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itstopplingdomino · 9 months ago

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confident | weasley twins x reader

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

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

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

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

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

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

Fred shrugs, again, then leaves to find you.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"If you say so, Peanuts."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You think again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You don't need consolation. You need explanation.

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

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

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

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

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

The icing on the cake. He knew.

He knew and he still did that.

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

"You are the absolute worst."

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He made a fool out of you.

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

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

George must've taken it.

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

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

And there you are.

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

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

But never with George. Never to George.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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thestorycomesalive · 1 year ago

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And I Would Do it Again

George Weasley x Reader

Summary: When you stick up for George in front of your whole Defense Against the Dark Arts class, Professor Umbridge has a certain consequence in mind for you.

Angst and Fluff, Hurt/Comfort.

TW: Mentions of Blood

****

“Eh hem, Mr. Weasley,” hummed a trilling voice from behind the tall red head next to you.

“Professor?” George raised an eyebrow to the pink clad woman behind him, wondering what in the world the small, angry lady could possibly want. Afterall, he hadn’t done anything wrong. And he knew better than to test her at this point. Or at least he knew his limits. Ron had told him of the tragic events that took place in Harry’s detention. Ever since then, he and his twin brother had gotten quieter and cleverer about pulling their tricks around school. Of course, they hadn’t stopped altogether. George wouldn’t be George without his pranks. But George knew he couldn’t get detention. Not out of a kindness for himself, but rather for your sake. He knew you’d worry too much.

But this time, he hadn’t done anything to provoke Professor Umbridge. He racked his brain for a moment, but he couldn’t think of one thing that would call her attention to him.

“You have received a generous amount of our class time today to complete your writing assignment, and while even Ms. L/N next to you has come up with a few paragraphs, you seem to have nearly nothing on your page. Care to explain what you’ve been up to all of this time?” The woman teetered to the front of your table, peering down at George.

He gave her a look of disbelief. “Well, it is not for lack of trying. I just have a hard time learning on paper. And you don’t let us use our wands,” he pointed out.

She giggled a single, ugly giggle. “Mr. Weasley… I can’t say I’m surprised. Afterall, I have come to expect less than from you. You shouldn’t need your wand to learn. Perhaps it is time for you to accept the fact that your own stupidity is to blame for your shortcomings. I really do my very best, but some students are just purely unteachable.” She hummed the last part to herself, shaking her head.

Your eyes shot up to her instantly. You had been watching her for some time, but in this instance, your eyes had been on the boy next to you, offering looks of kindness and sympathy without words. But now you were angry. Practically fuming. “Excuse me,” you muttered sharply, grabbing her attention with a whip of her head. “That is not, in any way, fair or warranted. George is one of the smartest people I know.” Your eyes were shooting darts at her as a piercing, condescending smile crept up to her ears.

“Ms. L/N. Talking out of turn will not be tolerated in my classroom. Especially not when it is used to talk back to your superiors,” she huffed.

You felt the smallest sensation of George’s pinky finger entwining with yours, as he tried to simmer down some of the anger, he knew was bubbling within you. You sighed and decided to leave the subject, having said your piece.

“You shall not question my knowledge and wisdom in any sense. If I say he is stupid, he is stupid, and if I say you are a flying Niffler, well then, you must be a flying Niffler. Do you understand, young lady?” she grinned, clearly having been satisfied with what she thought was winning the argument. You feel the heat and anger rising even higher than before at the mention of the sweet boy next to you. And then you finally realized what it is she was asking of you. She was asking you to agree with her cruel assumption about your George in front of the whole class. She cocks an eyebrow in the air with a wild smirk on her face. The rage pools over as you finally let it escape your mouth.

“No. I do not. I do not understand how you can call someone so bright and creative stupid, simply because you lack the skills and empathy to teach them what you would like them to know. Or because their knowledge simply extends beyond concepts that you can understand. You might not agree with me, Professor, but not everyone is like you. Not everyone wants to sit in a dark room and just pretend to learn for the rest of their lives. You want to give me detention, Professor? Fine. But I will not stand by while you abuse really great wizards, let alone, the ones that I love.” You cock your eyebrows back at her, knowing she has you right where she wants you. You don’t have a care in the world as the steam almost rises from your ears. It is now you notice that George’s hand had moved from your pinky to your wrist, gently trying to stop you from making the decision you had just made, his eyes pleading with yours with a gentle sadness and slight shock. However, for the briefest moment, you thought you could make out the tiniest glimpse of pride pass his eyes at the same time.

“Detention, Ms. L/N. I will not have anyone tell me how to teach in my classroom or question my abilities and judgement as a witch. Let alone someone so new to magic, as yourself.” She smiled smugly as she returned to the front of the classroom continuing her lesson immediately, not giving George or you a chance to respond to her. It was this act that left George hunting her down with a glare that could kill for the rest of the class, hand still in yours.

****

George spent every moment away from you that day, skipping his classes, trying in every way to get himself detention with Umbridge as well. However, every attempt ended with a quiet humph and scolding from her filled with cruel and nasty words. It was clear that even though she dreadfully wanted to, she was not going to give in and give George the detention he so desperately desired. She knew his punishment would be far more effective if she let you suffer and put him in a position where he would not be able to do anything about it whatsoever. It was the only time that he had the freedom to do nearly anything he wanted at Hogwarts, to break almost any rule he wanted to break, and get away with it. The painful irony is, he hated every second of it.

*****

Your detention arrived quickly that night when the corridors of the castles quieted. You had spent all day since your class with Umbridge quiet by George’s side. On the moments that you would be separated, you would go find a place in the Gryffindor Common Room to sit and wait for him to return from his classes or what you thought must be prank trials with Fred. But you weren’t worried about your detention like most people probably assumed you had been. Hell, you probably should’ve been. No. You were furious. Furious at Umbridge for targeting George, furious at her for backing you into a corner until you couldn’t take it anymore, furious at her for hurting Harry, furious at her for getting away with all of the terrible things she has done… furious.

When darkness befell the Common Room, only George, Fred, Lee, and you remained. You hadn’t told Harry or anyone else about your detention. You didn’t want him to worry. However, Fred and Lee, of course, had known of your soon-to-be punishment, considering they had been in the class when you received it. When you left the classroom, George pulled you into his side protectively and Lee had given you proud pat on the shoulder. With an exaggerated wink, Fred had run up and exclaimed, “Blimey, that was amazing, L/N! Nice craftsmanship, excellent execution.” Fred had tried to wipe some of the anger from your face throughout the day with a few, “don’t mess with that one, she’s fiery” and “Oi, Lee, careful. Catch yourself even looking at ol’ Georgie too long, and you might have to answer to that one,” with a point in your direction. These usually earned a genuine, soft smile from you as you chuckled to yourself. Freddie was the one person in the world who could make any person laugh no matter the circumstances. George would blush, and if he saw you laughing, he would also laugh to himself at the mention of the last joke from Fred. Part of you wondered if he may have enjoyed feeling your protectiveness over him. And you didn’t mind. You liked that he liked it. Even now.

But as the four of you sat late in the quiet Common Room, you felt the jokes wash away as George twiddled with his fingers, your head on his chest. You could tell he was feeling worried and helpless as you waited for your time to leave for detention. When that time came, you gave them a gentle smile and said, “Alright, I’m off. I’ll see you guys in the morning. Don’t go worrying about me too much.” You gave Fred and Lee a wink and kissed the top of George’s head.

As if on instinct, George grabbed your hand, pleading with his face, as if he were trying to keep you from going. But he knew that if you did not show up tonight, it would only earn you an even bigger punishment with the nasty, pink-shoed woman later. You took his hand and held it to your cheek as you gave him a little smile and whispered, “I love you. Goodnight.” And off you went, George watching your back as you left.

*****

As you creaked through the half open door of Umbridge’s office, you heard her squeal in delight. She toned out, “Do come in, Ms. L/N.”

You walked in without a word, eyes piercing through the small woman as she continued. “I do hope tonight will serve you nicely. You will be writing lines for me, dear.” You nodded your head, eyes still shooting at the Professor. This is what you had expected to hear from her. “Take a seat. There is a quill and parchment already for you at the desk there.”

You took a seat at the desk she pointed to as she tutted. “Hmm… What lesson is to be learned tonight, do you think?” You, of course, didn’t answer. “There are many lessons I believe you could benefit from learning, Ms. L/N, but I have chosen to be generous to you, for reasons unbeknownst to me. I believe the lines, ‘I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors’, will do just fine.”

Your mouth dropped. You were expecting to write lines, and you knew the pain that would come with that, but you had not expected the number of words she would give you to write to be so extensive. You only prayed that the number of lines she would have you complete would be less, to even out your sentence to compare to the stories you had heard from others, including Harry. You dared to ask. “How many- “

“One hundred,” she interrupted without hesitation.

You nodded, eyes still a bit wide from shock. You assumed that you had really struck a nerve with your defiance towards Umbridge. Afterall, why else would your sentence be nearly double that of any other student you have heard from so far? You figured that you also were being used as punishment towards those you loved as well. Those who have also unmeaningly struck a nerve of Umbridge’s too: Harry and George. But you wouldn’t be used as bait. No, you quite refused to be used as such.

As you dared to hover the dry quill over the paper, you prepared yourself for the pain that would inevitably begin once you touched them down to meet. And when it did, the pain was one hundred times more unbearable than you had even begun to imagine, just like the number of lines you were to complete.

By the time you had arrived halfway through your assignment, blood was dripping down your fingertips, drenching your parchment along with the tears crawling down your face. Finally, soft whimpers that you had tried to hold back for so long, began to escape.

The clock ticking echoed in your ears, taunting your brain with the idea of freedom. After what felt like an eternity, you had finished the lines, and you were a both dry and wet bloodied mess. You sat up from your seat and handed the now quiet professor your scarlet stained parchment full of scratches reading, “I will learn my place and be respectful to my superiors”, front and back.

“May I leave now?” you uttered.

She simply nodded with a conniving grin plastered on her face as she watched you walk out the door.

*****

You held your breath until you arrived back past the portrait into the Gryffindor Common Room, not wanting that evil woman to hear you cry. When you stepped into the room, you pressed your back to the cold wall next to you and grabbed your wrist, blood flow never-ending, and finally let the tears and sobs escape you, as your back fell down the wall. You were so blinded by the pain that you didn’t even notice there was someone in the room with you. They ran up from the couch, over to your place by the wall, and sat right next to you, pulling you into their lap. From the moment you discovered the figure, your brain and your heart knew it would be your George. Part of you had a feeling he wouldn’t sleep until you were back, and you didn’t want him to see you like this. You fought your brain which told you that you were allowing yourself to be the live weapon that Umbridge wanted you to be. You just hadn’t expected the pain to be so much. You hadn’t expected that you would collapse right in front of George. You so desperately wanted to be strong. To stay strong for him. For yourself. But, oh merlin, did it hurt.

His big arms wrapped around your shoulders and brought his hand to pull your bloodied one into his line of sight. His breathing hitched and he felt his blood run to his cheeks and his ears as his other hand clenched into a fist. He was seeing red at the extra bloodied hand you fostered, much worse than he had ever seen, even on Harry. But the rage he felt was nothing compared to the crunch of his heart splitting in two as your cries of pain reached his ears. He didn’t know what to do, he felt so helpless, just as he had all day, but a million times worse.

“Darling, I know. I’m so sorry. I’m- I’m so sorry. Please. Please, I have to wrap this. You have to let me wrap this,” he struggled, pleading with you.

Your head heard his words, and it told you to move, to stop crying, to say something. But your skin was on fire, and the roar of the flames outspoke the language of your brain trying to reason with your body. You were able to lean your head into his shoulder, as you tried to compose yourself as best as you could, but the best you could do was quiet your sobs ever so slightly, as any and all words fell silent in the back of your throat. Your tears soaked through his shirt and coated his upper arm that still held you. He began to take his arms and pull himself up, untangling himself from you. He moved to sit on his knees in front of you, eyes searching for yours as he tilted your chin up to look at him.

“My love. Please. I need to wrap your hand. Can I bring you to the couch?” he asked, peering through your eyes for an answer.

You slightly nodded your head, barely noticeable. But George, he saw it. He always saw it. He could read you better than anyone in the world. The moment he saw your head move, he scooped his arm under your bent legs and placed his other one across your back and under your arms. You turned your head into his shoulder as he gently move to place you on the couch, your back pressed to the arm of the chair. You pulled your knees up on the couch, moving your heels to touch your bottom. Splayed out across the table in front of you were bandages and a wrap for your hand. As the tears began finding themselves more and more scarce at the hope of relief, the smaller of the words at the back of your throat began to find their way out.

“Georgie?” you asked, coming out in a high-pitched whimper.

His deep, worrying eyes looked to you, hands finding your cheeks. He followed your eyes to the table and the equipment laying on it. An embarrassed blush came to his cheeks as his brows furrowed. Supplies. It was pathetic, he thought. He should’ve been the one being punished. But instead, it was you and there was absolutely nothing he could do except for find some simple supplies. Unable to even think about sleeping, he had snuck his way over to Madame Pomfrey in the medical wing as soon as you had exited the Common Room. He asked her for some supplies and after more than a lot of convincing that everything was okay and that he wasn’t up to anything that would get her in trouble, she suspiciously obliged. He knew you would refuse to see her anyways, not wanting to take up her time. And deep down, he too knew that there was not much she would be able to do for you, no matter how much he begged. Afterall, this was a punishment enacted by Umbridge herself, and no matter how much she wanted to, Pomfrey could not disregard the rules set in place by the self-proclaimed headmaster and inquisitor.

He turns back to you quickly trying to cover the look of shame and guilt on his face.

“I’m sorry… I’m so sorry,” his voice breaks, tears of his own forming.

You could see him fighting with his own mind over something that you were sure would split your heart right down the middle.

“George?” you squeaked out once more.

“I’m so sorry…It’s my fault. I was behind in class. It should’ve been me. Not you. I should’ve protected you, I-,” he finally lets it all come rushing out.

You cut him off by placing your good hand on his cheek, giving him a difficult and very broken smile. Your voice comes out raspy from the sobs you had forced down but determined now, as soon as you hear the pain in George's own voice. “No. This decision was mine, George. All mine…” you give the faintest of laughs, almost in disbelief. “And yet, I can’t find the mind to regret it… I would do it again… and again.”

He leaned into your touch, eyes wincing as you revealed to him that you would take this punishment and this pain for him once again.

“Look at me?” you whispered.

He brought his eyes up to meet yours. Your voice was a little bit clearer now, although wavering ever so slightly.

“My decision. Please do not take that away from me, Georgie. It was my decision to make, and I am so glad that I did. You are so smart. You know that, right?” You looked up at him from under your eyelashes through the now silent and mild tears that streamed down your face.

He shook his head. He couldn’t bring himself to even begin to describe himself as smart. If that were true, he thought, he would’ve found a way to be there with you. If that were true, you wouldn’t have been there at all. He couldn’t understand, how through all of the terror and pain, you were the one to comfort him. He simply began to unwrap the bandages from their place on the table and started to wrap them tightly around your hand to stop the blood from dripping any longer, a lot of it starting to dry already. When he was finished, you took your good hand and placed it on his cheek once again. You pulled him into a sweet, soft, salty kiss.

“Smart. Clever. Kind. Brave. Gentle,” you muttered these words in his ear as you rested your head on his shoulder, and he once again pulled you into his lap, this time, towards him.

“The strongest girl I know, so beautiful, so loving…,” he muttered back, caressing your hair, trailing off into magical, sweet nothings that mean quite everything to both of you.

“I love you, Georgie,” you whisper.

“I love you, darling,” he says.

“Will you stay with me tonight?” you ask the beautiful, ginger boy that you love so dearly.

“I will always stay with you, my love,” he says as he begins to lift your body from the couch to carry to your dorm. There the two of you find comfort in each other’s embrace, finally drifting off into a deep sleep.

#george weasly x reader #george weasley #harry potter #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst #angst with a happy ending

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miryum · 24 days ago

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Trust (Mattheo Riddle x Reader) Southern Regency AU

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Oh, what was her life coming to?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Father keeps me well read.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s a love story,” Y/n defended.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You can trust me.”

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

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

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

“I always have.”

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cherry-pop-elf · 6 months ago

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SFW Alphabet: George Weasley

To the Anon that requested this, I hope you see this and know that this was the best ask ever. I love you so much, oh my god thank you! 🫂

A = Affection (How affectionate are they? How do they show affection?)

George is such a man of actions. He loves to display his affection proudly. Along with in the form of servitude or gift giving. He’s very loud and proud with it all. He will get you whatever you need, run whatever errand you have, and return to snuggle his face into your lap. Just holding you close. The moment WWW is opened, it gets amplified by a million. He’s a total cuddle bug, and he will make it your problem. Platonic, or romantic. It’s gonna be everyone’s problem that he is loud about it. Guess you can say he’s a little in everything, because of it. Still, his loudest is servitude and gift giving.

B = Best friend (What would they be like as a best friend? How would the friendship start?)

He is the most loyal, and fun, best friend to ever have. He is going to give you piggy back rides, as you both run away from whatever trouble you both left behind. He’s going to always have his shoulder ready for when you need to cry. He’s a very emotionally in tuned person when it comes to well, ya know, Emotions! So he is the man you can trust with your secrets, and just need to vent. Very much a living teddy bear. There for when you need to cry, scream, and need someone to hold. Along with pulling a Lupin, and making sure you have sweets for when you need to stuff your face silly over something dumb that happened.

C = Cuddles (Do they like to cuddle? How would they cuddle?)

Doesn’t matter if you are romantic, platonic, familia, you will be cuddled by this man. You will be held. He loves cuddles and acts of physical attention. Depending on your size, he will either rest his head in your lap or lay on you. He just wants to be held. Hold this man! Men deserve to be little spoons. Let him be cuddled and held tightly, with his hair played with. Of course, the gesture is returned. He will take care of you all the same. Just holding, and being held, soothes his woes.

D = Domestic (Do they want to settle down? How are they at cooking and cleaning?)

Being raised by a family of nine, and also starting his own empire before he was eighteen, he is extremely great with domestic life. Despite what everyone says. Since he has a job he loves, and very much pays the bills, he is so excited to have kids. To have a family so badly, and give them the life he always dreamed of. He’s also the baker of the family, so cooking is no issue. Cleaning? Uh…..Hey, he can cook and will change the diapers no issue. He will be there for the child just as much as you would. What? No ones perfect. He handles the cooking, you handle the cleaning. Being a partner is sharing responsibility’s anyway.

E = Ending (If they had to break up with their partner, how would they do it?)

God, it’s gonna probably messy. He’s the more emotional one of the two, so it’s probably going to end in tears. That is, if the relationship was good and healthy. I can easily see him needing to do something like this, the day before he and Fred had to break out of Hogwarts. Not wanting to put them in any risk of their own actions. Would sit you down, explain what’s going on, and how he wants to focus his full heart and soul into the career. He would cry, but he would have Fred with him for support. If the relationship was shit? Expect a Jack In The Box to blow up in your face with a pie that says ‘It’s Over’ before being smacked in your face. Would even make the pie in your least favorite flavor, to be extra petty.

F = Fiance(e) (How do they feel about commitment? How quick would they want to get married?)

He took his career at WWW very seriously, so he wouldn’t be as quick to marriage as people would think. He would have 100% have a promise ring, Las Vegas wedding if you joined him in the Umbridge incident. But to actually settle down with kids and such is well after the war. He takes his job seriously. Like, the evidence is clear with how successful it is. He is a committed man, but he is also a man that is passionate about his career. So as long as you are very supportive of it as well, he’s like you as glue on a horse.

G = Gentle (How gentle are they, both physically and emotionally?)

It really depends on how far the relationship is. Platonic or romantic. At first he’s really intense and loud. But once you two settle into each other, he’s very gentle honestly. He’s the ‘softer twin’ after all. Still, he can be intense, but his emotions are soft. He’s very honest with how he feels, and if he’s uncomfortable it’s super easy to read on his face and body language. He’s just a very open book when it comes to emotions. Expected to have brutal hugs, and to be tossed like a rag doll though. He’s still got those jock arms, and hard muscles from working at WWW.

H = Hugs (Do they like hugs? How often do they do it? What are their hugs like?)

Obsessed with hugs. He would rest his head on yours, as you both are in class. He will hug you as a form of greeting. There have been times he’s hugged as a first impression. Confused the old farts when doing business deals, that’s for sure. He loves them so damn much. He loves to hug and be hugged. He’s not a teddy bear for nothing. Hug and hug and more hugs. He loves them, and will find an excuse to give them if he can. It’s even rubbed off on people he knows, and now they aren’t to shy in physical affection because of it.

I = I love you (How fast do they say the L-word?)

He’s a very lovey dovey guy in general, so the first time he says it it’ll not really sound like the L-word. Just the playful little kinds. Like ‘I love your dumb ass-‘ types. He’s just as opposite of toxic masculinity as it gets. So when he finally does say the L word, it’s hard to tell if it’s playful or not. He’s just very emotional like that. Even after the war, and the trauma of it all. His emotional strength is to be admired, really.

J = Jealousy (How jealous do they get? What do they do when they’re jealous?)

Like I said. Fred is the more stern while George is more soft of the two. So his reaction to jealously is more in the terms of anxiety, and sadness. He would get stressed, and worried. Wondering if he’s good enough, if he’s even wasting your time with him.

After the war though? Uh….He might get a little aggressive. Not at you, but whoever it is he feels is threatening his relationship. It’s hard, when you lose your twin. So he gets overly protective and territorial. Afraid he will lose more people. Before the war he’s scared, after the war he’s terrified.

K = Kisses (What are their kisses like? Where do they like to kiss you? Where do they like to be kissed?)

Cheeks and noses. He loves cute little affection like that. To pepper your face in kisses, and nuzzle his nose with yours. He wants to kiss your face until you giggle. He loves kisses like that in return.

After the war, he loves being kissed on his scar. Fleur would do that with Bill. Kiss his scars, and show him that he is still handsome. That his scars are just as pretty as him. It’s soothing to him. That he isn’t seen as gross or disgusting for his facial features. So, give him plenty of kisses on his missing ear.

L = Little ones (How are they around children?)

The BEST! Not only because he’s an older sibling, but because he runs a joke shop. He knows what kids like. He and Fred also would comfort kids during Umbridges time. So if a kid is experiencing trauma, he’s quick to hold them and let them know they have a safe adult to confide in. He’s the man that ends up being a person kids run to when they are running away from home, more often than he wants to admit. It’s not going to be long before he’s a foster parent, that’s for sure. He might have, even. Given a lot of orphans were made from the war…..

M = Morning (How are mornings spent with them?)

He’s a morning bird. He will be awake early, and working on coffee and breakfast. Enjoying his cup of overly sweet Joe, and a sunrise. Even in school, he was always the first one up. He loves the calm of it. There’s something so nice about the stillness of a morning, and being able to mold it to be whatever you want it to be. Breakfast he already made, and he has a list of things he has planned for the morning. Already showered, and dressed. A total morning bird.

N = Night (How are nights spent with them?)

Fred is the night owl, not George. Especially since he would be busy with work. And it’s worse when Fred had died. Wanting to work as long as he could, to not face the loneliness of being without him. Even with a partner, it hurts. Closing shop alone. There will be times he worked himself to pure exhaustion, and passes out. Just so he didn’t have to close up shop alone. It’s not healthy, but neither is a magical twin being alive without his other half. It’s a cycle. You’ll help him break it eventually. So many nights are often times you stealing him out of his blacked out state in the shop.

Before the war, though, it was certainly much better. He would come home, tired, but contented. Have those aches and pains of a hard days work. Happily help make dinner, tell you about his day, and have a nice cuddle session together. So you two can have some together time, and be at peace. The war sure likes to take peace away from people.

O = Open (When would they start revealing things about themselves? Do they say everything all at once or wait a while to reveal things slowly?)

Before the war, he’s very open about himself. You won’t get his darkest secrets, like how he feels like people like Fred more than him, on the first encounter. But he has a good judge of character, so you’ll learn that sooner than later.

After the war……Oh boy. He’s learned to be very good at hiding what he is actually feeling. It’s going to take ages for you to break through his laughing mask. He’s just scared of losing someone close to him again. It hurts. He’s scared. You’ll have to really dig, but the dig is worth it. Because when he finally opens up, it’s a water fall. A much needed waterfall, that patches holes. Paves way to healing. It’s worth the dig.

P = Patience (How easily angered are they?)

Depends on the person, actually. If you are like a little kid, his patience is endless. If you are an adult? It’s shorter, but he’s able to keep himself pretty calm. It’s a Gordon Ramsey thing. Kids don’t know better, adults do. Also, ya know, he’s beaten up Draco more than once.

The same still apply’s after the war. Shorter for adults, endless for kids. Though, he’s more quicker to violence after the war. Because those same adults are now making comments about Fred, his appearance, and things that you just don’t say to someone with PTSD man. Come on.

Q = Quizzes (How much would they remember about you? Do they remember every little detail you mention in passing, or do they kind of forget everything?)

You would think he was a stalker, with how much he knows. In reality, the twins are charismatic for a reason. They read the room, and pick up small details. That’s how they seem so charming. They know what to say to meet the vibe. So, he’s just good at picking up little things. He loves knowing what makes his friends, and partners, happy. Also, he’s a prankster. He NEEDS to know these tiny details. Makes giving you surprises the more fun. You made one comment about how pretty green is? Now you suddenly have a green sweater for Christmas because he told Molly you like green. You will not escape his love.

R = Remember (What is their favorite moment in your relationship?)

If this is a case that you joined them in the Umbridge escape, that obviously. If not? It’s extremely domestic. It’s a case where you two fell asleep together. Having spent the night in a hidden little spot in the castle, having been working on plans for inventions and pranks. Just the two of you cuddled, and surrounded with exciting things. Fred and Angelina in a similar fashion. Almost a mirror of you and him. Just one big cuddle pile, with the most important people of his life. You, his twin, and their childhood friend. It was so perfect, he was able to forget the worries of Umbridge and the war. It was heaven, for just a moment.

S = Security (How protective are they? How would they protect you? How would they like to be protected?)

It gets worse after the war, but over all he’s always been support protective. If anything, you getting caught in the Pink Toad’s crossfire is what caused him and Fred to break out of school. If it wasn’t for the fact she had so much power, it would be safe to assume he would have caused more violence than what was already done. He isn’t afraid to get blood on his hands. Many wizards aren’t, as that is the society. Wizards are a very violent society after all. You say the word, and the person that has been bothering you either gets pranked into a heart attack….or worse.

T = Try (How much effort would they put into dates, anniversaries, gifts, everyday tasks?)

It’s his favorite pass time, really. He loves planning. There is so much excitement in it. Also doing small things is just natural for him. To kiss your head, before leaving to work. To remember your favorite flavor of candy, and give you said flavor from the left overs from candy he got in Hogsmeade. He loves doing stuff like that, and it gets worse after WWW. He’s able to pamper you in ways no one could imagine. It’s not a surprise that some of the products are a reaction to gifts and plans he made for you. So many dates, so many fun things. Every moment is special. From the wildest of Quidditch matches, to domestic picnics at Fred’s grave.

U = Ugly (What would be some bad habits of theirs?)

I wouldn’t say having PTSD is an ugly habit, but that is something that will need to be dealt with and handled. It’s hard, but hopefully you were very aware of that when dating him. Suppose more so what actual bad habits he has is saying we/us well after Fred’s death. As if you’ll ever correct him. A more proper bad habit is he has a hard time cleaning, and remembering to eat. Ya know, typical ADHD habits. Suppose remembering self care is a bad habit. Even before the war. He is just a giver. It’s hard to treat yourself, so it leads to some issues. Like dietary issues, his hair getting messy. A really really bad habit he has is always focusing on making others happy, and forgetting himself. Everyone deserves happiness, not him. It’s a trauma that was developed by his life. So it’s hard for him to take a minute to allow himself joy. Lots of bottled up emotions, despite being so open. Complexity of human nature.

V = Vanity (How concerned are they with their looks?)

He didn’t really start a worry, until after the war. Now that he was sporting a missing ear, multiple scars, and just a mess of trauma. He went as far as to grow out his hair to try and hide the scars. It’s hard, because since the wound is a magical scar it caused his hair to be unable to grow on that spot. So his hair style had to be very long, which just brought more notice to his scar. It’s often made him cry. Kids asking about it don’t bother him too much, but adults just don’t know when to shut up. He’s cried so many times from it. How he is no longer identical to Fred. That he can’t even see his own brother in his reflection anymore. Many a mirror has been broken, to say the least…..

W = Whole (Would they feel incomplete without you?)

Before the war, he would have a better chance of moving on and living life as normal. After? Oh after it’s scary. It’s very scary. He’s lost Fred, don’t make him keep losing people. It’s going to be a very dark day for WWW if he ever lost you.

X = Xtra (A random headcanon for them.)

Just one?! Oh come on. Ok ok hm. Hehe get angsted. He started to wear purple far more often when Fred died, so in a way Fred is still involved and part of life. Because Fred’s favorite color is purple, while George’s favorite color is orange. Hence their purple and orange color schemes. Green was their mutual shared color they liked. So purple indirectly because almost more loved than orange, because purple reminded him of Fred. So by proxy grape, and such, was a thing that has often comforted him in hard times. If he’s drinking or eating grape flavored things, it’s a sign that he’s sad and needs support. So, in his own little way, Fred is. By giving him comfort in a flavor and color.

Y = Yuck (What are some things they wouldn’t like, either in general or in a partner?)

You don’t like kids? He doesn’t like you. You don’t want kids when older? Get out of his face. This doesn’t mean if you are unable to have kids. This means if you aren’t willing to adopt or foster even. If you won’t even accept fostering then you aren’t dating him. Kids are his life. Also, duh, if you can’t take a joke or enjoy a good prank. If you basically don’t have the headspace to be a playful parent, you aren’t even getting the time of day from him. Don’t get him started on the weirdos that make if their whole personality that they don’t have kids. Red flag for him.

Z = Zzz (What is a sleep habits of theirs?)

Before the war, he was a heavy ass sleeper. He would have you tangled in his limbs, as he snores into your hair. He’s knocked out, and you are now trapped with his ginger covered furnace he calls a body. Sure makes winters snuggly. He can sleep through a damn construction sight, while being on a jack hammer. Those twins love loud noises. They don’t get scared by them easily.

After the war is another story. He can’t sleep on his left side, because that makes him go fully deaf after all. He also can’t have the room quiet. The quite scares him. So there will be some kind of background noise. Such as the window open, to have the busy streets of London/Diagon alley to make some sound. Or a record player. He’s also more sensitive to waking up, and has night terrors. He gets scared easily in his sleep. It’s also harder to sleep, if you aren’t there with him. He just hates being alone. He always has Fred, and they had that magical bond. So that even if they were miles apart, they could still feel each other. He doesn’t have that anymore. Isolation is horrific for him. Hence why Bill moved back to working in Gringotts, and into the flats attached to WWW. So he didn’t have to face that fear. Fleur’s thoughts on it? She’s out right slept in the same room as George, one his worse nights, because a Veela knows what it’s like to have magic that isn’t the same as your typical wizard. She knows, and does what she can to help. A true Weasley.

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naurimastaur · 1 year ago

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Lovesick

TW: Aesthetic photo

Pairing: Fred Weasley x fem!reader

Summary: Fred comforts you while you’re sick, well at least he tries to.

Me? Writing fluff??? (I had a head cold & was delirious writing half of this)

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The morning birds hovering over diagon alley chirped in a harmonious melody of optimism and grace. Their song unfortunately becoming intwined in the sound of Y/N’s unwarranted retching.

“Good morning, darling,” Fred stretched, briefly regarding his partner’s state.

Her extremely curved spine and bent neck created a naturally alluring sight (to the blind).

Fred cringed at the mess she’d amassed on the floorboards below, patting her back rather discouragingly before prioritising his own comfort.

“Are you not going to work?” Y/n prodded, grabbing her wand and whispering a quick ‘scourgify’.

“No, I’m perfectly content watching you create your own moat around our bed,” he retorted, nestling against the outline of his dense head on his pillow.

“And I suppose, you’re incapable of looking after yourself,” he quickly added, after feeling her burning forehead, faking a ‘sizzle’ sound as he pressed his fingertips onto the mattress below.

“What if you get sick?” She muttered in return, eyes half closed. The tempting comfort of sleep soothing her ill state.

“What if you get sick?” He mocked, holding his nose shut in an impression of her ill voice. Being a lab rat to his own products, he had unintentionally built a form of immunity to illness.

Her weary eyes regarded him with faint amusement.

“Besides, cant get sick with all this muscle,” he bragged, flexing his arms in an embarrassing display of a masculine ego.

“Merlin, you’re worse than my headache,” she groaned, swatting his face away from hers.

“Hypochondriac,” he replied, brushing stray strands of hair away from her face.

“Ginger,” she said simply, burrowing her head into the crook of his neck.

He held her feverish body close to his, tucking her worries into the safety of his embrace. Admirably, he swallowed his horror each time her red, irritated nose scrunched with a sniffle. Usually it was partnered with a leaking fluid, grazing his woollen jumper.

Sometime later Fred awoke with a sneeze, eyes swollen and inflamed.

“Fuck,” he said.

“Indeed.”

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#fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #george weasley x reader #weasley twins #fred weasley imagine #george weasley #harry potter #fred weasley x fem!reader #fem!reader #hp fluff #comfort #sick comfort #autumn #james phelps #crush imagines #oneshot

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unofficial-author · 7 months ago

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Once again pissed off bc my man is still fictional

#james potter #remus lupin #marauders #sirius black #din djarin #the mandalorian #Fred Weasley #george weasley #Harry Potter #hogwarts #Star Wars #comfort character #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #top gun #loki laufeyson #marvel memes #mcu

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georgie-weasley · 2 years ago

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Birthdays G.W. x GN!Reader

Warnings: mentions of death, mentions of blood, George losing his ear, it's super sad

Word Count: 3.2k

Pairing: George Weasley x GN!Reader

Summary: After Fred's death, George never wanted to celebrate his birthday. This year he's turning 25 and despite his request, you want to do something special so you track down all the pictures you took from your Hogwarts years

A/N: I know it's been a little bit since I wrote anything and I just want to say I really appreciate all the love and support from everyone

Masterlist Taglist

Birthdays were supposed to be a fun and special day. They were supposed to be a day all about you and spending the day how you wanted. Usually it was spent with friends and family who loved you as they celebrated you getting older. There was typically cake and presents and singing that stupid song. Ever since the Battle of Hogwarts, birthdays have taken a sadder turn for George Weasley.

April 1st used to be the best day of the year in George’s eyes. Not only was it a day dedicated to jokes and pranks, but it was also the day he and his best friend got to celebrate another year of growing up but never maturing. In their younger years, they spent their birthday doing what they loved, causing mischief. One year they spent the whole day squawking like a bird at every hour; it was one of the more harmless years. On their first birthday after owning the joke shop, everything was a disaster. Well, it was for any poor soul that entered the shop with their guard down. Patrons left with bubblegum pink hair, duck bills for noses, temporarily in love with obscure objects, and even some believed they were invisible when they were in fact very visible.

George’s first birthday after Fred died was one of the worst days of his life, second to only the day he lost his brother. The family walked on eggshells and made the mistake of trying to celebrate. When his mother brought out the cake after dinner, he stormed out of the room before she could even set the homemade dessert on the table. You followed him all the way up to the roof, the place he always went to be alone or away from everyone but you. He sat there crying and you held him, rubbing his back but saying nothing; there was nothing you could say to ease his pain.

“I never want to celebrate my birthday ever again Y/N. I don’t want any cakes or presents or stupid songs. I don’t want anyone to even mention it.” He choked out as he sobbed into his hands.

“Your mom was just trying to do something nice. I don’t think she knew it would hurt this much.”

“I know but I don’t want anything. Promise me the end of the birthdays starts here.”

You didn’t want to promise but you could see how much he needed this. “I promise.”

You had been dating George since your Hogwarts years and you saw the pain everyone went through in the past year. You also saw how differently everyone reacted to the grief. Molly was liable to burst into tears every few minutes while Arthur threw himself into his tinkering with muggle items. Bill and Charlie spent a lot more time at home, doing things for their parents just to try and give them a break. Ron started helping George at the joke shop and he threw himself into the work there; he was a lot like his father much to his horror. Ginny spent a lot of time with George. She wasn’t supposed to have favorite brothers but Fred and George easily were her favorites. As for Percy, he still blamed himself for the death of his brother and spent most of his time hating himself. George didn’t know what to do. Everything he ever did, Fred was right there with him and he didn’t know how to function without his other half.

George no longer lived above the joke shop and instead he lived in a small apartment with you. The mirrors were covered with paper and all reflective surfaces were hidden as best as you could. He couldn’t stand to see himself because all he could see was Fred.

---

Since then, George had gotten his way and he hadn’t had a birthday celebration for the past few years. The only time it was even mentioned was when someone asked how old he was. Other than that, no one spoke about April 1st. This year George was turning 25 and after discussing with Molly many times, you decided not to ignore his birthday this time.

You were terrified that he would be upset that you went against his wishes but 25 was quite a big deal. He was officially going to be in his mid 20s and that deserved a celebration. George deserved a day where the people that loved him showed him how much he meant to them. Ginny, who had also been in on your plans, suggested for this first year of breaking the no birthday promise it was just you who celebrated. If the whole family suddenly ignored George’s wishes, he would probably feel betrayed. Not to mention out of everyone, he was more likely to be alright with his partner doing something special for him.

You spent all of February trying to think of something small enough to make sure he wouldn’t be upset but something big and special enough to warrant breaking this promise. Unlike the first few birthdays you celebrated with him as a couple, candy wouldn’t cut it this time. Soon February passed and before you knew it, it was the middle of March and you only had a couple weeks to go. You had to think of something fast

The answer came to you late at night one day in March. While George had been working late at the shop, you spent a lot of time stress cleaning the apartment and going through boxes. Wrapped up in old sweaters that didn’t fit anymore was your camera. It had been a gift to your parents your first year of Hogwarts and while you were no professional photographer, you spent all of your years in school taking pictures.

Ginny once mentioned to you a gift Hagrid had given Harry his first year. Hagrid spent months contacting anyone that knew James and Lily to try and get photos to make a photo album for Harry. Ginny said he still had it and has been adding to it; he added pictures of the people that meant a lot to him and especially pictures of things he wished his parents had been around to see. Almost all of the pictures you had taken since you were 11 included Fred and George. That was what you would give George.

When George came home that night, it was horrible trying not to tell him but you knew if he knew, he would tell you not to bother. Despite your efforts, he knew right away something was up. As he climbed into bed he took one look at your face and frowned. “What are you so worried about?” Curse him for being so observant.

“Nothing. I just hope you're not overworking yourself.” Before he could question you further, you kissed his cheek and rolled over, shutting off the light.

---

That morning as soon as he left for work, you began searching through more and more boxes of your things. Some pictures were hung up when you lived above the store but since moving, George didn’t want many pictures hung up at all. Tucked away in the closet was a small box with ‘pictures’ written on the side. “Bingo.”

As soon as you opened the box you had tears in your eyes. Right on top was a picture you had taken of the boys the day they bought the building. It was pretty worn down and needed quite a bit of work but Fred and George stood in front of the door, arms thrown around each other with wide smiles. As the picture moved, Fred and George turned to look over their shoulder at the building and gave each other a high five.

The next photo was much older and if you had to guess, Fred and George were only 12 or 13 in this picture. They were on the Quidditch Pitch, soaking wet and covered in mud but they couldn’t be happier. The boys had just tried out for the beater positions on the Gryffindor team and despite slipping and falling many times, they made the team. In the picture after only a second of smiling, Fred hip checked George and sent him flying into a mud puddle, landing right on his butt. Fred laughed until George kicked him on the back of the knee and made him fall face first into the mud next to him. The picture didn’t catch it but you remember after Fred got to his knees, the twins started wrestling and it took three people to separate them. Neither was mad at the other but more so they couldn’t stand to be outdone by their twin.

Many pictures were similar to those. One was taken of the twins while in detention with you. How you snuck the camera into the dungeons you couldn’t remember but the picture of Fred pretending to be Snape while George laughed and the real Snape rounded the corner was priceless. Another was taken when poor Ron had first started Hogwarts. You told the first year you simply wanted a photo of him and George to send home to his mother when in reality, Fred was behind him holding a fake spider. The picture captured the terror on Ron’s face as the toy came into his field of view while Fred and George rolled on the floor laughing.

Perhaps one of your favorites was taken during the Yule Ball. Katie Bell managed to take a picture of you and George slow dancing while Fred and Lee Jordan tried to do the worm in the background. Neither of them were very good and Fred wormed his way under Malfoy’s legs and sent the blonde crashing to the floor.

You had even a few pictures of the whole family. At Bill and Fleur’s wedding before the Death Eaters came, you gathered the whole Weasley clan and shoved everyone together to take a picture. Harry, disguised as a random Weasley cousin, and Hermione were included. The picture captured George coaxing you into frame with him as Remus took the camera from you. You squeezed in between Fred and George as your boys wrapped their arms around you.

There were many others, some far more normal than others but most of them George had never seen. After taking them, the pictures made their way into your trunk and never came out until after you had gone home. Besides, George always claimed he would never need to see them as he and Fred would continue to make more memories as they aged.

The last picture in the box was of them was the night George lost his ear. Fred had never been the serious type but seeing his twin brother lying on the couch drenched in his own blood changed something. All of you, but mostly Fred, realized no one was invincible. Fred pulled you aside and asked you to take a picture of them as soon as George was able to sit up and didn’t look too beat up. It was a moment you would never forget.

“I just need a picture of us Y/N. Seeing George there on the couch like that… I need something of us. This is a war and there’s no guarantee that both of us will make it. If that happens and he dies,” Fred rubbed his eyes with his sleeve and took a deep breath, “I need some reminder of him and I together in case.”

You grabbed his hand and gave it a small squeeze. “Of course Freddie.”

An hour later it was just the three of you awake and George was feeling well enough to sit up and drink some water. Fred sat next to him on the couch and glanced over at you. “George, I want to take a picture.”

“Now? I’m still a little crusty and my bandage needs to be changed.” George sat the glass of water on the ground and carefully turned his head to look at his twin. “Maybe we can wait until tomorrow so I can clean up a bit?”

Fred shook his head and beckoned you over. “No way. I don’t want to wait for this one. Please?”

With a confused glance at you, George shrugged and wrapped his arm around Fred’s shoulders. “Make sure you get my good side.” He said with a small laugh as he turned to show off his one remaining ear.

The boys smiled for the photo but Fred looked like he was holding back tears. You took a second one and held back your own tears as Fred pulled George in for a hug. “Love ya Georgie.”

“Love you too Freddie.”

Over the next couple of weeks you spent any time George was in the shop working on his present. You spent countless hours arranging the pictures into the photo album and adding little notes next to each one. You tried your best to remember the year it was taken so the book was in some sort of order.

Along with the photos, you went through your old notebooks and various other scraps of paper that you had saved. On so many of them the twins had written notes in the margins. On one note page, the boys were having a written conversation about their plans for a store. They had no reason to write it on your paper except for the fact that they felt like it. While in school, it used to bother you when they would mess around and write notes or doodle on your papers but now, you were beyond grateful for these dumb little messages.

You took the notebook page and added it to the book next to the picture of the boys in front of their shop. On the next you stuck in the page with the rather horrible self portrait Fred had drawn.

There were more than a few times you had to catch your falling tears so they wouldn’t ruin the pictures but finally after weeks, it was done.

---

On the morning of his birthday, George laid in bed well past the normal time he usually woke up. Ron had been the only one working at the store on George’s birthday for the past few years. At first George refused but as more and more people talked about April Fool’s Day, he relented and let Ron take over. When George finally emerged from the bedroom, he went straight to the couch and sat next to you. He didn’t say anything for a while until he finally turned to look at you. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I can make some eggs.” You gave him a quick peck on the lips before you went to the kitchen, preparing to make his breakfast.

On the coffee table you left the photo album which you had wrapped and added a small tag with his name on it. “Y/N? What is this?” He stared at the box as if he was expecting it to come alive and bite him.

“It’s just a little something for you. Why don’t you open it?”

George sighed and grabbed the box, moving into the kitchen with you. “I thought I said I didn’t want birthdays anymore. What happened to that promise?” At first you thought maybe he was hurt by your action but he just looked drained.

You set the uncracked eggs on the counter and put your hand over his. “I know you did but you’re 25 and I think you’ll like this one.” When he didn’t move to open the gift, you crossed your arms over your chest. “George, humor me just this time. If you hate it and still want nothing to do with birthdays then this will be the last mention of it, I swear.”

Satisfied with your terms, George carefully tore off the paper and opened the box. “You broke my promise to get me a book?” The cover of the album was just a simple brown leather with nothing to indicate what was on the inside.

“Open the book.”

Following your instructions, George flipped open to the first page and froze. He stared at the picture while 11-year-old Fred and George smiled up at him. George didn’t move for a long time and just when you were starting to get worried, he flipped to the next page. He watched that one for a while too before he moved on to the next. He did this until he got to the last picture. He watched as Fred in the picture hugged him and he read the words written below the picture as Fred mouthed them. ‘Love ya Georgie.’

Without a word George moved next to you and wrapped his arms around you and pulled you into his chest, burying his head in your shoulder. George held you tight as sobs tore through him. “I miss him so much. I wish he was here.”

“I do too.” You rubbed his back as he continued to cry. Once his sobs finally turned into sniffles, you slowly moved his head off of your shoulder so you could look him in the eyes. “George, why don’t you want to celebrate your birthdays?”

He sighed and used his sleeve to wipe his eyes, just like Fred always did. “It feels wrong to do anything without him, especially this.” George wasn’t sure how to articulate what he was feeling for years until this moment. “We used to do everything together and I don’t know how to do anything without him.”

“Oh George.” You pulled him in for another hug, running your fingers through his hair. “Fred wouldn’t want this. He would want you to be happy and love your life and cause enough mischief for the both of you. He would want you to celebrate your birthday, not pretend it doesn’t happen.”

“I know but why does it all feel so wrong?”

“Because he’s not where you can see him. He’s here and he’s with you every day in everything you do but you can’t see him. You can’t hear his laugh and it’s horrible but George, he is here. I see him in your smile and I hear him in your jokes and not just because you’re identical. I know it’s hard but I promise you, he would want you to be happy. It’s ok to try the things you did together without him.” This time George pulled his own head away so he could look at you as you brushed the hair out of his eyes and kissed his cheek.

“I’ll try.” That was all you could ever ask of him. “Thank you for the book and for caring enough to break your promise. I love you.”

“I love you too George.” He kissed you softly and as you pulled away, you smiled. “Is it too early to invite the whole family over to celebrate?”

George smiled and nodded. “A bit. Let’s just get through this year and then we can talk about bringing everyone else.”

It would be a few years until George was ready to celebrate his birthday with everyone else again but when his mom brought out the cake and everyone sang that stupid song, he could have sworn Fred was right there with him.

Taglist

@100gaysnails @george-weasleys-girl @weasleybuns @s1aaaaayyyyyyyt @asuperconfusedgirl @jsjcue

#hp fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #hp fanfcition #george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x y/n #george weasley fanfiction #george weasley x you #george weasley x gender neutral reader #george weasley hurt/comfort #george weasley fic #george weasley fluff #george weasley angst #harry potter fanfic

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artytaeh · 4 months ago

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

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

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

FRED WEASLEY:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

GEORGE WEASLEY:

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

🗯️ : yeah, but—

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

⋯ ⋯ ﹒ 🍁 ’

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

lonely, come be lonely with me . . .

🪻 ; . . . fandom : harry potter.

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

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

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grangerhater · 1 year ago

Text

WHO DID THIS TO YOU

pairing: George weasley x reader

warnings: violence

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

hurt/comfort , enemies to lovers

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

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

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

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

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

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

But what?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#george weasley #george weasley headcanon #fred weasley #george weasley x y/n #george weasley x you #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter hc #hurt comfort #fluff #angst #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley hcs #fred weasley headcanons #george weasley x reader #George Weasley hc #george weasley imagine

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gimme-gimme-georgie-weasley · 1 year ago

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so how can my day be bad? [g.w. x reader] (blurb)

inspired by bad by wave to earth :)

he was the sweetest, the brightest; the only one who could make you laugh. he puts the sun to shame with a blink of an eye, the flash of a smile. he was like a warm cup of tea amidst a bleak winter; the one who warms you up on the darkest days with silly jokes and warm cuddles.

enter george weasley, the one who made life worthwhile; and also the last person you’d ever suspect to be sitting in the corner of the gryffindor common room past midnight, sobbing.

your heart sunk.

his knees were hugged tightly as tears stained his maroon fleece sweater. strands of red hair stuck to his tear-stained cheek.

“love?” you called out from the staircase, lamp in hand, “is everything alright?”

his head shot up from his crossed arms; the sight made you even more distraught. his face was flushed and glistened with tears. his bleary eyes were puffy, and his nose was akin to that muggle reindeer’s. rudolph, was it?

that was besides the point. before george could even utter a response, you were scurrying over to him. you sat down beside him, arms wrapped around his waist. you made your bodies turn to face each other, now looking into each other’s eyes. he smelled of sadness that coalesced with bergamot and the sun.

“lately,” he started, “life’s been so boring.”

he slipped a hand under your chin, pulling your face closer to his. the gesture, despite being together for a few years now, made your heart fly, still. his red-rimmed eyes now looked into yours, glimmering with sorrow.

“it’s been a bad quidditch season,” he admitted, eyes tearing away from yours, now looking at nothing in particular on the floor.

of course, he was sad. gryffindor’s been losing all season. george, one of the best beaters gryffindor has ever seen, hated disappointing people. charlie set the standard, and he knew he had to best his dragon-taming brother.

“bad day?” you whispered, carding a hand through his tangled hair.

a smile then crept its way up his beautiful freckle-laden face.

“how could my day be bad when i’m with you?” he chuckled, “you’re the only one who makes me laugh.”

he then clasped your warm hands in his cold ones and slowly leaned in.

and the distance was no longer there; it was just a union of lips, a union so beautiful and soft, it melted away both of your worries.

he then pulled away. his quidditch sadness was now of a bygone age.

“so how can my day be bad?”

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley fluff #harry potter imagine #george weasley oneshot #harry potter oneshot #harry potter #george wealsey imagine #george wealsey x reader #comfort fic

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screamingoverfiction · 2 years ago

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Quiet Girl

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

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

Non-Cannon. Everyone is 17+

First Person and a little Third

Word count: 2.7k

Y/n-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

I hate it.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Is it Fred?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

- About a half hour earlier.

Fred-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"She's probably at the lake,"

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n-

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

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

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

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

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

"Y/n?"

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

Third Person-

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Y/n-

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Sorry, I-"

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

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

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

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

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

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

"I'm thinking about it,"

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

"Be my guest,"

#fred weasley #george weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred wealsey fic #fred wealsey x y/n #fred weasley x you #fluff #no smut #angst #hurt/comfort

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thestorycomesalive · 1 year ago

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Nothing's Gonna Hurt You, Baby

George Weasley x Reader

Fluff, Hurt/Comfort

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

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

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

.....

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

And you parted ways.

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

“Here you go,” he said.

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

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

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

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

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

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

*****

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

******

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you, Georgie,” you simply murmured.

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

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

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

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

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

#george weasley #george weasly x reader #harry potter #george and fred #weasley twins #angst #hurt/comfort

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fangisms · 1 year ago

Text

war is over

A/N: i figure this takes place sometime around the holidays 1996?? that seems like the cleanest place for me to shove it <3

Pairings: George Weasley x GN!Reader

Summary: George comforts you over your losses and grief during the war. 1.0k words.

Warnings: established relationship, the mf 2nd wizard war, angst, fluff, hurt/comfort, stress/anxiety, mentions of grief/loss, pet names (poppet, love), the ultimate trifecta: crying kissing cuddling

It had been a long holiday. With apocalypse looming and hopelessness rearing its ugly head, it had been difficult to focus on festivities and warmth. The mug of hot chocolate cupped in your palms seemed to burn right through your skin. You felt cold though swaddled in sweaters and blankets and embers and touch.

When you retreated upstairs, George had followed you with delicate strides. He’d give you space until he was required of you. Which was almost immediately with how you beckoned him to lay down beside you as your head hit his pillow.

And now you’re tucked under his chin, arms folded with yours over his knitted and monogrammed sweater while your cheek is pressed to his shoulder. The whispers of small talk between you simmered for long enough when you fell silent. If he had to guess, he’d say you’d grown too tired, but that was before you rattled in his arms and took a choked breath in.

“What’s bothering you, poppet?”

You sob and curl into his side, pressing your knees up against his thighs and balling your fists, clenching your teeth out of frustration and exhaustion.

“I…”—a tear slips down your upper lip and your damp lashes squint closed—“I understand what we’re fighting for—what we’re all fighting for, and I know we’ve all put in far too much effort to waste, I mean—the things people have done for this war and this cause is incredible and once it’s over and we win, lives will be changed, but”—you shake your head and press the hard heels of your palms to your eye sockets—“sometimes… it feels like we've lost too much. We've lost... so much. And I'm so sick of it.”

George swallows hard. He turns, tip of his nose pressed to your hairline as you agonize over your long-suffered grief. He takes a deep breath, only drawing the pads of his fingertips down your arm while your fist tightens around the sternum of his sweater.

He waits until you’ve begun to mediate your inner conflict. Your bones settle and you breathe like usual, and he can finally tilt your chin up and look you in the eye. He brushes his thumb over the supple and wet apple of your cheek. And he whispers:

“You’re right.”

You recoil slightly, a serious pout drawing your lips into an upside down half moon of disappointment. Until his lips meet the tender bridge of your nose.

“We are far too young to be so worried about the problems left for us by our parents,” he huffs, “But I think… at least I hope… that our dark cloud has the brightest silver lining waiting for us.”

It’s hard to believe. He’s never sounded so corny, you think, he’s officially lost it. But he smiles and curls his hand at the base of your skull and you want to trust all of him.

“Something wonderful is going to come of this war that is not going to come together until everybody’s shaking hands and dancing and we’re finally free of the horrid thing keeping us all in the dark.”

Fine. As hard as it is to accept his hope and rosiness, you are desperate for it. You want to share his awful optimism and bathe in whatever gold-crested fountain he was born from.

His fingertips feather and skirt across your face, behind your ear, beneath your lips, over your eyelids. So gentle you wouldn’t dare stop him. You can’t bring yourself to resist the slow and steady smile creeping across your face.

Then Molly shouts, “Dinner’s ready, my loves!”

His weight shifts to the edge of the bed. You open your eyes and curl your fist around the hem of his sweater. He turns to flash you a sweet smile.

“Thank you,” you whisper.

His warm hand cups the sude of your face as he dips down and softens you with a sturdy kiss. And when he tries you pull away, you urge him with another. And another.

“Come on, poppet,” George chuckles, “We’ll feel better once we’ve eaten.”

He assists you in sitting up but you still grown and flop against him like a rag doll. He couldn’t be happier. Neither could you as you hum and listen for the hushed footfalls racing down the stairs and the raucous laughter and the warmth that seeps in through every wall.

He kisses your knuckles and you whine in protest.

“One more minute.”

It’s muffled because your face is squished against his shoulder, so he laughs heartily and deeply but out of kindness.

“Alright! Minute’s up, I’m hungry”—he pats your knee with determination yet—“You’re mad if you think I’ll let you starve me just because I love you.”

You slip out of the bed, wobbling over to stand between his legs and pout—quite unserreptitiously—“So you love me?”

“Of course I love you.” You lean down to kiss him and pull away just as he closes his eyes. And as you do, his eyes snap open. “But I also love food!”

He leads you by the hand, hurried down the steps to the table, making sure to sit beside you with his fingers intertwined with yours.

The food is warm and soft and the people around you are gentle and soft-spoken and all of it fills you with comfort and relief. With confidence and just an inkling of hope. An inkling of hope to stake a battle on. To build purpose on. And maybe, you think, there are things greater than yourself that are worth fighting for.

masterlist

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley imagine #george weasley x gn!reader #george weasley fanfic #fluff #fanfic #hp universe #x reader #x gn reader #x gn!reader #angst #hurt/comfort #established relationship

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cherry-pop-elf · 9 months ago

Note

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

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

have a lovely day 🎀

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

—————————————————

Honey Wounds

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The WhizBang

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