#george witnessing the chaos

[raapija]

Nando was NOT having a good time after quali 😭

Peepaw complained to EVERYBODY about the wrongdoings committed against him. Lance... come get your man, he's causing a scene again

[jungwnies]

f1 grid (1/2) | dropping the towel

this photo of lando is taking me the fuck out rn LMFAO

୨ৎ : featuring : max verstappen, lewis hamilton, george russell, carlos sainz, & charles leclerc (click here for part two) ୨ৎ : synopsis (requested by 🫐) : pranking your boyfriend by pretending to drop your towel mid grwm (get ready with me), only to reveal you’re fully dressed...cue panic, confusion, and betrayal.

୨ৎ : genre : comedy ୨ৎ : tws : slightly suggestive ୨ৎ : word count : 857 (this is kinda short im shocked...)

୨ৎ masterlist ୨ৎ

ᡣ𐭩 a/n : this was so fun icl ... anon ily also... happy birthday!! <3 🥲

ʚ・max verstappen

you had your phone propped up, mid-grwm recording, casually explaining your "makeup routine" while max was somewhere in the apartment, completely unaware of what was about to happen.

the second you heard his footsteps approaching, you went for it.

with the most dramatic expression possible, you grabbed the edge of your towel and yanked it off.

fully clothed underneath.

max’s reaction was immediate.

before his brain could even process what was happening, he launched himself forward, arms wide, entire body blocking the camera like he was defending pole position.

“BABY?! are you CRAZY?? STOP—oh… wait.”

his breathing was slightly uneven, his eyes wide, staring at you.

then, realization hit him like a red bull one-two finish.

his arms slowly lowered, brows furrowed, blinking like he just lost a crucial race strategy.

you stood there, fully clothed, biting back laughter.

max just stared. processed. stared some more.

then, in a voice filled with betrayal and exhaustion—

“what the hell, y/n?! you almost gave me a heart attack!”

you couldn’t hold it in anymore, bursting into laughter, while he ran a hand down his face, shaking his head.

max turned away, muttering in rapid dutch, something about “stupid pranks” and how you were going to be the “end of him.”

as he walked off, still cursing under his breath, you called after him, “love you, babe!”

without turning around, he just threw a hand up in frustration, mumbling, “yeah, yeah…”

ʚ・lewis hamilton

you were mid-grwm, camera rolling, when lewis strolled into the room, green juice in hand, completely oblivious to the chaos about to unfold.

instead of questioning it, he immediately hyped you up.

“damn, babe, you’re bold today!” he smirked, watching you dramatically grab the edge of your towel.

you yanked it off with full confidence—revealing that you were completely clothed underneath.

silence.

lewis just stood there, blinking, processing the absolute betrayal he just witnessed.

hands slowly went to his hips.

���…so you woke up and chose violence?”

you were already cracking up, but lewis remained stone-faced, slowly sipping his juice with a level of dramatic flair only he could pull off.

your laughter only doubled, while he shook his head in disappointment.

for the rest of the day, he casually roasted your “failed execution.”

“at least make it believable, babe.”

“i expected more from you.”

“where’s the dedication? the art? the drama?”

by the end of it, you swore he was more upset about the lack of commitment than the prank itself.

ʚ・george russell

george walked into the room at the absolute worst (or best) possible moment—just as you dramatically grabbed the edge of your towel.

his eyes widened in immediate horror.

"y/n, what are you doing?! we have neighbors!"

his voice rose an octave, hands already halfway in the air as if preparing to shield you from an imaginary audience.

then—you ripped off the towel.

fully clothed.

silence.

a long, deep, exasperated sigh left his lips, relief washing over him like he just avoided a pr disaster.

“i genuinely thought i was about to have a scandal on my hands.”

you were dying laughing, while george simply pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering to himself as he straightened imaginary wrinkles on his already perfectly crisp shirt.

“you’re insufferable, i swear.”

as he walked out, still grumbling about your antics, you caught him checking the window blinds...just in case.

ʚ・carlos sainz

carlos walked into the room, immediately spotting you recording something suspicious.

his eyes narrowed.

“por favor, don’t do something crazy.”

you simply smirked, dramatically gripping the towel like you were about to change the course of his life.

carlos tensed.

and then—you yanked it off.

fully clothed.

carlos didn’t react at first.

instead, he looked around the room suspiciously, checking corners, squinting at the ceiling like there was a hidden camera crew lurking nearby.

“where are the cameras? lando put you up to this, no?”

you were wheezing, but carlos was still fully convinced this was some kind of elaborate scheme.

even after you swore it was just a prank, he shook his head, laughing.

“one day, i will get you back. hard.”

something about the way he said it made you gulp.

ʚ・charles leclerc

charles walked in at the exact moment you grabbed the towel, your expression all too mischievous.

his eyes widened in pure panic.

“mon amour, what are you doing?!”

in true dramatic fashion, he stumbled forward, nearly tripping over his own feet in a desperate attempt to stop the inevitable.

but before he could reach you—you yanked the towel off.

fully clothed.

he froze.

one hand went straight to his chest, like he had just been personally victimized.

“you want me to die young, is that it?”

you were already doubled over in laughter, but charles wasn’t done.

with a deep sigh, he dramatically collapsed onto the nearest chair, running a hand through his hair like he had aged ten years.

muttering in french, he shook his head.

“ma copine est complètement folle… (my girlfriend is completely crazy…)”

still recovering from his fake near-death experience, he peeked up at you.

“you enjoyed that too much.”

you smirked. “oh, absolutely.”

2021-2025 © jungwnies | All rights reserved. Do not repost, plagiarize, or translate

[whimsicaldoxy]

𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐏𝐘 𝐍𝐄𝐖 𝐘𝐄𝐀𝐑 - 𝐅𝐑𝐄𝐃 𝐖𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐘

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: you and fred share a cozy evening at the burrow on new year’s eve, surrounded by the weasley family’s warmth and chaos.

notes: established relationship, pre-war, insinuated fem!reader, no use of y/n, fred loves pet names, fluff

────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──────

The time was creeping closer and closer to midnight, and the evening air was filling the Burrow, the scent of smoked wood and Mrs Weasley’s famous treacle tart.

Fred was sat beside you on the patchwork sofa in the living room, his arm draped lazily over your shoulders. The pair of you were half-buried under a hand-knitted blanket, sharing a butterbeer.

“Go on, admit it,” Fred said, leaning closer as his freckled face glowed in the firelight. “You’re only dating me for my charm.”

You rolled your eyes, leaning back into the sofa. “Oh, absolutely. It’s definitely not for your constant, irritating smugness or the way you ruin a perfectly good evening by stealing all the treacle tart before I can even get a bite.”

Fred gasped dramatically, his hand flying to his chest. “Darling, you wound me! You know my heart belongs only to you.”

George, his brother, who perched on the arm of the couch like a smug cat, chimed in. “That and his stomach. Mum’s cooking ranks a close second.”

Fred ignored him. “You’re not denying it, though,” he said, his grin widening as he looked back at you. “See? Can’t even argue because you love me.”

“Love might be a strong word,” you said, lifting the mug to your lips, hiding your smirk behind the rim.

“Oi!” Fred started, his finger gripping the blanket in attempt to pull it. George gave him a sharp jab in the side. “Off you go, Freddie. Don’t embarrass yourself further.”

You yank at the blanket, pulling it fully over you as Fred bickered with his twin. “Speaking of embarrassing yourself,” you said, raising an eyebrow at Fred. “Are you going to ask what my New Year’s resolution is, or are you too scared to know?”

He perked up at that, his golden-brown eyes gleaming with curiosity. “All right. Let’s hear it. Let me guess—it’s to learn to tolerate my unparalleled wit?”

You leaned closer, the corner of your mouth quirking into a grin. “It’s to beat you at Exploding Snap this year. Every. Single. Time.”

Fred blinked once. Then twice. Then he threw his head back in a loud, delighted laugh before leaning forward. “Blimey, darling. That’s ambitious, even for you.”

“You’ll see,” you replied smugly, leaning in.

“Five minutes to midnight!” Mrs Weasley’s voice boomed from the kitchen. “Everyone grab your drinks and get outside for the fireworks! And George, if you light a single one before we’re ready, so help me—”

The whole family shuffled outside, you included, the cold winter air hitting you like a sudden shock after the warmth of the house. Snow crunched underfoot, white, soft and glittering under the light of the stars. The garden was a chaos of footprints and hastily trampled paths, leading to a makeshift firework display that George was already fussing over.

A stack of colourful rockets stood ready, haphazardly tied together in what could only be described as a precarious masterpiece.

As your head tilted to stare up at the stars overhead, Fred slipped his hand into yours, his fingers warm and rough against your own. He guided you towards the edge, his arm curling around your waist, pulling you to his side as the first firework shot into the air with a loud crack—it exploded in a burst of crimson and gold, lighting up the sky.

Fred leaned down, his voice soft in your ear. “You know, it doesn’t matter what resolutions you make this year.” His tone was so different from his usual teasing—gentle and sincere. “As long as you’re with me, that’s all I’ll ever need.”

The weight of his words settled in the air around you, and for a moment, you forgot about the cold or the impending war that loomed on the horizon. You turned to him, standing on your toes to press your lips to his. He tasted like butterbeer and laughter, his lips warm against yours despite the chill in the air.

Around you, the fireworks continued to burst in brilliant waves of colour—and when you finally pulled away, Fred was grinning again, his lopsided smile even more dazzling in the firework-lit night. “Next year,” he said, his tone edging back into a familiar playfulness, “I resolve to make you laugh at least twice as much. Shouldn’t be too hard—I’m brilliant, you know.”

“You’re something, alright,” you replied, shaking your head at him fondly. The words were laced with affection, and Fred clearly heard it, because he squeezed your hand tighter.

“Happy New Year, love,” he murmured, his voice low and steady.

“Happy New Year, Fred,” you replied, leaning into his warmth as another firework burst overhead, painting the night sky in silver and blue. For this one perfect moment, the world felt safe and whole, and the future could wait until tomorrow.

[rottenherbs]

Fred Weasley .·:¨༺༻¨:·. George Weasley [Rottenherbs Masterlist₊⊹]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ─ [HP masterlist] ─ ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Fred Weasley

Opposites Attract (✿ you and Fred have always caught each others eyes over the years but have never spoken. It isn't until you catch him trying to sneak into the kitchen // 1.5k // Hufflepuff! reader, Fluff) Slumber (✿ Cuddling with Fred // a short sweet little imagine of a weekend morning! Fred before a game // 325 // fluff) Just A Squib (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (pt.6) (pt.7) (pt.8) (pt.9) (pt.10)(pt.11) (✿ You're Harrys older sister, but born a squib. Your relationship with Fred bloomed over the years until one fateful night you had to have your memories removed. Could you love a stranger? // Angst !!) — continuing series — Hopeless crush! HC's (✿ Fred madly in love with you! Headcanons) Sure Thing (✿ rivals-to-lovers story that fits the vibe of the song “Sure Thing” by Miguel // 1.3k // enemies to lovers, pining) Lover (✿ Yule ball love // 3.2k // Fic based on Taylor Swifts song Lover, Ravenclaw! Reader!) Matchmaker (pt.2) (✿ Being the schools matchmaker soon became inronic after all the couples you paired seemed to flourish, but your own love life dwindled in pity as each day passed // 2k // ) NYE Headcanon (✿ HP golden era new years eve headcanons with reader) Secret relationship! HC’s (✿ Having a secret relationship with Fred) Something Batty (✿ You had gotten to your wits end over the winter break. No more homework to get ahead on, no more hobbies that filled your satisfaction. It was you and the empty castle. Could you attempt to write down and locate all the hidden passageways and paintings on the walls? The castle was big, but your desire for an adventure was bigger // 3.4k // Fluff) Time For Me? (✿ Fred is jealous is over your several hobbies and tries you pull you away for some alone time // 605 // Fluff) Off The Pitch (pt.2) (pt.3) (✿ The final quidditch match, a long-term friendship, and a confession. what else could you need? // Potter! reader, Fluff) Love Within the Forest (pt.2) (✿ A rule-following Ravenclaw finds herself swept up in Fred Weasley’s spontaneous adventure into the Forbidden Forest, where laughter, rain, and a little hand-holding lead to something unexpectedly magical // Fluff) Cant help It (✿ A long awaited confession sparked by an old time muggle song // 1.3k // Fluff) Ripe (✿ You and Fred Weasley have always been close—just friends, just laughter, just stolen time away from chaos. But lately, the quiet places you sneak off to don’t feel so quiet anymore. They feel full—of glances, of thoughts unsaid, of something like love blooming slow and soft like summer fruit // 1.2k // Fluff)

George Weasley

Stolen Sweater and Stolen Heart (☁ Slytherin! Reader wearing Georges clothes for the first time // 850 // Fluff) Inebriated! G.W HeadCannons (☁ Drunk! George and his party queen) Trouble Maker (☁ George tries to convince you to be a part of a prank. What was in it for you? // 377 // Fluff) A Weasley Holiday (pt.2) (pt.3 ((nsfw)) (☁ Your first time spending the holidays at the burrow) Lost to family ( ☁ Your family runs a longline of Death Eaters, yet you've found your love for wizard kind in other ways // 1.8k // Angst ) NYE Headcanon (☁ HP golden era new years eve headcanons with reader) Saint Like (☁ Molly never was a fan of you -- until one fateful night George comes back injured // 2.2k // Angst, fluff, rude! Molly) Smoking Hot (☁ stoner George and y/n sneaking around the castle to smoke // 2.2k // dr0g mention) Frequent Flyer (pt.2) (pt.3) (pt.4) (pt.5) (☁ Reader is a nurse at the Hogwarts infirmary and has a crush on George, after all he's always there after his Quidditch games needing to be tended to // 1.9k // George approx. 7th year - 17-18 y/o. Reader is a learning healer, approx. 18 years old // first year out of beauxbaton and interning at Hogwarts) Oblivious to everything but the fight (☁ Amid the chaos of Umbridge’s rule and the looming war, you’re too exhausted and focused on helping Dumbledore’s Army to notice that your best friend, George Weasley, has been in love with you all along // 1.7k // Fluff, Pining) Ink-Stained Mischief (☁ You’re a Ravenclaw student who works in the library after hours, helping Madam Pince restore damaged books and organize restricted section materials. You’re known for your quiet nature, your sharp tongue when provoked, and your ink-stained fingertips. George Weasley is, predictably, a frequent library nuisance—sneaking in after hours for pranks, secret D.A. meetings, or to charm the books into doing anything but behave // 3.7k // Enemies to lovers) Emerald and Ember (☁ After a year of secretly dating, Slytherin Y/N and George Weasley decide to go public by attending the Yule Ball together, defying house rivalry and school gossip. Amidst whispers and stares, their love proves stronger than judgment, shining openly for the first time beneath enchanted snowfall. // 1.6k // Fluff) Enemy of an Enemy (☁ A guarded Slytherin student reluctantly joins Dumbledore’s Army, only to find herself drawn to George Weasley // 3.1k // slow burn) Wrong Place, Right Idiot (☁ After embarrassing her in front of the school, George Weasley tries to win back a grumpy Ravenclaw’s trust by putting real effort into their Charms project. // 1.5k // slight angst, grumpy reader, slow burn)

[multi-fandom-imagine]

What is your ideal meet cute for Fred and George? Or mistaking them as the other meet cute? (I love the twins)

A/n: I too love the twins 🤭

•Fred Weasley•

It’s the first weekend trip to Hogsmeade of the year, and the chilly autumn air is bustling with students excited to visit the shops. The Three Broomsticks is packed to the brim, with nearly every table occupied and the bar swarming with people ordering butterbeers. You, however, have just managed to snag the last empty booth in the corner, cozy but big enough to share if someone asks. You’re lost in your own world, flipping through a book you brought along, sipping your butterbeer, and completely oblivious to the chaos around you.

Enter Fred Weasley, juggling three butterbeers and a handful of snacks, heading back to where George is waiting at a table,except someone else has taken their spot while he was away. Mildly annoyed but mostly amused by George’s lack of table-saving skills, Fred scans the room and spots your table.

“Excuse me,” he says, leaning down so you can hear him over the noise. You glance up, locking eyes with his freckled face and mischievous grin. “You wouldn’t mind sharing this table, would you? My dear brother seems to have failed me as a table guard.”

You blink, startled but too polite to refuse. “Sure, I guess. As long as you don’t spill anything on my book.”

Fred slides into the booth across from you, setting the butterbeers and snacks down. “Wouldn’t dream of it. What are you reading?”

You hold up the cover, and his eyes narrow as he dramatically scratches his head. “Ah, yes. ‘Advanced Potion-Making.’ Riveting stuff. Do you read this for fun or…?”

“It’s for Slughorn’s essay,” you reply, smiling faintly. “But thanks for the sarcasm. Very refreshing.”

"Ah must be a Ravenclaw..could be the answer to me never seeing you." Fred grins, leaning forward giving you a wink. "You’re welcome. Oh...how rude of me. I'm Fred, by the way. I’d shake your hand, but they’re covered in crumbs from these suspiciously addictive pastries and you are?”

"I am in fact a Ravenclaw and I do know how you are Weasley. I think everyone at Hogwarts knows you and your brother." Your lips twitched into a smile. "But I'm Y/n."You stated and before you know it, the butterbeers he was meant to take back to George have been long forgotten as the two of you start chatting. Fred’s quick wit has you laughing, and your dry comebacks seem to entertain him just as much.

Eventually, George finds him. “So this is where you disappeared to,” George says, arms crossed but smirking. “If you’re done flirting, Fred, our table’s open again.”

Fred barely glances at his twin. “Flirting? Please, George, I’m merely making a new friend. And besides,” he looks back at you, his eyes sparkling, “our table is much better company.”

You roll your eyes, trying to ignore the warmth creep up your neck fiddling with the pages of the book. “You can go, you know. I won’t hold it against you.”

Fred shakes his head with a teasing grin. “I don’t think so. Someone has to make sure you don’t overwork yourself with all that potion-making nonsense. I’m staying right here.”

George rolled his eyes but the smile on his face showed he wasn't bothered by it as he gave his brother's shoulder a pat. "Alright mate...see ya back at Hogwarts."

And just like that, a chance encounter turns into the beginning of something far more exciting than a potions essay.

•George Weasley•

It’s the day before the school’s Halloween feast, and the Great Hall is buzzing with decorations being set up and students sneaking in early to help (or cause mischief). You’re perched on a ladder near one of the floating jack-o’-lanterns, carefully enchanting it to spit out harmless sparks in alternating colors. The first year's would love it and it's not like it's going to harm anyone.

Unbeknownst to you, George Weasley has decided this particular pumpkin is the perfect place to hide one of his new prank prototypes a harmless (mostly) enchanted bat that flutters out at random moments to scare passersby.

As you mutter the final part of your spell, the jack-o’-lantern suddenly jerks forward, shaking violently. Before you can react, a loud POP echoes, and a small bat leaps out, flapping wildly. Startled, you lose your balance and tumble off the ladder, your arms flailing as a small yelp escaped your lips.

Before you can hit the ground, a pair of strong arms catch you mid-fall. “Blimey, didn’t think you’d be part of the decorations too,” a voice teases as you’re set gently back on your feet. You turn to see George Weasley grinning at you, his freckled face brimming with amusement.

“That wasn’t funny!” you exclaim, though the heat creeping up your neck as you stepped a few feet away from him brushing off your skirt.

“Funny? No. Brilliant? Absolutely,” George replies with a mock bow. “I’ll take full credit for that bat well, unless it gets us both detention. In which case, it’s obviously my twin’s fault.” He gave you a wink.

You narrow your eyes at him but can’t help smiling as you fixed your yellow and black tie. “So you’re saying you sabotaged my perfectly good pumpkin just to test one of your pranks? Rude."

He gives a sheepish shrug, though the grin never leaves his face. “Sabotage is a strong word. I prefer ‘enhance.’...made it slightly better.Besides, it was a bit boring, don’t you think? Needed a little excitement.”

“You’re impossible,” you reply, shaking your head.

“But entertaining,” he counters, leaning against the ladder with a confident smirk. “Tell you what, I’ll help you fix it and maybe not rig any other pumpkins as long as you promise to join me at the feast tomorrow. Consider it my way of making it up to you.”

You blink at him, caught off guard by his forwardness. “You mean as an apology or because you think I’m gullible enough to trust you again?” You teased as you placed your hands on your hips.

“Bit of both,” he admits with a wink. “But I promise, no bats this time....pinky swear."

You can’t help but laugh. “Fine. But if you try anything else, you’ll be the one fixing all of the decorations.”

“Deal,” he says, offering his hand to shake, though the playful glint in his eyes suggests he’s far from done with his pranks.

And as you both set to work on repairing the pumpkin, you find yourself smiling more than you’d expected because maybe, just maybe, a little mischief isn’t so bad when it comes with a charming partner in crime, especially when he's as cute as George Weasley.

[cx-boxbox]

So, apparently, Lando told an F1 journalist that during the drivers’ Dinner, George was the last to show up. The other drivers had saved him two seats, both conveniently right next to Max. When George arrived, Max waved, said, “Hi, George,” and gestured for him to sit down.

But George, in what must have been the most painfully awkward moment, he took one of the seats and dragged it all the way to the other side of the table to sit next to Lewis instead😭😭???

And THEN Oscar casually added today that the drivers’ dinner was so much fun because he got to witness Max and George silently giving each other death stares the whole time.

LANDOSCAR ARE 100% THAT HAPPILY MARRIED COUPLE WHO LIVE FOR THE DRAMA IN OTHER PEOPLE’S RELATIONSHIPS AND LOVE GOSSIPING ABOUT IT. Like, they made sure to sit together near Max just to have front row seats to all the chaos🙂‍↔️🙂‍↔️

Oh my GOD. This is hilarious. Thanks for sharing, anon, because I’m going to be thinking about Lando and Oscar being married and nosy together for a while.

[brainddeadd]

Cadillac Shift Masterlist

Daniel Ricciardo x reader, Oscar Piastri x reader, Yuki Tsunoda x reader, Lewis Hamilton x reader, Charles Leclerc x reader, Lando Norris x reader, Alex Albon x reader, Esteban Ocon x reader, Fernando Alonso x reader, George Russell x reader, Max Verstappen x reader

At 22 years old, she’s already shaking up the Formula 1 grid as a young driver, and she's not afraid to show off her bold personality. Whether she’s chirping other drivers or making a scene over the team radio, her playful, chaotic nature is something the fans can’t get enough of.

With Danny Ricciardo as her teammate, their dynamic is pure magic. Danny’s the one encouraging her to embrace her mischievous side—convincing her to do shoeys and laugh off the chaos. He’s like the older sibling guiding her through the madness, and together, they bring an energy to the paddock that’s impossible to ignore.

Her quick wit and fearless driving make her one to watch, and the combination of her raw talent and infectious personality leaves a mark wherever she goes.

Meeting Danny

Meeting the Grid

Teammate Bonding

Testing

Aus GP

Ricciardo's Rules

[httpvomitello]

Title: "Pretend You Love Me"Background:Y/N and Cedric Diggory have been best friends since they were three. You’re close to Ginny and Ron Weasley, but Fred Weasley is your biggest enemy, always teasing you—especially when you hang out with Cedric. One day, Ginny and Ron jokingly suggest that you and Cedric "fake date" to see how Fred would react. You both laugh it off, but when Fred starts getting unusually jealous, you begin to wonder if there’s more to his teasing than you thought.

Hellooo, i hope you like it ~ ♡

Fire & Ashes .｡*･ﾟﾟ

Summary: For as long as you could remember, Fred Weasley had teased you relentlessly, especially when you spent time with Cedric. It was a never-ending cycle of sarcastic remarks, pranks, and bickering that no one else could seem to understand.

fred weasley x f!Malfoy reader

You had no idea why Fred Weasley existed solely to annoy you, but you were convinced he did.

From the moment you arrived at Hogwarts, it had been a battle of wits between you. Fred loved to tease you, always making sly remarks about your "Malfoy genes" and how shocking it was that you didn’t end up in Slytherin.

You fired back just as easily.

"Bit rich coming from you, Weasley," you’d say. "You act like you were born in Gryffindor Tower itself, but I’m pretty sure you and George just moved in before first year."

It was constant. A relentless back and forth, a war of words and well-timed hexes.

The only thing that made it bearable?

Cedric Diggory.

Your best friend since childhood, Cedric was the calm to your storm, the balance to your chaos. When Fred pushed you too far, Cedric was the one who kept you grounded.

And that only seemed to make things worse.

"Ah, Diggory," Fred would sigh dramatically whenever you two were together. "What’s it like being her babysitter?"

Cedric would just roll his eyes, and you? You’d hex Fred’s shoelaces together.

So, when Ginny and Ron suggested a joke—just a little test to see how Fred would react to you and Cedric "dating"—it seemed harmless.

Just a bit of fun.

Except... it turned out to be a bit more than that.

The first time you let the "rumor" slip, it was at dinner.

Cedric, ever the good sport, played along. He leaned in close, murmuring jokes in your ear, making sure it looked like flirting. You laughed, nudging his shoulder, playing your part.

And then you caught sight of Fred.

The smirk was gone.

Instead, he just stared, his jaw tight, his grip on his goblet a little too firm.

And then he got up and left.

Your heart did something strange then.

A flutter, a hesitation—like maybe this joke was no longer just a joke.

It got worse.

Over the next few days, Fred avoided you.

No teasing. No sarcastic comments. No pranks.

It was unnerving.

You’d never known a world where Fred Weasley ignored you, and suddenly, you weren’t sure you liked it.

It wasn’t until you found him alone in the Gryffindor common room one evening that you realized just how much you hated it.

"Alright, what’s wrong with you?" you demanded, arms crossed.

Fred barely looked up from his book (and since when did Fred Weasley sit and read?).

"Nothing."

You scoffed. "Oh, come off it. You’ve been acting weird since—" You hesitated. "Since Cedric and I started dating."

His jaw twitched.

Your stomach flipped.

"You aren’t dating," he muttered.

You raised an eyebrow. "Aww, is Weasley upset his favorite rival has better taste?"

That did it.

His head snapped up, his eyes burning with something intense.

"You think that’s what this is about?" he asked, voice low.

You faltered. "I—"

"Bloody hell, you’re thick."

Before you could respond—before you could even process what was happening—Fred stood up, closing the distance between you in a heartbeat.

And then—

His lips crashed onto yours.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful.

It was frustration, longing, anger, relief—all of it tangled into one desperate kiss.

You barely had time to react before you were kissing him back, your hands fisting in his shirt, pulling him closer.

When he finally pulled away, both of you breathless, he rested his forehead against yours.

"Merlin’s beard," he muttered. "That was how I planned that."

You let out a breathless laugh. "Planned?"

He groaned. "Okay, maybe not planned, but—"

You shook your head, still trying to process the fact that Fred Weasley just kissed you.

That he liked you.

That maybe, you had liked him too.

"Alright," you murmured, still catching your breath. "I’ll bite. If it wasn’t about Cedric, then what was it?"

Fred hesitated, but then—he looked at you, really looked at you.

"You drive me mad," he admitted. "Always have."

You swallowed. "And?"

"And I thought if I teased you enough, maybe I’d get over it." He huffed a laugh. "Turns out, that’s not how it works."

Your heart thudded against your ribs.

"So... you like me?"

Fred gave you a look. "Obviously."

You stared at him.

Then, in true Fred fashion, he smirked.

"You sound shocked, Malfoy."

You rolled your eyes. "I am shocked."

He grinned. "Well, get used to it. Because if you think I was annoying before—"

He kissed you again, softer this time, but just as thrilling.

"—you have no idea what you’re in for."

[ssa-danhotchner]

Ghostin | Aaron Hotchner

summary: after Foyet, Aaron retreats into his grief, pushing reader away despite their unwavering love

cw: fem reader, BAU reader, angst, mention of Haley's death, mention of Aaron being stabbed, grief, relationship breakdown

wc: 1.6k

note: english isn't my first language!

Their relationship began quietly, built on small moments over time. It wasn’t love at first sight, but rather a slow connection formed between late nights at the BAU, working together on cases, and trading small smiles. You’d been colleagues before, but as time passed, there was a subtle shift. He admired your calmness and intelligence, and you saw a depth in him that most people didn’t.

It was in the little things: the way he’d offer you coffee when you were too tired to ask, or the small gestures of care when he’d notice you needed something. You started sharing dinners at quiet places, and those dinners turned into evenings where you’d linger in each other’s company, the space between you no longer just professional.

It was simple, but it was real.

When you kissed him for the first time, it was everything and nothing at once. It was electric, but not in the way of passionate, rushed moments. No, it was a slow realization that everything before had led to this. That kiss was just the beginning of a journey, the start of a love that felt like it could withstand anything. The way he cupped your face, the way you both melted into the kiss as if the world outside didn’t matter—it was all-consuming. When he pulled away, his breath shallow, his face flushed with something unspoken, you knew. He knew, too. This was it.

Aaron was never the kind of man to offer grand declarations of love. He wasn’t the type for sweeping gestures or unnecessary words. But he showed it in every touch, in every moment he chose to stand by you. And you? You showed him with patience, understanding, and unwavering support. It was a partnership, and it was beautiful.

For a while, nothing else seemed to matter. The job, the chaos, the violence—it all faded away when you were together. It was a love that made him feel like he wasn’t alone. A love that made him believe that maybe, just maybe, he could be happy again.

But the world has a way of changing everything, doesn’t it?

And then came him.

George Foyet tore into Aaron’s life like a storm, leaving devastation in his wake. You sat in the hospital by his bedside after the stabbing, your fingers wrapped around his bruised hand, whispering reassurances as he drifted in and out of consciousness. You were there when he woke up, gasping in pain, eyes unfocused until they landed on you.

You kissed his temple and murmured, “You’re safe.”

He nodded weakly, but you could tell—he didn’t believe it.

The worst part wasn’t the pain from his wounds—it was what came after.

When Haley and Jack were placed in witness protection, you saw the shift in him. The guilt, the helplessness. He would wake up at night, sitting on the edge of the bed, head in his hands. You would reach for him, pressing your hand against his back, feeling the tension beneath his skin.

“I should be with them,” he whispered one night.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You’re doing everything you can, Aaron.”

He shook his head. “It’s not enough.”

You wanted to tell him he was enough. That he deserved happiness, too. But how could you, when you saw the way his eyes darkened with grief? When you heard the cracks in his voice every time he spoke of his son?

Still, you stayed. You loved him through it all, even when his heart wasn’t fully yours anymore.

“I don’t want to keep you waiting, but I do just what I have to do.”

Then Foyet killed Haley.

And whatever part of Aaron you still had—was gone.

You were there when he crumbled, when his entire world collapsed under the weight of grief. You held him as he broke, as his sobs wrecked through him in the middle of the night, as he whispered Haley’s name over and over again like a prayer.

But then, slowly, he started pushing you away.

First, it was the late nights at the office. Then, the missed calls. The distance in his touch, the way his lips barely lingered when he kissed you goodbye.

And then, one night, he said it.

“I can’t do this anymore.”

The words hang in the air, so heavy, they feel like a physical blow. Your heart stutters in your chest, and for a moment, you can’t breathe. You blink at him, as if you didn’t hear him correctly, hoping the words were a mistake, a slip of the tongue, something to be fixed with a conversation.

But his eyes… his eyes are a distant storm, glazed over with grief that’s not entirely yours to touch. There’s no warmth in them now, no flicker of the man you knew. Just cold, an emptiness that swallows everything in its path.

“Aaron…” Your voice trembles, soft and barely there. You take a hesitant step toward him, a desperate attempt to bridge the gap that feels miles wide. “What are you saying?”

He takes a step back, his posture stiff and guarded. The air between you thickens, charged with the weight of everything unsaid. He closes his eyes for a moment, running a hand through his hair in frustration, then exhales sharply. When he opens them again, you see something break in him—a fracture deep enough that it feels like you’re witnessing his soul crack.

“I can’t… I can’t be the man you need me to be,” he says, his voice low, like each word is a struggle to get out. “I’m not… I’m not whole. I’m not enough for you.”

You don’t understand. You can’t. Your mind races, desperately trying to piece together the fragments of his words, but all you hear is the finality in them.

“No, Aaron,” you whisper, your voice shaking. “You’re enough. You’ve always been enough.”

His gaze flickers, but he doesn’t meet your eyes. It’s like he’s afraid to. It’s like he’s already made up his mind, and there’s no way you can change it.

“You don’t understand,” he murmurs, the words edged with something darker, something you can’t touch. “I’m haunted… by her. By all of it.”

Your heart stings at the mention of Haley. Of course, you know he’s haunted by her, by what happened to her, but there’s something so much deeper, something in his tone that makes it clear this is about more than just his grief. It’s like the love you had, the one you shared so many months and years building, has been eaten away by the remnants of his past.

“Aaron, please… Please don’t shut me out,” you say, your voice breaking. “I’m here. I’ve always been here.”

He glances at you then, and for a brief moment, you catch a glimpse of the man you fell in love with—strong, devoted, vulnerable in ways only you could see. But just as quickly, that flicker vanishes, hidden behind a wall he’s built so high you can’t reach it.

“I’m not the same man you fell in love with,” he says, his words cutting through you like glass. “I’m… broken. And I’ll never be whole again.”

“No.” You take another step toward him, reaching out, but his eyes harden, and he steps back once more, as if your touch burns him. “Please don’t do this, Aaron. You don’t have to go through this alone. You don’t have to push me away.”

He shakes his head, a bitter smile curving his lips—not one of humor, but one of sadness. “I’m not pushing you away,” he says softly, but the words don’t match his actions. “I’m letting you go. Because you deserve more than the shattered man I am. You deserve someone who can be fully there for you. Someone who can love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

The sting in your chest feels like it’s spreading, like your heart is fracturing into pieces, too. You want to scream at him, to beg him to see you, to understand that you’re willing to take all of him—the broken pieces, the ghosts, the pain. But you can’t. You know, deep down, that this isn’t just about you. This is about him, about the war inside him that you’ll never be able to fight for him.

“I love you,” you say, barely above a whisper, but your words crack with all the emotion you’ve been holding in. You want to scream it, shout it, let him know that you would do anything to stay by his side, to help him heal. But all that comes out is a sob, a broken plea. “I love you so much, Aaron. Don’t do this.”

He closes his eyes, his jaw clenched tight, fighting against whatever pain it is that he’s carrying. You can see the tears threatening to spill, but he doesn’t let them fall. Instead, he takes a deep breath and turns away from you.

“I can’t keep pretending. Not when every time I look at you, I see… her. Not when every time I close my eyes, I hear her voice.” His voice cracks as the words spill out, a raw vulnerability in them that makes your heart ache for him in ways you didn’t think were possible. “You deserve someone who’s whole. Someone who can love you without being broken. I’m not that man anymore.”

And just like that, he’s gone.

He steps toward the door, his back to you, and for a moment, you just stand there—frozen, as if if you move, it’ll be the end of everything. You feel as if you’re about to fall into an abyss that you can’t climb out of.

“Aaron… please,” you whisper, but he doesn’t turn around.

The door shuts behind him with a finality that echoes through your chest. And you’re left standing there, completely empty, as if your world was just torn apart.

You don’t even realice that you’re crying until you feel the tears burning your cheeks, hot and desperate. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t reach him. He’s gone, leaving you to pick up the pieces of a heart he once held, but now has abandoned.

The man you loved is no longer the man standing in front of you. And you can’t help but wonder if he ever really was.

---

[mclacedes]

Shameless (LN4 SMAU)

3. i'd rather say... unforgettable

warnings: suggestive content

summary: in which Lando prolongs the night with Y/N after his maiden victory in Miami

pairing: lando norris x fem!singer!stella!reader

face claim: camila cabello / kendall jenner

WC: 2.1k

✧ previously • next up

the monopoly game had turned into a chaotic mix of wits, jokes, and increasingly ridiculous bets. unsurprisingly, lando was loving every minute of it. each roll of the dice seemed to land in his favor, and he was absolutely shameless about it. his grin grew wider with every new property he snatched up, while the rest of you exchanged tired, defeated glances.

“i swear, you’ve rigged the dice,” max fewtrell grumbled, staring at the board like it was some kind of conspiracy. “how do you keep landing on unclaimed spaces?”

lando leaned back, balancing on two chair legs with that smug grin of his. “it’s not rigged, mate. it’s just skill.”

“it’s literally dice, you idiot,” verstappen shot back, shaking his head. “you’ve just got dumb luck, that’s all.”

lewis was the first to throw in the towel, stretching dramatically before standing up. “alright, i’m too old for this nonsense. you lot can stay up ruining each other’s lives, but i’m going to bed.”

“because you lost,” lando teased, earning a sharp look from lewis.

“no, because i value my sanity,” lewis replied, waving him off as he walked out.

soon after, charles and pierre called it quits, muttering something about needing beauty sleep. “good luck, y/n,” pierre said as he passed you, his tone half teasing, half pitying. “you’re going to need it with this one.”

“i don’t need luck,” you shot back, even though your dwindling monopoly money suggested otherwise.

the night dragged on, and the group continued to dwindle. george and verstappen left together, grumbling about their losses and promising vengeance next time.

lando’s reign of terror continued, but even carlos had his limits. with a tired yawn, he pushed himself up. “alright, i’m done. unlike some people, i’d like to wake up tomorrow feeling human.”

“lightweight,” lando teased, eyes sparkling with amusement.

carlos ignored him and turned to you. “don’t let him get away with everything, y/n.”

“i’ll try,” you replied with a smirk.

when the door closed behind you and lando, the silence of the hallway felt almost unsettling. you turned back to lando, who was now lazily stacking his fake bills in a showy display.

“well, congratulations,” you said, crossing your arms. “you’ve officially ruined monopoly for me.”

“ruined?” he asked, feigning offense. “i’ve elevated it. you’ve just never played with someone as talented as me before.”

“you’re insufferable,” you said, shaking your head with a laugh.

“and yet, here you are,” lando replied smoothly, standing up and grabbing the bottle of jack daniel’s from the floor.

his gaze flickered toward you, a mixture of mischief and challenge in his green eyes. “the night isn’t over yet, cinderella.”

you followed him to the elevator, the soft hum of the hotel filling the quiet between you. the building felt oddly calm compared to the chaos of the game.

“where’s your room?” he asked, pressing the button for the 10th floor.

“10th floor,” you replied.

“we're in the same floor. that's nice.”

lando nodded thoughtfully, his eyes briefly meeting yours with a grin. the elevator doors slid open, and he stepped inside, you following close behind. the soft hum of the elevator filled the silence as lando pressed the button without saying a word.

“you think the night’s over?” he asked, his grin still intact.

“well, i’m cinderella, am i not?”

“i thought you hated that nickname.”

“i do, norris. but if the shoe fits… you really need to stop calling me that, though.”

“no chance,” he said quickly, leaning his head back against the elevator wall with a smirk. “you’re like a fairy tale princess—just a little more sarcastic.”

“and iconic, thank you very much.”

“i’d say… unforgettable.”

the elevator ride felt unusually long with the playful tension swirling between you two. lando’s eyes, usually bright with humor, seemed to linger on you a bit longer than normal, but he said nothing, as if waiting for you to make the next move.

finally, the elevator chimed and the doors slid open, and you stepped out into the quiet hallway of the 10th floor. lando gestured toward the hall with a casual sweep of his hand.

“after you, princess,” he teased, his voice warm with an edge of genuine amusement.

you shot him a mock glare but walked ahead anyway. the floor was quieter than the others, and the soft carpet underfoot absorbed the sound of your steps as you reached his door. lando opened it with a quick swipe of his keycard, the door clicking softly as it swung open. with a smooth gesture, he motioned for you to step inside.

lando’s room was dimly lit, the soft glow of the city outside filtering through the curtains. it wasn’t much different from your own, but there was something oddly intimate about being in his space, something that made the air feel charged.

the room had a laid-back vibe, reflecting lando’s personality in every little detail. modern furnishings lined the walls, and the city lights cast soft shadows, giving the space a quiet, almost cozy feeling.

you glanced around before turning back to him. he tossed the bottle of jack daniel’s onto the counter and poured himself a generous amount into a glass, clearly not needing to measure anymore. he’d done this enough times to know exactly how much to pour.

“one more drink?” he offered, holding out the glass.

“you never stop drinking, do you?”

“you talk as if i’m an alcoholic... ouch.” he smirked. “i don’t usually drink much, but i just won my first race. and the night isn’t over, you’ve just said it yourself, babe.”

you hesitated for a moment before shaking your head. “well, i don’t drink whiskey,” you said, narrowing your eyes.

“wine, then?”

“yeah, much better. but only because you owe me for that monopoly humiliation.”

“fair deal,” he said with a grin, grabbing a bottle of wine from the mini bar and uncorking it with practiced ease. he poured a generous amount into each glass, handing one over to you. he clinked his glass lightly against yours. “to your valiant, albeit unsuccessful, effort.”

“cheers,” you said, rolling your eyes but unable to hide the smile that tugged at your lips.

you took a sip, enjoying the smooth taste of the wine, though your mind was still on the game. “so, what’s the plan now?” you asked, leaning against the desk.

he paused for a moment, his eyes on you, as if weighing something in his mind before returning to the counter.

his eyes were locking onto yours with an unspoken challenge. "what if i said i was planning on making sure you didn’t leave until you’ve had your fill of fun tonight?"

you raised an eyebrow, unsure whether he was being serious or just messing with you. "and if i say i’m fine with just having one drink?"

you chuckled and took a small sip from your glass, the warmth of the alcohol mingling with the chill in the air. you hadn’t expected the night to go like this, but something about it felt... right. comfortable. easy.

as the minutes stretched on, there was a quiet shift in the atmosphere, one you couldn’t quite put your finger on. lando’s usual teasing tone had softened, and you began to notice the little things—the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer than normal, the way the space between you seemed to shrink without either of you acknowledging it.

you realized that this wasn’t just a casual drink. it was something more, something that you weren’t entirely ready to define yet.

lando’s voice broke through your thoughts. “you know,” he said, his tone a little quieter now, “i’m glad you decided to come up here. you make the night a lot more interesting.”

you met his gaze, your smile faltering for just a second as the weight of his words settled in. “i’m glad i did too,” you said softly, the playful teasing fading into something deeper, more sincere.

the conversation flowed easily, just as it always did with lando. he had a way of making you laugh even when you wanted to stay mad at him. but beneath the jokes and teasing, there was something quieter—an unspoken tension that neither of you addressed.

at some point, you found yourself sitting on the edge of his bed, the soft clink of your glass against the nightstand breaking the silence. lando leaned against the wall near the window, his gaze fixed on you.

“you’re surprisingly quiet,” you said, raising an eyebrow.

“just thinking,” he replied, his voice low.

“dangerous for you,” you teased, trying to lighten the mood.

he chuckled, but his eyes didn’t lose their intensity. “you’re different tonight.”

“different how?”

he tilted his head, studying you for a moment before shaking his head. “i don't think i should...”

you frowned, but before you could press him, he straightened up and walked over, sitting down beside you.

“thanks for sticking around,” he said softly, his tone sincere in a way that made your chest tighten.

“someone had to make sure your ego didn’t completely inflate,”you joked, though your voice wavered slightly.

lando smiled, but his eyes lingered on yours, and for a moment, you were acutely aware of how close you were. the air seemed to shift, the silence between you heavy with something unspoken.

“cinderella,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

“yeah?”

he didn’t answer right away, his gaze dropping briefly before meeting yours again. “nothing. just… thanks for tonight.”

you smiled, trying to ignore the way your heart raced. “you’re welcome, norris.”

he laughed softly, shaking his head. “you really know how to ruin a moment.”

“someone has to keep you grounded.”

“lucky me,” he murmured, his voice carrying a warmth that lingered long after the words left his lips.

you both sat there for a moment, the weight of the silence between you thickening. your heart pounded in your chest, and you could feel the tension rising in the air. lando's gaze never wavered from yours, his expression unreadable, though there was something in his eyes that made your breath catch.

without thinking, you leaned in just a little, a small shift that seemed to change everything. lando’s eyes flickered down to your lips before he moved closer, his hand reaching up to gently touch your cheek, as if he was asking for permission without saying a word.

you could feel the heat of his breath on your skin, and before you could second-guess yourself, your lips met in a soft, tentative kiss. it was brief at first, a simple brush of his mouth against yours, but it sent a wave of electricity through your body.

lando pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours, his voice barely audible. “you sure about this?”

you took a deep breath, your hand reaching up to rest on his chest. “yeah,” you whispered, “i’m sure.”

and this time, when your lips met again, it was deeper, more urgent, as if the world around you had melted away.

THE MORNING AFTER

the sunlight filtered softly through the curtains, casting a warm glow across the room as you slowly stirred awake. your head throbbed painfully, a reminder of last night’s overindulgence, and you blinked against the haze clouding your mind. you were still in the same dress from the previous night, though your shoes were nowhere to be found. the bed felt unfamiliar, yet oddly comforting as you slowly sat up, the sheets sliding off your legs.

the soft sound of running water reached your ears, and you realized lando was in the bathroom, the sound of his shower filling the silence of the room. your thoughts were a blur—flashes of laughter, the heat of his kiss, the tension that had built between you two—and you couldn’t help but wonder just how far things had gone last night. everything felt like a blur, a dream that was slipping through your fingers as you tried to piece it together.

your head was pounding from the hangover, and the confusion only made it worse. you ran a hand through your hair, sighing as you tried to shake the lingering fog from your mind. there was no denying that something had happened between you and lando, but the details were fuzzy, and you weren’t sure what it all meant.

without overthinking it, you stood up, your legs feeling a little unsteady as you glanced around the room. you didn’t want to deal with it now, not with the pounding in your head and the uncertainty clouding your thoughts. without another moment of hesitation, you grabbed your shoes from where they were discarded on the floor, quickly slipped them on, and quietly left the room, trying to ignore the pit forming in your stomach.

INSTAGRAM

ynstella

📍who invited hangover

❤️ by landonorris, mclaren, bellahadid and more

ynstella: turns out a night doesn't end after midnight for this cinderella. thank you, miami. you're unforgettable ❤️‍🔥🏹

tagged: landonorris

click here to open comment section

landonorris: "congrats lando" would be nice yk

ynstella: i feel like that's all i've said these past hours 😭

landofan1: a hard launch???

ynstella: what does that even mean?

ynfan2: MOTHER HI

ynfan44: shut down those rumour mother

landofan66: girl that caption is only shutting my system down

landofan17: i wonder who took that first pic...

landonorris: tried to shift my focus by looking pretty and all but you still owe me some money for last night

ynstella: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

maxverstappen1: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

carlossainz55: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

georgerussell63: i'm never playing monopoly w you again norris

lewishamilton: yeah same

ynstella: BREAKING! ancient man breaks a chain and gets beaten up by a singer

bellahadid: SO PRETTYYYY pls let's get married

ynstella: going 🏃‍♀️

landonorris: what about me tho?

oscarpiastri: they're gonna take your phone again

mclaren: speak louder osc

bellahadid: oops... 🤭

ynfan67: that's my wife right there

landonorris: hey bolter, nice to see you

ynfan6: the aesthetic 😩

ynfan18: can we talk about these comments tho?

ynfan19: lando's comments specifically

ynfan20: there MUST be something going on

landonorris: cute caption 🙃

landofan5: what is that supposed to mean sir???

ynfan23: EXCUSEZ MOI???

ynfan20: i'm dying.

ynfan21: girl i'm already dead.

[malfoysanctuary]

For You, I Burn

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Fred Weasley has always been laughter and mischief, until someone crosses the line with you. And when he finally snaps, the entire room learns what happens when you touch what���s his.

The Burrow always smelled like cinnamon and sun-warmed wood, like safety and the childhood you didn’t know you were missing until you stepped through its crooked door.

You were barefoot in the kitchen that morning, tea mug in hand, wearing one of Fred’s jumpers that hung off your shoulder. The sleeves swallowed your hands, and the worn Weasley crest over your heart felt like armor stitched from love.

Fred came in, hair a mess, shirt wrinkled, that sleepy smirk on his face—the one that made your stomach tighten in all the best ways.

“Mornin’, gorgeous.” He kissed your cheek before stealing your mug for a sip. “Mmm. You really do make the best tea.”

“That was my cup,” you huffed, but your lips were already tugging into a smile.

“Exactly,” he said, cradling it in his hands like it belonged to him. Like you did.

And you did.

Fred Weasley was a walking contradiction.

He lived loud—always the first to laugh, the last to leave a party, the one who lit up any room with a spark in his eye and trouble on his tongue. He was chaos wrapped in kindness, sharp wit hidden beneath mischief.

But anger?

Fred wasn’t angry.

Not truly. Not the way some people snapped or fumed. His fuse was long. He shrugged off insults. Rolled with punches. He could be mocked, cursed at, even shoved—and he’d still grin like it was all a game.

There was only one thing that ever set Fred Weasley on fire.

You.

The thought of you hurt or afraid? It undid him. Peeled back something primal. Something furious.

It started at the Ministry gala—a sleek, post-war event meant to show peace had returned, though it still echoed with tension no one wanted to name.

You wore a midnight-blue dress that shimmered when you moved. Fred had stared the moment you stepped out of your room, blinking like he forgot how words worked.

“You… You’re going to kill me,” he’d said.

“Just for looking like this?”

He grinned. “No. For making it impossible not to.”

At the gala, Fred stuck close. Fingers brushing yours. Elbow bumping yours. Protective in the way a man is when he wants to keep you close, but still let you shine.

You’d just been talking to Angelina and George when it happened. Fred had ducked away to get drinks, trusting you were safe.

And for a while, you were.

Until a man in deep purple robes—older, smug, the kind of Ministry lifer who thought charm and cruelty were the same—wandered over. He smiled too widely, his eyes too sharp.

“I see the Weasley boy brought his… little project tonight.”

You stiffened.

“Excuse me?”

“Don’t play coy. Pretty thing like you? I’m just saying, the war made desperate men settle early. Can’t imagine you bring much else to the table besides a pretty face.”

George moved first. “Hey. Back off.”

But the man only chuckled and turned toward you again. “Unless that’s the charm, of course. Is that it? A bit of fun before something better comes along?”

You opened your mouth—burning to respond—but you didn’t need to.

Fred was already there.

You didn’t see him coming, but you felt it.

Like heat. Like a lightning storm behind your back.

Fred’s voice came low and lethal:

“Say that again.”

The man turned, startled—but still smirking. “Weasley—don’t get yourself worked up. It’s just—”

CRACK.

Fred’s hand slammed the edge of the table beside them. Glass shattered. Conversations halted. The music stuttered and dropped into silence.

Fred didn’t shout. He didn’t even raise his voice.

But the look in his eyes was enough to make the entire room hold its breath.

“You want to insult me?” he said. “Do it. Take your best shot. I’ve heard worse.”

His voice dropped, dangerous and still. “But the second you talk about her like that? The second you reduce her to something small? We’ve got a problem.”

The man’s face paled.

Fred stepped closer, each movement coiled, his frame radiating restraint just barely holding.

“You don’t know a single thing about her,” Fred growled. “You don’t know how she held me together when I couldn’t breathe. How she wakes up from nightmares with a whisper instead of a scream. How she fits into my arms like magic, like she was built to fix every broken thing in me. So you’ll keep her name out of your filthy mouth—or you’ll find out how far I’m willing to go for the woman I love.”

No wand. No joke.

Just rage.

Quiet and shaking and terrifying.

You gently wrapped your fingers around his hand. “Fred.”

His head snapped toward you—and his expression cracked. The fury drained from his face in a slow, pained collapse.

His eyes roamed over you like he had to check—make sure you were whole. Safe. Breathing.

“Did he—did he hurt you?”

You shook your head. “No. Just made me feel… small.”

Fred turned back to the man. “Be grateful that’s all she said.”

He took your hand and led you away, not looking back.

It was nearly one in the morning by the time you made it back to the Burrow. The party dress was long gone, replaced by one of Fred’s shirts. He sat on the edge of the bed, jaw clenched, fists tight in his lap.

“I scared you,” he said.

“No.”

His voice cracked. “I scared me.”

You knelt between his legs, holding his hands, thumb stroking the freckled skin. “You were protecting me.”

“I’ve never felt like that before,” he whispered. “That kind of fury. Like I’d rip the world apart if it even looked at you wrong.”

“Fred…”

His gaze finally met yours. “I don’t want to become someone who reacts like that. Someone people fear.”

You leaned forward, pressing your forehead to his. “You’re not. You didn’t do that for power or pride. You did it for love.”

He exhaled sharply. “That man… the way he looked at you. Like you were something cheap. Like he could take what wasn’t his.”

“He didn’t. He couldn’t.”

Fred’s arms wrapped around you then, pulling you into his lap, his face tucked into your neck.

“I love you,” he whispered. “More than I ever knew I could love anything.”

You held his face in your hands. “And I love every part of you. Even the fire.”

That night, you fell asleep tangled together under the quilt, limbs twined like ivy. And before you drifted off, you whispered:

“Still angry?”

Fred kissed your shoulder. “Not anymore.”

“Why not?”

He shifted closer, voice warm against your skin.

“Because you’re here,” he murmured. “And he’s not.”

And that was all that mattered.

Because Fred Weasley wasn’t known for his temper.

But he’d burn the world down for you.

[insomniac4000]

ChrisMD- Wedding Woes

The problem with being two internet-famous people in love was the internet part.

There was ChrisMD; The Youtuber. Known for football, free kicks, chaos with his mates, and his occasional vulnerable chatty videos about his mental health, and of course his short stature had somehow managed to keep his engagement to Y/N two million subscribers on Tiktok superstar, travel vlogger, and Instagram queen almost entirely under wraps for eight months.

That was a miracle in itself.

They had told their friends in phases: George Clarke first, who accidentally threw a cushion across the room and screamed when Y/N held up the ring during a game night. Then WillNE and Harry Lewis, who immediately began placing bets on who would cry more during the ceremony (odds were on Chris). Reev had cried when he found out. Theo Baker filmed a vlog that never aired where he just talked about how happy he was for them for ten minutes straight.

But they had kept it tight. Incredibly, miraculously tight.

Except now, three weeks away from the wedding, the pressure was mounting and they were both worried about fans catching on. Certain corners of the internet had ears sharper than any dog, eyes sharper than any owl, more cunning than any fox. They knew things, they found out things, they could be relentless. They were watching them. Always. And Y/N was exhausted.

She stood in the kitchen, steaming cup of coffee in her hands as she was deep in thought. She felt Chris’s arms snake gently around her waist from behind, his voice low. “Still thinking about it?”

Y/N didn’t answer for a beat. Then: “It’s like we’re fugitives.”

He chuckled into her shoulder. “You say that like it’s a bad thing. I’ve always wanted to be in a spy movie.”

“Chris.”

“I’m serious. We’ve got code names. Secret locations. George almost booked his flight under ‘Mr. Clarksworth’ like he was in Mission Impossible.”

Y/N sighed, leaning back against him. “It’s just not fun anymore. I didn’t think I’d care, but… they don’t know when to stop. I hate hiding. I hate lying.”

Chris turned her around, his expression gentler now. “We’re not lying. We’re just protecting it, protecting us.”

“They think we don’t trust them they’re still our fans.”

“Do you trust seven million strangers with knowing the time and place of our wedding?”

Y/N frowned. “…Fair point.”

Chris pulled her into a hug. “We’re doing the right thing.”

She let herself be wrapped in it for a moment. “I just wanted one thing… one thing that was just ours. But it’s like even when I’m not filming, I’m still being watched.” People often argued as she was a public figure that she wasn’t entitled to any privacy but she disagreed. Just because there were some aspects of her life that she felt comfortable about sharing that didn’t mean her whole life should be an open book.

Chris didn’t argue, in fact he wholeheartedly agreed with her. They only soft launched their relationship after four months because someone found out by studying Instagram backgrounds and recognising they were in the same place, twice. That was all it took. One of the main reasons why they fell in love was because they were on the same page, they understood each other. She knew him beyond free kicks and being short. He knew the Y/N who cried when she was overwhelmed, the one who needed quiet walks with no cameras, the one who didn’t want to feel like her entire life was up for review in the comments.

“Hey,” he said softly. “If it gets worse, we can cut more people. Smaller wedding. We can even just elope. Seriously. I’ll marry you in a shack on the beach if you want.”

Y/N looked up at him, amused despite herself. “A shack.”

“With a dog as a witness.”

“A dog?”

“A goat, then. Whatever Cabo Verde’s got.”

She finally smiled. “You’re ridiculous.”

“But you love me.”

“I do.”

He kissed her forehead, and for a moment, it all melted away.

Despite the tension, the operation was going surprisingly well. Their friends were incredibly supportive; George had filmed three weeks worth of his Podcast in advance, Arthur and Bach announced a season break for a month so no suspicions would be raised there. Will had a plan to set his Instagram location to constantly bounce between London and Madrid to throw people off. Her best friend and fellow content creator had a bunch of grid posts ready, some from the hen which had already taken place in Malta a few weeks before which would hopefully throw people off the scent, but even so the pressure was bubbling.

Two weeks until the big day, Y/N had a proper meltdown.

It was 1 a.m., and they were packing in their bedroom, surrounded by suitcases and crumpled lists. Chris was folding shirts. Y/N was staring at a list of last-minute confirmations from the wedding planner. And then, without warning, she burst into tears.

Chris was beside her in a second. “Hey, hey, what’s going on?”

“I just…” she sobbed, “I can’t; what if someone leaks it? What if it pisses it down?What if the flowers don’t arrive and the cake melts and I trip walking down the aisle and some idiot with a drone films it and I end up on MailOnline as ��Influencer Bride FAILS Wedding’?”

Chris bit back a laugh and instead pulled her into a hug. “First of all, you could fall face-first into the cake and I’d still marry you. Second, we’ve got this. Everyone’s been so amazing. We’ve made it this far. And third—what if it’s perfect?”

She sniffled against his chest.

“What if the flowers are beautiful, and the sun sets at the perfect moment, and you walk down the aisle and I’m crying like a mug and everyone’s just... really, truly happy for us. And no one ruins it. Because we didn’t let them. But most of all, it will be perfect because I’m marrying you.”

Y/N pulled back, her eyes glassy. “That was disgustingly sweet.”

“Thank you, I try.”

She exhaled shakily. “I just hate this side of it. The guessing. The pressure. People thinking they’re owed every part of us.”

Chris nodded. “We owe them great content. We don’t owe them this.” He kissed her head, it was her absolute favourite kiss and always calmed her down.

The flight out was like a covert operation

All guests were told to stagger their flights where possible and arrive through different airports. Everyone was instructed not to post until after the wedding.

George, Bach and both Arthur’s arrived together and pretended they were shooting a platform roulette when the recording had actually taken place a few days beforehand. The Sidemen had an airtight excuse; they just posted that JJ and Tobi were in Dubai, a planned diversion. Even Freezy played along, posting photos of him “in Italy” while sipping cocktails on a veranda in Santa Maria.

Y/N and Chris flew separately, Chris going through Frankfurt, Y/N via Lisbon, meeting secretly in a quiet corner of the Cabo Verde airport before being whisked away in a blacked-out van.

“This is insane,” Y/N muttered, laughing despite herself as she flopped into the seat. “Feels like we’re in a spy movie.”

Chris leaned over and kissed her cheek. “Worth it though. Hi I’m Bond. Chris Bond.”

“You’re so corny,” she giggled, he sent her a cheeky grin in return, the type that made her heart melt.

The villa they were staying in the night before was everything they’d dreamed of.

Perched on a cliff with whitewashed walls and bright bougainvillaea, it had gorgeous views of the sea, warm breezes, and an air of tranquil privacy. Local chefs were preparing fresh food. The planner had delivered everything on time. The cake was perfect. The dress was here.

No one had leaked a thing.

The night before the wedding, Y/N stood barefoot on the balcony, her curls bouncing in the breeze. Below, fairy lights twinkled in the garden where guests were laughing over cocktails.

Chris joined her quietly. “Hey.”

She turned, smiling softly. “Hi.”

He reached for her hand. “Tomorrow’s the day.”

“Tomorrow, I’m going to marry you.”

They stood in silence for a while, just holding hands and watching the waves crash.

“I’m glad we did it this way. Despite all the stress. Y/N whispered. “We did it. We really kept it quiet.”

Chris pressed a kiss to her temple. “Tomorrow, we get to celebrate. Not for them. For us.” They toasted glasses of champagne.

The wedding was perfect.

No drones. No paparazzi. No fans screaming. Just laughter, family, friends, elegance, sunlight, and the sound of waves in the background.

Y/N walked down the aisle barefoot, veil trailing in the breeze. Chris’s hands shook as she approached, eyes already glassy. George tried not to cry. Reev failed miserably.

Their vows were quiet, private things. Promises made not for content, not for cameras, but for each other although Chris couldn’t help but add a little joke about the number of subscribers he had.

At the reception, they danced under string lights while the sea sparkled behind them. The food was phenomenal. Harry got too drunk and gave a speech about true love that ended in tears. Liv gave them matching friendship bracelets “to commemorate your ultimate collab.” Becky forced everyone to do a shot, even Chris’s nan, who was a little bit too willing to comply.

No one checked their phones. No one streamed. No one leaked a thing. It would be posted soon, in their own time. When they were ready, maybe after the honeymoon but for now it was their little secret.

[kathlare]

circus of emotions

Lando Norris x Amelie Dayman

Summary: At Amelie’s extravagant circus-themed birthday party, George watches her shine amidst the chaos, but as the night progresses, he witnesses the cracks in her façade.

Wordcount: 1.7 k

Warnings: use of alcohol

full masterlist // request over here!

September 24th, 2023 - Merida, Mexico

The circus-themed party was in full swing. The room was a kaleidoscope of color, sequins, and laughter. Performers on stilts weaved through the crowd, a contortionist entertained a circle of awestruck guests, and a magician performed sleight-of-hand tricks that left even George Russell—who prided himself on catching the details—thoroughly impressed.

George stood by the bar with Charles and Alex, sipping on his whiskey and scanning the crowd. Amelie was unmistakable even in a room as chaotic as this. Dressed in a red outfit that glittered like starlight, her wide smile was infectious, and her laughter carried over the sound of the DJ’s beats. She flitted from group to group, effortlessly charming everyone in her orbit.

George couldn’t help but admire how she commanded the room. Amelie had this innate ability to make everyone feel like the most important person in the world. It was no wonder she had such a diverse group of people celebrating her birthday—actors, musicians, athletes, and influencers alike. George shook his head with a chuckle as she pulled Checo onto the dance floor, the older man laughing but eventually giving in to his sister-in-law's enthusiasm.

Charles nudged George with his elbow, pulling him out of his thoughts.

—She’s in her element, isn’t she?— Charles said, his voice just loud enough to be heard over the music. His girlfriend, Alexandra, was chatting with Carmen nearby, the two women lost in their own conversation.

—She always is,— George replied, taking another sip of his drink. —It’s like she’s got this endless energy.—

Alex leaned in, grinning. —I give it an hour before she’s absolutely hammered. Have you seen how many tequila shots she’s already downed?—

George smirked, his eyes finding Amelie again. She was now dancing with her older brother, Callum, both of them laughing so hard they were nearly in tears. —I think you’re being generous. Thirty minutes, tops.—

As the night wore on, George’s prediction came true. Amelie was several drinks deep, her cheeks flushed from a combination of alcohol and exertion. She was still the life of the party, but her steps were wobblier now, her laugh a little louder, and her words slurred as she shouted over the music.

George noticed Amelie stumble slightly as she made her way back to the bar, leaning heavily on her sister Stella for support. She waved off any offers of water or a break, insisting she was fine. Stella gave her a skeptical look before letting her go, and Amelie practically collapsed onto a stool next to George.

—Russell!— she exclaimed, her voice louder than necessary, her words laced with a drunken drawl. —Why aren’t you dancing? This is my birthday, for God’s sake! You’ve got to have fun!—

George chuckled, setting down his drink. —Someone’s got to stay standing to make sure you don’t fall over.—

—Pfft.— Amelie waved him off dramatically, nearly tipping off her stool in the process. —I’m fine. You worry too much.—

—Yeah, well, someone’s got to worry,— George said, steadying her with a hand on her arm. —Maybe it’s time for a little break?—

Amelie squinted at him, as if trying to decipher a foreign language. —A break? On my birthday? George, you’re no fun.— But despite her protests, her body was already betraying her, leaning heavily against the bar as her energy waned.

It wasn’t long before Amelie excused herself from the group, muttering something about needing air. George exchanged a glance with Carmen, who nodded toward Amelie as she stumbled toward the quieter hallway leading to the rooms reserved for the party.

George didn’t hesitate, weaving through the throng of guests and catching up with Amelie just as she pushed open the door to one of the private rooms. She was sitting on the edge of the bed, her glittering outfit catching the soft light, but her head was bowed, and she looked suddenly smaller, like the weight of the night had finally caught up with her.

—Hey,— George said softly, closing the door behind him. —You alright?—

Amelie looked up at him, her eyes glassy and unfocused. She smiled faintly, but it didn’t reach her eyes. —I’m fine. Just needed a minute. It’s a lot, you know?—

George sat down next to her, keeping a careful distance. —Yeah, I get it. You’ve been going non-stop all night. It’s okay to take a breather.—

Amelie nodded, her gaze dropping to the floor. She fiddled with the hem of her dress, her fingers trembling slightly. —I’m happy, you know? I really am. Everyone’s here, and it’s been amazing, but…—

Her voice trailed off, and George tilted his head, waiting for her to continue. When she didn’t, he prompted gently, —But what?—

Before she could answer, Amelie clapped a hand over her mouth and bolted to the adjoining bathroom. George followed quickly, finding her bent over the toilet, retching as the effects of too many tequila shots finally caught up with her. He knelt beside her, holding her hair back and rubbing her back in slow, soothing circles.

—It’s okay,— he murmured. —Get it all out. You’ll feel better.—

When she finally sat back, her face pale and her eyes rimmed with tears, George handed her a damp towel. She dabbed at her mouth and cheeks, her expression a mix of exhaustion and embarrassment.

—Sorry,— she mumbled. —Not exactly the glamorous birthday moment I had in mind.—

—Don’t worry about it,— George said with a small smile. —We’ve all been there. Besides, you’re still the star of the show.—

Amelie let out a weak laugh, but it quickly dissolved into a choked sob. She buried her face in her hands, her shoulders shaking.

—Hey, hey,— George said, his voice laced with concern. —What’s wrong? Talk to me.—

Amelie sniffled, wiping at her eyes but not looking up. —It’s stupid. I shouldn’t even… It’s just the alcohol, you know? Makes everything feel… heavier.—

George didn’t push her, giving her the space to gather her thoughts. Finally, she looked at him, her eyes red and brimming with unshed tears.

—It’s Lando,— she said quietly, her voice cracking. —I’ve been trying to forget, to move on, but it’s like… like he’s always there, in the back of my mind. No matter what I do, I can’t get rid of him.—

George blinked, taken aback. —Lando? What do you mean?—

Amelie sighed, her words spilling out in a jumbled rush. She told him everything—how she and Lando had been friends, how their casual situation had turned into something more complicated, and how it had all fallen apart. She talked about how hurt she’d been when he didn’t fight for them, how she’d tried to move on with Rodrigo and then with meaningless distractions, but nothing worked. And now, on her birthday, surrounded by everyone she loved, she still felt that ache, that emptiness.

George listened intently, his heart breaking for her. He’d never known the extent of what had happened between Amelie and Lando. To him, they’d always been just friends—maybe a bit flirty, but nothing more. Now, hearing her side of the story, he felt a surge of protectiveness for her.

—You didn’t deserve that,— he said firmly when she finished. —None of it. You deserve someone who fights for you, Amelie. Someone who sees how incredible you are and doesn’t let you go.—

Amelie gave him a watery smile, her tears still falling. —Thanks, George. That means a lot.—

He reached out, squeezing her hand gently. —Come on. Let’s get you cleaned up and back to your party. But maybe no more tequila, yeah?—

Amelie laughed softly, the sound tinged with relief. —Yeah, no more tequila.—

George helped her up, steadying her as they left the room. He couldn’t fix what had happened with Lando, but he could be there for her now, and he vowed to do just that.

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

liked by maxverstappen1, emiliamernes, and others

ameliedayman: happy, free confused and lonely at the same time.

View all 4,382 comments

nickaustin: Happy birthday Amelie!! 🎉🎈 You’re such a vibe, love you always 💕✨

thisisrozzi: A circus theme for your 22nd?? Okay, Queen, only you could pull this off 🔥🔥🔥 → ameliedayman: @thisisrozzi I mean, we had to do something iconic for the big 2-2 right?

georgerussell63: Happy birthday to the GOAT!! Can’t wait to see all the magic you’re going to make this year 💯🔥

madisonbeer: Happy birthday, Amelie!! 🎉✨ You truly are an icon. → ameliedayman: @madisonbeer You’re the real icon, Maddie! Thank you so much, love! 🥰

fans_in_the_know: Ok, but can we talk about how Lando isn’t liking her posts anymore? What happened?? 🤔 → landoloveisreal: @fans_in_the_know I mean... who knows...

ameliemyqueen: THE CIRCUS THEME WAS EVERYTHING! Love this era of Amelie, so excited for what’s to come!! 💃✨

louispartridge: Happy birthday Amelie!! You killed it with the theme! 😎 → ameliedayman: @louispartridge you know it’s all about the details. Glad you loved it!

fansforever: WAIT... where is Lando?! He didn’t like the post this time?? WHAT. IS. GOING. ON. 👀

saylorcurda: The circus vibes were REAL, girl. Iconic birthday, and you're an even more iconic person. 💥 → ameliedayman: @saylorcurda you are the best! Thank you for making my day!

stelladayman: Happy 22nd, sis! You’re a whole vibe and a half, can’t believe how much you’ve grown. Love you! → ameliedayman: @stelladayman Thank youuu, you made this birthday so special! Love you to the moon 💕

f1gossipqueen: OKAY. Lando just followed Amelie again?? After years of silence?? What’s going on? 👀 → musicfreak_97: @f1gossipqueen Hold up. He really followed her? This is a plot twist. 😳

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landonorris started following you

[kkrahe]

Unexpected - Chapter 1

George Weasley x Slytherin!Reader

Series Summary: You never expected to cross paths with George Weasley - your complete opposite. But as rivalry ignites between you two, so does something far more dangerous, an undeniable attraction that neither of you can ignore.

Chapter Summary: When Fred and George Weasley step into your family’s dark and mysterious shop in Knockturn Alley, the last thing you expect is a clash of wits. But as the brash twins push your patience to its limits, tensions rise.

CW: None :D

AN: This is my first fic please be gentle, I'm very open to suggestion or corrections. Sorry if formatting is weird/off I'm not sure how to work tumblr TT. Lmk if this is bad so I can just quit while I'm ahead :D

Masterlist

...

The scent of old parchment and dust permeated the air throughout your family’s shop. It was familiar; you had worked there every summer since you turned 14. The shop was eclectic, with shelves littered with the ancient tomes, cursed artifacts, and hard-to-come-by ingredients that your family had collected over the years.

Located in the narrow dimly-lit Knockturn Alley, most of the shop's patrons were familiar faces. Pureblood wizards who favored darker magic and the occasional wanderer, looking for something more sinister or rare than the opposite Diagon Alley could provide.

You leaned against the dark hardwood countertop, flipping idly through a thick, leather-bound book. Savoring the last few weeks of pleasure reading before you returned to Hogwarts for your final year and would be too consumed in school to find time for hobbies.

You had spent most of your summer in the shop, not that you minded. The crowded maze of a building was like your second home, providing a much-needed haven from your families chaotic manor. Truthfully, you savored summers in the shop, unlike Hogwarts and your family home, here you were in charge. The shop ran by your schedule and your rules.

The chime of the doorbell cut through the quiet, typically you had a few visitors throughout the day. Many of them friends of your family or the occasional lost first-year. Your eyes flicked to the door, setting your book aside.

Two tall figures crossed the threshold, and your heart sank. Fred and George Weasley.

You recognized them immediately - their flaming red hair, boisterous laughter, and of course their tendency to cause chaos wherever they went. Hogwart’s notorious pranksters stood out like a pair of sore thumbs in your shop.

You feel yourself tense behind the counter, watching as they glanced around with curious stares. They didn’t belong here, you knew that much, and from the inquisitive yet hesitant expressions they wore, they did too. But Knockturn Alley had a way of attracting all kinds of customers - especially when they were searching for something they couldn’t find elsewhere. You had a feeling they were up to no good.

“Blimey, this place is cheerful huh Georgie?” Fred called out loudly, his brash voice echoing through the narrow aisles of shelves and cabinets. So clearly out of place in a shop such as your own. Looking at his brother as he brushed a hand over a shelf of dusty potion vials.

You stayed silent, spine rigid as you sent them an unimpressed glare. The twins however didn’t seem to notice, not even glancing your way as they gawked at the assortment of forbidden magical goods on display.

George, was already across the room, picking up an ancient cursed dagger from a shelf clearly labeled “do not touch” in a bold angry scrawl. His slender fingers brushed dangerously close to its blade.

Your eyes narrow, voice sharp as you call out, “I wouldn’t touch that if I were you. Unless you fancy losing a hand, Weasley.”

George snatched his hand back, startled by your voice as he hadn’t noticed the presence of the shopkeeper. A flicker of acknowledgment and bashfulness in his eye as he set the dagger back into its stand.

His smile was boyish, charming even, but you didn’t waver. You weren’t amused, and you weren’t going to let them get away with their usual reckless antics here. Your family’s shop was dangerous - its contents were not for the careless or the foolish.

Fred, on the other hand, seemed intent on pushing the boundaries. Reaching for an ornate vase perched precariously on a pedestal near the counter, tipping it dangerously close to the edge.

Your heart leapt into your throat as you watched the vase teeter on the edge of the table. Snatching your wand from under the desk and catching the vase just before it hit the floor. The shining black ceramic just above the hardwood, frozen in place as you scowled at the twins.

“That’s worth more than your life,” you snapped, moving the vase to a different shelf out of reach from the twins. “Try not to break anything, Weasley. Unless you want to be in debt for the next three generations."

Fred held up his palms in mock surrender, grinning. “Easy there. No need to be so touchy.”

You ignored him, your patience wearing thin. The Weasleys were loud, obnoxious, and far too reckless to be in here. The sooner they left, the better. You had no interest in entertaining any sort of banter with the twins, surprised you could even find it within yourself to not kick them out of your shop that very second.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity of them rummaging through your family’s carefully curated inventory, George placed a small vial of Ashwinder eggs on the counter. Not particularly nefarious or ancient, but certainly hard to come by, and quite expensive due to its rarity.

“That’ll be 50 Galleons,” you said flatly, not in the mood for negotiation.

Fred leaned against the counter, flashing a grin. “Fifty Galleons? How about we call it twenty-five? We are just some poor schoolboys trying to make an honest living after all.”

You don’t budge. “This isn’t a joke shop, and I don’t haggle. If you want cheap, I suggest looking elsewhere.” You looked the twins up and down, a scowl forming on your face. Your words cold and cutting. The look exchanged between the twins told you they weren’t used to being dismissed so easily.

You could see the flicker of irritation in George’s eyes as he stepped forward, “Right. Must be nice, being able to charge whatever you want. Us Weasleys wouldn’t know anything about that though, would we?” His tone, though light, carried a hint of bitterness that made your jaw tighten. You didn’t care for his attempts to belittle your family’s business, nor his declaration of what he thought your goods were worth.

The air between you thickened, but you held your ground, refusing to let their words affect you. “Fifty Galleons,” you repeated coolly.

Begrudgingly the twins paid, sliding a pile of gold coins across the counter in a messy heap. Their smiles gone, replaced with clear annoyance and tension that simmered beneath the surface.

As they left the shop, the bell chimed in their wake, Fred turning to shoot you one last look, “We’ll be seeing you around. Don’t miss us too much."

You watched them go, glaring down your nose as the shop door slammed shut, the quiet you longed for returning like a heavy cloak. You should have been relieved by their absence. But you couldn’t shake the feeling that this wouldn’t be the last time Fred and George Weasley darkened your doorstep. And despite yourself, the thought unsettled you more than you cared to admit.

[jacquitries]

The Gravity of Light | F.W.

Fred Weasley has always burned brightly, his laughter filling rooms and his presence impossible to ignore. But beneath the charisma and charm lies a quieter truth. A yearning to be seen for more than his bravado. In you, Fred finds not only recognition but a balance to his flame, a gravity that anchors him in ways he didn’t realize he needed. In this universe, you chose him.

Click here to read an alternate universe where you chose George instead of Fred.

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

Fred has always been a firework, dazzling and fleeting, leaving behind echoes of laughter and smoke in his wake. People couldn’t help but be drawn to him, their eyes following his every move, their smiles growing wider in his orbit. He thrived in that attention, wearing it like armor.

But even fireworks burn out.

There were nights when the applause faded and the world grew quiet, and Fred was left with the weight of it all. The pressure to always be the brightest, to always carry the joke, the confidence, the charm. And in those quiet moments, he wondered if anyone truly saw beyond the shine.

George did, of course. George always did. Fred’s twin was his mirror, his anchor, the only person who could read him without effort. But even George had his limits. His own shadows to wrestle with and Fred never blamed him for that.

And then, there was you.

You didn’t arrive with fanfare. No spotlight followed you, no grand entrance announced your presence. And yet, Fred noticed you immediately. Perhaps it was the way your smile wasn’t drawn out by the loudest voice in the room, or the way your gaze held steady, unafraid to meet his. You didn’t seem dazzled by his theatrics, nor did you dismiss them. You simply… saw him.

At first, Fred didn’t know what to do. He tested you, pushing boundaries with his usual quips and charm, expecting you to respond like everyone else. But you didn’t. Instead, you met his wit with quiet amusement and his boldness with steady resolve. You didn’t get lost in his fire. You reflected it back at him, grounding him in ways he hadn’t known he needed.

It was subtle, the way you slipped into his world. A quiet presence amidst the chaos. You saw through the bravado to the boy beneath, the one who craved more than just laughter and attention. And you gave him that. You gave him more.

Fred found himself seeking you out without meaning to, drawn to the gravity you provided. He caught himself smiling at the sound of your laugh, softer than his but no less intoxicating. He noticed the way you listened, really listened, when he spoke, as though his words carried weight beyond the punchlines.

One evening, as the shop bustled with noise and laughter, Fred found you watching him from across the room. Not George, not the crowd — him. Your gaze was steady, warm, and it lit something within him that even the loudest applause never could.

“Why me?” he asked you once, the question slipping out before he could stop it.

You smiled, a quiet, knowing thing. “Because you’re you, Fred. Isn’t that enough?”

He didn’t have an answer for that. Not then. But in the days and weeks that followed, he began to understand.

George noticed the change, of course. It was impossible not to. Fred, who had always been larger than life, seemed steadier now — his fire burning just as bright, but with a warmth that hadn’t been there before. George, who had spent his life at Fred’s side, found himself stepping back. Not out of resentment, but out of quiet admiration.

Still, that didn’t stop him from noticing other things. Like the way your laughter spilled into a room, tugging at the edges of his thoughts long after the sound had faded. Or the way your gaze softened when Fred spoke, a look George had never realized he wanted for himself until he saw it directed at someone else.

There were moments, though—fleeting and delicate—when your eyes seemed to stray. Not to Fred, but to him. Those moments made something in George stir, something he quickly pushed down. After all, you had chosen Fred. And Fred, as always, shone the brightest.

One evening, after the shop had closed and the air was thick with the scent of burnt parchment from an earlier mishap, George found Fred in the backroom. His twin was bent over a prototype, his brows furrowed in concentration, the soft glow of his wand casting shadows across his face.

“You’ve got her,” George said, his voice low but certain as he leaned against the doorframe. His words hung in the air for a moment, heavier than he intended. “And I’ve got your back.”

Fred stilled, his wand pausing midair. When he turned, his grin wasn’t the sharp, confident one he wore for the world—it was softer, edged with something that looked like understanding.

“You’re alright, you know that?” Fred said, crossing the distance to clap George on the shoulder. His grip was firm, grounding, as though he knew exactly what George wasn’t saying.

“Don’t get sappy on me, Fred,” George quipped, his lips curving into a grin. But his voice held a faint tightness, and his eyes shimmered with an unspoken truth.

Fred chuckled, the sound breaking the tension, but it didn’t erase what lingered between them. George would never say it aloud. How he’d seen you too, how he’d wondered, just for a moment, what it might have been like if things were different.

But Fred was his brother. And for George, that was enough.

Later that night, as you sat beside Fred, your hand brushing his beneath the table, he felt the world shift again. For the first time, he wasn’t afraid of burning too brightly or fading too soon. With you, he was more than the firework. He was the flame, steady and constant, burning for himself—and for you.

And for once, that was enough.

[russellsppttemplates]

Loooved your latest Franco piece! Buy now I can only think about y/n being Brazilian...u know Brazil and Argentina are hermanos up until football, right? It's an crazy old "beef". Imagine Franco and y/n bickering about football like Pierre and Kika, and George and Carmen...but with a ton of history to back them up. I'm sure it would be chaos🤣

“Franco, you know Flamengo is going to crush Boca Juniors in the next Copa Libertadores, right?”, Y/N teased, lounging comfortably on the couch, wearing a vibrant green and yellow Brazil jersey, "but don't worry, amor, I'll comfort you after".

Franco rolled his eyes, a playful smirk tugging at his lips, "you dream, Y/N - Boca is unstoppable. The Bombonera will be a fortress!”.

Your banter was a ritual as much as the sport itself. It all started when you had to cover for one of your colleagues in the factory right on the day of the game, so your negotiation was simple - you'd cover if they let you watch the game on your break.

What you didn't know is that there was also another person who not only shared your passion for racing but also for football, finding Franco focused on the screen as the game was about to start. What began as a quick exchange of words evolved to a never-ending match of words, neither willing to concede defeat as the rest of the team gathered to watch two football fans argue, too lost between their engineer and their driver to even witness the monumental match happening.

“Remember 2004?”, you fired back, referencing that unforgettable Copa America final, "Adriano, last minute goal? Ring any bells?”.

Franco groaned dramatically, "you had to bring that up, didn’t you?", he retorted, pointing fingers, "but don't forget 1990, when Caniggia silenced the Maracanã! Not a peep after that one!".

The atmosphere in the apartment was fully charged, the air crackling with playful hostility, but beneath it lay an undeniable camaraderie for the sport.

You cherished these verbal sparring matches because they bridged the cultural divide, transforming rivalry into steadfast friendship that had grown into the beautiful relationship you have now.

“Okay, but what about our World Cup titles? Five. A full hand of them! Count them!”, you grinned widely, your eyes twinkling with challenge.

Franco feigned a sigh of defeat before responding with a grin of his own, "maybe so, but we have Maradona. That's worth more than five titles!”, he said, wiggling his fingers.

As the day unfolded, your spirited competition continued, seasoned with laughter and mock-serious arguments. The television flickered with highlights and historic moments, each pause generating another round of passionate debate between you.

Dinner was a mixture of cuisines as well, with Franco insisting on empanadas while you insisted on adding feijoada to the menu.

As you settled down to watch a replay of an old Argentina vs. Brazil match, the laughter softened into something more profound. Your rivalry, no matter how vehemently expressed, was just a surface layer over your deep bond.

In the world of racing, you both pushed towards the same goal. In football, you were rivals, igniting each other’s passions.

“Franco", you mused as the game played on, “I think we might argue forever about who's better...”.

He leaned back, a satisfied smile playing on his lips, "Maybe. But that's what makes it fun, right? Besides, I think when our kids come around we might be able to make you switch", he spoke unabashedly as he saw you gulp, "or at the very least, there will be more of us to argue!".

(Thank you for sending this in ✨️)