#molly Weasley the second

[correcthpnextgen]

Molly Weasley ll

Casted with Luca Hollestelle

Headcanons:

- Oldest daughter of Percy Weasley and Audrey Weasley

- Older sister of Lucy Weasley.

- Loves to paint.

[velvet4510]

Instead of (or as well as) Bellatrix, Molly really should’ve killed Greyback in the Battle of Hogwarts. That was a real missed opportunity, as Greyback’s fate isn’t even specified in canon. Book 7 already gave us a huge reminder of his evil in the Snatchers scene, which needed a payoff that never came. He’s the one who mauled and almost killed Bill; Molly already had way more personal beef with him than with Bellatrix. Her line “you will never touch our children again!” makes way more sense directed at him, since he not only already hurt Bill, but he targeted and hunted so many children, including Remus, for years. For him to be ultimately taken down by a protective mother would be incredibly satisfying. In the Weasley siblings’ eyes, it’d be the wizarding world equivalent of Mama destroying the Boogeyman.

[dreamingofmarauders]

You idiot!

Fred Weasley x fem! reader

Summary: In which Fred promises you he will be careful during the battle, but things don't always go to plan.

Trigger warning: Violence, death (to some sort), blood, injury

Note: Not really sure what I did, but I tried. Also if anything seems off, I am sorry, but I tried my best to catch any mistakes. I hope you all will enjoy it to some extent! :)

𝐌𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭

•❅───✧❅✦❅✧───❅•

It was the early hours of May the Second. Y/n sat at the Gryffindor table, her leg bouncing up and down in anxiety. A mere hour ago, y/n was in her room, flipping through a photo album of when she went to Hogwarts, giggling at the moving pictures that contained herself along with Lee, George and Fred.

Fred.

Her boyfriend. Her one true love.

The boy she had developed feelings for in her fourth year, not confessing until her final year, when the pair were stuck together in a broom closet which would not budge. Only when the two were in each other's arms had the door swung open to reveal a triumphant looking George and Lee. Turned out it had all been a scheme by the pair of best friends to get Fred and y/n to confess they fancied one another.

The two had been together since then. Fred had asked y/n to move in with him the summer after she graduated. The twins had left school earlier to start up their shop but also since they were done with the pink toad known as Umbridge.

Y/n had been living with Fred in the flat the two brothers had above their shop. Y/n realized she was in love with Fred when one night, Fred had found Y/n crying. Her last bit of family, her brother, her twin, had joined the Death Eaters. She had broken down completely at that but y/n slowly recovered. Months after the news, Fred had discovered y/n crying her heart out in their sitting room in the flat, much to his surprise. Fred had simply held her until she stopped crying, and then pampered her the whole night. It was then y/n realized she didn't fancy Fred, she loved him.

However, with Voldemort having taken over, they had shifted to Fred's Aunt Muriel's place. The months passed by slowly but each day was almost dreadful, as y/n feared of hearing of anyone else she knew having been killed by Voldemort's death eaters. At one point, y/n had decided to join alongside Fred, Potterwatch, a radio station with real, accurate, up to date news. She adopted the identity of Valerie.

As the clock was nearing midnight on May the First, y/n's quiet, peaceful atmosphere had been interrupted by Fred who had burst into her room, his face looking solemn. Y/n felt her stomach twist in nervousness.

"Freddie, what's wrong?"

"It's Harry. He's at Hogwarts, we've all been called to the front." Fred answered, holding up a coin that had been used for communication between D.A. members.

Y/n gulped.

This was it. The final battle.

It all ends.

Y/n had stood up and rushed into Fred's arms.

"Promise me." She said, her voice muffled against Fred's chest.

"Pardon me, love?"

Y/n broke away and looked up at him, raising her hand out. "Promise me you'll be safe."

"Love-"

"Promise me, Freddie."

Fred had looked at her with soft eyes until he sighed and nodded.

"I promise, my love."

As y/n sat in the Great Hall, listening to the instructions being given out, her head spun with many thoughts.

What if they lost? How many casualties would there be? And... what if something happened to Fred?

A warm hand intertwined into hers and y/n broke out of the cage in her head, and turned to look at Fred beside her. His chocolate brown eyes provided warmth, a comfort that made y/n feel at home. Fred was her home.

He gave her a reassuring smile, giving her hand a gentle squeeze, and y/n felt herself relaxed a bit.

Perhaps everything would turn out alright in the end.

Oh how wrong she was.

During the fight, y/n had been separated from the twins and she ran, dodging spells, helping anyone who needed help, fighting back her attackers.

Y/n needed to see him. She couldn't rest until she was with Fred again. Y/n rounded another corner and paused for a moment.

Fred and Percy had just backed into view, both of them dueling masked and hooded men. Harry, Ron, and Hermione came up behind y/n and the four ran forth to help:

Jets of light flew in every direction and the man dueling Percy backed off, fast:

Then his hood slipped and they saw a high forehead and streaked hair - “Hello, Minister!” bellowed Percy, sending a neat jinx straight at Thicknesse, who dropped his wand and clawed at the front of his robes, apparently in awful discomfort. “Did I mention I'm resigning?”

“You're joking, Perce!” shouted Fred as the Death Eater he was battling collapsed under the weight of three separate Stunning Spells. Thicknesse had fallen to the ground with tiny spikes erupting all over him; he seemed to be turning into some form of sea urchin.

Fred looked at Percy with glee before his eyes landed on y/n who had just stunned a death eater and turned to look at him. Although, Fred didn't realize, y/n's face had paled. Augustus Rookwood had shot a spell aimed in the two brothers' direction. Y/n began to move forth.

“You actually are joking, Perce… I don't think I've heard you joke since you were-“ Y/n got to Fred but right at that moment, the air exploded. They had been grouped together, Harry, Ron, Hermione, Fred, y/n and Percy, the three Death Eaters at their feet, one Stunned, the other Transfigured; and in that fragment of a moment, when danger seemed temporarily at bay, the world was rent apart, y/n felt herself flying through the air, her grip tight on Fred, his arms around her.

The pair slammed onto the ground hard. Y/n's leg was warm and sticky, her skin burning, meaning blood was pouring out of a nasty gash. The dust and debris had swallowed them all in darkness, shouts and screams bounced in the now torn apart corridor.

When the dust settled, y/n was finally able to see. Her face paled and y/n's heart stopped at the sight before her.

Fred lay beside her, his body limp, his arms still loosely around her, his eyes shut, his head profusely bleeding.

"No, no, no..." Y/n murmured out in horror. Fred lay lifeless beside her. Y/n shook Fred, tears racing down her face. "No! You promised!" She yelled at him, beginning to lose control of her breathing. "Wake up!"

Percy and Ron kneeled down beside y/n, their faces distraught, shock flooding their whole body.

"Y/n," Percy tried, who was also crying. "He's gone-"

"NO! HE'S NOT!" She yelled at him, sobbing.

A thought suddenly occurred to her.

"Check his pulse!"

"What?" Ron spoke out, baffled. But y/n didn't hear, she hastily leaned forth and placed her ear against Fred's chest. Y/n strained to listen, her heart pounding harder and harder by the second. She couldn't hear anything and she was starting to lose hope.

Until, she did.

A very quiet and slow heartbeat answered to her.

Her Fred was alive.

A relieved whimper of joy escaped her.

"He's alive!" She said, crying with joy. The other two brothers looked at her with wide eyes and let out watery laughs of relief. Hermione and Harry smiled gently at that, wiping their tears away.

"We have to get him out of here." Percy ordered and with the help of Ron and Harry, they lifted up Fred and began to move as fast as they could, with y/n and Hermione right behind them.

Although not too soon did a loud, menacing voice ring throughout the whole castle, causing all signs of the battle to cease.

Lord Voldemort had granted Harry Potter an hour to surrender himself or watch the battle resume once more, with even deadlier consequences.

The group walked off to the Great Hall, where everyone was regrouping. Bodies of the fallen were being brought in, the injured were being treated, families searched for one another and hugged one another out of the relief of being alive. That was how the rest of the Weasley family was.

They were gathered together, embracing one another and trying to find more of their group. George was the first to spot the newly arrived.

His eyes went wide as his face paled. He felt all the breath leave him at the sight of his twin, his best friend, being carried in such a state, making George fear the worst. The rest of the family, noticing George's gaze, turned and felt all their worst nightmares come true.

Molly was the first to act, rushing forth as Percy, Ron and Harry gently placed Fred on the ground.

"My boy!" She cried out, going onto the ground beside y/n. She then looked at Y/n who sat there, staring numbly at Fred. "Oh my dear, y/n..." Molly said, bringing her into a hug. Y/n embraced the older Weasley tightly before pulling apart.

"He's alive." Y/n said, causing the whole family to sigh in relief, as Percy came with Madam Pomfrey who immediately began to tend to Fred.

They all silently watched, and after a painfully long ten minutes or so, the matron straightened and said, "I've done everything I can. He should wake up soon." With that, Madam Pomfrey moved onto another patient.

They all nodded, waiting for Fred to wake up.

Not soon after, Fred suddenly gasped, his eyes fluttering open, roaming around as he tried to recall where he was. The entirety of the Weasley family plus Harry and Hermione let out cries or gasps of relief. Y/n had begun to cry, and that's what made Fred look at her.

His eyes softened and he slowly sat up, wincing at the pounding in his head. Fred gently placed his hands on y/n's face, making her look up at him.

"Y/n," Fred said, feeling his heart shatter as y/n merely began to sob. "Y/n, love-"

Suddenly, y/n smacked Fred on the arm, making him groan and everyone else to look on with surprise.

"What was that for, love?" Fred murmured out in pain.

"You idiot! What were you thinking? Joking around like that during a battle? You bloody promised to be safe!" Y/n let out a sob once again, "I almost lost you."

Fred sighed and brought the girl into his chest, who held onto him tightly afraid he would disappear.

"I love you." She breathed out, making Fred freeze at the confession. He placed a kiss on y/n's head.

"I love you too, darling. I love you so much." He confessed back

With that having been said, the two would repeat those words to each other everyday for the rest of their lives, as Harry would claim victory over Voldemort in the final battle, ending the reign of terror over the wizarding world for good.

[whoa-axel-chill]

Normalize characters/OCs having a good biological family but also having a loving second family

[cyberblink]

I haven't for whatever reason thought to post about this yet so here is my 130k epic Harry Potter with adults re-write aka The Order of the Phoenix and their Increasingly Desperate Fight Against The Unmentionable Man aka Sirius Black and the Crushing Weight of Being A Proper Adult.

I'm properly proud of it. It's up to chapter 63(?) now, which is ridiculous and I have around 20k words left to publish, most of it proper drama. I'm not 100% sure what I'm meant to do with my life now that I've finished it either, but that's something for future me to cope with as I'm currently just happy it's done.

[missdblack22]

https://archiveofourown.org/works/57097867/chapters/158814871

Nuevo capítulo de Anécdotas del día a día

Informe

Molly Weasley II, miembro del Wizengamot, está a punto de leer el informe sobre lo que sufrieron sus padres, Percy y Audrey Weasley, durante la Segunda Guerra Mágica.

New chapter of Everyday Anecdotes

Report

Molly Weasley II, a member of the Wizengamot, is about to read the report about what her parents, Percy and Audrey Weasley, suffered during the Second Magic War.

[whoopsiesnodaisies]

No but hear me out!

Sunshiney young Molly Prewett and edgelord young Bellatrix Black being baby friends to lovers at Hogwarts and then their relationship is broken up by Rita when she makes up some giant rumor and tries to ruin their lives so that she can get with Bellatrix, but really it just breaks Molly and Bellatrix up because of like societal homophobia and shit and ultimately ruins their lives and and she was best friends with Rita which drives Bellatrix back towards her crazy ass family because of some realization about 'loyalty' or something and ahhhhh

[monsterblogging]

"I know JK Rowing is a terrible person but her books are so good-"

You sure about that?

I mean, just for a start, have you taken a good look at her fantasy creatures lately? A whole bunch of them are straight-up based on malicious and dehumanizing stereotypes about actual people.

Remember the werewolves? And being a werewolf was made into a kind of metaphor for having AIDS?

And you know how AIDS was first associated with gay men? And how conservatives back in the day were claiming gay men were preying on children in order to convert them to gayness?

Remember how Fenrir Greyback preyed on children in particular? Yeah, she put that subtext in there. She was an adult in the 90's. She knew damn well what she was doing.

Remember the house elves? Remember how most of them loved to serve and needed to have a home and a master or else they just wouldn't know what to do with themselves?

Did you know that's literally what slavers in the American South said about the Black people they kept enslaved? Go look up the happy slave myth.

Do I even need to get into the goblins and the antisemitic tropes they're based on? No, folkloric goblins were not gold-hoarding bankers waiting for their chance to stab humanity in the back.

"But the characters are so good!"

Are you kidding me?

Most of her characters are pretty one-dimensional, including Harry. Her idea of making a morally complicated character is giving a tragic past to a bully. Numerous characters are little more than stereotypes. (Looking at Fleur right now.) Literally anybody, including you, can easily make dozens of characters just as good, if not better. (It doesn't exactly take a lot of character designing skill to go, "hey, actually, having a sad backstory doesn't make it okay to bully children" or "hey, maybe I should not base a character on the first stereotype that pops into my head.")

"But the rest of the worldbuilding!"

Sorry, but her worldbuilding is just as basic as her characters. Magical castles and secret passages are stock tropes. Magical people who keep their true nature secret from humanity is the premise of pretty much every White Wolf TTRPG. Most of her fantasy creatures are just common European fairy tale and folklore creatures with shitty stereotypes projected onto them.

I'm not saying "basic worldbuilding bad." I'm saying, you could do just as good, if not better, with minimal effort.

Also there's her magical bioessentialism, where only Harry's abusive blood relatives could provide him with supernatural protection from Voldemort. Rowling thus effectively declared that non-biological family isn't quite real family, and that abusive biofamily can give you some essential thing that a loving, supportive family that isn't related to you just can't.

The Hogwarts houses are one of the most insidious elements of her worldbuilding. The idea of being sorted gives you a little dopamine hit because wow now you have a li'l niche where you belong!

But the actual function of the houses and sorting system and the House Cup is teaching children to see each other as rivals, and ensure that the most toxic views of the upper class get passed on to every new batch of kids sorted into Slytherin.

Hogwarts effectively prepares children for a dystopia where magic serves to distract its citizens from how nightmarishly awful it is. Economic inequality is so bad that people like Arthur and Molly Weasley can barely afford to put their kids through school, casual sadism is just an accepted norm in everyday society, and non-humans are second class citizens. Rowling sorta acts like she thinks this is a bad thing with certain lines she gave to Dumbledore, but in the end, her special boy protagonist becomes an auror; IE, a defender of the status quo. So.

If you've never seen it, Lily Simpson's video goes into even more detail on how the worldbuilding of Harry Potter is actually incredibly fucked up, and how it betrays small-minded attitudes on Rowling's part. There's no separating the art from this artist, because Rowling's rotten values pour out of nearly every page.

Yes, there are many things in Harry Potter that evoke feelings and inspire people, but there's absolutely nothing in it that this series has a monopoly on. You can find those same experiences in much, much better media.

[ihavenointerestinreallife]

family relations | 18+ mdni

everyone knew that where fred went, george was right behind him; even if nobody could tell them apart half the time, two identical ginger boys always signaled trouble. 

when you showed up–someone with a stark difference in look to the two boys–it immediately raised an eyebrow. while not rare to see the two twins apart, it was a sight to see them accompanied by someone other than another member of their family, often at least. 

with the amount of nosy students at hogwarts it didn’t take long until someone got curious. 

“she’s just a part of the family,” george would say. 

“she’s like a sister to us, really,” fred would add not long after. 

— 

holidays with the weasley family were always chaotic to say the least. it seemed every year a new person stayed for christmas in the burrow, most notably in recent years harry and hermione joining their best friend ron–this year, the family home saw you as its new addition. 

the weasley family home had been filled to the brim since the birth of ginny, and the addition of companions only brightened it with more love. 

on christmas morning, everyone who didn’t own one already (or miraculously lost their original) received their first of molly’s many knitted sweaters, all personalized with their first initial. you’d never forget the first christmas you reunited with the twins wearing their own sweaters. 

��did mrs. weasley make those so she could remember which of you is which?” you asked. 

“mother says she could never forget who is who, which i guess is why i’m wearing his sweater, and he’s wearing mine,” fred would reply. 

when the day came for you to receive your own, the twins had visibly outgrown the jumpers you first saw them in, instead adorning new pairs to fit their growing builds. 

“molly, it’s beautiful! i dreamed of the day i’d get my own,” you said, running your fingers along the woollen fabric. 

“i’m glad you like it dear- and look, now you match freddie and georgie.” 

your head whipped in the direction of the two boys to confirm her words, and she was right. you matched fred and george from the overall blue color to the yellow letter. 

the way they looked at you then, you knew you could get used to matching sweaters. 

— 

you were purely friends with the twins up until your shared sixth year when they went to the yule ball with angelina johnson and katie bell. sure, the way they looked at you for the past year and a half had you questioning everything you felt for them. and sure, having them next to you at every given moment–closely, at that–made you think things friends wouldn’t dare say out loud- but this was a whole new level. 

molly had sent all the hogwarts attending weasley children outfits to wear to the ball; ginny a bright pink and mint gown, ron a very explicit hand me down likely of bill or percy’s, and the twins looked dashing in their matching suits. but you knew they could look even better, each hanging off one of your arms. 

instead you had the pleasure of watching both fred and george dance multiple rounds with their dates, while you sat next to harry and ron, also bummed out by how terrible the evening had gone. 

“they wanted to go with you, you know.” 

you jumped, turning your head to hermione who seemed to be itching to escape the crowd. 

“don’t be silly hermione, we’re just friends.” you muttered as you chewed on your lips, effectively removing them of any color you stained them with. “besides, you saw how eager they were when they asked angelina and katie in potions.” 

“or they were just trying to tease ron, you know how brothers are.” hermione looked at you with pity, as if there was someone she had hoped would ask her to the ball as well. 

the moment you decided to guess who she’d hoped would have asked her, your eyes scanned the crowd for either fred or george. it was futile for a second, until on either side of the floor you noticed both twins sneaking a glance back at you, both still occupied in dances with their dates. 

“hermione,” you began, tone laced with shyness despite how loud the music drowned your words out, “how would i know if my feelings surpassed friendly?” 

— 

it only took a day for feelings to be admitted by all three parties, only taking half of another for you to find yourself sandwiched in bed by both of the twins. robes had been discarded by the door, and you weren’t even sure you’d be able to find your scarf considering how long it had been gone. 

the boys sat knee to knee with you straddling both their laps, george to your front and fred to your back. they worked together to pull your hair off your neck, and then to unleash your tie from its collar, effectively exposing your bare skin to them. 

it didn’t feel real when the warmth of fred’s lips ghosted your skin, not even a semblance of it when they finally latched on. the amount of times you dreamt of them touching you intimately could not have prepared you for the feeling. 

“does it feel good when he kisses you like that?” george teased knowing you wouldn’t be able to catch your breath in time to reply. 

“yes georgie- fuck,” you moaned as fred bit down and sucked like a man tasked with marking you as his own. “freddie, people will see..” 

“let them love, they’d put the pieces together soon anyways.” he bit down again only a couple inches away from the first love bite, effectively securing the notion of nosy onlookers creating their own story to tell off. 

and tell off they would when every week new patches would show on your neck. the twins took turns marking you in places just indecent enough to turn heads, but not enough to solidify any real narrative about the three of you. 

a couple of weeks of people swearing they saw you snogging both twins at once in the gryffindor common room had at least one person becoming bold enough to ask you how you really felt about fred and george:

“they’re like my brothers, really.” 

— 

happy valentine’s day

[lqveharrington]

Never Planned | F.W.

summary: you and fred had been friends for so long that it never occurred to the both of you that everyone thought you were dating.

pairing: fred weasley x gryffindor!reader

includes: fluff, the both of you being mischievous, kissing, cursing, the two third years being wingmen when they don’t even know it

a/n: officially working on requests the second this gets posted!

You and Fred had the same routine every Sunday night after dinner. The routine was simple and familiar—so familiar that even the younger students knew it all too well. Every Sunday evening, you would typically read the Daily Prophet or do final touches to your essays while Fred would find a way to bother you until you finally gave into him and give him attention. That’s how Sunday nights would always go.

Except for tonight. For some reason, today felt off and neither of you could place a finger on it. The evening started off normal, but the longer you ignored it, the more the feeling intensified.

You were supposed to be working on your Charms essay, but all you could think about was the small feeling nagging at the back of your mind. You were so absorbed with the thought that you didn't realize you were biting the tip of you quill until Fred pulled your hand away from you, propping his feet up on your lap.

"What's with the face, Faucett? Need help with your Charms essay?" Fred asked, pouting dramatically when you snapped out of your trance and pushed his feet off your lap. "You hate me."

You scoff and roll up your parchment, placing it away on the side table. "I do not hate you, Fred."

“You do.” He teased and angled you to face him, pulling your legs to lay over his lap instead. He watched you rest your head against the cushions of the couch, making him tap your knee in concern. “What’s wrong?”

You huff and play with the threads of you sweater that Molly had made you this past Christmas, meeting his eyes that were filled with more emotion than you could place. “Nothings wrong with me, but it feels like something in this room is, you know?”

Fred looked over at the other people in the room. There were hardly any people in the Gryffindor Common Room on Sunday evenings. Everyone was out either making use of the last few hours of freedom they had before classes started the next day or in their dorms, trying to cram for any surprise quizzes.

The only people that were in the Common Room were a group of first years comparing notes, some fourth years playing exploding snap, and a pair of third years conversing quietly in a corner, tucked away from prying eyes and voices—such as Fred Weasley himself.

Fred raised a brow at the two boys who looked away quite quickly when they met the older boy's gaze. He turned back to you for a quick second, replying quietly to your previous comment. “Maybe…”

You crease your brows and look over at the pair of boys as well, “What—?”

“Oi!” Fred hollered at the two third years, making the entire room snap their heads over at the sudden boom of a voice. You blew a piece of hair away from your face in exasperation, giving the other students apologetic looks for the commotion.

“What are you blokes whispering about?” He called out, making the third year on the left burn bright red.

You poke Fred's arm when you saw the poor boy's face, not deterred by all his muscles underneath his own sweater. “Fred, stop bothering them."

The same boy looked away from you two, swallowing thickly while his friend pursed his lips in an effort to not laugh at the current situation. While the rest of the room went back to what they were doing, Fred continued to watch the pair, waiting for a response from either one of them.

Finally, after the two boys whispered back and forth—for Godric only knows how long—one of them spoke up, making the red-head beside you perk up instantly.

“Nothing important.” The teen on the right said for the sake of his friend, waving a dismissive hand in your general direction. “Just trying to figure out how to ask this girl out."

The second you both heard those words come out of the boy's mouth, you looked over at Fred who was already looking back at you with a grin that could only be described as smug.

You sighed, knowing you couldn't do much to stop whatever Fred planned on doing. “Freddie, don’t—“

He stood from his spot on the couch, hands placed on his hips like he suddenly knew the answers to everything in the universe. “Luckily, you’ve come to the right man—“

“—Boy—“ You quipped from his side as you followed him to ensure he wouldn't do or say anything stupid.

“Shut up.” Fred half-heartedly pushed you to the side, still catching you when you stumbled over your feet. He stuck his thumb in the other teen’s direction, “Anyway, who does he fancy?”

You roll your eyes at his antics and give them a warm, reassuring smile, hoping it would take their minds off whatever foolishness Fred has in plan. “First, what are your names?”

“I’m Oliver, and he’s James.” The boy on the right said tentatively, the one on the left—which you both now knew was James—nodding in agreement.

Fred clasped his hands together and nodded mindlessly, keeping his eyes trained on the boys. “Alright, I’m Fred and she’s the pain in my arse—“

“Can you focus?” You groan and shove him to the side, laughing loudly when he threw you over his shoulder to get you to stop interrupting—although the two of you knew it was hopeless.

“Oliver, who does James fancy?” Fred asked, ignoring your calls and protests.

You continued to wiggle yourself free from his grasp, huffing when he held onto you tighter. At that point, the rest of the Common Room gave you odd looks, making you flush a bright pink in slight embarrassment.

Oliver opened his mouth to speak, hesitantly as he stared at you and Fred in concern and confusion, unsure what to do in the situation. “Uhm… He fancies this girl in Hufflepuff named Lila—“

You gasped and hit Fred hard in between his shoulder blades, earning a groan as he dropped you from his arms. You spun around and gave James a soft look, knowing exactly who Lila was. You had tutored her last year in Potions—and based on your five minute interaction with James—the would be the perfect pair.

“She’s really bright and gifted in Herbology.” James says softly, making your heart ache at how he spoke about Lila in adoration.

“Have you tried to ask her out before?” You ask and watch him fidget with his hair.

He shakes his head, eyes darting away from your face toward the ground. “I’m too nervous.”

After recovering from you sudden attack, Fred clapped his hand on James’ back, ruffling his hair when the boy looked up at him. “Don’t be, you look handsome and clearly you’ve got the brains for it.”

In an instant, you saw an increase of confidence in the thirteen year old, making you grin at the sight. Maybe Fred being nosy in other students’ conversations wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

You watched for another second before murmuring something to Fred about finally finishing your Charms essay, giving the two boys one last smile. Before you left for the couch, Fred subconsciously pressed a kiss to the top of your head, knowing you were leaving even though he barely listened to you as he continued to speak to the younger students.

“Ask her out to a picnic by the lake or in one of the outdoor gardens—Not Hagrid’s, of course. That would be a nightmare.” Fred clarified with a small smirk decorating his face, leaning back on one of the armchairs behind him as the boys listened intently.

“Thanks, I’ll ask her tomorrow after class.” James replied with a new found determination in his voice.

Finally snapping out of his small trance, Oliver switched his gaze from Fred to your spot on the couch, tilting his head with a raised brow. “How did you ask your girlfriend out?”

Fred copied his facial expression, turning his head to follow the boy’s eye line when they landed on you. He poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue before clearing his throat, waving a dismissive hand in the air.

“Oh, we’re not dating.”

“Sure seems like it.” Oliver crossed his arms and raised both brows this time, judging Fred like he was a liar. “You can’t give out advice about dating without having a girlfriend yourself.”

“My advice is fool proof!” Fred blurted, almost baffled that a thirteen year old accused him of spreading false information—though he has done that multiple times before to everyone he knew

“Then how come you don’t have a girlfriend?”

Fred opened his mouth and shut it, putting his index finger up toward the boys before turning and walking over to you. He stood in front of you with his hands in his front pockets, waiting until you finished your thoughts on the essay before speaking.

“Did you know people think we’re dating?” He said quietly, earning a wide-eye look from you. Based on your reaction, you probably didn’t know either. “Yeah, weird. Those two boys thought we were dating.”

“That’s the weird feeling I was getting in this room.” You say as you twirl your golden charm necklace between your fingers, looking over at the two boys who suddenly looked guilty and mischievous at the same time. You raise a brow and look back at Fred with a small smirk, making him grin back.

“Can you imagine the shock on their faces if they believed it took you two seconds to land a girlfriend?”

Fred bent over by the waist, lips mere centimeters from yours. “And what do you have in mind, Faucett?”

Your smirk widens before you pull him in by the collar of his sweater, lips meeting his faster than anyone could have expected it. As if someone flipped a switch in Fred’s mind, he quickly reciprocated, hands coming up to cup the back of your neck and cheek.

For a second, the two of you were completely immersed in each other that you didn’t realize that—once more—the Gryffindor Common Room stared. This time, they stared only for a brief moment before looking away. It seemed like everyone expected it since the moment you both walked into the Common Room together on any Sunday evening.

You separate after the kiss that lasted longer than you both thought it would last, the two of you slightly out of breath, but still wearing eat-shitting grins at fooling the two third years in their small corner. Fred glanced at them from the corner of his eye, winking at Oliver specifically when he stared with a gaped mouth.

“That’ll be the best piece of advice they’ll ever get.” You laugh quietly as Fred plops down beside you, resting his chin on your shoulder and wrapping his arm around your abdomen, warm against your skin under the sweater. “You’re not going back to those two boys?”

“Nah, it’ll ruin the fun.” He drawled and looked up at you with his pretty brown eyes, pressing a lingering kiss to your shoulder unexpectedly. You looked down at him and raised a brow, waiting for an explanation from the one Weasley you liked a little more than the others.

“So, you? Me? Next weekend? Hogsmeade?” He asked with a confident smile, twirling a piece of your hair in between his index and thumb.

You bite back a smile and pat his cheek, his own smile never wavering. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, Weasley.”

“Is that a yes?” He questioned, looking between your eyes.

“You did this on purpose, didn’t you?” You say as you go back to finishing your essay, not caring for the blush that rose to your cheeks.

You and Fred have been friends since first year, but it never crossed your mind that you could ever be in the relationship everyone assumed you were in. Not until this year. It felt like you clung to every single word he spoke to you this time, and it felt so different.

All the pranks he would plan with Lee and George was always relayed to you, every gift he planned to give to his family members went through you—you were practically his without officially being his.

“I plan for many things, Faucett.” Fred moved to sit properly and dragged your legs back on top of his lap, messing with the embroidery on your jeans. “But I never planned on someone like you kissing me just to mess with two thirteen year olds.”

“You went along with it.” You clarify, knowing damn well that he also wanted to prank the two teens. Besides, it’s not like it was your first time kissing Fred. Not at all.

Your gaze meets his, “So what, you actually want to take me out on a date now?”

“Yep.” He continued to grin and trace the embroidery.

You carefully tuck away your Charms essay once more, continuing to hide the smile that came with the thought of going out with Fred Weasley. “I guess I’ll go on a date with you.”

Fred didn’t even know his grin could get bigger, but it did. He pulled you as close to him as he could, arms wrapped securely around your waist as he tilted his chin down to meet your eyes. “You say it like it’s a bad thing.”

“You are bad news.” You laugh and melt into him when he pressed a kiss to your forehead. You raised a brow at him, “Never planned huh?”

“Nope.” He popped his syllables with a smile so bright you swore the sun would shake in it’s presence. “Never planned.”

©lqveharrington - all rights reserved. do not copy, translate or share my work on other media platforms

[yasministration]

Dear diary - George Weasley x gf!reader, perv!Ron weasley

summary: Ron can't help his crush on his older brother's girlfriend, and catches himself in some inconvenient situations cw: SMUT, exhibitionism a little bit wc: 2.3k+

Ron was officially jealous of his older brother. Not that he hadn’t been before. George was the taller, funnier, more athletic version of himself, who was loved by everyone around him but the exceptional slytherins. But most importantly, George was loved by you. Despite you being two years older than Ron, in the same year group as the twins were, his delusions led him to believing that in some universe, he had a chance with you. It was never an option in his mind that you’d end up with one of his brothers. In fact, he’d never seen you speak to either of the twins until you’d strolled into the common room one day, hand in hand with the one and only George Weasley. 

Ron was a jealous man by nature, but seeing you with George made him resent his older brother. Whenever Ron smiled at you in the hallway before you’d started dating George, you’d always had the decency to at least acknowledge his presence, however now you were so preoccupied by cozying yourself into George’s side that you didn’t even avert your gaze from him. Ron watched as you led George onto the couch in front the fireplace, letting him sit down before sitting yourself right next to him and threw your legs over his lap. George snaked an arm around your waist, pulling you tighter against him, and you leaned your head on his chest, listening to the steady beating of his heart. George’s second hand came to rest on your exposed calf, caressing your leg up and down. Ron averted his gaze from his brother to you, and your cotton shorts that allowed Ron such a view of your legs.

Ron felt the couch dip down next to him, and he only removed his stare from your figure when he heard Hermione’s warning of “Don’t let any of your brothers catch you staring at her. If Fred finds out, then so does George, and if George finds out… Well.” Ron furrowed his eyebrows, mumbling “What do you mean?” but Hermione only gave him a knowing look.

As the months went on, Ron only hoped that you and George would finally break up, and that some months later you’d magically realise that he was the wrong brother for you, and that Ron had been waiting for you the entire time. George would have to get over it, Ron thought. However, to Ron’s horror, you and George had made it all the way to the summer, and after meeting his parents, Molly and Arthur had insisted you stay at the Burrow for a while over the holidays. Ron was dreading the two weeks you’d agreed on staying with them for, and had even complained to Ginny that the Burrow was too full, but she’d only snapped that it never seemed too full when his friends were staying over.

Ron was the first of his siblings to make it onto the platform when the Hogwarts Express arrived to the station. He made the most of the hugs and kisses his parents showered him with, sure that from the moment you’d walk off the train, all the attention would be on you. And Ron stood correct. Laughing along with Fred and George about something they’d said, Ron immediately noticed the arm George casually had around your waist, keeping you close to him as you carried your bags across the station to meet his parents.

Unsurprisingly, Molly had immediately started gushing over you, and had gone on about how lovely it was to see you again. You bathed in the flattering comments, returning the compliments to the woman, who encouraged you to head to the Burrow with George by apparition. Ron had scowled at her words, imagining what you’d do once you got home alone. Would you let George kiss you deeply, push you on the couch while he praised your body, or would you only let him peck your lips softly, asking him where to put your belongings. Ron had discovered that he was wrong on both accounts. You hadn’t done either of these things, instead leaving your luggage by the stairs, allowing George to lead you outside and show you nature’s glory all around the burrow.

Ron made it a point to avoid you throughout all your stay, Hermione’s words stuck in his head. What would George do if he found out about Ron’s crush on his girlfriend? No matter, he’d rather George think he disliked you than liked you. Besides, you had Ginny there to give you all the attention in the world, so happy to have another girl in the house that George often found himself trying to steal you back from her.

Ron sat in the living room while you helped Molly bake some goods in the open kitchen, letting the twins play a game of Quidditch in the yard. Ginny sat at the kitchen table, in charge of making entertaining conversation while you and Molly spoke about the recipe. Though at Ginny’s question “Are you and George going to get married?” Ron felt the energy in the entire room shift. His eyes glanced up from the sports magazine he read to see the look of shock on your face, eyes wide and jaw slack. Molly gasped, immediately scolding the young girl for her invasive question. “It’s fine Mrs. Weasley,” You reassured, adding “I don’t know Ginny, that’s kind of a loaded question.”

Your response was timed just right, because two seconds later, Fred and George came walking through the door, all sweaty from their match. You straightened your posture at the sight of your boyfriend, traveling the small distance of the kitchen so that George could easily whisk you away into a tight hug as soon as he walked into the kitchen. He used the grip on your body from his hug to spin you around, blocking you from his mother with his big back profile to dip his head down and give you a lengthy kiss. Ron, seated at just the right angle to have a perfect view of the kiss — and the cheeky squeeze George gave your ass — huffed in his chair, envy stirring inside him.

When the cookies you made were safely in the oven, you excused yourself upstairs, where George and his twin had retreated to shower. Knocking on the twins’s door, you were welcomed with a view of your shirtless boyfriend, aggressively drying his hair with a towel. George grinned at you, shutting the door behind you when you entered, and leading you to his bed. George hugged you close to his chest, pressing fluttering kisses on your forehead while Fred finished his shower. “I don’t think your younger brother likes me.” You mumbled, drawing shapes on George’s bare chest with your finger. “That ridiculous, sweetheart.” George answered, a laugh bubbling in his chest. You pulled away from him, an offended look on your face. “Baby, wait!” George laughed, tugging you back into him. “It’s ridiculous because Ron has the fattest crush on you. Read it in his diary.” 

The bathroom door opened, and Fred stepped out in a heap of steam from his hot shower. “Hey, don’t take credit for that!” Fred called out, imitating his brother's movement of ruffling his hair with a dry towel. “Right, excuse me. Fred read it in Ron’s diary, then brought me the diary, and then I read it in the diary.” You chuckled, pushing yourself up on the bed, looking back and forth between the two twins. “You promise?” You asked, watching as Fred nodded his head in reassurance. “What do you mean ‘you promise’? You want my brother to have a crush on you?” George asked with a frown. “Well I’d rather he have a crush on me than dislike me.” George scoffed, shaking his head. He unraveled his arms from around you, standing up and leaving the room momentarily. You blinked slowly and sat up straight on the bed, wondering if you’d upset him. “Don’t worry, he’s going to get the diary.” Fred said, turning his back from you to get dressed.

It was only seconds later that George came back, a scrappy red notebook in his hands. He spent a while flicking through the pages until he finally held a finger up, as if to silence you. “My most recent problem is that I have the fattest crush on my brother’s fucking girlfriend.” George started, and you covered your face with your hands, predicting the horror of what would come next. “She’s got a great smile, great legs. Honestly, everything about her is great. I just wish that she was sleeping with me instead of Mr. George fucking Weasley.” Your jaw went slack, and Fred giggled from where he stood, listening to George beginning to flick through the pages again. “So George’s girlfriend is staying with us over the summer break for a little while, which is going to be an absolute - uh what does that say?” Fred joined George to inspect the handwriting before they called out “Nightmare!” In synch.

“An absolute nightmare, because I’m going to be hard the entire time she’s there, but my only source of relief will be seeing her with my brother. I swear to godric, if I hear them have sex and she moans George’s name, I’m going to cry. Oh hey, I don’t remember reading that bit!” George added, putting a hand on his hip and humming apprehensively while he thought for a moment. You and Fred shot each other a look, and he grinned boyishly at you, commenting. “Well, I’ll make sure to leave you guys the room for a little bit.” You felt your cheeks heat up, eyes trained on George as he tossed the diary to the side, climbing back over you on the bed. George pushed your hair to the side, putting some of his weight on you as he started pressing kissed on your neck. “Yeah, and have him call us down for dinner, will you?” Your eyes widened in shock, letting George push you down on the bed as he continued his attack on your neck, barely acknowledging Fred, who finally walked out of the room, letting you have temporary privacy.

George pulled the blanket from under you, separating from you to pull his trousers off. Luckily for you, he hadn’t put on a shirt yet, and was making quick work of taking yours off. “Baby, isn’t this a little cruel?” You asked him, accepting the kisses he left on your lips, and arching your back so he could slide his hands underneath you, unclasping your bra. George nodded in agreement, tossing your bra so it landed by the door. “It’ll help him get over you.” He responded, tugging your trousers and underwear down your legs. “What, to see me naked?” George laughed, balancing himself over you as you helped him remove his boxers. “No one is going to be seeing you naked but me. What’s going to help him move on is to see me on top of you. And to hear you screaming my name.” He whispered against your lips before pecking them softly, feeling your hands trail up to grip his muscular biceps. “Yeah? You plan on making me scream?” George didn’t answer you this time, only bringing his fingers down to your clit, where he began making small circles. 

At your small gasp, he smiled, gripping his cock and bringing it towards your entrance. George spread your legs wider, making more space for himself between your thighs. In a few curt thrusts, he sheathed his cock inside you, biting his lip harshly and letting his head fall into the crook of your neck as he tried to adjust himself inside you, calming his breath down while listening to your little moans. “Shit, that was harsh, I’m sorry baby.” He apologised, cupping your cheeks and bringing you into a soft kiss. “Wasn’t harsh, feels good. Can you move?” The slow drag of George’s hips had your jaw going slack, head digging into the pillow behind you as your eyebrows furrowed. George grunted, abs constricting with pleasure with each snap of his hips against yours. Absentmindedly, George reached back to pull the blanket over his torso, covering your naked body from view. The sounds coming from your mouth however, were free for anyone to hear.

As George increased the power and speed of his thrusts, so did the volume and frequency of the sounds you made. You desperately gripped onto George’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin while a string of moans flowed out of you. The most recurring sound you made? His name. And that was the first thing Ron heard when he cracked the door open to come fetch you both for dinner.  Everyone was already outside, the dining table laid out under the night’s sky, but Ron was shooed away to call you down for dinner. Ron froze, hearing the high pitched cry of his brother’s name escape your mouth, back arching so your chest pushed against your boyfriend’s. Even worse, Ron could hear the sound of his brother’s hips driving into yours with every thrust, and the soft encouragements he told you. “That’s right, say my name baby.” He groaned into the crook of your neck. Ron loudly slammed the door shut, turning his back to it as he processed what he saw.

The slam of the door barely reached George’s ears with the way you screamed his name as you orgasmed, cunt clamping down on his cock so hard that he could only see white, whimpering your name in a manner he will deny ever happening. Your pussy milked George’s orgasm out of him, making him pant heavily against you, and you ran your fingers through his hair when you finally recovered from your own orgasm. When George also recovered, he slowly pulled out of you, pressing a loving kiss on your lips before slumping against you once more. You giggled teasingly, saying “All that for him not to even show up.” But your comment only backlashed humiliatingly when a George scoffed, saying “Oh no, he showed up alright.”

[midniqhtt]

golden trio era recs

masterlist • harry potter universe • 05/12/25

harry potter

𑣲 pretty boy I @msmk11

you love to make your boyfriend embarassed

𑣲 heaven help a fool who falls in love I @fushic0re

a meet cute brings you and the oblivious chosen one together.

𑣲 concussions and interruptions I @rainydayathogwarts

You aren't expecting to meet Harry's parents for the first time while you share an intimate moment in the hospital wing after he sustains another quidditch injury.

𑣲 summer lovin’ I @/rainydayathogwarts

you decide to visit harry over the summer, playing the classic 'girl next door' so harry's uncle lets you in.

𑣲 a motherly love I @/rainydayathogwarts

when harry sends you another owl claiming that professor snape has it out for him, you decide to pay them a short visit

𑣲 love, mum and dad I @/rainydayathogwarts

Harry gets the memory book you and James made for him to open on his 17th birthday, but he gets it a little sooner, and discovers things about the family he could have had.

𑣲 always the prefects bathroom I @/rainydayathogwarts

despite harry potter's presence in the prefects bathroom, you aren't stopped from taking a soothing bath

𑣲 do a flip! I @/rainydayathogwarts

harry tries to find out who your crush is, and you give him a negotiation: you'll tell him if he tells you his. you're confident he doesn't have one, having been dumped only three weeks ago. he proves you wrong.

𑣲 come play mermaids I @/rainydayathogwarts

harry potter is a distracting menace. but it's okay, because he's hot, and you just want to kiss him.

ron weasley

𑣲 i love you first I @/msmk11

Ron is used to feeling second.

𑣲 sewing kit I @/rainydayathogwarts

The instant Ron came to you asking for help sewing a rip in his t-shirt, Molly knew you were the woman he was going to marry.

𑣲 the chosen one I @/rainydayathogwarts

harry may be the chosen one, but he wasn't the one you chose.

george weasley

𑣲 dear diary I @/rainydayathogwarts

Ron can't help his crush on his older brother's girlfriend, and catches himself in some inconvenient situations

fred weasley

𑣲 metamorphosis I @desideriumwriter

Fred has been acting differently since he got hurt during the War. You're not sure how many more of his outbursts you can handle.

𑣲 a touch that never hurts I @mywhisperingwords

you seem to have fallen for your best friend, which you could handle if only he didn’t constantly touch you

cedric diggory

𑣲 no disturbances I @/rainydayathogwarts

𑣲 woes of a prefect I @wondernimbus

neville longbottom

𑣲 stranger to friends I @/rainydayathogwarts

moved harry and ron to this post*

[cowboylikemac]

MR.BRIGHTSIDE || F.W

pairing: fred weasley x reader

summary: A fiery rivalry with Fred Weasley turns into a secret romance filled with stolen kisses and hidden glances. When the truth comes out—first to Ron, then Molly—the fear fades, replaced by warmth, laughter, and the unexpected feeling of home.

warnings: none

word count: 5k

a/n: i am actually in love with this one bc i freaking love this song so why not romanticize it

The Gryffindor common room smelled of parchment, ink, and the faint char of someone’s failed spell. You leaned against the wall near the fireplace, arms crossed, your wand tucked into the sleeve of your robes. Fifth year was a pressure cooker—OWLs looming, Umbridge’s saccharine tyranny, and the constant buzz of Harry’s latest drama. But none of that was half as infuriating as Fred Weasley, who was currently sprawled across a couch, tossing a Fanged Frisbee in the air with that infuriating smirk plastered on his face.

“You’re going to take someone’s eye out, Weasley,” you snapped, dodging as the Frisbee whizzed past your head.

Fred caught it mid-air, his grin widening. “Only if they’re not paying attention, love. Which, clearly, you are. Always so… vigilant.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t call me that.”

“What? Love?” He sat up, all lean limbs and red hair catching the firelight. “Suits you. You’re so full of warm, fuzzy feelings.”

You scoffed, pushing off the wall to grab your Charms textbook from a nearby table. “Keep dreaming, Fred. I’d rather kiss a Blast-Ended Skrewt than deal with you for longer than I have to.”

George, lounging nearby with a copy of Quidditch Through the Ages, snorted. “Careful, Y/N. That’s practically a love letter coming from you.”

Ron, sitting at a table with a half-finished essay, groaned. “Can you two not start this again? I’m trying to focus.”

You shot Ron a sympathetic look. He was your closest friend in Gryffindor, the one who’d welcomed you into the fold back in first year when you’d been too stubborn to ask for help navigating the castle. You’d bonded over shared complaints about homework and his brothers’ endless pranks. But being Ron’s friend meant being in Fred’s orbit, and that was a problem.

Fred Weasley was chaos incarnate—brilliant, reckless, and infuriatingly charming when he wasn’t being a complete git. You’d been at each other’s throats since second year when he’d “accidentally” charmed your bag to spew chocolate syrup all over the Great Hall. He claimed it was meant for someone else. You didn’t buy it. Since then, it was a war of words, pranks, and glares across the common room.

“Focus on your essay, Ronald,” Fred said, tossing the Frisbee to George. “Y/N and I are just having a friendly chat.”

“Friendly?” you said, incredulous. “You charmed my quill to write backwards yesterday.”

“And you hexed my shoelaces to tie themselves together,” he shot back, eyes glinting. “Fair’s fair.”

You opened your mouth to retort, but Hermione, sitting across from Ron, slammed her book shut. “Enough! If I have to hear one more argument about who hexed who, I’m going to charm both your mouths shut.”

Fred winked at her. “You’re no fun, Granger.”

You rolled your eyes and stormed upstairs to the girls’ dormitory, your heart pounding with the familiar mix of irritation and something you refused to name. Fred Weasley was not worth your energy.

—

The Gryffindor common room was alive with music and laughter, a rare moment of rebellion against Umbridge’s suffocating rules. Someone had smuggled Firewhisky, and Lee Jordan had rigged a charmed gramophone to blast music loud enough to drown out the portraits’ complaints. The room pulsed with energy, students dancing and shouting, the air thick with the scent of butterbeer and something sweeter—freedom.

You stood near the drinks table, nursing a goblet of pumpkin juice, your robes swapped for a black sweater and jeans. Ron was beside you, ranting about Quidditch tryouts, his face flushed from a sip of Firewhisky he’d “accidentally” tried.

“You’re telling me Angelina’s making us run laps?” he groaned. “I’m not built for that.”

You laughed, nudging his shoulder. “You’ll survive. Just don’t trip over your own feet again.”

“Oi, that was one time!”

Your banter was interrupted by a loud whoop from the center of the room. Fred and George were demonstrating their latest invention—portable fireworks that spelled out rude words in midair. The crowd cheered as “UMBRIDGE IS A TOAD” fizzled out in sparks.

“Idiots,” you muttered, though a smile tugged at your lips.

Ron followed your gaze. “They’re mental, but you’ve got to admit, they’re clever.”

“Clever at causing trouble,” you said, but your eyes lingered on Fred. His hair was a mess, his sleeves rolled up, and the way he moved—confident, alive—made your stomach twist in a way you hated.

As if sensing your stare, Fred looked over, catching your eye. He smirked, raising his goblet in a mock toast. You scowled and turned back to Ron, who was now complaining about Snape.

But Fred wasn’t done with you. A few minutes later, he sauntered over, George trailing behind with a grin that promised mischief.

“Having fun, Y/N?” Fred asked, leaning against the table, too close for comfort.

“Was, until you showed up,” you shot back, crossing your arms.

George laughed. “You two are like a bad potions experiment—always exploding.”

“Only because she’s so volatile,” Fred said, his voice teasing but his eyes sharp, like he was studying you.

You bristled. “And you’re so insufferable.”

Ron groaned. “Merlin, just ignore each other for one night, yeah?”

Fred ignored him, stepping closer. “Come on, Y/N. Dance with me. Might loosen you up.”

You snorted. “I’d rather dance with a troll.”

“Harsh,” George said, clapping a hand to his chest. “Fred’s not that bad.”

But Fred’s grin didn’t falter. “One day, you’ll admit you like me.”

“In your dreams, Weasley,” you said, turning on your heel and heading toward the dance floor to escape him. The music shifted, a new song kicking in—a pulsing, electric beat that made your heart race. You didn’t know the name, but it felt like a storm, all jealousy and longing, the kind of song that made you want to scream and run and feel everything at once.

You danced with a few friends, letting the music drown out your thoughts. But Fred was never far, his laughter cutting through the crowd, his presence like a magnet you couldn’t shake. When you glanced back, he was dancing with Angelina, his hands on her waist, her head thrown back in laughter. Something hot and sharp twisted in your chest, and you hated it. Hated him. Hated yourself for caring.

—

Later, you found yourself back by the drinks table, catching your breath. The room was a blur of lights and bodies, the music still pounding. You were pouring yourself another drink when Fred appeared, alone this time, his face flushed from dancing.

“Still sulking?” he asked, grabbing a bottle of butterbeer.

“Still annoying?” you countered, not looking at him.

He chuckled, but there was an edge to it. “You’re jealous.”

You froze, your goblet halfway to your lips. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me.” He stepped closer, his voice low, teasing but with something sharper underneath. “You were glaring daggers when I was dancing with Angelina.”

Your face burned. “You’re delusional. I don’t care who you dance with.”

“Right,” he said, smirking. “That’s why you’ve been watching me all night.”

You slammed your goblet down, turning to face him. “You’re so full of yourself. I wasn’t watching you—I was making sure you didn’t set the room on fire with one of your stupid pranks.”

He raised an eyebrow, undeterred. “Sure. And I’m Merlin’s long-lost cousin.”

You were inches apart now, the air between you crackling with tension. The music shifted again, that same stormy song from earlier, its beat sinking into your bones. I’m coming out of my cage, and I’ve been doing just fine… The lyrics weren’t clear, but the feeling was—raw, desperate, like something breaking open.

“You’re insufferable,” you said, your voice shaking with something you couldn’t name.

“And you’re impossible,” he shot back, but his eyes flicked to your lips, and your breath caught.

The argument spiraled, as it always did, a flurry of insults and jabs. But then he said something that stopped you cold.

“You act like you’ve got it all figured out, Y/N, but you’re all talk. Bet you’ve never even—” He cut himself off, his eyes narrowing as if he’d just realized something. “Wait. Have you never been kissed before?”

Your face went scarlet. You had been kissed—once, in third year, a clumsy, awkward thing that left you embarrassed and the boy in question avoiding you for weeks. It wasn’t something you advertised, but it wasn’t nothing. Still, Fred’s words hit a nerve, and you hated how exposed you felt.

“That’s none of your business,” you snapped, turning to leave.

But he grabbed your wrist, gently, pulling you back. “Hang on. I didn’t mean—Merlin, Y/N, I was just taking the piss. But… really?”

You yanked your wrist free, glaring. “I’ve been kissed, Weasley. Not that you’d know what a good one feels like.”

His smirk returned, but there was something softer in his eyes. “Is that a challenge?”

Your heart stuttered. The music pulsed, the crowd a distant blur. He was too close, his voice too low, his gaze too intense. “You wouldn’t dare,” you said, but it came out weaker than you meant.

“Wouldn’t I?” he murmured, stepping closer. And then, before you could process it, his hand was on your cheek, his lips brushing yours—soft at first, tentative, then deeper, like he was pouring every unspoken word into it. It wasn’t your first kiss, but it was the first that mattered. The first that felt like fire, like magic, like him.

When he pulled back, you were breathless, your mind a mess. The song was still playing, its jealous edge mirroring the chaos in your chest. Fred looked as stunned as you felt, his eyes wide, his usual bravado gone.

“Bloody hell,” he whispered. “That was…”

“Don’t,” you said, stepping back, your voice shaky. “This doesn’t change anything.”

But it did. And you both knew it.

—

The next week was torture. You avoided Fred, but every time you saw him—across the Great Hall, in the common room, joking with George—your heart did that stupid flip. He didn’t push, didn’t tease, just watched you with a look that made your skin burn.

One night, after a particularly brutal DADA lesson with Umbridge, you found him in an empty corridor, testing a new prank product. He looked up, and before you could bolt, he said, “We need to talk.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” you said, crossing your arms.

“Bullshit.” He stepped closer, his voice low. “You felt it too. Don’t pretend you didn’t.”

You wanted to deny it, to throw it back in his face, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you kissed him again, hard and desperate, and he kissed you back like he’d been waiting for it his whole life.

It was a secret after that—stolen moments in empty classrooms, hushed arguments that turned into kisses, your heart a tangle of fear and want. You didn’t tell Ron, couldn’t bear the thought of him finding out. He’d never understand why you, of all people, fell for his brother.

But secrets don’t stay hidden at Hogwarts. One night, Ron caught you and Fred in the common room, too close, too obvious. His face went from confusion to betrayal in seconds.

“What the hell is this?” he demanded, his voice shaking.

You froze, Fred’s hand still on your arm. “Ron, I—”

“You’re with him?” Ron’s eyes darted to Fred, then back to you. “After all the crap you’ve said about him?”

Fred stepped forward. “Mate, listen—”

“Don’t,” Ron snapped, storming out.

You stood there, heart pounding, the music from that night echoing in your mind. Fred squeezed your hand. “We’ll figure it out,” he said softly.

But as you watched Ron disappear, you weren’t so sure.

—

The Gryffindor common room was quiet, save for the crackle of the dying fire and the distant howl of wind against the castle walls. It was late—too late for anyone to be up, but you couldn’t sleep. Not after Ron had seen you and Fred, his face twisting from confusion to something raw and betrayed. You sat on the edge of a worn armchair, staring at the embers, your heart a tangled knot of guilt and defiance.

Fred was beside you, uncharacteristically still, his usual swagger replaced by a tense silence. He’d tried to follow Ron after the outburst, but you’d stopped him. This was your mess to fix—Ron was your friend, and you owed him an explanation. But what could you say? That the one person you swore you hated had somehow become the one you couldn’t stop thinking about? That every argument, every glare, had been hiding something you were too stubborn to admit?

The portrait hole swung open, and Ron stormed in, his face still flushed, his eyes blazing. He stopped short when he saw you and Fred, his gaze flicking between you like he was trying to solve a puzzle that made no sense.

“Ron,” you started, standing up, but he cut you off.

“Don’t,” he snapped, his voice low but sharp enough to cut. “Just… don’t. How long has this been going on?” His eyes locked on yours, and the hurt in them made your chest ache.

You opened your mouth, but the words stuck. Fred stepped forward, his hand brushing yours as if to steady you. “A few weeks,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “It wasn’t planned, mate. It just… happened.”

Ron laughed, a bitter sound that didn’t suit him. “Happened? You’re my brother, Fred, and you—” He turned to you, his expression softening just a fraction, but the anger was still there. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. You hated him. You told me a hundred times how much you couldn’t stand him. And now you’re—what? Sneaking around behind my back?”

Your face burned, the weight of his words sinking in. You were stubborn, independent, the girl who didn’t need anyone’s approval—but Ron’s disappointment hit harder than you expected. “I didn’t mean to lie,” you said, your voice quieter than you wanted. “I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t even know what this was until it was too late.”

Ron ran a hand through his hair, pacing a few steps. “Too late? Merlin, Y/N, you could’ve told me. Instead, I find out by walking in on you two—” He gestured vaguely, his face twisting like he couldn’t even say it. “What am I supposed to do with that?”

Fred’s jaw tightened. “Ron, listen. I know you’re pissed, but this isn’t about you. It’s about us.” He glanced at you, and for a moment, the firelight caught the softness in his eyes, the kind he only showed when no one else was looking.

Ron stopped pacing, his shoulders slumping. “That’s the problem, isn’t it? It’s you, Fred. You’re my brother, and you’re… you. You prank people, you break rules, you leave a trail of chaos everywhere you go. And she—” He pointed at you, his voice breaking. “She’s too good for that. She deserves better.”

The words stung, not because they were true, but because they echoed the doubts you’d been fighting since that night at the party. Fred was chaos, a wildfire you couldn’t control. But he was also the only one who saw through your walls, who matched your stubbornness with his own, who made you feel alive in a way you hadn’t before.

Fred’s hand clenched into a fist, but his voice stayed steady. “You think I don’t know that? You think I haven’t spent every day wondering why the hell she’d even look at me?” He stepped closer to Ron, his height making him seem older, more serious. “But I’m not playing her, Ron. This isn’t a game.”

Ron stared at him, then at you, his eyes searching for something—reassurance, maybe, or proof that this wasn’t a mistake. You wanted to give it to him, but your own heart was a mess of fear and want, and all you could do was stand there, caught between the two brothers.

“I need time,” Ron said finally, his voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t… I can’t deal with this right now.” He turned and headed for the boys’ dormitory, the portrait hole swinging shut behind him.

You sank back into the armchair, your hands covering your face. Fred sat on the armrest, close but not touching, like he wasn’t sure if you wanted him to. “He’ll come around,” he said, but he didn’t sound convinced.

You looked up at him, your throat tight. “What if he doesn’t? He’s my best friend, Fred. I can’t lose him.”

Fred’s eyes softened, and he reached out, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. “You won’t. Ron’s stubborn, but he’s not stupid. He just needs to get over the shock of his best mate snogging his brother.”

You laughed despite yourself, the sound shaky. “You’re awful.”

“And you’re stuck with me,” he said, his grin returning, though it was softer, almost hesitant. “Unless you’ve changed your mind.”

You met his gaze, the memory of that first kiss flooding back—the music, the heat, the way it felt like the world had tilted. “I haven’t,” you said, and the words felt like a confession.

He leaned down, kissing you softly, and for a moment, the world was just the two of you, the fire’s warmth, and the quiet promise of something real.

—

The next few weeks were a tightrope. Ron barely spoke to you, his silences heavy with unspoken hurt. You threw yourself into DA meetings, channeling your frustration into spells and strategy, but every time you saw Ron across the room, wand raised, his jaw set, guilt twisted in your gut. Fred, meanwhile, was a constant—slipping you notes in the common room, stealing kisses in the shadows of the library, his presence a reminder that you’d chosen this, chosen him.

The breaking point came during a DA meeting in the Room of Requirement. Umbridge’s decrees had tightened, and the group was practicing defensive spells, the air thick with tension and the unspoken fear of what was coming. You were paired with Ron, casting Protego against his Stunning Spells, but his aim was sloppy, his focus elsewhere.

“Ron, come on,” you said, lowering your wand. “You’re not even trying.”

He glared at you, his wand still raised. “Maybe I don’t feel like helping you and Fred play happy couple.”

The room went quiet, heads turning. Harry, standing nearby, raised an eyebrow but stayed out of it. You felt Fred’s presence across the room, his eyes on you, but you kept your focus on Ron. Fred gave everyone in the room a look reminding them to mind their own business.

“That’s not fair,” you said, your voice low but firm. “You’re mad, I get it. But shutting me out isn’t going to fix anything.”

Ron’s face reddened. “You lied to me, Y/N. You and Fred, sneaking around like I’m some idiot who wouldn’t notice. How am I supposed to trust you?”

Your temper flared, but you forced it down. “I didn’t lie. I just… I didn’t know how to tell you. I didn’t even know what I felt until it was too much to ignore.” You stepped closer, your voice softening. “You’re my best friend, Ron. I’d never hurt you on purpose.”

He looked away, his jaw tight, but you could see the fight draining out of him. “It’s just… weird. You and Fred. He’s my brother, and you’re… you. I thought you hated him.”

“I did,” you admitted, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Or I thought I did. Turns out, he’s not so awful.”

Fred, who’d been pretending not to listen, snorted from across the room. “High praise, love.”

You shot him a glare, but there was no heat in it. Ron looked between you, his expression softening, though he still looked like he’d swallowed a sour Bertie Bott’s bean.

“I just don’t want you to get hurt,” he said finally, his voice low. “Fred’s… Fred. He’s not exactly known for being serious.”

Fred walked over, his usual grin replaced by something steadier. “I’m serious about her,” he said, his eyes on Ron. “And I’m not going anywhere.”

Ron studied him, then you, and something shifted in his gaze-acceptance, maybe, or at least the start of it. “Fine,” he said, exhaling sharply. “But if you break her heart, I’ll hex you into next week. Brother or not.”

Fred’s grin returned, full force. “Deal.”

—

The resolution wasn’t instant. Ron was awkward for days, his conversations with you stilted, but he stopped avoiding you. You caught him watching you and Fred sometimes, his expression a mix of curiosity and resignation, but he didn’t pull away again.

The real turning point came during a chaotic night in the Great Hall. Umbridge’s Inquisitorial Squad had raided a DA meeting, and you, Fred, and Ron ended up in detention together, scrubbing cauldrons under Filch’s gleeful supervision. Fred, predictably, turned it into a game, flicking soap suds at you when Filch wasn’t looking. You retaliated, splashing him with water, and soon you were both laughing, your hands brushing as you reached for the same sponge.

Ron groaned, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “You two are disgusting.”

You froze, expecting another argument, but Fred just grinned. “Jealous, Ronniekins?”

Ron rolled his eyes, but he flicked a sud at Fred, and for the first time in weeks, the three of you were laughing together, the tension melting into something warmer, something familiar.

Later, as you walked back to the common room, Fred’s hand in yours, Ron fell into step beside you. “You’re still a git,” he said to Fred, but his tone was lighter.

“And you’re still a prat,” Fred shot back, but he squeezed your hand, his eyes warm.

Ron glanced at you, his expression softening. “You’re happy, yeah?”

You nodded, your throat tight. “Yeah. Really happy.”

He sighed, shoving his hands in his pockets. “Then I guess I’ll live with it.”

—

The Burrow was a riot of warmth and chaos, its crooked walls humming with the energy of summer. The kitchen smelled of fresh bread and lavender, the garden buzzed with gnomes scurrying through the overgrown grass, and every room seemed to creak with the weight of Weasley family life. You’d been invited to spend two weeks here before sixth year, a gesture from Ron to mend the lingering awkwardness between you after he’d caught you and Fred together. But now, standing in the cluttered living room with your trunk at your feet, you realized this was going to be harder than you thought.

Keeping your relationship with Fred a secret from Molly Weasley was like trying to hide a Firework from Filch. She had a sixth sense for mischief, and you and Fred were walking a dangerous line. The plan was simple: act normal, no touching, no lingering looks, and definitely no sneaking off. Ron had made it clear he wasn’t going to cover for you if his mum got suspicious. “I’m not lying to her,” he’d muttered on the train ride home. “She’ll have my head.”

You glanced at Fred across the room, where he was helping George levitate a stack of old Quidditch Weekly magazines to clear space. His sleeves were rolled up, his hair a mess of red catching the sunlight streaming through the window, and when he caught your eye, he winked. Your stomach flipped, and you quickly looked away, your cheeks burning. Merlin, this is going to be impossible.

Molly bustled in, her apron dusted with flour, her wand tucked behind her ear. “Y/N, dear, you’re in Ginny’s room with Hermione,” she said, her voice warm but firm. “Boys, you’re all upstairs. No funny business, mind you.” Her eyes lingered on Fred and George, who both put on their most innocent expressions.

“No funny business here, Mum,” Fred said, his grin too wide to be trusted.

You bit your lip to keep from laughing, grabbing your trunk and heading for the stairs. Ron followed, carrying Hermione’s bag, his ears red as he avoided your gaze. “This is a terrible idea,” he muttered under his breath.

“Relax,” you whispered back, though your heart was racing. “We’ve got this.”

But you didn’t. Not really.

—

The first few days were a masterclass in restraint. You and Fred were careful—too careful. You sat at opposite ends of the dinner table, where Molly piled plates high with roast potatoes and shepherd’s pie. You avoided brushing shoulders in the narrow hallways. When Fred passed you the butterbeer during a game of Exploding Snap in the garden, his fingers lingered a fraction too long, and you yanked your hand back like you’d been burned. Ron noticed, rolling his eyes, but Molly was too busy scolding George for charming the cutlery to dance to see.

At night, though, the Burrow’s creaky floors and thin walls made secrecy a nightmare. You’d lie awake in Ginny’s room, Hermione’s soft snores beside you, and hear Fred’s laugh from upstairs, low and warm, carrying through the house. It was torture, knowing he was so close but untouchable. The memory of that party kiss—the heat of his lips—kept you restless, your heart a mix of longing and fear. What if Molly found out? Would she send you home? Lock Fred in his room until school started back?

On the fourth night, you couldn’t take it anymore. You slipped out of bed, tiptoeing down the hall to the kitchen for a glass of water—or so you told yourself. The house was dark, the only light coming from the moon spilling through the windows. You froze when you heard a floorboard creak behind you.

“Couldn’t sleep either?” Fred’s voice was low, teasing, but there was something softer in it, like he’d been waiting for this.

You turned, your breath catching. He was leaning against the doorway, wearing a faded Weird Sisters T-shirt and pajama bottoms, his hair sticking up at odd angles. The moonlight made his eyes glint, and for a moment, you forgot how to speak.

“Keep your voice down,” you hissed, but your heart wasn’t in it. “If your mum catches us—”

“She’s snoring loud enough to wake a dragon,” he said, stepping closer. “We’re safe.”

You raised an eyebrow, crossing your arms. “Safe? You’re about as safe as a Blast-Ended Skrewt.”

He grinned, closing the distance between you. “And yet, here you are.”

Before you could retort, he kissed you—soft at first, then deeper, his hands finding your waist. It was reckless, standing in the middle of the Weasley kitchen where anyone could walk in, but you melted into him, the world narrowing to his warmth, his heartbeat, the faint taste of peppermint on his lips.

A loud creak from upstairs made you both jump apart, your heart pounding. You held your breath, listening, but no one came. Fred chuckled softly, his forehead resting against yours. “Close call.”

“You’re going to get us caught,” you whispered, but you couldn’t stop smiling.

“Worth it,” he murmured, stealing one more quick kiss before stepping back. “Go to bed, love. Before I do something really stupid.”

You rolled your eyes but headed back to Ginny’s room, your pulse still racing. The Burrow felt alive with secrets, and you were starting to think you’d never survive two weeks.

—

It happened on the seventh day, during a chaotic Weasley family Quidditch match in the orchard. The sky was a brilliant blue, the air thick with summer heat and the shouts of Ron, Ginny, and George as they zoomed around on brooms. You were on the ground, ostensibly keeping score with Hermione, but mostly watching Fred. He was a blur of red hair and laughter, dodging Bludgers with effortless grace, his grin infectious as he taunted Ron mid-air.

“Nice dive, Ronniekins!” he shouted as Ron fumbled a catch. “Maybe try using your hands next time!”

You laughed, and Fred’s eyes flicked to you, his smile softening for just a second. It was a mistake. Molly, who’d been setting up a picnic table nearby, caught the look. You saw her pause, her hands stilling on the tablecloth, her eyes narrowing as they darted between you and Fred.

Your stomach dropped. “Hermione,” you whispered, nudging her. “She’s onto us.”

Hermione glanced over, her expression a mix of sympathy and alarm. “Oh no. Just… act normal.”

But normal was impossible when Fred landed a few minutes later, sweaty and grinning, and tossed you a water bottle. “Stay hydrated, love,” he said, the word slipping out before he could stop it.

Molly’s head snapped up like a hawk spotting prey. “Fred Gideon Weasley,” she said, her voice dangerously calm. “What did you just call her?”

The orchard went quiet. Ron, still hovering on his broom, looked like he wanted to sink into the ground. George snorted, clearly enjoying the chaos. You felt your face heat up, your stubborn streak urging you to stand your ground, but your heart was pounding.

Fred, to his credit, didn’t flinch. “I called her love,” he said, meeting his mother’s gaze. “Because that’s what she is.”

You wanted to throttle him for being so bold, but your heart did a stupid flip at his words. Molly’s eyes widened, then flicked to you, her expression a mix of shock and something softer—concern, maybe, or realization.

“Y/N, dear,” she said, her voice softening but still firm. “Is this true?”

You swallowed, your independence warring with the urge to hide. But Fred’s hand brushed yours, a quiet anchor, and you found your voice. “Yeah,” you said, lifting your chin. “It’s true.”

Ron landed with a thud, muttering, “Here we go.”

Molly’s mouth opened, then closed. She looked at Fred, then you, then back at Fred, her hands on her hips. “And you thought you could keep this from me? In my own house?”

“We weren’t sure how you’d take it,” you said, your voice steady despite the nerves. “Didn’t want to make things weird.”

“Weird?” Molly’s voice rose, but there was a hint of a smile tugging at her lips. “You’re sneaking around under my roof, and you think that’s not weird?” She sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Merlin’s beard, you two. I raised seven children—I know when something’s going on.”

Fred grinned, undeterred. “So you’re not mad?”

“Oh, I’m mad,” Molly said, pointing a finger at him. “Mad you didn’t tell me! And you—” She turned to you, her expression softening. “Y/N, you’re practically family already, but you’re still a guest in my home. I expect honesty. And no sneaking off to the broom shed, understand?”

Your face burned, but you nodded. “Yes, Mrs. Weasley.”

She huffed, then pulled you into a sudden, bone-crushing hug. “Oh, come here. If you’re going to be with my Fred, you’d better get used to this.”

Fred laughed, but there was relief in his eyes as he met yours over his mother’s shoulder. Ron, still hovering nearby, groaned. “Can we go back to Quidditch now? This is too much.”

George zoomed down, clapping Fred on the back. “Told you she’d figure it out. Mum’s got eyes like a Niffler.”

The rest of the day was a blur of Molly’s overbearing warmth—she insisted on setting an extra place for you at the table, as if you were officially part of the family now—and Fred’s teasing, his hand finding yours under the table when no one was looking. The Burrow’s chaos wrapped around you like a warm blanket, and as you sat in the garden that night, Fred’s arm around you, Ron bickering with George, and Molly’s laughter drifting from the kitchen, you realized you’d found something you hadn’t known you were looking for.

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[mssorceressupreme]

Take Care of You | F.W

———

Pairing: Fred Weasley x reader

Summary: you wake up realising you’ve stained your boyfriend’s bed with period blood, and you feel terrible. later, while playing a friendly quidditch game, you get deadly cramps again and fred takes care of you for the rest of the day.

Warnings/content: reader gets her period, mentions of blood, pimples (lmao), insecure!reader, period cramps, fluff, fred weasley is THE standard :,), molly and arthur being the sweetest gems

———

The Burrow was quiet in the early morning, the golden glow of the sun barely peeking through the curtains of Fred's bedroom. The soft rise and fall of his breathing filled the room, his arms wrapped securely around you as you lay nestled against him. His warmth, his scent—fresh, like cinnamon and a hint of something mischievously sweet—made you want to stay here forever.

However, during this particular morning, something felt...off.

You shifted slightly, your brows knitting as you became aware of a slight discomfort in your lower abdomen. Your face scrunched up in confusion, and as you moved your hand to touch your face, you felt a few bumps along your skin—pimples, no doubt. Great. Just what you needed.

Then, you felt it. The damp warmth between your legs. A sinking feeling settled in your stomach. Panic shot through you as you carefully lifted the covers, heart pounding as you caught sight of the undeniable red stain on Fred’s bedsheets.

Oh no.

Your breath hitched, eyes widening in sheer mortification. Not only had you woken up to pimples, but you had gotten your period in your boyfriend’s bed.

Your boyfriend’s bed. Sure, if it was your own bed, you didn't mind, as it would be your problem to deal with. This, however, was an entirely different case. Godric, you wanted to hide, to run away, to retreat into your shell.

The urge to disappear entirely took over as your face burned with embarrassment. What were you supposed to do? Wake him up and tell him you’d basically bled all over his sheets? You felt a lump in your throat and your vision became teary. Especially with pimples all over your face now, what would Fred think? Would he get grossed out, horrified, disgusted?

Maybe if you were really quiet, you could sneak out and fix it before he even noticed—

Time seemed to slip from your hands when all the shifting you did stirred Fred from his sleep. Shit, it was too late to move.

He groaned softly before his arms instinctively tightened around your waist, pulling you back against him with a lazy smile.

“Morning, gorgeous,” he mumbled, voice thick with sleep. He pressed a sleepy kiss to your cheek before pausing, sensing the tension in your body. His brows furrowed, and he blinked, still groggy. “You alright, darling? You seem a little tense.”

You buried your face in your hands, groaning. “Fred, I—” Your voice was small, laced with hesitation. You inhaled deeply before revealing your dilemma, “I got my period.”

Fred blinked, confused for a second, before his lips curled into a small, lopsided smile. “Alright, love, no need to sound so distressed about it.”

You groaned again, this time with frustration. “No, you don’t understand,” you mumbled. “I stained your bed.”

With a deep breath, you lifted up the duvet and hesitantly pointed at the small red patch on the sheets. You felt your heart hammering in your chest as you dared to glance at his face, bracing yourself for—well, you didn’t know what exactly. Disgust? Annoyance? Irritation? But instead, all you found was Fred sitting up, stretching before looking at the stain with mild curiosity, then back at you with a soft chuckle.

“Is that all?” he said, completely unfazed. “Thought you were gonna tell me you’d hexed my eyebrows off in my sleep or something.”

You stared at him, dumbfounded. “Fred, I just bled on your bed,” you repeated, incredulous. “How are you this calm?”

"I just got my period...and I'm breaking out all over my face, I feel like a mess right now, I—" You continued rambling, all your worries spilling out at once.

He rolled his eyes fondly and pulled you into a warm hug, his chin resting on the top of your head. “Shh, shh, shh, it’s okay, love,” he murmured, rubbing soothing circles on your back. “It’s normal, yeah? Not like you did it on purpose.” He pulled back slightly, his hands gently cupping your face. “My poor baby, let me take care of you.”

Your heart melted at his words, but you still couldn’t shake off the embarrassment. “But your sheets—”

“Easily cleaned,” he interrupted, waving a hand like it was nothing. “Mum’s got stain removers, no big deal. What is a big deal, though, is that you’re clearly not feeling great.” His hands dropped to your waist, tugging you close again. “And my girl needs to be taken care of.”

You opened your mouth to protest, but before you could, Fred was already hopping out of bed. “I’ll be right back,” he said, tossing on a shirt. “You go to the bathroom, get cleaned up. I’ll sort everything else out.”

Still in a daze from his reaction, you hesitated before nodding. You slipped into the bathroom, heart still pounding as you peeled off your clothes, carefully cleaning yourself up. A few moments later, there was a soft knock at the door.

“Here, I’ve got some pads for you,” Fred called from the other side.

You cracked open the door, peeking out to see him holding a small stack of pads in his hands, a sheepish yet triumphant grin on his face.

“Ginny might have thrown something at me when I woke her up to ask, but worth it,” he teased, handing them to you.

You laughed, shaking your head. “Thank you, handsome.”

“For a pretty girl like you, anytime.” He kissed your forehead gently before stepping back. “Take all the time you need, I’ll be waiting for you.”

Once you were done, you returned to Fred’s room to find the bed already spotless, the stain completely gone. He grinned when he saw you. “Told you I’d sort it.”

You launched yourself at him, hugging him tightly. “Ugh Fred, you’re too good at this.”

“I know,” he said smugly, earning a light smack on the arm. He chuckled before pressing another soft kiss to your forehead. “Now, let’s get some breakfast in you, yeah?” There was something comforting about his kisses, every time he planted one on you, it felt as though everything was going to be alright.

Downstairs, the Burrow was already lively with chatter. Molly beamed as she hugged you good morning before returning to cooking, and Arthur greeted you warmly.

"Ah come join us, you lovebirds." Arthur teased, Fred's ears turning a light shade of red in response.

"What took you guys so long today? Busy eh?" Ron teased, wiggling his brows before taking a bite of his toast.

"Shove off, what's the point in rushing downstairs? Not like we've got somewhere to be." Fred retorted, a bit more harshly than he had intended.

Ginny shot you two a knowing look, giving you a sympathetic smile, "You won't understand the pressures of being a woman Ron, takes a lot to look this good every day." She joked, though laced with a comforting undertone, indirectly defending you. You tilted your head and smiled warmly at her, a way of showing gratitude.

"Come Y/N dear, you must be starving." Molly placed two eggs on your plate next to your toast, "Percy, pass her the butter will you."

"This looks delicious, thank you Molly!" You beamed, her food was always made with love; a mother's love, and that's what made it extra tasty.

Though you smiled, and occasionally shared quips with the others, only Fred was able to see right through you. He kept sneaking glances, his hand resting on your thigh under the table, stroking it gently.

You turned to give him a reassuring smile, but he still worried for you, wanting to ensure you felt better.

___

Later that afternoon, you and the Weasleys were playing a toned-down version of Quidditch outside the Burrow.

The sky was clear as day, the air crisp with a cool breeze occasionally blowing your hair, and laughter filled the open field as Ron, Fred, and Ginny zoomed around on their brooms, chucking the Quaffle back and forth.

Meanwhile, you, Percy, and George remained on the ground, running, dodging, and attempting to intercept the ball whenever it came your way.

At first, you kept up, laughing as George nudged you playfully and you pretended to dramatically fall or trip, making him burst into laughter.

"Woah, when did you get so strong?" Sarcasm lingered in your tone.

"Puh-lease, this is like twenty-percent of my strength. You're lucky I'm going on easy on ya." George ruffled your hair messily, it was safe to say the two of you definitely had a sibling-like relationship.

Though as the game went on, you started to slow down. The cramps you’d been trying to ignore all day crept in with full force, sharp and unbearable.

It felt like your insides were twisting, a deep ache radiating through your stomach and back, growing stronger by the minute. You bit your lip, pressing a hand to your abdomen, willing the pain away. But it was no use.

After a few more steps, you stopped completely, crouching down with a sharp inhale.

Fred, who had been mid-air, immediately noticed. He veered off from the game and swooped down toward you, concern flickering across his face. "Love? What's wrong?" he asked, his voice softer now as he handed his broom off to George, who had also stopped running and looked at you with concern.

“You alright, Y/N?” George asked, his usual teasing tone replaced with genuine worry.

You tried to wave them off, not wanting to make a fuss, but Fred wasn’t having it. He crouched beside you, his large hands gently resting on your arms as he searched your face.

"Cramps," you admitted in a whisper, wincing slightly.

Fred was up in an instant. "Alright, that’s it. You're going inside." He stood, helping you up carefully, his arm wrapping around your waist protectively. George gave you an encouraging nod before returning to the game, and as you and Fred walked toward the Burrow, you leaned into him, grateful for his warmth and steady presence.

As soon as you stepped inside, Molly turned from the stove, immediately noticing your pale face and Fred’s worried expression. "What’s wrong, dear?" she asked, wiping her hands on her apron as she approached.

“Cramps,” Fred answered before you could, his voice carrying that soft, caring edge that made your heart ache in the best way.

“Oh, sweetheart," Molly cooed. "You sit down and rest. I’ll whip up some soup and a cramp relief potion right away.”

"Thank you, Molly," you said softly, feeling a rush of gratitude for the warmth and kindness of the Weasley family.

You always secretly hoped you'd marry into the family one day, but you didn't want to admit that aloud, or pressure Fred into such things yet.

Fred led you upstairs to his room, insisting you lay down. "Rest up, yeah? I’ll be back in a bit," he murmured, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slipping out of the room.

A little while later, the door creaked open again, and Fred returned, carrying a small basket filled with chocolates, a heating pad, some of your favourite snacks, and—to your surprise—a teddy bear.

You blinked at it, smiling despite your discomfort. “A teddy?”

Fred set the basket down, and held the bear up, making its little arm wave at you. "To cuddle with."

You giggled, looking at him with awe. “Come here. I’d rather cuddle with you, baby."

He grinned before climbing into bed next to you, immediately wrapping you in his buff arms. His embrace, his scent—everything about him was comforting, you could only melt right into him.

He pressed a soft kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly to face you. But after a moment, you grew shy, burying your face in his chest.

“Don’t look at me,” you mumbled, insecurity creeping in. “I don’t feel pretty right now.”

Fred’s brows furrowed, and he cupped your cheek, tilting your face back up to him. "Don’t you ever say that," he murmured, his gaze filled with so much love it made your heartache.

"You’re perfect. You’re gorgeous. These little things, flaws you might call them—they don’t matter. If anything, they make you even more beautiful. To me, you always look good, angel."

Tears welled in your eyes at his words, and you let out a shaky breath. “I love you, Freddie.”

His expression softened even more, his thumb brushing against your cheek. “I love you too.”

With that, he pulled you closer, your eyelids feeling heavier by the second, drifting off into a peaceful nap in his arms.

___

An hour later, Molly walked in, a tray in her hands carrying a bowl of warm soup and a small vial of cramp relief potion. But as soon as she saw the two of you curled up together, fast asleep, a tender smile spread across her face. She stood there for a moment, simply watching, before turning to call Arthur over.

Arthur peeked inside, his eyes crinkling with affection as he took in the sight. “Reminds me of us back in the day,” he murmured with a fond chuckle.

Molly playfully swatted his arm before she placed the tray on the bedside table, snapping a quick photo of you and Fred with a knowing grin. Then, hand in hand, she and Arthur quietly slipped out of the room, leaving you both to your peaceful afternoon nap.

____

A/N: currently on my period and thought a fluffy fic would be healing rn <3 lowkey feeling a smut one soon? not sure though hehehe (help I'm so indecisive 😭😩)

[enzosbabyangel]

hi so I’ve had this idea for a while and I feel like you’d write it very very well- so like- Fred and George x shy reader. Like shy as in like kind but shy. Like Snow White kinda personality. also like THICK. like as in ass/tits. I FEEL LIKE THEYD FALL HARD. but anyway- reader is best friends with Harry Ron and hermione and basically has always been their bestie since first year. when Ron first introduced her to the twins she fell hard but was too shy to say anything. They asked her out in her second year , she said yes, but they kept the relationship with her secret Cus well…two guys and a girl. people will talk. Anyway- fast forward to order of the phoenix era. They’re ducking her down and RON WALKS IN- uh- everyone knows now.

I dunno I thought it’d be fun :P

☆｡° Ron walking in on you, Fred ‘n George

cw: 18+!, mdni, light smut, poly relationship, getting walked in on by Ron, Molly might be a bit ooc, i don’t really remember her personality since i started overthinking it 😅

a/n: i really liked this idea lmao, i love getting reqs for the weasleys, specially George ‘n Fred 🤭 i’d be their secret gf any day 🤍 hope you enjoy anon !! it was indeed fun to write :)

You met your best friends, Ron, Hermione and Harry in your first year. Having met them after you all got off the express when you bumped into Hermione. Stuttering out quick apologies, the two of you becoming best friends after that, which eventually included Ron and Harry after a couple weeks.

When Ron introduced you to his two, twin older brothers, Fred and George Weasley, you fell for them instantly. Especially with how they couldn’t help but tease you for your shy nature.

You’d be lying if you said the subtle differences in their personalities wasn’t what drew you in the most- asides from both of them being attractive. George was a hint more polite and empathetic. Fred more chaotic and more of the instigator, it was a nice blend.

They eventually asked you out in your second year, themselves having a ‘bit’ of an interest in you. You were unlike all of Ron’s friends, you were sometimes baffling kind, even to those such as Draco Malfoy, and you were shy- barely talking when you’d go over to the burrow. They also weren’t stupid, it was clear as day that you liked them. The way your cheeks would flush when they spoke to you and you’d constantly divert eye contact, the few times they’d catch you looking at them, told them all they needed to know. And most of all, you were pretty, and your beauty just got more and more evident as you guys grew up.

It was no surprise when you agreed. Though the twins both decided it would be best to keep the relationship secret. Not because they were embarrassed of you. Not just because you were one of their younger brother’s best friends, but also because they knew how unusual a relationship with two males and a singular girl is. It’s better to just avoid having unnecessary rumours and opinions circling around.

You guys managed to keep your relationship secret for years. Which perhaps got to the brother’s heads, as they got more and more reckless and comfortable every year.

“S’too much-“ You mewl, eyes scrunched shut and toes curling as George fucked your pretty cunt and Fred fucked your tight ass. Having previously cum twice. The brothers claiming that they wanted to see how long you could stay quiet, the three of you in Fred and George’s unlocked bedroom.

“Oh c’mon sweetheart, you can take it.” George reassured, lips trailing kisses along your neck. The more sympathetic sibling trying hard not to practically moan at the feeling of your plump tits rocking back and forth against his chest due to the other twins thrusts.

“You have a million times before.” Fred added with a chuckle. Slightly out of breath as he rocked into you at a faster pace than Fred. His larger hand coming up to grab both of your wrists and pull them back. His eyes hazy as he watched the way your ass bounced with his thrusts. “Yet your pretty lil ass always feels so tight.” He chuckled out again, placing a light slap to your ass just to watch the flesh jiggle.

A pathetic sounding whined escaped your throat, thighs clenching together more as you attempted to close your eyes even more. Feeling embarrassed at his inappropriate words. However just before you could respond, another, out of place voice replied for you.

“What the bloody hell?!” The all to familiar voice shrieked, causing the two men’s movements to halt and all of your guys’s eyes to widen.

“Ron?! have you heard of bloody knocking?!” Fred Finally let out after a couple seconds of shock. His typical smug confidence replaced with embarrassment as he grabbed his blanket and pulled it up to hide his and Freds bare bottoms and your own naked body sandwiched in between.

Rons mouth fell agape at his older brothers audacity, but quickly looked away, simply walking out while uttering one final, sarcastic and bewildered response. “Sorry i didn’t expect to walk in on my older brothers shagging one of my best friends!”

Once the sound of the door slamming close reverberated in the room you almost felt tears swelling in your eyes. Both in worry of your friendship with Ron and embarrassment. Which, of course, Fred immediately noticed.

“Hey hey, cut it out with the tears darling.” He quickly reassured despite his own embarrassment, reaching down to wipe the tears away before they could fall far.

George spoke next, pulling his now soft cock out of you as you he wrapped his arms around you in a form of a hug. They both knew you incredibly well, so they knew what you were worried about without you even voicing it.

And they also knew Ron, so they didn’t feel as worried as you, so now it was a matter of trying to get you to realize that. “Yeah pretty. You worried ‘bout Ron’s reaction? don’t be.” George said simply, running one hand in small up and down motions on your back.

“How do you know he won’t hate me?” You asked, swallowing shakily in as you spoke. Your mind immediately thinking up all of the worst case scenarios.

“Hmm let’s see.. he’s our brother and we know him?” Fred teased with a grin, though there was still a softness in his voice as he rubbed your cheek softly.

“He’ll be upset for a bit.. maybe ignore you a bit. It’ll be awkward at dinner tonight no doubt… maybe cause a bit of a scene. But trust me, he’ll get over it.” Fred reassured, confident in his words. Not bothering to lie and say that Ron will immediately be over it.

You let out a sound of thought, thinking about Fred’s words. You knew that sounded like Ron and was most likely what was going to happen, but you were an overthinker.

“Promise?” You let out after a couple seconds of living in your thoughts.

“Promise.” Fred and George both said in unison, the confidence and the solidity in their words helping you feel more at peace.

“Ok..” You let out with a soft smile, letting out a deep breath as you glanced at Fred then George.

You all were now sat at the dinner table. Molly talking away while you awkward looked downwards at your lap. You fork twirling in the pasta that Molly made for dinner tonight. Fred managed to act as if all was normal, though he still had an underlying hint of awkwardness. Evident in the way he’d avoid Ron’s eyes. George was much like you, cracking jokes like Fred but not really looking up from his food.

Ron on the other hand was taking times giving you all disgusted glares occasionally before looking back down at his own food. The tension in the air was palpable despite how everyone tried to ignore it. Harry awkwardly rubbing his hands on his pants as he observed the awkwardness in the room.

The only sounds in the room was Molly’s chatter as she attempted to ease the awkwardness in the room. Finally sitting down to enjoy her own food.

“So how is everyone?” Hermione eventually asks, her eyes roaming over the faces that she’s come to recognize and -usually- feel greatly comfortable with among the years.

Molly smiled as Hermione spoke, opening her mouth to speak before being cut off by Ron. “Bloody amazing… i bet Y/N, Fred ‘n George feel real amazing too.”

He spoke, his words dripping with sarcasm which added to the tension in the room. Everyone’s eyes going to the three of you as Ron gave you all his typical, bitter nasty look. Fred choking on his noodles while your cheeks heated up. George simply scrunching his eyes shut as if something abruptly dropped.

“Ronald Bilius Weasley!” Molly scolded among seeing the look Ron dared to give to you guys. Smacking his arm lightly with her napkin.

Ron’s attitude didn’t budge though, instead shifting his arm away from the napkin slightly as he spoke. Giving away enough but not too much. “Please, you’d be disgusted too if you saw them doing what i saw.” He emphasized the last words.

Everyone’s eye’s diverted back to the three of you’s shameful faces. Your fork stilling in between your fingers as you felt their gazes bore into your down-warded head.

“So.. what happened?” Harry muttered, voice laced with confusion and slight hesitance, unsure if he really wanted to know.

“Uh..” 

“Yeah guys ‘what happened?’”

₊ ⊹ . ݁˖ . written by enzosbabyangel, 2025 on tumblr! © do not repost on any third party website or repost as yours. Doing so will result in me blocking you and reporting.