#weasley twins fanfiction

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Best Friends Brother pt. 2 | C.W. ⋆✮⋆˙

feat. Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

SUMMARY: Months have passed since you met (ie shagged and definitely didn't fall in love with) Charlie Weasley. And when Molly invites you to the Burrow for Christmas, your best friends Fred and George assure you that Charlie will not be in attendance. Spoiler alert: They are wrong.

CW: MDNI 18+, lots of christmas fluff and smut, Charlie being a shameless flirt, pining, brat tamer and primal!charlie if you squint, dirty talk, p in v, oral (f receiving), this is so tooth-rotting I cannot

AN: Charlie might be my favorite weasley to write for. and the implications of brat taming and primal play have my mind reeeeeeling

part one | masterlist

“So what are you doing for Christmas, deary?” Mrs. Weasley asked, stirring a sugar lump into her tea. You were squeezed beside Fred into a booth at tea shop in Diagon Alley, having run into your best friends and their mother while Christmas shopping. Molly insisted you join them for a rejuvenating cuppa, and you weren't one to refuse an earl grey.

“Oh, nothing really. Probably watch some corny films and get take away,” you replied, nibbling on the edge of a croissant.

“What?!” She gasped, so loud the neighboring tables turned to see what the fuss what about.

Fred and George pulled an identical grimace.

“Unacceptable!” She cried, dropping her spoon with a clatter. “Why on earth didn't you tell me she was spending Christmas alone?!” She whacked George on the arm and kicked Fred in the shin under the table.

“We didn't know!” They whined in unison, rubbing their injuries.

“Oh, Mrs. Weasley, it really isn't a big deal—”

“Not a big deal! Dear, it's Christmas!” She reached across the table and took your hands, squeezing hard and holding your eye. “You will spend it with us at the Burrow, alright?”

Your heart stopped, your tongue going thick. “Oh, I-uh—”

“Charlie will be in Romania,” Fred hissed to you from the corner of his mouth. “Just say yes, or she’ll skin us.”

Charlie. Best friends brother, dragon wrangler, and the best lay you'd ever had in your life. It had been three months since your tryst in the storage room, and the hours of effortless conversation that came after, and you'd thought of him every day since.

You'd exchanged a few letters over the months, pleasantries and some light flirting on Charlie's part. He'd even sent you a few shed scales from your favorite dragon species, the Welsh Green, but beyond that, nothing had transpired.

He lived on Romania, after all. And his work was his life. You just had a bit of fun together, a few hours of fantasy, nothing more. But no matter how many times you repeated that like mantra, you still found yourself unable to move on.

“I hope you know, love, I will not accept 'no' as an answer,” Molly said, pining you with a stern glare.

“Well, thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’m very grateful for the invitation, and I'd love to spend the holidays with your family,” you said, offering as genuine a smile you could muster despite your trepidation, and Molly beamed at you, already running through her plans for you all.

Fred slung an arm around your shoulders, jostling you with his excitement. “Yes! You're gonna love it.”

You were grateful, and you were eager to have a real Christmas with a family you adored, but it still felt…odd. You'd be spending the holidays with Charlie's family, but not Charlie.

You weren't sure if you were relieved or disappointed but…either way you were spending Christmas at the Weasley’s.

The Burrow and it's residents welcomed you with open arms. The sprawling home was decorated floor to rafter in homemade garland and candles, with decorated trees in every room, branches heavy with ornaments and paper chains.

Harry, Hermione, and Fleur were also staying over the holidays, and Ginny was beside herself with excitement that you were joining as well, pulling you in for a crushing hug that squeezed the last of bits of anxiety from your heart. Percy and Bill helped with your things, and the twins were quick to get a drink in your hand while everyone chatted excitedly over one another.

It was warm and merry, and you couldn't believe you almost missed this because of a stupid, little crush.

After about an hour of conversation, you noticed Ginny start to fidget under Harry’s arm, glancing at the location clock by the stairs every few minutes. The hand with Charlie's name remained firmly at ‘work’, while the rest piled into ‘home’.

You exhaled, fighting the nerves reknitting themselves in your stomach.

“Oi, twitchy,” Fred bumped your shoulder, drawing your attention back to the conversation. “What's on your mind—”

The floo station suddenly flared to life, verdant green light blasting through the room as the flames roared. Everyone yelped and scurried back, well, besides Ginny, and when the flames died the next instant, you realized why.

Charlie Weasley stood at the center of the fireplace, a bag over his shoulder and a smug smile on his face.

Your stomach turned inside out.

Merlin, how had he gotten even more handsome? His hair was a slightly longer, his beard thicker to ward off the biting, Romanian cold. He wore a heavy coat and cargo pants, leather boots still packed with melting snow.

“Charles!” Molly shrieked, throwing herself at her second oldest son and pulling him into a bone-crushing hug.

“Charlie!” Everyone cried, rushing to greet him while you tiptoed the opposite way, meaning to escape into the hall so you could collect yourself.

“Ah, ah,” George said, catching your wrist, grinning. “You don't want to do that,” he teased.

“And why not?” You huffed.

“Better to play it cool,” he winked, and you stuck your tongue out at him.

He was right, though. You would only survive this if you played it cool. Pretended everything was normal, that you hadn't been pining for this man for weeks on end, that the thought of spending Christmas with Charlie didn't make your heart flutter with excitement.

“But the clock!” Arthur laughed, finally wrangling Molly away so he could hug his son.

“Asked Ginevra to enchant it,” Charlie said, hugging his father with one arm and bundling his little sister into his opposite side, dropping a kiss on top of her head. “Seems she did well.”

“It is not to be tampered with!” Molly crowed, wiping tears from her cheeks.

“Alright, alright. I'll fix it,” Charlie chuckled, withdrawing his wand from his belt and muttering a reversal spell. The clock hand whirred around the face, confused, before it finally settled on ‘home’ with everyone else.

Charlie made his way around the room, hugging everyone and chatting until finally, he reached George, who you were attempting to hide behind.

Charlie pulled him into a bear hug, clapping him on the back. “She knows I can see her, right?” He murmured to George, just loud enough to be sure you also heard him.

Your cheeks warmed, your stomach falling through the floor.

George scoffed. “Stop checkin’ out my girlfriend, mate.”

Charlie grinned, shoving George to the side, perhaps a little harder than necessary. “Dream on, Georgie,” he chuckled, eyes shining with amusement. He finally turned to you, his expression softening. “Happy Christmas, y/n,” he said, approaching slowly, the heavy plod of his boots matching the jump of your heart.

“Happy Christmas, Charlie,” you replied, playing coy and reaching up to brush some snow from his wide shoulder. “How's my Welsh Green?” you asked.

Charlie smirked, his eyes sweeping over your face, down your neck, before flicking back to your eyes. “She nearly took my head off this morning when I tried to give her breakfast.”

“My kind of girl.” You felt your skin prickle under his attention, but you held your composure.

“Mine too,” he purred, lowering his voice. Heat curled low in your stomach, remembering the way his voice pitched and deepened while you—good god, you were losing your mind.

“Time for supper!” Molly called over the dull roar of conversation, and you slipped away from Charlie to follow the twins into the dining room, desperate for a breath that wasn’t sweetened by his cologne.

Dinner went by in a blur of food and activity, Charlie sat by Arthur at the head while you were sequestered to the other side with the twins. After eating, Charlie slipped away to shower, and you joined everyone else back in the living room for board games and music.

You were wrapped up in a game of Scrabble with Hermoine and Ginny when Charlie re-emerged, his hair damp and slicked back, dressed in flannel pajama pants and a black t-shirt. Your mouth dried, your pussy fluttering at the mental image of him in the shower moments before.

His eyes found you across the room, his tongue darting out to wet his lips while they swept over you, taking in the House crewneck and pj shorts you’d changed into. You turned back the game to hide your face, swallowing the lump in your throat.

A moment passed, then Charlie turned to join Bill, Percy, and Arthur in the study, casting you another glance over his shoulder before disappearing.

A few more hours rolled by, and one by one, everyone went to bed besides the older men in the study. Molly set you up on the couch, apologizing profusely for the lack of space, but you waved her off, happy to curl up by the fire and read the book Percy lent you.

You settled in with a blanket over your lap, a book in one hand, cup of tea in the other. Soon though, exhaustion began to tug at you, and your eyes started to flutter closed, the warmth of the room and the chaos of the day taking its toll as you slipped into unconsciousness.

Distantly, you felt someone take the book from your hand, the empty tea cup from your lap, and you swam back to wakefulness, lifting your head.

“Just me, love,” a voice said, soft and male, and you immediately recognized it as Charlie’s.

You blinked open your eyes, finding him sticking a playing card in your book to hold your page. “Oh, what are you doin’?” you mumbled, rubbing a knuckle in your eye.

“Are you sleeping down here?” he asked, crouching in front of you, brow lightly creased. He smelled like woodsmoke and cinnamon, and you had to remind your sleep-addled mind that you could not just melt into his arms like softened candle wax.

You nodded. “Guest beds are full. But it’s okay, m’comfy.” You snuggled back down on to the couch, pulling the blanket up to your chin.

“I don’t think so. C’mon, you can take my bed.”

You shook your head, grumbling an unintelligible protest into the pillow as sleep crept back in on you.

Suddenly, you were moving, the couch falling away.

“I’m not letting you sleep on the sodding couch,” Charlie grumbled, curling you into his chest. You gave half a thought to try and free yourself, to put up some sort of fight, but his heartbeat was right against your ear, reverberating in the barrel of his chest, and you just couldn’t bring yourself to move away.

He carried you up a few flights of stairs and down a hallway, nudging open a bedroom door with his foot, careful to walk you through without bumping against anything. He set you down on his bed and tucked you under the thick duvet. The smell of him wrapped around you, clean and warm and Charlie, and you moaned in contentment, too tired to stop yourself.

Every one of your cells had missed him.

He pressed a light-as-air kiss to your temple before pulling away. You reached out to catch his hand, surprising him.

“Where are you gonna sleep?” You asked, voice muffled by his pillow.

“I’ll find somewhere,” he murmured, rubbing your knuckles with his thumb. “Used to sleeping in strange places.”

You must have pulled some kind of face, your filter nonexistent in your sleepy state, because he leaned back down to you, lips brushing the shell of your ear.

“Better stop with that pout, sweetheart. You’ve got me strung out on the gallows,” he warned, a teasing lilt to his voice.

“M’not doing anything,” you teased back, peeking open your eyes to look at him.

“I’m trying to behave this time,” he chuckled, crossing his heart. “You deserve to be properly courted.”

A yawn stole the snarky quip from your tongue. “If you insist,” you sigh, eyes fluttering closed again.

“I do. Now, get some sleep,” he whispered, but you were already gone.

The following morning, you trudged down the stairs at an egregious hour, the incessant, jovial chatter of the Weasley's impossible to sleep through.

You found them all in the kitchen, steam from the kettle floating through the air, chased by the scent of cinnamon and syrup.

“There she is! The dead walks the earth! Now go bloody change!” Arthur shouted, shoving a rumpled but bright-eyed looking Charlie out from the crowd around the kitchen island.

“Huh?” You looked between the twins and Arthur, but Charlie slung an arm over your shoulder, tugging you into his side.

“I've been summoned to the Ministry for an update on a particularly nasty Horntail,” he said, then leaned in a little closer. “And Happy Christmas Eve, darling,” he whispered.

“Happy Christmas Eve—sorry, what does that have to do with me?” You asked, your brain catching up to the situation.

“The sap refused to risk waking you up to change into his suit,” George supplied. "So they're running late."

“Why would you—”

“Ignore them, you can sleep as long as you like,” he murmured to you.

“Charlie!” You hissed. “You should have woken me up!”

“Over my dead body, love.”

“Charles! Now!” Molly shouted, rattling the rafters.

“Fine, fine.” He reluctantly pulled away from you and bound up the stairs.

“Good morning,” Fred said, beaming at your scowl.

“Morning people, are we?” You asked, accepting a cup of coffee from George.

“No,” Ron argued, his head pillowed by his arms on the table.

Fifteen minutes later, the clop of heavy boots coming down the stairs drew everyone's attention away from their breakfast.

Charlie came around the bend, dressed in a simple, espresso colored suit with a black wool coat, a leather bag slung over his shoulder. His hair was pushed back, brushed and tidy, and silver jewelry shined from his pierced ears and ringed hands.

You nearly choked on your eggs, and Fred clapped a hand on your back.

Everyone wolf whistled and jeered, not used to seeing their rakish brother dressed to the nines. Charlie waved them off with a soft smile, leaning over you to grab a cinnamon roll. His freshly applied cologne wafted over you, spicy and warm, and all other thoughts vacated your head.

Arthur grabbed him by the arm. “Yes, yes. You're very handsome, you are my son after all. Let's go.”

“Wish us luck!” Charlie called, allowing an impatient Arthur to drag him towards the floo station. In a burst of green, they were gone.

“Are all mornings this chaotic?” You asked no one in particular.

“Yes,” they all replied in a unison, and you grinned.

You could get used to a little chaos.

The day passed in a whirlwind of preparation, with you spending most of it with Molly in the kitchen or decorating with the twins.

Once that was finished, you'd gotten ready in Charlie's room, dressing in a white sweater dress and black stockings, your hair loose and makeup light.

You couldn't help but wonder what Charlie would think of it as you evaluated yourself in the mirror. You felt his absence like an ache in your side, and found your gaze wandering back to the floo station all day.

About an hour before dinner, green flames finally erupted in the fireplace. Everyone dropped what they were doing and rushed over, eager to hear about how it went at the Ministry.

You'd gathered from the twins that the fate of the Horntail hung in the balance after it destroyed a flock of sheep in Western Scotland. Charlie, along with several other Dragonologists, had been fighting for it’s life for months.

The flames extinguished, revealing Arthur and Charlie. Arthur was beaming, an arm around his son, while Charlie looked exhausted.

“Oh, thank goodness. Just in time!” Molly cried, throwing her arms around her husband.

“How'd it go?” Everyone asked at once, following Charlie as he stalked into the living room and dropped heavily onto the couch.

Charlie pinched the bridge of his nose, his eyes shut against the racket.

“Our son was incredible, Molly. You should have seen him. Every question, he beat away like a bludger. It was masterful,” Arthur gushed, still grinning.

You watched Charlie warily. He certainly wasn't acting like it had gone well.

Bill, seeming as concerned as you, poured a glass of whiskey and passed it to his younger brother. Charlie swallowed the amber drink in one go, not even bothering to open his eyes.

“So, is the Horntail safe?” Ginny asked, sitting tentatively beside her brother on the couch.

“For now,” Charlie muttered, finally picking his head up and opening his eyes. “They want to reevaluate in six months.”

“But that's good, isn't it?” Harry asked.

Charlie nodded. “I suppose.”

You could feel the hurt and anger radiating off of him despite his efforts at composure. The resolution clearly wasn't good enough for him, and you understood why.

You resisted the urge to sit by him, to fuss over him like his family was doing. It seemed to only drive him deeper into himself. He didn't need to hear that it was a good thing, a victory, because it wasn't. It shouldn't be a debate in the first place.

Christmas Eve dinner passed with the expected chaos, and Charlie seemed to cheer a bit after a good meal, a few laughs, and another whiskey. But you could still detect a heaviness around his shoulders. You felt it as keenly as if it was your own burden.

After dinner, everyone moved back into the living room, but you followed Charlie into the now abandoned kitchen, the wreckage of the meal evident on every surface.

You leaned against the entry way, watching as he fiddled with random things, looking for a way to distract himself. “Hey,” you murmured, drawing his attention from the mugs he was straightening.

He gave you a tired smile. “Hi, love. How was your day?” He asked, moving towards you. He'd ditched his blazer and dress shirt before dinner, leaving him in his dark trousers and a white t-shirt, his muscles straining against the fabric.

“It was good. Made some cookies, strung some lights. We missed you, though.”

He braced a hand on the wall beside your head, leaning closer. “We?” He asked, raising a brow.

Merlin, his bicep was the size of your head.

You shrugged, swallowing the lump in your throat. “Me, mostly.”

The corner of his mouth lifted, freckles crinkling around his eyes. “I missed you too. Would have much rather been here to help out. I make a mean gingerbread.”

“I bet you do," you replied sincerely, watching the way his shoulders start to ease down. “I’m sorry about the Horntail,” you said, a little quieter. “But I'm glad you bought it a little more time.”

Charlie sighed, picking at a flake of paint on the wall. “I am too. Just wish I didn't have to do it at all. He doesn't deserve to be executed just for feeding himself.”

“I know. But I'm glad he has you to speak for him.”

Charlie searched your face, his eyes melting with blatant affection. Your heart tripped over itself, drumming hard under your skin.

He glanced up and you followed his gaze, finding a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above your heads. You hadn't noticed it before, but you supposed that was the beauty of mistletoe: it was always where you least expected it.

His eyes flicked back down to you, molten chocolate, and your thoughts turned to static. He reached up to cup your face, far more timid than you've come to expect from him, and tilted your head up towards his.

“Can't believe I haven't told you how beautiful you look yet,” he said, his other hand sliding around your waist to draw you closer. “A Christmas wish come true.”

You smiled, feeling like marshmallow over an open flame. “A Christmas wish?” You prodded, batting your lashes at him as heat spilled through you.

“Too cheesy?” He asked, bumping his nose against yours, your faces so close you could almost feel his smirk.

“The perfect amount,” you murmured, your lips grazing his.

Charlie closed the final millimeter, pressing your bodies together in a slow, sipping kiss. Every neuron in your body lit up, reaching towards him as you curled your fingers into his shirt, deepening the kiss. His tongue caressed the seam of your mouth and you parted for him, letting him delve further and taste you.

He loosed a low groan, his grip tightening as he backed you against the wall. He licked into your mouth, stoking the fire simmering under your skin.

“Hey, y/n—merlin, in the middle of the kitchen? Really?”

You and Charlie sprang apart, finding Fred with a hand clapped over his eyes, a cheeky grin on his face.

“So sorry for interrupting. Though, lucky it was me and not mum,” he teased, dropping his hand. But his smile quickly fell too when Charlie advanced on him, swinging an arm out in an attempt to grab him. Fred ducked to the left and bolted back into the living room, leaving Charlie laughing and shaking his head.

“Well, that's fantastic,” you huffed, pressing a hand to your sternum to quell your pounding heart.

“I can't say they'll be all that surprised.” Charlie cupped your face again, drawing you up for a quick peck. “I haven't shut up about you since we met.”

You're soul lifted out of your body. “You—r-really?”

He smiled, pulling you in for a hug, his big arms wrapped around your head and shoulders. “Really, love. You've got me wrapped around your little finger,” he said, his voice muffled by your hair.

“I thought I was going mad, I…I couldn't stop thinking about you,” you admitted, exhaling in relief. You hugged him around the waist, sliding your hands under his shirt just to feel his skin against yours.

You felt him stiffen at your admission, before the tension dissolved from his muscles completely. “Maybe we're both a little mad, then,” he chuckled.

“We should get back to the party before they start to miss us,” you said after a few moments of quiet, though all you wanted to do was drag him up to his room and show him just how mad you were for him. But you were a guest, and you needed a moment to get your thoughts in order.

It seemed Charlie had made up his mind about what he wanted, but you hadn't even begun to let yourself consider something real with Charlie Weasley. It seemed like too lofty a hope, an impossibility.

Your heart screamed ‘yes’ but your mind demanded a rationalization, a plan. Whatever you felt for him was intense, but you would hate to rush into something and ruin what you knew could be amazing.

Well, rush into something any more than your already had.

You realized he was studying you like your thoughts were written across your skin. “Baby, look at me,” he said, turning your face back up to his. “I know we started off on an…unorthodox foot. But that wasn't just a hook up and you and I both know it.” He leaned his forehead against yours. “There’s something more between us.”

“I feel it too,” you admitted. “But I've never…” you trailed off, unable to articulate the tumbling thoughts in your mind.

“Me neither, to be honest. I feel like I've been struck by lightning,” he said, breathless, a slight nervous tremble in his voice.

You nodded, reassured that he was feeling the same, vaguely crazed way you were.

“Trust yourself, y/n,” he said, releasing you from the hug and offering you his hand. “Overthinking is the thief of joy.”

“Get out of my brain,” you huffed in mock annoyance, smiling as you twined your fingers with his.

The rest of the evening passed in a rose colored blur, with cookies and games and storytelling. Charlie never strayed far from your side, though you kept any physical affection to a minimum. But based on the knowing looks from Arthur and Molly, and the teasing smirks and jabs from his siblings, they were definitely on to you two.

After the clock struck midnight, Molly demanded everyone go off to bed so Father Christmas would have no interruptions. You were all plenty old enough to know there was no such thing, but it still made you feel a giddy thrill of excitement. That glimmer of Christmas magic you never grow out of.

Charlie offered you his hand at the base of the stairs, a mischievous sort of smile on his face, and you accepted with a raised eyebrow. He led you up the stairs and opened the door to his room with a flourish.

You nearly toppled over when you walked in. It was completely transformed from this morning. Gone were the normal decorations and his dark duvet, replaced instead with a winter forest wonderland.

His bedspread was a deep forest green, with white throw pillows and silver trim, and a stuffed reindeer waited patiently for you on the pillow, floppy and velveteen. In the corner stood a flocked tree, decorated with pine cones and strung cranberries, and little animal ornaments carved from wood. The fire roared merrily in the fireplace, the mantle above it strewn with wild garland and rosemary. Two stockings hung above the flame, each of your names embroidered on them in silver and gold.

You whirled around to look at Charlie, who was smiling down at you, a slight flush to his freckled cheeks.

“When the hell did you have time to do this?” You asked, breathless and overwhelmed. No one has ever done something so special for you before.

“While you were wrapped up in Wizards Chess with Ron.” He snaked his arms around you, dropping a kiss to your furrowed brow.

“Charlie, this is—” emotion clogged your throat. “T-this is the m-most amazing thing—”

“Oh, baby,” he cooed, shushing you with a peck to your lips. “Spoiling you on Christmas feels like the least I can do to show you how much you mean to me. How badly I want this.”

“This?” You ask, sliding your hands up his broad chest. You expected to feel butterflies, but instead a warm blanket of peace settled over you, an understanding that this is exactly how it was meant to go. That here, with him, in the earliest hours of Christmas morning, was exactly where you belonged.

“Us,” he murmured, glancing at the stockings over the mantle, then back down to you, his dark eyes practically glowing with affection. “If that's what you want too.”

“Even with me here in London?” You asked, fiddling with his collar to hide the shaking in your fingers.

“We'll figure it out. You can come visit me as often as you like. And I can come back here a few times a month.” He leaned forward and pressed a kiss to your cheek, moving down your neck like he just couldn't hold himself back anymore. “I have a cabin.” Kiss. “In the forest.” Kiss. “With a big fireplace.” Kiss. “And a soaking tub.” Kiss. “And I can cook.” Kiss. “And have a giant bed—”

“Charlie!” You giggled, tugging on his hair so he lifted his head and you could kiss him properly, melting under the eagerness of his mouth, the joy in his kiss.

He scooped you up, wrapping your legs around his waist. He crossed the room without breaking the kiss, sinking down onto the edge of the bed with you straddling him. The heat of your bodies pressed together was enough to have your pussy tingling, your breath labored.

“I wanna go where you go,” you breathed, breaking the kiss to appease your burning lungs. “I want to be with you.”

He responded with another fervid kiss, open-mouthed and hungry, and you let yourself get swept away in the riptide that was Charlie Weasley. Wild, impulsive, but so sincere, so lion-hearted and good. You weren't sure you'd ever get enough of him.

He seemed just as desperate for you, tugging his shirt over his head and letting your hands finally wander the full expanse of his body without barriers. You pushed him back onto the bed so you could really take him in, his big hands resting heavily on your thighs. He was broad and sturdy, his chest and arms corded with hard earned muscle, the tanned skin littered with freckles and silvery scars.

You nearly started drooling.

In a fluid motion, you tugged your sweater dress over your head, leaving you in nothing but your Christmas underwear set and black stockings. The set was black mesh, decorated with mistletoe and holly berries. You had bought in Hogsmeade on the off chance Charlie made an appearance, and it was worth the steep price to see his soul ascend as he took you in.

“Merlin’s fucking—” he didn't even finish the sentence, instead pulling you down onto his chest for another scalding kiss, his calloused hands wandering up your thighs and over your hips, smoothing over the curve of your rib cage and around the plane of your back. His tongue slid into your mouth, twining with yours. You could taste the whiskey he'd been drinking, tinged with cigar smoke and gingerbread, and you moaned at the decadence of him.

One of his hands slid around to cup the nape of your neck, the other bracketing across your lower back to press your hips flush to his. You ground down onto him, unable to ignore the thrumming between your legs any longer. You both groaned at the new friction, his hips lifting to press more firmly against you.

“Just so you know,” he gruffed as you kissed down his neck, licking a long stripe over his Adam’s apple, feeling his stubble under your tongue. “I put a silencing charm on the room.”

“Very presumptuous of you,” you teased, sucking at his pulse just hard enough to leave a faint bruise, but nothing too obvious.

His hips rolled against yours, coaxing a breathy moan from your lips. “Part of my training includes being prepared for any situation,” he countered, his voice strained with desire as you rocked against him.

“Uh-huh. And what else were you trained to do?” You asked, freezing in place to watch him squirm.

A wicked smirk crossed his face and suddenly you were moving, flipped beneath his body faster than you could blink. “How to tame brats,” he growled against your ear, and a shiver rolled down your spine.

He shifted down your body, kissing and licking along the swell of your breasts before unlatching your bra and tossing in across the room. He took both your tits in his hands, nuzzling the soft flesh before laving his tongue across both nipples, making you lift off the bed with a gasp of pleasure.

“It's not fair that you get to walk around with these all the time. Too fucking perfect,” he said, his voice muffled by your skin.

You almost said that they were his. That the only thing that wasn't fair was how quickly he'd stolen your heart. But you bit your tongue, moaning under his ministrations instead.

He sucked a pearled nipple into his mouth, flicking his tongue over it before grazing his teeth against it, his fingers pinching and rolling the other until your eyes crossed, desire pooling between your legs.

“Can take my time with you now,” he hummed, pulling back to pepper kisses across your chest. “Take care of my girl properly.”

My girl. Your head spun, your heart swelling with elation. You never thought this would happen for you, the perpetually single girl who never found someone you genuinely connected with. But Charlie was like a comet tearing through your life, turning every one of your assumptions about love upside down.

He drew you back from your thoughts with a bite under your left breast. “Come back to me, baby. No more overthinking.”

“It’s good thoughts this time,” you said, running your fingers through his ginger hair and scratching along his scalp as he soothed the mark with his tongue.

He looked up at you, a pleased smirk on his face. “Thinking about that soaking tub, huh?”

You pulled his hair, giggling at his antics while he moved further down your body. “Among other things—shit, Charlie,” you whined when his tongue dragged over the soaked gusset of your panties, scalding hot and firm.

He pulled them to the side, gliding his tongue through your slick folds and wrapping his lips around your clit, lashing it with the tip of his tongue. Pleasure coursed through you, your eyes rolling back in your skull as you cried out.

He hummed against you, moving back down to lap at your entrance with long, messy strokes. He was practically grinding his face against you, savoring you like you were the finest meal he'd ever had. He was so enraptured in pleasuring you that he was moaning right along with you, making your clit vibrate and walls flutter.

“Saints, I missed you,” he said, giving your clit and open mouthed kiss before sucking the sensitive bud between his teeth.

You couldn't even begin to formulate words, completely lost in his feasting, your body fizzing with delight and pleasure. It felt like you were high, your muscles languid, bones rubbery.

“Not thinking anymore, are we?” He teased, nipping at the soft skin of your inner thigh.

You whimpered and shook your head, raising your hips to chase after his mouth.

“Good girl.” he purred, rewarding you by latching back onto your clit, his middle finger easing inside your greedy channel.

You cried out, clenching around his finger as he pushed you closer to the edge, your listless haze making way for bright, desperate pleasure. You bucked your hips against his mouth, his tongue flattening against your clit as his inserted a second finger, stretching you. The sounds were damn near sinful, lewd and sloppy as he worked your pussy into submission, molding you like a sculptor with wet clay.

“Fuck, Charlie. M’gonna come,” you whined, tangling your fingers in his hair to keep him in that perfect spot.

He curled his fingers inside of you and your vision whited out, your orgasm ripping through you, body and soul. You screamed, spine arching off the bed as wave after wave of burning ecstasy rolled through you, his tongue and fingers not letting up for a second as you convulsed.

“That's it, honey. Just like that, let it all go,” he cooed, kitten-licking your clit as you started to come down, his fingers continuing to gently massage your spasming walls. “Try to relax, love. I know it's a lot, but just relax f’me. You're doing so well.”

You sank back into the mattress, breathing labored as he soothed your quivering pussy with gentle touches. “Charlie,” you moaned, your body finally settling and cycling from overstimulation to rebuilding pleasure. “Feels s’good.”

He nuzzled your clit, kissing over your slit, the top of your mound, your inner thighs. “I live to serve,” he said, withdrawing his fingers and sucking them clean. “And if I have to live my life in service to this perfect little cunt, so be it.” As if to punctuate his point, he laved his tongue through you again and you keened, nearly jumping away at the intensity.

You shook you head, tugging him up by the hair. “Need you to fuck me, Charlie. Please?”

He grinned, kissing his way back up your body until he caught your lips once more, the taste of you mixing with him in a way that pleased some possessive part of your brain. You deepened the kiss, licking into his mouth for more.

He pressed his body against yours, the weight of him warm and comforting as you savored one another. You trailed your hands over his back, feeling some of the ridges and scars stretched across the ropes of muscle. He guided one of your legs up over his hip, angling your bodies together like a puzzle piece.

You basked in the simmering kiss for a moment longer before need began to claw at your insides, your hips pressing up against his once more.

“Charlie, please,” you sighed into his mouth, dragging your nails down his back. “Don't make me beg.”

“But you sound so sweet, all breathy and desperate,” he cooed, pecking your lips a final time before moving off the bed. He slid your panties down your legs, tossing them aside with your other clothes, then removed his trousers and boxers, that gorgeous, rosy cock slapping up against his stomach.

He climbed back onto the bed and spread your thighs, kneading the flesh at your hip while he ran the rigid head of his cock through your drooling pussy.

“My sweet girl wants to get fucked, hm?” he said, his voice rough as he used his cock to massage your puffy clit. “Let me hear you ask one more time, honey. Sounds so pretty.”

“Please fuck me, baby. Please,” you whimpered, fisting the sheets on either side of you.

He notched his cock at your entrance, hissing through his teeth as your pussy opened effortlessly for him. “That's it, lovey. Fuck, your little pussy is so tight f’me,” he groaned as your walls clenched around him, coaxing him deeper. You could tell he was fighting the urge to bottom out in one thrust, the muscles in his arms and shoulders taught and trembling, chest heaving and jaw a little slack.

You reached for him, the feeling so intense you needed an anchor. He leaned forward, knowing what you craved, and let you wrap your arms around him and bury your face into his neck.

He rubbed soothing circles on your thigh, his other hand sliding around your back to hold you against him. “Too much, baby?” He asked, pausing his slow penetration.

“Too good,” you whimpered, digging your nails into his shoulders.

He nodded, loosing a breath as you clenched around him. “Feel like your squeezing my heart,” he groaned, and you could feel it racing just beneath his skin, frantic as yours.

“Keep going, Charlie. Please,” you begged, tilting your pelvis so he sank a little deeper.

He eased you back onto the bed, still holding you close. “Good girl, takin’ me so well. Just relax, honey. Just feel me,” he soothed as he pushed the rest of the way in, his cockhead nudging your cervix and stretching your walls just enough. Not sensing any discomfort from you, he started rolling his hips back and forth in fluid strokes, kissing your skin wherever he could reach.

Pleasure spread through your body like ink through water, coloring every sensation, every thought. You loosened your grip on him, opening yourself up to his unhurried affection as he fucked you slowly, letting you adjust to the onslaught of sensation.

“You're so pretty like this, so fucking perfect.” He mouthed at your throat, your head tilting back with a cry as he increased his pace, ecstasy dancing along your skin. “All mine to love on, yeah? You all mine, baby?”

You bobbed your head, already cockdrunk and blissed out, your body submitting completely to him. “Yes, fuck, yes. All yours,” you whimpered, that knot in your lower stomach starting to tighten.

“Fuck yes, my good girl.” He leaned down and caught your lips in a searing kiss, a growl rumbling through his chest as he fucked you harder, driving his cock in and out of your sopping cunt with powerful strokes. “And I'm yours, baby. All fucking yours.” He murmured against your mouth and you grinned, feeling your heart give a discordant thump of elation.

He leaned back to fuck you deeper, one hand tangling with both of yours and pining your arms over your head, the other sliding down to rub tight circles over your clit. You stretched out for him, arching your breasts up to his hungry gaze as he railed you, merciless and claiming.

“Saints, you look so fucking sexy. Gonna come for me, love? Mark this cock as yours?”

You let out a scream as a second orgasm was wrenched from your body, the tension unraveling all at once in a torrent of bliss. You clamped hard around him, feeling his cock swell, then buck as his own release crashed over him, your name coming out like roar.

You clung to one another, his hips still rolling into yours as your walls milked him dry, wringing every drop of pleasure from one another until you crashed back to earth as one.

After catching your breath for a moment, he lifted off of you, hands skimming over your face, your body. “Merlin, I’m sorry, baby. I really didn't mean to be that rough, are you okay? Did I hurt—”

You silenced him with a kiss, pulling his body back down onto yours. “Was perfect,” you mumbled against his lips and he smiled.

“You were perfect,” he corrected, pecking kisses all over your cheeks and forehead. “Can’t get enough of you.”

You giggled, squirming as his hands tickled along your sensitive skin.

“Can I take you for a real date tomorrow? I don't know if anything will be open, but I refuse to go another day without—”

“Charlie,” you shushed, cupping his bearded cheek. “You can take me to the kitchen and call it a first date. I don't care about some made-up fucking rules. I just want to be with you.”

He grinned, giving you a quick, toothy kiss. “Then how about I clean you up, make some mulled wine with this expensive shit I brought back from Romania, and we cuddle by the fire? Call that our first date, and next year we can celebrate our one year anniversary on Christmas.”

You pushed against his chest, laughing at his dramatics, but secretly hoping that would be the case. “It better be a hell of mulled wine then,” you teased.

“Oh, it will be. Romanians don't fuck around when it comes to their booze. Now, open those gorgeous legs for me.”

“Charles Septimus Weasley! Get up!” Ginny shouted through the door, banging her fist on the wood. “You cannot sleep in on Christmas!”

“Septimus?” You groaned, rubbing the sleep from your eyes.

Charlie had his head buried in your neck, heavy limbs thrown over your body. He was warm as a furnace, and the still crackling fire didn't help matters.

“Sod off!” he barked back, nuzzling closer and tightening his hold around you. You glanced at the clock, and after your prolonged first date, you'd only gotten a few scant hours of sleep.

“Fine! Then I'll throw whatever's in this fancy little box in the fire!”

Charlie was up in a flash, tugging on pants and wrenching open the door, but Ginny was already gone.

He sighed, grabbed something from the hall, then swung the door shut. He looked ready to dive back into bed, but you were already up, pulling on a pair of his boxers.

He froze in place, a feral sort of glint in his eye, forgetting entirely about the package in his hands. When you went to grab it, he lifted it high above his head, well out of your reach.

“Charlie!” You pouted, trying in vain to pull his arm down. He still hadn't taken his eyes off of your body. “You really want me to make a bad impression on your parents for our first Christmas?” You snapped, fighting the smile rising on your face.

“Just do a little spin for me,” he said, twirling a finger around.

“Charlie!”

“Fine, fine. Here,” he chuckled, handing you a pair of pajamas with your name embroidered on them. They were red and green, with white stripes and gold thread, the material thick and warm.

You loved them already.

The two of you quickly got dressed and hurried downstairs, finding everyone else already piled into the living room, also dressed in matching pj's.

“Ah, the lovebirds finally make their appearance!” Bill teased from the big arm chair, Fleur cuddled into his side.

Charlie flipped him off, ignoring the squawk of disapproval form his mother.

“Come, come!” Molly grabbed you and plunked you down on the last free space on the couch, and George passed you a steaming mug of hot chocolate.

George leaned in and muttered, “It's no mulled wine, but—”

Charlie whacked the back of his head. “Quiet, you,” he warned.

“Charles, if I have to speak to you again!” Molly shouted.

“Alright, alright! Let's get this show on the road,” Arthur said, shooing his son away so they could distribute the clumsily wrapped boxes under the tree.

Charlie plopped onto the floor between your knees, his hands coming up to absently massage your right foot. Your whole body tingled at the contact, your heart still tight with joy.

Could this really be your life?

Arthur passed out gifts, and you ended up with a pile of three at your feet. A flat, rectangular box, a heavy, square box, and one small enough to fit in your hand, wrapped in green and gold ribbon.

They went around one by one, opening gifts. Charlie received a new pair of steel-toed boots, enchanted to prevent the Romanian cold from creeping in, and an expensive looking bottle of gin, courtesy of his big brother.

After him, it was finally your turn. Your heart thudded from the attention, and you started unwrapping the larger present with trembling fingers. You tore off the paper and opened the white box underneath it, finding a knitted sweater with your initial on the front. Your throat pinched shut, tears burning behind your eyes as you traced your fingers over it.

“You're part of the family now, love,” Molly said, smiling warmly at you as you wiped away a tear with the back of your hand.

“Thank you,” you sniffled, laughing at yourself, and Charlie gave your ankle a reassuring squeeze, pressing a kiss to your knee.

The next present was from Fred and George, a stack of books you'd been eyeballing the last time the three of you went to Flourish and Blotts, and you pulled them in for a group hug.

Finally, it came down to the last present. The tension pulled taut as a bowstring when Charlie turned towards you, propped up on one knee, presenting the small box.

“I know how this looks,” he murmured, glancing down at himself. “But I promise I'm not that insane.”

You giggled nervously, taking the present from his hand and trying to ignore that his entire family was watching you. You tried to focus on Charlie, the rise and fall of his shoulders, the lock of copper hair hanging over his brow, and blocked the others out.

Carefully, you undid the ribbon and tore off the paper, revealing a black, dragon-leather box. Charlie gave you an encouraging nod, noticing the way you hesitated, and you cracked open the lid.

Inside was a golden necklace with a Welsh Green dragon scale pendant sitting on a velvet cushion. It was the most stunning shade of emerald you'd ever seen, reflecting beautifully in the candlelight, shifting blue, then pearlescent, and back to green. It was breathtaking, and you fought back the tears gathering on your lower lashes so you could continue to gaze at it.

“Charlie, this is—” emotion stole your words, and all you could do was throw your arms around him and bury your face into his shoulder.

“I hope you love it, darling. Had it made just for you,” he whispered, pressing a kiss to your hair. “Here, let me put it on you.”

You nodded, sitting up and trying to wipe your tears before his family could see what a mess you were, but when you looked around, you saw half of them crying too.

Molly blew you a kiss, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief, and you nearly lost it again.

Charlie gently took the box from your hands and walked around behind the couch. His cool fingers grazed the sides of your throat and the weight of the pendant settled against your clavicle. A moment later, your heard the clasp click, and felt the warm brush of his lips on the back on your neck.

You fondled the pendant with your fingers, the metal already warming against your heated skin, the scale heavy and smooth. Charlie came back around to the front, eyes lighting up at the sight of your smile.

“Merry Christmas, my love,” he hummed, wiping a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You grabbed his collar and pulled him in for a kiss. “Merry Christmas, Charlie.”

Thank you so much for reading!! (and if you have anything you'd like to read for Charlie, my asks are open!)

[lqveharrington]

FRED WEASLEY AND ALL TOO WELL😭🫶 pleasee

All Too Well | F.W.

summary: your daughter gets curious about all the different parchment you had stored away.

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

includes: reader’s last name is Lupin, mainly fluff and angst, kissing, playful teasing, pregnancy, death, crying (this fic is practically as long as the song)

a/n: first fic of the 2k celebration! also, i cried everytime i came back to write this 😭 i miss him so much (rules for celebration here!)

It had been exactly eleven years since your beautiful baby girl Charlotte was born, Molly and Arthur Weasley's first grandchild. Born a pureblood, she would be going to Hogwarts this September and you couldn't be more proud. From all the stories Charlotte heard about your time at Hogwarts, she knew she would have the time of her life. Especially since all the stories were about you, her father, and her uncles. You would tell her all the stories of how the twins and Lee would set up pranks only to be scolded by McGonagall. Sometimes you had to scold them too.

You missed the days where you had no care in life except for your studies. You missed spending every single day with your favorite people and seeing them everyday. You missed everything Hogwarts had to offer before the war began.

But even after all the chaos it brought, your sweet girl was born. The only righteous matter to come out of the war.

"Mum, what's that?" Charlotte sat beside you on the couch and perched her head on your shoulder as she looked inside the box you brought out, beautiful red hair draping over your body.

Her gaze was drawn to the different sized parchment, each one having different drawings and dates. Charlotte picked one up and read the name, eyes widening at the signatures signed at the bottom. They were her father's and there were so many of them. "Whoa."

"What're you doing, creeper?" You laugh softly and pull her to sit in front of you, kissing the top of her head when she put the note back inside the box.

"What are all of those?” She gestured to the box and looked at you with curious eyes, fingers moving to touch the gold ring around your left hand; A habit she picked up from you whenever you felt the need to fidget. “Did dad send you all of those?”

You nod and clasp your hand around hers, feeling her pulse. "Yeah, he uhm,” You cleared your throat and blinked fast, ridding yourself of the tears that wanted to spill over. "He would write me one from the day we met until he… Your dad would even write me notes when I was just sitting next to him in class."

You pursed your lips and looked down, mind going through years and years of memories. Every time you received a new note, you wrote down the date to keep track of how long he had been doing it.

"There's so many..." Charlotte looked in awe and made out some of the dates, many of them dating back to when you were eleven. “He must have loved you a lot, mum. Especially since you kept all of them.”

You let out a chuckle, your hand reaching up to hold the gold ring adorning your necklace, thumb feeling the lettering inside. “Well, your dad was head over heels for me, Char.” You watched her pick up different parchment and smiled softly at how intrigued she was.

“Here, pick a couple and I'll tell you the stories behind them.” You hand her the box and watch her eyes light up before closing them and plucking out five pieces of parchment, handing them to you with glee.

Charlotte folded her arms over her knees, cheek resting against her arm. She watched your eyes water again at the notes she picked, making her bite her bottom lip. She didn’t want you to cry. She hated seeing you cry. Especially when it was over her father.

“Do you…” She started and met your eyes again, giving you a small smile in hopes of getting you to smile again. “Do you remember how you got all of them?”

"Of course, I do." You sent her a short grin and tucked pieces of her hair behind her ear, her brown eyes and red hair oh-so familiar to you. "I remember it all too well."

10/09/1993

“Weasley, you’re late to your own date.” You wave the parchment in his face and bite back a smile when he rolls his eyes and takes the note from you. “You said to meet you in the courtyard at exactly 3PM.”

Everyone had already left for Hogsmeade and you were left standing in the courtyard with the handmade scarf Mrs. Weasley made for you, the wind blowing it around. You weren’t actually upset with Fred, this happened more than once already, but he had time to serve with Filch whenever he pulled a stunt worse than usual.

“No, it says 3:30PM.” He tapped his wand on the parchment and sent you a lopsided grin, this time making you roll your eyes. “You look, Lupin.”

You took the note from his hands and read it out loud, giving him an exasperated look. He pulled you close by the waist, tilting his head down to meet your eyes. He loved the height difference you had with him, being a whole head shorter than him gave him lots of pun material.

“Wow, it says 3:30PM all of a sudden.” You tuck the parchment into your pocket and strain your neck to look at him. He still wore that smile you loved, making you push up on your toes to kiss him properly.

He grinned into the kiss and pressed his lips against yours multiple times until he was satisfied, adjusting the scarf you wore when he separated from you. You sigh softly and push locks of his red hair away from his eyes, meeting the beautiful brown eyes that you adored.

“Now did you actually leave on time? Or did you leave when Filch wasn’t looking?” You question him as you began the descent away from Hogwarts, careful to walk around the rocky terrain.

“I’m offended! Who do you think I am?” Fred laced his hand with yours and guided you safely around the trail to Hogsmeade, looking over yours clothes to insure you were dressed properly for the fall weather in Scotland. “Of course I left when Filch wasn’t looking.”

You smack his chest with the back of your hand and shake your head, not even a little surprised with the stunt he pulled. “Frederick Gideon Weasley.”

“What? I promised a date to the prettiest girl at Hogwarts.” He squeezed your hand before pulling you closer to him, looking around the area in confusion. “Speaking off, have you seen here? We were supposed to meet up at 3PM back at the courtyard.”

“I knew we were supposed to meet up a three, you prat!” You exclaim and smack him once more, making him laugh. He crookedly smiled, loving how you completely ignored his short jab to defend yourself about the right time you were supposed to meet.

Fred leaned down and pressed another kiss to your lips, effectively shutting you up. You let out a small noise before indulging him, placing a hand on his cheek before pulling away.

“That’s not fair.” You whisper to him, lips grazing his when you spoke. You peered down at his lips before back up to his eyes, smiling when you knew you got caught.

“Nothing’s ever fair, Lupin.” He murmured and smiled back at you, thumb softly tracing his initials into your covered hip.

You felt so much love from Fred — although it did take you years to finally agree to go on a date with him. Maybe it was to spite your dad when he began teaching at Hogwarts, but you truly loved Fred. You had known his family for far too long to ignore the heart that only beats for him.

12/25/1994

“Why is it we learned how to ballroom dance together only to ditch and sneak off to the kitchens?” You ask in a low voice, not wanting to break the calmness that fell over the both of you as you moved further and further away from the bustling Great Hall.

Your hands were laced behind your back as you walked beside Fred, letting the silence overtake after an overstimulating two hours at the Yule Ball. You weren’t even planning to go because you knew your social battery wouldn't be able to handle so many people in one room, but Fred convinced you to go with a simple heart-shaped piece of parchment.

“'Cause you needed a breather. I could see it in your eyes.” He nudged your shoulder gently before slipping his arm around your waist, letting you rest your head on his shoulder; The smell of lemon ginger cookies and firecrackers filling your senses from the suit jacket he wrapped around you earlier.

You smiled softly at his actions as he led you down toward the kitchens. He was everything you never knew you needed and it made your heart swell with so much love. You never wanted to leave his side.

Fred came to the conclusion that the elves loved you a lot more than him when you dismissed them with a bright smile. Whenever he and George visited during the midnight runs, they would always greet them. When you were with him and George, the elves would do anything you asked them to without any hesitation.

While you moved around the space to make a quick snack for the both of you, Fred simply admired you. He admired how beautiful you looked doing such a mundane task or how you would always click your heel whenever you were counting something. He was so in love that watching you just stand and cross your arms when the stove wasn't cooperating made he grin stupidly.

Before he realized what exactly he was doing, you sent him a confused look. "You haven't spoke in like—" You looked over to the wall clock, raising your brows in surprise. "Ten minutes. Are you okay?"

Fred hummed and pulled you to stand in front of him, his hands coming down to rest at the curve of your waist. “Can’t I admire how beautiful you look, Lupin?”

You squint your eyes at him and meet the brown eyes that have been staring at you for quite some time. Although he was bold most times, you saw how raw and genuine his words were.

“I mean, even without trying you just look,” Fred laced his hand with yours and slowly spun you around, breath catching when you faced him once more. He was so enamored with you — no spell was strong enough to break the enchantment. "Absolutely stunning."

You try hiding a smile that made its way onto your face, only settling into it when he moved to kiss your neck. You grasp the back of his shoulders and sigh softly, shutting your eyes briefly before he parted and smirked at your breathless look.

"I wanna marry you." Fred murmurs and thumbs your bottom lip, catching you give him your golden smile. "The only thing I want to do before I die is marry you."

You hum and rest your hands on his chest, fingers playing with his lapels. You wanted nothing more to marry the man in front of you. Every little thing he did was like painting a perfect picture, and you wanted to frame it forever and ever. He would be the only oath you were willing to take.

“Let’s dance for a little while.” He suggested as the muffled music coming from the Great Hall wandered into the kitchens, a slow song coming on at a perfect time. “There’s music and the candle light by the fridge.”

“Just us?" You ask almost like you needed the reassurance, watching him bow and take your hand like any waltz started. He clasped his hand with yours and began to take the calculated steps he learned only a few weeks ago.

“Just us.” He reassured you and snuck a kiss to your lips, earning an eye roll and lopsided grin.

Yeah, this was it for the both of you.

05/26/1996

Fred knew that you would be upset if you found out that him and George were planning on leaving Hogwarts without graduating. Especially since you were so keen on helping the both of them study for their N.E.W.T.S. He knew you wanted to graduate with him by your side, but what good would graduating from Hogwarts be if he and George had a plan that could be set in motion right now?

He was going to tell you a couple weeks ago, but you got so busy with studying for N.E.W.T.S. and ensuring you would get 'outstanding' in all subjects. So he decided to wait. Well, until you found the note he was planning to give you.

You were absolutely heartbroken. The entire day you wanted nothing to do with him, even sitting beside Angelina during potions just to avoid him. But he eventually found you sitting at the top of the astronomy tower, head resting on your knees and fingers playing with the gold necklace he got you the year before.

Guilt was eating Fred up from the inside out. Starting with his heart.

“Are you really leaving without graduating?” You murmured when you felt his body heat approach you, head still staring forward toward the forbidden forest.

Fred sighed and sat beside you, running his fingers through his hair. “The system isn’t working for us right now and—" Then he heard the sound that absolutely crushed him. He heard the hiccup that would soon become sobbing. "Lovey, what’s wrong?”

You were quick to bury your head in your arms. You knew Fred could read you like a book and anything you did now would trigger his different responses. When you sniffled, you knew it was game over.

“Okay, lovey, you're crying.” He pulled you around so that you were sitting in front of him and gently moved your arms away from your face, his own face falling at the way you look at him.

Your eyes were wet with tears, your lip was quivering, and it pained him to know he caused it. You wanted to tell him it wasn't his fault, but if you tried to speak, you would completely fall apart. Everything was stressing you out and the note just pushed you over the edge.

“You know I'll be at the station when you get back.” Fred murmured and tucked your hair behind your ears, listening to your uneven breaths. "I won't leave you forever."

You hiccup and turn your head, biting your bottom lip to help stabilize yourself. "I-I just thought we would have more t-time together before everything got s-so serious outside of Hogwarts."

Fred tilted his head and tried his best to meet your eyes, "But you know that's not the case, lovey. You'll be living with Georgie and I, and you know were aren't exactly the most serious people."

You let out a wet laugh and look down, fingers coming up to play with the infinity symbol on you necklace. Fred smiled softly at your laugh. At least he knew you weren't too terribly upset over the predicament.

“If I do w-well on my N.E.W.T.S, I'll be t-training full time as a h-healer.” You hiccup and trace the symbol over itself, still trying to calm down as best as you could. “And I know you two will run your business together most of the time. So I don't—”

“Lovey, look at me." Fred pleaded and lightly cupped your cheek, tilting your head so he could face you properly. "Nothing will ever come between you and me. You were in my past, currently living in my present, and you are indefinitely my future. You are my everything and I refuse to leave this spot until you give me that golden smile I love."

Your laugh softly and give him that golden smile, "I love you, Fred Weasley."

08/14/1997

Fred proposed to you a couple of months ago. It wasn’t anything too extravagant or crazy, but you definitely cried like a baby when he got down on one knee and revealed a gorgeous gold ring you swore cost more than how much the twins made a month. Flash forward, you were having a wedding at the Burrow surrounded by family and loved ones.

After vows were said and the most passionate kiss was exchanged, you and Fred were immediately separated. He was pulled to talk to family he didn't even know were family while you were stuck plastering a fake smile to Sirius and Remus who kept going on and on about how happy they were for you.

Eventually the both of you were able to get away, running away from your own reception like you would if you were still in Hogwarts. You laughed as you both made it to the edge of the forest, resting your head on his shoulder. Although you were both only nineteen, you knew that this would be forever.

“Do you think they'll realize the bride and groom are missing from their own wedding?” You let your laughter subside and following him wherever he was guiding you. Was it such a good idea to follow him blindly? Not really, but you trusted Fred. "Where are we going?"

“You’ll see.” He moved a hand to cover your eyes and helped you maneuver through the foliage.

It felt like an hour of just walking and constantly trying to peek through his hands until he stopped abruptly, causing you to stumble over your own heeled feet. He helped stabilize you before removing his hand, letting you look at the sight in front of you.

“Tada!”

The sight was drop dead gorgeous. Almost every single note he had ever wrote to you was floating around a cleared part of the forest, small wisps of light acting as your guide to each and every date. Your eyes were filled with tears as you went up to one of the earliest notes, the date going back to the first week of your first year at Hogwarts.

“When did you ever have the time to do this?” You murmured and looked around, hand coming up to play with your golden necklace, the same one he got you forever ago.

“I have six siblings, I can get them to do my bidding.” Fred shrugged and flicked his wand, the song from the Yule Ball playing in the background. From where you would never know. “Shall we dance, Mrs. Weasley?”

"We shall." You smile brightly and clasp your hands in his, letting him guide you through the same waltz. You squealed when he spun you around and fell into his arms, both of your gold rings flashing from the light. The rings that were a promise of love and happiness.

“Thank you.” You look up at him with so much love and sigh. He was now yours forever, bound by the vows you cried to.

He looked between your eyes and tilted his head, "For what, lovey?"

"Just for being yourself. Everything that you do is just..." You find no other way to express what the feeling was, racking your brain for a word but unable to fine the proper wording. You push up on your toes and kiss him silly, pulling away just as fast. "That's what it feels like."

Fred felt warmth coat his cheeks and neck, lowering his head so he was mere millimeters away from your face. “You love me.”

“I love you, yes.” You look down at his lips before looking back up to the brown eyes you fell in love with so many years ago. "That's why I married you, dummy."

"Good thing you did too, your dad was going to kill me if I just wasted all your time. You know how hard it was to convince your dad I actually love you?" Fred complained as he dipped you, smirking when you gasped at the sudden movement. He pressed a quick kiss to your lips before pulling you back up.

You furrow your brow before breaking out in laughter as you remember the memories of him trying to get the Remus Lupin to like him. “He’s not that hard to charm, Fred!”

“Considering it took me months to even get him on board of the idea of you marrying me, I don’t believe it.” Fred kept you close, swaying to the music that was now coming to an end.

“Whatever.” You press a kiss to his jaw. “I love you either way.”

04/25/1998

The entire day you've been a wreck. The note you held in your hands felt like a weight, and you wanted to toss it to Fred as fast as possible. Your nerves were killing you, slowly making you twitchy at every movement. You weren't sure how Fred would react to the news, but when you found out, you threw up. Well, you weren't sure if that was because you were scared or if it was morning sickness.

“Georgie, has Fred gone on break yet?” You wander down into the store and pick at your nails, narrowly avoiding two kids chasing each other throughout the store.

“Ah, not yet. He’s dealing with a particularly tough customer. I’ll send him up for you once he’s done though.” George sent you a sympathetic smile and flicked his wand, watching the stairs turn to help the kids return back to their parents.

His smile soon fell into a frown when he noticed how sick you were looking. He knew that you were pregnant, but it was well past the morning and you were sitting upstairs merely working on papers.

“What’s wrong?” He asked and put an arm around your shoulder, guiding you away from the crowds so there were no stragglers to listen in on the conversation.

You purse your lips and spin the golden ring adorning your left hand, head reeling at the thought of telling Fred about the pregnancy. “I’m telling him today.”

“Oo, yeah. Can’t wait to see the look on that wanker’s face.” George chuckled and earned a punch to the arm from you, causing him to recoil and glare.

“Hey!” You scold and place a hand over the lower half of your stomach. “You can’t say that anymore, there’s a child present!”

“Aw, you’re no fun anymore now that you’re married and becoming a mother.” George stuck his tongue out at you before sending you a reassuring smile and giving you a thumbs up. “Congratulations, you can do it."

You nodded and made your way back up to the flat above the store, pacing back and forth from the living room to the kitchen. The nerves were getting worse. The note soon became overly crinkled and you swore your socks were getting tarnished by how many times you frustratedly spun around on your heel.

By the time you thought your nerves were finally settling, Fred walked in with the smile you loved. Your emotions sky rocketed and you ran into his arms, burying your head in his neck while he supported you up by the back of your thighs.

"Did you miss me already?" He chuckled and pressed a kiss to your cheek, earning a quiet 'yes' from you. "Aw, lovey."

After a few seconds of practically gluing yourself to him, you finally pulled away and pressed a proper kiss to his lips. He smiled and thumbed the skin available to him. You hum and direct him toward the couch, pulling away only to giggle when he chased your lips. He sent you a joking pout, ready to protest when you shoved the note into his hands.

"What is this?" He unfolded the paper and stared at you with so much love you felt a cavity coming in. "Turning the tables on me? I— Fucking hell."

"Fred!" You smacked his chest before meeting his brown eyes, unsure of the emotion behind them. "So?"

"So what?" His grinned and tackled you onto the couch, peppering your face in kisses. "You're pregnant! I'll be a father!"

You laugh at the feeling of his kisses, "You're not mad?"

"Godric, how could I be mad at you? You're having my child!" Fred kissed you senselessly, free hand coming down to rest on your stomach. "We're going to be parents!"

"We're going to be parents." You say to him and cup his face, letting your stored tears free fall from joy. "You and me."

"Just us." Fred wiped away your tears and sighed, resting his forehead on yours. "Us and the little one."

05/02/1998

You promised Fred you would stay home today. You promised him. But he never promised he would return home to you, causing you to rush over to the Hogwarts as soon as possible. When you arrived, the war was already won, but you didn't care. You wanted to see your husband.

“Where is he?” You ask the first person you find, sighing in relief when you see the youngest Weasley. You excused yourself and ran over to her, grasping Ginny’s arm before seeing her solemn expression, making you internally panic. “Ginny, where is your brother?”

Although you never specified, she knew exactly who you were asking for. She bit her lip and pointed to where George was kneeling, burying her head in your shoulder. You felt your heart constrict as you held her closely, breath catching at the sight in front of you. Molly was wiping her own tears when she saw you, pulling her daughter away from you so you could see Fred yourself.

“No no no no no no.” You fall to your knees and catch your breath, looking at Fred through wet eyes. A sob threatened to escape your throat when you felt for his hand, the warmth of his hand now gone and replaced with cold. You choked on tears and let yourself cry, hiding your face in his shoulder.

You begged the universe for this to be a horrible joke that everyone was in on. That Fred was okay and well, only pretending to be dead.

"Freddie, please." You cry and clutch his hand tighter, feeling for the gold band that represented your everlasting love. "I need you to wake up, Weasley. I-I can't do this without you. How am I s-supposed to—" You choked on your words, sobbing once more. You couldn't even finish your sentences.

When you felt a pair of arms pull you away from Fred, reality hit you like a train wreck. You stumbled over your feet as you stared at his dead body. Fred Weasley was really gone.

"What happened?" You whisper and stare at Fred, tears still falling. You felt so helpless. You were a healer and there was nothing you could do. When no one answered you, you whipped around and stared at whoever carried you away, another sob threatening to spill over when you saw George. "What happened, George?"

“There was an explosion.” He whispered and pulled you into a hug, letting you cry for a second. He had his last moment with Fred, but you hadn't seen him in hours.

You sobbed and collapsed in his arms, cries ringing out into the Great Hall. The pain you felt was nothing like you ever experienced before. You did everything you could do try and deny it, but no matter what you thought of, the sight of his dead body seemed to appear.

“George, why are we at Hogwarts?” You huff and follow him into a restricted room.

You weren't even supposed to be at Hogwarts and somehow you were standing on the very grounds your heart shattered. Your daughter just started a few weeks ago, but George somehow convinced you to return and dragged you to a room you've never seen before.

George glanced down at you, noticing your distant gaze, like you weren't safe inside the building anymore. “Have you been to Hogwarts since the war?”

“No.” You purse your lips and push the thought of the war away, brows creasing when you see how clean and furbished the room was. “Why? I need to get going soon. My shift—"

“Just look.” He pointed toward one side of the room, revealing the little contents of the room.

You frowned when you looked over. There was nothing of interest. “I can see the Mirror of Erised and a covered portrait.”

“Pull the bloody cover off.” George rolled his eyes and crossed his arms, shaking his head when you stuck your tongue out at him.

“Okay, but I’m not looking at the mirror.” You sighed and covered your eyes when passing the mirror. When you stood in front of the portrait, you pulled the cover off and gave George an annoyed smile. “I don’t understand—" When he gestured for you to look back over, you rolled your eyes before gasping, dropping the cloth without realizing a piece of parchment was attached to the front of it. "Oh my, Fred Weasley.”

“Hi, lovey.” Fred winked at you, wearing that smirk you haven't seen in years. When he saw tears falling from your face, he frowned and seemingly reached out to you. “Why are you crying? Did George upset you?”

“No, in fact he made me happy.” You spoke through tears and wiped your tears, smiling sadly. “I get to see you again.”

Fred grinned again and clapped his hands. “It’s been forever since I saw you last, Lupin. Where were you?”

You furrow your brows and look at George in confusion. “Does he—?” George shook his head and handed you the parchment that fell. You quickly peeled it open and wiped your tears once more as you read the contents. "He made it for a prank he never committed to." You huff and shake your head before responding to Fred. “I’ve been out and about, Weasley.”

He tilted his head and scanned your figure up and down, confusion written all over his face. “It seems as if we have a predicament here.”

“And what is that?” You murmur and step closer to the portrait, not realizing George had left you alone to have a moment with Fred.

“I want to hug you, but the best I can do is talk.” Fred sent you a lopsided grin and blew a kiss at you, making you laugh.

“Seems like a big problem.” You nod in agreement and sigh, wrapping your arms around your midsection. “I’ll understand what you mean.”

“In that case, I’m giving you the biggest hug right now.” Fred spread his arms wide and pretended to give you a hug before his eyes caught the gold ring around your left hand. “Where’d you get the ring, lovey?”

“Uhm…” You look down and spin the ring, smiling down at the piece of jewelry. “I got it from you a bit ago.”

Fred beamed in joy before he flattened again, looking around like he could see past the frame. “Where am I?”

“Home.” You muster a smile and wipe a tear that managed to escape, hands shaking. “You’re at home with your mum and dad. Don’t worry though, they wanted to actually hang out with you.”

Fred scoffed and shook his head, “Still rude as ever, Lupin.”

“Not as bad as you, Weasley.” You laugh softly and hold back anymore tears, hands finding Fred’s adjacent ring hanging around your neck. “I miss you.”

“I’m right here, and I’m not going anywhere.”

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

[moontopuff]

YOU'VE CHOSEN: GEORGE WEASLEY

WHEN HE REALIZED HE LIKES YOU

I think he realized it on a normal evening, you were sitting in Gryffindor common room with twins; you on the couch, Fred on the armchair of course, and George sitting on a carpet in front of you. They were talking about their new invention; Fred mostly talked about the outcome of said thing and how testing was going, meanwhile, George was talking about how he came up with the idea. It wasn't much known in the Hogwart, but George was better at potions; better at making them and changing proportions to make something new.

you, of course, knew that, but you couldn't help but see that sometimes George was a little bit shy about his knowledge, as if it would make him a not good enough Weasley twin or something. Honestly, you couldn't know.

but, u didn't want him to feel any less because of this, so, you were listening intently to the origin story of making up this new thing, and when he ended you complimented him:

“Honestly, it’s all in the potion proportions!” George declared, his eyes lighting up as he spoke. You leaned closer, captivated, sensing the flicker of uncertainty in his voice. He always seemed to second-guess his brilliance, as if it might be too much for the room. “That’s so cool, George! You really know your stuff,” you said, breaking in as Fred rambled on about the grand plans for their next prank. “What if you added more of the—what was it—Gillyweed? Would it be more dangerous, or would it just go kaboom?” George blinked, taken aback by your enthusiasm, a shy smile creeping onto his face. His cheeks flushed a soft pink, and he rubbed the back of his neck, clearly not expecting your genuine interest. “Maybe both!” he replied, a hint of excitement in his voice. It was a quick reaction, and to mask the sudden warmth in his cheeks, he slid back into his usual, mischievous teasing self. “Ohh, should I expect you to get a crush on me now, for my incredible potion skills?” You rolled your eyes, laughter bubbling up. “Shut up, George!” you shot back, a playful smile on your lips. With a grin, you turned to Fred. “Now we know who the smarter twin is~” George’s laughter mingled with yours, as Fred pouted. As 'smarter' twin met your gaze and saw your smile, something shifted in him—a spark of something deeper, something new, and he wasn't just sure if he liked it or not

CRUSHING ON YOU:

he gives you sweet but joking-sounding compliments, wanting to make you smile/blush but not being obvious with it

started seeking your presence in every room; the great hall, classes, outside, or quidditch playground. He just wanted to see you, hoped to see you, and was over the moon when he actually saw you

after that one time you complimented his potion skills; every time twins show you their new invention he unconsciously seeks your compliment. He may not know this himself, but you realized it, after one time you didn't say anything about his role in the thing, and he looked like a pouting, sad puppy...

him actually beaming after you compliment him

sometimes, his eyes subconsciously drop to your lips when talking to you

George would start helping you carry your books to classes. He would reason it, that he's doing it for something else you did (u never have idea what he's talking about), but he just doesn't want to admit it yet.

his heartbeat faster every time you suddenly touch him or show him any affection. Of course, he hides it with his usual playful expression, but he leans in your touch, and just hopes you're obvious to that

when it's crowded in the hall, he likes to put his hand on the small of your back to make sure you don’t get separated. First time he did it, you were flustered as crazy, and he didn't even realize what he did until you were already in the class! When he realized, he just joked that it's because you're getting lost too easily, but do you really believe in that...?

Him getting flustered yet excited to see you cheering over him (and Fred) during Quidditch matches. When it's a hot moment you even call his twins names, and it helps his determination (he has to win for you)

teacher catching him gazing lovingly at you. Sometimes they just let it slide because *young love*, but sometimes they ask him what he's doing and he comes up with an excuse or just shrugs

He’d find himself staring at you even in the Great Hall, as everyone is eating, and isn't it quite something for one of the Gryffindors to stare lovingly at Hufflepuff table?

unconsciously starts talking and thinking more about you when you aren't around. Like, the classes you don't share together, and something happens and he's like "Y/N would scrunch her nose and giggle at that, I can just see it" or while you eat at your house table, and George casually starts talking about you to Fred and Jordan "Isn't she clumsy, lately? Nearly fall on her face while going today to the library!" not realizing his obvious puppy eyes.

George, being the more emotional twin, enjoys just being his calm, sometimes worried or serious self with you. He's happy that you don't only like him (and Fred) for being funny guys, but also like him when he's too tired or too worried of being a fun guy. He likes having emotional and serious conversations with you.

CONFESSING TO YOU

He didn't want to confess to you for the longest time, not because he's shy, but because he's insecure. He loves Fred more than anything, but he can't help but sometimes feel that people prefer him. And so, he was bloody terrified, that you would be just another person who would prefer his twin. And he couldn't hear you say it, because it would break him, he knew that.

so it wasn't until Fred finally decided to speak with him about matter. Encourage him, tell him that Geroge is your favourite twin and it's obvious to everyone. And after a few days of that, he finally confessed to you.

people would assume that being Weasley twin, George would be confident and confess with a boom, but no. At said time he felt like nervous wreck, feeling his palms sweating, and his tongue-tied as if hexed. Nonetheless, one evening, as you two were strolling through the school grounds, he finally confessed with a nervous smile.

And you? Well... You couldn't be happier.

YOUR RELATIONSHIP WITH HIM

simp, soft bf, pouting when you're annoyed at him

loves you to the moon and back

compliments you everyday, from general to very specific things

"You're the most beautiful person in the Great Hall.""That mole you have on [place] suits you well. I love it. Can I kiss it?"

after you two started dating, he started doing unconscious things, like fixing your clothes after hugging you or having out session, and also fixing your hair when the wind makes it all in your face. It's like breathing for him

Forehead kisses. holding hands always. back hugs at random times.

You were already comfortable with him as friend, but now, as you are with him, you feel that you can turn off your brain, and be hundred percent sure that he will make sure you will not get hurt.

he’ll never ever cross your boundaries (unless you want him too?)

he’s in touch with his emotions, so you’ve probably seen him cry and be furious a few times.

somehow you made a habit of napping on each other's shoulders. Sometimes even on each other's thighs...

he always lean into your touch, even when he's with his brother or friends. he would never be embarrassed of loving you

normally isn't easy to be flustered, but when it comes to you... well, let me tell you, that you have your ways of making his cheeks pink

as your bf he will sometimes do silly, gentleman things like; holding an open door for you, trying to stall stairs for you so u can make it on time, or leave some cute paper charms on your table.

will treat you like royalty you are

when you're too tired to get back to your own common room, he would give you a piggy back ride

pretty sure, he would give you massages when you're tired (in exchange for a kiss ;))

he wants to know even more about you

wanting to - somehow - be part of your hobby. For example; if u like reading, he would ask you to read out loud for him, or ask to borrow your fav book, so you would have a new share topic to talk about. And if you like make-up, he will gladly let you use himself as your model (and will be pretty serious if you ask him which look you did, he prefers!). And if you like sports/quidditch, he will train with you or be your biggest cheerleader. He just wants to support you.

so he may, or may not, make this invention especially for you (not for the prank, but to brighten your day and make you smile)

tickle fights

you wearing his jumpers, obv

holds your hand when anxious

now that you're together, he doesn't only stare lovingly at you at classes, but also holds your hand under the desk

cheering for him in every Quidditch game and even wearing his shirt to show your support (unless it's against Hufflepuff... then you're supporting both teams)

him showing off on his broom, making sure you're looking at him

him flying straight to you, after the end of the game (includes sweaty kisses)

your outside make-out sessions are often interrupted by curious animals coming closer to you (he's used to it, he knows that animals just like you, but can't they be curious when he doesn't have his tongue in your mouth??)

you stealing some food from Kitchens and bring it to your bf, when you know he's working on their new intention (he often forgets about eating)

him being surprised seeing you as if it was the first time, but tiredly grinning at you, giving you a quick kiss, and a strong hug, to keep himself going through the night

him grinning at you lovingly, as he's observing you naming the plant he gave you

if u have an allergy to something or just don't like specific food, he makes sure Molly knows it before he invites you to burrow. He may be a tricker but he knows when to hold himself, because he never wants to seriously hurt you or upset you

as his partner, you're making it to the stadium of Molly's favourite in-laws, placing you next to Harry & Hermione

overall, he loves you like crazy, you understand each other and support each other, love full of cuddles and emotional support

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

If you would like to read again how you met twins and how friendship with them looked like: [Click]

If you decided to change the twin: [Fred Weasley route]

[hooneeyydroops]

Thick thighs save lives

Fred G. Weasley x Reader

Paring: Bf!Fred Weasley x Thick thighs!Reader

Notes: A little suggestive? Starts steamy (definitely not a smut though) and ends with fluff. Established relationship. You’re insecure about you thighs.

Summary: You and Fred have been dating for three months now. As things get more and more steamy during a make out session you’ve found yourself being incredibly insecure about your body.

Word count: 1.1k

Enjoy!!

Three months have passed since you and Fred both confessed your feelings to each other during a cold winter day, near the warm fire of the gryffindor common room. Since then your relationship has been amazing, just like you had imagined it to be; Fred was usually very affectionate and wasn’t embarrassed of showing it in public. Whether it was random kisses on your forehead and cheeks or hugs from behind he was always showering you with affection. He was also a wonderful person to chat with, always making you laugh, telling you about some crazy prank he and George managed to pull out through their lives. It was truly a dream to be dating him. He was literally a sweetheart despite his prankster reputation.

You both were now sitting on his dorm’s bed, it was a cold afternoon, just like the day you had your first kiss when you both confessed. George, Lee and their other dorm member were out in Hogsmade for a butterbeer (or maybe a hot chocolate since it was so cold-), leaving the dorm all for Fred who, of course, decided to go and search for you so that the both of you could cuddle and chat in his bed with some privacy (which was a rare thing to have at Hogwarts).

You both were laying down on the bed, Fred’s head on your chest as you were playing with his ginger locs while rambling about your day.

“and so yeah, McGonagall took slytherin almost 20 po-“

you were telling him, but you soon got interrupted by Fred’s warm, soft lips, gently pecking yours.

“I love when you ramble about your days like this. I love hearing you talk…” He murmured softly, still close to your lips, just to then place them again on yours. Unlike the previous one (or, if you have to really admit it, the previous ones) this was more heated, it had more passion in it. As Fred’s sweet lips were on yours, gently nibbling your lower lip now and then, you felt his hands roaming your body, from your waist to your hips, then to your chest. You felt his tongue gently pushing inside your mouth, causing you to let out a breathy whimper, which earned from him a quiet groan. As you felt his tongue fighting with yours for dominance your focus went back on where his hands were. He was carefully massaging your chest with your clothes still on, the touch only making you let out some shaky breaths as your arms were wrapped around his neck, hands still playing with his hair.

He then decided to slide his hands under your shirt, immediately stopping as soon as he felt your muscles tense up a bit.

“Is this alright?” he asked, cheeks flushed as he was towering you , his eyes full of desire yet still the sweet ones you knew so well.

“Y-yes…” you replied, letting him take off your shirt, leaving you only in your bra. It was the first time he ever saw you without a shirt on and oh, the boy was stunned.

“…so pretty…” he whispered in your ear, sending shivers down your spine as he began to nibble your ear lobe. He then trailed warm, wet kisses from your ear to your neck, moving down to your shoulders. Little whimpers and moans were escaping your lips, as you were not used to this kind of intimacy.

“You sound so beautiful, you know that?” He said, sucking and biting down on your shoulder, earning once again more of those sweet noises you were making.

“Can I remove your pants?” He asks gently between a kiss and another, his hands on your thighs.

There was a moment of hesitation from you, which made him scrunch his face in a confused expression.

“If you don’t want to do it I’ll wait until you’re ready, you know that right?” He asked both of you sitting up as he had an arm around your neck, massaging your back in a comforting manner with his hand.

It wasn’t that thought, you were ready for it actually. You’ve been dreaming about it for a month by now, but something stopped you. Your insecurities were stopping you from letting that dream turn into reality.

You looked down as you started talking.

“It’s not that, Freddie…” you muttered “I really want to do it with you, alright? I really want to but…” and at that “but” you started massaging your thighs in circular motions with your palms, something you did when you were stressed. “I’m really insecure.” you finally managed to let out.

Confusion was still on Fred’s face as he began to think about your words. How could you ever be insecure? And about what?

“It’s alright if it’s your first time,sunshine” he says, tightening his grip around you.

“It’s not that…” you paused for a moment, taking a deep breath “I-it’s my thighs.”

There was a moment of silence as Fred got even more confused. Your thighs? Why? They looked more than fine to him.

“But…why?” He asked, his expression and tone a mix of concern and confusion.

“They’re like…really fat…I can’t even put shorts on without feeling ashamed about them jiggling when I walk…same with short skirts…even pants give me so much trouble since some types make my thighs look even bigger…” you muttered as you looked down at your big thighs. Although you had good eating habits and were really active your thighs were still massive. And it was something that made you go mad every time you looked at your reflection in the mirror.

“Hey” Fred said, his hand gently gripping your cheeks to make tou look up at him. “Look at me. Who said your thighs are fat?” He asked, still a bit of concern in his tone “they’re not” he said, his hand sliding on one of your things, gently massaging it. “They’re beautiful actually. Like very, very much attractive.” He said, his usual smirk creeping out on his face a few seconds after “they make you look bloody gorgeous sunshine~” he whispered, his face a few inches from yours. You felt yourself blush profusely from his words and the way he was sweetly yet sensually massaging your thigh, sometimes gripping at it. “Maybe I could teach you how to love them, what do you think about that, darling~?” He said after removing his arm from your neck, only to place his other hand on your other thigh. You felt your whole body burning at his words as you gently shook your head yes.

Let’s just say that you had spent an amazing afternoon.

And as you two walked out of his dorm to reach the great hall for dinner you definitely and finally felt more confident about your thick thighs.

[rottenherbs]

Matchmaker // pt.2 // F.W x reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: After your small escapade with Fred, you make your way to the Gryffindor common room to sort the papers and learn a little more about each other.  

Authors note: silly goofy chapter. Honestly I wasn’t going to write at all today, but I found some solace in it. I have to put my family cat down tomorrow and I’m like conflicted in my grief. SO I shall give the people what they want. Part three coming sometime soon —

[masterlist]

Much Love, Saige 

————————

The castle hallways were unsurprisingly empty. It was considerably late at night and most students were barred away in their dormitories; you two just barely made it to the common room before curfew was in place. On the way back you both joked about the romance between students and the stereotypes you find most in your clientele —

“I’d consider myself to be one of the hopeless romantic types.” Fred boasts, his hand on his chest, looking up to the air dramatically. You roll your eyes, both of you halting at the portrait of the fat lady. “But something tells me that you knew that already?” He wagged his eyebrows, nudging you playfully. Ignoring his gesture, you shake your head. 

“Mimbulus Mimbletonia”. The painting swung open, Fred again bowing and ushering you in first. 

”Alright alright, I get it, you’re a gentleman.” You laugh, stepping through the corridor. Fred scoffs, standing jokingly aghast before following you behind. Fred didn’t respond, just smiled to himself watching you walk through the common room.

 Looking around, he noticed it was quite vacant, happy at the prospect that you two could hang out together alone, no one to bother you. Turning to the warmth to his left, he eyed the coveted spots in front of the fireplace that were open for the taking. 

“Pst.” Fred pestered, getting your attention. He cocked his head towards the fireplace, walking over there himself. Plopping on the large couch, his legs spread wide taking up most of the sofa. You walked over, hesitating where you should sit. Contemplating the proximity you’d be comfortable being next to him, the idea of your thighs touching sent flutters through your stomach. Biting your lip lightly, you walked around to the front of the fire, setting your belongings on the floor. 

Fred watched you casually, a small ping of disappointment that you didn’t decide to sit next to him, but grateful that he now had a better view of you. 

Reaching into your book bag, you grabbed a conglomerate of papers, passing a few over to Fred. Outstretching his hand, your fingers grazed each other, the act was temporary and unimportant, but the feeling was everlasting. You released the papers, attempting in any way possible to hide the nervousness that suddenly overcame you.

Fred on the other hand was thrilled, the feeling only making him itch for more contact with you. He took the papers and laid them in his lap, flickering his gaze to you every so often, noticing how fidgety you suddenly became. 

“Alright, let’s see your knowledge on the student population eh?” You cleared your throat, breaking the silence. Fred nodded, shuffling through the papers, fanning them all in front of himself. 

“How do you remember all of this stuff, there has to be thousands of students at Hogwarts.” Fred chucked, suddenly becoming more aware that he in fact did not know the students like he bragged about just hours prior. 

“Actually its there is just over 975 this year.” You shrugged your shoulders. “But honestly, im just in a lot of clubs. Easy to know people's faces and learn about them.” You started 7 piles in front of you, one for each year. 

“Clubs? What clubs are you in.” Fred inquired, his eyebrows raising. He was surprised that you had time for anything outside of schoolwork and your little matchmaking busniess. 

“Um well.” You sat up, facing Fred more directly, thinking of where to start. You held out your hand, beginning to point at your fingers to keep track “Okay so Monday’s, Dueling club and Gobstones, Tuesday mornings there’s charms club before charms class, Dragon club after school. Wednesdays; Slugs and Bugs—“

”Slugs and Bugs?” 

“Yes. Slugs and bugs.” You laughed, looking down at your hands. “I’m running out of room and we're only on Wednesday.” You giggled, dropping your hands to your lap. Freds eyes were wide in amazement and disbelief. 

“That’s why I never see you around. You’re in seven places at once!” He attempted to remember all of the clubs you named off, but quickly gave up, soon realizing it was a lost cause. 

“Yeah i like to stay busy” You shrug, slightly embarrassed. You look back up at Fred, his face still bewildered; you could see the wheels turning in his head. 

“Sooo… What do you like to do?” You ask, bringing him back to reality. He set the papers down in his lap, not even attempting to sort them anymore.

”I suppose just quidditch.” He looked at you, slightly disappointed that his answer wasn’t as grand as yours. 

“Oh yes!! You're a beater right? Tough position if you ask me.” You exclaimed excitedly. You could sense a switch in his demeanor after you responded positivity, secretly enjoying the way his eyes lit up. 

”Yeah. Gotta be at least a little tough if you're getting hit with bludgers.” He raised both of his arms, flexing them dramatically. 

“Maybe you got hit in the head one too many times.” You chuckled, watching the cockiness in his face switch to utter surprise. “I’m kidding im kidding” You put your hands up in defense, laughing even harder. 

“Hey..you've got the brains I've got the brawn.” He laughed, knocking his knuckles against his head, imitating an empty chamber where his brain would be.

Fred relaxes back into the sofa watching you keel over in laughter. Something deep inside him fluttered at the sound of your laugh. The way it enveloped the room, the way it unconsciously made him smile wanting to join in. Something about you pulled him to you; and he loved it. After a little while you caught your breath, getting back to sorting the papers in front of you. Making great progress, Fred just watched you, his thoughts traveling to all corners of his mind; some innocent and some not. 

Watching you made his head spin, the way you sorted the papers, how your hands brushed the hair out of your face, your eyes glancing up at him every so often. His mind was racing. He’d pick up the papers, hiding his face behind the students trying to calm himself down. He wasn’t sure how fast it got out of hand, his body reacting to his thoughts now too far gone, he had to leave. 

Wringing his hands, he felt an overwhelming sense of heat in his body. His body rambling in inappropriate thoughts, mentally kicking himself for allowing him to think of you that way; at least this fast into knowing you. Getting up from his chair, he adjusted his trousers quickly, the movement completely unknown to you, turning and facing away from you,

“I’m hitting the loo! One moment—“ he rushed out of the room, leaving you by the fireplace alone. As Fred left the common room, he immediately shut himself into the bathroom, his face hot from embarrassment. He mentally begged any god or angel above that you didn’t see anything, stress overtaking him. Running the tap, he splashed cold water on his face, cupping his hands lightly and drinking to cool his system. Looking at himself in the mirror, he paused suddenly insecure.

“Get it together Weasley.” He thought to himself. He glanced at his watch wondering how long he had left you alone. Taking another look at himself in the mirror he felt satisfied with his appearance, the blood in his body now flowing with ease. Brushing his fingers through his hair, he set out to meet you again.

Once Fred was out of sight, you glanced around the common room. Huffing lightly, you looked over at his stack of papers on the couch, the students still jumbled together. Taking them back to your pile, you sit, holding them in your hands taking the opportunity to let your mind wander. You started to think about how he looked, how he listened to you so adimentqly. He wasn’t bored by your clubs or how strange you knew about every student in the castle. But mainly you thought about him.

How his body lazily draped over the couch, his long body slightly overtaking the space between you, but in a way that was inviting, and invigorating. He laid comfortably, the conversation between you two so natural. His muscular frame, no doubt from quidditch, even when he joked about his muscles you couldn’t help but noticed how they rippled below his uniform. It was undeniably attractive, the thoughts making you shiver. Shaking your head, you attempted to physically emit the contemplation of any mutual feelings of desire.

Were you jumping too far to conclusions?

[lovegoodlane]

Pursuing the Prefect - 6

5.5k words

18+ only

Warnings: sexual content, teasing, oral sex [m & f receiving], fingering, vaginal sex

Summary: Fred has a surprise in store for his favorite prefect (soft Fred, sub Fred?, dom Fred)

A/N: This is the final part. Thanks for being patient, figuring out how to end this was tricky. Be sure to check back for more fics soon, I will be working through my requests. Enjoy! <3

Link to part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5

——

The Winter Ball was quickly approaching, and students became more antsy as time went on. It was Tuesday, and the ball was scheduled for Saturday night. Almost no one could pay attention in their their classes this week.

You were in Potions, your favorite class of the day. The table groups were hard at work preparing ingredients to make an invisibility potion. Your job was to chop up the knotgrass, and your other table mates collected the remaining ingredients.

The tedious task of mincing up the knotgrass allowed your mind to wander. The past month with Fred had been quite memorable, and your thoughts were overtaken by images of him.

Fred had caught you on your Wednesday night prefect rounds, pulling you into an abandoned classroom. It took only seconds for his lips to crash into yours as he pushed you against the closed door of the room.

He pulled your robes off of your shoulders, tossing them onto a nearby desk. The corner of his mouth tilted up in a smirk, and you knew that you were in for it.

Fred took your hand, bringing you to the front of the room by the professor's desk. He kissed you one more time before gripping you by the hips and bending you over the desk.

"Can you see it now, birdie?" he asked, leaning down over you to talk into your ear. "When you're a professor, I can bend you over your desk anytime."

His hand ran up the back of your thigh, causing your whole body to erupt in a shiver. It took only moments for him to undo his belt and pull up your skirt.

Fred was thrusting into you, causing a whimper to fall from your lips. "Shhhh, little bird. Wouldn't want anyone to hear you, huh?" Fred whispered, gripping your waist with his hands.

You bit your lip, trying to keep any sounds from escaping. Fred grabbed at your hair, pulling it as he fucked you over the desk. 

You could feel your climax begin to grow, and you pushed your hips back into Fred to meet his pace. A choked groan came from your throat, and Fred reached around to put his hand over your mouth.

"Now what did I say, darling?" he scolded, increasing his pace even more. "Are you really so desperate for all of Hogwarts to hear you scream my name?"

Your hands gripped the edges of the desk, holding on for dear life. Fred could have simply cast a silencing charm, but where was the fun in that?

You were moments your orgasm, pinching your lips together to keep silent. Fred knew exactly what he was doing to you, and it was torturous. You were determined to hold it together until his thumb found your clit, marking your downfall.

"Anyone home?" Cedric asked, waving a hand in front of your face. You jolted out of your thoughts, embarrassed to be caught daydreaming. Your cheeks immediately turned a vibrant shade of red.

Cedric chuckled. "It's alright, no one can focus with the Winter Ball happening this week. Even Cho is distracted," he said, trying to reassure you. "Are you still going with Fred?"

You nodded. You had been looking forward to going to the ball with Fred. Ever since the Hufflepuff party and the initial shock to Hogwarts of your relationship, things had been pretty tame. It wasn't the explosion of gossip like you had been expecting.

Cedric pushed back his stool, getting up to peer over into the cauldron. The water was ready, all you needed was to add in the ingredients correctly.

"I might need to memorize how to make this for when I make Cho angry," Cedric joked, looking over at you. 

You chuckled, nodding your head in agreement. You knew her temper all too well. "I'm sure the twins will be picking my brain about the recipe. Godric knows what they would get up to with invisibility potions," you replied, measuring out the knotgrass. 

"So do you get to know the plans for the pranks beforehand now that you're with Fred?" Cedric asked, stirring the cauldron. 

"Not usually," you answered. "My policy with them is that the less I know about the trouble they get into, the better. I'm not afraid to take away House points when necessary, but I don't want to do it when it's the twins."

"I can't imagine how strange it must be to be a prefect dating the biggest troublemaker at Hogwarts, seems like a conflict of interest," Cedric commented playfully, raising his eyebrows at you. "But it seems like you two get on quite well despite your differences."

You titled your head in consideration. You hadn't thought about the 'conflict of interest' aspect, but who cares? You aren't the only prefect at the school. Someone else can shout at the twins for their misbehaviors. 

"Our differences keep things interesting," you said. "If Fred dated someone exactly like him, this school would go up in flames. Someone has to keep him in line."

You and Cedric chuckled, beginning to add ingredients into the cauldron. You felt a flutter of pride in your chest at the fact that Cedric picked up on how well you and Fred worked as a couple. You didn't worry yourself with the approval of others, but it was nice to hear it regardless.

——

You plopped your backpack onto the floor, joining Fred on the couch in the Gryffindor common room. It had become routine for you to visit Fred in the evenings after you finished your homework in the library. He was usually in the common room with his twin playing cards or planning their next prank.

"I heard that you made invisibility potions today," George commented from his place across the room. He was playing cards with Angelina and Lee.

"So what if we did?" you retorted. The advanced Potions class you were in had the opportunity to create more exciting potions that other students weren't allowed to. The invisibility potions were one of the recipes that was not taught to students outside of the class.

"I know a couple of people that could use some of those," Fred chimed in, slinging his arm around your shoulders on the couch.

"Would those people have red hair? Because I've heard that invisibility potions don't work on red heads," you replied, cocking a brow at Fred.

"You might be smart, but you're full of shit," George said, calling your bluff. 

You picked up a pillow from the couch and chucked it at him. He caught it with one hand right before it would have smacked him in the face.

"You seem to forget that Fred and I have quidditch reflexes," George said, eyeing his brother mischievously.

"Now!" Fred shouted, picking up another pillow from the couch. He began smacking you with it, and George got up from playing cards to join him. You laughed as the twins continued to hit you with the pillows, a completely harmless attack.

"Do you feel better now?" you asked between giggles. Being with Fred meant that you also began to spend more time with George. You had grown to adore Fred's twin, and it felt like he was your own brother. No one could make you laugh quite like the twins.

"Only a tad," Fred answered, taking the pillow from George so he could return to his card game. "Want to come up to my room?"

Fred tossed the pillows back onto the couch and offered you his hand. You smirked, taking his hand and standing up onto your feet.

George made kissing noises at the two of you, turning around in his chair and wrapping his arms around himself to simulate a make out. This earned a giggle from you.

"There's something called knocking, you git," Fred said to his brother, trying to hide his smile.

"There's also something called a silencing charm, you freak," George replied, now moaning in an attempt to imitate Fred and you. 

Your hand flew up to your mouth to try to stifle your laugh. George had a point. For some reason, Fred didn't like using silencing charms. He would prefer for everyone to hear the sounds that you made. 

Fred simply yanked your hand and dragged you up the stairs, huffing at his brother. He opened the door to his dormitory, motioning for you to enter.

You had become a regular visitor to his dorm, and he even let you borrow pajamas when you stayed over. Fred crossed to his dresser, pulling off his uniform and putting on a t shirt and pajama bottoms instead. He tossed a large jumper at you.

"Would you like to stay tonight?" he asked, making his way to sit on his bed. 

You held the jumper in your hands, weighing your options. You could either stay the night with Fred and risk being tired tomorrow, or sleep in your own room and miss out on this precious time with Fred. Your busy schedule meant that you didn't have much time alone together.

"I'm not sure yet," you replied honestly, beginning to take off your own uniform to put on the jumper. "You'll have me all weekend, so I should probably focus on studying and finishing assignments before the craziness of the ball."

Fred watched you, passively admiring your curves as you changed in the dim light of his dorm. He had seen you naked quite a few times by this point, but he still found himself star struck whenever you so much as showed an extra inch of skin. 

You finished changing, pulling the jumper on over just your knickers. It was long enough that it landed at your mid thigh, and Fred loved how you looked in his clothes. You knew that he was itching to get his hands on you.

"You could take a break from studying for a week," Fred said, settling onto his bed as he watched you. "New potions aren't going to invent themselves overnight. You can pick it up again next week."

You crossed the room to join Fred in his bed. You wrapped your arms around him, pressing your face into his chest as you cuddled up to him. He held you, stroking your back as you took a deep breath.

"I know, I just really want to get into an Upper School. My exams for the Potions programs are in January, there isn't much time left," you said, still squeezing him tight. You had really been feeling the pressure of your upcoming exams, and Fred knew it.

He tangled his fingers through your hair, kissing you on the head as he played with the long strands. Fred always knew how to put you at ease. 

"You never talk about your plans after Hogwarts," you stated, moving to prop your chin on his chest so you could look at him. 

"That's because I'm not sure that I have any yet," he said, shrugging. His parents had been breathing down his neck about this, so the topic of future plans felt pretty sore.

"They don't have to be perfect plans," you replied, reaching up to run your thumb along his jaw. "If you could do anything in the world, what would it be? No matter how outlandish. I'll tell you my fantasy future."

"You go first," he said, leaning into your touch. 

"If I could do anything, I would start a new wizarding school. It would have houses, but it would be nothing like Hogwarts. We would study Potions and Herbology, and instead of playing Quidditch students would compete in Wizard's Chess tournaments. It sounds dorky and there's really no need for another school, but I think it would be fun to create something like that," you said, rambling on. "What about you?"

Fred let out a breath. "George and I want to run our own joke shop. We could sell our creations and show other people how to pull pranks. It would never be successful, but George and I would love doing it."

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, looking into his eyes. "Freddie, that sounds amazing! You and George would be cracking at that, all of the students here would love to buy your joke items," you said excitedly, a smile on your face.

"Really?" Fred asked, his own smile starting to form.

"Really," you replied. "There's no one better than you two to open a shop like that. And you're both great at convincing people to do things, I'm sure those skills would translate well into sales."

"George and I have been dreaming about it for years. It's something that we would never get bored of," Fred said. "I've never told anyone about it before. Except for George, of course."

"I'm happy that you told me," you said, giving him a kiss on the lips. "You know that I believe in you. I would happily be your first customer."

"Just because you're pretty doesn't mean that you'd get a discount," Fred teased, tickling your side. 

You grabbed at his hand to stop the tickling, laughing at him. "Oh yeah? I'm sure I could find other ways to get a discount," you teased back, running your other hand up his chest.

"Maybe you should give a demonstration," Fred replied, smirking at you as he grabbed your hips and placed you on top of him.

——

It was finally Friday, and everyone was buzzing about the ball tomorrow night. You had managed to make it through the rest of the week without too many distractions, and you were caught up enough on homework that you could give Fred your undivided attention this weekend.

You were eating dinner with your friends, tucking into your dessert chatting about the ball. Beatrice had been rambling on about her dress even though she had already showed it to you several times.

"It's the perfect shade for my skin tone," Beatrice said. "Oliver won't be able to keep his hands off of me."

"We get it, Bea, we've seen your dress about 100 times," Cho said, taking another bite of her pudding. 

"But with my makeup and hair done, it'll look completely different," Bea said, looking for a reason to continue talking about her dress.

You were excited about your own dress. It was a maroon color with a frilly skirt. It was relatively simple, but it still made you feel beautiful. You couldn't wait for Fred to see it.

A paper butterfly floated its way over to your table, landing neatly next to your plate. You and your friends looked at each other in confusion for a moment until you picked it up and unfolded it.

Meet me in my dorm after dinner.

You knew it was from Fred. You looked up, scanning the faces of the other students in the hopes of finding Fred. You were unsuccessful, and instead folded up the note and put it into the pocket of your robes.

"What's that about?" Bea asked, propping her elbows on the table as she looked at you.

"Fred wants me to meet him after dinner," you answered, playing with the crust of the pie that was on your plate.

"He always has to be dramatic about it, doesn't he?" Cho pointed out. "Cedric should take notes, he could learn a thing or two from Fred."

The three of you giggled. Cho rarely said a kind word about Fred, but he was growing on her. He had that effect on people.

——

You made your way up the stairs towards Fred's dormitory. You were nervous for some reason, but you couldn't really understand why. You had been to his room countless times, but he didn't usually invite you over by sending a paper butterfly at dinner. It seemed like he was up to something.

You knocked on the door, fiddling with your fingers that you had clasped in front of you. A few seconds passed until Fred opened the door, a wide grin on his face.

"Close your eyes," he said, putting his hands over your eyes as he pulled you into the room.

"What in Godric's name are you up to now, Freddie?" you asked as he led you through the room.

"You'll find out in a second," he replied, bringing you to the bed. "Sit down."

You obliged, sitting down onto his bed. You heard papers rustling, and you were tempted to open your eyes. But you knew that Fred wanted whatever this was to be a surprise, so you obediently kept them closed.

"You can open them now," Fred said, sitting on the bed next to you. 

You opened your eyes, taking in the room before you. Fred had lit numerous candles and spread rose pedals around the room. It was like a scene from a romantic novel. It was cheesy, but you loved it.

You looked around, noticing that Fred had strung something up on the walls. "You should start from this end and work to the right," Fred said, directing you toward the door.

All around the room were sketches of you. The first was a sketch of your frustrated face. Your hair was braided, and you assumed that the sketch was of your confrontation in the courtyard.

The next was you in the Quidditch stands. Then you on your back on Fred's bed, his head between your legs. Your side profile as you looked out from the astronomy tower. Slow dancing to the record player. The first time you had butter beers with him and his friends at the Three Broomsticks.

You couldn't stop the tears that were rolling down your cheeks. Your hand was covering your mouth that was agape in absolute disbelief. Fred had chronicled your relationship in sketches. You had no idea that he was this talented.

The sketches continued in order along the walls of his room, and you didn't turn to him until you had looked at every last one. You finally looked at Fred. A soft smile was on his lips, and his eyes looked like they were shining. He had that look that he gave you once in a while that you were never quite able to place.

Fred closed the space between you, wiping the tears from your cheeks. He took your hands into his.

"Birdie....I don't even know where to start," he let out a chuckle, obviously a bit nervous. "I realized that I never asked you to be my girlfriend. We both kind of just assumed that we were together, but I wanted to be sure."

You giggled at him. He was right. You had never explicitly spoken about being together, it was something that fell into place naturally. 

"So I'm finally going to ask. Will you be my girlfriend?" Fred asked. 

"Of course I will, Freddie," you said, reaching up to wrap your arms around his neck. You kissed him on the lips, your cheeks still wet with tears.

"I'm not done yet," Fred said, pulling out of the kiss. He took your hand, walking you back to the bed. He sat down, motioning for you to join him.

"You and I have known each other ever since we got to Hogwarts. I always thought that you were cute, but your nose was so far into your books that I never tried to get to know you," Fred said, still holding your hand. "I have learned so much about you in these past few months. It has made me wonder how I ever was able to live without you before, how I could walk past you in the halls every day and not kiss you. I was missing out on so much, and I had no idea. But now I know you, and I also know that I'm in love with you."

Fred paused to take a breath. Tears continued to roll down your cheeks as you watched him in silence.

"I know that your last experience with love might not have been what you wanted it to be, but this is going to be different. Because I will spend every day making sure that you know that I love you. I will support you and your dreams. If that means you have to spend hours in the library and don't have as much time for me, I still support you. There is no one in the world who is as smart as you, as ambitious as you, as kind-hearted, patient, caring...I could go on for ages," Fred squeezed your hand, looking into your eyes. "I don't know a lot of things, but I do know for sure that I am in love with you. And I need you to know that. You are my weakness, and I think you have learned how to exploit that."

Fred gently poked at your side, trying to get you to laugh. A choked giggle came out of your mouth as you tried to wipe your tears.

"Darling, why are you crying?" Fred asked, his voice gentle. It was like he was afraid you were going to break like a piece of glass.

"This is just....I never expected this," you replied, taking breaths to try to gather yourself. "I don't know how else to respond to a gesture like this."

Fred squeezed your hand again, using his other hand to wipe a tear from your cheek. "Birdie, this is what you deserve."

You breathed out. You had been trying to remind yourself that you deserve good things. That you work hard and deserve success. That you are a good friend and deserve for that to be reciprocated. Fred somehow knew all of your insecurities and exactly how to make them vanish.

"Fred, this is....." you started, left speechless for a moment. "I love you too."

Your hands found his cheeks, taking his face into your hands. You kissed him, a sweet kiss that you hoped conveyed how much you loved him.

"How long have you known?" you asked, pulling back so you could look him in the eye.

"Known what?" he replied, finding your hand again and taking it into his.

"How long have you known that you loved me?" you said, rubbing the back of his hand with your thumb.

Fred looked down for a moment as he considered your question. "The astronomy tower. I think that's when I knew, I just didn't want to admit it yet," he answered.

Your eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Wow...that was a long time ago," you said.

"Birdie, you are the only person who challenges me. Who always sees the best in me. You believe in me without a question. And you have been that way since the beginning. How could I not fall in love with you?"

You leaned in to kiss him again, this time biting at his bottom lip. Your hands found his hair, and he pulled you onto his lap. 

"You are so sentimental and I love you for it," you said, stroking his cheek. He smiled at you, kissing you once more. 

His kisses wandered from your mouth to your jaw down to your neck. Your hands were busy in his hair, pulling at it as he nipped at your sensitive skin. You leaned your head back, giving him full access to your neck. 

He undid your tie, tossing it to the side before working on the buttons of your shirt. 

"Someone seems impatient," you teased, scratching at his scalp with your nails. You were usually the one who pushed things along. Fred was willing to be patient for the sake of your comfort. 

"I've been dying to make love to you," he replied between kisses, now biting along your collar bone. He had already finished with the buttons of your shirt, and he waited for you to pull it off your shoulders.

You obliged, discarding your shirt so Fred could continue his trail of kisses. He stood up from the bed, picking you up for a moment before placing you on your back in the center of the bed. You opened your legs, and he slid between them so he could plant another kiss on your mouth.

He made quick work of your skirt, and soon you were left in only your undergarments on his bed. 

"What a view," he said, grinning at you as he moved to take off his own shirt and tie.

"Take a picture, it'll last longer," you teased at him.

"That's what the sketches are for," he said, already taking off his pants.

Fred came forward to kiss your lips again, your legs wrapping around his middle. His hands ghosted along your ribcage, wandering around to your back so he could unclasp your bra. 

You slid your bra straps down your arms, dropping it onto the floor next to the bed. Fred left hot kisses from your lips all the way down between your boobs. Your back was already arching off of the mattress, begging for more.

"I want to take my time with you tonight," he said between kisses, sucking a nipple into his mouth. You moaned in reply, hands flying to his hair.

He worked your other nipple with his fingers, eventually moving his mouth to give the other a turn. His searing kisses trailed down your stomach, stopping just above your navel. 

Fred's fingers played with the edge of your knickers, tickling along your hip bone. "May I?" he asked, looking up at you from his position between your legs.

"Yes. Please," you answered, your nails scratching along his muscular shoulders.

Fred pulled down your knickers, dropping them onto the floor. He kissed the side of your knee, working his way down your thighs toward your center.

"So gorgeous. Such a perfect girl," he mumbled, leaving love bites on your inner thighs. 

His hand hooked behind your knee, pushing it closer to your chest. His mouth migrated from your thighs to your hip bone, leaving kisses along your lower belly. 

One hand came down to your center while his other propped him up on the bed. His thumb found your clit, slowly working a circular pattern onto it. He still kissed along your belly, making you writhe with anticipation.

Fred dove one long finger into your opening, making you whimper. He was taking his time just like he said he would, but it was driving you insane. 

He was finally gracious enough to move his mouth down to your core, teasing your clit with the tip of his tongue. His finger still worked in and out of your opening, causing you to grip at Fred's hair. 

He picked up his pace, sucking your clit into his mouth as he added another finger into you. You were moaning his name, pulling at his hair as he pleasured you. 

You were so close to your release. Fred knew your body well enough that he could tell that you were close, so he continued exactly as he was. In his mind, you two were just getting started.

You finally reached your high, arching off of the bed as you pulled on a fistful of fiery hair. Fred eased you down, leaving gentle kisses on your thighs before moving to kiss you on the lips. 

"I love you," he said, brushing your nose with his as he looked into your eyes.

"I love you too," you replied, still catching your breath after your orgasm. The moment was sweet and endearing, but you wanted more.

You reached for Fred's waistband, raising your eyebrows at him suggestively. "I'm going to be on top this time, pretty boy," you said, a smirk creeping across your mouth.

Fred's face lit up. He had always taken control during sex, but he wasn't upset about this change. You were nervous about being on top; you had never tried it before. But tonight felt like the right time.

You switched positions on the bed, with Fred laying on his back. You straddled him, and Fred sat up and kissed along your collarbone and shoulders. 

"I think you were made for me," he said between kisses. His words made a shiver run down your spine.

He was straining against the fabric of his underwear, and you knew exactly how to help him. You pushed his shoulders back, forcing him to lay down onto the bed.

"What do you want, Freddie?" you asked, trying to make your voice sound sweet and innocent.

"Anything," he answered, running his hands along your hips. He wanted to take his time, but he was starting to get desperate. 

"Hmmmm...I'll have to decide for you then," you said, tracing your nails down his chest. Your fingers landed at the edge of his boxers, toying with it.

You could feel Fred shiver beneath your touch. A smirk spread across your lips. Having this power over him felt addictive. 

You pulled at his boxers, taking them all the way down his legs and tossing them onto the floor. You kissed along his abs while one hand reached down to grip him.

Fred sucked in a breath. He had been anticipating your touch. You continued your kisses down to his hip bones, working him with your hand.

You peered up at him. His mouth was open slightly, and his pupils were dark. You had him right where you wanted him.

"Do you want something?" you asked, blinking at him through your eyelashes. 

"I...your mouth," he said, stuttering a bit. He was flustered.

You brought your trail of kisses down further, and you dared to dart out your tongue to tease his tip. He shuddered in response.

You had enough of teasing him. At least for now. You took him into your mouth, still using your hand to work the rest of him that didn't fit. Fred groaned, his hands finding your hair.

"Fuck, birdie. Feels so good," he said, watching you as you worked him deeper into your throat. 

You could feel his muscles tensing, but you didn't want him to finish like this. You pulled your mouth off of him, propping yourself up with your hands on his thighs.

"I couldn't let you finish like that, Freddie," you said, your voice soft. "I know what you want. You just need to beg for it."

Fred huffed. "Beg?" he asked in disbelief. This sounded like the kind of thing that he usually did to you. 

"It's your turn to be desperate. Or we could stop, that's alright too," you replied, taking your hands off of his thighs. You started as if you were going to get off the bed, but he grabbed your wrist.

"Please," he said, his eyes boring into yours.

"Oh Freddie, you know you can do better than that. So insincere," you teased, running your nails up his thighs.

You moved so you were straddling his middle. You played with his hair, looking down at him. He was stubborn, not wanting to give in to you. But he also wanted you, and that meant that he would have to play along.

"Birdie, please. I need you," he whined, bringing his hands to your hips.

"I know," you replied, grinning at him. His eyes were pleading with you. You had to give in to him.

You pushed your hips back, using your hand to find him. He still held on to your hips as you aligned him with your entrance, slowly working yourself down onto him.

Fred breathed out, gripping onto your hips harder. You supported yourself with your hands on his chest, trying to find a comfortable pace. You had never been on top before, so this was unfamiliar territory. 

Fred's hands slid up to your sides. He pulled you forward, kissing your lips. You kissed him back, your hands now propped on either side of his head. You moved your hips up and down, still feeling a bit unsure of what to do.

Fred's lips moved to your ear. "Would you like some help, darling?" he whispered.

"Please," you replied, letting out an embarrassed chuckle. 

Fred took back some control, using his own hips to meet yours. You increased your pace, meaning that Fred also increased his.

You pulled yourself back up, putting your hands on his chest once again. He grabbed your hips, moving you up and down to match his rhythm.

"Fuck, Freddie. Just like that," you cried, digging your nails into his chest. 

He continued like this, bringing a hand down to your center. His thumb found your clit, working it as you rode him. You let out a whine, feeling overwhelmed by the pleasure. 

"So good for me, birdie. Such a good girl," he praised. "Are you going to finish for me?"

You moaned as he increased the pace once more. You were close to your finish, but you wanted him to finish too.

"Not until you finish for me," you managed to say between moans. He had you on the brink.

"I'm close, darling. So close," he replied, digging his hand into your hip.

Fred continued, and soon enough you were crying out. "Freddie, so good. Don't stop."

You reached your orgasm, maintaining Fred's brutal pace so he could reach his own. It only took a few more moments.

"Fuck, that's it, birdie," he said as he finished, his hips stuttering into you. You both slowed your hips, and you collapsed onto his chest.

You were both breathing hard and sweaty. You stayed on top of him, burrowing your face into the crook of his neck.

"That was...." Fred started, chuckling. "You never cease to amaze me."

You picked up your head, exhausted from your effort. "I aim to please," you replied, shooting a wink at him.

Fred chuckled again. "You sure do," he said. 

[lushaletta]

I have a question??? Could you do Fred Weasley x older sister Potter reader who's he's friends with and like headcanons of their relationship please and thank you

in good hands / fred weasley

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

content: mild swearing, older sister potter!reader

summary: being harry potter’s older sister is difficult. you hate watching your little brother get hurt both physically and emotionally, but fred happens to be a great protector.

a/n: MY FRED WEASLEY DEBUT!! george is my fav but fred is so arghghghgh hot. anywayyyy tysm for this request and i’m sorry i didn’t follow it to a t!! i was originally gonna do headcanons as requested but i kinda got in the zone… i do kinda like this pairing though so i may end up doing hcs eventually anyway! also my bad for this taking FOREVER i’ve been madly busy… love u folks

⋆ ࣪.  ⁺⑅ ⋰˚ *.ﾟ .˳⁺⁎˚ ˚⁎⁺˳ . ༺ ˖࣪ ˖࣪ ∗

Harry comes running into your room, soaked with both rain water and agitation. His broom is immediately tossed to the side and you can’t help but be concerned— you have a feeling you know what this is going to be about, and it’s not the first time.

“Harry?”

“So sick of it! I only try to help, you know? To make things better and no one ever gives a fuck! No gratitude or even kindness, after everything I’ve done.” Your face softens as he inches towards you, even being careful not to get your bed wet with his clothing.

“They’re still mad at you for losing the game? Are you serious?” You’re completely furious. Harry’s had the world on his shoulders since forever and his entire life is a tragedy. He can’t even play a school sport without being reamed for something that’s hardly his fault.

Peeling his jersey off, he crawls into your side and waits for your affection; the only thing he can count on when the world isn’t on his side.

“I tried to fix things, you know? Told Fletcher I was sorry but they’re still pissed, calling me a freak and saying all this crap about Voldemort.” You shush him and cradle his face in your arms. Your heart is breaking because how could anyone treat your baby brother like this, how could anyone see him as something less than precious?

His eyes shimmer but not with the sparkle of joy. They’re teary. “Fuck ‘em all. They’ll come around, Harry. They do eventually.”

It’s not fair what they do to him. He’ll mess something up and half the time it’s out of his control, and suddenly he’s public enemy number one. You’re usually there to help, and so are his friends like Hermione and Ron, but it can’t always be like this.

He’s okay after a while. You amp up the jokes and ruffle his hair and he’s okay. He has dinner with his group and you with yours. It’s a nice evening and all you can do is hope he’s forgetting everything wrong with the world. It seems like he is, because he’s tossing peanuts in the air and catching them in his mouth while Ron is laughing hysterically and Hermione is resting her hand on a judgemental expression.

“Oi, Weasley!” you say, and Fred whips his head towards you. “I’ve got something to ask. A favour.”

He perks up. You were asking him for a favour. He’s been waiting for his in since forever, but he wouldn’t let you know that. “Yeah?” he replies, taking a sip of pumpkin juice.

A quick breath escapes your lips as you lean on him, lashes fluttering and a little grin settled on your face. He can look at you trying to be all persuasive without blushing. He’s stronger than this.

“How about.. you and George look after Harry? I’ve been worried about him, with the whole dementor thing. And after what happened last game, I can’t just sit from the stands and watch him get injured again knowing I didn’t do anything about it. Everyone’s pissed at him.”

Fred softens. His mind races, trying to come up with the cons of the request. He comes up empty. This was an excuse to talk to you more and, well, he already quite liked Harry, so that was no issue. And with your convincing doe eyes, how could he refuse?

He’s taking too long to respond and he knows it, but he can’t stop staring at your pretty face. You clear your throat, prodding for an answer. “Huh? Oh, yeah. The lad’s gonna be in good hands, m’lady,” he winks.

The roll of your eyes makes him smile. “Better make sure of it, Weasley.”

And to shut you up, he shoves a grape between your lips and you smack him across the arm.

From then on, Fred and George made sure no one got in Harry’s way. Someone messed with him, they messed with them. The twins were 190 and a half centimetres of beater strength and poking the bear was on no one’s to-do list, so Harry was pretty much set. Well, not entirely.

All Harry really wants to do is sit down and catch up on the pile of homework he’s missed for Chosen One duties, but some people take that as being haughty.

“Potter. You and your godforesaken hero complex. You think you’re untouchable? What’ll happen if I sock you in the face, huh? You think magic will—“

“Fuck around and find out.”

Finnick Lewis turns around. He immediately backtracks. “Hey, listen, man, I don’t want any trouble.” Fred didn’t miss the nasty glare that Lewis sent Harry on his way out. He’d take care of that one later.

The boy doesn’t really know what’s just happened or why, but he’ll take whatever he can get and he’ll be grateful for it. He mumbles out a thank you before scrambling to his room.

You’d seen Fred’s effort in protecting your brother. He’d done a damn good job at it too, because Harry hadn’t complained much about students in weeks. You’re glad you at least took that load off his shoulders.

“Tell you what, Weasley,” you say nonchalantly, unwrapping a chocolate.

He hums. It’s a lazy Sunday afternoon and he’s trying to finish up an essay. Lupin likes him just fine, but he’s definitely a tough grader.

“If you can make sure Harry’s perfectly uninjured after the next game, I’ll give you a kiss.”

Who cares about Lupin? Fred looks up at you instantly, suddenly feeling the velvet of the chair on his skin. “I’ll totally bite. How many seconds?”

You snort. “The kiss?” He nods. “3 seconds. 5 if I’m feeling generous.”

The essay is forgotten just like that.

The man moved the moon and sun to ensure Harry’s safety on his watch. Lewis and Fletcher had their tails between their legs after a few careful threats and actions to back them up, and Harry felt good. Safe. That’s all that mattered.

Monday arrives and the Quidditch stands are a sea of red and green with Gryffindor particularly antsy as Harry zooms around the pitch, Golden Snitch right within his view but not quite arms reach.

“Potter’s got his eye on the prize! I’ve got mine on too, Johnson looks impeccable in robes, I’ll tell you that much— Sorry, Professor.”

Fred’s holding his own, watching out for any foul play from the Slytherin Seeker whilst batting Bludgers. George is at his side, throwing them out and scoring right into Flint’s stomach.

“Wonderful play from Weasley! Not quite sure which one, but great nonetheless,” Lee says through the megaphone.

Fred’s just about to hit a Bludger into the opposing Keeper’s side, but he spots Harry in the corner of his eye being tailed by Higgs and there’s a nasty Slytherin Bludger coming right for him and he’s flying there immediately.

Harry’s so pumped with adrenaline and focus on the Snitch, he doesn’t even notice the ball coming straight to his nose. Godric knows that would leave a mark. Fred comes up and bats it away, nearly falling off his broom.

You’re watching from the stands in admiration and excitement and Fred can’t help but find you in the crowd. He sends you a wink from the pitch and a girl beside you seems to think it’s for her. You let it happen. You know who it belonged to.

Gryffindor emerges victorious, winning by two points and Harry’s crowd surfing, a big smile on his face as students chant his name. He doesn’t know how long the fame will last, but he doesn’t really care.

“You did good, Weasley,” you admit as Fred comes up beside you.

“Think I deserve my kiss now?”

In typical you fashion, you roll your eyes and pull him towards your face.

He thinks the kiss will be haste, but you melt into his lips and he does the very same. His arms snake around your waist and bring you impossibly closer and you relish in it. It’s embarrassing how much you’re grinning, but you can feel his smile too.

Catching your breath, “That was like 30 seconds. Now you gotta help Harry with his homework.”

[allthesmutl0vers]

Managing Mischief: Weasley Twins x Fem!Reader (Part Seven)

MDNI, NSFW, 18+ Masterlist Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader x George Weasley TW: Mentions of ED, Oral Sex (M! and F! Receiving and giving), Just general fluff, and Ron who makes you facepalm yourself. 🤦🏻‍♀️ A/N: I am so sorry it took me so long to update this! I'm re-writing this story and the chapters are long af, and just a mess. (This was my first ever fic from like 2 years ago on Wattpad.) I solemnly swear that I will update this more. Tag: @helendeath @ the anon who asked where this was. Please reblog and/ or comment if you like the story, as they help me stay motivated to keep writing 💜🥹

Chapter Seven

Fred

Looking at y/n sitting next to me, talking to our friends, makes my heart pound. She’s so goddamn beautiful. I just wish we could make her see it for herself. George and I have tried to come up with reasons why she doesn’t eat when we’re alone, but we can’t seem to find one. We notice the weight loss. We were the first ones to notice it. At first, we thought she just wanted to slim down a bit, not that she ever needed to. 

But now? She’s so tiny that her ribs are poking out, and that can’t be healthy. What really worries us though, is when she gets so lightheaded she almost faints and has to sit down. Neither of us cares how much she weighs. We never did. We just want her to be healthy and happy. She will always be the most beautiful girl in the world to us, no matter her size. 

I’ve never been into Angelina. She’s a good mate and a fair chaser, but nothing more. The way that y/n got so defensive and chewed her out, though? Fuck, my dick swells just at the thought of it. Not to mention the way she blew up at Malfoy, calling out about having a shitty dick. That made my heart soar and almost cripple me with laughter. 

But what really got my attention? The way she said that she screams my and George’s names. I can only imagine what that’d be like, what it will be like. I squeeze her leg a little tighter, and she looks up at me with those beautiful brown eyes that I just want to fall into and never come out of. 

She gives me a curious look, and I lean down to whisper in her ear. “So, you scream our names, hm, little one?” I ask her softly and feel her shudder and clench her thighs under my grip. I love the way she reacts to my touch and my words. 

“Maybe,” she whispers back and softly whimpers. Biting her lip when I slide my hand further up her skirt. Fuck, I love the little sounds she makes. Every single one of them goes straight to my cock. I lick my bottom lip as George grabs her attention as we pull into the train station. 

George

I’ve seen y/n pissed off before, but her yelling at Angelina and Katie was something else. Something something much sexier. I’ve never given Katie so much as half a glance outside of quidditch practice, and during games, I’m focused on the game. At most just keeping people from getting bloodied up too bad. But I’m fairly certain she would’ve killed them if Harry hadn’t stepped in. 

I could’ve destroyed Draco on the spot when he asked to have a moment with her. But this girl, with her tiny little hands and fingers, stopped me instantly. She ate him up, spit him back out, and I’m pretty sure she made him cry. And he deserved every last bit of it. I don’t know what made him think it was a good idea to try to talk to her, alone for that matter. Did Blaise not tell him we’re together? Oh well, the whole school is going to find out sooner or later, and I can’t fucking wait. 

The only thing that really worries me is her eating habits or lack thereof. We haven’t really found the right time to talk to her about it, but we talk to each other about it. Fred thinks it’s just stress, but I think it could be an eating disorder. She’s losing weight so fast, and she’s so light that now I can lift her and swing her around with one arm without breaking a sweat. For Merlin’s sake, my trunk is heavier than she is. It scares the living daylights out of me when she almost faints. We can’t lose her. I can’t lose her. I wouldn’t survive it. 

My attention is drawn to her thighs clenching under my hand, and I look over to see Fred, no doubt whispering some dirty shit in her ear. She thinks she’s going to win whatever little game she is playing, and she just might. I want to get down on my knees and serve her every single chance I get. I haven’t even tasted her pussy yet, and I’m fucking addicted. 

I see her pull away slightly from Fred and take the opportunity to grip her chin and force her to look at me so I can whisper my dirty shit in her ear. She leans in with those perfect, supple lips and I fight the urge to just kiss her instead. But I hold back, whispering into her ear instead, smelling the strawberry conditioner in her hair. “We may be going to a feast, baby, but I’m going to eat you out like it’s my last fucking meal,” I hear her gasp softly and feel her thighs clench together even more, rubbing her legs together like she’s searching for some kind of friction. I kiss her as we pull into the train station, and she stands up to follow Fred out of the compartment with me right behind her. 

Y/n

I take Fred’s hand as I slide out of the booth. My panties are fucking soaked. This is going to be a long dinner, and the sorting ceremony feast is always long. As we we off the train, Fred and George go ahead of me, and each helps me down, taking my hands in theirs. We walk with our friends, everyone holding hands with who they’re now officially dating as we walk to the castle as the sun begins to set. 

We’re all some of the last people to enter the great hall. I can’t help but feel anxious with so many people staring at me, Fred and George. They sense it, though, and grip my hands tighter as they walk me to the Gryffindor table, and we take our seats across from our friends. “Everyone is staring,” I whisper to both of them.

“Let them stare, little one,” Fred tells me with a smile. 

“Nothing, and nobody can hurt you while we’re around. I promise, baby,” George says softly, stroking my hair. I nod my head and turn to the front as Dumbledore starts his speech. 

“Good evening, and welcome back,” Dumbledore says with a smile as the rest of the chatter dies down. “Here starts another year of education, friendship, and memories. While we may be separated by house, we are one school, one body. And we must all look out for each other, care for one another, and protect everyone. As with every year, we will begin with the sorting ceremony, welcoming fresh minds and new friends. Be kind, be generous, and be helpful. I’m sure you all remember the first time walking through those doors and the uncertainty that came along with it,” he chuckles before continuing. 

“Show them that no matter what house you are sorted into, everyone is welcome, and everyone has a place here. This year, we will also have a new Defense Against The Dark Arts professor joining us as well. A man I believe to be one of the bravest, most loyal, and even one of the most trouble-causing previous students I have ever known. Please give a warm welcome to Sirius Black,” he claps with a smile. 

We all look at Harry and smile. We all stand up and clap the loudest of anyone in the great hall, Fred and George whooping and hollering as Sirius walks out from a room behind the teacher's table, smiles at us, and takes a seat. 

*****

“That concludes our sorting ceremony,” Dumbledor claps as the new first-years take their seats at their assigned house tables. “Let the feast begin,” Dumbledore says as platters of all sorts of food appear on the table in front of us, damn near throwing me into a full-blown panic attack. 

Everyone digs in, and I start to look for the lowest calorie foods, mentally counting them in my head and comparing them to how much exercise I’ll have to do to make up for it when Fred takes my plate and starts putting food onto it. “What are you doing?” I ask him, trying not to panic. 

“Serving you, little one,” he says calmly, putting a scoop of potato salad on my plate, knowing it’s my favorite. I dig my nails into the palm of my hand when I see the size of the scoop, double what I would’ve taken for myself. My breathing intensifies as I watch him put beans and chicken on my plate, too. 

George takes my hands in one of his and tips my face to look at him. “Deep breath, baby. It’s alright. You don’t have to eat it all. We just want you to try, okay?” He says in a soothing tone of voice. I nod my head as tears well in my eyes, begging myself not to cry as Fred takes control of my plate. “Hey, hey, look at me,” George says, getting my attention again. “Take a deep breath in with me, okay? In,” he says and we take a deep breath in together. “Good, and out,” he says as we blow it out. We do this three times until I’ve finally calmed down. “Good girl, you feel a little better now?” 

I nod. “A little. I just hate eating in front of all of these people. I feel like they’re all staring at me,” I sniffle. 

“I promise they’re not, baby. But would it make you feel better if the others blocked you from looking at them?” George asks me. I nod shyly, and he smiles and kisses my cheek before leaning over the table to Hermione. “Pst, Granger,” he says, getting her attention as Fred sets my plate down in front of me. 

“Yes?” she answers, leaning over. 

“Tell everyone to scoot down so our girl doesn’t have to look at everyone while she eats, will you?” he asks quietly. Hermione gives him a thumbs up. 

Fred rubs my back lovingly and places some water and tea down in front of me as the others scoot down. “I don’t think I can eat all of this, Freddie,” I admit quietly. 

Fred smiles sadly and leans in. “It’s alright, little one. Just eat half, okay?” He says softly. 

I nod. “I’m sorry,” I admit, feeling ashamed. 

Fred tilts my chin up to look at him. “Listen to me. You have nothing to be sorry for. Do you understand me?” He asks seriously, and I nod as he continues. “Whenever you’re ready to talk about it, we’re here. Until then, and after, we will do everything we can to help you, okay?” 

“Thank you, Freddie,” I say softly. 

Fred genuinely smiles and kisses the back of my hand. “Anything for you, little one.” 

Our four friends scoot down to block me from looking at anyone else, and Fred and George tilt their bodies slightly to block me on the sides. “I still don’t see why we had to move,” Ron groans as I pick up my fork. 

Hermione nudges him in the ribs. “I told you, we’re helping y/n,” she scolds him. 

Ron rolls his eyes and looks at me. “Honestly, what did you need our help with, anyway?” Ron asks as he puts more food on his plate. 

I bite my lip nervously before I answer him. “I promise, I’ll tell you later. But I really do appreciate it,” I respond, giving him a small smile. 

Ron swallows a big bite and looks at me. “Whatever it is, it better be good, is all I’m saying.” 

Harry rolls his eyes and looks at Ron. “Honestly, Ron, just eat.”

I manage to eat half of my plate before the table magically clears and dessert appears. I take a deep breath, feeling my anxiety start rising again, but before I can get too deep into it, a voice behind me pulls me from my thoughts. “Ms. Hunt?” I turn around to see the headmaster, Dumbledore, behind me, looking down at me with a kind smile. 

“Oh, yes, sir?” I respond politely. 

“I hate to steal you away from your friends, but would you kindly accompany me to my office? I need to speak with you,” He asks like I have a choice. 

 “Of course, sir. Right now?” I ask, looking around at my friends and wondering how I could be in trouble when we literally just got here. 

Dumbledore smiles and nods once. “Yes, if you please. I will have you back to your common room with plenty of time to visit and settle in.” 

I nod and stand from the table. “Of course, sir. Lead the way,” As I walk through the great hall with Dumbledore, everyone, and I mean everyone, stares. But this time, I also hear the rumors. 

“She’s probably in trouble because she’s dating the twins,” someone from our table says.

“Hopefully, the slut gets kicked out,” someone adds in response to the first.

“Did you see her crying at the table? Fucking pathetic,” someone from the Ravenclaw table says.

“I heard she’s on drugs, and that’s why she doesn’t eat,” says someone from Slytherin.

I try to ignore them, but my eyes are filled with tears by the time we exit the great hall, and I can’t stop the sniffle that breaks free. Dumbledore doesn’t speak about it, simply handing me a tissue without saying a word as we walk to his office. 

“Sherbert lemon,” Dumbledore says to the griffin statue that leads to his office. The statue turns, and stairs appear in its place. When we get to his office, he opens his door and allows me to enter first. “Please, have a seat,” he says kindly, motioning to the chair in front of his desk as he sits behind it. 

“Sir, am I in trouble?” I ask nervously as I sit down in front of his desk. 

 Dumbledore looks at me curiously. “Now, why would you think that you’re in trouble?” He asks, making me want to roll my eyes. He always does this. Answers questions with a question. 

I shrug my shoulders. “I don’t know,” then it hits me. “Is it my Mum?” I ask worriedly. “She’s in the hospital, you see, at,”

Dumbledore raises a hand, cutting me off. “At St. Mungo’s, with your father. Yes, I am aware,” Dumbledore says with a small smile. “Your father wrote me this morning and explained the whole situation. I am happy to say she is quite alright, even if she hasn’t woken yet,” he says, leaning back in his seat. “And you are not in any trouble.” 

Now, I’m even more confused. “Okay. Forgive me, professor. It’s just that I’ve never been called into your office before,” I say, looking around. 

“I asked you up here because I noticed that you seemed to be struggling at dinner. And I wanted to ask if there is anything that I can do to help,” Dumbledore responds kindly. 

I breathe a small sigh of relief. “Honestly, sir, I’m not sure,” I answer honestly, but I can see that he is waiting for an explanation, so I decide to just tell him everything. “Over the summer, I went through quite a bit,” he nods, waiting for me to continue. “My eating disorder has returned. It started in year three, and I got it under control in my fourth and fifth years, but this last summer,” I look off to the side, my hands shaking. “It returned in full swing. I noticed that I had gained quite a bit of weight and well…” I sigh and shrug my shoulders as I look back at him. “Here I am.”

Dumbledore nods, thinking for a minute before he speaks. “I’m very sorry to hear that, Ms. Hunt,” he says sympathetically. “You care so deeply for your friends, and you are always kind to everyone around you. I notice it when I am doing my evaluations during the year, and even just around the school in general,” he explains. “You are always the first one to offer help to another student, regardless of their house. I admire that about you,” he says with a smile. 

He thinks for another moment and speaks again. “How about this,” he explains. “There is a big enough table in your common room for you and your friends. How would you like to eat your meals there instead of the great hall? Your friends can join you, of course. You can eat your meals there in peace and just join the rest of the school when you feel comfortable enough.”

“That would be amazing, professor,” I say surprised. “But I would hate to burden you or the elves. I know nobody thinks about them, but I do. They already have so much on their plate: starting the fires, cleaning, and warming the beds on top of everything else. I would hate to add on to that.”

“I think it is a beautiful thing that you think of them,” he smiles. “You’re right. They are often overlooked. But I assure you, with your permission, of course, that when I explain the situation to them, they will be happy to help. Especially Dobby. As I hear, you have gotten quite close with the elf?” 

I chuckle and nod. “Yes, Dobby is wonderful. He always listens to me when I need someone besides my friends to talk to. And always with hot chocolate,” I smile fondly at the memories and nod. “Yes, I would very much appreciate that. You have my permission to speak with them about it. I know I can trust you and them.” 

Dumbledore nods and smiles. “Thank you for trusting me. Forgive me for asking, but does anyone else know of your struggles? Your friends, for instance?”

“Not yet,” I shake my head. “I was going to tell them when we got back to the common room once everyone else went to bed. I know I can’t fight it alone. Part of me doesn’t want to fight it at all, if I’m being honest,” I admit nervously. “But I’m tired all the time, and it’s scary when I almost pass out,” I sigh. “I just don’t want to feel like this anymore.”

Dumbledore nods with understanding. “Yes, the battles we have within ourselves tend to be the hardest to win. But,” he points to me. “They are also the battles most worth fighting for,” he says with a smile. “There is one more thing I wanted to share with you.” 

I lean forward slightly, paying attention. “Yes, professor?” 

Dumbledore clears his throat and leans forward. “When I corresponded with your father, he mentioned that when you’re stressed, it helps for you to have your own space,” I nod in agreement. “I have made arrangements, and you will have your own dorm room this year,” my eyes widen in surprise. My own dorm?! “If, at some point, you would like to share it with Ms. Granger or Ms. Weasley, that will be your choice, and we can arrange it. But it is your choice.”

“Thank you, professor. That is very generous of you,” I smile. “I hope it wasn’t too much of a burden.”

“None at all,” he shakes his head. “You may also, if you choose, have co-ed sleepovers. You are a bright witch, and I trust your judgment,” he explains, interlocking his fingers. “But only in your dorm room, and as long as you are careful and remember to take your potions every day. You are a young woman, and I understand that you have, well, shall we say, desires, but I do not want to hear you or your friends bragging about your privileges in the halls or class,” Dumbledore says sternly.

“As you know, private co-ed gatherings in the dorms are allowed for sixth years and above, but only before eight o’clock. Should I hear you or your friends bragging about your privilege, it will be revoked. Is that understood?” he asks seriously. 

I nod profusely. “Yes, professor, I understand entirely,” I respond, trying not to jump for joy right out of my seat. 

“Very well. Now, let’s get you back to your common room, and I shall confer with the house elves about your accommodations,” he says as we rise from our seats and walk out of his office. “Your dorm will be at the end of the hall, past the other girls’ dorm rooms. It’s a new door, so you can’t miss it.” 

As we walk down the corridors and up the stairs to the Gryffindor common room, he shares some of the amenities of my new dorm. I have to refrain from running ahead and telling my friends all about them as he tells me. Dumbledore also tells me how to lock and unlock my door. Apparently, my door is just like the doors to the common rooms, and once I set a password, so charm in the world will open it. Dumbledore also tells me one more surprise I’m excited to share with my friends tonight, while the rest of the school will be told in the morning. 

“Ms. Hunt, may I offer you one more piece of advice?” He asks as we reach the portrait of the fat lady. 

“Of course, professor,” I answer him. 

“In the course of my many years, I have heard a lot of foul rumors. Some about myself. The one thing I’ve noticed about all of them is that they are almost always false, and all from people who simply don’t understand or won’t understand one’s situation. As hard as it may be, pay no mind or attention to the rumors we heard upon our exit from the great hall,” Dumbledore tells me as he places a hand gently on my shoulder. “People tend to create such horrible things to say to cope with their internal issues. Not a single one I heard tonight defines you.”

“Thank you, sir. That does make me feel a bit better,” I tell him truthfully. 

“Of course,” he nods with a smile. “Goodnight, Ms. Hunt,” he says, turning away. 

“Um, professor?” I call after him.

“Yes?” He asks, turning to face me again. 

I smirk and point to the common room door. “I don’t have the password.”

Dumbledore chuckles and shakes his head. “Of course, my apologies. The password is ‘Fortuna Major.” 

I nod and Dumbledore turns and walks away as I turn back to the door. “Fortuna Major,” I tell the fat lady. She nods, and the doorway opens, allowing me to pass through. 

I walk into the common room and see my friends and the twins all waiting for me on the couches by the fire. Other than that, the common room is empty. Everyone else is probably still at the feast, given the fact that it doesn’t end for another hour. That, or they’re in their dorms, unpacking and settling in. When they see me, they all jump up excitedly. I walk over to Fred and George, giving them a big hug. 

“Are you alright?” George asks me as he kisses the top of my head. 

“Yes. He just wanted to talk to me about what I need to talk to all of you about,” I tell him as I pull back. “Also,” I smirk. “I got my own dorm room.” 

“What?!” They all ask in shock. 

“You lucky witch! How’d you manage that?” Ginny asks in surprise. 

“So that’s what the new door is for! Nobody could figure out how to open it,” Hermione laughs. 

“Yeah, I’m the only one who can unless someone has my password. I guess my dad and Dumbledore talked, and they decided that with everything going on, I should have my own space,” I explain as everyone still looks at me in shock. “So…” I smile wide. “You guys want to come check it out with me?” I ask them all excitedly. 

“Um, yes!” Hermione says excitedly as we start to walk toward the stairs. 

I turn around when I notice that the boys aren’t following us. “You guys coming?” I ask with a raised brow. 

They look at each other, and George scratches the top of his head. “Uh, it’s after eight, baby. No boys can be up there.” 

“Yeah, but we’ll wait here until you’re ready to talk,” Fred says with a look of disappointment. 

I smirk as I look at them. “Well, then, I guess it’s a good thing that my dorm is co-ed twenty-four-seven,” I smile wide. 

The boys look at me like I just sprouted seven heads. “What? Seriously?” George asks in shock. 

“How’d you swing that?” Ron asks in equal shock. 

I shrug my shoulders and smile. “I guess Dumbledore trusts me,” I giggle. They all immediately follow us up the stairs and to my door. “Okay, I need to think of a password so nobody except us can get in. Any ideas?” I ask our group. 

“Oo! One second, let’s make sure there’s nobody around first,” Hermione says, checking the dorms. “Okay, all clear,” she says when she comes back. 

“How about ‘butterfly’?” Ginny suggests, then shakes her head. “No, that’s too easy.” 

“How about your Mum’s maiden name? Nobody would be able to guess that,” Harry suggests next. 

“Excellent idea, Harry!” I say with a smile and turn to the door. I place my palm on the wood like Dumbledore told me to and set the password. “Password set to ‘Benson,’” I instruct the door. 

“Did it work?” Fred asks behind me. 

I shrug. “I don’t know, let’s see,” I say, gripping the door handle. “Benson,” the lock clicks, and the handle turns as I open the door. I gasp as I see my room. It’s beautiful. 

The room is huge. It’s square with the brick walls exposed. A big, four-poster queen bed is against the wall by my door, with a nightstand on both sides. A large table with a comfortable-looking chair overlooks my window, and next to it, a minifridge filled with Redbull, water bottles, and the potions I take every day. 

On the wall directly in front of my bed is a fireplace with a TV on top, filled with my favorite streaming services. In front of the fireplace, two small couches face each other, with a coffee table in the middle. On the left side of the room, a private bathroom and a wardrobe for all of my clothes. 

As we all explore my room, everyone tells me how much they love it. “And the best part?” I smile, moving to the green button by my wall. “You can all stay the night. This button summons beds, snacks, and drinks. I press it again, and they disappear,” I explain. 

“Wicked,” the twins say in sync as they sit on one of the couches. I smile and sit between them as everyone gets comfortable. 

“So, onto more serious matters,” I sigh. I need to talk to you all about something,” I tell them as my hands begin to shake. 

“You can tell us anything, y/n. We’ll listen,” Ginny says, giving me a reassuring smile.

“You’re our best mate,” Harry adds, pulling Ginny onto his lap. 

I nod and turn to look at Fred and George at my sides. “Whenever you’re ready, little one.”

I turn to look at everyone again and take a deep breath. “Please hold any questions or comments until I’m done. Because it’s a lot,” I ask everyone. Everyone nods as they wait for me to continue. I close my eyes, relax, and begin to explain. 

“So, as I’m sure you all noticed, I don’t eat a lot, or sometimes, not at all,” I take another deep breath and continue. “I have anorexia. It’s an eating disorder that causes me to starve myself. It started in my third year, and it got better in my fourth and fifth year, but it’s back,” I look down at my hands. “I’m not proud of it; as a matter of fact, I hate it,” I sniffle. “I’m just so ashamed of my body and so scared of getting fat that I can’t stop, even though I hate feeling so dizzy all of the time.”

Fred and George each take one of my hands, holding them tightly as I look back up at our friends. “I hate eating in large crowds. That’s why George and Hermione asked you guys to scoot down in the great hall. To prevent me from having to see anyone else or anyone else seeing me,” Ron covers his mouth and looks at me with a sympathetic expression. 

“I also have really bad anxiety. I take a potion for it every morning. Nobody knows because Molly would slip it into my coffee in the morning. I also carry around single servings of a stronger dose of it in case I have a bad anxiety attack. I hope you guys don’t think less of me or think I’m weird because of it. But I feel like I can trust all of you, and I feel like you won’t. It’s just hard sometimes because my anxiety tells me people will,” I finish explaining, wiping away the few tears that fall. 

Fred and George help me stand as everyone stands with them and they pull me into a big group hug. “We would never do that, y/n. You’re our best mate,” Harry reminds me. 

“Exactly. You’re like a sister to me. Hopefully soon, a sister-in-law,” Ginny adds, making all of us laugh as we pull back. 

Ron looks at me with a guilty look on his face and a tear falling from his eyes as he pulls me into a tight hug himself. “Merlin, I’m such an ass,” he sniffles. “Can you ever forgive me?” 

“Of course, I can, Ron,” I assure him as I pat his back before I pull back. “None of you knew.”

“Thank you for telling us,” Hermione says as she hugs me. “I’ll do some research, and I’m sure we can find a way to help you beat this.” 

I giggle as I pull back. “Thanks, ‘Mione. I can always count on you and your research,” I giggle. And turn to Fred and George, seeing them crying. They rarely cry, if ever at all. 

“I’m sorry if this is all too much,” I go to apologize, but before I can finish, they pull me into their chests, hugging me between them in my safe space. 

“Don’t you even think about finishing that sentence,” Fred tells me as he sniffles and kisses the top of my head. 

“You’re never too much, baby. We will always be here for you,” George assures me. They pull back and wipe my tears that started to fall again and kiss my cheeks. “Always,” George says as he looks into my eyes. 

I put my arms around their waists as they drape their arms over my shoulders when I turn back to our friends. “I have one more surprise,” I smile. “Dumbledore is giving everyone the day off tomorrow as a mental health day. He said he wants everyone to just relax and have an extra day on the grounds before school starts. So, I was thinking we break in my new room with a good old-fashioned sleepover.”

Everyone cheers, and I turn back to Fred and George. “You guys still have those bottles of Firewhiskey?” I ask, biting my lower lip with a smile. 

“Oh, baby,” George smirks and leans on my shoulder. “We have bottles for days,” he flirts, kissing my cheek. 

“Okay, but we need to be careful because Dumbledore said nobody else can know that you all are allowed in here after eight,” I warn him. 

“Here,” Harry says to Fred and George, reaching into his bag and pulling out his invisibility cloak. “Take this to go grab ‘em. Will you grab Ron and I pajamas, too? The four of us won’t fit under there,” he says, handing the cloak to Fred. 

“No problem, mate,” Fred says, taking the cloak from Harry and turning to me, kissing me deeply. “Be right back, little one,” he says with a wink. 

“I’ll come with you. I’ll hold the clothes while you hold the bottles,” George says to Fred before kissing me. “Back soon, darling,” he says with a smile as he gets under the cloak with Fred, and they sneak out of my dorm. 

“So,” I walk over to the green button on the wall and face my friends. “Should we press the button?” I ask with a smile. 

“Yes! But we should probably move the table and couches first, get them out of the way,” Hermione mentions. 

“Good point,” I agree. We push the couches out of the way and push the coffee table to the end of my bed, clearing the floor for whatever kind of beds pop up. “Alright,” I say with a smile as we finish, and I walk back over to the button. “Here goes nothing,” I say as I press the button. 

We gasp as two beds appear in front of the fireplace, adorned with pillows and fluffy-looking comforters. The table by the window magically fills with snacks and drinks. Chips, dips, cookies, pumpkin pasties, two liters of soda, a jug of pumpkin juice, and a kettle with hot chocolate. 

“Merlin, y/n. This is officially the coolest room I have ever seen in this castle,” Ginny squeals excitedly. 

“Um,” Hermione says with a blush. “Didn’t you say there would be the right number of beds for guests?” Hermione asks shyly as she looks at the two beds. 

I shrug. “Well, Dumbledore said couples were allowed, so maybe there’s a bed for each of you,” I suggest. “The magic probably knows you’re with Ron and that Ginny is with Harry.”

“If you’re not comfortable, Hermione, Harry, and I can take one, and you and Ginny can have the other,” Ron says, giving Hermione a reassuring smile. 

Hermione kisses his cheek and smiles. “It’s okay, I don’t mind. I was just curious,” Hermione says with a blush. 

“Cool, because I, for one, want to sleep with my boyfriend,” Ginny smiles and kisses Harry as he wraps an arm around his waist. 

My bedroom door opens and closes, looking empty until Fred and George remove the cloak, already dressed in pajamas, holding two bottles of Firewhiskey and pajamas for Rona and Harry. “Only two extra beds?” George asks as he hands Harry and Ron their pajamas. 

“The magic knows they’re together,” I quickly explain as Fred sets the bottles down on the table. 

“Oo, so we get to sleep with our girlfriend, too?” Fred flirts, wrapping an arm around my waist and dipping me. 

I giggle and kiss him. “Easy, tiger. Nobody is getting laid tonight.”

Fred lifts me back up and spins me in his arms to George, who catches me and sways. “Hey, no complaints here,” he says before leaning into my ear. “For tonight at least, baby.” 

“Just know you’re never getting rid of us now,” Fred says with a wink as he appears at George’s side. 

I laugh and roll my eyes. “Oh, no. Whatever will I do?” I ask in a flirty and sarcastic tone. 

For hours, we drink, eat, play cards and wizard chess, and eventually put on a movie as we all lay down. We all put on ‘Zombieland’ and mostly laugh at it. After the movie, our friends are knocked out hard, and I lay down between Fred and George on my bed, stretching my arms over my head as they wrap their arms around my waist. 

Fred leans in and kisses that sweet spot right behind my ear, making me hum in pleasure. “Can you be quiet for us, little one?” He asks flirtily, drawing lazy circles on my lower stomach. 

“Why do you ask, Freddie?” I ask, loving their touches. 

Fred and George look at each other and smirk before looking at me again. “We know you said ‘no fucking,’ but we want to finger you,” George says, biting his lower lip. 

I think about it for a moment, just the thought getting me wet. “What about the others?” I ask, not saying no.

Fred leans over the edge of the bed and lays back down next to me. “They’re passed out. We may or may not have put a sleeping potion in the bottle they were drinking from,” Fred says with a wink. “As long as you don’t get too loud, they won’t wake up.” 

I nod my head and bite my lower lip as Fred and George rub my thighs, making me clench them together. Maybe I’m crazy, but after all the teasing today, I need a release. “And you two are okay with not going all the way?” I ask, double-checking. 

“Completely,” they whisper together with devious smirks. 

“Plus, you deserve a reward after today,” George says, kissing my neck as his fingers trail up the inner part of my thigh, making them fall open on their own. 

“Mm, okay,” I hum softly. “I’m in.” 

“That’s our good girl,” Fred praises. “Just lay your pretty little head back and relax while we take care of you.” 

George quietly pulls back the covers and positions himself between my thighs. His fingers graze over my skin as he moves up the waistband of my sleep shorts, setting off sparks wherever he touches. He pulls down my shorts and panties, and his tongue pokes out to lick his bottom lip. “Mm, fuck. She’s glistening, Fred,” he smirks and looks at Fred next to me. 

Fred leans down to look at my pussy, making me blush as a low groan escapes his chest. “So wet for us, huh, little one?” 

I whimper with need at their words as Fred moves back to lean over me from my side. “Yes,” I moan softly as George swipes one finger painfully slow between my folds. 

Fred removes my shirt, leaving me bare before them. “You’re so fucking beautiful,” he praises me as he leans down and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, drawing another small moan from my lips. 

George rubs slow circles around my sensitive clit as he slides one finger, then another, inside of me. “So tight and wet,” George praises. 

“Fuck, yes, just like that,” I moan as George starts to thrust his fingers in and out faster.

 “You like that, little one?” Fred asks as he switches nipples, pinching and rolling the one he was just sucking. 

“Yes, mm, I love it,” I moan, rolling my hips to meet George’s fingers. He pulls them out, making me whimper at the loss until I feel him shift, and his tongue meets my clit, licking and sucking on it as he slides two fingers back into me, curling and thrusting them in a delicious rhythm. “God, yes, George,” I moan, my back arching. 

George moans against my clit as his arm wraps around my hip and thigh, holding me in place. “You taste fucking devine,” he groans. 

Fred swallows my moans as he kisses me deeply, taking my bottom lip between his teeth. “Fred,” I moan softly when he pulls back. “I want to suck your cock,” I whimper against his lips. 

Fred chuckles darkly against my lips. “Is that so, little one?” he asks. I nod my head with another moan as George sucks my clit again. “How do you ask?” Fred teases me. 

“Freddie, please,” I moan softly, one of my hands moving down to clutch George’s hair as he laps at my clit and thrusts his fingers inside of me faster. 

Fred sits up, pulling down his pajama pants and boxers, freeing his long and hard cock. My mouth waters at the large size of it. I part my lips, sticking out my tongue to accept his cock in my mouth as he slides it in. “Fuck, you look so good with my cock in your mouth, little one,” Fred praises me. “Doesn’t she, George?” He turns and asks George with a groan as I take him deeper. 

“Like a fucking vision, Fred,” George says breathily before going back to my clit, flicking it fast with his tongue and making me mewl around Fred’s cock. 

I take his cock deeper in my throat, swallowing around him and hollowing my cheeks to create more suction as I bob my head up and down his long shaft. “Yes, just like that,” he moans, tilting his head back. “Fuck, switch me, George. I need to taste her now,” Fred groans. 

“Mm, don’t mind if I do,” George groans as he withdraws his fingers, and they switch places, making me whimper. 

“Needy, aren’t we, little one?” Fred teases me as he settles between my thighs and licks a long, slow line from my entrance to my clit. I hum and nod my head, making him smirk. “Guess we better take care of you then,” he winks and plunges his tongue into my entrance. 

I gasp as my back arches, and I grab the sheets of my bed. “Shh, don’t want to wake anyone,” George chuckles as he leans down and kisses me deeply, letting me taste myself on his tongue. “Mm, you want to suck my cock too, baby?” George asks me as he bites my lower lip. 

“Yes, Georgie, fuck, I want it,” I moan as he pulls down his pants and boxers. I grasp George’s cock, taking it into my mouth as Fred’s tongue moves to my clit and his fingers thrust into me harshly, making me whimper. 

“My God, you taste so good,” Fred groans against my clit, adding a perfect amount of vibration. My thighs attempt to clamp together around his head as I moan, taking George further down my throat. Fred forces them back open and thrusts three fingers inside of me. “Keep your fucking legs open,” he demands. The roughness of his hands, the demanding voice, and his sinfully skilled fingers only drive me closer and closer to the edge. 

I pull back off of George’s cock, stroking his cock and taking a breath of air. “Fuck, I’m going to cum,” I moan pathetically as my legs begin to shake. 

George thrusts his cock back into my mouth, gathering my hair in his hand and holding my head still as he starts to fuck my throat. “Good girl, cum for us, baby,” he moans, biting his lower lip. 

“Cum on my face like our good little slut,” Fred orders as he flicks my clit with his tongue faster and thrusts his fingers into me harder, curling his fingers and hitting that perfect spot inside of me. 

I force myself to take George in my throat all the way to his base, gagging around him as my orgasm starts to crest. “God, yes. Swallow my fucking cum, baby,” George moans as his cock twitches in my throat. My legs begin to shake uncontrollably as George spills himself down my throat, sending me right over the edge myself. His cock barely contains my moans as Fred holds my hands down at my sides, riding me through my orgasm with his devilish tongue as I swallow every drop of his twin’s cum. 

When George pulls himself out of my throat, he kisses me harshly, not caring about tasting himself on my lips. I pull back with a gasp as I look down at Fred. “Freddie, I want you to cum down my throat, too,” I plead. I had only just cum, and I already need more. 

Fred smirks and bites his lip as he comes up to my other side. “Your wish is my command. Open up, little one,” he instructs me as he presses his cock to my lips. “Fuck, that mouth,” Fred groans as I take him to the base, and he grips my hair tight. 

George’s fingers find their way back to my sensitive clit, rubbing circles around the tender nub. “I want you to be a good girl and cum for us again. Can you do that for us, baby?” he teases as his fingers slide to my entrance and back to my clit. I nod against Fred’s cock, and he harsh;y pulls me off of his cock by my hair, making me whimper. 

“He asked you a question. Use your words, little one. Are you going to be our good girl?” Fred asks in a low, demanding voice that makes me fucking feral. 

“Yes,” I hiss as he pulls my hair harder, only making me more wet. 

“Yes, what?” He groans, his cock twitching as the tip drips with pre-cum. 

“Yes, I’ll be your good girl,” I answer, sticking out my tongue and licking the slit on his cock where his pre-cum is dripping.

Fred hisses, and a low growl comes from his throat. “That’s our good girl,” George praises as he thrusts three fingers into my entrance, as his thumb rubs my clit. “Such a good little slut for us. Cum all over my fingers, baby,” George moans as my legs begin to shake. 

Fred pulls me off of his cock again. “Who’s good little girl, are you?” He teases me. 

“Yours and Georgie’s,” I moan softly. 

“That’s fucking right,” Fred groans as he thrusts himself inside of my mouth again and starts to fuck my throat. I feel myself come undone as Fred cums down my throat, shooting hot, salty ropes of cum down my throat, holding my head still as he gives me every drop. I feel my walls clench around George’s fingers, moaning and whimpering pathetically around Fred’s cock. 

When Fred pulls himself from my throat, he grabs my throat and slams his lips to mine as George fixes his pants and puts my shorts and panties back on, leaving soft, gentle kisses up my legs. “Woman, you’re going to be the death of me,” Fred whispers against my lips. 

“I could say the same to you two,” I whisper back as George lays back down next to me. 

Fred chuckles and sits me up, sliding my shirt back on and laying down on my other side. “You good, baby?” George asks me, drawing lazy circles on my hips. 

I smile and nod as I look at him. “So good,” I say quietly as Fred runs his fingers through my hair. “I don’t think I’ve ever cum that hard in my life,” I giggle. 

Fred chuckles and kisses my neck softly. “You say that now, little one. Just wait until we get our cocks buried inside of you.” 

“We’ll wear you out,” George flirts with a wink. 

“Mm,” I hum, satisfied as I close my eyes and yawn. “Can’t wait.”

“Goodnight, beautiful,” Fred says, kissing me good night. 

“Goodnight, Freddie,” I say against his lips. 

George tilts my face to him, holding my chin with his thumb and forefinger. “Goodnight, my love.” 

“Goodnight, Georgie,” I say, kissing him just before sleep pulls me under with their arms wrapped around my waist.

[ickle-ronniekins]

the things we left unspoken

 pairing: george x fem!reader

word count: 1.4k

warning(s): angst, breakups, substance abuse

desc: wrote this years ago and never published it and then went through one of the most horribly confusing and heart-rending breakups ever! there’s not a whole ton of my old fic writer friends are still here so this is going to hit a new audience if there is still a weasley twins audience on here -- hi, i’m erica, i wrote obsessively for the weasley twins years back. sometimes i still do, for my own enjoyment. though this one hurts and george sucks. i don’t normally do that because i’m in love with him but this is a bit different. sorry

Age 23, Present Day

“No... How dare you come here and tell me this now?”

George feels his chest constrict a bit; his breathing is heavy, as if he’s just run a marathon, which he certainly feels like. It has taken him every bit of his strength to not come to your doorstep and admit to something he should have years ago. He’s absolutely bloody exhausted from fighting an internal battle with himself for this long.

In all of your years aside one another, he’d never quite seen you so angry as this. Your mouth, otherwise normally twisted into some lopsided smile, is now in a thin, firm line. Your jaw is tensed, and he knows from all of those evenings next to you in bed that you’re certainly clenching your teeth because of the stress you surely are feeling from him showing up unannounced. He wishes not to know that. Or actually, if he’s being honest, he wishes that he still spent that time with you in bed, and instead of grinding your teeth together, you’d giggle open-mouthed as he’d press ticklish kisses to the space between your collarbones. Your eyes are ocean blue and stormy and grey at the same time, and he doesn’t quite relish the idea of mustering up any strength he has left to whether the ups and downs of the impending tide.

Though you’re standing your ground, he sees your lip wobble just a smidge and it sends daggers straight through his heart. He swore that day, the day when everything had blown up, that he would never, ever make you cry again. It was the day he thought would be the worst of his life. How painfully wrong he was. Your voice is wobbly now, too. "You had no right to come here and say these things.”

You’re right, of course. He knows that. He doesn’t have any right. He’d lost that privilege the evening you’d taken every stolen glance, every evening kiss, every morning after and laid them out in front of you both, tangled in the web of your own vulnerability. He’d lost any and all privileges when it came to you, when he’d turned everything down, pretending that he didn’t feel exactly the same way you did, pretending it wasn’t what it truly was. Pretending he didn’t love you. He’s so stupid, wasn’t he? Though of course, he’d only rejected them because he thought he’d be protecting you.

There’s nothing he could say now to make things better. Shit. He’s cursing himself upright and backwards; he should’ve just kept his bloody mouth shut like Ron had said.

“I know I have no right,” George starts, and he’s surprised himself with how many emotions are jam packed into those six words. He suddenly feels as though something rather sharp has become lodged in his chest. He places his hands into his pockets and looks up wearily to meet your gaze. Your eyes are still grey, but softened now, as if the storm has drifted out to sea. For a very fleeting moment, he sees traces of that girl from years ago, the one who would run up stealthily to the boys dormitory and hide in his four poster with the curtains drawn until he arrived, quiet so as not to disturb his roommates, with a grin so large and mischievous it could’ve cured him of every anxious thought he ever had. He considers your vulnerability, the traces of what had been, and wants to lean in and kiss you if the moral compass in his head wasn’t screaming at him to not do so right this very moment. Just as well, he thinks, because that fleeting moment in your eyes had disappears as quickly as it had arrived. You’re backing away now, into your front doorway.

He wants to search each and every book all the Wizarding libraries had to offer, because there has to be a spell to turn back time without necessarily meddling with it, right? He can’t stand the idea of using a time turner and possibly fucking up more than he already has.

But if he could turn back time without any consequences, he’d go right back to that night, no questions asked, no time to ponder, and he’d tell you that he loves you.

He’d go right back to when you stood across from him in the rain and told him that you fell for him, even though you promised not too, because what you two were doing was something with no strings attached. You’d both agreed to it, from that first moment he’d kissed you so furiously on the abandoned Quidditch pitch. You never meant to fall for him. You really hadn’t. But you couldn’t help it. And George knew it, too. He’d told himself when you two started this whole thing that someone was bound to get hurt in the end, but he hadn’t been thinking straight then, had he? He was distracted by the heat of your lips exploring his body, by the way your hands always got tangled in his hair and left it messy looking, by the way you’d steal glances at him from across rooms, and from the intense sensual energy you two exchanged in those glances, noting that only you two knew what was going on behind closed doors.

He’d go back to that moment and tell you that he loved you too, and he didn’t care what people thought, because he’s loved you for years, now. He’d loved you ever since that one night when you two were lying in bed and he’d been playing with your hair, and he was joking and going on about something about the test products for the shop, and you continued to trace your finger along his biceps, and casually let it slip how proud you were of him.

You two had agreed that feelings wouldn’t be involved, and yet feelings seemed to be what kept you both from ending things. Until that one night in the rain.

He’d tell you that he didn’t care how you two started, tangled up in bed sheets and one another’s limbs without commitment to one another. All he cares about is how you two end, where commitment is all he bloody wants to give you now.

But he can’t. He can’t go back in time -- not without dire consequences.

There’s a type of yearning in your eyes. He was used to you longing -- for five more minutes, for one more kiss, for a tighter embrace. The truth was, he longed for all of those thing too. He still does.

But this is a different type. This is a type of yearning he can’t quite get on board with, but he knows he has too. If he loves you, truly loves you, he has too. He can practically hear your voice in his head, though your lips aren’t moving. I’m trying to move on, George, and you’re not letting me.

“I’m sorry.. I just needed you to know.” He manages to say shakily. And he tests fate and takes five more seconds, just five more, to memorize you -- the curve of your jaw, the colours in your hair, the intensity of your gaze, because he doesn’t want to forget. He doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to look at you like this again.

Another dagger to his heart, he lets his gaze drop and turns around before he can’t stop himself from running toward you and kissing you anyway. He doesn’t turn back; he can’t face the girl who’s heart he’s broken once, twice. He can’t bear to do it again. He hears the door shut and stops dead in his tracks, closes his eyes and lets the tears escape them easily. His feet are stuck on the cobblestone street; he can’t leave. But it’s too damn late now.

He never meant for it to get this far, had he? Neither of you had.

Pride is such a stupid thing, and he’s cursed himself for letting it be of higher importance than you. You were the only thing that mattered -- then, and now.

His evening in his flat he shared with Fred above the shop is filled with bottomless drinks until he can’t see straight, and long gazes out of the rain-covered window panes as he tests prototypes for new items. Drunk on anger, and heartbreak, and confusion, he speaks aloud to nobody, if only to remind himself that this pain he feels is real, bona fide, as the crack in his heart draws larger and deeper.

“I'll always fucking love you.”

[wslydoxy]

ink-stained hands.

fred weasley x fem!reader

warnings: the readers house isn't specified, and the term princess is used once.

Fred Weasley the ever-charming never-flailing flirt. Always popular around the girls, always having that annoyingly cocky smirk on his face, him and his infuriatingly pretty smile and knee-shaking height. you on the other hand were the girl always writing, always a roll of parchment and ink bottle evident in your hands.

Unbeknownst to you the redhead had a tiny crush on you, "it's microscopical George!" he would defend himself, he just wanted to know why your hands were always filled with books or parchment and as if evidence of them being in your hands prior, ink stains. Whether you acknowledged it or not, when you were in the room the older twin's eyes were always set on you, If it was in curiosity or admiration was unknown to him as well. You just had an aura to you, one that drew him in a way he couldn't explain.

You of course always had seen the redhead and his twin around the school, you saw them yelling in joy after a quidditch game or just after a good prank. A small attraction may have sparked towards the boy but you always swept it under the rug knowing it wouldn't lead anywhere anyway, If only you knew how wrong you were.

No matter how many teasing looks from his friends when you were in the room, it was not enough for the boy to get over his initial nerves to talk to you. but after one extraordinarily good game of quidditch here he was, adrenaline rushing through his veins, in front of your dorm room waiting for you to open the door.

You open the door perplexed, eyes wide and mouth slightly agape “Uh- Fred Weasley, right?” you ask. “Uh yeah, look- listen I see how weird this probably is and I honestly Merlin don't know how else to put this except that you're really pretty and for some reason, you're always distracted writing something or another and it's so infuriatingly attractive how you don't notice anything I do, no matter how I hard I try to get your attention and I think it's adorable how your hands are always stained with the ink you use and how you always have something smart to say in class and how absolutely funny your sarcastic replies are and honestly? I just reallyreallyfancyyou” he spits, chest heaving from the whirlwind of words, saying the last part all in one go.

You look at him eyes fully open, you haven't quite fully processed what the redhead said, after a moment you slowly, quietly question “You fancy..me?” you say your left hand pointing to him then yourself. “Um yeah? is that okay?” he questions his resolve melting slightly with your extended reaction time. “That is more than okay, that is great if u ask me, I would totally love to be liked by you because I totally maybe kinda fancy you too?” you say voice going quiet by the end of the sentence.

By the end of your sentence, you look up to see Fred with a completely cocky smile and his usual confident front back “You fancy me too? How perfect, care to tell me how exactly I caught your eye over a cup of butterbeer this weekend?” the boy is full on leaning on your door frame at this point, quidditch robes still on and quite honestly looked hot right now. “How can I say no to that,” you said smiling up at him. “I'll see you this weekend for the date. and tomorrow for breakfast too? Or will I see you at the after-game party tonight?” he asked joy glazing his features due to your acceptance of the date.

You gave yourself a once over in your pyjamas and messy hair and then shifted your eyes up at him eyes squinted and mouth in a straight line, “Yeah about that, I don't think I'm in the prettiest state right now.” humour evident in your voice, “I'll see you at breakfast tomorrow and definitely for that cup of butterbeer” “Yeah I'll see you tomorrow y/n” he says smiling and looking at you head to toe, checking you out quite openly.

A voice hauntingly similar to Fred's twin is heard calling for Fred to come to the common room, and party full-on rage as the loud music is deafening. “You better get going then yeah? people are waiting for you” you smile beckoning him to go, “yeah I should,” he pauses looking you in the eye “I think you look pretty damn cute, even in your pj's princess” the endearing term whispered leaving you with a slight blush dusting your features, and he was gone before you could reply.

With a shake of your head and an airy laugh, you close the door and go to bed with an ever-present smile just to not sleep most of the night, going over the earlier events that had unfolded seemed to keep you up. Smile still gracing your features as you went to breakfast the next morning, and if you put a little extra effort into your hair and makeup just to have it all messed up in the room of requirement by a certain redhead, no one had to know.

[joka13]

FANFICTION: Weasley Twins x Reader (Slytherin Girl) - Part 31

WARNINGS: light kissing

"Merlin's beard..." Fred whispers in disbelief.

"We've done it!" you exclaim, squealing cheerily and clapping your hands together.

"No," George says. "You've done it!" He stands up, taking your hand and leading you into an energetic dance. You both laugh as he spins you around.

"I hardly did anything," you humbly point out. "The Room gave me the last ingredient."

Before you can think about it, George passes you to Fred, who rolls his eyes and says, "Whatever! You found all of the other pieces." He ends the dance with a dip. As he cradles you in his arms, Fred leans down so his face is only inches away from yours. You can't help but giggle as he proceeds to plant multiple kisses all over your face. "Thank you, y/n," Fred says sincerely, then kisses you once more on the lips.

"Aww," you swoon and blush as Fred lifts you upright. "It was nothing really..."

"Let's collect the remaining nougat!" George says, rubbing his hands together excitedly before placing his bag on the table by the cauldron. "We can start selling tomorrow!"

Fred goes to help his twin carefully cut the purple candy into small rectangles. "Our Skiving Snackboxes are now complete!"

At hearing these words, a feeling of dread wells up inside you. The first time you'd felt this particular dread, you'd told yourself to simply stop worrying. But now that the moment had come in which the Weasley twins would no longer have use for your academic skills, you begin to panic.

"No... no, no, no, no..." you whisper. You turn away so that Fred and George don't see the tears in your eyes. But, before you can pull yourself together, the twins notice that something is wrong. The shuffling sounds at the table behind you stop.

"Y/n?" Fred asks.

"Are you alright?" George finishes.

"I-I'm fine," you reply, though your shaky voice betrays you.

You cover your face in shame as you hear the twins' footsteps coming toward you.

"Hey, hey," Fred's voice says softly, concerned. You feel his fingers try to coax your hands away from your face, but you keep your palms tight over your leaking eyes, moving away and accidentally bumping into George.

George steadies you with a gentle hug. "What's the matter?" he asks.

You choke. "It's stupid..."

"Your feelings aren't stupid," Fred consoles. His fingers pry at yours once again, and this time you let him pull your hands away from your face. You look up to meet his eyes as he stands behind George, resting his chin on his brother's shoulder. He gives you an empathetic, crooked smile. The sight of it overwhelms you, bringing more tears to your eyes, and you hide your face against George's chest.

"Talk to us," George encourages. He rubs your back soothingly.

You take in a deep breath. "I... I got t-the idea into m-my head a while back... that when I was finished h-helping you with project nosebleed..." you sniff. "You wouldn't... w-want me around anymore..."

For a moment that felt like a lifetime, neither of the twins speak. Then you feel George's hold loosen around you, and you look up at his face in confusion.

"You're right," George says, his brow furrowing and his mouth in a frown. "That is stupid."

"George!" Fred hisses at him, but you just chuckle gingerly.

"I know, I know..."

George takes a step back as Fred quickly comes forward to hold your hands. He kisses the top of each. You won't look him in the eyes, so he crouches down to where he can see yours.

"Y/n," Fred sighs, shaking his head and smiling. "Have our previous affections meant nothing to you?"

You start to defend yourself. "W-well, there are some people in this world—"

You hadn't noticed him come up behind you, so you gasp in surprise when George's arms snake around your waist. He kisses the top of your head and continues, going down your temple and to your ear. He nibbles at it, causing you to giggle and squirm, but he holds you in place.

"We have no intention of ever leaving you," George whispers into your ear, and you love the sound of his voice, for something about it makes you sure he's telling the truth.

"In fact," Fred begins, pausing to glance at George attentively. You sense a moment of tension, and then George nods. Fred grins ecstatically and goes on. "We were hoping you would leave with us."

TAG LIST: @tomhockstetter7-111 @jasm-1ne @costheticbabe @luthien-elvenia-asher @megablonde22 @thecuteavocado @weasleylady92 @websfromallthespiders @rubyintheforest @weasleylover4eva @georgeweasleyslostearhq @im-coolrat @them-cute-boys @xmadigurlx @keirasinbin @huayan

[agreeeeeeeeeee]

Best Friends Brother ⊹ . + °

| Charlie Weasley x fem!reader

summary: You are Fred & George’s best friend, and meet their mysterious older brother, Charlie, at a product launch at Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.

cw: MDNI 18+ smut with basically zero plot. charlie has an absolutely filthy mouth. no war (or light war? idk, everyone is alive)

an: this was supposed to be a casual hook up when I initally planned it, but the dick was so good they fell in love ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

part two | masterlist

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Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes had a line around the building, hopeful witches and wizards desperate to get a glimpse of the Weasley twin’s newest product. You strolled past them in your mini dress and tights, more than a little chuffed by their jealous glares.

The doors were locked, blocked off with enchanted rope, but when Fred spotted you through the window, he ran to unlock the doors.

“Y/n! I’m so glad you could make it. Georgie, looks who’s here!” Fred slung an arm over your shoulders and ushered you into the store. It was the cleanest you’d ever seen it, with streamers and lights strung everywhere, and a long table loaded with food and drink.

“Y/n!” George shouted, popping up from behind the register. Both of them were dressed in freshly pressed brown suits, looking exceptionally dapper. He came aroud the counter and pulled you into a hug. “Thanks for coming out.”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” you grinned up at them, pride filling your chest. You’d been close with the twins for years, a friendship that started in school and only grew in adulthood, since you worked a few doors down at Honeydukes.

“Come, you have to meet our family!” They ushered you upstairs, where a dozen or so people waited, several faces were familiar, some were not.

“You remember Harry, Ron, and Ginny,” George said, and you greeted them all with a wave.

“And our parents, Molly and Arthur,” Fred continued.

“Oh, y/n! How lovely to see you!” Molly cooed, pulling you into a rib-cracking hug. “My, what a beautiful young lady you’ve grown into.” She pinched you cheek, and heat scorched your face.

“And this is our older brother’s Percy, Charlie, and Bill. And Bill’s wife, Fleur.”

You turned to the trio of men hovering by the bookcases, and nearly tripped over your heels. Percy, you remembered from school, Fleur as well, and Bill was too busy gazing down at her blonde head to glance your way. But Charlie. He stared straight through you, his dark eyes swallowing you whole.

“Pleasure,” Charlie said, his voice honeyed and deep. He was shorter that Percy beside him, but muscular enough that the maroon blazer he wore seemed a little stretched at the shoulders. His white button down shirt beneath it was tailored perfectly to fit across his wide chest and taper at his defined waist. Freckles kissed his cheeks and forehead, his skin a shade tanner than his siblings, though he shared their ginger hair, mid-length and wavy.

“Hello,” you managed, giving him a small smile. But before you could engage further, George whisked you away.

“It’s tiiiime!” Fred shouted, waving his wand, and the doors burst open.

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As the event raged on, you found yourself drawn to Charlie’s orbit, watching as he mingled with guests and chatted with his family. He seemed to draw a lot of attention, what with his rugged good looks and the fact that he was a dragon trainer. It seemed everyone wanted a sliver of Charlie Weasley’s attention.

So you admired him from a far, and tried to help Fred and George as best you could.

You chatted with customers, explaining the new product the best you could, but you kept feeling the tug of someone’s attention at the nape of your neck, distracting you. When the customer finally moved on, you glanced towards the direction of the feeling, and caught Charlie watching you over the rim of his fire whiskey, ignoring the gentleman attempting to talk to him entirely.

The air froze in your lungs, you heart tripping over itself. His gaze was scorching, and if looks could burn…you were certain your clothes would be rendered to ash.

Desire pooled in your lower belly, heating your blood to an uncomfortable degree. Your heart was pounding so loudly in your ears, you missed George approach.

“Hey, y/n, enjoying yourself?” He asked, offering you a glass of champagne with a candy snitch floating in it.

You accepted with a smile. “I am, thank you. You guys have done an incredible job.”

George beamed, clinking your glasses together before loping off to sell to another customer.

“So, how long have you known my brothers?” A low voice murmured in your ear, and you whirled around, nearly spilling champagne all over Charlie’s front. He caught your elbow with a steady hand, his grip firm but gentle. “Easy, love,” he said, the corner of his mouth lifting.

“Oh, uh, f-five years? I think,” you stuttered, looking anywhere but his smoldering eyes.

“Then how have we never met? I’d certainly remember you.”

You shrugged a shoulder, taking what you hoped was a casual sip of wine. “Seems you haven’t been paying much attention,” you teased, finally meeting his eyes.

His smirk grew into a soft smile. “What a grave error on my part.”

“Are you in town for the event, or…?” You could feel heat climbing up your neck, but you willed yourself to keep a level head. You knew how to flirt, had done so with plenty of blokes in your time, but none as handsome and disarming as Charlie.

“I thought so, but evidently the Gods had other ideas.”

You knees nearly buckled. “Like?” You coyly tilted your head, allowing your eyes to trail across his broad shoulders, down his chest. Was this guy seriously flirting with you? You knew you weren’t unattractive, but Charlie was…phew.

“Like…” He flushed a little, betraying his suave demeanor, and your heart slipped a little further into his hands. “Meeting the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.”

“Ever?” You teased, pulling your lower lip between your teeth.

“In this life and probably the next.” He took a sip of his whiskey, letting his eyes wander over you the same way yours did him. And based on the way they darkened, his pupils widening just a fraction, he liked what he saw as much as you did.

“Does that line always work for you?”

“Well, considering I’ve never tried it, why don’t you tell me?”

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Charlie slammed the door shut behind you before crowding you against it, his lips colliding with yours. He tasted like whiskey and pumpkin, with a tinge of cigarette smoke that went straight to your head, and you eagerly tangled your tongue with his, pushing his blazer off his shoulders.

“Colloportus,” he murmured against your mouth, and you heard the lock schick into place. He shrugged his blazer off, tossing it somewhere in the dark storage closet, and his hands were on you again, one sliding into your hair, the other on your lower back, drawing you closer.

“Charlie?” You gasped as his lips traveled down your neck, leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along your skin, his short beard a rough contrast to the suppleness of his kiss.

“Yeah, honey?” he panted, lifting his head to meet your eyes.

“I don’t usually…” you trailed off, nerves suddenly closing your throat.

His hand slid from your hair to cup your cheek, his callouses rough against your heated skin. “Me neither,” he murmured, resting his forehead against yours. “We can do whatever you want, love. I’ll take you to the nicest restaurant in London, or on Dragon-back to the Swiss Alps, or on a cruise ship to the Americas—”

You cut him off with a kiss, throwing your arms around his neck. “And if I want you to fuck me?” you said between pecks, tugging at the roots of his hair.

He smiled and scooped you up by the meat of your thighs, wrapping your legs around his waist so your skirt pushed up over your hips. “Then I’ll fuck you as often as ya’ like.” He turned and dropped you onto some kind of work bench, sending the papers and junk flying with a sweep of his arm.

“The twin’s are going to be pissed,” you giggled, leaning back onto the wood so he could continue his previous assault on your neck.

“Fuck ‘em,” he muttered, nipping at your collarbones. His hands gripped your thighs with dizzying strength, the same hands that handled massive, fire-breathing beasts, and spread you open for his hungry gaze. “Seven fucking hells,” he breathed, running his hands down your inner thighs. “You’re perfect.”

In a swift motion, he ripped your tights at the seam, the sound sending a pulse of arousal to your already dripping pussy, a sharp gasp forcing it’s way from your throat. His fingers glided over your wet panties, so delicate compared to the force he’d used heartbeat before.

Your hips lifted slightly, chasing his gentle touch. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d been this desperate for someone to touch you, your entire body tuned to his every breath, every twitch of his muscles. He looked so fucking good leaning over you, his previously tidy shirt rumpled, his hair in copper waves around his face, his lips a little red from your fevered kisses.

With his ring finger, her drew your panties to the side, his middle fingers gliding through your slit and circling your clit twice. “Already so wet for me, honey. What did I do to deserve such a warm welcome?” he purred, leaning down to press a sweet kiss to your forehead.

Your brain couldn’t formulate a response, his touch mind-numbing. Pleasure radiated form his fingers, syrupy and languid, with none of the frenetic energy from before. A moan slipped past your lips, your eyes fluttering closed as he coaxed your pussy to bloom for him.

“And such pretty sounds.” He rolled up his shirt sleeve with his free hand, exposing the muscles and veins along his thick forearm. Slowly, he slipped his middle finger inside of you, large enough to stretch you slightly.

“Fuck, Charlie,” you whined, raising yourself onto your elbows so you could watch him play with you.

“I suppose I shouldn’t stretch this out too long, someone might come looking for us,” he mused. “But I could spend a fucking eternity spoiling this greedy little pussy.” He slipped another finger into you channel, pumping them a few times just to feel your cunt suck him back in. “Would you like that, love?” He tilted your chin up with his free hand, an unspoken request for an answer.

“Y-yes, Charlie. Please,” you panted, stretching up to steal a quick peck. He deepened the kiss, shifting his weight to press you back down onto the desk as his tongue flirted with yours. His hand picked up the pace, fucking you steadily as he devoured your mouth, teeth skating along your swollen flesh before sucking lightly on your tongue.

You don’t know what God blessed him with such a skilled tongue, but you needed to make an offering in thanks stat.

But since you couldn’t do that…

“Charlie?” You asked, reaching around to touch his wrist between your legs.

He immediately stopped, withdrawing his hand completely. “What’s wrong?” He searched your face for signs of discomfort, his brows drawn together.

You pressed a kiss to his bearded cheek before sliding off the desk. He watched you, confused and concerned, then you lowered yourself to your knees and his jaw went slack.

“Honey, you don’t have to—”

“Please, Charlie?” You batted your lashes up at him, tugging lightly on his belt.

“Merlin’s fucking—I can’t say no to you when you look at me like that, sweetheart.”

“Then don’t,” you teased, undoing his belt and zipper. You could see the outline of his cock against his black boxers, thick and throbbing as you glided your fingers over it.

He sucked in a breath, gripping the edge of the table with one of his hands. Encouraged, you dragged the flat of your tongue over the fabric, feeling the heat of him, the wetness collecting by the swollen head.

“I must have died in the dragon pit and gone to heaven. My god, woman,” he rasped, running his fingers through his hair to keep it from blocking the sight.

You giggled, licking a few more stripes before reaching up to free him. His cock sprung out, veiny and flushed pink. And, to your absolute shock and delight, even his cock was freckled.

“You have the prettiest cock I’ve ever seen,” you praised, and his cheeks flushed pink. You laved your tongue along the thickest vein, earning a throaty groan. You sucked the head into your mouth, lapping up the precum pearling from his slit.

Charlie’s head fell back, one of his hands sliding into your hair. He didn’t add any pressure, just held you as you started to suck him, moving a little further down each time. You wrapped your hand around the base, there was no way you’d fit the entire thing in your mouth, and started pumping him, matching the motions with your mouth. His skin was like velvet, soft and smooth, and you loved feeling him pulse against your tongue with every dip of your head.

“You are too damn good at that. So fucking pretty swallowing my cock.” His thumb stroked your cheek while he gazed down at you, stars in his eyes. “You like sucking me off, honey?”

You nodded as best you could, flicking your tongue at the groove just beneath the head. His hips lurched forward, a grunt escaping through his teeth.

“Fuck, sorry, love. I’m trying to stay still for ya’, but feels so fucking good.”

You reached up and guided his hand into your hair, then used it to push your head down, giving him the best puppy dog eyes you could muster.

He smirked, his hand fisting in your hair. “Whatever you say, gorgeous.” He started moving your head along his shaft, rocking his hips in time with the movements. He went easy at first, but as drool began to track down your chin, your eyes rolling back in bliss, he picked up the pace. But he only fucked your mouth for a few, punishing strokes before lifting you off of him. He slammed his mouth to yours, a harsh, hungry kiss that had you seeing stars.

You whined in protest, but he shushed you by lifting you into the air and setting you on the table once more.

“If you thought I wasn’t going to fuck you, you’re mad,” he gruffed, dragging the hot head of his cock through your pussy lips. “That is, if you still want me to?”

“Yes, fuck, now, Charlie. Please.” You spread your legs a little wider for him,

“Anything for you, love.” He leaned down and kissed you again, sliding his cock into your depths at the same time. The feeling of being filled by him bordered on divine, silken and hot. He was stretching you just enough to leave you with that delicious ache between your legs. You moaned into each other’s mouths, the sounds caught up by his tongue parting your lips and caressing yours.

He drew his hips back, agonizingly slow, letting you feel every inch of one another, before he slammed back in, knocking the air from your lungs. It seemed he was at the end of his control, his grip on your hips bruising as he fucked you hard, jostling the desk beneath you and making the shelves along the walls rock.

“Fuck, Charlie. Feels so good,” you cried, trying and failing to keep yourself quiet as he railed you, every thrust like a lightning strike of pleasure through your body.

“Yeah? You take my cock so well, baby. Wet little pussy squeezing the life outta’ me,” he groaned, his hair tickling your face. “So good f’me, honey. Like you were made for me.”

Your muscles tightened, veering closer and closer to your peak, his praise sending little pulses of bliss your clit.

“You like being praised, baby? Hearing how perfect you are for me? Fuck, I can feel how much you like that, squeezing me so hard.” His hand slipped between you, the rough pads of his fingers rubbing tight circles over you puffy clit. “Come for me, y/n. I know you can. I want to feel you fall apart around me. That’s a good girl—”

Your cry drowned out his praise as your peak crashed over you, visceral and exquisite. The world vanished, blown apart by the burst of starlight in your chest as you came for him. Pulses of pleasure made your body shake and buck, your eyes squeezing shut as he fucked you through it.

“That’s it, honey. Such a good fucking girl. Merlin, you’re gonna make me come.” He rested on his forearms, braced on either side of your head, hitting an entirely new angle as you came back into your body.

“Charlie,” you whimpered, clinging to him. ”I’ve got ya’, love. Don’t worry. Just a little longer—fuck.” A strangled groan broke from his throat and you felt his cock swell, then kick against your walls, the first hot stream of release painting your insides.

He rested his head on your shoulder as he muscles trembled, his hips pressed flush to yours. You wrapped you arms around his shoulders, still weak from that soul-shaking orgasm. His lips passed over your shoulder, your clavicle, up your neck, before finally ghosting of your lips, soft and breathless.

You remained like that for longer than you probably should have, enraptured with one another. You'd been complete strangers a few hours ago, but this wasn't a hook up akin to a one night stand. This was the reunification of two beings, the re-raveling of a soul tie.

“Y/n,” he murmured, kissing your forehead, your temple. “Y/n, y/n, y/n…” He held you like he'd die if he let go.

“Charlie,” you exhaled, nuzzling behind his ear.

“Can I take you to Romania with me?” He whispered, a joke, you presumed, but there was no humor in his voice.

“I've never seen a dragon before—”

The door knob jiggled, and someone pressed against it, the wood groaning.

“Shit.” Charlie jumped backwards, scrambling to right your dress and smooth your hair.

“Hey, Freddie! This doors locked for some reason.”

“Charlie, your dick,” you snickered while he wiped away a smudge of your lipstick.

“Fuck, right.”

“Alohamor—”

“COLLOPORTUS,” Charlie barked out, snatching his wand from his boot.

“Charlie?” George called, knocking on the door.

Charlie tucked you behind him and undid the spell, peeking the door open. “If you say another word, you're dragon food,” he growled, and you had to clap a hand over your mouth to keep from laughing.

“You got a girl in there, mate?” George asked, and you could hear the shit-eating grin on his face.

“George,” Charlie warned.

“Fine, fine. You've got ten minutes before I actually need to get in there.” George knocked once more then strode away, his footsteps disappearing down the hall.

Charlie sagged against the door, exhaling. “I'm sorry, love,” he said, turning to you.

You pecked his cheek. “Don't be sorry, that was the best lay of my life.” You tried to reassure him, despite the curdling sadness in your chest.

A shy smile broke through his serious expression. “Yeah?”

You nodded. “I can only imagine how good it would be when we had all the time in the world,” you murmured against his ear, a shiver rolling down his spine. It was better to leave it like this, flirty, casual, than with whatever…that was.

“I mean, we’ve got ten minutes…”

You patted his chest and slipped out of the door, finding George waiting at the end of the hall, arms crossed.

His jaw dropped. “Y/n!”

Charlie ran out behind you. “I swear to God, George—”

“Are all Weasley's this dramatic?” You closed George's mouth with a finger under his chin.

“Where did—when did—how?” George stuttered, looking back and forth between the two of you.

Charlie smirked, shrugging back on his blazer. “I'll explain when you're older,” Charlie teased. “Would you like a drink, y/n?”

“I'd love one.“ You threaded your arm through his, and together returned to the party.

> Part Two

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Thanks for reading!

If you enjoyed, please check out my published work here.

Much love,

Allie

[slaymybreathaway]

Love Potion (George Weasley x Reader)

Part 1 of ?

Content: cursing, friendly banter

Word Count: 1.4k

♡ Main Masterlist

♡ Wizarding World Masterlist

♡ Mini-series Chapterlist

I sat at the table in the Gryffindoor common room, my head bent over a textbook as I searched for something, anything that would be of use to me. Beside me was an empty sheet of parchment with the words 'The Ethics of Love Potions' scrawled at the top of it.

I heard footsteps coming from the staircase that led up to the dorms, but I didn't look behind me to see who it was. I was too focused on getting this essay done, even though it was nearing midnight.

"What are you doing out of bed after lights out?" A voice spoke, in a horrible impression of Professor McGonnagal. A few years ago, I would be frightened by the words alone but I knew better now. I could know that voice anywhere.

"Hello Georgie," I chuckled, keeping my eyes on the textbook as the tall rehead padded along the carpeted wood floors to sit on the seat opposite mine.

"How'd you know it was me?" He asked with a cheeky smirk, his eyes twinkling in the light of the fire that was permanently alight in the common room.

I glanced up at him, before returning my gaze to the paper infront of me. "You're not the best at impressions... Fred's much better," I shrug, trying to hide my smile.

George scoffed as he leaned back in his chair crossing his arms over his chest. "No he's not. I'm much better than Fred is. Much better looking too, you kn-" he started to get annoyed as he spoke, but stopped in his tracks once he saw me trying to stifle a giggle. "You tosser," he rolled his eyes when he realised I was just messing with him.

♡

I met the Weasley twins when I was nine years old. Our fathers worked in the ministry together and became close friends so Arthur Weasley decided to invite me and my Dad along to his family's camping trip to the lake.

As soon as we arrived, my eyes were drawn to the two boys around my age that looked exactly like eachother. They stood with their hands in their pockets, as grown ups often do, with michevious grins plastered onto their faces.

Their father introduced them as Fred and George though then, I couldn't tell which one was which.

"Do you talk?" One of them asked.

"Or just stand there staring at us?" The other one finished, tilting his head to the left as he spoke.

"I talk," I crossed my arms, trying to make myself appear tougher than I was. "And I wasn't staring at you, I was just..." my voice trailed off, as I struggled to come up with a lie.

"It's alright," one of them shrugged.

"We get it alot," the other jut in.

"It's because of our rugged good looks,"

The first raised his eyebrows.

I rolled my eyes and opened my mouth to ask what good looks he was referring to when the other one spoke again.

"Well my good looks, he's an ugly git," he spoke, nodding his head towards his identical twin brother. I laughed at the joke, watching the boy who said it closely. He had a small bump on his nose, one that separated him from his brother, and always seemed to speak second.

"Hey!" The first brother shouted, throwing a fake punch that turned into a playful brawl. Neither of them hit to hurt and it was more dramaticed than serious. They both stopped when their mother pulled them apart and scolded them, to which they just giggled about as soon as her back was turned.

By the end of the trip I had become best friends with the twins. Every weekend that followed, I begged my dad to take me to the Burrow to see them and every weekend that he said no, he'd come home from work to find George and Fred sitting in his kitchen, eating biscuits.

I loved them both dearly but George always intruiged me the most. When I was younger it was just pure fascination, a need to be close to him so that I could figure out why he seemed to always have that mischevious glint in his eye. As I grew older, these feelings of fascination turned to feelings of infatuation. My stomach seemed to flutter whenever he was around, my mind foggy when he said my name in that affectionate tone that he uses.

My love for George is a secret that I'd take to the grave. He is my best friend after all, the person who knows me best, the only one that can cheer me up when I'm feeling blue. I wouldn't fuck that up for the world

♡

"What are you doing still up anyways? I doubt the potions essay is what's keeping you awake," I asked, closing my textbook with a sigh.

A look of fright crossed George's, usually carefree, face. "We had a potions essay?"

I let out a laugh, handing him my parchment. "Yeah, due last class tomorrow. You'd want to have a move on,"

Georges eyes scanned the parchment as he sighed in relief. "Fucking scared me there. I got a Hufflepuff to do it for me, in exchange for a pack of Puking Pastilles," he slid the parment back across the table.

I shook my head at this but said nothing, I learned long ago that any arguing with the twins over schoolwork is a waste of time.

"How come you're having trouble with it?" George asked, his gaze running over my face. "You're fucking brilliant at potions,"

I ran a hand over my face, trying to disguise the smile that was growing on my face at his compliment. It was true, I was top of the class in Potions and was the one who created the recipes for the twins' Skiving Snackboxes but hearing George say it, however, made me feel important.

"Yeah but this isn't just about making the potion, it's about debating whether it's right or not in the grand scheme of things," I rambled on, as I usually do when talking about potions. "And I don't know what to write because I've never been under the effects of a love potion,"

George laughed at this. "Really? Never been given one by a love-struck second year?" He asked with a look of joking suprise.

"No!" I rolled my eyes at his joke "Though I'm suprised neither you or Fred has asked me to brew one up to try and woo Angelina Johnstone," I chuckled.

"Me?" George asked, his eyebrows furrowed "What would I want to do with Angelina Johnstone? She's Fred's girl,"

I put my hand's up, in defence. "Just an example! I don't exactly get told about all the girls you fancy," I pointed out.

George opened his mouth to speak but then quickly shut it again, like he had decided against what he was going to say. "Fair... what are you gonna do about this essay then? Spike yourself with a love potion just to see what it's like?" he joked.

"Hardly," I sighed, looking down. "Even if I did, who would be willing to have me make a fool of myself infront of them for two hours?"

We sat in silence for a few moments, with me tracing the letters on the front cover of my potions textbook and George staring into the fireplace, his face full of thought.

"You could do it with me if you want?" George finally spoke. "I mean, you always make a fool of yourself infront of me, anyways. This wouldn't be that different,"

I almost choked on my spit at his words. "What? You're seriously considering this?" I put my hands on the table.

The boy infront of me shrugged. "Better it be your best friend than some poor, unsuspecting sod," he let out a smile. "Besides, I need something new to slag you about. I've been overusing the 'can't get a boyfriend to save your life' joke too much recently, and it's starting to become a bit mean,"

I scowl when he says that last bit, before my face drops into a look of consideration. Of course, I wouldn't get to figure out the true ethics of love potions, since I'm already in love with George without the need for anything to inhance it but... it would help me to where I stand on the use of love potions.

"Alright... let's do it,"

♡

Yay!!! So excited to be doing a lil George miniseries

Comment to be added to taglist x

[moontopuff]

Summary: twins hear some nasty rumours about you, and don't like people talk like that about their favourite Hufflepuff.

Other: hurt/angst? I mean, group of students are gossiping about your relationship with twins in a nasty way... its mostly about twins reactions and their wave of protectiveness towards you.

The corridors of Hogwarts bustled with the usual energy, as Fred and George Weasley strolled through the hall, joking about their next prank. Their conversation slowly faded as they neared a group of Hufflepuff girls chattering animatedly just ahead.

They weren’t ones to eavesdrop, not random students, because their topics were usually just too boring. Still, when your name slipped into the conversation, both twins fell silent, instinctively tuning in. It wasn’t like they could help it when it was you they were talking about.

"…Right! And Ernie asked me to the ball yesterday, so I’m going too!" a blonde girl said excitedly, her voice carrying through the hall.

"Good for you, girlie!" her friend, a brunette, chimed in, clapping her on the shoulder. But then her tone shifted, quieter now. "And on the topic… Do you know if anybody asked (Y/N) to the ball yet?"

Fred and George slowed their pace, glancing at each other with smirks. Did somebody ask their favorite Hufflepuff yet? You didn't tell them anything, and if they will know thanks to gossip... Well, they will use it to tease you, for sure. That's why they stopped their walk, pretending to be interested in something else, while listening to conversation.

"I talked with that girl who is close to her, and I know that nope! And isn’t it kinda sad that nobody’s asked her to the ball yet?" another girl snickered.

"Yeah," the blonde one agreed, her voice softer but tinged with clear jealousy. "Especially since she’s always seen with the Weasley twins and Lee Jordan. I figured she’d be the first to have a date. She's close with them, after all."

"Exactly," the brunette chimed in, her eyes wide with faux innocence. "I mean, if she’s so close to the twins, how come neither of them wants to take her? I heard some Ravenclaw's talking that it's probably she’s… you know… giving it up to both of them, but they still don't want her, and thus she still can’t even get a proper date."

Weasley twins blinked in unison, too surprised to do more than that. That's... not what they were expecting to hear.

Fred woke up first and felt a wave of disgust wash over him, his hands balling into fists. George’s jaw clenched beside him, the tension building between them as they forced themselves to stay silent and listen.

"Yeah, like, that’s just pathetic," the blonde said, her voice turning mocking. "She’s hanging around them all the time, probably hooking up with both of them, and yet here she is, still dateless. That’s… well, kind of sad, don’t you think?"

A chorus of giggles followed, the sound hitting Fred and George like a slap in the face. The idea that anyone could think that they are spending time with you only for your body... That you were only their plaything, while that couldn't be more far from the truth. The fact that people believed it was happening and were laughing at you for it—made their blood boil.

"She’s probably desperate," one of the girls added, her tone casual but venomous, and that was the last thing twins' heard as the girls started walking away and their giggles finally faded into the distance. With that, the twins also resumed walking, not a world exchange between them, just cold silence. Neither of them spoke for a few moments, their minds racing with anger and guilt. You were their friend—someone they cared about deeply, and hearing people spread lies and cruel rumors about you left a bitter taste in their mouths.

"You think she’s heard any of this?" George asked quietly, his voice tinged with concern.

Fred’s frown deepened. "If she has, she hasn’t said a word. But Merlin, if she knew what they were saying…"

They both knew how kind and loyal you were—always trying to avoid conflict, always looking out for others. You weren’t the type to confront people, not unless it was absolutely necessary. You’d rather keep your head down, maybe even shrug off the rumors with a weak smile, even if they were cutting you deep inside. The thought of you, bashful and kind as always, hearing something like this made Fred’s stomach twist in knots.

"She doesn’t deserve this," George muttered, shaking his head.

Fred’s eyes narrowed, a flicker of determination sparking behind them. "We’ve got to do something. She shouldn’t have to deal with this rubbish."

George smirked slightly, though there was no humor in it. "Something big. Make sure everyone knows the truth without making her feel embarrassed about it."

Fred nodded, already hatching a plan in his mind. "Subtle enough that she won’t notice what we’re up to. But obvious enough that no one will ever believe those lies again."

They continued down the hall, their thoughts already racing ahead to what needed to be done. This wasn’t just about protecting you from gossip—this was about reminding everyone that you were worth far more than the cruel words of a few petty girls. That you were more than your body. You were loyal, hardworking, and kind, and anyone who thought less of you clearly didn’t know you at all.

"By the time we’re done," Fred said, a glint of mischief finally returning to his eyes, "she’ll have half of Hogwarts wishing they were her date to the ball."

George grinned, feeling the tension between them ease as they began to plot. "And we’ll make sure everyone knows she’s not someone to mess with."

Silently, they decided that you now, along with Ginny, are under his protection: who will do wrong to you, will do wrong to them, and thus, punishment will be given. They knew you could handle yourself, but why let you do that, when they could do it themselves, and spare you dealing with rubbish people? The twins walked off with renewed purpose, ready to set their plans in motion.

[hooneeyydroops]

Could the sorting hat be wrong?

Weasley Twins x Reader

Paring: Platonic!Weasley twins x Dysgraphia!Dyscalculia!Ravenclaw!Reader

Notes: Comfort scenario specifically thought for people with learning disabilities (specifically dysgraphia and dyscalculia) like me :’) Also, I’m currently sick but decided to write this anyway so, sorry in advance for any mistakes.

Summary: Fred and George help you revising for your O.W.L.s.

Word count: 1.6k

Enjoy!

You were sitting in the classroom, next to your gryffindor friend Hermione.It was potion class and everyone in the room was furiously taking notes as professor Snape was lecturing you on how to brew a strengthening solution.

And as always you were left behind.

You were furiously scribbling on your notebook, trying to catch up with Snape’s words as the page under your feather was covered with erasures because you spelt the word wrong or wrote it in a non readable way. You felt yourself growing more and more frustrated.

After a while, Hermione noticed your struggles. “Don’t worry, I’ll pass you my notes after class” she whispered, a small smile on her lips.

You quietly thanked her before going back to your thoughts. Your mind was racing at this point, negativity washing over you as all kinds of thoughts were popping inside your head.

Why were you cursed with this learning disability thing?And Merlin, how could you, someone who struggled with writing and doing basic calculus, be sorted in ravenclaw? That definitely had to be a joke, you were sure the sorting hat had been wrong all this time.

The class ended and fortunately it was the last for the day.

“Here are my notes, y/n” Hermione said, smiling at you.“Just make sure to bring them back to me tomorrow” she said, waving at you as she reached out for Harry and Ron. You waved back, a small smile on your lips. Hermione has always been so kind. She knew about your learning disabilities and she would always try and help you out in any way she could. It was very kind of her, sure. But it made you feel like you were behind others, not being able to do some of the most basic school stuff.

It was now the afternoon and since you had to study for your O.W.L.s you decided to go revising and copying Hermione’s notes in the library. Once you got there the smell of old books filled your lungs.

“This smell always makes me feel at home”

you thought, a small smile on your lips as you sat down with your books, feather and notebook, the calm atmosphere of the library making you relax as you slowly started copying Hermione’s notes, focusing on making your hand writing as neat as possible and not mixing up any letters inside the words you were writing.

After a while you finally finished and it was time to revise it. You closed your notebook, starting to list out loud, with a soft tone, the ingredients of the potion, the quantities and how to brew it. But as soon as you started listing the ingredients and the quantities you slowly started to get frustrated. You kept messing up the quantities of the ingredients.

“…1/2 of moonston- ugh no, I messed up again” you muttered, feeling like a failure.

In that moment someone unexpected entered the library.

Your eyes flickered to the two red heads who entered the library and were walking towards you.

“There you are, y/n!” George said, in a definitely not so soft tone that got him a death stare from the librarian.“Keep quiet!” you said softly “we’re in the library! But, why are you even here? Did you guys even ever step foot inside of here?” you asked sarcastically. “Yep we did, but to benefit our pranks of course~” Fred said, his usual smirk plastered on his face “but this time we have nothing mischievous in mind” George said, this time his voice was quieter.

Both of the twins sat down to your sides, George on the left and Fred on the right.

“We had a chat with Granger today and she said you had an hard time during Snape’s lesson today, is that right?” Fred asked.

You felt your frustration coming back but it was quickly replaced with sadness. “Yeah that’s right” you muttered, eyes down as you stared at your now open notebook.

The boys knew about your problems with writing and calculus and sometimes they even managed to help you a bit, giving you actually smart tips such as using objects to help you count or visualise what does that quantity actually looks in real life. For the writing, they just suggested to ask for notes after class, just like they used to do.

“Guys, do you think the sorting hat might have been wrong about sorting me into ravenclaw?” You asked, a concerned look on your face as you were looking at both of them. “What? Why?” They both said, confused as hell. “There’s no way, the sorting hat is never wrong.” George said. “Well, all ravenclaws are smart, right? And I can’t even take notes without writing incoherent words or messing up numbers. I can’t even remember dates. It’s embarrassing. It’s humiliating.” You said, a sad look plastered on your face.

“You know not every ravenclaw is book smart…right?” Fred asked, a bit concerned.

“Well yes of course. But I’m not street smart either. Why was I even sorted into it?” You asked a bit frustrated.

“You’re definitely not street smart” Fred started a playful smile on his lips “but you’re definitely book smart in our opinion. You’re always here reading and trying to learn new things” George continued, a small smile on his face “plus you’ve always been so creative and that’s a ravenclaw trait, you know that?” Fred finished.

You fell silent for a moment.

“Okay, you guys win, you’re right” you say, a small giggle escaping your mouth. “It’s just…I hate this dysgraphia and dyscalculia thing…it’s horrible” you explained.

“We know that y/n. But it’s not a reason to bring your entire persona down. Yes you may have trouble with writing and doing calculus but you’ve probably read the same amount of books, if not more, of your friend Granger” Fred said, his hand gently rubbing your shoulder in a comforting way “yeah, and you’re probably one of the most creative and clever witches we know, always finding creative solutions at things. That’s definitely something to be proud of, not everyone can do that. Especially some ordinary booksmart, straight As ravenclaw.” George finished, a soft expression on his face as he looked at you.

“Thank you guys” you said with a small smile.

“Now, how’s revising for your O.W.L.s doing?” Fred asked, looking at your notebook.

“Horribly.” You say, face palming yourself in a dramatic manner “I can’t memorise the quantities of the ingredients and it’s driving me mad. I’ve been here for two hours already!” You said desperately.

“Mhh…” the boys hummed, picking up your notebook trying to read your notes. “Strengthening potion, hey George I remember this one!” Fred said smiling at his twin.

“Hey y/n don’t you think that maybe visualising the quantities of the ingredients might help you in this case?” George asked. “Yeah you may be right…but where I could even find the ingredients now?” you asked them, a puzzled look on your face.

The twins smirked.

“Come with us, we have everything you need” Fred said standing up, as you and George stood up after him, you quickly packing your things before starting to follow both of them.

The two guys stopped once they entered a room hidden by a secret passage. The room kind of looked like the potions’ class because of it’s location (under the school) but it only had two cauldrons and one desk. Near the walls there were many shelves with loads of ingredients of any kind.

“This is our secret room!” Fred said, excitement in hos voice “it’s here that we create our products” he continued. “Luckily you can also brew potions here since we have basically everything. So let’s get started, yeah?” Fred finished, a big smile on his face.

You laughed at his expression and his excitement. “Okay, okay” you said, still giggling.

“Okay so first I need ¼ of moon stone.” you read out loud from your notebook. The two gingers quickly searched on their shelves. “Found it” George shouted, bringing you the ingredient. “Thank you. Now 200ml of pomegranate juice”. This time it was Fred who brought you the ingredient.

After you gathered all the ingredients, Fred and Georged started showing you what the quantities looked like.

“Okay so this” said george while cutting the moonstone in four pieces and picking up only one of them “this is ¼ of something. It’s basically one part of an object that you divided into four parts. If the instructions said 2/4 then you would’ve picked two pices of the cutted-in- four moonstone.” George explained as you listened carefully.

30 minutes had passed and you guys finally managed to brew a perfect strengthening potion.

“Well, good job to us” Fred said, holding his hands up as you and George gave him a high five. “Now y/n, let’s see if you can actually remember the quantities now” Fred said.

And they were both right.

You managed to remember all the quantities of the ingredients, along with their names and the procedure.

“I did it guys!!” You shouted in excitement, hugging them.

They both laughed and smiled, hugging you back.

“You’re welcome” Fred said “but please never bring yourself down like you did before ever again” George finished, his arms, along with the ones of his twin, still wrapped around you.

You really were lucky to have such friends in your life.

[rottenherbs]

Something Batty // F.W x hufflepuff! Reader

Summary: You had gotten to your wits end over the winter break. No more homework to get ahead on, no more hobbies that filled your satisfaction. It was you and the empty castle. Could you attempt to write down and locate all the hidden passageways and paintings on the walls? The castle was big, but your desire for an adventure was bigger. 

Word Count: 3.4k

Authors note: reader is Hufflepuff! Honestly you could 1000% fake any of the other houses but since they are a quidditch player it wouldn’t make much sense for them not to be familiar with Fred if they were gryffindor. ((Love u)) thank you for reading. 

[masterlist]

Much Love, Saige 

—————

It was hard to describe the beauty of Hogwarts to those who hadn't seen it before. A castle, right. Large and ornate, right. Dark accademia, of course. People talk about how large Hogwarts in a way that they talk about the weather. Just boring conversation to fill the air. We all know how large it is, but you can't really fathom the amount of moving paintings on the wall, the amount of locked doors, the amount of hidden passageways, until you count them. 

You honestly couldn’t think of a better way to spend your time. It was winter break, the new year had come and gone and you had still a few weeks until classes would start once more. You missed your friends, most of them off with their families or on trips to places much warmer than the Scottish Highlands. The mountains had a distinct way of making you feel even more trapped in by snow than during the summer months.

You were absolutely, ultimately, and utterly bored.

Laying face up on your bed, you spread your legs starfish style, looking up at the four poster in dread. Another day - nothing to do. 

“Get out of bed for dear god.” You moaned to yourself. Your dormitory was empty, all of your roommates off with their families and friends. You had actually begged to stay at Hogwarts over the winter break, wanting to do it at least once over your term here, but it was more dreadful than you imagined. 

“Maybe if I stare at the ceiling for long enough I could catch the atoms moving.” You mumbled, your inner thoughts falling out of your lips. It’s not like anyone was around, you might as well talk to yourself. 

Taking a few more minutes to lay in silence, you flopped your head to the side trying to read the clock on the wall.

7:45am

Flopping your head back, you bit your lip in frustration.

”Come on.’ You encouraged yourself, slouching yourself up and over the edge of the bed. Taking your first few steps, you looked around trying to find the comfy sweat set you had gotten for quidditch practice. Tucked neatly in your dresser, you pulled out the matching set, relieved that at least over the break you were not expected in your uniforms. 

Feeling accomplished purely by changing your clothing, you grabbed your field guide notebook and shoved it in your pant pocket, making your way through the common room. 

A few students had made their way out of the bedrooms, mostly the academic students with their nose in their books. Most of the students who had stayed over the break would be asleep past lunch time, catching up on as much rest as they could before the school year starts again. 

Like most days, you didn’t recognize most of the students, giving small smiles to those who met your eyes as you kept on towards the entrance. 

The sun had just created the mountains, cascading a warm glow across the wooden pillars wrapped thoroughly with vines and plants. Part of you was grateful that you got so much vitamin d and oxygen from purely the hufflepuff common room. 

Exiting into the hallway, your senses were overtaken by the kitchens just around the corner. The smell of bacon and warm maple syrup made your stomach rumble immediately. You fought yourself to just enter the kitchens now, knowing the house elf’s would feed you in a heartbeat, but you turned and made your way up the stairs to eat in the great hall as they intended. 

Climbing the stairs, you passed a few paintings, still fast asleep in their little worlds, the sounds of their snores only faintly audible to your ears. Stopping in your tracks you decided here was as good a place as any to begin counting. 

Pulling out your notebook, you flipped to the newest page making columns for the paintings, where they were, and if they were nice or not. You thought it might be valuable to you to know who would be willing to talk to you later in case you begin to lose your marbles over the next few weeks.  

To your right was a smaller wooden frame image of a young woman, her clothes slightly tattered but still full of color. Her head rested on her hands held up by a beautiful throne that she sat on. Her crown tipped slightly with her head but not enough to warrant it to fall. Writing on your notepad; Queen (?), Hufflepuff hallway, n/a

You made a mental note to see if she was awake later to find out if she was nice or not, but knew if you woke her up now your findings may be skewed. Walking to the next panting you did the same. 

Lord Barquete, Hufflepuff hallway, n/a 

Making your way down the hallway, your notebook filled up nicely, the information slowly growing in your head more and more now that you had given the paintings more than a glance. You were amazed at the many different painting styles and the way they revealed more about the people and characters inside. Magic was interesting, but art was fascinating. 

After a half hour of writing, you made your way to the great hall, now thoroughly starving. Slapping the notebook closed, you shoved it back in your pants pocket ready to devour whatever was made for breakfast. 

“Quite the notes you were taking back there.” A voice loomed behind you. Jumping out of your skin, you turned around quickly, now face to face — well not exactly face to face — with one of the gryffindor beaters, you honestly had no clue which one. 

“Sorry didn’t mean to give you that much of a fright.” He laughed, his hands up near his chest in defense. His smile was infectious, relieving your nerves immediately. You smiled and regained your balance. 

“Fred.” He outstretched his hand, taking yours mid air. “I wasn't like.. stalking you i just saw you on the way here. I don't think anyone’s given the paintings that much attention, unwilling filch cleans them.” He smiled, his hand still shaking yours. You chuckled at his continuous action, the feeling now warm and slightly foolish. 

“Y/n — Yeah, uh I decided to write down and attempt to count all of the patinings.” You shrugged your shoulders, your hand slipping from his fingertips back to your sides. Your eyes glance quickly from his eyes to his hands, hoping he didn’t notice.

”All of them?” He scoffed.”You might be seriously batty.” 

“All of them.” You repeated, nodding your head. “I don't think I could conceptualize how absolutely bored I am.” You chuckle, turning slightly to walk towards an empty seat at a table. Fred followed, his interest in your little adventure growing further. 

“What, you don't have quidditch practice every day?” He motions towards your outfit, his eyebrow raised. 

“Do you have quidditch practice everyday?” You ask, your eyes widening at his question. Sitting down at the wooden table, two plates appeared in front of both of you. 

“Uh yeah unfortunately. They asked if we could stay back this break. Especially since my brother had just started this year he really could use the help.” He chuffed, his hands working in tandem with his words, grabbing several sausages and links to pile onto his plate. 

“Ah, it seems like fun though. Got the whole family on the team now eh?” You tipped, your eyes looking at the banquet in front of you, not knowing where to start. You grabbed the pitcher of orange juice and began to pour. 

“I’m not sure, it can sorta feel like i can't escape my family.” He mumbled, his voice slightly lower as he spoke. The words hit you like bullets, relating deeply to his sentiment. 

“I know how you feel. I wanted to stay over break to kinda — escape from it all.” You said, settling the juice down and rethinking what you said. “That sounds dramatic. I’m just burnt out, I suppose , from my family.” You shrugged, the words only touching the surface of your home challenges. 

Fred nodded his head, his fork now poking at the food on his plate. 

”I get it. It’s not bad to want to get away sometimes.” He shrugged, wanting to know more but not wanting to pry too early. He was at least happy to have breakfast with someone not in his bloodline. 

Both of you ate in silence for a minute, enjoying the food and morning light through the great hall. After Fred finished half of his plate, he cleared his throat. 

“So.” He smiled, his attention fixated on his plate. His fork twitched slightly in his hand. 

“So.” You repeated, a smile growing on your face. You weren't sure what he was about, but something in you was festering about his every move. 

“Do you think i could tag along today?” He turned, his eyebrows furrowed as if to intimate you.

”Not ten minutes ago you called me batty!” You quipped, dropping your fork on top of your plate. 

“Oh right. Well okay.” He laughed, his finger now taping his chin in thought. “I’d be alright being a little batty today.” He looked into the distance, pondering the notion. You lightly hit his shoulder, his face breaking out into a large smile. 

“Okay seriously. Ill respect your craft.” He laughed, flinching away from your hands. “Or whatever you call this little thing” his hands waved around you, the action making your hands raise again in defense, his laughter louder as you pretend to hit him once more. 

You both laughed, turning back to your meals, attempting to catch your breath. 

“Yes you may join me.” You mumbled, taking a large bite of bacon. “But!” You pointed the strip of bacon at him, mock threateningly. “We have got to finish the list eh? No funny business.” 

“Oh please. Funny business is my middle name.” He poshed, his hand resting softly against his chest. You rolled your eyes, finishing the last of the bacon before clearing your plate. 

“I suppose anything is better than being alone.” You added, watching him finish off his breakfast. He held up his napkin, flicking it out from its folden position on the table, sloppily wiping his face. You shook your head in disbelief, turning and standing up. Fred followed, his hands dusting off the crumbs from his jumper, his eyes excited as he waited for you to make the first move. 

“Where first.” He asked plainly, his hands now tucked neatly into his jean pockets. His stature was much taller than you, his height accentuated by his long legs, mostly hidden beneath school robes. 

Clearing your throat, you realized how long you had been standing in silence, looking over his frame. You turned towards the entrance, hoping to hide your red cheeks. 

“Uh, this way - “ you began walking ahead, your face scrunched slightly from embarrassment, trying your best to regain composure once you both exited the great hall. Fred followed behind silently, only the sounds of his sneakers hitting the floor in tandem with you alerting you that he was still there. 

Once you walked out of the open doors, Fred met your side, his eyes up and around the hall at the many paintings. Turning down at you, he motioned towards the small notebook in your hands. 

“So what is it that you're writing?” He asked politely, his jaunting banter from before now neutralized as he leaned in to listen. 

“Oh! Uh so, Here ill write who’s in the painting, then where they are located, and if they are nice or not.” You pointed at each section, flipping through the pages that you had written this morning. 

“Nice or not is a good touch. It’s foul to talk to a painting that just insults you for saying good morning.” He scoffs, a tinge of truth coming from his concern. 

“Tell me about it. I passed Gifford Abbot once and he asked if I had any food, I told him now, and he then proceeded to tell the portrait next to him how much of a waste the new Hufflepuff students were.” You laughed, both of you approaching a new painting. 

“That’s insane.” Fred stifled. “I love going to the kitchens. Surprised you haven't caught me sneaking in over near your common room before.” He nudged, your eyes bouncing between his face and the painting in front of you. You couldn't help but feel distracted by his personality, the thought of catching him at night making your stomach churn, or was it butterflies….. 

“You seem like the type to get into trouble.” You stated, your pencil working on the notebook in your hands, trying to not take the chance and look at the boy. You couldn't tell if he was teasing, just being playful, or something else. 

“Yeah that's an accurate statement.” He leaned over, looking at what you were writing. ”Time to find out if they're nice or not — HELLO Sir….” He moved over, attempting to read the placard by the painting's frame, the sound of his voice boomed the painting awake. “Sir Goerge Von Rheticus.” His voice faltered off as he read, the painting sitting himself up in his chair, his eyes staring daggers into Fred's head. 

“What is it that you need, boy.” Sir Rheticus spat, his eyes visibly sleepy, blinking slowly. 

“Well. Me and my partner here were just doing a study on the paintings you see.” He nudged you, urging you to finish off where he started. 

“Yes um… Me and my partner —“ you coughed, flipping though your notebook anxiously, feeling quite put on the spot - “Were wondering about the paintings in the castle. Could you tell us a little about yourself?” You asked, your fingers holding the pencil tightly above the page, waiting for his response. 

“Hmmm.” He sat back, his body a little more relaxed as you spoke. You could feel a change in demeanor when he addressed you, feeling a sense of appreciation for who he was, rather than being awoken so rudely. 

“Well.. My name is George, but do call me Sir Rheticus, I am a mathematician and astronomer. My true surname was Von Lauchen, but my father was brutally executed and my remaining family was exiled. I had chosen Rheticus from the Roman province of Rhaetia.” Rheticus spoke, his words flowing out as if scripted to recite if someone asked who he was.

Your pencil scribbled viciously at his answer, hoping to catch what you could as he spoke. Fred's body standing still next to yours, looking between your notebook and the painting occasionally, fighting off a fit of laughter as you wrote. 

After Rheticus finished, he sat with his hands folded in his lap, waiting patiently for you to cease writing. You looked up after a minute, visibly satisfied with his answer.

”Thank you. Ahem Sir Rheticus. We shall see you around.” You flipped the notebook closed, bowing slighlty at the painting awkwardly and tugging Fred along the hallway, the whole interaction very strange. 

“Are we doing that every time or - “ he asked, your hand still around his wrist as you pulled him further away from the painting. You waited till you felt comfortable that you weren’t in earshot anymore. 

“Dear god, no.” You sighed, opening your book again. “Okay… Nice?” You asked, raising your eyebrows. Fred nodded, watching you write in the notebook. He found your actions cute. This whole idea of writing down the paintings was silly but he had to admit that he has never seen anyone do it before, and you seemed like an original character yourself.

Turning down to the right you looked around, many paintings at your disposal. 

“Okay you pick the next one.” You gestured vaguely, the numerous paintings surrounding you both.  He gestured his head towards a woman down on the right near the end of the hallway. Luckily for you both, she was already away, her hands twiddling with some yarn in front of her. Fred grabbed your wrist, pulling you quickly towards the painting, his fingertips holding your skin sending hot fire through your body. 

Arriving at the portrait, Freds fingers lingered on your skin, his body noticeably closer to yours as you stood. You pulled your notebook out, moving your hands from your sides, grazing his body as you moved. 

“Ahem excuse me.” You spoke quietly, the woman’s hair cascading in front of her face. IT was red and curly, it falling past her elbows and moving as she worked. She looked up from her hands, her pale skin much more noticeable now next to her warm hair. 

“Mmm?” She hummed, her attention only on you, not looking at Fred. She didn’t seem bothered by your interruption, but her gaze felt to push you to your point of distracting her. 

“I was just doing a study on the paintings and wanted to know a little about yourself.” You motioned towards your notebook — “if you had the time i mean,” You added, your voice faltering the more you spoke. 

“Well darling, I'm the Goddess of Fertility.” She spoke plainly, her head tilting lightly. “But i can see you two are doing just fine. I can tell.” She smiled, her eyes now bouncing between you and Fred. Both of your cheeks flamed red 

“oh no i-“

”We aren’t”

“I mean we have not-”

”Not that I wouldn’t-  

“But we wouldn't-“ 

Both of you stumbling over your words, the thought of the painting hinting at your fertility was one thing, but together was another. You both fought over your words, looking at each other every once in a while but feeling immense amounts of embarrassment when your eyes met. 

“I can see things the mortal eye cannot! Do you take me as a liar?” She boasted, your calamity to her prophecy seemed to have stuck a nerve, her hands now ceasing to move in her lap, her body forthright at ridged. 

“No ma’am, we just-“ You started.

”We're not together-“ Fred finished.

”Perhaps not at this moment.” She spoke matter of factly, her hair shaking with her head as she looked at you both. The silence that filled the hallway after that sent chills down your spine. 

“Thank you for your time.” Fred said abruptly, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the doors and walking through them quickly. Your face was red as beets from the conversation, too preoccupied at the interaction to feel the sensation of his hand enveloping yours. 

You both were hit with a freezing cold breeze as you walked outside, the feeling immediately alleviating the warmth on your skin. You took one look at Fred, both bursting out in laughter. 

“That was mad!” He chuffed, his hands on his knees, heaving in the air.

”Fertility?” You shouted, “I’m practically still a child!” 

“These paintings.” He shook his head, his body now upright, his shoulders relaxed. He laughed still lightly at you, not able to beat the thought of her implications. Was she out of her mind? Was there really something here to be built? His mind wracked as he watched you overcome your laughter, standing back up. The wind pushed your hair back, your ears and nose now visibly red from the cold breeze. 

“Alright lets go back in, you're shivering.” He motioned towards the door, his hand on the small of your back urging you forward. You nodded and sniffled as you got inside, the snow following you both as the door shut. 

“So.” He cleared his throat.

”So.” You smiled, looking up at him again. 

“Do we dare try another portrait?” He asked, his eyebrows raised, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. 

“Only if you're feeling batty .”