wheretfismybrother

[wheretfismybrother]

The Slytherin boys 🐍

[wheretfismybrother]

could you write a hurt/comfort where in the battle of hogwarts reader sees fred get hit by an explosion and goes on a rampage until a weak and limping fred stops them from casting the killing curse bc even tho he’s seriously injured he’s worried about them?

(also i absolutely love anyone but you)

i wrote this in one night can you tell lmao, anyways tysm!!! i hope this breaks your heart and puts it back together all at once

wc: 829

cw: talks/depictions of explosions, blood, injury, death, dissociation, reader literally almost kills a man, barely proofread

“Bombarda Maxima!” You heard his voice, you saw his face, you recognized it from the wanted poster you saw of him. Augustus Rookwood, a death eater.

You saw the spell hit right where Fred was standing. You witnessed him go down, disappearing in smoke and debris from the attack.

Once your ears stopped ringing a painful amount and the smoke cleared. You could see his body laid against the wall, head hanging down and his body still.

In the distance could see Rookwood standing there, staring at the destruction he caused with a pleased look. 

Body moving faster than your brain, you were sprinting towards him now. He began to runaway.

You were screaming an array of offensive spells as you chased after him. Reciting every one that you remembered from your dueling classes.

You were able to knock his wand out of his hand when he tried to cast something back at you, it flew somewhere out of reach of the both of you.

Throat sore and legs aching, you didn’t stop chasing after him.

“Diffindo! Confringo!” You moved onto more destructive spells, not caring about the pillars and stone you accidentally hit when the spells missed him.

“Sectumsempra!” A white bolt shot out of your wand, hitting him right in the back and knocking him forward into the ground.

You didn’t expect the spell to work, more of you didn’t know what to expect. You’d never used it before, never learned about it.

The only time you heard it and witnessed it being used was when Snape casted it and cut off George’s ear.

All you knew is that it did damage, harm, pain. That’s all you wanted to cause towards Rookwood.

You came to a stop once you were just a few steps away from where he was, grunting and squirming in agony on the ground. 

There were slash marks all over his body, blood soaking all throughout his clothing.

As you stood there in front of him, the only sounds were your sharp breaths, out of sync with Rookwoods pained ones.

Fred was gone. You saw him yourself. Limp and lifeless in the debris.

All morals were gone as you stared at him, your wand pointed and ready to cast.

It’s not fair he gets to live while Fred doesn’t. He doesn’t deserve to.

The call of your name and a hand on your shoulder was enough to make you spin around, pointing your wand threateningly at whoever was behind you.

“It’s me! It’s me!” Fred shouted, putting his hands up in innocence. 

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Fred’s shaky hands hovered over your shoulders, not sure if you were okay to be touched yet. You wanted to lock eyes with him, to comfort him with your gaze if he needed it, you knew he did. But a large part of you didn't want to see the state he was in.

You weren’t sure there was any comfort in your eyes either, only anger and fear. It was this strange  dissociated daze you were stuck in. Fred tried to shake you from it with his words.

“Look, it’s me. It’s only me.” He held your face with weak and bloodied hands, wiping the dirt and strands of hair that stuck to your sweaty face.

Your breaths were still sharp, body still tense, hand still tightly grasped around your wand, still looking around for any danger.

He kept repeating his words, saying your name, pleading for you to look at him until you finally did.

As your eyes locked with his, your sharp breaths turned into shaky sobs. 

“I thought you were…you looked…” Your hands roamed all over his upper half, “You’re here…oh God, you’re hurt.” you sobbed as you felt a warm soaked part on his torso. 

“I know, I know, let’s just…let’s just sit.” He limped and directed you to sit down with him on a knocked over pillar. You noticed more of his injuries through bleary eyes.

“Your leg, it’s all-“ You stared in horror at his damaged body, blood bleeding through his shirt and pants.

“I know. Let me just..” Your wand was now in his hand. He must’ve taken your wand from you while he was trying to bring your focus back to him. “Ferula.” He casted and bandages appeared, wrapping around his wounds. He closed his eyes and let out a relieved breath in response.

“I didn’t mean to scare you.” He breathed out, his voice soft yet out of breath. Your only response was to cry even more and wrap your arms around him.

Fred rubbed your back and shushed you. 

He held onto as if you were built out of ash, like you would crumble into his hands if he applied too much pressure. While you gripped onto him, his shirt balling up in your fists, refusing to let go. You practically were crumbling in his hold.

“It’s alright. It’s all over. It’s done. I’m here. I’m here.”

[wheretfismybrother]

Subspace | F.W.

summary: *requested* she spent the day purposefully teasing him and getting on his nerves with only one thing in mind. fred fucks her into subspace and takes care of her, she got a little more than she bargained for, not that she's complaining.

word count: 2075

warnings: straight smut, dom!fred, teasing, some fluff, okay honestly it's straight filth

notes: so excited to have a request after such a long time! may change the gif, can't find the right one... also may update this one again, it feels a little short

minors dni. 18+.

masterlist

She was driving him mad, absolutely mad. She waltzed into the shop around noon that day to bring him his lunch. The lunch he would have never forgotten if she hadn’t decided to tease him from the moment she woke up. She decided to join him in the shower this morning, wrapping her arms around him from behind. He thought it was cute at first, then she was gripping his cock in her hand. She waited until a groan fell from his lips before she released him and slid out of the shower. He had turned, reaching out to grab her and pull her into him, but she had managed to slip just out of his reach. He went through the morning frustrated, thinking about what he would’ve done if he wasn’t already running late that morning. And here she was now, a tiny little skirt on that was barely longer than his jumper that she wore. His eyes drug up her body, finding her smiling innocently at him when he met her eyes, batting her eyelashes at him. “I brought your lunch, seems you forgot it this morning, Freddie.” She handed him the small bag, a blush on her cheeks. He grabbed her arm as she turned to leave, pulling her against him. “And what are you up to now, love?” He whispered in her ear, nipping her earlobe. “N-nothing, just making sure you eat today.” She smiled, trying to hold her composure. She gave him a sweet smile, distracting him as her hands moved to his waist. Her fingers hooked under his belt, pulling him against her. She rested her chin on his chest, looking up at him. “You might want to eat that alone.” She bit her lip, a mischievous look twinkling in her eyes. His hand snaked around her waist, “and why is that, love?” The way he looked at her sent a shiver up her spine. She was sure he would take her right here and now if the shop wasn’t full. She let her fingers ghost over his growing bulge. “You’ll see.” She pressed a quick kiss to his lips, wiggling out of his grasp and leaving just as quickly as she came in. 

Fred had left a few minutes early, telling George he would close up tomorrow. He had stormed into her flat, finding her cooking dinner. “Oh, hi love.” She grinned, her smile slightly falling as he stalked over to her. “I see you’re still playing your little game.” He shook his head, looking her over. The skirt from earlier was gone, leaving her in just his jumper. He pulled something delicate and lacy out of his pocket, dangling it on his finger. “Did you misplace these? Hmm?” He raised a brow, watching her bite her lip. “I-” She started, only for him to cut her off. “You what, love? You just wanted to tease me all day, is that it?” His hands were on her hips, lifting her onto the counter. His hands slid over her thighs, pushing her legs apart. A whine left her lips as he drug a finger through her folds. “Have you been this wet all day? Just waiting for me to come home?” The only answer that came from her was a moan as he slid a finger into her. “I really shouldn’t be rewarding you.” His voice low as he thrusted his finger into her, slowly working in a second. She rocked her hips forward, trying to get him to go faster, to give her more. “Freddie, please.” She whined as he pulled his fingers out of her. “Not a chance, love.” He lifted her off the counter, gently pushing her down on her knees. She looked up at him as he removed his belt, unbuttoning his slacks. She slid her hands up the front of his thighs, her fingers grasping the waistband of his slacks and boxers, tugging them down. His hand wrapped around his dick, giving it a slow pump. His other hand ran through her hair, grasping a fistful of her hair at the back of her head. She wet her lips, looking up at him. Fred gave a quick tug on her hair as she slid her hands up his thighs. Her left hand gripped his thigh as she spread her fingers. Her other hand wrapped around his dick. She ran her hand up his length, brushing her thumb over the tip. Fred reached out, lifting her chin to pull her gaze back to his. He brushed his thumb over her bottom lip. “You look so good on your knees for me, baby.” He smirked, gently pushing her head forward. She parted her lips, taking his tip in her mouth. A small groan came from him when she swirled her tongue around him. Her hands came to rest on his thighs when she started to move. He let her go at her own pace, but soon realised she was still teasing him. The slow strokes of her tongue and shallow movements, and the look in her eyes when she looked up at him. He grasped her hair tighter, thrusting his hips forward. The moan that fell from her lips as he fucked her mouth made his head fall back. He pulled her off of him when he felt himself getting close. His fingers left her hair, grasping her chin gently as she stood. He leaned down, capturing her lips in a hungry kiss. She tangled a hand into his hair, the other grasping his shoulder. His hands slid down her body, grasping the back of her thighs as he lifted her. She wrapped her legs around his waist. He nipped her bottom lip before swiping his tongue along it. She parted her lips, her tongue brushing against his. 

She gasped when Fred dropped her onto the bed. She pushed herself up on her elbows, looking up at him. “Are you ready to behave?” He looked down at her, holding her gaze as she nodded. He shook his head as he began to unbutton his shirt. “Use your words, princess.” He slid his shirt off, watching her as she pulled his jumper over her head. “Yes.” She reached out for him as he moved over her. He used his knee to push her legs apart, his eyes dragging up her body. “Look at how wet you are for me.” He smirked as he got to his knees at the edge of the bed. He grabbed her ankles, yanking her down until her hips were at the edge. He pressed a kiss to the inside of her thigh, nipping the skin before he moved down her leg. She watched as his mouth moved closer to her pussy. Each nip seemed harder than the last. Her head fell back when he pressed his tongue to her clit. His name fell from her lips when he plunged two fingers into her. She felt herself getting closer, then he dragged his teeth over her clit. She yelped at the feeling, her eyes rolling back when he sucked her clit between his lips. He curled his fingers, her toes curled, a moan leaving her lips as she clenched around his fingers. He pulled his fingers from her, he looked up at her as he pushed his fingers into his mouth. Her cheeks heated at the sight, causing him to smirk. He climbed over her as she scooted up the bed. She leaned up, kissing him. She pulled him down as she laid back on the bed. “You’re in for it, love.” He pressed a kiss to her neck, sucking a mark into her skin. “You’ve had me thinking about being inside of this pretty little pussy all day.” He gave her no warning as he sank into her. He tangled his fingers into her hair at the back of her head, yanking down. Her fingers dug into his shoulders as he thrusted into her. She gasped when he nipped at her collarbone. He maintained a tight hold on her hair. The pleasure mixed with small kisses of pain was starting to overwhelm her. Her nails dug into his skin when she felt the warmth building in her stomach. She moved her hips to meet his, trying to reach her orgasm. Fred kissed her hard, biting her bottom lip. He pressed his forehead to hers as she came, lewd moans falling from her lips. 

He flipped her over, pulling her hips up so she was on her knees. His hand moved up her back, pushing her chest down to the bed. She turned her head, reaching to move her hair out of her face. Fred grabbed her hands, pinning them above her head as he leaned over her. “Let go, love.” He whispered in her ear, rubbing his tip through her folds. She whined, pushing her hips back when she felt his tip at her entrance. He let go of her hands, leaning back. She gasped when his hand collided with her ass. His palm smoothed over the red handprint. “What did I say, princess? Let go, let me take care of you.” She gasped as he slammed into her. “F-Fred.” She moaned, “I-i.” Her words lodged in her throat as her breath hitched. He slammed into her relentlessly. She knew what she was doing earlier, teasing him. She just wanted him to come home and fuck her over the counter. But this? This was even better than that. She yelped when his hand came into contact with her ass again. He smoothed his hand over her hips, digging his fingers as he pulled her back against him to meet his thrusts. Her legs were shaking, she wasn’t sure she could take anymore. He leaned down, wrapping his arm around her chest, pulling her up with him. His fingers wrapped lightly around her neck as her back arched. She whimpered with each thrust. He pressed his fingers into her pulse point, her head falling back onto his chest. He glanced down at her, noticing her mouth fall open. She reached up behind, tangling her fingers into his hair. He slid his other hand from her hip and between her thighs. He used his fingers to circle her clit. “Look at you, taking me so well.” Fred groaned, giving her a hard thrust. Incoherent babble fell from her lips as her free hand gripped his arm that was pressed across her chest. He could feel her clenching around him, he pressed his fingers harder into her clit. She whimpered when she finally came, the feeling almost too much. Her fingers tugged at Fred’s hair, her eyes fluttering shut. Her fingers slowly slid from his hair as she started coming down from her orgasm. His hips snapped against hers, a groan leaving his lips when he came. She moaned at the feeling of him spilling into her, clenching around him again. He kept thrusting until she was trembling as she came again. She mumbled something incoherent again as her body relaxed against him. She was putty in his hands, if he let go of her, she would fall to the bed. He gently laid her down on the bed as he pulled out of her. He laid down next to her, rolling her over and pulling her into his side. He smirked when he noticed the dazed look on her face. He smiled to himself as he realised what state she was in. She curled into him, laying her head on his chest. He pressed a kiss to her forehead, holding her 

“Hey, love.” Freddie whispered, dragging his fingers up her arm. “Mm?” She hummed, nuzzling her face into his chest. He chuckled, pressing a kiss to her head. They laid in silence for a while as he held her. Her fingers traced paths between the freckles on his chest and stomach. “What are you doing down there?” He asked quietly, being patient with her. “I’m naming the stars.” She mumbled, moving her head to look up at him. A lazy smile graced her lips as she looked up at Fred. He brought his hand up to her cheek, tracing a finger under her cheekbone. “You want to take a shower?” He asked, holding her soft gaze. She shook her head gently, pulling herself closer to him. She nudged his chin with her nose, pressing a soft kiss to his jaw. He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. A soft sigh escaped her lips as he brushed his nose against hers. She brushed her lips against his, biting her lip as a small smile formed on her lips. It didn’t take long for her to shift so she was laying on top of him. He lightly drug his fingertips up her spine. 

“Freddie.” She mumbled, lifting her head to look at him. “Yeah, love?” He asked, turning his head to look at her. “Can we take a shower now?” She asked, giving him a small pout. 

[wheretfismybrother]

Just Material

Pairing - Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader Summary - When Fred finds Y/n wearing a jumper which isn’t her own (and certainly isn’t his), he can’t help but question who it must belong to. Warnings - Bit of angst, mentions of stress Words - 1.5K

Masterlist

It was a jumper. It was just a jumper. A bit of material, sewed together by needle and thread with absolutely no deeper meaning than such. At least, that’s how Y/n saw it. Fred, however, saw the Hufflepuff title over the jumper, the smell that still lingered and the initials which were still printed into the label. Just two letters which taunted him: C.D

Fred had made it abundantly clear from the moment the two made their title of couple official, that Y/n was his. His hand seemed very so delicately glued to her, his eyes trained on her (even when she wasn’t looking) and constantly trying to be at her side. This was mostly because of the great feelings he felt for the girl; feelings of which, sometimes, he struggled to comprehend. But there was too a small part of him which did it to ensure no one else got any ideas.

The boy wanted to make it out to be as if there was no point in trying. If he was to ensure that their relationship was shown to be as concrete as it felt, then no one else would try to slip their way between them. And Fred’s plan had been working; it had been working bloody brilliantly. Well, that was before now. Because, as it turns out, the Weasley boy had walked into the library, set to meet Y/n, only to find her sat at a table with friends, dressed in a jumper which wasn’t her own - and certainly wasn’t his.

She was sat there, a book flicked to a page Fred knew she definitely wasn’t reading as she quietly giggled with her friends. Friends of which Fred knew weren’t Quidditch players who he also could assume wouldn’t thus own Quidditch jumpers. So, the question which came to Fred’s head, was simply: Who’s jumper was it?

He had been standing at a halt in the middle of the Libary, so deep in thought he didn’t have it in him to get Y/n’s attention. That was until she caught his sight, smiled, then lost her smile as she noted his discouraged expression.

Keep reading

[wheretfismybrother]

your highness

fred weasley x slytherin!reader

Summary: When Slytherin beats Gryffindor in the final quidditch match of the season, Fred Weasley decides to give the Slytherin princess a little reward

CW: NSFW, semi public sex(?), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praising.

Author's Note- As usual, I had a black reader in mind, so (Y/N) is described as having braids, but that's the only physical description. Anyone can imagine themselves in this fic. Also emmm I have never written smut in my life saurrr... I hope this makes you horny and I'm sorry if it doesn't!

To say that (Y/N) (L/N) hated Fred Weasley would be an understatement.

The Princess of Slytherin was in the prefect’s restroom, trying to wash the red and gold dye out of her hair. The last quidditch game of the autumn term was the next day, and Fred fucking Weasley thought it would be funny to make a mockery of the Slytherin team captain by having Peeves throw ink at her as she tried to run down the moving staircases. 

“That bloody…” she muttered as she roughly scrubbed her scalp. She’d been at it for what felt like hours when the dye finally washed away, and the raven-winged color of her long braids was finally visible again. 

Enraged, (Y/N) stomped out of the bathroom, envisioning ways to get her revenge. In her anger and fantasies of all the means of torture she could inflict upon the irritating prankster, she was barely aware of her feet carrying her down to the ever-calming bioluminescence of the  Slytherin common room. She waved her wand violently, blowing around a stack of papers and knocking over a desk, catching the attention of Blaise Zabini. 

The boy seemed slightly frightened as he said, “Hey (Y/N/N), you alright?”

(Y/N) huffed with irritation. “Oh, I’m more than alright. I’m ready to knock Weasley off his bloody broom.”

-

The Great Hall was alive with conversation. Some students excitedly cast charms, creating fireworks with their house colors and animals, while others feasted on fruits and vegetables in preparation for the big match. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor games were always the most anticipated. The extreme disdain between the two teams brought out the absolute best in them as players. Even if it was occasionally violent, it made for a great game. 

Fred and George Weasley sauntered into the hall with the typical swagger of Gryffindors, scanning the tables and admiring the displays from the students. As Fred eyed the Slytherin table, his gaze fell upon her. There in her quidditch sweater, brown knee-high boots, and a horribly tempting skirt, the Slytherin Princess, who’d earned her title by getting the best grades in her house, being captain of the quidditch team, and being so ridiculously beautiful that even the proudest Gryffindors tried their luck with her, was sitting on the table, locked in conversation with Blaise Zabini and Emma Vanity- the Slytherin chasers.

“Discussing a new and improved strategy for the pitch?” Fred asked, approaching her. “I might as well tell you now, you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) turned to him with an eye roll.  “Keep taunting me, Weasel. It’s the most satisfaction you’ll get today.”

“Keep dreaming. Tell me, how’d you like my little gift yesterday?” Fred asked, resting his hands on the table and leaning close to her face.

(Y/N) hummed. “To be honest I’d expected more from you, beater. You couldn’t even do the job yourself. That scared of little old me?” 

“You wish. You’ll see out there today. Tell you what. If you win, which you won’t, I’ll reward you,” Fred smirked.

“Please, what could you possibly have that I want?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad you’ll never find out.” Fred winked and walked over to the Gryffindor table, filling (Y/N) with so much irritation that it made her face hot.

-

Fred Weasley was eating his words.

The match was over before it began, the Slytherin players flying like bullets, (Y/N) ’s strategy working to absolute perfection, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to catch the snitch without hesitation, winning the last game of the season.

The after-party was a blur of green and silver, fireworks, and cheering. One second (Y/N) was being hoisted up in the air by her teammates while they chanted her name; the next, she was playing games with giggle juice and fire whisky with her classmates. The snake lair was on fire with passion and excitement. While (Y/N) was reveling in it all, she had another celebration in mind. While her friends chanted so loud that the paintings were all forced to cover their ears, (Y/N) quickly slipped out of the common room and skipped happily up the stairs with a clear destination in mind.

As the sleeping form of the fat lady came into view, (Y/N) suddenly realized she had no actual plan. She couldn’t get into the Gryffindor common room, and even if she could, what would she do? Find Weasley in his dorm room and slap him? Cast a spell turning all the furniture silver and green to boast Slytherin pride? Steal Fred’s clothes while he was in the shower and- oh. Somewhat embarrassed at how eager she’d been to go to the Gryffindor common room and at how her thoughts kept wandering back to Fred, (Y/N) quickly turned around and began to go back to her dorm but was quickly stopped in her tracks.

Standing before her was the very person who’d been nagging at her thoughts all night. There was Fred Weasley, with dripping wet red hair and no shirt, looking down on her with irritation and amusement.

“Well well,” he said tauntingly, stepping closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall. “Just what is the snake princess doing so close to the lion’s den? Came here to gloat?” Heat was radiating off of him. He was angry about the match.

(Y/N) swallowed, suddenly nervous, her usual Slytherin pride and confidence nowhere to be found. “As a matter of fact, Weaselbee, I’m here to see you. I told you I’d win, I’m here to claim my reward.”

Fred raised an eyebrow at this. He walked over to the fat lady, knocking on the portrait softly. The fat lady awoke with a jump, giving Fred a frustrated glare.  “Sorry about this,” said Fred. “Iced Mice.” The fat lady hesitated. “And just what are you doing bringing her in here?”

(Y/N)’ s bite finally returned as she spoke, “I can show you better than I can tell you. How about a charm for taking the tongues of bad singers?” Fred chuckled at that.

“Why, I never!” said the fat lady as she finally swung open the door.

Fred took hold of (Y/N) ’s hand as he walked in, dragging her behind him.

(Y/N)’ s words were full of venom as she whisper-shouted, “Just what do you think you’re doing, you slimy-”

“Just be quiet for once, princess.”

Indignation swelled in (Y/N) ’s chest, but she obeyed. Though she toothlessly fought back, attempting every now and then to snatch her arm away from him, deep down, she wanted to see where this would go.

Fred dragged her to a dark corner, taking her by her hips and lifting her onto a desk. 

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/N) asked with a furious look, but there was no bite behind the glare. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he’d hear it. 

“You came for your reward, didn’t you? You were so desperate for it that you were willing to cheat during the match,” he said, moving her hair and leaning into her ear.

(Y/N) shuddered at the closeness before pushing him away. “I didn’t cheat, Weasley, the hell are you talking about?”

Fred hummed, smoking at her and placing his arms on either side of her, caging her in.

(Y/N) scoffed. “This is ridiculous, I can’t believe I wasted my time coming here. Have a nice life carrot top.”

(Y/N) pushed him again, hopping off the desk and starting to walk away from him, but Fred quickly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into him and placing a wet, passionate kiss on her lips. (Y/N)’ s eyes widened in shock as Fred Weasley, the person she hated most since first year, slipped his tongue into her mouth and lifted her back onto the desk. Shocked and confused, she pushed him away a third time.

Fred looked deeply into her eyes, a tendril of red hair hanging over his eyes, making him impossibly more attractive. “Oh c’mon, love, don’t act like you don’t want it too. Like you haven’t wanted it since fourth year when you walked in on me showering after the quidditch cup.”

(Y/N)’s face got hot at the memory. “I hate you. You hate me. I’m the “princess of Slytherin,” remember?”

“Well then, your highness, allow me to serve you,” said Fred, dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaking as Fred ran his hands up and down her thighs, barely past her skirt. The tight little green dress and those white knee-high socks she was wearing had been driving him crazy since he first saw them, and he wanted nothing more than to see what was hidden underneath them.

“I’m rewarding you, even if you did cheat like a naughty little serpent, somehow I feel like this will be just as much as a reward for me.” He spread her legs wide, getting in between them and slowly peeling back her skirt.

(Y/N) breathed in sharply. “You have tormented me for six years, and now you expect me to let you use me to get off?’ 

“‘M sorry,” said Fred, kissing her thigh softly. (Y/N) shuddered. Fred kissed his way up to her sopping wet heat, muttering “I’m sorries” between every kiss. He finally made his way to her lacy undergarment, placing a soft kiss there. “You’re so wet, darling,” he said, popping his head out and looking at her, “It seems like you’ve already forgiven me.”

“In your bloody dreams, Weasley,” (Y/N) said with an unconvincing scoff. “I’ll hate you until the day I die.”

Fred hummed before quickly dipping his head back between her thighs, sliding her panties to the side, and licking a long stripe through her slick.

(Y/N) let out a throaty moan at the sensation, gripping the desk tightly. 

Fred chuckled against her, the vibrations making her breathe in deeply. “What was that about you hating me, love?” he asked.

“Shut up and get on with my reward, asshole.”

Fred smirked. “As you wish, your grace.”

Fred grabbed her thighs tightly and went to work, taking her clit into his mouth and sucking it like a starving man. (Y/N) moaned loudly before placing her hand over her mouth. Fred looked up at her, his sudden pause making her whimper. “No, no, no, darling. Don’t hide the noises.” He slowly pushed a single long finger inside her. “Let the whole school know.” Another finger. He looked into her eyes with a wicked smile. “Let them all hear how the snake princess let a lion make her scream.” He added two fingers that time and rapidly pumped in and out. And, just as he said she would, (Y/N) screamed. She went to cover her mouth again, but with his free hand, he took both of her wrists and held them in front of her. It burned, but it felt so good. (Y/N) began to move her hips slightly to increase the sensation, making Fred smile. “That’s it, beautiful, good girl. Good girl.” Fred spoke in a way that was almost patronizing. If she weren’t so close to the edge, she probably would have made some snarky remark, but (Y/N) couldn’t think straight as the pressure in her stomach was building up, and the Weasley boy was making her see stars. She let out another loud moan, throwing her head back as the pressure became unbearable. 

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” (Y/N) screamed as Fred’s fingers slammed into her g-spot, and she finally couldn’t take it anymore. (Y/N) let out a scream as she came, barely aware of anything around her. Her vision went blurry as the hot juices spilled out of her. Fred wasted no time re-attaching his mouth to her drenched cunt, licking up her juices until she was clean. “Mmm, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Surprising for such a nasty girl,” Fred said, slapping her thigh, sliding her panties back over, and standing up.

He placed his arms on either side of her, staring at her intensely, his hair disheveled and her cum around his mouth. (Y/N) matched his gaze with equal intensity, her heart pounding, a million questions running through her head. After a few beats of silence, she finally spoke. 

“I still hate you.”

Fred actually laughed at that, shaking his head before looking back at her. “Beat me again, princess, and I’ll give you a better reward then my fingers and my  mouth,” he rasped into her ear before walking off to his dorm room, leaving her with her legs spread on a table of the Gryffindor common room.

“We’ll see how much you hate me then!”

[wheretfismybrother]

First Time

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary : You've been trying to figure out how to bring up sex to your boyfriend..

CW : SMUT, 18+, virgin!reader, fem!reader, oral (f!receiving), fingering (f!receiving), multiple orgasms, nervous/awkward reader, praise, creampie

A/N : I am sorry I am a few days behind on kinktober! I am working on all the stories now and hopefully posting them soon! I've not been feeling amazing.

masterlist

Fred was an amazing boyfriend. He respected your boundaries and only wanted you to feel safe with him. The two of you hadn’t even brought up the topic of sex despite being together for a few months now. Lately however, you had been thinking of it quite a lot. It didn’t help that every time he got back from quidditch practice all sweaty it made you.. horny. 

You squirmed against Fred’s bed as you listened to him talk about some ‘wonderful plan’ Wood had come up with. Frankly you couldn’t pay attention as your eyes wandered his bare chest and your nervous thoughts arose again. Did you want to ask? Would he laugh at you for being so inexperienced? You didn’t know.

“Love, are you even listening?” Fred laughed as he turned to face you, throwing his dirty clothes in his hamper. You shook your head and smiled.

“Yeah Fred, sorry. Just got a bit distracted.” 

Fred’s eyebrow raised as he walked closer, his hand rubbing up and down your arm.

“Is something wrong? Do I need to prank someone?”

You couldn’t help but snort at the last part.

“No Fred. Nothing bad.” 

“Then what was it dear? Just admiring your handsome, amazing, gorgeous boyfriend?” Fred teased as he struck a pose. You rolled your eyes as you held back your true answer.

“Oh of course. Don’t forget humble too.” 

“Oh yes. I am quite humble aren’t I?” Fred grinned as he leaned in to steal a quick kiss. Your hands tangled against his locks and he groaned against your lips. The kiss became more heated, both of you laying against the bed as your tongues brushed past eachother. Fred, ever so respectful, kept his hands on your arms. As much as you felt honored by his movements you couldn’t help but get a little annoyed. Did he not want you? No.. you were just overthinking. 

Fred moved back, brushing his hand against your cheek.

“Darling, something is bothering you. You might as well tell me. Then neither of us have to worry.” 

You bit your lip as you thought about how to word it. Your stomach churned at the thought of embarrassment and how he would respond. You knew him better than to expect something bad but it still was.. nerve racking. 

“Well.. I just. Do you ever think about sex?” You blurted out and automatically wanted to smack yourself. Way to be subtle..

Fred’s smile turned into a smirk, his hands dusting your shoulders.

“Is someone horny? Is that what’s wrong?” 

You could feel your face burn as you looked anywhere but him. Fred’s hand rubbed at your cheek redirecting your eyes back to his.

“You don’t need to be nervous, love. It’s a normal thing. If I was wrong you can tell me. I don’t want to make you uncomfortable.” Fred’s voice was calm, his eyes softening with affection. You couldn’t help but feel the urge grow stronger at his care.

“I-I.. You’re right. I am just really nervous.” 

“About what?” Fred placed a few smooches against your jaw as he worked his hand down your arm.

“I’ve never done this before Fred..” 

Fred’s smile grew larger at your words as he pulled you closer.

“And you want it to be with me? I’m honoured. I’ll be gentle if this is what you want..” 

You could only nod and Fred took it as a sign to move. His lips pressed into yours again, starting the kiss out slow. Your need overpowered his soft urges and you deepened the kiss, your hands roaming down his chest. You pushed yourself against his form and let out a moan as his hands trailed across your ass. 

“Can I touch you?” Fred whispered as he stalled his hands around your waistband. Your breaths were harsh as you felt your core pulse.

“Yes Fred.. Please.” 

Fred’s hands were quick to action, helping you to shimmy your pants down. You could feel yourself growing nervous under his gaze. He rubbed your thighs, leaning down to kiss on the insides of them.

“You’re gorgeous. I love you.. All of you.” Fred licked at the skin and pulled, making you gasp in surprise. He chuckled against you as his fingers rubbed over the wet spot on your panties, making your legs wrap tightly around his shoulders.

“So responsive.. I bet you taste even better.” Fred continued his pats to your thigh as he pushed your underwear to the side. You shivered at the cold air against your moist core, turning your face away from the erotic sight. It was nerve racking and hot at the same time. 

“Darling have you fingered yourself before?” Fred questioned as his fingers ran up and down your folds. Your mind was so distracted you could barely take in his words.

“Y-Yes..” You stuttered out as his thumb circled your nub, already making you clench. 

“What a good girl. I’m going to use a finger to prep you.. Alright? You just relax and enjoy it.” Fred continued his ministrations to the outside of your pussy for a bit before he deemed it ‘good enough’. You felt his digit tease at your hole, your eyes tightening together as you desperately awaited. 

“Relax, it’s not going to hurt you.” Fred chuckled as his finger continued to circle and you groaned.

“I’m not scared.. I just want it.” Your words seemed to shock Fred as his eyes went wide before a wicked smirk appeared on his face.

“You want it, yeah? I’ll give you it, baby.” Fred’s fingers finally took the plunge, making you throw your head back in pleasure. He pumped them in slowly, letting you adjust before he picked up the pace. 

“Feel good? You look like you taste amazing..” Fred whispered out, his face getting closer and closer to your cunt. You felt your body jerk as the realization of what he was about to do dawned on you.

“Fred.. You don’t want to put your mouth there.” You felt yourself burn and tighten around his finger, your body wracked with apprehension. 

“Oh but doll.. I do.” Fred gave you another look to make sure you were fine with it before his mouth closed against you. Your hands grasped at his hair as your cunt spasmed at the new sensation. It was all so much, his finger, his tongue, his watchful eyes. 

“Fred I’m gonna..” You choked out, your body just a few seconds from flying over the edge. Fred just nodded as he continued his assault on your cunt.

“Cum for me.” 

You did as you were told, falling apart against his mouth. His tongue lapped at your juices making you jump at the sensitivity. Fred stood up as he stripped most of his clothes, leaving him in just boxers. He sat down next to you, rubbing at your torso with a wide smile.

“Are you still sure about everything? We can just leave it there if you feel nervous. I am so proud of you darling..” 

You shook your head. There was no going back now and you definitely didn’t want to. Even after already finishing you could feel the desperation in you beginning to ramp up again. Your eyes wandered along the tent in his underpants before looking back up to him.

“No.. I want you Fred.” You leaned in to kiss him, your hands mimicking what he did to you. He hummed at your actions and began to help with the fabric confinement in the way. You pulled back and watched as his cock sprung out, slapping against his stomach. The tip was an angry shade of red and dripped with precum. You could feel yourself gush at the sight, a sudden urge to lick at the slick filling your mind. 

“You like what you see?” Fred laughed as he pulled your legs apart, slipping between them. His cock nudged at your folds and you felt yourself shake with anticipation. This was it.

“Do it…” You choked out, tired of how slow he was going. You appreciated his care but now the need in you was growing far too strong. So strong that it outweighed any anxious thoughts you once had minutes ago. 

“As you wish.” Fred slowly began to enter you, your body tensing at the harsh feeling. Your eyes watered a bit as he continued, trying your best to adjust. Fred took notice of your discomfort, his thumb beginning to circle around your pulse point.

“There there darling. It’ll feel good soon I promise.” 

It took a while before your body got used to the intrusion and you nodded for him to move. He began to thrust shallowly in and out of you, watching to make sure you were alright. The more movement he made the more you got used to it, slowly feeling the sharp pains turn to ones of pleasure. 

“Oh..” You gasped as he bottomed out and Fred took notice of the change. He smirked and began to thrust harder, your mind going dumb with ecstasy. 

“That feel good? Your pretty pussy feels good around my cock. Squeezing me so damn hard.. I don’t think I’m gonna last too long.”

Your lips mumbled out incoherent yeses as he continued to gain speed, pushing you deeper against the mattress. You could feel the string in your stomach getting tighter and tighter, your eyes meeting his with a plea.

“F-fuck. Cum for me.. I love you.” Fred’s thrusts became sloppy as you peeked, your cunt spasming against him, your legs locking him in place.

“Fred-” You gasped as you felt his hot seed fill up inside of you, his head falling against your shoulder as he came. 

Slowly he pulled out and fell next to you in bed. You rubbed at his sweaty cheek, moving a bit of hair off his forehead as you both shared a sweet kiss.

“I love you Fred.” You whispered out.

“I love you too Y/N. I hope I made your first time special.” Fred pulled you against his chest and you listened to his heartbeat. You felt full and satisfied. Not only did you not have to overthink anymore but you would remember this moment forever.

“You did. Thank you.”

[wheretfismybrother]

If you take requests can you write a fic about draco wanting the reader's attention all day but someone or something something always getting in the way ? Bonus if he gets a lil moody about it too

(Feel free to ignore if a bother tho ♡) :)

bellyaching

A/N: you GUYS i cranked this out in an afternoon, do u understand im OBSESSED with moody draco

Pairings: Draco Malfoy x Fem!Reader

Summary: Draco is desperate for your attention, and desperate times call for desperate Slytherins. 1.1k words

Warnings: fluff, very very minor boy angst, slytherin behavior, moody/dramatic draco, established relationship

“Babe.”

It’s hushed, Draco doesn’t want to catch Flitwick’s attention while trying to grab yours. But it’s not easy when you’re seated in the row in front of him, and he’s desperately leaning over his workspace to reach you.

“Baby,” he mumbles, and you glance over your shoulder with a start. Then, smiling, you wave, and he’s soothed for just a moment. You turn back around and he’s practically pouting. He taps your shoulder with the paper rose he had so painstakingly folded for you. He’s got the paper cuts to prove it.

Draco taps your shoulder with the stem. You turn your head and hold one finger to your lips. You shushed him. You shushed him. He settles back in his seat, arms folded over his chest, wilted paper rose forgotten on his desk.

…

After class, you’re walking beside him, arm happily tucked within his as he escorts you to your Advanced Mythology lesson. Though he’s feeling a little deflated, having you near makes him feel better. And realizing that you’ve got a few minutes to spare before next class, he pulls you to the side of the hall, abandoning his friends to walk ahead.

Tucked beneath one of the awnings, he holds your books beneath his arm and pulls you closer.

“Draco!” you yelp, resisting his onslaught of hurried kisses, “We have class, remember? It’s that thing we are required to attend five days a week? We learn a lot of subjects? Sometimes they give us lunch hour—?”

“We’ll have plenty of time to get to class,” he huffs, pecking your bottom lip and the apple of your cheek.

“Draco, you’ve been late to nearly all of your classes because of—”

“Not because of you. I am solely responsible for my tardiness—ow!” You pinch his side and giggle when he slumps into your shoulder—“‘S not fair you’re so kissable.”

You roll your eyes and press your lips to the side of his sad face, “fine. You can have one kiss. Make it quick.”

At that, Draco perks up. You playfully pucker your lips, and as he leans in—You’ve got to be kidding.

“There you are! Come on, we’ve only got five minutes to get to class, and I’d rather not be forced to polish anymore silver!” Pansy grabs you by the crook of your elbow, dragging you out into hall. You wave at Draco and quickly catch up with Pansy.

For Merlin’s sake, is he not allowed one moment alone with his beloved.

…

The rest of the day goes just as smooth. As in not smooth at all. As in Draco’s day has been a complete shit show, and you’ve been otherwise occupied for just about every second of it.

First, he face plants during a scrimmage. Then, you tell him you’re using the afternoon to study with the girls in the library. You said he’s welcome to join but he knows that means he would be the only male attending and, therefore, it would be excruciatingly awkward.

Suffice to say, he’s spent the last few hours sulking and moaning to himself. Enzo thinks it’s hilarious.

When you finally sit next to him at dinner, he’s still stewing in his anger. Yes, it’s gotten to anger.

“Good evening, dear Draco!” you coo. And he’s clearly not having it, picking away at his food and only acknowledging you with a curt huff. You look to Theodore in shock, eyes wide when he shrugs.

“He’s been like this all day,” Mattheo says, “Think you could be a dear and fix him for us?”

You look over at Draco, who’s taken to scowling at the two boys. So you brush his hair out of his face and flatten his hood against his back.

“What’s wrong? I feel like I haven’t seen you all day?” you say, tilting your head. He huffs.

“I think you mean you’ve been ignoring me all day.”

“Draco!” you say, surprised by his sudden volume and honestly amused by his apparent lack of awareness. “What’s with the attitude?” He doesn’t respond, so you cross your arms over your chest. At this point, you’ve got the entire Great Hall’s attention. And winner for most dramatic couple goes to… “Come on, Draco, don’t just sit there and sulk, talk to me!”

“Oh, now you want to talk? Are you sure? Maybe you should go and study with your friends or read a book or do anything other than ask me how my day has been,” he whines. Enzo can’t help but snicker.

Your jaw drops, and you mumble, "Lower your voice, drama queen, I’m—"

“No, I’ve been trying to spend time with you all day, and you just shrug me off and find something better to do! What if I wanted to walk you to class and study with you?”

“We can still study together this week.”

“That’s not the point, babe. I wanted to spend time with you today,” he says, defeated and back to prodding at his meal tirelessly.

You sigh.

“I’m sorry, Draco. I had no idea”—you list his hand from the edge of the table and fit your fingers gently between his own—“I didn’t mean to starve you of attention. How careless of me.”

Draco presses his thumb against your hand, and he just barely turns his head to look at you.

“You’re teasing me,” he huffs. You look down at your hands and smile.

“A little,” you say, “But I am sorry. I should have listened to you. And asked you about your day. How was it by the way?”

“Ate complete shit out on the pitch. Found out I’m too needy for my girlfriend. Other than that, just peachy.”

“Draco,” you whine, pouting and cupping his face. “I’m sorry. And you’re not too needy for me, I’m just a bit daft.”

He shrugs, trying not to smile so wide and failing. Just happy to have you near him again.

“Oh, I have something for you”—he reaches into his pocket and pulls out the floppy rose—“Made it in charms.”

You hold its fragile, wrinkled frame in your cupped hands, frowning at it then at him.

“You made this for me?”

“Yeah. And it says ‘you look pretty’ on the inside, but I think if you try to unfold it, it’ll actually disintegrate,” he says.

You lean in swiftly for a kiss, but pause on the way.

“You two? Look away,” you grumble at Theo and Mattheo, snapping a spell against both of their cheeks. They wince and apologize, and Draco snickers.

He kisses you, tugging at your open robe and smiling against your lips when you reach for his other hand.

masterlist

[wheretfismybrother]

wish it on your worst enemy

A/N: if you see me butchering british slang 🤨 it never happened 🤫

Pairings: George Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Your worst nighmare takes a nasty spill during a scrimmage because he was distracted by you. It’s only right you go and check on him. 1.9k words

Warnings: violence by bludger, description of injury, cursing, lovesick losers, enemies to lovers???? ‘enemies’ to lovers but really idiots to lovers

George taking a bludger to the face was not the kind of news you would have liked to wake up to. Something had gone wrong during an emergency weekend scrimmage. He was laughing at something Fred said or shouting at Ron or maybe he was just distracted by his own thoughts and hadn't noticed the pesky bugger barreling towards him with every intent to bludgeon him unconscious. So he took a nasty spill from a considerable height and has been passed out in the hospital wing since six forty-five.

You rush down the hallway in your pajamas, cursing under your breath, face scrunched into a scowl, dead set on your target. Bloody quidditch. A few first years watched you nearly trample a group of girls in the hall. They were traumatized. It was bad.

"He's gone daft! This is absolutely mental—nothing is that distracting!" you shout at Ron who is actively trying to defend himself against you. He stopped you at the door because he heard you storming down the hall a full minute before you arrived.

"Calm down! He’s still alive isn't he?" he says.

"Not for long if I have anything to say about it—"

"Oi," Fred shouts, lounging in a rickety chair beside George's cot, "would you wait 'till he's at least cognizant to threaten him?"

"You!" you fume, "why didn't you warn him!" Ron has given up trying to stop you at this point. You push past him, headed straight for Fred.

"I did! I shouted for him three times. The git was proper distracted. Must've been dreaming of something really special." He winks at you, and you think you could ring his neck right about now.

"I think you mean someone," Ron teases.

Both of them. You'll ring both of their necks.

"What the hell are you two chittering about?" you hiss.

"Oh, nothing at all, your graciousness. We'll leave you two lovebirds"—Fred clears his throat, standing and nodding to his youngest brother—"I mean friends... to it."

You grumble and flip them both off as they leave. You plop down into the chair just in time for Madam Pomfrey to come fluff the pillow propped beneath his left leg. She catches your weary glance over his limp body.

"I wouldn't worry too much, dearie. Nasty spills are what young men are made for. He just needs a little rest. Time to recover," she coos, smiling up at you from the base of the cot. You briefly worry the back of your neck before managing a nod.

"Thank you, madam. I appreciate it."

She grabs a quilt from the stack she had brought to his bedside and flattens it across his torso. You tug the side to even it out, a hitch in your breath when your fingers brush his cold knuckles.

"You know, when I attended Hogwarts, the quidditch boys were all the rage. My boyfriend was a Beater as well—"

"Oh, George—! He's not my..."

"He was wonderful. But of course, he was always getting into spills. It drove me mad to see the boy I loved in so much pain. In the end, I told him he'd have to be more careful or I'd call it quits. He told me he had to focus on his career anyway." She stands silently for a moment. Solemnly.

"That's terrible. I'm so sorry."

"You live and you learn. Boys will be boys, I suppose." Out of her trance, she shrugs and gestures to the clipboard sat on the desk. You hand it to her.

"May I ask... what became of him?"

"He retired from Quidditch very young. Only a few years in and, bam: traumatic brain injury. Some people can't be helped!"

You can't help but snicker at her frankness. She smiles, pats your shoulder, and sighs.

"You just have to love ‘em while you can."

"Thank you, Madam Pomfrey."

"Of course, dear. You let me know when he wakes up." She scuttles away.

You take the silence of the moment to look at him. While you can. You prop your elbows on the edge of the cot and rest your head in your hands.

"Not sure how I feel about all of that information. Not sure how much I trust that advice." You tell him like it’s a secret, nose scrunched like there’s anyone else within earshot.

How fragile he seems laid flat atop this plastic wrapped bed. How rich the watercolor purples and yellows of his bruise. Down his neck, out across his jaw. The subtle swoop of his lashes, the rosy bridge of his nose. Then down to his bird bone fingers, your heart skips at the thought of tracing over the delicate skin.

He twitches, and you startle and sit pin straight. His muscles relax, though yours refuse to. You notice a rip at the hem of his folded quidditch robes and perk up.

Eight minutes later, you’re tugging just the edge of his robe into your lap while the rest is feathered out across the linoleum floor. Your emergency sewing kit is perched on your other thigh as you thread your needle and begin stitching.

George blinks the ache from his eyes, finally awake just to find you with a thin string caught between your teeth, your brow furrowed, and your fingers pinching fabric together. He reaches up and presses the heel of his palm to his forehead.

"Thank Merlin I wore something under my uniform today—"

"George!"

The sewing kit clatters to the floor along with the robe and thread. Hopefully that needle will be easy to find. But you smile for now, and it’s one of the sweetest things he’s ever seen. No wonder he took a bludger’s hit. You’re bloody distracting. Even when you’re not around.

“I’ll go get Madam Pomfrey, she said—"

"Were you... stitching up my quidditch robes?” he says, just a hint of teasing in his hoarse voice.

You look down and gape at the mess.

"There was a tear in—when you fell, the bottom—there was a rip! I had a sewing kit on me, I was just... helping a friend."

He blinks. If he wasn’t completely crushing on you before, it’s safe to say that was the nail in the coffin.

"That's adorable," he warbles.

You look cross and put your hands on your hips and scoff.

“Well, you can’t very well play with a rip in your uniform!"

"No. No, of course not,” he mumbles, “Silly me.”

Usually, you’d mock him. You’d call him names and tease him for getting knocked on his ass by and inanimate object. But that smirk has you incapacitated. He's making this very difficult for you.

"Well!” he chirps, “Don’t let me bother you, I’ll just be lying here."

"But Pomfrey—"

"I'll live. My mind is alive, the neurons are firing. All is well, it can wait,” he says, “Please.”

Goddamn you, George Weasley. You muster up a pathetic sigh and sit back on the stool, getting back to work on his robe.

But he’s back to grinning like a fool, admiring the way your tongue pokes the corner of your mouth when you focus. It’s incredibly endearing.

"You're very beautiful."

Daggers. “Shut up.”

He chuckles. "What? I find you to be very agreeable, poppet."

"Gee, thanks, Weasley,” you huff, “Do you want this stitch fixed or not—"

"Don’t get your dear panties in a twist, I’m only trying to compliment you. Would you just take it while I’m too ill to make fun of you properly?"

But he finds you very agreeable. And now you know that out loud. More than an inkling. More than friends. Oh, he’s awful.

"Quit staring."

"Sincerest apologies."

You roll your eyes and glare at him while the needle punctures the thick fabric.

"Why don’t I just tell Madam Pomfrey—"

"And ruin a moment? Come on, let me get a good look at you, you're the reason I’m in this mess,” George mumbles.

"Me?"

"Yes, you! Your stupid face won't get out of my head."

"Be serious, Weasley—"

"I am! You’ve cursed me, poppet, can't think straight unless I’m thinking of you."

"That's not fair!" you say.

"No, it’s not," he huffs, "I love you."

Shock. From both of you. More than friends, and more than a simple crush, now. But love. Love, for Merlin’s sake! Do you love him?

"You're being idiotic—”

"No. I'm not. I've thought long and hard about it, and I love you, and you can't change my mind—"

"George, quit it,” you say.

"Everyone knows it, poppet, I adore you, and—"

"I love you, too, George, now would you shut up!"

Well, then. Secrets out, no holds barred.

And he’s smiling all smug to himself, even though his left side is a bit swollen. And you’re back to fiddling with the stitched up tear in his robe. You’ve got crazy eyes. He thinks you might murder the stitched up tear in his robe. Or confess your love to it.

You groan.

"Stop smiling like that. You look crazy."

He shrugs. "I am crazy…"

"Do not—"

"… Crazy in love."

"I hate you"

"I know."

You look at him. And he’s looking back at you terribly fondly. As fragile as he seems now, he feels invincible. You fold up his fixed uniform and set it on the desk.

"George,” you sigh, “you have to stop getting hurt."

He nods curtly. "Okay. I’m sorry."

You squint at him, suspicious and expecting just a little pushback.

"... It's... okay, I just worry about you. I don't like seeing you like this." The stool scrapes against the floor, and George reaches for your hand.

"I know you don't, poppet. It won't happen again,” he says.

"Good. And if it does, then—"

"Then I’ll quit the team.”

"What!"

"I’ll do it. I’ll quit for you. I’ve got other things to worry about anyway. More important things than some silly sport where balls fly at your face."

Your eyes sparkle. For him, and it makes him absolutely giddy. He presses his thumb to the back of your hand and cocks a brow.

"Now,” he sighs, “would you come here and give me my hard won kiss?"

"Oh, so you won a kiss.”

"Nobly so. Dutifully and honorably. Nothing less than the best for your highness."

"Fine, whatever, only because you think I’m beautiful.”

You lean over his arm, trying not to nudge any of his tender injuries. While you’re being so careful, he’s straining for your kiss, jutting his neck out and shuffling under the quilt. He grunts at the overexertion, and you sit back before he gets his kiss.

"Nope! I’m getting Pomfrey!"

"One peck! Swear, I won’t move an inch!"

"Madam, he's awake!”

"Wonderful news, darling!" she calls from the other side of the wing, preparing a jug of water and a two glasses.

"You're horrible, and you torture me. You don’t love me at all, witch!" he whines, voice low

"On the contrary, I love you a good deal too much, which is why I’m so horrible."

He grumbles something under his breath.

Then chirps: "Be my girlfriend.”

You fold your hands in your lap. "If I must"

"And let me be your boyfriend,” he pleads.

"Well, what else would you be?"

"Your servant, your house pet. A footstool if you needed it.”

“George Weasley, you’re a fool,” you tease, reaching over to fix a strand of hair behind his ear.

"Yes, I am. A fool who loves you very much.”

“Sap.”

masterlist

[wheretfismybrother]

summertime at the burrow

A/N: i want to be an honorary weasley please im literally begging. notice me molly weasley

Pairings: Best Friend!Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finally invites his best friend home over summer holiday. Neither of you expected it to go so well. 3.7k words.

Warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, ungodly amount of shenanigans, friendly bullying/teasing, mud wrestling, kissing, (friendly) violence, pet names (trouble, snookums, sugarplum, sweetheart), cursing, borderline frog abuse

"Good morning, trouble."

You hop into the seat next to him that he’d been saving for you. In fact, he’d been saving it for you since the first time you plopped down beside him after the sorting hat declared your house first year. You laughed when he shook your hand. He thought you had the cutest smile. Then you teased him for his devilish charm and he called you catty, and you’ve been teasing each other ever since.

"Are you packed and ready?” He sounds more worried than that time he nearly shattered his collar bone during a vicious Quidditch scrimmage. “We're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Mum says she's preparing a hearty lunch for our guests." Fred scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and turns to look at you to find you're looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Somebody's excited," you tease, ruffling his fiery locks and glancing over at George with a grin.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him before winter holidays," George huffs.

“I have.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you and you jab him in the side.

"Where are the lot of you off to?" Lee perks up from across the table, setting his plate down and wiggling his way between Alicia and Angelina.

"I finally got my honorary invite to the Weasley burrow this summer," you chirp, wrapping your arm over Fred's shoulders and leaning him into your side.

Lee cocks a brow and smirks at a suddenly and uncharacteristically shy Fred. "Well, it's about time! You've only been dating for—"

You shake your head. "No, not dating, Lee. I swear we've been over this—"

"Oh, we've been over it plenty. I just choose to ignore wicked witches when they lie—!"

You practically leap across the table with your teeth gritted to grab for his robes when you're stopped by the laughing twins holding you back from tearing into him. "Lee Jordan, you take that back right now, or so help me your mother will wonder why your hair's gone purple!"

"I'm not going to apologize for being lied to!"

"Let me at him! I'm trying to defend my honor here!"

"Miss—young lady!”—McGonagall appears behind you, sending you into shock and barreling back onto the bench—“Settle down! You're frightening the first years, and we typically prefer they come back in the fall."

"Apologies, professor, I was simply trying to have a friendly discussion with my classmate," you say, gesturing to Lee who smiles begrudgingly.

"Right, well, from now on, let's have our discussions from across the furniture, not on top of it." She wanders away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Lee who is doubled-over and cackling at your being caught.

“I hope you know, we’re going to receive the same third-degree from my dear mother,” Fred mumbles in your ear. His heart races when you turn to him, a playful glint in your eye. You blink sweetly and rest your hand on his knee when he tucks his arm around your lower back. “But don’t worry, sugarplum, it’s never too late to try.”

He winks. Your eyes go wide, and you shove at his shoulder with a chuckle disguised by a scoff.

“Scabbers not the only rat in the Weasley family, I see.”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about, there’s no way you two are just friends—”

A slice of ham sticks to Lee’s cheek with a cold, wet slap as you eye him from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, snookums, he just doesn’t understand our complicated arrangement,” Fred says, nudging your cheek with his nose and holding back laughter.

“Gross,” George mutters, grinning before he’s met with the same lunchmeat backhand his friend so rudely received. “Suppose I could’ve predicted that one.”

…

You wipe the sweat from your brow, slinging your carry-on over your shoulder before bending down to pick up your trunk. You’re trailing behind most of the rest of the group, just a few steps behind the twins while their younger siblings charge ahead through the field with Harry and Hermione. Fred checks in with you every couple of meters, making sure you don’t need any serious medical attention.

Once the twins breach the front door, you take a seat outside on your trunk, fanning yourself with your hand and throwing your head back. Then you hear:

“Fred, you better get out there and help that poor girl with her things!”

“Sorry, mum!”

You chuckle when he appears in the doorway moments later, winded as ever, hair plastered to his forehead, and still grinning wildly as he jogs over.

“What’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing outside all alone on such an unbearably hot afternoon?”

“Sweating like swine.”

“Ravishing,” he teases, shooing you off the suitcase, “head inside, mum’s absolutely itching to meet you.”

So you do. You can see her welcoming her children and their friends alike, and it fills you with the warmth of fresh gingerbread and the nerves of a teenage boy during school dance season.

“My dear!” she coos, arms outstretched even though a thin year of sweat coats every inch of your body, even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for a day, and even though you’re breathing heavy like a dog. She’s got her arms outstretched like you’re family.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, and, goodness, you’re even prettier than he said you’d be!” —She gasps when he walks through the door, hauling your trunk in tow—“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s been five minutes and you two are already sharing secrets about me. Only seven more days, Freddie,” he mumbles, setting the trunk down with a thud.

“Oh, well! It’s wonderful to finally meet you, dear, Ginny will show you to your room and lunch will be ready once you’re all settled!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley—”

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly.”

Your brows knit when she smiles at you so gently before making her way back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Molly!”

Fred hops up from where he’d been relaxing on an armchair, clapping you on the arm with a reassuring smile.

“Everything processing alright up there?”

You nod.

“Peachy. Now give me a smile, you’re scaring me.”

You squint at him and pinch his arm, simpering when he hisses and swats your dry-gulching fingers away.

“That’ll do!”

“We’re up this way,” Ginny chirps as she rushes by and tugs you by the hand up the stairs.

Fred watches after you, rubbing his arm with a mean look on his face just before his playful resentment fades and his affections settle into the apples of his cheeks. This is going to be a long seven days.

…

Fred had never invited anyone to stay at the burrow. He preferred the company of his close family and whoever his mother deemed Weasley-enough herself. But he’d been saving this invitation. It stewed in the back of his mind for years before he mustered up the courage to offer it to you.

Ridiculous. That’s how it sounded in his head: ridiculous. If he wanted to ask you, he should have done it at the first chance. That’s what Fred would do. But he could never bring himself to get the words out whenever he swore to himself today would be the day. Because you’d just look at him with those damned doe eyes—you’d test his boundaries and make him all gushy inside—and it was like he was suddenly turned to a tongue-tied and pathetic halfwit.

And now here you are. An unofficial part of his family. But nevertheless a part of it. You’d found the annual Weasley strawberry-picking trip to be wonderful despite Fred pulling cheap pranks on you and the fact that it was basically sweltering outside. When you returned, you all spread out in the family room with bowls of the dewy berries in each of your laps. Everyone claimed a seat while you and Fred were forced to share the hardwood floor. You ended up tossing the small fruits into each other’s mouths with your legs laid across his thighs.

At one point, he lands one of the berries down your blouse. Almost immediately, he starts to laugh, clutching his chest while you gawk at him.

“You better start running, trouble.”

He gulps and scampers to his feet before scurrying out the front door. You take off after him, shouting curses into the wind when he rounds a corner.

You follow his footsteps but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on you—”

He grabs your waist from behind you, dipping down to whisper in your ear. “You can put your hands on me whenever you’d like, sugarplum—”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fred! You scared the shit out of me!”

You jolt away, and he thinks you look genuinely angry this time. But he smiles and your features soften. Then you’re after him again, bounding into the tall grass with an uproar of laughter.

…

You spend the next few days of your vacation trying to beat Ron at chess then deciding it may be better if you and Harry team up to try and beat Ron at chess. You also take Ginny and Hermione shopping while the gaggle of boys trail behind the three of you grumbling and whining about missing their beloved Quidditch game.

You offer to help Molly with every meal, and she only accepts once you convince her your desserts are a crowd favorite back home. She’s proud to say she’s impressed, and she grows even prouder when you admit you adore big families like hers and see at least two kids of your own in your future.

Arthur takes a liking to you after you listen to him rave about the kind of items muggles use day-to-day and how fascinating their modern technology has become in recent years. He’s thrilled to find you actually take interest in his tinkering and collections and whatnot.

But most of all, you spend your time at the burrow with Fred. He steals you away after meals and keeps you up late to teach you his favorite charms. One overcurious evening finds you two perched together on the bathroom floor whispering and giggling while you brush a bold smokey-eye onto his eyelids. Let’s just say dinner that night was nothing short of hilarious: a look that Fred will never live down.

On the fifth morning, you jostle him awake. He whines about the sun not even being up yet while you drag him down the steps and shove your socked feet into an extra pair of rubber boots.

“What’s the bucket for?” he whispers, traipsing down the path along the side of the house when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Shh!” You press your gloved finger to his lips. A chorus of croaks erupts from the marsh beside the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for Fred, in fact that sound had often soothed him to sleep. But there’s a dangerous glint in your eye that tells him you’re on a mission.

“Can’t we do this when the sun is up? It’s cold and I’m tired—”

“The faster we catch ‘em, the faster we can go back to bed,” you whisper as your boot sinks into the edge of the muddy body of water. He sighs and sinks in next to you with his hands on his hips.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or you’d never get away with anything.”

You purse your lips and wade a little further out, looking out at the cooly rippling water beneath the sliver of sunrise.

“Yes, I would,” you say, quietly but so matter-of-fact he’s inclined to believe you.

Just then you spring into action, shoveling a small frog into your bucket with a victorious grunt. A few minutes later, he shuffled over to you and lowers his cupped palms into your bucket: three more frogs settle down into the center with a wet plop. You beam up at him, and it’s worth the early morning trouble to see you so happy and have you so close.

“So what do you plan on doing with these poor creatures once we’re done?”

You sit on the bank of the waterbed, sighing and setting the bucket beside you. He watches you from the water while you examine the small blob of darkness in the center of your palm. The bottom of the bucket is lined with croaking frogs, and the sun is well above the horizon, dousing the sky in soft pink and warm rose.

“I’m going to let them go.”

He lets out a sharp breath, hands falling to his sides, leaving streaks of mud down his tee shirt.

“You’re joking.”

You look up at him. You’re not joking.

“No,” he huffs. “You did not drag me out of my nice, warm bed to catch a million slimy frogs in the freezing cold dark just to let them go again.”

“Oh, but I did.” You’re crazy, he thinks. You’re crazy and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Doesn’t make you any less crazy, though it might make him much less sane.

You set the frog down in the grass and leave the bucket tipped over. The small creatures immediately flood out from the splotchy tin opening into the newborn daylight and the crisp morning air. You stand and wipe your hands against each other a few times, scrunching your nose and finally meeting his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, trouble? Cat got your tongue?”

You grin.

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, and it’ll be a rude awakening.”

Fred walks past you like he’s really mad. Like it was an uncrossable line and you treated it like the tape at the end of a marathon. He’s hulking back towards the house when you grab his wrist to get his attention.

“What?”

But you don’t look sad. You don’t look pitiful or hurt. You look like you’re scheming, and it drives him crazy. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to you.

“You think I’m pretty,” you coo, batting your lashes just to get on his nerves. His breath hitches, and he feels warm despite the nipping cold of the morning.

“Unrelated.”

You drop his hand and cross your arms over your chest with a pout. He continues leisurely toward the burrow, tossing his gloves to the ground with a huff of hot air.

“Fred?” you call. And you sound worried, so he’s compelled to whip around. But when he does, he’s met with a rude awakening.

It was a misstep. A silly mistake, the wrong footing. Easily avoidable, and yet he didn’t avoid it. So he’s ass-first into a mud puddle with you shrieking in laughter about a meter away.

“You’re awful,” he grumbles, both hands propping him up and seeping into the thick mud as seconds tick by.

“I’m sorry! Freddie, I’m so sorry,” you cackle, taking a few steps toward him with tears of joy in your eyes. “But you should have seen your face!”

“Help me up,” he says, shaking his head and wiping his hand down his pajama pants before holding it outstretched to you. You grab it and tug enough to leverage him out of the muck. But he doesn’t budge. And in that moment, your eyes are filled with fear. Then, with one jolt, you topple down into the mud right beside him.

“Fred!”

“An eye for an eye, sugarplum.”

You push yourself up onto your hands to find your entire front is caked in mud, the mess narrowly avoiding your chin and above.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, bring it on,” Fred teases.

You smirk just before a handful of mud is smeared across his chest by your slippery glove.

“Your move, trouble.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, looking down at the abstract art work fondly. But not quite fondly enough to hold himself back. His fingers dig into the puddle determinedly just before patting the top of your head with it like a stray dog. You squint your eyes closed and groan before peeking one eye open and coating his cheek in mud.

You make it to your feet and Fred hurls a ball of mud at your ass but he misses and it lands in the grass in front of you. You bolt around the back of the house, but he hurls a hunk towards your shoulder blade. You yelp and shout at him:

“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

“I’ll show you a gentleman, sweetheart,” he hollers it just before he catches up to you. You squeal and nearly slip on a slick patch of grass, but before you can leap out of his reach, he grabs your upper arm and presses you against the tree just behind your back.

“That’s not playing fair, Freddie, I’ve got nowhere to run,” you say, breathlessly grasping at the edge of his shirt with a tired smile. He chuckles and plants one palm against the bark beside your head, bringing the other hand to cup the side of your neck.

“You don’t need to run anywhere,” he mumbles, “just stay here.” The dried mud on the pad of his thumb draws a swipe of dirt down your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrist and your lips part sweetly when he leans in.

“Time to come inside, you two! Breakfast is ready!”

Your eyes go wide when he leans his forehead against the tree with a grumbled curse.

“I suppose I am quite peckish!” you chirp, dragging him along behind you all the way to the front door. You leave your boots and gloves outside and brush some of the dried dirt from your pajamas.

You sit across from him at breakfast and catch him stealing glances at you every so often. With a mouth full of food, you wink at him with a dirt-smeared face and almost make him spit out his juice when you kick him under the table. George teases the two of you about wrestling in the mud while Molly scolds Fred about tracking it into the house.

…

Before long, you’re facing the final night of your stay. You’d been dreading the end since the beginning, and now that it’s here, you’re heartbroken. It’s been nothing but fun and you’ve never felt so wonderfully vulnerable with so many people around.

But the thing you’ll miss most is Fred. He could sense you pulling away the last couple of days. Trying to shield yourself from the impact of reality. No matter how hard he tried to cheer you up, he knew nothing could stop you thinking about how much packing up and leaving would hurt.

With your things splayed out across the floor of your temporary room, you had started packing hours ago but kept finding ways to distract yourself and avoid the idea of leaving altogether.

“Need any help?” Fred knocks on the doorframe, leaned against it and wearing the blue jumper you once told him he looked best in. You smile up at him from the floor.

“No,” you huff, “but some company would be nice.”

He perks up and shuffles around your belongings to plant himself on the edge of the bed. You had made the bed up nicely, tucked the duvet and set the pillows out nicely. He told you you didn’t have to, but you did it anyways.

After a few minutes of folding and refolding the same shirt, you stand from the floor and join him on the bed. He’s leaned back onto his elbows when he nudges your foot with his. You nudge him back but don’t turn to look at him. So he sits up and bumps you with his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, fussing with the edge of your shorts to distract himself, “Being here, I mean. As a part of our family.”

You smile down at his fiddling fingertips and inch closer, looking at him with this half-sad, half-happy look that has him confused and hopeless and head over heels and confused.

“I had a really, really nice time,” you whisper, leaning your head onto his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed.

“So…”

You chuckle and smile to yourself, “So…?”

You sit up when the floor rattles a little, a thudding coming from the room below you. Then George shouts.

“Get it over with already!”

You both look at each other and giggle. Fred leans back again and you watch him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His chest rises and falls beneath that damned blue sweater, and you trace your fingertips over his knuckles. He lifts his head and smiles cheekily at you, like he knows what’s going on inside your head. Like he has any idea. And for once, you think he might be pretty close.

You practically tackle him to the bed, smiling against his mouth when he cradles your face in one hand and rests the other on your waist where your shirt had ridden up from the ruckus.

You pepper soft kisses over his blushing face, leaving faintly glossy lip prints on his cheeks and nose and forehead and a stray one on the column of his neck. He goes slack against the bed, satisfied and content and happy all because of you. But still, he lazily opens his eyes and grins mischievously and says:

“Took you long enough.”

You smack your hand against his chest just hard enough to warn him.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Weasley.”

He cups your hand against his warm chest and his smile ebbs from mischief to something not as easily recognized. Something that makes him shy and pink thanks to the girl who likes the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the summer and his hands even when they’re covered in mud. Love that makes him much less sane for the girl who might just be crazy for loving him back.

And all of it makes him hold your hand and lean up to kiss you one more time.

masterlist

[wheretfismybrother]

*:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ  nincompoopydoo // WIZARDING WORLD MASTERLIST

theseus scamander

⋆ caught in a crossfire [series]: Theseus and his team of Aurors are tasked with a mission to take down a recent movement formed by dark wizards and witches with the intention to erase all muggles. The night takes a turn when you arrive at the scene unknowingly and it seems you’re the next target. ⋆ in search of a grecian beast: As you, Theseus, and Newt find yourselves on a secluded Grecian beach along the Aegean Sea, an endeavor unfolds to seek out a Hippocampus. However, plans don’t turn out as expected. ⋆ for old times' sake: Theseus attempts to convince you to leave your desk. ⋆ happy christmas, dung brain: you visit the Scamander household on Christmas, seeing Theseus after a long time and the two of you’re not sure what to do with all these feelings. ⋆ bertie botts: Theseus gets injured during a fight and you’re mad. ⋆ overnight shift [series]: you and Theseus were known rivals among the Aurors at the British Ministry of Magic. ⋆ false signs: unsaid feelings turn into what seemed as unrequited love to Theseus but it turns out you’re in love with him as much as he is in love with you. ⋆ tea at newt's: newt plays accidental matchmaker. ⋆ envy: you’re jealous, although you hate to admit it, of Theseus’ rather flirtatious assistant. ⋆ trespassing: trespassing during a mission leads to a life or death situation when you and Theseus find yourselves entangled with a dangerous dark wizard. ⋆ war and anguish: theseus returns home as a war hero but you’re engaged and he doesn’t know what to do with himself and his feelings for you. ⋆ crimson cheeks and ivory snow: you spend a snowy day learning to ice-skate with the help of your crush, Theseus. ⋆ behind the sofa: you rant to Newt about his brother’s constant teasing at the workplace which led you to seek a hiding spot behind the sofa when Theseus unexpectedly shows up at his brother’s place. ⋆ shadows on ancient stone walls: soulmate AU: Where the outline of your shadow is your soulmate.

newt scamander

⋆ scamander: you are constantly being used by a ‘friend’ of yours but when you reached your limits, Newt is there to comfort you.

james potter

⋆ healed [series]: you and James had been the best of friends since your Hogwarts days. Thus, you grew strong feelings for the boy, feelings stronger than just plain platonic although you knew about James’ extreme infatuation for the beautiful and intelligent ginger, Lily James. ⋆ you owe me butterbeer: you and James are best friends and you are constantly helping him get Lily’s attention, even if you didn’t like doing so, simply because of your crush on James himself. However, things take a turn and James catches on a little later that he may not truly have feelings for the redhead but instead for someone who has been there with him all along. ⋆ mistletoe and holy moly, are you trying to kiss me?: James is trying to get you to kiss him under the mistletoe.

sirius black

⋆ flowers: you’re the quirky and socially awkward girl that Sirius has a crush on but his flirting ways seem to not work on you. ⋆ prejudice: you’re a Slytherin who stood up for a Ravenclaw against your own housemates which caused you to be attacked. Having been sent to the infirmary, you’re met with the charming Sirius Black.

remus lupin

⋆ alive and true: having found a lost friend, living in the countryside of Yorkshire, feelings of once hidden affection start to bloom in the need to be alive and good things to be real. ⋆ war changes you: Remus comes to visit you at the Hogwarts infirmary involuntarily sparking some old feelings you might have had for each other after not seeing each other for so long.

fred weasley

⋆ good, pure, and beautiful: the Leaky Cauldron serves as a sanctuary to drink your problems away for the night but a certain ginger always seems to find his way to you. ⋆ sheperd's pie: you desperately need a break from studying for your upcoming OWLs which left Fred Weasley, your best friend, the responsibility of coaxing you to do just that despite you being quite headstrong. ⋆ near death: Fred Weasley dies. Nearly.

george weasley

⋆ where two lonesomes meet: in the midst of a Christmas market sits a bench where two walls meet. Here is where two lonesomes meet. ⋆ nature mourns with the mourning: you and George finally find solace after the Battle of Hogwarts. ⋆ five to four: you comfort George after the Battle of Hogwarts. ⋆ snowball fight at midnight, that's christmas to me: where George simply had the audacity to force you to a battle of snowball in the middle of the night, out in the cold.

[wheretfismybrother]

Anything

pairing: Fred Weasley x Prefect!Reader

summary: Fred would do anything to see you, 'Hogwart's strictest Prefect', loosen up.

genre: fluff 'n stuff, and only slight angst, also borderline slowburn

warnings: swearing, bullying moments, implied that reader is in Slytherin, lots of teasing, flirting, kissing, Fred is completely and utterly whipped for reader, "your highness" nickname

a/n: not me in the middle of writing a neville fic and then having a shower thought of a fred x reader and writing this instead.

words: 6.9k

masterlist

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You can hear them. And you know it's them, because of the sniggering and that laugh.

By now, when you patrolled outside of class hours you'd find yourself actively seeking out these boys. Today happens to be good day to continue your spotless Prefect record.

With a hand sliding to your hip, you smoothly round the corner of the door to your Potions classroom and as you suspected, Fred and George Weasley are there, huddled over a particular cauldron. Something's clearly already been brewed and Fred is holding a cork screwed flask with the mysterious liquid.

It takes a minute until Fred happens to glance toward the door and sees you there, nose in the air and hands now clasped in front of you. He's trying not to laugh when he sees you, and elbows his brother.

The said Weasley is about to say something, but as he meets your gaze his lips press together in a slightly curved line.

Successful in catching their attention, one eyebrow and then one corner of your lips gently raise. "We've really got to stop bumping into each other like this."

"I think you wanted to bump into us," Fred says with a prominent smile. He looks innocent, just like always.

You neither confirm nor deny his remark and instead stride closer to them. You take your time, head turning in each direction, eyes scanning for any other suspicious looking activity. It feels good, because you can feel their stares and how they wait with bated breaths for your next move.

With a last step you settle on the opposite side of their table. You look at Fred, head tilted softly, studying his expression.

His smile only grows when you reach his eyes and it's finally time to address the elephant in the room.

In a newly straightened posture you say in a slow and sarcastic tone, "did you know... that I can take away points from your House? From each of you, in fact?"

"Oh, come on. Our favourite Prefect. Can't you pretend you never saw us, like last time?" George answers.

"Sorry what was that? You'd like 30 points taken away?"

"Hey, hey, hey!" Fred waves with a chuckle, "let's not get hasty. What about... a-a compromise?"

George nods desperately.

Your eyebrow raises again, and you lean back, crossing your arms. "A compromise, instead of taking away your precious points?"

"Yes, we'll do anything."

"Anything?"

"Anything." Fred glides a tongue over his bottom lip, speaking to you through his eyes.

For once he looks completely serious and it makes you smile in delight. An expression seldom found in your features. It's completely magical and Fred finds no regret to bargaining with you.

"There is something you can do for me," your eyes glaze over Fred's face and then you turn to George, leaning forward over the table on your elbows. "The next Quidditch Game."

"Yeah? Slytherin v Gryffindor. Need us to bug someone?" George grins.

You shake your head and smile again. You're frighteningly beautiful with that curve on your face as you continue. "I need you to make sure that Slytherin wins."

"What?"

Fred captures your attention, so you lean in closer to his side of the desk. "It shouldn't be too hard for you both, right?"

He squints, unable to hold back a smile of his own. In the previous times when you had caught the twins in the middle of scheming, you'd never been so coy with them. Ruffling your feathers a bit was always the boys' goal when getting caught by you, however now that you seem to be playing along, Fred can't get enough. "That's hardly something to wish for, your highness. You can have anything from us, really anything. Don't hold back."

You shrug, "well, that's what I choose."

"But if you think about it you cou—"

"I can take the points off now, if you like? It's really no problem."

"Fine. W-We'll do it." George huffs, and his brother follows with a playful bow.

"Your wish is our command."

"Please just don't take the points off. We'll be kicked out of Gryffindor if you snitch again."

"Me? Snitch?" Your voice drips in sarcastic innocence, and you push yourself off of the desk. Your feet turn to walk back outside first, but your eyes remain on Fred until it's physically impossible to stay focused on him. As you saunter to the door, you feel their gazes on you again and it's oh so satisfying to know that you get the last say. "You need to get better at not getting caught. Because, if I didn't know any better, it looks more like you want me to bump into you."

You turn around to face them again, and stare at the flask in between Fred's long fingers. By some miracle you'd never found yourself to be the butt of their schemes, unlike the other prefects. Even as a chaser of the twins' opposition in Quidditch, you've been the only lucky soul on your team to come out the other end. The question was why? Why spare you?

"Who in Salazar's name threw that?" Your captain shrieks, massaging the back of his head, small flakes of snow dropping to the skin of his neck.

How bothersome, you think, looking around at the rest of your teammates who're busy cooling down after Quidditch training.

"What?! A snowball just happens to gain sentience and hit me, huh? An owl maybe? Just come forward, admit you did it and I'll go easy on you—"

The spray of snow flies off of the captain's head again and you dodge the icy substance in time, some of it landing on your beater and chaser teammate. Everyone exclaims except you, you're too busy scanning over the field.

Suddenly, the burly boy of a captain huffs toward you, and you take a shove to the shoulder.

Stumbling back by a metre, you frown. Increasingly annoyed by your captain's baseless judgements. "What the hell is wrong with you? How many times do I have to tell you I'm a prefect?"

"I know a guilty person when I see one."

You're about to give him a piece of your mind until the idiot is hit again and you stifle a laugh at the noise he makes.

"Clever," he says through gritted teeth. Despite clearly looking at you just seconds before the snowball made contact with his thick skull, his pride is still hell-bent on accusing you. "I knew you were good at school, but I didn't think you'd stoop so low to use non-verball spells for something so stupid."

"Well, I knew you were delusional before, but now it's perfectly clear that you just don't have a brain."

As though your words were a signal, a tsunami of white ice balls appear in the sky and you don't hold back your smile as it pauses over your team. They each look up, faces with panicked expressions, and before they can even begin to escape, the snow crashes down over your peers. Figuring, it's the perfect moment to leave, you zoom out of the field on your broom and land to your feet once you can't see those angry faces anymore.

And that's when you hear him. That laugh, and he's looking at you and combing a hand through his ginger hair, all whilst adorning a satisfied ear-to-ear grin.

"Thanks." Is all you can say at first, then you realise his partner-in-crime George isn't right by his side. "Where's your brother?"

"On the other end of the field."

You nod. When you don't say anything more and turn to leave, you feel long fingers wrap around your wrist. He's warm against your icy skin, and your eyes shoot up, only to be greeted by a soft smirk.

"You're not going to snitch on us are you, your highness?"

"Me? Snitch?" You stop yourself from feeling so giddy about the previous event and instead focus on the fact that would you be doing your prefectoral duties correctly, you would have absolutely told a Professor about the twins. But the adrenaline rush feels too great and so you finally shake your head at the tall ginger. "You were just... watching us practice, right? I don't see anything suspicious about that."

His smirk twists into a genuine smile, and he allows your wrist to slide out of his grasp. A twinkle of mischievousness reaches your eyes, and then you're off, jogging into the distance. A few metres in, you take a chance to glance back to where you left Fred. And you don't know whether it was from training or the adrenaline, but you feel your neck and cheeks flare with heat at the sight of him lean against the frame of the entrance, steadily watching you run.

Clearing your throat, you push your recollection of the past away and take out your wand.

“You know you’re not allowed to use spells outside of class, your highness,” says Fred, his voice playful.

“That’s okay,” you shrug, “because I know you won’t tell on me.”

“Are you quite sure about that?” George chimes.

You nod immediately, the easiest question to answer. “I’m your favourite prefect, am I not?”

Fred’s expression is unreadable to you at first as he shakes his head slowly. He looks shocked, but at the same time pleased and a hint of something else that you can’t quite grasp.

Figuring you’ve stared at him long enough you send the twins’ a wink and the door shuts with a swipe of your wand.

»»————-　⌁　————-««

Your robe is floating behind you, a spitting image of Professor Snape, as you walk with purpose to your class, books cradled in your arms and head held high. You round a corner of the halls smoothly and find yourself at your Potions classroom. It's been a week since finding the Weasleys in there, and you still haven't found out what concoction they had created.

In any case, your class has already begun, and Snape's voice is barely audible with the door in front of you. You let your fingers clench around your books for a moment, taking in a breath. Then you push your way in, and each one of your classmates turn their attention to you.

"How lovely of you to join us, Miss L/N."

Having already predicted the Professor's sarcasm-filled reaction to your tardiness, you hand out a small slip of paper. "A note from Professor McGonagall."

He barely skims over the words and indicates for you to find a seat. Fingers clenching around your books again, you let yourself look over your peers. There's a seat next to Ginger Jorkins from Hufflepuff, but after noticing your stare she's quick to put her belongings where you could have sat. You hold off from sighing, because to your relief there is one more free seat, all the way at the back of the room. Right beside the vacant spot is a familiar head of red hair, and the pain from your tight grip subsides upon seeing him. That sigh you've been holding lets free once you sit down and the class continues.

"Welcome to the back of the class," Fred whispers with his signature grin. "You're with the cool kids now."

"Speaking of..." You glance behind him and frown. "Where's your brother?"

He makes a face. "What do you mean?"

"I mean..." And then it hits you. The Slytherin versus Gryffindor Quidditch Game. The compromise. The "make-sure-that-Slytherin-wins" game. The "George-has-been-completely-annihilated-by-a-bludger" and "won't-be-walking-around-anytime-soon" game.

"Oh... right."

Fred simply nods, finding the way you froze for a moment to be equally funny and endearing. The rest of your face doesn't show it, but he notices the panic in your pretty eyes and gives your arm a little nudge. "Hey. The git's okay. Says it was worth the pain because the girl he fancies paid him a visit."

You bite your lip and let yourself focus on Snape, who's mouth is moving, but you can't hear anything coming out. "It's still technically my fault. He looked awful."

Fred leans forward, his head turning to rest against his crossed arms. He studies your features as you attempt to listen into the class. When he speaks, his voice is a whisper again. "Come to Hogsmeade with me."

You give him a side glance. No one's ever invited you to come before and for all you know he could be making fun of you. It'd been hard in the beginning, though you eventually found comfort being in your own presence; drinking butterbeer while other people joked and laughed and shared stories and the gossip of the week. And talked about how they received a pointless detention after being told off from that know-it-all bitch.

"I-I don't..." You stumble upon your words, the crease between your brows growing deeper as you try to recollect your thoughts.

"Yeah, you're coming," he declares. And when you go to protest, he sits back up, sending you a wink.

"AND so..." Snape glares in your direction, "by the end of this class, I will be testing the quality of your potions by using a simple leaf. If it melts you've brewed successfully, and if not... you'll be in here on the weekend till you get it right."

To your surprise, Fred doesn't make a fuss, instead he beams at you with a clap of his hands. "Let's get started then, shall we Professor?"

The said man only grunts in response, so you all begin.

Forty minutes passes by in an instant, and no matter how well you follow the recipe, the liquid in your cauldron doesn't look like a liquid anymore and it smells differently to Fred's.

Wait. Fred's?

You frown down into his cauldron. His potion's immaculate.

You pull at the sleeve of his robe till his head comes down and his long hair tickles the tip of your nose. "How are you doing this?"

"I'm smart when I want to be," he chuckles.

"That's not an answer. I demand you give me an answer, or... I will take off points from Gryffindor."

He feigns an expression of shock which immediately gives way to a smirk, face just a few inches away from yours. "And what if I do tell you? You promise not to snitch?"

"Me? Snitch?"

That mischievousness is back into your dolomitic eyes, and Fred swears that the potion isn't required to melt the leaf.

"How about a compromise?" you whisper.

He shoots a glance toward the Professor and then hums when he feels it's all clear to keep talking. "I'm listening."

"I come with you to Hogsmeade, and I promise to do whatever you want to do. Deal?"

He doesn't need a moment, or even a second to reply. He's already nodding, slipping a hand into yours. "Deal."

You share a knowing look and shake your intwined hands. Compromise confirmed. "Now—"

Before you get to finish, he pulls out a very familiar cork-screwed flask, and in perfect fashion you keep from gasping or reacting at all, but Fred can see it in your eyes. He scans over the classroom, Snape's busy writing something on the board, and so he's clear to lower his head to you.

Your fingers graze as he passes you the concoction he had made with his brother. Electricity runs through the veins of your fingers till it hits your heart, skipping a beat.

"Someone might've tipped us off about this assignment," Fred murmurs. "So, naturally, we just wanted to be prepared. There was no way we were going to miss out on a Hogsmeade visit."

Not with George in the Hospital Wing, you think to yourself with guilt, pulling your robe sleeve down to hide the flask should your Professor stop by.

"Well... my beloved brother sadly will. I'll never forget his bravery." Fred makes a show out of a simple sigh and you feel like slapping his arm. He places his hand over his chest and sighs again, only it's a little louder this time and longer. "A girl we know threatened us to rig the Quidditch game so that Slytherin would win, if we didn't do as she asked she would've gotten us into trouble—"

"Fred." Images of the poor Weasley twin with a whole half of his body covered in the sickening colour of a bruise flood your brain.

"—and being the good man that he is, Georgie sacrificed himself, in order to satisfy the needs of this girl."

"Oi! I already feel horrible, okay?" You finally give his arm that well-earned smack, and when all he does is laugh, you huff with a pout.

He recollects himself, and makes sure Snape's still preoccupied. He bends down to your level again, and his breath fans over the strands of hair by your ear. "I would do the same for this girl."

There's that heat in your neck again and yet another electric feeling runs up your spine at his worlds. You don't meet his gaze and instead stare forward. To save yourself from embarrassment, you lift your chin and with one swift movement, the liquid from the flask falls into your cauldron.

Fred watches in delight as you stir until your previously horrible creation morphs and dissolves into that flawless fluid that you had just seen in the Weasley's cauldron. From such a result, you're unable to stop yourself as your lips curl into a smile, parting slowly to reveal your teeth.

You are the embodiment of this potion. Any person or creature of the magical world would completely disarm at the sight of your expression. And Fred's lucky enough to be your first victim.

"You seem very pleased, Miss L/N."

The black figure of Snape shadows yours and Fred's vision as he glides in front of your desk. He peers into your cauldron, nothing shows on his face and then he's examining Fred's, the same reaction of nothing.

The man then clicks his tongue and floats back to the front of the classroom, picking two leaves off of the plant on his desk. He returns swiftly, gesturing the rest of the class to join him by your table.

"Look closely." Snape says as his hand hovers over your creation, and then his fingers let go of the green object.

Hushed breaths watch as it hits the surface of the liquid with a ripple. There's no reaction at first and it fills you with dread. You even see Fred stiffen in the corner of your sight.

Then the leaf twitches with a change in colour, and soon it's no where to be seen, dissolved. Successful.

Someone mutters a 'wow', others share glances of contempt or roll their eyes. You on the other hand feel relieved and lean onto your hip, arm brushing against the tall boy beside you. He relaxes at your gentle touch.

"It seems you will have the fortune of freedom this weekend." Professor Snape mutters, and then with no time to waste, moves on to Fred. You barely have a chance to thank the man. His hand hovers, fingers open and a new leaf falls.

In a blink, the leaf has melted and you feel the Weasley straighten up in pride.

Snape however, isn't convinced and folds his arms. "How convenient that you should produce a successful potion - out of many failures - when seated beside Miss L/N."

Innocent until proven guilty, you think and look up at Fred, who's only smiling like a fool, his focused trained on Snape's. Your classmates murmur, and it isn't hard to place who they're talking about with their not-so subtle glares pointed in your direction.

"So I did a good job?" The boy's happy expression grows with innocence.

"Somehow. Five points... to each of you." The raven-haired man admits, his gaze lingers on the Weasley before he turns away, addressing you both and the rest of the class. "L/N and Weasley, seeing as you have completed the task, you may be dismissed. However, by next class I expect a 2,000 word written report of your method and findings. That'll be all. The rest of you... you have fifteen minutes."

Groans and curses hidden under breaths echo through the room, you and Fred, however, turn to each other with eyebrows raised and stupid grins plastered over your faces.

Adrenaline kicks in, and you both scramble to clear up the desk and snatch up your belongings. You sprint out the door not after sending the Professor a 'thank you', and then you're out the door and sprinting into the courtyard, crisp winter air nipping at your extremities.

You pause by the fountain, leaning against the tall structure and Fred follows suit, situating himself in front of you. "I can't believe I did that," you say in a breathless tone still grinning, books hugging into your chest.

He chuckles in between his own pants of breath. "Feels good doesn't it, your highness?"

"I hate to admit but... yes."

You watch as his gaze on you softens, as well as his grin subduing into contentment. "You make a good partner-in-crime. I think I might just replace George."

"Then he will surely kill me once he's recovered! That is... if he doesn't already."

Fred winks, "I'll make sure that won't happen. A princess such as yourself deserves a knight-in-shining armour."

"Oh yes." You give a curtsy and wave of your hand, your voice forming a posh accent. Well, no more posh than you already sound. "Then will you do the honour of escorting me to Hogsmeade tomorrow?"

With a fist to his chest, Fred bows. "For you, my dear, anything."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

It's irregular of you to be so fashionably late. Last night you'd found yourself restless, thoughts of sleep hidden behind scenes of you and Fred eating candy together, laughing, using magic outside of class to throw snowballs at your Quidditch Captain. Despite the chill of a winter night, being covered by your duvet and blankets was suffocatingly warm, especially when you kept seeing Fred pull you behind a tree, gloved hands drawing you into him by your hips, noses barely touching and lips parted with warm butterbeered breaths.

Your chocolate-brown screech owl whinnies by the foot of your bed and you flinch, adjusting your beanie for the hundredth time. "What do you think, Prim? Do I look tired? I look tired, don't I?"

The owl blinks and gives another whinny, a sound similar to that of a miniature pony. You check the clock on the wall of your dormitory and bite your lip, jostling through your belongings and retrieving a small purse of galleons to shove into your coat pocket.

One more look in the mirror, just one more. Your hair looks surprising lovely, strands of it squished against your thick scarf, and fortunately covering areas of your blemished face that couldn't be covered enough by your concealer. "It'll have to do!"

Prim purrs when you stroke her head and then you're off. You almost trip at the bottom of the stairs and as a result you pause, taking in a breath, calming the pounding in your chest. This Hogsmeade visit is just like any other. Just like any other. You’re just… not alone this time. That’s enough to get you smiling, as you saunter through the halls and finally out the gates, where you see a few groups of students still hanging around Hogwarts.

At the top of the steps you crane your neck in an attempts to find Fred amongst the small groups.

“I was beginning to think you stood me up.”

You spin on your heels at the sound of his voice, and are greeted with a growing grin. Teeth sparkling and everything. It takes a toll on you not to tackle him in a hug right then and there. The thick hoody he’s adorning, as well as the adorable beanie all look extra cuddly. Those gloved hands that you’ve been thinking about slide out of the pockets of his jeans and reach for your scarf, gently tightening the fabric around your face and neck.

On the outside you seem unbothered by his action, but he already sees what you’re really feeling through those dolomitic eyes of yours. “A deal’s a deal,” you finally say. “But it was rude of me to keep you waiting so long, so I’ll buy you a butterbeer.”

He shakes his head, fiddling with the hem of the scarf. “You turning up is enough for me.”

You shake your head back, dipping your chin into the material to hide your smile. “I’m buying you one. Argument over.”

“Alright then.” He chuckles and gives your scarf a gentle tug. “No more time to waste, your highness, let’s go.”

“Lead the way, Sir Weasley.”

You’re perfectly giddy as you trudge your way to the little village. Fred tells you about his plans for Christmas and you tell him yours, not very big and not very exciting, but he adores listening to you speak. He tells you about George and his recovery, and teases you when he sees guilt written over your face. Then despite your many differences, you both bond over your love for Quidditch, especially the Irish team. Occasionally, your shoulders and arms graze, and other times your fingers, as you stomp through the snow covered grounds. With every touch your chest grows warm, and your belly flips. You almost forget that you should be looking out for any bad behaviour. You almost forget that you still have a duty to uphold to the school.

Hogsmeade is bustling with life when you finally arrive. More so now that you could share it with someone.

“Come on, let’s warm up first.” Fred tugs your scarf again and successfully gains your full attention. He pulls you into the Three Broomsticks, greeted immediately by a wave of warmth. He’s still pulling on your scarf so you swiftly ask for two hot butterbeers and allow him to lead you to a table at the far end of the room.

“Am I your pet? Leading me around like that.” You sit down opposite him, motioning to his hand still holding onto the end of the long material.

He hums for a moment, and doesn't look to have any intention of letting go. “More like restraining you from going into ‘prefect’ mode.”

"Hey! Some people need disciplining," you pout.

"You sound like a Professor..." he narrows his eyes at you, lacking the skills to stop smiling so big. "You're not Professor Snape using Polyjuice potion, are you? Trying to figure out my secrets for passing your class, huh?"

Slowly, meticulously you straighten your back and fold your hands over the table, and void any emotion on your face. Your voice is low and slow and articulating every syllable as you speak. "What a ri-di-cu-lous suggestion. However... while we are on the topic, you didn't... copy off me, did you?"

Fred is so bad at suppressing his smirk. "Bloody Norah, you found me out! You're so smart, Profess— I mean... your highness."

The clink of glass hitting your table interrupts yours and Fred's thoughts. Madam Rosmerta's standing over you and when you meet her gaze she winks. "Good to see you with company this time around, Y/N."

Your face squishes into the fabric that Fred's still holding onto as you feel heat rise in your cheeks. Desperate to eliminate the fact that she basically just called you a loner in front of him, you fish into your pocket and pull out some coins, placing them onto the woman's open palm. "Thank you, Madam Rosmerta."

"Pleasure, dears. Enjoy.” Another wink is sent your way and she’s off to tend the rest of her pub.

As you bring the hot beverage to your mouth, you peek through your eyelashes. Fred has removed one glove and is now using that bare hand hold onto his drink, allowing the warmth to transfer into his already warm skin.

"Thank you," he says.

Your brows press together, "what for?"

"For paying."

"Well... thank you too."

He raises an eyebrow as he takes a good sip of the butterbeer, waiting for you to elaborate.

"For inviting me," you say shyly, fingers sliding across the surface of the mug.

"Awh, that's nothing," he chuckles, gently swaying your scarf.

"It's not 'nothing'. I didn't get a wink of sleep last night because I was so excited to come with you."

The ginger-haired boy presses his lips together tightly and then leans his face closer to you. "Wait, really?!"

How many times has it been now that you've felt your face heat up around Fred? You could play so coy and confident before, but now you felt like any other girl-with-a-crush in your year. "As a matter of fact, yes." You raise your chin and attempt to sit up straighter. "I know it may seem that I only agreed to come because of a compromise, but... I really did — do — appreciate you considering me."

"I don't think we'll need to stop by Honeydukes, your highness. You're so sweet, that my teeth already ache."

"You're so...!" You smack his arm.

But he's grinning like a fool, pulling at your scarf. "I'm so what?"

"I'm gonna take points off Gryffindor, just because you asked."

He guffaws, "what is this abuse of power?"

You take a swig of butterbeer and shrug, head high and smirk on display. "I like to call them perks."

"See?" You feel on your neck as he gives a tug-tug. "This is why you need to be kept on a lead."

Before you can retort, you notice he's pointing at his upper-lip and quietly chuckling. It sets off your heart.

"Brilliant moustache you got there," he says.

"Oh... thank you." How embarrassing. You really thought he was suggesting something else for a moment there. You glance around the room to make sure no one's watching before you slide a tongue over the sweet foam above your lip. "Is it gone?"

"Just..." at first there's a second of hesitation, but then he pulls you in over the table and meets you half-way, un-gloved hand coming up to cup your face. Why is he always so warm? Why is it that one of the most notorious rule-breakers of the school is taking your fancy? And so easily at that.

It feels like an hour passes when his thumb smooths over the left corner of your mouth and you hold in a breath, fingers clenched around your mug. You simply cannot help the urge to look at his own lips; pretty, pink and gently parted, calm breaths passing through.

His movements pause all of a sudden, so you glance at his eyes, but he's already looking at you. Completely under your spell, completely forgetting how to move, and completely forgetting that you're in public. You seem to have forgotten the same, still not pulling away from his touch. He catches your eyes dip to his lips again and he swallows thickly.

Then he's moving away and sitting back down, clearing his throat. "There, now you're good."

"Thanks," you wipe a finger over for extra measure and then look out the window, clearing your throat and straightening your back.

"You know how you mentioned that part of the deal was that we'd do anything I want to do?" He inquires, finishing his drink with a last swig.

"Yeah. A deal is a deal," you answer, finally turning back to him, surprised to see a confident smile carved into his features.

"Perfect. There's something I want to show you, but first I have a really good idea to help you unwind and forget about your prefect-ness."

"That doesn't sound good," you tease, chugging the last bit of your own butterbeer.

He's smirking now, "you won't be saying that when you see what we'll be doing."

»»————-　⌁　————-««

You're both crouched behind a boulder that oversees the Shrieking Shack in the distance. The perfect spot to spy on anyone who visits the lookout point. The perfect spot to snog outside of school walls. And it also happens to be the perfect spot to stock up on snowballs and wait for one particular person to fall into your trap.

"I hate to admit, but you were right, Sir Weasley. Again," you mutter, rubbing your gloved hands together.

"The more you hang out with me, the more you'll find out just how right I always am." He peeks over the boulder for a moment and then his hand shoots up in alarm, speaking in barely a whisper, "he's here."

He is. You can hear your Quidditch captain now and a few of his buddies, chatting and laughing. Someone puts on a voice, and it makes the group howl, but makes your stomach churn. The closer they get to the lookout, the clearer their words sound and the more you're looking forward to breaking the rules.

"—thinks she's all that, just 'cause she's a prefect. Like, bitch, I'm older than you!"

Their laughter is equal to that of nails on a chalkboard. Pelting them with some snowballs might not be fulfilling enough.

"Nah, it's 'cause she's got Snape behind her, hah. Thinks she can say and do whatever she wants."

Fred is hearing all of this. You feel like screaming, and perhaps hexing the hell out of all of them. They need a proper disciplining.

"Yeah, that's probably what's happening!" The group laugh again, and the next thing they say is the last straw. "She only got prefect because she's fucking him."

The bottom of your vision is blurry, but you tell Fred you're ready and he only nods. You both raise your wands, and he counts to three.

One snowball hits the back of the captain's head and to your satisfaction he lands on his face. You and Fred are enjoying the scene a little too much that it isn't until one of the idiots shout your name, do you realise you've blown your cover.

"Shoot!"

"Quick! We need to unleash all we've got!" Fred takes your free hand and guides you up to stand beside him. "One, two, THREE!"

Adrenaline shoots through your veins, as together you swish your wands and the rest of your snow pile is sent into the air. One more flick of the wands, and the balls fly with the speed of a snitch. Straight toward their faces. Exclamations, grunts, yells echo through the woods and open winter air. They swipe at their faces and eyes, blinded by your attack. The captain's still trying to recover from the first hit, from head to toe the entire front half of him is covered in white.

You let out a laugh, and suddenly Fred takes your hand again and you're sprinting away from the crime scene.

"HEY!" The Quidditch captain shouts after you, pure rage in his tone.

But you couldn't care less, because that grin on the Weasley's face is too contagious as you run by him, gloved hand in gloved hand.

He peeks over his shoulder to meet your gaze, only resulting in a skip of his heart and a flip of his stomach. Losing that Quidditch match was absolutely worth it, and Fred had to remind himself to thank George later for taking the blow.

You share breathless laughter as the shouts increase in amount, but decrease in volume. You're both much too fast for them and manage to get back to the village where you could hide within the crowds.

Your feet slow to a walk, and you both check if any of the idiots followed. Fred spots two pass by a tree and squeezes your hand to gain your attention.

"In here," he jerks his head, and pulls you into a small alley between two buildings.

Finally having a moment to catch your breath, you realise that it isn't really an alley, and more like a small gap. The space is so narrow in fact that your body is essentially pressed up against his. Back against wall. Heaving chest against heaving chest. Feet and legs side-by-side each other as though woven.

You don't care to look to your left where those jerks could be looking for you. You simply can't. You can't because all you can see are Fred's parted lips again, and he's looking down at yours. After which, your gazes meet and you don't think you've ever felt so hot in the middle of winter before.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes. No grin, no smirk, no teasing, just facts.

"And you're..." Your eyes dip again.

His hand slides out of yours, and then you feel weight by your hips and he's squeezing against the material of your pants and sweater.

You crane your neck, and he dips his head, as those gloved hands of his pull you into him.

Your own hunger has your fingers smooth over his chest and grip the collar of his hoody, desperately tugging for him to come closer and closer, tension in the air building with each breath.

"And I'm... what?" He purrs.

Something stirs in the bottom of your abdomen as the scent of butterbeer fills your senses, just millimetres away now. And then he captures your lips. And it's like heaven, because his hands can't help but slide up under your sweater and hold you by the skin of your waist.

At first the kiss is gentle, hesitant, but then you open your mouth a little wider and Fred takes this as a clear invitation. He smooths a tongue over yours, the taste of the sweet foamy drink still lingering on your lips.

His bold action elicits a hum from you, and his grip only tightens, craving more and more of you and your pretty sounds. You go until you can't breathe, mouths parting reluctantly but eyes still closed.

Fred presses his forehead against yours, your noses brushing in a feather-like touch. His thumbs caress your sides as he whispers, "you never answered my question."

"You wanna know what you are, right?” You murmur, hands sliding down over his collarbone and resting on his chest.

“Yeah. You’ve said it twice now and never finished your sentence.”

“Okay,” you lean in, lips feathering over his. “You’re…”

Good Godric you’re addicting. He pushes his head forward to meet you, but you pull back with the most attractive breathy laugh he's ever heard. Your lips stay brushing against his, but you won't give him any more than that and he loves it.

"You're..." you say again on his mouth, and he hangs on every single one of your words. "You're the best thing that's ever happened to me at Hogwarts."

He watches your eyes for a moment, and leans into you once more, hands climbing up to lay flat against your back, your sweater pooling by his wrists. And you share the softest kiss ever, full of adoration, full of care, full of absolute affection.

"You saying that, you being here right now... feels like I've just won the Quidditch cup," he says when you part.

"I really mean it, Fred." You wrap your arms around his middle and squeeze him there, cheek squishing into his chest. "You've heard how people talk about me, but you don't seem to care about any of that stuff."

He returns your gesture, his own cheek landing on the top of your head. "You're right. I don't care about it, because I've seen how much you care for the school and care for keeping things in order. A little too much, but to each their own."

"Oi."

"I have to tease, I have to. Still, joking aside, if anyone says that kind of shit about you and you hear about it, find me and tell me. Me and Georgie have your back."

"Just don't get caught," you smirk.

"You won't take points away if you catch us, will you?"

You pull away from the cuddle and send him that beautifully, intimidating smile of yours. "Not if you promise to keep losing your Quidditch games."

"Low blow, your highness!" He laughs and then you're running away, giggling like a fool.

You manage to slip through the crowds and head toward the woods by the Shrieking Shack lookout, your giggles only getting louder and more frequent when you see Fred bounding closer and closer to you. Your cadence slows when the ground starts to feel icy under your boots, and sooner than you think, you feel arms wrap around your stomach and you squeal.

Fred's laugh vibrates against your back, and after a few pants of breath he speaks into your ear. "There's still something I wanted to show you."

"Oh?" You spin around in his hold. "That's right. What is it then?"

"Surprise. Follow me." He's hasty in his movements, as he takes your hand, running further into the woods. Then he rounds the corner of a large tree trunk, his fingers slip out of yours as he twists around to face you and then he's pulling you by your hips, grin on display.

Your heart flips when your back meets with the rough surface of the tree, bodies pressing into one another and then his mouth is hovering over yours. There's hunger in his eyes, yet he's waiting for your next move.

"Wow. 'I have something to show you'. That was so corny," you tease in a whisper.

He chuckles, feeling your lips just barely touch his, "but you loved it."

"I did. You're right again, Sir Weasley."

"Always am, your highness."

He squeezes your hips. You lift your chin and you kiss for a third time that day.

[wheretfismybrother]

and i can't help that the devil likes to come and rest his little head

summary: Your sweet devil came back to you, declaring his love and now, you were both kneeling in front of each other, holding each other so lovingly.

When you heard the word 'devil', you didn't think of sharp horns and the colour red.

Instead, your own idea of devil came in green. Your devil was intelligent and handsome, with soft, curly hair.

Your own idea of a devil was Tom Riddle.

You knew of the evil deeds he had done, how he had framed Morfin Gaunt for the murder of the Riddle family and how he had ordered his Basilisk to kill that Ravenclaw girl. You knew of the dark magic that coursed through his veins.

He was cunning and determined. He wouldn't even think twice about using people for his own needs and throwing them aside once he had what he desired.

So, why were you still here?

It was a question you didn't want the answer to, in fear of driving him away, but it was a question that you couldn't help but to repeat in your mind. You doubted Tom would be happy upon hearing that question. You doubted that he would be overjoyed at the realisation that he didn't have a valid reason to keep you around besides—

Besides...

He had wordlessly pulled you closer, with his slender hands gripping your shoulders. He pressed your body against his, and you enjoyed how it felt so right. Despite him being whoever he was, this felt right. You didn't say a word when he moved his hands from your shoulders to sneak his arms around your waist. You didn't say a word when he rested his head against yours. You didn't say a word as you returned his embrace, noticing the way he exhaled, as if being in your arms had freed him from all his burdens.

You didn't say a word because you knew this was what he needed — you.

Whenever you thought of the why, it always ended up with the same reason. The same absurd reason. It was extremely absurd of you to even think that someone like Tom Riddle would even indulge himself in love, of all things.

A part of you hoped that he would, you really hoped that he would.

The signs were there, and everyone could see it. Everyone knew how he felt about you and how you felt about him, because it was obvious.

It was easy to notice his affection towards you when you would catch him staring at you more than once. He wouldn't even look away sometimes. He always looked as if he was trying to uncover something about you, to look into you deeper and more. It was easy to notice his affection towards you when he would randomly brush away the few strands of hair away from your face with the softest touch and when he would tuck your hair behind your ear whenever you were talking.

It seemed like he didn't know why he did what he did with you. Perhaps, he knew but he was scared to acknowledge it. It was funny to you, that you knew him more than he knew himself.

You waited for the day where he would acknowledge his own feelings for you, despite how impossible that would be.

As you stared at Tom planning out his ambitions and telling you about the world he envisioned, you were reminded once again that he wasn't for you.

You loved him, genuinely. You loved the thrill you felt whenever you were with him, you loved the danger of him and you loved that he was him. You even saw him as more, the Hogwarts prodigy, the perfect knowledgeable man and the gentleman who always treated you with the best care despite the things he had done.

You saw him as what he could be.

That was your problem.

He had stopped talking, and his attention was now on his book with his other hand holding yours. Your heart jumped at the his warmth now that you acknowledged it.

You pulled away.

He looked up instantly, staring at you curiously.

"What are we, Tom?" you whispered.

He blinked. "Why do you ask?"

"Can't I?"

"You were never bothered by us," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"That was before. It was fun before but now—" you swallowed, when you noticed his eyebrows furrowed. "Now, I've grown tired of it. You have a future planned out, and I have my own too."

He closed his book loudly, leaning closer to you. You could feel irritation coming off from him.

"And just what is your future?" he asked through gritted teeth.

"The future that I see?" you whispered. "One without you in it."

"You're leaving me?" he asked incredulously.

"I love you," you said, causing him to lean back, visibly startled at the three words that you had never said to each other, despite feeling it. "I do, and I've always been by your side with whatever you do."

You took his hand in yours. "I have a bright future for myself, everyone could see it, everyone says that, and I can't have that by staying with you, Tom. You know what you do, don't you?"

His jaw clenched. "This is about what I do? Do you want me to leave them all behind, then?"

"No," you said sharply. "I'm not asking you to change for me, I've accepted that it wasn't ever going to happen. I'm saying that I'm leaving you because our paths are different."

"You've accepted that it wasn't going to happen?" he laughed cruelly. "You've lost hope for me now?"

"Perhaps, I did," you replied, standing up. This wasn't going anywhere. You were supposed to just say it and leave him. "But why should you care? I'm not here to fix you, am I? That's not the reason you keep me around, is it?"

He pressed his lips into a thin line and you raised an eyebrow. "You were expecting me to fix you?"

"I know what I do is morally wrong, yet you never stopped me," he said quietly. "It was almost as if you liked me that way."

"Because I can't stop you."

"You never tried," he replied quickly, with a hint of desperation in his voice. What was he desperate for?

"It doesn't matter now," you hissed in irritation. He was making it harder for you. Could you even consider this a breakup if you were never officially together?

You stepped closer. "It doesn't matter now because I realise that as much as I love you, I'm in love with the idea of what you could be, not what you are right now."

"You..." you whispered. "You're an evil man, Tom. I wish you weren't. I wish you were the boy that everyone sees, that my parents approved of me to be with, that Slughorn speaks so highly of. Do you know how proud I am whenever he speaks of having connections in the Ministry and wanting to help you out in the future as soon as you get out of Hogwarts?"

You laughed humourlessly. "But you don't want that."

He whispered, "Your parents approved of me? Of us?"

"Again, it doesn't matter now," you replied sharply. You turned around and approached the door. As you held the doorknob, you said quietly, "I'm sorry that this conversation had to go this way. Goodluck with your Horcruxes, Tom. I know you'll succeed in being the greatest."

"I hope..." you continued. "I hope that I won't find myself facing the end of your wand one day."

A week had passed and you were glad to say that you were doing better. You did feel miserable after leaving him for good, but you started seeing on the brighter side. He wasn't meant for you and you weren't meant for him, no matter how much you thought you could change him.

He was your type, certainly. Intelligent, bad and cunning, but having him in your life wouldn't do you any good. You certainly had a thing for the broken things, but you knew the difference between fantasy and reality, and the reality was that he was going to stay that way.

Your friends had asked you what happened between you two. Other people did too, and even Slughorn, which was not surprising for you, considering he was Tom's biggest fan. You just chose to tell them that you both decided to take a break. You refused to tell them why.

You just hoped Tom was saying the same thing if he was asked these questions.

You did miss him, terribly. Seeing him everyday didn't help that feeling. You certainly did still love him, but you found other things to occupy yourself with, hence why you were doing better. Even when there were times you wished you never left him, it didn't matter and you didn't show it. Plus, you've always been good at pretending.

You were going to pretend until you actually feel fine and completely moved on from him, but you would catch him staring. Whenever you did, it was almost like nothing had changed. You hated that.

You weren't actually in love with him, were you?

Of course not, you loved the idea of him.

You loved that he was bad and powerful, that he was capable of things other people weren't.

You also loved that he treated you with care, listened to everything you told him and paid attention to everything you told him. You loved that he would remember things about you that you wouldn't expect anyone else to remember—Tom Riddle was never anyone else, was he?

Perhaps, you did love him, but you couldn't ignore the bad things he did and what he achieved to be.

You sighed as you closed the book you were reading. Despite that it had already been a week, not a day went by where you didn't think of him.

Weekends were usually your favourite time of the week, because you always had something planned, something to do. This week, however, something was different. Was it because most of your plans before usually involved him?

As you tucked your book under your arm, you bid goodbye to your friends, who cheerfully returned the gesture.

You noticed how their expression had suddenly changed to looking startled, how their gazes were now fixed on something behind you. You wanted to ask what was wrong, but your curiosity was answered when someone cleared their throat behind you.

When your name was uttered by the person behind you, by that certain someone, you felt that familiar feeling again. The thrill, the butterflies in your stomach and how your heart skipped a beat.

You turned around, meeting the gaze of Tom Riddle.

You noticed that you had gathered some attention from the people around you, but he didn't seem to mind. He looked at you with an unreadable expression on his face, but if you had to identify it, it would be anxiousness.

What would Tom Riddle be anxious for?

"Come with me," he said softly, stretching out a hand for you to take.

You glanced at his hand briefly and you couldn't help but to notice something was missing. Where's your ring, Tom?

"Please," he added urgently.

As you let your heart decide for you, you wordlessly took his hand.

You walked by his side through the many corridors and you were grateful to feel the warmth of his hand again, to feel his touch again. You didn't question him, you didn't want to.

To your surprise and horror, both of you stopped in the girl's bathroom.

You watched in fear as he murmured something in Parseltongue and you immediately retracted your hand as the entrance that led to Chamber of Secrets emerged. He turned to you, and you noticed that he was holding his diary in his other hand.

Your eyes flickered between the familiar entrance and him.

"I won't tell anyone about what you do," you whispered, stepping back.

He quickly held onto your wrist before you could take another step. "I'm not here to harm you. I would never even try to."

"Then why are we here?"

He slowly slid his hand down from your wrist to your hand, before letting it go and stepping closer to the entrance. "For you to change your mind."

He jumped down and you hurriedly stepped forward, watching his figure disappear into the darkness.

You were terrified, but your trust in him overpowered that fear.

You jumped.

You had clung onto him all the way to the Chamber, hands curled into fists and gripping onto his coat. Despite being here two to three times before with him, the pathway that led you to the Chamber would still scare you. You still remembered how you had jumped on Tom the first time you saw the Basilisk's shredded skin, thinking it was the actual thing. You also remembered how he had caught you effortlessly and tried his best to calm you down. Your heart jumped at the memory.

This was not how you expected your Sunday would go. What you expected was a Tom Riddle-less and Chamber of Secrets-less Sunday. Anything but your current situation.

You couldn't even stop the negative thoughts that were clouding your mind at the moment. He could easily kill you and leave you here, and no one would find you. He never harmed you before, and he just said that he would never even try, but you weren't together anymore. Things were different now.

Once again, you were pathetically hoping that he would change.

You let go of his coat once you both had entered the Chamber, slowly walking beside him now and resting a hand on your wand.

"Don't be so tense," he said, with a hint of amusement in his voice that got you offended.

"This is funny to you," you pointed out in disbelief.

"You have nothing to be afraid of. As long as I'm here, you have nothing to be afraid of," he said softly, with his voice now devoid of humour.

"You're not going to kill me?" you whispered, feeling slightly ridiculous now saying it out loud.

He pressed his lips into a thin line, as if you had just said something offensive to him. Perhaps it was indeed offensive.

"Is that what you think of me now?"

"I would dispose of me, if I were you."

"Fortunately for me, you are not me," he said, before looking at where you knew the Basilisk would be resting. "You know what to do, don't you?"

Despite your fear, you obeyed and immediately stood in front of him, facing him. "Why?" you asked urgently, afraid.

"I'm not letting it out for you," Tom murmured. "Please don't be so afraid."

You swallowed, once again placing your trust in him. You lowered your head and closed your eyes. Now that you had blocked out one sense, your hearing was heightened.

Tom was saying something in Parseltongue, and you heard the sound of the stone moving distantly behind you. You couldn't help but to step forward to where Tom was and grip onto his coat once again. You felt his hand on your back, rubbing it softly as an attempt to comfort you.

You heard something moving behind you and you wanted nothing more than to leave. Knowing that a historical beast was moving behind you, living, while you had your eyes closed was frightening.

Tom would protect you, right?

He said something in Parseltongue again and there was a few seconds of silence before he finally talked to you again.

"You can look now."

You slowly pulled away, hands still gripping onto his coat and lifted your head up to look at him, receiving a reassuring look in return. You turned around, flinching as soon as you set your eyes on the Basilisk, which had its deadly eyes closed.

"And why..." you swallowed. "Why is it here?"

"You said to me that..." he started, causing you to look back at him. "You told me that you love me."

You blinked, startled. "I did."

"Do you, still, love me?" he asked softly.

"Does it matter?"

"Yes," he said firmly. "Because I love you."

You sputtered and let go of him in surprise. "What are you trying to do?"

"Stay with me. Come back to me," he said, almost desperately. "Come back to me and I will leave everything behind. In fact, right now—this diary, my very first Horcrux, I will destroy it right here."

He said desperately, while holding up his Horcrux to show you. "I can be what you want me to be, just come back to me."

"This is quite rushed," you said softly. "Why are you giving up your dreams for one person? What happens when you regret it?"

"I won't regret it," he said firmly, jaw clenching. "You are not just one person. You're my person, who stayed with me throughout everything, made me feel the things I didn't expect to feel and—you understand me more than anyone else."

"So, please," he whispered. "Tell me... do you still love me?"

You nodded. "With my whole heart."

"Can I be yours—again?"

You nodded again, unable to find any words.

He looked down at his diary, with his thumb softly caressing the cover, treating his soul so lovingly.

"You said your parents approved of me," he whispered. "I couldn't stop thinking about that. I also couldn't stop thinking about how... how you said you love me. It hurt me when you said that you hoped you wouldn't be facing the end of my wand one day. It hurt me that it even crossed your mind. It hurt me more that—if I continue on this path, there's a possibility that that might happen."

"One whole week without you," he continued. "It made me feel like how life was before I met you—empty. I always thought having power would fill that void, but it seemed that... it only widened it."

"Until you," he said, looking back up at you. "I never felt empty with you, I realised."

He then threw the book behind you, causing you to turn around and look at where it landed, right in front of the Basilisk. You almost jumped, as you had forgotten that the beast was still there.

"The Basilisk's venom is quite deadly," he stated, looking at his diary on the floor. "Tell me this is worth it."

You turned to him and told him the truth without hesitation. "It's worth it, Tom. We're worth it."

You looked up at him longingly, and placed a hand on his cheek, loving the way his eyes fluttered at your touch. He then spoke in Parseltongue for the Basilisk, despite still looking at you.

You heard the movements behind you, and you refused to look. You found that it was better to look into his eyes, until—

"Tom?!" you exclaimed, when he fell forward to you and groaned in pain.

You tried to hold him up, and you gasped as he fell to his knees, still moaning in pain.

"Tom!"

"It's—" he choked out. "The soul—"

You bit your lip, feeling useless now knowing that there was nothing you could do to ease his pain. Seeing him in pain was a new sight to you and you hated how it hurt your heart to see him like this, the usually composed Tom Riddle, kneeling on the floor in pain.

You chose to pull his head to your shoulder, wrapping your arms around his neck in hopes that your embrace would make him feel better.

It wasn't until a few moments later you realised that he wasn't groaning in pain anymore, only letting out heavy breaths on your shoulder. He lifted his head, resting his chin on your shoulder as he said something in Parseltongue. Behind you, you heard a movement, then water splashing slightly and finally, the sound of the stone again. The Basilisk was gone now.

You pulled away and cradled his face gently. He looked at you tiredly and wrapped his fingers around your wrists.

"I've already destroyed the ring yesterday," he said softly, with his thumb caressing the back of your hand affectionately. "The diary was the last one. I wanted to be with you when destroying it, especially after finding out how painful it was."

Your eyes burned and you blinked your eyes several times. You couldn't help the tears that pooled up in your eyes. You tried so hard to pretend that you were completely over him, but then your sweet devil came back to you, declaring his love and now, you were both kneeling in front of each other, holding each other so lovingly.

"You're mine again," you chuckled, as a tear fell from your eye.

"I am," he confirmed.

You sniffled and laughed, earning a small smile from him.

"I've missed your touch," he whispered. "It always feels right being touched by you. It makes me feel..."

"Loved?" you supplied.

"Loved," he nodded, seemingly coming to terms with it. "Do you feel the same way?"

"All the time, with you."

He licked his lips. "Tell me—what is your future?"

You tilted your head, brushing his hair back gently. "One with you in it."

He sighed in relief, as his hands found their way to your waist to pull you closer. When he pressed his lips against yours and moved them passionately, you agreed wholeheartedly, it felt right.

When he pulled away, he didn't hesitate to rest his head on your shoulder with his eyes closed, finding comfort in your embrace. You smiled to yourself, seeing your devil in such vulnerability that only you could see.

[wheretfismybrother]

Hi! I’m back 😬. I’m still extremely new to requesting so feel no pressure to write this soon. I was thinking of quiet!reader, who gets nervous when she is around Regulus and instantly starts saying the most out of pocket things and being chatty to fill in the silence. Regulus finds this amusing and usually keeps a serious, quiet demeanor to hear the weird things that come out of her mouth. 😊

looolllll the second I got this request it made me think of that Philomena Cunk meme on TikTok where people were like 'me whenever the conversation lulls' - so I had to borrow that quote!!! (let me know if you find it). Thanks so much for requesting babes - hope you love it 🫶

Regulus Black x quiet!fem reader (who can't shut up around him)

The world was out to get you, that much you were certain of. You were certain of this fact because this was the third time this week that your table in the library had somehow attracted the elusive Regulus Arcturus Black. 

Usually, this would not be an issue. In fact, one could argue this was a rather nonissue, seeing as you were sort of embarrassingly completely infatuated with the aggravatingly quiet boy in your year.

However, it appeared that the company of one Regulus Arcturus Black short-circuited some fundamental part of your brain which caused you to blurt out the most asinine comments known to all of wizardingkind – nay – humankind. The universe has never seen the likes of such horrible conversation. 

It went a little like this: 

Earlier in the week you had set up your arithmancy homework out in front of you at your favourite table in the library. It was your favourite table because it had a window view, but that window view was the least distracting window view in the whole library. It also was the perfect distance to a fireplace, meaning you could manage to stay warm in the stone castle during the cold Scottish winters. 

Unfortunately, it seemed, the table didn’t give you a good vantage point to alert you when one Regulus Arcturus Black made an appearance.

“Mind if I sit here?” A quiet voice startled you out of your calculations, causing you to overturn a pot of ink in front of you.

“Fucking Merlin and Morgana! I- oh, erm, uh, no I uhm, fuck.” You sputtered as you split your attention between the boy standing across from you and the pool of ink quickly making its way towards your skirt. 

With a non-descript flick of Regulus’ wand, the mess was gone – though the damage to your parchment was unsalvageable.

“Oh, uhm, thanks. Sorry I – erm, have a seat. Although, you might not be safe!” You tried to joke but your voice came out disturbingly high, and the (failed) ‘joke’ made you flush hot with shame.

“I’m usually way cooler than this.” You tried to argue, before you realized that someone way cooler definitely wouldn’t have just said that.

Regulus was either unbothered by your horrifying actions or chose to ignore them. He opened his textbooks and began taking notes like you weren’t even there, while you sat in the most awkward and uncomfortable silence of your entire life.

It wasn’t long before you decided you couldn’t take it anymore, standing abruptly – so abruptly, in fact, that you had to quickly save another pot of ink from spilling – and began hastily gathering your things. Regulus did look up at this, and his eyes on you seemed to cause another malfunction to your central nervous system.

“Well, I must be off. I have other homework to dump ink on.” You said, except you didn’t deliver the sentence as a joke and it sounded all too believable – paired with your actions today, and you were certain he believed that’s exactly what you were off to do.

“Toodaloo.” You called and ran from the library.

Toodaloo!?!?! Are you fucking serious!?!! TOODALOO. Oh gods.

You didn’t dare return to the library the following day.

The day after that, though? It was fair game.

You were once again sitting at your favourite table and had ensured you placed a sticking charm on the bottom of your ink pots to avoid any more unfortunate accidents, when the clearing of a throat interrupted your studies.

“Mind if I sit here?” Regulus asked quietly, motioning to the seat across from you.

He’s kidding, right? After what happened two days ago, he can’t possibly want to sit with you?

Nonsense, perhaps this is just his favourite table in the library too.

You were determined this time not to make a fool of yourself.

“Have you finished the rune translations for Professor Babbling, yet?” Regulus asked.

No, the world was definitely out to get you.

“I, erm, I’ve started it. I believe it references the magic practiced by the Egyptians during the Predynastic period. Quite interesting stuff, Ancient Egypt. Did you know that Egyptians believed the most significant thing you could do in your life was die?” 

You were talking a mile a minute. You knew this to be true due to the fact that your tongue was actually tripping over your words, but while your brain was shouting shut up shut up shut up shut up, your mouth just kept moving.

“Is that so?” Regulus asked, his eyes squinting ever so slightly as he scrutinized you.

“I don’t know actually.” You admitted, realizing you may have just lied to Regulus Black about Ancient Egypt. “I, I suppose I meant that they put way more emphasis on death than life.” You cringed again. “I don’t know if that’s true either – it’s just, it’s... it's the pyramids!” You shouted desperately, earning you a shush from the librarian. 

“The pyramids?” He asked incredulously, a smile playing on his lips.

He was making fun of you, surely.

“Yup. Pyramids.” You squeaked, turning your face back towards your textbook.

“And you got all of that from the runes translation?”

Your face burned in shame.

“Uhm, no. The runes said no such thing. I just…know things.”

“You know things?”

“Right like, uhm, oh apparently Shakespeare didn’t actually write any of the works attributed to his name. Did you know that? William Shakespeare’s parents were illiterate - which doesn’t necessarily mean much because, perhaps he became learned later in life, right? However, William Shakespeare’s own children were also illiterate. I mean, what famous playwright wouldn’t teach their children to read? It’s all bollocks.” 

You had to catch your breath at the end of your tangent.

“That’s a bold claim.” Regulus said plainly. 

Fucking hells, was it hot in here?

“Right, well, erm. I have to go.” You said as you gathered your things and rushed towards the door.

“Uhm, Y/N?” Regulus called.

“Yes?”

“Your wand?”

You looked back at the table and, sure enough, your wand sat forgotten in your place. 

“Right, thanks. Uhm, best of luck on the rune’s translation. Let me know if you need help and erm, uhm, I - bye!”

You stayed out of the library for two days after that.

Which brought you to today. You decided to try to save yourself the humiliation and Regulus the hassle of having to sit with you by finding a different table. You would leave your favourite table to Regulus if it meant saving yourself the embarrassment of uttering absolute nonsense to your schoolgirl crush.

What you had forgotten, however, was how the world was absolutely 100% without a doubt out to get you.

“Mind if I sit here?” Regulus asked quietly, causing you to look up so quickly and, not being used to this table and unaware of the fact that you were sitting under a light sconce, you smacked your head rather painfully in the action.

“Son of a fucking dugbog.” You spat miserably as you rubbed at the sore spot already producing a lump on your head.

“Why?” You all but screeched.

Regulus tilted his head at you as one of his eyebrows raised. “Why?”

“Yes, why.”

“Why what?”

“Oh for – why do you want to sit with me?!”

He looked close to smiling as he scrutinized your form. “Do you not want to sit with me?”

“Of course I want to sit with you!” You admitted embarrassingly - and loudly - earning you a shush from the librarian.

“So, I can sit here then?”

You groaned and let your head thump onto the table in front of you – at least now you’d have a matching lump on the front of your head too.

“At the risk of me making a total and utter fool of myself? Sure, be my guest.”

You swore you heard him chuckle under his breath as he pulled the chair out across from you. You didn’t dare lift your head, however. Perhaps if you couldn’t see his piercing silver gaze, or his adorable black curls, or his stupid smirk, then maybe you wouldn’t be forced to say something ridiculous. 

“What? No fun facts for me today?” Regulus – the arse – asked from across from you.

You raised your head slightly, though left your shoulders at table level as you levelled him with a glare.

“You’re doing this to me on purpose, aren’t you? What, you get off on me making a fool of myself?”

Regulus smirked, though something in his eyes turned a little soft as he spoke. “I don’t think you make a fool of yourself.”

You scoffed and let your head fall back to its previous spot with a thud. “You’re an arse and a liar, Regulus Black.”

“Okay, perhaps you’ve been a little foolish.” He conceded, causing you to groan into the woodgrain of the table. “But I’ve enjoyed every second of it.”

Your head snapped up at that, and even Regulus grimaced as he watched you just barely miss the light sconce behind you.

“You’ve…enjoyed me making a fool of myself?” You asked incredulously.

Regulus moved his head back and forth in a sort of ‘so-so’ gesture. “I’ve enjoyed getting to listen to you. Why do you think I’ve been asking to sit with you all week?”

Apparently, your table wasn’t Regulus’ favourite table. Or at least, that wasn’t what made it his favourite – it was the fact that you had been sitting there that had made it so.

And ever since then, whatever table you were sitting at in the library – one would likely find Regulus Black there too.

[wheretfismybrother]

girl girl hear me out YAPPER GF X REGULUS!! Pls pls pls like u could do anything u wanted with them!!! I have a few ideas (take any or none)

May be she just walks up to him one day like clearly wanting to befriend him cuz she has a lil crush and just starts yapping about how the great hall had her fave pastry for breakfast today and he's so confused but also intrigued and then she starts sitting next to him in classes and asking him to hang out at hogsmead and she just yaps and sometimes she thinks may be he zones out but then he'll bring up this super niche detail she mentioned last time like "hey what happened to that quill you forgot in the potions lecture?"

they r already dating and she worries she's too much energy and talk for him and tries to be quiet and he's just like r u sick? R u mad at me? What's wrong u haven't gone on a 30 min description/rant about ur day

3. May be someone else brings up she talks a lot and Reggie defends her?

you guys really love your bubbly/talkative readers with Regulus, don't you? (so do i); thanks for your request!

Regulus Black x yapper!reader who didn't think he was actually listening

CW: fem!reader, rolling thoughts, brief mention of difficulty making friends, people talking about reader behind her back, swear words (on ellecdc? nooo [sarcasm])

Your family said that you had an incessant need to fill silence from the moment you could talk. 

“If there’s a room with our daughter in it, you can be certain that it won’t be quiet.” Your mum had proclaimed as she beamed at you lovingly one day.

While it was certainly a trait that your family had always found rather endearing, you felt that it made it particularly difficult making friends once you began attending Hogwarts. 

But the friends you managed to make loved you for it, and they had often stated “you can call her what you want but you can’t call her boring.” 

That didn’t mean your other classmates appreciated your stories or tangents, though. 

Which is how you ended up serving numerous detentions for speaking during class or lectures and disturbing the students around you, and how you’d been cycled through numerous seat partners in potions class. 

And that is how poor Regulus Black ended up stuck sharing a worktable with the likes of you.

He didn’t seem to mind, though. And if he did, well, he certainly never said anything about it.

You were quite sure he tuned you out during your rambles, hardly ever sparing you a glance and keeping his eyes trained on his parchment in front of him as he took dutiful notes during lectures.

Couldn’t be you, however.

No.

You were too busy lamenting about the fact that you couldn’t get more than twenty feet to the mooncalf herd up the hill behind the quidditch pitch before they would all run off. They only came out at night, you see, and you wanted to take some photos of them. Some photos turned into midnight picnics, and picnics turned into sharing apple slices by means of throwing them towards the bug-eyed beasts and watching them argue over the slice until you threw another. But even after feeding them forty seven apples and counting at this point (Winky the house elf from the kitchen was not pleased with you), they still wouldn’t let you get any closer to them.

Your next course of action was to try a smellier and higher value treat; you wondered then if mooncalves could have tuna? Tuna was certainly smelly enough. Well, if you couldn’t entice the mooncalves, you’d certainly entice a cat or two. 

You wondered then if mooncalves and cats got along? Kneazles were nearly the same size as the poor beasts, but cats were much smaller. You figured cats would look at a mooncalf the same way they’d look at a goat. 

You’d seen a cat ride a goat once, not many people believed you, though. You’d have to learn how to make a pensieve one day just to prove it to everyone. You didn’t much care for goats, though; something about their square pupils seemed alien to you. 

Which seemed odd considering there were numerous beasts in the magical world that really were quite alien, yet it was  goats that did it for you.

And why were they always associated with the devil? Was it because of the square pupils? Do you think there’d be a book that explained that?

But you didn’t even realise that the period had ended until Regulus stood and collected his books, offering you a curt nod before leaving the classroom. 

Fuck….do you think he’d let you copy his notes? 

��⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆⁺₊⋆ ☀︎ ⋆⁺₊⋆

Merlin’s tits, she never stops talking! I feel bad for the poor sod stuck next to her; Black probably wants to avada himself every class. You heard a classmate mutter as you walked to your workbench, movements slowed as you lowered yourself into your chair and tried not to let their words hurt you. 

You were used to the comments, you were used to the sentiment honestly; did they think it was easy being you? Did they think you didn’t get tired of listening to yourself too? 

Of course you did, it was exhausting; your brain never stopped moving, and apparently, neither did your mouth.

But it did hurt a little, perhaps because Regulus had been quite gracious about it thus far. He had listened to you carry on about the astrological significance of space waste and how that was affecting the magic of the stars. He had listened to you bemoan about the positive impact that centaur migration had on local flora and fauna and how the fencing of fields and forests was going to cause unimaginable damage to the life cycles of such. He also had listened to your morose mooncalf story and the update the next day that you were able to order cans of tuna via owl to the castle.

And he’d not so much as bat an eye at you.

Certainly he’d have said something to you if you bothered him? 

Although, perhaps this was why Slughorn put him beside you, because he knew Regulus wouldn’t say anything; had Regulus done something to anger Slughorn? Was placing you beside Regulus less about you driving your seat mates crazy, but more about being a punishment for Regulus?

Well, you couldn’t imagine Regulus had done anything bad enough to deserve a full term with you as a potions partner.

No, you decided, you would not be his punishment.

So when Regulus entered class that day, and Slughorn read out the instructions for today’s potion brew, you resisted the urge to speak.

You were quiet when retrieving your potion ingredients, you were quiet as you checked and double checked the brewing instructions, and you were quiet as you waited for the potion to reach its boiling point. 

You actually thought you’d done quite well; you sort of wished you had started a timer, this may very well have been a record for you. 

Well, unless sleeping counted. Would sleeping count as being quiet? Oh gods, what if you talked in your sleep too!? You’d have to ask your roommates.

“L/N.” Regulus called as if it hadn’t been the first time he’d done so. “You alright?” He asked, ducking down in an attempt to meet your gaze as you watched a divot appear between his brows.

“Yeah? Why?” You asked, finding yourself furrowing your brows in solidarity; you found Regulus to be too pretty to look so worried. 

He shrugged his shoulders and straightened up, though the space between his brows remained divoted. “You’ve been awfully quiet, s’all.” He murmured quietly, and you were surprised to see a dusting of pink on his cheeks.

“Isn’t that a good thing?” You muttered perhaps pointedly; his eyes narrowing to match the furrowed brows. 

“Says who?”

Your eyes traitorously darted to the students who had been discussing your habits, and Regulus followed your gaze.

He rolled his eyes and muttered something in French under his breath as he turned his attention back towards your shared potion. “Those tossers are just mad that they have nothing of value to say.”

You more felt than heard a disbelieving breath escape your lips as you looked at Regulus in bemusement. 

He didn’t seem to notice though, as he continued to the next step in your potion and carried on. “Did the tuna work?”

You stared at him dumbly before your brain kicked back into gear. “I beg your pardon?”

“The tuna.” He repeated. “For the mooncalves?”

Oh.

“Oh.” You started, giving your head a shake as you tried to find your balance you had long lost during this conversation. “Erm, no, but I did indeed attract a few cats.”

“Ah.” Regulus offered, smiling at you (or at the expected poof from the potion signifying that the two of you had brewed it correctly thus far). 

“Also, I found out why goats are often associated with the devil, but the book you’d be looking for is Biblical in nature.”

You stared at him with your mouth agape as he continued. “There’s a quote where that Christ bloke mentions something about separating people from one another just as a shepherd separates the sheep from the goats. They’re used as a metaphor for the ‘bad’ or ‘inferior’ member of any group; it could also be understood as the divide between the pure and the wicked. I say goats got a bad rap, though.”

The next step in your potion brewing process was to allow the potion to simmer until it turned a milky white colour, so Regulus lowered the heat before appearing to remember something.

“I almost forgot…” He started as he began rooting through his book bag. “I asked the shopkeep at Brood & Peck, and she said this is a favourite of mooncalves; maybe you’ll have more luck tonight?” He asked as he held out a parchment of beast treats to you. 

“You’ve been listening? This whole time?” You whispered in awe as you took the bag delicately as if  he had just handed you a delicate china dish. 

His brows furrowed again as he searched your eyes. “Well…yeah? I’m rather invested now.” He explained just as your potion turned its intended colour. 

“Very good Mr. Black, Miss. L/N.” Professor Slughorn commented as he walked past your workbench. 

You were alerted to the fact that class was over when everyone’s potions were vanished with a pop and students started to pack up their belongings.

“You’ll keep me posted, yeah? About the mooncalves?” Regulus asked as he started walking backwards towards the door. 

“Sure.” You murmured, earning you a wide smile from the notoriously quiet boy. 

Yes… You’d be more than happy to keep Regulus Black posted.

[wheretfismybrother]

another seb screenshot redraw between work (credit to yukihon_d on twitter!)

[wheretfismybrother]

seb being an annoying bf as usual🐍💞 (continuation doodle on my poipiku and twitter!🌶️)

[wheretfismybrother]

A commission for @bloodxryder. I finally got to post it!!🙌Thank you again for commissioning me!! It was so fun to try this style and challenge myself💪Art is done in a style of Walking Dead cover art but with MC and Sebastian