please PLEASE learn how to tag your fanfics. Don’t tag fluff when it’s angst, don’t tag smut when it’s fluff and please don’t tag characters that ARENT EVEN MENTIONED IN THE FIC!!!!

you are in love || George Weasley

Title: you can hear it in the silence Pairing: George x Reader Summary: in the end it’s all of those little things that add up to it. All those little things that make her fall in love with him. A/N: she’s baaaaack! Hi everyone lovely to see you again! Im finally working a job that doesn’t drain my soul and leave me dead inside and i have time for the things that i love again. So here’s the first of many fics i hope to write for you all. Also this is based on you are in love by taylor swift. tagging some moots bc my tag list is old and crusty Okay bye <3 Tags: @darthwheezely​ @lycanlupins​ @wandsandwheezes​ @pineapplesandpinas​ @jenniweaslee​ @kpopgirlbtssvt​

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“I can’t believe I agreed to this,” Y/N grumbles to herself as she pauses outside of her favorite cafe, taking a moment to take a deep breath to try and calm her nerves.

Nerves that only exist because there’s a man waiting in there for her. A man who actually asked her out on a date. Who actually seemed interested in getting to know her. A man who has eyes that sparkle and a smile that actually made her weak in the knees. A man who wanted her.

It’s not that Y/N thinks she’s ugly or anything, in fact she’s pretty happy with her appearance after finally growing out of her awkward teen years. It’s just that her friends often use prickly as the word that best describes her, and a fair few dates have declined a second one due to her aloofness.

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my hot wife || George Weasley

Title: my hot wife Pairing: george x fem!reader, background fred x angelina Summary: George is the drunkest he’s been in a long time and finds the hottest woman he’s ever seen at the bar. Too bad she’s already married. And too bad he’s too drunk to remember that she’s married to him. A/N: just a cute little fluffy piece about george being too drunk to remember that the hot chick at the bar is his wife! This is a popular trope? Prompt? Whatever you wanna call it but george seems like a messy drunk and i thought this was a cute idea! Tags:  @feltondarling @pandaxnienke @raerae27​ @hufflrpuffforfred @wand3ringr0s3 @loveboyhalo​ @theweasleysredhair @dracoswhore007 @amourtentiaa​ @lexymoniqu @p0tat0nug @levylovegood @spacexcowgirl @mischiefisbeingmanaged @littleweaslette @inglourious-imagines​ @darthwheezely @rosaliepostsstuff @hufflepuff-babe​ @frecklesandfirecrackers  @prismarts @thisismysketchbook​ @barneswidow @freds-slut @lupinsclassroom @lumos-barnes​ @weelittleweasley @parseltongueswriting @izzyyy-1​ @gwhogwartslover  @rqmanoff @amarabln @omghufflepuff@jorduhnn @edithreads @hpslutt (If your name is crossed out I couldn’t tag you!)

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“Holy shit,” George slurs as he slams the shot glass back down on the bar, wincing from the burn of the tequila slithering down his throat. Even though his body is reacting to the alcohol his mind is too far gone to register it, already feeling floaty and serene from the other drinks he’s already consumed this evening. He lets his eyes wander around the bar as Fred orders them another round of shots, and his jaw drops as he spots the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen.

Her head is tilted back in a laugh, and George would give anything to be able to hear what it sounds like as it falls from her mouth. And Godric her mouth. His eyes are drawn to the curve of her lips and he can’t help but think about what it would feel like to kiss her. This mystery woman is perfection personified, and George would give his entire life’s savings to bask in her glory for even one moment.

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Summer Heat and Moonlit Kisses - Fred Weasley

Title: Summer Heat and Moonlit Kisses Pairing: Fred x Fem!Reader Summary: Fred and Y/N have been dancing around their feelings for each other since their friendship began, both of them too afraid to admit how they truly feel. But can a summer at the burrow change all that? A/N: for the anon who wanted some fluff at the burrow, with Fred and the reader confessing their feelings for each other! In case it isn’t obvious this takes place between Fred and George’s 6th and 7th year! Feedback is always welcome, and requests are open!

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Smack!

All of the Weasley’s sitting at the breakfast table flinch, and Fred turns around just in time to see Errol sliding down the kitchen window, a few letters clutched in his beak. Everyone else gets back to their conversations, and before Molly can tell one of the kids to grab the post, Fred is jumping out of his chair.

“I’ll get it!” he announces, bounding over to the window. He throws the window open, reaching down to pick up Errol before setting him on the ledge and taking the mail from his beak. Fred’s fingers shuffle through the few envelopes quickly, pausing when he sees one addressed to him in familiar loopy letters. He tucks the letter into the back pocket of his jeans as he places the rest of the mail in his mother’s outstretched hand.

Everyone else is too preoccupied eating or talking to notice Fred’s excitement over the mail, except for George of course.

“What’s got you so smiley, Freddie?” he teases as Fred sits back down in his chair.

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cant take my eyes off of you (g.w.)

prompt: george feels like he’s on top of the world when he’s with you and he needs to let you know how he feels. 

pairing: george weasley x fem! gryffindor reader

warnings: underage drinking, intoxication, dirty dancing, sexual references (blink and you’ll miss it), language

word count: 2.7k

taglist: @rosaliepostsstuff @harrysweasleys @gcdricreads @lumos-barnes @whizboingies @lumosandnoxwriting @pxroxide-prinxcesss @c-t-h @lol-idk-oops @another-lonely-heart-blog @kaseyrose96-blog @hufflepuff5972 @gryffindcrghost @wand3ringr0s3 @parseltongueswriting @shilohpug @peachypotter @spacexcowgirl @paintballkid711 @vogueweasley​

It wouldn’t be a common room victory celebration without a surplus of various booze, music loud enough to shatter your ear drum, and random students scattered around dancing and screaming to the music. It was a sensory overload at its finest, but you wouldn’t want it any other way. The quidditch victory was well earned against Hufflepuff and the team wanted to celebrate properly. This ultimately translated to getting absolutely hammered before 10pm. 

You stood in the corner of the room, standing next to Hermione and Ginny, sipping on whatever drink Lee had poured you. To be honest, you couldn’t make out what it was; it was a cocktail of miscellaneous liquors that would be sure to have you regretting this decision in the morning.

As you sipped on your beverage, you turned to your two friends and gave them a sneaky smile as the music gets turned up even louder. “Oh, no,” Hermione started. “Don’t give me that look.”

“What? I just want to dance,” you start to back up towards the dance floor, pulling Ginny along with you as she laughs. “Come on, Granger! Loosen up!” 

You and Ginny immediately start to break out into dance, swinging your hips to the music as Ginny chugs the rest of the drink in her cup, you following suit. The liquor is sweet, but burns your throat and warms your chest. When you finish it, you throw your cup to the ground and give into the pulsating base. Ginny laughs as you throw your hands in the air and scream sing the lyrics to the song. It was nice to finally loosen up after a long week.

But you halt your dancing when you feel two arms wrap around your waist, lip attaching themselves to your neck. You immediately flip around to see your George staring back at you, a drunk smile on his lips as a low chuckle fall from his mouth. “You scared me,” you place a hand on your chest before leaning into him, his arms pulling close against his chest.

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yule ball, fred x reader, george x reader

warnings: n/a bc i am all fluff

Freddie

“Oi, I can’t take this bloody assignment anymore,” Fred groaned. He continued to run his hands through his long, red hair and then let his head drop on top of his parchment.

You giggled slightly. You tried to brush his hair to the side, but it kept falling into his eyes. “C’mon, Freddie, we’ve got to finish this! I know that you love Charms, so let’s finish this quickly—you sort of can’t afford not to hand this in, you know.”

He turned his head to face you. His eyes were tired and bloodshot, but he smirked slightly. The bustling in the great hall was really making it difficult to work. You wanted to curl up by the common room fire with a good book and a cup of tea, but this lingering assignment wouldn’t write itself.

“I know you’re right,” Fred told you, “But I feel that since we’re hosting the Triwizard Tournament this year, all the professors’ focus should be on that, and not on homework.”

You laughed again. “D’you reckon?” Fred sat up now, but didn’t continue to write. Instead, he waited. “Well, if we don’t finish this assignment, then you may miss out on the rest of the tournament and the other events. So great cracking, now,”

“What other events?” Fred asked you. Around you both, students were chatting animatedly about the upcoming Yule Ball, Christmas holidays, more Hogsmeade visits, fun, wintry Quidditch matches on the pitch with friends. You turned back towards Fred and cocked your neck. “Oh, those events.”

You looked back down at your parchment and smiled. The summoning charm was infiltrating your mind, and you wrote slowly in your cursive on the parchment, carefully making sure that the ink did not bleed.

“So what’re you doing for the Yule Ball, by the way?” Fred asked suddenly. He hadn’t even looked back at his roll of parchment yet. His eyes were sparkling.

You shot him a quizzical look and smiled. “Erm, I dunno, exactly—hadn’t really thought about it. Have you?”

Fred thought for a moment. He looked up at the ceiling and clicked his tongue. His flirting really was horrible, but it was also kind of cute, too. His eyes met yours once again, and he moved a piece of hair behind your ear. “How about we go together?”

“To the ball?”

“To the ball. You know, an honest to goodness date.”

“You want to take me to the Yule Ball, on a date?” You couldn’t really hold back your surprise. Sure, you and Fred had always been friends, good friends, in fact. But dates? That’s not something that ever crossed your mind.

“Of course I do,” he retorted. “I think we’d look rather nice together, don’t you reckon? Besides, you know you can hardly resist my good looks and my dance moves.”

He raised his eyebrows at you and smirked. You let a few seconds pass, and the silence between you both didn’t seem to bother him—probably because he knew you’d say yes. His confidence washed over you and made you kind of nervous, but the good kind—the butterflies in the stomach kind. “Okay, Freddie, let’s go to the Yule Ball then.”

His grin widened and a few people next to the both of you overheard, and snickered a little. Suddenly, a few light snacks appeared in front of you both, and he popped some into his mouth. Fred turned back to his parchment and began to scribble very fiercely, as though his assignment was due in five minutes. Once more, he looked back at you, winked, and said, “Brilliant. Can’t wait for it, darling.”

Georgie

The inside of Scrivenshaft’s Quill Shop was warm and cozy. It felt so nice to be out of the snow. Christmas was around the corner, and you wanted to treat yourself to some new quills and bottles of ink. Truthfully, you didn’t really need it, but the smell of new ink and the scratchiness of the quills and nibs on parchment was always something that you loved, ever since you were little.

You completed your purchase, pulled your scarf closer to you and walked outside into the cold once again. The long trek back to Hogwarts didn’t seem very inviting, but filling out Christmas cards in the Hufflepuff common room next to the fire did. Suddenly, someone appeared next to you. “Got enough quills, then?”

You smiled. “I can never have enough quills.”

“You’d walk all the way to Scrivenshaft’s in a snow storm for some?”

You turned to look at George. He was grinning at you, and there were snowflakes melting on his eyelashes. “Yeah, I would.” You pulled your gloves closer to your wrists. “But it is sort of cold...and the snow is nearly up to my knees...and I’m kind of regretting that decision.”

Your eyes locked and at the same time, you both asked, “Butterbeer in The Three Broomsticks?”

The two of you nearly sprinted into the pub, anxious to escape the frigid cold. You were seated almost immediately, even though the pub was absolutely jam-packed. The warm butterbeer melted in your mouth and warmed nearly your entire body in just a few seconds. Next to you, George was trying to cool his off—the tips of his ears were red and his red hair was askew from his hat.

“I can’t believe Christmas is next week,” he told you and sipped. “This year is going by rather swiftly.”

You took another swig of your butterbeer. “I know,” you said breathlessly. “Before you know it, we’ll be graduating! Your and Fred’s inventions will be famous in the wizarding world, and you’ll both forget about little old me.” You fell back in your seat rather dramatically and laughed. George laughed too, but nervously.

“We could never forget you,” he said. You could tell he was on the verge of saying something, but he just wouldn’t. His hands were wrapped loosely around his butterbeer and you could feel the thump of his foot tapping against the floor.

You tried to get him to talk. It was cute, seeing him like this, but also rather odd. George was never at a loss for words. “So what did you come out here for, in the middle of a snowstorm?”

“Oh, erm—new dress robes, actually,” he said, and it almost sounded like he was questioning himself a little. “You know those bloody awful ones my mum sent Ron? I would not be caught dead in them,”

He grinned at you. Something was up. You tapped your fingers slowly on the wooden table. “So you came all the way to Hogsmeade, in a snowstorm, just to get some new dress robes?”

And he knew that you knew that something was going on. He smirked and looked down at his butterbeer. “Alright, Y/N. Maybe I came to ask you something, as well.” You cocked your head to the side and peered at him, waiting for him to speak. “Would you want to go with me? You know, to the Yule Ball. It doesn’t have to be a date, you know—we could go as friends.”

“Do you want to go as friends?” You asked him. You hoped he said no. You’d always wanted to be more than just friends. You bit your bottom lip and waited.

George cleared his throat. “I mean, of course, that’s fine…” his voice drifted off, but picked back up again, then, as his eyes met yours. “But, I wouldn’t mind if we went as something more.”

As he got the words out, his nervousness washed away, and you could see his shoulders settle into relaxation. You placed your hand over his. It was still cold. He smiled at you as you said, “I wouldn’t mind if we went as something more, either.”

It was almost as if you flicked a switch, because George was back to his normal self almost immediately. There were no longer any signs of apprehensiveness or nerves. That sarcastic smirk appeared across his face and it drove you mad. But the softer, more gentle side of George—it was something he always let you see. “I had this big, grand gesture planned, you know.”

“Yeah, but this was much more you,” you told him. He beamed at you and slowly leaned in. It was as if he were taking his time, so as not to frighten you. His eyes met yours, and then washed over your face, your lips, your entire body. You took him by surprise when you grabbed the collar of his coat and kissed him. It was slow and easy, and when you both pulled away, he raised his eyebrows and laughed. That kiss was years in the making. You told him, “Sorry, Georgie. I just couldn’t wait.”

just friends

“Quick! Hide me!”

George Weasley normally doesn’t mind the fame, if you will, that comes with being part of the most well-known duo Hogwarts has ever seen.

In fact, he welcomes the attention. Maybe not as much as Fred, but he welcomes it, nonetheless.

That is, until a boisterous Ravenclaw is doing everything in her power to grab his attention. How many times can he possibly tell her, in the nicest way possible, that he doesn’t fancy her?

Maybe being nice, Fred explains to him, isn’t the way to go. He doesn’t need to be rude, but he needs to be aggressive—or, blatantly obvious in a way that she won’t be able to ignore. Why can he not seem to shake this girl? She’s undeniably obsessed, Ron laughs one day, as George does his best to push his headache away, his eyes tired from constantly looking over his shoulder to make sure that feisty Ravenclaw is nowhere to be found. He was finding it harder than usual to concentrate in classes—and not in a good way.

George is used to the teasing by now—from his brothers, from Ginny, from Harry, from you—the friendly, fellow Gryffindor prankster—giving Fred and George a run for their money.

He ducks closer to you when he spots her peering, and you nearly choke on your soup during the feast, as the Ravenclaw twirls her hair, watching George with what can only be described as googly eyes.

“Oh dear,” you begin sarcastically, elbowing George next to you, “someone’s in rare form tonight.”

“Ha-ha,” he replies sarcastically as he shifts in his seat uncomfortably, doing his best to block her out by adjusting himself so that Ron’s head covers her face. She notices this, and schooches over in her seat, until George is in her line of view again.

“Merlin’s beard,” he says through gritted teeth, looking down at his food, “I laugh at one of her jokes one time and she can’t seem to let it go.”

“These girls are crazy,” Ron says as he sips on his pumpkin juice, only to receive death glares from you, Hermione, and Ginny. “I—I mean, just that girl—not all women—” he uncomfortably clears his throat and smiles, the tips of his ears turning a bright shade of scarlet.

“Have you tried landing yourself in detention more often than not?” Seamus Finnegan pipes up, “in me own experiences, girls don’t fancy a lad who’s always getting scolded,”

George shakes his head. “The more outrageous the prank, the more brutal the scolding, the more obsessed she becomes,” he tells you all begrudgingly, “I can’t bloody take it anymore.”

As the feast ends, George’s admirer stands up, eyeing him curiously, ready to make her move, yet again—but he finds himself scurrying out of the Great Hall as fast as possible—he’s flying up the staircase and it doesn’t even register with him that he’s not breathing until he enters the common room and lets out a huge sigh of relief. Only narrowly escaped that Ravenclaw, he did. He’s resting in an armchair as the rest of you wander inside a few minutes later, laughing at the flustered sight of him.

George doesn’t know what he’s going to do to get this girl off of his back. It seems as though he’s tried everything.

Unless?

A solution pops into his head very late at night whilst laying in bed, staring up at the curtains of his four poster in the darkness. He jumps up, checks his watch, and groans when he sees the time. In the bed next to his, Fred is sprawled out over his bedsheets, snoring quite loudly as if to say, I’m having a lovely sleep, thank you! George sucks in a breath and lays back down—his mind now swimming with ideas, his smile cheeky, his eyes widened. If this doesn’t give her the hint that he’s not interested, he doesn’t know what will.

It’ll just have to wait until morning, he supposes.

— -

“Y/N!”

You jump a little, not expecting to hear your name yelled across the Great Hall so very early in the morning. George spots you from the entrance, and after making sure there are no other unwanted guests around, he calls out to you and rushes toward the table.

“Hi, George,” you begin, smirking a bit, “you’re up early for someone who has a free period.”

“Needed to catch you before your Herbology lesson,” he places himself across from you and pours himself a bit of coffee—it’s aware to you now that he still needs a little bit of a pick me up. “I need your help.”

“Ah,” you reply and clap your hands together. “The time was quickly approaching—I’m in need of a good prank, you know! It’s been a bit since I’ve gotten involved in a bit of mischief, classes have been so bloody draining lately—so what were you thinking?”

George laughs at this. He does admire your sense of adventure and your equal love of pranking, but no. That isn’t what this is about. He sucks in a breath as he shakes his head, eyeing your curious look before opening his mouth again.

“I think I’ve figured out a way to get… you know who,” he eyes the Ravenclaw table suspiciously, “off of my back.”

You gasp audibly, bringing a hand to cover your mouth as your eyes widen. “Blimey, Georgie—you know who? Why didn’t you tell me that Volde—”

George nearly spits out his coffee due to a snort. Thank goodness he doesn’t. “Ha-ha, anyone ever tell you you’re absolutely hilarious?” He sinks into his seat and rubs his hands over his eyes, as if to brush away tears from laughing too hard. He then continues, after a bit of a laughing fit, “She just needs a push in a different direction, is all.”

You furrow your brow in confusion and bite into a piece of bacon. “And you need my help for that?”

“Precisely,” George tells you, scooping some eggs onto his plate. “Just hear me out.”

“That’s not a great way to start things out, you know.”

He scoffs and then grins cheekily at you. Then, he says, “You need to pretend to go out with me.”

You nearly choke on your piece of toast. “I beg your pardon?” you ask, completely stunned by his request. As you begin to laugh, George feels his insides tighten, and he wants to say, What the bloody hell is the big deal? but instead, he waits, and ends up laughing too.

“Oh, George,” you say after regaining your composure, spreading some more butter onto your toast, “you’re a riot, you are.”

When he doesn’t answer, but instead licks his lips impatiently and takes another sip of coffee and peers at you, as if waiting for your answer, you freeze.

“You’re serious, aren’t you?”

“You’re bloody right I am.”

“So you want me to pretend to be your girlfriend so she’ll end up stalking me too?”

The two of you erupt into a fit of laughter. Then he peers solemnly at you with wide eyes, as if to beg. “Pleaaaase, Y/N?”

You eye him suspiciously. “What’s in it for me?”

He scoffs again. “Extra time spent with me,” a loud crunch comes from his mouth when he bites into his piece of toast, and he winks. “I know you can’t get enough.”

You snort. “Don’t flatter yourself, Weasley.”

He picks up his cup of coffee, holds it up across the table to you and asks before you have time to think things through, “We have a deal?”

You roll your eyes at this gesture, but he’s patiently waiting for you to agree. What will this mean, exactly—pretending to date one another? You’re about to ask him, but it’s almost as if you know—it won’t last long. Soon she’ll get the hint, and the shenanigans can end. You go against your better judgement, acting on the very fearlessness that landed you in Gryffindor house to begin with, pick up your cup of tea and clink it with his. Feeling very pleased with himself, he leans back in his chair and grins cheekily, wiggling his eyebrows at you. You narrow your eyes and say, “Fine—but only because you’ve asked so nicely.”

Just then, you both notice a giggling gaggle of Ravenclaws enter the Great Hall, and George is already feeling his insides begin to swirl nervously. He’s doing things before he can even fully register what’s going on—

He leans across the table and takes a chunk out of the piece of bacon you’re currently also biting into, his face just inches from yours. You nearly choke on it due to surprise of how close he is to you, and he can’t help but begin to laugh, yet again. Always laughing with you, he is. “Erm—excuse me! Eat your own breakfast, you git!”

Just then, you notice her eyes flicker back and forth very quickly between the two of you, before she slowly passes you both by on her way to the Ravenclaw table, careful to listen to whatever the two of you are speaking about.

George can hardly contain his nerves, but figures he might as well get started on this fake dating thing. The sooner she leaves him alone, the better off he’ll be, “Love it when you talk sweetly to me, darling.”

— -

“You two’re out of your bloody mind.”

Fred does not hold back his laughter later that evening when George divulges your plans. The unmistakable sound of Ron snorting bounces off of the walls in the common room, and he turns red in the face.

“You two? You two?”

“What?” you and George chorus together. George continues explaining to the younger redhead across from him, “It’s perfect—we’re best mates already, and we’re all in a bunch of the same classes together—maybe this will finally give her the hint,”

“It’s not going to work.” Ron replies, looking rather amused. He shoots you a look.

“Well, can’t make any promises, of course,” you tell the lot, “but I reckon we put in the work, it’s bound to fix the problem eventually.”

Ron, Harry and Fred continue to roar with laughter in the common room. “She will never fall for that!”

“Why not?” George asks a bit angrily. He’s nervous now—if this plan doesn’t work, he doesn’t know what the bloody hell he’s going to do. Transfer to a school on the moon, at this point.

“Because,” Ron starts, holding back a snort, “Y/N’s Y/N and you’re—you.”

You and George glance at one another, and then back at Ron. The common room is now buzzing with chatter and gossip and it’s becoming hard for everyone to focus on the conversation. “Meaning?”

“I dunno,” Harry pipes up. “You guys just don’t really look like you’d be a couple.”

“Exactly,” Fred agrees, “you’re too—close. Friendly. You’re just.. friends,” he leans back casually in his chair with his hands behind his head, “it wouldn’t work. But, by all means—” he puts his hands up in surrender, chuckling before he continues, “—go for it and embarrass yourselves. I’m in a good need of a laugh.”

— -

Charms is, by far, George’s favorite class at Hogwarts. If he could take that and only that, he reckons he would. But with Little Miss Obsessed on the other end of the corridor, watching him as if her life depends on it, he can’t help but count down the seconds until the lesson is over—or, at least, the seconds until you get here.

You walk up next to him, finally, with Fred on his other side. “Morning, you two,” you tell them through a yawn. Your few cups of tea haven’t seemed to help your exhaustion from the night before—multiple games of exploding snap and copious amounts of butterbeer until the late hours of the evening did not do you good. You lean against the wall and close your eyes. “Are we awake yet?”

“Morning, Y/N!” Fred says brightly, patting you on the shoulder, waiting for Professor Flitwick to arrive and open the door to the classroom.

“Merlin, Fred, it is far too early to be this bloody excited about anything.”

Next to you, George laughs sleepily and nudges you with his elbow.

“Oh,” Fred replies. You can hear the smirk and mischief in his voice, even with your eyes half closed, “I just thought you’d be more excited to see your boyfriend this morning.”

This certainly wakes you up. You jump slightly and peer at George, who’s rather alert now, as well. You’d almost forgotten. Nearing closer to the classroom entrance, you eye the Ravenclaw, who’s watching you both very suspiciously and whispering to her cronies around her. Before any of you can register what’s happening, you lean over and place a kiss onto George’s cheek.

Fred stifles a laugh, Flitwick is opening the classroom door, the Ravenclaw is fuming, but all George can focus on is what just happened. Through gritted teeth and a very cheeky smile he’s trying his hardest to suppress, he asks you, “What the bloody hell was that?”

“Just abiding by the rules of your request,” you whisper back, grinning at him. “If she’s going to think we’re a couple, we better act like it, haven’t we?”

George hadn’t really thought about this—embracing you, kissing you, holding your hand. If he was being honest, he didn’t think about it because everyone had already mistakenly taken you two for a couple just a few months prior, when all you two had been doing is exactly what you’d done all along—be friends. He kind of just assumed the same thing would happen.

“Right,” he says, the heat of the fleeting moment dying down. “Yeah, of course.”

The three of you waltz into the classroom and take your seats near the middle, with the Ravenclaw sitting a few rows ahead, trying her hardest to peer stealthily over her shoulder at the two of you. It seems as though she’s definitely noticed something.

Flitwick begins the lesson and you lazily lean your head against George’s shoulder, sticking the back end of your quill in your mouth and listening as Flitwick tells you the desired page to turn to in your textbooks. Teasingly, George asks, “What am I—your pillow now?”

You turn to peer up at him. In a low voice you tell him, “If I’m going to be your fake girlfriend, you’re going to let me lean on you when I’m sleepy. Deal?”

You turn your focus back toward the front of the class and George can’t help but smile at you, shaking his head in admiration. He slings an arm around you and props himself into a more comfortable position.

“Okay, then. Deal.”

— -

George is now finding it incredibly easy to pretend to be your “boyfriend”. The hand holding, constant embracing, and laughing into oblivion seems to come naturally—it doesn’t even feel strange to him, and he’s amused to see that you’re taking it the same way. Probably because you got on so well with one another before all of these shenanigans started. Right?

While his admirer’s persistence has seemed to die down a bit, she still winds up watching and cornering him in corridors from time to time—but it’s easier with you arm in arm with him. She doesn’t linger too long, or continue to flirt obnoxiously with him. It seems as though your plan is working. Now, if only she can find a significant other of her own to pay attention too—

You’re sitting in Transfiguration, working on the bird conjuring charm you’d been dying to perfect in your free time whilst McGonagall steps outside for a moment to meet with Professor Sprout, and you’re doing your best to ignore the glares from the other end of the classroom.

“How d’you reckon the plan is working out?” Fred asks you both.

“Well, she’s certainly not as persistent,” George tells his twin in a low voice, eyeing the Ravenclaw stealthily across the classroom, “but I’m not sure she’s entirely convinced.”

You break your focus on the charm and turn toward the twins. “Reckon she will soon.”

“Yeah?” they chorus together.

“Yeah,” you reply, picking up your wand, not giving them any further information.

Fred crosses his arms and looks at you quizzically. When you neglect to continue, he asks with a twinge of sarcasm to his voice, “And how, may I ask, do you know this?”

You stifle a laugh and practice your flourishing movements without conjuring the charm. “—‘cause.. she’s just got to, hasn’t she? I’m telling you—we keep this up for a bit longer, and she’ll forget all about you. Mark my words.”

“I hope you’re right.”

“Avis,”

A puff of smoke emits from your wand, along with a loud blasting sound, and then a flock of birds twitters in front of you and you stand up straighter in front of your desk, feeling extremely pleased with yourself.

“Bloody hell,” Fred and George say together, peering admiringly at the flock of birds you’d managed to conjure. George continues, “That is N.E.W.T Level stuff you’re doing, Y/N!” He picks you up and spins you around, your hair flying into your eyes. You’re weightless to him. When he places you back down gingerly on your feet, he brushes the hair gently out of your face and says, “You’re brilliant, you are.”

Breathlessly, you answer him, “Thanks,”

His hand is still in your hair, his fingers delicately brushing your cheek. George can suddenly feel his insides tighten and his face go rosy—but why?

The entire world seems to stop around you both. It’s as if nobody else exists.

Thankfully, though, when both of you snap back to reality at the sound of McGonagall re-entering the classroom, you both see that nobody else has seemed to notice your small intimate moment.

You pull nervously at the edges of your sleeves and take your seat again next to George, who is running a hand through his hair. When he turns to look at Fred, who must’ve noticed this small exchange, George is relieved to see that there’s no cocky or amused expression on his face—he’s merely pouting due to the continuation of the Transfiguration lesson.

— -

The weather is surprisingly warm for a winter day. George is seated up against a tree near the water’s edge, fiddling with something in his hands—an invention, no doubt—when you plop down next to him with a slight groan.

“Long day?”

“Why in the hell did I decide to take Double Herbology?” you whine, letting your bag sink into the ground next to you. You place your head into your hands, grinding your knuckles into your temples to rid yourself of your headache. You elbow him slightly, “How come you didn’t stop me?”

George laughs, looking back down at this knick knack in his hands yet again. “You were pretty adamant about taking doubles,” he recalls, thinking back to when you’d originally picked these few classes, “don’t you remember?”

“Yeah, well,” you begin, breathing in the smell of the sweet air, picking at the grass in between your fingers, “I suppose it was sort of a silly decision, wasn’t it? I’m bloody exhausted.”

Up near the castle, Ron spots you two and is about to run down to join you both, when Fred tugs on his robes and holds him back, nearly choking him. “Oi!” he exclaims, turning back toward his older brother. “What the bloody hell was that for?”

“Before we all head down there to join the lovebirds,” Fred begins, grinning cheekily at Ron, Harry, Hermione, and Ginny, “I’d like to pick your brains.”

“About what?” Ginny and Hermione ask together.

“Well, precisely what I’ve just said,” Fred tells them, leaning against the entrance of the castle, his bag slung over his shoulder. “The lovebirds.”

Ron and Harry glance at Fred quizzically. “What about them?”

“I’m starting to believe this whole fake dating nonsense isn’t really fake at all.”

Harry laughs at the site of Ron’s agape mouth, when Ginny just shakes her head at her older brother. “You’re off your rocker, Fred. No way they’re really together. They would’ve told us, no?”

Fred crosses his arms. “I’m not so sure of that.”

Harry asks him, “How d’you reckon?”

“I was watching them in Transfiguration the other day,” Fred begins to tell them, watching to make sure the two of you are still out of earshot. “We were all chatting whilst McGonagall needed to step out, Y/N was doing some really advanced type of magic—N.E.W.T Level,”

Still, Ron’s jaw is dropped. He’s seemingly impressed. “Blimey—really?”

“Not the point of the story, Ronniekins.”

Ron turns a bright shade of pink and goes very silent at everyone’s slight snickers. Fred continues, “Anyway—we were all talking about how this plan of theirs was unfolding—to be honest with you, I haven’t seen much of that Ravenclaw around, but George swears she’s still pining over him. So, Y/N does this really advanced charm and George nearly topples over, picks her up and spins her around—you know,” he turns toward his brother and sister, “like those scenes in those silly Muggle movies mum watches. Then, everything went really quiet between the two of them, and they were just—looking at one another, for a really long time.”

Hermione asks, “Like how, exactly?”

Fred thinks on this for a moment. Then he replies, running a hand through his hair, “Like they’re in love.”

Ginny narrows her eyes. “So? Doesn’t mean they’re actually in love. I mean.. they are supposed to be acting like a couple—that’s the point of all of this.”

“So,” Fred says, ignoring everything else Ginny has just mentioned, “I’ve got a plan.”

Ginny turns toward Hermione, “Never a good sign.”

Fred nudges his sister playfully through bits of hearty laughter from the group. “I think we should slip them both a love potion—see if anything changes—if it does, we know they truly are faking. I’ve got the antidote all ready to go.”

“A love potion?” Harry asks.

“Those pink bottles you’ve got all over your room at home?” Ron adds.

“Yes,” Fred says brightly. “Admittedly—it’ll probably be one of our most popular inventions in due time. But Merlin, they are dangerous—you know, when it comes to love, and all that.”

After nearly everyone agrees, Fred begins to put his plan into action—when it will happen, the time of day, just exactly how they’re going to pull it off—when Hermione decides to interject her opinion.

“Nothing’s going to change, you know.”

Ron nearly drops his bag onto the ground. “D’you know something we don’t?”

Hermione laughs. “No, of course not, but—well, it’s obvious, isn’t it?” But clearly, it isn’t quite as obvious as it should be. “They’re already in love!”

Before Ron, Ginny, and Harry can interject their thoughts and objections, Fred turns toward her and says, “Cheers, Hermione.”

“You agree, do you?”

“I do,” Fred replies, now focusing his attention on the two of you down by the lake. It seems to him, he realizes, that while your love may be obvious to some, it’s the two of you that are completely oblivious. He watches as you sink back into George’s chest, his arm slung around your shoulder as you both continue to laugh animatedly about something. Fred points and says, ”Just look at them, would you! D’you see the Ravenclaw anywhere near here? No.”

“Fred,” Harry begins, “if you think they’re faking, then why in the bloody hell d’you want to waste a love potion on them?”

Fred just smiles evilly. “So it’ll be easier to get them to just admit it already.”

— -

“Okay then—enough homework for one evening, I’m absolutely knackered,” you tell the twins, folding up the parchment of your Potions essay and slipping it carefully into your bag, “you two coming back to the common room?”

“Yeah, in a bit,” Fred says, a look of absolute disgust on his face as he flips through his spell book, “this assignment is a right pain in the—”

He stops himself when he notices Madam Pince in the corner, eyeing him suspiciously. You ask them both, “You sure you don’t need any help?”

“Nah, that’s alright, I know you’re exhausted,” George tells you, appreciative of all the help you’ve given them already. “You go on.. we’ll meet you before you head off to bed.”

“Alright,” you reply sweetly, leaning in to place a featherlight kiss to his cheek. His hair at the nape of his neck feels so soft beneath your fingertips, “See you later.”

The Ravenclaw at the next table, Fred notices, isn’t quite as angry at this exchange as she would have been a few weeks ago. Has everything truly been working in their favor?

But George hardly notices—he just looks back down at his bit of parchment and continues to work on his conclusion, trying very, very hard, in Fred’s opinion, to suppress a grin. It’s rather noticeable alongside the cherry red color of his cheeks.

Only a few minutes pass by of silence between the twins before Madam Pince is hurrying everyone out of the library. The group of Ravenclaws make their way, albeit slightly reluctantly, to the opposite end of the castle toward their common room. George has never been so happy to be heading up to bed.

“Oi, Georgie,” Fred begins as they trudge through the corridors, “how long d’you reckon this thing between you and Y/N is going to last?”

“Dunno,” George tells his twin truthfully through a yawn. His four poster is so close, just a few more corridors to get through… “Until that Ravenclaw stops showing up everywhere I go, I suppose.”

Fred snorts at this comment. “Well, you can’t help class, mate.”

“Yeah, but, I mean everywhere else.”

Fred tugs on his brother’s robes and gets him to stop right before the entrance to the common room.

“C’mon, just be straight with me,”

George just glances at him with a confused look.

“About Y/N,” Fred prods.

“What about her?”

“You may be fooling everyone else, but you’re not fooling me.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Fred’s feeling slightly annoyed at his brother’s obvious denial now. “I know how you feel about her, Georgie. I see the way you look at her. Why don’t you both just come out and say it so you can be together for real?”

George actually has to place his bag on the ground. He rolls his eyes—somehow, he knew this was coming. “What the bloody hell are you on about? We’re just friends, like you said—this is purely strategic.” George turns around, picks up his bag, and is about to say the password to enter the common room, but—

“Strategic,” Fred echoes his twin. “Right. So I guess I can go along with my plan, then, slip you both love potions, make sure there’s definitely a change in your feelings toward one another so we know you are truly faking—”

This certainly grabs George’s attention. He can feel his heart thundering in his chest. He turns back toward his twin with narrowed eyes and asks, “What plan?”

“Oh, sorry—forgot to mention,” Fred jokes, careful not to wake any sleeping portraits, “I told the rest of the lot that I’ll be conducting a.. bit of an experiment, if you will—for research, you know. Don’t worry—got the antidote ready to go for when you both, of course, fall madly in love—”

“Fred,” George says through gritted teeth, but lets out a laugh, as well, “I’m not taking a love potion. First of all, those are prototypes for the store, remember? Reckon I’d need to be barking mad in order to take one of those anyway—we know full well how powerful they are.”

Fred’s been ready for George to argue about this. “But I told you, I’ve got the antidote—” Fred’s grinning cheekily at his twin now, he doesn’t even mind getting cut off completely.

“The answer’s no, Fred. You’re out of your bloody mind.”

“What are you so afraid of mate?” Fred laughs and punches George in the arm. “Are you scared that your feelings are going to change?”

George doesn’t want to answer this. He quickly runs a hand through his hair and suddenly seems a bit on edge. He absolutely hates getting cornered like this—he can’t shake the feeling that there’s something sharp lodged in his throat. He opens his mouth to argue, but once again, Fred takes him by surprise.

“Or, I wonder—are you afraid of them not changing at all?”

— -

George hasn’t slept in days. Weeks, maybe. No, that’s being too dramatic—maybe three days, tops. But to him, it certainly feels like a much longer time.

He drags himself, quite reluctantly, toward the dungeons. He’s looking forward even less to the Potions lesson in front of him. He can barely pay attention on a normal day—now, when he’s sleep deprived and running on not much other than caffeine and his own musings, he’s almost certain he’s going to fall asleep just walking there.

Until he spots you, of course, strolling down the other end of the corridor. You see him, too, wave frantically, and bounce your way over to him. Perhaps, he thinks, Potions won’t be so bad after all.

“Hey,” he says brightly, nearly over the moon to see you.. even if it is early in the morning.

“Georgie! I’ve got news,” you say excitedly, poking him in the ribs and wiggling your eyebrows at him. “Guess what I’ve found out?”

George is peering at you, as if in a dreamlike trance. His voice floats through the air between the two of you. “Tell me.”

“It’s about you know who,” you tease, “got herself a boyfriend, she has.”

George suddenly feels very warm. Blimey, it’s hot. He loosens his tie a bit, a hitch in his voice, “Wait, r-really? Where’ve you heard that?”

“Saw them together in the Great Hall—some Slytherin bloke,” you tell him, clutching your spell books tightly in your arms, “she was nearly drooling all over him—reckon her obsession will move to him now, no?” When George doesn’t share the same enthusiasm you do, you prod him with your wand and joke, “What’s the matter? Don’t tell me you’ve actually fallen for this girl.”

“Merlin, no,” George answers quite quickly. You watch as his expression changes from sullen to chipper within a matter of milliseconds. “That’s great news! Gets her off my back, doesn’t it?”

“Exactly,” you reply, “and now you don’t have to hang around little old me all the time. Not that I don’t enjoy your company—” you add quickly when George furrows his brows, “I just mean, now you’re able to go after any girl you fancy, not worry about her anymore—”

“Yeah,” a laugh escapes his lips, “yeah.. reckon you’re right! Blimey, have got to tell Fred.. he was starting to get freaked every time she so much as glanced over at us.”

Students begin to walk a bit more speedily, and you both realize the sound of the bell is drawing nearer. You push playfully on his chest and say, “Anyway—wanted to tell you before class! Meet me in the common room before dinner, yeah?” And before he can answer, you flash a toothy smile and turn in the opposite direction, making your way as quickly as you can toward the library.

You want to tell him. You want to tell him that you’d heard him and Fred that night when they’d been discussing love potions and whatever Fred has up his sleeve—you’d gotten caught up in the corridor around the bend, chatting with another student about an assignment, and had heard the entire exchange. You reckoned it was best to just end it now, before things get really messy.

Things seemed to be working in your favor, though. You hadn’t lied. That Ravenclaw did find herself a boyfriend, so, it seems as though the plan you two had formulated had worked, and that’s a good thing—right?

It’s the first time in—weeks, months?—that you and George part ways without a kiss on the cheek, a tight, romantic embrace, and it makes him feel weird. Off balance. He doesn’t like it. Is he really.. missing those times? Doing those things with you? He shakes his head in defiance, begrudgingly making his way toward Potions. Fred’s words ring in his ears. Just friends. Even if he does feel those things, it’s obvious that you don’t, he realizes. You’re nearly bouncing off the walls knowing that this fake relationship is over. So, why doesn’t he feel the same way? Why does he feel so sad?

He swallows thickly before bumping into Fred. They make their way into the classroom, George’s head and heart feeling heavier than they have in weeks.

Little does he know, you’re sitting in the library, staring into space, a piece of blank parchment in front of you, feeling, if not more so, the exact same way.

— -

A few days later, George can finally sit in the Great Hall in peace without ducking behind anyone, crouching down in his seat, or skipping feasts altogether. His prior admirer seems so wrapped up with her new love, that George Weasley might as well not even exist. He feels relief wash over him.

He’s sitting with Fred, Ron, Ginny, Harry, and Hermione, but you—you’re nowhere to be found. In fact, he hasn’t seen all that much of you in a few days time. Guess he sort of got used to always having you around. Loads of Herbology assignments, you told him the day before with a cheeky grin, reckon Doubles is catching up with me.

“So Georgie,” Fred says brightly through mouthfuls of potatoes, “reckon we should get back to our regularly scheduled mischief now that our unscheduled hiatus has been lifted, yeah?”

“Oi, Fred, can’t you see that he’s not listening to you?” Ron asks before lifting a hand to slap George right across the face.

“Easy, you two,” Ginny scolds them and grabs Ron before he can do anything. Then she taps her older brother on the shoulder, “Hey, earth to George.”

“What?” George says, finally joining the group, the haze above his head lifting slightly, “oh, erm, sorry.. was—distracted.”

Fred eyes his twin curiously. There’s a tiny bit of sarcasm in his voice, “What’s going on, mate? You’ve been awfully quiet since your little plan wrapped up.” But even in his delirious state, George knows what Fred is trying to do. And he’s so bloody exhausted and tired of fighting everything that he doesn’t even argue. Instead, he takes the group by surprise, and stands up without touching his meal. “What’re you doing?”

“Something I should’ve done months ago!” he calls as he flies toward the entrance, maneuvering himself between students and professors alike. He’s doing things without fully registering what’s going on, he’s taking steps three at a time, he’s jumping through the portrait hole in a huff, he’s panting heavily with a very confused you in front of him, baffled at his state.

“Hey there,” you say brightly, “you alright?”

When George catches his breath, he takes you by surprise. “‘m doing just fine, love.”

“Love?” you ask teasingly, “you missing what we had, Georgie? Our fake little relationship?”

“It wasn’t fake.”

You shoot him a glance and freeze completely. George is almost certain he can hear the pounding of your heart reverberating off of the common room walls. He’s thankful, now that he’s recognized, the two of you are completely alone. “It—it wasn’t?”

“Of course not.”

You offer a nervous grin, and George knows he’s said the right thing. The tension between the two of you is rising and you ask him jokingly, “This isn’t a love potion talking, is it?” Realization hits him like a ton of bricks and he lets an exasperated laugh escape his lips. Damnit, Fred. He shakes his head no and waits with bated breath for your next words.

“So this,” you say, pointing back and forth very rapidly between the two of you, “it’s..it’s been real this entire time?”

“Of course it’s real, it’s always been real,” George is finding it difficult to breathe correctly now, “hasn’t it been real for you?”

But you realize, as you’re choking back tears, that by saying yes, you’ll only be delaying the inevitable—which is, of course, to kiss him into oblivion. And you’d both waited bloody long enough already, hadn’t you?

So instead of saying anything, you bite back a very large grin before stepping forward and pulling on his tie and pressing your lips to his. He’s not even surprised—if anything, he’s relieved, to finally know what it feels like to have your lips on his after many moments having dreamt about it. Immediately, you want to ask him why you two haven’t been doing this the entire time, but you can’t bring yourself to break from him now that you’re intertwined together. It’s slow and warm, his lips molding perfectly with yours, his thumb brushing gently against your cheek, soft moans escaping his lips, the rest of his fingers making their way through your soft hair. It sort of feels as if you’re floating, actually, bouncing delicately from cloud to cloud, high above the trees and the castle. Breaking slightly and pressing his forehead to yours, he says, “So, erm, silly question—but are we—?”

“If you even have to ask if I’m your girlfriend for real now, you’re out of your mind, Weasley.”

George’s head is spinning. He leaves trails of kisses along your cheeks, your neck, and your collarbone, all before finding your lips again, and as they form a smile against his own, he can’t seem to shake the feeling like he’s coming home.

A very amused voice startles you both, making you part at the mere sound of the clearing of a throat. “Alright then, Ron, Ginny, Harry—you all owe me two sickles each. Hermione—cheers again, reckon you did well to agree with me on this one.” And then, when he notices you two watching, Fred says, “Oi—well it’s about bloody time.”

“I’m sorry,” you begin, doing your best to not think about the scarlet color of your face, or the fact that they’d all seen quite possibly the most intimate moment you and George have shared together, “you lot placed bets on us?”

“Sure did,” Fred replies, looking rather pleased with himself as he’s handed his earnings from a very grumpy looking Ron and Harry. He slides the sickles into his pockets and crosses his arms in delight.

As Ginny and Hermione squeal excitedly and wink at you before heading up to the girls dormitory for the evening, George pulls you back into his arms, confidence engulfing him, and says to the others, “If you don’t mind, we were kind of in the middle of something here.”

The tips of Ron’s ears turn extremely pink and he smiles warily. “Guess you didn’t have to use those love Potions after all, Fred,” Harry says.

With a wink at you both before making his way toward the stairs, Fred replies, “Was never going to, actually. Just had to make them think I was. Knew these two would break eventually.”

“Hate to admit it, but you’re kind of brilliant,” Ron says admiringly, but continues to pout when Fred slings an arm around his shoulders and tells him,

“Next time, Ron, just side with your wiser, older brother, yeah?”

You turn back toward George, your arms around his neck. When you make sure the others are finally out of earshot, you say to him, tugging gently on his tie again, “He’s outrageous, he is.”

“Got us together, though, didn’t he?”

“I suppose I’ll give him that one.”

“Oh,” Fred calls from the top of the stairs, “and Y/N? No snogging my brother until the wee hours of the evening, alright? He needs his beauty sleep.”

“Shove off, Freddie,” you call. A cackle of laughter floats down from the boys dormitory, but you find it easy to ignore. What do they know? The two of you have tons of lost time to make up for. You stand on your tippy toes, press your forehead to George’s before he kisses you again. He lets out a soft laugh when you say against his lips, to a Fred who can’t hear you, “Can’t make any promises.”

reblogs & feedback are greatly appreciated, thank you for reading & requesting x

vanilla & charcoal

The scent of your favourite perfume had dissolved instantly as the smell of charcoal engulfed your senses, making your nose wrinkle in discomfort. Opening your eyes, you beheld the shocked faces of the Weasley clan who were sat in the living room. The twins staring at your bewildered face, taking in your soot-covered appearance. The reminiscences of their latest invention staining the carpet beneath you.

“Blimey, Y/N! What happened to you?” Ron asked in surprise, his eyes wide but the shock didn’t stop him from shoving the rest of his custard creams into his mouth.

“Ron! You fool, where were you? We were meant to prank you! Not dear Y/N over here.” Fred remarked in response, he had wanted to laugh but not when his prank had turned you into a burnt marshmallow. 

The kind Hufflepuff who had been invited by his younger brother to stay for Christmas due to her parents work schedules. His twin stood next to him, the sensitive Weasley twin who looked longingly at Y/N with guilt written all over his face. They already felt awful but they were going to feel worse when—

“Fred and George Weasley! What have you done to our guest?” Molly Weasley erupted, not quite like the invention that had exploded onto Y/N but near enough the same. No wonder they had named it ‘Mother’s Wrath’. Turning to look at the young girl, her face was contorted between anger for her unruly twins and sorrow for the Hufflepuff who was still standing in shock - scared to move in case she got black dust anywhere else. “Y/N darling… I’m so sorry, this is not how we wanted your visit to the Burrow to go… why don’t you go clean up, upstairs? Ginny dear, will you show Y/N where the towels are?” 

Nodding her head and smiling sympathetically at Y/N, Ginny got up and escorted yourself out of the room as you mumbled an apology to Mrs Weasley who honestly looked like she wanted to combust as she stared at her boys. Looking back, you glanced at George and his eyes met yours, giving an apologetic glance - you couldn’t help but give a small smile back. You didn’t hear the entirety of her wrath upon the boys but you did hear that they were to go out to the shops to go grab some forgotten groceries, you had guessed that perhaps it would stop Mrs Weasley from yelling even more since the Christmas break had barely begun. 

…

After Ginny had helped you clean up your face and get the soot out of your eyes, she had carefully handed you some towels and explained how the taps were slightly temperamental and left you to shower after giving you a hug despite the chance she could have gotten some of the twin’s failed prank on herself. It hadn’t taken you long to shower, but looking down at the grey coloured water made you thankful that this was the prank you had been at the receiving end of rather than puking pastilles or something even worse. In fact, you weren’t mad with the twins at all, just a little mortified and more so embarrassed. You couldn’t help but let out a small laugh thinking back on the event that had happened mere moments after you had been in the Burrow. Expecting everyone to still be out getting the shopping, you wrapped the huge and fluffy towel around your body with the intentions of running straight to Ginny’s room to get changed into some new clothes. 

Opening the door, you rubbed at your eyes and walked out into something hard. Letting out a scream as you opened your eyes to see the younger twin screaming back at you. Clutching onto your towel, your wet hair had left a few droplets on his striped shirt and you looked up at his taller self and yelled out: “I thought you had left!” Before taking a few deep breaths, your eyes still wide as you stared at the redhead as he seemed to be calming down too.

“Merlin… you scared me.” He breathed out and ran a hand through his hair, finally looking at you to notice that you were covered only by a massive fluffy pink towel. Noticing his own cheeks turn a bright scarlet, yours became tinted by a shade of red too. Clearing his throat, George said: “I just wanted to apologise… I stayed behind to check if you were alright, what we did wasn’t nice and it isn’t an excuse when I say it truly was for Ronald.” The tips of his ears were slightly red at this point too as he tried to stay looking at your eyes rather than your long hair that fell across your shoulders. 

Pressing your lips together, momentarily and looking up at him. You responded: “It’s alright… thank you for apologising but honestly…. It was kind of funny, broke the tension of my nerves getting to the better of me.” Laughing a little, your laugh sounded like a wondrous melody to his ears. 

It was if your laugh had cleared all of his worries for that short moment and all he was focused upon was you. His eyes widened in an awe-like state and George soon enough returned to his awkward self as he nodded, “I’m glad that it didn’t upset you too much…” Remembering where you had just come from, he cleared his throat and continued: “Sorry. I literally bombarded you as you came out the shower. Uh… Ginny’s room is there,” Pointing as he looked away and then quickly said: “I’ll go make us some drinks.” And before you could respond, the tall redhead ran down the stairs so fast that it took you a few seconds to recover. 

As you finished getting changed and starting to dry your hair with the towel Ginny had given you, a smile spread itself across your face. Drying the damp ends of your hair as you thought back onto how George stayed behind to check up on you. No matter how many times you had tried to lie to yourself, you did have a crush on the younger twin. You saw both Fred and George have their own personalities, it just so happened that they were an amazing duo but George was slightly more sensitive and he could even be socially awkward at times. That seems hard to believe but you had been watching him during interactions and George was definitely a sweet soul with a strike of mischief. 

Walking down the spiralling staircase carefully after changing into some comfier and fresh clothing, you smelt like yourself again. “George?” You called out, looking around for him as you smelt something sweet in the air. 

“Out here, Hufflepuff!” He called and you could see the top of his ginger head peeking from outside as he sat on the steps.

Following his voice and sitting next to him, you spotted two mugs in his hands as you thanked him once he passed the blue mug over to you. Looking down at the brown liquid that almost looked slightly glittery, you took a small sip - careful, in case it had been too hot but you were overcome with how amazing it tasted. Letting a small sigh escape your lips after your first sip, you closed your eyes at how heavenly that drink tasted. It was hot chocolate with… something else? You didn’t open your eyes until you heard that familiar laugh encompass your thoughts. 

Peeking at him, you let a small grin spread across your lips: “It’s really good, okay. Don’t let it go to your head though.” You joked, gently nudging him with your arm. George grinned back at you, taking a long drink before responding.

“Oh I would never… I’m glad Miss Hufflepuff likes my cooking though.”

“I would hardly call this cooking, Weasley. It’s hot chocolate.”

“But the best hot chocolate you’ve ever had, correct?”

As much as you wanted to disagree to wipe that smug smile off his face, you nodded before rolling your eyes a little. “It’s really good.” You admitted before taking another drink. 

“Mum’s secret recipe.” He explained, holding his mug between both of his hands and glancing up at the sky as the sun was now hidden behind the clouds. You couldn’t help but take a look at his slender fingers and notice that there were remnants of a dark coloured powder coating his fingers and it wasn’t hot chocolate power. It was charcoal. Smiling, you instinctively touched his thumb without a second thought.

“Well, now I feel happier to see that at least you were marked with that prank also.” Your soft voice spoke, still touching the ginger’s hand as you took another drink with your free hand. 

Unknown to you how George felt, adoring the way your hand felt against his and his cheeks turning pink again. Inhaling quietly, he took in your vanilla-scented perfume and his smile turned lazy with a hint of shyness. Holding his mug in one hand, he let the other go-to hold your own. His soot-covered hand holding your warm one. Your heart was racing at this point, the breeze hitting your cold and wet hair as George’s hand warmed not only your body but your soul too. 

At that moment he knew you would forever encompass his head, heart and soul. 

Looking up at George, your eyes never left his own as he stared back into yours. You could sense the energy from his bright smile as he whispered: “I truly am sorry about the prank.” 

You don’t know what spell of confidence came over you but you suddenly heard yourself whispering back: “Make it up to me with a kiss then, won’t you Weasley?”

Ears tinted pink and a small laugh escaping him, George suavely set his mug to the side before cupping your face delicately and pressing his lips against yours as both your eyes shut. The taste of hot chocolate tinting the kiss that already felt perfect. 

Vanilla and charcoal seemed to mix together in the air and although an unusual pairing, it seemed pretty meant to be. 

but wait what if the twins show up at your door with a pile of annotated books and when you start to ask them what all this nonsense is about, their explanation was:

"we see you in everything, you need to start seeing what we see."

but think about Fred and George seeking you out at one of their quidditch matches and once they find you, they wave and blow you kisses, making sure every guy in the stadium knows you're theirs🫣

in conclusion: all the weasleys are hot af

Person: Are you single?

George, about to give a three hour dissertation about how much he loves his spouse: "In this essay, I will-"

thinking about how "my love mine all mine" plays in george's head when he lays eyes on you because he just can't fathom how lucky he is to have you

sodding map. [g.w. x reader]

summary: yes, the map showed him a lot; it just didn't show him what he wanted to see.

wc: 0.4k

a/n: plot bunny plot bunny plot bunny and pining george being so worked up over not being able to see u all the time

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George Weasley loved to discover; he loved finding out new things hidden between nooks and crannies, he loved seeing little cracks that weren't there previously. Godric, he loved feeling new textures, loved hearing new sounds, tasting new things.

Fred & George Weasley- Ours

Info: your friends with benefits, Fred and George Weasley, see some guy getting a little too close to you at a party; and decide they need to show you exactly who you belong to.

Tags: 18+, PURE SMUT, Threesome, Praise Kink, Degredation Kink, Oral (f receiving), Double Penetration, Anal, Good Sex, Forced Orgasm, Begging, Teasing.

girls on film | george weasley x reader

song; girls on film [duran duran] pairing; george weasley x fem!muggle-born!reader genre; forced proximity, s2l, fluff word count; 5,3k timeline; prisoner of azkaban warnings; swearing, sexual innuendo summary; in an attempt to connect more to the muggle world, hogwarts started a broadcasting club, which looked to be a massive aid in you finding more about your best friend’s crush for her. only, you didn’t expect to find a crush of your own along the way

masterlist

heavily inspired by the film 20th century girl with a touch of love actually!

“lipstick cherry all over the lens as she’s falling.”

———————————————

Anisa Deshpande, your beloved best friend, had been infatuated with Fred Weasley ever since he helped her up after she tripped in the corridor in third year. There was not a single day she went without mentioning his name, mentioning what he’d eaten, mentioning what classes he had. You had gotten used to it, as he was far from all she talked about, so you learned to tolerate when she did.

It was to your great dismay that she was diagnosed with a serious heart condition during the summer holidays between fourth and fifth year, meaning that she wouldn’t be able to return to Hogwarts along with everyone else. On the brighter side, things were looking good: she was likely to be discharged from Mungo’s around Christmas time, and therefore be able to make a return to school for the second term.

When you visited her in hospital for the last time before you were to head back to Hogwarts, she had been devastatingly upset about not being able to gaze at Fred for another few months. Out of sympathy for her, you offered to observe him in her place and report back anything of significance so she could still feel as if she was around him herself. You didn’t think she had ever thanked you as much as she did in that moment.

♡ pairing — fred weasley x fem!reader

♡ summary — fred’s height and size has y/n begging for his cum.

♡ includes — intense sexual content, size kink, tummy bulging, eludes to unprotected sex (please use protection), minors dni!

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*