lili

please read! important!

harry potter masterlist

links will be added as each fic is written

🌷 fluff

🦋 sexual content

🍄 angst

💫 death and/or violence

hermione granger

honeybees 🌷

november rain 🍄🌷

dean thomas

coming soon!

fred weasley

forget me not 🍄💫

sweet vanilla kisses 🌷

common room cuddles 🌷

yours 🌷

chasing butterflies 🍄💫 part two coming soon!

ginny weasley

wildflower 🌷

cedric diggory

dancing with your ghost 🍄💫🌷

ron weasley

walking on sunshine 🌷

still into you 🌷

early mornings 🌷

luna lovegood

colors of love 🍄🌷

george weasley

the things i never told you 🌷🍄💫

coffee shop 🌷

another place 🦋🍄

flowers and sunsets 🌷

snowflakes and hot chocolate 🌷

almost lover 🌷🍄

into the fire 💫🍄

harry potter

coming soon!

neville longbottom

coming soon!

my poetry masterlist

reblogging this again, and adding another reminder that i’ve pretty much moved to this account and that’s where i’m active now!

Into The Fire, George Weasley

Warnings: Mentions of war, mentions of death, angst

Words: 1,832

Prompt: “If you ever loved me then leave and never come back” for @wand3ringr0s3’s writing challenge

Taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @schlongbottom @whizbangs-78 @hufflepuffgirly @vivianweasley @cappsikle @witch-and-a-half @lunalovecroft @oh-for-merlins-sake

At sixteen, if someone would have asked you where you saw yourself in four years, this would not have been what you pictured.

Only twenty years old, and yet you’d experienced enough loss and pain to carry it with you for a lifetime. And you couldn’t turn back the clock, you couldn’t change fate or beg for mercy — none would be a wish granted. It was out of your control, and all you had left to do now was keep moving forward.

It seemed almost impossible, though, to move forward when you still felt stuck in place, barely coming to terms with life as it would be. Not only had your nightmares taken form in the death of someone you loved, but everything you had known before was now out of place, broken apart or simply gone.

But worst of all, the man you had loved for several years, even as a young child, appeared to you as hardly more than a stranger. Every memory, every moment and word that had ever taken root between the two of you, it was all out of reach, as if it wasn’t meant for you anymore. All that you felt when you looked at him was agony. He only served as a reminder of every single thing you no longer had.

It was torment, to be touched by him, to listen to him, to see him. You didn’t find peace with him, and the home you shared didn’t quite feel like home. You could hardly even breathe when he was near, the walls around you only tightening until you felt as if you would shatter to pieces, merely to dust. And it was insufferable when the guilt of such a thing began to bubble up, burning in your veins and eating at your heart.

George didn’t deserve to fall victim to what you felt, not when he had spent all this time hurting just as you did, yet still choosing to help you and love you. He had lost just as much, and the honorable thing to do was to stay, to try mending what had been broken, to move forward together. But all you wanted, all you needed, was to walk away, to move forward alone.

So when the sun rose in the early morning hours and George still slept soundly in bed, you fled, only a minutes worth of hesitation, leaving behind everything apart from a messily packed suitcase, only a scribbled note serving as your goodbye.

Settling down in a new town, a small one at that, wasn’t the easiest thing you had done, but it was incredibly refreshing. To be surrounded by new faces and new architecture put you at ease, even if only a little, for there were few to no physical reminders of everything you’d been yearning to forget.

The first few months were tough — the nightmares hadn’t stopped, often disrupting your sleep and leaving you to sit awake in sweat and tears. And sometimes you’d catch sight of a ginger head of hair, the scent of cinnamon or cranberries, or the tune of a specific song that reminded you not only of the man you had left behind, but also the one that had left you.

George and Fred Weasley. You had found both love and friendship in one set of twins, the two ginger boys claiming you for themselves the very moment they had first met you. It was one of the few good things to come from your years at Hogwarts, actually. Every single day was filled to the brim with laughter, adventure, and contentment.

But you didn’t have hold on those things anymore. It had all been lost just as quickly as it had been found. Fred was gone, his life taken as a consequence of the war. And George, he was gone the minute you walked away.

Now, you were alone, desperately searching for replacements for all that you had lost.

And one by one, you found them. It was different, new to you, but that was exactly what you needed. You made a home out of a cozy loft, empty of any old memories in the form of photographs or knitted sweaters, a fresh canvas for you to paint with new memories. You even managed to snag the barista position at a nearby cafe. Free weekends were spent settled on a park bench with a good book, or in the quiet of your home with freshly brewed tea. You took everything day by day, by schedule and routine.

Soon enough, a year had passed you by, and you even met a new someone. A man, a muggle, someone simple, someone who could offer you a life of complete difference from the one you had with George. It was the final piece to the puzzle, really. Or, at least that’s what you convinced yourself was the final piece.

In what felt like such short time, he had moved in, and even proposed. But you took every step with him in stride, eager to keep moving forward, even if there was a tiny part of your heart that still belonged to the man you loved before, a part that still screamed his name.

You pushed it down though, hid it away, wore the ring that symbolized your life with this new man. And you did learn to love him, the same way you had loved George before it all went wrong. Or maybe not the same, but rather there was enough love to make life with him easy.

He was the one who held you now, the one who kissed you, touched you, wiped away your tears. You wore his sweaters, danced with him in the living room, shared a cup of tea on rainy days. Everything you had ever done with George, you now did with him, replacing the old with the new. Except this time around, you planned a wedding.

You were counting down the days until you walked the aisle, until you made the promise of a lifetime, to a man that didn’t quite look like the one you had expected to make such a promise to — there were only nine more days to go, nine more days to wonder about whether or not this was the right thing.

It was late, the clock ticking close to midnight, the moon and plenty of stars making their temporary visit in the sky. You sat in the living room, leaning into the cushions of the couch with a blanket loosely draped over your shoulders, daintily flipping through one of various wedding magazines. Your fiancé had bid his goodnight a few hours ago, already asleep in the bed, half of the space waiting for you. But your thoughts were especially hectic that night, and due to that, you were wide awake, unable to silence your newfound anxiety and fears.

Just as you were about to pour yourself a third cup of tea, a soft round of knocks against the wood of the front door distracted you. You certainly weren’t expecting anyone, and you knew better than to answer for a stranger, but your curiosity lead you over, hand quickly finding the doorknob and the door itself being pulled open soon after. Suddenly, you were face to face with the one person you thought you’d never see again.

“George?”

“Oh, thank god,” There was a small smile tugging at his lips, his features softening in relief, “I was half certain I got the wrong place, again.”

“Again? George, what the bloody hell are you doing here? How did you find me?”

He bit his lip in hesitation, fumbling with his hands against his chest, “It’s rather easy to find someone when you know the right spells and all.”

You scoffed, moving to close the door, but his foot was quicker, stopping the door just before it came into contact with the frame.

“Please, just hear me out for a minute, alright? It’s the least you can do, after all this time.”

“Fine,” Opening the door wider, again, you leaned against the frame, arms crossed, “One minute. Go.”

“I miss you, okay? You left me, and I waited for you to come back, but you didn’t. You were all I had left, and suddenly you were gone, just like that. Do you have any idea what that does to a person?”

“George-”

“I’m not done,” He stepped closer, his posture straightening with newfound confidence, “I want you to come back home. I don’t care about anything else, okay? You’ll come back home, and we’ll figure out the rest.”

“I can’t do that.”

“Why not? Give me one good reason.”

“I already am home, okay? This place, where I am now, this is my home. And I’m getting married, in nine days, George. I’m not walking away from that.”

George ran his hand through his hair in frustration, “Are you really going to stand there and tell me you want to marry him? Do you love him?”

As much as it sickened you to say the words to him, you stood your ground, “Yes. I love him. I want to marry him, I do. He’s good for me, okay?”

“And I wasn’t?”

Your heart sank, an ache building up just as it did all that time ago, “George, please, I- you know why I left. I can’t give you what you want from me. I’m sorry.”

“But I loved you. I still do,” His chest was practically pressed against yours now, his breath brushing against your skin, his hand finding yours, fingers tangling together, still a perfect fit. You let your eyes flutter closed, breathing in his still familiar scent. “You loved me before, don’t you still love me now?”

Tears prickled at your eyes, building up to the brim until one by one they slipped down your heated cheeks, “I did love you. But I don’t anymore. I don’t love you,” There was a bitter saltiness on your tongue, “And if you ever loved me, then leave, and never come back.”

In quick motions, you leaned away from his touch, letting the door slam closed, causing him to stumble back, “Y/n, open the door! Please, love, just open the door.”

You clasped a hand over your mouth in an attempt to stifle your sobs as you slid to the floor, your back against the door.

“Baby, please, say something. Please don’t make me leave, not like this.”

You brought your knees up to your chest, burying your head into the fabric of your sweater, the tears spilling at a faster rate as you listened to his pleads. It was tearing you apart all over again, to lose him, all over again. But you stayed there, silent, listening to him give up and walk away, just as you had done before.

Only this time, it really was the end. And in nine days, you’d be married, George tucked into the back of your heart, again.

sorry it took a few days for me to see this, i’ve been on my other account! but thank you so much, this was so cute, and i love fred 💗😌

harry potter masterlist

links will be added as each fic is written

🌷 fluff

🦋 sexual content

🍄 angst

💫 death and/or violence

hermione granger

honeybees 🌷

november rain 🍄🌷

fred weasley

forget me not 🍄💫

sweet vanilla kisses 🌷

common room cuddles 🌷

yours 🌷

chasing butterflies 🍄💫 part two coming soon!

ginny weasley

wildflower 🌷

cedric diggory

dancing with your ghost 🍄💫🌷

ron weasley

walking on sunshine 🌷

still into you 🌷

early mornings 🌷

luna lovegood

colors of love 🍄🌷

george weasley

the things i never told you 🌷🍄💫

coffee shop 🌷

another place 🦋🍄

flowers and sunsets 🌷

snowflakes and hot chocolate 🌷

almost lover 🌷🍄

my poetry masterlist

Almost Lover, George Weasley

Warnings: Unrequited love

Words: 750

Prompt: I want you to love me the way you love him.

Taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @schlongbottom

Love. What an intriguing word it is, with such chasmic meaning. One might choose to describe its beauty, the fluttering of a heart and the golden hue of a promised forever, how you felt as if it were endless and you were invincible.

But that simply depended on who you asked. If someone were to put him on the spot and ask, truly, what love was to him, he wouldn’t hesitate to say pain.

It wouldn’t have always been his answer, though. Because once upon a time, love was everything. He had felt it with such an intense depth that one would have felt ashamed to even question him.

George had loved you. Every part of him burned with love for you, a fire so luminous it would have blinded those who had yet to feel it too. His heart practically beat for you, pumping love into his veins, all while filling the empty crevices of his mind with the thought of you.

Even his dreams weren’t safe from invasion. The moment his head hit the pillow and he fell into a sleep, he only ever saw you. And for those few hours through the night, he held you, not a single thing mattering more. But when the sun rose and he rose with it, his bed was still half empty, his skin cold and dreams just that, dreams.

For a while that was okay, though, because your mere existence in his life was enough. He’d pass you in the hallway and his heart would flutter inside his chest, your hand would brush against his and suddenly butterflies made a home in his stomach, he’d hear your laughter and god it was like listening to his favorite song. And when his name slipped from your pretty little lips, he knew six simple letters could never sound better.

You’d been a part of his life for four years, and he knew you like the back of his hand — he knew exactly what to say if he wanted to see your smile or hear your laugh, he always had his mother bake your favorite pastry whenever you stayed at the burrow, he made you mixtapes with all of your favorite tunes, he memorized the shade of your eyes and every mark or scar on your skin, and if you happened to ever have a bad day or feel a little blue, he knew exactly when you needed a distraction or a shoulder to cry on.

George adored you, he was in love with you, thoroughly and extensively, despite any flaws and in despite of your mistakes.

And it was because of his love for you, because of his knowledge, that he noticed the way you looked at Fred. It was exactly how George looked at you.

Suddenly the butterflies were wasps, and the fluttering of his heart turned into an ache that stung throughout his entire body, the sound of your laughter a ringing in his ears he couldn’t get rid of. He was drowning in his love for you, sinking down with the weight of what would never be his.

All he could do was stand by and watch you fall in love with his brother. And promptly enough, he watched Fred fall in love with you.

George didn’t dare interfere, though. It didn’t matter that he still loved you, still wanted you, or that he was in agony, there was nothing he wouldn’t do for his twin, or even for you. If the two of you being happy meant he had to stick to the sidelines with a heavy heart, he would do so.

He tried convincing himself that Fred was good for you, that you were in safe hands. But he couldn’t help but think he’d be better, that he deserved you after all this time. He couldn’t help but wonder, if he had spoken up when he had the chance, would you have chosen him? Would you have learned to love him?

It was too late though. You were content in Fred’s arms, practically glowing with warmth and ardor when you were with the boy. And as you grew older, he showed you adventure, carefree fun, passion, and devotion — all the things George wished to show you, but never would, the ring on your finger a sign of what he had lost, though he had never even had it.

So, when someone asked George what love was, the only word that came to mind was pain.

Colors Of Love, Luna Lovegood

Warnings: Mentions of war, a bit of angst. I’m also not sure if I portray Luna’s character well, if that counts as a warning

Words: 1,369

Prompt: It’s you. It’s always been you.

A/n: Soulmate AU

Taglist: @weasleybees @lunalovecroft @hufflepuffgirly @whizbangs-78 @vivianweasley @cappsikle

As a child, the concept of soulmates was a difficult one to grasp, and as you grew older, the curiosity and wonder of such a thing only grew, the word and it’s essential meaning imbedded in your mind. It was clear that an important piece to your life was missing — after all, from the minute you were born, color hadn’t been there for you to marvel at, instead replaced by shades of black and white. It was rather dull, and often left you feeling empty.

But the simple thought of possibility, the thought that one day your soulmate would find their way to you, bringing with them both color and love, was enough to earn your patience and a bit of appreciation, though you would admit you often questioned that there had to have been a better way to induce soulmates which didn’t involve such a bland route.

And sometimes you’d catch yourself thinking about your soulmate, daydreaming about the idea of falling in love with them and knowing they were your future, and that soulmates meant always. But that same idea happened to also fuel you with fear, granting you with constant anxious wonders — there was the prospect of not falling in love with them, or perhaps they wouldn’t fall in love with you. It terrified you to the point of wanting to hide away, forgetting about the whole concept and accepting the lack of color that came with being alone.

Except that wasn’t what you truly wanted. Every fiber of your being burned with the desire of finding your soulmate. It was practically written in the stars, soulmates, it was meant to be, two people with souls that had been tied together since the very first beat of their hearts. Naturally, you had to face your fears, you needed to let life take its course, hoping that in the end, all would be okay, maybe even perfect if you were lucky enough.

Something within you changed, though, the day you met Luna Lovegood. She was a rather strange girl, a bit different than most, but that only intrigued you more. It was as if you were pulled to her, reeled in by her mere existence and bound to her with curiosity and promised feeling.

Rather instantaneously she had become one of the most important factors of your life, someone you knew you needed. Part of you had even wondered if she was your soulmate. But the thought was always pushed away, hidden behind your freshly felt fear of the possibility that you were wrong or that she wouldn’t want you to be hers. It was to the point where you feared ever even loving her.

But, of course, you couldn’t help it, after only a few months of experiencing all things her, you were falling.

Luna was the one who filled your life with laughter and genuine tranquility, adventure that had you feeling free and endless, conversation that never lacked enthusiasm or spark — it was a friendship paired with intimacy, something that made you feel alive. And she had become your safe place, a pair of arms that would hold you and shield you from the impure, dreadful things of the world. It felt as if you had found your home, of all things, and nothing else quite gave you that sense of euphoria.

It almost made you sorrowful, though. Your soulmate was probably still out there, waiting for you to find them and love them, and yet here you were, loving her instead. It only made you even more anxious, melancholic really, because on one hand, you could lose your soulmate, and on the other, you could lose the first person you’d ever fallen in love with. Either way, it was a tragedy you didn’t want to endure.

In an effort to regain joy for finding your soulmate, you tried pushing your love for the girl down, at most hoping to forget about your feelings, to let them go and save your heart for the one you were meant for. And to keep your feelings a secret was just as important, never daring to spill a single word of thought in regards to what you had found in her other than friendship.

You hadn’t even noticed or thought that Luna felt the same.

As you were now, seventeen years old, you hadn’t ever predicted that there would come a time when Luna couldn’t keep you safe from the darkness in the world that waited to take action. It now loomed over you, though, threatening your own life and the lives of everyone you had ever come to know and care for. It threatened her life. And the thought of losing her had brought back up all of the feelings you had buried, wrapping around your heart and flowing in your veins.

A second war was in the distance, and everyone was frantic and afraid, including yourself. You were still so young and yet the promise of a soulmate, of a full life, didn’t truly appear as a promise anymore. Hope itself had gotten lost in the gray clouds that had only grown darker. Voldemort was the monster that had the power to take everything from you.

In the hour before battle, you had gotten swept up with a group of other students from your house, preparing to fight when the time came. Luna hadn’t slipped from your mind, but she slipped from your sight, and nothing had you more panicked than the possibility of losing her, knowing that you hadn’t even said goodbye.

But the war was not one to wait or grant wishes.

When the wall that offered a tiny fraction of separation and protection came crumbling down, you stood with your wand raised, ready to fight for the world you grew up in and loved, for the people. It was messy and difficult, it took every ounce of your strength and focus, and you hadn’t managed to get away without a scratch, but you did manage to survive, and that counted for something.

You weren’t even truly sure who had won, but the minute everyone began gathering in the Great Hall, some carrying with them the bodies of those who had died, you didn’t hesitate to begin searching for Luna. It was the only thing on your mind as you ran through the broken down halls. And when you wandered into the Great Hall itself, a newfound sense of panic bubbled in your chest when she was nowhere in sight.

Your vision began to cloud with tears, breaths heavier and shakier as you pulled at the hem of your shirt in frustration and worry. It took a hand resting on your shoulder to pull you back into focus, your head snapping to the side, eyes falling onto the figure standing beside you, clothes ripped and dirty.

Immediately you launched forward, wrapping your arms around the girl your heart beat for.

“Luna,” You choked on a held back sob, though it were a cry of relief now, “I thought I lost you.”

“Well, I’m fairly certain I’m no ghost.”

You couldn’t help but laugh, a bright smile adorning your features as you stepped back to study her, “Are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you need to sit down?”

“I’m fine, Y/n, at least as fine as one can be when-”

A newfound sense of courage and pent up feelings made you lean forward again, this time your lips pressing against her own, interrupting her before she could finish her sentence. She didn’t pull away, instead leaning further in, her hands snaking around you waist. It was soft yet full of fervor, your lips molding together in a lingering kiss that tasted sweet on your tongue.

Out of breath, your lips left hers, foreheads leaning together, bodies still held close together. And when your eyes opened, any words you had to say were forgotten, the black and white shades you had grown familiar with fading out, shades of color slowly painting everything around you, including the golden in her hair, the silver blue of her eyes, and the rosy pink tint to her cheeks.

While your expression resembled one of shock, Luna’s resembled one of peace, as if she had known. But a new, radiant smile danced on your lips, “It’s you. It’s always been you.”

“Who else would it be? Nobody else makes sense.”

Early Mornings, Ron Weasley

Warnings: None

Words: 699

Prompt: I’m much more of a morning person when I wake up next to you.

A/n: Thank you, lovely Jess @whizbangs-78 for the general idea/inspiration for this piece of writing 💗

Taglist: @whizbangs-78 @vivianweasley @cappsikle @lunalovecroft (i can’t remember who else wanted to be tagged for characters other than the twins so if i missed you let me know please)

The sun rose in the early hours of the morning, its golden hue beaming in through the opened curtains, casting light over two intertwined bodies tangled within white, silky sheets. A gentle breeze blew in from the cracked window, carrying with it the fresh scent of flowers and distant citrus, brushing ever so softly against bare skin.

Ron stirred awake before the clock hit seven, quite early compared to most mornings. With a stretch of limbs, he turned so that he was directly facing you, still soundly asleep beside him.

His hand reached out, fingers delicately caressing your cheek, brushing aside a few loose strands of hair that had fallen into your face. He studied your features, admiring the orange glow across your skin, accentuating the curve of your lips and the rosy tip of your nose.

After a few minutes, his fingers traveled down to your shoulders, stopping to trace outlines of different shapes and lines, your skin warm to his touch due to the heated sunlight.

There were quiet snores slipping past your throat, and while the majority would find the noise to be of the irritating type, Ron loved it, he couldn’t help but chuckle upon hearing it. Besides, it was easy for him to tune it out if he so desired, focusing solely on how peaceful you appeared, chest rising with every breath you took.

His head fell into the crevice of your neck, his lips pressing a kiss just below your jaw, the action sending a tingling shiver across your body which caused your eyes to flutter open. You hummed at the feeling of his lips against your skin, the sleep state you were in before wearing off.

“Good morning to you too,” You giggled as he lightly nipped at your earlobe, “Getting impatient, were you?”

“Just a bit.”

He situated himself so his nose was brushing against yours, before letting his lips mold with yours in a sweet, lingering kiss. You leaned into his touch, your fingers tangling into his locks of hair.

When his lips left yours, he pecked you softly on the tip of your nose before falling back into the mattress, pulling you with him so that your head was rested atop his chest, and as you listened to the patter of his heartbeat, his hand began to soothingly rub against your back.

“Do you suppose we could just lay in bed all day?”

You couldn’t help the smile that danced amusingly on your lips at his words, even contemplating it yourself, “I admit that does sound quite nice.”

Ron’s hand slid up your back, brushing against your neck before landing in your hair, his fingers tangling between a few strands. You let your eyes flutter closed again, content with the way his touch felt, the way he held you in his arms.

But before you could drift off to sleep for the second time, an uncomfortable rumbling sound invaded the silence, signaling your hunger. You could only sigh, forcing yourself out of his arms. A pouted frown fell on his lips as you did so.

“I’m afraid we can’t just lay in bed all day. Turns out we still have to eat.”

“Can’t we just stay here a bit longer?”

“Nope, sorry buddy,” You pecked his lips before climbing out of the bed, still wrapped up in a blanket as you wandered out of the room.

“Buddy? Did you really just call me that?” His voice echoed through the hallway, and you couldn’t help but laugh, certain there was an even deeper pout on his lips.

As you began to pull ingredients and dishes out of the fridge and various cabinets, you could hear Ron’s footsteps approaching behind you, the wooden planked floors creaking beneath his feet. Upon reaching you, he immediately wrapped his arms around your waist, “What’s on the menu for breakfast, then?”

“Pancakes, of course.”

“With chocolate chips?”

You smiled knowingly, pointing out the bag of chocolate chips on the counter, “As if I would forget.”

While you stirred the pancake mixture, pouring it onto the pan in little circles, you began to hum a tune, patiently waiting to flip each one as they browned. Ron smiled fondly, watching you with admiration just as he had done while you slept, “I love you, you know that?”

Your heart fluttered at the words, as if it was the first time he had ever said them, “I love you too, Ron.”

Chasing Butterflies, Fred Weasley Part One

Warnings: Death, angst

Words: 1,298

Prompt: Had I known, I would not have left you beneath those stars, on the night when I last saw you not knowing it was the last.

A/n: We’re going to pretend that Voldemort was destroyed before everyone went to the Great Hall and mourned the dead, etc, okay?

Taglist: @wand3ringr0s3 @schlongbottom @whizbangs-78 @vivianweasley @cappsikle @cloudyybabee @witch-and-a-half

The atmosphere around you changed as you walked through the mass of people who either mourned their loved ones, sat consoling another, or tended to their own wounds. It was somehow even darker than before, the weight of the past few hours falling onto you, thick and heavy as you wandered through the room, searching for a familiar face — though really, almost every face was familiar, both of those who were lucky enough to live, and those who weren’t.

But there was a specific face sketched into your mind, one of the boy you loved, a face you hadn’t seen since the very start of the fight, having been separated shortly after finding each other in the first place. As you neared the end of the rather large space, a group of ginger haired people caught your attention, and at the sight of them, you couldn’t help but smile, picking up your pace to reach them.

Only, as your feet dragged you closer, the smile on your face was hesitant, twitching on your lips as George’s eyes met yours, red and puffy, as if he himself had been mourning a life. Before you could speak a word or even see whose body it was that Molly was leaning over, George rushed forward, his arms wrapping you up in a tight embrace, managing to hide the sight ahead, even if only for a moment.

This only caused a bubble of panic to form in your stomach, though, and almost immediately you were pushing him away, peering anxiously past his frame. In a matter of seconds, your heart had wrenched up, everything around you suddenly a blur, a distant ringing in your ears as you held your breath, hands clenching into a fist at your sides.

A hand gently rested on your shoulder, but you didn’t bother to take notice of whose it was before you were yanking yourself away, falling to your knees beside the body which laid limp on a stretcher. A voice in your head only whispered one name, a name you had hoped to be shouting with glee by the end of all of this.

Fred. His skin was pale, eyes open but glassed over, dull and unseeing. And when your hand made contact with his own, he was cold, the warmth you had known for so long and grown accustomed to completely gone.

Your throat tightened as you opened your mouth, the action stopping you from speaking. All you could do was stare with lips parted, tears clouding your vision as they formed in the corners of your eyes and filled to the brim. You didn’t blink or dare move, the reels of your mind turning violently, trying to make sense of what had gone wrong.

And it hit you, all at once, the ache in your chest building up until suddenly it felt as if it had exploded, a burning sensation shooting through your veins and across your skin. A grief stricken wail ripped from your throat, the sound so defeaning that it made everyone around you flinch, some even reaching up to cover their ears.

“Oh god, no, no, Freddie, please,” Your arms had latched onto his body, lifting him so that his head was against your chest and your face was buried into his hair, “Wake up, please, please wake up.”

George had let himself fall to his knees next to you, fresh tears slipping down his cheeks as he listened to you, watched you mourn his own brother. He attempted to pull you away from Fred, but you only held on tighter, sobs spilling past your lips, the saltiness of your tears on your tongue.

“Y/n, please, let me-”

“No! I can’t- he can’t be gone, please. Come back to me, baby, please.”

George sighed, this time grabbing onto you with a new sense of determination, making you loosen your hold on his brothers body. He slowly unraveled your arms, gently guiding Fred back down to the stretcher before pulling you away. Immediately, he brought you into his arms, and you buried your face into the crook of his neck.

Your body shook with each breath you took, your cries only growing louder and louder, yet still ever so slightly muffled against him. He could feel the wetness of your tears on his skin, staining the fabric of his shirt as they built up. But he had no care for such a thing. It was quite literally the least of his worries in that moment as he held you, softly rubbing your back in an attempt to soothe you.

“It’s alright, love, let it all out,” He let a hand tangle into your hair as he held you closer, hoping his body heat and gentle touch would calm you at least to the point where you would let yourself really breathe, “It’s alright.”

The rest of his family had stepped away by now, giving the two of you space and letting themselves grieve without worsening the impact for you. About ten minutes had passed by when your sobs had subsided, turning into hiccups as you tried to regulate your breathing.

When George felt the time was right, he chose to speak up again, “Can you breathe? Do you feel okay enough to try getting back on your feet?”

You hesitated, but nodded against him, leaning away so that you could look directly at him. He offered you the smallest of smiles, all that he could muster up before he stood up himself, his arms lifting you up along with him, steadying you onto your feet.

His eyes then began to scan over you, searching for any visible cuts or wounds, “Are you hurt at all? Do you feel pain anywhere?”

Swallowing thickly, you managed to force out a quiet “No, I don’t think so.”

“Okay, good,” He squeezed your hand in his reassuringly, “Come sit with me?”

You stayed silent but let him lead you over to a bench, where the two of you sat down and you let your head fall onto his shoulder. New tears had stopped forming, but the old ones stained your cheeks, mixed with dirt and even a bit of soot. Your eyes were as red and puffy as George’s had been when you first arrived, maybe even more, and your hair was a mess, falling into your face and tangled at practically every angle.

For a while, it was quiet, the both of you simply offering your presence to the other. But as everyone else slowly began to trickle out, be it with their loved ones or bodies in tow, Ron had opted to make his approach, replacing his own grief stricken frown with a soft smile, “Are you ready to head home?”

“Yeah, we’ll catch up with you,” George answered for the both of you, watching as Ron nodded and walked away, him and the rest of the Weasley family exiting the Great Hall, Fred’s body carried between them, “Are you going to be okay? You know, being back at The Burrow and all?”

“I’ll manage. Are you going to be okay?” The guilt of burdening him with your own grief on top of his was eating at you, only making your heart feel heavier in your chest.

“I’ll manage just the same.”

Neither of you quite believed the other, though, but neither said anything else, either, simply choosing to leave it at that. George intertwined his fingers with yours again, keeping you close to his side while walking out of the mostly crumbled and torn apart building — Hogwarts, a place that had once been so full of life, magical and enchanting to the eye, but could now only be viewed as ruins, the ghosts of many stuck behind with it.

Flowers and Sunsets, George Weasley

Warnings: None

Words: 898

Prompt: I wish to spend the rest of my sunsets with you.

A/n: This is part of a four season blurb collaboration with @firewhisky-kisses 💗

It was the end of summer, the warmth of the season coming to a low, but the weather still perfect enough to indulge in.

You laid among the fresh green grass and daisies, property to a wide meadow that stretched far out into hills and forest. George was beside you, a checkered blanket sprawled out underneath your bodies, a whicker basket packed with few pastries and sandwiches set off to the edge, paired with a rather expensive bottle of champagne.

The sun was still visible even in the later hours of the afternoon, casting a warm, golden glow across the landscape. You peered up at the sky, still a light shade of blue, searching through the array of white, fluffed up clouds for a shape that caught your attention.

George leaned on his elbow, admiring you as you pointed out ten different clouds that appeared like something else, a mushroom or a cat’s face, anything you thought was strange or interesting enough to mention. His ears were open to your words, listening intently to the sound of your voice, sweet and melodic, yet he couldn’t help but get caught up in the smile that adorned your features, the way your eyes crinkled at the sides, the rosiness to your cheeks.

You noticed the silence on his part though, turning to face him, only for the pink on your cheeks to turn a brighter shade when you caught him staring. “You know it’s quite rude to stare.”

“Hmm, really? Well, I just can’t help myself, love, you’re quite a sight to see.”

“Oh, shut up,” You lightly pushed at his shoulder, a playful glint in your eyes, “Don’t go all sappy on me.”

“Why? I know you secretly love it.”

He sent you a cheeky wink, his face then softening as a fond smile pulled at his lips, a silence settling between you after you let a quiet giggle slip.

You took the time to study him, the way the beams of the sun lit him up, his eyes a golden shade of brown, a few daises tied together into a crown which sat atop his head, and the freckles scattered across his face even more clear to view. One of your hands reached out, a finger gently tracing the constellations of his freckles. He leaned into your touch, his eyes fluttering closed as a shiver ran down his spine.

Just as you were about to pull your hand away, he wrapped it in his own, pressing a short, sweet kiss to the palm of it. “I love you, darling.”

“I love you too, Georgie. Always.”

He let his upper body fall to the ground, his arms open, and you climbed closer, resting your head upon his chest. His hand immediately began brushing through your hair, still tangled and messy from when he attempted a braid.

You hummed against him, listening to the sound of his heartbeat, slow and rhythmic.

“I wish we could stay like this forever.”

George pressed a second kiss to your skin, this time to your forehead, “Maybe we could.”

With a lighthearted smile, you let your mind wander, “Maybe.”

The sun was beginning to set as you poured yourself and George a glass of champagne, stomachs full from the light meal and mini raspberry tarts you had shared.

“I say we make a toast.”

Your eyes furrowed up in curiosity, “Oh really? To what?”

“To us, of course,” George lifted his glass, his features somehow both serious and soft at the same time, “Cheers to us, for making it this far, and for finding love even in the darkest times. And cheers to you, for sticking by my side even when I’m a bit of a twat.”

“Mm, yes, cheers,” Your glass met his with a light clink, the two of you sipping at the liquid until it began to form warm bubbles at the bottom of your stomachs.

As the sky changed from shades of pink and orange to hues of purple and blue, a few stars already scattered around, George pulled you into his lap, wrapping you up in his arms again. His hands cupped your cheeks, a thumb delicately rubbing against your skin as he peered into your eyes, though his gaze would often slip down to your lips.

“Kiss me, you idiot.”

“As you wish,” George leaned in, his lips molding together with yours in a kiss so saccharine and fervent that it felt as if you were only growing more intoxicated. He tasted of raspberries and peach moscato, and you savored it against your tongue.

Breathless, you leaned away, forehead resting against his while you inhaled the air around you, the smell of flowers mixing with his familiar scent of cinnamon and vetiver.

The sound of crickets and the darker sky that hovered above you made your heart sink in disappointment, “It’s pretty late. Maybe we should call it a day, head back home?”

“Or,” George pecked your nose, then pressed a chaste kiss to the side of your chin, “We could stay out. There’s not much waiting for us back at the flat, might as well relax here for a bit more longer, yeah?”

“Sounds like a perfect idea,” You giggled as his lips traveled over your jawline and down your neck, reaching the bare skin of your shoulders, “Besides, home is wherever you are.”

.∘⋆∗☆ 𝐚 𝐩𝐢𝐜𝐧𝐢𝐜 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 ☆∗⋆∘.

Another Place, George Weasley Blurb

Requested by: @durmstrange

Warnings: Angst, mentions of sex

Words: 990

Prompt: Another Place by Bastille.

You were wrapped around his finger, the late hours of each night consistently beginning with you falling into his bed, two bodies tangled in the sheets, the atmosphere around you heated and filled to the brim with pleasured moans and whines. It was always based on need, two bodies aching for touch and release, two people finding it in each other, if only for a few fleeting hours.

It was clockwork by now, muscle memory, hands and mouths that knew exactly what to do, knew what the other wanted. And these blissful moments with him were enough reason to make you stay stuck in place. It was his offering of something that kept you distracted, and compared to the nothing you had without him, it was welcomed.

You had no wish for something more, no intentions of making love out of it. All you needed was to fill up empty fragments of your time, to feel less alone. And George had similar desires, and eventually, an agreement was established between the two of you. It was only sex.

The agreement lasted longer than either anticipated, but neither complained. He knew you like the back of his hand, and to let you go and search for what he needed in someone else would only be a waste, and he didn’t want to land on any issues with another. What he had with you was easy, ideal. He didn’t need to give anything he didn’t want to give, he wasn’t expected to give more.

And for a while, that was okay. But the more time you spent in his arms, the more times he kissed you and the more you heard your name slip from his lips like it was the only word he knew, the more you fell. It wasn’t something you expected, or even believed at first thought, but suddenly your heart was beating for only him and your skin felt as if it was on fire when he wasn’t touching you. His kiss was like a breath of fresh air, and his smile haunted you when you closed your eyes.

Suddenly you wanted more. All you thought and dreamt was what if — you designed a reality, no, fantasy, where he loved you. And somehow, somewhere along the line, fantasy and reality blurred together.

When he kissed you through the nights and held you until the early mornings, you pretended it was love, you rolled around in his half empty words and false promises, letting yourself believe in something that was never truly there, and truthfully probably never would be.

But when the truth settled in, painfully making its home in the bottom of your stomach and the back of your mind, you bled. The cuts of this reality you were stuck in ran deep, and they scarred, and the blood stained. It felt as if his hand was buried in your chest, holding onto your heart, as if he would rip it out. But you stayed, still, afraid to lose the one thing he gave to you. You put up a facade, determined to not make a mess of things, to not push him away.

In the safety of your own home, and in the hours before you went back to him, you wondered — in another life, does he love you the way you love him? Do his lips taste sweeter, when he makes a promise does he keep it, does he adore you even when you’re not naked in his bed?

You carried the thoughts with you, but you buried them, you hid them away for safekeeping. Sometimes you’d catch yourself making wishes, talking to the moon and speaking your confession into existence, only for it to fade away when the sun rose, the ache of your breaking heart rising with it.

But when he called, you answered. It wasn’t love, he wasn’t really yours, his heart didn’t beat for you, he didn’t need more, yet he still had you wrapped around his fingers, dancing around him. And the night was a foe you called a friend.

But months more passed you by, and one by one the petals fell, the flowers wilted, and piece by piece, you were languishing with them. Hope only brought you dread, and his touch felt cold against your skin. You were merely a shell, hallowed out by the claws of unrequited love.

You were lost all over again, drowning in what could only be described as privation, on the brim of quietus. You were too deep to notice the hand that reached out to you.

George wasn’t a fool — he took notice of the change. It wasn’t hard to miss really, because you weren’t the only one who felt the change, you weren’t the only one who changed. Granted, he hadn’t realized it as soon as you did, but he did feel more, want more.

His head played the same fantasies as yours did, the reel of wonders and wishes and dreams. He had fallen in love with you. George adored you — he missed you when you were gone, he relished in your touch even as it grew faint, every sound you made and word you said was poetry to his ears, he found peace in your smile and scent, and he knew without a doubt that you were the only who made him feel breathless and alive at the same time. But he too was afraid, therefore he stayed as silent as you did, the two of you circling around each other endlessly.

George was as lost as you, as empty as you. He didn’t know what to do, what to say, how to say it. So when you began to slip away, wounded and worn, he let you. Because surely you would find the love you deserved in another, right?

In another life, maybe things would’ve played out more in your favor. You never would find out, though.

Yours, Fred Weasley Blurb

Requested by: @prettysatan

Warnings: None

Words: 850

Prompt: Yours by Evann Mclntosh.

The Gryffindor team had won yet another game of Quidditch, and as always, people rallied together in the Gryffindor Common Room for celebration. Upon Fred’s arrival, he had been shuffled away by his friends, but while he listened to their words and responded accordingly, his eyes met yours across the room.

Fred was all you saw, even with the space as crowded as it was, an array of different faces and overlapping voices and yet it was as if everyone simply vanished and fell silent to your ears when you were looking at him. His smile lit up the whole room, filling it with a sense of warmth and felicity that had you breathing easier than before he had walked in.

Your heart practically pumped out love for him, it was coursing through your veins and pooling in your stomach at all times. He flooded your thoughts and held you in the palm of his hand, and you wouldn’t have it any other way.

For a chunk of the party, you chatted with various others and kept yourself busy with a few games and drinks while Fred did his thing. Simply knowing he was in the same space as you was enough to bring you ease.

You were on your fourth cup of Firewhiskey when the ginger boy finally sauntered over to you, immediately wrapping an arm around your shoulders, “Having a good time, love?”

“It just got better, actually,” You peered up at him, a tipsy smile dancing on your lips, “Now that you’re here and all.”

Fred’s mouth lifted into a smirk, his grasp on you gently tightening. “How are you feeling?”

“I feel fantastic, Freddie boy.”

The alcohol had caused a heated bubbling through out your body, but you felt euphoric almost, at ease. Your skin tingled where he touched you, his touch just as intoxicating as the liquid itself. It was as if your infatuation for the boy had heightened.

He chuckled, the sound pleasing to your ears, “Come on, love, let’s relax for a bit.”

You let him guide you to a corner of the room, where the two of you settled into the cushions of a couch. Instinctively, you climbed into his lap and buried your face into the crook of his neck. He smelled sweet and his skin was warm on your cheeks.

One arm wrapped around your waist and the other brushed through your hair as he held you, contentment swallowing you up. You treasured moments like this, when you could simply exist with him in silence, it felt intimate yet serene.

The noise had died down as students sprinkled out and to their own Common Rooms, or up to their Dorms for a nights sleep. Eventually, it was only you and Fred left, cuddled up with no intentions of parting. His arms felt like home, and nothing mattered to you more than being home.

You’d fallen in love with Fred quite a time ago, but you still felt as smitten as you did the very first day. He drove you wild just as much as he brought you peace and comfort — laughter came effortlessly when he was around, he offered you adventure and never failed to make you feel free, he showed you what it was like to truly live, yet still he was your safe place, the fresh air you breathed, your sense of tranquility and concord.

Never before had you felt such a way about a person, but from the moment Fred first ever said your name, you were sure he was going to be the one. And now, you knew, and you welcomed it. And there was nothing more saccharine than knowing he was yours and you were his, that he loved you the way you loved him, that this could be forever.

As the clocked ticked close to midnight and your body grew tired, you stretched out a bit, a yawn slipping into the air. Fred cupped your face in his hand, soothingly stroking your cheek with his thumb, “Getting sleepy there, darling?”

You nodded, climbing off his lap and leaning against the furniture itself. “But I don’t want to sleep alone.”

“You don’t have to. We can sleep together, right here if you’d like.”

“Sounds perfect.”

Fred situated himself so that he laid properly along the couch, opening his arms to you again. You settled into his side, an arm draped across his stomach as your legs tangled together. His fingers went back to work in your hair and you hummed in content, listening to the soft beating of his heart. “I love you, Fred.”

“I love you too, pretty girl.”

And as you drifted to sleep in his arms, Fred knew, just as you did, that you were the one. And there was nothing he wouldn’t do to ensure that you were his future.

Wildflower, Ginny Weasley

Warnings: None

Pairing: Ginny x Fem!Reader

Words: 1,229

Prompt: I think I love you a little bit more every day.

It was inevitable, to love you, but even if it were a choice she wouldn’t have hesitated to still love you. And she wouldn’t regret it for even a second, because if there’s one thing she was certain of, it was that you were the one.

You were intoxicating — from the warm September morning she first met you, to the chilly December evening four years later, you overwhelmed all of her senses in the most delightful way. There was nothing she welcomed, or adored, more than your delicate touch and cherry scented perfume. And the sound of your laughter was the exact melody she wished to play on repeat through the hours of every day.

If anyone asked, she’d compare you to sunshine after a week of rain, flowers blooming at the first sign of spring, and the first breath of fresh air after being held under water to the brink of the water itself flooding your lungs. But really, nobody needed to ask a single thing to see or understand just how much the young girl adored you. Even you hadn’t been blind to it.

For the first few months of your fifth year, three years after the friendship between the two of you blossomed, you began to notice her gaze which lingered a bit longer that it should’ve, not that you minded. At the time though, you didn’t think all that much of it. But suddenly she was blushing every time you walked into the room, and the more time you spent alone, the more you caught on to her gentle but perennial touches and the way she lit up when you said her name.

And that following summer, you had been invited to stay with her family just as usual. It was your second home, complete with her presence, and nothing felt as euphoric as it did when you got to spend a whole summer with the girl you had fallen in love with. The realization of your own feelings came to light after the realization of hers, and you weren’t afraid or in doubt, for if there was one thing you knew, it was that there was no one who made your heart beat quite like she did.

When the month of august rolled in, there was only one thing you had left to do before the school year started up again — you wanted, no, you needed to tell her exactly how you felt. You’d grown tired of circling around each other, keeping everything at bay, hoping that the other would rip off the bandaid. Besides, as your mother always told you, if you love someone, don’t let them get away.

On a rainy afternoon, the Weasley family cooped up inside after weeks of messing around in the sun, you tracked Ginny down, finding her curled up in bed with a cup of hot tea. You wandered into the room, settling on the edge of her mattress, your own cup of tea held in between your hands. “Lovely day, isn’t it?”

She peered up at you with curious eyes, “Is this you being sarcastic or genuine?”

“Completely genuine. I always did prefer the rain to anything else.”

“Right, of course. How could I possibly forget that time you dragged me outside into the pouring rain for a walk, but whined like a child when the sun came out.”

You laughed lightly, bowing your head to stare at your feet, a habit you had developed when embarrassed. “Believe me, I won’t do that again. We were both sick for three days after that.”

Despite how she had felt at the time, Ginny smiled fondly at the memory, “You never did quite stop apologizing for that.”

“If you’re lucky, I probably never will.”

A silence fell between you, taking a moment to only examine each other. You studied her features, mentally tracing over each of your favorite things — the curve of her lips, the shade of her eyes which reminded you of the moon, the mess of ginger hair that fell into her face. But suddenly you cleared your throat, straightening your posture and fighting off the blotches of pink that were threatening to paint your cheeks.

“Is there something on your mind?”

“Yes, actually. I’ve been meaning to tell you something for a while now.”

Ginny furrowed her eyebrows, sitting up so that her knees were pressed against your own. “Is it bad? Is something wrong?”

“No, not at all,” You reached out, squeezing her hand reassuringly, “I don’t want you to worry, or panic, or second guess anything I’m about to say, alright?”

She nodded hesitantly, her gaze gentle and intense all in the same.

“I love you, Gin. More than you’ve ever known, more than I ever thought I would, really. Bloody hell, I’m in love with you. I’d shout it from the rooftop if it wouldn’t earn me a smack to the back of the head,” You paused, searching her eyes for any unspoken response, “The point is, I can’t stop thinking about you. I love you. And, I think you love me too.”

There was a new silence after the words settled, different expressions flashing across Ginny’s face. Then within a few seconds, there was a smile settled on her lips, “You’re right. I do love you too. You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to put that out there.”

“I think you put it out there pretty well, actually.”

“Nothing gets past you, huh?”

You smirked, leaning forward ever so slightly, “I guess not.”

Ginny met you halfway, her lips locking on yours in a kiss that she had waited years for, and it was just as magical as she thought it would be, as blissful as you thought it would be. She tasted sweet, like berries and honey, and her lips were soft and warm. You melted into her, the sound of both hearts beating in your ears. When she pulled away, leaning her forehead against yours as the two of you caught your breath, you peered into her eyes, the color of them brighter and yet more dazed.

She smiled, just about to lean in for the second time when there was a loud creek at the door, whispers and laughter being muffled behind it. Your eyes widened when two ginger heads poked inside, a playful smirk on both faces.

“It’s about time, you two.”

Ginny leaped of the bed, her cheeks a bright red as she slammed the door, “Bugger off, Fred!”

You couldn’t help but laugh, “I suppose nothing gets past them either.”

“I guess not.”

A year has passed since that day, and there was just as much love even now. Nothing made Ginny happier than knowing you were hers to love and hold, and kiss whenever she pleased. And with every day that passed, she only adored you more and more. She adored you when you were crying a puddle of tears and when you were laughing at some silly joke, when you were tangled in her bedsheets and even when you were grumpy or stubborn.

And on this chilly December day, as you rested in her arms half asleep, wrapped up in one of her old sweaters, she adored you.

“You look awfully cute in my clothes, love.”

“Oh shut up and just kiss me already, Gin.”

“Anything for you.”