lowdownlolo

[lowdownlolo]

sub! friend is lwk perv!fred (cuz ngl you both match eachother freak CONSTANTLY it’s smthn he loves abt you) like i’d imagine you’d let him play with your boobs when ur laying together watching a show cuz you gotta give him the gift of your built in stressballs let’s be serious now. idk i just think he’d get so worked up over that even if you’re js completely unfazed and then yada yada you end up with your feet over his shoulder on the couch UGH IDK 😭😭

omfg yes?! he’s so pervy you can’t help but be melted by him because he just KNOWS how to get under your skin in the way he’ll get your reaction 🫠🫠🫠

[lowdownlolo]

holly shit i just read ur sub!fred flick and i DIED. you will be hearing a lot of me i can tell you that much

yessss hi thank you so much!! i’m ALWAYS looking for asks so please request anything you wanna!! 💋💖

[lowdownlolo]

hiya everyone, please give me some requests because i have NEVER been in such a bad writers block💖🫂🎀

-lots of love, lolo xx

[lowdownlolo]

Me patiently waiting for a George fic from your blog

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. 𝒬𝓊𝒾𝒹𝒹𝒾𝓉𝒸𝒽 𝓁ℴ𝓋ℯ | ℊℯℴ𝓇ℊℯ 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬: 𝐡𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐬𝐨 𝐢𝐧𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞!! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐚𝐧𝐠𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐦𝐞 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐢𝐟 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝, 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐥𝐨𝐭𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲!! 💖💋

The late-autumn sun cast a golden glow over the Hogwarts Quidditch pitch as the two teams warmed up for one of the most anticipated matches of the season: Gryffindor versus Ravenclaw. Students filled the stands, their cheers echoing across the grounds.

I tightened my grip on my broomstick, glancing toward the other side of the pitch where George Weasley hovered midair, laughing with his teammates. His vibrant red hair stood out even from a distance, a beacon of trouble and charm. He caught my gaze and winked before turning back to Oliver Wood, who was barking out last-minute instructions.

My stomach flipped. The wink was subtle enough that no one noticed, but it sent heat rushing to my cheeks. I couldn’t afford to be distracted, not today.

“Focus,” my captain snapped, pulling me out of my thoughts. He was glaring at me, arms crossed. “We’re here to win, not daydream.”

“I’m focused,” I replied quickly, adjusting my grip on my bat. But as the whistle blew and the game began, my thoughts weren’t entirely on the Bludger heading my way.

It had started as a secret, born of late-night encounters in the library and quiet moments on the Astronomy Tower. Quidditch had brought us together, our mutual passion sparking playful debates over strategy and skills.

“I’d outfly you any day,” George had teased once, leaning against the goalposts during a rare quiet moment after practice.

“Keep dreaming, Weasley,” I shot back, smirking. “If you ever make it past me, it’s because I let you.”

Our banter had evolved into something deeper, our rivalry on the pitch only fueling the fire between us. But we kept it hidden, knowing our teammates wouldn’t understand.

The match was brutal. Bludgers zoomed past with deadly precision, and the Quaffle darted back and forth as both teams fought tooth and nail for dominance.

I stayed sharp until I caught sight of George weaving through our Chasers, his movements smooth and confident. He scored with a dramatic flip, flashing a grin at me as he passed.

“Eyes on the game!” my captain snapped again, forcing me to shake off the distraction.

By the time the game ended, Gryffindor had edged out a narrow victory. The teams descended to the ground, sweaty and breathless, as our captains immediately began analyzing what had gone wrong.

“That was pathetic,” He growled, glaring at me. “You were off your game today. Too distracted to keep up.”

“I wasn’t distracted,” I shot back, though my voice lacked conviction.

My captain’s eyes narrowed. “I know about you and Weasley.”

My blood ran cold.

“You think I haven’t noticed the glances? The little smiles? It stops now,” they hissed. “If I catch you with him again, you’re off the team.”

The ultimatum came from both sides. Oliver Wood pulled George aside after practice the next day, his expression grim.

“You’re one of my best players, George, but if this… thing with Ravenclaw’s Beater continues, it’s going to hurt the team,” Wood said firmly. “No distractions. No exceptions.”

George tried to argue, but Wood wouldn’t budge. The decision was made.

That evening, we met in our usual spot near the edge of the Forbidden Forest. The air between us was heavy with unspoken words.

“They know,” I said quietly, staring at the ground.

George sighed, running a hand through his hair. “So does Wood.”

Neither of us wanted to say it, but the words hung there, unspoken, until I finally broke the silence.

“I don’t want to lose Quidditch,” I murmured.

“Neither do I,” George admitted.

It wasn’t fair. We both knew it, but we also knew our teams came first. With heavy hearts, we agreed to end it.

The next few weeks were tense. I threw myself into practice, determined to prove my captain wrong, but seeing George across the pitch during matches was agony. We avoided each other in the halls, our stolen moments replaced by awkward silences.

Things came to a head during another match between our teams. I was flying high, scanning the pitch for the Bludger, when I noticed one of George’s teammates—a Gryffindor Chaser—sidling up to him midair. The Chaser laughed, touching George’s arm and leaning in closer than necessary.

My chest tightened.

The distraction was enough. A Bludger whizzed past, narrowly missing my head, and my split-second hesitation gave Gryffindor the opening they needed to score.

The match ended in another Gryffindor victory, and my team was furious.

“What the hell was that?” my captain snapped. “You let Weasley and his little fan club throw you off? Pathetic.”

I didn’t respond, too busy seething.

Later, I cornered George near the locker rooms, my anger boiling over.

“Was that some kind of strategy?” I demanded.

George looked genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?”

“The flirting! During the match! Don’t pretend you didn’t notice.”

“Flirting?” George repeated, his expression hardening. “You think I planned that? You think I’d use us as some kind of mind game?”

I hesitated, but my anger wouldn’t let me back down. “I don’t know what to think, George.”

He stared at me, hurt flashing in his eyes. “Maybe you don’t know me as well as you thought.”

Before I could respond, he turned and walked away, leaving me standing alone in the corridor.

The rift between us deepened. Resentment and frustration bubbled beneath the surface, but neither of us knew how to fix it. Quidditch, the thing that had brought us together, had become the very thing tearing us apart.

taglist: @wingyattium @georgeplease @ivyinthesun (taglist is open !!)

[lowdownlolo]

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. 𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓈, 𝓈𝒽ℯ 𝓈𝒶𝓎𝓈 | ℊℯℴ𝓇ℊℯ 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

𝐬𝐮𝐦: 𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐛𝐨𝐭𝐡 𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭? 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐚𝐛𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐝 𝐢𝐧, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚? 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐢𝐭?

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐜𝐫𝐮𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐨 𝐞𝐧𝐞𝐦𝐢𝐞𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐬, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬/𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞𝐬, 𝟐 𝐰𝐚𝐲 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐦𝐚, 𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐚𝐯 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞!!

𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬: 𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬! 𝐢 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐬𝐨 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐞 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐡𝐩 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢’𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨 𝐦𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲!! 💋💖

You were leaning against the wall in the Gryffindor common room, a half-finished essay on your lap. Across the room, George Weasley was sitting with Fred, laughing over something they were planning. His laugh was loud and infectious, and despite your best efforts, you found yourself smiling.

“You’re staring,” your best friend nudged you, her tone teasing.

“I am not!” you protested, quickly looking back at your parchment.

“Sure,” she said with a smirk. “You’ve only rewritten that same sentence three times while looking at him. It’s fine, though. He’s cute.”

You risked another glance at George and found him already looking at you. Your eyes locked for a split second before he quickly turned back to Fred, but not before you caught the faintest hint of a blush on his cheeks.

Little did you know, George was having a similar conversation with his twin.

“You’ve got it bad, mate,” Fred teased, clapping him on the back.

“I don’t know what you’re on about,” George said, though his eyes betrayed him, flicking back to where you sat.

Fred smirked knowingly. “Well, either do something about it or stop acting like a lovesick puppy. It’s getting embarrassing.”

The next few days were filled with more stolen glances and awkward smiles. George would go out of his way to sit near you in the Great Hall, and you started “accidentally” running into him between classes. It was unspoken, but the spark between you two was undeniable.

One sunny Saturday morning, you were sitting by the lake with your best friend, chatting about nothing in particular, when she suddenly said, “You know, George flirts with everyone. It’s just his thing.”

You frowned, her words hitting you harder than you expected. “What do you mean?”

“I mean, he’s a charmer. Don’t take it personally if he’s just having fun.”

The thought lingered, casting doubt over every interaction you’d had with George. Had you misread everything?

Meanwhile, in the common room, Fred was stirring up his own chaos.

“You know, she said she thinks you’re immature,” Fred said casually, as George tried to figure out the best way to approach you.

George froze. “What?”

“I overheard her telling her friend. Something about how your pranks are a bit much.”

Fred didn’t think much of it, but to George, it felt like a punch to the gut. All the moments he’d spent trying to impress you suddenly felt foolish.

When you and George crossed paths that evening, the air between you was colder. You smiled tentatively at him, but he barely acknowledged you. Stung, you decided to match his energy.

It started small. You stopped saying hello in the hallways, and he stopped going out of his way to sit near you in the Great Hall. Then, the pranks began.

One morning, you woke up to find your bag filled with Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder. By the time you fished everything out, you were late for class and covered in soot.

That evening, George opened his Charms textbook to find all the pages enchanted to sing “God Save the Queen” whenever he tried to read them. Fred was doubled over with laughter as George glared at the book.

“Oh, this is war,” he muttered.

The pranks escalated. You hexed his broomstick so it would turn upside down mid-air during Quidditch practice, and he charmed your quill to write nothing but embarrassing poems about him during class. Everyone in Gryffindor was talking about the rivalry, and Fred was thoroughly over it.

The Gryffindor common room was buzzing with excitement after a Quidditch victory when Fred decided enough was enough. He dragged you and George into an empty broom cupboard and locked the door.

“What the—Fred!” you yelled, pounding on the door.

“Sort it out, you two!” Fred’s voice called from the other side. “And don’t come out until you’ve stopped being idiots!”

You turned to find George standing stiffly on the other side of the small space, arms crossed.

“Well, this is just perfect,” he muttered.

“You think I want to be stuck in here with you?” you snapped.

The tension was thick, but after a few moments of silence, George sighed. “Look, I don’t know what your problem is with me, but—”

“My problem?” you interrupted, glaring at him. “You’re the one who started ignoring me out of nowhere!”

He stared at you, confused. “You’re the one who thinks I’m immature.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Fred told me you said—”

“Wait.” You cut him off, realization dawning. “My friend told me you flirt with everyone and that I shouldn’t take you seriously.”

There was a long pause as the pieces fell into place. Then, George let out a laugh, shaking his head. “Fred. Of course.”

You couldn’t help but laugh too, though it was tinged with frustration. “And my friend. Unbelievable.”

“So…” George rubbed the back of his neck, looking suddenly shy. “You don’t think I’m immature?”

“And you’re not just toying with me?”

“No,” he said firmly, stepping closer. “I’ve liked you for ages. And I was too much of a coward to say anything.”

You felt your cheeks heat up. “Me too. I mean, I like you too.”

A slow grin spread across his face. “Oh.”

When Fred finally unlocked the door, you and George emerged with matching grins. The tension was completely gone, replaced by something warmer and lighter.

Fred took one look at you both and groaned. “Finally!”

George threw an arm around your shoulders, his touch casual but protective. “Well, thanks for the help, mate.”

Fred raised an eyebrow. “Help? I locked you in a cupboard!”

“And it worked,” George said, grinning.

From that day on, the pranks stopped—or rather, they turned into a collaboration. You and George were inseparable, your playful banter taking on a softer edge. And every so often, when Fred saw you two stealing a kiss behind the shelves in the library, he’d shake his head and mutter, “About time..”

taglist: @wingyattium @georgeplease @kisses4fred

[lowdownlolo]

Hi! I was wondering if you’re open to Fred Weasley requests.

My idea involves Fred and the reader, where the reader can play the guitar and performs a song like ‘Perfect Two’ or ‘All About Him’ by Auburn. I imagine there could be some Muggle items in the wizarding world, making it possible. Fred is completely captivated, even enchanted, by the performance.

I think the scene would fit perfectly in the Great Hall or the Courtyard, with most of the students joining in and singing along.

I’ve had so many ideas for prompts lately based on playful, cheerful, school-love songs centered on Fred. If you’re interested, I’d be thrilled to share more with you!

- 🍀 (maxi)

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. 𝓅ℯ𝓇𝒻ℯ𝒸𝓉 𝓉𝓌ℴ | 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒹 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐩𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐚𝐩, 𝐂𝐔𝐓𝐄𝐍𝐄𝐒𝐒, 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐠𝐮𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐫 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐦 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬!

𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬: 𝐡𝐢𝐲𝐚 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐬𝐨 𝐛𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐦𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞! 𝐦𝐲 𝐚𝐬𝐤𝐬 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐡𝐩 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐤𝐚𝐲 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐭𝐨𝐝𝐚𝐲! 💋💖

The Courtyard of Hogwarts was alive with chatter, the warm hues of the setting sun painting the stone walls gold. Fred Weasley leaned casually against a pillar, his eyes scanning the crowd with his usual mischievous glint. But when he spotted you with a sleek acoustic guitar—a Muggle object no less—he straightened up, curiosity tugging at his grin.

You stood near a bench, adjusting the strings, a small crowd forming around you. Fred pushed off the pillar, weaving his way through the gathering students, until he was close enough to hear your soft voice.

“I thought I’d share something different tonight,” you said, your fingers brushing over the strings. “This is for everyone… but maybe one person in particular.”

Your eyes flickered over the crowd, pausing—just for a moment—on Fred. He felt his heart jolt, but he quickly masked it with a smirk, tilting his head like he wasn’t fazed.

Then, you began to play.

The first strum of the guitar sent a ripple through the air, the melody delicate and captivating. Your voice followed, soft but strong, carrying the words to “Perfect Two”.

Fred forgot how to breathe.

The crowd swayed to the music, their voices joining in as the chorus rolled around:

“You can be the peanut butter to my jelly…”

Fred’s lips quirked up, and he found himself singing under his breath, his gaze locked on you. But he wasn’t alone in watching—students were enchanted by your performance, swaying, laughing, and belting out the lyrics.

Your eyes met Fred’s again as you sang the line, “You’re the one I wanna marry.”

Fred’s smirk faltered for half a second, replaced by something softer, deeper. His gaze was steady, unwavering, like he was trying to etch this moment into his memory.

By the time the song ended, the crowd erupted into applause. Fred clapped too, but his eyes never left you. He didn’t realize his heart was racing until he took a steadying breath.

“You’ve got a bloody gift,” he said when he finally made his way to you, his voice lower than usual.

“Thanks,” you said, smiling shyly as you adjusted the strap of your guitar.

Fred stepped closer, his usual cocky demeanor melting into something quieter, more intent. “That wasn’t just good. That was… magic.”

You laughed softly, tucking a stray strand of hair behind your ear. “Says the wizard.”

His grin widened, but there was something new in his eyes, a warmth that sent a flutter through your chest. “I’m serious,” he said, leaning in slightly. “You’ve got everyone here enchanted, but I think you might’ve done me in completely.”

Your cheeks flushed, but you didn’t look away. “Maybe that was the plan,” you teased lightly.

Fred chuckled, his voice low and smooth. “Oh, I see how it is. Dangerous, are you? Coming in here with your Muggle tricks, making us all swoon.”

“And what if I was singing for you?” you said, surprising even yourself with the boldness.

Fred’s breath hitched, but he recovered quickly, leaning closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. “Then I’d say you’ve got excellent taste.”

Your heart raced as his eyes searched yours, a glint of mischief and something deeper in their depths. The applause and chatter of the students around you faded into the background, the two of you caught in a moment that felt like it was just yours.

“You know,” Fred murmured, his gaze dropping briefly to your lips before snapping back to your eyes, “if you keep this up, you’re going to have to perform every night. For me, at least.”

You laughed, the sound light and breathless. “Guess I’ll need to come up with a few more songs, then.”

Fred’s grin turned lopsided, his confidence returning. “Don’t worry. I’ll be front row every time.”

taglist: @wingyattium @ivyinthesun @georgeplease

taglist is open!! 💋💖

[lowdownlolo]

i think that’s pretty much me!

@wingyattium or anyone who wants to join!! ❤️

𝑇ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑢𝑙𝑒𝑠 𝑎𝑟𝑒 𝑠𝑖𝑚𝑝𝑙𝑒: 𝑔𝑜 𝑡𝑜 𝑝𝑖𝑛𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑒𝑠𝑡, 𝑠𝑒𝑎𝑟𝑐ℎ "𝑦𝑜𝑢𝑟 𝑛𝑎𝑚𝑒 + 𝑐𝑜𝑟𝑒," 𝑝𝑜𝑠𝑡 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑖𝑐𝑡𝑢𝑟𝑒𝑠. 𝑇ℎ𝑒𝑛 𝑡𝑎𝑔 𝑠𝑖𝑥 𝑝𝑒𝑜𝑝𝑙𝑒.

thanks @ghosts-and-blue-sweaters and @cbuttonduo for the tag!! <3

wow i’m obsessed with this and i feel it’s fairly accurate!!

tags (no pressure): @thewildballyntynesgrow @bronzetomatoes @cloverstellar @clingyduoapologist @seeking-elsewhither @thoughts-of-caly

[lowdownlolo]

ohhh my favourite fred fluff scenario please i need to see your take on it PLEASEEE

fred and reader have been in a secure relationship for months, they're so healthy and so trusting and comfortable. there's a gryffindor house party that fred most definitely goes to, though reader stays in their dorm (homework or just tired or whatever reason).

some other girl has polyjuiced herself into reader and tries to make fred jealous by making out with other guys or trying to break up with him, all the while posing as the reader.

fred sees through it immediately cause wtf this is not my love? whomst are you and how quickly can you run because when they find out about this you better have left the country.

fred is possessive of them, obviously, but he also knows that they are just like that about him. there is not a force in the world that could drive the two apart, especially not some random person at a party.

feel free to change anything you wish oh but PLEASE i wanna see your spin on this so badly pleaseee

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. 𝓀𝓃ℴ𝒸𝓀ℴ𝒻𝒻 | 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒹 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝’𝐬 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐬𝐧’𝐭 𝐮𝐩 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐲, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐬𝐮𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐥𝐲 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐨𝐧 𝐫𝐨𝐨𝐦, 𝐥𝐨𝐨𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐞𝐥𝐥?..

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐩𝐨𝐥𝐲𝐣𝐮𝐢𝐜𝐞 𝐩𝐨𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬, 𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮(𝐚𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐜𝐡!💋), 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝’𝐬 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐬 𝐟𝐮𝐜𝐤 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐬 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠

𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐬: 𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐚𝐛𝐞𝐬! 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐚 𝐟𝐞𝐰 𝐝𝐚𝐲𝐬, 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐞! 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 𝐏𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐄 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞, (𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐡𝐩 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬 𝐚𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐭 𝐟𝐫𝐨𝐦 𝐝𝐫𝐚𝐜𝐨!) 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥, 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐈 𝐋𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐩𝐫𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 @kisses4fred 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭! 💋💖

Fred Weasley had been in high spirits when he left your dorm that evening, the usual buzz of a Gryffindor house party calling his name. You’d waved him off with an indulgent smile, telling him to go enjoy himself while you stayed back to catch up on your homework—or possibly just to enjoy a quiet evening without the noise and chaos.

“Try not to blow up the common room,” you’d teased, glancing up from your parchment.

Fred had laughed, leaning down to kiss your forehead before pulling back to study you with a warm, fond expression. “Blow it up? Love, I’d never leave you homeless. I’ll keep the chaos contained.”

“Sure you will,” you’d replied dryly, your lips twitching into a smile.

Fred had left reluctantly, glancing over his shoulder one last time before closing the door. He didn’t particularly want to go to the party, not when you weren’t there, but George had insisted. “You’re already an old married man,” George had teased. “Come on, live a little.”

The party was as wild as expected. Gryffindors packed the common room, music blaring, butterbeer and firewhiskey flowing freely. Fred, as usual, was in the center of it all, orchestrating pranks, laughing with friends, and keeping George from getting them both banned from the tower. But no matter how much fun he was having, a part of his mind always wandered back to you. He wondered if you were still working or if you’d fallen asleep on your books, and he caught himself glancing at the clock, counting down the minutes until he could sneak away and return to you.

That’s why, when you walked into the common room, Fred’s heart stuttered for a second.

You weren’t supposed to be here. You’d said you were too tired to deal with the noise, too swamped with work to join. But there you were, standing at the edge of the room. Fred’s initial surprise melted into confusion as he watched you move. Something wasn’t right.

You didn’t carry yourself the way you usually did. Fred was used to your quiet confidence, the way you moved like you belonged anywhere you chose to be. But this version of you was stiff, hesitant, almost awkward. It was subtle, something most people wouldn’t notice—but Fred did. He always noticed you.

Then came the real blow: you sauntered over to some Ravenclaw bloke and laughed at whatever drivel he was saying. It was a loud, shrill laugh—one that didn’t belong to you at all. Fred frowned, his hand tightening around the butterbeer he’d been nursing. His confusion deepened, but he didn’t feel panic. He trusted you implicitly, knew that whatever he was seeing couldn’t possibly be real.

And then you kissed the Ravenclaw.

Fred didn’t feel heartbreak or betrayal. Instead, he felt something colder, sharper. He set his drink down slowly, his eyes narrowing as he studied the scene in front of him. The way you moved, the way you kissed—it was all wrong. Whoever this person was, they weren’t you. They didn’t know how you leaned into Fred when you kissed him, or the soft little sigh you made when you pulled back. They didn’t know you well enough to even pretend to be you convincingly.

Fred’s lips curled into a smirk, dark and dangerous. Whoever had done this—whoever had dared to steal your face—was about to learn why you didn’t mess with a Weasley, especially not his person.

He pushed through the crowd with purpose, weaving between dancing students until he stood just a few feet away from the impostor. His towering frame and piercing stare were enough to draw attention, and the room began to quiet as people noticed him.

“Well, well,” Fred drawled, his voice carrying easily over the muffled music. “What a surprise, love. Didn’t know you’d decided to master time travel and personality swaps tonight.”

The impostor froze, their back stiffening as they turned to face him. Their expression faltered for the briefest moment before they forced a bright, nervous smile.

“Fred! I—uh, I thought you’d be happy to see me!”

Fred tilted his head, his smirk widening as he stepped closer. His eyes were sharp, glittering with something that made the impostor shrink back slightly. “See, I am happy to see you. But there’s just one problem.” He leaned in, his voice dropping to a low, dangerous murmur. “You’re not her.”

The impostor blinked, their smile faltering completely now. “What are you talking about? Of course I’m—”

Fred laughed, the sound cold and humorless. “Please. You think I wouldn’t notice? I know every inch of her, every look, every move. You? You’re a cheap knockoff.” He leaned closer, his tone darkening. “Whoever you are, you’ve got about five seconds to explain yourself before I make you wish you’d never set foot in this tower.”

The impostor’s eyes darted around the room, clearly realizing they were cornered. The real you wasn’t here to see this, but Fred knew you’d be livid when you found out. And Merlin help whoever had done this, because Fred was possessive of you, sure—but you were just as protective of him. There wasn’t a force in the world that could drive the two of you apart, and anyone foolish enough to try was playing a losing game.

“I—I don’t know what you’re talking about!” the impostor stammered, but their voice wavered, betraying their panic.

Fred didn’t even blink. “Run,” he said simply, his tone low and menacing.

The impostor didn’t need to be told twice. They bolted for the door, nearly tripping over themselves in their haste. Fred watched them go, shaking his head with a mixture of amusement and fury. He’d deal with the details later—figure out who they were and how they’d managed this stunt. For now, all he wanted was to see you.

When Fred reached your dorm, he knocked lightly before stepping inside. You were exactly as he’d pictured: curled up in a blanket, your quill in hand, looking up at him with a mixture of surprise and confusion.

“Fred? Back so soon? What happened to the party?”

He didn’t answer right away. Instead, he crossed the room and pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against his chest. You let out a soft laugh, your hands coming up to rest on his shoulders.

“Fred, what’s going on?” you asked, your voice muffled against his jumper.

“Nothing,” he murmured, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. “Just missed you.”

You pulled back slightly, your brows furrowed in concern. “Are you okay? You’re acting… weird.”

Fred smiled, his usual playfulness returning as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. “Weirdly in love, maybe.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile softened. Whatever had happened at the party, you didn’t need to know all the details. Fred was here, with you, and that was all that mattered.

taglist: @wingyattium @ivyinthesun @georgeplease @kisses4fred

taglist is open if you wanna be added loves! 💖💋

[lowdownlolo]

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

hey cuties, it’s wills just dropping in to say HOLY SHIT THANK YOU FOR SO MANY LIKES, COMMENTS AND REPOSTS?! this is insane!! I have writers block currently, but PLEASEEEE put some requests in my asks for any of the hp boys and girls and i’ll do them within the next few days!! (just please no draco!) i love you all! 💋💖

[lowdownlolo]

⋆˚｡⋆୨✧୧˚ stunned silence | george weasley ˚୨✧୧⋆｡˚⋆

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐰𝐚𝐲𝐬 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐞𝐚𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐛𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐫, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐰𝐢𝐥𝐥 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞?..

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐫𝐮𝐧𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐡𝐨𝐩 𝐢𝐬 𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐇𝐇, 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐞 𝐦𝐚𝐧, 𝐤𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐟𝐢𝐝𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐛𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐡𝐥𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐂𝐎𝐍𝐅𝐈𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐅𝐋𝐔𝐅𝐅𝐅𝐅𝐅 😩

𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐡𝐢 𝐠𝐮𝐲𝐬!! 𝐢’𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐬𝐨𝐫𝐫𝐲 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐧𝐨𝐭 𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐡𝐚𝐝 𝐛𝐚𝐝 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 𝐛𝐥𝐨𝐜𝐤!! 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐬𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚 𝐬𝐩𝐚𝐫𝐬𝐞 𝐚𝐦𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞?! 𝐠𝐨𝐭𝐭𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭, 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐫𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥! 𝐚𝐥𝐬𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝟓𝟎 𝐥𝐢𝐤𝐞𝐬 𝐰𝐭𝐟?!❤️💋

𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧 𝐰𝐡𝐨 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐞𝐜𝐚𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐦𝐲 𝐠𝐨𝐝 𝐝𝐨 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐚 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐢𝐞 𝐟𝐢𝐜!!

If someone had told you that George Weasley of all people would one day leave you speechless, you would’ve laughed in their face. You weren’t the type to lose. At anything. Conversations were your arena, and your sharp wit was your greatest weapon. There wasn’t a word, a comeback, or a comment you couldn’t twist in your favor. You prided yourself on it, wielding it like a duelist brandishing a sword.

And George? Well, George Weasley was your most entertaining opponent.

For months, the two of you had danced this ridiculous, endless waltz of banter—one where neither of you led for long before the other stole the spotlight. In truth, it was the highlight of your days. You loved how his eyes lit up when he found a particularly good retort, the challenge in his grin, and the way he matched you beat for beat. It made you feel alive, like someone had finally found a way to keep up with you.

You, of course, would never admit that out loud.

So when you strolled into Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes that afternoon, you were armed and ready for the next round.

George spotted you instantly from behind the counter, where he was pretending to reorganize the stack of Nose-Biting Teacups. His head popped up like he’d been waiting for you.

“Well, well, if it isn’t my favorite pest,” he said, flashing you that infuriating, lopsided grin.

“Careful, Georgie,” you shot back, narrowing your eyes in mock warning. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere with me. Besides, favorite? Aren’t you supposed to play fair and insult all your customers equally?”

“Only the ones who deserve it,” he quipped, leaning casually against the counter as his eyes swept over you. “You, on the other hand, deserve special treatment.”

“Oh? How generous of you,” you replied, rolling your eyes. You walked further into the shop, brushing a hand against one of the displays as though it was far more interesting than him. “I’ll make sure to send you an award for all your hard work, Weasley. Most mediocre banter in the shop.”

George clutched his chest dramatically, pretending to stagger back like you’d actually wounded him. “Mediocre? You wound me, sweetheart.”

“I’m only telling the truth,” you teased, stepping up to the counter until you were standing just across from him.

“And yet you keep coming back,” he shot back smoothly, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “What’s that say about you, hmm?”

“That I’m clearly doing charity work for your ego.”

George barked out a laugh, his face lighting up like it always did when you had him cornered. He loved this just as much as you did—you could tell. For all his jokes, there was something else in the way he watched you, in the way his eyes lingered on you when you weren’t speaking, like he enjoyed you, not just the words you threw at him.

“Charity work,” George repeated, grinning as he pushed himself off the counter and rounded it slowly, closing the distance between you. “Now that’s a new one.”

You straightened up slightly, instinctively holding your ground. “It’s the truth. Someone’s got to keep you humble.”

“Is that what this is?” he asked, voice dropping slightly. His tone was light and teasing, but there was something else underneath it. Something you couldn’t quite place yet.

You arched a brow. “Are you about to tell me you enjoy losing to me every day? Because if so, you might need to rethink your life choices.”

George stopped in front of you, just a step closer than was strictly necessary. Close enough that you could smell the faint scent of parchment, firewhiskey, and whatever vaguely citrus soap he used.

“Maybe I’ve just been waiting for the right way to win,” he murmured.

Your heart skipped a beat. It wasn’t the words that got you—those, you could’ve countered in your sleep—it was the way he said them. Like he’d already decided something. Like he was testing you.

“Win?” you echoed, narrowing your eyes. “You must be delusional if you think you can outmatch me.”

“Oh, I don’t think,” George replied softly, his voice now a teasing whisper, and before you could retort—before you could blink—he leaned in and kissed you.

For the first time in your life, the words died on your tongue.

It wasn’t just the fact that he kissed you—it was how he kissed you. George moved like he’d done this a hundred times in his head, like he knew exactly how to unravel you. His hands found your waist, fingers curling just enough to pull you against him, while his lips pressed gently, almost tentatively, against yours.

Your brain scrambled to catch up. It should’ve been easy to push him away, to laugh it off, to hit him with some clever jab. But you couldn’t. Not when the warmth of his touch sent sparks shooting up your spine. Not when the kiss deepened slightly, his mouth molding to yours like he’d been waiting forever to do this.

By the time he pulled back, you were a mess. You could feel the heat rushing to your face, the rapid hammering of your heart, and the infuriating flutter somewhere in your chest that you refused to name.

George grinned down at you, thoroughly pleased with himself, and it took everything in you not to hex him right there.

“Well, well,” he said, his voice thick with amusement. “Looks like I’ve finally done it. My sweetheart… speechless.”

You blinked, staring up at him as your mouth opened—and closed—several times. You had nothing. Absolutely nothing. Not a single comeback, insult, or witty remark.

George laughed softly, reaching up to brush a stray strand of hair from your cheek. “Merlin, you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

That snapped you out of it.

“I— I am not flustered,” you sputtered, your voice losing the sharp edge you usually wore like armor.

“Oh, you definitely are,” he teased, his grin widening as he leaned in just enough to make your breath catch again. “Blushing and everything. If I’d known kissing you was all it took, I would’ve done it ages ago.”

“You’re insufferable,” you muttered, shoving weakly at his chest.

“And yet, you kissed me back,” George shot back smugly. “Not so sharp now, are you, love?”

“I—”

You wanted to fight back, to put him in his place, but the truth was, you had kissed him back, and you couldn’t deny the way your heart still raced at the memory. He knew it, too. You could see it in the way he looked at you—like he’d won the best prize imaginable.

“Better get used to it, love,” George said, brushing his lips briefly against your forehead before pulling away with that damnable grin. “I’m not done kissing you speechless yet.”

As he walked back to the counter—cool, collected, and smug—you stood there, reeling, staring after him like a complete idiot.

For once in your life, George Weasley had won, and you had no idea how you’d ever recover.

taglist: @georgeplease @kisses4fred @wingyattium @ivyinthesun

[lowdownlolo]

Hii ! I recently discovered your blog and i’m IN LOVE 🙏🏻

I don’t know if your requests are open ( if not, sorry for bothering you ) but would you consider writing for George ? First kiss between them, friends to lovers and all 🙏🏻 except usually reader is confident and composed, always making snarky remarks and after they kiss she’s just an awkward embarrassed mess 😋 thanks !

oh you bet they are!! keep an eye out and i’ll either post it tonight or tomorrow!! 💋❤️

[lowdownlolo]

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. 𝓇ℯ𝓋ℯ𝓃ℊℯ | 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒹 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐬 𝐡𝐞’𝐬 𝐢𝐧 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐫𝐨𝐥 𝐢𝐧 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐩𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐢𝐧 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐩𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐞..

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭, 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐮𝐛 (𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐦𝐞), 𝐛𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐭𝐢𝐦𝐮𝐥𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧, 𝐚 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐛𝐢𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐮𝐧, 𝐩𝐫𝐚𝐧𝐤 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐧𝐬 𝐢𝐧𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐤𝐲 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐚𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐭𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞

 𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐡𝐞𝐲 𝐚𝐥𝐥! 𝐠𝐨𝐭 𝐚 𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐛𝐲 @kisses4fred 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐣𝐮𝐬𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐬𝐭.. 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝𝐧’𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐩𝐞𝐠𝐠𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐟𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐢𝐧, 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐚𝐯𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐚𝐬 𝐚 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞𝐮𝐩 𝐮𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐥 𝐢 𝐟𝐢𝐠𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐡𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐨 𝐦𝐚𝐤𝐞 𝐢𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤!! 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐨𝐧𝐞 𝐢𝐬 𝐝𝐨𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐥! 💋❤️

The corridors of Hogwarts were abuzz with whispers about Fred Weasley’s latest prank. Unfortunately for you, his latest victim was… well, you.

You and Fred had been dating for a few months, and though you loved his quick wit and knack for mischief, this prank had crossed the line. As you stomped through the castle, the faint remnants of green slime still clinging to your robes, you plotted your revenge. He wouldn’t get away with turning your hair bubblegum pink and covering you in goo during breakfast in front of half the school.

Fred had laughed—oh, he’d laughed so hard he’d nearly fallen off the bench. Even George had muttered, “Bit much, mate,” while hiding a smirk.

But you weren’t one to take such embarrassment lying down.

That evening, you put your plan into motion. Timing was key, as was location. The Prefects’ Bathroom was perfect: quiet, luxurious, and the last place Fred would expect you to strike.

You caught Fred wandering the corridors after Quidditch practice, his hair still damp and a smug grin plastered across his freckled face.

“Fred,” you purred, approaching him with a honey-sweet smile. “Fancy a little… quality time?”

Fred’s grin widened. “I thought you’d never ask.”

In the Prefects’ Bathroom, the giant, gilded tub bubbled invitingly, the air fragrant with steam and lavender soap. Fred slipped into the water, utterly unaware of what you’d planned beforehand.

You sat on the edge of the tub, watching him relax, biting back your lip in glee.

As he turns his back to grab the soap, you start to undress, and make your way over to him.

“Are you alright Freddie baby?” you say flirtily as you whisper in his ear, his eyes dropping to your naked breasts, in awe.

Fred’s eyes faltered on your waist, his usual cocky demeanor slipping away as your fingers brushed gently against his chest. The mischievous grin that had been there moments ago was now replaced by an expression of quiet anticipation, his breathing quickening under your touch.

You could feel the shift in him, the way his usual confidence started to fade the moment you took control. His gaze softened, more vulnerable than you’d ever seen it.

“Is this what you want, Fred?” you asked, your voice low, knowing you had the upper hand now. You slowly traced your fingers down his torso, watching as he shivered slightly beneath your touch, his mouth opening in a half-breathless sigh.

“Yes,” he breathed, his voice strained with desire, but also something else. Something that hinted at his willingness to give in, to let you take the lead.

You climb onto his lap, and lean in closer to his face, your lips brushing his ear as your hands slide behind his head, being rewarded with a groan, as you pull him towards you. “good” you whispered, your breath hot against his skin. “because i think you’ve had enough of being the prankster.”

Fred shuddered at the implication, his body going still as he awaited your next move. His usual cocky attitude had disappeared, replaced by a raw, exposed side that only you get to see. It was intoxicating, watching him wait for you to dictate what happens next.

You placed your hand firmly against his chest, expending a slight resistance, but to your joy, He didn’t fight it, not even a little. Instead his eyes fluttered shut for a brief moment, chest heaving with each breath, waiting for you to do as you please.

"I think it's time you learned that some things are better when you're not in control," you teased, your fingers tracing down his stomach, drawing closer to where his skin was heating up beneath the water.

Fred's breath hitched, and he looked at you with an intensity that spoke volumes. His voice was a near-whisper, but the words were clear. "Do your worst."

You smirked, knowing full well that he was ready to surrender to you. He wanted this. He wanted to be taught a lesson.

With a gentle but firm motion, you pushed him back against the edge of the tub, your body pressed against his in a way that left him no room to move. He let out a soft, needy sigh as you slowly leaned in, kissing him deeply. His hands twitched, but you didn't allow him to touch you yet—he had to wait.

Fred's submission to your touch wasn't just physical—it was mental, an unspoken trust that you would push him just enough to make it exhilarating. As you deepened tr kiss, his hands finally slid to your sides, but you caught them, holding them firmly above his head.

“Patience, Weasley,” you whispered against his lips. “you’re going to realise that some things are worth waiting for.”

His eyes, wide and filled with anticipation, locked onto yours, and for the first time in a while, he was no longer the prankster who could get away with anything. He was yours, completely vulnerable to you, and it felt far more thrilling than any prank could ever be.

He let out a soft, needy sigh as you slowly leaned in, kissing him deeply. His hands twitched, but you didn't allow him to touch you yet—he had to wait.

You tightened your grip on Fred's wrists, keeping his hands pinned above his head as you settled against him. He let out a soft groan, his chest rising and falling rapidly beneath you, every inch of him thrumming with anticipation.

"You like this, don't you?" you asked, your voice low and teasing as your lips hovered just above his, close enough that he could feel your breath but not the kiss he so clearly craved.

Fred swallowed hard, his usual sharp tongue silenced by the weight of the moment.

"Yeah," he admitted, his voice almost a whisper. "I like it when you're in charge."

A smile tugged at your lips.

"Good. Because you're going to stay right there until I say otherwise."

Fred's head tilted back against the edge of the tub, his auburn-streaked hair plastered to his forehead from the steam. His eyes were dark with longing, but he didn't try to move, didn't fight for control-he let you have it completely.

Slowly, you released his wrists, but instead of moving, he kept them where you'd placed them, as if silently asking for your approval.

"Good boy," you murmured, and the quiet groan he let out at the words sent a rush of power through you.

Your hands slid down his arms, across his chest, his pale skin shimmering faintly under the warm glow of the candlelight. He twitched under your touch, every caress sending a jolt through him that made his breathing grow heavier.

"You think you can prank me and get away with it?" you teased, running your nails lightly down his chest, leaving faint red trails in their wake. "That you can embarrass me in front of the whole school and not face any consequences?"

Fred shook his head quickly, his voice catching as he replied, "Never again. I swear."

You leaned in close, your lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, "I don't think you're really sorry. Not yet."

Fred groaned softly, his head falling back even further as you shifted against him, your hands trailing lower, teasing just enough to make him squirm beneath you. "I'm sorry," he rasped, his voice rough and needy. "So, so sorry."

You smirked, clearly unconvinced. "Are you?"

His hands twitched above him, as though he wanted nothing more than to grab you, but he didn't dare. "I'll do anything," he murmured, his voice soft but desperate.

"Just-please."

You paused, savoring the sight of him like this: flushed, vulnerable, and completely at your mercy. “Anything?" you asked, tilting your head as though considering his offer.

You leaned forward, brushing your lips softly against his, but pulling back just before he could deepen the kiss. "Then stay right there," you whispered, your tone commanding but laced with promise.

Fred groaned again, his frustration palpable, but he obeyed. The combination of his restraint and his surrender sent a thrill through you that you couldn't quite explain. This was your Fred Weasley— mischievous, clever, and confident-but right now, he was completely and utterly yours.

As you wrap your fingers around his cock gently, stringing him out, his arms take place on the sides of the bath, veins showing from how hard he’s gripping onto the side, the pleasure sending tidal waves over his body.

Fred's jaw clenched, his body trembling beneath your touch. "I- I'll make it up to you," he stammered, his voice cracking slightly. "Just-bloody hell-don't stop."

You chuckled darkly, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

"Oh, I'm not stopping," you whispered. "But you're not in charge here, Fred. You'll take exactly what I give you. Nothing more."

"You're mine, Fred Weasley," you murmured against his lips, your hand tightening just enough to make him gasp. "And I'm going to make sure you never forget it."

Fred nodded quickly, his voice cracking as he whispered, "Yours. Always yours."

And as you took your time unraveling him completely, Fred didn't dare move without your permission. He wanted nothing more than to stay right there, under your control, letting you take everything you wanted from him. As you start to pump faster, his moans become whimpers and gasps, fuelling your state of dominance, seeing his walls crumble as he gets closer to his peak, you leaning forward to kiss his neck, leaving your mark.

As he reaches his peak, you squeeze his base, fuelling his frustration. “Wha- no please don’t stop-“ he whimpers.

You tilted your head, studying him. “Look at you,” you murmured, your voice low and teasing. “Frederick Weasley, Hogwarts’ king of mischief, reduced to this.” Your fingers ghosted over his thighs beneath the water, never quite touching where you knew he wanted you most.

Fred let out a shaky breath, his voice barely above a whisper. “Only for you.”

The admission sent a rush of power through you, and you smiled, leaning in until your lips were just a breath away from his. “You’ve always got a smart remark,” you said softly. “What happened to that sharp tongue of yours?”

Fred swallowed hard, his gaze flicking down to your lips before meeting your eyes again. “You… you’ve got me completely undone, love.”

“Good,” you said, smirking. Your hand slid lower under the water, wrapping around him just enough to make him suck in a sharp breath, his hips jerking slightly against you.

“Ah, ah,” you chided, tightening your grip just enough to make him still. “You move when I tell you to.”

Fred groaned, his head falling back against the edge of the tub, exposing the long line of his throat. “Merlin, you’re going to kill me,” he rasped, his voice thick with need.

You leaned in, your lips brushing against his neck, teeth grazing just enough to make him whimper. “Not quite,” you murmured against his skin, “but I’ll make you beg if you’re not careful.”

Fred’s breathing hitched, his hands twitching again above his head where you’d left them. “Please,” he whispered, the word tumbling from his lips unbidden. “Please, love, let me touch you.”

You hummed, pulling back to meet his gaze. “You don’t deserve that yet,” you said, your tone firm but playful, your hand teasing him mercilessly under the water. “Not after the stunt you pulled this morning.”

You suddenly move your hips forward, till his tip is against your hole, and as he breathes out, you suddenly sink down in one movement, making his body tense up. “Fuck- too much baby.. bloody hell!” he near almost screams, the pleasure bringing tears to his face, every roll of your hips nearing his orgasm. As your walls start clenching him, making his cock pulse, he almost starts squealing in pleasure. “Shhh baby you can’t be too loud..” you say through your kisses, “Everyone can hear you here, can hear how well i’m making you mine.”

As you say that, warm spurts come rushing out his cock, eyes rolling back as he’s whimpering and gripping onto the side of the bath, veins and jaw becoming visible as the tidal wave takes him under.

As you reach your orgasm, he is panting and using every strain in his body to not thrust up into you, being so overstimulated and overwhelmed it hurts, as your walls pulse around him, strengthening both of your pleasure and pain. When you move off, you notice him far away in his head, as you sit behind him, playing with his hair gently

After an intense moment, Fred leans back in the warm bath, his usual cocky demeanor softened. His hair, damp and clinging to his forehead, brushes against your fingers as you tenderly run them through his fiery locks. He sighs contentedly, the tension melting from his shoulders as the water laps around you both.

Fred, always so eager to take care of you, seems almost bashful in this vulnerable state. You gently wash him, your touch soothing as you glide the washcloth along his freckled skin. His eyes flutter closed, his lips quirking into a faint smile as he leans into your care.

“Y’know,” he murmurs, voice husky but quiet, “I don’t deserve how good you are to me.”

You hush him softly, pressing a kiss to his temple. “You deserve every bit of it, Fred.”

The two of you stay there, the warmth of the bath cocooning you, as you talk in hushed tones or simply bask in the comfort of each other’s presence. It’s in these moments, when Fred lets down his guard, that you see just how deeply he trusts and loves you.

taglist: @wingyattium @ivyinthesun

[lowdownlolo]

HEY QUEEEEEEN omg i'm so excited okay so if u wanna write a sub fred, may i suggest fred having pranked reader a bit more harshly than was planned, and to make it up to them he actually verbally acknowledges that he's had enough fun for the day and reader gets to have revenge on him? i'd love to see overstim and maybe some pegging if you're comfy writing that ^^ oh and aftercare :3

okay yes!!! that is SO HOT and i’ll be writing this ASAP?!

⋆｡ﾟ☁︎｡⋆｡ ﾟ☾ ﾟ｡⋆

[lowdownlolo]

GO FOLLOW LEE-LEE RIGHT NOW AS SHE TOLD ME TO START WRITING AND SHES SO AMAZING AT IT!! 🫡💋

✦. 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐘𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐈𝐔𝐌’𝐒 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋 ✨💛

(or, also a tiny attempt to cure my own writer’s block and practice writing for more characters.)

✦. 𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐏𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐏𝐓𝐒.

prompt: “i said i’d take care of you, did you think i wouldn’t follow through on that?”

— bestfriend!theodore nott, loss of virginity (fem), gentle/passionate sex, porn with feelings, filth.

✦.

prompt: “quiet baby, the others will hear.”

— bsf’s!brother!fred weasley, outdoor/camping sex, semi public, hold the moan, quickie, creampie, general filth.

✦.

prompt: “you’re still horny? didn’t i fuck you hard enough last night?”

— husband!draco, morning/sleepy sex, rough sex, breeding kink, hand kink, general filth.

✦.

prompt: “i need you. i need you both, right now.”

— fwb!sirius black + fwb!remus lupin, threesome (mmf), double penetration, overstimulation, breeding kink, multiple creampies, filth.

✦.

prompt: “look how good you take it.”

— dom!theodore nott, bigdick!theo, size kink, rough sex, biting kink, manhandling, belly bulge, filth.

✦.

prompt: “i’m going to fucking ruin you.”

— mean!mattheo riddle, possessive!mattheo riddle, rough sex/jealous sex, degradation, dumbification, free use(ish), filth.

✦.

prompt: “you know, i could always get you off. right here, right now.”

— bf!fred weasley, softdom!fred weasley, bratty!reader (kind of), fingering/finger fucking, semi-public, porn with a dash of feelings, cum eating, filth.

note: these prompts will more than likely not be written/posted in the order they are listed; i don’t have as much free time to write as i would like, and my brain bounces a lot so working consistently on one draft is a bit hard sometimes. but i’m so excited to get into these! much love and tiny tits, lee lee 💕💋

[lowdownlolo]

꧁✬◦°⋆⋆°◦. 𝓃ℯℯ𝒹 𝒶 𝒷𝓇ℯ𝒶𝓀 | 𝒻𝓇ℯ𝒹 𝓌ℯ𝒶𝓈𝓁ℯ𝓎 ◦°⋆⋆°◦✬꧂

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: 𝐢𝐭’𝐬 𝐚 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐲 𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐫𝐫𝐨𝐰, 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐅𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐟𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐚𝐜𝐭 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐨𝐬𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐡𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐨𝐮𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐮𝐦 𝐬𝐨 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞…

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐢𝐜, 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲𝐬 𝐚 𝐬𝐢𝐦𝐩, 𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐝𝐚 𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐞 𝐛𝐮𝐭 𝐜𝐮𝐭𝐞 𝐟𝐥𝐮𝐟𝐟, 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐩 𝐢𝐠?, 𝐟𝐫𝐢𝐞𝐧𝐝𝐬 𝐭𝐨 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬, 𝐧𝐨 𝐮𝐬𝐞 𝐨𝐟 𝐲/𝐧, 𝐟𝐥𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐟𝐫𝐞𝐝, 𝐠𝐞𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐞 𝐜𝐚𝐧’𝐭 𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐝 𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐞𝐬𝐬, 𝐦𝐫𝐬 𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐥𝐞𝐲 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐚 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭

𝐥𝐨 𝐥𝐨 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐚𝐤𝐢𝐧𝐠: 𝐡𝐞𝐲𝐚! 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐲 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫 𝐟𝐢𝐜 𝐬𝐨 𝐝𝐨𝐧’𝐭 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨𝐨 𝐣𝐮𝐝𝐠𝐲 𝐩𝐥𝐞𝐚𝐬𝐞 , 𝐢 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐬𝐨 𝐦𝐮𝐜𝐡 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐢 𝐡𝐨𝐩𝐞 𝐲𝐨𝐮’𝐯𝐞 𝐚𝐥𝐥 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐧! 😘💋

The warm glow of the fireplace flickered softly against the walls of the Weasley family home, casting shadows that danced across the mismatched furniture.

The scent of freshly baked bread and the faint trace of Molly Weasley’s famous stews filled the air. It was a quiet afternoon, the kind where time seemed to slow, the peaceful hum of the household wrapping everyone in a sense of comfort.

You sat beside Molly in the living room, the two of you working on your knitting—her hands deftly looping yarn, while yours fumbled a bit more with the intricate pattern. She occasionally looked up at you with a knowing smile, offering a quiet piece of advice now and then. The only sound beyond the crackling of the fire was the occasional soft click of needles, the very definition of domestic tranquility.

But that peace was subtly interrupted by the sound of a door creaking open, followed by the unmistakable voice of Fred Weasley, his tone full of mischief as always.

“Well, well, well,” he said, his deep laugh already warming the room. “Looks like I’m interrupting a cozy little knitting circle, huh?”

You looked up just in time to catch Fred’s mischievous grin. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his hands in his pockets. The sight of him, all broad shoulders and that trademark twinkle in his eyes, made your heart flutter in a way that was both familiar and entirely new.

Molly gave him a fond but exasperated look. “Fred, don’t make trouble. Your brother’s not here to help you get into trouble today.”

Fred’s eyes shifted to you, the playful smirk on his face softening just slightly. “I’m not here to cause trouble… Not today, at least.” He moved further into the room, his gaze never leaving you as he made his way towards the fire.

You could feel the warmth of his attention on you, a subtle, quiet pressure that made your pulse quicken. You tried to focus back on the yarn in your hands, but it was hard to ignore the way Fred’s presence seemed to fill up the space around you. He was close now, standing just a few feet away, his figure framed by the firelight. The flickering flames caught the gleam of his hair, making the room seem a little warmer, a little more alive.

Molly hummed contentedly, oblivious to the tension that had started to settle between you and her son. She seemed to have no idea what was brewing underneath the quiet exchange, her attention fully on her knitting.

You, however, couldn’t help but feel your cheeks flush as Fred’s gaze lingered on you, his usual teasing demeanor now carrying something a little deeper, a little more intense. The way he looked at you was enough to make your pulse skip, a quiet thrill building at the back of your mind.

The warmth of the fire and the soft click of knitting needles seemed to fade as Mrs Weasley goes out of the room to check on the cooking, and Fred took a step closer, his voice low and almost playful as he said, “Need help with that?”

Your fingers paused mid-motion, the yarn slipping slightly between them as you tried to focus on his words, though the way he was looking at you made it hard to think clearly.

“Help with knitting?” you asked, your voice coming out a little breathier than you’d intended. You could feel his eyes on you, studying you in a way that made the warmth of the fire seem suddenly too hot.

Fred’s smirk widened, the corners of his mouth curling up in that way that always made your heart race. “Well, you seem like you could use some,” he teased, taking a step closer. His voice was soft, but there was a playfulness underneath it, the kind that always seemed to pull you in, no matter how much you tried to fight it.

You could feel the tension building between you, a quiet charge in the air, like the moment right before a storm. His gaze flickered down to the knitting needles in your hands, and then back up to your face, lingering just a little too long before he spoke again. “Or maybe,” he said, his tone dipping lower, “you just need a break.”

Before you could respond, Fred reached out, his fingers brushing against yours in a slow, deliberate movement. The contact was light, but it sent a jolt of heat rushing through you. He kept his touch there for just a moment too long, and when he finally pulled away, you were left with the memory of the warmth of his skin, the spark of his presence that you couldn’t quite shake.

You swallowed, trying to steady your breath. “Fred,” you said, trying to sound casual, but your voice betrayed you, a slight tremor slipping through. “What are you doing?”

He leaned in just slightly, his breath warm against your ear. “Just making sure you’re alright,” he murmured, his voice dipping into something darker, something more intimate. “Sometimes, the best kind of help isn’t about knitting or anything else… it’s just about being here.”

You could feel the weight of his words, the closeness between you. His proximity made it hard to think, harder still to focus on anything other than the way his presence seemed to pull you in, the way his hand had brushed against yours. The air in the room felt thick now, heavy with something unspoken.

Just as you were about to respond, Molly’s cheerful voice broke through the moment. “Fred, dear, can you help me with the washing up after you’re done staring at the fire?”

Fred straightened up, glancing over his shoulder at his mother with an exaggerated sigh. “You just can’t let me have a moment to myself, can you?” he called back, but there was no real annoyance in his voice—just the same easygoing humor that had always been a part of him.

You found yourself trying to gather your thoughts, but Fred’s lingering gaze was like a quiet hum in your chest, distracting, unsettling. “Right, I’ll—uh, I’ll help,” he said, taking a step back, though his eyes stayed on you a moment longer.

As he turned to leave, you couldn’t help but feel the weight of that brief, heated exchange still hanging in the air, a quiet promise of something you weren’t sure you were ready for, but that you couldn’t quite shake from your thoughts.

Fred hesitated for a moment in the doorway, his hand resting on the frame as he glanced back at you, a quiet intensity still in his eyes. The playful grin was gone, replaced by something deeper, something more serious. He wasn’t rushing out the door now; it seemed like he was waiting for something—waiting for you.

You shifted uncomfortably on the couch, suddenly aware of how much space was between you, and how much it felt like there shouldn’t be. The fire crackled softly in the background, but the tension in the room was palpable now, thickening the air with each passing second. You tried to focus on your knitting again, but your hands felt shaky, the yarn slipping between your fingers more than before.

Finally, Fred spoke, his voice lower, quieter. “You know,” he began, stepping back into the room, his footsteps almost silent on the old wooden floor, “I don’t think I’ve ever seen you so distracted.” He smiled, but it was soft, more thoughtful than usual. “Not that I mind.”

You swallowed, still unsure what to say. “I’m not distracted,” you murmured, but even to your own ears, it sounded less convincing.

Fred raised an eyebrow, moving slowly towards you, his movements smooth, like he knew exactly what effect he was having on you. “Sure you’re not,” he said, the teasing note back in his voice, but with a hint of something more tender beneath it. “Because you’ve been holding that needle for five minutes, and you’re not even knitting anymore.”

You finally looked up, meeting his gaze directly for the first time since the earlier touch, and the look in his eyes sent a thrill racing through you. He wasn’t just teasing now—he was waiting for you to make the next move, to say something, anything. And for the first time, you didn’t want to hold back.

“Maybe I don’t want to knit anymore,” you said softly, and the words hung in the air between you, a daring challenge wrapped in the quiet of the room.

Fred’s lips parted, a flicker of surprise in his expression, before he took a step closer, his body leaning towards yours. “What do you want, then?” His voice was a whisper now, a soft invitation. “Because I’m not sure I can resist finding out.”

You barely had time to react before he was right there, close enough for you to feel the heat radiating off him, the tension thick in the space between you. His eyes darkened, the playful glint replaced by something deeper, something more hungry.

The fire crackled again, loud in the quiet of the room, but the only sound that seemed to matter now was the soft rush of your breath as Fred leaned in just enough for you to feel his warmth against you.

“Fred…” You whispered his name, but it came out more like a question than a plea, the uncertainty mixed with something else—something that felt too good to push away.

He smiled faintly, his thumb gently brushing against your cheek in a soft caress. “It’s alright,” he murmured, his voice low, the promise of something more in his tone. “I won’t push you, but if you want to… well, I’m not going anywhere.”

The air between you and Fred crackles with an invisible force, like a magnetic pulse drawing you together. His warm gaze locks with yours, a soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. The chaos of the Burrow feels distant now, as though the world has narrowed to just the two of you.

Fred leans in slightly, his breath warm against your skin, and your heart races in anticipation. You hesitate, glancing toward the door, half expecting one of his siblings—or worse, Mrs. Weasley—to burst in and shatter the moment. But Fred seems undeterred, his focus solely on you.

“Don’t worry,” he whispers, his tone playful but tender. “I think we’ve got a few seconds before Mum starts shouting about something.”

A nervous laugh escapes you, but before you can say anything, Fred closes the gap, his lips brushing softly against yours, igniting a spark that drowns out every other thought. For once, the Weasley chaos feels miles away, and the moment is entirely yours. The kiss deepens, slow and sweet, as though neither of you wants to rush the moment. Fred’s hand gently cups your cheek, his thumb brushing against your skin, grounding you in the warmth of his touch. His presence is magnetic, and for a fleeting moment, nothing else matters.

But then, just as you’d feared, a loud thump echoes from the staircase, followed by the unmistakable voice of George.

“Oi, Fred! Mum says—” George’s voice cuts off abruptly as he rounds the corner, freezing in place as his eyes widen in mock horror. “Well, well, well. What have we here?”

Fred groans, leaning his forehead against yours, his grin breaking through despite the interruption. “Of course it’s George,” he mutters, his tone somewhere between exasperation and amusement.

You pull back slightly, heat rushing to your face as George crosses his arms, smirking like he’s just uncovered the greatest secret of his life. “Fred, you didn’t tell me we were having guest entertainment tonight,” George teases, his eyebrows wiggling.

“George,” Fred says, standing up straight and glaring at his twin, though there’s no real anger in his tone. “If you don’t turn around and walk away right now, I’ll make sure all your socks disappear for a month.”

George gasps, clutching his chest in mock despair. “Not my socks! Anything but that!” He shoots you a playful wink before backing toward the stairs. “Don’t let me stop you two. Carry on with your business,” he calls over his shoulder, disappearing as quickly as he came.

Fred groans again, shaking his head, but when he looks back at you, his smile is soft and genuine. “Sorry about him. He’s… well, he’s George.”

You laugh, unable to stay embarrassed for long. “I’d be more worried if he didn’t make a scene.”

Fred chuckles, reaching for your hand and lacing his fingers with yours. “Next time, we’ll find somewhere a bit more private. But for now…” His grin turns mischievous as he tugs you closer. “Where were we?”

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hiya! i’m willow but you can call me wills(or any other nicknames you wanna!💖) this is my first time writing for anybody, but this blog is mainly for harry potter! please feel free to leave requests or hmu as id love to write for yall and make some new friends! also never be afraid to ask to be added to a tag list, lots of love, wills! 💖💋

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