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[sirenswhispers]

Hiii!! I love your writing!

Can I ask for Polin 11+8, pleaseee??

Of course you can. I also had a prompt for 2+8 for Polin, so I’ve combined them all into one big prompt which I hope is okay. Thank you so much for your patience!

11. Soulmates AU + 2. Stuck indoors on a rainy day + 8. “You’re lucky you’re cute because your taste in music is awful.”

It’s only mid-morning, but it’s already dark; outside, the sky is a dull, slate grey, the clouds like dark bruises as they roll across the horizon. Rain isn’t pouring so much as it is cascading down, thundering against the windows and fogging up the glass.

Peering out, Penelope can see that all down the street people have their lights switched on and a hundred yellow squares are mistily reflected in the wet shine of the pavement down below. She has the heating up and her warmest, oversized jumper on, but just looking at the rain is making her feel cold.

There is absolutely no way she is leaving the flat today.

No sooner has she thought it than her phone buzzes and lights up on the coffee table with a WhatsApp notification. Picking it up, Penelope swipes over to see a series of messages from Felicity.

 [Felicity, 10.32] I know we were supposed 2 have a girls’ day out 2day

[Felicity, 10.32] but having looked out my window, there is no fckin way I’m leaving the house today

[Felicity, 10.33] this is in no way a reflection of how much I love u because u know I do

[Felicity, 10.33] I just also love being warm and dry

The relief is immediate. Much as she loves her little sister, Penelope is reluctant to drag herself across London when the weather’s good let alone when she’s going to get soaked just walking round the corner to the tube station, and she was a minute away from postponing their plans herself.

But now she has all the joy of cancelled plans, and none of the guilt of cancelling them. And she has the flat to herself, because Eloise is spending the weekend with Philip.

It’s perfect.

Penelope dashes off a reply to Felicity to let her know it’s fine and they can spend the day together another time, then contemplates what she’s going to do with her suddenly free Saturday. There’s a half-finished Whistledown column on her laptop that she should probably try and finish, and half a dozen shows she’s been wanting to binge on Netflix, but first things first: breakfast.  

Popping her headphones in, she taps to bring up Spotify and scrolls through her playlists and saved albums as she crosses to the kitchen before finally settling on what she’s imaginatively dubbed her ‘Upbeat Mix’. Bright, cheerful, sugary pop is exactly what she wants right now – the total opposite of the grey, dreary day outside.

She sways her body to the music, half-dancing as she goes searching through the cupboards and the fridge for flour, eggs and milk. A day to herself absolutely calls for pancakes.

Humming to herself, she measures everything out carefully and whisks up the batter. Just as she finishes, the Spice Girls come on to the playlist and – well, she’s a child of the 90s, it’s like a Pavlovian response to start jamming whenever she hears Wannabe.

Putting the mixing bowl down on the counter, she moves to middle of the kitchen floor, dancing with an abandon she never has whenever her sisters or Eloise drag her on a night out. She’s never been very good at letting go of her inhibitions around other people. It’s like the pressure of being in a crowd is a physical force, pushing everything she wants to show – her sense of humour and fun, her wit - deep inside her, so no one else can see it. She tries, she does, but somehow she can only let it out whenever she’s alone.

So now, with no one to see or judge her, she swishes her hips and puts her hands up and spins around –-

And then lets out an ungodly shriek when she see the tall, muscular figure leaning in the kitchen doorway, watching her with a grin and green eyes bright with amusement.

“Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I just couldn’t bring myself to interrupt,” he says when she pulls out her headphones.

“What – how –” Penelope struggles for both words and breath. Placing a hand on her chest, she can feel her heart racing. “What are you doing here, Colin?”

A thousand thoughts are spinning through her head. Was she supposed to know he was here? He definitely didn’t say anything about it, but it’s possible Eloise meant to leave a note or text her and forgot.

He’s completely dry, in just a t-shirt and jeans, so he didn’t just arrive out of the rain either. In fact his dark hair looks sleep-mussed, sticking out slightly on one side in a way that makes Penelope ache to run her fingers through it and smooth it down, and there’s a light scruff of morning stubble over his jaw. Her heart slams painfully against her ribs. God. It is not fair for someone to look that good this early in the morning.

How must she look in comparison, with her hair slung up in a messy ponytail and wearing a jumper and leggings that she specifically only ever wears around the flat because there’s no one here to see her?

But she’s being silly. Colin, of course, barely seems to notice as he gives a casual shrug.

“I got in late last night and needed somewhere to crash. You were already asleep, and since El wasn’t in I just took her room and - Ooh, are you making pancakes? Excellent, I’m starving.” Sauntering fully into the kitchen, he is immediately side-tracked by the sight of the pancake batter still sat on the counter. “Do you want me to flip them for you? I am a champion pancake flipper, you know.”

You’re a champion something, alright. Her pulse has started to calm down a bit, though it stays a little faster than normal and Penelope knows it’s not because of the dancing. It’s what always happens whenever she’s around Colin Bridgerton.

“That doesn’t really answer my question, Colin. What are you doing here?”

He blinks at her. “Well, my choices were Mum’s, Anthony’s or here. At the first two I’d get nagged to within an inch of my life as soon as they saw me, and I actually like being here, so . . . why? You don’t mind, do you?” 

Ignoring the fluttering in her stomach, reminding herself sternly that he likes it here because he’s close to Eloise and he has more freedom here than he would do at his mother’s, that it’s nothing to do with her, she shakes her head.

“No, of course not,” she says softly, shoulders slumping a little. She could never mind Colin being around, even if sometimes when he’s near she would swear she can actually feel her heart breaking inside her. It’s worth the pain, as fierce and sharp as it is, to get to hear his laugh and watch his eyes light up with excitement as he tells her about his latest travels. “It’s just . . .”

Just that I’d have liked some time to prepare myself to see you. Maybe throw on some make-up, some more flattering clothes . . . not be dancing in the kitchen to the Spice Girls.

“Just that it would be nice to know who’s actually in my flat at any given time,” she finishes finally, quirking an eyebrow up and smiling to show she’s more startled than angry.

“That’s fair,” Colin acknowledges. “I’d say I’ll get out of your hair, but uh …” He gestures vaguely towards the outside, where the sound of the rain is still audible. “Think you can put up with me for today?”

“Mmm, I suppose I try. I’ll admit, I am curious to see what champion pancake flipping looks like.”

“Just you wait, it’ll knock your socks off.”

He grins, and rotates a shoulder as though he’s warming up. As he does so, the sleeve of his t-shirt rides up a little, exposing the curl of writing that wraps around his upper arm. His soul-mark. Penelope’s eyes flicker instinctively to look at it but she jerks her gaze away, a heavy knot forming in her stomach.

“Do they have a lot of pancake flipping championships?”

“Absolutely. I’ve won gold in several countries, for your information.”  

Penelope snorts with laughter despite herself. It’s impossible not to laugh with Colin; he just has such an easy charm and warmth about him. Just being near him she can feel the joy bubbling up inside her and it needs only the barest excuse to come bursting out.

“And what about you?” he continues, lifting his eyebrows. She frowns in confusion.

“What about me?”

He nods towards the centre of the kitchen. “You never mentioned that you were a champion dancer.”

Embarrassment washes over her in a wave of heat, and she’s sure her face must be almost as red as her hair.  

“I didn’t know you were here,” she protests, tempted to dive headfirst into a cupboard to hide her flushed cheeks. “If I had I would never have –”

“Don’t say that,” Colin cuts her off. “It was . . .”

He trails off, shaking his head. She’s curious to know what he was going to say but nerves make the words stick in her throat. Instead she just watches as the faint frown curving his features smooths out again as if it were never there at all and he smiles brightly at her.

“What were you listening to, anyway?”

Before she doing anything he’s grabbed her phone from her hand and is scrolling through the Spotify playlist that’s still been playing all this time. His grin gets wider and wide as he moves through it, and Penelope can feel her cheeks getting warmer and warmer.

Finally he opens his mouth to say something, but she quickly jumps in. “Before you make any judgements, Colin Bridgerton, remember that I know your entire family. All it will take is one text and I’ll know every embarrassing teenage music obsession you’ve ever had.”

Rather than frightening him, it just seems to amuse him more. He lets out a bark of laughter, handing her phone back. “You don’t need to go that far.”

Penelope arches one eyebrow as she puts her phone down on the counter. “So you weren’t going to mock my very cheesy playlist?”

“Well . . . yes, alright, I was going to tell you that you’re lucky you’re cute, because your taste is music is awful. But I meant that you just have ask and I’ll you all my embarrassing music obsessions myself. Weezer, for one. Death Cab for Cutie for another. And I still unironically love Wonderwall.”

The confessions fairly fly over Penelope’s head, her mind too busy repeating You’re lucky you’re cute over and over again. Something constricts painfully in her chest and she turns away from him, shoulders hunched, feeling abruptly much smaller and like she might start crying.

“You don’t have to mock me,” she mutters.

“I’m not, I swear to you. I actually had an Oasis poster up on my wall when I was fifteen.”

He thinks she means she doesn’t believe him about the music. Staring blindly at the tiles on the wall, she shakes her head in a short, jerky motion. “Not that, I mean – calling me cute, you don’t –” It hurts even to say it; she draws a breath and it feels like something jagged is scraping her from the inside. “That’s mean, Colin.”

There’s a beat of confused silenced. Penelope puts her hands on top of her counter, gripping tightly as though it can steady the emotions battering her.

Then Colin says softly, “I wasn’t mocking you.”

A disbelieving snort escapes her before she can stop it.

“Look at me. Look at me, Penelope.” She doesn’t want to, but there’s both a gentleness and firmness to his words that draws her gaze to him despite herself. He’s turned to fully face her, and the smile that’s always half-curving his mouth has disappeared and he looks more serious that Penelope has ever seen him look before. His green eyes meet hers and her breath catches, because she would swear he can see straight through to all the fear and insecurity and vulnerability swirling inside her. “Why would that be mocking you?”

“Well, because – because I’m not –” she stammers out, not sure why that needs explaining.

“You’re not cute?”

His eyes slowly, deliberately, move over her, from head to toe. And despite the fact that she’s terrified, feeling that some vital part of her has been stripped open for him to look at and that even if he doesn’t know it he has the power to completely break her, heat pools low in her belly and a shiver runs down her spine. The way he’s looking at her, she could almost believe . . .

“No, I suppose you’re not,” he says simply, and for a heartbeat everything in her goes cold and still, bracing for the pain, before he continues, “Cute doesn’t do you justice.”

She can’t help it – she actually gasps, head spinning, sure she can’t have heard that right.

“What?”

“You’re lovely, Penelope.” One of his hands comes up and tilts her chin slightly, so their gazes are locked again, like he needs to be sure she hears this and believes it. Her heartbeat’s echoing loudly in her ears, and the intensity in his eyes as they stare into hers makes something warm and bright unfurl in her chest. Something softens in his face for a moment, he repeats it as though he’s saying to himself, “You are. You’re lovely.”

As some point she’s turned to face him as well, and there are scant inches of air between them. The sound of the rain outside seems to have dulled, and everything at the corners of her vision has dimmed; the world has narrowed, to only her and Colin and unsteady, thundering beating of her heart. Nerves have made her mouth dry and, unthinking, she darts her tongue out to wet her lips. Colin’s gaze follows the movement downwards, and he stares at her mouth for a moment and then – then – like one of Penelope’s many dreams come true, he leans in and kisses her.

His mouth is soft and warm on hers, working against hers with patient, gentle strokes. The hand that was holding her chin moves to the nape of her neck, his fingers sinking into her hair, and his other hand slides around her waist and pulls her flush against him so she can feel the strong, solid planes of his chest and the strength of his arms. She’s imagined him doing this so many times, and at first she’s half-afraid she’ll wake up at any moment – but what convinces her that it’s real is the scratching of his stubble against her cheek, a detail so vivid but so completely missing from any of her fantasies.

As soon as she realises this is actually happening, she lets out a sigh of pleasure and lets herself sink into him. Closing her eyes, her arms come up to wind around his neck and she opens her mouth to his, tilting her head to make the kiss deeper, fiercer. A groan bursts from his throat, and it sends a thrill through Penelope to know he’s making that sound because of her.

His hand moves down from her hair to grip her waist, and she finds herself being manoeuvred so the counter’s behind her, pressing into her back, while Colin’s pressing against the whole length of her. She runs her fingers greedily through his hair, and the brings them down to feel his shoulders, his chest, as his hands are also exploring her. Everywhere he touches her it’s like electricity crackling along her skin, and there’s room for nothing in her mind right now but Colin, the taste of him on her tongue, the sound of his breath coming, like hers, in shallow gasps now, and the feel and heat of him surrounding her.

It’s so much better than she could ever have imagined.

His hands slip under her jumper, skimming over her ribs and leaving trails of fire in their wake, and then he grasps the edges and starts to tug it over her head. Still in a kiss-induced haze, Penelope willing brings her arms up to let him tug it over her head. It takes a few pulls, and on the last she feels the cami-top she’s wearing underneath it ride up, exposing her midriff.

Which is when Colin goes still.

At first, anxious to return to kissing him just as soon as she can, Penelope doesn’t realise why, as she throws her jumper away across the kitchen and, since her ponytail has been pulled loose, lets her hair completely down. But then she notices that Colin is staring at her stomach, where starting just below her navel and then curling away over her hip and under her jeans, is a slanted, spiky scrawl of words that reads (as she knows all too well), Well, that was stupid of me, wasn’t it?

She freezes.

“Penelope . . .” Colin says in a strangled tone, reaching out with one finger to trace the contours of his own handwriting etched into her skin. “Is this . . .? Are we . . . ?” 

Oh, God.

If Penelope thought she was afraid before, it’s nothing to how she feels now. The heartbeat that was roaring in her ears mere moments ago has faded and she thinks it might have stopped entirely. She is absolutely sure that she’s forgotten how to breathe.

Slowly Colin lifts his eyes to hers, and she can’t do anything but stare miserably back at him.

In the quietest whisper, she says, “Yes.”

Because what else can she do? It’s one thing to have never mentioned it, to have hidden it from him for all these years. It’s another to lie straight to his face when he can see the evidence for himself.

He looks down at his arm, at the curling script – her handwriting – wrapped around his bicep, and then back at her, his face ashen.

“This is . . .?”

Penelope nods.

“Fuck.” He steps back from her, running a hand through his hair. Without him leaning over her Penelope feels a rush of cold. Mortified, she pulls her top back down to cover the soul mark again. “Fuck. All this time, we’ve – and you knew? Why the hell did you never say anything?”

She almost wants to laugh, but a bitter, broken laugh that’s only a hairline from becoming a sob. “Isn’t the point that I shouldn’t have to say anything?”

Feeling dizzy at how quickly this morning keeps shifting, Penelope slowly slides down to sit on the floor and curls into herself, bringing her knees up to her chest. She’s been half-dreading, half-longing for this moment since she was fifteen years old and of all the ways she expected the truth to eventually come out, this isn’t one of them.

“Do you know what it’s like,” she says quietly, “to hear the words you’ve been waiting your whole life to hear, and to feel your heart skip a beat and to prepare yourself to say their words back – words you didn’t even know you were going to say, but the universe did – and to see the look on your soulmate’s face, only for them to not even realise who you are?”

It’s too painful to look at him so she stares at her knees, but she feels him sitting down beside her so that his arm is brushing against hers. Just that touch makes everything inside her ache.

“You didn’t notice. So I thought – I thought maybe I was wrong. Maybe it was a coincidence and you had different words on you, maybe someone else would say the exact that same thing you did. But then I saw you in a t-shirt and I saw my handwriting on you and I realised it wasn’t a coincidence and you just . . . you just didn’t notice.”

Her voice cracks a little on the last. She’s been keeping this all inside her for so long, it’s strange to finally say it all out loud. It’s more painful that she expected, as though with each word she’s cutting herself open that so he can watch her bleed, and yet it’s a relief as well, to finally have the secret done with.

Colin reaches over and takes her hand in his, and that gives her the courage to finally look up at him. He’s frowning down at her palm, and the expression on his face is enough to break her heart all over again. He looks so – so sad, and a wave of guilt rolls over her.

“Why didn’t you say anything when you realised?”

It takes a few moments to put it into words, and when she does she speaks carefully, testing each one before she commits to it. “Because . . . because you never showed any interest in me, not like that. And I didn’t – it would have felt too much like forcing you into something you didn’t want. I wanted to tell you, but I didn’t want you to be with me because some twist of fate put some words on our skin. I didn’t want you to feel obligated to be with me when you didn’t really want me.”

It all seemed so simple this morning. They were friends and that was all Colin wanted from her, so that was fine. She would keep the secret of their soulmarks and love him from afar, so he could choose the life he wanted.

But now . . . only moments ago, he was kissing her. Passionately, fiercely, the most amazing kiss Penelope has ever had, and one she knows she won’t be able to forget. And he did it without seeing their marks.

So what does that mean?

Colin is quiet for several long moment, tracing one finger over the creases in her palm, before he finally replies.

“I can’t – I can’t really explain why I didn’t realise. I just . . . never thought about it much. I know that sounds like an excuse, but honestly, I’ve never given much thought to the marks. Especially not when I was younger. There were times people would ask me what they said and I’d have to pull my arm out to look because I couldn’t remember. I don’t think I wanted to think about it that much. I avoided it. Thinking about there being someone out there that I was destined to be with made me feel trapped.”

Her heart squeezes. She knew it would. After watching him for twelve years she knows him so well, she thinks she would still recognise him if she were blindfolded and in a dark room.

His gaze comes up to meet hers, such regret and pain in his eyes that she’s sure is mirrored in her own.

“I’m sorry. I’m sorry I hurt you so much without ever knowing it, and I’m sorry it’s taken me so long to see what was right in front of me.”

“It’s okay –”

“No, it’s not. Listen to me, Pen. I’ve never wanted to think much about my soulmate. But recently, I have been thinking about you.”

Her eyes widen. “Me?”

“Yes. When I got my book deal last year, the first person I wanted to tell was you. Because you had been the one to encourage me, to make me think it was possible. And I realised then . . . you’re my best friend, Penelope. More than that. I realised that I looked forward to talking to you every day and I missed you when we didn’t. You want to know why I came here last night? It’s because you’re here, and I was more eager to see you than my family.”

Her pulse has starting racing again, and the tears that she’s been fighting back have gathered in the corners of her eyes but this time she wants to cry because of the slow, bright, burning joy that’s building in her breast but is simply too much to keep inside.

“I’ve been wanting to kiss you like that for months.”

“You have?”

“Yes. I don’t know how I feel about soulmates and words that happen to be on our skin. But I know how I feel about you. And if you’ll let me, I’ll spend as long as it takes making it up to you for taking so long to grow up and realise how amazing you are.”

A smile has been growing on Penelope’s face as he talks, and it feels so wide by now that she’s sure it can’t get any bigger – but it’s nothing compared to how full her heart feels. She opens her mouth to tell him she’ll give him all the time in the world so long as he wants it, but the only sound she can make is a laugh of sheer happiness.

Then Colin’s laughing too and his hands are cradling her face, their foreheads leaning against one another as they both laugh and smile and, in Penelope’s case, cry a little over how long it’s taken them to come together.

But finally she gives him the best answer she can – which is to kiss him again. And at some point when she’s lost track of time and her mind is a white haze of bliss she murmurs between their lips, “I love you.”

And her long-suffering, battered heart takes wings and soars when Colin whispers back, “I love you, too.”

[sirenswhispers]

Deleted scenes from Matchmaking Mr Bridgerton

Kate: why are you both never concerned that Colin will compromise a lady?

Anthony: honestly, we could lock Colin in a drawing room with an unmarried lady and a roasted chicken and Colin would probably only pounce on the roasted chicken

Violet: unless the woman in question was Penelope Featherington wearing a flattering dress.

Anthony: At which point we avert out eyes, offer congratulations and pretend we didn't hear anything.

Bonus:

Kate: that sound like a plan you both have discussed extensively

Violet: that's only plan A. wait until you hear about plan B, plan C and plan D.

Anthony: Plan W requires pushing lady Featherington into the serpentine to give Colin and Penelope time alone together.

Violet: Anthony is rather attached to plan W.

[sirenswhispers]

absolute favorite book scene that i NEED to have end up in the show in some form

[sirenswhispers]

f*ck up the friendship // f.w.

summary : Y/N is in her seventh year at hogwarts and is still a virgin. she doesn’t want to be intimate with just anybody, so she asks her best friend, Fred Weasley, to be her first.

word count: 7k

warnings: 18+ smut, oral sex (fem receiving), cussing, your usual sexy time stuff. unprotected sex but i mean they’re wizards so surely its fine right?

(gif not mine)

Y/N Y/L/N sat beside Hermione Granger in the Great Hall, eating lunch at the end of the table and chatting about the latest muggle book Hermione had read and wanted to share with Y/N. She listened intently while her best friend smiled and frowned at the twists and turns of the plot. Breaths into her latest sentence, Hermione stops, peering somewhere behind Y/N with wide eyes and pursed lips, nudging Y/N to turn around before she could get a question out.

Angelina Johnson and George Weasley entered the Great Hall at the same time, sheepish grins on their faces. George scratched the back of his neck, biting his lip while grinning as they parted ways, he headed towards the other side of the Gryffindor table where Fred, Ron, Harry and the other boys sat. Angelina hurried off towards the girls, taking a seat before Y/N.

“You’ve got to be joking!” Hermione exclaimed as Angelina sat fully.

Angelina was glowing.

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[sirenswhispers]

All About The Chase - F.W.

Fred Weasley x Reader

Summary: Y/N will do anything for her best friend—and crush—Fred Weasley. Even if that means fake dating him so he can catch the eye of her cousin.

Word Count: 6.5k

Warnings: Light swearing, one allusion to sex (blink and you’ll miss it), brief mention of intoxication (again, blink and you’ll miss it), super mean awful cousin, food, a little angsty with a happy ending, 

A/N: For the anon who asked for Fred fake dating his friend to make her relative jealous! I decided to make her the twins age, and I may have went a little overboard with the cousin rivalry, but oh well. Thank you for feeding into my love of cliches! Also, I played around with using third person rather than second, it just felt right for this one. Pictures are from Pinterest.

message to be added to tags :)

When Y/N was six years old, her parents—well, Santa—got her the most amazing art set. She had always liked to draw, and now she had an array of more colors than she could even really name. When her family was set to head to her Aunt’s house for Christmas dinner, she packed up all of her new markers, a stack of fresh paper, and a few of her drawings she was most proud of to show off.

The night had started wonderfully. She got a few more gifts from her grandparents, a beautiful doll from her aunt and uncle, and enough sweets and candy to last her months. When it was time to finally eat, Y/N left all of her new toys and her cherished art set in her relatives’ living room. Y/N doesn’t remember much about the dinner—why should she? It was a decade prior—but what she does remember vividly is the excitement that bubbled up in her tiny body when her mother suggested she go grab some of her artwork to show off.

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[sirenswhispers]

Why was this so cute to read? I have butterflies, an entirely ZOO in my stomach 😍

Flustered | Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: mentions of underage drinking and alcohol, tickling, making out Summary: Your flirty friendship with Fred Weasley comes to a resolution after an argument surrounding the Yule Ball that took place all those years ago. 

A/N: hi friends! this is a Fred Weasley fic based on a tik tok i saw last night (all credit for the bolded line goes to the creator of the tik tok). also thank you to @gcdric for discussing this with me very late last night, i hope it turned out well omg i’m NERVOUS. anyway! off we go. please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! i’m updating it since i was on hiatus for awhile! love you guys!

As you sat on the couch of the Burrow, your eyes fixated on the many pictures in the Weasley’s living room, your mind began to drift off with thoughts of the freckled, red-headed boy sat in front of you giggling with his siblings.

There was something extraordinarily special about your friendship with Fred Weasley. After ten plus years of him being the most important person in your life, ever since your first day at Hogwarts when he tripped over your robes as you and your fellow first years hurried into the Sorting Ceremony, you couldn’t imagine life without him.

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[sirenswhispers]

GOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOD 😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍😍

The Jackpot Question (Fred Weasley x Female!Reader)

A/N: I love Fred so much that I couldn’t write just one for him! Here’s another Freddie for y’all. 

Prompt: 18. “Wanna go skating in Central Park?” 

Word Count: 1.5K Words

Playlist: What’re You Doing New Years Eve? - Nancy Wilson [Spotify] [YouTube]

Warnings: Some alcohol consumption, but nothing but fluff, fluff and more fluff! 

“But in case, I stand one little chance Here comes the jackpot question in advance What are you doing New Year’s? New Year’s Eve?” What’re You Doing New Year’s Eve? – Nancy Wilson

Fred found her with her back leaning against the railing while she stared up and the dancing sugarplums, and they had enchanted all over the ceiling. He eyed the empty champagne flute hanging in her hand, and he smiled. With a swift twirl of his wand, he had it refilling and, in turn, subtly alerting her to his presence. He paused on the top step, taking his time to appreciate her standing there. He watched as a smile spread across her lips with the filling of her glass.

Taking her time, she lifted the flute to her mouth and took a long sip before casting a sideways glance over at him. She winked at him, and he chuckled. Running his hand on the opposite bannister, he stepped up towards her, he raised his glass to hers, and she inclined hers so that they made a small clink as they connected.

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[sirenswhispers]

The knight and the princess

N/A: Hello. I hope you like what I wrote, I’m sorry is it’s misspelled or something, I apologize deeply, but english is not my first language and I’m trying. Anyway, Fred and George always enlight my day, and today I’m feeling a little sad, so this came to me. 

Enjoy it 

George Weasley x Fem!Ravenclaw Reader

Warnings: Is bad writing a waning? George Weasley being oblivious

At the age of ten, running through the wide fields of your town, the sun shining high and wearing a paper crown on your head, that’s how you met the Weasley twins.  

It was the first time you have ever seen people with red hair, and you thought it was wonderful, if not magical. Such a beautiful and vibrant color that belonged to them. You had to talk to them, ask them what it was like to be a redhead.

“Well, it’s an everyday thing for us.” Said the twin on the right, while the one on the left could only sport a shy smile for you. “So, it feels pretty normal”.

You laughed.

That’s how your friendship began. That day, they played with you for the first time.

Seeing the crown on your head, Fred yelled he wanted to be the king while George settled for being the knight that rescued the princess from the evil ruler. In the game, Fred was and arrogant king who kept you captive, stolen from your own reign, and George was the one who had to rescue you and take you back to your castle.

He never told you how much he enjoyed being able to hold your hand when he saved you from Fred.

However, he did promise you something that day.

Pretending to be the most honorable knight of the reign, such a gentleman, he gave a kiss to your hand, and watching you through his light eyelashes he said-: “Someday, I’ll marry you princess.”

Neither of you were familiar with the ticklish feeling that grew on you from those words.

Being a year older than you, soon the twins left for Hogwarts, and you didn’t have neither an evil king to run from nor a gentle knight to save you. Instead, your most loyal company was your owl, which flew day by day to give your letters to the twins and theirs to you.

They told you how amazing Hogwarts was. They wrote about pranks, and classes, and magic. Mostly, they loved telling you about their pranks on Filch. One day, they told you the story of how they had found a map in his office, and they couldn’t wait to show all the secrets pathways it had.

When summer holidays came that year, you ran all the way to the crooked house in which the twins lived, excited to see your best friends again.

And while Fred engulfed your frame in a tight hug, screaming in your ear about everything related to Hogwarts, George knelt in front of you, a playful grin plastered on his face.

“Hello my princess.”

That ticklish feeling you felt when playing with George came back to you, this time making you feel warm and giddy.  

You had never thought much about which house you’d like to be placed in, but since becoming friends with the Weasley twins you knew you wanted to be with them in Gryffindor, maybe as much as they wanted you to be with them.

But when the hat screamed the name of Ravenclaw, and the blue crowd exploded in cheers, you send a sad look in their direction, silently apologizing for something you didn’t have control over. Fred send you a reassuring smile, while George made his best effort to pretend that he wasn’t annoyed with you not being with him.

Even though you wanted to be a Gryffindor, soon you fell in love with the house of the eagle. Blue became your safe color and you became good friends with your roommates, although they weren’t nearly half funny as the twins.

You wished you had more time to spend with them, but the difference of lessons and schedules made it hard to even say a word to them. There were days you didn’t get to see a hair of that vibrant red you liked so much. It made you sad, but you learned to live with it.

It wasn’t until the middle of the school year that you could enjoy a short time with your best friends.

The three of you had come with the plan of spending the day near the lake to see if one of you could spot the giant squid. Throwing all kind of stuff into the lake, trying to get the creature to show even a small piece of him.

He never did, but it was the most fun you have had in your whole year. You were happy to spend time with Fred and George, that was enough.

Years passed, and through differences and struggles, you found a way to maintain your friendship with the twins, to find a way to keep George close to you as you understood that that ticklish feeling he gave you was the love you held for him.

It wasn’t hard to accept your crush on George. It was too normal, too familiar to feel uncomfortable with it. But you didn’t have the guts to tell him about it.

You spent your years watching him grow, seeing you as nothing more than a friend, no matter how many times he’d look for a subtle way to touch you, to call you his princess or just be with you. You were oblivious to his feelings just as much.

Fred had to watch you both dance around your feelings, smiling softly at the tender moments you two shared when you though he wasn’t looking.

When your sixth year came and neither George nor you talked about the elephant in the room, Fred decided that that was enough. He was tired of listening to you two ramble about the other to him.

He had a plan, which had to be cancelled when his father was attacked in the middle of the night and his siblings and him had to go away, leaving you behind.

It felt like an endless night, seated at Gimmauld place without knowing about their dad. The Weasley siblings didn’t have space for another thing in their minds than their family. But you were family to them too.

The next day, when they came back from St. Mungos, George practically ran to you when he saw you waiting for them in the house.

You held him tightly, thanking silently that he was okay, that everything had turned out well at the end. But George was only one of your best friends. Without letting him go, you opened your eyes, looking directly at Fred as you opened one arm for him too. He ran to you and let some tears fall on your shoulder.

You spent Christmas with the Weasleys, making your best efforts to make them smile and ease the sadness. You were no hero; you just wanted the people you loved to have a nice Christmas.

And fairly they did. Mr. Weasley was back by the time you celebrated the holiday, and it felt like home.

You tried not to think much about it when George intertwined your fingers with his while eating, instead, you gave a caress to the back of his hand, accepting his touch.

“Thank you for staying” He told you later that night “Not only for Fred and I, but for everyone”

Your hands were still holding each other’s, and you smiled softly at them. “It was my pleasure my knight” You answered, watching as smile grew on George at the nickname. “Besides, if we were to get married, this is as well my family. I must take care of them too.” You remembered him the words he had said to you many years ago.

“Then, I shall marry you as soon as possible my princess.”

If he could, he would have married you right there in the spot, but this was only an inside joke, born from the innocent promise of a kid. It didn’t mean anything, no matter how much you both wanted it too.

You shuffled closer to him, finding a nest to rest your head in the crook of his neck, while he embraced you tightly.

The both of you were so focused on your feelings that no one noticed Fred’s mischievous smile, nor the light enchantment he was casting over your heads. A beautiful mistletoe growing from his wand, falling delicately on you both.

When the enchantment was finished, Fred laughed to himself. He turned around and walked upstairs, leaving you two behind with only one way to leave the room.

As cozy as you were with George, you knew you had to go back to your room with Ginny. Being as quiet as not to disturb him much, you moved away, or you tried to. Something invisible was stopping you.

You looked around in vain, no one close enough to blame or to ask what was going on, until you looked up and noticed the beautiful plant.

Your throat went dry immediately.

“George” You called him. “George, wake up!” Shaking his body as to waking him up from his sleep.

He smiled fondly when you were the first thing he saw, but your confused expression made him frown. “What’s wrong, love?” He asked, straightening himself from the couch, not going much far. “What’s this?”

You didn’t say anything, only pointing your finger to where the mistletoe was placed. Right above you both.

He understood right away and blushed wildly at the meaning.  

“W-we don’t have to… I mean, we kind of have to if we want out but… If you don’t want to…” He stuttered his words.

“I want to!” You said immediately, not flinching nor thinking much about it.

Realization fell upon you when you heard yourself. That was not smooth, and if you could, you would’ve have ran as far away as possible.

George saw you blushing deeply, your eyes watering from embarrassment and how uncomfortable you looked. You said you wanted to, but maybe because you didn’t know how to turn him down.

Was it possible that you despised the idea of kissing him? He had to swallow the knot in his throat and ignore the shattering in his heart.

“I understand you don’t want to kiss someone like me, but can you at least pretend I’m someone else and go through it? I’d like to get out of here.” George explained, his eyes avoiding you.

Did he think you didn’t want to kiss him? Someone like him?

“What do you mean by “someone like me”?” You asked, anger growing in you. “How is someone like you? God, you can be so daft sometimes George Weasley.” The tears of anger falling from you. “Someone like you?! You know what? I’d love to kiss someone like you. I’ve been dreaming about kissing someone like you, I’ve been thinking of how wonderful it would feel to kiss you George.”

His name slipped easily between your lips. So normal, so comfortable that you didn't even noticed it. But he did.

It was your turn to know how deep he adored you.

The gentle knight you had fallen for was gone. The man in front of you was wearing a fierce determination while holding your face in his hands and stamping your lips together.

A pick on the lips would’ve been enough to break the spell, but he kept the kiss going. He was the one leading you, making you open your mouth with a caress from his tongue, his lips moving heavenly against yours.

As much as you had imagined a kiss with him, nothing was as good as a real one. He kissed your whole body in one, giving you the chills, making your legs tremble from the intensity and the passion.

You had to separate when your lungs were burning for air.

“Someone like me, someone who loves you dearly, my princess.”

[sirenswhispers]

Train Confessions

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Summary: What could you possibly need more than a warm drink and George's company on a train?

Word Count: 1.6k

A/N: Enjoy this little fic I wrote on the train yesterday and hopefully, you'll love it as much as I loved writing it.

Masterlist

The rumbling of a moving train echoed in the back of your mind and occasional whistles would cause you to look up from the pages of your book and admire the ever changing scenery of endless meadows, ancient lakes and obscure tunnels. The racing speed blended the greens, yellows and blues into one unearthly painting, and you gratefully took a sip of your cup of coffee, leaning back into your seat. That single moment was frozen in time, infinite and welcoming, and it provided familiar security and tranquility. Nothing else mattered but the wheels of the train as they tirelessly and eagerly lead you back to Hogwarts.

You snuggled further into your zipper sweatshirt, internally cussing at yourself for only wearing a t-shirt underneath. Autumn had slowly and unnoticeably crept into London, turning the fresh green leaves golden and bringing chilling cold.

You lifted the warm cup towards your lips.

"Is it taken?"

You looked up from your drink to see none other than George Weasley, hands in his pockets and a lazy grin resting on his features.

You gestured toward the empty seat in front of you, "Go ahead."

He happily sat down and you closed your book, putting it aside. You had a few seconds to take George in - you couldn't recall memories of him wearing a beige turtleneck before; the sleeves clung tightly to his fairly muscled biceps, a result of his position as a beater, and the color highlighted his joyous brown eyes. His messy, longer than usual ginger hair did not help either; it seemed as if he hadn't cut it in about a month and some stubborn pieces always fell on his forehead no matter how many times he ran hands through his hair to smooth it back.

"Sorry if I'm interrupting," George apologized half-heartedly, gaze flickering toward your closed book. "I didn't realise you were reading."

"Dont worry about it." You waved your hand dismissively. "I kept getting distracted anyway. Been trying to read this one paragraph for the past fifteen minutes."

The sweet voice of an elderly waitress pulled you out of your conversation. 

"Anything to drink, dear?" she asked, referring to George.

He glanced at your coffee cup on the table, and gave the waitress a nod and a polite smile.

"Same as the lady."

The waitress returned his smile with one of her own, and walked away, leaving you alone once again.

"So," you began, leaning your elbows on the table and resting your head on your open palms, "what, if may I ask, brought you here, Weasley?"

George snorted at the nickname, but replied anyway.

"Well..." he dragged out, stretching out his arms and leaning back on his chair. "I was looking for some peace and quiet."

"Peace and quiet?" you raised an eyebrow at the unusual statement, said by the most unlikely person possible. "No offense, but are you okay?"

Your sarcasm made the redhead let out a chuckle. "Never was to begin with, darling. But Ron's getting all bitter 'cause Fred beat him in this muggle game of cards that Hermione showed them. Bloke lost 5 galleons. Real madness going on there, I had to get away. Good thing there's a bar wagon on the Express."

An image of an angry Ron, a cocky Fred and a worried Hermione arguing flashed in your mind, and you couldn't help but laugh.

"You guys should go easier on him, you know. Cut the poor boy some slack."

This only caused George's grin to grow wider and he shook his head.

"Not a chance."

Silence fell over you for a brief moment, allowing you to take a step back and take it all in; England was certainly most beautiful in autumn, and the soft rhythmical cluttering and clanging in the background perfectly synced with your heartbeat. You decided to let go of the leash and allow life to take its course; no matter what happened, you would be okay.

George's soothing, slightly hoarse voice brought you back to reality.

"So what is this lady doing here on her own?"

You realised you had probably been staring out the window for quite a bit, and you could tell by the dreamy look on the redhead's face that he had been observing you for just as long.

You fought the urge to smile too hard and instead grabbed your cup.

"I was craving, you know-" you motioned to the view outside and took a small sip, a mysterious spark in your eyes. "-some peace and quiet."

The corners of George's mouth curled up in a secretive smirk, matching your own, and he licked his lips.

"Seems like we're looking for the same."

His eyes lingered on you for a bit longer than you'd expected, scanning over figure in a way that made you shift in your seat.

In that moment George's coffee arrived, delicious steam emitting from the cup in light puffs. He thanked the waitress and turned his attention back to you.

"So what brought you here? Or are you going to keep your secrets?"

You shrugged and crossed your legs. "Dunno. I guess I really needed some kind of escape for a bit too." Your gaze wandered off into the woods beyond your window. "Nothing much to tell."

George's fingers wrapped around his warm cup and brought it to his mouth, but before he drank, he muttered.

"I'd say quite the opposite."

Your head snapped in his direction and by your confused expression George could tell countless questions were burning on the tip of your tongue. However, he only replied with his signature smirk and took a sip.

You decided to follow his lead and mirrored his gesture. Your coffee had already become cool, but you had no problem with it, your friend's company warming you up more than the tasty drink.

"So, what's your book about?"

"You know me." You explained simply. "Some supernatural stuff, fights for justice, love..."

"Love, eh?" George questioned, suddenly way more intrigued. He moved closer, eyes boring into yours expectantly. "What are your views on love, Miss Confidential?"

You were taken aback by his straightforwardness and despite the heat rising to your cheeks, you tried your best to answer.

"Well..." you fiddled with your fingers, voice trembling ever so slightly. "Love is definitely an incredibly strong emotion. It inspires people and it has the ability to change them for the better... But, since it's so powerful, it can also make them do reckless things, drive them insane. 

"It fascinates me how love has been the cause of countless historical conflicts, how disastrous it can be. I guess that's why..." you trailed off, throat tightening. "That's why many people are afraid of falling in love."

"Are you?"

You froze.

All the air around you seemed to not be enough.

Your thoughts were clanking like the metal wheels of the train, and suddenly one of them stood out.

Were you?

Your instincts screamed at you to run, but you stood there, glued to your chair with a blank expression.

George had been focused on you the entire time; he did not miss the way your body tensed up, the way your eyes widened like those of a frightened deer. And his stare made you way too self-aware.

You exhaled.

"Yes."

George's gaze softened. Its demanding and eager look had been replaced by worry, regret and what you thought you had mistaken for longing. His features relaxed which allowed you to do the same, but alas, your heart continued hammering like mad.

After a moment of thinking, George spoke gently.

"It's alright. There's no rush."

He took your hand from across the table and caressed your knuckles with his thumb.

"You don't owe anything to anyone. Take your time. And if you ever happen to fall, I promise I'll be there to catch you."

Your heart stopped its racing pace and instead swelled with feelings you had been trying to avoid for as long as you could. But this time you welcomed them; you didn't deny or push them away like you had taught yourself to. You allowed yourself to feel.

George's comforting presence put you at ease and for once you let it envelop you like a warm blanket. No more running.

You expressed your gratitude with a small smile which he gladly returned and gave your hand a gentle squeeze.

Muffled commotion from the next wagon caused you to look up at the clock on the wall and you declared, disappointed.

"We should be there soon. We need to get ready."

George frowned. Never had he wished this badly to have known a time-stopping charm. He longed to have this moment frozen, hanging on his wall for him to cherish and look at as much as possible.

However, he put on a smile, one less mischievous than usual and more sincere; one he didn't show very often. It made your insides twist with bittersweet pain and desire, it completely blocked out any noise and pierced right through your being, leaving you exposed. You tightened your sweatshirt around your body.

"Well," George began, eyes burning with wild, nearly scandalous intensity, and your mouth went dry, "in case you happen to be looking for some peace and quiet again, you know where to find me."

@self-ship-love @susceptible-but-siriusexual @neovannii @hufflexpuff

Message me if you'd like to be tagged!

Likes don't help me grow, please reblog my work if you enjoyed it!

Masterlist

[sirenswhispers]

Four Times Fred Weasley Proposed to You... And the One Time He Meant It (Fred Weasley x Reader)

Harry Potter - Fred Weasley x fem!Reader

Summary: The title says it all. Just read it ;)

Wordcount: 4.7k (I’m trash)

Warnings: fluff, sex, cursing - basically my holy trinity, and AU where Fred lives (which is the only universe I live in) 

Masterlist

A/N: Toddle started daycare yesterday and I learned that I churn out about 1k worlds per hour if I don’t have a kid crawling on me. Today is also my wedding anniversary for fluff felt right. A request from anon! 

I.

The candles floating high under the vaulted ceiling are the only things that don’t shake with the uproar of cheers, especially from the seventh years, that accompany Dumbledore’s announcement of return of the Triwizard Tournament. Fred bumps elbows with his twin, whom he simply knows is already conspiring to rig this thing in their favor. Fame, glory, prize money – everything they need to set themselves up for success is being presented on a golden platter – or rather in a wooden goblet. But they don’t have the opportunity to conspire before the room falls hush at the gentle lowering of Dumbledore’s willowy arms.

“Please join me in welcoming the students of Beauxbaton Academy of Magic and their headmistress Madame Maxine,” Dumbledore’s voice bellows, but to Fred it is but a whisper. The doors to the Great Hall have already opened and towards the front of the group of impressively dressed students, their jackets pristinely fitted and their skirts flared in a way that hints so nicely at the shapely things that certainly reside beneath them. Fred’s baser brain, the part that, as a sixteen year old, gives power and life to many of his higher-level functions, completely takes over. His eyes roam the group, landing on a stunning creature, third from the left whose straightened back, bright smile, and flushed face from the chill of the castle night are enough to make his mouth grow dry and his palms sweat with anticipation. 

But then you begin your dance – if it could even be called a dance. You skip forward like an elegant ballerina, your neck tall and your chest out the way a swan might look upon the lesser creatures within its pond, elegant but superior. And Fred minds not one bit being the scum that lines your lakeside domain. With light steps you descend upon the Great Hall, down the path on which he sits. And as you grow closer, you open your hands, releasing blue mist and butterflies upon the crowd, like a siren singing a song to lure in the ships at sea. 

A few more pranced steps and you are standing right beside him. He watches with baited breath as your skirts flow and twist. You lean forward with special flourish, flicking your wrists and humming in unison with your cohort. Your fingers lightly brush against Fred’s cheek as he ebbs closer in rapture. 

“Marry me,” he whispers, which draws your eyes away from the front of the hall to meet the man sitting right beside you. A simple turn of his head has his lips gently brushing against your fingertips and the piercing of his cinnamon eyes catches your breath in your chest. You miss your next step, so beguiled by this handsome man before you, broad and freckled and just the teeniest bit unobtainable in the way that confidence seems to radiate off him. 

Seguir leyendo

[sirenswhispers]

When people says that british guys are ugly, have u ever saw this men??

they are a piece of art and nobody can refuse that.

[sirenswhispers]

The night of the wedding

N/A Hello! So, this is my first attempt to write a long, complicated but hopeful worthy text in English. English is not my mother language, but I'm trying to practice more. And as I love writing, Fred Weasley and romance, here's me trying to give you something to read. Hope you like. Feel free to point at mistakes or anything you feel like it doesn't fit in. And thank you for reading if you take your time.

Fred Weasley x Reader

That was the night of Bill and Fleur's wedding. You had arrived early, to help Fleur, Hermione and the Weasley girls to be ready.

The first to welcome you was Fred, which was not surprise for anybody. They already knew the sparks that flew between you two. Molly herself was waiting for the day to come when you two would finally announce you were together.

Fred opened his arms for you, and you didn't waste a second to run into them and embrace him tightly while we softly kissed your forehead. It felt like flying meters away without the need of your broomsticks.

But soon Hermione came to take you in a rush. It seem like Fleur needed little help and Ginny, Molly and her weren't enough to calm her down.

You took one final glance at the readhead boy and say some quick 'Hellos' to the others as you and Hermione passed by.

Later that day, after Bill and Fleur had had their dance, and Hermione gave you a thumbs up, you went looking for Fred.

This was the night. This was the night you would tell him about those annoying butterflies that appeared in your stomach everytime you lock eyes, or laugh together or simply stand one beside the other.

You knew the war was approaching, and being aware of the consequences it might bring along, you didn't want silence to be one of them.

So with the small amount of courage you had reunited the past week, you took Fred's hand as soon as you had spotted him and dragged him out of the party, close to the back of the building.

The music became a whisper compared to your heartbeats.

"What is it y/n?" Fred asked, his hands moving up and down in your arms. A look of curiosity settled in his face.

You let out a sigh and put you hands on his, intertwining fingers.

"My mom would always tell me that if you take someone's hands and feel as if they'd been created to fit perfectly into each other's, that's when you'd know."

You didn't bring yourself to look away from your hands. Those words were stuck in your head since the day Fred and you had ran hand in hand away from Severus back in fifth year. The first time you hold hands, that day you started to realize your feelings about your best friend.

"You'd know what?" Asked Fred, as low as possible, only for you and him, even though no one else could hear anything from the distance. "You'd know you would have found the one for you" After those words, you lifted your eyes to his.

They looked like star. Sparkling with amazement and something else you were afraid to say out loud, afraid to get mistaken about.

"Love" He called you. His hands ran up your arms,  stroking every inch of skin until they'd reached your rosy cheeks. You couldn't say if they were rossy because of the cold or because of the boy in front of you. "Love, tell me that you love me if that's what you're trying to say, because I don't want to kiss you without being sure of it."

A kiss. You've been waiting for that since the yule ball, to which you both attended as friends wanting to be something else.

" Frederick Weasley... I'm trying to tell you that I love you"

And as soon as those words were said, your mouth was shut in a kiss. At the begging soft, sweet as the taste of chocolate, and then angry, as if he was trying to give all those kisses that were lost in time in one.

He barely had the strength to pull away for a minute to say: "I love you too" and kissed you back. Not planning on wasting more time that you already had.

I can assure you the moon and the stars were beautiful that night, but what truly outstanded was the couple kissing away from the party, away from the people and their fear and their hate. They were shining with only their love.

Until green lights and screams filled the space, and the couple ran back to the tend to start the fight. Hand on hand.

[sirenswhispers]

Funny smell.

N/A: So.. There's this thing I wrote, uhum. That I hope you like, because damn I enjoyed writing it. Still an amateur, but anyway. Thank you for reading, hope you have a wonderful day! (High five if you also read "wonderful" in Emma's voice) (Maybe I'm just crazy, so don't mind me)

Fred Weasley x Reader

Weasley's Wizard Wheezes looked even better than the boys described in their letter. The shop stood in front of you as you had imagined it to be: all colorful, bright and outstanding. Inviting anyone who passed in front of it to take a look inside. You felt yourself fill with pride.

And after entering the shop, you needed more words to express how proud you truly were. From the floor to the ceiling, all kind of products were at the view of many customers. There was no space for one more thing. If the twins wanted to add one little thing, they'll need an expanding spell.

"George" The name slipped your lips as soon as you spotted a red point on the stairs. After so many years, you could easily tell each other appart. After so many years and a couple of feelings you had grown for the oldest twin.

George turned on his feets in the blink of an eye, a huge smile on his lips "(y/n)! " he shouted back.

Your legs were already running and zigzagging through people to jump over him.

"The shop is amazing! Oh God! George, your letter didn't even describe half of how wonderful the shop is!" you felt him chuckle in your arms.

"We wanted to save the best of the best for your pretty little eyes. How else would've we been sure of you coming to see it?" He joked.

"Don't be a git, you knon I would've came anyway" You needed to stretch your neck in order to see his face "Now, where's your other half?"

"If he heard me scream your name, then he most than sure is tripping down the stairs from our flat. Just wait and see"

And as he said, some muffled noises started to sound right upstairs. Strong steps rushing over until another ginger appeared in your sight.

You could hardly see his face, but knowing he was close was enough for your heart to start its maniatic act.

He was bumping into people just to speed his moves. And even though you were focused on him, you felt how George started loose his gripe on you. Not letting the smile go off.

"Fred.." you could say no more as another pair of arms lifted you from the floor. And a cautivating smell filled your nosetrils.

Frederick Weasley.

"Oh little star, how I missed you!" He tried to speak, but as his face was pressed against your hair, it came out more like a mumble.

"A couple of weeks and you couldn't deal with my absence,huh Freddie?" He chuckled at that.

Both of you knew that hug was getting longer by the second, but truth was neither of you wanted to break it. Until a running kid brushing against Fred almost made you fall.

For security, better with both feets on the ground.

"The store is... I mean... I'm speechless" You trumble to say and the twins laughed.

"Good to know we finally managed to took the words out of you." George said.

They were busy at the moment, you could tell. So many kids running around, buying any kind of trick to use this summer and the boys had to attend every customer. After a couple of words, you let the guys know you'd talk after closing. In the meanwhile, you'd be walking around to see those new inventions.

And as you walked around the store, time passed quick.

You were at the Love Potion's set when the last kid had left the store and the twins were coming to you.

"Always my favorite. You know me a sucker for crazy kind of love" You said as you saw them close enough.

"And yet never brave enough to use it on someone" The irony of the words let you know without looking that the words had came from George.

George always knew the big fat crush you had on his twin. Although, it was kind of obvious.

You could only sigh.

"Oh, what was that? A boy in your head making you lose your breath?" George kept talking, trying to make you conscious of the boy with the curious face looking at you. Fred.

"Do you like someone?" Fred asked in a tiny voice.

"Didn't you know dear brother? For some time by now."

You didn't know how, but you were about to shut George down.

"Enough George" You mumbled. Of course he acted deaf.

"Why don't we try to find out this very misterious boy?" As he spoke, his arms stretched to grab one of the pink bottles.

Goddammit George!

He opened to bottle with only a move from his thumb and put the smelly potion right in front of you.

"Do tell us... What is it that you smell, little star?"

How to get away from that? And looking at that frown on Fred, you could easily say he wanted to know. Badly.

Lying wasn't an option, since you were in front of Hogwart's biggest pranksters ever. And your two best friends, they would know.

But as many late years Fred never found out about your crush. Maybe he wouldn't be able to notice one more time?

Who did you want to fool? You wanted him to know. Deep inside, you were thanking George for making you. It was about time.

You took a breath before leaning your nose to the bottle.

"I smell... Grass... Fresh grass, and something sweet, like candy" Fred eyes narrowed at you, but you kept talking "A funny smell like Filibuster firework powder. Very strong." Your eyes raised up to Fred's, just to notice a spark swimming in those beautiful eyes.

"How funny, I could say you were describing me. But there's one thing, I don't eat as many candies as Fred does."

And something snapped. Fred's eyes opened in realization. Staring right at you.

Your palms started to get sweaty, and your heart was pounding heavily in your ears. He knew now.

He knew and there was not going back.

George's softly laughs echoed in the empty shop, and then his steps walking away.

There were only you and Fred now.

"Fred..." You called his name in a whisper.

No smile, no movement. He was frozen, making you want to shake him back to reality.

"Fred" You called him stronger, but not enough.

You snapped your fingers in front of him. Nothing. Pinched his shoulder. Nothing. Whistle to him. Nothing.

Then you put your hand on his right cheek. It felt warm at your touch. You put your other hand on his left cheek. And his hand took over it.

His eyes were on you, shining with something new. Something even a witch couldn't describe.

And he leaned closer. Didn't stop until his lips brushed yours.

A delicate kiss that made your heart go silent. Made your body get closer to his. His arms wrapping tightly around you. Holding you from fainting right there at that delightful taste.

His tongue drew a line on your lips, and you gladly opened your mouth to welcome a deeper taste of the kiss.

Walking backwards till you hit the shelves, something fell over but none of you care. Too drunk of the kiss to care.

But your lungs were burning for air. And there was a talk longing between you two. So you broke back. Only enough to count the freckles on his nose.

He kept his eyes closed for a little longer, and when he opened them, the whole world stopped.

"I've been waiting to do this, since fourth year. More than three years thinking this would always remain as a dream, and now. Now it's real"

That was even better than what you expected him to say.

[sirenswhispers]

A year

N/A: Well, hello again. I’m here with a new imagine, or one shot? I’m not sure what this is, but I swear it’s something you can read. I just wanted to write something about our boy George, he derves a lot of love. Anyway, here’s something you can read and I hope you enjoyed. Love you already, whoever read this. Oh, yeah, one last thing. I decided to cut the story there, but if you want to know what happened after… Just tell me, maybe I can write it… or maybe not. We’ll see.

George Weasley x Reader

She loved the smell of powder, because he always smelled like that. Pressing her nose deeper in his neck, she sniffed his scent better.

“Woman, are you smelling me?” The voice of George Weasley sounded in the room “Yes” She answered, still with her nose pressed against his neck.

He smelled so good. She sighed, happy to be tangled in a bed with his favorite redhead.

The hot breath that collided against George’s skin caused a million of butterflies to erupt in his stomach, he was doomed by this girl.

And she was a Slytherin.

Never in his wildest dreams would he had thought to fall for a Slytherin.  

Did he regret falling for a Slytherin? No, he didn’t.

Not even when the girl in his arms, the girl who he’d like to take home and call her his, didn’t belong to him.

“You know” he began, and the girl raised her head to have a better view of the lopsided grin he always had.

He wasn’t smiling this time, and that was a bad sign.

Dreading what he was about to suggest, she moved away from his body, missing the warm embrace just a second later.

“George, we’ve been over this. I told you from the begging, I have no option” His eyes lost the light as soon as her words hit him. “I have to marry him”

“No, you don’t” He declared, raising his voice just a little higher. But enough for her heart to start breaking.

“You don’t have to” He continued.

He sat on the bed, grabbing her hands in his, pulling her closer.

“Don’t marry him. You don’t have to, that’s what your parents want, not you” He was right, he was right and that hurt.

She didn’t have his bravery to stand up to her parents. She wished she could, she wished she could just tell her parents she was completely and helplessly in love with the ginger boy in front of her, but her parents would never allow it.

The Weasleys were traitors.

“George, stop. You’re just making things harder” She cried out, hot tears starting to fall from her eyes.

Her ginger boy swiped those tears away with kisses. The feeling of his lips on her face was calming enough.

“No” He said. “You just have to say yes and you wouldn’t have to marry him. Say yes”

His words didn’t make sense. Say yes to what? He continued spreading kisses all over her face, not paying attention to her confused expression.

“What do you mean?” She asked, slightly closing her eyes when the lips of the ginger boys kissed the spot close to her mouth.

“Marry me” One last kiss was given to her lips after he talked.

Silence fell over them. His hands still cupping her face. Was it real? Did he just asked her to marry him?

George Weasley asked her to marry him.

Suddenly, a scream erupted from her, startling the boy. She would be glad, honored to become his wife. She wanted to be with him the rest of her life, she wanted to wake him up with kisses and say goodnight after making love. It was her perfect dream.

She was about to say yes, until her eyes met his. His eyes full of mischief and wonder, always filled with adoration when he looked at her.

She wanted to say yes, but she couldn’t.

George Weasley had fallen in love with a brave, reckless girl. A girl who didn’t hesitate to prank him and his twin when she saw the opportunity. He fell in love with a girl that wasn’t her.

“No” She answered in a whisper.

His hands fell from her face, and when she saw his face, she noticed that his expression was filled with disappointment.

“I can’t” She said “At least, not yet.”

Just as he had done before, she grabbed his hands, a gave a tender kiss to every knuckle. She loved just one man, and if that man wanted to marry her, she would become the girl she was supposed to be for him. And for her as well.

“Give me a year” She watched him frown “In a year, go to Diagon Alley. I’ll find you there, I promise. And you’ll have a yes.”

She pecked his lips as goodbye, before putting her clothes on and walk towards the door. Turning around to face him one more time, she said her last words.

“Forgive me, but for now I just can tell you that I love you.”

And then she exited from the room and from his life, for a year.

George Weasley fell onto the mattress, a million questions running through his head. He was sure of only one thing; he’d miss her like hell for 365 days.

.

She stood in front of her parents. Her mother looked as stunning as ever, hand in hand with his father, who wore the same frown of every day.

It hadn’t been long since she had arrived to her house, officially graduated from Hogwarts. She hadn’t seen or heard a thing from George, but she was good with that. If she wanted to change, she had to do it herself. No one telling her what to do.

“Mom, dad. There’s a matter we must discuss tonight.”

She had a plan, of course she had one. Her suitcase was waiting for her right beside the entrance, packed with everything she needed and incantated with an expanding charm.

“Tell us” His father didn’t even take the time to look at her, which was good. Otherwise she’d be frozen in her place.  

Shallowing hard, she remembered her ginger boy. How she would play with his fiery hair while kissing and the rosy cheeks he always had in a winter day. Yes, she was doing this for them.

Because she deserved to be happy with him.

And she was a Slytherin, for Merlin’s sake.

“I’m not marrying anyone”

That was it, she had the total attention from her parents now. Not allowing herself to tremble or shutter, she carried on.

“Well, actually I am marrying someone, just not who you want to.”

By now her mother had to sit down, too shocked to stand. His father, on the other hand, looked like he was about to yell at her.

But before he could open his mouth, she spoke again.

“I’m leaving the house. I know you wouldn’t be able to carry the shame of your only daughter marrying a Weasley.” She spoke, her voice filled with disappointment.  

Her parents were once her everything. They always treated her right, and gave her everything she wanted. Her mother used to bake cookies for her when she was a child, and her father would tell her stories every night.

It broke her heart that they would rather kick her out of the house before letting her marry the man she truly loved.

Because even if she hadn’t seen their reaction, she knew her parents well. They’d be better without her and George.

“I’m sorry that this didn’t go like you planned. I’m sorry I have to go because you prefer to believe in pure blood than in love. I’m sorry I’d miss you even when you will try to erase my existence from your lives.”

Not being able to hold the tears any longer, she left. She walked away, grabbed her things and apparated to a place not so far away from her parents.

The sweet lady with who she would share her new apartment with was already waiting for her with a cup of steaming tea.

For now, she was her only family. And her new boss too.

In the days after Hogwarts, she had been looking for work. She needed to maintain herself now that she didn’t have her parents, so when she had found a little tea shop and knew that they were hiring, she didn’t hesitate to ask for the job.

As it seemed that nobody else wanted the spot, she had had it rather quickly. And when Helga, the sweet woman who owned the shop heard her story and plan, she offered her a place to live as well.

Of course, her new apartment also meant a lower payment, but she was okay with it. She didn´t need much, and there were only 300 more days ahead of her before seeing his warm eyes again.

.

When 364 days had passed, George Weasley was barely containing the excitement of being with her love again. He was ready to greet her with a big kiss, put a ring on her finger and take her with him to the flat he shared with his twin.

His twin, on the other hand, was about to knock him out if he said her name one more time. Yes, he was happy his brother and a good woman would be happy and together as they were in love, but he also needed peace after a day full of work and kids running around the shop.

“George, stop pacing around or you’d create a hole in the floor.” He said but his brother kept walking from side to side “Brother, don’t make me grab my wand and cast immobulus on you. I mean it”

He stopped at the menace. But instead of pacing, he then began to jump from feet to feet.

“George! Just go to sleep, you’d see her soon.” Yelled his twin before locking himself in his room.

Soon was not soon enough!

.

The store was crowded. She had told George she’d find him today because she had known, from the second he told her about his dreams, that he’d be able to open his shop. And knowing Fred, the store would have something very outstanding in it. Like a big replica of the twins greeting the clients from the entrance.

She smiled at the view, she wished she could see every corner of the shop right away, but there would be plenty of time for that later.

For now, she just wanted to give a long and wet kiss to her fiancé.

Entering the shop was like entering a colorful and noisy world. She couldn’t even hear her own thoughts, and how was she suppose to find George in all that mass of people?

Deciding that standing there wasn’t helpful, she started to walk around.

How many redheads were in the store? And why was everyone as tall as Fred and George were suddenly?

She was starting to get annoyed. People kept coming in and out of her zone of view, none of them being her ginger boy.

Losing her temper with every new face she met in her way, she was about to scream when a lopsided smile caught her attention.

The he was, smiling like he always did.

She pushed through the people before he could disappear again.

“George!” She screamed just a few steps away from him.

He’d never forget her voice. She was here, she was here! He wanted to run and find her.

“Don’t you dare move! I’ve been looking for you this last hour and I’m not about to lose you out of sight again.” He heard her scream and planted both feet on the ground.

Not even blinking.  

The woman he loved could be very scary when people didn’t listen to her.

He didn’t know he was giving her his back until she jumped over it. Crossing her legs with him trapped between them.      

“Yes. I will marry you” She told him in a whisper, giving his ear a kiss from behind.

His body got warm at her action. A year without her touch just made him suppress his desire to take her to bed with him.

Grabbing his legs so she wouldn’t move from his back, George started walking in the direction of the stairs. Ready to greet her properly in his room.

“Where are we going?” She asked, a fake tone of innocence accompanying her words.

“I’ve waited a year for you, it’s time I get my reward” She chuckled and leaned closer to his ear “I thought the reward was marrying me and being able to make me love everyday as your wife”

He stood still, that sounded even better. Taking a new direction, he turned around.

“Where are we going now?” She asked, happy to finally be with him.

He didn’t answer. Not that she cared much, she was with him now, wherever they’d go together was perfect.

Only when they passed by Fred she discovered what he was thinking about.

“Fred, I’m on my way to getting marry. Close the door and meet us in The Burrow.”

Neither Fred or her could say something else before George apparated with her. A very unstably looking house being in her sight, very tall and very…

“Unique” Was all she said.

“Soon to be Mr. Weasley, I’m proud to present you The Burrow, humble home of the wonderful Weasley family.” He let go of her legs and she jumped off him, grabbing his hand instead.

“I’m about to meet you mother?” She asked in a tiny voice.

Fred and George would always talk about their mother with love, only saying good things about her and her cooking. It was easy to tell how much George loved his mother, and it made her anxious to meet the most important person of her fiancé’s life.

She gulped.

“Are you sure this is the right time?” He chuckled “If I’m marrying you tomorrow, and you have to meet your mother-in-law before the wedding… yes, this is the right time, Love.”

She gulped again; this time stronger.

Sensing her fiancé was nervous, George pulled her hand in a kiss.

“Don’t worry love, she already loves you.” She looked at him in surprise.

He told her mother about her? That warmed her heart.

They hadn’t even greeted each other properly yet. Thinking about that and with her heart filled with the warmth of his words, she took a little jump to connect their lips.

Just like the first time, the kiss gave her goosebumps and electric sensations. Oh, how she had missed kissing him.

Deciding they had some time before entering, he pulled her closer by her waist, tracing the shape of her lower lip with his tongue, taking in her sweet taste.

The taste cherry she always had.

They pulled apart, and with their hands intertwined, they entered the house.

Molly Weasley loved her daughter-in-law from the minute she saw her come into the house, hand in hand with his son, who was wearing the biggest smile she had seemed him with yet. That was all she needed to know about the girl; that she made her son a happy man.

[sirenswhispers]

I'm crying non-stop in the middle of the night for Molly, Fred and George. NON-STOP.

“and i will leave a light on.”

one day, molly is up late, completing her household chores before bed. she is headed to her bedroom. she notices a familiar light coming from George’s room. What in merlin’s name is he coming up with at this hour?

she climbs up the stairs, and heads into the corridor, ready to yell at her boy for staying so late. ‘boys will be boys,’ she sighs.

instead, as she peaks into the room, she finds George fast asleep on his bunk, as single candle burning by his bedside table.

“George, dear what are you doing? You know we can’t leave the candles on at night! You’re going to burn the house down!” she scolds him.

George, still in his sleep, mumbles a reply.

“What? I can’t hear you, dear.” she says, stepping closer in order to put out the candle.

George turns in his sleep, now facing his mother. “ Fred doesn’t like the dark, Mum. Honestly woman, you call yourself our mother.”

Since George’s eyelids are closed, he doesn’t see the expression of grief overtake Molly’s features. Her eyes threaten her with tears, as she recalls all those times she scolded the twins for staying up late, as they tinkered away at some new project of theirs. That’s why the candlelight coming from the room seemed familiar, she thought. George and Fred would sneak a light on when their were kids, as Fred insisted he wasn’t fond of the dark.

Standing there, as tears quietly streamed down her face, Molly noticed how the candlelight made George look just like Fred. She gave herself a tearful smile, leaned down to tuck in her son goodnight and left the room. the candle stayed on.

[sirenswhispers]

Reblog if you're gay, lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, asexual, transgender or a supporter.

This should be reblogged by everyone. Even if you’re straight, you should be a supporter.

[sirenswhispers]

me at 8pm: you know im kind of tired maybe i’ll actually get to bed at a reasonable hour like 10 or 11 or something

me at 2 am: