George Weasley X Reader - Blog Posts

HI, IM CLAIRE!

Hey, this is my first post and I'd like to introduce my account!

I want to start writing fanfics and stuff like that; these are some of the people/fandoms I'd write:

-mcyt

-chuckle sandwich

-CoD (mostly just ghost and könig)

-pen15

-harry potter

-TWD

-riverdale (probably not much tho)

I won't do any incest or dubcon.

Feel free to write requests or anything!

P.s. I'm on moble so idk if that maks any difference ❤️❤️❤️

THIS WAS SOOO BEAUTIFULLY WRITTEN WOWW

The Weight of a Shadow | G.W.

George Weasley has spent his life as one half of a whole, his individuality often lost in the glow of his twin’s boundless charm. Beneath the laughter and mischief lies a quiet struggle, a longing to be seen as more than a shadow. But when you enter his world, something shifts, and for the first time, George finds himself seen, not as a twin, but as a whole. In this universe, you chose him.

Click here to read an alternate universe where you chose Fred instead of George.

𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘 𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚𓆚 𓆘

Fred always seemed to burn just a little brighter. His laugh, bold and wildfire-strong, lingered long after the echo of their pranks had faded. Applause always found him first, the crowd magnetized by his magnetic confidence. Even in quieter moments, it was Fred they gravitated toward—his charm effortless, his presence undeniable.

George would smile through it all, as though the comparisons didn’t sting, but deep within, an ache brewed. A quiet storm he kept to himself.

Maybe it was the way Fred's grin tilted, sharper and more self-assured, or the ease with which his voice commanded attention. Perhaps it was something intangible, something George couldn’t touch even if he tried. Whatever it was, it gnawed at the edges of his heart, a silent weight he carried alone.

And then, there was you.

You arrived one sunlit afternoon, a quiet force with a magic that had nothing to do with spells or wands. Unlike so many others, you didn’t lose yourself in Fred’s blaze. You didn’t mistake George’s laughter for an echo, or his presence for half of a whole. The way your gaze lingered on him felt like sunlight on frozen ground, a warmth he hadn’t realized he’d been yearning for. You saw him. Truly saw him.

At first, George doubted it. Surely, you’d mistaken him for Fred, like so many others had. But you disproved him at every turn. You caught the subtleties. The way George’s humor leaned toward sharp wit, while Fred’s was louder and bolder. The precision in George’s hands as he worked on their inventions, where Fred’s energy was a chaotic whirlwind. You noticed the faint scar above George’s brow, a remnant of a long-ago experiment gone wrong. And when you touched it one day, your fingers brushing the mark with such tenderness that it left him breathless.

For the first time, the ache began to fade. Slowly, it dissolved into something lighter, something warmer. When you laughed at his jokes, it felt like the world cracked open to let the light in. When you spoke his name—just his name—it was a melody that played only for him. And when you reached for his hand, your fingers tangling effortlessly with his, it felt as though the universe had quietly clicked into place.

Fred noticed, of course. He always did. He had been George’s mirror for as long as they had existed, and the change in his twin was impossible to miss. George’s laughter came easier now, his smiles unguarded and brighter. And Fred saw the way you looked at George, with a kind of quiet adoration that pierced straight through his own bravado.

But Fred never spoke of it. Not when George’s smiles grew wider, not when the light in his eyes burned brighter than it had in years. For the first time, George seemed to stand taller, as if the weight of comparisons had finally lifted. And Fred, who had always been the center of attention, found that he didn’t mind stepping back.

One evening, as the sun painted the sky in fiery hues, Fred watched from the doorway as George sat beside you, your head resting gently on his shoulder. There was something in his twin’s expression. A peace Fred hadn’t seen before, as if George had finally found his place in the world.

“You make him happy,” Fred said later, when it was just the two of you in the kitchen. His voice was quieter than usual, lacking its usual bravado. “And that’s all that matters.”

You turned to him with your brow furrowed, searching his face for some trace of resentment or longing. But all you found was warmth, tinged with something unspoken.

“Fred,” you began, but he waved his hand with a grin that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“It’s alright,” he said quickly. “Really. George deserves this. He deserves you.”

And he meant it. Even if there was a small, quiet part of him that ached for something he couldn’t name, Fred would never let it show. For all his charm and bravado, his heart had always been his most closely guarded secret. And in that heart, George’s happiness mattered more than anything else.Still, as he watched you and George from the shadows, a quiet thought took root in his mind — a thought he would never voice aloud. If your opinion mattered so much to George, it mattered just as much to Fred. Perhaps even more.

Smut headcanons: George Weasley.

[Notes: Well, a little love to my man, bless his hands.

Also, I'm sorry if there's any mistakes, english isn't my first language. And I'm sorry for taking so long]

WARNINGS: NSFW! CONTENT, thigh riding, slightly Dom/sub, hand kink (?), sexual innuendo in public (but not so clear), a little vainilla.

Honestly, having sex for George Weasley had never been a priority.

Sure he enjoyed it, but he never found it to be something to get addicted to.

He remembered fifth year, how his friend Lee would throw his head back talking about the wonderful blow job that a girl had given him. It was never like that for him.

Sure he had his tastes and Lee his, but even when he was pulling a girl's hair in sixth year, something he had been dreaming about a few months ago, it didn't feel so great. It was weird, he even thought his friends were pretending how much they liked sex.

But he also knew that he had never loved any girl he had sex with.

So when Fred and George hired you to serve customers in their store, he hung around you for about a year, unable to touch you.

It was unbearable, you stayed away because you didn't want to get involved with someone from work and less a boss as direct as George.

But not being able to touch you drove him crazy. He had to watch you flit all over the place every day, unable to do anything, just look at you and have little talks.

It was no surprise that after a few more in-depth talks in the backstore, you finally said yes to a date and it ended up with the two of you in bed.

That time it was definitely something, the two of them came fast and hard, looking into each other's eyes and forgetting about everything.

It was devastating for George, who soon dragged you into his arms and fell asleep in your bed.

You both didn't get their hands off each other in the morning either, not at breakfast either, and at the end you had a quickie before George rushed to lunch at The Burrow.

Of course when he showed up to his parents' house in yesterday's clothes, wet hair and sparkling eyes Fred couldn't help but laugh out loud and annoy him for the rest of the afternoon.

But he didn't care, he was so caught up in that feeling that there wasn't anything but your walls enveloping him that he hardly noticed.

Almost without hesitation, after lunch and spending a few hours in the company of his family, he returned home and took his time with you.

Well you took your time with him, you rode him looking into his eyes, his hands clenching your thighs and your fingers digging into his hair and pulling every time it was too much.

George wouldn't believe there was a whole world outside of the bed he shared with you.

You looked like the owner of the world while you rode it, with your skin shining and your breast bouncing.

He became a little addicted the first months.

So of course you two had a lot of quickies.

And with that he became a little too touchy.

Kissing your neck and lips while he's passing next to you at work.

Grabbing your hips from behind when you couldn't reach the cabinets to help you get something.

Gently pull the strands of your hair when they tease each other.

Rubbing his crotch with your butt when he had to pass and the hallway was small for both of us (this happened more times than expected).

And holding your hand all the time, if there wasn't a good reason to let you hand go, he wouldn't release your fingers.

The bad and good thing we're that all of this things were things that he did during sex. So you would be at least a little turned on after these.

He also loves teasing you about how wet you are after that.

"How is it that my baby is wet after a little neck kiss? You must be thinking about me all the time."

You would act as if you were really mad, but you would let him drag you into a closet and fingering you to a wonderful release.

You would also love give him a hand job, it just felt the right way with him in your hand, going up and down as you pleased.

Everytime that you would give him a hand job, his own hands wouldn't be still.

He will let his hands grab your hips, then when you got him all nervous, his hands would go up and grab your tits.

He probably needed the support anyway, you loved to mess with him.

And then your wrist, his bin hand around your wrist to stop you when it would be too much.

"That's it, make me cum now or I won't let it feel nice for you."

He never fullfil that warning, he loved too much seeing you orgasm that the opportunity wouldn't be lost, even if you are the one who receives the pleasure.

You two tried a lot of things in bed, not all of them went good, but nothing felt glorious in a way that you couldn't live without it.

One of the things that went good was thigh riding, from both of you.

He loved seeing you riding him, it didn't matter that it wasn't his dick, he loved you riding him in anyway.

And when he was riding your thigh it would be a great view.

He would have to adjust to your position, sometimes crouching down and other times almost standing on his tiptoes.

And the he would be moving his hips, rubbing with his pants still on, on your leg. Sometimes you would unzip them and give him a manual job, other times you would make him cum on his pants.

He was definitely a switch, for the little dom/sub that you both tried.

It was good, but mostly of the time you two wouldn't want to think about an scene, you guys would just want to fuck while getting lost on eachother's eyes.

It was healing for you two having that kind of connection during sex.

You both love it.

⋆⭒˚.⋆💍Paper Rings 💍 ⋆⭒˚.⋆

George Weasley x fem!Reader

You and George have been dating since your 4th year at Hogwarts. Now, both of you are adults, and an inside joke turns into an unforgettable proposal.

The grey clouds covered the sun’s rays, casting subtle shadows on the ground beneath. The smell of rain lingered in the air, mixing with the numerous floral scents from the flower bushes. It was a perfect day. A tall red headed man lay in front of you on a gingham blanket. George Weasley, your boyfriend of eight years, had planned a surprise picnic for you. Sweets from honey dukes, bottles of butter beer and freshly prepared food was spread out on the blanket.

“Life doesn’t get any better than this” You said, running your fingers through George’s hair.

“Oh yea? You think so?” George asked, a small grin forming on his face.

“George Weasley, knock that grin off your face right now. “ That grin meant he was upto something, which was never good news.

George sat up straight and pulled out something from his pocket. It was a paper ring. A small smile spread across your face.

“What is the meaning of this?” You laughed as you took the ring in your hand.

“Don’t you remember?”

Of course you remembered.

It was your 5th year at Hogwarts, as the 1 year anniversary of George’s and yours relationship was coming nearer , you couldn’t help rave about a necklace you wanted. You thought if you spoke about it enough George would buy it for you as an anniversary present.

“It has these beautiful stones imbedded into the chain. It’s all the craze right now. I think Malfoy got one for his girlfriend last week.” You told George, as you both were walking to potions class.

“Oh- erm. Yea that sounds nice. You know… I’ll catch you later y/n.” George said, not even making eye contact with you, as he walked away.

“Hey! Wait! Where are you going we have potions together-“ you called after him.

It was the day of your anniversary, but there was no sight of George anywhere. As sad as you were , you couldn’t help worry. Where was he? This was extremely out of character for him. You thought to yourself.

The day had passed and it was almost dinner time , still no sign of George.

You were waking down the corridors when you heard someone crying. It was coming from the empty Defence Against the Dark Arts class room. Curious, you peaked your head through the slightly ajar door.

It was George. His ginger hair was a ruffled mess. His eyes were bloodshot. He looked like he had been crying all day.

“George! Where have you been! Whats wrong? Why are you crying?” You questioned as you rushed to his side, plopping down on the floor next to him.

“I’m so sorry y/n. I’m so so sorry. You deserve better than me. You deserve someone who can buy you that necklace, someone who can afford to give you all the nice things in the world. I’m so bloody sorry. You deserve so much better.” He said between sobs.

A wave of guilt came crashing onto you. How could you be so stupid? You should have known better. Such a beautiful necklace could not have been cheap. You felt terrible for making George feel this way.

“You fool… is this why you’ve been avoiding me all day?” You asked.

George nodded , not daring to look you in the eyes.

“George. Listen to me. No amount of necklaces , jewellery or riches means more to me than you. I’ll admit, I do like shiny things, but I’d marry you with paper rings.

You’re the one I want.” You said as you caressed his cheeks with your fingers.

Since that day, it had become an inside joke between the two of you. Every time you fought or had a disagreement, one of you would ‘call paper rings’. That was enough to end whatever quarrel you were in. And sometimes during classes, George would make rings out of spare parchment and pass them to you, making you blush uncontrollably. You knew since then, that George Weasley was the man you were going to marry.

“Y/n? You remember, don’t you?” George said, snapping you out of your reverie.

“Yes, obviously.“ you smiled. You inspected the ring in your hand a little closer. It felt oddly heavy for something made out of paper. You shook it against your ear, there was something inside.

“Open it.” He smiled.

Without hesitation, You tore the ring open, revealing a shiny gold ring with a large diamond on it.

“George…” Your head was spinning, was this real? Unable to form words , you just stared at the man in front of you.

“Y/n… will you marry me?” George asked, pulling you up to your feet.

“I- I like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings…” you replied, beaming with joy.

“You’re the one I want.” George said, finishing your sentence.

He placed the very-expensive-looking-ring on your finger, and pulled you in for a kiss.

As if it were magic, flowers started pouring down from the tree you both stood underneath. It was magic, from the day you laid eyes on George Weasley, you knew it was magic.

(All rights reserved, ©)

𝔹𝕖𝕕 𝕣𝕖𝕤𝕥🤭💌

Pairing: Fem!Reader x Fred weasly

Warnings: Fluff, Suggestive and Use of y/n

Summary: Y/n falls off her broom after a quidditch match and sustains a serious spine injury. She is supposed to be in bed rest at madam pomfery’s , but her bf ,Fred misses her a little to much.

Black clouded your peripheral vision, the world seemed to be spinning and you couldn’t make sense of the figures before you. Soon everything came into focus, a group of people circled around the bed you were lying on; the Gryffindor Quidditch team. Where were you? What happened? Why was everyone looking down at you?

“I think she is waking up,” a girl’s voice announced.

Then it all came crashing back to you... You fell off your broom during the Quidditch match! You were trying to hit the Bludger away from Harry just as he was about to catch the Golden Snitch, but it hit you in the head and you fell, toppling down 20 feet.

“Did we win?” You managed to croak, your voice barely a whisper.

“A determined lad she is, even on her death bed,” George said.

“And there is absolutely nothing wrong with that. How are you feeling, Y/N?” Hermione asked, smiling at you.

“Never been better,” you joked.

“Yes. I caught the Snitch. All thanks to you. But please be more careful next time, Y/N. Nearly gave me a stroke when you fell,” Harry said, answering your question.

You smiled wearily.

Everyone was here, but the one person you wanted was nowhere to be seen.

“Uh- Where’s Fred?” you questioned.

“Right here, love.” A red-eyed Fred appeared.

“Aww baby, have you been crying?” you asked, teasing him.

Fred walked up to the bed and pressed a gentle kiss on your forehead.

“We’ll take that as a cue to leave then. Take care, mate,” Ron announced.

After everyone left, tears escaped from Fred’s eyes.

“Freddie… I’m fine. Don’t cry, love,” you said as you brushed his cheek with your fingers.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again, okay?”

“Okay.” You gave him a weak smile.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“THREE WEEKS!” Fred shouted at George.

“Three bloody weeks Y/N’s been on bedrest! I can’t take it anymore, good god help me!” he cried.

“What’s with all the yelling?” you asked as the Weasley twins approached you.

“This big guy here is having a hard time keeping his little guy under control, since you’ve been on bedrest.” George smirked.

You couldn’t help but turn red after George’s comment.

“Oh bugger off, George,” Fred scolded.

After George left, Fred cozied up on the hospital bed with you.

“I miss you so much, Y/N.”

“I miss you more.”

“You know… there are things we can do that don’t require much… action. I won’t even need to get out of bed,” you suggested.

“Don’t tempt me, love. What if someone walks in on us?” he asked.

“So let them…” you smirked.

(All rights reserved, ©)

shut up…and kiss me

gn!reader x george weasley

words: 1121

summary: y/n is tired of the stupid pranks the Weasley twins pull, but despite this, they can’t help but find one of them so lovable.

“It’s every day with these stupid pranks.”

“You don’t have to take the fun out of everything,” Lee says with a grin. We’re sitting at our table in the back of the charms classroom. The class has just ended, but Lee and I have nowhere to be. Somehow, we lucked out with having a free period before lunch, giving us extra time to goof off.

“I just want to pass this class. I shouldn’t have to worry which class the Weasley twins will blow up next.” Lee rolls his eyes, but I don’t feel wrong for what I said. Usually, with this free time, we would go to the quidditch pitch to mess around and inevitably terrorize Oliver Wood because of it. Or at the very least, we would get to relax in the common room, but I’d been trying to avoid the twins ever since their pranks started getting shockingly extreme.

“In their defense, I don’t think they’ve ever blown up an entire classroom.”

“Yet,” I mumble. Lee says their pranks are getting more extreme because we’re about to graduate, so there are fewer consequences. I say it’s because they’re getting more deranged.

“Awe, you don’t like our pranks?” I quickly turn my head to the right to see Fred’s head poking between Lee's and my shoulders. It’d be comedic if his ability to be sneaky wasn’t so terrifying.

“We just want to entertain the masses.” I swivel my head to the left to find George hovering over my other shoulder. He’s closer than Fred was, and the smell of pine radiates off him. It overshadows the smell of fireworks and candy that linger on his clothes, most likely from his new inventions. It combines to make a warm smell that I could wrap myself in on a cold day.

“Well, clearly y/n is not part of the masses, because they don’t seem to be having much fun,” Lee mocks. Fred and George pout while Lee tries his best to keep from laughing his ass off.

“You don’t like our pranks?” Fred asks as he jabs his index finger into my cheek.

“That’s just pitiful,” George says. He leans his head against my shoulder and lets out a deep sigh. From the right, I can tell Lee and Fred are giggling. A part of me wants to say something, or to shut them up, but the other part of me wants George to stay leaned up against me for eternity. As I’m contemplating my choices, George lifts his head.

“Time to go, Feorge?” Fred asks his twin.

“We have mischief to manage elsewhere, Gred,” George responds with a serious look. My suspicion that they’re maniacs grows rapidly.

“I have never understood those nicknames they have for each other,” I tell Lee once the twins are out of the room.

“I have never understood how you and George aren’t dating yet.” I shoot him a grim look, but he just returns it with a toothy smile.

“I don’t know what makes you think I’m interested in that miscreant.”

“Well, the fact I have eyes capable of seeing past your bullshit makes me know you want him. I see the way your eyes linger on his lips and the way you two always keep physical contact for just a bit too long, and let’s not forget the time Gryffindor won a quidditch match against Slytherin and you ran over to the field and hugged him for like ten minutes.”

“Maybe I’m just passionate about quidditch,” I counter. Lee laughs in my face, but when he realizes I’m serious, his smile drops.

“If you were passionate about quidditch, you’d be dating Wood, not drooling over George.”

“Hey! I do not drool,” I scoff, and he just rolls his eyes.

“Well, since you’re so passionate about quidditch, let’s go study by the pitch,” he suggests hopefully. He suggests going there so much that I consider he could be the one in love with Wood.

As we make our way down to the pitch, I hear soft music, which is a shock because I’d usually hear the whirling of brooms and yelling amongst teammates. As we round the corner, I turn to see George Weasley standing alone on the quidditch pitch. He’s taken off his school robe and just has on his white button-down and black trousers. Small candles that gently hover above the ground circle him while he holds out his hand in my direction.

“Now, go talk to him,” Lee says mischievously as he lightly shoves me forward before walking away in the other direction. I guarantee that he and Fred will be spying on George and me this entire time. I stand in front of George and slowly take his hand as the music continues to softly play in the background. It’s a song I’ve never heard before, but I can tell it’s French, and I can tell that it’s the type of song you slow dance to. As George takes my hand, pulling me close, he begins to slowly waltz with me on the field.

“How did you manage this?”

“I had to beg Wood to reserve the quidditch pitch so I could use it,” he says with his face tucked into my hair. I can hear his smile, and I’m impressed he worked something like this out.

“How’d you convince Wood to go for that?” My question is just louder than a whisper so I don’t disrupt the music as we continue to dance.

“I’m going to prank the Slytherin quidditch captain in return,” he tells me with a quiet laugh, and I can't help but smile. “I love to be near you,” he continues, “as crazy as I might sound, I wouldn’t want to love anyone but you.” My face heats up with his words, but he just holds me tighter.

“As stupid as I find some of your pranks, I wouldn’t want to spend a second away from you,” I admit. It’s something I never thought I’d hear myself say out loud, but I’m happy to finally get it off my chest. He gently pulls himself away from me and stops dancing. I look up at him nervously, hoping I didn’t say the wrong thing, but before he gives me that chance to apologize, he’s already got one hand holding my jaw. He pushes himself towards me again, and I feel his soft lips meet mine. The kiss quickly turns passionate, and my thoughts become jumbled.

“So, would it be safe to say we’re dating now?” He asks with a cheeky grin as he pulls out of the kiss.

“I think it would be safe to say that,” I assure, right before pushing us back into the kiss.

mirrorball // [g.w.]

sequel to tolerate it

warnings: angst, fem!reader

summary: It’s been 2 weeks since George told you he has a date to the yule ball. As of now, it’s the night before and you are reflecting on your feelings for him and wondering if you can continue as his best friend.

word count: 1.5k

A/N: So, here it is! I am hoping to get this posted as soon as possible for those of you who wanted to see a part 2 to tolerate it. I had a really difficult time deciding on how I wanted to end this, and I really hope it pleases you guys (not sure I’m happy with the ending, but that is to be expected). Sorry in advance for any errors, as this is a one-woman show and I sometimes miss my own mistakes. :) Special thanks to @ajusquishy for being the first to ask about this addition to tolerate it!

*****

I want you to know I'm a mirrorball I'll show you every version of yourself tonight

The past 2 weeks had been the most difficult time of your life. George had been following Alicia around like a lost puppy, and even Fred was getting sick of it. Oddly enough, it seemed like George couldn’t get through one interaction with you without mentioning the girl’s name.

“Oh Y/N, we decided to match my tie to her dress!”

“Did you know she said I am the cutest quidditch player she has ever met?”

“I’m thinking about asking mum to knit her a sweater this Christmas!”

At first you could handle it. As his best friend of nearly 6 years, it was your job to handle it. Why didn’t that make any of this easier?

There wasn’t a change in George that you had neglected to notice. Hell, your heart dropped when he showed up with a new bruise after quidditch practice. You were the one who had told him to grow his hair out (and damn, was that a good piece of advice). George had even been with you when he chose his first pair of dress robes for merlin’s sake!

Molly Weasley saw you as her stand-in while the boys and Ginny were at Hogwarts. Of course, she didn’t know that George and Fred had grown in their pranking abilities thanks to your sugar-sweet exterior, but that didn’t change the role you played in the Weasley children’s life. You were the responsible friend who also just happened to lead a double life when it came to the twins.  It was thanks to you that they had received only 3 detentions this quarter, and it was their fault that you now had an affinity for “accidentally” leaving dung bombs in the outer pockets of Cormac McLaggen’s bag.

“Hey, Y/N... I haven’t seen you around much. You aren’t avoiding me, are ya?” George’s baritone voice broke you out of your thoughts. He settled his arms on the top of your head, and sighed deeply, letting his head drop. “Fred and I need your help figuring out what the best escape route from the dungeons is.”

“Go ask Lee, he can do some math too.” Yes, you were being harsh, but George’s presence was enough to shatter any semblance of self control you still had left.  “Now, if you excuse me, I have a study date with some ancient runes and Hermione.”

As you stalked out of the common room, George couldn’t bear to bring up how he hadn’t been able to come up with any solid pranks in exactly 14 days.

*****

You'll find me on my tallest tiptoes Spinning in my highest heels, love Shining just for you

Tonight was the night; your hair was curled to perfection, and the gown your mother had sent you was the color of holly. The heels you had strapped on were a matte black dusted with the occasional piece of red glitter. Despite the fact that George was not your date, you couldn’t help my let your thoughts drift to him as you got ready. Would he think you looked pretty? Would he think you looked as good as her?

Lee tapped you on the shoulder, and you steadied yourself before letting him gently grab your hand. “Don’t let that prat get you down. You look like a goddess, Y/N. Now, let’s go show Georgie what he is missing.” 

Lee was a great friend for doing this for you; he knew about your feelings (Fred apparently can’t keep his mouth shut), and immediately became set on helping you get back on your feet. He had become your greatest cheerleader as of late, and claimed that George doesn’t know it, but he definitely has feelings for you.

As you both walked into the great hall, you couldn’t help but let out a gasp. There were snowflakes and all types of seasonal decor strung up across the room, and it was almost like the room had transformed into a winter dreamscape. Fred and George had beat you there, already sipping punch with Angelina and Alicia.

“You boys clean up nice.” The twins and Lee let out a chorus of ‘hey’s, clearly displeased with your mockery of their appearances.

“Oi, I was betting 5 galleons that Fred would show up in his trainers...” George’s voice was surprisingly meek, almost as if he was looking for your approval with his jabs towards his brother.

The boys immediately began discussing their plan to spike the punch bowl with firewhiskey, and Angelina and Alicia launched into a conversation about where they had purchased their gowns. You felt more than out of place at this point, and decided to relocate after notifying Lee that you’d be fine on your own for a bit. Almost immediately after, Angelina went to distract McGonagall while Fred and Lee snuck under the table of refreshments.

You went to talk with Hermione and the younger trio, and were drawn into a lesson in muggle dancing.

“No, Ron, that is not how you hit the woah.” (I’m sorry I felt so inclined to include this cuz the image makes me chuckle lol).

“Well, ‘Mione, why don’t you and Y/N show us how this is done then?” Harry and Ron crossed their arms, and Hermione slipped her arm around your shoulders.

“C’mon, Y/N. You look like you could use something fun.” She dragged you onto the dance floor, and you both began dramatically spinning each other to the sound of your wheezing laughter.

If only you had noticed a certain red-headed prankster gazing at you like you had hung the stars in the sky...

*****

You are not like the regulars The masquerade revelers Drunk as they watch my shattered edges glisten

Fred and Angelina had taken to the floor as soon as the waltzing began. After watching them twirl to the crescendos of the music, you finally decided enough was enough. All it too was a look at Lee, and he understood what you needed to do. You slipped out of the doors to the great hall, and found yourself wandering amongst the carriages powdered with snow, occasionally stopping to draw shapes into the piles of flakes.

Following five-ish minutes of mucking about, you finally decided to sit on the steps that bridged the courtyard and the hallways. Snowflakes continued floating, but you quickly realized the droplets of water on your face were from small tears and not the weather. Sniffles escaped your nose, and you crossed your arms in a poor attempt to keep warm despite your lack of sleeves.

Out of nowhere, you felt heavy cloth drop onto your bare shoulders.

“Be careful, love. Ya look like you’re halfway to becoming an ice lolly.” George shuffled his long, lanky body onto the steps. You looked at him through your lashes, and he seemed almost squeamish.

“Don’t you have Alicia waiting for you inside? I’m sure she wouldn’t be thrilled to see you out here.”

“Bloody hell, Y/N, I think we have been pretty dense.” Confusion evident on your features, George let his larger hand cover yours. “I didn’t want to ask Alicia. I wanted to ask you.”

“What do you mean? You’ve been talking my ear off about how much you like her for weeks now...”

“I was trying to make you jealous.” Silence overtook the interaction.

“So you’re saying that we both have been blind to our feelings?” 

George let out a small chuckle, and pulled his hand away. To be quite honest, you felt like maybe you had been ignoring the signs: the subtle stares, the extended physical contact, the willingness to be there whenever and wherever you asked him to.

“I think we may want to start over and forget the last few weeks.”

“I think I would quite like that.” You stood up, and brushed the snow off your skirt before extending your hand towards George. “Well, George, the yule ball is in... now... would you like to be my date?”

“I would enjoy that a bunch, Y/N.” He took your hand, and pulled you into his chest. “May have a dance to start off the evening?”

“...There isn’t any music.” You chuckled, but George simply grinned at you before beginning to hum.

“Problem solved. So, may I have this dance?”

“You may.” You dropped your head into the nook of his shoulder, and George began to sway and spin you, leaving 2 pairs of footprints in the snow beneath your feet.

From just beyond your view, Fred, Lee, Angelina, and Alicia let out somewhat of a “oomph” and high-fived each other before turning to go back inside.

Shining just for you.

tolerate it //[g.w.]

Summary: George has always been pretty much in the dark about how you feel about him, yet that hasn’t changed your affections for the ginger-haired boy.

Warnings: Angst, possibly slow burn idk

A/N: Hiya! My blog was pretty dead and I’ve just been reading other’s works on it, but I recently have been pretty torn about starting to write again. I figured that now is as good a time as any, and I hope that anybody who decides to read this enjoys it at least a little. I decided to just write and see where it takes me, so this is probably more of a drabble than anything else. This has not been beta read, and any feedback is appreciated!

Word Count: 884

I sit and watch you reading with your head low I wake and watch you breathing with your eyes closed

George had all but stumbled into the gryffindor common room after perhaps one of the most rigorous quidditch practices as of late. The tension practically dripped off his skin as he rolled his shoulders back and let out a deep groan.

“Hey Georgie, your face looks almost as red as your hair. Did you have to outrun Filch on the way back or something?” He mockingly laughed at your sarcasm and dropped down onto the couch next to you.

“Nah, we all know Filch can’t run nearly fast enough to tire me out. It’s just Oliver has been a bloody prat since the house cup is coming up...” George wiped his hand across his forehead, gathering the beads of sweat making their way across his hairline.

You giggled, and settled into a comfortable silence as you continued to study. George’s head hung down as he settled into the couch, seemingly lulled into a sleepy state by the intermittent turning of pages. Deciding to sneak a glance at the redhead, you looked up and were greeted by the sight of George’s head bobbing up and down, his eyes fighting to stay open.

“Why don’t you go get cleaned up, and I’ll go sneak us some biscuits from the kitchen. You look too tired to go all the way to the great hall anyways.” George nodded, and heaved himself off of the plush cushions.

“Remind me to have mom send you some cinnamon twists, you deserve them for taking care of me so well.” You giggled, and the two of you parted ways. You nearly sprinted to the kitchen, hoping that you could use up some energy and force your heart to calm down now that George was gone.

*****

I wait by the door like I'm just a kid Use my best colors for your portrait

“Awww, what’cha drawing, Y/N?” Fred made a grab for the sketchbook nestled in your lap, clearly egged on by the laughter of his twin brother and Lee.

“Fred. Give it back.” The way your voice rose shocked the three boys to their cores; In all the time they had known you, you never raised your voice at them. It didn’t matter if you were being used as a means of making a joke, you usually simply giggled and brushed it off. 

Fred turned away from you, and immediately realized why you wanted to keep the book out of his hands. On the open page, you had drawn his younger brother in astonishing detail. Every line was light, yet strategically placed as if you had spent hours painstakingly sketching the boy out. Fred decided it was a better choice to close the book and pass it back to your flushed figure.

“Sorry about that, Y/N. It was only a joke.” Fred stammered, and immediately staggered to place his hands on George and Lee’s broad shoulders. “Why don’t you boys go grab some skiving snackboxes from the dorm, and I’ll give Y/N here a nice shoulder rub for causing her so much grief.”

George and Lee simply chuckled and walked away, the swish of their robes breaking the awkward silence forming between Fred and you.

“You can’t tell George.”

“How long, Y/N?” He dropped next to you on the grass, placing his large hand on your knee as a sign of comfort.

“Look... It’s just a small crush, I’ve had it since 5th year. It’ll probably be gone by the summer. Just please, don’t bring it up.” You dropped your gaze and focused on pulling strands of grass from the area around your ankles. The ferocity with which you tugged on the green blades suggested all Fred needed to know, and he dropped the subject, deciding to focus on moving to knead your tense shoulders instead.

*****

I made you my temple, my mural, my sky Now I'm begging for footnotes in the story of your life

“Y/N, you won’t believe who I just asked to the yule ball!” George practically pounced on you from behind, ripping your focus from the potions essay you were currently writing.

Your heart immediately dropped, but you forced a smile on your face. “Who’s the lucky bird, Georgie?”

“Alicia! I mean, we are just going as mates, but who knows what this could lead to... Maybe I won’t end this year without a gal to send some letters to this summer, if you catch my drift.”

You could always send me letters...

“Well, that’s great for you George! I bet you will make a great couple, even if it is just for the dance for now.” You slammed your notebook shut, and began to gather your things. “Hopefully you both have fun at the ball.”

George noticed your lack of enthusiasm for his small victory, but brushed it off as jealousy seeing as you had no date for the ball yet.

“Hey, Y/N, you know I could always set you up with Lee or one of the lads, right? It’s what best friends do, after all!” The ginger’s voice carried through the common room, but what he couldn’t see was the fat droplets of tears rolling down your cheeks.

Best friends...

People I write for

Headcannons, imagines, x readers, bulbs, fluff and smut all accepted but I don’t write angst sorry my page is to bring joy not tears :) and I will make a master list later

Marvel

Bucky Barnes

Steve Rogers

+ there 1940s version because pre serum Steve will always have my heart

Peter Parker

Stucky x reader

Stony x reader

Leo fitz

Daniel sousa

+ all the actors

Harry Potter

Harry

Ron

Draco

Cedric

Fred

George

Bill

Charlie

Viktor krum

Remus

Sirius

Wolf star x reader

James

Remus x Sirius x James x reader

Albus potter

James Sirius potter

Teddy lupin

Louis weasley

Fred II

Hugo

Scorpius

Narnia

Peter

Caspian

Edmund

Starwars

Luke

Han

Poe

Kylo

Ben solo

Anakin

Obione

Din djarin

Merlin

Merlin

Arthur

Mordred

Percival

Lancelot

Gwaine

Riverdale

Archie

Jughead

Reggie

Fp

Other people

Ahkmenrah

Roger Taylor

Enoch O’Connor

Harry styles

im sure I have forgotten some people so please request and I will write for any character I know well, I don’t really write for characters I don’t know or like just because I don’t want to get them wrong for you guys but please request and have an awesome day - love C 🐾

George Weasley x fem! reader

W.C,= 1k warnings; cute (maybe); hope you like ;) You and George were cuddling on one of the couches in the common room in front of the fireplace, his arms wrapping around your waist as you sat on his lap, and Fred standing imitating the way George talked about you before the two of you started dating. . . "did you see the way she tied her hair up in class today?" Fred imitated, forcing a high-pitched voice and exaggerated acting "wow, she was so perfect I could barely concentrate on what Snape was saying" Fred said, still forcing a watery voice to be funny. you laughed at the exaggerated acting and the voice that Fred did, meanwhile George blushed next to you "stop it Fred" he mumbled a little embarrassed hiding his face in the crook of your neck, you just laughed placing your hands on top of his “don’t worry, I think it’s really cute” you say turning your face to look at him, George quickly places his lips on yours earning an “ew” from Fred.

(sorry for any mistakes, English is not my first language ;), sorry if it wasn't very good, I'm not used to writing)

just imagine, you and George cuddling in the Hogwarts courtyard watching the sun while exchanging caresses and kisses, and Fred (obviously) joking about how affectionate you are and how much George is in love with you, sometimes Fred even imitates the way George talked about you before you started dating

(sorry for any typos, English is not my native language)

If you like this little idea, I can try to do something longer ;)

rules

* requests are open *

will write for ; anakin skywalker ‘ alec volturi ‘ edward cullen ‘ tate langdon ‘ kit walker ‘ johnny cade ‘ jj maybank ‘ kai anderson ‘ dallas winston ‘ kyle spencer ‘ spencer reid ‘ aaron hotchner ‘ rafe cameron ‘ sirius black ‘ remus lupin ‘ james potter ‘ harry potter ‘ fred & george weasley ‘ theodore nott ‘ lip gallagher ‘ carl gallagher

will not write anything about ; puke ; shit ; illegal age gap ; age play ; rape ; abuse ; kidnapping

TRUTHHHH UGHHH 😭😭😭😭

One thing golden era Wattpad writers had going for them was that they knew the importance of a buildup. I'm of the opinion that the sexual tension is WAY more satisfying to read than the actual sex and quite frankly there is a serious lack of non smutty writing.

Like I really miss reading fics/ x readers that start from scratch. Meeting the characters, initial reactions getting to know them, the tension the jealousy the TENSION the freaking tension.

Looking and looking away when they get spotted, touches that feel like they linger but perhaps they didn't and they're both so hot for each other that they think it's wishful thinking. And I don't mean just sweet sunshine romances, darker works can have a buildup too but it seems like so much is just about getting to the smut instead of the psychological aspect.

Bring back the build up!!!!!!!

George écrivait à toute allure sur un morceau de parchemin, les sourcils arqués, les lèvres légèrement pincées. Sa plume parcourait le papier laissant dans son sillage des lignes, des courbes, des formes et des boucles d'encre.

Il s'arrêta un instant d'écrire et se redressa sur sa chaise. Ses mains trouvèrent sa nuque et y restèrent jointes. Les pointes de ses cheveux d'un roux incandescent tombèrent sur ses longs doigts, les noyant dans un bain de flammes. Il se laissa aller contre le dossier de sa chaise et ferma les paupières.

Ses yeux à elle se posèrent instantanément sur le petit morceau de peau visible sous ses mains, satin d'ivoire constellé de tâches de rousseur. Elle poussa un soupir.

C'était la troisième fois, en l'espace d'une heure qu'elle se laissait happer par ses fantasmes. Elle avait beau vouloir s'arracher mais ils semblaient déterminés à ne pas la laisser tranquille.

-Dis-lui !

Bianca sortit de ses rêveries. Janet, sa meilleure amie, la regardait avec un air avisé.

-Quoi ?

Bianca feignait sa surprise. Elle savait très bien de quoi Janet voulait parler. Elle se tourna de nouveau vers George. Sur l'angle parfait de sa mâchoire. Sur son cou gracieux. Sur ses larges épaules. Sur l'arcade tordu de son nez.

-L'amour c'est comme le soleil. Parfois, il ne faut pas tenter de s'en approcher au risque de se faire bruler les ailes.

A ce moment précis, George tourna la tête vers elle. Bianca fut prompt à baisser les yeux vers son parchemin. George n'était pas pour elle. Il en aimait une autre et Bianca s'y était faite à l'idée. Cela avait été dur mais elle pensait avoir su faire taire la passion dévorante qu'elle avait pour George.

Seulement, elle se surprenait toujours à penser à lui, à se demander ce qu'il faisait, à se l'imaginer allongé à côté d'elle, tard dans la nuit. Quand elle le croisait dans les couloirs, elle se débrouillait pour le frôler ou le bousculer. Elle s'excusait alors, saisissant cette opportunité pour toucher son bras et lui sourire.

Bianca ne ratait aucun de ses matchs de Quidditch et bien que fière membre de la maison Poufsouffle, elle arborait immanquablement les couleurs rouge et or de l'équipe de George. Elle l'encourageait en silence, les yeux rivés sur sa silhouette athlétique et gracieuse.

Elle l'observait de loin, le cherchait dans toutes les foules. Et même si George n'était pas sien, même si elle ne pouvait pas lui crier son amour, elle était heureuse. Heureuse de pouvoir ne serait-ce qu'exister dans son monde.

Prankster Darling, George Weasey x Female OC

1991-1992 : Le Chupacabra (Partie 1)

❀ George et Fred l'avaient rencontrée en troisième année et l'avaient tout de suite prise sous leurs ailes. Ils l'appelaient le chupacabra et sa réputation de bagarreuse était légendaire à Poudlard. George, quant à lui, n'avait jamais vu Théodora Tonks autrement que comme le garçon manqué en colère qu'elle était.

Un fameux été 1994, Théodora change du tout au tout et est bien décidée à réclamer le cœur de George Weasley.

/!\ Cette œuvre ne m'appartient pas en totalité. La plupart des personnages (et quelques évènements) qui apparaîtront dans cette fiction sont issus de l'univers du Monde des Sorciers, créés par JK Rowling. /!\

✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧✧

La fraîcheur de l'hiver s'installait doucement sur le château de Poudlard. Dans le ciel noir, les chouettes et les hiboux peinaient à trouver leurs chemins parmi les nuages d'encre. Théodora dévalait la colline en direction de la petite cabane accueillante d'Hagrid. Ce dernier lui avait demandé de passer pour qu'elle rencontre le nouveau botruc dont il s'occupait. De là où elle se trouvait, elle parvenait à sentir le parfum alléchant de ses biscuits rochers. Elle se frotta les mains à la perspective de bientôt pouvoir fourrer les fameux gâteaux dans sa bouche. Théodora semblait être la seule à Poudlard à apprécier la pâtisserie du garde-chasse. Elle avait immanquablement des goûts douteux en matière de cuisine.

Elle se trouvait à quelques mètres quand elle entendit les éclats de voix qui émanaient de la lisière de la forêt. Elle plissa les yeux pour ajuster sa vision. Théodora reconnut aussitôt la tête blonde pale de Drago Malefoy, encadré par les carrures imposantes de Crabbe et Goyle, ses fidèles acolytes. Elle tendit l'oreille tout en poursuivant sa route. Malefoy semblait aboyer des insultes sur quelqu'un. Les injures fusaient en un flot ininterrompu de lave ardente. De temps en temps, il marquait une pause pour laisser le temps à Crabbe et Goyle d'assimiler ce qu'il disait. Ces deux derniers s'écroulaient de rire, applaudissant comme des primates devant un spectacle de clowns. 

Théodora s'arrêta pour voir à qui il s'adressait. Son regard tomba alors sur les visages identiques de Fred et George Weasley. Les jumeaux dardaient Malefoy d'un œil brillant, retenus chacun par un Lee Jordan et une Angelina Johnson essoufflés. Un sourire triomphal s'étalait sur le visage du Serpentard qui reprit de plus belle. L'on pouvait lui reprocher bien des choses mais il fallait reconnaître que sa pugnacité n'avait pas d'égal à Poudlard. Théodora se réfugia derrière un arbre pour les observer sans être vue. 

-...une honte pour les sorciers du monde entier,sifflait la voix trainante de Malefoy. Pas étonnant que vous vous comportiez de la sorte. Moi aussi, je me rebellerai contre le règlement si j'habitais dans un tel trou à rats. Je me demande comment fait leur mère pour passer la porte quand on sait qu'elle est aussi imposante que ce balourd d'Hagrid !

Crabbe et Goyle s'esclaffèrent une nouvelle fois. Les visages des jumeaux se durcissaient sous les paroles de Malefoy. Théodora fut aussitôt submergée par une vague de compassion envers eux deux. Les médisances de Malefoy n'épargnaient personne ; elle en avait elle-même fait les frais en son premier jour d'école, le lendemain de la cérémonie des répartitions. Elle avait subi ses attaques sans rien dire et s'était contentée de serrer les poings en se détournant. Cependant, le voir se défouler ainsi sur les frères Weasley avec une telle véhémence la remplissait de rage, sentiment auquel elle était souvent sujette depuis quelques temps.

- Mon père dit que le père Weas-moche n'en a plus pour longtemps au ministère.  Apparemment, on s'est finalement rendu compte de sa médiocrité. Ce n'est qu'une question de temps avant qu'on l'expédie avec un bon coup de pied au...

Théodora ressentit une douleur cuisante sur ses phalanges, les mêmes qui venaient de frapper Drago Malefoy à la mâchoire. Ce dernier s'étala sur le sol, faisant se soulever les mottes de terre. Il leva des yeux surpris sur Théodora qui se tenait au-dessus de lui, le visage toujours déformé par la fureur. Sa lèvre inférieure étaient fendue et un mince filet de sang souillait sa cravate rayée de vert et argent. Il esquissa un sourire douloureux.

- Va jouer ailleurs Malefoy !

- Tiens tiens, on a réveillé la bête, pouffa-t-il en se relevant. T'es le dragon de garde des Weas-moche maintenant ?

Ces derniers semblèrent s'être calmés après l'arrivée de Théodora. Ils parvinrent à se défaire des poignes de Lee et d'Angelina. Théodora les entendait respirer derrière elle. La tension était palpable. Elle sentait leur colère fendre l'air alors qu'ils continuaient d'observer Malefoy.

Il épousseta les pans de sa robe. Une lueur s'alluma au fond de son regard gris ; visiblement, l'idée de molester Théodora à son tour lui donnait une grande satisfaction. Il avait l'air d'un chien venant de débusquer un rat dans les buissons. Son visage trahissait sa malveillance. 

- Comment oses-tu poser la main sur moi, infâme sang-mêlé ?

Théodora frémit. Les yeux de Malefoy se posèrent sur ses poings serrés. Il jubilait. Derrière lui, Crabbe et Goyle s'agitaient, curieux de connaître la suite des évènements. Théodora n'avait pas peur d'eux ; en revanche, elle redoutait les paroles acerbes de Malefoy. Qu'il s'attaque à elle était une chose, qu'il s'attaque à sa famille et à ses parents en particulier, en était une autre.

- Tu sais ce qu'on chuchote au sujet de ta mère, Tonks ?

Les oreilles de Théodora bourdonnaient. Elle savait parfaitement ce que pensait les Malefoy du style de vie de sa mère. Elle savait également que les sentiments qu'ils entretenaient à l'égard d'Andromeda Tonks n'avaient rien de tendre.

Théodora ne lui laissa pas le temps de terminer sa phrase et laissa sa colère exploser. Elle s'élança vers Malefoy et levant sa jambe, asséna un coup de genou dans l'abdomen du garçon qui se plia en deux sous l'effet de la douleur. Sa figure se colora d'une belle couleur pourpre. Elle brandit alors, son poing évitant de justesse la main potelée de Goyle qui cherchait son bras pour le retenir. Elle sentit le nez en pointe de Drago se briser sous la puissance de son coup. Le bruit de son os qui cédait envoya une décharge délicieuse le long de son épine dorsale. Crabbe et Goyle s'affolèrent en voyant le sang gicler. Ils prirent Drago chacun par un bras pour l'entraîner vers le château. 

Les quatre autres n'avaient toujours pas bougé, la bouche béante. Le cœur de Théodora bondit dans sa poitrine. L'idée qu'elle ait pu infliger la douleur à Malefoy, même infime fût-elle, la délectait. Le bruissement léger du feuillage au-dessus de sa tête suffit à couvrir le murmure de sa respiration haletante. Elle entendit vaguement les clameurs admiratives provenant du petit groupe de Gryffondors mais préféra se retrancher dans sa solitude. Elle se para d'un sourire et reprit la direction de la cabane d'Hagrid, les pensées déjà tournées vers les biscuits-rochers. 

On vint chercher Théodora dans son dortoir quelques heures plus tard. Elle cessa de brosser les poils de Plumeau, son chat, pour suivre la préfète de sa maison. Sur le chemin, elles n'échangèrent aucun mot mais Théodora n'eut aucun mal à deviner leur destination.

Côte à côte, elles descendirent une volée de marches et traversèrent un long couloir sinistre, seulement éclairé par la lumière de torches murales. La préfète la conduisait au bureau du professeur Rogue où l'attendait également le professeur Chourave.  La professeure de Botanique posa sur elle un regard bienveillant quand elle entra dans la pièce à la lueur tamisée.

 Le bureau du professeur Rogue était de nature assez  austère et son plafond voûté lui donnait un air de donjon. Des étagères sur lesquels luisaient des centaines de bocaux couraient le long de chaque mur. 

La préfète prit congé après avoir soufflé un "bonne chance" à Théodora. Retrouvée seule avec les deux professeurs, elle se maudit elle-même d'avoir cultivé sa fâcheuse tendance à perdre son sang-froid. 

- Mademoiselle Tonks, savez-vous pourquoi vous avez été appelée dans ce bureau ?demanda le professeur Chourave.

Elle contourna le bureau en bois de frêne du professeur Rogue pour se retrouver face à  Théodora qui haussa nonchalamment les épaules. Les talons de ses bottes de cuir martelaient le sol dallé d'une manière sinistre.

- Je suppose que Malefoy s'est plaint à mon sujet...

- Monsieur Malefoy affirme que vous l'auriez agressé, plus tôt dans l'après-midi. Est-ce vrai ?

- Enfin professeure, vous avez entendu comme moi les témoignages des Messieurs Crabbe et Goyle ! intervint le professeur Rogue.

Il releva légèrement le menton pour toiser Théodora par dessus son nez crochu.  

- Je préfère écouter la version de mademoiselle Tonks avant d'établir les faits.

- Les faits,répliqua sèchement le professeur Rogue, chère professeure Chourave, se sont déroulés comme suit. Le jeune Malefoy se promenait à la lisière de la forêt en compagnie de ses camarades de classe quand mademoiselle Tonks l'a agressé.

- Il s'en est pris aux frères Weasley, il fallait bien que quelqu'un riposte !se défendit Théodora en dardant sur Rogue un regard plein de défi.

- N'avez-vous pas jugé utile de faire appel à un professeur au lieu de rendre justice vous-même ?

Théodora se contenta de baisser les yeux, préférant se murer dans le silence. Elle avait beau jouer les dures, le regard glacé du professeur de potions l'intimidait. Elle croisa les mains derrière son dos pour les empêcher de trembler mais se redressa pour faire croire à ses interlocuteurs qu'elle n'avait pas perdu sa contenance. Elle entendit nettement le professeur Chourave pousser un soupir.

- Le règlement de l'école interdit les duels à la baguette magique mais les jeux de mains sont tout autant sévèrement punis.

La ton de sa voix fit frissonner Théodora qui n'avait pas l'habitude d'entendre le professeur s'exprimer si durement. 

- J'enlève cinquante points à Poufsouffle, reprit-elle.

Théodora étouffa sa plainte en mordant sa lèvre avec force. Elle pensa à la lettre qui tomberait bientôt entre les mains de ses parents, celle qui relaterait ses dernières frasques. Elle sentit un frisson d'effroi caresser son échine lorsqu'elle imagina leurs mines déçues. Ils l'avaient prévenue maintes fois de se faire toute petite, d'éviter les ennuis et surtout les bagarres. Mais Théodora avait toujours eu du mal à taire ses pulsions. Elle s'exprimait avec ses poings et n'hésitait pas à cogner si elle en ressentait le besoin. C'était sa façon bien à elle de rendre justice. Rogue grimaça et grogna doucement en croisant les bras sur sa poitrine, faisant onduler les pans de sa robe et lui donnant l'allure lugubre d'un corbeau.

- Seulement cinquante points ? Je vous rappelle qu'à l'heure même où nous parlons,  le jeune Malefoy se trouve à l'infirmerie, souffrant le martyr.

Le professeur Chourave leva un regard surpris vers lui.

- Qu'êtes-vous en train de suggérer ?

Le professeur Rogue esquissa l'ombre d'un demi-sourire, le seul geste de bonheur qu'il fût capable de réaliser.

- Je propose qu'on enlève cent points à mademoiselle Tonks, une sanction que j'estime plus que clémente.

Le professeur Chourave secoua énergiquement la tête en signe de dénégation.

- J'enlève cinquante points à Poufsouffle et Théodora Tonks sera également de corvée dans les serres pendant un mois.

Elle se tourna alors vers Théodora dont le cou s'enflammait d'embarras. 

- Vous arracherez les mauvaises herbes et vous occuperez de mes plantes. Je vous enverrai un hibou pour vous présenter plus amplement les termes de cette punition.

A côte d'elle, le professeur Rogue grinçait des dents, visiblement peu satisfait de la sentence prononcée. 

- Vous pouvez disposer.

Thédora reçut un hibou au cours de la semaine suivante, la sommant de se rendre aux serres de Botanique le vendredi après-midi après les cours. Elle s'y rendit en traînant des pieds. Quand elle entra dans la serre numéro quatre, une bouffée de chaleur la frappa de plein fouet et colla à sa peau comme une ventouse. Le professeur Chourave était là, penchée sur un bubobulb dont elle extrayait le pus avec une douceur infinie. Elle n'avait pas semblé remarquer l'arrivée de Théodora qui toussota pour attirer son attention. 

- Ah bonjour mademoiselle Tonks !chantonna-t-elle en scellant un flacon de pus.

Elle paraissait étonnamment joyeuse compte tenu des récents évènements qui les avaient toutes les deux poussées à se réunir dans cette serre, un vendredi après-midi ensoleillé.

- J'espère que vous avez apporté vos gants de protection.

Théodora acquiesça vivement en tapotant la poche intérieure de sa robe, là où elle avait casé ses gants.

- Comme je vous l'ai expliqué dans la lettre que je vous ai envoyée, vous serez de corvée tous les vendredi pendant un mois et au-delà si besoin est. 

Elle retira ses gants en peau de dragon et les rangea dans l'armoire derrière elle. Théodora réalisa que c'était la première fois qu'elle voyait le professeur sans ses protections. Ses yeux tombèrent sur ses doigts fins, sur l'anneau brillant qui ornait son majeur. Avait-elle une vie en dehors de l'enceinte du château ? Avait-elle quelqu'un de spécial qui l'attendait à l'extérieur ? Le professeur surpris son regard. Elle ne tenta pas de cacher ses mains, comme Théodora s'y était attendue. Elle lui sourit et des rides se dessinèrent autour de ses yeux. 

- Inutile de vous dire que j'ai été très surprise d'apprendre ce qui s'était passé entre vous et monsieur Malefoy.

Le visage de Théodora s'assombrit.

- Surprise parce que j'ai réalisé que je m'étais trompée à votre sujet. Jusqu'à présent, je vous croyais différente de votre sœur mais maintenant, je sais que vous êtes aussi prompt à l'indiscipline que Nymphadora.

Elle rit doucement, suscitant un sourire sur les lèvres de Théodora.

- Je ne risque pas de m'ennuyer avec vous.

Son rire s'évanouit. Le professeur Chourave retrouva son sérieux.

- Vos raisons étaient louables, c'est pourquoi je ne ressens pas le besoin d'être sévère avec vous. De plus, vous êtes une très bonne élève et vous avez montré un réel talent pour ma matière. Je ne doute pas que vous traiterez mes plantes avec respect et soin. Peut-être vous découvrirez-vous une vocation dans cette branche, qui sait ?

Elle lança un clin d'oeil en direction de Théodora et ajouta :

- J'ai pris le soin de dresser une liste des tâches à accomplir que vous trouverez sur mon bureau. Je reste disponible si jamais vous veniez à être en difficulté. 

Théodora la remercia et le professeur quitta la serre en sifflotant joyeusement. Retrouvée seule, la jeune sorcière se dirigea vers le bureau. Elle parcourut d'un œil vif la liste du professeur Chourave et poussa un soupir en comptant le nombre de corvées à effectuer. Loin de se laisser abattre, elle rassembla ses cheveux en une queue de cheval et attrapa un balai et une pelle. Elle entreprit de nettoyer les tables maculées d'engrais. Elle rangea les produits contre les limaces sur les étagères, recompta les cache-oreilles, arrosa les plantes, rempota les pots. Elle travaillait en fredonnant, se trouvant ravie de pouvoir accomplir toutes ces tâches. Théodora se rendit vite compte que sa punition n'en était pas vraiment une. Elle se sentait apaisée au milieu de toutes ces plantes. Même la chaleur étouffante de la serre ne semblait plus la déranger. Les heures s'étiraient mais Théodora se complaisait à aller et venir dans la serre, redoutant le moment où elle devrait raccrocher ses gants et retrouver le brouhaha de sa salle commune. Il y avait encore tant à faire !

Munie d'une pince et de ses gants en peau de dragon, Théodora s'approcha d'un figuier abyssinien. C'était la première fois qu'elle en voyait un d'aussi près. La plante n'était pas au programme de première année mais elle avait lu assez de livres de botanique pour savoir  exactement comment s'y prendre avec elle ; visiblement, le professeur Chourave avait assez confiance en elle pour lui laisser la responsabilité d'une plante aussi capricieuse. Elle taillait en silence, les sourcils arqués, concentrée sur ses gestes. 

- Pas mal ta punition ! 

Théodora sursauta et laissa échapper un petit cri aigu. Elle se tourna vers la voix qui l'avait interpelée. Les jumeaux Weasley lui souriaient à l'autre bout de la serre. 

- Pourquoi on n'est jamais de corvée dans les serres ?s'enquit l'un d'eux en grognant. 

- C'est comme s'ils faisaient exprès de nous tenir éloignés des plus grandes sources de divertissement,commenta l'autre.

Ils secouèrent la tête avec un air faussement consterné et s'approchèrent de Théodora d'une démarche bondissante.

- Qu'est-ce que vous faîtes ici ?

- Avec George, on s'est rendu compte qu'on ne t'avait pas remercié pour ce que tu avais fait pour nous.

- Nous ne sommes pas facilement impressionnés mais je dois avouer que ton crochet du droit était incroyable.

Ledit George mima le coup de poing que Théodora avait asséné à Malefoy. Son frère grimaça et s'affala sur le sol de la serre, dans une parfaite imitation du serpentard. Ils éclatèrent de rire, se tenant le ventre. Théodora était trop stupéfaite pour parler. Ils l'avaient rejointe volontairement ; ils s'étaient donc renseignés pour savoir où elle se trouvait. Ils étaient là pour elle, pour lui exprimer leur gratitude. Elle sentit une boule de chaleur se former dans sa poitrine. 

Théodora les regarda tour à tour. Elle n'avait jamais eu l'occasion de leur parler et ne les connaissait que de nom. Elle savait qu'ils étaient assez populaires dans l'école, connus pour être des farceurs impénitents, au cœur de tous les évènements à Poudlard. Qu'on les apprécie ou non, personne ne pouvait s'empêcher de les admirer, de rechercher leur compagnie et d'applaudir leurs méfaits. 

Plus vieux qu'elle de deux ans, les jumeaux entamaient leur troisième année à Poudlard. Théodora les avait remarqués dès le premier jour du mois de septembre alors qu'elle se faufilait sur les quais pour rejoindre le Poudlard Express. L'un d'eux câlinait une tarentule géante sous les regards excités de son frère et de Lee Jordan, heureux de leur présenter son animal de compagnie. Curieuse, elle s'était demandée si une telle compagnie était autorisée à l'école. Dès lors, elle n'avait jamais cessé de s'intéresser à eux, toujours au premier rang chaque fois que leurs farces troublaient les couloirs du château.

Les jumeaux avaient retrouvé leur calme et l'observaient en silence.

- Tu as encore du pain sur la planche on dirait.

Théodora haussa les épaules.

- Pas vraiment, il ne me reste qu'à choyer quelques plantes et passer la serpillère et j'aurais fini en un rien de temps.

- D'accord,firent-ils en chœur.

Ils attrapèrent une serpillère chacun.

- On va te donner un coup de main.

- Non non non, ne vous en donnez pas la peine. C'est ma punition.

- Punition que tu dois effectuer après nous être venue en aide. On te doit une fière chandelle, alors laisse-nous au moins te rendre la pareille.

- Vous n'êtes pas obligés.

Le jumeau qui venait de parler leva les yeux au ciel. Il se dirigea vers un coin de la serre et posa la serpillère à terre, prêt à frotter, aussitôt imité par son frère. Celui-ci prit la parole :

- Au fait, moi c'est Fred et lui c'est George.

- Je m'appelle Théodora Tonks.

Les visages de Fred et George s'illuminèrent.

- Attends ! T'es la petite sœur de Tonks ?

Théodora esquissa un sourire gêné. Jusqu'à présent, lorsqu'elle mentionnait être la petite soeur de Nymphadora Tonks, les gens la dévisageaient avec un regard noir avant de se plaindre avec passion des méfaits de la métamorphomage. Elle soupira.

- Je tiens à m'excuser de sa part pour tout ce que...

George l'interrompit, les yeux brillants et désinvoltes.

- Tu plaisantes,s'écria-t-il. Cette fille est un génie de la farce, une de nos meilleures rencontres à l'école. Son esprit facétieux ne sera jamais oublié, nous lui devons tant.

Il posa la main sur son cœur et leva les yeux vers le plafond avec un air solennel. Théodora ne put s'empêcher de sourire. Il émanait de lui quelque chose d'étrange ; une lumière radieuse et bienveillante. 

- Tu es une métamorphomage toi aussi ?s'enquit George. Comme ta sœur ? 

Théodora perdit son sourire. Elle leur tourna le dos, faisant mine de s'intéresser au figuier abyssinien. 

- Je n'ai malheureusement pas hérité de son talent.

Elle les entendit alors s'activer derrière elle. Théodora leur en fut reconnaissante de ne pas s'attarder sur le sujet. Les jumeaux s'appliquaient dans leurs tâches mais cette attitude sérieuse s'évanouit aussitôt quand George glissa dans l'eau laissée derrière par la serpillère de son frère. Celui-ci partit dans un grand éclat de rire, bientôt rejoint par Théodora. George se releva en pestant mais ne parvint pas à cacher le sourire qui étirait ses propres lèvres. Il jeta une poignée de bouse sur Fred qui s'étala par terre sans s'arrêter de rire pour autant. 

Théodora eut tout le loisir de les observer discrètement et remarqua plusieurs traits chez l'un qui le distinguaient de l'autre. Le visage de Fred paraissait légèrement plus rond que celui de George et ce dernier était légèrement plus grand. Un petit grain de beauté saillait le cou de George, petit détail introuvable chez son jumeau. Leurs regards ne pouvaient pas non plus être plus différents. Bien que tous deux étincelaient de malice, celui de George était tinté d'un velours plus doux, plus chaleureux. 

- On t'intrigue ?

George la considérait lui aussi. Théodora se détourna en rougissant et retourna à ses plantes. 

- Je suis juste étonnée de vous voir si appliqués. Vous donnez souvent l'impression d'être chaotiques de nature.

Fred ricana.

- Rassure-toi on l'est. Disons que nous savons rester sage quand la situation l'impose.

Il y eut plusieurs autres imprévus, durant lesquels Fred se fit mordre par un plant de snargalouf. Il paniqua et prétendit que la plante l'avait mordu avec tant de force qu'il faudrait sûrement lui amputer le doigt. George l'accusa de dramatiser et ils passèrent le reste du temps à se chamailler et en quelques minutes, la quantité de corvées avait sensiblement augmenté. Théodora en fut quelque peu ennuyée mais elle y voyait également l'opportunité de passer plus de temps avec les jumeaux. Ils se confondirent en excuses et promirent de tout nettoyer en quatrième vitesse.

Epuisée et affamée, Théodora s'arrêta pour consulter sa montre et réalisa avec amertume que le professeur Chourave ne lui avait pas précisé l'heure de la fin de sa retenue. Elle se débarrassa de ses gants et les fourra dans la poche de sa jupe.

- Je vous serai éternellement reconnaissante pour votre aide. 

Fred et George qui s'étaient accordé une pause étaient allongés sous une table. Ils tournèrent vers elle des visages usés. 

- Encore une fois, nous n'avons fait que te rendre la pareille pour ce que tu as fait pour nous dans la forêt.

- Même si on aurait pu faire autant de dégâts,ajouta Fred. Pas avec nos poings, bien entendu.

- Une farce soigneusement préparée peut aussi faire office de vengeance parfaite.

Théodora sourit. Elle devina sans mal ce qu'ils avaient en tête et espérait bien avoir raison.

- Vous compter piéger Malefoy ?

Les jumeaux haussèrent les épaules, un air malicieux passa furtivement sur leurs visages.

- Nous préférons garder cela secret pour le moment.

- Pour garder l'effet de surprise.

Ils complétaient la phrase de l'autre. Théodora n'était pas étrangère au phénomène de gémellité mais elle se trouvait toujours fascinée devant l'étrange lien qui unissait les doubles. Leur synchronicité ne manquait jamais de l'amuser. Elle poussa un cri d'excitation.

- Comment ? Vous allez remplacer son shampoing par de la teinture ? Piéger son chaudron pour que celui-ci explose en cours de Potions ? Ensorceler sa plume pour transformer toutes ses dissertations en chansons grivoises ? Remplir ses chaussettes de veracrasses ? Lui envoyer des lettres d'amour en lui faisant croire que c'est Rusard qui les a écrites ?

Les jumeaux riaient, visiblement surpris de témoigner de tant d'espièglerie de sa part. Plus Théodora parlait, plus les idées fusaient dans sa tête. Elle avait toujours adoré les farces. Quand on grandit avec une sœur comme Nymphadora Tonks, la malice et la facétie devient une partie importante de votre vie. 

Petite et pas encore en âge d'étudier à Poudlard, à chaque vacance d'été, elle attendait le retour de sa sœur de l'école  avec impatience pour entendre toutes les fabuleuses aventures qu'elle avait vécues avec son amie Tulipe Karasu. Nymphadora ne manquait jamais alors de lui rapporter des produits de chez Zonko et les deux sœurs s'amusaient à les tester sur leurs parents ; ceux-ci faisaient d'abord mine de les réprimander mais finissaient toujours par s'écrouler de rire avec elles.

- Est-ce que je peux y participer ? S'il vous plaît, ajouta-t-elle face à leur étonnement.

Les jumeaux firent une moue appréciatrice.

- George, est-ce que tu penses à la même chose que moi ?

- Que Théodora devrait rejoindre notre trio chaotique ?proposa George d'un ton excité.

- Il nous faut un quatrième cerveau et elle a l'air plutôt futée.

- Moi, j'apprécie ses talents de bagarreuse. Elle a l'apparence fragile d'une licorne mais elle est aussi féroce qu'un chupacabra.

Ils échangèrent une poignée de main avant de passer chacun un bras autour des épaules de Théodora. L'odeur de la bouse de dragon restée accroché sur la chemise de Fred la fit grimacer.

- Théodora Tonks, je suis fière de t'annoncer qu'à partir d'aujourd'hui tu rejoins officiellement la cour des Grands.

Théodora demeura interdite. George resserra son étreinte et le halo de lumière qui l'entourait lui et son jumeau sembla s'étendre pour envelopper la jeune sorcière. Elle sortit de la serre à leurs côtés et quand les têtes se tournèrent vers ce nouveau trio, elle sut que sa vie était sur le point de changer à tout jamais.

- Bienvenue, petit chupacabra.

Unfunny, George Weasley x Fem. Reader

He does his best to cheer you up.

A/N: Based off a character ai bot I made, go check it out! The story is about period comfort, but it's only implied with the bot, so do with that what you will :) Also, sorry this one is kind of short 😔 https://share.character.ai/Wv9R/beiu733m

Enjoy!

_________________________

He tried to be the best boyfriend he could be. And he succeeded for the most part. The day had started off normal. Boring, mostly. He and Fred hadn't planned any pranks for today, so things were mellow. All up until you didn't show up to charms class, that was. He noticed almost immediately, as the two of you sat together in that class. The minutes ticked by, and you wete still nowhere to be seen. He glanced around the classroom. Nothing.

Passing period ended, and you hadn't shown. Half concerned half curious, he hopped out of his seat and walked over to your firend. If he didn't know where you were, then maybe they would. Much to his dismay, they said you'd gone to see Madame Pomfrey halfway through last class. Just then, Professor Flitwick walked into the classroom. He cursed inwardly and jogged back over to his seat. That complicated leaving class to go see you. His eyes flicked around the room with thoughts running a million miles per hour. Thinking up different ways to get out of class quickly and unnoticed. Or to come up with an excuse to leave. Something full proofed.

He sneaks a glance into his bag. Nothing. He just goes for it and rifles through it until he found something: Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder! It was perfect. Stealing another glance around the classroom to make sure nobody was looking at him, he concluded now was the time to strike. He chucked the block at the floor to which it instantly combusted and the room went pitch black. Panic set into the classroom and Flitwick shouted "Weasley!" He snickered and booked it out of the classroom while he could.

Sure enough, he found you curled up in one of the beds when he got to the hospital wing. He frowned inwardly and made his way over to your bed. "Lovey what're you doing in here?" His voice was laced with worry as he spoke. Upon hearing his voice, you turn your head to look up at him. "Hi George" He sighs, dropping his bag on the floor. "Hi love" You scoot forward a bit, allowing him to slip into the bed with you. His arm slides around your torso, pulling you close and pressing your back to his front.

And then it came to him. A joke! Jokes always help lighten the mood. "Hey love?" You hum in response, to focused on the pain in your lower abdomen to verbalize a response. "How does a wizard organize a party?" His question puzzled you a bit. Nonetheless though, you gave a proper response this time. "I dunno.. Why?" He let out a snicker. "He spells them out!" You couldn't hold in the snort you gave at his horrible joke. Only he could think of something so unfunny. "Oh please George" He laughed a little. "What, it's funny?" You shook your head lightly. "I promise you it's not" His lips returned to your shoulder, and trailed soft kisses to the junction where your neck met it.

It's silent between the two of you for a while. Madame Pomfrey wasn't anywhere to be seen, off getting more potions no doubt. His hand slowly rubbed your stomach, the touch gentle and soothing. He'd hoped that you would tell him what was the matter, but after a long silence he could guess you weren't. So, he asked. "You gonna tell me what's the matter love?" His voice came out a low murmur, to which an audible sigh left you. Followed by instant regret of doing so as it made your cramps worse. He felt you flinch slightly and he instinctively held you a little closer. "Yeah, cramps, mostly.. Madame Pomfrey excused me from class to lay here until they go away because she need to restock on stuff to make me feel better"

That answer answer made him internally frustrated. There wasn't much he could do to help you feel better. Not literally anyways. He could keep cuddling you for comfort on an emotional level, which he would, but that was about it. He pressed his lips to your shoulder as he thought hard about how to make you feel better. As he thunk, the hand he had on your stomach slid down to your lower abdomen and rubbed there instead. He furrowed his brow heavily. His mind was blank or dearth of useful ideas.

"I promise you it was"