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The sudden burst of motivation was just enough for a lil flirty scene but im oddly in love with it hehehe

I also started to do some anatomy studies again so hopefully my range of pose varies will expand soon :D 🩷

#bowuigi #bowser x luigi #art #flirtyvibes #luigi #bowser #digital artist #digital art #super mario

All Talk Except You

- Summary: The reader has a reputation at Hogwarts for being a shameless flirt with everyone, except Fred Weasley. At first, Fred doesn’t notice, but once his friends point it out, it drives him crazy. Confronting her in private, he discovers the truth: she only holds back with him because she actually likes him. What starts as teasing quickly turns into a heated make-out, proving that sometimes the best lines are the ones left unsaid.

- Word Count: 986

- Pairing: Reader x Fred Weasley

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You had a reputation at Hogwarts.

Not the scandalous kind, not really. But you were a shameless flirt, and everyone knew it. Your tongue was quick, your confidence unshakable, and you treated half the castle like your personal audience.

“Looking sharp today, Potter,” you called down the corridor one morning, letting your voice carry. “Save some charm for the rest of us, will you?”

Harry nearly tripped over his own feet, cheeks burning, while Ron groaned and Hermione muttered, “Honestly.”

At breakfast, you leaned across the table toward Seamus and Dean, chin propped in your hand. “So tell me, which one of you is secretly in love with me? Don’t make me guess, it’d be terribly unfair.”

Even the professors weren’t safe from your antics. Once, you swore you caught Professor Lupin hiding a smile when you told him, “If you weren’t my teacher, sir, I’d say you’ve got the most devastatingly mysterious smile in the castle.”

It was harmless fun. Nobody ever really thought you meant it. That was the trick you flirted with everyone, but never with your heart behind it.

Well. With one exception.

Fred Weasley.

Because Fred wasn’t just someone to banter with. He was someone who made your pulse jump when he walked into a room, someone who saw through your sharp grin, someone who made your stomach do ridiculous flips when he leaned too close. And so, you avoided flirting with him altogether.

You laughed at his jokes, sure, and traded sarcastic remarks. But never the same lines you threw at his friends, never the playful winks or lingering touches. With Fred, you were careful. Too careful.

And at first, Fred didn’t notice.

He and George laughed at your antics, elbowing each other whenever you turned the Great Hall into your stage. But then, during a late-night Quidditch strategy meeting, Lee Jordan said something that changed everything.

“You realize,” Lee said, smirking, “that she flirts with literally everyone but you, right?”

Fred froze, his quill hovering above the parchment.

George grinned wickedly. “Oh, he’s right. She told Ron he was looking dashing last week. Ron! But not a single line for you, brother.”

“She—” Fred began, waving them off. But his voice faltered. “She really doesn’t flirt with me?”

“Not once,” George confirmed gleefully. “Odd, isn’t it? You’d think you’d be first choice.”

For the first time, Fred felt a sting in his chest. He brushed it off, pretending it didn’t matter, but their words lodged themselves in his head like a splinter.

The next day, he noticed it everywhere.

In the courtyard, you twirled a strand of Parvati Patil’s hair between your fingers, whispering something that made her giggle. During Charms, you leaned over Harry’s desk, murmuring a compliment about his concentration that had him red as his Gryffindor tie. And in the common room that evening, you plopped down next to Neville, declaring, “Honestly, you’ve got the kindest smile in Gryffindor, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise.”

Fred felt his jaw tighten. His friends’ teasing replayed in his mind until he couldn’t sit still.

Why not him?

By the following evening, he’d had enough. Which is how you found yourself suddenly grabbed by the wrist and pulled into a quiet alcove on your way back from the library.

“Fred what the !” you sputtered, your back hitting the cool stone wall as he boxed you in, tall and very much in your space.

His grin was sharp, but there was fire in his eyes. “Got a question for you, sweetheart.”

You swallowed, clutching your books. “That’s… not how people usually start conversations.”

“Why is it,” Fred said, voice low, “that you’ve flirted with half the bloody castle, Harry, Seamus, even my prat of a brother”

“Hey!” you protested, cheeks burning.

“But never once with me?” His tone was almost playful, but there was something darker underneath. “What’s wrong with me?”

Your heart stopped. Of all the things you’d prepared for, Fred Weasley actually calling you out wasn’t one of them.

“I-I just don’t,” you stammered, avoiding his eyes.

“Don’t what?”

“I don’t know how,” you blurted.

He blinked, confused. “What do you mean you don’t know how? You’re the queen of it.”

You clenched your fists, heat rushing to your face. “Not with you. I don’t… I don’t know how to flirt with someone I actually like.”

The words hung heavy in the silence. Your chest rose and fell quickly, your heart threatening to burst out of your ribs. You wished you could sink through the floor.

And then Fred laughed.

Not mocking soft, disbelieving, as he’d just been handed the punchline to the greatest joke in the world.

“You mean to tell me,” he said, stepping closer, “that all that shameless flirting, all that confidence… and you go shy over me?”

You groaned, hiding your face in your hands. “Oh my God. Yes. Happy now?”

But Fred gently tugged your hands away, tilting your chin up so you had no choice but to meet his gaze. His eyes were warm, his smirk tugging at the corners of his mouth.

“Sweetheart,” he murmured, his thumb brushing over your cheek, “you don’t need lines with me.”

Your breath caught. “Shut up.”

“Make me.”

The books slipped from your grasp as he closed the distance, his lips crashing against yours. The kiss was urgent, searing, months of tension unraveling all at once. You melted against him, clutching his shirt as his hands slid around your waist, pulling you impossibly closer.

You’d kissed people before, flirted plenty, but nothing compared to this. Fred kissed like he’d been waiting for it, like he was claiming something he’d always known was his.

When you finally broke apart, both of you breathless, he leaned his forehead against yours, his grin wicked and triumphant.

“Merlin, if I’d known that’s what it took to shut you up,” he teased, brushing his nose against yours, “I’d have done it ages ago.”

You huffed, though your lips were still tingling. “Don’t get used to it.”

But when he kissed you again, slower, deeper, devastating, you knew he already had you right where he wanted you.