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[wwhiteferrett]

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[viperify]

nerd!Tom loves grinding his cock over your pussy!

warnings: mature content. nerd!Tom uses you (and your pussy) as a study reward. no p in v, just some messy grinding, he cums on our pussy, cum play, fingering, LOTS OF PRAISE!

author's note: I intended this to be shorter but ig I have to make up for my absence anyway so...

wordcount: 1,9k

Innocent cuddling with Tom is nearly unheard of. Whenever he has you waiting for him on his bed after a long day of reading and revising for his next presentation or exam, his first instinct is to hold you close, to nuzzle his face into the crook of your neck and breathe in your scent.

And sometimes, right then, he'd drift off to a peaceful nap. His larger body splayed over yours as his chest rises and falls gently—and you'd join him not too long after, relishing the rare moments you get to have him just for yourself, your fingers tracing the subtle muscles on his back, soothing the strain of supporting his tireless efforts to remain Hogwarts' top student.

However, most of the time, it is not quite that innocent.

Because not only is your boyfriend a nerd who spends nearly every single minute of his free time combing through a massive pile of books and documents, no, he's also a needy freak, contrary to the belief of perhaps… everyone else.

Believe it or not, he enjoys being on top of you more than he enjoys being on top of every class—he said so himself after all, intoxicated by the feeling of your sweet pussy squeezing around him, his mind hazy with lust.

But still, they were his words.

And Tom lives up to them. No matter how tired his eyes are or how much his back aches from being hunched over books all day, he still finds time for you, finds the energy to rut his thick cock into your warm walls, even if gently and awfully slowly so.

Today has been no different. You've been in his dorm for hours while he is preparing for an upcoming Potions project, which he's only aware of because he's Slughorn's favourite student and he let him know. Claiming he needs to be ahead of everyone else if he wanted to score another Outstanding, Tom naturally hasn't rested since.

You do not try to argue with him anymore, try to tell him that even if he started two weeks after everyone else, he'd still receive just the same grade.

Instead, you've been watching him, splayed across his huge bed, which he has the honour of owning as a Prefect and Head Boy, distracting yourself with a novel (non-educational, obviously) until he had enough and joined you. The sun had just started to set at that point, weak rays bathing his dorm in a subtle golden glow. Tom crossed the bed, crawled over you, and fit his body perfectly between your legs, resting his head on your chest.

And now, just a few minutes later—all of his usual innocence has evaporated at last. His hips rut his full-blown erection against your lower tummy, his hot breaths coming fast and laboured as his face stays buried in the crook of your neck.

"So good to me," he whimpers, one of his warm hands on your thigh, holding you open for him, the other interlocked with yours. "So patient."

You hum in agreement, angling your hips upwards so as to encourage him to finally get on with it—and Tom gets the hint, although a little differently than you anticipated.

He flips up your skirt, having it pool around your waist, and then sits back and studies you. His gaze is fixed on the damp spot that has formed on the cotton lining of your panties, swallowing the urge to be inside you.

"So pretty," he murmurs, his thumb brushing along the length of your slick underwear, tracing your slit through the fabric until he reaches what he knows to be your clit—applying gentle pressure, circling slowly with just the tip of his thumb.

Tom observes your every reaction—from the way your lips part for a silent gasp to your hips bucking off the bed, chasing his touch, begging him for more. And if he is being truthful with himself… neither does he have the patience to wait any longer.

He hurriedly tugs his trousers and underwear down his legs, carelessly discarding them somewhere on the floor before he hovers over you again, pressing a gentle kiss to your lips—but as soon as you hook your fingers into your panties, he grabs your wrist and stops you.

"Don't undress," he whispers, looking down at you with his gentle, brown eyes, placing your hand beside you. "I'd like for you to keep them on for now."

You meet his gaze with a confused expression, but you nod nonetheless—anything if he finally lets you feel him.

His head dips to brush kisses down the side of your neck, and the next moment his body lowers to rest on top of yours—his cock perfectly nestled between your thighs, rubbing against your clothed pussy with every slight twitch of his hips.

"Tom, please, I—" you whine, wrapping your legs around his lower back, pressing yourself up against him. "I've been waiting so long, please don't— oh—"

"Shhh," Tom murmurs with a strained voice, nipping at your throat gently, grinding his length along your soaked panties, the head of his cock brushing over your swollen clit with every tender move of his hips. "Need you like this. It'll feel so good, I promise. You trust me, right?"

You nod eagerly, trying your best to concentrate on the blissful, tingly feeling in your core whenever you feel the slightest friction where you desire it most. "Yes, Tommy. Please, more."

He hums lowly in approval, his hands at the back of your head, tilting your head towards his to kiss you thoroughly this time. "Good girl. So perfect, allowing me to have you like this."

You open your mouth to respond, though the only sound that leaves you is a broken moan, thighs trembling as he sets a cruel pace, making sure to give your clit just enough attention to make you soft and pliant beneath him.

Tom continues with this for what feels like an eternity—rutting his hot, thick erection against your pussy, swollen and dripping with need at a cruel, slow pace. Your arousal has long soaked through the thin cotton fabric and inevitably coated his cock in a glistening layer of your combined arousal, his precum adding to the mess where your bodies are tightly connected.

You're so drunk on the feeling of his cock grinding over your pussy, you at first don't even recognise the warmth of your climax building low in your tummy—but he does.

Because it is not solely you whose senses are screaming for more.

Tom craves the feeling of your slick pussy, of your tight heat embracing him, pulsing around him—and so, he gently tugs your panties to the side, watching as his cock disappears between your glistening folds.

He nearly comes then and there just from the sweet, wet warmth of your skin on his, groaning as he slips upwards with ease, his hips stuttering at the increased sensitivity. "Fuck, darling— what on earth are you doing to me?"

His tip reappears to bump against your sensitive bud, having you moan in pleasure, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, holding his gaze. "Don't— don't stop."

Tom shakes his head, lips parted as his breathing grows heavier with each passing second, and brushes a kiss on your jaw. "I wouldn't dream of it."

And then, a split second later, his pace quickens—he's grinding against you with purpose now, mumbling strings of praises while he makes you watch his swollen cock make a mess of your pussy, gliding between your folds as though it had belonged there all this time.

The room fills with your combined sounds of pleasure, with the slick noises of him gliding between your puffy, sticky folds and his endless praises for you.

When you get too wet, he uses his thumb to keep himself from slipping out, and you nearly lose it at the increased pressure and precision.

If he doesn't stop this soon, you'll lose your damn mind.

"Tom, I need you inside— inside, please," you cry out, your climax approaching fast while you can't do anything but take what he's currently giving you—perfectly angled thrusts right over your clit, which have you seeing stars.

But Tom has different plans.

He sits up just slightly, letting his cock slip free to guide it lower towards your entrance—but instead of pushing inside, he merely lets his tip bump against your drooling hole, with three or four shallow thrusts. Enough to give you an idea of what he'd feel like inside—heavy and leaky, thick veins bulging beneath his skin and stretching across his entire length, yet not to actually push inside.

Damn him.

As hopeful as you were—the feeling is gone as soon as it came.

"I want you to come for me," Tom rasps, grinding against your sloppy folds again. "Just like this. Nothing else—just me, here."

"You're— oh God, you're impossible," you whine, but cannot deny that your orgasm isn't far—and Tom knows it.

With every rough thrust, his hand guides himself to where you need him most, and within minutes he has you right where he wants you—on the very brink of your climax, begging the waves to consume you whole.

Tom too is close, breathlessly whispering praises as his head dips to your neck once more. "So beautiful, sweetheart, so good to me— always so patient and pliant, I— fuck—"

His thrusts falter then, cock twitching between your sticky folds, a throaty groan escaping him when ropes of thick, white cum paint your glistening pussy opaque white. It's so much, you can feel it seeping down the length of your slit, gathering at your neglected hole before it drips onto the silk comforter beneath you.

Tom allows his senses to return to him before he lifts himself off you, appreciating the mess between your thighs—and when you try to close your legs, he stops you.

"Just a little bit longer, darling. Show me how pretty you look," he says, and you obey.

His fingers trace the white residue, smearing it where it belongs—in between your folds and over your clit. You whimper, back arching off the bed at the touch, and just like you've wanted it all along, two of his long, slender fingers gently slip inside your warm walls, using his cum as additional lube—not that you need it, but the mere sight of it has his cock hardening once more.

Tom curls his fingers just right—rubbing over that perfect spot inside you while his other hand takes care of your puffy clit.

"Tommy, mmph— fuck!"

A smirk tugs on his lips at the state of you—all fucked out even though he never let you feel him inside you in the first place, his fingers eliciting the sweetest moans from your bite-swollen lips, teary eyes staring up at him.

Just how he likes you.

"Come for me, pretty girl. Show me how good you can truly be."

thank you so much for reading! <3 feel free to reblog and leave feedback! :3 — masterlist. | oneshots.

©2026 viperify. please do not copy, translate or claim my work as your own.

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yall vs me (ily baby)

[wwhiteferrett]

bunny | george weasley

summary: george needs a partner for an upcoming wedding so he doesnt seem ‘lonely.’ his plan to have a fake relationship with you grows into something…more. warnings: none, sfw, fluff, kissing pairing: bestfriend!george x fem!reader - post war wc: 4.2k a/n: based off of a matchup i did <3

You chopped the green cilantro on the wooden chopping board, humming a familiar tune under your breath. The window perched above the kitchen sink let light seep in onto your freshly tanned skin.

The smell of paprika and pepper wafted through the air; you inhaled the delicious scent and smiled in contentment. 

George and Lee had invited themselves over—again.

“To brainstorm,” George had said, with that stupid grin. “Your cooking is simply unavoidable…well- sometimes."

You laughed to yourself at the memory, knowing you smacked him on the arm after the comment. 

You were cooking his favorite food: chicken and lime rice. 

Dropping the cilantro into the sizzling pan with the chicken, you put the cover on it. You checked the time: 6:00. They’d be here at any second—

CRASH.

You jolted up, looking around to see where the commotion came from. Grabbing the kitchen knife, you slowly stepped into the living room.

“Oi! Lee! You alive?”

“Asshole!”

Your shoulders dropped—just a…burnt George and Lee.

“Knife!” George shrieked, pointing his wand at your hand.

“Floo powder? Are you serious?” You sighed, placing the kitchen knife down on a coffee table. “Was the front door not good enough?” 

Lee had bits of coal all over his face, coughing up dust as he got up from the ground. "George said it'd be faster."

"George also thinks birds aren’t real." After taking a good look at your dirty rug, you rubbed your temples. “Is everyone…okay?” 

“Yup–well, Lee, maybe not so okay–ouch!” George jumped back as Lee pinched his arm. “I’m sorry, okay? I thought you’d already arrived!”

“I’m holding this against you forever, mate.”

George ran a hand through his dusty hair. Clearing his throat, he shone a toothy smile at you. “Miss me yet, Y/N?”

“I saw you yesterday, George.”

“Exactly. Who wouldn’t miss my gorgeous face?”

“I wouldn’t.”

George raised his eyebrows. “Grumpy today, huh? Got a lil’ cloud over your head.” His grin faltered after he observed your sternness. “Just kidding with you. How’ve you been?”

You placed a hand on your hip. “...I was doing fine before you ruined my living room.” 

George looked around: your pearly white couch was matted with soot, the side table was knocked over, and a small fire was starting in front of the fireplace.

“Adds some character.” George shrugged. “Needed some color anyway. White’s a depressing color.”

Lee butted in. “Quite the opposite, George.”

“If this isn’t cleaned in the next ten seconds, I’m kicking you both out.” You playfully threatened. 

Immediately, Lee blew out the fire as George waved his wand at the fallen table, fixing it. Lee jumped onto the couch, sending dark dust into the air and off it. 

“All clean! How long was that—seven seconds?” Lee said cheekily. George pinched his lips into a line, suppressing a laugh. 

You rolled your eyes and walked back into the kitchen. “Come and sit down, you troublemakers.”

This dinner would surely be entertaining.

—

“Y’know, you could go pro with this cooking,” Lee munched, rice all over his chin. 

“I second that. How do you cook this amazingly?” George shoved another bite of chicken into his mouth.

“Thank you. I just tried a new recipe,” You smiled, taking a sip of water. “Mrs. Weasley makes great chicken noodle soup; maybe I should ask her for that recipe as well…” You thought aloud. 

Lee nearly choked on his rice.

Eyes wide, you slapped his back in an attempt to help. “LEE!”

George snickered at the sight; Lee’s eyes started to tear up as he waved a hand for you to stop.

“Ouch! Y/N, I’m okay!” Lee assured, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Merlin, I saw your spirit rise from your body.” George joked, taking a sip of water.

“What even happened?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

Lee exchanged a glance with George. Something… mischievous flickered across the brunette boy’s face.

“Don’t,” George mumbled, eyeing Lee.

Lee grinned. 

“Molly had quite a lot to say to George a few days ago, Y/N-”

“Lee!” George hissed.

“Maybe you could lend a hand, help out one of your best friends-”

“Ignore him, Y/N,” 

“What did Mrs. Weasley say?” You inquired, disregarding George’s feeble shots to shut Lee up.

“Molly thinks it’s time for George to find someone to settle down with.”

You nearly choked as well—this time on air and pure shock.

A beat of silence followed.

George ran a hand down his face as Lee tried not to laugh.

No corny remark or an off-putting joke. Just accepting what Lee said.

“I’m going to kill you, Lee.” The ginger muttered. 

“What’re you getting at? That I need to be George’s girlfriend?” You raised your eyebrows, looking at the two boys.

“Well-“

“Lee.”

“George was saying if you could-“

“Lee, I’ll just tell her, okay?” George sighed loudly, leaning back into the chair and looking at you with unsure eyes. “Mum thinks I’m…busying myself with work too much. Said I need to find someone.” 

“Not just that, Georgie,” Lee teased. “The wedding.”

Your eyes widened. You knew exactly where this was going.

“Right…the wedding. My family’s been invited to a wedding, and I don’t want to seem…” George’s eyes flickered away, his mind shifting to find a proper word.

“Lonely?” You offered quietly.

George nodded—almost hesitantly. “Yeah, you could say that." He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, looking at his hands. “...Mum keeps mentioning this wedding…and…”

“Get on with it, you booger,” Lee huffed in impatience. 

George kicked Lee’s shin under the table. “...It would be incredibly stupid to ask you this…”

“George. Get it out.” You prodded.

“Wouldyoupretendtobemygirlfriend?” George said it so quickly, you couldn’t even make out any words.

“Huh?” You and Lee said at the same time, confused.

“Mate, she’d have to understand you first before she can say yes,” Lee sniggered, taking a sip of his water.

With another deep breath, George asked, “Would you pretend to be…my girlfriend…for one night?”

Your lips parted.

Watching your concerned face, he gave a crooked, reassuring smile. “No pressure, though…If being in a fake relationship wasn’t on your bucket list…I totally get it.” 

Shaking your head, you placed both your hands on the table. “No, I’m game. Whatever I can do to help you.” 

George raised a brow. “No negotiation?”

“Should’ve charged you, actually.”

“Too late.” A sly grin replaced his warm smile. 

A glint in his eyes said more than enough; you would do anything for your best friend.

—

“This dress is too uncomfortable,” You complained, tugging at the hem of the dress. It was a dreamy, flowy dress that complemented your body, which accentuated your curves. The only issue was the lacy rim, which aggravated your fragile skin. 

The lace brushed against the inside of your arms, already making you itch.

You'd spent years learning how to hide the worst of your eczema.

Some days were easier than others. Today? Not so compliant.

George and Lee knew that it was your worst enemy—but they didn’t know how insecure it made you. 

“You look great, Y/N. Spectacular, even.” George comforted. Before you could thank him, he whispered, “Not as good as me, though.”

You flicked his head, scowling. “Incredibly funny, Georgie.”

You were standing in front of the Burrow with the ginger close beside you.

“Are you ready?” George smiled, nudging your side.

You nudged him back. “Of course.”

He opened the wooden door, and you were greeted with the familiar Weasley scent of cinnamon, pumpkin, and coffee beans. 

The warm lighting kissed your skin as you walked further into the home. George softly shut the door behind him, then rubbed your shoulder. “You’re shaking like Ron’s old rat.”

You scoffed. “It’s cold.”

“Want my jacket?”

You looked at him. “That’s for after.”

Laughter erupted from the living room—a few steps away and you would be face to face with Mrs. Weasley.

“Look like we’re in love,” George whispered. Patting down your hair, you followed George into the full living room.

“And then, Ginny decided it would be the perfect time to jump off the platform!”

Mrs. Weasley slapped her knee; everyone roared with laughter again. 

Then, Mrs. Weasley’s eyes flickered to the corner in which you and George awkwardly stood. With wide eyes, she basically screamed.

“Oh my days!” Jumping up from the spot on her couch, she ran over and engulfed both you and George into a tight embrace. “My precious babies! How have you been? Both of you?”

You tried to speak, but your air circulation was compressed.

“Mum-” George choked out.

“Oh- Sorry!” Mrs. Weasley let go, stepping back and looking both of you up and down. 

Once her eyes fell on you, they stayed there. 

Her jaw slackened.

A silence—filled with realization—flowed through the entire room.

“George!” Mrs. Weasley gasped. 

“Mum,” George grinned. “Y/N and I are-”

“Georgie!” Mrs. Weasley swallowed him in a hug again. “I thought the day would never come!”

“Mum, I can’t-” George patted her back weakly. The cheeky woman let go of George’s lanky body and patted his cheek.

Observing you both for a moment, Mrs. Weasley seemed like she was… waiting.

George froze—you did too. 

All eyes were on you two.

You felt a gentle touch on the side of your hand.

“Holding hands now?” You hissed, barely audible.

“I- I don’t know,” George whispered awkwardly.

“You’re supposed to know!”

“You’re the one with relationship experience.”

“A bold, outrageous assumption, George.”

George glanced down at your hand, hesitated, then carefully laced his fingers through yours.

Mrs. Weasley practically melted.

“How adorable! I can’t even process this!” she gushed. “You’ve always been the good-looking boy, Georgie.”

Someone snorted from the couch. Looking past the ginger-haired woman, you saw a giggling Ginny Weasley.

“I always thought he was the ugliest one, Mum,” Ginny quipped.

You smiled at her, then noticed a dressed-up Hermione, Harry, and Ron sitting near her. They fell into silent laughter as Mrs. Weasley shot a glare at her. 

“Be happy your brother even found someone, Gin.” 

“Are we ready to go?” A rough voice called out from the entrance. Peeking, you saw Arthur Weasley in an orange suit. “Time to Apparate!”

“Honey, come here, come here!” Mrs. Weasley hurried to her husband, pulling him into the living room. 

“Your hands are freezing.” You said under your breath.

“You’re the one shaking.” George shot back.

“I’m uneasy.”

“About what exactly?”

“You make me uneasy.”

“That could mean many things.”

You sighed. “Take it as you will, Georgie.”

Suddenly, you were face-to-face with a tired-looking man you knew well. 

“Y/N! George! How nice to…” Mr. Weasley trailed off, taking in the sight. “Is this…wait…Molly!”

“Yes, Arthur! They’re together!”

Mr. Weasley bear-hugged you, careful not to mess up your hair.

“He chose the best of the best, for sure.” Mr. Weasley let go of you, cheekily smiling. You returned a small smile. “And good job, son.” The stubby man lovingly patted his son’s shoulder.

“Are we going now?” Ron complained with a sigh. 

“Let’s go, children!” Mr. Weasley announced, and everyone made their way out of the house. 

You stayed back with George, still awkwardly holding his calloused hand. 

“Still shaking, huh?” He teased. 

You scowled. “I already told you. I’m just…nervous.”

“About what? You never explained to me.”

A tense moment—like a heartbeat or a blink of an eye.

“... Disappointing your family.”

George’s eyes widened. “You? Disappoint? Do you even know who you are?”

“Just…me,” You mumbled, looking at your heels.

George let go of your hand and placed his hands on your shoulders. “Look, if you think my family hates you for being my…girlfriend, they don’t. They’re just in shock.”

“Lovebirds! We’re going!” Bill called out.

George reassuringly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, murmuring, “Just keep being you. They love you for you.”

You both walked out of the Burrow and prepared to Apparate.

—

One word to describe this wedding: overwhelming.

“I didn’t know you had a million aunts and uncles,” you joked, nudging George’s arm. He rolled his eyes. 

You two have been approached about four times in the past five minutes since you arrived. 

“George!” An elderly woman called out from a table. George took a breath, then turned to face her. 

“Hello, Aunt May,” He greeted. 

“Who’s this beauty?” Aunt May wiggled her brows. She was obviously drunk.

You waved. “Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Have you two kissed yet?” She asked groggily. 

You stilled. 

No one’s asked that before.

“Um-” 

“We’ll see you around, May.” George took your hand and guided you away from the drunken woman. 

“What the hell was that about?” You questioned, weaving through the crowd of people around the refreshment table.

“She’s always like that.” He replied casually. 

“Georgie-kins!” 

George groaned as you stifled a laugh. Turning around, you faced another woman—a lot older, with smile wrinkles and greyish hair.

“Hi, Aunt Junie.” 

“How have you been? I haven’t seen your cute face in years!” The woman grinned, patting his shoulder. Her eyes fell on you; her smile broadened at the sight of you. “Is this your girlfriend?”

“Yup. Y/N L/N. My girlfriend.” George said, almost proudly.

“You two look adorable together—like two fitting puzzle pieces. Perfect.” 

You smiled politely, beaming. “Thank you so much.”

“Very kind of you to say, Aunt Junie.”

“Couples!”

You and George looked back to see a giddy man with a large camera. 

“Huh?”

“Come on! Get closer,” The man beamed.

You moved closer to the ginger boy.

“Closer! You’re cutting out the frame.” 

Another inch. You were basically squished against his arm.

“Come on, do you two even like each other?” The cameraman joked. 

George deeply exhaled, moved behind you, and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Is this good?” George asked the red-cheeked man. He nodded enthusiastically. 

“Say chili-cheese dog!”

“Chili-cheese- wait, what?”

The flash went off, basically blinding you and George. 

“Ow.” You squeezed your watery eyes shut.

“Take a look!”

The picture was a grainy, black-and-white photo. You could make out both of your confused faces—in general, a not-so-attractive picture.

“Thank you.” You smiled at the man. “Keep it, though. But thank you.” 

George led you away to an open table. Sitting down, you caught your breath. This entire wedding party had been insanely overwhelming, but the most stressful thing was your damn dress.

You discreetly adjusted the cuff again.

“That’s the eighth time you’ve fixed your sleeve,” George mumbled, looking into the distance.

You paused, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve…noticed?” 

“I always do.” He did a double-take. “Not- not like that. I just sensed you’re uncomfortable…like you got ants in your dress.”

“What if I did?”

“I’d let them eat you.”

Your laughter doubled. “Very evil, you are.”

“Is it…your eczema?” George asked quietly in a more serious manner.

“Is it obvious?”

He shook his head. “Only ‘cause I’ve known you forever.”

You hummed in response, absentmindedly tracing your fingernails over the dry patch of skin.

Another scratch.

It was getting worse by the second.

You scratched it—harder this time. Maybe the itch would go away? 

Suddenly, you felt a cold hand touch yours, pushing it down to your lap.

“Y/N…”

You looked up at George. He was…worried.

“Yeah?”

“You’re…hurting yourself.”

He said it calmly. Not bombarding or judgemental. It was gentle.

The noise from the music blurred like static to your ears. 

“I-I know. It- I just hate it.”

“Hate your skin?”

“Yeah. Basically.”

“I think it makes you unique.” The corners of George’s lips twitched upward. His hand was still placed on top of yours. There was no one to deceive—no need to pretend, yet George still…held on to you.

“Oi! George!” Ron yelled. “Help with the cake, will ya?”

George sighed, standing up and patting your shoulder. “No more scratching, okay? Or Mum’s gonna think I got a cat to attack you.”

You snickered, watching him walk away to a struggling Ron and Harry.

—

“They were children, George,” You laughed, arm linked with his. You were exiting the party, sweaty from the final game they hosted.

“They were opponents, Y/N.” He reprimanded. 

“How do you feel now you’ve made five children cry?”

George shrugged with a grin. “Accomplished.” He patted your back. “You did pretty good for your first time playing that game.”

“I know. Horrifying, but worth it.”

Once the night autumn breeze hit your skin, you shivered involuntarily. 

“Cold?” George asked, slipping off his coat. 

“No, I’m-” Your teeth chattered before you could stop it.

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah. I am.”

He put the black coat over your shoulders, and you were consumed with warmth.

“Thank you.” You looked up at him with a small smile.

“Anything to not let you freeze to death,” George responded with a wink.

“George, dear, are you and Y/N coming back to the Burrow?” Mrs. Weasley asked, walking next to her son. 

“I think we’re calling it in early tonight, Mum,” George answered. 

“Oh, well, Y/N should come over for dinner on Sunday! Bill is bringing Fleur, too.” 

You raised your eyebrows. 

George looked just as worried.

“What do you think, Y/N? Think you’ll be able to make it, honey?” Mrs. Weasley prompted. 

You didn’t know what to say; unsure, you looked at George. He gave a look that said go with it.

“Um- yes! I’ll see my schedule. I would love to come, though!” You said with a warm smile. 

“Perfect! I can’t wait to see you again, sweet pea!” Mrs. Weasley gave you another motherly embrace and a kiss on the cheek. “Save Apparating, okay?” She tottered away back to her husband and the others.

“Another day I need to pretend to be your significant other?” You sighed. 

“I’m…sorry. I didn’t know this would be a repeating thing.” George scratched the nape of his neck. 

“It’s no problem. I’m okay with it. As long as your mother is happy with both of us…”

George hummed in agreement. 

“I should go home now.” You said after a second.

“I’ll come with you.”

Both of you Apparated to the front of your home. The moon glistened with a pearly white aura; the wind howled hard.

“Well, I’ll owl you.” You said slowly. You walked to the entrance and unlocked your door, George at your side.

“Yeah. Thanks for…making this wedding fun. Without you, I think I would've died from boredom.”

You giggled. “No problem. The cake was amazing.”

“When you smudged some on my face, sure.”

“Don’t hold a grudge over me.”

“Can’t promise it.”

George held eye contact with you for a few seconds, then dropped it. 

“It’s late. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Sweet dreams to you too, Georgie.” You grinned, opening your door and shutting it behind you.

His soft eyes.

His light touch.

The wrinkles near his eyes when he smiled.

The way he cared.

It made your heart melt, all warm and fluffy inside.

…Was this…

Love…?

—

“How nice to see you again, Y/N!” Mrs. Weasley smiled as she opened the door. “You look so beautiful!” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you again for inviting me for dinner.” You walked into the warm house; you heard a familiar ring of chatter and laughter in the dining room.

“My pleasure, sweetheart! George isn’t here yet, had to get something. Come sit down; the food is nearly ready.” Mrs. Weasley steered you into the packed room and led you to an empty seat.

Two empty seats, one for you and one for George.

You sat down on the wooden chair, Ginny next to you.

“Hi, Y/N. You look really nice.” Ginny greeted you with a small smile.

“Oh! Um- thank you, Ginny. You smell great too!” You replied. “Wait- I mean, you look great.”

Ginny burst into laughter at your mess-up. “I don’t know how George did it. You’re, like, a hundred times funnier than him.” 

“Yeah, I…I try.” You gave her a subtle grin. 

The front door creaked open, letting in the dim sunset light. George walked into the dining room and looked around the room, cluelessly.

“Idiot,” Ginny whispered to you. “Oi! Here, dumbass!” 

George's eyes landed on you, and his lips cracked a smile.

“Hey, Y/N,” George said as he sat down next to you. 

“You don’t call her any nicknames?” Ginny asked. 

Your heart dropped. 

Oh god, please don’t, George, you thought, closing your eyes.

“Nicknames?” George inquired, fear lacing his voice. “Like…what?”

“‘Baby’, ‘love’, y’know, those cute lovey-dovey names,” Ginny informed.

“I do…call her those…sometimes.” George looked at you in panic. Help! he mouthed.

“Um- he does; he doesn’t do those names; he does an actual nickname.” You explained. Shoot! What am I getting at? What type of question is that anyway?

“Aw, like what?” Ginny prodded.

“Bunny.” George blurted.

“What?” Ron suppressed a laugh, looking at us from across the table. 

“Her patronus is a hare. And she's like a bunny. It makes sense, dimwit.” George scowled. 

“I think that’s adorable. George is like a carrot. You two were meant to be.” Ginny tilted her head to the side in admiration. “How cute.”

“Food’s ready!” Mrs. Weasley called out. The food came floating in by magic, then was placed in a sloppy line on the table.

“Gosh, my favorite,” You whispered to George. “Chicken noodle soup.”

“Ask her for the recipe.” 

“I’m too scared.”

“Mum!”

Mrs. Weasley looked at George. “Yes, dear?”

“Y/N’s asking for the recipe for your chicken soup."

Your face went red; you wanted to shrink yourself on the spot.  

“My recipe? Of course, sweetie! I’ll write it up before you leave,” Mrs. Weasley said sweetly.

“Thank you so much.” You said, still quite embarrassed. 

George nudged your arm. “Not that hard. She won’t bite your head off.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve seen her attempt that with you. I’m not taking any chances.”

“So, how did you two start dating?” Mr. Weasley asked.

You almost choked on a noodle. “How we…started-”

“Dating, yes! I’m curious.” 

You looked at George.

 Merlin.

“She hit me,” George started.

“What?” Your eyes widened.

“With a cookbook.”

“I did not!”

The table rose with chuckles. 

“She was teaching me her chicken recipe. Delicious, by the way.” George continued, ignoring your protests. “Fell in love with her after she cooked for me.”

“No way this is true.” Ginny giggled, intently listening.

“She’s just embarrassed.” George nudged your arm.

“You’re impossible.” You put your head in your hands. 

"Well, that's certainly more romantic than how Molly and I met." Mr. Weasley grunted.

“...Dad.” George rolled his eyes.

“What?” 

“How lovely!” Mrs. Weasley said cheekily, interrupting the conversation. “There is no better girl than Y/N, I can tell you that. You truly are one of a kind, missy.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’m honestly glad you raised such a great young man.”

George looked over at you, then brushed his hand against yours from under the table.

You slid your hand into his, squeezing it gently.

—

After dinner, you needed to get home to prepare for work the next day. 

You said goodbye to everyone, then apparated back home with George at your side.

“Y/N…” George stopped you before you could enter your house. 

“Mhm?”

“I think I should tell Mum.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tell her what?”

“About…us.”

“Oh. Right. Forgot about that.”

An awkward silence rose between you two. You looked at your shoes.

“Well, I’ll…I’ll owl you what happens, then.” George weakly smiled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

As he turned to apparate, you grabbed his hand.

Startled, he looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“George…” You started, but you couldn’t find the words. “I…” 

The ginger boy stood there, patiently waiting, looking at you with caring eyes.

“I don’t want you to tell Molly,” you rushed to explain. “Not that I’m embarrassed…it’s just…” You shifted uncomfortably, racking your mind for something to say. “This didn’t feel fake. This felt so…real.”

George’s lips parted in shock as he stared at you. “It didn’t?”

“No, George, it felt so…genuine to me,” you breathed.

A small laugh escaped his lips—out of relief, you assumed. 

“Merlin," he grinned. "I've been trying to figure out how to tell you that all week."

You blinked at him. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just saying I was feeling something more than just…friendship.” Looking down, he mumbled, “I would’ve missed this…all of this—the family dinners and spending more time with you—” 

You stepped closer to him, closing in the small gap, and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

George was frozen at first, but then melted into it; he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer into him, and deepened the kiss with a smile on his lips.

The years of friendship and silent admiration—and now, you’re against him, under the moonlight, kissing.

A sweet, loving kiss that spoke more about your feelings than words ever could.

After a few heavenly seconds, you let go of his soft lips and looked up at his wide, precious eyes. 

“Then you won’t have to miss it,” you grinned, slinging your arms around his neck. “I’ll still be right here.”

[ghostofadaughter]

aaagh guys a classic fake dating trope done with sincerity, in which two people who already love each other get the chance to love freely in a way they never considered but realized they should have.

i find @wwhiteferrett is so good at depicting love at its purest. the awkwardness, the nerves, the anticipation, the thrill of the unknown, the laughter… they write in a way that makes you understand why love feels so important to people.

this also made me want to solidify a headcanon that george weasley doesn’t have the gene in which cilantro tastes like soap, which means he can fully enjoy various cuisines with cilantro!

[wwhiteferrett]

this is so sweet, thank you for the support - im so happy you appreciate and find love within my work.

(cilantro tastes like freedom and is freedom. i will stand on this hill until i die!)

i cannot wait to see you write and grow <3

[wwhiteferrett]

so i uh made a hermione playlist :3 veryvery thought daughter vibes

if u guys wanna look, click here !!

[wwhiteferrett]

hello! i'd love to request a Harry Potter matchup, please!

specifically the Marauders era...

straight, she/her

-

music taste: pop, alt, r&b, hip-hop, basically stuff that makes me feel confident and baddie, and makes me feel hot lmaooo... stuff that makes me dance. i CAN'T STAND sad music... ig if the beat is danceable but the lyrics is sad, that's acceptable i guess, but i can't stand anything sadder than that.

i loveee sabrina carpenter, madison beer, elyanna (but i kinda just listen to songs i like from random artists)

-

appearance: 5'2, chest-length dark brown (basically black) hair. My hair is technically straight, but it has lots of waves and very tiny curls hidden in there, so i consider it wavy lol.

I'm light-skinned, but i'm middle eastern-american though.

I have a slightly thin hourglass figure, semi-large chest.

I have a heart-shaped face.

Black thick, bushy eyebrows. Button nose. Very dark brown roundish eyes. heart-shaped lips. i have a barely noticeable mole on my chin.

-

personality: Kind, Smart, Talented, Quiet, Shy, Awkward, Jealous, Judgemental, Impatient, Anxious, Worried, Sensitive, Introverted, Perceptive, Intuitive, Cowardly, Understanding, Straight-forward, People-pleaser, trust issues.

PASSIONATE (i can be kinda intense and excited when i talk about stuff i love, so i tend to kinda tone it down a bit to not scare people away😭)

i hold grudges!!!!!!! and don't forgive or forget.

i can randomly become sarcastic, but only when i'm really comfortable with someone.

i tend to laugh/chuckle/smile awkwardly when i'm feeling embarrassed or uncomfortable or awkward or anything like that.

I get really tough headaches that are a mix between tension headaches and a migraine (when i'm really anxious/overthinking something i have going on for the day) and they cause me to not be able to do anything but sleep (i take it as like, my body forcing me to rest lolli).

lowkey have anger issues (can control them, but i get angry inwards and i barely let it show).

i don't rest until i fulfill what i set my mind to, no matter how long it takes.

i can't control my facial expressions whatsoever... i can be quiet for hours and my face will tell u everything i'm thinking.

i'm pretty fidgety, especially with my hair.

when i'm really comfortable with someone i sometimes randomly playfully poke them/"hit" them (not roughly, just playfully).

Since a really young age, i've had a slouching problem, and i struggle with sitting up-right and i've had back pain.

I struggle with sleeping/i'm a really light sleeper... i guess i could say i have insomnia.

hogwarts house: ravenclaw with very heavy slytherin in me… i go back and forth and i've spent years trying to figure out which i am lol, it's a long story.

-

green flags: supportive, flexible, really good listener, can be a hypewoman at times (hyping you up), always sending good vibes and prayers to those i love/care about, always trying to help in any way and giving advice when someone vents/has a problem.

red flags: lowkey kinda toxic in relationships/friendships (in terms of possession, jealousy, insecurity, accusatory), huge gatekeeper, mostly do things for my own benefit, i tend to pull away/get scared/kinda "fall out of love" i guess when someone gets too close or when things are going really well, struggle with communication + people pleaser.

-

dislikes: jealous/envious people, rude/mean people, being abandoned, not having control (of myself/life... not necessarily others), people who are always so negative and are always worrying and causing me to be even more anxious/worried than i already am, people who over-exaggerate a story/something that happened & add untrue details (ESPECIALLY if it's a story about me/involves me)

-

hobbies/likes: Singing, Acting, Reading, (belly) dancing, analyzing characters

YOUR MATCH IS...

JAMES POTTER

You and James would definitely have an opposites-attract / golden retriever x black cat energy! Speaking of 'golden retriever energy,' since you said you were awkward, he would 100% try to bring you out of your comfort zone to try new things - since you're already an open person to hobbies! You both are passionate about things - for James, it was Quidditch! But when you talk and speak your heart out, James would totally sit there, admiring you and your devotion to your favorite topics. Since you described yourself as a 'hype-woman,' you would surely be the loudest in the stands at any Gryffindor match. James would make you feel like the luckiest girl ever. He might be a 'playboy,' but once he lands his eyes on someone like you, he would become deeply loyal to you - so when you feel like pulling away from any relationship, James would pull you closer and validate your feelings. You and James are both playful people, can be physical and verbal! He would totally tease you, pull harmless pranks on you, and love making you laugh! James is a protector - therefore, if he heard someone talking bad about you or spreading misinformation, he would definitely put them in their place or even jinx them discreetly. He's also generous - gifts, thoughtful acts, and servicing you would be his priority. Since you said you get jealous easily, James would make sure to assure you that you are his only one, and would never love anyone but you.

click HERE for the oneshot

[wwhiteferrett]

unsent letters | james potter

summary: staying up late in the library wasn't the best idea. maybe your love letters dedicated to your boyfriend, james potter, being read aloud could've been prevented if you were careful - and a bit less sleepy. warnings: none, sfw, fluff pairing: boyfriend!james x fem!reader wc: 2.5k a/n: based off of a matchup i did!<3 sorry for the long wait

Loud cheers, whistles, and whoops flooded your eardrums as you hurried down to the Quidditch field.

Your shoes crunched on top of the damp grass as you ran past other excited, celebrating students, hair whipping in the wind.

The Gryffindors had won against the Slytherins. 

“James!” You called out. He turned, looking at you, and smiled. He opened his arms, and you hugged him tightly. “Merlin, you did so well!”

“Thank you, Y/N,” James grinned. Sweat dripped from his temples; his messy curls stuck to his forehead. Fixing his glasses, he teased, “Gonna give me a reward?”

You rolled your eyes, playfully smacking his shoulder. “In your dreams.”

“Trust me, I’ve dreamt about it.” He winked at you. 

“Gross!”

Laughing, he pulled you into another tight hug and kissed the top of your head.

“James! Get over here!” The seeker yelled.

His warmth leaving your body, he murmured, “Be back in a sec. Wait for me, yeah?” James rubbed the sides of your arms with his calloused hands.

You nodded. “Yeah. Sure.” 

You watched him walk away to the rest of the Gryffindor team, who were chanting and hooting with joy.

The thick clouds hung in the sky, lightly drizzling rain atop your head. You zipped up your loose jacket, preserving as much heat as you could.

The crowd dilated, students heading back into their common rooms and teachers discussing the match among themselves. It was a nice autumn day, and you knew nothing could get in the way.

…right?

“Hey, Y/N!” A voice called out. You turned around, spotting a black-haired seventh-year, Josh Hunter, jogging towards you. 

“Hi, Josh.” You waved. “Did you watch the game?”

“Sure did; James did great!” He smiled. It slowly faltered. “Did you…by any chance, finish the essay?”

Your heart dropped.

“What essay?” You asked quietly, eyes wide. 

“The one for Potions; it’s due tomorrow—two parchments. I was going to ask you for some help,” Josh explained, his green eyes flickering to the ground.

“Merlin.” You sighed. “I’ll have to work on it. Thanks for reminding me.” 

He nodded. “No problem. See you around, Y/N.”

The lanky boy headed back to his group of energetic friends, and as you were about to turn around, you felt two strong arms pick you up from behind. 

“Argh! James, what the hell?” You scowled. He gently placed you down, and you angrily turned to face him. 

He was just too happy to be mad at.

“I love you too, Y/N.” James joked, slinging an arm over your shoulders. “Inside?”

“...Yeah. It’s cold.”

“Need my jacket?” 

“I’m already wearing one.”

“Two won’t hurt, yeah?”

“No thanks. I’ll get the cold sweat.”

James stopped walking, then looked at you with a raised eyebrow. “When did you get salty?”

You sighed, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “I didn’t know there was an essay due tomorrow.” 

“For which class?”

“Potions.”

“Oh.” James looked to the ground in thought, then his eyes went wide. “Ohhh.”

“Please don’t tell me you knew and you didn’t bother to remind me.” You massaged your temples, attempting to relieve your headache.

James put his hands up in retreat. “I was excused from it. Forgot there was even any essay due.”

“Excused from it?”

A glint in his eye told you more than you needed to know.

“Idiot.” You crossed your arms and continued to walk. James caught up to you, walking so close next to you that you could smell him—a dark musk, sweat, laced with vanilla.

“Padfoot and I got excused, actually,” James said happily.

“And you two didn’t even offer to include me?”

He went quiet as you both entered the castle.

“The plan…well, it included…violence.”

“What?”

“We didn’t want you to be included because it was risky.”

“Tell me what the plan was.”

“It just…we pretended to get into a fight, then we got detention, but they knew I was a Quidditch player. Pure luck.” James quickly explained. “You should be glad you weren’t included.”

“I’d take an uppercut to the jaw rather than stress about a stupid paper.” You mumbled, walking up the staircase.

“Do you need me to help you with the paper?” James offered. “I do know a few things about potions.” 

You shook your head. “Going to you for help is a trip to getting a ‘Troll.’” 

“Potter! Get over here!” A husky voice shouted—one of the beaters. He had a half-full brown bottle in his hand.

The Gryffindor common room must’ve been near because the members of the Quidditch team were holding a bunch of food and drinks. 

James looked at you, a sly grin growing on his lips. 

You looked at him sternly, pointing a finger in his chest. “No getting drunk. Bad for your health. Understood?”

“I can’t promise that, Y/N.”

“Well, today, you’re going to have to.” You poked his hard chest again. “Am I clear?”

“Fine.” He sighed, pecking your lips. “Good luck with your essay.”

You watched him walk into the thick crowd of whooping Gryffindor boys, patting his back and ruffling his curly brunette hair.

As your boyfriend disappeared into the sea of red and gold, you turned toward the quieter corridors that led to Ravenclaw Tower.

Time to work on this essay, then, you thought, climbing up another spiraling staircase to the Ravenclaw common room. 

In the girls’ dormitory, you picked up your book bag, grabbed your stationery, then slipped out of the bustling room and into the quiet hallway. 

As you hurried toward the library, your fingers unconsciously found a familiar strand of hair.

Twist.

Tug.

A sharp sting.

You looked down at the strand between your fingers and sighed.

Not again.

Fuck, you thought, dropping your hand from your scalp. I should stop doing this. I’ll be bald by the time I’m twenty.

You turned the corner, seeing the library already in sight.

You entered the serene library, illuminated by floating candles. Going to your normal corner spot, you placed your materials down and prepared what you needed.

Two parchments, your Potions book, black ink, and your favorite quill.

Perfect, you thought, cracking your knuckles. Time to write.

Once you picked up your ink-dripping quill, you immersed yourself in the constant sound of your thoughts.

An hour passed.

Two hours.

Maybe another passed—you couldn’t remember.

How long have I been here? You yawned, placing your head down on the wooden desk. Your eyes started to flutter shut as you imagined the peaceful rain.

–

“Excuse me,” You heard a muffled voice. Someone tapped your shoulder. You shifted in your seat. Just a dream, you said to yourself, shutting your eyes shut harder this time.

“Excuse me,” They said, sharper this time. 

“Another minute,” You mumbled.

“The library’s closed, dear.”

You woke up, startled, to see a person standing in front of you. You picked up your head, face-to-face with the librarian herself.

“Oh- oh my goodness, what time is it?” You said, starting to shuffle your papers into a pile. 

“Ten o’clock. You best be on your way to your dormitory.” The librarian said softly, patting your shoulder. You stuffed all your items into an over-packed book bag and weakly stood up. 

“Thank you…and I’m sorry about all of…this.” You apologized, tightening the strap of your bag on your shoulder. 

The woman waved a dismissive hand, and you took that as a cue to leave.

You basically sprinted down the empty, echoing corridors. Your Converse laces clicked on the stone ground; the light from the moon illuminated the hallways you passed through. 

Hopping off the last step of the staircase, you stood in front of the entrance of the Ravenclaw common room.

Tapping on the dark wooden door, the eagle knocker asked, “What has a head and a tail, but no body?”

You answered quietly, “A coin…?”

The door opened, and you sighed in relief. Slipping inside, you noticed a few students were scattered around—on the couches, cramming last-minute assignments, or playing chess on the ground. 

Knowing your essay was basically complete, you exhaled and headed to the girls' dormitory. 

–

Once you straightened your blue tie around your neck, you picked up your school bag. You placed your quill inside—then noticed something was…missing. 

Your essay was there, so were your books. 

What was it?

Shit. The letters.

You had forgot to put them in your nightstand and left them in your bag for too long, you nearly forgot about them.

Leaving the dorm room, you briefly scanned the common room. 

Maybe it fell last night when I was going up the stairs?

For two minutes, you looked through the entire room. 

You were close to giving up.

“Excuse me, have you seen a stack of letters anywhere?” You asked a group of people.

They exchanged glances.

“Um…no, but that’s what a few girls were talking about.” One of them replied after a beat.

Okay. Not as bad. I’ll just ask Remus to help me find them…or something.  

“Thanks.” You smiled weakly, then headed out of the common room.

For some reason, it felt like everyone was…looking at you.

What the hell are these people’s problems? You thought to yourself, keeping your head down and weaving through the groups of students in the corridors.

You wouldn’t let that get in your way, though. 

Assholes, you thought, glaring at a giggling Ravenclaw student. 

Surely no one knew about the notes. 

Maybe the group of girls who were talking about it threw it away.

As you made it into the loud Great Hall, your thoughts became static. 

You spotted James next to Sirius, Remus, and Peter in their usual seating, then walked behind James. Surprising him, you wrapped your arms around his neck.

“Oh, hi, Y/N,” James smiled, tilting his head up and kissing your lips.

“Good morning, Prongs.” You took a seat next to your boyfriend and greeted the other three. 

“Did you end up finishing the essay?” James asked. 

You fixed his hair, responding, “I…think so. I fell asleep in the library.”

“No way.”

“I know. I was probably writing my essay in my dreams.”

James snorted and took another bite of bacon. 

“These girls in the halls were talking about you,” Remus said quietly, looking at you with sympathetic eyes. 

Sirius nodded in confirmation beside Remus. “Did you do some shit that made them hate you?”

You raised an eyebrow. “No…Not that I’m aware of.”

Remus shrugged. “Couldn’t be too bad then. Maybe it’s that Ravenclaw girl that’s out to get you.”

Sirius snickered, and you sighed.

Something’s always happening in my life, you thought, reaching into your bookbag. As you were about to look over your sloppily done essay, James nudged your side.

“You got friends?”

You looked up, with a raised eyebrow, spotting two familiar Ravenclaws coming over.

Them.

Alice Graves and Sylvie Reed.

You never knew envy could be taken so far—Sylvie showed you otherwise. 

She fell in love with James at the start of seventh year. Ever since then, she’s been trying to get at you—spreading false rumors or even trying to hex you. 

What the hell does she want now?

"Morning, Y/N," Sylvie said in a sing-song voice, three crumpled pieces of parchment pinched between her fingers. 

The blonde beside her, Alice, held a few more. 

Folded with little flowers.

“You know, I hope that bacon is as delicious as these notes!”

Your stomach dropped. 

"Let's see..." Alice hummed, unfolding one. “'To my lover, James Potter—”

You stopped breathing.

Heat rose to your cheeks as you realized.

My love letters.

“‘My one and only, the most perfect boy I’ve ever known…’” She continued.

Snickers rippled throughout the tables.

Half of the Great Hall was listening. 

You felt dozens of eyes settle on the two of you.

“‘I never knew someone could be so handsome’…Y/N, you sure are flirtatious,” Sylvie cackled.

Alice did an exaggerated sigh. “So desperate.”

The edges of the Great Hall blurred.

You weren’t going to cry—no, you were better than that. 

You knew not to give them the satisfaction they wanted.

But this weight, this bubbling anger in your chest wanted you to hit her in the fucking face. 

“Aw, no need to look so ashamed, Y/N. We’re just…helping you out,” Sylvie said sweetly.

Your hands balled into tight fists, digging into your sweaty palms.

James glanced at you, then at the two girls.

“Can I have them?” He asked, nodding towards the parchment.

Alice and Sylvie blinked, unsure of what to say. 

They slowly slid the crumpled pieces of parchment towards James. 

“Thanks.”

“...Thanks?” Sylvie raised an eyebrow, a frown playing on her lips.

“Yeah,” James said. “Been looking for these.”

The girls scoffed, sharply walking away from the table and muttering words under their breath.

“Weirdos…” You heard Sylvie utter, tossing her hair back.

You noticed Sirius scowling and Remus eyeing them. 

James lightly took the papers in his hand. He carefully unfolded one, straightening out the crumpled corners.

You watched him as his eyes flickered across the page.

A small smile tugged at the corner of his lips.

“You designed it yourself?” He murmured, tracing his thumb over the gold imprints.

“James…”

“They’re gorgeous.” He looked at you with soft eyes. Nudging your side, James said, “You’ll have to teach me sometime.”

You weakly smiled, looking down at your hands in your lap. 

Your embarrassment was probably plastered on your face. 

You couldn't even bring yourself to look at him.

James quietly folded the letters and set them beside his plate.

Then his hand found your thigh beneath the table, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“I don’t care about those girls—or anyone in that matter,” James assured. 

“...The letters…they weren’t finished.” You whispered. 

He grinned. “Good thing I got my hands on them, then.”

–

As you two exited the bustling Great Hall, James squeezed your shoulder comfortingly. “Think your essay is good enough?”

You sighed. “I hope so.” From the corner of your eye, you saw James still holding a folded letter. “James…”

“Hm?”

“Don’t…read it.”

“Why?”

“They’re- they’re love letters, James.” 

“...So?”

You looked at him, ears tinted red. “They’re embarrassing.”

James smiled. “They’re from you.” He glanced at his watch. “We can spare fifteen minutes, yeah?”

You ran a hand down your hot face. “Merlin.”

In an empty corridor, James leaned against the cold wall, and you stood in front of him. You watched as he read every word of every note; you wanted to hide—or even get rid of the awkward feeling in your chest.

On the last letter, James snickered at a part near the end.

“Don’t laugh.” You groaned.

“I didn’t know you noticed that; that's all,” James replied, folding the letter gently. “Any of that, really. No one really does.” He put the last piece of parchment into his bookbag.

“You’re…keeping all of them?” You asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Of course I am. I’d frame them if I could.” James responded simply. “Then show our kids so they know how obsessed you were with me.”

You smacked his arm playfully. “I hate you.”

“You didn’t seem to hate me when you complimented my eye color.” 

Rolling your eyes, you huffed, “They do look pretty in the sunlight.” 

He hugged you tightly, kissing your head. “You look prettier.” Pulling away, he laced his fingers in yours. “Thank you for writing these.”

You squeezed his hand, softly smiling.

“Thanks for reading them, idiot.”

a/n: thank you @chacharism for the help <3

[wwhiteferrett]

brb making character playlists on spotify

ill link them when im done

[wwhiteferrett]

Hiii, so this is not a request but more just me looking for some advice lol

So basically, I wanted to ask if you have any tips for people wanting to get into writing? Things like maybe how to start posting and stuff bcuz im clueless, and don't know anything lol

Also, i wanted to say that I lolololoved your george weasley fic, it was rlly good and i hope you write more for him _333

ADVICE FOR NEW WRITERS

Hi!! Thank you so much for asking!

As a person who’s a bookworm & has been writing stories since they were seven, I have some helpful tips that let me grow—and they can probably help you too!

“How to write?”…

1 - know your tense Choose between past or present for your writing. It is standard to use past, but some fanfiction writers like present.

2 - PLAN YOUR STORIES! I have dozens of story boards, basically plotting out the oneshot or fanfiction I want to write. Plan characters(insecurities, personality, even physical traits), conflicts, and the ending/resolution/how they will resolve the issue. Story boards and notes will help you get your thoughts out, making the writing process quicker, and easier.

3 - write with your voice Find your own writing style! Long fanfictions, short oneshots, headshots, etc. don’t try and copy another writers voice!

4- pairing (extra) decide if you want to do x readers, oc x oc, etc. my main pairing is x reader! You can alternate, but sticking to one is what I prefer for starters.

“How to start?”…

Starting’s the hard part. I always have brain farts once I open a new document.

1 - choose! Depending on your fandom—mine being Harry Potter/Marauders—choose any character, or characters, to write about.

2 - prompts! I like to use Pinterest and search up ‘writing prompts,’ but if you already have one in mind, perfect! Use these prompts to create a plot.

3 - START WRITING! Music, notes, and even a timer helps me get my writing done. I’m a hugeee procrastinator, but these three elements help me with time crunches! Like I said, write from your heart!

TIP- write the scenery first. That will establish the mood of your oneshots. (Ex. Describing the pouring rain outside a cafe or the shining sun at a lake.) If this doesn’t work, start with a piece of dialogue.(that could also be your prompt of the whole story!)

4 - done? Once you’re done, look through your writing once or even twice. I sometimes do three times, and make my sister check it! Grammar, spelling, or plot holes are what you need to lookout for.

5 - requests (extra) Don’t rush! Take your time to personalize every request. Remember, quality over quantity. It’s always good to practice writing under pressure for when you have loads of request!

“How to make it aesthetic?”…

I struggled with the aesthetic layout of my oneshots for the longest time! My main tip: aesthetics COUNT! Before, I barely got any likes because of how disordered my layout was!

1 - include summary, warnings, pairing, and word count Let the readers know what they’re getting into before they read! (Summary should be 1-2 sentences)

2- a readable font I use the standard one and shrink the letters!

3- a banner and dividers Like how I have, I have a banner consisting of three pictures that connect to the aesthetic or plot of the story. Dividers add to the nice look, make sure to coordinate accordingly with your banner or theme of the story!

4- faded color text! (extra) search up "how to do ombre colored text on tumblr" so you can get cool text like this!

No mutuals? No worries!

I started with 0 followers and 0 following. You slowly build your audience and attract people from your fandom! You can even comment under writers posts and ask to be mutuals!

No likes? No worries!

If you had just posted a piece of writing and an hour later, it gets nothing, don’t worry! The tumblr algorithm works in a different way. After a week, one of my oneshots got 100 likes—so don’t panic if you haven’t gotten attention yet!

Don’t know what tags to use? No worries!

Obviously, connect it to the character(s) you wrote about, ex. #harrypotter , #harrypotterxfem!reader.

Maybe the show/movie/book/video game they’re from. For example, I use #hogwarts for my Harry Potter oneshots! It’s just reaching out to your audience and finding people who are interested!

— other tags can be like #xreader , #ao3 , #fanfiction etc. (don’t use random tags that don’t correlate with your writing…tumblr people don’t like that)

Writing shouldn’t be stressful. You should write to enjoy it and have fun! Don't worry about what other people think—you will find the people who love you and your writing. I wish you the best of luck, and I hope to stumble across one of your writes some time! <3 send in another request if you ever need more help, I gotchu!

(And thank you for complimenting my writing! I’ll make sure to write more George Weasley stuff for ya!)

[wwhiteferrett]

after curfew | sirius black

summary: you bet james that there was truly a hidden library somewhere in the castle. after confidently researching, you decide to bring sirius along for the ride. warnings: none pairing: bestfriend!sirius x reader - marauders era wc: 2k a/n: based off of a matchup i did!<3

sirius black masterlist.ᐟ

Your footsteps were quiet—fragile, like a cat preying on a rat.

Meanwhile, Sirius’s every step got you two closer to a trip to detention.

“Do you want Filch to catch us?” You rolled your eyes, carefully turning a corner. 

“...Yeah.”

“What?”

“So I can show him who’s boss.”

You snorted—a bit too loud—then clamped a hand over your mouth. Sirius snickered quietly at you.

“No, dimwit, of course I don’t want to be caught,” Sirius replied. “Well, I’m sorry my boots have long laces.”

“My laces.” You scowled, looking at him accusingly. “You stole them from me.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did! You took out your original ones to whip Remus!”

Sirius was about to snap back until the look on his face reflected that he remembered it.

“Oh, yeah. That was great.” Sirius tilted his head in thought. “I think he burned it in the fireplace.”

Then, a creak.

You jumped back, pressing your back against a wall. Sirius followed, whispering ‘Nox’ under his breath. The light from his wand flickered off, and you were both swallowed by darkness.

Peeking down the hallway, you saw nothing, just the dark-blueish light from the moon.

“We’re good.” You whispered, motioning for Sirius to follow you. You went down the opposite hallway, avoiding where the sound came from. 

“What was that?” Sirius asked, illuminating the tip of his wand again.

“Not sure. It wasn’t Filch, though.” You answered.

You walked down an unfamiliar hallway with no rugs and barely any decorations. It looked like an abandoned hallway, or a place where no one goes—not restrained or dangerous, just…forgotten.

‘Where the bored will seek.’ 

The room should be here. That’s what the saying meant.

You came to a stop, spotting an out-of-place painting. 

“Here.” You breathed. 

“Here?”

“Yes, Padfoot, here.” 

“Okay, Noodle.”

“I said not to call me that!”

He sighed. “Fine. Scales.”

“Not that one!”

Sirius sighed again. “Slinky.”

“That was the name we all agreed on, anyway.” You huffed.

“Yeah, yeah, boring snake patronus,” Sirius uttered. He nodded towards the painting. “Get on with it.”

Slipping a piece of wrinkled parchment from your pocket, you read it. “Five steps east…Two steps back…Appareo…” 

Looking up at the wall, you followed the movement—moving to the right five times, then stepping back twice. Taking your wand, you copied the spell’s movement and mumbled, “Appareo.”

The wall rumbled loudly, dust shooting from the crevices. You stepped back, eyes wide, watching the wall gradually open up like a door.

Inside, it was a dark tunnel.

“Merlin…” You whispered, slowly approaching the entrance. You peeked inside and saw a distant light at the end. “Padfoot, come’ere.” 

Sirius walked up behind you, looking into the darkness. “What about it? It’s a secret passageway, you told me.”

“No, the light. What…is that?” 

Sirius squinted harder, then let out a small ‘Oh.’

“Go in first,” You pushed him.

“No, you go first,” Sirius scowled, pushing you in. “You’re the one who wanted to find this shitty tunnel.”

“Is someone…chickening out?” You nudged his arm with a sly grin. 

“The only chicken here is you, Slinky.” Sirius flashed his teeth with a smile, then made his way down the tunnel. You followed right behind him, then heard the walls slam shut.

–

You thought the light was some sort of lamp. Or maybe Filch with a candle, waiting to get us in trouble.

Both were wrong, but Sirius wished it were the second option.

“Holy shit.”

It was a library. 

Every shelf was about a hundred feet tall, stacked with books and trinkets; some even had drawers filled with filled-out documents. The warm lighting came from floating candles and undying lamps.

“How the hell did you find this place, Slinks?” Sirius breathed, looking around and taking in the view. 

“I knew it! James owes me three chocolate frogs!” You said, hurrying into the library and scanning the shelves.

You saw thousands of book titles— ‘A Dragon’s Weakness,’ ‘The Lost Wizards and How They Were Found,’ and…

“‘How To Spot a Squib.’” You snorted. “Padfoot! Look!”

Sirius walked over, looking at the thick book in your hand. He laughed. 

“I bet the first page is a picture of Filch.”

You doubled over in laughter, placing the book back. “Never going to let go of that incident, huh?”

“It wasn’t even my fault!” Sirius complained. “It was James who put the roaches in his office!”

You explored more, flicking through piles of papers on one of the wooden desks.

“Padfoot! Look at this!” You said excitedly. You handed a confused Sirius a piece of dark brown parchment paper, filled with cursive writing.

“...Jellyfish?” He tilted his head.

“What? No, look down here,” You sighed, pointing to the bottom part of the page. 

“Oh. Dehydrated jellyfish.” 

“Yes!”

“What about it?”

“People eat them! Muggles!”

Sirius looked at your beaming face, patted your shoulder, and said, “That’s awesome, but very random.”

Two minutes later, you came running up to him again with a dusty coin in your hand.

“What’s that?”

“What’s this? You don’t know what this-” You waved the coin in his face. “-is?”

He shook his head, clearly amused. “That could literally be anything.”

“This could not be just ‘anything!’ Basically…” You continued to explain the coin.

For about another five minutes, you rambled about the significance and history of the bronze coin. Sirius watched you with adoring eyes and a small smile on his lips. 

“And that,” You concluded with a sigh, “is why this coin is important!”

Sirius clapped slowly.

“Are you making fun of me?” You scowled.

“No. Never.” Sirius replied.

Then, he yawned.

“You’re so bored. I bored you out.” You frowned.

Sirius placed both hands on your shoulders. “No, you weren’t. I promise.” He grinned, adding, “Medieval wizard coins. Riveting stuff.”

You narrowed your eyes, placing the coin down on the table next to you. “You don’t even know what it’s called.”

“I do.”

“Enlighten me.”

Sirius glanced at the coin again, obviously clueless. “The Medieval wizard coin.”

You snickered. “I appreciate your dedication, Padfoot.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes. He opened a small drawer, and something immediately stood out.

A wooden coiled snake figure.

Your eyes were wide as you reached in, gently pulling it out. “Look at him, Padfoot!”

Sirius blinked.

“What?” You frowned.

“It’s a snake.”

“Yeah, and it’s obviously special, idiot.”

Sirius lightly took it from your fingers and examined it. “Nothing too crazy about it.”

Your eye caught something at the bottom. “Wait, turn it upside down.”

Sirius flipped the snake upside down, revealing letters carved into it.

“‘Those who enter must leave with what has been left behind.’” You softly read aloud. “Cool! I get to keep it!” 

“You’re welcome.”

“What did you do?” You teased.

“Opened the drawer.”

“Wow. Opening the drawer. So impressive.” You mocked. “I literally could’ve done that myself.”

“But you didn’t; that’s the thing,” Sirius smirked.

You scoffed. “Asshole.”

Your eyes flickered to behind the black-haired boy—a staircase.

“What’re you looking at?” Sirius observed your curious face, then turned around. “Oh.”

“Come on!” You hurried over to the steps and carefully climbed up. Sirius followed behind you.

On the second floor, the lighting was dimmer, and the objects were dustier. It was like no one had been here in ages.

“More nerdy things up here, I suppose?” 

“Not nerdy things, artifacts. More documents, too!” You opened a creaky drawer, skimming through poorly-aged folders. “Marisa Simpson. Didn’t she…y’know,” You knowingly looked at Sirius, who was leaning against the wall.

“Turn to Voldemort? Yeah, after she graduated.” He crossed his arms, looking at his boots. “Doesn’t matter; she’s been long gone.” 

“Did Voldemort eat her or something?” You muttered.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he did.” Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. You slipped Marisa’s file back inside the drawer and shut it. Standing up, you looked through the wooden shelves—these had carvings, engraved names, and obvious scratches on them.

“A lot of…dark magic up here.” You mumbled, tracing your finger on one of the dents. It had ‘Silence to the world’ carved into it, and next to it, in very small letters—

‘Avada Kedavra.’

You furrowed your brows, feeling over the letters and shivering. 

The lights flickered. A rumble was heard from somewhere in the distance.

“Find something?” You heard Sirius ask. You ignored the strange sound and movement, turning to face a slightly concerned Sirius.

“Yeah. Just a bit…weird.” 

He walked over and read the words.

“The hell…?” He breathed, knitting his brows. “Strange.”

You nodded, stepping away from it. “I think this place might’ve been the Dark Arts Holder.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve never read about it in Hogwarts: A History?”

“I don’t read.”

You sighed. “Hogwarts apparently has a whole place dedicated to holding Dark Arts files. 400 years ago, they wanted to see who would turn out to be evil wizards or witches.” You watched Sirius’ eyes widen.

“So they were tracking them? The students?”

“Yes. As you can tell, they were tracking Marisa—look how she turned out. They guessed correctly.”

“Do you think the Ministry was involved?”

“Absolutely. But…I don’t think they want to have anything to do with it.”

“...Holy shit, Slinks.”

“I know. These files are surely older, though. I don’t think anyone has been up here in a while…” You trailed off, your eyes landing on a large clock, reading ‘4:22 AM.’ “We should probably go back now. It’ll take us some time to get all the way back to our common rooms.”

“Oh. Right.” Sirius followed you to the staircase. It seemed colder; the lights were tinted…green?

 “Y’know, sometimes I forget we aren’t in the same houses.”

You shook off your paranoid thoughts and cleared your throat. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. It feels like you're much cooler than those other Slytherin kids.”

“You’re, like, eviler than any kid in Slytherin.”

“Whoa, Slinky. I am not, and that is an absurd accusation.”

You stepped off the staircase and made your way back to the tunnel. “Who else would spit in Snape’s pumpkin juice?”

“Okay, that was evil, but aside from that, what else have I done?”

“Spilling ink over that third-year’s paper because they asked for help on an assignment.”

“I was busy!”

“With chess. Chess, Padfoot.” You laughed. “Want me to give more examples?”

“No. Never mind.” Sirius grumbled, giving up. “Forgot your snake figure, by the way.”

Your eyes widened as you patted your pockets. “Shit!” 

Before you could run up the staircase again, Sirius held it out. “You have the memory of a seahorse.”

You sighed in relief, snatching it from his fingers. “Fuck you, Padfoot.”

He sniggered, “Love you too, Slinky.” Poking you, he nodded towards the tunnel to go down. “I went first last time.”

“Scared? Still?” 

“Nope. I just want to poke your back more.”

“Rude.” You uttered, then walked down the murky tunnel again, Sirius at your tail.

—

You both exited the tunnel—weirdly, the walls were already open.

Sirius’ wand was still lit, both of you watching your step. Last time you both had gone on an adventure like this, you had tripped on a crumpled oriental rug and fallen on a full suit of armor. 

The result wasn’t pretty.

“I’m still curious about the Dark Arts Holder,” Sirius whispered, turning a corner. “I wonder if someone had been there recently.”

“Probably not,” You replied quietly. “I don’t think any of the new teachers are even aware of the library itself.”

“Hm.” Sirius stayed quiet for a second as you both hurried down a dark corridor. “What about the headmaster?”

You nodded, trying to recall Hogwarts: A History. “Pretty sure all the headmasters and headmistresses need to be aware of it. They’re the ones who file it. Older, trusted teachers are familiar with the Holder.”

You glanced at Sirius—his face was contorted into thought. Assuringly, you rubbed his shoulder. “It’s nothing to worry about. We’re not in danger; we might just need to look out for those students with O’s on their Dark Arts papers.”

Sirius smiled, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “When I find someone I’m suspicious of, I’ll tell them to get your ass first.”

You snickered, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “Not if I get your ass first, idiot.”

“Must be aware of the intimidating Noodle, huh?” Sirius teased, looking down at your grinning face.

“Jerk!”

[chacharism]

THIS IS SO SO CUTE omg

the nicknames have me melting and i love all the bickering, well done lia u always deliver

[chacharism]

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ bitter & sweet

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ by chacharism

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ 0:00 ─❤︎⁠───── 4:20

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⇄ ◃◃ ⅠⅠ ▹▹ ↻

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀Welcome, lovie .ᐟ₊⊹

𑣲 𝓒harisa 𑣲 she / her ,, sixteen + ,, esfp-t ,, 2w3 𑣲 girl blogger with a reason 𑣲 #bittersweet thoughts ᰔ.ᐟ <- chatting tag tw: mentions of ai add!ction 𑣲 hello .ᐟ ⠀ i'm charisa; a girl who's currently trying to overcome an addiction of character ai. my addiction lasted for years. character ai was my scapegoat- a place where i can comfortably be myself without a place of judgement. it was where i could live my biggest fantasies and it'd all go my way, with no obstacles. ⠀ one day, after learning all of ai's effects on the environment, i made the decision to stop using it. character ai has ruined the way i socialize and think creatively. i wanted to stop using it and to get the old me back- the one who'd comfortably join conversations and have better relationships with the people who love me. 𑣲 that is why i created the bitter & sweet. ⠀ it's for the people who go through the bitterness, sweetness, and everything in between of life. it's for the people who are slowly learning how to understand themselves past their old mistakes. it's for the people who try to get through the day feeling kinda good about themselves, because why is it such a crime to? ⠀ it's a journal and a blog that is intended to make you feel seen and heard, while also giving you space for a community that will always support you. a community that not only encourages you, but isn't afraid to tell you what's wrong and what's right. ⠀ find me on substack! -> chacharism

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀Get to know me .ᐟ₊⊹

𑣲 ꜰᴀɴᴅᴏᴍꜱ ɪ’ᴍ ɪɴ: harry potter, the pitt, detroit: become human, percy jackson, hunger games, divergent (somewhat, slowly getting into it), mcu (just movies), descendants, my little pony 𑣲 ʟᴏᴠᴇꜱ: cilantro, chatting, gold jewelry, skincare, the chili & lime tortilla chips from trader joe's, being educated 𑣲 ʜᴀᴛᴇꜱ: spiders, arugula, SUPER long series, all sour candies (sorry) 𑣲 ʜᴏʙʙɪᴇꜱ: doing nails, makeup, driving, journaling. i'm picking up girl blogging! 𑣲 ꜰᴜɴ ꜰᴀᴄᴛ: i have eczema! a skin condition that causes flare ups and itchiness.

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀Other info .ᐟ₊⊹

𑣲 click here for my matchup info 𑣲 click here for my spotify playlist 𑣲 click here for my substack

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀Same place next time .ᐣ₊⊹

⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ have a lovely day ! ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ ⠀ feel free to dm or send an ask :)

[wwhiteferrett]

george weasley masterlist.ᐟ

" bunny " - bestfriend!george x fem!reader

...more to come!

[wwhiteferrett]

after curfew | sirius black

summary: you bet james that there was truly a hidden library somewhere in the castle. after confidently researching, you decide to bring sirius along for the ride. warnings: none pairing: bestfriend!sirius x reader - marauders era wc: 2k a/n: based off of a matchup i did!<3

sirius black masterlist.ᐟ

Your footsteps were quiet—fragile, like a cat preying on a rat.

Meanwhile, Sirius’s every step got you two closer to a trip to detention.

“Do you want Filch to catch us?” You rolled your eyes, carefully turning a corner. 

“...Yeah.”

“What?”

“So I can show him who’s boss.”

You snorted—a bit too loud—then clamped a hand over your mouth. Sirius snickered quietly at you.

“No, dimwit, of course I don’t want to be caught,” Sirius replied. “Well, I’m sorry my boots have long laces.”

“My laces.” You scowled, looking at him accusingly. “You stole them from me.”

“I did not!”

“Yes, you did! You took out your original ones to whip Remus!”

Sirius was about to snap back until the look on his face reflected that he remembered it.

“Oh, yeah. That was great.” Sirius tilted his head in thought. “I think he burned it in the fireplace.”

Then, a creak.

You jumped back, pressing your back against a wall. Sirius followed, whispering ‘Nox’ under his breath. The light from his wand flickered off, and you were both swallowed by darkness.

Peeking down the hallway, you saw nothing, just the dark-blueish light from the moon.

“We’re good.” You whispered, motioning for Sirius to follow you. You went down the opposite hallway, avoiding where the sound came from. 

“What was that?” Sirius asked, illuminating the tip of his wand again.

“Not sure. It wasn’t Filch, though.” You answered.

You walked down an unfamiliar hallway with no rugs and barely any decorations. It looked like an abandoned hallway, or a place where no one goes—not restrained or dangerous, just…forgotten.

‘Where the bored will seek.’ 

The room should be here. That’s what the saying meant.

You came to a stop, spotting an out-of-place painting. 

“Here.” You breathed. 

“Here?”

“Yes, Padfoot, here.” 

“Okay, Noodle.”

“I said not to call me that!”

He sighed. “Fine. Scales.”

“Not that one!”

Sirius sighed again. “Slinky.”

“That was the name we all agreed on, anyway.” You huffed.

“Yeah, yeah, boring snake patronus,” Sirius uttered. He nodded towards the painting. “Get on with it.”

Slipping a piece of wrinkled parchment from your pocket, you read it. “Five steps east…Two steps back…Appareo…” 

Looking up at the wall, you followed the movement—moving to the right five times, then stepping back twice. Taking your wand, you copied the spell’s movement and mumbled, “Appareo.”

The wall rumbled loudly, dust shooting from the crevices. You stepped back, eyes wide, watching the wall gradually open up like a door.

Inside, it was a dark tunnel.

“Merlin…” You whispered, slowly approaching the entrance. You peeked inside and saw a distant light at the end. “Padfoot, come’ere.” 

Sirius walked up behind you, looking into the darkness. “What about it? It’s a secret passageway, you told me.”

“No, the light. What…is that?” 

Sirius squinted harder, then let out a small ‘Oh.’

“Go in first,” You pushed him.

“No, you go first,” Sirius scowled, pushing you in. “You’re the one who wanted to find this shitty tunnel.”

“Is someone…chickening out?” You nudged his arm with a sly grin. 

“The only chicken here is you, Slinky.” Sirius flashed his teeth with a smile, then made his way down the tunnel. You followed right behind him, then heard the walls slam shut.

–

You thought the light was some sort of lamp. Or maybe Filch with a candle, waiting to get us in trouble.

Both were wrong, but Sirius wished it were the second option.

“Holy shit.”

It was a library. 

Every shelf was about a hundred feet tall, stacked with books and trinkets; some even had drawers filled with filled-out documents. The warm lighting came from floating candles and undying lamps.

“How the hell did you find this place, Slinks?” Sirius breathed, looking around and taking in the view. 

“I knew it! James owes me three chocolate frogs!” You said, hurrying into the library and scanning the shelves.

You saw thousands of book titles— ‘A Dragon’s Weakness,’ ‘The Lost Wizards and How They Were Found,’ and…

“‘How To Spot a Squib.’” You snorted. “Padfoot! Look!”

Sirius walked over, looking at the thick book in your hand. He laughed. 

“I bet the first page is a picture of Filch.”

You doubled over in laughter, placing the book back. “Never going to let go of that incident, huh?”

“It wasn’t even my fault!” Sirius complained. “It was James who put the roaches in his office!”

You explored more, flicking through piles of papers on one of the wooden desks.

“Padfoot! Look at this!” You said excitedly. You handed a confused Sirius a piece of dark brown parchment paper, filled with cursive writing.

“...Jellyfish?” He tilted his head.

“What? No, look down here,” You sighed, pointing to the bottom part of the page. 

“Oh. Dehydrated jellyfish.” 

“Yes!”

“What about it?”

“People eat them! Muggles!”

Sirius looked at your beaming face, patted your shoulder, and said, “That’s awesome, but very random.”

Two minutes later, you came running up to him again with a dusty coin in your hand.

“What’s that?”

“What’s this? You don’t know what this-” You waved the coin in his face. “-is?”

He shook his head, clearly amused. “That could literally be anything.”

“This could not be just ‘anything!’ Basically…” You continued to explain the coin.

For about another five minutes, you rambled about the significance and history of the bronze coin. Sirius watched you with adoring eyes and a small smile on his lips. 

“And that,” You concluded with a sigh, “is why this coin is important!”

Sirius clapped slowly.

“Are you making fun of me?” You scowled.

“No. Never.” Sirius replied.

Then, he yawned.

“You’re so bored. I bored you out.” You frowned.

Sirius placed both hands on your shoulders. “No, you weren’t. I promise.” He grinned, adding, “Medieval wizard coins. Riveting stuff.”

You narrowed your eyes, placing the coin down on the table next to you. “You don’t even know what it’s called.”

“I do.”

“Enlighten me.”

Sirius glanced at the coin again, obviously clueless. “The Medieval wizard coin.”

You snickered. “I appreciate your dedication, Padfoot.” 

Sirius rolled his eyes. He opened a small drawer, and something immediately stood out.

A wooden coiled snake figure.

Your eyes were wide as you reached in, gently pulling it out. “Look at him, Padfoot!”

Sirius blinked.

“What?” You frowned.

“It’s a snake.”

“Yeah, and it’s obviously special, idiot.”

Sirius lightly took it from your fingers and examined it. “Nothing too crazy about it.”

Your eye caught something at the bottom. “Wait, turn it upside down.”

Sirius flipped the snake upside down, revealing letters carved into it.

“‘Those who enter must leave with what has been left behind.’” You softly read aloud. “Cool! I get to keep it!” 

“You’re welcome.”

“What did you do?” You teased.

“Opened the drawer.”

“Wow. Opening the drawer. So impressive.” You mocked. “I literally could’ve done that myself.”

“But you didn’t; that’s the thing,” Sirius smirked.

You scoffed. “Asshole.”

Your eyes flickered to behind the black-haired boy—a staircase.

“What’re you looking at?” Sirius observed your curious face, then turned around. “Oh.”

“Come on!” You hurried over to the steps and carefully climbed up. Sirius followed behind you.

On the second floor, the lighting was dimmer, and the objects were dustier. It was like no one had been here in ages.

“More nerdy things up here, I suppose?” 

“Not nerdy things, artifacts. More documents, too!” You opened a creaky drawer, skimming through poorly-aged folders. “Marisa Simpson. Didn’t she…y’know,” You knowingly looked at Sirius, who was leaning against the wall.

“Turn to Voldemort? Yeah, after she graduated.” He crossed his arms, looking at his boots. “Doesn’t matter; she’s been long gone.” 

“Did Voldemort eat her or something?” You muttered.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if he did.” Sirius bit the inside of his cheek. You slipped Marisa’s file back inside the drawer and shut it. Standing up, you looked through the wooden shelves—these had carvings, engraved names, and obvious scratches on them.

“A lot of…dark magic up here.” You mumbled, tracing your finger on one of the dents. It had ‘Silence to the world’ carved into it, and next to it, in very small letters—

‘Avada Kedavra.’

You furrowed your brows, feeling over the letters and shivering. 

The lights flickered. A rumble was heard from somewhere in the distance.

“Find something?” You heard Sirius ask. You ignored the strange sound and movement, turning to face a slightly concerned Sirius.

“Yeah. Just a bit…weird.” 

He walked over and read the words.

“The hell…?” He breathed, knitting his brows. “Strange.”

You nodded, stepping away from it. “I think this place might’ve been the Dark Arts Holder.”

“What does that mean?”

“You’ve never read about it in Hogwarts: A History?”

“I don’t read.”

You sighed. “Hogwarts apparently has a whole place dedicated to holding Dark Arts files. 400 years ago, they wanted to see who would turn out to be evil wizards or witches.” You watched Sirius’ eyes widen.

“So they were tracking them? The students?”

“Yes. As you can tell, they were tracking Marisa—look how she turned out. They guessed correctly.”

“Do you think the Ministry was involved?”

“Absolutely. But…I don’t think they want to have anything to do with it.”

“...Holy shit, Slinks.”

“I know. These files are surely older, though. I don’t think anyone has been up here in a while…” You trailed off, your eyes landing on a large clock, reading ‘4:22 AM.’ “We should probably go back now. It’ll take us some time to get all the way back to our common rooms.”

“Oh. Right.” Sirius followed you to the staircase. It seemed colder; the lights were tinted…green?

 “Y’know, sometimes I forget we aren’t in the same houses.”

You shook off your paranoid thoughts and cleared your throat. “Yeah?”

“Mhm. It feels like you're much cooler than those other Slytherin kids.”

“You’re, like, eviler than any kid in Slytherin.”

“Whoa, Slinky. I am not, and that is an absurd accusation.”

You stepped off the staircase and made your way back to the tunnel. “Who else would spit in Snape’s pumpkin juice?”

“Okay, that was evil, but aside from that, what else have I done?”

“Spilling ink over that third-year’s paper because they asked for help on an assignment.”

“I was busy!”

“With chess. Chess, Padfoot.” You laughed. “Want me to give more examples?”

“No. Never mind.” Sirius grumbled, giving up. “Forgot your snake figure, by the way.”

Your eyes widened as you patted your pockets. “Shit!” 

Before you could run up the staircase again, Sirius held it out. “You have the memory of a seahorse.”

You sighed in relief, snatching it from his fingers. “Fuck you, Padfoot.”

He sniggered, “Love you too, Slinky.” Poking you, he nodded towards the tunnel to go down. “I went first last time.”

“Scared? Still?” 

“Nope. I just want to poke your back more.”

“Rude.” You uttered, then walked down the murky tunnel again, Sirius at your tail.

—

You both exited the tunnel—weirdly, the walls were already open.

Sirius’ wand was still lit, both of you watching your step. Last time you both had gone on an adventure like this, you had tripped on a crumpled oriental rug and fallen on a full suit of armor. 

The result wasn’t pretty.

“I’m still curious about the Dark Arts Holder,” Sirius whispered, turning a corner. “I wonder if someone had been there recently.”

“Probably not,” You replied quietly. “I don’t think any of the new teachers are even aware of the library itself.”

“Hm.” Sirius stayed quiet for a second as you both hurried down a dark corridor. “What about the headmaster?”

You nodded, trying to recall Hogwarts: A History. “Pretty sure all the headmasters and headmistresses need to be aware of it. They’re the ones who file it. Older, trusted teachers are familiar with the Holder.”

You glanced at Sirius—his face was contorted into thought. Assuringly, you rubbed his shoulder. “It’s nothing to worry about. We’re not in danger; we might just need to look out for those students with O’s on their Dark Arts papers.”

Sirius smiled, slinging an arm around your shoulder. “When I find someone I’m suspicious of, I’ll tell them to get your ass first.”

You snickered, nudging his ribs with your elbow. “Not if I get your ass first, idiot.”

“Must be aware of the intimidating Noodle, huh?” Sirius teased, looking down at your grinning face.

“Jerk!”

[wwhiteferrett]

Hi!!! I saw a post about matchups and by golly was I EXCITED!!!

OK OK HERE WE GO:

tell me about yourself - music taste, favorite animal, bookworm, etc...be detailed!

(if it so pleases the court/j, may I possible ask it be marauders? If not that's totally ok I entirely get it!!!)So, hum. About me. I am gender non conforming. Uh, I'm technically a Ravenclaw but I've taken the test a couple times and tied with Slytherin a lot so take that as you will. and my patronus was some sort of snake I think? I dunno, it was docile but venomous, I forgot the name. My mbti is INTJ-T, and my enneagram is type 8 (though I don't know much about enneagrams)

Personality wise I love learning and adventuring and wandering around, uh, I also really love to help people (even when I shouldn't) and always go for the bit/joke. I really enjoy messing around and joking and generally having fun, and tend to have a go with the flow sort of vibe, though I can be serious. I can be a bit stubborn and headstrong, and maybe to ambitious in my endeavors as I get a idea and won't let it go until it's proven fruitless and then try and push it some more. My friends often call me Wikipedia as a joke as well because I know random shit from my 2am doom learning cycles. I always am reading something, or doing something creative like any medium of art or writing myself. I love collecting things and decorating and organizing, and I really love finding the joy in little things, and the humor in situations where it might be hard to. I love to swim and rot in my hammock. (Seriously, I spend more time in my hammock than I do doing anything else, it's almost a problem). I can be very out of pocket and have trouble keeping a train of thought, and I loose things often. Also, my room is chaos but it's organized chaos. Like, it looks clean but then you look at my piles and they seem insane but I always know where things are.

I'm nawtttt sure if this is enough, but I hope it is!!

Anyways, I hope you have a wonderful day/night, and make sure to take care of yourself!!!! Drink some water, get some sun and eat some food!!! You rock!!

YOUR MATCH IS...

SIRIUS BLACK

Your sense of humor would match Sirius' perfectly - making out-of-pocket, witty comments or using jokes as a coping mechanism. You both would be entertained by each other - going on adventures, learning new things, and simply understanding one another in a way no one else would. Speaking of adventures, wandering in the halls of the castle at 3 AM would definitely be something you and he would do. Both of you would DEFINITELY say to each other, "If you do it, I will too." You wouldn't be intimidated by Sirius. Your confidence balances with his and Sirius prefers challenges when it's necessary. Sirius is stubborn, and as you've described yourself, you are too. Arguments and complications would be a headache, but on the bright side, you and he would be committed and loyal to each other. You said you enjoy the little things in life - reading, collecting trinkets, and relaxing on your hammock are small things that show appreciation to life's simple pleasures. Sirius, having grown up with an unhappy childhood, would find peace within your routine/hobbies. You two would fit for a platonic or a romantic relationship! + I think Sirius would be messy as well, so he wouldn't judge you. You two could be clutterbugs together!

click HERE for the oneshot!

[myrows]

Late night with wolfstar

[wwhiteferrett]

bunny | george weasley

summary: george needs a partner for an upcoming wedding so he doesnt seem ‘lonely.’ his plan to have a fake relationship with you grows into something…more. warnings: none, sfw, fluff, kissing pairing: bestfriend!george x fem!reader - post war wc: 4.2k a/n: based off of a matchup i did <3

You chopped the green cilantro on the wooden chopping board, humming a familiar tune under your breath. The window perched above the kitchen sink let light seep in onto your freshly tanned skin.

The smell of paprika and pepper wafted through the air; you inhaled the delicious scent and smiled in contentment. 

George and Lee had invited themselves over—again.

“To brainstorm,” George had said, with that stupid grin. “Your cooking is simply unavoidable…well- sometimes."

You laughed to yourself at the memory, knowing you smacked him on the arm after the comment. 

You were cooking his favorite food: chicken and lime rice. 

Dropping the cilantro into the sizzling pan with the chicken, you put the cover on it. You checked the time: 6:00. They’d be here at any second—

CRASH.

You jolted up, looking around to see where the commotion came from. Grabbing the kitchen knife, you slowly stepped into the living room.

“Oi! Lee! You alive?”

“Asshole!”

Your shoulders dropped—just a…burnt George and Lee.

“Knife!” George shrieked, pointing his wand at your hand.

“Floo powder? Are you serious?” You sighed, placing the kitchen knife down on a coffee table. “Was the front door not good enough?” 

Lee had bits of coal all over his face, coughing up dust as he got up from the ground. "George said it'd be faster."

"George also thinks birds aren’t real." After taking a good look at your dirty rug, you rubbed your temples. “Is everyone…okay?” 

“Yup–well, Lee, maybe not so okay–ouch!” George jumped back as Lee pinched his arm. “I’m sorry, okay? I thought you’d already arrived!”

“I’m holding this against you forever, mate.”

George ran a hand through his dusty hair. Clearing his throat, he shone a toothy smile at you. “Miss me yet, Y/N?”

“I saw you yesterday, George.”

“Exactly. Who wouldn’t miss my gorgeous face?”

“I wouldn’t.”

George raised his eyebrows. “Grumpy today, huh? Got a lil’ cloud over your head.” His grin faltered after he observed your sternness. “Just kidding with you. How’ve you been?”

You placed a hand on your hip. “...I was doing fine before you ruined my living room.” 

George looked around: your pearly white couch was matted with soot, the side table was knocked over, and a small fire was starting in front of the fireplace.

“Adds some character.” George shrugged. “Needed some color anyway. White’s a depressing color.”

Lee butted in. “Quite the opposite, George.”

“If this isn’t cleaned in the next ten seconds, I’m kicking you both out.” You playfully threatened. 

Immediately, Lee blew out the fire as George waved his wand at the fallen table, fixing it. Lee jumped onto the couch, sending dark dust into the air and off it. 

“All clean! How long was that—seven seconds?” Lee said cheekily. George pinched his lips into a line, suppressing a laugh. 

You rolled your eyes and walked back into the kitchen. “Come and sit down, you troublemakers.”

This dinner would surely be entertaining.

—

“Y’know, you could go pro with this cooking,” Lee munched, rice all over his chin. 

“I second that. How do you cook this amazingly?” George shoved another bite of chicken into his mouth.

“Thank you. I just tried a new recipe,” You smiled, taking a sip of water. “Mrs. Weasley makes great chicken noodle soup; maybe I should ask her for that recipe as well…” You thought aloud. 

Lee nearly choked on his rice.

Eyes wide, you slapped his back in an attempt to help. “LEE!”

George snickered at the sight; Lee’s eyes started to tear up as he waved a hand for you to stop.

“Ouch! Y/N, I’m okay!” Lee assured, placing a hand on your shoulder.

“Merlin, I saw your spirit rise from your body.” George joked, taking a sip of water.

“What even happened?” You asked, an eyebrow raised.

Lee exchanged a glance with George. Something… mischievous flickered across the brunette boy’s face.

“Don’t,” George mumbled, eyeing Lee.

Lee grinned. 

“Molly had quite a lot to say to George a few days ago, Y/N-”

“Lee!” George hissed.

“Maybe you could lend a hand, help out one of your best friends-”

“Ignore him, Y/N,” 

“What did Mrs. Weasley say?” You inquired, disregarding George’s feeble shots to shut Lee up.

“Molly thinks it’s time for George to find someone to settle down with.”

You nearly choked as well—this time on air and pure shock.

A beat of silence followed.

George ran a hand down his face as Lee tried not to laugh.

No corny remark or an off-putting joke. Just accepting what Lee said.

“I’m going to kill you, Lee.” The ginger muttered. 

“What’re you getting at? That I need to be George’s girlfriend?” You raised your eyebrows, looking at the two boys.

“Well-“

“Lee.”

“George was saying if you could-“

“Lee, I’ll just tell her, okay?” George sighed loudly, leaning back into the chair and looking at you with unsure eyes. “Mum thinks I’m…busying myself with work too much. Said I need to find someone.” 

“Not just that, Georgie,” Lee teased. “The wedding.”

Your eyes widened. You knew exactly where this was going.

“Right…the wedding. My family’s been invited to a wedding, and I don’t want to seem…” George’s eyes flickered away, his mind shifting to find a proper word.

“Lonely?” You offered quietly.

George nodded—almost hesitantly. “Yeah, you could say that." He shifted in his seat uncomfortably, looking at his hands. “...Mum keeps mentioning this wedding…and…”

“Get on with it, you booger,” Lee huffed in impatience. 

George kicked Lee’s shin under the table. “...It would be incredibly stupid to ask you this…”

“George. Get it out.” You prodded.

“Wouldyoupretendtobemygirlfriend?” George said it so quickly, you couldn’t even make out any words.

“Huh?” You and Lee said at the same time, confused.

“Mate, she’d have to understand you first before she can say yes,” Lee sniggered, taking a sip of his water.

With another deep breath, George asked, “Would you pretend to be…my girlfriend…for one night?”

Your lips parted.

Watching your concerned face, he gave a crooked, reassuring smile. “No pressure, though…If being in a fake relationship wasn’t on your bucket list…I totally get it.” 

Shaking your head, you placed both your hands on the table. “No, I’m game. Whatever I can do to help you.” 

George raised a brow. “No negotiation?”

“Should’ve charged you, actually.”

“Too late.” A sly grin replaced his warm smile. 

A glint in his eyes said more than enough; you would do anything for your best friend.

—

“This dress is too uncomfortable,” You complained, tugging at the hem of the dress. It was a dreamy, flowy dress that complemented your body, which accentuated your curves. The only issue was the lacy rim, which aggravated your fragile skin. 

The lace brushed against the inside of your arms, already making you itch.

You'd spent years learning how to hide the worst of your eczema.

Some days were easier than others. Today? Not so compliant.

George and Lee knew that it was your worst enemy—but they didn’t know how insecure it made you. 

“You look great, Y/N. Spectacular, even.” George comforted. Before you could thank him, he whispered, “Not as good as me, though.”

You flicked his head, scowling. “Incredibly funny, Georgie.”

You were standing in front of the Burrow with the ginger close beside you.

“Are you ready?” George smiled, nudging your side.

You nudged him back. “Of course.”

He opened the wooden door, and you were greeted with the familiar Weasley scent of cinnamon, pumpkin, and coffee beans. 

The warm lighting kissed your skin as you walked further into the home. George softly shut the door behind him, then rubbed your shoulder. “You’re shaking like Ron’s old rat.”

You scoffed. “It’s cold.”

“Want my jacket?”

You looked at him. “That’s for after.”

Laughter erupted from the living room—a few steps away and you would be face to face with Mrs. Weasley.

“Look like we’re in love,” George whispered. Patting down your hair, you followed George into the full living room.

“And then, Ginny decided it would be the perfect time to jump off the platform!”

Mrs. Weasley slapped her knee; everyone roared with laughter again. 

Then, Mrs. Weasley’s eyes flickered to the corner in which you and George awkwardly stood. With wide eyes, she basically screamed.

“Oh my days!” Jumping up from the spot on her couch, she ran over and engulfed both you and George into a tight embrace. “My precious babies! How have you been? Both of you?”

You tried to speak, but your air circulation was compressed.

“Mum-” George choked out.

“Oh- Sorry!” Mrs. Weasley let go, stepping back and looking both of you up and down. 

Once her eyes fell on you, they stayed there. 

Her jaw slackened.

A silence—filled with realization—flowed through the entire room.

“George!” Mrs. Weasley gasped. 

“Mum,” George grinned. “Y/N and I are-”

“Georgie!” Mrs. Weasley swallowed him in a hug again. “I thought the day would never come!”

“Mum, I can’t-” George patted her back weakly. The cheeky woman let go of George’s lanky body and patted his cheek.

Observing you both for a moment, Mrs. Weasley seemed like she was… waiting.

George froze—you did too. 

All eyes were on you two.

You felt a gentle touch on the side of your hand.

“Holding hands now?” You hissed, barely audible.

“I- I don’t know,” George whispered awkwardly.

“You’re supposed to know!”

“You’re the one with relationship experience.”

“A bold, outrageous assumption, George.”

George glanced down at your hand, hesitated, then carefully laced his fingers through yours.

Mrs. Weasley practically melted.

“How adorable! I can’t even process this!” she gushed. “You’ve always been the good-looking boy, Georgie.”

Someone snorted from the couch. Looking past the ginger-haired woman, you saw a giggling Ginny Weasley.

“I always thought he was the ugliest one, Mum,” Ginny quipped.

You smiled at her, then noticed a dressed-up Hermione, Harry, and Ron sitting near her. They fell into silent laughter as Mrs. Weasley shot a glare at her. 

“Be happy your brother even found someone, Gin.” 

“Are we ready to go?” A rough voice called out from the entrance. Peeking, you saw Arthur Weasley in an orange suit. “Time to Apparate!”

“Honey, come here, come here!” Mrs. Weasley hurried to her husband, pulling him into the living room. 

“Your hands are freezing.” You said under your breath.

“You’re the one shaking.” George shot back.

“I’m uneasy.”

“About what exactly?”

“You make me uneasy.”

“That could mean many things.”

You sighed. “Take it as you will, Georgie.”

Suddenly, you were face-to-face with a tired-looking man you knew well. 

“Y/N! George! How nice to…” Mr. Weasley trailed off, taking in the sight. “Is this…wait…Molly!”

“Yes, Arthur! They’re together!”

Mr. Weasley bear-hugged you, careful not to mess up your hair.

“He chose the best of the best, for sure.” Mr. Weasley let go of you, cheekily smiling. You returned a small smile. “And good job, son.” The stubby man lovingly patted his son’s shoulder.

“Are we going now?” Ron complained with a sigh. 

“Let’s go, children!” Mr. Weasley announced, and everyone made their way out of the house. 

You stayed back with George, still awkwardly holding his calloused hand. 

“Still shaking, huh?” He teased. 

You scowled. “I already told you. I’m just…nervous.”

“About what? You never explained to me.”

A tense moment—like a heartbeat or a blink of an eye.

“... Disappointing your family.”

George’s eyes widened. “You? Disappoint? Do you even know who you are?”

“Just…me,” You mumbled, looking at your heels.

George let go of your hand and placed his hands on your shoulders. “Look, if you think my family hates you for being my…girlfriend, they don’t. They’re just in shock.”

“Lovebirds! We’re going!” Bill called out.

George reassuringly wrapped an arm around your shoulder, murmuring, “Just keep being you. They love you for you.”

You both walked out of the Burrow and prepared to Apparate.

—

One word to describe this wedding: overwhelming.

“I didn’t know you had a million aunts and uncles,” you joked, nudging George’s arm. He rolled his eyes. 

You two have been approached about four times in the past five minutes since you arrived. 

“George!” An elderly woman called out from a table. George took a breath, then turned to face her. 

“Hello, Aunt May,” He greeted. 

“Who’s this beauty?” Aunt May wiggled her brows. She was obviously drunk.

You waved. “Y/N L/N. Nice to meet you.”

“Have you two kissed yet?” She asked groggily. 

You stilled. 

No one’s asked that before.

“Um-” 

“We’ll see you around, May.” George took your hand and guided you away from the drunken woman. 

“What the hell was that about?” You questioned, weaving through the crowd of people around the refreshment table.

“She’s always like that.” He replied casually. 

“Georgie-kins!” 

George groaned as you stifled a laugh. Turning around, you faced another woman—a lot older, with smile wrinkles and greyish hair.

“Hi, Aunt Junie.” 

“How have you been? I haven’t seen your cute face in years!” The woman grinned, patting his shoulder. Her eyes fell on you; her smile broadened at the sight of you. “Is this your girlfriend?”

“Yup. Y/N L/N. My girlfriend.” George said, almost proudly.

“You two look adorable together—like two fitting puzzle pieces. Perfect.” 

You smiled politely, beaming. “Thank you so much.”

“Very kind of you to say, Aunt Junie.”

“Couples!”

You and George looked back to see a giddy man with a large camera. 

“Huh?”

“Come on! Get closer,” The man beamed.

You moved closer to the ginger boy.

“Closer! You’re cutting out the frame.” 

Another inch. You were basically squished against his arm.

“Come on, do you two even like each other?” The cameraman joked. 

George deeply exhaled, moved behind you, and loosely wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Is this good?” George asked the red-cheeked man. He nodded enthusiastically. 

“Say chili-cheese dog!”

“Chili-cheese- wait, what?”

The flash went off, basically blinding you and George. 

“Ow.” You squeezed your watery eyes shut.

“Take a look!”

The picture was a grainy, black-and-white photo. You could make out both of your confused faces—in general, a not-so-attractive picture.

“Thank you.” You smiled at the man. “Keep it, though. But thank you.” 

George led you away to an open table. Sitting down, you caught your breath. This entire wedding party had been insanely overwhelming, but the most stressful thing was your damn dress.

You discreetly adjusted the cuff again.

“That’s the eighth time you’ve fixed your sleeve,” George mumbled, looking into the distance.

You paused, looking at him with a raised eyebrow. “You’ve…noticed?” 

“I always do.” He did a double-take. “Not- not like that. I just sensed you’re uncomfortable…like you got ants in your dress.”

“What if I did?”

“I’d let them eat you.”

Your laughter doubled. “Very evil, you are.”

“Is it…your eczema?” George asked quietly in a more serious manner.

“Is it obvious?”

He shook his head. “Only ‘cause I’ve known you forever.”

You hummed in response, absentmindedly tracing your fingernails over the dry patch of skin.

Another scratch.

It was getting worse by the second.

You scratched it—harder this time. Maybe the itch would go away? 

Suddenly, you felt a cold hand touch yours, pushing it down to your lap.

“Y/N…”

You looked up at George. He was…worried.

“Yeah?”

“You’re…hurting yourself.”

He said it calmly. Not bombarding or judgemental. It was gentle.

The noise from the music blurred like static to your ears. 

“I-I know. It- I just hate it.”

“Hate your skin?”

“Yeah. Basically.”

“I think it makes you unique.” The corners of George’s lips twitched upward. His hand was still placed on top of yours. There was no one to deceive—no need to pretend, yet George still…held on to you.

“Oi! George!” Ron yelled. “Help with the cake, will ya?”

George sighed, standing up and patting your shoulder. “No more scratching, okay? Or Mum’s gonna think I got a cat to attack you.”

You snickered, watching him walk away to a struggling Ron and Harry.

—

“They were children, George,” You laughed, arm linked with his. You were exiting the party, sweaty from the final game they hosted.

“They were opponents, Y/N.” He reprimanded. 

“How do you feel now you’ve made five children cry?”

George shrugged with a grin. “Accomplished.” He patted your back. “You did pretty good for your first time playing that game.”

“I know. Horrifying, but worth it.”

Once the night autumn breeze hit your skin, you shivered involuntarily. 

“Cold?” George asked, slipping off his coat. 

“No, I’m-” Your teeth chattered before you could stop it.

“You’re cold.”

“Yeah. I am.”

He put the black coat over your shoulders, and you were consumed with warmth.

“Thank you.” You looked up at him with a small smile.

“Anything to not let you freeze to death,” George responded with a wink.

“George, dear, are you and Y/N coming back to the Burrow?” Mrs. Weasley asked, walking next to her son. 

“I think we’re calling it in early tonight, Mum,” George answered. 

“Oh, well, Y/N should come over for dinner on Sunday! Bill is bringing Fleur, too.” 

You raised your eyebrows. 

George looked just as worried.

“What do you think, Y/N? Think you’ll be able to make it, honey?” Mrs. Weasley prompted. 

You didn’t know what to say; unsure, you looked at George. He gave a look that said go with it.

“Um- yes! I’ll see my schedule. I would love to come, though!” You said with a warm smile. 

“Perfect! I can’t wait to see you again, sweet pea!” Mrs. Weasley gave you another motherly embrace and a kiss on the cheek. “Save Apparating, okay?” She tottered away back to her husband and the others.

“Another day I need to pretend to be your significant other?” You sighed. 

“I’m…sorry. I didn’t know this would be a repeating thing.” George scratched the nape of his neck. 

“It’s no problem. I’m okay with it. As long as your mother is happy with both of us…”

George hummed in agreement. 

“I should go home now.” You said after a second.

“I’ll come with you.”

Both of you Apparated to the front of your home. The moon glistened with a pearly white aura; the wind howled hard.

“Well, I’ll owl you.” You said slowly. You walked to the entrance and unlocked your door, George at your side.

“Yeah. Thanks for…making this wedding fun. Without you, I think I would've died from boredom.”

You giggled. “No problem. The cake was amazing.”

“When you smudged some on my face, sure.”

“Don’t hold a grudge over me.”

“Can’t promise it.”

George held eye contact with you for a few seconds, then dropped it. 

“It’s late. Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Sweet dreams to you too, Georgie.” You grinned, opening your door and shutting it behind you.

His soft eyes.

His light touch.

The wrinkles near his eyes when he smiled.

The way he cared.

It made your heart melt, all warm and fluffy inside.

…Was this…

Love…?

—

“How nice to see you again, Y/N!” Mrs. Weasley smiled as she opened the door. “You look so beautiful!” 

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. Thank you again for inviting me for dinner.” You walked into the warm house; you heard a familiar ring of chatter and laughter in the dining room.

“My pleasure, sweetheart! George isn’t here yet, had to get something. Come sit down; the food is nearly ready.” Mrs. Weasley steered you into the packed room and led you to an empty seat.

Two empty seats, one for you and one for George.

You sat down on the wooden chair, Ginny next to you.

“Hi, Y/N. You look really nice.” Ginny greeted you with a small smile.

“Oh! Um- thank you, Ginny. You smell great too!” You replied. “Wait- I mean, you look great.”

Ginny burst into laughter at your mess-up. “I don’t know how George did it. You’re, like, a hundred times funnier than him.” 

“Yeah, I…I try.” You gave her a subtle grin. 

The front door creaked open, letting in the dim sunset light. George walked into the dining room and looked around the room, cluelessly.

“Idiot,” Ginny whispered to you. “Oi! Here, dumbass!” 

George's eyes landed on you, and his lips cracked a smile.

“Hey, Y/N,” George said as he sat down next to you. 

“You don’t call her any nicknames?” Ginny asked. 

Your heart dropped. 

Oh god, please don’t, George, you thought, closing your eyes.

“Nicknames?” George inquired, fear lacing his voice. “Like…what?”

“‘Baby’, ‘love’, y’know, those cute lovey-dovey names,” Ginny informed.

“I do…call her those…sometimes.” George looked at you in panic. Help! he mouthed.

“Um- he does; he doesn’t do those names; he does an actual nickname.” You explained. Shoot! What am I getting at? What type of question is that anyway?

“Aw, like what?” Ginny prodded.

“Bunny.” George blurted.

“What?” Ron suppressed a laugh, looking at us from across the table. 

“Her patronus is a hare. And she's like a bunny. It makes sense, dimwit.” George scowled. 

“I think that’s adorable. George is like a carrot. You two were meant to be.” Ginny tilted her head to the side in admiration. “How cute.”

“Food’s ready!” Mrs. Weasley called out. The food came floating in by magic, then was placed in a sloppy line on the table.

“Gosh, my favorite,” You whispered to George. “Chicken noodle soup.”

“Ask her for the recipe.” 

“I’m too scared.”

“Mum!”

Mrs. Weasley looked at George. “Yes, dear?”

“Y/N’s asking for the recipe for your chicken soup."

Your face went red; you wanted to shrink yourself on the spot.  

“My recipe? Of course, sweetie! I’ll write it up before you leave,” Mrs. Weasley said sweetly.

“Thank you so much.” You said, still quite embarrassed. 

George nudged your arm. “Not that hard. She won’t bite your head off.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’ve seen her attempt that with you. I’m not taking any chances.”

“So, how did you two start dating?” Mr. Weasley asked.

You almost choked on a noodle. “How we…started-”

“Dating, yes! I’m curious.” 

You looked at George.

 Merlin.

“She hit me,” George started.

“What?” Your eyes widened.

“With a cookbook.”

“I did not!”

The table rose with chuckles. 

“She was teaching me her chicken recipe. Delicious, by the way.” George continued, ignoring your protests. “Fell in love with her after she cooked for me.”

“No way this is true.” Ginny giggled, intently listening.

“She’s just embarrassed.” George nudged your arm.

“You’re impossible.” You put your head in your hands. 

"Well, that's certainly more romantic than how Molly and I met." Mr. Weasley grunted.

“...Dad.” George rolled his eyes.

“What?” 

“How lovely!” Mrs. Weasley said cheekily, interrupting the conversation. “There is no better girl than Y/N, I can tell you that. You truly are one of a kind, missy.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Weasley. I’m honestly glad you raised such a great young man.”

George looked over at you, then brushed his hand against yours from under the table.

You slid your hand into his, squeezing it gently.

—

After dinner, you needed to get home to prepare for work the next day. 

You said goodbye to everyone, then apparated back home with George at your side.

“Y/N…” George stopped you before you could enter your house. 

“Mhm?”

“I think I should tell Mum.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Tell her what?”

“About…us.”

“Oh. Right. Forgot about that.”

An awkward silence rose between you two. You looked at your shoes.

“Well, I’ll…I’ll owl you what happens, then.” George weakly smiled. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

As he turned to apparate, you grabbed his hand.

Startled, he looked at you with raised eyebrows.

“George…” You started, but you couldn’t find the words. “I…” 

The ginger boy stood there, patiently waiting, looking at you with caring eyes.

“I don’t want you to tell Molly,” you rushed to explain. “Not that I’m embarrassed…it’s just…” You shifted uncomfortably, racking your mind for something to say. “This didn’t feel fake. This felt so…real.”

George’s lips parted in shock as he stared at you. “It didn’t?”

“No, George, it felt so…genuine to me,” you breathed.

A small laugh escaped his lips—out of relief, you assumed. 

“Merlin," he grinned. "I've been trying to figure out how to tell you that all week."

You blinked at him. “What?”

He rubbed the back of his neck. “I’m just saying I was feeling something more than just…friendship.” Looking down, he mumbled, “I would’ve missed this…all of this—the family dinners and spending more time with you—” 

You stepped closer to him, closing in the small gap, and placed a gentle kiss on his lips.

George was frozen at first, but then melted into it; he wrapped his arms around your waist, bringing you closer into him, and deepened the kiss with a smile on his lips.

The years of friendship and silent admiration—and now, you’re against him, under the moonlight, kissing.

A sweet, loving kiss that spoke more about your feelings than words ever could.

After a few heavenly seconds, you let go of his soft lips and looked up at his wide, precious eyes. 

“Then you won’t have to miss it,” you grinned, slinging your arms around his neck. “I’ll still be right here.”

[wwhiteferrett]

AHH IM SO EXCITED I LOVE U TYSM!! /p, you should totally open up requests like this for other people to request matchups too (if you want to)!! OKAY SO! here's a link to my GENERAL info -> https://docs.google.com/document/d/1XJggPnX8LyKU2k3zmGb8zJl7YFjke7_PXm1XRWrnwQY/edit?usp=sharing

some other helpful stuff that arent listed: <𝟑 .ᐟ fav current song: beautiful by bazzi

<𝟑 .ᐟ ideal rls: ship tropes I enjoy is best-friends to lovers, second chance, slow burn, and fake dating. some characters I consider my type are George Weasley (Harry Potter), Percy Jackson (Percy Jackson), and Dennis Whitaker (The Pitt).

<𝟑 .ᐟ hard nos?: i have a preference for men, but i’d love to hear your honest opinion! I trust ya ♥️

YOUR MATCH IS...

GEORGE WEASLEY

You’re playful, energetic, and an overall approachable person. You’re able to take(and understand) any jokes, even witty ones. You’re willing to do crazy things, matching George’s adventurous personality. George can be a thoughtful, comforting person sometimes - perfect for you during your lower, dim times. You and George would absolutely entertain each other - with both of your open and fun personalities. The Weasley’s have always been a food-loving family, so you can share your cilantro love with George! Your chic, classy style would contrast from George’s casual one, but both styles would merge in a beautiful way. + He has a warm color palette that absolutely complements gold jewelry…so George would definitely steal some of your rings or bracelets, then say a niffler got them.

click HERE for the oneshot

[wwhiteferrett]

a thank you! >3<

THANK YOU ALL FOR THE MATCHUP REQUESTS!

please note - it will take me some time to go through all of the requests because of school preparation and traveling!

first come first serve - my earlier requests are prioritized! recent ones will be sent out later <3

i appreciate your patience and i promise you, these oneshots are worth the wait! >w<

want to send a request? click HERE to see my steps!