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ickle-ronniekins · 4 years

Text

embrasse moi

request: from nonnie! “please can you do a super competitive fred and reader story and idk do with that what u will I trust your judgement”

pairing: fred x french!slytherin!reader

word count: 1.7k

A/N: i am ~feelin~ this request rn. i know quidditch wasn’t a thing during the triwizard tournament when faux moody was teaching just humor me. didn’t realize how much i need a french speaking fred until i wrote this 😩 also i definitely do not speak french and i've used google translate so i apologize in advance if any phrases are wrong LOL. i'll put the what the translations are supposed to be underneath the paragraphs they appear in and @ the bottom with an asterisk *

warning(s): a curse word (oops sry); ~steam~

tag list: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @how-do-life-does @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @semmelsemi @laneygthememequeen @snakesonaplane-7 @keoghans @helloallthethingsilove @dreamer821 @the-hufflepuff-of-221b @62442-am @wtfweasleyy @obsessedwithrandomthings @thoseofgreatambition @harrysweasleys @sleep-i-ness @shadowsinger11 @shadychaoticcollection @haphazardhufflepuff @afriendlyneighborhoodhufflepuff @hood-and-horan @letsfightsomeorcs @theweasleysredhair @purpleskiesstorm @hxfflxpxffs @wand3ringr0s3 @finecole @angelinathebook @highly-acidic @purplefragile @90shermione @zreads @susceptible-but-siriusexual @hollands-weasley @andromedaa-tonks @bbystrawberry0421 @princessof-theuniverse @cappsikle @mytreec @imseeinggred @idont-knowrn @flyingserpxnt @auroraboringalis57 @godricsswords @jejegu @annasofiaearlobe @starlightweasley @alwaysasadaesthetic @thisismysketchbook | message me to be added, loves!

“Slytherin wins!”

Fred watched as you threw your beater’s bat into the air while you did backflips on your broomstick in front of all of your teammates. He huffed dramatically; he normally didn’t fancy losing a match to Slytherin, but you showing off was just rubbing salt into the wound.

“Don’t think on it, mate,” George told his twin. He looked absolutely bloody exhausted. Ever since Slytherin had replaced their beaters who had graduated the year before, their team was unstoppable. You sort of stunned the entire school when you arrived at tryouts and crushed it, making the students question why in the bloody hell you hadn’t ever tried out for Quidditch in the first place.

As the Gryffindor team walked sluggishly back toward the changing rooms, the vile Slytherin team captain did not hold back from overly-complimenting his team, therefore firing shots in the Gryffindors’ direction.

“Never seen a more brilliant beater before,”

Fred rolled his eyes noticeably. As your teammates patted you on the back, Fred just scoffed loudly, hoping to grab your attention. When he saw that he had, he turned to George and Harry and said, “She wasn’t that brilliant.” George just shut his eyes and shook his head, sick of Fred’s constant complaining.

“Aw -- vous vous sentez mal, Fred? Ne sois pas si mauvais perdant.”

↳ “Are you feeling bad, Fred? Don’t be such a sore loser.”

You earned yourself another eye roll for that one.

“Speak bloody English, would you woman?” he said angrily.

You pursed your lips dramatically in his direction. If he hadn’t been so pissed off, he would’ve noticed how his heart rate had seemed to increase at the fluttering of your eyelashes as you winked at him. Except he’d always been too focused trying to one-up you to notice such things. “Better luck next time, Weasley.”

It wasn’t just Quidditch. It was everything. Charms, incantations, exploding snap games, hexes -- even things Fred absolutely loathed doing, like stupid readings in Divination. It had all started back in your first year, when you were able to kick off the ground first in your flying lesson; you were a Muggleborn and had no idea how to fly. This annoyed Fred to no end, because he’d been flying since he could walk! And ever since, you two fell into this intense competitive streak, not giving into one another. George sure was over it though. Had been for a long time.

He gently tugged on Fred’s robes to lead him back toward the Gryffindor changing rooms, but it was a lost cause. Fred was already ripping off his uniforms due to pure anguish. George sucked in a deep breath before leaving his brother on the pitch. “Bloody hell, here we go again.”

-- -

The next day, Fred was struggling to get through classes due to his lack of sleep from the night prior, and it didn’t help when he was partnered up with you in Defense Against the Dark Arts in Moody’s attempt to separate him and George. Begrudgingly, his feet carried him over toward your desk where you stood, arms crossed and smirk bright. George on the other hand looked particularly jovial to be very far away from the two of you.

“Professor?”

Moody growled. “Not now, Weasley. Time to practice nonverbal hexes with your partner. No complaints.”

Fred huffed a bit and turned toward you. You cocked your head to the side, “What’s the matter? Scared you won’t be able to out hex me?” You narrowed your eyes at him and deepened your grin.

Fred scoffed. “I can out hex you in my sleep.”

You rolled your eyes and muttered under your breath, “Pauvre, gentil garçon. Tellement naïf.”

↳ “Poor, sweet boy. So naive.”

He didn’t even bloody care what you’d said, he was just so ready for this lesson to be over. He positioned himself a few feet away from you and stood in a rather dramatic, annoyed stance, waiting for you to just do your worst, already.

Your eyes seemed to darken with concentration. Fred was hoping that the slight smirk he painted on his face would be enough to distract you, but he was unfortunately proven wrong. Suddenly his knees were reversed and he began to falter on his own two feet. You and a few others surrounding you both, including his own twin, fell into laughter.

“Walk much, Weasley?”

His eyes turned to slits as he reversed the hex back, ignoring the crimson colour flooding his cheeks and the laughs still bouncing around the room. You still wiggled your eyebrows at him as he took his own position, pointing his wand toward you. He really needed to bloody concentrate, but the sing-song sound of your voice as you rattled off phrases in your native tongue sent him spiraling. He focused his thoughts solely on the one word: Titillando. He might’ve been distracted, but still managed to hex you.

Your laughter grew due to the tickling that took you over. You fell to your knees and giggled like a little school girl, grabbing at your arms and legs and back as the tickling sensation only heightened. Fred waltzed over to you, confidence exuding him, and lifted his eyebrows at you. He grinned evilly. “Got you.”

Somehow he found himself centimeters from you. He slowly lifted his wand and reversed the hex, and you were now completely out of breath, staring up at him with beady eyes. He took your hand in a tight grip and pulled you to your feet. He could feel your breath on his neck. “Sanglant brillant,” you managed to say in a breathless whisper.

↳ “Bloody brilliant.”

He certainly didn’t need you to translate that one. He wiggled his eyebrows at you and breathed, “Glad you think so.”

Shit. You didn’t realize you’d said it aloud, and you hadn’t managed to realize how close he was to you. You pushed on his chest and walked out of his way, fixing your tie and cardigan before sighing deeply to rid yourself of your flustered feelings. You cleared your throat and said, “Again.”

Cheekiness overtook his expression. “Looking for me to out jinx you again, are we?”

“Just do it, Fred.”

“Why can’t you just finally admit that I’m better than you? Put this whole thing to rest --?”

You cut him off. “Tu n'es pas! You stupid boy --” you wandered toward the entrance of the classroom; you needed some air, he was driving you up a wall. You stepped into the empty corridor. “Don’t let this foolishness go to your head. I’ve always been better, I always will be better.”

↳ “You are not!”

Fred laughed. “You’re out of your mind, what on earth --”

“It’s obvious!” you cried, throwing your arms up into the air. You inched forward toward him, and you were able to see the veins in his neck protruding just a bit; you were clearly getting to him. The tips of his ears were bright underneath that red hair of his. “Just admit it to me, Weasley. You can’t handle a girl being better at you -- better at hexes, better at lessons, better at Quidditch. Better at everything.” You stood on the tips of your toes in an attempt copy his stance. “And it’s driving you bloody mad, isn’t it?”

Fred sucked in a very deep breath and clenched his jaw tightly to suppress his anger.

Still, you prodded. “Isn’t it?”

Fred just wanted you to shut up already. So in a moment of fury, he growled and immediately pushed you against the wall and pressed his lips to yours in an attempt to silence you. He felt your shock against him as he parted your lips with his tongue, willing himself to not be distracted by the faint taste of your cherry lip balm. When he was sure you’d be silent, he slowly pulled away from you and let the shock roam through him too.

There was fire in your eyes. You blinked slowly a few times and eyed him up and down, as if trying to make sense of your own thoughts. Fred was sure you were about to deck him for being a right git until you lifted your hand and yanked on his tie and whispered, “Encore. Embrasse moi encore.”

↳ “Again. Kiss me again.”

He didn’t need a translator for that, either. He watched you lick your lips before he pressed himself into you again. You both met one another’s hunger with an intensity you couldn’t quite understand, but Fred reckoned this was probably the underlying reason for all of the competition between you two. How could he have possibly missed it all these years?

The idea of heading back inside the classroom for the lesson completely slipped from his mind when you grabbed two fistfuls of his hair in your hands and pressed your chest hard into his. By the muffled sigh you emitted against his mouth, he was sure he was driving you mad, and he was hellbent on getting you to be the first one to break with a moan.

But a low, unamused grunt ripped you apart from one another -- Fred was shocked that something had managed to break the ferocity between you both. You bit down on your bottom lip as you both turned to be face to face with a very disturbed and annoyed looking Mad-Eye, and George cracking up right behind him. You quickly swatted Fred’s hand away from your exposed hipbones, but he was pretty sure Moody had noticed anyway.

“Back inside,” your professor growled simply to both of you. In a lower voice, Mad-Eye continued, “I’ve got to be barking mad -- I did not sign up for this..” George winked at his brother and mouthed something that slightly resembled a Knew it, I bloody knew it, before making his way back into the classroom.

Fred turned back toward you and glanced down at your red and swollen lips. “Ready for me to out hex you again?” he asked with a glint of cheekiness in his voice.

“In your dreams, Fred,” you replied, narrowing your eyes and swatting him across the chest in your usual irritated tone. He was about to drag you back into the classroom but you yanked on his tie once more. The sultriness in your voice that dripped from your mouth made him not want to focus on the lesson at all; he’d rather think about many, many other things instead. “First -- embrasse moi, you prat.”

↳ “Kiss me,”

“Mmm,” he replied hungrily, licking his own lips in anticipation of getting you alone later. But he could get you riled once more, right? In more ways than one? He absolutely adored the completely startled and impressed look in your eye when he replied to you in French, “Bien sûr mon amour.”

↳ “Of course, my love.”

* vous vous sentez mal, Fred? Ne sois pas si mauvais perdant. - Are you feeling bad, Fred? Don’t be such a sore loser.

* Pauvre, gentil garçon. Tellement naïf - Poor, sweet boy. So naive.

* Sanglant brillant. - Bloody brilliant.

* Tu n'es pas! - You are not!

* Encore. Embrasse moi encore. - Again. Kiss me again.

* Bien sûr mon amour. - Of course, my love.

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