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the-black-swan-paracosm · 9 months

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Star Wars fanfic idea

(Oh, please, please, please write this. Send me the link, I beg you)

Jango Fett’s twin brother, Janga.

Papa Fett was bad at naming his kids.

Arla and Mama Fett died of a plague two years prior to Jaster squatting in their field

—

“Jango-“

“I’m Janga. Jang-ah. Ah.” The twin emphasized.

—

Y’all I read so many Industrial Revolution Song of Fire and Ice fanfiction that I thought, “Hmmm, let’s make it Star Wars but with Mandalorian armor and saves Manda’yaim with economics and wit.”

—

Possible beginning chapter:

The planet Concord Dawn where the Fetts were born…and their family died…

Decades ago, the mercenary group known as the Mandalorians fractured, giving rise to a chaotic splinter group. They called themselves “Death Watch” and filled a barbarian called Vizsla, who believed that the Mandalorians should conquer the galaxy.

Vizsla orchestrated a bloody coup against the true Mandalorians, still loyal to a reformed murderer and journeyman named Jaster Mereel, who believed that the Mandalorians were merely highly-paid soldiers.

On Concord Dawn, Death Watch scattered the Mandalorians…and a hunt began…

“You can’t escape me, Jaster! I’ll burn all your hiding places to the ground and execute anyone who helps you! And when you have nowhere left to run, I’ll have your head!” Vizsla swore while Jaster and his surviving men retreated into a field that provided cover with the tall harvest.

Mereel and his men came across a farmer at the heart of the field.

The farmer dropped his basket and grabbed the rifle resting nearby. Mereel raised his hands away from his blasters.

“Please, we aren’t here to rob or harm you. We just need shelter until the next rotation’s nightfall.” Mereel pleaded. His men kept their blasters holstered or lowered in deference to their leader.

The farmer stared Mereel down with his rifle, never wavering from the weak point in the Mando’s armor at his neck. The farmer must have heard the honesty in Jaster’s plea or seen something in his body language because he lowers his blaster.

“You lot will stay hidden in the field. You,” the Farmer nodded his head at Jaster, “I have food I’m willing to give to you and your men for the night and tomorrow morning. After that you’re on your own. This fields harvest ain’t ready for another month so don’t kriff with my plants!” The farmer stared down each of Mereel’s men, challenging them to try it and find out what will happen.

“Keep quiet, too.” The Farmer carried on, “I have twin sons that are too damn curious, each with their own blaster rifles. They shot the last squatters in our fields, so either make noise and take your chances or be quiet and survive.”

The True Mandalorians solemnly nod, increasingly regretting their encounter with this farmer.

“Now, Red Cape come and get your bread basket. My boys should be prepping the harvester which is in the opposite field to this one.”

Mereel followed dumbly and returned to his men without issue or the farmer.

Jango and Janga noticed the boot prints the next morning. They were military boots, not their father’s work boots. Shifting the rifles on their shoulders, they silently nodded to each other, agreeing to track their newest squatter.

However their father stopped them.

“Jango! Janga!”

“Da!?!” They yelled in-sync.

“You two should be fixing the harvester not playing out here. Get back to work.“

“What’s in–“ Jango started to ask.

“–the basket?” Janga finished.

“Food.” Their dad replied gruffly, “There’s a beggar in the fields.”

“A beggar?”

“Who is it?”

“The harvester, Jango. Janga. Don’t make me tell you two again.”

They worked in tandem on the engine of the harvester. Jango took the first shift while Janga took the second. It was only around noon that they were interrupted by a rough voice.

“Hey, kids.”

The twins turned to see two armored men. One with a rifle pointed at Jango.

“Let me see your hands. Kriff me, they’re identical.” Vizsla spoke.

“What do you want?” The Fett twins said together.

“Kriff, that was creepy. We’re looking for some bad men. Have you seen any strangers?”

“Other than you?”

“Smart kids. Let’s just shoot them and move on.” The soldier with the rifle remarked.

Vizsla marched closer and kneeled to their level, “I will let him kill the two of you.” Cupping the boy’s cheeks.

The soothing gesture felt off-putting in their tense situation. The soldier had moved closer too. The blaster was centimeters from Jango’s head.

The twins shared a look and nodded.

“Dad gave a beggar some food today.” Jango began.

“We think the beggar wore boots…” Janga tensely continued.

“Soldier boots.” The twins finished.

“Jaster.” Vizsla muttered to himself and straightened away from the boys.

“What now?” The soldier asked for a directive.

“We’ll make sure the boys get home, of course!” He laughed.

Vizsla commed his soldiers to capture the farm. By the time the twins were marched to their house by Vizsla and the soldier, their house was already captured and their father kneeled on the ground.

“Sitrep!” Vizsla commanded.

“The farmer, Fett, hasn’t said anything. We’ve already asked him about if he’s seen any Mandalorians, but he refuses to talk.”

“Well, now that his children are here, maybe he has loosened his tongue.”

The Death Watch soldiers aimed at the twins, who tightly held hands and stared at their father for clues about what to do.

“My name is Vizsla. I am the leader of the Death Watch. I’m looking for a man. A coward. Your boys already told me about a beggar in your fields. Care to elaborate?”

“It was just another beggar. He already left.”

“Really? That’s interesting. Your boys said the beggar had military boots on. You feed every soldier that comes your way? This is the last time I ask nicely…where is Jaster Mereel?”

“Boys!” The twins startled at their father’s attention, “Take care of each other.”

Vizsla drew his blaster and fired a bolt into the farmer’s head. The whine of the gun echoing in the twin’s heads.

The Death Watch leader turned his attention back to the children.

“Well now boys, why don’t you two show me where those boot prints were and I’ll consider letting you live.”

The twins stood in shock. Unable to focus on Vizsla as their father’s dead body remained in full view.

“Boys!” The killer yelled, “where exactly did you see those footprints?”

Before the brothers could even point out the direction, a fusillade of blaster bolts came from that direction. Several of Vizsla’s men were down, and those that remained weren’t enough to deal with Jaster’s men.

Vizsla retreated into a hover car, intent on regrouping with the rest of his men. One of his men sounded the retreat, and Vizsla watched as Jaster grabbed the twins into the cover of the crops.

“Burn the fields!” Vizsla commanded. “There’s no way Jaster will survive that.”

Jango and Janga hugged each other as they mourned. Their minds clouded with grief, only to have a voice cut in,

“Field’s on fire! Let’s move boys.” Jaster informed his men. He turned to the twins, “Your family is dead, boys! Come with us or die here too!”

Janga looked at his brother, he nodded and they followed after the armored men. The smoke thickened and clouded the air and the heat around them grew in intensity.

“Jaster! I can’t see anything!” One of the soldiers up front yelled.

Jango and Janga recognized this trail though. It led to an irrigation tube. Locking hands they shoved their way to the front.

“This way!”

“Come on.”

The fire grew around them and the soldier with the red pauldrons complained, “Can’t see anything.”

“We’re al-“

“-most there.”

“Boys, how the hell do you do that? Wait, almost where?” But his question was answered when the plant-stalks were stomped down. “An irrigation tube?”

“We can crawl-

“-under the fire.”

“Or get boiled alive,” Montross remarked.

“It’s not like-“

“You lot have-“

“A better option!”

Janga and Jango twisted open the cap and Janga braced his hands to help Jango in.

“Wait!” Jaster called out, “I’ll go first. You boys follow after.”

They water slide to the drain outlet which ended outside of the Fett’s field.

“Check your weapons and catch your breath.” Jaster ordered his men, “We’re moving out as soon as it gets dark.”

Another soldier remarked as he poured the trapped water out of his helmet, “Now, we just have to find Vizsla. He’ll need to resupply…”

“We can take you to the closest town.” Janga said as he and his twin watched their home burn.

“They sell food and power cells. He’ll be there.” Janga continued.

“You know how to use a blaster, boys?”

“We can shoot blasters and rifles.” They answered in-sync.

“Our dad…”

“He taught us.”

“Then he was a good man. The twins come with us.” Jaster ordered. The group laid down a plan of action.

Meanwhile at the town, Death Watch had stormed in. Vizsla happy with the assumed death of his enemy, Jaster.

“Alright gentlemen. Two days rest before we head to Moonus Mandel. This town is ours.” Tor relieved his men.

One of the Death Watch soldiers shoved aside a cloaked crippled in his path, “Move it, cripple.”

However, the beggar spun around and the whine of a blaster resounded. The soldier fell dead and the disguised Mandalorian took cover.

Hidden in one of buildings, Jaster commed, “This is Jaster. Phase one successful. Move to phase two. Montross, open fire.”

Several True Mandalorians open fired on the Death Watch soldiers. Boxing the men closer to their vehicle.

Jango ran and slide under the tank, attaching a bomb to the carriage. He rolled out and signed to his brother as he scrambled away.

Janga commed, “He’s done! Blow it up!” Jango skidded next to Janga.

The APC detonated and the twins watched the destruction.

“Phase three complete.” Jaster announced, “Pick off the stragglers.” The words emerged from the comm.

They noticed and recognized one of the surviving enemy soldiers. They raised their blasters together and pointed them at the man.

“You killed-

“-our dad!”

“He was just a casualty of war, kids.”

Then the man charged at them with a hidden blade, they drop their blasters to save their necks.

At the same time Jaster was making his way to what was left of the ride. “Damn!” Jaster yelled when he inspected the empty vehicle, “Vizsla’s gone. Finish off your current targets and pull out!” He ordered.

The boys scrambled for a dead soldier’s weapons as Death Watch’s Second in Command chased after them, “Stop playing soldier…”

But whatever he wanted to say next died with him as the boys fired the blaster together. The twins just killed a man. They just killed. Theyjustkilledamantheyjustkilledaman

Suddenly hands rested on both their shoulders and they looked at the man between them.

“You came through, Jango, Janga.” Jaster said. “But we have to go. Now.”

“He’s dead.” They whispered as Jaster lifted both of them into his arms.

“Yes. Do you two feel any better?”

“No…”

“We don’t know.”

“Not yet.”

“Good.” Jaster responded. Tossing their stolen blaster aside. “Welcome to the Mandalorians.”

—

Montross greeted the twins incorrectly, “Ah, Janga, Jango. Good morning. Have you seen your buir?”

“Right here Montross. Jango, Janga,” pointedly looking at Montross over the correction, “It’s time for your morning drills.”

Do a Rosencratz and Guildenstein

—

Eyayah - echo

[Agglutinative language - A twin is the echo of its twin. ]

—

Jaster looked at his boys.

“Jango wants to become a warrior to protect me.”

“And Janga wants to make the armor to protect me.”

His ade wanted to become a goran and verd. Well, Jaster certainly had his work cut out for him.

—

gedin'la

eccentric, cranky, in a mood - literally *almost insane*

That was what many had taken to calling Janga.

That or “Ashi Jan’ika” (other little Jango). However, that one resulted in fights with those of equal or lesser rank and verbal assault to those above Janga’s status.

(Jaster will never confess it, but he refers to both boys as Jan’ika when he doesn’t know which one he is speaking to…)

But Janga earned his new nickname by his insane forging methods. Janga applied what he has learnt from his sciences, maths, and even history classes into his blacksmithing skills.

Jango understood his twin’s dream better than both the treasury and Jaster. So from his bounty coffers, Jango supported the construction of Janga’s forge.

[Janga invents wootz Damascus steel

Different types of steel pressed together create different colors. By combining dark and light steel, patterns can emerge.

Due to the original wootz Damascus steel method being lost and the original source of forging it unknown, Janga will include pure beskar as the unknown element used to forge these blades and armor.]

For each blade that Janga makes, he personalizes it by making the handle out of wood.

He bought a grove of trees from Concord Dawn. When he makes a blade, Janga cuts a branch off and uses the wood to create handles or grips.

Janga uses “salamander fur” to insulate and deoxygenate the kiln. It’s a fabric that loves to be set on fire

—

Jaster and the Goran master cry cause Janga shits on a thousand years of tradition. Jaster once begged to know why Janga would do this to tradition.

Janga rebuffs Jaster by saying that he is, “Mando mandokarla teh manda bat Manda'yaim, Mand’alor”

A Mandalorian having the epitome of Mando virtue from the state of being Mandalorian in mind on the planet Mandalore, Sole Ruler.

And Jaster responds:

“Pare! Ni linibar papuur’gal par gar paklalat.”

“Wait, I need wine for your wit.”

—

Names his weapons, gear, probes, drones, and droids with reference to pop culture

Jon, Poru, Joji, and Ringo

Kihote and Roshinante

Pinkupansā and Inspekutā Kurōsō

Tùbāgē and Dá-fēi yā and Mǎ-wén Huǒxīng-rén

Méilín and Āsā and Mógēn Lè-fēi

—

Chapters dedicated to making armor, weapons, and miscellaneous items for Mando + co

-Weapons for Jaster

-Armor for Jango (I saw that suit comparison for Boba and Din and how Boba where’s an old fashion suit when compared to Din’s Armani one. That upset me so I want Jango to have a super cool beskar’gam wootz steel thing)

-Custom helmets for diff alien species, (Janga invents the flexible metal design helmets for Togaruta and Twi’leks) [there’s a tumblr artist who draws mando helmets for aliens. Find them, that’s what I’m referring to with this option]

-Dog collars, ID tags

-Prosthetic limbs

-Little Metal Mando toy (that one toy wear the helmet comes off it was an ancient toy)

-Metal marbles, for games

(I’m just listing things I think a blacksmith makes at this point lol)

—

Possible chapter:

Janga answered his comm,

“Evening caller, you’re on air with Janga Fett.”

“Janga…” Jango’s voice carried a guilty tone.

“Jango, what’d ya do this time?”

“…We were attacked by pirates. They raided the ship and…and took the knife you made for me. I’m so sorry! I know how hard you worked on that for me; and how much time you put into making it and, and, and it was the first of its kind. I’m so, so sorry!”

“Well, that was heartfelt and sincere. Could you bring Jaster over to the comm?” Janga replied, ignoring his twin’s apology.

Jango said nothing for a few moments and Jaster announced himself on the comm,

“Janga? What is it?”

“Open your app features in your helmet.”

“Okay?”

“Find the application named “Ni di’kut mar'eyir””

“Janga, why do I have an app called “Find my Idiot?””

“‘Cause I installed it. Duh.”

Jaster sighed.

“Why are you sighing? You’re gonna be soooo thankful for it in the next second. Open it.”

“Janga, what am I looking at here? There are childish drawings of you and your brother’s face on a…map? Star chart?”

“Ding ding ding!” Janga crooned, “I put a tracker in Jango’s knife.”

“You put a tracker in my knife!?” Jango yelled, sounding offended.

“‘Course I did. You said it yourself. I worked hard on it, I spent a long time on it, and it’s the first of its kind. Of course I built in a tracker into the wooden handle. Since no one sane would destroy such a knife, I figured, it’s as good a place as any to put a tracker. You’re welcome, by the way, as I just found your pirates.”

“Janga,” Jaster hesitated, “Do I want to know how many trackers you’ve installed in others’ armor and weapons?”

“Prolly not, no. Find my Idiot is super popular among parents though. I’m not ashamed of it. I have my own tracker. Jango has several. You have some in your gauntlets and boot heels. What’s more is I donate all the money I make from this to the organizations in charge of the foundlings. Anonymously, of course. The way I figured, I’m already rich, what would I do with all that extra money? Become more rich?” Janga scoffed, “Anyway, thanks Jango. That was a super heartfelt apology. Next time keep my first-of-its-kind knife on your person at all times. Jaster, have fun kicking those pirates’ asses. Oh wait, have you used the whistling birds I made you, yet?”

“No, why?” Jaster replied tentatively.

Janga laughed, “Oh, well…it’ll be fun experience for you then, when you do. Jango, you got to record it for me. Think of it as a way to make up for being an idiot. Anyway, I have orders to fill. Things to build. Stuff to blow up. Laters!”

“Janga, Janga wait—“ Jaster’s pleading was cut off as Janga ended the transmission.

A few hours later Janga accepts another call,

“Late night caller, you’re on the air with Janga Fett.”

“Color? Why were the explosions colorful? How did you make them colorful?”

Janga cackled, “Pretty neat, right?”

“The corpses look like someone dropped paint cans on them.”

“Oh I can’t wait to see the footage! Tell me you’ve got footage!”

Jaster sighed heavily, “Yes, your brother got footage. He would have called you, but he’s been laughing so hard for the past 10 minutes that he’s clutching his gut and crying. You should expect several order requests for your…what did you name them again?”

“I’ve been calling them “Sal-Tracyn be Osik’lane”.”

“”Color-Fire of Horribleness”? Yeah. That, that fits.”

—

“Well, well. If it isn’t Haat and Haa’it. You sure there isn’t a Ijaat laying around somewhere?” The Mandalorian joked.

“You think you’re so clever…” Janga grumbled and kicked at the ground.

(It’s a twin thing for people to joke, ‘where’s your walking mirror,’ ‘where’s the other you,’ ‘well, here’s dumb. Where’s dumber,’ ‘Tweedle-dee and Tweedle-dum’ they think they’re so funny.)

—

#jango fett #star wars #twin oc #jaster mereel #mandalorians #mandalore #writing prompt #story prompt #story ideas #ideas #tales of the jedi #fanfic

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wreckofawriter · 8 months

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Only If You Catch Me

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now

word count: 4.4k

warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!

a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.

“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar.

You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy”

The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles.

“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed.

“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last.

Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”

“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.

“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.

“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”

Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.

Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”

You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”

Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued.

“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated.

“Exactly” The twins replied in unison.

Alicia snickered beside you.

Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.

“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.

Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.

You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles.

“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.

“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled, “He reckons it’ll be his gut.”

You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team.

“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.”

Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”.

“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer.

Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you.

“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”

“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother.

“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm.

Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced.

Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.

“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?”

You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently.

Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!”

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.”

Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.”

You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”

“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”

You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”

Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.

You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred.

You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.”

Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”

He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.”

You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy who was now standing to leave the pub.

“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped.

George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.

“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked.

“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”

Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth.

Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely.

Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.”

“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”

“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled.

“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out.

“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped.

Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.”

Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.

“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.”

Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.”

“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.”

Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered.

“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.

The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him. Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.

That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber.

By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready.

“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.”

He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused.

You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring.

“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously.

You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles.

“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?”

You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle.

As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him.

“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”

George chuckled.

Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.

“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately.

The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation.

Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly.

The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so.

Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.

Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you.

He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.

Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt.

He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two.

Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes.

“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms.

Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions.

“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open.

“Fred?” You mumbled, confused.

The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground.

Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face.

“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded.

As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.

“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!”

Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”

But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.”

You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”

George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”

The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?”

You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair.

“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes.

The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again.

Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air.

By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life.

In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were.

Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face.

Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red.

He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!”

Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice.

You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”

You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.”

Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles.

“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling.

“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner.

You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was.

Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch.

How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?

The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room.

As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles .

As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”

“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia.

“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away.

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.”

His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly.

“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.”

And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?”

Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.”

You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.

George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman.

You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form.

Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly.

A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.

You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.

You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away.

He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.

You furrowed your brow, “What?”

“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.”

It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead.

He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist.

“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused.

“For what?”

“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully.

You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.”

He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.”

You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy.

“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.”

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still.

You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.

One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.

“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky.

Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him.

“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face.

“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps.

You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.

You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own.

He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time.

This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.

You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence.

Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust.

“Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.

“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.”

You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race.

“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.

“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~♡~

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