#ivoryblurbs
Note
hiya! i’m OBSESSED with your writing btw..
i was wondering whether i could please request smth with george w x fem reader
was thinking something like george (and fred, because we love a secretly supportive brother) have been writing to their mum about how all round great r is and molly just HAS to meet her
(maybe slight hurt/comfort with r having not so nice parents) reader is invited to spend *pick a holiday* at the burrow… chaotic fluff and motherly doting from molly ensues
tysm if you consider this xx
a/n: THANK YOU for choosing to be obsessed with my silly little pieces! also, this request is so wholesome! was a real cozy moment to write this.
pairing: george weasley x fem!reader
warnings: none.
pretty good idea
14.10.23
“Do you really think this is a good idea, Georgie?” you say as you shift your weight from one foot to another.
George almost melts at the nickname. He most definitely melts at the thought of you caring so much about him, to be nervous about just meeting his family.
He places a reassuring hand on you shoulder, and lets in travel down to taka your hand in his. Squeezing it tightly, he says, “They will absolutely love you.”
Standing just outside the Burrow, he looks at you with a soft smile.
“What are you doing?” you ask.
He exhales lightly. “I’m just enjoying this moment when I still get to have you all for myself. It will all change in just a sec.”
“It will…” you mumble, not fully managing to shake of the nervous feeling harbouring in your chest.
The worrying wrinkle between your brows is back. “Actually, maybe I should just go–”
The door to the Burrow slams open, revealing a cheery, round-faced woman.
“There you are!” Mrs. Weasley almost yells. She pulls you in for a hug, squeezing tight. “I’ve been so looking forward to meeting you! George has mentioned you in every letter – every letter – he’s written to me. I thought, if (y/n) is so amazing, I simply have to meet her!”
She continues her chattering as she pulls you inside. Inside is bubbling with activity and chatter and light and laughter. It’s overwhelming at first, your own family always keeping a respectful distance and somewhat cold aura. But this warmth, this obvious love, welcomes you and pulls you in.
“Hey, (y/n)!” Fred approaches you, reaching his hand up for a high-five.
You hesitantly comply, saying, “Hi Fred.”
He smiles lightly. “I see you survived mum.”
You smile, still feeling the warmth and welcoming aura of Molly Weasley. “She’s really sweet.”
He snorts, saying in a sarcastic tone. “Yeah, yeah. Just you wait til she starts knitting you socks for Christmas!”
You can’t help but smile at the thought. “They would be my most loved socks of all.”
—
After dinner, you end up in the small living room. Ginny and Fred are busy playing a cardgame. Mr and Mrs Weasley make low conversation in the kitchen, the radio buzzing with some cheesy song about “Love is a strange kind of magic…”
George pulls you closer, almost pulling you into his lap. Sitting in the worn-out couch, you can feel his breath on your ear. He’s warm and wonderful, his knitted sweater slightly scratching on you exposed neck. You relax into him, smiling contentedly.
“I told you they would love you. Just like I do.” George cuddles his freckled nose into your ear. It tickles ever so slightly.
You hum. “I love you too.”
Fred throws a candy wrapper across the room, hitting George in the back of the head. “Stop being gross!”
“You’re just jealous, since you don’t have the balls to ask out Angelina!”
Fred’s ears turn red, starting to match his hair. “Shut up, I’m working on it.”
“Oh, yeah? Work a little harder then!” George bites back.
He turns his attention to you, softening instantly. Pulling ha loose strand of hair and toying with it between his fingers, he almost whispers, “You still think it was a bad idea?”
You lean into him. “Hmm. No. Pretty good idea, actually.”
“Yeah. Pretty good.”
#george weasley x reader#george weasley#george weasley imagine#fred weasley#fred weasley x reader#weasley twins#harry potter#george weasley fanfic#ivoryblurbs
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could you write something about cuddling george after you both had detention with umbridge and comforting each other? thanks!!
a/n: these two are just so cute ugh. hope you like it, love !😘
pairing: george weasley x gn!reader
warnings: mentions of blood.
summary: you and george find comfort in each other after a detention with umbridge. fluff. friends to lovers.
18.10.23
not stupid at all
It’s still early. Still early in the night. Early in your lives – barely on the cusp of just sixteen and seventeen. Early in your relation to the each other, no definition in place yet. Just a loose statement of spending nights and mornings and free days together.
It’s another one of those nights. Sitting together on George’s bed in the 7th year boy’s dormitory, you’re both afraid of showing too much. Too much emotion. Too much pain. Too much of your selves.
The words written in blood on your hands still fresh, stinging with an ugly sensation.
“It’s fine”, you say, coddling your hurting hand into your chest. Tears prick your eyes. You smile forcibly. “Really, it’s nothing.”
George looks at you with big, sad puppy eyes. His hand isn’t much better than yours, still all his attention is drawn to your pain rather than his own.
Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry.
“Hey, you know what Professor McGonagall did the other day?” he suddenly says.
“What?” you splutter.
He can barely hide his smile. “She turned Umbridge’s hat into a frog.”
You laugh, confused. “Why?”
“She said it was to demonstrate the noble art of transfiguration… But I think she really just wanted to see Umbridge shreak.”
“She did?”
“Yeah. She started screaming bloody murder. McGonagall just stood there–”
You both burst into laughter. It’s a relief more than anything. Laughing for the sake of not crying.
George suddenly wraps you up in a warm hug. Squeezing tighter than necessary. You breathe in tandem, listening to each others heart beats. You feel his hands bunch at your knitted jumper – borrowed from him, a maroon colour knit with a big G in the front.
You hear his hearbeats, steady and fast. Yours is ticking faster and faster.
George releases the hug to lock eyes with you. He looks more serious than normal, usually hiding behind a grind and a quick joke.
He breathes. “I…”
You look at him, swallowing quickly. “Yes?”
He looks away quickly, ears turning red. “It’s… it’s stupid. Just forget it.”
“I’m sure it isn’t stupid.”
Taking your non-hurting hand in his, he’s more gentle than necessary. He takes a quick breath. Leaning in to be closer, he looks into your eyes. Then he places a solemn kiss on your cheek.
You blossom, barely being able to hide your smile.
“What d’you think?” he asks.
You smile, thinking he’s far too charming for his own good. “Not stupid at all.”
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mwah! thank you, thank you, thank you
i’m honestly in love with your writing and ‘lovebug’ was so cute!! all the little details and everything were so just ugh <3
i really appreciate you even considering my requests (especially seeing as i requested two in quite a short period)
- 🦕
thank you thank you thank YOU! i had such a good time writing both of your requests❤️
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Would you write a blurb for Seamus Finnigan of his girlfriend appreciating his Irish accent?
thank you
3/6/20
note: i will not say my irish is any good, but i have watched an extensive amount of ‘derry girls’. make of that what you like.
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---
“say something. anything.”
“what?” woat.
“thank you.”
he’s all dimples and smiles. “what was that for?”
“that’s even better.”
“... i’m confused?”
“i’m just appreciating your wonderful accent. please, feel free to speak.”
he’s turning into deep red roses. it’s a rare sight - you’re proud to be the cause of it.
“you’re very irish.”
“i know?”
“don’t worry, it’s a compliment.”
he doesn’t know what to do with himself. “thank you?”
“no. thank you.”
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Hi could you please write something with Percy Weasley during 6th year? Only if you have the time and motivation, please don’t stress yourself!!
kissable
5/6/20
note: the politeness of this request makes me believe in humanity again. also it’s important to me that you know that my face claim to percy weasley is eddie redmayne in ‘the theory of everything’. this boi cuteee!
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“i’m not sure about this”, he hesitates. but his eyes tell a different story - a story of want and need. the prefect emblem on his chest reflects the moonlight in a reminding way.
“well, i’m very sure about this”, you whisper against his mouth.
there’s something about this - sneaking off from prefect’s parol duty to enroll in other, more exciting… activities. it makes him nervous, on edge. it drives you crazy.
he’s beautiful. in the moonlight, his face matches his hair with red. lips warm and inviting, hands itching to touch, touch, touch. hair slightly curled from the summer air. skin covered with freckles donated by the sun. he’s beautiful.
his hands move to adjust his glasses. oh, god, his hands.
“you have never looked better than you do right now.” your index finger moves across his chest in a flirting manner.
glasses are adjusted again, a broad smile threatening to break out on his lips. he points a finger warningly at you. “i know what you’re doing.”
he detangles from you, his feet shuffling in a nervous way. “you’re trying to… to flirt your way into… something.”
you laugh at ‘something’. you both very well know what something is. the way the red on his face intensifies when he even mentions the thought is... magical to you.
before he can object, you manage to place a quick kiss next to his mouth. his hands grab hold of you. he finally relaxes, almost melts into you. he finally catches you in a breathtaking kiss. after a while, he pulls away to say, “fine, you win. but only because you’re just too goddamned… kissable.”
he moves to place wet imprints on your neck. you don’t know what to do with yourself, you grab at whatever part of him just to feel him closer, closer, closer.
between breaths, “you’re pretty damn kissable too, you know.”
“yeah?” you know from the way his voice moves that his pride will soon be above his sticky-up curls.
you love it. you love him. “absolutely.”
“then maybe we should just... keep kissing.”
“absolutely.”
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Can you do a George Weasley blurb of his girlfriend visiting the burrow during the summer and he crashes Ginny’s room where his girlfriend is staying ruining their girls night because he missed her after being apart?
freckles and smiles
29/5/20
note: this turned out quite differently, but it’s a something and that’s a fine. reader is head deep in love with georgie, but who isn’t?
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---
he catches you alone for just a moment. in the narrow halls of the burrow, with little space for any larger personal integrity. your arms are clasped around a laundry basket, forcing him to keep his distance.
“hi, there.” he’s all freckles and smiles. summer really serves him well - all the quidditch matches, the helping around the house, the summer sun. it all results in gleaming eyes and broad shoulders.
you’re caught unaware, “hello.”
he tries to plant a kiss on your lip, but can only reach to the soft beneath your eye. “i feel like i never see you.”
“you do see me, all the time.”
breakfast, lunch, dinner. the general work around the house, the picnics. maybe not all the time, but some of it.
“it’s not enough. i wanna see you every second of every day.”
“that’s sweet...” breath in, breath out. you’re falling fast and hard for this scrangly, red-coloured boy. catch yourself, woman. “but i have chores to do.”
“it’s summer! you have all the time in the world to do anything.”
anything?
“anything?”
“anything!”
his eyes are decorated with possibility. his face falls into a soft look. like there isn’t a war on the horizon, like you’re just two teenagers falling in love.
you reach up to kiss him. properly this time. then you grab hold of your laundry basket. “see you around, weasley.”
he’s red, and a little shy of what he wants. he’s perfect, you think.
he laughs, and it sounds like a symphony. “yeah, see you around, (y/l/n).”
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Would you write a George Weasley blurb of him trying to get his girlfriend to sleep (just sleep) in his and Fred’s room when she’s over for the summer?
bed bugs
29/5/20
note: this turned out more of an exploration of feeling.
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---
you’re unsure of what you’re doing. sitting in the narrow hallway of the burrow. you felt like a toddler, with your pillow clutched in your right hand, dressed only in your night clothes.
there was something about this night. about the way the full moon stared down at you, and the way the stars wouldn’t stop observing you. as if the terrestrial bodies were somehow spies, finding out more and more about you. it was unnerving, to say the least.
you knew where you were going. but you didn’t know if you had the courage to go there. this slender hallway seemed to fit your mind perfectly at the moment. why move?
“... love?” an almost awake voice reached you. “what are you doing out here?”
“i…”, you feel awfully foolish now. “i couldn’t sleep.”
he looks at you for a few seconds. crouching down, his hands meet yours. he drags you upwards together with him, “come on.”
“you’ll have to be quiet, i think fred’s asleep by now.”
you nod, following him through the corners and nooks of the weasley’s wonderful house. his hand is warm, a stark contrast to your regretfully cold ones.
he stops walking, and you almost crash into him at the sudden lack of movement. he gives you a toothy grin as he opens the door. “be my guest.”
you begin to feel so tired. fatigue has been settling into your bones for a while now, but it’s been a long time since you’ve felt it like this. as you rest your head on his pillow, nose full of his smell - warmth, resin and some kind of sweets - you finally relax. he settles in beside you, holding you. grounding you. keeping you awake just enough to not all into a darkness you cannot escape. “goodnight, dear.” a kiss is placed somewhere on the back of your head. “sleep tight. don’t let the bed bugs bite.”
he laugh through his last statement, a sound to keep you intoxicated for hours. you smile, until sleep finally lets you into its guarded nest.
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What about something where they are laying in bed and the reader is touching his face and tracing his scars, hands through his hair and like counts his freckles or kisses his nose etc just a very sweet moment
worst cook in all of britain
08.01.20
note: turned out to be more of a,, living-with-the-marauders-scenario. but enjoy some sirius n james!!
---
“... ten, eleven, twelve...”
he’s nudged into alertness by her voice.
“... sixteen, seventeen, eighteen...”
“... what are doing?”
“shh. i’m concentrating.” she traces her finger across random spots on his face.
soon, he realises, “are you counting my freckles?”
“... twenty, twenty-one... yeah!”
she’s been awake for quite some time, he quietly realises. her wandering hands, the restlessness in her eyes. surely woken by nightmares or memories, now desperate to fill her mind with something else.
“... twenty-three-”
“-you missed twenty-two-”
“i did not!”
he takes her hands, placing a kiss on each. “yes, dear, you did.”
she smiles softly. “you are the best of my life.”
he scoffs jokingly, “don’t insult me.”
she kisses him, “you really are.”
“same thing could be said about you.”
“i lov-”
the moment is spoiled - no, put on hold - as a grinning sirius black barges in. “hey, love birds! james is making pancakes for breakfast.
“... why?”
“yeah, why? he’s the worst cook in all of britain.”
“exactly! but he won’t listen to me, so now i’m begging you to convince him not to.”
“... we’ll be right down.”
#remus lupin x reader#young!remus lupin x reader#sirius black#james potter#the marauders#imagine#ivoryblurbs
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Older Remus Lupin pleaseee
marry me on a sunday morning
1/6/20
note: this did my heart good. enjoy a blushing reader and a charmingly confident remus.
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---
the morning is one of the blissful kind. sun pouring into his small kitchen, casting dramatic shadows on across his beautiful features.
his eyelashes seem almost closed, as he’s scurrying the morning papers for job advertisements. eyes seem to get stuck on an advertisement announcing mr and mrs smith’s wedding ceremony.
eyebrows draw together, he hurls himself out. “what’s your opinion on marriage?”
you almost choke on the mouthful of tea you just recently swallowed. your mind instantly goes haywire. “is this a trick question?”
“no. it’s a treat question.”
you can’t believe him. “did you just hit me with a ‘trick or treat’ halloween joke… in june?”
he grins. “yes. with the confidence of a jack-o-lantern.”
“you’re ridiculous, i can’t believe i’m in love with you.”
“so you are in love with me.” it’s a statement. and it’s ridiculously true.
heart beats just a little bit faster. “i thought that’d be more obvious, seeing as we’ve been dating for…”
“two years, three months and two days?”
you’re caught unaware. “really?”
“no, i just made that up.” he’s in a joking mood this beautiful sunday morning. “but for about two years?”
it’s been so long. you can’t think of a time when you didn’t wake up to him putting the kettle on for a cup of tea, there isn’t a morning without his kisses and love.
“yeah, that seems about right. i asked you out after james’ birthday-”
“james birthday party! i remember.” he smiles to light up the room. his pen circles an ad, ever so casual. “now that we seem to be on the same page, could you answer my question?”
“wait, were you proposing to me?”
“no. godric, no.”
ouch. “yeah, i wouldn’t want to marry me either.”
he laughs, he can’t stop himself. he grabs your hand across the table, to place a solemn kiss upon it. “i do want to marry you. very much.”
you turn into an array of blushing pink delights. something real is unlocked, no longer hidden away behind jokes and laughs. “i… i don’t know what to say.”
your left hand is enclosed in his. his thumb gently brushes over yours. “you don’t have to say anything. i just want you to know that someday, i will propose to you.”
your cheeks have yet to recover. “okay.”
another kiss pressed to your hands, “and i hope with all of my heart that you’ll say yes.”
you smile to yourself, large roses blooming onto your cheeks. sunday mornings were always your favourite.
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I love your blurb! If you’re not sick of writing for George Weasley would you write a fluff blurb of he and his wife being woken up by their toddler who had a nightmare? Thank you in advance!
little family
3/6/20
note: it’s a short one. also what are children?
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---
a cry creates ripples in the so far night.
your loving husband lets groans, as he becomes more awake with each second. you’re just about to rise from your devastatingly comfortable place in your shared bed, when a hand grabs yours. suddenly you’re pushed down, back into the soft pillows.
“don’t worry, i’ll get it.”
you’re already too awake to fall asleep again. in a state between dreams and reality, you hear your husbands loving words in the other room.
“what’s up, buddy?”
blubbering words about nightmares and monsters under the bed. a tired two year old, with just enough words to tell how truly terrifying his dreams were.
“you know they’re not real?”
more tumbling words.
“come on…”
soon, two bodies tumble down on the mattress beside you. your loving child in the arms of your loving husband, both blissfully asleep within a minute.
your hand reaches across the vast expanse of softness to feel the hand of your husband. your tired mouth morphs into a smile, for your little loving family.
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Hi, can i please request remus x reader soulmate au? One where you get the same bruises/injuries as your soulmate. So remus goes through a pretty rough full moon and the reader looks pretty battered up, and remus thinks that he hurt the reader whilst being a werewolf. But then they find out it’s actually cuz they’re soulmates. Tysm
frozen peas
2/6/20
note: this took a spin and is nothing of what the request stated, but sometimes that happens.
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--
a loud wham echoed through the small kitchen of remus and sirius’ shared flat.
“bloody fuck!” quickly followed.
“what happened?” a morning-after sirius appeared, resurrected from him bed with tangles and a sour expression.
remus was busy holding his head in pain, trying to turn his tears into swear words. “i hit my bloody head on the bloody side of the bloody cupboard, fuck!”
all he got was a yawn. “you kiss your mother with that mouth?”
“not anymore. her and dad have gone into hiding since a month ago.” remus mumbled, a bitter tinge lacing his words.
sirius looked at him. “i’m sorry. i blame my assery on the fact that it’s seven in the morning.”
“don’t worry about it.”
“sure. but you should worry about the bright red traffic light on your head.”
“is it really that bad?” remus stared to search the freezer for something to soothe his wounds. disturbed, he moved two horrifyingly outdated ice cream cartons aside.
his dark-haired friend nodded, eyes starting to clear as his mind woke up more for each second. “even worse. and why’re you wearing your fancy jacket?”
remus finally settled for a frozen packet of green peas. his eyes fell closed in relief as he pressed the cold against his aching forehead. “job interview. i’m already late, i don’t have time for this.”
his friend waved at him from the pitiful coffee machine in the kitchen corner. “good luck, mate. and buy some toast when you’re at it!”
remus was already out the door.
---
the waiting room was smaller than he’d imagined. he’d imagined something along the lines of light and filled with opportunity, but he’s sitting on a slightly too low chair in a small room with orange walls. the stark colour struck a dangerous warning light in his head. the frozen peas were no longer frozen, and were now sagging dangerously in its plastic wrapping.
remus felt that his fancy jacket, with its missing button and brown corduroy, maybe wasn’t doing what it was originally meant to be. he didn’t feel fancy - more like rather pathetic, with his soggy peas and missing button.
a door room opened, and a girl walked out. remus was at once caught up with her. not only her appearance, but rather the fact that she too was sporting a packet of something frozen against her head.
“mr. thomas?” a voice called. a brown haired man sporting a nervous look answered.
the girl smiled sweetly once she saw remus, “did you also have bad luck this morning?”
he had to make sure his mouth isn’t hanging open like that of a dead fish. “yeah, you can safely say that.”
“so, what’s your poison?” she winked at him, he didn’t know what to think. her eyes moved towards his peas. “frozen peas. classic.”
her hand was still holding a frozen pack to her head. “i went for frozen mango, just to make the day a little more interesting.”
remus finally found his words. “has it been?”
“beg your pardon?”
he coughed once, twice. “has it been an interesting day so far?”
“i don’t know. i guess i’m about to find out.”
they watched each other’s scabs and scars. they’re pretty much identical. even each little freckle on one has a match on the other. “you seem like you have had quite a lot of interesting mornings.”
“the same thing can be said about you.”
remus forgot himself for a moment.
“sorry!” a hand reached forward. “i’m remus. lupin.”
“pleasure. i’m (y/n) (y/l/n).”
“i’m sorry, but how did you get all your bruise-”
the door opened again. “mr. lupin?”
her eyes longed to look at him for days, “i’ll wait for you.”
he bursts into a smile, “thank you.”
she reaches out to him, “i can hold on to your peas.”
a laugh, “thank you. i’ll see you in a minute.”
“hmh. and yes.”
“what?”
“this will be an interesting morning.”
#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin#young!remus lupin x reader#young!remus lupin#ivoryblurbs#requested
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Okay i have an idea . After reading a bunch of your older imagines i had this idea for a remus x reader based on the song “when the day met the night” by panic at the disco
when the moon fell in love with the sun
1/6/20
note: this reminds me of ye olde oneshot ‘the time the moon fell in love with the stars’. enjoy a rly rly in love remus, being as lovely as ever.
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---
to her, he is the sun.
you would think that with his preposition, he easily fits with the cold, uncaring reflection of the moon. perhaps that was how the rest of the world saw him: cold, untouchable, intimidating. but not to her. never to her. to her, he shines brighter than any star.
she curls up closer to him.
“what’s this for?” he says between laughs.
“i’m cold. and you’re so goddamned warm. and lovely.”
lovely. he becomes a bouquet of bright, blushing peonies. she’s entirely enchanted by the way his freckles stand out against his red-flushed skin.
“... and you also smell really good.”
“i’m-... okay. thanks?”
he doesn't know what to say, what to do. this doesn’t happen to him. not to awkward, freckled remus lupin. never in a million years.
“i want to meet you every day of every summer.” she whispers after a long night, sleep having taken the best of her rime and reason.
and still, it does. and it keeps happening. and there are promises of it to keep happening for years and years. he doesn’t know what to say.
“yeah. me too.”
---
light peeks through the blinds of her large bedroom window. his right arm is trapped underneath her, she sleeps peacefully beside him. it looks like she’s glowing, as her skin reflects the bright of the sun.
he doesn’t know how to describe her. what is she? she’s a girl. a girl who seems to like him - perhaps even love him, based on last night’s events.
and what is he? a boy, far too in love to even know it.
to him, she is the moon. guiding him through the dark nights, easily pressing kisses on barely closed wounds. he knows nothing more. he knows he can make her laugh by the movement of one eyebrow, by a quick comment or a smile. he knows the sound of that laugh allows something inside him to grow and set trustworthy roots.
“i’ll see you tomorrow. and the day after that. and the day after that…” he’s learning to find the right words to match this feeling in his heart.
“don’t forget the day after that. and, by all means, don’t forget the night after that”, she has him red-flushed all over again.
all was golden in the sky, when the day met the night.
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something cute with enjolras please? they aren't a couple, but people know he likes her or something? i love your writing so much!! 💫
“you love it”
07.01.20
note: good to be back n writing abt my revolutionary boy again!
---
they weren’t an item.
they didn’t go on dates.
they simply met, on mostly unplanned occasions. perhaps a larger force had great plans for them. if that was the case, life or fate or whatever could’ve at least sent a text about it beforehand. that was not the case for enjolras and his dear friend.
“didn’t know you’d be here.”
“didn’t know myself, until a few minutes ago.”
“if i’d known, i wouldn’t have showed up.”
“...”
“see you outside in ten minutes.” the wink her words is overly suggestive. the
“fifteen. i have to wrap this up first.”
“... fine. but i’ll glare at you from the corner.”
“wouldn’t want you anywhere else.”
“how about in your bed? tonight?”
“...now you’re just being ridiculous.”
“you love it.”
it’s a game. a simple joke between the two of them. or, it was. when it started, it was only in jest. the comments. the looks. the flirting. and then, long after it had become an established way of communication, it started to mean something more. to enjolras, at least. he started to almost rely on those sly remarks from her, started to dream about what would happen if they actually found themselves in each other’s bed. together.
the thought makes him blush.
“yeah. i love it.”
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Could you write a Remus Lupin blurb of him falling for the American transfer to Hogwarts during their 4th year?
hersey’s kiss
2/6/20
note: we’ve all seen this too many times. but here it is again.
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---
the wind pulls at the colourful scarf around her neck. she points at something, “what’s that?”
“this, my dear”, he takes her hand, “is a pavement.”
“shut your stupid mouth, i know what a sidewalk is.”
he’s come to look forward to her rather rude outbursts.
“... i meant the shop.”
“what shop?” he teases her. “oh, do you mean the store?”
“obviously not. are all brits this annoying?”
he grins, “nope. just me.”
she squeezes his hand a little too tight. “good to know.”
“it’s honeydukes. come on.” he drags her across the windy night, towards the bright lights of the candy store.
---
honeydukes is filled to the brim with colours. chocolate frogs, bertie bott’s beans, candy canes, lemon drops. an explosion of shades and sugar in this dim winter night. they’re both caught outside, huddled up together in an attempt to escape the cold. or so they’ll both answer, if anyone wonders.
she leans in closer, “would you like a kiss?”
remus’ faces burst into reds and pinks. “i wouldn’t mind one.”
“here you go”, she lays a handful of chocolate hersey’s kisses in his hand.
his insides turn into thorns, pricking the lining of his body. “very funny.”
she must’ve caught the hopeful look on his face, to see it disappear and turn into wrinkled eyebrows and pressed together lips. “don’t look so down! here…”
she kisses him. it’s quick. another moment passed on to eternity. she tastes of chocolate to him. like a hersey’s kiss.
he finds his confidence again, “how about one more?”
she still tastes like chocolate.
#remus lupin x reader#remus lupin#young!remus lupin x reader#young!remus lupin#ivoryblurbs#requested
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Remus ‘ gf organize a picnic date and Remus confesses his love to her!
pretty sure
07.01.20
note: thank you for requestiiing!! 💕🌱
---
his eyes light up at the sight of her.
she rushes up to him, offering him a quick hug and a smile. “hyde park, today, five o’clock”, then she’s off to some other adventure.
he arrives at 16:58. she’s already there, waiting for him on the green grass. “hey there, stranger!” her cheery shouts attract the attention of the few passing by pedestrians. she doesn’t mind.
remus makes his way up to her, spotting the grocery bag beside her. “since when do you shop at tesco’s?”
“since there’re no other supermarket within two miles.”
he laughs shortly, sitting down beside her.
she reaches into the bag, “i bought wine.”
“real wine? which colour?”
“a non-distinguishable one. it was their cheapest - i’m not made of money. but real none the less.”
they watch the sun almost set, only to get stuck in the purple summer sky. her hair gets tangled in his hands, his voice gets stuck in the twists and turns of her brilliant mind.
“i’m pretty sure i love you.” the words are out before he has a chance to think.
“only ‘pretty’ sure?”
their eyes meet. he’s over-whelmed by her gaze.
“nah. more like super-duper-incredibly-super sure.”
“that’s better.”
“what?”
“just come here and kiss me.”
he gladly obliges.
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I saw your requests are open and I’m so excited!! If you feel like it, I’d love anything with either twin. I have nothing too specific in mind but I’ve been bed ridden for a few weeks because I broke my ankle so maybe some fluff? Idk 🙈
armchair
26/5/20
note: took it a bit out of my comfort zone and wrote for darling fred. enjoy!
masterlist / blurb masterlist / request a blurb!
---
“why did i agree to this?”
“that’s an excellent question. but totally irrelevant, since you’ve already agreed.” she gave him a smile to cheer up. it was inefficient.
fred threw his hands into the air, an attempt to convey his deep anguish about the situation.
before him stood an armchair. it was impossible to tell which colour it originally had been. at the moment, it rocked a worrying greenish brown. there was some sort of floral pattern involved, but whether or not it had been there from the beginning was a mystery. covered with stains and bruises, it was a sore sight.
fred looked at it with pain in his eyes. “love”, with the softest of voices, “do we really need this armchair? couldn’t we just pick a nicer one up from the thrift store?”
“i’m surprised you know what thrift stores are.”
“and i’m surprised you’re not dying with excitement to visiting one right now.”
“we’re all dying, freddie.”
“ever the sunshine...”
she moved closer to him. one hand finding the lapel of his jacket, the other softly brushing the dawning stubble on his cheek. fred’s eyes lit up at the hope of something. her lips touched right below his. “enough talking. let’s get this beauty inside.”
“it’s only an armchair.”
“it’s so much more than an armchair.”
“...fine.”
“fine?”
fred took the surprised on her face as an opportunity to press a quick kiss onto her lips. “fine. come on, if we flip it we might just be able to fit it through the front door.”
---
the evening was drawing late. fred and his dearest were starting to settle into the small flat they’d dreamed of for so long. cardboard boxes surrounded them, the heating took hours to turn on, the kitchen was in shambles. they’d never been happier.
fred found himself pushed into the old armchair, give or take a few kisses.
“i love you. i love you.” hands reached around the other.
“i know.” a few bites.
“i love you.”
“i love you.”
he stopped for a moment. her eyes searched his, waiting.
he smiled, and between kisses: “you know, i’m actually starting to like this armchair.”
#fred weasley x reader#fred weasley imagine#fred weasley#george weasley x reader#george weasley#ivoryblurbs#requested
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