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BALL GAME — J.POTTER

James makes the most of being your favourite person to convince you out of the castle and into the lake.

cw — james picks the reader up at one point

james potter x fem!reader || fluff || 1.3k || requests open!

a/n: best friend james has my whole entire heart i fear

Sometimes James is half convinced you’re a vampire, that your skin is so delicate that even a pinprick of sunlight will burn you into a pile of ash.

If it weren’t for your ostentatious love of the summer season—and the privilege James has as your best friend—he’d be surprised you even agreed to his request at all.

Yet there you were, sat pretty underneath the shade of one of the small willow trees lining the water with a book in your lap and a picnic blanket separating you from the grass.

Dazed and Devoted - George Weasley

summary: George gets knocked out during Quidditch practice. When he wakes up, confused and concussed, he flirts with his girlfriend like he’s never met her before. And honestly? It’s kind of adorable.

warnings: none!

Word Count: 1.5k

Fred and George were showing off, as usual, turning every drill into a competition. You were perched in the stands, legs swinging off the edge as you watched George zip around the pitch like he hadn’t a care in the world. You’d told him earlier to please not die today, and he had given you a wink and said, “No promises, love.”

Typical.

Oliver was barking out orders below while Katie and Alicia ran plays overhead, but your eyes stayed on George. He always looked so alive on a broom, golden in the sunlight, wind-tossed hair everywhere, laughing like there was nothing else in the world to worry about.

And then—just like that—it changed.

One moment he was banking left to avoid a Bludger, and the next—

WHAM.

Bludger to the head. Clean hit.

You heard the thud before you saw it. George spun midair like a ragdoll, his broom zigzagging before he tumbled off and hit the grass with a dull, sickening sound.

“GEORGE!” you screamed, dropping your notes and sprinting from the stands before Madam Hooch could even react.

By the time you reached him, he was flat on his back, eyes half-lidded, a crooked smile on his face like he had just had the best dream of his life. He blinked up at you slowly.

“Hi,” he said, voice drowsy and slurred. “Are you an angel?”

“George—Merlin, George, are you alright?” you asked, dropping to your knees beside him, brushing back his hair to check for blood. “Fred! Someone get Madam Pomfrey!”

He blinked again. “Whoa. You’re really pretty.”

You froze, eyes narrowing. “Okay, yeah. He’s definitely concussed.”

George propped himself up slightly on his elbows and squinted at you, like he was seeing you for the first time. “Hey… hey, uh, do you have a boyfriend?”

You stared at him. “Seriously?”

He grinned goofily. “Because if not, I’m available. Just saying.”

You bit back a laugh. “George, I am your girlfriend.”

His face lit up like a Christmas tree. “No way. For real?”

“For real.”

He pumped a lazy fist into the air. “Hell yeah.”

Fred, who had just run over, nearly tripped over himself laughing. “He’s either dying or just scored the best news of his life.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t help the smile tugging at your lips. “Both, apparently.”

George reached up and gently patted your face, missing your cheek and hitting your chin instead. “You’re so soft. Have I told you you’re soft?”

“You’ve told me lots of things, love. Most of them nonsense.”

“Bet I said them real smooth though.”

Fred muttered, “He flirts better concussed than I do fully functioning,” earning a glare from you.

Madam Pomfrey finally arrived, puffing and muttering under her breath. “Step back, step back, what did he do this time—bloody Weasley twins—”

“He caught a Bludger with his skull,” you said flatly.

“Coolest catch I’ve ever done,” George mumbled.

You brushed his hair back again gently, watching as Pomfrey waved her wand over his head and began muttering incantations. “You’re going to be okay. Just… try not to flirt with anyone else on the way to the Hospital Wing.”

George’s eyes fluttered closed briefly, then opened again, still dazed. “Wouldn’t dream of it. Got the prettiest girl right here.”

“Sweet-talker,” you said quietly, cheeks warm.

He smiled at you, soft and crooked. “Still can’t believe you’re my girlfriend. That’s like, winning the Triwizard Tournament but without the dragons.”

Fred piped up. “You do realize you’re gonna have to live this all down when you’re healed, yeah?”

George didn’t miss a beat. “Worth it.”

Pomfrey sighed. “Someone help me levitate this lovestruck idiot to the Wing before he starts serenading her.”

You stood up, still grinning as George kept his eyes locked on you, even while floating in mid-air. He reached out lazily, fingers wiggling in your direction. “I love you, random pretty girl.”

You leaned close and kissed his forehead. “Still your girlfriend, dork.”

He beamed, all bruised and dizzy and delighted. “Hell yeah.”

masterlist requests are open!

☆ george weasley x reader

☆ word count: 642

☆ warnings: nothing, just fluff!

In which George Weasley doesn't have the patience for making pancakes the muggle way.

"It says here we need to crack three eggs." You furrowed your brows, trying to decipher your mother's handwriting. You had been spending the summer holidays living at the Burrow with your boyfriend George, and decided to surprise the Weasleys with your favorite homemade pancakes.

"I just don't see why we can't do this the normal way," your boyfriend whined next to you, trying his best to crack an egg over the bowl without letting any eggshells fall in. You couldn't help suppress a laugh when you saw half of the eggshell swimming around in the batter. The truth was you could have used magic to make these pancakes in a matter of seconds, but seeing George struggle and complain about the most basic tasks brought you inexplicable joy. He looked so adorable with his cheeks puffed out in concentration and his hair a frazzled mess from running his hand through it in frustration.

"This is the normal way, my love." You gave him a peck on the cheeks, hoping to motivate him. Sighing, he fished out the eggshells from the bowl and grimaced at the slimy feeling on his fingers.

"Now, I just need to find a medium-sized pan," you looked around, trying to see through the clutter of pots and pans lying around the kitchen. "You just keep stirring the batter until it's perfectly smooth, Georgie."

George grabbed the whisk and looked over at you. He found it endearing how you were wearing his shorts, which were folded over multiple times to stop them from falling down. Stuck in admiration for you, he forgot all about the instructions you told him. He looked to the batter and then back to you. Seizing the opportunity of you being distracted by searching for the right pan, he pulled out his wand from his back pocket. With a quick flick of his wand, the batter became smooth, not a single lump floating around. Hurriedly he hid his wand as you approached him, pan in hand.

You gasped; the batter was perfect and had the exact color and consistency you remembered from your childhood.

"Oh, Georgie," you grabbed his face and planted hundreds of tiny kisses all over, "it's perfect!"

A very red George Weasley scratched his head, flustered by the unexpected morning affection, but a pang of guilt stirred in his chest. You poured the batter onto the pan and watched it turn into the most perfect golden brown pancakes. You were jumping up and down, happy that you both managed to make pancakes the muggle way without any errors, but your boyfriend did not seem to share the same enthusiasm. Looking closely at his expression, you could see that he looked like a child who knew he did something wrong. When George took the plates with over to the table, you saw something poking out from under his shirt.

"George Weasley"—you never used his full name unless you were about to scold him, and something about your tone made him freeze in his spot.

"You used magic, didn't you?"

"No," he slowly turned to face you, guilt written all over his face.

"You are a terrible liar."

"A terribly cute one, at least?"

Typical of George to throw in a joke at the most inappropriate time. However, you did admire his ability to make light of any situation, and you tried your best to hide your smile. He slowly made his way towards you, a sheepish grin on his face.

"I'm really disappointed," you mumbled, although you did not sound like you meant it. The way he was holding your waist, pressing you so close against his chest made you forget all about your disappointment. His nose rubbed against yours, and with the faintest whisper he replied,

could I maybe, potentially, if you don’t mind, request mae rambles with any of the marauders x chatterbox!reader who might ramble a bit too much (v self indulgent I was just told „do you ever shut up“ at a party last night lol)

totally fine if you don’t feel like doing it! thank you for writing and sharing with us!!

Jesus who says that to someone! Massively uncool on their end, I'm positive you weren't as chattery as they were just in a bad mood lovely. Doing this with Sirius!

he's not always the best listener. it's not his fault !!! you're too pretty, how is he supposed to keep up with your story when he's so busy staring at you with hearts in his eyes

that said, he does generally pay attention and loooooves gossip, so whenever you're bringing that home he's all ears

he can be a chatterbox too, which may be kind of a lot for some people you're around, but the two of you kind of get in your own little bubble of bouncing off each other

when james is around? poor remus just has to sit back and watch

even when he's not in the mood to talk back at you, hearing you talk becomes a sort of comfort for him, like he's content to just sit there and listen to you for hours