jealous

request from anon: Hi! I’d like to request jealous George, maybe even a bit of anger in there…..he gets upset when another boy asks his pretty friend out on a date who he’s been crushing on for a while, and they’re basically dating because they flirt all the time and its so obvious but he hasn’t technically asked her out yet??

word count: 659

A/N: yo i fucking live for jealous george weasley i love this

tag list: @mintlibri @georgeweasleyx @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @perksofbeingawf @darling-details @laneygthememequeen @lupinsx @keoghans | message me if you’d like to be added babes 😘

“What the bloody hell was that about?”

You turned and glanced at a very flustered George Weasley, surprised to hear the disdain in his voice. You merely peered at him quizzically.

“What’re you on about?”

“That Ravenclaw bloke,” George replied, running a hand through his hair angrily and walking closer to you as you placed your quill down on top of your parchment. Thank goodness the common room was empty— “why did you agree to a date with him?”

You blinked. “I dunno, George.. I’m a single woman and he asked me out, so I figured I could take a chance and say yes—unless you know someone else—” his laugh had a twinge of annoyance to it, “who was planning on doing the same?” You had him now.

He threw himself into the chair next to you and scoffed, “You know full well I don’t need to answer that.”

“Don’t you, though?”

If anything, the flirting had been consistent. So much so, in fact, it seemed as though everyone in the entire bloody school seemed to think you two were dating. Except, you weren’t.

Not technically, anyway.

George softened a bit. “I thought—what is this?”

“What d’you mean?” you asked sweetly, looking back down at your parchment, hellbent on teasing him into oblivion.

He sucked in a breath. “You know what I mean, Y/N—”

“I dunno,” you replied, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “does what we do together really count as a relationship?”

You watched as his jaw tightened. He was getting more and more frustrated, which was exactly where you wanted him. He unclenched his fist and retreated. He was a mess. Running a hand through his hair again, he told you, “You know I want you—you’ve always known it. And unless I’m barking mad, I know you want me, too.”

You swallowed over a lump in your throat. Ugh. You were doing so well—so well at keeping him flustered, frustrated, finally having the upper hand in your conversation, but now, here you were—a puddle on the floor in front of him, taking in that annoying half smirk he always did to get your attention.

You shook your hand in defiance when he said, “You can deny it all you want, Y/N,”

“Would you please stop rolling up your shirt sleeves?” you asked him, becoming just as flustered as he had been when he walked in. You felt your cheeks go rosy as he continued to push them up to his elbows, “it’s terribly distracting.”

You turned back towards your parchment and dipped your quill in your ink, and George’s lingering eyes must’ve been burning holes straight through your robes. Your face was surely bright red now.

“Don’t go out with that prat,”

You turned back towards him and saw a sparkle in his eye. You watched him and slowly raised an eyebrow. You were going to get him to do it—the proper way. “Why not?”

“Go out with me instead.”

You put down your quill, doing your best to force down a smile. Finally. But, maybe making him work a little extra could be fun. “What makes you think—”

And he took your face in his hands and pressed his lips to yours in a searing kiss, not waiting for you to finish whatever you were about to say. And truthfully, you’d forgotten, because all you could focus on was the way his thumb felt brushing your cheek, the way his soft hair felt beneath your fingertips—

“Well, you’re definitely barking mad,” you said breathlessly, breaking from him, “but I guess I’ll give it to you—you were right about one thing.”

He smirked again. “What’s that?”

That poor Ravenclaw boy. You grabbed the collar of George’s shirt and pulled him close, nearly knocking everything off of the desk in front of you. His lips formed into a smile against yours when you told him, truthfully this time, “That I want you, Weasley.”

reblogs & feedback are always appreciated, thanks lovelies ☺️