'Did You Think I Would Have Dark Hair?'

babygirl is struggling

Midoriya: Kacchan, we all know you're in love.

Bakugou: I'm not in love with Y/n, shut up.

Shoto: We never said who.

Bakugou:

Bakugou: Shit, okay, hold on, JUST LISTEN—

girls when they can’t find fanfics about the character they’re currently obsessed with :

(it’s me, i’m girls. i’ve already read them all)

me seeing that my fav character barely/doesn’t have any fanfics OR imagines

This relationship would have prevented war. Fight me

Harry Collet (Jacaerys) being N°1 Jacelaena shipper!

Your prayers matter. God is listening. Keep praying.

When a fanfic writer puts a nickname you think Is icky in their smut fic

God’s got my back.

# FIRST LOVE, ㅤㅤ FRED WEASLEY

ㅤㅤ★ PROMPT !

× "She fell in love first, he fell harder."

ㅤㅤ★ WARNINGS !

× None.

ㅤㅤ★ NOTES !

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word count: 2.2k

The first time you realized you liked Fred Weasley, you were fourteen.

It was a fleeting moment, in the middle of a casual conversation in the Gryffindor common room. He threw his head back, laughing at some silly joke his brother had told, his eyes shining under the firelight. And that was when it happened. Something in your chest tightened slightly, a cold sensation filled your stomach, and suddenly, Fred Weasley wasn’t just a mischievous friend with whom you shared classes and pranks. He was someone who made your heart beat differently.

But Fred was… well, Fred. He flirted with everyone, threw careless winks at girls in the hallway, and pulled pranks that left professors on the verge of a breakdown. He didn’t see you that way. At least, that’s what you told yourself every time you saw him sprawled on the Gryffindor couch, his arm lazily draped over the shoulders of some other girl.

So, you buried the feeling. Moved on—or at least tried to.

But Fred fell in love later.

It was at the beginning of fifth year that he realized it. At first, it was subtle, almost imperceptible. Small details he ignored or attributed to coincidence. Like the fact that your eyes always seemed to find his first in the Great Hall. Or how he missed your laughter on days when you didn’t spend as much time together.

But then came the moment that really hit him—the one that knocked the air from his lungs and made his stomach twist.

You were in the courtyard, sitting with your friends, and someone cracked a joke. He laughed, of course. But then he looked to the side and saw you laughing too. And it wasn’t just any laugh. You tilted your head back slightly, your eyes shining, your shoulders relaxed. A light and genuine sound, carefree. Something inside him clenched. Hard.

And in that instant, he knew.

You were no longer just the friend he joked around with and talked to without a care. You were the girl he searched for in a crowd without even realizing it. The one who made his heart race when you smiled that certain way, in a way only he seemed to notice.

And that’s when fear set in.

Fred Weasley was never afraid. He faced teachers, rules, even magical creatures with a grin on his face and a wild plan in his head. But when it came to you, he had no idea what to do. Because what would happen if he crossed that line and lost you?

So he hid it. Kept winking at other girls, kept telling jokes as if nothing had changed.

But it had.

George noticed before Fred could even admit it to himself.

“You’re screwed,” George casually commented one night while organizing products for their next prank.

Fred frowned. “What are you talking about?”

George chuckled, his gaze mischievous. “You, idiot. You stare at Y/N all day and don’t even realize it.”

Fred scoffed. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, but you do.” George tossed a Chocolate Frog at him. “The great Fred Weasley, feared by teachers, master of pranks… in love.”

“I’m not in love with Y/N, she’s my friend.”

George raised an eyebrow. “Oh? Then why do you scowl every time you see her talking to another guy?”

Fred opened his mouth to protest but found that he couldn’t.

George laughed even harder. “You’re absolutely screwed, mate.

Fred sighed, running a hand through his hair. He knew George was right. But admitting it out loud? That was another story.

And then came that night.

The tavern in Hogsmeade was lit by floating candles, the air filled with the scent of butterbeer and carefree laughter. It was one of those cold nights packed with teenagers, where nothing seemed to matter except the present moment. Students were scattered in groups, occupying tables and speaking loudly to be heard over the background music.

Fred was in the middle of the chaos, surrounded by George and their friends, immersed in the whirlwind of jokes and teasing that filled the room. The atmosphere was light, the typical Weasley energy mixed with their friends’ excitement. The game had started off playful—rounds of embarrassing questions, stupid bets, and dares that grew bolder with time. The classic truth or dare, which Fred loved. Until the next question came, cutting through the fun.

“Well, I’ll go with truth this time,” Fred said, trying to keep his tone relaxed, though his eyes gleamed with suspicion.

Angelina, with that mischievous smile he knew all too well, leaned forward slightly.

"Have you ever thought about kissing Y/N?" she asked, her voice laced with playful mischief.

The question hit Fred like a blast of cold air. He laughed—a knee-jerk reaction, almost instinctive. Laughing was his defense, his shield against anything that made him feel too much. And there, in front of everyone, it was easier to pretend nothing special was happening. He simply smiled, carefree, as he always did.

“She’s my friend, why would I?” he replied.

The answer came before he could think. Light, casual. As if it meant nothing. As if he wasn’t burying something deep inside his chest.

But then he saw you.

You were there. Close enough to hear.

For a second, he couldn’t quite read your expression. It wasn’t anger. Not even obvious sadness. It was something worse. It was silent acceptance.

It was the way you looked away, let out a quiet sigh, and returned to your conversation as if it didn’t matter. As if, in that moment, a part of you had given up waiting.

And that was when Fred realized he was screwed.

Because something inside him screamed in protest. Something in him wanted to run to you, to say it was a lie, that he only said it because he didn’t know how to admit the truth. But how could he? He had spent years pretending he felt nothing. Now, when he finally understood what he truly wanted, maybe it was too late.

And then he saw you with someone else.

Fred couldn’t explain why that moment hit him like a punch to the gut. Maybe it was the way you tilted your head back to laugh, your eyes shining with something genuine. Maybe it was because, for the first time, that laugh hadn’t been caused by him.

He was walking through the corridors of Hogwarts, surrounded by the usual noise of students going back and forth, when he saw you there. Leaning against a wall, arms crossed in a relaxed way, while some guy—a random guy, one that wasn’t him—said something that clearly amused you.

His heart clenched.

Maybe it was just a conversation. Maybe that smile of yours meant nothing beyond politeness. But, for the first time, Fred had to face a possibility he had never truly considered: that you might move on.

The first time you didn’t seek him out to talk about your day, he missed it. His eyes scanned the Great Hall, expecting you to appear at his side as usual, ready to share some silly story or complain about an impossible History of Magic assignment. But you didn’t come.

The first time you didn’t laugh at his jokes, he wanted to punch himself. He told one of those stupid jokes that always made you roll your eyes before laughing for real, but this time, your expression remained unreadable. And in that small instant, he realized he might have gone too far.

He loved you.

And it wasn’t just any love. It was a consuming love, one that burned in his chest and made his breath falter. A love that made him want to go back in time, undo every poorly chosen word, every laugh thrown into the wind as if nothing mattered. He wanted to go back to the exact moment he said you were just a friend and slap himself.

Because now he saw.

Now he understood.

The night at Hogwarts was steeped in mystery and a quiet melancholy. The sky, burdened with clouds, unleashed its fury in a symphony of cracks and rumbles, echoing against the glass windows and the castle’s cold stones. The wind cut through the narrow corridors, carrying with it the feeling that time, somehow, was running out.

Fred Weasley hurried up the dormitory stairs, his breath heavy and his mind racing. Each step felt heavier than the last, as if the words he needed to say were weighing down his chest, piling up until he could no longer bear the burden. The rain, now forming small streams along the steps, made him feel more alive, more aware of everything at stake. He knew he couldn’t wait any longer.

The door to his dormitory was just ahead, and with a near-desperate impulse, Fred knocked, his cold, trembling hands striking the solid wood with a firm and determined sound. One, two, three knocks—a rhythm that seemed to stretch into eternity. Inside his mind, echoes of doubt, the “what ifs” and “maybes,” tangled with the certainty that he had no more choices. He couldn’t turn back now.

There was a moment of deep silence, a second of absolute tension, where the fear that he might already be too late tried to creep in. But then the door opened, and there you were, eyes wide with surprise. Your hair was slightly tousled, the fatigue of the day mingling with the confused expression of someone who hadn’t expected a visit from someone so… caught in the storms of his own heart.

Fred stood there, drenched to the bone. His red hair stuck to his forehead, his shirt and rain-soaked cloak clinging to his body. But what stood out the most wasn’t his physical state—it was the look in his eyes. Something there was different. He wasn’t just standing in that hallway; he was deep inside himself, in a place only the purest and most sincere feeling could have led him to. And in those words, he could no longer hide what he felt.

“Fred?”

He took a step forward—there was no hesitation. He knew he needed to speak, to pour out everything he had kept inside for so long. His chest burned, but not with anger or frustration—with a tense, repressed love that was finally finding a way to be spoken. The words escaped in a rush, with no room for filters, no room for disguise.

“I was an idiot.” He took a deep breath, his eyes locking onto yours as if searching for a thread of hope to hold on to. “I took so long to realize… to see what was right in front of me this whole time.”

His voice was low, rough, marked by the intensity of his confession. He looked vulnerable, a little lost, as if, for the first time, he was truly seeing what had been around him all along.

“All the times I pretended everything was fine… that I didn’t care… all the times I lied to myself… They were lies.”

Rain streaked his face, but his gaze was clear—clear of any doubt. “I know now. I know that… I fell in love with you long before I even realized it. And if there’s still a chance… if you give me a chance, I will do everything I can to prove how real this is.”

The space between you felt smaller, drawn together by the weight of his words. And as he spoke, the words seemed to dissolve into the air, leaving everything clearer than ever. He wasn’t speaking just for himself anymore—he was speaking for both of you, for everything that could be, for all the things that had been hidden between you, waiting for a moment like this.

You stood there, motionless, your heart pounding in your chest. Your mind echoed with the sound of all those turbulent nights, the moments of pain, the frustration, and the challenges that had kept you apart. But now, facing Fred, his soul as exposed as yours, there was something else. A new feeling—something you didn’t yet know how to name—but it spread between you, filling the empty spaces.

There was hope.

Fred took a hesitant step forward, his eyes searching yours, almost pleading. His hand, cold from the rain, reached out for yours, as if trying to touch the only thing that truly mattered now—what existed between you. The gesture was simple but carried an immense longing, a vulnerability he had never shown before.

“Please,” he whispered, his voice barely a breath, “let me show you that I can be more than I was.”

You felt the weight of his words, the sincerity overflowing from them, and something inside you broke—an invisible barrier you had built around yourself. The love he had kept hidden, the words he was finally saying, all of it resonated deep within your soul. You had known from the beginning that something existed between you. But now, with words and feelings finally aligned, you couldn’t deny what had always been there.

With a soft smile, you reached out, your fingers barely touching his, your breathing slowing as if, finally, the two of you were breathing in the same rhythm. “I was waiting for you, Fred,” you whispered, your voice nearly breaking with emotion.

Fred smiled—a small, hesitant, but genuine smile, as if, at last, he had found his peace.

And then, your lips met. The rain still fell, the wind still howled through the stone corridors, but now, nothing else mattered. You were there, in the same space, in the same moment, finally understanding that what had always been inevitable… was happening.

You fell in love first.

But he fell harder.