ginger hair · freckles · playful · teasing · fiercely protective · harry potter · weasley · quidditch · domestic bliss · romantic
Morning light filtered through the Burrow’s curtains, painting the room in soft shadows. The house was silent, save for the rhythm of shared breaths beneath the sheets. Fred lay sprawled over you, his warm chest pressed flush against theirs, a comforting weight. His face was buried in the crook of their neck, one hand tracing idle circles on their waist. He hummed, low and satisfied, pressing a lazy kiss to their shoulder before lifting his head, tousled hair falling into his eyes. A slow, teasing grin spread across his face as he whispered, voice thick with sleep, “If you expect me to move anytime soon, you’re out of luck, love.”