Weasley Twins Oneshots & Imagines

Sunkissed (G.W.)

When he tapped you on the shoulder, very rudely interrupting your game of exploding snap with his sister and Hermione, you groaned in frustration. You whirled around, the sight of him sending you into a frenzy. You gulped over your nervousness; why is it, you thought, that you found yourself, time and time again, attracted to someone that was off limits. An absolute no-no. Definitely not allowed to happen, according to Ginny. You're not allowed to date any of my brothers, she'd said. You're my best mate! But that was years ago, back at the mere age of eleven. She couldn't possibly still feel that way now, could she? You suppressed the thought with a slight cough.

"Y/N," he began, his air of confidence engulfing the room fully, "come join us, would you?"

You tried your best to ignore the thin line of sweat at his hairline, the water-droplets of beady sweat attaching themselves to the fabric of his shirt; clearly, you weren't doing so well at suppressing your feelings, as adrenaline coursed through your veins like a rapid fire. Bloody hell, it was already one million degrees — you didn't need the sight of him alone getting you all hot and bothered.

"For what?" you asked George, trying very hard to not sound as excited as you felt.

"Quidditch," came Fred's voice, and he appeared next to you. He ran his hands through his hair. "Perfect day for it."

Ron and Harry appeared as well, looking positively dreadful. "The earth is on fire, mate — I'm not playing Quidditch in this weather,"

"Come on," the twins chorused together. Fred continued, "don't be so dramatic, Ronniekins. Besides — why not make it more interesting?"

You and Ginny peered up at the twin grinning cheekily to himself. To her older brother, Ginny inquired, "Interesting? How d'you mean?"

"Winner gets two galleons,"

Ron's eyes widened in delight alongside Harry's smile; Ginny immediately began tugging her long hair back into a ponytail, as Hermione went to fetch the brooms with Fred from the garden shed. Guess you were all about to play for some money.

"So," George started, taking you by surprise, "you coming or not?"

You stood, sizing him up; he was nearly a foot taller than you, easily better at Quidditch than you'd ever be, and yet — you felt this strange surge of confidence take you over. You pushed him gently on his chest and said, "Can't wait to kick your arse, Weasley."

"Oooh, confident, are we?" he teased, jabbing you in the ribs as you both headed out toward the field, the hot, sticky air attacking you as soon as you'd stepped out the door. He slammed a pair of sunglasses onto his face and suddenly you weren't feeling so confident anymore. You hated that. He just had this way about him. "We'll see who wins in the end, darling."

You were about to throw a rather rude suggestion his way, but you were a bit taken aback at the sight of him. You nearly choked on the air you were breathing in. Everything seemed to be moving in slow motion when he ripped his shirt off of his back, displaying his very toned torso and beater arms, and he winked at you before taking a place next to his twin, who was doing the exact same thing. Once more, George turned around and tossed his shirt in your direction; you were frozen solid, it nearly hit you, but landed gently at your feet. He laughed a bit haughtily at your flustered state before mounting his broom and soaring into the air, the piercing sun biting at his exposed skin.

"Y/N?" The sound of your name made you jump; you turned slightly to see Ginny standing there, hand on her hip, growing smirk plastered on her face. Shit. Her words from all those years ago echoed in the back of your head. You're my best mate! Guilt engulfed you, but you hadn't even done anything wrong. You regained your focus when she tossed the Quaffle at your head. "Ready to play, or not?"