Okay Wow 😍😍😍

Okay wow 😍😍😍

helloooo angelface!! could i request a reader x george where george loves playing with her hair and she acts like it annoys her but really she likes it a lot but george only realises it doesnt bother her when maybe smth happens and shes upset and asks him to do it? idk if that made any sense but xx

studying // george weasley

masterlist!

a/n: ugh i love comforting george it makes me so soft. thank u for requesting!

summary: Exams are stressing you out, but George always seems to be there to help you relax.

(1.6k)

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Exams were rapidly approaching and your workload was getting a bit too heavy for you to carry.

You sat at the Great Hall, using the massive table space to study. You had so many papers, and none of the table in your common room could hold them all without some getting lost in a shuffle. You had a plate of food discarded to your right. You had woken up early, granted you had barely slept at all, and devoured your food, only so you could move onto your studies quicker. 

George stumbled into breakfast, his overgrown and disheveled hair falling into his eyes. He pushed it back, yawning. He crossed his arms, pulling the sleeves of his sweater over his hands and trying to trap some of his body heat. The weather outside was getting nicer, but it seemed like the stone castle walls were clinging to the cold weather.

He made his way over to you, furrowing his brows with a sympathetic look as his eyes began to blur just with a glance at your course load. He picked up a textbook that rested on the outskirts of the mountain you had created around you, and flipping through the pages, he immediately felt overwhelmed for you. He put down the textbook, and looked over to you. Your face was about five inches away from the paper you poured yourself into, and you bit your lip harshly.

He moved to stand behind you, gently tugging your shoulders back and into him. He felt the tenseness in your neck, and as you leaned into him, he felt you relax. You pressed the back of your head into his stomach, and let your quill fall from your hand. He moved his hands from your shoulders and into your hair, gently running his finger through it and raking his short nails over your scalp. You felt yourself dissolving, but not for long.

Your mind was plagued with the Potions essay in front of you, and you retracted from George’s grasp, your hair trailing from his fingers.

George wasn’t surprised, if anything he was surprised he had gotten you to relax for as long as you did (20 seconds). He loved playing with your hair, he loved the grin that you tried to suppress when he did it, and he loved the way your body seemed to fall at his mercy by such a small gesture. You never let him do it for long, feeling embarrassed by the reaction it elicited from you.

“Anything I can help you with?” George asked, but he already knew the answer. The only subject he could even compare to you in was Charms, and you had finished your revisions for that class a few days ago.

“Sadly,” you mumbled, still writing furiously, “I don’t think so. Go ahead and look around though.”

You made a sweeping gesture with your hand, motioning to the papers that lay around you.

“Why’re you down here so early?” George asked, settling into the table and filling his plate.

“I didn’t want to wake my dormmates,” you said, rolling up the Potions essay after you proofread it, “and I couldn’t sleep anyways.”

George moved a hand to your face, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear. He smiled at the short lasting peaceful look on your face, but you turned your head away from him and reached across the table for your Arithmancy work.

“You could always sneak up to my dorm,” George said, shoveling some eggs in his mouth, “Fred and Lee don’t go in there to study.”

You chuckled at the idea of Fred, George, and Lee sitting around studying together.

“Maybe. Afraid you won’t be able to see your floor once I put all my papers down, though,” you said, flipping through a textbook and running a quick finger over the words.

“I wasn’t attached to it,” George replied, making you smile again.

You had learned to work through any distractions George presented while you studied, because having him around seemed to make you significantly less stressed. Just his tired and glazed over eyes made you feel comforted. His slow morning movements made you feel homely.

“Any plans for the day?” you asked him, knowing he wasn’t going to be working on his revisions.

“Fred said he had an order dispute he needed my help on,” George said, lifting his arms over his head to stretch. The bottom of his sweater rose, and in the corner of your eye you admired his toned stomach and the tuft of ginger hair that sprouted from his waistband. Your cheeks warmed, but you focused your eyes back to the confusing subject in front of you.

“Do you think you’ll be doing this all day?” George asked, lowering his arms and looking at the side of your face.

“I hope not,” you mumbled, and began to move your fingers through the piles, taking register of the work you had left, “I have a few hours worth of Arithmancy, but I think Hermione offered to help me with some of it, so it shouldn’t take that long. I just finished Potions, and I wanted to go over Transfiguration one last time.”

George sighed heavily, watching the work pile up as you grouped it together.

“Are you going to the library again?” 

“I think Hermione wanted to meet in the common room,” you said, setting your quill down for the rest of breakfast, “I could work in there for the rest of the day.”

“Like I said,” George smirked at you, “my bedroom’s always open.”

You rolled your eyes and bumped your shoulder into his. You rolled up your parchments, organizing them into neat stacks. You stuffed your textbooks into your bag and piled the papers on top. George helped you, rolling the last bits of parchment and handing them to you.

You finally breathed, setting your elbows on the table. You picked a piece of fruit from George’s plate, and he wrapped an arm around your shoulder.

“It’s almost over,” he said, breathing in the smell of your shampoo, “then it’s summer, and you can visit The Burrow.”

You nodded, closing your eyes and trying to pull memories from last year at George’s house. You tried to remember Molly’s cooking, the days in the garden with Ginny and Hermione, the nights you snuck into Fred and George’s room and talked all night.

These were just about the only things getting you through exams. 

Studying with Hermione went as well as it could. You had agreed to study with her because she usually had firms grasps on the subjects, but Arithmancy ended up taking longer because you had to explain a lot of it to her. Large bags formed under her eyes, and her already frizzy and uncontrollable hair was even more frizzy and uncontrollable. The time together sort of boosted your ego, really, giving you confidence in your knowledge about the subject. 

You had started Arithmancy when the sun had just risen, and by the time you closed your textbook, the sun was fading and an orange sunset floated through the tall windows of the Gryffindor common room. You paid little attention to Hermione sinking into the couch with her Charms textbook, and moved over to the window. Your Transfiguration textbook tucked under your arm, tabs and writings marked all over it, was long forgotten. Your face lit up in the glow of the sunset, and you imagined you were at the Burrow, watching the sun disappear over a grassy hill.

George came down the stairs, still in his pajamas he had eaten breakfast in, his hair just as messy. He had figured you were done with studying, and came to save you. He looked towards Hermione on the couch, but found you missing. A quick glance around the room and he found you by the window. The orange hue from the receding sun glowed in your face, and he watched you. Your eyes were closed, your chest slowly rising and falling. Your grip on your marked up textbook was so loose, he thought you might drop it. You rocked a little on your feet, and it looked like the slightest bit of wind could knock you over.

He came to your side, and at his hand reaching for your waist, your eyes slowly opened. He smiled down at you, taking the textbook from your hands and placing it on the table behind you. You wrapped your arms around his neck, and breathed deep. 

“George?” you said to him in a hushed tone.

“Hm?” he hummed back to you.

“Would you play with my hair?” you asked, feeling no shame about the grin that would spread across your face.

His smile only widened, and he nodded his head enthusiastically. He brought his hands from your waist, setting each on the side of your face. The heels of his hands started near your eyes, and he ran his hands through your hair. Your head tilted back at the motion, and you let it roll with his hands. He grouped your hair like he was going to put it in a ponytail, using both hands, and lifted it from your neck. He twisted it, and then let it fall, watching as some of it landed in your face.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispered, his cold lips brushing against your forehead in a loving and chaste kiss.

“I love you, George,” you mumbled, resting your cheek against his strong chest.

He ran a hand soothingly over your head, brushing your hair down. The other pulled you tighter to him.

“I love you too, Y/n.”