Pregnant by a Weasley: Fredxreader

117- little bastard

"Well if you don't mind." I said, moving my arse to the front of the sofa, a hand resting on my overly large stomach, "I really fancy a nap and as much as I hate to say it. I need help getting off this couch, and up those bloody stairs."

The ginger boy laughed, instantly standing up and grabbing my hands to help me up off the sofa.

I groaned as I made my way to my feet, them already aching after taking barely two steps.
I feel the twins shift in my stomach.
Feeling sick with cramps as they continued to kick and kick.

They were becoming restless. They certainly wanted out of there.

George rubbed the bottom of my back as he guided me along the floors and up the stairs.
Me desperately wanting to tell him that I'm fine, being the very independent person I am, but knowing that it would be a complete lie.

I took one step at a time. Continuing to walk up the stairs, my breath heaving and panting as I took one step at a time.
Never have I been this unfit.

Let's hope there's not a murderer after me, I'd be screwed.

"Thanks Georgie." I smiled, giving my literal brother a side hug as he left me to get into a shirt of Fred's that I wore for bed.
Even if it was four o'clock in the afternoon.

Getting into bed, I felt my eyes close as I prayed for even half an hour of sleep, hoping the twins were just as tired as I was.

————-

I woke up to a hand on my stomach, rubbing small circles with their thumb and another hand on the arch of my back.

I smiled, not yet opening my eyes but I could tell exactly who it was.
"Sleep well love?"

Rolling slightly, I turned to look at him, having to lift my large belly so that I could lay on my back.
I miss laying on my front so much!

"As well as I could've." I smiled, admiring his features. His messy ginger hair being one of my favourites for sure.

"And how did my little angels sleep?"

"Angels." I spat, though a smile made its way to my face, "little nightmares I'm telling you. Not even born and they're already making my life hell."

"I do feel for you." He smiled gently, "but we're going to be welcoming our little ones into our lives soon and it's going to be perfect."

"Even with the raging war?" Sarcasm dripping from my lips.

"Even with the raging war."

He kissed my lips gently, moving to hover over me as it deepened.
His hands running up my sides and my fingers going into his hair.

"Y/N." George had burst into the room, Fred throwing himself off of me and to the side, "oh your dads here."

Fred sighed, rolling to lay on his back, looking up at the ceiling: "fucking cockblocker."

—————

"Wouldn't it be so much easier if I just carried you?" Fred asked, doing his best to steady me as I made my way down the stairs.
I think it was about time that for the time being I sleep downstairs. Couldn't risk falling at this stage.

"No because I must weigh a great deal right now and you've not played quidditch for a long time Freddie."

His hand went to his heart, "are you saying that I'm not the man you fell in love with??"

"No. I'm saying you're not as fit as you was in school. Neither of us are."

He scowled, "that's it. I'll prove it to you then."

Hooking his hands underneath my legs, he raised me into his arms, a charming yet cocky grin making its way on to his face as he looked me in the eyes.

"Cocky prick." I whispered, barely audible as his mouth touched mine.
Then as if noticing he still had me in his arms, at the very top of the steep steps, he began his way down, my head resting on his shoulder and hands clasping around his neck.

And yet still, butterflies were present in my stomach. As if nothing had changed from day 1.

—————-
"Hey dad!" I greeted, Fred dropping me onto the couch at the side of him before taking a seat on the arm chair.

"What's wrong?" He replied hurried, "why's Fred having to carry you?"

I rolled my eyes, "he thought it would be a good idea to try and prove he was still in as good a shape as he was at school."

Dad rolled his eyes, with a slight laugh, "stop playing quidditch and you've had it mate. Kid on the way. I'd give it two months and you'll have a dad belly, your hairs thinning already."

We shared an amused glance as Fred looked horrified, pulling nervously at his ginger locks before requesting that he go and make coffee.

"So how is it really going?" Dad asked, his eyes kind and caring as he rubbed the bottom of my back, " and don't say you're fine."

"Absolute bollocks dad." I said with a small sigh. "That's what it is. It's nothing like it says in the fucking magazines. There's no pregnancy glow or joyous occasions when babies kick. The first couple times were great, now the little bastard seems to want to abuse their mother before they're even born."

I carried on in a ramble, "Fred can get ready: when this little shit comes out they're gonna be completely dependent on daddy. Not mummy. Daddy."

My dad looked at me, resisting the urge to laugh, yet promptly shut up as I sent him a death glare.
One that I had mastered since being little.

"You'll feel differently when they're here Y/N. Have a little faith in yourself. You're gonna be an awesome mum. And though I hate to compliment Fred, he's gonna be an awesome dad.

That baby will be a lucky sod to get just one of you, and the jammy git gets both. Things will clear up before you know it and soon you'll be holding the little devil in your arms, surrounded by the people you love."

"I love you dad."