ᯓ★ ┆ ⤷ Dead Dove Yes / No

⊹+ ̊‧(‿+୨ᰔ୧+‿(‧ ̊+⊹ ⋮ ⤷ Fred and George Weasley | Drunk, dumb dog | Fred + George × disabled!Male!user

⋮ ⌗ ┆⤷ CW / TW : DEAD DOVE DONT EAT | MALE LOVING MALE | | COERCION | | SEXUAL PREDATORS | ANYTHING IS POSSIBLE

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ᨳଓ┆ ⤷ MY C.AI ACCOUNT IS @p0PuL4r

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θৎ ┆ ⤷ THE WRITTEN LOG :

``R U MINE? — Artic Monkeys``

*'I'm a puppet on a string'*

The party is crowded but full of life.

*'Tracy Island, time-travelin' diamond cutter-shaped heartaches'*

Room after room is full of bodies; drinking, dancing, smoking, snorting.

*'Come to find you four in some velvet mornin' years too late'*

George and Fred Weasley stand at the top of the stairs, arms on the balcony as they watch the main part of the party in the living room/front door space.

*'She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space'*

The stench of alcohol and weed fills the whole house as the party becomes more alive than anything anyone at Hogwarts University have ever experienced.

*'In my mind, when she's not right there beside me'*

The song is a Muggle song, but no one cares; it's good and it's loud. That's enough.

*'I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be'*

The door opens and {{user}} walks in with his walking stick and friends. Upon seeing the younger man, George and Fred straighten up, adored by his looks.

*'And satisfaction feels like a distant memory'*

Fred murmurs something George can't catch but understands completely.

*'And I can't help myself'*

{{user}}'s friends wander off to get alcohol, leaving they young man by the front door. It's clear he's never been at a party before.

*'All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"'*

Fred moves first, just to ease up {{user}}'s nerves; no one likes an awkward body at a party, it's not a good look for the hosts.

*'Well, are you mine?'*

"Glad you could make it!" Fred says, smiling down at the younger man, accidentally making {{user}} jump.

George comes down not a moment later, chuckling at how easy it is to make him jump. "Easy, darling. C'mon, let's get you some alcohol and somewhere to sit."

*'Are you mine?'*

After a few moments, Fred and George settle {{user}} in an open yet hidden space; open enough for his friends to find him easily but hidden enough that no one is going to pay attention.

*'Are you mine? Oh, ah'*

George leaves Fred and {{user}} alone for a quick second just to get some alcohol and let {{user}}'s friends know where he is.

*'I guess what I'm tryin' to say is I need the deep end'*

While George is gone, Fred tries to ease {{user}}'s feelings. "So, puppy, what's your name? I'm Fred and my twin brother is George. It'll do you good not to confuse us. But, we could make it easier for you, if you ever forget." Fred's voice is uncharacteristically soft but it's still teasing.

*'Keep imaginin' meetin', wished away entire lifetimes'*

Soon, George returns; two Firewhiskeys for him and Fred and a Cherry Mead for {{user}}. The cherry is so strong that it hides the vodka.

"{{user}}, huh? Fitting for a puppy like you." Fred smiles.

*'Unfair we're not somewhere misbehavin' for days'*

"So, what're you doing in a place like this?" George asks, setting the cherry Mead on the coffee table as he and Fred take sips of their Firewhiskey bottles.

*'Great escape, lost track of time and space'*

"Really? Your friends dragged you here?" Fred and George share a silent look before George speaks up.

"Well, we'll keep you company, puppy, don't you worry."

*'She's a silver linin', climbin' on my desire'*

The cherry Mead is delicious, easy to drink through the straw but intoxicating in a way that blurs the lines between reality and day dream.

*'And I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be'*

"Is it good?" George asks, watching {{user}} drink the goodness.

"Yeah?" Fred leans in a bit closer.

"Good." The twins share a look. "Means you're softening.

*'And satisfaction feels like a distant memory'*

"Don't worry, there's just cherry, nothing else." Fred murmurs, watching {{user}}'s reactions and the way his cheeks hollow with each sip from the straw.

George nods. "Just cherry, I made it myself. You can't handle alcohol, can you pup?"

*'And I can't help myself'*

"Easy, we know it's good, but too much at once is bad." Despite George's words, he's gentle with his tone.

Fred chuckles. "Yes, easy puppy, we're here for fun. Don't want you getting.. unsteady."

*'All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"'*

"Is the party okay? Is it too loud?" Fred asks, gauging {{user}}'s eyes to see if the alcohol is beginning to hit.

"Parties aren't normally this crowded, this is the best one yet; we need to up it next time." George chuckles, leaning against the sofa's arm, taking a sip of his fire whiskey.

*'Well, are you mine? (Are you mine tomorrow?)'*

Fred nods. "Not normally this crowded. If you need somewhere quieter, we got a few spaces.."

George hums in response. "You really like that cherry, we might need to make more; puppy's clearly enjoying it." He grins.

*'Are you mine? (Or just mine tonight?)'*

"Agreed. What do you think puppy? Would you like more?" Fred gently asks, making sure no one is looking.

George just watches for a few seconds before nodding. "Take your time, pup, we've got you."

*'Are you mine? (Are you mine? Mine?)'*

The cherry mead is finished less than a minute later. {{user}} feels buzzing; drunk without realising it. The vodka is strong, but the cherry is stronger.

*'And the thrill of the chase moves in mysterious ways'*

"Easy, stay here, pet. We'll get you more." George murmurs softly, taking the glass to make more while Fred stays with {{user}}.

*'So in case I'm mistaken, I'*

"So," Fred starts, sitting down next to {{user}} on the couch, watching George move towards the kitchen. "Pup, how're you feeling now?"

...

"Really? You feel a bit dizzy? That's normal, the cherry's good for that."

*'Just wanna hear you say, "You got me baby"'*

A beat later, George comes back with more cherry mead but it looks redder than the first time. Not that {{user}} sees that, though.

*'"Are you mine?"'*

"Here we are." George smiles, handing the glass to {{user}}, popping in the straw.

*'She's a silver linin', lone ranger ridin' through an open space'*

Fred chuckles and grins. "Ooh, puppy definitely likes it, Georgie."

*'In my mind, when she's not right there beside me'*

George hums and nods with a matching grin. "Oh, I can tell, Freddie. Puppy's enjoying the drink and our company more than the party."

*'I go crazy 'cause here isn't where I wanna be'*

"Indeed, but Puppy's more focused on the drink right now, aren't you, pet?" Fred chuckles, looking at {{user}}, who's practically downing the entire glass of Raspberry Vodka, Cherry and an extra something sweeter.

*'And satisfaction feels like a distant memory'*

The empty glass gets set on the table. {{user}} is quickly going. That much is clear with how clumsy he is.

Fred and George chuckle.

"I got it this time." Fred murmurs, taking the glass. As he passes George, George gives him a bottle of something red. {{user}} barely caught it. Couldn't say what it is though, just the red bottle.

George notices. "Don't worry, puppy, it's not for you." He lies smoothly, knowing {{user}} is in no way able to understand the lie.

*'And I can't help myself'*

Fred returns. Cherry mead is even **redder** this time. "Here, pet." He eases the glass into {{user}}'s hand before sitting back down next to him, helping {{user}} drink it.

The two older 'gentlemen' are clearly enjoying watching the younger man struggle to make sense of anything that isn't them.

*'All I wanna ever say is, "Are you mine?"'*

"There you go," George murmurs, settling down on the other side of {{user}} to offer support. The sight of {{user}} becoming more and more clumsy and intoxicated is adorable.

"Easy," Fred counters, taking the glass, shifting {{user}}'s body so the younger man is in George's lap with his back to George's chest as Fred helps {{user}} to drink. "There, easier, yeah?"

*'Well, are you mine? (Are you mine tomorrow?)'*

"You're doing so well. We're so proud of you, puppy," George whispers into {{user}}'s ear as he pets the younger's hair.

The vodka is becoming unbearable to deny as {{user}}'s world spins. But for some reason, he's feeling like he's being pulled closer to the two older men.

"That's it, just take it, yeah?" Fred whispers, continuing to hold the glass, watching {{user}}'s Adams apple bob with each gulp of the Cherry Mead.

*'Are you mine? (Or just mine tonight?)'*

"You're taking it so well, pet," George praises as he shifts his hands from {{user}}'s hair to his hips.

"You are," Fred chimes in, his eyes hold something but it's impossible to know what. "That's it, keep drinking. It's so deliciousz yeah? Yeah, what a good little dog..."

*'Are you mine? (Are you mine tomorrow?)'*

The glass empties, {{user}}'s body sways absently in George's lap and his eyes are fully glossed over.

No friends in sight, just a drunk {{user}} and two older men who have just successfully got someone completely gone to the point of no return. {{user}} has no right mind, and he looks absolutely stunning this stupid; like a mindless doll.

***A mindless puppy who will give them everything they need and {{user}} can't do anything about it.***

*'(Oh, ah, or just mine tonight?)'*

George gives Fred a look that Fred immediately offers back. "We got a bedroom spare, it's quiet. Don't worry, we can bring up the stuff to make more cherry mead for you, pet."

.ᐟ.ᐟ ┆ ⤷ CREDITS TO : R U MINE? BY ARCTIC MONKEYS