#High Flying Fred

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

FRED DURST OFF THE TOP ROPE (or steel structure)

[escapingpurgatory]

justice for peanut and fred! fly high, babies 🕊

[crimsoncubesheep]

nothing else happened and their both happy and okay and together!

[czolgosz]

i should have been at the buffalo institute of art somewhere between october 9 and december 20 2020 😢 i'm kind of distraught quite honestly.

well let's all go here <-it's inaccurate but idc it's jokes

[monzamash]

★ bargain bin; —send me a driver + prompt/dialogue starter and i'll write a tiny musing for you

loosen up charles leclerc x you —18+ (sex, mature themes, coarse language) —requested by @tlhd7 (absolute gem) and lovely anon 💖

you knew you were done the second you saw ferrari’s usgp liverly on instagram. the little slither of black peeking out of the collar of charles’ suit already conjuring up wild, wild thoughts. none of them holy. charles looked good in black, that was a well known fact — whether he was wearing a tuxedo or even lounging around in a simple black shirt he looked hot. and although he exuded sunshine energy most of the time, there was a darkness that you enjoyed about him. vexed and flustered charles turned you on.

once you had confirmation from your boyfriend that they were indeed wearing black fireproofs this weekend, the decision was final. you were flying out to texas because nothing was going to stop you from indulging in your greatest fantasy — jet lag who? and nobody was going to stop you from slinking into charles’ drivers room while he prepped for practice. absolutely nobody.

“knock knock…” you playfully greeted, causing charles to glance over from where he was perched on his physio bed. 

“well hello, mon ange… who let you in?” he teased back with a smirk and placed his phone on the table beside him.

“andrea did because i’m actually here to do your warm up massage… fred thought it was really important to get a professional in to make you feel good.” 

charles' soft smile dropped into a devilish smirk, eyes narrowing with desire as soon as his mind registered what you were saying. he liked to roleplay a little, especially on the road when everything felt so serious and tiresome — he loved a sprinkle of spiciness added to the mix and who better to bring it than the woman of his dreams.

“oh well don’t let me stop you, ma’am,” he rushed before laying back down on his front, smiling from ear to ear and giggling into the face hole.

“thank you, sir — i’ll get started on your back first… making sure all those hard knots are worked out before your race,” you stated, brushing your hands down the expanse of his clothed back. the black mesh felt smooth against your palms as you moved them up and down in long strokes, "how's that pressure?”

“incredible but you can be harder if you like,” charles mumbled, his eyes closed while he enjoyed the feeling of your touch. 

“oh, it’s gonna be hard, mr. leclerc — please be patient.” 

you couldn’t help but stifle a laugh into your shoulder — every time you played a character, you struggled to keep it together but eventually the insecurity of it all slowly dissipated as you focused back in. 

you thumbed the hem of his fireproof top and dragged it gently up his back, exposing the tanned skin that beautifully complimented the black fabric, all taut and soft and sprinkled with freckles. each muscle danced under your fingertips as you carefully traced the marks you’d left the night before — the remnants of your reunion making every nerve in your body tingle from the memory. the frenzied fingernail tracks were red, but fading and you could tell charles liked the feeling of your cool palms grazing them by the soft, nearly inaudible moan that slipped from his pursed lips.

“feel good?” you asked, smirking to yourself.

“amazing.” he practically groaned in response. 

“i’ll get you to turn over now so we can shift focus to your front.”

it didn't take long for charles to scurry up and flip over onto his back. he looked like a kid entering a candy store, all wired and wide eyed from what was on offer, and the promise of a sweet treat at the end. you rubbed your hands together and pushed his shirt up a little further before working your hands across his tight abdomen and over his chest, spending a little extra time on the perked nipples that always got his engine revving. to balance out the moans of pleasure, you ghosted your fingertips down his ribs, causing a high pitched giggle to erupt from the man below, immediately cutting the tension bubbling up.

“very ticklish there, ma’am — go lower please…” 

“oh, do you feel tight down here?” you asked innocently while unzipping his suit a little further down his hips.

“very tight - bit lower than that… lower… lower,” charles’ voice grew quieter the closer you got to where he ached until your hand gently grasped his hard cock, “ah, yes - right there,” he sighed. 

you stroked him through the black fireproof trousers, the fabric bunching as your hand worked him over, “ah, i see… very stiff in this area — try to relax for me, charles.” 

the sound of his name falling sultrily from your mouth as you worked him in your hand had him moaning into his arm that had instinctively come up to cover his mouth. the walls of his drivers room were thin, so thin that you’d been told more than once to keep it down. it never stopped you — in fact, maybe it even encouraged the exhibitionist streak you two had. 

through the soft moans, charles eventually grasped consciousness and came up for air - he loved watching you get him off, almost as much as he enjoyed returning the favour. everything about you set him alight — your eyes, your voice and the way you studied every little twitch on his face while you made him feel good.

slowing slightly, you pensively looked down at your hand and tutted, “i think i may need to use some kind of lubrication to really get these stiff knots out…” 

charles eagerly nodded, “do whatever you need to do.”

“as long as you’re sure…” you stated cautiously, peeling down his fireproofs and underwear in one foul swoop, “is it okay if i use my mouth? i think it could really help.” 

a gutteral moan vibrated in charles’ throat as his head lulled back in disbelief, “fuck… i mean, yes- yes, yes, yes, yes.” 

it never took long to have him exactly where you wanted him — you always started with a tiny kitten lick to his tip, your tongue would travel down to the base and back up before taking him fully in your warm mouth. before too long, he was sitting upright and pulsating down the back of your throat with his fingers loosely grasping the back of your head for dear life, needing something, anything to hold onto while you had him seeing stars. his other hand was pressed so hard to his mouth that when you stood up and wiped your lips, you could see a red hand print left in its wake. 

“are you feeling looser now, mr. leclerc?” you teased and massaged his shoulders once more with a smirk lining your swollen lips. 

“oh my god stop or you’ll make me hard again,” charles groaned and pulled you into a passionate kiss, “you will be the death of me eventually, sweet girl.”

a/n— please don't ask me to define "tiny" because this is over 1k words lol i got carried away because i haven't written for charles in a loooong time and these two requests were way too good not to combine! i have no chill. shop the sale event here !!

[rainydayathogwarts]

Ain't no sunshine when she's gone - Sirius Black

"Hey I ought to leave the young thing alone, but ain't no sunshine when she's gone."

warnings: smut, age gap 1.2k wc

Sirius hadn't been the one to make the first move. That was his excuse for all the disapproving glances Remus shot his way. Young, and high enough of authority to encourage Fred and George's antics in a way that was discouraged by the other adults in the house, everyone saw you as a trouble maker seductress who would only cause turmoil in Sirius's life. But despite this, Sirius was a goner the instant you sent him a flirtatious smile, cornering him in the kitchen of his own house.

Being one of the youngest high ranking aurors at the ministry of magic, your name had quickly been brought up in a meeting at the order of the phoenix, the team desperately needing an inside link. Chasing you down wasn't difficult, and nor was recruiting you. You'd shared all the beliefs order members had, and were attending meetings from the very start, providing the others with information that was impressive for an agent in her early 20's.

The first time you'd spoken to Sirius alone, you were inevitably nervous, accidentally hitting your hip against the corner of the table as you went to put your mug in the sink. He had amusedly asked if you were okay, a hand coming up to rest on the small of your back. That made you panic even more, eyes scanning the close proximity between you, and you nodded, scratching the nape of your neck shyly. "I'm Sirius, by the way." You'd shaken the hand he offered, introducing yourself to the man. And apparently, after that interaction you hadn't found him nearly as scary, waiting for meetings to be over so you could speak to the older man, catching up with him about life.

You realised after a while that you always had so much more to say about your day, having come straight to the manor from work, still wearing your heels and uncomfortably tight blouse that always had the top button open, but made you look absolutely incredible. Meanwhile, Sirius will have been at the manor all day, only interacting with people who came in and out of the house, otherwise spending his days alone. He knew he should have turned down your offer. The chance of him getting caught was just too high, but you insisted. "It's not a far walk from here, and your animagus form can disguise you perfectly."

It was the first breath of fresh air Sirius had gotten since he escaped, and he felt himself look at you in admiration the whole way to your apartment. He wondered how you walked in those heels. Marvelled at how you weren't cold in those thin tights and skirt that was just a tad bit too short to wear to work but long enough for you to get away with. When you finally turned the key into the entrance door of your building, letting Sirius into the apartment complex, he was able to see the mischievous smile on your face. He didn't what what overtook him, but he was aimlessly following you up to your apartment, and accepting the glass of wine you offered him.

"To your first adventure as a free man, Sirius Black." His gaze stuck to you, staring as you took a sip from your glass. Time slowed as a drop of wine slipped between your lips and the glass, landing on your crisp white blouse. His jaw went slack when you gasped, fingers immediately flying to unbutton your blouse, revealing your chest to him for a quick second before you were rushing to your kitchen sink and ridding your top from its red stain. Sirius downed his glass of wine before putting it down, taking three long strides to stand by you at the sink. You sighed, spinning around to face him, a wild glint in your eyes when you saw him struggle to keep his eyes levelled with yours. You pulled him closer to you by his sweater, letting him stumble closer to you. Leaning forward, your lips found his in a kiss, which was quickly sped up by Sirius, hands finding your hips to press your body against his. His beard scratched your chin lightly as he deepened the kiss, tongue battling with yours over dominance which he effortlessly won over.

Almost fourteen years without kissing someone does something to a man, you thought, when he had you pressed tightly against your mattress, thrusting into you from the back so harshly that you were sure the bed would break. Your moans serenaded him, encouraging him to quicken his pace until he physically couldn't hold himself back anymore. His orgasm hitting him faster than he would have liked, Sirius laid back on the bed next to you, apologising profusely. "It's been so long." He cried, accepting the kisses you pressed onto his jaw, an arm wrapped around your waist, as though to keep you from leaving him. But with the way you threw a leg over his thighs, pulling your body on top of his, it was clear you weren't done with him yet.

Sirius groped your tits, nipples grazing his chest while you continued to suck hickeys onto his neck, one hand stroking his cock for him to get hard again. When you felt him hardening, you were quick to sink down onto him, bouncing on top of him whilst he cursed, eyes glued to your figure. You put your hands on his chest to support you, caressing his tatted skin while he began regaining his senses, a hand coming up to touch your pussy, rubbing circles on your clit. You moaned, thighs beginning to burn as you resorted to grinding down onto Sirius's cock instead of bouncing. "I got you, sweetheart." He mumbled, bucking his hips up to help roll you over, making your cry out at the sudden pain from his harsh thrust.

Sirius began thrusting into you again with a steady pace, one hand playing with your clit as he leaned over you, catching your lips in another kiss. His chains dangled over your chest, jingling with each thrust Sirius pushed into you, panting into the kiss. He switched to press kisses to your neck instead, his pace slowing when you wrapped your legs around his torso, pushing his cock deeper into you. You whined, pushing your chest up into his as you threw your head back, nails dragging down his back in pleasure. "Please" You muttered, making Sirius press harder against your clit as his thrusts slowed down, not wanting to disappoint you again. He felt your cunt clamp down around his cock as you came, moaning loudly.

Sirius's thrusts slowed, and he pulled out of you, not wanting to overstimulate you. "Shit!" He cried when your hand chased his cock, wrapping around it to jerk him off, making him cum for the second time that night. He slumped against the bed, inhaling your scent mixed with the smell of sex, and shut his eyes for the night. Next time, you're not even going to have to invite him over before he'll be pouncing on you, fingers crossing to not get caught bending you over in the living room at Grimmauld pace.

[filmsmakkari]

your highness

fred weasley x slytherin!reader

Summary: When Slytherin beats Gryffindor in the final quidditch match of the season, Fred Weasley decides to give the Slytherin princess a little reward

CW: NSFW, semi public sex(?), oral (f receiving), dirty talk, praising.

Author's Note- As usual, I had a black reader in mind, so (Y/N) is described as having braids, but that's the only physical description. Anyone can imagine themselves in this fic. Also emmm I have never written smut in my life saurrr... I hope this makes you horny and I'm sorry if it doesn't!

To say that (Y/N) (L/N) hated Fred Weasley would be an understatement.

The Princess of Slytherin was in the prefect’s restroom, trying to wash the red and gold dye out of her hair. The last quidditch game of the autumn term was the next day, and Fred fucking Weasley thought it would be funny to make a mockery of the Slytherin team captain by having Peeves throw ink at her as she tried to run down the moving staircases. 

“That bloody…” she muttered as she roughly scrubbed her scalp. She’d been at it for what felt like hours when the dye finally washed away, and the raven-winged color of her long braids was finally visible again. 

Enraged, (Y/N) stomped out of the bathroom, envisioning ways to get her revenge. In her anger and fantasies of all the means of torture she could inflict upon the irritating prankster, she was barely aware of her feet carrying her down to the ever-calming bioluminescence of the  Slytherin common room. She waved her wand violently, blowing around a stack of papers and knocking over a desk, catching the attention of Blaise Zabini. 

The boy seemed slightly frightened as he said, “Hey (Y/N/N), you alright?”

(Y/N) huffed with irritation. “Oh, I’m more than alright. I’m ready to knock Weasley off his bloody broom.”

-

The Great Hall was alive with conversation. Some students excitedly cast charms, creating fireworks with their house colors and animals, while others feasted on fruits and vegetables in preparation for the big match. Slytherin vs. Gryffindor games were always the most anticipated. The extreme disdain between the two teams brought out the absolute best in them as players. Even if it was occasionally violent, it made for a great game. 

Fred and George Weasley sauntered into the hall with the typical swagger of Gryffindors, scanning the tables and admiring the displays from the students. As Fred eyed the Slytherin table, his gaze fell upon her. There in her quidditch sweater, brown knee-high boots, and a horribly tempting skirt, the Slytherin Princess, who’d earned her title by getting the best grades in her house, being captain of the quidditch team, and being so ridiculously beautiful that even the proudest Gryffindors tried their luck with her, was sitting on the table, locked in conversation with Blaise Zabini and Emma Vanity- the Slytherin chasers.

“Discussing a new and improved strategy for the pitch?” Fred asked, approaching her. “I might as well tell you now, you’re wasting your time.”

(Y/N) turned to him with an eye roll.  “Keep taunting me, Weasel. It’s the most satisfaction you’ll get today.”

“Keep dreaming. Tell me, how’d you like my little gift yesterday?” Fred asked, resting his hands on the table and leaning close to her face.

(Y/N) hummed. “To be honest I’d expected more from you, beater. You couldn’t even do the job yourself. That scared of little old me?” 

“You wish. You’ll see out there today. Tell you what. If you win, which you won’t, I’ll reward you,” Fred smirked.

“Please, what could you possibly have that I want?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know? Too bad you’ll never find out.” Fred winked and walked over to the Gryffindor table, filling (Y/N) with so much irritation that it made her face hot.

-

Fred Weasley was eating his words.

The match was over before it began, the Slytherin players flying like bullets, (Y/N) ’s strategy working to absolute perfection, giving (Y/N) the perfect opportunity to catch the snitch without hesitation, winning the last game of the season.

The after-party was a blur of green and silver, fireworks, and cheering. One second (Y/N) was being hoisted up in the air by her teammates while they chanted her name; the next, she was playing games with giggle juice and fire whisky with her classmates. The snake lair was on fire with passion and excitement. While (Y/N) was reveling in it all, she had another celebration in mind. While her friends chanted so loud that the paintings were all forced to cover their ears, (Y/N) quickly slipped out of the common room and skipped happily up the stairs with a clear destination in mind.

As the sleeping form of the fat lady came into view, (Y/N) suddenly realized she had no actual plan. She couldn’t get into the Gryffindor common room, and even if she could, what would she do? Find Weasley in his dorm room and slap him? Cast a spell turning all the furniture silver and green to boast Slytherin pride? Steal Fred’s clothes while he was in the shower and- oh. Somewhat embarrassed at how eager she’d been to go to the Gryffindor common room and at how her thoughts kept wandering back to Fred, (Y/N) quickly turned around and began to go back to her dorm but was quickly stopped in her tracks.

Standing before her was the very person who’d been nagging at her thoughts all night. There was Fred Weasley, with dripping wet red hair and no shirt, looking down on her with irritation and amusement.

“Well well,” he said tauntingly, stepping closer and closer to her until her back was pressed against the wall. “Just what is the snake princess doing so close to the lion’s den? Came here to gloat?” Heat was radiating off of him. He was angry about the match.

(Y/N) swallowed, suddenly nervous, her usual Slytherin pride and confidence nowhere to be found. “As a matter of fact, Weaselbee, I’m here to see you. I told you I’d win, I’m here to claim my reward.”

Fred raised an eyebrow at this. He walked over to the fat lady, knocking on the portrait softly. The fat lady awoke with a jump, giving Fred a frustrated glare.  “Sorry about this,” said Fred. “Iced Mice.” The fat lady hesitated. “And just what are you doing bringing her in here?”

(Y/N)’ s bite finally returned as she spoke, “I can show you better than I can tell you. How about a charm for taking the tongues of bad singers?” Fred chuckled at that.

“Why, I never!” said the fat lady as she finally swung open the door.

Fred took hold of (Y/N) ’s hand as he walked in, dragging her behind him.

(Y/N)’ s words were full of venom as she whisper-shouted, “Just what do you think you’re doing, you slimy-”

“Just be quiet for once, princess.”

Indignation swelled in (Y/N) ’s chest, but she obeyed. Though she toothlessly fought back, attempting every now and then to snatch her arm away from him, deep down, she wanted to see where this would go.

Fred dragged her to a dark corner, taking her by her hips and lifting her onto a desk. 

“What the hell are you doing?” (Y/N) asked with a furious look, but there was no bite behind the glare. Her heart was pounding so loudly she was afraid he’d hear it. 

“You came for your reward, didn’t you? You were so desperate for it that you were willing to cheat during the match,” he said, moving her hair and leaning into her ear.

(Y/N) shuddered at the closeness before pushing him away. “I didn’t cheat, Weasley, the hell are you talking about?”

Fred hummed, smoking at her and placing his arms on either side of her, caging her in.

(Y/N) scoffed. “This is ridiculous, I can’t believe I wasted my time coming here. Have a nice life carrot top.”

(Y/N) pushed him again, hopping off the desk and starting to walk away from him, but Fred quickly grabbed her by the waist, pulling her back into him and placing a wet, passionate kiss on her lips. (Y/N)’ s eyes widened in shock as Fred Weasley, the person she hated most since first year, slipped his tongue into her mouth and lifted her back onto the desk. Shocked and confused, she pushed him away a third time.

Fred looked deeply into her eyes, a tendril of red hair hanging over his eyes, making him impossibly more attractive. “Oh c’mon, love, don’t act like you don’t want it too. Like you haven’t wanted it since fourth year when you walked in on me showering after the quidditch cup.”

(Y/N)’s face got hot at the memory. “I hate you. You hate me. I’m the “princess of Slytherin,” remember?”

“Well then, your highness, allow me to serve you,” said Fred, dropping to his knees.

“What are you doing?” (Y/N) asked, her voice shaking as Fred ran his hands up and down her thighs, barely past her skirt. The tight little green dress and those white knee-high socks she was wearing had been driving him crazy since he first saw them, and he wanted nothing more than to see what was hidden underneath them.

“I’m rewarding you, even if you did cheat like a naughty little serpent, somehow I feel like this will be just as much as a reward for me.” He spread her legs wide, getting in between them and slowly peeling back her skirt.

(Y/N) breathed in sharply. “You have tormented me for six years, and now you expect me to let you use me to get off?’ 

“‘M sorry,” said Fred, kissing her thigh softly. (Y/N) shuddered. Fred kissed his way up to her sopping wet heat, muttering “I’m sorries” between every kiss. He finally made his way to her lacy undergarment, placing a soft kiss there. “You’re so wet, darling,” he said, popping his head out and looking at her, “It seems like you’ve already forgiven me.”

“In your bloody dreams, Weasley,” (Y/N) said with an unconvincing scoff. “I’ll hate you until the day I die.”

Fred hummed before quickly dipping his head back between her thighs, sliding her panties to the side, and licking a long stripe through her slick.

(Y/N) let out a throaty moan at the sensation, gripping the desk tightly. 

Fred chuckled against her, the vibrations making her breathe in deeply. “What was that about you hating me, love?” he asked.

“Shut up and get on with my reward, asshole.”

Fred smirked. “As you wish, your grace.”

Fred grabbed her thighs tightly and went to work, taking her clit into his mouth and sucking it like a starving man. (Y/N) moaned loudly before placing her hand over her mouth. Fred looked up at her, his sudden pause making her whimper. “No, no, no, darling. Don’t hide the noises.” He slowly pushed a single long finger inside her. “Let the whole school know.” Another finger. He looked into her eyes with a wicked smile. “Let them all hear how the snake princess let a lion make her scream.” He added two fingers that time and rapidly pumped in and out. And, just as he said she would, (Y/N) screamed. She went to cover her mouth again, but with his free hand, he took both of her wrists and held them in front of her. It burned, but it felt so good. (Y/N) began to move her hips slightly to increase the sensation, making Fred smile. “That’s it, beautiful, good girl. Good girl.” Fred spoke in a way that was almost patronizing. If she weren’t so close to the edge, she probably would have made some snarky remark, but (Y/N) couldn’t think straight as the pressure in her stomach was building up, and the Weasley boy was making her see stars. She let out another loud moan, throwing her head back as the pressure became unbearable. 

“Fuck, fuck, FUCK,” (Y/N) screamed as Fred’s fingers slammed into her g-spot, and she finally couldn’t take it anymore. (Y/N) let out a scream as she came, barely aware of anything around her. Her vision went blurry as the hot juices spilled out of her. Fred wasted no time re-attaching his mouth to her drenched cunt, licking up her juices until she was clean. “Mmm, sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted. Surprising for such a nasty girl,” Fred said, slapping her thigh, sliding her panties back over, and standing up.

He placed his arms on either side of her, staring at her intensely, his hair disheveled and her cum around his mouth. (Y/N) matched his gaze with equal intensity, her heart pounding, a million questions running through her head. After a few beats of silence, she finally spoke. 

“I still hate you.”

Fred actually laughed at that, shaking his head before looking back at her. “Beat me again, princess, and I’ll give you a better reward then my fingers and my  mouth,” he rasped into her ear before walking off to his dorm room, leaving her with her legs spread on a table of the Gryffindor common room.

“We’ll see how much you hate me then!”

[emeritusemeritus]

Hi love! If it's not too much to ask, could you maybe do a Fred fic with a bit of an insecure reader? As in, she hears some people say nasty things about her (mainly about appearance like weight) and her relationship with Fred, and she distances herself from him until one day she really can't handle staying away from him anymore? Sweet sweet fluff with a bit of making out by the end, maybe?

Hi Anon, I’m sorry this took so long! I tried to write it as if it was an insecure monologue, a little jumpy and janky like how the reader’s thought process would be. I hope you like it! 🖤

Warnings: Insecure reader, self-deprecating thoughts, bullying, verbal abuse, taunting, talks of breakups, appearance and other issues, negative mentions of weight. Kissing, implied sexual references. Happy ending I promise!

Word count: 2.7k

Fire and Ice

It wasn't easy being Fred Weasley's girlfriend.

Being with Fred, falling in love with him- that part was easy; but having such an extroverted, popular joker for a boyfriend was at times, not so easy.

You were quieter by nature, a little more introverted and a lot more insecure than Fred but you seemed to balance each other out well most of the time, ying and yang, fire and ice. Fred was always quick to silence your hateful internal monologue whenever it presented itself, reminding you that you were beautiful, important, loved- all the things he wanted you to feel, the way that he saw you. But sometimes the insecurities were too much, the voices in your head too loud that you began to believe them again.

Fred had been busy, the tri-wizard tournament had been announced and him and George were trying everything they could to work around the age restriction but upon the application. They’d been virtually locked in their dorm for days researching different ideas and brewing potions that would age them up, though you doubted it would work, they always surprised you in the end.

Their reclusion could not have come at a worse time for you, though of course you would never mention anything. You’d been stood in front of Fred when the students had gathered to watch the regal, horse-drawn carriage fly over the tips of the trees in the forbidden forest and across the Great Lake led by the majestic white winged horses that made it look effortless and well, magical. You’d stood with pure excitement as you watched the magnificent ship emerge from underneath the water and sail towards the bank until you’d all be called away for the feast.

Your excitement had dwindled almost immediately when the girls of Beauxbatons glided through the door in a whimsical and captivating display, grabbing everyone’s attention for their beauty and elegance- including Fred. You’d seen Ron look flabbergasted, a fresh pink hue on his cheeks as he looked upon the girls with mouth agape and a glazed look in his eye and couldn’t help but avert your eyes slightly to see Fred looking at them in a much tamer way, but seeing his eyes fixed upon them nontheless. It pulled at every single one of your heartstrings, that familiar sinking feeling in your gut instantly making you nauseated by the food in front of you.

Their uniforms were delicate and beautiful, tailored perfectly of the finest satin in such a rich colour that it was both feminine and powerful all in one. You couldn’t help but look away from Fred, from anything and began to pick at the edge of your frumpy school cardigan, suddenly disgusted by its mere existence.

When Dumbledore announced the entrance of Durmstrang, you didn’t even look up, already too consumed by your own self-deprecating thoughts. The uniform you’d once been so proud to wear now felt like a potato sack in comparison, shapeless and bland from head to toe. You suddenly wanted to get away, to do anything you could to get out of the shapeless mess and to prove to yourself and to others around you that you weren’t just a blob of blended wool and scruffy hair that had been haphazardly thrown into a high pony ahead of your long day of travelling back to school. But there was nothing you could do, forced to sit there in a mass of unflattering garments next to your boyfriend who had been looking at much more attractive females and pretend to be fine. Thankfully the arrival of professor Moody was enough to prompt serious discussion around you and you could blend into the background without notice, eating only tiny bits and slipping away before the end of the meal.

It continued for days, the stab in your side whenever you’d see the Beauxbatons girls in their pretty uniforms looking so sweet and dainty, often followed around by drooling boys that quivered with their every move. You were jealous, but you wouldn’t admit it, choosing instead to be disgusted by it all and very much wanting it all to be over and for them to be gone. You couldn’t forget the expression on Fred’s face when they made their grand entrance and the pain that it brought when you did remember. You’d never doubted his love for you, not really, though of course you doubted why he chose you in the first place- did he now regret that decision?

It had been days since you’d seen him and the messages he’d initially sent through Lee had dwindled to none, meaning that you were so out of communication that you felt that stinging dread all over again- was he preparing to break up? Had he found someone else? Someone undoubtedly prettier in a powder blue satin uniform?

So when you finally caught sight of that gorgeous red head in the hallway, you lit up, excited to finally get the chance to talk to him. You heard his laugh and smiled to yourself, feeling relieved already- until you noticed he was laughing with one of them. She was pretty, brown hair tucked perfectly into her blue hat and her satin cape bellowing perfectly around her.

Something inside you felt out of place all of a sudden, enraged by the injustice and the inevitable ending to your relationship. You were angry at everything, most notably Fred, the Beauxbatons, the whole stupid competition. It left a sour taste in your mouth and you realised that if Fred wanted out, he could have one of the stupid French girls.

You were sat in the great hall with Hermione quietly reading when you heard a group of people moving excitedly towards the cup which broke your concentration. You watched as Cedric Diggory placed his name in the cup and his friends cheered for him, smacking him on the back in a hearty well done when he suddenly stopped upon making eye contact with you and sent you a little smile of recognition. You smiled back with a little head nod and watched as his friends dragged him away, leaving the room in relative peace once again.

That was until Fred and George came barrelling into the room, their distinctive blend of voices crying out and echoing through the hall as they high five students across the benches, proudly clutching hold of something in their hands, professing that ‘they’d done it’.

You could barely look at them, for the first time not caring in the slightest about what they had created.

“It’s not going to work,” Hermione says from beside you and immediately you are met with their bodies either side of Hermione. You feel Fred’s hand on your shoulder, a little touch that should have given you hope but actually felt repulsive to you. You didn’t even look up from your page, nor acknowledge their arrival and if Fred noticed, he didn’t say anything- though you could feel his eyes in you. The second the Triwizard cup fought back against their tricks, propelling them into the air and forcing them back into the ground with a definitive thud, you were gone. You walked back towards the common room without so much as a glance, not caring to find out the predicted result of their attempt.

“I would just die if I had to wear their uniforms!” You heard from around the corner in a thick French accent that had you rolling your eyes. The stupid little French cackles reached your ears and it was all that you could do not to petrify them on the spot as you attempted to walk straight past them.

“Oh” one of them said, spotting you emerging from around the corner. Another small fit of laughter that was hardly concealed, upon seeing someone in the exact uniform they were mocking.

“Does it feel as frumpy as it looks?” Another one said, her accent almost indecipherable. You shot daggers at the group of four witches and tried to get past but they blocked you in.

“You’re with the tall redhead yes? I’ve seen you,” the blonde one says, making your stomach lurch at her mention of Fred. “He’s cute.”

You don’t retaliate, though you can think of many choice words you wish to say to her, presuming you didn’t reach for your wand first. Their words cut into you like a knife, though you try to block out the harsher things they say about your appearance, your weight, your ugly uniform. Only when they bright up Fred again do your barricades fall, their words tearing you apart.

“It’s funny actually, that he chose you. You look more of a girl he’d want to be friends with, definitely not one to be in love with.”

The final nail in the coffin for you was the round of laughter that echoed throughout the corridor, following you in your mind straight back to the common room until the second you passed out that night, still sobbing into your pillow.

The next morning, your eyes were virtually swollen shut from all the tears shed the night before. You felt retched, all of your fears coming true as the beautiful girls laughed at you, hitting every one of your insecurities. They may as well have called you fat, ugly, all the other things you knew about yourself but never said out loud.

You didn’t go to classes that day, never even attempting to step foot out of the dormitory or even your bed until you were certain everyone had left. You looked an ungodly mess with red puffy eyes and a mass of tangled hair that felt like a limp weight on top of your head. The tears started again within seconds of reaching the bathroom mirror, silently falling down your cheeks and landing in little droplets into the sink. You sobbed for your sorry appearance, for the loss of Fred and for the unfairness in life. Why couldn’t you just be pretty?

You eventually crawled back into bed, not even bothering to sort out the disastrous mess upon your head and forced yourself to go back to sleep, pushing all thoughts of him and them out of your head.

Three days you’d been confined to your bedroom, feigning a migraine that had managed to convince even Mcgonagall and Hermione. Ginny had tried to relay multiple messages from Fred, both verbally and in writing but you’d feigned a worsening headache, nausea and other ailments and asked her politely but definitively to leave, rendering the message unheard. You’d heard all about Harry’s selection from Hermione and how he and Ron were fighting but you’d barely listened to any of it, too consumed by your own issues.

The fourth day, you made it out of bed only to remember that it was a Saturday. You considered slipping back into bed and ignoring the sun completely but your bladder disagreed with your plan vehemently. You wandered to the bathroom and for the first time in days, looked in the mirror.

You looked so sad, so broken that it made your heart constrict a little, seeing a sad little girl staring back at you. You look younger somehow, like a first year all over again. Memories flash beneath your eyes, memories of meeting Fred for the first time, of being young and falling in love, of being the girl that he fell in love with.

Ignoring the vague rumbling of your food deprived stomach, you rush into the showers and attempt to untangle your hair using every product you can find. You shave, condition, lotion up your entire body and make a start on magically fixing your puffy face. You’re on a mission to look your best, to show those petty and judgemental bitches that you were just as worthy as them and more importantly, that you were definitely someone that Fred would- and did- love.

You dried your hair and curled it using a spell you’d found in an old teen magazine that worked surprisingly well and stood back to look at the result, feeling pleased. You looked like yourself again but better, happier.

You dressed in a nicer than usual outfit that was still casual but actually highlighted your curves rather than hiding them, something you knew that Fred liked after years of compliments on your curves. You momentarily considered grabbing a cardigan incase your confidence weakened but thought against it, instead grabbing a jumper than you’d stolen from Fred a year ago. You felt feminine and pretty for the first time in ages and actually smiled when you look in the mirror one last time.

“Well don’t you look nice,” Ginny said as you stepped out of the bathroom, closing the door from where she had walked back into the dorm, realising that everyone else was now awake. “Feeling better?”

“Much,” you replied honestly, smiling and nodding a little.Want to get breakfast?”

“I was going to have a shower, Fred’s down there though, he’ll go with you I bet,” Ginny says, grabbing a towel and her bathing stuff. You pursed your lips, not letting the glow fade as you nodded at her, butterflies starting to flutter about in your belly.

Walking down to the common room, your nerves were already starting to build as you scanned the room with your eyes, searching for the one person you hoped to see. The guilt of hiding from him, of pushing away was eating you up and you wanted nothing more than to just make it right. You spot George and Lee in one of the corners, Harry and Hermione on one of the sofas and a few more people dotted around but no Fred.

“Blimey,” you heard to your left but instead of seeing the boy you’d hoped to find, instead you found Ron. His mouth was slightly parted and he was looking at you with an expression he’d never looked at you with before, focusing uncomfortably on a piece of your chest never wished to have his eyes.

You flinched as you watched Ron get smacked in the back of the head unexpectedly, making him wince and rub his head but you didn’t see anymore after his initial reaction, instead focusing your attention on his assailant. Fred.

“Look at my girl like that again and I’ll transfigure every piece of furniture in your room into a spider,” he says gruffly as he walks past Ron, keeping his eyes on you and moves to stand directly in front of you, reaching for your hand.

“Are you feeling better?” He says carefully, eyeing you with slight trepidation, making you frown.

“Much better,” you reply carefully, watching his reaction.

“Good, then I won’t feel guilty for this,” he says, pulling you forcibly by the hand until you bump into his chest, his lips finding yours almost immediately as he kisses you with a fiery passion.

“You look so hot,” he mumbles against your lips, hands finding your synched waist and bordering on inappropriately low as one hand tucks into your back pocket. You kiss back with just as much passion, happy that all the doubts and the insecurity had been wiped away, though you still felt guilty for pushing him away. “You’re never hiding from me again.”

He begins to tug at your side and you realise he’s pulling you away, towards the stairs to the dorms.

“But Freddie, breakfast,” you weakly protest.

“Can wait,” he mumbles, the hint of a smirk tugging at his lips as he barely parts from you, only enough to push you up the stairs towards his empty dorm, giving you a teasing smack on the ass as you ascend, for good luck. You never doubted his love for you again, especially not for the next hour.

[cherry-pop-elf]

Sweet As Sweets

Fred Weasley x Chubby! Reader x George Weasley

(Can be read as platonic, because we all wish we had someone to comfort us on a sensitive topic like this)

Summary: You were being bullied by a gaggle of students for your weight. You were just enjoying a trip to Honeydukes with your friends. Made you self conscious, and that didn’t fly over the twins heads. They are going to fix your problems. Every last one of em

Warnings: Eating disorders, topics of weight, bullying, lots of weight talk, insecurity’s, the twins getting violent because no one hurts their loved ones

“Well if it isn’t my favorite trio-“ Mrs. Flume would beam, as she saw you three. You and the Weasley twins. All smiles. Every time it was time for Hogsmeade, you three had to come to the candy shop. Who can resist Honeydukes? Certainly not you three. Not to mention she adored the twins. They were always happy to help her, and gave her such wonderful ideas for new treats. She knew that the day they made their shop a reality that she would be more than happy to offer to stock their shelves with sweets. Honeydukes in Diagon alley. A perfect business prosper!

“Hey Mrs. Flume!” You waved, as the twins were already quick to help her with the bag in her hands. Fred with holding it, while George with putting what was needed on the shelves. Some things just needed a human touch, after all. Had you giggle. They were tricksters, sure, but no one can argue that they were business savvy. It’s what made you respect them so much. Jokes, but knowing there was a time and place.

“I was hoping to see you lot again soon. Oh there is this new candy my husband and I created. You three always have such wonderful opinions. Who better to know what kids like than kids themselves?” She would beam to you, and you had to smile. Such a sweet woman. Suppose you three really rubbed off on her.

“I’ll be right back. Boys, can you help me a moment?” She would ask, as the twins gave mock salutes to her. Had her chuckle at their Go Gettem attitude. Had her ruffle their beanies, that kept that vivid orange hair safe and warm. Off to work they went, as you stayed behind. Just admiring the beautiful shop.

“No surprise you are in here again.” Someone would call out to you. Your heart dropped, as you knew that voice. Was one of those prefects. Not the ones like Percy. Those who drank on power, and liked to abuse it. You couldn’t argue with them, or they would take house points from you. Even if you were in the same house. Made it sting more that your own house could wish such pain.

“Leave me alone.” You grumbled, as you tried not to face the gang. You didn’t want to. That gang of prefects was always bullying people like you. People who didn’t starve themselves to the point those high cheek bones were a product of starvation. They felt better than you because they were on the opposite end of the spectrum of hunger. They had their own battles, but they were taking it out on people. Spreading the toxic disease.

“What? Mouth already stuffed full?” Another one of prefects mocked, as they made a pig snout pull at their nose. Followed by oinking, as the gang echoed it. Had your eyes water, as you tried to cover your ears with your hat. Anything to make them shut up.

“Stop hogging all the sweets. We know you are one, but move-!” And a sharp push was given to your side. Had you squeak, as you plopped on your butt. The chain reaction causes you to hit the side of a counter, and pumpkin fizz soak your clothes.

“Now you STINK like one to-!” They continued to mock, as your eyes water. You just couldn’t take it. They were always following you into whatever shop you went. If it had food in it, even though you didn’t go to eat, they haunted you. They were probably jealous you were such good friends with the twins. More like had friends in general, that weren’t surface level. Regardless you would stumble upwards. Slipping on the soda, as you ran out into the snow. Sobbing, as the twins returned.

“Hey, where did-?” Fred puzzled, before the gaggles of prefects quickly hushed. Playing dumb, as they all looked around. Pretending to be curious of what the shop had to offer, while George noticed the fizzy footprints. That made him nudge Fred, and he took the hint. The duo soon outside, to see you sniffling in a frosty bench.

“What happened?!” The twins asked, as they hurried over. George was quick with a hot air charm, just like Molly taught him, as Fred looked over the scene. The orange soda unable to hide your tear stained cheeks.

“I eat alot, that’s what happened!” You hiccuped, as you rubbed your eyes. That had the twins sigh. Not in annoyance, or bother. But in empathy. Not the first time those prefects bullied someone your shape.

“And? We eat alot to!” George tried to defend, but you just sniffled more. “But you two don’t get fat-!” You hiccuped again, as Fred was sitting next to you.

“Oh come off it. Mum’s fat!” And that had George smack his shoulder. “SHE IS-! But that doesn’t mean she isn’t our mum. She’s big, and big ain’t bad. She and we don’t get along that well, but she’s still a wonderful mum.” Fred tried to clarify.

“Yeah. Also the best hugs. Our hugs suck because we’re sticks and bones.” George tried to tease. It was nice, though. They said Fat but not with that negative energy. Was just another word. Wasn’t sugar coating things at all. They were being honest, and not trying to make you feel better to stop your crying. Their words were real. Had you calm down, a little.

“Also, like look-“ George added, as he finished the charm. “You know how us Weasley’s are. Food is like a language. We like food. Food brings people together. And when we become business men, it’s gonna be the best way to say we care.”

You were understanding what he was trying to say. The Weasleys were a poor family, but they tried to feed. Hence why the older siblings were thinner than the younger. To try and make sure the younger ate. But with siblings moving out, getting jobs, food is able to not be so sparse. Food was now a enjoyment, compared to survival.

"When we make it big, I hope we can get fat id anythkng-!" That had you roll your eyes, but you were grasping what they meant. Still, you couldn’t help but pinch at a roll on your stomach.

“Oh stop that.” Fred would soon trap you in a hug. Made you unable to move your arms, as George joined in. Trapped between them too. Forced to listen, and unable to degrade yourself more.

“Charlie is also fat. Like he can’t keep flexing twenty four seven.” George added, as you recalled meeting him before. He was an extremely well built man. Excess mass is still excess mass. He’s right. You can’t just flex all the time. Even muscular guys are squishy.

“But-“ You couldn’t finish your thought, as Fred poked your nose. “Don’t say ‘but he actually has muscles’ you baby. We would love you if you were built like a train, or as skinny as a wooden one. So shut up about that.” Fred would lecture you.

“Not to mention you aren’t even that big. Like come on. Like COME ONNNNN-“ George would whine, as he plopped his head on your shoulder. “Like come on. So what if you eat a little more. You actually ENJOY food. Like come on.” He grumbled on.

“We rather be friends with someone who enjoys our cooking, and experiments to eat, than a skinny asshole who thinks just eating a slice of bread is going to murder you. Like this whole thing is dumb. Skinny this, fat that. Lame.” Fred would huff, as their own bodies were suffering issues.

The twins were very skinny, and that was a fact. They had developed muscle, from quidditch, sure. But they also were still underweight. It was so hard to keep on weight, given how much work they did. Suppose it can be exhausting being told you had a body to die for, when you hated it to begin with. Helped you see that maybe there were just as much perks to being plus size, as there were to being skinny. It’s your body. What’s with everyone wanting to be in your business?

“Come on. You deserve to edulge a little. Come on.” The twins would flutter their eye lashes, in that Halo Wearing way, and you snorted. They would call that a victory, as they smooshed their cheeks with yours. Warmth, love, and affection. What you needed.

“We will be right back. Trust us. Just enjoy the snow-“ They winked, before running back inside. You were a bit confused, but figured better not to question it. They were the twins after all. You made a guess someone’s going to be set on fire.

Seems you were right. It was a little while, but you soon saw the gaggle of school yard bully’s run outside. Their hair indeed on fire, and faces flushed heavily. As if they ate some kind of spicy candy.

They were all so desperate to stop the heat, and were soon all jumping into snow banks. Desperate to stop the burning. Just rolling around, and making a scene. Was such a sight, as they melted the snow. Reached the earth under it, and they were soon covered in mud. Cooled off, but a mess.

“Oink oink, wankers-!” The twins shouted, and laughed. Many of the fellow students pointed as well. Those prefects were in their own little mud baths. All to be pointed at, with laughter and mockery.

“Hey, we got some cool candy that Mrs. Flume wants us to test out. Let’s hit up The Three Broomsticks to try it out-!” George would cheer, as he held up the large bag of sweets. A mixture of bought, gifted, and experimental.

With Fred helping you stand up, to give you some pride and dignity, you would look through the open doorway. There was Mrs. Flume. She seemed to be closing the lid to a candy jar full of red little balls of sweets. When you two met eyes, she gave a hush. With a wink. You would nod your head to her, with a smile, before the twins yanked you off to your next adventure.

“I see someone took up your advice on prank candy.” You giggled, as those twins gave gasps. Making ‘who, us?!’ And fake looks of disbelief. That just had you all laughing even more, as they kept up the dramatic little scene of pretend innocents.

The day could have gone better, but then again the twins found a way to indeed make it better anyway. Such as snuggling with you in a booth. No shame between you three, as you enjoyed a nice hot meal. With butterbeer, and your favorite sweets. A day to just enjoy yourself. Cheat days were needed in life anyway.

You still were a little self conscious, but the twins were happy to help you in whatever direction you went. To be your biggest cheerleader for if you wanted to lose weight, or be your knights in shining armor for if you were contented with just the way you are.

Either way, you’ll never say no to the pure comfort of sharing sweets with the people you found sweet.

[downtherabbitholewithlucy]

😎When the band scores BIG at the Buy-1-Get-1 Sale at the Sunglass Hut😎

[fanficwritinggirl]

So High School...

“Harriet… Harriet are you listening to me?” her eyes widened as she snapped out of her daze. “Did you hear anything that I just said?” Hermione’s eyebrows were scrunched together as she looked confusedly at her friend. Harriets eyebrows raised as she stumbled on her words.

“Uhm, no sorry, I’m still half asleep,” it was a lie, she had a cup of coffee that morning and two cups of tea so tired was the last thing she was. No, her attention had been to drawn to that of Oliver Wood, star quidditch player and literally the most attractive boy that she had ever laid on especially when he was sitting further down the Gryffindor table with that annoyingly attractive smile on his face, his head rolling back every once in a while as he laughed at whatever his friend were saying.

“I’ll get you another coffee. We have a long day ahead of us. With classes and studying for end of term exams. And we have still have the quidditch game later on,” Harriet smiles at this. It was Gryffindor vs Slytherin today, the most important game to date, it was all that everyone had been talking about for months.

“Well, we are going to crush Slytherins arses, can’t have Malfoy or any of the other sleezy snakes bragging,” Hermione rolls her eyes at the thought.

“Oh imagine. They would never let us forget it. But with Harry on the team we won’t lose,” Harriet raises an eyebrow at this.

“Alright Mione, you do know there are other players on the team,” Ron comes up behind them, planting himself next to Harriet, his plate filled to the brim with sausages.

“Thanks for the confidence Mione,” Harry thanks into Hermione’s ear as he sits down next to her. Hermione smirks shaking her head.

“I’m just saying, Harry is the seeker. It’s one of the most important positions in the game.”

“And the seeker needs help from everyone else on the team, they all have their own roles to play. I mean look at Oliver, he’s our keeper, who would defend the goals without him. And I mean Fred and George are beaters, who would attack the other team,” Ron’s rant makes Harriet laugh to herself. Ron and Hermione really did bicker like an old married couple.

“Well, my statement still stands,” Hermione’s statement ends the conversation, causing them all to fall into a silence as they eat their breakfast.

Screeching and the flapping of wings come over head as owls start flying in dropping mail. Banging comes as they hit the hard wooden tables causing Harriet to jump. “Could they do it more gently,” she grumbles. A letter falls in front of both Hermione and Ron, unsurprisingly the pair usually got letters unlike herself and Harry who never received anything.

Turning back to her food, she passes no attention to the mail falling around her until a large, wrapped gift falls in front of her. Hermione looks up from her own letter, confusion on her own face.

“Who is that for?” she asks, standing up and leaning across to lift the tab on it. A smile paints her friend face.

“Harriet, its for you,” shock washes over her. Who on earth sent her something. Standing up herself, she takes the tab out of Hermione hand, seeing her name written plain as day, HARRIET MATTHEWS.

“Well go on then open it,” Harry tells her, both he and Ron were now standing. Hesitantly, she pulls at the lilac, fabric ribbon that was tied around the thin, white rectangular box. As the ribbon falls, she curls her fingers under the lid, pulling it upwards. Her heart jumps as she investigates the box, wrapped carefully was a bouquet of flowers.

“Wow, they’re…” she cuts off Hermione.

“Hyacinths. My favourite flower,” Ron raises his eyebrows and laughs.

“Well, you clearly have caught the eye of someone,” Harry nods.

“Yeah, but who?” carefully Harriet lifts the bouquet out, Harry and Hermione looking between the box and the ribbon that was tied around the stems of the flowers.

“Doesn’t say,” Hermione says as she leans up, looking at the flowers. “Do you have any idea who it could have been?” Harriet lost for words, shakes her head.

“No… no idea.”

“Well, he has to tell you soon, I mean he must like you enough to give you a big gesture like this,” Ron says as she sits down next to him, flowers still gripped in her hands.

“Yeah, maybe…” her voice trails off.

Harriet loved the quiet of the hallways as she strolled down them, rarely were they empty, no loud, chatting teens filling them, now it was just the occasional echo of frantic footsteps as students run because they are late to class. As she walks towards the girl’s bathroom a hand wraps around her forearm pulling her into a nook in the wall causing her to yelp in surprise.

“Shhh… its just me,” her body relaxes when she hears his voice.

“Oliver,” she groans in frustration, causing Oliver to smirk at her.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you,” she huffs, looking up him with a pout on her face. Oliver sighs leaning forward. “God, I’ve missed you,” before his lips are on hers. Harriet smiles into the kiss, wrapping her arms around her neck, his hands trailing down to her waist, gripping slightly. He pushes her further into the wall, causing her to groan, her hands moving to grab a handful of his hair giving it a slight tug, his mouth leaving hers as he groans at the sensation. “You are perfect,” he whispers. Harriet smirks, giving him a quick peck on the lips.

“You’re not too bad yourself, Mr anonymous,” Oliver huffs at the nickname before moving his head into the crook of her neck, his lips meeting the skin. A gasp leaves her mouth as he sucks. “Hyacinths? How did you know they were my favourite,” he pulls back looking at her with a smirk.

“You took a few back with you after our date a while back. Have been meaning to get you a bunch sooner just haven’t had time,” she smiles at this, a hand falls from his neck to caress one of his cheeks.

“And having them delivered in the mail? I thought we were keeping this between us for now,” Olivers hold on her loosens as he takes a step back from her, his eyebrows knitted together.

“I know that’s what we agreed on, its just…” he trails on, his hand coming to rub the back of his neck. “I want people to know about us,” that statement causes her to freeze.

“Oh,” is all she can say, her head falling to look at her feet. Oliver looks at the girl before him and he sighs.

“I’m sorry, I know you wanted to keep things private because of everything that happened with that ex of yours but…” leaning forward he takes her chin in between his fingers, pulling it so that her eyes meet his. “Sometimes when I am with you, I can’t believe how lucky I am to call you mine and I just… want to shout it from the rooftops,” Harriet giggles at this, a smile painting her face. “You are the most amazing person Harriet Matthews, I’m not like Peter, whatever that arses last name is,” Harriets head falls back as she laughs, her arms wrapping around his neck once again. “Unlike him, I don’t want to hide this, and as long as you are okay, I want to be able to hold your hand as we walk down the hallways, and kiss you whenever I want without the fear of someone catching us,” Harriet lifts an eyebrow, her smile turning into a smirk.

“Well… we might have to practice more PG type kissing, I don’t think everyone is going to want to see a lot of the stuff we do,” Oliver chuckles.

“So… are we done hiding?” Harriet looks into his eyes and her heart can’t help but melt. Oliver wasn’t ashamed of her, not like Peter, and it causes her to feel giddy.

“Yeah, we’re done hiding,” his lips meet her frantically, giggles leaving both of them as they move their hands around each other.

“You know, I would say that I have about 10 more minutes until McGonagall really starts to question where I am,” he chuckles.

“10 minutes… I can do a lot in that time,” his hands run up her thighs, trailing under her skirt causing her to moan.

“I know you can, so do it. Fuck me,” and who was he to argue with her.

“Look at them, its like they have already won,” Hermione looks over across at the Slytherins who all are standing, grinning like they have just found a pot of gold.

“Hermione they are Slytherins, what else do you expect,” Hermione nods her head.

“True. Well, I just mean that it will be all the more satisfying when we beat, they’re arses,” Harriet and Hermione look at each other and laugh.

“God, I love quidditch,” just then the trumpets start, and everyone starts standing up cheering. Hermione and Harriet grin standing up and cheering alongside them. One by one the teams start flying out, the cheers getting louder and louder.

“Also where were you earlier?” Hermione asks causing Harriet to lift her eyebrows.

“When?”

“Earlier on, you asked professor McGonagall to go to the loo, you must have been gone for 15 minutes,” Harriets heart stops as she remembers, Oliver saying that he wants to tell people, his fingers trailing down her, being inside of her and then his penis, how they used their mouth to muffle their cries of pleasure. Harriet feels herself warm up.

“Are you alright, you’ve gone really red,” Harriet clears her throat, loosening her scarf.

“Yeah, I’m fine, just got really hot there for second, think its just with everyone being around.”

“Do you need a minute, we can leave if you want,” Harriet shakes her head.

“No, I’ll be fine,” with that they’re attention turned to the game.

 They crushed them, absolutely crushed them, the Gryffindor’s were going absolutely mad, drowning out the boos of the Slytherins who all were giving out, being the sore losers that they were. Hermione and Harriet had massive grins on their faces as they run down to the teams changing room. “Oh, that was amazing, did you see the Slytherins faces. Oh, they were so mad,” Harriet bursts out laughing.

“Hermione I’m starting to think you are a bit of an evil minx,” they reach the Gryffindor tent, members pilling out, their faces euphoric. Harry and Ron come barrelling out spotting the girl, walking over.

“That was some game,” Ron says, taking off his hat.

“You can say that again, I didn’t know if they were trying to win or go for our blood that time,” Harry says shaking his head.

“They are Slytherins. They are always going out for our blood,” Harriet says causing the trio to nod, chuckling to themselves.

“Did you see how Oliver defended that goal, it was insane.”

“If he hadn’t stopped that from scoring, we would have lost.” Harry replies causing Ron to nod.

“Thank you, Oliver Wood,” Harriet smiles at that. Over Rons shoulder she sees Oliver coming out of the tent, they’re eyes meet. Oliver smiles at her, picking up pace and jogging towards her. Harriet grins, pushing past Ron. Harriet walks forward meeting Oliver who lifts her up into his arms, her legs wrapping around his waist as they hold onto each other, laughter coming from both of them.

“You did so good. That was the most amazing thing that I have ever seen,” Oliver laughs at that, bring her face before his.

“That I know is not true,” Harriet shakes her head, grinning.

“Top five,” she offers.

“Top ten,” Oliver offers causing Harriet to sigh.

“God you are insufferable,” she brings his lips to hers, wrapping her arms around his neck tightly bringing him as close as possible.

“Do you know…” Oliver mutters as they pull back. “I love you Harriet Matthews,” her heart explodes.

“And I love you Oliver Wood,” they couple kiss again. Letting the world around them fade away.

“What the bloody hell is happening?” well almost fade away.

[marypaol]

One With The Wind

Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Reader has a fear of heights and doesn’t understand what all the hype about flying around is about, until she asks Fred to show her.

Warnings: Playful teasing? Friends to “lovers”, Acrophobia (fear of heights), that’s all I know of.

Note: For the lovely @marriinachoo -I hope this was enough fluff for you! (And I hope you enjoy it- thanks again for requesting!!)

Masterlist

Request Requirments

“I still don’t understand how you guys do that.” The girl said while the two flaming haired boys discussed the famous Wizard game every boy and girl wanted to try (besides her.) Putting a spoonful of food into her mouth, she looked up at the two.

The red head in front of her raised an eyebrow in question, and the replica of him did the same, making her laugh.

“Do what?” George asked.

She waved her utensil in front of her as a way to gesture to the two twins.

“You know, climb on a stick and go into the air in intention of beating a ball to other students; potentially killing them.”

The two boys laughed in unison despite her seriousness, so much so you couldn’t tell the difference between them and their laughs. They both smiled wide, the noise of happiness filling her ears as she watched them. Their heads turning to each other, eyes meeting with a mirror image as they only chuckled harder when the other person made a funny face that set them off.

“First off, love, it’s a broomstick, and we’re Beaters. That’s our job: to beat the ball to the other team?” Fred explained with a teasing smile sitting on his lips.

George chuckled. “I thought you’d know that by now. You’ve been dealing with us since First Year.”

The girl rolled her eyes in response at their teasing words despite the blush threatening to rise on her cheeks from the nickname Fred gave her.

“Whatever it’s called, I don’t know why it gets you guys all riled up. I’d rather watch than fly, thank you very much.”

George shrugged her comment off and turned to Lee Jordan who grabbed his attention, but Fred raised his eyebrow at her. Not in a confused questioning way, but in a teasing manner.

“Really? Rather watch than fly? Blimey.”

The last word was murmured, his wild head trying to comprehend the fact that she would rather stand around a bunch of sweaty teenagers and young children than to feel the wind in her hair as the simple yet powerful excitement of completion roared through her veins.

She shrugged in response, finding nothing of it. “I mean, yeah, because I’m too scared to; I could never.”

Fred made a face. “Scared? To fly?”

She nodded sheepishly. “I mean I can’t name a thing that isn’t scary about it.”

Fred scoffed, and since they were at the end of the table, he quickly got up and swiftly moved next to her, their shoulders brushing.

“Nonsense. It’s very exciting, actually.” He assured gently. He then grabbed his plate from the other side of the table, his silverware now in his hands.

He continued to eat as if her fears were simply silly, something so small she was making so big.

She hesitated before asking for conformation. “Really? But you go so….high.” She fought back a shiver when she said the word but her heart failed, the organ in her chest seeming to stagger out of fear just from the thought.

Fred nodded and turned to her. “You do go pretty high, but when you’re playing the game you don’t really think much of it; you’re distracting yourself from the height by doing so.”

She hummed softly, mind taking what he said and turning it over so she could see all the angles.

“So… if I were to go up on a broom and distract myself, then I wouldn’t be as scared as I think I would be?”

Fred shrugged, moving his fork to her plate and stealing a piece of cut up chicken that was there.

“I mean, it might not work for you, ‘cause I don’t even have a thing of heights, but it works for me despite my absent fear.”

She thought about it for a moment. I mean, she trusted the twins; maybe even trusted one more than the other. (Fred.)

So it wasn’t that that was keeping her from asking, rather it was the deep fear of the biggest, most negative solution to come out of it. What if she fell to her death and never saw any of her friends again? She’s too young to die.

She blinked, realizing she was staring into space while thinking such negative thoughts.

Her blink must of re-set her brain, causing her head to turn towards the boy.

“C-could I try for myself and see?”

Fred coughed out pumpkin juice at the sudden question, his mind so used to the comfortable silence they fell into he didn’t expect her to talk again.

“What?” He rasped, patting his chest. She chuckled, picking up her napkin and giving it to him to wipe his mouth.

She watched him do so as she repeated the question.

When she did a small smirk formed on his lips.

“Sure.”

“Yeah, no, I change my mind.”

Fred laughed in the breeze, the noise blessing her ears.

“Come on, it was your choice and you’re in Gryffindor for a reason. Hop on.”

Fred was currently standing on the ground with the broomstick in between his legs, the sand on the Pitch almost covering his shoes.

She shifted, her stomach turning at the thought of leaving the ground but she followed his order despite, legs swinging over the stick and arms wrapping tightly around Fred’s waist.

Her cheeks flushed but she didn’t take the time to recognize it, her chest occupied with a squeezing sensation of fear.

“Ready?”

His voice broke out her fear, the soft question falling from his lips so effortlessly, like it was a bird with wings and claws, using them to take her fear and fly it off into the wind, never to be seen again.

Sadly the feeling of courage only lasts for a second because as soon as she nodded softly against his robes, his leg kicked off the sand and they were no longer on the ground.

She bit back a scream but some of it slipped, causing a small squeal to escape.

Fred chuckled but she didn’t hear it over the wind, instead feeling his body shake from the laughter.

“Open your eyes!”

She didn’t want to, but the trust for him was strong so her eyelids fluttered open, the broom coming to slow yet calming pace.

Her cheek was still pressed to his back, but her eyes scanned around her and she was met with the breathtaking view of Hogwarts, the building standing as strong as ever as the wind flooded her hearing.

Her mouth came agape at the sight, her head leaving his back as she turned to look at everything possible, leaving no angle unseen.

“Hey, hold on tight back there.”

She rolled her eyes even though her arms were wrapped around his waist so tight he was struggling to breathe she bet, but she still laid her head back down on his back.

His skin was warm through the fabric, and it wasn’t the reason for the deep flush on her cheeks, traveling to her neck.

“Rather watch than fly, huh?”

She threw her Quidditch uniform on the floor roughly, despite the background noise of Oliver yelling to put it on so they had time to get out there.

She used the precious time she had to walk an over and give Fred a well deserved slap on the arm, his beautiful laughter once more filling her ears.

-I hoped you liked it! 💕🥺

[isaacarellanesismyhusband]

i love that you draw me

pair: Fred Weasley x reader

requested by anonymous and anonymous

heyyyyy :)))Could you do a Fred x Fem! Reader? where the reader is an artist like absolutely amazing . and she does art all the time whether it’s just doodling on an assignment or full blown masterpieces? And she’s not popular but well known? and Fred knew her, as in they only talked in passing. And one day in class he had seen her doodle on her paper and was like ‘woaaahh that’s super good!’ And she was just like ‘oh this isn’t anything. It’s not as good as my other stuff’ And Fred is rlly interested in art, but wouldn’t pick up a pencil or quill to draw because he knows he’s not rlly good. But he loves to watch y/n draw and paint. and like he’d save up for Christmas to buy her some supplies. Nothing much but she thought it was so sweet. She would make him little drawing, whether it be him in class or playing quidditch. He was her muse, and he absolutely loved it

Heyy, Could you do a Fred x artist reader? 🥺🥺

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Fred Weasley had always been aware of you, the girl who spent more time doodling on the corners of her assignments than paying attention to the lessons. You weren’t exactly popular, but everyone knew you for your art. Whether it was a quick sketch on parchment or a painting hanging in the common room, your talent stood out.

He’d never really spoken to you beyond a casual “hello” in the halls or a shared joke in passing. But one day during class, Fred found himself sitting near you, close enough to glance over and see what you were doing. The professor was droning on about something Fred couldn’t care less about, but you? You were completely absorbed in your sketch, your quill flying over the parchment in swift, graceful strokes.

Fred leaned over slightly, trying not to be too obvious. His eyes widened at the intricate design you were creating, the way your hand seemed to bring something to life with ease. “Whoa, that’s amazing,” he said before he could stop himself.

You looked up, a bit surprised but not embarrassed. You just shrugged, glancing down at the doodle like it wasn’t anything special. “Oh, this? It’s nothing,” you said casually, “Not as good as my other stuff.”

Fred was floored. If that wasn’t impressive to you, he couldn’t imagine what your “real” art looked like. He watched as you absentmindedly added more detail to the drawing, almost like it was second nature. “Well, if this is ‘nothing,’ I’d love to see what your other stuff looks like.”

You smiled a little, the corners of your lips turning up in a way that made Fred’s heart skip a beat. “Maybe one day I’ll show you.”

From that day on, Fred became fascinated by you and your art. He’d find himself looking for you in the common room or during meals, always hoping to catch you in the middle of a sketch or painting. He loved the way you got so lost in your work, your brow furrowing in concentration, your fingers smudged with ink or paint. Sometimes, he’d sit beside you quietly, just watching, completely mesmerized by how easily you created something out of nothing.

Fred wasn’t much of an artist himself—he could barely draw a stick figure without it looking ridiculous—but that didn’t stop him from admiring your talent. You seemed to love the fact that he enjoyed watching you work. Sometimes, you’d even talk while you drew, explaining what you were thinking, how a certain line could change the whole feel of a piece.

It didn’t take long for Fred to start saving up for something special. Christmas was coming, and he wanted to get you something that showed just how much he appreciated your art. He wasn’t sure what to get at first, but after sneaking a few glances at your supplies and asking around, he finally decided on a small set of high-quality inks and a couple of sketching quills.

On Christmas morning, you were surprised when Fred handed you a small, neatly wrapped package. You weren’t expecting anything from him, but the second you opened it, your eyes lit up. “Fred, this is... this is amazing!” you said, clearly touched.

Fred rubbed the back of his neck, trying to play it cool even though his heart was pounding. “It’s not much, just thought you could use some new supplies.”

You smiled so warmly that Fred felt his chest tighten. “It’s perfect,” you said softly. “Thank you.”

After that, you started making little drawings for him. Nothing big—just quick sketches of him sitting in class, or playing Quidditch, or laughing with George. You’d hand them to him casually, as if they were nothing, but Fred treasured each one. He loved the way you saw him, how your art captured moments that he didn’t even realize were special.

He became your muse, and it felt right. Every time you handed him a new drawing, Fred felt this strange mixture of pride and awe. You saw something in him, something worth putting on paper, and he loved it.

One evening, as you sat together in the common room, you were finishing a sketch of him mid-laugh. Fred watched you closely, the firelight flickering across your face as you worked. “You know,” he said quietly, “I love that you draw me.”

You looked up, a bit surprised. “You do?”

Fred nodded, a soft smile tugging at his lips. “Yeah, I do. I may not be good with a quill, but I love seeing myself through your eyes.”

You blushed, but the smile on your face showed just how much his words meant to you. And as you handed him yet another sketch—a simple, heartfelt portrait of him leaning against the Quidditch stands—Fred knew he’d keep every single one forever.

[lulublack90]

Prompt 28 - Coach

@wolfstarmicrofic August 28, word count 433

“Okay Harry, ease up on your descent. Perfect! Well done!” Sirius cheered Harry on. He was only six, but already he was flying loops around the rest of the Weasley kids. “Alright George, Fred, I’m releasing a bludger, be careful of the little ones!” He warned, flicking the release on the rattling bludger ball. It shot into the air and straight for Ginny, who had the quaffle. Fred shot in front of her and hit the bludger across the pitch. “Excellent Fred. Right Ginny, let’s see you get the quaffle past Bill.” He watched as the tiny five-year-old slowly headed towards the goal on her first broomstick. She wobbled a bit but lined up her shot and threw it. Bill kindly flew to the wrong hoop and Ginny scored. She squealed with joy and turned to look at Sirius. 

“Did you see Uncle Sirius?!” She shouted excitedly. 

“Yes, I did. Well done Ginny!” he beamed at her.

“YAY!” Harry whooped as he swooped past Sirius, his little hand clutching the snitch. A disgruntled Charlie landed next to him. 

“Is that thing rigged for him to catch it or am I actually losing to a six-year-old?” He asked grumpily. 

“Charlie my little mischief-maker, you are actually losing to a six-year-old,” He chuckled fondly, ruffling Charlie’s hair. The redhead shook his head and got back on his broom to circle high above. 

“How’s it going, coach?” Remus whispered in his ear, making him jump. He hadn’t heard him approaching. 

“Oh, just fine. I think in a few years we might have an actual legit quidditch team here,” He looked out at the Weasley kids and Harry. Bill now had Ron in goal and was telling him what to do as Ginny came nearer with the quaffle raised. But he missed what happened next because Harry came shooting over on his broom, jumped off it mid-flight, hung on to it with one hand and let his momentum carry him into Sirius’s waiting hands. “You’ll be the death of me, Harry James Potter,” He yelped as he pulled his godson in close. The little boy just giggled.

“Hi Uncle Moony,” He waved at Remus. 

“Hello, Harry. Are you annoying Charlie again?”

“Yes!” Harry replied with a wicked grin. He wiggled in Sirius’s arms to be put down, hopped on his broom and shot off again.

Remus stood behind Sirius, wrapped his arms around his waist and rested his chin on the top of Sirius’s head. Sirius sighed happily as they watched the seven children racing around the field behind the Burrow having the time of their lives. 

[fictionalcharactersaremypassion]

Bailing Out The Brother-In-Law

It's not important to the story but Ian and Mickey are in their apartment

///

Ian’s cell phone was buzzing. 

The fucker just had to leave his brightness up on high so now it lit up the whole damn room. Being a light sleeper, it woke Mickey up almost immediately, grumbling as soon as he was semi coherent and figured out what it was. 

“Ian.” There was no answer. His husband slept soundly beside him. “Fuck, man. Answer the damn phone.” 

He was out like a light, these new meds he was put on the other day really hitting him hard with the drowsiness. When the buzz stopped, the light went out. Mickey relaxed. Least he wouldn’t have to get outta the bed to check. S’probably nothing anyway. Ian was in that stupid Gallagher group chat that Mickey was also technically included in but he’d frequently take himself out of. 

But then it lit up again, this time it was a text. 

“Jesus Christ,” Mickey threw his blanket off, stalking around the side of the bed to read it. They didn’t make it a habit of using each other’s phones but they knew the passwords incase of an emergency or whatnot. 

The missed call was the first notification that popped up. Mickey’s interest rose, his eyebrows flying up to his hairline. He was very familiar with that number- it was the local jail. 

As for the text or rather texts, Tami spammed Ian’s cell with five messages. She was at home with baby Fred and didn’t want to wake him up after he’d been so difficult to put down for the night. She added that Lip got himself arrested somehow and if Ian would go bail him out using the money she sent him, she’d appreciate it. 

With his sleep-addled brain, Mickey took this all in. Now, he could have woken Ian up, made him go out there in the middle of the night to fetch his dumbass brother and go back to bed for some much needed sleep. 

A smirk grew on Mickey’s face. 

But that would have been too fucking good of an opportunity to waste. 

*

Mickey threw on a pair of jeans and a zip-up jacket. He slipped some shoes on, wrote a note for his husband should he wake up before he returned and out the door he went. 

It was different to be in the ambulance without Ian. The radio was on to give him some noise but it was nothing like his husband, who filled any and all silence with useless facts or innuendos or other goofy ass shit. 

At least the traffic was light this time of night.

As he sat at a red light, Mickey wondered what the boy-genius had done to get himself arrested. He didn’t have the guts to do the hardcore stuff, even though he’d disagree and go off to sulk like a little bitch. Mickey knew what he was talking about. Hell, he wouldn’t have believed that floppy-haired, doe eyed, all American boy scout looking kid Ian had been at fifteen woulda gone to prison and lasted. 

Because Mickey wasn’t a dumbass himself, he didn’t park the stolen ambulance in front of the police station. He was a block or so down, walking the rest of the way. 

“Ay,” he said to the front clerk when he got inside. “I’m here for Lip- Phillip Gallagher.” 

“Okay,” the chick at the desk said. She typed into a computer, pulling up a file. “He has a bail of two thousand dollars. Are you able to pay that now?”

Mickey held a comment on that, his curiosity mounting because of the amount. The fuck did Lip do? “Yeah,” he handed over Ian’s card, his hand shoved back down into his jeans pocket. 

When it was all done and processed, he was given a receipt to take back. Had to go through the metal decor too, reminded him that it was a damn good thing he’d taken his knife outta his jacket pocket yesterday so the thing could be washed. 

“He’s through these doors,” an officer came to escort him. 

“Yeah, okay,” Mickey then had an idea. “Ay, can I have a few minutes with him before you release him?” 

“Knock yourself out,” the officer didn’t object. He led Mickey through the doors, directed him to where Lip’s holding cell was and then went to sit back down. “Just tell me when you’re done.” 

“‘Kay,” Mickey saw his brother-in-law sitting down on the bench, eyes closed, head leaning back against the wall. Whatever happened, he didn’t look to ruffled, just fucking tired. “Well, well, well,” he drawled. Lip’s head whipped around to face him, and he groaned loudly. “Look like what we have here. Didn’t think I’d be seeing you on the other side, Phillip.” 

“What are you doing here?” Lip was back on his feet, standing right at the bars. “I asked for Ian to come.” 

“And you’re out of luck. He’s sleepin’.” 

“Great,” Lip grumbled. 

Mickey smirked. “How’s it like in there? Anybody made you their bitch yet?” 

Lip wasn’t amused. “I’ve been in this cell the whole time, Mickey. I haven’t seen anyone else.” Then it seemed to register to him what’d been said. “Hold the fuck up. What makes you think I’d be anyone’s bitch?” 

This was too fucking funny to Mickey. He snorted. “Like you’d be takin’ anybody down. They’d have your college ass before you could start shootin’ out useless shit like you always do.” 

“Fuck you.” 

“Think Ian would object to that,” a devilish grin grew on Mickey’s face. “He railed me for hours last night.” 

As predicted, Lip was disgusted. “I don’t want to hear about your sex life, Mickey.” 

“Ain’t like you got anything else to do,” Mickey shrugged. 

Lip’s scowl that appeared suddenly vanished, but he was still visibly annoyed. “Wait a minute. Where’s the guy that’s supposed to let me out? You paid for the bail, right?” 

Mickey was deliberately silent, arching his brow. Lip asked more aggressively, 

“Right?” 

Mickey chose not to say anything just to fuck with him. 

“Mickey, I swear to God-” 

“Take the tampon out of your ass and chill your fucking tits, man. I did the damn thing.”

Lip was still glaring at him. “Then why hasn’t anyone released me yet?” 

His question was ignored. “You gonna explain what you did to get yourself thrown in here?” 

“It’s not important,” Lip muttered, averting his gaze. 

“Whatever, man. I got all night.” 

“No, you don’t,” Lip tried to argue. “Ian-” 

“-can be on his own for a while,” Mickey finished. 

Lip was frustrated. “Fuck, why can’t you just get me out of here? I told Tami I’d be back soon.” 

“Your baby mama will understand,” Mickey said uncaringly. “Just tell me what ya did and I’ll tell the guy to get you out.” 

“You don’t even care!” Lip exclaimed. 

“I do when I get to see self-righteous ass finally get put in your place,” Mickey said smugly.  

Lip looked to be two seconds away from tearing his own hair out. 

Personally, Mickey would pay to see it. 

Resigned to the fact that he wasn’t getting out there anytime soon, at least without giving in to Mickey’s demand, he sighed. “I met a guy online-” 

“I fucking knew that ninety-six percent straight was bullshit!  Good for Tami, though. Always thought she could do better than you.” 

Lip gave Mickey a withering look. “He’s part of some neighborhood group for parents, helping them get supplies and shit.” 

“And?” 

“We started talking because Fred’s going through diapers faster than Tami and I can buy. The guy said he could get us a few boxes.Should’ve known they were stolen.” He sighed. “He told me where to go to get them, cops came and he ran so they arrested me.”

“That’s gotta be the stupidest fucking thing to get arrested for.”

“I know,” Lip said shortly. He dragged a hand down his face. “I’ve always been able to spot scams. I don’t know what happened.” 

Nobody spoke for a moment. 

“Not surprised it was you, though.” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Lip said sharply. 

 Mickey shrugged. “Figured it wasn’t anything hardcore, you know?” 

“It could’ve been.” There was a touch of defensiveness to Lip’s voice. Riling up his brother-in-law was a favorite pastime of his. Ian had long learned to stop trying to get him to quit doing it. 

“Nah, man,” Mickey said dismissively. “You ain’t cut out for that shit.” 

“You don’t get to decide that!” Lip was getting angry. Fuck, this was too easy. 

“Boo fucking hoo. Go cry to your baby mama.” 

“Well, maybe I would if I wasn’t fucking stuck here!” 

“Probably got a point there,” Mickey said nonchalantly. 

Lip looked murderous. “Mickey, go get someone to let me out.” 

“Hang on a sec,” Mickey took out his phone, snapping a quick picture. He showed Lip just to be a little shit. “Ay, see. That’s group chat worthy. Not you askin’ bout shit nobody cares about.” 

“Don’t send that-” 

“Too late,” Mickey said with a grin. 

Lip clenched his jaw. 

His phone pinged. Mickey glanced at it. “Your beard wants to know if you’re coming home soon.” 

“Well, I’d like to know that too - Tami’s not my beard!” 

“Whatever,” Mickey shrugged. “I don’t give a shit. I’m gonna go take a piss. Wait here.” 

He snickered to himself after that last part. 

“I’m gonna fucking kill you for this, Mickey!” Lip shouted as he strolled away. He smiled sheepishly when a couple of officers looked his way, quickly looking as far as he could see but by that point, Mickey was no longer in sight. “Mickey, get back here! I swear to God....”

[darks-lair]

Xaragaard lives rent free in my head

So, in my au, they both met when they were in their 20s and Ellegaard left home for another city in order to continue her studies.

In order to get there, she had to use an incredibly high tech railroad, on which she eventually encountered a bunch of creepers, who blew up the minecarts with Ellegaard in them, sending her flying thousands of blocks down. However, Xara was nearby at the time and managed to catch Ellegaard before she hit the ground. At that moment, she felt something. She asked if Xara was the genius engineer who built the railroad, and after hearing a yes, she began being overly apologetic and suggesting to repair the damage, at which Xara only answered "no need". She snapped her fingers, and the railroad was as good as new.

Xara turned around, looked at Ellegaard one last time, and disappeared right after saying "be careful".

Ellegaard did arrive at her destination eventually, and managed to continue her studies for a year, but Xara never really left her thoughts. Not being familiar with the concept of admins, Ellegaard sometimes was wondering if this was all a dream. If she did really fall out of the minecart and hit the ground, leaving her unconscious for some time.

It was untill she was heading back home for holidays through another railroad connection, from which she caught a glimpse of the Osasis, and Xara floating above one of the buildings. Then, she had to put everything else on hold and go investigate. At least get to know her name. At least thank her for saving her life.

In the Oasis, she stumbles upon Romeo and Fred, who reveal the mysterious flying lady to be Xara, and also informing her that there is currently a competition running between best redstone engineers in the city. The winner gets to be Xara's assistant. Ellegaard takes her chance.