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Freddy

@fredric4

I'm usually reblogging reader inserts 😂💀
(she/her)
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angelfic

— THE WAY I LOVED YOU

pairing: theodore nott x reader

summary: in which theodore nott will do anything to get you to go out with him, but you’re just as stubborn rejecting him

warnings: swearing, kissing, dangerous stunts and theo being stupid (ryan gosling in the notebook style), unedited since i wrote this in the middle of the night on no sleep again lol. enemies to lovers if you squint a bit

author’s note: since everyone loves theo i’ll pretend this isn’t just for my own selfish needs <3 (especially the notebook reference) also surprise surprise mc is a gryffindor as always, you’d never know i was a slytherin my bad guys… as always let me know what u think! enjoy, angels 💌

The first time Theodore Nott asks you out, you spill a pot of ink directly into his lap.

It’s not like you meant to do it. But when there’s a Transfiguration worksheet to be getting on with, the Slytherin boy seated next to you by Professor McGonagall asking you out would surely take anyone by surprise.

The second you twist in your seat to look at him in shock, your arm slides the pot right off the desk and directly onto his grey trousers, instantly staining them with the black liquid before you have a chance to speak.

Your hands fly to your mouth to stifle your gasp and you look up at him, anticipating an angry glare in return. Instead, he looks mildly surprised at the ever-growing stain on his crotch, but mostly… amused?

“A simple ‘no’ would have sufficed, darling,” he says, raising an eyebrow and suppressing a smile.

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luv4freddie

Polaroid Love - F.W

Fred goes to work with his father and comes home with a muggle Polaroid camera, deciding the best use of it would be to take horrendous pictures of his girlfriend.

  • Fred x fem!Muggleborn reader, established relationship, reader gets red, house and age not specific, tooth rotting fluff bc I love lovesick Fred, 1.2 k words

Being a muggleborn at the Weasley household was an experience, to say the least.

In the last week since you’ve been at the Burrow, you’ve explained what rubber ducks are for, how to operate a microwave, and Pythagorean theorem.

Today Aurthur took the boys to work with him, so you were currently helping Molly cook dinner.

You had yet to understand the witchy way of cooking, so you were stuck mixing a bowl by hand while Molly sent knives, pots, and pasta flying all across the room.

You ducked a flying cutting board right as the group of rowdy boys entered the front door, your boyfriends voice in particular carrying over the noise of clattering dish ware.

“Honey, we’re home.” Aurthur calls, and Molly meets them all at the door, asking you to ‘keep an eye on’ the multitude of activity in the kitchen.

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Anonymous asked:

hello! I hope you’re doing good! I would like to request a fic with tasm!peter parker or james potter if you prefer, but something where they’re making out and the reader ends up breaking his glasses? If that makes sense🫣

hi, my darling, i’m am doing very well! thank you for requesting, that makes complete sense! I’m totally watching tasm again after writing this <3

cw: fem!reader, making out, slightly suggestive (but not really), aunt may walking in, established relationship, fluff, 1.2k

<3

Peter’s mouth is on your neck while the bridge of his glasses rubs against the skin just an inch higher than his mouth. His hands stay firmly planted on your hips as you sit in his lap on his swivel chair. Your textbook and computer lay abandoned next to his on his desk in front of you.

“Peter, I have to study,” you mumble, but the sigh that escapes your lips makes your excuse less believable, “We have to study.” you add, trying you best to get yourself and peter back on track for a big exam tomorrow. Crazy for Peter or not, this test is important and you need to get a little studying in, but you can’t get Peter to keep his hands off you.

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moonstruckme
Anonymous asked:

can i request steve, sirius, or peter — whichever you’d like — with a high! reader :3 just all lovey and dovey and snuggly together

Thanks for requesting!

cw: weed

tasm!Peter Parker x fem!reader ♡ 687 words

You’ve become engrossed by Peter’s wrist. The two of you are only watching this show because you’d asked for it, but you’re not paying it any attention now. You trail your index finger lightly over the veins underneath his palm, then reverse course, letting the flat of your nail bump back over them. When you dip your head and start kissing it, slow, soft presses of your wet mouth, Peter laughs. 

“What…” His voice comes out breathy, mystified. “What are you doing?” 

“Adoring you.” You turn your face so your cheek is pressed against his inner wrist and his hand cups your head, looking up at him with red eyes. Peter’s grin widens; your pupils are ginormous. He doubts his are much better. “You’re welcome.” 

“Yeah? Can I do that too?” He uses his free hand to take a big handful of your thigh, giving it a squeeze. 

A little smile plays on your lips, but you shake your head, sitting up and getting into his lap. “M’not coming onto you, Parker,” you say. “My love is pure.” 

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biblio-smia

excuse me, could i get a picture?

pairing: (tasm!) peter parker x gender neutral reader

summary: "hey, i'm a street photographer, could i take your picture?"

warning i wrote 80% of this half-asleep

Saturdays were reserved for coffees and walks to get breakfast. They were reserved for earbuds in your ears, music blasting as your feet rushed through busy intersections. Although Saturdays were reserved for yourself, that didn't stop New York from moving around you.

"Excuse me!" You thought you heard, but the voice was barely audible over the music in your ears; plus, there was no reason for anyone to be talking to you.

The rush of footsteps behind you made your footfall slow in confusion, and a gentle tap on your shoulder made you spin.

"Sorry," a boy began, and you let him keep speaking as you looked at him.

He was tall, cozy in double jackets with a large camera hanging around his neck. He had brown hair and warm brown eyes to match, looking at you with a polite smile and his phone in his hand, pointing down towards the ground.

"Hi, uh, I'm sorry to bother you," he spoke awkwardly, shifting from foot to foot and doing his best to look at your face. "I'm uh, a photographer -" and the way he said it made you smile, like the word was too serious for an unserious person. "And I was wondering if I could... take photos of you?" He finished with a tilt of his head and a shy smile.

Oh, he was cute.

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mayfieldss
Lessons in chemistry - Peter Parker

Synopsis: Your best friend Peter tries to teach you how to skateboard, but distractions occur.

AN: it's one in the morning, and I gave in to the delusions. They have taken me in as one of their own, and they said they would let me go if i posted this.

"You gotta trust me, okay?" Peter's got one foot on the skateboard, holding it steady as you stand a fair distance away, hesitant and unsure why you agreed to this particular day.

Peter had offered to teach you to skateboard, and while the offer seemed perfectly reasonable and fun at the time, being here now was an entirely different story. You were beyond clumsy and hopeless when it came to learning new things. Peter knew this, yet he seemed so certain you could do this one activity.

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Anonymous asked:

Could I request a fic where tasm!Peter Parker finds the reader crying in a bathroom at a party because their date stood them up (maybe their date only asked them out bc of a bet or smth) and he comforts them?

Coffee at Midnight

Thank you for the request! I did get a bit carried away while writing this and changed and added some things. As far as warnings go: unrequited love (not really), friends to lovers, Gwen is alive because she’s my baby and I said so, asshole!oc, violence (one punch), and a few swears.

masterlist

Your eyes are pooling with tears, you tilt your head back in an attempt to stop them from rolling down your face. The only thing you want is for the ground to open up and swallow you whole. 

If you had just listened to Peter you wouldn't be in this situation, you wouldn't be feeling like this. Your eyes well up even more at the thought of him. 

You met Peter in your sophomore year, you were in the library cramming at the last minute for a final, and he was the boy two tables over who was repeatedly clicking his pen while trying to finish his paper. 

It was safe to say you were at your wit's end, and from the look on his face, so was he. You remember packing up your things and slinging your bag over your shoulder before walking over to him. 

"Hi, I'm Y/n. I don't mean to bother you but I'm taking a break from studying and going to get some coffee. You seem like you could use one too, would you like to join me? Or could I bring you back something?" 

You remember already heading to the exit muttering an apology immediately after the words left your mouth, convinced that you were disturbing him. But when the sound of the chair scraping against the floor and his voice asking you to wait filled the room you came to a halt and glance back at him, watching as he hastily shoved his belongings in his backpack and met you at the door. 

"I'm Peter and I could use a break. I was seconds away from putting my head through a wall."

And that was it, one fifteen-minute coffee break (that was definitely needed) was all it took for you two to become friends, that night you two headed back to the library sitting together instead of apart, he quizzed you on the topics you knew were going to be on final, and you helped him finish his paper.

Over two years had passed since then and you two were thick as thieves. You got along great, too great. 

The two of you spent a lot of time together, time that caused you to realize that you didn't want him to be just a friend. 

But you knew Peter only viewed you in a platonic light, having told you about Gwen, his high school girlfriend who was studying abroad, and their on and off long-distance relationship. He loved her, not you. 

You decided that dating around would be the best way to squash your feelings for him. Which is how you ended up going out with Sam. 

Sam was a senior at ESU just like you and Peter. He introduced himself to you earlier this semester after running into you and a fellow classmate, his friend, on your way to take the train. A handful of encounters with him followed until he asked you out. 

To say you were hesitant to say yes to him was an understatement, especially when Peter was in your ear telling you that Sam didn't seem like the most trustworthy person. However, despite your uncertainty and Peter's concerns, you agreed to go on a date with Sam. 

The first date went well. He was a gentleman, he got to the restaurant early, bought a bouquet, pulled out your chair, paid for your meals, and waited with you while your cab came. You really enjoyed your date with him, so much so that you even kissed him on the cheek and asked when you could see him again. 

So your dates continued, and you found yourself growing extremely fond of Sam, much to Peter's dismay. It didn't matter what you said about your dates going well and Sam being a nice guy, he wasn't buying any of it. 

But his concerns continued to fall on deaf ears. Until you both had reached a breaking point, resulting in an argument earlier in the day at your apartment. 

"You don't even know Sam," you hissed at him.

"Oh, like you do? You went on three dates with him. You hardly know him," Peter countered. 

"The entire point of going on dates is for us to get to know each other, he hasn't said or done anything worthy of a red flag. Just because you think he's not trustworthy doesn't mean he actually is." 

"I don't need to know him personally to see that he isn't the nice guy you think he is. You are the people you surround yourself with, and if you opened your eyes and saw all the assholes he associates himself with you'd realize that's just as bad as them." 

You open your mouth to reply but he continues speaking, "And honestly if you can't see that or worse are turning a blind eye to it you're just as bad as them. He's going to break your heart, and when he does I'm not going to give you a shoulder to cry on, because I've said my peace. You do what you want." There was nothing you could say in response because he was already out the door. 

You weren't sure if Peter meant what he said, or not. You wanted to believe it was just his frustrations talking. And with that you put on a tall face as you also leave and head to the party Sam and his friends were throwing, choosing to ignore the ache in your chest from Peter leaving like that, telling yourself that it's better to give him some room to cool down before speaking to each other

Music is blaring through the speakers when you walk in, so loud you can feel the floor vibrate. You do a scan of the living room in search of Sam, walking further into the party when you don't see him. You were nearing the kitchen when you heard him. His voice was booming as he tried to talk over the music. 

"Yeah, she's supposed to be here tonight." 

"I can't believe she hasn't let you hit yet," a voice, presumably one of his friends says. 

"Neither can I. I tried to woo her on the first date, got her flowers, paid, and waited afterwards for her ride, thinking she'd ask me to go back to her place with her. I thought I'd be having my dick sucked at the end of the night. All I got was a fucking kiss on the cheek."

"Why'd you go on more dates then? If she didn't fuck you the first time around," another voice adds.

"I'll wear her down. Right now I'm the sweet guy. She likes me, it's only a matter of time before I have her bent over a table. Man, with a body like that? The chase will be worth it, I'm thinking tonight is the night too." 

There are a few seconds between the end of the current song and the start of the next, seconds in which you hear them collectively decide to leave the kitchen, and seconds that you used to maneuver through the crowd and into the bathroom. 

And here you are, staring at the ceiling trying to fight back the tears that are threatening to roll down your face, rocking back and forth on your heels in an attempt to soothe yourself. 

You wanted to get out, to call Peter and say you're sorry, but you don't. 

What if he's still upset with you? What if he was being serious about not going to him when things go south? How hard would it be for you to slip out of the party without being spotted by Sam or his friends? They didn't even see you come in.

The knock on the door interrupts your train of thought. "Just a minute," you say. 

"Y/n, it's me, open up." 

You open the door a crack to see him, "Peter?"

His hand moves to push the door open further, just enough for him to squeeze through and shut it behind him, "Are you okay?" He asks, cupping your cheeks to inspect your face.

You want to lean into his touch, and he thinks you will when you put your hands over his, but you only do so to pull them away. "I'm okay, I'm sorry I didn't listen to you." You take the opportunity to apologize. "I was feeling a little overwhelmed and needed to be alone, to collect my thoughts. I'm alright now. Probably just going to go home now." 

"Oh, okay. I could walk you." He said fiddling with his hand unsure of what to do with them now. "Only if you want me to, of course." 

You only nod your head in response. With Peter here, you felt better, leaving the party and being seen no longer made you as anxious as it once did.

The two of you exit the bathroom, Peter's hand on your back as you move through the crowd with ease. You start to believe that you just overthink leaving, you couldn't see Sam or any of his friends. 

However, just because you could see them, doesn't mean they can't see you. Something you realized as you heard a voice shout over the music, "Are you fucking kidding me?" People turn in the direction of the voice, yourself and Peter included. Your eyes widen as Sam comes into view, pushing his way past people to get to you. 

"I invite you to this party, I take you on dates, and you're leaving with another guy? You're such a bitch." He spat out. 

You were about to speak but Peter is quick to jump to your defense. "Don't fucking talk to her like that." 

Sam gets in Peter's face, "I can do what the fuck I want, all she's done is waste my time, she owes me." 

Peter pushes him, "She doesn't owe you shit, if she wants to leave, she can." 

"Don't fucking touch me," Sam says, pushing him back. "If you want to fuck her, just wait till I'm done, I worked too hard just to be turned down." 

Everything was happening fast, but Peter's fist connecting with Sam's jaw happened even faster, mumbling to him about "watching his fucking mouth." 

He doesn't give Sam the opportunity to react or retaliate, he simply takes your hand in his and leads you out. 

A silence falls over the both of you as you walk, only to be broken as you wait for the light on the crosswalk to change. "Thank you for looking out for me." He gives your hand three squeezes, "Y/n, I" he starts, only to stop himself, it's clear he's trying to carefully craft his next words.

"You deserve someone who's actually a good person, not some asshole who pretends to be just to get laid. You could do so much better than that guy. What did you even see in him?" 

You sigh and hang your head, before admitting, "I'm just trying to get over someone. He was nice and cute, I figured a few dates wouldn't hurt. Obviously, that was exactly what he wanted to happen, and I played into it. He wasn't wrong about me wasting his time, I did, I was wasting mine as well. I knew I didn't really like him, but I figured if I spent more time with him I would."

"You're getting over someone?" You can feel him staring at you, waiting for your reply. "Yeah, it's a one-sided thing." 

"Oh, so you told him?"

"No, he-" 

"Well, then how do you know it's one-sided if he doesn't know?" 

The light flickers from the red hand to the walking person and you begin to cross the road, pulling him along with you, "He has someone, someone he loves. There's no point in saying anything. It'll only make things weird." 

"Understandable…how come you never said anything about him?" 

"Why would I? Discussing a crush makes it even more real. I would like to keep all those feelings right here and hope it goes away." You use your free hand to poke yourself in the chest. 

"I'm getting over someone too, at least trying to," he confesses. 

"You and Gwen broke up again?"

"Gwen and I haven't been together since winter break of last year. We broke up for good then. We’re still friends. But our relationship ran its course." 

You were puzzled, you could have sworn they were still a thing. You remember him talking on the phone with her the other day, his smile was beaming while they spoke.

"What?" You stopped walking, bringing him to a halt as well. "You were literally blushing and giggling on the phone with her the other day." 

"She knows about the girl. She's the one that made me realize actually." 

"Oh," you were genuinely surprised at this. 

"Oh, indeed. We had made plans to meet up during the break and I just talked about her to Gwen. It was so bad. At some point she cut me off and was like 'You like her' and I tried to deny it because that's what I thought the truth was but she didn't hesitate to call me out on my shit." He motions his head to the side, silently asking for you to keep walking. 

"There were no hard feelings or anything like that. I'll always love her, she's my first love after all, but it's different, I only love her as a friend now," he continued. 

"That's actually really nice, but I don't expect anything less from Gwen. She's a gem. Have you told the girl about how you feel?" 

Peter shakes his head, "That's what we were talking about on the phone; how to tell her. There have been a few times where I was going to but I always chicken out in the end." 

"I didn't realize Spider-Man was a scaredy cat." You tease. 

"Hey!"

"Oh hush, you've stood toe to toe with the most heinous people but you can't tell a girl you like her? The worst thing she can say is no." 

"It's not the same. The worst those people can do is kill me, that's fine. But being rejected by her? The idea alone makes me want to die."

"Tell me about her." You wanted to know. If Gwen was no longer in the picture, romantically, then you wondered who it could be. You want it to be you, you hope it is. Encouraging him to talk about her would either back the idea that he likes you, or you'd be able to rule yourself out. 

"She's amazing, she's smart and pretty, so caring, that's actually how we met." 

"It is?" 

He hums and starts to swing your hands back and forth, "In the library a few years ago. It was just the two of us, she came over to the table I was at and told me she was going to get coffee, and asked if I wanted to join or if she could bring something back for me. Can you believe that? Total stranger, trying to save the both of us from burning out." 

Your smile grows as he finishes, "Wow, what a strange coincidence, that's exactly how I met my guy." His shoulders relax and he lets out a sigh of relief, "Oh thank god. I'm your guy?"

"You are." You look away when you say this. 

"You went out with that dickhead because you thought I didn't like you? I like you so much, too much even!" He exclaimed. 

"You had a girlfriend, at least I thought you did. You don't tell a guy you have feelings for him while he's in a relationship. Moving on was the best option. Saying something would have made things weird or worse, you'd stop being my friend. I value you and our friendship too much to risk losing it." 

This time it was Peter who stopped walking, "I felt the same way, you mean so much to me. I was afraid that saying something would fuck up everything. Gwen was hyping me up to finally ask you out, then Sam happened and I didn't sweat it at first. But then you continued to see him and my confidence dipped." 

You let go of his hand, moving both your hands to cup his face, "Can I kiss you?" You asked. 

Peter smiles and nods his head, "Please." 

You shut your eyes and lean in, your lips capturing his. You can feel Peter grin into the kiss. His hands circle around your waist, fingertips slipping under your shirt and brushing against your skin as he pulls you closer, deepening your kiss. A fuzzy feeling fills your body when he does so. 

You pull away to look at him, you can feel your heart swell at the blush spreading across his cheeks. 

"Y/n?" You only hum in response, "I know it’s already midnight and this isn't exactly how I planned on asking you out, but that coffee shop we went to the night we met is a few blocks away…and if you'd let me, I'd love to buy you a cup of coffee and one of those pastries you like." 

There's a twinkle in your eyes that tells him your answer before you even say it. "I'd like that very much." 

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Anonymous asked:

taylor swift song request lesgooo!!! end game from reputation where y/n has a really big reputation as a 'bad girl' and peter (good boy loml) ends up tutoring her, and sees she isn't all bad...

first off, i am so sorry this took so long, you may not even be on my page anymore, but this struck something in me & i couldn't stop.

second, i switched up the request a little because if you listen to the song, (in a non snooty way lmao) taylor is the one expressing she wants to be with this person but she has a bad repuation and everyone's heard about it, and it's a lot to commit to because of the talk surrounding her.

---------

Everyone had it wrong. 

You were good. And kind. And smart. And talented. And confused. And lost. And just like every other kid in the school. You were good. You stayed to yourself. You didn’t gossip. You didn’t judge. You didn’t tattle. You were good. 

So why did everyone hate you so much? 

It was your brother’s fault. His reputation preceded yours and it ruined everything for you. 

He was the one that picked fights. 

He was the one that pushed teachers to the limits. 

He’s the one that sold dope from his locker. 

He’s the one that hooked up with a girl in the teacher's lounge. 

And the third floor bathroom. 

And the girls locker room.

And underneath the bleachers.

He’s the one that made everyone think you were just alike. 

It ruined everything about high school so far. 

Jokes, rumors, lost friendships, people refusing to date you. 

It was childish and unfair. You wanted one person on your side, the one person you watched in class, the one person that was nice to you in a school of jekyll’s. And you couldn’t have him. 

“Hey, still coming later?” 

Peter Parker had a smile that could make the devil buckle. He was sugar, spice and everything nice. Long time crush, but the part where you’ve been smeared into a good for nothing whore, made nothing possible. 

“You sure you still wanna do this? I don’t mind asking Mrs. Stu-” 

Peter called your name like you were telling a joke, “it’s my honor to tutor you! Don’t blow me off.” 

You want to protect him. You like him too much. He hangs around you long enough and accusations with his name start flying around with yours. 

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devilfic

❝late-bloomer❞

plot: you've never been kissed before. on a completely unrelated note, what if your best friend offered to be your first? pairing: tasm!peter parker x gn!reader. cw: post-tasm 2, gwen stacy mention, angst, self-deprecating thoughts about being undesirable and insecurity in love, best friends to wouldn't you like to know, eventual fluff, attempts at andrew garfield accurate rambling, he definitely talks you through it I mean who said that. words: 4.3k.

a/n: entirely self-indulgent because I wrote this after crying over being a late-bloomer for an hour ahahaha

Peter is reading something for research when you suck in a breath and finally ask, "What was your first kiss like?"

You hear his voice die in his throat. The small whispering of test results and calculations fall short, but you don't dare to look back. You're hunched forward so he won't see the way your eyes burn and brim with tears unshed because if he did, he'd ask about it and then you'd really start crying. Instead, you busy yourself with your phone, idly scrolling as if your question was pure curiosity alone.

You watch his ankles uncross, hear him sit up and then lean against the headboard again, fumbling for your train of thought, "Uh... sticky, 'cause I was six," Peter laughs, "You should know. You're the one who kissed me."

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Robbery of a Heart (one-shot)

Synopsis: Robberies are never fun to deal with. Unless it's a certain chef that steals your heart. That is something that can be gotten behind. Real robberies - not so much.

Pairing: Carmen (Carmy; Bear) Berzatto x fem!Reader

Genre: primarily fluff, maybe a bit of angst

Warnings: robbery, mentions of blood, stitches, wounds, swearing, mentions of suicide, minimally edited

Word count: 4041

Calling in just a couple of hours before the opening shift where Y/N should be on her way to help out, was the last thing she wanted to do. In fact, all she wanted was to make her coffee and have her usual bagel with cream cheese, tomatoes and basil before heading out the door and getting to The Bear. Instead, she was stuck in her apartment, with medics and police officers, as well as some concerned neighbours all around.

           Y/N huffed, her leg bouncing up and down as the paramedic finally snipped the ends of the bandages and told her to take it easy for the next few days and to go to the hospital in a week’s time.

           The clock glared at her from her peripheral, counting down the minutes to when her alarm would blare.

           Fuck! Why the fuck did this have to happen on a night when she had a shift the next morning!?

           She dragged a hand down her face when the cops and the medics finally left.

           Mrs Hanover from the third floor gave her a tight smile. “You’ll be okay, sweetie?”

           “I’ll be alright.” Y/N gave her an appreciative hug. “Thanks. Just – just gonna get some more rest.”

           “You do that,” the older woman patted her cheek. With one more backwards glance and a reassuring wave from Y/N, her apartment was vacated.

           Instantly, she latched the new locks, put the chain on and placed a chair underneath the door handle. No more surprises, not after that night.

           Plopping herself down on the couch, Y/N craned her neck back and stared at the ceiling. It was still dark outside, as it usually was when she returned home and more often than not nowadays, when she left for work.

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laiiaaa

CINNAMON SUGAR — CARMEN BERZATTO

summary Carmen comes home to you late at night. Luckily, you manage to stay awake.
length 2k
contents absolutely zero plot, literally just a sweet n cute n sappy moment existing in a vacuum, holy shit so much fluff i might die (got the idea for this while listening to margaret & let the light in by lana del rey n it's realllll obvious), too many kisses to count, this is what he'd be like after intensive therapy i reckon, not proofread so be nice

Carmen opens the door to the bedroom carefully, minding the creaky hinge in the middle of the night. Moonlight peeks through the window, caught at the right time when the city doesn’t block its path into the apartment, giving just enough glow to the room to see you fast asleep in bed. It’s late, he realizes, even later than usual. He needs to work on that.

He makes his way to the bed, stopping at your side to kneel beside you and simply adore you: the curve of your nose, the plush of your lips in that pout you wear only when you’re asleep, the eyelashes laid against your cheeks.

You stir when he presses his lips to your temple, a soft groan pulled from your lips. “…Bear?”

“Yeah, ‘s me, baby.” Even at a whisper, he thinks he’s too loud, and with his rough and tired hand he brushes over the top of your head just light enough to keep you sleepy.

A drowsy hand reaches out from under the covers to smooth over the contours of his face, tracing along shadows made hazy by a few hours’ rest. “You coming to bed soon?”

“Almost,” he murmurs, smoothing a palm up your exposed arm to hold your hand steady. He pulls ever so slightly away from your palm, only to turn to land gentle kisses against its soft skin, worshiping the pieces of you that treat him with more care than he thinks he’s worthy of. “Needa take a shower first, alright? But I’ll be right back.” 

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Simon leaves you little sticky notes to find when he’s gone. It started out as just a reminder, you’d had an important day at work on Monday and you were sure you were going to forget everything you needed, especially that one file that was detrimental to everything going smoothly.

You woke up that morning and he was already gone, you knew he was leaving and wouldn’t be there when you woke up, sliding out of bed you got dressed, had a small breakfast and started to compile everything. You were at the door, purse in hand when a bright yellow sticky note caught your attention, it was posted at your eye level right on the door jamb where you wouldn’t be able to miss it.

“Got the file? -S”

You smiled and looked down. Lo and behold you’d nearly forgotten it.

You gave him a huge hug when he came home, he single handedly saved the day and saved you an armload of stress on top of it. The next time you had nothing that needed reminding but he left you a sticky note anyway, this time on the mirror in the bathroom, you didn’t even notice it was there until you’d gotten out of the shower and were drying your hair.

“Good Morning Gorgeous -S”

You smiled from ear to ear. Pulling the note down to save it from the steam and looking back on it week to week until he came home.

Then it became a little game. Where would his sticky note be? There always was one. You tried to hunt for it but he was very clever at hiding it in different spots every time, never the same spot twice. The next was on the box of your favorite snack in the cupboard.

“Missing you. -S”

The following deployment you’d looked everywhere and had nearly given up until one night you were about to sit down for dinner and you finally found it, taped to a napkin that had to be five or six deep in the roll was the little bright pink square you’d been searching for. This time just a telltale little skull drawn on it and two cheeky little words. It sent you into a fit of giggles.

“Found me. -S”

The one after that in the actual washing machine. Taped under the lid in big letters of his blocky but neat handwriting.

“You are my Sunshine. -S”

You woke up to a cold empty bed, lonely and longing. You trudged through your morning routine, just the motions, nothing more. But when you got out the door and into the car, taped to the sun visor was just what you were looking for. Large lettering taking up a good expanse of the electric blue paper. Written in his hand.

“I love you so much, Sweets. You’re my angel, my rock, my everything. I’ll be home before you know it. -S”

Every note, every little handwritten message on those multicolored squares you saved for the days when it was hard. When it felt like he was a million miles away and he was never coming home. You kept them all in a little drawer beside your bed where you could pull them out. Teary eyed and disheartened you reread them, reliving that joy of finding them again. Trying to get a feel of him when all you wished for was his warm soft touch and sweet, loving care.

When he came home, after the initial rituals of long awaited embrace and always when you were finally swaddled in the safe expanse of his loving arms once again would he ask you. “Did you get my note?”

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Only If You Catch Me

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pairing: fred weasley x fem!reader

summary: fred had always been frustrated by your endeavors with other men, especially other men that always looked quite a bit like him. after a disastrous mistake during quidditch practice you find yourself wondering how you had never seen fred Weasley in the light you saw him in now

word count: 4.4k

warnings: jealousy, language (maybe?), only proof read once so sorry for any mistakes!

a/n: this is my first big piece in ages, I hope you guys enjoy and im so sorry for my prolonged absence i fell off on writing for a while and im just now getting back to it

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Some things were just facts, plain and simple; the sky is blue, two and two is four and you had a type.

“Another ginger I see.” Alicia murmured as you sat down across from her, pints of butter beer clinking together. Your eyes were locked with a pretty freckled boy by the bar. 

You huffed even though she was quite right, this must have been the third redhead that you set sights on this year. “Well William got boring and,” You paused wrinkling your nose, “-pushy” 

The Three Broomsticks was packed, the sounds of chatter and warmth guarding you from the icy cold of the blizzard that had swept through Hogsmeade. You and Alicia had joined the dozens of students seeking cover in the popular pub and quickly snagged a small table near a large fireplace where you now looked out on the sea of flushed faces and smiles. 

“With your type it's a wonder your last name isn’t Weasley.” Your friend chuckled and you laughed. 

“If I could have gotten my hands on Charlie, it would be.” You replied, your silly crush on the older Weasley brother lasting from your first year to what you were sure would be your last. 

Alicia giggled, taking a large swig from her pint, licking the foam off her top lip. “Why not one of the twins then?”

“What twins?” A voice asked from behind you.

“She couldn’t be talking about us now could she, Georgie?” Fred jested.

“No no,” The other replied, “I mean what could Spinnet possibly want from us?”

Alicia rolled her eyes with great effort, “Trust me when I say I want nothing to do with you. As for my friend here, I don't know if I can say the same.” she said with a smug grin and you sent her a furious look.

Fred smirked, leaning over the back of your chair, his large palms ghosting your shoulders, “Is that true? Do you need something from us?” He leaned in even further, his nose brushing your hair, “from me?”

You began to look a bit red as he pulled away, “Please Weasley,” you managed to scoff “since when do I need things from you? In fact, I believe you still have my Charms notes.”

Fred had come to stand in front of you now, George joining his side, “It's just that your notes are so much better for writing Flitwick’s essay. ” He argued. 

“You don’t even take notes.” You said, exasperated. 

“Exactly” The twins replied in unison. 

Alicia snickered beside you.

Chairs appeared and Fred and George sat. The table seemed half the size it was before as Fred's elbow knocked against yours.

“Made yourselves at home have you?” You spoke, wincing.

Fred just grinned and leaned purposefully closer, thighs now brushing.

You slid towards Alicia who was turning a laugh into a cough and set your eyes back on the boy with freckles. 

“You headed to the Slytherin match next weekend?” Alicia asked absently.

“Of course.” George replied, “I’ve bet Lee a galleon that Malfoy catches a bludger with his nose.” he chuckled,  “He reckons it’ll be his gut.” 

You all smiled at the idea, no one hated Malfoy more than those on the Gryffindor quidditch team. 

“We also have business to do.” Fred said, wiggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You don't have any more of those nosebleed nougats do you?” You asked, eyes still across the room, “I’ve got to get out of Binns’ class tomorrow.” 

Alicia's eyebrows shot up, you hardly missed History of Magic, or as you liked to call it, nap hour. “Why's that?”. 

“No reason.” You mumbled, intently staring into your butterbeer. 

Fred’s eyes darted between the two of you. 

“Of course we’ve got some.” grinned George, oblivious, “2 sickles a pei-.”

“Or for free if you tell us what you're up to.” Fred interrupted, catching a strange look from his brother. 

“I'm not up to anything!” You gasped with a bit too much enthusiasm. 

Alicias eyes had narrowed to slits and Fred had never looked more unconvinced. 

Your face began to grow hot and you found yourself wishing you had more grace in the act of lying.

“Oh come off it,” George said, “If she wants to snog Murphy instead of hearing about the seventh generation of goblin rebellions, who are we to judge?” 

You were glowing pink now, sending a vicious look at George who had taken to sipping his drink innocently. 

Fred looked appalled, his face contorted like he had just caught a whiff of something horrible, “Murphy!” 

“Keep your voice down.” You hissed angrily, glazing across the room again to be sure he hadn’t heard, “I'm trying to keep it quiet.” 

Fred was fuming, “Who wouldn’t, swapping spit with a git like that.” 

You scoffed, pulling out a small coin purse, “Can I just have some nougat?”

“Nope.” Fred responded, voice suddenly ferocious, “We’re out.”

You were beginning to grow frustrated, “George just said you had some.”

Fred glared at you, “We’re out.” he repeated his nose high in the air.

You turned to George looking for help but he threw you an I’m-not-getting-into-this look and you were forced to round back on Fred. 

You glared at each other for a moment before Fred caved, "Fine we’ve got some,” He huffed, “Three Galleons.” 

Your mouth dropped, “George said 2 sickles!”

He crossed his arms, “They’re in high demand.”

You stood, chair flying back into the wall with a loud crack, “You’re a complete prick.” you said sharply snatching your bag and sweeping past Fred and over to meet Finn Murphy  who was now standing to leave the pub. 

“Well I think you handled that well.” Alicia said, grinning at Fred who looked as though he had been slapped. 

George, who looked all too happy with himself for instigating such an interesting conversation, helped himself to the remains of your butterbeer as you and Murphy bowed out into the flurry of white followed closely by Fred’s glare.

“Looks as though she's gonna snog every redhead at school before you.” Alicia snicked. 

“Yeah,” George snorted, “You might want to keep an eye on Ginny.”

Alicia giggled even harder, pressing a hand to her lips in an attempt to keep her drink in her mouth. 

Fred could hardly hear them, too busy envisioning your latest with large boils all over his face or perhaps vomiting indefinitely. 

Alicia managed to contain herself and shot Fred a sympathetic glance, “I've been trying you know, I keep bringing you up but she seems far more interested in Charlie.” 

“Charlie!” He guffawed, “But he's been gone for ages!”

“Well he seemed to have made quite the impression.” Alicia chuckled. 

“He was captain when she was appointed to the team.” George pointed out. 

“Yeah when she was TWELVE” Fred gasped. 

Alicia couldn’t help it, she had started laughing again, “Relax,” She spoke between breaths, “It’s just a silly school girl crush.” 

Fred looked unconvinced and began to tap his heel incessantly against the floor.

“Take it as a complement!” She continued, “Charlie looks quite a bit like you, I mean you are related after all.” 

Fred was not taking it as pleasantly as she suggested and began to rap his foot on the ground even faster, “We’ve got to do something.” 

“We?” George snorted, “This is all you mate. I’m not the one in love with her.” 

Freds ears grew pink, “I’m not in love with her!” he sputtered. 

“Whatever you say.” Alicia spoke rolling her eyes.

The truth was that if Fred wasn't in love with you, he was so close he may as well have been. At the very least he had been pining after you for years and he had never been particularly quiet about it. In fact he was the opposite of quiet about it. His flirtatious remarks and dazzling complements were quite consistent. Unfortunately so was his coursing jealousy as you paraded around with boy after boy who was not him.  Every year he swore would be the year. The year where you finally realized it was him you needed and all would be right in Fred's world. But time and time again he failed as you walked out the door with a different redhead. He was growing nervous, his seventh year was upon him and this may be his last chance before you were all carted off in different directions never to see each other again. The frustration of it all was turning him bitter.

That night Fred lay awake on his four-poster, staring at the ceiling venomously. What was it? He wondered, What was it that he didn't have that every other ginger you knew seemed to possess? Why was it never him pulling you into broom closets and meeting you after classes? What was he doing wrong? His thoughts spun until he drifted into an uneasy slumber. 

By the time he arrived at the quidditch pitch for practice the next morning, the rest of the team was already changing into their robes as Angilina scribbled vigorously on the chalkboard in front of them, already changed and ready. 

“Fred!” She shouted watching him try to sneak his way into the bustle of the team unnoticed, “What took so long? I was beginning to think I would have to send George back up to wake you.” 

He shrugged, “Sorry Cap, I didn’t get much sleep last night if you know what I mean.” he winked at her and she looked sorely unamused. 

You on the other hand perked up at the insinuation, finally looking at the twin who, in protest of his behavior the day before, you had been ignoring. 

“She gets what I mean,” He smirked nodding towards you, “Up late with Murphy boy last night?” He asked viciously. 

You flushed as the changing room filled with chuckles. 

“Murphy?” Angelina asked, turning to you, “Isn’t he a bit,” She paused, “dim?” 

You scowled at Fred silently before snatching your broom from the rack and marching so quickly out onto the pitch that you hadn’t even noticed you had hit Harry in the temple with its handle. 

As Potter groaned in pain and fixed his askew glasses Fred looked over to Alicia who was shaking her head slightly. As the rest of the team slowly followed you out onto the field she and George made their way towards him. 

“You’re an idiot.” Alicia groaned, “No wonder she won’t go out with you.”  

George chuckled.

Fred glared at the pair, “It’s not my fault she insists on only snogging boys who are 'a bit dim.'" he spoke, mocking Angelina.

“I know that this may be hard to wrap your head around,” Alicia spoke sharply, “But maybe she went out with Murphy because he was, ya know, nice to her.” She then shouldered past the twins leaving Fred gapping at his brother desperately. 

The day was crisp, the heavy licks of winter drawn in by a bitter wind. But the sky was clear and the sun was out, much to everyone’s appreciation. 

Fred mounted his broom still angry, feeling foolish for upsetting you yet again as you stood with your back to him defiantly. 

The whistle blew and the balls were released as the team kicked off, snow flying in all directions as you did so. 

Fred's head was not in practice as it should have been but instead on you, watching you speed towards the goal posts with the quaffle already under your arm. You scored easily on Ron with a feign left.

Fred was so absorbed in you that he had completely forgotten about the bludgers, one of which was hurtling at him with frightening speed. With little time to react he swung his bat wildly and pitched the bludger in the opposite direction, which with a sickening feeling he realized was right at you. 

He tried to shout but you must not have heard him over the howling of wind in your ears. Because when the bludger struck you heavily between the shoulder blades you were completely unprepared. Your vision danced as the air was knocked from your lungs. You were flung from your broom with a shriek and began to plummet.

Fred streamed after you, urging his broom towards the ground with a frightening speed. His Cleansweep shuttered under the immense pressure he suddenly held it in and never before had Fred wished so badly for Potters Firebolt. 

He managed to get beneath you mere feet from the ground. The force at which you hit him knocked you both into the snow with a heavy thud, and there was a sickening sound as his broom snapped in two. 

Neither of you moved for a moment, the snow settling around you and beginning to melt through your robes. 

“Are you alright?” Fred asked and was struck with panic when you did not respond. He sat up quickly pulling you with him, your legs tangled together in the snow. He called your name desperately, hands holding your face as you lay limp in his arms. 

Angelina landed beside the pair followed closely by George and Alicia both of whom were wearing nervous expressions. 

“Y/n!” Fred shouted again, tears stinging his eyes, fear gripping his throat like a vice. He was moments away from shaking you when your eyes slowly peeled open. 

“Fred?” You mumbled, confused. 

The boy let out a barking laugh of relief and then dove into a hug, almost knocking you back to the ground. 

Bewildered, you returned his embrace and realized quite suddenly how much larger than you Fred really was. You practically disappeared into his chest, his broad shoulders shielding you from the wind that whipped across the pitch. You felt frighteningly warm listening to his heart beat quickly beneath his robes. Your cheeks were hot as he pulled away from you and began to search for any look of pain or damage on your face. 

“Are you alright love?” He asked again and was washed with relief when you nodded. 

As you fully realized what was going on around you, you gasped, pulling the handle of Fred's broom out of the snow.

“Your broom!” You looked horrified, “Fred, your broom broke!” 

Fred on the other hand brushed it off helping you to your feet and beginning to pat the snow off your robes, “It’s alright, I’m sure it's fixable.” he shrugged, “Listen, I am so s-”

But before Fred could finish his apology George burst between the two of you, “I am so sorry!” He spoke hurriedly, “The bludger caught me off guard. I swear I wasn’t aiming for you.” 

You chuckled, giving George a pat on the shoulder, “I sure hope not, but 's not me you should be apologizing to anyway.” You said, “It's Fred’s broom that broke.”  

George did not issue his brother any regrets and instead sent him a wink, whipping his wand out of robes and shouting “Repairo!”

The broom snapped back together and Angelina, who was desperate to get back in the air, looked to you, “You alright then?” 

You nodded with a grin and turned back to Fred who was testing the strength of his brother's repair. 

“Thank you so much Fred,” You gushed, looking up at him through your lashes. 

The boy's heart skipped a beat, stomach lurching, “It was no problem really.” He breathed and miraculously found you in his arms for the second time as you lunged towards him.

“Thank you.” You murmured into his robes before disconnecting and swiftly boarding your broom again. 

Fred watched you leave struck for a moment. Alicia shot him a thumbs up and a grin before he was able to clumsily climb onto his own broom and follow you back up into the air. 

By dinner the story of your fall had been told and retold so many times that you were now said to have plummeted upwards of a hundred meters before Fred had heroically scooped you onto his own broom, saving what was sure to be your life. 

In the great hall you kept getting asked if you were okay as down the table Fred got clapped on the shoulder and congratulated for his great save. He seemed to be enjoying the new story a fair bit more than you were. 

Finn had come over to ask about you halfway through dinner but you found suddenly that he was no less than boring and he returned to the Hufflepuff table after a few short minutes with a look of disappointment on his face. 

Fred watched this with such delight he was sure he was glowing. George -who he had been applauding as the best wingman one could ask for all day- poked him hard in the side and pointed down the table to where you sat. Fred turned to catch your eyes already on him. He winked exuberantly and you turned away with a scoff, but your cheeks had taken a rather deep shade of red. 

He grinned so wide at George he thought his lips might split, “I mean this is some real progress!” He cheered, “Did you see that? She was staring at me!” 

Down the hall you turned to Alicia, cheeks still pink, “Have you ever noticed how tall Fred is?” You asked so suddenly she choked on her pumpkin juice. 

You stared at her curiously as she wiped her mouth with her sleeve smiling, “Oh yeah very tall.”

You hummed looking back down the table at the elder twin who was now laughing wildly at something Lee had said, “I guess I never really thought about it before.” 

Angilina shot Alicia a glance as you were distracted and the two of them broke out into giggles. 

“What?” You demanded though you were still smiling. 

“Oh nothing.” Angilina grinned and you huffed turning back to your dinner. 

You found yourself wishing Fred had chosen to sit a bit closer to you as you watched a group of girls across from him break out into giggles at something he said, “There's no way he's that funny.” You muttered knowing he in fact was. 

  Yet you couldn’t find yourself being all that jealous as he kept glancing up at you, as if checking to make sure you were still watching him and much to his delight you always were. His shoulders, you noticed from where you sat picking at plum pudding, were quite wide, his arms toned. It was no wonder that he had engulfed you completely out on the pitch. 

How had I never noticed this before? You found yourself wondering. How had he managed to escape your list of potential suitors when he was so obviously perfect for you?

The thought struck you rather abruptly and while you would have liked to have sat with it for a minute, Alicia was standing and you knew it was time to head back to the common room. 

As students began to flood from the hall you fiddled with the sleeves of your robes, thoughts full of brown eyes and freckles . 

As if summoned, Fred appeared at your side grinning widely, “Hello.”

“Hey Fred,” replied Alicia. 

“Have you guys heard the news?” He asked, throwing an arm around your shoulder. You tried hard not to blush and instead shook your head, staring at the floor. “Apparently, you owe me your life.” He was beaming down at you now and you found it hard to look away. 

“Oh yeah?” You smirked, “And I heard it was actually you who hit me with that bludger.” 

His smile disappeared only momentarily and you were happy to see it recover so quickly. 

“Ah well, I figured Angelina wouldn’t keep her mouth shut.” He shrugged, “Though I swear if I had a choice I would have knocked her off her broom instead.” 

And for the first time that evening jealousy took you strongly, “Oh yeah? I suppose she would have been a bit more fun to catch then?” 

Fred looked startled by your bristly reaction, “Nah,” He responded, “That would have been Georgie’s job.” 

You were satisfied with this answer and felt yourself leaning against him as you began up towards the tower.

George was delighted to see you still tucked beneath his brother's arm when you reached the common room. He called you over to where he sat and you placed yourself in a large squishy armchair as Fred perched himself beside you on an ottoman. 

You spent your evening rather uneventfully, finishing an essay for Snape as the Gryffindors slowly filtered off to bed in pairs. When George rose to take himself to the dormitory you expected Fred to follow but instead he stayed rooted by your feet where he now sat cross legged on the carpet looking over what looked like an extensive order form. 

Hours later you yawned, stretching when you finally finished your work. It was now well past midnight and only a few fifth years remained, cramming for a quiz in transfiguration the next day. You turned to look at Fred who had long since sprawled himself across the couch before the fire and found him snoring softly. 

A jolt of infatuation made your stomach flip. His messy hair glowed shockingly bright in the fire light, his pink lips slightly agape. You gathered your things slowly, sure not to wake him before you stood beside him.

You knew you should wake him, you were the reason he had not retreated to bed after all. But he looked so peaceful like this, so soft. Instead you found yourself slowly counting the freckles that sprawled across his cheeks, leaning close to brush a strand of his bright red hair out of his face. He woke immediately at your touch, large brown eyes locking with your own.

You felt your cheeks go hot, “You should go up to bed.” You mumbled beginning to pull away. 

He snatched your wrist with such haste it took you by surprise, “Do that again.” he spoke.

You furrowed your brow, “What?” 

“With my hair,” It was his turn to blush now, “Touch my hair again.” 

It felt as though the air was sucked from your lungs yet you found yourself obeying, fingers coming to comb through the soft waves that spread across his forehead. 

He hummed, leaning into your touch slowly, gaze still locked with yours. The two of you stayed there for a moment, you kneeling beside him fingers in his hair, his hand still loosely wrapped around your wrist. 

“I’m sorry.” He murmured and you looked at him confused. 

“For what?” 

“Hitting you with a bludger.” he responded remorsefully. 

You laughed softly, your head thrown back, “It's okay Fred.” you grinned. You were close now, so close Fred could feel the tickle of your breath on his cheek, “I forgive you. You made up for it after all.” 

He smirked in spite of himself, “I suppose I did, saving your life and all.” 

You were giggling again and Fred was sure he was in some beautiful dream where all he could ever hear or see was your joy. 

“I wouldn’t push your luck if I were you.” You grinned, “I may just chuck the quaffle at your head when you're not looking.” 

“Only if you catch me when I fall.” Fred whispered, leaning closer still. 

You let him, your lips connecting slowly. You were pleased to find he was a fantastic kisser, his lips soft and plush, eager to please. His free hand cupped your cheek as he pulled you closer still until you were practically on top of him.

One of the alarm clocks the fifth years had been attempting to turn to roosters burst to life and you pulled away abruptly remembering bitterly that you and him were not the only ones in the room. Fred chased after your lips with his own desperate for even a moment more with your mouth.

“You should get to bed.” You repeated standing now, knees a bit shaky. 

Fred was disappointed by your departure but grinned wildly nonetheless as you gathered your books into your arms and turned back to him. 

“I’ll see you tomorrow Fred.” You yawned and began up the stairs to your dormitory determined not to let him see the childish glee that had spread across your face. 

“Wait!” He called after you, lurching from the couch and stopping at the bottom of the steps. 

You turned back to him taking in the wonderful sight of him staring lovingly up at you. He looked delightfully disheveled, his hair a mess and his lips swollen from your touch. You took two steps down now only one above where he stood on the hardwood floor.

You looked down at him expectantly as his eyes bore into your own. 

He lifted himself onto his toes and grabbed your shoulders forcinging you forward where you connected for a second time. 

This time his breath was hot and heavy on your lips, his earnest intensifying to a level that you could only describe as hunger. Your feet dangled momentarily in the air as he lifted you fervently into his embrace. You were suddenly engulfed in Fred again, he was all you could smell sweet and cinnamon, all you could hear were his pants in your ear, all you could feel was him, his arms around your middle, his thigh pressed between your legs and his lips and tongue working so well together that it was you who chased after him this time, whining in protest when he pulled back.

You stared at him, out of breath and stunned to silence. 

Fred looked as though he had just won something very expensive the way he was grinning with triumph, his eyes dark with lust. 

 “Sweet dreams love.” He murmured leaning down to give you one final kiss, his lips moving sickeningly slow against your own, wet and warm. He hovered inches form your lips for a moment, as if debating diving back in, before he backed away tucking his hands casually into his robes.

“You should go to bed, love.” He smirked, “We’ve got an early practice tomorrow and I do believe you made me a promise about knocking me off my broom.” 

You bit your lip to keep from breaking into girlish giggles. Your heart was still pounding as though you had just run a long race. 

“Only if you swear to catch me though.” He added with a wink.

“I’ll always catch you Freddie.” you assured him before turning and hurrying back up the stairs, grinning so wide your cheeks had begun to ache.

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Anonymous asked:

Could you write a fic where George is doing everything he can to get the attention of the reader who doesn’t notice him because she’s just a really studious bookworm who hasn’t really thought about relationships until he finally does something big enough to get her attention? 😄

The Bookworm

George Weasley x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

~•~

Y/N was always reading. In the library, reading. At mealtimes, reading. Sitting outside, reading. Walking down the hall, reading. Never once looking up and never once bumping into anyone else. George was certain she possessed some sort of ancient, forgotten magic.

He'd been trying to get her attention for weeks, and nothing he did worked. Right now, he was standing next to the bench where she sat engrossed in her book.

"Mate, what are you doing just standing here?" Fred glanced over at Y/N and rolled his eyes.

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Anonymous asked:

hi! no sure if you do fred weasley requests so feel free to change to one of the marauders if not :)

i was thinking of a girl in her 6th year transferring from ilvermorny to hogwarts and getting sorted into ravenclaw. and it’s kind of a love at first sight when fred sees her. and go from wherever from there!! love ur work :)

I’ve never written for Fred, but I loved this idea. I hope u like!!<3 I don’t know how I feel

“Don’t be nervous.” Fred smiles, all twinkle.

George chimes in, your head turning quickly to acknowledge him. “It’s not all scary.”

“The hat doesn’t bite.”

Sometimes.”

Fred elbows George quickly. “He’s twisting your arm.”

“Oh.” You smile politely, anxiety turning your gut. Fred’s ears perk at your accent.

“What’s America like?” He asks nosily.

“And why’d you transfer?” George finishes.

You shrug, polite smile still aching your lips. “Mom got a job at the ministry.”

Mom.” George mimics. It falls to deaf ears.

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nrdmssgs

Kissing Ghost on the forehead

Simon tried to protect you from Ghost, he really did. It was not that Ghost would hurt you in any way, no. And of course, it was not a disease or mental disorder of any kind - it's a coping mechanism. But once the mask was on - Ghost appeared softly and silently. And Ghost could do things, that Simon couldn't. Things, he wouldn't ever want you to witness.

He never made a huge mystery of his work - he just didn't give away too many details. Simon didn't even hide his masks - he just asked you to not touch him, when he's wearing one of them.

"It's dusty, I wouldn't want your hands to get dirty." When in reality, he wouldn't want your entire being to get corrupted.

Ghost was to be kept out of your house and Simon made sure, you never saw each other. Little did he know, you had your ways not only around people, but around symbols as well.

His last day at home was coming to an end: in the morning he had to leave for a long deployment. Simon packed his things, leaving the mask atop of his open bag.

The rays of the setting sun painted the rooms with large windows in shades of red and gold. He absorbed every moment, breathed in and tried to remember barely distinguishable smells and sounds that filled your house, walked aimlessly through the rooms when he saw this. You sat on the edge of your bed, next to his bag, holding his mask in front of you. Your eyes were screwed shut as you pressed your forehead against the cracked, grayish surface of the mask. It was as if Ghost was kneeling in front of you, letting you touch his forehead with yours. Simon froze, part of him wanted to end this scene right there, but he hesitated, not wanting to scare you.

You slowly opened your eyes and looked deep into the empty holes in the mask. Your lips parted and you spoke almost inaudibly.

"Protect him and bring him back to me alive."

Simons' heart skipped a beat, when he understood, you were speaking not to him, but to the Ghost behind his mask.

And then, when he thought, this strange conversation was over - you brought the mask to your lips and kissed its forehead. Simon was standing in good 10–15 meters from you, but he could swear, he almost felt your soft and tender touch. Anything he ever knew, anything both he and Ghost were capable of, crumbled and slowly disappeared before your wish. Anything, that still kept meaning both to Simon and Ghost from this very moment, was that wish.

"Bring him back alive."

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One Cot - Simon “Ghost” Riley

Hi there, this story is a one shot about Simon Riley. I haven’t played COD before and I don’t know much about his character, but I love the thought of tough men being soft.

Summary: You help Ghost on a cold night and he returns the favour.

Word count: 2398

Pairing: Simon “Ghost” Riley x Reader

Warnings: none, fluff.

Crews like task force 141 aren’t the type to pack extra cots. They don’t need them. Because crews like 141 don’t make a habit of bringing home extra bodies. There’s only ever one scenario when they have extra cots. Luckily for them, tonight’s not one of those nights.

For me, however, that means another night on the floor with my ankle cuffed to the bottom of one of their cots in case I try to run.

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