Rest In fucking pieces Draco

For @trashcanprince 💕

Messrs. Moony, Wormtail, Padfoot, and Prongs

Remus and Sirius meeting each other in the after life

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This is for a challenge on insta by @lunalovegoodart and @girlwithacrown and it’s heavily inspired by Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss and Fulfillment.

SLYTHERIN: "What's money? A man is a success if he gets up in the morning and goes to bed at night and in between does what he wants to do." –Bob Dylan

Andromeda: *packing her bags to run away and marry Ted*

Sirius: *walking into her room*

Andromeda: Hey Siri-

Sirius: *in Stitch voice* Ohana means family b&tch

Andromeda: *confused*

Sirius: *walking out*

Slytherin: You know what this cereal is missing?

Slytherin: Vodka.

i thought bump was gonna be a scab but it turns out he's a real stand up guy

Constellations (Fred Weasley)

Word Count: 1.3k

Summary: Reader makes constellations out of Fred’s freckles

A/N: No major warnings, shirtless Fred, mentions of drinking but not descriptive. Tooth-rotting fluff!! No reader pronouns.

You had always admired Fred’s beauty. He was incredibly handsome, and you told him constantly how attractive he was, but there was something elegant – something ethereal – about the man that you loved. 

His fiery hair seemed to burn without flames under the sunlight, creating a halo of orange hues that perfectly framed his face. You loved how he towered over most, chin jutted out in pride and admiration for his own soaring stature. You could spend the entire day watching him work, content in the observing the way his muscles flexed and stretched as he moved freely. 

Your favorite thing about Fred, though, was the abound of freckles that littered his features. The small dots spread across the bridge of his button nose, over his broad shoulders, and dotted every expanse of his body. 

It wasn’t uncommon for you to trace the pads of your fingers over Fred’s forearms and collarbone, making shapes out of the freckles that you found there. During your years in Hogwarts, Fred would leave classes with lines of dark ink over the back of his hand, courtesy of your wandering mind and your feathered quill. 

When Fred had introduced you to the small apartment over the joke shop, you were ecstatic to start a new chapter of your life with the man that you loved. The shop was perfect, and you were so proud of the twins for chasing their dreams. Fred had been hesitant to show you the quaint apartment, afraid that the modest home wouldn’t live up to your expectations. 

“It doesn’t have much of a view,” he had stated bashfully, scanning the other buildings that crowded around the windows of his bedroom. 

“That’s alright,” you replied, eyes locked onto the mosaic of freckles on his cheekbones. 

“I can look at the stars anytime I want.”

After that, your adoration for Fred’s spotted features became a running joke in your relationship. Your attention to detail made Fred swoon with affection, which was usually covered up with a cheeky comment and a coy smirk.

“S’that one your favorite?” Fred would say each time you kissed the freckle on the corner of his lips.

“Do I have something on my face?” he would question after catching you sneaking a glance in his direction.

You remained unabashed in your endeavors, reminding Fred every day of his merit and allure. Your vocal praise kept the redhead’s cheeks constantly tinged with a light blush, only adding to his charm. You had often compared his beauty to that of the night sky, a scene that you wanted to admire forever.

That was how you found yourself sitting cross-legged in the living room, Fred lying in front of you on the cold, hardwood floor. In a drunken stupor, Fred had swiped a bottle of ink and a small brush from the shop’s office, returning to you in a fit of hazy giggles.

You had furrowed your brows at his treasures, finding it hard to decipher his plans. The two of you had spent the night wandering the shops of Diagon Alley, your minds cloudy from a bottle of wine and your arms linked together tightly. Upon your return to the shop, you had stopped to point out the bright stars over the peaks of the buildings that lined the street. 

An idea popped into Fred’s mind at your mention of the beautiful night sky. He had rushed to unlock the door, pulling you inside and speeding towards the shop’s office. Before you could follow him, his head popped out from the doorway, dismissing you upstairs with the promise of a surprise. 

The bottle of ink that he had brought upstairs was just over halfway full, a few spots of the pitch-black liquid dried onto the cracked label. He placed the bottle in one hand and the tiny paintbrush in another as if you could read his muddled thoughts. When you only looked up at him curiously, he motioned to the freckles along his arm with enthusiasm.

“S’for you! So you can make constellations like you always do with your fingers. I wanna see what you see.”

Your face lit up, nodding excitedly at his proposition. Fred pulled you to sit in on the floor of the living room, your back leaning against the edge of the sofa as he discarded his shirt and pulled a throw pillow under his head. 

It wasn’t how you expected your night to end, but now that you were settled in the floor, wedged between the front of the sofa and Fred’s lofty figure, you wondered why you hadn’t outlined his constellations before.

Shaking the bottle of ink, you examined your canvas. His skin was warm and you doubted that you had ever seen a more beguiling scene. No, you were sure that this spectacle stood above anything else. By this point in the night, the alcohol had nearly left your system, your mind clear and alert for the task before you.

Your fingers traced over his shoulders and down his spine, leaving a trail of goosebumps in their path. The freckles on his skin seemed endless, but you would have been content in spending the rest of your days counting the small dots. 

You twisted the cap off of the bottle, dipping the paintbrush in the ink and tapping it against the rim of the glass to rid it of the excess. The brush tip wasn’t much wider than the point of a pencil, and you questioned why the twins had such an item in their workspace. 

Steadying your hand over his lower back, you moved the brush, letting the first spot of pigment fall onto your spotted canvas. Fred’s muscles tensed, a small gasp leaving his lips at the cold sensation. Your free hand came down onto his back to soothe him.

“Sorry. Should’ve warned you first, love.”

“S’alright, keeps me from falling asleep,” he replied, voice smooth and thick with drowsiness.

You hummed at his words before returning to your work, running the brush in short lines, connecting his freckles in the formation of every constellation you knew. You kept a list in your mind, thinking back to the clear nights spent in the astronomy tower with the redhead. 

The small strokes accumulated over his skin, creating an array of shapes and points that mirrored the sky just outside. The time seemed to fly by as you worked, Fred’s quiet snores filling the air after some time. He opened his eyes after a particularly light brushstroke against the spot between his shoulders, mumbling that the tickle that woke him up. 

When you were finished with your masterpiece, you placed the cap on the jar, setting it to the side along with the paintbrush. You scanned his back, memorizing every dimple and raised scar that you found. One day, you would have him tell you about the stories behind each mark, reminiscent of his adolescent adventures. 

Finally, you let him move from his spot, a toothy grin taking over his features as he twisted and turned to see your work. You giggled at his determination, shaking your head playfully. 

“Why don’t you go look in the mirror?”

“Right! That’s a great idea, love. I’ll be back.”

He scrambled to his feet, striding towards your shared bedroom to get a better look in the mirror that hung over your dresser. You could faintly hear him rattle on about how much he loved your artistry. When he returned to the living room, he gazed at you with love and appreciation. He held out his hand, helping you up from your place in the floor.

You stood close, wrapping your arms around his shoulders, careful of the drying ink against his skin. He placed his forehead against yours, swaying you lightly as his hands found their place on your waist. 

“Thank you, sweetheart. It looks amazing.”

“I’m glad you like it, Freddie.”

He hummed, pressing a smiling kiss to your lips. You stood together peacefully, appreciating the outcome of a random drunken date night. You couldn’t imagine a life without Fred, and you knew that he felt the same about you. Swaying together in your silent living room, nothing else in the world really seemed to matter. After a moment, Fred’s voice broke you from your thoughts.

“George s’gonna be so jealous.”

Taglist: @im-constantly-fangirling @msfandomfreak @leviosa-moon @slycassini @prismarts @mjoubertt-1 @laceycallisto @itsmentalillness @ohnoitsmekc @616films @alohastitch0626 @oh-dionys @nottherealslimshady @abbott27 @onlyfreds @eeniemeenienini @mydelicategirl2000 @mrs-brekker15 @rons-whore @simp-for-cedric-diggory @thestral-queen-rules @pepper-up-potion @eccentricbookworm @mollysolo @just-a-smol-spoon

Gryffindor: I'm a God.

Ravenclaw: You yelled “shut up” at a thunderstorm and it happened to dissipate. It was purely coincidence. You have no power.

Hufflepuff: Shut it. They're a God.

GRYFFINDOR:

"LEGOLAS: You mean not to follow them. ARAGORN: Frodo's fate is no longer in our hands. GIMLI: Then it has all been in vain. The Fellowship has failed. ARAGORN: Not if we hold true to each other. We will not abandon Merry and Pippin to torment and death. Not while we have strength left."

–Fran Walsh + Philippa Boyens + Peter Jackson (The Lord of the Rings: The Fellowship of the Ring)

So what’s Sirius buying for the kid anyway?

Many many things is what he's buying!

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Bonus:

*quietly hopes the villain will be both problematic and hot* 

Hi friends!! Thank you all so much for 850 followers!! I know that I just recently ended my last celebration, but I’m just so pleased with the growth that I’ve seen on this account and I want to celebrate with you all!! From July 29 - July 31, everyone is welcome to send in as many asks as they’d like!

Navigation Masterlist

This celebration is based on the Y2K aesthetic! Travel back through time into the era of lipgloss, flip phones, and all things pink!

🌸 ugh, as if! - (moots only) send me this emoji and I’ll tell you which aesthetic you remind me of!

☎️ after the beep - give me a character (mcu or Harry Potter) and I will give you a voicemail that they would leave for you!

💅🏻 that’s so fetch! - (first ten only) give me a character (mcu or Harry Potter) and an activity or trope and I will make a mood board! (example: roller skating with James Potter) all spots filled

💿 MySpace marvel - give me a few facts about yourself (personality, likes, dislikes, hobbies, etc.) and I’ll ship you with someone! (mcu or Harry Potter, please include gender preference!!)

🎟 hall pass - this is your pass to ask me anything!! kmk, cym, would you rather, and any other ask game you can think of!

Tagging some lovely mutuals below the cut:

@pepper-up-potion @mendesxruel @dreamcxtcherr @sereinegemini @huffpasty @weasleysandwheezes @violetlilysunshine @mjoubertt-1 @el-imaskingforyourlefthand @just-a-smol-spoon @underappreciated-spoon-321 @rons-whore @nancybycrs @sarahisslytherin @shysneeze @wolfyprongs @wolfstar-lb @weasleysweets @hellomyweirdos @hellounicorn @ladyvesuvia @lovegoodsgf @616films @gothboutique @arcaneslut @henqtic @wanderingdazes @meiitanoia @mellifluousart @promenadewithme @weasel-b33 @silverdelirium @mwahforpeter @bellatrixscurls @ameliasbitvh @leydileyla @imjustdreamingig @gwlvr @official-weasley @dracossweetprincess @tomriddles-wh0re @itsmentalillness @wonderfilworld @nevsmommy @mais-e @queen-asteria04 @sourweasley @ughgclden @sweeterthansammy @mollysolo + everyone else who has supported my writing <3

Gryffindor: Ravenclaw, what you have to understand is that our lives aren’t a disappointment so much as they crashed and burned with lethal doses of radiation and dog shit.

HUFFLEPUFF: "It is one thing to see your road, another to cut it." –George Eliot (Daniel Deronda)

chibi cat Snape, because why not?

👀✨

"So? What do you want?"

👀👀👀 Historical AU where one of them is a Prince and the other works at the castle and they run away together?

Father knew. Draco saw it in the way he held his body, in the way he never directed his glance at him. He knew.

Feeling his hands tremble, Draco clutched the silverware, hoping it'd stop the shaking. It only made it worse.

Father knew. Their time was running out.

He took the first chance he got to leave the banquet hall. Father would come for him the moment this feast was over. And Draco refused to think of what would happen once he did.

He waited till nobody could possibly hear him before he started a sprint through the castle. Draco didn't have many things he could pack up, everything would give away who he was. He ended up taking things he could sell or trade, the bit of gold he had lying around, and the most basic set of clothes he owned which still screamed prince to everyone looking. It had to do.

His time was running out.

Hearing angry footsteps coming up to his door, Draco froze for a second.

Not the time for panic.

Shaking his head, Draco entered the secret passageway he had found years ago. It ended next to the kitchen, which was exactly where he wanted to be.

Slipping out, he stood straight and hid his fear before storming into the kitchen, demanding for the boy of the cook to pack him a bag he could take out on a hunt and bring it to the stable. The cook bowed, and Draco caught Harry's eyes before he gave him a short nod.

It was their secret message, he knew they had to run. And Draco knew Harry was ready.

He saddled the horses himself while waiting for Harry to join him, feeling his heart sting as he looked around. He'd miss mother, and his castle. But everything was better than what his father would do to him once he found him.

A soft peck to his cheek snapped him out of his misery. Harry's face was warm and soft as he looked at Draco before he helped him get the horses ready.

"Where will we go?" Draco asked, a tremble I'm his voice.

"I know a place. Trust me, we'll be fine. They'll accept us there."

If there was anyone he trusted it was Harry. Harry with his soft heart and lips that tasted like honey. So Draco climbed onto his horse before they set off into the night. Into a new life. Together.

“That confirms what we’ve all known all along. I’m a bad gay. I have no fashion sense.”

-Ravenclaw