#note

As I mentioned previously, I am getting surgery for a debilitating health condition I've been dealing with 14 months (dragged out because of doctors' misdiagnoses) that's basically destroyed my quality of life. I'm in pain daily.

Unfortunately, the surgery can't be done in Canada because it requires expertise (details in the GFM). Also because I'm trans there are surgeons who just don't want to take my case or are prohibited by their hospital from doing it (a US surgeon was going to operate but was stopped by her hospital considering it "gender affirming care").

So I have to go to Madrid for it which will cost €40,000 (approx $60,000 CAD, Canadian Dollars). I don't expect to raise all $60,000, but I am trying to raise half of it ($30,000). My family will be helping with the other half,

I don't really expect to get the $30,000, because it's a LOT of money, but I'm in a desperate situation and in pain every single day. If you could donate anything or even just boost and share to any platforms/communities you can, it would help me so much. <

I don't like asking for money and I don't like using EG to fund raise, and I know it's a tough time for everybody right now economically, but as I said I'm desperate, so I hope you all understand me using my platform for this.

If you want more details on what my condition and surgery are, they're in the GoFundMe post. I'd appreciate any help anybody can give.

You are welcome to share the link wherever you want.

Thank you,

Ami Angelwings <3

Edit: if you're getting an infinite loading screen after trying to donate, the solution is apparently to turn off your adblocker.

-Summary: Fred becomes obsessed with your cherry lip gloss, teasing you relentlessly until his charm gives way to something softer. Between laughter, warmth, and a stolen lip gloss, one thing becomes clear: Fred might joke about everything, but not how he feels about you.

-Word Count: 551

-Pairing: Reader x Fred Weasley

─ ✦ ─ ─ ✦ ─ ─ ✦ ─ ─ ✦ ─ ─ ✦ ─ ─ ✦ ─

It started with a smell.

Not smoke from a firework, not a whiff of one of Fred’s dubious experiments, but something sweet faintly fruity, warm, familiar in a way that shouldn’t have been distracting but was.

Fred paused mid-sentence as he stepped into the room, nose scrunching slightly. “Alright,” he said, narrowing his eyes. “Who smells like dessert?”

You didn’t even look up from your Transfiguration essay. “Hello to you too, Fred.”

He ignored that, wandering closer. “No, seriously, it’s… Merlin, what is that? Strawberries? No. Peaches? No, wait—”

You sighed, setting your quill down. “Cherry.”

“Cherry,” he repeated, as if testing it on his tongue. Then his grin spread — that trademark Fred Weasley smirk that usually meant trouble. “Well, that explains it.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Explains what?”

“Why I can’t seem to think straight,” he said, voice light, teasing. “You’re distracting the room.”

“There is no room,” you deadpanned. “It’s just you.”

“Exactly,” he said, dropping onto the sofa beside you with a grin that should’ve been illegal. “And I’m deeply distracted.”

You rolled your eyes. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Ridiculously honest, maybe.”

You gave him a look. “Fred Weasley, are you flirting with me or trying to sell me a product from your shop?”

“Can’t it be both?”

You snorted, but your cheeks warmed despite yourself. Fred leaned back, draping an arm casually across the back of the couch, close enough that you could smell the faint traces of fireworks and cinnamon that always clung to him.

He tilted his head, studying you. “You’ve got something on your mouth,” he said suddenly.

You frowned, wiping at your lips self-consciously. “What? Where?”

He grinned. “Never mind. I think it’s just that.”

“That what?” you asked suspiciously.

“The gloss,” he said, voice dropping to a mock whisper. “It’s dangerous. You shouldn’t go around wearing it like that. Someone might—”

“—slip and fall in love?” you interrupted dryly.

Fred blinked, momentarily thrown off then his grin returned, even wider. “I was going to say get ideas, but yours is better.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re impossible.”

He leaned in slightly, his voice softer now, not quite teasing, not quite serious. “Maybe. But I’m your impossible.”

The words hung there for a beat too long. You felt your pulse stutter, your throat suddenly dry.

Fred, of course, noticed immediately. His grin softened, and he looked at you with something quieter than his usual mischief fondness, maybe. A little wonder.

“Alright,” you said quickly, breaking the moment before it could turn into something dangerous. “Enough about my lip gloss.”

“Agreed,” Fred said, but his smile didn’t fade. “Just… do me a favor?”

“What?”

“Maybe don’t wear it when you’re near George. I don’t want him thinking I’ve gone soft.”

You rolled your eyes. “Oh, please. You were born soft.”

He gasped dramatically. “Take it back.”

“Never.”

You both laughed and for the rest of the evening, Fred stayed sitting too close, “accidentally” brushing your hand whenever you reached for your quill. You told yourself it was nothing. Just Fred being Fred.

But when he left later, you noticed something missing from your desk.

Your cherry lip gloss.

And a note beside it in Fred’s messy scrawl:

“Borrowing this for research. Might need a taste test later. — F”