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wiener-soldiers · 4 years ago

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so, you’re real - tommy shelby

summary: while high off his ass, tommy shelby is approached by a mysterious woman offering him something more valuable than drugs: information. your services become essential to how tommy conducts business, but your anonymity means he can’t help but fall in love with you from a distance.

words: 5.4k

pairing: tommy shelby x fem!reader (race non-specific)

warnings: tommy shelby. that’s the warning.

a/n: first tommy fic :D he’s one of the most beautifully complex characters ever in television imo but that also means his kinda nightmare to right. so,,, he might come off a little ooc because he’s very soft!tommy in this. i also wanna write a tommy fic based off ‘why’d you only call me when your high’ by arctic monkeys for obvious reasons.

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Tommy Shelby could count the number of people who’s seen him high as a kite on opium with three fingers. Arthur was the first; he drukenly stumbled into Tommy’s room instead of his own one night and the smell of the pipe sobered him enough to start asking questions. Tommy shoved him out and by the morning, Arthur was too hungover to remember a thing. The next was Polly; Tommy stumbled down the stairs as he was high around three in the morning once as he searched the house for more booze. Polly watched from a distance as he sat himself on the kitchen table and wept, squeezing his eyes shut and covering his ears with his hands. She chose not to mention it the following morning, but a perscription for morphine found its way to Tommy’s desk a few days later.

The third person... was you.

You didn’t know the Shelby’s personally. You were the assistant of a local Small Heath accountant that dealt with Birmingham’s most infamous clients: local coppers, factory owners, politicians, even gangsters. Your boss was known as the Devil’s Safe—nothing that came in went ot without the client’s consent.

But you weren’t a saint. Being so close to his office at all times and knowing far too much about where the most influential people in Birmingham got their money and where they spent it, it was nearly impossible to keep your mouth shut.

So, you didn’t. At a price, of course.

You quit your job and created a small network of spies that could feed you information about anyone or anything at anytime, using your knowledge about the Devil’s Safe as leverge. You charged whoever could afford for your services, coppers and criminals alike. Some self-righteous copper tried to shut you down once. Keyword: tried. There were too many spies all over the city to try to arrest (that is, if he could find grounds to arrest them), and you were too important to too many important people that arresting you would likely have him assasinated.

That, and you tipped him off about a corrupt police captain who had been trading orphans for cash. It got him a promotion and you a protective shield over your dealings from the coppers.

Tommy first met you at the races. You were hanging off the arm of Roberts, Billy Kimber’s advisor, and he briefly caught your eye before returning his gaze to Grace who stared at him lovingly. He didn’t know it then, but you were analyzing him. His posture, his facial expressions, how he spoke to Kimber, and most importantly, his books that Roberts happened to have a copy of. Nothing went unnoticed by you. The Shelby’s were starting to cause ruckus all over the city and you were interested. But, to maintain your facade, you snuck a few kisses to Roberts’ neck to distract him from your snooping.

When Tommy returned to the table with the bag of cash his brothers had collected from the Lees, you were gone.

---

The second time he sees you, he isn’t even sure if it’s you.

It’s late at night as he approaches The Garrison when he notices Polly standing with another figure in the alley. He slows his steps and silences his breathing, trying to catch the end of your conversation.

“You’re sure this is where she is?” That’s unmistakingly Polly’s voice.

A soft chuckle rips through the air and Tommy suddenly wonders what your voice sound like. “There’s only so many women carrying a newborn and looking that terrified of what may be behind her,” the other voice says. It’s not soft or angelic, Tommy notices. Nothing likes Grace’s. It’s deeper, smoother, and he can almost hear the smirk in her voice.

“How do I know you’re not lying to me?” Polly asks back skeptically. Tommy has the common sense to realize she’s talking about Ada who had gone into hiding after Freddie was arrested. Polly hadn’t been able to stay in the same room as him for very long since.

You pull out another envelope from your coat and teasingly dangle it in front of her. “Here’s the list of all of Ada and Freddie’s known addresses. The Communists have them move every few weeks; the address I gave you is Ada’s current address. Go there tomorrow from seven to nine in the morning. Ada’ll still be in bed and Karl will still be asleep. Then, you’ll know I’m right, you’ll give me the full payment, and I’ll give you the rest of the addresses.”

Tommy is slightly stunned at what he’s hearing. They had been trying to look for Ada for nearly two weeks to no avail, but this woman was able to find her that easily?

The woman turns to walk away before Polly can respond and in the street light, Tommy can make out the outline of your face. It was so brief that he couldn’t tell if you were actually there or if he imagined your face in the darkness.

Polly doesn’t notice him as she makes her way back inside the pub. The following afternoon, Polly is pounding on his office door saying she’s found where Ada had been hiding.

---

The third time he sees you, he’s sitting in the empty Garrison with a bullet wound in his shoulder, whiskey coursing through his veins, enough meloncholy and anger to swim in, and a broken heart.

Billy Kimber was dead. Campbell was gone. But, so was Grace.

It was a series of emotions he hadn’t felt in a long time: relief, then anger, then happiness, then frustration. Then the shovels started. Then, it all got too loud and he slipped his opium pipe into his coat pocket before going to The Garrison to drink his sorrows away. He had never taken the pipe out of his room before. In that state, he didn’t care.

He doesn’t really know how you got in; he had angrily yelled at everyone to leave the bar when the night was late enough for him to feel emotion and locked the door behind him. Maybe I didn’t lock the door right, he thinks. In reality, you had picked the lock.

“I could’ve told you she’d been working with him,” your voice calls behind him. He’s still hunched over his drink, the pipe lying next to a nearly empty bottle of whiskey. He didn’t need her to clarify who she was talking about.

“You could’ve, eh?” Tommy mumbles dangerously. He felt light, but his eyes and his heart felt heavy. He hated the feeling. Oh god, he hated it.

“Hmm,” you hum back, taking a seat next to him. You reach behind the bar and pull out a bottle of gin and poor yourself a drink. Tommy watches you do so. You don’t look like you pity him, in fact, you don’t even look at him. Instead, you focus your attention on the drink.

After taking a sip, you reach into your coat jacket and pull out an envelope, slidding it over to Tommy. You had clearly seen the opium pipe that still had smoke coming out of it, but you gently pushed it out of the way so the envelope rested in front of Tommy’s drink.

“What is this?” he asks, still too high to think straight.

“Consider it a resume,” you quip back, taking another sip of your drink as you study the collection of liquor and spirits on the back shelf of the bar.

“For what?”

“My services.”

“You a fuckin’ whore? You think that’s what I need right now, eh?”

“What I think you need right now, Mr. Shelby, is a sense of security. To be ahead of the enemy. I can give that to you,” you reply smoothly, barely flinching. Tommy notices your voice doesn’t falter even at his jab. He begins to sober up, finaling looking at you.

You had an air of mystery and intrigue. Your eyes looked all-knowing and the corner of your lip was quirked. A white blouse was tucked into a deep red skirt with your black wool jacket overtop of it all. If he was a different man, he surely would have taken you home.

“Why are you telling me this?” he finally asks.

You look back at him, the smirk on your lips growing. “Because I quite like your family. Polly is quite intelligent and Ada is a delight. I also know far too much about you, so it’d be a shame if someone paid be good money to tell them everything there is to know about you. But if you came to me first, there wouldn’t be much of an issue. The rate for ratting out one of my clients is ridiculously high.”

So, it had been you with Polly that night, he thinks. “You’d work for me?” he asks again, tone getting more serious. The last time a woman worked for him, it didn’t end particularly well.

You laugh and Tommy is momentarily stunned. It’s a beautiful laugh that appeared in an awful moment. “I don’t work for anyone, Mr. Shelby.”

And then you left. Tommy stares a the door for a few minutes after you’ve left, wondering if he had imagined your visit the whole time. When he turns back to his drink, the envelope you left behind is a sign that you had been real. He hesitantly opens it and his jaw unhinges at the contents inside: there were several documents, reports, and even pictures tying Grace Burgess and Inspector Campbell together. It seemed so plain and simple once it was laid out in front of him.

Under the flap of the envelope was an address as well as a rate of service. It was high, Tommy couldn’t deny it, but he also couldn’t deny how the pressure on his chest eased for a moment when he was with you. Even more so when you had left the address.

The next morning, a wad of cash from Shelby Company Limited shows up at one of your drop locations. It’s more than you asked for and quicker than you expected it to come. You smirk softly and get to work.

---

Tommy doesn’t see you again until he pays a visit to Sabini’s club a few years later as he works on his London expansion. He had been a client of yours for nearly two years now and he was continuosly impressed with your work. You literally had eyes everywhere; there wasn’t a place between Manchester and Brighton that you couldn’t get to. You had been the one feeding him inside information about Sabini’s operations in London, as well as how to get Alfie Solomon’s attention.

Despite all this work, he hasn’t seen you since you approached him when he was high in the empty pub. He gets all his information through courriers, telephone calls from messengers, and packages from drop locations all over the city. He asked a courrier once why he hasn’t seen you since.

“No one really sees her, sir. We just get orders in one way or another, we excecute them, and then money shows up. She doesn’t want anyone to tie her to her clients or the boots on the ground.”

“She’s clever.”

“She’s bloody brilliant, is what she is. She’s set up this system so bloody tight that no one really knows how it works except her. One lad up in Coventry tried to turn her in. Went missing a few days later.”

He doesn’t think about you often, but when he does, he’s reminded of that night in The Garrison; how mysterious and beautiful and dangerous you looked, how his chest seemed less tight with you around. Maybe he’s imagined it. Maybe it was the opium clouding his vision. So, he pushes those thoughts away because as far as he’s concerned, you’re an enigma. Hell, he doesn’t even know your name and he’s been paying you big money and giving away too much of his plans.

But he sees you that night when he and his brothers storm Sabini’s club. You’re sitting on a fancy velvet lounging chair, tucked under the arm of what Tommy assumes is a wealthy banker or socialite. You don’t see him (not yet, at least) but Tommy sees you. All Tommy sees is you. The smoke that flows out of your nostrils as your lips curl at whatever attempt at humour then man with you made draws Tommy in. So does the cut of your deep blue, satin dress. He knows it then, that you’re real. That you’re not a figment of his imagination.

“This place is something else, innit?” Arthur remarks as they make their way deeper and deeper into the club. Tommy is still drawn to you as his brothers gawk at the permiscuous behaviour around them.

The party atmosphere doesn’t last long however, as the boys make a show out of trashing the place. Tommy makes sure to put on a performance, to play up the fear. When he shouts something along the lines of being on a holiday, he happens to catch your eye and the first thing he notices is the smirk playing on your lips. He’s first confused as to why but he understands: you had a large part of the London expansion and you also likely knew that Tommy was going to be there that night. You weren’t there with a man. You were there to see him. You were there to see his reckoning.

The image of you tattooed itself onto Tommy’s brain and the feeling he felt in his chest was something he craved to feel again.

---

The next morning, the brothers stumble into Ada’s home, uninvited. Their younger sister begrudgingly lets them in, still clad in her nightgown, and hastily tells them to keep their noise level down as Karl was still sleeping.

It doesn’t last very long.

“You shoulda seen their bloody faces, Ades!” John hollers, mouth full of biscuits and tea. Ada hisses at him for spewing food across the table.

“Didn’t know what was coming, the lot of them,” Arthur adds, already taking a sip from a flask. He was barely sober from the night before and it wasn’t even eight in the morning. “Fuckin’ Sabini, Ada. He won’t know what’s bloody comin’.”

“Sabini, eh?” Ada plays along, still slightly annoyed but now intriguied. “You didn’t happen to hit up his club last night, did you?”

“’Course we did!” John snickers. “What’d you think we’d do, start small?”

Ada’s facial expression suddenly changes into one of slightly more concern. Arthur and John don’t notice, but Tommy does. “I was hopin’ you would,” Ada plays it off but Tommy notices.

“Ada?” he asks, voice stern but eyes curious. His sister was intelligent, so much so that her mouth was as good at getting her out of trouble as it was getting her in it. Tommy was sure that there was more than what she let on.

“Tom?” Ada says back, not meeting his gaze and instead taking a bite out her toast and jam.

“Why’re you so hung up on Sabini’s club?” Tommy asks directly, slowly getting tired of his sister’s semantics. He mommentarily understands how Polly feels when he keeps things from her.

Ada sighs, having also attracted attention from her two other brothers. She sets down her toast and looks directly at Tommy. “You saw her, didn’t you?”

“Saw who?” Arthur asks, booming voice too loud for the sudden change of tone in the room. Ada grimaces but still stares at Tommy.

Tommy knows exactly who she’s talking about. But he wonders how Ada does.

“I did,” he says simply.

“Who’re you talkin’ about?” John asks next, looking between his siblings. Arthur shrugs at him.

“Did you say anything to her?”

“No.”

“Good,” Ada says too quickly. Tommy narrows his eyes at her.

“For God’s sake!” Arthur says again, slamming his tea cup back down onto the table. “Who in the bloody hell are you talkin’ about?”

Ada rolls her eyes and continues eating and Tommy is left to stare at his brothers. He wants to answer. He wants to answer so badly. But he doens’t even know her name.

“I—” Tommy trails off. He’s rarely rendered speechless, but he is when it comes to you. Who were you? Why did Ada know you? Why can’t he get you out of his head? Why does he hope you’re standing there in the shadows every time he steps out on the street?

“You? You what, Tom?” John asks this time, equally as exasperated.

“He doesn’t know and it should stay that way,” Ada says simply. “She offers you a service, you pay her, end of transaction. Stay away from her Tommy, I mean it.”

“What service?” John asks again, still getting more questions than answers.

Tommy sighs, rubbing a hand over his face. “After Grace, she offered me a service. Cash in exchange for information. Said she knew that I needed a sense of security.” She was right, Tommy thinks but doesn’t dare say.

“Information about what, exactly?” Arthur asks, voice dropping an octave as he leans forward.

“Everything. Anything and everything. She knows everything. I don’t have the slightest clue how,” Tommy answers honestly, his own disbelief being obvious for the first time.

“She can betray us...” John warns, skeptical especially after Grace.

“She won’t,” Ada says simply.

“How do you know?” John challenges.

“She won’t,” Ada reaffirms with a glint in her eye. John immediatley backs down. Ada doens’t trust easily, especially after Freddie.

Tommy believes her. You know too much, far too much. More than he or you had bargained for. You also gave too much. Tommy asked for one thing, you gave him what he wanted and more. Tommy wanted a brief description of the shipping business in Bristol, you gave him an itemized list. Tommy asked you to keep an eye out for any potential threats, you gave him incredibly precise weekly reports. He asked people what your service was like as if he didn’t already know himself: you were never this thorough. He knew you wouldn’t betray him because you would have done it already. The question is, why did Ada trust her?

“You know who she is, don’t you?” Tommy asks his sister once again, doing his best to intimidate her. It’s no use.

“I do,” Ada says simply.

“Even her name?”

John scoffs. “You don’t even know her bloody name and you’ve got that look like you’re in love? Jesus, Tom! You need a good fuckin’, I’m telling you.”

Ada ignores her brother’s comment. “Even her name.”

Tommy gestures for her to elaborate and Ada hesitantly continues, “Polly paid her to find me after Karl was born. She found me personally, not through a messenger. We got along quite well, she was very honest about what she’d been hired to do. She gave Polly that information she was looking for, but we kept in touch. Personally, I mean. I like her.”

“Tell me her name, Ada.”

Ada makes a face of fake appeasement. “Can’t do that, sorry Tom.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. “Ada...” he warns.

Ada’s glare mathces his own. “Her identity is all she’s got Tommy. The minute a client knows who she is, it all falls apart. For the love of God, for your safety and hers, don’t find her.”

And hell, does Tommy want not to listen. He wants to find you again. To see you. To speak to you. To learn your name. To feel the weight in his chest lighten once more.

But you remained impossible to find. Even with his London expansion, he wasn’t any closer to finding out who you really were than the day you first spoke to him at The Garrison.

So, he tried to push his thoughts away. He didn’t get so lucky.

---

He was used to receiving messages from you on Sunday evenings before the week began and Thursday mornings before the week ended. Sometimes, they’d be in the form of a phone call from a messnger reading a message written by you. Other times, he would visit a drop site where he picked up parcels of information and evidence you had collected. Fridays were paydays, so he’d get a Blinder to drop a parcel of cash (though they never knew it was cash) at a drop site and wait for a courrier with a blue ribbon pinned under the lapel of their overcoat to retrieve it.

All your foot solidiers and clients wore the ribbons. You avoided paper trails so everything was with symbols. Ribbon colours were a discrete way for both the client and the courrier to tell who was who. Clients wore white ribbons, courriers wore blue ones, messengers wore green ones, and red ones were used for emergencies.

That’s why Tommy panicked when a man burst into his office late at night the day before he was set to take down Sabini, urgently lifting his lapel to show his red ribbon.

“What’s happened? Are we in danger?” Tommy asks immediatley, standing up from his chair.

“No, sir,” the foot soldier said. They were never allowed to say the names of clients, only sir and ma’am. “I have a message from her. It was urgent and couldn’t have waited until Thursday.”

The man gives him a sealed envelope before bowing and leaving as quickly as he came. Tommy checks to make sure that he is alone before ripping it open. It wasn’t a message, but a phone number and the word clairvoyant scribbled quickly with fancy ink.

Tommy furrows his eyebrows but picks up his phone and dials the operator. The other end picks up immediately. He hastily says the number he wants to be patched through to as well as the word scribbled below it. The operator says nothing else and he hears the phone ring again before a female voice finally picks up.

“Mr. Shelby, I was waiting for your call.”

It was you. Tommy’s heartbeat quickens. You continue to speak, oblivious to his shock, “I don’t make calls myself unless absolutely neccassary. You don’t need to worry about privacy; I have connections with the operating center that patched you through. They won’t say a word to anyone, telling them that you called and they won’t be listening.”

Truthfully, Tommy hadn’t even been thinking of that. He was still slightly shocked that he was hearing your voice, the same voice as nealry three years ago. The opium fucked with a lot of things, but not his sense perception. Your voice was as beautiful as he remembered it to be.

He forces the thoughts out of his head and finally speaks. “What’s happened? Is there an emergency?”

“You aren’t safe at the races tomorrow. There will be an attempt on your life.”

Tommy is not entirely surprised. “I’m sure you can put two and two together; what I plan to do at the races is practically a suicide mission, dear. Of course there’ll be an attempt on my life.”

You scoff at the other end of the line. “Mr. Shelby, I’ll rephrase: you may succeed in your plan tomorrow, but something will catch you off-guard. Something big.”

“What is it, then? If you’re so sure,” Tommy challenges, but is taken aback by the silence.

You sigh, defeated at the other end of the line. “Mr. Shelby, I’ll be honest. An Inspector Campbell approached me this morning, asking for my services to give him everything I knew about you plans tomorrow. I took his money.”

Tommy’s jaw clenches. “You called me to tell me you’re a fuckin’ conspirator against me now, eh?”

“I resent that. There’s a reason I ask you not to tell me anything about your business aside from what I need to know to do my job,” you snap back. “Campbell gave me money to tell him information I didn’t have. So, I took the money and told him lies. He didn’t pay enough money to turn me against one of clients anyway and I don’t negotiate.”

Tommy laughs in slight disbelief, “You clever bloody woman.”

You can’t help but grin at the other end of the line. “He let it slip that he had something planned, though. That you weren’t getting out of this alive. Thomas, I don’t know what and I don’t have enough time to find out, but you needed to know,” you say before soflty adding, “I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I didn’t tell you.”

Tommy nods solemnly before saying, “That’s the first time you’ve called me Thomas.”

You laugh and Tommy’s heart clenches at the sound. “Is that what you choose to focus on?” you ask, amused despite your worry.

“I’m not afraid of death. Not anymore,” Tommy answers.

“It’s a shame. There seems to be a lot in your life that’s worth living for,” you reply, your voice softer that Tommy’s ever heard it.

“Will you do me one final favour? Take it as my dying wish.”

“Thomas—” you start before he cuts you off.

“Can you tell me your name?” he finally asks, but he’s met with silence. He clears his throat and adds, “Please?”

You sigh at the other end. This is not how you were supposed to conduct business. Anonymity was the only thing keeping you from being excecuted at the hands of the Crown or a crime-boss. But here the feared Thomas Shelby was, asking as his dying wish to know your name. You don’t know him aside from your brief interactions and stories from Ada. But strangely, you trust him with the key keeping your identity safe.

“Y/N. My name’s Y/N.”

---

The following evening, Tommy trudges home covered in mud and blood. His encounter with the face of death was anticipated, but still left him scarred. Despite his success against the races and against Sabini, he felt trapped. With a success in the business, he still finds himself indebted to Winston Churchill. He’s exhaused of this cycle and in the moment, he embraced his fate just a little.

As he pushed the door to his home open, his eyes are immediately drawn to crackling fire. He hadn’t expected anyone to be home, as the family was staying in London with Ada to celebrate their successes.

So the sight of you, sitting on his couch and staring into the fire shocked the life back through him.

He takes of his hat and stares at you in slight disbelief. “So, you’re real.”

You turn to face him and the tension previously present in your features fell and the corner of your lip quirked upwards. “You’re alive,” you state the obvious.

“The Devil’s tried too many time to kill me, I’m starting to wonder if God does exist,” he says plainly, taking off his coat and taking a seat on the other end of the couch from you.

A small laugh escapes you. “He has jokes, does he?”

Tommy smiles softly but shakes his head and stares at you. “You’re really real. I was starting to think I was imagin’ ya.”

“Ada says you’ve been asking about me.”

“I have. She wouldn’t tell me your name, though.”

“You got it anyway.”

“Who’s to deny a man his dying wish?” Tommy darkly jokes again.

“I can’t go back to operating how things were. Even you knowing my name is too much,” you say softly, turning back to the fire. You were slightly frustrated with yourself. Years and years of building a network built around your anonymity destroyed by one man. Deep down, you felt that it was time.

“I wouldn’t tell anyone,” Tommy says simply.

“But you’d want to be in my life,” you say back, still not looking away from the fire. “I’m a woman, but I’m not stupid. I know why you tried to look for me.”

Tommy sits back and watches her. A woman’s never been more direct with him before. Even Grace, who had just asked him to lay with her one final time before moving back to America at the races, had never laid out what she saw so simply and bluntly before. She was right. Tommy wouldn’t tell anyone your name if you asked him to, but he would still want to see you. The only thing more painful than not knowing who you were was knowing and still not being able to see you.

“You could start again,” Tommy says. He barely recongizes the softness in his own tone, but he decides the change is good. “You could work for me, have your men join the Blinders if they wanted.”

“I don’t work for anyone, Mr. Shelby,” you say again cheekily, reminding him of the first time the two of you spoke. You turn to face him and stop to admire his beauty—how the fire cast beautiful shadows across his face, how the moonlight sparkled in his eyes.

“That you don’t,” Tommy hums in agreement, still looking at you. His gaze hadn’t left you since he came home.

It’s silent for a few moments before Tommy says, “Stay.”

“With you?” you ask in slight surprise.

“With me, in Small Heath, with the company—whatever you want. Just stay.”

“You barely know me.”

“Then let me get to know you, Y/N,” Tommy answers, finally saying your name for the first time. He loves the way it spills off his tongue and you equally adore the sound of his voice when he says it.

You nod softly, agreeing with his hearfealt proposition. The two of you spent the rest of the night staring into the fire, allowing your heartbeats and breaths come into sync as you slowly fell asleep.

---

It’s been five years since you had started working for Shelby Company Limited as Tommy’s senior advisor and security specialist, four years since your network of spies had merged with the Peaky Blinders, three years since you and Tommy got married, two years since you gave birth to a set of twins named Benjamin and Mae Shelby, and one year since you had also become a political advisor to your husband and his allies in Parliament.

With your years together, the Shelby family found you to be an intriguing, fascinating, and intimidatingly wonderful woman. They couldn’t comprehend how right you seemed with Tommy. They also couldn’t comprehend how involved you were in their success without them even knowing who you were. However, they love to poke fun at Tommy for basically falling in love with from two interactions.

You were currently at the Arrow House doing the final touch-ups to your makeup for the gala you were hosting in your home. It was a typical charity ball that made sleezy politicians look good in the eyes of their constituants, but you had pressured Tommy to allow you to host it on behalf of the Shelby Family Institute. He had been skeptical, but relented when you reminded him that it wasn’t about giving them a platform to look good, but using their ego to benefit the institute.

“I’ve put the children to bed,” Polly announces as she walks into the master bedroom. The room is obscenely large with a king sized bed in the middle, but Polly can’t help but feel pride every time she visits. It was the both of your hardwork that you got you here and she was proud. “Ben passed out almost immediatley, but you’re right about Mae. She’s a trouble maker.”

You give Polly a smile through the mirror of the vanity you sat in front of, “Thank you, Pol. Really.”

“Where’s that bastard husband of yours?” Polly jokes as she stands behind you, inspecting her pearls in the mirror.

“His study, no doubt,” you joke with a slight smirk.

“The faith the two of you have in my is astounding,” Tommy says sarcastically, immerging through the en-suite dressed in his tuxedo.

Polly rolls her eyes and leaves the room, leaving the couple to stare at each other.

“You clean up well, Mr. Shelby,” you state, smiling as he approaches you. “Though I’m not sure if that’s because of you or your OBE.”

“Sometimes, I wonder if I should have continued loving you at a distance,” he comments humourously.

You laugh—a real laugh—and wrap your hands around his neck while his arms immediately find themselves around your waist.

“How’re you feeling, darling?” Tommy asks, referring to the mental and emotional preparation for the event that was about to start downstairs.

“I’m not the biggest fan of a lot of your colleagues, Tom,” you say honestly. “Their wives however...they give me thousands of pounds worth of information every sentence.”

“You never cease to amaze me with that mind of yours,” he tells you honestly.

“And you never cease to amaze me with how verbally affectionate you can be,” you quip back lightheartedly before Tommy softly kisses your lips.

“How ‘bout this?” he says once you pull away. “I take care of getting donations, you take care of getting more leverage on the labour bill I’m looking to pass.”

“Done,” you say with a smile before Tommy kisses you again. You begin to hear cars pull into the driveway when you try to pull away, but he keeps you close.

“Tom,” you giggle, breathless. “Tom, the guests are arriving.”

“I’ve waited for you for years, they can wait for you a little while longer,” he replies with a smirk before kissing you deeply once again.

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onlyfreds · 4 years ago

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Yours Forever (Pt. 2) | F.W.

Title: Yours Forever (Pt. 2)

Requested: Yes/No, requested by @lunylovelovegood

Summary: After the wedding, comes the honeymoon

A/N: I was so excited when she was asking for a part two. I have no idea how good is this, but I hope you’ll enjoy it.

Part 1

I woke up to Fred peppering kisses all over my face.

“Good morning Mrs. Weasley.” He greeted in his morning voice, his hands travelling up and down my waist, the cold metal of his wedding band could be felt against my skin.

I smiled, pressing a chaste kiss on his lips, “Good morning my love!”

He pulled me closer to him, muzzling his head into the crook of my neck, “How was your night?”

“It was the best one of my life.” I answered with a small smile, my mind travelling back to the events of the past night.

A smirk graced his features as he winked, “I told you so.”

I playfully smacked his chest as he leaned down and captured my lips into a kiss.

I giggled, getting up from our comfortable position, “Come on.” I said, emitting a groan from Fred, “If you don’t move now, we’ll miss our flight.”

Fred pouted, making grabby hands towards me, “Do we have to get up now?”

I nodded, “Unless you want to miss our flight.”

He stood up, turning to me a pouty face as I giggled and kissed him.

“Come on, New York won’t wait for us.”

After getting out of our 8-hour flight to New York, we immediately headed to our hotel to settle in.

With the help of Hermione, we were able to book a suite at the west side end of the building, where we had the perfect view of the sunset.

“Wow!” Fred marveled, “how did you even manage to get this?”

I chuckled, placing my arms around his neck as I looked up at him, “I’ve had help, but I promise, it didn’t cost that much.”

He smiled placing his hands on my waist, “You’re bloody brilliant! You know that?”

“You tell me that almost every single day.”

“Well now, I can tell you that for the rest of forever.”

Later that day, the two of us were walking hand in hand, down the beach on Long Island.

I couldn’t help but admire the wedding band on my finger that was shining brightly in the sunlight.

“Penny for your thoughts?” Fred suddenly said, pulling me out of my daydream.

I gave him a small smile, giving the ring another glance, “Just can’t believe that this is it, we’re finally married.”

He chuckled, pulling me closer to him by the belt loops of my jeans.

“Well, it has been something we’ve been dreaming off since we first met.” Fred reminisced, smiling fondly at the memory.

I giggled, “It was definitely worth the wait.”

He smiling, leaning forward and kissing me passionately, “Ya know, if we only eloped when we were eighteen- “

“Molly would’ve killed the both of us Freddie.”

The mischievous glint that made me fall for him in the first place suddenly sparkled in his eyes, “Race you to the water.” He suddenly said, leaving me in the dust.

“Hey! Cheater!” I said, running after him.

As expected, he got there first and started splashing water towards me.

“Slowpoke.” He teased, sticking his tongue out at me.

I splashed more water in his face, “You had a greater advantage.”

We went on like this for hours, the childish side of both of us that never really left coming out to play.

I looked around, not being able to find my husband anywhere, when I suddenly felt a pair of strong arms flung around my waist and pull me into the water.

“Fred!” I yelped, smacking his arm as his laughter filled the air.

We were soaked from head to toe, but we didn’t care at all.

We laced our fingers together as we sat on the sand, watching the impending sunset.

Fred lazily rubbed his thumb over the back of my hand, causing me to lean in further into his touch.

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.” He suddenly said.

I sat up and looked at him, his gaze was still fixed upon the horizon, a million miles away.

“I literally wouldn’t be sitting here right now if it weren’t for you.” He continued.

I placed a hand on his cheek, diverting his attention to me.

“And I wouldn’t be complete without you Freddie.” I said softy, gently rubbing my thumb over his cheek.

“You’ve seen me at my best and at my worst. You’ve stuck with me when the sun shines and even through my darkest days. I would give you the whole world if I could Freddie, but we both know that the world is not mine to give. So, the least that I could do is give you my world. Because you deserve that, and so much more.” I said.

He was silent for a few moments before he took my wrist and pulled me in for a kiss.

He rested his hand on the small of my back as he situated me onto his lap, having me straddle him.

What started out as a kiss in the heat of the moment, quickly turned into a passionate make-out session.

We would pause for a breath, but pick up where we left off almost immediately.

“I love you princess, so much.” He said, after what seemed like hours.

I giggled, “I love you too, until the end of time.”

I leaned down on his chest, admiring the stars that painted the night sky.

Once nightfall has arrived, we decided to head back to our hotel.

“Don’t you think it’s a bit too early to call it a night princess?” Fred asked, a cheeky smirk gracing his features.

I bit my lip to hide my smile, “Dunno, what did you have in mind?” I asked, already knowing the answer.

He scooped me up bridal style, heading to the bed, “I think it’ll be better if I show you instead.”

𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝

@lumosandnoxwriting @whizboingies @wand3ringr0s3 @famdomhideout

#fredweasley #fred weasley fanfiction #fredweasleyimagines #fred weasley fluff #fredweasleyfanfic #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #fredweasleyoneshots #weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley story #married #honeymoon #hpimagines #hponeshots

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cursestothemoon · 3 years ago

Text

Werewolves Of London ( I )

Multiple Part Series

Part I

When Their Eyes Locked

Word Count: 2016

Fred Weasley x Fem!Werewolf!Reader

Summary: Fred can’t seem to stop himself from staring at you. What happens when your eyes lock?

Warnings: raunchy banter, description of turning into a werewolf (description of pain and screaming), being in pain, Y/n has a very prominent scar on her face idk if this is a warning (personally i don’t think it is but you can never be too careful😌)

A/N: Alrighttttt chapter one guys, pretty exciting😗. It’s kinda slow, really just introducing characters, background, and existing relationships. AH I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE ITTTT, also best friend Lily makes a comeback (not Lily Evans)

“Come on! We’re gonna miss it!”

“We’re not gonna miss shit, either it happens here or it happens there.”

“I’d prefer the latter.”

Cedric let out a snort as he looked back at you, his scarf flapping in the wind and nearly hitting him in the face.

The wind was harsh this Saturday evening, overcast and gloomy, as three students were making their way to the Whomping Willow. The trek was meant to be a quiet one, a sneaky departure from the castle, but of course that was never the case. Not when Cedric Diggory seemed to ooze happiness and joy with each step, his smile warming the crisp, cool air around him; not when Lily Mclaggen (older sister of Cormac) had just as much snap as her brother had confidence and especially not when Y/n L/n, a sarcastic lycanthrope, was about seven minutes away from being in the midst of the full moon.

A sickeningly loud cracking started to sound from behind Cedric, making him turn to see you doubled over.

“Lily!”

“Calm down!”

You groaned, “I’m fine, let’s just go.”

Lily hooked her arm around your waist, shoving you toward the Whomping Willow that Cedric had fortunately petrified. You were able to just catch the familiar badger disappear into the hole under the tree. The pain was excruciating, making your knees give way and your body hit the ground as you felt what seemed to be your bones breaking, muscles tearing, skin stretching to accommodate the form of a beastly form. Groans and screams were pulled from your throat as you transformed, your hands scratching at your neck- or any exposed skin really- to somehow try and claw the pain away.

One last blood curdling scream turned into a strangled howl at the bright moon.

The werewolf stood up, shaking off the dirt from the ground, before snapping at whatever was nipping at its tail. A bone-chilling laugh sounded in the dim tunnel before the hyena gestured toward the badger to start making their way to the shrieking shack through the dark tunnel- the werewolf followed, it didn’t like being alone for long.

“Let’s go Fred, before Filch catches up.” George huffed out, his chest heaving from the vigorous running his lungs had to endure just moments prior.

His twin stood still, faint breaths passing from his lips the only thing being heard, his honey brown eyes taking in the vastness of the dark navy sky before him.

Fred had always loved the moon.

If he thought about it hard enough, George could still feel the harsh swats to his rear from when their mother found them out in the field behind the Burrow after Fred had insisted on sneaking out to look at the moon.

George groaned, “It’s just the moon, it’ll be there tomorrow, the day after that and I’m willing to bet my left ear that the moon will be there everyday after that.”

“Yeah but,” Fred grumbled, dramatically gesturing toward the sky with his hand. “It’s a full moon tonight, won’t be full tomorrow now will it?”

The attitude was clear in his tone, even more so in his raised eyebrows and pointed look. George conceded with a laugh, muttering out an ‘alright, Freddie’.

A piercing howl ripped through the silence making the brothers jump and look toward where it had come from- somewhere down near Hogsmeade they’d guess.

Fred slowly turned to his brother, speaking just barely above a whisper, “You think it was a werewolf?”

He had the same glint of mischief in his eyes that he’d get when he was younger and itching to tell a scary story.

George only shook his head, “In Hogsmeade?” He questioned. “Surely, you’re daft Freddie, what would a werewolf be doing in Hogsmeade?”

A shrug was his only response, before he added, “Wouldn’t be too surprising now would it? We’ve got a pink toad in Hogwarts.”

---

Your steps were slow and calculated as you made your way to the Great Hall. Cedric had his arm around your shoulder, no doubt trying to subtly check and see if the bandages he wrapped had held up when you changed into fresh clothes, and Lily had a habit of walking one or two steps behind you just after a full moon- you had a habit of stumbling or even losing balance completely during the few days following.

“You’re looking a lot better than last time, walking around and not stuck in the hospital wing.” Lily commented quietly.

Cedric nodded in agreement, “Yeah, it’s rather boring without your company.”

The comment was meant to rile up Lily, which it did beautifully.

“Right git you are, Diggory, you’re the boring one. You prefects, I swear-”

Lily continued on to grumble about all prefects being the same as you three made it through the doors and to your usual seats- the farthest table to the right, near the large window, and in between a few Hufflepuffs and a couple scattered Gryffindors.

Heat seemed to trail up your shoulder and to your face, the feeling of eyes on you had you inwardly wincing. You never felt too confident the morning after a full moon and it was most mornings that you could feel the heated weight of Fred Weasley’s eyes on you. Amazingly enough, you resisted the urge to turn and meet his gaze instead opting for taking a seat on the bench in between Cedric and Lily and placing your head on Lily’s shoulder lethargically.

On the other side of the room, Lee was slowly chewing on his bite of sugary cereal as he studied the eldest twin.

“You know, mate, you could just talk to her.” He offered up, making Fred rapidly blink as he was brought back to reality.

He frowned, “We’ve been in the same house for seven years, if she wanted to talk to me… she would’ve.”

His eyes seemed to naturally shift back to your form. You were half asleep, head resting on your friend’s shoulder as prettyboy Diggory couldn’t seem to wipe the bright smile off his face so early in the morning.

Fred had always noticed you. In your first year you had offered him your seat in potions next to George because it ‘didn’t feel right’ splitting him and George up on the first day of school- or so you had said before you went to sit next to another first year, Lily.

Second year was when he started to really pay attention to the rather heartwarming- or so Angelina had called it- closeness of your relationship with Lily. You were a sickly child, it seemed almost every month you had come down with something. Fred could remember seeing little twelve year old you sitting near the fireplace in the Gryffindor common room, head on Lily’s shoulder just as it was now and your face incredibly pale yet a warm smile still gracing your lips.

It was the third year when Fred started to realize his curious looks and sweaty palms were not something that just happened. He liked you. The quiet remarks you made under your breath and comedically uncontrollable reactions had him swooning. Third year was also the year that the infamous duo of Y/n and Lily had turned into a trio, prettyboy Diggory finding a cozy spot attached to your hip. It seemed everywhere you went, Cedric was there too.

It was during third year Fred learned about jealousy.

“How do you suppose she got her scar?” Lee asked in a hushed voice not wanting to be overheard.

Fred thought back to when he had first seen you with the gash trailing down from the arch of your left eyebrow to the apple of your right cheek, passing over the bridge of your nose. Sure he had seen you roughed up before, mundane bruises and scratches he imagines you received from being clumsy or maybe roughhousing with siblings he didn’t know you had (Merlin knows Fred himself had enough marks from his brothers roughing him up, all in good fun of course). This was different- violent, it seemed- nothing friendly could’ve made such an angry infliction.

“Does it matter?” Fred mumbled rather defensively. “She’s still...angelic.” He muttered with little regard as to what he was actually saying- his attention was stolen by the grimace that darkened your face as you shifted in your seat to reach for a box of chocolatey cereal.

George faked a dramatic gag, “Sods been a right sap for that girl for years now, still hasn't done a single thing.”

“Give him time,” Lee laughed, moving to shove Fred’s arm teasingly. “Fred’ll man up eventually.”

The seemingly lovestruck boy rolled his eyes at the two, “Fuck off, both of you wankers.”

The full moon and weekend had come and gone, the bitter taste of the start of a new school week was on everyone’s tongue as they made their way to their last class Monday afternoon.

You trudged into the dimly lit potions room, the brooding figure of Severus Snape doing nothing to lighten the atmosphere.

“Afternoon, Professor.” You quietly greeted as you slid into your seat.

The man seemed to only grumble out a response, not deeming a proper return of greeting worthy of his time- though you preferred this, rather not wanting to strike up a conversation with the potions Professor.

Lily clambered into the seat beside you, her usual seat, just a few seconds before class started. Her hair was frazzled and her tie a tad askew, silently you handed her a compact mirror from your book bag- though the smirk on your lips was loud.

“Don’t look so smug.” She teased, hand combing down her hair. “You’ve seen the thighs on Natasha Ravenforth, was I just supposed to deny myself the pleasure?”

Her tone was filled with incredulity, eyes wide and questioning almost as if she really couldn’t fathom the thought of not snogging the curvy Hufflepuff just before class. You kept silent, though your smile grew as you felt Lily’s eyes trained on you before she huffed and looked toward Professor Snape who was now beginning his lesson.

The class seemed to drone on, a long lecture from the monotone Severus Snape the only thing filling the agenda had the pace of the lesson slowed to an aching crawl. As your ears started to tune out his painful drawl you noticed it. Like an itch you couldn’t scratch or a twitch you just couldn’t shake, you could feel someone’s eyes on you. You turned to meet the person’s gaze, curiosity indeed killed the cat, and you were met with the honey-brown irises of none other than Fred Weasley. He seemed to be looking at you, or just passed you, with his chin resting on his folded forearms. His lack of reaction to you catching him staring led you to believe he was far too zoned out to know what he was doing, that is until he blinked a few times and his eyes snapped up to meet yours.

You didn’t really know him. Fred Weasley seemed to be everywhere and nowhere all at once, he was elusive and loud and if you weren’t careful you’d definitely find yourself falling for his toothy grin or boyish charm.

Your eyes seem to lock and you couldn’t help but furrow your eyebrows at the feeling fluttering deep within your chest at the way his facial expression seemed to soften and his head tilt ever so gently as his eyes swam with what you could only describe as- for lack of better words- wonder.

A nudge to your ribs brought you back to reality, Lily’s elbow still prodding at your torso until you turned to face the front of the class again just as Professor Snape was turning away from the board he had stuck his nose to whilst writing notes.

With one glance at Lily you could see the irritatingly smug smirk stretching across her face, her eyes still looking forward.

“Don’t look so smug.” You grumbled, roughly picking up your quill to take down notes.

tags:

@siriusement

@amourtentiaa

@vsawyer1989

@lifeofkaze

@theorangedrummer

@erinruby003

@famdomhideout

@an2402lths

@escapingrealitybyreading

@readyg0erge

@maybesandohnos

@therealhouseelvesofhogwarts

@onlyfreds

#fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley series #fred weasley x werewolf!reader

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helnjk · 4 years ago

Text

Crazier - F.W.

Fred Weasley x fem!reader

This was written for @vivianweasley ‘s 400 writing challenge! I used the song Crazier (by Taylor Swift) from the Hannah Montana movie hihi. Congrats on the milestone lovely ❤️ I hope you enjoy 🧚🏼‍♀️

Word count: 2.6k

Warnings: just fluff! and wedding vibes 💗

A/N: ok but this song is ADORABLE ! it makes me so giddy when I listen to it (& i did, A LOT, especially in the process of writing this)

Flashbacks are italicized

---

Feels like I'm falling and I'm lost in your eyes

There was something special about a war time wedding.

The atmosphere surrounding the Burrow seemed to glow in the morning light. The gentle breeze rustled the surrounding fields and the sun was just peaking across the horizon. Champagne colored rays burst from between the clouds littered in the sky, providing warmth for anyone who found themselves outside. Despite the early hour, the residents (and guests) of the Weasley household were already up, busying themselves with tasks that Molly had assigned them.

You found yourself still wrapped in your fluffy dressing gown, nursing a warm cup of tea in your hands as you directed Fred and George. You three were in charge of making sure the flowers, arches, and chairs were all ready for the upcoming ceremony. A smile couldn’t help but inch its way onto your face as you watched Fred jokingly shove George and cause him to lose his footing for a moment.

The soft laugh that escaped your lips caught his attention and your eyes locked. Brown eyes glimmered with mischief and adoration met yours and you couldn’t help the fluttering of butterflies in your stomach.

“Oi! Be nice to your brother, Fred!” You called out as George once again lost his balance, “We don’t want him losing any other body part!”

“Don’t be silly, Y/N.” He retorted, pretending to look like he wasn’t about to send a jelly-legs jinx his brother’s way, “He’s a big boy, he can handle it!”

You made your way towards the boys who couldn’t stop roughhousing with each other now, “Well regardless, we’ve got to get the flowers and arches up and perfect before your mother comes and has a right fit!”

Slightly amused at how much you reminded them of their mother in that moment, the twins stopped horsing around and actually got their wands out to be as efficient as possible. You were able to get back to peacefully sipping on your tea and telling them where they should put certain flowers and which arch belonged where.

The sun was fully risen when the three of you finished, standing side by side admiring your handiwork.

“Great job team!” George announces, patting both you and Fred on the shoulder before turning on his heel, “I’m gonna go check and see if mom’s made some food! I’m starving!”

Before you could follow him, Fred’s arm wrapped around your waist and pulled you from behind. Your back connected with his chest in a huff, and he placed his head on your shoulder, “Yes, Freddie?” You giggled.

“Nothing love,” He kissed the side of your neck, “Just love you, is all.”

Your heart fluttered at the simple words and you practically melted in his arms, “Where’d that come from?”

“The whole atmosphere of today, of the wedding, I dunno” He hummed, “It just made me think of seeing you walk down the aisle in a white dress in the future.”

Turning around in his grasp and wrapping your arms around his neck, your eyes met and it was the most genuine and sincere you had ever seen Fred look. It made your heart stutter and butterflies fill your stomach.

“You’re such a sap, Fred Weasley,” There was no malice in your voice, just adoration for the wonderful man in front of you.

“Only for you darling.”

Bill and Fleur’s wedding was nothing short of magical.

The moment the blushing bride walked down the aisle, the crowd seemed to freeze in awe of her beauty. But nothing could compare to how she glowed the moment she reached the arms of her loving husband.

As the newlyweds shared a loving kiss, your eyes locked with Fred’s and you were struck with the image of him in his best dress robes, pulling you in for a sweet kiss just like the one happening in front of you. When the redhead sent you a cheeky wink from across the room, you had no doubt in your mind that you wanted to marry him one day.

You couldn’t help but reminisce on the years past and how your relationship with the cheeky mischief maker developed.

I watched from a distance as you made life your own

Laughs rang through the crowded hallway as the Weasley twins rushed to get away from Filch. You rolled your eyes at their antics, but a small smirk graced your lips. Being yearmates and housemates with the rambunctious pair for four years now had allowed you to grow used to their mischievous pranks and their witty ideas.

“Oi, watch it Weasley!” You teased, turning to face the boys who nearly knocked you over in their rush to get away from the cranky caretaker.

“Sorry, Y/L/N!” One of them yelled over his shoulder, before the pair of them rounded the corner and disappeared from view.

Despite being in the same year and house as the twins, that was usually the most interaction you would have with them. Nothing against them, but you had your own group of friends and they had theirs. As much as you admired their mischief and wit, that wasn’t really your thing. You preferred to keep to yourself or your little group of friends, not fading into the shadows but not exactly stepping into the spotlight either.

When you were accidentally on the receiving end of their pranks meant for Snape, though, the twins forced themselves into your life.

You were sat on one of the beds in the hospital wing, waiting while Madam Pomfrey puttered around looking for some bruise cream and muttering under her breath about how dangerous the twins could be. You hid your smile behind your hand, it honestly wasn’t all that bad, you just had a bruise on your cheek and one on your shoulder. They were both sore and aching, but you knew it could be fixed in no time.

Before the mediwitch could apply any salve to your exposed shoulder, the twins burst into the hospital wing.

“Y/N!” One of them, you thought maybe George, yelled.

“Oh Merlin, we’re so sorry!” The other twin said as they reached you.

Madam Pomfrey began to protest the twins’ presence, but you were quick to reply, “It’s fine you guys. Madam Pomfrey’s just about to fix me up and I’ll be good as new!”

The rest of the week, the twins didn’t leave you alone. Constantly opening doors and pulling out chairs for you, the pair of them weaseled their way into your daily routine. You could feel them wriggling their way into your heart too, and you knew that there was no going back now.

Every sky was your own kind of blue

And I wanted to know how that would feel

“Y/N?” You turned around to the source of the voice only to be face to face with none other than Fred Weasley.

“Fred,” You breathed, hitching the books in your arms a little higher and tighter, “What’s up? Do you need something?”

The castle was decorated beautifully for the Christmas hols, and more importantly to impress the Beauxbatons and Durmstrang guests you were hosting that year, but you were in a bit of a rush and you couldn’t really stop and chat. The professors had made sure to assign as much schoolwork as possible before the break began, which meant you were scrambling to finish everything on time.

You noticed Fred rock back on his heels and shove his hands in the pockets of his robes, “Are you alright?” You asked.

“Huh? Oh yeah, I’m brilliant really,” He muttered, his eyes shifting around and his ears tinging pink ever so slightly.

“O-kay,” You said, “Sorry, Fred but I’m rushing to get some coursework finished. I’ll talk to you later, yeah?”

“Yeah, of course.” He mumbled as you turned on your heel and rushed away. His shoulders slumped slightly, “Bloody idiot, couldn’t get a word out of your mouth…”

Unknown to you, Fred walked all the way back to the common room muttering under his breath. The Yule Ball was coming up and the only person he wanted to take was you, he just needed to buck up enough courage to actually ask you. Every time he tried, though, he clammed up and nothing could come out of his mouth.

When you climbed through the portrait hole a while later, he was still sat on one of the couches, staring at the fireplace and brainstorming ideas of how he could gather up some of his Gryffindor courage and ask you a simple question. He actually made it a point to write down a few of them on some parchment, but most of them were crossed out.

Sonorus charm during breakfast

Sending her a letter (? possible)

Ask Hermione to ask her for me

He hadn’t noticed that you came in, so when you plopped down on the couch beside him, he almost jumped out of his seat. He looked right suspicious to you, trying to shove the piece of parchment he was holding back into the pocket of his robes. Knowing the kind of mischief he could cause you, you did what any other sane person would do.

“Accio parchment.” You said, pointing your wand at his robes. The paper flew out and into your open palm.

“No, Y/N-” He protested, but you stood up quickly and got out of his grabbing reach.

“What’s this Fred? Haven’t gotten any good ideas to ask someone to the Yule Ball?” You teased after skimming over his messy notes.

At that moment he thanked Merlin and Morgana that he hadn’t actually written down your name. Still, his ears and neck were pink and he could feel his face grow hot as you read over the dumb ideas he wrote down.

“That’s none of your business, don’t you think?” He mumbled, taking the parchment out of your hands and sticking it back safely in his pocket.

“Oh alright,” You smiled, “Just teasing!”

He nodded quickly then proceeded to make his way to the staircase, wanting to just curl up in bed and scream into his pillow. Something stopped him, though. He paused right at the doorway and turned to face you slowly.

“Y/N?” He said.

“Yeah, Fred?” You asked, busy trying to smooth down the disheveled uniform and hair that came from running away from him so quickly a few minutes before. You weren’t paying as much attention to the redhead as you should’ve, adjusting the strap of your bag on your shoulder.

“Do you want to go to the Yule Ball with me?”

His question rang through the empty common room and made you pause what you were doing.

“Sorry, what?” You asked, turning to look at him.

“Erm, I asked if you wanted to go to the Yule Ball with me,” He mumbled, rocking back on his heels.

A slow smile spread across your face, “Of course! I’d love to.”

“Great!” He nearly yelled, “Great, yeah. I can’t wait!”

You stood at the top of the staircase, your gown swishing gently as you made your way to where the rest of the students were waiting. Fred’s hair could easily be spotted above the crowd, so you weaved your way through to him.

When his eyes found yours the world seemed to stop. Blood rushed to his ears and his breath came out in short puffs. His vision seemed to tunnel and the only thing he could see was you. You looked absolutely stunning.

“Wow,” He breathed once you reached him, “I think I’ve just died and gone to heaven. You look phenomenal, Y/N.”

Your heart stuttered at the compliment, “Thanks, Fred. You look great too.”

Fred was nothing short of the perfect date. He held your waist as the two of you entered the Great Hall, held your seat out for you as you reached your table, and took your hand to lead you to the dance floor when it was time for the waltz. The both of you weren’t great dancers, but you stumbled and giggled through the whole thing with smiles on your faces.

When the two of you grew tired of dancing, he gently whispered in your ear, “D’you wanna get out of here?”

“Sure,” You smiled.

In a moment of bravery, you took his hand in yours as the two of you walked leisurely through the snow filled grounds. Heart still beating in your chest, you stole a glance in his direction. To your surprise, he wore a goofy smile on his face and his ears were slightly tinged pink. Instead of letting go, he squeezed your hand and led you to an empty bench.

You sat in peaceful silence for a few minutes, taking in the gorgeous decorations made for the ball, but after a while you asked “Knut for your thoughts?”

Fred turned to face you slightly and let out a small puff of breath, “I’ve actually wanted to talk to you about something.”

Your brows furrowed in concern, “What’s up?”

“I fancy the hell out of you, Y/N.” He breathed nervously, tucking a piece of hair behind his ear and staring at the ground.

“Oh Fred, I really fancy you too.” You grinned giddily, a small laugh leaving your lips.

His eyes widened at your statement and his grin seemed to match yours, “What’s so funny then?”

“Nothing,” You shrugged, snaking your arms around his neck, “I’ve just fancied you for so long, I just didn’t think you’d actually feel the same for me.”

Instead of replying, Fred swooped down and pressed a searing kiss on your lips. You gasped slightly, not expecting his lips to be on yours, but soon you melted into his touch. His arms wrapped around your waist before the two of you broke apart.

“That answer your question?” He breathed, going back in to peck your lips again and again until you were giggling and playfully slapping him on the chest.

“You’re really something else, Weasley.”

You lift my feet off the ground

You spin me around

You make me crazier crazier

“D’you wanna get out of here?” A familiar voice asked in your ear as strong arms wrapped around your waist.

“Now where have I heard that before?” You teased, placing a soft peck on Fred’s lips.

The wedding reception was in full swing now, a crowd of redheads filling the tent. You were standing to the side, taking in just how much happiness this event sparked in your life and in so many others’. It was as if the world stopped to celebrate the love that Bill and Fleur clearly felt for each other.

Without answering you, Fred merely took your hand in his and led you out into the dusk. The breeze cooling down your slightly warm skin.

“Care for a dance?” He grinned at you, holding out his hand when you two had reached a relatively empty area in the surrounding field.

“I thought you’d never ask,” You joked, taking his hand and putting your other one on his shoulder.

Gently, the two of you swayed together as the sun finally set beyond the horizon and as the first few stars appeared above you. No music was playing, nor was it needed, as you were wrapped around the love of your life.

He sighed contentedly, “When all this is over and we’ve won the war, I’m going to marry you.”

“Good,” You said confidently, “Because I want to spend the rest of my life with you, Fred Weasley.”

#vivianweasley400wc #Fred Weasley #Fred Weasley imagine #Fred Weasley imagines #Fred Weasley fic #Fred Weasley fics #Fred Weasley x reader #Fred Weasley x y/n

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callsign-mischief · 4 years ago

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The Gift of a Weasley Sweater is a Powerful Thing [F.W.]

Day 23 prompt of ‘A Very Harry Potter Christmas’ : ‘Weasley Sweater’

Thank you so much to @jamilelucato and @whack-ed for letting me participate in this writing challenge! I am so sorry it is extremely late, please forgive me. Hope you like it!

Fred Weasley x Female!Slytherin!Reader

Warnings: Mention of fighting, Umbridge, Umbridge’s using that quill, George being mean, a few cuss words, mention of “bloodtraitor” *if I missed anything that should be put into the warning, please let me know!*

Word Count: 6.5k (so sorry!)

As the Christmas holiday was quickly approaching and many students were preparing to leave the comfort of Hogwarts to spend time with their respected families, it was becoming increasingly normal to see different love-sick couples scattered about the castle basking in each other's presence to soak up every last ounce of time they could before being separated by the long vacation. What wasn’t normal, however, was seeing Fred Weasley spending any, and almost every, spare second he had with a girl doing the exact same thing. And to make it even more unusual, a Slytherin girl!

It was a few days before Christmas break and George Weasley has had enough of seeing his brother act like a lovesick fool.

“I do not know what is going on in that head of his but I’m right ‘bout to take my beaters bat and knock some sense into him. Thank Merlin she’s not wedged her way into coming home with us!” he huffs sending silent daggered glares toward his twin brother sitting a few feet down the way at the Gryffindor breakfast table with his serpent of a girlfriend nestled into his side. He couldn’t stand the sight. How did Fred Weasley, a proud Gryffindor of all people, become entranced with none other than a snake? It just didn't make sense!

From across the table, Lee Jordan casts a glance up towards the inter house couple before returning to face the boiling redhead sitting across from him. “Honestly George, I don’t know why you hate her so much, you've never even actually met her! She is actually quite nice y’know? She helped me escape Snape once, it was brilliant!”

“She’s a Slytherin, Lee! The whole lot of them can't be trusted…” he grumbles, taking a quick bite of his slice of toast before sipping his pumpkin juice and clearing his throat. “I don’t know what game she's playing but I’m gonna find out what it is. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

Lee could understand where the boy in front of him was coming from. Fred had never taken a liking to any Slytherin house member before, no matter who they were, up until the week before the end of the previous school year when you had transferred to Hogwarts from Beauxbatons. “Just give her a chance George. You never know, she could be genuine in her love or whatever she feels for him and not be as bad as you think!”

On top of what George, and almost everyone else at Hogwarts, was already putting up with this school year (aka Professor Umbridge terrorizing the school and you know whos return creating chaos amongst the wizarding world) George didn’t want to add having to be civil with a snake to his list of things to deal with.

“Yeah...guess not but still! She has not approached any of us, his siblings, to get to know us and they have been cozied up since she got here last semester! In my book, that's already a bad sign.” he frowns looking at the couple again.

Meanwhile down the table, the two lovesick teenagers are conversing amongst themselves, oblivious to the pointed looks from her boyfriend's twin.

“So I have Ron, George, and Ginny’s gifts all wrapped up and ready to be handed out...and I was thinking, maybe I could come up to the common room later after lessons and give them out? What better time than to finally let me meet them and get to know them than Christmas!” she asks, voice dripping with excitement and hope.

A grin graced his lips as he admired her excitement. “That sounds like an excellent idea, love, but with Umbridge, I don’t think it’s safe to be going into others common rooms.”

“I really would love to officially meet them, Freddie. We’ve been dating for three months and you haven’t introduced me to any of them. They’re your siblings, part of what makes you,you! Especially George. I mean come on- he’s your twin! Your other half! And when has Umbridge terrorizing the school ever stopped you from breaking the rules? I can come up and watch them open presents, maybe stay the night so I don’t get caught sneaking back to the dungeons….we can spend some time in the common room after everyone’s gone to bed?” you giggle playfully.

“You had me at ‘stay the night’!”

Another giggle slips past your lips as you peck his lips before rising from the bench. “I thought you would like that idea. I am off to see Professor Snape before my potions lesson starts, I will see you later in Transfig, yeah?”

Fred nods quickly, leaning up to peck your lips once more before you turn and strut out of the Great Hall. He watches you go with that same dopey smile on his face and his eyes swirling with pure adoration. He was in love.

After a hefty handful of morning classes, a quick lunch with friends, Transfiguration with Fred (whom of which you got to spend no time with due McGonagall partnering you with other people) and one intense charms lesson, it was finally time for your favorite part of the day; your free period. You weren’t sure how you got so lucky to have a free period at the end of the day but you definitely weren’t going to complain.

Normally you would spend the free period in the Slytherin common room, on the Quidditch pitch practicing, or in the Room of Requirement (which had quickly become yours and Fred’s spot when he decided to skip afternoon lessons), but today you decided to change things up and direct yourself to the library. You had spent your fair share of time amongst many stacks of the old, dusty books for studying purposes and to grab different for-fun reading material but hardly ever did you come in here to spend your free time.

Upon entering, you quickly set your course for the small ‘Muggle Fiction’ section that had been added in recent years, in search of a new adventure to lose yourself in. Your study partner, Hermione was the one to actually introduce you to the section and recommend a few novels to try reading and you turned out loving them all. Despite being a pureblood and having the nasty ‘I hate everything Muggle’ stereotype follow you around everywhere like a shadow, your heart couldn’t help but get excited about Muggle literature, your favorite genre so far being Romance.

Once you have made your pick of entertainment, you gravitate your way to a back corner nook of the library to get comfy-that is until you see the back of a familiar mop of fiery red hair fluttering between shelves before plopping down at a table with his books.

Having not been able to contain the excitement of seeing your man (even though he should be in potions), you quickly divert your course to him, staying quiet with a beaming grin on your face. Once close enough behind him, you reach out, playfully covering his eyes with your hands blocking his vision from the herbology book he had been scanning through.

"Guess who, Freddie." You giggle.

"What the bloody hell? Get off of me!"

Your eyes went wide in horror upon hearing the voice of the man who was definitely not your boyfriend!

"Oh, Salazar, I'm so sorry! I thought you were Fred from the back!"

George stood up from his seat, turning to you with a piercing glare, "You should really make sure you know who you are approaching before you touch them!"

He hadn't completely yelled at you but the angry tone and rise in his voice made you want to nearly cry.

You cast your eyes to the side, the amount of complete embarrassment you felt had your face feeling as though it was on fire. "I..I know, and again I'm really sorry about that. I- I'm uhm...I'm (Y/N), by the way...Fred's girlfriend." You look back to him, introducing yourself properly for the first time.

"It's a pleasure to meet you George."

"I can't say the same for you, snake."

You recoil at the name, "What did you just-"

"You heard me, a snake. That's what you are, clearly. Whatever love spell you have my twin under, you need to end it, and end it now."

You couldn't believe what you were hearing. "What are you talking about? There is no spell. I wouldn't do that to Fred, or anyone for that matter! How can you stand there and accuse me of something like that when you don't even know me?"

“Don’t think I know you, do you? You're a stuck up, entitled, conniving witch whose family only cares about things as ridiculous as blood purity and money. Everyone knows what kind of people you are. You and Fred have been dating for months and you haven't approached any of his siblings to get to know them. And what’s more is that over the summer you didn't even want to come to the Burrow to spend time with his family; it was always him leaving to meet you. What does that say about what kind of person you are?"

"You don't know a thing. That was not because of me! That was always Fred's choice, I wanted to-"

"No, don't try to seem all innocent now. You don’t want anything to do with us and we certainly don't like you. Now, if you'd excuse me, I best be leaving."

Before you could get another word out, George turned and collected the books he had grabbed, walking away to the front of the library and out its doors.

After your encounter with George in the library this afternoon, your day had only gotten worse.

You had attempted to break up a fight between two of your younger Slytherin female students but you had ended up getting elbowed in the face, leaving you with a small black eye. Yet before you had the chance to visit the Hospital wing, you were summoned to Umbridge's office.

What had been intended as a “friendly chat” -the pink toads words, not yours-, upon seeing your forming black eye when you stepped into her office, you were dished up a detention for “unacceptable display of muggle dueling from a prefect”. You tried to explain the situation and what had happened but it only seemed to aggravate the woman more. She implemented your detention immediately- the punishment being having to write lines. Instead of writing lines for the said cause of your detention, you were made to write lines for "associating with a blood traitor below your class grade". The way she talked about Fred made your blood boil with rage but you didn’t want to make your situation any worse than it was so you kept the angry words and insults for the woman to yourself.

And finally to top off your terrible day, you had received a letter from your parents stating that they would be spending the Christmas holiday in a tropical paradise while you were to stay at Hogwarts, alone. The day was turning out to be too much to handle and all you wanted was Fred. But with him nowhere to be found, you took to locking yourself in an abandoned classroom in the dungeons, crying out your frustrations. With your eye swelling, your hand stinging like crazy, and your chest aching knowing that Fred's family already hated you without meeting you, you felt completely miserable.

After what had seemed like hours, you finally managed to get your hysterical sobs under control to only getting small hiccups ever so often. Your eyes stung from the hours of repetitive rubbing away of tears and you could only imagine what you looked like. Breaking from your ball-like position in the corner of the room, you rise from the chilled ground, stretching your aching limbs as you take a glance at the small watch on your wrist. You see that dinner had started almost half an hour ago. With a sigh, you emerge from the dungeon’s classroom making your way up to the Great Hall.

When you enter through the hall's double doors, you immediately scan the Gryffindor’s table for the man you have come to love. You spot him quickly as he's waving his arms around wildly with a wide grin on his lips, seeming to be telling a crazy story to the surrounding group of his friends made up of George, Ron, Harry Potter, your study partner Hermione, and Lee Jordan. You can't help the way your eyes fill with nothing but pure love seeing him in his element; entertaining people and making them laugh and smile. Your eyes cut to his twin sitting beside him and your face falls.

In that moment, his harsh words from earlier this afternoon ran through your head on repeat like a broken record you couldn't stop. You never wished for anything more than to meet Fred's family and have them approve of you and your relationship but with the way things were going, that would never be anything but a wish.

You b-line for the Slytherin house table, taking a seat next to your best friend. As you start to shovel food onto your empty plate, his eyes fill with concern.

"Blimey, (Y/L/N)! What in Salazar’s name happened to you."

You pause and give him a quick pierced glance before resuming to fill up the plate of food. "Do not start with me Zabini. I've had a rough day."

"I can tell by that black eye of yours. Did Weasley do something he shouldn't have to make you cry? Because you know I will-"

You crack a sad grin at his over protectiveness but let out a sigh, "N-no, he didn't do anything...he's great. It's just...I don't know.." you trailed off. You didn't want to out George and have him face Blaise's wrath, but how could you keep the day's events away from your best friend?

Blaise noticed your hesitation and rested a comforting hand on your shoulder, "hey, if you don't want to talk about it right now, you don't have to but I'll be here for when you're ready and have the right words."

You give him the best side hug you can manage as your eyes begin to prickle with a few tears. "I know and thank you Blaise. I don't know what I'd do without you."

He returns the hug with a smile, "probably be miserable, I suppose. But I meant what I said. Just because I support you and Weasley's little love fest doesn't mean I won't hex him into next year if he hurts you."

You shove his shoulder playfully before returning back to plate to enjoy your meal.

As always, dinner was delicious and you stuffed your stomach full with too much dessert. You rise from the bench along with your fellow Slytherin's and begin to trickle out of the great hall. As you are walking between Theo and Blaise, a hand reaches out and grabs your arm from behind, spinning you around. You're met with a pair of familiar soft and warm lips being placed on your own. Before you can respond to the kiss, your boyfriend pulls away with a smirk leaving you with a small pout.

“Don’t go pouting, love. You will get more kisses soon, are you ready to go? Hell- what happened to your eye?!” he cups his hands around your face, inspecting your eye closely.

“It's nothing, don't worry. Where are we going?”

“You don’t remember? You were going to stay the night after you handed out gifts to Ginny, Ron, and George. Which by the way, I've got to tell you, I’m a little peeved off I’m not getting my gift yet and I’m your loving, devoted boyfriend who adores you and who worries about you.”

You rub your neck nervously, looking away from him. “I’m sorry, it’s just been a long day and I forgot..”

His eyes scan your face, his frown only growing deeper “I thought you were excited, love. I didn’t think you would forget something like this. What’s wrong?”

You couldn’t help it. Hearing Fred ask ‘what’s wrong’ after the day you’ve had, unleashed a new wave of fresh tears.

“Woah, woah, love what happened? Why are you crying, did I say something wrong?” he quickly encases you in his warm embrace, pressing your head gently to his chest to muffle your sobs. Your body shakes horribly as you try to keep yourself from crumbling right then and there in the hall in the presence of other students.

He looks ahead to see Theo and Blaise have stopped in their places, noticing your absence and are now looking at him holding your distraught figure. He sends a pleading look to Blaise, desperate for him to give a clue as to what was wrong but Blaise only shook his head and frowned in response. He knew Zabini was your best friend and that you told each other everything so when even he didn’t know what was wrong, Fred began to worry even more.

As Fred held you to his chest, he gently brushed back your hair with his fingers a couple of times hoping it would calm you. Bending down slightly so as to not scare you, he whispers into your ear, “C’mon, love. Let’s go up to my room and we can cuddle until you’re ready to talk. How does that sound?”

You nod your head slowly, breathing deeply as you can as you step away from him. His heart shattered seeing your eyes so puffy and bloodshot. Gently wrapping an arm around your waist, he guides you up the moving staircases to the portrait sealing the Gryffindor common room. Fred mutters the password and once there is enough space for you both to walk through, he softly pulls you along, hoping that the room will be empty or at least empty enough so you will be comfortable walking through. To his relief, the only people who have opted to stay out in the common room were George, Lee, Ginny, and the Golden Trio. George is the first to notice his twin's sudden presence.

“There you are Freddie, been wondering where you went off to. Hopefully not to see that-”

“Shut up, George. Do you and Lee mind staying down here for a while? We would like to be alone for a bit.”

Ron pipes up from his spot on the carpet by the roaring fireplace. “We?!”

Just then, George and Ginny’s head snap to Fred, only now noticing you curled into his side, face pressed into his shoulder.

“WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?! She-”

“Not now George! You’re my twin and best friend and I love you but please don’t start right now, mate. Just give us some time, please.” Fred begged.

George backed away with a scowl before nodding. Fred glances at Lee who gives him an encouraging nod with a soft smile. With a sigh of gratitude, he thanks his roommates, guiding you to the stairs. With a flick of his wand, he says the counter charm to keep the stairs from changing and walks you up.

Once you're in the safe space of his room, he sits you on his bed as he couches down by the end of it rummaging through his trunk. Once he finds what he's looking for, he stands facing you handing you a small stack of clothes.

"Here, sweetheart. These will be more comfortable for you than your uniform. And look, I even picked out your favorite sweater of mine."

You let out a weak smile, leaning up to plant a loving kiss on his lips. He returns the kiss, cradling your face carefully between his hands. Fred is the one to break the kiss, placing his forehead softly against yours.

"Let's get changed, love."

With a final nod, you pull away and stand, moving to the opposite of the room to change giving Fred his own space. Once you're both changed, you walk back to his bed with your uniform gently folded in your hands. Fred takes the stack from you before gesturing you to get in bed. You happily oblige and wait for him to get I'm with you. Once he settles in, you get comfortable in your favorite cuddling position. You being the little spoon with Fred cradling your body to his front.

No words are spoken for the first half hour. Fred doesn't rush you to talk, only softly brushing his hands up and down your arms in slow comforting strokes. Once you feel comfortable and ready to talk, you turn over to face the loving man behind you. You wrap an arm around his waist pulling your body flush against his, burrowing your head into his chest.

Fred let out a gentle chuckle, squeezing our waist a little tighter. “Are you ready to talk now, love?”

“I ha...frrible ay…”

Fred let out a deafening howl of laughter. “I have no clue what you just said, do you mind repeating that more clearly for me, sweetheart?”

You pulled away from his chest, “I said that I had a terrible day.”

His joyful expression was quickly replaced by one of alarm. “Why what happened?”

‘Here goes nothing…’ You thought.

With a deep breath you begin. “It wasn’t so bad at first. Double potions went okay, lunch with Blaise and Theo was good. Transfig sorta fell short because McGonagall split us up but that was okay too, nothing to ruin the day. It all started in my free period.” you stopped, beginning to feel nervous and nauseous . “W..we always say that honesty is the best policy...right?”

He confirms your question with a small dip of his head. “Of course”

You continue on, “I went to the library today to find a new Muggle romance book to read and well...before I could pick one that I liked, I thought I saw you weaving in and out between the bookshelves. I got excited seeing who I thought was you and so I ran up behind him and put my hands over his eyes like how I do with you and well…”

Fred knew where this was going and he instantly began to feel awful.

“It was George, as you could have guessed and needless to say he did not appreciate that. Of course I apologized, but he was still so angry and not just about me touching him. He seemed to be mad at me, as a whole person. He accused me of having you under a love spell and said that he knew what kind of person I was because of my family. Told me I was entitled and stuck up because I haven’t approached him or Ron or Ginny to get to know them nor did I visit the Burrow to spend time with your family this summer. I tried to tell him that me not coming to your home or meeting your family wasn’t my choice but he didn’t want to hear it.” you sobbed, letting the building tears in your eyes fall freely.

If Fred didn’t feel terrible before, he sure as hell did now! He knew that it was long overdue for you to meet his family but just when he got the nerve to introduce you, he couldn’t. While Fred was a very confident man in many aspects, your lifestyles were complete polar opposites and it oftentimes left him feeling inadequate. While you live a life of luxury, Fred and his family oftentimes struggle to make ends meet. While Fred’s family is thought of as a full lot of blood-traitors, your family name is highly admired and respected amongst the Wizarding community. Now, the Weasley boy knew such trivial things didn’t matter to his girl, but the worry he had of you leaving him once you dived in deeper to what made Fred, Fred was just too much to take the risk.

Fred couldn’t even begin to be mad at George for what he said to you because he was too busy being angry at himself. He was the reason this happened. He was the one who kept you from meeting his family. He was the one who would reject your wishes to spend time at the place he’s called home all of his life and with the people he loved more than anything. He made you look like you didn’t want anything to do with his family when in reality, you wanted nothing more than for his family to adore you almost as much as Fred did.

“Baby I am so so sorry about all of this. George had no right to say that to you but he wouldn’t have if I had just gotten over my own insecurities. I promise I will make things right, love.” his solemn expression broke your heart and made you cry even harder.

Wiping your eyes hurriedly, you shake your head. “That’s not even the worst of it! I got this stupid black eye from trying to break up a petty fight between two younger girls from my house, and then when I wanted to go see Madam Pomfrey, I was summoned to Umbridge’s office. One look at my eye and she gave me a detention of writing lines with that horrid quill of hers and my hand hurts so bad! And then on top of everything, my mum sent me a letter this morning saying that she and dad will be going somewhere for Christmas while I stay at Hogwarts instead! It was just one thing after another and when I couldn’t even find you, I broke down. Ended up locking myself in a classroom to cry, it was awful. That’s why I was late to dinner.”

“That bloody woman used that damned quill of hers on you?! I swear, I will make that vile woman regret ever using that on you! Let me go see if Hermione has anything to help with the scarring.”

Before he could get out of bed, you wrapped your arms around him tighter, “No! Don't bother her about it, I just want to be with you right now. Don’t leave, just stay.”

It was hard for Fred to contain the anger he had raging through his body but he gave in to your request. He settled back into his position, pulling you in tighter by your waist. “I am so sorry all this happened to you today, sweetheart. I promise, the first thing tomorrow, I will make things right. I will owl mum and tell her you will be coming home with me for Christmas and then I will face my siblings and explain everything to them. Then once I’m done there, I will make that pink toad wish she never set foot into this school.”

By now the tears had stopped falling, leaving you to the occasional sniffle. “Can we just go to bed now? I’m tired.”

Fred snuggles down deeper into bed pulling his heavy crimson duvet up around you both, tucking you in. “Let’s sleep. Tomorrow will be better”

You wish Fred had been right. No sooner than you were both peacefully asleep, you had been rapidly alerted awake by Professor McGonagall busting into the dorm room. You and Fred had both sprung up to see her shaking George awake. When she made her way over to Fred’s bedside, she paused in shock seeing you there.

“Miss (Y/L/N), what in Godric’s name are you doing in Gryffindor tower? And in the boys dormitories no less!”

“I-I.. well.. You see, what had happened was-”

“Never mind that, we don’t have time. I need you and mister Weasley to come with me immediately.”

Once you were all out of bed and met with a disheveled Ginny, the four of you were guided back to the Headmaster’s office and upon entering, you all see Harry looking distraught.

Ginny was the first to speak out, “What’s going on Harry? Professor McGonagall said you saw dad hurt-”

Dumbledore answered the girl before Harry had the chance. “Your father has been injured doing some work for the Order of the Phoenix. I am sending you all to Sirius’s house by portkey instead of the Burrow, where you will meet your mother. But we must hurry before Umbridge is made aware you all are out of bed. Hurry now, all of you.”

Immediately you all gathered around the kettle you would be using to transport you and waited for the countdown from Dumbledore. On the count of three, you all placed your hands on the portkey and instantly you felt the pull behind your navel and a rush of wind before you were met with the ground of a...kitchen?

Before you could comprehend anything, into the kitchen came Sirius Black. You weren’t entirely sure what to make of seeing the man in the flesh but looking at him as he spoke to Harry and the Weasley children, there was no way he was this “mass murderer” you had read to believe. After a small riff between the twins and Sirius about staying put instead of rushing to St. Mungo’s, he offered everyone up a butterbeer (which you graciously accepted) to calm the nerves. When you all had received the small letter from Mrs. Weasley, Sirius suggested that everyone try to obtain some rest so one by one, each of you filtered off to catch some sleep once you were finished with your respective butterbeers. You and Fred go off together to find a couch big enough for the both of you, quickly settling into deep sleep.

In the days that followed upon your arrival, you had finally met Mrs. Weasley and although you were seeing her at a tough time, she was thrilled to meet you and have you around for Christmas. Things were a bit tense with Fred’s siblings given the state of things, but you didn’t want to make what they were going through worse so you gave them their space. With your free time you had got to know Sirius and seemed to get along well given the many similarities between the two of you. You had also learned about the Order of the Phoenix and found that his home was made the Order’s headquarters. And then on the day the Weasley family was heading to St. Mungo’s to visit Mr. Weasley, you met a few more of the Order members, including Mad-Eye and Tonks. After a few discussions with them about the Order and their careers as dark wizard catchers you just knew you wanted to follow their paths and become an Auror and join the Order after you finished your schooling.

It was finally the day Mr. Weasley would be getting released from St. Mungo’s and the whole lot of you Hogwarts students were busy tidying up around preparing for his arrival while Mrs. Weasley, Mad-Eye, and Tonks went out.

You were currently cleaning down the tabletops in the kitchen with Hermione when you heard George in the next room over beginning to speak out of the blue. “I just don’t get it. My father has a near death experience and he has to come home to around another slimy snake...unbelievable.” he scoffs.

You halt in your movement as you look up to the door separating the two rooms. The whole time you had been here, you hadn’t possibly done anything to set the boy off.

You hear your boyfriend speak up, anger laced within his tone. “George mate, stop. What the hell! She hasn’t done anything to make you be so cross with her. What the hell gives?”

You drop the towel in your hand onto the dark table, rushing over to the swinging door that separated the rooms. You push it open to see the two redheads glowering at one another in rage as Ginny, Ron, and Harry stop in the midst of their own cleaning to watch the building argument.

“What gives?” he shouts. “What gives is that she shouldn't be here! She doesn’t belong here with the Order nor is she family! It’s not like she likes us anyways! Besides, she’s a Slytherin for Merlin’s sake! Who knows what she’ll go and tell Umbridge when we get back to school. Better yet, who knows what she will go say to those death eater parents of hers to get all of our asses all killed. ”

“That’s enough! Your bang out of line! You don’t know a thing about her but yet you decide to hate her?! That’s my girlfriend, George!”

“None of us know her because she doesn’t want us to know her! We’re your family Fred and she’s kept herself from that. She-”

“ENOUGH!” Fred bursts in anger, making you flinch. You had never heard Fred so...so livid before. “That. Is. Enough.” his tone rough and grave. He looked around the room, looking into the eyes of each of his siblings as he spoke, “You three loathe her because you believe she thinks of us as beneath her. She’s not like that! You all don’t know her because I didn’t want you to know her. I wanted to keep my family and my relationship separate and I see now that that was a horrible mistake and I’m sorry! She truly has always wanted to meet and spend time with you guys but I have been the one to say no every time, even when she begged and pleaded!”

“Ginny.” His little sister's body straightened upon the hearing of her name, “you would actually really like her. The way you feel and talk about Quidditch, she’s the exact same way. You’re as much of a headstrong firecracker as she is too. You would get along so well..”

“Ron…” he paused looking at his youngest brother, “I have never seen someone more strategic with Wizard’s Chess and obsessed with the Chudley Cannons than (Y/N). You both could talk for hours about that team and never get tired, you would think she’s great, too.”

Fred looks back to his twin, his eyes softening. “And Georgie...you’re my twin. You have no idea how hard she fought to meet you. After mum and dad, she’s wanted to get to know you the most because she knows just how much you mean to me. You aren’t just my twin, you’re my best mate. Not only does she support me, and you too, she supports our dream of opening the joke shop; something we’ve wanted since we were kids! You would love her maybe just as much as I do. She’s actually brilliant, I’m telling you. She’s smart, funny, inventive, ambitious, and just as much of a kid-at-heart as we are..” he grinned a bit with a few tears pricking his eyes.

The tension encased in the quaint room was undeniably thick. With teary eyes, you take a glance at his siblings and see their faces are all beginning to mirror the same emotions. Embarrassment, guilt, and shame. You couldn’t lie, seeing them at least a bit remorseful for the way they treated you and made you feel, made you feel a tad bit better.

As he takes a few paces across the room to stand next to you, he looks around at his siblings one last time, “If you want someone to be mad at, be mad at me. Not (Y/N). As my family, I’m begging you, give her a real chance. I love her and I can guarantee you all would love her too.”

You gently wrap your hand around Fred’s bicep, giving it a gentle squeeze with a watery smile. He looks down at you, tenderly kissing your forehead before grabbing your hand in his much larger one and leading you up the staircase to the room you were staying in. You peek back at his siblings as you ascend the steps, offering them a meek smile of their own. When Ginny had returned with the slightest smile in response, it gave you a new hope that things would be different from here on out.

Christmas was finally being celebrated at 12 Grimmauld Place and everyone was in high, happy spirits. In the past few days, Ron and Ginny took the initiative to get to know you, and you with them; and as Fred predicted, they enjoyed you and the company you offered. You connected very well with the both of them, and you couldn’t be happier. Mr. Weasley was ecstatic to finally meet you at last and welcomed you wholeheartedly. He ended up talking your ear off quite a bit about all things he knew about Muggles but you genuinely enjoyed his conversations and enthusiasm!

Currently, you were helping Mrs. Weasley in the kitchen, placing the last few finishing touches on the small feast the lot of you would be indulging in when Fred and George strolled into the room. Fred waltzed over to you wrapping a strong arm around your waist, spinning you around into his chest. You giggled happily as he placed a quick tender kiss on your lips before pulling away when his mom swatted his shoulder from behind him. Mrs. Weasley announced that the food was ready and for everyone to take their seats so you could get started. Before you all tucked in, she walked around the table handing out brightly colored paper wrapped packages to each of the children. You were beyond surprised when she gestured for you to grab the one she had been holding out in front of you.

“I got something, too? Mrs. Weasley, you shouldn’t have! Thank you so much!” You spoke as you tore open the wrappings. You see a beautifully homemade scarf and matching gloves in your house colors of silver and green. Your eyes crinkle in excitement as you wrap the fluffy scarf around your neck. You peer up at her again, “I love it, thank you!”

“You’re welcome, dear. I hear those dungeons are quite chilling, those ‘ought to keep you extra warm, I guarantee it.”

You thank her again and before you can begin to show Hermione your wonderful gift, another package is thrusted your way. You see only this time, it’s George holding it out to you.

“What is this?” you gently grab it from his hands, your eyebrow arching in wonder.

“This is technically something from the entire family but I had been the one to ask mum to make it. I owe you, and Fred too, a huge apology. I was a right foul git to you and should have never said those awful things to or about you, and for that I’m very sorry. I know it doesn’t completely change the fact that it happened but I hope you both can forgive me. I have never seen anyone a better match for my twin and I’m happy he has you in his life. Go ahead and open it.“

Your beam at him as you unwrap your second gift, your eyes immediately filling with happy tears when you look down to see what it is. You take the dark green plush sweater out of the paper and hold it up, your eyes roaming over your first initial that had been stitched in white, in elation. “My very own Weasley sweater?!”

George cracked a sincere smile as you hurriedly pulled the sweater over your head to try it on. “Welcome to the family, (Y/N).”

Taglist: @weasleytwinswheezes

#averyharrypotterchristmas #harry potter fanfiction #fred weasley #fred weasley x y/n #george weasley #harry potter #weasley family #order of the phoenix #fred weasley x reader

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musedblues · 4 years ago

Text

Call It Fate Call It Karma

summary: In which your band gets signed to the same label as Queen, and Brian May takes a whole bunch of fun out of your new musical journey.

a/n: Here’s what to know… There’s an age gap! This takes place sometime in the 1980s and reader is in her twenty’s. There are also mentions of sex / sexual situations. (Not 18+ just be aware!) Here’s what’s been dubbed as The Bitchy Bri Fic! Title from this song!

w/c: 10k

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Everything changed as you’d started to lose hope. And you owed it all to Jim Beach.

It was the afternoon you and your bandmates managed to sneak past the receptionist desk at EMI and present the reel of tape you called you an EP to a bored producer called Watts; Jim Beach was already occupying his office. By then, you’d been to every other record label in the city and were prepared to be kicked out of this one all the same.

But then the producer agreed to listen to your tape. Watts sat with his feet on his desk and a glazed over look in his eye as two of your only three songs played. Jim spoke up from the back of the room when your third and final song started to crackle to life.

“Well, aren’t you going to give them a shot?” He asked, in a warm, gentle tone.

“What are you three called?” Watts asked.

“Loba.” Wilda piped up, picking her nails in place of her guitar.

“It means ‘she wolf’ in Spanish.” Joane pointed out, twisting strands of her pale fringe as she perched on the edge of the bench at your side.

“Can you lot throw together the couple hundred bucks it takes to record, by the end of next week?” The producer asked.

“Yes.” You spoke up, though you weren’t sure how you’d get the money, this was the opportunity of a lifetime.

“Beach! Manage these lady wolves, will you?” Watts dragged his feet back to the floor with a thud.

“Me? I-I well,”

“You’ve got Queen, and who else? No one.” Watts exasperated. “McCartney has half our staff on lockdown this month and Iron Maiden has already gotten our three best workers to quit. You liked this mediocre garage rock well enough to say something…” The producer gathered your tape and tossed it to the manager with kind eyes and a smile under his furrowed brow. “Now everyone leave my office.”

You’d barely processed the life changing news as Jim turned toward you and your band with a grin that just kept growing.

“What do ya say, girls? Wanna make a record?”

///

You worked overtime and Joane got a second odd job to come up with the money to make a real-life record. And in a matter of a couple of months, you had an all new stage show, a new shiny Fender bass, and your very own album.

Well, almost. The record was in the final processes of being pressed. Watts helped put it together with his feet propped on the soundboard he manned. Past his usual cigar, he mumbled suggestions and even some encouragement; as you Wilda and Joane perfected the songs from your EP and threw together a couple more. Joane was praised for tightening her drum kit and bringing back up sticks. Wilda’s method of retuning her prized guitar worked without a hitch. You sang all your worries away with your bass playing in time. It was as easy as ever to work together, and one thousand times more terrifying all the same.

Jim lingered by on days like those, and on nights you’d booked gigs at local pubs and places of the like. On tea breaks, and in storage closets turned green rooms, Jim helped you and the girls make plans for the future. He carried around a pad of paper to jot down every time one of you thought up a new goal or two.

You went on and on about the sounds you heard in your head, and how you dreamed of bringing them to life. Of the words you longed to share with the world, and your favourite old tunes that never failed to inspire and excite.

Wilda dreamed of parties and people and places, the things she’d say on guest appearances and press tours. She dreamed of stages much more grandiose than the rickety old ones you were so familiar with now.

“We’d quite like to be as big as that other band of yours, one day.” Joane quipped, to a smiley Jim Beach. She was always going on about Queen. Bet she never dreamed of being graced with the assistance of her favourite band’s very own manager.

“No worries there.” Jim chuckled. “You ladies are a well-oiled machine compared to those four old bats. You’ll see for yourself tomorrow at the party.” He seemed to raise a brow like an omen but you couldn’t help but grin from ear to ear.

///

Your first ever album had been slowly climbing the charts since it’s release at the start of the week. When your single aired for the first time, Joane parked her old beaten down truck outside of your flat and turned her car’s radio up all the way. You dismissed your neighbour’s pleas for peace and quiet by hopping in your drummers ride and speeding away to EMI, squealing along to your very own song the whole way there.

You met your guitarist outside of the company’s biggest office. Inside, the three of you hurried through a few pages of papers, and scribbled your signatures along odd dotted lines. Just like that, you were signed.

Even though Loba was gifted a bottle of champagne and a couple of snapshots to prove it, the label decided a proper party was in order to welcome you. Apparently, EMI liked to use every excuse they could to make use of their loft and it’s impressive bar top that wrapped around nearly every wall.

So no sooner than you’d shuffled into the head office, you were escorted out and up to the very top floor. The party, Jim said, was already in full swing.

And that’s when you met his other band. Though he never said so outright, you could tell Jim was most excited to introduce you to the only other group he’d had the pleasure of working with till now. Behind poorly placed streamers and the backs of people too busy carrying on conversations to notice you, there was Queen. All lazily huddled together against a spot at the long and winding bar.

When Jim made his presences known, you and the girls stopped in your tracks and traded a few nervous glances.

Freddie Mercury was all of a sudden shifting his weight before the lot of you, casting a sweeping gaze across each of your faces.

“Miami, are these the children you’ve adopted now that we’re all grown up?” Freddie asked, greeting the manager and turning his oxen eyes to your band. His champagne sloshed in the glass he held near his chest as he threw one arm around Jim’s shoulders.

“Awe, you talk about us?” You jabbed an elbow toward the manager though you couldn’t quite reach where he stood. As his grin only grew, the rest of the band shifted closer.

“Boys, meet the girls.” Jim smiled, introducing you each by name.

But you couldn’t be sure if Roger even heard the manager’s introduction. The blonde floated up to your guitarist like he’d been supernaturally dragged across the room to meet her. Wilda stood before him, trying desperately not to pick at her nails, and smiled. You wanted to laugh, but you wanted to hurl. It was just too much, the way Roger seemed to drool at the simple sight of her, like Pepe Le Pew.

“What are you lovely ladies called, again?” He asked in a voice just as rasped as you’d come to recognize over the radio. Wilda blanched and seemed to go shy all of a sudden, but you weren’t.

“Loba.” You shrugged speaking in the drummer’s direction.

“What?” John asked, stepping closer to the other side of you, standing taller than you expected him to be.

“It means she-wolf.” Joane piped up, reciting her favourite and well-practised line. It always saved her from going too quiet, that fact.

“Uh-huh.” Roger seemed to agree, shifting to stand at Wilda’s side instead of ogling her head on- holding her gaze all the same.

“Better than their almost name. Guess what it was, lads.” Jim raised a brow to Freddie. Oh no. With Joane likely having shut down at the mention of her old idea, and Wilda entirely preoccupied with whispering to Roger, everyone turned to glance at you- Left with no choice but to bury your embarrassment and answer.

“Doin’ Alright.” You admitted through a smile, because if you didn’t laugh, who would? It was your drummer, resident Queen fanatic’s idea, one you talked her out of shortly after joining.

“How bloody un-o-fucking-riginal,” Brain huffed and crossed his long arms over his chest.

You had barely officially met the guy. He loomed near the back of the gathering and stood in silence, till then. And you might have thought he’d only been joking if it wasn’t for the way his stoic expression remained unchanged when your eyes met his for the first ever time.

“Hate to break it to ya, but your name was already sort of taken, too.” You pointed out, giving a weak mocking curtsy at the vague mention of her majesty. Queen’s guitarist’s glare remained.

“Oh, I like this one. Good ear, Miami.” Freddie sauntered over and nudged you away from Brian’s burning gaze. Roger was pointing Wilda out to the balcony, where a rowdy group grew larger every time you glanced out beyond the open glass doors.

“Don’t mind him.” John cocked his head toward the sulking guitarist, and handed you a bubbly drink. “He’s in the middle of a divorce and a midlife crisis, it’s really quite the combination.”

“Poor thing.” You stuck your lip out on your turn in Brian’s direction, as Freddie yanked you toward the balcony, laughing all the while. The wild-haired guitarist watched you leave with an expression you couldn’t quite understand, though you wanted too.

But before the lot of you could spin your separate ways and dance until sunrise, one of the men from the head office stopped in front of everyone with a smile.

“Nice to see you’re all already so well acquainted.” He said, in a sickeningly posh tone. Roger draped an arm across Wilda’s slim shoulders as the rest of you hummed in agreeance.

“So how would you like to tour together, then?” The man grinned. Freddie flourished, making a grand gesture and saying something about how that was the best idea he’d ever heard in his life. Joane turned to you, not even attempting to hide her squeal of excitement. Jim shared a look with John, like a proud father.

“Good. Because that’s what the label wants.” The man nodded and turned to Jim with instructions to phone him to start planning. Freddie swept you away to kick off a night of fun, and when you turned to see if Brian cared at all, he was gone.

///

Your single topped the charts in the US. Jim came into your work, feigned an emergency and gathered the rest of your band to share the good news over a celebratory brunch. You might have won over the yanks, but Queen had stolen the hearts of billions long before you’d written your first tune. So it was naturally decided your band would open for the much more renowned group.

You turned your two weeks notice into your job, and blew your last paycheck on an all-new wardrobe. If you were going to prance around America with the likes of Queen, you had to look the part. Some platforms and a few dazzling dresses found their way into your suitcase a week before it was time to go.

By the time you met up with the other band at the airport, you knew Roger well enough to stick out your tongue as a greeting. He’d come around your flat once, trailing behind Wilda to crash a night out you’d been planning all week. And again to steal her away from your last band meeting. When you, Joane and Wilda sleepily trudged through the waiting gates, he stole your guitarist away for the third time, and you wondered what might become of them.

You were still dazzled by Freddie, charmed by his laugh and stunned when he insisted on sitting next to you on the plane ride over, to share gossip. All of his friends seemed just as taken with the ethereal singer, too. John sprung up from his catnap to go help Freddie find the best snacks the airport had to offer. And while Jim sat going over the schedule with Joane, Brian sat across from you with his arms crossed and his legs a mile apart.

“Are you excited?” You wondered because you really wanted to know if someone who’d done this a time or two was still thrilled by it. But mostly, you wanted to get the lanky guitarist to open up a little. If you were going to spend a whole month and a half near each other, wouldn’t it be nice to get to know the guy a little?

“I’m tired.” Brian nodded, his hazel eyes fluttering toward the windows.

“Lighten up Mr. May. You could have my job. Was just sent to phone Fred’s cats and we haven’t even left home.” A man as gangly as Brian shuffled to sit at your side, adjusting the sunglasses on his head that did little to hide his thinning hair.

“I’m Crystal, that’s Ratty.” The guy pointed across the lounge to another slim, long-haired fellow bent over an open acoustic guitar case.

“We’re everyone’s personal lackeys and will be glad to lend you ladies a hand all the same.”

You thanked the guy with a chuckle and felt charmed enough by his sudden kindness to admit your growing nerves. But then Freddie and John were back, and the plane was ready, and it was time to go on tour.

///

The first week flew by in a flash. You were jarred by the size of every new arena and crowd that filled the seats. You lost yourself entirely to the music that blared from the speakers at your band’s command; but never got used to hearing the songs you once plucked away at in your bedroom, fill stadiums.

Going from entertaining grotty pubs to seas full of people wasn’t something you ever expected to happen. The sound of their collective cheers directed to your band didn’t seem real. All you could do was play on, and sing with your friends until the time came to rush to another green room, catch your breath, and a glimpse of the headlining act.

You usually only saw Queen in passing- in revolving hotel doors or shuffling about the same backstage halls. If you weren’t on stage, your band was hauled off to radio stations for interviews while Queen partied on. And if your band had an afternoon to do as you pleased, Queen was off signing records and privately touring art museums.

But there were the rare occasions your paths crossed for longer than a minute or two. John would always make a point to ask after you, from time to time. He said you and the girls seemed to be handling the road like old champs.

“I’m too busy to be bothered with stage fright.” You laughed, when John asked how you looked so at home in front of the crowds that had started to sing along to the songs you played.

Where most of Queen felt like friends your parents warned against staying out past curfew with, John felt like your older brother; who waited up to sneak you back home with a kind word.

Freddie always invited you to the after parties and nights out, even when he knew Loba was meant to do a photoshoot one city away. And when you failed to show up, the singer would always say he’d missed you. And you believed him, because of the nights he’d sneak in your hotel room to share the last of the liquor that had knocked the rest of his bandmates cold. Freddie went out of his way to include you and the girls more often than not.

But Roger seemed to include himself in your groups circle any chance he could get. He trailed behind Wilda, sure, but he seemed genuinely fond of chatting away with you and Joane all the same. And when your guitarist and Queen’s drummer partook in their weekly game of playing hard to get, you were awarded tiny moments with just Roger.

Like the time everyone crashed before midnight, and the two of you stayed up by the quiet hotel poolside, with an acoustic. It wasn’t long before your goofing around turned into some kind of jam session, and you were writing a song together. Roger insisted you keep it to use, and left the cocktail napkin full of scribbled lyrics tucked between the strings of Wilda’s guitar that you’d been left in charge of.

Then, there was Brian.

He strolled ahead of you off of the riverboat where both of your groups had been invited to enjoy a day off, cruising around somewhere in America’s deep south. You couldn’t help but watch Brian’s figure move as it seemed to tower just over all the people at his side. It was time to head back to the hotel, or at least, time for your freshwater adventure to end. Everyone was glad for the easy-going ride, still tired from the night before.

Maybe that’s why he was so quiet all afternoon. Brian usually was, but there was something more to his silence today. And you didn’t know the guy well enough to figure, or dare ask why. The weather was nice, and Queen was received with reverence every place they went. Brian had no reason to sulk- none you could possibly understand.

A slew of people with cameras and questions flocked to the boat docks as the one and only Freddie led the way, pretending to introduce Crystal as some kind of rockstar in his own right. The roadie ate up the attention as Brian’s pace set your own. You couldn’t move until he did. And while he stalled, cameras flashed and a desperate middle-aged man held a skinny microphone toward the band.

“Brian, how are you finding America?” They asked in a mousy pitch.

“Oh, it’s lovely here, as always.” Brian politely grinned, curling his fists in his jacket pockets, from what you could see.

“How’s touring with another group? Queen usually don’t need the support of an opening act.”

“Right.” Brian seemed to agree in a curiously cynical tone.

“They’re called Loba, and we quite like having them around.” Roger was suddenly shaking your shoulders like an overzealous coach. You chuckled at his antics as Brian dared to glimpse at the commotion.

He turned his gaze over his shoulder to look at you for a moment. It might have been the most exciting part of your whole day, considering how Brian hardly ever looked your way till now. But why did it have to be like that? What did you ever do to the guy?

The best you’d ever gotten from Brian was an empty hum when asked if he cared if you sat in the only open seat at his side, during some dinner. And over that meal, he chattered away with the likes of his band, and even yours. And maybe it was because you became utterly paranoid by his silence to break it with all of the questions you had for the guy. But he never spoke to you. The seat at Brian side seemed a void in his peripheral. And you were growing a bit anxious by the thought of actually being invisible to Brian. So you started speaking up.

When Freddie asked you with help on matching one of his many jackets with a pair of trousers, you’d already made up your mind, but twisted around to ask what Brian thought. His brows upturned in a painfully confused expression as he hesitantly gave his answer to Freddie’s clothing debacle. You got your own answer too, that at least Brian heard a voice coming from the space you existed in.

When both tour buses stopped for gas one random midnight; Roger raced you into the convenience store and distracted you from buying anything in place of dancing to The Cars tune crackling from the overhead speakers. Your spontaneous party was broken up when Brian breezed by with his freshly purchased candy bar in hand.

“We are on a schedule you know?” He glared your way on his turn to leave.

“I’m sorry you weren’t invited to the dance party Bri.” You mused, stopping the guy in his tracks, who turned to look at you in the way he did. “We’ll let you sulk in the corner of our next one, since it would obviously kill you to actually join in the fun.”

But all that got you was a roll of Brian’s hazel eyes and a cackle from Roger. That was the norm. Brian either seemed to pretend you weren’t there, or traded you bone chilling glares like you’d wronged him in a past life. But you’d never known less of a person than you’d known of Brian May, and you were beginning to wonder if going about finding out more was worth it.

///

By the time your next soundcheck came, Queen had nothing better to do than bop about the stadium to wait their turn. You and the girls rushed through your usual set up but decided to change things around for your second to the last song. And while you started to unplug it was decided Joane would have to turn a certain drum fill into a solo while Wilda rushed off stage to retune her only electric guitar to properly close out the show.

Brian overheard, from the place he stood arguing over an amp with Ratty, who’d kindly agreed to stick close by your band during times like now. The roadie shuffled over to take your bass away, while Brian issued a complaint.

“You’re going to retune? Just use a bloody capo and don’t waste everyone’s time.” Brian shifted his weight, furrowing his brow your way. Though you weren’t the guitarist in question, you seemed to be the one and only person Brian felt most comfortable yapping at.

“There’s more than one way to do things, you know?” You pointed.

“Yeah,” Brian shrugged, agreeing with you in a breathtaking turn of events. But then again, not really… “The right way and the wrong way.”

“Christ no wonder you’re divorced.” You shook your head in the guy’s direction. His eyes might have been pretty if they weren’t burning into yours with such disdain. Then you both made a show of storming past each other. You were getting really sick of his attitude, and what it did to yours.

///

“Oh no. Oh no, no, no!” You cried, cradling your bass that had fallen from the stand to the concrete floor below. The neck was ever so slightly cracked and a tuning peg was bent and your heart was near stopping. When you looked up from the ground, you saw Ratty cursing out one of the stadiums impish young stagehands. The kid had blown an amp and sent it smoking, and your guitar flying off the stage in his rush to run from the trouble he’d stirred.

You clutched your one and only instrument to your chest and hurried away for help. Ratty was wrestling the broken amp, Crystal was nowhere to be seen, and John was off phoning home. You recalled the sights of the city from yesterday’s afternoon off. There was a guitar shop across from the Chinese place where you stopped for lunch.

So you raced past Joane and shouted that you’d be back in an hour. The exact amount of time you had until it was time to go on stage.

You ran down the city streets with your bass in your arms like a wounded child. The guitar shop appeared like a beacon.

Inside was blaring a song by Led Zeppelin you might have wanted to sing along too if your heart wasn’t in your throat. There was a mass of teenaged boys crowded the counter. You waited, held your breath and checked the clock as it ticked away at a frightening speed. By the time the boys buying strings and straps shuffled away, you threw your broken baby to the older man behind the counter. He assured you the fix would be a breeze and tried to sell you an overpriced Gibson while you waited. You stood drumming beats on the sales counter and tried not to scream when the clock showed you’d only had ten minutes left to waste. A couple more later, your bass was in your grasp. You threw an extra bit of cash to the guy and ran off in a flurry, praying to make it on time.

You’d never ran so fast, certainly. You didn’t even have time to apologize to a kid on a bike who had to swerve out of your way. You burst through the back doors of the stadium, much to the shock of the doorman. When he shouted at you to take it easy, you ceased running to walk as fast as you could toward the green room.

Brian was the first familiar face to greet you after the nerve-wracking scene.

“So nice of you to finally show up.” He let out a mocking cheer from the place he kicked back on a torn leather sofa. So relaxed in his gloom. Your heart used to ache at the thought of his troubles. At the sight of his far off gaze as his friends joked on around him. When Freddie would drunkenly whisper to you details of Brian’s trying year. But the guitarist’s sneers your way were getting old, and the ache in your heart for him was slowly growing cold.

Freddie spun to greet you, let out a sigh of relief like an anxious mother, reaching out to adjust your shirt collar skewed under the strap of your instrument.

“Well, my guitar had to get fixed one way or the other. And unlike you, your highness, we haven’t got a gaggle of roadies to call upon.” You swatted Freddie away and snapped toward Brian.

“No, but what’s ours is yours. Next time ask for help.” John spoke like a stern father, tossing you a bottle of water and pointing toward the clock on the wall. You had about a minute to run out on stage.

“Let her learn the hard way, Deacy. She seems to like it that way.” Brian rang. You dashed away before you had time to curse him.

“Brian, stop being such a bitch, I mean, my God.” Freddie whined as you stormed off, glad for once that someone else seemed fed up with the guitarist’s sharp tongue, too.

///

When the show was over, John insisted you hop along his band’s tour bus back to the hotel. The other two-thirds of your band were still enjoying the amenities of the afterparty, and you were in the middle of trading bass themed horror stories with Deacy. So he kept on talking as you walked to follow him, settling near the front of the ride as it travelled to your latest hotel.

As Queen shuffled to cross the bleak lot to get to the grandiose lodge, Brian was the last to leave. He shouldered past you with that same old sullen pout. His eyes caught yours for a moment before he took another step, but something about the usual interaction was the final straw for you.

“What the hell did I ever do to you?” You demanded to know, as Brian’s bandmates disappeared inside the hotel. Brian stalled reluctantly and turned to face you with pursed lips and the smallest shake of his head.

“Look,” He began, as you stood ready to get to the bottom of whatever this was. “I’ve really never meant to be so cross with you. And I’m sorry my temper’s been so easily getting the better of me. I am sorry.” Brian nodded. He looked exhausted, like this was the millionth time he’d had to give a similar speech, but he did so in such a genuine manner- that you could only stand and trade a perplexed gaze to the lanky guitarist.

“It’s… it’s best if we just keep to ourselves, yeah?” Brian concluded, turning away with one final nod. You didn’t get the chance to agree, or disagree, or understand what just happened before Brian was on his way, and you were on your own.

///

After the tour was said and done, a new year was just kicking off. And the label was pushing for another album right out the gate. You and the girls had two months to throw together a collection of new songs, and were struggling for most of the time to do just that.

The song Roger helped you write was the best one you had to offer, and Joane was nearly crippled under the stress of being creatively confined to a certain amount of time. You’d never had such a hard time working together before, and the pressure was building up between each of your bandmates in a way you were afraid of.

When Watts strolled in to take control of the soundboard you’d been fiddling with all morning, you couldn’t help but to warn him against changing any of your settings. You and the girls were finally making some kind of progress, albeit bickering along the way. Poor Jim could only sorrily sigh each time one of you turned and ask for his help. This bit of work was a little outside of the managers league.

And Watts only seemed to egg you on, pressing the few buttons you asked him not to.

“You want to control this soundboard so bad, have at it.” He stood in a huff, “I only strongly suggest you don’t fuck this up.” The producer hissed before slipping out of the door. He smiled a smile that made you queasy, and you nodded knowing full well you were on thin ice.

Jim left you and the girls to fight over tempos and key changes and came back from the studio’s kitchenette with an unexpected announcement.

“Brian is coming.” He said, matter of factly.

“What’d you call him for?” Joane groaned from the floor, where she laid fiddling with her kit.

“Because Queen is the best help I know. But Freddies in Barcelona, John’s with his family, Roger is MIA and Brian is right down the road. You lot have a day left, and I’m running out of helpful ideas. And quite frankly, you girls are in need of a lot of it.”

“Yeah, maybe, but now nothing will get done.” Joane countered. “Not with the way he and y/n square off like old alley cats.”

“He’ll be here in five. Come on lady wolves… Claws up, plugs in.” Jim pointed as he sat back down on the studio sofa, pinching the bridge of his nose.

Wilda shot into a speech, begging you over and over to keep it cool. The sooner you started, the better. She was right, and you wanted nothing more than to get this record finished. So with a nod, you accepted your fate.

Brian strolled in the studio right on time. His eyes looked desperate for sleep, and his already wild mane seemed even more unkempt. His small smile Jim’s way made you want to reach past the wall Brian put up, and shake his shoulders, and tell him it was okay to be actually happy once in a while.

Maybe it was the time that had passed since the tour. Maybe Brian forgot that he’d cared so little for you, and that’s why his faint grin lingered when his eyes met yours, past the glass of the recording booth. You willed your own weak smile his way, weary of this new civility, but just as tempted to take it in stride.

“Hello, ladies. Let’s see what you’re working with so far, shall we?” Brian leaned in and spoke just to you, it seemed. Maybe it was because you were closest, front and centre before the guy in a little glass box.

You’d felt more vulnerable than ever, under his forest coloured gaze. There was no place to run off and hide. You were right in Brian’s line of sight, right under his thumb, as he pressed a button stopped your band from playing to suggest a few dozen changes.

You knew he was here to help. And Jim looked so hopeful, tapping his foot to the beat in the corner of the room. So even though your throat was going dry as Brian settled his eyes on your bass- you played on. When he stopped you again, your blood began to boil.

“Please tell me you plan on adding a keyboard? A harmonica, something else?” Brian grimaced.

“We only play on the record what we can play on stage as a three-piece.” Joane raised a drumstick to make a point.

“Yeah well, it’s sure sounding that way.” The older and wiser musicians voice crackled through the speaker.

“Fuck you, that sounded good!” You hissed into the mic, wielding your bass like a weapon. That might'a been the best take you’d done all day.

“Yeah, but it didn’t sound great. If I turned my car radio on to that I’d fall asleep at the wheel. Joane, try using your snare on the bridge, instead of the cymbals. Y/n… from the top.” Brian sighed, sitting back in his chair like an exhausted parent.

You sighed too, adjusting your headphones and tossing Wilda a glare, a sign that you couldn’t keep your cool much longer.

You tried harder. But Brian kept stopping you. And every time he did, you couldn’t be stopped from cursing him just a little. If he’d only give you just one chance to find your rhythm, you might’ve made a whole record by now. When you told him as much, he let you play on for almost half a song before he’d stopped you again. When he did, you nearly exploded. But Joane snapped first. She got up from her kit, chucked her headphones, and stormed away. You slung your bass away to follow after her, but Wilda was quicker and raced out of the back to chase Joane down.

That left you with time enough to break out of the glass box and give Brian a few choice words.

“Way to fucking go, drill sergeant.” You gestured toward the guy who was slow to rise from his place before the soundboard.

“It’s not my fault she decided to-”

“Yeah, it is. Thanks for showing up and doing fuck all.”

“I came here to help you, and I could do if you’d stop acting like a damn child.” He pointed a finger your way, and the fire in his gaze sent a chill down your spine for the first time ever. You weren’t afraid of him. You were only stunned by the way he spoke to you. The way he always had. Why did Brian bother showing up here tonight?

“We might be able to take some of your suggestions if you stopped stopping us! Why don’t you just stick to pissing your own band off? You do it so well.”

You’d heard him trade sharper words with Queen. Roger told you that Brian was just working through some things. John said he’d always been like this. You just couldn’t understand why you got the worst of it.

“Well, it’s clear you’ve got more than enough hell to give your own group. You might sound less like the second place winners of your primary school’s talent show if you learned to stop making so many executive decisions.”

“I have a suggestion for you.” You decided, “Why don’t you take all your bleeding suggestions and fu-”

“Yeah, alright, let’s all take a break.” Jim intervened as you let out an exhausted sigh that doubled as a frustrated cry. The manager waved Brian over and the two men started to share a word as you stormed out of the back from fresh air and a clearer mind.

“He’s right you know. We sound like a washed-up wedding band.” Wilda shouted your way as she stayed leaning back against the hood of her car with a cigarette in hand.

“Where is Joane?” You asked, already knowing the answer. Wilda glanced at the empty parking spot where your drummer’s new mustang was earlier today. Great. Just what you needed.

“Right. Let’s forget everything, and finish. We’ll just… get it done.”

And so that’s what you did. Brian was gone when you ventured back in, and his absence left a familiar little ache in your heart. You didn’t like shouting at each other like cross siblings. You’d wanted to be his friend more than anything, at the start of all of this. The stars that might have aligned for that chance were all askew by now.

Jim left you and Wilda to go fetch some takeaway. Then he sat around the small table in the studio and shared dinner and some words of wisdom with the two of you. You thanked your manager for being so kind, and forgiving of your antics thus far. He chuckled and said something about having witnessed and dealt with much worse. Jim stayed a while longer, while you and Wilda worked together, and it was you who had to encourage the guy to go home and get some rest.

He entrusted the key to the place to you and your bandmate and left you to finish up for the evening. And you did, eventually. You and the eager guitarist listened back to the tapes and added in riffs and fills, and even a few of Brian’s suggestions; until well past midnight. But right on time for the label.

You could sleep soundly knowing you’d finished when you were meant to. But your dreams were full of worry that the record still wasn’t good enough.

///

“You did what?” Joane shrieked in the hall of your flat.

“We had to finish, Joane. You never came back, what else were supposed to do?” You yelled back, worry saturating your tone. It was far too early to be having this fight.

“You were supposed to wait for me!” Joane shouted, looking to you with big sad eyes. You rushed to remind her that you were out of time, and she could have shown back up and helped you finish, but she didn’t. And in her typical fashion, the drummer spun on her heels and stormed away, fringe flying far behind her shoulders as she shouted something about never coming back.

The girl had been known to fly off the handle on occasion. There was the time she drove your van away from a sketchy Welsh pub you travelled miles to play in, because Wilda called the drummers shoes ugly. Or the time she nearly chucked her cymbals from your third story flat window. You prayed that this episode was like the others you’d endured as you shut your door and rushed to get ready. It was time to take your record to the head office.

No one was particularly happy to find your three-piece only consisted of two when you showed up with Wilda to present your latest creation. Jim flashed a couple of smiles as the tracks played on, but all you noticed were Wilda’s shrugs. The record was done. But under unexpectedly trying circumstances and lacking a lot of help from your drummer. It wasn’t what you’d envisioned. The label still decided it was good enough, and sent you to fill a couple of talk show slots before the week was up.

You went with your guitarist to a couple of press junkets, and watched as your dazzling friend gave away answers she’d been practising since before you’d played your first gig. The only thing that made her umber eyes glow brighter was the sight of Roger Taylor waiting up after a certain interview. He invited her back to wherever it was he’d run off to, and Wilda had the decency to look toward you with a furrowed brow.

With a sigh, you agreed to handle the rest of the press on your own. Because she deserved to have the fun she’d been wishing for with the capricious drummer.

Four talk shows, three guest appearances, and one very hectic game show later, it was time for your record release. Roger phoned to assure he’d bring Wilda back in the nick of time. But Joane wasn’t answering her phone. You’d hoped after a bit of space that your drummer would come back around. But she wasn’t any place you’d gone to look. You spent until the witching hour driving to the places you knew she might have been and came up short.

When the time came to get ready for the party, half of your time getting ready was spent trying to hide the dark circles under your eyes. Before you left home, you took a couple of shots and prayed tonight wouldn’t crash and burn around you.

///

The mansion belonged to the head of the company, a place he’d invite people to when celebrations were too grandiose to fit in EMI’s loft. You wondered if you were the last to arrive when you opened the massive carved doors to find the stunning home littered with faces most of whom you didn’t recognize. One you did finally emerged from the crowd.

“Thank God you made it, I feared I’d have to put on a show instead.” Freddie chuckled, greeting you with glee. You ruffled the boa around his neck, thanked him for showing up, and wondered where you could find the drinks.

“I’ll take you round back dear, but you’d better hurry. The old important men are tired of waiting.” You could have explained how you’d waited up in hopes that Jonae would phone. And how when the phone did ring, it was Wilda worrying that she’d missed the only flight back home. But you only gave Freddie a sorry smile and spun into the garden. There was a bar in the veranda, where a handsome man made a show of mixing you a drink, making little passes along the way.

The time you thought you were stalling by answering all of the dude’s dumb questions was very soon interrupted. All of a sudden a towering guitarist was casting a shadow over you, and swiftly excusing the man behind the minibar.

“It’s about bloody time you showed up.” Brian rang in a mockingly sweet timbre. And as your stomach fluttered with nerves, you knew time was up. But how could you release a record without the rest of your band?

When you started to argue as much, Brian clamped his fingers around your arm like a vice and yanked you away from the bar and the drink you didn’t even get to try.

“Saving the day again, are you?” You rang dryly, as he towed you away. Brian’s face was set in its usual frown, one you’d become so familiar with that his smile on magazine covers made you look twice. He said nothing as he marched you out of the yard and into the mansion. You figured he’d part ways from you once you passed through the doors, but his grip didn’t loosen on the way down the empty marble hallway.

“Let me go.” You struggled, huffing out the words as you fought his grip and won. Before you had time to storm away, Brian spun to face you.

“Would you grow the fuck up? There is a room full of people depending on you and you’re acting like a fucking child, like always.”

“I’m not a child.” You hissed, curled your fists and glared up at Brian as he loomed over you. His shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest. His feet and fiery eye’s pointed to back you into the corner. But you wouldn’t let him get to you. “I’m trying my best it’s just not fucking good enough.”

A bit of a waver passed through your tone, as you targeted the words through your teeth. You watched Brian bend at the knee to look right in your eye, and pretended not to hold your breath.

“No, you aren’t.” Brian pointed a finger right at you and spoke in a low, unnerving rumble. “I’ve seen you at your best and I can guarantee you’re far from it, tonight.” He snarled, glaring you up and down with those dangerous hazel eyes. They raked over the span of your figure before landing on yours once more. “You look a bloody mess.”

“Because I’ve been running around till two in the damn morning, trying to find Joane! And when I couldn’t, I had to finish everything all on my own again. Because Roger took Wilda away and bought her nice pretty shoes and put her in good graces with all the higher-ups, and unlike her, I have to earn that shit myself.” You yelled, the dam holding back your bottled up emotion had crumbled in the overflow. You could feel the threat of tears stinging the backs of your eyes as Brian stood gaping at you in your outburst.

“So now I’ve lost my voice from all the interviews and the lack of sleep and I probably won’t be able to sing on tour to promote this shite album with a single you’ll switch off when it comes on the radio, anyway!”

And before you’d even stopped shouting, it seemed, Brian had his hands on either side of your face, and his lips pressed to yours. Your back was pushed to the wall and it took great effort not to melt down it with the way you were consumed by an all new kind of fire; mixed among the usual. But above it all, you were too shocked to kiss him back. Then you parted from each other, and past his unbuttoned top you watched the rise and fall of Brian’s chest while he caught his breath and stared at you.

“What the bloody hell was that?” You asked in a stunned hush. Brian blinked and shook his curls.

“I’m, I- I don’t- I didn’t mean-”

“You think you can just kiss me and, I don’t know, that everything is just magically going to be okay?” You wondered in a fluster, knowing there was nothing that could be done about the blush burning your cheeks. After months of frowning every time the two of you passed each other he kisses you?

“No. No I- I’ve always wanted to kiss you and I just thought I knew better than to do it.” Brian held up a hand like he was swearing not to come closer. Talk about some seriously mixed messages.

“What?” You asked in an embarrassingly high squeak.

“I wanted to kiss you before I even knew your name. And it just seemed like the entirely wrong thing to do. So I shut you out, and my ire kept getting the better of me, and that’s not an excuse, just the truth,” Brian sighed, at what seemed like a sudden loss for words as his eyes searched yours.

“Well, you’ve gone and done it now.” You pointed out with the faintest laugh despite everything. Brian shook his head, asking, in a way, to understand what you were on about.

So you shook your head too, and latched onto his loose collar. You yanked Brian closer because you weren’t angry. You were actually feeling fine all of a sudden about everything. Only sure that you had to kiss him again good and proper. It was your first kiss with him, really, as your mouths moved together. Brian’s fingers were wrapped around your arm again, less claw-like than moments ago. And he didn’t seem too keen to break away from pushing you a little closer to the wall, a second time around.

But just as you lost yourself to the feeling of Brian’s frame moulded against your own, your name was hollered from somewhere down the hall. Music grew louder over the speakers that reached out to the sparsely decorated hall. Brian let you go, and you released your latch on his shirt to wipe your lips in a hurry.

But before you could scurry away, you watched Brian watch you prepare to bolt, and couldn’t help the small smile blooming across your face. He smiled, too.

You looked a mess. You were a mess. And you might’ve been one step away from fucking this whole thing up. But for the first time all year, you accepted it.

///

Your second record, somehow, was praised by the label and adored by the steadily growing following you’d gained. The old burnt out hippie man who ran your home town record store stood from his torn leather stool and applauded you, the day you came in to buy the Talking Heads new record.

“You’re really finding your sound, man.” The old hippie grinned. You told him to sit back down and thanked him despite your embarrassment. He asked you to autograph the cash box and gave you a discount on the album you bought.

After your single reached the top five in the charts, you talked Joane back around. It wasn’t easy. You had to promise you’d keep a cooler head, and she did too. She started stopping over every Sunday with a book of songs for you to think up a tune to, and turned the radio up every time one of your hits came on air. You laughed when she danced around your coffee table like it was the first time she was hearing your band name on the lips of a local dj.

Wilda cut all her hair off and wore the shoes Roger bought her everywhere. She talked about him after every breath, but you knew she hadn’t talked to him in months. Queen were busy planning a tour of Europe and trying to save the families that hadn’t already slipped through the cracks at the homes they bought but hardly visited.

You knew because you called Freddie to ask after Brian.

“Why are you asking about Brian?” You could hear the smile in Freddie’s voice, after he’d finished gabbing about the others.

“I want to know how all you boys are, naturally.” You panicked, realizing how lame your excuse was as you spoke it into the receiver. Freddie only hummed after a beat, and let another silence linger before speaking up again.

“I know you both secretly care for each other. Just give him time love, he’ll come around.” Freddie chirped before giving you a sweet farewell and hanging up.

Throughout your ever-changing year, Freddie had been more than kind to you. He’d become your friend. He gave away secrets like a kid at a slumber party. And when Brian came up in his conversation, Freddie always got serious. When the singer told you about the rough year Brian had been through, and the state of his well being, Freddie seemed to look at you with all of the seriousness in the world. Like he was desperate for you to understand. Did he know you were desperate to understand? Did he know Brian kissed you?

You could have phoned Brian. But you were too busy secretly hoping he’d ring you.

///

Your only notable call came from Jim, who gently nudged you to agree to being Queen’s opening act, once again.

“It’s what the fans want, according to the label. It’s what the label wants.” Jim explained, in the soft, kind, way that protected the guy from ever receiving a glare or harsh word from you, or Brian, you realized.

“We’ll do it, if the royal court isn’t up in arms.”

“Freddie said, and I quote, 'Beg her on my behalf and tell her I’ll fly home from Barcelona to do it myself if she even thinks of saying no.’”

So you called your band, packed a bag and showed up to the airport at five in the bloody morning with a smile on your face.

And then you were off. For the first week, a local band had been chosen from each new city, to open for Loba. By the time you, Wilda, and Joane took the stage, each audience of what seemed like billions were more electric than the last. You’d never had more fun, jumping around to the music you’d worked your ass off to create with the girls. You each ran off stage, changed in a flurry and ran back to the sidelines to watch Queen light up the black ink night. And like the last time, that was about the only time you’d see much of them- till one show got delayed when a wicked storm showed no signs of passing.

Roger took Wilda to dinner, and she followed his burning trail after about a minute of pretending she wasn’t at all interested. Joane made a speech about everyone catching up one sleep, before she crashed in your bed with her shoes still on. After unlacing her heavy boots and tossing them aside, you went to find your favourite band of boys gathering in the lobby with plans to go out.

“Now the party can really start.” Crystal grinned, reaching to wrap a strong arm around your neck as he pulled you to follow the gang to the limo in waiting. You broke loose of the roadies hold and shoved him into the back of the car before crouching in yourself.

A couple of girls you’d never met sat on either side of Freddie, and cast their doe eyes to John who scooted over to make room for you. And holding the bassist’s attention was Brian, who had yet to look your way all week. Ah, just like old times. You both had been busy. But you couldn’t stop from wondering if there was something more to it…

Had you upset Brian beyond your wildest dreams, when you kissed? Did he smile at you after it happened in the way people who were so angry did, that their furry appeared in a mask of calm?

Or… did you finally get him to shut up for good? Did he realize how unremarkable you were? That you weren’t even good enough to bicker with any longer? Pushing his buttons was one thing. But you always hated the times you and Brian paired harsh words with those deadly glares. Now that you were getting the silent treatment though, you’d take his arguing with you with a relieved smile.

Freddie pulled you along into a club adorned in sickening green uplighting. The purple-tinted insides held a crowded bar and a dance floor where patrons overflowed toward the restrooms. Some tune by The Velvet Underground was pulsing through the speakers as Freddie spun you around, dancing you both closer to the mass of people doing the same.

You noticed members of your group beginning to lose themselves in the crowd when you decided a drink was in order. The bar was packed, so much so that you nearly couldn’t turn to see who you’d wedged yourself against until you felt him tense up.

Brian kept his eyes on the wall decorated with drink options and dared not move as you shifted to notice him. His hip jabbed into your side, his white knuckles rested on the ledge of the bar brushed against your arm as he drew his hands together.

“Aren’t we going to talk about it?” You asked all of a sudden. If it were up to you, you would have cornered Brian like he’d cornered you, that night. But the tour had been so busy, and this was the closest you’d been since the night he pushed you against the wall… And you couldn’t take it anymore.

Still, Brian kept his eyes pointed front and said nothing.

“You kissed me first, ya know?” You spoke plainly, desperate for a response.

The barman shoved a tall drink toward Brian’s chest just then, at the same time Freddie reached past a few strangers to yank his guitarist toward the dance floor. As he was pulled away, Brian’s eyes swept over yours, and they were prettier than ever.

///

You’d nearly forgotten all your troubles that weekend, as everyone rushed to make up the cancelled show with two in a row, and one another city away with no time to sleep, not really.

After a montage of screaming crowds, ringing guitars, and squirming in and out of too-tight clothes, a three day break awaited the lot of you at long last. You trekked behind familiar faces down a lime green hotel hall, and dreamed of sleeping until you were good and ready to wake up.

Freddie waved as he twirled into his room, and Roger followed Wilda all the way down the hall. And while you watched your feet move toward your room number a few dozen doors away, you were stopped in your tracks.

You grinned when you recognized the feeling of the fingers around your arm, and the way Brian dragged you in his tow. You didn’t have far to go, just behind the door he was already closing in one swift move…

And in a flash, the door was shut and he was kissing you like how he did before, without a word, all of a sudden. Like he was trying to suck the life out of you. You kissed him right back, like you’d been dreaming of doing since you knew how nice it was.

And then you shoved him away. Because you wanted this, but not like last time.

“You’re not going to leave me in the quiet after tonight are you? I might at least be able to stand the radio silence if I knew what it was all about.” You searched Brian’s face in the dark. All the while, you kept ahold of his shirt sleeves and slowly found your way to his haphazardly made hotel bed.

“I was afraid.”

“Afraid?” You couldn’t help but chuckle. He’d treated you with all the interest of a passive-aggressive house cat since the day you met. Brian went quiet as you guided him to sit on the mattress, leary to close the space between you until he spoke up again. Though his long fingers fell feather-light against your hips, you only kept yours on his shoulders and held his gaze, silently hoping he’d speak up again.

“Of how desperately I’ve always wanted you.” He whispered while his fingers curled to grip you the slightest bit closer. “There were about one thousand reasons I was afraid of ever kissing you, and they all seemed even scarier after I did.”

Brian let his eyes rake up your figure before meeting your own. His lips were close enough to brush yours now. It made such sense, now. All those looks weren’t really glares. All those bitter words weren’t so malice. The tension that lied between you and Brian was all to do with how badly you’d wanted to be this close all along.

Maybe he was afraid to cross that line, because of all the love he’d so recently lost. Or maybe it was because of how young and dumb you really were. And maybe it was because of something you wouldn’t come to find out for a while, yet. You decided there wasn’t time to worry over why, tonight. That could come later.

“I hope you realise now, there’s nothing to fear.” You wrapped a hand around Brian’s neck and watched his eyes search yours in the dark. Then he nodded, softly bumping his head against yours. He pulled you closer between his legs and kissed you. You pushed him to lay down and started on your mission to show Brian just how fond of him you really were.

“I’m still pissed that we could have been doing this ages ago.” You breathed a laugh as Brian’s teeth grazed your neck.

“Never could handle not getting your way, could you?” He hummed against the skin you’d started to expose.

“I mean it.” You chuckled, tugging at a few of Brian’s highlighted curls. His head lulled until he was looking at you again. Brian stayed perfectly fitted against you while his eyes peered into yours. You recognized the uncertain look on his face, but it was different than before. Softer. Sadder, maybe.

“You really want this?” He asked in a soft timbre.

“Yes.” You nodded, tracing the length of his nose just because. A bit of quiet lingered after your assurance.

“But do you want me?” Brian asked in a hush. His sweet voice saturated in a worry you didn’t realize he had.

“Yeah,” You nodded again, searching his pretty hazel eyes as you placed both of your hands on the sides of his lovely face. “I want you Bri.”

The kiss you shared then was one that meant more than you knew a kiss could. There was something about Brian, a part of him you’d always longed to know. You felt closer than ever to that side of the guitarist now, when he deepened the kiss, and you felt him smile.

///

You woke up with a song in your head. A melody left over from a dream. But instead of rushing to find a pen and paper, you rolled over to covet the warmth of your unexpected company.

Brian draped an arm across your middle and hummed in delight when you nuzzled closer. You stayed like that, perfectly content in the tangled up sheets, watching the patterns of the sun through the window on their slow shift across the room.

“We’re going to have to leave this bed at some point you know?” You sat up a little after dozing off for the third time in a row. Brian stayed happily tucked close to your side. “And someone is more than likely going to figure this out.”

“That’s fine by me.” Brian shrugged, peering up to you from the pillows you leaned against.

“We’re supposed to hate each other.” You reminded through a sleepy chuckle. Brian only grinned and blinked, conjuring up a thought.

“I never hated you. I might always be sorry for picking such fights. I did always want the best for you, I just had a nasty way saying so.” Brian murmured thoughtfully.

He caught your eye once more and the corners of his mouth turned up when he looked to find you were already staring at him, trying to memorize the perfect outline of his profile against the bright sunlight. You inched lower to meet his gaze, and said,

“I think we might’ve finally figured out what’s best for both of us.”

And the way Brian looked at you then sent a chill down your spine that raced back up and shot through your heart in one go.

“S'Just, sometimes you’re a real bitch.” You joked to fight the way your heart was beginning to beat like a drum. Because you weren’t quite brave enough to fall all the way in love yet. But you decided just as quickly that Brian was probably worth falling for.

“I know. And sometimes you’re fucking unbearable.” He countered with a smirk.

“Yeah, I guess so.” You noted with a laugh. You had it real bad for this guy. And that kind of scared the shit out of you. How could this have happened so quickly? How had you failed to see it coming? What if it was over no sooner than it began?

“But…” The only thing that broke through your hesitancy was Brian’s long fingers slowly trailing across your jaw. "Do you want me?“ You echoed his statement from the night before, in a hush. You’d only just realized the depth in asking so.

"Yeah.” Brian said, wrapping a lean arm snug around your middle without a moment’s hesitation. “I want you.”

And he said so like he was trying to encapsulate all the things that made you whole and wonderful and unbearable all at once. And even then, you giggled before leaning in for a kiss.

You spent the rest of what was left of that morning doing all the things you’d done the night before. And when you decided to finally get dressed, you and Brian hopped into your clothes while squabbling over what and when to tell your friends.

You hoped you’d get to hear his maddening whinging on for the rest of forever. Because if it ever became too much, at least you’d finally discovered some pretty effective ways to shut each other up.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

#Brian May #brian may x reader #brian may fanfiction #brian may imagine

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rosaliepostsstuff · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 13 - Of varying challenges, unexpected outbursts and nightly excursions

series masterlist

warnings: mentions of food and eating, sexual references, alcohol and underage drinking

word count: 3706

tags: @gloryekaterina ; @thatguppienamedbae ; @sagittarius-flowerchild ; @scoobiessnacks ; @pandaxnienke ; @harrysweasleys ; @ickle-ronniekins ; @hufflepuff5972 ; @calmspencer ; @izzyyy-1 ; @amourtentiaa ; @thisismynerdyself ; @hufflepuffalice ; @barneswidow ; @lumos-barnes ; @slytherclawbitch ; @weasleygrapes ; @famdomhideout ; @mollenniumfalcon ; @accioweaslcy ; @freddie1978 ; @weasleysprofessionalhoe ; @lunarlovegoodx ; @lalasunny ;

Morning took you by surprise. You couldn’t remember laying in bed much before falling asleep, or the very moment itself. It was almost as if you blinked, though when you opened your eyes it was 8 hours later.

All of last evening felt surreal. How could it be? After weeks, or months even, of emotional swings, you’d finally confessed to George? And he confessed back? Your best friend of over 6 years..?

You couldn’t fully cross out the possibility of the last couple of months being a wild fever dream.

“Morning,” Alicia muttered sleepily, following with a yawn. “You awake..?” “Mhmm… good morning,” you replied.

Angelina was already up and dressed. She was sitting by her desk, and once you saw her mischievous smile when she turned to you, you knew last night really had happened. Because this girl was just as excited about you getting the boyfriend of your dreams, as yourself.

When you walked down the stairs, the boys were already there – Fred and Lee sitting on the back of the couch and George standing in front of them. They were laughing about something, you were graced with the sound and the sight of George’s laughter the moment you stepped into the room, for a lovely start of the day.

Once Fred noticed you, you waved at them as a greeting. George’s facial expression mirrored yours - a dreamy smile, widening with every second and every step you took in his direction. Fred and Lee left, having said hi to you, muttering teasingly about letting the lovebirds have a moment to themselves.

“Morning,” you said, beaming at him with your arms outstretched. You didn’t particularly lean in to kiss him when you approached him, but George clearly went in for a hug. “Morning, love,” he replied, squeezing you tight against himself. You felt a tiny pang of disappointment in that millisecond; wondering, whether you should’ve kissed him yourself right away if you wanted to, or if maybe, he’d kiss you in a moment. Being in a relationship was a new thing to you on its own, let alone being in a relationship with George.

Yet he leaned back with a shy smile, his hands were slowly sliding back along your sides, probably ready to let go, perhaps to take your hand. He looked as if he was about to say something, but he didn’t, noticing you glance at him expectantly without even knowing. “Hmm..?” he mumbled and you felt yourself blush a bit. You couldn’t really give this one a surprise kiss, either, with his height. So you looked at him cheekily, puckering out your lips.

You saw the realisation flash through his gaze, then a glimmer of his confidence exhibited in a small smirk. He leaned in and kissed you sweetly on the lips.

“I keep forgetting I can just do that, now,” he chuckled, before giving you another kiss on the cheek. “Not only you can, but I’d also say it’s encouraged,” you said shyly, lowering your gaze for a moment and biting on your bottom lip. He gave you an appraising sort of look with a defiant smile, standing back straight.

“I’ll keep that in mind,” he said, giving your waist a light squeeze before letting go, to take one of your hands as the two of you went on your way to the Great Hall. “Did you sleep well?” “I did, actually. Very well, even. And you?” you questioned back with care. “Mhm,” he nodded, “wanna hear what I dreamed of?” You giggled. “I don’t know, do I?” you quipped, giving him a suggestive look.

He choked a laugh, looking at you surprised. He cleared his throat, before explaining himself – “it was all decent.”

“I’m worried he’s just saying that,” you admitted to Fred and George, sitting by the breakfast table. Lee sat separately, with his girlfriend, so you were left alone with those two.

In the beginning, you found yourself speaking to George quietly, sometimes even in a whisper. You were conscious about how you referred to him, as did he, avoiding pet names that would otherwise slip your tongues. For a while you ate mostly in silence, Fred’s eyes kept glancing between you and George as if looking for some physical changes in you; like huge, flashing letters saying ‘I’m in a relationship’. Yet no matter how hard he looked, the two of you looked just the same as 24 hours before – excluding your facial expressions and general demeanour.

This prompted you to try and shift the atmosphere a bit, thinking of a new conversation topic. That’s how you started talking about how the three of you disappointed Lee as a group of friends when he wanted to introduce his girlfriend to you officially. Since then, you had all apologised, and Lee being himself – did not hold a grudge for long, but you still felt bad.

“Why would he,” Fred shrugged, “if he says he forgives us, then he forgives us.” “Granted, he did call us a couple of interesting names in the privacy of our dorm room-“ added George, to which Fred quickly interjected “-and interestingly, he seems to have left you out in that,” turning to you. “… To his own luck,” muttered George. “Anyway, he had his rant, he’s not hiding his feelings.”

“Nonetheless, we should probably make up for it. And we still haven’t even met the girl,” you pointed out. “True…” George agreed. Fred craned his neck, looking around the great hall. “You think they’re eating in a broom cupboard? I can’t see him anywhere… and I wanted to see what she looks like…”

“Let’s just meet up in the Three Broomsticks, then,” George proposed. “… treat them both to loads of butterbeer..?” you added. “Yeah,” he mumbled, clearly finding this the best solution. “Freddie?” He shrugged. “Sounds good to me.”

With that bit settled, you were still left with a whole day on your hands, torn between your sense of responsibility – with a few homework assignments left to do, and there was always some studying to be done – and spending time with your boyfriend.

“D’you have any plans for today..?” you asked George. “Nothing in particular, why?” “I should do some schoolwork…” “We’ll probably just hang about, mess around…” George pondered. “… do some work, make some business…” added Fred. “Yeah.” “I think I’ll go to the library after lunch, then,” you decided, practising some self-discipline.

Almost a couple of hours of sitting in the library passed before you started to seriously doubt your self-discipline. The assignments you still had to do seemed less and less grave, you were more and more sure, that the time you had left was more than plenty. Just a bit more, and then we’ll take the rest of the afternoon off – you told yourself, planning out your presentation for ancient runes.

Sucked into your work, used to people walking around the library to access the books they needed, you hadn’t noticed a familiar pair of footsteps approach you.

“Everything going well?” George asked, sliding into the seat next to you and effectively startling you. “Good Merlin!” you exclaimed, yet cautious enough not to attract Madam Pince’s attention. George rubbed your shoulder apologetically with a sheepish smile. “It’s… alright,” you answered, not mentioning the fact that you were about to give up. “Want any help?” “Help..? You want to help me with my homework? And how’s yours going?” you snickered. You had usually been the one to nag George about completing and handing his assignments in, as both he and Fred thought that their presence in class alone exceeded expectations. “I’ll have you know that I’ve been on top of my homework lately, handing everything in, on time, like a good boy,” he defended himself, holding a hand over his heart, as you hummed in acknowledgement. “Thank you, Georgie, I’ll be fine on my own with this.” “’kay then, I’ll just keep my girl company,” he concluded.

You felt your heart flutter at being called his girl, thinking this would really take some time getting used to. And you knew one thing for certain – you’d have to do some more work now.

The next day, more like usual, you woke up before the boys. Not all that hungry, you decided to hang out on your own in the common room a bit, in case they did come downstairs before the time for breakfast would be over.

Fred was the one to wake up first, while George slept in on a Sunday morning. He walked downstairs and the two of you went to have breakfast on your own.

Once you were sitting by the table, you felt one thing hanging over you – no matter how awkward it may have seemed.

“You know he thought we were going out?” you blurted out without providing further context at first. “Like, you and I, actually seeing each other,” you muttered as if the concept was possible only in some totally alternate universe.

Fred snickered quietly. “Thanks, love.” “Oh, you know what I mean.” Fred smiled to himself at how much he did know, that George thought him and you were a thing; the image of drunk George trying to fight him still quite fresh in his mind. No point in telling you that. “Yeah. Being a teenager in love seems like a real pain in the ass, makes me glad to be single.” “Really..?” you asked with a hint of disbelief in your voice, and Fred shrugged.

And you realised, that suddenly, all that pain in the ass was irrelevant to you. Being a teenager in love meant the constant possibility of stupid misunderstandings and pointless jealousy, causing so much emotional pain – you’d gone through so much of it in the last months, yet the morning you woke up as George’s girlfriend, all of that seemed tiny in comparison to the happiness and excitement that love brought. It seemed irrelevant.

Excitement made your heartbeat slightly faster, as you made your way to the Three Broomsticks with George and Fred – about to meet Lee and Tara, his girlfriend.

You had been informed, or rather threatened, by Fred, that should you and George act too couple-y during that meeting, successfully making him an absolute third wheel, he’d convince Tara that you’re actually a throuple. Neither you nor George would put it past him and you’d rather spare yourself the awkwardness of explaining to the girl that your boyfriend’s twin brother is just a nutter.

When you arrived, Tara and Lee had already been inside, saving a booth. You immediately recognised the girl, and as the conversation slowly unravelled, you understood more and more, why the relationship had been secret for so long.

Tara was a 7th year Hufflepuff who you shared a few classes with, yet you’ve never exchanged a word with her. Mostly because of the fact that the girl kept to herself. She was clearly very shy, especially if one’s used to being friends with George, Fred and Lee. She warmed up, though, and you quickly saw just how sweet of a personality she had. You had to keep yourself from ‘aww’-ing, seeing her and Lee together. Though you couldn’t help wondering - how the relationship came about.

“Soo… how did the two of you meet?” you decided to ask and you could see the girl blush a bit. “I… I lost a bracelet in the quidditch stands once, and as I kept looking and looking for it, Lee came to help me,” she explained. “I thought she was cute, I couldn’t not try my luck. So I kept going after her in class until she agreed to go out with me.” “I thought you were nice, I was just… shy,” Tara giggled melodically and you couldn’t fight the grin off your face. At some point during that story, George’s hand snaked behind your back to rest on your waist and you felt content.

Going back to the castle you concluded, you wouldn’t mind if Tara made a permanent addition to your regular group of friends.

On Tuesdays, you had charms before lunch. George had moved to sit next to you permanently and behind you, past Alicia, Angelina and Fred, sat Tara next to Lee.

Charms lessons were never particularly organised, Professor Flitwick, even though a brilliant teacher, did not have the talent of keeping a class quiet, like Professor McGonagall or Snape, for example. Most times, the lecture part of the class was somewhat civilised – most people were listening to whatever Flitwick was teaching (at least with one ear).

But that day, no one seemed to pay attention to the man pouring his heart out at the front of the class. Students were chatting, reading magazines, playing exploding snap or practising spells – completely unrelated to the lesson’s topic.

You were guilty as well, charmed by George’s handsome face you sat pretty much with your back turned to the Professor. You were giggling at your boyfriends jokes as he held your hand upon the desktop, playing with it. He even brought up the topic of Valentine’s Day coming up in less than two weeks, when an unlikely event happened.

Professor Flitwick had had enough. You were quite sure you had never heard him produce a sound as loud as when he yelled at you all. His usually immaculate hairstyle became dishevelled as he let go of all his pent up emotions.

Once he was done shouting, the class was silent like never before.

“It is high time you all learn some self-discipline and organisation and do something productive in your 7th year, NEWT-level class. You will make groups or you may work alone if you like, and for next week’s class, I want each group to invent a charm. I expect to have each group’s composition on my desk, by tomorrow afternoon,” he instructed sternly. “Class dismissed.”

With your jaw still slightly opened, you glanced to your side at George. His eyebrow was raised and he seemed almost impressed. Turning to your friends at the back, you involuntarily spoke in almost a whisper, even as most people were already shuffling out of the classroom. “Do we work together? The five of us..?”

Inventing a spell was quite simple, but still not easy. It’s not something that’s taught usually, either. Tara, Lee, Fred, George and you were currently sitting around a table in the library, trying to come up with what kind of charm you could even invent, for a start.

“That’s rubbish… there’s already a charm for everything..!” Fred complained, tapping his fingernails on the table. He was right, everything you came up with already had a charm for it. “Let’s invent a charm that you can use instead of having to shower,” Lee proposed with enthusiasm. “Good luck with that. If it were so easy, you think no one would’ve invented it already? There’s a scouring charm, but no charm for washing your own stinky body?” you said pessimistically. “How about a charm you could dry your soaked robes with? There’s the hot air charm, but what if we made something that would make the water just vanish, or evaporate instantly?” George elaborated. “But what if you miss? Especially while we’re inventing it, we’d need to test it, and what if you hit yourself instead of your clothes..?” Tara interrupted, her face showing slight terror as she was probably imagining the possible outcomes.

“We need something simple…” you muttered, deep in thought, and deep sighs from everyone around followed.

Instead of sitting in a circle, sighing without any outcome, you decided to start with some theory. You all shuffled around the library, looking for books with information on inventing spells you could learn something from. It was quite a sight, seeing Fred and George buried in books. With all that new knowledge, you decided to call it a day, planning to meet up again over the weekend, hoping to come up with some ideas over time.

Friday evening marked a whole week since you and George had started dating. Angie and Katie thought it’s been far too long since you had some proper girl time, so you decided to have a little slumber party.

You were just finishing up setting up the pillows and blankets so that the four of you could sit comfortably on the floor in the middle of the room, when Alicia stepped inside, clutching a few fire-whisky bottles in her hands.

You stared at her with your mouth slightly open as Angelina emerged, clicking her fingers in approval. “Don’t you have some quidditch practise in the morning or something?” “Nope,” she replied defiantly, looking at you with mischief written all over her face. You could’ve expected it to be that type of girls’ night.

The alcohol burned the back of your throat in the beginning, but as the conversation went on, you started enjoying the warming sensation and the fire-whisky began to go down like a soft drink.

“But hey, hey hey… elephant in the room,” Alicia pointed her finger upwards, looking at you. “… hooow is it, dating your perfect boy?” Angelina asked, draping an arm over your shoulder and accentuating the last couple of words. You giggled dorkily at the thought. “It’s… awesome.” “Just awesome?” “Shh- shh… how’s his kissing?” Angelina questioned further, lowering the tone of her voice. Your face went even hotter if that was possible. “Ugh- it’s out-of-this-world. Seriously, I didn’t think snogging could feel this good,” you replied, a bit abashed, thinking dreamily of your boyfriend's lips in your drunk state.

“And have you…” Angelina trailed off. “…tried the hokey-pokey..?” Katie butted in, wiggling her eyebrows. “…the dance of the beast with two backs..?” giggled Alicia. “Gosh, no! You perverts..!” you laughed at them. You felt slightly nervous at the mere thought of doing such things with George. “I’m still getting used to holding hands and kissing after being in the friend zone for so long, I think I’d end up with a heart attack..!”

After that, the fire-whisky drained quickly. You got bored with party games, and when someone, not quite clear who, suggested getting some snacks from the kitchens, suddenly everyone was on board. It was past curfew, you slipped out of the almost deserted common room and the sight of empty castle corridors apparently woke up the sense of adventure in your drunk group of friends. Naturally, even though you tried to keep quiet, you weren’t really aware of how loud you were still being. And you weren’t even going in the right direction, not that any of you had noticed.

But when Katie thought she’d heard a noise, all of you panicked. You ran for your life for a while, just to realise you had lost your friends after a few minutes. Terrified, you walked up to a corridor intersection to scope your way out, when you heard someone running from behind you. It was dark and you forgot to bring your wand from your room, you pressed your back against the wall, feeling your heart about to stop.

Then a hand grabbed you by the wrist, pulling you towards one of the corridors. “Come on..!” whisper-yelled a familiar voice, bringing a bit of comfort, even though you still had no clue what was happening. George dragged you into a broom cupboard some distance away, quickly locking the door behind you.

He loosened the panicked grip on your wrist and stood fully facing you know in this tight space, holding his hands up on the wall above your shoulders. “Georgie..?” you whispered, still not fully certain. “That’s me, baby, but shh…” he shushed you, and a second later you could hear quick, uneven footsteps behind the door, then slowly fading away. Whoever that was, only passed by the door.

“Georgie?” “Hmm?” “I’m very drunk,” you blurted out, suddenly feeling the need to be completely open and honest with him. He held in a laugh. “I… I‘ve noticed.”

Since he was standing so close anyway, you wrapped your arms around his middle. Your head fell to rest against his chest on its own, feeling sudden tiredness wash over you. His hands slipped down the wall to wrap around you too.

“Why were you wandering around the corridors in the dark?” he asked. “We tried to get some snacks from the kitchens.” “You realise you’re on the complete opposite side of the castle..?” he said, to be met with silence. “…Nevermind.” “How did you find me?” “Fred, Lee and I were setting something up when we heard you all in the distance. Then I saw you run off in the other direction for no reason, so I ran after you.”

You felt stupid now, trying your best not to think just how stupid the sober you would be feeling the following morning.

“I think we should be clear now. Follow me and try to be as quiet as possible,” he instructed, before opening the door, checking the perimeter and leading you out – holding your hand tight the whole way.

When you stepped into the common room, you saw the rest of the girls already there, waiting with Fred and Lee. “Right, I think you’ve all had enough adventures for one night, don’t you think?” said Lee with a raise of his eyebrows, turning to them. They all just murmured in reply, clearly as embarrassed as you were, then made their way to the dorms.

“I think he’s right, love,” George said to you softly, squeezing your hand lightly, and you nodded, looking down at the floor. “Will you go to bed now?” “Yes, I will.” “And Y/N/N?” You hummed sleepily. “Next time you drink, try to stay in one place, I don’t want anything happening to you, alright?” You felt further embarrassed, but his concern warmed your heart. “I’ll do my best.”

“I love you,” he whispered, cupping your face and giving you a lingering kiss on the forehead. “Good night.” “Good night Georgie, I love you too…” you replied, not really wanting to go to sleep just yet. But he let go of you after that, so with a slight pout, you shuffled back to your dorm for the night.

#george weasley #george weasley x reader #george weasley series #george weasley fanfiction

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just-a-poor-boy-queen · 3 years ago

Note

Part 12 of Jimercury Kid series

Jim wasn’t sure what exactly drew him to the little shop on the corner.

He had been sent into town by Freddie to get Khaleel a new coat and boots, given that spring was coming and, with it, a shitload of rain. He had spent the last two hours trailing around various department stores but had failed to find anything suitable. It was either the wrong size, the wrong colour or something he knew that Freddie wouldn’t allow his son to be seen dead in. Trust him to fall in love with a man with such exquisite taste.

He was walking back to his Volvo in defeat when he noticed the little shop on the corner, almost hidden between two larger stores, with several coats being advertised at the window. He decided it couldn’t hurt to check it out; even if he was unable to find a coat for Khaleel, he might be able to appease Freddie with an antique or two.

A bell jingled as he walked through the shop door and was greeted by a little old woman behind the counter. He took his time surveying the small space, examining the various books and knick-knacks until he reached a rail of donated clothes. His eye fell upon a little yellow raincoat, with a matching waterproof hat and red boots, sitting in the corner.

‘Aren’t they adorable?’ The woman called from across the counter. ‘A lady brought them in just yesterday because her little boy outgrew them.’

Jim took a moment to examine the clothes; they were a bit on the big side, but they looked comfortable and Khaleel would have more than enough time to grow into them.

‘How much for the set?’ he asked the woman.

‘You can have them for a fiver.’ She replied. ‘The money from each purchase goes to the food bank down the road.’

Jim personally felt that five pounds for such good quality clothes was daylight robbery. He collected the coat, the hat, and the boots and once the lady had put them all in a bag, put a £20 note down on the counter.

‘Please, keep the change.’ He insisted. It was going to a good cause after all.

Freddie had given him a blank cheque for his shopping like he usually did, but Jim wanted to pay for Khaleel’s gift himself this time. Despite being together for so long, he still felt guilty spending Freddie’s money and much preferred to take it out of his own paycheque. His shopping complete, he returned to the Volvo and drove back to Garden Lodge, wondering what Freddie would make of his purchase.

‘Jim?’ Freddie called out the moment he was through the front door, kicking off his shoes. ‘Jim, are you home?’

It had been a long day at the studio, and he wanted nothing more than to snuggle up on the sofa with a warm cup of tea and his two favourite boys in the world.

‘In the kitchen!’ Came Jim’s distant reply, promptly followed by a loud giggle from Khaleel.

Smiling, Freddie made his way down to the kitchen, stopping in his tracks when he reached the doorway and slowly took in the sight before him. Khaleel was dressed in the most adorable little raincoat he had ever seen, his head covered by a matching hat and his feet wedged into a pair of bright red boots that looked slightly too big for him. The little boy was shrieking with laughter, jumping around the kitchen as if splashing in imaginary puddles while Jim watched from the counter with a smile on his face.

‘Baba, look!’ Khaleel cheered, clapping his hands together excitedly. ‘Daddy got for me! Daddy got for me!’

‘Darling, you look gorgeous!’ Freddie couldn’t help but clap his hands as well, his son looked so cute! ‘I hope you said thank you to Daddy for buying you such nice clothes.’

‘Don’t worry, he did.’ Remarked Jim, though this prompted Khaleel to run up to him and go ‘thank you, thank you, thank you!’ all over again.

‘These are lovely, dear.’ Freddie said later, after Khaleel had bounced himself into exhaustion and they had put him down for a nap. He examined the little raincoat for a moment before hanging it on the hook by the other coats. ‘How much did it cost?’

Jim’s lips twitched uncertainly. ‘A fiver.’

‘For the coat?’

‘For all of it.’

Freddie whipped around, his eyes wide. ‘All of it?’

‘I couldn’t find anything in the department stores, so I went to a charity shop.’ Jim said a bit nervously. ‘The money goes to the local food bank, so I gave the lady £20 from my own money. You’re not angry, are you?’

‘Why on earth would I be angry, you pillock?’ Freddie laughed and put his arms around Jim’s neck. ‘You bought our son a wonderful gift with your own money, which will go to help other people. And Khaleel loves it – he wanted to go to bed in it!’

Jim sniggered at the memory, cut off when Freddie brushed their lips together in a sweet kiss.

‘You know that my money is your money too, right?’ Freddie mumbled against his mouth. ‘You don’t have to feel guilty about spending it. Especially for Khaleel.’

‘I know, Freddie. But sometimes, I want to do things from my own pocket, you know? It’s just the way I am.’

Freddie gave him a mock glare. ‘You and your bloody independence!’

They both burst out laughing and went in for another kiss.

Omg you included the kid hc sent by an anon! AND ALSO MY META ABOUT JIM😭😭😭 You are so amazing and so talented and I am so honoured to have you grace my tiny blog💙

About the fic, oof, my heart. Khaleel must've looked so damn cute in that little raincoat and hat and boots, and I can imagine his parents going awwww over their little boy. And lmao, Freddie playfully chastising Jim on his want for independence is so in character.

As I said in the original ask, buying things from his own pocket for Khaleel, and Freddie's reaction would've given Jim the assurance that he was a good parent who was capable to provide for his child. This trait existed in the real Jim, and I love how you've extrapolated it into this series💙

(More drabbles by writer anon)

#ask response #jim hutton #freddie mercury #freddie and jim and their baby #anon writing

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rossmccallsqueen · 4 years ago

Text

Music and Lyrics

Brian May x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Brian have just had a beautiful little girl, but she doesn’t have a name yet.

Warnings: N/A (just lots of fluff)

Word count: 1.6K (I know it’s short I’m sorry)

A/N: I know it’s been awhile and I’m so sorry y’all. Quarantine has not been my friend, but I’m so happy to be writing again. I hope you enjoy!

Nine months later and here you were, in your hospital room, absolutely exhausted. You’d been told time and time again that being pregnant and giving birth were truly tiring, but now that you were experiencing it first hand it was an entirely different ball game. It was your first pregnancy after all, so this was so new to you. Your saving grace had been your husband. Brian was not a first-time dad, but this was his first with you. He had been so excited throughout your whole pregnancy, wanting to experience all of your firsts with you.

You knew it was because he hated himself for missing those things with his other children. He was going to be there the whole time, he told you. And he had been. When the two of you had heard your daughter’s heartbeat for the first time you remembered Brian had tears in his eyes. You could tell this was special to him, and the love you felt for him was indescribable in those moments.

You would be lying to yourself if you hadn’t been nervous about Brian becoming a dad again. In the back of your mind, there was that little worry that he wouldn’t give your daughter as much attention and things like that. Every time you’d convince yourself out of it but for some reason, the thought wouldn’t go away. Anxiety was a funny thing sometimes when it came to things like that, you thought. Brian was amazing with his other kids. He had spent so long righting his wrongs with them, and you felt he had done so.

But what if the same things happened again? You didn’t want him to be the dad that your daughter only sees once every couple of weeks. Everyone knows the early years are so important to a child’s well being and life in the long run. You looked over at him, as he was asleep on the couch chair thing that the hospital always puts next to the bed for dads when their significant other was in labor. He looked peaceful, unlike yourself. You’d think that after pushing a whole baby out of you that you’d be tired enough to sleep, but apparently not.

You thought you should at least try to shut your eyes. Maybe then you would be able to trick yourself into falling asleep, but you had your doubts. Just because your eyes were closed, didn’t mean that your brain would turn off at the same time.

Not long after you started to trick yourself into falling asleep, you heard a soft knock on the door.

“Yeah?” You heard Brian say.

“I saw Mum was asleep, so I thought Dad would want to spend some time with the little one. Still no name yet?

“Not yet. I would love to take her.” Brian responded. Small coos came from her mouth as Brian gently took her from the nurse. Followed by the nurse’s footsteps out of the room and the door shut, you opened your eyes just enough to see Brian lean back against his chair bed with your daughter on his chest.

That was another thing that had been on your mind, trying to figure out her name. Whenever one of you came up with something the other one didn’t like it. You were about to ask Freddie because he had named Tiger Lily for Roger. Freddie seemed to be the best at coming up with names. But Brian insisted. He thought that the two of you should come up with it since it was your first child. You just had a child and there were a million things on your mind, no wonder you couldn’t sleep.

You peeked your eye open again one more time, and you saw Brian kissing your daughter’s forehead. He had tucked her in under his t-shirt and was rubbing her back. You kind of wished that you weren’t pretending to be asleep so that you could get the camera out and take a picture. However the more you looked, the more you could tell it was a special moment.

“I cannot believe we still don’t have a name for you, little one. I thought your brother and sister were small, but you give a new meaning to the word.” He spoke so softly. It would always amaze you how he could sing so loudly on stage, but talk so softly to tiny humans.

“You’re absolutely beautiful, just like your mum. You’ve got my nose though, you poor thing. Your mum will say I have a wonderful nose but I’m not so sure that I agree with her.” You smiled, as he was right. You loved Brian’s nose. She started getting a little fussy, and Brian kissed her again.

“Would you like to hear a song? Yeah how about we sing a song. You’ll grow up hearing lots of it baby girl.”

Isn’t she lovely? Isn’t she wonderful?

Isn’t she precious? Less than one minute old

I never thought through love we’d be, making one as lovely as she

But isn’t she lovely, made from love?

He was singing one of your favorite Stevie Wonder songs. He had sung it to her while she was growing inside you, so you knew he would sing it to her once she was born. Your damn hormones were making your eyes water looking at the two of them because it was so sweet. Any worries that you had about Brian before were slowly starting to go out the window. You could already tell that his whole heart and more loved your daughter. Within a day, she was already your whole world.

Isn't she pretty? Truly the angel's best

Boy, I'm so happy, We have been Heaven blessed

I can't believe what God has done

Through us, He's given life to one

But isn't she lovely made from love?

Brian made the song sound like something completely new. His voice had put your daughter to sleep and it was starting to do the same thing to you. You didn’t want to fall asleep yet though, you wanted to watch how precious Brian was being with your daughter. Then it came to you again, you still hadn’t thought of a name for her.

You’d already suggested just about every name you could think of. At least the ones that you’d read in all the baby books you’d been given. She was already looking to be a Daddy’s girl, so maybe Brian would think of something.

You watched the two of them a little bit more. Brian continued to sing and your daughter didn’t make a fuss. His voice was like magic to her. That daddy daughter bond was definitely one to be taken seriously. She had Brian wrapped around her little finger so tightly already.

She had a head full of hair, which she definitely got from Brian. You could see the little curls forming on the top of her head, just like his. She had his nose and his hair, but he’d told you that she had your eyes and your smile (which he had also said were the best features to get). You wanted to hold her, but at the same time it was the sweetest thing getting to observe them. Brian had paused in his singing, and you took the chance to “wake up” from your nap.

“Hello love, who do you have there?” You asked. Brian looked up at you and a warm smile spread across his face.

“Just our little one. She’s the most beautiful little girl I’ve ever laid my eyes on. How did we create something like this?” He kissed her forehead one more time.

“I’ve been asking myself that since she got here. But ya know what?”

“What is it my love?” Brian could barely take his eyes off your daughter.

“She still doesn’t have a name. Maybe we should come up with one?” You suggested, a little smile showing in your tone.

“That might be a good idea, yes.” He laughed a little, and got up out of his chair while holding your daughter tightly in his arms. She was so small his arms almost swallowed her. You moved a little so that Brian could sit down with you on the bed. He maneuvered so that your daughter was laying on the bed in front of you two so that you could both get a good look at her.

“Any ideas Mr. May?” You asked.

“Not a one. How about you Mrs. May?” It always made you feel all warm and glowy inside when he called you that. That would definitely never get old.

“I think I have one.” You smiled. You’d finally thought of it.

“Care to share with the class?” He raised an eyebrow and you couldn’t help but laugh.

“I heard you singing to her. She loved the sound of your voice, it was almost like magic. So I think we should call her Melody.” You looked at Brian for his reaction. His eyes lit up like it was Christmas, and you knew that was the one.

“That’s it. That’s her name! Melody May. What a wonderful name for a wonderful little girl made from love.”

But isn’t she lovely? Made from love.

———————

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#danielle writes #borhap #bohemian rhapsody #queen #brian may #brian may x reader #brian may x reader fluff #fluff #fic #brian may fluff #brian may imagine #brian may x reader fic #brian may fic #lyrics

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somarsword · 4 years ago

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Sleep on the Floor - Part 2

ROGER TAYLOR X READER

Hi again :> So I should probably warn you ahead that this story isn't as realistic as other fanfics. The boys are currently on their 1976 tour so that's the route we follow in terms of location but not much else. Let's just pretend you (the reader) haven't heard of the band which is why you aren't entirely psyched when you met them. Uh yeah... guess that's most of it? Oh also, sorry for being pretty inconsistent about Rog's attitude towards you. I just felt it would be more appropriate this way.

Enjoy the read :)

picture taken from pinterest, posted by @hoopdiddydo_

WARNING: none. Cursing?

word count: 1.2k words

February 8, 1976 - New York

You had spent the whole day yesterday attempting to walk as far as you could, but no matter how much your legs hurt from how hard you'd pushed yourself, you couldn't make it even a fraction out of this hellhole. So here you were, now sitting outside a gas station eating a sad excuse of a meal.

You're all out of options. You had lost almost all contact with your friends after they had moved to other states, and the ones who were in New York were Simon's friends first. Your mom wouldn't understand if you told her, she never really loved you anyway, she only loved the idea of having someone to show off. If you were to tell her this she'd shun you and force you back into the arms of your 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒊𝒏𝒈 fiancé.

You had no one. Not a single person to run to.

𝐹𝑢𝑐𝑘, 𝑠ℎ𝑜𝑢𝑙𝑑'𝑣𝑒 𝑘𝑒𝑝𝑡 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑡𝑜 𝑠𝑒𝑙𝑙 𝑖𝑡.

Shaking your head, you stand and walk over to the payphone situated next to the entrance of the convenience shop.

Only option. Last hope.

The line rings for about 2 minutes before he finally picks up.

"Hello?" his voice slightly raspier than normal.

"Hey Roger, it's uh... well actually you never caught my name, but it's Y/n. The girl from the Ritz the other night" you hear shuffling on the other line.

"Oh yeah, right. Are you alright?" he asks groggily, concern laced in his voice.

"I've been better" you say, letting out a small laugh, "Actually that's why I was calling, are you still in New York?"

"Yeah" he takes a deep breath in "It's our last day here actually"

"Oh. Are you still up for a chat?" you ask him hesitantly.

"We're talking now aren't we?" he says, obviously confused.

"Well yeah. I just-" you pause, closing your eyes and sighing deeply before continuing, "I need to ask you a favor and I need to ask it in person"

The line goes silent, and for a second you believe you may have lost you last chance of escaping. You hear him let out a slightly irritated breathe before reluctantly responding.

"Okay. 30 minutes at the coffee shop at 5th Ave." is all he says before dropping the phone call.

••• -•- •• •--•

"Hey, thanks for meeting me" you say as Roger approaches the table. He nods in response, taking a seat opposite you.

"So what is it you wanted to ask?" He asks once he's settled in.

"You mentioned you were on tour the other night..." you trail off and glance up at him, watching him closely. He nods for you to continue. "Well I was hoping I could catch a ride to the next state."

His eyebrows furrow, both confusion and disbelief written on his face.

"I barely know you" there's a hint of annoyance as he says so, shaking his head.

"Look I know it's a big deal for me to be asking this, but it's the only option I have left. Please. I'll even work for my spot there if that's what it takes. Just please. I need to get out of here." you beg and as he stares back at you his irritation slowly dissipates.

••• -•- •• •--•

"Where the bloody hell have you been?" You hear someone ask as Roger enters the bus in search of his manager.

"Where's Miami?" is all he says in response, ignoring the previous question thrown at him.

"He's at the back. Are you gonna answer me or-" Roger pops his head out of the bus, quickly motioning for you to follow him, disregarding the other man's question again.

As you step in the three men lounging inside turn their heads towards you before voicing their frustration at the blonde.

"So this is where you've been? Couldn't you have kept it in your pants 'til we reached Detroit?"

"Do you always have to be shagging someone at every second?"

Roger ignores the comments of the other men as you both make your way to the back. Once there, you find a man sat at the corner, a bunch of papers set next to him.

"Jim" Roger begins, making the man turn his attention away from the documents and towards the both of you. He raises his brows, signalling Roger to carry on.

"Are there any openings left for the roadies or interns?" Roger asks.

"I don't think so. Why?" He asks, glancing at you.

"This lady here doesn't have enough money to get out of state and was hoping to hitch a ride with us. She offered to work as compensation" You nod, agreeing to Roger's statement. You hastily grab the folder in your bag, handing it to the man.

"I can help with finances, I have a degree in accountancy" You rush out, hoping to convince him. He scans the contents of the folder for a few seconds before closing it again.

𝑁𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑜𝑛𝑜

"Please sir, I'll even scrub the toilets. Doesn't matter what job you give me, I'll do my best. I can't stay here. Please" you beg. In your 24 years on earth, never had you ever thought you'd be begging 2 strangers to take you with them.

The man chuckles slightly at your sudden outburst, shaking his head in amusement.

"You don't have to do any of that sort, I've been struggling with organizing the finances so you'll come in handy." he hands back your folder, a smile gracing his face.

••• -•- •• •--•

It's been a couple of hours since you've watched the tall buildings you've grown up with shrink, slowly vanishing from your line of sight. The boys had all gone to sleep just a little over an hour ago, leaving you to sleep on the couch, but no matter how hard you tried you couldn't sleep.

With a exhausted huff you sit up abruptly causing the book on your chest to fall on the ground with a thud. Cursing silently, you reach down to pick it up. Just as you lift your head, you're met with the singer of the band emerging from the sleeping area. Freddie Mercury, you think his name was.

"Can't sleep either darling?" he ask, taking a seat beside you. You shake your head, frowning. He let's out a small laugh, understanding your frustration.

"You know, you look awfully familiar. Have we met somewhere before?" he's now looking directly at you, scanning your face for the answer.

"I don't think so" You tell him, shifting your gaze away from him uncomfortably.

A few minutes of silence falls between the both of you before Freddie shoots up from his position, now fully standing in front of you.

"Wait, I remember now. You're the lady from the Ritz the other night! Right?" He whisper-screams with glee, pacing around a bit. Before you can respond he speaks again, "What are you doing on this bus with us darling? You should be planning your wedding!"

You close your eyes tightly, beginning to feel the familiar sting of tears forming. At your silence Freddie pauses his pacing and glances at you.

"Can we not talk about it?" is all you manage to say as you do your best to keep your breathing steady. You feel the couch dip once more as he resumes his space next to you. He says nothing.

"I know I owe you lot an explanation for my sudden appearance on your tour but-" you cut yourself off, aggressively wiping the tears with the back of your hand. "I'm not ready to talk about it" you finally choke out. He hums in acknowledgement.

"Alright lovie, it's alright. No pressure, you don't have to explain anything to us alright?" He says soothingly as he rubs your back in a circular motion.

You nod in appreciation.

#roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #ben hardy!roger taylor #Jim Beach #freddie mercury #queen fanfic

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kathyprior4200 · 4 years ago

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A Tale of Two Shadow Men

1920s New Orleans was a vibrant place full of jazz, music, and a blending of various cultures. Good food and music were the few things that could bring the rich, the poor and everyone in between together. A few times during the year, like during Mardi Gras, people could forget their ordinary lives and just lose themselves in their minds and in the moment.

Of course, reality would rear its ugly head once again, and the people would go their separate ways. The rich lived in the well-maintained Garden District, surrounded by mansions, ivy, elegant clothing and luxury. In contrast, the poor and working class gave up many hours to earn enough money just to feed their families. That is, if they were even lucky enough to have jobs. Women and non-white individuals had it worse in comparison to the privileged white men.

Within New Orleans, there is an infamous tale that nearly everyone knows. One that, at first glance, seems like a myth to frighten children or to keep troublemakers in line. But this tale is aimed not just at children…and it’s all too real. It serves as a warning to anyone who might easily be swayed down the wrong path.

It is the classic tale of the Shadow Man.

The Shadow Man in question is Francois Keith Facilier, more commonly known as Dr. Facilier. He is noticeable by his dark brown skin, black mustache, slender build and graceful moves. He wears purple and black and carries a cane. His suave personality and silver tongue could convince many people to believe him. Many individuals thought their wishes would come true after seeing the shady businessman, only to find themselves grow old or hairy or have bad luck follow them around. All the while, Dr. Facilier would smirk and count the coins in his hands. His violet eyes are full of greed, reflecting his selfish nature. Dr. Facilier is notorious for scamming people, making deals, and smooth-talking his way out of almost anything.

Born June 4, 1880, in New Orleans, Dr. Facilier grew up in a poor household. Due to his background and the constant racism in his life, Facilier grew to be envious of the rich early on in his life. Ironically enough, his mother, Clementine, had royal blood. Her father (Facilier’s maternal grandfather), Louis was a king of New Orleans, making her a princess. Clementine was also royal in that she was a descendent of Marie Laveau, the Voodoo Queen of New Orleans. Clementine was a beautiful black woman who worked tirelessly to help with her son’s future. She had fallen in love with David, her dark-skinned husband. Clementine fell from grace before Facilier’s birth when her lovely estate was ransacked and burned by jealous criminals. She was soon forced to start her life from scratch. She eventually met a chef named David, fell in love and got married to him.

Interestingly enough, Dr. Facilier’s maternal grandmother was none other than Mama Odie, the blind Voodoo priestess who was born in 1729! (She’s 197 in 1926, older than Marie Laveau) (Mama Odie knew Marie Laveau during her lifetime and they collaborated on magic rituals!) Her expertise in Voodoo magic and spiritual bond with Marie enabled her to live as long as she did.

Facilier’s parents lived in a poor area near the bayou swamp. Over time, David became alcoholic and distant from his son. He was drafted into World War One and was killed in battle. Single and alone, the innocence that Clementine had was eventually gone. Clementine sought the wealth and luxury she had previously enjoyed. She desired it so much that she went to Mama Odie for guidance. Mama Odie told her that she and Dr. Facilier should enjoy the pleasant modest life they had.

Facilier used to be in love with a woman (who would give birth to his daughters Freddie and Celia), but she then pursued a wealthy man, making him jealous. Facilier used to use magic for good with Mama Odie but turned to the dark side.

But a modest life wasn’t good enough for either of them. Not with the daily struggles and up-turned noses from royalty and the better-off.

Clementine instilled a drive for greed into her son early on. She taught him that life simply was not fair, and that the wealthy whites always got their way. Facilier was upset that those like Prince Naveen and Eli “Big Daddy” La Bouff could enjoy their lives without laborious work or discrimination. Before long, Clementine got so desperate that she went to the dark Loa to seek their aid. They offered her wealth and a chance to start her own business. Soon enough, Clementine was running her own parlor where she read people’s fortunes and offered them their fantasies for money. She even went as far as becoming a mistress to a few of her male clients in exchange for a heap of money and jewelry.

Facilier learned of her tricks at a young age and she taught him the art of acting and manipulation. For a while, Clementine was content on watching other’s lives dwindle away while she could feel the satisfaction of being recognized and respected once again. (She made sure that those who ransacked her house had eternal bad luck). Like his father, Facilier’s mother also became distant from him, even slapping him when he misbehaved. Her son had become nothing more than a business assistant to her.

But her new life and magic powers came with a steep price. It wasn’t long before she fell gravely ill. Her skin got wrinkled like a raisin and her hair straggly like old grass. She had misused her powers and the price to pay was her own life. She soon passed away to Guinee and all that was left of her was her shrunken head, which Facilier kept in his emporium. Now the young man was left to fend for himself, with only the knowledge from his mother and the hungry stares of the evil wooden spirits watching him. Despite his mother being abusive, Dr. Facilier still missed her at times.

Not long after that, Dr. Facilier formed an alliance with the dark Loa, specifically to Baron Samedi and Met Kalfu. The wealthy had insulted him and ruined his life for long enough. He also wanted to continue his mother’s legacy, doing what he did best.

Why work hard when other people could do the work for you?

He started to dress and act like Baron Samedi, hosting musical numbers and parties in his name. Grand-Mama Odie tried to reason with her grandson, warning him that getting involved with the Loa would only bring disaster. She also reminded him of the true nature of Voodoo and Hoodoo; a cultural faith based on ancestor and saint reverence. But Facilier just laughed it off, calling her an “old senile mambo.” Facilier was too far gone after being persuaded by the cunning shadows to make a deal. His own shadow (Reilicaf) took a life of its own, reflecting his true emotions and intentions. Mama Odie found peace and connection to the spirits and her snake pet in the swamp, the place she called home. Mama Odie knew that there was no point in fighting him…unless he intended to cause harm to New Orleans. (She was powerful, but she didn’t want to harm her grandson or cause further harm to others. She decided to let him learn his lesson).

(Possible Twisted Tale book “Almost There” What if Tiana made a deal with Dr. Facilier? by authors Lim, Braswell or Calonita)

(“Disney Chilled: Fiends On The Other Side” book by Vera Strange)

AU: Takes place before Princess and the Frog

Jamal, an African American boy has lived in his twin brother Malik’s shadow all his life. Malik has a fan club, and always gets chosen in science class and gym class. Jamal feels invisible…not even his parents seem to notice him. He doesn’t even enjoy his jambalaya and ice cream. One day, Malik gets a trumpet from his grandmother and Jamal gets a skull necklace with beads and feathers. She leaves him a message that the skull necklace would protect him from the shadows. Jamal misses the bus and hides from Corton and his gang of bullies behind a dumpster. He soon runs into Dr. Facilier who offers him a chance to be popular. The red eyes from the skull glow in warning, but Jamal feels compelled to walk into the emporium. Dr. Facilier presents Jamal with a tarot card showing him proudly holding a trophy. Jamal fails to notice the image of his brother cowering in the shadows. Jamal runs to leave, the voodoo dolls watching him.

Dr. Facilier torments Jamal with tarot cards, nightmares and shadows coming after him, even Jamal’s own shadow. Jamal’s grandmother appears in a dark dream, chiding him of his choice. A tarot card reading “Death” appears by his feet. The shadow man arrives to his house one night and demands the necklace in order for him to get his wish. Jamal considers offering something else valuable. With sinking guilt, Jamal steals his brother’s trumpet and gives it to Dr. Facilier. The villain laughs and vanishes.

The next morning, Jamal finds that his parents don’t remember Malik. He looks and sees pictures of himself being successful at school, instead of his brother. He is class president and has fans asking him to sign yearbooks. He soon finds out that Malik was turned into a shadow, unnoticed by anyone except him and his skater friend Riley. Malik is furious at his brother for stealing his trumpet and being so foolish. Riley says that her grandmother has the same necklace that Jamal has. She leads the group into the bayou swamp where her grandmother lives. But Dr. Facilier sends his dolls and shadows after them. They nearly get eaten by possessed alligators when Riley’s grandmother throws dust to break the spell and save them. In the house, Riley’s grandmother reveals the same necklace that Jamal has. She reveals that Dr. Facilier used to be part of a magical order with her that used magic for good. But then he became fascinated by dark magic and soon tried to stop them. His dark magic killed Jamal’s grandmother, who had hidden under dark veils and wanted to protect her children.

The dolls burst into the room. Riley and her grandmother hold them off with magic as Jamal and Malik flee. A hurricane forms above them. They enter a clearing and soon are face to face with the shadow man. Dr. Facilier’s shadow arrives and strangles the shadowy Malik. Jamal begs him to let him go but Dr. Facilier demands him to hand over the necklace. Jamal realizes, too late, that Riley and Malik had been his true friends all along. Riley’s grandmother warns that Dr. Facilier will be unstoppable if he gets the necklace. Riley steps in to help with her staff but the dolls pin her down.

Jamal realizes that if he breaks the necklace, Dr. Facilier will lose his soul. Dr. Facilier then says that if he dies, then Malik will vanish forever, as he is the only one who can reverse the curse. Malik is about to get eaten by Dr. Facilier’s shadow. Feeling pity for his brother, Jamal gives him the necklace in defeat. Dr. Faciler grins and grows taller in power, eyes red. Jamal then demands that he release Malik…only for him to become a shadow as well. Dr. Facilier laughs, saying that he didn’t promise Jamal that he would save him. A hurricane devastates New Orleans and Dr. Facilier briefly becomes a mayor, doing martial law. He is able to make decisions and plans to take over New Orleans. Jamal and Malik remain unnoticed by their parents who live a life without their children. The brothers begin to fade as Dr. Facilier laughs and says, “Now you know what it’s like to lurk in the shadows…forever!”

Mama Odie eventually breaks the spell and brings down Dr. Facilier’s rule after the city recovers from the hurricane. But Jamal, Malik, Riley and their grandmothers remain dead.

(“Princess And The Frog” by Disney)

1926

The Loa grant the witch doctor Facilier dark magic and he uses it to swindle the citizens of New Orleans for easy money. He “grants” wishes and poses as a shady businessman. Despite his magic powers, Dr. Facilier still struggled financially and wanted to seize the La Bouff fortune. He plots to use Naveen and Charlotte’s union to seize their fortune. However, if Dr. Facilier failed to properly pay the Loa back, he would lose his soul. Still, he was willing to take that risk.

At his parlor, he offers Naveen freedom while offering Lawrence a chance to live the life of a prince. He reads their Tarot cards, and Naveen fails to see the green lily pads in the background. Naveen is turned into a frog and Lawrence becomes a copy of Naveen through a talisman. Dr. Facilier planned to murder Eli “Big Daddy” La Bouff as Charlotte and the disguised Lawrence got married, the two villains would then split the money 60-40. Dr. Facilier wanted to become the most powerful man in the city.

Later on, Dr. Facilier asks for help from his “friends on the other side” after Naveen’s blood runs out from the talisman. Dr. Facilier offers the dark spirits the souls of the citizens as payment, and he soon gains an army of shadow demons to track down the heroes.

Naveen escapes and grabs the talisman, saving Big Daddy. Dr. Facilier kills Ray and creates an illusion of Tiana’s restaurant to try and persuade her. Tiana breaks free and shatters the talisman. The spirits enter the cemetery and drag Dr. Facilier to the Voodoo spirit world (Guinee) to be tormented forever.

(“Murder On The Air” by Kathy Prior 42)

(“Hazbin Hotel” by Vivziepop)

This is where the story of Dr. Facilier should end. He was a man green with envy over the lives of the rich. His desire led him down the path of evil and darkness. He almost had Tiana and New Orleans under his control, but thankfully Tiana, Naveen, Ray, the crocodile and the others saved the day.

But not many people know that Dr. Facilier wasn’t alone. In fact, there was a second Shadow Man that existed in New Orleans. But who was it?

The obvious answer would appear to be Dr. Facilier’s shadow. But that’s not the case, despite it being an actual man of shadow. The man was actually a physical man.

No, it wasn’t the Axeman either, though the other man was a serial killer…perhaps even worse than the Axeman himself.

Not only did this Shadow Man exist…he was also Dr. Facilier’s younger distant cousin.

Dr. Facilier had a father and a royal mother, Clementine. Dr. Facilier’s grandmother was Mama Odie. Mama Odie had a twin black sister named Odette, a woman of Native American descent who revered Yemaya. She was also related to Marie Laveau. Odette didn’t live as long as Odie (She lived long due to magic and genetics) but shared her feisty personality. Odette died long before the 1920s but not before she gave birth to a few children after marrying Mathis, a jazz musician. Her favorite child was a girl named Antoinette Loretta Duvalier. She followed in her footsteps, becoming a well-known Voodoo priestess and doing good deeds for the community.

Antoinette enjoyed her life, but also faced discrimination and a hard job. She was pressured to marry and meet societal expectations. To have a more stable life, she married a white French man, named Armand Louis Moreau, who was equally in love with her. Armand’s parents did not approve of the interracial marriage but Armand pledged his devotion to his wife. The couple then had a French Creole son on January 24, 1896…a boy named Alastor.

Alastor grew up in New Orleans, raised by his father and mother. As a young child, he was exposed to the wonders of the woods and secrets of the swamp. Although his family was far from rich, he was still able to live a fairly comfortable life. He had short brown hair, brown eyes and medium brown skin. He would often wear glasses, bow-ties and suspenders. Although he, too was jealous that the rich lived better off, little Alastor mostly pursued his passion for music and theater early on. He especially enjoyed all the festive holidays like Mardi Gras, All Soul’s Day, St. John’s Day, Christmas and more.

As time went on, Alastor started to be bullied by his peers for his heritage and “feminine” interests. It wasn’t uncommon for boys to throw rocks and mud at him, calling him “Chocolate Boy” or racial slurs. They would pour cold water on him, telling him to “wash off.” Playing musical instruments and doing theater were the only good parts about school. Whenever Alastor would get sad, his mother would tell him, “You’re never fully dressed without a smile.” He learned to appear happy and confident as much as possible, after all, “boys don’t cry.” Alastor and his mother were inseparable. Antoinette taught him how to make jambalaya and Creole meals, how to sew Voodoo dolls, do rituals and play music. They would dance together to the gramophone. In contrast, Armand wanted Alastor to get into more “masculine” interests like sports, hunting and girls. But Alastor wasn’t interested in anyone as he grew up. Alastor got through the days by working hard and smiling like he had no care in the world. Louis Armstrong and his mother were his lifelong role models. He was a happy, go-lucky kid who respected his ancestors and rolled along with life.

But events built up over the years that would led to a traumatic event. Armand grew tiresome of Alastor, even calling him a “mixed bastard of sin.” Armand went to church more and felt more pressure to conform from his parents. He started hitting and beating Alastor whenever he misbehaved. He would chide his wife for not having the house clean enough or for not having dinner ready. Alastor learned hunting and taxidermy from his father, and also how to shoot a gun. But aside from hunting trips in the winter, their relationship was distant and strained.

One fateful night around ten years old, Alastor caught his father hooking up with another woman behind his mother’s back. Furious, Armand stomped into Alastor’s room and proceeded to molest the little boy. Alastor’s mother came in to comfort him and wash him up, but Alastor was adverse to touch ever since. Antoinette couldn’t do anything, as Armand was the head of the household. To the delight of Armand’s parents, Armand declared his divorce to Antoinette, where he would take most of their stuff and leave Antoinette and Alastor in poverty. After beating his son, Armand was about to rape his sleeping wife to “teach that whore one more lesson.” But before he could, Alastor snapped. With shaking hands, he takes a riffle and shoots his father square in the chest. This startles Antoinette awake. Alastor quickly hides the body outside and Antoinette never knows what he did.

Alastor grew up and completed school. As a teen, he collected bugs, swam in the creek, befriended gators, hunted and hiked. He also enjoyed the Picture Show, going to as many shows as he could. He began to smoke and explore more death-related rituals and the dark Loa. His also let his dark brown hair grow long, up to his chin.

In 1912, Alastor witnesses the Titanic sinking in the newspaper. A hurricane arrives in New Orleans, but Alastor and his family rescue other people and recover. Alastor decides to let a cruel policeman drown instead of helping him.

World War One arrives and Alastor is drafted. While there, he witnesses his comrades die next to him. He is part of the team that operates radios for communication. After returning home, his interest in radios increases and he begins crafting his own.

Sadly in 1918, the Spanish Flu occurs, resulting in the death of his beloved mother. No doctors are willing to help. A heartbroken Alastor is left to bury his mother in the cemetery next to his grandmother. In a fit of rage, Alastor kills criminals at night in disguise, earning him the Vigilante title. Alastor was no longer connected to his ancestors, his Voodoo magic turning Petro red. Alastor trailed down the dark path, leading him to practice the stereotypical evil Voodoo portrayed in media. He even began placing curses and hexes on people, wearing alligator teeth on a necklace.

Soon, it was just him and a life of poverty. Alastor nearly commits suicide in 1920, but comes across Dr. Facilier at his emporium. Both of them find out they’re cousins and they pursue music, wine, cooking and dark magic together for several months. Facilier then reads Alastor’s fortune and attempts to steal what was left of his money. Facilier promises him a better life with wealth and less grief. Alastor agrees to his deal.

Met Kalfu, Baron Samedi and Furfur embed Alastor with powerful Eldritch magic to use in the afterlife should he win. (But these Loa weren’t the traditional Papa Legba, Kalfu and the others Alastor had revered in the past. These beings were pure evil.) In order to assure his powers, they tell Alastor to offer human souls to them, which he eventually does. His powers would increase, the more souls he collected. Alastor’s faith and heart breaks as he loses his connection with the genuine Loa and the saints of his youth.

Alastor offers his soul, afterlife powers and money to Dr. Facilier and the Loa if Dr. Facilier is able to achieve his goal of being wealthy and powerful. But if Facilier fails, then Alastor gains Dr. Facilier’s powers and servitude. Both men shake hands, along with their sentient shadows. There was another factor to the deal: The man who dies first would automatically lose. Alastor quickly leaves before Dr. Facilier gets any ideas.

The luck magic, coupled with hard work, enables Alastor to be a bandleader and gain fame for his work. Per agreement, Alastor gives Dr. Facilier some of his money to continue his dark work. The intrigued CBS arrive to interview Alastor about his performances in 1920. They hear of Alastor’s expertise in fixing radios and creating a crystal radio set of his own. Alastor is eventually interviewed and hired as a radio DJ in a low-class position. Playing the same songs soon got boring. Alastor didn’t put the effort into his music only to be stuck with more racism and a lower status. The higher ups were loudmouths standing in the way of his goal.

So he decides to eliminate them instead.

Alastor would soon be known as the greatest radio host in the city…and the Louisiana Lunatic serial killer. He takes great care to avoid the Axeman, and even writes a similar letter that he made, telling people to play jazz at night.

1920s

The Roaring 20s begins, the peak of Alastor’s life. He basks in wealth and fame, drinking liquor, bitter coffee, and flirting with women. He meets flapper performer Mimzy who quickly becomes his best friend. Mimzy falls in love with Alastor but he doesn’t feel the same way. They nearly have sex but Alastor refuses. Mimzy wants to marry Alastor and go on extravagant tours around the world. But Alastor prefers peace and quiet in the wilderness. Mimzy is saddened at this but they still remain close friends, performing and dancing together.

Mimzy accidentally drinks a poisoned drink set by Alastor that was meant for a womanizer rapist he was watching. He is heartbroken over his friend’s death. He doesn’t want to be tied down and he thinks his sexuality is something that is wrong with him. (The term asexuality didn’t exist and he remembers when his grandparents suggested he be put in an asylum).

During the Roaring Twenties, Alastor begins his killing spree of racist men, rapists, and criminals. He is called the Vigilante and the Louisiana Lunatic and kills his victims in various ways. Guns, knives, axes, traps, and fire were some of the many tools he used. Alastor spares women and children.

Alastor flirts with women and manipulates them because it’s fun to do. People who made deals with him often found their money stolen by him. Many women are charmed by Alastor but Alastor doesn’t get intimate with any of them. He enjoys dancing with women and being on stage. Alastor lavishes in wealth, buying new red suits and top hats, a fancy red car and a microphone cane with golden deer antlers.

On the radio, Alastor tells dad jokes (especially radio-themed ones) and describes the deaths of his victims in detail. No one suspects that he is the killer until much later. Alastor also pulls pranks on people for fun (thumbtacks, kick me signs, soap in drinks, whoopee cushions, plastic doorways). Before the end of every program, he plays his favorite song, “You’re Never Fully Dressed Without A Smile.”

1926

(The events of “Princess and the Frog” take place.)

Dr. Facilier’s shadows capture 30 year old Alastor and Dr. Facilier steals some of his stuff. Dr. Facilier mocks him and says that he’ll get to watch all of New Orleans fall. Facilier grins at the thought of being all powerful and watching the Loa steal Alastor’s soul. Alastor is shocked by the betrayal and his cruelty. Before Dr. Facilier can kill his helpless cousin, the shadows arrive with the frog Naveen. Alastor uses the distraction to escape. (Alastor couldn’t bring himself to kill his cousin). Dr. Facilier is dragged into the Voodoo spirit world by the Loa after failing to keep the talisman intact. A victorious Alastor grins as his cousin is dragged away screaming. Alastor is more than happy to announce his death on the radio.

The other Axeman’s letter:

Hell, 1929

Esteemed Mortal of New Orleans: The Louisiana Lunatic

They have never caught me and they never will. They have never seen me, for I am invisible, even as the sound waves that surround your earth. I am not a human being, but a demon from the hottest hell. I am what you Orleanians call the Louisiana Lunatic. Down here, I’m the inevitable Radio Demon.

When I see fit, I shall appear and claim other victims as I see fit. I alone know whom they shall be. No clues will be left behind, save for what you might hear on the next broadcast.

Tell the police and the racist, elite scum of the world to beware. Let them try not to discover who I am, for it’d be better for them not to have been born than to incur the wrath of the Louisiana Lunatic. You’ll have a deer in the headlights look and won’t have any idea what hit you until after it’s too late.

Undoubtedly, you Orleanians think of me as a monster and murderer. But if I wanted to hurt anyone else here, I would have done so already. If I wished, I could pay a visit to your city every night. I could kill every one of your best and worst citizens, for I am in a close relationship with the Shadows of the Other Side.

At 6:06 pm next Friday night, I am going to pass over New Orleans and then visit those in Hell. I am going to make a little proposition to you people. Here it is:

I am very fond of jazz music, electro swing, and jambalaya. I swear by all the Loas and deities that I will spare those who can provide me with some great entertainment when I visit. Word of warning, I can read you people like a book, and see into your very souls. Anyone foolish enough to challenge me will have their corpses consumed and their screams muffled by the lovely sound of jazz bands jamming the night away.

I have been, am, and will be, the worst spirit that ever existed in fact, fantasy, or the realm of Hazbins.

Smile and stay tuned!

1929

The Great Depression comes into effect as well as the Stock Market Crash of 1929. Alastor enjoys reading about the chaos in the newspaper. People frantically sell their stuff and beg for jobs and money. He also enjoys seeing the orphans suffering homeless in the streets as it reminds him of his better off status. He also finds children annoying and undisciplined, a leftover trait from his father.

But soon, things take a downward turn. Alastor begins to lose money and food, his former glory days over. Alastor hoards radios and radio furniture in his house. He grows bony thin and his eyes have bags under them. Alastor grows unhealthy due to lack of food, and (almost!) resorts to cannibalism. He also fears losing his radio audience due to the prospects of TV. He meets Russian born Vincent (Vox), an ABC broadcasting company CEO who taunts him for his race and career. They get into a fight but victorious Vox leaves, saying to him that his days are over.

Alastor becomes depressed, cutting into his skin for rituals or just to taste his own blood…to feel something. His self-inflicted cuts add to the scars on his back and body from his dad and struggling criminals.

1929

Alastor finds an abandoned baby in a dumpster and briefly takes care of her. The Japanese baby is Nerissa Nefuti, also known as Niffty. Niffty is placed in an orphanage where she gets adopted by a picture bride and her husband, who travel to their home in California.

1933

Alastor becomes more careless with his killings, and is soon discovered by police in 1933. The police sends dogs after him, a German Shepard, a Pit Bull, and a hunting Black Lab dog. As he runs, he is bitten by a rabies infected dog in an alley. Alastor races through the snowy woods, experiencing painful headaches, and hallucinations of drowning and his parents being killed as deer. The police dogs bite at his legs but he shakes him off and runs some more.

A deer hunter spots him, thinking he’s a deer at first. He is fearful and disgusted by the madman who rushes at him head on. The hunter is Vox’s friend and Vox smirks. Alastor’s insane eyes beg the hunter to finish him off, as he didn’t want to be arrested. The hunter almost shoots him but finds he can’t do it. Vox then shoots Alastor between the eyes and his body falls. (Video Killed the Radio Star). The dogs bark and maul at Alastor moments before the gunshot. The police arrive and see the hole in his forehead, his glazed eyes, bloodied clothing and frozen smile. Alastor’s body is promptly burned, his belongings destroyed and his radios given away to an antique shop. His death is announced on his own radio station by none other than Vox before it, too, is done for. Many of his fans are saddened but the majority of New Orleans is relieved that the killer is gone. Vox is hailed as a hero before he returns to his job in another state.

Think that’s the end of Alastor’s story? Think again!

(“Hazbin Hotel” by Vivziepop)

Alastor arrives in Hell and becomes a red deer-like demon with sinister red eyes. With his human memories still intact and his new powers granted to him, he soon terrorizes Hell and broadcasts his massacres on the radio. This earned him the title of the Radio Demon. His shadow (Rotsala) had a life of his own, behaving much like Dr. Facilier’s sinister shadow sidekick. Alastor also has a microphone staff that allows him to broadcast anywhere in Hell. Alastor, too has singing friends on the other side.

(Dr. Facilier eventually becomes a snake demon and Alastor’s helpless slave in Hell. The Loa in Guinee decide to further torment him by sending him to Hell’s greatest tormentor, Alastor. Dr. Facilier gets further humiliated when his younger cousin tortures him and reminds him that he now has his powers. Hence how Alastor became a “ripoff” of Dr. Facilier.)

His parents are different as well. His father Armand became Neleus, a cruel black dog demon with large antlers. (Referencing Alastor’s fear of dogs and his father) His mother Antoinette became Poena, a humanoid red doe who can travel between Heaven and Hell.

(The events of the Alastor Prequel Comic and the Hazbin Hotel Pilot Episode take place.)

Alastor strolls around Hell, flirting with Victorian women and indulging in the act of cannibalism, thanks to his mentor Rosie. Alastor protects women from evil men but also doesn’t like strong-willed women who disagree with him or break the old societal standards. He reunites with Mimzy and they share a dance. Vox becomes a ruler over television, becoming Alastor’s powerful rival. While Vox seeks power through evolution, Alastor is content to be stuck in the past. (Alastor hates Vox, not just because of their differences in technology). Vox was also Niffty’s abusive husband.

Alastor makes deals with the cleaning cyclops Niffty and the alcoholic cat demon Husk. Both of them protect Alastor and do tasks for him in exchange for safety and comfort. Everyone runs away at the sight of him, leaving him with no real companions. (He misses his mother dearly, and will do anything to reunite with her). Alastor grows to dislike people in elite authority positions, and finds it hard to express his true feelings to anyone.

Feeling bored and lonely over the decades, Alastor seeks out a new form of entertainment. Alastor knows that Vox could overpower him easily if he doesn’t seek new alliances. Alastor witnesses Charlie, the princess of Hell on TV talk about her plan to redeem sinners by opening up a hotel. It is her hope that demons can become better individuals so they can go up to Heaven and be safe from the yearly exterminations that take place in Hell. Alastor visits said hotel and offers to help. He meets Charlie’s girlfriend Vaggie, and Angel Dust, one of the hotel clients. Alastor fixes up the hotel with his magic and summons Niffty and Husk to his aid. He almost convinces Charlie to make a deal with him. Charlie instead orders him to help her out. The two share a dance before Alastor protects the hotel from another villain. Everyone knows that Alastor is up to no good, but Charlie decides to give him a chance.

So there you have it: the two Shadow Men of New Orleans were once innocent boys who each wanted freedom, love and better lives. Alas, their choices along with their circumstances made them the popular shady showmen they are to this day. Is it unknown if these men can be redeemed or if they even want to at all. The two tales merge into one, with the most disturbing message of all. We all have shadows inside of us, and sometimes it doesn’t take much for a person to turn evil. Whether it be a slimy snake in the shadows or a dancing demonic deer, one can never be too careful when dealing with the darkness.

#alastor #hazbinhotel #drfacilier #disney #voodoo

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