#also happy pride month to Freddy and Freddy alone

[tharkflark1]

It’s that time of year again where I mourn the loss of the best surprise dad in gaming history

[bekoobove]

Fazbear Frights #11: Facing Facts

...After months of unemployment, Samuel is hired for a new, decent job, although some of the conditions are a bit uncomfortable…

 How?

 How could something so painful not kill him?

 He stared into the darkness, praying for death.

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 “And remember, the rumors surrounding our establishments are just that- rumors. We here at Fazbear Entertainment pride ourselves on our advanced animatronics and delicious pizza, but we also have top-tier safety measures in place. Rest assured, families and employees alike are in good hands. Now, it’s time to begin your journey as part of the Fazbear Family!”

 The screen faded to static and the tape ejected from the VCR. Samuel sighed with relief.

 The man interviewing him returned to the room. “So, uh, what did you think of the training tape?”

 “It was...fine, I guess.” Samuel responded blandly. Truth be told, it had been the most boring half hour of life, but the guy had been bragging about him being the editor, so honesty may not be the best policy in this case. “Say, what’s your name again? I was so swept away by the video that I forgot.”

 “Oh, thank you! Graphic design is my passion. My name’s Alex, Alex Gramble. And now that that’s done with, it’s time for your first day as a Freddy Fazbear’s Pizza employee!”

 “Hooray.” Samuel said dejectedly.

 Alex smiled. “Listen, this is a small town, and news travels fast. I know why you had to come out here, and I figure that wasn’t your plan. But chin up! This job is full of opportunities.”

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 “This is a dead-end career.” Samuel lamented that evening over dinner. “It won’t get me anywhere.”

 “Well, Sammy, I've told you you don’t have to stay.” Grandpa Harry reminded him. “I’ve lived a long, happy life. I don’t want you to give up everything to keep an eye on me.”

 Samuel felt a wave of guilt wash over him. “No, Grandpa, I didn’t mean it like that. Even if no...critical events happen..you still need someone taking care of you. You were an incredible father to my dad, and an incredible grandfather to me. This is the least I could do. Besides, I needed a job anyway. Maybe it was time I settled for something more realistic.”

 “Well, Freddy’s does have those fancy new robots, right?” Grandpa Harry added, poking at his peas. “You’ve always wanted to work with stuff like that.”

 “I don’t get to lay a finger on those.” Samuel rubbed his temples. “They think I’m too inexperienced. For now, they’re just having me harvest parts from the old animatronics.”

 “Those things are still there? I saw ‘em once, they gave me the willies.”

 Samuel sipped some water, a bit nervous. “Trust me, now, they’re much worse.”

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 He wasn’t exaggerating.

 Freddy’s jaw had been pulled loose, making his once cheery grin much more sinister. Holes in his plush suit indicated the removal of parts. Foxy’s legs had been completely stripped, leaving nothing but exposed, oily metal rods. Chica was probably the worst of them, though. Her beak had been forced open, exposing her toothy endoskeleton, and her hands had been ripped off, leaving dirty wires to trail out her stiff arms.

 Samuel spent hours in this room, alone with these...things, occasionally called to remove a part. With every piece removed, they only got more disturbing.

 His walkie-talkie buzzed. Samuel sighed, then answered. “Hello?”

 Alex’s voice came over the radio. “Hey, Sam. So, Balloon Boy’s eyes are malfunctioning. They keep rolling back into his head. We think there’s something wrong with the sockets. Could you open Bonnie’s faceplate and take out his eyes for replacements?”

 “Faceplate?” Samuel inquired.

 “It’s a feature unique to him. There’s a button located on his neck. Pressing it should cause his face to retract into his head. Easy access to all that stuff, y’know.”

 Samuel was impressed. “Wow, whoever designed these animatronics must have been a genius.”

 There was a pause. “Um...yeah. They were. Anyway, get those parts. And remember, take the animatronics apart gently.”

 “You make it sound like I risk hurting them.”

  “It’s just for safety.” The line went dead.

 Samuel walked over to the Bonnie animatronic, slumped against the wall. While Chica was the outright creepiest of the gang, there was something about Bonnie that unnerved him. The only real damage was his arm, which had been ripped off for use in that plastic fox thing (A horrible use of good parts to be honest; that fox was poorly constructed, practically falling apart at the seams). Still, something about his blank stare was scary. Samuel would be glad to rid it of those eerie eyes.

 He quickly located the button and pressed it. Nothing happened.

 Samuel groaned. “We haven’t removed anything from that area. The wiring for that button should still be in place.”

 He pressed it a few more times. Still nothing

 Samuel began to get angry, and started trying to jimmy open the faceplate. “Come on, come on...stupid animatronics, I don’t want to waste the rest of my life here!”

 His anger caused him to use a little more force than he meant to, and the faceplate ripped off. Samuel fell backwards, gripping it in his hands. There was the sound of wires ripping and metal scraping. Samuel hit the checkered floor, his head banging on the hard linoleum. He struggled to push himself up, dizzy from the collison.

 “Oh, geez.” Samuel muttered, gazing at the plate. It was cracked down the middle, not to mention the damage around the edges from when it was first ripped out.

 “Well, probably not a big deal.” Samuel reasoned, setting the part aside, on a small workbench next to Chica. “These things are being scrapped anyway.”

 He quickly got to work removing the eye sockets.

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 He couldn’t taste anything.

 That may not sound that strange. He wasn’t eating a meal or chewing gum after all, so why would he?

 The thing is, while they pale in contrast to that of food, there are always flavors that we detect. From the salty taste of phlegmy spit, to even the subtle bitterness of our own breath.

 He had none of that. It was like a bizarre, mouth-centric sensory deprivation chamber. Of course, most of his other senses were being overstimulated due to how much pain he was in, so it took him a while to notice- a few hours in, at least. But it didn’t take too much muddled, bloodied thought to understand why.

 After all, his tongue was halfway across the room.

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 Have a great day, Sammy!- Grandpa Harry.

 Samuel smiled softly at the note. Grandpa seemed to have stuffed it into his toolbox, a kind little gesture from a man who’d spent his whole life making them. It was far better encouragement than the sticker Alex had given him for the box- a picture of that bright blue rabbit with exaggerated eyelashes, with the words You’re A Rockstar! written around it.

 Still, he was starting to warm up to this place, at least a little. Alex, while a bit irritating, was a kind boss, and it wasn’t too stressful around here- after all, the restaurant wasn’t open yet. He’d even brought a book today, knowing he’d have some free time.

 Whistling, he headed to his back room, and gently pushed open the door.

 He wasn’t prepared for what he saw.

 Alex had mentioned that the old animatronics might move around during the night because of minor glitches, but the door would guarantee none made it out as long as it was locked. Samuel had seen some evidence of this- their arms changing position, their heads being turned a different way, even Foxy having moved a few feet to the left once- but not like this. Bonnie was on his knees, and he held an old soldering iron in his only hand. It was frozen, held right up to his head. Said head was pressed against a wall, keeping Bonnie’s faceplate in place.

 Samuel was stunned. “Did- did that thing...try to repair itself?” he stuttered. “No, no, there’s no way. Something that advanced just isn’t possible.”

 After removing the sockets, all that had remained of Bonnie’s eyes were two small, reddish lights. Those seemed to stare at Samuel now, almost angrily.

 Samuel walked towards it, and gently pulled the plate out of its grasp. He didn’t know why- maybe just to see if the robot would snatch it back. Nothing happened.

 Samuel tucked the faceplate under Fredddy’s torso, hoping to keep it out of Bonnie’s sights.

 With that done, Samuel pulled over a stool, and sat down to read. He watched Bonnie out of the corner of his eye, daring him to move.

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 “So, how was work today?” Grandpa Harry asked as Samuel walked into the room.

 “Eh, it was...fine.” Samuel said, trying not to speak over Grandpa’s shows. He tapped his shoulder. “Hey, Grandpa, I wanted to ask you about...the incident that occurred with the animatronics last year.”

 Grandpa Harry froze, then slowly grabbed the remote and paused the show. “Uh, why do you want to know about that?”

 “I’ve heard some other employees whispering about it. I didn’t really care at first, but working with the animatronics...it’s just, they have some odd behaviors. I know the company tried to keep it quiet, but you live in Hurricane. Surely you heard something?”

 Still staring blankly at the paused TV, Grandpa began to explain. “It was a young man named Walter, just over twenty I believe. Wanted to spend some time away from the big city, and moved out here for the summer. He was such a kind boy- volunteered at the local soup kitchen, polite to everyone- even gifted me some books he’d finished reading. But that doesn’t pay the bills, so he took a job as a night-shift Security Guard at Freddy’s. Two nights went by with little incident- then on the third night, something happened, and he never came home.”

 Sniffling, Grandpa Harry grabbed a tissue from the side table and dried his eyes. “Such a kind boy…”

 Unnerved, Samuel prodded further. “But do you know what happened to him? Like, did they find his...y’know…”

 “They found his body, but the details are ‘classified’.” Grandpa Harry said bitterly. “Fazbear Entertainment putting money in the right mouths to keep them shut, yeah? But two things are very clear: those damned moldy old robots were responsible, and their handiwork wasn’t pretty. I’m glad they’re being scattered and scrapped. They won’t hurt anyone else, right, Sammy?”

 “Right.” Samuel said, clearly not confident in his answer. Grandpa didn’t pick up on that, though. He unpaused the TV, and relaxed back into his chair.

 Samuel quietly left the room.

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 He hoped the thing suffered.

 Yes, this thing- this metal abomination- would be broken apart, split into pieces. If this thing was capable of hatred, it should be capable of pain. But he wanted more.

 He wanted his blood, dripping into the machine, to cause all the circuits to malfunction. No part of the robot would ever work again. It would be smashed, crushed, and forgotten forever- made to suffer, like he was suffering now.

 When would he be free?

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 “See you tomorrow, Samuel. Um, be careful, and like I said, stay away from the animatronics.” Alex reminded him as he put on his coat.

 “Right.” Samuel muttered in response. He’d been given a night shift, since there’d been reports of vandals in the area. After hearing Grandpa Harry’s story, he’d been resistant to the idea, but Management had promised him extra pay, so he relented. And, anyway, the dangerous animatronics were behind the door, so he was safe, right?

 He hardly felt so within an hour. The sounds of whirring gears, electrical sparks, and clamping jaws began to resound from within. Samuel tried to ignore them, continuing to search the street in front for delinquents.

 Eventually, everything quieted, as if the robots had only woken briefly from their slumber to check if the door was locked. But a few minutes later, there came a new noise- the louder, heavy thudding of metallic feet.

 Samuel turned hesitantly, looking down the hall to that foreboding metal door. “It’s just a glitch.” He reminded himself with little confidence. “It’s not...fixing itself.”

 His actions showed his doubt, though. Earlier he’d been sure to remove the soldering iron from the room. Bonnie wouldn’t lay an animatronic finger on it.

 Clearly, that wasn’t enough. Banging began to resound from the room- like metal hitting concrete. The thing seemed to be trying to hammer its face back on with the wall.

 Unlike the others, this sound didn’t stop quickly. It went on for at least ten minutes. Samuel almost felt bad for it- it was just trying to fix itself, right?

 And yet, he remembered Grandpa Harry’s story again. These robotic abominations had cut a good man’s life short. They deserved whatever pain they were going through. There was nothing good in them.

 Finally, Samuel had had enough. He abandoned his post, getting up to storm down the dark hall. Taking the key out of his pocket, he shoved it into the lock and turned firmly, pushing at the same time. The door flew open and hit the adjacent wall with a THUNK!

 Sure enough, Bonnie stood nearby, looking pretty surprised that someone was stupid enough to barge in there. He backed away, moving into a position to leap at Samuel, but dropped the faceplate in the process. Samuel quickly snatched it out of the air as it fell, and slammed the door in the things lack-of-face.

 It shrieked, banging against the solid metal slab as Samuel quickly locked it again. He looked at the fuzzy purple thing in his hand, and noticed something- a small, bloody stain just below its left eyehole.

 Samuel narrowed his eyes and walked away, as Bonnie continued to rage behind him. He ran into the kitchen, turned on one of the ovens, and tossed the faceplate inside.

 The faux fur quickly caught flame, and the rest of the piece quickly followed. All the while, Bonnie was screaming louder, banging harder against the door-

 The faceplate was completely engulfed in fire, and Bonnie fell silent.

 Samuel turned nervously as he shut off the oven. Hesitantly, he returned to the door and knocked, eliciting no response.

 “Uh, Bonnie?” Samuel called out. The silence was far worse than any mechanical scream or furious banging.

 He put the key back in and opened the door slowly. Peeking inside, he saw all the animatronics were still in their proper places, but Bonnie was nowhere to be seen.

 From his left, Samuel heard mechanical shifting. He tried to pull back, but it was too late.

 A rough, bare animatronic hand grabbed him by the face. He felt the sharp metallic parts scratching his nose. Bonnie’s finger jabbed him in the eye. He screamed with pain, hoping someone would hear and come and to help him, unlikely as that was.

 The robot’s grip grew tighter, its claws beginning to break through the skin. It slammed him against the wall, putting its weight against his body, and pulled on his face.

 It used more strength than any cheap pizzeria animatronic should have. From inside his own head, Samuel could hear bone cracking, blood rushing, and tissue snapping. Finally, with one horrible CRUNCH, his skull was ripped loose from his head.

 Samuel should have died at that moment- but he didn’t. His mind, his soul- remained trapped in his skull. He watched his body fall down limply, his jaw hanging loosely as blood cascaded down his neck.

 He looked up at Bonnie, holding his head in its hand. Bonnie tilted his own faceless head, studying the mess of bone and flesh he held.

 After a moment, it slammed the skull into its empty head. Samuel felt sharp crossbeams penetrate his brain, and screamed with agony- or tried at least, lacking a mouth and all.

 Seemingly satisfied with the replacement, the robot collapsed against the wall again, forcing Samuel to stare at his own mutilated form several feet away.

 How long would it keep him alive?

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 Several hours passed, every moment of them agonizing. Samuel’s soul, trapped with his disembodied head, begged- to Bonnie or a higher power, he wasn’t quite sure- to put an end to his suffering.

 It did eventually.

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 Harry sat on his porch in a rocking chair, slowly swinging back and forth as he sipped a cup of tea. This was how he’d spent all his mornings since he retired- here in his house on the outskirts of town, watching the sun rise.

 It had been better when his love Margaret was still around though. She’d passed on a decade ago, leaving Harry all alone. His family visited, of course, but his house was empty most of the time.

 Samuel was a blessing. One he felt guilty for having- Samuel had a life of his own to lead, after all. Still, Harry had felt more alive in the week Sammy had been here than he had for years.

 He frowned, and checked his watch. 6:57 AM. Samuel had promised he’d be back no later than 6:45. Was the traffic in town that bad?

 “Oh, well.” Harry chuckled. “I’m old, I’ve got nothing better to do but wait.” He gazed out the road, hoping to see Sammy’s car driving towards him any second.

 He waited for quite a while.

[sickly-sweet-imagines]

Hiiiiiiii how are you? I had an idea for pride month

Male reader having a coming out party at the security breach area and no one showing up and the animatronics comforting him? Preferably Montgomery Gator and Glamrock Freddy, but also some lesbian Roxanne Wolf?

❤️❤️❤️

AWWWWW OH I LOVE THIS IDEA 🥺🥺🥺 I feel like what I wrote wound up a little more generic than I wanted, but I hope you still like it!

And I’m doing good! Thank you for asking 💞

– – – – –

Oh, well, this was embarrassing

You hadn’t invited that many people, but it still felt bad to see nobody show up

Ouch

During a break in performances in the mall, you see one of the animatronics approaching you

That’s right, they’re free roaming outside of performance hours

You were expecting to be told off for sitting at an empty table and taking up party space...

“Are you alone?”

You blink a few times at Freddy before nodding

“You are not a child, but... I will keep you company” He sits beside you

It makes you feel better to have someone there

You have a soft conversation with him about how you were feeling

He was sweet to you, telling you that it was okay and that he would stay with you

And suddenly you have Monty and Roxanne sitting with you too

Freddy must’ve sent out some signal to the other animatronics that you were alone

You explain to them that it was meant to be a coming out party and (only... Half surprisingly) nobody showed up

God, it felt embarrassing to say that

They seem happy to spend time with you, though- the next concert was later in the day, so they were content to sit with you and comfort you for a while

Your conversation wound up getting more personal than you realized, starting to talk about your identity

It just started spilling out before you had a chance to stop it

Maybe you had more thoughts and feelings built up than you thought

You kinda braced yourself for impact when you realized how much you’d been saying, unsure of how they’d react

But, to your surprise they were overwhelmingly supportive of you

They all found ways to relate to what you were saying, telling you about their own thoughts and feelings to connect with you

It was... Really comforting

Hearing them tell you such kind things and relate to you like this was... A relief, in a lot of ways

You heard all kinds of “I care about you” and “I’m the same way, you know” and “don’t feel guilty” type comments and it was unbelievably refreshing

Roxanne even showed you some pictures of her and Chica to help you feel better

On your way out, you heard Freddy telling you that you would be welcome here again if you needed somewhere to go

You smile as you walk into the parking lot

[chickenmcstucky]

FIRST OFF YOUR REVAMP OF YOUR BLOG?!?! *chef’s kiss* 😭😭😭 second... 👉👈 if you’re able to do requests 👉👈 can I request 40s!bucky advancing with reader on a date? Maybe before he gets shipped out? 👉👈 you can do whatever you want with it! Thank you for reading this AND I CAN’T WAIT FOR WHATS TO COME FROM YOU

ROSEEEEEEE you are my heart omg <3 seriously none of this would be happening without you. I did a little headcanon-style thing for this, I hope that’s okay and that you like it!! Also this got really long, its basically a full length fic in bullet point form lol

So because I love a soft, sweet Bucky, it starts like this -

You were on a first date with some guy your mother had set you up with, seeing as his mother and your mother were friendly

At first you were excited, you’d never really talked to him much but he was handsome and you thought maybe it could go somewhere

All your girlfriends were always going on dates and having a good time, while you usually preferred to stay in with a good book, and to be honest you’d never gotten as much interest from fellas as them but that was alright, you were happy as you were

So there you were, out on the first date with Freddie Jameson, and from the start it was...less than great

He picked you up late, didn’t even compliment your dress, did none of the things your girlfriends were always gushing over guys for doing

On your way to the cinema, he was absolutely talking your ear off about some stupid argument he had with some guys down at the docks where he did the books

You couldn’t get a word in edgewise, but honestly you didn’t wanna talk anyways because this guy was just not who you expected or wanted...some big macho guy obsessed with his reputation and single-minded to the point of barely paying attention to you? No thanks. You knew your worth

You were determined to push through the date, hopeful to a fault, so when you arrived to the cinema and he let you pick the film, you were surprised, but picked the new sci-fi film The Invisible Woman

From the way Freddie scoffed at this, and grudgingly bought the tickets, acting like it was an inconvenience, you should’ve known things would only get worse, but on into the theater you went

When Freddie realized the story revolved around a woman - one getting comedic revenge on her boss, no less - he gave you some choice words about how you were forcing this new-age mess on him, how he didn’t really wanna take you out anyways but had been “kind” enough to give you a chance, this that and the other thing until you were in tears and your face was so hot you were sure the temperature in the theater had raised a few degrees

When someone in the theater finally spoke up, it wasn’t even to defend you, but to tell you two to take it the heck outside and stop interrupting

Freddie stomped right out, and with your only other option being to cower in the theater, alone, for the rest of the film, you left too

By the time you made it outside, Freddie was long gone, and you barely managed to slink around the corner to the back alley before the tears started falling in earnest

Just your luck to finally go on a date, and get left in the lurch and embarrassed in front of a whole theater of strangers

As you stood against the brick wall in the darkness of the warm night, you tried to calm yourself down enough to catch the streetcar back home so you could sulk in the privacy of your own room

Suddenly you heard two male voices and your head jerked up because you really didn’t need more humiliation - or worse, danger - right now

But when you saw the two men come around the corner, you relaxed seeing it was none other than Bucky Barnes and little Steve Rogers, and you knew they wouldn’t cause you trouble, Bucky was an Army man after all, just back from basic training

You’d never really interacted with them except as children, knowing Steve could be a real spitfire and Bucky a sweet flirt, but they were good men without poor reputations relating to ladies

Still, you rather hoped they’d just pass on by you without noticing, because really, you’d had enough for the night

Just your luck, though, Steve noticed - he must’ve known how it felt to be sulking, defeated, in an alleyway and sensed your struggle

As you made eye contact with him, you saw him nudge Bucky, who had yet to notice, and gesture towards you, the two of them still a fair distance from you

They immediately turned course and walked right towards you, as you just stood there blinking like a deer in headlights, unsure how to act and stuck between embarrassment for your state and hope that maybe you could at least ask them to accompany you to the streetcar stop so you didn’t have to go alone in the dark

“Uh, you alright there?” Steve spoke first as they came to a stop in front of you, scuffing his foot against the dusty pavement as Bucky took in your appearance, you feeling his eyes run over you from head to toe

You sniffled, unsure what to say and not wanting to reveal to them the humiliation you’d suffered - though you knew Freddie had been a real jerk, it was your pride that would suffer the more people knew what had happened

Then a smooth, sweet voice broke the silence, “did something happen, doll? What’s a nice dame like you doing alone in some back alley at night, huh?”

Something about the softness in his voice enveloped you in safety, and you couldn’t help but blurt the truth, “oh, it’s just awful, I was meant to be on a date with Freddie Jameson and he was so coarse and he just humiliated me in front of everyone and then just left,” your voice broke on the last word as the tears threatened again

When you raised your head back up, you saw a cold look of anger come over both mens’ faces, “that Freddie ain’t nothing but a jerk,” Bucky harrumphed, and Steve nodded ferociously, a look of determination coming over his face

“Somebody oughta teach him a lesson, that ain’t no way to treat a dame,” Steve growled, and before you or Bucky could protest, he stalked off, presumably in search of Freddie; you never forgot how once in grade school he’d punched a boy for pulling your hair, he hadn’t changed at all of course

You couldn’t help but laugh, knowing he’d show up tomorrow with a split lip and a black eye, but endeared by his passion in defending you

At your own giggle, Bucky’s handsome face broke out in a soft smile, as you shared a moment of reprieve from your upset

“I’m real sorry, doll, you didn’t deserve to be treated like that - Freddie don’t know what he’s missin, alright?” he spoke gently, and you couldn’t help but believe he meant it, seeing something in his eyes that gave you sweet pause

“I guess I know that, it’s just - I never - finally a date and it goes like this,” you scoffed, shrugging

“You never had a date before, doll?” you were surprised to see some genuine shock on his face

“Well, not never, I mean, just nothin serious now that I’m out of school and all, I guess…” you trailed off - here you were admitting to one of the handsomest GIs around that you didn’t have dates every Friday night like the other girls

“Well, we’re gonna have to fix that,” Bucky’s head tilted up, as if daring you to protest, a confident expression on his young face

“Oh, can’t I just go home, Bucky? I don’t wanna see Freddie again,” you kept the whine out of your voice, but just barely, thinking he was gonna find Steve and Freddie and force Freddie to finish your date

“I, uh, I meant - well, how bout I accompany you home, pretty girl like you shouldn’t have to walk around alone,” he insisted, but the slight pinkness on his face confused you, soon realizing perhaps you’d misunderstood his statement

Relief washed over you, though the sting of Freddie’s actions was still fresh, you were glad to not have to journey home alone; explaining to your mother why you were home so early was going to be bad enough as it was

“Gee, Bucky, that’s so kind of you,” you smiled, and he offered you the crook of his arm

“You’re over at Sycamore, right?” he inquired, and you realized perhaps he had paid you more attention over the years than you’d noticed, as you nodded yes

Gently, you wrapped your arm around his elbow, the soft fabric of his handsome uniform rubbing against your bare skin, and with your manicured fingers pressed against his forearm, something so right seemed to click into place, an unfamiliar yet not unwelcome feeling

As he walked you down the avenue, you were at first quiet, still unsure how to start a conversation with someone who had found you in such a state and who was being so kind

But Bucky, ever the ladies’ man, kept the conversation going, and as he talked about the upcoming Stark expo after he saw your eyes draw to the colorful advertisement for it on the front of the ice cream parlor

you were struck by the fact that you and Bucky really shared similar interests - innovation, sci-fi, adventure...soon you found yourself enthusiastically talking to him about all your favorite adventure books and how you hoped to see Stark himself present at the expo when it opened next month

Before you knew it, you were in front of your family’s apartment building; you hadn’t even realized Bucky had skipped the streetcar and walked you all the way home

You were struck by how much you wished the walk was longer, or that you could linger outside, but you already felt like Bucky had done enough for you and you knew you should go inside and face the music, get it over with

You slowly pulled your arm from its perch on Bucky’s, but before you could pull away fully, he caught your soft hand in his larger one as he gazed into your eyes

“Well, guess you’re home safe now, doll, it was real nice talking to ya,” he laughed a little, but he didn’t release his grasp on your hand

“That was the most fun I’ve had in a long while,” you laughed at yourself, “tonight wasn’t so bad after all,” you smiled at him and squeezed his hand, his reticence to leave giving you courage as you flirted

“Thank you again, Bucky, you really didn’t have to do this but I’m so grateful,” the earnestness in your voice shocked even you; he had really saved you from taking the streetcar alone, and had chased your upset mood right away with his boyish passion in your conversation

“My pleasure, honey. Listen, I know you might not wanna after such a bad experience, but hows about I take you on a proper date sometime? I’d really like to get to know you more, and besides, someone oughta show you what Freddie failed at,” your heart thumped at the offer and the prospect of someone like him wanting you

You were still scared though, what if it was just pity that had led him to talk you home and ask you out? What if the date went just as badly, and it turned out you were the problem, and not Freddie?

You realized your silence after his question had stretched out an uncomfortable amount as you saw his sheepish look, his hand reaching up to rub the back of his neck nervously

Before he got the wrong idea, you finally found your voice, “I’d like that,” you said simply, shyness overcoming you once again

“Next Friday then, is it alright if I come pick you up? Say, around 7? We’ll have a real nice time, I’ll make sure, you deserve it doll,” Bucky was speaking so fast you couldn’t get a word in, but his charming nervousness was too cute

“Friday at seven,” you nodded, as he gave your hand one last squeeze before letting go of it

The whole week you were on edge, teetering between nerves and excitement at the prospect of your date, you were still so surprised at your luck that such a bad night could turn out so well, and that the handsome Bucky Barnes was so similar to you

Of course, in the back of your mind you knew he’d surely be shipping out soon, but all your girlfriends were dealing with that too, and you pushed the thought away, wanting to just enjoy the time you had

True to his word, Bucky knocked on your door right at 7, your father answering the door as you were still in your room finishing getting ready with your mother

You heard their voices down the hallway as Bucky introduced himself respectfully to your father; he really did seem like such a gentleman

Your mother put the finishing touches on your updo and sent you out to the living room to face your date

As you came into the room, your eyes went straight to Bucky, looking so dapper in his uniform - you loved that all the boys yet to ship out were required to wear their dress uniform while they were out, it was just so romantic

You saw a small bouquet of flowers in his hand and smiled shyly as you crossed over to him, taking the bouquet from his offering hands and thanking him kindly for the gesture

You went to hand the bouquet to your mother to put in a vase, but Bucky reached out and grabbed a single bloom first, tucking it into your pinned hair

“You look beautiful tonight,” he complimented you; you thought your mother might faint from excitement but you just looked down at your feet, a small smile gracing your face

“Thank you, Bucky, you’re very kind. Shall we?” you gestured towards the door and he led you towards it, his hand at the small of your back as your parents looked on

In contrast to his talkativeness from the previous week, Bucky was quiet at first as he walked you towards the main avenue, but it was a comfortable silence

“Oh!” he exclaimed suddenly, as though just then realizing where he was and what he was doing, “Jeez, look at me, said I’d take you on a proper date and I ain’t even held your hand,” he shook his head at himself and offered you his calloused hand, which you took gratefully

You found his sudden nervousness endearing, but it was soon gone as comfortable conversation began to flow; he asked about your week and didn’t seem to mind when you talked about your trip to the hair salon and the new dress your mother was having made for you, instead he was hanging on your every word like you were a new adventure book

To him, you truly were a new adventure, he’d talk about anything you wanted as long as he got to be with you

You talked with him about anything and everything as you made your way to your destination, him even joking to you about Steve’s rather unsuccessful attempt to defend your honor to Freddie, but you realized he never actually told you where you were going

“So,” you lilted at him, “where does a fella like you take a girl like me on a ‘proper date’ then?” you queried him, laughter in your voice because this was truly so fun, you’d be happy to just walk around talking all night

“Oh, I can’t tell ya just yet, sweetheart, it’s a surprise,” he winked at you and your knees went weak

Soon, though, you arrived at a cinema, not the same one as your disastrous date with Freddie thankfully

As Bucky walked you up to the ticket booth, you were excited to see what he’d choose

“Two tickets for the special showing, please,” he said to the boy in the booth as he handed over the dollar

Of course, he was expected to pay, but the way he was so confident in asking for the tickets and had the money ready made you feel like he was so glad to do it, honored, even

Bucky took the two tickets and steered you into the theater, but not before you saw the sign for the special event posted just at the door, they were projecting a special film about space onto the ceiling of the cinema - one of those planetarium experiences!

You couldn’t contain yourself, “Oh Bucky, wow! “A Journey through the Stars,” you read from the poster, “oh wow,” you repeated

“I hoped you’d like it,” Bucky said shyly, “let’s go on in, I want to get you a good seat”

The whole film, you were just enraptured by the narrator talking about cosmos and black holes, whole new solar systems

But Bucky was barely paying attention, his gaze drifting to your awed face

Sometimes you felt his eyes on you and you’d glance over, shy, but he’d look away just quick enough that you couldn’t be sure he was looking at you

As you walked out of the theater, he gently put his arm around you, and you reached up and grabbed his hand to keep it there; you felt so at home with him

“Bucky that was amazing, thank you!” you gushed as he led you down the street

“I’m real glad you liked it, doll,” he answered, “how about an ice cream?”

You were happy for the chance to extend the evening, not ready to leave his company

He took you to the same parlor you’d passed the previous week, even holding the door for you and helping you up onto a stool at the counter

“Oh, there are so many choices, I’m not even sure what I want,” you laughed, your eyes scanning the flavors on the blackboard on the wall

“Well, pick your top two, and I’ll get one and you get the other, and we can share!” he babbled, “I mean, if you want, that is…” he trailed off, but you just smiled

You picked classic vanilla, and cookies and cream to be adventurous, and he ordered for the both of you

You laughed and talked the rest of the evening, until finally the old man who ran the shop had to shoo you out so he could close

A little embarrassed at how you’d let the time get away from you, you hesitated on the sidewalk before Bucky offered you his arm again, and you took it, confidently this time

It being fairly late, he took you home via the streetcar this time, wanting to get you home at an appropriate hour so as to stay in your father’s good graces

It was still friday, though, no matter how late, so the car was rather crowded; he led you to the side of the car and grasped the bar running the length of the ceiling with one hand, wrapping your arms around his waist with his other hand so you didn’t have to reach up; once you were secured, he gently wrapped his free arm around your shoulders

Taking his lead, you rested your head in the crook of his neck as the car took you to your stop

The two of you were quiet, basking in the sweet comfort of each other; you kept thinking how right this all felt, and it seemed like something like hope had taken hold in your heart

The car lurched to a halt at your stop and Bucky’s arm tightened around you, keeping you steady, before he guided you onto the street and up the block to your building

You stood in the same place as a week ago, yet so much had changed; it was just one date, but there was a spark between you glowing bright

Slowly, Bucky took your hand, and you stepped closer to him as his thumb rubbed against your hand

“I guess it’s time to say goodnight then,” he spoke, regret coloring his tone

“I had a wonderful time, Bucky, thank you. First dates don’t seem so scary now,” you laughed, “thanks for doing this for me.”

“Happy to, but doll, I didn’t just take you out because of what happened. I just wanted to be with you, get to know you. I sure am glad we found you in that alley, I barely know you but...you’re changing my life, honey”

The adoration and conviction in his voice choked you up, no one had ever made you feel so seen, so wanted

“Oh Bucky, I feel it too, it’s so -” you shook your head, unsure how to vocalize the soaring feeling in your heart

“It feels like...coming home,” he whispered to you, his forehead leaning against yours in a lover’s confession

Instead of replying, you coasted on the wave of feeling that took over you, and kissed him softly, the taste of the ice cream still on his lips

Both your eyes fluttered shut as the simple kiss drove all other thought from your heads

He pulled away first, raising his hand to caress your cheek as he smiled softly, his eyes tearing away from your lips to meet your own sweet gaze

“So,” his kind cockiness returning, “next Friday?” he asked, his head tilting jauntily as he winked at you

“Next Friday,” you returned, your heart swelling

With a final kiss to your knuckles, he opened the door into your building for you, tipping his hat

You finally had a reason to be happy for Friday nights, a handsome fella to offer you his arm

And Bucky had a home to return to; no matter where the Army took him, he had the home you made for him in your heart

[1ddotdhq]

💀Wed 28 Oct ‘20🏡

Zayn is back, Louis has pink hoodies (sort of), Liam is tik tokking like a pro, Harry feeds fish, Simon Cowell’s surgery recovery has stalled and is going poorly (great! couldn’t have happened to a more deserving human), but we’ve got too much real news to waste anymore time on that asshole! 

We ended last night with ZAYN SINGING TO US!! Beautiful black and white footage of beautiful Zayn and his perfect voice; he shows us little snippets of himself crooning James Bay's Hold Back the River and Paolo Nutini's Last Request (not for the first time on this one, he did this song before in the lead up to Icarus Falls... more on that in a minute) while reading lyrics off his phone, captioned 'Cover Sessions.' Good god but I have missed his ethereal warbling! The post alone is an unexpected blessing and a gift but the implied promise of more to come?? YES PLEASE I CANNOT WAIT. Some wonder if it could be for a Spotify Sessions, others are screaming about how Icarus Falls' drop was preceded by weeks of black and white cover song videos on instagram (when asked at that time if he was releasing something he said “yes why else do you think I'd be on here singing for you??” LOL, adore this man, but also, hello!) Anyway yesterday we got not only music and the promise of more to come, but also interaction! He chatted in comments, offering a coy 'maybe' to a comment saying 'acoustic', posting laugh cry emojis at his own jokes (“no YOU stop”), and sending love back to his happy zquad, who were of course overwhelmed and over the moon. He's cut his hair off but with all he's given us today can we be sad? It's a small price to pay. James Bay reposted the cover of his song-- ��nice one man x.”

Then, Louis officially dropped his Kill My Mind Lyric drop (on the 28th!!!):  the lyric being represented is “the devil in my brain”, and it is indeed a skull with a tophat over a cauldron. The new stuff features the cute little logo embroidered on various black cold weather wear items (including a sweater!) and says 'lyric drop 2' inside the collar of the shirts. BUT! There’s more! We’ve got some more wavy walls hoodies in pink lettering, as well as fuzzy red lettering and a marble red and pink design. Love it! However, it was discovered that this new merch does not ship to India or LATAM (except Costa Rica) and honestly?? RUDE!! Louis’ LATAM fans are the FUCKING BEST (no I’m not biased wdym???). They do, however, ship to Vatican City for some reason so catch the Pope in his Walls merch! Louis did respond to this issue on twitter, though, and said, “I’ll get more info on this ASAP. Anywhere else?” so dioceses all over the world will soon be able to rock out in their KMM merch. Celebtm also came back for round three to tell everyone that they were removing themselves from the narrative until January (good riddance), but not before leaving a message from Michael Straus (ugh) to Louis and his “son” (the quote marks are theirs, not mine, in case you’re wondering where they stand on the issue). Straus’ last hurrah included claims that Briana gets a direct deposit from Louis (or his team) on the first of every month, spends it all immediately and is left destitute for the rest of the month, and that neither Briana nor Freddie have health insurance. He then offered to help Louis get custody of Freddie. Um, right. I’m sure his help would be invaluable. Also, we all agree that he’s a liar and likely doesn’t know shit and is trying to make himself seem like the hero instead of the gross misogynist he is right? 

A story was also released about Harry’s car breaking down in the UK over the summer. He did what anyone would do (I suppose?) and knocked on someone’s door to see if they could help. Well, it turns out their daughter is a fan, so they invited him in for a cup of tea, and allowed him to snoop around her room. They even took a picture of him feeding her goldfish! The photographer who took the picture is (coincidentally?) a professional, who has worked with Kasey Musgraves before. The fan did not get to meet him, but he signed her album, and left her a note promising to meet her at a concert, which he would be inviting them to. Harry has done some other cool things in the last few days (being politically active IS cool), and has started filming DWD in Palm Springs. He was spotted by a fan (though no pictures were released) and he signed her phone cover - it reads “Golden” with a little heart. 

Harry also ignited discourse by *shuffles papers,scratches head in confusion* his endorsement of Joe Biden? Well, there were a few layers to this condemnation. The first were the people who... thought he might be a Trump supporter and were disappointed that he was not? Well, uh, clearly they have not been paying close attention, because this man has been seen this year in a BLM rally, has shouted “fuck Boris, fuck the government”, and has waved multiple different pride flags (including the trans flag!) at his concerts. IDK how that screamed Trump supporter to some people. And then there were the people who were angry that he captioned the tweet “I would vote with kindness”. The words I have seen thrown around are “disingenuous” “privileged” and “this is not enough.” Well! Harry has often been criticized for encouraging fans to simply “vote” without talking specifics; now he's endorsed a candidate, just as requested! And while no one actually LIKES Biden there is no question (in any world except absurd fandom wank circles) that this endorsement is the correct one out of the viable candidates. He is not saying that Biden is himself kind, which yes would be weird, he is saying that voting for Biden is the kinder choice and you know what? He is correct. If you think that we at 1ddotd are gonna condemn him for taking a stance against a fascist, uh, THINK AGAIN!

It was confirmed that Liam’s mystery collab is Dixie D’Amelio, of tik tok fame, and I’m going to refrain from commenting until I hear the song! Liam continues to lean into both Christmas and Halloween by doing his spooky tik toks and NOT putting jump scare warnings in ANY OF THEM, thanks so much for that one Liam, love it loads! His fun, spooky, dorky ones (in full AWESOME looking makeup thanks to MUA Abby Roberts who’s quickly becoming a regular) are amazing though, and I will miss it when Halloween is over. And Niall was on the Elvis Duran show, mid-golf game with his cousin actually, to talk about them about his concert, the venue, the cause (calling his crew “like family”), and calling out the government (go Niall!)! He ALSO took to twitter and said, “I wish I could vote”. He would also not be voting for Trump, in case anyone actually needs that spelled out.

[durmstrange]

Sweet Treat - George Weasley

Welcome back! This blurb is quite cute and I love it and coffee so much.  gif is not mine :)

Enjoy!

word count: 2,456

It had become rather quiet and secluded as you sat in one of the last shops in Diagon Alley.  All that seemed to be left was the Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes, Gringott’s, and the Leaky Cauldron, which tended to be full of questionable folks.  You didn’t mind this, though, because it was the only place you had to live at the moment.  Death Eaters ravished your home a month and a half ago, and took your belongings when you were not home, before setting fire to the homestead, leaving you and your cat, Lillian, homeless.  

Thankfully, the Leaky Cauldron allowed pets, because you would be heartbroken without your precious Lillian.  You were previously working at the Ministry, long before it had fallen, but now, you found yourself without a job and with no income.  All you had to your name was your parents’ inheritance and the cat you loved dearly.  Your inheritance was locked away at Gringotts and you had too much pride to dip into it too much.  Even clothes were currently sparse for you, given you only had three outfits left from the fire.  

Sadly, you sipped the coffee the Leaky Cauldron supplied for you and stared down at the rough wood table.  You felt so defeated and alone.  You knew the people you considered to be your closest friends were just up the road, running a successful business despite what was going on in the world, and you knew they were probably worried senseless about you, but you had too much pride and hurt in your life to run to them for help.  

Perhaps you’d flee the country all together, and set up your new home somewhere else.  Get a job and work for the rest of your life, away from all of the darkness.  The options were endless and all seemed so bleak compared to the life you used to have.  You were lost in your thoughts when he came in.  You were thinking about perhaps buying an apartment somewhere in London, or even in Ireland.  A small, sad smile formed on your face as you stirred your coffee with the sugar stick lazily, waiting for all the sugar to dissolve in your hot coffee.  Your time focused on where you could go to escape persecution of the Death Eaters that were gaining control of the wizarding war.  

Your thoughts were interrupted by a small, chocolate-covered pastry being set down in front of you.  You glanced up quickly, meeting the familiar hazel eyes you missed for the last few weeks.  “Sweet treat for your thoughts?”  George Weasley asked you as he sat down across from you with a coffee and a similar treat.  His face was confused and hurt, something that made you feel oddly guilty.

Nonetheless, a small smile formed on your face.  “George.  It’s wonderful to see you again,” you told him and held your hand out, face up.  He placed his in yours and squeezed it gently, his eyes twinkling despite the horrible happenings in the world.  

“(Y/N),”  your friend greeted you.  Fred, George, and yourself used to be friends when you were all in school.  Once Fred and George left, you stayed in contact with them and even helped set up the shop, but you had come around less and less before your home was attacked.  “Why haven’t we heard from you?  Fred and I have been so worried, and when we went to your home-” he began, but your soft voice cut him off.  

“It had been burned by Death Eaters,” you murmured and glanced around the two of you.  Instinctively, you both leaned in to keep the conversation private.  “I’ve been in a low place since then, if I do say so myself, given that I’m muggleborn and all.  Also, staying here does not exactly lift one’s spirits.”  A crooked smile formed on your face at the joke, but George frowned and squeezed your hand gently.  

“You are staying here?”  He asked you quietly, and you never saw a more worried look on his face.  He was always more compassionate and sensitive than Fred, but at this moment, he was absolutely worried for you.  

Slowly, you nodded.  “Just Lillian and I,” you confirmed and stared at your coffee.  The concern he had for you was sweet, but you had avoided asking for help for a reason.   You didn’t need pity.  

For a moment, George was quiet, which was quite unusual for him.  He glanced around him once more and leaned in even closer.  “Come stay with Fred and I.  You will be safe with us, (Y/N), I promise you that,” he insisted to you with bright and wild eyes.  He had an idea in his head, and you were curious to know what it was.

Your mouth fell open slightly, and quickly, you shook your head in fear.  “Oh, no, I couldn’t.  I’m fine here, really.  I plan on leaving soon, anyways.  As soon as I can find somewhere to go.”  Your face reddened to rosy cheeks.  You were moderately embarrassed by his offer, given your current weak state.  It was out of pity.  

George’s eyes were wide with excitement.  “I insist.  It will be just like old times.  You could even help us out with the shop like before.  We could always use it,” he continued as your face simply reddened by the second.  

“George, I-” you began as you picked at the sweet treat he brought you.  You were flushed, and quite embarrassed, but his smile shown through all of it.  

“Shut your mouth and just agree already, (Y/N),” he interrupted and reached across the rickety old table, taking your hand and squeezing it softly.  The contact he made was so gentle and so warm, that your heart craved more.  

You sighed heavily, but squeezed his hand in return.  “All right,” you mumbled and tucked your hair behind your ear with your free hand.  

George jumped up, almost spilling what was left of his coffee, and beamed at you.  “Wonderful!  Let’s gather your things and move you and Lillian in, yeah?”  He offered you his hand.  Quickly, you finished your coffee and wrapped the pastry in a napkin, putting it in the pocket of your large jacket.  

You stood, taking George’s out stretch hand, and smiled softly.  You nodded in agreement and led him towards your room.  

~.~

With your rucksack on your shoulder and George carrying Lillian, his other lost friend, the two of you moved quickly towards Weasley’s Wizard Wheezes.  George was talking on and on about the shop and how nice it has been to own it and sell the products they developed themselves, and you had never been so proud of him and Fred.  He spoke so quickly as he held your hand tightly, pulling you towards the colorful building, and kept glancing at you with bright smiles.  

Your heart melted at the sight of him so happy, and you never realized how much you missed how he made you feel every day of your life.  George was your everything for so long, and now it has been a little less than a month and a half since you laid eyes upon his sweet smile.  The feelings you had for him sparked once more, and now they were greater than ever.  You were unsure how you spent so much time alone.  

With George’s warm hand wrapped tightly around yours, you have never felt so safe.  

It felt like such a short distance before you were enveloped with the beautiful but empty shop and bright lights belonging to Fred and George’s works of art.  Granted, you had been in it since it opened, but it was much more magnificent than ever.  Your mouth fell open as you slowed to stop.  George stopped as well, confused, as he glanced back at you.  A small, warm smile formed on his face as he watched you gawk at everything around you.  “Wonderful, isn’t it?”  He asked you proudly.  

All you could muster was a simple nod as your mouth remained open, gazing at the tall ceilings stocked full of products and gadgets the same.  George led you up the crooked and turning stairs to the loft upstairs, where you were greeted by the other redhead you didn’t realize you missed so much.  “Freddie, look what the cat dragged in,” George announced loudly and stepped to the side, revealing you as you stepped in the door and smiled lightly.  

“(Y/N)!”  Fred exclaimed as he enveloped you into a tight hug, squeezing you as tight as ever.  He glanced at George as he set Lillian down.  “Quite seems as if you dragged the cat in, actually,” he teased his brother with a wink and let go of you and set you flat on your feet.  He looked back to you with blazoned eyes.  “Do you realize the worry you have caused?  Mum has been sick thinking about you!  We thought you died,” he scolded and pressed a quick kiss to your cheek.  

You smiled softly and giggled quietly at his actions, a sound that was so foreign before today.  “I’ve missed you too, Fred,” you told him and glanced back at George, who was watching happily.  “I was worried I was going to be caught, you see.  I’ll have to tell Molly how truly sorry I am for causing worry.”  Your cheeks were reddened as you ducked your head.  

George walked forward, wrapping his arm around you and pulling you to his side.  “Our lovely friend here will be staying with us, seeing as how we saw her home’s condition ourselves,” he explained to his brother without skipping a beat, who smiled widely.  

“If you don’t mind, of course,” you added with an embarrassed and flustered smile.  

Fred nodded.  “Of course, moppet.  Anything for you.”  Fred’s voice was reassuring and gentle as he checked his watch.  “I’m going to go open shop.  George, help her settle in, yeah?”  Fred suggested with a wink, causing you to smile softly.  

George flushed.  “Still on that, are we?”  He asked his twin as he began to head down the stairs.  Fred often teased you and George that you were secretly in love and refused to tell anyone.  It had been so long since he joked about that.  “Sorry about that.”  George’s voice was uneven and a blush formed on his cheeks as he glanced at you and began walking down a hallway.  

You followed with a quirky smile on your face.  “Why?  Embarrassed that you used to fancy me?”  You asked him boldly and George reddened further.  

“No, of course not!”  He defended quickly.  “More embarrassed by the fact that you never fancied me back,” he muttered and opened a door for you, showing you a bland guest room.  You were surprised how plain it was, knowing the twins.  There were a few boxes stacked in one corner, most likely surplus inventory. 

You stood in the door way and tilted your head to the side.  “Says who?”  You challenged and George practically blanched.  A small laugh came from you as you glanced down at your hands.  “I liked you quite a bit, actually.  When you and Fred left, I was absolutely gutted.  Still am, actually,” you admitted with a small frown on your face as you looked anywhere but at George.  Lillian trotted by and onto your bed immediately, as if she knew that is where you’d be staying.  

He was quiet for a moment, most likely assessing the situation.  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”  He questioned and looked away.

A lump formed in your throat as you swallowed hard.  “You never told me either, actually.  I knew it was a joke that Fred said you liked me.  But I thought that was all it was, a joke,” you told him softly, trying to hide the sadness in your voice.  

George remained silent once more, his heart aching at your pathetic sight, and he reached forward, enveloping you in a gentle hug.  “(Y/N), I would never joke about that.  How could I hurt the girl I ever loved like that?”  George asked and listened as you began to sniffle.  

“You loved me?”  You whimpered out, and tried your hardest to keep the tears from falling.  

For a moment, there was silence in the loft.  Neither you nor George said a word.  “I never stopped,” George admitted you quietly, and you looked up at him, still searching his face for any sign of a joke.  

You swallowed hard and shook your head softly.  “Oh, George,” you whispered and put your arms around his neck, pulling him down to your height and pressing your lips to his quickly.  George responded fully, pulling your body tight against his and kissing you hungrily.  

Once the two of you pulled away, you were breathing heavily and a smile would not fade from George’s face.  “You have no idea how long I have been wanting to do that,” he told you as you smiled.  

“Likewise.”  Your voice was quiet and nervous and you stepped from his arms and glanced at your watch.  It was nearing eleven in the morning, meaning the shop would be opening any moment.  

George checked the time as well.  There was a look on his face that told you he didn’t want to leave you at that moment.  “Well, this should make for an interesting boarding situation,” he mumbled and rested his hand hand on your cheek, allowing you to lean into it.  “I should go help Fred.”  He sighed gently and let his hands drop.  “Settle in, and we can talk tonight, yeah?”  He offered, and you nodded with a gentle smile on your lips.  

“Yeah,” you agreed.  With one last nod, George retreated down the hall with a smile on his face, as you put a hand over your heart.  Your breathing was shallow, but you were content, nonetheless.  You sat on the foreign bed and laid back, trying to comprehend the morning you had.

[harrysweasleys]

Legacy

Summary: Slytherin Reader is married to Fred and the two have a daughter. When she goes off to Hogwarts and gets sorted into Slytherin, it’s a tough pill for Fred to swallow. 

Warnings: angst, language

Word Count: 3.6k

A/N: So I really enjoyed writing this one. It starts off a little slow but it picks up, I promise!! I’m just soft for dad Fred. he deserved better. 

-

The pairing of Fred Weasley and Y/N Y/L/N was unlikely to say the least. The two, who had been in the same year, didn’t find themselves in each others’ company during their time at Hogwarts. But, Y/N, who was loyal to the school, had saved him from a terrible fate during the Battle of Hogwarts, and the two found their way together after that. 

She had known of the Gryffindor prankster, he was not exactly subtle in their years together at Hogwarts. On multiple occasions, the tall ginger twin had set of Dungbombs and Fireworks in their classrooms. Y/N never admitted it, but she always found the twins’ pranks quite amusing. She would silently laugh behind her hand as McGonagall or Flitwick, or sometimes even Snape would glare at them and remove points from Gryffindor. But, that never dampened the spirits of the brothers, who always found a way to keep people on their toes. 

Y/N, on the other hand, tried not to bring too much attention to herself in her time at the school. She was placed in Slytherin, much to her parents’ utter thrill, and kept her circle of friends small. She only really had two friends — a dark-haired boy named Stellan and a blonde girl named Alice. The two had been her go-to companions practically the whole time she was there. They had been some of the only non-pureblood-fanatics she had met. Sure, she prided herself in being a pureblood with well-respected parents, but found no understanding in why some people in her house — particularly Draco Malfoy — found pleasure in bringing down those who weren’t. 

After graduating, Y/N took time off and debated coming back to Hogwarts as a professor — the late Professor Snape always told her she had a talent for Potions — but with the looming threat of the Dark Lord’s return, she decided to stay on the down-low and get a job in Diagon Alley at Quality Quidditch Supplies. 

She spent five years being a Chaser on the Slytherin Quidditch team, she really did love the sport. She also found herself wandering into Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes during her breaks, admiring the new products on the shelf and having a laugh at those who tried some of their infamous sweets. How the twins managed to keep people smiling in such a dark time, she had no idea. 

When the Battle of Hogwarts came to be, Y/N found herself on the frontline, ready to defend the school that her heart belonged to. Which is how she found Fred, cornered in by a Death Eater, who looked ready to kill. She had sent him a curse — ‘levicorpus!’ — and Fred knew right there in that moment that she was the one. 

The two found each other one day in Diagon Alley, and they were both done for. Falling in love didn’t come hard for these two. Five years later, they were married, and two years after that, their first child — a daughter — was born. 

Ariella Weasley took after her father. She had long, curly ginger hair and freckles scattered across her pale cheeks. The older she got, the more she resembled him. She also did take after her mother, though, because she had Fred wrapped around her little finger. She also had her mother’s pale Y/E/C eyes and her honest smile.

“I’d die for the two of you, y’know?” Fred mumbled to Y/N one night as the two put their baby girl to sleep. Y/N knew, she’d die for the both of them too. They were her entire world.

As Ariella grew older, she started to have fun pranking her cousins with her dad. The two were like partners in crime, and Y/N felt like the luckiest woman alive to be surrounded by two of the liveliest people in the universe.

When Ariella was 11, her Hogwarts letter came in the mail. 

“Now, Ari, you’ve got a reputation to live up to. A legacy if you will,” Fred told her, sitting her on the couch, “Uncle Georgie and I really left our mark on Hogwarts, yeah? So keep in mind that you’ve got to live up to it.”

Arielle looked to her mum, eyes wide.

“He’s kidding, love,” Y/N rubbed her back soothingly, “Your dad had a reputation of getting into trouble. If you chose not to go down that same path, you won’t hear me complaining.”

Fred rolled his eyes at his wife, “You know that I made sure things were never boring. Life is supposed to be fun!”

“Fun, yes,” Y/N chuckled, “But education is also important, especially for a young witch. Your dad caused many distractions.” Ariella looked between her two parents and shot them both a toothy grin.

“Trouble and learning go well together!”

Y/N shook her head, a smile on her face as well. 

Fred grinned at the two of them, “That’s my girl! When you get sorted into Gryffindor, tell McGonagall I say hi.”

“If she gets sorted into Gryffindor,” Y/N reminded him, “Any house is fine, darling. They’ve all got their strengths.”

Fred was proud of his time in the scarlet and gold house, and he made sure people knew. Everyone in the Weasley family had been placed there and they had each been treated with respect every time they stepped foot back in the school. Ginny, Ron, Fred and George had been on the Quidditch team, Bill and Percy had been Head Boy — there was no shortage of love for the Gryffindor house in the Weasley family. 

“But what if she gets placed in Slytherin?” Fred grimaced, “Goodness.”

Y/N thought he was joking, so she shrugged him off and faced her daughter, “I was a Slytherin, and I think I turned out fine.”

“You did, not everyone did. I mean, most Death Eaters came out of there,” Fred pressed on, arms crossed. Ariella looked between her parents, trying to figure out what she’d do if she wasn’t in Gryffindor. 

“There are no more Death Eaters, Freddie,” Y/N was a little more stern, “Besides, I knew loads of people in Slytherin who didn’t end up working for the Dark Lord. You just gotta pick your battles.”

Fred dropped the subject and continued telling his daughter about all the things she has to look forward to in her upcoming years. 

---

The day Y/N and Fred dropped her off at Platform Nine and Three Quarters was sad day indeed. Y/N shed a few tears, and Fred felt his heart crack slightly as he watched the red steam engine barrel out of sight. 

The two made their way back, stopping by to have tea in London before taking their sweet time coming home, and when they got through the front doors a little after sunset, Fred threw his body down on the couch and dragged Y/N down with him. He wrapped her up in his arms and nuzzled his head into her neck. 

“What are we gonna do with all this alone time, huh?” he smirked against her neck, placing a light kiss before abruptly pulling away, “Pillow fight!” 

He caught her completely off guard and smacked a couch pillow across her face. She held back a gasp, grabbing the one behind her and smacking him right back. 

The two battled it out until they were red in the face and panting, both slightly sore from toppling over furniture to avoid getting hit in the face. 

“What should we do for dinner, love?” Fred wrapped his arms around her waist, kissing the side of her cheek, “First dinner without Ariella in a long time.”

“I know,” Y/N replied, the hollow feeling in her chest growing as she missed her daughter, “It’s weird. But I know she’s off to go have the best seven years of her life.”

“Yeah,” Fred responded, “Maybe she can even bring home the House Cup!”

“Maybe she can,” Y/N twirled around, placing a light kiss to her husband’s lips and trailing off into the kitchen.

---

The next morning, Y/N and Fred Weasley were awoken by a large owl knocking at their window, a letter attached to its scrawny leg. 

“Oh, it’s from Hogwarts,” Y/N grinned as she opened the window, plucking the letter off of the owl, tipping it with a quick snack, and letting it fly back to where it came from. 

She opened the letter and read it aloud;

‘Dear Mr. and Mrs. Weasley,

We are thrilled to inform you that as of last night at 7:03pm, your daughter Ariella Weasley has been sorted into Slytherin House. Headmistress McGonagall would like to send her well-wishes and hopes this letter finds you well. 

Forms will be going out next month to students who wish to come home for the Christmas and New Year holidays.

Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry’

Y/N placed the letter down with a smile, her heart thumping loudly, “Hey, she takes after her mother after all! She’s in Slytherin!”

“What?” Fred muttered, his face paler than usual. His hands gripped the bedsheets, “She’s in Slytherin?”

Y/N clutched the letter in her hand and made her way over to the bed, sitting next to him with a smile on her face, oblivious to his lack of enthusiasm.

“That’s great, I’m happy for her. I wonder if I should tell her about the secret passageway next to the fireplace—”

“She’s in Slytherin? Why?” Fred placed his head in his hands as if searching his brain for the answer. Y/N dropped the letter and held onto his wrists, forcing him to look up at her.

“What’s the issue? Why are you so upset she’s in Slytherin?” she tried to hide the hurt in her voice at how lowly he thought of her house. Yes, Slytherin had a reputation, but that was in the past. Y/N had a lot of emerald pride. 

“Because — Slytherin, Y/N,” he shook his head, “I mean, come on. Voldemort was Slytherin, Malfoy, Snape, Crabbe and Goyle—”

“So was I,” she crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow, “First off, Voldemort was fifty years before us. Snape’s dead, may he rest in peace, so are Crabbe and Goyle. They made mistakes and paid for them. Not everyone in the house ended up being awful. Every house in Hogwarts has had their share of... troubled wizards. Slytherin happens to have had more, sure, but that’s not the house’s fault. It’s the wizard’s fault.”

Fred didn’t seem calmed by her words, not bothering to hide his distaste for Salazar Slytherin’s house. 

“But they’re wicked. They’d cheat at Quidditch, they’d taunt first years, they’d always think they were better than everyone else.”

Y/N didn’t stop glaring at him, “Fred, you can’t be serious. I was a Slytherin and I saved your ass. Alice was Slytherin and she’s now an Auror, Stellan owns a store in Diagon Alley — which may I remind you, you do too.”

“That’s different,” he muttered, turning to face away from her and getting out of bed, “You were good. You’ve always been good. You should have been in Ravenclaw or something.”

“What?” she got up as well, forgetting about the letter on the bed, “What is your problem? Just suck it up and accept the fact that two of the women in your life are Slytherins.”

Without another word, she stormed out of the room and down the stairs, anger fuming from her ears. She knew Fred still held distaste for her house, but she thought that after all these years, he’d be way over it. 

She stormed into the kitchen, making herself a cup of tea and grabbing the copy of the Daily Prophet that had been delivered at their doorstep that morning, sitting down at the table and sipping her tea. She looked over the announcements from the Ministry, seeing a few familiar names, and didn’t bother looking up from the newspaper when she noticed Fred begrudgingly walking down the stairs, his feet dragging across the floor as he sat across from her at the dining table. 

“Love, I’m sorry,” he mumbled, trying to look at her over the newspaper, “I shouldn’t have said what I did, I was just shocked, I guess.”

“Shocked? Is that what you call shock? Sounds like a grudge, if you ask me,” she replied cooly, still not looking at him. 

He sighed, “I overreacted, I know. I don’t know why, I just can’t help but think of them the same way that I did when I was in school.”

“Freddie, you can’t do that,” she finally lowered the paper and placed it aside, “Firstly, it hurts me. Secondly, it’ll hurt Ari as well if you start dissing Slytherin. She was really nervous, she doesn’t want to disappoint you.”

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he reached across the table and held her hands gently, “And I don’t want Ari to think I’m disappointed in her. I just — I’ll get over it, I promise.”

---

Over the next few months, Ariella wrote to the two of them, expressing how excited she was to be making friends. She also ranted on for two pages about her love for Transfigurations and Herbology. Her Professor, Neville Longbottom, had been a friend of Fred’s when he was at school. 

Fred had grown more used to the fact that his daughter was a Slytherin, and the conversations involving her house were usually pretty short between him and Y/N. 

As the Christmas holidays rolled around, Fred and Y/N had decorated the house in preparation to finally have their daughter home. Although they never really lost contact, it had been a long few months for her parents.

“The train’s arriving at two o’clock, Fred! You need to get going!” Y/N whisked him out the door, placing a quick kiss on his lips before returning to the kitchen and continuing the cookies she had been making. It was rare she did them the muggle way, but she had time to spare and thought baking would be fun. 

Within the hour, Fred and Ariella arrived through the door, both grinning and red-nosed. Y/N rushed over to her daughter, scooping her up in her arms and squeezing her. 

“Mum, ouch,” Ariella giggled, “At least let me take my shoes off.”

Y/N placed her daughter down and started removing her apron, rushing into the kitchen to place the fresh batch of cookies in front of them both. Fred grinned, shoving three of them in his mouth and smiling at Y/N, crumbs falling all over the table.

Ariella grabbed her trunk that Fred brought in and excused herself, rushing upstairs to her room to put it away.

“These are good, they taste like Christmas,” Fred spoke through another mouthful of cookie.

“Fred, don’t eat them all,” Y/N chuckled, moving the plate out of his reach with a smirk, “I haven’t got all holiday to keep making more.”

He sagged his shoulders and sighed dramatically, “Fiiiine.” He walked around the table, pressed a kiss to Y/N’s forehead, and nearly jumped out of his skin when Ariella came tumbling down the stairs in a mess of green.

“You good?” Y/N asked her daughter, holding back a laugh as Ariella stood up, brushing herself off as if no one noticed her fall.

“Yep, totally,” she walked it off, placing a mess of fabric down on the table, “Anyways, I wanted to show you guys my stuff! Here’s my Slytherin scarf, I usually only wear it to Quidditch games — oh, we beat Hufflepuff real good — and here’s my tie. Getting used to it was weird but I quite like it now. And here’s my sweater that a girl in my house gave to me as a Christmas gift.”

She lifted up the bulky green sweater, showing off the giant Slytherin house crest on the front, “It’ll be my new go-to during matches in the springtime. Slughorn — he’s head of my house — says I’ve got unmatched Slytherin pride! He also says hi, mum.”

Y/N smiled, placing her hand on her daughter’s shoulder, “This is all lovely, darling. I’m glad you’re so proud of your house. And tell Professor Slughorn I say hi back.”

Ariella grinned, picking up the scarf and wrapping it around her neck, tossing her ginger hair over her shoulder and posing, “Doesn’t green just suit me?”

“Of course —”

“We get it, you like Slytherin,” Fred snapped from next to the fridge. He was leaning against it, arms crossed as he watched his daughter flaunt her Slytherin clothing items, a proud grin on her face. 

“Fred...” Y/N dropped her head, taking her hand off of her daughter’s shoulder, “Come on, we’ve been over this.”

“Over what?” Ariella piped up, slowly removing her scarf as if she was offending him, “Dad... were you... ashamed that I was placed in Slytherin?”

Fred sighed, avoiding eye contact with her and looking out the window at the slow snowfall. Ariella seemed to take this as a yes, and she dropped the scarf on the table with a defeated sigh. 

“Ari, honey, it’s not —”

“It’s fine, I get it,” she scoffed, taking off upstairs with loud footsteps. Y/N flinched as the door slammed shut loudly, rattling the walls of the house. She picked up the scarf on the table, remembering how proud she was when she brought all of her stuff home to show her parents for the first time as well.

“Fred, you need to let this go,” Y/N said softly, not taking her eyes off of the scarf, “You can’t keep denying that she’s not in Gryffindor. I get it, every Weasley has been in that house, but she’s not just a Weasley. She’s a part of me too, and she’s taken after you in every other aspect — her hair, her attitude, her freckles, her laugh — why can’t you accept the fact that for once, she’s taken after me for something?” 

Fred seemed to ponder her words. He had never thought about it that way. People always told him about how much she resembled him in every aspect, but it wasn’t often that people said that to Y/N. And now, she watched with pride as her daughter was placed in her old house. It was almost like she could finally see herself in her. 

“You’re right,” Fred mumbled, “You’re completely right. Merlin’s beard, I’ve been an idiot.” He wrapped his arms around his wife and pulled her into him, hugging her as if his action was louder than his words. 

“You have to go tell her that, she’s the one who thinks you’re ashamed.”

Fred pulled away and sighed, running his hand down his face and nodding, “You’re... you’re right. I need to go talk to her. She needs to know that I am proud of her. I always will be. And... that her mum was the most badass Slytherin ever. She’ll take after you there.”

Y/N giggled, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, “Go tell her that, Freddie.”

“Can you come with me?” his voice was barely above a whisper and Y/N nearly swooned at how desperate he was. Ariella was, no doubt, a daddy’s girl, so having her dad come around and reassure her would mean the world her.

“Of course, love,” Y/N placed a kiss on his cheek and the two of them walked upstairs. She knocked slowly on her door and once a quite ‘come in’ was heard, she opened it and looked down at her daughter. Ariella was sitting on her bed, reading ‘Hogwarts: A History.’

When she saw her parents walk in, both looking apologetic, she placed the book down and sat crosslegged, turning to face them.

“Your dad has something he wants to say,” Y/N nudged Fred forwards. He gave her a grateful nod and walked over to the bed, sitting down on the edge and placing his hands in his lap.

“I’m sorry if you thought I was ashamed,” he started, “I was shocked when we got the letter saying you were in Slytherin, I won’t deny it. When I was at school, the Slytherin students were always cunning, mean, rushing around the halls looking for any reason to torment the people they saw. They cheated, they lied, and eventually, a lot of them ended up working for the Dark Lord. I guess that now, twenty years after my time, I’m still thinking about that side of Slytherin. But then, after I left school, I met your mum. And she changed my opinion completely.”

Y/N sat there in awe, listening to what he had to say.

“She was caring, smart, loyal, funny — everything I wouldn’t expect from a Slytherin. I guess what I’m trying to say is that even though you take after me in every aspect of your physical appearance, I’m glad that your heart is like your mother’s. I’m proud of you.”

Ariella was close to tears, and so was Y/N. She watcher her daughter flail her arms around her dad’s neck and hug him like her life depended on it. Y/N sat by the door, her hand over her heart, and a loving smile on her lips.

She watched the smile spread across Fred’s face as he hugged his daughter back, relieved she wasn’t mad at him. 

--

Later that evening, after Ariella had gone to sleep, Y/N and Fred sat on the couch, wrapped in blankets and watching the fire crackle in the fireplace. Her head was leaning against his shoulder, and his head leaning against hers. His hand was on her thigh, rubbing slow circles. 

“I love you,” he muttered quietly, “I’m so sorry for everything. I’ve really been an idiot.”

“You have, but it’s fine,” she giggled, leaning up to face him, “I still love you.”

And she really did, with all her heart. 

Who knew these two were so perfect for each other?

[fnaffandomevents]

Hi! This is really late but...

The next event will be Animatronic August and will run throughout the month of August!

Some rules and info:

This is a month for the animatronics. Night guards and other characters can be featured but please focus on the animatronics.

There are both weekly and daily themes. You can do one or the other or even both! It’s up to you and what you think you are capable of handling!

Please appropriately tag any NSFW content, gore, etc.

Art, fics, edits, cosplay, etc. are all welcome!

Tag all submissions as #animatronicaugust2k20

If you want, you can also tag this blog

Any questions? Feel free to message me! I’ll be happy to answer them for you!

Have fun!

Theme list below the cut!

Daily themes: 

August 1st- Isolated

All things start with one alone. On this day, create something around the idea of alone.

August 2nd- Sun

A big ball of fire in the sky that marks daytime. On this day, create something around the idea of the sun.

August 3rd- Moon

A (relatively) small rock in the sky that marks night time. Considered to be the opposite of the sun. On this day, create something around the idea of moon.

August 4th- Lost & Found

What’s lost is usually found. Mostly because it’s sometimes put in a box labelled “lost and found.” On this day, create something around the idea of lost & found. 

August 5th- Grim

Don’t fear the reaper. On this day, create something around the idea of grim. 

August 6th- Sweets

Cake, candy, and Freddy Fudgebars. On this day, create something around the concept of sweets. 

August 7th- Caught

The exact opposite of the goal in hide and seek. On this day, create something around the idea of caught.

August 8th- Water

The element people need to live. Probably not that good for robots though. On this day, create something around the concept of water.

August 9th- Fish

Gone fishin’. On this day, create something around the idea of fish.

August 10th- Birthday

If your birthday is August 10th, you’re in luck! Also happy birthday! And be careful of lurking Funtime Freddys. On this day, create something around the concept of birthdays. 

August 11th- Space

Sun, moon, stars... or just a general emptiness. On this day, create something around the idea of space.

August 12th- Android

A humanoid robot as well as a phone system. On this day, create something around the idea of androids.

August 13th- LOL

Please stand by! On this day, create something around the idea of LOL.

August 14th- Nature

Trees, bugs, and flowers galore! On this day, create something around the idea of nature. 

August 15th- Nurture

Time for growth and development! On this day, create something around the concept of nurture.

August 16th- Knife

A sharp object used for cooking... or for more nefarious reasons. On this day, create something around the idea of knives.

August 17th- Bow

Can’t look your best when performing unless you’re decorated with a nice bow! On this day, create something around the idea of bows. 

August 18th- Rust

The result of oxygen mixing with metal. On this day, create something around the idea of rust.

August 19th- Road Trip

Time for a little sightseeing break! On this day, create something around the concept of road trips.

August 20th- Glass

A breakable substance that makes up many common objects, such as windows or cups. On this day, create something around the idea of glass.

August 21st- Ghost

A theme to lift the spirits! On this day, create something around the concept of ghosts.

August 22nd- Upgrade

Level up! On this day, create something around the idea of upgrade.

August 23rd- Scare

Not gonna lie when I started writing this description that one Phineas and Ferb song from the episode where Isabella has the hiccups popped into my head and now that is the only thing I can think of. Anyways. On this day, create something around the idea of scare. 

August 24th- Enemies

Sometimes two people just hate each other. On this day, create something around the idea of enemies. 

August 25th- Pride

June may be over but it’s never too late to have pride! On this day, create something around the idea of pride. 

August 26th- Fall

Did I literally just include this theme to make a joke? Maybe. Do I regret it? No. On this day, create something around the idea of fall.

August 27th- Gray

Ah, yes, the color between black and white. On this day, create something around the idea of gray.

August 28th- Animal

Every animatronic has a theme and many of them rely on animals. On this day, create something around the idea of animals.

August 29th- Door

Better keep that door shut! You never know what’s lurking behind. On this day, create something around the concept of doors.

August 30th- Mask

Wear a mask. That’s it, that’s the description. On this day, create something around the idea of masks. 

August 31st- Team

Everything’s better with friends. On this day, create something around the idea of team.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Weekly themes:

Week 1 (August 1st - August 8th)- Spring

The season of new beginnings, flowers, and rain. During this week, create something around the idea of spring.

Week 2 (August 9th - August 15th)- Summer

Warm weather, sun, and swimming. During this week, create something around the idea of summer. 

Week 3 (August 16th - August 22nd)- Autumn

Crunchy leaves, apple cider, and Halloween! During this week, create something around the idea of autumn.

Week 4 (August 23rd - August 31st)- Winter

The season of snowstorms, snowmen, and presents. During this week, create something around the idea of winter.

[hideawayintheimaginationworld]

Could we get a short story about Millie having a nightmare about Molten Freddy?

Millie was in the graveyard, it had become like her original Dreamscape for the last few months.

It was more like Hell.

Her own personal handcrafted Hell.

It was always cold here, even wearing her black and purple hoodie, she was hugging herself to keep herself warm and to try to feel safe.

She walked ahead, she was not wearing shoes but she didn’t feel the ground physically on her feet, she just felt numb besides the feeling beneath her cold skin, it was like a cold that was freezing the insides of her bones, like sharp icicles grew in her body and muscles, making her walking almost robotic and stiff.

She ignored the tombstones around her, there were many, she knew looking at them was a mistake, there were the many, many symbols of death. She wanted to forget this place but something just kept bringing her back it appeared.

She looked around, she knew she was alone but she felt like she was physically stalked by a predator, she wondered if this was how someone as paranoid as Delilah felt at times, just the deep pit in the gut feeling, something dark creeping not too far behind, sharpening its claws.

She wanted this to end, it was just an open dead land full of broken tombstones, open graves, and trees that snapped like bones when she stepped on them, and a ground that was dead and dry.

Millie started to walk up a hill, the ground almost seem to scratch at her feet like it was trying to make her uncomfortable, she kept going, she tried to push away the thought that something bad was there, she was in control of her dreams, she could leave when she wanted, she wasn’t trapped against her will.

She sometimes couldn’t help but feel like a lost spirit looking for a purpose, even in the real world. She just existed instead of living, she could walk in the streets, listening to music and feel just as empty as right now.

Like something was missing.

Maybe something actually did die on that day when she met Funtime Freddy.

Maybe it was her hope if she ever had any in the first place.

“Keep running, we'll be there.”

Her empty feeling was replaced by fear, it grew deep roots and twisted her in such a way she stood still, hearing leaves rustling around somewhere. She didn’t like how quiet this world was.

“The dead are also quiet.”

No, you won’t.

She started running forward, as she did, her legs started to burn and ache, she felt some resistance like something was trying to pull her back, she kept reminding herself of how strong she was, she was still alive and she wouldn’t fall, so each time she was caught and put down, she could rise stronger than ever.

The ground started to wobble like she was running on a soft surface like pillows, Millie tried to keep running but fell back into something, her heart gave a nasty start as she looked up and saw a glowing orange eye and sharp teeth greeted her.

She jumped up to avoid a wire grabbing at her, she ran ahead, seeing it had given her the strength to run in fear, this isn’t real, she reminded herself, I’m not trapped, this is just a stupid dream!!

The beast snarled at her, she heard it pounding the ground behind her as it ran, well it ran strangely. It was a strange version of Funtime Freddy, it was missing its body and only had the broken, jagged face, sharp teeth and sharper claws, the whole body was made up of wire tendrils that twisted and slithered like a snake. She heard it make another strange gargled sound.

“MIlliE.”

She tripped, she didn’t realise it tripped her leg until she was dragged backwards.

“sTAy wITh mE, L-LeT'S cOunT thE wAys.”

Her fingernails tried to dig into the dirt so she wasn’t pulled backwards, all it accomplished was her fingernails getting large chunks of dirt that started to get under her skin, making her whine in pain, she turned to see the broken face, it had a face.

It had a weakness.

Millie let herself be pulled towards him before lifting her leg, and delivering a hard kick to the broken face, hearing it crack and crumble, the beast grabbed his face with one of its hands and screeched in what sounded like pain. Millie felt the wire on her leg was loose so she backed away on her hands and knees before she stood up and ran as fast as she could, reasoning she had time to outrun it as it didn’t even have a real body.

Plus this was Funtime Freddy.

Well a version of him at least, she had seen he wasn’t a fast runner.

She felt a rush of adrenaline and almost pride that was shown in her running picking up speed, she had always been a scared little girl and she had just kicked him to escape, she never stood up to him, usually, she'd cower like a little rabbit and someone else would have to help her. Her heart felt ready to explode from her chest, she didn’t know if it was from fear or feeling happy she escaped without help.

She could see the sky above change, from the endless cloudy night sky to sunset colours, vibrant splashes of orange, yellow and pink, this filled her with hope, she kept running, wanting to escape the dark and go to the light, the hope of a better tomorrow.

She was on the top of the hill, she saw the tall iron fence, and the gate.

She ran to the gate, trying to pull it open, but it only rattled slightly, she looked at the giant padlock on the other side. Locked, she immediately grumbled in her thoughts thinking of the inconvenience of it being locked.

She thought of how she could open it, forcing it open wide enough so she could squeeze through or even climbing over the fence, when she saw a few metres outside of the fence was a wooden bench with a man sitting on it.

She recognised him immediately.

“Grandpa!”

Her Grandpa just sat there, he was looking around, all Millie saw was the back of his head.

“Grandpa, I’m here! Can you help me?” She asked.

She heard footsteps, she saw Lefty had come from nowhere, his face was fixed into a frown.

“What are you doing outside? It's cold.”

“Lefty! I need help he's after me!!” Millie told him.

“Stephan?”

Millie realised that was her Grandpa, he didn’t even seem to know she was there.

It was like she disappeared completely.

“Lefty, I need help!!” She started to shake the gate nonstop, she looked behind her anxious it would crawl up behind her at any point, she started to sweat and shake at that possibility.

Lefty stepped to her Grandpa, putting his hand on his shoulder.

“I’m sorry,” Lefty shook his head.

“No, no, it's not your fault,” She heard him sniffle.

Was he crying? She had never heard him cry, he was such a positive person, he never cried, he did look sad and disappointed but Millie had never seen him cry

“Oh no, please don’t cry...”

“I would honestly give anything for another day with her...”

“We all would, Millie was more valuable than she thought... and I will not let a monster steal another child from me...” Lefty responded, “Let's go away from this place of misery...”

“Lefty!! Grandpa!!” Millie cried desperately, she looked behind her again before shouting, “He's going to kill me, help!!” She watched helplessly as they walked away, she reached out her hand waving it around watching them slowly faded into the white space ahead, Millie saw a better place within her grasp and it was fading away.

She started crying and let out a scream, she wanted to be seen. She wanted to be heard.

She existed!

She was real!

She screamed again when she was pulled backwards.

She was forced face to face by the beast, it snarled at her, wires tangled around her torso, hanging her off the ground, she used her hands to try and force them off, she looked behind her and she could still faintly see Lefty and her Grandpa.

“ThEy cAn't hear you lambchOp...”

She looked at Funtime Freddy's broken face with teary eyes, she could see the orange light flicker blue then turn red, a bright red that blinded her, she shielded her eyes, frowning and pulling herself to get away from him.

“How UnFortuNAte...” Funtime Freddy snapped his jaw after saying that, Millie flinched, seeing the wall of teeth.

The wires around her torso tighten, it felt like a series of ropes pulling and pulling, she swore she felt her skin burn and her muscles tensed.

“GooDBye!”

She was suddenly thrown upwards then abruptly thrown back down, and she realised the ground was there, she was going to have her head smashed.

She couldn’t even scream.

She felt her head beginning to ache, she turned her head to try to shield the impact, hoping it would be quick at the very least.

She gasped as she fell out of bed instead, landing on the floor with a thud.

She looked around, everything changed.

She forgot she was in a nightmare.

She was in her room, she had tangled herself in her blanket, which she immediately pulled apart, thinking of the constriction and wanting to be free.

She looked around, she could hear the faint ticking of Sarah's wristwatch across the room, she saw the silhouettes of the bookshelf, the closet, and Sarah herself, still asleep, obviously having a dreamless sleep tonight.

Millie sat on the ground, trying to make sense of what she saw when she realised she was still crying.

She was just terrified, having no real idea of where that manifestation came from, it was like a snake, ready to strike whenever.

Like the real Funtime Freddy, moving silently in the night like a monster.

She got to her feet, wobbling, she grabbed onto her bed to support herself while she stood up, she walked a few shaky steps and reached for the door handle, pulling it open then looking outside.

The hallway was empty, she could see the darkness ahead but she knew at the end of the hallway, Lefty was asleep in bed, undisturbed.

She wondered if he ever had nightmares.

She stepped back to look at her bedside table and felt around for her phone, she didn’t keep much on her little table, usually, the current book she was reading, her medication, a small notebook, earphones, and her lamp.

She finally got a grip on the shape and pulled it up, pressing the button which illuminated the screen and the current time.

4:56 AM.

Of course, everyone else would be asleep, she would have to be awake for school at 7:30 AM. School was actually the last thing on her mind right now, she couldn’t really talk at school.

She pressed the button to turn off the screen and placed it down, she then looked back into the hallway.

She took two steps out and silently closed the door behind her, she then quietly walked ahead to Lefty's room.

She was confronted by the door, which was the final gate.

A gate which she could open.

She had a decision, a sense of freedom she never had before.

She didn’t want to keep living in darkness, she had seen others living in the light.

She wanted that.

She knew she needed help.

Asking was difficult.

She grabbed the door handle and pushed open the door, closing it behind her, she saw Lefty asleep on his bed, on his side, looking like a real bear in the dark.

She tiptoed over and was directly next to him, she pushed his shoulder back, Lefty didn’t even move, she gripped his shoulder and shook it.

During the shaking, Lefty's eye cracked open and he looked at Millie.

“Wat do you want...?” He said sounding half awake.

Millie didn’t say anything, Lefty then blinked and it fully opened his eyes, his eye started glowing in the dark room, it was a soft glow like a nightlight.

“Millie?” He asked, his voice still sounding groggy, he pushed himself to sit up and looked at her.

“What's wrong?”

Millie felt her throat tighten, she felt like the monster was behind her, ready to catch her, it seized her throat and stopped her from talking.

She didn’t know if it was Funtime Freddy or fear.

Thinking about that brought tears to her eyes.

She let out a sob before becoming silent, tensing up.

“Millie, it's okay,” Lefty said, he got out of bed, and stood up, immediately hugging her to his torso, she hid her face in the mass of fluff on his chest, “I'm here... It’s okay...”

Millie felt trapped by this real-life nightmare.

“Did you have a nightmare?” He asked.

She pulled away slightly and nodded.

“Would you like to tell me or no?”

Millie wiped away her tears then answered, “Funtime Freddy is a monster...”

Lefty nodded, “I know... he is selfish... it's okay now... it wasn’t real... you're okay... and I would personally throw Funtime Freddy into open traffic before he ever got near you...”

Millie wiped her eyes again, she hated the feeling of crying, it made her feel pathetic, especially crying in front of other people, it was a weakness they could pick.

“You're supposed to be awake in a few hours... Millie...” Lefty spoke softly, “Would you like me to call your Grandpa? You can take the day off school and spend the day relaxing if you want...”

Millie looked away, “He'd be asleep.”

“He said if you ever needed him, you could call him, at any time, I’m sure he doesn’t care if you wake him up.”

That was the type of person he was.

She remembered how awful she was to him at times, how snappy and annoyed she sounded.

He was always so sweet and caring.

“Yes... I'll call him...” She nodded.

Millie was sitting on the sofa downstairs, she had taken her blanket with her, Annabel Lee, being disturbed by her, followed her downstairs and jumped into her lap, Millie held her phone in her hand, hesitating to actually wake up her Grandpa. She looked up at Lefty, watching him talk to Helpy in the kitchen, they were going back and forward, Helpy looked worried and looked around, Lefty shook his head and said something that assured him because his worried look disappeared, Lefty smiled at him and Helpy walked away from the conversation. Surprisingly, Helpy immediately walked over to Millie and jumped onto the sofa, sitting next to her.

As scary as he was because he looked like Funtime Freddy...

He thought about the comment Sarah said about him...

He was like a marshmallow, soft and puffy, and an absolute sweetheart.

“You are much braver than you realise... a normal person would have died by now.”

Helpy turned his head to her, she would sometimes see the menacing blue eyes of Funtime Freddy reflected back... the eyes that wanted to kill her... the bloodthirsty eyes...

But this time she saw almost the colour of the sky.

A bright blue sky in Helpy's big, child-like eyes...

Seeing the sky reminded her she was still alive.

“Are you going to call your Grandpa or do you want me to?” Helpy asked her.

“No... no... I will,” she finally pressed the icon to call the home phone at her Grandpa's house.

She pressed it to her ear, it rang a couple of times before she heard a click.

“Hello?”

“Grandpa? I hope you don’t mind...” Millie spoke sounding nervous at waking him up early.

“No, no Millie... I’m happy to talk to you...” She heard his voice, while he sounded slightly tired, she could hear the warmth in his voice.

She felt relieved but didn’t expect what he said next:

“I'm glad you still talk to me.”

Millie blinked, she then answered, “Of course I want to talk to you.”

“It's always nice to hear from you Millie, you are surrounded by people that care for you, and even when I’m not next to you, I'm still thinking about my brave granddaughter... and how far she has come...”

Millie smiled, life wasn't perfect, but it was the best it could possibly be at this stage.

It was helped greatly by Lefty and her Grandpa, and their reassuring words.

[dirt-cup-draco]

Platonic!Fred x Reader- Spark

Hey can u do a post war ,platonic angst list 45 24 an 17 w/ fred weasley ?

Fred sighed deeply after another long but fulfilling day spreading whatever joy he could with George there to be the positive one when he couldn’t quite manage it. It wasn’t that he wasn’t happy, for Merlin’s sake he should be dead! He was thanking the gods every second of the day, yet he couldn’t help but feel like something was missing. 

“You missed a spot,” George poked fun as Fred drifted into his own mind. Fred rolled his eyes but his grip tightened on his cane as he leaned against one of the shelves, using the rag attached to the bottom of his cane to wipe at the window where some kid had put their sugary fingers all over. 

George watched Fred as he slouched, cleaning halfheartedly. “What’s been going on with you lately? It’s like you’re not really here...” George’s voice was soft and loving and Fred was grateful for his twin’s strength and compassion every day. 

Fred shook his head, shrugging his shoulders as he hobbled to his brother. His leg ached more than usual today and it had put him in a sour mood. “Just been thinkin’ about when we were in school...” 

“Good times,” George smiled fondly, a glint in his eye that had never left. It was hard to find that same spark in Fred these days. 

Fred hoped that he had placated his brother’s worries and he was certain he had, as he had made it halfway up the stairs before George surprised him. “Is it Y/N?” 

Fred’s cane rattled out of his hand and clanged against the swirling stairs. Cussing he gripped the rail, trying to move his trick knee so that he could begin his descent but George jogged easily to the steps and grabbed his twin’s cane, bringing it up to him. With a flick of his wand, that was more for show than necessity, the doors locked and the lights went out as they finished ascending the last few steps into their shared apartment. 

“I take your silence as a yes...?” George asked cheekily as Fred sank into the nearest recliner with a huff. 

“No,” Fred said but George raised his eyebrows in a look that told him: I know better you git, tell me the truth. “Fine, maybe. Yes. I don’t know! She keeps sending letters...” 

“And you haven’t answered any of them,” George pointed out, making his way to their cluttered dinner table, lifting a stack of letters that got larger everyday. Guilt coursed through his veins. 

“I just-” 

“Can’t deal with how you broke her heart?” 

“Seriously, George?” Fred had to ask as his brother drove in the point. He was right though. It’d been months since he’d last seen you and you had tried reaching out every day after. 

“I love you Freddie, but she’s been everything to us, to you, and you broke her heart...” 

“Why do I have to be the one to make things better?” Fred scowled. “Dont act like you can’t reach out either,” 

George’s eyes lit up with an untold secret and a sly smile worked it’s way onto his face. “I have, actually,” He admitted with pride. “We get tea, you know the place, every other week,” 

Fred’s eyebrows scrunched together in the center of his forehead as he thought of George sitting across from you with tea in your hands. Did you still blow on the tea before every sip in the hopes you wouldn’t burn your tongue? Did you still trace the patterns on the teacups because you found them pretty? Did you still try to give mock lessons about the grounds in the bottom of your cup like you did after you’d grown tired of Trelawney’s  classes? 

“H-how is she?” He asked, sitting up in his chair as it groaned beneath him. 

“You’d know if you checked her letters,” George pointed out, tossing one of the neatly addressed envelopes into his brother’s lap. “She asks about you a lot, but she also tries to hear it from you. It breaks her heart that you’re shutting her out like this...” 

“She’s better off-” 

“Without you?” George scoffed. “Being a fool is a part of you and me but I didn’t think you were daft Freddie,” 

Fred frowned that same frown that seemed to take up more time on his face than his smiles did and it hurt George to see how his injury and PTSD from the war had changed him. Fred was still a child at heart and George knew it but he had aged incredibly fast in the past few months. It had been two years since the war but something had happened and it was like a switch went off. 

“We were doing so well,” George explained, kneeling before his brother, hands gripping the arm rests. “All three of us... What happened that ended all of that? What happened to you?” George begged softly with Fred. His brother’s pain was his, yet it seemed Fred was determined to shut him out.

Fred stared at the wacky pattern of his neat slacks, not knowing what to say. What could he say? He was worried about your safety because one night you’d woken him from a nightmare and he’d thought you were a death eater? That he’d held his wand to your throat and it had taken him crucial minutes to realize that it was you? That he’d left you crying in your bed while he laid on the couch unable to sleep? That the very next day he’d broken up with you, forced you out of the apartment? 

“Right after you were injured... and the months following- Y/N she never gave up on you. Even when you wouldn’t wake up, even when mom started to lose hope. Even when they wondered whether it’d be better to take your leg. Y/N knew what she was signing up for and she stayed Fred.  She never gave up on you. So why did you give up on her?” 

“I’m going to bed,” Fred decided. The questions were too much and the guilt was much worse. When George called his name in exasperation, he shut the door a little louder than he normally would. 

--

George found you sitting in your spot, already sipping at your tea. When you found him coming your way you gave him a grin and waved him over, pointing to the drink you’d already ordered for him. 

“In a rush?” George asked, lowering himself into the booth seat across from you. You shrugged, a gentle flush coloring your cheeks. “I have some...news. Thought it might be nice if we could get right to it without being interrupted,” 

George’s brow wrinkled and he fixed you with a long stare. “Everything okay?” His stomach was immediately in knots. He didn’t like surprises, hadn’t in ages. He loved surprising others but he didn’t respond very well to them himself. His mind kicked into overdrive when he wasn’t aware of something and his anxiety got the best of him. 

You reached forward, hand finding his as you gave him a reassuring smile. “Yes Georgie everything is fine. Everything is better than fine actually.” You grinned and it was the most radiant George had seen you since you and Freddie had ended things. “I’ve found someone,” 

George didn’t mean to choke on his tea, but how else was he supposed to react to such news? He hadn’t even known you’d been dating! “Wow!” He settled on, still trying to gather his bearings. He’d be lying if he said he hadn’t hoped you and Fred would fix things. “I’m happy for you,” 

And you knew he was. George was one of your best friends, and you wanted him to know that you were doing well. You’d only hesitate because you didn’t want him thinking he wasn’t happy with him, or Fred. You loved them both dearly, even if the latter refused to speak with you. “He’s so great,” You gushed. 

“When do I get to meet the guy? I think he needs the Weasley stamp of approval first,” George pretended to look stern and tough but he couldn’t quite manage it. You smiled and he did too. George liked seeing you happy, no matter who it was with. 

You wrinkled your nose. “I don’t want to scare him off so meeting him might have to wait a while...” 

George scoffed playfully. “You’re embarrassed of lil ol’ me?” His mind twirled about for a moment longer and he felt more subdued when he asked, “Are you going to tell Fred?” 

“I-I... Well I don’t know,” You answered honestly, biting your thumbnail as a server came over and offer a refill which you gladly accepted. “Do you think he’d even care? The guy, he’s a muggle and well, I just don’t know when is a good time to introduce him to anyone, let alone my two- my only best friend,” You sighed, feeling glum.

Could you consider Fred your friend? You had no ill feelings towards him, you understood the war had changed him in a way you couldn’t understand. Your relationship had been a casualty of the last battle and you had come to terms with it. That didn’t mean you had come to terms with losing him completely. You wanted to be close to him like how you and George were. 

“Y/N, he cares,” George squeezed your hand, understanding where your mind was wondering. Suddenly he perked up. Why hadn’t he thought of this before?” “Come ‘round for dinner this Sunday, yeah? I’ll talk to him,” 

George could sense your hesitation, and you were very hesitant, but you knew that you’d have to see him. You wanted to see him for Merlin’s sake! You just thought he’d have answered one of your letters by now. 

“Alright,” You tried to smile. “Sunday then,” The things you did for George. 

--

“Y/N’s in a relationship,” Was the first thing George announced upon coming home and Fred didn’t think he’d heard his twin right. 

“With who?” Fred asked, sitting up straighter in his seat. “I mean that’s great! But still, who?” 

George shrugged, tossing his jacket over the back of the recliner Fred was seated in. Fred swatted it away onto the ground. “Don’t know. Some muggle guy, I guess,” 

Fred thought for a long second. Would you be happy with a muggle? You adored magic and the magical world, would a non magical partner be the best for you? He supposed if the muggle took it well then it didn’t matter... “Is she happy?” Fred asked, standing on quaking legs as George busied himself with tidying the kitchen. 

George paused in his busy work and looked to his brother, a smile playing at his lips. “Yeah Freddie, happier than I’ve seen since- y’ know,” It hurt, but not as much as Fred thought it would. It was good to know you were happy. Fred cared a great deal about you but he had laid awake for endless nights wondering what would become of you two if he looked at your letters and replied. Maybe you two would have gotten back together if he’d done it months ago but now he didn’t know. Now, he wasn’t sure what he wanted from you. For starters, he wanted to see you.

“She’s coming for dinner Sunday night,” George suddenly declared. 

“What?!” Fred stumbled over his feet for a moment, taken off guard. Yes he wanted to see you, but that didn’t mean he was ready to!

“It’s been forever!” George whined. “I want my two best friends back. I don’t care if you’re dating or not... I just want you to be friends again,” 

Fred pinched the bridge of his nose and let out a long sigh. “Alright, Sunday is fine,” The things he did for his brother.

--

You stood in the shop with sweating palms while George finished up the grunt work before locking the doors. He’d sent Fred up earlier to check on dinner and so you would be a bit more comfortable upon arriving. 

“You can go up if you want,” George commented as he tossed the last few sickles from the register into the safe for the night. 

“That’s alright,” you deflected, looking around the joke shop that you hadn’t been in since Fred had broken up with you. It was bittersweet being back. There were a lot of good memories and a few not so great ones. If you could go back... You weren’t sure you’d change anything. You loved Fred, that was true, but somewhere along the line you’d realized that you two had done your time and you simply weren’t meant to be. That didn’t make it any easier being here, however. 

“I’ve finished up, do you want me to go up first?” George asked, wrapping his arm around your shoulder so he could rub your arm. 

“That’d be great,” You smiled as George took the lead. You ran your hand up the railing as you went, relaxing at the familiarity of it. 

When you got upstairs you were met by a sight that had you gnawing on your lip in an effort to keep your laughter bottled up. Fred was surrounded by a few pots, which were all boiling quite violently, and a steady stream of smoke was beginning to rise from the stove. The windows were open but it did nothing to mask the smell of burnt food.

“I leave you alone for ten minutes-” George began, rushing to Fred’s side. 

“That was your first mistake!” The frustrated boy interrupted and you rolled your eyes as you tried to fight your smile. You shooed them to the side and turned off all the burners, opened the stove and turned it off. You removed everything from the heat and tossed them into the sink, the water from the faucet sizzling and popping against the extremely hot pots and pans. 

When all was said and done you stared at Fred with an amused grin. “How have you been managing without me?” 

“A mystery to us all,” George lamented. “Guess that means we’re getting take out?” 

--

Fred admired your constant calm, it was what had drawn him to you in the first place. He was always going, always laughing, always doing something. You, on the other hand were happy to just relax and take in the moment. You looked before you leapt and Fred needed someone like that in his life. You’d always been the reminder to slow down and he appreciated that as he watched you take care of his kitchen blunder. 

“Alright?” George asked, nodding to Fred as you all gathered at the table to eat the food he’d ordered. Fred found it hard to answer with your eyes on him. Especially when they drifted to the pile of letters that had been cleared off the table and now remained on their coffee table. 

“Y-yeah, thanks,” He tried to swallow the lump in his throat. “So! Y/N, how’s the new boy toy?” 

“Fred-” George began but Fred held his hands up in surrender. 

“I’m just curious! Really, I just want to know how you’re doing,” Fred looked you in the eye for the first time that night and you seemed suspicious of him for a minute before you seemed to realize he was being genuine. Your shoulders drooped in relief.

“I’m doing well and Marcus is really great,” You smiled softly, thinking of your boyfriend. “He’s been a nice reminder that there is magic in the world- even for muggles.” 

George fake gagged and you smacked his arm, your smile not fading in the slightest. 

“And you? How have you been doing?” You asked. There were a million things you wanted to ask Fred but this seemed to be the safest option. 

George felt relieved when the two of you spoke politely. There was an underlying tension, from unanswered questions and a past that Fred had run away from, but other than that dinner was smooth sailing and he was glad that his idea hadn’t ended up in ruins even if it had started off rocky with the burned dinner. 

“This has been lovely,” He announced, setting his napkin on his plate as he stood, walking to your chair so he could press a kiss to your cheek. “But I am exhausted, have a good night Y/N,” 

Fred looked panicked but George sent him a pointed glare. Talk to her!

“Goodnight Georgie,” You gulped and watched as your mediator vanished to his bedroom.

Fred took a steadying breath. “Want a drink?” 

--

“Did you mean to forget me?” You asked after three strong drinks and Fred shoved himself deeper into the recliner. You were sitting quite stiffly on the couch, a throw pillow in your lap. You fiddled with the tassles for a second before taking another swallow of your drink.  

“I never forgot-” Fred started.

“You never wrote me,” You interrupted. “Are you afraid to lose me?”

Fred narrowed his eyes and you blew a piece of your hair out of your eyes. He seemed to be reprimanding you for interrupting him. You thought you had the right to ask questions, he had been avoiding you for months after all. “I figured I’d already done a pretty good job of losing you after I’d kicked you out... George didn’t talk to me for a week after that. Then you started sending letters and I just felt so damn guilty I couldn’t bring myself to read them, still havent’,” 

“Clearly,” You remarked, topping off your glass and then his. 

“Y/N,” Fred sighed. “What do you want me to say?” 

You shrugged. “I don’t know... I don’t mean to seem bitter. I really am happy right now, I just still have a lot of hurt from how things ended between us I guess,” 

“I admit that I probably handled it the worst way possible,” Fred conceded. “All I could think about was how scared you looked and how I didn’t want you to ever feel fear like that again. I’ve been seeing someone to help me work through all the damage the war did and it helps but George wakes me from nightmares still and I haven’t stopped lashing out. I care about you a lot, that hasn’t changed, but I think the way I care about you has- if that makes sense,” 

Fred was rambling a bit, but you understood what he was saying and where it was all coming from. You had been scared shitless that night, no matter how many times you’d reassured him it was you he hadn’t seemed to understand that until George had been woken from his sleep and calmed his brother enough that he could come back to reality. It hadn’t been a deal breaker, but Fred had made it clear you weren’t going to be coming back. 

“It does... I feel the same.” You agreed, running your fingertip along the rim of your glass as you avoided looking at Fred. “I was mad at you, did you know that? Not because what happened, but because it didn’t seem to matter all we’d been through- you just kicked me out and didn’t speak to me again... I wouldn’t be here right now if George hadn’t done something,” 

“That isn’t-” 

“True? Fred please, I know you better than you want me to. I know you arent thrilled, I’m not either... But I am glad this is happening. We need to talk about this. George is right about wanting his friends back because I want my friend back too,” 

Fred lit up a little bit. “You want to be friends? Do you think we could? Can you still love me?" 

You stood and Fred followed. You grabbed the hand that wasn’t gripping his cane and squeezed affectionately. “I don’t know,” You answered honestly. “But I do still love you, even if that love has changed. You’re an idiot Fred but you’re my kind of idiot and I’d like for us to be friends again” 

He smiled a smile that reminded you of when you two had been in school, running around and getting into trouble with hands linked together and hearts beating in unison. It was a smile that gave you hope that you two could be friends again and that the past would simply stay put. 

“I’d like that too,” Fred pulled you into a hug and you could feel him leaning against you as he let himself relax for the first time all night. 

The spark between you was gone, no fireworks to be had when you brushed your hands together or made eye contact. Despite that, there was still a glowing ember in the fire of your friendship and as you two embraced and healed old wounds it grew brighter, igniting once again.

It was good to have your friend back. 

Tag List: @angelinathebook @thehumanistsdiary @cleopatera 

Requester (is that a word?): @slytherinlovesgryffindor

[fanfictionaries]

Oh So Many Years: Ch. 4 - I’m Alive

Pairing: Hermione Granger x Fred Weasley

Summary:

The tournament has been announced! Hermione expresses some conflicted feelings, and Fred and George make a harrowing discovery.

Warnings: Swearing, Death, Smut/18+ NSFW

Author’s Note: I will now be updating this story every week before midnight on Sundays (US MST)! Please feel free to like, comment, and reblog! xoxo

Masterlist

<< Chapter 3

If I should break My silent streak Will knives come out To cut my cheek?

  Hermione couldn’t help the swell of pride in her chest at Fred’s acknowledgement of being bested. Truly, it wasn’t a thing to be proud of. There was no joy in winning a game amongst idiots. What was the muggle phrase again? Play stupid games, win stupid prizes? Either way, the last thing she ever expected to fill her with smug glee was Frederick Weasley’s approval. No. She shook her head. It wasn’t his approval that made her feel this way. It was the glorious relief of getting the prat to shut up once again, that’s what it was. But if that were true, then why was her mind drifting back to last night’s conversation and the gentle banter the two shared? She felt it then too. The glowing sense of satisfaction that he not only approved of her mental prowess when it came to the art of repartee, but that he also found amusement in it.

Unable to ponder on the thought for long, she turned her attention to Dumbledore as he announced for the year’s sorting to begin. Hermione watched as the group of frightened first years filed into the Great Hall; their eyes wide with wonder. She remembered her first moment seeing the magnificence of Hogwarts. No amount of reading had prepared her for all that the school had to offer. The sorting went by quickly, Hermione clapping and cheering politely when one of the new students joined their table. Some students, especially the Gryffindor students, got quite into the sorting, seeing it as some competition. Hermione was all for house pride, but she really didn’t see it necessary to boo when a child was placed in Slytherin or laugh when placed in Hufflepuff. Glaring over at Ron, Harry, and the Weasley twins, Hermione wished they would conduct themselves with a bit more civility. Honestly, the school could do with more house unity in her opinion. Still, they acquired quite a fair number of new Gryffindors, including the Collin Creevey’s little brother who was already gawking at Harry like he was some kind of god.

Hermione snorted. She imagined they wouldn’t feel that way if they ever had to help him with his Astronomy homework.

Once the sorting ceremony was over, Dumbledore stood up again, his midnight blue robes sparkling with silver stars. Hermione always secretly wondered where he got his robes. They were the most ornate and intricate pieces she’d ever observed in the wizarding world. Surely, they didn’t sell them anywhere in Diagon Alley. At least, she never saw anything quite like them in Madame Malkin’s shop. Perhaps Twilfitt and Tatting’s. She watched as their headmaster adjusted his half-moon spectacles and cleared his throat.

“Good evening and welcome back to another fantastic year at Hogwarts. I would like to begin with a few announcements. First, as many of you know, the forest on the grounds is strictly prohibited to all students. Second, the wizarding village of Hogsmeade is also off limits to students below their third year or for those without permi—” Dumbledore was cut off by a loud crack of thunder and the groan of the large Great Hall doors opening. All heads turned towards the entrance, confused by the sudden interruption. What they found was a short and stalky man standing haggardly as the heavy wooden door closed behind him. A sense of unease washed across Hermione as she watched him enter the hall slowly. His long, patched robes hung heavy on him, dripping water onto the floor as he limped towards the head table. He leaned heavily on a thick, wooden staff and grunted with every step. Wet, tangled grey hair hung in his face – a face marred with thick and grotesque scars. But it wasn’t the grueling number of scars that unsettled her. It was his eyes. One eye was small, dark, and beady, while the other was a striking blue that never seemed to stop moving. It swiveled around in all directions, never focusing on one spot for long as he kept his pace towards the headmaster. As he approached, Dumbledore smiled unfazed. They shook hands briefly across the table in a familiar manner before the mysterious wizard limped to take a seat at the spot usually reserved for the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher.

“What good timing my old friend, I was just about to introduce you!” Dumbledore exclaimed delightfully. “This year, the Defense Against the Dark Arts position will be filled by a very dear friend of mine, Alastor Moody. Alastor?” Dumbledore motioned to the scraggly man. Moody stood and gave a curt nod to the mass of students. A spatter of confused, yet polite applause greeted him. Hermione stared at the man speculatively. She had read about Alastor Moody. Some called him Mad-Eye Moody, which observing him now, she could see why the nickname was appointed. A famous auror and dark wizard catcher, he was renowned for his part in catching most of the known Death Eaters currently in Azkaban. However, over the past few years he had become known for his increasing paranoia. If the rumors were true, Hermione wondered if he was truly qualified to be teaching young children.

“Right! Lastly, I have the unfortunate duty of informing you that our annual Inter-House Quidditch Cup will not be taking place this year,” announced Dumbledore. His announcement was met with numerous cries of outrage from the tables of students. Some of which were most loudly emanating from Oliver Wood down the table. Hermione frowned sadly in his direction before looking to Harry and Ron who seemed equally as devastated but more entirely confused. While Hermione was disappointed for them, she couldn’t help but feel a small jolt of glee. At least she wouldn’t have to spend hours in the cold watching Harry try to kill himself on a broom.

“This is due to a very special opportunity—” Dumbledore went on “—Over the coming months, our school has the honor hosting an event that hasn’t taken place in over a century. It is my pleasure to announce that Hogwarts will be home to the Triwizard Tournament!”

“You’re joking!” Fred Weasley exclaimed, his voice ringing loud through the hall. Hermione turned to glare at him for his incredibly rude outburst, but ultimately rolled her eyes when the entirety of the hall began to laugh, including Dumbledore himself.

“No, Mr. Weasley, I am not joking,” the headmaster stated before continuing to inform them all on the history of the Triwizard Tournament. Hermione of course, knew all about the tournament. There was a whole section in Hogwarts, a History dedicated to the event. While the competition was a great opportunity for selected students to show off their magical abilities, it was also quite dangerous. In fact, the whole reason the tournament hadn’t taken place in centuries was because of the overt amount of deaths it resulted in. She warried a glance at Harry across the table. This was exactly the kind of thing he would find himself mixed up in.

“I’m going for it!” she heard Fred whisper down the table. Rolling her eyes, she doubted he had half the knowledge and strength it took to win something as monumental as the Triwizard Tournament. As Dumbledore went on, the hall became restless. Student voices, excitedly discussing the tournament and all it had to offer, soon rose in volume that Hermione deemed quite inappropriate.

“Now, now, I know all of you are understandably eager to participate and win the Triwizard Cup for Hogwarts—” lamented Dumbledore “—however, as one of the compromises made in order to bring the tournament back, myself, the heads of the participating schools, and the Ministry of Magic have all agreed to place an age restriction on this year’s event. Only students seventeen and older will be allowed to enter their names for the Triwizard Tournament. This, is something that we feel is necessary as the tasks will be incredibly difficult and will require the education and experience of older witches and wizards, to complete.”

Hermione gave a great sigh of relief at this revelation. Thank Merlin. That fact alone meant everyone she knew at Hogwarts personally was safe. Even Fred and George weren’t seventeen yet. However, looking around at the disappointed and even angry faces at her table, showed that only she was happy about the rule change. She didn’t let their disappointment ruin her mood though. Instead she listened contentedly, until next thing she knew, her was done and dinner was served.

Dinner went by uneventfully, conversation filled laments of summer trips, general gossip, and theorizing about the upcoming tournament. Hermione was thoroughly stuffed by the time the tables were magically cleared and their group departed back to Gryffindor Common room. Hermione trailed behind Harry and Ron as they walked with the twins through the halls, thinking about her classes the next day when George’s voice broke her concentration.

“You know, Freddie, I reckon we could find a way to get past whatever Dumbledore will use to enforce the age restriction,” George said enthusiastically.

“How do you suppose they’ll pick to decide who gets in or not?” Harry asked. Hermione thought that was quite a good question. In her reading, it was never explicitly stated how the competitors were chosen. It simply stated that they were.

“No idea, but it’ll be them that we have to fool—” stated Fred, his chest puffing in confidence “—I think a few drops of aging potion should do the trick.”

“But Dumbledore knows you aren’t old enough,” Ron piped up as they made their way back to the Gryffindor common room.

“Yes, but whoever is deciding doesn’t. It seems to me that they’ll just choose whoever is best from each school. Dumbledore is just trying to stop us from getting our names in is all,” George replied to his younger brother.

“And you two aren’t the least bit concerned that people have died in this competition before?” Hermione inquired, feeling irritation bubbling up below her calm façade.

“Not a bit,” the pair responded with cheeky grins.

Fred and George’s response irked Hermione quite terribly. Were they really that immune to the idea of potential imminent death? Fred definitely wasn’t – no matter what he said. She knew that for certain just from her memories of the Quidditch World Cup. He had been just as afraid as her, she saw it on his face. That fact alone gave her comfort when she continued to endure the agonizing nightmares revolving around that night. Rubbing at her eyes, she cursed at just how bloody tired she was. When she nodded off in the Weasley kitchen that night sitting across from Fred, it had been the first peaceful sleep she’d had in weeks. Unfortunately, the peace did not last long, for as soon as her head hit the pillow in Ginny’s room the nightmares were back again. However, the comforting thought that she had not been the only person scared and panicked that night reassured her that she was not overreacting. Even though everyone had all but forgotten the events of the Quidditch World Cup. Hermione wanted to forget as well.

“Well if Fred and George figure out a way to enter their names, I want in,” said Ron as they sat in the common room. Upon entering the tower, Fred and George made swift exits to their room, most likely to start on their idiotic aging potion idea. It wasn’t going to work, Hermione knew that, but she doubted anything she said to them would get through their thick skulls.

“You most definitely will not Ronald Weasley!” Hermione scolded the freckle-faced boy sitting across from her in front of the fire. He rolled his eyes at her, ignoring her objection.

“Oh, come on Hermione. Everyone knows the age limit is insulting. Us three have faced loads of dark magic already. Especially Harry! You don’t think he’s capable of winning a silly little competition? Tell her Harry!” Ron looked over at Harry for support, but all the bespectacled boy could manage was a conflicted expression before Hermione responded.

“I think Harry has faced enough life-threatening situations for a lifetime, thank you very much. I’d rather you two lose the opportunity of fame and fortune, than risk your necks again. To do so would just be stupid. No one can evade death forever!” Hermione rose from her seat and stormed out, leaving the two boys to gawk at her retreating form.

Hermione huffed and puffed about her room, slamming books down and pulling on her sleep clothes more aggressively than usual. The other girls in the room continued their babble, paying her no mind as they were too engulfed in whatever the latest gossip was to care about her bad mood. She crawled into bed and drew the curtains closed, blocking out all the light from her roommates Pavarti, Lavender, and Fey. Closing her eyes, she willed herself to sleep – to block out all the frustrations of the day and to most importantly not have nightmares. Truth be told, she shouldn’t be so upset at Ron. It was all trivial. In the end, the twins would never figure out how to enter their names into the tournament and thus neither would Ron nor Harry. This might end up being a perfectly normal year after all. There was no magical item with the ability to keep one alive forever taking up residence in the castle; there couldn’t possibly be a second mysterious chamber hidden under the school housing a deadly snake; and there wasn’t an escaped Azkaban prisoner seemingly attempting to murder her best friend – that she knew of. No, this year they would be the spectators. They would watch as three experienced and skilled students, they were not close to, risk their lives in the tournament. Maybe a Ravenclaw or a Slytherin would compete for Hogwarts. Whoever it was, it wouldn’t be them and they would watch from the stands, getting a thrill from the entertainment. Then they would return to the common room, talking about who they thought would win. They would study hard and pass their classes. They would end the year happy and safe, and looking forward to the next year.

Everyone would be safe, happy, and together.

    No, no, no. This couldn’t be happening. It had to be there. It had to! Fred tore through his trunk again, this time physically removing the items one by one and throwing them onto the dormitory floor around him. However, much to his dismay, he reached the bottom empty handed. Standing abruptly, he rushed over to George’s trunk and began to do the same. He was halfway through its contents when his brother came in, followed closely by Lee Jordan and Kenneth Towler.

“Oi, Freddie, mind telling me why you’re scrounging through my personal things?” George asked, staring down at his brother with a curious gaze.

“It’s gone,” Fred answered gravely, continuing to tear through George’s trunk.

“What’s gone?” asked Lee, hopping over the growing pile of things on the floor and landing clumsily on his bed.

“I swear I just saw it the other day and now it’s gone Georgie!” exclaimed Fred in a panic, sitting back on his heels when he, once again, reached the baren bottom of the trunk.

Towler sighed, walking through the mess, and placing his school bag down next to his neatly made bed. Airily he pulled out a few textbooks and laid down before remarking, “I always knew one of you would lose it. Personally, I always thought it would be George.”

George cast an unamused expression in Towler’s direction before crouching down next to his obviously distressed twin. “Get ahold of yourself mate—” George shook him roughly “—just tell me what’s going on.”

“The money!” yelled Fred, breaking away from George’s hold and moving to his wardrobe. “It’s gone! I’ve looked everywhere for it and it’s gone. Last I checked it was in our money pouch and now it’s not there.”

“Wait. You don’t mean the money we won, do you?” George asked, rushing to Fred’s side, and grabbing him by the arm. He pulled him roughly, forcing Fred to cease his search and face his twin. Fred swelled with irritation. He didn’t have time for this. He needed to find the missing galleons. Fred didn’t need to respond for George to know that it was, in fact, the money they won from their bet at the world cup. George’s eyes widened in disbelief and then, he too began to tare wildly through his wardrobe, all the while chanting a desperate mumble of “No, it’s impossible.”

“Two hundred galleons do not just up and walk away Freddie!” cried George, abandoning his wrecked wardrobe, and lying flat on his belly to look under their beds.

“Where on earth did you two get two hundred galleons?!” asked Lee incredulously. He sat up in his bed, showing a larger interest at the mention of money the two had seemed to misplace.

Fred sighed, sinking to the floor, and leaning against the open door of his wardrobe. Closing his eyes tightly, he banged the back of his head against the wood as he tried to think.

“We won it,” answered George, now pulling back the covers on his bed.

Fred smirked sadistically, knowing it was a lost cause. He already checked there.

“Won it?” asked Lee again, clearly both confused and impressed.

“Yeah, we bet our dads friend all our money and a bloody fake wand that Krum would catch the snitch, but Ireland would win—” Fred rubbed his eyes with the heels of his palms in frustration “—he was pretty surprised when we were right, but he paid us. We’ve had the money locked up in my trunk ever since. We were going to use it to upstart our business.”

‘Were’, was the important part of that sentence, thought Fred. Now without the money, he had no clue how they would fund their business after school. They could get jobs he supposed. He and George could work in a shop and save up until they had enough. It wasn’t the worst scenario, but merlin, it wasn’t what they imagined.

“Well I didn’t touch it,” said Lee, holing his hands up to signify his innocence.

“You couldn’t have taken it even if you wanted to,” said Fred. “I put so many wards on my trunk, you’d think I was trying to keep Dumbledore himself out.”

“It has to be here somewhere Freddie. Are you sure you didn’t take the money pouch out for something and then, I don’t know, leave it somewhere?”

Fred looked at his brother in irritation before snapping, “Actually now that you mention it, just the other day I was sitting on my bed and I thought ‘Gee, you know what would be an excellent idea? Taking two hundred galleons for a bloody walk.’ Of course, I didn’t take it out for anything! What do you take me for, Georgie?”

“I’m sorry, you’re right. That was a stupid question. I just don’t understand what could have happened to it.”

“This friend of your dads, he wouldn’t happen to be Ludo Bagman, would he?” asked Towler from his bed, nose currently buried in his transfiguration textbook.

Fred and George froze, so still they could have easily been mistaken for victims of a well-placed body bind curse. They looked at their second roommate with suspicion.

“Why?” the two questioned in unison, staring hard at the sandy-haired boy.

“My dad says he’s a real bilker. He’s always making bets and never paying up – still owes my dad two galleons and seven sickles from a game of cards almost a year ago,” said Towler, looking back at his book with a bored expression.

Fred took a moment to process his words. Kenneth Towler was many things: swotty, boring, killjoy to name a few, but he wasn’t a liar. So that meant if he said Ludo Bagman was a renowned cheat, then it was probably true. Still though, he had paid them the money. Almost immediately even. If he was constantly broke, then where did he come up with the galleons to pay them off? Unless…

George seemed to have the same thought he did because it was his turn to sink to the floor in abject horror.

“Leprechaun gold,” they said in distraught realization.

It was the only possible explanation, thought Fred. While possessing the exact same features as a wizarding galleon, leprechaun gold had one little thing about it that made it unique – it vanished after twenty-four hours. Fred cursed under his breath, standing, and beginning to place his things back into his trunk.

“Of course that slimy git would try to con us out of our well-deserved money. We should have known!” exclaimed George, throwing his hands in the air.

“Maybe it was a mistake,” Lee offered kindly.

Fred and George snorted, “That’s likely.”

“Well it never hurts to make sure,” said Lee, taking off his shoes and kicking their things out of the way as he shuffled to his wardrobe to pull out his sleep clothes.

“He’s got a point Georgie,” said Fred, pausing his cleaning to grab parchment, a quill, and his ink bottle from the ground.

Dear Mr. Bagman,

Fred and George Weasley here! We’re sure you remember us from the world cup. We were the two incredibly dashing twins that won all that money off you.

Speaking of the money, it seems there was a slight mistake and you paid us in leprechaun money instead of real money.

We’re sure it was just an innocent error on your part and therefore would hold no ill-will against you as long as you respond to this letter with the amount in full.

Sincerely,

Fred and George Weasley

Founders of Weasley’s Wizarding Wheezes

Fred penned the letter as George stood over his shoulder reading aloud and making suggestions. When they were satisfied with the tone and contents of their letter, Fred folded it neatly and placed it inside an envelope, addressing it to Ludo Bagman, Head of the Department of Magical Games and Sports at the Ministry of Magic.

“Do you suppose we have enough time to make it to the owlery before curfew?” Fred asked, kicking the rest of his things out of the way, and pulling on his shoes.

Kenneth Towler snorted rudely from his bed, “When have you two ever cared about curfew?”

“He makes a fair point Freddie. Come on, let’s go then.”

“Oi! Aren’t you two going to clean up your mess?” Lee shouted at them as they made their way to the door.

The twins yelled a shifty “Maybe” over their shoulders as they exited the dormitory and made their way down the stairs to the common room.

Fred held tightly to the letter, hoping against all hope that it was all just a big misunderstanding. Perhaps Ludo had been a bilker in the past, but recently changed his ways. Perhaps he had every intention of paying them in full. Perhaps he’d be embarrassed upon opening the letter and realizing his mistake. Perhaps George would sprout a tail overnight and he would shit out a pig.

Still, it was worth a try. Not only were they short the two hundred galleons Ludo owed them, but they were also down the 37 galleons, 15 sickles, and three knuts they originally gave him for the bet. It was all the money they had to their name. They needed that money. Fred rubbed a hand through his hair and gripped it tightly at the roots behind his left ear. He honestly didn’t know how it would all turn out, but one thing became apparently clear as they reached the owlery.

If Ludo Bagman didn’t give them the money he owed them, then it was more important than ever that they get their names into the Goblet of Fire and have their chance at the prize money.

Chapter 5 >>

Taglist:

@theworldisugly-22

[ickle-ronniekins]

everything and more, part III

hi loves, here’s part tres for everything and more featuring your (two) favorite redhead(s) ! sorry if this is sad

A/N: also, if you’d like to conjure more emotion whilst reading this, listen to find me in the river by kj app + jj heller from the movie i still believe—it will seriously fuck you up lol

tag list for fred: @mintlibri @seppys-return-to-madness @fopdoodledane @fredd-weasley @iprobablyshipit91 @how-do-life-does @semmelsemi @perksofbeingawf @cottageoflove

other: @gwenandtheunfortunatename @bbystrawberry0421 @valwritesx

PART I | PART II | EVERYTHING AND MORE

1997, Fall

You both had come a long way since school.

That young boy and girl felt so far away.

What happened to them?

Downstairs, Fred was helping George close up the shop. You peered out the window of your apartment and the dark clouds seemed to be swallowing the little town whole.

Things were different. The unknown was scary. You and Fred had been forced to grow up sooner than you’d wanted too.

You glanced at the pile of papers upon the desk in the bedroom.

The Daily Prophet was going absolutely wild with all of these stories and accusations.

Molly Weasley spent most of her evenings crying in agony.

So did you.

What happened to the sixteen year old girl who floated around the castle, not having a care in the world? Besides studying, of course. What happened to the boy that she loved—carefree and wild and happy-go-lucky? Sometimes, it seemed like he was gone.

Fred begrudgingly shut off the lights in the shop, taking the stairs one by one, very slowly. George had left for the Burrow, so it was just the two of you alone tonight. You’d been fighting more often than not. Things didn’t feel the same. They weren’t, of course.

“You need to stay and work with the Prophet. They need you! I don’t want you getting hurt! It’s too dangerous!”

“I don’t care about the bloody Prophet—I’m coming with you! Would you get it through your thick head already? I’m staying with you!”

There was a twinge of guilt in Fred’s heart as he thought on those arguments—too many to count on two hands, when he looked back. They were more frequent than not. He peered at the door, taking a few moments to just stand in front of your home before he entered. He was tired and sad, but most of all, he was more frightened than he’d ever been in his entire life.

He opened the door slowly, and he saw you in one of his button down shirts, singing something off key whilst making dinner underneath the pale yellow kitchen light. You smiled at him—perching your glasses on your nose and winking before pulling him into you.

No, wait. That couldn’t be right. He was daydreaming, longing for that. His eyes eventually adjusted to the scene in front of him. You were standing in the middle of the living space in the dull desk light, hurriedly scribbling something down on a piece of parchment, desperate to get this piece finished by midnight in just a few hours time.

“Still working?” he asked. No greeting. He felt guilt pull at his heart, but didn’t do anything to change it. He swallowed over a lump in his throat.

You looked up, wishing to be driven mad by his bright, toothy smile as he threw his suit jacket haphazardly over the couch and began unbuttoning his vest and shirt before chasing you into the bedroom, leaving dinner uneaten. But he stood near the door in the kitchen, running a hand through the back of his hair and placing his jacket on the coat hanger before turning on the tea kettle.

“Prophet’s going bonkers,” you told him, hardly looking up from the pile in your hands. “I’ll heat dinner in a moment. How’s the shop?”

“Business is dead lately,” Fred replied. “Not that I blame people. Wouldn’t want to be out during this madness, anyway.”

“Maybe it’ll pick up soon.”

“Love that enthusiasm of yours.”

At first you felt a surge of familiarity when you heard his sarcasm, expecting to see that silly smirk when you looked up. But instead you saw tired eyes and a clenched jaw as Fred pulled two teacups from the cabinet.

It seemed like it was only yesterday that Fred had told you he was leaving.

That he and his brother were opening something up in Diagon Alley.

It seemed like it was only yesterday that it was the first time you visited—a surprise, of course. Molly and Ginny kept you at the Burrow for a few days but didn’t say a word, so as not to make Fred suspicious. You were only in the store mere seconds, not even able to take everything in before he was teasing you and pulling you into a nearby closet, laughing playfully, desperate for your touch, even though it had only been a few months since graduation.

“Freddie—what’s gotten into you? Your brother is in the next room!”

“It’s been four months, darling—I’m not even going to try and resist you,”

You missed it desperately.

The whistle of the tea kettle pulled you back.

Fred was standing over it, letting the steam hit his skin. It was a few moments before he poured slowly. You watched him closely, examining his every movement. He was so tired.

He brought you a cup, smiling weakly at you before placing a featherlight kiss to your temple. You were supposed to be a couple in love—all over each other all the time, so cruciatingly, sickeningly in love—making everyone else second guess theirs, thinking, shouldn’t we be more like them? It seemed to all fade away once the impending war drew closer. Stress mixed with youth caused for a dangerous game, one you didn’t wish to play.

“Hungry?” you asked.

Fred turned to face you from the door of the bedroom. “It’s alright—I’ll fix myself a plate later. I know you’ve a lot of work to do, don’t want to interrupt. Have got to fix some malfunctions on a few products, anyway.”

You nodded guiltily before watching him offer a small grin before heading into the bedroom. Work had seemed to take over your entire life in the midst of all the chaos. He kept the door open—was it an invite? You didn’t know. You sat down at the desk instead, pulling at your hair and continuing to agonize over this article. You bit down on your lip so as not to cry.

Just a few feet away inside your room, Fred fought back tears as he fiddled around with perfectly in tune products for the shop. But you were so distracted, you wouldn’t be able to tell the difference, anyway.

1998, Late Winter/Early Spring

Instead of being covered in a glistening white blanket of snow, the Burrow looked rundown and forgotten. Surely spring was on it’s way and would brighten the place up a bit? You did your best to water the inside plants to perk them up, and began to brew a fresh pot of tea.

Mrs. Weasley came into the kitchen with a basket full of clean laundry.

“Here,” you said, handing her a teacup instead. “Let me help you. Take a rest.”

She’d been working herself to the bone nonstop. Normally, it was only you, Molly, and Ginny at the Burrow. Ron was God knows where with Harry and Hermione, Fred and George were at the shop, Percy and Bill and Arthur at work.

A few weeks prior, Fred had told you how worried he was that his mother didn’t look well, and wanted someone to check in on her more. It was almost a perfect opportunity, to spend some time away from one another—not that you wanted to, but it was becoming necessary. The fighting turned into monotone conversations about work, war, work, war. Nothing else was exchanged. Kisses were few and far between. You promised to stay at the Burrow a few days each week, looking after Mrs. Weasley and Ginny. Fred was grateful.

“Thank you, dear,” she said, taking a much needed rest on the couch. You sat down next to her.

You smiled softly and began to fold the laundry.

The silence between you both was comfortable, something you very much enjoyed about your relationship with Molly. It was never forced, and didn’t need to be. It was that way from the first day you met her all those years ago.

“D’you really...think we’ll be alright?” you asked suddenly when you found your voice. “After this war, I mean.”

“Oh, of course,” Mrs. Weasley said, but her eyes spoke differently. She was always telling the young ones different things, so as not to worry all of you. But with you, it was different. It always had been. She said she saw some sort of maturity in you, and didn’t mind being honest. She hesitated before confiding, “but I am very, very worried.”

“Me, too.”

She smiled weakly at you and placed a hand over yours. “About the war, dear?” she asked, and immediately, the tears began to well up in your eyes. “Or about Fred?”

Since the day you’d met, Molly had been like a second mother—taking you in under her wing, treating you as a daughter no matter what—which was comforting, especially during this time when you were far away from your family. You’d been crying yourself to sleep nearly every evening—whether it was at your desk, or as silently as you could next to Fred in your bedroom while he slept soundfully, or alone in the office, writing away while he was busy in the shop. And Fred was so sad and spread to thin as well, that he hadn’t even noticed. You choked on a loud cry and fell into Molly’s shoulder, sobbing violently. Like it had been pent up for so long, and was now bursting at the seams.

“Shh,” she told you quietly, running a hand over your hair. “It’s alright.” She had a bit of a hitch to her voice, and you knew she was trying everything in her power to hold it together for you in that moment. You squeezed her hand in gratefulness. You knew Fred had confided in her about your constant arguing, because you’d done the same, and she didn’t seem all that surprised when you told her. “You’re all so young to be dealing with so much.” She was right. You didn’t want to be worrying about a war every single bloody minute of everyday. It was taking a toll on everyone around you. “But pride, it’s...an awful thing. Just terrible.”

You knew that, but hearing it from Molly made all the difference. You barely even remembered what you and Fred had been arguing about. Stupid things, silly things. Which then turned into arguments about the war, and fighting in it. You can’t, he’d told you, you need to stay with Mum and Ginny. You’d fired back that you could do anything he could.

But she was right.

Molly pressed a kiss to your cheek before muttering, “Don’t let it pull you apart from the ones you love.”

Diagon Alley was desolate. It was extremely unnerving, a sight you wish you could unsee.

You weren’t surprised to see the lights in the shop off so early.

Nervously, you made your way upstairs.

When you walked into the apartment, Fred was sitting at the kitchen table, hovering over bills and paperwork and things. It aged him. You sighed at the sight. He looked up at you.

“Hi,” you said, your voice sounding broken. You cleared your throat and then asked, “You look exhausted. Have you eaten?”

“Hi. Erm, no,” he replied with a faint smile. “I was waiting for you. I figured we could whip something up together.”

You felt a twinge of guilt, but appreciated his patience. “‘M sorry I’m late, was having a chat with your mum.”

“She alright?”

“Yes,” you replied, placing a hand to his cheek. “Took some much needed rest.”

You began to pull ingredients out of the pantry and refrigerator to begin cooking something, and Fred did the same. You both fell into a comfortable silence as you worked. The kitchen warmed up, the chopping sound of the ingredients keeping you grounded and in the moment.

But still, your mind liked to wander.

At one point, Fred pointed to the countertop and said, “Chives and bacon?”

You stared at him. “But of course, it’s delicious—”

He let out a genuine laugh for the first time in...you didn’t even know how long. And it reminded you of when you’d first moved in together.

“You can’t put chocolate chips and blueberries in,”

“Well, why not?” you’d asked.

Fred snorted. Morning sunlight was flooding the kitchen. “Because, that’s—strange. It’s one or the other. You can’t possibly tell me that tastes good.”

You pressed a light kiss to his lips. “You haven’t had my pancakes yet, love. They’re delicious.”

“I’m holding you to that.”

But you hadn’t even gotten to breakfast that morning. Not until way later, when the pancake batter became warm and you’d both built up quite an appetite. You’d become...tied up, literally.

“Reckon we should probably eat,” you told him as he nuzzled closer.

“Five more minutes?”

You pulled the bed sheet over your bare chest and snuggled into him. “Fine. But only because you asked nicely.”

“Thought I already was being nice for the last hour and a half,” he winked.

You slapped him playfully before he pulled you in and pressed his lips to yours.

“I’m holding you to that,” Fred said, bringing you to the present. He placed his hand on the small of your back as he reached above you to grab something from a high cabinet. You saw traces of that young boy when you looked at him, a small grin tugging at the edges of his lips. He peered at you with solemn eyes. He asked quietly, “What is it?”

Something about the Weasleys and their soft spoken voices in times of vulnerability made you breakdown absolutely each and every time. Tears escaped your eyes with no effort, and Fred pulled you into a bone crushing embrace. You placed a hand on his chest as you cried, and felt his heartrate increase quite rapidly. “I am so sorry,” he said, muffled by your hair. You felt him sob in your arms, too.

“I’m sorry,” you managed to choke out, “I’m so sorry. I miss you.”

“I miss you more.”

This kiss finally felt like a real one, one exchanged between two people who truly loved one another even in times of defeat and anger—not something shared between two people because they lived under the same roof and felt obligated too. It was the first time in months it finally felt pure.

“We’ve been rubbish at loving one another.”

“Terrible,” you replied. His eyes were bloodshot—you hated seeing Fred cry. You’d only seen it two other times—once, right before he and George finally left Hogwarts and he was saying goodbye to you for a little while, and the other, when George got hurt a few months prior. He never, ever let anyone see him get upset. You promised yourself you’d never do anything to make Fred cry. “I am...really scared.”

He nodded and fought back tears again, looking at you with a kind of nervousness you’d never seen before. “Me, too,” he admitted as he continued to run his hands through your hair. You wanted nothing more than to forget about everything going on, and just—have a normal night, for once. Before everything spiraled.

It’s as if he read your mind, because he pushed the ingredients away from you both on the countertop and picked you up and placed you there. He brushed his shirt sleeve over his red, puffy eyes, and all you could see was youth.

“You know what I really want to eat?”

Confused, you wiped tears away from your face and his. It seemed like they were escaping his eyes with no effort too, but he was smiling at you. A true smile. The one and only. “What?” you asked, playing with the baby fine hairs at the nape of his neck.

“Some pancakes.”

You smiled gratefully at him, straightening his shirt collar and smoothing down any wrinkles you found. “With blueberries and chocolate chips?”

“Of course—it’s delicious.”

He pulled you into a tight embrace and lifted you off of the countertop. You were weightless to him. You wrapped your legs around his waist and you could feel him sobbing again. “I love you, okay?” His voice began to break. “I have since that midnight stroll when I walked you back to your common room, and I always will—no matter what.”

“I love you, too,” you choked back, biting your tongue to keep from letting out hoarse cries, “and I promise to show you everyday.”

It still wasn’t normal. It wouldn’t be for a while. That was a terrifying thought, one that kept you up at night. At least he had his arms around you. But this—this was a start—the start of something new, different, okay. One you both were grateful for.

reblogs + feedback are greatly appreciated, helps me when i write x

[rushingheadlong]

“It’s Late” Song Analysis (and mini-rant)

Disclaimer: I’m not writing this to argue that Brian didn’t cheat. He did. We’re not debating that today. What we are discussing is the fact that Queen songs frequently have several different layers of meaning and there are other, I think equally valid, interpretations of It’s Late that don’t reduce the song down to just “lol he done cheated”.

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First, let’s acknowledge that the literal story that the song is telling is the ending of a love affair. In Brian’s own words:

“It’s another one of those story-of-your life songs. I think it’s about all sorts of experiences that I had, and experiences that I thought other people had, but I guess it was very personal, and it’s written in three parts, it’s like the first part of the story is at home, the guy is with his woman. The second part is in a room somewhere, the guy is with some other woman, that he loves, and can’t help loving, and the last part is he’s back with his woman.”

Even in that quote Brian is hinting at layers of meaning by saying, “all sorts of experiences” that he had and that he thought other people had. I’ve seen several people criticize this by pointing out that cheating isn’t a universally relatable experience. That’s true, but that criticism is based on the assumption that the song is only about cheating… and I don’t think it is.

There are several reasons I think the song is about other experiences and emotions in Brian’s life beyond just cheating:

Firstly, that above quote - I genuinely do not think that Brian is naive enough to believe that cheating is a universal experience, which makes me suspect that there is more to this song than just that and that there are other things at play here that other people could find relatable.

Brian writes personal songs all the damn time, but they’re very rarely as straightforward as the lyrics would make you believe. ‘39, for example, has sci-fi themes on the surface but Brian has said that it’s also about coming home from a tour and feeling out of place in his “normal” life. Even something like Fat Bottomed Girls, which seems like it should be straightforward about Brian liking heavier woman, has been explicitly confirmed by Brian to be written about Freddie’s choice in partners. (And if you look at the women Brian has dated, you can see that it’s not really about him at all.)

Working off of that, I have a very hard time believing that Brian would want to write a song about his cheating by writing a song explicitly about cheating. Especially considering that Brian referencing his cheating in Now I’m Here is done rather cryptically (“Down in the Dungeon just Peaches and me”) and not anywhere near as obvious as the story in It’s Late. Brian May has a knack for hiding the truth of his emotions deep in his music, and I don’t think a straight-forward reading of the literal meaning of his lyrics will ever pick up on everything that he actually put into the song.

Brian wrote this song not too long after he married Chrissy. (I’m not sure on the exact dates here, but I think he married Chrissy in ‘76 and It’s Late was written probably in late summer of ‘77.) I have a very hard time believing that a recently-married Brian would be either oblivious, uncaring, or malicious enough to write a literal exploit of his cheating into a song that his new wife could end up hearing, and it makes more sense to me for the song to have more layers and be about other things as well rather than assume that Brian’s plan was just to make up another explanation for the song if asked about it.

We have exactly no evidence of Brian having a long-term, recurring affair with a single woman, which is very much what the superficial story of this song is about. (Before anyone starts arguing, “But Peaches!!” - It’s Late was written before Brian reconnected with her at the Jazz party in New Orleans.) So given that there’s obviously some level of fiction being worked into this song, I don’t think it’s a stretch to argue that even if Brian was drawing on his cheating for some of the emotion in the song there are more layers to it than just that.

SO. What else could the song (also) be about?

I would argue that another very valid interpretation of the song is Brian’s feelings of disconnect between his “normal” life and the life of a rockstar in Queen. Yes, I’m sure that includes the cheating, but I don’t think that’s all that Brian is talking about here.

Brian has said in different interviews that he struggled with being a husband and a father because he didn’t know what he was doing. He felt like he was letting his family down by not always being around, and also struggled to fit into a domestic life in the moments when he was home.

Bear in mind that Brian seems incapable of ever slowing down. Today he has multiple large-scale projects that he works on when he’s not actively touring with Queen, but he didn’t have these same sorts of outlets in the 70s and 80s. He didn’t have a private recording studio, he didn’t work with other artists to the same degree that he does now, he didn’t have the Save Me Trust, he wasn’t writing books… you get the idea. So it’s easy to see why he’d struggle to settle into a “normal” life in his moments of downtime, when day-to-day life with his family was so much quieter and calmer than he was used to dealing with.

The general theme of feeling disconnected from a “normal” life is also one that pops up multiple times in Brian’s songs. Like I said before, ‘39 is partially about Brian returning home from tour and feeling like an outsider in his old life. There’s also Leaving Home Ain’t Easy, which addresses the pull between domesticity and touring a little more obviously.

I would also argue that Sleeping on the Sidewalk (which is on the same album as It’s Late) also does this a little with the change from “I may get hungry but I sure don’t want go home” to “I sure do want to go home” in the last chorus. So it’s something that seems to have been on Brian’s mind, at least a little bit, at the same time that he was writing It’s Late.

Like I said before this is also not too long after Brian married Chrissy, and it’s only two years (and two albums) after A Night at the Opera when Queen is still continuing to reach new heights of superstardom. On some level, Brian may have been torn between wanting to marry Chrissy and worrying that he wouldn’t be “doing right” by her by constantly being in the studio or touring and not being around as they started a family together.

Also consider that Brian’s life up until this point has had a very sharp divide between the personal and the professional. Brian continued working on his doctorate thesis for years after Queen formed and only set it aside in 1974, at which point he had a falling-out with his father that was really only put to rest in February 1977 - literally only months before he would have written this song. It’s possible that Brian was feeling frustrated by the fact that he was only just now starting to balance these two parts of his life, and that whatever progress he made was slow and messy and, on some level, “not enough”.

And a lot of the lyrics could support this reading as well:

(Verse 1) And if I say I love you in the candlelight There's no one but myself to blame But there's something inside that's turning my mind away Oh, how I could love you If I could let you stay

Brian is in love with Chrissy, but feels guilty that he’s distracted by Queen affairs. He can tell her that he loves her “in the candlelight”, when they’re actually alone, but he always goes back to the band where Chrissy can’t follow or really “stay” with him.

(Verse 2) Oh, you know that I can love you Though I know I can't be true Oh, you made me love you Don't tell me that we're through

Brian loves being in Queen but he can’t be “true” to the band anymore because he has Chrissy and a future family to think about now. Also, consider the lyric: you made me love you. Brian was always a little reserved about Queen at first, as shown by how long it took him to drop his thesis and commit 100% to the band. But Queen “made [him] love [it]” and now he’s facing a change in the old status quo that he doesn’t know how to handle.

(Bridge) We've been so long trying to work it out

This isn’t a new problem for Brian. He’s been with Chrissy for years at this point and he’s been juggling life with her and life with Queen for most of that time. The difference now is how much the band has taken off over the last year or two and, as a result of that, the new struggles he’s had to face as his two lives diverge even more.

(Verse 3) You say what game are you playing? What's this that you're saying? I know that I can't reply If I take you tonight, is it making my life a lie? Oh, you make me wonder Did I live my life right?

Queen eventually has to go on tour again, and the parting isn’t easy. Chrissy may not be happy that he’s leaving, and Brian feels guilty for being with her in this moment when he’s about to leave her for the next few months. He wonders if he’s doing the right thing by splitting his life between Queen and his new family.

One other lyric that I want to highlight is from the first chorus where Brian asks, Is it just my sickly pride? That’s always struck me as a very strange line to put in a song if it was only supposed to be about cheating… but it kind of makes a lot of sense if it’s about Queen instead, and Brian is questioning whether he’s continuing down this path because he’s too proud to admit that he can’t keep splitting his life between Chrissy and Queen like he has been.

So. There’s that. A whole of lot of reasons why I think it makes more sense for It’s Late to have layers of meaning inside of being about only cheating and nothing but cheating, as well as what I think is another valid interpretation of the song.

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Also, if I may end this on a slightly different (and much angrier) note:

A lot of Queen songs have multiple layers of meaning and/or are about fictional (or semi-fictional) scenarios. There’s also songs written by John and Roger from when they were married that are clearly not about their wives but, for example, no one listens to “In Only Seven Days” and questions whether John was cheating on Veronica during that week (even though they all cheated - and I know some of you are gonna be angry at me for saying that, but it’s true and I’m not gonna get into debates about that). So it feels a little… weird, I suppose? To have people embrace the many meanings of Queen songs and the fantasies in them, but to limit It’s Late to a single one-dimensional interpretation.

I think it’s disrespectful to Brian to ignore everything that is beautiful in the music and lyrics of this song, and it’s incredibly disrespectful to Queen as a whole to imply that… what? They let Brian record a song explicitly about his cheating and nothing else for laughs? Or that they let themselves be bullied into including it on the album? Because, again, if this is only about Brian’s cheating, that would imply that everyone involved with this song beyond Brian heard it and didn’t point out the potential for Chrissy to be hurt by this - an issue that doesn’t exist, at least not to the same extent, if the others had plausible reasons to assume that the song had more depth to it than just that.

And while I can understand some of the jokes about this song, I think the fandom collectively has reached a point where it’s gone past plausibly funny and straight into hurtful. Ignoring all the shit that gets slung Brian’s way, I just don’t understand how so many people can rail against Brian’s cheating… and then immediately turn around and crack jokes about this song or Chrissy’s reaction to it, in a way that completely trivializes not only her experiences but the experiences of everyone who’s been cheated on.

So yeah. You don’t have to like the song, and I’m not even trying to claim that Brian’s cheating played no role in this. But limiting the song to a one-dimensional interpretation and then cracking endless “jokes”- or worse, using this song to try to draw conclusions about Brian’s or Chrissy’s actions or their relationship- is just a really shitty thing to do.

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(And one final note: I have zero interest in debating or discussing the morality of anyone’s cheating. Don’t use this post to springboard into conversations that are just about Brian’s cheating and not the song itself - make your own post if you want to talk about that, because I’m not hosting it here.

Also while I’m open to talking about other interpretations of this song if your argument is, “Brian cheated so It’s Late is about his cheating and nothing else!” I’m not having that debate with you.)

[idhrenniel]

Heads or Tails. | Tommy Shelby.

➴ Summary: Tommy makes all big decisions with a coin, this one can’t be different.

➴ Pairing: Tommy Shelby / fem!reader (3rd POV).

➴ Warnings: None. Maybe some arguing in the beginning. Me not proofreading.

➴ Wordcount: 1.4K

➴ Tagged: @angelaiswriting

➴ Author Note: Can Tumblr stop acting up and post when I ask it to post?

Small Heath, Birmingham.

1906.

Freddie and John ran through Small Heath’s streets, leaving (Y/N) and Thomas behind doing their own thing. Which in this case, was arguing. This was no unusual picture, however their argument seemed heated up and, somehow, important. It was important. To them, at least.

Thomas sighed, coming to a stop. (Y/N) was reluctant, but after a few steps she too stopped, turning around to see him standing there, frown in his face. “What?” She asked.

“What? You agreed to go out with that fuckin’ bastard! That’s what!”

See, that same morning a kid, a bit older than them, had asked (Y/N)’s father for permission to take her to the fair - it was stupid, no one had given it importance. Except for Thomas. To her, it was nothing but a chance to go to the fair (which she fucking loved), for him? It looked like it was the end of the world. (Y/N) sighed for what seemed to be the hundredth time.

“So what, huh?” Her voice raised up above his. She walked up to him, arms at her sides. He almost took a step back but fought the urge to. “At least he got the balls to ask! You threaten to beat up every man that looks in my direction, yet you never claim me as yours! What do you expect from me, Tommy? That I wait around until your cock doesn’t itch anymore?”

Thomas opened and closed his mouth like a fish out of water, not knowing how to respond. It wasn’t as if she was wrong - he had been doing so since he was old (and strong) enough to beat people up, but she had never complained about it before.

She scoffed, turning around. “Right, that’s what I thought.” Before Thomas was able to react, she was gone. He let out a sigh, feeling the guilt creep up his heart.

Freddie and John were walking up to him. Freddie was the one to speak: “You don’t go after her now, that English bastard is gonna have her. Don’t be a fool.”

Thomas didn’t want to admit Freddie was right, but he was. He sprinted in the direction she had taken- which led to the canal. It wasn’t long before he caught up to her.

“(Y/N)! Wait!” She didn’t stop, forcing him to run faster until he was besides her. He caught her arm and stopped her, grabbing her face with his free hand, he noticed the tears.

She sniffed. “I don’t want to hear it.” She saw Thomas grabbing something from his pocket - a coin. He took a step back, but none of them broke eye contact.

He sighed, rolling the coin through his fingers. “Heads: you’re mine. Tails: I’m yours.”

Thomas tossed the coin in the air, letting it hit the ground. He and (Y/N) looked down.

Small Heath, Birmingham.

1920.

Pol and Ada had helped her get into her wedding dress and were now helping her get out of the house without a single scratch, otherwise she would raise hell. Ada was squealing like a little girl, excited for the big moment.

“Took him long enough!” Ada said, earning her a reprimand from Pol. “What? I’m right! How long the two been together for, Pol? Fourteen! Fourteen fuckin’ years.”

She wasn’t wrong, but in their defense a lot had happened during that time. Her mother died, causing her to look for a job since her father… well, her father forgot he had a daughter. It took Thomas six months of hard work, but he ended up convincing her to move in with him. Then, it was Thomas’s mother who died. It was a hard blow for him since his father had walked out on them not long before. (Y/N) got pregnant, lost the child, then the war. It had been a rough decade for them, but things were falling into place.

“At least I’m getting married. You’re gettin’ old alone!” Ada gasped, causing the other two to laugh out loud. It was a meaningless joke, (Y/N) was well aware of Ada and Freddie’s affair, but it still made Ada slap (Y/N)’s arm. “Ouch!”

Pol sighed, “that’s enough! Let’s get to the Church before I die of old age.” Ada and (Y/N) almost, almost, made the joke, but a single look from Pol and their mouths shut like a zipper.

In their walk to the Church - because (Y/N) had refused to take the car, people who had seen both Thomas and (Y/N) grow up waved from their doorsteps. Some children ran next to her, but were careful to not stain the dress. It was a beautiful morning, the sun was out. Not an usual picture for Small Heath, but to her it was a sign from heaven. Their mothers were looking down at them, smiling. She knew that much.

Finally, the Church. Ada ran inside first and took her place besides Finn in the first row. (Y/N) had asked Pol to give her away. With her mother gone and her dad missing, lost in some low-cost brothel God knew where, and the closest thing she had to a mother was standing next to her, grabbing her arm and smiling proudly. She was finally going to be (Y/N) Shelby, although she had been known as such for the last decade. When she and Thomas exited the Church doors, it would be official. Pol was as excited, if not more than her. Taking a deep breath, (Y/N) nodded and two of Thomas’s friends opened the doors and they walked inside. The music started sounding as she set foot on the sacred grounds.

Going up to the altar, Arthur and John looked at her with a big smile. Lizzie Stark - who was her cousin and best friend, was doing her best to avoid the tears, and besides her was Freddie, who also tried to hide his happiness but failed at doing so. And next to Jeremiah - who was so excited to be officiating the wedding, there was her Thomas. Dressed up in a black tuxedo, biggest smile she had seen on him since his return from the war, shaking in his spot like he was a kid getting his life dream coming true. His back was straightened with pride; his hands felt warm as Pol laid (Y/N)’s hands on him and (Y/N) took her side besides him. Yes, she thought. That’s right where she belonged.

Jeremiah raised his hands, the Church fell into silence after the people sat on the benches. It had been so long, and so much had happened. Being there together was a promise for the future ahead of them. It was going to be hard, she knew. With Thomas growing the business, things were about to be dangerous, but Thomas did what was best for their family. As long as they were together, though, nothing would ever be too much.

“Ladies and gentlemen. We have reunited here to celebrate the union of Thomas Shelby and (Y/N) (Y/L/N) - finally,” he noted, making people laugh. “After fourteen years, Tommy has grow the balls to give (Y/N) his last name, something we’re all grateful for. Specially the men that had tried to flirt with her and had ended up in the hospital.” (Y/N) blushed, looking at her friend like he was summoning Satan, then at Tommy who was just laughing. Behind him, John and Arthur were almost on the floor.

If she didn’t love them so much, she’d beat them up.

Jeremiah went on: “It’s been a hard path for these two souls, but both had overcome what life threw to them. Together. Now, as their friends, we’re honoured to be here and see them become man and wife and spend the rest of their lives together with God’s blessing. So, the rings-” Arthur gave Thomas the ring, and Ada walked up to her to give her the other. “Good, now… Thomas Shelby, do you take (Y/N) as your wife, for the best and the worst, in health and illness, in wealth and poverty, until death does you apart?”

“I do.”

“And (Y/N)...”

(Y/N) wasn’t listening when Jeremiah gave cue to the kiss. All she saw was Thomas leaning in, pressing his warm lips against hers and the smile she let out as he did so. She wrapped her arms around his neck and he held her close to him. She heard the cheers, the applauses and whistles, but it was an echo in her mind, ecstatic to belong to him once and for all. As the kiss broke, Thomas still held her close enough to whisper: “Heads, you’re mine.”

“Tails, I’m yours.”

[sweetangelfart]

Dont hate me but the H's photoshoot was really pretty and my god those dresses so divinely beautiful and his hair was just 🥺🥺and being the first male on vogue cover is just 🤟🤟 but the interview....I just found it ~repetitive~,apart from a few things here and there most of it is what he's already said before

1.no talk about his actual relationships while being cryptic about finding love(they're not imposing the womanizer image anymore right??)

4.really loves Tokyo

2.he!!was!! in!! LA!!with!! friends!! grrr

3.had to reassure that yes he loves the boys and 1D and still in touch with them(much to his present teams frustration I presume seeing how hell bent they are in separating him from them)

5.spoke about how they recorded on the road in 1d and how he got actual studio time with HS and FL

10. Feeling at home in london and how LA is just a vacation spot

6.he was really scared and uptight about HS and he was more free on FL

7.loves being on tour and cant wait to do it again post covid

8.chidhood growing up,leading to xfactor and being put in the band 9.18 mOnThS🙂🙂 in a FrIenDs hOuSe and 'oOpSie better not show up drunk there hehe' although I thought it was weird that he mentioned Ben's name and his wife's name in the other article but here it was friend and friend's wife ,the cocaine or going home thingy 🤷‍♀️🤷‍♀️ just anything to prove he was not with lou,right anyways..

11. People find him to be a gentleman and very polite and humble (felt like a proud mummy after this hehe I imagine anne is puffing with pride☺☺)

12.hes very open to trying new things out fashion wise

16. Bromance between him and Michele and him and harry lambert is UwU

17.clothing has no gender,he doesnt diffrentiate between men or women's clothing

15.dunkirk and how it was a big thing regardless of his contribution to it and that he considered it a privilege to have been a part of (got new info on how Olivia wilde was pumped to have him on DWD,which was yayyy 🙌🙌)

13.loves dressing up since he was a kid (got new info about the 'world cup mug' and the dalmatian and cruella de vil which made me chuckle😝😝)

14.gem talking about him mimicking elvis and how he was shy to sing infront of an audience

18."he has an army of mini purses 🥺🥺🥺" (while mentioning only a 'sky blue gucci diana bag with his initials on it😏😏)

Things that made me deadpan about how loud he was being lol-

19.blue dress with ruffles,black lace and ribbon which are a mesmerizing blend of naivety and quiet seduction (god hes obsessed isnt he?? Cant blame him tho)

20.singing ABBA eh? Where oh where have we heard of yet another man speaking so passionately about ABBA I wonder..

21. The 'yes daddy I love him' shirt makes a reappearance and has no mention in the article while so many other outfits were spoken of(sure!! let's just brush this off shall we?)

22.singing only that verse of cherry(pretty sure he got so many solos blood pumping cause of it and they're just about foaming at the mouth to pounce on us)

23.he mentioned Prince,David Bowie,Elton John,Freddie Mercury and Elvis being inspirational and loud with their outfits and how he doesn't feel crazy wearing something flamboyant....how much more must he spell it for you??

24.Is constantly being ushered from place to place and albeit doesnt like being alone but also enjoys people not knowing where he is that it's a form of freedom and escape and water is very cleansing(tired tired sea anyone??)

Call it what you want but this is just what they're projecting him to be, I'm not saying that he isnt this version of him but nowadays I feel that everthing they're churning out has the same things over and over again to reinforce the timeline and repetition of the same thing hits the nail on that coffin

Yes he finds comfort in clothes,yes he is a gentleman,yes he is humble and polite, yes he is the perfect modern rockstar who is in every way worthy of being dubbed as such cause he has those qualities inculcated in him while being in touch with both his masculinity and femininity doesnt scare him but everything I see in the media about him and anything about or related to him is just 'harry styles' and it's all just a brand now. I'm happy on one hand that we got new content but then again it wasn't anything new or anything that didn't reinforce the image they're trying to built around him.I cannot help being reminded of that part 'this is us' and how he talks about how "being famous takes away a lot of substance from who you are as a person" and how people are always labeling his life and all this brings out the painfully obvious parallels with tired tired sea

You cant convince me otherwise of him not having read TTS or Y&B

To me this article just polished what already is a clear glass closet

[just-my-sickly-pride]

Chill Night - Queen & Reader (platonic)

summary || you love being friends-with-benefits with Brian, but sometimes it’s just nice to enjoy time as friends, without the benefits. a relaxed night at the boys’ flat.

rating || G! can you believe it? platonic fluff.

word count || 1.4k. can you believe that?

author’s notes || this fic is part of the Try series! if you’re not sure what that is, it’s a ‘verse where reader is in a friends-with-benefits situation with Brian. this is just a lil one-shot on the side just for a bit of fun. if you are familiar with the Try ‘verse, this is set in between The Old College Try and Ask Nicely.

masterlist

     Your thing was Brian was great, it was. But you also loved the times when you came over and sex was the last thing on either of your minds.

    Brian made it clear one night. Hey, can we have a chill night tonight? he texted.

     course we can, you replied. see u in two hours.

    You’d turned up with Cards Against Humanity to find the boys already wrapped up in an intense game of Scrabble.

    But as if the ‘intense’ part needed to be pointed out. Every game of Scrabble was intense with those four.

    Four heads poked up from behind the couch when you entered, and they all smiled and said hello, but quickly disappeared again, focusing back on the game.

    You set the game and your jacket on the table. “Tea?” you called on your way to the kitchen.

    You heard four yeses in response, and made sure to fill the kettle up to the brim.

    You helped yourself to some dried apricots as you waited for the water to boil – either Brian or John had clearly done the grocery shopping this week, as there was finally proper food in the house, as opposed to when Freddie or Roger went shopping and instead came home with things like bottles of wine and shitty caviar and boxes of water crackers with nothing to put on them and, on one occasion, a faux fur coat.

    You heard an argument break out in the living room. It started off as bickering, and, as you popped another dried apricot into your mouth and started collecting everyone’s mugs – Brian’s was the large matte black one, Roger liked the smaller one with a sketch of a Fender guitar, John’s was the yellow mug with the large handle, and Freddie used a soup mug – the bickering turned into yelling, dotted with more swearing. You waited for the sound of the board being smacked to the floor, but, no, there was Freddie, calming everyone down as he usually did, and the yelling turned into muttering that you couldn’t pick up.

    You chose a hideously ugly mug that had the word ‘King’ on it, written in tacky elegant writing. It used to have a partner, a mug that said ‘Queen’ in the same text, and none of the boys knew where the mugs had come from, but Roger had smashed the ‘Queen’ one a few months ago when he’d been pissed off at something or other.

    The kettle stopped boiling. You added tea bags to each of the mugs and filled them with water.

    One sugar for you and a dash of milk, no sugar but a healthy dash of milk for Freddie, half a sugar and a dash of milk for Brian, two sugars and a splash of milk for John, and one-and-a-half sugars and one and a half dashes of milk for Roger.

    You carried them out two at a time.

    “Cheers,” Roger said when you handed his over. “Is it one-and-three-sevenths sugars?”

    “Yes,” you lied. As if he could tell the difference between one-and-a-half and one-and-three-sevenths, the prick.

    You finally fetched your own tea, and settled on the couch behind John to watch the game.

    It only took about ten minutes before you were joining Freddie on the floor, the two of you a team. Scrabble wasn’t your favourite, but it was impossible to avoid playing it at some point when you spent so much time here.

    Brian won. As he often did.

    Roger sulked. Also as he often did.

    You quickly took the opportunity to guide everyone’s interests into Cards Against Humanity before a new round of Scrabble could start up again, and, thankfully, you convinced them.

    “Does anyone want anything while I’m up?” you said, heading over to the table where you’d left the game.

    “It’s fine, I’ll get it,” Brian said, collecting up all the mugs and getting to his feet with a groan.

    “What are you getting?” John asked.

    “I bought some pastries today,” Brian said over his shoulder, and his three housemates gasped.

    “What?” Freddie exclaimed. “When?”

    “When I did the shopping,” Brian said. He disappeared into the kitchen, and reappeared with a box from the bakery down the street. Roger, Freddie, and John perked up like a couple of meerkats, eyes fixated on the box.

    “Is there a chocolate éclair?” Roger said. “I want the éclair.”

    “I want a Danish,” Freddie said. “But only if it’s apple, did you get an apple one, darling?”

    “I’m having the custard tart,” John said.

    “God, you’re like children, you lot,” Brian said. “There’s plenty for everyone.”

    “But is the Danish an apple one?”

    “Yes, Fred.”

    Freddie clapped his hands.

    Brian stopped at the table, and opened the box, presenting it to you. “Guests first.” His smile was soft and warm, his eyes equally so. Sometimes you forgot how nice it was to just be like this, without needing to tear each other’s clothes off. To just enjoy some time together, in a different kind of way.

    “Thanks,” you said with a grin, and chose a caramel slice.

    You and Brian went and sat down with the others, and they dove into the pastries like they were men on the brink of starvation.

    John won three out of four games of Cards Against Humanity. You were pretty happy about winning one, but John was by far the master. His mind was far more twisted than anyone gave him credit for, and he wore that badge with pride.

    After the games, you all had a second cup of tea and decided to watch a film. There was arguing back and forth for at least twenty minutes, but in the end, everyone was happy enough to watch an episode of Planet Earth II. You were nestled in between Brian and Freddie, with Roger and John at your feet on the floor.

    It was something else, watching a film or show with the four boys. Roger and Freddie were restless creatures; Roger had to constantly be told to stop drumming, and Freddie would often get up and wander around like he was looking for something. John’s specialty was that he fell right asleep after not even half an hour. Brian made little noises, just hums and grumbles and grunts in response to whatever was happening or what was said. It drove Roger mad, but you were used to it.

    You rarely finished a movie. Roger and Freddie would get too bored to finish it, and would start chatting. Usually you and Brian would slip away to his bedroom, but this time you curled up on the couch in the space Freddie had left when he’d gone on one of his wanderings around the room. You kept having to shake yourself awake, until Roger came over and patted you on the face, making your screw up your nose.

    “Go to bed,” he said.

    “I’m fine,” you said.

    “Go to bed.”

    “Leave me alone.”

    “Go to bed. I’ll carry you there.”

    “Carry me where?” you said. “All the way home?”

    “You can sleep in my room; I’ll take the couch.”

    “Don’t be ridiculous, Roger. You can sleep in my bed with me,” Freddie said.

    Brian squeezed your ankle. “Go on,” he urged you. “I’ll get Deaky to bed, too.”

    You pouted. Roger took your wrist and tugged you to your feet, and then pulled you all the way to his room. “G’night,” he said. “Sleep well.”

    “I gotta get ready for bed,” you said.

    “Well, you know where your toothbrush is. I’m gonna play some Xbox, but I’ll keep the noise down, yeah?”

    You nodded. “Thanks, Rog.”

    He disappeared, and you shuffled to the bathroom. John was in there, brushing his teeth, droopy-eyed, and you joined him at the sink. Neither of you spoke a word, too tired to talk, but when John was done he mumbled, “Sleep well,” and shuffled out.

    When you were done in the bathroom, Brian was there waiting outside for you, and he guided you to Roger’s room with a hand on the small of your back. He gave you a hug goodnight and a kiss on the forehead, and then you closed the door behind you, stripped to your underwear, and curled up in Roger’s bed, listening to the faint sounds of Roger and Freddie laughing and chatting, and the sounds of gunfire and explosions coming from the TV, as you drifted off to sleep.