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angelwithdemonictendencies · 2 days ago

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my palms ran red turning over jagged rocks, thought i'd find some kind of sign; you pressed your mouth to my wound, weren't your bloody lips sign enough?

qh43 x reader: you really have to stop meeting like this.

(warnings: mostly plot, but also blasphemous filth (yes, we're back on the smut train), unprotected penetrative sex (m on f), fingering, hair pulling (i haven't changed), choking (i really haven't changed), descriptions of self-doubt and shame and all my typical stuff. mostly tension building (10k words worth), general debauchery. please be warned, don’t read if you’re not 100% sure.)

(a/n: oh my god, favorites. i hadn't read this one in so long, so thank you for allowing me an avenue to rediscover it. i'm so happy you're getting to rediscover it now, too. if you want a song to listen to that i think goes with this story really well, give BONES! by girly teeth club a try :) i do genuinely believe that this story was a real turning point for me, and it holds a very special place in my heart because of that (i had the line then who was i praying to? well, who answered? taped to my computer for a long, long time. personal favorite of mine). i hope you enjoy this one again, and also hello to the followers and readers who have no idea what i'm talking about when i bitch and moan about my old account. i see you, and i love you, and i'm so eager to hear what you think. enjoy mechanic qh43 and all of the mythical divine powers that he inspires within me. to the seven people who care, more ol and rus coming momentarily. sunday is now my designated tumblr day, so if you want to chat, sunday is your best bet. i love you and your snakes! be kind to yourself).

like most all-consuming things, it started with something insignificant.

if your tail light had never gone out during the summer before your third year at university, perhaps none of it would have ever happened. part of you wanted to believe that some determined power would have guided the two of you together no matter what, but most of you thought the powers of the world to be nonchalant at best, hostile at worst.

regardless, your right tail light went out a few weeks before school started, and despite your intense unwillingness to spend money on your car, your mom insisted that you get it fixed.

"that family auto shop will do it quickly," she suggested, "the one a few streets down from school."

so here you were, standing uncomfortably in the lobby of the mechanic's, less than soothed by the harsh noises that echoed through the small garage.

you cleared your throat, attempting to get the attention of the teenage receptionist, probably the daughter or cousin of the owner, currently on her phone.

she looked up immediately, smiled wide, full of braces and friendliness. "sorry," she said, only a little guilty to be caught on her phone. "how can i help you?"

you smiled right back at her, immediately put at ease by her presence. "my mom called earlier," you said. you went to continue, but were enthusiastically cut off.

"miss tail light!" she exclaimed, to which you laughed and nodded. "have a seat," she urged, "quinn should be out in a minute, and that's a quick fix."

you nodded and sat down, then crossed your legs as you waited, bouncing one foot against your other calf. you looked at your hands, twisted one ring around your finger.

"you're the tail light?" a low voice called from the lobby entrance, forcing your gaze up from your hands to meet a pair of eyes that somehow swam with both steel and uncertainty.

this newcomer, quinn, supposedly, confirmed by the embroidered patch on his breast pocket, seemed to be immediately off-put by your matching gaze, as he shoved his wide hands in the pockets of his coveralls and blinked several times, a bit too fast.

his confusing mannerisms, combined with his curious combination of handsomeness and beauty, forced a small smile to your face as you stood up.

he really was pretty like you had never quite seen before, tall but not menacingly so, broad across the chest in a way that just looked warm, his coveralls hanging off of him, drawing attention to his frame, his thighs, his arms.

his hair was messy, curling only slightly at the tops of his ears, his cheekbones and jawline so, so sharp, but his nose and mouth softly curved.

you cleared your throat again when you realized you were probably staring.

"i suppose i am," you said, answering his question, approaching him and the door, by extension.

he gave a forced nod before turning to leave, urging a fluid reaction from the muscles in his neck and shoulders, which you pretended not to notice as you walked behind him.

in a choppy, sudden motion, he made to hold the door open for you, arm extended but gaze averted.

"thank you, quinn," you said, trying out his name, surprised to find how natural it felt on your tongue, something like a hymn a past-life you must have sang with unmatched conviction.

he seemed just as surprised as you, practically tripped over his own feet before quickly recovering. you bit your lip to stifle a laugh.

"should only take a second," he said as he crouched down next to your car, his voice a bit rougher than before, pulling a couple of tools and bulbs from his many pockets.

"take your time," you said, sitting down nearby as he got to work, and you meant it, feeling a somewhat shameful urge to just watch him. just look at him.

you fumbled to distract yourself, settling on looking interested in your phone. in reality, it took real effort to keep your eyes down, away from him, when you felt as if he emitted some kind of magnetic force suited only to you.

it felt like an eternity, but it took all of ten minutes, a couple swift motions, and he was done, rising again to his full height and turning to face you.

you allowed yourself to meet his eyes and it felt like a heaving exhale. "all done?" you asked, rising as well, willing brightness into your voice.

he nodded in affirmation, and you could have pouted. a man of few words, it seemed, and how you wished he would give you a few more.

he wiped his hands with a rag, and you refused to let your eyes follow the motion. "so i should pay..." you started.

he nodded towards the lobby. "you can pay with bean," he said, gruff.

you grinned right at him, and anyone else would have seen his gaze soften from stone to molten rock. "bean?" you asked.

the slightest smile took over his mouth. "my cousin," he said, slowly, "at reception."

you hummed, comforted by his sudden ease. "well then," you said, "i'll go check out with your cousin bean."

"i'll walk you," he blurted out, a blush coming to tint the tops of his ears in a positively dreamy sort of way.

so you walked the several steps back to the lobby together, the silence so comfortable you could have sighed, fallen asleep wrapped up in it.

already you felt some sense of loss creeping in, knowing you were probably never going to see him again, knowing this was all you were going to get. just a couple of glances and words and blushes, that's as far as this would go. and it made a lot of sense, but logical reason grew over your hazy, momentary crush like ivy on a brick building.

he held the door open for you again, and as you walked past him this time you looked up into his eyes. stone and steel and ivy.

you thanked him again.

"quinn?" came that delightfully girlish voice from behind the desk, this time intensely confused. "what are you doing?"

he stood in the door frame, his swallow almost cartoonish. "just making sure she checks out okay," he mumbled, not quite looking anyone in the face.

the girl smiled so wide, you could see she had chosen to make her braces purple last time she visited the orthodontist. "you've never done that before, is all," she observed with all the subtlety of a volcanic eruption.

was that pink tint creeping past his ears to his neck, now?

"do it plenty," he muttered, less than convincing and more to himself than anyone else.

the girl shot you a knowing look before turning to her cousin again. "if you say so," she relented. "miss tail light is in good hands with me, now, so you're all set, mr. random acts of kindness."

quinn muttered something under his breath before making to leave, embarrassment still flushing just under his collar.

the knowledge that this was it, this was all this would ever be, that's what made you reach a hand out to lightly grasp his forearm, stopping him where he stood.

you swore some kind of divine warmth rose to meet your hand.

he looked down at where your fingers met his arm before meeting your gaze. molten, yet again. he didn't move, didn't dare to scare off your touch.

"thank you again, quinn," you said, just to him.

a pause charged by meaning sparked between you both.

maybe some minuscule fraction of your heart feared he would push you away and roll his eyes, mumble something about personal space. or maybe that disgust would flood his lovely gaze, and he would say something much meaner.

you should never have touched him, you scolded yourself, stupid, desperate, foolish girl. you began to lift your hand away when his rough voice became a whisper, just for you.

"anything, doll," he said. and then he walked away, leaving his words to rattle around in your head like the whirring noises around the garage.

you paid, laughed playfully with the young receptionist as she insisted she had never seen her cousin so embarrassed, and especially not so bashful.

"i'm sure that's not true," you said, trying in vain to force your sky-rocketing hopes back to earth.

"oh, it is," she said as you made to leave, giving you a big smile and a wave as you bid her goodbye.

as you drove back home, those tendrils of reason crept back again, began to suffocate the dreamy romance that had settled like a glittery mist in your head.

you gave a single exhale, breathing out any unrealistic expectations. you'd probably never see him again, you admitted to yourself, and you tried to convince yourself that you were fine with it.

and so you let the image of steel and stone and ivy become a phantom in the back of your mind, along with the scorching solidity of his forearm underneath your delicate palm.

you'd never see him again, you believed.

in theory, you knew you could have had one of your friends find him on social media, it probably wouldn't have been too hard. a first name, an occupation, they'd tracked down fleeting flings and past crushes with much less information to go off of before.

but you didn't like the idea of interference, much preferred the way he looked in your memory to the fear that he would be someone very different online, that he would be someone different than the person that now existed exclusively in your head.

you were never supposed to see him again, and yet you did, and just as you had almost forgotten the way his shoulders moved when he walked, too.

three weeks later, just before you went back to school, you were eating dinner outside with your family at the country club they belonged to. you had been there maybe twice in the last couple of years, as your mom worked long hours and your dad only really used his membership for golf.

now, though, sitting outside, overlooking the course, in the pleasant air of the late summer, you were glad you were here, enjoying these last few moments with your family before you began your third year.

you were laughing at a joke your mom had made when you heard someone close by call out, "that's my marker, quinn!"

something distant fluttered in your stomach as you registered the name, tried so hard to not care if it was him or not. trying so, so hard to not care, but you cared so much it felt as if you might have willed him into existence yourself, wanted him enough that even the uninterested powers were forced to relent with a bored sigh.

so, in truth, you knew it was him even before you turned and focused on the hole just below the patio.

you knew it was him, and yet you were wholly unprepared for the way your head spun when you registered his familiar figure.

as if compelled by your gaze, or by something else worth worshipping, he turned, too, and there you were, staring at each other. did he recognize you the way you did him? the way you recognize your first lover's cologne? the way you recognize what's waiting behind a door with a scalding doorknob?

but then he took a hand off of his club and gave a timid wave, and you felt your body relax as you waved back. he paused for a moment as if in thought, then motioned towards him, silently asking you to come down.

"who is that?" your mother asked, not critical, only curious.

"my mechanic," you answered, "be right back, promise."

so, even though it was probably (definitely) against the rules, you made your way down to the impeccably cut grass, holding your shoes in one shaky hand.

you waved again as you approached him at the edge of the green, his friends gathered closer to the hole, talking animatedly amongst themselves.

he tilted his head and gave you a small smile, which gave you wings. a smile, and you hadn't even done anything!

"hi, quinn," you said, getting your first good look at him up close, and this time not in coveralls. this time in a polo that brought out his eyes and shorts that had you straining not to stare at his thighs.

"doll," he greeted, that ghost of a smile still on his full lips. "thought that was you."

heavy uncertainty suddenly settled between the both of you. what were you supposed to say? what was he supposed to say? what do you do with time that feels stolen?

"didn't think i'd see you again," you landed on, then physically cringed at yourself. "not that i was thinking about you, or anything," you added, then pursed your lips in a line.

awesome save.

he let out a laugh, though, and it shook his shoulders and lit up his face in a way that made it impossible to regret your rambling.

his laugh made him look human in a way he hadn't really, before, at the garage. it stripped back all the flowery expectations your imagination had buried him in and set him down here, in front of you, a real person.

a real person, who, in this summery light, was much more unabashed and generous with his smiles. his eyes had a softness to them that you hadn't noticed before.

"i wish you had, then," he said, in that deep, low, voice with a confidence that didn't quite suit him, like he was just trying it on.

it almost made you drop your shoes, regardless.

"yeah?" you asked, tilting your head and letting your satisfaction drench your face like sunset light.

he gave a little nod.

"c'mon, huggy!" one of his friends called. what do you do with time that feels stolen?

he looked back at them and his jaw clenched, for a second.

you knew you had to be the one to walk away, or it would haunt you like some ancestral debt.

"maybe i'll see you again, then, quinn," you said, your tone not conveying the desperate hope you felt.

he looked you up and down, amusement alight in his eyes. it seemed his nervous demeanor existed only in his coveralls. "you willing to take your chances on a 'maybe,' doll?"

were you?

you silently begged those distant forces to prove your hopes were not futile, but you didn't really believe that. you were headed to school in just two days, and who knows where he was headed, this mysterious mechanic who liked to golf and had eyes like a deity.

you knew you were on stolen time, and that this, again, was as far as this would ever go.

"we're going!" his friends called.

"i hope i see you again, quinn," you amended, already feeling a sense of loss again. but you had to be the one to walk away, so you began to.

his face was unreadable, some mixture of disappointment and interest and knowing.

"think about me some more this time, yeah? until you see me again?"

your smile glowed. "if 'm honest, quinn, that'll be hard," you said, thinking about how he had been a constant in your mind for the last couple of weeks. you leaned into your flirtatious side since you were both moving apart. it was always easiest when you were on the way out.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. "try extra hard for me, would you, doll?"

and for a moment, time seemed to ooze like amber. a blink felt like eternity, like you were both suspended in an hourglass.

"promise," you said. it came out like a whisper, but it felt like you screamed it across an open expanse.

and so you parted ways a second time, practically daring the universe to stop you from meeting again.

do whatever you want, universe, you seemed to say, i don't care! i'm fine with the story ending here!

oh, sweetheart, the universe seemed to say, yawning, barely looking at you, then why do you clutch at the book until your fingers bleed?

you could have scowled.

and, just as he wanted, and just as you were afraid of, he was there, in the back of your mind, for several weeks into the school year.

everything started smoothly. you were happy to see your friends again, to be living with them. classes started well. you went out when you wanted to. you began your regular job, tutoring other students in classes you had already taken. it was nice to see the students you had helped out last year, to continue helping them.

teachers referred you to help students who were struggling in their classes all the time, so it wasn't anything significant when one set up a time for you to meet at the library with someone who wasn't quite getting intro to calculus.

it was significant, however, when you opened up the reserved study room door to see quinn sitting at the table, textbooks out in front of him.

so significant, actually, that it genuinely scared you. "jesus," you muttered, exhaling and placing a calming hand over your heart.

he looked up when he heard the door open, and you were frozen in place.

this is what you wanted, right? the universe probably asked, bored. now will you leave me alone?

"i was not expecting you," you admitted, willing your heart back to beating normally.

you couldn't read him, yet again. and yet again, you felt as if you had wanted him hard enough that even the fibers of the universe were annoyed enough to comply.

ugh, they probably said to each other, just give that desperate fool what she wants! i'm tired of hearing her pleas!

but you could have sighed at how beautiful he looked, this time different again - sweatpants and a t-shirt and messy hair. soft looking and sleepy after a day of class and whatever else.

"yeah?" he asked, although he hadn't expected you either. he wasn't shocked the way you were, though. only pleasantness played across his full features. "who were you expecting?"

not you, you wanted to say. things just don't work out like this for me. "i didn't know you went here," you said, simply.

"i didn't know you were a tutor," he replied, leaning back in his chair.

i didn't know your smile gets lopsided when you're tired, you thought to yourself. you could never forget that, now.

"safe to say we know very little about each other, doll," he added, as if he could hear your thoughts.

and he was right - you hadn't asked him anything about himself the last two times you saw him, and he didn't know anything about you. how easy would it have been at the course to say you were going to the local university in a couple of days. why had you not?

why had you relinquished control so easily?

it practically pained you to think about that, just as it was practically painful to look at his face head on, eyes weary with sleep yet bright with amusement, so you decided to solve both of those problems.

"well," you said, sliding into the seat next to him at the table, excruciatingly aware of your closeness, "what do you know about derivatives?"

he gave a huff of a laugh. "probably even less," he said.

you gave him a smile and started to go over your notes with him. the more you spoke, and the deeper you got into the topic, the easier it was to be close to him.

you were still hyperaware of his warmth, his presence, his beauty, his being, but you could do this. getting lost in your purpose here instead of getting lost in him.

after about an hour of you explaining derivatives, you looking at your notes, and him looking at you, you shut your textbook.

"i think that's good for a first session, hm?" you asked, turning to face him and hugging one knee to your chest.

he held your gaze as if studying your face. it felt like being center stage, under a white hot spotlight.

he spread his legs out and reached his arms up, stretching after sitting in the same position for a while. you had to look down at your hands.

"five more minutes?" he asked like a kid begging for an extended bedtime. only now he was asking for more time with you.

you scrunched up your nose, which made him smile, a bit. "can i ask you a question, quinn?" you asked. "since we don't know anything about each other."

"only if i get one, too," he answered.

you thought carefully, flexed your hand on your knee as your gaze met his sleepy one. "it's not that late," you started, "why are you so tired?"

he laughed again, making your chest sing. "busy day," he answered, "had two classes, practice, and a lift."

and as he elaborated you added to the carefully protected vault in your mind of information you knew about him. he played hockey for the team here, he was a defensemen, he was always busy.

"my turn," he said after he was done, low like a secret.

you nodded, forced away the flush his tone alone was able to pull from you.

"did you keep your promise?" he asked.

of everything he could have said, you were least expecting that. of course you knew what promise he was referring to immediately. of course it felt like something abominable to tell him the truth.

suddenly the space between the two of you felt much too little, much too dangerous. so small that you could see each of his eyelashes, he could see the way your eyes dropped to his mouth for a second.

there was something in his eyes that surprised you, though. there was a trace of those nerves you had seen in him that first day - that instability and uncertainty. he wanted you to say yes, you realized. he wanted it so, so much.

"of course i did, quinn," you soothed, leaning forward onto your knee just a bit. it was always easiest on the way out. "did you have any doubts?"

did he let out a breath? his silence spoke for him. still, you had to be the one to walk away. you couldn't afford any more ghosts.

"same time next week?" you asked, gathering your things.

"not gonna leave it to chance this time, doll?" he asked, getting his things together too, but in a lazy sort of way. his hands moved slowly, reluctantly.

you tried not to stare at them.

you gave him a last look before you left.

"do you want to leave it to chance?" you asked, genuinely.

ugh, chance seemed to say, can't you just do it yourself?

his molten gaze dripped over you like honey. "no," he decided, "no, i wouldn't say that's at the top of my wishlist."

you didn't ask what was.

so, each tuesday night, you tutored him in calculus. and each tuesday night, you learned more about him, and he learned more about you.

you learned about how he got into auto mechanics (he never grew out of his childhood truck phase), why he liked golf (really just an excuse to talk with his friends for a couple of hours), what was so special about hockey (it felt like he could see things that others just couldn't). his favorite candy (sour skittles), his favorite color gatorade (red), his favorite t-shirt (a worn in concert shirt from high school).

but you also learned that he got shy when you complimented him, that he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek when he was about to say something that made you blush, that he got more confident as he got to know you.

his nerves only came out when he grew unsure, and you did your best to make him so, so sure.

and he did get to know you. how you got into your major (data analysis was the family business), why you applied yourself so vigorously in your classes (you didn't know any other way), all about your close friends and family. your favorite soda (cherry coke zero), your favorite frat (pike, only because a couple of your friends were dating brothers there, and they had the goofiest themes), your favorite snack (pretzel goldfish).

he was nothing if not observant, too, so he noticed that you had a special smile for when he got a question right, and that you only wore your hair up when you were extra tired, and that, towards the end of the session, when you were caught off guard, you would lean a little closer to him without realizing.

that was his favorite. when you would lean into his space, just a little more, as if you were pulled towards him by a magnetic force.

and each session, you made him a little more confident, and he made you blush a little bit more. until you both felt utterly comfortable with each other, like you had known each other for ages.

well, as comfortable as you could feel with a person who made you feel like every inch of your skin was on fire. as comfortable as you could feel with someone whose voice made your throat go dry, whose hands made you stutter, whose mannerisms made your stomach flutter.

one tuesday night, late into a session where he had told you he had passed his quiz with flying colors, he twisted his pen in his hand.

"you know, doll," he started, "you should come to a game sometime."

you looked up. "one of your games?" you asked, searching his steely eyes for meaning.

his lip quirked. "yes, one of my games."

here, he might as well have said, have a little more of me.

"unless you don't want to," he added to your silence. "which would also be fine. i don't want to force-"

you stopped him with a hand on his forearm, transporting you both back to that first day. did you imagine him relaxing into your touch, this time?

"i'd love to come," you said, looking him square in the face.

"good," he replied, content.

but nothing could have prepared you for what awaited you that friday night, standing with your friends in the student section of the rink you had never been to.

"how have we never been to a hockey game?" one of them asked, looking around at the crowd.

"basketball's just better," another said, although, to be fair, she was on the club basketball team. "what the hell is icing, anyways?"

"we never had a reason to, i guess," your best friend said in a teasing tone. you shot her a look, to which she raised her hands in surrender. "hey, no judgement," she said, and you laughed.

as soon as quinn was on the ice, though, he had your complete and undivided attention. he skated with a mesmerizing fluidity, hit with a concrete, undeniable kind of force. and he was right - he did see things no one else could see, made connections that you, nor anyone on the ice, could predict until they were already completed.

he was all over the ice, all over this space, he was everywhere. and you were transfixed.

walking back to the house with your friends, they noticed. of course they did.

"oh god, i know that look," one said.

"this is gonna be trouble," another added. was this trouble? was trouble when everything someone did felt like some great treasure you had discovered? was trouble this kind of fire, of comfort, of excitement, of rest?

you shook your head. "calm down, guys," you said. "it's not that serious."

"right," someone said. you didn't believe yourself, either.

"what did you think of the game?" he asked the following tuesday after you had covered enough material to be satisfied.

you were so close to him now, it probably would have been easier to just share a chair. so close you could feel the warmth radiating off of him, could all but feel his chest against your back.

"what did i think of the game?" you repeated lazily.

you could hear his smile in his voice. "yes, doll."

you hummed. how honest could you be, here? what could you get away with?

and maybe it was your closeness to him that made you bold. maybe it was the heat you saw in his eyes that had you leaning your head on his shoulder and looking up at him. you felt his breath rumble through him and into you.

the air sparked.

"thought you were incredible, quinn," you said honestly. "like nothing i've ever seen."

his exhale was shaky as he peered down at you. "yeah?" he asked.

"mhm," you hummed, your body buzzing with his contact, the most you had ever had. something unspoken settled between you like dust.

"you would come again, then?" he asked, hopeful but drowsy.

you couldn't help but smile, a bit, gaze up at him through your lashes. "think i'd have a hard time saying no to you, if 'm honest."

something like wonder misted across his heated gaze. "i like knowing you're there," he said. "like knowing you're thinking about me."

dangerous desire swirled around the two of you, melting your gaze and blurring the lines.

things don't work out like this for you, a voice said, bitter and mocking, drawing the lines up again, sturdy and menacing.

you cleared your throat, lifted your head from his shoulder. if you could look at him, you would have seen that uncertainty swimming in his eyes again, along with something like hurt.

but you couldn't look at him. at the drowsy slouch of his shoulders, the rugged line of his jaw, the glossy want that practically dripped down his face like starry tears.

i'm always thinking about you, you wanted to tell him. i'm sorry.

but you gathered your things, stood up. "i should go."

he was silent for a moment, looked you up and down, gave a small sigh. "okay, doll," he conceded. "on one condition."

you scrunched up your nose in confusion.

"you agree to come golfing with me tomorrow," he said in a completely satisfied tone. "then, you can go."

a million excuses flooded onto your tongue.

"i'm busy tomorrow," you tried, your voice coming out tight.

he waved that off lazily. "me too," he said, something like a smirk growing on his pink lips. "but we're both free at four, so let's plan on that. next?"

you sputtered.

"but i don't know how to golf," you tried.

he ran his tongue along the inside of his cheek. trouble.

"don't worry, doll," he offered. "i'll go real slow for you."

you flushed, almost walked into the doorframe, quickly decided you needed to leave immediately, if you wanted to maintain any level of mystery or dignity.

"fine," you said, already on your way out. it felt like flames were nipping at your heels, biting at your nose. "i'll come."

his smirk deepened, a different look on him. "don't put up much of a fight, do you, doll?"

"i'm leaving," you choked as you walked out, turning to face him one final time. "what if i just didn't want to come?"

he seemed to ponder this for a moment. "i think," he started, "if you really didn't want to come, it wouldn't make you blush like this to say so."

he didn't ask you to think about him, but by the look on his face, you knew he could tell he didn't have to.

so, the following day, you found yourself on the course with quinn.

a terrible, terrible idea, really.

especially considering the want that filled his gaze when he first saw you, catching on your legs before returning up to your eyes.

"showed up for me, did you, doll?" he asked, a hope you recognized tinting his voice a shimmery pink.

you rolled your eyes, but smiled. "you knew i would."

"thank you anyways," he replied, and his genuineness, his honesty, his straightforwardness, it all made you melt. made you want to know what his smile felt like against your neck, what his hands felt like in your hair.

so, as you both made to tee off, you turned to him. "can you help me with my swing, please?"

his gaze softened. liquid steel. "sure, doll," he said, then lined up next to you and explained his way through it.

you bit your lip. "i'm a hands on learner," you said, which was a lie. "i think i need you closer." that part wasn't.

he didn't adopt a cocky smirk, like so many would have. he didn't lean into your act, didn't pounce on the opportunity to show his superiority. he only approached you from behind and reached his arms around you to grip your driver with you, his hands on top of yours, warm and rough.

you could feel each breath he took in your back, felt the solid plane of his chest on your shoulder blades.

"close enough?" he all but whispered into the space between your neck and your shoulder.

something sinful must have possessed you then. "for now," you breathed out.

he went through a swing with you, slow and fluid. you weren't paying attention, not really, but how could you, when he was just so, so close? was this dazed sensation, was that what he felt when you touched him, that first day? or later, in your study room?

but, of course, the swing was soon over, and he reluctantly retreated off to the side.

"your turn, doll," he said.

you took a breath to shake the phantom of his embrace away, then teed off - beautifully straight and hard, arcing through the air like a physics textbook problem.

you looked at him to find a knowing, teasing look on his face. he ran a hand through his hair, displacing the curling ends as he gave a quick laugh.

you smiled. "call me a natural," you offered, shrugging.

"oh yeah?" he said, tilting his head. "how about i call you a liar?"

you leaned forward onto the end of your driver, grin widening. "how about i call you gullible?"

he shook his head, let out a playful scoff. "like you'd ever have to trick me into touching you."

the rest of the round went by quickly, both of your guards down, lost in conversation and high on each other. too soon, it was over.

it was this realization that urged you to act uncharacteristically - in that, you acted according to what you truly felt.

"can i see you tomorrow?" you asked him as he loaded your clubs into the trunk of your car. you didn't cringe as much as you would have a few weeks ago.

he wiped his hands on his shorts, looked at you with something that looked like relief. "think i'd have a hard time saying no to you," he parroted. his ability to remember things about you warmed you from the inside out.

"meet me at the sig nu party tomorrow?" you asked hopefully. "maybe you can meet some of my friends?"

he looked truly touched. "some of the guys are going already since we don't have a morning lift on friday," he said, "so you could meet some of them, too, if you want."

you nodded, flushed with expectation. "see you then," you said, making to get in your car. "and yes, i'll think about you."

his smile as you shut your door was something of dreams.

sigma nu was not one of your favorite frats. their basement was especially dirty looking, their brothers were on the sketchier side, and the never seemed to have enough alcohol to make it through the night.

but one of your friends was talking to one of the brothers, who also played club basketball. so you and the rest of your group were going for moral support. and also because no one else was throwing. it was only a thursday.

you were nervous. you had only just begun to accept that you were really, really into quinn, and you had only just begun to accept that he might, possibly, probably, be just as into you.

it still didn't make much logical sense to you. when had it ever been so simple?

don't talk about logical sense around me, chance would say, that bitch knows what she did.

when you first saw quinn across the crowded room, chance and logical sense and all those divine powers, they all melted away.

it was just him. his hair was messy and his gaze was relaxed and the lights made it look like his face was glowing as he laughed with his friends.

but the crowd got the better of you, for a little while. you danced with your friends, politely escaped several "so, what's your major?" conversations, and actually spent a while talking to your friend's new talking stage.

as you laughed at something, you were internally surprised. this guy seemed perfect for your friend - they shared so many interests, and he was able to laugh at himself easily, which was something that was at the top of her priority list.

after a while of learning enough about him to approve of him graduating from the talking stage, you looked up. of course your gaze was immediately drawn to quinn, closer than you had seen him last.

closer, and yet farther than he had ever been, because he was leaning against the wall, talking to another girl.

you couldn't really see the girl, but it wouldn't have really mattered. it wasn't about her. she was just a girl talking to a guy at a party. a guy who was, in all technical senses, single and available.

it was more so about him, and how close he was to her, how he leaned down to hear her, meaning she could probably smell his all-but-worn-off cologne.

your grip tightened on your red cup as you swallowed.

before, quinn had only ever been yours, because even when you doubted that he could ever return your feelings, he had never given you concrete evidence that he was interested in anyone else. so even though he hadn't been yours, he had been almost yours, probably going to be yours, or something like that.

but here he was, giving you concrete proof that he existed to others, too, that other people could be interested in him and he could be interested back.

and of course that had always been the case. how could you have been so narcissistic? of course people would foster crushes on him, like you did, and of course he was bound to reciprocate eventually, to someone.

you had let yourself believe that you were the center of the world for a moment, of his world, and you hated that.

so, honestly, it was barely even about quinn. this struggle, this was about you.

but if you stripped back everything external, oh, how downright jealous you felt right then.

so jealous that you had to leave, that you couldn't watch anymore. when you got home, you shut the door and exhaled.

what did i tell you? that bitter voice said, things just don't work out that way for you.

you could have growled, now, at how lazy, how self-centered that sounded.

don't look at me, chance would have said, hands raised in surrender, this was all you.

he was just talking to another girl, logical reason would say, that doesn't mean he's not interested in you. you have what, a couple months of history?

and of course reason would be right. of course, you knew, deep down, you didn't have to let this consume you.

but now a tendril of doubt had woven its way into your heart. if you had been so misled by your own ego before, how could you tell if any of it was real? how could you trust yourself to know if this wasn't much more to you than it was to him?

time. you needed some time.

thankfully, that was doable. you went home for break on friday after class, and planned to stay there for the week.

so you stayed home, caught up with your parents, ignored his numerous texts.

it hurt to do so, but you told yourself you needed some distance.

which wasn't that hard, considering he was playing a series of games across the country. you still put on his games though, which your parents noticed.

"didn't even know we got this channel," you dad observed one night as you watched quinn stickhandle around a sloppy winger.

"when did you get into hockey?" you mom asked, never critical. "we could go see a game sometime, if you want."

you started to settle down a bit, really enjoyed the time at home. before you knew it, though, break was almost over.

"sweetheart," you mom called to you on your second to last day, "would you mind taking the car in?"

you were skeptical. "why?"

"they just called," she explained, "said we're due for an urgent oil change."

you thought it was weird that they would call for that, but quinn was supposedly still away, so you figured it wouldn't be that much of an issue.

"sure," you responded. "i'll bring it in now."

you knew it was a trap as soon as you opened your car door at the garage.

the young receptionist approached you quickly with a guilty smile.

"hi, miss bean," you said, trying to gauge what she was about to say.

"look," she rushed, "i didn't want to, and i'm thought the plan was stupid, and i'm sure you're ignoring him for good reason-"

you sighed, knowing what was coming. having walked right into it. "i'm not, really," you stopped her, then felt the need to clarify. "it's not really a good reason."

"what is it, then?" that low voice asked from your side, and everyone else disappeared.

just him, standing there, looking the same as you had last seen him, but so, so different.

the same, because he was just as lovely as you last recalled. was it insensitive to say that he wore his weariness beautifully?

so different, because he just looked so tired. his coveralls did little to hide the slight slouch in his shoulders. a subtle stubble now shadowed his face, making his jaw sharper. and his eyes. that steely stone that had occupied your mind all this time - it was cracking, desperate for something to hang on to.

"just needed some distance," you mustered. you were jarred by his appearance, by being close to him again, just the two of you.

"yeah?" he looked you up and down, that desperate disappointment now running down your figure. there was no malice in his tone. "why, doll? so you can say you were right?" you could have hissed. "so you can go on knowing everything went exactly as you told yourself it would?"

things like this don't work out for you. who had been telling you that, again?

you sucked on your teeth, had no idea what to say. what do you say to someone that sees right through you? the pause settled like sludge. "i thought you were away," you eventually whispered, ignoring his question.

he ran a hand through his hair, let all his grief flood into his eyes. "and i thought it would be a lot harder for you to forget me," he said, "so i guess we're both at a loss."

you took a step forward, then stopped yourself, almost dizzy. "you actually think i would forget you?" you breathed, practically choking on your words.

he scoffed. "what was i supposed to think?" he rubbed his palm against the back of his neck. "i think everything is going well when you ask me to come to this party, then you spend the whole time talking to some other guy-"

your brow furrowed before you understood. "my friend's new boyfriend," you interrupted. to his confusion, you clarified. "i was talking to my friend's boyfriend."

he blinked, registered this information, appeared a bit lighter. "regardless," he sighed, "you were supposed to be talking to me, doll."

"hold on," you said, the memory of jealousy seeping into your bloodstream, "you were talking to someone else, too, quinn." you crossed your arms, images flashing in your mind of him leaning down, his ear much too close to her lips. "and i don't think that was your friend's girlfriend, unless they're trying out an open relationship."

"i just-" he gave a frustrated gesture, looked down at his feet for a moment.

"you what?" you pressed.

he sighed, now flushed. "i just wanted you to look at me."

you both were silent for a beat as you processed his words. you exhaled, took a few steps until you were right in front of him. his eyes flickered down to your mouth, took the long way back up.

you took his face in your hands, his stubble rough under your palms. you knew you didn't imagine the way he softened into you touch.

"surely by now you know you're all i think about," you said, an offering. like some sacrifice at a long-abandoned altar, so terribly desperate, shamefully honest.

so terrible, the way he grabbed at your hip, pulled you forward, against him. so desperate, the way his other hand twisted into your hair.

so shameful, how he captured your lips with his, all brute emotion, sleepy resignation, a million pleas of "look at me" answered with "i never looked away."

so honest, how he just barely whimpered into your mouth when you tightened your grasp on his jaw, kissed him harder. he pulled so slightly on your hair, you slid a hand down to his chest, gathered the collar of his coveralls in your first, trying to get him impossibly closer.

here, you both were practically screaming, here, have some more of me.

someone whistled across the garage. you pulled away from each other with a jump, having gotten a little carried away. quinn flushed on the tips of his ears and shot the culprit a look, which made you let out a light laugh into his chest.

the little rumble made him look down at you, wrap his arms around your waist and clasp them on the small of your back.

you stayed like that for a moment, just looking at each other. stone, molten.

"i have this thing next week," he said eventually, barely anything more than a rasp. "a formal for the team."

you nodded, reached up, twisted a strand of his hair around your finger.

"come with me," he asked, soft. "please."

you didn't have to think about it. "yes."

and so, about a week later, you found yourself at the hockey formal, an event you hadn't known existed a couple of months ago.

the past week had been blissful, but frustrating - you both were so busy, you with schoolwork and tutoring, him with the team. so much so that you could barely see each other outside of your scheduled tutoring session.

needless to say, you were very much looking forward to a weekend away with him. a whole night, just for the two of you.

and the whole night was wonderful. you were introduced to his teammates, saw a new side of him, heard his laugh so many times it made your head spin.

it was all just so easy. even the mess ups, the uncertainty, the silences, those were easy too, because they were with him.

when he stuttered over telling you how beautiful you looked - easy.

when you didn't know how to introduce yourself to his friends, so you just said you were "quinn's..." and then faded out, unsure - that was easy, because you weren't even really lying. your laugh was instinctual, and everyone else's was, too.

when he asked you to dance, reaching his hand out to you, there had never been an easier yes.

you danced with all the beautiful awkwardness of two people who weren't quite sure what they were yet - weren't quite sure how far they could go. there was not a question of how you both felt, but how slow were you taking this?

how slow could you bear?

every touch felt electric, like a gentle flame ignited whereever his hands had been. you felt a shiver erupt when his hand grasped your waist as you both moved together to a simple rhythm.

so up close and personal, you could smell his worn cologne, feel the warmth from his chest.

he gave you a sly smile, something close to a smirk. "okay, doll?"

you bit your lip, peered up at him through your lashes. "you just look so lovely, quinn," you told him, squeezed his hand, gave him a flushed smile. "it's distracting."

he pulled you a little closer, so that your chests were almost touching as you moved across the floor. "yeah?" he asked, his smile lazy, almost shy. "love a suit, do you?"

you tilted your head, met his gaze entirely and absolutely. oh, how much, how deeply you wanted. hadn't your want seemed to fray the fibers of the universe before?

babe, they seemed to remind you, we never cared.

then who was i praying to? you could have asked.

and they would have only shared a look, laughed like two girls at a sleepover.

well, who answered? they would have responded.

what you did do is give a slight shake of your head. "not the suit," you said. "you're distracting."

you watched his eyes become hooded, felt the underlying heat ignite between you. his grip on your waist tightened. "careful, doll," he breathed out, a warning, a plea.

"don't wanna be," you replied. there was a moment of understanding, a pause of anticipation.

"how slow do you want to take this?" almost drowsy with desire, his voice was slow, rough, only for you. "you know i'd go so slow for you, right, doll?"

you nodded. "i know," you assured him, "but i don't want you to."

you thought you heard him mutter a fuck before he was pulling you from the floor, out of the elaborate event room, upstairs to your room at the hotel. everything was a blur as his hand clasped around yours. a desperate escape, fleeing from everything, everyone except him.

and then the door was shutting and he was pushing you up against it, a hand on your hip and the other on your jaw as his lips met yours in a heated kiss that was every bit as desperate, as longing, and terrible and horrible and shameful as the first one.

you were both too far gone to hold back any longer.

you tangled your hands in the hair at the nape of his neck, felt the curls between your fingers.

he tasted like mint and salt and something earthy.

kissing him felt like barbed wire made of gold, flowery rust, somehow the most violent act you had ever committed, yet also the most gentle.

like removing your heart with a cookie cutter, offering it to him on a painted porcelain plate.

you moaned into his mouth, he hissed just a bit as you pulled at his hair.

he pushed his hips up against yours, hiked your leg up around his thigh, making you gasp at the hardness you found across his front.

"more," you murmured against his lips, felt his sly smirk grow against yours.

he moved his hand from your hip to slide up your dress, glide his fingertips along your inner thigh, just barely skirt across your folds. "like this, doll? so wet for me already," he asked, his voice gravelly. "this must be enough then, yeah?"

you shook your head, moved your hips to try to get some friction.

"no?" he said, obviously teasing, "greedy girl, hm? wants even more?" he brought his other hand to your mouth, pressed his thumb against your bottom lip, smirked when you closed your lips around him without a second thought. "what do you say?"

"please," you whined around his hand, in a voice you barely recognized. "please, quinn."

he answered you by dragging his fingers through your folds once before pushing two into you, slow and deep, making you arch your back up off of the door.

"fuck, so tight," he rasped.

you whimpered against his thumb, closed your eyes as you felt his hand move from your mouth to your throat.

"open up, doll," he demanded. "look at me."

you obliged with effort, wrapped an arm around his neck for support, another one bracing the door as he increased his pace, pushing his fingers in and out of you, grazing your clit each time.

your nails dug into his neck as you lost yourself in the sensation, barely registering the way he groaned at the delicious shot of pain.

"this enough, doll?" he cooed, annoyingly smug at how audibly wet you were.

you vigorously shook your head, so desperate to get him to keep going. "no," you pleaded, "fuck, please, quinn, don't stop."

he tightened his hand around your throat just a little, only barely squeezing as he flattened his other palm against your clit, making you moan loudly. "must be ready for me then, yeah?"

you fisted his dress shirt in your hand, pushed yourself off of the door and pulled him onto the bed. "please, need more of you," you begged, nothing more than a prayer, "fuck, want you so bad."

something lovely flooded his gaze as he moved his clothes aside, pulled himself out as you further hiked up your dress.

he spat into his hand, pumped himself up and down in a way that made your mouth water.

you were practically pouting. "please, fuck me, quinn," you said, pathetic and just so fine with it, "'s all i've been thinking about."

and you knew you had said something magical when he groaned and tugged you towards him by the undersides of your thighs, his grip hot and rough, a working man's grip.

"shit," he hissed as he ran his cock up and down your folds once, twice, collecting your wetness there, "'d never say no to you."

you whined when he first pushed into you, so, so deep that you swore you could feel him in the palms of your hands, feel him rattling around in your teeth, behind your eyes.

he moaned like a sinner, clutched at the flesh of your hips so tightly you knew his fingerprints would be left behind later.

as he began to thrust in and out of you, his rhythm hard and even, both of you could barely form words, so lost in the feeling of each other, finally as physically close as you could be.

"fuck," he bit out eventually, his rhythm picking up speed, "so tight, doll. so wet for me, hm?"

you nodded, clenched around him, reached one of your hands forward to rub at your clit, increasing the pressure quickly building inside of you.

he choked out a grunt at the sight of you touching yourself, only making you squeeze him harder. "feels so good, quinn," you whined, "so deep inside me."

he moved one hand up to your calf, hoisted one of your legs up to change his angle, thrusted down into you in a way that hit a dizzying spot inside of you. he kept going, bringing you both closer every minute.

"shit, feel so perfect," he bit out at some point. "made for me, hm?" he asked as you rubbed your clit faster. "squeezing me so perfect, yeah?"

you hummed something like affirmation, your breathing becoming ragged as he hit that spot over and over, his chest rising and falling, his thrusts becoming broken and messy.

"fuck, quinn," you moaned, "fuck, 'm so close."

he groaned. "gonna cum for me, doll?" he asked, letting your calf rest on his shoulder as his hand travelled down to apply only the slightest pressure to your lower stomach.

the sensation, that unique pressure making you feel him impossibly deeper, sent you soaring right to the edge.

"feel you squeezing me," he breathed out, his own voice tight and rough, his chest and stomach flexing as he fought off his own orgasm. "cum for me, doll, yeah? wanna feel you cum on my cock." he squinted with effort. "be good for me, hm?"

and his words sent you spiraling, a wave of pleasure finally crashing, clenching and spasming around him in a way that triggered his own high.

he moaned as he came, his breathing labored as you both collapsed back onto the hotel bed.

effort and satisfaction glowed on your faces, realized desire settling along his cheekbones and on the cupid's bow of your mouth.

there were several moments of easy silence in the warm air, his hand throw lazily around your middle, one of yours resting on his chest.

"can i ask you for something?" you said eventually, looking up at him with tired eyes full of possibility.

"anything, doll," he said, and you remembered back to that first day, in the garage. how easy it was, now, to remember it fondly.

"can i have a kiss, please?" you asked, almost shy, more so gentle.

a smile already played across his mouth. "especially that," he said, eager to comply with your request.

he leaned down to press a fluttering, beautiful kiss to your lips.

well i definitely didn't see this coming, chance stage-whispered to logical reason behind her hand.

i don't really deal with this lovey-dovey kind of stuff, logical reason said, not my thing.

all the divine powers and the fibers of the universe and such, they were silent. perhaps they always had been. perhaps this was much too far out of their jurisdiction.

perhaps it was just none of their business.

fin.

#hockey #nhl #nhl fic #hockey fic #hockey smut #nhl smut #jack hughes #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #quinn hughes x y/n #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes smut #vancouver canucks

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emeritusemeritus · 2 days ago

Note

Ok so I was wondering if you could write a Fred Weasley X sarcastic hufflepuff reader and everyone kinda wonders how shes a hufflepuff because she comes off as bitchy but like she super caring with Fred and he’s like the only one that really sees that side of her

Hi Anon! I have to admit I got a little carried away with this one (what’s new). I started writing just a normal fic but it grew beyond measure because I fell in love with the snarky little Hufflepuff I was writing. I hope you enjoy! 🖤

**Part 2 is is HERE**

**important: I wrote this in mind following a masquerade ball that had already happened within the story to mark the anniversary of Hogwarts. **

Warnings: Unrequited love, idiots in love, friends to lovers all the usual divine tropes. Happy ending I promise. Minor sexual references, 1 mention of masturbation, George fancies Angelina. Slight angst? We have a massive crush on Freddie. Bonus points for anyone who knows where the title is from.

Word count: 3.8k (Oops I did it again)

But who can name the face?

"Nerds," you nod in greeting, a wide grin plastered on your face as you barge through their dorm room door, smirking to the two twins who sit hunched over their creations, trying to perfect a new product. George's nose was almost pressed into the book he was reading and Fred was tinkering with something you couldn't make out, probably an explosive of some sort. You jump onto George's bed, the closest one to you and kick off your shoes.

"Make yourself at home," George snarks, shooting a playful glance to you.

"Thanks Georgie I will," you beam, purposefully ignoring the sarcasm dripping from his words. He rolls his eyes with a smile before focusing back on the page.

"Earth to Fred?" You say, noticing a few moments later that he hadn't greeted you. You frown, hearing nothing back and George shoots a glance to you again before turning to his twin, kicking him swiftly in the shin.

"Git," Fred mutters, rubbing his shin and finally noticing that you were here.

"Hello to you too," you snark, watching as his eyes squint mockingly at you.

"Sorry your ladyship, didn't realise you required my full attention," he snarks, expecting a reaction that he doesn't get.

"Well I do," you nod, your voice and face completely blank until you erupt in a smirk that he mirrors.

"What are you working on?"

"Wait how did you get in here? You're a Hufflepuff!" George gestures to the Gryffindor boys dormitory you're sat in, but your face reveals nothing. Fred knows because of course he does, you've been here more times than you can count but George is usually not here when you sneak in.

"I believe I asked a question first, but if you must know," you lean in towards George, acting as if you were going to reveal an entire catalogue of secrets to him. "I'm a witch."

The deep sigh that George lets out only increases your devilish smile that you share with Fred, widening still when you hear him burst with laughter, the sound of his boisterous laugh filling your body with warmth. He had the most gorgeous laugh and you couldn't help but admire how handsome he looked when he laughed, eyes shining.

"Sodding woman," George mutters under his breath as he picks up the book again, pretending to read. You don't miss the smirk that's threatening to slip from his lips that he's trying so hard to conceal, making you feel a little victorious.

"So back to me, what are you working on?"

"Love potions," Fred says absently, as if it wasn't a big deal.

Your stomach roils dangerously, a sinking feeling settling in your lower tummy as Fred's words.

"Love potions?" You repeat, hardly hiding the frown on your face. You look between the twins but they offer nothing in the way of clues. Fred finally looks up to you again, shrugging slightly as he explains.

"Figured we could start selling them at the shop, break into the girly market. These are just drafts, we realised early on we don't have a bloody clue what we're doing with them."

"Draft draughts?" You joke, squashing down any uneasy feelings you felt. George snorts and Fred chuckles at your words as he nods, enjoying the stupid pun.

"Fancy helping a mate out?" He asks, trying to reel you into helping with whatever he was tinkering with, holding his hand out for you to take. "Could do with your expertise little badger."

You roll your eyes at the nickname but hop off George's bed to grab his hand, letting him lead you over to look at his little experiment, seeing a kind of heart shaped bottle that he was trying to transfigure. You offer to help him transfigure it into more of a heart and somehow manage to tint the glass pink which they both like.

"So why the sudden need to break into the girly market?" You ask, head cocked slightly as you look upon the bottle that you're quite proud of.

"Got love on the brain doesn't he," George says with a laugh, only to duck a moment later when Fred lobs a book at his head.

"What?" You ask, trying to sound neutral but fearing you were failing miserably.

"Met a girl the other night didn't he, hasn't shut up about her since," George adds, clearly unbothered by Fred's reaction as he ducks another flying object thrown by his bemused twin.

"You wouldn't shut up about her if you met her," he grumbles, cheeks filling with a vibrant blush. "Didn't even know girls could be that attractive, she was perfect mate."

"What from the half of her face that you saw?" George snarks, a loud 'ow' echoing through the room as he fails to duck this time.

You don't hear anymore, your heart pounding in your chest and you feel sick almost instantly, the room seeming to spin around you. Fred had met someone at the masquerade ball.

The Masquerade Ball was an extravagant affair marking the one thousandth year of Hogwarts since the founding of the school in 996AD. In honour of the ancient traditions, a masquerade ball had been held which would bring all the students together regardless of their assorted houses. You could be as anonymous as you wished, no need to disclose your house or your name and dates were not permitted in an effort to unite the school free from the usual restrictions that naturally came from house only events. Due to the enchantments upon the school, the masks were implemented to hide your identity for the night with made everything even more magical. You'd had a wonderful night, second only to the Yule ball though you really couldn't compare them.

You remembered now that you hadn't seen Fred all night, not for your lack of trying and now it all makes sense why. You need to get out before the tears really start, your world feeling like it was crumbling around you.

"Sorry, forgot about my potions work," you say quickly, reaching for your shoes and rushing out of the door before either of them could notice your tears.

You barely make it out of Gryffindor tower when your tears begin to stream down your face, lip wobbling as their words echo through your mind. You run to the nearest bathroom, praying that it's empty and rush into a cubicle to allow yourself some privacy in your heartbroken state.

You'd had a crush of Fred Weasley forever. The unlikely pair that you were, the hufflepuff and the Gryffindor brought together by mischief. You'd started falling for him in your second year but managed to keep it quiet, to push it away and keep it hidden in the hopes that it would fade over time... but it didn't. By your fourth year you had a full blown crush and by your fifth you were convinced you loved him. Every summer you wished that upon your return to school that your feelings would have disappeared or at least faded but the second that he'd smile at you, throwing his arm around you in a warm greeting you knew that your hoping was pointless. You'd spent years perfecting your ability to hide your feelings from him, torturing yourself in private to allow you to keep feelings-free around him. You reasoned that it was better to have him in your life as a best friend than to be without him completely and you were fine with that, at least until now. There's never been another girl as far as you remembered. Sure his friendship with Angelina sometimes made you jealous but you were sure that George fancied her and Fred was just trying to rile him up most of the time to get a reaction. But this mystery girl, he'd fallen for him without even knowing her, without even seeing her full face. She's stolen him away from you without a single thought and you didn't even know who she was to hate her.

Once you'd gotten most of your feelings out, you thought of the one thing that had kept you going all week. The irony of the situation wasn't lost on you, but it was different for you.

You'd also met someone at the ball, the masked man with the black hair and robes so entrancing that he'd actually made you forget about Fred entirely for the short time you spent together. He had a magic laugh, magnetic really that made you feel drawn to him even without knowing anything about him. You'd felt connected to him instantly, even as your eyes searched for Fred in the crowd of people but finding nothing. At least now you knew where he was.

You let out a sigh, wiping your last couple of tears with the sleeve of your robe as you took deep breaths to steady yourself. How could you go on from this? The masked man had been your dirty little secret that you'd never intended to go anywhere, as much as he kept sneaking into your mind.

Fred Weasley would never be yours. It was a fact, as excruciating as it was to admit. Someone else had turned his head, not that he was ever really looking at you and all you could do is sit back and watch with thoughts of your mystery man to keep you company.

You managed to avoid Fred and George for the next two days pretty successfully. You weren't as popular as them but you had some good friends in Hufflepuff that you chose to sit with at meal times and stayed within the common room for most of your free time, knowing that Fred and George couldn't find you there.

"Are you coming to dinner?" One of your friends asks, waiting for you in the common room as you finish up the chapter of the book you were reading.

"Yeah sure," you say, placing in your bookmark and casting your book onto the side.

You follow her out of the common room past the barrels into the dark corridor and scream as you're dragged away by two strong figures. You look back to your friend in alarm seeing her mouth a half-hearted 'sorry' and try to fight off your attackers, quickly getting the sense of who was manhandling you.

"Put me down, idiots!" You say struggling against their weirdly strong grasps, not stopping until you were placed onto a bench in the next corridor. You look up and see Fred and George towering over you, their eyes fixed into hard stares as they look at you, Fred with his arms crossed and George with his hands in his pockets, shoulders stiff.

"You've been avoiding us," George accuses, openly saying the words that you knew were true. You can't bring yourself to deny it, or avoid the question, all you can think is how to make an excuse that would explain it all.

"No excuses," Fred says, clearly reading your face. Damn him for knowing you so bloody well.

"I've been busy," you say, lifting an eyebrow at them.

"Yeah, busy avoiding us," Fred says, his lips pursing a little as he looks down at you.

"Busy doing school work," you counter.

"Oh yeah what class?" George asks, though you can tell in his void that he's not falling for it one bit.

"All of them," you say, quickly adding, "you know I get surprisingly little work done when I'm with you two, funny that."

"Yeah nice one, tell it to my mother," Fred says completely deadpan. You sigh, knowing you're not going to get out of this one alive.

"I've just been busy," you say, lowering your barriers a little but keeping that little confession of love stored neatly tucked away where it would never come out no matter how open you were being. "Needed a couple of days to myself... people were starting to think I was a Gryffindor."

Fred's face remains unchanged but you can see the ghost of a smile pulling at George's face.

"It wasn't you, I just had a lot going on," you say with complete honesty, well maybe not complete.

"Needed a couple of days to get my head together, I've been drowning in homework and I'm think I'm failing charms. I honestly just needed a couple of days to sort myself out before they send an owl home and my parents would know how much in disappointing them."

Okay so not a complete lie, but not the complete truth either.

"Why didn't you tell us?" Fred says, his harsh glaze slipping from his face as he crouched down beside the bench you're sat on, his head still inline with yours at his astronomical height. George relaxes in front of you, scooting you across so he can sit on the other side of the bench. You feel awful essentially lying to them, though it was more altered truth but you could face them knowing, especially Fred.

"Embarrassed, mortified, horrified, you choose."

"It's us, you don't need to be embarrassed with us," George says softly. Usually your relationship was filled with vicious banter so seeing him so soft and kind with you was nice if not a little off putting.

"Anyway, now I have you back," Fred says with a smirk blooming on his face.

"We," George adds, shooting a look to his twin.

"Eh? Oh yeah... how come you never told us your common room was down here?! You could have been sneaking us treats this whole time!"

"Would have saved our legs many a trip to the kitchens!"

"Length of your legs it only takes three steps," you quip back to George who smiles widely.

"There she is," Fred says smiling at you. It's a beaming smile, eyes glimmering and it makes your heart burst to know that it's all for you. Fred suddenly stands, holding out his hand for you to take as you hop off the bench but to your surprise he doesn't let go and instead pulls you away, still holding your hand as you walk around the corner to the kitchen corridor, passing the painting of the silver fruit bowl that conceals the entrance to the kitchens.

"See all those times you've apparently come up to our room, could have brought the snacks," george says, bumping your shoulder as he nods to the door as you make your way past it. "All you have to do is," George says, walking in sync and surprisingly saying nothing at his brother's hand in yours.

"If you think I'm going to stop and tickle the pear every time I come to see you," you begin to say, only to be cut off by Fred.

"You can tickle my pair anytime, babe."

"Shove off Weasley," you say with a bite, trying to recover from his words quickly and fight off the blush that threatens your heating cheeks as they laugh amongst themselves.

"Well if you're offering," George says from the other side, to which you side step and hold out your foot, causing him to trip. He catches himself quickly before he falls but it's still pretty funny, as made apparent by yours and Fred's laughter.

"Thought you Hufflepuffs were supposed to be nice!"

"Coming from you?" You counter, sending a frown towards him, able to list off the top of your head a multitude of times he'd pranked someone, caused damage or injury and that was mainly just to yourself.

"She is nice," Fred quickly defends, shooting his brother a dung-eating grin, "to me at least."

You chuckle and carry on walking, watching out for George's revenge.

"Hold up, wait here," Fred suddenly says, coming to an abrupt halt near the main atrium. He grabs your arm to stop you, his hand breaking free from yours as he holds up a finger and runs back down the corridor.

You watch his figure disappear and squeeze your now unoccupied hand, your body already missing his touch. Truthfully the past few days had been torture being away from them, namely Fred, but it was necessary to contain the feelings that has threatened to burst out of you like a broken remembrall.

Suddenly there's a gasp to your side and you spin around quickly on your heel to face George, who is looking at you with wide eyes and a Zouwu like grin etched upon his face. You frown in confusion, not knowing what he's looking at until your entire body fills with dread with his next words.

"You're in love with him!"

You panic, not knowing what to do with the information. You can hardly deny it, it would be impossible to hide from George now he knew and you're certain that your reaction has given you away, so you go to the next default setting: threats.

"One word comes out of your mouth to anyone and I'll tell Angelina that I walked in on you wanking over her!"

George faces pales for a second before his cheeks heat up with a vivid red blush that spreads the full length of his face.

"But that didn't."

"Your old friend... Angelina Johnson... the Qudditch team captain," you say, ignoring his looks as you tilt your voice to sound more and more disgusted at his behaviour with every passing word.

"What? You can't."

"Naked on a broom, George Weasley! Could you be any more depraved?"

"Alright fine!" He says, holding his hands up in surrender, not wanting to push you further and find out that you weren't bluffing.

"I won't say anything to Fred," he promises, looking genuine in his agreement.

It's awkward now, the silence that follows as you come to terms that George is in on your secret now.

You don't look at him any longer, instead fixing your gaze to the stone floor as you consider the implications. Had you looked at George, you'd have noticed him battling with himself, fighting over what to say next. It wasn't his secret to tell, he shouldn't even be considering breaking him twin's confidence but the look on your face right now was enough to break whatever morality he had.

"You know... he's," George begins to say, your gaze drifting up towards him as you look into his eyes, expecting laughter or mocking but finding none.

"He's what?" You ask, confused about his sudden stop, eyes widening.

"He's coming."

"I was only gone for a minute, you two haven't fallen out already have you?" Fred jokes, his pockets clearly stuffed with treats that he'd acquired from the kitchens.

"No," you and George say at precisely the same time. So much for not looking suspicious. Fred trots off ahead urging you both to follow and you do so willingly and silently, hardly trusting yourself to speak in that moment as you feel George's eyes on you.

"Everything alright with y/n earlier? She seemed upset when I got back. Are you sure you didn't say anything to her?" Fred asks, taking off his tie and his school shirt as he undresses for bed, calling to George who's doing the same on the other side of the room.

"I didn't say anything mate," George says, "reckon you're thinking about her too much."

"Just being a friend," Fred says, perhaps a little too quickly.

"Well between 'being a friend' to y/n and your mystery woman, you certainly are doing a lot of thinking... reckon if you ignore one of them you might finally figure out that love potion," George says grinning as he climbs into bed.

"Shove off," Fred says, climbing into his own bed and pulling the curtain across with a harsh shove. He lays in bed unsettled for what seems like hours, his mind spinning between his friend and his mystery woman, realising with a sad conclusion that he'd gotten absolutely nowhere with either one of them.

♡

Fred Weasley was certain that his eyes had never been blessed enough to look upon something so captivating, so enchanting that it made his mouth dry. There was a sea of people around dressed in their fanciest clothes, an opulent symphony of colour and glitter, yet she stood out amongst the crowd like a singular lighthouse in a vast, dark ocean.

He was enthralled by the way her dress moved, clinging perfectly to her figure, highlighting the delicate curves and lines of her body whilst staying modest. It was arousing, the way her dress offered so much but showed so little, Fred's imagination running wild of what lay underneath.

She was beautiful, the most beautiful woman Fred had even laid eyes upon, he was certain. Her dress shining under the twinkling lights, her seductive smile and those eyes that seemed to twinkle all on their own even without the glistening reflection of the lights above her.

He was certain that he was the luckiest bloke in the room; that every other male was envious of the way his hand was wrapped tightly around her waist. But he didn't care what anyone thought or of their jealousy in the moment, he just couldn't believe his luck. They were pulled together as if my an invisible string, finding each other quickly as the music played around them, the soft lights acting like a runway between them both, eyes connecting almost immediately.

"Are you going to tell me your name?" He asks with a smirk, losing himself in her eyes as they seem to glimmer even more at his words.

"I don't think that's how masquerade balls work," she says with a laugh, earning a chuckle from him.

"What about your house?" He follows up, needing to know something about her even if it's tangible evidence.

The smile she flashes him makes him almost dizzy, sparkling eyes peering up at him from beneath her mask.

"Only if you can guess it," she counters, leading him down a dark path of guessing who she might be.

"Sorry I think you've hit your limit on questions," she says as the song changes. "Perhaps I could ask you some?"

"You can ask me anything... except my name," he smirks from under his mask, his tongue peeking out to wet his lips briefly under your gaze.

"Are you single?"

His laughter is contagious and she finds herself chuckling along with him as his hand at her waist squeezes her tighter momentarily for her cheekiness.

"Definitely," he replies softly, though he can't help but feel a little stab at the thought of his best friend, wishing for years that he could say that he wasn't single in the slightest.

♡

Fred wakes with a start, confused for a moment as to his whereabouts having jumped so quickly from his dream to reality. He was back there again, his mind so fixed on his mystery woman that every dream was a recollection of that night, though this time he was certain that there was something different. Had his mystery date always sounded so much like y/n?

Part 2 anyone?

#emeritusemeritus #emeritusemerituswrites #harry potter #fred weasley #fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x you #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley masterlist #requests #requests completed #anon answered

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star-bursts-industries · 1 day ago

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Brian currently consumed by SMAU thoughts. There’s so much potential.

Andrew and Neil are NEVER online. They have accounts because they have too, but there’s only like….5 photos on their pages combined. And it’s like press photos. They post like Harry Styles ok. Once in a blue moon and you have no idea if it’s them or the press team (it’s definitely the press team).

Allison is purposely chaotic, the ultimate f you to her family. She stirs shit up just because she can.

Dan and Renee are properly trained little media girlies. Pretty photos and pretty tame, Dan sometimes gets out of hand if provoked but it’s never anything to crazy.

Seth is banned from having access to his accounts like once a month for posting offensive shit simply because he doesn’t know how NOT to be an asshole.

Matt is a FUCKING comedian. He also professionally shit posts. Movie critics, exy stats and ultimate professional trash talk.

Kevin is basically a professional exy account, the only thing on his account is exy and he’s like the least controversial because all he does is talk about exy. Sometimes he gets a little harsh with his criticism.

Nicky is one of those accounts everyone sees but no one really follows you know? He’s funny but in a wtf way? Bro is all jokes, thats IT. He also faces near monthly expulsion from his accounts but for inappropriate behavior in the public sphere.

Aaron funnily enough has the most followers out of all of them, even Kevin. Aaron’s account is basically faceless and he just posts candid shots of his life. Like look at my ice coffee, watch me study, here’s a time laps of me cleaning my dorm. Aaron is followed by a lot of people even people who don’t care about exy for the soul purpose of he somehow became one of those accounts that just gives people motivation. Funnily enough he did it by complete accident, he started posting photos for the soul purpose of keeping in touch with the friends he wasn’t supposed to have because Andrew. It exploded without him meaning too.

Even funnier? The other foxes have NO IDEA. Aarons internet handle is something dumb and not at all related to his name. So they all think Aaron is using the fact he’s the least problematic child to get out of media duty, and since Aaron doesn’t post his face online they don’t realize those photos that always go viral across the PSU campus are Aaron.

Wymack knows. Wymack has decided this is INFACT above his pay grade ( he also thinks its both funny and good for Aaron, since Aaron is usually the fox that gets looked over)

Aaron doesn’t pay that much attention to the numbers his posts make either. Bro really just likes pulling one on the other foxes.

Also study with me posts help keep him accountable for how he spends his own time.

#aaron minyard #matt boyd #the foxhole court #aftg #all for the game #kevin day #andrew minyard #neil josten #allison reynolds #renee walker #dan wilds #david wymack #seth gordon #aftg au #aftg SMAU #aftg social media au #aftg shitpost #aftg socmed au

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monnisaurus · 2 days ago

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I think the issue here is that you might have a different perspective of the experience of watching all that, or even just a different response to it.

I won't deny there must be lots people laughing at her cause... People 🤷🏽‍♀️. But also, you can laugh at the situation as a whole. That said, when I watched it my friends and I were the only ones laughing - as silently as we could -, all for pretty similar reasons.

Because it was so funny, realising how I was there in a movie theatre and, for the first time in my life, it really clicked how utterly ridiculous is what we put ourselves through to please disgusting men who don't wash their hands and look at us with that scanning eyes of them.

Even though I knew it all already, while watching I realised I actually didn't really got it until that point.

And it was funny seeing what she put herself through. Seeing her doing her fucking very best to look right and presentable, despite what she saw on the mirror and despite she felt like shit with what I interpreted as an insane level of body dismorfia. To witch, same girly

And it was so funny because sitting there I kinda realised how ridiculous I've been every time I harmed and pushed myself to please a cruel, uncaring audience, just because that's what I've been taught would make me valuable.

So yeah, I was laughing. Not at her, but at me.

Cause she is in utter distress, falling down a pit of her own making to please this ungrateful audience. And it's so fucking funny how I'm feeling so insanely empathetic and relatable to a fucking horror movie.

It was kinda an "I laugh because I don't know what else to do" feeling. Like I'd probably have cried if I wasn't trying to process everything going on in real time.

The number of people laughing in the theater, during the penultimate scene of The Substance, made me feel like I was in the goddamn twilight zone. Look at what she’s become, she did it all for you. She’s still trying to put on a perfect show so you’ll love her. Her hair is burning off in the curling iron, she can’t put on her earrings, and you’re laughing at her. Where’s your empathy for the monster? Haven’t you ever hated yourself that much? It’s still her. It’s all you. Her despair drags ever deeper and you’re laughing

#plus to that it was launched here in spring #so we're all punishing ourselves one way pr another because we dont have a “summer body”#also sorry this movie has me having too many feelings and I'm still processing most of them #The substance #spoilers

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novvabee · 11 hours ago

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The Boys in the Band

AN: I got carried away with this one, but here is the second part to the band au

word count: 2.8k

cw: language? there is nothing really bad about this one.

Since your first show, you had been quite busy. You had opened for a couple bands at The Common Room, you booked a few nights at the popular club, The Hog’s Head, and managed to snag a spot in another festival. You had become popular very quickly amongst the girls, gays, theys, and young people in the city. Each gig you noted more and more fans, crowds growing, singing so loud and dancing so hard.

This is what you always dreamed of, performing and making people happy. You lived for the drama and theatrics of it all, dressing up on stage and singing your heart out. The girls felt the same electricity, the same passion as you. That made your bond as a group that much stronger.

Not to mention, you were all good friends. Lily had mentioned to you that she and Mary had been messing around and found out they actually sounded really good together. Then they asked Marlene if she would play drums, which she said yes to in a heartbeat. And then Lily realized they needed a front woman, someone who could sing and bring the most energy. She thought of you, your bold and fierce attitude, your flirty and fun personality. And that is how you started.

The four of you wrote all the music you performed; the fun and girly songs by Mary, the campy over-the-top songs about women by Marlene, the sad and slow ballads by yourself, and the thought provoking and experimental ones by Lily.

Mary had the upbeat, girly, pop songs down. Her personality just flowed with inspiration for them, so those were the types of songs that you mostly sang and performed. You weren’t complaining, her songs were half the fun.

Marlene was full of something you all liked to tease her about; lesbian angst. But all that angst made for great songs to perform and were usually the crowd favorites.

Lily was slightly different, she was full of thoughts and ideas about the world, and her medium to get them out of her brain and into the world, was through music and lyrics. She wrote a lot of songs for women, for rights for all and for political change. If you had to pick, you would say hers were by far your favorites. She didn’t write often, but when she did, she had a message, something to say. You loved that about her.

Your songs were all ballads and sad. The girls teased you about that too, saying you shouldn’t let a man make you cry. It wasn’t exactly your fault, you had just gotten out of a long term relationship, and were drawing inspiration from all the confusing, mixed feelings that came with that.

You had been dating this boy, Matthew, for about a year and a half, but everything seemed to take a turn for the worse a couple months ago. Your once sweet and charming boyfriend had turned into this cold, vacant man right in front of you. You two argued all the time, about small things as well as very important, serious things. He started accusing you of sneaking around, hiding things from him, cheating on him. None of it was true, and you tried to tell him that, but he wouldn’t listen to reason.

So you had enough. You told him that if you two couldn’t work things out, you didn’t know if you could continue on. He said nothing, just agreed with you. He didn’t try to mend the broken relationship, didn't try to fight either for you or with you. You would’ve taken either, but he just walked away.

As much as you tell yourself you’re doing so much better, that you have moved on and don’t care about him anymore, that isn’t exactly true.

You leaned into the band to distract yourself, putting everything you had in it so that you wouldn’t be left with those feelings. You’re just glad you had your friends, your girls who not only could help you through it, but also help you see this band through. They ignited you.

You felt that way even just sitting on the floor of Mary’s apartment. The space was cute and cozy. You girls were sprawled out over fluffy rugs, a plush couch, and two oversized bean bags.

Mary was nodding her head along to a beat that only she could hear, writing down what you could only guess were new lyrics. Lily was strumming a tune she had been working on for over a week. You and Marlene were talking about what to wear for your upcoming show.

“I think you'd look good in that pink leotard with the matching cowgirl boots.” Marlene recommended.

“The pink tassels or the pink heart?” you asked.

She thought for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “The tassels, that way you can wear the boots and maybe a cowboy hat,” she paused looking at the other two, “maybe we can try out Pink Pony?”

Excited, you clapped your hands together. You had been dying to perform this new song in front of a crowd and this was the perfect opportunity. You were playing at The Common Room again, but this time it was only you. Unlike every other performance you had, this time there were no openers, and no one else after you. You got a whole set for yourselves and the whole night to perform and party with fans.

The night was going to be nothing short of magical.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

James followed Remus and Sirius into the stage door of The Common Room.

All three boys wanted to come and see the performance that The Pixies were giving tonight. They had gained a lot of traction recently, seemingly overnight.

James didn’t feel at all jealous or threatened, they were doing just as well themselves, and they made entirely different music. He was more curious as to the fact that this band came out of nowhere.

The Marauders were used to competition revolving around the music world. They had been doing this for a while now, they understood the fight to fill spots and book sets. This band was just another contender now.

James was more frequently used to The Snakes stealing their gigs or spots in festivals, but now even they were pushed aside for this new band. The Snakes was led by Sirius’s little brother Regulus, another person on the list James hadn’t spoken to in a while. James knew that Regulus was a grudge holder, hell, he was related to Sirius, so he shouldn’t be surprised that Regulus cut all contact.

He fucked up, he knew he did. But he still wasn’t ready to think about it.

Slipping through the crowd and continuing to follow as best he could, all three boys ended up in the back of the already packed room.

“Holy shit,” Sirius began, “there are so many people. How much were tickets?” He asked Remus.

Remus answered with a head shake. “Don’t know, Lily told me to come in through the back door so we wouldn’t have to pay.”

James’s stomach sunk, maybe he shouldn’t have come. Lily didn’t even invite him, he just tagged along with Remus. But, she had to have known that would happen, right? The boys didn’t do anything or go anywhere without each other.

“Oh my god! Hi,” came a voice from a girl to his right. “You’re The Marauders right? I love you guys. I’ve been to, like, a bunch of shows.” James recognized this girl. She was always front row or close enough, always giving Sirius a look that showed she wanted to fuck him, or at least become a groupie. “Could I get a pic?” she asked.

Sirius smirked. “Course you can sweetheart.” he said while she handed her phone to someone she was with. She stood between Remus and Sirius for the photo, then thanked the boys, obviously wanting the interaction to continue.

James did not. He would look like such an asshole taking pictures with fans at Lily’s show.

The thought was cut short when the house lights dimmed and the stage turned a hazy pink color. James lost every thought in his head when you came out on stage.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Walking out onto the stage, you were met by a wall of sound, cheers and screams. Your nerves and butterflies instantly fluttered away. This is where you were meant to be, up here on this stage, in front of a crowd, making music. You had dreamed of this since you were a little girl.

You pranced yourself out in a cowboy hat and high heel boots, a matching sparkly and intricately tasseled leotard to top it all off. Your ass may be out, but that was the fun of it, the aesthetic. Especially for the new song you had prepared for the night.

“Hello my friends.” you said, the cheers and screams somehow getting even louder. “We are The Pixies,” you introduced, “and we are here to give you the night of your life.”

You looked around the crowd to see so many faces enhanced with intricate and beautiful makeup looks, so many fans copying looks from your previous performances, so many bodies in bright colors. So many people who felt confident in what they were wearing and how they looked.

“We’re gonna start off with a new one if that’s ok with you.” You announced you got an astounding amount of cheers, noting many phones launch into the air to record this new one. “This song is a fun one but more importantly,” you paused, the whole crowd hanging on your breath, “it is about what my mother thinks I am doing with my life. Here is Pink Pony Club!”

The girls started playing the intro and you walked to the front of the stage, sitting down, legs dangling off.

I know you wanted me to stay

But I can't ignore the crazy visions of me in LA

And I heard that there's a special place

Where boys and girls can all be queens every single day

You stood, walking back to center stage.

I'm having wicked dreams of leaving Tennessee

Hear Santa Monica, I swear it's calling me

Won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream

You whipped around to the audience

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

You started dancing and jumping around stage, Lily and Mary joining you, smiles plastered on their faces

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

The audience had settled into the performance, had gotten into the groove of the song, and joined in the dancing and the fun.

I'm up and jaws are on the floor

Lovers in the bathroom and a line outside the door

Blacklights and a mirrored disco ball

Every night's another reason why I left it all

I thank my wicked dreams a year from Tennessee

Oh, Santa Monica, you've been too good to me

Won't make my mama proud, it's gonna cause a scene

She sees her baby girl, I know she's gonna scream

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

The crowd was going crazy, right along with you, until you slowed down and the girls played quieter for the bridge.

Don't think I've left you all behind

Still love you and Tennessee

You're always on my mind

And mama, every Saturday

I can hear your southern drawl a thousand miles away, saying

God, what have you done?

You're a pink pony girl

And you dance at the club

Oh mama, I'm just having fun

On the stage in my heels

It's where I belong down at the

You jumped up and danced like crazy, the crowd joining in, loving this new song. Some picked up on the lyrics and were singing them back to you, the feeling indescribable.

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing down in

West Hollywood

I'm gonna keep on dancing at the

Pink Pony Club, Pink Pony Club

I'm gonna keep on dancing

You kept dancing as Lily and Mary played the outro, out of breath and so happy. Once the song was finished, the whole building was filled with cheering. You looked to Mary, then over to Lily, they looked just as ecstatic, you could imagine Marlene felt the same.

“Thank you, thank you!” you said into the mic. “Well, if you like that Common Room, we’re just getting started.”

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

James had never seen a concert, a band like yours. There was no way to describe it, you were just, stars already.

The rest of the concert was filled with just as much fun, joy as the first song. The dancing and singing and laughing was indescribable.

The boys waited after the concert, waited until the last of the fans trickled out, then they made their way backstage. Walking down the halls and to the dressing room that had a piece of paper with the word “Pixies” in bold letters, Remus knocked on the door.

The giggling and sounds of excitement were radiating from the room, loudly even with the door shut.

They waited for a moment before the door pulled open, revealing Mary. The smile dropped from her face for a moment before she put another one in its place, this one though, was more of an uncomfortable grimace more than anything. “Hey! I didn’t know you guys were here.” Mary said, opening the door to let the boys slide through. She hugged each of them on their way in.

James made eye contact with Lily who was on the couch with Marlene. She didn’t break away. He quickly looked over to Marlene and smiled. “We wanted to come and say great show!” he said, directed at them all, but not being able to look away from Marlene, who just smirked, knowing the situation and that James was incredibly uncomfortable right now.

“Thanks.” Marlene replied smoothly.

Sirius noted the tension and decided to break it. “Where is she?” he asked.

All eyes went to him as Mary asked “Y/N?”

He looked at her and rolled his eyes, “No, the queen.” he said sarcastically.

“Are you going to try to sleep with her?” Mary asked, not holding back.

“What, no!” Sirius denied as if it wasn’t exactly something Sirius would do. “I just want to meet her. ‘Know thy enemy’ and all that.”

Lily scoffed. “She’ll be out in a minute, I think she's taking off her makeup.”

And as if right on que, you waltzed right out of the connected bathroom and into the dressing room. Smiling, you looked at the boys standing across from the couch.

“Here she is!” Mary ushered you over, chipper and still energized from the performance. “This is Y/N, Y/N these are the boys in The Marauders.”

Your smile grew. “The Marauders? You guys were amazing at the festival.”

Sirius smiled back at you, charming as ever. “‘I'm Sirius.” you looked to the next boy, who was glancing at a fuming Lily.

“Uh, I’m James.” He smiled, seeming to come back to reality and out of whatever thought he was lost in.

You looked at the final boy, tall and leaning against the wall. “And you’re Remus, right?” you asked.

He nodded. “Yeah we met a while back, lovely to see you again.”

“Lovely to see you! And it is lovely to finally meet you two.” you said to the newly acquainted Sirius and James, they nodded and smiled politely. There was a noticeable tension between everyone in the room, was there really that much of a rivalry?

“I think the boys were just heading out,” Mary said to the three boys standing in front of her. “Isn't that right?”

Sirius huffed and led the other two out throwing a “See you all soon.” over his shoulder as Mary escorted and followed them out into the hallway, shutting the door beyond her.

“That was… strange.” you said to Lily and Marlene. They just looked at each other and laughed, rolling their eyes. You didn’t understand.

“They're idiots.” Marlene supplied.

“They're boys.” Lily corrected.

Taglist 💌: @adharalikethestar @mayuwolfstar @ieatboysalive @maraudereestauderelb @bugg06 @slytherinambitious (yell at me if I forgot anyone)

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