#the guy freddy felt the need to punch was never heard from again

[tryingsomethinghere]

Fredy, holding a sprained wrist: I punched somebody.

Daphne: Fredy, you should never punch anybody!

Fredy: I know, violence isn't the answer-

Velma: I mean, violence is always AN answer.

Daphne: I meant you, specifically, shouldn't punch people.

Shaggy: You don't have the wrists for it.

Daphne: Stick to hammer strikes or heel palm strikes.

Velma: Or drone strikes.

[forzalando]

Flustered | Fred Weasley

Pairing: Fred Weasley x F!Reader Word Count: 2.5k Warnings: mentions of underage drinking and alcohol, tickling, making out Summary: Your flirty friendship with Fred Weasley comes to a resolution after an argument surrounding the Yule Ball that took place all those years ago. 

A/N: hi friends! this is a Fred Weasley fic based on a tik tok i saw last night (all credit for the bolded line goes to the creator of the tik tok). also thank you to @gcdric for discussing this with me very late last night, i hope it turned out well omg i’m NERVOUS. anyway! off we go. please let me know if you’d like to be added to my taglist! i’m updating it since i was on hiatus for awhile! love you guys!

As you sat on the couch of the Burrow, your eyes fixated on the many pictures in the Weasley’s living room, your mind began to drift off with thoughts of the freckled, red-headed boy sat in front of you giggling with his siblings.

There was something extraordinarily special about your friendship with Fred Weasley. After ten plus years of him being the most important person in your life, ever since your first day at Hogwarts when he tripped over your robes as you and your fellow first years hurried into the Sorting Ceremony, you couldn’t imagine life without him.

You had been through so much together; every Hogwarts experience there was to be had, first kisses, first heartbreaks, the Second Great Wizarding War, he was by your side through everything.

“What’s on your mind, Y/N? You look to be thinking entirely too hard for my liking,” Fred sassed, breaking you out of your trance.

“Too hard for your liking?” you retaliated. “What do you care what I’m thinking about?”

“It’s supposed to be a relaxing weekend! You’re much too deep in thought to be relaxing, so of course I care.”

“Well, if you must know, I was thinking about you, Freddie.”

“Carry on then, love. I’ve always wished for your thoughts to be consumed by me.”

With a cheeky wink, Fred went back to a game of exploding snap and you didn’t need to watch to know that Ginny was absolutely kicking his arse. However, you didn’t miss the sly smile that George gave you when Fred’s attention was diverted from you.

It wasn’t uncommon for the two of you to flirt with one another. In fact, you would dare to say it was the most predominant form of communication between the two of you. There was the occasional time or two where you thought that maybe, just maybe, he felt the same, but he’d always look away quickly or press a kiss to your cheeks instead of your lips, laughing it off as the two of you caught up in a moment that would cross a line that could never be crossed, though you so desperately wanted to.

After another round of exploding snap, Ginny said her goodbyes and apparated back to her flat, but not before promising that she wouldn’t miss anymore family dinners for quidditch practice, which you knew would happen inevitably but smiled nonetheless at her enthusiasm. You’d been a regular appearance at the weekly get-together for as long as you could remember, you were practically part of the family so you could say with appropriate accuracy that Ginny definitely missed dinner more than all of her siblings combined due to her busy schedule.

“Well, I suppose it’s time for us to head back as well,” George mused, eyeing the leftover pies in the kitchen. “Are you staying at ours tonight, Y/N?”

“I’d love nothing more. Besides, I didn’t get to play Fred in exploding snap and I want to knock his ego down just a little bit more.”

George linked arms with you and Fred, laughing about his brother’s awful skills as you apparated to their flat above the shop.

You’d spent many a nights at the twins’ flat over the past couple of years. After the war, you had moved in for a while until you found a job and managed to rent your own place. But, they never got rid of your bed that took up a large corner of their living room, which came in handy after weekly Weasley dinners when you just wanted to spend a bit more time with your favorite boys.

“I’m absolutely knackered,” George said once the three of you had settled on the couch. “I think I might go to bed now, if I’m honest. Besides, I want to be up early to work on those new design sketches for the storefront.”

“George Weasley, you have never gotten up before 10 o’clock on a Sunday in your entire life,” you scoffed.

“There’s a first for everything, Y/N. Goodnight to you and Freddie!”

As George turned away from you both, he faked a yawn and when he was sure Fred wasn’t looking, winked back at you to further confirm your suspicion that he wanted you to be alone with Fred.

He had just about had enough of the tension between you both and took every chance he got to get the two of you alone, by any means necessary.

When you heard George’s bedroom door close, you noticed Fred scoot closer to you on the couch until your legs were touching. He slung his arm over your shoulders and you swung your legs up to lay across his lap.

“What were you thinking about earlier? While Gin and I were playing by the fireplace?” Fred wondered aloud.

“Oh, I was looking at all the pictures on the walls at your Mum and Dad’s. I saw one from you and George’s first day at Hogwarts and I was thinking about how we first met.”

“Hmm, so you were thinking about one of the most embarrassing moments in my life?”

“Please, you’ve done much, much worse. Remember that time in our sixth year when you tried to outdrink George after we won the Slytherin match and you – ”

“Ah, ah, ah, I thought we agreed to never speak of that incident again,” Fred said as he visibly shuddered.

“I was just pointing out that I can think of quite a few moments that were far more embarrassing than tripping on my robes.”

“You’re one to talk! Don’t you remember our fifth year when you and George were running from Filch and you knocked Wood to the ground? Bloody broke his arm, you were so lucky Madame Pomfrey had him fixed up before our next match or he would’ve had a heart attack.”

A loud laugh escaped your lips as you covered your face in embarrassment; that was the year you had followed Oliver around like a lost puppy, although your schoolgirl crush paled in comparison to how you’d felt for Fred back then and now as well but neither twin would ever let you live it down.

“Do you remember the Yule Ball? When Flitwick caught you trying to spike the punch and you slipped and fell in the middle of the dance floor?” You chuckled at the memory, even if the Yule Ball was an event you had tried to forget.

“You were so mad at me that night and the whole week before, I was terribly distracted. If we had been on good terms I would’ve gotten away with it and the slipping never would have happened.”

“Well, it’s your own fault we were fighting! I still can’t believe you didn’t ask me to go with you.”

“Oi, it’s not my fault when you never said you wanted me to ask you.”

“I thought I had made it painfully obvious when I asked you every morning at breakfast if you’d found a date yet and told you that I didn’t have one either.”

Fred threw his head back and laughed, the thought of your shocked face when he had asked Angelina was too priceless a memory to ever forget.

“You were so jealous,” Fred mumbled.

“Jealous?!” you screeched. “I wasn’t jealous, I was annoyed that I had to spend all night with some Durmstrang tosser stepping on my toes. We’ve had this argument literally a million times.”

“No, you were definitely jealous. You shot poor Angie daggers the whole night and she’s such a lovely girl.”

“I shot her daggers because she hogged you and I didn’t get to dance with my best friend a single time at the only Ball we ever had at school.”

“I would’ve asked you to dance if you weren’t mad at me, and you know she was only dancing with me to make George jealous, even if he was oblivious.”

You smiled at that; you knew Angelina only had eyes for George and that going with Fred was some elaborate ruse. Shockingly, it ended up working, and he and Angelina have been together ever since.

“Still think you were jealous,” Fred challenged, poking you in the exact spot on your abdomen that he knew you were ticklish.

“Fred Weasley, for the last time, I was not jealous,” you emphasized as you poked him back.

“Don’t start something you can’t finish, love,” he said lowly, a daring glint in his eye.

Never one to heed warnings or follow directions, you poked him again and within seconds he had you pinned underneath him on the couch, his fingers trailing up and down your sides as you couldn’t help but laugh boisterously beneath him.

“Fred – ” you gasped. “Freddie, please, I actually think I might pee on your couch.”

“Not until you admit you were jealous that I asked Angelina!”

You shook your head, the combination of laughter and trying to catch your breath kept you from firing back a witty remark.

After a few moments, you simply couldn’t take anymore and shouted out, “FINE. Fine, you win.”

“What was that, lovey? I couldn’t quite hear you.”

“I said, fine, I admit it. I was jealous that you asked Angelina when I wanted you to ask me,” you grumbled, struggling to catch your breath in between words.

“See, now that wasn’t so hard, was it?”

You glared up at him and moved to push him off of you when you realized just how close his face was to yours. If you concentrated hard enough, you could count each individual freckle splattered across his nose and cheeks. Almost instinctually, your eyes flickered down to his lips, but you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of staring, so you quickly looked away.

Fred noticed that you couldn’t take your eyes off of him and, in true Fred Weasley fashion, couldn’t resist a flirty joke.

“You really want to kiss me right now, don’t you?” Fred chuckled.

“Yeah,” you sighed, “yeah, I do.”

Surging forward, you pressed your lips to his and immediately wove your fingers through the hair at the base of his neck. You were so tired; tired of the constant flirting and feeling as if you would forever have to love him from afar while he lived his life blissfully unaware of how much it hurt you to hide how you felt.

His arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you closer to him; the raw emotion in the way he desperately kissed you left little doubt in your mind that he had wanted this for as long as you had. His hands slipped under your shirt and his fingers blazed a trail of fire up your spine; a breathy moan escaped your lips but Fred swallowed the sound with his mouth, deepening the kiss and pulling you even closer.

A scream from behind the couch caused you to jump apart, chests heaving and hair sticking up every possible way. You sat up to look over the back of the couch to see George Weasley, looking visibly shaken and guilty, with his hands covering his eyes.

“Oh my god, I leave you alone for thirty minutes and you’re about to shag on my bloody couch. Jesus, ok, let me just, uh, well, I’ve probably ruined the mood, haven’t I?”

“George,” you hissed. “What are you doing sneaking around, I thought you were going to bed?!”

“Yeah, I said I was,” he said sheepishly as he uncovered his eyes, “but I might have been eavesdropping on your conversation. When I heard it go all quiet, I thought I’d come out and see if you two fools had fallen asleep, but clearly, that was not the case.”

“Eavesdropping? I swear to Merlin, George, you’re a ten year old boy. I can’t believe you! Of all the immature and invasive things to do, my God.”

“Well, pardon me, I just wanted to see if my idiot brother would finally grow some balls and tell you he’s in love with you!”

“I’m not sure what you’re on about but that doesn’t mean you can just sneak up on people,” you chided.  “Fred, would you please back me up here, what is wrong with you – ”

You turned around to pull Fred into the argument only to find him sitting on top of the coffee table with a dazed look in his eyes and flushed cheeks.

“Fred, are you alright?” you asked worriedly.

He slowly lifted his head and looked into your eyes; you could see just how flushed his face was now that he wasn’t staring at the floor and good Godric, he was as red as the hair on his head.

“I…I…You,” he stammered. “You kissed me?”

“Yes, I suppose that is what happened,” you muttered sheepishly.

“Y/N Y/L/N…you…you kissed me?”

“Freddie, what the hell is the matter with you?”

George burst into laughter and you whirled back around to glare at him, however, this time, he didn’t hush up like he usually did.

“Like I said before, he’s in love with you, and now he can’t even form a coherent sentence because you kissed him, this is golden. Ol’ cock sure Freddie, a pile of mush because of a little makeout sesh, I’ve got to send an owl to Lee…” George trailed off as he turned and rushed back towards his bedroom.

You took another look at Freddie and smiled at the lovestruck look on his face. He was shaking his head in his hands and you saw the redness on his neck as well, which only happened when he was well and truly flustered.

“This is so humiliating,” he groaned as you sat down next to him.

“I think it’s rather cute, if that makes you feel any better,” you said as you chuckled and placed a hand on his thigh.

He removed his head from his hands and looked at you adoringly, the giddy smile on his face ignited butterflies in your stomach and your heart beat wildly in your chest.  

“All the times I imagined how this would pan out…it definitely wasn’t supposed to happen this way. I mean, not that I’m mad about it, it was incredibly sexy how you just grabbed me and kissed me, but I wasn’t supposed to be a bumbling fool afterwards.”

A moment of silence washed over the both of you as Fred intertwined your hands and steadily held your gaze.

“George was right, you know. I am in love with you. Have been for quite a long time, if I’m being honest.”

“Well, in the spirit of honesty, I guess I should say that I’m in love with you too.”

“Bloody brilliant,” he sighed as he leaned in to kiss you again, but you stopped him just before your lips touched.

“You’re not going to pass out or anything if we kiss again, are you?”

“No promises, love, but I’ll try my best.”

taglist: @theweasleysredhair @hufflepuffbaby9 @theboywhocriedlupin @swellwriting @fortisfiliae @thoseofgreatambition @wildfire-whizbangs @woakiees 

[darthwheezely]

okay im backkkkk 💌 anything kinda angsty for fred pls (like a break up but theres a bit of making up at the end pls

resentment and reconciliation- f.w. hcs

Warnings: this one kinda hurt to write I’m ngl, I love you Jess but DAMN - cussing probably, mentions of slut shaming, actual smut, a lOT OF ANGST, hateful!fred

THIS WILL BE SO UNGODLY LONG THIS IS BASICALLY A PSUEDO ONE SHOT

people that might like this(?): @whiz-bangs78 @vogueweasley @theweasleyslut @loony-loopy-lupinn @lupinsclassroom @vivianweasley @oh-for-merlins-sake @kitwalker02 @tatesimper @gcdric @slytherinsunrise @lumosandnoxwriting

you and Fred were friends...

...simply friends

yep

mhm

only friends

friends that liked to casually dominate each other multiple times a week

sometimes multiple times a day

but regardless of your entirely messy relationship, you were best friends

...weren’t you?

“Fuck, Y/N, you’re so goddamn tight me,” Fred hissed as he was pounding inside of you, determined to release some kind of frustration from seeing you with George for the whole day when you both knew you had really just wanted to spend the day with Fred. Right?

“Freddie, you feel so good” you said airily as he hiked up one of your legs onto one of his shoulders.

“Yeah, princess? You like the way I fill you up so good, make you fucking mine?” When you moaned in response he threw your other leg onto the opposite shoulder, determined to show you just how much you were his, and what that meant for him. He had been watching you for months pretend nothing was happening outside this room, and regardless if you knew it or not, it had been killing him the day he agreed to your rendezvous the first time.

“Yes, Freddie, fuck, yes”

“Gonna come for me, sweet girl?”

“God, yes, Fred-“ and with a harsh thrust to your g-spot you clenched around him tightly, your body releasing onto him in a massive wave. He put his free hand that didn’t have your arms pinned above you to your clit, determined to have you as overstimulated as possible.

“Fred, please-“ you whined vehemently at his rough touch.

“I’m coming baby, I’m right here” and with a final pound he had smoothed your walls with him, the throbbing finally subsiding. He rolled his hips slowly to ride out his high, and he then pulled out, falling to your side and pulling you into his arms. He could feel your heart pounding as your breasts heaved against him, desperate for air flow where he had rid you of it all.

“We haven’t held each other like this in a while, Freddie...it’s...it’s really nice.” You whispered against his bare chest, pressing a kiss or two there. He nodded and buried his mouth in your hair, fluttering his eyes.

“I promise I’ll take every opportunity to hold you, okay?”

that was tuesday

let’s skip to Thursday morning

you had only told one other person about your complicated relationship with Fred, and that was Hannah Abbot

you trusted her, you saw her as your BEST friend

but unfortunately, good ol’ hannah didn’t really feel the same

she had it out for you when Roger Davies had confessed he had a crush on you at the Yule Ball, kissed you even, against your consent

see, he was Hannah’s date

and she didn’t like that very much

to top it allllll off?

she had been casually crushing on Fred ever since she had her heart broken by Roger

so now here you all were, seventh year and you assumed as per usual that everything was fine

when clearly, unbeknownst to you

this bitch saw you six feet under

so Hannah did what she knew would hurt you the most

she told Roger :)

“Please he’s absolutely balls deep in love with her, but poor thing doesn’t know she’s using him for a roll in the sack.” Said Hannah, filing her nails in the courtyard. Roger looked at her absolutely dumbfounded.

“No, Y/N, isnt like that. And besides, Fred’s a good mate of mine and...She just wouldn’t do that to him. Feelings or not, she’s not one to use people.” He shook his head starting to get up from the tree he’d been leaning on.

“Well, she used you, didn’t she?” She purred demurely. He turned to look at her, jaw clenched.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He gritted out.

“She’s making him her personal whore, exactly like she did when she rejected you at the Ball...I mean...cmon, Rog. Don’t people deserve to know who she really is?”

everyone had heard the next day how Y/N was fucking Fred Weasley like an Olympic sport

and how he wasn’t the one coming out on top for the first time

at first he didn’t know what he did when he walked into the Great Hall to stares and whispers

George had tried to get him to go back to bed so he could bring him food

but fred demanded answers

and when he found out what it was

...he was crushed

You walked into the cascading staircase, bounding up the stairs. It was Thursday night, you and Fred’s night to be alone while George and Lee would be hanging out. You walked into the room to see Fred, throwing things onto his bed and looking angry and...hurt?

“Fred, what-what is all this?” He didn’t look at you, just continued to pick stuff up off the floor, and got one of your bras. He threw it at you.

“It’s all your shit, Y/N. Might as well help since this is the last time you’ll ever be in my room. Or around me again quite frankly.” He started to look down again and keep working but he heard you whimper and his eyes flashed up to yours. He started to laugh harshly. “Oh my god, stop.” He rolled his eyes and threw his arms out. “You got what you wanted from me didn’t you, Y/N? Quick shag and no feelings and knowing you had an entire fucking human being completely and utterly devoted to you with, what did Ron say? ‘Half the commitment’?” He smiled at you but it was one with rage, with tears pooling at his eyes, pain emitting off his body in hot waves. He didn’t even know he was shouting.

“I mean, Jesus, I’m in love with you and you got to go on and-and fuck whoever you want because guess what at the end of the day you get to tell everyone that Fred fucking Weasley is your own personal whore and would do anything for you and that just got you where you wanted it didn’t it? Didn’t it?” He had stopped yelling, his heart pounding as he took in the sight of you fully in tears now, flinching at him quietly. He felt immediately then like he was going to throw up, something wasn’t right, you usually were so fiery and assertive and here you were looking like a dog that got kicked repeatedly. He swallowed thickly. “Get your stuff and get the fuck out I can’t stand the sight of you.”

Without looking at him you reached onto his bed and grabbed everything you could carry, and swiftly left the room. Everyone in the Gryffindor common room, except George, looking at you with pure unbridled disdain.

George was the only it seemed, that cared about you at this time for the next couple weeks

He didn’t tell Fred, but it had been George that had been sneaking up food to you in your dorm room

It had been George that had sent you little notes in class that said things like

I love you, Y/N. I believe in you, okay?

He even visited your dorm one day when you couldn’t move so much as one leg off your bed, and he caught you then, while you were sobbing about the loss of Fred and yourself and he held you and put you back in bed

and waited until you fell back asleep and moved the hair out of your face

he needed to tell Fred the truth

meanwhile, Fred was floundering

he had fallen back into his coping mechanism of sex and violence, mostly the first one

he had started hooking up with virtually everyone in his year that he’d ever rejected

after all - fred was labeled as a slut so why not act like one

if there was anything Fred was good at, it was being loud

in bed it had never been an issue - in fact, it was a talent now, yeah?

he’d been hearing it around school for weeks now

how easy he was

how much he would do to get in a girl’s pants

how he dipped his wick in anything that moved

anything and everything

he got it from girls

“c’mon freddie can i take a ride just once”

to the guys

“Oi freddie, you let your mates hit it for free too?”

if it were from a guy he’d usually swing a punch

or 12

he’d gotten in his most fights that he ever had in any of his years at hogwarts

but then Georgie came along:

George had waited on Fred’s bed, as his twin was in the shower. Lucky for Fred, George had been able to trace Roger’s little dip in the gossip system all the way back to Hannah Abbott, who everyone knew was bullshit, and had decided to let his brother know exactly what kind of a supreme asshat he was being to their best friend (and the love of Fred’s life, let’s be super honest.)

“Georgie, what the hell are you doing-”

“About to give you the whip cracking of your life, dear brother.” George swung his legs off the bed as Fred continued to dry his hair in the mirror, rolling his eyes.

“Is this about the last girl I had by? We didn’t fuck on your bed if that’s what you’re so worried about.” Fred quipped and George took everything in his power to not bitch slap the hell out of his older twin. George clenched his jaw and rolled it.

“You fucked up, Freddie.” He said quietly. Fred turned slowly to look at him. “Excuse me?”. “You. Fucked. Up.” George said a bit louder. “Y/N got played. By Hannah Abbott and Roger Davies. She’s had a crush on you this whole time, you absolute dumb piece of shit.” And then George did push Fred then backwards onto the bathroom wall, but he was too dumbfounded by the usually sensible twin’s behavior to do anything back.

“That’s-I don’t understand-“

“Oh my god, Fred. Hannah’s been in love with for ages, she lied. To everyone. Roger did too, he’s wanted to get with Y/N since day 1 you know that just as well as I do.” Fred tightened his arm, thinking about Roger with his lips and arms on you that night last year-

“Your point? She still said that shit about me” he said gruffly, but a pool of anxiety swirled in his stomach all the same

“Don’t you get it? Y/N is in love with you. She didn’t say or do anything to hurt you. At all. She hasn’t been eating, she hasn’t been doing homework, she throws up constantly, she’s barely left bed but to go to the library and usually all she does there is sleep anyway, she cries all the time and it’s been me making sure she still is present if not to just see people every damn day! So quit youre moping and fix this shit or I swear to God, Freddie, I’ll knock your block off.” George was heaving, pools of water in his eyes as he swallowed. “She’s my best friend too, you know.”

Fred looked up at George then and had started to cry. All of those things he said, all of the words he spat at her like they could burn her skin and cause some of the pain he believed she had caused him, when in reality you had-you had done nothing wrong.

“Georgie, I’m sorry” he choked.

“I know you are. But I’m not the one to say it to right now...you’ve gotta find her, Freddie. Please.”

you had been in the corner of the quidditch stands

the wind was blowing against your hair

you couldn’t be in your room anymore, it started to smell like you

and you, prior to an hour ago, didn’t smell too appetizing

you reeked of sweat and tears and your own sick

you took a shower so hot you wanted it to burn you alive

maybe sanitize the last of your fear and your hurt away

you had lost weight, you had lost feeling

you all in all had just lost

and you had never wanted to go home so badly, already considering writing home

you hated being reminded that your best friend and crush hated you

wanted you to be hated by everyone else too

but then, you heard footsteps

“Y/N?” Fred whispered to himself as he saw you in the stands. You looked so worn, so lifeless sitting there - he almost didn’t recognize you from the way your hair, usually scrunched up and bouncy had fallen flatly against your face, further slapped around by the wind outside. You had been wearing an oversized sweater and your sweatpants had pooled around your ankles. Simply put, you were miserable. 

“Y/N?” He called again once he was standing in front of you. You turned to look at him in what felt like slow motion, but when you locked eyes with him, you immediately felt fearful. 

“I-I’m sorry, I’ll leave now” you sputtered

“No, hey, wait, please” he reached out to grab your arm and you froze, letting him take it. He looked at you, with a flash of fear and worry on your face and he wanted to throw up knowing he was the one that made you feel like that.

“Fred, please let go” you hoarsely whispered.

“No, love, I’m not going to let go I have some things to apologize for.”

You started to cry, eyes dropping again to his hand on your arm and breathing feeling suddenly like a very hard task. “You hate me now: you sobbed and you pulled yourself from his grip, turning away from him and gathering your bag. He started to scramble for your hold again tears starting to stream down his face

“No, angel, please, I could never hate you”

“Oh? What about those things you said to me in your room-” you were walking faster over the benched seats, making your way to the other side.

“I know I know I said those things in my room but I can’t believe them because you have to believe me when I tell you I’m in love with you” and he was sobbing at your body turned away from him. You turned to look at him with a skeptical quirk of your face.

“No, no you don’t.” You spat.

“Yes, Y/N, I do please let me explain” he said earnestly taking in your bright eyes and the furrow of your brow.

“People who love each other don’t scream at them and throw things.” You said flatly. You wanted him to be true but you couldn’t make yourself believe him.

“Just give me five minutes of your time and-and if you hate me you never have to see me again. Please.” He closed the gap between you two and motioned for you to sit down. You licked a tear from your lip and nodded siting on a bench besides him.

“Hannah and Roger told everyone-”

“I know what happened. What they did. I want to hear about you. And what you said. And are saying” you looked at him in the eyes with steel burning behind your irises.

He sighed and rubbed his jaw. “I thought that what we had was purely sex in your eyes. And I was too much of a coward to ever ask you, so when I heard someone tell me that my own insecurities could possibly be true,” he inhaled a harsh breath as tears started to fall “I-I was crushed. By the idea that you saw me as what other people saw me as...as a toy? I guess? Or a sexual prop? To use when you wanted. But I hide my feelings a lot as you know, so even if you did feel that way, it would’ve looked like I agreed because I hate you knowing how sad I am,” he started to choke on his tears, the anguish of knowing he hurt you this much was too much for him to ever be able to handle. “I just wanted to hold you and whisper in your ear and tell you how much I love you and the thought of my own fears being true pushed you away. And you never have to forgive me. I-when I yelled at you like that I wanted to see you hurt, I think. I wanted you to see how sad it made me to think about you with other people like you had been with me and” he took a final breath and you pulled his body into you. “Y/N, my love I’m so sorry.” His sobs shook your body, the feeling and angle of the destroyed boy you love shaking you everywhere. You pressed kisses to his head. “Freddie, I love you” you repeated “I love you here and here and here and here and here” and with every kiss you gave him, you were determined to soothe him. “I-I’ sorry too, for not being as forthright with you about how i felt too. It’s always been you, Freddie.” He choked out a watery smile and he leaned in to kiss your face everywhere he could, his tears stinging against the wind and your cheeks. 

“If-If you could ever be with me I will always be open to it at any time, you know that don’t you? I-I understand if you can’t.” He held his forehead to yours, his nose brushing yours ever so slightly. 

“Freddie, I love you. You were who I missed when I couldn’t get out of bed for fuck’s sake you’re all I want,” and he leaned into you then fully, capturing your wet and chapped lips against his. Your arms wrapped around his neck and he melted into you like this

this

this was fred weasley

[chickenmcstucky]

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Next Friday,” you returned, your heart swelling

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

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

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

[illfoandillfie]

Out of Context

Request: First of all, congratulations on 1,000!!!! Could you do a a sequel to Interloper where maybe an interviewer is giving her shit for having once been a groupie and Bri Rog and Deaky defend her and have amazing sex after at like their hotel 😂-foursome anon (I’m back)

Interloper / Snapshots From Before (Prequel)

Pairing: Roger Taylor x Brian May x John Deacon x Fem!Reader

Warnings: SMUT (18+), gangbang/foursome, oral sex (m and f receiving), anal sex, tit fucking, light choking, slightly dom reader, cheer up sex, some spanking, double and triple penetration

Words: 6,145

A/N: This was another request from back at my 1000 follower celebration last year. It’s been sitting half written in my drafts since then and I finally felt inspired to finish it lmao. Foursome anon I hope you’re still around and you see this!!

Blurb Advent: Day 10

Taglist:  @vee-ndetta​ @atomic-watermelon @kellypenac @labessieisallama​​​ @deakyclicks​​​ @jennyggggrrr​​​ @drowseoftaylor​​​ @hannafuckingsucks​​​ @i-cant-hangout-im-drumming​​​ @queenmylovely​​​ @ilovequeenmorethanyou​ @johndeaconshands​​​ @borhapbois​​​ @stardust-galaxies​

Doing press wasn’t easy, especially when interviewers insisted on questioning you all separately. You preferred having at least one of the boys to back you up. They’d been dealing with the whole interview process for so long now they knew how to avoid answering things they didn’t want to, knew how to deal with rude reporters. But it was all new to you. Perhaps that was why this particular interview had gone so badly. There was no Freddie to make the right snide comment, no Roger to get pissed off on your behalf, no Brian or John to squeeze your knee comfortingly or take over when you go tongue tied.

Things between you and the rest of the band had been going much better since Freddie had locked you in that room together. It didn’t happen overnight, there were still lingering tensions. But any badmouthing they did of you was out of your hearing which you much preferred. Gradually, as the tour wore on, there were less tensions. They got used to having you around, began including you in their games of scrabble and their not-quite-awake conversations over hotel breakfasts. Until one day, in the final leg of the tour, when Freddie admitted to you quietly that he hadn’t overheard any whispered comments for nearly a week. “And here I was thinking we’d never get there.” “Oh hush, darling, I told you from the beginning they wouldn’t hate you forever. Sure they took a little longer to come around than I had anticipated but it all worked out in the end. And now when you tell them the execs have asked for another full album featuring you, they probably won’t kill you.” They hadn’t, of course, though you’d worried for the safety of everyone involved in making the decision. Roger looked as if he were a second away from punching the first person to talk to him.

They took less time to calm down though, especially after they saw how nervous you got before the first interview. Your agent had decided some preliminary press would help build excitement for the album before the songs were even written. Calls were made, journalists were found, and before you knew it you were facing a crowd of people vying to ask you their questions, cameras flashing the whole time. It was a lot. More than pushing you into the deep end, you’d be thrown to the bloody sharks. Any lingering ill will the boys had for you vanished after that. They’d all thankfully been there too, had drawn the attention to themselves rather than let you struggle to answer everything on your own. After that they’d kept an eye on you during the smaller interviews. Mostly the reporters were happy to talk to you all together and, as long as you said one or two things about how excited you were to be working with Queen again, and how much fun touring with them was, you could get away with letting them take lead. But every now and then you got stuck with some jackass who wanted to quiz you solo. And this interview, this horrid interview, had been one of them.

Roger pushed the magazine away from himself, letting it slide as far down your kitchen table as it would go. “She’s a fucking bitch that reporter.” You looked down at the magazine, still open to your interview, the headline alone making your stomach turn. “No, sorry, that’s an insult to dogs. She’s a fucking cunt.” “Rog,” “No, that’s an insult to vaginas. There is no word strong enough for that poor excuse for a journalist.” “Roger, sit down.” Roger shot Freddie a dirty look but sat down anyway, his knee bouncing with restless energy, “Sorry. I’m just pissed off.” “Yes, we gathered that, thanks Rog,” “She took everything I said out of context, you have to believe me.” “We do, Y/N, we do,” John said softly from beside you, rubbing circles on your back. “It started well, I swear. Just the usual questions y’know, what’s it like working with Queen? How does it feel to be singing next to Freddie Mercury? Were you nervous about touring with them? Can you give us any hints about the new album? All the things that usually come up that Freddie coached me on how to answer, and I was doing fine. I had my prepared answers and there was no stumbling over words or anything like that. I thought I’d finally got the hang of it all and then she asked me to elaborate on what it was like working with you. I’d already told her the usual thing – it was fun and y’know blew my mind and all that. But then she asked how it compare to being your groupie.” “You didn’t answer her did you?” “Christ no, Brian! Jesus what do you take me for?” Brian held his hands up in apology. “I told her that it wasn’t relevant, but she kept asking, one question after another thrown at me and no matter what I said she didn’t stop. All sorts of stuff, like which of you was the best shag, and if I’d only wanted to be your groupie because I hoped it would lead to my own album, and if I was still offering my services,” you made air quotes around the words, “accused me of using you for my own gain and asked if you were the first band I’d tried it with or if you were just the only ones gullible enough to let me. I tried to tell her no and that I wasn’t going to answer those questions but she just kept going and then she told me to get used to the attention and left. I guess she didn’t need my answers to write a whole article about it.” “Which of us is the best shag?” Brian repeated the question though you suspected he wasn’t just checking he’d heard you correctly. The others all fell quiet, waiting to see if you’d answer. “Really Bri? That’s what you got from that?” “Right, right, sorry, not the important part. Look, it’s not as bad as you think it is.” “Bri’s right, love,” Roger said, much calmer than he had been before, “there’s nothing of substance in here. Like this quote, as for the fun Ms Y/L/N mentioned was had on tour, one can’t help but wonder just what she meant. Could the stories about nights spent playing boardgames be covers for debauched, drug-fuelled, orgies the likes of which would make a pornstar blush, I mean, there’s nothing there. It’s all conjecture and anyone worth a damn will see right through it.” “But some people will believe it,” “Maybe, yes,” Freddie said, “but it’ll blow over. We’ve all been in the same place you are at one time or another. If anything this officially makes you one of the band.” “Yeah, Y/N, it’s all just spiteful rubbish.” “Thanks guys, but I think I might just call it a day, go back to bed. Stay if you want, I don’t mind. But if you leave lock the door behind you.” You stood and headed to your bedroom.

The four boys stayed quiet until you were out of your room but you heard their hushed voices and hissed comments through your bedroom door as you pulled off your jeans and unclasped your bra from under the baggy jumper you wore. It took about five minutes before there was a soft knock on your bedroom door. “Y/N, can I come in?” You contemplated feigning sleep. “I know you’re not asleep.” You sighed and sat up, hugging your knees to your chest, “Fine, Roger, come in.” “Freddie’s gone to make some calls,” he said, standing just inside your doorway, hands in his pockets. “Calls about what? It’s out there now, there’s no getting it back.” “No but we need to make it clear to other journalists that those kinds of questions won’t be answered in any future interviews, and hopefully we can make sure that parasite never gets to come anywhere near us again.” “Isn’t that mean to parasites?” Roger chuckled, “getting over it already, see,” he sat on the edge of the bed and placed his hand on your covered knee, “I know this sucks, and I get that you’re ashamed, but I promise it’s not as bad as it feels right now.” “I’m not ashamed.” “What?” “You said I’m ashamed of it but I’m not.” “Oh. I thought-” “I’m a bit embarrassed because obviously I’ve never told my family what it is I got up to when I went to all those concerts and now they’re all going to know, lord knows some of them will believe the worst of it. And I’m pissed off that I didn’t stand up for myself more. I just let her keep cutting me off and talking over me when I should have told her to fuck off or at least called her out for being a prudish arsehole who probably only attacked me because she’s jealous I’ve fucked three quarters of Queen. And I’m annoyed that you’ve all been brought up in the article, and she’s questioning whether your good people just because you sept with me. I mean does she expect you all to be virginal saints or something? It’s just frustrating and yes, upsetting. But I’m definitely not ashamed.” “Huh, okay then.” “What?” “Nothing, just, we assumed you regretted sleeping with us.” “Lord no. It wasn’t planned, like she was insinuating, but seeping with you definitely helped me get my foot in the door with this whole music thing. And even if it hadn’t done that, it was still fun as hell and made me feel good. If I wasn’t fucking you I would have been out having mediocre sex with guys I met in pubs and I don’t care how much of a slut it makes me seem, but I’d rather fuck a whole band every single night and actually get off than have a disappointing drunk lay with a guy who’s never heard of the clitoris. Fuck, I’d still be doing the whole groupie thing now, and be perfectly happy with it, if Freddie hadn’t heard me singing that day. That night at the after party, that was heaps of fun.” “Give me a second would you,” Roger stood and walked to the door, giving you another glance before he turned the corner. You watched the doorway, not quite sure what to make of his behaviour but your questions were answered soon enough when he reappeared with Brian and John following. “So apparently we misread the situation,” Brian said, taking the seat Roger had just vacated. John sat cross legged at the end of your bed while Roger flopped onto the mattress beside you. “I can’t believe you’d think I regretted being your groupie. Have you met me?” “In our defence you seemed very upset, what were we meant to think?” “I had a shitty interview and got called a whore in a very public way, of course I’m upset. Doesn’t mean I regret anything.” “Yeah, that makes sense. Sorry, we should have realised. But we have a proposition for you. We actually thought of a way to cheer you up when we first saw the magazine this morning but then when we got here you seemed so sad and we didn’t want to make you more upset or uncomfortable,” “What Brian is trying to say is that we have an idea we think you might like.” “Jesus will you two stop beating around the bush?” “Shut up Rog, I’m getting there.” “Y/N,” Roger said cutting off the others before they could waffle any longer, “Would you like to fuck us again?” You almost choked. “Zero tact. What he means is, we thought we could cheer you up. All three of us, entirely focused on making you forget that magazine.” “Wait, I’m confused,” you massaged the bridge of your nose as you tried to catch up to them, “you saw an article that called me a whore and thought it would cheer me up to, what, be your shared fucktoy again? Yeah it was fun but-” “No, no, no, that’s not what we mean,” John said, “you’d be in control of how it all happens. It wouldn’t be like last time.” “So, you’d be my whores?” “I guess?” “The point is,” Roger chimed in, “we want to make you feel better. If that means making you cups of tea and buying you a box of chocolates that’s fine. But it could also mean you having three cocks and all the orgasms you can handle.” You looked from Roger to John to Brian and then back again, trying to work out if they were joking or not. But they all seemed sincere enough for you to actually think about their proposition. It wasn’t what you were expecting to hear from them, and it hadn’t crossed your mind until they mentioned it. But now that they had, you had to admit it sounded fun. Last time had been fun and that was when you’d been passed around and used mercilessly, so having them all again, but with a bit more say in how it happened, could only be better. Plus, part of you wanted to prove how unashamed of your groupie history you were and what better way than this? “Okay, I’m in.”

“Do we need to set any ground rules?” Brian asked. “You all know my safeword,” “Saxophone,” You laughed at the chorus of eager voices, “Yes, exactly. Other than that I don’t think there’s anything to worry about. Not like this is new exactly, is it?” “Well, no, I s’pose not.” “Exactly. And if there’s anything I don’t want I’ll tell you. So you’re,” you pointed at Roger, “going to kiss me now, while you two undress,” “Getting right to it, excellent,” Roger laughed, as he pushed himself closer to you. He didn’t waste any time, leaning in to kiss you right away. It started off a little too soft for your liking but as soon as soon as you made it clear how into it you were, kissing him back harder and pressing yourself closer, Roger reciprocated. His hands wandered down to your chest as you felt Brian and John get up, following your orders, their clothes left where they landed on the floor. Roger’s hands were soon replaced by Brian’s as he knelt behind you, and you found your head being pulled around so he could kiss you too. Roger took the opportunity to undress as Brian and John caught you between them. You couldn’t tell who was removing your clothes, only that once your jumper had been pulled over your head John was kissing you. He leaned back, tugging you along so Brian could pull your underwear off, his hands caressing your bare bum. “How do you want us?” John asked, brushing your hair back behind your ear. “Um,” you looked around at the three very naked bandmates waiting for your word, “One of you is going to eat me out. Don’t care who but I am going to cum.” “Yes Ma’am,” John laughed, lazily saluting you before rolling you onto your back and shuffling down between your thighs. You were taken by surprise when you felt his tongue run between your lips, expecting nips on your thighs and the teasing puff of his breath as he hovered just out of your reach. But he was clearly taking the job of cheering you up seriously. Brian and Roger weren’t any different, settling into the spaces on either side of you, their light touches only enhancing the feeling John had set off. You felt their fingertips on your breasts and in the ends of your hair, tugging just enough to send a shiver down your spine but not enough to make you gasp in pain. “So what would you like from us, love? What dirty little fantasies are going through your head right now?” Roger tapped his finger on the middle of your forehead. You opened your mouth but a small oh as John latched onto your clit replaced the words you’d been intending to say. “Think we’re going to need a little more than that, Y/N. C’mon, tell us what you want. Do you want us to just take turns fucking you, filling you up over and over and over.” “Or are you thinking more along the lines of last time? Taking two at a time because one cock isn’t quite enough for you now?” “Try three,” you managed to get out as you slid a hand into John’s hair to hold him in place, “want you all at once.” “Jesus,” Brian swore, dropping his lips to your neck. “I’ve been a piss-poor groupie considering the stories that reporter’s peddling. Everyone’s going to think I’ve been taking all three of you at once constantly, but we’ve never actually done that, have we? Might as well embrace my slut title and change that,” “Let us work up to it, Love” Roger said softly, recapturing your lips as he rolled your nipple between his fingers. You whined, partly from Roger and Brian’s attention and partly because John raised his head, your hips rising slightly at the loss. “Guess I should start stretching you out then,” he said offhandedly as he licked his fingers, the same way you’d seen him do a hundred times before while playing. You couldn’t stop the moan that rose up in your throat, the sound only making John chuckle against you as he lowered his head and resumed his focus on your clit.

It only took a few more minutes to have you swearing through your first orgasm. The two fingers John had inside you enough to send you over the edge as they brushed against every sensitive spot they could reach. Your neck tingled where Brian had marked it and your nipples were stiff peaks, extra sensitive to cool air after he and Roger had delighted in torturing them with teeth and tongue and fingertips. “How was that?” John asked, slowly withdrawing his fingers when he was satisfied you’d finished. “Fuck,” was all you could say, the three boys laughing, John dropping a kiss to the inside of your thigh. “Think you can handle more?” “Actually Bri I think I might be done,” “Oh. Really?” “I’m kidding.” “Thank Christ. I’m so fucking hard there’s no way I could get my pants back on anyway.” You laughed and pushed yourself to sit up, “Poor thing. I suppose you can use my cunt for a bit.” “Classic guitarists always getting first go,” “Shut it drum boy, I was about to offer to blow you but if you’re going to be like that,” “No, no, I didn’t say anything.” “He did Y/N, I heard him, blow me instead,” “Ignore Deaks, he doesn’t know what he’s talking about,” “Like a couple of – oh!” you were cut off as Brian grabbed you round the middle and wrenched you onto your hands and knees, “children. A little warning next time please,” “Sorry,” Brian leaned forward to kiss your back as his fingers trailed up the inside of your thigh, “but if I didn’t move this along we’d be stuck arguing about who gets to blow who forever.” “N-no we wouldn’t,” you stumbled over your words as Brian’s long, talented fingers pressed into you, “I made up my mind, Rog in my throat.” “What about me?” “Don’t worry Deaks, you’ll get your turn. If you want you can spank me though, or bite me or pull my hair or whatever else you can think of. You know my limits. Also we’ll need lube so if you want to go digging through my bathroom draws and find some you can. Might be a reward in it if you do.” “Spankher, please,” Brian nearly whined, “always makes her cunt so tight.” “Think I’d rather claim that reward thanks” “Alright then I’ll spank her,” “Guys! Can you stop arguing. I have holes enough for all of you, that’s kind of the point of this. And, Brian and Roger, if I don’t get both of your cocks deep, deep inside me within the next thirty seconds I will kick you both out and let John have his way with me on repeat.” A moment of silence accompanied your statement. You saw Roger, eyes wide, look over at John and then to Brian, and could only assume they were returning his dumbfounded look. “Twenty-nine, twenty-eight, twenty-seven,” Roger blinked as if waking from a daydream and hurried to kneel in front of you, one hand gliding over the length of his cock as the other reached for your hair. Your mouth fell open in a gasp as Brian suddenly filled you, holding your hips tight as he bottomed out, which gave Roger enough opportunity to push himself towards the back of your throat. There was a shift in the mattress as John got up but you were a little too preoccupied to hear the door open and shut or the sound of him rummaging through your bathroom. You only realised he’d returned when a sudden, loud spank hit you and you knew Brian’s hands were still occupied with your hips. For their parts, Roger and Brian were keeping you busy, skewered between them, not sure whether the noises coming from your own throat were moans or gags or wordless begging. Brian breathlessly laughed as John spanked you again, “So fucking tight. Bit harder?” “Y/N?” You made an assenting humming noise and nodded as much as Roger’s cock would allow which John rightly took as permission and so hit you again, harder than the last.

It was an intoxicating feeling, taking two cocks at once, all the while wanting more and knowing you’d have it before long. Brian fucked you hard and precise, as if his goal was to split you open from the inside out. Had it just been him and you alone you would have found yourself creeping further up the bed. It had happened a few times before, leaving you either hanging off the edge of the bed, or with your hands over your head and pressed against a wall in an effort to keep from banging your head. But all he managed to do was push you further onto Roger’s cock, making you gag and choke more often. Roger didn’t seem to mind that though, giving as good as Brian, firmly gripping your hair so that you couldn’t even attempt to move off him. The added impact from John’s hand just made you shiver and moan. He was the one who sensed you were getting close though, reaching under you to rub your clit and give you the extra push you needed to get over the edge. Brian wasn’t too far behind you, groaning as he tried to keep fucking you, his hips faltering as he twitched inside you and spilled his seed. You felt his hands on your backside as he spread your cheeks, leaning down to spit on your arsehole before he pulled out of you. Once Brian was finished with you, you tapped Roger’s thigh and he pulled back. “You okay?” he asked, stroking your cheek with a knuckle. “Brilliant, just thought that since I can move a bit easier, I’d take over. You look like you were close.” “Fucking yes I was close,” You giggled as you readjusted your position to be more comfortable, once again taking Roger’s cock between your lips. This time you pushed yourself lower, taking him deeper, making Roger swear above you. You pulled back again, hollowing your cheeks until you sank down once more. A strangled moan seemed to catch in Roger’s throat and it spurred you on. You reached out to cups his balls, massaging them in your hand as you took him as deep as you could and hummed. The hum turned into something akin to a squeal (though slightly muffled and choked off at the end) as the sticky cool of John’s lube covered finger teased your arsehole, tracing circles around it before slowly sinking into you. The sight seemed to be enough to finish Roger off, one hand on the back of your head to steady himself as he shot his load down your throat, pulling out towards the end so the last of it dribbled down your chin. “Now me?” John asked, pushing a second finger in with the first as Roger let you go. “Stretch me out a little more and then yes,” “Oh, no, I’m not ready for that yet. I want your tits.” “What?” “Your tits, Y/N. Turn around,” His fingers left you and you were free to move, shuffling on your knees to face him. John pressed down on your shoulder pushing you to sit back on your knees and adjusting your angle so he could slide his lubed up shaft between your breasts. He pushed them together with his palms and slid them up and down his dick as he rutted against you, spreading the sticky lube over your chest. With a slight smile at John, you  dipped your head a little and kissed the tip of his cock as it moved towards your lips. “Fuck, been waiting so long for this,” he groaned, “gon-na make a mmm-ess all over you.” He gave up on speech as he neared his released, communicating exclusively in grunts and increased speed until he finished, covering your chest and sternum in ropes of cum that dripped down your skin.

You laughed as John fell back. The hardest you could remember laughing in a while. “What’s so funny?” Brian asked, reaching out to rub your shoulder. “Just thought what that reporter would say if she could see me now, naked and dripping in spunk,” you managed to get out between giggles, “her face would be fucking priceless.” The boys laughed along with you, glad you could see the funny side of the situation with the article. “Does that mean you’re feeling better?” “Yes Rog, but I’m still not done with you.” “What did you have in mind?” “Well,” you crawled over to where Roger was sitting, leant back on his hands, and placed your hand on his throat, tilting his face away from you a little so you could lick a long stripe from his jaw to his temple, “I meant it when I said I wanted all of you.” “Never doubted it, love,” he sounded a little breathless. “Just let me know when you’re all ready to go again. Not you Rog, I can see you’re ready.” “I’m good too Y/N,” “Yeah, same,” “In that case,” you shifted your position, lining yourself up with Roger and sinking down on him, squeezing his throat a little harder as you adjusted. “John, you still got that lube?” “Yes, uh, yeah here,” there was the sound of a cap flipping open and you leaned forward encouraging Roger to lay back so you could give John better access. “Hey, Rog, can you spread your legs a little wider,” “S’pose so, just don’t kneel on my bollocks or anything,” “God give me a second, the thought of that just made mine try and jump up inside me,” You giggled as John shuffled closer, using his fingers to spread some more of the lube over you and to keep stretching you out. “What about me, Y/N?” “I haven’t forgotten you Bri. I want every inch of your cock shoved so far down my throat I can feel you for a week. Just let me get used to the others first, yeah? Still feels kinda odd having two of you at once since we’ve not done it much.” Brian nodded, contenting himself with running his fingers through your hair as he waited. John, having pulled his fingers from you and slicked up his dick with more lube, sank into you slowly, his hand on your back to keep you bent forward. It suddenly felt hard for you to pull in a new breath as you tried to adjust to the feeling of both of them, especially when John gave an experimental thrust, fucking you slowly to make sure it felt okay for everyone. Brian talked softly, reminding you to breathe and telling you how well you were doing, until you were better in control of your lungs and ready for more. “Are you sure you want me as well?” “Yes. Lets show that parasite just how far I’ll go, huh?” Roger laughed, “that’s the spirit.”

Brian didn’t need more convincing than that, though it did take a little trial and error to find the best way to accommodate all three of them. Brian tried perching his arse on the headboard but Roger whinged about “seeing nothing but Bri’s ballsack flopping about. And I know you see things when you’re gangbanging but that is too much.” In the end Brian stood next to the bed by Roger’s head, enough to the side that Roger’s view wasn’t impeded but still close enough so that the angle wouldn’t strain your neck. He gathered your hair into a messy ponytail as he pulled your mouth onto his cock, letting you work yourself further down his shaft as slowly as you needed, checking in with you every now and again to make sure you could take more. The other two were mostly still as you adjusted to Brian, though once or twice they’d given a small thrust or shifted slightly and made you whine. Once you had Brian buried as deep in your throat as he could go you paused for a few seconds and then pulled back again, strings of saliva breaking on your lips. “How was that?” “Good,” you gasped, “New. Kinda weird but very fucking good.” That didn’t really explain anything but you weren’t sure how to describe the nearly overwhelming fullness, the sudden heat, the tension in your belly which you couldn’t pinpoint as either anticipation or nerves or just because you were stretched open on three cocks. “And that’s without us doing anything,” “I know,” you grinned, “I’m excited. Why didn’t we try this sooner? But now you guys can cut loose. I’m not sure I’ll be much use in like riding you properly or whatever. Just don’t know my brain can focus on keeping both of you in my holes while I’m thinking about blowing Bri well. So, just fuck me however you can and we’ll see how it goes.” “Don’t worry, we’ll make you feel good,” John said, rubbing your back softly. “Yeah, course we will, love. And if ends up being shit then we can just take turns instead,” You nodded and took a deep breath before leaning forward to take Brian again. You controlled the pace once more, bobbing up and down his shaft, sucking on his tip, as the other two figured out their rhythm. It was a strange sensation to start. It felt clumsy and more than a little awkward, especially when John mentioned how he could feel Roger inside you. But that eased as they adjusted and worked out how best to fuck you. John held your hips as he plunged into you, each thrust harder than the last as his confidence rose and he found out what you liked most. Roger’s hands moved over your skin rather than staying in once place, palming your breasts and teasing your nipples between his fingertips before sliding down your side to grasp your waist and then back up to your breasts. You were rocked on his cock with each of John’s pounding thrusts, which only made you moan around Brian’s. You let instinct take over there, one hand stroking from his base up to meet your lips as you swallowed him deeper. His hips jolted when you whined or moaned and before long you dropped your hand away from his shaft, instead grabbing his arse to keep yourself steady. He pulled you off him again and you could feel the spit on your chin. “Forgot what a fucking incredible cocksucker you are.” Brian groaned, “But can I take over? Fuck your throat?” “Yeah, okay,” You had time for another breath and then you were pushed down again, right to the base. “There we go,” he groaned, pulling on your hair, “Gonna make you feel so fucking good.” Your hum was choked off and ended in a gag as Brian ground his hips into your face. That seemed to be the tipping point though. The moment all three of them forgot about awkward views or who was positioned where and became entirely consumed with fucking you deep and hard. You were glad to let them lead, grabbing you, pinching and pulling and squeezing every inch of you they could reach. And all the while spearing you on their dicks, keeping you in a cycle of mounting pleasure as they found all your most responsive spots inside and out. You felt your orgasm building again, the heat rising, getting more urgent as you got closer and closer. The sounds you made were muffled by Brian but that didn’t stop you making them, moaning with every pounding thrust. As you neared the edge Brian pulled you off his cock so they could all hear you properly, their encouragement mixing in your lust addled brain and creating a wall of noise that pushed you over the edge with a loud cry. And yet they didn’t stop. Brian waited until your orgasm was reduced to aftershocks that made you wince and whine and then cut off your air as he entered your throat again, resuming the long, deep strokes that made you gag until he came, holding you down as he emptied himself completely.

As soon as the other two didn’t have to worry about giving Brian access to your mouth they adjusted your position, John pushing on your back until you were bent over. Roger attached his lips to your throat as they simultaneously fucked into you, the change of angle pushing Roger’s cock against you in a way that had you seeing spots. You cried out again as Brian lay a slap on your arse. “Fuck, fuck, fuck,” John grunted as he came too, unable to hold out any longer though he didn’t withdraw from you either. His hips slowed a bit and he whined softly but he kept fucking you. “Rog,” you panted, trying to get him to finish too. “You’ve got another one in you, c’mon love,” You whined but nodded, the familiar sensation already tightening in the pit of your stomach. Again the three of them encouraged you, John wrapping his hand around your waist to find your clit, Brian reaching under you to squeeze your breast as his other hand came down on your arse again. They gave you no option but to cum, shivering between them. Finally Roger let go too, moaning into your ear as he filled you up.

It took a moment to disentangle everyone, John being careful not to go too fast and hurt you, but finally you were able to collapse together, sweaty and panting, spread out over the room. “So, cheered up now?” Brian asked from where he’d lain down on the carpet You peered over the edge of the bed at him, “Think so. Thanks for that, it was fun.” “Any time, love,” Roger chuckled from the end of the bed, patting your knee, “and I mean that.” “I’m not you groupie anymore,” “Never said you were,” “Then what?” “What Rog means,” John cut in from where he’d spread out on you window seat, “is that if you ever need cheering up or to let out some frustrations, we’re here. We’re happy to help,” “Does your help always involve a gangbang?” “Not always,” Brian laughed. “Well, a lot of the time,” Roger added with a wink. “I’ll keep it in mind,” you chuckled, “I’ll have to face my family at some point and there’s a high chance I’ll leave upset and frustrated so, we’ll see. Wonder how Freddie’s getting on with those calls.” “I’ll go give him a ring and find out,” Roger said, half groaning as he stood and stretched. He didn’t bother grabbing any of his discarded clothes before he left. “I’ll take Rog his pants,” John sighed as he got up and replaced his own underwear, exiting the room with an eyeroll, Roger’s underwear pinched between his thumb and pointer. “And I’ll...stay here?” Brian said, “unless you need anything?” “Nah, I’m going to jump in the shower. Let the other two know that’s where I am, would you?” “If you’re doing that, can I have the bed?” “Sure Bri,” you laughed, “as long as you promise to change the sheets when you wake up.”

[futurewriter2000]

Love Hurts - pt. 2

A/N: I HAVE BEEN PLANNING THIS ALL FUCKNG NIGHT! ALL NIGHT! AND I HAVE SO MUCH MORE PLANNED FOR THE NEXT PART LIKE GOD THIS IS MAKING ME SO EXCITED!

Translation: “Smiri se, ženo.” - Calm down, woman.                      “Ljubavi.” - Love                       

XX

Fred Weasley pretended that nothing had ever happened between the two of you. The two of you weren’t really close friends to begin with. The only thing the two of you shared was a house and classes. 

However, it didn’t feel right to him. He thought he could just ignore you, avoid you and that you would do the same but it wasn’t like that. Since that day he started seeing you more than he ever did in the last couple of years. He noticed you everywhere. The moment you walked into the class, the moment you left, the moment you sat down to eat, the moment you he came into the common room and saw you sitting there with your friends, the moment you walked around the corner in the corridor amount so many other students. 

He knew it was the guilt. The enormous guilt in his guts.

He could see you laughing with other of his classmates- as you were known for. Everybody liked you because of your cheeriness and even Lee could sometimes walk with you out of class and tease with you in a more flirty manner. 

It made him think that maybe, just maybe he wasn’t as special as you made him think he was. 

Everybody was on good terms with you. He needed that too because people started to ask him why on Earth do you and him not get along as much as the two of you used. He asked if you said anything but you said nothing and the least he could do was not say anything as well, especially tell people how he rejected you in the most horrible way possible. 

He needed to make this right. 

“(Y/n)!” he called out to you as soon as you left the classroom where it all started. 

You looked over your shoulder and saw his face. Clenching your jaw, you turned your head back forth and sped up. “I don’t have time for you, George. I’m late to my next class.” 

It stung when you called him by his brother’s name. You never called him George or Fred or Weasley. He was always Freddie to you and he thought he hated it back then but apparently he would prefer Freddie over any name right now. The tone in your voice was cold and distant, the eyes- once sparkly, now thin as ice. 

“You know I’m not George-”

“Ron then, whatever.” you snarked and sped up, him catching up with you. 

“Don’t hate me, please!”

“I don’t hate you, you fucking cunt!” you turned around sharply, staring deep into his eyes.

“Oh, your tone and words say differently.” he backed away a bit, being intimidated by your loathing stare. 

“I don’t hate you.” you tried to calm yourself down, lowering your tone and bringing down the intensity in your eyes. “I hate myself because I am such an idiot shit to think that somebody might like me- that maybe someone I like might like me back.” you turned away, then back up at him.

“Idiot shit?” he couldn’t help himself but laugh a little. “Really?”

You punched his shoulder and did again, just for pleasure of being furious with him. “Yes, really! Idiot shit!”

“Idiot shit then.” he grinned, leaning forward and trying to charm you with his eyes as he was known for. 

But you weren’t falling for those eyes and you could see so clearly in them that you did not matter to him. He wanted to apologise to make himself feel better, not you. 

“UGH!” you cramped your fingers in front of him with anger than just started backing away from him. “You’re an idiot shit. I bloody thought you were different.” you shook your head and let your voice get a bit weaker by that statement. You muttered something under your breath as well but he couldn’t hear you by then.

He knew he messed up. He truly did. “Let me make it up to you!” he shouted after you, rubbing the back of his neck but only got a middle finger in return. “Don’t hate me my arse.” 

---

Preparation for the ball was starting soon and students started pouring into the room with lit and excited faces. It was mostly the Hogwarts students but a few of them also had a date from other schools, such as Beauxbatons and Durmstrang. 

Fred was talking to his brother with Angelina by his side, he was close to Ron and Harry, teasing them both but letting George take the lead because his eyes got stuck on the girl that hated him.

With a bright smile on your face you walked right past him and to the group of Durmstrang boys, hugging the big blonde boy. You hugged him so that your head was laying on his chest and the boy smiled, looking down on you with a flirtatious smile. 

Fred felt his stomach clench a bit but he brushed it off quickly. 

The boy twirled you around, laughing and smiling, looking down on you, then back up. He pulled up close, whispering something in your ear and causing you to giggle and punch him lightly on the chest.

His jaw clenched as well. You? Friendly with a Durmstrang? Those furry twats?

“Thank you for doing this.” you told him, staring into his bright blue eyes.

“You kidding?” he put his arm over your shoulders and pulled you close. “I was sure you had a date and when I heard you didn’t, I had to ask you.” 

You looked up at him, furrowed your eyebrows and laughed, unable to form a sentance, only blush. “I’m a bad dancer, just so you know.”

“I’m not.” he looked down on you and winked. “Just follow my lead.”

Professor McGonagall started to talk about the Ball, pulling Ron into the middle and showing the rest of the class how to dance. Some laughed, some just watched. Everybody felt a bit uncomfortable but not your date. 

“Join us anytime now.” said professor McGonagall but nobody budged.

Your  date took your hand and stepped in front of you, leading you to the middle. 

“Please don’t.” you shook your head, panicking in your head.

“Smiri se, ženo.”  he whispered in his thick serbian accent. The two of you were already in the middle of the room, he bowed, kissing the back of your palm and pulling you close to him. 

You were closer than McGonagall ever was to Ron. You could smell his cologne and feel the heat radiate from his body. His hand placed itself on your hip and he laughed as you didn’t know what to do with yours.

“My shoulder, ljubavi.” 

You put your hand on his shoulder and you looked down at your feet. “What do I do with those.”

He laughed again, bumping his toes with yours. “You move this one back then we go right, up, left, down.” 

“Right, up, left, down.” you repeated, watching your feet as you could feel him chuckle a bit. 

“And watch me.” he said and you looked up into his big blue eyes. 

The two of you started moving and soon, people started to join you. You stepped on his toes and apologised constantly but he only chuckled in return. With time passing, the two of you started dancing more in sync, feet moving just right.

“I think I’m getting the hang of this, don’t you think?” you looked down on your feet than back at him. 

“You know what that means?” he grinned, wiggling with his eyebrows and looking at you with that mischief in his eyes. 

“No and I don’t think I want to know.”

“Ready?” he asked, getting a firmer grip on your back and pulling you close. 

“Ready for what?!” you started to panic but he only leaned a bit forward and started to spin you around. 

You let out a surprised yelp but continued to move around with your feet still in sync with his. He let out a laugh as he buried you close to him, hearing whistles from his Durmstrang colleagues before stopping and twirling you around until your back was pressed on his chest. 

“That, ljubavi drago, is years of folklore.” he laughed and so did you. 

Meanwhile on the side of the room, Fred couldn’t keep up with the Blonde. The Blonde twirled you around and danced with you, whispering to you, laughing with you and making you blush constantly. It made him a bit frustrated because Angelina and him were still struggling with the steps. Before they got a hold of it, the practice was already over and students started to pour out of the room. 

“Next time we are going to start to practice a Quadrille!” professor McGonagall shouted after the students. “It’s going to be done in two sets of pairs!” she continued to shout but all of you were already out of the room.

Fred kept watching you leave with the blonde boy, both wrapped in each other’s arms. He couldn’t stop watching the two of you. He was bothered more than he would like to have admit. The boy pointed at your messy hair that you got during the dance and you playfully grabbed his finger and started laughing. 

He missed that about you. For you and Fred to just laugh together and-

“You alright there, Fred?” Angelina put her hand on his shoulder and Fred immediately looked back at her. 

“Fantastic.” he gave her a bright smile, wrapping his arm around her. “We’ll do it better next time.” 

“Yeah- did you see (y/n) and that guy?” she mentioned all of a sudden. “I didn’t think she would show but she was actually great at it.” 

“Yeah.” Fred chuckled a bit. “Who is that guy anyway?” 

“Beats me but they surely look adorable together.” she smiled. “What happened between the two of you anyway?” 

“Hm?” Fred asked, looking at her with wide eyes. “What do you mean?”

“The two of you always used to talk a lot during class- did you pull a prank on her or something?” she narrowed her eyes at him.

“Something like that, yeah.” Fred smiled and rubbed the back of his head. 

“Fred.” she lowered her tone and he knew he was about to get scolded by his dance partner. “She is such a great girl, why would you ever prank her?” 

“I didn’t mean to. She was just there at the wrong place and the wrong time, alright?” he rolled his eyes. “And it’s not like I wanted to. We really weren’t friends to begin with anyway. She’ll get over it.”

“Whatever you say but she’s been with us since First year and I think it’s fair, you at least apologise to her.” 

“I tried. She told me I’m a cunt and an idiot shit.” 

“Bloody hell, Fred. What did you do to that poor girl?” 

“She’ll get over it.” Fred muttered, feeling something heavy rise up to his throat. “She will.” 

[jamilelucato]

Faking It || pt. 4 [F.W.]

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x reader; Fred Weasley x reader.

Part 1 || Part 2 || Hogwarts Masterlist

Summary: You’re a Slytherin dating Draco Malfoy and life is pretty normal until Fred Weasley decides that the best prank against Draco involves you; this won’t end well, will it?

*gif not mine 

Warnings: cheating; a bit angst

Words: 4k+

A/N:  I’m so late and I’m so sorry! But here it is! Final part!

Tag List: @marvelsmalfoy @naomi02hook @elf-punk @enjoying-fantasyland21 @stuckindilemma @moosewingsimagines @happiestsparkleofall​ @gredvb​ @sillypotterheadcrus

—

After the second kiss, y/N and Fred couldn't stop anymore. Fred was thriving, of course. His plan was working like he dreamed it would, and although at first, you didn't want to talk — you planned on keeping things impersonal so you could separate Fred from your real boyfriend —, he found his way around you to keep things a little more talkative.

"So, how was your day?" he asked once she walked inside the empty classroom they had agreed to meet in.

You stopped at your tracks, not completing your action of reaching for his hair. Was he asking about your day for real? Was he interested? You stared at him for a long second; it seemed so. His eyes were looking at you eagerly, waiting for your reply.

"It was busy," you had no idea how to answer that, it wasn't like you very familiarized with the question — your family never asked, you had no close friends to bother with that and Draco never seemed interested. "Had a lot do."

"Like what?" he encouraged you to continue, placing his hands softly at your waist, not making any more movements to rush to the snogging part.

You looked down at your feet, not sure of what to say.

"I had to do homework," you started but realized soon enough how simple that sounded. "'Cause I've been avoiding it all week — I hate doing it right away, you know?"

He pulled you closer to him, supporting his own body on the empty table.

"How about you?" you asked, remembering good manners.

"Busy being the third wheel to my brother," he said with a faded smile. "Can't say I didn't miss you."

"Fred..." you said his name as a warning, and it was all he needed to laugh it off, almost like an angry laugh.

"It's the truth," he said. Although it wasn't for much — he hadn't been thinking about you all day —, he had just missed you when he had to watch his twin kissing Angelina. He wouldn't admit, but he had grown fond of your kisses.

"This is not supposed to be happening, Fred," you kept going, leaning back, finally staring him in the eye. "If you..."

"It's out of my mind; puff!" he rushed to say, miming an explosion with his left hand.

He finally kissed you and with his lips on yours, any worrying thoughts you had, disappeared.

It took around two more making out sessions for you to start talking to Fred about Draco. It never occurred to you that he could use the information for something wicked, and you had already passed the stage were only mentioning Draco around Fred made you insanely guilty.

As soon as the first tip came out of your lips — Draco and the other Slytherins Quidditch players were going to be training around one a.m. for the following week —, Fred and George started shaping their prank.

Fred was careful not to leave anything that could track back to him and his twin, so you wouldn't be able to accuse him. And you never blamed him, because most of the time, you never heard about the pranks. Draco felt too exposed if he had to tell someone what was happening to him — papers missing for no reason, homework's pages blanc just after he had done them and all the team's brooms were now having defects (he was feeling bad for this one since it was his father that gave them to the players).

So you kept meeting Fred in the middle of the nights, hiding in new spots every day and empty classrooms you never knew existed. You felt sinful most of the daytime, especially when you were having a meal next to Draco, but when the nights fell, you felt anxious, desperate and desirous.

Every night with Fred was different — you two manage to find new ways of touching each other every time, even after you made him promise he would not push for sex, at least not the proper thing. There were many diverse ways... that, well, you weren't so reluctant to try.

But that wasn't all of it. You two didn't spend every time attached to each others' throats; there were evenings that you'd meet at the Astronomy Tower to chat and eat midnight snacks. Spending time with Fred was more than carnal; it had become emotional.

That was when you knew you had to do something. You couldn't keep cheating on Draco. At any time were you correct of doing it, but at least in the beginning, you convinced yourself it wasn't so wrong. After all, it was what your relationship with Draco was missing — touches, kisses. More than before, your boyfriend had become distant for those things.

Fred never pushed you to break up with Draco so you two could be public. In fact, he even asked about Draco quite often — things of "how was Draco's day?", "is he gonna practice Quidditch this week?",  or "is he gonna buy the whole team new brooms?" were questions you had answered.

A part of you believed that was Fred's way of telling you he didn't like the situation.

It was lunchtime when you decided you were going to break up with Draco Malfoy. It was going to be horrible, of course, but not because of you or him. The relationship was decadent anyway. The hard part would be listening to your parents complaining of how you let go of an excellent marriage chance, an opportunity of rising, even more, your pureblood status.

Oh, Merlin and when they would find out about you and Fred, how angry will they be! They despite Arthur Weasley and his "more muggle than pureblood" family.

You were also worried about Narcissa Malfoy; how nice and kind she had always been to you, and you were going to throw that all away for Molly Weasley — you heard a lot about her from Fred, and according to him, she would not like you at all.

But, even if it was going to be a living hell from now on, you had to do it. You were going to break up with Draco Malfoy.

***

Fred Weasley was hiding inside Harry's invisibility cloak, and the owner of it was right behind him and his twin — invisible as well.

"That was wicked," he whispered to the boys, "but now we have to rush out of here."

They walked out, slowly but steady, of the Slytherin's common room after watching Draco opening a special present they had sent him. The whole place had exploded with the worst smell of all time, and Draco even got blamed for it.

They were able to walk in firstly because they were invisible; secondly, because Fred walked you in your house last night and he happened to hear the password.

Once they were inside their common room, George breathed relieved.

"We could have gotten caught," he said, sitting down next to his twin in one of the red couches.

Harry sat in front of them, next to Hermione and Ginny, whose attentions were once at a Potions book.

"Nah," Fred replied, "it wouldn't be that bad."

"Of course it wouldn't be bad for you, Freddiekins," George said, not realizing what he was revealing before it was already out. "Your Slytherin princess would've come to your rescue."

Fred hit his brother on his neck, and George let out a loud "ouch!"

However, Ginny's and Hermione's eyes didn't even lock with theirs, as they expected.

Fred kept staring, confused.

"What?" Ginny asked. She noticed her brothers' worried looks before giggling. "As if we don't know about y/N."

"GEORGE!" Fred shouted, hitting his twin again, trying to be more painful this time.

"Stop it, mate, it wasn't me!" George shouted back, leaning away from his twin's hand.

"It wasn't him, Fred," Ginny spoke a bit louder so her brother would calm down immediately. "It was you actually."

George smirked before revengingly punching his twin.

"Me? I'm pretty sure I never even mentioned her to you."

"There was no need," said Hermione, closing the book and readjusting her posture.

"Firstly, you are very obvious," said Ginny. "Staring at her all the time, and frowning when she gets near Draco."

"Secondly," she continued, not allowing her brother to protest like he clearly did. "There needed to be an explanation of why you knew Draco's schedule from top to bottom."

Fred exchanged looks with his twin, who just shrugged in response. Harry tried not to laugh at the situation — he also knew everything about Fred's messing around.

"Besides, we caught the two of you holding hands in the hallways a couple of night ago," Hermione said, tilting her head towards Harry, making clear she had a witness.

"Okay, little Sherlock Holmes, you guys caught me," Fred sighed, leaning his back at the couch, relaxing. "But wasn't it worthy? Wasn't it super fun watching Draco and the rest of the dimwitted from Slytherin suffering?"

"It was the best time ever!" Harry celebrated, and Fred couldn't help but laugh with the boy.

"See?" Fred raised a brow to his sister. "Someone knows how to have fun."

"Oh, we had fun, Freddie," Ginny smirked, "and we will have so much more when it all blows up."

Fred pretended to be shocked, putting his hand over his heart. "Poor Draco Malfoy," he laughed.

"No, brother," Ginny continued, dropping the smirk as her tone got more serious. "Poor you."

*** Fred and George were walking side by side after Quidditch practice. They wanted to be running, but after the killer look Mr Filch sent them when he saw the two, they decided it was best to avoid it even if they were hungry.

George decided that if they simply washed their hands and faces, it'd be enough to walk in the Great Hall, so that was what they did. Their Quidditch jumper was a bit dirty, but they thought it was best to overlook it and simply eat.

Ginny, however, was running through the corridors, looking desperately for her brother. Once she found them, she had a little trouble stopping on her tracks, and her face almost ended up dirty because of George's jumpers.

"What the bloody hell, Ginny?!" Fred asked, holding one of her arms.

"Fred!" she shouted, a little breathless. "Y/N and Draco! They...!"

"They what, woman?" demanded George, rather impatient as well as his twin.

She took a deep breath before finally sharing. "They broke up, Fred. Y/N and Draco broke up."

Her words hovered in the air, Fred hoping he hadn't heard Ginny right. But there was no mistake as he noticed his siblings staring at him, both worried.

So you had broken up with Draco. Oh, Merlin, you had broken up with Draco! That completely ruined his plans! How was he going to know the Slytherin boy next steps?

"Fred," George started, slightly touching his twin's arm, "you have to do something."

"I know," Fred replied, not facing his twin nor Ginny.

"Are you ready to do it?" Ginny asked, but Fred couldn't understand what she meant. He had to tell you to forget about him; it wasn't that hard.

The three Weasleys kept walking towards the Great Hall, but George and Ginny left Fred behind when he stopped walking at the sight of you.

Ginny's question was starting to make sense as he tilted his head to the secret passage he wanted you to follow him through. He wasn't ready to break things up with you.

You followed him, no longer afraid if people were watching you. You weren't the one to blame anymore — you were, after a long year, single again.

Fred, however, wasn't patient enough to wait until you two were completely out of sight and he shouted at you as soon as you two had turned to another corridor just a few steps away from the Great Hall's entrance.

"How could you?!"

"What?" you asked, confused.

"How could you break up with Draco?" he asked loudly, finally looking at your [y/e/c] eyes. He regretted almost immediately, but he couldn't look away.

"Oh," you sighed, relaxing your tense muscles. "It had nothing to do with you."

"Really?!?" he frowned in a fake smile.

You gulped, "Well, you influenced the decision — it's true — but this doesn't mean at all that I expect you to propose or something."

He tilted his head to the left, pressing his fingers over his eyes.

"Then, why — why — did you break up with him?"

His hostile tone was turning you angry too, even though you had been feeling relieved a couple of minutes ago.

"Why?" you repeated, nervously giggling. "Oh my, Fred, why do you think? Because what I was doing was wrong! I was cheating on him! Don't you see how it was a bad thing, for both me and Draco?"

He looked back at you.

"It wasn't all that bad if we had so much fun," he wrinkled his nose and raised a brow.

"Well, Fred, it can still be fun!" you couldn't understand what his problem was. At first, you thought he was afraid of commitment, but you had assured him that he didn't need to be your boyfriend right away. Now it seemed as if he enjoyed being a love affair.

"No, it cannot!" Fred replied, shaking his head without having a good reason why.

You gulped while turning away from him. Though you didn't leave, you just needed him not to see you crying. That was when you noticed you had an audience.

Ginny Weasley wasn't watching you two; she was pushing Pansy Parkinson away from the scene. Fortunately, they were the only two present. You hid your face in your hands, waiting for Pansy's smart comments. There were none, however.

You glanced up at the Slytherin girl, who offered you her sympathetic look.

And that was how you found out.

Pansy had been telling you how on Earth the Slytherin players were so unlucky — with their brooms and all (you hadn't paid attention to that part) — and she wondered how people even discovered they were training at midnight.

Their practice hour was the most kept secret that the Slytherins tried to hide at all costs, particularly because if a Professor ended up knowing, they'd get punished, as it was forbidden.

At the time, you had ignored her remarks, as you were too distracted trying to figure out why there were so many girls around Fred, at the other side of the Courtyard.

However, now you knew. There was someone outside of the Slytherins that knew about the unusual Quidditch training sessions, and that was someone unusually notable for hate your team.

You turned to face Fred, with a killer expression, one he got afraid of at first sight.

"You used me," you said, your voice just a whisper because you didn't want it to be true.

"What?" he asked gulping.

"You used me!" you now shouted, one step away from getting your wand and hexing him.

He didn't say a thing and took a step back. Wrong move, Freddie, you thought.

"How oblivious have I been, oh, Merlin!" you kept roaring. "Draco's hair shorter one day after he left the library — he said he didn't want to talk about it—; the brooms of my team, all broken..."

You connected all the dots as Fred leaned away from you, and that was it for you. Reaching for your wand, you screamed: “Diffendo!"

Fred got his wand as well. "Y/N, stop! I don't wanna hurt you, please stop!" he screamed, defending himself from the spell. "I don't want to hurt you."

You lowered your wand, taking a deep breath. Hurting Fred wasn't going to turn back time, and you couldn't prevent yourself for having fallen for him. Shit, you had to realize it now?

"Don't worry, Weasley," you said, using his last name to sound as indifferent as you could. "You already did."

***

Your life was just going to classes and your dorm. When you felt hungry, you'd go to the kitchen and ask for the house-elves to prepare you something. Sometimes, Pansy Parkinson appeared with food.

You didn't expect her to turn out as your friend, but she surprised you by being very nice towards you. She kept you informed about what was going on in the school since you no longer felt like walking around it.

She was even kind enough to not gossip to everyone about you and Fred — although you couldn't be sure about that since you didn't ask around about it.

You didn't felt like leaving this routine soon. Every place in the castle seemed to hold its particular memory of one of yours and Fred's snick outs. Apparently, you two had made out all over the school, which made it harder for you to pass through hallways without remembering.

Stupid! How could you still miss someone that was just messing around with you? He used you for information about your ex, and yet, there you were, thinking about him.

***

Fred was miserable. He didn't think he would be, but he was.

After that whole scene he and you caused, he felt no longer hungry. Ginny told him she'd ask George to check up on him later, so Fred was free to disappear.

"I knew it was a bad idea," George said, sitting next to his brother on his bed, "but you were so happy..."

"Don't look very happy now, huh?" Fred sighed.

"You should talk to her."

"Are you kidding? She tried to 'Diffendo' me! Next time, I'm sure she won't hesitate to cast Avada Kedrava," Fred stared at his twin.

"Can you blame her, though?" George raised a bow at his brother.

And Fred couldn't. He knew you were right, and he was the wrong one, the one to blame. It was all his fault.

However, he did not stay locked in his room because he expected to see you around and corner you. But you weren't there in the meals, and you weren't walking around the corridors.

Oh, the corridors. Fred could point out every hidden spot he had used to kiss you, squeeze you. At this point, he had to accept he had gone mad.

It was not only until a particular Potion class, that he came to the undeniable realization of being in love.

"Merlin, why is this class smelling like chocolate?" he asked out loud to his brother, after walking in late. "Slughorn decided to offer us a chocolate frog, is that it?"

Some of the students around them started laughing.

"It doesn't smell like chocolate at all," George denied, frowning.

Fred thought about it — there was something else, but it was definitely chocolate. An exact type of chocolate, one he was missing the taste.

"That, my dear Mr Weasley," said Slughorn, coming near the boys," is the Amortentia Potion our dear Hannah is helping me prepare" and the Professor pointed to a girl messing with a cauldron.

George and Fred exchanged looks. The older twin gulped.

"Chocolate, huh?" Slughorn continued. "Is that what does it for you?" the entire class sprang laughing at the comment.

Fred knew what the Amortentia was: a love potion that left a smell of the thing one loved, imitating the scent of a loved one.

And there was only one girl Fred had kissed that smelled like chocolate.

***

"You got to do something about it," exclaimed Ginny, after hearing everything about the Amortentia. George was the one to fill her in.

"I will, little sister."

"Because if don't..." Ginny kept going only then realizing her brother's answer. "You will?"

Fred nodded affirmatively.

"How will you find her, though?" she questioned. "She's not leaving her room."

"She tried this morning," meddled Ron, who was eavesdropping all this time. "But she received a Howler, an extra loud one. From her mom — she was disappointed with her daughter for breaking up with Draco."

Fred sighed; there was nothing he could do about that. Besides, he had no idea of how to counter you.

That was until he saw Pansy Parkinson leaving the kitchen with a tray of food. Fred knew immediately to who she was taking it.

"Give it to me, Parkinson," he asked, not very politely.

"Get out, Weasley," she tried outrunning him, but failed because she was scared of dropping the food.

"Come on, we both know she can't stay hiding anymore," Fred said, "and we both know I'm the only one able to stop it."

She seemed to think about it before sighing and giving in.

"Go, lover boy," she handed him the tray.

Fred walked just two steps before turning back at the Slytherin girl.

"What's the password?" he asked, smiling embarrassedly.

"No way I'm telling you," she crossed her arms.

"Oh, come on!"

"I'll come with you," Pansy rolled her eyes and guided Fred to the dungeons.

***

The Slytherin common room was not crowded, which Fred was very thankful because he managed to walk through it without getting stopped.

"It's that door," Pansy informed him, pointing out a door to the left.

Fred breathed hard before walking in.

"Pansy, thank you for..." you froze once you noticed it was Fred. "What are you doing here?"

You stood up, showing the least formal clothing Fred had ever seen you wear. Sweat pants and a jumper, a red one even, much similar to the ones his mom makes him every year.

"We need to talk."

You rolled your eyes while he carefully positioned the tray over one of the beds.

"Weasley, I know everything I need to know."

"No, you don't," he contested. "You think you do, and perhaps at the start, it was true. I used you to get info on Draco."

You reached for the door. "That's all I need to know," you said, "Care to leave now?"

"Stop running from me, y/N, I'm not gonna hurt you," he remembered your words from days before and added: "Not anymore, anyway."

You groaned, closing the door.

"You have a minute."

He smiled at the opportunity.

"You don't know everything, okay?" he started, putting his hands in his pockets. "You don't know how I wait for the day to turn night just so I could see you again, kiss you again..."

"Have you as mine, even if for a couple of hours, was better than any prank I could have pulled on Draco," he kept going, staring straight at your eyes. "And at first, I didn't want to admit it. I wasn't brave enough to assume I was in love, not until I kinda did it in front of the whole class."

At the mention of the word "love", you felt your heart skip a beat. Could he be serious?

"You told everyone you were in love with me?" you asked, confused and curious.

"Not like that," he answered. "Have you heard of Amortentia?"

You nodded positively. You had studied it at the beginning of the year.

"Mine was smelling like chocolate," he continued, "and I told it to the entire class. They didn't realize what it meant, of course, but I did."

You stared at him, expectedly. Chocolate was it for you too — at least, it was the first thing you thought he tasted like when he kissed you that night many days ago at the Astronomy Tower.

"There's only someone I've kissed that tasted like the finest chocolate ever," he said, pressing his lips together, scared of your reaction.

"Freddie..." you started saying but didn't know how to proceed. You had to stop his puppy eyes from coming out; you had to stop him from looking at you like that — like you were his deepest desire.

But at the sound of his name coming for your lips, his heart melted just a little more.

He looked at you, expecting you to continue talking. His hand ran to his hair, nervously, just like he did at the Astronomy Tower.

"Nothing," you said, smiling acceptingly, repeating your words from that night as well.

And he remembered. He remembered every moment he spent with you.

So he rushed towards you, reaching for your chin, holding it tight so you wouldn't disappear But there was nowhere else you wanted to be.

His lips met yours, not taking long for it to get passionately. You two missed each other too much to pretend not to be eager. And he tasted like chocolate, just like he did before. Just like he would always taste.

[just-a-poor-boy-queen]

I know Bill Reid was American but let's pretend for the sake of the story that he's enough of a stalker to visit England just to track Freddie down.

Credit goes to the anon who asked for Freddie rejecting an ex-boyfriend. I considered doing the headcanon about Freddie coming out on live television as well but I personally can't imagine him ever doing that, not even in an AU, given that it could potentially put his family in danger. Thank you very much for the idea anyway, anon.

--

Part 29 of Jimercury Kid series

‘You have a lot of nerve showing your face around here.’

From the other side of the room, Bill Reid smirked. It was such an ugly expression. Freddie could hardly believe he had once found the man attractive; he was so hideously smug. ‘What can I say? I’ve missed you, Freddie.’

‘Don’t.’ Freddie nearly snarled. ‘You don’t get to walk in here, into my house, and act like nothing has happened.’

‘Come on, Fred.’ Bill went on, ignoring how the Persian man cringed at the nickname. ‘I know we had our ups and downs. But we were good together.’

‘Oh, please.’ Freddie laughed bitterly. ‘You only liked being with me because I made a good punching bag. Or target practice for when you felt like flinging bottles around.’

‘I loved you, Freddie.’ Bill walked forward until they were almost touching, the frontman taking a noticeable step back. ‘I still love you. I’m ready to give us another go.’

At this, Freddie almost cackled. ‘In your dreams, Bill. I have a life now. I have a husband who loves me, who treats me right. And a beautiful, beautiful little boy. I couldn’t be happier. So, if I were you, I’d leave now and never come back.’

He heard the conservatory door close in the distance; moments later, Khaleel came scurrying in, covered head to foot in dirt as he hugged Freddie’s leg gleefully. ‘Baba! Me and Daddy finished planting the carrots! Daddy let me do all the digging!’

On any other day, Freddie would have made a fuss about his son coming into the lounge covered in soil, but today he scooped the little boy up into his arms and gave him a big kiss on his grubby cheek. ‘That’s wonderful, Bijou. I’m so proud of you.’

Khaleel’s blue-green eyes scanned Bill Reid, face immediately falling. He had always been a good judge of character. ‘Who’s that, Baba?’

‘Someone Baba used to know.’ Said Freddie calmly, looking Bill right in the eye. ‘And he was just leaving.’

Bill looked ready to argue, but at that moment Jim appeared in the doorway, still in his overalls and gloves, and Reid noticeably paled. Jim wasn’t that much taller than him, but he was much broader and undoubtably tougher. Freddie couldn’t help but let the corners of his lips turn upwards; his Jim could put Bill through a wall.

‘This lad bothering you, sweetheart?’ Jim asked, eyes never leaving Bill’s.

‘Not anymore.’ Freddie replied, as Khaleel snuggled closer to him. ‘He was just going.’

Realising he was getting nowhere, Bill finally admitted defeat and headed for the door, where Phoebe was ready to escort him out. He lingered a moment, looking over at Freddie with an unreadable expression.

‘I meant what I said.’ He said quietly, looking humble for the first time in his life. ‘I really did love you.’

Freddie didn’t respond, didn’t even meet his eyes. He nestled his nose into Khaleel’s messy hair until the mistake from his past finally walked out of his life for good and sighed in relief as he felt Jim put his arms around him.

‘You both need a bath.’ He chuckled, wishing his body would stop shaking.

--

I'm open for requests! I'm aging up Khaleel again so he'll be seven years old from now on. I'm willing to write pretty much anything but please don't be offended if I don't fulfil your prompt for my own comfort. I can't wait to see what you guys come up with! 💜💜

Ohhh Bill Reid!! Yeah, he was an obsessed guy lol. And I am glad Freddie has come a long way since then, realising that violence isn't a normal aspect of a relationship—thanks to his darling husband—and the fact that Bill abused him, and not loved him. Also, I am glad Bill had the mind to leave Freddie alone after seeing Jim lol, who wasn't all that taller than Freddie, but a bit more broadly built (though I am sure he'd crush any person who posed a threat to his family).

Ahh come on people, send in your requests! For some reason my tag for all the requests (#prompts for writer anon) isn't displaying all the prompts, but I'll find a way to make it more convenient for you to find the them, dear writer anon.

Until then, can you please write someone from the band observing Freddie being a father? Maybe Roger? You can write it from their perspective, or not if you aren't comfortable with their pov and only want to stick to the pov of the garden lodge occupants.

(More drabbles by writer anon)

(All the parts of this series can also be found under the tag #freddie and jim and their baby on this blog)

[fangirlings-things]

The Border Control Project [Part. 2]

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

Fandom: Extraction

Pairing: Tyler Rake x female reader

Summary: you're Tyler's next mission and turns out, you need him more than you want to

Word count: 2.4K

Warnings: curse words, violence and mentions of kidnapping

Based on this imagine

Gif credit: @thoresque

A/N: thank youuu so much for all the feedback guys!! I was so happy to know that you liked the story so here I am with part 2, hope you all enjoy it!!

Part. 1

Theme song: Shameless, Camila Cabello

Right now I'm shameless

Screaming my lungs out for you

Not afraid to face it

I need you more than I want to

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

In a matter of five days, Tyler had learned a lot about that (Y/N) (Y/L/N). The file he had asked for had been delivered with not less than sixteen pages and a pen drive. There, the intelligence people had gathered everything they could find on social media and informations passed to them by the family. With that intel, he was supposed to know her even before he actually did. 

He found out that (Y/N) had been born in Chicago, on the 4th of July. The bloody fireworks of independence day were blowing up in the sky while her mother finally gave birth after a 13 hours labour. Through all her childhood, she went to private schools and had the best education a kid could possibly have. She graduated high school with excellent grades and went strictly to the University of Illinois at Chicago, to study History. 

She loved coffee and was fascinated by ancient artefacts and events. Her favorite movie was Star Wars. She was a great fan of Queen and even had a Freddie Mercury poster at her beedrom back in Chicago. Books were a passion of hers, she had read over forty at the age of 18, when other teens would probably be causing trouble around and getting themselves into the life of alcohol and sex. But that didn't mean that that girl didn't knew how to party as well. 

She frequently attended to parties, drank just enough to the alcohol in her system to make her happier and would dance through the night with her friends. Tyler saw some pictures and a video and in all of them, that girl seemed to have no worries at all. She smiled, laughed, passed her hands through her hair and closed her eyes to feel the beat of the music that was ringing in her ears. The thought that she might never smile like that again after what was happening, kinda disturbed him. 

It took some watching through surveillance cameras, intel and study of some rotes of the city, but the team Nik had putted up together called a meeting with everyone who was out after exactly a week since they had first gotten there. They had found (Y/N)’s location. 

She was being kept at a incredibly large house for Guadalajara's standards. That part of the city was one of the richest and yet, that place stood out.

With it's enormous extension, the odd distance from every other building in a raid of three miles, metal huge gates and the two heavily armed men guarding the way in, it pretty much seemed like a fortress. A place where important people would probably hide in troubled times. Although in that moment, it was being used by a total different goal.

Such goal placed Tyler just where he was, on the inside of an old '75 Chevrolet, driving smoothly and calmly while heading to the adress he had watched for a day and a half from the woods near by. He had gone there with questions, and came back with it's answers. How many men? At least twelve, plus the two at the gates. Who went in? Not a single soul. Who went out? Two men in a black SUV. Probably the driver in the front and the big boss, whomever that was, in the back. He didn't get a clear visual on any of them to get facial recognition. Which pretty much, pissed him off.

Tyler had gotten into his head that he wanted to figure out who was behind that shit. Who wanted to shut down the Border Control Project and had gone far enough as to kidnapp the daughter of the Senator. Nik had been right before, when she said that a lot of people could have done it. Dealers, traffickers, corrupted politicians, dirty cops. A bunch of them could go down with that project's approval. Whomever it was, the odds weren't good for (Y/N). But well, that's where he came in. To improve those odds. To fucking rescue her and get his money.

When Tyler made a turn to the left and the house he was going to invade showed up in his sight, he took a deep breath and instantly began to slow down the Chevrolet, making the velocimeter drop quickly, until he stopped right in front of the metal gates. 

"¿Qué estás haciendo?" the smaller of the two men guarding the gates was quick to approach the car with his ACR firmly between his hands, a stern expression on his face. 

What are you doing. Tyler putted on his face the best surprised and scared look he could, while taking his hands out of the wheel and then raising his hands in the air. He kept his bright eyes locked on the gun the man caried, trying to make him see the fake fear he was showing. 

“Salga del coche, cabrón!” again the smaller of the guards spoke up, just as Tyler reached for the window of the car that was closed. The fact for itself seemed to piss the guard off, because now from up close Tyler could see that his knuckles were white from gripping the ACR too tightly. “Vamos, vamos!”

“No habló español! No hablo español!” Tyler placed as much accent as he could on those words, eyes still on the other's gun. Get out of the car, of course he understood. But oh, he wasn't going to do that. Not before the other guard came closer as well. 

“Step out of the car” translated the taller man, doing exactly as Tyler predicted, taking a few steps towards the Chevrolet. 

Tyler nodded, keeping the frightened expression in his face. Slowly he opened the door and got out of the car, stepping in front of the two men with as much causality as he could with his hands in the air again. The smaller one kicked the door of the car closed and held his gun straight to Tyler’s face, as the taller one came even closer and analyzed Tyler up and down with a uninterested look.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” the taller guard asked, calm but yet, as dangerous as the other one. He had his hands on his gun, but just for protocol. His grip wasn’t that tight in the metal beneath his fingers. His mistake, Tyler thought to himself.

“My name is Jeffrey, I’m a tourist” Tyler said with the best worried voice he had, keeping his eyes locked on the one who could speak english. “I lost my turn on the road and don’t know how to get back to the city. Please, I just stopped for information”

The taller man squeezed his brown eyes, thinking about his words. Deciding if he should believe him or not. After minutes that seemed like hours, he bought the story and nodded for the other to lower his weapon. His second and last mistake.

Tyler acted like a lightning. Too quick. He elbowed the smaller one that was closer, kicked him in the legs and made him fall, hitting his head on the ground. Just before the taller one could grip his weapon firmly enough to shoot, Tyler grabbed it and took it out of his hands after throwing him a punch. Two shots, the taller one was gone. He turned around to shot at the smaller one and was surprised to see that he had already gotten up and charged forward, aiming the gun to his face again. Tyler pulled the trigger four times. The blood wet the ground and he was alone.

“The front gate is clear” he said, after pressing the wire in his right ear so that the team could hear him clearly. Leaning down, he inspected the smaller one’s pockets and after finding nothing, went to the other dead man and found the keys to open the gate in his back left pocket. The keys he had seen they use while he was on watch.

“Well done, Jeffrey” Nik’s voice seemed to come from inside his own head, like she was his consciousness. As he smirked for a moment for the childish thought, he couldn’t deny, that would be a good thing for him. To be rid of his bloody consciousness, if he had one at all.

“I’m going in” he twisted the keys on the gate and heard the lock click, opening. 

Instead of entering though, he stepped to the side and leaned against the big walls. As he expected, the men from inside had heard the gunshots and went to the gates. Now, they were stepping outside slowly, with their guns held high and strongly.

Tyler took a deep breath. Feeling excitement run through his whole body in the form of pure adrenaline, he started to pull the trigger over and over again.  

            • ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

You woke up to the sound of gunshots. Endless gunshots. They scared you and ringed in your ears as if they were coming from millimeters away. You thought if some of the men had began a fight between themselves. You had heard some of them arguing before, but they never got violent. Until now, anyway.

The idea that they could be distracted occurred to you and you found yourself realizing that that would be the best moment for you to escape. To try and get out of there without being noticed. Even the man that guarded your door, Juan, as you had heard other call him, was gone. Probably to inspect the origin of the firing.

Pulling against the restrains with enough force to scratch your skin you tried desperately to be free, not allowing yourself to make a single sound behind the gag. Oh no, you wanted them to continue forgetting that you were there and that you were now alone.

The gunshots stopped after so much time that now the sudden silence felt weird. The quiet made you panic, because you were very aware that your chance to escape was slipping away from you. Your only chance.

You started to scream from frustration behind the gag, crying and pulling so much that your arms ached and hurt as if they were being cut open. The door then was kicked open and that was when you really started to scream.

That man, you had never seen around the house you had been taken to. He was really tall, blond. Wore a blue shirt that had the same color of his eyes and old jeans. He was covered in blood. So much blood. In his face, arms, boots. Blood everywhere. The sight made you sick with fear. Was he the one sent to finally kill you? The moment he pulled out a knife from his waist, you got the confirmation you needed.

The tears wet your face and you made one last, useless attempt on the restrains. He got closer to the mattress, towering over you like a fucking building. You closed your eyes and took one last deep breath, finally accepting your fate as he kneeled on the floor beside you.

And then the restrains were gone.

Opening your eyes, you felt his rough hands touching your skin as he took the ropes completely out of your arms and then reached for your gag. Instantly, you kicked him in the legs making him fall on his side.

You ran out of the room, your hand flying to your own mouth and taking the gag out. You tossed it aside and forced your legs to work as without any orientation you tried to find your way out of that place. You ran as fast as you could, but you only made it to two corridors until you found yourself falling to the ground with a heavy weight upon your body. That man’s body.

You screamed and kicked, pushed and punched. Freedom was so close. You just had to…

“Stop fighting!” the man spoke for the first time, turning your body towards his and grabbing your hands when you tried to punch him in the face. He pressed your wrists with an iron grip to the ground. You continued trying to kick him, and that made his grip get harder. “Listen to me, (Y/N)! I’m here to save you!”

That made you go still. Frozen in place. None of the men there before had used your name. Never. You had the feeling that they didn’t even knew who you were. They were just tools, used to keep you under control under the command of someone much more important.

You stared into the man’s eyes, analyzed his expression. It was serious, dangerous. Some of the blood from his face fell on yours as you just stared at him and thought of the odds of him being actually telling the truth.

“If what you say is true then get the fuck away from me” you growled at him, every word hurting your throat as you spoke again after so much time in silence.

“Will you run if I let you go?” he asked fiercely, staring deeply into your eyes with such intensity that it made you nervous. Only when you denied with your head, he complied to your demand and released you, getting to his feet.

You got up slowly, without taking your eyes out of his for even a moment as you did. Your eyes went down to the knife that was back at his waist. You swallowed dry and tried to run again, but he seemed to have predicted that for the way he grabbed your forearm before you could get even a few steps away.

“Listen to me!” he grabbed both of your arms and shoved your much smaller body into the nearest wall. “Your father hired me! The Senator! I’m here to get you to safety but I cannot do that if you keep trying to run from me!"

“And I am just supposed to believe you?” you looked up at his face, the dry tears on your face now were mixed with blood you had gotten from him. “How can I believe you?”

“Your name is (Y/N) (Y/L/N)!” he said firmly, his grip still firm. “Your mother is Eleanor and your father is Charles (Y/L/N)! You love coffee, you were born in Chicago! Your best friend’s name is Maggie! Your favorite movie is Star Wars and you study History at college! Your first cat was named Thomas, he died two years ago!”

You just stared at him in complete shock. It was true. Everything he had just said about you. He new everything. Stuff no one could know unless they had spoken to your family. He was telling the truth.

“Y-you’re telling the truth” you said in a weak tone, trying to wrap your mind around the fact. After such time being a prisoner, you couldn’t believe it.

“I am” he seemed calmer now that he could see you believed him, but his eyes were still dangerous. Still completely alert. “Now let’s go. We have to get out of here before whomever kidnapped you notices what I did and sends reinforcements”

• ───━━━━─ ● ─━━━━─── •

tag list: @posiemax ; @annaallicce ; @alievans007 ; @imiiimargo ; @chickensarentcheap ; @fangirlsarah16 ; @innerpaperexpertcloud ; @ri-wantstorunaway ; @keikomia

[coffee-n-bagels-comic-universe]

January 3rd or One's Beginning is another's end (Daughters of Darkness)

This passage contains potentially: Explicit Language, Depictions of Violence (including mentions of blood), Smoking, Slang and maybe some bad translations.

Summary: An introduction to the world of the Daughters of Darkness, through the eyes of series protagonist Kirby 'Gluttony' Lucifarian. The first day and night, from her perspective, of them working for the WWF.

Kirby's POV:

Tuesday. The first day of being 'on the job', Tuesday the third of January 1984. Damien got us into the WWF. … Damien, managed to get us into the quickest rising wrestling promotion, popularity wise. To be honest with you, Damien's given us free reign to get to know people, for now. I don't know anyone here. I've heard of people here, such as the most famous giant in the world, and … Hogan.

I'm not here because I earned it, I'm here because I'm a necessity for the team. That's how I view it. That's how I've always viewed it. Vickie needed someone to make fun of and, well, I'm the easiest choice. Then, in the midst of a darker path of thought becoming clearer in my mind...

WHAM

Both me and the figure I waltzed into thudded to the floor, "Oh, my good lord. I'm so sorry are you o..."

I looked at the figure before me, taking in how much trouble I had created in the last three seconds.

Taller than myself.

Head covered by a wild afro.

Around double my weight.

André.

André the giant.

Flat on his arse … because of me.

Oh … Shit.

"Are you alright, Mademoiselle…"

I could tell he was searching for a name but didn't know it. Too frightened to even speak I glanced away. I noticed his shadow move.

"Mademoiselle?"

His footsteps came closer, he sounded … worried, as if he didn't want me to get fired for this.

"Mademoiselle?"

He picked me up, not off the ground, but so I could stand. I whispered out a small 'thank you', or rather 'merci'. His hands still on my shoulders, he smiled sweetly and nodded, as if to beckon forth more words from me.

"I'm Kirby, or rather, Gluttony. I'm new around here."

André grinned, putting his arm around my shoulder, pulling me closer before stopping upon seeing how much taller than every other woman in the company I am.

"Are you, uh …" he searched for the words

"A giant, yes, technically a giantess."

I feel I should summarise the next hour or so, but, André took me on a tour of the backstage area and we talked, about everything. Within an hour I had gained a new friend, a genuine friend, someone who didn't care about my height or looks. I know the only reason he didn't care is because he knows what it's like to be stared at just because you aren't 'normal'.

By the time André's tour had ended it was time for Vickie and Damien's interview with Mean Gene, which I was to attend. I said a goodbye to André and rushed off to perform my usual role.

The Enforcer, or rather, the intimidation device, that's my role in this group, to scare people, that's all I do. Before joining the group I was part of another group back in England, The Celtic Warriors, I was part of a championship winning tag team. Now what am I, a damned intimidation device, a human scare tactic.

The Interview:

Gene's first question for us, actually, Damien and Vickie (whilst I stood behind them and looked 'menacing'), was 'How are you doing so far?'

Damien began, "You know something, Gene, my girls have yet to have a match, but we are doing absolutely fine. In shape, ready to rock, ready to roll. Gene, every one of the Daughters of Darkness are doing fine."

Vickie followed suit, "Just look at us," She gestured to me and then herself, "Don't we look marvellous, Gene."

Gene smirked, "You could say that again, miss?"

"Pride, though you can call me Vickie."

Damien glared at the smaller man, almost as if he was daring him to try and flirt with her.

Gene readjusted and focused in on the prospect of new women in the WWF and the possibility of more matches. "Uh hum, yes, now how soon do you girls think you'll be seeing a match on the cards?"

"Soon, Gene, Soon." Vickie stated, ending the interview by walking off.

The first night after 'work' was surprisingly normal, Damien and Vickie went off in their rental car, taking Holly and Eli with them whilst the rest of us stood around backstage for a while.

Billie brought a pack of cigarettes and a lighter out of her purse, lighting one up and walking over to me, sitting down on a box placed near by and blowing the smoke away from me she spoke up.

"What's up with you, Tall-ass."

"Thinking."

"Dangerous pastime hermana."

"I know, hermana"

"You collect phrases, don' cha?"

"They may come in handy, Billie, one day."

"You going to the gym tomorrow?"

"Of course. Gotta train. Gotta … gotta settle in somehow, right?"

"Right, mi hermana, I'll see you around, alright?"

"See ya, Billie."

She waved back at me as she walked away.

Billie was the only person who knew that I 'collected' those little phrases that seem like nothing until spoken. Language isn't my strongest aspect, more often than not I'm silent and I try to avoid other peo-

"Hey! watch where you're walking man!" I yelped out, shocked back into the present moment. Instantly regret flooded my mind as I realised who had barged past me to get out of the building.

Big John Studd.

One of the most disrespectful 'giants' in the world of wrestling. famous for being the one man who pisses André off more than anyone else, including the Iron Sheik.

He sneered back a quick, "Who gives a fuck." and continued to stroll away.

That … that fuckwit. Who does he think he is. I felt a gentle hand place itself on my shoulder. I turned, expecting to see Eli or P.G, I was face to, well, chin with André.

"Forget about him," He started, with that same sweet, friendly smile from earlier, "Damien said you may need a ride back to the hotel. I don't recommend you walk back now, too dark out for a young lady such as yourself."

The way his R sounds turned into faint W's and he missed off or faintly implied H's was calming. Almost in the same way that hearing a parents voice would calm a child after a nightmare.

"Oh, uh, it's okay André, I was going to get a taxi."

He nodded in response, somehow both downhearted and curious, as if he knew that I was either lying to him or if I did get a taxi, the immense pain my back would be in the following day. André sauntered off, leaving me, once again by myself.

I don't mind being alone, in fact most of my life I have been alone, always the outcast, it was only when I got into wrestling that it started to change.

I picked up my bag and started walking, buttoning up my shirt up to the top of my chest, my near-neon orange shirt covering down to my mid-forearm, hiding any noticeable tattoos, except the one on my wrist, when I turned eighteen, I got a small, runic 'R' on my right wrist, in remembrance of my uncle Rory, the tallest of my dad's brothers.

It took about an hour to get to the hotel, an hour of walking through a city I'm not familiar with, when I eventually got to the hotel I went straight to my room and locked myself in. All alone, I could practice or train if I wanted, so I did.

I took off my black shirt, shoes and belt and I stood in the middle of the hotel room and practiced punching, then I switched to doing my warmups and working out, push-ups, planks, squats. By the time I finished it must've been around midnight, maybe one or two am. I got some sleep, waking up at six, getting changed into some fresh workout gear and headed straight to the gym.

You meet all sorts of characters at a gym, or so I've been told. Back in England I would go to my parents house and use our home-made gym to work out. Not an option that I have anymore, however, the moment I got into the gym, I felt like I was in a whole new world, as if I was just getting into the business all over again. I scanned for any faces that I knew, Mr Fuji, Tonga Kid, Sgt Slaughter, Don Muraco, Lou Albano, Iron Sheik, Freddie Blassie, Tito Santana, Jimmy Snuka, Bob Backlund, Gene and Pat, David Schultz, and … who is that?

I walked over to David and this mystery guy, nodding at David and heading to the heavy bag next to them.

"Mornin' Gluttony, André's been talkin' about ya."

"Oh really, Mr Schultz?" I tried to keep my breath noises to a minimum as I continued to hit the bag.

The mystery guy snickered, quickly shutting up after Schultz glared at him.

"C'mon girl, you know you can call me David. An' yeah," He stopped punching and instead leaned on the heavy bag in front of him, forcing the other guy to hold it still "Giant's been talking about him havin' a new friend and how much he likes ya."

"He's a good man, it's good to have friends in new places. Who's your pal, David?"

He smiled and slung his arm around the shorter man, "This here, this is Roddy Piper. He's like you."

I tilted my head slightly to try and make him explain further.

"You are Scottish, right?"

"I'm a quarter Scottish. Anyway, Piper, Do you speak Gaelic?"

"Uh, no, I can play the bagpipes however." his eyes lit up slightly, a sort of mad fire behind a haze of brown or maybe dark blue.

"Well, I'll see you around I guess, I've gotta warm up for later though."

I tried to block the two men out and focus on my own workout but Piper seemed to stick around a lot longer than David. He was still there when my workout ended.

"What do you want?"

"You're a quarter Scottish, you're also a giant. How do you fight? Show me." He seemed to get more energetic the more he talked.

"Right now?"

He nodded, "Right now, c'mon."

He led me to a ring that some other wrestlers were using to brush up their skills.

From the looks of the ring, it was actually used for boxing.

Roddy entered the ring the same way as most six-foot-two guys did, through the top and middle ropes. I tested the ropes, and seeing that they had just enough slack, used them to jump over the top rope.

"I've never seen a girl do that before."

"Mistake number one, I'm a woman, not a girl. Mistake number two, you expected a giant to be normal."

He scoffed out a laugh and got ready to lock up.

We locked up and Piper hit me with a knee to the stomach.

I got him back with an Irish whip into the corner, accidentally winding him by being too stiff.

"You're gonna pay for that, lass." He snarled out, already getting pissed off.

I sized him up, trying to see how high I would have to get myself in order to dropkick him to the mat.

Piper tried to hit me with a running high knee strike but I countered with a dropkick, taking us both down to the mat and slamming my face into the mat.

The mat was a lot harder than I was used to, it felt like I had rammed my head straight into a cinderblock, I started breathing heavier than before.

I rolled over and put my arms up, making an 'X' with my forearms. Piper stopped and walked over.

"You alright?"

I shook my head.

He knelt down and pulled me up into a sitting position.

I hesitated, knowing I had to take my mask off to see what was wrong but truly not wanting to. Piper managed to unbuckle the straps of my mask and winced as he saw what was underneath. My mind went slightly mad not knowing if he was wincing at the injury I had caused myself or the fact that, compared to the rest of the D.O.D, I'm truly the worst looking, beauty-wise, that is.

Hitting my mouth so hard on the canvas of the mat below us, I had managed to hit my mask in a way that the bottom edge, which curved under my chin, cut into my flesh and made me bleed.

I put my hand up to the cut and Piper quickly held my arm by the wrist and shook his head, "Don't you dare."

By the time I received medical aid, which consisted of cleaning the cut and putting a band-aid on it, Piper had given me back my mask and asked if he could work out with me sometime. Knowing that he was currently on a different show, I said sure and we had split ways.

END OF ONE'S BEGINNING IS ANOTHER'S END / JANUARY 3RD

[henrylevesconte]

not to be evil but 50 for creamsicle dude

50- In the Afterlife

(Spoilers for Reservoir Dogs, language, and descriptions of wounds/violence) 

“I’m a cop, Larry.” Freddy chokes as his vision blurs, the second bullet burning a hole through his already injured stomach. He’s dying and no matter what words Larry says to calm him, he’s fucking dead when the cops finally get to him. 

Freddy had been painting the warehouse floor red for hours as the heist members bickered over what to do with him and now they were all dead except for White and Orange. Even if the LAPD bust through the door now and arrested an injured Mister White and managed to get Freddy to a hospital in time, he couldn’t live with himself. He couldn’t live with Larry, his Larry, believing they would serve jail time together, that he was right in killing Joe Cabot and Nice Guy Eddie. His soul was too heavy for him to die a liar.

The howl the older thief emits is the most heartbroken sound Freddy has ever heard and he sinks more into the older man’s lap, deflated and defeated. He can’t see him but he feels hot tears fall on his face from above. He tries in vain to grab onto his Larry, but his arms felt like jello, like he was trying to fight in a dream, punch underwater. He would be frustrated if he could feel anything at all besides the creeping coldness.

“I’m so sorry, oh Larry I’m so sorry.” Freddy chanted, over and over as he felt something cool press against his cheek. There was something happening in the distance but he could only hear Larry as he mourned for the person he thought he had fallen so deeply in love with. Freddy couldn’t blame him, he liked Mister Orange a hell of a lot better than the sad kid turned Cop Freddy Newandyke.

The younger man tried again, this time to tell him, to tell Larry his name like Larry did for him when the took the car but there was a loud sound outside that startled both men. The last sound Freddy heard before the world went entirely black was the sounds of his colleagues finally storming the building. Too little too late for him as he was another corpse in the ill-fated warehouse. Freddy Newandyke died a free man but an unhappy one, in the arms of the only person he had ever truly loved and the only man he had ever completely betrayed.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Freddy wakes up after awhile, not sure where he is or what happened, vague images of the last scenes in the warehouse playing over in his mind as he tried to adjust his wary olive eyes. His hands quickly flew to his belly burying them under his tank top and feeling for what he was sure was two bullet holes only to find the smooth freckled untouched skin, just as it had been the morning before everything went to absolute shit. His hands slowly retracted, feeling his torso before he rubbed his eyes with balled fists until he could finally see he was laying in his brightly lit, shitty little LA apartment. The walls were the aqua blue he remembered begging his landlord to let him paint the place and ultimately won. He let out of a nervous laugh that threatened to turn into a sob if he didn’t keep himself together.

“How the hell am I here?” Freddy contemplated as he reached across his bedside table, retrieving a pack of cigarettes and a lighter. The young man pushed back his light brown hair back, noting the absence of sweat and pomade before fiddling with the lighter. “Mother fucker.” He seethed, pink lips wrapped around the cigarette as he tried desperately to get the thing to actually light.

Maybe he was in hell and this was a very minor inconvenience but part of a larger punishment? After all he deserved what was coming for him. He was a liar, a murderer, a thief. And all of it was for vanity and respect from men who saw his profession as subhuman anyways. Who was he really trying to impress; the LAPD who thought he was better off being a desk jockey and undercover fodder or the mob boss that said every slur under the sun with his brat and team of psychopaths? Freddy ended up like the psychopaths more than he was willing to admit. He ended up liking Mister White even more but he didn’t want to think about him.

The young man managed to get the lighter to do its job, enjoying the relief nicotine brought to his high strung nerves as he settled back down against his headboard. He ran a thumb over the broken lighter, looking at it a bit more now that he had calmed himself out of an existential panic. It looked so familiar but surely it wasn’t his, Freddy had a habit of misplacing every lighter he owned, always having to rely on someone else for a light.

That’s how he first really met Larry Dimmick, behind the club Joe and Eddie had invited him out to where he told the most riveting fucking story of 1992. He was sweating through his leather jacket, worried sick that he got any part of the commode story wrong and trying to take a break from being the cool dope peddler. White met him outside, cool as cool can be, in his Hawaiian shirt, half unbuttoned and inviting. Dark hair slicked back and styled like he was some sort of old Hollywood gangster.

“Hey, kid. Need a light?” Freddy swallowed down his nerves before leaning into the older man, cigarette between his lips as it takes a few tries and one curse to get Larry to light him one. The whole time, Freddy looks up at him from under his eye lashes, studying the firm and handsome face of the thief, justifying it as he would need to pick him out of a line up later. Tracing over every line and mark, and occasionally meeting whiskey brown eyes when they weren’t focused on the lighter.

“Thanks, man..” He said muffled between the cigarette and trying to keep himself cool. Larry lit himself one next before leaning up against the alleyway, one foot pressed to the bricks to keep his balance. This mystery man (at the time) was the coolest mother fucker in LA and Freddy was already screwed.

“Hell of a story you told back there. I know we can’t exchange names, but I’d like to buy you a drink....”

“Larry????” The memory faded just as it has begun as reality hit him like a ton of bricks. Freddy squirmed, falling out of bed just as quickly as he had gotten up. The cigarette nearly abandoned and burning a hole in his beige carpet. He quickly recovered it, snuffing it out in an ash tray and rolling back onto his feet. He reached the door, throwing it open only to find the Mister White standing in his kitchen, coffee mug cradled in his hands as he greeted him.

“About time you got up, kid. I thought you were gonna sleep all day.” There was no malice in his voice, which hurt the younger man even more than if Larry had lashed out at him. Instead, he was pulling out a chair for him at his wobbly little breakfast table and pouring Freddy fresh brewed coffee in his favorite mug (the one with Wolverine on it). It was domestic, just like it had been before the heist when they broke the rules time and time again to meet up in Orange’s apartment. They became fast friends and even faster lovers. White was in his bed three days after meeting in the bar and every night since. And Freddy had gotten so used to waking up to fresh coffee made by the thief who always woke up much earlier than him. This scene was pulled straight from the good times, before the failed diamond heist, the chase, the bullets...

Freddy stood in the door way like a frightened animal, unwilling to get any closer and clenching the lighter in his fist. The older man sighed deeply, annoyed already but trying a different approach to coax him forward.

“I’m not mad at you, Orange. Not now. But I need to talk to you, you at least owe me a conversation.” He did. He really owed him so much more and he hated hearing his alias. So Freddy settled into the kitchen, perching on his chair but pulling his legs up to his chest as he exchanged the lighter for the mug.

“Freddy. Freddy Newandyke.” He said, he had been so careful with his name, unlike Larry who came to him with his heart on his sleeve from the start. “Please call me that.” Larry frowned, digesting the information before shooting him a classic smile. That was the thing that killed him (well he was already dead..) the most, how accepting his Larry was.. If he still was his Larry.

“I never pictured you a Freddy but now that I know, it suits you. Kind of cute.” Larry pulled out his own chair and sat next to him, the younger man just now noticed that he was wearing his own pajamas, they were both as they were before everything went to shit. “Well Freddy, what the fuck was that all about huh?”

Freddy sighed, burning his tongue on his still too hot coffee before he began his full confession.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They talked and established three things over four pots of coffee and a few packs of cigarettes:

They were dead, Larry had shot Freddy and the LAPD had shot Larry for it. And they were in some form of purgatory, Larry was more into the idea of it being a different plane of existence while Freddy was sure they were in the biblical definition of purgatory.

Freddy was a cop, the one feeding the police information about the heist the whole time but he was remorseful about it.

They loved each other still despite what happened.

Larry held his hand, rubbing his knuckles with a calloused thumb while Freddy choked out the last of it. He was a mess, worked up and teary eyed with his free arm flailing for emphasis with every “I’m sorry, I fucked up, I don’t deserve you.”

The older man shook his head and pulled Freddy into his lap, cradling him like he was on the warehouse floor again but with less urgency. Mister White wrapped an arm around his waist and used the other to cup his cheek.

“You broke my fucking heart, kid.” Larry whispered into his temple before placing soft kisses along his hairline. Freddy shuttered at the tenderness he truly did not deserve, he clung instead to Larry for dear life as he continued to whisper to him, “But I killed you so I’d call that even.”

“I’m sorry, Larry. I’ll never not be sorry about this. I love you so much..” He whimpered before being silenced by Larry’s lips on his own. He had missed them so much after getting caught up in a whirlwind of events, it felt like he was finally home. Here in Larry Dimmick’s arms and with his lips on his. Freddy could have sworn he felt his heart beat again. It was Larry who broke it off to brush the hair from his lovers face.

“We’ve got time, and I love you so much, Freddy, I’m willing to give it another try.” Larry smiled at him like he was telling the fake commode story and Freddy’s soul felt more free than he had in ages. Maybe this was heaven after all.

[george-mackay-macfine]

Dear Diary pt. 4

Requested

Word Count: 2, 819

September 14th 2011,

Shit, My pen ran out of ink. Sorry, future self. 

As I was saying, George, Harry, Dean, Henry, Jordan and I were all in the taxi on the way to this party… Harry’s party whoever he is, When George had started to hold onto my balled up fist, His warm hand had managed to coax my fist out of its ball and twine our fingers together. 

And that was the very moment that Jordan, the bloody fuck head decided to turn around in his seat and eye up George and I’s hands, a twisted vile smirk coming to his lips.  

“Thought you two were just friends.” He smirked, looking back at Harry and Henry. “Now I understand why MacKay isn’t picking up tonight? He’s already got himself a bird.” 

“Are you always such a dick?” The words tumbled out of my mouth before I could pull them back in. As the words digested in everyone's minds an awkward silence fell in the car. Tension looming underneath ready to crack at any second.  

“Excuse me?” Now or never Y/N… 

“You heard me.” I cleared my throat a little and hoped George couldn’t tell how my grip on his hand tightened. “Are you always such a dick? So what if George and I are holding hands, have you never had a friend whose hand you could hold?” I paused waiting for him to reply, when he opened his mouth I powered on. “God, I feel sorry for you… ” Jordan opened his mouth again to rebuttal my accusation. “If you must know, George was reassuring me, I don’t want to be at this bloody party tonight, but here I am going because these guys know that you are going to need all the help you can get to even have a girl give you a double-take.” It was a part lie, he was pretty attractive until he opened his mouth.  “So next time you feel like shit-stirring, make sure the person you’re pissing off isn’t the same person whose helping you ‘get a bird.’.” I fumed.

“Now I’ve seen everything.” The taxi driver let out a little chuckle. 

“That’s my Y/N.” Dean whooped from the back seat reaching forward to grasp my shoulders. “Atta girl.” 

“Learned yer lesson yet mate?” Henry chuckled shaking his head. “Little lass isn’t here to take your shite.” 

The rest of the ride was silent. Jordan fumed silently in the front seat after his dressing down, Dean would randomly chuckle in the back seat and try to cover it with a cough, and George and I still held hands up until the moment I was jumping out of the taxi. 

“Thanks for the ride.” I waved to the driver, slipping out of the seat. 

“Thanks for the show.�� He called back, driving off once I’d shut the door. I spun around facing the group I’d arrived with. 

“Ready?” I tried to plaster a smile on my face as I looked towards the large house. People were flowing out from inside into the front yard. I could already smell the weed and my mind was thrown back to Freddie and how he was always lighting up a joint at every one of the parties I’d gone to in school. 

“C’mon.” George grabbed my hand again and pulled me behind him into the house. The place was packed, even more than any of the parties I had ever been too. 

“So I just fucked her right there in the stairwell and let me tell you bro, was nuts. Hopping around on my dick like it was a pogo stick.” I spared a look at the blonde boy talking to a group of about three other guys right by the front door. 

“This party seems super promising.” I called to the group over the pounding music, If I wasn’t mistaken it was ‘Tipsy’ playing, and if I looked to the ‘dance floor’ there would be a lot of girls dropping to the floor. George looked over his shoulder and laughed shaking his head. He used his grip on his arm to pull me into him, his arm wrapping around my shoulder. Our joined hands resting just above my boob. My eyes zeroed in on it and how close he was to actually copping a feel. 

Calm down horn dog, he’s not touching you…

“I’m with you all night babe.” He lent down and called into my ear. I couldn’t do much more than nod my head and try to take deep breaths as my heart fluttered out of my chest once again.  I tried to take deep breaths as we worked our way through the crowd, the air thick with the smell of weed, spilled alcohol, and sex. I’m just guessing this is what sex smelled like at least. 

“Plans working,” Dean smirked. I looked back at him, noticing the girls around us giving the five boys in my company, the once over before quickly looking away then back for a double-take. 

“God Dean you’re such a good guy.” I called loudly through the crowd as Dean stopped a drink being spilt on my dress. I gave him a quick wink, my hand gripping tighter onto George’s hands. “Any girl would be lucky to have you.” I looked at a girl whose head perked up at my words. “I can’t believe you’re still single.” 

“You’re my number one girl.” He chuckled shaking his head. “But I do think it’s time for me to find a drink.” He smiled slipping away from us. 

“I’ll come, I need to piss.” Jordan broke off leaving just the four of us to face the madness alone. 

“Drink?” I nodded my head at Henry. “Y/N looks like she needs one.”

“Try two,” I called back tucking myself into George more as a guy passed by us eyes focused purely on my cleavage. “Maybe three.” Henry took off shaking his head in laughter, stopping every now and then to greet this person or that person. “He’s popular.” I whispered above the music to Harry who nodded his head. We walked into the slightly emptier, but still overcrowded. 

“Never drink the punch,” Henry called over his shoulder. “That’s where everyone puts their dregs of drink they don’t want, it’s never safe.” 

“Don’t touch the punch.” I repeated. “Got it.” George walked us towards the lest populated corner of the kitchen. 

“Sit up here Y/N.” His hand left mine for the first time we entered the house, only to grab me by the waist and lift me up onto the kitchen counter. My legs swung off the side as I pushed the skirt of my dress down to cover my legs. “Comfortable?” I nodded my head. 

“Thanks.” George smiled and jumped up beside me, arm wrapping around my shoulders again. I felt my cheeks flush. 

“You okay Y/N?” I looked up to Harry and Henry were now standing in front of us, four bottles expertly held between his fingers, Henry a mirror image. “You look a little warm.” 

“Maybe you should take your jacket off.” George pulled the leather off a little revealing more of my chest and shoulder. 

“Yeah, maybe.” I pulled the jacket off sitting it beside me. “What are those?” Harry held two of the drinks out to me. I grabbed onto both of them as Henry passed two off to George. “Cider?”

“It’s Strawberry and lime?” He studied the bottle himself. “Sugar get’s your drunker quicker.” He shrugged his shoulder. “Or so Julie was telling me?”

“Whose Julie then?” George smirked. 

“The girl who recommended the cider mate.” Harry chuckled turning he looked over his shoulder, the three of us looked as well finding where he was looking, a pretty redhead was standing at the other end of the kitchen watching us. 

“She’s fit,” Henry concluded. I tuned out their conversation pulling the bottle to my lips, head tips back and a rush of bubbly cider filled my mouth. It was delicious. I could see how people got drunk on this easily. “How is it?” It tasted like lolly water. 

If you keep drinking Y/N maybe you’ll forget how pathetic you are falling for a guy who is so clearly out of your god damn league and you don’t even believe in leagues. 

“Y/N?” 

“Huh?”

“It must be good then.” George cackled, his body shaking mine as his arm pulled me tighter against him. “If it made Y/N stay quiet for more than five minutes.”

Don’t enjoy this too much Y/N, he’s just making appearances for his next party. He’ll probably tell girls your his sister…  It’s just to show girls they’re nice guys. 

“There you guys are.” Jordan and Dean reappeared at the entrance to the kitchen. They had two girls with them. “C’mon they’re starting the games.” 

“Oh, joy, party games,” I mumbled as I slipped off the kitchen counter grabbing my jacket. Just as a girl came up to us, she ran a finger through her hair, pushing it off her shoulder. 

“George? Are you coming?” Henry stopped by the counter. 

“I’ll catch up.” He smirked, not taking his eyes off the girl.

“April,” She giggled furiously. 

“I’m George.”

He doesn’t like you Y/N, you have to be okay with that. 

“C’mon Y/N.” Harry grabbed my hand this time pulling me behind him into the living room. A group of people were crowded around the wooden table, I could hear the spinning of a bottle on the hardtop surface. 

“We’re going to change things up this time, it’s no longer just spin the bottle, it’s spin the bottle ten minutes in heaven.” A loud cheer went up through the group as Harry stood us in front of the table. He stood behind me, protectively keeping people from bumping into me as they got rowdier. “Now, who’s next?” He looked around before his eyes stopped on me. “You,” He pushed the bottle across the table to me. I could feel my face flush over as I momentarily looked back at Harry. I reached out and grabbed the old beer bottle, sparing a glance at the people around the table. “You have to spin it, sweetheart.” The guy called again. 

“No shit,” I called back before reaching across to the middle of the table. Not only was my cleavage exposed, but I was pretty sure my ass was pressing right against Harry’s crutch. I spun the bottle quickly standing back upright, Harry’s left hand fell onto my hip. 

The bottle spun ten times in total before it stopped. It stopped between the guy who was standing beside us, smelling suspiciously of weed, or Harry. 

“It’s on me,” Harry called arm wrapping around my waist. “Closet” 

“Upstairs. Use a bedroom.” The boy smirked. People whooped as we walked away from the table. Harry leading me up the stairs by the hand. I turned to look back at the crowd as we ascended and through the small doorway into the kitchen I saw George with the girl he’d left me for. Except now they weren’t just talking. His tongue was down her throat. 

Just like all the other guys. 

“Come on.” Harry tugged me gently pulling me up the final part of the stairs. My mind was a blur as he pulled us into another room, the door shutting behind him, blocking out the noise of the party into a dim roar.

What had George done to me? 

He’s like my drug, whenever I get his attention I get really happy for a while. But when I don’t it’s like the world is falling apart and I don’t know what to do anymore. 

“You’ve got feelings for him don’t you?” I didn’t have to look at Harry to know he was judging me. 

“That obvious?” I walked over to the bed and sat down. I wonder how many people have had sex on this bed tonight?

“I’ve seen the look before.” 

“God, I’m pathetic.” 

“Why because you have feelings for someone?”

“No, because I have feelings for someone so out of my league.” I lent my elbows on my knees. “I don’t look like the girls he goes for Harry. They’re all skinny, they’re all blonde… I’m neither of those things.” You’re fat with brown hair Y/N. The complete opposite of what he goes for. 

“You’re right.” My head snapped up to Harry. 

“I’m what?”

“You’re right.” He walked over to me and sat beside me on the bed. “You’re nothing like those girls.” Even Harry can see how wrong I was for George. “You’re smart, you’re funny, and unlike them Y/N you’re beautiful without even trying.”

“I thought I told you to stop flirting with me, Harry.”

“This isn’t flirting.” He grabbed onto my hand. “This is me, telling you that you are worth more than any of those girls, and MacKay is an idiot if he doesn’t see it… Who knows, maybe one day he might but why are you wasting your time waiting around for a maybe?” 

“I don’t know how not too.” I opened my mouth waiting for the reason to tumble out but instead, all I could do was stutter. 

“Try.”

“He was there for me when I needed him, Harry… He was the only one there for me.” 

“Do you really have feelings for him?” 

“I think so.” 

“You have to tell him.” Harry stood up and tried to pull me up. 

“No Harry I can’t.” I pulled him back, this started a game of tug of war, my arm being the rope. “Harry stop it.”

“Don’t be a baby Y/N.” He pulled me, My butt left the bed, but I dug my feet in and managed to counteract his pull, causing both of us to fall back onto the bed. Harry fell half on top of me. “Y/N.” He shook his head, pushing some of the hair out of my eyes. “If you don’t tell him, you’ll never be able to breathe.” 

“I can’t do that.” I moved my head a little closer to his.  I looked from his eyes down to his lips. The sudden feeling of want washing over me. 

“Y/N, you’ll regret it.” He whispered back, his head also moving closer to mine. 

“I’m not sure I would.” The door swung open breaking us apart. Harry rolled off me and I sat up, making sure my skirt covered everything. 

“Y/N?” I squinted, looking at the figure. “Harry.” They walked closer. 

Holy fuck it was George. 

“I… I gotta go…” I yelled getting up and rushing out of the room. 

“Y/N, come back,” George yelled over the crowd. I pushed my way out through the crowd and down the stairs. I didn’t look back, I couldn’t. I felt the cider bubbling in my stomach threatening to come out. I made it out of the house, across the road and partway down the street before it did. When I was finished being sick I sat in the gutter, hot tears rolling from my eyes. I couldn’t tell you if it was from being sick, or the fact that George saw Harry and me. 

“Y/N.” I wiped the tears from my cheeks on the back of my hand. “Y/N, it’s Henry.” I stood up from the gutter to see him walking down the road, on the other side to me. “Y/N it’s not safe for you out here alone.” 

“I’m fine,” I called back sinking back onto the ground. 

“Harry and George are looking for you,” 

“I just want to go home.” 

“You don’t want to go back to the party?” I shook my head. “Alright,” He sat beside me. 

“What are you doing?”

“My ma would kill me if I left a girl alone.” 

“You don’t have to stay with me, you can go back to the party.”

“It’s fine Y/N. I don’t mind.”

“Aren't their girls you want to pull?” Henry shook his head. 

“No, They’re not really my type?”

“Party girls, aren’t your type?”

“No, girls aren’t my type.” 

“You’re gay?” 

“As gay as you like George.”

"That’s a lot,” I whispered. “Do they know?” 

“George does, Jordan…”

“Don’t blame you.” I giggled despite myself. “I won’t tell anyone if you don't want that, not that there's anything to tell…”

“It’s fine Y/N.” He pulled his jacket off and slipped it around my shoulders. "Harry has your jacket.” I nodded my head. “Wanna tell me what happened?” 

“I nearly kissed Harry, and George saw…” 

“Oh.”

“Yeah.” I buried my head in my hands. “I’m such an idiot.”

“He knows it was for the game… He’s not angry. He’s actually glad it was Harry and no one else…”

“He doesn't hate me?”

“I think it’s physically impossible to hate you Y/N.” 

[liliah39]

What about an imagine that takes place in like 1973 and the band goes to a pub and there’s a band preforming, but the drummer is a girl and everyone else in the band is a boy. And Roger is amazed by her because she drums as good as him. Then after the show he goes up to her and starts talking to her and asks for her number. And she says yes

In Sync- ( Roger Taylor X Reader Oneshot )

Word Count: 2K+

Warnings: None!!

~~~~~~~~~~

November 1973:

You sat in the back of your band Illusion’s van, clutching your drum sticks with your other band mates, John the guitarist (because every band needs a John), Ian the bassist, and Steve the singer as the four of you made your setlist for the night. You were pretty much finished, only needed to add in two or three more songs. 

“So we’re definitely doing White Room by Cream, right?” You said. Being the only girl you had to be assertive. 

“We always do, Y/N” Ian laughed. The four of them treated you like a sister; always making you feel right at home. 

“I know, but it’s one of my best songs. I’m just making sure.” You said, punching him playfully in the arm. 

“How about a Beatles song?” Steve asked. 

“Aren’t we more Zeppelin than the Beatles, Steve?” 

“Yeah, but we’re already doing three Zeppelin songs, and who doesn’t like the Beatles?” 

“Good point,” John added. “So ‘Come Together’ it is?” the other three of you gave him an approving nod. 

“We really should have one more, guys.” Ian said, counting your setlist. 

“Say, what about that song the drummer sings from that new band Queen that just put out their first album? You know, the one that plays over at Imperial all the time?” You said. 

“Oh yeah, the one Freddie’s in?” Steve asked. Him and Freddie used to work together at the airport. 

“Yeah. What about Modern Times Rock and Roll? Their drummer has a pretty good voice. He always sings a song at their concerts.” 

“Would you sing it, Y/N?” Steve asked. 

“Oh, well, I-” you stuttered. You wanted to sing it, but were nervous to ask the others. Typically Steve was the only one who sang. Illusion wasn’t like Queen. 

“You can if you want, Love.” 

“Really?” Your face lit up. 

“ ‘Course. Might be nice for a change.” He smiled. 

“Thanks,” You said hugging him. “Would you all mind running through it once? Just so we make sure we’re all together and so I can practice singing?”

They all nodded in approval as you started to unload your gear into the presently empty bar, ready to prep for your upcoming gig. 

~~~~~ 

Roger and the boys of Queen had just finished a set at Imperial College. Though it started out as a smaller gig, with the release of their new album their popularity began to grow, and little by little their followers seemed to grow as well. After packing up the van, Brian suggested walking to the bar down the street to celebrate their performance, to which the other three members happily complied. 

When they arrived outside of the bar, the band performing inside was booming- the bass and drum beats soaring over the loud hum of the crowd. 

“They’re good, aren’t they?” John smiled as they waited in line to enter the bar. 

“Yeah, I mean from what we can hear they sound great,” Brian laughed. “Well they’ve drawn quite a crowd, haven’t they? They can’t be that bad with all these people here.” 

Freddie was eager to find out who was performing; budging to the front of the line to see the name of the band on the poster next to the door. “Guys!” he smiled, running back to his mates. “My old friend Steve is the lead singer of that band! We used to work together at the airport! We’re not waiting in this stupid line. After all, we’re her royal majesty.” He flourished as he dragged the other three to the front of the line, earning lots of eye rolls from his band mates and spectators alike. Freddie always got what he wanted, so through a little convincing and proving he really did know Steve, the bouncer reluctantly let the four of them enter the bar.

They walked in looking to the stage at the other side of the bar, smiling to see the band doing an amazing rendition of Immigrant Song by Led Zeppelin, the four of them starting to sing along to one of their favourite songs. 

Roger noted that the drummer was superb- playing perfectly on the beat yet adding the perfect flourishes when there was space too, yet when he looked to the stage he couldn’t see anyone. 

How odd, he thought. Whoever they are, they must be short. Yet no later did he brush away the thought and join his mates at the bar. 

~~~~~

After about fifteen minutes or so, the four of you went into ‘Come Together” upping the tempo and drum beat a bit to make it more of a glam rock type song, earning high praise from the crowd as they seemed to like your version of such a well known song. You ended the song going directly into a drum solo, the crowd hooting and hollering as you played difficult beats. 

As Roger listened to your incomparable solo, he couldn’t help but let his curiosity get the best of him and have to get up to see who was sitting behind the kit. When he walked to the front right of the crowd, he was shocked to see you, a girl, doing some of the best drumming he’d ever seen. In all honesty, you were the first person he’d heard play as good as him in a very long time. He was in awe. On top of it, he couldn’t help but notice how gorgeous you were as a brad of sweat dripped down your forehead; a look of intense focus on your face as you banged out a shockingly fast rhythm, coming to the end of your solo. He never found someone so attractive in his life. 

By the end of your solo Steve had set up a microphone for you so you could sing for Modern Times Rock N’ Roll. 

This is it, it’s now or never.

When you finished your solo and the crowd applauded you were dying of heat, the object of singing a song while playing right now seemed virtually impossible. As you downed your water bottle you took off your t-shirt, leaving you in a sports bra as the audience whistled at your audacity.

“Ready boys?” 

They looked back at you with a nod. 

“A-one, two, a-one, two, three four!” 

And with that you started Modern Times Rock ‘N Roll, coming in to sing for the first time in front of a crowd, the feeling making you liberated and play harder than you ever had before. 

~~~~~

Roger was completely speechless. First you take your shirt off, and then you play a Queen song. But not just any Queen song. 

His song. 

His mates came up behind him, Freddie grabbing his shoulder. “There you are, Rog! We were looking all over for you!”

“They’re playing our song!” John smiled. 

“I know, I know.” Roger laughed, trying to hide that he was equally, if not more excited about it than they were. 

“She’s pretty good, isn’t she, Rog?” Brian asked. 

“She’s great.” 

As you finished the song, the crowd erupted in applause, you standing up and taking a bow as Steve took the microphone back. 

“Thank you everyone! That was featuring our amazing drummer, Y/N Y/L/N, give it up for her one more time!” The crowd roared. “That was Modern Times Rock ‘N Roll by a new band called Queen. They’re a friend of mine so go check them out. Oh! And while I stood to the side as Y/N took vocals for a song, I noticed a good friend of mine standing over there to the right, ladies and gentlemen Mr. Freddie Mercury and his mates of Queen!” The crowd cheered again as the four of them laughed and waved to the people around them. 

You felt the blood rush to your face in embarrassment. Not only did you just play in the presence of one of the best drummers you’d ever heard, you played his own song in front of him. Does it get more embarrassing?

“Alright loves, we’re going to take a fifteen minute break, thank you!” Steve shouted as the crowd cheered. 

As you stepped back stage, wiping the sweat from your face, you decided to just put your leather jacket on, you were over the shirt. 

“Come on, Y/N! Steve is going to introduce us to Queen!” Ian yelled. 

“Oh that’s alright,” you laughed. “I’m just going to get a drink at the bar.”

“Don’t you want to meet them?” John asked. 

“Well, yeah, but I just sang and played one of their songs. Little awkward if you ask me.” And plus, you thought. Roger Taylor is incredibly attractive. After singing his song I don’t know how I’d even be able to speak to him right now. 

And so, as the guys hurried out of the room in the back you emerged into the crowd and found a seat at the bar, ordering a beer. As you waited, a hand was placed on your shoulder, making you jump in shock. 

“Oh, sorry, Love. Didn’t mean to scare you.” 

It was him. 

It was Roger. Fucking. Taylor. 

“Oh, no, uh. You’re fine.” You laughed nervously. 

“I’m Roger. Roger Taylor.” He said sticking his hand out to you as he grabbed the stool next to you. 

I know.

You shook his hand as you tried to calm yourself down. 

You can do this, Y/N. You can speak to him. 

“I’m Y/N.” You smiled. 

“You’re an amazing drummer, Love. I mean really, like wow. I was in shock.”

You laughed at his candidacy. “Well I guess I could say the same thing,” you giggled. 

“Yeah, about that. You played my song.” He smiled. 

Oh god, here we go. Time to hear how terrible I did from the person who wrote it. 

You nodded; completely unable to come up with words. 

“It was great. I mean, you were great. Really, I haven’t heard someone drum like I do in a long time. You’re really great, Y/N.”

“Well thank you,” you blushed. 

“No shirt still?”

You looked down, immediately wishing you had your shirt on, yet knowing that if it was any other person in front of you you’d be completely comfortable in just your bra. You were nervous in front of him, desperately wanting to make a good impression because of your attraction to him, even though you usually controlled every conversation you were a part of because of your reigning confidence. Ultimately, in your moment of brief internal panic, you decided it’d just be best to be yourself in front of him, no need to change for a man. 

“Yeah, shirts are over rated.” You smiled. 

“Must be a drummer thing,” he winked, opening his gold embroidered flower patterned jacket to reveal his bare skin. “Listen, Love, I have to be honest with you. Besides the whole drumming thing, I think you’re incredibly attractive, I mean look at you. You’re absolutely gorgeous. I was wondering if I could get your number, maybe we could go out some time, get a drink somewhere?” 

“Really?” You said, shocked. Roger Taylor wants to go out with me?

“Really.” He smiled. 

“Well then, of course.” You scribbled your name and number on a napkin with a heart as he put it in his pocket. 

The two of you continued talking for a while you noticed Ian waving you back to finish your set. 

“Oh, Roger, I’ve loved talking to you, but I’ve gotta go finish playing. I’ll see you later?” 

“Yeah, and just look to the front right; I’ll stay watching the whole time.” he smiled. 

“Say, we’ll be done in about 45 minutes, would you like to get a drink when we’re done, Rog?” 

“I’d love to.” He smiled. “Now go knock ‘em dead.” He said, leaving a peck on your cheek.

“Could you hold my jacket?” 

“ ‘Course.” He said as he watched you take it off and hand it to him. “Break a leg, Love. I’ll see you after.” 

~~~~~

A/N: This is adorable thank you for reading!!! for some reason it wont let me do tags rn, ill do them tomorrow

Taglist: @yourlocalmusicalprostitute , @bismillahnah , @deakysmisfire , @queer-heart-attack , @everything-you-dont-wanna-be , @mercurycrowley , @ikbenplant , @xcdelilahxc , @chekovs-davy-jones-wig , @laedymoon , @manicpixydreamgirl , @jaylikesguavass , @brianskindofcheese , @anincurablefangirl ,  @jennyggggrrr , @delightfullynlove , @johndeaconshands , @jd-johndeacon-or-jackdaniels ,

[rae-gar-targaryen]

of retro-tech and rhapsody [p.p.]

A/N: This is my entry for @starksparker Summer Writing Challenge! Thank you for letting me do this, Kaylee! 

Takes place while Peter and the gang are still at school. I’m ignoring “Endgame” and “Far From Home,” so it’s spoiler-free! Includes references to Peter’s Civil War-era scrounging. 

Prompt: “For someone so smart, you’re an idiot.” 

Pairing: Peter Parker x fem!Reader (I kept her vague enough, sans references to a few hobbies and musical taste).

Warnings: Language. Jumpy plot? So much awkward cotton-candy fluff you may just rot your teeth. Sorry. 

Word Count: 3.4k of baked good simile, teenage awkwardness, and musical snobbery. 

Summary: Dumpster diving wasn’t a good look for most boys. Most of them. But then again, most boys didn’t make you a good, old-fashioned loverboy mixtape.  

**NOT MY GIF!** 

–

Okay, so. Here’s the deal: You most certainly were not the type to gossip. You really weren’t. The clique-ish chatter of your classmates and passersby floating through your ears like the twittering of so many small birds, muffled like cotton balls in your ears. 

It’s not that you were a bad listener. Nah. You actually considered yourself a good listener. You just weren’t that interested in the conversational equivalent of small-dick-energy. Small minds discuss people, so they say… 

Besides, rumors were pernicious. Especially those perpetrated by bored teenagers, the girls’ perfectly-filed nails so much like demon’s talons, the boys’ whispering and snickering like the hissing of snakes. All attempting to perforate your uninterested sensibilities. 

Whatever. Whatever the topic was today, you just weren’t interested. Until– 

“I heard Flash threw him in. What other reason would he smell like a dumpster?”

“Maybe he just doesn’t, ya know, shower?” 

“No way. Flash can’t toss him in alone. He’d need help. Besides, I think he went in there, like, voluntarily.”

“He doesn’t smell. You just saw him coming out of the alley.” 

“Ew. You mean to tell me that Peter Parker is a– a dumpster-diver?” 

The mention of Peter’s name caught your interest. Peter was a tech-type with a seemingly contradictory creative streak. You had often wondered where he had picked up the old school gadgets he sometimes had tucked under his arm as he hurried to and from the science lab or the A.V. room, Ned Leeds in tow, talking a mile a minute about – some thing or another. 

You were almost certain the term “motor mouth” was coined with Peter in mind.  

You turned your head to hear who was talking, only to be met with a table full of Flash Thompson’s hangers-on. 

Of course. Flash Thomson’s weird hate-boner for Peter Parker was well known among your class. And probably the teachers, too. 

You didn’t understand. What was to dislike about Peter Parker? He was perfectly sweet, sweetly smart, smartly perfect. 

Okay, maybe you had a little thing for Peter Parker. But only just a little. You had, what? Two classes together?

Besides, you were too busy for boys. It’s 2k19, for God’s sake. You had soccer, studying for the SATs, you helped out your parents. You liked to read. It’s not that you weren’t interested in the pursuit of a certain sweet, stuttering boy with coffee curls and eyes flecked with gold. 

Dear god. When did you become a poet? Scratch that. When did you become a terrible poet?? Be still your heart, Keats. 

Rolling your eyes, you smacked your empty lunch tray for good measure as you got up, catching the attention of some of Flash’s “Mob.” 

“Maybe you should chill on being trash who trash-talks? You sure you don’t belong in the dumpster?” You replied primly. Not chancing a glance back, or waiting for a snarky response, you turned, dropping your tray in the designated area and walked out. 

Mic drop, assholes.

—

Peter stared after you from his corner table, basking in the glory of your grand exit. He didn’t hear what you had said. But judging by the disbelieving stares that followed you, it must’ve been good. Flash’s hangers-on looked after you, a few then turning their attention to Peter’s table before going back to their lunch, mouths agape.

Um, what? 

Peter had no clue what that could have been about. Whatever it was, he was almost certain he didn’t want to know. Unless– unless it had to do with you. Then he almost certainly did want to know. 

He would crawl over glass if it meant learning more about you. 

Okay, maybe not glass. He did get beat up on the regular, and even super-fast healing and super strength didn’t mean that the sensations that came from small-time ass kickings was enjoyable. 

Mr. Stark told him that finding the girl he liked would hit him like, what was it? Oh, yeah …

“A punch to the gut, Pete. You’ll never see it coming. Not even with that little, uhhhh, tingly little super-sense you’ve got goin’ on.” 

Punch to the gut indeed. Just the sight of you was enough to make Peter stammer, even moreso than usual. Sweat a bit more than usual. Especially today, what with his latest acquisition burning a proverbial hole in his backpack. 

His morning excursion had yielded a perfectly good Walkman. Who would toss that in the dumpster? A little fine-tuning and it should be good to go. He’d been acquiring retro stereo equipment for some time. A little trip to the junk store for a blank cassette, and he was home free. 

His heart sang at the cleverness of his plan. Burning you an old-school mixtape seemed like the perfect way to tell you how he felt. How he’d been feeling since ninth grade bio, making a gradual mental catalogue of your band shirts. Of the books you thumbed through while waiting for class to start. 

Yeah, he knew exactly what was going on that tape. 

“Hey, loser.” Peter whipped his head at the dead-pan to the left, meeting MJ’s shrewd eyes and perpetually downturned mouth from her corner of the table. “What’s up with your stupid moon-face?”

“Uh, what?”

“If you stared any harder at her, you may burn a hole.” 

“I don’t — who? Stared at who?” Peter panicked. Surely MJ couldn’t know. If MJ knew, did that mean he was being obvious? Oh, crap. 

“For someone so smart, you’re an idiot. Lucky for you, I’m not. Just say something. She’s super nice, you know. She’d talk to you.” 

“Thanks, MJ. I think?” Peter’s brow furrowed at the minor insult, which stung less considering it was wrapped in the warm velvet of MJ’s hyper-observant encouragement. 

Just talk to her. Like it was so easy. 

If he played his cards right, he’d let the tape do the talking. Peter loved it when a plan came together. Take down the bad guys, take down his homework, take down this special project, get the girl. 

— 

“Decisions, decisions, all of them wrong,” you hummed to yourself, perusing the sweet offerings through the bakery’s glass dessert case.

You stood under the ambient lighting in your favorite bakery. Post-practice you didn’t smell the best, but you’d put in work. You deserved a treat. RIP to the people behind you in line. 

“I hear the chocolate chip cookies here are the best.” 

You whipped around, only to be met with the cocoa-honey eyes of none other than Peter Parker. A true confectionary masterpiece. Suddenly, the items behind the case seemed less sweet by comparison. And–wait, was Peter Parker actually talking to you about something that wasn’t last night’s reading?

“Um, thanks for the tip!” You cursed yourself for your filler-word of choice. Um, um, um. You cursed yourself again for wearing your sweaty practice gear and grass-stained socks. Of all the times to run into him. “Yeah– I’m more of a lemon bar kinda girl.”  

Shit. Why did you say that? 

Peter just looked at you. 

“Oh.” 

Did he look— crestfallen? Did you offend Peter Parker? Shit, shit.

“What I mean is, I’ll go with your recommendation, but the cookies here are huge. Split it with me?” You offered.

Peter’s head whipped back up, his eyes cola swirls of excitement. His mouth split into a toothy grin.

Dear God. What you wouldn’t given to be the cause of that smile forever. 

Was Peter always literal sunshine? 

You paid for the cookie, breaking off a half and offering him the half in the bag. As you sank your teeth into a mouth full of cookie, the melted chocolate flooding your tongue, you asked, albeit not too politely, given that your mouth was full–  

“So, what are you doing over on this side of town? Don’t you usually go the other way?”

Peter blinked.

Nice one. Now he’s gonna think you’re a creep that, like, watches him leave? God fucking–

“Oh, just running an errand for Mr. Stark. I saw you through the window and thought I’d come say hey!” Peter chirped.

Ah. The Stark Internship. Of course. Peter probably thought you were the biggest idiot for forgetting. Everyone knew he had the Internship after school. Mercifully, Peter either didn’t notice your slight, or he didn’t care.

“What are you listening to?” Peter gestured at the earbuds poking out of the collar of your practice jersey. 

“Bohemian Rhapsody,” you shrugged. “Wanna listen?”

Peter nodded, vehemently. You slipped the buds from the bottom of your shirt, handing one to Peter, the opening piano keys trilling into your ears. Your eyes met Peter’s, and you felt your mouth form a little tip-lipped grin.  

The two of you stayed that way for the duration of the song, munching on your respective cookie halves. You wondered if there had ever been a more perfect moment in all of history? Sure, this was a little rom-com for anyone’s taste, but, hey. 

You would crawl over glass if it meant you got to listen to Queen while basking in the literal warmth of Peter Parker for eternity. 

The song ended, breaking your Freddie Mercury and chocolate-induced haze. Shit. The Stark errand. 

You decided to cut the string and let Peter escape this little interaction. You tugged the earbuds, effectively popping the one out of Peter’s ear. 

“I’m so sorry, Peter. I’ll let you get back to it! Don’t want to keep Iron Man waiting,” you said. “Thanks for the tip, by the way. This cookie is, like, magic.” 

Peter nodded, shuffling his feet a bit. He gave you a wave and bit out a truncated goodbye, shoving his mouth full of the remainder of the cookie as he exited the shop. 

What in the literal fuck. No, not literal. Don’t go there. Did you just share baked goods and an actual conversation with Peter? Did you share headphones with Peter? What is happening today?

If your heart beat any faster, it’d be doing the Roger Taylor drum solo to “Keep Yourself Alive.” If your blood could sing, it would be thrumming a trilled little thrill of your sweet, sugary little interlude.

—

Peter blew back into his apartment like a hurricane, buzzing with whatever that was. 

What had compelled him to speak up? He saw you standing there, looking a literal glowing angel in school colors and pulled-back hair, complete with beautiful post-exercise flush. And he just— he had to say something, MJ’s words ringing in his head. “She’d talk to you.” 

Peter pulled the refurbished Walkman out of his bag, along with a packet of cassette tapes colored neon pink. 

If he was giving you a little retro tech present, he was going full-stop, the neon piece of plastic screaming 1980s, screaming you. 

Fitting the blank cassette into the stereo, he hit “Record.” 

The following day, Peter hustled into school at a time that was, in his humble opinion, way, way too early, meeting Ned in the hallway. 

“Okay, guy in the chair. Did you figure out which locker is hers?” Peter asked.” 

“You know I did.” Ned pressed a slip of paper into Peter’s palm. 

Glancing quickly at the little shred, Peter stuffed it into his back pocket and jogged down the hallway, jimmying the lock on the locker in question until it gave way under his super-strength. As if it would catch fire at any second, Peter tossed the Walkman and tape into the locker, slamming the door shut and taking off down the hallway as quickly as he could, Ned at his heels.

“Smooth, Spider-boy. Smooth,” Ned laughed. 

—

Peter was going to die. 

Days went by. Literal days. Those pressed on into a week, and then two. Peter had heard nothing since dropping the tape in your locker. God, this was a mistake. He’s made a huge mistake. A huge, tiny mistake.

His self-doubt crept in like so many webs, suffocating his better sensibilities. Not that he’d tangled himself in his own webs before. Come on! 

—Okay, it was ONE TIME. And he’d had time to think about his carelessness while waiting for the webs to dissolve. 

But this was different. He was drowning in his uncertainty. Maybe he’d misread that day at the bakery. Maybe you were just being nice. Peter knew he wasn’t entitled to your attention after once interaction. He wasn’t that much of a hyper-masculine dick. 

Oh, shit. 

—

“Yo!” 

You turned, eyes landing on your teammate, Jessica Porter. 

“Jess. What’s up?”

“Hey, I found this in my locker a while ago. I meant to give it to you sooner, but, well–” Jess reached into her bag, pulling out a rectangular hunk of plastic affixed to 1980s-esque headphones. “Your name’s on the sticky note, and on the tape inside. I don’t know how it got to me, but it’s clearly meant for you.”

You took the Walkman from her hands, turning it over. No “From” on the sticky note to indicate who had gifted you this little vintage gem. Affixed to the back with some Scotch tape was the plastic holder for the cassette, the jacket within scrawled with writing that you just couldn’t place. 

“Uh, thanks, Jess. See you at practice?” You walked away, your brow furrowed, your mind moving at a mile a minute. 

After school, you slumped onto your bed. You popped the tape off the back of the Walkman, freeing the case.

As you slipped the jacket out of the case, you hit “Play” on the Walkman, the keyed-up opening to Jukebox the Ghost’s “Everybody’s Lonely” meeting your ears. 

You perused the scrawled writing on the jacket– it was a track list. Next to each track was a little  handwritten note jammed into each line. 

1. “Everybody’s Lonely”– Jukebox the Ghost. Because every song is about love. And because you like Queen.

2. “Radio Gaga”– Queen. Ditto. 

Your heart stopped. No, seriously, should you call 911? This couldn’t be – could it? Did Peter Parker make you an actual mixtape?? Had you hit your head today at practice, or something? The stars in your eyes and little bursts like so many Pop Rocks in your belly were so like happy little interpretations of your veritable disbelief. 

You had shared a Queen song and a sweet moment with Peter two weeks ago. Since then? Radio silence. But now? Radio Ga Ga. This had to be from him, right? Your eyes continued down the list. 

6. “Hong Kong Garden”– Siouxsie and the Banshees. I’d reap the field of rice and reeds if it meant an afternoon with you. 

7. “Humbug Mountain Song” – Fruit Bats. My heart thrums like a shitty hipster banjo solo.

8. “Left Hand Free” – Alt J. You looked so cute in your tour shirt Sophomore year. 

9. “Cover Your Tracks” – A Boy and His Kite. Heart, cover your tracks, the blood that you spill will wash what you lack.

The last song on the list, replete with a mix of everything from Bowie to Fleet Foxes, was—

14. “Given the Chance”��� The Kite String Tangle. The note?

“Given the chance, I’d go for it. One step at a time. Will you give me a chance?”

It was then you knew. Peter Parker was pure happiness. A zipping burst of citrus on your tongue with a zing that shot straight to your heart. A powdered sugar kiss-and-touch. Syrupy warmth enveloping your spirits.  This gesture was beyond— well, anything. Your heart felt like so many folded paper birds, fluttering and faint, but solidified with purpose. 

You had words for Peter Parker. 

—

The next day you strode into school with purpose, only to be met with coffee curls awaiting you. Pacing at your locker was none other than Peter Parker. And he looked — panicked?? 

Before you could even say a word, Peter opened his mouth, a jumble of words flying out faster than his lips could form the words. 

“I am so, so sorry. I messed up…”

I messed up. 

Your heart plummeted. Was the tape for someone else? Before you could press, Peter continued, “I– I made you a mixtape. Y-you know, like, an actual mixtape. On a cassette and everything. The only problem is–” He hung his head. “I put it in your locker. Well, not your locker, obviously– I thought it was your locker. 1127? I put it in 1172.” He let out a huff of air at his rushed confession, refusing to meet your eyes, cheeks burning.  “I’m sorry.” 

You blinked. 

“You’re sorry?!” 

Peter looked up at you, quickly, flinching, expecting a tongue-lashing after your outburst. To his surprise, you just laughed. He blinked. Had he misread this so badly?

“Jessica Porter has locker 1172,” you explained. Peter continued staring at you, blankly. What did Jessica Porter have to do with anything?

“Jessica Porter and I have chem together. We’re on the soccer team. She’s super cool,” You explained. Peter remained unmoving, desperate to hear the point and why his apparent faux-paus was so funny to you. 

“Don’t leave me in suspense, here. Because, I’m like.. really, REALLY sorry,” Peter pressed. 

“The point is,” you slung your bag forward and over your shoulder, ripping the zipper open and withdrawing the Walkman. Neon pink cassette tape visible like a flash through the little plastic window. “I got your mix. Jess gave it to me. She thought it was cute, by the way. Sure you didn’t really mean to give it to her?” you teased.  

“O-oh. Cool, uh, but did you think it was cute?”

“Peter,” you sighed. “For someone so smart, you’re an idiot–” 

“MJ said the same thing…” 

“– It wasn’t cute, Peter.” 

His eyes got even wider if possible, the sting of rejection starting to set in– could he possibly have misread the situation so badly? What about your little date? Was it a date? Listening to Queen and eating cookies that day at the bakery? How had MJ steered him so wrong?

 He had done so well on the reading comprehension portion of his PSAT. But reading paragraphs about the migratory pattern of geese was very, very different from reading between the lines when it came to girls his own age. Any girls, really– he had to stop himself. Maybe they were right, maybe he was an idiot– 

“Peter, this is MORE than cute. This is the sweetest, nicest thing anyone has ever done for me. I love it. Your taste in music, you… you get me,” you explained, pressing your hand into Peter’s, pressing the point. He could feel the touch, tingly sensations running through his palm, up his arm, and he swore, straight into his heart. 

Peter changed a glance at you through his lashes, lips splitting into a toothy, Peter Parker grin. 

You hoped he’d only smile at you like that forever. He truly was like the sun, bright and warming the coldest parts of you with the greatest of ease. Filling any hollowness with golden light. His bright eyes sparkled, permanently etched within the golden hour and you swore you forgot how to breathe. 

“Really?”

“I’d give you a chance, Pete. As many as you wanted.”  

Before he could respond, you leaned forward, quickly pressing your lips to Peter’s. It lasted a brief second – a dusting of sugar atop something crisp, sweet and citrusy– before pulling back. Sweet, but all too short, panic splicing through your moment of confectionery bliss that was kissing Peter Parker. 

“Sorry, sorry, Peter. I’m sorry. Was that too forward?? I–”  

You were cut off by Peter, lips firmly meeting yours. Peter’s hands cupped your cheeks, thumbs tracing over the peaks of your cheekbones. Any trace of awkwardness gone, Peter slid his hands from your cheeks — back, back, back— to run his fingers through the hair at the nape of your neck, resting there. The tilt of his lips followed yours, sweet cinnamon heat – persistently welcome and welcomingly persistent. The golden hour indeed. 

Breathless– you were breathless. Could Peter Parker kiss like this always? You wished he would. Look at you, smile at you, kiss you – always. But, um, not with anyone else. Decidedly not. Just you, you hoped. The ebbs and flows of your personhood, the sweet contrast of your personalities, like a discord of so many notes coming together into one cohesive piece. This….

This? This was what rhapsody was. You were just sure of it.

—

So that’s it. I do have a complete playlist made for this story, if anyone is interested, I can send you the link.

Tagging: @starksparker @nappingtopknot @ayeayecaptaingally @andallthatmishigas @ymeradonnadx @hey-its-grey

Special s/o to @tigerlilynoh!

[shieldsecretbase]

All The Right Moves - peter parker x stark!reader

[part seven] - leave the oldies

words: 841

summary: After deciding you needed to get away from your home town and everything you know, you move in with your uncle. Who also happened to be Tony Stark. Through him, you meet Peter Parker and a blooming friendship forms. Will your life be better with the Avengers? Or will the danger be too much for you?

warning: swearing I think?

A/N: sorry I haven’t posted in a hot minute! a girl has been going through it. but here it issss. I'm sorry it’s short and probably not the best but I hope you guys enjoy and hopefully I’ll be back with a regular posting schedule 

~

When you had texted Thor saying you ‘hurt’ Peter you hadn’t expected him to literally come down and throw Peter over his shoulder. You and Bucky had burst out laughing, trying to contain it when Peter glared at you. He looked like a puppy and that caused you to burst you laughing, hiding behind Bucky as Peter tried to shoot a web at you. What an unfair advantage. 

 “Hey, don’t you get that sticky shit on us,” Bucky yelled at the kid, his laugh making him seem less menacing. 

 “Thor, let him down, he’s okay,” you chuckled, a grin plastered on your face as you saw Thor nod and literally drop Peter onto the mat. Once again you and Bucky were doubled over as you burst into a fit of laughter. Oh, you two were going to be dangerous. 

 Groaning, Peter rubbed the back of his head. “That was unnecessary,” he muttered, standing up and cracking his back. Glaring at you and Bucky, the two of you looked away innocently. “Thanks so much for the help guys.”

“Oh your absolutely welcome,” you giggled and walked over to Peter. Patting his back you smirked. “I didn’t hurt you too much did I?”

“Just my dignity,” Peter muttered but was quick to bounce back. “Impressive fighting skills.”

With a simple shrug, you grabbed your water. “What can I say, Uncle Tony always wanted me to be prepared.”

“Prepared enough to crush a spider,” Bucky commented, earning a punch in the side from Nat. You simply rolled your eyes and shook your head.

“Now now children, Peter was just taken off guard. But even if he did know, it would only prolong the inevitable. I would have still crushed him,” you noted, a smirk on your lips as you took another sip of water.

“Hey!” Peter shouted, narrowing his eyes. “I could win if I want.”

“Oh don’t make me laugh,” Bucky retorted, smirk still on his face. 

 “I’ll kick your ass Barnes, leave the kids alone,” Nat threatened with narrowed eyes.

“How did your guy's workout turn into arguing about the kids?” Sam asked as he walked into the gym. “I mean hell, Steve is the only one doing anything and he’s laughing on the treadmill.”

You shook your head, the small smile never leaving your lips. How were the strongest people alive this ridiculous? Hell, you can’t remember the last time you’ve laughed this much and since the incident that caused you to move, you haven’t been genuinely happy until then. 

 “But hey YN, are you don’t have any powers or anything?” Steve asked, slowing his run on the treadmill to a walk to cool down. 

 You thought about it for a moment but only shook your head and sat on a bench. “Pretty sure I’m one hundred percent powerless.”

“Damn and you were able to beat someone with inhuman strength. That doesn’t happen very often,” Nat spoke, warming up with Bucky for their sparing match.

“I was taking it easy on her, I didn’t want to hurt her,” Peter tried to cover up, his dignity already hurting enough.

Shrugging, you walked over to Peter. “It doesn’t matter now. Come on, let’s go wash up and leave the oldies to their workout.”

“Hey!” you heard some of them shout, you and Peter laughing as you left the room before any of them could come after you. 

 “Movie at my place?” Peter asked, walking up the steps to get to the main floor. 

 “Thought you’d never ask. Just let me go shower and change. You can hang in my room until I’m done.” Peter only nodded, a blush forming as he followed her upstairs and sat on her bed. 

 Once you were done and the two of you made it to Peter’s, you laid on his bed, laptop resting on your stomach as you idly scrolled through Netflix to find a movie. Peter was in the shower, cleaning up from their workout. You couldn’t help but recount your walk over. Something was off and you had felt a pair of eyes on you the entire walk. Pushing it to the side, you clicked on a movie and paused it as the water stopped and Peter emerged in sweatpants and a t-shirt moments later. 

 “Ned and MJ are coming over later to watch a movie and study for that test with us,” you called as a greeting, pushing the laptop away. 

 “If they’re coming over can we take a nap?” Peter asked, grabbing his phone and crawling into bed beside you.

Closing the laptop, you placed it on the bedside table. “That sounds like a way better plan.”

Peter chuckled and wrapped the blanket around them. Settling into the bed, your phone went off as a text came in. Frowning, you grabbed it and read the text message. Your heart stopped for a moment and you froze. 

“Everything okay?” Peter asked, lookin over at you worriedly. 

 “Huh? Yeah yeah, I’m good.” Turning your phone off, you ignored the message and curled up beside Peter. 

tag list: @holland-underoos @fangirlingisajob @viarogers @cubedtriangle @captainstartights @maraudingmaraudeers @hawkxyes @witchyandkin @cautiouscalum @izabellah816 @vinerlover @polishpotterhead @can-i-fangirl-yet @adorluvr @queenmxndes @freddies-fried-chicken @isabella-bby @poorguys-head @sweetboitom @melymarvelgeek @princessizzy36 @marvelouslymedicated @imsuperawkward @marigoldstudy @leo-is-ma-man @multifandomwriter121 @nowheredreamer @gayguysayswhat @stuckonpeterparker @lala-florez @fandoms-all-around-catiel @jesus-jagiya @peter-spider-parker-man @theresultofcaffiene @nerdypartytrashpsychic @luvelyjjk @queenofthearchitect @savedbystark @psycho-on-thephone @samthesnoop @littlelunaticfringe @highfantasymath @marvelousmarauderstrash @rock-androllmadonna @deanismypie0876 @rororo06 @quicksilverandspiderlokipokidoki 

[freddiesaysalright]

Peace Like A River Part 1

A Gwilym Lee x Reader Story

Summary: Reader is a stand up comic with a pretty dark past. She has a three new lights in her life: her daughter, Violet; her anonymous correspondent, Dear Friend; and Gwilym Lee. 

Word Count: 3.4K

Tag List: @psychosupernatural @someone-get-a-medic @bensrhapsody @deakyclicks If you’d like to be added, let me know!

A/N: Sorry this took so long! I had like the snippet of an idea for this and then needed more for a plot, but I think I’ve finally got it together lol. Hope y’all like it!

Part I here we go!!!

Grinning, you read over the letter once more from backstage. His words in that graceful, loopy handwriting warmed you from your heart to your toes. You sighed contentedly, stuffed the paper into your back pocket for luck, and waited for your cue.

“Ladies and gentlemen, please welcome to the stage, Y/N Y/L/N!” the host cried. 

You shook out the last of your nerves and walked out on the stage, waving and grinning at the huge crowd that stood and applauded for you. You had never done a show for an audience this large and it was both intimidating and exhilarating. 

“Thank you!” you said, as you waited for them to stop cheering. “Thank you. Thank you all for coming. Really, I appreciate it because whenever I have to go out and do things, I think about killing myself.”

A nervous titter went through the crowd and you smiled again.

“Seriously, I do. I’ll think about killing myself over nothing. Like, the other day, I was in the car on my way home from the store and my sister called me and asked me to stop by her place and help her and her husband move furniture. And I actually thought ‘If I crashed my car right now and died, I wouldn’t have to go move any fucking furniture.’”

They laughed.

“It’s crazy, I know, but I casually think about it any time I’m even minorly inconvenienced. But what stops me from doing it - like, my next line of thought - is something equally meaningless. Like, in that scenario with my sister, the thing that held me back was like, I thought ‘But fuck, Bohemian Rhapsody is coming out in like two months and I really wanna see that.’”

A couple cheers came through the laughter and you smiled.

“Oh, we got some Queen fans in here tonight?” you said. 

More cheers.

“Yeah, cheer, clap, fuck yeah!”

A swell of shouts and whistles went through the crowd and you joined them.

“Fuck yeah, y’all were raised right,” you said when it settled down. “Queen is a great band. Just four sexy dudes making banger after banger. They’re legitimately my favorite band. I’m not gonna lie, they really got me through some shit, but we’ll come back to my trauma later.”

You paused for a small bit of laughter.

“Now normally, I don’t like when comedians talk about Queen. And by that, I mean, I don’t like it when comedians talk about Freddie Mercury,” you said. “And it’s not for some pretentious reason like they’re not real fans or something. It’s literally just that when people joke about Freddie Mercury, they joke about the same two things - his teeth and his sexuality - two extremely fucking boring things to joke about.”

You took a sip of water.

“Not only are they boring, they’re just rude. Like, these are things this man was born with and couldn’t change about himself - he had no control over that. What he did have control over - the fucking ridiculous lyrics of Under Pressure.”

A giggle went through them. You smiled.

“I’m serious. Have any of you ever looked up the lyrics to that song? Most of it doesn’t really bother me, it’s just those weird scat-like shit Freddie does between verses. Like, they have these great, meaningful lines followed by Freddie going ‘Um, bah, bah, bay.’ What the fuck?”

They laughed.

“That shit is in the official lyrics of that legendary song and I think about that every goddamn day. That and fucking ‘dee, dah, day - ok!’ Shit like that is how you know these dudes were on drugs. One of those guys came up with that, pitched it to four other people - if not more - and they all went ‘fuckin genius’ and bam! Under Pressure is one of the greatest hits of all time.”

They laughed harder.

“I guess I’m not as disturbed by that as I am by the fact that the people ate it up like they did. It’s one thing for those guys to say it’s genius, but then for us as the public to say it as well just fucks me up. The first time I heard that song I was like ‘what the cinnamon toast fuck am I listening to?’ Shit was weird.”

You took another drink as they laughed. 

“But honestly, I don’t understand why people go for Freddie’s sexuality when there are clearly much more roastable things to talk about. I don’t care how rich and famous he was, if you’re a straight white guy making fun of gay brown guy for being either or both of those things, you’re punching down, dude, and that’s not comedy, that’s just being an asshole.”

For that, they applauded. You continued on through your set, and this audience was great for you. They were responsive and you held their attention throughout. You were almost ready to close the show.

“I always like to end my shows with the most important person in my life,” you said. “I’ve talked about her already tonight, and she’s my daughter, Violet.”

The tech guys put a picture of her up on the projector behind you. You beamed at it. 

“That’s her. She’s three years old and she’s my everything. She’s the reason I get on stage and in front of cameras. She’s the real reason I don’t crash my car to get out of moving furniture.”

With one final laugh, you bid them goodnight. You took a little bow at the roar of applause and smiled widely. You said a few more thank yous before the spotlight dimmed and you walked off stage to the sound of cheering and clapping. It never ceased to amaze you how far you had come. 

Someone took the mic for you as your assistant approached. She was a recent hire, and something you initially resisted. But now that your name and brand had grown, you really did need the help. Her name was Stacy, and she was incredibly efficient. You liked her, as did Violet, which sold you on hiring her.

“Great show,” she said with a smile. “Vi is asleep in the green room. We’ve got a couple VIP guests for you to meet before we take you both back to the hotel.”

“Alright, lead the way,” you replied.

You followed her to another room backstage where you saw a group of men. Most of them had their back to you, but one face, you recognized. Gwilym Lee, who you considered a friend, even though you hadn’t spoken in a while.

Before you had really thrown yourself into standup, you did a bit of acting. You and Gwilym shot a pilot of a sitcom that unfortunately never aired, but while filming, you had become really close. You even felt like he was flirting with you a few times, but back then you were nowhere near ready to start a new relationship, so you’d kept things strictly platonic. Nowadays, you mostly liked each others pictures on Instagram as your main form of communication. But life was busy for both of you. You were on tour and he had gone on to films.

You started to smile but then froze when the man next to Gwilym turned his head. You grabbed Stacy’s arm harshly.

“Holy shit is that Brian May?” you wondered.

She chuckled. “Yeah! The VIP guests are Queen and the cast of Bohemian Rhapsody.”

“Shut the fuck up!” you cried. “Really?!”

“Yep,” she assured you. “Go on in and say hello.”

Your stomach dropped with nerves. Again, you shook yourself free of them and donned your stage personality. Slipping into that mask was where you were most comfortable. While you talked about the things you had endured in your comedy, there it was lighthearted, and you did not have to face it head on. You could throw a joke out and dodge it. 

“Well, hello!” you said brightly as you entered the room. 

They all turned eyes on you and smiled as you were introduced. Brian May and Roger Taylor were without a doubt the most thrilling to shake hands with, but Rami Malek, Joe Mazzello, and Ben Hardy were also exciting. When it came time to shake hands with Gwilym, you offered a warm, friendly smile. 

“It’s great to see you again,” you said. “It’s been two years or so now?”

“Just about,” he replied. “You were wonderful.”

“Thank you!”

“Gwil was the one who convinced us to come tonight,” Joe explained. “He said you were hilarious on set when you filmed before.”

“That’s sweet,” you replied. “It is a shame that show never took off, it was a good one.”

“I certainly loved it,” Gwilym said. 

You chatted with them for a bit. They all were calming to be around. Brian and Roger were complimentary of your bit about Under Pressure, which eased some of your nerves about the set. Even though you were, you didn’t feel like you were putting on a show for them. In minutes, it felt like they were your friends. 

The door opened shortly after and in walked Stacy, hand in hand with your very sleepy daughter. She clutched her stuffed dog close to her chest as she ran right to you and crawled into you lap. You wrapped your arms around her and held her close, kissing the top of her head. She eyed the guests warily. 

“What are you doing awake, sweetie?” you asked gently, stroking her hair. 

“She woke up for a little while,” Stacy explained. “I tried to get her back down but all she wanted was Mommy.”

You smiled. “That’s okay. You can have Mommy whenever you want her.”

She snuggled into your chest, turning her face away from the strangers. 

“You don’t want to say hello?” you wondered, and she shook her head. You looked at the guys. “Sorry. She’s kinda shy.”

“That’s alright,” said Brian. 

“She’s grown up,” Gwilym said. “Last time I saw her, she was just learning to walk.”

“Oh, yeah,” you remembered. “She actually walked right into you during a scene.”

You both chuckled at the memory.  

“The director was almost mad, but she was so cute,” he continued. 

He knelt down in front of you and gently touched her arm. She turned her face to just barely peek at him. 

“Hi, Violet,” he said sweetly, smiling at her. “It’s been a while.”

Her brow furrowed. 

“You were still a little baby,” you explained to her. “But you’ve met Gwilym before.”

She relaxed and looked between you and him. 

“Daddy?” she questioned. 

You stiffened and cleared your throat uncomfortably. Then shook your head. 

“No, baby,” you told her. “No Daddy.”

She pouted at you and then hid her face again. You looked apologetically at Gwilym, who shrugged it off. He started to get up, but hesitated to pick something up off the ground. It was your letter that had been in your pocket. He held it out to you. 

“Is this yours?” he asked. 

You quickly took it, your face flushing with embarrassment. Even though there was no way he knew what it was, you still felt really shy about the whole situation. 

“Yeah, thanks,” you said, not meeting his eyes as you stuffed it back into your pocket. 

“A letter?” he questioned. 

“Just some particularly touching fanmail,” you lied. 

“Not enough people write letters anymore in my opinion,” said Roger. 

“Why sit and write a letter when you can send a text?” Ben replied. “It’s much faster.”

“Yeah, but I sort of miss the anticipation involved in letter writing,” Brian said in agreement with his bandmate. 

You continued to visit with them as Violet slowly fell asleep again against you. For a while, you felt Gwilym’s eyes on you intensely. His expression was odd. It appeared he thought he knew something more about you. It made you shift in your seat a few times before at last, he seemed to let go of whatever question was burning in his mind. 

They visited for about another half hour before you really did need to get back to your hotel, and so did they. You said fond farewells to all of them, reassured them that you would see the movie, and then it came to Gwilym. 

“We’re in New York for a few days,” he said. “Let me know if you’d like to get coffee or something and catch up.”

“That would be great,” you replied with a smile. 

You gave him a side hug since you had Violet on your hip, sleeping soundly. Her stuffed dog slipped from her hand but Gwil caught it before it hit the ground and handed it to you. 

“Can’t have that,” he said lightly. 

“Thank you,” you returned, taking it. You looked at all of them. “Have a wonderful night, guys. It was so great chatting with you.”

They all bid you one final farewell. Gwilym was the last to leave and you shared a lingering look with him before he closed the door. You continued to stare at the spot where he disappeared, realizing now how much you had missed him these last couple years. 

“Ready to go to bed?” Stacy asked. 

With a yawn, you nodded, and she ordered an Uber to take all three of you back to the hotel you were staying in. It wasn’t far from the venue, since you would be doing three shows there this week before moving on Boston. Stacy eyed you with an odd smirk as you stared out the car window. Finally, you looked at her. 

“What is it?” you asked, a bit snappier than you intended. 

“You and Gwilym Lee seemed to have a little something going on,” she said with a sly smirk. 

You rolled your eyes. “We just knew each other a couple years ago. Besides, you know I’m...involved with someone.”

“Ah, right,” she said, rolling her eyes now. “The ever elusive Dear Friend.”

“Hey, if anyone’s elusive, it’s me,” you said. “I was the one who made the arrangement what it is.”

“Y/N, you write letters to some mystery man,” she replied. “He could be anyone. Gwilym Lee is a real person and right in front of you.” 

“Dear Friend is a real person,” you argued. “I’ve just never met him.”

“And yet you’re convinced he’s your soulmate,” she returned. “I just don’t get it. How can you fall in love with someone through paper?”

“You don’t understand,” you said. “You’ve never read his letters. He’s so...eloquent and smart. And I can be myself with him. I can share my deepest thoughts and desires without any fear of judgement. He does so with me as well. It’s a real connection. The strongest I’ve ever felt with anyone.”

“You don’t know anything real about each other,” she insisted. “Not your names, not your jobs, where you live-”

“Those things don’t matter,” you cut across her. “The real stuff is deeper than that. And that’s where Dear Friend and I meet.”

“Whatever,” she said dismissively, weary of having this discussion yet again. “You’ve got your family reunion on your last day in town. I suggest you find a man in person to go with you. If you show up without someone again, I think your mother will actually lose her mind.”

You considered this. She was right, your mother absolutely hounded you about your romantic life since Violet was born. You told her you weren’t ready since your marriage had left you so scarred. You didn’t tell her about Dear Friend, though, since you knew she could never understand something like that. Plus, you had only been corresponding for a year.  

“I think Gwilym would go with you,” Stacy said, nudging you with her elbow. 

“I was thinking more along the lines of hiring some actor to be my boyfriend,” you replied. “I don’t want to expose Gwilym to my family. He’s been nothing but nice to me.”

She chuckled. “At least take him up on the coffee. I really think you should explore your options in case this Dear Friend isn’t who he says he is.”

“I will take him up on the coffee,” you assured her. “But it’s not a date. In the meantime, find some poor struggling actor to go with me and get my mother off my back.”

“I’m on it,” she assured you, already looking through her phone to get started. 

You reached the hotel at last. You took Violet to your room, bidding Stacy goodnight as she went to her room next door. You tucked your daughter into bed and kissed her on the forehead before heading over the desk. You pulled out the letter from Dear Friend that was still in your pocket and read it once more. Then you pulled out your stationery and pen to begin your reply. You were halfway through your letter when you remembered Gwilym. 

You opened your phone and pulled up his number, which you had from your days of being coworkers. You opened up a text to send to him and found yourself blanking on what to say. You had written paragraphs to Dear Friend, but when it came to asking someone to get a simple cup of coffee, you had no idea how to phrase it. It made you all the more certain Dear Friend was your person. Words came easily when talking to him. 

You went with your stage personality. You sent a casual, “Is tomorrow too soon for that coffee?” with a silly emoji. Then you returned to your letter. Gwilym texted back almost right away and suggested meeting around nine in the morning, which you agreed to. Then you finished writing your letter and sealed it in an envelope for Stacy to send off in the morning. 

The letters always took some time. One thing you knew about Dear Friend was that he was from the UK. The PO box you sent the letters to was in London, but you could also tell from the way he spelled things. You often teased each other about these differences. So of course, they took longer to send and receive. But, you agreed with Brian May that the anticipation of getting one was one of the most exciting parts of the experience. 

Another benefit of him being across the pond meant that your opportunities to meet were few. In fact, you hadn’t had one since you started writing. It was a bit of a relief. You knew you loved Dear Friend, but keeping him at arm’s (well, ocean’s) length felt safest. And after your brutal marriage to Violet’s father, Henry, being safe was of top priority for you. And yet, the desire to be with Dear Friend grew daily. It just terrified you to face the reality of it. 

The next morning, you dropped the letter and Violet off with Stacy while you went to meet up with Gwilym. You went to a local coffee shop and ordered. You paid, and he protested, but you insisted, and assured him that he could get it next time. You grabbed a table and started talking. You told him you were still living in Los Angeles and that you were mostly doing shows out in California. You tended to avoid New York, since Henry and his friends and family were still there and he was still an NYPD officer. You couldn’t avoid it on tour, though, nor your family reunion. You told Gwilym about the reunion, but not the part about you ex-husband. 

“You’re hiring someone?” he asked, baffled. “A stranger?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Some guy that was rejected from Broadway or something. I’ll pay him, and we’ll come up with a story for my mother, and then the next time I see her I’ll tell her how we tragically broke up.”

“That’s ridiculous,” he said with a laugh. “I’ll do it for you.”

You blinked. “You really don’t have to-”

“I don’t mind,” he said. “We’re friends. I know meeting strange men is difficult for you.”

Gwilym knew that Henry had abused you because you talked about it in your sets. You never got into gruesome detail, although you had confessed a few things to Dear Friend. You talked on stage about not dating because of what you had been through. It was extremely kind of Gwilym to offer this, and you weren’t sure how you could thank him. Your comedian mask slipped on again. 

“I’m not sure I can afford your rates, Mr. Lee,” you teased. 

“How much was my coffee?” he returned. 

“Five dollars,” you told him. 

“Well, it turns out, for friends, I offer a discounted price of five dollars,” he joked. “So, consider it payment for the coffee.”

Your brow furrowed. “Are you sure about this?”

“Really, it’s fine,” he reassured you. “It’s just one day.”

“I can’t tell you how grateful I am,” you said, seriously. 

He raised a curious eyebrow at your tone. 

“I mean, it’s just one of the nicest things,” you continued, blushing once again under his gaze. “You’re a very generous person, Gwilym.”

“Perhaps,” he said. “Or you’re just still getting used to kindness.”

You smiled, unwilling to go any deeper. 

“Let’s chalk it up to a combination of both,” you said lightly. 

You finished your coffees and headed to the door. He had to go to an interview and you were going to take Violet around the city since the weather was nice. As you hugged goodbye, you smiled up at him. 

“See you Saturday?” you asked. 

“Saturday,” he affirmed.