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#and i have freddie filtered so i don’t even see or keep up with that content
leafs-lover · 10 months
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y/n and Freddie in btpdg is one of my favorite couples to ready about. have you thought of doing a blurb or something where Freddie comes home from a roadie and wakes y/n up in a ✨spicy✨ way? like, maybe when ollie was a baby because sleep is precious when they have 4 little monsters.
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Series Masterlist
This is set before YN and Fred have had conversations about getting together but it’s painfully obvious they both want it so like figure it out already? You also don’t have to have read the entire fic to make sense of it, this is a stand alone piece
Warnings: swearing, smut (fingering and p in v), a slight dominance link, I didn’t proofread or edit so if you see any spelling/ grammar mistakes keep them to yourself
Fred’s least favourite thing was leaving.
Ollie learned what the duffle bag meant and would whine every time he saw it, you of course knew what it meant and would also whine about it. Only difference was he could reason with you. He’d always promise you a date once he returned and you’d always prop yourself on your tippy toes, wrap your arms around his neck and pull his face down, growling “why wait?”
Oliver was walking and talking, a handful with every step, leave him alone for more than a minute and every toy was thrown across the living room, or he would have the pantry open tossing boxes onto the floor. He kept you on your toes and you both felt uneasy leaving him even if only for a few minutes. So you would wait, but that doesn’t mean you’d make it easy on him. You would constantly send pictures, snapchats, answering his FaceTimes while wearing practically nothing. You knew exactly what you were doing and it drove him crazy.
Typically the Pens would fly the team back early in the morning after a road trip and since giving Fred a key you tended to wake up and find the living room full of laughter, Oliver wearing only a diaper as he terrorized the couch cushions.
This particular road trip ended in Philly and it was a very quick flight home. The team ventured back to Pittsburgh after the game and Fred set out for your apartment. He made good time, it was near midnight and the roads were empty.
Not a single light was on, not even the blue glow from a TV to alert him to your presence. It’s quiet, but not an eery quiet, it’s peaceful.
Fred drops his bag by the door and sets his keys in the bowl. His jacket is left on the rack and he starts to unbutton his dress shirt as he walks down the dark hallway. He stops at Oliver’s room and half expects the crib to be empty meaning a night with a sprawling toddler who kicks him seventeen times in the ribcage, but as the light from the hall filters in Fred catches a glimpse of the red locks on his tiny body. Like every night he spends with Oliver, Fred walks over to the side of the crib and takes a second to just watch his son. There is something about watching a baby sleep perfectly and peacefully that makes his heart swell - he doesn’t know how he went this long without it. He gently whispers goodnight and places a kiss to his cheek, then leaves the door as he found it - open a crack - before venturing toward you.
There is a copy of The Whispers cracked open on the mattress beside you, a cup of cold herbal tea lingers on the bedside table. The blankets are down low past your hips and one leg is kicked out - evidence you got hot at some point - your perky nipples protrude through the thin white cotton shirt you wore to sleep. The desire for baby number two throbs in his pants, if only that topic wouldn’t send you running Fred could bring it up.
He throws his pants over a chair, folds his shirt and places it on the seat and slips out of his socks. He grabs your “bookmark” from the night stand and lets his finger trace over the worn edges for a moment. It’s not an actual bookmark, but a picture taken moments after Oliver was born. Fred knew you were using a picture, but Oliver was almost one before he knew what the picture was, and that was the moment he knew there was a chance you’d come back to him. Because it’s not a picture of just you and Oliver, it’s one of the three of you. Sweat clings in your hairline, trapping baby hairs to your forehead, both of you have puffy red eyes from crying with the biggest smiles imaginable plastered to your faces, only thing is Fred is staring at Oliver and you are looking up at him. Even with the emotions of that moment, he can see there is more to the look you are giving him. You’re not staring at the father of your son, you are staring at the man you love. Fred is so happy he noticed that glimmer in your eyes and decided to wait you out, because he catches you looking at him like that countless times a day (even though you won’t admit it anytime soon). Fred smiles, like he does every time he sees this photo, and sets it inside the book, then curls up beside you.
He knows he should let you sleep, you have a very energetic toddler that loves to keep you on your toes, but that shirt is just a little to see-through and a little too tight and you sent one too many messages.
He starts slow.
His hand on your stomach and lips on your jaw. It’s soft, a kiss that goes unnoticed.
His calloused hand ventures up, finding one of those perfect breasts you spent a week tormenting him with and he begins to massage it, tweaking and tugging at your nipple. A sleepy sigh catches in your throat but Fred can tell it’s going to take more.
His touch is light as his hand drops, under the elastic band of his boxers you decided to sleep in. The pressure starts off gentle, slow circles being pressed against your heat. His lips trail along your jaw, over to the sweet spot on your neck. Instead of kissing he starts to suck, harder and harder, letting his teeth sink in. When he doesn’t earn the response he desperately seeks, two fingers toy at your entrance, coating themselves in your arousal.
“Hi baby,” Fred murmurs when you finally start to stir.
“Hi,” you mumble back, involuntarily tilting your head to the side, giving him more space to work with. “I missed you.”
“I know you did.” His fingers slip inside as far as they can go. Your eyes dart open.
“Shit baby.” Your legs kick out and back arches as he thrusts his digits back inside.
“You knew what you were doing with all those pictures you sent.” He chastises, thrusting his fingers back inside once again. “Knew what it was doing to me.”
“Of course I did.” Your voice is becoming strangled, the pressure starting to build.
“Then what did you expect?”
Fred shoves his boxers down your thighs and you feel his cock, rock hard and leaking excitement all over your hip. With a few more thrusts to get you wet and ready, Fred replaces his fingers with his member, and you both moan in unison.
“This was your plan all along, wasn’t it?” He probes, shunting you up the bed with one deep thrust. “What you wanted huh?” He punctuates with another thrust.
“I always want you.” You whimper, knowing he is waiting for a response.
Your fingers tremble when they feel the hard muscles of his back. You always loved his body and he’s always loved yours. Beads of sweat cascade down your neck and Fred smiles, his second favourite thing to lick.
“Only me right?”
He doesn’t mean it as a question, at least not in this moment. There will be a time for the hard questions, a conversation where he will make you admit to what you’ve been feeling (because he has zero doubt and knows you just need a nudge). This question is more about dominance, a reminder, because him practically prodding your cervix doesn’t do that.
“As if there could be anyone else.”
Fred hooks your left leg over his hip and finally brings his lips to yours. His mustache tickles your upper lip and his tongue works its way into your mouth. It’s sloppy, frantic, full of heat. Every time he presses his tongue in further your nails scratch along his back. And after every firm and direct thrust hits that spot deep inside, your moan gets caught in his mouth.
“You look so good with my cock inside you.” Fred grunts, punctuating his words with another thrust.
“You feel so good inside me.”
“Gonna feel even better with my cum dripping out of you.” Fred smirks as one hand snakes between your bodies and rubs at your clit. It suddenly becomes very difficult to concentrate on what he is saying. You can see his lips moving and can only imagine the filth spewing out.
You writhe beneath him as your pleasure reaches it’s peak. Your nails dig deep into the thickest part of his bicep and with one more punctuated thurst you come undone, warmth spilling around his cock. Fred’s cocky grin only grows even as his thrusts are sloppy and shallow, and just as your body relaxes Fred spills everything deep inside your cunt.
It takes a bit for your hearts to steady, it always does, Fred’s version of a “quickie” often leaves you feeling like you ran 5k.
Fred looks down at you, brown eyes clouded with lust and passion and leans back in, replacing the heated and heavy kisses with a soft one, full of warmth.
“Elskede.” He smiles sweetly, his cock soft inside you.
“Hmm.”
“Tease me like that again and I won’t wake you up as nicely next time.”
“No idea what you’re talking about,” you shrug him off, a hint of insolence in your voice. His cock twitches. You being bratty always did turn him on.
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clanwarrior-tumbly · 2 years
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Hello hello hello! A bit of a strange request but here goes nothin'. Could I have Glamrock Freddy, Montgomery Gator, and Michael Afton witnessing their Fem! Selective Mute! S/O flip her lid and start screaming at a guest (or in Michael's case a random jerk) who's being rude and talking bad about the boys?
Glamrock Freddy
He’s aware that some guests talk about how “dangerous” the older Freddy models were. But it hurts being compared to them. They were heavily flawed, and supposedly “possessed”. 
Why would anyone think he would be the same? Just because he was more alive and was capable of thought?
Although he never expresses these worries to you openly, you saw how upset he got when you both overheard some rude guests talking about him.
“I don’t like that stomach hatch thing. Remember that clown Freddy who had one and used it to kidnap kids?”
“Yeah, I saw the inside when he was bringing out the cake. It’s huge. My daughter ran to him and I had to yank her back. I don’t trust that robot near her. Like..what if he snatches her when I’m not looking?”
“You know the company will deny it ever happened even if you stood right there and it was caught on camera.”
“I wish they just scrapped him alongside Bonnie and Foxy. Those names are giving this place a bad rep-”
Hearing them talking so much shit finally pushed you to the limit as you stormed over. Freddy had no idea what you were gonna do, but was stunned as you snapped at them for insulting him.
The bear rarely heard you ever talk, which you attributed to selective mutism. He understood what that meant quickly and didn’t mind it at all.
So for you to break your silence to defend him made him feel warm inside (though he worries you’ll strain your voice).
Once they leave and apologize, you skip back to Freddy with a smile, perfectly calm. “They won’t bother you anymore.”
His own smile is huge and his mechanical heart is full <3
Montgomery Gator
Monty’s not afraid to get snappy with the guests--especially kids who whine about where Bonnie is and loudly complain that they liked the rabbit better.
He’s literally that “stop fucking crying bitch waa waa waa” audio from tiktok (but obviously internally since his programming won’t allow profanity).
Occasionally he hears parents mutter about how aggressive he is and keeping their kids away from him at all costs. If it didn’t violate protocol and risk him being scrapped, he’d have them by the throats for sure.
But he overhears one parent saying they’ll start a petition to get him decommissioned, which genuinely worries him.
Though you save the day and let loose on them, having no profanity filter as you basically tell them to gtfo and see if corporate cares about their shitty petition.
Monty, who witnesses all of this going down, gawks before smiling as he realizes his doll was willing to speak up in his defense.
He knew of your selective mutism (which makes for an interesting dynamic with the loud and brash gator), though to see you do this for him makes him grin.
Michael Afton
His face was known all around town, rumors about his tragic mistakes as a teenager always springing up.
People everywhere did double-takes when they see him out in public with you before whispering to each other about the “Afton boy” or “brother-killer”.
As if Michael didn’t already have nightmares from that incident and hated comparisons to his father...it got harder and harder to ignore them.
Especially when one jerk storms up to you two and tries coaxing you away from him.
“C’mon, sweetie. You don’t wanna be around people like him.”
This filled you with such unbridled rage, but you just force a smile and approach them, which breaks Michael’s heart at first....
Until you stomp on their shoe and tell them very loudly to fuck off and never speak to your boyfriend like that ever again.
Your voice startles even him, though he’s so grateful you’re willing to stand up for him and chase the stranger off.
It certainly won’t be the last time that happens, but he’s happy you’ll be by his side no matter what bullshit people say.
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catflowerqueen · 1 year
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OK, lots of interesting lore this episode. So apparently whenever Sun and Moon dimension hop they are not just going to dimensions where it is Minecraft—they're going to like a normal dimension and then just putting on a Minecraft filter. So what they see is Minecraft… which kind of makes me wonder what those dimensions actually look like, and if they’re using a filter to protect themselves or if they're doing that to protect the viewers (assuming they aren’t just doing it because it makes things more amusing). As machines, they can comprehend probably a lot more stuff than we humans can—but at the same time they might have a harder time interpreting some of it. But they might also be able to like rework their framework so things don't fry them in the same way it would for a human. Presumably.
Anyways. As far as the actual main content of the video goes, it looks like they did indeed go with possibility #2 from my previous post (except with a worrying lack of Lunar’s inclusion). It’s good to see Monty being such a supportive friend! And as weird as it is to see Moon being called the optimist out of the two brothers—especially considering some extremely pessimistic things he’s said about himself and how generally unhappy and self-deprecating he is a lot of the time—it actually does make quite a bit of sense the way Monty explains it.
And it was nice that Moon actually acknowledge how much Lunar helps him keep a grip on his sanity. Hearing that probably made Lunar very happy—as well as a bit sad that Moon suffers so much, I’m sure. That’s how I felt hearing that, at least. And it’s also it’s really, really sweet that the reason Moon wants Lunar to get his own body now is so that Lunar won’t have to go through what he—and to a lesser extent, Sun—went through when he and Sun shared a body. He wants Lunar to be free, and to be able to have fun… even though he knows what it could cost him. Also—it’s starting to seem like there really might be a worry about Lunar getting corrupted by staying in Moon’s body if even Moon is concerned, and his explanation of the problem is a lot more compelling than what Eclipse was talking about. Though I still don’t think it is quite as desperate a situation as Moon is currently worrying about.
As far as that bit about the contingencies go… I mean, as hard as that is to hear, Moon doesn’t really have a leg to stand on considering he’s done the same thing multiple times—for both himself and for Monty. It’s nice that he still wants to acknowledge the friendship sentiment though! And it is both depressing and gratifying that Moon acknowledges how the others don’t interact with him at all (beyond when they want something from him—like Freddy recently coming to him for help).
I hope he can meet back up with Sun soon, and that Sun helps him get to the computer to get those repairs done and then sits him down with blankets, bolts, and oil, and talks him through what he was actually trying to say before Moon ran off. Because in addition to him and Moon needing to communicate better, Moon also desperately, desperately needs to rest because he has literally been running himself ragged these past few months.
And I do seriously wonder what the Creator was thinking in installing that kill code. Because based on what he just told Sun, I really don’t think it makes any sense for that to be there unless it was supposed to be some sort of defense mechanism that just got seriously messed up upon installation.
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Security Breach: Tainted Madness Part 4
It has been a few days since the kiss with Jenna and Scotty hasn’t stopped smiling. Ness and Vanessa both were so happy to see that he Finally got a “girlfriend”.
But that would change very much…
Tonight he was out patrolling near Roxy’s Raceway. While Vanessa stayed near Rockstar Row, Scotty was put into a situation when Ness and Weasel-face became more desperate to find Gregory. Roxanne hadn’t been replying to him through his Faz-watch, which, like Freddy and Gregory, Roxy gave to him so she could reach him anytime (as long as she has power anyway). This was after Monty pinned Scotty to a wall after the guard stopped Roxy from getting Gregory under Afton’s control and hurt his arm.
A Loud Ringing Sound came up behind Scotty, he turned around to see Ness, skipping up to him.
“No luck Tonight, Ness?” He asked humorously. Ness giggled, her voice filters making it more creepy than it actually was. “I’m actually here to ask you where Roxy was. She seemed more Predatory tonight.”
“She isn’t replying to me,” Scotty replied, “That’s not like her at all, she took the job of ‘keeping me out’ you gave her very seriously. She would be with me right now.” Ness nodded and started thinking, “Where could she be then?” She asked. Scotty shrugged, “she isn’t in her greenroom crying or looking in her mirror again?”, Ness shook her head.
Suddenly, the sound of a kart crashing came from the Raceway, both Scotty and Ness spun their heads to the sound and exchanged glances, Scotty started to run, while Ness stood there for a moment before following him. When they got to the Raceway. Scotty went onto the track and found the spot where the crash was heard, “looks like Gregory needs a driving lesson.” He joked. He noticed two animatronic prints a few meters away from the kart marks. He recognized them instantly. They were Roxy’s.
“Oh Nononono…Shit.” Scotty panicked, he then found the kart down in the under layer of the Raceway, along with… “No…” Scotty climbed down during the shelves under the track, and Ness followed. Sure enough, they were animatronic parts under and around the kart. Roxy’s parts.
“FUCK.” Scotty and Ness synchronized. There was no trace of Roxy herself, and the hundreds of parts here told them that she was hit very bad. “What did you do, kid?” Scotty asked, but he was interrupted by Ness calling his name. “Look,” she pointed at the now destroyed door, “I think they went this way.” They followed the path to a storage room on fire. Scotty gasped, because standing outside of the entrance was Roxy, her back to them, looking very much Shattered. “WHERE ARE YOU?” she cried.
“Roxy?” Scotty yelled, and the Wolf looked around in surprise, “Scotty, is that you?” She answered, “Yeah… yeah, it’s me.” He smiled. “WHERE ARE YOU?”, she asked, his smile went away. “What do you~?”. She turned around.
Ness yelped, Roxy had her eyes gone, “THAT BRAT TOOK MY EYES.” She exclaimed. Scotty stood there processing it all before answering, “Ok. Just calm down and listen to my voice. I’m at your 10 o’clock.” Roxy turned toward them so, “Ok, now, Walk toward me slowly.” This time, instead of walking, she pounced, straight into Scotty. “OOF!”
Ness would have been down too but she dodged it.
Scotty ended up on the floor with Roxy on him like he was her prey. “Scotty?” She asked, covering his face with her paw. Scotty answered, muffled through her paw, “I’m here, I’m here.” Roxy hugged him, clearly upset. He hugged back. He was Definitely having a chat with Gregory later. Scotty helped Roxanne to Parts & Services, where he soon found one of Freddy’s eyes on the monitor desk. Oooof Course, he thought.
He set Roxanne down in the canister and began the program, he grabbed the Freddy eye and put in the socket, he Easily got through the Simon says pad. Seriously, why do they have this shit to fix up 1 Animatronic? He thought, “the older models didn’t have all this, even Lefty and the Rockstars don’t.” He finished up and Roxy sat up in the chair, looking at her paws. “I’m… ruined, everything I have…” her voice cracked for a moment, Scotty went to her, “I’m a loser…” she whined. Scotty grabbed her shoulders, “Hey,Hey,Hey! You are not a loser… would a loser have friends? Or someone like me?” Roxanne looked at Scotty and softly smiled. She stood up and sighs. “We need to find the kid.”
Scotty nodded, and lead the way out of Parts & Service. They found Gregory with Freddy and Vanessa at Rockstar Row. She was scolding Gregory for something, probably for what happened to Roxy, but when they got closer they heard that Chica had also been Shattered. “GREGORY!” Scotty yelled, Gregory saw them and pulled a “uh-oh” face. Vanessa saw them too and got even more stressed. “Roxy too?! Oh, you’re in Big trouble, young mister!” He pointed at the kid. Freddy, meanwhile, just stared at his friend in surprise, “Roxanne! I do apologize for Gregory’s behavior, I would have never thought that he-“ Roxy cut him off, “Freddy. No need to apologize. He’s a scared kid. He was just defending himself.” She smiled at him, which made Freddy relax.
Scotty sighed, he crouched down to Gregory. “Why are you destroying the animatronics, bud? You’re gonna get both of us fired, you know?” “I know! But I really wanted to upgrade Freddy so that we… could stop that Vanny lady.” Gregory answered, and Scotty stood up again, and looked at Vanessa. She gave him a sort of “I told you so” face and groaned, “Great, now that hare’s gonna be pissed!”
Freddy spoke up, “if it matters, I was speaking with Mr. Lefty earlier and He spoke of Mr. Afton’s reason of killing. I think that’s why he’s after Gregory. That’s why all of these experiences and people… Alec, Spring and the others… went through everything they went through. But he needs to have a lair somewhere to hide. He wouldn’t just be with Vanny and all of us, right?”
Scotty thought for a moment, and then realized Ness never came with him and Roxy to Parts & Services. Instead, she wanted to stay behind just in case someone came by, and he saw her slip to an elevator, “I think I know where it is. Roxy, is there a elevator in Roxy’s Raceway?” Roxy nodded, “It’s usually off-limits due to the poor condition of it. Why?” “Because We’re gonna check it out,” Scotty turned to Gregory, “and you, stay here and behave. You messed up Chica and Roxy, I don’t want you to mess up Monty of all people.” Gregory let out one of those dramatic kid groans. Vanessa stepped forward, “be careful.” Scotty Nodded, signaled Roxy, and hurried to what would be the Lair of the Weasel-Face Bastard.
————————
&lt;&lt;;< Previous Part. —— First Part
Next Part >>>
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hakesbrother · 1 year
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Louis has been unsigned since Syco ceased to exist, he is the sole owner of triple strings since september and said himself he didn't have a record label to do the livestream. So are you saying he has been paying off the family to use a child and pays Eleanor from his own pockets since he has been unsigned and now is an indie artist with new deal. Or are you saying BMG is paying for it now because he is signed with them? Fan conspiracy theory is still a fan conspiracy theory.
Anon I want to personally thank you because it seems my blog is now big league enough to receive copy/paste anon hate. I’m not sure when this happened. But I’m tickled pink. Thank you for this bright addition to my day 💛
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cupids-crystals · 3 years
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Cupid Crystals (Fred Weasley)
Word Count: 1.3k
Summary: Fred becomes infatuated with reader after accidentally coming into contact with a new shop product.
A/N: No warnings, just fluff!! In case anyone was wondering, this is where my username comes from!! No reader pronouns. My requests are open!!
Dating Fred Weasley meant that you found yourself volunteering in the joke shop night and day. You stocked shelves on the weekends and spent many midnights helping with inventory counts. Nearly half of your dates with the oldest Weasley twin took place in the small office while George took care of the customers.
You loved being in the shop, though. The atmosphere was something indescribable; the sounds of laughter seemed to be permanently ingrained in the air and you wondered how anyone could be upset surrounded by the colorful and curious products.
Fred and George had been tirelessly working on a new line of products for months and the unveiling was only a few days away. One product was a new take on a wizarding favorite – a love potion that only lasted a short amount of time.
Fred was stacking the new love potions – Cupid Crystals as he so cleverly named them – onto the display while you and George were working to set up other areas of the shop. The bright pink concoctions swirled in heart shaped glass bottles as Fred crowded them onto the display stand in the front of the store. He absentmindedly slid the potions out of the box, mind focused on the work the three of you had left before the unveiling of the new products.
Scanning the store for his next task, Fred hurriedly shoved the last bottle onto the full surface. His jarring movement pushed one blush colored bottle off the stand, causing it to crash into the floor. Hearing the commotion, you glanced over to see Fred crouched over the mess a few feet from you. You made your way over to him, ready to help clean whatever mess he had made.
“D’you need help, Freddie?”
The redhead turned to face you, his eyes wide and a dopey grin taking over his features. His hand raised towards you, fingers outstretched to grab onto the hem of your shirt.
“Y/n, I’m so glad you’re here. Missed you so much.” His words were lethargic and slurred, causing you to raise your eyebrows at his odd speech. His fingers curled tighter into the material of your shirt, pulling you closer to him.
“You alright, Fred?”
He nodded, slinging his arms around your waist from where he sat in the floor. When you glanced over, you noticed that one of the Cupid Crystal bottles was shattered next to him. You quickly connected the dots, realizing that Fred must’ve be acting this way because he inhaled too much of the love potion.
His head came to rest on your covered abdomen and you ran your fingers through his bright hair, stifling your laughter at the state of your boyfriend. He was practically purring from the attention as you scratched lightly at his scalp. George had made his way over to the two of you, eyes wide at the scene before him.
“Is he alright?”
You nodded with a look of apprehension. “He inhaled some of the love potion, I think.”
George huffed, eyes downcast onto his brother. He chuckled slightly at the predicament as he moved towards the two of you. Hearing his footsteps, Fred glanced up at George and then up at you.
“Well, he isn’t going to be any help for a while. Why don’t you try to keep him upstairs while the potion wears off? Shouldn’t take more than a couple of hours.”
Listening to George’s instructions, you nodded and attempted to pull the lanky redhead off of you. Fred only tightened his grip and pressed the side of his face further into the material of your shirt. George was in a state of laughter as he left to grab his wand to clean spilled potion.
Trying again to get your boyfriend to move, you cupped his cheeks in your palms and pulled his attention to you. “Fred, darling, will you come with me? I need to get something from the apartment.”
He nodded and rose to his feet, his hands scrambling to keep ahold of you in any way he could. The two of you shuffled towards the stairs, Fred’s arms wrapped around your shoulders while you lugged him through the shop; his awkward and clumsy steps made the trip upstairs nearly twice as long as usual.
When you finally opened the front door, you pulled Fred to the living room and deposited him onto the couch. He curled into the soft material as you glanced around the room for something to keep him occupied. Deciding that you weren’t close enough, Fred sat up suddenly, bringing your attention back to him. He grabbed onto your hand and tugged you to sit next to him on the couch.
“Y/n, you look so pretty. You’re too far away, wanna see how pretty you are.”
Your face warmed at his overt compliments; Fred was always vocal about his affection towards you, but the sudden openness to his words made your cheeks burn.
Fred couldn’t seem to sit still beside you. He moved his hands over your arms, watching his fingertips as they ran across your skin. Still under the affect of the potion, he muttered a string of praises directed at you. The words blended together as he rambled on without a filter.
“- and I just love you so much. Did you know that? Did I tell you yet? I should tell you more. I’ll tell you ten times a day. No, a hundred!”
You groaned at the constant chatter coming from the boy beside you. Surely, you thought, he would pass out if he didn’t take a breath soon. An idea popped into your head of how to pass the time.
“Fred, darling, why don’t we take a nap?”
He stilled at your suggestion, seemingly pondering the option. In a hesitant voice, he answered, “you’ll stay with me?”
You nodded earnestly, moving to lay flat on the couch. You patted the spot next to you, prompting him to lay down as well. The two of you were in a tangle of limbs as Fred tried to stay attached to you. His head rested on your chest and his arms were wound tightly around your frame, practically covering you completely as his body laid overtop yours.
The two of you rested in the quiet apartment, the only sound being Fred’s occasional murmured compliment. His eyelids drooped and he relaxed his grip on you, content with the rise and fall of your chest against his cheek. You were clearly amused with the situation as you giggled at the words tumbling from his lips.
“S’pretty, y/n.”
“Shh.”
“Just love you so much.”
“I love you too, darling. Go to sleep, please.”
After a few rounds of back-and-forth chatter, his light snores filled your ears. You sighed in relief, hoping that he would sleep away the effects of the potion. Your fingers ran over his back lightly, finding comfort in his peaceful aura.
Closing your eyes, you began to feel drowsy as well. Before you could fall asleep, though, you heard the front door crack open and the sound of footsteps move through the apartment. George appeared in your line of sight, a mischievous grin taking over his features.
“Alright, y/n?”
You rolled your eyes and replied in a quiet voice, “if you wake him up, I’m giving you the love potion next.”
He laughed airily and held his hands up in surrender. George looked over the saccharine image in front of him; Fred’s eyebrows were pinched slightly, his cheek smushed against your shirt as he held you in his embrace. Even though the day didn’t go as planned, he was happy to see the two of you have this moment together. George grabbed a thin blanket and draped it over the two of you.
“At least we know the potion works.”
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weasleylangs · 3 years
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opposites attract - f.w.
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Pairing: Fred Weasley x Hufflepuff Fem!Reader Summary: The quiet, Hufflepuff bookworm has captured the heart of the mischievous Gryffindor.  Warnings: none! Word Count: 2k
A/N: For the anon that asked for Fred with a Hufflepuff reader who he’s uncharacteristically sweet for! I’m sorry it took so long, I hope you (and everyone else who reads it) enjoys it!! 
P.S let me know if you’d like to be added to a tag list!
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Y/N sits in charms, completely zoned out. Charms was always her best subject and she was luckily one of those ‘never study, always pass’ students. The same could not be said about her boyfriend, however, who was sitting across the room trying to tickle his best friend with his quill and distract him.
Y/N and Fred were an unusual couple, and no one understood how the shy Hufflepuff girl managed to catch the mischievous Gryffindor’s attention. Fred’s idea of a good time was turning the corridor into a swamp or roughhousing during quidditch practise whilst Y/N’s was curled up in front of a fire, a nice book in her hand. But no one questioned it, because somehow they made it work.
Fred caught her eye and winked. They’ve been dating for six months now and he never gets tired from the shy look on her face when he looks at her. She shakes her head, hiding behind her hair and turning her attention back to Flitwick as he drones on about their assignment. 
When the bell rings, signalling next period, Fred’s across the room in no time. Y/N has her head down, grabbing her notebook and quill when Fred snatched them out of her hand whilst simultaneously grabbing her bag from the floor. “I’ll carry them for you, love,” he said, smiling.
This wasn’t unusual behaviour. Before the couple got together, everyone always thought Fred was a flirt and was hooking up with different people every weekend, and whilst they were right at the time, Fred is absolutely whipped for his badger girlfriend and hasn’t even looked at another girl since their first date. He’s always wanting to carry her books or he’s slinging an arm around her shoulder.
She has him wrapped around her finger and he couldn’t care less.
“You don’t have to do that, Freddie. You know my bag is heavy,” she says trying to grab the bag from him. Fred only takes three classes, considering the three O.W.L’s he received in their fifth year, meaning sometimes he only has one class a day. However, Y/N managed to receive ten, only failing History of Magic (‘Who fucking cares?’ was everyone’s response), resulting in her having multiple classes a day and therefore a very heavy bag. 
Fred, of course, shrugs it off, “I’m a beater, darling. Nice and strong. I can barely tell that you have five textbooks in here,” he says as he winks and causes Y/N’s face to heat up as she swats him on the chest. “I’m just saying you don’t have too, I can carry my own bag,” she pouts. While she knows Fred is more than happy to lug her bag around, she hates the idea that he’s only doing it out of obligation to be a ‘good boyfriend’. 
These insecurities aren’t new. She hears what people say about them and it doesn’t bother her for the most part. Just there’s only so many times she can handle people she’s not even friends with talking about how ‘Y/N isn’t right for Fred’. 
“You have potions now, yes?” Fred asks, pulling Y/N out of her worries as she follows Fred through the corridors. That’s another thing she never expected, Fred learnt her timetable when they started dating so he could always walk her to class. “I do, Freddie. You have a free right, are you spending it with George and Lee?” 
Fred nods, “I sure am, we’re meeting in the One-Eyed Witch passage to pop down to Honeydukes too, you need anything?” Y/N frowns at this. “Freddie, that passage is on the third floor on the other side of the school. You don’t have to walk me to potions,” she tries to grab her bag from him again and he shakes his head.
“Darling, what part of ‘I want to do this’ do you not understand?” While his tone is sharp, he’s not angry. Y/N doesn’t think she’s ever seen Fred this serious, a glint of cheekiness is always present in his eyes but right now, he looks about as serious as Snape when talking about proper cauldron care. 
“I just don’t want to keep you from the boys,” she whispers, tugging at the sleeves of her robes. They stop walking, and Fred drags her body into a hug. “The boys are fine waiting, now do you want anything from Honeydukes.” 
She falters for a second, just enjoying being in his presence. Despite the short amount of time they’ve been dating, Y/N knows what she feels for him is love and she can only hope the tall ginger boy feels the same way in return. His embrace can only be described as comfort, all Y/N’s worries rushing away as his familiar scent of firewood and cinnamon fills her senses.
“Some sugar quills, please,” she mumbles into his robes. “Anything for you,” he replies, pulling away and grabbing her hand. “C’mon, you’re going to be late for potions.” 
-
It’s after dinner by the time Y/N catches Fred again. She’s walking out of the Great Hall when she feels her robes get tugged on and she almost falls over. 
“Hi,” Fred says, “some sugar quills for my sugar quill.” 
Y/N cringes at the cheesy nickname as she thanks him, popping the sweets into her robe pockets, “What are your plans for tonight?” Fred shrugs, more quiet than usual as he plays with Y/N’s fingers. “Nothing, I was… I was wondering if I can come and hang in the Hufflepuff common room with you?” 
He’s shy and Y/N almost coos at it. Fred ‘no filter when he speaks’ Weasley is blushing as he asks his girlfriend to spend some time with her in her house common room, this is a once in a lifetime happening. 
“Of course, Freddie. Any reason why?” It’s not that she doesn’t want him spending time with her. But Fred’s never expressed an interest in spending the night in, rather opting to terrorise Filch or another teacher after dinner.
“You like spending your evenings reading in front of the fire. I feel like I’ve barely seen you today,” he whispers. At this, she decides not to torture the poor boy any further and grabs his hand. “C’mon,” 
They arrive at the common room in no time, no one batting an eye at the Gryffindor waltzing into the common room where he doesn’t belong. In fact, he gets quite a few “Hi Fred’s!” from people in their year. He’s always been popular and well known, so of course, the house of kindness is happy to have him.
“I’m going to run up to my dorm and change, are you sure you’re okay?” Fred nods, sitting himself down on the soft yellow chair in front of the fire. It’s Y/N’s favourite chair to read in and Fred knows it. “Sure am, hurry back before I freeze to death.”
Y/N speed changes, switching out her uniform for some sweatpants, one of Fred’s old jumpers and her favourite fuzzy sock. While she’s up there, she grabs a spare sweater she’s stolen from Fred for him to change into and her copy of ‘Frankenstein’ from her nightstand and rushes back downstairs and straight into Fred’s lap. “Hi,” she whispers, kissing him on the cheek. 
Fred hums a hello as he settles into the soft pillows of the couch. Y/N perches herself next to him, slinging her legs across his lap with her back against the arm rest. “What’s it about?” Fred asks, gesturing to the book she’s just opened. He knows Y/N’s love for muggle books and he loves hearing her talk about them, even though he never understands. “A scientist who creates a ‘monster’ through experiments… It’s one of my favourites.” 
She waves the book in Fred’s face and sure enough, the sticky notes and the plastic tabs are sticking out, referencing all her favourite parts. “It sounds cool, can I read it after you?” 
Y/N is shy about this. Books are very important to her and she feels her sticky notes and writing in the margins are her deepest thoughts, a peep into her soul. But the boy in front of her owns her heart, every single part of it, and she decided then and there, she wants to share every part of herself with him. “Sure, but you have to promise to not judge my notes.” 
He could never, the Hufflepuff girl in his lap turns his heart to mush no matter how much he tries to hide it and he can’t even imagine hurting her. He holds his pinky out, “I promise,” he says as she hooks her own with his and he presses a kiss to her forehead. 
They sit in silence for a while. Fred starts conversing with members of the Hufflepuff quidditch team (“We’re going to crush you next week, Kirke” she hears Fred say at one point and she has to nudge him with her knee to not start a brawl in the common room) while Y/N reads. At one point, her hand ends up in Fred’s hair, playing with the short strands at the nape of his neck. 
When she does this, Fred leans into her touch and his eyes flicker shut for only a second. She thinks she’s finally found a way to quiet him down and she makes a mental note to play with his hair next time she wants to get some reading done. 
The time starts to near 10pm as Y/N starts yawning, and as much as Fred would love to stay, he knows he’ll have enough trouble getting back to Gryffindor tower without George, Lee and their trusty Mauraders Map. “I should probably get going, darling,” Fred mutters after a while and when he looks at his girlfriend, she’s pouting.
“I wish you could stay,” she says and when Fred cocks his eyebrow she laughs, “not like that, you git!” 
She quickly stands, pulling Fred’s gangly body up from the couch and into her arms. “I’ll see you tomorrow morning, we have double Defence,” Fred says laughing and she feels his chest rumble with laughter. “Too long,” she mumbles in reply. When Y/N gets tired, she gets clingy which was one of the earliest things Fred ever learnt about her. It’s always one of the cutest things about her.
He walks to the portrait hole, his small girlfriend clinging to his body and he presses a soft kiss to her hairline before detaching her. “Darling, I have to go.”
He feels terrible. He knows she isn’t being clingy to make him feel bad, she genuinely just wants to spend time with him. She yawns again, eyes scrunched closed as she stretches her arms that somehow end up wrapped back around his waist. 
“Okay, you can go,” she gives him one final squeeze before letting him go and looking up at him and before Fred can stop himself the words are slipping out.
“I love you.” 
This wakes her up immediately and her eyes are wide as she looks at him, “R-really?” 
Fred was going to pretend he never said it, worried it was both too early and that she didn’t feel the same way. But the way she’s looking at him, glints of happiness in her eyes and the biggest smile he’s ever seen on her face he knows now is the right time.
“I do, I love you.” 
She jumps on him again, pressing her lips to his. Her lips are soft against his, they always are and the kiss is filled with love and adoration. Neither of them is aware of how long they stand there, embraced in each other’s arms until they’re barely kissing anymore, their smiles too wide. 
“I love you too, Freddie. I love you more,” she says, full seriousness in her face. “Oh love, you won’t win this argument.” He presses a kiss to her lips again before slinking out of the portrait hole, leaving Y/N standing with her fingers pressed to her lips smiling. 
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wlntrsldler · 3 years
Note
Hey! For the Taylor Swift / Harry Potter prompt thing could you please do Fred and I Think He Knows? Much thanks!!❤️❤️
PROMPT: based on i think he knows by taylor swift (an installment of my taylor swift x harry potter series. to read more about it, click here) Y/N drunkenly confesses her feelings. 
WC: 2.1K+
HARRY POTTER MASTERLIST
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i think he knows (f.w one shot)
“Ron,” you hissed from across the table. The boy remained oblivious, munching down on the pile of breakfast he dumped on his plate. He seemed to inhale the food, nevermind with chewing and actually tasting it. He just swallowed it in large pieces to make room in his mouth for some more eggs and hashbrowns. You flicked a piece of balled up napkins towards him, “Ron!”
“Blimey, Y/N,” he finally looked away from his food and shot you an annoyed look. “What the hell is going on with you?” 
“I think he knows,” you whispered, chewing on your bottom lip, nervously. 
“Who? Fred?”
You rolled your eyes, looking over to where the older twin sat a few people away from the both of you, “Who else, you idiot? Yes Fred!” 
“I doubt it,” Ron shrugged, returning to his plate of food, like you were just a distraction to him, not much of a best friend. “He’s an oblivious git. He probably doesn’t know.”
“Probably?!” you half shrieked, half whispered. It was loud enough for the twins to hear, looking at you concernedly. You sent a shy wave their way and hid behind the comfort of your hands. “I want to jump off the Astronomy tower.” 
“Well, he’s gonna find out if you keep acting like this, Y/N,” he stated, obviously. Again, you flicked a balled up napkin his way, not really appreciating his tone with you. He flicked it back, “I’m just saying, stop acting suspicious and just act normal.”
Act normal, you thought, that’s easy enough, right? 
But what the hell does normal even mean?
-
You knew you probably shouldn’t have drank so much. Your tolerance has deteriorated tremendously after not drinking for a year but when Angelina kept offering you shots, you couldn’t refuse. Now, the common room seemed to spin around after each step you took, leading you back to where you started. Right beside the table of half eaten snacks and spiked drinks. 
The Gryffindor team won the Quidditch match today and after a long, hard, school week, the team decided it would be best to blow off some steam with a little party. Fred and George were across the room, surrounded by a group of adoring, young Gryffindors. They gushed around them, complimenting them on their amazing plays in today’s match. You knew they loved the attention with the way Fred couldn’t keep the twinkle in his eye subdued for too long and the way George nudged his brother’s side every time someone reenacted one of their moves. It wasn’t hard to believe that they were some of the most popular boys to ever strut on campus. 
You took baby sips from your cup, watching the older twin intently. He wore a cozy-looking jumper, like his twin, making you think about how nice it would be to sleep in it with his scent filling your senses. His hair was a bit longer than usual, the side of it tucked behind his ear. His laughter was the only thing you could hear despite the loud music that Hermione’s Muggle radio played beside your ear. You were so focused on Fred that you didn’t notice Ron staring at you, trying to hold in his laughter. 
“You’re so whipped.” 
Startled, you clutched your chest and turned to your best friend. You smacked his upper arm, irritated that he always seems to catch you when you’re staring at his brother so hopelessly in love. “Can you shut up?” 
Ron laughed, passing you his drink, “You need to get drunk.” 
“Am I not already?” 
“You’re in your ‘I’ll oggle at Fred’ phase drunk,” he explained, shoving his cup with mysterious liquor into your hand. “I need you at your ‘I have no filter so I say things that I’ll regret or will get me in trouble’ phase drunk. I need a good laugh.”
You narrowed your eyes at him, but took the cup, nonetheless. “Aren’t you already having a field day with how pathetic I am pining after your brother?” 
“Sure,” he shrugged, filling the cup up for you again. “But I want you to insult Pansy like last time. That was good fun.” 
You took the drink in his hand, downing the entire liquid. You grimaced as it burned your throat, in a good way. You chuckled at the memory, sending your best friend a wink, “I’d fight Pansy sober.” 
Four more drinks later, you were at that phase. Ron retired a bit early, mumbling something about wanting to get to the dormitories before Harry could stumble in with Ginny and scar him for life. You ignored him, not really wanting to picture that scene in your head. Now, you were bouncing off the walls, spewing out your deepest secrets to anyone that dared to listen. 
You were having good fun until you tried to refill your cup and a hand grabbed yours, preventing you from doing so. You were about to protest when you looked up and saw a redhead. Usually you would be able to tell the twins apart because you know Fred and you know George, but whatever it was that Ron gave you, made your vision so blurry you couldn’t possibly tell them apart. Maybe you just drank too much tonight. 
“I think that’s enough,” he chuckled, pulling the cup away from you. “Want me to take you back to your dormitory?”
You pursed your lips, trying to figure out which twin it was that’s speaking to you. The harder you tried, the harder it seemed to be. They were both handsome, no doubt about it, but with Fred you usually felt your chest tighten and your mouth going dry. The problem is, you’ve drank so much that you emotionally felt numb and your mouth is already dry from the alcohol in your system. Finally, you decided to guess. It’s a 50/50 shot after all. 
“Sure, Georgie, I’d appreciate that,” you mumbled, walking alongside him towards the way to the girls’ dormitories. “Your arsehole of a brother left me by myself. Can you believe that?” 
Fred was almost offended that you couldn’t tell him and George apart, almost. But he took a look at your inebriated state and decided that he’ll let you slide this time. Plus, he heard a lot about your ‘truth serum’ phase drunk but he was yet to experience it, until today. He found it quite charming, but then again, he always found you charming. 
He’s had a crush on you for so long. One day you walked into the Burrow, and suddenly you were no longer his little brother’s best friend. You were Y/N. And he fell head over heels for you. Fred found you funny and gorgeous and sweet and so adorably cute, that sometimes George would have to hit him in the back of the head to get him to stop daydreaming over you. But alas, he thought you only saw him as your best friend’s brother. 
“I’ve got a lot of brothers, Y/N,” he chuckled beside you, arms at the ready in case you were about to fall over. “You’ve got to be more specific than that, love. You talking about Percy? Ron, maybe? Fred?” 
“Well, Percy is an arse but for a whole different reason,” you started, as if pondering the moments that you personally disliked his brother. This pulled out a snort from Fred because he agreed with you. Percy was an arse. You continued, “But no, I’m talking about Ronald, of course! He just leaves me there at a party that he dragged me into!” 
“Yeah, that’s a dick move, innit?” 
“I’d say so,” you hummed. Before you could stop yourself from talking, the alcohol took over your senses. “I’d never call Fred an arse, you see. I think he’s far too fit to be an arse.” 
As you entered your dormitory, Fred’s eyebrows shot up. Did you just call him fit? He led you to your bed, watching fondly as you plopped down on the cushion, “Is that so?” 
“Definitely,” you chuckled, burying your head into your pillow. “Don’t tell him this, Georgie, but I fancy him. I fancy him a lot.” 
“Do you now?” Fred’s cheeks reddened as he watched you nod and smile up at him, eyes droopy. 
“Yeah, I do,” you sat up, raising your pinky up in the air. “Pinky promise me that you won’t tell Freddie? Or-or use that twin telepathy thing that I think you guys have! Please, Georgie, you can’t tell him. I’ll be far too embarrassed if you do.” 
Unable to fight the smile on his face, he linked your pinkies together, “I promise, Y/N. But I don’t think you’d get embarrassed if he found out. Anyone would be lucky to have you have a crush on them.” 
“You’re sweet, Georgie,” you smiled, already half-asleep. “If only Fred thought the same as you.” 
Fred laughed as you dozed off, leaning against your bedpost. He draped a blanket over your small figure and placed a kiss on your temple before whispering, “He does. Goodnight, love.” 
-
“I’m never drinking again,” you groaned, rubbing your head with your hands. Hermione laughed beside you, ushering you to continue walking to get some breakfast to nurse your hangover. “I can’t believe I told George about my crush on Fred.” 
“Well, he’s bound to find out anyway,” she shrugged as you two sat in front of Ron and Harry. 
“Find out what?” Harry asked, not bothering to greet the two girls with a good morning. And to be honest, with the way you looked like you’d just been pulled out of another dimension, he assumed it has not been a good morning so far. 
Hermione giggled as she filled her plate, “Y/N told George about her crush on Fred last night.”
“Correction,” you interrupted, “Drunk Y/N did. Sober Y/N is regretting that decision.” 
“Wait you told George? When?” Ron asked, eyebrows furrowed. “Did you tell him before he came into my room to show me a prototype for their shop?” 
You stared at Ron like he was stupid, “What are you on? He walked me to my room last night.” 
“No, he was in my room last night.” 
“Well, he can’t be at two places at once, can he, Ronald?” you sighed a hint of attitude in your tone, shaking your head at your friend. The table froze, jaws hanging wide, before you caught on. Oh shit. You gasped, clasping your palm over your mouth, “Please tell me I didn’t.”
Ron erupted in unsympathetic giggles, laughing at your pale complexion, “Y/N, you told Fred you fancied him!” 
Eyes wide, you shook your head furiously, “No I didn’t!” 
“Well now we know why you’re not a Ravenclaw,” Harry added, joining Ron in his laughter fit. 
“Shut it, Potter!” you hissed, dropping your head in your hands. This cannot be happening. “Godric, please can the universe just eat me alive now?”
“Well now, he definitely knows.”
“Ronald, stop it.” Hermione poked your side, a terrified look on her face. “Uh, Y/N?”
“What?” Just as you thought things couldn’t get worse, Fred was walking to where you’re sat. Your heart was jumping in your chest. Your palms grew sweaty and you couldn’t stop your foot from nervously tapping on the floor. Should I run, you thought, or should I just act like nothing happened? 
Before you could make a decision, Fred took a seat beside you. 
“Hello, darling,” he grinned, biting his bottom lip. 
You squirmed in your seat, trying to ignore Ron and Harry’s muffled giggles in the back. You gulped, “Hiya, Fred. How you doin’ today?” 
“Lovely, thanks for asking,” he replied, a smile still etched on his face. He cocked his head to the side, “And yours, love?” 
You swallowed down the butterflies that flew in your stomach. You played with your thumbs, unable to look at him in the eye. “Fine.” 
“Good, good.” 
“Yup.” 
“Well, good talking to you,” Fred got up and dusted his pants, leaving you dumbfounded in your seat. Was that it? Well, you thought, that wasn’t so bad. You turned around, offering him a tight-lipped smile out of courtesy, before turning back around and returning to your food. 
“That was anticlimactic, wasn’t it?” Ron frowned. 
“Oh, Y/N,” Fred stopped and walked over to you again. He leaned down so close that you could smell the mint toothpaste he used that morning. His breath tickled your ear, making you shiver. Fred’s lips touched the skin that connected your neck and your ear, pressing a soft kiss there. Then he whispered, “I fancy you, too.” 
He shot you a wink before walking away. You blushed furiously, fingers raising up to trace the place where his lips once were. Grinning at your friends, you breathed out, “I think he knows.”
TAGS:
@rexorangecouny
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leafs-lover · 2 years
Note
Sorry for blowing you up but I just couldn’t resist. Last one I think.
“I don’t share” with “Are you…are you jealous?” With Freddie pleaseeeee. 😘
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Jealous!Freddie taken from this prompt list
The music is loud, too loud for a Wednesday night. You have to work tomorrow, meaning drinks have to be limited. Fred is off, and you wanted to spend it with him, but it’s your friend’s birthday you had to go out.
You considered inviting him, but you’ve barely been together two months and he hasn’t met your friends. Janet, recently single said she wanted a night with just her girls, and you couldn't argue with her, not today.
The only good thing about being out on a Wednesday is the quieter crowd, allowing you the opportunity to actually talk to your friend and not have a parade of men trying to hit on your group. Or so you thought.
A few minutes ago, a group of three guys made their introductions and slipped into the empty seat at your table. Janet and Sarah were immediately interested and began engaging in conversations with them, and flirting back. Alec was interesting enough, talking about some project at his architect firm he is working on. He listened when you talked about work, made some jokes. The conversation was pleasant enough even if you couldn’t stop glancing at the clock, trying to gauge an acceptable time in which you can leave.
Excusing yourself for the bathroom, you spend more time than needed lingering at the sink, staring at the reflection, trying to muster the will to return when the real person you want to see is at his apartment a few blocks away.
Walking back into the bar, it’s a little busier than before, some more groups having filtered in. Waiting at the bar, you catch the eye of Alec and flash him a soft smile before turning around to order a drink. It takes a little longer than normal, a delay you are surprisingly okay with.
“Who’s that?” There is a familiarity in the deep voice but it’s not until he speaks again that you recognize it. Not from the sound, but the tingling in your core. “He seems nice.”
“He is,” you play into it.
“Really?” shock comes across in his tone. “He looks like an ass."
“That’s a little judgmental given you know nothing of him.”
“I don’t need to know anything about him. All I need is to know you’ll be in my bed three hours from now.”
Growling out the last few words, your knees get weak, kicking your legs apart and slotting his denim covered thigh between them, he flexes, sending a feral instinct through you.
“Are you…are you jealous?” you ask, a hint of intrigue lacing the words.
“I don’t share.”
His breath on your neck is hotter than the fire burning inside you. Digging his thumbs into your hips, you involuntarily roll your hips back against him, conjuring a deep seeded groan from him.
“Thought tonight was a girl's night?”
“The birthday girl apparently changed her mind.”
Grabbing the drink from in front of you, Fred doesn’t let you leave, keeping the tight grip on your hips.
“Well since the rules changed, maybe she wants to meet her best friends boyfriend before he whisks her away to make sure she knows who she’s with.”
Even though you're unable to see his face you can feel the smugness rolling off him in waves, the pleasure he is relishing in. Fighting a smirk you gently nod against his chest. With a brief kiss to your cheek, his large hand grasps yours, and with a slightly aggressive yet playful tug, he pulls you to the table, starting by introducing himself to Alec.
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Tagging some people who might be interested, if you want to be added/ removed from the Freddie taglist let me know!
@mandypants95 @c-tangerine @canesjedi31 @daniellepulice72 @puccbunni @hockeyinaussie @delighttfulll @duhhhokay @0kikina0 @sixmapleleafs @je-ne-regrette-rien
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Text
hi!!!!💘 here have another “ian processing things” ficlet inspired by this post i saw today by zo @grabmyboner <3
(contrary to zo’s amazing post, ian does not have a new instagram in this to fuel the slight angst🤕)
--
He was having a weirdly good morning when it happened— it was Sunday, and he and Mickey had woken up late tucked together in a warm cocoon under the sheets, legs tangled and bodies pressed close, with Mickey breathing out huffy, just-waking-up breaths into Ian’s neck that tickled his skin until Ian had rolled onto his side and playfully shoved him away.
They’d laid under the sheets for what felt like hours, lazily scrolling on their phones, with Mickey letting out puffs of air through his nostrils in a silent chuckle every time a particularly outdated and stupid meme came across his Instagram Explore page— and of course Ian had to combat Mickey’s intense glee at holding up dumb Instagram memes too close to Ian’s sleep-bleary eyes by clicking open his own phone and thumbing over to the pink and orange app on his home page, to try and find some other stupid shit that would make his groggy half-asleep husband laugh.
It was then, when he opened the app and passively flicked over to his notifications, when he saw the memory:
See your post from 6 years ago today.
Before Ian even clicked on the thumbnail of the picture, before he touched the pad of his finger to the blurred, too-small image beside the words bolded in black, he felt the telltale tightening creeping into his chest— the one he couldn’t really explain most of the time, the one that snuck in and left his heart rattling and pounding against the walls of his ribcage despite the shaky, measured breaths that he tried to sip in and out to fight the rush of feeling.
But out of curiosity, or maybe a little bit of self-sabotage, he clicked on the image—with Mickey still obliviously smirking at his phone screen beside him in the bed, his free arm draped casually across Ian’s chest. So Mickey didn’t notice, really, when Ian pulled up the full post on his own screen— a pixely photo, taken on a now-outdated iPhone in the hazy darkness of the Fairytale.
Ian’s pale skin, the strobe lights bouncing off of it, was the only really visible item in the foreground— and in the shadows behind him, a group of unfamiliar faces. It didn’t even really look like him— his heavy-lidded gaze was murky, definitely hopped up on some bizarre cocktail of drugs quickly taken in a dirty bathroom stall with shaky hands. Ian— Ian in the photo, Ian at the club— was leaning sloppily against the chest of a grey-haired stranger in a dark button-up; glitter on his hollow cheeks, a barely-there mesh top, smudged eyeliner almost masking the purple shadows under his eyes. A black feather boa wrapped tight, too tight, around his neck— an older man with his hand snaked around Ian’s waist, another with his fingertips tangled in the end of the boa.
The tightness was still there, a rubber band wrapped snug around his chest. Aside from the shame and disgust swirling somewhere in his gut at seeing this stupid fucking picture, the thing that Ian felt most was the annoyance welling in him, thick and heavy— what fucking person couldn’t look at a picture of themselves being a stupid teenager? What type of person still felt the aftershocks, like fire and ice and fucking bee stings swelling under his skin, just by looking at a fucking old Instagram post?
“Hey man, are you good?”
Mickey’s phone was now face-down on the blanket, his body twisting under the sheets towards Ian. His eyes flickered to the phone clenched tight in Ian’s hand, undoubtedly searching for the reason that Ian’s heart was thrumming just a little bit too quickly under where Mickey’s hand was still limply resting on his chest.
Ian tried to swallow down whatever was in his throat, whatever was on his tongue. “It’s fine. Just thought I deleted all these old pictures and shit.” And despite that, he couldn’t really look away. “I guess I only got rid of the ones with the sleazy comments. And the videos or whatever.”
Mickey’s brows furrowed. They both weren’t really social media aficionados— if anything, they’d only really gotten into it recently, after the wedding and the move and needing some way to keep the rest of the Gallagher clan plus Kev and V in the loop about their various gardening endeavors and pictures of Baz sleeping, and to see Lip and Tami post baby pics of Freddie and his new little sister. Ian had rebooted his old Instagram account, the one he’d made in his final moments of high school and posted heavily-filtered pictures with Mandy on before joining the army. When he’d started working at the club back then, the Instagram quickly became a place to drum up business, to post specific photos and to flirt with clients in the comments— and he thought he’d deleted all of them when he redownloaded the app, keeping the pictures of a freckled 15-year-old Ian and removing the rest up through youth center brunches with Geneva. Apparently he’d missed this one, and all the memories that could come flooding back with it— and neither he nor Mickey had really noticed.
Mickey’s eyes stayed frozen to the screen— cautious, thinking. “Just fucking delete it, man.”
Ian thumbed over the red delete button, sending the picture into some sort of pixelated oblivion. But even that couldn’t really scrub the image out of his mind— the fingers pressed into his hip, the scratchy feathers tangled around his neck, the now-heavy boulder lodged in his chest. He ran his free hand through his hair, trying to ground himself in the face of whatever weird floatiness he was feeling—tugging at it, just a little.
“Hey.”
Mickey reached over— gently plucking the cell phone out of Ian’s white-knuckled grasp, placing it beside his with a soft thud on the bedsheets. Running his own hand through Ian’s hair— a hand that was gentle and slow, a hand that slightly dulled the buzzing in Ian’s brain, soothing the pain at the roots of his hair.
“Sorry.”
Mickey opened his mouth to protest Ian’s apology, but the words kept spilling out. “I don’t know why seeing stuff like that still makes me feel like shit. It’s like I forget it actually happened.”
He was healthy now— he was stable. He had an apartment with his husband, and a dog, and a savings account. How could he feel so fucking good one second, be laying in his bed from Ikea under a fucking duvet next to the love of his life, and feel so shitty in the next when he looked that version of himself in the eye?
It was stupid— it was so fucking stupid, but the feeling didn’t stop. He closed his eyes— he tried to focus on Mickey’s fingers, still scratching a slow pattern onto his scalp.
“You’re okay, Ian.” He let himself release a slow breath as he absorbed Mickey’s words. “You’re not there anymore. You worked fuckin’ hard to get here.”
Ian forced his eyes open. Mickey squeezed his wrist, tangled their fingers.
“I wish I could erase all that shit.” He hated how thick his voice sounded.
“You already did, Gallagher. Look where the fuck we are right now.” Mickey gestured to their white-walled apartment, their minimalist furniture.
Ian breathed out a throaty laugh. “Yeah. I guess.”
Mickey pressed a quick peck of relief to his temple, and Ian felt the warmth of it trickle down his spine. “You don’t gotta think about that shit anymore. It’s still gonna be there— but you’re filling everyone’s fucking Instagram feed with fucking tomatoes these days. You definitely ain’t the same person you were back then.”
Ian felt the corners of his mouth creep upwards. “You love my tomato pictures and you know it. And you love my captions even more.”
Mickey rolled his eyes— and leaned in close, settling again against Ian’s chest.
“Yeah, I guess I fuckin’ do.”
111 notes · View notes
helnjk · 3 years
Text
In a Crowd of Thousands - Part 1 // F.W.
Fred Weasley x fem!reader
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Word Count: 3.3k
Summary: You never really forget your childhood love. For Princess Y/N of Diagon, hers came in the form of a boy whose dream it was to start a business and support his family. As it goes, life–and her duty to her kingdom–had gotten in the way. She longed to see him again, to see the success she was sure he had achieved. Luckily, fate was on her side.
Warnings: food mention
A/N: yay she’s finally here ! i hope you enjoy part 1, i’d love to hear what you think ! xx 
Prologue
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At seven years old, Princess Y/N of Diagon loved how limitless the castle seemed to be. In fact, most of what she knew about the world she lived in came from the different parts of the castle. 
Flowing dresses and shining jewels belonged in the ballrooms, where many adults often mingled to the soft music of a four piece orchestra. Table manners were strictly followed in the grand dining hall, where the difference of a utensil came in the form of its placement beside the plate. Lessons on etiquette and too many sweets from Minnie were taken in the library, where afternoons were spent basking in the sunlight that filtered through the high windows and highlighted the dust that floated around the room. 
But what Y/N loved most about the place she lived and grew up in was that it was limitless in its hiding places. 
Today, she had taken a trip to the lower floors of the castle and was immediately taken by the hustle and bustle going on around her. What garnered her interest the most, though, was the tantalizing smell wafting through the hallways. Stumbling through the many bodies that littered the busy space, Y/N made her way towards where she assumed the smell was coming from. 
She could feel the curious–and somewhat concerned–gaze of the servants she passed, but there were more important things keeping her attention. 
“Bill, love, I’m going to need you to go out and chop some wood for the fires, the stock is cutting a little bit low today. Charlie, you need to go gather some more eggs from the chickens today,” a strong voice called out from one of the rooms. 
Y/N’s head peeked through the doorframe to see the organized chaos that she assumed was the kitchens. At the center of it all was a woman with fiercely red hair all tied up on top of her head and an apron wrapped around her waist, giving out orders left and right. 
The princess nearly jumped out of her skin when she realized that the woman had stopped talking and was looking in her direction with a raised eyebrow. 
“Hello there, darling,” she smiled softly, “You’ve wandered a little far from your afternoon lessons, haven’t you?” 
Y/N felt the tips of her ears heat up at being caught, but nonetheless she stepped into the kitchen and said, “I’m sorry. It just smells so good in here, I couldn’t help it.” 
The lady beamed with pride at the compliment and beckoned the princess over, “Come, you can help me cook this afternoon. I have reason to believe that I’m making the princess’ favorite meal today.” 
Throughout her stay at the kitchens, Princess Y/N learned quite a few things. One, Molly Weasley was quite possibly the best cook in the whole kingdom. Two, she knew that the red hair and pale skin seemed so familiar, and now she could finally put a face to the name whenever Fred would mention his mother. And three, the kitchens would always be a sanctuary for the young princess if she so desired to skip her lessons with Minerva. 
Speaking of Y/N’s lovely governess, she appeared at the lower floors of the castle just as the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. 
“Y/N!” Minerva chastised as she crossed the threshold into the kitchens. 
Her young ward froze up at the sound of her voice and she slowly turned around to face the older woman, “Oh, hello Minnie!” 
Molly looked on at the interaction with amusement shining in her eyes, but did not interfere. Instead, she continued on with plating the dishes she and Y/N had made, humming a soft tune under her breath. 
“Dear child, you have no idea what has been going on in your absence,” Minnie sighed, pulling the young princess into her arms and Y/N thought she heard a tinge of relief in her voice, “The Queen almost sent out a search party for you!” 
“Well that would’ve been awfully silly of them to do,” Y/N mused, “Why would I ever leave the castle if it’s full of nice people and good food?” 
“Yes, well, that’s exactly what I told her.” 
An amused sound escaped Molly’s otherwise unbothered facade and both the princess and her governess turned to look at her. 
“I can see now why my dear Freddie’s taken quite a liking to you, princess,” the cook explained, a small smile gracing her gentle face. 
“Yes, she is quite a character, isn’t she?” Minnie rolled her eyes playfully. 
At nine years old, Princess Y/N thought she had a good grasp on the inner workings of her home. 
With the help of her best friend and favorite redhead, she discovered secrets and passages in the royal grounds that she never dreamt of finding. Because of her unlikely friendship with him, she knew her way around most of the places she wasn’t really supposed to be making her rounds in.
The morning she was up before her chambermaid arrived, she had the crack in the curtains to thank. Rubbing the sleep out of her eyes, Y/N went to shut the drapes closed just so that she could get some more sleep in, but the sight of outside her window gave her pause. The misty fog that shrouded the grounds and the slowly rising sun peeking through the clouds created such a beautiful sight that the young princess couldn’t help but want to be a part of the beauty. 
Making a snap decision, Y/N threw on one of her coats over her nightgown and donned a pair of her sturdier boots before slipping out of her room. 
If the palace grounds looked stunning from her bedroom window two floors up, it was even more magical up close. As she trudged through the perfectly trimmed grass and moved between the manicured flower bushes, she admired how the fog seemed to glide with her. 
Eventually, she found herself unconsciously walking towards the stables. Ever since her friendship with Fred Weasley began there, it had held a special place in her heart. That morning was no different. 
“Hello gorgeous,” she whispered to one of the chestnut haired mares, stroking her nose gently. The creature gave a soft huff as if in reply and the young girl grinned widely. 
Some shuffling towards the end of the stables caught her attention and she made her way down the stalls. A smile immediately made its way onto Y/N’s face when she spotted the familiar head of red hair. Fred’s back faced her as he worked on stacking the piles of hay. 
“Freddie!” she exclaimed, her feet rushing up to meet him, “I can’t believe you’re up this early! Well, I can’t believe I’m up this early but–”
At the sound of her voice, Fred had spun around quickly to face her. His expression was that of someone who had just been caught misbehaving and it confused the princess. Fred’s eyes looked her up and down and he visibly gulped. 
“P-princess!” he stammered. He bent down into a low bow–something Y/N had never seen him do before–and said, “To what do I owe the honor of speaking with you this morning?”
“The honor?” Y/N laughed, “Freddie are you alright? You’re acting weird. You’ve never bowed to me before, you don’t need to! It’s just me.” 
“Mother always said to bow in the presence of royalty,” he shrugged. 
Before Y/N could reply, Fred simply went back to methodically stacking the bales of hay. She could see the tension in his shoulders as he did so, though, and she was left absolutely puzzled. She tried to think of anything she had done recently for him to be this frigid around her, but her mind came up blank. 
“Fred?” she asked tentatively, stepping toward him slowly, “Are you alright? Did I do something?” 
“Everything is alright, princess.” He sent a tentative smile over his shoulder. 
With a huff, Y/N turned on her heel and made the decision to just spend some more time with the horses. At least they had the courtesy of acting like they enjoyed her company. Granted, she gave them carrots to snack on and they naturally drifted towards food, but that wasn’t the point. 
By the time the sun was fully up in the sky and leaking through the small cracks in the walls, Y/N knew it was time to trudge back up into the castle. They were surely looking for her by now. Sighing, she clutched her coat tighter around herself and made one last glance at the redheaded boy who was supposed to be her best friend. 
“I’m going now, Freddie,” she called out, hoping to get some sort of reaction from him, “Minnie’ll be looking for me soon and I can’t miss this morning’s lessons.” 
“Leaving so soon? When I just got here?” 
The shriek that left the princess’ mouth when she saw Fred standing right behind her, by the entrance and simultaneously near the stacks of hay, made him jump. Her head whipped back and forth between the identical redheads at either ends of the stables. 
“What in the world is going on?” she demanded. 
“Well, it looks like you just met my twin,” Fred shrugged nonchalantly, “His name’s George and I don’t think he’s quite used to being in the presence of a royal.” 
“And it never crossed your mind to tell me that you had an identical twin?” Y/N asked, exasperated, “Here I thought you woke up on the wrong side of the bed today.” 
The cheeky grin Fred sent her nearly made her roll her eyes, but he draped an arm around her shoulders, squeezed lightly and said, “Maybe I just wanted to be your favorite redhead in the whole kingdom. Didn’t know if I could take sharing you with my less-handsome twin.” 
With a playful shove, Y/N replied, “Well too bad for you because Molly is definitely my favorite redhead in the whole kingdom.” 
That reply got a reaction from George, who snorted while trying to keep the piles from falling down on him and the princess grinned. She knew he was of a good sort and she would crack his shell eventually. 
At 11 years old, Princess Y/N had never been so nervous in her life. 
She felt as if her feet were physically glued to her place in the middle of the grand hallway as she stared at the doors that led to the library. 
There wasn’t anything particularly terrifying about the library. No, the library was a place for her lessons with Minnie and for spending afternoons getting lost in a good book. However, what the princess was about to do was definitely something that sparked a little fear and trepidation in her. 
Still, she was going to be late for her morning lessons if she wasted anymore time dawdling in the hallway. With a deep breath, she pushed open the heavy oak doors and stepped inside. 
Minnie was already seated at one of the center tables, a few pieces of paper spread out in front of her. Her eyes met with Y/N’s and she gave a nod of acknowledgement. 
“Good morning, Princess,” she said. 
“Morning Minnie.” 
Lessons went about as usual, if not slightly tense from the younger girl’s perspective. By the time they had finished for the morning, Y/N was practically shaking in her seat. 
“Are you going to tell me what’s been keeping you preoccupied this morning?” Minerva quirked an eyebrow at her. 
“I didn’t think you’d notice,” the princess admitted. 
“Now dear, I’ve known you since you were in diapers. I think I can tell when something’s on your mind.” 
Y/N thought of the way she and Fred had planned everything out meticulously, how decided on exactly what to say to Minnie so that she would say yes. Still, her mind ended up blanking and she silently cursed herself. 
“Oh, out with it, Y/N.” 
“Please could I go horseback riding with Fred this afternoon,” she said in one breath. Before Minerva could open her mouth to reply, the princess continued, “I’ve been really good with my lessons this week and Fred’s already checked that no one’s riding the horses this afternoon and he said he was going to teach me how to ride without being on side-saddle!” 
“Okay dear, take a breath,” her governess chuckled, “As long as you finish your coursework before the sun sets, I’m sure you could go riding with Mr. Weasley.” 
At her statement, Minerva was rewarded with a beaming smile and a multitude of ‘thank yous’. 
By the time the afternoon rolled around, Y/N was a bundle of excited nerves. Being a princess, she had been taught how to ride horses on side saddle, as it was the proper thing to do, but that meant she couldn’t go any faster than a trot. The idea of being able to go racing, feeling the cool breeze on her face and her hair whipping around her, it brought about a giddiness she couldn’t explain. 
Fred was already at the stables by the time she arrived, panting and resting her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. 
“Well don’t you look excited,” he teased as he fiddled with the saddle of one of the smaller horses. 
“Came here as fast as I could, the moment Minnie said I was free to go,” she said breathily. 
He replied with a grin and patted the horse after he was finished saddling up, “Well you’re in luck because Poseidon here is all geared up for you. Whenever you’re ready, Princess.” 
It took a few tries, but when Y/N was successfully on the horse, she beamed. 
Fred stepped back for a moment and she could see his arms were far from relaxed, almost as if he was anticipating an accident. He raised an eyebrow, “Are you alright there or do you need me to stay nearby in case you fall?”
“I can take care of myself, thank you very much,” she rolled her eyes, “Just get on your own horse.” 
The redhead sent her a mock salute and skillfully mounted his own horse– a chestnut brown stallion that stood tall and proud. The pair of them began a slow trot around the paddock just so that the princess could get used to things before Fred sent her a wink then nudged his horse to pick up the speed.
Fred often sent her words of encouragement and advice, making sure that she was comfortable with the speed that they were going and that her horse was alright. It warmed her heart to see him so careful and protective. It didn’t take long for her to get the hang of things and convince him that she was fine. 
Soon, Y/N was letting out laughs of delight, adrenaline pumping through her veins as Poseidon galloped gracefully through the vast expanse of the estate. Fred let out whoops out joy every once in a while beside her and she felt as if she was on top of the world. 
Time passed by in the blink of an eye and soon the sun was beginning to dip below the horizon. The orange hue that it left in its wake was stunning and it highlighted the gorgeous curves and dips of the landscape.
They spent a moment appreciating the view, horses side by side. It was the cherry on top of a perfect day, Y/N thought. 
At 13 years old, Princess Y/N of Diagon truly felt like her world was crashing down around her. 
Her hands shook as she sat on the front steps of the palace, elbows pressed against her knees. Eyes locked ahead, she tried to take steadying breaths but all she could focus on was the small dot on the horizon that became increasingly larger as it approached. 
A pair of carriages were coming to pick up the Weasleys. Arthur had been offered a baronship–a feat that would provide the family enough funds to live comfortably for the rest of their lives–and today was the day they chose to make the move. The entire family stood at the bottom of the stairs, a line of fiery red hair and excited energy, complete all except for one. 
Fred Weasley sat beside his princess, silent and contemplative. 
They both knew this moment was coming, and Fred had tried his best to spend the remaining time he had with her. They had spent hours upon hours doing things that they loved to do together. 
Afternoons were spent out riding, feeling the sun warm their skin and the breeze cool them again. Late nights were for nicking food from the kitchens and right under Molly’s nose. Minnie had even lessened the amount of time she and the princess had with their lessons, knowing fully well that Y/N needed it. 
Still, knowing something was going to happen and actually experiencing it are two separate things. The knowledge that Fred was going to leave her all alone didn’t quell the tightness in Y/N’s chest when the day finally came. 
The moment the carriages passed through the gates to the castle, her lip trembled and her breaths shortened. 
“Y/N,” Fred mumbled, turning his entire body to face her. 
A choked sob escaped the princess and she shook her head. 
Before she could reply, the young girl felt the familiar arms of her best friend wrap around her. His scent enveloped her and suddenly her tears were freely falling. 
They stayed in that position for a long moment; the princess sniffling and attempting to gather herself while Fred held her. Strong and steady. 
“You know how much this means to my family and me,” he whispered, his hands rubbing up and down her back, “I’ll be able to go to school, to finally do what I’ve always dreamed of doing.” 
“You’re not allowed to forget about me, alright?” she choked out as her palms went to swipe at the wetness on her cheeks, “When you’re a successful businessman and you’ve travelled the world, you have to remember little old me.” 
With a slightly skeptical shake of the head, Fred cracked a small smile and said, “How could I ever forget my favorite princess?” 
“Just making sure,” she whispered. 
“Now, you have to promise me that you’re going to make your dreams come true too,” he said, looking into her eyes. 
“I promise.” 
Y/N took a deep breath, eyes closed. She savored the last few moments she had with her best friend, and she squeezed him tightly before moving out of his grasp. 
“I love you loads, Freddie,” she said. 
“You know I love you too, Princess,” he grinned back at her. 
It wasn’t long before Molly was calling for Fred. 
With one last squeeze of the hand, Fred stood. “We’ll find each other again, Y/N. I’ll make sure of it.” 
All the Weasleys turned to face their Princess, some sending radiant smiles and others waving enthusiastically at her. She couldn’t help but smile and wave back, her eyes drifting towards her favorite redhead as he descended the steps. 
As the family began to sort themselves into the carriages, Fred looked back at his best friend one last time and sent her his signature charming smile. She gave him a small wave and then he was out of her sight. 
Y/N’s eyes stayed locked on the pair of carriages until they disappeared past the horizon. She remained seated on the steps of the palace until the sun had set and someone had come to tell her that supper was ready. 
That night, Y/N fell asleep with the feeling of dried tears on her skin and Minnie’s hands brushing through her hair. 
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Series Taglist: @prismarts​ @snoopydoop1​ @the-romanian-is-bae​ @demoiselle-en-detresse00 @manuosorioh​​
General taglist: @expectoevans​​ @george-fabian-weasley​ @gxthsanrio @slytherinscribbles​ @harpyloon​ @nuttytani​ @mesmerisedangel​ @amourtentiaa​ @just-here-to-escape-from-reality​ @lumos-barnes​ @cherryweasleys​ @writingsomewrongs​ @the-unmanaged-mischief​ @mrzweasley​ @inglourious-imagines​ @pr3ttysw33t​​ @amrtxntias​​ @miraclesoflove​​​
Weasley twins taglist: @pineapplesandpinas​ @papapapadumb​ @a-castle-of--glass​ @hey-there-angels​ @leovaldez37 @pinkypurplemagic​ @werewolfslut​ @surprizeshawtyy​ @oldschoolkiddo​ @gcdricreads​ @turtletaylor98​ @secret-obsessions​ @weaslxyss​ @serendiipty​ @nojamsonmytoast​ @famdomhideout​ @georgeweasley19​ @asuperconfusedgirl​ @loonylovegood13​ @lumielikesbooks​ @nanahachikyuu​ @freds-slut​ @theweasleytwinsgirl​​ @ghost3rr @littlemisswitt​​ @astoria-malfcy​​ @weasleysprofessionalhoe​​ @freddie-weaselbee​​ @daydreamgirl8​​ @jubilee-the-flying-dragon-pirate​
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186 notes · View notes
duuhrayliegh · 3 years
Text
Fuck Misogyny
request: Bucky uses his newly gained knowledge of feminism to squash misogynistic interview questions. @ptrs-prkrs
warnings: language, creepy men, feminist!bucky
a/n: hey babes!! i hope this lived up to what you wanted! i couldn’t find the exact video you were referencing but i know what you’re talking about, so i drew inspiration from a few others.
p.s.: my requests and tag lists are open!!
xoxo ray
full m.list
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The set up was simple. A long row of fold out tables covered in black fabric, microphones in front of each seat. Black papers were taped to the backs of the microphones with each team member's name. Bucky had told Evie that he wasn’t going to be able to work out with her today because of this so it better be worth it. The PR manager for the team, Amanda, had set everything up. Hired the mediator, notified the press, everything. Ever since they announced that they were going to be hosting an Avenger’s Q&A Panel, the internet quite literally broke.
Of course Bucky had been doing lives on TikTok with the group of five for the past couple of weeks now, so he was becoming quite comfortable in this format. He’s become increasingly active on his social media accounts, gaining more and more followers everyday. Granted, there were still haters, as Freddie called them, but Bucky ignored them for the most part.
Bucky was actually excited for this press meeting. He was finally gaining traction in the media and he knew how to correctly answer their questions. As Amanda had explained, there was going to be several questions from the mediator, tons from the press that they had invited, and then some fan questions as well. They apparently were going to be live streaming the conference on YouTube allowing them to read the comments and questions as it went on.
“Okay, everyone. You have two minutes until we start.” The team was in an empty board room in the Hilton hotel. Tony didn’t want everyone on the compound’s grass because he just had it fixed. Bucky scanned his fellow teammates. It was impossible for everyone to dress for the same event. Steve was wearing a shirt that was almost bursting at the seams with a pair of jeans and sneakers.
Tony was wearing a lovely Tom Ford, three piece, two-button, of course. Natasha and Wanda were wearing ripped jeans and casual tops. Vision was wearing a sweater vest and slacks, Bruce was clad in slacks as well a jacket covering his shoulders. Sam was wearing a button-up shirt and pressed jeans and he couldn’t find Clint anywhere, probably hiding in the rafters again.
Bucky had his iconic leather jacket donning his shoulders, a pair of slightly ripped jeans. His outfit was picked out by Cassie and Penny. “You need to look like you care but like you don’t at the same time.” Is what they said, the phrase made Bucky shake his head. His hair had finally started growing back and he wasn’t quite sure how he felt about it.
He had gotten help from Evie before he left Cassie’s apartment. She had pulled back the top half, braiding back two sections into the bun at the back of his head. There were pieces dangling in front of his eyes, “to accentuate the facial features, trust me they’ll love it.” Was Evie’s explanation as they pushed him out of the apartment, so he wouldn’t be late.
“Alright guys! They’re calling your names!” The team filed out of the board room and into a large ballroom. Bottles of water were placed beside each placemat. Tony went out first, followed by Steve, then Bruce, Natasha, Clint, Wanda, Vision, Sam and ending with Bucky. They all settled into their seats, Bucky peeled his jacket off himself, placing it on the back of his chair. His black short sleeved shirt highlighted the gold inlays of his vibranium arm.
“Oh, I see we’re showing some muscle today huh, Buck?” Sam teased as Bucky took his seat next to him. Bucky groaned in realization, covering his microphone so it didn’t pick up what he planned to say.
“Good God, is this what it’s going to be like the entire panel? You just bugging the shit outta me?” They shared a laugh making the rest of the members look at the pair. The audience clapped as they were introduced and continued clapping as they assembled before them.
“Thank you. We would like to welcome everyone to the first, of hopefully many, Avenger’s Q&A Panel.” The female mediator, Stacey, read the assigned lines off the sheet on her podium. “We are going to start with questions we curated for the team and then open it up to the members of the press. After that we will turn to our live stream and answer some viewer questions.” The press rustled in their seats, pulling out pens and journals as well as their phones to record. “Okay, starting off with a question directed at the Avengers in general. How are you feeling about coming before the media in this type of format?” Glances were exchanged between the members, not sure on who was going to start.
“I feel that this is a great way for the general public to learn a little bit more about each individual team member.” Vision was the first to respond and Steve added on.
“Yeah, I definitely think that there’s a common misconception that we don’t want to engage with the media or the general public. We do, unfortunately due to the amount of research and training that we are doing behind the scenes, it just goes to the back of our minds.”
“Right. So Tony and Bruce, we all know that you two are geniuses. What are your feelings on expanding the teachings of STEM courses to not only high school, but as far back as elementary school or even kindergarten?” The pair thought about the question before answering.
“Well, I definitely think that offering STEM-based classes at a younger age would be beneficial, especially if we were to allow the kids to continue to switch what they want to focus on.” Bruce started. “It’s incredibly anxiety-inducing for teenagers to have to decide what they’re going to do with their life right before they are thrust into an unforgiving world.”
“Yeah, I’ll never understand why we do that to our future leaders, it’s honestly baffling. Why do American schools wait until high school to require our children to learn foriegn languages, they aren’t going to retain that information. The same applies for such comprehensive courses like STEM-based ones. If you wait until their brains are already developed so far, then they’ve already decided what they think is interesting and if they don’t find those courses interesting then they aren’t going to pay attention.” Tony finished Bruce's thought before nodding to each other smugly, obviously proud of themselves for answering the question so well.
“Interesting that you see it that way. This last one goes out to everyone and then we’ll open it up to the reporters. How do you deal with the stress and anxiety that comes with being an Avenger? Do you feel a certain amount of pressure to always do the right thing?” Stacey shuffled her papers, tapping them twice on the podium.
“We all have our own routines and ways that we decompress after missions so that really just depends on the person. Like I think that Bruce listens to opera music, and Wanda mediatates, Tony tinkers. It depends on the person.” Natasha answered concisely, making Bucky nod his head. He could recall all of those things to be true.
“Oh definitely, and it doesn’t hurt that we have a former VA Trauma Counselor on board to help us work through the harder stuff.” Steve added a gesture of his head to Sam.
“Speaking of that Sam, just a quick question before we open it up. How difficult was it for you to transition from regular Air Force missions to Avenger level missions?” Sam made a face at Stacey before answering.
“Um, I mean, it’s not that different. You’re always fighting one of the Big Three-- aliens, androids, or wizards, no matter what department you’re working with. The only transition I had to deal with was the Tony Stark-erized suits. Now that I think of it, Tony, can we make it tighter?” Sam quipped making the room laugh with ease.
“Alright, well now we’re going to open it up to the reporters. Starting with this gentleman in the front and then if we could also give a microphone to someone on that side of the room. Okay, thank you.” The first reporter stood up, holding the microphone in one hand and his phone in the other.
“Hello. John from Huffington Post. The Avengers inspire almost everyone around the world, so we would like to know who inspires you? Who do you look up to in terms of your idols?” He sat back down as the team contemplated their answers.
“Gandhi.” Bruce said, Tony snapped his fingers and pointed at him then added. “Pepper, she’s so amazing.” Steve looked down to Bucky, who shrugged.
“I would probably have to say that my sister, Sarah, inspires me. She raised her two sons, Cas and AJ, by herself after the Blip and was able to keep the family business going.” Sam’s answer made Bucky smile. Sam had brought him to their house in Delacroix, he remembered waking up to Cas and AJ playing in the kitchen, happy giggles filtering through reminding him of his time in Wakanda. By the time that Bucky had refocused on the conversation they had moved on without his answer. Several different questions went by, all directed to the team at large, until Chad.
“Hi, I’m Chad for the Daily Mail. My question is for Wanda and Natasha.” The pair of women perked up, excited to have a specific question. “Do you find that your equipment hinders you in doing your job as well as your male counterparts?” Stunned expressions settled over the womens faces, then annoyance. Bucky’s brows shot up to his hairline, appalled that someone had the balls to ask that. Wanda and Natasha handled the question with grace and much more restraint than Bucky would have.
“Well for me, I am able to move things with my mind so I can throw things randomly at people even if I’m not in the room. I’ve been very fortunate to work with Natasha who has Widow training, so my hand to hand combat is improving immensely. And being able to work with Princess Shuri in Wakanda to learn how to fully control my powers. It’s an ever evolving process that I’m always excited to take on.” Bucky nodded and turned his attention to Natasha.
“My favorite thing is training with either Steve or Bucky because they push me to do my best. We all have our specialties here and it’s nice to learn new skills or improve old ones with people who support you.” Natasha sat back in her chair, crossing her arms over her chest, throwing daggers with her eyes at Chad in the audience, waiting for him to say something else. Chad stood again, yelling so he could be heard over the crowd’s commotion.
“That’s great, ladies, but forgive me, you didn’t answer the question I asked.” Bucky pushed forward in his seat, leaning into his microphone.
“I’m sorry, I think I misunderstood what you asked them then. I would like for you to clarify what you mean by equipment.” Chad balked, not expecting a male’s voice to respond.
“You know what’s implied by equipment, sir.” Bucky’s jaw clenched at the man.
“Did you just ask two of the most capable women that I’ve ever known, if their equipment, which I’m assuming you’re referring their breasts, made it to where they couldn’t do their job as good as the rest of their male counterparts. Just to be clear, that’s what you’re asking?” Chad stuttered as he answered yes.
“Right, well first off that’s disgusting. Just a bit of background for you, Wanda is the strongest Avenger here, plain and simple. As for Natasha, she’s the smartest woman I’ve ever met and she can take down every single male here.” Bucky took a breath before continuing. “So, what I think you really want to know is how they encourage their teammates to keep up with them.” He dropped his head to look at the two women down the line.
“Don’t worry Chad, I’ll ask them the right question, since you can’t quite seem to understand how to respect women.” The team was holding back snickers at Chad’s reaction. “Wanda, Natasha. Chad wants to know how the hell you push your male teammates to be just as good as you are. What are your strategies to keep us on our toes while training?” Claps sounded from the women press members and Bucky awaited the pair's response. The next press member stood and asked a question.
“Hi, I’m Chloe from Vanity Fair. This question goes to everyone on the panel.” Bucky settled in for another question that didn’t matter. “How do you continue to be aware of things happening in our society today? Do you keep up-to-date through new channels, or social media?” The answers were rather generic from the team, all of them rather uncomfortable from the tension that Bucky and Chad had created. Stacey interrupted after Chloe’s question.
“Okay, we’re going to open it up to viewer questions from our live stream.” An iPad was placed on the podium in front of Stacey and her eyebrows rose. “Okay, there’s quite a variety here. Here’s one for Steve and Bucky.” Bucky perked up, nervous to answer because his adrenaline had worn off.
“One viewer asks, ‘Steve and Bucky, being from the 40’s, women were treated like second thoughts and were talked about like objects. Now, you’re in the 21st century, not much has changed. What have you been doing to support feminist causes?’”
“I just want to say that everyone should be answering this. It’s true that during the 40’s women were not treated the right way, and they still aren’t today. An 18 year old can’t walk down the street at nine o’clock at night without being catcalled. I am a proud feminist, as everyone should be. I think that as a team we are doing pretty well in that department. As far as what I’m doing to support feminist causes, I’m doing as much as I can. I actually recently enrolled in online classes to expand my knowledge on many subjects, seeing as how I am from the 40’s and all.” The crowd laughed along with Bucky.
“Almost all of my classes have to do with either psychology or gender studies, it’s a fascinatingly haunting subject. One book that I’m reading right now was suggested to me by my friend Cassie, it’s called Hood Feminism: Notes from the Women that a Movement Forgot. The author doesn’t let up and I’m only halfway through it. Look, I’m still educating myself, but I’m a strong believer in doing what is right for everyone, so I’m trying. Thankfully I have a few people keeping me in check as far as my actions.” Bucky thought his response was well thought out for being an on the fly question. He was new to the concept of feminism but that didn’t change the fact that it made total sense.
“I’m with Bucky on this. The 40’s were a rough time. I remember the first time I met Peggy Carter, I was astonished that a woman could be in such a powerful position. One of the first things she did after I met her was punch out someone who made a sexual comment to her. I’ve been supporting feminist causes ever since working with Peggy.” Steve added, a sad smile spreading on his face reminiscing Peggy.
“This one says, ‘As a total fan of all of you, I love seeing what you post on your social media accounts. When are the rest of the Avengers going to follow Bucky’s lead and download TikTok?’” Bucky’s head flew back into a full body laugh. Tony shifted forward in his seat, pointing his finger at the laughing man down the table.
“I would just like to say he didn’t get that approved before doing it. However, it did go over really well, so we’ll consider it.” Wanda’s mouth rolled inwards, stifling her laughter.
“We’ll consider it, you’re such an old man. Most of us have TikTok already, we just don’t make content on it like Barnes over here.” Sam said, tossing his head in Bucky’s direction.
“I’ve got like three videos on there!” Bucky and Sam began bantering back and forth.
“Yeah and one of them is dancing to a Cardi B song! Who even showed you that? I thought you only like 40’s music?” Bucky made a face at the man.
“Uh, just because I didn’t like your suggestions for music doesn’t mean I don’t have taste. My Spotify playlist is filling out quite nicely, Wilson.” Bucky and Sam didn’t quit fighting from then on, just little jabs at each other under the table.
“Here’s a good one,” Stacey had a smile on her face, “Are you allies of the LGBTQ+ community?” Bucky responded quickly with no hesitation.
“Yes, many of my friends are members of the Alphabet Mafia. Why wouldn’t we be?” Wanda nodded at his question, laughing at his use of the phrase Alphabet Mafia.
“Yeah, absolutely. I mean, I’m dating a fucking android, I’d be pretty hypocrictal if I wasn’t an ally. Nat, Clint what about you?” Clint bobbed his head in response.
“Oh yeah. We all are, even the Star Spangled Man with a Plan.” Steve’s shoulders shook with laughter at Clint’s nickname for him. The team broke out into laughter, joining Steve. Stacey cleared her throat, commanding the attention of the room again.
“Alright, everybody! That’s it for today.” She glanced down at her papers. “We would like to thank everyone for coming out today and joining the Avengers Q&A Panel. At this time we are unaware, if we will be conducting another one of these, but the odds look good based on the response.” The team filed out of the ballroom and into the empty boardroom. Bucky was the last to get into the room and he was approached by Natasha and Wanda immediately. Wanda wrapped her arms around him in a bear hug.
“That was so sick, Bucky!” She stepped back and Natasha offered him a side hug as well. “Where’d you learn all that? And since when are you taking online classes?”
“That guy was being an asshole, he needed to be put in his place. I hope you guys didn’t feel like I overstepped or anything.” Bucky hung his arm over Wanda’s shoulder, leaning his weight on her. “And I started about two months ago. They’re going really well, I’m learning a lot and enjoying it surprisingly. It’s a good thing to do in my free time since I’m not always on missions.”
“I’m proud of you James, that was impressive.” Natasha complimented him, she wasn’t usually a woman of many words so that was a lot. Bucky smiled at her, nodding his head. His phone began buzzing in his back pocket, so he excused himself from their conversation. His screen displayed one of Evie’s senior pictures, signalling that she was calling him. He pushed the green button and brought the phone to his ear to answer her call.
“Hello?” She ignored his greeting with a squeal.
“Check your Twitter! Bucky, you’re trending! Here I’m putting you on speaker, we’re all here Buck!” Shuffling noises were heard through the speaker as Evie began reading the tweets to Bucky. Laughs from Cassie, Freddie and Penny could be heard behind Evie’s voice.
“Oh my gosh Eve! Just let the man get back to what he was doing!” Freddie yelled at an excited Evie, who retaliated with a scoff.
“Okay, okay! Just remember we have a movie night tomorrow! It’s Penny’s turn to pick so we don’t know what to expect.” Evie mumbled the last part into her phone speaker. Bucky heard the impact of a pillow hit Evie, causing her to grunt in pain. “Okay! We’ll talk to you later, Buck! See you soon!” She hung up the phone before he could get a word in edgewise. Bucky shook his head as he shoved his phone back into his pocket. Amanda approached Bucky asking to speak with him privately.
“So we’re getting a flood of interview requests from networks and papers. We would like to start running with this. We’ll have to go over everything with our PR guy, Ryan, but it should work out. As long as you’re comfortable with all of this.” Bucky smiled and nodded, following after Amanda as she continued explaining what would happen going forward.
He was nervous, of course, but he could tell these nerves were coming from a place of excitement instead of fear, which was a new sensation for the man. It wasn’t unwelcome, it was the same as when he first started hanging out with Cassie, Penny, Freddie and Evie. It was the same when he went on his first mission with the team. Bucky was ready to tackle this next adventure, whatever it would entail.
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meph1stophelian · 3 years
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He’s a Slytherin, Traitor/ Ch.4
Slytherin!Fred Weasley x Slytherin!Reader
Warnings: Cursing, Pranks, food? and some angst ( Since Fred’s dumb af)
Word Count: 5000
A/N: I’m so happy somehow y’all are liking those series, because I was so insecure especially because of changing the house of Fred. Anyways sorry for late updates, I somehow seem to be a little slower in writing than I thought I’d be but HEY! at least it’s a big chapter.!! Also! if you would like to you can request any character, since my requests are always open. (I hope I didn’t miss anyone from the taglist, if so please inform or if you’re a part of permanent taglist and don’t want to be tagged on this particular series, also just ask to be added to the taglist)
Chapter 3: Jesters
Permanent Taglist:  @just-here-to-escape-from-reality, @rogue-barnes-durin--mainblog, @freds-slut, @weasleytwinsimpp
He’s a Slytherin, Traitor Taglist: @lucymfer, @blackqueens01, @hvstias, @traveleraroundsworld, @iamnibbsi, @gaycatlord-stuff​
Main Masterlist    Prompt List
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The next morning screams and yells of first years woke you up. You sit up in your bed, trying to rub sleep away from your eyes as Patricia Stimpson, your dormmate did the same. 
“Your work again?” She gave you an annoyed look, since she never was a morning person.
“Might be” You smirked and got out of your bed, quickly taking care of yourself as Patricia groaned and went back to sleep.
You made your way downstairs as you were fully dressed in your uniform. The common room was filled with first years who were covered in boils all over their body, almost trying to jump out of their clothes.
You smirked once more as you saw shirtless Marcus Flint running out of the common room, his skin breaking in boils.
“Your work stormy?” Terrance Higgs questioned as he leaned on a wall next to you, arms crossed in front of his chest.
“Might be” You shrugged with a grin as you saw boys coming downstairs.
“Haven fun until I’m here, I doubt next year Flint will let it all slip” Terrance murmured and left as  your boys approached.
“Hello boys” You greeted with a tempting voice as they all smirked.
“Hello M’Lady” Fred bowed down and took your hand to kiss the back of it. 
You tried your best not to blush but it was useless. Your cheeks turned crimson red and of course Fred noticed as he winked at you.
“Whoever did it! MY FATHER WILL HEAR ABOUT IT!” High pitched screams of Draco were heard from his dorm.
You and your friends started cackling as Fred swung his arm around your shoulders and led you out of the common room. Cassius and Adrian right behind you giving each other suspicious looks.
As the four of you reached the great hall, your cheeks were fully red and the level of contact. Fred was always touchy but this was too much even for him, especially the kiss on the cheek he gave you as the four of you sat down in your respectful seats.
“Oi there Fred” Cassius started as Fred’s hand stayed around your shoulders. “Why are you so touchy around her?”
“yeah, you’ve got a crush or something?” Adrian pushed and started chuckling along with Cassius, as you shrugged uncomfortably, trying to get rid of his grip.
“So what if I have?” Fred responded with a grin as he put a strand of your hair behind your ear with his free hand, making your neck and ears turn the same color as your cheeks.
“Maybe you should pull away?” you tried to push him away and he obeyed not wanting to make you uncomfortable.
“I’m only joking, stormy” He said as he ruffled your hair and as you were about to relax in your seat, he leaned closer, tilting his head to the side as he wiggled his eyebrows “Unless..”
“Fred!” You squealed as you smacked him lightly, your cheeks burning all over again.
Fred moved away and Adrian gave the two of you a knowing look as Fred poured you some orange juice.
Awkward silence formed at the breakfast, but as few first year Gryffindors started to enter the great hall, laughter making your heads snap into the direction. 
All of the first years skin was colored silver as their hair was emerald green, but you also saw that George, Angelina and Lee looked the same as first years.
“Freddie?” You questioned and he hummed leaning closer in response. “Did you do this?”
He hummed again as he looked at your sparkling eyes.
“Are you impressed?” He asked, grinning as his brothers started to approach.
“Very” You whispered only for him to hear. “Is this the reason behind it all?”
“Might be” He winked and before he could lean back into his seat you pressed your lips to his cheek quickly, making him blush a little.
“Stop the snogging” You header behind the two of you, voice very familiar.
“Oh hey there George!” Fred turned around with a smirk “Couldn’t recognize you today, you look...” Fred paused for a dramatic second “Very serpent like” He finished and your friend group started to cackle.
“Ha! Knew it!” George pointed his finger into Fred’s face with a huge grin.
“Aww, poor little Weasley” you started as you took a peek behind George to see a furious Ron “Didn’t make it to Slytherin and now you trying to be like your big brother?” You cooed with a pout as Ron furrowed his eyebrows.
“Bloody hell, Stormy don’t be such a snake” Fred said in mocking voice as both of you erupted into laughter, Ron leaving for the Gryffindor table with George on his tale.
“Thanks..” Fred whispered to you as the laughter died.
“For what?” You questioned confused as you leaned closer.
“For putting Ron in his place? You always stand up for me and I don’t even understand why”
“Obviously because you’re my best friend” You laughed awkwardly not knowing if it was a complete truth.
“Yeah..” He joined your awkward laugh “Obviously..”
“I THOUGHT I WAS YOUR BEST FRIEND” Adrian yelled as he leaned closer to the two of you, almost knocking off his glass full of pumpkin juice.
“Merlin’s beard!” You jumped at Adrian’s reaction “You’re my best friend too, Fred’s just..” You cut yourself not to say something stupid, that you’ll definitely regret.
“He’s a different best friend” Cassius finished for you making you blush as Fred’s eyes were fixed on your face, while you tried to look straight at Cassius.
“Meaning?” Fred questioned now looking at Cassius.
“Meaning she fan-”
“Meaning NOTHING!” You interrupted Cassius. He was the most quiet one of the group yet noticed everything.
“Is there something you guys are keeping a secret from me?” Fred questioned playfully to cover up a fact that people he thought were his best friends, were hiding some things from him.
“Actually yes” Adrian started trying to change the subject as you gave him a death glare.
Fred felt a little burning feeling in his throat, of course they didn’t trust Fred, he was from a family of Gryffindors after all. He tried to ignore the bitter feeling, but it was hard with all the bickering that started between you and Adrian.
“You have no right of telling him something that is not your business and you don’t know for sure!” You raised your voice, thinking Adrian was about to expose something you didn’t even want to admit to yourself.
“We talked about it!” Adrian yelled back, the topic he was thinking about, being completely different.
“Adrian Pucey if you say another world I will-” You were abut start with your threats when you got interrupted with a calm yet sad voice.
“It’s okay” Fred said getting up from his seat “I understand, you don’t have to tell me” he finished and left.
“What is wrong with you!” Adrian whisper yelled, throwing a cinnamon roll at you across the table.
“What is wrong with you!” You whisper yelled back, tossing the roll back at him.
“What is wrong with both of you” Cassius said simply as he stood up to follow Fred.
Fred and Cassius has somehow bonded the way you and Adrian were, not that all four of you were close, ti was just Adrian and you had different friendship, than you and Cassius and especially you and Fred. So did Fred, he was close to Adrian obviously, but he was more close to Cassius. 
Fred enjoyed Cassius’ company a lot, mainly because of his brutal honesty. Fred knew Cassius had no filter and he could care less to even try and lie to someone. This is exactly what Fred needed. Someone who is nice to him not out of pity but because they genuinely like him.
Fred’s friendship with Cassius was different from his friendship with any of you, but was similar to the relationship he held with his twin brother. 
Cassius and Fred even had their own inside jokes and they were never scared to say everything into each other’s face, knowing damn well none would get offended.
“I was about to tell him he passed the test of pranks, not that you’re bloody in love with him!” Adrian exhaled through his nose as he pinched it between his eyes.
“Oh..” The shame overcame you until you realized what he said. “I’M NOT BLODDY IN LOVE WITH HIM, DON’T BE DISGUSTING” You raised your voice, obtaining unwanted attention.
“Whatever you say Stormy” He added getting up as you followed “You owe him” 
“I don’t owe him anything!” You raised your hands in the air as the two of you made your way to the dungeons.
“Did you see the look on his face?” Adrian grabbed your arm to stop you in your tracks. “You made him insecure, he’s a Weasley in Slytherin” he started and you rolled your eyes as if you didn’t know.
“You were the first to befriend him and always had his back, yet you made him overthink that he even belongs with us, especially now that he is already that important to all three of us” Adrian continued as he let go of your arm.
“He’s a Weasley and a Slytherin and a very cocky, confident person, bold of you to assume his huge ego could have gotten affected that easily. He’s a very tough guy and you know that, someone’s words don’t just affect him that much” You answered as you continued making your way into the dungeons.
“But you’re not just someone” Adrian mumbled as he caught up to you “You need to understand that you actually have a very strong effect on him, you were the one that stood up for him from the beginning, you are very important to him”
“You don’t know that” you mumbled blushing as you reached the common room entrance.
“We share a dorm, believe it or not, we do talk without you around us, a lot to be honest” Adrian smirked as he entered the common room.
You were about to shower Adrian in questions but got interrupted by screams of a little girl. Both Adrian and you rushed into the common room, searching for the little girl but ended up laughing on the floor as you saw Malfoy was the one screaming. 
Fred and Cassius were throwing a bottle of water over his head, while Draco was stuck in the middle trying to catch it, his tongue out with a little whole in it which you assumed was caused by an acid pop.
“Give him the water!” You heard little girls voice as you saw little miss Parkinson pouting with teary eyes. 
“Boys, enough” You said as you got up from the floor and reached the messing duo.
“Fine!” Cassius was about to give Draco the bottle but he tossed it back at Fred who quickly opened it and added something out of the blue and purple pack before giving the bottle to Draco.
“Thank you” Pansy mumbled and rushed to Draco, but before she could take more than one step the water bottle was filled with worms.
“Will your father hear about this?” Fred mocked as he high fived Cassius and they both flopped on the leather couch, as Malfoy cried out and ran to Hospital wing, Parkinson on his tail. 
“Whizzing worms” Fred mumbled as he looked up at your confused face, as if you didn’t know what product he used.
“I know” You responded more harsh than you intended to.
“Woah chill Stormy” Cassius laughed and you were amused how different he was around Fred.
Yes Cassius was fun and always in for some pranks, but you couldn’t help but notice how he laughed more when Fred was around or how it was just him and Fred. 
You also remembered how overprotective Fred was over Adrian too. Yes he had a very strong and positive bond with Cassius, but he had even more different friendship with Adrian. Adrian was not short, but Fred and Cassius were noticeably taller then him and especially you. 
It might have been the height difference or maybe something else but Fred was acting like Adrian’s big brother. Him and Cassius looked like your and Adrian’s bodyguards when the four of you were roaming the corridors. 
Fred would never let anyone talk shit about Adrian and the rest of you. He might take a lot of shit from Slytherins and even Gryffindors, but when it came to Adrian and you, he would go out of his mind and merlin save the person he was targeting with his pranks.
Fred was forming a strong bond with Slytherins, he was filling the gap in your crew and this is why you decided he deserved something big.
You whispered in Cassius ear to distract Fred for the rest of the day before grabbing Adrian by his arm and leading to your dorm.
“Easy woman!” He mocked as you threw him to your bed and opened your truck. “What are you up to stormy?” he questioned as soon as he saw the marauder’s map.
“I owe him a welcoming party into our crew of raiders” You answered as you opened the map.
“Raiders?” Adrian gave you a funny look “Raiders have different morals than us” Adrian smirked.
“Oh? And what are our morals mister Pucey?” You smirked back after charming the map to show Hogwarts.
“We are like four horsemen of apocalypse” He started carefully with a devilish smirk as he leaned closer to look down at the map. “We are showmen, we are Jesters!”
It took the two of you 5 hours to sneak to Hogsmeade to get some sweets from Honeydukes, some prank products from Zonko’s and few bottles of butterbeer from three broomsticks, not to mention being extremely carefully to not run into either Fred or teachers and prefects.
You two somehow managed to carry all of those things to boys dorm where the four of you are going to party.
“You know” Adrian started as he was putting luminous balloons all around the room. “I’m glad we got a Weasley, he’s hilarious”
“I’m glad too” You smiled to yourself as you mumbled the sentence not sure what the tingling feeling was in your stomach. 
You put a little green blanket in the middle of the room and you were decorating it with some sweets from Honeydukes. In particular, there were few packages of Bertie Bott's Every Flavour Beans, Charm Chocs, Chochoballs, chocolate frogs all around big cauldron cake which was settled in the middle of the blanket along with few bottles of butterbeer.
“Okay what do we have here” Adrian started roaming through his bag, checking the products he got at the Zonko’s. “Inflatable Tongues, Whizzing Worms, Hiccough Sweets, Frog Spawn Soaps and..” 
“Acid pops, straight from Honeydukes” You finished his sentence as you put the lollipops into his bag.
“I think we ready?” He questioned and put his wand to his neck, probably to use as a mic as he whistled, giving signal to Cassius who was already in the common room distracting Fred from getting into their dorm.
Few moments later there was knock on the door followed with some muffled noises.
“Tornado, what are you up to mate” You heard Fred’s voice as Adrian got up from the blanket to open the door. 
“Surprise!” the three of you squealed at the same time as Cassius uncovered Fred’s eyes and showed him into the dorm quickly not to drawn any attention.
“Bloody hell!” Fred said shocked as he entered the dark room, only lit by luminous balloons. “Guys it’s not my birthday yet” 
“We know you’re the real fool here, but we wanted to welcome you into the club Jesters, which is not really a club, but you got the idea right?” Adrian responded as he pushed Fred to sit down next to you.
“Jesters? That’s what we are called now?” Cassius questioned as he tried to grab a piece of cauldron cake, but you were quick to smack his hand.
“First slice is Fred’s” You warned and Cassius took a chocolate frog instead, with a very terrified face as you offered Fred a slice of chocolate cake.
“Thanks” He mumbled with a smile. “For all of these”
“Oh no mister!” You started as you got up from your seat “That’s not all”
You pulled some prank products from Adrian’s bag that you bought for Fred separately. You handed the products to him and his eyes were full of sparkles.
He dropped the products next to him on the floor and captured you in a quick hug after bumping fists with Adrian and Cassius.
“Does this mean I’m forgiven?” you questioned as you rubbed your neck awkwardly after Fred let go to dig in his piece of cake. “For being rude and keeping this as a secret from you”
“Oh yeah, totally” He responded with a mouth full of cake, making you chuckle.
You watched how Fred’s eyes sparkled with happiness and mischief as the four of you were planning pranks for the whole year, how Cassius had let his guard down and was his natural self, still brutally honest but at least he was smiling, laughing and cracking some jokes, how Adrian was radiating the positive energy and warmth as he peeked looks at you, winking at you while nodding to Fred’s direction when he was not looking.
Time passed and you have never felt so welcome and home as you felt with your three best friends.
After half of the sweets eaten and all of the butterbeer gone you decided to make the party more interesting. It was long past curfew and you knew you had to sneak back into your dorm soon, but you couldn’t miss out on the oppurtunity.
“Time to reveal our secrets” You squealed as you leaned your back to Fred’s bed, his head dropping in your lap as he laid on his back on the floor.
“What do you have in mind?” Fred asked with a smirk as he started to play with a hem of your jumper, while your hands automatically found their way into his locks.
“For example, when was the last time you lied?” Cassius said with a smirk, his eyes switching between you and Fred.
“Today” You answered quickly not realizing were the question could go.
“What about?” Cassius questioned as Fred looked up at your face a little too curious.
“Per person, per question” You smirked and waited for other to reply.
“Well, I think I lied this morning too?” Adrian made a face as he started to think, furrowing his eyebrows.
“I lied today too” Fred chuckled as everyone waited for the next question.
“How about when was the last time you cried?” You said as clockwise it was your turn after Cassius.
“When I was 3″ Fred wiggles his eyebrows proud of himself.
“Same” Cassius said as he fist bumped Fred. These two were somehow the same person sometimes.
“I think a year ago, when my grandmother died” Adrian responded with a sad smile.
“I’m so sorry Adrian” You said sympathetically and boys offered him a sad smile as well.
“Who’s next?” He questioned, not wanting to stop on the topic.
“Me!” Fred said and sit up from your lap quickly. “What’s your biggest fear?”
“Who are you, boggart?” Cassius joked making the three of you burst into laughter. “I.. Well I’m scared of Darkness” He said in a more serious tone a little embarrassed.
“We know” Adrian said simply, as they always would leave a little light on for Cassius.
“Welp I didn’t know” You said puzzled, seems boys do share things with each bother even when you’re not around. 
You noticed how your reaction made boys a little tense so you decided to ease the atmosphere.
“Well, I’m afraid of heights” You said with the most serious tone you could pull.
“Yeah, sure” boys laughed “And I’m afraid of flying” Fred added and all four of you were chuckling.
“I’m afraid of spiders” Adrian said with disguise.
“My little brother Ron has the same phobia” Fred laughed “I always turn his stuff into spiders”
“Don’t even try that with me, I’ll hex you” Adrian said quickly.
“No mate, don’t piss me off and you won’t get those little babies” Fred started and he quickly took his wand and transformed one of empty bottles into a spider. “Crawling in your bed”
Adrian screamed like a banshee and quickly jumped on his bed, terrified as Fred transformed the spider back into an empty bottle, while Cassius and you were cackling.
“Asshole” Adrian mumbled as he got back to his seat.
“What about you stormy?” Fred leaned closer to you “What are you scared of?”
“Flowers?” He asked as he transformed the bottle into a bouquet and handed you.
“Amphibians?” He asked just as you were about to take flowers, turning bouquet into a slimy amphibian, making you snatch your hands away.
“Needles?” Another transfiguration spell.
“Peanut butter?” He finished with a cackle and turned the jar of peanut butter back into an empty butterbeer bottle.
“I’m afraid of being alone” You responded after the laughter died, your words coming darker than expected.
“Well that was dark” Adrian sighed “My turn” he tried to ease the tension as Fred eyed you with question marks visible in his eyes.
“Who was your first kiss?” Adrian asked, knowing damn well he didn’t have to answer, scared to reveal the name of Hufflepuff’s seeker.
“Pfft, easy” Fred chuckled “Angelina Johnson of course” He said and you could feel jealousy creeping out of the darker corned of your mind. You were so dazed out imagining Fred’s lips glued to Angelina’s instead of yours, that you couldn’t hear Cassius answer, meaning tit was your turn.
“Y/N?” Cassius questioned as Fred snapped his fingers in front of your eyes.
“Yeah?” You gulped trying not to look terrified.
“Who was your first kiss?” Adrian asked again.
“I.. well..” You gulped, eyes roaming around the room. “Well I never had one” you mumbled hoping 
“What?” Fred asked loudly a little shocked but somehow very happy about it.
“Yeah.. I have never been kissed” You said blushing as you looked down to your lap.
“You’re just waiting for a right person” Adrian tried to cheer you up.
“Well.. that’s” Cassius started.
“Sweet and embarrassing” Fred finished as he and Cassius started laughing.
“I think it’s time for me to leave” You mumbled but none of the two heard, except Adrian who followed you to the door, giving you an apologetical smile.
On the next morning you woke up with a strange feeling. You felt like vomiting but it was somehow a mental state.
“What’s up?” Patricia questioned as she fixed her outfit, already ready to leave for breakfast.
“Who was your first kiss?” You asked as you sit up in your bed.
“If you’ll keep this embarrassing secret, I’ll tell you” She said as she turned to you.
“Cassius Warrington” She said after you nodded, leaving you speechless as she turned back to the full length mirror before leaving you alone with your thoughts.
You made your way down to the common room as you were fully ready for your educational day, boys waiting for you along with Patricia.
“Hey Stormy” Adrian said as you stood behind Fred and Cassius sprawled on a leather couch, Adrian and Patricia seated on the opposite one.
“Hi” You answered trying to pretend s if nothing happened, as if you weren’t the only one who didn’t had first kiss.
“Off to breakfast” Cassius sighed too hungry to function.
You started making your way out of the crowded common room along with your friends as suddenly Fred stopped in his trunks.
“Almost forgot” He smirked as he turned back to face the common room full of students.
 “Guys” He yelled capturing everyone’s attention “Y/N, our miss perfect here has never kissed anyone!” He yelled and the whole common room erupted into laughter, as your mouth went dry.
“It’s very low of you Weasley” Patricia said as she tried to chase you but you were long gone, hiding into moaning Myrtle’s bathroom.
You pulled your knees to your chest as you sat on the floor, silent tears streaming down your face. Why would Fred to such a horrible thing to you? You thought you were best friends, you even hoped for something more deep down in your heart, but now all you felt was anger and embarrassment.
A whole week passed and you haven’t attended any classes yet. You were hiding either in your room, Patricia not letting any of the boys in or in the astronomy tower. If no Patricia you would have starved yourself, but she kept bringing you meals in bed. 
The two of you weren’t close, but she was a very loyal and caring person, which she rarely showed, but now was one of those times. Once a week she would bring a first year Pansy Parkinson with her who would bring you some sweets as she seemed to really like you, maybe even idolize. 
After two weeks of silence from you, Adrian and Patricia decided to confront Fred. 
“Apologize to her! It is all your fault, how dare you expose something that personal!” Patricia raised her voice as she made her way to Fred and Cassius who were messing with some prank products. 
“Oi Patty, why so furious” Cassius said as he placed a hand on Patricia’s shoulder.
She quickly smacked it away, bringing her wand to Cassius’ throat. 
“Don’t call me that!” She warned.
“Fred you made her miserable and this was very low of you, especially when she was the one who was always there for you” Adrian started causing Patricia to calm down and move her wand away.
“She’s just being dramatic” Fred shrugged, not wanting to admit he was wrong, but deep down he was missing you.
“It is a big deal for her! She was bullied and laughed at in the corridors, everyone kept mocking her! So you better fix it!” Patricia looked like as if she was about to explode. 
Meanwhile your friends were having an argument, Pansy was trying to drag you to the common room after braiding her short hair. 
“Pans, I really don’t feel like it” You whined as the little girl managed to drag you out of the room.
“Please! Let’s just play chess” She lied, knowing she had to bring you downstairs for Fred to apologize.
“FINE!” You heard Fred’s voice as you reached stairs. 
“Everyone listen up!” He yelled and you froze in your place, Pansy still tugging on your sleeve. “I have never kissed anybody too!” He announced and you were shocked with his words.
“Whoever had the audacity to laugh at Y/N! Leave her alone and bully me for not having my first kiss” He yelled again, whole common room listening to him “If you’re not scared of waking up in hospital wing of course!” He finished and started making his way to the stairs.
You realized he was coming straight into your direction and ran back to your dorm, leaving Pansy confused.
You closed your door and sat by an open window, trying to proceed the information. If you thought you were angry at him now you were furious, he made fun of you even though he hasn’t kissed anyone yet? 
You wanted to feel angrier but felt somehow relieved, knowing he never kissed Angelina, but what if he was lying? 
Your thought were interrupted with a soft knock on your door.
“Come in” You said not taking your eyes from the starry night, thinking it was Patricia.
“Can we talk?” You heard and your head snapped into the doorways direction, your eyes meeting Fred’s tall figure who has just closed the door.
You nodded carefully as you looked back out of the window, cold breeze hitting you naked arms.
“I’m really sorry for what I did” He said as he sat leaned on the desk next to you.
You silently nodded, hinting that apology was accepted.
“It’s so dumb” He chuckled after a moment of awkward silence.
“What do you mean?” You finally looked at him a little confused.
“The whole first kiss thing, how people get all freaked out over their first kiss.” He said with a low chuckle “It’s stupid”
“So you weren’t lying? You have never kissed anyone?” You questioned and Fred gave you a puzzled look. “Yeah I was eavesdropping” You added as if it was nothing.
“Nope, I lied about Angelina” He offered you a side smirk.
“Sometimes I wish I could get it out of the way, you know to stop worrying about it” You said with a little smile.
“Yeah me too” He responded.
“I-” Fred started but chuckled and looked down to his lap.
“What is it” 
“Nothing” He shook his head with a grin.
“Tell me” You insisted.
“It’s just..”
“Say it” You giggled at his shy smile.
“Okay” He sighed, not daring to look you in the eyes “I was just going to say that-”
“We should kiss?” You finished for him and he looked up at you with a surprised, yet terrified expression.
“You’re gonna hex me now, right?” He questioned with a scared expression.
“No” You answered simply.
“Well.. should we?” He tested the waters. ”Just to get over it” he added quickly still scared of you.
“Just to get over it!” You said moving closer to him “And after that we’re back to normal” 
“And we’re not gonna tell anyone” He sat up straight.
“Never” You agreed.
You were close enough for him to kiss you but both of you just stared at each other not knowing what to do along with a feeling of excitement secretly flowing through your bodies.
“Well.. Lean” You said brutally as he started to lean closer, eyes closing slowly. 
You leaned forward and finally were met with his lips. They tasted like cinnamon mixed with chocolate and you could barely hold yourself from biting. He was sweet, soft and totally melting in your touch.
As your lips stayed glued together Fred’s body was heating up more and more, starting with his neck, reaching his ears and cheeks. He has never felt something like that, he has never been kissed, but was sure that the fault was yours not the kiss itself.
You were sending electroshocks through his whole body as cold wind hit his muscles and he could never wished for someone better than you for his first kiss. Secretly he wished to be able to repeat it, this is why he stayed there as long as he could, not wanting it to be over.
After both of you ran out of breath, Fred finally moved back and you chased his lips a little, hoping he didn’t notice. 
You sat there awkwardly gazing everywhere but each other’s eyes.
“Well..” Fred started after an awkward silence “That was nice” 
“Yeah” you mumbled as he started to stand up “Nice..”
“Yeah..” He started taking tiny steps backwards.
“G-god work” You said awkwardly as you straightened up in your seat.
“Thank you, you too” He answered as he rubbed his flushed neck.
“Good Night, see you tomorrow?” He asked as he opened the door to leave.
“Yeah, see you tomorrow” You responded and it took him a moment to finally close the door and leave you alone to the warmth of his body still rushing through yours.
53 notes · View notes
ineloqueent · 3 years
Text
party for one
Roger Taylor x Reader
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synopsis: you’re not excited about your birthday, and have thus decided not to tell anyone about it. but then Roger finds out, and refuses to let it go.
warnings: swearing, drinking
word count: 2.8k
see moodboard here!
December, 1979
Turning thirty was not something you looked forward to.
It was a big number, the number at which everyone expected you to have your life together, be married and have children, have a steady job.
Well, you could check one of those boxes.
As the newly-appointed tour photographer for Queen, you were well-liked, and thus had no fears of unemployment in the near future.
You’d gotten quite close with the members of Queen over the past month, during the aptly-named Crazy Tour, sharing late nights and early mornings with the four musicians. Late nights and early mornings had a funny way of bringing out the true personalities of people, because lack of sleep meant that no one had a filter, and your mutual exhaustion had made you the best of friends with the band you were travelling with.
You liked to go dancing with John, when nobody else would, because Brian couldn’t dance for the life of him, and Roger hated disco, and Freddie was often busy.
You went with Brian to the science museums he wanted to visit in many of the cities where you stopped, because everyone else had had enough of his rambling. Brian was talkative when he was talking about something he cared about, and it was a sort of reprieve for you not to be the one talking— to tour managers, to publicists, to press, to the lighting department who spoke in riddles, to the security guards in various nations that did not speak English.
Freddie loved shopping, for anything and everything, and was ever so pleased to have a companion on his many expeditions in search of rare records, paintings, clothes.
And Roger… Well, Roger. What could you say about Roger?
Roger was the in-between moments. Not that he wasn’t around— because he was, and practically everywhere you looked— but because whenever things seemed to slow down, or grow drearily quiet, or when you stood at the eye of the storm that was the never-ending flood of work that came as part of your employment with Queen, Roger was there, with an easy smile and a striking insightfulness.
He became the quiet moments when he took you to see strange, foreign films on off-nights, showed you forgotten corners of sprawling cities across the continents, or called you over to read you a quote from whatever book was currently occupying his headspace.
One such night, you were sitting in the games room of a hotel, cleaning one of your cameras, as Brian and John attempted to beat one another’s pinball scores, as Freddie sat watching telly with a few friends, and a handful of crew members played an intense game of pool.
You had taken a seat on one of the two sofas in the room, leaving ample space, should someone else want to sit down, but Roger occupied an entire couch to himself, feet up at one armrest, head at the other. He’d been wearing headphones, plugged into a brand-new Sony Walkman portable cassette player, the one which both band and crew had gawked over when he’d first bought it, back in July. But now he took the headphones off, mussing his blonde hair— recently cropped— and sat up.
“Hey,” he said, and you looked up. “Come listen to this.”
With a small sigh, you carefully deposited your camera on the coffee table, and crossed over to the other side of the space to join Roger.
You flopped down at his side, and he looped his arm through yours, pushing his reading glasses up on his nose before softly clearing his throat.
“What is that feeling when you’re driving away from people,” he read quietly, “and they recede on the plain till you see their specks dispersing?”
“I don’t—”
“Shh,” Roger peered at you over his glasses, nudging your shoulder with his, “I’m not finished.”
“Oh,” you said. “Well, sorry. Go on, then.”
“It’s the too-huge world vaulting us,” Roger continued, “and it’s goodbye. But we lean forward to the next crazy venture beneath the skies.”
“It’s beautiful,” you murmured.
Roger smiled. “It’s us,” he said, and then said nothing more, until you relaxed into his side and sat there with him as he read in silence, and your eyes fell shut and your mind fell into a dream.
With the days, the tour went on, and as the date of your birthday approached, you took great care to pretend that it did not.
But your birthday had always been an ordeal for you, and you weren’t doing particularly well at hiding the sense of impending doom that came over you, when there was only a week until the day.
John noticed, that much was obvious, but said nothing, ever respectful of your personal matters as you were of his.
Brian noticed, but only asked what was wrong in such a roundabout way that you felt inclined to say he had not noticed at all, or was too polite to ask directly.
Freddie noticed, and asked outright what was bothering you, but he did so right before going onstage, and refused to perform before you had answered his question. So you answered, albeit untruthfully, with a hurried, “Nothing!” to make him get the fuck onstage.
And Roger noticed.
He caught your arm the day before your birthday, as they were all departing the stage in the wake of raucous cheers, a towel slung around his neck as he caught his breath from the physical exertion that was playing the drums. He pulled you off to the side before you could protest, before Freddie and the others could drag the both of you off to some party, and looked at you in such a way you thought he’d stare right through your very heart.
“What?!”
“What’s wrong?” he asked, folding his arms with an inquisitive expression.
“Wrong? Nothing’s wrong.”
Roger snorted. “‘Course it is. You’ve been like this for weeks. What’s the matter?”
You shrugged your shoulders in discomfort, avoiding his gaze. “It’s—”
“If you say nothing one more time, I’ll go get Brian and ask him to explain zodiacal light, and we’ll be stood here for literal hours before we can get any sort of food or drink or bed. So spit it out, because I worry about you, and I promise I’ll leave you alone.”
He stared you down, and you felt a sudden compulsion to embrace him for having cared enough to ask about you, to take the time to ask about you.
With a heavy sigh, you conceded your secrets to him, as simply as had you been a book he’d opened, intending to read from cover to cover.
“It’s my birthday—”
He frowned, “When?”
“Tomorrow—”
“Tomorrow?” Roger balked. “Why the bloody hell didn’t you tell us? We would have organised something!”
“No, no, I don’t want you to make a fuss—”
“Well, what if I want to make a fuss?”
“You want to—”
He grasped your hand, and with the contact, your heart clenched. “You deserve to be fussed over,” he told you, earnestly. “Don’t you get that?”
Your mouth had fallen open, and you now pressed your lips together, glancing down at the floor.
“No,” you mumbled. “I don’t get that.”
“And so you’ve been living your life wrong,” said Roger. “Get that into your head, love.”
It was strange, how words so simple could strike a chord, but there was a lump in your throat when you swallowed, and when you nodded, you couldn’t look at him.
“C’mon,” he said. “Let’s go back to the hotel. I’m sure you’re as tired as I am.”
You nodded again, avoiding his eyes, and he set off.
He didn’t let go of your hand.
You didn’t mind.
And as testament to Roger’s assertion, when you had parted from him and gone to your hotel room, you’d changed and fallen asleep as soon as your head had hit the pillow.
The following day was your birthday, and a day without a scheduled show, so you slept in. No one would miss you for a few hours, you thought, and indeed, no knocks roused you from your sleep until you got up, well into the afternoon.
You ran into Freddie in the hallway, and, suddenly possessed by the notion that you should do something fun on your birthday, even if no fuss was to be made, you asked Freddie if he wanted to go with you to see a movie, and where the others were, should they wish to come as well.
“No, sorry darling, I’ve got a thousand things to do before tomorrow, and I’m afraid I’ve got no idea where anyone else is.” He pursed his lips. “In fact, I’ve been looking for those three idiots for the better part of an hour.”
“That’s… rather strange,” you said, in all honesty.
“Rather,” Freddie agreed. Then he clasped his hands. “I’m going to keep looking for them, if you don’t mind. But enjoy your film, and I’ll see you at dinner?”
Your heart dropped, but of course, the great Freddie Mercury was a busy man, so naturally, this was to be expected. “See you at dinner,” you replied, and let him be on his way.
You wandered the hotel for a little while, perhaps ten minutes or so, before you came upon Brian, who had pink-flushed cheeks and wore quite the coat— bulky, and oddly overstuffed, like some sort of armchair.
“Hey,” you said in greeting. “Freddie’s looking for you.”
“Freddie’s— oh, is he? Right. Well. Better find him then before he loses his temper, ha ha.”
You raised your eyebrows. “Are you okay, Brian?”
“What?” he folded his arms around his body, in an awkward fashion, because he was clearly not accustomed to the bulk upon his frame. “Nothing. I mean, yes, I’m fine, yes. I’ll go find Fred.”
And then he hurried down the hall, before you could open your mouth to ask him if he was free to go see a film.
“Never mind,” you muttered, and proceeded in the direction you had been going before.
Two down, two left. This was truly going to be a rotten birthday, if you were to go to see a film on your own. Not that there was anything wrong with that, aside from the glaring fact that you didn’t actually feel like being alone.
You found Deacy in the lobby, leaning his elbows on the counter as he called to the person using the phone in the adjacent room.
Approaching him, you realised he was talking to— or rather, talking at— Roger, who had leaned out of the room, one hand covering the mouthpiece of the telephone.
Roger’s gaze met with yours briefly, before his eyes widened and he hissed to John something that sounded distinctly like shut up.
John saw you then, and smiled as you approached.
“Hello, Y/N. How’s it going?”
“Fine,” you responded airly, feigning a happy demeanour. “You?”
“Lovely,” said John. “Just getting Rog to make a few phone calls about the next show.”
You shook your head, puzzled. “The next show?”
“Mmyes. There was a mix-up with some gear, last time, so we thought we’d get onto it ourselves, so we know exactly what’s going on. Hands-on, you know?”
“Yeah,” you answered slowly, though in actual fact this made absolutely no sense to you, and you were sure that it made no sense to the person who had spoken it.
“Finished, Roger?” John called back to his friend, his tone more warning than inquisitive. You wondered why.
A muffled, bell-like sound announced that Roger had hung up the phone.
“Finished,” he affirmed, adjusting his round-lens sunglasses.
“Well,” said Deacy, “I’ll be off, then. See you later, Y/N.” He raised his hand in a wave, and disappeared around the corner.
You blinked at his sudden departure, then turned to Roger and asked your question before he could disappear as well.
“Rog, come see a film with me?”
Roger was pulling on an overcoat, and promptly shook his head. “Can’t. Sorry, love.”
Your fingers caught on his sleeve as he passed you, and he stopped.
“Please,” you murmured. “I know I said I didn’t want a fuss, but it’s my birthday. Come with me?”
Roger shook his head again, squeezing your hands in his. “I really can’t,” he said. At least he had the decency to look apologetic. You supposed that was something. “But I’ll see you tonight, okay?”
You tried not to sound too dejected, but truth be told, you were crushed. “Yeah, tonight.”
“Alright, then. Well, I’d better be off.” His grip gentle on your forearms, he tugged you forward and kissed your cheek, and you blushed beneath the touch of his lips to your skin, at the warmth that passed from him to you. Drawing back, he winked, let your hands fall, and was gone as well.
You went to see the film on your own.
And then you saw another. And another, just for the hell of it.
By the time you returned to the hotel, it was dark, and you found no one anywhere once more. Until you more or less crashed into John on the landing.
“Blimey, good you’re here!” he said breathlessly. “You’ve got to come quickly. Something’s wrong.”
“Wrong?” you asked. “What do you mean, wrong? Is everyone alright? Is someone hurt?”
John shook his head. “No, no. Just… Come on. You’ll want to see this.”
“See what—”
He more or less dragged you down the hall, until you reached the games room, and ground to a halt.
“In there.”
“The games room?” you said dubiously.
Deacy nodded. He stepped aside, indicating you should open the door.
Eyeing him warily, you reached for the door handle, and pushed it down. The room was dark—
And then abruptly, it was not.
Streamers burst forth, and twinkling fairy lights glinted off of the faces of your friends— Brian, Freddie, Roger, and smattering of crew— smiling from behind a table piled with all sorts of food. Food, and presents.
“Surprise!” came the cry, and you barked a laugh, half in surprise, half in disbelief at your stupidity for not having seen this coming.
“I— thank you,” you said, just as Freddie blew a party horn, to the dismay of those standing immediately beside him. You laughed again, “How did you manage all of this… with such short notice?”
Brian grinned. “It was all Roger.”
“And your bulky coat?” you asked.
“I was carrying bags of ice,” Brian admitted, to a chorus of laughter. “I was cold, okay, but I couldn’t let you see it, so I had to get away from you as quickly as possible. Sorry if that came off as rude.”
You merely laughed once again, then turned to Deacy, who stood beside you. “And, John?”
“Head of organisation,” he said. “Though it was Roger’s master plan.”
“Freddie?”
“What do you think, darling? I did all the shopping,” he swept his arm in a grand gesture, indicating the food and the presents.
“Oh, come off it, Fred,” Roger scoffed, pushing past Crystal. “Not all of the shopping.” Roger now stood before you, and, inclining his head, he handed you a rectangular package, wrapped in butcher paper and white string. “Happy birthday, sweetheart,” he said.
“Thanks, Rog,” you smiled, as you felt yourself be filled with a happiness you had long since thought gone.
“Go on. Open it.”
You looked down at the parcel in your hands, then began to tug at the string.
“We haven’t got all night,” called Freddie. “There’s cake for you as well, so hurry up!”
You glanced at Roger. He shrugged. You tore the paper from the present, and let it fall to the ground.
In your hands you held a first-edition copy of Lord of the Rings.
You gaped. “But how did you—”
“Made some phone calls,” said Roger modestly.
Without a way of putting your gratitude into words, you threw your arms around him, so forcefully that he stumbled backward, before he wrapped his arms around you as well, chuckling.
“Thank you,” you murmured, as someone started a record on the nearby deck, and the party was set into motion.
“You deserve to be fussed over,” he murmured back.
And if it was possible, you hugged him even more tightly, for once at home in this quiet, strange world, with its triumphs and its downfalls, and its in-between moments.
With its Roger moments.
Yes, that was what they were. There was no in-between when Roger was in your world.
And he knew that for as long as you would let him, he would damn well stay.
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kissesinthekitchen · 4 years
Text
Teeth
Prompt: It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you. Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting. And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so. 
Smut and fluff. Needy Harry. More than 6,560 words of sub!Harry.
Pairing: Harry x Reader
A/N: I’m really excited about this! This story was written for the Pick Your Poison Fic Challenge - and my prompt was 9F - Sub!Harry. It really pushed my writing and forced me to write something different and out of my comfort zone. I have so much love for @for-fucks-sake-h @andwhenshesays​ and @oh-honey-styles​ for their patience and for putting this event together. These writers have inspired me so much, they literally brought me back to fanfic -after years of writer’s block- and I could not be more thankful. This was my first time taking part in a writing challenge too! I would appreciate any love or feedback this gets. Thank you! xo
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His eyes are full now, they’re brimming, prickling with tears. And his jaw is tense. He leans into the cup of your hand and you watch the features of his face flutter, the desperation is still there - simmering, but a calmness passes over him as he leans into your touch. He could be good, he could be so good for you.
God, you want to wreck him.
It’s been three weeks since Harry first slept with you. 
Or three weeks, one day, four hours and a few minutes - give or take. Not that he’s counting. 
And he’s feeling needy. Dreadfully so. 
But aside from passes of food and medication through the door of your apartment and fuzzy Facetime calls, he hasn’t seen you. 
It’s been hard. The evening after you first slept together, you were taken away from him - a girl’s trip to Maui, for one of your best friend’s bachelorette parties. You’d given him time, moments tucked away in your hotel room when your mate was gone and you had an hour to yourself. An hour of grinning at him through the face of an unreliable internet connection to tell him that you missed him so bad. Selfies taken hidden in the bathroom. Cheeky voicemails. He’s kept them all.
Then, when your plane had touched down in California, there had been another road bump in your reunion when you’d come back ill. Your achy, trembling voice had croaked into the phone delivering him the bad news. “Harry, I’m sick.” 
You’ve been sick for the last week and a half and it’s been hard to give you your space, Harry will admit to that. But you’re adamant, serious. You remind him that he has rehearsals for tour starting soon and he can’t risk it. 
“Miss you,” he croaks into his phone when you touch down.
“Miss you more,” you tell him back, a cough slicing through your promise. 
“Let me buy you groceries. I can pick up your prescription-”
Harry watches your face soften through the video call, wanting nothing more than to touch your cheek. 
“I’ll pay you back,” you tell him, smiling as if you both don’t know he has a bank account worth millions of dollars. Later, you both stare at each other miserably through the window of your living room window as he places your groceries and medicine on your doormat. He blows you a kiss goodbye before he leaves and you pretend to catch it with your hand. 
But that had been a few days ago and now you’re on your way to his house, caught in Los Angeles traffic but on your way nonetheless. 
He wonders if you’ve thought about it too, thought about him. If you have missed him just as much. He doesn’t feel alone in this feeling, if the look in your eyes as he left your window is enough to tell him, but there’s something else gnawing at him-
Harry is sure he’s in love with you. 
It’s a feeling that kindled inside of him before you slept together, but now it feels more palpable, real. Bigger than himself. The weeks without you have only cemented it for him. He loves you. He’s in love with you. He might have even written a few songs about it already. 
He wants to tell you. He likes the idea of feeling right, but he doesn’t want to wait. He wants to tell you when he feels like he can’t take it anymore, and he knows that feeling is dawning. The words feel like they are bubbling in his chest, nearing the tip of his tongue each time he talks to you. 
You’ve been together five months now. And he knows maybe that’s a bit of a long block of time to get into each other’s pants for some people - god knows he might have wanted to jump your bones earlier than that. 
But time was always in the way, the same way it feels now. A trip to take him across another country away from you. Your job making you stay late or taking you out of state. You’ve done other stuff together before - of course. Hurried handjobs when you were visiting the studio, his fingers tasting you, he might have even gotten his cock in your mouth when he went to visit you at work. But the real getting together, the real sleeping together - had taken five months. And now that he knows what you feel like, what sounds you make, how you look underneath him - Harry can’t think of anything else. It’s the only thing that has carried him through the last few weeks without you when he’s been miserably lonely. His need for you, and yes, his love for you. 
It happened in your bedroom, on the small - full sized bed in your apartment, rather than the massive mattress in his house. But he thinks it was perfect that way. He loves your apartment now, he knows it. He has his favorite mug and you stock a box of his favorite granola on top of your fridge. He names the plants in your living room. (“Bowie,” he points to a colorful succulent. “Obviously.” And then “Freddie” to the pothos sitting on your bookshelf.) And there are photos of you together tacked up with magnets in the kitchen and frames next to your bed. That night you had given him his own toothbrush to keep on the sink in the bathroom next to yours. 
Everything about him seems to ache without you here. His hands feel empty without you against them, music -even, he realizes- does not feel as vibrant without your voice there to sing along with him. 
You’ve kept him close though, and for that he is happy. He muses on this as he finishes some dishes in the kitchen, trying not to glance at the clock again. 
It started with the text messages. Then the photos you sent him from Hawaii. He has to stiffle a grin at the memory - A sex shop your friends had pulled you into a few days into your trip. You’d sent him a photo of a wall of toys - floggers, gags, dildos, chokers, blindfolds. Harry had barked out a laugh at first when he saw the picture unfold in front of his eyes. See anything you like? You’d teased. 
He remembers how he’d been sitting in his living room, the sound of the latest Packers game fading in the background. His ears felt hot as his fingers hovered over the letters on his phone. 
The choker. He’d typed out, teeth gnawing into his bottom lip. Maybe the blindfold too. 
For me or you?
Me. xx
Harry swears he must have felt all the blood rush to his groin when he saw your reply.
They have handcuffs too. 
Your talks and messages had only escalated from there. It was as if you were both daring each other to go further, but instead you were crossing new territory together, hand in hand. You made him feel dizzy with want, the way you were meeting him inch for inch. 
It’s the only reminder that Harry feels like he needs - he can trust you in a way he hasn’t been able to trust anyone before. He finds himself pledging devotion to the intrigue in your eyes, the way you don’t shy away when he teases you back or admits something through the phone. The feeling leaves him breathless, if he’s being honest. Most of all, it makes him miss you even more. 
His skin is buzzing as the minutes crawl by and your arrival gets closer and closer. He can’t stay still. He paces the hall until he sees the text banner on his phone announce you’re arrival. I’m outside. 
Harry’s favorite thing about you is the way you look perfectly at home in his house. Like you’ve alway belonged here. He swears sometimes that he must have dreamt you into life. It’s like you have just always been here. He’s reminded of this when he hears your voice over the security camera  - “It’s meee.” And when he pulls the door open -  
“Baby-” he opens his arms. 
You drop your bags on his doorstep. And you’re grinning as you launch yourself into his arms, your cheek flat against his chest and your nose buried in his neck. “Harry.”
“Oh baby,” he says, his fingers gingerly stroking your cheek, pushing your face up so your foreheads meet. He doesn’t miss the way your eyes are glistening as he presses your lips together. 
The last few weeks feel like a lie of nostalgia. Your memories of him have not done him justice. Not to the crinkles around his eyes when he smiles, not to his warmth or his laugh and definitely not to the way he kisses you. 
He smells good, like something crisp and floral - his expensive aftershave and cologne, and something still so distinctly Harry. That’s the part you have missed the most. 
You kiss him with both arms around his neck to pull him down to your height and you don’t stop until his back hits the door, reminding you both that you need a break to breathe. He’s laughing as he grips your waist. 
“Sorry,” you muse, smudging some of the lipstick that you’ve gotten on his mouth and teeth. 
“Don’t be, love. C’mere,” he takes your groceries (you owe him, don’t you?) and bag from you.
You shuffle into the house, checking your keys twice to make sure you locked your car even though Harry laughs and reminds you there’s a gate and a security guard that patrols the neighborhood. 
Harry helps you unpack the groceries, while you work on relearning the map of his kitchen again, pulling drawers and opening cabinets, trying to get acquainted with his space again. He throws on some Fleetwood Mac and The Zombies filter through the space between you as you start dinner. He muses that the song could not be more perfect for the feeling inside his chest. “Should I try to hide, the way I feel inside? My heart for you? Would you say that you love me too? I can tell the way you smile. If I feel that I could be certain then. I would say the things I want to say tonight.”
He stares at you with something that feels like pride, watching the sun filter through the window as you work. He thought -maybe- it might be hard to look you in the eyes or to push the feeling inside him aside but this, it feels easy. Watching you and being together with you in this way. His house, he feels, it finally feels like home now that you’re here. 
The smell of garlic and olive oil begins to fill the kitchen as you prepare the ratatouille and pasta you promised him you would make. You smile when he leans down to rest his chin against your shoulder as you work, sometimes squeezing your side with his hands. 
“Smells good, love,” he says, a watchful eye hanging over your shoulder at the pots and pans on the stove. 
Harry pours wine into glasses for the both of you and you hum your thanks when he pushes the throat of a glass towards you, closing your eyes as he kisses the top of your head.  And when you unwrap the loaves of bread from the store, he laughs and barks out “Could’a told me to make some, love. I used ‘ta work in a bakery!”
You laugh as you tug on his waist, reaching up to catch his lips. “I know. You never make me forget.” 
You make tiramisu later, trying hard not to stare at Harry too much as you work together. His long fingers dipping the ladyfinger cookies into the espresso mix. And you know he catches you blushing when he asks you to taste the whipped cream from his fingers. It has not stopped catching you by surprise, the way he can make you feel beautiful and important and lucky all at once. 
And even though he knows this was the plan for tonight, he can’t help but beam at the promise in your voice when the words come tumbling later. “Brought my bag,” you tell him over your empty plates. “Packed an outfit for tomorrow. Hope you like my pajamas.” You smirk at him. 
“S’the ones with coffee mugs and lattes on them?”
You throw your head back and laugh at the fact that he remembered them. 
“Sexy,” he teases. You catch him leaning against the counter and taking you in. “Got you a toothbrush.”
You smile, memories of last time quickly flooding your thoughts, but don’t take your eyes off the napkin in front of you. You know he’s lost in the same memories. When you’re washing dishes later though, he leaves you to place the fancy -electric, you’ll notice later and expensive- toothbrush sitting on top of your overnight bag. 
After dinner, when you’re both feeling warm and giggly, you pull him back into the sitting area of his bedroom. Harry gulps hard as he watches you insist on lighting some candles, and the smell of teakwood and rosemary fill the room. Watching you makes his stomach clench, this is all he has wanted, craved, needed for the last few weeks. You in his arms and in bed, taking up his space again. 
He’s sitting on the small sofa next to his bed, the enormity of his room could almost beat the entire size of your apartment. But you feel at peace here, in the same way he feels comforted and hidden in your home. He’s more than the expensive, designer clothes in his closet, the guitars that line one wall, the pile of leather bound journals and gold and white accented bathroom. Here, he’s just Harry. Your Harry. 
When he’s finally relaxed, you push some gifts bags into his hands and insist that he unwrap the gifts you got him from Hawaii. There are books, boxes of chocolate, bags of pineapple candy, floral shirts from vintage thrift stores, and a kitschy keychain with hula dancers and his name on it - that looks so hilariously out of place next to the keys for his Mercedes and vintage cars. 
You look warm and inviting as you turn towards him, the candlelight taking your skin glow like amber. Your skin looks kissed by the sun thanks to your trip. And Harry’s suddenly overwhelmed with how he wants nothing more than to kiss you for your thoughtfulness, for the disbelief he feels at having you here, for the feeling bursting in his chest. 
“Got you one more thing,” you tell him as you close the distance between you, reaching around him to place a small gift box in his hand. 
“Another present? Or summat?” he smiles. 
You kiss the side of his face, humming softly in response, stroking the back of his hair and neck. You try to stay composed as Harry’s fingers gingerly pry the lid of the box open. 
The air feels like it has been sucked out of him. He hates that his fingers tremble a little as he takes the collar out of the box. It’s black and thick, feels smooth like leather, with a buckle that slides closed on the side. He swallows hard as his thumb gingerly runs over the loopholes, imagining the way it would feel gripping his throat or how you would look tying it in place - god, help him. 
“Thought we could use it sometime. Doesn’t have to be tonight. You mentioned-”
And then he’s kissing you. Kissing you so fiercely that your mind stumbles before your body can catch up. Both of his hands on your face, knocking the collar down between you. 
It’s what you have both been walking around all night and it feels like the feeling that had been simply growing in his chest is about to burst. His vision feels like it is swimming right now, but your hands on his face are the only thing tethering him to the ground, whatever is growing between you makes him feel like so much more than himself. The feeling in his chest feels bigger than he has words for right now. 
Your eyes search his. “Do you trust me?
“I do. Y’know I do.” 
“Then Harry?”
His pupils are so wide. “Yeah?” he says. 
“Get on your knees.” 
You watch him carefully as he moves to his knees on the floor, idly shifting closer to the bed. When he stills, you reach for the belt he had discarded on the way into his room. Your fingers rubbing against the leather. “This okay?” 
You listen to his sharp intake of his breath, watch the curls at the front of his face fall briefly in his eyes. “Y-yeah.” 
His hands are one of your favorite things about him. Their large, calloused - his fingers long and tapered. You reach down to press a kiss to the cross on his hand and then move to coil the belt so it loops around his wrists, biting into his skin. 
 Realistically, Harry knows he could get out of this, but it’s the fact that he doesn’t that thrills you. He’s patient and pliant beneath your hands, reduced to his knees and shuddering when your touch leaves him. The line of his neck arching as his eyes follow you. He uses his mouth to follow the line of your palm, kissing your skin until you let go. 
He crawls for you - and oh, you love that. The way his back arches, his long legs and knees hitting the floor, his mind unable to grasp what his body can’t right now - he’s so eager to follow where you go, to be with you, to be a part of you. 
“Harry-” you say, sitting down on the mattress and spreading your legs wide. You lean back to rest your weight on your elbows, thighs lazily spread wide so he can rest between them. You shimmy the end of your dress up, loving the way his nostrils flare and his pupils widen, watching your hands - your fingers grazing where he wishes his skin could go too. Have hungered to for days and days. 
“Harry, do you want to taste me?”
“God, love. Please-”
“Say it again.”
“Please?” he begs.
His nose and lips skim the same path your hands followed. His head of full dark curls turning under the hem of your skirt. You’re gracious enough to help make it easier for him by tugging it up and he groans a sound of thanks into your skin with his lips. 
He’s hungry for it. He inhales deeply, licking you through the fabric of your panties in a way that makes you shudder. He’s even more grateful when you take pity on him by raking your nails through his hair and shifting the material down so he can look at you bare. The tug makes his eyes flutter, it feels so good. 
He’s frozen though, stilling as he waits for your instruction, and you gingerly cup the side of his face in thanks. 
“Go ahead,” you whisper, when he’s almost at the point of whimpering. And then he moves forward, making a home between your thighs. 
Last time you did this, you learned that you love when Harry has both his mouth and his fingers inside you - but this is - well it’s lovely. It’s fucking heaven. Watching how desperate he is to get you off, the way he presses all of his face into your cunt - heeding the deepest part of you, where you’re so wet and just as desperate for him. He’s needy, messy with it. His lips and tongue remembering you all over again, his nose smashed against your cunt and the hint of his teeth against your clit - just enough to have you grinding down on him in a way that makes your brain feel fuzzy. 
Feeling the slickness of his tongue as he slides it inside you makes your cunt feel like it’s fluttering around him. Your face pinches every time he comes back to lick you deeper and you listen to the half garbled words that he’s sucking and pleading into your skin. 
“So wet. So fuckin’ wet for me. Tastes so good. Missed ‘yeh so much.” 
Without the help of his hands, Harry uses one long leg to push himself against the length of the bed- trying to be close to you, while also finding some friction against the mattress. He finds no relief, but when he hears you voice gasp out for him, your fingers weaving in his hair - it’s almost better than any vision he had of you these last few weeks. Oh, it’s so much fucking better. 
He’s so greedy for it. He wants to taste you, needs to feel you cum more than he wants it for himself. You can tell by the way he pushes his tongue between your folds, trying to get deeper, like he’s trying to reach inside you and be a part of you. If his hands were free, he would use his fingers to spread you wide and open. To stuff you full. He knows he would tug on your legs, wear your thighs around his neck like a fucking necklace but there’ll be more time for that - another time, another place - right now, he just wants to feel you cum.
“Harry,” you beg him. “Harry. I’m close-” 
He moans when he watches you slide your fingers down to help aid him, his jaw dropping down in awe as you rub your clit. He works hard to sink down and lick around your fingers before dipping inside of you again. 
“You’re gonna make me come. You’re gonna - I’m going to come in your mouth. God, I’m going to come in your mouth-”
He’s lost in it, but it’s when he looks up at you - his big, green eyes against your flushed pussy, that you feel yourself lose it. It’s simultaneously loving and yet so obscene - you can’t bear it. 
You fist your fingers through his hair, shoulders trembling a little off his pillow, your thighs shaking just as hard- and if his hands were free, Harry knows he would be forcing your thighs and your hips down onto the bed. But all he can do is take it now, take it as hard as you are giving it back to him. His face getting wet and messy with it. 
You could scream with how good it feels. And he licks you through it all, only stalling when your nails dig into his head and he feels you shift away from his incessant mouth. “Too sensitive,” you murmur, and Harry finally relents. 
He sits up on his knees, leaning his forehead against your thighs, trying to breathe through his nose. 
“Harry?”
He makes a sound in his throat, still gasping against your thigh. You touch his head, urge him to rest against your thigh and he’s grateful. He feels something hanging off the tip of his tongue-
“Harry. Harry, what’s your color?” Tell me. Where are you?”
“Green,” he groans, nuzzling deeper into your skin. “That was- that was just a lot. But I’m green. So fuckin’ green, love..” 
You giggle at that and when he finally does look up at you, he looks so pleased with himself. When you take his face between your hands, he feels warm against your fingertips, from the pressure of your hips and how deeply he was digging his face between your thighs. His lips and jaw are soaked, glistening with you and you’re more than happy to help clean him up, licking the taste of yourself from his mouth and pressing soft, appreciative kisses against his face. 
When you finally step aside, his eyes follow you. He’s appreciative of the fingers you still have in his hair and the way you use them to steer him up and onto the bed. 
“Harry?” His eyes look drunk as they meet yours.  He’s still kneeling. “Are you with me?”
“Always, love.”
You smile at him, giving him another pat on the head, your fingers running through his matted hair. And he nuzzles deeper into your hand. 
“Breathe, baby. Give me your safeword.”
His mind is swimming. He thinks of your eyes narrowing at him over dinner - a field - the bright painting on the wall behind your head. - Plastic crinkling around the bouquet of flowers he held clenched between his fingers on your very first date. The vase of them you keep on the island in your kitchen and next to your bed- smiling over at him, the smell of coffee drifting, the sun hitting the bare skin of your back, the name he has you saved under in his phone-
“Sunflower,” he says, the smile on his lips lazy and triumphant when it finally comes to him. “Sunflower. Sunflower.” 
You’re beaming as you stare down at him and he feels like he wants to sink into the praise in your eyes. 
“Good,” you tell him. “Good. You’re doing so good, Harry.”
His eyes are full now, they’re brimming, prickling with tears. And his jaw is tense. He leans into the cup of your hand and you watch the features of his face flutter, the desperation is still there - simmering, but a calmness passes over him as he leans into your touch. He could be good, he could be so good for you.
God, you want to wreck him. 
“M’cock’s hard,” he says, in the same lazy, almost dazed voice. “S’leaking.”
You make work of both your clothes and then unbuckle his pants and take him out and true to his word - he’s hard. So hard. His expression looks pained when you thumb the raspberry tip of his cock, your mouth watering. He’s too sensitive for that right now, but maybe- you think- hope blooms in your chest. In the future. You could use a ring or-
It’s endearing how reactive he is to you. Not only do his eyes always follow you, but it’s as if his skin’s instinct is to follow you too. 
“Harry, I’m going to untie your hands. Would you like that?”
“Yes-Yes Please.” And god his voice breaks twice around your name -you almost want to take pity on him. 
Almost. 
“I’m going to untie them but I want you to listen to me. Listen to me, okay? I want you to raise them above your head, hold onto the headboard. You’re still not going to touch me. Is that understood?”
“Ye-yes,” he stutters out. And oh you love that. Your golden boy, who has had the world at his feet since the beginning - he’s never been denied things. But this, this he’s doing just for you. And for himself.  
He gasps as you work to undress him, pulling his jeans down the length of the bed, then his briefs. You move to straddle his thigh first, leaning down enough to rub yourself against the tiger inked into his skin. At the touch of his thigh against your clit, you moan - and he moans with you - as if he can’t help himself, can’t bear it- feeling you spread open against his skin and being unable to touch you.
“So wet,” he whimpers. “Fuckin’ christ. You’re so wet.”
You allow yourself this moment, a few seconds to rub yourself against him like some kind of cat in heat. Using him until you feel more wetness begin to pool on his skin. You note that his arms are straining with the stretch of the angle he has against the headboard, the veins in his arms a flash of trembling light blue as his fingers shake. 
When finally you feel like you’ve had enough to bear, you swing your leg over his hip and draw yourself down to his pelvis. His face is almost flush with your chest, and you can see the restraint he’s trying to give you - the pupils of his eyes are so wide, and he’s biting into his plush bottom lip, trying not to close the distance between you to suck a beautiful, puffy nipple into his mouth or between his teeth - He needs to be good. He needs to prove to you how good he can be. 
You’re more patient and forgiving this time, spitting on his cock and taking him into your hand. You stroke him a few times, letting the tip of him - just the tip- graze inside of you. 
His eyes and forehead crease at your teasing. 
“You’re so big,” you tell him, and his skin flushes beneath the phrase, his hips bucking up to meet you. 
“B-biggest?” he stutters out and you don’t mistake the nervous lilt at the end of his voice for anything but what it is - a need for confirmation. 
“Biggest. Best I’ve ever had,” you affirm. “Harry. Fuck.”
Pride swells in his chest, making him gasp. 
“God, Harry. That first time we...I didn’t think I’d be able to-. It hurt something good the next morning. Felt like I was aching without you there anymore. - Missed you so much. Missed my baby boy, so much.”
He’s rutting up, hips lifting off the mattress and you feel equally pained for him, your cunt miserably fluttering around nothing too. 
“Fuck. Please,” he begs you, the deepness of his voice making you tremble from the tips of your toes to the roots of your hair. “Take me. Take me.”
You relent, letting yourself slide down the length of him - and oh, this is nice. A snug fit. Another memory of him gone unjustified. You can feel him in your belly. His cock is so thick and deep, it’s still new but comforting. Like coming home. 
“Feel good, Harry?”
“Yes! Yes. God. Christ. You feel so bloody good-”
You shift so you’re resting against him, the palms of your hands flat against his chest. - But not moving. 
“Please,” he groans, his jaw straining towards the side of the bed. “Please fuck me, princess.”
“What do you want Harry?” you indulge him. You’ve missed his voice just as much as his touch, and you need to hear him say it outloud. 
“Fuck me till I cry. Fuck me, ‘till I’m done for. Christ.” 
His skin flushes like he’s embarrassed, so you lean down to kiss his jaw and mouth. “I will. I will. I’m going to fuck you, Harry.”
You use your hands for balance as you lift your hips, sliding up and down the length of his cock. Moaning loud and gasping hard when he shifts up to meet you thrust for thrust. 
“H-Harry,” you call him, only continuing when his head shifts up, his eyes peering up to meet you and tell you he’s listening. The green intensity of them makes you clench around him. “What if I tied you up? Would you like that?”
His feet are flat against the bed now, his hips shifting up in response - he doesn’t trust his voice right now. He feels so wrecked. All he can say is your name as he impales you on his cock. 
“Or maybe- maybe we’ll go somewhere and you could wear a collar - your collar - tight enough around your neck. Something to take out, huh? Just between the two of us - so you’ll know you’re mine. And when I’m gone again, you won’t ever have a reason to forget.”
Harry could almost choke on his disbelief. Hope and lust seem to twine together and something that feels like hope has been freed from his chest. Your mouth - it’s every fantasy, every secret he’s had - coming alive, coming to fruition hearing it in your voice. 
“I’m going to come on you, going to come on your prick, baby,” you promise him. “Then-then you can come.”
“Yes,” he sputters out in response. “Yes-yes. Use me. Please. Please, love. It’s all I’ve been able to think about-since you’ve been gone. Wanting to make you come.”
There’s no hesitation in his voice, and you feel yourself grow wet at the sound. He knows he’s safe. He knows he has you. His exhibitions are unraveling like a thread. They have been since that first message you sent him. 
He’s rambling now. “Wanna come too. Wanna shoot it in deep. But-need ‘ta feel you first. Need ‘ta feel you quaking around me-Baby, please-”
His eyes go wild when you press your hand against his throat, small tears slipping down his cheeks. Your red fingernails look beautiful against the paleness of his skin. And his knees lift up in a desperate show to fuck into you harder. 
“Fuck. I love you. I love you. Fuck please. Please!”
He’s too lost, plummeting into the safety of the haze you have taken him to - he doesn’t notice the way your eyes narrow in surprise as he gasps from between your fingers. Your heart feels too full, like it might smother your rib cage and you let that feeling take you under. He loves you. He loves you. 
Something overtakes you then. A wave of pride, and something territorial. You feel his words sinking into your bones, and you don’t feel afraid. In fact, you feel something like pride and adoration make a home inside your chest. You’re soaring. He loves you. Your teeth sink into the skin between his neck and shoulder and he groans, a heated sound that makes your skin flush, makes you feel impossibly wetter where you’re holding him between your thighs. It’s a mark to match the ones you have left on his left pec and his thighs, the line on his hip, and your handprints around his throat.. And for days to come, beneath the dim candlelight of his bedroom or the sunlight peeking through his bathroom in the morning - he will marvel at them, but now, now he’s too overcome. 
“Harry,” you rake your nails through the back of his head and grab a fistfull of his hair, harsh and tight. “I’m gonna come. You’re gonna make me cum. I want to come for you. You’re so good.”
He chokes as he feels yourself clench around him, swallowing him deep. You’re shaking, tugging his hair, and saying his name - “Harry, you’re perfect. My beautiful-Harry.” And watching you come on his cock, it’s still the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen. 
You kiss him through it all and as you come back down. You’re tired, slick, and still recovering but your hands grasp Harry’s. Your fingers clenched between his long fingers, squeezing tight around his rings and pressing down on his wrists. 
You lean down so your mouth is pressed between the pink wetness of his mouth, tugging at his bottom lip with your teeth. 
“Do you want to come inside me? You can, my sweet- Harry. You can. Only you. Come inside me Harry-.”
He doesn’t need much now. You’re grinding against him, lazy and slow. Licking into his mouth. 
“Come inside you,” he repeats your words, gasping against your face. You feel his arms flexing beneath your touch, his hips pistoning his cock in and out of you. Arousal -both yours and his- dripping between your thighs. It’s a mess, but it’s your mess. “All I want - ‘ta come inside you.”
You press your fingers against his throat again and his eyes roll back into his head again. You push the weight of your hips against his pelvis and then feel it - the first few spurts of his release inside you, warm and comforting-
“Fuck. I’m coming. Y/N. I’m fuck-”
You hold him as it happens, your fingers around his throat only relenting when his hips have stopped stuttering and he’s finally stopped calling your name. 
Spent, you collapse on him. Tapping his hands and wrists and loosening them. - “You can touch me. Harry- you can touch me.”
You stay with him for a long moment, it’s a space of time you both need. He’s coming down from where you took him so high, and you need to feel grounded, tethered next to him in every way you can right now. The bites and marks you’ve left on him pulse and throb, and his skin feels like it’s been lit on fire. He aches in the best way possible. He feels each throb like an ache under the intensity of a magnifying glass.
Your hair acts like a curtain over both of you as you plant soft, wet kisses over his neck, his temple, his face. Kissing away his tears. Your fingernails tracing over the tattoos on his stomach and chest as you tell him how well he did, how good, how hard he made you come. It makes him feel looked after, cherished, adored.
Your skin is a warm and comforting weight against his back, until he feels like he’s floated down again, his feet firmly planted.
It’s only when you’re sure he’s stopped trembling, and his heartbeat has slowed beneath the palm of your hand, that you break the surface of this bubble you’ve created together- 
“Harry?” you call to him. 
“Mmm,” he grunts. 
“Are you alright?”
“I’m fuckin’ perfect,” he says. “Love?”
“S’okay if I...I’ll be right back. Need to get us both cleaned up, babe.”
“I’ll-” he starts, and you can almost see his tall frame trying to lift from the  bed. 
“You don’t have to do anything, beautiful,” one of your hands comes up to press him back down against the mattress. “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere, handsome.” You press a wet kiss to his head again to soothe him and laugh as he makes a joke - “Think ya properly fucked my brains out. Can’t move, love.”
You walk to the bathroom on trembling legs and feet, and retrieve a wet washcloth to clean both of you up, only pausing to smile faintly at your reflection in the mirror - you look disheveled and happy. You hurry to grab a water bottle from the fridge and then patter back to Harry’s room and make him take a few sips from it. He stares up at you from beneath the throat of the bottle and you try to ignore the way you feel yourself flush beneath the awe in his eyes. 
Only after you’ve pulled a clean pair of underwear on him, do you join him on the mattress again. You crawl onto the bed knees first, and Harry’s breathing slows as he feels you tug him towards you, your face pressed between both of his broad shoulder blades. 
You listen to the heavy thud of his heartbeat through his back. 
“I love you too,” you tell him quietly, finally. “Love you too.”
He makes a muffled sound, and then though he feels heavy and his body protests against the movement, he turns in your embrace so he can look in your eyes. 
“Heard that, did you?” he tries to laugh. But you feel worry cementing itself in your heart when he doesn’t look up to meet your eyes. 
“Don’t have to say it back, y’know?” he finally says. “Don’t have to say it just because I did. Don’t have to know what to do with it. You can have it- you can have me either way.”
You lean up a little to brush your hands through his hair, and so he can tilt his head up to meet you. The edge of his jaw against the cusp of your breasts, the pink of his mouth sitting so pretty against your chest, his eyes half lidded and still so fucked out. You wonder if he grasps exactly what he’s telling you. 
“I know I love you. And I know I missed you so much, Harry. I want to take care of you.”
His heart thrills at what that could mean. “Want ‘ta take care of you too. Want to make you feel good.”
“You do. You’re the best. I love you and,” you smile a little, fingers brushing over the bite you left on his neck. “You’re mine.”
He laughs a little, drawing a glance at the mark too. His big hand closing over yours. “I love you too. Been wanting to say it for a long time.”
“I’m glad you did right now.” You smile at him, and the anxiety he was feeling seems to falter. He smiles back.
“Did you mean what you were saying?” Harry says, reaching for you even as sleep looms over the edge of his thoughts. “About the choker and the ring and summat?”
“’Course, whatever you want,” you smile at him above the duvet pulled up over both of your shoulders. “Trust me?”
“Know I do,” he smiles, the dimple in his cheek deepening. 
Your face softens as you reach up to trace it with your fingers. “I’m many things, Harry Styles, but I’m not a liar,” you laugh. 
“Know you are,” he laughs back, the gravely sound of it making you feel light and wonderful. Bright and adored. “First and foremost though, you’re my sunflower.”
You seem to beam under the look in his eyes. You pull him close, tucking yourself under his chin, and kissing one of the sparrows on his chest. “I am,” you tell him. “I am.” 
A/N: If you’re wondering, yes, the story and title were both inspired by the song of the same name by 5SOS.
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