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mynameismckenziemae · 6 months

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Ain’t No Sunshine When She’s Gone-Chapter VI

Robert ‘Bob’ Floyd x Female Reader (no use of y/n)

Goodbye for now

(previous chapter here, next chapter here)

Warnings: smut, same ol’ same ol’.

You wake up to a loud thump and groan from the living room. “Everything okay out there?” You call, too tired to check yourself.

“Yeah. I’m okay, Steve launched me off the air mattress.” Mickey responds with a laugh, “Not the ears, buddy!”

Bradley’s head pops up on the other side of Bob. “I know I was drunk last night but…we didn’t, uh…you know, me and you…with Bob?”

You laugh, throwing a pillow at him. “You’re an idiot”.

He laughs too, “I kid, I kid. I would definitely remember a night with Bobby here”.

Bob sits up with a yawn. “How’d you end up in here Brad?”

“Not sure. The last thing I remember is laying on the bed and telling you should try it, see to how comfy it is” Bradley says, trying to recall.

“Yeah okay, I remember now. I said why not and laid down too. Must’ve fallen asleep.” Bob replies.

“More like you both passed out,” you laugh, picking up your phone to show them the picture you got.

“Well, next time Sunny’s in the middle, Bob kept pushing me all night” Bradley complains.

“You kept nuzzling my neck with your mustache, it tickles!” Bob argues.

“Wait, Next time?” You ask.

“Yeah. Now that I know your bed is this comfy, I’m crashing in here every time I have too many beers with Pete.” Bradley says matter of factly as if you have no say.

Before you can argue, there’s a knock at the door. “Bob, I’ll take Steve out for ya. Penny’s making breakfast if anyone’s hungry” Pete says, already heading back down the stairs, Steve in tow.

You hear Nat and Jake stirring, talking with Mickey as you stretch. You’re all a little worse for the wear this morning, Jake’s missing his shirt, Mickey can’t find his shoe, and your hair is a rats nest, but hey-no one’s puking, so that’s a plus.

________________________________________

Pete takes a call when you’re all eating, everyone looking more alive with some food in them.

He comes back a few minutes later, looking grim. “That was Adm. Simpson. The mission’s been moved up. We leave tomorrow at 0800, and report to base at 0700.”

His words weigh heavily in the air, shifting the energy in the room from carefree to tense instantly.

“You too?” Penny asks. He nods, unable to meet her eyes.

Dread fills you at that. They’re all going, the best of the best. It’s definitely something serious.

Everyone finishes eating and cleans up in near silence, needing to get home to pack and tie up loose ends. You follow Bob to his truck, giving him a kiss and a promise that you’ll be over later, as you have to prep for the upcoming week first as well.

You strip the beds, vacuum, meal prep, and clean. As you’re putting the clean blankets back under your bed, you find the Polaroid camera you got for Christmas and a lightbulb goes off. You have an idea.

You find your prettiest lingerie and scroll TikTok for tutorials and poses before changing into deep red lacy boy shorts that hug your ass just right, paired with a matching push-up bra, you slip on a pair of red-bottomed heels you splurged on and you’re set. You set the camera on a step stool and set the timer. It takes a few practice takes, but you get it on the 3rd try.

You capture different poses in various states of undress. You have to admit, you look pretty damn good in the light of the early afternoon sun. You picture Bob finding them and getting all hot and bothered, jerking off to them. You end up pulling out your vibrator and bringing yourself off quickly, snapping a few pictures during, too.

You pick several of your favorites and place them in an envelope before writing: ‘For Lt. Bob Floyd’s eyes only’. You seal the envelope with a lipstick kiss and squirt a spray of perfume in the air before waving the envelope through it. Perfect.

You shower and pull leggings with an oversized tee before packing an overnight bag and you’re on your way.

________________________________________

Bob and Steve meet you at his door, taking the bag of takeout you picked up.

“All packed?” You ask as you kiss his cheek in greeting.

“Yeah, pretty much. I’m still waiting on a few things in the dryer. Not sure if you heard yet, but Mav said we can take our phones. We’ll have limited access but at least we’re allowed to have them this time”.

You breathe a sigh of relief. “Oh good.” You were dreading not being able to talk at all. The dryer dings and he leaves the room to get the clothes, you slip the envelope in his bag under some socks.

“I should’ve asked sooner, but my sister is stopping over in a bit to pick up Steve, are you okay meeting her?” Bob asks, plopping the clean laundry on the couch to fold it.

“I don’t mind at all. Annie, right?” You say, walking over to help him.

“Yep. She and her husband Mike, are taking the girls to Disney in 3 weeks, leaving on the 19th. Would you want to take Steve if I’m not back by then? I can board him if you can’t or prefer not to” he asks.

“Oh, I’d love to have him! I would’ve taken him the whole time but I’m not sure what my call hours will be yet, I’ll find out more tomorrow when I accept the position. I’m sure Amelia will kidnap him when I’m not home too” you joke.

“Thanks, that’s a relief knowing he’ll be in good hands. I hate this is all last minute,” he sighs, dropping the shirt he’s folding to pull you in for a hug. “I know this is new, but I’m—I just don’t want to leave you yet.”

“I don’t want you to either” you mumble into his chest.

________________________________________

You finish folding the clothes and help him pack, a little nervous that he’ll discover your gift, but soon he zips his duffle closed.

The doorbell rings as you two dish out the food. “Come in!” Bob calls.

“Hey, whose car is that in the drivew—oh, I’ll bet it’s yours. You must be Sunny…the pretty nurse from Minnesota that I keep hearing about?�� She smiles, holding out her hand as Bob flushes.

You laugh, shaking her hand. “That’s me, and you’re Annie-the brilliant statistician and lifesaving sister.”

“I’ll take that over the ‘annoying little sister that he never wanted’ I heard all the time growing up” she teases.

“I literally only said that once…after you smashed the Hot Wheels track I had spent hours making,” Bob argues.

“Whatever you say. It’s nice to meet you though,” she smiles, turning her attention back to you.

“Likewise. Have you eaten yet? I brought plenty of food” you ask.

She nods, “I did. I’d love to stay and chat but I left the girls with the neighbor since Mike got called out to a fire. I wanted to bring them with me, but Harper keeps getting carsick if she rides more than 10 minutes and I really didn’t want Steve to eat it. Speaking of, I should really put a call into her doctor about that…” she rambles.

You try and hide your smile—she’s the complete opposite of Bob.

“It’s alright, I understand. Thanks again for taking him on such short notice. Sunny said she’ll take him when you guys go to Disney. I’ll FaceTime if and when I get the chance,” Bob says, hugging her.

“Be safe, okay? I love you” she sniffs, wiping her eyes.

“I will, I love you too. Tell Mike and the girls I say hi” Bob replies, voice cracking a little. You have to look away, or you’ll start crying next.

You take her phone number and text her right away so she has yours. She hugs Bob again and then takes off with Steve. The house feels too quiet.

You finish eating and clean up. It’s only a little after 7 but you both head to the bedroom.

Bob takes a seat on the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. His head drops, obviously deep in thought. You step out of your leggings, and pull off your tee, leaving you in just your basic thong and bra as you pad over to him in your bare feet.

You lift his chin, surprised to see tears in his eyes. “You okay?”

“Yeah, just…scared” he replies, voice thick with unshed tears.

“Me too.” You reply softly before leaning down to kiss him.

He kisses you back slowly, sweetly, savoring every sigh and shiver. He rises and unsnaps your bra, pulling it down your arms before turning to lay you back on the bed. He strips off his tee with one hand and pushes his sweats off before crawling on the bed.

He kisses up from your ankle to your knee, knee up to your inner thigh. He places a sloppy kiss to your clit through your underwear, and you whimper as he moves on. He licks a path up your stomach, past your navel stopping to give your breasts attention. Your hands weave into his hair as he lavishes your nipples, sucking, nipping, flicking, teasing. “Please, I need…I need more” you whine, tugging lightly on his strands.

He surges forward for a kiss, thrusting his boxer-clad erection against your clit. The head of his cock catches your entrance and he stills, groaning lowly, feeling your wet warmth through both layers of underwear. He takes a shuttering breath before thrusting against you again, careful to not repeat it. “I want…cccan we? When I get back?” He pants into your neck.

“Yes, God yes, please,” you cry, getting close. Your fingers run down his back, before sliding under his boxer briefs to squeeze his ass, nails biting into his skin as you pull him into you harder. “Fuck!” He chokes out, cum soaking the front of his underwear. He continues rocking against you, and the added moisture is enough to send you over the edge too. You cry out into his neck, grinding your hips into his as you ride it out.

He catches his breath before pushing himself off you “I feel like a teenager again, dry humping in the backseat and jizzing in my pants,” he chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck, embarrassed.

“Me too,” you smile up at him, “the only difference is I never got back then.”

He crawls off the bed, slipping off the cum soaked boxers and balling them up, walking away to throw them in the hamper. Your eyes naturally drift to his ass and widen as you see the crescents your nails left. Those are gonna sting in the shower.

“I’m gonna do one last load of laundry, do you want to add yours? He turns back to you, nodding at your underwear. You nod, climbing off the bed to pull them off and hand them over.

You clean up and get ready for bed in the bathroom, putting on the pajamas he left for you.

He takes his turn after you. He returns to the bedroom and wordlessly turns off the light before climbing into bed next to you. He puts his head on your chest and you run your fingers through his hair, putting him to sleep before drifting off yourself.

________________________________________

As always, morning comes too soon. Your phone’s alarm startles you awake at 5:15. Bob rises as you hit snooze. 10 minutes later it goes off again and you turn it off with a groan. You are not a morning person.

You smell coffee brewing as the shower turns on. You hear a yelp. “Jesus Sunny! What’d you do to my ass?!” He hisses.

“Want me to kiss it better?” You say with a smile.

He doesn’t reply, but shower door slides open.

You laugh, stripping your pajamas off and get in behind him.

________________________________________

He brings you to orgasm twice, once with his fingers, and the second time with his tongue.

You kneel to return the favor, but only after you kiss each mark your nails left.

________________________________________

He hold your hand as you drive him to base. The ride is quiet and somber.

You pull in the lot shortly after Jake and Nat.

Jake pulls you into a hug as soon as you get out of the car, knowing you need it.

_______________________________________________

Soon, everyone’s here. You make your way around the other family members to you say your goodbyes, saving Bob for last.

“Bring him home safe?” You ask Nat. “Of course” she replies, tearing up a little.

“No cuddling Bob without me, alright?” You tease. “No promises” Bradley winks, giving you a bear hug.

Bob pulls you in and Bradley releases you, kissing you deeply. Someone wolf whistles and Mickey yells to get a room.

You pull away with a laugh, but tears are brimming. “I’ll be here with Steve when you get back.”

He nods as Admiral Simpson clears his throat. “I’ll be in touch as soon as I can” he whispers before kissing you one last time.

The tears flow as they walk away.

#robert bob floyd #top gun maverick #robert floyd #bob floyd x reader #jake hangman seresin #bradley rooster bradshaw #bob floyd #natasha phoenix trace #mickey fanboy garcia

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millipede-menace · 8 months

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Poor Leo, he just wanted his Baywatch moment . . .

He also wanted a cool polaroid picture on the employee board, but Mondo snapped the picture too late. It’s just Leo eating shit. Vi was there as a hype-man but just ended up laughing the whole time.

Fic Link -> No Flirting with the Lifeguard

Bonus: Mondo gave Yuichi the picture lol

My rent for no update o7 now I sleep 💤

#Leo’s also wearing his frog googles lol #lifeguard leo #no flirting with the lifeguard #leosagi fic #nfwtl #rottmnt #ao3 fanfic #leoichi #leosagi #lifeguard au #baywatch #my art #i’m tired #i am cringe but i am free #sketch #long walks on the beach

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melpomene-writes · 9 months

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can’t help falling in love with you

chou tzuyu x gn!reader /// fluff

summary: the two of you love each other, and that’s all that really matters.

wise men say, only fools rush in but i can’t help falling in love with you like a river flows, surely to the sea darling so it goes, some things are meant to be — can’t help falling in love, twenty one pilots (cover)

the two of you meet when the sun touches the horizon and bleeds the world red. you’re lost and tzuyu’s confused but your fingers tangle together almost immediately, like two puzzle pieces of the universe finally coming together.

the two of you end up falling over, under, for each other as the constellations light up the sky. in this moment, the two of you are ethereal beings with stardust in your veins. in this moment, the world stretches as far as each other. in this moment, there’s only the two of you, but has there ever been anyone else?

and so you’re no longer lost and tzuyu’s no longer confused because it’s not difficult to smile when all you ever need is right there next to you.

ii.

tzuyu isn’t an artist but she paints a smile on your face every day. you’re not a fixer but she collects all the pieces of yourself that tzuyu throws away in her small hands and fits them back into their place. the two of you aren’t perfect but the two of you are perfect for each other.

sometimes it’s difficult to remember the strings that bind you both together, when shouting rattles the roof and both of you scream things that the two of you will later regret. gold and silver threads pull you both back from the cliff’s edge and the two of you hold each other like lifelines.

when the world is quiet, the two of you remember what love feels like, and then everything is okay again.

iii.

the two of you are painted in red, blue, white, backlit against the fireworks that bloom above you both. you’re silver and tzuyu’s gold and there’s so much pride in the sky that it’s almost tangible in the air but the two of you are only ever proud of each other.

lyrics spill from your fingertips as the two of you twirl into the night, laughter crystallising into the atmosphere. tonight, there’s nothing except for the feeling of warm hands wrapping around your heart and the slow pulsing beat of the earth as it spins to the rhythm of your feet.

the two of you don’t let go of each other until the moon fades away and even then it is only to fall into each other again as you both sleep.

iv.

there’s something wonderful about the permanence of ink. it breathes magic into all the pages of your lives. winter is followed by spring and the scrapbook that you both made together is slowly getting filled up. there are so many pictures stuck to the colourful pages that the polaroids almost drip off and float to the ground.

the two of you cannot help but smile constantly at the bright camera flashes, revelling in wanting to be captured in the spur of the moment, on the edge of feeling. you stick the images down and tzuyu captions them in black sharpie.

there’s an ‘i love you’ on every page.

tzuyu used to be afraid of the things that went bump in the night. now she has you to hold her hand and every scary silhouette turns into a bunny or a unicorn or a fairy. she finds that nothing is scarier than you leaving her but you’re right here and so close that tzuyu can count your heartbeats so there’s nothing else to be afraid of.

when morning comes, the shadows are gone but you’re still here and tzuyu realizes that her heart only ever skips a beat now when you smile at her.

she is no longer afraid.

vi.

the bonfire spits into the sky as waves break on the shore. it’s hot and cold at the same time but the two of you have each other so nothing else really matters. the sweet smell of roasting marshmallows hang in the air as the two of you navigate the crowd, always touching in one way or another. it’s customary now, this is how the two of you harmonize. the two of you play a duet with your broken strings and weave stories into your song.

tzuyu’s fingers are cold and she’s shaking as she fumbles with the buttons on her coat. you laugh as you cover tzuyu’s hands with yours and the sky burns orange as you slide the last button into place. tzuyu grins at you and you feel as if the sun has suddenly risen again.

this is how the two of you are now, and this is how the two of you will be forever.

fluff, fluff, fluff…

#kpop x reader #kpop imagines #twice x reader #twice imagines #twice tzuyu x reader #twice tzuyu imagines #chou tzuyu x reader #chou tzuyu imagines #tzuyu x reader #tzuyu imagines #girl group imagines #gxg imagines #kpop #twice #twice tzuyu #chou tzuyu #tzuyu #girl group #gxg

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training4theapocalypse · 9 months

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Finders Keepers Ch 12. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+ (no smut)

Word Count: 5.7k

Warnings: None

Summary: As the first Muggleborn caught by the Muggleborn Registration Commission, the Ministry decides to make an example of you.

A/N: Prison Mike: The worst thing about prison was the... was the Dementors. They were flying all over the place and they were scary and then they'd come down and they'd suck the soul out of your body and it hurt!

Tag list: @countlambula, @ratsys, @aweidlich, @navs-bhat, @stainedpomegranatelips, @chiaraanatra, @xxvelvetxxxx, @ohnoitsrosie, @dracosisteer, @daisydark, @intense-sneezing, (let me know if you want removed at any point btw!)

Masterlist

Chapter 12: Cold, Hard Facts

IIII IIII IIII IIII

Mr McLaggen was right about one thing. The trial was a sham.

According to those presiding over the courtroom, you were the first Muggleborn who had been caught red-handed, breaking into a wizarding home and stealing magic.

And you were to be made an example of.

One year in Azkaban.

Blinding flashes of light hit your face as you were dragged through the Ministry foyer with chains around your wrists - The Daily Prophet photographers were ready to plaster your face on the front page when they announced the first successful conviction of the Muggleborn Registration Commission.

The light danced behind your eyelids turning from white to green in a whirlwind of confusion. One second you were in the foyer, the next you were being led through a fireplace and the burning smell of Floo Powder became the cold, salty air of the North Sea when you arrived in Azkaban.

Before you had time to get your bearings, a placard was being forced into your hands, with your name and ancient runes depicting your crime. You were photographed again - this time by Ministry Officials. Absurdly, it reminded you of your first day of primary school when your mum and dad made you pose on the front steps of your flat, holding your little pink school bag so they could take the Polaroid of you that’s still stuck on their fridge to this day.

Your parents.

Now as you sit alone in your cell, thinking about your arrival to this place, the familiar feeling of despair creeps over you. Your thoughts turn to your mum and dad - hoping against hope that McLaggen will write to them and tell them what happened. That they won’t think you started your Quidditch career and simply abandoned them.

McLaggen.

You haven’t seen him since that night at the McLaggen Estate. Twenty days ago, you think. Forty servings of cold porridge, twenty dim sunsets glimpsed from the window in the empty cell across from yours - yours is windowless. Or was it twenty-one yet? This island in the middle of the sea is so grey today that you’re not sure if it’s the dead of night or just cloudy. You always wondered why in old Muggle films, prisoners would etch tally marks, counting the days onto the wall. But now you understand. You find a small piece of stone and give into the old clichė. The monotony. The isolation. The distant screaming. It all blurs into one dismally bleak streak.

And what’s worse, every time the Dementors drift along your corridor, you find yourself descending into hopelessness, reliving every bad memory you’ve ever had. Now, as you etch lines into the wall, you can’t stop replaying McLaggen’s dad gladly offering you over to the authorities. You wonder if he’d ever really removed your name from the list of known Muggleborns. Or if his plan was to hand you in all along.

On the first day in Azkaban, you fretted about McLaggen. You pictured him waking up and arguing with his parents. In your imagination, you could clearly see him being so furious that he got into another fight - this time with Mr McLaggen. Then you worried. Worried that McLaggen had been taken in for questioning too. And it was all your fault.

But it’s been almost three weeks. There’s been no sign of McLaggen in Azkaban and there probably never will be - McLaggen had been painted as a victim of your corruption rather than an accomplice. It was his magic that you’d been accused of attempting to steal.

So what would be next for Cormac McLaggen? By now he’s probably joined the Ministry already. Maybe he’s even a part of the Muggleborn Registration Commission. Maybe he’s with someone else. Maybe he’s married. Oh, no. How long have you been in here again?

You hear a disturbance some way away. The familiar sounds of another prisoner being brought in. During the first few days, you’d press yourself up against the bars of your cell, desperate to see signs of life being dragged past and along the dark corridor by a Ministry official. But recently, you hadn’t even had the energy to get up from the cold stone bench, resigning yourself to accepting that yet another Muggleborn had met your fate.

This time, however, the guard opens the cell opposite yours. You look up from your dirty, bare feet just for something to do. It’s not like you want company, on the contrary, the less crying and whimpering you hear in close proximity the better. From the distraught screams of the other prisoners, you’ve deduced they’re keeping all the Muggleborns on the same floor - right at the top - the coldest and highest cells where they used to keep Death Eaters. But in this new regime they were the ones who were out free while you had taken their place.

“Alright, alright. No need to push me, mate,” says a young man’s voice - a voice you recognise from what seems like another lifetime.

The official throws him in the cell, locks the door and swiftly departs to leave you and your new neighbour staring at each other across the corridor.

“Alright, mucker?”

You drop the small piece of stone to the floor with a clatter.

“Carmichael?” You barely recognise your own whisper. It’s hoarse. Strained. You haven’t used it in so long.

You walk over slowly and rest your head against the cool wrought iron bars, trying to get a glimpse of him in the darkness.

“You look like shit,” Eddie Carmichael says, grinning.

Grinning.

You almost forgot what that looked like. The strip of teeth stretching across Carmichael’s face looks foreign in here. But as you look at his smiling face, something that was sleeping inside you stirs. It’s like his happiness - his baffling, out-of-place happiness - makes you briefly remember who you were before you came here.

“What are you here for?”

“Same as you I s’pose. Though I didn’t get the same spectacular trial or press cuttings you did. ‘The Muggleborn who Hoodwinked the Holyhead Harpies’ was the latest, if you fancy. Nah, it was Dolores Umbridge and a pretty pink quill checking a box this afternoon before tossing me in. They were only s’posed to snap my wand in two… Then she realised I was a former member of Dumbledore’s Army.” He snorts.

Dumbledore’s Army.

You’d almost forgotten about the little club that Carmichael, Cho, Marietta and McLaggen had joined nearly two years ago.

“Have you -” you gulp, your tight throat struggling to get the words out. “- have you seen McLaggen?”

“I ain’t spoken to nobody in weeks. Your mush is a sight for sore eyes - even in this getup.”

You look down at your tarnished grey and white striped robes. Or at least the stripes used to be white. The corners of your mouth turn up slightly at his smart-arsed comment. It makes your facial muscles hurt. Here he is. The same cheeky Jack the Lad you knew from Hogwarts, cracking jokes.

“How did they catch you?”

“Snatchers,” he clicks his tongue bitterly. “Packs of ‘em are out looking for Muggle-borns in exchange for gold. Or silver in my case. My bounty wasn’t as high as the likes of Hermione Granger.”

“They’re looking for Granger?”

“And Potter and Weasley. Anyone who had anything to do with the Order of the Phoenix. Greedy bastards thought they thought they might get a bit more when they heard I was in the D.A. but no such luck.”

“The Order of the Phoenix?”

“Christ, you are out of the loop. It’s what the resistance called themselves back when Dumbledore was leading it. They’re back again now he’s gone.”

“And what? Potter’s leading the resistance?”

A tiny glimmer of hope that’s immediately dampened - you’ve seen the way he manages his Quidditch team so you’re not sure how much stock you can put in Potter leading a resistance to save the day and get you out of here.

“Nobody’s seen him since Dumbledore’s funeral,” says Carmichael. “Some say he’s dead.”

Dead.

“And you’ve not heard anything about McLaggen?”

“Not since you were plastered on the front page for ‘stealing his magic’.” Carmichael laughs softly. “Would explain why he was such a big berk at school if you had, though.”

You look at him stony-faced. “Why are you in such a good mood?”

“I told ya, didn’t I? You’re the first person I’ve spoken to properly in weeks.”

“Carmichael, we’re in Azkaban.”

“Yeah, but we ain’t done nothing wrong.” You chew your lip. “What? You gonna tell me you actually did attack the Minister for Magic’s daughter and hold McLaggen and his mum and dad hostage?”

“Of course not.”

“Then both of us ain’t done nothing wrong,” he repeats. “You need to remember that or you’ll go doolally. Or maybe you already have.”

“Ask again in a week when you’ve been around the Dementors long enough. Then we’ll see who’s going daft.” You scowl. Carmichael has no idea what it’s like in here.

“I know there’s nothing wrong with being Muggleborn. And that’s the only reason we’re here. It’s not a happy thought but I’m gonna hold onto it. That way the Dementors can’t take it.”

“That’s the only reason we’re here…” Saying it aloud reminds you that’s why you’re here - why you’re really here. It de-mistifies something in your brain. Brings you clarity.

“C’mon. Don’t go soft on me. That there’s a fact. We Ravenclaws stick to cold, hard facts, yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. And for the first time in weeks, you can feel your resolve strengthening. Actually strengthening. “I’ve been wrongfully arrested.” It feels real.

“That’s a good fact, see? Not happy. Tell me another one,” says Carmichael.

“I learned how to do a shield charm this summer,” you say. It feels like it’s helping. Maybe he’s onto something. “You tell me one.”

“Marietta’s working for Umbridge.”

“She - she what?”

“Yep. Couldn’t even look at me today. She was right there and didn’t even lift her head up when she heard my name.” He slumps down on the wall. “I’m worried she’s been Imperiused. But what’s worse is if she hasn’t been.” Carmichael looks at you despairingly. “And then what if she-”

You realise what’s happening. It happened to you. A sad memory easily slips into catastrophising then before you know it you can’t stop.

“Eddie. Don’t speculate. Cold, hard facts remember?”

He shakes his head, snapping himself out of it.

“Dean Thomas got away from the snatchers when they got me.”

“Good. Marcus Flint is missing most of his front teeth after McLaggen knocked them out.”

“He is?” Carmichael perks up significantly at this. “God, I hated him.”

“Yeah, it gave him a lisp and everything.”

Carmichael bursts out laughing but stops abruptly. You hear the rattling breathing of a Dementor coming your way, drawn by the sounds of happiness. Instinctively you back away to the cold external wall of your cell, as far away as you can from its presence.

It pauses between you and Carmichael for a few moments, basking in his joy at Flint’s expense before retreating back to where it came from.

When you see Carmichael again, he’s in the corner, white as a sheet, with his legs pulled up tight to his chest.

Shivering, you crawl back over to the bars.

“Carmichael?” He doesn’t reply. “Eddie? Come on, give me a fact.”

“I…” He falters.

“McLaggen’s started playing football,” you tell him, gripping the bars and looking at him imploringly.

He takes a few deep breaths before meeting your gaze again. “Unbelievable.” He looks shell-shocked.

“You alright?”

He pauses for a few seconds. There’s silence. A few drips leak from the ceiling onto the stone floor. “I’ve been banging on about West Ham for seven years - he starts going out with you and he thinks he’s Frank Lampard.”

“He’s more of an Andy Goram.”

He scoffs. “You’ve not got him into the Scottish farmer’s league, have you?”

“What did we say about sticking to facts?” You smile then quickly rearrange your face. “No fun facts or we’ll attract one again.”

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII I

Time passes more quickly with Carmichael around to help stop you from going mad. You’re both careful to reign each other in any time the other makes a joke or even says anything remotely optimistic. It’s a miserable way of living but infinitely less so than when you were dwelling alone on everything that happened at the McLaggen estate.

You stop yourself from wondering what McLaggen is doing. Any thoughts about him either turn into hope that he’s thinking about you or despair that he’s simply… not.

The two of you recite facts all day. After deciding that football was a much too emotive topic, Carmichael tells you things about magical creatures he learned during his N.E.W.Ts and you tell him about the different properties of potion ingredients you learned in yours.

After discovering that you actually sleep through the night when you’re tired, you both start exercising. Once your evening porridge has been wolfed down, you spend time before bed doing pushups and burpees. You’re careful to do it in silence, making it punishingly difficult until you can’t move anymore - if you have too much fun you’re reminded of sorely of Quidditch practice and that sends the Dementors gliding along to the no man’s land between your cells.

The two of you sit on the floor, eating quietly. Carmichael’s cell has a window facing out to the sea but yours doesn’t - just three walls and some bars facing his. As the evening sun sets, the tiniest sunbeam casts light into his cell.

“The nights are getting shorter,” says Carmichael, moving slightly so the beam of sunlight hits his face. He closes his eyes and sighs deeply. “Do you think it’s September yet?”

You count the etchings on your wall. “It’s the second of September,” you say with reasonable confidence.

“School will have started. I wonder what Hogwarts will be like this year?”

“Speculation,” you chide, pointing your spoon at him. “No wondering, no hoping, no-”

“No despairing. I know, I know.” He finishes his porridge and puts the empty bowl on the floor outside his cell. It vanishes immediately. Carmichael gets up, stretches and looks out the window at the sunset.

“Can you describe it for me again?” you ask, leaning your head back against the wall.

“It’s clear today. The clearest it’s been… I think I can actually see the mainland.”

Scotland. You know you’re somewhere in the North of Sea but if Carmichael can see the mainland it must be Scotland.

You get to your feet and stand on your tiptoes.

“Move out the way, Carmichael,” you say, craning your neck and trying to make out the horizon. You jump up and down on your tip toes but you still can’t see it. You sit down again, trying to reign in your disappointment before you start spiralling.

“It looks like a small black blob,” he says unhelpfully.

“I bet it’s beautiful - sorry! I know… Speculation.”

“You’re not missing much, honestly.”

Not missing much. That’s the understatement of the year.

When night falls, you both go into your usual routine of exercising again until you can’t stand any longer. You lie on the hard stone slab and stare at the ceiling, trying to make your mind blank. You don’t pray for sweet dreams. If you dream too happily, you’ll attract a Dementor.

Especially when those dreams are about McLaggen.

You must drift off because the next thing you know, you’re awoken by a bright silver light in your cell. You sit bolt upright, feeling unusual warmth spreading from your numb fingertips to your freezing cold toes.

You squint, adjusting to the source of the light.

“What the-?”

A large translucent German Shepherd emits a glowing silvery light as he pads up and down your cell.

“Oh my god,” says Carmichael from across the corridor - he too must have been awoken by the bright light. He presses up against the bars, trying to get as close as he can.

It’s a Patronus. You’ve never seen one in real life but you recognise it from reading all about them when you were studying for your O.W.Ls several years ago. But wands were strictly banned in Azkaban - who could have cast it?

The German Shepherd sits and tilts his head from side to side. His big ears flop over each time he does it.

It’s the funniest thing you’ve ever seen. Or at least the funniest thing you’ve seen in here.

You laugh. A side-splitting laugh that echoes through the entire floor. And you just know that the Dementors won’t come. Your laugh sets Carmichael off too. Somewhere along the way as your mind clears, your tears of laughter turn to sorrow then quickly back to joy again when the German Shepherd goes into a play pose, wagging his tail enthusiastically.

You reach out to touch it. As your fingers meet its nose, it disappears, leaving a trail of silvery mist in the air. With a grin at each other, both of you scramble to your usual spots across from each other.

“Do you think someone in here has a wand?” you ask excitedly.

“Another prisoner? No chance.” You frown. “But didn’t you recognise it?”

“No? Did you?”

“Well, when I was in the D.A., there was only one person who cast a Patronus in that form.” You feel your heart racing. You already know the answer.

“Cormac,” you say softly, pure happiness surging through your chest. “But he’s not… do you think he’s here?”

“I don’t think so.” Oh. “I’ve heard some people can send their Patronuses long distance. But that’s really advanced magic. I dunno how McLaggen pulled it off.”

“And you need to be happy to send a Patronus, right? Like, really, really, happy. Do you think it’s good news?”

“Speculation,” he warns but you shake your head. You know the Dementors aren’t paying your corridor a visit tonight. Not after a Patronus has just been here.

“They’re not coming back tonight, Eddie. I can just feel it.”

He hesitates. “I mean, once you get the hang of casting a patronus you don’t need the same amount of concentration on a happy thought.”

“Oh.”

“But it means we know he’s alive at least, innit?”

When you both turn into bed again, you feel like you’ve drank some Elixir of Euphoria. You can’t wipe the smile off of your face.

His dad might have handed you over to the Ministry but McLaggen is thinking about you. He’s okay. And he’s given you a precious few moments without the Dementors so you can feel like yourself again.

You lie on your side and trace grooves on the stone slab with your fingertips. If you close your eyes, you can almost pretend it’s your fingers running across his chest as you cuddle into the crook of his arm.

You fall asleep, this time dreaming of McLaggen.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII II

The morning after the German Shepherd appeared, the security bringing in captured Muggleborns doubled. Today the other inmates being brought in to be locked up - or worse, taken away for questioning - are accompanied by at least two Ministry officials.

Neither of you had managed to come up with a good theory about why security had tightened but you both agreed that something happened outside Azkaban that had the Ministry spooked. And that was a good sign.

“Footsteps,” says Carmichael later that afternoon and you both prick your ears up. “Three sets, I reckon.”

As predicted, another poor soul is dragged past your cell by two officials. When they lock them up they walk past your cells again.

“Oi, s’cuse me?”

The Ministry officials stop, taken aback that an inmate actually has the energy or the audacity to speak to them. You furrow your brow - what’s Carmichael playing at?

“Are you done with that newspaper?” They look at each other nervously. “It’s nothing untoward mate, I just fancy a bit of sudoku.” One of them cautiously passes the newspaper through the bars to Carmichael. “Much obliged.”

He waits until they’re out of earshot. “I thought I saw a headline when it was sticking out of his pocket. Fuckin’ hell. Listen to this,” he clears his throat. “‘Infiltrators Disrupt Ministry Proceedings. Yesterday, the second of September 1997, three Ministry officials were attacked and impersonated by a terrorist group known to the Ministry.’”

“You think it’s that Order group you were talking about?”

Carmichael nods and continues reading aloud. “The group infiltrated Ministry proceedings and freed a group of Muggleborns, suspected of obtaining magic by unlawful means. Deputy Head of the Department for Magical Law Enforcement, Gregor McLaggen -”

You groan.

“Hold on, hold on - lemme finish,” says Carmichael. “‘Gregor McLaggen said ‘We’re investigating this attack on the Ministry of Magic as a top priority. Our Aurors are working to ensure the three individuals responsible for this incident are brought to justice. The Department for Magical Law Enforcement urges those who fled the scene to hand themselves into the authorities immediately so the Muggleborn Registration Commission can conduct its due process.’”

You both mull this new information over for a few moments. “Do you think it was McLaggen who broke in?” you ask, thinking of his Patronus.

“McLaggen wouldn’t need to impersonate anyone to get into the Ministry,” reasons Carmichael. “Besides, it said ‘three individuals’ - if we’re in here, who does McLaggen have that would break into the Ministry with him?”

You purse your lips. “Do you think it was Potter, Weasley and Granger?”

“Yeah… maybe!”

You hear the rattling sound of a Dementor drifting down the corridor towards you, attracted by your renewed excitement, and you both shut up and retreat into the corner of your respective cells. You know by now that the best way to shield yourself is to rid yourself of any thoughts and sit numbly until it passes. Neither of you dare to speak again for the rest of the day.

IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII IIII III

Every evening after sunset the German Shepherd Patronus appears at roughly the same time. It’s the highlight of your and Carmichael’s dismal existence.

When it comes it feels like everything changes. During its arrival and for a few hours afterwards, you’re able to actually wonder about what’s going on outside these walls and talk about things that make you feel. Really feel. Which is just as well because you think you were running out of facts.

After spending your nights talking with Carmichael, you wake up with a renewed sense of purpose every day. It’s not optimism as such. It’s resilience. And each morning you recite the same mantra - reminding yourselves that you’ve done nothing wrong and don’t deserve to be here.

“So McLaggen’s dad turned you in?” Carmichael asks you one morning. You nod solemnly. “If I’m honest, that actually makes me feel better about Marietta blanking me at the Ministry.”

“How so?”

“McLaggen’s dad is high up in the Ministry and he had to hand you over. What was Marietta gonna do? She’s just an assistant.”

“I don’t know if he had to hand me over. I think he planned it.”

“You reckon?”

“I don’t know. It happened so quickly but he must have, right? ‘She’s in here, we’ve got her.’ He must have known they were coming.”

“Shit.”

You hear movement along the corridor. “Footsteps again,” you tell Carmichael, listening carefully. “Only one set?”

You shuffle closer to the bars to see why only one person is coming along the corridor. In the darkness, you can make out a tall man making his way towards your cells. He stops in front of you and the sliver of morning light coming through Carmichael’s window illuminates his face.

It’s Mr McLaggen.

His stern face looks down at you. You feel remarkably small on the floor of your cell.

“Speak of the bloody devil,” mutters Carmichael. Mr McLaggen ignores him.

“The Head of the Muggleborn Registration Commission has summoned you for questioning.”

“Me? What? They know I don’t know anything about where I got my magic,” you say.

“Questioning about the disappearance of Cormac McLaggen.” His lips tighten into a thin line.

Cormac. A shiver goes down your spine. But what about the Patronus?

“McLaggen’s missing?” Carmichael springs to his feet. “What’s she got to do with it? She’s been locked up in ‘ere.”

Mr McLaggen ignores him once more and extracts a set of chain handcuffs and a key from the pocket of his robes.

“Hands out, please,” he says.

Please. After all this, after everything he’s done, he still thinks manners are important.

He unlocks the door and handcuffs you. When the handcuffs click shut, they glow blue for a second before returning to their original dull state - no doubt some enchantment to stop you from doing a runner.

“Follow me.” He turns on his heels and walks back down the corridor.

This is unprecedented. Normally prisoners are dragged through these wretched halls. Maybe the Deputy Head of Magical Law Enforcement doesn’t know the finer details of the Azkaban protocols.

“Carmichael.” You take the opportunity to clutch his hand through the bars. His cold, clammy hand is the first human contact you’ve felt for almost two months. “I’ll find out everything I can, I promise.”

There are worse people you could have been stuck in Azkaban with than Carmichael. As long as you’re together you can make it through the rest of your sentence. Two months down. Ten to go.

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, mucker.” Carmichael gives you a half-smile and squeezes your hand once.

“This way, please,” calls Mr McLaggen.

With difficulty, you bring yourself to let go of him and your bare feet slap stone as you catch up with Mr McLaggen. He collects his wand from the security desk and stands in the fireplace at the prison entrance. You join him, looking down at his wand. It’s just there.

“Don’t even consider it,” he says simply before grabbing a handful of Floo Powder and saying loudly, “The Ministry of Magic.”

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

It’s much too bright. It’s much too loud. Too busy. And by god, it’s stifling hot compared to Azkaban.

You gasp for air, choking on the green smoke as you stumble out of the fireplace. Mr McLaggen grabs your upper arm to prevent you from falling flat on your face. He keeps a hold of you this time as he leads you through the busy foyer and the crowd parts like the Red Sea.

Squinting in the bright light, you make out faces amongst the Ministry employees shrinking away from you, looking at you in a mixture of fear and contempt.

When you get to the courtroom you’re jostled into a cage in the centre of the high-ceilinged room. Your handcuffs magically attach themselves to the bars of the cage, preventing you from moving around. You shift in your worn seat awkwardly - it might as well be a bean bag compared to your slab in Azkaban.

Dolores Umbridge clears her throat and your eyes snap upwards, looking at her sitting at a high desk amongst the benches in front of you. The benches are by no means packed but there’s a decent crowd - including a Daily Prophet reporter with his camera at the ready. Your eyes widen in alarm when you see her, scribbling away beside Umbridge.

Marietta.

“What can you tell us about the current whereabouts of a Mr Cormac McLaggen?” Umbridge asks, her mouth twisting in a saccharine smile.

“I - I- don’t… Doesn’t he work here?” You strain your neck to look at Mr McLaggen standing by the courtroom door.

“I want answers. Not more questions. Where is Cormac McLaggen?” she asks again.

“I don’t know.”

She titters. “Oh, that’s not true. Try again.”

“I haven’t seen him in weeks.” You gesture to your tattered robes. “I’ve been in Azkaban.”

Amused chattering buzzes around the crowd. You didn’t intend it to be a joke but it certainly lands like one. At Umbridge's expense. The corners of her wide mouth turn downwards and her eyes narrow.

“Hem - hem,” says Umbridge firmly and silence falls through the courtroom again. “I’m aware of that, dear. So tell me, where are the headquarters of the organisation known as Dumbledore’s Army?”

Now you’re even more stumped. “I’ve got no idea-”

“Lies!” Umbridge cuts across you.

“It’s not a lie! I was never even part of Dumbledore’s Army.”

“More lies.” She laughs. An awful, drawn-out sing-song laugh. “Miss Edgecombe, will you please refresh the Mudblood’s memory?”

Mudblood. Not a single person in the room flinches. You suppose that in the time you’ve been in Azkaban, it’s become an acceptable term.

Marietta waves her wand and a piece of parchment flies towards you and opens itself in front of your cage. You lean forward to read it. It’s titled ‘Dumbledore’s Army’ and there’s a list of names: Harry Potter, Hermione Granger, Ron Weasley, Cho Chang, Marietta Edgecombe, Eddie Carmichael, Cormac McLaggen… This must be the cursed piece of paper that caused the word ‘sneak’ to scar itself across Marietta’s face.

Your eyes fly to the bottom. There’s your name.

That’s not possible.

You narrow your eyes, your foggy brain whirring trying to scrutinise it. The handwriting is more or less the same. But why is yours bolder? Unless someone copied Hermione’s handwriting with a different quill…

You look past the paper and try to catch Marietta’s eye but she stares determinedly at the stack of parchment on the table in front of her.

What is she up to?

“That’s your name on that piece of paper, is it not?”

“Yes but-”

“A piece of paper, showing the known members of Dumbledore’s Army?”

“Yes but I-”

“So you admit you were a member of Dumbledore’s Army?”

“No!“

“Lies!” she screeches, her nostrils flaring. “We have it on good authority that Cormac McLaggen is being held captive by Dumbledore’s Army and unless you tell us where they’re keeping him-”

“I don’t know where they’re keeping him. I was never part of the D.A.!”

“Enough!” She snaps. “Take her back to Azkaban. Perhaps another two years on your sentence for attempting to pervert the course of justice will refresh your memory.”

“No, please - I swear I don’t know anything!”

“Your plea of ignorance didn’t help you in your first trial and it certainly isn’t an adequate defence today. That will be all.”

The photographer flashes his camera at your horror-stuck face. Your handcuffs detach from the cage and the door behind you swings open. Mr McLaggen takes your arm, roughly this time, and hauls you forcibly out of the room and back to the Ministry atrium.

This time your eyes have adjusted enough to observe the foyer clearly. In the centre of the room is a gigantic statue of a witch and wizard, carved from black stone. As you pass, you read the inscription ‘MAGIC IS MIGHT’. With disgust, you realise the handsomely robed witch and wizard are sitting atop mounds of carved humans: hundreds and hundreds of naked bodies, men, women, and children, all twisted and pressed together.

Muggles. Like your parents.

Mr McLaggen marches you so quickly towards the end of the atrium that you’re practically jogging to keep up with him without tripping. He pulls you into the fireplace and takes a handful of Floo Powder. He mumbles something, throws the Floor Powder to the ground and the two of you succumb to the surge of green flames.

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

Mr McLaggen’s grip releases you when you arrive into the next grate.

“Let me get these damned things off you,” he says, pointing his wand at your handcuffs. They glow blue again before falling to the polished, hardwood floor.

Hardwood. Not grey stone. It feels warm on your feet.

You look up at Mr McLaggen in shock and he nods his head to the left. Hardly daring to breathe, you turn slowly and see him.

Cormac.

Cormac McLaggen standing in the middle of the entrance hall of his house.

That must mean you’re in his house too.

Your head starts to spin and the next thing you know, a cozy knitted jumper is pressed up against your face and you’re enveloped by the heady smell of amber and jasmine as McLaggen catches you from falling.

“I’ve got you. I’ve got you,” he says in a soothing voice. “Reflexes still aren’t all that bad.”

You let out a helpless, ragged wail into his arms. Your chest tightens as you sob, you’re not even sure you’re crying - your body is just reacting to the impossibly overpowering stimuli being presented to it.

“Cormac, you need to leave. Now,” says Mr McLaggen from behind you.

With difficulty, he tries to help you stand upright in his arms but your knees buckle.

“Come on,” McLaggen murmurs. “We’ve got to go.”

“Eddie,” you bawl, your voice muffled by his soft jumper.

“Cormac…” he reminds you softly, looking down at you with concern.

“No, Eddie - Eddie Carmichael… In Azkaban.” You hiccup. “We can’t - I can’t leave him.”

“They’ll be here any second. Cormac, you know what to do.” Mr McLaggen hands Cormac his wand. You grip McLaggen for support as you try to stand upright. Try to understand what’s going on.

McLaggen puts the wand in his pocket and extends his own. His arm trembles.

“Do it!” Mr McLaggen urges through gritted teeth.

“Obliviate!” he says and Mr McLaggen barely has time to look dazed before Cormac brandishes the wand again. “Stupefy!”

A red jet of light hits Mr McLaggen and you clap your hand to your mouth when he collapses on the floor with a thud.

“Can you run? I can carry you.”

You swallow, thinking about how Carmichael will be doing burpees alone in his cell tonight, looking at the empty space you previously occupied. “I can run.”

“Hurry - we need to get past the gate so we can apparate to headquarters.”

And with that, McLaggen grabs your hand and the two of you burst out of the oak front doors of the McLaggen Estate and run. You feel the gravel stabbing and cutting into your feet as you sprint but you hardly care. The fresh, country air fills your lungs, making them burn as the two of you barrel down the path as fast as you can and out to the gate.

McLaggen opens and shuts it behind you. His hold tightens on your hand again before you disappear into thin air with a crack like a whip.

Chapter 13: Dunkirk

#cormac mclaggen x female reader #cormac mclaggen #cormac mclaggen x reader #ravenclaw #ravenclaw fanfiction #fanfic #harry potter and the half blood prince #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #freddie stroma #finders keepers fic

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starry-nights12 · 5 months

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A spin-off on this idea~

A idea I have is Caitlyn and Vi enjoying their date in Piltover and then hears a loud explosion nearby.

They look up a building to see Jinx laughing as she zooms on her hoverboard with Ekko following her to make sure she doesn't get captured or hurt.

Vi & Caitlyn having their dates ruined for the umpteenth time:

Bonus:

Jinx giggled when she launched Fishbons and watched the building explode.

"Angel, take a picture!" she handed him the polaroid camera.

She winked at the camera, tilted her head, and stuck her tongue out while still holding the rocket launcher.

Ekko smiles behind the camera and takes the photo.

"Ekko and Jinx!" Vi shouted, running towards them in the background. "When I get my hands on you two-!"

"Scatter!" Jinx exclaimed as they boarded their hoverboards to flee.

"You can't hide forever! I will find you!"vi shouted after them.

#timebomb #caitvi #arcane #headcanons #my headcanons #my post #mostly TB with CaitVi as guest stars😭

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newdawned · 4 months

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General Tags Dump

#new dawn; new day; new life {ic}#sunset over the horizon {ooc}#clouds in the sky {answered}#the wind whispers {dash comm}#flowers to bloom in spring {prompts}#specify muse #rain on my window pane {aes}#polaroid picture {vis}#chalk on the sidewalk {dash games}

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arminsumi · 1 year

Text

Fuck it I love you

Fic / L. Ackerman / C2

"I don't know if I can tie my hands behind my back when it comes to you."

Levi's that shy boy who works at the cafe near campus. He's overwhelmed with newfound affections for you. Although any romantic advances seem hopeless, considering the fact that you're dating the local heart-throb, Erwin.

Cws; you two almost kiss, not entirely proofread yet, fluff, angst, mutual pining, slight love triangle

Notes on Y/n; Fem! + fem!pronouns used

Notes on this au; modern! + college!, Levi and Erwin are rivals

It's just shy of 4 PM when Levi arrives at the fountain, where you two had decided to meet today.

His shoulders are tensely pulling together due to the cold weather. He pulls up the curve of his scarf to cover his nose, which was reddening by now. The thought of your lips warming him crosses his mind, but it's a short-lived daydream because your voice calls his attention.

"Vi." You greet him with a smile. His heart beats more prominently.

"Levi." He corrects, "How are you?"

"Cold." You say, "I think I underdressed a bit. But I really wanted to wear this outfit."

He gives it a look-over, then compliments it, "I- yeah, it's uh, you- you look good. I mean, it's a good outfit."

"Thanks..." You smile.

You two amble around the campus plaza, making up your minds on where to go and what to do. It gets so cold that you say;

"Maybe we can take our indecisiveness back to my dorm. We'll get hypothermia out here."

His heart pangs, but he speaks calmly, "Okay."

While you walk to your dorm, the silence causes Levi to overthink.

Does she think I'm boring?

She's used to someone as well-spoken as Erwin.

Your voice snaps him out of it, "Oh, Vi,"

He looks at you, then you correct yourself cheekily, "Sorry, Le-vi."

"I don't actually mind Vi..." He says.

"Oh good! 'Cause, I mean, it sounds cool. My friend's names are so difficult to make nicknames out of, so I got excited about calling you Vi." You ramble, "But, anyways, Erwin's birthday is this weekend, and I thought you might want to come! I mean, you two have known each other for a long time, right?"

Levi's grimacing at this, but he doesn't hint towards his true feelings.

"We know each other." He replies neutrally, "But, yeah, I don't think he'd appreciate me coming."

"Oh! Why? Are you two on bad terms?"

The both of you are ascending the flights of stairs leading to your dorm room.

"No." Levi lies, "But-"

"Then come to the party!" You say, and he feels his heart beat excitedly because of your enthusiasm; it feels like you really want him to come.

"I'll try." He says, "Would you mind if I invite Hange?" He adds, realizing that it'd be wise to have his best friend there, in case something goes awfully wrong.

"I've already invited 'em." You beam proudly, stopping at the door of your dorm room, "I'm way ahead of you, Vi. Sorry, Le-Vi." You wink.

You and Levi are lounging around your dorm room; you excitedly show off your polaroid photo collection to him, and he enjoys every bit of your enthusiasm. While complaining about the cost of the film, you're refilling the camera.

"Is the flash off?" You question aloud, lifting it to your face and peering at Levi through the viewfinder.

He's unfairly gorgeous, you think. It's not just because you have a thing for raven-haired people, but also because his features emit this mysteriousness, like a Severus Snape come to life or something.

Levi's eyes are finding excuses not to look up at the camera. Since childhood, cameras have always increased his self-consciousness.

You snap a shot, the sound satisfying to hear, and then place the developing picture face-down on the carpet.

"You've got a face that photographers would love." You comment.

It's almost amusing how red his face becomes at this.

"I don't agree, but thanks." He replies.

It takes all of his self-restraint to stop himself from indulging in your flirting. There's so many little things that you've said so far that are burning bright in his mind.

Levi's got to leave for his evening shift at the cafe soon, but for now the two of you are laying on your backs, a conversation bouncing back and forth between your lips.

In the back of his mind, he's prematurely decided that you prefer Erwin's company, but that couldn't be further from the truth.

There's an indescribable compatibility between you two; like you're two stars that have finally gotten into the same orbit. It almost feels dangerous how well you two get along. Hell, it should be illegal, considering that you barely share any common ground.

It's such a contrast to Erwin, who almost shares every single one of your interests. This attraction between you and Levi even forces you to rethink your philosophy of what makes people fall in love.

"Oh, look." You interrupt the silence, plucking the polaroid shot you snapped earlier.

Levi props up on his elbows, looking at the slightly blurry image. With how his hair dangles and his eyelids hang low, he looks outright delicious to you.

"It's a little blurry." He comments.

"Most polaroid shots are." You say, grabbing the camera again and drawing close to Levi to take a picture.

Such proximity sent his heart racing instantly. The polaroid lens captures this moment and puts it into the eternity of a photo.

The flash makes Levi blink a few times. Why he looks so pretty when he does this, you don't really know why. His shoulder rubs with yours, and it damn near sends him into a frenzy. He's never been this close to anyone.

Neither of you really question the closing distance. It's like you've both cast spells over each other, putting your minds in a bit of a daze.

Levi's looking at you with bigger eyes, you're so close you can see the steel grey and cold blue swirling in his irises.

"I- should- get going, um, my shift started a bit ago." Levi mutters shyly.

"Oh yeah! Sorry, I didn't mean to keep you." You say, hopping to your feet.

The atmosphere of the room recedes back into a tame condition.

While you see Levi out the door, you capture his eyes again.

"I hope I'll see you at the party." You tell him, and his face noticeably brightens.

"I- yeah, I'll be there." He swallows sharply.

"She invited me to the party..." Levi mutters, half in a daze.

He's laying on his bed, still gushing to Hange about the day he's had with you. The lights outside Levi's apartment seem to be gleaming brighter than they used to.

His face has been crimson for half of the retelling of today's events, and Hange can't help but smile.

"This is progress." Hange beams, "I mean, just yesterday you were a total wimp who couldn't even talk to her all by yourself. Look at you now! You're already stealing her away from Erwin."

Levi deadpans at Hange.

"What!" They throw their hands up.

He starts to smile a little, so he rolls over into his pillow to hide it.

Your likes, reblogs and comments never go unnoticed, tysm!

#🫖the Barista Levi series #levi #levi ackerman #levi aot #college au #levi fluff #levi x reader #levi x you #shy!levi #barista!levi #college!levi #aot #snk #erwin #hange #fuck it i love you

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