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pesterloglog · 5 months

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Vriska Serket, John Egbert

Act 5, page 2724-2725

arachnidsGrip [AG] began trolling ectoBiologist [EB]

AG: What.

AG: The hell........

AG: Are you doing!!!!!!!!

EB: oh hey.

AG: John, stop kissing that adult 8rown male human computer at once.

EB: but...

EB: it is bill cosby.

EB: he's back.

EB: in laptop form.

AG: Man. It is just another waste of time.

AG: Everything you do is a huge waste.

AG: A stupid pointless 8unch of w8stey w8stey w8stes.

EB: excuse me, but spending just a little quality time with my man bill here is not a w8stey w8ste at all.

EB: no amount of 8's in words will make that true.

AG: You have important things to do!

AG: Remem8er Jade????????

EB: of course i do! jeez!

EB: ok, i'm going.

AG: Noooooooo!!!!!!!!

AG: XXXXO

EB: what?!?!?!

AG: What the fuck are you doing now!

EB: i am going to blast off and fly a little higher, to see if i can find nanna up there!

EB: and then i will install the game.

EB: it will only take a second!

AG: No, that's not what I mean!

AG: I know that's what you're going to do.

AG: You're just not supposed to do it now!

AG: You are supposed to do something else first. And then fly up. It's right here on your timeline. 8y attempting to do the thing you're not supposed to do yet, you are just wasting more of our time!!!!!!!!

EB: jeez!!!

EB: you are incredibly bossy.

EB: more like marquise bossyfangs.

AG: I told you, that's my role playing name, not my real one! So your weak 8urn means nothing.

EB: no, you did not tell me that you like to play troll dungeons and dragons.

AG: Oh, yes John. I am really going to know what that stupid Earth game is, just 8ecause you put troll in front of it. Stupid.

EB: i will find out what your name is, i am tricky and i have ways.

AG: Pffffffff, dou8t it.

AG: Now shut up and do what you are going to do next!

EB: i don't know what i'm going to do next!

EB: apparently what i thought i was going to do next was wrong, so why don't you tell me?

AG: 8ecause.

AG: That's ridiculous!

AG: That would 8e a ridiculous way for us to do things.

EB: has it occurred to you that i might be wasting so much time because you keep pestering me telling me how much time i'm wasting?

EB: and then when i'm about to make progress you tell me i am doing the wrong thing!

EB: if it weren't for you i would be playing this game already.

AG: Okaaaaaaaay, shut up!

AG: Fine. I will hold your hand every step of the way, since that's apparently how you want to do this.

EB: but it isn't!

AG: I said shut up!

AG: Look, you are a8out to make yourself a new outfit, and THEN you will fly up and install the game.

EB: oh...

EB: but why would i do that? my ecto labsuit is rad!

AG: 8ecause you look like an idiot!

EB: :(

AG: Seriously, it's a good thing I did decide to 8other you now. Otherwise you would go through the game looking like a little weenie 8oy-Skylark.

EB: what is a boy skylark?

AG: It is the most terri8le, gutless class for wimpy losers, ones who have no idea how to handle themselves when a girl talks to them and stuff.

EB: actually, i think i remember passing that rung on my echeladder a while ago.

AG: Yes, exactly! It is 8eneath you, John.

AG: You are clearly much 8etter than that. You should dress like it.

EB: who cares what i dress like? it is what's inside the adventurer that counts.

AG: Hahahahahahahaha!

AG: I watched you actually say that with a str8 f8ce. Oh my god.

EB: why are you taking such an interest in my fashion, anyway?

AG: Trolls are an extremely fashion-minded race, John. You should make a note of this, since you pretend to 8e a scientist or something.

EB: ha ha, it sounds like you have a really lame culture.

AG: John, that is an outr8geous thing to say. You don't even know how important the fashions are, so 8e quiet.

EB: laaaaaaaame.

AG: Look at that! You counted out 8 a's for me, John! That is so thoughtful of you.

EB: oh, ha ha...

EB: i didn't even count. it just...

EB: turned out like that.

AG: Really????????

EB: yeah.

AG: <33333333

EB: er...

EB: ok, anyway, i will make a new suit, but i am not ditching my ectosuit!!!

EB: it is so sweet, i look like link, if zelda was a quest about an elf scientist.

EB: i am the wind waker. it's me.

AG: I know you are, John.

AG: Now empty out your sylladex and let's see what sort of killer gear we can make for you. 8ut do it fast!

#homestuck #vriska serket #john egbert #homestuck act 5 #page 2724 #page 2725

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mysoulremains · 1 year

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#2725 words so far for chapter 6 and im not done #and i also hate it i hate it so much ;;#this is the hardest chapter to write omfg i just wanna be done with it already :////#chapter 7 will be way better imo

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alonglistofbirds · 2 months

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[2725/11080] Cream-coloured woodpecker - Celeus flavus

Order: Piciformes Suborder: Pici Family: Picidae (woodpeckers) Subfamily: Picinae (true woodpecker)

Photo credit: Hernán Álvarez via Macaulay Library

#birds #Cream-coloured woodpecker #Piciformes #Pici #Picidae #Picinae #Celeus #birds a to z #undescribed

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dean-samw67 · 10 months

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Hello :)

I saw that you are taking requests for Leon Kennedy... If you are willing to write it, I would be happy if you could write Leon Kennedy RE4 x fem reader where she is having her first time with him (the reader has no previous experience in that field) and all is very fluff but smut at the same time. But it is completely fine if you don't want to write it so no pressure....

Have a nice day:)

Trauma Bonded

Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

A/N: I am going to try! Leon will be trying so hard to contain himself for sure tho… hahahaha. Ashley obviously isn’t here yet, because otherwise I don’t think they could do the do.

Warnings!!: First time, Sex, Tension, Porn with no plot really, praising?

Words: 2725

You were sitting with Leon in a cabin, healing up. You let out a soft groan as you wrap up your arm, which was bleeding a bit.

“Let me help.” Leon says as he walks to you. You look up at him from where you sat on the bed that sat in the middle of the cabin, against the wall. He had his hand out.

“Thanks.” You mumble as you place your arm in his hand and he continues to wrap it, making sure it is covered.

“Need to be careful next time. It might not be just a cut.” He glances up at your face every so often.

“I know.” You sigh. After he finishes he lets your arm go. You rest your hand in your lap and meet his eye.

“There.” He whispers and cups your cheek. You close your eyes and take in his warm touch. You had an attachment to Leon. Maybe it was a trauma bond because you had been with him for the Racoon City incident. Maybe it was because you two genuinely had something. Either way you both had leaned on one another for a lot. You could relate to each other, which was hard to find with what had happened.

You open your eyes, giving him a concerned look. “Are you okay?”

“I am fine. Nothing I wasn’t able to fix.” He answers.

“Alright.” You nod. You push yourself back on the bed and lay down, craving any type of stretch for your body. It ached a bit and considering you were always running from something, you didn’t get a break often.

Leon couldn’t help but admire you as you lay out before him. He wasn’t some big horndog who couldn’t control himself, but he had to admit that he was highly attracted to you and he had thought of you like that before. The thought of you under him, under his touch, it was one that rested in the back of his mind regularly. And made special appearances in the worst times. Like now.

He was standing right in front of you when the thought surfaced, causing his cock to harden in his pants. He backs up from the bed and turns away from you. You open your eyes and look up at him.

“You sure you are alright?” You push yourself to rest on your elbows,

“Yeah. I am good.” He nods quickly, trying to push the thought of you naked underneath him out of his brain. But the more he tried to get rid of it, the more scenarios would pop up.

“Come lay down with me.” You crawl to the pillow and lay your head on it as you rest on your side, looking at him.

“I am alright.�� He bites on his bottom lip.

“Please. I need some cuddles right now.” You playfully pout. He glances back at you, your pout always being a weakness. He didn’t want you to know how he felt. How dirty his thoughts were. He knew you had never had sex before. It was a topic of conversation that heightened his dirty thoughts. Imagining that he would be the one to take your virginity. To be the first one to have you in such a way. It plagued his mind.

Leon tried his best to not draw attention to the uncomfortableness of his hard on as he walks to the bed. He climbs on it and lays behind you, arm wrapping over your waist, but trying to keep his hips back from yours. You sigh in content and close your eyes. You always had found comfort in Leon. You trusted him with your life. And maybe it went back to the trauma bond thing but you didn’t care what caused it. You held onto your trust for him like your life depended on it.

Yet when it came down to cuddling, you never felt close enough to him. Especially right now. For some reason it seemed as if he was trying to keep some distance and you didn’t like it. You scoot back, pressing your body tightly against his, earning a gasp from Leon. Immediately you knew why. You could feel the bulge through his pants and against your ass.

You never really realized you had this effect on him. Yet, you’d be lying if you said you never got wet from just being in his presence sometimes. You had talked to him about how you were a virgin. After you and him had formed the bond you have, your virginity was simply because you never wanted to lose it. It’s not like there were never any men who wanted you. But you knew who you wanted to give your virginity to. The only person you could trust.

You both didn’t say anything and the air in the cabin was now thick. All that could be heard was the heavy breathing from the two of you. Leon couldn’t help but close his eyes as he softly inhaled your scent, his nose brushing your shoulder. The feeling of his breath against your skin sent chills along your body. You could feel a wetness gathering in your panties, but not daring to shift no matter how uncomfortable it may have felt. His hand was resting against your lower stomach and you could feel the slight tremble of it.

“Are you nervous?” You finally break the silence.

“No.” He whispers into your neck.

“Why are you trembling?” You question.

“I am trying to not do anything I may regret.” His answer causes goosebumps along your body. You riled him up that much?

“Like?”

“Touching you in a way that might be inappropriate.” Each word increased the tension.

“What if I want you to?” You gasp out.

His cock throbbed against his pants at the sound of your offer. “Don’t tempt me.” Your hand slides down and takes his, slowly slipping it into your leggings. A soft growl emits from his throat as he can feel the heat that was in between your legs. You close your eyes, feeling a soft kiss pressed to the skin of your neck and his fingers brushing you over your panties.

“This is a dangerous game, Y/n. I don’t know if I can control myself.” He whispers. He didn’t mean it that he wouldn’t be gentle or patient with her, because he would. He just knew if she gave herself to him, he would also be giving into his dirty thoughts, which he could barely contain as it is.

In response you push your hands past your panties and guide his fingers to your clit, a gasp escaping you at the touch.

“Fuck…” Leon grunts in your ear as he begins to rub circles on your clit. Yeah, you had touched yourself before, but something about it being him made it so much more intense. His fingers dip down a bit, gathering your wetness on them. “Shit, you are so damn wet.” He presses a kiss just under your ear.

“You do this to me…” You whimper.

“I better be the only one.” Something about him being possessive sent a surge of pleasure washing over you.

“You are. You always were.” You had a soft grip on his wrist now as the tips of his fingers just barely dip into you.

“You want your pants off, love?” He whispers. You quickly nod in response and his hand is removed from your cunt as he helps you remove your leggings and panties, kicking them off the bed. He takes your leg and pulls it back to rest over his, spreading you open for him. His hands slip up your sides and push your shirt up. You adjust as you help him to get it off you, your hands reaching back and unclipping the bra that now was your only restriction. As soon as that was off you were back to laying into him as his hand rested just over your lower stomach.

“Look how beautiful.” Leon leaves a kiss on your shoulder. You felt a little nervous now, completely exposed under his stare.

“If I get too excited and it overwhelms you, stop me.” He looks you in the eyes.

“Yes.” You nod.

“Good girl.” He whispers and those two words just made you even more wet. His hand goes back to your cunt and strokes along your entrance for a moment before he very slowly pushes a finger into you. You grip the pillow beneath your head as you whimper. It wasn’t very painful with just one but that changed when he added a second finger into you.

Your walls felt tight around the two fingers inside you as he rubs your clit gently with his thumb. The circles on your clit were making the bit of pain worth it. You had no clue how you would take his dick but you calmed your nerves, remembering this was Leon. And Leon cared about you. You trusted him.

As soon as his fingers began to move in and out of you, the room quickly filled with your whines of pleasure, the pain quickly fading.

“Such a good girl… take my fingers.” His nose drags across your jaw as you gasp out. Your scent was intoxicating to him.

“Leon…” Your whimpers sent a fire through Leon. He was trying so hard to keep from ripping his clothes off and just taking you right now. He wanted to prep you and be gentle. But just the feeling of you clenching on his fingers made his cock twitch. The thought of your tight pussy around his hard cock was almost too much for him.

“Fuck. You are doing so beautifully, baby.” He praises as his fingers push deeper into you causing you to almost close your legs in pleasure but he quickly pushes them back to where they were. “Don’t. I want to watch my fingers fuck you.” He growls. The wetness that built up was heard through your moans of pure pleasure. You were soaked and he loved that. It meant you were ready to take his cock whenever he was ready.

“It's so much…” You were already shaking and he was only using his fingers.

“Do you need me to stop?” He asks, his fingers beginning to slow.

“No, no, no. Please. No. Don’t stop.” You beg. Fuck, seeing how desprate you were for him made him grind against your ass.

“I am going to stop with my fingers. I need to be inside you. Is that okay?” He asks as he removes his fingers from inside you. You quickly nod and he sits up, quickly removing his clothing. You don’t think you had ever seen him move as quickly as he did to undress. You watch him, your hand in between your legs now, stroking at your clit softly. The minute Leon is naked he is in between your legs.

“Look at you like this… touching yourself.” His eyes admire each inch of you. He leans down towards you, his lips capturing yours. You close your eyes as you melt into the kiss. It was slow and passionate. He pulls your legs against his hips, cock gently brushing against your cunt. The moans against his lips and the feeling of your dripping cunt against his dick was so much. He was still fighting the urge to just slam into you. But he didn’t want to make it hurt more than he knew it would.

“I am going to put my dick inside you. Tell me if you want me to stop.” His pulls back from your lips enough to warn you before he takes his cock in his hand and rubs the tip against your entrance. You were still rubbing your clit and he wouldn’t stop you, knowing it may help with the pain. He takes a deep breath before sinking his cock into your tight hole.

The gasp that escapes him was not something he thought he could make. He knew you would be tight but damn. He realized you had stopped rubbing yourself as you whined in pain. He reaches to your clit, pushing your hand aside and rubbing it softly.

“Shit…” He breathes out. He could honestly cum right then and there with how you wrapped around him. You close your eyes, trying to focus on the pleasure from him rubbing your clit. Your legs were shaking from the overwhelming feeling. But not a single part of you wanted him to stop. “I am gonna move. Is that okay?”

“Please.” The word was enough for him to slowly begin to thrust his hips. You let out whimpers as you grip his biceps, nails digging into the skin.

“Is it too much?” He grunts in your ear. You shake your head quicker than you ever had before, opening your eyes and looking up at him.

“Don’t stop.” You whimper and he places his forehead to yours.

“I won’t, love.” He whispers and groans as he thrusts, each one picking up pace and lessening your pain. You slide one of your hands up his bicep and to his face, cupping his flushed cheek.

“You feel so good inside me.” You moan as your thumb strokes over his cheekbone. He leaves a soft peck to your lips. Nothing is said now. All that is heard is panting and moaning from the two of you, the bed creaking a bit with each thrust. You both were just enjoying the other's presence and the feeling of this closeness. His free arm was placed next to my head, holding himself up. You can’t help but feel even more turned on as you see the muscles of his arm flexing out of the corner of your eye.

“Fuck…” He groans, his breath fanning your face.

“Leon.” His name rolls off your tongue in the most lustful way as your moans increasingly get louder with each snap of his hips against yours.

“That’s it, love. Say my name.” A smirk graces his lips as pleasure contorts his face. Your mouth hung open as your eyebrows knit together. “Fuck, look at those faces you make. I can barely hold myself together.” He chuckles through his moans, sending another huge wave of pleasure through your body. Every touch was creating electricity within you and making you tumble closer and closer to the edge of your release.

Your back arches off the bed as you hold eye contact with Leon. Your body was trembling heavily and Leon thought about slowing down on you but fuck… he thought you look so pretty like this. A moaning mess while trembling from him. He couldn’t stop now. He was going to keep ramming into you now until you came undone on his cock.

He moves his head so his lips skim your ear and he nips at it. The little nip was enough to make you gasp as your walls clench slightly down on him.

“Fuck.” He growls, the feeling of your clenching making him struggle to hold onto his orgasm. You let out a heavy exhale that brushes his neck.

“Oh, shit… Leon.” You let out a loud whimper as the pleasure increases with each slap of your skin against his.

“How close are you, love? I don’t know if I can hold on much longer.” He grunts, each of his thrusts becoming slowly erratic.

“I am gonna cum…” You whine as he rubs fast circles on your clit.

“Cum with me baby.” He groans. That was enough to cause my tight walls to clench down on him, legs shuddering. “That’s it… That’s it, honey…” He moans just before stilling inside you and releasing deeply inside of you. The room is now filled with heavy breathing as you both come down. “So good.” He whispers in your ear and presses a soft kiss to your forehead. You close your eyes.

“Thank you.” Your voice was quiet but it was enough for Leon to hear. He presses his face into your neck, arms moving to secure your body to his.

“Don’t thank me, love. I wanted it just as much.” He mumbles, his lips brushing my neck. It all felt right. And regardless of this came from the fact that you may have a trauma bond, you were beyond happy it happened. He was worth everything.

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romione-trope-fest · 2 months

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One Bed

Fic Title: One Bed

Author Name: smjl/voldemorts-tap-shoes

Selected Trope: only one bed

Brief Summary: The horrors that the three of them—two of them more so than the other, though that’s neither here nor there at the moment—have faced so far on the horcrux hunt have been beyond Hermione’s wildest nightmares. The sight currently facing her is the worst yet.

One. Single. Bed.

Word Count: 2725

Rating: T

Any Trigger Warnings: none

***

The horrors that the three of them—two of them more so than the other, though that’s neither here nor there at the moment—have faced so far on the horcrux hunt have been beyond Hermione’s wildest nightmares. The sight currently facing her is the worst yet.

One. Single. Bed.

She’s only been in the loo for a few minutes. Just long enough to brush her teeth and change into pajamas. When she went in, there were three beds: a set of stacked bunks and a single, the same as they’ve had for months. Ron was outside, already on watch, and Harry was preparing to go out and relieve him. Already she was dreading the awkwardness of being alone in the tent with Ron. Not that he’s done hardly anything but look at her since he’s been back—damn him and that look, the look that says ‘I just poured my heart out to you in front of Harry and you haven’t even heard the half of it yet’—but one could cut the tension between them with a slicing charm.

And now this? Where are they supposed to sleep? Because that’s the only thing to do, really, since she’s certainly not ready to talk to him yet, and though she might be ready to do other things with him—in theory, anyway—her heart has put a firm Impedimenta on those thoughts too.

She finally notices Harry leaning against the kitchen island sipping on a mug of tea, his eyebrows raised in amusement over the rim of the cup. “What the hell is this?” Hermione demands, gesturing wildly at the space where their perfectly acceptable sleeping area used to be.

Harry continues to drink his tea with an infuriating degree of slowness, and Hermione thinks that she might just serve him up to Voldemort if he doesn’t explain himself soon. “This,” Harry says, setting the mug down with a dull thud, “is me getting the two of you to talk to each other.”

“You have no right to—”

“To what?” Harry interjects. “Make sure my best friends don’t kill each other? You haven’t left me much choice.”

Hermione stalks across the room, her hair crackling with fury. Harry circles the island, dodging her attempts to get her hands on him and wring his neck. “Harry James Potter, this is not funny!” she exclaims, finally surrendering to the fact that he’s faster than her. “You put it back right now!”

The tent flap rustles behind her, followed by Ron’s confused voice. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Hermione snaps without looking at him.

“Er…what happened to the bunks?”

“Nothing,” she says again, gritting her teeth as she fumbles for her wand.

Hexing Harry with it is tempting, but the more pressing matter is fixing the bed situation. Hermione brushes past Ron and points her wand at the offending furniture. “Finite.” Nothing happens. She takes a breath and tries again. “Finite incantatem.” Still nothing. She tries Geminio, Engorgio, everything she can think of, but the single tiny bunk remains resolutely unchanged, mocking her with its narrowness. She lets out a groan and turns back to Harry, ignoring Ron’s continued presence. “What did you do to this thing?”

Harry offers only a smirk in answer, clapping Ron on the shoulder as he passes him. “See you two in the morning.”

Hermione clenches her wand so tightly she’s surprised it doesn’t snap in her hand. Ron, against what must be his better judgment, gently pries her fingers from around the wood and sets it on the counter beside her. Under normal circumstances—even what was normal before he left and turned her entire world inside out—she would have given him an earful for taking her wand from her, no matter how good his intentions might have been. At the moment, though, she’s too distracted by the fiendfyre his touch has sent racing up her arm, threatening to consume her.

“It’s not a big deal,” Ron says, already moving away from her, blissfully unaware of the effect he has on her as she remains frozen. “I’ll sleep on the couch.”

He has his boots kicked off and his jumper tugged over his head to fling across the arm of the sofa before Hermione manages to recover. “I suppose you think you’re very clever, getting Harry to do your dirty work for you,” she snarls at him. Anything to distract herself from the glimpse of his pale skin that she got a moment ago when his t-shirt stuck to his sweater as he pulled it off, revealing a smattering of freckles and a trail of ginger hair that disappeared beneath the waistband of his joggers. She needs to think of anything but that.

Ron merely quirks an eyebrow at her before flopping onto the lumpy cushions of the sofa, his legs dangling off the end almost from the knee down. Before, he would have gone toe-to-toe with her, told her she was barking mad, and they’d have had a row that set her heart racing in more ways than one. Now, he doesn’t rise to the bait; it feels wrong. “I didn’t have anything to do with it, Hermione.”

His pale lashes brush his cheeks as he closes his eyes, signaling the conversation closed even as he shifts and squirms on the sofa, trying to get comfortable. Hermione allows herself a final huff of annoyance as she crosses to the single bed and extinguishes the lights in the tent.

Whatever spell Harry put on the bed, he neglected to do anything similar to the bedding, leaving Hermione no choice but to sleep under Ron’s blanket, her head on Ron’s pillow. Despite her anger, she can’t help but drink in his scent, that familiar woodsy, spicy aroma with just a hint of something sweet, as if he’s always got a Chocolate Frog in his pocket.

The bed is more comfortable than it was before, too—some sort of cushioning charm, maybe, that Hermione wishes she’d thought of herself when they first landed in the woods—and she feels a pang of guilt at the sound of Ron still fidgeting on the sofa.

You didn’t do this. It’s not your job to fix it.

She’s thinking about the bed, of course, but the same could be said of her relationship with Ron. They had formally declared exactly nothing about their feelings for each other before he left, but it was there. She knew it was. It was infused in every innocent brush of their fingers as they studied maps and books together, in the way he said her name, in the way he looked at her. Different than the look he gives her now, but equally weighted with emotion and things unsaid.

But then he left. Gone, in an instant, without a second thought or backwards glance at her. In her more clear headed moments throughout those interminable weeks, she thought it mustn’t have been about her. He’d rowed with Harry that night; he was tired, hungry, worried about his family. Not that that was an excuse—they all were feeling all of those things—but she tried to tell herself that his feelings for her were a separate issue.

Are they? She doesn’t know. He nearly said as much the night he came back—damn if his story about the deluminator wasn’t the most romantic thing she’d ever heard—but she’s been too hurt to hear more. And besides, they’re still on the mission that spawned their hesitation in the first place. If there were no Voldemort, she thinks they’d have been properly sorted last summer, enjoying their seventh year at Hogwarts, maybe as Head Boy and Girl. Their own living quarters with plenty of privacy for—no, don’t go there.

Instead they’re here: Hermione wide awake staring at the canvas ceiling of the tent; Ron tossing and turning on the sofa across the room. She wonders if the lumpy cushions are the only reason he can’t sleep, or if perhaps his brain is torturing him with this same line of thought—or worse. He’s hinted at something more with the locket, some particular brand of malice that the cursed necklace saved just for him.

But she hasn’t been ready to hear more about that either. It’s a waiting game, like always. Waiting for her heart to give her permission to let him back in, or for Ron’s newfound patience with her to give out and for him to force his way back in. She thinks she’d be okay with either, honestly; on a fundamental level, she appreciates the space he’s given her since he’s been back, but it also feels like a hollow shell of their relationship. It doesn’t feel like them.

“Ron?” she calls tentatively. She doesn’t want to rouse him if he’s actually fallen asleep, though she’s fairly certain from the sound of his breathing that he hasn’t, and his answer comes without missing a beat.

“Yeah?” She hears the hope in his tone, and it twists her stomach into knots. Only once or twice has she addressed him directly since his return, and she knows they’re both wondering if maybe the ice is beginning to thaw.

“Whatever Harry did to the bed…it’s more comfortable now.”

A soft snort comes from Ron’s direction. “That’s nice for you.”

“Do you want to share?”

There’s a moment of loaded silence before Ron asks, “Share what?”

She could only possibly mean one thing given the context, but she doesn’t blame him for asking because it’s such a wildly ludicrous suggestion that she also can’t possibly mean that. “The bed.”

The tent is so quiet that she’s sure Ron can hear her heart pounding, hear the way her breath hitches when his blankets rustle and his feet touch the floor. His steps are slow and methodical as he approaches the bed, full of hesitation. He stops at the edge of the mattress, and suddenly his wand is in her face, though there’s humor in his voice when he asks, “Who are you, and what have you done with Hermione Granger?”

Hermione swats at his wand and rolls her eyes. “Very funny,” she retorts, injecting her voice with as much sarcasm as she can muster. Her heart is leaping in her chest, screaming at her—This! This is what we’ve been missing!—but she’s determined to let sensibility win. She hasn’t forgiven him, and she frames the suggestion to share the bed as a matter of logistics. “You’re no good to anyone if you don’t get some sleep, and this bed is still plenty big for the two of us.”

Plenty big is a gross exaggeration, but it’s big enough. Hermione slides all the way to the inside edge of the mattress and turns on her side, away from Ron. It takes several long minutes for Ron to follow, sliding under the covers beside her inch by inch, as if he thinks at any moment she’s going to roll back over and hex him. That’s probably a fair assumption, considering their history, but it’s not something he has to worry about tonight.

Once settled, Ron lays stiff as a board at the other edge of the mattress. She’s slept on the bunk beneath him for long enough now to know that he is a deep but restless sleeper, always unconsciously moving or rolling over or kicking the blankets off or pulling them back up through a ceaseless chorus of snores. Tonight, there is none of that. He is still not sleeping.

Neither is she, of course. The palpable tension building in the small space between them is almost unbearable. This was a stupid idea she had. So naturally, she blames Ron.

“Will you relax?” she hisses over her shoulder at him, as if his sleeping in the bed beside her is a perfectly normal occurrence that shouldn’t have either of them so wound up.

“If you want me to be comfortable, then you need to relax,” Ron fires back. “This was your idea.”

“Well, if you’re not comfortable, then you might as well just go back and sleep on the couch.” Hermione flops over onto her back and gives Ron a hard shove in the arm to move him in that direction. He’s so close to the edge of the bed that he almost tumbles off it, but he catches himself and rebounds back toward her, his eyes flashing with irritation.

“Hermione, what the fu—”

The swear dies on his lips as he realizes the position they’re now in, one of his hands on either side of her face as his body hovers above hers. Her palm lands feebly against his chest, a ghost of the initial impulse to push him away, and she feels his heart thundering against his ribs. Neither of them moves, too terrified that the next decision they make is going to be the wrong one, and a different but familiar tension settles over them.

Ron seems to be even more frozen than she is; the only movement is his eyes flickering across her face, searching for an answer, and Hermione knows that she has to be the one to decide where this goes next. She could still push him away, and he would go without a fight.

She doesn’t want to push him away.

Her fingers curl into a fist, pulling the fabric of his t-shirt into her grasp. “I’m still mad at you,” she says breathlessly. She would hate how desperate her voice sounds if she had any brain cells left functioning to care about such things. As it is, they’ve all abandoned their posts to focus on the way Ron’s eyes seem to darken with every passing moment and the attempt to catalog the exact shade of pink of his tongue as it darts out to wet his lips.

Ron gives a tiny nod in answer. “I know.”

“And this is not why I asked you to share the bed.”

His laughter vibrates against her hand. “I know that, too.”

“But I missed you,” she admits in a whisper. Ron’s expression softens, and the way he breathes out her name, his husky voice caressing every syllable, pushes her over the edge.

Hermione tugs firmly at his shirt to pull him down to her, and any lingering hesitation between them vanishes as their lips crash together. It’s impossible to doubt Ron’s feelings for her when his mouth is on hers, hungry and insistent after so much time spent holding back. She notes with some amusement as his tongue seeks hers that he tastes a bit like chocolate too, which should be impossible since there hasn’t been any in the tent for weeks but doesn’t totally surprise her.

She meets every move he makes and matches it with equal fervor, letting her hand drift up past the stubble on his cheek to tangle in his hair, pulling him even closer. Ron groans softly as he drops his weight to his elbows, engulfing her. Now that they’ve started, Hermione never wants to stop kissing him, but her lungs are beginning to protest, and she forces her lips away from his with a deep gasp for air.

The rapid rise and fall of Ron’s chest tells her he has the same need, but he doesn’t pull away from her completely, alternating his breaths with soft kisses to her cheek and then her neck. “I’m sorry, Hermione,” he murmurs, pressing the words into her skin. “I’m so, so sorry.”

His apology puts a lump in her throat and tears in her eyes. She knows he’s sorry for leaving—she does, she knows—but it doesn’t make the pain go away. Still, she takes a deep breath and tugs his face back to hers to look him in the eye when she replies, “I know you are.” It’s the best she can do right now. She’ll forgive him eventually—she’s probably further along that path than she wants to admit, already—but it’s going to take time.

Ron seems to understand, his nose brushing against hers as he nods and leans in for one more gentle kiss before rolling off to his side. “Reckon we should put the beds back?”

Even if Hermione knew how to, she’d rather not. At least, not for tonight. She shakes her head and snuggles up against Ron’s side. He settles the blanket over them both, letting his arm curl around her shoulders as she whispers, “In the morning.”

#submission

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marsspeedway · 2 months

Text

I think Tumblr likes the COLLEGE AU and I love the AUs…. THEN GABRIEL PLAYS THE VIOLIN (the original idea) AND THE KEYBOARD WHY NOT.

The fanfic was inspired by: https://www.tumblr.com/themachine/742337025681850368/happy-friends-day-everybody

If you are willing to read 2725 words of a work in progress about Gabriel and V1 here it is: *English is not my first language so sorry if there are mistakes, this is mostly translated with an online translator and some corrections by me.

Gabriel really didn't expect to find some dusty old belongings when he returned to his parents' house for a small family dinner with his mother, his two older brothers and a few other relatives he's not very close to. He didn't expect to find Michael so excited when his mother pointed out that he was in the attic, nor did he expect Michael to have taken most of the items out of the boxes when he got there.

The items were scattered on the floor, a few other boxes and the small folding table they kept there. Most of it was his father's stuff, junk or trash he doesn't care about but knows his mother doesn't have the heart to throw away; not when it's the last memories she has of his father before he disappeared.

Gabriel remembers him: a tall, elegant man, extremely strict and whom he had very little time to be around. Even his brothers, who should have known him better, don't know much about him either.

Now, standing here in the dusty air caused by Michael snooping and rummaging through boxes, Gabriel looks around. The attic is not small although neither is his house so he finds it normal. They keep huge amounts of antiques from his grandparents and even great-grandparents or older ancestors that he has only heard stories about. For example: an old desk that belonged to a writer in his family, one of those huge clocks that he remembers they had for a long time in their living room and that he still remembers jumping out of fright every time it rang, Raphael's old drum set is also lying around dismantled and of course Michael's cello in a corner next to the drums on the floor.

Gabriel looks at them and clearly remembers that these things didn't go there, these used to be in a deeper part of the attic.

"What are you looking at Gabe?"

The young man turned his head when he detected his brother's voice and silently motioned with his head towards the instruments. The man walked over, standing next to Gabriel to look at what he was referring to.

"Ah those old things? Well, I thought I'd take my cello to practice again and Raphael wanted his drums too." Michael explained as he folded his arms and then hummed softly, Gabriel raised an eyebrow under his helmet without turning to look at him. "Just in case you want to know…" Michael said slowly, moving closer to Gabriel to slip an arm around his neck and leaning his weight on him.

This couldn't be good.

"Your keyboard and violin are in the back…" GOD DAMN- "I don't mean you should use them, you know…I was just reminding you in case you want them back or want to do something with them." Michael had to have felt him tense up and he definitely did; the way he gently bumped the sides of their heads together with the slight click of the metal of their helmets touching, the way he stroked his back reassuringly, the way he let him go when he felt Gabriel stir.

"You can get rid of them, you don't have to keep them." The older man reminded him by giving him a friendly pat on the shoulder before releasing him completely. "If you want them go ahead, they're in the back on the left… Call me if you need help with anything, yes?" Michael said as he walked away with Gabriel giving him a simple thumbs up in affirmation mode and drawing a chuckle from Michael as he gently shook his head. Sometimes he wondered where his brother had picked up such quiet habits.

When Gabriel watched Michael disappear down the stairs he turned around, hesitating for a second whether to actually go further into the attic but after a few seconds he decided to do so, sighing and spreading his wings to illuminate the area.

The further he goes in he can see more and more boxes, some sealed with tape and others just closed, others possibly opened by Michael and resting on or at the foot of some rotting furniture.

After poking around a bit Gabriel manages to get to the bottom, catching a somewhat large object that is covered by a dark tarp.

Gabriel swallows.

He reaches over, reaching down to drag the heavy tarp off the object's surface and drop it to the ground, revealing what's underneath: his old keyboard.

Okay, one of two… Where's the other one? Gabriel scans the area with his eyes, settling his attention on an old chair where, on the seat, rests a case now whitish thanks to the accumulated dust. Gabriel reaches over, running a hand over it in an attempt to clean it up a bit though it only spreads it further and decides to leave it alone, picking it up and taking it with him to where the keyboard is.

Gabriel used to love these things, don't get him wrong, but now that he remembers their existence and knows that Michael also knows they are here he doesn't hesitate to have his brother tell his mother about his rediscovery and his plans with his old cello. Gabriel's mother is a bit… intense when it comes to music or dance or waltz or whatever it is she likes.

She had made her 3 children practice ballet, she had rehearsed them for the fancy parties that were organized among the rich families in an attempt to make them gentlemen who knew how to waltz well with the damsels, she had put them in an orchestra and also a choir and of course she had made them attend church. It had been fun for a while; when they could play together and have fun or when they practiced anything whenever. But when Michael and Raphael began to have more duties and obligations they began to drift away; leaving Gabriel alone to face it all.

He danced, played, sang, attended mass every Sunday and was a good student until he too could quit like his brothers.

He remembers the moment when his mother informed him that he could stop his extracurricular activities, he remembers how he simply covered his keyboard and put away his violin for the last time one day and never played them again. He knows the same thing happened to his bible now lying somewhere in the bedroom he shares with V1, abandoned when he stumbled upon the blue machine that slowly pulled him away from the path of God his family had instilled in him to follow.

Ah… V1.

Well, now he no doubt knows someone who will be interested in the instruments. He doesn't plan to give them to them, he still loves them and wants to try them again but surely he can lend them to them if they ask for them. Taking them to them sounds like a good idea since besides cheering up the machine he has for a roommate he can practice and try to de-rust a bit before the recital he is sure his mother will force convince them to do.

Gabriel made a mental note to take them with him tomorrow morning when he went back to his dorm, maybe carrying them there won't be so comfortable but it will certainly be worth it to see V1, his friend, happy.

…

The dinner went well, honestly much better than he expected and he was happy with that. Especially since he managed to avoid all the questions about the church he attended, his schedule or if he had already conquered a lady. Of course he had! But it's different to ask that question than to ask if a lady had conquered him, because certainly hadn't. Not when there was a cerulean machine waiting for him in his apartment… FRIENLY- THEY'RE HIS FRIENDS. HE JUST LIKED THEM.

Anyway… It was good. Certainly much better than the last family dinner they had at Christmas. Gabriel never wants to see Michael angry again, that much is clear to him.

He doesn't remember why they had started fighting because, honestly, he hadn't been paying attention. Gabriel was more interested in eating or thinking about what he would do when he got back to his bedroom, thinking about the gift he had bought for V1 that was now hiding in his closet: a replica gun from a game that V1 had been looking for for some time now and that Gabriel had found in perfect condition at a garage sale. Even packaged and with its 4 coins! With the 'Marksman' in his possession V1 almost completed their collection.

Gabriel felt a little proud to have found it. It's old, he knows that, and he also knows that V1 would love it.

He was so deep in thought at the time that he didn't even notice when the voices around him began to raise and only noticed when a bump on the table made him jump in place and nearly spill the spoonful of mashed potato that was going straight into his mouth.

Ah… Another family situation. Nothing new for the times.

Whatever, the point is that this dinner was better than Christmas. And if you'd like to know: yes, V1 absolutely loved the gift. And Gabriel received a new microphone that he had been wanting to buy for a long time: now he could better record his little audios and attempts at home podcasts.

To commemorate the gift V1 opened it carefully, not wanting to damage anything in the slightest because: 1, it was a collector's item and 2, it was a gift from Gabriel. Instead the microphone was lightly tested, saving the real test for later when V1 received an audio from Gabriel that DEFINITELY tested the capabilities of the device.

V1 saved the audio.

Even if it was a silly audio of Gabriel basically mumbling into the microphone in a seductive, gravelly voice that he would kick their ass if they left a mess in the apartment again.

V1 saved the audio.

And now there was Gabriel, walking across campus in the direction of his shared residence hall with a keyboard under his arm and a violin case in his other hand along with his backpack on his back. It was less uncomfortable than he thought it would be although being a 6 foot tall, heavily muscled guy he doubted he would have much trouble with lifting that amount of weight.

When he found himself in front of the door he thought about knocking and waiting to see if the machine was home in the hope that they would open it for him but when he distinguished the sound of an electric guitar on the other side he considered that it would be better not to disturb them in one of their practices.

He fumbled to pass the violin case to his other hand and used the now free one to rummage in his pants pocket for his keys, snapping them into the lock when he found them and turning it to open the lock. The door opened and he was glad when the old hinge didn't squeak knowing that V1 had oiled it as he had asked.

He walked in closing the door behind him and finding his living room in a much better state than he thought it would be. The cushions were a bit of a mess but other than that everything was in its place: the small coffee table was clean with nothing on it, the bookshelves were still tidy, the couches weren't out of place and there was no junk around.

It was a relief.

The familiar sound of the electric guitar quieted for a moment and left him in total silence as he placed the keyboard on the larger couch and on it he laid the violin case, then as he took off his backpack Gabriel gave a nod and at the same time the guitar restarted loudly as Gabriel knew it would. The angel could easily imagine V1 doing the same as him only in a more passionate way and lost in the frenzy of the song: more intense and violent.

He took off his coat, leaving it hanging on the coat rack in the entryway as he made his way down the hallway humming the guitar melody before catching one of the lyrics and singing it quietly.

Rock hadn't been something he'd listened to much growing up, much less metal but he'd certainly grown fond of it since V1 started showing them to him and unconsciously, or consciously, they had become two of his favorite genres. He would deny it with V1, feigning annoyance when the machine would put music on the speakers or when they played a song he knew but they would quickly catch Gabriel humming softly or bobbing his head to the music but would say nothing about it. They would let it happen and enjoy the company in the moment.

At the end of the hallway was the bathroom and before that were the two rooms of the apartment: one facing the other. The doors matched and Gabriel remembers how more than once they both tried to leave at the same time without being aware of each other's presence and how they bumped into each other. At first they were annoyed, really only Gabriel was, but slowly as their friendship grew they both took it more gracefully; like a little attunement.

They learned each other's schedules so it didn't happen so often. Gabriel gets up first thing, at 5am to shower and take his time in the bathroom, at 5:30 the bathroom is free for V1 to use at 6am when they wake up and when they leave breakfast is prepared and ready on the table: blood and whatever Gabriel is going to eat. At 6:30 the dishes are clean and they both share the bathroom to finish getting ready: V1 wipes the unabsorbed or dried blood off the plating and Gabriel does whatever it is that angels do under that helmet of his. V1 still doesn't understand it, they just know it's like washing his mouth or brushing his teeth or something… Oh, and that Gabriel doesn't take off his helmet… Just like he doesn't take it off to eat.

Peeking through V1's half-open doorframe Gabriel watches them from behind, strumming the strings of their guitar with fervor and excitement as they nod their head before the song ends and thus they too must hit their last note.

The angel leans back against the door and watches fondly as the machine sucks in air and listens as the fans spin in the sudden silence, the machine's chest rises and falls in pseudo breaths in an attempt to keep their components cool after the intense movement and Gabriel laughs softly as he claps his hands, making the machine turn their head in his direction.

"Good job there, that sounds great!" Gabriel complimented as he walked into the room, V1 turning fully around to sign a 'thank you'.

"How was your weekend?" Gabriel asked approaching the robot who already knew his intentions since they saw him walking towards them slightly opening his arms.

"Pretty good. We practiced a lot and made progress on a few songs. How about you?" V1 signed before opening their arms and accepting Gabriel between them, letting themselves be squeezed by the strong angel in front of them.

"I'm glad you had a good time." Gabriel murmured sweetly, slouching down and resting his chin on the machine's shoulder. "A good family dinner, you know how they usually are…" Gabriel whispered soothingly, closing his eyes as he enjoyed the affection and feel of the metal of V1's arms around him.

"I also have something to show you." Gabriel hummed, pulling away and placing his hands on V1's shoulders. At the man's words the robot perked up, pulling away from him to bounce in place with excitement and curiosity, drawing a chuckle from Gabriel.

"Come, follow me." He said, sliding his hand down his companion's arm and taking their hand before leading them out of the room. V1 didn't complain, this had been something Gabriel had been doing unconsciously for the past few weeks and V1 found it harmless, almost cute if not charming.

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