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mintmatcha · 30 days

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Inevitable Things: chapter two

aizawa x reader fic

cw: aizawa x reader, cisfem reader, office AU, no quirks. no porn in first two chapters, sorry gang :)

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When you arrive at 8:35, all of the lights in the building are already on, a warm, yellow hued light against the stormy sky. The exterior almost melts into the overcast; it makes you think of that ‘bye-bye blue' that Disney coined for its buildings, only much more depressing. Sometimes you look at this build and think about the hours of your life that it’s stolen, but not today. No, for once, you decide to have a good day.

It’s your birthday, after all.

The dash across the parking lot is a bit wobbly, your heels catching the gravel and potholes. Mic had texted you last night to remind you to wear something special, since he and a couple other office friends were taking you out, so you had dawned the only pair of heels you actually liked: a red pair you found at a thrift shop years ago. The stilettos are a bit high and much too sexy for your taste, but there’s an unknowable something about them that you love.

You did, however, forget your umbrella.

One of the interns is by the door, jacket pulled over his head to protect himself and his cigarette from the rain. Izuku, chubby cheeked and doe eyed, is shorter than most of his peers, with thick green curls that puff up and frizz in the humidity. For his stature, he’s surprisingly built; he and his boyfriend -no, fiance now- go to the gym together every morning and the hard work shows. You can’t help but notice the curve of bicep that flexes as he moves his arm back to his face.

“Good morning!” you call out. The weather is cool, so you wrap both hands around your special little birthday latte. Izuku seems unphased by the weather; he sniffles a bit as he pulls another drag, freckled nose wrinkling. The red stained rims of his eyes are stark against his tan skin.

“Yeah.” He sucks in a breath, trying to keep his voice light and failing. His Southern draw sits heavy on his tongue. “Not quite.”

“Oh no, what happened?” Rain drives a shiver up your spine and so does the look in his eyes.

“Like, okay, it was so-” He takes another thick pull and exhales it too quickly, coughing a bit as he talks. His ideas come faster than his mouth can handle. “First thing this morning-- well, actually, Ka-chan and I got here before anybody, so it wasn’t, like, first thing-first thing, you know? Anyway, like- thirty minutes after the first thing, when Mr. Aizawa arrived, he like, didn’t even set his stuff down before he told me to get into the conference room, which is crazy because he usually won’t do anything until you’re here and-”

“Izuku, focus.”

“I am focused-- these are important details! Mr. Aizawa pulled me into a conference room this morning and reamed me out. Incompetent: he called me lazy and incompetent, which is crazy because I do so much in this department! You wouldn’t believe it! And you know what Ka did? Laughed. He could hear it from the cubicle and he laughed, isn’t that awful? We’re getting married and yet he thinks it's okay to laugh at my misfortun-?”

“Wait, slow down,” you say. “Why were you yelled at?”

Izuku takes a dramatic gulp of air to slow himself, but it clearly does nothing. His finger twiddle the cigarette back and forth, ash falling to the puddle at his feet.. “He told me the work I turned in yesterday wasn't acceptable.”

It couldn't be the things you did. There’s no way; you’re smart -- well, okay, maybe not. You’re competent at least-- competent enough that you’ve done the reports previously without any complaints.

“No.”

“It's my fault.” Izuku continues. His accent gets thicker when it’s holding worry, clipping words and rounding out other sounds. “I should have finished them myself, but Denki offered to help me out-- and I had a meeting with the wedding planner yesterday so I had to leave early; if i was late again I would have upset Mitsuki and I couldn’t upset Mitsuki again because she’s intense, like, way more intense that Katsuki ever is, so I’m a little terrified of her-”

Fuck. You can’t listen- you’re trying to focus on keeping your breakfast down. That was your work. You’re the one that made Izuku and Denki look bad.

“-Biomedical engineering. Why did I pick biomedical engineering? I should have chosen law school like Iida. That would have been a better career path.”

“What about Denki?” You interrupt his rambling and he seems to snap out of his panic loop. For once, he’s quiet. “What about Denki, Izuku?”

“Oh.” Izuku says. “Yeah. Well.”

He places the cigarette between his teeth and goes to suck, only to realize he’s hit the filter. With a tsk, he smashes the embers against the concrete side of the building, but doesn’t drop the butt, instead holding it in his palm. A trickle of rain runs down your cheek, just enough to make you shiver.

“Allegedly,” Now, he speaks too slowly, chewing on every word. “HR is working on his off boarding.”

Your body forgets how to breathe. The interns are all part of a specific college program- if they aren’t working, they don’t get credit towards their summer graduation. Because of you, Denki will not be graduating this spring-- in fact, he’s going to have to wait another full school year until he can apply for graduating again. Your head is spinning from the lack of oxygen and you have to manually force yourself to suck in a breath.

“He’s fired?” you ask, stupidly.

“I’m not surprised, to be honest.” Izuku says. His pretty little curls are flattened now, heavy with wet. “This was his fifth big mistake and Mr. Aizawa is, well… he’s Mr. Aizawa. He doesn’t pull any punches.”

“Oh, geez.” You want to barf. “Oh, no, oh, geez.”

You’re ruining someone's life. One mistake and you’ve fucked everything up. Tears prickle hot behind your eyes as you think; what are your options here? You can’t just let this happen. Your job is to fix things-- that’s the only thing you’re good for. Discussing this with Aizawa would be a dead end; he’d probably just fire you too. You need to go above him.

“I’ll fix this,” you say, mostly to reassure yourself. You turn on your heel and march inside, a plan already forming in your mind. “Don’t worry.”

“Fix what?” Izuku calls after you. “Denki getting fired?”

You flash the security officer your badge, not bothering to turn around. There’s no time for that. The head of HR is usually punctual, so you only have a couple minutes before he arrives and sees the termination paperwork. It’ll take time to process, of course, but you’d rather fix this before it’s even reached that point. You scramble to your desk and don’t bother to sit down before you’re picking up your phone and dialing. The number is posted on a little sticky note, right under ‘emergencies only’ written in big red letters. This… counts, right? This is an emergency in its own regard.

The line rings once, then twice. Then, it clicks.

“Good morning.” The voice on the other side is unusually smooth, a clear timbre despite it all. In between words he takes long, drawing breaths, pulling through his nasal cannula. “Is my company? On fire?”

You laugh at that and you aren’t sure why. Maybe it’s the trill of fear in your gut, burrowing its way out anyway it can. “Good morning, sir. No, the building is still standing, luckily.”

“Please," he says, and you understand immediately.

“Yagi.” The informality of it all feels weird, even after all this time. He's the CEO and he wants you to address him like a friend. It’s been that way since you first started, but it still feels undeserved. “How are you?”

“I’m well.” Behind him you can hear the mumble of the television: a children’s show, you think. “My niece is visiting. So, I’ve been. Spending a lot of time. By the pond, feeding the ducks.”

He mentioned once that he had wanted children, but the company had taken up too much of his time. That memory makes your gut twist in a different way as you remember just how finite his time really is.

“That sounds lovely.”

“It is lovely.” He pauses. Then, clears his throat. “Not that I’m. Not happy to hear from you, but… why are you calling?”

“Well, I-” You’re not sure where to start. You shift your weight from one foot to the other, swaying like you have to pee. “I made a mistake.”

“What kind of mistake?”

“Not a company ruining one, but…” Oh, geez. Maybe you'll end up being the one without a job today. “I finalized some work for the engineering department interns and it wasn’t up to standard. And the manager-”

“-Shouta?”

“Yes, uh. Aizawa. He wasn’t aware of that fact and he fired the intern for work that I did.”

There's a pause.

“Are you sure?” He sniffles a bit. You can picture how he itches his nose with the back of his hand. He hates that tube. “I know he isn’t. The warmest man, but Aizawa. Isn’t one to fire. An employee without. Apt reason. Have you tried. Speaking to him?”

You can’t. The idea of confrontation makes your skin itch. Besides, you can’t just look him in the eyes and admit you fucked up-- he’d lose his mind.

“I just can’t let Kaminari get in trouble for my work.”

Yagi hums a low tone.

“I’ll bring it. To Shouta’s attention.” You almost jump for joy at that. “And I’ll let HR. Know.”

“Oh, thank you.” You’re physically bouncing. “I felt so guilty.”

“That’s under. Standable.” he says. “Maybe we. Have the engineers. Do their own work from now on, okay?”

“I know, I know, I just--” Can’t say no? “I like to be useful.”

“You’re more than useful.” His voice is warm, almost paternal. “I’m being told that I have an episode of Bluey to watch, so…”

“Goodbye, have fun, thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You hang up, then wait a couple beats before sighing with relief. Crisis avoided! Happy birthday to you! Maybe, against all odds, this will be a good day.

You drop into your seat and let it spin. Your latte isn’t hot anymore, but even lukewarm it’s still pretty damn good. After it boots up, your computer notifications are alight with companies wishing you a happy day and a merry 30% off. There’s a couple of DMs from coworkers that you haven’t opened yet as well and the attention makes you glitter.You almost forget that Touya still hasn't read your messages. It's not a surprise; he always forgets your birthday. It shouldn’t upset you at this point.

The workday official starts and, for once, it’s calm. There’s time to organize your desk and check on your facebook. Maybe, just maybe, the universe has decided to be kind to you. Yagi sounded better than he usually does, if not a bit winded.

You’re thirty, but you don’t feel older. 18 feels like last week, 25 is still your friend. Being this old almost feels like a joke-- especially being this old and single, with a job you’re not passionate about. You thought, maybe, that things would be okay by now. You’d be successful, with more than a couple hundred in your checking account, and a husband that could return a fucking text. Life, of course, had other plans.

It’s not that you don’t love Touya. You do. You really do. You just wish that you didn’t. It's easier to love someone like Hizashi or a boring man from R&D, but being with him feels like running on sand as it sinks down an hourglass. You're too far gone already, too intertwined with him; fate has linked you to a man that will inevitably break your heart, over and over again.

You almost don’t notice the stomp of boots down the hallway until it’s too late. You’ve been eclipsed.

Aizawa turns the corner so quickly that you jump and spill your coffee. His brow furrowed so deeply that his ‘11’ lines have gained an extra 1, and extra wrinkles have puckered around his straight drawn mouth. When he speaks, his lips curl up in one corner in revulsion, giving you a hint of canine. Someone from marketing walks down the hall, meets your eyes, then turns back around, fleeing it away from this situation. You wish you could do the same.

His hands press flat against your desk. The space he takes up alone makes you wilt, drawing back into your chair. Oh, he's pissed. Beyond pissed. His hair is down for once, falling in front of his face as he talks, and his hoodie sleeves are pushed to his elbows, revealing the punched, tense muscle underneath. The finer hairs on his arms are raised up into goosebumps, standing straight like pins.

“If you have a problem with the way I run my department,” Aizawa seethes. “At least have the balls to say it to my face.”

The air in your lungs turns icy. You’re frozen there, hands hovering above your keyboard, unsure if you should even pick up your drink.

“On what planet is it acceptable to tattle on me to the CEO?” His voice carries down the hall as he growls at you, the low, rolling tone of his voice somehow more terrifying than actual yelling. He reminds you of a wild dog, ears pinned back and ready to bite. And you’re just the poor rabbit in his path. “And to HR? Are you fucking kidding? You’re better than this.”

Oh, this is the type of interaction you were trying to avoid. Heat flares across your cheeks as you sputter and you frantically look anywhere else to avoid the burn. “I-- uh--”

“Did the interns come crying to you again?” Aizawa continues. “Did you let them walk all over you again?”

He leans in even closer.

“You are not their mother or their friend. They are adults. With jobs. And they do not need the secretary saving them from work they are paid to do-- especially Kaminari, who regularly abuses your good faith.”

Your shoes. You focus on those. Your pretty, candy red heels with the delicate strap, the ones Touya always compliments and the ones that make you feel beautiful.

“Calling Toshinori? May I remind you that he is actively dying? May I remind you that you are actively wasting his time with this?"

Shoes, look at your shoes.

"I also don’t have the fucking time for this. We are a business in a time crunch-- I don’t have the energy or brain power or man power to be dragging around dead weight," he says. "If I decide someone isn't fit enough to work here, they are not fit to work here. Do you understand that?”

Oh. A sudden, horrible realization hits you. All of the weeks of stress and loneliness and heartbreak and other random bullshit that’s built up in your life is hitting all at once and, despite how hard you’re trying not to, you are going to cry. Tears are prickling hot against the corners of your eyes, burning to come out, and you know there’s only second before they spill over-

“Do you understand that?”

You look up. He looks down. Your lip quivers.

Aizawa immediately draws back, eyes widening with realization. He opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again, drawing in a short breath. His brows are pinched together differently now; if he was anyone else, you’d assume he was sorry. If he was anyone else, you might care.

“I didn’t mean to…” he tries.

“You’re-” You want to scream and fight and curse, but all you can say is: “I hate you.”

It’s incredibly juvenile, but saying it feels good. With all of the fury you can muster, you stand, chair bouncing back against the wall behind you, and march out of there and straight into the women’s bathroom. You hold your chin high until the door slams behind you.

Then, you sob. It’s loud enough that you know it can be heard in the hall, wet enough that all of your make-up ends on the back of your hands, hard enough that you lose one of your contacts, but you just can’t stop. It comes in a torrent, one that doesn’t stop until you’re all blurry eyed and swollen and absolutely, positively destroyed.

Fucking astrology. Fucking Aizawa. Fucking work. Fucking Touya. Fucking turning thirty.

Your heels look stupid against the blue and white linoleum. The faux leather no longer looks convincing, but like cheap, normal plastic. Your cellphone is still on your desk and covered in an 8 dollar latte, so there's nothing to distract you from your own downward spiral. You want to be helpful. You want to be a good person, but nothing seems to work out that way.

By the time you manage to peel yourself out of the bathroom stall, the world has started to turn again. Someone’s at the coffee station, stirring in way too many sugars, someone else is taking on the phone just out of earshot. Aizawa is thankfully gone. You’re not sure you could have handled more of that.

Frankly, you’re not sure you can handle more of anything. You strip your other contact from your eye and throw on your only other option: the emergency glasses you have stashed in your desk. Great, as if you didn't feel bad enough already, now you feel ugly too.

A ping comes through from HR, letting you know that you have sick time available 'if need be.’ For once, the office gossip works in your favor. You shoot off a quick reply, confirming that you're going to head out, then grab your phone. It's sticky and wet, but it still works.

do you want to leave work early and go get drunk?<-

Hizashi’s response is almost immediate.

->leave work early????? who is this and what have you done with my babygirl?????

-is that a no? ): <-

->are you kidding?????? I’ll be at your desk in 15

You are going to get drunk. Very. Very. Drunk.

191 notes · View notes

occasionally-good-authoring · 1 year

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Chimera and the Wolf- Chapter Five

@indigothemuse @squishmallow36 meet lev, a character that is objectively hilarious

Marius

Ares passes the next month in detention, Nica in the library, and Marius trying to satiate his parents. He sits in Division of Magicks, wondering how long he can go without making his next move. The teacher, one Mr. Karim, talks about the difference between ghost spells and necromancy spells. Marius always thought it was obvious; one brings back what’s left of the soul, one brings back the corporeal form

He takes notes anyway. Mr. Karim only allows retakes if there are good notes, and on the off chance Marius needs one, he’ll be taking it.

“Now, that’s not to say that these spells have no overlap. Often, one needs to intertwine ghost and necromancy spells to properly bring back a person,” Mr. Karim says. He shakes his head with a laugh. “The question of should you do that, is a question for M. Rosen down in Ethics. Speaking of which, who was them next period?”

Marius and another kid, from Kelpie House he thinks, raise their hands.

“Great, bring this up to them, sure they’ll love it.”

“Sure thing, Mr. Karim,” the kid chirps, kicking his feet up on the desk. His shoes have been painted and written on, certainly not up to Adrien’s standards. Marius scoffs.

“Thank you, Lev.”

The boy–Lev, apparently–turns back to Marius with a crooked smile. His face is covered in freckles and he’s not even wearing a tie. His blazer is covered in patches, flags and sayings and logos, only a few Marius recognizes. The green and blue flag on his shoulder makes Marius look back down to his notebook. He still hears the slight laugh, just as crooked as Lev’s smile.

He keeps his head down for the rest of class, ignoring the few times he feels Lev’s eyes look back to him.

He can’t be more happy when the bell rings. Lev won’t pay attention to him past this period, would he? Marius has crafted himself not to draw attention. Uniform is always perfect, no personalization of anything. He fades out of people's mind after he leaves and that’s the way it’s supposed to work. The way it will work. Lev lasting all of Division of Magicks is a fluke, an exception. It’ll all go back to normal in Ethics. He assures himself further as he fights through the crowded hallways on his way to Ethics. It’s all the way across the school, and even with the seven minute passing periods it’s hard to get all the way there from Division of Magicks.

When he finally gets to the classroom, the bell rings as he steps through the threshold. He slips quietly into a seat in the back of the room and scans the room for Lev. The desks are in pairs, no one siting next to Marius. Lev isn’t anywhere to be seen. Marius chooses to take that as a blessing. Now Lev will really forget him.

M. Rosen walks across the room from their desk to the door, closing it then walking back. They don’t sit down, instead tapping their throat, white sparks on both the chalkboard and their throat. Their words appear on the chalkboard as they talk

“Today we’ll be talking about the ethics of–”

The door opens, Lev leaning forward on the doorknob.

“Necromancy, due to Mr. Karim’s suggestion,” he says. There’s a airy lilt in his voice, like laughter on the breeze. Marius wonders if he had to work for his voice to sound like that or if it comes naturally, then curses himself for giving a second thought to the boy. What would his Aunt or Uncle say if they found out? He pulls his Ethics notebook from his satchel and puts it on his desk, burying himself in opening it and putting a date in the corner of the page.

“You’re late, Cohen,” M. Rosen says.

“Sorry for that, but Division is so far away and these shoes are impractical for running. So, necromancy, am I right?”

“The plan was to talk about love spells, but necromancy is always a good topic. Yes, we’ll cover necromancy today and love spells tomorrow,” M. Rosen says. “Take a seat, Cohen.”

Marius titles his notes. Lev slips into the seat next to him, putting his feet on the desk. Marius doesn’t look up. He can feel Lev’s eyes on his paper for a few minutes until he leans over, just slightly.

“You’ve got great handwriting. Might need you to teach me sometime, yeah?”

Marius still doesn’t look up.

“How do you get it that way?”

He swears he can hear the crooked smile in Lev’s voice. The flag from his shoulder flashes in front of Marius’ eyes. He clears his throat and straightens.

“Practice.”

Lev laughs, tracing his fingers over the title of Marius’ notes. He has freckles on them, a fact Marius couldn’t care less about.

“I also just might need your help with a tie. Can’t even seem to get mine.” Lev picks the tie up from Marius’ chest, holding it for a second before dropping it. Marius spares a look to Lev. He’s got a smile on, of course, and eyes the exact shade as coffee. Dimples too, something else Marius really doesn’t care about.

“I’ve learned wearing them helps.”

Lev laughs again, a bit too loud.

“Pay attention, Cohen. That goes for you too, Beauregard,” M. Rosen says firmly. Marius nods and buries himself back in the notebook as a discussion rings around the classroom. He’s always hated the long discussions in Ethics. Why can’t M. Rosen just give them something concrete to take notes over?

“So, you’re that Marius.”

“Yes,” he says sharply.

“You know, everyone always talks about Dorian–”

“I’m well aware.”

“–but I can’t see why with you here.”

Marius nearly drops his pen. Lev laughs yet again, and Marius can’t help but notice a certain musical quality to it. Not that he cares. Lev’s next words are kept low, like he’s trying to make sure only Marius hears them.

“You’re pretty when you blush.”

Marius laughs, for a reason he can’t fathom, but he does it anyway.

Lev

Fairies, he’s never going to forget Marius Beauregard. Not with a laugh like that.

Marius

Marius hopes Lev forgets him. One period next to him and Marius has shown more feelings to a stranger than he ever has. Marius needs Lev to forget him, because damn, Marius won’t be forgetting Lev anytime soon. Not when he laughs like that, smiles like that, does everything in the way he watched during Ethics.

It feels stupid, caring about someone he just met. It is stupid. Marius is acting like a teenage boy, blushing over some guy he spent one period with. Even after Rituals and dinner, he’s still thinking about Lev’s smile. Somehow, Lev worked a crack into his perfectly crafter exterior. Marius can’t see him again. He’ll have to talk to Professor Conners about switching periods for Ethics and Division of Magicks.

He'll just wear the old family ring. That always seems to convince people to listen. He hates to do that to people, it feels too much like the manipulation Arthur and Camille taught him. Once Lev is out of Marius' life, whatever is going on in Marius will go away. That'll be good enough for him.

Ares and Nica left the Dining Hall a few minutes before, Marius still sitting at the Phoenix House table. Dorian is laughing with Baz and Diana at the far end of the table, not sparing a glance anywhere near Marius. He looks over to the Kelpie House table, seeing Lev with a book in his hand. He puts it down almost every few seconds to talk to the person next to him. He's laughing and Marius has to look away, knowing that if he looks any longer he'll imagine being the person next to Lev, just like Ethics. And that's stupid. Marius is a Beauregard, and he doesn't have any feelings he doesn't control, let alone for a boy.

He pushes the food around on his plate, keeping his eyes down on it. He can leave in a few more minutes when it's clear he wasn't leaving with Nica and Ares. He spares another look to Lev. Lev looks back at him and smiles. Marius knows it was for him. He grabs his plate and stands up, walking to the trash, leaving his plate on the tray next to the trash can and heading for the door.

He only gets a minute of peace before someone runs up next to him and grabs his wrist. He tries to pull it back but the person's grip is strong. The button on the cuff digs into his skin, drawing a few beads of blood.

"Let me go, asshole," Marius says.

"Why are you doing this, Marius?" Dorian growls. Marius kicks his foot down on Dorian's ankle. He holds tight still, not even wincing at something Marius knows hurt.

"What else am I supposed to do? Just not listen to Arthur and Camille?"

"Yes! Fuck them! I don't need you doing this. It's my last year, you're just going to listen to them?"

"I have to, Dorian. Now let go of me." The white sparks of magic crawl up Dorian’s hand and arm. Dorian throws Marius' wrist back at him.

"You're an idiot, Marius."

"Yeah and so are you, Dor."

“At least I’m not another Camille. You’re just another cruel Beauregard in a long line of them. I hope you take well to French, connard.”

Bastard.

“I don’t think you can say anything, Dorian–” he holds up his wrist, red marks burning where Dorian grabbed his wrist– “not anymore. You’re just as bad as the rest of us except you have a black sheep complex, asshole.”

“Fairies, you got her knack for lying, too.”

“And I’m the only one? How much do your friends know? Do they know where you are every month? How many lies have you told them so they didn’t?”

“They don’t need to know,” Dorian says lowly. Marius scoffs.

“Sure they don’t. They really aren’t going to worry when you disappear from the dorm tomorrow night and come back with bruises and cuts in the morning. No, there’s no chance of that happening at all.”

“Keep your voice down, Marius,” Dorian hisses.

“Who’s out here to listen? Not like it’d matter anyway, not when half the school worships you like the next Great Mage Elisedd! Great Mage Ari was fucking controlled for all of zyr stories so who cares if your a we–”

Dorian covers Marius’ mouth with a wild look in his eyes. “Don’t say another word, Marius.” Marius nods, Dorian pulls his hand back.

“Now who’s just another cruel Beauregard.”

A million different things flash through Dorian’s eyes. Marius can’t tell who the disgust is for.

Dorian turns back to the Dining Hall. Marius watches him go back in and turns back to go to Phoenix House. He rubs his wrist as he walks, knowing the bruise will be there in the morning. A layer of foundation and the uniform sleeve will hide it well enough for however long it’s there. Footsteps crash behind him and he tenses. He doesn’t want to find out what Dorian wants this time. But the voice that rings out in the woods isn’t Dorian’s. It makes his heart stop just the same.

“Hey, Marius!” Lev yells. Marius knows that logically, he should keep walking. If anyone saw him being friendly to Lev, word would get back to Arthur and Camille. He’d go back to words he didn’t want to hear and more bruises he’d have to cover. But he doesn’t. He stops and waits for Lev to run up next to him. He pulls the sleeve of his blazer, knowing the blood has likely soaked his sleeve already.

“I wanted to come say hi at dinner but you were gone before I got the chance,” Lev says. He bumps his shoulder against Marius’. Marius fights down a smile. It’s best not to give him any ideas that shouldn’t be there. The smile is harder to keep down than any Marius has had before. What is Lev doing to him? Did his parents hire someone to do whatever this is to him? Would they even do that? And even so, they would never send a boy, even if they knew. They’d send a girl to ‘fix him’.

“Very well.”

Lev snorts. “‘Very well’? Dude, who says that? I mean, besides you. I think my Bubbe Alma has said that before, but she’s the only one.”

Marius starts walking back towards Phoenix House again. “Very well is a normal thing to say, Lev.”

“Not for a–wait how old are you?”

“Sixteen.”

“Not for a sixteen year old.”

“It’s really not that weird of a thing to say. I’ve heard people say it before.”

“Who?”

Marius stops, Lev stopping a few inches ahead of him and turning to face him expectantly. “People my parents make business deals with.”

“And there you go proving my point! Very well is a weird ass thing to say.”

Marius keeps walking, brushing past Lev. “Okay, maybe very well is a weird thing to say.”

“It is!”

“Maybe.”

“You’re lucky you’re cute, love.” Lev throws his head back with another laugh. “And there’s that blush again.”

Fairies, Marius is going to have to switch schools, isn’t he?

“Well, this is Phoenix House. I’ve got to head up.”

Lev nods, Marius walks up the stairs.

“See you in Division tomorrow,” Lev chirps. Marius turns his head over his shoulder, watching Lev run across the campus to Kelpie House. He turns his head back after a few seconds. Watching Lev is a stupid thing to do. He’s a Beauregard, he doesn’t do stupid. He opens the door to the House and walks quickly to his room.

Nica and Ares are on Nica’s bed, a notebook between them that they’re laughing over. Ares’ hand ghosts over Nica’s. Marius wonders just how long it’ll take Ares to do something, knowing she probably won’t. It isn’t his place to say anything anyway, not since Ares took the fall.

“Hey,” he says.

Nica is the only one to look up. “That sure is a smile. Have anything to do with the dude who kept looking over at dinner?”

Marius chokes on his spit. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Ares snorts. “Yeah, sure.”

“I don’t!”

“Whatever you say, Mar,” Nica says.

Marius slips into the bathroom before either of them can say anything else. It's best they lose any idea of Lev, meeting him or seeing him. Blood drips down his fingers and onto the floor. Marius pulls back his sleeve, finding a fairly deep cut in his arm. Dorian always gets stronger near the full moon. Marius laughs dryly.

“And I’m the cruel one,” he mutters.

Dorian

Dorian ducks into the woods, far enough that nobody will see or hear him but close enough he’ll find his way out. This isn’t the usual area he slips into but he can’t breathe and there wasn’t enough time to go anywhere else. Nausea rises up in him and it isn’t because of any strong smell.

He thinks he can still smell the copper of Marius' blood. Blood that he drew. By accident or not Dorian did that. He was supposed to protect Marius, that was his job. And yeah, maybe he didn’t do it great but at least he never hurt him. God, what would Aunt Giselle say?

Dorian stumbles to the floor, retching until his stomach is on the forest floor. He’s never been happier for advanced hearing. How would he deal with anyone seeing him right now, dry heaving because it’s not enough to have emptied his stomach?

He still remembers the night Marius came to live with them permanently. Him and Aunt Giselle had been staying there for a few months then after a failed attempt to leave the family. Dorian had been curious, wondering what the big deal was. He was only seven, after all, he didn’t understand why Aunt Giselle being sick meant she wasn’t going to be okay. He’d gotten sick before. He just wanted to check in on his favorite person in the family.

He opened the door quietly, late at night, or at least for him it was. Aunt Giselle looked up with dread but smiled when she saw him.

“Hello, Dorian. Does Camille want something?”

He’d said no and walked to her bedside. He finally understood why she wasn’t going to be okay when she coughed up blood. She danced around it for an hour, Dorian had gotten mad. He could take it, she didn’t need to protect him. She gave in and explained to him she’d be gone soon.

Dorian cried. She wiped away the tears. He asked what he could do.

“Keep my Marius safe, will you?”

And he did. He protected Marius until today. Dorian tries to stand up but gets sent back to the forest floor with another wave of nausea.

Even with the noise canceling earbuds, Dorian can hear every sound that happens on the campus the next morning. He spent the night in the woods, falling asleep on his back and waking up at one. Needless to say, Diana and Baz were worried when he sauntered into their dorm at one thirty. He just walked into the bathroom, cleaned up, then went back to sleep.

The day flies by in a blur of “take out your earbuds” and noises that would make a normal person cringe and Dorian has to leave class. He doesn’t even try the meals, knowing that’s a mess he’d really rather not deal with.

As his last class ends, Dorian stays in the History classroom. Mrs. Pereira cleans up her classroom, throwing a few glances back at Dorian to make sure he's still there. He throws his wand up and down in the air. He'll have to leave it here before going to the woods along with anything he wants to stay not-ruined. Things will get ripped, stained, cracked, broken. He learned that fast enough after his first few changes. His fourth time, Mrs. Pereira had approached him and offered her help.

"I'd like to see you after class, Dorian," she'd said. The classroom was filled with all of those oooooo's that a room full of twelve year olds do when someone gets in trouble, even a Beauregard.

"You know, for once I can't think of what I've done."

"I certainly can, Mister Beauregard."

Then the time ran out of class, and Dorian kicked his feet up on his desk. Mrs. Pereira moved Dorian's feet and sat down on his desk.

"Your parents have told me about your–"

"Don't need to say it," Dorian said quickly. He looks around frantically.

"I'd like to help you deal with it."

Dorian laughed sharply. "And why should I trust you if you got this information from my parents? I can't trust them, I can't trust you. I can deal with this by myself, Pereira." Dorian pushed himself out of the chair and started out of the room. Mrs. Pereira didn't move from his desk.

"I roomed with your mother for my eighth year and she kicked me out half the time. She only called me because she didn't want anyone else at this school finding out. Now, I don't want to help her, but I'd like to help you, Dorian," she'd said.

"I still don't trust you."

"Then let me earn it."

He stopped walking. As much as he didn't want to admit it, he did need help. Magic chains didn't hold the whole night, especially with his horrible attempt at handwave spells. They weren't supposed to need a wand, but Dorian always had bad magic, made even worse by lycanthropy.

"Are you ready to go, Dorian?"

"Yeah. Let's do it." He stands up, tossing his wand on the desk. He shucks off his leather jacket and leaves it on the back of the chair. He can already feel the shakiness under his skin, a creeping pain in his joints. It’s nothing compared to what will come when the sun goes down. Mrs. Pereira pulls a small leather pouch from her pocket, full of dried wolfsbane. It makes the transitions hurt less. She opens the pouch and crosses the room to Dorian. He holds out his hand and she pours some of the dried plant into his palm.

It's not much, the exact dose before a werewolf starts coughing up blood is unknown, so it's better to play it safe. It took him all second year and half of third to trust Mrs. Pereira enough to take it. He tosses it into his mouth. Mrs. Pereira holds her hand out.

"You can't see us," she says. Then she turns and leads Dorian out of the History classroom. As they walk through the school, Dorian tucks the wolfsbane under his tongue. The wolfsbane tastes coppery, like blood blooming in his mouth. Memories of last night flicker back. Marius' blood. Dorian's grip. Dorian feels the nausea rise up again. He look up to Mrs. Pereira. He swirls the wolfsbane in his mouth. Why should he get relief after that? After he did that to Marius? When they leave the school, he spits the wolfsbane into the grass.

Mrs. Pereira doesn't even look back at him. He wonders if he wanted her to. He settles on no when they enter the woods, the shakiness under his skin turning into pins. He knows well enough there won’t be any blood when he looks down, no matter how much the pins hurt under his skin. They don’t leave from underneath until the sun leaves the sky. That's when the real pain starts.

The mouth of the cave sits open in a gaping scream. He's heard rumors of people thinking the cave is haunted. Dorian's even earned the cave a name, Ghost's Gate. He thinks it's stupid, but then again he's the "ghost" in Ghost's Gate. Mrs. Pereira stops at the mouth, Dorian walking past her through the cave. It's a dead end ten feet into the cave, a hook built into the wall. Dorian was there when Mrs. Pereira built it into the cave wall.

"Are you ready?"

"Always am, Hailey."

She sighs and pulls her wand out of her cardigan pocket. "I'm still your teacher, Dorian."

"My teacher who is about to chain me to a cave's wall."

"The thoughts still there," she says. She leans down, tapping Dorian's wrists and ankles, then the hook on the wall. "Hold him for the night. Chains hold strong." Dorian closes his eyes as the sparks spin around until silver chains are holding Dorian to the wall, shackles on his ankles and wrists. "Don't burn the boy." Velvet wraps around the inside of the shackles.

Orange light starts to filter in through the mouth of the cave. The pins have turned to knives under his skin. His teeth are growing out, this time the taste of blood is staining his teeth red. He fights to keep his composure, body begging him to double over and curl in on himself

"You should go," he says. His voice has gone ragged in the pain. He hates how weak he seems now.

"I'll be back in the morning." She turns and walks out of the cave, looking back a few times with worry he can't stand. It tastes like blood that isn't his, hurt that isn't his, pain that isn't his but he has to deal with anyway. He spits the taste out of his mouth and curls in on himself. It doesn't help to any degree, white flashing in front of the eyes he's squeezed shut. He bites down a scream but each fall of light brings on more and more.

The knives under his skin break out when the last of the light is gone. Bones break out from his skin. Dorian can't hold back screams anymore. He fights against the chains, shackles of silver burning when his skin turning fur when he passes the velvet. His screams ring around his ears and he can feel the blood drip from them as they turn to a wolves.

One hell of a haunting.

Moonlight falls into the cave but Dorian's world goes dark.

He wakes up bloody on the floor of the cave. His cuts haven't healed completely yet, blood sluggishly falling out of them. His whole body aches, spiders of pain crawling over and under his skin. Fog has set in his brain, removing any thoughts from his head. Footsteps fall in the woods, getting closer to Dorian. They get softer as they come closer, Dorian sighing with relief.

He can't pull himself off of the floor of the cave. He can't do much but put on what he hopes to be a lazy smile for whoever is walking inside Ghost's Gate. Mrs. Pereira sits next to him. A brown leather purse hangs over her left shoulder.

"Close the cuts. Remove the ache. Mend the bones."

The pain fades away, the fog leaving his mind. He drags himself up off the floor, silver chains scraping against the cave. He winces at the sound.

"Remove the chains. Be careful, Dorian. I'm no nurse."

"You've got the practice of one." His voice is raw. It makes him nauseous to think of how pathetic he sounds, looks. Mrs. Pereira laughs almost silently–to her–and shakes her head.

"Take it easy," she says. She reaches into her bag and pulls out a thermos. She unscrews the cap and pours the liquid inside into it. She hands it to Dorian. He takes a sip. She's brought green tea this time. He likes chamomile the best but she refuses to give it to him when he's got school.

"I won't have teachers complaining about you falling asleep in class."

He does it anyway sometimes. Can't help in when he spends his nights, well, fighting against silver chains.

"Since when have I done that?"

"I can always hope you'll listen someday. Would you like breakfast?" Dorian nods, she pulls out another thermos. She unscrews it and passes it over. Cinnamon and brown sugar oatmeal.

"Thank you."

"It's nothing. I like cooking for people. My husband says I'm quite good at it." She smiles at the mention of her husband–Dorian's seen a few photos of the man. A dorky looking man with sandy blond hair.

They sit in silence for a bit. Dorian alternating between tea and oatmeal.

"What do you plan on doing when you leave school?"

"What? You think I'm going to run rampant around LA? Thought you had more trust in me, Mrs. Pereira."

"Dorian. You know that's not what I meant."

Dorian sighs. "Same thing I do in the summer. Find a basement to chain myself up in it. Crawl to my room in the morning and sleep."

"No healing spells?"

Dorian scoffs and points to the now-cold tea. "Heat up." The tea freezes into a block of ice. He looks to Mrs. Pereira with a raised eyebrow.

"I didn't know you were the only Magician you know of. Heat up." The tea starts to steam again. She pours more of it into his cup.

"I'm not telling Baz or Diana. I can't." His voice is strong again. Strong and hard. He makes sure his eyes are the same as his voice. Mrs. Pereira–infuriatingly–doesn't back down.

"Why not?"

They'd never look at me the same.

"Because I can handle this by myself, like I do every summer and break. I don't need their help."

"Maybe not, but that doesn't mean you can't accept it. Even if you can handle something on your own, it doesn't mean you have to. You let me help." Dorian sets the tea down.

"Maybe I'll stop accepting it." He stands up.

"You won't."

"See if I come to you next month," he spits. Dorian storms out of the cave, his words leaving a sour taste in his mouth. He spits out the taste and keeps walking. He leaves the woods, the brick path to Phoenix House coming into view. He slows down when he reaches the path, early morning sun warming the back of his neck. A cool breeze slips around him. But the sun keeps on beating down like summer's last desperate breath. His uniform is dirty and ripped in a few places. He opens the door to Phoenix House, finding no one in the Common Room.

Diana is already awake when he reaches his dorm. He looks up from hos chest at the foot of his bed.

"Where were you?"

His worry slips over Dorian's tongue.

"A man has to have his secrets, Ana," he says lightly with a smile. He crosses the room into the bathroom and locks the door behind him. He spits Diana's worry into the sink and turns on the water, washing it away. The taste of it is still on his lips.

#lev has no stakes in the plot btw #he’s just gay #chimera and the wolf

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junisfics · 3 years

Text

All This Time — Armin Arlert (3)

series masterlist

Pairing: Armin Arlert x Reader

Word Count: 7.6k

Series Summary: Reader messages her best friend Armin late one night while she's drunk and needy, but will she remember the things she said to him in the morning, and if she does... will she regret it?

Part Summary: A friendship has been destroyed, but in exchange for something more

Content: Smut / Nsfw 18+

Content Warnings: Oral (M and F Receiving), Fingering, Unprotected Sex

Armin wasn’t a virgin. He lost his virginity his senior year of high school, and since then, he’s been with only one other girl. You were a little different though, you had a few more people under your belt… literally.

But none of those people mattered right now, neither of your amount of experience mattered; because you were with him, and he was with you. And both of you were fucking dizzy with the way you were kissing each other like it was your first kisses all over again.

Armin couldn’t keep his mouth off of you once he latched himself on. He had his hands holding your face against his, sucking on your lips and licking into your mouth as he stumbles forward into your body and backing you up to God knows where.

And you had your hands fisting his stupid white tee-shirt and pulling him closer and closer, being the cause of his stumbling forward. But you just couldn’t get enough of him, you couldn’t get enough of the feeling of having his soft lips against your own or his hands on your body.

You were whimpering into his mouth, gasping against his lips, kissing him back with so much desire and so much pent-up emotion that little noises of arousal escaped his own lips.

He was so desperate for you, so desperate for this moment right here. His entire fucking relationship with you he’s wanted to have you as his, wanted to taste you and feel you and make you cry out for him. He was so stupid in his fantasy that he couldn’t even see that you wanted the same.

You tasted so softly of mint toothpaste, mint toothpaste, and the sweetest sugar, and Armin couldn’t get enough. His tongue was sliding over yours so sensually, kissing each other with open mouths and swallowing the other’s pretty moans.

Fucking hell, you were moaning and wet over him kissing you, how pathetic were you?

“Armin, my room — please,” You whimper, dropping his shirt and occupying your hands with sliding under the recently dropped fabric to feel up the taut skin of his abdomen.

“Shit, okay,” He breathes, “C’mere.”

Armin leans into you a little to be able to get a good grip on the backs of your thighs before lifting you up and wrapping them around his waist. You audibly gasp as he does so, finally realizing the amount of strength he truly has.

You remember him lifting you last night, or did you jump into his arms? You don’t remember. But you do remember being in his arms, in a position quite similar to now, but you were too drunk to notice and admire the way his biceps flex as he holds you up, the way his fingers dig into the plush fat of your ass, and thighs, the feeling of his hard cock pressing into your needy cunt.

You were too fucking drunk to realize any of it, but now you’re sober… and you do. And you feel him pressing and grinding against you as he continues kissing you so roughly that you’re surprised it’s actually Armin.

You never knew he could get like this. You never knew he could be so unintentionally dominating, or so sensual with his actions. And now you never want him to stop.

He carries you, just like last night, to your room and lays you gently on the bed. He never takes his lips off of yours, he’s too afraid to, he has you now and he never wants to pull himself away.

He keeps his hips between your thighs as he brings both of you down to the bed and rests your head on your pillow, taking his hands off your thighs and moving them to brace himself upright on either side of your head. And your hands slide up his chest, under his shirt, feeling over his warm and tense skin and sighing at the way his muscles dip under your fingers.

You’ve seen Armin shirtless before, and you’ve lingered your glances over his lean muscles and milky skin, you’ve gotten lost and dizzy in the way his arms and stomach flexed while the two of you played beach volleyball or water polo on family trips. But feeling over his skin, and feeling his stomach ripple under your fingertips was far more intense than watching them.

“I — I always forget how strong you are,” You breathe, keeping your eyes closed and lips parted as Armin rests his forehead against yours.

He laughs softly as he pants equally so, trying to catch his breath in the few seconds you give him away from your lips. He felt like you were trying to empty his lungs from all their air, trying to fucking kill him with the way you were touching him.

“Yeah?” He asks, not trying to tease, but genuinely curious to hear more.

“Mhm. ‘always forget that you… are built like this…” Your voice goes a little quieter as you’ve suddenly gone shy with what you’re saying. But your nimble fingers keep exploring his skin, keep sliding over his abdomen and sides, and getting lost in his skin.

“Take — take this off, please,” You whisper, grabbing ahold of the hem of his shirt and pulling it up to his torso until he aids you, lifting up off of you and back onto his calves as he grabs the back neckline and tugs the white tee off of his body.

And the moment he does so, you only melt further into the sheets. Your eyes scan over the broad expanse of silky smooth skin of his chest, over the curves of his shoulders and biceps, taking in the freckle or two that you recognize on his collarbones and forearms.

He’s so beautiful, so fucking beautiful. You hate yourself for never telling him that you believed so until last night.

“I meant it… last night… when I said that you’re really attractive.” You reach out to him, his distance becoming too far, and he listens to your silent request and brings his body back over you, “I don’t — don't know why I never told you…”

Armin was blushing now, his face turning hot and red and the blush is seeping down into his neck and chest as you continue to stare over his body. And he only heats up more when you look up into his eyes with your own. It’s like you're staring into the depths of his soul and reading into his insecurity.

“Thank you,” Armin would continue and say the same for you, but he knows you already know that. He knows that you know that he thinks you're beautiful, he tells you all the time.

When he’s watching you get ready for a party or a gathering, he always makes sure to tell you that you’re stunning… even before you even ask him in confirmation.

Armin swallows before he brings his head back down to kiss you once more, this time with a little less energy. His lips meet yours softly, sensually, and you allow his tongue to slip in equally as so. It makes your heart swell and stomach turn as he kisses you slowly, almost seductively. And somehow, when it was like this, it made you far more buzzed than before had.

You were already whimpering into his mouth, hips stuttering and circling around nothing as you try and get any kind of friction between the two of you. But Armin was seated just a little too high up off of you to where you were pathetically grinding against air and not him.

As you were struggling for a release of tension, Armin was enjoying your little struggle. He savored the way you were getting so needy and desperate with your movements; the way your hands were sliding over his shoulders so shakily, the way you were already struggling to kiss him back, or how you wrapped your legs around him to try and bring him closer. He felt so wanted, so needed… by you.

His cock was so hard in his sweats, throbbing and aching and only getting any sort of relief when your hips bucked high enough against his. So, eventually, despite his nerves and in your favor, Armin brings himself closer between your hips and allows himself to grind his cock against your barely clothed cunt.

And he’s so glad he chose so because the pretty little noise that leaves your lips and the sweet sexual friction he gets as you reactively grind against his cock is almost too much for him to handle.

You’re moaning in his mouth, getting sloppy with your kisses because the head of his cock is rutting itself up against your needy clit so nicely and his tongue is sliding against yours so smoothly. And His body is such a nice weight above you, even though he won’t let himself drop nearly his full weight.

He holds himself up by bracketing his elbows by your head, his lips now close enough to yours that he doesn’t need to crane his neck down to kiss you. He can kiss you steadily now that his arms aren’t shaking from holding his cock off of you, and his legs aren't shaking from not receiving any relief. And even though you're having trouble giving anything back due to how overwhelming it is, Armin’s keeping the kiss fluid.

He doesn’t want this to be quick, he doesn’t want it rushed. He doesn’t mind if it's with fervor or with energy, but he wants this to be drawn out and long. He wants to take his time with you, and he wants you to take your time with him; to be able to savor the feeling of your skin and your lips and your touch, to have enough time to memorize it in case he never gets it again. He wants to fuck you good and slow until you're both lightheaded from the lazy tempo and are swallowing down each other's whimpers and whines.

Armin trails his kisses down your jaw, letting his tongue be guided by his lips and peak out to get little tastes of your skin. He nuzzles his face into the crook of your neck as he savors your skin, his ear next to your mouth as he’s able to hear every hitch on your breath or little whimper that escapes your throat as he nips and sucks at the fragile flesh.

Your fingers snake their way into his hair as his mouth latches onto your pulse point, and you tug on the pretty blonde strands, nails scratching his scalp and drawing out little groans from him as you do so. Your back is sent into a cute arch as goosebumps freckle over your skin and Armin can feel your entire body shaking beneath him.

Armin keeps going down, down, down, satisfying his need to feel your skin between his teeth, until he reaches the low swooping neckline of your tank top. And when he finally feels his chin hitting fabric, he pulls away, but only to look up to you and take the hem of your top in his right hand.

“Can I take this off?” He asks, keeping eye contact as he shimmies further down your body so his face is comfortably in line with your chest.

“Yeah,” You nod with your voice breathy.

The moment you give him an answer, he’s lifting the thin fabric up to your stomach and pressing kisses against the soft skin as he does so. He continues pulling it upwards until your bare chest is revealed to him and you take your own liberty to slide the shirt off your head.

Armin almost groans at the sight of your exposed chest and is suddenly very thankful that you hadn’t put on anything more to cover yourself this morning. Your nipples were pebbled by arousal and your chest and stomach had a glowing sheen of perspiration over the top that made the entire situation ten times more alluring.

“Do you remember… that day we were at the beach?” He speaks softly like he’s lost in the way the flesh of your chest gives as his hands come. His eyes are glued to you, and if you weren’t as equally lost in him, you almost could have laughed at his expression.

“And you were wearing that stupid baby blue bikini,” He continues, speaking breathily.

“Yeah, did you — did you like it?” You ask him, looking up at him through your lashes as he continues to play with your tits.

“Yeah,” He nods, “I… got off to you that night. 'couldn't get you out of my head.”

He doesn't give you a chance to respond before he's kissing you again, only your lips a few times before he's trailing back down your neck and to your chest.

He attaches his lips to the underside of your left breast, the other one being taken in his right hand. And he wasn’t rough with bites or sucks, but he was lazy with it like he was trying to ingrain the feeling of the soft supple flesh in his mouth into his brain. He was running his tongue over what he's taken into his mouth, sending shivers and shakes down your entire body while his other hand softly, so very softly, massages your other breast between his nimble fingers.

He was so incredibly gentle with you, but the effect that gentleness had was so great and was hitting you so hard that by the time he had finally ran his tongue over your nipple, you were softly moaning and grinding your hips up against his abdomen with the same amount of desperation that you were before.

Armin could tell that you wanted more from him, you wanted his mouth and hands over your entire body and not just your chest. But he needs to make up for all the time he’s lost by waiting for himself and for you. He has to draw this out and be able to do everything he’s ever dreamed of doing with you, to you, for you.

So, he’s going to play with your pretty tits and slide his tongue over your chest until he’s content and thinks he’s equated it to the time he’s lost. He won't stop unless you tell him to, or you're verbally begging him for more.

“Armin —” You breathe as your fingers take a tighter hold on his hair.

He looks up to you for a moment, watching your saliva sheened lips part as he releases your nipple from his mouth before tending to the other one the same as before. He leaves your left breast covered in his slick saliva, nipple almost sore from the way he was teasing you, and lets his cute little tongue escape his lips again to slide over and wet the other as he looks up to you with those big blue eyes.

And you were pathetically wet underneath your panties from that stimulation alone.

You knew Armin had at least a little bit of experience, but you didn't know he would be so damn attentive to your body and so skilled with the way he’s doing so. It isn’t a surprise though, it’s Armin for christ's sake, of course, he’s going to go out of his way to drive you crazy and he’s going to do it to the best of his abilities.

His fingers of his left-hand slide up your saliva-slicked breast to take your nipple between his thumb and forefinger, rolling it between the two quite gently as he continues to flick over the other with his tongue.

“Armin, oh my God. I — fuck,” You whimper, completely in awe that you could feel this way through nipple stimulation.

God, if you weren't careful, you were pretty sure you might be able to cum from this.

Your cunt was dripping and clenching around nothing beneath your panties as he continued, and it was driving you insane. You needed more, you needed to feel his stupid tongue inside you, needed his fingers inside you, needed his cock inside you.

“I — fuck, Armin, more, need — fuck — need you to touch me,” You pant, sitting up on your elbows as he finally takes his mouth off your chest.

“What do you need?” He asks, but he seems to already know the answer, for his hands slide down from your chest and to your hips before sneaking his fingers under your waistband.

You gasp softly at the tugging feeling you get from him pulling on your panties, instinctually lifting your hips slightly to allow him to continue. You look down to him with your lips parted open, nodding slightly to encourage him.

“Is this okay?” He says, a little softer, stopping his movements before he fully exposes you.

“Yeah, please.”

Armin can feel his stomach lurch and cock twitch in his pants at the little whimpering beg you let out. And it only does it again when he slides himself further down the bed and gets a good look at the cute little darkened patch that’s formed in your grey boy-short panties from the wetness leaking from your cunt. And, once again, Armin’s so glad you hadn’t chosen to put on any more clothes before he returned.

Then, he’s pulling them down, completely stripping you bare to him. But you don’t feel vulnerable like you usually do, well maybe a little, but with Armin it’s different. With Armin, you feel safe and homely, you feel like it’s always supposed to have been like this. Because not only does he look at you like you’re something to ravish, but something to cherish.

Armin can’t stop himself from muttering a soft “Fuck,” at the sight of you so wet and needy for him.

You knew you were going to be aroused, but from his reaction, you didn’t know you were going to be to such an extent.

Armin presses a few soft kisses up your legs, skipping over your center, as he makes his way back up to your face. He takes you by surprise by catching your lips in his again, cupping your face in his left hand, and caressing your jaw as he steals your breath away once more. He comes to your right side, bringing the arm that’s attached to the hand on your face down with him until his elbow braces him up and his hand cups the back of your head. His right-hand slides and skims over your stomach before dipping down your navel and fingers hovering over you.

He can feel your breathing jump as his fingers brush over your clit, can feel your hips jerk against his arm once he makes that sweet contact. And it’s almost pathetic how you choke back a whimper at such soft touches, but it was like everything was oversensitized to the max.

He lets his fingers apply the lightest of pressure, almost waiting for you to lift your hips and meet him halfway as he begins to circle your clit slowly. He’s bordering teasing with his touches, even though it’s unintentional; just using the pads of his fingertips to massage you gently.

Your mouth is dropped open ever so slightly while Armin rests his forehead against your temple as he plays with your clit. You’re sucking in little pants of air as your eyes flutter shut at the waves of pleasure that wash over you. Your right arm comes up to wrap around his and grab ahold of his bicep on the outside, feeling the muscle flex under your fingertips as he continues to please you.

“Shit, more. Want them inside,” You whisper, opening your eyes to only see his as he looks over the way your pretty face twists in pleasure.

Armin looks into your eyes as his fingers slide a little lower, feeling over the slick that’s gathered at your cunt, cursing softly, then keeping eye contact as he slides two fingers inside you. He groans softly as his digits are engulfed by your slick warmth, and you do the same as you feel his long fingers fill you up so nicely.

Your entire body goes weak at the sensation, and your hips helplessly grind against his palm as his fingers reach their hilt. You’re gasping and choking on your breath while he dips his head into your neck and resumes kissing the skin there.

He fingers you nice and slow like he’s once again trying to memorize the way your pussy clenches around him, the feeling of the wet heat of your cunt consuming him and sucking him in, so desperate for more, more, more. He loves the way your thighs clamp around his wrist as he curls the tips of his fingers up against you, realizing he’s found your sweet spot and continuing to curl against it every so often to hear the sweet little mewl that leaves your lips as he does so.

He can feel your little nails pressing into the skin of his bicep as you squeeze tighter. And then you’re grabbing his hair with your other hand, tugging him up from your neck to face you, and taking his lips in yours. You’re moaning into his mouth, barely able to kiss him back again. He can feel your chest pressing up against his whenever you arch your back, silently begging him for more.

Armin pulls away from you, using the elbow he was bracing himself on to lift himself away, “Can — fuck — can I go down on you?”

You look up to him as he waits for an answer.

Of course, Armin would want to go down on you, of course, he would. He’s Armin.

“Yes, please,” You nod.

He wastes no time to continue kissing down your body, keeping his fingers inside you and only pulling them out once he’s laying out on the bed with his face in line with your cunt. He’s conveniently bent at the hips, his legs able to hand off the bed so he can kneel on the floor.

He slowly pulls his fingers out of you, keeping his eyes on the way your pussy clenches and stretches around his knuckles as he does so. And he has to hold in a groan as he sees the way his fingers are shiny and glistening with your arousal once they’re fully out of you.

“I always knew that… that you would be the kinda guy to go down on girls.” You chuckle softly as you rise to your elbows, able to see him kneel before you.

Armin looks up to you from between your legs. His hair is slightly disheveled, and there’s a cute pink flush over his nose and cheeks. His pupils are blown wide with lust. He looks absolutely alluring.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He brings his head closer to your center like he’s waiting for your answer before he slides his tongue through you.

“I just — not a lot of guys are willing to actually do it…” You say, now able to feel his breath fanning over your cunt. Armin can see the way your legs twitch with every little breath he takes, he can feel them beginning to squeeze his shoulders.

“Why not?” And he wasn’t teasing you, he seemed genuinely curious.

“I don’t — I don’t know,” You whisper, practically trembling with anticipation

He seems satisfied with your answer and keeps his eyes on you as he grips your thighs and brings his face forward to slide his tongue through your slit. You’re warm against his tongue, and he can taste your slick arousal on it. His tongue feels like silk as he slides over you, dipping the tip of his tongue into your hole before gliding up to flick over your clit.

“Oh god,” Your head falls back on your shoulders, hands clenching into fists as you buck your hips up against his face.

He wasn’t confident with his movements, but he was in no way unsure of them either. He seemed to have at least some experience with what he was doing, but you weren’t anywhere near upset with that. You were his, and he was yours. And you could even say you were glad that he knew what he was doing because it was only making the experience that much better for you.

You could feel your entire body quivering as the pleasure courses through you, stemming from the pit of your stomach. You were getting warmer by the moment, not from physical exertion but from the overwhelming sensations that were flowing through your whole body. Your stomach was contracting and your chest was jerking before you with every little circle of his tongue over your clit.

You let out an audible choked-out moan as you feel his two fingers slide back inside you. You don’t notice how much tighter you’re squeezing them now that his mouth is on you as well. Your little cunt is fluttering around his digits, almost making it hard for him to shirt them around inside you. And every little squeeze he gets translates itself back to his cock, sending it twitching and leaking precum in his sweatpants. And he’s wishing his dick was pushed all the way inside you and it was his length that your little pussy was squeezing so nicely and not his fingers.

Soon, Armin, soon.

“I’m so close, please don’t stop. Armin please, please,” You whine, your back arching and legs trembling and squeezing his shoulders.

Before he allows you to cum, he uses his free hand to lift both of your legs so they rest over his shoulders, your heels digging into the muscles in his back. And that little change in angle has his fingers hitting your sweet spot over and over as his mouth suckles around your clit. And you’re cumming and creaming all over his fingers, cunt spasming around them as he fucks them into you and lets you ride out your orgasm.

“Oh God — Armin,” You shift your weight to one elbow and bring up your right hand to reach out and lace your fingers through his hair once more.

He’s lost himself in the way you gush all over his tongue, the way he flickers his pretty blue eyes up to see your eyebrows furrow together as you keep grinding against his mouth and hand.

Armin can only rut his hips into the side of your bed, wishing that he was fucking his cock into you rather than his fingers, but all good things take time.

Once you’ve come down from your high and Armin’s slipped his fingers out of you, you shift your legs off of his shoulder and let your hand fall from his head and down his arm.

“Want to — wanna suck you off, please.” You say, looking into his eyes as he lifts himself from the floor and hovers back over your body.

“You don’t have to,” He shakes his head softly, leaning over you and cupping your cheek with his left hand… the one that isn’t covered in his spit and your cum.

“Want to — so bad,” You plea, sliding a hand down his chest until you reach the waistband of his sweats. Then, you continue a little further, cupping his length through the fabric, sliding your hand over him gently.

You take your bottom lip between your teeth as you look up at him. His lips are parted as he drops his head slightly to watch your hand palm at his cock. He’s not very convincing when he repeats ‘you don’t have to’ because he’s subtly grinding into your hand and letting out soft moans at the feeling.

“Wanna make you feel good,” You say quietly, looking over his pretty face.

“Fuck, please,” He whimpers… whimpers.

And so you pull your hand away from his cock, push against his chest with both hands until he’s bringing himself up off the edge of the bed, and push him a little farther so you can kneel in front of him. The hardwood hurts your knees, and you know it’ll probably hurt equally as bad later, but you need to feel the weight of him in your mouth.

You hook your fingers around his waistband, tugging both his boxers and his sweatpants down until his cock springs free and slaps against his stomach. And Armin’s just as big as you had expected, nice and long, and his tip a pretty pink; leaking precum down the length of him.

His breath hitches as you take ahold of the base of him in your hand, holding him gently and sizing him up. He’s heavy in your hand, skin warm and slickened with his own arousal that’s dripped down his shaft.

You look into his pretty blue eyes as you jerk him softly, sliding over him and twisting your wrist once you reach his tip. He looks back down to you, burning the image of you knelt in front of him, completely nude, with his cock on your hands into his mind. Your lips swollen and slick with saliva from kissing, your hair askew and so prettily messy.

He’s cursing quietly, his breathing getting all ragged and choked up as you continue. And he finally lets out an audible groan once you close your lips around the head of his cock.

His precum is slightly salty on your tongue, and you suckle on his tip real gently as you swirl your tongue over him.

“Fuck —” He hisses, the sensation building up far too quickly for his liking, but he doesn’t want you to stop just yet.

You take your mouth off of him, but only to lick up the underside of his cock, making sure to slobber on it real nicely until a string of spit connects from the head of him to your lips. And then you allow yourself to slide the length of him into your mouth, taking as much of him as you can and jerking the rest with your hand. He’s heavy on your tongue, and you have to keep yourself from gagging as his tip hits the back of your throat.

“Oh God, oh God — fuck,” He groans, restraining himself from bucking his hips against you and fucking your throat, “Stop, stop, I’m gonna cum,”

But you don’t stop, you keep your mouth on his cock with your lips wrapped tight and cheeks hollowed.

Armin grabs ahold of your hair, completely disregarding his gentle nature, and pulls you back and off of him. You cough on your own spit, sending it dripping down your chin as you look up to him through swelling tears.

He’s panting heavily, looking down at you as he breathes, his cock hovering just in front of your face and dripping with your saliva.

“Can — can I fuck you,” He asks, loosening his grip on your hair and sliding his hand down the side of your head to cup your cheek.

You lean into his touch, savoring the warmth, and nodding your head softly as you close your mouth and swallow the accumulated spit, “Yeah,”

Armin’s gentle once more as he leans down, taking your hands in his to help you stand before he guides you back onto the mattress, crawling over your body and kissing you gently once you’re fully on the bed.

You can feel his cock situated in the crease of your leg, resting right next to your cunt. And you’re clenching around nothing at the sensation of his cock being so close.

“Do you have a condom?” He asks, pulling away from you.

You swallow hard, subconsciously grinding against the length of him as the idea of him filling you raw floods your mind. You look up to him with your bottom lip taken innocently between your teeth as you shake your head.

“I want you raw,” You decide, sliding your hands up his warm chest until they reach the base of his neck.

You don’t speak as if you’re trying to convince him, more so just telling him exactly what you want. You hadn’t planned for it to end up this way, but now that it’s come across, you don’t want anything else.

“You — you don’t want a condom?” Armin asks, and you can feel him twitch against your thigh at your revelation.

“No,”

He nods, slowly and uncertainly at first, but then confidently as if he realized he wanted it equally as much. And then he leans back, sitting back on his calves as he takes his cock in his hand, his other hand gripping your thigh and holding you open for him. He looks to where the two of you are inches away from meeting as he lazily slides his hand over himself.

He shimmies his hips forward slightly so the head of his cock comes in line with your entrance, but he doesn’t push in just yet. Armin slides his cockhead through your slit, savoring the way your cunt clenches against him as he skims over your hole.

“I need — need to know how bad you’ve wanted this,” He says, almost a whisper.

He speaks for a few reasons. He wants to know that this is okay, and that fucking you is okay; but he also needs to hear you beg for him, even though he doesn’t explicitly state that he wants you to bed. He wants to know if it’s true, that all this time you’ve wanted him.

“You’re all I could think about… ever. Ever since I kissed you all that time ago, you were all I ever wanted — all I needed.” You say, your hips jerking against him every time his cock slides over your clit.

Armin nods shakily, swallowing hard as if he’s taking in what you’re saying word by word and trying to process it.

“And… how bad you’ve wanted this,” He enunciates what he’s insinuating by tapping his tip against your clit so very softly. You whine softly at the sensation and can feel your throat tense up.

“God so, so bad. I’ve dreamed about you — about you filling me up, ‘wished it was you and not my fingers. I need it — need you,” You whimper, grinding against him.

Armin lets out a shaky exhale at your confession, slowing down the rate at which he slides his cock through your slit, “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this. I wanted you so bad last night but I couldn’t — couldn’t have you.”

He pauses his cock as it’s perfectly in line with your entrance, looking up from where the two of you meet and to you where you’re laid back on the mattress, spread open for him and so needy for more. You’re shaking in anticipation, and for a moment, Armin feels bad for unintentionally teasing you for so long.

And then you feel him pressing himself inside, you feel him breaching you and stretching you out as he fills you so slowly. His hand that was at your leg drops down to your side as he comes to lean over you again, and the hand that was guiding his cock inside does the same once he’s enough of the way in to not have to guide himself anymore.

You’re a gasping and whimpering mess as he fills you up, and he the same. He’s groaning softly at the sensation of you squeezing his tip, massaging his cock with every clench. You’re so wet and warm around him, so soft and slick, and he uses every last bit of his restraint to keep himself from sheathing the entirety of his cock inside you.

“Oh God,” You cry, your legs coming up to wrap themselves around his waist, heels pressing into the base of his spine to encourage him to keep going.

But Armin doesn’t think he could stop even if he wanted to — even if he tried. You were pulling him in, both your cunt and your legs. He swears you wouldn’t dare to let him stop.

“You’re — you’re so big,” You whisper, unable to give your voice enough power to speak any louder.

He continues pushing into you slowly until his hips meet yours and the base of him is fully engulfed by your pussy. You can feel him twitching against the deepest parts of you, in your stomach, and the way he’s stretching you out is so painfully pleasant.

Armin has to take a moment from continuing, afraid he’ll cum prematurely. So, he hovers over you, bringing himself down to his elbows to where your noses bump together and takes your lips in his. He kisses you tenderly, slowly, trying to stop himself from getting too overwhelmed. But it’s truly no help because he can feel his cock twitch inside you when you moan into his mouth.

“Please, please. Please fuck me,” You whimper against his lips, your hands coming up to his neck and holding it gently to keep him as close to you as you can.

Armin slowly uses the strength in his core to lift his hips off yours, shuddering at the way your cunt keeps trying to suck him in, and pulls his cock out of you. It’s so slow, so fucking slow, but the pleasure is so immense that you’re trembling underneath him and begging for more.

“Shit, you feel so good,” He breathes, pulling himself out until only his tip remains inside, then slowly pushing himself back in and splitting you in two once more, “So, so good,”

Once Armin’s able to get ahold of his restraint, he eases himself out again then sheathes his cock back inside a little harsher. His hips slap against you, not making an audible noise just yet, but hard enough to where your pretty tits are sent bouncing against his chest.

Your moan gets caught in your throat at the feeling of him filling you up so quickly and his cock hitting so deep.

You’ve never felt like this before… ever. You don’t know it’s from how big he is or how steadily he’s fucking you or if it’s just the fact that it’s Armin, and you’ve wanted and wished and pretended it was him all this time.

“‘wanted you for so long and now I got you,” He rests his forehead against yours, “You’re mine right? Tell me your mine, please.”

“Yeah, yeah. I’m yours, Armin, I’m yours,” You whimper, nodding quickly and looking into his eyes.

He refused to look away from you as he pumped his cock inside you over and over, he was lost in your lust-blown eyes and the way your whole face was twisting in pleasure. Your bottom lip quivers as you hiccup out little sobbing moans as he begins to fuck into you harder.

His biceps are flexing as he continues to use them to brace himself up as he brings his hips up before slapping them back down. It was audible now, a wet slapping sound filling the room along with both of your pathetic gasps and cries.

“Fuck — you’re so deep, so deep. ‘m gonna cum,” You choke, sliding your hands into his hair and holding onto it, tugging softly until Armin’s groaning from the pain that spreads over his scalp.

You knew it was quick, and that you weren’t lasting long at all. But you were the farthest thing from embarrassed. And Armin was glad to hear that you were close because he was far too close to his own orgasm as well.

“Need to feel it, please. Cum on my cock, please,” He begs.

And you do what you’re told. Your entire body jerks and spasms beneath him, back arching sharply and legs squeezing his hips so tight it almost hurts. You’re clenching around his cock over and over again, trying to milk him of his cum… but Armin’s not done… not yet.

“Fuck, fuck — Armin!” You cry, your lifting hips only getting slapped back down into the mattress by his.

Your brain is fuzzy with your orgasm and all your senses are on overdrive as he continues to fill you with his cock. It’s a white-hot pleasure that’s surging through your entire being, and you feel like you’re floating.

You’re choking on your moans, stuttering out his name and pulling on his hair; and Armin doesn’t let up on you.

“Again, please, ‘wanna feel it again,” He pants, kissing you again with an open mouth.

He drinks down your cries and moans as he brings you to another high. And you’re thrashing around beneath him, entire body twitching again and head pushing into the mattress as he fucks you through your orgasm once more.

And then, as you’re coming down, Armin pulls himself off of you so quickly that it takes you a moment to realize what’s happening. He’s back on his calves again with his cock in his hand, jerking himself quickly until he’s groaning and releasing all over your stomach.

“Fuck, fuck,” He seethes, eyes squeezing shut and his stomach flexing as he lets his head drop back onto his shoulders.

He can feel his whole body tensing and his muscles contracting. You can see his chest rising and falling quickly as he brings himself back down from his high. He keeps jerking his cock, squeezing at the tip, until it’s stopped its twitching and he’s got nothing left. He keeps breathing hard, bringing his head up slowly as he keeps the base of him in his hand like he’s somehow anchoring himself.

“I love you,” You say, so quietly that Armin almost missed it.

You’ve told each other so many times before. You both know that you love each other so dearly, but it was never before said as if you’ve been in love with each other.

Armin looks to you, his breathing still a little shaky, and he smiles softly, “I love you.”

He leans down and hovers over you for a moment, kissing you tenderly, before getting up off the bed. You let your eyes shut and breathe deeply as he goes to do whatever an Armin does after sex.

And you assumed it would be to get a towel of some sort so he can properly clean his release off of your stomach, and you assumed correctly because you’re opening your eyes at the sensation of something warm and wet sliding over your stomach.

He’s put his boxers back on and kneels beside you. One hand wipes at the mess while the other comes to your forearm, holding it carefully while his thumb traces over little circles. Both actions send little shivers over your cooling body, but it’s comforting and makes you feel safe. You give him a soft smile.

He’s gentle and kind as he continues to clean you up, careful with your limbs like he believes they’ll break; even though he was just plowing himself into not a few minutes ago.

You aren’t able to see him, but if you could you’d see the boy’s face turning pink at the sight of you exposed for him. And his lips are turned into a smile as well as he admires you before him.

“What clothes do you want?” He asks, discarding the towel to the floor and cupping your face in his hand.

You open your eyes to see him leaning over you, your bathroom light cascading behind him as his figure blocks it out of your eyes. He looks like a greek god.

“You pick,” You smile, shutting your eyes once more.

You feel his weight shift around then leave the bed, followed by the sound of opening and closing of your dresser drawers. His weight returns, along with the light feeling of clothes resting atop your stomach. You peek out at him again.

On your torso lays one of his tee-shirts that you had stolen from him a year or two back, along with a pair of maroon panties.

“Scandalous,” You giggle, sitting up and taking the shirt off of your stomach.

“You told me to pick,” He says shyly, another wash of blush smearing across his cheeks as he sits down beside you. You pull the shirt over your head and maneuver the panties onto you as well.

Armin leaves only momentarily to flick off the bathroom light. And once you’re clothed to the extent that it seems he wants you at, he pushes you down by your shoulders until your head is hitting your pillow. He kisses you softly, only a few pecks to your lips before shifting up to kiss your forehead.

You giggle at his ministrations. You can feel your heart swelling in your chest at the realization that you can now finally be intimate with each other in romantic ways. It didn’t feel odd. It was new, yes, but it felt nothing but right.

It felt so right for him to lay down next to you and pull you under the sheets he had just taken you on. It felt so right to be curdled up next to him, pulled against his warm body, and held in his arms as you rest your head on his bare chest; able to hear his heartbeat.

You slept with him in your bed for two days in a row, but how different those two days were.

#armin arlert smut #armin x reader smut #armin arlert x reader smut #armin arlert x reader #armin x reader #armin smut #all this time #1k

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freddie-weaselbee · 3 years

Text

Grade A Business//F.W.

Pairing: Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Warnings: Brief semi-nudity, slight language, two suggestive comments, y/n drools on fred but like in a cute way

Summary: As one businessman makes a trip across the ocean to talk to new investors, he meets his new partner, someone a lot more familiar than he was expecting.

Prompts: Only One Bed with dialogue prompts “if we get caught, I’m blaming you” and “I don't want to be alone”

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Day 2 of @theweasleyslut‘s 2k writing challenge

Fred had never gotten used to traveling on Muggle airplanes. He never had a need to before, not with everything being a train ride, floo network, or apparition away. But as he and George progressed into adulthood, and the businessman life no less, they found themselves constantly on the move and needing a fast and easy way to travel without drawing suspicion. Except for the one time that Fred’s magical briefcase set off every airport security system imaginable, but he’d learned from that mistake.

He was relieved to be exiting the JFK airport in New York City, clutching his luggage and thanking Merlin that his feet could now touch solid ground. Being in one of those huge steel contraptions was nothing like flying in a broom. He had no control over anything and it drove him absolutely insane. Luckily, he was safe now, and one step closer to being done with this awful business trip.

At the beginning of their business endeavors, Fred and George would travel together, trying to pick up business at other locations for Weasleys’ Wizards Wheezes. But as the shop grew and the locations became more and more foreign (so far having shops in Paris, Cairo, and Madrid) the brothers realized that the operations would have to be solo missions to allow for the other to run the shop for longer periods of time. Usually Fred didn’t mind taking the trips by himself. In fact, he rather enjoyed the alone time and flexibility in schedule. But this meeting was supposed to be a big one, and he was feeling quite nervous about having to tackle it himself.

Big investors located in the states were meeting with him to discuss opening a joint operation in New York City, combining his shop with another renowned wizard business that they deemed would be most profitable. Fred groaned internally just thinking about it. He didn’t want to have to share this new shop with anyone, no matter what the new investors thought. What if the other co-owner was a horrible person? Or worse, what if they had no sense of humor? They’d ruin the Weasley reputation and make it some boring book store. Or puzzle shop? Honestly Fred didn’t know much about the other business, just that he already didn’t like it.

Hailing a cab, a trick his sister-in-law Hermione had shown him years ago, Fred lugged all of his prototypes--skillfully hidden from Muggle eyes and detection systems by layers of spells--into the trunk before hopping in, giving the address of the hotel the investors had booked for him. He was about to shut the door when a panting scream startled him enough to make him stop.

“Wait! Hold the cab!”

Doing as he was told, Fred kept the door open and allowed the stranger to climb in, suitcase and all.

“Thanks,” you said, Fred noting your distinct British accent and strikingly familiar features. “I really need to get to my hotel, I appreciate it--”

“Y/N?”

Shocked, you finally looked at your ride partner’s face for the first time. Soft brown eyes. Freckled face. Bright ginger hair.

“Fred?! Fred Weasley?” You knew for a fact you weren’t mistaken, this was definitely the Fred you remembered. Or maybe it could have been George? It had been so long since you had seen either of them. Since Hogwarts, in fact.

Luckily, Fred nodded, confirming your belief that this was the older Weasley twin and saving yourself from heaps of embarrassment. “Y/N L/N, what are you doing here?”

Fred and you both wore matching grins, stretching from ear to ear. What an insane coincidence. What were the chances that you two would be in the same cab, in the same city, in the same foreign country?

“I’m actually here for business,” you said. “After Hogwarts I opened my own shop--”

“Excuse me,” the cab driver interrupted, wasting no time with politeness nor formalities. “But I have cars lined up behind me and I don’t know where you wanna go little lady. So let’s get on with it, if you will.”

“Oh, yeah of course. It’s, umm, oh shit which hotel was it? It’s on 53rd and 10th, I know that…” You trailed off, trying to remember what your hotel was called. You dug around in your purse, hoping to find a piece of paper with the name on it. “I think it was called--”

“Lotus Hotel.”

It was Fred who had interrupted you, once again, and once again you were just as bewildered as before.

“That’s right,” you said after a few seconds of confused silence. “Yes, yes the Lotus Hotel please,” you told the driver with confidence. Turning back to Fred you tried in earnest to understand what was happening.

“So same location?” the driver asked, to which Fred confirmed before you were speeding off down the crowded streets of the city.

“Oh, I get it,” you said in understanding. “Same hotel as me?”

“That is correct, love. What are the odds?” He wiggled his eyebrows in a half suggestive half just plain goofy manner, awkwardly shuffling so that his long legs had room amongst your many bags.

“That is quite a coincidence,” you agreed. “Funny thing is, I didn’t even choose the location. I have a business meeting in the morning with possible investors and they set everything up for the stay.”

Fred’s mouth practically dropped open at what you had said. “You’re kidding. These investors don’t happen to be Robbie Goldstein and Rachel McMillan, do they?”

“Ok, you need to stop doing that,” you said, officially freaked. “That’s the third time you’ve predicted something and it’s starting to creep me out. You never were very good at legilimency.”

He hushed you quickly, hoping the cab driver hadn’t caught onto the magical term you just used. Thankfully, he was too focused on the roads to notice.

“Ok, Y/N, one last question.”

“And then you’ll explain how you know all this?”

Fred ignored your question and continued with his own. “You said you opened a business. Are you perhaps meeting with another business owner to discuss a collaboration on a new store opening in the city?”

“Yes!” you said, eager to know how Fred could have known that. Was this another one of his pranks? Did he have hidden cameras in the cab somewhere? “How do you know all this?”

He only laughed, a joyous and very relieved grin overtaking his face. Sticking out his right hand, he grabbed yours and shook it eagerly. “Well, Miss L/N, it’s a pleasure to be reacquainted. I’m Frederick Weasley, your new potential partner.”

------------------------------

“You know, you haven’t changed a bit.”

“Oh thank Godric, I was worried you’d think I was grown up and mature now.”

You laughed heartily as you dragged your bags out of the cab, thanking the driver before he grunted annoyedly and drove off. Your drive from the airport had gone faster than expected, mostly due to the fact that you and Fred had so much to catch up on.

After he and George had left Hogwarts in their grand exit, they’d created the shop they’d always dreamed of, parking it right in the middle of Diagon Alley. You, on the other hand, went about creating your success in a much more conventional way. After finishing your last year of school, you started working full time at Zonko’s at Hogsmeade, trying to save up enough money to start your own business.

Many long hours and tiring days later, you opened up your little place, a toy store and puzzle shop. It was a similar setup to what the Weasleys did, but as you described it, “my toys don’t blow up in the user's face.”

You were now very excited for tomorrow’s meeting, the one you had been dreading beforehand. Your business was much smaller than Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes and this would be your first international location. You were afraid that the owner you would be forced to work with would be some stuck up rich big whig who wouldn’t allow you to keep any of your small business charm in the new location. But learning that you would be working with Fred, well that was a relief for many reasons.

Fred rang the hotel desk bell, chatting happily about ideas for the shared shop and new products that fit with what both of you wanted to do.

“Hello there,” said the hotel receptionist, coming around the corner. “What can I do for you today?”

“Two night stay for Frederick Weasley,” said Fred. “Should’ve been booked by Robbie Goldstein.”

The young man typed quickly into his computer before offering Fred a hotel key card. “Here you are Mr. Weasley, room 504. We serve complimentary breakfast from 6 to 9 every morning down in our west hall. If you need anything don’t be afraid to call down and we’ll assist you in any way we can.”

Fred nodded at the man. “Thank you, I appreciate it.” He turned to leave before you grabbed his shirt sleeve and pulled him back.

“Wait for me,” you said. “I’m not finished talking to you yet.”

Fred smiled and waited behind you as you took your turn at the desk.

“Y/N L/N, also booked by Robbie Goldstein.”

He clicked away again but paused for a few seconds, seemingly confused. “You said Y/N L/N?”

Starting to get nervous, you nodded. “Yes, that’s me. Is the reservation not there?” You didn’t want to think about having to find somewhere else to stay, especially because it was getting so late.

“Oh no,” the man replied. “It’s here all right.” Ignoring the confused looks you and Fred were giving each other, the receptionist handed you a hotel key card and gestured to the elevator. “Thank you for choosing to stay with us. You’ll be staying for two nights in room 504. Don’t forget to enjoy our complimentary breakfast from 6--”

“I’m sorry,” Fred interrupted. “But that’s my room. You did say 504, right?”

“Yes sir,” he replied, not bothering to try to understand the predicament. “Mr. Goldstein booked one room for the both of you.”

Your eyes widened and you looked at Fred, silently asking him to help you figure this out. But instead, Fred just broke out laughing, having to brace himself on the front desk.

“I guess that’s what you expect when you let two investors who specialize in pranking shops make the room accommodations.”

“This isn’t funny Fred,” you said, although you had to give Robbie and Rachel credit for this joke. Turning to the receptionist, you sighed and ran your hands through your hair. “There’s at least two separate beds, right?”

He glanced down at his computer screen before looking back up at you with a guilty smile. “Well, about that…”

------------------------------

“Alright, I’ll take the couch, I’m sure it’s a pullout, it has to be.”

Fred stood in the doorway watching you mumble mostly to yourself. As tired as he was and as much as he wanted to just lie down and sleep, somehow watching you freak out about the sleeping arrangements was a much better use of his time.

He watched as you threw the pillows and cushions off of the couch and felt around for a lever, something, anything that would allow you a place to rest. Your face lit up as you felt a small impression and yanked with all your might, only causing you to thump backwards onto your butt on the hotel room floor.

Kicking off his shoes, Fred jumped onto the bed, sighing as he let his body relax. “Come on in darling, there’s plenty of room for the both of us.”

He opened one eye slightly, just enough to see your reaction. You were trying again to make the couch open, although you both knew that it wasn’t a pullout. Nevertheless, you kept pulling at every spot you thought could make a difference.

It reminded Fred of the good old days, back at Hogwarts when you two were so close. You were always so stubborn, and he didn’t realize just how much he had missed having you in his life. He always wondered what happened to you after he and George left, but with the shop opening up and the war around the corner, he never had the thought to write you or track you down. He hoped this time after you two parted ways you would still remain in touch.

You groaned loudly, slapping the couch with one of the pillows you had thrown earlier. Nothing was going as planned and you couldn’t be more annoyed.

“Fine,” you huffed. “I’ll just sleep on the couch, no need for a pullout.” You stomped over to the bed and angrily pulled the blanket from off of him.

“Hey!” he shouted, trying to grab it back but you were too quick. “That’s not fair, it’s cold!”

“If you get the bed,” you said, wrapping yourself up, “then I get to stay warm. Now go to sleep, I’ll see you in the morning.”

He couldn’t help but giggle at the small bundle of you wrapped up in the hotel quilt, looking like an angry little burrito. Standing, he unbuttoned his shirt and threw it in the corner, followed next by his undershirt before he unbuckled his belt. He turned to face you slowly, feeling your eyes on him as they peeked out of your wrapping.

You quickly turned your gaze and glared at the floor. “What are you doing?” you said, hoping Fred didn’t see the blush rising to your cheeks. He did.

He continued to undress, leaving him only in a pair of red boxers that left little to the imagination. “Going to bed, as you said,” he replied nonchalantly. He grabbed a toothbrush from his suitcase and made his way to the bathroom, making sure to walk extra slowly and give you a longer show.

“This is so unprofessional!” you yelled after him.

“We’re not business partners until tomorrow, love,” Fred said with a mouthful of toothpaste. “As far as I see it we can do anything we want tonight.”

Rolling your eyes, you shed the large blanket and grabbed an oversized t-shirt from your bag, hoping you’d be able to change before Fred finished in the bathroom. As he emerged, he saw the tail end of you throwing the shirt on, flashing your thighs and part of your panties for half a second. He averted his eyes out of respect, but that didn’t stop his imagination from running away with what he just saw.

You shuffled past him, taking your turn in the bathroom. How in the world had this happened? How had a nice catch-up with a friend turned into an awkward back and forth the night before the most important business meeting of your life?

All you wanted to do was fall asleep, go through with whatever tomorrow brought you, and pretend like this never happened. But as you came out of the bathroom, you saw that Fred had taken the blanket back, leaving you with nothing except your t-shirt and an uncomfortable couch.

“Fred, let me have it,” you said, trying to yank it from his grip.

“No,” he mumbled, voice muffled by one of the many pillows he was cuddled with.

“Frederick Gideon Weasley, give me the blanket now or so help me…”

Instead of responding, he just reached out and patted you on the top of your head before rolling over and pretending to snore. He was infuriating.

You sulked back to the couch, accepting your defeat. You pulled out all of the clothes in your bag, hoping they could form as some sort of makeshift blanket. But after a few minutes of shivering and curling into the smallest ball possible, you realized that you’d never manage to sleep like this. Fred was staring at you, partially amused and partially concerned. You looked away.

“You can always share with me, you know,” he said, patting the bed next to him.

You scoffed and turned away. “Like I said, Fred, we’re soon-to-be business partners. Imagine how that would look! I’m fine right here, thank you.”

After a few seconds of silence you snuck another look at him. He hadn’t moved an inch, and was instead looking more concerned than before. “You’re going to freeze to death over there.”

“Well maybe that’s because someone stole my blanket.”

“The blanket comes with the bed, and the bed comes with me. Take it or leave it.”

It took everything in you not to scream. You wanted that warm, soft, comfortable bed more than anything at the moment. You needed it. Oh but it would send such a bad message if anyone ever found out…

“If we get caught I’m blaming you,” you relented, trudging over to the bed and crawling underneath the covers, ripping the blanket from a very amused Fred.

“Who’s gonna catch us, Robbie and Rachel? They’re the ones that set this up! Trust me, nothing’s going to happen.”

“It better not,” you said. “And make sure you stay on your side of the bed, I mean it! No touching.”

“Oh come on, Y/N,” Fred said, rolling slightly closer to you. “You act as if we’ve never done this before. We’ve slept with each other dozens of times.”

Your face went red at his words, wishing he would have phrased it a different way.

“You know what I mean,” he said quickly, hearing how his words came across. “But the amount of times we’ve cuddled up in the Gryffindor common room or up stargazing in the astronomy tower. It’s just me, there’s nothing to be scared of.”

“We were also 17 and a lot closer back then,” you retorted, remembering the fond memories you had from your high school days.

Fred huffed and returned to his side. “I’m not saying we weren’t. I just wish you weren’t acting so different now. It’s like we’re barely friends anymore…” His voice drifted off, wishing that he could go back and change the past. It had been 8 years since he last saw you. 8 whole years. Maybe things would’ve been different if he had tried to stay in touch. You’d never even visited his shop in those 8 years, never seen everything he was so proud of. He was stupid to think that one reunion was going to bring back a friendship that was practically already dead. He was even more stupid to think that maybe, just maybe, fate was giving him one last chance to shoot his shot, close to a decade later. What a right idiot he was.

On the other side of the bed, less than a meter away, similar thoughts raced through your mind. 8 years. Why hadn’t you, in 8 years, made one trip to visit their shop. Sure, there was a war going on and you were busy starting your own shop, but things had been fairly calm the last few years. Why had you never reached out? Almost subconsciously, you reached out physically for Fred. Your hand brushed up against his back before you tensed and drew back. You both stilled for a few moments, before Fred rolled over, facing you.

The two of you just stared at each other, both playing mental images of what your lives could have looked like the last 8 years if just one of you had done something.

“You’re not seeing anyone, are you?” Fred asked, breaking the silence. You shook your head. He moved closer.

“Are you?” you asked. He shook his head. You moved closer.

Your faces were now about a foot apart. You moved your hand to rest it between your face and the pillow. Fred copied your actions. You laughed softly, the movement causing a strand of hair to fall into your face.

Fred reached his hand out to move it before hesitating. “Can I?” His voice was so soft, so full of care. His hand hesitated in the air for a second before you nodded. He brushed the strands behind your ear, fingertips so gentle that you got chills up and down your spine. He let his hand linger before it moved to cup your face. “I’ve missed you.”

You smiled and leaned into his touch. “I’ve missed you too, Freddie.”

His hand left your face and moved down to your waist, eyes not leaving yours in case you ever grew uncomfortable. He wrapped his arm around you, pulling you closer to him just like you used to do all those years ago. You buried your face in the crook of his neck and hummed contently, before both of you slowly drifted off to sleep.

------------------------------

“Freddie, Y/N! How are ya!”

Robbie Goldstein, a plump man with fading hair ran up to greet you and Fred in the lobby of his and his partner’s office, shaking both of your hands fervently.

“Hey Robbie,” said Fred, slapping the man on the back. “I’m glad to be here.”

“Same with me,” you said, glad you could finally meet the man with whom you’d been discussing business through letters in person.

Robbie looked between the two of you, sly grin on his face. “Ah, so I see you’ve already met them. Wouldn’t happen to be because of a little mishap at the hotel last night, would it?”

You groaned internally, hating that someone else knew about the previous night, but Fred only laughed and wrapped an arm around your shoulders.

“A great prank, I must admit, but Y/N and I actually go way back. I’ve known her since I was 11 years old, so nice try. I couldn’t imagine how that would’ve gone if we were complete strangers.”

Robbie’s face fell a little before he shrugged and nodded his head in defeat. “Well, what are the odds of that?”

“Astronomical,” you said, giving Fred a subtle tap with your foot.

Robbie gestured for the two of you to follow him into the conference room where discussions about the new business would commence. “Well, I’m glad that you two seem to get along then, this is going to make things a lot easier. Oh, and don’t worry about arrangements tonight, I’ve decided not to let my joke stretch on and I booked another room for one of you for your last night in town.”

You breathed a sigh of relief, one that didn’t go unnoticed by Fred, and stepped into the conference room. “Thanks Robbie, that makes things a lot easier.”

“Yeah,” said Fred hesitantly, “thanks for that.”

He shut the door behind you and straightened up. There was no place for personal feelings in this business negotiation. He needed to do what was best for his company and yours, no distractions. No thoughts of crushed hope that suddenly plagued his mind.

------------------------------

Fred hated the bed he was sleeping on. Granted, it was the same bed as the night before, but this time it felt different. It felt like it was mocking him. You had been the one to offer to change rooms and it seemed like you couldn’t wait to get out of there and to your own bedroom, free of any Weasleys. It made Fred sick to think about.

He had just gotten used to the idea of something happening between the two of you. Last night, it all seemed perfect. You had cuddled the same way you had before, talked like nothing had changed. Hell, he even woke up with you lying sprawled out on top of him, a little trickle of drool falling onto his chest. He didn’t mind.

But now, everything that happened the night before seemed like a dream.

Fred knew he’d at least get to see you sporadically from now on. Your business negotiations with Robbie and Rachel went great, and the two of you, three counting George, were going to be combining forces and opening a joke and toy shop in the city sometime within the next year. It went exactly how Fred had wanted it to go, and yet so horribly wrong at the same time.

He didn’t want to only interact with you as a business partner and casual friend. He wanted so much more than you were willing to give him, and having to see you and write you and work with you was going to be torture for him. He buried his face in the pillows, gripping the large blanket to his chest, wishing it was you instead. Stupid Robbie and his stupid pranks and stupid business and--

His thoughts were interrupted by a knock on the door. Fred lifted his head to check the clock. It was 2 in the morning. Who in the world would be knocking this late at night? Fred slowly got out of bed, too tired to bother putting anything more decent on. He looked through the peephole of the door but his eyes were too blurry to make anything out. Groaning, he unlocked the door and pulled it open.

Standing in front of him, clothed in the oversized t-shirt from last night and a pair of booty shorts, was you, looking nervous and embarrassed. Fred hadn’t noticed the previous day, but the shirt you had been wearing was one of his old Quidditch practice jerseys, all beat up and way too huge on you. He remembered the day he gave that to you, or rather when you stole it from him because you complained about it being too cold. Fred had to hold back a laugh at the irony.

“I, umm,” you started, not knowing what to say to him. How were you supposed to explain that you missed him so much that spending one night away from him was too much for you to bear? How last night had been the best sleep you had in years because of how content and at peace he made you feel. How could you convey all of your feelings to him at this very moment?

“I don’t want to be alone.”

Fred wasted no time in picking you up, laughing as you screamed and kicked your legs around. “Fred Weasley, you put me down!”

He did as he was told and threw you onto the bed before jumping, arms and legs spread out, and landing straight on top of you. “I’m so glad you're here,” he said, peppering your cheeks with kisses. He pushed himself up, scanning your face to make sure what he did was ok, but you grabbed his face in your cheeks and pulled him down into a long kiss. Fred smiled through the kiss, almost laughing at how everything was working out. Maybe fate did have something to do with it after all.

Fred pulled away from the kiss, resting his forehead against yours. “So,” he said, mischief glinting in his eyes, “how about we put this bed to good use?”

Tag List: @famdomhideout @amourtentiaa

#theweasleyslut's 2k writing challenge #fredweasleyimagine #fredweasley #fred #fred x reader #fred weasley x reader #fredweasleyfluff #only one bed

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sailorhyunjinz · 3 years

Note

What do you think first kiss with skz be like?

aAWH SOME FLUFF T-T OK BUT KEEP IN MIND- fluff is not my strongest pursuit hence why im not a fluff writer hahsah but HEY ITS CUTE!! and anon,,, im so sorry this took such time IM SO SO SORRY AAAAAAAAH-

also this makes me wanna know my anons first kiss story, AAAH SPILL THEM

warnings; none?? fluff,,, wow,, rare to say that LMAO- also gn!reader and also suggestiveee??

Bangchan

~gentleman~

will only kiss you if you are REALLY ready for it and if the two of you are dating

doesnt want to rush you into things (even if its just a kiss) because he doesnt know how comfortable you are and such

basically a sweetheart

i imagine its like a cute little date

night where you guys are stargazing, lying on a blanket on a grassy hill with his arm as a pillow for your head

“chan, look! its a shooting star! make a wish” you giggle to which he smiles, looking at your pretty features that are lit up by the moonlight

“hmm,,, dear star, i wish that y/n would kiss me” he says, laughing directly after but soon being interupted as you attach your plushy lips against his

its probably the most romantic event in your life

him smiling into the kiss as your tongues danced around softly

when you pulled away you laughed, saying; “wishes do really come true, huh?”

poor baby is blushing, his ears red but thankfully for him its too dark for you to see

Minho

the “evil roommate that secretly has feelings for you”

“lee minho i swear im gonna rip your hair off if you touch my plants again”

minho got out of his room, looking at you standing in the living room and rearranging the plants on the windowsill

“they are all scattered, it’s ugly” he says rudely

“dont call my children ugly” you spit back at him

there was always a weird tension between you and minho. you were glad to have found a roommate that made a good friend eventhough he was a pain in the ass sometimes

minho liked you,,, and therefore he did everything the opposite of what he felt. if he wanted to compliment you on your outfit he would instead say that you looked “overdressed” or “too much” but you always rolled your eyes towards his snarky comments

you pecked your plants, giving them the love they needed and minho just stood frozen in the doorway, without thinking he spoke

“how come you never do that to me?”

silence

you sneered, placing down the plant you held and streched out your arms

“c’mere if you dare” you said jokingly, not expecting the boy you always thought was so devilish to run into your arms, lips touching and your eyes widening at the unexpected action

the two of you held each other, breathing shaky as wet tongues collided, the sun beaming upon your figures

“m-minho,,, it was a joke!” you laughed, slapping his arm playfully as you pulled away

“but to me it wasn’t” he remarked cockily, licking the inside of his cheek

Changbin

very much giving me like “we dont like each other but we have to work with each other”

like you two are co-workers, working in a boring office and you were assigned to put together this one report and,,, lets say Changbin wasnt your favorite in the office

there was nothing wrong with him,,, its just his vibe that was off putting but sigh,,, work is work

you started compiling information, sitting in a seperate room and drawing graphs on the whiteboard, projecting some other type of research onto the board

“do you think we will need to stay late?” he asks, ruffling his hair in frustration

you sigh and nod, this wasnt going to get done anytime soon.

dawn set on horizon and the others workers packed up their belonging one by one and left until there was only you and changbin left in the now quiet office

you sat next to him, yawning as you typed something as you felt him looking at you

you looked back with a questionable expression, confused when he uttered his words

“do you hate me, y/n?”

“i mean,,, you are a dick sometimes but i dont hate you, at least you do your work”

he shrugged his shoulders, loosening his necktie as he leaned back into the office chair

“a dick, huh? maybe i try to push you away so you wont catch the same feelings i have for you”

you snapped your head towards him. you couldnt lie, he was attractive and at this point you were desperate

“kiss me then” you said simply causing the boy to immediately cup your cheeks, latching onto your lips as if he’d waited for this moment for forever

more tongue, wants you to feel him ;))

lets just say,,, he made it up to you

Hyunjin

i get this like,,, youthful vibe,,, like the two of you were childhood friends

and,,, eventually you catch feelings for him which you hate because,,, you dont want to ruin this friendship

every time somebody mistook you for a couple the both of you would make retching noises, mocking each other

“you think my standards are that low?” hyunjin says pointing at you to which you raise your fist

“hwang hyunjin, you’re dead meat”

but,,, he was only in denial, it was his childhood friend afterall

probably happened at one of those night where your mom was working late and you invited hyunjin to keep you company, him bringing kkami as well.

“dont fucking burn the pizza, hyunjin” you say, petting kkami until the little rascal ran away from your lap

“if you helped it wouldnt be burned” he replies as he comes out with two plates with the pizza burned on the edges

“but if they taste bad you can always taste my lips” he jokes and you look at him with a disgusted facial expression before laughing

“i bet they taste even worse then your mess of a pizza, i would like to see you try to even get me to peck you” you scoff and hyunjin rolls his eyes, sitting next to you on the sofa

“try it then” he taunts but is taken aback when you actually kiss him, your nose accidentally brushing against his as you purse your lips, hyunjin timidly using his tongue to test the waters

he wanted it so bad and he finally got it >:(( he could swear that he heard fireworks going off in his brain

a moment of silence appeared until hyunjin cockily uttered:

“so,,, did they taste better?”

Jisung

the “i met you at a party and made out with you drunk”

he stared at you the entire night, catching glances while you looked away and the music blared in the nightclub that was packed with people.

you ordered a drink at the bar, tapping your fingers on the oak surface where you rested your arms, suddenly somebody bumped into you

turning around you saw jisung and you sighed, thinking his behaviour was starting to get annoying

“oh its you again” you said loud for him to hear as he sat down next to you, having a annoying smirk plastered on his lips

“looks like you are having fun, let me guess,,, you’re trying to get over your ex” jisung says, leaning his elbow against the bar and you glared at him because it was true

you scoffed, avoiding his question and instead sipping on the sour drink you had in your hands, trying to forget everything

he was attractive which only pissed you off even more, as if you hadnt had enough pretentious assholes in your life

the glass slammed against the table as you put it down harshly, gazing into the boys dark brown eyes

“alright, deal. make me forget then since you think you know everything about me” you stated to which jisung raised his eyebrow

the palm of his hand was firmly placed on the bar as he leaned in to kiss you, feeling the bitter liquour hitting his tastebuds as your tongues crashed against each other

it felt,,, freeing. you swung your arms around his neck, wanting him closer to your body

by the way he was kissing you, you could tell that he was there for the same reason as you. a sloppy and heated kiss to fill your thoughts with something other than your ex

safe to say that the kiss progressed ;))))

Felix

aaah cutie boyfriend that is just too shy to even give you a kiss like 3 months into the relationship (OK DONT ATTACK ME NOW, TAKE YOUR TIME, NO RUSH YOU GUYS)

he is shy with pretty much everything, it was only recently he could hold your hand without his heart jumping out of his chest.

it was a simple date night! takeout and games at his place

you layed your head in his lap as you watched him finish up the game that you had given up on a long time ago

he shifted awkwardly in his seat, not used to being so close to such a pretty person before

“ah- fuck! i lost again,,,” he says in defeat, his head rolling backwards before a frustrated sigh escaped his lips

“you did well felix! look how far you got!” you say, pointing towards the score on the screen but not getting his attention.

you sat up, looking at him for a moment as his eyelashes lightly draped over his closed eyes, cheeks speckled with freckles

you couldnt help yourself, he looked so angelic despite being defeated and so you leaned in, lacing your fingers with his and softly placing your lips against his

he opened his eyes in panic before being swallowed by the fluffy feeling of having your lips to himself, he giggled before stroking your cheek as he tilted his head, almost setting a rhythm to the sweet kiss

felix started laughing shyly, cheeks tinged with red as he hid his face with a pillow

“but you won my kiss!” you said through a smile causing felix to blush even more

Seungmin

its like,,, maybe,,, your third or fourth date??

this one is more chill than the previous ones that were at like some fancy restaurang because hello dandy puppy boy wants class

but this one was like a stroll down the night streets and eating ice cream in the middle of the summer

both of you were casually dressed, holding hands as butterflies bubbled in your stomach from the contact

his hand is all warm and it engulfs yours >:(

you look at all the pretty sights of the night, eventually climbing up to some like high point and looking down at all the lights that blinked

after a good 1 1/2 hours of walking your legs were starting to ache and so you both sat down on the swings of a desolate playground, swinging gently with your legs dangling

“i dont understand how you’re able to,,, even be friends with me,,, or whatever we are,,”

seungmin hummed, looking up into the night sky

“i promise y/n, i will be your,,, friend but,,,”

you looked at him as he said “but”, imagining the worst

“i dont wanna be friends, i wanna be more than a friend to you”

his eyes twinkled as he stood up and stood infront of you, grabbing your hand

you slowly looked up at him, his figure standing in the way of the moon as the two of you shared a long gaze, his eyes as sweet as honey, dripping with pure adoration

you pulled him closer by the hand and slowly he inched to your lips, the distance between you minimizing as his face tilted to the right, a delicate and sugary kiss landing on your tastebuds from the ice cream from earlier.

your heart skipped a beat, the slightest sound of lips smacking

“i think i love you y/n” he whispered close to your lips after pulling away.

Jeongin

like,,, uni buddies!

both being med students meant late study night, usually in school

there’s papers and diagrams laid out all over the tables and floors along with a bunch of energy drink cans, some scribbles on the whiteboard

the two of you were friends and met in uni and everyone had always nagged at you for not going after him since he was everything someone ever wanted

you always said that you were friends and that you couldnt imagine being in a relationship with jeongin

but studying with him alone into the deep night felt different, many times you couldnt concentrate when he looked so cute sitting right beside you

being close friends, there was nothing weird about hugging or leaning against each other and so you leaned against his shoulder and yawned as the cozy boy was rewriting some notes.

“one hour left y/n and then- then we can go hoooome!”

you giggled as you looked at him and he diverted his attention from his papers to you, his lips only mere inches from yours

you didnt know what the fuck you were doing and neither did jeongin, it was late and the both of you were tired from studying for finals

and so your lips drew closer until they clashed, feeling a tension that you’ve never felt with him before

he’s definitely a shy,,, kisser?? not too much tongue since he doesnt know how LMAO so its like soft >:((

didnt know what to do when he pulled away, looking around the room or covering his blushing face with his hands but when you hug him he hugs you back

maybe even coming to terms that he does have feeling for you,,, and so do you~

#stray kids fluff #skz fluff #stray kids headcanons #skz headcanons

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chudleycanonficfest · 3 years

Text

t-shirt

Day 8, Story #1 is by @accio-broom

Title: t-shirt Author/Artist: accio-broom Pairing: Ron Weasley / Hermione Granger Prompt: Cuddling Rating: T Trigger Warning(s) (if any): None

In the morning when you wake up, I like to believe you are thinking of me And when the sun comes through your window, I like to believe you’ve been dreaming of me.

Hermione Granger isn’t the kind of girl who struggles to get out of bed, especially when there are pressing Head Girl duties to attend to. Her to-do list is as long as her arm, she has five essays to write and a whole raft of other bits and bobs she needs to see to.

But right now, with the sun peeking through the edges of the heavy curtains surrounding her four-poster bed, she wants to bask in the aftermath of her dream just a little longer. Even as her dorm mates start to clatter around the room, getting ready for the day, she snuggles deeper under her duvet and shuts her eyes, trying her best to get back to her own little world.

Is Ron doing exactly the same thing right now? He loves his bed, and always complains when she forces him out of it earlier than he wants. Is he having the same lovely dreams as her? Probably not, he’s been away on an extremely secretive training mission for the past five days, and he isn’t a fan of sleeping on the floor. Still, she likes to think that even the memory of her has been keeping him warm at night, even if he isn’t comfortable wherever he is.

Dreaming.

Her dreams last night were amazing.

They were in the Gryffindor common room, sprawled across the comfiest sofa next to the fire. He’d untucked her blouse, and one of his hands was under the white material, massaging her bra-clad breasts whilst he buried the other somewhere underneath her school skirt. He was only wearing his plaid pyjama bottoms, which were doing nothing to hide his growing excitement, and the faded orange Cannon’s t-shirt he often wore to sleep.

She loves that top. It’s threadbare and far too small for him, accentuating his muscles, and exposing patches of his skin. She likes to wind her fingers through the holes, count the freckles she can see as they explore each other’s bodies. Dream Hermione couldn’t get enough of Ron’s skin; she licked and sucked at his neck while her hips lifted to press against his, grounding into his erection and causing the delightful friction she can never get enough of.

Despite their public position, there had been no panicking about being caught or interrupted. She was consumed in Ron, and he in her. The most perfect dream.

But it was all a dream. Hermione is still at school and Ron is in the Auror Academy, and they are facing months of separation. If he does well in his mission, he’ll pass his assessments and move on to the next stage. There will be no passionate make-out sessions, heavy petting, or sex anywhere until her Easter holidays at the earliest, and it definitely won’t be happening at school.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping.

With a heavy huff, she rolls onto her back and reaches under the mattress for the pristine parchment she has hidden there.

Over the years she’s known Ron, she could safely say that he was rubbish at writing to her. Summer breaks and Christmas holidays passed without a single word from him. But their newly fledged relationship, combined with her leaving in September, seemed to inspire a completely different side to the boy. If he was at home, she could now expect Pidwidgeon almost every morning, and each letter the owl delivered was soppier and longer than the last.

It is clear that Ron misses her.

She finds her wand under her pillow and pulls it out, tapping it against the paper before discarding it again. It begins to unfold, revealing a whole pile of messages from her beau, Ron’s familiar unintelligible scrawl decorating every inch of them. If she hadn’t spent the last six years deciphering his essays, she might have struggled to read them, but now she devours every word, the familiarity somewhat easing her home-sickness.

In his first letter he reminds her that she has to keep these letters secret, to hide them safely away from prying eyes. Ron doesn’t want anyone getting their hands on them, a panic magnified by the fact that Hermione is sharing a dorm with Ginny this year.

“Just imagine what they’d say,” Ron writes, and Hermione can picture the tips of his ears turning bright pink as his quill scratches against the parchment. “I don’t want them to take the piss.”

She’d written back, assuring him that his letters were safe and that he shouldn’t be ashamed of his ability to express his feelings. It’s the sign of a mature man.

Plus, she finds the confidence in his words sexy.

Letting her fingers trail over the paper, Hermione allows herself to get lost in the things he tells her. There’s the boring, mundane things, like how work is going and pleading with her not to get riled up over her latest marks (which ended up being perfect, of course). Next, come the promises and their plans for life post-Hogwarts. They want to get a flat together and go on a lovely holiday, where they can be alone for a whole week. Each sentence makes the smile on her face grow even bigger.

She takes her time, savouring how close to Ron they make her feel. She misses him like crazy. When she packed her trunk last September, she couldn’t even imagine how hard being apart from him would be. She’s an independent woman, a war heroine, in fact, but the yearning and pining for the guy drove her mental on occasion. She hates that she’s so reliant on him now.

Still, there are only a few more months left of her school year, and then they’ll be together forever.

The words run out, and Hermione lets out a heavy sigh. She sits up, tapping the paper again with her wand before stowing it safely back in its hiding spot. Feeling ready to face the day, she swings her legs out of bed and throws back her curtains, catching Ginny by surprise.

“Good morning!” Hermione smiles as she springs out of bed.

“Is it?” Ginny complains in return. “It’s snowing, which means no Quidditch.”

Hermione collects her things and heads for the shared bathroom with a chuckle, not letting the thought of bad weather affect her good mood.

⁂

When I saw you, everyone knew, I liked the effect that you had on my eyes But no one else heard the weight of your words or, felt the effect that they have on my mind.

Today’s Head Girl duties include monitoring the monthly visit to Hogsmeade. As a seventh-year, Hermione is allowed out of the castle anytime she wants, as long as she tells her Head of House. But the younger children always need supervising. Even with the war over, and the threat of Voldemort over, they still need to be cautious.

It’s her favourite part of the month. Being cooped up in the castle is so oppressive after a year spent camping in forests and hiding on cliff tops, so being out in the village helps clear her head.

If she gets five minutes, she may even be able to pick up Ron’s birthday present. There’s still a week until the big day, and chances are, he’ll probably still be away for work, but she wants to collect it now, just in case. She’ll wait until she sees him face to face before she gives it to him.

The late February snow is trying to melt, but the keen Scottish wind keeps the last of it lingering around. Hermione stands in her usual spot outside Honeydukes, watching as the students enter the shop then leave with their arms full of treats. Her parents would have an aneurysm if they saw the number of sugary treats devoured by the children in the school. Just the amount Ron consumes would set them off.

The thought of her boyfriend brings another smile to her lips, though it does nothing to stave off the cold. What she wants right now is to be cuddled up in Ron Weasley’s strong arms, a mug of Molly’s delicious hot chocolate and a roaring fire, and in that particular order, too.

A loud pop distracts her as someone apparates at the bottom of the lane. Over the heads of raucous students, a tall stranger appears, bundled up warm against the cold. She finds her gaze drawn to the newcomer, and she immediately recognises the bounce in his step as he walks past the rows of shops and hordes of students.

Hermione’s heart beats in an unsteady rhythm against her ribcage, her eyes widen, and the air disappears from her lungs. As the man draws closer, she catches a peek of red hair under a bright orange bobble hat and the long, thin nose that so often grazes against hers as they kiss. But what draws her to the man is his deep blue eyes, which she can see shining up the street from a million miles away.

It’s Ron.

With an uncharacteristic squeal, she takes off from her spot, trying her best to keep her balance in the ice as she throws herself at her boyfriend. Arms and legs lock around his long, gangly body with such force he’s almost bowled over. He compensates with long fingers clinging on to her as she buries her head against the crock of his neck. Her senses ignite as she takes a long breath, drinking in the smell of him—clean, with a hint of sandalwood and eucalyptus.

“What are you doing here?” she mumbles against his skin, her lips finding a path between his knitted scarf and stubble up his pale neck.

Ron moans at the assault from her kisses. “Missed you, is all.”

Hermione Granger has always been an intelligent girl, so it’s a surprise to her that a handful of words can turn her mind to mush. Right now, despite the fact she’s supposed to be on Head Girl duty, all she can focus on is the handsome man in her arms, and the fire blazes through her skin at their contact, even through layers of clothes.

Falling.

Forgetting that they’re in a public place, Hermione’s mouth seeks his, and they fall into a hungry kiss. Teeth clash, noses bump together, yet after weeks away, it’s the best thing in the world. The taste of peppermint and chocolate frogs spreads across her tongue, taking her straight back to lazy summer days spent snogging out by the lake at the Burrow.

Just as her lungs feel like they might explode, Ron tears his lips away from hers, and he flashes her one of his patented lop-sided grins. If she didn’t have her legs firmly wrapped around him, she might have gone weak at the knees.

With a chuckle, he teases, “Guess you missed me too?” All Hermione can do is nod in reply, overwhelmed by his sudden appearance. “Good! I missed you so fucking much. My mission finished early, but Harry is still away, and I didn’t know what else I could do to distract me from worrying about the results.”

“Oh, glad to see I’m your second option,” Hermione chides, although her massive smile does not falter. “How did you know I was here?”

“Ginny has been sending me your Head Girl schedule for months. Not that I’m keeping tabs on you,” he adds. “Just wanted to make the most of any opportunity I might have to see you.”

Impressed by his cunning plan, she presses one final hard kiss against his lips before removing herself from their reunion embrace. “Well, since it’s your birthday in a week, I guess I better start spoiling you.”

She tangles their fingers together before starting to lead him down the lane.

“But what about your duties?” he questions. “I didn’t think your slot finished until lunchtime?”

“It doesn’t, but I don’t think it will matter if I skive off a little earlier. Especially given the circumstances.”

With her back turned, she misses the look of glee that passes over Ron’s face before his eyes turn dark. She’s too absorbed in her mission to buy him all his favourite treats, cavities be damned, then curl up in a cosy corner by the fire in the Three Broomsticks so that she can do some serious catching up with him.

Their palms press together as they walk, filling her body with warmth. Ron is back where he belongs, and even if it’s only for a few hours, this feeling is a hundred times better than any of the letters he sends while they’re apart.

I know, ‘cause I’d spend half this morning, thinking about the t-shirt you sleep in, I should know, ‘cause I’d spend all the whole day, listening to your message I’m keeping,

Not that she plans on ever getting rid of them.

and never deleting.

#chudleycanonficfest2021 #HP fest #hp canon pairings #canon fest romantic #submission #romione #ron x hermione

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moldisgoodforyou · 3 years

Text

reunion (i)

warnings: smut !!!

wordcount: 3.2k lmfao why is it always longer when it’s sexual

_____

When he finally came to visit - the longest three months of her life, Sophie thought - she saw him from a distance and picked up her pace, heart pounding in her chest, feeling a weird mix of nerves and anticipation. He was clearly lost and glancing around at all the Spanish signs with a confused look, trying to decipher where he should go, until he collided chest-to-face with something - no, someone.

“Shit, sorry - er -” He racked his brain for the Spanish word she had taught him but came up short once he realized it was Sophie herself, purposely bumping into him. “Sophie!”

She slipped her arms around his waist without hesitation, laughing. “Hi! You’re here!”

And god, if that laughter wasn’t the prettiest thing he’d ever heard. Rafe wrapped both arms securely around her, pressing her to his chest, and inhaled. She had changed some, hair highlighted from the sun and tanned skin all around with some new freckles dusted across her nose, but she still smelled like the lemon and lavender perfume he always loved and her smile was exactly the same, making him feel warm inside almost instantly.

"God, I missed you so fucking much." He mumbled against her hair.

“Missed you too.” She lifted her head and kissed him, for much shorter than he liked, and he nearly whined when she pulled away.

"That's all I get after three whole months?" He teased and she grinned, slipping her hand in his back pocket to retrieve his phone and playfully squeezed his butt as she did.

"You can get more when we're not in the airport, you look like a prime pickpocket target right now." She flicked the collar of his polo - a pale blue, her favorite color on him - with a teasing smile. "C'mon, we have to catch the train. Was your flight okay?"

“Yeah, easy.” His hand found his way to hers like a magnet, not wanting to let her go for a second. “You look incredible.”

“You don’t look so bad yourself. Summer looks good on you.” She grinned, squeezing his hand as they wove their way through the busy airport. Nothing compared to the feeling of being back with his girl.

Rafe refused to let her take his backpack or suitcase, shouldering everything himself. He had left his suitcase half empty, expecting to take home some of her clothes and souvenirs after she had nervously told him she wasn’t sure if she could afford to check another bag. When she showed him some of her favorite things she was going to have to leave behind, over FaceTime with a pout - a unique silk dress and that damned leather jacket - it was easy for him to sacrifice his own space.

Once they got on the train to get to the city’s center, he wrapped an arm around her shoulders, pulling her in to press a kiss to her temple. “I’m never letting you leave me for that long again.”

She furrowed her brow, peering up at him. “What if I wanted to travel?”

“Then I’ll go too, if I can.” He declared with a grin. “I don’t think I’m a fan of not having you around.”

She blushed, ducking her head down with a shy smile. “I can’t believe you’re actually here and not just on my phone screen.”

He nudged her chin up with one knuckle, giving her a short kiss. “All real. What are our plans today?”

Sophie brightened, eager to tell him. “We’re meeting my friends for brunch later, but we have time to drop by my apartment and you can shower, if you want. That okay?”

“Yeah. You’re not gonna let me nap, I assume?” He hid a yawn behind his fist.

She checked her hip against his with a grin. “No sir. We’re doing brunch, then the beach, then I thought we could go to the market and get things for dinner, I’ll cook. Deal?”

He beamed, ruffling her hair affectionately. “Deal. I wanna hear your Spanish skills too, I’ve only heard it when you’re drunk so far.”

She laughed, tucking her head closer into his chest. “That can be arranged.”

_____

After navigating the metro successfully, they made it to Sophie’s apartment that she shared with her three roommates. Rafe scowled when she presented him with his three-day metro card, already paid for. “How much was this?”

“No te importa.” She told him with a grin.

“English, please?” He was already swiping for the Venmo app on his phone but she plucked it out of his hand, shaking her head. “None of your business. I don’t want a reimbursement.”

“C’mon, I’ve missed out on three whole months of not paying for you. I gotta catch up.” He protested, taking his phone back.

“No. Too bad.” She unlocked the door to her apartment and swung it wide open, smiling. “Welcome to mi casa.”

He’d already seen the majority of it on FaceTime, but it was nice to be re-oriented. “I love it, Soph. Very cool, it’s very you.”

“Thank you, thank you.” Sophie then showed him into her room - and immediately cringed at the state of disarray. She’d been attempting to pack before he came and there was a pile of dirty clothes in one corner, her shoes scattered around and some photos and posters piled up to take home. “Shoot, um, sorry. Let me just get this real quick.” She excused herself, flitting around the room to pick things up as he watched, amused, and took a seat on the unmade bed.

“Didn’t think you were the type to have a messy room.”

“Yes, well, I’m much cleaner with roommates around, and you've never seen my room at home.” She replied, satisfied as she tossed her laundry into the hamper. “Oh, can’t forget that -” She walked past him to try and grab a spare water glass on her nightstand, but he grabbed her around the waist, stopping her in her tracks. “Sophie.”

“Yeah?” She had to remind herself to breathe, not used to him being so damn close - and seriously, how the hell did he smell so good after that long of a flight?

“It’s been an hour.” He trailed one hand down to rest along the small of her back, tracing one finger down her spine along the way.

“An hour...?” She bit her lip, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

“It’s been a whole hour since we’ve been back together and you haven’t properly kissed me yet.” He declared, a wide grin spreading across his face, and her cheeks tinged pink. “Is that so?”

Rafe laughed at her embarrassment, resting one large hand on the side of her face to cup her cheek and pull her in. “C’mere, angel.”

She felt her stomach flutter as she kissed him, shortly, then pulled away with a smirk. “Will that do?”

“Absolutely not.” He leaned back onto the bed, pulling her on top of him abruptly and laughed when she let out a surprised squeal. When he rolled them over, kissing her hard, she promptly hooked an ankle around his legs to draw him closer. “Fuck, I missed you.” She mumbled against his lips, tugging at the hem of his shirt.

“I love you so damn much.” He murmured breathlessly, pulling away only for a second to yank his shirt over his head and toss it aside. Hers followed shortly after, along with her bra. When he started working at the drawstring of her shorts, she grabbed his hand abruptly. “Wait, no - I said we’d meet my roommates at brunch -”

“Fuck brunch.” Rafe stated, placing hot, rushed kisses along her throat.

Sophie moaned, scratching lightly along his back. “Rafe.”

“We can be late.” He bartered, reaching down and rubbing two fingers across her through her shorts. She bit her lip hard, trying her best to think of an argument. “I...I told them...”

“I’ll be quick.” He promised, pushing her up the bed and grinned up at her from between her legs. “Judging by the look of you, you will too.”

She huffed, indignant, but it quickly turned into another moan as he nipped along her inner thigh. “Rafe Cameron.”

“Sophie Flint.” He tugged her shorts down along with her underwear in one fell swoop, then licked a wide strip up her entrance. She yelped in surprise, fisting her fingers in his hair. “Jesus Christ.”

“Oh, no, that’s okay, you can just call me Rafe. Cameron works too. Too fast?” He lifted his head, both hands gripping her thighs, but she practically pushed him back down, scowling. “Shut the fuck up - no, no, more. Just not used to it.” She pleaded, moaning again when he got to work.

“Be good.” He flicked her inner thigh when she nearly clamped her legs around his head. “Fucking - sorry -” She barely got out before she was whimpering, trying her best to keep quiet. If her neighbors heard her, both apartments with students in her program, she’d never hear the end of it.

“Wanna hear you.” He mumbled against her, sliding a finger into her entrance and groaning when she clenched around him. “So fucking tight.”

She whined, tugging at his hair. “Need you. Please.”

“M’ right here. Not letting you go again.” He soothed, teasing with small kisses everywhere but where she wanted it as his fingers worked at her core.

“Rafe, please.” She practically begged, trying her best to pull him back up the bed while her brain was going into overdrive.

“Patience, angel.” He admonished, slowing his pace.

“We’re going to be late.” She argued, pressing her hips up into him. “Need you, now.”

“Use your words, angel.” He grinned, loving the way she twisted and whined under him.

“Don’t make me say it - oh, fuck, right there -”

He withdrew his fingers immediately before she could come, smirking as she cried out in frustration. Rafe then sucked them both into his mouth, down to the knuckle, and she just watched with wide eyes, until she came back to her senses.

Sophie pulled him up the bed and flipped him over so he was flat on his back, her knees on either side of his hips. She worked at his shorts quickly and unbuttoned them, shoving them down his legs just enough so she could pull out his cock. He hissed at the contact, jerking into her hand, and she grinned at him. “Eager, aren’t we?”

“Soph - I’m gonna cum in like, two seconds if you keep moving like that.” He bit out, watching as she slid her thumb gently back and forth over the head of his cock.

When she nodded and knelt down, tongue darting out to wet her lips, Rafe shook his head quickly and nudged her back up. “Not gonna last.”

“Oh. Oh.” She grinned, proud she was still able to work him up so easily. “Fuck, I don’t have any -”

“In my backpack.” He hurriedly interrupted her. “At the bottom, there’s a strip of them.”

“Prepared.” She commented with a smirk, then crawled off him to grab a condom, running her hands down his thighs as she went. He sat up on his elbows to watch her bend over, grinning sheepishly as she caught him when she turned back around, gold foil in hand. “Quit staring.”

“I can’t. I haven’t seen you in this high definition in ages.” He joked, hands automatically going to her hips as she crawled back on him. She took care of rolling on the condom, making him let out a strained groan, before rocking her hips against his. “Alright?”

“Yes, let me - oh, fuck -” He breathed out as she sank down on him, his grip tightening on her hips. She winced, lifting up a little with her hands braced on his abdomen. “Okay, angel?” He asked with concern, reaching up to tug the end of her hair a little.

“Yeah, just, one second.” She sat down on him, slower, and her eyes fluttered shut as the feeling went from a pinch of pain to pleasure.

“There you go. Good girl.” He murmured as she started rolling her hips against his, slowly picking up the pace.

“Fucking hell.” She mumbled - she’d never quite expressed how much good girl turned her on, but he had seemed to pick up on it over time. He kept a firm grip on her hips or just under her ass, nearly bruising the skin as he helped her ride him, but she didn’t mind one bit. “So full, fuck.”

“Yeah? Doing so good for me, Soph. So good at riding me.” He praised, one hand going up to toy with her nipple while the other went south to her clit, making her gasp when he rubbed steady circles across it.

“Baby, I��m - I can’t -” she started, her pace becoming a little more frenzied.

He was struggling to hold it too, nodding. “I know. Come for me, angel, show me how good you can be.”

His words were enough to push her over the edge and she whined, letting her head drop back as she came, digging her nails a little into his chest. As she clenched around him it triggered his own release, and he groaned, breathing heavy. “Fuck, Soph.”

They both lay there in silence for a few moments, her head nuzzled into his neck and their pants filling the air. When she moved a little, attempting to get off him, he grabbed her hips suddenly, hissing - and she paused, a little incredulous. “Are - are you seriously still hard?”

He gave her a slow, cocky grin. “Maybe.”

“Oh my god.” She giggled, pressing a kiss to the column of his throat and her phone chimed, making her wince. “God damnit. What time is it?”

Rafe was willing himself to make the erection go away - a difficult task when he was literally still halfway inside her, and she kept shifting on top of him. “No idea. Do I need to take care of this...or...?”

“Um.” She carefully crawled off him and reached for her phone on the nightstand. Sophie bit back a grin and glanced at her phone, shaking her head. “Okay. If we leave in eight minutes, we can make it to the metro stop and get to brunch only fifteen minutes late - Rafe!”

He had gotten up and scooped her off the bed in a bridal carry, then kicked open the door and paused. “Where’s the shower?”

She squirmed, fighting his grip until he put her down, then pushed open a door. “Here. But we can’t go together, it’s tiny. I’ll go first, but I’ll be quick -”

“You’re never quick.” He nudged her from behind, pushing her into the bathroom and followed her in, locking the door. She flicked on the shower then turned around, eyeing him over as she waited for it to get warm, arms crossed over her chest.

“You’re staring.” He accused, smirking.

“I can’t believe you’re still hard.” She mumbled, taking a mental picture.

“Well, I - can you blame me!” He blushed as he gestured at her body, hand going to wrap around his cock. “I’ll get rid of it, just let me -”

Sophie watched with her mouth slightly parted for a moment, acutely aware of the tiny bathroom beginning to fog up and the sight in front of her, unsure if she was lightheaded because she hadn’t eaten yet or - well - because of him. “Let me.”

He looked up at her with darkened eyes and a teasing smile, still slowly stroking himself. “Think you can handle it?”

She sunk to her knees in front of him, sliding her hands up his thighs. “Shut up or I’ll bite,” she threatened.

He laughed, but it turned into a choked groan when she took him completely in her mouth, not wasting any time. “Soph - fuck, I’m seriously not going to -”

She bobbed up and down on him, steadily increasing her pace as her hand worked at the base of his cock, the other hand digging her nails into the back of his thigh. “S’okay.”

“I can - d’you want to -” he struggled to think of a complete sentence, wrapping his hand in her hair and tucking it aside.

“Hm?” She pulled off him to ask, looking up at him through her lashes.

“Don’t wanna - your mouth -” Rafe panted out, leaning back against the bathroom counter for some stability, weak-kneed.

“Oh.” She put her mouth all the way down on him, holding him for a second before pulling away with a shy grin. “Um...you can cum on me. If you want.”

“Fucking - you’re serious?” His eyes went as wide as saucers and she could tell he was seconds away from the edge as she nodded, trying not to look too eager to please. “Gonna shower anyway.”

“Angel. Fucking angel.” He muttered, only pumping himself a few times before coming on her chest, groaning probably a little too loud. She grinned at the way he went slack and reached to pull her up and bring her close immediately, always cuddly post-orgasm.

Sophie dipped her finger in the mess across her skin and licked it with a smirk, holding back a laugh as his jaw nearly dropped open. “Mm. Breakfast.”

“Oh my god.” He leaned down and kissed her, hard. “Careful, or I’ll have an issue again.”

She laughed and shoved him away, pulling back the shower curtain. “We’re so fucked. So late.”

“I am.” He agreed, trying to step in behind her and wedge himself into the tight space. When she poured soap into her hands and began to wash her chest, he shook his head quickly and stepped back, snapping the shower curtain shut. “I’m gonna wait.”

“Rafe, we can just hurry - I’ll wash your hair -” She protested, reaching her soapy hand out for him.

“No, you’re the problem here.” He laughed, a little strained. “Do your thing and I’ll hop in after, you’ll have to get clothes and whatever anyways. Pull something out of my suitcase for me to wear?”

“You can’t get your mind off sex for three minutes to shower?” She teased.

“I’ve literally been waiting three months for this again. No I cannot.” He smirked, leaning back against the bathroom wall with his arms crossed as he waited.

“I’ve done just fine.” She told him, as if to prove a point. He scoffed. “I think you’re forgetting about when drunk you left me a voicemail about how you missed me so bad, then a separate one - and I repeat - for my dick, because you missed it too.”

“Shut up.” She finished her shower and stepped out, dripping wet, and Rafe had to shut his eyes while he got in, making a show out of looking away. “Tease.”

“Would never tease. Ever.” She grinned and pulled the curtain back just enough to stick her head in, and maybe ogle for a few seconds. “You have two minutes.”

By the time they were out of the shower, dressed, on the metro and walking into the restaurant, it was obvious what they had gotten up to as she met up with a big group of her friends. Luckily, as per the Spanish way, half of them were just as late as Rafe and Sophie and a few didn’t even show til after they arrived.

One of Sophie’s roommates, Isobel, grinned knowingly as Sophie slid into the seat next to her, Rafe in tow. “Metro on strike?”

Sophie suppressed a grin, squeezing Rafe’s hand under the table. “You know it.”

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#rafe cameron #rafe cameron fanfic #outer banks #outer banks fanfic #obx #obx fanfic #college rafe #frat rafe #rafe x sophie #mine #rafe cameron smut #obx smut

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razorblade180-heated · 3 years

Text

[Smut!]

Midday on Menagerie, Ilia was getting ready for her favorite place, bed! Community service for past mistakes meant getting up so early, so while others days were revving up, hers was coasting down. The young faunus made her way up her massive tree house and walked through the front door. Immediately her shoes came off and postured slouched as she made her way to her couch.

“One more day over with. At least I got lucky and got cargo moving instead of trash.” Her body sunk into the sofa. The peaceful mood of her home wrapped Ilia in comfort. From the gentle sunlight, cool breeze, the delicious smell of pasta coming from the pot simmering on her stove, even the way Sun wore a ridiculous apron as he-

“Wait, what the!?” Her body sprung up onto her feet. “Sun!?”

“Oh hey. Took you long enough.” He smiled, watching Ilia’s face go through a vast amount of expressions before settling on a smile. She gave him a running hug filled with surprised laughter. “Aw, hehe, glad you’re as happy as me.”

“I didn’t know you were visiting. Wait, did I forget something!? Did we plan anything!?”

“No. This is a bonafide surprise from yours truly. How was your day?”

“Same shit different day. Only today is now better than most.” She placed her head against him. “Not that I don’t appreciate the smell of pasta, but I already ate before I got home.”

“That’s fine. Consider it left overs. At least now you have more than takeout for a while.”

“Takeout is perfectly fine. I’m gonna change into something comfortable. I expect no more lifestyle judgments when I get back.” Ilia took off down the hall and into her room.

“What’s the point of a dirty clothes hamper if you put the clothes next to it?” Sun snickered, waiting for Ilia’s face to pop out of the doorway. He wasn’t disappointed for a second to see her squint at him.

“Don’t enter my room like you own the place!”

xxxxx

Time seemed to go by a little quicker when Sun was around. Afternoon had arrived in the blink of an eye with the sky turning shades of red and purple. Ilia had made herself cozy yet again on the couch but with Sun acting as a big spoon. The white t-shirt and light blue basketball shorts she had chosen made cooling of all the more easier. This moment should’ve been perfect, yet… it wasn’t. Sun never did anything without a reason. As much as she enjoyed this surprise visit, something had to have sparked it. Ilia turned her body towards him and studied his gaze before it was directed towards her with curiosity.

“What’s up?”

“You tell me. You look a little tired, Sun. What’s eating at you?”

“Me? Nothing. The flight was longer than usual so I guess I’m a bit tired-” Her right hand held his face. Sun looked into grayish-blue eyes and found himself sighing.

“Hey, aren’t you the one always telling me to lean on you when I need to? Don’t try the cool guy act. You can lean on me too.”

“I know. I… it’s hard to explain.”

“Was it a fight with Neptune?”

“No, nothing like that. Honestly, I just really, really missed you is all.” His arm draped over her back, keeping her close. “I know it sounds a bit silly but lately I keep missing you.”

Now that was a shock. “Missing me?” Ilia blushed watching Sun rest his head on her while his arms hugged her body gently, “S-Sun?”

“Outside of meetings twice a month and calls, I go about my normal routine. Missions, hangout spots, it all feels like a loop recently; and all I want is the thing that makes it all worthwhile. The time with you just never feels like enough. My head has tons of things to think about but it wants you to be a part of all of them.”

“What’s so silly about that?” Ilia pulled Sun away to get a good look at his face. There was sadness, a longing in his eyes. One she easily recognized. She pressed her forehead against his. The warmth of his body swallowed her whole, drawing her in and erasing the loneliness she saw in him. “I miss you everyday, but it makes these moments all the more worthwhile.”

The typically cheerful blonde remained silent, basking in this moment. Without words, they both leaned in gently to kiss briefly. Seconds after, they found themselves once again getting lost in each other’s looks; the mutual feelings making Sun give Ilia a longer, more passionate kiss that she gladly melted into. His lips alone made her heart flutter. Sun really missed her, more than ever. The shift in his weight turned them over until Ilia was under him. Her hands came around his back and her voice escaped from her the longer their kiss. She had no intent on denying him, but even so, the feeling of Sun tenderly nipping her bottom lip and playing with her tongue made her body feel weak with pleasure.

“He’s so…vulnerable.” She felt his hands grab her legs, propping them up on either side of his body before sliding them up under the shorts, gripping her hips the way she liked. This desire he had for her filled Ilia’s thoughts. “Maybe, I’m not loving him enough? No, stop that. You know he doesn’t think that. Still…” Their lips found a moment to separate for a moment of air. “Sun, am I loving you right?” Her voice was soft and a bit pleading from all the kissing.

Sun gave a soft smile. His hand ran through her long brown hair as he kissed her forehead. “Your love is perfect. It’s why I want more. Ilia, I want to be with you more. I want to love you more. Everything about you, I just…” his thumb traced over her lips, “want more.” And so he went for it. Sun continued to kiss the woman who stole his mind and claimed his heart. He felt her fingers grip his short and tug it until it fell off his shoulders. Sun found the patience to stop again in order to remove it altogether. Not that it took long.

Ilia in her flustered state took the break as a moment to calm her beating heart. She slipped out of her t-shirt no problem and let out a yelp feeling Sun raise her hips. He pulled down her shorts, tossing them on the ground and leaving her in dark blue lace panties. Ilia felt her heart rate quicken the moment his fingers slid in between her labia.

“Ahn~”

“You’re already this wet. Not to mention wearing something like this is never your first pick.” Sun leaned closer over Ilia, who’s eyes fought desperately not to close. “Are you wearing these for me?”

“You…ah- know the answer, jerk.” She moaned, arms holding him close again. A sudden burst of pleasure and slight pain hit her neck as she felt his teeth gently bite the sensitive flesh, marking her. The heat of his mouth on her was second only to his tender rubbing along her slit. Her hips raised instinctively and Sun took the opportunity to pull her panties away. Ilia was so caught up in all these little actions that her body tensed the moment she felt the head of his aching dick press at her entrance.

Her face may have been hidden over his shoulder, but it made hearing her contained whimpers all the sweeter as rolled his hips forward; opening her up agonizingly slow as he was greeted with warmth and her walls pulling him in until Sun completely buried himself inside her. Sun didn’t even have the strength to pull more than halfway out before sinking back into her again and again, picking up the pace after each thrust. Ilia’s whimpers grew louder until she began panting.

Sounding needy was always what Ilia tried avoiding, but that became increasingly difficult when there was someone who didn’t think twice about expressing theirs. The sound of Sun’s lustful groans and erotic breathes hitting her ear only turned Ilia on. How he was able to be so shameless about it was beyond her, but she never wanted him to stop. There wasn’t a part of him that didn’t feel like flames. The body pressed against her, the lips that devoured her neck, and most of all, the rock hard length that filled her up to the point her waist felt numbingly good. Somehow…it just kept digging into the exact same spot.

“W..Wait! I’m…ngh~” her toes curled against the couch. Despite her attempt at words, her body didn’t want him to stop. Sun finally pulled away from her neck but went straight back to assaulting her mouth. Her entire body shivered from him dominating and stealing her tongue from her control. If that wasn’t bad enough, Sun took liberty of pulling her left arm off his body,taking her hand in his to hold against the couch. Ilia could no longer put up a fight. Her body all but melted into the couch as her heart danced and voice let out a muffled cry while her legs trembled throughout her orgasm.

Sun winced, his girlfriend squeezing him in every way. He stood on his knees to give her space to actually breathe, her chest constantly falling from all their kissing. The freckles on her face were red and though she didn’t look at him, she refused to let go of his hand. Not that he wanted her to. Sun groaned, pulling out of her, his own climax still far away. That was fine, because he wasn’t done seeing her like this.

Ilia’s head was slowly getting itself together. They’ve had memorable times but that felt good. Like…drunk sex kind of good. Her mind barely registered watching Sun reach down for his jeans and pulled out a condom he swiftly tore open with his teeth before rolling it over his cock. Ilia couldn’t comprehend fast enough on what went through her own mind let alone Sun’s as he grinded against her sensitive pussy. That was…until he slowly dragged it down a bit lower than expected. The haze Ilia experienced cleared the same time her heart skipped a beat and blush overtook her face. “Wait are you-” was all she got out before her voice gave out, her lungs exhaling everything in her as she felt her ass accommodate Sun’s throbbing cock. A guttural moan rose from the base of her throat. Ilia’s eyes shut tightly and her back arched, unable to fall back down to the couch thanks to Sun holding it in place.

He managed to free his other hand to grab her waist in order to themselves, then, he fucked her just how she loved it. Unlike with her pussy, Ilia wanted it rough and hard here; her dirty little secret that she hated to admit. Sun’s moans were drowned out by Ilia’s cry of ecstasy. “There’s those moans I love.” Ilia did nothing to stop them but that didn’t stop her from placing her arms over her eyes while her entire body went pink with bright red freckles.

She’ll kill him. This time for sure she’ll do it! There wasn’t a nerve in her body that wasn’t feeling him ravage her completely, sending her into bliss too strong for her to think. Sun was giving it to her without a second thought. His hips smacked against her ass. The hand on her hip went down to her leg and raised it until her foot was over his shoulder. It wasn’t too much of a change until he leaned forward ever so slightly and plunged deeper.

“AHHH! FUCK~ SUN!” Tears welled up. Ilia turned her head towards the couch pillow and bit down, hard.

Sun listened to all of her gasps, moans, and whimpers; each one spurring him on while he watched her pussy flow like a river. He wasn’t even touching it anymore but it twitched violently with each thrust he gave. He dared to press a single finger into the nectar and feel it grip him while her hips began shaking. “That’s right! Cum whenever you’re ready. I’m so close~” he sped up again.

Ilia felt herself get dizzy, the haze returning stronger than before until everything went white. Any feeling of embarrassment was pushed away, and Ilia screamed into the pillow like it actually did anything. She felt the condom inside her begin to swell with Sun’s cum that felt hot and heavy enough to burst right through it. Thankfully it appeared to stay contained. Ilia’s body went limp, exhausted from her second orgasm. A small moan left her lips feeling Sun leave her body as he placed her softly on the couch. Ilia couldn’t decide what was worse. The fact that yelling at him would hurt right now, or the fact she didn’t want to yell at him at all. She finally looked at him, eyes half opened and still riding her high. She saw just how sweaty he had gotten and the used condom already safely put aside for the moment. He was still right in between her legs with a gaze that saw only her.

“Ilia…”

“I know.” She cooed. His eyes said it all, and she knew hers did the same. Her arms reached out, inviting him back into her grasp. “I want more of you too.” This time their kisses were less hungry but still every bit as passionate. Right down to the way she moaned his name as Sun slid right back inside her soaked core. Ilia could feel every inch of him glide effortlessly through her in great detail. Somehow he felt bigger than earlier.

“Are you okay?” He could feel her quiver in his arms.

“I’m good. Not so fast this time okay? I want this to last.” It was the truth, but Ilia couldn’t bring herself to mention that she wouldn’t be able to withstand another intense round. It was already challenging to not cum on the spot. Sun listened to her request, rolling his hips into her like waves swaying a boat. “Yeah. Like that.” She gasped, hugging him. Her legs looked locked around his lower back before getting washed away in the moment. She felt her lips graze his again multiple times, continuously demanding attention.

Sun laughed as he felt Ilia’s hands comb through his hair. The moans she tried hiding were all to clear for him. As was her trembling pussy. With each move, he felt her clench tighter and kiss a little deeper. “Cumming again?” Just asking made Ilia hold on tightly. “I’m close too. Cum if you need to.”

“No.” Her voice whined, happily tired. “I wanna cum with you.” The weight of his cock pressed straight down into her, throbbing immensely in a way that made her overwhelmingly weak. His raspy breathing hit her ear.

“I love you.” Sun gasped, his limit finally reached. He pressed his hips right up against Ilia’s, burying his cock in her as he came. Ilia’s limps clung to him for dear life. The way he felt her insides wring him out as Ilia let out a voiceless cry sent him completely over the edge.

Ilia desperately wanted to return his words but try as she might, all she could was hold him close while her body let her orgasm rush through her body, and even down Sun’s shaft. She could still feel it giving her everything it had until it finally stopped, softening enough to slip out of her. Her legs finally freed her blonde, but his body remained on her; Sun’s head on her chest while he still groaned from the pleasure. He didn’t meet her gaze but his arms still held her close. Ilia could see his ears burn bright red. Giggling to herself, Ilia rubbed the top of his head. Now he was embarrassed?

“Sigh, so needy, but who am I to talk?” Ilia put her other arm around him. “I love you too.”

xxxxx

After a well deserved and comforting moment in her arms, Sun sat at the dinner table across from her. A little embarrassed from earlier, he wanted to talk to Ilia but the girl silently stuffed her face with pasta and avoided his gaze. He wanted to believe his cooking was just that good but the fact her skin was still pink gave him other thoughts.

“Maybe I went a little overboard this time?” Watching her flustered face pout from his actions was always cute, but he did feel a little guilty. After all…he did go for all of her this time around. “Ummm.” He didn’t know what to say.

Ilia traced her fork around the plate. By no means was she upset at him. It was just hard to say anything when what happened was on repeat in her head. For both their sakes she worked up the will to speak. “Two weeks.”

“Huh?” Sun watched Ilia’s cheeks get redder. “Two weeks?”

“Yeah. That’s how long I have left until my community service is officially down. So….maybe we should celebrate? A proper vacation, just you and me.” Her eyes finally met his, “I want it too ya know? Being with you more I mean. I…can’t think of anything better; coming home to see you here made me really happy. So let’s plan a long vacation together.”

Sun got up from his seat and walked over to her. Ilia could see the joy in his eyes and the gentle smile on his face made her lips curl up. She closed eyes, already knowing he was going to kiss her. It was just as lovely as all the others that came before and would be as incredible as the ones bound to come after. She opened her eyes to look up at him, his forehead against hers.

“Let’s do it.” He cuffed the side of her face, watching her lean into it. “Ilia?”

“Hmmm?”

“I don’t think I can let you sleep tonight.”

Honestly, what was she going to do with him? It was like his love was spilling over, and so was hers.

“Okay❤️”

#rwby sunshower #sun wukong #sun x ilia #ilia amitola #demi ilia #rwby sunspots #rwby #rwby ships

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abbysfrenchbraid · 3 years

Note

hi! i love all of your writing, especially your abby fanfics. i know you’re in the middle of your eivor series right now, so pls disregard if you don’t feel like writing this request or don’t want to write for abby, but i was wondering if you could maybe write a hurt/comfort type imagine where abby either comforts the reader when they’re sad or after they have a nightmare. i get really frequent nightmares and love to read fanfics like this but totally understand if you’re not into the idea. all the love and i hope you’re doing well; merry christmas if you celebrate!

so this is half a year late, but I finally have a little more time to go through my requests so here it is! this is also the first time I've actively avoided gendering the reader as I've gotten a few requests for a nonbinary or genderfluid reader. This is not a cop-out on that, I definitely want to write an explicitly nb reader but I figured this would make the reading experience better for quite a few people!

Summary: The reader has recently lost a family member and stranded with the WLF. They struggle with frequent panic attacks and nightmares. Abby notices and tries to take care of them.

CW for loss of a family member (sibling), death and grief, heavy trauma, panic attacks, anxiety, nightmares, and struggling to breathe. The nightmares are also fairly violent and creepy so please watch out for yourselves and only read this if you're in a good state of mind <3

I've Got You

The truck rattled as Leah drove it up the road to the WLF stadium. It had been a particularly rough day on patrol. You and the other wolf had run into a group of freshly infected that seemed to have been three families once. The children had been the worst. The youngest had probably been about ten years old before she had turned, her eyes bright blue and her blonde curls matted with dried blood. You had taken care of them all, of course you had. But it had been horrible. You folded your hands in your lap to keep them from shaking.

You had joined the WLF a few months ago after losing your team and your little sister in a clicker-infested cellar you had set up camp in. It had been so fucking stupid, so careless. But everyone had been tired, you hadn’t seen any infected in days, and so only one of you had kept watch. He barely had time to scream before the clicker had ripped out his throat. It had been chaos, madness, everyone scrambling to escape into the network of damp corridors and storage rooms, more and more clickers being drawn to you by the noise.

Leah raised her hand at the armed guards at the gate and they opened for your truck. The sun was setting behind you and most people were inside the stadium now, eating or spending time with friends. Both of you were quiet. Leah’s legs were covered in slowly darkening blood and the smell was nauseating. The tall wolf pulled the truck into its designated spot and took a deep breath.

“Y/N?” You looked up at her. The circles under her eyes could compete with yours, but her face was still as kind as ever.

“Yeah?”

“You take care of yourself today. Take a long shower, get something to eat. I’ll let Martha know to give you a double portion for dinner.”

You smiled faintly at her. This was how it was here. All the wolves had seen terrible things and probably done even worse. They all chose to let it out in training and then leave it behind them. No sense in holding on. You nodded.

“Thanks, Lee. See you in the gym tomorrow.”

The brunette grinned and patted your thigh.

“6 am sharp!” She jumped out of the car and gave back the keys at the checkpoint, then she vanished inside the stadium.

You stayed in your seat. Your fingers had cramped up and you were scared to unfold them, scared you would never be able to stop them from shaking again.

Sierra had held your hand all the way, not letting go as you dragged her through the darkness, fought off four infected, stumbled up stairs you had not come down on, and found yourself in a ravaged theater. You had run all night and only stopped when you were unable to go a single step further. When you had found a small pawnshop that you could lock up safely, you had made a bed of your jacket and a moth-eaten blanket from the theater. Sierra had started to cry. You would never forget the way dread had started to creep into your limbs, seeping into your skin and stretching dark tendrils toward your throat. You had rolled up Sierra’s sleeve and there it was. A relatively small mark, just the puncture wounds from two teeth turned into mean scratches as Sierra had pulled her arm from the jaws of a clicker and kept on running. But it had already begun to fester, the edges of the wound an angry red contrasting the white blisters forming around the site. It felt like the ground had been pulled from below your feet. You fell and fell, unable to speak, to do anything, just staring at the thing that meant the end of the world. The end of your baby sister.

A shout caught your attention - another car had returned to the stadium and was pulling into a spot a few paces away. It was Manny and Abby, everyone’s favorite duo. The attractive joker and the stoic warrior. They were among Leah’s best friends and she had introduced them to you a while ago, all of them welcoming you warmly. It had been strange, being part of a group again, a team. Your heart was still too sore.

So you had quietly pulled yourself out of most of the group evenings, the film nights and game nights and arm wrestling tournaments and what else there was to do. Manny had tried his luck flirting with you a few times and one time you had even joined him for a dance, but after realizing he wouldn’t land with you he had respectfully backed off and now treated you more like a little sister. Mel and Owen had been nice, too, both very secluded when they turned up together, but Owen was funny and enthusiastic and always yelled your name across the cafeteria or the training course when he saw you. He was one of the few people who could make you laugh no matter how hard you tried not to.

Nora was a whirlwind, the smartest person you had ever known and unfaltering no matter what the universe threw at her feet. She liked poetry and hard rock music, big men and even bigger women. You had often wondered whether she and Abby had ever hooked up. But you weren’t sure of anything concerning Abby. Always the stony face, the impenetrable wall, the arms-length smile and polite nod in the hallway. It could be infuriating at times. Especially because despite it all, against all your better judgment, you could feel yourself growing more and more interested in her, constantly looking for her in a crowd and sneaking side glances to see if she was listening to you or laughing at the same things.

The car doors banged and the sound echoed through the small space. Manny was laughing about something Abby had said and walked with a bounce in his step as he approached the counter to hand back his keys. Abby looked like she always did, khaki cargo pants and a black cutoff, her green backpack slung over one muscular shoulder. Some strands of hair had escaped her braid and curled up at the back of her neck, slightly damp from her sweat in the hot summer air. Trying to calm down and distract yourself, you let your gaze wander up her strong build, freckled biceps flexing as she crossed her arms in front of her chest. And then she looked straight at you. You didn’t move, stayed frozen as you had for the last few minutes, wishing you were invisible.

Your face felt hot and suddenly there were tears blurring your vision - what was happening?! Your knees started shaking as well, bouncing uncontrollably as your nails dug into the backs of your hands. Your throat was closing up and your bottom lip was quivering. All you saw were specks of grey and green, all you felt was your body resisting every command and rebelling against you, trying to hold you in place and suffocate you silently.

Suddenly the door opened beside you and a soft, deep voice said your name. You tried to blink the tears away but your vision wouldn’t clear up, panic blinding you further. You began shaking your head as your chest convulsed in a desperate attempt to draw breath.

“Fuck, Y/N, okay.” Abby’s voice was determined and suddenly her hands were on your wrists. Her skin was warm and dry, her grip firm. She softly shook your clasped hands and somehow moved so her face was in front of yours, a mess of green and brown and there, soft pink where her lips moved, speaking quietly and telling you to breathe with her. One hand stayed on your wrist and her thumb massaged the cramped up muscle there, digging painfully into your flesh but pulling you back to her slowly. One hand came up closer and a calloused thumb brushed the tears from your cheek before her hand landed on your shoulder, fingers pressing into your upper back.

“Hey, look at me, look at me, Y/N, you’re okay, I’m here. Can you try to breathe in with me on three? Just stop fighting for a moment, count with me and then we’ll breathe in together. Okay? One.”

You tried to sit up straighter and stop the erratic twitching of your chest, still choking on your breath as you waited for her commando.

“Two. Three.”

Her hand pressed between your shoulders from behind and suddenly you could breathe again, a loud gasp that turned into quiet sobs as you fought to release the air from your lungs before breathing in again.

“There we go, you’re doing so good,” Abby’s hand was on your cheek again, “so good, Y/N, breathe with me, that’s right.”

Your vision slowly returned to you now, though it was still distorted by tears. Abby had half-climbed into the truck, one foot between yours and one dangling out of the open door, her weight held up only by her right leg as she pressed her back against the dashboard. A wet laugh escaped you. Abby shot you a confused look, paired with the hint of a relieved smile.

“What?”

“You’re gonna get a cramp as well,” you rasped, “if you keep that up.”

You slid further to the inside of the broad seat, making room for Abby next to you. She grinned and sat down, one hand still on your wrist. Her eyes went down to your trembling hands, your knuckles still white from your iron grip.

“Okay, let’s take care of your hands, hm?”

Her fingers wandered softly over yours, then she rested one hand over your tangled fingers and pushed her other thumb between your palms, gently loosening your hold. She pulled back each finger slowly, starting with your thumbs and stroking each one as they relaxed. Finally, your shaking hands lay freely on your thighs.

“You’re doing so well, Y/N, don’t worry.” She took one of your hands in her lap and started massaging the inside of your palm. “Wanna tell me what got you there?”

You sighed, breath still shaky with tears.

“Um.. We ran into infected today. Runners. Families, it seemed.”

Abby sucked in a breath and gave you back your hand before taking the other and starting the same gentle procedure.

“Those are the hardest. Kids?”

You nodded and Abby made a soft noise. You took another rattling breath.

“I… I lost my little sister. Back when… before I came to you.”

Her head shot up and she stared at you, shock and sympathy playing over her features.

“Fuck, Y/N, you never said…”

“I know.” You lowered your head.

When you had stumbled out of the woods around the WLF stadium and begged them to let you in, they had stripped you and searched you before bringing you to their leader. After hours of questioning to make sure you weren’t a spy for any other group, he knew about your team and everything you had done in the last three years, but you hadn’t mentioned Sierra once. It wouldn’t change anything anyway. They had brought you to Nora who had patched you up, examined you, and fed you before showing you to your new room. It was a small closet on the base level of the stadium, with only a tiny window letting in some light. You were thankful for a roof over your head and the armed posts surrounding the stadium.

“I didn’t want to talk about her. I didn’t lie to Isaac or betray you. It wasn't anyone's business.” You gave Abby a fierce look. Nothing would change your mind about this. She just nodded, her eyes wide. You sighed, brushing your hands against each other.

“She was bitten. I see her every time I close my eyes. It wasn’t fair.” You dropped your hands into your lap. “I just don’t… I can’t -”

Abby’s hand was on yours again, her fingers sliding between yours.

“Hey. I won’t tell anyone. But I’m here, okay? If you want to talk.”

You scoffed.

“No one ever talks here. You’re all made of stone.”

Abby contemplated this for a few seconds, then she squeezed your hand.

“My dad was murdered a few years ago. Almost all of our families are dead.” Now it was your turn to be shocked. Fuck. You had been so insensitive. “By us, I mean Owen, Nora, Jordan, and me. Owen lost his parents to infected and his brothers to the scars just last year.”

Abby leaned back and stared out of the windshield, the garage now dark except for a few small lamps at the exits.

“Fuck, I’m so sorry. Of course, I’m in no place to tell you how to deal with it.”

“No, it’s fine. You’re right, you know. We don’t talk about those things.” She looked at you, her gaze so intense you almost pulled back. “Would you like to?”

You forced yourself to hold her gaze.

“I think I would. Now that it’s all… further away.”

Abby nodded, squeezing your hand again.

“Then we’ll talk. You can tell me all about your sister. And… I haven’t talked about my dad in a long time. I think I’d like to tell you about him, too. He was great.”

A small smile played around her lips and you felt a rush of gratitude for this wonderful woman. You could practically see the memories playing through her head behind those green eyes. She blinked, looking back at you.

“Wanna get something to eat? You must be starving. I know I am.”

“Sure.” You shared another smile and exited the car together, fingers still intertwined as you crossed the lot and Abby held the door open for you.

Dinner was already over, but Leah had kept her word and the elder woman at the counter gave you both gigantic bowls of beef stew with thick, coarse bread. You told Abby about your patrol that day and she hummed sympathetically. She knew what it felt like to deal with infected children. After a while, the door to the cafeteria flew open and Manny came in, sleek black hair still wet from a shower. He grinned brightly as he made his way over to you and sat next to you on the metal bench.

“You coming along tonight?” he asked you, drumming his fingers on the table. You raised your eyebrows.

“What’s happening tonight?”

He tutted at Abby and gave her a theatrical frown.

“You didn’t invite Y/N? It’s Mel’s birthday! Owen got his hands on some prime hooch. You celebrating with us?”

You smiled at your plate. The last thing you needed was to get wasted and completely lose any shred of sanity you had left.

“Thanks, but I don’t think I’ll join you. I still haven’t showered and I had a terrible day. I’m just gonna read a bit and pass out, I think.” You gave him an apologetic shrug.

“Oh, come on, Y/N. Read and pass out? It’s a special occasion! You sure?”

“Yeah, but really, thank you for inviting me. Maybe next time.”

He sighed heavily, then he clapped his hand on the table and stood up.

“Abby, you need to get moving, girl. We’re meeting in 20 and you stink.”

Abby just raised her eyebrows and shook her head, finishing her stew. Manny's laughter echoed through the empty room as he left.

“Do I really smell that bad?” There was a twinkle in her eye, a conspiratorial smile on her lips. You smiled back.

“Not at all. He probably smelled me.” You grabbed her empty bowl and placed it in yours. “Go have fun, I’ll clean this up. See you at training.”

Abby cocked her head to the side, seemingly not sure what to do. You gave her another encouraging smile.

“Really, I’m fine. Thank you for taking care of me, I owe you. Go celebrate!”

The tall blonde stood up slowly. She still seemed hesitant.

“I’ll come check on you later if that’s okay. And you can always come over and talk to me if something’s wrong, alright?”

Your chest felt tight all of a sudden, but not in the way it had earlier. It was the feeling of reaching for something knowing you’d never have it, of wanting something so bad and only being able to admire it from a distance. It felt like being homesick. You thought of Sierra again and how she had been your home, the only anchor in your life. Fuck, not now.

You shook your head as if to get rid of your thoughts and gave Abby a brave smile.

“Okay. But I’ll be fine. Promise.”

“Okay. See you later, then.”

“See you.”

Abby gave you a last look over her shoulder before exiting the cafeteria and you made your way over to the kitchen. The cooks had already left and a lanky red-haired boy was the only one still there, washing dishes and listening to music on an mp3 player. The metallic sound in his headphones echoed through the peacefully quiet kitchen. He almost jumped two feet into the air when you approached from the side, bowls in your hand.

“Fuck, you scared the shit out of me! Jesus Christ.” He pressed a wet hand to his chest, the suds leaving a dark print on his shirt.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t know how not to scare you, music and all. Sorry.” Both of you had to laugh and he held his dripping hands out for your dirty bowls.

“Don’t worry, I just wasn’t expecting anyone this late. You just come back from a mission?”

“Just a patrol run.”

You leaned against the counter and watched him clean the dishes.

“Anything exciting happen?” His eyes were bright and excited. He was even younger than he had looked at first, he couldn’t be older than 15. “My brother is on patrols too. Maybe you know him, his name is Danny.”

You crossed your arms and tried to remember the face that matched that name. Danny had been on patrol with Owen for a while when you had first arrived, but now he was stationed on some outpost and you hadn’t seen him for a long time.

“Yeah, I think I do. He’s not here at the moment, right?”

“He’s at the Serevena Hotel. I may be able to visit him there soon, depending on how my training goes.”

You raised your eyebrows.

“Training to be a soldier?”

“Of course.” He stood up straight. “I want to do my part, protect our people. Fight the scars.”

You didn’t really know how to respond to that. Even though you were thankful the WLF had taken you in and even though you had also participated in rigorous training from the first day on, soon being cleared for missions, you didn’t really have the same loyalty and faith for the organization. The seraphites were your enemies now, of course, but they were just people. You all were. Sometimes you wondered how it could have come to this - so few people left on this earth and here you were, slaughtering each other.

“I hope you can visit your brother soon.” You let your arms fall to the side and turned to leave. “Thanks for the dishes.”

“No problem,” he mumbled, putting his headphones back in.

You were in no rush to get to your room and so you took a few detours, passing the gym which was filled with quite a lot of people getting their training in after work. You looked into empty classrooms, trying to decipher what was written on the board. Would Sierra have studied here? Sat in the front, eager to learn the things you hadn’t been able to teach her? What if you had come here earlier, before it all happened? Could they have protected her better than you had? She would probably be walking next to you now, telling you about her day.

When you finally arrived at your room, you just quickly grabbed a towel, a clean shirt, and some shorts and headed for the showers. The hot water seemed to help somewhat. You wondered what Abby was up to right now. Probably getting drunk and having fun. Was she the type of person who danced? You had never seen her dance before. Maybe Nora would persuade her. There it was again, that heavy, pulling feeling. You turned the water off, got dressed, and went straight to bed. Enough heartache for one day.

You woke up confused, not knowing where you were at first. It was pitch black and there was some kind of noise outside. You reached around you and finally found the flashlight next to your pillow, turning it on and trying to wipe the sleep from your eyes. What was going on?

It had to be after midnight. The lights in the stadium were only on from 5.30 am to 10 pm in order to save power. You untangled yourself from your sheets and got on your feet, swaying a little. There it was again, that strange scratching noise accompanied by a quiet mumbling sound. It wasn’t directly at your door but seemed to come from further down the corridor. There were a few other people living down here in storerooms and sectioned hallways.

Yawning, you walked to the door and opened it ever so slightly, pressing the flashlight to your thigh in order to keep the light down at first. You couldn’t see anything, so you waved the flashlight around the corridor. Your stomach dropped.

At the far end of the hallway, a small figure stood in front of one of the doors, trying to open it to no avail. Small hands scratched at the wood, quiet brabbling reached your ears. This was wrong. Very wrong. The figure hadn’t noticed the light yet. It went on to the next door, trying the door handle and whining in frustration when it didn’t open.

Why didn’t the people inside wake up from the noise? You stood frozen as the figure tried the next door. It was a child, dressed in dotted pyjamas. Its blonde hair was shoulder length and tangled in knots. You slowly pushed your door open wider in order to step out into the corridor. Suddenly, the hinges squeaked and the sound echoed through the hallway.

The child slowly turned toward you. Blood was dripping from its mouth, its eyes were cold. It took a step toward you. You looked down and realized you were holding a gun. Oh. Right. Infected. You were supposed to shoot them.

As the kid made another strange brabbling sound, more blood ran down the front of the cotton pyjama shirt. You raised the flashlight with shaky fingers and aimed it right at the child's face.

Your blood froze in your veins. No. This couldn’t be. You had taken care of her, you had made sure she wouldn’t… wouldn’t turn into one of these… No, you had given her a peaceful ending.

“Sierra.” Your voice was raspy, quiet with terror. “Sierra, what are you doing here, baby?”

She growled. A horribly wrong sound, coming from someone so small and so lovely. Only she wasn’t lovely anymore. She was sick. Infected.

“Sierra!” You spoke louder now, your voice pleading. “Baby, please don’t do that. It’s me, see?” You raised the flashlight to light your own face for a moment. When you put it back on her, she had stopped walking. Her face was a mask of ice-cold fury. When she spoke, her voice rattled like nails in a metal box, rough like chalk on board.

“Y/N… Why?

You sank to your knees.

“Oh baby, I’m so sorry, I didn’t know what to do. I’m so sorry Siri, I was so helpless. I didn’t know, I didn’t…”

“You… killed… me.”

She was getting dangerously close now and all of a sudden you could smell her, too. Foul, dead, vile. The smell of sickness and decay. You raised the gun, a war raging between your head and your heart.

“Sierra, stop. Stop.” Tears were streaming down your face. “Please stop, Siri. Don’t come any closer. Stop, stop! Please stop!”

Your little baby sister was so close that you could have reached out a hand and brushed through her hair. You stood up and took a step back.

“I’m gonna have to shoot you if you don’t step back. You’re infected, Siri. I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but you can’t, please Sierra. Don’t, please don’t…”

She hissed at you and lurched forward. A shot rang through the air and the girl fell to the floor right before you, her tiny body at your feet, blood slowly pooling around her head. You dropped the gun and it clattered on the concrete floor. You clapped your hands to your mouth and screamed into your palms, crying out again and again, trying to gasp for air. It felt like your heart was being torn in two.

Suddenly there was a hand on your shoulder. You whirled around, but there was only darkness. You let yourself fall to the floor and kept weeping into your hands. Someone gripped your wrists and shook them slightly. You opened your eyes.

Abby was sitting on the side of your bed, her face right above yours and full of worry. You shook your head, frantically looking around your room for any kind of danger. The room was almost dark, light just seeping through the crack under the door. It was still early in the night.

“Y/N? Hey, hey. You’re okay.” Abby slowly let go of your wrists. “You had a nightmare. You’re okay now, I’m here.”

You were still too terrified to speak, so you just scooted further to the side and grabbed Abby’s hand, giving her a pleading look. She understood immediately, kicking off her shoes and climbing into bed next to you, holding out her arm for you to crawl into. You pressed yourself to her side and rested your head on her chest, feeling yourself tremble in her arms. She just held you for a while, letting you listen to her heartbeat until your own body began to calm down.

“Hi,” you whispered into the dim room. Abby stroked your hair while she held you tightly.

“Hey there,” she mumbled back. “Feeling better?”

“Not really.” You looked up at her. She smelled faintly of alcohol and something sweet. “How was your party?”

The corner of her mouth twitched.

“It was absolute chaos. I had to escape from there before it could consume me. And I also had someone to check on.” She squeezed your shoulder. You cringed at the thought of her finding you like this, writhing and talking in your sleep, crying out or even fighting her without knowing who was in front of you. You had always had horrible nightmares and Sierra had taken the brunt of them, waking you countless nights and trying to stay brave when you yelled at her or shoved her away in the first moments of consciousness, not yet fully back in the real world. Now that she was gone, they were a hundred times worse. You pressed your forehead to Abby’s shoulder.

“Did I scream?”

“Not really. I just knocked a few times and then I heard you talking, and you sounded so panicked that I thought I should make sure… I’m sorry I just came in like that.”

You shook your head.

“No, don’t. Thank you for waking me. It was… God, I hate this.”

Abby’s fingers combed through your hair, massaging your scalp. It was heavenly.

“Does this happen a lot?”

You snorted involuntarily.

“Every night. Several times. I never sleep through and I never sleep enough.” You wiped a hand over your face. “Sorry, I know I’m not the only one and it could be worse. It’s just… hard.”

“Excuse me?” Abby’s tone made you look up at her. “You’re telling me you have several panic attacks in your sleep every night but it’s fine because others have nightmares, too?”

You frowned. Panic attacks? You’d never thought of it that way.

“Y/N, you’re allowed to complain. To me especially. Remember, we wanted to talk about our problems? Be open about all this?”

She was right. You pressed yourself closer to her.

“I guess, yeah. Thank you for… for being here.”

“Wanna tell me about your nightmare?”

You held onto Abby’s shirt, clenching the fabric in your fist as if she might be ripped from you at any moment.

“I don’t know… I mean, why not. Well…” How were you even supposed to explain all this? How would you ever talk about your sister without freaking out again?

Abby pressed a kiss to the top of your head and you felt the tension in your stomach dissolve. You took a deep breath.

“I can never tell I’m dreaming. This time I thought I heard something in the corridor and I went to see what it was. A little girl was scratching on doors, trying to get in. She looked like the… like one of the infected we ran into today. But I made a noise and when she turned around she was... She was -” You gasped for air, trying to keep your calm. Abby hummed softly, stroking your back and giving you time to think.

“She had the face of my sister. Sierra.” You hadn’t said her name out loud in so long, only in the nightmares. Maybe it was time to rid her name of that terror, that fear, and grant it the love and warmth it deserved. “Sierra was my little sister. We ran with a group the last few years, stayed with them after our mom died. But she was bitten and I had to… I had to let her go.” You swallowed hard. Abby’s thumb drew circles on your back.

“So in the dream… the girl turned around and she was her . And I didn’t know what to do. I begged her to stop, to not come any closer because she was infected, she was bleeding, and -” You drew in another breath and buried your face in Abby’s chest. “She asked me why I’d done it, why I had… and she kept coming and then she attacked me and I - I had to, I had to shoot her.”

Hot tears were burning in your eyes and your throat was impossibly tight again. Abby gently placed a hand on your cheek and turned your face up toward her.

“I’m not gonna tell you it was just a dream because I know it's more complicated than that. I get them, too, sometimes. But what I can tell you is that I’m here, that you’re safe now, that your sister is in a better place and that one day you will be able to speak about her without feeling like you’re falling apart.”

“You think so?”

“I’m sure of it. And now you're with me. We can heal together. I’m here, I’ll always be here for you, okay?”

You raised your head from her chest and turned a little in order to get face to face with her.

“Abby?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing this? Why now? I didn’t even think you liked me. You don’t have to take care of me.”

Abby’s features softened and she huffed out a silent laugh.

“I don’t know. I really… You were right when you said we keep everything to ourselves. But some of us do it more than others. And I guess I’m the worst when it comes to showing what I want.”

The sentence hung in the air for a moment. Abby took a deep breath.

“I like you, I really do. I just thought you needed more time. I know what it’s like to suffer and to feel like you can’t breathe. I wanted to give you space. But then I saw you in the car and I immediately knew what was happening. And I finally realized that I wouldn’t make things better by staying away.”

She held your gaze and you felt something shift between you. Her hand on your back came to a halt. You smiled softly.

“I always thought you didn’t find me interesting enough to talk to me. I was so jealous of the others for being this close to you and for making you laugh. I wanted that, too.”

“You’re the most interesting person that’s ever walked into this stadium,” Abby said softly. “God, I’m so sorry. I never wanted you to feel left out.”

You rested your head back on her shoulder.

“You made it up to me already. Really, you saved me today. Twice.”

Abby chuckled.

“Just wait until I have my next breakdown and then you can return the favor. Shouldn’t be long, they get to me every few days.”

You wrapped your arms around her torso.

“Well, then you’ll just have to stay close by.”

She hesitated, holding her breath for a second. You waited.

“Do you want me to stay? Tonight?”

You smiled to yourself.

“Would you?”

“Of course.”

You kept talking for a while. Abby told you about the party and about the cook Nora was currently hooking up with, and you told her about the boy in the kitchen. She recalled training with Danny when she first joined the WLF, laughing about how he had boasted that he wouldn’t lose to a girl and how she had him on the ground in a headlock in about two seconds.

At some point you must have fallen asleep, because the next thing you knew you were in the truck again, sitting in the passenger seat as the car flew through Seattle at top speed. You looked over and in the driver's seat there was the red-haired boy from the kitchen. His face was determined, a hard mask of concentration. He was panting hard, driving as fast as he could. Arrows were flying around you, soaring through the broken windows of the car and missing you by mere inches. A horse was whinnying. Scars. You immediately pulled out your gun and started shooting at everything that moved outside, hitting at least three people and a horse.

“Sorry,” you whispered as you reloaded. Animals weren’t fair.

You looked up and suddenly there was someone standing in the middle of the street. A small girl, brown-haired and in a red dress. Her back was to you. You screamed at the driver, but it was too late. The truck hit the child and it was thrown against the windshield, making a horrible noise as it cracked the glass and rolled over the roof to the back of the car where it fell to the ground. The truck came to a shrieking halt and you jumped out, gun drawn. The scars had vanished. You and the redhead ran back to where the girl was laying in a heap on the street, so small and fragile. Blood was running through the cracks in the pavement.

You turned the girl on her back and froze when you saw her face.

“Sierra! No, no, no, oh god no, what have we done - Sierra, Sierra, baby, look at me!”

“Y/N!” You heard your name but Sierra’s lips weren’t moving. “Y/N!” You whipped your head around and woke up.

It was dark and Abby had an arm wrapped around you, the other was holding your cheek. You swallowed and struggled for air.

“I’ve got you, hey, just breathe for me, I’ve got you.” Abby’s voice was sleepy and rough, something you'd have never thought you’d have the privilege of hearing. It calmed you down instantly. You dug your fingers into her arm, strong muscle flexing beneath your touch.

“Shhh, that’s right, just hold on. You’re okay.” You melted into her arms, hands and legs still shaking. She made a quiet humming noise in the back of her throat and pressed another kiss to your scalp. “I’m here. I’ll take care of you. I’m here.”

“You’re here,” you whispered and she hummed again in response. You rested your head against her chest and listened to her breaths as they slowly became more regular, chest steadily moving against you. Her heartbeat thumped softly in your ear. Cocooned in the wolf’s arms and serenaded by the quiet symphony of her sleeping body, you finally drifted off to sleep again.

#abby anderson #abby tlou #abby tlou2 #abby anderson fic #fanfiction #angst #fluff #hurt/comfort #angst/comfort #angst/fluff #manny tlou #wlf #washington liberation front #abby anderson / reader #abby/reader

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sweeethinny · 3 years

Text

Skin

Harry wanted to be able to show Ginny, through his eyes, how beautiful she is, and how all this insecurity with her body after giving birth to James is not necessary.

Since he cannot do this, he tries in other ways.

this fic is part of The Harry and Ginuary Extravanganza :) I'm sorry for any mistake

* all of this was written while I was listening to Mac Miller album The Divine Feminine, if anyone wants to get in the mood :)

read bellow the cut or in AO3 :)

Harry had been away from home for almost a month, which seemed more like a painful and torturous eternity than anything else. He missed Ginny and little James, it was much worse than the whole situation that he, Ron, and Theo got into, camping close to a pack of werewolves, and chasing a killer who seemed almost as good at hiding which even made them doubt their abilities as Aurors.

Harry was tired, with some bruises, hungry, missing his son who had not even turned a year yet and probably had grown a lot, and his wife. Harry wanted more than ever to hug Ginny and feel her against him.

He also really wanted to take a decent shower and lie on a bed that wasn’t a camp mattress, because Harry was no longer so young to be able to sleep in a bed like that.

It was worth it, he told himself when he could finally apparate to his home, in peace that he could be with his family again, Robards is looking to retire, he will end up choosing me . Harry didn't quite believe it, but Ginny repeated it a lot every time he complained about the boss; 'One day you will be the boss and you will not need to work like that.'

It was what he expected.

Since he had been a father, Harry was always trying to escape these suicide missions, but he was not always able, and he just hoped that when he was promoted, he would be able to spend more time at home. He never wanted so much to work with the Auror bureaucracy and leave the field.

He still enjoyed the excitement, the chase, the adrenaline, but he was no longer willing to risk his life so much.

In addition to Ginny, there was now someone else who encouraged him, even more, to return home alive.

When Harry opened the door, the smell of home entered his nostrils, a smell he never really stopped to notice, but after a month away, he managed to recognize it.

The hallway light on the second floor was on, probably for James to wake up. Harry took off his boots, cloak, and most of his clothes, and walked around the house, smiling for the first time in a month, seeing James's toys on the living room floor, and some scattered around the dining room, and a divine smell from the room that looked like a turkey, came from the kitchen. Hoping that Ginny was already asleep, as well as James since it was past one in the morning, Harry stopped for a snack.

He didn't even bother to heat the food, eating as if he hadn't seen food for more than days, devouring the deliciously seasoned turkey leg, and alternating with the remaining farofa and baked potatoes. It was a little rude and disgusting, he knew, but Harry felt his stomach echo with hunger, forcing him to forget the etiquette.

After less than ten minutes, he was fed, tiptoeing up to the second floor, James's bedroom door was open, as usual, and Harry couldn't help wanting to see his son and entered the room, taking be careful not to wake him up, seeing him resting deeply in bed, wearing adorable dinosaur pajamas, which put him on completely and prevented him from being cold at night. He looked bigger, Harry noticed, and with more hair, he wanted to hold his son in his arms, hug him but was content to just kiss his slightly sweaty forehead. Harry checked that the window was locked, closed the curtains tightly, covered his son, and left the room.

A part of him was satisfied, James was safe, well, and tomorrow would probably jump on Harry as soon as he realized his father was back. James always went to their bed in the morning, just asked to sleep with them and slept for a few more hours, but whenever Harry spent a few days outside, the next morning when the little one realized that his father was back, it was as if sleep disappeared.

After a month away from James' warm hugs during the mornings when they slept together, Harry was not complaining.

But he was not yet complete, not when he had not yet seen Ginny.

She was probably asleep, he thought, it was late and the days must have been tiring now that she was back to training, and without him at home to help with James, things should have been going smoothly. But the light in their room was on, which Harry found strange.

Still trying not to make any noise, because maybe she just fell asleep without even realizing it, Harry approached, opening the door a little more and sticking his head into their room, looking around.

Harry had already seen Ginny in many ways, they had a son together, however, he was not prepared for that.

She was standing in front of her dressing table, evaluating herself in front of the mirror on the wall, taking small turns to try to see her back, and then turning and facing the mirror. Ginny did not seem to feel the cold that Harry was feeling, since she wore one of the smallest lingerie he had ever seen, still seeming to assess whether the piece was beautiful or not.

The light blue lace made her look even more beautiful, contrasting with the freckles that spread over her skin and the light tan she was getting now that she was back in training. The bra barely hid her nipples, temptingly drawing her breasts, and not having the same common cut as the others she wore, and instead, this one had a few more buttons and went down to the beginning of her ribs, already in translucent fabric. The lace itself was only on the straps and the front of the breasts, descending in a V to the middle of the other fabric, something that made it look even more beautiful.

Ginny kept her hands in front of her belly, the same way she did a month ago when they were going to have sex, or she ended up undressing next to him, and automatically hid her belly. Harry would always comment that she didn't need to hide from him, but Ginny insisted that she still didn't feel safe with her body.

‘Pregnancy changed me,’ She always said. 'You don't know what it's like to see your body change dramatically in a matter of months... Now I have stretch marks where I never thought I would.'

Harry thought it was silly, Ginny was beautiful anyway, and he was still a fool in love, with or without stretch marks.

The panties also had that translucent fabric with a light blue background, it was one of those that had a high waistband and that he knew Ginny preferred to wear recently, but this one he could still see her belly, and the lace only appeared again from the front, covering only what was necessary, while at the back, it was just a small piece of the other fabric, not making much of a point of hiding anything from it, which made Harry salivate.

His imagination would never live up to the perfection that she was, how beautiful her ass made him a little too obsessed, or how her breasts had also changed after pregnancy, and all of James's breastfeeding.

'Hmmm… maybe?' He heard her murmur to the reflection, again turning around in a way that she could still look at her back, running her hands behind her thighs as if she wanted to lift her ass a little further. What Harry thought was unnecessary.

'I thought it was more than perfect.' He finally manifested himself, leaning on the doorframe and feeling his erection grow and cause that pressure against his pants.

Ginny jumped up and pulled her robe in front of her, startled and looking at him with wide eyes, pink cheeks and looking like she had managed to hold back the scream in time. ‘Harry!’

'Yea, it's me.’ He smiled.

'Harry .' Ginny finally seemed to realize it was him there, after a month, and dropped the robe back, running towards him and throwing herself at him in much the same way as the sunny days of 1996, but this time, he picked her up and kissed her with much more hunger and passion than he did at the age of 16, carefully closing the door behind them and taking her to bed, numb with longing and lust.

It was so good to kiss her again, to get lost in the warmth and softness of her lips, her small, slightly callused hands touching him as if to make sure it was him there, going from hair to shoulders, to cheeks, chest. It was as if she also checked that he was okay, whole, without any damage.

'I missed you so much,' he murmured between her kiss, falling on the bed with Ginny on top of him, his hands roaming everywhere he reached, feeling entirely at peace.

'I thought it would take you longer.' She cried, holding his face in her hands and parting their lips so they could look at each other. The brown eyes that Harry thought about daily were staring at him as if they hadn't seen him in years, shining on the sides as if Ginny tried to hold on to her emotions, struggling to hold herself in front of him.

Harry recognized the effort, but he didn't think it was necessary. It was just the two of them there, Ginny didn't have to hide.

He ran his thumb over her cheek, wiping away the one tear that ran. 'I was so scared,' she whispered, like a secret she had been keeping for days.

'Me too,' Harry admitted, failing to divert his attention from her caramel eyes. 'I just wanted to go back to home and be with you.'

'James missed you, he wasn't so happy and today was the first day he agreed to sleep in his bed.' Ginny smiled and lifted her shoulders, her cheeks turning slightly pink. 'Maybe he knew that Daddy would be back.'

'I'm glad he predicted that I would come back,' Harry let his eyes roam over her body, and now more closely he was able to see how the bra fabric barely made an effort to cover her skin. It was too much of a temptation to bear, and Harry barely contained himself before touching them, feeling heaviness in his hands and the heat radiating through the lace, making his stomach drop and his mouth water. Harry had missed it so much.

'You liked it? I went out with the girls after a workout, and Genevieve made me buy it, but I still don't know if it looked good.' Ginny said, her voice a little shaky as if she were that 11-year-old girl who couldn't look at him without blushing, which made him look up from those breasts he was in love with, and look at her. Ginny was really blushing, the red that covered her cheeks was also running down her neck and bust. ‘The bra doesn’t have much support and I don’t know if it looked so beautiful, I mean, it’s a beautiful piece, but I don’t think it looked beautiful on me .’

'Ginny,' Harry interrupted, holding her chin, forcing her to look at him, the other hand coming down her side and holding her in place, already sensing that she was trying to extricate herself from him. ‘You look hot,’ he said. ‘I’m feeling like a teenager, about to come in my pants.’

She laughed, that laugh he loved to hear. 'I would be really upset if even after all this time it was still happening.'

'I have learned to hold on,' He smiled, still caressing her cheek, smiling lovingly at Ginny. 'You and beautiful. In all moments.'

'Even when I was all sweaty, giving birth to James?' Ginny asked, laughing sheepishly as she laced her fingers through his, her auburn hair falling like lava on either side of her face.

'Of course.' Harry didn't take his eyes off hers, wanting her to understand that he was being more than real there. He wanted her to be seen through his eyes, and then she would understand how beautiful she is. 'I think I came to love you even more, if that is possible, that day.'

'Awn Harry, don't be so dramatic, you spend only a month away and when you come back you are declaring yourself as a passionate poet.' She laughed, but he did not fail to notice how Ginny's cheeks got even more flushed and she turned her attention to the wall behind the headboard, as if she tried not to let him realize that it affected her.

'I really missed you, that's why.' Harry shrugged, caressing her cheek and bringing her amber eyes back down to his, laying her head against his hand. 'I hate to be away from you for a long time... my romantic mind comes up and I have a lot of time to think about how to declare myself to you.'

'I hate it too when you stay away,' Ginny smiled, allowing him to see her without all those walls she put up for protection.

'Did something happen while I was gone?' He stared at her, noticing how her shoulders tensed and then relaxed when Ginny sighed and lay on his chest, hugging him as she could, as she usually liked to do during the cold nights.

'Nothing too urgent...'

'Ginny…' Harry whispered, running his hands down her back, feeling the skin prickle.

'Rita made a very pertinent comment about me.' Harry felt her tense under his arms again, and kept silent waiting for Ginny to continue talking. Somehow they got a picture of me training only in a crop top, and apparently I should wear t-shirts like the other girls... something to do with my belly and stretch marks.. ' She sighed.

Harry wanted to go to the Prophet and shout some truths that had been stuck for years, in Rita's face. But he just preferred to tighten his grip around Ginny, and kiss the top of her head.

'You look beautiful in any outfit.' He said, trying to be as clear as possible. 'Rita and everyone else are just assholes who are too self-centered to look at their navel for a minute... You are the hottest woman, Ginny, and I don't say that just because we are married.'

'My body has changed a lot in the last year.' She lifted her face, resting her chin on his chest and looking at him, her brown eyes flashed. 'I don't think I'll ever have that body again and-'

'-And you are still beautiful.' The two faced each other. 'You gave birth to a child, Gin, this is incredible. Your body being able to do that is incredible. I will never get tired of saying that. ’Harry smiled. 'I wanted you to see yourself through my eyes, and see how beautiful you are, even with all those things that you insist on saying are defects and that you hate them.'

'Don't make me cry,' She sat on his lap again, fanning her eyes and looking up at the ceiling, her cheeks flushed and a lovely smile on her face, Harry couldn't help but laugh too, feeling incredibly lighter than hours ago, as if now all that tension had been reduced to dust and there was only peace left in his chest.

'About this lingerie... do you have any plans, or are you just experimenting...?' He went back to browsing Ginny's sculptural body, almost drooling over how her breasts looked in that piece, and the transparency of her panties, which ended up exactly where it started getting more interesting. Harry groaned when she moved and stood on top of his cock, closing his eyes with the sensation of the gods it caused.

'I would surprise you when you came back, I thought it would take another week, then I would buy some candles, and cut my hair... But you ruined my plans.' Ginny smiled, biting her bottom lip as if she knew it was driving him crazy. ‘I believe you want to take a shower?’

'I might want some company,' Harry said, holding Ginny firmly in his lap, getting up from the bed and listening to her scream in fright as he walked to the bathroom in their suite, no longer feeling the fatigue from before. 'You know how needy I am after returning from missions.’

'It's a valid request.' Ginny hugged his neck, hands clinging to his hair, as if he were the life jacket that prevented her from sinking. He felt that way about her too. 'I missed having someone in the bath with me… Someone who doesn't want to mess up the bathroom with water and foam.' Harry laughed, placing her sitting on the white marble countertop, watching her body shiver as she made contact with the cold stone, waving with the wand for the hot water to start filling the bathtub.

'I might want to make a bit of a mess,' he said, approaching and feeling her warm breath against his face, before Harry narrowed the distance and kissed her, hungry but still keeping control, leaving his hands on her thighs, keeping them far enough away for him to stay in the middle.

'I like this mess,' Ginny whispered, her eyes closed and her forehead against his, breathing hard, the sound of water being the only one to fill the room. 'I am happy that you came back. I missed you a lot.’

Harry nodded, closing his eyes to make sure it wasn't just a dream, opening them again then just to see Ginny there. 'I felt it too. I am miserable without you.’

[...]

Harry woke up much later with small hands pulling the blanket off them, and the unfortunate murmurs of a child who tried his best to climb up on the bed. He sighed, feeling happy to get back to that routine, but he didn't move, wanting James to find out for himself that Harry had come back. It was a good time.

One more sigh from a boy who seemed very irritated by his young age, and then he finally succeeded, almost removing all the cover from Ginny, crawling up a little sleepily, still holding that light yellow cloth he always carried, and scratching his eyes.

The sun hadn't even risen, leaving the room in that gloom of the few hours before finally dawn, but Harry could see when James opened his brown eyes and threw himself on top of him.

‘Daddy!’ James shouted, hugging his father as he managed, cold hands making the man shiver.

'Hi my love,' Harry murmured, happy, tired, and a little too sentimental, feeling his eyes prickle. 'Speak low, it is still very early and mummy is sleeping.' He put James under the covers, stroking his son's slightly sweaty head, kissing the boy's forehead. 'We are going to sleep some more, okay? The sun hasn't even appeared yet.’

'Daddy…' James murmured, and Harry waited to see what meaningless phrase his son would try to murmur now, but the boy just kept his icy hands touching his father's face, as if to make sure he was really there.

He could not wait to be able to do fewer and fewer missions that required him to stay away from home for a long time.

'Sleep honey, daddy is here,' Harry assured him, snuggling the boy into his embrace, feeling finally complete, watching Ginny turn towards them, sleeping soundly, and then James, who was preparing for it, little hands clutched the shirt that Harry was wearing, as if it were his cloth.

Harry felt like the happiest man in the world.

#hinny #harry x ginny #Harry and Ginuary #fluff moment #Harry Potter #Ginny Weasley #James Sirius Potter

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moonflowerlesbians · 3 years

Note

Hear me out.... Owen is in town, and Jamie and him have a big night out and for some reason Dani stays home. On Jamie and Owens adventures Jamie gets a tattoo of danis initials and has no memory of it until Dani spots it?

had this bad boy in the drafts for a couple days until I could finish it the way I wanted so thank you for your patience

~~~

“You’ve got some dirt on the back of your leg.” The amused smile is audible in Dani’s tone.

It isn’t unheard of for Jamie to draw dirt to her skin like a magnet--the creases beneath her fingernails are perpetually stained deep brown--but a soil stain by half seven in the morning might be a new record.

Jamie swivels, peering down at the back of her left leg with a perplexed brow.

Nothing but plain alabaster skin dotted with the occasional constellation of freckles. Then to the right.

She bends to touch the back of her calf, just below her right knee, to rub off the smear when she freezes, her fingertips mere centimeters away from the skin.

A flash of memory returns to her of the previous night. It’s hazy, blurred by the effects of numerous drinks, but she has a vague recollection of a dare proposed, a challenge accepted. The sterile surface of a leather seat under her stomach, buzzing, a faint stinging sensation, and--

Oh.

So, not dirt, then.

There, on the back of her leg in an elegant script, reside the letters ‘D.M.C.’.

Heat rises in Jamie’s cheeks.

“Alright over there?” Dani calls from where she moved across the shop to install a new shipment of bouquet paper. They’d been especially excited about this one. Miniature toucans adorn a tropical backdrop. Dani had spotted it in a supplier’s catalogue and insisted they stock it.

“Fine,” Jamie squeaks, covering her momentary flash of panic with a cough. Then, because Jamie Taylor does not squeak, she says with a modicum of false ambivalence, “All good.”

“How was your night out last night? You got home late.”

That she did. It was nearly three in the morning when Jamie made her way home after dropping Owen at his hotel. He’d made the flight over from Paris and insisted on a night out on the raucous streets of the charmingly quaint Vermont town Dani and Jamie call home.

She remembers downing an embarrassingly small number of drinks for her British constitution and engaging in a good-natured game of dares. A drink for every truth or dare not completed, and Jamie had yet to turn down a challenge. The evening was winding down when they’d gotten on the topic of tattoos.

“What do you mean you don’t have a single tattoo?” Owen sipped his drink, earned after refusing to admit whether he and Hannah had slept together, and wagged a stricken finger in Jamie’s face. “You’re sure? You seem like you’d have at least one hidden away under all those layers.”

“Not one,” Jamie confirmed, “Haven’t had anything worth remembering, I suppose.” Then, said with a laugh, “Had a pretty shite couple of years if you recall.”

“There has to be something,” Owen hummed and stirred his straw. Ice cubes clinked in his glass. “Truth: what is the best thing in your life?”

Easy, Jamie thinks, glancing fondly across the room at the woman who stubbornly refuses to use a stepladder despite being thoroughly unable to reach the top rack of paper.

D.M.C.

Dani Marie Clayton.

The script was taken from the back of a photograph Jamie keeps in her wallet. The two of them in a national park taken by a fellow tourist. Dani, in her neat print, wrote their names, the location, and the date on the back. Jamie had shown it to the tattoo artist to copy, while Owen had just chuckled from the edge of the room.

Despite the nature of the situation, the tattoo was not a fleeting thing meant for regretting in the cool dawn light. Rather, it was one boiled and steeped in the nature of them, of their relationship. Months and years of careful study, of gentle push-pull, of dedication to each other and to their shared growth. Stability of a sort Jamie had never encountered. Something worth saving, memorializing on her skin, though it may as well have been inked onto her heart, her mind, her soul.

“Night was grand,” she says to Dani, “Grabbed a few drinks down the road….” And sort-of-kind-of-maybe gotatattooofyourinitialswithoutconsultingyou?

Dani shuffles across the floor with a stack of boxes in her arms and bends down to place them on the floor beside Jamie. “Hey, you’ve still got some… What’s that?”

The words bubble from Jamie’s throat before she can stop them. “Not sure I can get it removed, but I can cover it if you like or use a plaster. I can probably get some makeup…” she rushes.

“Woah, woah,” Dani placates, “let me see.” She crouches to get a better look, while Jamie closes her eyes in morbid anticipation. Dani’s breath catches.

“Is that a… Are those--”

“Yeah,” Jamie breathes, a little embarrassed, a little loving, “yeah. They are.”

Dani touches the taught skin with the tip of an index finger, tracing the letters with the lightest touch by the blunt end of her nail.

“And that’s… That’s my handwriting?”

Jamie nods, unable to bring herself to speak, the words caught in reddening cheeks and thick swallows.

“I know I should’ve asked you first, made sure this was alright before… It’s just, well, Owen and a few drinks and he was talkin’ about memories and--”

“I like it.”

Jamie pauses mid-sentence, mouth hung slightly agape. She manages to meet Dani’s eyes, the gentle blue and brown shining with easy emotion. Not tears, no, just a sense of profound fondness that wraps Jamie like a warm blanket in the dead of winter. The sort of emotion that will not be chipped away by embarrassed rambling and twitchy fingers.

“You… you do?” Confusion laces the inquiry until it sounds a bit more like a statement than a question.

Dani nods slowly, her head tilted as though choosing her next words carefully. “I never… I never thought much about visible proof of devotion beyond, well,” she holds up her left hand, where a gold band glints in the morning light, “but I’ve also never loved anyone the way I love you.” The corner of her mouth quirks up, and the pressure in Jamie’s chest relieves just a fraction. “I’ve spent so much time trying to distance myself from my memories, it always seemed pointless to have a permanent reminder.” Dani considers, “But you know that. You know that better than anyone. So you wouldn’t have picked a tattoo if there might even be a chance you’d regret it later.”

Jamie shakes her head, says softly, “I’ll never want to forget you. Ever.”

Dani takes a step closer and nods again. “So, how could I not like it?” She quickly surveys the shop, still empty of customers, before pressing her forehead to Jamie’s and looping her arms around her neck. Jamie allows the calm of Dani’s touch to wash over her as she sinks into the embrace.

“Still should’ve asked you first,” she mumbles half-heartedly.

Dani hums, “Probably.” Jamie shifts with a low groan, and Dani cuts off the impending apology. “But you didn’t, and I forgive you, and besides,” Dani bumps their noses, “tattoos are kind of sexy.”

“Yeah?”

“Mhmm,” Dani confirms, nudging Jamie’s nose once more before stepping away. “Just make sure you take care of it so it doesn’t get infected.”

“Right, yeah,” Jamie breathes, inhaling the lingering wisps of Dani’s scent in the air. “Infections. Not sexy.”

“Not exactly, no,” Dani laughs. The bell over the shop door chimes. “Hi, there! I can help you over here….”

And Dani was off, her bright smile and swinging ponytail doing wonders to ease Jamie’s worrying mind.

This. This is what she wants to remember. Dani. Here, in their shop, her eyes crinkling at the corners when she laughs at a quip the customer rattles off as if it is the most amusing joke she’s heard all month. The joy in this moment. In this life. Their life.

It’s something worth saving.

#as always #no beta we die like dani #can you tell i dont know shit about tattoos #my writing #fic #ask #anon #the haunting of bly manor #damie #dani clayton #jamie #jamie taylor #jamie x dani #dani x jamie #thobm #thobm fanfic #damie fanfic #the haunting of bly manor fanfic #owen sharma

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