#and challenging them to be better themselves. it feels like i am squeezing here but PLEASE HEAR ME OUT

[autisticshizuo]

airports and duels

[alessiathepirate]

Scream

NOTHING GOES ACCORDING TO PLAN: Ethan Landry x fem!reader

Summary: Nothing went according to plan. She shouldn't have been stabbed; she never meant to be a victim.

Notes: English isn't my first language. I apologize for any mistake I made while I wrote this short story.

Warnings: SPOILERS! (Scream 6), blood and violence, description of said violence, swearing

•••

Just like before, after the doors closed in front of them, separating the friend group to two smaller teams, she was once again torn between suspicion and love.

Handling that situation was always the most challenging for her. She felt like her whole mind was torn into two parts whenever the whole group was together and the 'Core Four' - as Chad liked to call themselves nowadays - accused her lover of being a Ghostface killer. And it's not like she was stupid, not understanding their reasoning. She knew where they were coming from, she accepted that their suspicion towards everyone other than themselves was the right thing to think these days - but still, they for sure gave her many migraines ever since the murders have started again.

It was hard to be both an understanding friend with great survival instincts and a loving, protective girlfriend who either shut the world out or kicked someone in the face whenever accusations were thrown around.

And as Sam with the others got further away from them, she was once again standing between those two sides. Ethan was trying to keep up the positivity, while Mindy was trying to get as far away from her prime suspect as possible, sending her glances which said 'you should do the same'. Once again she was left in the middle.

As Mindy took a few steps away from them to text Chad, Ethan held her hand and gently squeezed it, trying to reassure her that everything would be all right.

"Are you okay?"

"Yes, sure." she answered and stood on her tippy toes to press a kiss to his cheek, close to his mouth. "I just wish it was over, you know? I don't like it when they are treating you like this." she turned towards Mindy, not daring to raise her hand and point at her, because even though her friend was texting, she for sure looked like she's glaring at them here and there while doing so.

His answer was another gentle squeeze and it made her heartbeat faster.

After waiting for the next ride to show up, what to her felt like long hours, they got into the cart, finally leaving that station behind. But after getting in and looking around, she had the feeling that standing and waiting at the station was probably better, no matter how she could literally cut through the tension with a knife.

Inside, there were multiple people dressed up as Ghostface, sending her to a whole other dimension. That whole thing felt like a set up and a trap, and fearing the worst she looked around to find Mindy, who didn't want to stay with them.

Ethan found her first and raised his hand to wave, but didn't get any kind gesture back from her.

"I'll go and check on her, okay?" she asked as she looked up at him. "I'll be right back in a few seconds."

And just like that she was on her way to Mindy, pushing away a few people to be able to move.

"Hey, are the others okay?"

"Sure." was the short answer she got. "But maybe you should ask yourself if you're okay."

She didn't have to continue for her to know that she's talking about Ethan, who's gaze she could feel on her back.

"I know I am." she replied, trying not to argue as she looked at the screen of Mindy's phone.

U on the next train?

Yes w Ethan aka GF

Sending...

She did her best to bite her tongue and not say anything. Mindy's hurt and that's understandable, Anika just died and everything is going to shit again. She has to keep calm and let it play out, she'll see that she was wrong and even though she won't apologize, the usual mood will be back again.

Mindy raised her arms, because the message didn't want to be sent, but after a few moments she gave up and looked at her with a sigh.

"Look, you know you should never trust the-"

That's when a man with a Ghostface mask on leaned towards them, making them jump and curse at him. The guy laughed as he muttered a 'sorry'. The two girls backed away, but doing that got her further away from Ethan.

"God dammit, now I have to believe that everyone in this fucking city is an asshole." she cursed as they found a new spot. She turned around and sent Ethan a reassuring smile, calming the poor boy down, who was about to get to them.

Just then the lights started to flicker, making the train darker and creepier. It sent goosebumps down her spine.

As she noticed another person in a Ghostface costume a few steps away, a man accidentally bumped into her, sending her backwards, stumbling far away from Mindy. Many others had to change positions as the most likely drunk guy tried to keep his balance, but that created a barricade between her and Mindy - and Ethan. She could no longer see them, and she was pushed even further back until her back touched the metal door.

Yes, these people were truly assholes tonight.

The lights flickered once again and that's when she noticed the movement. Like a true horror movie scene, as it got dark the figure got closer and closer, but stood still when the lights were on again. The mask of the Ghostface costume scared her and she was about to either call out or scream when the figure rushed towards her, and the last thing she knew was that she tasted the material of the gloves on her lips, as the person kept her mouth shut.

How could she forget, she thought as she looked at the mask, examining the eyes and the mouth, never say 'I'll be right back', because you won't be back.

The sudden pain in her abdome was so strong and insufferable that tears formed in her eyes as she closed them, as if that would help her escape from it. She felt how the knife cut through skin and muscle, but she could also hear it and those sounds made her gag. She felt herself shouting, but no one could hear her because of the hand on her mouth.

And then the figure started cutting and cutting, pushing the knife upwards towards her chest and the absolute misery and torture that action brought with itself was too painful to bear. She was sobbing then, she knew that much, but she raised her arms to either defend herself, pull the mask off or hurt the murderer, so the others will know that the scars on someone means they found who they were looking for.

The knife was pulled out too suddenly and she fell to the ground with some quiet whimpers, not finding the strength in herself to shout, while the train moved on and on.

Mindy was the first to get to her, since she was closer, but by the time she got there the figure was already gone. Mindy fell to her knees in front of her as she cursed, trying to find the right thing to do to stop the bleeding.

She only noticed that both of them were shaking after Mindy pressed down on her wound, what made her cry out in pain. She felt both cold and hot as she did her best to not look down, because she was sure the sight alone would make her faint.

"Shit, shit, shit. We gotta get you out of here!"

And there he was - Ethan was pushing through the crowded cart, not caring who will fall. When their eyes met all she saw was shock. He seemed so shocked that for a second he froze, not knowing where he is or who is. He only moved when Mindy cursed again because she started to cough. The way he rushed to her, almost falling while doing so, broke her heart. His cheeks became pink, he started to sweat and he cursed out so loudly she was sure everyone in the cart could hear him.

"Fuck- that's a lot of blood..." his voice cracked as he talked and as he leaned closer and touched her face, making sure she's keeping her eyes open, she explored something new in his gestures and expression.

The shock turned to fear at first. Pure, unmistakable fear as he looked at her and noticed the wound and the blood. Then it changed again. The fear was still partially there, but so was something wild and primal. The way the muscels moved under his eyes and next to his mouth, she could feel the anger radiating off of him. She found the need to protect and avenge in his gaze.

"Get the fuck away from her, you hear me?" Mindy tried to push him away in fear.

"Can you shut the fuck up for one second for God's sake?" Ethan was angry and scared. She's never seen him angry before. "We have to get you out of here, okay darling? Fuck, call 911!"

The train stopped, the doors opened. As Ethan's left hand took Mindy's place on her abdomen so her friend can call for help, she grabbed his arm, trying to settle her pain and fear down.

"It's okay, it's okay, sweetheart. I'm gonna get you out of here."

And he did.

He got a hold of her left arm and waist as good and as gentle as he could, and slowly walked her out of the cart. Her right hand found his on her stomach as they both pressed down on the wound, trying to stop the bleeding.

"E..." she muttered or at least tried to.

"Sh, don't talk, okay? Everything's gonna be fine." his voice was cracking here and there and when she looked up at his face she could see that his eyes became teary.

She interwined their fingers; their bloody, sticky fingers.

Ethan as gently and painlessly as possible sat her down to the ground before a pillar, close to the entrance to the subway station. She noticed how some people stopped to give them worried, panicked looks.

Her back was against the cold concrete as she kept eyecontact with him, pressuring herself to stay awake.

"You're gonna be okay, you hear me?" she didn't know who he tried to reassure with that sentence; her or himself. "God, you're gonna be fine. You have to be."

She raised her arm to touch his face even if the pain in her stomach had travelled up to her lungs because of it. The throbbing pain was so much, she almost accidentally poked him in the eye, because her hands started to shake.

Seeing the way her body reacted to the pain sent Ethan over the edge and the tears that already danced in the corners of his eyes started to fall. She's never wanted to see him cry. All right, maybe from happiness, but definitely not from fear. She wiped the proof of distress away with her thumb.

"I don't want to lose you..."

The way he said it, voice full of fear and pain made her cry as well - the reasons of the tears were mixed together. She whimpered as he pressed down a little harder on the wound.

"I- I've never wanted you to get hurt-" he had to swallow to continue. "I don't know what I'd do without you..."

"They'll be here in a few minutes!" Mindy shouted as she ran back to them. "I gotta go up so I can lead them here."

"Then go!"

Mindy looked at her wounded friend and only left when she nodded that it's fine, she'll be safe with Ethan.

After the girl left she looked back at her lover and did her best to keep her breath steady as she started to talk: "You won't- lose me, E. That won't- won't fucking happen!" she tried to smile at him, but the smile turned out to be quite ugly, because she gritted her teeth from the pain. "Besides- this will scream for a sick tattoo- when it scars."

They both smiled then, painfully, but honestly at her weak attempt to make everything better.

"I love you, E."

She thought about how crazy the past few days have been, how everything went from bad to worst. Yet no matter what happened, Ethan was always there for her to make everything better. He kissed her, hugged her, cuddled her and did his best to both calm her and make her forget about the situation they were in.

And when Ethan seemed to be a bit under the weather or when he got a bit hurt or overall tired from all the pointing fingers and accusations, she was doing the same for him.

"I love you too..."

He leaned in and pressed a short, but meaningful kiss to her lips and ran his fingers through her hair with his free hand.

" 'You'll stay with me, right?"

"Of course I will."

"Good," she whispered. " 'cause I'm fucking terrified of hospitals."

They both giggled a little as their foreheads touched. She started to cough again.

"I'd do anything for you..." Ethan mumbled, his voice had a strange edge, something what was even to her unknowm. "Anything."

That's when she saw Mindy, followed by paramedics, all of them running towards them. Ethan pressed one last kiss to her forehead then let go of her, giving place for the paramedics and letting them work.

As they put her on a stretcher and got her outside to the ambulance, Ethan's phone started to ring. As he looked at his wounded lover on the stretcher he felt so much anger building up in himself that he almost threw the phone away. She stabbed her. She had one fucking job and she stabbed her.

He'd do anything for her...

That night Ethan decided to go to the hospital instead of the shrine.

[snapeaddict]

Snapetober day 1 - Foliage

Written in participation to Momo's unofficial 2023 Snapetober - thanks @momo-t-daye for the earthy prompt list! Will try to be consistent this year.

October 1st, 1997

Though he had cast more than a generous amount of spells on himself, some of his own making, the rustling produced by each of his movements seemed to him as though they echoed through the whole valley: they traveled to the far off mountains and then back to him with intolerable noise.

Severus glowered at the trees around him; their thinning foliage were responsible for this lack of discretion. He then lowered his gaze to the ground, stepping only on the gold, orange and red leaves, avoiding with striking expertise all the brown ones which, having had time to dry, produced the loudest sounds.

It was silly, of course. No one could hear him. But it kept his mind busy: it felt good, if frustrating.

He started counting his steps. He focused on the numbers, and the leaves. He had played these games more times than he could count these last few months, and had always lost: no effort of the mind, no challenge of the intellect was ever strong enough to conceal his aching heart to himself.

He halted.

There was the grave, tall and white and majestic. Severus was almost blinded by it – the sun shone bright that day, and the lake was, as usual, pitch black; the trees, all crimson red, detached themselves quite sharply from the sky behind them, too blue, much too bright too.

It was not beautiful, for there was no harmony between all those shades. But it was all meant to be joyful: that alone hurt terribly.

To conceal himself, Severus had circumvented the lake using a path that crossed the forest and led directly to the back of the grave, on the far left of the shore. He was about to step out onto the grass when a sound stopped him in his tracks: he froze, and his hand, below his cloak, squeezed his wand with disproportionate strength.

“I don’t know what to tell you”, a voice said, and he recognized it instantly.

It was coming from the front of the grave, not far from him.

Slowly, he leaned against the back of the monument, his expression hard and cold. He was pale, and his hands were trembling slightly.

“Every time I come here, and I don’t know what to tell you. I have cried, I have yelled, I – for Merlin’s sake, I have even pleaded with you. Now that I think of it, I do hope you have not heard or seen any of that. You know how I forget myself, when my emotions get the better of me.”

There was a pause. Severus’ gaze rested on the trees before him; it followed, with obsessive intensity, the fall of each leaf that had surrendered to the sweet autumnal breeze.

“The students are back. They have been forced to. That tells us everything we need to know about the ministry's current state of affairs. Sev-Severus… Severus is headmaster.”

He stopped breathing at the mention of his name. His eyes reverted from the trees to where Minerva’s voice was emanating from, to the left of the marble wall. He blinked several times, rapidly: the pain in his chest was, for a moment, all he could feel or think of.

“I am still… I am still waiting, Albus”, Minerva went on, and her voice was weak, fragile, completely unlike her. “I will take anything.” There was a strange noise, almost like a strangled sob. She cleared her throat. “The smallest sign. The smallest proof that you… and Severus… have some sort of greater plan.”

He was only vaguely aware of the scene before him, of the wind and the screaming buzzards above him. They were flying in a circle – he didn’t wonder why. He simply stared at the trees and saw nothing but colourful, suffocating chaos, a blurriness he did not realise was unnatural.

“I looked at him, Albus… I tried to look him in the eyes, but he avoided me… he has brought death-eaters into the castle… he says nothing. Albus; he says nothing. Why is that? You cannot have been fooled that easily. You cannot have made that sort of mistake. That would be unlike you – and what he has done, it is unlike him. I know him. I know you. I – I -”

All so red… melting and mingling and filled with a strange perfume of petrichor…

“Albus, I need you to be lying to me. The both of you.”

She let out a small whimper, and it echoed through the marble walls, unashamed. It reached Severus, and its vibration gently passed through his body.

Tears dropped to the floor, on brown leaves. He did not register their sound.

“I would survive a lie. I would survive deceit, and cunning schemes, and foolish martyrdom – I can go through it all. But, Albus…”

She rested her head against the cold white stone, and so did he, on the other side of the grave.

“I cannot bear this truth.”

[icarianlibrary]

Chapter Two - Bloom of the Sun

The banquet is gracefully decorated with candles, vines, and food from places I can not pronounce. I want this to be remembered throughout history, even if it is a ruse.

I grasp Hyacinthus’s hand, now warm and shaky. He looks at me, tilting his head up just the slightest to make direct eye contact.

“You okay?” He gives a sympathetic smile.

“Of course, what about you?” I kiss his soft lips, I can feel him smile as he kisses me back.

“I think nervous is the right word.” He pulls away.

“I won’t let him come near you, I promise, just stick with me.” I squeeze his hand. He nods and I smile. I feel bad, but I will make it up to him. We will hang out, just me and him, no one else.

Soon, Thamyris arrived.

He entered the room with the confidence of an Ox, he might as well be as clumsy as one. He touches all the decorations that took hours to put up, and I bite my lip with annoyance.

He keeps looking behind his neck, searching for Hyacinthus. Hyacinthus is with me, so I don’t greet him like you usually would.

The guests start to roll in and I smile. My Muses are set up in the back, playing the most amazing music, I really outdid myself.

Everyone takes to the floor and starts to dance in diverse ways, I grab Hyacinthus’s hands and I drag him over.

He laughs and smiles as I hold his hands and move them up and down in a playful motion. He is not a very good dancer, so he relies on me for most moves. He holds me tight and I smile.

But soon I can’t stall much longer, and I have to make an announcement about Thamyris because he is the whole reason I’m holding this banquet.

I let go of Hyacinthus’s hand and walk up to the front of the room, no one’s attention directed towards me, yet.

“Excuse me, I would like to raise a toast to Thamyris, the reason we are all here tonight!” I shout to grab everyone’s attention.

Thamyris waves his hand and smiles. I force a smile back as he walks up towards me.

“Well, I am not surprised. I am the best musician here,” The crowd laughs. “I just thank you all for recognizing that, and celebrating it with me! In preparation, I wrote a song tonight, just for you!”

He walks back to my table and grabs my lyre as he pats my Hyacinthus on the shoulder, I cringe with resentment, but I don’t say anything as he walks back to his place next to me.

He grabs the instrument, and starts to play. His fingers dance across the golden strings like a leaf in the wind, while the sound plays a beautiful soft and confident tone, perfectly mixing the 2 opposites together, and for a second I forget why I am here. The music starts to become sick and streaky as I remember what I need to do.

I started to alter the tone of my lyre so it sounds untuned without touching it.

I watch in delight as Thamyris’s eyes grow wider and more impatient by the second. He frantically inspects lyre while snapping his neck back to the crowd.

“Thamyris, I thought you were good?” I taunt as his skin grows as red as his hair.

“I- I am. I swear to Zeus, I am good! Better than the Muses themselves!”

“Is that so?” I laugh, and call over one of my Muses. As she comes, her white and golden dress flows behind her, her dark hair following.

“Yes, Apollo?” Erato asks with a sing-song voice.

“Our guest, Thamyris here, says he is even better than you Muses?”

Erato tilts her head. “Even better than I, Lord Apollo?”

“Even better than you”

“Well then. I challenge you to a music contest! Whoever wins will be declared the best in all of Sparta!

“And whoever loses?” He asks.

“Will face a punishment designed by the other”

“Very well”

It was settled, the competition would begin shortly. The crowd is still as water, and one word could create a tidal wave.

Erato summons her Lyre and starts to play. Such a beautiful tale that I can visualize it. A million different interpretations can be imagined from her song. A hero’s life cut short, a rival romance, or a happy ever after, something so rare, even I am impressed. I look over to see Thamyris. He purses his lips and runs his fingers through his curly hair. 

Erato finally stops, the crowd is in awe, no words are spoken, the water is still unbothered. She looks at Thamyris and gives a half sympathetic smile. 

“Well, that was nothing- I could do better!” Thamyris sneers while tripping over his own words.

She nods, as if giving him the right of way to go and try to be better than herself. 

He hesitates for a moment, but then grabs my lyre, I cut him off. “Ah, see that is mine, meaning, you can’t use it. Good luck though!” Erato glances at me and silently her face reads  ‘Really? Just let him use your lyre. But I do not. 

He spits at her feet, and for a second I am about to maim him right here, but Erato cuts me off.

“Borrow mine. I will not mess with it or anything, you probably forgot yours, just borrow mine.” She speaks softly, turning him away from the crowd so he is not embarrassed.

I stare in awe. She is too nice. “Erato-”

“Apollo, you can not make it impossible on him.”

She is right, I nod, my golden hair sweeping in front of my face. I tuck it into my ponytail to see Erato handing her lyre to Thamyris.

Thamyris scoffs, and snatched her lyre. I turn to her and I whisper “I’ll make you a new one”, because Thamyris would somehow find a way to ruin hers.

She nudges me in the side, and lets him play.

He uncomfortably grasps the instrument, as it was not fitted and carved for his unnaturally long fingers. Eventually he situates himself and starts to strum it. He manages to play a beautiful tune. I hate to say it, but I start to become engaged with it. I listen closely as a bead of sweat trickles down Thamyris’s freakishly long face. His pupils are shaking in the white of his eyes, and I give a sickly grin.

The audience listens intensely, their full attention on Thamyris. I just sit back and watch. A little trick I learned from Dionysus: People crack under pressure. Dionysus has often said that people will mess up on various things when they feel pressure to be perfect. That is what I’m counting on.

Thamyris slowly gets wrapped up in his own mind and his fears eat away at him. He starts to go off beat while feeling the audience’s eyes burn into his hands. His hands eventually slip off of Erato’s lyre and he is furious. He throws the instrument to the ground and tears swell up in his eyes.

“That- That isn't fair!! It isn’t my lyre! It’s Erato’s fault!!” Thamyris stammers, and Erato seems hurt. Her lyre, a gift from me to her, is shattered into a million silver pieces, and she is devastated. 

She looked at him, and with despair in her eyes she yells. “You were challenged to a competition. You lost fairly. You took your anger out on my property. For that you shall suffer. You will never look nor speak on music ever again.” And with that, she looks at me to finish it off

 I smile and I blind and mute him. 

Thamyris grabs his throat and tries to speak, but no sound comes out. His eyes, once frosted with green, are frosted with a gray film. His head turns in every direction in hopes that his sight might be magically regained, but it does not.

The first still water, is now a tidal wave of commotion.

[motownfiction]

asters & goldenrod

Around the time he finishes up his associate’s degree, Sam starts a job at Landscape Hero with his dad and Daniel.

He’s a marketing associate, which he frankly finds a little laughable. People work for years to sell products, and here he is, twenty years old, equipped with nothing but a winning smile and encyclopedic knowledge of music. Dad says they can put that to good use. Think of all the songs we could spoof for our TV spots, he says, ignoring Will’s comments about copyright. Pre-law anxieties. Must be nice.

But Sam took the job, anyway. He was tired of being a Slurpee sommelier, tired of standing up and standing still on sticky floors fifty hours a week, tired of recognizing customers’ faces after two or three visits. One should not be familiar with this many strangers’ smoking habits. Sam wanted a job where he could sit down in more reliable heat and air conditioning. He wanted a job where the boss had no choice but to give a shit about him. And he wanted a job where he could hang out with Daniel. The thing about being twenty is that your friends start to disappear, even when they don’t go anywhere.

One afternoon in June, Sam shadows Daniel to a garden he’s planting for some rich people in Bloomfield Hills. Dad has some idea that if Sam sees the garden, he’ll be able to come up with some genius campaign about it. Sam’s not sure about that, but he’ll take it as an excuse for a drive with his friend. Plus, Sadie’s coming along today. Sam’s never been one to pass up the chance to hang out with his twin. Even she is starting to disappear, and they live in the same house.

Ostensibly, Sadie’s tagging along to spend time with Daniel. After all, he’s her boyfriend, and even your boyfriend can disappear on you if you’re not careful. At least, that’s what Sam imagines as he tries not to think about James, Sadie’s study partner whom he kissed and then never saw again. And maybe a part of Sadie is there for Daniel. A big part. Doesn’t erase the part of her that’s there to hang out with Sam. She can feel him slipping, too. Sam knows it just by glancing at her. That’s his face, too, albeit with more lipstick and more freckles.

The garden is coming along beautifully. Even Sam, who has little interest in flowers, knows that. He points to a couple of plants that are growing together. They’re bluish and gold, just like the school that’s eating all his friends. Doesn’t matter, though. They’re still beautiful.

“Hey, Daniel,” Sam calls out. “What’re these?”

Daniel turns his head and smiles, just halfway.

“Ah, those’re asters and goldenrod,” he says. “They’re one of the best floral duos around. Kinda like the Batman and Robin of your garden. Better together than apart.”

His smile gets a little bigger when he walks past Sadie and squeezes her hand. When he goes into the house to talk with the rich lady who owns the place, Sam steps closer to Sadie.

“Asters and goldenrod,” Sam repeats. “You ever heard of them?”

“Of course I have, Sam,” Sadie says. “I’m a girl. Girls like flowers.”

“Guys like flowers. Look at yours.”

“Yeah, but look at you.”

“What about me?”

“You don’t like flowers.”

“I don’t dislike them.”

“Neutrality isn’t liking.”

“Yeah, but it’s not disliking.”

“If we’re not careful, this could turn into an argument about World War II, and I am just not up for that after a whole semester of World War II history.”

“You mean Switzerland?”

“Yes.”

“Oh, fuck Switzerland. But leave me the chocolate.”

Sadie laughs, which makes Sam laugh. Their laughs are sometimes funnier than the jokes themselves. When you spend your whole life hearing someone who looks just like you laugh at something you just said, you start to love the sound. You seek it out, actually, and you wouldn’t know what to do if it were gone. Sam’s laugh settles into a grin. He stares at the asters and goldenrod.

“Pretty,” he says.

“Yeah,” Sadie says. “I was thinking the same thing.”

(part of @nosebleedclub september challenge -- day xii!)

[reddie-fangirl24]

Losers Fourth of July

It was a warm summer evening on the Fourth of July, and the Losers Club had gathered together for a night of celebration. Despite living in different states, they made a plan to come together today as The Fourth of July was a special day for them. This year, they had chosen a spot near the lake where they could watch the fireworks display.

As the aroma of burgers and hotdogs filled the air, Eddie and Richie were at their usual bickering which entertained everybody. Bill was talking about a new book he was writing. And Mike announced that he was seeing someone during his travels. Just like when they were kids, the Losers all sat forward to hear Mike talk about her. 

When it was dark enough, the fireworks set off in the sky, sprouting an aray of magnificent colors. The rockets soared into the air, exploding into a beautiful display of colors and lights. The Losers oohed and aahed, their faces illuminated by the magnificent spectacle above them.

As the grand finale of the fireworks show began, illuminating the night sky with a breathtaking display of cascading sparks and explosions, the Losers huddled closer, their arms around each other. They watched in awe, their hearts filled with gratitude for the love and support they had found in each other.

After the Fourth of July fireworks had ended, the Losers Club found themselves lingering at the lake, reluctant to let the night slip away entirely. 27 years already slipped past them. They settled around a campfire, its warm glow casting gentle shadows on their faces. The crackling of the fire provided a comforting backdrop to their conversation.

Richie, always the talkative one, broke the silence. "Man, that was one hell of a show, huh? I don't think I've seen fireworks that spectacular since... well, you know, that summer."

Eddie nodded, a nostalgic smile on his face. Sitting in his boyfriend’s lap, Eddie wrapped his arms around him. They were the most physically affectionate out of any of them. "Yeah, it really brought back memories. Remember when we used to sneak out and make our own fireworks? It's amazing we didn't blow ourselves up."

Bill chuckled, his voice carrying a hint of his childhood stutter. "Y-y-yeah, and we'd hide out in the Barrens, scaring the crap out of each other with those homemade contraptions. Good times."

“You sute have a lot of memories,” Audra commented. Patty nodded her head in agreement. As the ‘newest Losers’ they fit right into the pack. 

Beverly leaned against Ben, her head resting on his shoulder. "It feels like a lifetime ago, but being here with all of you, it's like we've never left."

Mike, the observer, spoke up, his voice filled with warmth. "You know, when I look at all of you, I see strength. We faced unimaginable horrors together, and even though time has passed, that bond is still as strong as ever."

Ben squeezed Beverly's hand, his voice filled with gratitude. "I couldn't agree more, Mike. Each one of you has played a significant role in shaping who I am today. You've taught me the true meaning of friendship and what it means to have a support system you can always count on."

Eddie leaned forward, his eyes meeting Richie's. "And speaking of support systems, Richie, I'm forever grateful for you being there for me, for helping me find the courage to face my fears. You've always been the one to make me laugh, even in the darkest moments."

Richie's eyes softened, his voice quieter than usual. "You know I'd do anything for you, Eds. You're my rock, my better half. I wouldn't be the person I am today without you."

As the night carried on, the Losers continued sharing stories, laughter, and tears. They reminisced about their childhood adventures, the battles they fought, and the scars they carried, both visible and invisible. They spoke of the futures they had built, the challenges they had faced, and the triumphs they had achieved.

As the embers of the campfire flickered and the night grew late, the Losers Club finally stood, their arms wrapped around each other in a tight embrace. They knew it was time to part ways, but the warmth of their connection lingered.

"We always have next year," Bill said softly, his voice carrying the weight of their shared history.

And with those parting words, the Losers Club dispersed, each carrying the memories of that Fourth of July night in their hearts. They knew that no matter where their paths led them, the flame of their friendship would continue to burn bright, guiding them through the darkest of times.

[pdriesta]

a love like this — 4

an — a series of blurbs based on the main couple of "something real". if you're someone that read it, let me know if you have requests <3 this chapter contains smut minors dni

masterlist

the sound of the facetime ringtone filled the empty space of their bedroom as y/n propped her phone against a pillow, settling into the plush covers of their shared bed. she smiled softly when jude’s face appeared on the screen, his curls tousled and his expression immediately brightening at the sight of her

“hey, love,” he murmured, his voice a little rough, clearly exhausted but still happy to see her.

“hey,” y/n replied softly, the warmth in her gaze making his chest ache. “you look tired. long day?”

“yeah,” he sighed, shifting until he was lying down, his head resting against a hotel pillow that was nowhere near as comfortable as the ones back home. “training’s been intense. gareth’s pushing us hard, but it’s good, you know? we need to be in top shape for the knockouts.”

she nodded, her fingers playing with the edge of the comforter absentmindedly. “i know you’ll do well. you always do.”

he gave her a small, grateful smile before his expression softened. “but enough about me. tell me about your day. what have you been up to?”

y/n let out a small laugh, sinking further into the bed, trying to get comfortable in the vast space that felt far too empty without him beside her. “well… your mom and i have been hanging out a lot. we have sleepovers where we camp out downstairs.”

jude raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. “sleepovers?”

“yeah, she’s been introducing me to harry potter,” she said, smiling a little as she recalled how animated her friend had been, explaining every little detail about the wizarding world. “we’re almost through the series now.”

“no way,” jude chuckled, a little incredulous. “and you’re actually watching them? you always said they looked boring.”

“well, she’s very persuasive,” y/n teased, raising her brows pointedly, and jude laughed, the sound warm and familiar, making her heart squeeze. “plus, it’s fun seeing her get all excited.”

“still,” he murmured, a playful pout forming on his lips, “wish i could be there watching them with you. those movie nights were supposed to be ours.”

“well, you’re busy winning games and making your country proud,” she said softly, her smile turning gentle. “and besides, it’s not like denise is always around. i’m still mostly working.”

“yeah, i bet the lads love that,” jude muttered, his expression darkening slightly. “getting to see you every day when i can’t.”

y/n bit back a grin, recognizing the jealousy simmering in his tone. “oh, so that’s what this is about? you’re jealous of a bunch of injured players?”

“damn right, i am,” he said, his gaze narrowing playfully. “they get to see you in person, talk to you… while i’m stuck over here, staring at a screen.”

“jude…” she sighed softly, her expression softening as she adjusted the phone so he could see more of her, the soft curve of her body under the sheets. “it’s not the same. trust me.”

“still,” he grumbled, his lips twitching into a reluctant smile. “you’ve got to admit, it’s not fair.”

she shook her head, laughing softly. “i promise, i miss you more than they ever could.”

“you better,” he teased, the tension easing as he watched her settle back into the pillows. “so… how’s work been?”

“busy,” she admitted, tucking a loose braid behind her ear. “rehabbing the players is a lot more challenging than i thought. they’re all so impatient, and half the time, i feel like a babysitter trying to keep them from pushing themselves too hard.”

jude’s smile turned fond. “sounds like you’re doing great.”

“thanks,” she murmured, her eyes softening. “but i’m counting down the days till i can see you. i should be able to come out to germany in a few weeks, if everything goes smoothly.”

his entire face lit up at that, his grin wide and boyish. “for real?”

“yeah,” she laughed, her heart warming at his reaction. “you think i’d miss a chance to see you play?”

“god, i can’t wait,” he breathed, his voice low, reverent. “it’s been way too long.”

the mood shifted slightly, a subtle change that made the air between them buzz with a different kind of energy. y/n shifted under the covers, feeling the weight of his gaze even through the screen.

“so…” he started slowly, his tone casual but his eyes holding a glimmer of something else. “if you’ve been doing all that, then… why haven’t you sent me any photos?”

y/n blinked, confused. “photos? i’ve sent you loads, jude. i even sent you pictures of the new cafe i went to with jobe and the ones of denise and me shopping—”

“not those photos,” he cut in, his gaze intent, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

it took her a second, but then the realization hit, and a slow, mischievous smile spread across her face. “ohhh,” she murmured, raising an eyebrow. “those photos.”

“yeah, those photos,” he echoed, his voice dropping lower, rougher. “you didn’t send me any.”

“are you telling me you’ve been missing me that much, jude?” she teased, feeling a rush of satisfaction at the way his expression tightened, his jaw clenching slightly.

“of course, i have,” he muttered, his voice strained. “you think i’d be practically begging my beautiful girl for nudes if i wasn’t?”

she giggled, a soft, breathy sound that made his stomach tighten. “aw, poor baby,” she cooed, her tone laced with mock sympathy. “you’ve been thinking about me all day, huh?”

“don’t tease,” he warned, his gaze darkening as he shifted on the bed, his shirt ruffling slightly. “you have no idea, y/n. the entire day… i’ve been wishing i could be there with you. wishing i could touch you.”

her breath caught, the intensity in his voice sending a shiver down her spine. “jude…”

“yeah, love?” he murmured, his eyes locked onto hers through the screen, his gaze heated. “you missing me too?”

“you know i am,” she whispered, shifting slightly under the sheets, suddenly feeling the fabric of her sleep shorts like a barrier, too constricting. “this bed… this house… it’s so big without you. it’s just me, alone, wishing you were here.”

“fuck,” he breathed, his hand running through his hair in frustration. “you have no idea how much i want you right now.”

“then show me,” she whispered, her tone daring, her heart pounding. “show me how much you want me, jude.”

he groaned softly, his gaze dark with desire. “are you alone?”

“completely,” she whispered, her voice low, breathless. “no one’s around. just me and this empty bed.”

“good,” he murmured, his eyes roaming over her slowly. “take off your shirt, baby. let me see you.”

y/n hesitated only for a second before her hands moved to the hem of her tank top, lifting it over her head in one smooth motion. jude’s gaze heated as she revealed herself, his breathing growing heavier.

“fuck, you’re beautiful,” he muttered, his voice rough. “i miss touching you, kissing you… god, i’d give anything to be there right now.”

“me too,” she whispered, her hands skimming over her bare skin, imagining they were his. “it’s not the same, jude… my fingers aren’t as big as yours. they don’t feel as good.”

“i know, baby, i know,” he murmured, his voice thick with frustration. “but i promise, when i see you again… i’ll make up for it. i’ll take care of you, just the way you like.”

her breath hitched, a soft moan escaping her lips. “promise?”

“promise,” he whispered, his eyes blazing with need. “the entire day, y/n… all i’ve been able to think about is being inside you.”

her breath hitched, his words sending a shiver down her spine, making the ache between her legs intensify. she bit her lip, unable to hold back the soft moan that escaped. “jude…”

“that’s it, baby.” he murmured, his gaze fixed on her through the screen, almost as if he were physically there. “keep going… let me hear you. pretend i’m there, touching you, making you feel good

her heart pounded wildly as she slipped a hand beneath the waistband of her shorts, the material sliding down her thighs slowly, teasingly. the cool air of the room met her heated skin, and she could practically feel jude’s frustration through the phone, his fingers flexing with the urge to reach through and touch her himself.

“jude…” she breathed again, letting his name fall from her lips in a soft, needy sigh.

“fuck, baby, say my name again,” he rasped, shifting slightly, and she could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched as he watched her. “let me know how much you miss me.”

“i miss you so much,” she whispered, her fingers brushing lightly against her core, a whimper escaping at the contact. “i miss your hands… your mouth… everything. it’s not the same without you.”

“yeah?” he breathed, his voice low and rough, his eyes glued to her movements. “tell me what you’re doing, love.”

“i’m…” she hesitated, her cheeks flushing, but the heat in his gaze spurred her on. “i’m touching myself, jude. wishing it was you instead.”

“god, y/n,” he groaned, his hand moving off-screen, and she knew he was palming himself through his shorts, trying to keep control. “i’d give anything to be there right now. to slide inside you, feel how wet you are… i bet you’re soaked, aren’t you?”

she nodded, biting her lip to keep from moaning too loudly. “so wet,” she whispered, her fingers circling slowly, building a rhythm that made her hips shift involuntarily. “just for you.”

“show me, baby,” he demanded softly, his eyes burning. “let me see how pretty you look when you touch yourself.”

her breath caught, but she moved the camera lower, angling it so he had a perfect view of her hand between her legs. his sharp intake of breath was audible, and it sent a rush of pleasure through her, knowing how much she was affecting him even from miles away.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice tight with restraint. “look at you… so perfect, love. keep going, just like that.”

her fingers moved faster, every slick movement accompanied by soft, breathy moans that had jude’s expression tightening, his hand moving out of sight now as he struggled to keep his composure. “i wish it was you,” she whimpered, her voice strained. “wish you were filling me up, jude. i—i can’t… it’s not enough…”

“i know, baby, i know,” he groaned, his tone low and desperate. “but you have to keep going for me, yeah? just imagine it’s me. pretend my fingers are inside you… pretend i’m stretching you out, making you feel good.”

“it’s not the same,” she gasped, her back arching as she chased the release she craved. “your fingers are… so much bigger… you—oh, god, jude, i need—”

“i know, love,” he murmured, his gaze dark, intense. “but you’re doing so good for me. i promise, when i get home, i’ll take care of you. i’ll make you feel so good, i swear.”

“promise?” she breathed, her voice trembling.

“promise,” he repeated, his voice a rough whisper. “i’ll kiss every inch of you, make you come as many times as you want, and then… then i’ll slide inside you and make you forget everything else.”

the image sent a wave of heat crashing over her, and she moaned his name, her head falling back against the pillow as her fingers moved faster, more desperately. “jude… jude…”

“yeah, love, just like that,” he encouraged, his voice strained. “come for me. let me hear you.”

and when she finally shattered, her cry of release soft but raw, it was his name that fell from her lips, the sound echoing through the empty room as she trembled, riding out the waves of pleasure.

when she opened her eyes, breathless and flushed, jude was staring at her, his expression tight, his chest heaving.

“fuck,” he muttered, his voice low, reverent. “you’re so fucking gorgeous, y/n. i wish i could hold you right now.”

“me too,” she whispered, her heart still racing, the longing for him even more intense now. “it’s not the same without you.”

“i know,” he murmured, his eyes softening, full of warmth and love. “but it won’t be long now. just a few more weeks, and we’ll be together again. i’ll take care of you properly then.”

she smiled, the ache in her chest easing slightly. “i’ll hold you to that.”

“you better,” he teased softly, his grin boyish, and for a moment, it was almost like he was there, lying beside her in their bed, just like always.

they stayed like that for a while, just talking quietly, the intensity fading into something softer, more intimate, until y/n finally felt herself growing drowsy, her body relaxing under his gaze.

“you should get some sleep, love,” jude murmured, his voice gentle. “it’s late.”

“only if you stay on the line,” she whispered, her eyes fluttering shut.

“i’ll stay,” he promised, his tone soft. “i’m not going anywhere.”

and as she drifted off, the sound of his breathing in her ear, y/n felt a sense of comfort wash over her. even if he was far away, even if there was a screen between them, it didn’t matter.

because jude was hers. and he’d always be hers, no matter the distance, no matter the time.

and soon… soon, they’d be together again.

and that night, even miles apart, they found solace in each other—their voices low, desperate, murmured words of love and longing filling the empty spaces until the distance between them didn’t seem so vast. because no matter how far they were, they’d always have this—this connection, this intimacy, this unbreakable bond.

and they knew, without a doubt, that when they were finally reunited, it would be worth every second they spent apart.

© PDRIESTA 2024

taglist — @sinners-98-world @stephiii29 @kcharlyy @landosgirlxoxo @judesthighveins @ilovelifes-world @cinderellawithashoe @imnyt @miniemonie2001 @lunamelona @treble-snot

[soyouthinkucanwrite]

I can be your mirror - Daniel Ricciardo smut!

You feel insecure when you see his ex's instagram and Daniel decides to show you why you don't need to be

Warnings: smut! unprotected sex, low self esteem, etc

You were just chilling in the hotel bed, scrolling through your phone while Daniel finished taking a shower. It was Thursday night in Hungary, and media day was relatively calm (all eyes were still on Max and Lewis, after the whole Silverstone incident).

Your relationship was still new, you guys had just went public a couple months ago, and you liked that you were still discovering things about each other everyday, like how he prefers his eggs in the morning or that small scar under your chin he just noticed yesterday. Yet, some things weren't as fun to find out, like what his exes looked like.

A few fan accounts had started following you, including some F1 WAGs accounts, and you followed some of them back - you wanted to the updated, after all (or at least that's what you told yourself). The thing is, comparisons were inevitable to you - no matter how much you tried to be reasonable, low self esteem was always an issue to you. When a WAGs account posted about Daniel's ex hanging around in the paddock today and how cute her outfit was, you quickly found yourself clicking on the tag and stalking her ig. Perfect. Fucking perfect. You just have to set your own heartbreak up, don’t you? If at least you could let life do that, but no, you had to go and fall for the guy with the instagram models as his exes. You smiled ironically to yourself.

"Did you see Max shutting down that reporter on the press conference today?" Daniel said walking out of the bathroom with a towel wrapped around his torso and another drying his hair. You quickly locked your phone and looked up, startled like a kid caught with their hands on the cookie jar.

"Hum?" you asked him.

“What were you looking at?” he grinned you, throwing himself on the bed and sitting by your side.

“Nothing” you answered quickly, looking away.

“Don’t be like that. Tell me” he asked again, nudging you with his head.

“It’s nothing Dan, just silly old instagram”

“You wanna know one of the things I love most about you?” He asked before continuing. “You don’t really have filters. And even when you try to hide what you’re thinking, your face and body gives you away” He said. “That’s why you’re so perfect, you’re genuine” he touched your nose with his. “Let’s be honest with each other. Tell me what’s going on in there” Then he tried to lighten the mood saying "Can't be shirtless pictures of me that got you smirking, cause here I am in the flesh for you" you rolled your eyes but smiled at him.

“I’m laughing at myself” You said and he just looked at you, waiting for you to continue. “I’m setting myself up for heartbreak, more and more, and it’s just like me”

“What you’re talking about?”

“Please don’t say it’s stupid” you said before continuing. “You’re like, a rock star… fast cars, VIP, supermodels… these stuff are routine for you, you have the most interesting life. And you could have any girl. And your exes are like movie stars, fucking supermodels, and I'm not sure how much longer till you realize that and just, you know” you said gesturing to yourself and waving your fingers in front of your throat like who says 'abort mission'.

"I should know better, I really should and this might be nothing, but the deeper we get in this, the harder it's to wrap my own head around it and it’s so stupid, but how can anyone compete with that?” You weren’t making any sense, you knew and he was looking at you with his eyebrows raised and lips pressed, like he was holding a smile. “I’m rambling, forget I said anything it's so stupid” You said hiding your face behind your hand.

“I thought you said it wasn’t stupid” He said opening up a smirk and you opened your fingers to look at him. He pulled your hand down. “But you’re right, it is fucking stupid, because there’s no competing with you. I don’t care if I have to repeat that a thousand times for you to believe me, I mean…you had to have a flaw, huh?” You turned your head to the side. “This insecurity of yours, that you’re not good enough, it’s just the most crazy thing ever. Because I feel exactly the same. I’m the one that’s not good enough for you. You’re so smart, and good and you actually do good in the world. I’m just the lucky bastard that got picked to drive in circles around the world”

“You know that’s bullshit” You said.

“I’m serious. This whole stuff, fame, whatever… doesn’t mean anything. It’s just not real. I’m glad I realized that when I did” you were watching him intently. “Racing, challenging myself, working with the team, you... what we have, those are the stuff that are real to me, what really matters".

"Okay" you nodded agreeing.

"If you must to know, the reason why I didn’t work out with anybody else, it’s because we were never more than fuck buddies. Those girls are great fun, but they're more worried about showing than being, you know? And I’m not really interested in talking about them because it doesn’t mean anything, but I’ll tell you anything you ask me” You were dying to ask him more, to know every little details and to learn from their mistakes, but you knew you’d become obsessed with comparing yourself to them and didn’t he just tell you he wasn’t interest in anything about it?

“Sorry” you said quietly.

“What for?”

“Being a nag. Killing the mood” he smiled.

“Don’t-” “you-” “dare-” He kissed your face in between every word. “apologizing-” “for-” “your-” “feelings” he pulled away and looked at you. “Specially not to me. I meant it, let’s be honest, huh?” you nodded smiling back at him. “And if I’m ever a dick, please tell me before screw things up. This is not nothing, okay?”

“Okay”

“And I’m flattered you think I could have any girl” he said grinning. “I mean, I AM pretty hot, but-”

“Shut up. You know I’m right”

“Maybe any girl who cares about that stuff, and my amazing six pack” he says laughing and kissing you.

“And hard butts” you replied laughing and reaching to squeeze his, playfully.

“And hard butts” he agreed, rolling so he was on top of you.

“Those girls are usually the hottest”

“Do you honestly don’t have a mirror at home?” he said pulling away slightly from you. “It’s okay baby” he said in your ear, lifting your shirt over your head, then nibbling at your earlobe, making you moan. “I can be your mirror” he said in a low voice, taking your hands over your head and pinning them with his own.

Then he used his knees to push your legs apart. You were following his face, trying to kiss his mouth but he was holding you down, his lips barely touching your skin now, him hovering over your neck, your collarbone, your exposed breasts. You were squirming now, trying to get some release. He just wouldn’t let you have any yet.

“You have the most amazing skin” he begin saying. “So soft” he looked up to you, you had your eyes closed now. “The most amazing boobs. Fucking perfect tits, so round… and these perking nipples, so hard when you’re turned on” his lips touched your breasts lightly, barely.

“Your hair always smells so good, it’s the perfect frame for your perfect face” He went up again and kissed your lips, biting them lightly and dragging them out. “I love your lips, I love how plumped they are. I’m kind of jealous actually” he chuckled and you opened your eyes rolling them. “And those eyes. Fuck, I know it’s the first thing anyone notices about you, isn’t it? Are you sick of it by now? So big and green. I love seeing them rolling back when you come” he brought one hand down, pulling your pijama pants down and holding both of your hands up with only one of his. “I’m getting there in a minute” he said grabbing your pussy. “I just want to tell you about your ass first” he said sliding his hand through your hips until he reached your ass, grabbing it then releasing to give it a slap. You let out a yelp. “You in the mood for a little rough love?” he slapped you again and you smiled through your moan, this is so hot. And the best part of it was that no one else knew this side of his, just you. It's petty yeah, but you decided to indulge yourself in that thought.

“I love your ass, I swear I was trying to be respectful today, but you were such a tease, on those little shorts, made me hard as soon as you walked in the paddock” he went down to suck your left boob in his mouth and you were so sensitive you couldn’t help but moan, loudly. “Yeah baby, let me hear you. Let everyone hear you” He said releasing your boob and nibbling at it. “I saw how the guys were staring at your ass today. Fuckers, couldn’t help themselves. Let them stare…as long as they know who you belong to” he said leaning down to suck on your other boob. “Tell me who you belong to” his voice was so low.

“Uh…you” You were a moaning mess.

“Huh?”

“You, Daniel! I’m yours”

“That’s right”

“Please” you begged.

“What is it? What you what baby?” he whispered against your skin.

“Touch me, please”

“But I am touching you baby” he said and you heard the smirk in his voice. “Oh, I see what you mean… you want me to touch your pussy?”

“Yeah” you nodded. At the same time this was torture, it felt so, so good.

“This fucking perfect cunt of yours” he said sliding two fingers through your lips and opening them to spread you to him, you were soaking wet and pulsating, clenching around nothing. “Fuck, look at this” He said almost to himself, licking his lips. Then he slid his fingers in, curling them up, making a ‘come here’ motion. He dipped his head down, kissing the inside of your leg, then right over your clit, taking it in between his lips and sucking. You moaned loudly. “Oh sorry baby… you wanted it rough, huh?” he sucked your clit harder, then bit on it lightly. You could scream at how much pleasure he was giving you.

“Fuck! Oh my god Dan” He started to tease you with another finger meanwhile.

“Think you can take another one?” his words sending vibrations against you and making you forget how to form words. “I know you can, you take me so well. Such a good girl for me” he inserted another finger and started to pump them in and out of you faster. “So fucking tight. Can’t wait to feel you around me. That’s my favorite place you know? Buried deep inside your cunt” that was it, you came, hard. Arching your back and hips, Daniel releasing your hands to push you down and hold you there while you came and he kept sucking and licking and biting your clit. You couldn’t take anymore, you pushed him away, pulling his hair.

“Can’t-” You tried to say. “Dan”

“Yes, you can. Come here” He said pulling away and lifting you, dragging you out of the bed and into the bathroom, the rest of your clothes and his towel getting lost in the way. He pushed you against the sink, pulling your face up, making you look at yourself on the mirror. He was pressing against you from behind, his cock leaking in between your legs. “I want you to see what I see” he said staring at you through the mirror. “Gonna fuck you so good, you don’t ever forget how fucking perfect you are” and with that he slammed inside you. “Fucking-” he had one hand on your hair and the other around you, between your folders, massaging your clit. “Fucking heaven, taking me so good”

“Ah Dan” You screamed. He started to fuck you hard and fast, pushing you against the sink. You lifted your head and looked at the mirror, it was the most erotic thing you’ve ever seen. Daniel was dripping sweat, thrusting with perfect precision. His eyes were locked on yours and you knew he was as close as you. The thought of how deep the connection between you were at that moment made you clench again and he lost it, giving you one final thrust and a guttural groan. You came again, shaking more than ever, the feeling too much this time. “I can’t-” You tried to say again. “Too much-” Squeezing him over and over, so he pulled out, still spilling, making a mess over your legs and on the bathroom floor. He was still holding you though.

“I’m right here baby. Right here” He whispered on you ear from behind. You both were riding out your orgasms, rocking slightly, your body leaned on the sink, pressing your boobs against it, and he leaning over you, breathing hard.

After you both calmed down, you tried to move but his weight was too much. You let out a weak laugh and he moved. “Sorry” he said kissing your back. When you got up, you turned to him and kissed him lightly.

“You are-” You said against his lips “amazing”. And kissed him again, lovinly. “Thank you. You make me feel so good, Daniel. Let me take care of you now”

Daniel's POV

This woman is trying to kill me. “Baby I don’t think I have it in me-” “Not like that” she smiled. “I meant with a bath” she said gesturing to the bathtub.

“Yes, please” I said already opening the tap and letting the water run. She went back to the room and returned with a water bottle, taking a sip before passing it to me. I took it from her hand and almost finished it, before giving it back to her.

“Do they have any bubbles? Bath salts?” she asked.

“Hum…I don’t think so, baby” I answered looking around on the sink.

“That’s fine” she smiled, getting in the tub and motioning for me to sit in between her legs. Her hair was up in a knot, but some of it was clinging to her neck due to the sweat. She was so beautiful, I can’t believe she wants me.

“You don’t want me to stay behind you?” she shook her head smiling and I did as she asked, leaning on her. The tap was still running, filling the tub with hot water, while we two of us just soaked in there, relaxing. “This is nice,” I said while she ran her hands through my hair. When the tub was full enough, she turned off the water and applied some body wash on my skin, running her hand over my back and shoulders, it felt so good, so comfortable, like I didn’t have a worry in the world. Then I washed her legs around me, kissing her feet and calves and making her giggle. She kept massaging my shoulders. We stayed there for good while, half an hour? More or less? There’s nothing else in the world other than this bathroom anyway, so who cares?

“Can we stay here forever?” She asked me after a while, kissing behind my neck. I just hummed in response. “Actually, scratch that. I’m getting hungry. And thirsty”

“The limitations of the human body” I said jokingly but got out of the tub after a few minutes. If m’lady wants to eat, I’m getting her food. I dried myself, wrapping a towel around me and holding hers open for her to step out of the tub.

We went back to the room, she picked her clothes from the floor and put them away in her travel bag back inside the closet. I watched as she got a fresh pair of underwear and a clean bra, while I put on boxers and sweatpants. She wore some leggings that hugged her ass perfectly, what a view. I noticed her going through her bag, probably looking for a shirt but I just wanted her to wear some clothing of mine, so I took the hoodie I was going to wear and passed it to her. She smiled and accepted it, it looked oversized on her and covered her ass, but maybe that’s a good thing, I don’t need anyone thirsting over what’s mine, I don’t care how much of a prick that makes me sound.

"Do you wanna order or go out to eat?" I asked her.

"Let's just go downstairs, to the restaurant?"

"Yeah, that's fine" I say and peck her lips.

I put on a sweatshirt, and hold the door open for her. We walk out and the temperature was a bit colder out here in the hallway (or maybe it was just too hot inside the room), so I just take her hand and intertwine our fingers, passing my arms around her and holding her closer. I just love that I can do that whenever I want.

And I plan on doing that for the rest of my life.

[egcdeath]

act natural

pairing: steve rogers x reader

summary: sometimes, you just have to share the bed. 

word count: 2.4k

warnings: fluff, sharing a bed, idiots in love, cheesy

a/n: this is really just an excuse for me to write a lot of self indulgent bants, but it’s also a part of @stargazingfangirl18’s soft!dark challenge, and i decided to write something soft and use the prompt of only having one bed! (p.s. i like did not edit this at all so if a few words are used a lot pls forgive me) 

Dinner at the safehouse was finally wrapping up after a long day of getting your ass beat by an angry android and a few enhanced teenagers. You and everyone else around you seemed to be more than exhausted from the extensive day of revisiting deeply repressed traumas, and petty arguments between teammates over who was truly at fault for every predicament you found yourselves in.

You took a long and final swig from a beer bottle, glancing up to Bruce and Nat as they stood up and pushed in their chairs, retiring for the night. 

“Thanks for hosting us, Laura,” Natasha offered, grabbing her plate from the dinner table, and dropping it off in the dishwasher.

“Of course, guys. Any time,” she gave a half smile to her friend, then looked back at the table, where everyone else had taken the memo, and found themselves somewhere in the process of leaving the table, or grabbing their dishes, “but before you all go, I wanted to warn you that someone else is gonna have to share a room tonight.”

You glanced over at Steve, who was on your left, and Tony, who was sat at the head of the table. You and Steve shared an awkward chuckle at the thought of being in the same bed, not even considering the similarly uncomfortable situation of sharing a bed with Tony. 

“I think I’ll be rooming alone. These two lovebirds can share,” Tony chided before either of you even had a chance to think of a response. You looked back over at Steve, whose cheeks were currently dusted with a light shade of pink, and the bigger man quickly looked away from you.

“Tony, you know we are not- you know what, nevermind,” you huffed, deciding the argument was not worth it. 

Tony shook his head as he dropped his dishes off in the dishwasher. “So no objections?” he asked teasingly, eyeing you both with a smirk on his way back from the kitchen. “Why am I not surprised?” You could’ve sworn you heard Clint and Fury laughing to themselves before excusing themselves from the table, and dispursting though the house.

Besides the slight humiliation of being teased for your situation, you weren’t too concerned about the act of spending the night, or next few nights with Steve. You and Steve were friends, or something like that. Just a few pals with crushes that you refused to admit to each other (or yourselves).

Pushing this thought aside, you grabbed the neck of your empty beer bottle, along with a few pieces of silverware and marched off to the mechanical cleaner yourself. You dropped off the things that needed to be cleaned, tossed your bottle in the recycling bin, then went to turn away when Steve grabbed your arm, automatically catching your attention. 

“Is this okay with you?” He asked, letting his vice grip on your arm go.

“It’s fine. I’ll see you upstairs,” you muttered before speeding off, and heading upstairs where you strolled into the only vacant room, with the door wide open, and both your own and Steve’s duffle bags on the floor. 

You made a mental note to thank whoever brought them in (probably Laura), and dug through your bag to find something even slightly comfortable to sleep in, eventually settling on an oversized shirt and your favorite cotton shorts. 

You had just barely finished changing in the tiny closet when you heard the soft click of the room door, notifying you of Steve’s arrival. You slid open the closet door, and made a beeline for the bed, flopping onto the left side, and reaching for your phone as a distraction. 

“Do you want me to sleep on the floor?” Steve asked, searching through his own bag until he found the only clean comfortable pair of pants he had in there, that just happened to be a jokey Christmas gift donned with a red white and blue color scheme, and graphics of mini shields on it.  

“What the hell, Steve. Of course not,” you set your phone down so that you could get a better look at him. “We probably have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.” You could live with that excuse, especially considering that it would not be very becoming of you to tell your crush that missing an opportunity to sleep in the same bed as him feels like a federal crime. 

He stood up from his squatting position, squeezing into the tight space of the closet so that he could change into the corny pants, and finally get out of his clothes from the day, “I just didn’t want to make things weird.”

“Well, they won’t be as long as you stay on your side, okay?” You said petulantly, setting two pillows across the middle of the queen sized bed and attempting to ignore the excited butterflies in your stomach. 

“I will,” Steve responded, exiting the closet slipping into the right side of the bed cautiously, and looking at the wall that was facing him.

You glanced over at Steve, and when you caught wind of his shirtless torso, you couldn’t help but to look away with a warm face,“this is so awkward now,” you said after a beat. “Why couldn’t you have roomed with Tony?”

“Tony is the worst bed mate ever. Total blanket and pillow hog,” Steve chuckled, attempting to ease up some of the tension.

“You’re no saint either. I’ve heard you’re a cuddler,” you bantered back, allowing yourself one more glance at the man. Steve seemed to be having the same thought as you at the same time as you, as your eyes briefly met. 

It was uncomfortably silent in the room once more, and you reached over to your nightstand to turn off the bedside lamp, “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Night, Steve,” you turned your back to the border of pillows, fell into a fetal position, and squeezed your eyes shut, hoping that you’d be able to find some sort of peace after such a bizarre day. You tried not to dwell so much on the horrors you’d been forced to face earlier, and instead relied on the rhythmic breathing coming from the man next to you to ground you.

----

You weren’t sure when exactly you fell asleep, but a jolting of your bed, and a bit of a commotion coming from somewhere in your room pulled you away from your unsettling dreams.

Blinking yourself awake, you uncurled your body, and rolled over to look at Steve, whose legs were thrown over the edge of the bed while he panted heavily.

“Steve?” you slurred sleepily, “you ‘kay?”

“’m fine,” he yawned.

“Well you woke me up,” you mumbled, throwing your head back against a pillow.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I was having a shitty dream anyway.”

“Really? I was too,” Steve refused to look at you, staring blankly at the wall.

“So tell me about it,” you hummed.

“It’s just… I keep thinking about how I missed out on so many things from the past. I could’ve been happy, living out my days in a semi-peaceful and familiar world. Not anything like this.”

You sat up as you listened, pushing aside a pillow from the border you’d constructed to move closer to Steve and set a reassuring hand on his back.

“I guess I just wish that I was there. With everyone and everything I used to know.”

“But it’s not all bad, right?” you offered, and Steve shrugged before looking down. 

 “I’m sorry. I really am. I know that I’ll never truly understand that, but there’s nothing any of us can do about it now. You’re here now, and you have no other choice but to make the best of it. I know you probably don’t want to hear this, but if you spend all of your time in the present lamenting about what things could’ve been in the past, you’re just gonna be miserable forever,” you rambled sleepily, words slurring occasionally. 

“Your experience is so unique, so I could be getting this all wrong, but there are plenty of good things here in the now. I mean, a world without the internet? I don’t know if that’s a world worth living in,” you chuckled softly, and were joined in your quiet laughter by the man on the other side of your bed.

“Seriously, though. I know you can’t control your dreams, but maybe your subconscious is letting you know that it’s okay to let go. Of like, the past. It might just be time for you to move on and be happy. I’m sure that Peggy and everyone else from your past would’ve wanted that for you too.” In the dark, you saw the silhouette of Steve’s head nodding. 

“You always know what to say, huh?” he asked, kicking his legs back over onto the bed while you scooted back over into your previous space. 

“I’m like half asleep right now, Steve. If you asked me to repeat half of what I just said, I would not know what to say,” you giggled. 

“You wanna talk about your dream?” Steve asked in a concerned tone. 

“Mmm, I actually just wanna go to sleep. As crazy as that may sound,” 

“Is there anything that I can do to help you not have another bad one?”

“Hmmm,” you pondered, becoming a bit more lethargic by the moment. “Spoon me?”

“As you wish,” Steve happily obliged, grabbing one of the pillows from the middle of the bed and adding it to his stash of pillows. 

You threw a pillow from the border between your knees, and received a strange look from Steve. “What? I heard it’s good for your back.” He still didn’t seem convinced. “Stop being so judgy and cuddle me already,” you murmured, turning your body so that you could lay on your side.

Steve scooted closer to you, and you pressed your back to the front of his chest. He tossed an arm over you and somehow managed to pull you even closer to him. You swore you hadn’t been this comfortable since you left the womb, and you nearly purred in response. 

“Can I make a request?” he asked.

You simply nodded.

“Can we just… talk until we fall back asleep?” 

“That’s really cute,” you mumbled into your pillow. 

“You just have a relaxing voice!” he defended playfully.

“You are such a dork,” you giggled. “What do you want to talk about?”

“Just tell me about… I dunno, anything.”

“That was so helpful, Steven.”

“My bad. Tell me about your favorite… mission?”

“Mm, probably that one time you and I had to go undercover for like a month to bust that arms dealer.”

“Which one?”

“Some dude in the Midwest. Can’t remember his name.”

“Oh yeah, yeah I know who you’re talking about.”

“It was fun being your life partner for a month. We were really good at being domestic.”

“Hmm, now that I think about it, we really were. Do you remember that cookout?”

“Of course I do,” you laughed at the memory. “Everyone else was getting so drunk, but you just… couldn’t. They were like Joseph, you’re such a beast, and shit. And who would’ve guessed that you, the old timer would be such a beast on the grill.”

“Well, who would’ve guessed that you were so good at cornhole?”

“Was I really that good? Or were you just really bad? Like really bad, especially for someone whose skill set revolves around having good aim,” you teased.

Steve scoffed and laughed, shaking his head at you. 

“How didn’t those people recognize us? I just don’t get it.”

“You’d be surprised how much a beard and dyed hair can change your look.”

“I guess,” you sighed softly, and set a hand on top of Steve’s. “Does this feel counterproductive to you? We’re just sitting here giggling. We’re probably getting less tired.”

“I guess I am less tired. But I’m also not thinking about the impending robot apocalypse.”

“Well now that you brought it up, I’m thinking about the impending robot apocalypse. You better fix this, Rogers.” Emboldened by what must’ve been the butterflies in your stomach falling asleep, you began to roll a bit in his arms so you were facing each other, kicking away the pillow between your legs in the process. 

“How can I make it up to you?” Steve asked, raising a brow.

“You’re the man with a plan, right? Think of something,” your lip quirked slightly in a smirk.

Steve leaned in just the smallest amount, before a lightbulb seemed to go off in his head. “I got it. We can do one of those one word stories until we fall asleep.”

Well, that’s not exactly how you thought this moment was going to go. 

“Okay, I’ll start then,” you nodded, pressing your head down against a soft pillow, and looking up at Steve, “once.”

“There,” Steve added.

“Was.”

“A.”

“Death-bot,” you giggled. 

“Okay, Y/N. No. No more stories. We can just listen to each other breathe now until we fall asleep like before since you wanna ruin the mood.”

“What mood? And you listened to me breathe?”

“What else was I gonna listen to?” he furrowed his brows, “it’s too late for this anyway. We can talk in the morning.”

“All you had to do was tell me that it’s way past your bedtime, and I would be understanding. But goodnight anyway, Stevie,” you cracked him one last smile, not budging from your position as you closed your eyes. 

It was silent for a few minutes before Steve whispered up out of the blue, “you still awake?”

You slurred something into the pillow, much more asleep than awake. 

“Well, I really like you a lot. Maybe one day I’ll get the guts to tell you that when you’re not completely out of it.”

You grunted as a response, and Steve couldn’t seem to wipe the grin off his face, not while he was falling asleep, and certainly not during his rather pleasant dreams.

——

You just couldn’t seem to catch a break with your wake up calls. While you and Steve seemed to sleep through the rapping against the door, and the door itself opening, you both seemed to become aware after the artificial shutter of an iPhone camera flooded through your ears.

“You guys just looked so cute, I wanted to archive this moment for the rest of time. And I’m sure the team will be glad to see that you got along well last night,” Nat teased as your eyes widened and you shot up. “Breakfast is ready downstairs, by the way.”

Well, you two were going to have a great time explaining this one. 

[starshipsofstarlord]

Princess | JJ Maybank

Warnings; jealousy, mentions of drugs, and use of drugs.

Find my masterlist here

She was rising through the ranks on figure eight, and soon, she would overtake the one, the only, Sarah Cameron. It was infuriating, no one had heard of this prissy girl in a while, and here she was, already beginning to replace the blonde.

“Uh.” Sarah groaned, noticing how even her brother was flocking over you, even Topper had returned to the dark side after his helpful stunt.

“What’s wrong Cameron?” JJ asked her, following her eyeline, and carrying his gaze along it, until he found the centre of her irritable - a group of kooks, her own.

“The princess is back in town.” She groaned, noticing how you walked through your entourage, oblivious to any of the pogues that resided on this side of the island. It was as though you didn’t hold a grudge against their species, but that was her thing, you were just trying to copy her actions.

Hell, for all she knew, you’d hook up with a southsider too, and attend the parties at the boneyard as though you were one of their own.

She knew her attitude towards you was petty, but she just couldn’t help it. You now had everything that she had lost, she was even stared down by her dad and step mother, both of whom were mildly disappointed in the side that she had taken within the whole ordeal.

“I thought that was you.” JJ noticed how her mood had turned sour, and he was aware that it was his duty to cheer her up. If John B returned with their drinks, and saw that his girlfriend was displeased, he would be the one to take the blame as it was his company that was keeping her from boredom.

“That girl.” She pointed you out, JJ’s eyes scanning every dip and curve, each mark and mole, upon your body, memorising every inch of- “is the kook. Used to have the mantle of princess before I did. Don’t dirty your hands with her Maybank, she’s a spoilt brat, and whatever she wants, she gets.”

“A kook? Not my type.” He assured her, the whole form of your beautiful being crumbling in his eyes, all because of what you essentially were. A golden finger, in the dirt of his home.

🏹

The Cameron’s house was large, but you smiled, knowing that you lived in one with a bigger foundation, and more floors. Material items were value on the island, it gave way to status.

“Hi Mr Cameron.” You greeted him, with a pristine smile that would knock him dead. Rafe was beside you, content with your obliviousness to the things that he had done.

His father had told him to find a rich, pretty thing. They were the least suspecting ones, too occupied with spending cash and dolling themselves up. It is what he himself had done, after he had worked his way up to kook status, but the wife he now had, well she was as devious and power hungry as him. They fit perfectly.

“Nice to finally meet you y/n, I’ve heard a lot about you, not only from my son but practically the whole island. Is it good to be back?” He shook your hand, noticing the small smile slip onto his son’s face.

“It’s great, nowhere is quite like home.” The hierarchy on Outer Banks was its most predominant feature, no where else quite had an order that lacked most of itself in the same way.

“I need to talk to Rafe here for a moment, would you mind waiting here?” He expectedly asked, and once more, you could only plaster on a false expression, and happily nod.

“Not at all.” Was your reply, and as soon as they had disappeared, you were left awaiting for their return. You plucked at the skin around your nails, and tapped your foot, trying to reduce the enveloping silence that made you feel small and anxious.

Another person entered the room, making you slowly spin to greet them. It was Sarah, and a look of worry crossed over her face, it was quite amusing. The Sarah Cameron, was concerned for you.

“Rafe isn’t a good guy.” She spoke slowly, thinking that you were interested in her older sibling. It made you quirk your eyebrow in surprise, you had never expected her to talk about her family to you, or at all in general. “You can do a lot better.”

“Don’t worry Sarah, I don’t want him, nor do I want to be the so called ‘princess’ of this wealthy establishment. I hate figure eight, it sucks. It’s boring, it’s just parties here, and parties there, but they’re all sophisticated and you have to dress nicely. Sure, the luxury is great, the expectations of washing your hair every day, wearing perfume that literally burns my eyes, and having to dress so- ugh, it’s just gross. You can take the throne back if you want, it’s not too comfortable, it squeezes me in all th wrong places.”

Your paragraph of speech left Sarah in shock, you had been faking it all along. The laughs were all pretend, the smiles were all forced, and she no doubt had one thing left on my mind. “Then why, out of all the kooks, are you hanging it with my brother?”

Nonchantly you shrugged, a sparkle flaring in your eyes. “He thinks he’s gonna get laid, and so until he realises that he isn’t, and he can’t touch this hot bod, then I get free weed.”

“Well played y/l/n, well played.” Nobody had used Rafe and had to give nothing in return, yet you had found the perfect trick.

“He also thinks I’m a virgin, sooooo, my contract is going to last a while, I suppose.” She almost laughed at that, she wondered how you had given him that impression in the first place. Before you had moved, she had seen you makeout and consentually grope countless guys, leading them to dark corners and your empty car.

It wasn’t something that she had ever admit, but for the first time in her life, she thought that you’d make the perfect friend. You sounded just like a pogue, but instead you were living the ‘high life’, and rolling in the cash and smokes that were thrown your way, with no charge.

🏹

JJ on instinct, creased his face up at the sight of Sarah leaving John B and the others at the boneyard, only to walk over to an intruder. She had told him that she didn’t like her, however her stride and smile supposed otherwise.

“Who’s that?” John B leant over his friend’s shoulder, watching his girlfriend interact with a stranger.

“The kook princess.” JJ informed him, spitting the name out of his mouth, glaring at the kook that had the nerve to once again, walk onto his side of his island. And not only that, but to invite herself to the party.

“She got a name?” John B asked, and that was when JJ realised, that he didn’t know it. Before you had moved, you kept to your side of the island, but the times were changing, with relationships and friendships between pogues and kooks beginning. All you wanted was to be accepted, and if they didn’t like the fact that you were born a kook, then that was most definitely their problem.

“Hey, I’m so glad that you could make it.” Sarah greeted you, you shyly smiled, still not familiar with her being so polite to you. You’d notice her cast you the stink eye on more than one occasion, and how she would speak about you at school in the time prior to your move away.

“I still don’t understand why you invited me.” You honestly said, uncertain by her intentions. If she had other motivations, then you could deal with them, she wouldn’t be the first one to try and challenge you for your position. And either way, you didn’t want it, it were only a weight on your shoulders, but some kooks wanted you to remain their royalty, and so by their reputation, you did.

You pulled a blunt from your shorts pocket, and lit it, inhaling slowly and awaiting an answer from the relaxant. It calmed you, and made the thoughts of being the only kook here, excluding Sarah, go away.

“I want you to meet my friends.” She spoke, and you nodded, more entertained by the smoke that rolled out of your mouth than her intentions. Her hand grabbed your own, and she began to drag you through the sea of people, until she reached a small fire pit, where four people were sat.

You already knew of them, John B being the one on your side of the island the most. It of course was because of Sarah, and her successful attempts to seduce him, and sneak him into her room.

“This is y/n.” She told them, and you didn’t notice the way JJ focused on the weed that hung from the clasp of your fingers. He was surprised by the consumption you had of it, and watched intently as you went in for another puff.

You weren’t just a kook, you were a stoner. Perhaps the two of you had something in common after all, maybe you weren’t this spoilt brat entirely.

🏹

“Pass me the goddamn lighter J!” You beckoned at the blonde, who held the red automatic match out of your reach. On instinct, you crossed your arms, and poured, causing the boy to laugh.

“Don’t do that, you look like a spoiled kook.” His words only earnt himself a glare, and so he reached down, plucked your blunt between his fingers, and lit it. He took a puff before placing it between your own lips. “Technically we just kissed.”

“Geez, I really am spoilt.” You rolled your eyes, as the pair of you stood out of the chateau, where it was the two of you alone. Everyone else was inside, watching a movie, and they didn’t want to get high off the fumes, instead they’d rather remember the ‘cinematic details’, as Pope put it.

“It was a joke Princess.” He rubbed your head, messing up your hair, but he knew that you didn’t care. Appearances weren’t your most entailed feature, you only dressed up to the nines to please your parents. But here, with him and the rest of your friends, you could be yourself. You weren’t a kook or a pogue, instead you were just y/n.

“You need to stop going on about kissing me Maybank, otherwise I might think that it’s something you actually want to do.” You smirked, noticing how his cheeks reddened slightly, and the normally confident male gulped.

“Well...” before he could say more, you lightly pushed him, but he soon grabbed you, and the blunt out of your mouth. “Maybe I do.”

“Maybe I want you to as well.” You flirted with him, eyes darting between where he was licking his lips, and the blunt that was gently held in the pads of his fingertips. “Tell you what, if I gift you with a kiss, I get my property back.”

“Princess you gotta stop that, you can’t call me your property, I’m a person too babes.” You groaned at that, he knew full well what you were speaking about, but he had to be a tease in every conversation that the pair of you had.

“Shut your mouth pogue.” Your words weren’t what shut him up, instead you grasped the fabric of his baggy, sleeveless shirt, and pulled his mouth to your own, your tongue instantly prying its way towards his own, breaking through the seal of his lips.

Distracted, he dropped the blunt, and cupped both sides of your face. He was in heaven, finally he had given into the kook, and vice versa. He was glad to have learnt your name, and everything that you had to offer.

[aetheternity]

I have a request

Levi's wife y/n and 4 or 5 year old son get kidnapped by kenny and the military police. They get taken to the crystal cave with eren and historia. So when levi comes to save them he is livid and is quickly taking down every mp in his way. Luckily both y/n and her son make it out safely with levi and his squad.

Levi, y/n, and their son have a soft moment and they all hug and give kisses 😚😚😚 and day squad teases them

(I added my own little spin to this where Y/N is playfully argumentative and sometimes wild with Levi. Hope that's ok! I also thought it would be cute if Levi and Y/N’s son was named after Levi’s late friend Farlen.)

"We have more than just Historia and Eren now." Levi grunted, facing Hange. "My son and Y/N were taken as well."

"We can't wait then. We'll leave as soon as possible."

Levi squeezed the paper Hange had given him earlier in his grasp as his squad whooped and hollered behind him. Kenny probably wouldn't kill them, they were insurance after all. Which was that much worse for Levi.

He already knew if he didn't manage to calm himself before they got to Kenny he would lash out recklessly. The one thing he'd told his wife and son to never allow themselves to do.

~~~~

"Oi." Levi stepped closer, concern etched onto his face. His eyebrows scrunched where he looked into his wife's eyes. "If you continue moping around our child's health will be at risk and yours. The doctor already told you that."

She turned, eyes narrowed and lips tight where they were pulled into a frown. "What else am I supposed to feel? The father of my baby is running around dodging death. Am I supposed to be happy Levi?"

Levi rolled his eyes, his hand already coming up to the bridge of his nose in expectation for the upcoming brawl of sorts. "I'll be alive for the birth of our son."

"Will you though?" She stepped closer, challenge rising in her tone and eyes.

"I'm not leaving you or the soon to be kid we've made. And you already know that." He fought back. "I'd sooner go back to the underground."

Her hands ran up to his collar tugging him closer. And he let her, let every bit of fury trapped beneath those stone cold eyes run over his spine like a flash of lightning all with the same neutral expression.

"I'm so serious you wouldn't even believe. If you don't come back one of these days and I have to raise this baby all on my own. I'm gonna bring you back to life just so I can kill you again. Do you hear me Levi Ackerman?"

Levi let out a little huff and a small smirk ran over his lips. She let him go and he straightened out his collar. "You get scarier everyday." He remarked "Way scarier than any damn titan."

He grabbed her wrist, pulling her down the mostly empty corridor. "You saw the doctor again today right? Tell me what happened."

"We've got a healthy Ackerman on our hands. He's grown bigger than he's supposed to be at this stage actually." She smiled softly as she placed a hand on her belly. "Probably cause he has your blood."

"Tch, moron. He's already his mother. Constantly kicking every time I touch your belly. He's gonna be a brat just like you."

"I hope he gets my height and not yours."

"For his sake your height instead of your mouth would be good."

"My mouth has gotten you through many long nights so I wouldn't complain if I were you."

Levi playfully rolled his eyes as Y/N's soft laugh filled the corridor. Her eyes shining brighter than they had her whole pregnancy. It was weird Levi had always heard about new parents being scared but he barely was.

When he'd found out he'd been more surprised than anything but he'd barely even had the time to over analyze the situation until that night. This unbelievably wild girl was the mother of his child. What more could he want.

Fear did dawn on him. Knowing he'd have something new in this world that needed his protection. Something so precious and small to protect. But another part of him knew that kid would be safer if he got his mother's fighting spirit.

"Hey, you better not be thinking about other girls." Y/N huffed as she poked at Levi's forehead.

Levi grabbed her finger. "Dumbass, no one else would be able to handle you if I left."

"Just sounds like you're making excuses so that you don't have to tell me, you adore me and could never find anyone else who brings you this much joy."

"No." That barely even scratched the surface..

~~~~

"Do you have a location on them?" Hange asked

"There're a whole bunch of military police and Kenny's squad is surrounding the entire area. But no sign of Kenny himself or any of the people who were taken." Sasha replied

Levi huffed, brain not wanting to retreat to the worst possible scenario. Besides the conversation currently developing in front of him there was a sort of quiet drifting in the atmosphere.

"We have a plan right?" Armin suddenly asked

And Hange nodded, "You're gonna need these." Her hands clasped around the cool metal of the signal flares.

"Signal flares??" Jean stared in disbelief

"Don't worry, we're getting out of here alive hostages and all." Hange stated before turning to Levi. "They're ok."

Levi blinked, slowly but surely uncurling his fists. He looked around to the others their faces a mix of concern and in certain cases glee. But they all had the same sentiment.

"Put the plan into motion." Levi stood

~~~~

It went surprisingly quickly. From the barrels they'd deployed to the signal flares being shot off. Sasha and Mikasa taking out the military police like no one's business but Levi could already feel his Ackerman rage growing.

Where the hell was Kenny? He thought.

His question was soon answered when a bullet flew past his cheek immediately drawing blood. The next bullet striking an ice pillar with a hard crack as he ducked for cover behind it.

Levi paused repositioning himself to jump and land behind one another of the thick pillars searching for the source of the bullets. "Where the hell are they?" He grunted voice raspy, thick and loud where he called to the only person that would be behind this.

Kenny's laugh was boisterous, heavy where it bounced between each pillar. The amount of sweat that had collected on Levi's palms had his weapon slippery in his grip and the vein in his forehead was close to popping.

"I think you have other things here you should be concerning yourself with."

In the blink of an eye Levi's head shot backwards, Jean's scream mixed with the heart shattering sound of Hange hitting one of the pillars caught his attention. A bullet releasing her blood as she slipped and rolled over against the ground like a discarded toy.

"Tch!"

"Levi! Oi you should be worried about me. After all. Your little family dies by my call!"

If Levi was boiling before his blood was erupting now. With incredible skill and speed he bounced his way around the pillars dodging each bullet as Kenny shot them out. His agility raised as he flipped over Kenny's form and behind him. In an instant Levi was tossing a bag full of flammable liquid in time to meet his next shot.

When the bag tore open Levi flew forward, through burning flames created by Kenny's gun tossing his blade. The motion caught Kenny off guard but he managed to dodge it, his hat flying off into a nearby pillar along with Levi's blade to hold it up there.

Levi's heart was hammering taking the advantage he'd managed to get he flew at Kenny with incredible speed slicing through his torso almost like it was butter. In the heat of adrenaline Levi watched as Kenny's body fell to the ground of the cool cavern.

He landed with a hard breath before retracting the odm gears hooks. He couldn't wait any longer. He couldn't stop himself from running forward no matter how stupid and dangerous it was.

He heard bits and pieces of speech behind him. "Follow Captain!" And "Wait, hold on!" But none of it stopped his feet.

He skidded in his pace as he heard soft calls of, "Dad! Dad!"

And he was immediately headed for it. A bit of relief flooding his chest as he heard the faint sounds of odm gear clanging behind him. His squad clearly keeping good pace.

When he arrived he instantly locked eyes with his five year old son and wife.

"Dad!" Farlen's voice echoed. He didn't look injured from what Levi could tell and neither did Y/N. Farlen's hair tosseled as if he'd merely been running outside.

"Where are Historia and Eren?!" Mikasa called as she ran up behind Levi.

"Guys!" Historia's voice boomed. She slunk forward barely supporting Eren's weight. His shirt gone and his face covered in blood.

Levi quickly ran to untie Y/N and Farlen immediately embracing Farlen when he jumped into his arms. If he were any other kid Levi would probably be questioning why he hadn't shit his pants and why his face was tearless. But he definitely wasn't any other five year old.

"Geez, you guys took forever." Y/N remarked, stretching her hands above her head. "I was about to wreck all these Military brats butts for you." She said with a smirk at Levi.

Levi huffed, rubbing his son's back. "Next time you can save yourself then." He remarked giving Farlen a soft head rub.

"Ugggh Mom.. Dad not now.." he sighed

"There won't be a next time!" Y/N fought back. "I'll never get caught up like that again."

"Tch, whatever."

"Are you challenging me Mr. Ackerman?"

"You're a brat, Ms. Ackerman."

"How about I show you how much of a brat I can really be?" She chuckled with a dark smile etching over her features. She pulled him closer, hugging his and Farlen's form with a firm hand on Levi's lower back.

"Don't start something you can't finish." Levi whispered back.

"Ewwwwww.." Farlen mock gagged between them.

Y/N just laughed loudly. "You'll understand when you have someone you love to hate, Farlen."

"Yeah.. I'm with Farlen. That's eww." Connie remarked with a shake of his head.

The others soon joined in with their own little laughs and teasing words. "I can't believe how soft Captain can be." And "They're such a cute family I hope I get that some day."

Levi repositioned Farlen on one arm ignoring all the chatter. Though his cheeks bloomed a rosy color that was extremely unmistakable "Historia, where's your father?"

"He escaped before you guys got here. He's headed toward the wall." She replied

"We've gotta hurry then."

(I'm so sick of people on the internet rn I swear🙄)

[parkers-gal]

if you knew feelings P.P

wc: 900 (angsty fluffy, good ending)

—

You and Peter had been dating for three weeks. Though it seemed every Avenger was against the idea of teammates being romantically involved (because of some protocol that they said Tony had, which he doesn't), neither of you cared for their opinions.

You liked Peter, despite the contrary to people believing you would have reason not to. He made you feel special and wanted and important, and he made you happier. And he was obviously whipped for you, wrapped around your finger and willing to do anything just to keep you safe. 

So, that's why it was so hard for you to believe you were even in this situation in the first place. 

Peter and you had been cuddling on the couch playing some of his video games when the group of supers had walked in, hands on their hips and stern expressions adorned on their faces. 

"What's up?" you greeted them with a smile. 

"We need to talk," Natasha said, motioning for the two of you to pause the game.

"It's important," Steve said. 

Peter glanced to you before grabbing the remote. "What is it? Is everything alright?"

"We feel it is in our best judgement if we have the two of you.." Steve trailed off, not sure how to word it. 

"You two need to break up," Sam concluded. 

Your expression changed completely, from worried to angry. 

"What the fuck? Why would we do that?"

"For the sake of the team-" Natasha started, but you cut her off. 

"Nat, for the last time! We've been over this! And I talked to Tony -- there's no protocol that you guys are using against us. You're trying to bullshit us in a game you don't know how to play."

"Don't take that tone with us," Steve warned. 

"Or else what? You're gonna make me stop feeling things?" You challenged, unafraid of the consequences. Peter was quiet, drinking in the conversation, not truly believing what was being negotiated. 

"We just think that for the sake of keeping things professional, that you and Peter should not be romantically involved."

"Oh so we can fuck but once feelings get involved it's game over?" 

"Jesus Christ," Bucky whispered. 

"That's not what we mean," Steve tried. 

"Right but that's what you're saying!"

"Nat's right, Y/N," Wanda cut in. "We should keep things professi-"

"Where was that five years ago when Natasha and Bruce were practically eye fucking, huh?"

"That was different!"Bruce defended himself. 

"Oh yeah?" You smirked, laughing sarcastically. "How's that? Is it because Pete and I are younger, is that it?" 

"Yes! Exactly. And because of that, you're naive and we fee-"

"Oh what the fuck do you know about feelings," you snapped at him. 

"I happen to know more than you," Steve said seriously. "There's no discussing, here. You two are over, and that's th-"

"If you knew anything about feelings," Peter's soft, quiet, damp voice cut in, silencing everyone. "then you would know that falling in love isn't a choice." 

Your eyes watered as his public confession, grabbing his hand with a thankful smile. 

"I don't want to know what made Peter cry," Tony's voice spoke up from the speakers. "But we need to talk," he finished, walking towards everyone. 

"Tony! Thank you! Tell the kids that the-" 

"They're not kids, Steve. We have no control over what they do and who they involve themselves with. They're both over eighteen, and we need to respect that," he concluded, sending you a quick wink. 

"Tony.." Natasha started. "You know we love you, but don't you feel it'd be better if the kids just di-"

"Look at it this way: at least now, they don't have to keep secrets from any non-Avenger; they don't have to lie about anything, and they can confide in each other for work related problems. And honestly?" He glanced to the two of you, "I think they're really good together."

You let out an exhale of relief, Peter squeezing your hand reassuringly. 

"Of course you'd side with the kids," Steve breathed out, annoyed and irritated. Natasha crossed her arms across her chest, nodding in agreement. 

"What the fuck does that mean?" Tony challenged. 

"I mean- ever since you and Pepper started working together and dating, shit has just been down the hill with the rules."

"I will have you know," Tony stood, chest practically against Steve's, "That she owns this building, and I have no problem escorting anybody who has an issue with her or us."

"It just makes sense," Bruce concluded. 

"Okay you know what?" you stood up, bringing Peter with you, hands still linked. "You can fight all you want about this, but I am not, for the life of me, ever going to stop seeing Peter. I can't stop seeing Peter because I can't stop feeling things for him. If you have a problem with that, save it for the wedding day," you finished, leading you and Peter out of the room. 

When you were down the hallway, Peter finally spoke. 

"Our wedding day?"

You swallowed, "You know- 'does anyone have any objections?'"

Peter's mouth formed an 'o' shape as he nodded, squeezing your hand again. When you reached his room, you closed the door behind you, and Peter engulfed you in a hug, arms wrapping around your figure as he whispered thank you's into your ear. 

"I'm so in love with you and it scares me."

You kissed his temple, "It scares me too. But I have you." 

[chudleycanonficfest]

Washing Machine Heart

Day 22, Story #2 is by @rosequartzstarswrites​

Title: Washing Machine Heart Author/Artist: rosequartzstars - @rosequartzstarswrites (Because of Tumblr settings, this is posting from my main blog, but it’s me!) Pairing: Harry Potter/Ginny Weasley (and background Ron Weasley/Hermione Granger) Prompt: 5+1 Rating: T (only for some strong language and non-explicit insinuations) Trigger Warning(s) (if any): none apply! 

“I can’t believe I’m going through with this,” huffed Hermione, struggling to keep up the brisk pace Ron was marking on the sidewalk.

“You never believed you’d have to, did you?” Ron said gleefully, seemingly unaware of just how hard his long-legged strides were to keep up with.

“You never told me you were that good at chess!”

“No, more like you never thought anyone could be better than you at anything!”

Despite only having been friends, close friends, with them for a semester, Harry had already become accustomed to the constant bickering between Ron and Hermione, to the point even of endearment. Coming from the Dursleys’, arguments and rebukes were something he was used to, but the undertone of friendship with which Ron and Hermione faced off was a welcome change (and a very entertaining one). Still, he tended to side quietly with Ron, and this particular time was no exception: part of him was delighted at the prospect of seeing Hermione get a tattoo.

This had all started from a ridiculous bet, born of boredom in the lounge of their dorm building. Ron had eyed the communal chessboard, battered and chipped from years of usage, and challenged Hermione to a match.

Hermione had scoffed: “Only if you want to lose, Ron.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Ron had said, exchanging a look with Harry as a sly smile crept onto his lips.

“I’m completely certain.”

“Certain enough to bet?” Ron had prodded her.

The competitiveness that, before becoming friends, was all Harry had known of Hermione had flared up in her eyes. “I’m listening.”

“When you lose—”

“If I lose, and I won't—”

“When you lose,” Ron had reiterated, “you have to get a tattoo of my choosing.”

Hermione had smirked. “Game on.”

In Hermione’s defense, Harry thought, she hadn’t ever considered she might lose. There really was no way of expecting how good Ron had turned out to be at chess, especially since —Harry thought— Hermione had based her certainty on how abysmal his grades were, against her own straight A’s, in their proofs-based mathematics class, which relied entirely on strength of reasoning. But, as it turned out, Ron was actually a master logician, if only somewhat lazy at his math classes, and this he had proved by absolutely obliterating Hermione with the fastest checkmate Harry had ever borne witness to.

And that is how they had come to find themselves out on the streets of their little college town that night, wrapped in their scarves and their winter coats to battle the first of the December chill, walking to a tattoo parlor Ron knew in the area so Hermione could be forever reminded of her loss by a tattoo Ron would choose. And if Harry knew Ron well, and knew how much he relished teasing Hermione, the reminder would be a strong one.

“I didn’t even want a tattoo,” Hermione was mumbling, more to herself than at either of them. “I never wanted one— did you know that you might not be eligible to donate blood if you have a tattoo? I mean, not that it’s impossible, but it’s a factor against you, like your weight and your age. And my family has a history of needing transfusions— oh, God, what if my grandfather needs a donation, like, tomorrow? The three-month period of eligibility won’t have elapsed, and my father can’t donate, and– and–” She froze in the middle of the sidewalk. “Oh, God, have I killed my grandfather?”

“Relax, Hermione,” Ron said, throwing a fraternal arm around her shoulders and squeezing her half in an attempt to get her walking again. “You’re halfway across the country from home. You wouldn’t be able to fly out on such short notice anyway.”

Harry had to stifle a laugh at how Hermione gaped at Ron then, a billion other dire possibilities to worry about racing through her head now. Ron, however, was less successful at keeping down a chuckle. “I’m kidding, Hermione. Besides, a tattoo will make you look badass.”

“I don’t want to look badass!” Hermione squeaked shrilly. “I’ve never been remotely interested in looking badass!”

“Well, interested or not,” Ron said as they came up to a dark brick building with a neon sign reading LOVEGOOD’S flickering above the door, “it seems like you don’t have much of a choice, because we’re here.”

Hermione let out a noise that sounded somewhere between a gasp and a whine as she looked up at the storefront that, to her, was synonymous not only with her doom but apparently that of her grandfather.

“Ron, please?” she said meekly.

Ron, however, looked gleeful and would not be deterred. “A bet’s a bet,” he declared, grabbing her wrist and beginning to march her up the three or so stairs that led up to the door of the tattoo parlor from the sidewalk. Harry lingered behind for an instant, watching the backs of his two friends as they waddled up the stairs, smiling as he listened to Ron debate whether he would make Hermione get a skull or a sailor’s “Mom” arrow-pierced heart, and Hermione pleading shrilly with him not to do either of those things. Watching them, Harry’s smile widened. He was lucky to have them as friends, that much he knew, despite the short time he’d spent knowing them. Why he hadn’t found them his freshman year was beyond him— but now, now that he had these wacky outings and constant bickering to enjoy, he felt overwhelmingly lucky that they had found him.

“Harry, are you coming in or what?” Ron beckoned him. He had stopped on the topmost step and was still gripping Hermione, whose face was a mask of pure, crystallized terror.

“Absolutely,” Harry said, hurrying up the steps with a little hop. “This I’ve got to see.”

Ron pushed open the door to the parlor with a little too much gusto, and Hermione cringed at the metallic sound of the chimes above the door as they tinkled with the announcement of their entrance. The front of the shop, sealing off the rest with a counter that had seen better days, was empty, the backroom separated by a beaded curtain.

“Hellooo?” Ron called into the backroom, marching right up to the counter. “Is anybody here? We bring a very eager customer!”

Hermione began to protest, but just as she did, an employee came out of the backroom to stand behind the counter. Catching a glimpse of her, Harry felt as if the wind had been knocked out of his chest: she was stunning. She was tall and slender, her toned arms visible through the ripped-off sleeves of her vintage Hole tee, with a curtain of straight orange hair pulled back into a long high ponytail. Her bright brown eyes glimmered atop a button-like nose that matched her small, round mouth perfectly, the pale fine face finished by a spattering of freckles. Even before she had spoken a single word, Harry felt the confidence coming off of her in waves, simply by how she propped her elbows up on the counter and eyed their party somewhat playfully. He was frozen to his place with the sight of her, hoping his jaw hadn’t dropped as low as it had felt in the wake of his awe.

Upon seeing her, however, Ron had had exactly the opposite reaction. “Ginny?” he said incredulously.

“What are you doing here?” the woman —Ginny— said without any greeting, returning Ron’s frown.

“I thought you weren’t working today!”

“I’m covering a shift for Demelza, she had a gyn appointment today.”

“Well, if I knew that, I wouldn’t have come in,” grumbled Ron. The tips of his ears were beginning to pink, a sign Harry had learned to recognize as a hint of extreme emotion in his friend.

“Well, you’re here now, so… what can I do for you?” Ginny said. “I mean, you can’t possibly be the one getting inked, Ron. You’re too much of a wimp.”

“Shut up, or I’m telling mom you got your helix pierced. That’ll make for a fun Christmas greeting when we’re back home, I’ll wager.”

Then the similarity became apparent to Harry: the freckles, the aggressive red of their hair, the same glint in their eyes… Ginny was Ron’s sister. Somehow, he didn’t know whether that was something he should feel good or bad about.

“Tattletale,” Ginny said, swatting at him. “And it’s called an industrial piercing. Not that you’d know.” Only then did she seem to remark on the rest of the party.

“Harry Potter,” she said, and Harry gulped as she crossed her muscular arms over her chest and leaned back, surveying him. “Come to get a sixth tattoo?”

“A sixth— how do you know?” Harry said, befuddled. Out of all the opening lines he would’ve expected her to use, this had not been one of them.

“You can credit the rumor mill at school,” Ginny shrugged, still eyeing him with interest. “You’re a topic of interest. Or at least among the soccer teams.”

“Oh, am I?”

“Romilda swore you had a griffin tattooed on your chest, but I told her I’d heard it was a dragon. Much more macho, I thought.”

“Thanks,” Harry said dully. What else was he supposed to say?

“Don’t mention it,” Ginny gave him a conspiratorial wink. “And if I were you, I’d find out who on the boys’ team has been giving you the eye in the shower enough to count your tats. I bet it’s Ron.”

“It’s not!” Ron said angrily, the red from his ears bleeding out onto his cheeks.

“I bet it is,” Ginny mouthed to Harry, giving him another wink. “But it’s not you?”

“Pardon?” said Harry, for whom the ‘it-is-it’s-not’ exchange had grown somewhat confusing.

“For the tattoo?” Ginny said, and Harry felt like an idiot. “It’s not you who’s getting it?”

“No, ah, actually— it’s Hermione,” Harry was knocked back into his senses as he gestured toward Hermione, who had stood, utterly baffled, throughout that whole exchange.

“Hermione Granger?” Ginny said, and Harry was almost glad when she turned her gaze away from him and toward Hermione. “As in, Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger?”

“The one and only,” Ron declared proudly, happy to be back off a topic that bothered him (teasing Ron) and back on a topic that delighted him (teasing Hermione).

“I wouldn’t have chalked you up to the tattoo type,” Ginny said.

“Oh, she’s not,” Ron said, his face lighting up as if Christmas had come early.

Ginny’s eyes darted between the dismal face of Hermione and the cheerful face of Ron, her eyebrows rising as she took it in. “Okay, I’m not going to ask about whatever this is. What am I doing on you?”

“I’m designing it,” Ron said brightly. And if Harry had thought that Hermione’s face couldn’t get more desolated, he’d been wrong.

“Christ, Hermione, what has he got on you?” Ginny said, already opening a drawer on the counter to pull out a sketchpad and a pen.

“I’m such an idiot,” Hermione grumbled.

Ron pored over the sketchpad, shielding the paper from Hermione’s eyes as he sketched. When he was done, he handed it to Ginny with a quick flick of the wrist that, much to Hermione’s dismay, ensured she couldn’t even catch a glimpse of what was on it. Ginny looked over whatever it was Ron had drawn and then looked up at her brother with a frown.

“Are you sure?”

“Positive.”

“Okay, then,” Ginny shrugged. She lifted the counter to open a gap through which Hermione could walk. “Follow me.”

Looking like a lamb led to the slaughter, Hermione looked up to heaven as if making one last, futile plea before scrunching up her nose and following Ginny through the beaded curtain to the backroom. Because yes, she hated the idea of getting a tattoo, but she hated the idea of letting Ron hold one over her even more.

Ron watched her leave delightedly, relishing in the jangle the beaded curtain made as it swallowed Ginny and Hermione into the backroom. “This is going to be good,” he said, rubbing his palms together. “Oh, this is going to be so good.”

“Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister?” Harry blurted out all of a sudden. He startled himself as much as Ron when he said it, though he was glad he’d been able to pare down the question from what was actually swirling around in his head: Why didn’t you tell me you had a sister that looked like THAT?

Ron looked at him and shrugged. “I don’t know. It never came up.”

“You told me about every other one of your five brothers, but not the sister.”

“Nope.”

“Not the sister that seems to be about our age.”

“Nope.”

“Not the sister that seems to be about our age and plays soccer.“ And is hot.

"Nope.” Ron paused and frowned. “She’s a year below us, anyway.”

“Oh, then that explains it,” Harry said sarcastically.

“It seemed like more of a second-semester-of-friendship revelation.”

“I see.”

Harry held the silence between them for a few moments more before he allowed the next question out. “She plays soccer?”

“One more of the long line of Weasleys that get athletic scholarships to Hogwarts College. Except for Percy— no, he was a disgrace, he got in on an academic grant.”

“The family disappointment, truly.”

Harry wanted to ask more about Ginny, but he held his tongue. His friendship with Ron was the most precious thing his sophomore year of college had yielded him, and he didn’t want to jeopardize it by prying further or making it seem like he had the hots for his sister. Even though he did. He suffocated that small voice at the back of his mind: he hadn’t even spoken properly to Ginny, just stood there like an idiot and let her quip freely about his tattoos— which, mind him, apparently were fodder for locker talk back at Hogwarts.

The buzz of the needle in the backroom as it started up brought Harry out of his thoughts, just in time to see a shit-eating grin appear on Ron’s face.

“I wish I could see her face right now,” he said gleefully, and Harry let himself stop thinking about Ginny to join Ron in picturing what Hermione Granger must look like seated in a tattoo parlor chair.

“It really wasn’t so bad,” admitted Hermione as they exited the tattoo parlor and went down the little steps back onto the sidewalk.

Despite his pretensions of malice, Ron’s nobility (which had never been in question, even despite his teasing) had shone through and yielded a considerably modest tattoo: a small, capital “R” in his own handwriting. Hermione, who had almost cried with relief after Ginny showed her the design, had chosen to get it on her left thigh, on the side and at the very top, right under her hipbone.

“Why did you get it there?” Harry asked as they resumed their brisk walk back to campus.

“It’s not a place you usually show. That means if a sleeve shifts or an interviewer sees, I don’t know, my ankle or something, they won’t notice it.”

“As if a tiny ‘R’ would disqualify anyone from a job, let alone you,” snorted Ron.

“Professionalism is a virtue, Ronald,” Hermione huffed, though her cheeks had gone red. “Besides, since that part of me is always covered, I’ll save myself from having to explain the story behind it to anyone that spots it.”

“Yeah, except the bloke that eventually undresses you and sees you in your panties. Try explaining what that 'R’ means to him,” said Ron. But Harry suspected Hermione wouldn’t have to: from how Ron’s eyes had widened and his gaze had lingered when Hermione had pulled down the side of her jeans ever so slightly to show them the finished product, exposing a sliver of her underwear, Harry could almost wager that Ron would be the bloke in question.

They walked in animated chatter for the rest of the way, the tattoo forgotten until Ron made a quip about Hermione now having crossed the gateway to joining a biker gang and Hermione going positively beet-red in the face with outrage. Then Harry, his hands in his pockets, simply smirked to himself and resigned himself to their bickering for the rest of the walk, knowing he was no longer needed in their exchange. Instead, he let his mind drift to Ginny. She hadn’t really spoken to him again, merely ducking out from the beaded curtain backroom and instructing Hermione on how to take care of her tattoo, saying only a general goodbye to the three of them as they exited the shop. There had been nothing in Ginny’s manner to suggest that she might be thinking of him as strongly, as irremediably, as he was of her, and yet there he was.

The main quad was mostly deserted, except for a few scattered groups of late-night library frequenters or sneaking couples, as the three of them crossed it to get to their dorm. Ron and Hermione didn’t stop arguing as they climbed the four flights up to their floor (the elevator, as usual, was broken), and only broke it off because Hermione reached her room before the boys reached theirs, slipping inside it and shutting the door before Ron had a chance to get the last word in.

“Well, that went well,” Ron shrugged as he and Harry kept walking down the hall to their room.

“You actually got her to get a tattoo,” Harry said with some admiration as they reached their door.

Ron grinned as he swiped the key card. “I may drive her crazy, but if anyone was going to get her to do something like that, it was going to be me.”

Ron pushed the door open and let them into their dorm room. He closed the door and, without taking off his coat, immediately flopped onto his bed— or, well, what could be seen of the bed under mountains of dirty or otherwise discarded clothes. Away from his mother’s chore-mongering for the first time, Ron had let himself go wild and go to the other extreme, but even Harry had to admit that the army of socks draped over the foot of his bed was beginning to smell a little stale.

“So,” Ron said, propping his head up, “no parties tonight?”

“Well, it’s a Wednesday,” Harry said.

“So what? There’s no party spirit around here?”

“Ron, it’s the last Wednesday before final exams. People are studying.”

“I wasn’t aware I was rooming with Hermione,” Ron grumbled. Harry had to admit she might have gotten to him a little. However, Ron’s irritation was short-lived, a grin appearing on his face again. “Wait, but we’re not people. We’re not studying.”

Harry surveyed the room and, despite his desire to throw in the towel for the night and have fun with Ron, felt a pang of dismay at just how much grosser it would be if they caved and did that (last time they had, they’d had a Pringle-eating contest, with devastating results for their sheets, which still had some crumbs). “No, Ron. We’re doing laundry.”

Ron groaned. “Jeez, now I’m rooming with my mother.”

“Okay, fine, you don’t have to do the laundry. I’ll do it for the both of us.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, go hang out with Dean and Seamus or whatever, see if you can get Hermione to do her second wild-card act of the day and make her stop studying to hang out with the guys.”

“Now I’m a man with a mission,” Ron said, perking up in delight at the prospect of teasing Hermione, or even seeing her once more that night.

“Just shove your clothes in the laundry bag before you go, won’t you? I don’t want to touch your nasty briefs more than I have to.”

Ron obliged, tossing all the clothes on and around his bed into his orange laundry bag and pulling the drawstring to close it. “I’ll update you on the Hermione thing,” he said cheerfully, hurrying out of the room and down the hall to the left to the room they’d left Hermione in.

Harry laughed to himself, wondering how long it was going to take Ron to realize why exactly he always seemed so eager to do anything Hermione-related, as he too threw his dirty clothes into a checkered drawstring laundry bag. Then, he hoisted one sack over each of his shoulders and opened the door using his ankle and leg to let himself out, his hands full with the laundry bags. He stifled a smirk as he passed Hermione’s room and heard the familiar bubbling sound of she and Ron rowing. If Harry knew her at all, he knew however much she might argue she’d be out of that room in an hour tops.

He groaned as he looked down the stairs, and rued the day he had been placed in the dorm with the shittiest elevator on campus. Resigning himself, he began to walk slowly down the poorly-lit stairs to the basement, where the laundry room was. However inconvenient this descent was, Harry was at least comforted with the knowledge that the laundry room would not be crowded, which would be the greater inconvenience once the elevator was fixed.

The basement was even dimmer, the white lights flickering and buzzing with electricity as Harry walked to the laundry room almost at the end of the hall. Sure enough, the laundry room was deserted, oddly quiet with none of the familiar hum and rattle of the machines as they worked. Harry knelt in front of a washing machine and began unloading the contents of the laundry bags into it, cramming them in so they’d fit because he sure as hell wasn’t shelling out quarters for two washers. When he’d made it all fit (which had involved the use of force to jam the door shut), he went to the shelf that held the communal detergent and poured it into the soap compartment. With that done, he dug out eight quarters from his pocket and inserted them into the washer’s slot, pressing the “Start Cycle” button when he heard the clink that let him know his quarters had been accepted. The washer rumbled slowly to life, jets of water trickling out as it began to spin in one direction and then the other, and it was a couple minutes before it was spinning at a hearty pace.

Rising from his crouch (he had always liked to watch the washing machine as it booted up to wash in earnest), Harry took the laundry bags and turned to head back upstairs, already thinking of what he might do to pass the time in the hour he had before he had to switch the clothes to the dryer.

He was so caught up in thinking of this that he didn’t see the person entering the laundry room at the same time as he was exiting, which ended in an awkward clash between them.

“I’m so sorry,” Harry blurted.

“No, it’s fine, I’m sorry too— Harry?”

Only then did Harry realize who he had bumped into, and only because she kept standing there did he believe it. “Ginny?”

She still wore her Hole shirt, but had discarded the ripped jeans, combat boots, and round-the-waist flannel he’d seen at the tattoo parlor. Instead, she wore frayed gray sweatpants and flip-flops, her hair pulled up from the long ponytail into a messy bun. She, however, somehow still managed to look almost unbearably beautiful. What’s happening to me?

“What are you doing here?” he asked, the only thing he could think of right that second. Spotting the laundry basket she was cradling, he added: “No laundry in your dorm?”

“No, yeah, there is one, but it’s always too crowded, it being a freshman dorm and all.” Harry nodded: his first year, he too had done entirely more laundry than he had to, and was thankful by the quarters he saved just by realizing he could wear a pair of pants more than once before they were dirty. “So I use the one here. Much quieter. I know Ron’s ID and password—”

“You do?”

“He gave it to me once so I could pick up his books from the library. And my memory’s great.” She gave him a half smile and looked beyond him at the laundry room. “Doing laundry?”

“No, I just like the ambience down here. The shitty lighting and bleach smell are really my style,” said Harry. Ginny laughed, and Harry felt a rush of pride at what was probably the first witty thing he’d ever said to her. “Need a hand?”

“I’d appreciate one, sure,” Ginny said, again smiling at him. Harry moved so she could walk into the laundry room, and watched her pick one of the washing machines that lined the wall. When she’d settled on one, he crouched down next to her and help her lob the clothes into the maw of the machine.

“Tattoo parlor let out early?” he asked as they placed the clothes inside.

“More like you guys came in really late. You were my last customers— I just cleaned up and closed after you left.”

“And you work there?”

“Sure beats a regular work-study, doesn’t it?” Ginny grinned. She tossed in a Tide pod that was left at the bottom of the basket, closed the door to the machine, and rose to find the quarters needed to activate it. “Oh, shoot, I left my wallet in my other pants—”

“I got you,” said Harry, digging for eight more quarters in his pocket. For once, he was glad of his bad habit of carrying an excess of loose change in his jeans, something Hermione already got on to him about (sometimes, like when she’d gifted him a money purse, not too subtly).

“Thanks,” Ginny said, picking the laundry basket up from the ground.

Harry listened for the telling clink and then pressed the button. The washing machine whirred to a start, but for once, Harry didn’t feel compelled to watch it boot up: instead, he turned to Ginny. “So how did you come to work there?”

“At the tat shop?” Ginny asked, hopping to sit on the top of the washer where her clothes were spinning. “My friend Luna’s dad, Xenophilius—”

“Gesundheit.”

“Shut up,” Ginny said, but the hint of a laugh was (to Harry’s satisfaction) visible on her lips again. “Anyway, Xenophilius owns the place. He set up in a college town because he knows college is the first time kids are truly free to make rash, impulse decisions.”

“Like getting a tattoo?”

“Exactly. And besides, all the college students love his New Age bullshit, they think it’s very 70s, so his shop is always full. He got a big boost after he started placing crystals in the shop windows.”

“He’s in with the kids, then?”

“Don’t tell him that, he’ll be mortified. But he’s great, really. A little eccentric, but great. He knows me from when Luna and I took an art class together in 10th grade, and he’s always complimented my art, so he helped me get my tattoo artist license as soon as I turned 18 and hired me.”

“Is Luna the girl with the shaggy blond hair and the weird glasses?”

“That’s her. Though I’m surprised you didn’t know her by her bottlecap necklaces. That’s usually what people comment on.”

“Does she work there too?”

“Yeah, though not as an inker, she’s useless with a needle. She designs a big chunk of the tattoos, though, both original designs and commissions or requests.”

“That’s awesome,” Harry said. He realized that was the first time through the whole conversation that he had stopped. He’d never hesitated on what to say next: conversation with Ginny had flowed easily, naturally, and he hadn’t had to think too hard to keep it going. Still, he was a little disappointed that it had stopped. Ginny, however, seemed to share in this, because rather than say goodbye and take her leave, she opened up a new topic.

“So how long have you and Ron been friends?”

“Er– since the start of this school year, actually.”

“Really? You’d think from how he talks about you, he’d known you forever.” Harry felt a flush of happiness at hearing that Ron talked about him.

“Well, I got him for a roommate this year, and we just clicked. Then it turned out we had a lot of the same classes. And we’re both on the soccer team, so it just got better from there.”

“It seems strange that you never crossed paths your freshman year.”

Harry shrugged. “I mean, freshman year is weird for everyone. I certainly felt like I was just bouncing from one place to another. I still hang out with a lot of the guys from last year, but my friends have changed. It makes sense— the first year, everyone is trying to meet as many people as possible, as if it’s a race, but by sophomore year you know more of what you want and what you’re looking for. In a way, I’m glad I met Ron now that I’m in a more stable place, now that I know my way around the college and have a better grip on things. I have a feeling he’s a friend I’m gonna keep.”

“Well, I’m glad to hear you’re sticking around the Weasleys,” Ginny said, and Harry felt a tingle run up his spine. Was she… flirting with him? “And Hermione?”

“Oh, Hermione’s great, Ron and I would be dead by now if not for her— I don’t know how I got through a full year without her.”

“But she’s very different from you guys, isn’t she?”

“Well— on the surface, sure, but not in the things that matter. The fact that she went through with the tattoo tonight when she could’ve kicked up a fuss and bailed out tells you all you need to know.”

“So what I’m hearing is that Scamander Fellow Hermione Granger is as much of a bonehead as my brother at heart?”

“Stubborn, is the word I’d use. And only when Ron’s involved, actually.”

Ginny smirked. “Idiots. They haven’t even realized it.”

Harry knew exactly what she meant. “You think it too?”

“Oh, I’d bet on it. Ten bucks says they’re together by the end of the year.”

“Hey, did our visit by the parlor today teach you nothing about bets? They can be dangerous.”

“But I’m betting against you, aren’t I?” The way she said you made Harry’s heart skip a beat. “Fine, not ten bucks. But I’ll bet you a load of laundry, how’s that?”

“Deal,” said Harry, taking Ginny’s extended hand to shake it. The touch of her palm, with its long, slender fingers, sent warmth coursing down from his hand and the length of his arm. They let go and dropped hands, and perhaps it was just wishful thinking, but Harry thought he detected a certain reluctance in Ginny as they did.

Harry leaned against the washer, his propped elbow almost brushing up against her thigh. “How about you? How’s your first year going so far?”

Ginny winced. “As well as you’d expect, I suppose. Lots of people still behave like it’s an extension of high school, and I’m very much over that. But as things go, I’m having a blast. Being on the soccer team certainly helps.”

“Congratulations on that scholarship, by the way.”

“Thank you,” Ginny said, her wide smile revealing a row of perfect, square white teeth. “You’re on a scholarship too, aren’t you?”

“Yeah. My aunt and uncle would’ve never paid a single cent for me to go to college, so it was the only way. But I’m sure they were glad to be rid of me anyway.”

“They sound like lovely people,” Ginny said sarcastically.

“I should introduce them to this Xenophilius sometime. My uncle Vernon would have a stroke just walking into that shop.”

“Well, if you ever swing by, you have an insider contact,” Ginny offered, and Harry loved the implication of something, even something as simple as an 'insider contact’, between just the two of them. “I’d be happy to arrange a meeting, especially for such esteemed patrons.”

“I might take you up on that, if I ever planned on seeing them again,” Harry said. The words came out a bit more harshly than he’d expected, and the second silence in their talk set in, brought on by the darker implications of his family situation. Desperate to break it, Harry cleared his throat and geared up to talk again: “So, do you have any tattoos?”

He was relieved to see the smile, that coy, almost lopsided smile, appear on Ginny’s face again. “Actually, no, not a single one.”

“Do you think you’d ever get one?”

Ginny thought for a second. “I might, if something meaningful enough came around. And only if I was 200% sure. But really, I feel like one tattoo would lead to another, and then I’d never stop and run out of room on my skin. So it’s more of a containment mechanism, really.”

Harry smirked. “Hm. Interesting.”

Ginny broke out onto a full grin as she watched him. “What?” she asked, but when Harry’s smirk only deepened, she shoved him playfully, her touch on his shoulders eliciting the same warm sensation as the handshake. “What, Potter, tell me! Why is it interesting?”

“I mean, since you work at a tattoo shop, and you’re wearing a Hole t-shirt, I just thought you might be the type—”

“The Hole tee? Oh, don’t tell me you’re gonna gatekeep it, like you’re the type of guy who’d be like 'name three songs'—”

“No, not at all. As a matter of fact, I don’t know a lot of music by Hole. I really only know who they are because of that one Fall Out Boy song Courtney Love was featured in—”

Ginny winced. “Not Fall Out Boy, please.”

“Why? What’s wrong with Fall Out Boy?”

“Harry—”

“I know they get a lot of shit, but really, their first albums are pretty good—”

“Harry, you’ve gotta stop right here, or you’re going to make me stop finding you so attractive.”

And just like that, there it was, out in the open. Harry felt stun: he felt his mouth open to offer a witty retort, but no words came out. Because the girlish grin had evaporated from Ginny’s face and turned into a different, more mature look, her eyes smoldering slightly and her mouth slightly pouted.

“What about you?” she asked, her words slower, as if she was choosing each one individually. “If the soccer team gossip is true, I know you have five tattoos.”

“Yeah,” Harry said, his voice having dropped as well. “Yeah, there were a few tat shops around my neighborhood where the rules were pretty lax.”

“What are they?” Ginny asked.

“The tattoos? Well, the first ones I ever got were my mom and dad’s birth and death dates, on my wrist,” Harry said, rolling up the sleeve of his shirt to display two small lines of numbers, in plain black ink, on his forearm.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Ginny said softly.

“Don’t be, I was really small when it happened. But I still wanted to pay them homage. Anyway, I’ll not bore you with my family history right now.”

“But tell me sometime?”

Harry was ecstatic at the implication that Ginny wanted to spend even more time with him. “Yeah,” he said, smiling at her. “Yeah, I will.” He moved on to the second tattoo, shifting the other sleeve up a bit to show Ginny a small black paw print in the center of his wrist. “This was my third one. My godfather was the only person my aunt and uncle would let me see while I was growing up, and even then only because he threatened them. And he had this huge, black shaggy dog, I think it was a Newfoundland, that looked almost like a bear, named Padfoot. I loved that dog, and every time I think of the happiest moments growing up, Padfoot’s in a lot of them. So when he died when I was sixteen, I got this to remember him by. It seems like a tribute to my godfather, too, so I like it doubly.”

He didn’t need encouragement from Ginny to keep going. He raised his left leg and propped it up on the washing machine by where Ginny’s legs hung, rolling his sock down a bit to show a green, line-art tuft of grass snaking above his ankle. “I got this when I got the soccer scholarship to come here. I wanted something to commemorate soccer, seeing as it’s not only, y'know, my passion, but also what got me out of that damn house for good. But I thought something like a soccer ball or a net or even the pitch outline would be too cheesy, so I got a bit of grass, y'know, as in the field…”

“Tasteful,” Ginny nodded her approval, and Harry felt newfound appreciation for that tattoo. “That’s three down, Potter.”

“I’m getting there.” Harry brought his leg down from the washer and turned his back to Ginny, taking his hand up to the nape of his neck and using it to shift the hair there upward to reveal the back of his neck where it turned into his back. “Can you see it?”

“The little lightning bolt?”

“Yeah.”

“What’s the story of that?”

“That was my second one. To be honest, I was a little ink-happy after my first one, so a couple of weeks after I got it I went back and got this.”

“But why a lightning bolt?”

“I don’t know,” Harry admitted, turning back around to face her. “I guess it was just cool.”

“Oh, very,” Ginny said, and the edge in her voice let him know she was teasing him. “That leaves us with one, then. The emblematic chest tattoo.” Again, the playfulness disappeared from her face and was replaced by that strange look, the one Harry couldn’t really decipher but really, really liked. “Tell me, then, Harry— is Romilda Vane right?”

It was only because of the suggestiveness in Ginny’s voice and the permanence of that look on her face that Harry did what he did next. His movements slow, he pulled his shirt off over his head, setting it on the washing machine right by where Ginny sat. He heard Ginny draw in a breath and it hitch in her throat as she saw him, her eyes moving over his bare skin to spot the ink blot that had brought this all on. Curled above his right pec was a small, S-shaped dragon, colored in red and gold.

“I win,” Ginny said, her voice still husky, as she extended her left hand to touch the dragon with her fingertips.

“Are you going to tell Romilda?” Harry said, his own right hand settling lightly on Ginny’s thigh.

“No, actually,” Ginny said, her palm now coming down flat on Harry’s chest. Her other hand had also drifted to him, and she had placed it on Harry’s left side, right below his ribcage, as if to hold the side of his torso. “I think I’d rather keep this moment to myself.”

And then she was leaning in and kissing him, touching her lips to his first with tentative softness that turned into a stronger, more determined fire as the kiss deepened. With both of Ginny’s hands on Harry, and one of Harry’s on Ginny’s thigh and the other supporting the weight of the kiss against the solidity of the washer, they leaned into one another. Harry’s mouth sought out Ginny’s eagerly, overcome by the fiery feeling pooling in his stomach and rising up to his throat through his chest, by the fact that everything he’d thought about on their walk back from Lovegood’s was coming true much sooner (and much better) than he’d expected. He felt Ginny’s tongue nudge at his lips and opened his mouth to let her in, engulfing more of her lips with his as he did so. Ginny kissed passionately, her tongue meeting Harry’s even as her teeth dug lightly into Harry’s lower lip, making him kiss her more deeply. With her this close, he was invaded by the flowery smell of her hair, by the soft feel of her skin, by the low humming sound she made as she kissed him. And everything was coming together, making the fire in his chest grow, and it was a good kind of burn, better than whiskey, better than anything—

The loud ding of the washer as it announced it had concluded its cycle startled them, and they pulled back from the kiss looking a little dazed, that one upbeat chime having been all they needed to bring them reluctantly back into the real world. Still Ginny didn’t take her hands off Harry, and Harry felt less than inclined to move his from her leg.

“I should, uh, switch to the dryer,” he said, the only thing that popped into his mind there.

Ginny tightened her hold around his middle and moved her hand from his chest, wrapping it around his upper back to draw him closer. “Oh, let it wait,” she said, and then she was kissing him again, and Harry was finding that the dryer could wait for hell to freeze for all he cared.

The sleepy sound of the chimes above the door didn’t even make Ginny raise her gaze from her stats study guide, which she’d pulled out to make the best of the not-too-busy lull at Lovegood’s. “We’re almost closed,” she announced to whoever had come in.

“You can’t make room for one last customer?” a familiar voice said, and only then did Ginny perk up immediately.

“Harry!” she said brightly, shutting the stats book as it became all-but-forgotten. “What are you doing here?”

“I’ve come to add one more tattoo to the five I’ve already got,” said Harry. “Think you can give me my sixth?”

Ginny didn’t even need to say yes, just opened up the lift-up counter door and disappeared through the beaded curtain. “Flip the door sign to 'closed’ before you come through, will you?”

Harry obliged and flipped the sign before following Ginny to the backroom. He sat patiently on the tattoo chair as Ginny milled about, getting the supplies ready.

“Y'know, you never did tell me the story behind your dragon tattoo,” Ginny commented as she went through the sterilization procedure for the needles. “Seeing as we were, um, otherwise occupied…”

The memory of the kiss flooded through Harry with the same fire that he’d held in his chest ever since, the flame growing to engulf his whole body just hearing Ginny mention it. “Should I tell you now?”

“I’d like to hear it.”

“I got it as a tribute to my old headmaster back home, Albus Dumbledore. Funny old man, and incredibly cryptic, but he’s the one that first gave me the idea of applying for the scholarship and helped me get all my grades and papers in order so I could make it here. We were very close, and he had this saying that he used to tell me whenever I ended up in his office for getting into trouble— 'never tickle a sleeping dragon’, he’d say.”

“What the fuck does that mean?”

Harry laughed briefly and shrugged. “Hell if I know. But it was his catchphrase. So after I graduated, I wanted to get something to commemorate him, so I got the dragon from his favorite saying. He came with me and got it too.”

Ginny turned to him and eyed him quizzically. “Your headmaster got the tattoo along with you?”

“I told you he was a funny old man.”

Ginny pulled a pair of black latex gloves over her hands and rolled a wheeled office chair over to Harry, the needle in hand. “So by what I’m hearing, you only ever get tattoos of things that are extremely meaningful to you, right?”

“That’s right,” said Harry.

“So, Mr. Meaning, what’ll it be this time?”

Harry smiled. He grabbed his shirt and pulled it slightly upward, just enough to uncover his lower trunk. He pointed to a spot on the left side of his torso, right under his ribcage— right where Ginny’s hand had been, where her touch had been burned into his skin. “Right here,” he said. “I’d like a little washing machine.”

[omg-imatotalmess]

Avoidance

Hey guys! So, this is for @thisismysecrethappyplace who tagged me in their writing challenge. I’m sorry this took so long to get out. I hope this helps you through your birthday blues. Hope y’all enjoy!

Pairing: George Weasley x Reader

Requested: Kinda

Warnings: Slight angst (it ends nice and fluffy I promise) 

15. I’m hopeless and awkward and desperate for love!

                                                              ---

Love was a funny thing. It had the power to make people do the stupidest things without even realizing it. It had the power to make people forget themselves. Love could completely turn someone inside out and set them on their head, and they'd be happy about it. You couldn't fathom it. How anyone could be happy about tearing their heart out and handing it to someone for safekeeping was a mystery to you. In fact, you thought it was total bullshit. Then you met George. 

Well, that's not exactly it. It wasn't love at first sight by any means, but sometime in the years you'd known him, it crept up on you. You hadn't even realized it at first. It had come on so slowly over the years that it felt natural. Then, all of a sudden, sitting in a sunny corner of the library, it hit you like a ton of bricks. You were in love with George Weasley. The boy who taught you to play quidditch, who laughed at all your bad jokes, who had been your best friend forever. Of course, you loved him. It was inevitable. And that's why you'd taken to avoiding him. 

You couldn't stand to be the aching, puppy-eyed girl grinning ear to ear as you offered him your heart. Never in your life did you want to feel that stupid. You also didn't like the very real possibility that it would ruin things between you. All you wanted to do was wait it out. Let yourself slowly fall out of love with him, and then things could go back to normal. However, George seemed to have other plans. After a good week of avoiding him, he finally caught up to you while you sat in the astronomy tower. 

"There you are. Been looking for you for ages, you know," he said. You could feel him grinning at your back. 

"Uh, yup, here I am. You found me," you said, cringing at your stilted words. 

"If I didn't know any better, I'd think you didn't want to see me. Silly me, I didn't know we were playing hide and seek," he laughed, dumping his bag on the floor and sitting down beside you. In typical George fashion, he left a tiny gap between your shoulders but knocked your knees together as he sat. It was friendly. You wished it wasn't. Then you hated yourself for wishing that. 

"Yeah, silly you," you said. 

"C'mon, don't tell me you're really avoiding me." His tone was still teasing, but you could hear the tightness beginning to form. 

"Well..." you began. 

"What? Why? Is it because Fred and I let you take the fall for that prank on Snape? Because I feel terrible about that, and I really am sorry," he said. 

"I am still kinda mad about that," you muttered to yourself.

"Does that mean you're avoiding Fred, too?" he asked, looking very much like he hoped the answer was yes. Just for the safety of knowing it wasn't just him. 

Things would have been so much easier if he didn't turn those big brown eyes on you. When he looked like that, you could see how devastatingly handsome he was even with that wounded look on his face. You hated it. The last thing you'd ever wanted to do was hurt him. How the hell were you supposed to explain to your best friend that you fell in love with him and wished you hadn't? You had the feeling that it would come out wrong if you tried anyway. You looked away. 

"You're not." It was a statement. 

"Well, no, not exactly," you mumbled. 

"What's the matter? Did I do something wrong?" he asked. 

"No!" you said, just a little too loud. "No, of course not." 

"You don't exactly go around ignoring your best friend without a good reason. Especially not you. Unless you forgot how to speak English or something. Even then, I bet you'd still come mess with me just because you knew I wouldn't understand you. You'd get a real kick out of that," he babbled. 

"George, take a breath," you reminded him. 

"What did I do?" he said, cutting off his rambling. You shifted uncomfortably, blushing under his gaze. If only he was just a little less endearing. If only he was ugly. If only you weren't dumb enough to fall in love with him. 

"You didn't do anything. I'm just being stupid," you said. 

"That doesn't exactly tell me much, you know," he replied, reaching out to take your hand. It was something he'd done a million times before. Your skin shouldn't have prickled under his touch. 

"No, I guess not. It's really not a big deal, though." The tingling spread up your arm. 

"Tell me about it anyway," he said, giving your hand the most unbearably sweet squeeze. It was like he had a direct line to your heart. That one little squeeze sent it into overdrive. You shivered, pulling your hand away and standing up. 

"I can't. Not right now, okay?" you said quickly. Snagging your bag from its place by the window, you turned to run like the coward you were.

"(Y/N)." Your name sounded heavy and tragic on his tongue. The whole situation felt like something out of a ridiculous romance novel, which made you hate it even more. 

"I'll explain it all to you when I get it straight in my head, okay? I promise," you said. While you never really planned to tell him about being in love with him, you would eventually be able to go back to normal. 

Taking one long step forward, he grabbed the sleeve of your shirt. His grip was so gentle that you could have pulled away if you'd really wanted to, but you didn't. Both of you stood there. Neither of you moved or spoke for a moment. You just kept your back to him, letting him curl his fingers into your sleeve. Eventually, he brought himself closer, leaning his forehead onto your shoulder. 

"Please don't ignore me anymore. It's only been a week, and I miss you," he whispered. You weren't sure you'd ever heard him so quiet. 

"George-"

"Please? I'd really rather you talk this through even if I don't have a clue what you're on about," he said. 

Jesus, having him so close you could damn near hear his voice inside your head was painful. So was the thought of walking away. George was your best friend. He deserved an explanation. It was cruel of you to do this to him when he didn't do anything wrong. You just weren't sure how to start. 

"I'm hopeless and awkward and desperate for love!" you blurted. Well, that was one way to do it. 

"You're in love?" he asked, somehow sounding more upset. 

"That seems to be what came out of my mouth," you said. 

"You're in love," he said again. This time it was more to himself. 

"Yeah," you sighed, turning to him. You rubbed the back of your neck awkwardly, feeling your cheeks flushing with heat. This wasn't a conversation you really wanted to have. He'd reject you in that sweet yet joking way only he could pull off, and you'd have to pretend to be okay with it, and things would be so much worse. If the castle was capable of swallowing you whole, you wished it would. 

"With who?" 

"Excuse me?" 

"Who is it?" 

"Who... am I in love with?" you asked. Oh no. Oh god. George, that sweet, stupid boy. He didn't get it. 

"Do I know them?" he asked. A frown pulled at the corners of his mouth. 

"I should hope so. You know, come to think of it, he actually looks a lot like you," you laughed, suddenly dizzy with mortification. The whole situation was laughable. Completely bizarre. What could you do besides laugh? 

"Oh," he croaked. "Fred then." 

"Fred?" you asked, blinking dazedly. 

"It's alright. You could have just told me. I would have even put in a good word for you. We're close, you know, I have an in with him. Wouldn't have minded setting you up. Can't imagine why you didn't just ask," he said with a half-hearted laugh. He began to back away from you. You watched as he ran a hand through his hair and bit his lip. For a split second, you thought he was going to cry. 

"I'm not talking about Fred," you said. 

"'M not sure who else you'd be talking about," he said. 

"You dense--" you muttered. Shaking your head, you figured you'd better give this another shot. 

"You, George, I'm in love with you," you admitted. It was his turn to blink at you. If the situation hadn't been so painfully awkward, you might have laughed at him. Half bent over with his bag hanging from one hand, lanky limbs paused mid-movement and sticking out at odd angles.

"Me? You really mean that? Me, as in George Weasley?" he asked. 

"You know a lot of other George Weasleys?" 

"Me! You're in love with me!" he hooted. A grin cracked across his face as he dropped his bag and swept you up in his arms. 

"I'll assume it's reciprocated then," you said as he crushed you against his chest. He laughed. It sounded a lot like years worth of built-up worry finally being released—a wonderfully contagious sound. A smile pulled at your mouth, and you buried your face in his chest. 

In lieu of an actual answer, he pulled you up, so your feet dangled off the floor and kissed you. You'd thought about George kissing you a thousand times, but you never imagined it would be like this. He kissed you like it was the only thing he'd ever wanted to do. Despite the enthusiasm that you could feel emanating from every pore, he was gentle. His mouth was warm, stretched around a familiar grin, and tasted faintly of honey. You wondered briefly why you ever thought about denying yourself this before  George overtook all your senses. Reluctantly, the two of you parted to breathe. 

"Guess I should have said something sooner," you panted. 

"Definitely," he said, sounding a little breathless himself. 

"So, I guess it really would be safe to assume you like me too," you teased. 

"I've been in love with you since fourth year. Glad to know you finally caught up," he said. His face was flushed a soft pink, making his freckles stand out more. You loved them. You loved him. 

"Sorry for keeping you waiting," you said. 

"This was definitely worth the wait." Smiling, you leaned in and captured his lips again. Now that you knew you were allowed, you weren't sure you'd ever stop. Maybe love wasn't so funny after all. 

@hufflepuff5972

[the-insomniac-emporium]

Serenade (Daniela Dimitrescu/Reader) Pt. 11

Fandom: Resident Evil: Village Rating: T for language Warnings: Nope! Notes: Here we are, a breath away from the end. This features not one, but FOUR songs written by myself. If you only choose to listen to one of them, listen to the final one (Cradle of Heaven), as it is a duet I wrote specifically for this fanfiction, as something that the reader wrote to play together with Daniela. The links to these songs will be within the fanfiction itself, at relevant times. Past Chapters: Pt. 1: Nocturne, Pt. 2: Overture, Pt. 3: Accelerando, Pt. 4: Toccata, Pt. 5: Poco a Poco, Pt. 6: Elegy, Pt. 7: Harmony, Pt. 8: Obbligato, Pt. 9: Berceuse, Pt. 10b: Hymn AMAB

Chapter 11: Cadence

(Cadence: Two chords that mark the end of a song)

The stage is set, the lights are dimmed, your heart pounds within your chest, and the world is yours. Soon, it will be Daniela’s. She is right by your side, as ever, hand gently taking hold of your own. There’s a silent reassurance in her grip, a reminder that the two of you have overcome a plethora of challenges. A promise that this will be no different. Both of you take a deep breath, in sync, before exchanging a quick kiss. All of your hard work has been leading up to the coming moments. Although you are beyond confident in your lover’s abilities, there is a shadow of doubt in the back of your mind. Not for her sake, but surrounding the expectations held by her mother, the standard against which you would be measured.

“Come hell or high water, Songbird, I won’t let anything happen to you. I promise,” Daniela whispers, squeezing your hand again, eyes unblinking as they stare into yours. “You’ve made every right choice, worked harder than anyone I know, and there is nothing more I can ask of you… except another kiss to celebrate afterwards, that is.” Giggling in response gives you the moment you need to relax, nerves fading into the background of your mind. “Now let’s put on a show the likes of which my mother has never seen, mhmm?”

THREE HOURS EARLIER:

“Here, you can borrow my brooch. It’s been in the family for generations, since before we even came to the village, passed down starting with an ancestor who crafted it himself, from materials he scavenged while fleeing his home country,” Daphne rambles, helping you attach the jewelry to your shirt. Thankfully, her hands do not tremble nearly as much as yours have been for the past hour. “I’m more than sure that Lady Daniela will tell you this much, but I feel the need to repeat just how good you look right now. I don’t know where the hell they’ve been hiding this version of our uniform, but damn do I wish I could get one for my next date with Ygritte. Seriously, if you can get one in my size, please do me that favor.”

“Anything for my best friend. Especially after all the times you’ve saved my ass these past few months,” you reply, pausing to give her shoulder an affectionate pat. If not for her constant interference running, someone would have certainly found out about your relationship with Daniela. “Speaking of that… of my life being on the line, I mean… no matter what happens today, no matter what Lady Dimitrescu decides, take care of yourself. You’ve gambled with your own blood to keep me safe, but what I’ve done, what I’ve risked, those were my choices. My consequences. The last thing I’d ever want is for you to pay for them, somehow.”

Rolling her eyes, Daphne gives you a playful shove to the chest, before smoothing out the fabric of your dress uniform. Now she refuses to meet your gaze, a familiar mistiness taking over her brown eyes.

“Nobody around here is stupid enough to think you’ll die today. You managed to get Lady Daniela, of all people, to stay focused long enough to learn some absolutely beautiful pieces of music. You have proved, time and time again, that you are a talented musician, teacher, and ‘servant’. So get out there and kick some metaphorical ass, my friend, because you are ready,” she finally says, offering you what seems to be a handshake. But as soon as your hand meets hers, she’s pulling you in for a hug, holding you tight for a solid minute. When at last you part, you give her what may very well be the last smile she’d ever see gracing your lips.

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

A hand’s edge against xer forehead, parallel to the ground, kept perfectly flat. From anyone else, it would be mockery. From xer? Honest salute, solidarity in a traditional form, accompanied by a sharp-toothed grin. Mimicking the expression, you wave at Ava, glad to see that xe would be awake for your concert. After your first night with your girlfriend, Daphne had helped arrange for someone to be your “cover story” for sleeping outside of your usual quarters. With Daniela’s input (and jealousy), only one candidate had revealed themselves, in the form of a (conveniently) mute butler with an inconsistent schedule, love of mischief, and somehow the respect of the Dimitrescu family. Now, xe appeared ready to escort you to the location of your trial by fire.

“Are you sure our mutual friend won’t be upset to see the two of us together?” You teased, knowing full well that Ava was one of the only people that Daniela trusted 100% around you. In response, xe gives an exaggerated shrug, then quickly links xer arm with your own. Together you march onwards to your destiny, amused by the way xe practically skipped down the hallway. Maybe there was a certain wisdom to xer shenanigans, a carefree philosophy that encouraged laughter in the face of death, and you embraced the thought with a smile.

Before long, however, the two of you encounter another unlikely pair headed towards the same destination: Lady Cassandra, looking somewhat embarrassed, with an unfamiliar maiden at her side. Their hands are clutching each other desperately, although neither of them dares to look at the other. Instead they both watch you closely from where they’ve paused in the corridor. Oddly unfazed, Ava gives them a short bow of acknowledgement, earning xer a brief nod from Cassandra. Seeming eager to move on, she addresses you quickly before gesturing for you to keep walking.

“Good luck. Don’t fuck this up for Daniela, or I’ll never hear the end of it,” she growls, doing her best to downplay her obvious concern. Wanting to let her keep up with her facade, you merely give a nod as you resume walking towards the concert stage. Soft footsteps behind you let you know that the strange pair are accompanying you. Still walking alongside you, Ava repeatedly glances behind you, putting out xer hands in the shape of a heart, giggling all the while. If you didn’t know any better, you would almost assume that xe wanted to get hit by Cassandra.

“Ava, please calm down. If you’re not careful, she’ll throw something at you. If she does that, you’ll probably dodge, and then I’ll probably end up getting hit, and then I’ll miss the concert, Lady Dimitrescu will kill me as punishment, Daniela will be sad and whiny about it, and none of you will have any peace for, like, a month. Three weeks, bare mims,” you tease, nudging xer in the ribs. Emphasizing a pout, xe sends one last look at Cassandra and her ‘friend’ (whose hand she was still holding onto like a lifeline), mouthing words you couldn’t parse. Based on the way Cassandra groans, it was something ridiculously cheesy. Regardless, xe behaves the rest of the way there…

ONE MINUTE TO SHOWTIME:

“I love you, Firefly, and I know that you’re going to do absolutely amazing out there. I’m so proud of you,” you murmur, pressing a feather-light kiss to Daniela’s cheek. As dearly as you wish to stay behind the curtain, in her arms, you know that the show was inevitable. With one last nod to your beloved, you part the fabric shielding you, stepping into the spotlight. Imaginary crowds grow hushed at your appearance, a sea of faces greeting you warmly. In truth, there are but five members in this audience, each gazing upon you with veiled interest. Donning you best presentation persona, you set this final act in motion. “Lady Dimitrescu, Lady Cassandra, Lady Bela, and Mx. Caldwell, it brings me great pleasure to present to you, on this day, a concert performed by your own Lady Daniela. For three months now I have acted as her instructor, and these three months have been, perhaps, the most rewarding of my entire life. I could not possibly be any more proud of her than I already am. Now, without further ado… let us begin!”

Stepping to the side, a tug of a rope has the curtains parting entirely, revealing your beloved, waiting ready at the piano. All at once your audience (including Cassandra’s partner, acting as a mere servant in the background) sits up with wide smiles. They look Daniela over, taking in the sight of her fanciest dress, and the way her eyes light up with joy. By the time her fingers begin dancing away at the keys, there is not a single ounce of anxiety in your entire soul. This first song is a relic from your past, a representation of an abandoned idea, yet she plays it like a celebration. It’s fast, hits hard, a bold take right out of the gate. Admittedly, it is also somewhat short. Nonetheless, it serves its purpose, igniting a spark of excitement in those present. Once the song ends, Daniela is surprised by the intensity of her family’s applause. In the back of her mind, she trembles with excitement, knowing that the best was yet to come.

Riding this wave of pride, she immediately settles into the next song, something slower but far grander. Affection thrums inside your chest as you watch your pupil perfectly execute another piece. You can only imagine what her mother must be feeling, to see just how far her daughter has come in such a short amount of time. A quick glance in Alcina’s direction reveals the barest hints towards her being impressed. For now that was enough to satisfy you. Soon enough her face would twist in surprise, as the second song ended, and a new face steps up onto the stage: Lady Bela. Wordlessly she retrieves her violin from the back of the stage, then turns to the front with a mischievous smile.

“Now, a duet! Presenting the ever-talented Lady Bela, to join Lady Daniela for a rendition of an original song, dubbed ‘Northern Lights’. Enjoy!” You call out, before once more taking your place at the side. While Daniela did not need you to count her in for her solo performances, this feels ever so slightly more important, and as such you do your best to conduct for the duration of the song. If either of the performers need it, they hide it well. Honestly, you weren’t sure if your girlfriend had looked your way even a single time so far. ‘Twas incredible to witness her. Akin to a siren, near glowing, taking to the stage as if born to grace its center. Even with Bela working her own magic, Daniela is ever the star. Together they weave a lovely song, notes rising high into the air, swirling around an enchanted audience.

When it ends, both performers give a bow, as if the entire affair had come to a close. Without hinting at what was to come, you switch places with the eldest Dimitrescu daughter. A deep breath rattles your ribcage as you find your center, reaching out to take Daniela’s hand, the two of you raising your arms upward in a display of union. For the first time this evening, Lady Alcina narrows her eyes in what feels like disapproval. But you pay her no mind. Instead you sit alongside your beloved, quietly settling into your practiced position.

There is no introduction for this song. No announcement, no showmanship, nor even a countdown into the symphony. Simply, like exhaling a breath, the two of you start to play. Your phrases echo hers, and vice versa, calling and answering, accompanying all the while, natural as anything holy in the wild. ‘Tis the second shortest song of the night, only long enough to showcase the degree of your partnership with Daniela. As the song crescendos into an ending, you manage to meet the gaze of your employer. Perhaps it is merely an illusion of hope, or a reflection of lights above, but you swear you see tears in her eyes.

“Outstanding, incredible,” she praises, rising to her feet alongside her other daughters, clapping all the while. Once again you rise to your feet, hand clasped with Daniela’s, bowing as deeply as you can manage. Before you can even process what’s happening, your girlfriend is being pulled away from you, swept up into the arms of her mother. Desperation digs like a knife into your heart, as you ache to celebrate with her, but you remain ever in the guise of a professional. “You did amazing, my dear. I cannot begin to describe how proud I am.” The family gathers around each other, buzzing with affection fit to make the hardest of hearts melt. You are left on the outside, awkwardly waiting, without a hint of acknowledgment.

Even if this concert was a measure of your skill as a teacher, Lady Dimitrescu had never bothered to consider you more than another servant. This night was about Daniela. About your secret girlfriend, the brightest star in all the skies. That is not something that bothers you, nor does it surprise you. All that makes you wish to weep is the desire to kiss her. To sweep her into your arms, with celebratory kisses, singing her name as a praise to higher powers. In the end, it takes several minutes for Daniela to pull away enough to move back to you, and even then she cannot give you the reaction she yearns for.

“I’ll come by to talk to you tonight, I promise,” she whispers, as she gives you the weakest hug you have ever felt. Then she is returning to her family, clinging to her mother with a massive grin. Soon enough you are left alone on stage, quiet surrounding you, mixed feelings gnawing at the pit of your stomach. Something feels… wrong. You cannot put a name to it. No one has hinted to you what your beloved has planned, for none but her even have a clue. As soon as she is alone with her mother, as soon as she has the smallest sliver of an opportunity, she knows what she must do. “Mother… we need to talk. I... I have a confession to make.”

[umiarumi]

fucking three houses | lorenz hellman gloucester

the whole reason i wrote this collection was because of an inside joke. "wouldnt slut shaming lorenz be funny?"

The resounding tune of the clock striking noon echoed around the monastery, prompting you to perk up from your studies. Usually, you studied in solitude. As outgoing as your allies made you, you always held onto that ease and pleasure being alone supplied you. With how lust-induced your recent activities had been, a little peace and quiet would do you some well-deserved good.

You shut the book regarding tactics your professor had recommended you. The soft shuffles of former students leaving the library and hushed chatter reverberated around the room and halls. Of course, you were at war but there's always time to get better at what you do. You chuckled at the thought of some grizzled lady wielding a sword studying. Well, that is you after all!

Sliding the book back in its respective shelf, you hummed as you remembered Tomas. From what you gathered, the Tomas that the faculty knew was replaced. Unfortunate, but unsurprising knowing the enemies working behind the scenes.

You shifted your thoughts to your upcoming mission. Some scouting mission from the empire detected commotion in Garreg Mach. You huffed at the thought. Of course, you'd expect Edelgard to retaliate but damn, that was quick.

You shook your head, well, it was tea time! Noon meant the yard would be filled with people gossiping and sipping alike, the hobby so ingrained in them that they retained it through the war.

You walked past Seteth, nodding to him. He nodded back, cracking a soft smile. You'd rarely see that emotion! You giddily laughed as he turned the corner, pleased to see he was loosening up.

Walking down the stairs, you passed a rushing Lysithea who didn't even recognise you. You grinned, shaking your head. Always in a rush, that girl! Or, well, woman. She'd like that better.

Sauntering, you caught a glimpse of a certain purple and ginger-headed duo bickering. "Lee! Lorenz! Whatever is wrong, my dear friends?" You cheered, slinging your arms around the two. Leonie raised a brow at you, grinning, seemingly relieved at your arrival. Lorenz, on the other hand, froze up. "Although you may have connections to House Riegan, (Y/N)..." He grumbled, sighing.

"Oh chill, Lorenz!" You guffawed, shaking your head. He'd become considerably more agreeable, but God, he'll hold onto that 'treating commoners with his version of respect' ideal forever.

Leonie nodded with you. "Yeah, buddy." She pointedly looked at Lorenz, crossing her arms. "Well, apparently (Y/N), Lorenz thinks that he can't take me to tea because I'm 'unpleasant'". Hands now on her hips, she turned back to you.

You smirked. "Lovers quarrel?" You asked, shifting your weight.

"NO, DUMBASS!" "Absolutely not!"

You cackled at the yells, waving your hands in front of your face dismissively. They really did act like it!

"My bad, my bad... now, Leonie is a great dining partner! But... I doubt tea is even your thing." You offered, mockingly putting on a wise tone. She slowly nodded, realising you're right.

"Yeah! A good meal is better than tea. Thanks for seeing my point, (Y/N)." She slapped your back before, turning away. "I'll spend this time on training, can never get enough!" She waved goodbye to the two of you, although you supposed it was more to you.

Lorenz sighed, brushing his, admittedly less foul, hair out of his face. "I fail to see why you defend her." He muttered, looking to you. You raised a brow, tilting your head for that added 'what do you mean?' effect.

"Simply put, she wouldn't make a fair tea partner. She accused me of the reason being that she was a commoner, but it truly was not! I explained to her, but she seemed to have not appreciated my honesty, either." He pondered, lips pursing.

"Well, Lorenz! I think you need a lesson in manners." You bluntly asserted, placing your hands on your sides.

"Why I never-"

"Not that you don't have wonderful manners! However, your honesty can be jarring... you come off rude, man." You explained, patting his shoulder.

"So I am to lie?"

"Gah! No! Look, how about we discuss it over tea?" You suggested, exasperated. As intelligent as the dude is, his social cues with... commoners and the rest of us normal people are is abysmal!

He nodded. "A splendid notion! Shall we take this to my dorm? I feel as though the tea court will be filled by now. I also have some delectable flavours and tea sets!" He smiled, leading you away.

You yelped, catching up to him. What was the deal with guys walking briskly away from you?

~~~~

"Please, take a seat." He offered, pulling out a chair for you. You mumbled thanks, sitting down.

Crossing your legs, you hummed. Was this a curse? Was this going to end up in you fucking the most pretentious man? Well, the omniscient presence watching your every move knows the answers.

As he poured the tea into your embellished cup, you admired the colour. "How pretty! And the teacup compliments it!" You whispered in awe, looking back up to Lorenz. He smiled sweetly at you, almost in the way one would at a kitten or puppy.

"I'm glad you have a knack for spotting artistic factors in the simplest things." He said, sitting down opposite you.

"However, on our way here, I thought about something."

You gulped. How was your impending lecturing being turned on you?!

"Y-yes?" You stuttered, bringing the teacup to your mouth, sipping nervously on the steaming liquid.

He eyed you, before humming.

"I doubt you're the most qualified person to teach me about manners." He said, gauging your reaction. You halted sipping on your tea.

Collecting yourself, you placed your teacup back down. "Oh? Why would that be?" You questioned, fiddling with the tablecloth.

"Well, you seem to have time engaging in certain... promiscuous activities, that isn't exactly too innocent or polite." He murmured, sipping on his tea.

Your eyes bulged, hands antsy as they moved to your face to hide your shock.

"For someone so carefree to participate in such... activities in public, you sure do seem to hold a facade of modesty." He replied, watching you sternly.

"Yeah, imagine how it feels having someone know of this!" You gritted your teeth, clenching your arms.

He raised a brow, smiling crookedly. "Certainly you wouldn't mind. Considering you would do so on holy grounds. You and Claude seemed to have not cared. I wouldn't be surprised if the whole monastery heard you."

You gasped, moving to get out of your chair. You didn't need a lecture from Lorenz.

He stood up with you, challenging your gaze.

"When I told Leonie she wasn't well-kempt enough... I suppose you aren't any better." He smirked, watching you bite your lip anxiously.

"Damnit, what do you want!? Don't tell anyone, I'll do anything!" You pleaded, taking a step forward. Lorenz grinned at this, raising a brow. He walked around the table, coming to face you directly. You looked down, refusing to meet his gaze.

"Since you're so eager to offer. Perhaps I could partake in those services Claude recommended to you?" He whispered, hand coming to tilt your chin upwards. Your face erupted in a dark heat, your heart thumping.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz.

You collected yourself, giving him a sly grin as your hands found themselves around his neck. "Well, if you're interested in a free trial..." You hinted, swaying your hips.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz.

He gulped, smiling crookedly. "You strike a hard bargain, my fair lady. I suppose I'd have to indulge." He murmured, grabbing underneath your knee and pulling your leg up to his waist.

Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Don't fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz.

"Then, please, take whatever you'd like."

Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck Lorenz. Fuck-

Your lips were captured by his own, as you soon felt your weight shift as your body was lifted from the ground. You wrapped your legs around him fully as you were set down on his plush bed

The kiss heated up passionately, feeling Lorenz palm you through your normal uniform. Being a Sunday, no war business was discussed and no armour was worn. He cupped your breasts.

"You're hardly pleasant, ever so brash and callous. But not to fear, I'll mould you into a fair woman. However, I'd say I prefer your unabashed promiscuousness." He hissed, stripping you of your uniform. Soon, your bra and underwear followed.

He shed his own casual uniform, for once in his life, not caring. That was proved as much as he dropped his uniform onto the mahogany floors.

You were pushed down onto the bed as you felt Lorenz slide on top of you, his already hard dick grinding against your slick cunt. You sighed, capturing his lips in a kiss once more.

His hands moved to your breasts, removing his mouth from your own only to kiss up the skin. Poking, squeezing, kissing, licking. He left no stone unturned, or in this case, no skin untouched. His apparent fixation on your breasts soon shifted to your darkened face. He simpered at his work.

"You will be good practice for the future. I suppose a whore such as yourself wouldn't oppose being treated with such behaviour." He proposed, his hands stroking up and down your sides.

"I... I'm not a whore!" You defended weakly. Yet any argument was soon washed away as he began to rub his dick up and down against your vagina.

"Oh? Ah, I see. So making love... no, I should say, carelessly fucking your former classmates one after another was just a hallucination?" He asked, the tip of his dick sliding into your walls for a split second before retreating.

"N-no, that's not what I meant!" You cried out, frustrated at the lack of stimulation.

"Ah, straight to denial, I see! You have skipped explaining and gone straight to denying your needy, sluttish behaviour." He groaned as he felt you pull him closer.

You cried out in frustration before looking away.

" F-fine! You're right that I'm a whore! I'm a whore who loves her classmate's dicks! Now please fuck me!" You moaned, exasperated.

"That's wonderful to hear."

And no sooner than he spoke did he thrust his dick right into your pussy, a silent moan escaping your open lips. He leant over you, feeling your tits press against him. Your legs rose and wrapped around his pistoning hips.

You struggled to get a full breath at the pace he was thrusting at, it sent your head spinning. You couldn't think, you could only feel as you were fucked silly by the one guy you could never like.

Yet, that distaste furthered your arousal.

"You are far from suitable for me. You.." He heaved as you clenched around him. "Naughty. You're brash, loud, unladylike... but you make a wonderful cocksleeve." He groaned into your ear, letting out soft moans.

You felt the coil in your stomach tighten at his words.

"Then... you're just like me! Sinking down... to my level just for some pussy?" You teased, slurring.

He smirked annoyedly. "Tch, I wouldn't say that in your position." He grunted out, holding you tighter as he pistoned harder.

"O-oh! I... you!" You moaned, speech cutting off as you couldn't talk. It was so fast, so hard, so good!

The two of you continued to moan and grunt, accompanied only by the sound of skin slapping. The erotic groans of the man you held such distaste for was sending you over the edge. You hated it so much that you loved it.

To the means of an end, you felt the coil snap as he groaned once more in your ear, the spasming of your walls soon causing him to cum. You felt your ravaged pussy shudder as ropes of hot cum seared your insides. As he slid out, it trailed out.

Lorenz looked down on you, smiling coyly at the sight. "Speechless and fucked silly, that's a perfect look for you."