#but the second chorus just caught me up in his spell | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

asacredthebread · 6 months ago

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Cocky Corrections

•☽────✧˖°˖☆˖°˖✧────☾•

Sam x F!Reader - 18+

𝙵𝚘𝚕𝚕𝚘𝚠𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚜𝚞𝚍𝚍𝚎𝚗 𝚋𝚞𝚛𝚜𝚝 𝚘𝚏 𝚌𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚒𝚗𝚎𝚜𝚜, 𝚑𝚘𝚠 𝚠𝚒𝚕𝚕 𝚢𝚘𝚞 𝚙𝚞𝚝 𝚑𝚒𝚖 𝚋𝚊𝚌𝚔 𝚒𝚗 𝚑𝚒𝚜 𝚙𝚕𝚊𝚌𝚎?

Warnings/Themes: Sub Sam, Begging, Whining, Teasing, Drinking, Slight Public, Cocky behaviour, Handjob

wc; 5794

taglist - @musicislove3389 @peaceloveunitygvf @jazzyfigz @sarahbethgvf

It was one of those late summer evenings, where the air was thick with humid warmth, and the golden light of the setting sun streamed through the open windows of the bar. The small space was buzzing with laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating a comforting ambiance that made you feel right at home. You sat at a round table with Sam, Jake, Josh, and Danny after an exhausting but exhilarating band practice, the remnants of their efforts lingering like a distant echo of a concert yet to come.

Sam, with his long brown hair cascading down his back and his expressive brown eyes sparkling with mischief, sat confidently at the table, an amber pint cradled in his hands. You couldn’t help but admire him from the corner of your eye as he animatedly recounted some trivial band drama from earlier that day. His natural charm had a way of pulling everyone into his stories, and as he spoke, he leaned back in his chair, a sly smile playing on his lips.

"Maybe if we had a little more practice and a little less bickering, we’d actually get song down," Sam joked, shooting a teasing look at Jake, who feigned innocence, rolling his eyes with a smirk. “But who am I kidding? You’d probably drown in the spotlight anyway.”

Danny erupted into laughter, his infectious humor infusing the atmosphere with a lightness that evoked chuckles from everyone around. Josh, the softer-spoken one of the ensemble, sat quietly, a tender smile on his face as he watched the dynamic play out. You felt the warmth of laughter wrapping around you, but there was a different energy pulsing between you and Sam—a tangible undercurrent that suggested a different side to him.

As he continued to boast and banter with his brothers and Danny, he seemed to grow more animated. His laugh was louder, his gestures more exaggerated. You knew that within this confident façade lay a completely different person; one who thrived on your approval and craved your guiding hand. The thought was enough to propel a small smile to your lips, one that Sam occasionally caught when his eyes flicked toward your direction.

“Really, dude, you should just stick to playing bass,” Jake said, shaking his head, a smirk lacing his words. “You know pushing your weight around can’t cover up your lack of rhythm.”

“Oh, come on!” Sam waved a dismissive hand, but there was a glimmer of mock frustration in his eyes. “I’m practically the backbone of this band. Without me, you’d all be lost.”

You caught his gaze, and it held a challenge—an invitation wrapped in bravado. One part of you wanted to encourage that cockiness, to let him bask in the limelight he thrived in, but another part couldn’t resist giving him the knowing look that shifted the power dynamic. It was a brief glance that carried with it the understanding of your complex relationship, unspoken yet resonant. In these moments of confidence, he was the band’s star—a leader, a showman—but in private, he could be so achingly tender, his demeanor a stark contrast that only you truly recognized.

Sam's smile faltered for just a second, as if registering the subtle shift in energy between you both. The façade of bravado smoothed out, giving way to a flicker of something deeper—perhaps vulnerability or yearning. But the spell was soon broken, and he filled the silence with a quick quip meant to catch everyone’s attention again.

“Alright, alright, I guess I’ll take all the credits then. Just know that when we blow up, I’ll expect a bigger share of the profits!” he declared with a laugh, slamming his pint down on the table in a triumph that earned him a chorus of playful groans from the others.

You couldn't help but smile at him. Watching his rapid shifts from cocky bravado to a deeper introspection was always a show you enjoyed. There was something intoxicating about being the one who held that subtle sway over him—a power balance steeped in trust. Balancing the roles he played on stage and off, you relished the parts you understood—how he fed off the energy of the room, yet yearned for more from you in a space only meant for two.

As the night continued, the laughter and teasing filled up the air, creating a warm blanket that wrapped around all of you. But within that vibrancy, you could still sense Sam’s playful arrogance masking the deeper layers of who he truly was—a man yearning for guidance, for connection, and most important, for you.

As the evening rolled on, the lively banter among the band intensified, fueled by drinks and camaraderie. Sam leaned further into the spotlight, transforming into the embodiment of rock star charisma. He tossed his hair back with an exaggerated flourish, his body radiating confidence as he declared, “It’s official: I was born to own that stage! When I step out there, it’s like the world fades away and all that remains is me and the music. Everyone else is just background noise!”

The table erupted into laughter and cheers, a chorus of encouragement that fed into Sam's bravado. He gestured widely, mimicking the movements he might display on a stage—a grand rock star performance at its finest. “You know those moments when I grab the mic and the audience goes wild? That’s all me, baby! I’ll have you guys begging for an encore! I’ve seen it, all the signs, it’s me and my woah’s against the world!”

As he recounted the latest practice where he imagined himself commanding the crowd, you watched him intently, your gaze piercing through the playful banter that surrounded you. There was a glimmer of pride in your chest, mixed with something akin to urgency. Sam was riding high on the waves of confidence, but you knew the others—caught up in their cheers—weren’t fully aware of the path he was navigating with more than just bravado.

As Sam gestured animatedly to make his point, you leaned in slightly, letting the heat of your body brush against his, sending an unspoken warning through the space between you. You shot him a look—sharp yet teasing—a promise that he would be held accountable for this newfound arrogance. There was something about the way his eyes sparkled in that moment, a flicker of realization mixed with challenge, as if he eagerly accepted your silent contract.

Not wanting to let the opportunity slip away, you placed your hand lightly on his thigh, just above his kneecap, allowing your fingertips to graze his jeans as you locked your eyes onto his. The gesture was casual enough for the others to remain oblivious, but you could feel the heat radiating from him as he paused mid-sentence, caught in the tension brewing between you.

His expression shifted slightly at the contact, his cockiness momentarily fading to reveal something more vulnerable, almost blissful. A mix of surprise and thrill danced behind those expressive brown eyes as he fought to maintain his swagger while your hand teased him subtly.

“My sweet boy,” you said quietly, your voice soft but laden with meaning, emphasizing the appropriate mix of intimacy and authority. “You might own the stage, but don’t forget who keeps you grounded here.”

The words hung in the air, and you could practically see him weighing the balance of defiance and submission in that moment. Around the table, Jake was relaying his thoughts on the upcoming setlist, Danny was contributing with his usual flair, and Josh remained a calm presence—oblivious to the inner conversation layered within the hazy air of the bar.

But Sam was no longer hearing his brothers. His focus had shifted; the raucous laughter around you faded into a dull hum as he leaned closer, his voice dropping to a whisper, just for you. “Do you think you can keep me grounded?” There was a playful challenge hidden beneath his words, a desire to see just how far he could push without losing your grasp.

You smiled at him, your thumb brushing lightly across his thigh, sending shivers through him, and you could sense the mix of cockiness and intrigue swirling within him. It was exhilarating and risky; a push and pull that defined the unspoken relationship that existed between the two of you. The thrill of asserting control over his cocky facade, mingling with the rush of knowing he needed you in a way no one else did.

As Sam attempted to regain his bravado and rejoin the conversation happening around him, you remained poised, your fingers still grazing against his thigh, maintaining a thread that connected you both—a secret tether in the midst of the evening's revelry. And while the others continued to celebrate the evening, a quiet heat built between you and Sam, stretching the tension just a little longer, each glance and touch laced with unspoken promises of what was yet to come.

You could feel the electric tension humming between you, a current that connected you both amidst the noise and laughter of the bar. Sam's cocky persona was beginning to shift, and you relished the power it gave you in the moment, a thrill that coursed through your veins like the alcohol swirling in your glass. You subtly adjusted your position, leaning in closer to him, your breath barely brushing against his ear as you made your move.

With a slow, deliberate motion, you slid your fingers into the waistband of his pants, just enough to feel the warmth of his skin beneath his jeans. You were careful to keep your movements casual, like a playful caress, but you knew what you were doing. The thrill of teasing him sent a delicious shiver through your own body, and you felt the slightest tremor run through him as your fingers grazed over his boxers.

Sam jolted a little, surprise painted across his features as his concentration abruptly shattered. The laughter from Danny and Jake morphed into a distant backdrop, fading as he focused solely on the intimate connection you had initiated. For a brief heartbeat, you reveled in the way he stiffened at your touch, his eyes widening in surprise, but just as quickly as it sparked, it was tempered with a semblance of his previous bravado.

“Oh—damn it!” he exclaimed, his voice rising a notch as he quickly pretended to shift in his seat, a forced chuckle escaping him. “I just hit my knee on the table. You know, these stupid legs—they’re like a weapon of mass destruction!”

He aimed a playful kick at the table, trying to brush off the involuntary reaction, but you could see the suppressed excitement in his eyes, a flicker of desire mixed with embarrassment. The laughter continued around you, but for Sam, the stakes were different now. You had pulled him from center stage, grounding him into reality with just a few daring gestures, and it thrilled you to see how he responded.

His bravado was still there, just reconfigured amid a swirl of confusion and uncertainty. You could tell he was fighting to reclaim his earlier composure, caught between wanting to stay cocky while also grappling with the thrill of your intimate touch. As you held your position, your fingers barely tugging at the waistband, you took joy in the power you had over him.

“Watch where you’re swinging those long legs, Sammy,” you teased, your voice low enough that only he could hear. You felt a grin tugging at your lips, drawing further out the contrast between his exterior and the hidden desires that lay beneath.

Sam's playful smirk returned, albeit with an edge that hinted at his ongoing need to maintain his persona. “I appreciate your concern, but I’m just fine! You know me—always hitting my targets, even when they’re my own knees!” He laughed off the moment, but there was a flicker in his gaze, an unspoken acknowledgment of the boundary you had both crossed.

The others around the table continued chatting away, absorbed in their own discussions, blissfully unaware of the charged atmosphere simmering between you and the man who was simultaneously the life of the party and a person longing for something deeper in the respite that existed outside of the spotlight. Sam’s hand subtly drifted toward your thigh, seeking some connection, but you remained firm in your teasing, relishing in the way he responded to your every move.

The balance hung in the air: he projected an image of playful dominance, but you both knew who truly was in control. And as the laughter faded into anecdotes and the drinks continued to flow, you were determined to keep him guessing—between his roguish charm and the depths of his submission, you held the key to unlocking the secret behind the man who would one day own the stage.

After a few minutes of playful teasing and lingering touches, you decided it was time to break the spell for just a moment. You leaned back slightly, letting your fingers trace away from Sam’s waistband as you rose from your seat. “I’ll be right back,” you said, shooting him a sly smile before gracefully making your way through the throng of people towards the bathroom.

As you navigated the busy bar, laughter and music swirled around you, but your thoughts were filled with the enticing figure you had just left behind. You could feel the heat of his gaze on you, and it left you with a thrill that combined anticipation and mischief.

You freshened up quickly, splashing cold water on your face and taking a moment to gather your thoughts. Just as you stepped out of the bathroom, you spotted Sam leaning against the wall down the hall, his casual demeanor a stark contrast to the thumping rhythm of the party.

"Hey, I thought you might get lost in there," he teased, raising an eyebrow as you approached.

“I know my way around a bathroom, don’t worry, darling.” You shot back playfully, stepping closer until you were right in front of him. The space between you felt charged, electric with the tension that had been brewing all evening.

“Now, about your behavior back there...” you began, your voice dripping with a mix of authority and affection as you gracefully wrapped your arms around his waist, pulling him closer to you. There was a moment of surprise in his expression, followed quickly by a softening that made your heart race.

“Look at you, all cocky and full of yourself,” you murmured, pressing gentle kisses against the warm skin of his neck. The taste of beer mixed with the faint scent of his cologne intoxicated you further, and you could feel him melt into you, a quiet moan escaping his lips in response.

“Just being charismatic,” he replied, his voice barely above a whisper, but the teasing lilt in his tone had shifted to something more vulnerable as he leaned into your touch.

You felt a rush of satisfaction at the effect you had on him, and you whispered against his skin, “Oh, really? Charismatic or just a little too full of yourself, princess?”

The term of endearment slipped from your lips effortlessly—playful yet intimate—as your kisses trailed further up his neck, delighting in how he reacted to your touch. Sam's breath hitched slightly, a deeper moan escaping him this time, his body leaning closer, inviting you to draw him in even more.

“Princess?” he echoed, a slight chuckle intermingled with the breathy sound of desire. “That’s a new one…”

You pulled back just enough to look into his eyes, which were now alight with a mix of mischief and yearning. “It suits you. Sweet and a little spoiled,” you teased, feeling emboldened by the way he was surrendering to you in the dimly lit corridor away from prying eyes.

He chuckled softly, but there was a hint of submission in his gaze. “I guess I can’t argue with that.”

The air between you was thick with anticipation, as you stood there, holding him close and sharing a moment that bypassed the usual bravado. Sam's vulnerability was disarming, and it only fueled your desire to tease him further.

You felt the world around you fade as you held him, the sounds of the bar distant and muffled. In this private moment, it was just the two of you—intimate, charged, and poised on the edge of something deeper. You could feel the shift in Sam as he melted further into your hands, the teasing banter fading away to reveal a side of him that hungered for something deeper. His body instinctively leaned into you, surrendering to the warmth of your embrace, and you could see the façade slip from his features as desire mingled with a vulnerability that was impossible to ignore.

“Please...” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the pulse of the music from the bar. The word hung in the air, laced with an urgent need that made your heart race. You could sense the tension coiling tighter within him, and it thrilled you.

“Please what?” you asked coyly, keeping your hold on him steady as you pressed another kiss to the crook of his neck, your lips brushing against his skin in a way that felt both playful and intoxicating. In response, you felt him shudder, a soft whimper escaping his lips that tugged at something deep within you.

“I—” he stammered, the confidence he usually wielded melting beneath your touch. “I was only playing, I swear,” he murmured, the words laced with a mix of desperation and a hint of embarrassment. “You know that, right?”

The way he spoke, almost pleading now, sent a thrill coursing through you. You reveled in this new dynamic, the tease evolving into something more profound that sent sparks of excitement racing down your spine.

“Playing?” you echoed, enjoying the tension that lay between sincerity and the playful game you both engaged in. “Then why do you sound so needy, hmm?”

He took a shaky breath, and the way his fingers tightened subtly against your back made your heart race. “I just—can’t take it,” he admitted quietly, the words barely a whisper, yet filled with an urgency that made you smile. “Just... please stop teasing me. It’s driving me crazy.”

His admission was laced with a quiet whimper that resonated within you. There was something exhilarating about having this power over him, watching as he unraveled under your touch. You held him closer, trapping his whispered pleas between your bodies as you leaned in, capturing the moment with the intoxicating warmth of his vulnerable side.

“Aw, poor baby,” you cooed softly, further pressing him into submission with each word, feeling the tension create an electric bond between you. “Can’t handle a little teasing? Is that it?”

He hung his head slightly, the playful bravado disappearing as he chose to simply let you lead. “I can handle it, but,” he sighed, “it’s just…”

“Just what?” you pressed gently, fully aware that you could make him squirm if you pushed just a little harder.

“I want you,” he finally confessed, the admission trembling on his lips as he searched your eyes for understanding. “I want you to stop teasing and just…”

You sensed the weight of his words lingering in the air and felt a rush of satisfaction. Whether he could fully embrace his submission or not, he was visibly caught in the dizzying whirlwind of your control, and you savored every moment of it.

With a sly smile playing on your lips, you tilted your head slightly to gaze into his eyes, your heart racing at the sheer connection you felt. “Tell me you want it, and I might just be willing to give you what you’re begging for,” you teased, knowing full well that Sam was teetering on the edge of surrender.

His answer was a soft, desperate moan, fraught with need, as he looked at you with longing and vulnerability, caught in that perfect moment of intimacy where playful teasing merged with something much deeper.

The atmosphere between you and Sam crackled with unspoken tension and anticipation. You could see the struggle in his eyes as he wrestled with his desire and the last remnants of his bravado. He opened his mouth to say something but faltered, words escaping him as he searched for the right ones.

“Uh... I— I mean, I want you to…” His voice was a soft stutter, the sounds tumbling clumsily from his lips, and with each pause, you could see him trying to regain the confident composure he often wore like armor. But here, with you, he was unraveling, and you loved every moment of it.

“Just take your time, princess,” you said softly, a teasing lilt in your voice, encouraging him even as you enjoyed the power you felt in this vulnerable exchange. It was a dance—one of dominance and submission, and he was all yours.

“I want you to… um, I want you to touch me, but,” he hesitated again, biting his lip in that adorable way that sent shivers down your spine. “Not just like, um, like before,” he managed, and you could see him struggling to articulate his thoughts. “I mean, I want you to really—”

“What do you want me to do?” you asked gently, leaning in a bit closer, your lips brushing against his ear, where you could feel the warmth of his body radiating even through his shirt.

“I want you to make me feel good,” he finally whispered, his voice trembling with a mix of urgency and desire, sealing the admission with a quiet whimper.

Your heart raced at his confession, the heat pooling low in your stomach. You understood what he was yearning for—this blend of teasing, control, and now the promise of something more intimate. It sent excitement shooting through you as you felt his vulnerability envelop you, urging you to explore this new territory together.

“Okay, princess,” you murmured, brushing your fingers against his waist, feeling the way his breath caught in his throat at the slightest touch. Taking the lead, you let your hand find its way down, moving slowly, intentionally, as it slipped under the waistband of his pants. The heat of his skin was intoxicating, and you could feel his muscles tense at your touch.

“Just breathe for me,” you instructed softly, easing your hand further, fingers brushing against him where he was already growing hard. The moment you felt him, he gasped—a sharp intake of breath that sent a thrill coursing through you.

“Oh my god…” he breathed, his words stammering out in a breathless rush as you wrapped your fingers around him, slowly stroking, teasingly gentle at first. “I didn’t— I wasn’t ready for… for that.” His voice was a mixture of disbelief and overwhelming need, a fragrant cocktail of desire that made you want to push him even further.

“Just relax,” you whispered, your voice low and sultry. “Let me take care of you.” You let your movements be deliberate, your fingers gliding along his length in slow, tantalizing strokes. You could feel him respond almost immediately, his body instinctively leaning into your touch as soft moans slipped from his lips, each one igniting something wild within you.

“Y-you’re so—” he stuttered, lost in the sensation as you maintained that exquisite pace. “I can’t believe we’re… here.” His words were punctuated by quiet whimpers, a mix of pleasure and soft pleading that encouraged you to keep going.

“Just focus on how good it feels,” you encouraged, feeling him melt further into your touch. You loved the way he surrendered, the way his body reacted to you so openly, as if you had awakened something inside him that he was desperate to explore.

His gaze was hazy, pupils dilated as they locked onto yours, and you could see the way he struggled to suppress his whines, lips trembling slightly as if trying to hold back a tide of need. “I—I don’t want to hold back anymore,” he admitted, the words spilling from him in a rush as if the dam had finally broken.

“I know, Sam. Just let go for me,” you replied, your fingers picking up the pace ever so slightly, deliberately applying more pressure as you watched his reactions closely. Each flick of your wrist, each stroke of your hand coaxed soft cries from him, pushing him deeper into the whirlpool of desire.

“God, I— I can’t believe you’re doing this,” he stuttered, eyes fluttering shut as he savored the feel of you—so close, so intimate. “It feels so good… you.. oh-”

“Shh, just enjoy it,” you whispered, your voice wrapping around him like velvet as you continued your steady rhythm, feeling the familiar heat and weight of his need pulsing between you. Sam was losing himself in your hands, and with each passing moment, the air crackled with an energy that felt electric, binding you closer in this moment of shared longing.

Though he was still trying to hold onto some semblance of control, you could see it slipping away. The way his hips instinctively bucked into your strokes, the soft, tortured whimpers spilling from his lips—each response was a command to keep going, to take him further into this intoxicating abyss of pleasure together.

And you were more than willing to oblige.

The electric connection between you and Sam thrummed in the air, a palpable tension that surged with every heartbeat. You could see the need building in his eyes as he wrestled with his desire, and the moment felt ripe for the taking.

“Come with me,” you said softly, your voice low and inviting. Without waiting for a response, you took his hand, guiding him through the hall, until you reached the dimly lit bathroom. The sound of muffled music faded as you stepped inside, the door clicking shut behind you with a sense of finality.

The small space felt intimate, charged with a sense of secrecy that only heightened the urgency of the moment. You turned to him, locking eyes, and in one fluid motion, backed him up against the cool, tiled wall. Sam gasped at the sudden shift, his breath hitching as the reality of where you were sank in.

“Now, let’s see how needy you are,” you murmured, a teasing smile playing on your lips as you pressed your body against his. Instinctively, he tilted his head back against the wall, eyes fluttering closed as surrender washed over him. You could feel his warmth radiating through your clothes, his body responding to your proximity and the thrill of the moment.

With a gentle yet firm grip, you resumed stroking him, your hand moving with a deliberate slowness that made him squirm. “Oh god, please…” he whimpered, the desperation in his voice sending a rush of exhilaration through you. You loved that he was so utterly receptive, his body betraying him as he bucked his hips into your hand, seeking more of the pleasure you were giving him.

“You like this, don’t you?” you teased, leaning in closer. Your lips found their way to the sensitive skin of his neck, planting soft kisses that made him tremble. “You’re so responsive, Sammy… I can feel how much you want it.”

“Y-yes,” he stuttered, his voice a breathy whisper, barely holding onto the thread of restraint as he melted further into you with each kiss. You could feel the tension coiling in him, the sweet anticipation of release that threatened to spill over. His breath was ragged, each exhale mingled with soft whimpers as he continued to grind against your hand, pleading for more.

“Tell me what you want,” you whispered against his skin, teasingly breathy, feeling his pulse race beneath your lips. He moaned softly, tilting his head to give you better access, the action allowing you to kiss more fervently along his collarbone and up to his jawline.

“Please don’t stop,” he managed to say, voice trembling with intensity. “I need this… I need you.”

The way he pleaded with you, unguarded and vulnerable, made your heart race. Encouraged by his eagerness, you sped up your movements, letting your fingers slide along him in a way that was both teasing and demanding. He gasped, pushing his hips forward even more, your shared urgency resonating in the small bathroom.

“Just let it all go,” you murmured in encouragement, planting another kiss along his neck, feeling the way his body started to tense and release under your touch. The vulnerability in his eyes mixed with need made your own pulse quicken, and you were perfectly aware of the clandestine thrill of what you were doing.

As his body arched against you, you felt the intoxicating rush of power mixed with a heady desire. You kept kissing him, each touch driving him closer to the edge while you held onto him firmly, urging him to succumb completely. Sam was lost in the moment, fully engulfed in the pleasure you were igniting within him, and you reveled in the connection you shared.

In this secluded refuge, nothing else mattered but the two of you, the world outside falling away as you focused solely on his need. Each kiss, each stroke of your hand brought you both closer to that precipice, and the thrill of it all was intoxicating.

“Please,” he whimpered softly, a delightful tremor echoing through his words. “Don’t stop. I can’t hold back much longer…”

And with that, you pushed him further into that abyss, teasing, taunting, and fully embracing the passionate moment that consumed you both in its feverish grasp. As the kiss trailed off and your touch intensified, you could feel the tension building in Sam, his need palpable and intoxicating. Suddenly, with a soft, almost fragile movement, he leaned his head against your shoulder, surrendering to the moment entirely. The weight of him felt reassuring, and you reveled in the closeness, as though the two of you had built a world of your own inside the stall.

“Oh, Sam,” you murmured, brushing your fingers through his hair as you continued to stroke him with a steady rhythm. It felt like everything was crescendoing around you both; the muffled sounds of the bar and distant laughter faded, leaving just the two of you caught in a dizzying haze of heat and desire.

Sam’s body reacted to you with an urgency that made your heart race. The way he nestled into you, his breath hitching against your skin, sent waves of warmth flooding through your body. “You feel so good,” he whispered, voice shaky and breathless, completely lost in the moment.

“I could say the same about you,” you replied teasingly, feeling him press his body against yours, urging you to continue. With each stroke of your hand, his soft whimpers grew louder, filling the small space as evidence of his pleasure.

“Please…” he whimpered, eyes fluttering shut in ecstasy, his mind clearly clouded with sensation. The tension in his body coiled tighter as if he were a spring ready to snap. You could tell he was close, and a part of you thrived on that knowledge, reveling in the fact that you were the one bringing him this pleasure.

“Just let go, Sam,” you encouraged softly, your lips brushing against the shell of his ear, the intimacy of it sending shivers down his spine. “You’re so close. Just— let it happen.”

His inhale was sharp, a desperate gasp as his body began to tremble involuntarily. With one final, deliberate stroke, he finally came undone in your hands, a deep, breathless moan escaping his lips as he released. The sound was utterly intoxicating; it resonated within you, serving as a powerful reminder of the connection you two shared.

“Ahhh… God,” he gasped, head falling back against the wall, eyes squeezed shut in a mix of bliss and disbelief. You felt him shudder against you, his breath coming in quick, uneven gasps as he tried to catch his breath, body still twitching from the aftershocks of his release.

“That’s it, baby,” you cooed softly, your own excitement barely restrained as you continued to hold him, your fingers gently tracing comforting patterns along his skin. “You did so well for me.”

For a moment, the two of you simply lingered in that post-orgasmic haze, the world outside the bathroom stall forgotten. But as the intensity of the moment began to fade, a serious thought crept into your mind, and you gently pulled back just enough to meet his gaze, wanting to ensure the lesson was conveyed.

“Sam,” you began, your tone soft but firm. “You need to remember something. You only ever get what you want when you behave.” His brow furrowed slightly, and you could see a hint of vulnerability mixed with confusion as he processed your words.

“What do you mean?” he asked, his voice still breathless, an innocent lilt that made your heart ache.

“I mean,” you said, leaning closer, your voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper, “you can’t act like you did with the rest of the band in front of me again. You know how I feel about that.” There was a weight in your words, a warning laced with a sense of authority that he needed to grasp.

He looked down, guilt flickering across his features, and you could see the wheels turning in his head. “I… I didn’t mean to. It just happened,” he said hesitantly.

“I know it did,” you replied gently, brushing your thumb along his cheek to bring his gaze back to yours. “But if it happens again, I won’t be as kind next time. I might just have to teach you a different lesson, you understand?”

There was a moment of tension, electric and charged, as you watched his expression shift. Understanding bloomed in his eyes, a realization of the boundaries you were emphasizing. He nodded slowly, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips, though you could tell he was still processing your words.

“Okay… I get it,” he finally replied, his voice quieter now, softer. “I promise to do better.”

“Good boy,” you replied, satisfaction blooming within you as he leaned back against you, resting his head on your shoulder once more. The combined rush of pleasure and the promise of a new understanding settled between you like a comfortable blanket, warm and enveloping.

“For now, just hold onto that promise,” you said, letting your fingers play lightly in his hair. “And maybe next time, I’ll show you just how kind I can really be.”

With a lingering look shared between you, the two of you reveled in the weight of the moment, a mix of passion and newfound respect lying beautifully beneath the surface, ready to be explored anew.

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the-elegant-necromancer · 3 months ago

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Knightfall on the brain

Cinder knew her power was just another shackle, another leash, another master dictating her life. She only had one wish, one terrible wish, to live free and happy.

Here she was betraying another master for just the smallest chance at freedom. Her life on repeat as she tore her own collar off with her bare hands. Clawing and fire she dug her hand at the shoulder. Obsidian blades, sharper than anything on Remnant.

She screamed in equal parts hate and pain. She dug until she could feel the tendril at the core of the wicked thing.

She caught it. The last collar she would ever wear. Maiden flame ripped through the grimm abomination. She wrenched it free with a chorus of crunching bone and snapping sinew.

At last she pulled the damn thing free, its horrible tentacle thrashing about trying in vain to invade her body again. Fire erupted from inside the grotesque thing.

Cinder threw it to the ground where it writhed with a terrible screeching nearly as though it was laying curses at Cinder. She didn't care.

She clamped her hand to the hole she had now made at her should and seared it closed with maiden flame. Compared to the arm coming free it was nothing, or she had started to go numb. She was probably going into shock. She couldnt she didn't have time for it.

Standing in that dark hall as all of team RWBY and JNRO came up on her. She said she didn't want to work with Salem anymore that she wanted more to life.

She asked what she needed to do in order to prove she didn't work for Salem anymore

"Get rid of the grimm arm" It was Jaune, he snapped at her, as though he had the idea already.

Without hesitation she did as he told her not even entertaining any of the other people there.

As she finished searing the wound shut she shook trying to stay on her feet. They all looked, horrified? Disgusted? All but him, Arc, he was smiling. it was slight but she could see it.

Starting to collapse he was there again, catching her before she hit the cold stone. He moved his hand to where her arm was now missing and did something. It felt warm, like tea on a cold day.

Comforting.

He was using his semblance on her, helping her heal.

Why?

It felt so nice being held by him, is this what it was like to be comforted? She understood it now, or better.

"I did not expect you to... actually... didnt even hesitate"

Still wincing at the remaining pain as it slowly faded she couldnt quite control her mouth in that moment "Did I pass?"

As he kept up with his semblance he huffed a single laugh "You passed, heh, you passed with flying colors."

"Doesnt that mean a get a reward?" She dazedly asked still reeling from the pain

"And what would you possibly want at a time like this?

"Be the one to wake me up?"

"I dont?"

"A maiden needs a kiss to be woken and freed from the spell. "

"Ah, wow, okay..."

"Please." She pleaded, she never pleaded, that was the old Cinder, she was free now, she felt new, alive.

"As you wish."

At the protest of almost all of his teammates he leaned down. It wasn't a hot, or passionate affair. Only several seconds and she was once again starting up at those handsome blue eyes.

"Wake up Cinder."

Something was different. She felt, better, but only in her mind. Everything was clearer, easier to see, easier to deal with, easier to just feel things.

"Finally..." She couldn't help the few tears leaking down her soft cheek "Finally I'm free. Thank you... Jaune."

#cinder fall #jaune arc #rwby #rwby fandom #fandom #rwby cinder #knightfall #jaune x cinder

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thewornoutandtired · 11 months ago

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Teratophilia: Sirens

As our ship neared the island, the captain warned us to plug our ears. He said he wouldn’t be sending any of his own men to come save us if we didn’t listen. The sirens were dangerous, and would surely bring death to whomever listened to their song.

I had my own theories about the sirens, however, and deemed not to cover my ears. Even if I did wind up stranded, ships passed by this area with rather alarming regularity considering how dangerous it was. I figured that I could survive that long, provided that I wasn’t drowned or eaten alive by the very creatures I was hoping to see.

When we were within range of the song, the effects were immediate. I was out on the deck, leaning on the railing and hoping to spot them through the mist surrounding the island. For a split second, I thought I caught a strange looking shadow in the gloom, but I wasn’t sure enough to call it for what it was.

The song appeared out of nowhere, promising me fame and power if I could only reach them and slay them. While their voices were pleasant, I had no desire to do such a thing, and I was able to resist the compulsion. They sang about the money and wealth that had been amassed on their island next, and that didn’t truly sway me either. It was when their song turned to promises of love, of caring, of being cherished, that I found myself leaping overboard without a second thought.

For someone as afraid of the ocean as I am, there was no fear in my heart as I began to swim through the waves. The sirens’ call seemed to change direction, with me following close behind it. In the still-conscious part of my brain, I took notice that they were leading me away from shipwrecks.

When I reached the sirens, they stopped singing just long enough for me to recognize that they had. The sirens looked precisely as the stories has said, birds with the faces of beautiful women, but with monstrous mouths full of sharp teeth. While I wasn’t upset by their appearance to begin with, as they started to sing again they were suddenly the most beautiful creatures in existence.

Their song changed tone slightly now that I stood before them. They were still singing about wanting to take care of me, but there was an undertone in it that wasn’t there before. Before I could even realize what was happening, I was undressing.

The sirens didn’t seem to have much desire in doing it themselves, instead telling me what they wanted me to do. I was sat down on the rocks in front of them, my legs spread wide in front of them all. In spite of the spell on me, I blushed from the intensity of their stares. It felt like I was being inspected by them, until finally they told me to start touching myself.

I was completely under their control as they treated me like an experiment. They constantly had me change positions, speed, and where I was touching myself. They seemed to enjoy my whining as I got close, as they’d wait until I was almost over the line and then make me completely stop. They did it over and over again, and I could feel myself losing more and more control each time. By the time they mercifully let me finish, I could barely even think strait. As I laid there, trying to remember my own name, I heard them start singing again.

They had me clean myself up, not wasting a single drop, then went about seeing how else they could bring me over the edge again. When they asked me where I was most sensitive, I answered before I could even think about it, like I had been given a truth serum. They seemed thrilled at that aspect of their spell, and proceeded to make me admit even more to them: fantasies, fears, and loves, nothing was off limits.

By the time they finished using the knowledge I had given them against me, I was too exhausted to even move. I was completely spent, and had finished dry several times. Even their song couldn’t rouse movement from me, and their singing changed again. The flow of irresistible orders faded, and a new chorus began.

They sang about making good on their words, how they would take care of me. The cleaned me off before snuggling in against me. I thought they were arguing about which one of them my head would rest on, but I was barely conscious enough to hear them at all. They gave me one last order, which I would have followed even without a spell underlying it.

“Sleep, little one.”

When I woke next, I was in a nest surrounded by bird women. According to them, I had started shivering from the cold night air and the ocean breeze, and they piled onto me to keep me warm. It had worked, and they were every bit as thrilled as I was. They said they would take care of me until the next ship came by, but that I couldn’t stay forever. When I asked them why, they didn’t answer, but that was okay. I told them I was theirs until then.

We lived peacefully for a while. They treated me like a toy at times, like a pet at others. Once they learned that I obeyed orders regardless, they started singing only when they wanted to see me do something for their enjoyment. They’d use me to their own satisfaction, whatever that was, then clean me and put me to bed.

It was a wonderful time, but I had to leave eventually.

The goodbye was tearful, and I told them that I would stop again if I was ever near this place again. They wished me well before commanding me to swim for the passing ship. The captain was shocked to see me, but was kind enough to clothe me and offer me space if I’d work off my debt. By the time we reached landfall, I had written the entirety of my adventure down.

There was a reason those that survived the sirens claimed they were very kind and nurturing.

#writing #creative writing #terato #monster fucker #monster lover #monster romance #teratophillia #lemon #hitting the classic warnings with this one

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blackberrysummerblog · 9 months ago

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Hi all! Thank you @rimeswithpurple, @cutestkilla, @thewholelemon, and @forabeatofadrum for the recent tags! I can’t believe it’s already this late in the year. It’s not Sunday yet, but I’m working tomorrow so I’m just going ahead and posting early so I can feel like I did something. I know tomorrow can be a hard day for some, but here’s wishing a very Happy Mother’s Day to those of you to whom it applies, and a peaceful day to those for whom it’s a little more difficult ❤️

I’ve been relatively busy with my writing this week (GASP) so I have a couple of things to share. First, some Baz POV from the second chapter of The Field Trap—things are looking up at last:

Eight snakes and a dragon. I knew he would be wet when he came blustering in—it’s why I unpacked his rucksack and laid his spare clothes out by the lit stove—but I still wasn’t prepared for the sight of Simon Snow’s ridiculously thin t-shirt and uniform pants cleaving to his body as though they’d become part of his skin. His chest is heaving, his curls are dripping in his eyes, and he’s holding aloft a brace of four large rabbits that he’s already cleaned.

Honey, I’m home, he’d said, and I know it was a joke, but if I wasn’t dead before, I certainly am now.

“Wipe your feet before you come in any farther,” I say shortly. “Dry clothes are by the fire.” I turn my back and hear him laying down the rabbits and his bow and arrows. Two loud thumps signal his shoes coming off, and then there’s the slushy sound of wet cloth rubbing against itself as Simon makes his way over to the fire.

“You laid my clothes out for me,” he says, like he’s awestruck. I bite the inside of my cheek and stare up at the ceiling, trying not to visualize what’s going on behind me as I hear his sodden clothes hitting the floor. “Baz?”

“What.” Who am I kidding, I’m very much visualizing all of it.

“You can look.” His throat sounds dry. I shake my head, eyes squeezed shut now with the effort of holding my fangs in. “Do you not want to?”

I try to think about everything I told him earlier. He’s going to end up following the Mage to the end of our world someday, and I’ll have to stand with my family. I think about my fangs, ready to burst from my gums at just a hair’s more provocation. I think about how inexperienced with all this I am, and I feel hopeless. And yet…

I turn around.

My second share is from the piece I’m doing for COBB, which I’m really happy to say that the first 5000 word chapter is completely written for. I feel strangely…competent? LOL. Here’s a bit of Dev POV:

And he did. I watched with a cold sort of horror as my cousin, always the more powerful magician of the two of us, stood on our balcony and asked the universe for a handsome man with blue eyes, golden skin dusted with stars, and curls that were neither fully blond nor brown. He would be strong, brave of heart, and make the best sour cherry scones in the world (sour cherry? That’s not even a real type of scone, I wanted to say). Instead I’d said, “That doesn’t sound impossible,” in spite of the sparkly-sounding skin. Baz had given me stink-eye as only he could and can, before adding the coup de grace: “He will have the blood-red wings of a dragon, and a tail.”

It had taken all I had not to burst into laughter at that, but my headstrong cousin was already pressing rose petals into the potion and blowing his breath onto them as he tossed them out into the night air. “Baz,” I’d admonished, but the spell was cast, his heartbroken wish already caught by the breeze and curling up, up, towards where the full moon hung heavy and silent in the sky.

Have a great week everyone! No-pressure tags: @drowninginships @you-remind-me-of-the-babe @nightimedreamersworld @arthurkko @artsyunderstudy @facewithoutheart @iamamythologicalcreature @aristocratic-otter @tender-ministrations @valeffelees @mooncello @confused-bi-queer @beastmonstertitan @prettygoododds @youarenevertooold @raenestee @roomwithanopenfire @asocialpessimist @hushed-chorus @papierhaikuphoto @stitchy-queerista @orange-peony @brilla-brilla-estrellita @ivelovedhimthroughworse @bookish-bogwitch @c0nsumemy5oul @aceumbrellaheroes @larkral @letraspal @stardustasincocaine @cows4247 @shrekgogurt @j-nipper-95 @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @wellbelesbian @carryonsimoncarryonbaz @onepintobean @theearlgreymage @imagineacoolusername @mostlymaudlin @shutup-andletme-go @sailorblossoms @hertragedyconnoisseur @yellobb @ionlydrinkhotwater @alleycat0306

#six sentence sunday #just a day early is all #carry on #snowbaz #simon snow #baz pitch #dev grimm #the field trap #cobb #cobb 2024 #carry on big bang #simon has been rained on #for dramatic effect 😜

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nhl-stories · 10 months ago

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hornylovesickmess – Nico Hischier

Summary: Marie should know better by now, knows she should leave him alone, but Nico's like a drug. One more hit can't hurt.

Author’s Note: Almost a year to the day I finally finished this album series. Phew! Also lol to me thinking I'd have the motivation to finish it in 10 weeks. Seems clear from the title but it does get steamy below.

Word Count: 2.6k

Album Series Masterlist

And I don't wanna be the type of person who calls you up Every time I need to get off

The view from her hotel room is taunting her. It’s sunny and bright on the Hudson River, reflecting off the buildings of the New York skyline.

Most people wouldn’t be too upset about being put up in a nice hotel and having 48 hours free in close proximity to the city, but Marie had moved away for a reason.

And still part of her is stuck here, even at a 4-star hotel minutes away from Newark airport.

So, she does what she does best and gives into her baser instincts.

She’s no stranger to crafting the perfect sext, keeping it tantalizing and teasing enough while still giving her location. Like an eloquent ‘u up?’

Marie hits send before she can second guess herself.

She shouldn’t be reaching out to him, grabbing for that loose thread and pulling for her own selfish reasons. But she’s been lonely since the move and in all honestly, just plain horny.

Nico almost swallows his tongue when he opens the text.

At first glance a simple picture of the New York skyline, but at second glance the reflection of a naked woman comes into view.

It might as well be Marie’s calling card.

He regrets opening the text in the locker room.

“What the hell has you that red Neeks?” Bastian calls from his stall.

He can feel the blush getting darker.

“The last time you looked like that was because of that flight attendant,” Bratter calls out.

When he doesn’t respond balls of tape come flying his way with a chorus of groans.

“It’s not like I texted her first!”

“You never text her first,” Jack rolls his eyes.

“I’m not texting her back.”

“Block her number while you’re at it,” Bratt responds.

Nico stashes his phone away and mostly forgets about the text.

||||

She checks her phone for about the fifth time during drinks with her friends. She knows what they’re thinking, but they’re not gonna say it.

It’s especially kind of them since Nico hasn’t responded. Even though he’s the type of guy to have read receipts on, so she knows he looked at her message.

Her phone buzzes, she pulls it out of her pocket so fast she fumbles it, dropping it on the bar. Her friend snatches it up and laughs.

“It’s a notification from Postmates, you have coupon.”

Marie feels herself flush, embarrassed to be caught like some kind of junkie waiting for their next hit.

“Jesus Christ, just go get laid! You’re unbearable when you’re wound this tight. It’s not even worth the catch up.”

“Fine, I’ll go, but only because I haven’t had sex in months. See you on my next layover.”

“Unless you’re still jonesing for that Jersey dick!”

“It’s Swiss,” Marie sticks her tongue out.

She waves down a cab, and she should give the address to her hotel, but she’s in some sort of horny fugue state. Why go back and masturbate at her hotel thinking about him when she knows his address?

Before she knows it, she’s at his door fixing her hair and trying to lean seductively against the doorframe. Maybe she’s lost her mojo during her recent dry spell.

She knocks before she loses her nerve.

Marie hears someone lumbering along around on the other side of the door. Nico finally answers the door; shirtless with a pair of gray sweats low on his hips, hair flopping about like he just woke up.

Her mouth goes dry at the familiar sight, or maybe she salivates, or somehow both at the same time. She feels so out of sync with her hormones.

But she knows she wants, scratch that, needs.

“Thought maybe the picture just didn’t do the real thing justice,” she smirks even though she kind of wants to grimace at the cheesy line.

“I was trying to let you down easy,” he’s trying to avoid eye contact.

“Well, here I am, easy and ready to be let down on your bed.”

His Adam’s apple bobs as he swallows hard. She can practically see his willpower crumbling piece by piece.

“C’mon, I haven’t been with anyone else since Denver.”

She dares to reach out, running a finger from his collarbone down, down, down, until Nico grabs her wrist.

“Just–“ he yanks her into the apartment, “get in here.”

Marie is flush against his chest now, she smirks, “that’s more like it.”

“Your picture got me in trouble in locker room, the boys think you’re no good for me.”

“Do you want me to be good for you?” She roughly grabs him through his sweatpants.

“I don’t think you could be if you tried,” he ruts against her palm.

She gentles her touch in response, she wants to be good, for Nico at least.

Marie can’t make eye contact now. If she looks up all the guilt of coming here after she promised herself she’d stop will come rushing back. She doesn’t have time for that when she can feel him hardening in her hand.

So, she closes her eyes and kisses him. Lets her tongue explore his mouth. Lets Nico manhandle her towards the bedroom. A path she’s too familiar with even with her eyes closed.

She doesn’t dare open her eyes until she’s flat on her back and hears Nico rummaging in the bedside table. As he comes back up with a condom, Marie works on the too many layers of clothes she’s still wearing.

He rolls on the condom and strokes himself slowly, “Is this you being good?”

Marie spreads her thighs and bites her lip, holding back demands for him to get on with it.

He pushes her legs even farther apart and nearly drapes himself over her. One finger runs up her slit, feeling how slick she is with desperation, he sucks the finger into his mouth and Marie can’t hold on any longer.

“Please, fuck, please,” she grapples for his shoulders anything to anchor her in the moment.

He doesn’t need any more encouragement than that to push in one go.

“Jesus Christ,” Marie gasps at the sudden intrusion, familiar as it is.

He sets an agonizingly slow pace, making her feel every unbearable movement without getting her any closer to her climax.

“C’mon Nico, give it to me,” she whines and clenches around him, trying to egg him on.

But it doesn’t deter him from his mission to tease her death, maybe it’s punishment for how she’s treated him.

She tries to move her own hips for more friction and still Nico keeps with his slow and steady pace.

Marie grabs his hair and makes him look at her, “I swear to god, if you don’t start really fucking me, I’m gonna explode.”

The evil little smirk he gives her, makes her stomach swoop.

“I knew you couldn’t stay good.”

“If being bad means I’ll have an orgasm, I guess I’m the devil,” she pulls him in for a kiss that’s probably too much tongue and teeth but she doesn’t care.

Then Nico takes her by surprise, flipping her onto all fours in such a fluid movement she already feels closer to coming. And that’s before he starts railing her from behind. The slap of skin and pornographic squelching fills the silence in the room.

Marie has lost all her witty words, can barely get enough air to make noises beyond tiny gasps. Nico knows exactly where to thrust, how to grip her hips, tweak her nipples, reach between her thighs and rub her clit. It’s too much, to have your body read like a book.

She clenches around him when she’s almost over the edge and feels him release, one hand tightening so hard on her hips it might bruise.

He blankets his body over her back, kissing her shoulders while he continues to rub her clit, buried deep inside her.

Her arms give out when she finally comes, her body singing with pleasure. Nico’s weight heavy on her, but she can’t bring herself to move him, it all feels too good.

She doesn’t remember when they move apart, or if they clean up at all, or if she peed afterward, she really hopes she at least did the last one. Still, she’s in hazy bliss before she’s rudely awoken from her dream-like state by her alarm obnoxiously ringing, too loudly at that.

She has to get out of the bed to find her phone her jeans pocket.

“Shit, fuck, shit,” she swears before having to put her clothes back on.

Nico’s alarm starts going off now. He sits up to see Marie half-dressed already.

“Of course,” he sounds so disappointed.

“I have a flight to catch and I still have to get my uniform and pack my suitcase.”

“Sure,” he sighs as he starts to get out of bed himself.

She probably deserves this, scratch that she knows she deserves this, but doesn’t mean she won’t defend herself.

“It’s a 9:30 Newark to DFW, look it up” she knows her shirt is inside out but that’s how late she is as she calls an Uber.

“Thanks for last night,” she gives Nico a quick kiss and leaves before he can respond.

Of course, when the elevator opens, Jack is the one standing on the other side, with an exhausted looking boy next to him. It’s probably his brother, Marie’s brain supplies the small Devils knowledge she has.

“That fucking idiot.”

“I showed up here, the blame is on me,” Marie holds her hands up in surrender.

“But the inside shirt and messed up hair is probably on him.”

“Probably can mostly blame me for that too, I know you want to.”

The look of disgust on his face makes that very clear.

Thankfully, the elevator door opens before the torture can continue.

||||

Marie goes back to rebuilding her resolve. She was trying to quit him cold turkey, not mess up Nico’s perfect little world again. But she couldn’t resist one more hit of her favorite drug.

Still, the universe isn’t making it easy for her to stay sober.

“You’ve gotta be fucking kidding me!”

Marie and her coworkers all jump at the exclamation. When she turns around there’s Jack Hughes.

Nico is nowhere to be seen, so Marie is sure she can get away without making much of a scene.

“Of all the hotels in a city with multiple airports…” Jack doesn’t seem amused at her response, “I’m just as surprised as you, sorry the universe is clearly playing a sick joke on us.”

She runs off to her room before she has a chance encounter with Nico. Begs off from dinner plans with her coworkers. Masturbates in the shower in hopes of taking the edge off.

She’s wound up like a rubber band knowing Nico is so close. For all she knows, there’s only a wall separating them right now.

And of course, she gives in, because Marie is a fiend and a rotten person. How can she resist when the world laid it out on a platter like this.

She hopes he’s stronger than her and doesn’t respond, but she texts him regardless: I have it on good authority we’re in the same hotel

Marie can barely put her phone down before she gets a response.

Yeah for someone who doesn’t want me interacting with you Jack was quick to gossip

She can hear his tone through the words, hear his husky laugh at his own joke. Her chest feels like it’s squeezing her heart. Makes her act out of character.

Wanna get dinner or drinks or something?

Marie from a few months ago would be nauseous at this kind of proposition, but her present-self feels like she owes Nico… something different.

So, she finds herself tucked into a corner booth at some restaurant Nico says he’s been to before.

And she laughs at his jokes. Brushes her hand over his. Turns a bit soppy looking into his warm brown eyes.

And she knows she made a mistake.

But still, she holds his hand as they walk back to the hotel; swaying back and forth, a little wine-drunk.

Marie walks him to the door like she’s some sort of gentleman at the end of a first date, they both know the connotations are anything but gentlemanly.

“This was nice,” she smiles up at him.

“If you were still in Jersey, we could have nights like this all the time,”

That should deflate her a bit, but she’s made it too far for it to end here with some serious conversation, so she reaches into his pocket to grab his room key and unlock the door, shoving him into the room.

She kisses him, hard and needy. She desperately wants her lips everywhere. She follows that train down his jaw.

“Clearly you want this kind of thing too, or you wouldn’t come crawling to me anytime we’re in the same place,” his hands are bunching up the skirt of her dress.

She bites down on his neck, a little meaner than she should. But it gets him going enough to throw her onto his bed. Her underwear is gone and a finger is pushing into her before she can make any moves.

A second and third are soon to follow. The pressure from his thumb on her clit is enough to make her throw back her head and enjoy the intoxication.

His other hand cups her jaw, makes her open her eyes and look at him.

“This is all I wanted, but you had to be a brat who let me find out you moved by showing up to your empty apartment,” he stops moving his fingers, stops using any pressure.

“I apologized for that,” she whines, desperate and uncaring.

“Did you?” He crooks his fingers just so.

“I gave you a blow job,” Marie grits out.

He raises his brows while he pulls out, leaving her feeling emptier than ever before.

“Fuck.”

The realization crashes over her harder than any orgasm ever could.

She scrambles off the bed throwing on her underwear and grabbing her phone.

“I’m deleting your number.”

“What?”

“I moved to a city that doesn’t even have a hockey team to stay away from you and that’s not even working.”

“You moved because of me?” The crease between his brow is like a canyon.

“You wanted more and I knew I wasn’t– I’m not in a place to give that to you, but fuck! Whatever I’m doing now– I’m just being cruel, aren’t I?”

“I’m not exactly turning you away.”

“Doesn’t mean I should keep using you,” tears she wasn’t expecting start to well up, “Nico you’re worth a lot more than a quick fuck from a flight attendant who happens to be in the same zip code as you.”

Nico just stares at her and Marie knows she has to be the bigger person here.

“You should block me on everything too, don’t give me a way to weasel my way back in.”

Once she’s dressed, she moves towards Nico, moves a strand of hair off his forehead.

She feels like she should say something meaningful, but this isn’t that kind of relationship; Marie made sure of that when she scorched the earth behind her when she left.

She kisses him one last time and hopes she’ll be able to find her next hit in someone else.

#nico hischier #nico hischier fic #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier imagines #new jersey devils fic #new jersey devils #new jersey devils story #nj devils #nhl #nhl stories #nhl fic #hockey fics #hockey imagines

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liaromancewriter · 10 months ago

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It Happened One Miami Night (3/?)

Series Premise: A work trip to Miami means finally accepting that some risks are worth taking. Or are they?

Fandom: Choices Book: Open Heart Pairing: Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Cassie Valentine) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Words: 1,430

Series Masterlist

A/N: I live! Seriously, though, I've been really sick the last few days; today's the first day I've actually felt like writing. I also don't know where I'm going with this series except for this idea of filling in blanks for moments we didn't see. Pray that I figure it out before I start rambling.

Submission for @choicesaprilchallenge24; dialogue prompt "come on, it'll be fun"

She might have been invited (ordered, more like) under false pretenses, but that didn’t mean she was wasting this opportunity. Still in awe of hearing medical greats in person, Cassie Valentine put her hands together for the chorus of applause that followed Dr. Hadley’s fireside chat.

Ethan Ramsey, the epitome of medical excellence, was Cassie’s ultimate inspiration. Yet, Rebecca Hadley, with her profound knowledge and charisma, was a close second in Cassie’s admiration.

Cassie's eyes darted hopefully towards the front as the room began to clear. Her heart sank at seeing the long queue of Dr. Hadley’s admirers. Disappointment washed over her, but she was determined not to let this opportunity slip away. However, the organizers pulled Dr. Hadley away before she could step forward.

Cassie checked the event schedule on the conference app and figured she had enough time to grab some swag for Elijah before the next session. She still hadn’t heard from Ethan.

No! She wasn’t going to think about him. This time was for her.

Ethan was her attending, that’s it. No, he wasn’t Ethan. He was Dr. Ramsey. Cassie repeated this to herself, a mantra reminding her of her resolution to move on and break the spell he’d cast on her.

She thought this weekend was already proving challenging, recalling their conversation after the Nash debacle. They hadn’t even been to their suite yet or figured out how they were going to spend two nights in close quarters. Would he casually dismiss her from his presence then, too?

Shaking off the anxiety, she entered the exhibit hall and made a beeline for the first table. They gave out branded pens; they were nothing special, but her friend wasn’t picky. Besides, Elijah lost at least two pens daily and would use them all.

With her tote bag bulging, she was halfway down this row when she spied a booth handing out frisbees. She sped up, grabbing the last one as someone reached for it. Cassie turned sideways and found herself in a tug-of-war with another attendee.

“I was here first,” she tugged the plastic disk a little too forcefully.

“Debatable.” The man grinned charmingly before letting go. “But my mother raised a gentleman,” he glanced at her lanyard, “Cassie.”

“Thanks,” she stared at the name tag in her line of sight, “Evan. My compliments to your mother.”

“Wait till I tell her how her lessons on manners led me to my future wife.” The twinkle in his eyes told her he was joking.

“Wow, you’re easy,” Cassie quipped. “Beat a guy at the Swag Olympics, and his true intentions come out.”

His lips twisted in a half smile, and he eyed her tote. “First conference?”

“Is it that obvious?”

Evan laughed. “First-timers always grab too much stuff. Then, you realize you can’t possibly take it home in your carry-on and start throwing out perfectly good swag.”

That made her pause. The space in her luggage was indeed limited. Still, she promised Elijah goodies, and she would deliver them.

“It’ll be okay,” she shrugged, unconcerned.

“I heard Panacea’s giving out briefcases,” Evan said, stepping closer, just at the edge of her personal space. “I was just heading there.”

Cassie caught the unspoken invitation in his voice and the interested look in his eyes as he peered intently at her. She started to decline, not wanting another run-in with Declan Nash, when their phones pinged.

“Oh wow, I don’t believe it,” Evan exclaimed, staring at his phone. “They just added Dr. Ramsey to a panel. It starts in twenty minutes.”

He glanced at her over his phone’s screen, his eyes filled with eager excitement. “He’s amazing. Man, what I’d do to work with him. I tried matching at Edenbrook last year, but their residency is super competitive.”

“I know,” Cassie said quietly, but Evan didn’t hear her as he continued talking.

“…got into Grady, so not a total loss. How about you?”

“Edenbrook. First year, internal medicine.”

Evan’s eyes widened. “Have you met Ramsey, then? What’s he like? Are rounds with him a masterclass in diagnostic excellence?”

Cassie wasn’t sure how to respond. Was she supposed to tell a stranger that she had not only met Ethan but fallen hard for him? That when he focused those laser blue eyes on her, she melted, heat pooling in her belly, fingers itching to touch him everywhere?

Ethan was a complicated man who hid his emotions behind an austere exterior. But when he let his guard down and let her in, she fell through a rabbit hole, knowing her life would never be the same again.

“Rounds with him are intense,” was all Cassie said, keeping her expression neutral.

Ten minutes later, she reluctantly followed Evan into the ballroom where Ethan’s session was taking place. Despite the last-minute announcement, the room was almost full, with just a few empty seats scattered around the room.

“See? I told you the room would be packed early,” he said, scanning the space.

They shoehorned their way to the center of the room, hopping over bags and feet to park themselves on two chairs in a row of theater seating. Cassie almost tripped over the ankles of a woman who wasn’t keen to let them pass, but Evan helped keep her upright.

Cassie’s heart skipped a beat when she saw Ethan’s tall figure standing off to the side of the raised dais. He must’ve gone to the suite, for he was now wearing a blazer over the black shirt and gray slacks from this morning.

He hadn’t noticed her, and she doubted he would, given the size of the crowd. Still, she slumped slightly in her seat, practically hiding behind the person seated in the row before her.

“What are you doing tonight?”

She turned to face Evan, her brow raised in confusion.

“A few of us are getting together later,” he explained hurriedly. “It’s nothing fancy—cheap booze, music, dancing on the beach.”

“I don’t know,” she hesitated. “I’m here with my attending. He might need me for work.”

“All night?” Evan asked skeptically. “He doesn’t seriously expect you to be on call all weekend? Give the old man the slip and join us.”

When she still looked doubtful, he insisted, “Come on, it’ll be fun. Give me your number. I’ll text you the details.”

Cassie scoffed. “What makes you think you’ve earned my number?”

“My eternal optimism?”

“Nice try,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m on the conference app. Ping me the deets there. No promises.”

The emcee called the room to attention, and the commotion around them died down, replaced by excited anticipation. He introduced the session topic and speakers, reading a brief bio for each panelist.

Despite her earlier intention, Cassie straightened in her seat, unable to look away as Ethan joined his fellow panelists on the stage. As soon as the applause subsided, the moderator smoothly jumped into the discussion, throwing Ethan the first question.

Sprawled in a deep armchair, he held the microphone close to his lips, punctuating his point with a wave of his hand. He spoke eloquently, captivating everyone in the audience and the panel.

Cassie envied his effortless confidence and hoped that one day, she would be as secure in her abilities as a doctor.

She noticed how relaxed Ethan was now compared to earlier. He was in his element now, and it showed. Unlike the uncertainty of the situation with Naveen, sharing his opinions on managing medical resources during large-scale emergencies was easy.

Evan tried to engage her in conversation, leaning too close for comfort, but she ignored him beyond a quick nod. She hadn’t reflected on this topic before but found the discussion and subject area fascinating.

Cassie thought she knew Ethan’s career well, being his biggest fan and all. But she had no idea he’d volunteered in disaster zones during his residency and fellowship. Was there anything the man hadn’t done in the ten short years since he became a doctor?

And was he just as good in bed as he appeared out of it? The naughty voice broke through her thoughts, making her blush.

Cassie surreptitiously scanned faces around her to make sure no one had noticed her face turning red (or the way her skin flushed from the neck down as her breath hitched). It was damn inconvenient.

Listening to Ethan being, well, Ethan, was clearly turning her on.

So much for her resolution. All Ethan had to do was talk passionately about medicine, and she was ready to kiss his breath away.

The weekend just got a whole lot more complicated.

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

All Fics & Edits: @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @jerzwriter @lady-calypso

@mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16

@justyourusualash @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Ethan & Cassie only: @cariantha @custaroonie @youlookappropriate

#open heart #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #open heart fanfics #open heart fanfiction #choices fanfics #playchoices #choices fanfiction #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week #ethan ramsey x cassie valentine #open heart choices

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orange-peony · 2 years ago

Text

Thanks for tagging me on Wednesday @hushed-chorus.

I’ve just finished the first chapter of my snowbaz fic Hiding, and I must say that it’s turning out more unhinged than I had originally planned. Btw, I’m putting it out there, just in case there’s a kind soul who would like to help -- I’m looking for a beta (just basic SPaG).

Here’s a snippet (Baz’s POV, minor warning for general horniness and wounds, but it’s not graphic):

I bunch up the fabric of his t-shit, instead, and then I cast a spell.

“Lick your wounds!”

I lean down and hesitate for a split-second before I close my eyes and let my tongue run across his skin, slowly and purposely, as an indecent moan escapes my lips while I lap at his wounded flesh. He tastes like singed magic and blood and rich butter. Like the most divine thing that has ever touched my lips and lingered on my tongue.

Snow groans and goes still under me, his breath caught in his throat as I lick him clean, my fangs sharp against his skin, the blunt part of them skimming across it without causing more harm than has already been done. His heartrate picks up, and I can almost feel it against my tongue, a skittish thing that sounds alive, probably scared to death that I’m going to drain him.

I exhale shakily as I lift my head with a considerable show of self-restraint. I lick my lips clean, watching him pant under me, his fingers shaking as they reach for my face, gently cupping my cheek. Crowley, he’s so warm, even though he must have lost a lot of body heat. And he’s only wearing a t-shirt in fucking March.

“More…” he mutters, and I shake my head, because I’ve already taken enough. My nostrils flare, and I worry I might cave in and bite him, to fill my mouth with the divine taste of him, to fill up my stomach and feel the essence of him running through my veins. “More,” he insists, letting his hand move, threading through the hair at the nape of my neck to gently push my face back down.

I realise that it’s six paragraphs instead of six sentences, but hey.

Tagging (no pressure and apologies if you have already done it and I missed it): @avenueofesc, @bubble-gumhead, @pato-roldnart, @crazybutgood, @m0srael, @moonstruckwytch, @peachpety, @vukovich, @thewholelemon, @letraspal, @artsyunderstudy, @chen-chen-chen-again-chen, @captain-aralias, @j-nipper-95, @facewithoutheart (have you read they are my own? Run if you haven’t because it’s sooo good and it made me tear up), @tea-brigade, @martsonmars and @the-francakes.

#six sentence sunday #my writing #snowbaz

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acteur-dramatique · 4 months ago

Text

Chapter Twenty-Seven: Love is All We Need

As the album played on, Adam glanced at TJ with a mischievous grin and reached under his bed, pulling out a six-pack of beer. He cracked one open, then tossed a can to TJ. TJ caught it, his heart racing as he looked at the can in his hand.

“Uh… Adam,” TJ whispered, glancing around as if they might be caught any second. “We could get in huge trouble for this. Like, kicked out of the dorms kind of trouble.”

Adam waved a hand dismissively. “Relax, man. It’s one beer. Besides, everyone’s got some kind of stash in here. Trust me, we’re fine.”

TJ looked down at the can in his hands, feeling a mix of excitement and apprehension. He hesitated a moment longer before he popped it open, taking a tentative sip. The cool, slightly bitter taste slid down his throat, and he relaxed, letting himself enjoy the small rebellion.

Just then, one of his favorite songs on the album began: “Nothing Really Matters.” The gentle, introspective beat filled the room, and TJ closed his eyes, letting the lyrics wash over him. Madonna’s voice floated above the melody, soft yet full of meaning.

“When I was very young, nothing really mattered to me, but making myself happy…”

TJ murmured along with the words, almost as if he were speaking them to himself. “I was the only one…” He thought about how much of his life he’d spent trying to meet others’ expectations, bending and contorting himself to fit molds that felt suffocating.

As Madonna’s voice grew stronger, he felt the weight of each word sink into him. “Now that I am grown, everything's changed. I’ll never be the same… because of you.”

Adam watched him quietly, sensing the depth of TJ’s connection to the song. TJ’s eyes stayed closed as he spoke, as if lost in his own thoughts. “This song… it’s about realizing how much love can change you,” he said softly. “She’s saying how nothing else really matters, except for love—the kind that makes you see the world differently.”

TJ took another sip of his beer, feeling a warmth that had nothing to do with the alcohol. “There’s this line,” he continued, his voice barely more than a whisper, “ ‘Looking at my life, it’s very clear to me, I lived so selfishly, I was the only one…’” He let the words hang in the air, feeling their weight. “It’s like, realizing how much you’ve missed out on by living for yourself, by staying closed off.”

Adam nodded, his eyes thoughtful. “Makes sense,” he said, leaning back. “I think we all get like that sometimes—caught up in ourselves. But it’s hard to find people you can let in, you know?”

TJ opened his eyes, glancing at Adam with a small smile. “Yeah. But once you do, it’s like everything changes.”

Madonna’s voice climbed as the song reached its chorus, and TJ felt a shiver as the words filled the room, clear and resonant: “Nothing really matters, love is all we need, everything I give you all comes back to me.”

TJ felt his eyes prickling with the intensity of the moment, the lyrics echoing a truth he’d only recently started to understand. “It’s like… love, the real kind, is this mirror. Whatever you give, it reflects back on you. And I think it’s more than romantic love—it’s… it’s just caring about people, letting them see you.”

Adam gave TJ a gentle smile. “Yeah. Like letting people in, even when you’re not sure how it’ll go.”

TJ smiled back, the warmth of Adam’s friendship grounding him as the song continued. The final lyrics played, Madonna’s voice softer now, introspective yet somehow brighter: “Nothing really matters, love is all we need.”

As the song faded, the room grew still, both of them caught in the spell of the music. Adam lifted his beer in a small toast, giving TJ a look of understanding. “Here’s to… love, or whatever. Whatever this is.”

TJ clinked his can against Adam’s, feeling a quiet joy in his heart. “Yeah… here’s to that.” And in the glow of the music, the warmth of the song still lingering, they took another sip, both feeling a little lighter, a little more seen.

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surferblues · 2 years ago

Text

keep going | a.b

fuckboy!austin butler x fem!reader

requested prompt ❛ shh. there’s people in the other room. ❜ debating on making a part 2 to this.

warnings smut (18+ only, minors dni), unprotected sex, dom! Austin, praise, p in v, unestablished relationship, spelling errors, and obviously sexual themes. ALL FICTIONAL. inspired and dedicated to the one and only @dreamersparacosm 🫶

Kaia and Austin had been dating for months, but there was always one person that he would let get in between his relationship. you.

But, in your defense, you knew they wouldn't last long, none of her relationships ships did. A year, tops.

Since the time Kaia introduced you to Austin at the Cannes festival, you and Austin had this undeniable tension that Kaia was blindsided by.

with him eyeing the whole night, even when kaia followed him around like a lost puppy. all he could think about was you.

it was the same night, that when kaia introduced you to one another - he and you snuck away to a empty room, and discovered each other in ways that would get you in trouble if anyone caught on.

and continued, him sneaking around his girlfriends back just to fuck her best friend - what a headline.

“Is it funny to make me hard when you know I can’t have you?” He grunts out, his rough hands shoving you into a (hopefully) unoccupied room.

A cocky smirk was plastered on your face as you rested your back against the wall, you bat your eyelashes at him and bite your bottom lip, making him lick his own as you get up in his face.

"she's never been a problem before." you hummed, your fingers working their way towards black dress pants, the satisfying sound of the zipper being unzipped was music to your ears.

“Look at you, such a dirty slut, y'know exactly what to do." he chuckled in amusement, his pants dropping. but, as quickly as his pants were off he worked towards the short dress that covered your body.

“Yeah, yeah. Be quiet.” You pushed his lips against his in an attempt to shut him up, grabbing his collar, and it worked miraculously. While you felt his hungry lips on yours, you also felt his eager hands riding up the tight dress up to your hips.

"no panties?" he breathlessly rasped, pulling away from the passionate kiss - clear humor in his tone. his blue eyes yours, head tilted as you nodded relentlessly.

"it's easier, yeah?" you giggled, but you were quickly cut short when he slipped two fingers into you without warning, making your jaw drop before he clamped a hand over your mouth.

"makes you look like a little slut." he degraded, pulling his fingers out of your needy hole. he hurriedly repositioned you, to where your chest was against the hard wall and your back was pressed against his rising chest. "a dirty one."

you didn't reply to his comments, instead you pressed your ass to his clothed dick - indicating that you were tired of waiting.

his dick was hard, he wasn't lying. he let out a hiss as you rubbed yourself against him, his boxers being the only thing stopping him from entering your body.

"stay still." he instructed, one of his hands flying towards his boxers while the other gripped your hip - arching your back subtly.

it had been a few seconds, and you were beginning to get impatient. "what are you d-" you curious words were quickly cut short, again, when you felt his dick slam into your needy whole without any warning, again.

Austin held you up against the wall, his hand slowly wrapped tightly around your throat, moving your head in his direction, just so he could meet your eyes.

" y'gotta be quiet, sh..." he murmured breathlessly, nodding slowly to make you understand and in attempts to hush your whimpers." there’s people in the other room." you nodded understandably, throwing your head back against his shoulder as you got used to the feeling of his dick in you.

he removed himself out of you, but quickly slammed back in - attempting to find a steady pace. you both let out a chorus of hushed moans.

the boy letting out a slight hissing sound and you biting down on your lip to keep from moaning out in pleasure.

he found a steady pace, thrusting into you so easily, Austin pressed his lips back to yours again, both of your lips parted as he pushed into you perfectly every time.

he always knew how to make you feel your best, he knew your body better than anybody else. It was a blessing and a curse, really, due to the following circumstances.

"please..i ... jus' keep doing that" you whimper, his rough hand removing itself from your neck, and sneaking around your waist to pinch at your nipple.

Another moan slips past your lips when he drags his plump lips down your spine, leaving a trail of messy kisses.

"pussy was made just for me, nobody else" Austin rasps against your shoulder blade, you feel his grin against your skin when you clench around him at his words.

Austin trails his hand down, his finger tips grazing down your skin, this time to rub at your sensitive clit.

and he thought quickly, his tongue found its way into your mouth effortlessly, his teeth sinking down into your lower lip before you let out a soft moan that was swallowed by the kiss.

Everything was happening in slow motion, it felt out of this world. hips thrusting down to meet yours, his blonde locks now messy and damp with sweat hair falling over his forehead as he hung over you. It felt surreal and you couldn’t get enough of it.

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hufflepuffwritingstuff2 · 3 years ago

Note

YES, you should continue! Omg, mom!wanda x teen!reader is my religion, mainly when SW is the mom 🛐🛐🛐

Then continue I shall! This part is shorter but there’s probably going to be several more parts if people are interested.

part 1

Wanda started performing the spell that would keep Y/N safe. She hadn’t worked this hard to keep her just to lose her to Dr. Strange of all people. Red energy swirled around her as graves around the world began to open up, its inhabitants crawling out and heading to Wanda’s towering cabin. The undead army surrounded the cabin’s foundation, preparing to obey the Scarlet Witch’s every command. Wanda flew out the front door of the cabin and landed in front of her army.

“Listen,” she said, “The sorcerer is probably on his way right now to take Y/N away from me. See to it that this doesn’t happen. Protect Y/N at all costs.”

A chorus of grunts and shouts erupted from the army. Satisfied, Wanda stood at the front and waited for the inevitable confrontation.

…

“Let me get this straight,” Wong started, “you want me, the Sorcerer Supreme, to drop everything I’m doing… to rescue one girl?”

“Wanda has her under some kind of spell, Wong, one that only the Sorcerer Supreme can break.” Dr. Strange argued.

There was a long pause.

“…Fine,” Wong sighed, “let’s get this over with.”

…

Wanda watched as the two sorcerers appeared on the horizon.

“Here they come,” Wanda said, “be ready.”

Wanda’s army began to advance. No sooner had Wanda taken a step that her surroundings became inverted and distorted. The undead army looked around in bewilderment. Wanda tilted her head to one side. So that was how Strange was going to play? Wanda stretched out her hand at the mirror wall; her hand passed through the wall as though it were made of water. Wanda smiled; two can play at this game.

…

Y/N looked up from the book she was reading when she heard the sound of sparks. She stared at her bedroom doorway to see a yellow sparks forming some kind of portal. The strange man from before stepped through the portal and into her room. This time, he was accompanied by another man dressed in similar robes.

“C-can I help you?” Y/N asked.

“Y/N Y/L/N,” the second man said, “we’re here to rescue you. Please come with us.”

“Rescue me?” Y/N asked. She pointed to the strange man in blue robes, “you’re the one my mom warned me about. I’m not going anywhere with either of you!”

“If you don’t come with us, Y/N, we’ll have to take you by force,” the strange man said.

Y/N summoned her own power.

“Just you try,” she growled.

The strange man sighed and gave the other man a tired look. The other man nodded and shot out a glowing, yellow rope. It snagged Y/N’s waist and dragged her forward. Y/N threw a beam of ice at the intruders, which they blocked with magic shields. They had almost dragged Y/N through the portal when something caught her eye. Wanda was standing inside her floor-length mirror.

“Mom!?” Y/N exclaimed.

Wanda climbed out of the mirror and into Y/N’s bedroom.

“Let Y/N go now.” Wanda said.

“Not until you release her mind,” the second man countered.

Wanda charged up her magic, her eyes glowing red.

“Time to go,” The second man said, dragging Y/N the rest of the way through the portal.

“Mom!” Y/N cried.

The portal closed before Wanda could get through. The glowing yellow rope around Y/N’s waist dissipated. Y/N got a look at her surroundings. She was in some kind of ancient building.

“Welcome to Kamar-Taj,” the strange man said, “now let’s see about fixing your mind.”

…

Wanda stepped outside her cabin and felt around for the mirror dimension. She cracked it open with a blast of magic, releasing her army from the mirrored prison. The army stumbled out of the cracks, then stood at attention to await the Scarlet Witch’s orders.

“Prepare to leave,” Wanda said, “we’re getting my Y/N back.”

part 3

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afeb · 4 years ago

Text

Fred Weasley - Lover

“Why do I have to go this?” I asked again, wincing down at the small bottle of pink liquid in front of me.

“Because you owe us a favour for not ratting you out to Snape for cheating on your test last week.” George said. “And we need someone to test our Love Potion.”

“Now remember you’ll be obsessed with the next person you look at for twenty-four hours, so look at me.” Fred said.

I rolled my eyes. “It won’t kill me, will it?” I warily asked, bringing it to my nose and sniffing.

“Don’t worry, I was very careful.” George said. “Now bottoms up.”

I groaned and pinched my eyes closed, bringing to the rim of the bottle to my lips and quickly gulping the liquid. It tasted incredibly sweet, so much so it made my jaw twinge in pain. I pulled back and groaned, rubbing my jaw.

“You okay?” I heard Fred ask.

“Yeah I’m...” I opened my eyes and looked at him. “Fine.”

“Has it worked?” He asked.

“Yeah...” I whispered.

I’d never noticed how utterly handsome he was. His cheekbones were sculpted into his face, his nose strong, his jawline so sharp it could cut. His eyes were a deep blue, long hair sweeping in the most beautiful shade of red. He was tall, and built, presumably from all the Quidditch he played. Not only that but he was smart, and funny. Why hadn’t I noticed him before?

“Looks like you’ve got an admirer there.” George joked, pushing his brother lightly.

“You’re so good-looking.” I gasped, falling into Fred chest as I peered up at him. “And so funny and smart and kind.”

“Woah there.” Fred caught me, smiling down at me. “Easy Tiger.”

I giggled. “I never noticed you before, why?” I wondered aloud.

“No clue.” Fred replied.

“Come on, let’s get her to bed.” George said, gathering up my school books.

I practically hung off Fred’s arm on the way to the dormitory. “You smell so good.” I sighed, pressing my cheek against his shoulder.

“Jesus Georgie, how strong did you make this thing?” Fred asked.

George stifled a laugh. “I’ll dampen it a bit.”

I dreamily gazed up at Fred as he muttered the password to the Common Room, leading me inside. Everyone turned to look at us with an odd expression as Fred led me through the busy room. George broke off to go talk to some friends, whilst Fred took care of me.

Once inside my dorm, he sat me on the bed and stood before me. “I didn’t think it would work this well.”

I grabbed his hand. “Your hands are so big! God, you look so strong.” I complimented.

“What’s wrong with her?” Hermione asked, sitting up from her slouched position.

“Love Potion, George and I were testing it.” Fred chuckled down at me. “Tomorrow you won’t feel the same way.”

“But I love you!” I screeched, standing up and immediately wrapping my arms around him. “I could never fall out of love with you, Freddie!”

He laughed loudly and placed me back on the bed. “Keep an eye on her would you?” He said to Hermione who nodded along. “Night Y/N.”

“Night Freddie.” I sighed, smiling up at him brightly. I watched him leave before I collapsed onto the bed. “Hermione, I’m in love!”

She giggled a little. “It’s a Love Potion.”

I sat up quickly. “Is not! You know I had a huge crush on him before this.” I sighed.

I got ready for bed, babbling on about Fred and how wonderful he was. It was nearing midnight and all the girls were tucked away in bed, while my mind was still racing.

“Do you think he loves me back?” I asked out loud.

A chorus of groans filled the room. “Would you be quiet! You’ve been talking about him for hours.” Lavender said.

I sat up. “He’s so amazing though! Him and George have this great idea to open up a jokes shop and I really believe that he can make it and-“

“That’s it!” Hermione jumped out of bed, pulling the covers off my body. “We’re going to see Fred.”

I immediately jumped out. “You’re such a good friend, taking me to see the man I’m in love with!”

I wrapped my arm around my shoulder as Hermione quickly walked to the boys dorm. She banged loudly, for a long time.

“Fred Weasley, you get out here this instant!” She yelled.

Fred swung open the door with just pyjama bottoms on, rubbing his eyes and looking down at us. “It’s midnight, what the hell are you doing?”

Hermione stepped aside and Fred and I looked at one another. “Hi Freddie.” I dreamily sighed.

“She won’t shut up about you, so you’re going to deal with her for the night.” Hermione crossed her arms.

“She can’t sleep in here!” He defended.

“Not my problem.” Hermione grabbed my arm and pushed me into Fred’s chest, storming away.

“I guess we’re roomies for the night.” I winked.

“Oh god...” Fred sighed. “Stay here.”

I did as I was told and waited patiently for him to come back. He soon did, with a thick jumper and white trainers on, grabbing my hand.

“Where are we going?” I asked as I was tugged through the Common Room.

“The library,” he said. “There’s got to be something in there about breaking this damn spell.”

I followed after him, hand still clutched in mine. “I love you Fred, have I told you that? You’re just the best guy I’ve ever met and-“

Suddenly a hand came over my mouth and I was pushed against the wall, Fred craning his neck to peer behind the corner. Seconds later Feltch passed us, frowning before shrugging and going back in the direction he came.

Fred looked down at me. “Promise you’ll be quiet.” He whispered.

I nodded and Fred removed his hand. “I’d do anything for you, Fred.”

He rolled his eyes and tugged me behind him again. Once we successfully snuck into the library, Fred led us through the winding bookcases, picking up various books as we walked.

“Can I talk now?” I whispered.

“Quietly.” He whispered back, skimming over the pages.

“Do you love me back?” I asked, propping myself up on the side table next to Fred.

“Of course I do.” He mumbled, flicking to the next page.

“No, like are you in love with me.” I giggled.

He looked at me. “Y/N, you aren’t in love with me.” He said.

I frowned and pouted my lips. “Yes I am!” I squeaked.

“Shh!” He hissed.

I blushed. “I am in love with you, I was before this stupid potion.”

He stopped reading and snapped his eyes to me. “What?”

I snorted. “Don’t tell me you didn’t know, I have a huge crush on you!”

“You do?” I nodded. “Why?”

“Because you’re smart and funny, and handsome, and you smell amazing and you’re so strong and-“

“Forget I asked.” He said, turning back to the book.

I looked down at my hands. “You’d never go for a girl like me.” I muttered.

“Why would you say that?” He asked, grabbing another book and quickly reading.

I sighed heavily. “Because I’m awkward and you’re so cool. I’m not nearly as smart as you, I feel like you get bored when I speak to you. I’m not very pretty, not compared to some of the girls in your year.”

Fred had stopped reading by now and was intently watching me as I made my points. “Don’t say those things about yourself.” He murmured.

I shrugged. “It’s true though. I’m frumpy and my hair is always a mess, I try and do make up but somehow makes me look worse. I’m not terribly skinny and god I eat my feelings.”

“Hey,” he moved to stand in front of me and cupped my cheeks. “You’re the funniest, smartest, most beautiful girl I’ve ever laid eyes on.”

I beamed up at him. “Really?”

“Really.” He smiled. “How an earth could you think I’d never date you?”

“I never thought you saw me in that way.” I confessed.

“I never saw you in any other way, I thought it was you who wouldn’t be interested in me.” He chuckled lowly.

I sighed. “Oh Freddie...”

His eyes flicked down to my lips for a moment, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His hands still cupping my cheeks, he slowly moved forward. He pressed a kiss delicately against mine, pressing a little harder as a small whimper escaped my lips.

He pulled back. “Better?”

“Marry me.”

He laughed loudly, clamping a hand over his mouth once he realised we were meant to be hidden. “One day.” He winked. “I can’t find anything to break this spell...”

“I don’t want it broken.” I said.

He rolled his eyes and helped me off the desk. “Come on, Lover.”

Fred and I spent most of the night talking in the Common Room, learning new and wonderful things about each other that only made me fall harder for him. I spent the rest of the morning gushing to the girls about my night with Fred, all of them rolling their eyes and trying to get on with school work.

I sat next to Fred in the Great Hall, arm looped through his as I rest my head against his shoulder and listened to him talk to the other boys about the upcoming Quidditch match.

Wait...what was I doing? I slowly moved my arm from his and sat up, Fred curiously looking down at me.

“You okay?” He asked.

“Uh oh, I think it’s wearing off.” George said from across the table.

I looked at Fred. “Oh god...” I blushed as I remember everything I said last night.

“Hey there Lover.” He smirked, right eye dropping in a wink.

“Oh god!” I screeched as I scrambled off the bench and immediately started running away, ignoring the howls of laughter as I scurried off into my own personal hell.

Safe to say the Love Potion worked.

#fred #weasley #fred weasley fluff #fred weasley angst #fred weasley smut #james #phelps #james phelps fluff #james phelps angst #james phelps smut #james phelps #harry potter #draco #draco malfoy angst #draco malfoy fluff #draco malfoy smut #malfoy

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let-them-read-fics · 4 years ago

Text

Too Late To Apologize?

Requested By @rosiesandlilies: “I was wondering if I can request a Rosé x female reader story where Rosie is an idol who also happens to be ur wife and since she and BP are taking over the world by storm, she starts to forget about you and whenever u ask her to spend a little bit of time with you, she gets upset and fights with you. You’re also an important person but you always make time for her. Can it be angsty with fluff 🥰”

Pairing: Rosé x Fem!Reader

Word Count: ~ 6,026

Warnings / Misc: -- Angst, Self Doubt, Strained Marriage / Relationship, Crying, Some Swearing, Fluff

Disclaimer: This writing is a work of fiction, and no disrespect is meant for those mentioned herein.

A/N: Oooooo lord, here we go. I am feeding 👏 you 👏 all 👏 today! This one took a while to write, but I’m pretty happy with it. I wrote it all in one go, starting at like 3am (as usual lol), so forgive me if it’s a little rough. I put a lot of effort into it, though, so I hope you guys enjoy. Thank you for requesting -- Happy reading!

PS ~ I highly recommend that you listen to these songs as you read this:

You Were Good To Me -- Jeremy Zucker & Chelsea Cutler

Surrender -- Natalie Taylor

The Night We Met -- Lord Huron

I Found -- Amber Run

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

Hongdae, Seoul -- 8:00 PM

“Good evening, everyone! Before I open the doors, I’d like to thank each and every one of you for taking the time out of your day to stop in. We couldn’t have done this without your support, and we’re endlessly grateful. We hope you have a wonderful experience with us tonight. Now, without further ado, welcome to La Rêverie!”

To your amusement, the sizable crowd erupts into a fit of cheers once your opening speech is over. Echoes of the joyous sounds carry across the city, wiggling their way through the alleys and streets, bouncing off of the nearby buildings. The customers slowly filter in, greeting and congratulating you on their way; you’re beyond excited to start this new journey, and seeing people so happy to be a part of it only makes you more proud.

Eventually everyone makes it inside to their seats, and you join them.

--- Later That Evening ---

“Y/N, we have a private party that would like to see you. They’re eager to meet the woman behind all of this,” Pierre smirks, quirking an eyebrow suggestively. His demeanor confuses you slightly, seeing as how this isn’t the first time high profile celebrities have requested your presence -- that’s just one of the perks of being a world renowned chef. You brush off his remark as playful banter and send him to tell them that you’ll be out soon.

---

“...yes, actually. Y/N and I were fortunate enough to meet when she was studying in Paris; we were being trained by the same chef. We’ve been close ever since. I’m not surprised that she hired me, though; I’m practically a master in the kitchen.”

At Pierre’s cocky words, your eyes nearly roll into the back of your head. A small grin plays on your lips nonetheless, and you smooth out your top one more time before rounding the corner.

“What’s this idiot on about now? Did he tell you about the time that he nearly got kicked out of our mentorship program for giving Anthony Bourdain the wrong dish?” You ask the table, sending them a glance while ruffling his hair as you come up behind him. They all snicker at that, and it’s his turn to roll his eyes; with an annoyed shove, he scolds you for bringing that story up again.

“Must you always tell people about that?”

Your smile widens, spreading cutely across your face. Mocking him is one of your favorite things to do. “Mhm,” you say simply, nodding your head for emphasis. He attempts to hide his embarrassment, but it only brings a deeper blush to his cheeks.

At the VIP table, the suppressed sound of laughter carries over to you, and you’re reminded of your reason for being here in the first place. Upon offering your full attention to the table now, no longer distracted by Pierre, you’re met with 4 different pairs of eyes on you. Warm, yellow light illuminates the area, the classy overhead fixture emitting a soft glow to cast down on the guests beautifully. It’s cozy and inviting, just like you had intended it to be, and the sight makes you happy.

As you quickly scan over each of the girls, your brain pieces together where you know them from.

“My oh my, it’s Blackpink themselves. To what do I owe this honor?” All of the natural charisma that you possess takes over now, doing its best to override your nerves. It’s definitely not the time to fangirl over them; you have to act cool. One by one, you shake their hands, making sure to give each of them a glimpse of your award winning smile.

Jennie is the first to speak up. “Yourself, of course. You’re the talk of the town, Y/N, how could we miss this?” The way that she says it so casually, already skipping past the formalities, puts you at ease.

“Ah, you’re too kind. Was your food prepared to your liking?”

A chorus of approving noises leaves the table, successfully boosting your confidence in the process. “It was truly incredible, Y/N.” Rosé gushes, her adorable accent adding something magical to the simple phrase. For the first time tonight, your mind goes blank; ever since news broke of your plans for this new restaurant, you practiced to avoid this very thing. As you stand there floundering for a beat, she takes notice of the effect that her words have on you; it doesn’t take long for her to realize how much she loves to make you blush.

“Thank you so much. We’re so glad to have you here tonight.”

“We’re happy to be here! Rosé hasn’t stopped talking about it for the past week.” The Australian’s eyes go wide as Lisa exposes her, and she shoots the younger girl a shocked look. Lisa only smirks at this, her shoulders rising and falling in a nonchalant shrug. Jisoo nods in confirmation, adding, “Yeah, she’s been super pumped.”

On the inside, you’re freaking out. Rosé was that excited to try out your creations? There’s no logical explanation for that one. Your own surprise is evident in your voice as you respond, “Oh really now? And why’s that?”

“I-I’ve just heard a lot of great things, you know? You’re pretty talented.” She tries to sound confident, but the stutter in her voice betrays her. The tips of her ears are burning with embarrassment, and after sending her yet another smile, you decide to spare her by changing the topic.

“Well thank you, again. It’s truly a privilege to cook for you girls.” The conversation continues from there, effortlessly moving from subject to subject, and you love how welcome they make you feel. Occasionally you excuse yourself to check on the other guests and ensure that they’re enjoying their dinner, and every time, Rosé finds herself sorely missing your presence. Despite only officially meeting tonight, she feels like she’s known you her whole life. The two of you clicked instantly, and she can’t seem to get enough of you.

After spending the better part of 2 hours chatting and getting to know one another better, you grow bold and ask the question that’s been rolling around in your head all night.

“Would you guys like to come back to the kitchen for a bit? I could give you some tips and we could make a couple dishes, if you want.”

Rosé nearly interrupts you from how eager she is to accept the offer. The second that you’re done asking, she’s already saying yes. The others happily agree as well, and soon you’re leading them to the back to get prepped.

_________

“Just like this, everyone. Cut thinly here,” you inform, using your knife to point to the areas in question, “...then turn it and follow through with the slices. It should come out diced, like so.” The girls observed your swift motions, peeking over at the small cubes once you’re finished. Things continue on like this for a while, and soon you’re halfway done with the veggies while they’re barely done with the first part of their batches.

“Slow down, Y/N! You’re too fast for us grandmas.” Jisoo jests, her voice bouncy with amusement.

“Okay, okay! I’ll wait, just let me know if you need help.” Your knife comes to rest against the cutting board, and you take the opportunity to lean back against the countertop to watch them work. Your eyes trail over to Rosé, only to find her already looking at you; she tenses once she realizes she’s been caught, and she returns to her previous duties. You decide to tease her.

“Everything alright, Rosé? You seem a little distracted…” She momentarily shuts her eyes at your words, trying to refocus her thoughts and collect herself. A subtle snicker from Lisa can be heard, and Rosé delivers a quick jab to her arm. The maknae lets out a little “oww” before setting her things down to rub away the newfound soreness of her arm.

A little later, Jennie requests some assistance, prompting you to make your way over to her. The station that she’s working at just so happens to be next to Rosé’s, and you’d be lying if you said that didn’t thrill you.

“Do we peel this first or leave it on?”

“Cut the ends first, then slice it in half and remove the outer layer.”

Under your watchful eye, she follows your instructions and is soon back on track. She thanks you, and you bring your hand up to give her a pat on the back. Although she feels childish for it, the action works to make Rosé the tiniest bit jealous; she wants your attention on her.

The blonde clears her throat before speaking up. “Y/N, I need a little help, too.” Your heart jumps at her words, and you fight hard to keep yourself in check as you spin around to face her.

“Of course, Rosé.” She sighs at the way her name rolls off your tongue, and she’s completely convinced that you’ve secretly put her under some type of spell. Her thoughts of you and your mysterious ways are interrupted when you come to stand next to her, your hip lightly brushing against hers.

“Oh, well there’s your problem: you’re holding the knife wrong. Here,” you start, reaching out to reposition her hand in a better spot. Now she’ll be able to control it better, and she won’t run the risk of cutting herself.

“Better?” You ask innocently, missing the way that she bites her lip. The close proximity of your bodies is making her head spin, and she can’t decide if she wants you to stay or go. “Yes, thank you.” She looks like she wants to say something else, but she doesn’t, so you take that as your cue to go check on the other girls. Rosé silently curses herself for missing that golden opportunity to flirt with you, but she takes solace in the fact that she catches you stealing glances her way fairly often. You feel the connection too, and she’s pleased with that -- maybe she was doing something right after all.

The next stint of the night is spent preparing and cooking the dishes you promised them while trading jokes, banter, and teasing remarks. A mini food fight also took place, but for the sake of professionalism you won’t mention that. You couldn’t have asked for a more perfect day.

----

“Goodnight girls. I hope you come by again sometime soon!”

They all assure you that they’ll be back before you know it, and you believe them. After all, they gobbled those dishes down like they hadn’t eaten in days -- it’s safe to say that they enjoyed them.

Rosé lingers in the doorway, eyeing you as you work to clean off the counter. She doesn’t want to go; she’s loved getting to hang out with you. Contemplating her options, she decides to be brave; she tells the girls to go on ahead, that she’ll be there in a minute.

“Rosé, did you forget something?” You ask, looking up at her as you reach forward to wipe any remaining debris off the sleek surface.

“Yeah, your number.” Somehow, she possesses all the confidence in the world now, her new demeanor completely opposite to its previously shy counterpart.

You tilt your head at her, a dumbfounded smile parting your lips ever so slightly. “Bold, are we? Alright, I’ll bite.” You say, holding a hand out for her to give you her phone. Her eyes widen a bit -- was she not expecting you to say yes? There’s no way you could turn down a chance like this. She fumbles around in her bag until the smooth screen of her phone comes into contact with her fingers, letting her know she’s found it.

“Here you go,” she chuckles cutely, an adorable little pattern of blush rising to her cheeks again.

After entering your number, making sure to save the contact and even take a goofy picture of yourself for it, you give it back to her. “Call me anytime, love.” Her smile spreads even farther at the pet name, and she ducks her head to hide her reddening cheeks.

As she slowly approaches the door, walking backwards, she says, “I will… love,” offering you a little awkward salute at the end of it. You giggle at her antics, and soon bid her goodnight.

No more than 5 minutes later, your phone dings as it displays a notification from an unknown number.

“I’m usually not that awkward 🤦‍♀️ pretty girls just make me nervous.” The message makes your heart flutter, and you quickly save her number to your contacts.

“Really? We have yet another thing in common, then.”

The girls watch as Rosé does a little victory dance in her seat, her movements a bit limited by the belt stretched across her body. She’s practically glowing with excitement, her fingers already firing off another reply.

________

3 Years Later -- Rome, Italy

Upon seeing Rosé saunter down the aisle, your emotions get the jump on you; before you can stop them, tears flow freely down your face, and you bring a hand up to your mouth to quiet yourself. She looks bruisingly beautiful: the natural curves of her body are accentuated by the silky material of her dress, and her shoulders are covered in lace. An angel cast down from the heavens above.

She smiles at the audience that’s filled with your close friends and family, offering little greetings as she passes them. Once she and her father make it to the altar, he pulls you in for a big hug, a few tears escaping his eyes. After he takes a step back, he looks between the two of you with pure pride on his face, his hand resting on your shoulder.

The song ends, signalling for the two of you to join hands and face each other, and he returns to his seat.

“We’re gathered here today to celebrate the joyous union of Y/N L/N and Roseanne Park. Two souls destined to find their way to one another, travelling millions of miles in the process. We come together to revel in this fact and send them into their new life together with all of our support.” The officiator says into the microphone, smiling at the two of you. You can tell he loves his job, and he’s damn good at it.

Rosé’s grip on your hand tightens as she tries to contain her tears, but you’re quick to assure her that it’s alright. “You can cry, baby.” At your words, her lip is released from between her teeth, and her tears begin to flow. You wipe them away, stepping closer to rest your forehead against hers.

The ceremony continues on and the two of you recite the personal vows you wrote. Somehow, unbeknownst to you, there doesn’t seem to be a limit to how much you can cry in one sitting. Rosé is having the same problem, seeing as how her makeup is smudging some as the tears wash the substances away. You don’t care though, and you make it a point to remind her of that; she’s never looked more beautiful to you.

“I do.” You choke out, beaming at her as you run your thumb across her knuckles.

“I do.” She responds, impatiently bouncing on the balls of her feet as she waits for those final words from the officiator.

“You may now kiss the bride.”

Her lips are on yours before he even finishes the phrase, her hand resting on the back of your neck as she pulls you in closer. Your lips move with hers in perfect time, working to seal your union in the best way possible. “I love you, forever,” she whispers against your lips.

____

Present Day, 1:17 AM

In order to spare you from the overwhelming sadness that you’re being subjected to now, your brain takes you back to those happy times from the past. When Rosé still made time for you; when she loved you.

Even though you hate it, you still find her in everything. The bright sunshine of the early morning reminds you of all the times she would wake you up with kisses, holding you close. The songbirds outside of your window bring to mind when you’d come home to find her at the piano, alternating between striking the keys and strumming her guitar as her beautiful voice carried out across the house.

You miss that Rosé, so, so much. The Rosé that would call you in between sessions at the studio, if only for 5 minutes. The Rosé that longed to hear your voice after a long day; who fell into your arms the second that she shuffled through the door after practice.

As time has passed, though, she’s seemed to fade more and more from your life; missed calls and texts have become a given, and it takes everything in you to mask your sorrow. Anyone who knows you well at all can easily see through the facade: you’re now a shell of who you once were, your normally vibrant and cheery self gone. You attempt to hide your sadness behind a smile, but it never really works out; your eyes don’t shine like they used to, and your lips don’t quite tweak up at the corners in the special way they had before.

But you’re getting ahead of yourself again. Your reason for crying tonight is simple: for the hundredth time this month, she’s cancelled your date night plans, opting to spend the time working instead. The argument that the two of you had earlier replays in your mind:

"I don't have a choice."

Except, she did. She could choose you, choose to take a break, if only for the evening. You never ask too much of her, knowing that she can't handle even more stress competing with what she already has from the company and media. Being an idol is hard enough, and you know you can never fully wrap your head around everything that's expected of her.

Though, that makes this all the more ridiculous. All you've asked for is a couple hours of her time -- for her to relax with you and get away from it all. Earlier that day you had gone to the store and picked up all the necessary materials to treat her to a little spa day, complete with bath and body oils, face masks, and even some bath bombs.

"Asking my wife to spend an evening with me is not unreasonable, Rosé."

"I'm not having this argument again, Y/N. I get enough shit from everyone else; I don't need any extra from you."

Maybe it was something in how she said it, so final and hateful, her face coming to rest in a scowl. Her arms were crossed as she stood in front of you, and you could see the muscles in her jaw clench and release repeatedly. In some twisted way, part of you was glad to have this encounter; it hurt like hell, but at least she was paying attention to you. She hadn't looked at you for this long in a while.

Before you can even get another word out, she sighs, saying, "I don't have time for this. I have to go back to the studio."

Just as she turns to go, you catch her wrist. With a slightly annoyed look, she turns to face you.

"If you walk out that door then I'm leaving; at least for the night. We need to talk about this, but if you don't care enough to even give me that, then…" you trail off, tilting your head slightly. You want her to apologize, to say how wrong she's been for doing all of this to you -- but she doesn't. Her expression is tired, irritation written plainly for you to see. She pulls her arm away, offering a petty, "Oh well," with a shrug before exiting the house.

How could she be so cold? Maybe that's what hurt the most. Seeing the love of your life turn into someone completely different than who you fell for stung more than any argument ever could. The reality is that she's not the same person anymore. Accepting that would be half of the battle in and of itself.

Your heart is betraying itself, stuck in a sticky situation: you're constantly struggling between your love for her and the respect you hold for yourself. Half of you wants to stay, to make her listen and fight for this; but the other half of you, perhaps the more rational side, knows that that won't work now. You've tried that already, you reason with yourself, racking your brain for any new way to get through to her.

Sometimes it's like she forgets all of the sacrifices you make for the relationship. Despite having your own busy schedule to deal with, you always make time for her. So why could she never do the same for you?

It's obvious that in its current state, this relationship is only wrecking your mental health -- a testament to that is every night you've spent lying awake, sobbing into your pillow as your list of insecurities grows longer and longer. She used to be the person you'd run to when negative thoughts plagued your mind, her sweet words of love showing how much she valued you. But all of that's gone now, leaving you with a shattered heart and racing mind. When had you stopped being enough?

~~~~~~~

It’s late, well past 4AM when Rosé manages to make it home. Practice absolutely wrecked her today, leaving her body exhausted from dancing and throat sore from all the singing she had to do. She’s more than ready to collapse into bed and pass out.

One thing that always stayed the same was your sleeping arrangement. No matter how much Rosé hurt you, you still slept in the same bed. Her subconscious was always kinder to you than she was, anyway; the two of you would cuddle in close like before, her arms wrapped around you as she slept peacefully. No arguments or yelling, you could always count on the nights to heal your heart a little bit.

As she enters the empty bedroom, the memory of your argument from earlier that day comes flooding back. She remembers that you said you were leaving, but part of her didn't fully believe you. She should've known better -- you always keep your word. Guilt washes over her, and she gently taps her head against the wall as a sort of self-punishment for her previous actions. Why did she say that to you? The hurt look in your eyes broke her heart, but she couldn’t afford to skip practice, especially with the comeback quickly approaching. In retrospect, she should’ve just told you that she didn’t feel prepared, and that’s why this practice had been so important. Even though she doesn’t show it, you still mean the world to her. She just so happens to be her own worst enemy.

With a heavy sigh, she makes her way to the bathroom; there she finds a cute little basket of goodies next to the tub, and a note on the counter of the sink. She approaches the basket first, quickly discovering that it holds some of her favorite self-care items from the local store. Yet again, a deep pang of guilt courses through her upon realizing that you had prepared that for her. Defeated, she picks up the note.

Roseanne,

If you’re reading this, then I’ve already left. I don’t want you to worry, if you even still care enough to do that, so I decided to leave this letter for you. I’ll be staying with my friend for the next while. I don’t know how long, but that depends entirely on you. I’ve tried to communicate with you, but we’re getting nowhere; we both know it. We’re not who we used to be, Rosé, and I hate that. I want us to be happy again, but it seems that I can’t do that for you. If you want to end things, let me know.

- Y/N

Rosé’s heart is breaking, splintering into a million different pieces and leaving her with no possible way to collect them all. How had she so royally fucked this up? She only has herself to blame, and she knows that; she can’t believe that she let things get like this. She had been so blinded by the stress that she lost sight of the most important thing in her life: you. It’s slowly sinking in that she very well might lose you for good this time, and she doesn’t know how to cope with that. She can survive without her career, but she knows she can’t go on without you.

----- La Rêverie, 2 Weeks Later -----

She only intended to walk by -- to see if you were there and safe. But as she gazes through the windows, peeking into the place that houses so many of her dearest memories, she’s transfixed. Her eyes land on you, finding you hard at work in the kitchen. It’s always been where you go when you’re stressed or upset about something -- two things that Rosé knows she’s the cause of.

You’re in your element, face donning a look of pure concentration as you prepare what she assumes is a new dish. Your hair’s in a bun, a few strands coming down to fall around your face as you move about. Gravity takes its time in gently coaxing them out of the tie's hold, and Rosé’s breath hitches at how beautiful you look; it’s as if she’s falling for you all over again. She’s always admired your skills, but they hold a whole new meaning now, an unspoken tension in every movement you make.

How had she been so selfish? You had been there for her all along, waiting patiently for the day that she would come to her senses. You would always have dinner ready -- usually one of her favorites, hoping that would spark something again -- but she always brushed you off. She never stayed long enough to see the crushed look on your face, or how the pain was becoming clearer and clearer by the day. She realizes now just how much of a toll her actions have taken on the both of you; you're still just as breathtaking as ever to her, but that special sparkle in your eye has long been eclipsed by something more dull. You're tired of being let down repeatedly, stuck in a constant loop of excuses and avoidance, and Rosé can't blame you for a second.

The time apart hasn't been kind to her at all; there hasn't been a single day that's gone by where you haven't consumed her thoughts. She misses you so badly it hurts, and even now, despite being so close to you, separated only by the walls of the restaurant, you've never been further away.

The distant sound of a car alarm cuts through the silence, simultaneously scaring her and drawing your attention. Before you can spot her, she ducks down; there’s no way that she can face you yet. Taking this as a sign, she decides to leave.

She’s spent the past 2 weeks attempting to spare you by not coming around; she thinks you need time away from her to deal with everything she’s put you through, and she doesn’t want to upset you anymore than she already has. Ever-torn, part of you is glad that she’s stayed away; however, another part of you just wants to see her again. You miss the nights more than you thought you would.

--- A Few Days Later ---

Steady sheets of rain pound harshly against the window, vibrating the latches with each gust of wind. Times like these are always the worst, especially when you don’t have Rosé to calm you down. Violent thunderstorms never fail to frighten you, and this one in particular seems like it’ll be the worst one of the season. Swiftly padding over to the window, you sneak a quick peek outside, only to find the branches of the large oak tree that occupies the yard swaying in the wind with reckless abandon. The sight terrifies you, but you do your best to keep yourself from panicking, even having to do some breathing exercises. Your friend can sleep through anything, and you know she needs the rest; so, you stay in the spare bedroom that she’s so graciously allowing you to reside in, and lie awake.

Across the city, Rosé is tossing and turning. The storm hasn’t fully reached its peak there yet, but she knows how worried you must be. Tears spring to her eyes at the thought of you huddled up under the covers, body trembling in fear as the storm rages on. The deep-rooted shame that she’s grown so accustomed to since you left plagues her conscience, making her even more disgusted with herself.

After turning over yet again, her eyes land on the picture she has of the two of you propped up on the nightstand. It was taken on your wedding day, that stunning view of the venue paling in comparison to your beauty. A sense of determination washes over her -- determination to make you that happy again someday, in whatever way she can -- and she gets out of bed to collect a few materials. She’ll do whatever it takes.

----

The sound of a car door slamming perks your ears up, and your curiosity gets the better of you. Quickly pulling the curtain back, you’re beyond shocked to see Rosé out there, holding something in her hand. Just as you lean in closer to the window to try and see what it is, her caller ID pops up on your phone.

“Come downstairs, please.”

Even with the vast array of emotions coursing through you at the moment, you’re only focused on getting her inside and out of harm’s way.

You nearly knock the door off its hinges with how quickly you snap it open. To your surprise, she’s still standing by her car, but now you can see what she was holding before; a white sign with black writing on it. The words are barely legible with how much it's raining, the dye of the marker horribly smudged, but you can make out: “I’m sorry! I’m an idiot.” It’s like something out of romantic drama.

Before you can even comment on everything that’s happening, Rosé begins the speech that she’s been trying to piece together ever since you left.

She has to raise her voice so you can hear her over the storm. You wonder why she doesn’t just come in, but you think that maybe she’s doing it to show you that she’s willing to punish herself by standing out in the elements. “No words that I say will ever be able to fix the pain that my actions caused. You don’t deserve any of the shit I put you through, and I hate myself for being such a coward. I was too immature to look past my own struggles and just talk to you about them.”

Now, she takes a few cautious steps towards the front door, testing the waters as she scans your face to gauge how you’re feeling. “I guess I just thought I could deal with it like I always do. But losing you showed me how wrong I was; I love you so much, Y/N. I don’t want to end things; I’ll never want that. You’re my world, baby; I’m so sorry that it took me this long to see what was right in front of me.”

How are you to respond to that? Can you trust her? She looks more sincere in this moment than she has in a long time, and that puts you a little more at ease. Her eyes are begging -- pleading -- with you to believe her, and after a moment you step to the side, wordlessly telling her to come in. You don’t even realize that you’re crying until a few stray tears drip onto your shirt, leaving little marks in their wake. She has to restrain herself from reaching out and wiping them away; she has no idea when -- or if -- you’ll be able to forgive her.

Soft pitter-patter of the water running off of her coat echoes lightly across the foyer, serving as white noise for the conversation you’re having. Her sniffles work in tandem with it, and she bites back her sobs in order to get the words out.

“I know this won’t be fixed overnight, but I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you, if you’ll let me. I won’t blame you for a second if you can’t forgive me, either. I just couldn’t let you get away without a fight.”

With each new fresh batch of tears that settle in your eyes, you have to work twice as hard to blink them away. “I-I don’t know what to say, Rose. You’re the only person in this world capable of hurting me that badly, because you mean more to me than anyone else. But I never thought you’d treat me like that. Do you know how many times I doubted myself, thinking I did something wrong?” Your tone is bitter now, voice conveying the pain from those months of anguish that you had to endure, and Rosé hangs her head.

“I know that now, Y/N, and I know that I can never take it back. But God, how I wish I could. I’d do anything in my power to take that pain away. It was never your fault; none of it was.”

You know she’s being honest. After seeing the opposite for so long, it’s easy to spot when she’s telling the truth. You nod a couple times, deciding to pull her in for a long-overdue hug. She’s motionless at first, not quite knowing if you want her to return it or not, but the second that you quietly say, “Hold me, Rosé,” she’s scooping you up in her arms like her life depends on it. Her head rests in the crook of your neck, and the two of you cry together, letting all of the pent up frustration and sadness leave your bodies.

After standing there, embracing one another for who knows how long, she pulls away just enough to look into your eyes. Her gaze subtly falls to your lips, but you don’t fail to notice. “Can I?” She asks gently, raising her eyes back up to yours. “Yes.” You utter, nearly swooning as her soft lips brush against your own. You’ve missed them.

Her chilled hands cup your cheeks with purpose, and you can feel water running off the ends of her hair and onto your chest.

She kisses you in such a poetic way: softly, as if you might break at any moment, but urgently, like a lost soldier finally returning to the arms of their lover. She wants to make you feel how sorry she is, how much she loves you, and this seems like the perfect place to start.

“I love you, jerk,” you say through your tears, brushing your thumb along her cheek as you look into her eyes.

“And I love you, angel.” She picks you up, spinning you around a couple of times before setting you back down on your feet.

After a moment, you glace at the window. “Shhhh, wait. Do you hear that?”

She cocks her head to the side as she listens closely for any potential noise that you might be talking about, but she hears nothing. “No? I don’t hear anything…”

“Exactly; the rain stopped.”

“Huh. I guess it did its job, then.” She smiles, silently thanking the universe for working in its wonderful ways. It brought the two of you back to one another, and neither of you can contain your happiness. Maybe you don’t hate storms as much after all...

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missblissy · 3 years ago

Note

Heyo! Do you think you could write something for demon al finding out his demon s/o also likes to sing? I love singing and it think it would be really cute to do it with Alastor 🤲🏻

((I would love to nonny! Im sorry for the wait :') I hope you like it! I turned it more into a song fic? Like.... A... double song fic xD??? Anyways I hope you enjoy!! Here and Here are the songs used in this fic!!))

He took a deep breath in and held on to it for as long as he could. The one and only joy he really had within the walls of this hotel was this. If it wasn't for these weekend shows, he might have just killed everyone by now out of sheer boredom. Every weekend, the Hazbin Hotel opened its doors to the general public. The lounge was opened up, tables were set, seats were filled. Dinner and a show were to be served to all who came in those doors. Though not free of charge, much to Charlie's protests. But the hotel had to make money somehow, so Alastor was put in charge of that.

The curtains pulled and opened before him and a spotlight flashed upon him. Alastor smiled wide, "Hello~!" He said in a cheerful tone. He was already scanning the crowd of people, looking for you, "How is everyone doing tonight? Horrible I hope!" The audience let out a little laugh at that. Alastor kept looking around, but the seat you normally sat in had someone else in it. No noticed, but there was a twitch of anger in his smile for a second, "Well! Let's get this show started!" He snapped his fingers and the spotlight turned off. Music started to play and soon enough Alastor transformed himself into a more casual outfit. As the music picked up, his spotlight turned back on and Alastor was half tempted to not sing this song especially if you weren't even here. Well, he did only meet you a few weeks ago, and you only did just started some... flirtationship if you would even call it that.

Oh well. Here goes nothing. Some much for trying to impress you with this, "I heard the time just slips from your sugarplum lips. So I go there just to watch it fall and then my jaw just drops when your cherry lollypops! I get nervous when you bounce my ball~" He gave a charming smile to no one in general, unfortunately. Come on, were you late? No... You knew when the hotel opened....

"I get the strangest sense we were lovers, past tense. Like a dog in heat, I just can't be indiscreet and when I see you there I whisper my prayer so sweet~ I'm getting shaky on my feet, I'm incomplete~" Alastor's mind raced while he sang on autopilot. Maybe he just couldn't see you in dark? Maybe you were all the way in the back? "I'll be your one-man band, I'll be at your command! Just say the word and I'll be your renaissance man, I swear! I'll go where you don't dare, I'll bury this affair deep down in Sugartown~"

Alastor paused with the music, letting the song play only enough for him to take a deep breath and wonder where the hell was his favorite little play thing, "I heard your glass hips swayed while the jitterbugs played. Every man was on his bended knee~ And all my hopes got smashed as my nerve just crashed! I was as heavy as a boy can be." He went on to sing the chorus again, while somehow giving up on looking for you in the crowd at the same time. It was almost too ironic that the next lines fit his feelings perfectly, "And if you just can't do me right, then, honey, please do me wrong! I'll be your one-man band, I'll be at your command! Just say the word and I'll be your renaissance man, I swear I'll go where you don't dare, I'll bury this affair deep down in Sugartown!"

He sang on, with a slight hollowness to his voice that no one picked up on. He didn't move as quickly or flash as big of a smile. Alastor finished his little musical number and left the stage with a round of applause, and quickly someone else took the stage. All kinds of people showed up to sing, to even do comedy (Which Alastor did as well, he just didn't feel like it today. Maybe he should have seeing as you weren't even here.)

There was a special place where Alastor got to sit. In the very front, in a booth with Charlie, Vaggie, and Husk. Nifty was never around for these kinds of things, and Angel often made some kind of sexual escapade out of a song later into the night. When Alastor finally sat down with the rest of the group, he found it very odd that Charlie was bouncing with joy.

"Hi, Al!" She said a little too loud. She got "shh"ed by a few people close by, "Sorry-" She whispered out, "Hi!" She said again to Alastor with a little wave of her hand.

His ever-present smile grew only slightly, "Hello, Charlie. Excited for tonight, are we?"

"Yeah!" She blurted out again, with another round of people hushing her up. So this time she whisper-yelled, "You're in for a great show tonight, Al!"

Alastor flickered his gaze to the stage, the same person was still there trying to make music out of whatever horrible sounds they were making. He looked back to Charlie and raised a brow, "I am?" He asked, "What makes you say tha-"

"Shh! Shh!" Charlie held a finger to her mouth and waved her other hand in the air, "It's starting!" Alastor looked to the stage again, now empty with no lights shining on it.

Music started to play once again, but the lights remained low. He could barely make out someone walking in the darkness of the stage, then suddenly, the lights flashed on and it was you, "You call me on the telephone, you feel so far away. You tell me to come over, there's some games you want to play," You stared him down, eyes lock on no one else but Alastor. Finally, the table have turned, and little did Alastor know that he was going to be the one seduced with a song tonight, "I'm walking to your house, nobody's home. Just me and you and you and me alone~"

You quickly take step after step down the front of the stage, matching your movements to the tempo of the song. It was only a few steps before you stood right in front of the table Alastor, and everyone sat at. But somehow you made him feel like he was the only one in the room, "We're just playing hide and seek, it's getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you~ I don't want to play no games, I'm tired of always chasing- chasing after you~" It was like you a spell on him. Your words were sultry and loose enough for him to read between your lyrics. You even gave him that sneaky little smirk before going on to sing, "I don't give a fuck about you anyways! Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you? You never share your toys or communicate, I guess I'm just a play date to you~"

You spun on your heel quickly giving a wave of your hand. You were playing hard to get and you knew Alastor couldn't resist. As you made your way back up the long stage, Alastor couldn't even stop himself before he realized he was following you up there. At that moment, he knew everyone was watching him... and you. How entertaining.

Just as he got close enough, you turned quickly to face him and quickly point a finger at him, then press it into his chest to push him away, "Wake up in your bedroom and there's nothing left to say. When I try to talk you're always playing board games," You then quickly moved your hand and grabbed him by his chin. You gave a dirty little smirk and made sure to give him look he couldn't resist, "I wish I had monopoly over your mind, I wish I didn't care all the time. We're just playing hide and seek~ It's getting hard to breathe under the sheets with you! I don't want to play no games, I'm tired of always chasing, chasing after you~"

You walked circles around him, Alastor's eyes hard on you and watching every move. His smile was weak, shaken, and there was a hunger in his eyes you'd never seen but always wanted to, "Ring around the rosy, I never know- I never know what you need~ Ring around the rosy, I want to give you- want to give you what you need~ I don't give a fuck about you anyways. Whoever said I gave a shit 'bout you? You never share your toys or communicate, I guess I'm just a play date to you."

Alastor made an attempt to reach out and grab you, but he was slowly and only half attempted. You spun by him quickly, missing him, and making sure to give him a wink as you avoided him. But you stopped just shy of him, standing dead center. You smiled, then tilted your head slightly and held your hand out for him to take, "You know I give a fuck about you everyday, guess it's time that I tell you the truth. If I share my toys, will you let me stay? Don't want to leave this play date with you~"

There was a loud round of applause, cheering, and whistling. To say he was stunned, walking around like a drooling dog, that would be an understatement. You smiled wide, giggling to yourself as Alastor started to remember where he was. He didn't like all these eyes on him, and especially on you. He looked over his shoulder and saw Charlie and Vaggie laughing, in a good way, at least. They seemed to be enjoying watching Alastor fawn over someone.

That drew the line in the sand for him. He quickly grabbed onto your wrist and with his free hand, he snapped his finger. In a little cloud of smoke and dust, the two of you were gone from the hotel's auditorium. You watched as Alastor poofed the two of you away, and manifested out in the hotel hallways. His grip on you was tight as you giggled at his flustered face.

Your little giggles grew as you asked, "So? Did you lik- Mwh!" Alastor cut you off by slamming his lips into yours. He held onto you, hands gripping your arms as he dragged you in closer to him. You were caught off guard as he pushed you backward until your back was pressed against a wall. He deepened the kiss, hungry for more and more of you. You moaned, falling into his embrace and giving in to his demands.

Alastor pulled only inches away but made sure to press you into the wall, hard, trapping you against him, "I loved it." His words were deep and husky, filled with a desire you've never seen him have before. The low growl in his voice sent chills down your spine and caused your skin to heat up, "But don't ever do that kind of shit with me ever. Again. Understood?"

You stared back at him with wide eyes and lips pressed together. You nodded quickly and watched as his sinister smiles curled onto his lips, "Good," He gave you a small kiss, then teased you by licking your lips. He knee was quickly between your legs as he rested an arm on the wall behind you. He went to the crook of your neck, whispering in your ear, "Now, where were we~?"

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booksforevermore13 · 4 years ago

Text

The Mystery Girl

This is my too late entry to the Hinny Ficfest. I just got to know about it a few days ago, and I just loved the concept of something solely being for Hinny fanfiction. I haven't been writing very long, but I just had to participate.

Thank you to @clarensjoy for organizing this!

Also written for the Quidditch League Fanfiction Competition.

Huge thanks to my QLFC teammates for beta-ing this!

Prompt 68: "Are you just `going to stand there and gawk?" / "Yes." / "Well stop it. You look stupid." Prompt 23: "I'm not afraid of your sister, you're afraid of your sister." Prompt 29: "Do you even know what a whisper is?"

Summary: "I swear, if you're Draco Malfoy or another one of his cronies, I'll hex you where it'll hurt. Badly."

"I'm not," Harry replied hurriedly, though he suspected even Malfoy would answer no to that.

Missing moment in HBP between Harry and Ginny.

Read it on Fanfiction if you prefer.

...

"She's crazy," Harry heard Ron moan, "and just when you think you've reached the bottom of her craziness, there's a crazy underground garage," and winced as the latter banged his head on the table.

That morning, when the sky was barely blue with a chorus of greys, Harry had heard Ron scream bloody murder and shot up off the bed, only to see him behind a huge oval mirror — courtesy of Neville's grandmother — and went back under the covers. He'd figured that if Ron was potentially being threatened by a crazed homicidal maniac, he wouldn't have been screaming about it while standing behind a century old mirror. So he'd gone back to bed and been woken up an hour and a half later by a snickering Fred and George on a visit to Hogwarts, who'd informed him of a very distraught Ron in the Great Hall.

Of course, he'd rushed out, slipping on a shirt backwards, and scrambling towards the Great Hall, heedless of the beautiful day outside and how perfect the wind was for a game of Quidditch, closely followed by the twins, who snickered all the way there. It was only when he reached it did he fully grasp that the situation couldn't have been too bad if the twins were snickering.

Worst case was, there'd been a prank gone wrong. Ron being on the opposite side of it.

Harry squinted as he walked forward, eyebrows furrowed as he tried to discern the misshapen blob on top of Ron's head. For a second there, it did look like a spell gone wrong and Harry felt a twinge of panic as he walked faster. It was red from what he could see, and he came to a stop as he realised that it looked frighteningly like a poorly knit hat.

"Why," Harry said, still squinting, "are you wearing that?"

Ron didn't answer, instead wailing as he buried his head in his hands. Harry shared a look with a still snickering Fred and George who'd taken a seat on either side of Ron while Harry took the seat opposite.

"Beautiful hat eh, Ronniekins?" Fred said, in a vaguely condescending tone. "Though, if I might say, a poor choice for impressing darling Lav-Lav."

Ron didn't answer and let out yet another sound of anguish which sounded more like a distraught sob than a yell.

"Are you…. okay Ron?" Harry asked a second later, out of necessity more than concern.

"No I'm not okay!" Ron wailed, "I'm not bloody okay! Do I look okay? No! I'm wearing a bloody woolen hat in the middle of May!"

"We've noticed," Harry said, as he took small sips from his mug. "Why though, are you wearing a woolen hat?"

"Oh, let us," Fred said, a sly grin on his face as he bent forward and ripped Ron's hat off.

George howled in laughter as Harry choked and spluttered out his pumpkin juice, coughing violently as Ron lunged forward at Fred, who dangled the hat at arm's reach.

"You've got pink hair," Harry laughed at the same time Ron yelled at Fred to give back his hat or go and do something he dared not mention in front of Mrs. Weasley.

"Oh, Ronnikins," Fred laughed.

"you look so awfully good —" George quipped.

"— have we mentioned?"

"Suits your brows," which were also pink.

"— and your eyes —"

"— not to mention the lips." George puckered his lips slightly, making a popping sound that only managed to anger Ron even more as he looked fit to murder.

"Mind your own bloody business," he yelled at anyone who looked twice at him, or more specifically, at his head.

"It's pink!" Harry giggled again, covering his mouth as Ron shot him a glare, before dissolving in hysterics again.

"It's lavender, I'll have you know," he grumbled.

Harry laughed harder, before finding it in himself to sober down. Fred and George, though, paid no heed as they continued laughing hysterically, Fred even going to lengths to ruffle Ron's lavender hair, met by a glare and a well-placed curse word.

"What were you trying to do?" Harry said, glancing at Fred as he bit back a smile. "Match with Lavender?"

"Sure, yeah Ron," Fred added, "it'd be even more fun to stick your tongue down her throat with that head full of hair of yours. Imagine her hands tangled in your lavender hair, her lips —"

Ron punched Fred in his side, cutting him off as he doubled over laughing, while Harry drew his legs in as Ron's flung over to kick his.

"Ginny did this, not me," he defended. "And I'm going to have it out with her, I tell you. I'll dye her hair purple, or green, or-or black —"

"Wait, Ginny did this?" Harry gaped. "Wow, I mean, bad wow, very disappointed wow," he said quickly as Ron shot him a look.

"You underestimate her," Ron grumbled, "she's the devil's spawn, that one, even worse than these two gits here." He pointed at a smirking Gred and Forge.

Harry smiled to himself, his cheeks reddening rapidly as he spotted George looking at him with a suggestive grin. Fred joined in, wiggling his eyebrows, and Harry ducked down in embarrassment.

"Won-won!" he winced as heard a shriek cut through the silence, "ohh, my precious Wonnie-boo!" He cringed as he heard Lavender making kissing noises as she ran over to where they were sitting.

"Murder me, Harry," Ron muttered.

"Yeah, no," Harry replied, "you're doing a pretty good job yourself," he shook his head as he picked up a piece of toast, quickly leaving as Lavender threw herself over Ron.

…

He was screwed.

His assurance of his screwed-ness became even stronger as he heard Filch hurrying down the corridor and calling out for Mrs. Norris. The dastardly cat was going to die a horrible death, Harry was sure of it, and he cringed as he heard another pair of footsteps right outside the broom cupboard.

The small space was cramped, just high enough for Harry to rise up to his full height, and it was dark. Pitch dark, and if this was the metaphorical colour black — as Luna so wisely commented time and again — he didn't like it very much.

Harry held his breath as hurried footsteps stopped in front of the cupboard and turned around to hide his face as the door opened, eyes blinded by the light outside. He heard the door close again.

And then the blackness resumed.

That was until he felt a hand push him backwards roughly and he shrieked, his hands going up in mock defence.

"Who the hell are you?" the person demanded, and Harry discerned it to be distinctly feminine, and familiar. Very familiar, he thought.

He stayed silent though, wary of giving his identity away to a girl in a broom cupboard. Perhaps, he thought, she'd get the memo and leave, though he couldn't for his life guess why she had been hiding there in the first place.

The girl stayed silent for a second, probably waiting for a response before she said fiercely. "I swear, if you're Draco Malfoy or another one of his cronies, I'll hex you where it'll hurt. Badly."

"I'm not," Harry replied hurriedly, though he suspected even Malfoy would answer no to that. But the girl seemed satisfied as she humphed and turned around. There was a soft mellow in the mystery girl's voice and he knew he'd heard it before, he just couldn't place where.

"What are you doing here?" Harry asked, before cursing under his breath. Normal conversation generally required a 'who are you?' and mutual knowledge of their identities, but clearly, that wasn't the case here, and anyway, Harry had a slight feeling that the girl wouldn't disclose her identity even if he asked.

He waited. And then sighed as the girl remained silent.

"You're talking too loud," she said finally. "Obviously, you're hiding in here from something, or someone," she snorted there and Harry smiled, "so if you don't talk softly, then you're going to get us caught."

"Filch's cat," Harry said.

"What?"

"I'm hiding from Filch's cat."

"Oh," the girl gave a humorless chuckle, "bloody thing's going to have a miserable death. I'm sure of it."

"So I take it you're hiding from her, too?"

"Filch actually," the girl said, "and I suppose that includes the cat too."

"What did you do?"

"Set off fifteen dung bombs in his office," and Harry could swear she had a tinge of pride in her voice, and for a moment, marveled at the nerve of this girl who'd threatened to hex his parts off the first minute they'd met, now claiming to have thrashed Filch's den. There were very few in the school who had the guts to do that, and Harry felt himself flushing as he wondered whether the girl in front of him was Ginny.

Before he could say anything more though, she stepped forward and pried open the door, peeking out to look for what Harry knew now was Mrs. Norris and her owner.

He caught a glimpse of her red hair as the door opened, and his suspicions about her identity grew and almost the very next second, the girl shut the door close, and he could make out her leaning on it.

"Bloody hell," she cursed, and Harry for the second time was flooded with how familiar that sounded, and how he had heard Ginny curse like that before as he felt her push him against the back wall of the cupboard and shuffle in behind him, so that now they were just barely touching, yet not, her body shielding his. Harry felt himself smiling at how the girl, who he had now deemed about a foot shorter than him, was trying to shield him from whatever came knocking on the door. The feeling felt almost foreign for him, for nobody before the Weasleys and Hermione had ever so readily provided a shield so unanimous and here was a girl, who could very well turn out to not be Ginny, shielding him from a petty predator.

However trivial that sounded, Harry felt a warmth blossoming in his chest.

"Just remember, if we get caught, you're deaf and I don't speak English."

"Huh?"

"I think Filch's coming our way," she explained.

"What?"

"Do you even know what a whisper is?" the girl hissed, and Harry's instincts went into overdrive as he clamped his hand on what he could hope was her mouth, pushing her backwards as he shielded her petite body with his, so that he was now between her and the door.

He waited for the footsteps to pass, completely aware of how close the two of them were, and he waited with baited breath as he heard Filch's grumbles get softer. The moment the sounds became distant, Harry yelped and snatched his hand away. She'd bit him!

"Lumos Maxima," the girl whispered and her wand lit up. Harry blinked as he saw her features come into view and her bright brown eyes glare fiercely up at him before they softened.

"Harry?"

"Ginny?" Harry said, more like a fact than a question, because he'd already known who it was all the way. He just couldn't believe he hadn't recognized her the second she'd entered the cupboard. It was hard not to.

Ginny laughed, and Harry turned red, satisfaction brimming in his chest as he took in her illuminated face. Her chuckles died down as she looked up at him.

"Are you just going to stand there and gawk?" Ginny asked, a smile playing on her lips, and Harry had an unexplainable urge to just bend down and kiss her. They were just a few inches apart, probably the closest they had been since forever, and it would take him to bend just a few inches to capture her lips with his.

"Yes," Harry found himself answering truthfully.

"Well stop, you look stupid."

And Harry laughed, and Ginny joined him, and Harry found himself just looking at her and thinking how beautiful she was. And not just beautiful, she was… radiant.

His hand was still pressed beside her head and she slipped out underneath it, the light in her wand dimming as she made her way to open the door.

"Aren't you coming?" she asked as the door swung open. Harry squinted, his eyes adjusting from the dark to the light as he, for a brief second, noticed how her red hair seemed to light up against the sun, making it seem as if it was on fire.

So he followed her out, and they smiled as they met each other's eyes.

Ginny noticed him before he did.

"Shit," Ginny cursed. "We're screwed."

Filch glared at them as Mrs. Norris purred, and Harry couldn't help but agree.

…

"Oh there was a time when they used to hang students by their thumbs in the dungeons," Filch said darkly. "Those were the days."

"I suppose you were hanged like that a lot," Ginny said sweetly, and Harry nudged her, sending her a warning look.

"What did you say?"

"They probably used your toes. Seeing your thumbs weren't large enough."

"Two months scrubbing the toilets with a toothbrush," Filch screamed shrilly, and Harry pushed Ginny backwards as the man advanced on her, Mrs. Norris following him.

He stopped as he saw Harry's menacing glare. "You, boy," he said, glaring at Harry, "you're going to spend a month in the dungeons. Scrubbing the floors till they shine."

"That's not fair," Ginny bellowed, and Harry pulled her away before Filch could open his mouth. He suspected if they stayed there for a second longer, there'd be murder committed. Or at least a heinous crime.

"Two months in the toilets," she muttered darkly as they walked down the corridors, "that lying, cheating piece of scum," she growled. "And his cat—oh, I hope that cat rots in hell."

Harry laughed, and then stopped as Ginny shot him a look, both of them lapsing into silence.

"Seeing your thumbs weren't large enough," Harry chuckled, seconds later. "You don't take things seriously sometimes, you know?"

"Never take life seriously," Ginny said, and Harry looked at her, glimpsing a side of her he hadn't seen before. "No one ever comes out alive anyway."

And though those words were too crude to be true, Harry agreed with them wholeheartedly.

…

"Wait," he said as they neared the Gryffindor common room, before laughing, "you dyed Ron's hair pink."

"Lavender, actually," Ginny replied, "thought it'd match his girlfriend."

Harry chuckled, shaking his head as Ginny grinned an impish grin. "You're scary, you know." The words slipped out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Amazing, but scary."

Ginny laughed as she leaned against Harry's shoulder. "That's one of the best compliments I've ever received."

"One of the best?" Harry asked. "What's the best?"

"Oh. I don't know," Ginny shrugged, "probably on the lines of crazy ass she-demon who hides under children's beds."

"Really?" Harry laughed, "who said that?"

"Ron. I think Charlie agreed too."

Harry laughed and flushed as his hand brushed against hers. Instinct took over as he interlocked his fingers with hers and Ginny looked up in surprise, before relaxing into his hold, smiling happily. She was beautiful, Harry couldn't help but notice again as she swung their hands to and fro like two children.

But, he supposed, it probably wouldn't hurt being a child once in a while.

He'd never been one before — he'd at least never felt like one, even with Ron and Hermione. Like the entire world, they expected things from him, however few they might be. Ginny never expected; she'd always been the one to give without expecting anything in return. Never once, looking at him in pity or with a look that showed she understood everything he was going through.

She didn't, and she knew that and she made sure everyone around her knew it too. She tried to understand though, but if she wasn't able to, she didn't try further. Never pressed for more. Ginny, Harry had seen, was as open as he was withdrawn. What he saw was the truth — at least to him — and she was fiercely proud of that,almost daring anyone to oppose, but nobody ever did. He liked that.

Harry looked at her once again, smiling as he saw her glance at him through the corner of her eye.

"Oi, Harry!" He heard Ron's voice break through his reverie and felt a surge of disappointment as Ginny spotted her brother and let go of his hand. Ron was wearing that hideous woolen hat again, and Harry and Ginny exchanged glances, looking away to hide their grins.

"Heard you got into detention with Filch," Ron wheezed, "and you too." He pointed at Ginny.

Both of them nodded and Ron looked at them suspiciously before asking, "Were you two together all afternoon?"

"Yeah, well —" Harry looked at Ginny.

"We kind of fell in trouble together."

Harry smiled.

"Can't imagine why," Ron replied snarkily. "And you," he said, looking at Ginny, "don't think I haven't let you off the hook for this." He pointed at his hat, slightly grimacing.

"Didn't know I was on a hook," Ginny said cheekily. "I think you've lost your bait."

"Just taking pity on the number of toilets you have to scrub."

"I'll ask you for help if necessary."

Ron shook his head, exasperated. "He didn't do anything, right? Filch?" he asked, moments later.

"Relax, Ron," Ginny smiled, "I can take him any day."

They watched her walk away, a spring in her step, Harry with a smile on his face before Ron turned to him.

"I'm not going to see you with green hair tomorrow, am I?"

"I'm not afraid of your sister, Ron. You're afraid of your sister," Harry said and he grinned.

I think I'm in love with her.

...

#hinny ficfest #harry/ginny #missing moment in hbp #fluff #romance #humour #harry potter #ginny weasley #ron weasley #fred weasley #george weasley #gred and forge #written for the quidditch league fanfiction competition #hinny fanfiction #hinny prompt #the mystery girl

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