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Wallflower 🌸 // 03
03 - Deflowering
Pairing: Sam Kiszka x F!Reader [Wallflower]
Masterlist: here | Crossposted: ao3 | Playlist: here | Word Count: 9.3k
Summary; After your hangout with Sam at The Arcade turns into something more, you find yourself vulnerable with him in a way you’ve never been fully comfortable with before. When you explain your lack of experience, he takes it upon himself to teach you with patience and care.
Warnings; tooth-rotting sweetness, petnames, alcohol, demisexuality !!!!, loss of virginity (kinda), oral (f & m receiving), unprotected, grinding? riding?, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, squirting, gentlemanly sammy, shower, aftercare !!, unrealistic college experiences lol, 18+ MDNI
A/N; thank you so much to anyone who read parts 1 & 2, it makes me so happy to know it was enjoyed so much 🩷
Disclaimer: this is a work of fiction and does not reflect any members of the band or their real lives/actions/etc. - i hope you like it ��🌸
vibes this chapter; wish on an eyelash - mallrat the alchemy - taylor swift touch tank - quinnie can’t help falling in love - kacey musgraves
The next day snailed by incredibly slow. Something about it felt different but you couldn’t place why. You had raided your entire half of the closet trying to find an outfit worth wearing to an arcade. As much as you wanted to wear a short little sundress, you figured it was best to opt for high-waisted shorts and a light blue baby tee.
Sitting on your folded legs in front of the mirror, you analyzed your reflection. The weight of insecurity yanked you back down to earth from the fluffy cloud you’d been sitting on since yesterday. The dullness of your skin and your tired eyes seemed to scream at you, chants of inadequacy. Of course Sam wouldn’t be interested in you like that, if he was why wouldn’t he have invited you to the event himself instead of Jake, or better yet, asked you on a solo date. He was easily the most beautiful boy on campus and looking at yourself then, you couldn’t imagine him looking twice at you.
This is it, you told yourself.
No matter how much your brain wanted to hold you back, something in you pushed you forward.
One full go, you thought, go all out to impress him and if that’s not enough then you knew it’d be time to squash the infatuation for good.
You pulled out your larger makeup bag that held the rest of your cosmetics outside of your essentials, the one you only took out for special occasions. Along with your makeup you pulled out your favorite hair tool.
You took your time, making every mark on your face with meticulous precision to accentuate your features perfectly - not too much and not too little. That attention to detail carried on to your hair as well, crafting it to the hair that made you feel the most put together, most beautiful. Finishing off the entire look with some lip oil, you looked stunning and definitely the best he’d ever seen you. Before leaving the dorm, you made sure to spray yourself down with your favorite perfume, making sure to hit all the pulse points.
When you arrived at The Arcade, the flashing lights and bustling crowd made it impossible to spot Sam or the rest of the boys right away. You scanned the sea of avid players, feeling slightly out of place as you stood there, searching through the chaos. After a few moments of awkwardly lingering, you heard your name being called from somewhere in the distance. You followed the sound, weaving through the crowd, until you spotted Sam waving you over with a wide grin.
As you approached, his expression shifted. His eyes widened, blinking as he took you in, his gaze sweeping over you in a way that was anything but subtle.
“You look so... nice,” he said, practically breathless, the words coming out on an exhale, almost as if he hadn’t meant to say them out loud. What you didn’t realize was how his nerves had begun to settle in, creeping through him with every step you took. There wasn’t much that rattled Sam, but somehow, in the time you’d known each other, you had become one of the few things that did.
Peach rose to your cheeks at the compliment. You took in his own appearance, his outfit was simple with plain jeans and the same rusty shirt you’d returned to him. As always, he made you nervous as well with his face perfectly sculpted and tan, and his hair voluminous and wavy. You were jealous at how effortlessly beautiful he was. “So do you.” You replied politely.
He smiled a toothy grin at the compliment, and you could’ve sworn you saw a flush on his cheeks as well.
“So…where is everyone?” You asked, noticing that he was alone, and this was supposed to be a group event.
“Oh,” He looked all around behind him at the bustling arcade. “The rest of them brought dates so, they’re kinda scattered.”
You had to keep your eyes from widening.
Did that mean you were his date all along and you had no idea?
“Let’s get drinks first!” He suggested cheerily. Sam had already had a beer to calm his nerves before you arrived, but he’d never tell you that. He guided you over to the neon bar with a gentle hand on your lower back. The warmth of his palm was enough to make you dizzy, feeling the heat radiate into your hips. Once at the counter, you recognized the bartender, it was Sam’s food delivery friend from the other morning. It seemed that Sam had friends and connections everywhere.
“What’ll be Samuel, another beer?” The tan boy asked as he was shaking a metal container full of a beverage for another patron.
Sam quickly diverted the conversation before you could focus on the implication of his pregame beer, “I’ll take an Ale and,” He pivoted to you with a hand waiting for your answer.
“I’ll have a White Claw.” You replied, not wanting to carry around an open glass or be too complicated.
He shifted back towards the bartender with a cheeky smile, “And a White Claw for the lady.”
You leaned against the counter, letting your eyes scan your lively surroundings. The arcade buzzed with chaotic energy, lights flashing in every direction and the air thick with a mix of laughter, competitive shouts, and the relentless dinging of machines. The place was packed — drunk college students crowded around the neon-lit games, hollering at their wins and groaning at their losses, creating a cacophony that was almost as overwhelming as it was fun. It was so packed that you still hadn’t even caught a glimpse of the other three boys.
Thankfully though, since it was an adult arcade there were no children running about. But a room full of drunk college kids wasn’t much quieter or less chaotic. Their energy was contagious, but also a little suffocating. You scratched your arm, feeling the overstimulation prickle at your skin, trying to ground yourself in something other than the barrage of noise. The clatter of skee-ball, the rapid-fire clicks of buttons, and the constant beeping and flashing lights seemed to swirl around you. Just as you took a deep breath, Sam’s hand tenderly found your arm, giving it a little squeeze causing the tense energy in your chest to calm just a bit. It was a tiny gesture, but it was soothing, like ice on a swelling injury.
“You okay?” His brows furrowed up in concern and you were a bit self-conscious that he could notice your discomfort so easily.
You plastered a smile across your lips and nodded, “Yeah, yeah. It’s just a little loud.” You didn’t want to worry him, you knew that once you both were playing something and the alcohol entered your system that you’d relax.
He grinned softly, “Let me know if it gets too much, okay?”
“Will do.” You nodded but wanted to move off the subject as soon as possible, not wanting to make it into a bigger deal than it was.
He handed you your beverage and brought his own bottle to clink against your can. “C’mon I already loaded the token card.” He gestured towards the games and walked towards the entrance, looking over the room as if it was full of opportunities. “What’re ya feelin’?”
“Oh, I don’t know.” You shrugged, suddenly overwhelmed at all the options. So, you defaulted to a classic. “Air hockey?”
A mischievous grin curled at the edges of his lips, “Oh you are so on.”
You giggled as you trailed behind him towards the blue and white table, “You’re right because I’m a fucking pro at air hockey.”
“Oh, we’ll see about that.” He took his spot with the red paddle, leaving you with the blue one on the opposite side. “Ready?”
“Fuck yeah.” You spread your legs into a competitive stance.
Sam slid the card through the slot with a smirk, eyes glinting with playful competitiveness, then the machine lit up with a cheerful jingle as the air hockey table whirred to life. Pucks rattled onto the surface, and you were quick to grab your flat, blue paddle, feeling the cool rush of air from the table against your hands as you slid into position.
With an almost effortless swipe, you sent a puck spiraling into Sam’s goal. Another shot followed right after, zipping across the table like lightning. A playful grin crept onto your face as you dodged another puck and sent it straight into the slot.
Sam, meanwhile, was determined. His brown hair fell into his eyes, but with a swift motion, he tucked it behind his ear, never breaking focus. His tongue peeked between his lips as he squinted with laser-sharp concentration, brows furrowed and eyes flicking back and forth as he tracked every puck that dared to cross into his zone. It was hard not to laugh at how intensely he was taking the game—and yet, it made him look even more attractive, a balance of beautiful and utterly adorable. You could tell there was nothing more in his head right then than winning, even though he wasn’t. You contemplated letting him win to boost his ego but your competitive streak wouldn’t relent.
With one last clank into the goal, your scores blinked on the archway above the table: 280 | 420
“What the hell, you must’ve cheated or something.” He huffed.
“I think this might be a long night for you, Kiszka.” You teased.
“We’ll see about that.” He retorted confidently, squaring his shoulders.
From Mario Cart to coin pushers to Wheel of Fortune and claw machines, your winning streak would not quit. The only game he had had any luck in was a rhythm based game where you had to hit specific panels in time with the beat. He soon caught onto the fact that he easily won those so he had dragged you to every single music-centered game.
“7 Tokens left.” He informed.
“Hmmm.” You scanned over the floor, before you could suggest anything he let out a small, excited, “Oh!”
You look up at him with a tilted head.
He pointed to the back left corner. “Photobooth, let’s go!”
You grinned wide at his suggestion and the pure excitement in his voice, but it quickly fell as he ran towards the booth. You stood there frozen, unexpectedly flooded with the nervousness of being so close to him in such a cramped space.
However, a wave of pride washed over you when you remembered how perfect you made yourself look that night. If Sam was gonna have a picture of you forever, you’d make sure it was a good one.
With newly reinvigorated confidence you made your way over to Sam with your head held high. “Well, get in, let's go.”
“Okay, okay, miss bossy.” He raised his hands up in defense before swiping the token card. He used his hand to pull the curtain door aside and slid into the bench.
When you joined him inside the pod-shaped booth you realized it was most definitely meant to be for children from how small the bench was, with Sam taking up most of the real estate.
“Oh.” You said softly, feeling out of place and a tad sad that it wasn’t something you both could do together anymore.
“It’s okay.” He gestured towards himself with a swift hand. “Just sit on my lap.”
Your eyes rounded slightly in surprise, but you nodded, a bit unsure. As you took a tentative step toward him, your foot caught the step up, and before you knew it, you stumbled, falling right into his lap. A soft gasp escaped your lips as you landed, your heart racing from the sudden movement.
Before you could even process what had happened, his arms were around you, steadying you in place. His hold was firm yet comforting, and he let out a soft chuckle. “Don’t worry, I’ve got you.”
Warmth spread across your skin beginning from your cheeks, it was a simple phrase but one that made you weak in the knees. “Thanks.” You breathed out with a humiliated smile.
He kept one hand securely clasped around your hip while the other fumbled with the photobooth controls. “Alright, we got 20 seconds.” He said, his voice tinged with playful urgency.
“Okay!” You giggled, sitting up as much as you could and ready to strike the silly pose the screen was prompting.
“Oh, wait!” He interrupted and goosebumps spread across your body when you felt his hand cradle your cheek, pressing his thumb into your cheekbone. “You’ve got an eyelash.” Seamlessly, he slid his hand down your face so that his fingertips held your chin while his thumb presented itself in front of your lips. “Make a wish.” And when you didn’t immediately follow his direction, he clarified your confusion, “It’s good luck!”
You glanced down at the eyelash, then met his eyes—deep brown and earnest. The air between you was thick with anticipation, your breath mingling in the small, dimly lit space. You blew a gentle puff of air, sending the eyelash tumbling away, but Sam’s gaze remained locked on yours. The moment felt like it stretched on for far longer than it did.
Suddenly, you were extremely aware of his closeness and the hand that never left your cheek. His eyes darted to your lips, and you felt a palpable shift in the air. The playful tension melted into something more profound, more urgent. Your heart was frantic in your chest and your breath was held in the back of your throat. With every passing second, the space between you seemed to shrink until it felt almost unbearable. You could feel his breath warm against your skin, his touch tender yet electric.
Sam’s gaze returned to yours, searching, and you could no longer ignore the pull between you. Without another word, Sam leaned in, and your heart raced as he closed the distance. His lips met yours in a soft, tentative kiss, your eyes fluttering closed at the soft pillow-y feeling of his lips. The photobooth camera flashed, capturing the perfect moment in a burst of color and light. The world outside ceased to exist as you melted into the kiss, feeling the soft press of his lips and the thrill of something new and undeniable.
You both melted into the kiss, your lips moving together with a tender intensity that felt exhilarating. You shifted in his lap for easier access to his lips without parting from him. Your hands found the sides of his face, holding him there so gentle yet firm. He kept one hand on your cheek and the other on your hip anchoring you in place. The photobooth captured each frame, preserving the sweet, stolen moments for eternity. When the flashing finished, you finally pulled back, breathless and wide-eyed.
His pupil-blown eyes bounced between yours, seemingly searching for something - perhaps some sign that you enjoyed it, even though it was quite obvious you did. When neither of you said anything, he spoke up first. “I’ve wanted to do that for so long.” He breathed out.
“You have?” You whispered back, still in disbelief.
He chuckled, “Yeah, silly. Was it not obvious?”
A blush grew on your cheeks. “Maybe. Maybe I’m just oblivious.”
“I think so, Wallflower.” He smiled and used his hand still on your cheek to smoothly pull you into another kiss. It was soft yet sparking, full of tension suppressed from the past couple weeks. It was nice to finally have him in the way you’d been daydreaming about for so long. When he pulled away, his eyes were filled with both adoration and need. His skin was tingling with excitement every place your bodies touched, and he desired more of you. “You wanna get out of here?”
You nodded quickly, full of the exact same need and tension. “Take me home, Sam.” You expelled on a breath.
After collecting the photo strips that preserved the sweetness of your first kiss together, you both snuck out of The Arcade without a single goodbye to anyone.
The trek home was drunk, giddy and affectionate, new love now sparked fully and openly between you both. It was still so new that all the touches were charged but reserved. It was like driving a new car, so excited to take it for all it's got but wanting to preserve the shiny newness. Your hands entwined together, giggling, leaning back and forth on each other just to feel the others’ warmth.
Once inside the elevator heading to your floor, the playfulness didn’t end. His arms wrapped around you from behind, getting you used to the feeling of his lips on your cheek. It was around floor 2 that a mischievous grin spread across Sam’s lips, his hands slowly headed for your midsection and quickly attacked. You let out a squeal at the sudden tickling, not expecting at all. “Ah!” You got out between giggles, “Sammy!”
He just laughed victoriously as you squirmed in his grasp, counting down the seconds til the elevator doors opened for the 3rd floor.
The second those metal doors slid open you took off like a gazelle trying to escape a predator. “Stay away from me!” You called down the hall without care for the sleeping students residing behind the walls.
“I’m faster than you!” He said, quickly catching up to you.
You ran to the end of the hallway and realized you had nowhere else to go. His door was closest to you and so you scrambled trying to open it in hopes that he’d forgotten to lock it. Unfortunately for you, he hadn’t.
“Ha, I gotcha!” He announced, his fingers finding their way to your middle again causing you to nearly double over in uncontrollable laughter. When he realized you were wriggling around enough to escape, he grasped your waist and lifted you up. You instinctively wrapped your legs and arms around him for stability.
As you slid down into where his hands supported you at his hips, the giggles that filled the air dissipated. You both took one look at each other before your lips met feverishly. It was the first heated kiss you shared together, and it had lightning striking all over your body.
His soft lips that you only just learned the feeling of, pressed hard against your own. You mutually opened your mouths and allowed each other in. He tasted like beer and cigarettes in the best possible way. You wished you could bottle up the scent, taste and feeling of him.
He pressed you against the door as he hurriedly searched his pockets for his dormkey. As he worked, your hands buried themselves into his hair trying to see how much you could distract him. By some miracle he got the door open, took one single loop around just to press you against the other side of the door.
Your tongues danced together, neither one fighting for dominance but desperately needing the other. He pulled away just to drop his head into your neck and had your eyes widening when you felt his lips meet your pulse point.
“Sam.” You breathed out, your legs still wrapped around him tugging his hips tighter against your core. Your eyes fluttered closed at the feeling of him sucking at your skin. The tingling feeling beneath his lips felt like it dropped directly to your center, blooming a buzzing need there. Your fingers gripped into the roots of his hair as you let out a moan you disguised as a sigh when his teeth lightly dug into your flesh.
His hands slid up your thighs, giving them a strong squeeze as he pressed himself further against you, letting you feel how mutual the energy was. He let out a little frustrated groan against your neck before pulling you off the door and carrying you to his bed. He didn’t let you fall but carefully set you down, his mouth never leaving your neck. If there was one thing for certain, it was that there would be evidence of this night tomorrow.
He began moving his kisses down, “I need to taste you.” He mumbled and you froze at the implication. He seemed to pick up on it and stopped, looking up at you curiously through thick brown lashes.
“What’s wrong?” He asked lifting his head up to eye level with you.
“I um,” You began but fell short.
“We don’t have to do that if you don’t want to.” He reassured quickly, feeling a bit guilty for jumping the gun.
“It’s not that I don’t want to, it’s just…” You trailed off hoping he’d put it together, but he anxiously awaited your words. “I’ve never… done… that.” You finally explained with an embarrassed grimace and when the look of realization hit his features you covered your face with your hands. You wanted to roll over and die in humiliation.
“Oh.” He replied simply, obviously not thinking this was going to be part of the journey. But just because he wasn’t expecting it to be part of the experience, didn’t make him any less excited, just more concerned about your comfort.
“I know, it’s so embarrassing!” You squeaked beneath your hands. This was the last thing you expected happening tonight and you were nowhere near ready to explain that you’d only done some of the basics and none of them were ever pleasant for you. You’d get to a certain point with a couple boys but couldn’t do anything more than fingers and handjobs. You always fell short for one reason or another, for a while you thought you might’ve even been asexual, but you were definitely not questioning that label now. You never had real feelings for the other boys, but you did for Sam, and maybe that was the difference.
“Hey,” He said, cupping your hands with his own, pulling them apart gently. “It’s okay. It’s not embarrassing.” He reassured and you wouldn’t have believed him if it hadn’t been for that loving smile of his. “If you want, we can stop now. If you wanna continue, then I can show you how good things can feel. Okay?”
You nodded, “I wanna continue.” You replied quicker than you intended and blushed at the smirk it brought him.
“Okay then,” He smiled and leaned down to kiss you again. “How about we do like…” He thought for a second, “Colors? Like red, yellow, green? So that you can tell me if you need me to slow down or stop?”
You didn’t expect a boy to be so accommodating or understanding, you were flooded with the comforting feeling of being cared for. “Okay.” You nodded down at him as he continued his original path.
His hands snaked down your sides lingering at the hem of your tee. “Shirt?”
You mulled it over in your head, the bra you chose was nice and had some lace, so you nodded. “Green.”
He smiled and helped you slip out of it. He took a moment to admire you, “God you’re beautiful.” His head dipped back into the crook of your neck, placing a kiss below your ear. “I can’t wait to make you feel as good as you look.”
Blood rushed to your cheeks at his comment and sent a flurry of butterflies between your legs. He placed slow open-mouth kisses down your neck, across your collar bones and then where the bra left your breasts exposed. You’d never been kissed there, and it felt foreign but nice. His sizable hands slithered underneath you, running his fingers across the band of your bra. “Color?”
You hummed, not fully confident yet to commit. “Um, yellow? You can undo it but not take it off…just yet.”
He smirked against your skin, “You got it, Baby.”
Your heart swelled at the nickname, it was the first one he’d given you romantically. You loved the sound of it coming out of his mouth.
He continued leaving kisses down your bare stomach until he finally reached your shorts. “Col-”
“Green!” You nearly spat out and covered your mouth with bright red cheeks. The wetness pooling between your legs was becoming all you could think about. Any time he’d suck and swirl his tongue on your skin all you could imagine was what it would feel like on the most intimate part of you.
He chuckled at the urgency in your response. “Okay then.”
In one swift pull of your shorts, you were left with just a thin piece of cotton protecting you from complete vulnerability.
He kneeled down between your legs. “Oh wow.” He pressed a kiss to your inner thigh, his eyes locked on your covered center like he was hypnotized. What you didn’t realize was that your white panties would show just how excited you were. Two of his fingers trailed up your inner thigh until just before your core. “Color?” He asked, his voice sounding almost drunk at the sight of you.
“Yellow.” You wanted to say green, but your nerves stopped you. “Like, green, but slow.”
He nodded, completely entranced with you as he slowly pulled your panties down, baring you completely. You felt so vulnerable and exposed that you snatched a pillow from beside you to cover your face.
You stiffened the second you felt his touch on the lip of your pussy - it was an odd feeling, being so excited yet so incredibly nervous.
He took his time exploring you gently, just to get you accustomed with his touch before actually doing anything. He was doing such a good job at making you feel comfortable that it was taking a little too long for you. You moved the pillow enough to peek down at him, “Green, green.” You informed, urgently.
He grinned, finding it endearing. And with that he let himself give into you completely. He pressed a kiss just above where you began before pressing his tongue gently into your clit. You were so worked up that that alone made your mouth make an “O” shape. “Oh my god.” You breathed out slowly. The feeling only worsened when you felt him smirk against where he just licked.
“Oh, baby that’s nothing.” He said quietly before licking at your nub again. “Fuck you’re so wet and I’ve barely touched you.”
He decided it was enough teasing and finally dove into you fully. His tongue worked diligently in slow but tight circles with an occasional vertical motion. You had long foregone the pillow by then, choosing to watch him devour you instead.
He pulled away for just one second to say, “God, you taste like fucking heaven.” before diving right back in.
You were convinced his tongue contained some sort of magic from how good it was making you feel. With each turn of his tongue, it sent waves of buzzing euphoria along with it. You never knew you could feel those sensations, nothing you’d done with anyone else ever felt that good. But Sam was attentive and really fucking talented at what he was doing.
Abruptly, you felt a tight knot forming in your stomach. “Oh, oh, I, I think, I-” You began but felt short of words, trying to hold on for dear life.
“Just let it happen, Baby, it’ll feel so good I promise.” He said quickly before returning to work you towards your peak.
Not long afterwards you followed his instructions, or rather, he forced you to when his tongue began making 8’s on your swollen bud, you were done for.
As cliche as it was, you felt like an exploding firework. Electricity sparked across your body, washing every bit of you in blinding pleasure. It stole all the air from your lungs and words from your mouth. In that moment you were useless to the world, lost in the utter bliss he’d given you.
His tapering pace brought you slowly back down to earth. You hadn’t realized that your fingers were clamped in his hair until he stopped.
He licked one last fat stripe up your entrance trying to get every last bit of you on his tongue. Your eyes were glued to the ceiling, too nervous and too shy to look down at him. Though, it seemed he wasn’t allowing that to happen. He lovingly stamped open mouth kisses up your body from your center to meet your face. As if he could sense the anxiety swirling in your body, he took your cheek in one palm while the other kept him propped up. “You were perfect.” He whispered.
You blinked up at him, wondering if that was even possible. You’d argue if your head wasn’t still fuzzy and floating in the clouds.
He chuckled fondly at your blank response, “Did that feel good, Flower?”
You just hummed and nodded against his hand. “Good…so good.” You mumbled into his palm before giving it an exhausted kiss.
He smiled that radiant smile of his and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “You tasted amazing.” He whispered against your skin. “I could eat you all day.”
You scrunched your nose up at the thought, not believing anyone would find it enjoyable to eat someone out for that long. But the thought soon shifted into experimental curiosity, surely, he couldn’t do that… could he? Could you? How would you endure that for so long… how many orgasms could you possibly have?
Even the mere idea of another orgasm like the one you just had, had your head spinning. In that moment you realized it could be dangerous, sleeping with Sam, because you’d never had a high like that – and just like a brand-new addict, you wanted more.
He moved to lay down next to you, he laid flat on his back but with his head turned to you, which you mirrored. “Was that okay? Are you okay?”
You nodded enthusiastically, “Yes. Yes.”
The edges of his mouth curled up, “Good.”
All of a sudden, you furrowed your brows at him while he tilted his head, silently questioning your confusion.
“Well, what are you doing? It’s your turn.” You stated as if was obvious.
He laughed fondly at your innocence, “It’s okay babe. I told you we could take it slow.”
“No, no.” You shook your head vehemently as you peeled yourself from the mattress to straddle him before he could stop you.
His head tilted off the bed to look at you with wide eyes. He had taken you in while you were laying down, but now you were almost fully nude sitting on him.
“I wanna learn.” You answered his wordless question simply. Your hands raked down his clothed body until they reached the button of his jeans.
He cleared his throat, shifting below you, already feeling him hardening beneath your bare cunt. “What?”
“I want to learn.” You repeated, slowly sliding the metal button through the slot before tugging down the zipper.
Your nervousness had taken a backseat, the absolute euphoria he gave you had empowered you. You wanted to return the favor, you wanted to be the one to make him feel like that too. And the pulse that returned to your pussy begged you to go all the way. You trusted him, you might even love him, what a better choice was there?
You mimicked the actions he’d done to you, leaning down and pressing light kisses to the side of his neck. Your hands took a break from his jeans to slide beneath his rusty shirt wanting to feel him as fully as he had you. “Off.” You begged below his ear.
When he nodded you sat back up to give him the space to tug the shirt off by the neck and toss it to the edge of the bed. You marveled down at his toned chest, running your fingers over the tan ridges. “You’re so handsome.” You said softly, almost ashamed at the rather proper compliment in such an improper setting.
He let out an adorable chuckle at the compliment and placed his hands on your bare hips. “And you’re so beautiful. Angelic even.” He trailed up your sides to your barely-on bra. “May I?”
You blushed and nodded, finally ready to bare yourself completely to him. You helped him peel the garment off and discarded it to the floor where the rest laid.
“God,” He breathed out as his hands tentatively found your exposed breasts. “Could you get any more perfect?” His thumbs flicked at your nipples while he began working the flesh in his palms.
The feeling of someone’s hands on you in general was foreign but you were quickly warming up to his touch. As he played with your breasts you worked diligently on tugging his jeans down enough to where you could grind against his covered cock.
He was so preoccupied with you that he didn’t realize what you were doing until you were pressing your bare pussy against his straining cock in his briefs. His jaw fell slack at the shock of it. “Oh my god.”
That’s where you learned that you loved getting that reaction from him. It only fueled you, rutting yourself back and forth on him slowly. Rather quickly you realized that you desperately needed him out of his boxers.
You dropped to hover over his face, keeping yourself up with one arm while the other lazily played with the band of his underwear. “I want to suck your dick.” You didn’t wait for a response. “Will you teach me?”
You didn’t know if his eyes could widen any further then felt his cock twitch against your pussy and it filled you with the most pride you’d ever felt in your life.
“Oh- I,” He stuttered over his words and blinked blankly up at you. “Yes. Yeah. Yes.” He nodded quickly.
“Okay.” You giggled, finding it adorable how flustered and excited he got. You were finding that sex came with a feeling of power that you quite enjoyed.
You slinked off of him and sunk down to your knees between his legs, giving you the opportunity to pull his jeans down fully before slipping two fingers on each side of his short briefs. “Color?” You asked as a cheeky joke.
“Green, definitely green.” His eyes watching your fingers intently.
And with that, you tugged the geometric patterned underwear down, finally letting his cock spring free. Your eyes took it in fully, following the length of his underside. It was larger than any other dick you’d partially hooked up with, the size both excited and scared you. With any other boy you had never felt comfortable enough to use your mouth, the thought of it with them always disgusted you - but Sam was making your mouth water.
“Teach.” You asked in an impatient but naive way.
“Lick.” He blurted out, probably wishing something more eloquent came out. “Taste.”
You followed his instruction, reaching your tongue out to meet the head of his cock. Sam pulled his lip between his teeth watching you, needing more but knowing you required time. Instinctively, you snaked your hand up to hold him at the base so you could take his tip in your mouth fully. The skin there was soft and delicate, and tasted salty of skin mixed with precum. You hummed at the flavor which sent his eyes fluttering closed. “Fuck.”
After you got a sense of him in your mouth, you took the initiative to take more of him - that got you a little groan in the back of his throat. “Fuck baby.” He adjusted beneath you slightly. “Lower.” He instructed, watching you again then went to say something but hesitated. “Use your tongue.”
You wiggled your brows as you cautiously set your tongue out against the underside of his shaft as you went lower, taking even more of him. “Oh, yeah. Just like that.” His voice dripped in needy lust, and you couldn’t get enough of it.
When he hit the back of your throat, you didn’t expect the involuntary gag that it caused. Despite what you thought was a disgusting noise, he let out a full groan at it. “We can work on your gag reflex a different time.” He breathed out. “For now, just don’t try to push it.”
You hummed an ‘okay’ with him entirely in your mouth then dipping your tongue out to lap at his base before moving back up and pulling off with a pop. You continued the motions you’d learned on him, looking up at him occasionally to watch his face contort in pleasure.
“Fuck.” He groaned with his brows furrowed up and his jaw slack at your bobbing movements. “I think I-“
You popped off of him to interrupt, “Sammy. I want you inside me.”
He shook his head, “No, baby, you don’t want that I promise, not like this.” He heaved out, his chest rising and falling rapidly, and his eyes half lidded down at you. “If I fuck you right now, I think I’d destroy you.” His fingers raked through your hair in admiration. “When we do, I want to take my time. And there’s no way I’d be able to hold myself back from you right now.”
Disappointment in your features was present, but you knew he was right. You didn’t want your first time to be rushed or hasty either. As you held his pulsing cock by the base an idea bloomed in your head like a lightbulb flickering on. “Okay…” You said slowly, “How about this.”
Sam furrowed his brows at you as you brought yourself back up on your feet. “What’re you doin?” His chest rose and fell quickly as he asked.
Your knees found each side of his hips and you carefully sunk down on his thighs behind his length. His eyes were bright and desperate like he was a kid in a candy shop wanting to taste every morsel of sugar. His focus was locked in on the proximity of your pussy to his cock and how it was taking every bit of self control to not just give in to you. Your hand gently found his cock and tenderly held it vertically against your lower tummy. The visual made you almost nervous for when you eventually do take him inside you, he was so long there was no way he’d be able to fit completely. Your thumb swiped at the precum that pooled at the tip and brought it up to your mouth.
His eyes widened as he watched you suck his residue off of your finger. Your eyes fluttered closed at the taste, letting out a small moan. You had no idea what had come over you, just that you were being commanded by throbbing that had made home in your cunt. It was like you were possessed with the utter need for him.
“You are so fucking… fuck, I don’t even know, I don’t have a strong enough word to describe how incredibly stunning you are.” He said quietly, in complete awe of you. He felt as though he truly had an angel in his lap. His cock twitched in your stationary hand as he spoke, proof that he was so turned on by your beauty alone.
Rose red tinted your cheeks at his words, making you feel bashful again momentarily. The flattery though, quickly turned into fuel. You carefully pressed his cock down flat on his own stomach. Your eyes met his as he watched you slide forward to have his cock slot between the wet lips of your cunt. He sucked in a harsh breath at the feeling of you enveloping him. “Fuck.” He breathed out.
He looked so gorgeous this way, so on edge and needy and completely infatuated with you. You couldn’t take a single second of it more. You bent down, nudging his nose before rejoining his lips. It was difficult to keep your desperation together as you kissed him, but you wanted it to start off sweet before descending into depravity. He lifted his head to be closer to you and his hands reached up and held your cheeks as he swiped at your bottom lip. He used his hold on your face to bring you down closer to him. Your tongue met his again hesitantly at first, refamiliarizing yourself with his kiss. When you began rutting your hips on him, all control left both of you. Your tongues entwined themselves feverishly while moans escaped your mouths. Grinding your cunt against him proved to be rather pleasurable for you as well as for him. Every time your sensitive clit passed the ridge of his swollen head it made you clench around nothing - all you wanted was for him to be inside you, it was all you could think about. While the action wasn’t everything you wanted, it was fulfilling your needs.
The same knot as before began to form in your tummy but it was building faster than you could keep up with. The ache in your clit chased release faster and faster with your movements against him. You grew wetter by the second which greatly aided your speed. You pulled away just a centimeter, “Sammy,” You breathed out pathetically against his lips. “I’m close, really close.”
He nodded quickly. “Me too.” Truth was that he’d been close for a while but had been holding on by a thread, wanting you to climax first.
His mutual confirmation alongside with your accelerated momentum tipped you over the edge violently. Your head fell into his neck as you fucked yourself on him, letting moans pour from your mouth and into his ear.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He groaned out as he finally let go, painting his chest with his own milky release.
The twitching and bouncing of his cock against your overly-sensitive clit threw you into an unexpected new sensation. Your stomach burned with an overpowering feeling, something between discomfort, pain and pleasure. You whimpered sharply, gripping hard at his arms, “Oh, oh!” Your nails dug into his skin as another unexpected orgasm approached, this one stronger than you’d ever experienced before. Your entire body seemed to lock up at the overpowering pleasure and then something happened that you had never encountered before - nonetheless knew you could do. You felt a bit of liquid release from you and onto him. It was a foreign but extremely pleasurable feeling combined with the extended orgasm your body was experiencing. Once you rode out your high and realized what you’d done, you stilled completely.
“Did you just-” He began but you cut him off.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry.” You nearly shrieked in embarrassment and sat up in his lap. “Oh my god, that’s never happened before, I-I didn’t know that was gonna happen. Oh my god your bed, oh I’m so sorry I-”
“Baby, baby, baby.” He placed his hands on your hips to ground you. “It’s okay.” He paused. “That’s never happened before?”
You brought your thumb up to your mouth to anxiously chew on your thumbnail and shook your head. “No, never.”
He grinned proudly, which confused you because you expected him to be upset. “Did it feel good?”
A shy smile tugged at your lips and gave him a small nod. “Very.”
“God that’s so fucking hot.”
Warmth littered your cheeks, “What? Really?” You asked naively.
“Fuck yeah. I wanna make you do that again. And again.” He squeezed your hips. “Fuck, even on my face.”
You smacked his arm gently, “Don’t be nasty!”
“Speak for yourself angel, you’re the one that just fucked yourself on my cock.”
“Ah!” Your post-orgasm clarity suddenly making you feel incredibly bashful over all of the atrocities you just committed. You covered your face, “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”
He chuckled, taking your hand from your face and bringing it up to his lips to place a chaste kiss there. “Whatever you say, Flower.”
You looked at him a little confused, remembering that he’d shortened your nickname earlier too. “Flower?”
“Well, yeah, you’re not that shy around me anymore.” He teased, but you pouted. “What’s wrong? You don’t like it?”
“No, I do. I like it.” You tugged at your lip with your teeth, feeling vulnerable. “Just don’t stop using the first one too.”
His heart couldn’t have swelled any more than it did at your request. He loved that you liked your original nickname enough to not want to let it go. “You got it, Wallflower.” He placed a couple more kisses on your hand before giving your hip a pat with his other hand. “C’mon, let’s clean up.”
Sam carefully sat up and snatched the shirt he had tossed off earlier and swiped his chest clean. He set the crumbled shirt off to the side and let his fingertips trail down your arm to tenderly reach your hand. “Shower?” He suggested softly, bringing your hand to his lips again, looking up at you with large brown lovestruck eyes through thick lashes.
You offered a tired smile and nodded, “Sounds perfect.”
He grinned, gently easing you off of his lap and leading you over to his bathroom. You were infinitely grateful for his in-dorm shower.
He did everything for you, turned the shower on, tested the water with his palm, helped you step over the ledge, he treated you so delicately, like a princess.
You reached up to the shower caddy for some body wash only for him to grasp your wrist. “Can I?”
You chuckled, turning around to face him, “Can you what? Wash me?”
His smile was hesitant and almost shy, but he nodded, “Yeah. I wanna take care of you.” He stretched his arm past you to grab his own body wash and a loofah. You raised a brow at the suspicious puff, not necessarily wanting to use his personal loofah.
“Don’t worry.” His voice was soft and low. “I got a spare, in case you wanted to shower one of the nights you escaped from your roommate.” His hand squeezed the woodsy-scented gel onto the cream-colored puff.
“Really? You did that for me?” You asked quietly while you watched him work the blue gel into the mesh. He brought the loofah to your side first, swiping it across your middle.
“Yeah, of course.” He whispered, moving the puff across your torso and intently watching the suds pour down your skin.
You nudged him, “Oh that’s why you wanna do this.” You teased, rolling your eyes.
“It’s certainly a plus.” A cocky smile tugged at the edge of his lips. “But no, we did a lot, I wanna do this, I wanna make sure you feel okay.”
You wrapped your hand around his boney wrist, “I do feel okay, Sammy.” You blinked up at him before letting your gaze fall down to the tile. “It wasn’t that much anyway. We didn’t even…”
“Hey.” He used his free hand to tilt your chin up to meet his gaze. His dark brown eyes bounced between yours trying to read them. “We can take as much time as you need. I don’t want you to feel pressured to do that. Okay?”
Your heart filled with gratitude, thankful that the boy you happened to fall for was one who was so kind and patient - in your previous experiences, boys were anything but patient and kind. Your eyes couldn’t help but water at his compassion.
“Oh,” He pulled his hands from you as if he was somehow hurting you. “Oh, did I do something wrong? We could get out, or-”
“No, no.” You sniffled, bringing a finger to wipe the tears pooling in your eyes even though you were beneath running water. “No, you’re just so…sweet to me.” You shrugged.
“You’re crying because I’m…sweet?” He asked, confused. He passed the loofah back and forth between his own hands anxiously.
You chuckled, “Yeah, just,” You sighed, letting your arms fall to your sides. “My past romantic experiences haven’t ever gone well.” You admitted with a hint of sadness in your tone. “They were always pushy and always tried to force me to do things I didn’t want to do. And you just… are so sweet, and kind, and caring, and patient with me.”
The edges of his lips downturned at your words. “I’m sorry you’ve had those experiences but,” He brought a hand to tilt your chin up to meet your eyes directly. “Me being kind to you is just the bare minimum, Y/N. It’s not worth crying over.”
You went to argue but he stopped you. “I don’t want you crying over mediocrity, you deserve the world, Wallflower. If you let me, I’ll show you more than just kindness.”
While his words meant to stop your crying, it only worsened it, so much so that you couldn’t help but throw your arms around his torso and bury your face in his chest. You weren’t sure what you wanted to say so all you could muster was, “Thank you.”
“Oh, angel.” He said softly, smoothing out the back of your wet hair. “You don’t have to thank me for anything.” His heart ached at the thought of anyone being rough with you, especially rough enough to elicit this sort of reaction over sheer kindness. He couldn’t imagine having anything other than love behind any motives when it came to you. The idea of someone trying to force you to do anything or being mean to you was so unfathomable to him. It only made him want to treat you better, to prove that you were worthy of so much more.
Your arms tightened around his middle before pulling back, feeling vulnerable. You wiped a tear away, “Maybe I’m just extra sleepy.”
“Okay baby.” He tucked a chunk of your damp hair behind your ear and placed a kiss to your head. “Let me take care of you here so we can go to bed, does that sound good?”
You nodded, surrendering to the tenderness in his touch as he took over washing you. His hands moved with such deliberate care; every gesture filled with quiet compassion. If you weren't so naive, you might’ve even recognized it as love, though the warmth spreading through you was undeniable.
He started with your arms, his fingers moving gently as he lathered the soap, the sensation of the suds against your skin both soothing and intimate. He worked slowly, his hands grazing over every inch with such gentleness that it made you feel cherished in a way you’d never known before. When he moved to your legs, his touch remained soft but steady, as though he were taking the time to make sure every part of you was tended to, like you were something precious.
Then came your hair. He carefully massaged the shampoo into your scalp, and the sensation was so blissfully relaxing you could feel any tension draining from your body with every stroke of his fingers. The rhythmic pressure of his fingertips kneading your scalp was enough to lull you into a state of near-sleep, your eyelids fluttering as you gave in to the calm.
You leaned into his touch, the sound of the water running over your skin mixing with the gentle hum of his breathing. It was as if nothing else existed in that moment—just the steady, soothing motions of his hands, the warmth of his presence, and the quiet intimacy that filled the space between you.
When he was done with you he washed himself and after a while, the warm water began to cool. The faucet squeaked as he turned the knob and when the water stopped he gently guided you out of the shower.
With a soft, sleepy sigh, you stepped out of the shower and he promptly wrapped you in a soft towel, drying you off with the same gentle care he’d shown before - slow and unhurried. You barely noticed, your limbs heavy with drowsiness, the warmth of the bath still clinging to your body. The air felt cool against your damp skin, but the comforting weight of his presence kept you from shivering.
Too drowsy to even think about getting dressed, you barely registered as he guided you toward the bed, your legs heavy with exhaustion. You let the towel fall to the floor mindlessly b-lining to the mattress.
You slipped beneath the soft covers, sinking into the comfort of the sheets against your bare skin as sleep tugged at your eyelids. The day’s fatigue along with everything that happened at the arcade and all that occurred in his room just moments ago was slowly pulling you into the quiet embrace of sleep.
You curled up, naked and content, sinking deeper into the mattress as sleep tugged at the edges of your consciousness. The bed dipped gently when he slid in beside you, and without a word, he pulled the blanket over both of you, tucking it around your shoulders. You felt his warmth immediately, his body like a shield from the cool night air, and you instinctively melted into him, seeking out his newly familiar heat.
In that sleepy haze, with the soft weight of the blankets and his arms around you, a new feeling bloomed in your chest, one you couldn’t quite name. It was a feeling you hadn’t fully recognized before, a warmth so profound it went beyond mere safety. “Safe” didn’t seem to capture it, though it came close. It felt more like being cradled in a world of your own, shielded from everything outside, like sitting in your car during a storm, listening to the rain lash against the windows while you remained dry and untouched, wrapped in your own private bubble.
The sensation was so pure and overwhelming, you silently prayed you’d never have to live without it. It was a quiet plea, the kind you whisper to yourself when you realize you’ve stumbled onto something too precious to lose.
Sure, it felt like a lot to entrust to a boy you’d only known for a month, a college kid whose life was as unsteady as yours. But you found yourself trusting him in ways you hadn’t trusted anyone before. You’d already given him pieces of yourself without hesitation—your laughter, your secrets, your body— why not your heart?
You knew it was a risk, but lying there in the quiet, with his steady breathing lulling you closer to sleep, you felt certain there was no one else you'd rather trust with it.
Sam’s arm tightened around your midsection from behind, pulling you flush against his bare body and something about it was so intimate, but not necessarily sexual. It was comfortable, vulnerable, and special.
“Goodnight, Wallflower.” He whispered thinking you were already asleep. His lips placed a soft kiss on your shoulder, and it sealed your deal with slumber.
“Goodnight, Sammy.” You smiled softly, letting sleep pull you under.
As you hovered on the edge of dreaming, a quiet certainty settled in your mind—if you were ever going to give yourself wholly to anyone, it would definitely be Sam. He made you feel things you’d never known before—things that filled you with warmth, comfort, and a sense of safety you'd never experienced with anyone else. Your heart swelled with a feeling too early to name, too early to speak, too early to be completely sure of. But it didn’t stop you from feeling it fully. Just because it was early didn’t mean it was any less real to you. And maybe, just maybe, one day you’d be brave enough to tell him. Until then, you held that feeling close, savoring the hope that this was only the beginning and that perhaps he felt the same way.
A/N; i am contemplating this being the ending of Wallflower? but i am conflicted, so please let me know if you’d like another part or two? 💓
Either way, i hope you enjoyed the journey so far, please let me know your thoughts/feelings/etc! 🩷🩷
Jake fic coming soon
Taglist; @measuredingold @sacredthefran @shutupdevvie @i-choose-the-road @musicislove3389 @persuasivus @broken0mens @peaceloveunitygvf @deathblacksmoke
#this is probably one of my favorite stories i’ve ever written <3#definitely the fluffiest story ive ever written#and the fluffiest smut#sam kiszka fanfiction#sam kiszka fanfic#concreteburialplot works#sam kiszka#sammy kiszka#sam kiszka smut#sam kiszka fluff#sam kiszka fic#sam kiszka x reader#sam kiszka gvf#sam kiszka x y/n#sam kiszka x female reader#greta van fleet fluff#greta van fleet smut#greta van fleet fanfiction#greta van fleet fic#greta van fleet fanfic#greta van fleet
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Happy birthday, @a-very-fond-farewell! I figured you would enjoy seeing Mr. Abyss in a silly apron ;)
And Ga On be like: "DON'T MIND IF I DO"
... possibly connected to Who Holds the Devil, I guess, since Yo Han is cooking? The future we're all longing for, or something. Especially Ga On since he finally gets to bury his nose against Yo Han's neck like he's always wanted. That boy.
#Kang Yo Han#Kim Ga On#Gahan#The Devil Judge#Art#Fan Art#KDrama#LOOK#Maybe I feel a little bit guilty about chapter 38#So here#Have some domestic fluff#Also#I'm still trying to figure out how to shade in a simpler way#Not sure if I can call this simple tho x'D#But it IS pretty! :D#I am also on a quest to put Yo Han in the fluffiest sweaters ever#And yes#The Mole is present#I'm pretty sure people would murder me if I forgot about it xD
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No one:
Absolutely no one:
Meiji: Why would I sit on a chair/the couch when my girlfriend's lap is literally RIGHT THERE
#the two of us#yeah my resolution of waiting for all the episodes to come out to watch all in one go lasted all of 2 days lmao#but I had a family gathering and I needed smth short-ish to watch that would give me an excuse to go into a corner and avoid everyone#and when I saw that there was literally no content on episode 4 (aka THE FLUFFIEST FLUFF THAT EVER FLUFFED)#(although the fact that they probably gave us all that because in the next episode we will Suffer was not lost on me laughcry)#I decided to go ahead and make this post that had been in my head for a while#because I absolutely love this#by far my favourite recurring thing they do nawwwwww#(let's not talk about the fact that I didn't even need to rewatch the whole thing just to search for these instances#because I knew exactly which ones they were lolllll)#anyways they have absolutely NO RIGHT to be this sickeningly adorable I'm gonna call the police#they have completely taken over my life like I used to be a normal person with a semi-decent sleep schedule and now look at me#not a single regret though#shitty screencap posts (TM)
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“Though,” he hums, “Now that we are on the subject, what did you ask for for Christmas?” It’s clear he means it to be playful—to get a cheeky remark out of her, but her heart is beating so hard she worries he can feel it. “More confidence.” He laughs, a sharp, happy sound that she has begun to yearn for. The heat of his encroaching proximity emanates off of him in waves and mixed with the smell of him, it lulls her away like a trance. Meanwhile, Marlene’s words from earlier seep through the walls like a gelatinous ooze: better get in quick— “Oh?” he tilts his head and a bit of hair falls into his glasses, “Care to share what for?” “For—“ but she cuts herself off, hands lurching off the edge of the desk and into the cords of his sweater, slanting her mouth against his.
(Read on AO3 or under cut!)
“You came.”
It’s not the voice she expects to hear but Peter Pettigrew’s, shuffled off in the corner of the curling front porch with a fag hanging from his lips.
“I was invited, wasn’t I?”
She ignores the small smile wrapping around the filter, a twinkle in his eye that all of the boys in James’ little crew have adopted like they’ve inherited it from each other.
“Don’t be like that, Evans. I’m just saying it’s nice to see you. Don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before.”
He’s right, he hasn’t because she hasn’t, and she doesn’t like the way his tone insinuates that maybe she would have a reason to give Potter house visits.
Her eyes lower into speculative slits and the hair on Peter's neck starts to bristle.
“He’s your mate, that’s all,” he stammers, “Well, thought so anyway. He told me he’s been writing to you...”
“Did he?” Her voice sounds more lethal than she had intended. With a gulp, Peter’s eyes become more watery than normal.
“I mean—yeah. I mean–that’s what mate’s do right? Write to each other? Wait, fuck—is it queer to write to my mates?”
“Very.”
She strides past, letting him parse out for himself if she was being sarcastic or not. The ornate knocker is a metal cast of a hand which, when Lily reaches out to touch it, places a static finger upwards before ringing three solid melodic raps into the cold air.
She’s never seen a home like this. She knew James came from money—before holiday, she overheard Amelia and Lilas twittering with their invitations at the lunch table about how far his family’s new money had gone, but she didn’t really know what to expect.
The door opened on its own, leading to an entrance room that looked more cozy than the imposing exterior of the manor let on. A staircase that cut through the middle of the room was flanked with exotic plants, bar carts filled with bubbling, multi-color liquids and books wedged in the spaces between. A large painting of a woman, practically nude besides a gossamer sheet, holds up a sizzling vial of green liquid and looks down at her with a wink, gesturing her eyes up the staircase where Lily can hear music wafting.
Following the woman’s gaze, she mounts the steps, stopping every so often to read out the titles of nearby books: Satanic Witchcraft: Muggle Histeria and Women’s Liberation…The Cosmic Antidote: a Potioneer’s Encyclopedia…The Final Form: A Meditation on Animagus.
“Well, can’t say I saw this one coming.”
Lily tears her eyes away from the books. At the top of the staircase, Sirius leans against the bannister, looking as carelessly handsome as ever despite wearing a rather frumpy looking Christmas jumper with a dog on it.
“Does an actual Potter live here or am I still working my way through the welcome committee?”
Sirius just smiles back, swirling the tumbler in his hand so the liquid forms a vortex at the bottom of the glass.
“Sorry to disappoint. I'm on door duty since they are all otherwise indisposed. Poor Prongs has been getting his cheeks pinched all evening—and I don’t necessarily mean his face.”
It makes Lily crack a smile, the image of James trying and failing to use his lithe quidditch reflexes to ward off straying hands of old biddies.
“I gotta be honest with you Evans, when I saw Mary show up without you we figured you weren’t coming.”
Thank God, Mary’s here. Just the thought of an ally in this otherwise alien environment makes Lily’s shoulders drop.
“Well sorry to disappoint—-though I haven’t quite made it to the party yet so there’s still time for me to leave…”
Sirius throws his head back in a laugh, his earring tinkling against itself.
“No way, Evans. Now that you’re here the night might actually be interesting.”
* * * * *
The sitting room (if you can call it that) is packed with people. Lily recognizes some as students from school, clumping themselves in groups around the outskirts of the space while others who are much older command the room as though their own, floating from person to person under an enchanted ceiling that rains down fluffy tufts of snow and disappears before it can melt.
It’s overwhelming and yet It doesn’t take much to find him–these days her eyes like magnets towards the unruly head of black hair and perpetually easygoing gaze. James stands at the center of the fray, looking disdainful as an older witch with smoky eyes shoves her hands through his hair, trying to tame the tangle and laughing to another woman when her attempt only makes the dishevelment worse. When his eyes flick over to where her and Sirius stand, she watches them grow in real time.
It’s all for show, you know. He had written in his last letter. I could be the Minister of Magic and I’d still act like a bloody child sometimes.
Cheeks turning ruddy, he raises his hand from his side and gives a small wave from the middle of his chest, mouthing a timid hi . At the time she hadn’t understood what he had meant in his letter, but watching him stand there uncharacteristically awkward while his mother doted on him it all started to make sense.
It did something awful to her heart rate.
She mouths it back, mirroring his tiny wave in an attempt to seem playful and a grin breaks out on his face as vibrant as the crackling fireplace behind him.
“ Soo..” Sirius sings beside her and she realizes she's been holding eye contact with James and smiling for god knows how long while the world turned without them.
“A drink? Or do you prefer snogging blokes in front of their parents cold turkey?”
“Fuck off, Black,” she scoffs, unable to hide a flush on her cheeks from being caught.
It shouldn’t affect her as much as it does, really. They are friends— a fact that James has had no problem repeating to anyone who will listen—-and it has been nice really: studying together deep in the stacks, getting distracted by the contagion of his laugh when she reaches across his space to write cheeky comments on the margins of his homework. And (as much as she would deny it) his letters over the holiday have been a saving grace: his loping elegant script making her heart swoop the second the owl lands on her window-sill holding pages of doodles and rambling banter to make up for the silence that comes with his absence.
But those were normal feelings to have towards friends, right?
“Wait—fuck someone’s at the door,” Sirius says, expression alert though Lily hadn’t heard anything. “Drinks are over there,” he gestures to a far corner where many people are congregating.“Mary’s over there,” pointing to a group of girls talking near a wide christmas tree, “And, well, I think you already know where James is.”
He flashes her a sly smile which she ignores and disappears back the way they came, leaving her to fend for herself.
She wades through the clusters of people, finding a large elaborate bar in which the drinks make themselves as guests call out their order. She asks for a gin and tonic then wanders towards the group of girls, happy to find some semblance of familiarity. Mary, Emmeline, Marlene, and Sofia form a semi-circle, looking into the vast crowd while taking turns to lean in and giggle out observations. As Lily walks up, Mary pulls her into a one armed hug, clinking their glasses with a wink.
“Everyone said you weren’t gonna show,” Mary says, giving her a smug smile. “Curiosity got the best of you like the rest of us then?”
“Yeah, something like that—“ Lily mutters, taking a long sip of her drink. Across the room, James continues to be heralded from stately couple to stately couple, eyes darting around for some sort of saviour that never seems to come.
“Could really get used to this,” Emmeline pipes up with a giggle, “fit and filthy rich? If only Potter would catch my drift once in a while, I could be the next lady of the house.”
A sharp stab hits Lily right in the stomach and she holds back the urge to spit out a less than savory comment about Emmeline’s lack of class.
“You could always go for Black—he’s available,” teases Marlene.“ Besides, we all know Potter’s been making shag eyes at Sofia for the better half of the term.”
Lily can’t help but rear her head back in incredulity. In all four classes she shares with James and Sofia she has never once noticed him making anything remotely resembling ‘shag eyes’ in her direction, but by the way Sofia gives a cheeky shrug and purses her lips perhaps she had missed something vital.
“We’ve been talking,” Sofia says simply, giving a sly look.
Talking? Talking like writing over holiday? Lily feels heat rise to her forehead, becoming a bit woozy. It wouldn’t be insane if James was writing to other girls besides her—-they were friends after all, but something inside her ached. She had wanted, had hoped that maybe his letters to her were special. Special in what way? He probably equates your letters to the likes of Peter or Remus at this point…
“Well,” Marlene clicks her tongue, raising her eyebrow suggestively, “Better get in quick—ever since Brown confirmed he has more talent with his tongue then just talking, there’s been a decent queue of girls waiting to—-“
“Anyone know where the loo is?” Lily cut in. Her stomach had started to turn, the slow burn in her chest only getting worse the longer she stood there.
Without guidance, she wanders away, heading towards a lit hallway that looks promising off the side of the room. On her way, she sees no sign of Sirius or Peter, only giving one last glance to James who is still busy entertaining his parents’ guests before slipping out of sight.
She would have thought she had gone the wrong way if not for the fact that the hall was brightly decorated with charmed icicles that glowed a soft blue and grew longer along the wall. Chandeliers like golden arms hold out candlesticks, leading her down past what felt like too many doors for a family of three to own on just a single floor.
Timid, she jiggles the handles, peeking into unlocked rooms in hopes to find the bathroom. Nearing the end of the hall, she gives an ajar door a hopeful push. Inside is a lush bedroom with a large mahogany bed adorned with red and gold quilts. Muggle rock bands with static stares are flanked by zooming quidditch players who seem to be playing a match just amongst the collection of posters tacked together.
Looking behind to see if anyone is coming, she steps in, edging towards a large postal desk that looks like it should have been in some museum rather than a teenager's bedroom. Along the surface, books are splayed open, James’ unmistakably curled handwriting cramping the margins of some while others have bits of parchment sticking out as place holders. A quill sits on top of an opened parchment at the corner of the desk, a letter abandoned in mid script:
Dear Lily,
I know I already wrote today, but, thick as I am, I forgot to ask (please don’t take the piss out of me for overworking the owls—mum overfeeds them so they need the exercise anyways).
I know I made a laugh of it when I gave you your invitation, but I really hope you come to the party. Knowing my parents, I’ll be swamped with old bats wanting to chide me on my ‘waste of a potions legacy’’ (their words) but you’re presence would make it all the more—-
“I think you might be a little lost, Miss Evans.”
Lily spins around, hitting her hip against the desk. James leans against the doorway, looking like he has been there for a while, a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.
“Sorry—just looking for the loo.” She can feel a flush crawling down her neck.
“Ah,” James steps in with his hands in his pockets, obviously amused. “And you found a room that looked remotely like mine and figured it was as good a toilet as any?”
Lily stammers, trying to come up with a response, but James cuts her off with a laugh, walking into the room.
“I’m just taking the piss, Evans. You enjoying the party? Haven’t been able to pull myself away from my mum’s friends the whole night—-Sirius and Peter are probably furious...”
His eyes drop to the desk. Seeing his note left open, he quickly rips it away, balling it up with a red tinge forming under his glasses.
“Uh, just got here actually,” Lily murmurs, not sure if she should admit to snooping around his room. “You have a—beautiful home.”
James snorts, leaning against the side of the desk. “A bit much I think.”
He runs a hand through his hair and Lily notices that he has a matching jumper to Sirius, though his has a reindeer on it with a pair of glasses that match his own.
“Nice jumper—you and Sirius knit them together?”
James looks down like he’s just noticing it, pulling at the ends so the reindeer’s face gets contorted with a stretch.
“Yeah well– I got him a flying motorbike and he repays me with this ugly thing, the sod.”
She can’t help but laugh, but not at the reason he expects. A flying motorbike—-he got his mate a flying motorbike. Lily could count on her hand the things she had received in her life that were as meaningful and complicated and perfect as what James had gotten for his friend. A whoosh of air soared through her chest, unraveling any of the painful knots that had formed from her chat with the girls.
“Well, if it’s any consolation, I’m afraid I didn’t get you anything,” Lily says, somewhat sheepish. She had spent a good evening debating whether they were close enough to warrant gifts, but in the end was too cowardly.
“No worries, Evans,” he turns to her, a slight blush forming. “Let's be honest, I wouldn’t have deserved it anyway.”
She can feel static in the air. Downstairs, the music changes: a slow ballad that probably has couples grabbing each other's hands and swaying close. She wonders if Sofia is looking for James, hoping to finally get her shot.
He leans in and she can smell the faint scent of spice mixed with earth–a scent she has come to know too well from their times spent shoulder to shoulder in the library.
“Though,” he hums, “now that we are on the subject, what did you ask for for Christmas?” It’s clear he means it to be playful—to get a cheeky remark out of her, but her heart is beating so hard she worries he can feel it.
“Father Christmas isn’t real, did no one tell you.”
“C’mon Evans. Play along.” His eyes glint with mirth, the gold coming out in the flicker of the dim candlelight.
“More confidence.”
He laughs, a sharp happy sound that she has begun to yearn for. The heat of his encroaching proximity emanates off of him in waves, and mixed with the smell of him, it lulls her away like a trance. Meanwhile, Marlene’s words from earlier seep through the walls like a gelatinous ooze: better get in quick—
“Oh?” he tilts his head and a bit of hair falls into his glasses, “Care to share what for?”
“For—“ but she cuts herself off, hands lurching off the edge of the desk and into the cords of his sweater, slanting her mouth against his.
The kiss was so fleeting, it could have been a hallucination if not for the lingering softness of his lips and the instant flesh memory of his breath against her cheek. When she pulls away, his eyes look clouded and dark, a small oh escaping his lips.
JAMES!
The sound of beating footsteps echo down the hall and the door slams wide open. A huffing Peter keels over still holding the knob.
“Your parents need you. They are— oh fuck,” he stops mid sentence, finally clocking how close Lily and James are to one another.
“Ah, fuck mate—uhm…your mum and dad are trying to do a speech or something…and Sirius is out smoking. Uh, Merlin, wow, this is awkward.”
If it weren’t for the fact that he had just stormed in on perhaps the most embarrassing moment of her life, Lily would have found Peter’s floundering funny, but James hadn’t even turned to his mate, eyes roaming around her face like two flying pixies.
“A minute, Pete,” James calls, still with his back to him.
Peter shifts his weight, looking more anxious by the second.
“Uh, your mum said now—”
“A minute, bloody hell.”
All the stabbing pain from earlier flies back into Lily’s chest. Instead of grabbing hold of her, pulling her close and maybe even ( merlin can you imagine) kissing her again, James continues to stand stock still, his features completely unreadable besides a confused, searching look in his eye.
“I have to go, but don’t leave before we can talk again,” he says in a stern voice. For some reason it reminds her of being chastised like a child.
“Please Lily. I’ll be back. Just… enjoy the party and I’ll come find you.”
He turns on his heel, walking out the door without a second glance and leaves Lily to fall back against the desk. Her lips still vibrate with the warmth of his own.
#james potter#lily evans#jily#jily fanfiction#marauders era#shameless fluff#christmas fic#maybe the fluffiest thing I've put to paper yet? Dunno--you'll have to tell me after Part 2#my writing#6th year mutual pining forever and ever#will James and Sirius have a moment to croon a holiday song? yes probably
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You Win This Round [WolfWren Modern AU/one-shot/T]
For @wolfwrenweek, Day Four (Prompt: “You Came?” “You Called.”)
A sequel one-shot for my soccer AU fic The Game (She’s in My Head Already). While Sabine is moving forward and winning games with her new team, Shin is stuck still, recovering from her injury. {...almost fluff-without-plot.}
Read on Ao3
#starts dark and ends with the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff#wolfwren#shin hati#sabine wren#wolfwrenweek#wolfwren fanfic#my fic#my art#art is a WIP done ages ago which seemed somewhat fitting for the real OTP of this ficlet: Shin x Blankets
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Chapters: 1/1 Fandom: Danny Phantom, Batman - All Media Types Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Danny Fenton & Jason Todd Characters: Danny Fenton, Jason Todd Additional Tags: Adopted Danny Fenton, Kid Danny Fenton, Jason Todd-centric, Dad! Jason Todd, Fluff, Domestic Fluff, Baking, cooking together, Roses, Rose Milk Cake, Fentonic 2024 (Danny Phantom), One Shot Series: Part 7 of Cat Soulmates Fentonic 2024 Spoilers Summary:
Fluffy baking one-shot featuring dad!Jason and baby!Danny
Cooking Together | Roses
Day 7! @catnek-writing-things and I both panic wrote this, but it's fine. Everything is fine.
Anywho, enjoy the fluff while it lasts, because most of Fentonic is pretty much angst >:3
#fentonic2024#cooking together#roses#dpxdc#jason todd#danny fenton#de aged danny#dad hood#dad jason todd#seriously he is such a dad#fluff#we used an actual recipe for this btw#i really want to try making it#it looks really good#this is the fluffiest thing i have ever written#theyre so cute
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Domestic Bliss by DancingInTheSliverGlow
T | 900 words | Complete
Hades/Percy Jackson/Persephone, Percy & Hermes, minor Percy & Poseidon
Romantic Fluff, Adult Percy Jackson, Family
Hadercy Fest Day 6: Hades and/or Persephone read TLT written by adult Percy and find out that Percy thinks Hades is attractive. @hadesxpercy-events
Polympians: family focus @polympians-event
“Hey Persephone, Hades, look what I found.” Hermes says. “Remember way back when Percy was writing down his quests and he asked me to beta-read them?” “Tell me.” Persephone says, sitting up and leaning towards Hermes with a glint of mischievousness. Not for the first time, Hades spots the half-sibling familiarity between them. Hades hopes another around of Hermes-Percy prank wars isn't about to start. The parthenon barely survived the first. “Percy’s initial description of Hades-” “Shut up-” Percy lunges off the sofa towards Hermes. Within a blink of the eye, the god of speed places the love seat between them. Demeter and Poseidon momentarily stop their bickering to look at the second generation gods. “-was rather spicy.” Hermes finishes, grinning as he dodges Percy’s increasingly motivated attempts to grab the book. “Would you like me to read it?”
#percy jackson#pjo#fanfic#percy#hermes#hades#persephone#hadercy#hadercy event 2024#hadercy week 2024#polympians#poseidon#demeter#fluff#borederline crack#the fluffiest fluff to have ever fluffed - according to my caffienated and sleep deprived brain
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Do not become my shipping partner, I will send literal murder attempts of cute-feels-y stuff in your inbox unprompted and then run away like it's a bomb ready to defuse, no longer my responsability once I put it in your hands.
#from another realm ━ (ooc)#its either lore-developing stuff#the fluffiest fluff to have ever fluffed#the silliest stuff known to mankind#sometimes angst but you gotta pray that the planets align in the right order
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im such a romantic which is crazy because im not a romantic
#im literally aroace and im like sighh.....ErrorInk but its the fluffiest most tooth rotting fluff you've ever seen......#and like i HC them both as on the aroace spectrum too so like???? haha what
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It's funny how omegaverse started as this fringe weird as fuck thing some people did in fanfics, but the joke's on me because not only does its basic form completely appeal to my erotic tastes, actually, but it has truly become a very fascinating genre to me.
I'm sure someone in an American university doing gender studies is writing their thesis on this somewhere. Because it is such an interesting playfield for commentary, caricature and subversion on gender roles and on the position of potential child-bearing individuals in society, and how could this be structured if it were made 10 times more obvious, or how would we cope with it in a supposedly egalitarian society, and how can we make this man experience mysogyny, etc. And it reflects beautifully all of the fears, anxieties, and fantasies people with the potential to bear children, or perceived as such, can have. And the revolt, utopias, or reclamation that they want to express about it.
There is nothing inherently bad or even inherently anything about it as a whole, because people have created such unique things within the framing of this genre, and I find it incredibly entertaining and intellectually stimulating.
#A/B/O#omegaverse#there's an ABO Stucky fic I read many years ago and lost#which I can't get out of my head#and it was the cutest fluffiest most heart-warming thing ever#and I'm not huge on fluff#but gosh was it good#it was pure indulgence to the max full comfort blankets and hot chocolate fic ever and it ruled#can't even remember if there was on-screen sex in the end#anyway#people voting omegaverse on that poll have no curiosity and no knowledge they are like little babies#/lh#unrelated but my neighbours down on the streets are SCREAMING for the sake of screaming again and it's been 2h and I want to kill them
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The Care and Keeping of Husbands
Forgotten Realms | M | Ashenivir/Rizeth | 1068 Words
Tags: Married!Boys, Dom/sub, implied full-time D/s dynamic, Fluff, Aftercare, Bathing, the intimacy of hair braiding
Summary:
Just a fluffy little aftercare scene with the boys. Written for one of @absurdthirst's kinktober prompts, ‘aftercare’
[ID - a decorative divider]
Once, his bathing room had been a place of pure function. Now, it was an extension of bedroom and playroom both, as alive with Ashenivir’s influence as the rest of the house. His presence manifested in the cabinet in jars of soaps and oils; on the shelves in piles of more towels than could ever be necessary for even a drow lifespan; and across the floor, where new tiles in colours Rizeth wouldn’t even have considered a decade ago gleamed, damp with steam.
The bath, however, was the same as it had always been, and was presently filled with both himself and a very bruised, very satisfied Ra’soltha.
Rizeth ran the washcloth down Ashenivir’s arm, careful over his wrist, where manacles had held him chained to the ceiling not an hour ago.
“How is your throat?” he murmured, brushing his lips over it, right below Ashenivir’s ear.
Ashenivir shivered, leaning into his chest. “Perfectly capable of screaming for you again tomorrow, Master.”
Rizeth chuckled and moved to his other arm. Most of the bruises were on his back and thighs, which Rizeth had taken care of before they’d left the playroom, leaving the marks just unhealed enough for them both to enjoy. Ashenivir remained as lovely a canvas as ever, and Rizeth never tired of admiring him.
Keep Reading: AO3 / Neocities / Dreamwidth
[ID - a decorative divider]
that's the last of my kinktober fics finally done! and my last fic of the year, so thank you everyone who's read my many thousands of words of Boy Content this year, i appreciate every single one of you <3
Obedience taglist: @foxboyclit @belovedviolence @thegreatobsesso @notwritinganyflufftoday (ask to be +/-)
#writeblr#fanfiction#fic#oc fic#drow oc#my writing#oc fanfiction#aftercare#kinktober#kinktober 2024#obedience fic blogging#c: ashenivir zauvym#c: rizeth velkon'yss#the fluffiest fluff to ever fluff <3#i love these boys too much it explodes my heart
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Hello my Happy Holiday Heathens! I have seen the poll results and here I am with your present (to be honest, I'd already started working on this yesterday). For those who voted for the next chapter of Blood Prince, never fear! It's on its way and already partially written as well. "Alastor, like many of the Sinners who occupied the Pride Ring, didn’t tend to think much about Sinsmas.
It was a Hellborn holiday, after all, and one meant to celebrate the ring in which one was born. Being as Sinners were not, in fact, born in Hell and could only ever occupy a single ring, the holiday didn’t hold much sway for them outside of the few who learned they could use it to their advantage. Well, perhaps there were others who used it as a release from the day-to-day horror of living in eternal punishment…a little treat, if you will.
The Radio Demon was not one of those Sinners."
#hazbin hotel#hazbin hotel fanfiction#radioapple#radioapple fanfic#radioapple fluff#this is the fluffiest thing I will EVER write so don't you little shits expect this level of nice ever again#sinsmas
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(Y'all remember when I said I'd have second parts out to stories... yeah, then this happened.)
(I typed this in a hurry to get something out, so it's relatively unedited. I skimmed it once, so I may have missed something.)
Boredom
TW: suggestive @ the end
"I'm booooooored." Villain flopped over the side of the sofa in the shared apartment. "Come sit with me?"
From the desk, Hero snorted. "You're such a crybaby." They teased their partner. "Come on, can you wait? I'm working."
Villain pouted. "No." They walked over to see what their partner was working on. "What'chya doin'?"
"You're not the only villain out there, you know." Hero said. "I have to find counter strategies for every possible plan that Supervillain or the others could come up with. Superhero wants them by the end of the day."
Villain sighed. "Fine, I'll go." They walked away, leaving hero to their work.
~
A few hours later, Hero gets a call from the Hero Agency. More specifically, Superhero.
"Come and get your partner." Superhero snapped before Hero could say anything. "They're glaring a hole through me because I gave you work on your day off."
Well, shit. "I'm on my way." Hero grabbed their go-bag, and threw their uniform on over their clothes. "Sorry about this."
"No, I'm sorry." Superhero said as Hero got on his motorcycle drove out for the Agency. "I never should have given you work on your day off. I'll never do it again."
Hero sighed. "Villains holding a knife to your throat, aren't they?"
"Is it that obvious?" Superhero tried to joke as Hero pulled up to the tall building the agency was in.
"I know Villain." Hero answered. "So yeah, it is."
Hero made their way to Superhero's office, thinking every curse word in the book. When they got there, they saw Superhero sitting in their chair, with Villain standing behind them in their villain getup, pressing a knife to their throat.
"Hey, baby!" Villain said cheerily, as if they were just happy to see them come home.
Hero sighed. "Sweetheart, baby, love of my life, I love you with every fibre of my being. Please let my boss go."
Villain pouted, but removed the knife from Superhero's neck. "Come on, baby." They muttered. "You have to see where I'm coming from here. You were ignoring me."
"As if I'm not allowed to work from home." Hero grumbled, but they were smiling.
"Nope!" Villain danced over to their partner, throwing their arms around them and mashing their bodies together. "When you're at home, you're mine!"
Hero winked. "Than why don't we go home and you can make me yours all over again?"
Villain smirked. "Yes, lets."
#hero x villain community#hero x villain#hero#villain#possesive villain#fluff#The Fluffiest Fluff#This is literally the fluffiest shit I've ever written#Superhero#writing#creative writing
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Awning Realisation
(Good Omens Crowley/Aziraphale kissing and romance fic)
Rating: T
Summary: Aziraphale and Crowley get caught in a rainstorm on their way home from lunch. This is exactly what you think. I do not apologize for the fic, but I am very sorry about the title.
Rationale: Aziraphale and Crowley will come out of Season 3 talking to each other properly, and acknowledging, out loud, that they love each other, and actually planning for a future together. I’m writing kisses in this delicious, easy setting while I figure out if/how to write proper fix it fic. You can read this on its own, or after their second kiss in ‘The first one that’s right’ and their third kiss in ‘The second one that’s quite rubbish’. This is not the next kiss, this is a couple dozen kisses into their kissing escapades, and it is a good one.
Count: 2200ish
They’re leaving the park and beginning the short walk home when the first few fat drops of rain land. Wet, heavy splotches across their shoulders and into their hair accompanied by a dramatic flash of lightning. Aziraphale and Crowley do not ordinarily get caught out in the rain; it’s easy and convenient to miracle up an umbrella or simply to choose that their corporations not get wet.
Today, sated from a long lunch and deeply in love with each other, the idea of linking arms and walking home under a big black brolly tickles Crowley’s fancy and he raises his hand to bring one into existence. But Aziraphale is fast and grabs his fingers before he can cast. “Wait a moment!”
The rain is starting to fall harder, sheets of it falling across the grass around them, soaking quickly through Crowley’s blazer and starting to seep into the wool of his turtleneck. Standing there, seemingly impervious to it, Aziraphale’s grin only widens, his eyes twinkling; he’s clearly bursting to tell Crowley the secret and so Crowley waits, dutifully.
The cold makes Crowley’s body shiver involuntarily, prompting him to ask, “Aziraphale?” his voice raised but only to be heard over the wind starting to whip up around them, pushing the rain against them from all sides. “What on Earth are we waiting for?”
A new thought occurs to Aziraphale, Crowley notes the change in countenance. Aziraphale angles his chin up and off to the side, “Wait, was this you?”
Lost as to what Aziraphale means and increasingly exasperated, Crowley responds, “What? Was what me?” Aziraphale just continues to regard him with a degree of suspicion. By now, the cold water has already saturated Crowley’s hair right down to his scalp, it’s running in a constant drip down the back of his neck, trickling down his spine to the small of his back and wetting the wool from the inside out. Somehow, it’s making his wings itch; he does not like the cold and he could storm off and miracle himself back to dry and warm but Aziraphale’s still grasping his hand.
Suspicion gives way to a tight little secretive smile. “Just wait,” Aziraphale says, squeezing Crowley’s hand. Aziraphale gives a joyous little jolt of surprise at another flash of lightning and almost immediate thunder, letting out a giggle that sounds nervous.
Bemused but distracted by Aziraphale’s obvious delight in a rainstorm of all things, Crowley watches as he turns his head up to the rain, eyes closed against the whip of the wet and the wind. It’s a picture, he admits, worth the chill: everything about Aziraphale in this moment is radiant and contrasted up against all the greys of the London sky.
Eventually, though, as gorgeous as the angel looks, Crowley’s about to demand an explanation, or at the very least shake his hair out, when suddenly Aziraphale brings his chin back down and opens his eyes. He grins, mischievous and his eyebrows waggle just a little. His voice slips too easily into the overly dramatic play-acting tone you’d expect to hear in some classic farce. “Quick! Quick, Crowley, over there! There’s an awning!”
But before Crowley can react to this revelation – and even he isn’t clueless enough to not realize immediately the game Aziraphale is playing – his hand is being squeezed again and Aziraphale is pulling him along. In moments, he’s been led across the road, weaving between the crawling traffic and the scurrying humans, along the footpath, past shops packed with people escaping the deluge, to come to a stop under the deep blue canopy of some quaint little bakery.
They stand close in front of the shop window, catching their breath as the sound of the rain on the bricks and the fabric of their shelter becomes even louder. There are streams of water coming down off the awning in the corners and splashing from the ground so that it’s only the square foot they’re occupying that’s truly staying dry. And warm golden light pouring through the shop window, pastries and breads piled high on display, the scents of jam and yeast mingling with the petrichor and the car fumes.
They’re sopping wet, drenched to the skin, and being sheltered under an awning at this point is actually kind of pointless. But Crowley can’t help but grin like an absolute idiot, wondering at the inner machinations of Aziraphale’s mind and waiting to discover exactly how he will play this out.
Aziraphale drops his hand and scrubs the water back off his face. “My goodness, what an unexpected and tempestuous storm!” he narrates, gleefully. “You’re soaking wet!” As though he hadn’t just been the one to make them stand in the rain for a solid minute and a half.
“Yes, quite,” Crowley plays along, failing to stifle his grin and get into some sort of character. They’re in public but no one’s paying them attention so he slips off his sunglasses and lets his eyes sparkle for Aziraphale to see. “There comes a point where you’re so wet you just can’t get any wetter.” He shakes his arms and shoulders sending water droplets flying, and then rakes both hands through his hair, pushing it back and away from where it’s started to fall in wet clumps across his forehead.
Aziraphale’s biting his bottom lip in an effort to hold some of his excitement at bay, and then he steps in, close and not quite warm, just wetter still where their clothes make contact and press into their skin; toe to toe, hip to hip and chest to chest. He loops his arms around Crowley’s waist and captures him there against him, holding his gaze steady and playful with their faces only a few inches apart.
“Oh Crowley,” he sighs, very much overly dramatically.
“Aziraphale,” Crowley encourages, tone tinged with mockery but overflowing with affection.
They continue to stare into each other’s eyes until there’s another rumble of thunder. Aziraphale yells to speak over it as it dissipates: “You know, until this moment, I never really knew myself.”
Crowley chuckles, hands at Aziraphale’s hips, just gently rubbing little circles with his thumbs and willing Aziraphale to kiss him now. “A lovely sentiment, thank you.”
“Yes, and you should know,” Aziraphale continues boisterously. “That my feelings will not be repressed! You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”
“Ah,” Still grinning and shuffling to try to get that little bit closer, Crowley recognises that. “Our friend, Jane.”
Aziraphale looks pleased with the both of them. “You’ve been reading!”
“Watched the movie,” Crowley explains, giving Aziraphale’s hips another squeeze. “And it’s only fair, Aziraphale,” Crowley’s confession catches in his throat: this is silly and wonderful, but vulnerable, too. They’re not like this often, even now, they struggle with it, because it’s so vulnerable and they could never ever have been vulnerable before, not with all that danger and risk. But they can now, and deep down, Crowley wants to be.
So, he swallows and focuses on Aziraphale’s grinning, expectant, wet face. “You are every reason, every hope, and every dream I’ve ever had.”
In the end, he tries to play it off as silly, failing, thankfully, because his cheeks are burning hot enough to start to evaporate the water, and his eyes are imploringly honest because actually, he means every damn word. He holds Aziraphale’s gaze.
“Oh, Crowley,” Aziraphale breathes out and looks suddenly on the brink of blissfully happy tears.
“It’s from The Notebook,” Crowley mumbles.
“Don’t care,” and then Aziraphale’s lips are pressed up against his, sweet and slick with the rain, hot with passion and still curved up into a smile.
Crowley falls into Aziraphale like he’s starting to do every time they kiss, collapsing into his embrace and crumbling to have found his refuge. His arms snake around Aziraphale’s back, crushing them even closer together as Aziraphale kisses at his lips and cradles his cheeks in his hands.
Everything is deeper and somehow more with the wet heaviness of their bodies and their clothes, with the rolls of thunder overhead, and the warm golden light from the bakery cut through by blasts of white lightning. The rain draws out the essence of them, the familiar rosewater and sandalwood Aziraphale always wears almost overwhelmed by the earthier base notes of his skin and his hair and his mouth, right there under Crowley’s hands and lips.
Aziraphale’s mouth shifts, peppering kisses across his lips and his cheeks, and then back to focus on the pout of Crowley’s bottom lip to slip and tug at it in a manner that’s becoming familiar and expected. Aziraphale sucks against it, gentle and slow, as his hands slip back into Crowley’s hair, fingers splayed and sliding seamlessly into strands made slippery with rain. His hands fist, grasping hold in a way that wrings water from Crowley’s hair in wet dribbles and makes Crowley’s eyes flutter open for a moment, his lips parted around a quiet, unexpected gasp. Aziraphale’s tongue flicks up against his open lips, against Crowley’s teeth and behind and this time it’s crepes and sweet cream and sticky raspberry jam that Aziraphale tastes of.
Crowley can’t help but groan at it, quiet and private, just between them, but undeniably letting Aziraphale know that he’s coming apart. Crowley kisses him back, hard and letting go of some of his control, licking into Aziraphale’s open mouth, meeting his tongue and shocked to find himself starving for the taste there. Crepes, cream, raspberries, Aziraphale, licking it from his lips and his tongue, swallowing it down like it’s the very best wine.
Crowley wonders if Aziraphale knows that that’s what this kiss tastes like, wonders if he can sense – whether he can match – the desperation. It’s not just tender and loving – they’ve gotten good at that – this is hungry and delicious and perhaps too much for standing on a footpath. Yes, definitely too much. Crowley needs to slow them down and does, arms uncoiling from around Aziraphale’s waist, hands going back to his hips to squeeze and dig into the soft flesh just a little too tightly. Crowley pulls back and Aziraphale releases his hold of Crowley’s hair, hands shifting back to his cheeks. Crowley does his best, resisting Aziraphale’s gravitational pull until their faces are far enough apart that they can look at each other.
White hair curled messily from the rain, clothes hanging heavy off his shoulders and his bowtie askew and coming undone, Aziraphale looks out of breath and a little dazed, his lips kissed pink and wetter than the rest of him, cheeks a ruddy red, and his eye shining. He pouts and goes to say something, but Crowley falls back in for one last taste, lips meeting quickly, roughly, and Crowley licks at Aziraphale’s lips until he lets him in to feel the vibration of a moan and taste the sweetness and the lingering rain on his tongue. Crowley’s fingers dig into Aziraphale’s hips and then they really do pull apart.
Aziraphale takes a very deliberate, loud deep breath, in through his nose and then shakily out through his parted lips. He casts his gaze around, settling appreciatively for a moment on the bakery display; Crowley’s stuck still staring at his mouth. “Well then…” Aziraphale says and trails off as he turns back to look at Crowley with an encouraging, somewhat flustered smile.
Crowley commits to nothing and gives an audible but unintelligible murmur in response.
“I stand corrected,” Aziraphale offers after a couple of moments.
Crowley isn’t sure what he means but has noticed that he’s starting to feel cold and wet and not fantastic again. He arches an eyebrow in question, “Oh?”
Aziraphale’s gaze dips to the pavement and then back up to meet Crowley’s. “Well, you know… Vavoom.”
“Vavoom?” Crowley turns the word – his word – over in his mouth and understands exactly what Aziraphale is getting at. “Yes, vavoom indeed.” He presses his lips together to stop from smiling too broadly.
“Honestly,” Aziraphale continues, tone turning conversational. “I don’t know how Maggie and Nina didn’t fall in love immediately, even with all the extra water. It’s a wonder they even noticed they were getting wet.”
“Humans…” Crowley offers by way of explanation with a shrug. “Although admittedly, I am starting to understand some of their proclivities.” He slips his sunglasses back into place and looks out into the still-falling rain. “Are you ready to dry out?”
“Yes, certainly,” Aziraphale says. “That was, as always, very lovely, but I’m not sure it couldn’t be improved by the water being nice and warm.”
“Agreed.” Crowley wriggles his fingers in Aziraphale’s general direction, dispelling the water from their skin and their clothes in a million tiny droplets thrown off in every direction all at once. Just for good measure, he gives Aziraphale’s ensemble the added warmth and softness of a recent tumble dry without any of the potential fabric damage.
This is clearly to the angel’s liking, as Aziraphale beams at him in thanks before offering Crowley his arm and pulling a large black umbrella from nowhere. “Time to go back to the bookshop, my dear,” he says.
Crowley loops his arm through Aziraphale’s, joining him under the umbrella, and together they step out from under the awning to continue making their way home.
A/N: It is what it is, folks. Whatever head-shaking, cheek-aching grinning, eye-rolling, or snickering you have done, I, too, have felt it. When they work themselves out and get to this very pleasant place where it’s working through their trauma and their weirdness together, it is going to be ridiculously glorious. I have a few more of these planned and they’re all getting posted on AO3 now!
A/N 2: Should also say, that yes, there are five or six direct quotes, or close approximations through this from Four Weddings and a Funeral, Pride and Prejudice, and The Notebook. Because without the quotes it would only have been very fluffy and I wanted it ridiculously fluffy.
#good omens 2 fanfic#good omens 2 fic#ineffible husbands#ineffible idiots#the fluffiest fucking fluff that ever fluff#and then they got a little bit sexy which wasn't planned#but i guess that's what happens with a sudden rainstorm#vavoom etc#doonas fic
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