#reader was abt to go all good luck babe by chappel roan on her ass

[crushribbons]

𝕙𝕠𝕟𝕖𝕪𝕤𝕦𝕔𝕜𝕝𝕖

summary: Poppy Sweeting is a little naïve in all the right ways.

cw: 4.2k words, fluff, friends to lovers (i have a problem), smut (18+ ONLY), f/f sex, oral sex, i used a second-person POV bc there would be a lot of shes and hers getting mixed up LOL, fem reader

a/n: i may have a thing for girls who ramble and care about stuff :') also i know panties weren't invented yet shut up she's sexy! happy pride month xx laney

The early September sunshine was warm on your neck as you raced down the Hogwarts lawn to the lake. Steep downward steps carried your legs faster than your body, and you fell flat on your face when your shoe caught on a loose stone hidden on the bottom step. “Ack!” Your arms flailed wildly, attempting to break the fall. Your face got there first.

“Are you alright?” squealed the girl you were in such a hurry to meet. Poppy Sweeting hopped up from her position lounging by the side of the lake and ran over to check on you.

You stood and brushed off your robes nonchalantly. “I actually needed that. Nurse Blainey told me to add more gravel to my diet.” While you cleaned the dirt from your forehead and hoped the bruise you could feel blossoming around your nose wasn’t too horrible, you searched around for the leather traveling bag you’d been holding. It remained unscathed on the bottom step where you’d dropped it. Poppy giggled.

“There’s less dangerous ways to go about that, you know.” Her voice–Merlin. It had a light rasp and a musical quality that sounded like the windchimes that hung outside the Beasts classroom–coincidentally the first place you’d laid eyes on the most beautiful girl you’d ever seen. 

“I brought you something,” you began, trying to open the clasp of the bag without sustaining another injury in front of her. “She made me work for her.” You reached inside the bag and rummaged around for a moment before your hand magically summoned a little squeaking ball of fur into itself. “Ah, here we are.”

You held out the pink and purple puffskein to Poppy, whose face transformed into a ray of sunlight. “You DIDN’T! Look at her coloring! Oh, thank you, she’s so beautiful, I love her, I love her, I love her!” she cried in pure delight as she held the disoriented puffball to her cheek and spun around with her. 

One hundred thousand, you decided in that instant. You would catch approximately one hundred thousand puffskeins if it meant you got even a tenth of that reaction from her in the future. She looked happy enough to burst into one of her spirited rants about the properties of puffskein fur and how a well-cared for Puff could actually be used for levitating properties if you overfed it just the right amount, and God, you hoped she would. 

The two of you walked over to the secluded spot that Poppy had laid out a pale blue blanket over. The grass was soft beneath your knees as you knelt next to her and watched her fuss over her new pet and the air smelled like honeysuckle. Or was it…

“You smell so good,” you breathed, forgetting yourself entirely. “I mean, is that a new soap or..?” You prayed that your lecherous remark had come off as a friendly compliment, but Poppy wasn’t paying attention yet.

“How about Alberta? Hm? What do you think?” she asked the puffskein, tickling it’s belly with her pinky finger. “Is that your name?” 

You could have watched her for hours. The clear day offered a breeze that was wafting her short black hair around her shoulders and occasionally causing pieces to get stuck in her mouth. She spit them out without ever turning her attention from the beast, making an adorable “pthhbt!” noise when she did so. You realized you should probably be looking at and thinking about something other than your best friend. 

“So,” you grinned, as Poppy finally set Alberta down in her lap to stroke her coat. “Anything amazing happen over your summer? I can’t believe it’s our last year already.” A bitter lilt had found its way into your last words. 

Graduation. Sure, it meant the beginning of the rest of your lives, but would it also mean the end of seeing Poppy? You were friends, of course, but friends met up once or twice a year in Hogsmeade to rehash old school days then went back to their separate lives. You were excited for what the future and adulthood held. You were terrified they wouldn’t hold her.

Poppy shrugged. “Nothing spectacular! Gran’s doing well, and I got to see–OH.” 

Her story slamming to a dead halt made you look up, and you saw that her mouth was open in a perfect “O” and her eyes were glittering like the surface of the lake as it rippled and undulated in the wake of the giant squid swimming laps. “You will never guess who asked me to go get a butterbeer with them. The second I walked through the castle doors today, no less.”

Your stomach twisted into a Celtic knot of green, writhing, jealousy. It wasn’t as if you could get upset; you’d had two years now to do the same as whatever Lothario she seemed bursting with excitement over. The only thing stopping you was, well…

“Who?” you asked through a tight-lipped smile, trying to pretend you were interested in this juicy bit of gossip. 

“Imelda.”

If the giant squid had suddenly risen up out of the water and performed the climax to Carmen, you doubted you would have been more stunned. “Wh-uh, well, uh…huh, I, uh. Hm.” You searched the empty expanse of your mind for a single word. “Wow.”

“I know!” Poppy giggled again, placing her hand over her full lips as she did so. “Who would have thought she was so soft for me, deep down.” 

Hearing the words “soft for me” fall from precious, pure, and innocent Poppy Sweeting’s lips made your head spin like a top. You inwardly bemoaned your filth-ridden mind and tried to shake it straight as you made sense of the whole situation playing out in front of you. “So…” you started, slowly, not trusting the words to come out of you in the correct order, or frankly, language. “Are you going to go with her?” Poppy’s expression fell a bit, and she looked down at the grass.

“I dunno,” she said. She started ripping up chunks of grass and casting the blades into the breeze so they floated away. A nervous habit of hers, you knew. “I mean, well. She’s a girl.”

And there it was. Your heart was a blackened lump as it sunk to the bottom of your feet. “Sure.”

Poppy was sweet. Poppy was kind. Poppy rambled when she got excited, and Poppy was the only person you’d ever pictured being by your side after you left Hogwarts. Doing what, it didn’t matter in the slightest to you. As long as she was there and she was happy, you would be happy. But Poppy had been raised by a witch with traditional values, and part of her values included explaining to Poppy that one day she would meet a wonderful wizard and fall in love, and that was the only possible happy ending for her storybook. Gran wasn’t hateful, if anything quite the opposite, but she hadn’t taken the time away from her beasts to explain the more delicate natures of love and sex.

You could still remember the time in fifth year Poppy had found you in the library studying and pulled a chair up, dropping down in it to announce somewhat loudly and without a trace of shame, “Did you know that two witches could technically have sex without a wizard being involved?” Her expression had been completely serious. You had glanced down at the book you had been reading to see if it happened to contain the correct thing to say in this instance. Potions and their Properties had stared blankly back at you. 

“I mean, I suppose she’s pretty,” Poppy was musing, jerking you back to the present. “I like her enough, but she’s a bit mean sometimes.” Her brow furrowed and she looked up at you. “Plus, I’m not sure if I could kiss another girl. I don’t know if I’d enjoy it.”

Your gaze was fixed on Gryffindor tower. You were almost certain it was tall enough for the fall to kill you. 

“Have you ever kissed one?”

Blood rushed into your cheeks and you struggled to find words. Or rather, you struggled with the idea of telling the truth or not. The truth was that no, you hadn’t kissed another witch; the only kiss you had experienced was a reluctant and simpering one with Leander at a New Year’s celebration in the Three Broomsticks as the clock struck midnight. It wasn’t nice for anyone involved. But you were absolutely sure you would enjoy it if you got to kiss the girl you dreamed about nightly. However, if you told her that you hadn’t, the conversation would most likely be tabled in favor of discussing Alberta’s family backstory (Poppy had to assign a fictitious past to all her pets) and you’d lose the opportunity to execute the horrible plan that had just formed in your mind.

You were awful. Awful. If you opened your mouth and said what you were going to say, it would be a gigantic breach of Poppy’s trust, and her naïveté was something delicate that you never wanted to take advantage of. If you did this, it would be unforgivable.

“Yes,” you said and shrugged. It was surprising how easily the lie wormed its way out of you. “Once. I fooled around with an older Hufflepuff up in the Astronomy tower after a party. She was lovely and the firewhiskey made it seem like a wonderful idea.” Oh, you absolute wretch. Adding elaborate detail to the lie now.

Poppy’s eyes were wide as a mooncalf’s. “Really?” she breathed. She was studying you with rapt devotion, like you were a creature that she’d never encountered before. If you hadn’t been betraying her trust completely, you would have been swooning.

“Mmhmm.” You decided to cut it there and hope that this conveniently graduated Hufflepuff girl never got brought up again. “So, who knows? I say give Imelda a chance.” Poppy chewed her bottom lip, its pinkness giving way to white as she contemplated your idiotic suggestion. Give her a chance? You’d just blown the perfect opportunity to help your dear friend with a tough situation by snogging her senseless. As friends do.

“Maybe I will…” She seemed to have more to say, but she trailed off and looked out over the lake once more. Hogwarts loomed over the both of you, and it suddenly felt like the end of your seventh year couldn’t come fast enough. If Poppy did enjoy her little date with Imelda, you’d have to watch the two of them walking to breakfast together, watch Imelda tuck the strands of Poppy’s hair that always distracted her during Charms class behind her ear for her. The thought made you want to be sick all over the blanket you both sat on.

Poppy cleared her throat, once more rousing you from your sullen fantasies. “What if…if it’s not too strange…” Your heart plummeted backwards up from your feet to your throat and started hammering there. Was she really going to suggest…? 

It was her turn to blush now as she yanked three more handfuls of grass out. “Come on,” she muttered, too embarrassed to meet your eyes. “What if we tried it?”

You tried your absolute best to not jump up and start doing Garreth Weasley’s Quidditch victory dance, which involved a lot of gyrating and hip thrusting. You smiled. “Well, alright, Pop, anything for you. It’s fine with me. It could be useful, right?” Alright, calm down, your brain hushed. You’ve sold it, now shut up and kiss her.

“Alright,” she agreed, starting to look excited. “Maybe this will be fun!” It wasn’t the exact conditions that you’d one day hoped to kiss her under, but it maybe being fun was as good a reason as any for you. 

You cleared your throat a little and scooted across the blanket until your knees were touching. The sun, which had been high in the sky when you met up with her, now hung lazily around the three o’clock position, and shadows were being thrown across Poppy’s face by the oak tree you sat beneath. They speckled across her nose like the freckles you spent hours daydreaming of.

“Just a friendly kiss, right?” Poppy asked, and she leaned forward until your noses were touching.

How was this happening, especially so soon after you’d put your entire foot in your mouth with that Hufflepuff girl nonsense. “Of course,” you murmured. Your eyes fell from her ash blue ones to her lips, pink and perfect and then they were pressed against yours. 

You couldn’t help it. A soft moan tumbled from your mouth to hers as you brought your hands up to her hair and wove your fingers against her head. Her lips tasted like every delicious summer fruit you could think of, and you confirmed that the wonderful honeysuckle smell was indeed her hair. The two of you kissed and twisted your heads to slot lips closer for several seconds before Poppy pulled away and her huge eyes stared back at you. You could tell you were panting, but nothing in the world mattered to you anymore. Only kissing her did.

“Oh…wow,” she said. You opened your mouth to brush the entire ordeal off as a nice neighborly favor and hopefully save whatever of your dignity you hadn’t left in her mouth when she launched herself forward and kissed you again, much harder this time. You rocked back on your heels as your hands steadied her by the waist. What? What was happening? Your brain chased answers while your tongue chased hers and you felt her thin frame quiver under your fingertips. “Wow,” she moaned again, breaking just for a second to catch air. You whined at the loss of her lips. “You kiss wonderfully.” A hysterical little laugh bubbled up from her chest and you tugged her back to your mouth. As long as she wasn’t actively shoving you away, you were going to spend the rest of your days kissing this woman. 

It was her turn to thread her hands into your hair, and she actually pulled the locks with a sharp tug. “Pop!” You shrieked in indignation, but she just giggled herself giddy and moved her kisses to your jawline. You wanted to remain indignant, but truth be told, the hair tug had sent a shockwave to your core and you felt wetness pooling between your legs. “Poppy,” you panted again, trying to break her concentration, but she was determined to kiss the entire length of your neck, it appeared, and you lost the will to even try and stop her. But decency won out, and you pulled her by her chin back to eye-level and said, “Do you want to keep doing this? I mean, are we going to talk ab–”

“No,” she huffed, cutting you off with several small pecks. “No, let’s just…Merlin! I enjoy kissing girls!” The statement was just sweet enough and just funny enough and just Poppy enough to make the both of you dissolve into laughter. You laughed for several seconds before you sobered up from the high of her body pressed into yours and you wondered if you should keep at this. Your hands were still holding her waist, and hers were wrapped lightly around your neck. “I know kissing Imelda won’t be like this. This, this is…” She grabbed your bottom lip in her teeth and pulled it, relinquishing it with a pop! Gods, was this the same Poppy Sweeting who asked Sebastian Sallow what he meant by saying he’d like to take her for a ride on his broomstick, because “Sebastian, we’re in Hogsmeade. We can’t fly here!”?

You nodded. You’d agree to signing up for NEWT level Arithmancy at this point. Anything to keep her in your arms.

“Lay down,” you whispered, and she complied instantly, pulling you down with her into a mind-decimating snog that had you instinctively shedding your house robes and swinging your leg over her waist to hover above her. Frenzied lust was making the decisions for you at this point. Poppy wasn’t protesting, or pointing out the fact that this was still technically her first girl kiss; on the contrary, she was unclasping her own robes and shimmying them out from under her, then yanking you back down. 

“Hey, Pop?” Poppy replied with an unintelligible string of “mmmm”s that, judging by the way she was moving her hands down your back to your backside, seemed more like moans.

“Did you know two witches can have sex without a wizard even–”

“Shut it!” she cried, her voice raising in adorable anger. You’d teased her lightly in the wake of that question years ago, and how could you not bring it up in such a perfect moment as this? She ran her fingers down the back of your skirt, then, using her fingernails in a delicious scrape that made every nerve in your body dance, and pulled it up over your ass. Her nails dug into the soft flesh there and you groaned before moving your knee in between her legs. 

“Aaah!” Poppy gasped in sheer delight as her core bumped against your knee and she realized that you were pleasuring her. Your kisses grew sloppier as she began shamelessly grinding on your leg. Her thigh-length skirt was impeding the process, so you flipped it up as she had done yours and saw…You closed your eyes and said a quick prayer of thanksgiving. Merlin, she was wearing white lace panties. And–

“Fuuuuck,” you whined, your finger ghosting over the embroidered poppy at the top of them. “You’re so fucking sweet, Sweeting!” 

But Poppy had devolved into a needy mess by now. She was barely holding onto her composure as she demanded, “Please, please! Show me how to do this, I want this, puh-leeease, I want this!” You’d never seen Poppy demand anything in her life, let alone sex. You couldn’t have imagined the sight being as perfect as it was. Her cheeks flushed, hair splayed out behind her on the blanket, her chest rising and falling rapidly as a dark, wet spot on her panties rubbed against your leg. Then her words really registered in your lust-addled mind. 

Show me how to do this.

Fuck. 

The last thing on Earth you wanted was for this to end, but the one remaining shred of decency that hadn’t escaped when her underwear was exposed forced you to choke out, “Ok, wait.” Poppy wanted to do nothing of the sort.

“Talk later, do this now,” she breathed, attempting to pull you back into a kiss, but you climbed off her fully and sat back on your heels. She pulled herself to a half-sitting position and pouted with swollen lips, “What? What’s wrong?” 

You swallowed. Your throat was dry as sand as you attempted to get the words out. Everything had been going so well, like a dream you never wanted to wake up from. But your idiotic lie had come back to bite you, and you had to come clean now.

“I’ve, uh…I’m sorry, Pop. I lied.” You couldn’t meet her eyes and looked instead at the bald patches of grass where she’d earlier done her gardening work. “I’ve never done this before. I’m so, so sorry, but when you asked, I thought maybe–and I’ve wanted this for ages, to be honest, so I made up that stupid story about the older girl and—when really, I only wanted to kiss you but now I’ve gone and–well, you never want to see me again, I’m sure of it, so I’ll keep out of your way, and again, I’m so sorry, I–”

Poppy’s laugh went from a low chuckle to ultrasonic. It was so intense and so overwhelming, no sound was issuing forth from her mouth. She clambered onto all fours and promptly fell over again, doubled over from the apparent hilarity of it all. Your brow furrowed.

“Poppy.”

She was still beside herself, her normal giggle replaced with a raucous hysterical belly-laugh that was shaking her entire body. “You thought–” She gasped between breaths, but then laughter overtook her once more. If you hadn’t been so dreadfully nervous that you were about to lose the love and the great friend of your life, you would have almost been annoyed. 

When she finally managed to sit up and form a few sentences, they were, “You colossal git! Oh, really, there was not actually a suave older witch who showed you how to explore a woman’s body?” Poppy clasped her hands on either side of her head in mock shock. “I can’t believe this. You’ve utterly betrayed my trust.”

You sputtered. “What? Well, haven’t I?” Poppy descended into laughter again.

“Of COURSE not! Come now, you bellend! I knew you were lying the second you opened your mouth! As if I wouldn’t have heard about this little Astronomy tower encounter the second after it happened? Please. I had to hear about Leander Prewett missing your lips entirely for a month after it happened.” You gaped at her. 

“Then why–?”

“Because!” Poppy threw her hands in the air and smiled at you, prettier than a sunset. “I wanted this, too. I didn’t know what to say.” She reached for one of your hands and took it in her own. “You are everything to me, darling. You’re my best friend and confidant, and you make me feel strong and beautiful, and like I can do anything.”

“Well, you can do anything,” you whispered, smiling now too. She waved off your sentiment and continued,

“Not to mention, my God. Your ass is downright heavenly!” Your jaw dropped at precious little Poppy Sweeting’s words. All this time, you’d been being ogled, even as you were ogling?

It seemed you were an oblivious pair, well-suited to each other.

A thought occurred to you. “So, Imelda…?” 

Poppy blushed, bashful at the extent of her own deception. “Er, no. She did not ask me to get a butterbeer.” She leaned forward and kissed the tip of your nose, twisting a strand of your hair around her finger at the same time. “But you get jealous easily.”

“Fucking hell, Poppy!” You were writhing under your best friend, whose second and third fingers were currently sunk knuckle-deep inside you, curling up into a spot that made your view of the top of Poppy’s four-poster swim. You clutched the sheets beneath you until your knuckles were white, her fingers pushing in and out in the most perfect way you could imagine. 

“Am I doing alright?” She purred, knowing full well the answer. 

After the feelings between you were confessed, you’d been unable to stop from stripping one another bare and fucking repeatedly behind the gigantic oak tree at the edge of the lake. Her body was everything you’d dreamed and more. Small but perky breasts that you were addicted to kissing, grabbing, and biting at every available opportunity, long legs that kept pulling you in for a snog when you were trying to finger her, and her tongue…fuck, that tongue. When she’d first dropped herself between your legs and looked at your drenched cunt, she’d murmured, “Well, here we go!” and bumped her nose against your clit, causing a twisted cry to fly from your throat. 

You’d both quickly figured out the pros and cons of two witches having sex; one of the pros was that Poppy was a tease of a top, on the rare occasion she did not feel like fulfilling her duties as resident princess of the pillows. They were precisely no cons. You ate her out a minimum of once a day, sometimes twice if you could manage to pull her away from the beast paddock long enough. Her taste was sweeter than anything at Honeydukes, and you were surely addicted to it. Even after two months, you couldn’t get enough.

You two were currently wrapped up and sweating in her bedsheets and praying that no one would notice a lock charm on the Hufflepuff girl dormitories in the middle of an unseasonably warm November afternoon. 

“Come for me, baby,” she giggled. She fucked her fingers in and out three times in rapid succession then slowed her pace greatly, causing you to thrash and whine with want. 

“T-tease!” You choked out.

“Only a tease if I don’t make you come,” she reprimanded, and as she continued moving her fingers, brought the heel of her hand up to rub against your clit. Stars sparked in your eyes and you screamed, pleading with her for release. She bumped and ground against your clit repeatedly until–

“Shit, baby, Poppyyy, I’m–!” Your orgasm crashed over you. A tidal wave would have been gentler. Poppy kept moving her fingers gently, a self-satisfied smile that she always wore when she got you to scream playing across her lips.

She collapsed next to you, watching your chest heave with the effort of catching your breath and coming back to Earth. Gods, this woman was so much more of a minx than she had ever seemed to be. “Hey,” she said softly as you panted. “My gran wants to know if I’m coming home for Christmas.” You sat up on one elbow. “Oh? Are you?”

Poppy chewed her lip, and you could tell she wished she had a handful of grass to rip up right about now. “I’d like to,” she began, “but I really only want to go if–”

“I’d love to, Pop.” And her face broke into that honeysuckle-sweet beaming smile that made you want to keep it in place forever.

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