Fic: Morning After | Angelina Johnson | PG-13
Title: Morning After
Characters: Angelina Johnson/OMC
Words: 160
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Author's Note: Another lil something. I've fallen behind on my archiving so sorry for all the fic. This was written for hp_humpdrabbles with the prompt "Regret is the insight that comes too late."
Late morning sun filters in through the window, agitating her into consciousness. Angelina feels the warm bed and tangled sheets but doesn't remember how she got there. When she opens a hazel eye to inspect her surroundings, pain explodes. Her mouth is dry and tastes like cigarettes and alcohol.
Shifting weight and rustling sheets tell her that she's not alone. Rolling over, she catches sight of broad shoulders decorated with livid red scratches and she remembers.
"Oh, yeah, baby, ride that broomstick! Fuck yes, you're a star!"
Suppressing a groan, she untangles herself and tries to escape as quietly as possible, collecting her dress and heels on tiptoe. There's a practiced ease to her motions that few people ever accomplish with one-off but Angelina isn't most people.
She doesn't bother leaving a note; she doesn't even remember his name. All she wants is her own flat where she can nurse her hangover in peace.
Never again, she lies to herself as she Disapparates.
Characters: Angelina Johnson/OMC
Words: 160
Rating: PG-13
Warnings: None.
Author's Note: Another lil something. I've fallen behind on my archiving so sorry for all the fic. This was written for hp_humpdrabbles with the prompt "Regret is the insight that comes too late."
Late morning sun filters in through the window, agitating her into consciousness. Angelina feels the warm bed and tangled sheets but doesn't remember how she got there. When she opens a hazel eye to inspect her surroundings, pain explodes. Her mouth is dry and tastes like cigarettes and alcohol.
Shifting weight and rustling sheets tell her that she's not alone. Rolling over, she catches sight of broad shoulders decorated with livid red scratches and she remembers.
"Oh, yeah, baby, ride that broomstick! Fuck yes, you're a star!"
Suppressing a groan, she untangles herself and tries to escape as quietly as possible, collecting her dress and heels on tiptoe. There's a practiced ease to her motions that few people ever accomplish with one-off but Angelina isn't most people.
She doesn't bother leaving a note; she doesn't even remember his name. All she wants is her own flat where she can nurse her hangover in peace.
Never again, she lies to herself as she Disapparates.