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sloanesallow · 6 months ago

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The Call of the Void | Chapter 4

Shy girl meets distracted boy. Chaos ensues. This is my "canon" retelling of Siobhan Sloane and Sebastian Sallow's story. (full synopsis here. Chapter Summary: Sebastian finally notices the new fifth-year. This chapter features art by @puridewart 💛 3.5k words Chapter warnings: Mild Leander-Slander, but that's mostly because this is a Sebastian POV chapter. [Ao3] | [Wattpad] [PREVIOUS] | [NEXT]

IV: D u e l

Sebastian wakes up on Tuesday in a bad mood.

Only a week into the new school year and he’s already regretting the choice to overload his class schedule with extracurriculars, bringing the total to fourteen. Combined with his late-night research in the restricted section on possible cures for Anne, Sebastian is lucky if he sleeps for more than a few hours if he sleeps at all.

The previous evening was supposed to be spent in the library, but instead, he stays up writing forty inches on ancient runes, cursing under his breath at the absurdity of a professor assigning such a task the first week of school. He falls asleep before he can finish, slumped over his dormitory desk, quill in hand. When Ominis wakes him up the following morning, Sebastian’s neck is stiff, fingers stained with ink, and stomach rumbling. The clock in their shared room shows breakfast isn’t possible, not if he wants to be late for Defense Against the Dark Arts.

“Why didn’t you wake me sooner?” he grumbles, shedding the clothes he fell asleep in for a clean set as he weighs the pros and cons of skipping class in favor of leftover toast.

“I did,” Ominis counters, flicking his wand to remove the wrinkles from Sebastian’s uniform. “You told me to quote, eat runes and die.” He turns to leave. “At least, that is what I think you said—your sleep-deprived Gaelic needs some work.”

Sebastian rolls his eyes, securing the knot of his Slytherin-green tie as he follows after Ominis, the two walking in amiable silence from the dungeons to the western tower. His eyes are still heavy as he thinks about the day ahead, thankful there are only two classes to suffer through, with the rest of the afternoon and evening to do as he pleases. While sleep is preferable—and desperately needed—he still has several other assignments to work on, readings to complete, and projects to get a head-start on. Not to mention wanting to follow up on a promising lead for Anne, discovered while researching abnormal curses. There simply isn’t enough time in the day.

He sighs, I’ll sleep when I’m dead.

“Merlin’s sagging arse, Sallow. You look terrible.”

Sebastian clenches his jaw in annoyance as Leander greets him outside the D.A.D.A. classroom. “Prewett.”

The Gryffindor certainly became bolder over the summer, likely due to the growth spurt that finally brought him to the same height as the other fifth-year boys. Sebastian doesn’t want to think Leander’s newfound confidence has anything to do with Miss Morrison—how the gangly redhead managed to woo her is anyone’s guess.

The statues framing the doorway blink as the two exchange similar scowls, only moving when Ominis sighs in the threatening way only he can achieve. Leander doesn’t let up, however, taking advantage of the fact Professor Hecat hasn’t arrived yet.

“Rough night?” he prods. “We missed you at Crossed Wands. Does that mean you’re too busy to defend your title?”

“Like hell!” Sebastian exclaims, catching the way Leander’s eyes widen in alarm, but it’s too late for Prewett to back down now. The reminder of what else he’s missing out on only adds to his stress. Sebastian rolls up his sleeves and brandishes his wand. “No time like the present.”

“Sebastian,” Ominis warns. “No.”

Sebastian laughs, “yes.”

Leander falters, stumbling as he barely deflects Sebastian’s first cast. “No fair, Sallow!” he complains, the two moving into taunting stances on opposite sides of the classroom. “I wasn’t ready!”

“You should know by now that I don’t play fair,” Sebastian counters with a sarcastic chuckle. “Stupify!”

The impromptu duel excites the rest of the class as they arrive, quickly gathering to watch as he and Leander exchange a flurry of spells. It’s frustrating how good Prewett is—he wouldn’t be a member of Crossed Wands otherwise—but Sebastian knows he is better—the best.

“Is that all you’ve got?” he taunts after blocking the redhead’s attempt to disarm. “Bombarda!”

Leander’s last-second shield charm doesn’t save him from the aftershock of the small explosion, propelling him backward into a large stack of books. His fellow Gryffindor, Cressida Blume, runs to help while the others cheer for Sebastian’s victory. He cockily grins until Professor Hecat appears in the doorway of her office that oversees the classroom. She sighs, shaking her head in disapproval before slowly descending the stairs.

“Perhaps I should be grateful you avoided the Hebridean this time.” Her ire shifts to Leander, who fails at shrugging off Cressida’s fussing. “I see a review in deflection is needed. Let’s begin with the known variations of Protego.”

There are a few mumbles and groans as the professor gestures for the class to cease their gawking. Sebastian slinks back to his assigned seat, noticing briefly that his deskmate is already there, focused and quiet as ever. Sloane—the new fifth-year. He waits to see if she will say anything as he settles onto the bench, but like every day since her arrival, she remains silent.

Odd.

It isn’t like he’s said anything to her either—he hasn’t had a reason to and isn’t one for forcing conversation, especially on an unwilling participant. What little he knows of the new girl is based on unreliable hearsay and his scant observations of her behavior in the last week. At least she seems a little less terrified than before, undoubtedly due to being rescued by Poppy Sweeting. He’d seen her small triumph at Summoner’s Court, but the use of Accio is hardly impressive. The conclusion Sebastian arrives at is that Sloane is not worth his time.

Under different circumstances, he might find it in himself to be cordial, or even friendly, but those carefree days are in the past. Of course, there is a small flicker of curiosity that anything new brings, but he quickly extinguishes the thought, steeling his mind. There is no time—Anne is his focus, and everything else is a temporary distraction.

He switches his attention back to Professor Hecat, even if today’s lesson is redundant, information he taught himself long before it was required. Instead of taking notes, or at least pretending to read along in the textbook, he fiddles with his wand, twirling it between the fingers on his left hand. He starts to imagine all the other things he could be doing right now, like finishing his Ancient Runes assignment or charming a Prefect to look the other way as he digs through Professor Sharp’s supply room, or—his stomach growls—eating breakfast.

Out of the corner of his eye, he notices Sloane glancing at him, her face contorted in concern. She parts her lips to speak, closes her mouth, and then repeats the action a few times, looking very much like a fish. He might have thought her mute if he hadn’t seen her talking with Poppy in class the day before. Her insufferable shyness reminds him of the first-years who are too nervous to ask him for the common-room password when they’ve forgotten. Mildly perturbed, Sebastian raises an eyebrow, turning his head to look at her directly.

“Can I help you?”

Sloane snaps her gaze back to her notes, scribbling her quill against the parchment, and he leans over slightly to see nonsensical squiggles rather than actual words. Realizing his sudden proximity, she flinches and he immediately pulls away, more perplexed by her demeanor than ever. What he should do is continue to ignore the strange newcomer, but between Hecat’s droning and the girl’s flustered state, he finds the latter more compelling. He continues to look at her, studying her profile and smirking when a flush of pink tints her cheeks.

Cute.

And she is cute, objectively speaking. Sebastian hasn’t given his preferences much thought before, but he isn’t blind. The sunlight spilling in from the windows illuminates Sloane’s ashen-blonde hair—she’s finally cut off the damaged ends, leaving behind a short and wavy crop. The yellow of her jacket makes her look golden, envying Ominis with how tidy her uniform is. She’s pale in a way that accentuates her blush and the dusting of freckles across her cheeks. There’s a faint scar on the bridge of her nose, and he wonders if the cause is magical or mundane.

Her eyes, however, aren’t as doe-like and innocent as he expects; rather, they are a stormy shade of grey with an unsettling depth. A well of sadness, one Sebastian has seen before in his own reflection. Sloane is a kindred spirit, or at least that’s what intuition tells him. His curiosity burns anew.

He should say something.

Maybe.

Professor Hecat speaks first, preventing further rumination. “Since you were all so keen on using this space as a dueling hall, we will now practice these defenses with each other.”

Her announcement excites the class all over again, everyone moving to stand on either side of the room as Hecat moves their desks aside and raises the long dueling table. Cressida and Sirius Black are the first to demonstrate what they’ve learned, and it takes all but a few exchanges for Miss Blume to knock the Headmaster’s son onto his back. He sneers, flicking dust off his tailored jacket as Cressida flourishes under the attention and praise from her classmates.

Sebastian watches the matches intently, making a mental note to mention the outcomes to Lucan Brattleby at the next Crossed Wands meeting. Everett Clopton and Isaac Cooper are next, showcasing how they ought to stick to flying rather than spellcraft. They are shooed from the table when it becomes apparent they’d rather showboat than have a proper duel. Ominis and Adelaide Oakes follow, and their drastically different dueling styles cause Professor Hecat to declare a draw after five minutes. Thereafter, Aurthur Plummy loses to Grace, and Leander suffers his second public humiliation of the day when Imelda sends him toppling from the table and into the same pile of books as before.

While Cressida and Hecat check to see if Prewett is conscious, Sebastian sees Sloane in his peripheral, fidgeting with her wand. It dawns on him that they are the last pair to participate. She holds the same worried expression that she always does, her eyes wide with panic as they flick back and forth between him and the purple-draped table.

“Have you ever dueled before?” he asks.

Sloane hesitates before shaking her head.

“Well then,” Sebastian smirks as Hecat instructs them to take their places. Maybe the new girl will surprise him. “Time for a proper Hogwarts welcome.”

It isn’t until Sebastian turns around in his spot to face his opponent that his bravado fades at the sight of Sloane, her demeanor reminiscent of her arrival to the opening feast. Nervousness is one thing, but Merlin, she looks miserable and afraid, her petite stature doing nothing to help the situation.

Pride won’t allow him to go easy on her—she has to learn somehow, right? Still, he hesitates, even as Professor Hecat allows them to begin. Sloane glances down at her hands before gripping her wand a little tighter, raising her arm defensively. Knowing she is unlikely to cast first, Sebastian flicks his wrist, almost thankful when she blocks the blast of magic at the last possible moment.

She stumbles backward, rebounding when she more easily deflects his second attack. Sebastian relaxes, wondering if the new fifth-year really is the prodigy rumors claim her to be and is hiding her talents behind a meek facade.

He tests this theory, casting with more conviction. “Stupify!”

Her shield charm appears without an incantation, and he’s stunned long enough that her basic cast slips past his Protego. Sebastian staggers, widening his stance to avoid falling over. He’s been hit by all sorts of spells in his lifetime, but whatever power Sloane possesses feels different—unnerving and pleasant at the same time.

The strange sensation doesn’t stop him from returning fire, the class collectively gasping as she fails to protect herself in time. Sloane takes the full brunt of his magic, yelping as she’s sent flying off the end of the table. Even though he’s just won the dual, victory feels hollow. Sebastian may have the reputation as Hogwarts’ best duelist, but he won’t be known as a bully.

Before he realizes what he’s doing, Sebastian rushes down the length of the table, hopping off the edge in time to see Sloane slowly pushing herself off the ground, clearly dazed by the outcome. She rubs the back of her head, wincing in pain. Guilt churns his stomach and he reaches out, offering his hand.

“Here,” he murmurs, hoping he looks as non-threatening as possible.

Sloane stares up at him with glossy, storm-cloud eyes and the sight makes his chest weigh heavy with shame. He can’t tell if her unshed tears are from embarrassment or a bruised skull. She shakily reaches up and Sebastian can’t blame her hesitation, grasping her hand to hoist her upright. As soon as she is standing, her gaze darts away, and before he can ask if she’s alright he is being pushed away by another flash of yellow as Adelaide arrives to help.

“That is enough for today,” Professor Hecat announces, dismissing the class with a wave of her hand. “Please continue to review and practice your defensive spells without hurting each other.”

Sebastian frowns and looks down at his right hand, flexing his fingers as they tingle. He lingers, eavesdropping as Hecat offers some encouragement to Sloane before suggesting that Adelaide take her to the hospital wing for a quick exam.

“You as well, Mr. Prewett,” she says, just before the Gryffindor wobbles out of the classroom. He groans, rubbing his temple as Cressida happily offers to escort him. Just as Sebastian moves to leave as well, Professor Hecat clears her throat. “Mr. Sallow.”

He stops and slowly turns, attempting to charm the professor with a cheeky smile. She isn’t impressed, hands on her hips as she shakes her head. Perhaps one day, he won’t be such a disappointment.

“Yes, Professor?” he inquires, feigning innocence. Hecat rolls her eyes, unimpressed.

“I have a request for you,” she starts, clasping her hands. “It appears our newest student could use some help with her studies. Are you familiar with Miss Sloane outside of class?”

Sebastian wonders if Hecat is making the assumption based on his chivalrous behavior. He lifts a shoulder in a noncommittal shrug. “Not really,” he answers, even though the real answer is not at all.

“No matter,” she dismisses his response. “Perhaps you’d be willing to invite her to that little dueling club you think is a secret from the staff.”

“What?” he says, in disbelief, shaking his. “You have to actually be good at dueling to join Crossed Wands.”

“So that is what you call it,” Professor Hecat’s sly smile makes Sebastian nervous. “But that is exactly my point, Mr. Sallow. Miss Sloane needs to catch up with the rest of her peers, and what better way to accomplish that than to be tutored by the best?”

Sebastian should be flattered by the compliment, but he remains reluctant to agree. “Might I think about it?” he asks, unsure if even he has the time to attend Brattleby’s club, let alone take Sloane under his wing. Maybe he can set her up with Onai—she’s talented enough, and the two are more likely to get along.

“So,” he drags the word out in an attempt to change the subject, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Am I—”

“Still in trouble?” Professor Hecat finishes, and he swears she looks amused by the situation. “Yes.”

“But—”

“I warned you about using unsanctioned spells in my classroom, Mr. Sallow,” she reminds and he sighs, knowing she is right. “Not to worry, as soon as his head clears, Mr. Prewett will be spending the next several days organizing and repairing the books he damaged.”

It’s never been easy for Sebastian to apologize. “I—” he swallows thickly. “I’m sorry, Professor Hecat.”

She nods curtly. “Good. Now, run along. I’ll let Professor Binns know to expect you this evening.”

Detention—Sebastian’s mood worsens as he finally leaves the classroom. He should’ve gone to breakfast.

|_ | _ | _ | _|

After devouring his evening meal in the great hall, Sebastian begrudgingly makes his way to the dungeons, but instead of returning to the Slytherin common room for the evening, he diverts toward the familiar door at the end of a long hall. The detention chamber is a dark, cramped room, full of old desks and oddities from a bygone era. He eyes the stockade in the corner and shivers, grateful he didn’t attend Hogwarts when the torture of students was permitted.

Sebastian is surprised to see Professor Weasley instead of the ghostly Binns, and she greets him with a cordial smile, even as she confiscates his wand. It’s only for the next few hours, but the separation creates an uncomfortable knot in his chest. He sighs, flopping down into the least dusty bench, unceremoniously dropping his satchel on the desk in front of him. He waits to see if anyone else enters the room, but of course, he’s the only one with detention this evening. The school year has only just begun—this must be a new record.

He glances at the clock—three hours until curfew. Easy enough.

For the first hour, he finally finishes his assignment for Ancient Runes, pleased with the results. Next, he reads through an old tome, carefully moving the pages so they don’t turn to dust. Most of the text is in Sanskrit, which even Sebastian cannot begin to fathom how to translate. Still, there is much to be gleaned from the diagrams and drawings of ancient rituals depicting what he can only guess is dark magic.

“Mr. Sallow.”

Sebastian flinches, momentarily worried he’ll be caught with such an illicit book. He pretends to be taking notes as if it is just another one of his many coursebooks, anxiously glancing up as Professor Weasley stands to approach.

“I have a request for you,” she says and he nearly tells the professor to queue up behind Hecat. Instead, he neatly folds his hands over the tome in a poor attempt to disguise its true contents.

“What kind of request?” he asks, already suspicious.

Professor Weasley flashes another polite smile. “This concerns our newest student—”

“Sloane?” he confirms with a raised eyebrow. It has to be a coincidence.

“Why, yes,” the Deputy Headmistress replies. “You share many classes—are you—”

“Not at all,” Sebastian interrupts, biting his tongue when her expression falters. “I mean…” he taps his fingers against the desk. He and Sloane are in a lot of the same classes, but he isn’t interested in anything more. Especially after today’s events, he is likely a jerk to be avoided at all costs.

“I’d like you to escort Miss Sloane to Hogsmeade tomorrow afternoon,” she explains, ignoring his distressed state. “And before you worry about your classes, I have already sent an owl excusing your absence.”

Sebastian frowns. Why is he, out of all the students in the school, suddenly being trusted with such responsibility? “Are you certain?”

Professor Weasley nods.

“Is this punishment?” he asks next.

“No, do you think it is punishment?”

Sebastian doesn’t answer.

“You need a distraction, Mr. Sallow,” she sighs, and he realizes very quickly she—and perhaps the other professors—mean to keep him busy so that he stays out of trouble in his endeavor to cure Anne. Solomon—he grumbles to himself, knowing his uncle has something to do with this.

“You know the area, and understand how important it is to avoid danger,” Professor Weasley continues. “Victor Rookwood may be terrorizing the Highlands, but Hogwarts and the Hogsmeade village will be safe.”

Sebastian still isn’t convinced but doesn’t bother with arguing. He relents with a small nod, lips pursed in a straight line. “Fine.”

“I’ll have you know, Mr. Sallow,” the Headmistress speaks in a softer, kinder tone. “Despite your penchant for detention, you are one of the few students I can trust to be kind to the young miss.”

Ironic, considering what he’d done that morning. Kindness usually doesn’t result in concussions. Sebastian suddenly finds himself thinking about Sloane’s sad eyes and the sympathy he felt towards her at that moment. Maybe Professor Weasley is right, and he is kind, without even realizing it. His reputation could be worse, but first impressions are everything and he’d already made an utter arse of himself.

Tomorrow, he’d find out for certain.

Comments, likes and reblogs are appreciated 💛

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow x f!mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #hufflepuff oc #siobhan sloane #fanfic

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oogalaboogalabich · 7 months ago

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More post headshot Ghoap for ya. farside of fucked up. nsfw.

<---------->

"Heh yer cryin' again Johnny"

Smoke billows from Ghosts lips as he speaks, smirking from just under the scrunched edge of his balaclava.

He tapped the cigarette into the ash tray and leaned more weight onto his elbow. The one currently pressed into the back of soaps neck.

All of Soaps cursing regresses into sounds more resembling that of a caged animal, one throwing itself at the bars of its prison.

Ghost laughs soft and low when a spray of spittle hisses out from between those bared teeth.

He's got the man bent over some random fuckers cot, arse up and face down.

"Fuckin spittin cobra, you are... all fangs and venom, now."

He pulls at his hair and forces soaps head up at an uncomfortable angle.

"Open yer mouth..." he slaps their cheek and watches that lip split, tongue darting out to taste thier own blood.

"Open it. There we go...let me see 'em...show me those new teeth of yours."

He lowered their lip with a finger, rubbing along the gums and smirked at the savage little addition to their maw. He'd have to retrain the lad to keep those off him. But in the meantime...well he didn't mind a little pain.

Ghost had been there when Soap had stormed out of briefing a few days previous.

Man had been fidgeting like a fuckin heroin addict on withdrawal, gnawing on his tongue just to keep himself in check. Something pissed them off on mission.

It was obvious these days if anything was wrong with them, and he'd been in a right state. Soap hadn't said a word unless spoken to directly, hyper-fixating on something he wouldn't be capable of tearing away from until it was satisfied or proper shot-down.

The next morning, Ghost had caught a flash of sharpened, filed teeth all along his lower jaw. 'Fuckin hell, kiddo...what is goin -on- in that head?'

Johnny wasn't a frivolous sort of man anymore, mores the pity. It had been for utility, not aesthetic. hard not to respect the reasoning.

"more effective to bite up and tear away than down." He'd said. "Like squeezing versus pulling a trigger." Bloody feral bastard that he was these days.

It was different, it wasn't his old Johnny. Never would be again. But that was fine....

Better than fine.

"Saw what you did to the stiff on the stairwell. Flipped the bastard over before anyone else saw."

"Am I supposed t' thank ye?"

"Christ Johnny, the mans face was gone. Goes against human fuckin decency what you're doin to these poor sods."

"Wanted him pretty for me."

"Pretty as me?"

"Aye sir."

Ghost's eyes widen a fraction before they narrow again, lips curling upwards while he exhales another waft of grey-blue smoke.

"...Is it me you're killin' out there?"

Soaps fingers clawed into the sheets as he met Simons thrusts and thrashed against him all at once. Like he couldn't -decide- on an answer. Kid couldn't separate anything anymore. Fucking, fighting, eating, killing, laughing, crying. It was all just one giant fuckin rage out now.

It looked exhausting; had him angry on behalf of his boy. Soap deserved to remain as he had been. To keep that part of himself; that sweet little demolitions nutcase with a smile that outshone the fucking sun.

"Out there cuttin' down ghosts and effigies?"

Reduced to a live grenade with a missing pin and ghosts thumb over the spoon. Shitty metaphors aside...

"Or do you just like eatin' on them?

"...its not about saving lives anymore is it? king and country....civvies and mates back home...you don't give a fuck anymore, do you? Nah..." he bends over, flush with soap and places a kiss to the wound at his head. Follows it with a deliberate and slow swipe of his tongue. "Little bastard here stole that from you."

"You're a man-eater now Johnny. Got a taste for it....watching them drop quick and easy? All rot n' piss to monsters like us...

"Flesh from fuckin' bone 'tween our teeth, Tastin' the terror in their sweat...Makin 'em suffer proper for the sport of it. Yeah?

"The bloody Tsavo Lions, us."

"Aye sir..." Soap flashes a manic sort of grin. "The Ghost and the fokken Darkness..."

"You my Darkness, Johnny?"

"You're my Ghost ain't ye?"

"Like the sound o' that. Say it again."

"Fokk off."

"Say it or I'll give this nut to the fuckin floor."

The wall was losing plaster now, and there was an angry shout from next room over. They could shove that noise complaint straight up their-

"Yer my gho- Ghost, Simon."

"Again."

"Ghost...my Ghost!"

"Again!" His command is a chest deep growl, shoving soap deeper into the thin mattress. It pitches them both forward, muffling the near rabid snarling of his name, again and again like a mantra.

He slides his hand under that throat and pulls soaps chin up to choke his voice, leaving just enough passage for a fraction of air.

Ghost watches another wave of tears escape those furious fuckin blues while Soap is wracked with a violent, telltale shudder. He lifts the remains of the cigarette to his lips and takes a long, deep drag; taking his time to catch his breath.

"That's my good boy..."

<----->

If you havent seen The Ghost and The Darkness or read about the Tsavo Maneaters, please do. Gaddamn love those lions.

#golden retriever turned feral #ghost loves that shit #cod mw2 #cod #simon ghost riley #ghost cod #soapghost #john soap mactavish #soap cod #ghoap #ghost x soap #cod mw3 #filthy thoughts

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iheartjohnlennon · 1 year ago

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'Synchronised'

London, '64

Summary: Paul wants to try something new-ish.

Word count: 1,041

Tags: Smut, Light Angst, 69 (Sex Position)

Paul glanced over at your half-naked figure every so often, your feminine silhouette under the duvet made him unbearably stiff.

He veered around to become the big spoon, you could feel his warm flesh flush against your arse, you suspired.

It'd been a relatively long and excruciating day for him, there was no better way to satiate it other than being inside of you of course. It was a principle of life for him, something that always made sense to do, even if it wasn't with you particularly.

But Paul lay in shallow thought beside you on the bed. Despite having such a monumental libido, he had no idea how to go about asking you this, it was rare, even impossible that he felt nervous during pre-shag times.

He sighed in your ear suddenly, you could feel his little mouth kissing your neck. Each smooch sent tingles of pleasure coursing through you. Paul grew more and more desperate for the taste of you and started nibbling. His bid to try to get you to make a noise was successful, your incoherent little whimpers really did it for him.

You turned to finally face him, you were nose close, your breaths mingled.

He had a rat-esque grin on his face, and the creases in his eyes were visible.

You knew exactly what that meant.

"How's about we try somethin' tonigh'?" He asked huskily.

"Like what?" You mused.

Paul was stumped on how to explain it articulately. Him using his mouth on you was a common occurrence, but he hadn't explored any other position than having you on your back, maybe he had you on your hands and knees a few times at that.

He began cautiously, "Well, s'like a position...y'know, sex?"

"Yes Paul, I know what sex is." You snickered.

"Don't get cheeky, y'know wha' I mean love."

You smiled at him, your curiosity piqued. "What is it, Paul?"

A flush graced his cheeks as he went to respond, "I'll show ya, only if yer willin' of course."

Paul's hand reached out, he moved his hand beneath your bra, his fingers grazed your bare nipple. A shiver ran through all your erogenous areas as he did so.

In another fluid motion, he slid the duvet off the bed, it made you feel vulnerable and aroused. A sly smile curved his lips as he took in an eye full, appreciating it.

With a firm grip, his hand settled on your hips, he was repositioning and twisting you in an unfamiliar way.

You felt a rush of excitement and anticipation as his movements seemed to match yours, melding your bodies into a perfect configuration.

His intent became palpable as he adjusted you further, his hands swiftly guided your hips so your heat could meet his mouth. You lightly sat on his face but backwards, it was a nice feeling.

Paul made you mirror him as he lowered your back down. He lowered your head down to his eager hardness, your body settled in his chosen and aligned position. It was a bit odd to you but felt right also.

He shifted your knickers, delicately parting the fabric that separated his tongue from your heat. As he did so, your tongue caressed his cock ever so slowly. He responded with muffled groans, "Mm, mmph," they sent soft vibrations through you.

You moved against his face, he relished in the raw wetness of your heat all over his face, he couldn't get enough of it.

You couldn't look him in the eyes while you were like this but he showed a deep intimacy with his touches.

Paul's hands found their way into your hair, his grasp gentle yet possessive. He wasn't happy with your teasing pace so his fingers threaded through the roots of your hair as he bobbed you up and down in a feral manner. Paul couldn't contain himself, his hips jerked upward as he held your head down, making you gag as you rushed to breathe through your nose.

You moved your head up slightly and his grip stopped as he moved his hands to your hips. You reverted to sucking the tip, reminding him that this was supposed to be a mutual suffocation.

Paul tugged your hips down, the sensation of his full face drove you mad. It was a mismatch of pleasure; his nose was partially in your hole, and his tongue felt velvety against your clit. He gave you tiny flicks, they tickled you; made you twitch. It must've been a bizarre and vulgar view.

Paul was simply devouring you with his mouth, he skillfully alternated between his fervent sucks and long licks. You endeavoured to lift yourself when it became too much, but he held you in place, knowingly overstimulating you.

His hands found solace in holding your head down, he gave rough cues, adjusting the pace at his own accord.

He said, or rather mumbled cheeky things against you, they were somewhat intelligible even though your gagging made it tricky to hear.

'Yer drivin' me mad......Do ya like this?......Don't stop Y/N, please jus' don't stop......I carn't hear ya......'

Paul continued his nips and sucks, he edged you nearer to an inevitable release, and you found yourself clenching. The air around you was thick with an intoxicating scent and tepidity.

You both revelled in the taste and texture of skin, you both knew to take each other rougher as you felt the climaxes coming on.

You could feel his receiving and giving movements becoming more urgent, driven by a sharp instinct to cum.

And then, in a final surge of passion, you tasted his thick secretion. In this position all you could do was swallow, although it was messy as it dripped down. A low groan escaped him, he seemed to be trembling.

Whilst you simultaneously finished with him you felt a profound sense of satisfaction.

It'd finally reached its peak.

Paul, his own body slick with perspiration, tenderly moved you off of him, you could finally look at him. God was it good to finally look at him.

You were both in an utterly disgusting state, with tousled hair, a coat of sweat, and smug expressions.

"You've made a righ' mess." He whispered.

#Spotify #paul mccartney x reader #the beatles #60s rock #the beatles imagine #the beatles smuts #the beatles x reader #vintage #john lennon #paul mccartney #ringo starr #george harrison

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the-fiction-witch · 1 year ago

Text

Pretty Girl

Media Wolf Hall

Character Rafe Sadler

Couple Rafe X Reader

Rating Smut

Concept Cleaning

I hummed a little tune to myself as I dusted and cleaned the bedchamber, I had been in this job for a decent while now and I liked it fine. Rather thankful I was assigned here as I had heard horror stories from my friends assigned to other places. My friend Lisa was assigned to the palace and she tells such stories but I was happy here.

I finished my dusting and began to make the bed as the sheets had been left agar this morning when the house master went to begin his day.

"Ohh good morning" I heard a voice speak up I turned on my heels immediately bowing my head

"Master Sadler" I nodded as I saw him at the door just closing it,

He stood on the dark wooden floor in his thick riding boots, tight leather trousers laced up tight, a white shirt with only really the collar visible, his black shirt tied in the centre of his chest, a matching leather belt at his waist, his fur and hat elsewhere I didn't know where, allowing his blonde locks to sit freely.

Master Sadler was the master of the house and has risen his way high in this world, once born as nothing more than a lowborn commoner to a milk maid and cobbler, he was sent away to work as a ward to Cromwell before even he was a man of importance, to learn business skills and such, he became one of Cromwell's boys and was beside him in his infamous rise and the king found him useful giving him this house and acting on the king's orders from time to time.

"Did you want me to go sir?"

"No no your fine just grabbing some things I have a meeting to go to" he says "continue"

"Yes sir" I nodded turning back to continue with the bed I heard him moving around gathering little things but I didn't pay much attention, I laid the last blanket over the top smoothing it with my hand when I felt a firm and sudden slap on my arse making me jump up stiff as a board with a slight squeal

He chuckled "hello"

"Hello sir" I said

"Hummm look at you" he whispered in my ear as he tugged my dress up until he exposed my bare arse taking a firm grip of a cheek "what a pretty girl" he growled squeezing slightly digging his nails in before slapping again

"Master Sadler I uhh" I began as I felt his arms wrap around me tightly leaving me unable to move "I uhh I'm finished with the bed now sir"

"I see that, it looks lovely. But" he smirked gripping my hips tightly in one quick movement he turned me and pushed me down onto the bed on my back "I think I know a way it can look even lovelier'

"Uhh master Sadler!" I gasped trying to sit up but he crawled into the bed and pushed me back down he lingered over me with a sly smirk I blushed hard utterly confused what was happening unable to look away "I thought you had a meeting sir"

"I do" he smirked his hand playing with my hair then running down my neck and stroking his finger down the centre of my chest all the way down to the hem of my dress "but I have a few minutes" he growled his hands grabbing my ankles

"Master Sadler!" I squealed

"Nice and quiet," he growled his hands moving up my legs pushing them apart and pushing my dress up I tried to squirm away but he was surprisingly strong he chuckled slyly as he had pushed my dress up enough to reveal my bare pussy "a very pretty girl," he smirked, he leant down kissing my neck as he moved between thighs pinned his hips to my own leaving me unable to squirm his hands grabbed my wrists pinning them above my head as he kissed and nibbled grinding his hips against me "Now be a good girl" he smirked licking my cheek leaving me utterly terrified, but I'm not a stupid girl I knew what was about to happen and I knew better then to scream if I did I'd lose my job and given his position I'd be lucky to get off easily he unlaced his tight trousers sitting up in his knees to pull out his cock giving it a few strokes with his hand hardening it more as he bit his lip looking at me

"No please" I begged pushing my dress down over myself holding it tight trying to hide my pussy away

"What's the matter?"

"Please no sir"

"Your master is hard, pretty girl." He ordered "look what you've done to me. Shouldn't a pretty girl who's made me like this be responsible for fixing it?'

"Please sir- I I'm -"

'ohh" he smirked wider "is my pretty girl an innocent flower?" He whispered

I nodded "Yes sir"

"Hummm don't toy with me?" He growled running his finger along my jaw before holding my chin

"I'm not sir, I am"

"Well then," he smirked forcing my dress out of my hands “I shall pluck the innocent flower myself,” He smirked

#thomas brodie sangster #tbs #thomas sangster #tbs smut #tbs imagine #thomas sangster imagine #tbs imagines #thomas brodie sangster imagine #thomasbrodiesangster #thomas brodie sangster smut #rafe sadler imagine #rafesadler #rafe sadler #rafe fic #rafe #rafe smut #rafe sadler smut

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darthbreezy · 1 year ago

Text

A placeholder...

Because things tend to get away from me once the daylight chases the shadows away. (Would rake place in the hypothetical 3 season of Good Omens)

It would most likely be Maggie, who would notice it first - Nina who would ask about it. The tattoo that's almost there. It's not very large, perhaps a couple of inches tall. perhaps half of it pokes over the the stiff collar of his neck. The serpent that's there one moment, gone the next. You have to look and see just so... ''Six shots in a large cup and a large Vanilla Chai... Never noticed that before. Is it new?'' ''Well.. I'' ''Must have got it during that extended business trip then?'' she asked, more to herself than anything as she turned away. ''Say good morning to your partner then.'' On to the next customer, the moment passed. A hurried ''Good Morning'' as Maggie passes him in the street to help in the coffee shop, as is her want. 20 minutes later, Nina and Maggie are tidying up, the initial rush over, Maggie turns to Nina. ''So, did you ask him?'' ''Ask who, and about what?''

''You know!'' Maggie exclaimed, drawing an 'S' on her neck with a dainty finger. ''HIM about THAT!''

Nina looks up, then back at he table she had been wiping with perhaps more vigour then necessary. ''Oh! No...'' she replied absently. ''Didn't seem to want to talk about it actually...'' ''Well if you won't ask him...'' Maggie began as she headed towards the door, but stopped as she saw Nina shaking her head. ''Leave it for now, Maggie,'' she sighed. ''They've only been back together for a little while it seems. Let them get settled.'' She grinned. ''He was always a bit of a Dark Horse. Never really took Mr. Fell to be such a rebel though...'' *** I just wanted to add, yes, I saw it as a sort of 'demonic hickey' in what it appears to be, and how it was done (ie a moment of passion). It serves as both a playful 'this is MINE' and a 'this being is under MY protection, Do NOT F*** with it' mark. I don't doubt Aziraphale has given Crowley one as well, but the invitation to 'put it on my arse' wasn't well received.

#crowley #good omens speculation #crowley x aziraphale

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saturnsorbits · 2 years ago

Note

Bakugou my beloved, we've been together for ages, coming up on a decade!

Bakugou would concede his ideal mountain getaway so that I can be by the ocean. Lie in the sand, bake in the sun and swim to my heart's content in the ocean and villa pool.

I'd like it to be fluffy mostly and to elude to smut 👀 (sexy kiss and grabby hands at most so it won't be a lot of writing or pressure on you bb!)

Also again congrats on the one year here! So happy to have you in the community and always look forward to your reviews on not only my own works but others as well!

🐈‍⬛🖤💣 (kitten x Baku emojis 😂)

Katsuki Kitten

Kitten! 💕

Thank you! I'm so glad I met all of you guys and you've all been so welcoming and kind. I - I really did hit the jackpot when it comes to writer friends 🥰

Top Up

-> Bakugo; Private Villa; 0.8k.

TW: Fluff, Smut, Bakugo is Obsessed with You, Groping, Sun Cream.

'You put sun cream on?'

Bakugo's voice carries from the doorway of your private villa and snakes easily into your ears, disturbing your afternoon bask. Rolling your neck, you squint into the light peering at him from where you're stretched out on your lounger. 'Mmmm.'

The yard of your villa is stunning – the villa itself too, but it's the yard and the connecting private beach that really stands out.

Bakugo really had gone all out for this anniversary.

Sun beats own onto the tile, heating the ground and anything else it can lay its rays on. You included. Waves crash against the shore just a few meters away and seagulls call to each other, sending their calls over the soft sea breeze that has already tried and failed to curl the edges of Bakugo's hair. In the yard itself and safely tucked behind a private gate and four tall, sandstone walls is a deep pool and two large cushioned loungers, one of which has been the location of your daily sunbathing.

'Mmm, yes. Or, Mmm, I need to apply more, but can't be arsed?' He cocks an eyebrow, a smirk already taking his lip as he snatches a bottle from inside and begins the small trek across the yard. Even if you don't need any re-applying, he's going to insist. You've been lying out here for hours, baring yourself to the sun and making him crazy. He'd promised to behave, promised to at least try and not pin you to every available surface and let you actually enjoy yourself, but who could blame him for being insatiable when you're out here looking like that.

From your lounger, you stretch out and let your eyes flutter open when you feel his shadow looming over you. It's far from a bad sight to open your eyes too. Bakugo's shirtless, his body warm and tanned by the sun, a thin layer of water clinging to his collarbones and dripping down his toned stomach from an earlier dip in the pool that hasn't quite evaporated. Your stomach twists, tongue flicking out to lick at your lips.

'Hey, baby.' His voice is gravel, molten and heavy as he reaches down to run his knuckles across your cheek. 'You gonna let me top you up?'

Nodding, you sit up and roll your shoulders trying and failing to loosen the stiffness in your muscles born from sunbathing a touch too long, but before you can attempt to perform a slightly more complex stretch Bakugo's hand is being pressed to the small of your back and urging you forward.

He slips in behind you, letting you occupy the space between his legs as he plants a soft kiss on your cheek. 'Let me, okay?'

You know there's an alterer motive as soon as he upends the sunscreen and squirts it onto his palms, but you can't find it in you to care. Instead, you curve your spine and hiss when his cold hands touch against the skin of your shoulders. His hands feel like heaven as they slip across your skin and begin to knead and press at your back and you rock into his touch, following each of his movements. 'Thanks, Katsuki.'

'Anything for you, Princess.'

'Anything?' A moan slips from your lips as his hands reach around your neck and slip down your arms.

He leans in, pressing his front to your back and nipping at your ear. There's no way you can't feel him hard and aching at your back, but he chooses not to mention it; save this moment be cut short. 'Anything.'

You chuckle then, letting him continue to spread the sun cream on your body. He's diligent, but then again, he's always diligent where you're concerned. Worshiping you, he'd once said, was an honor he'd always be dying to shoulder, a duty that he was ever anxious to fulfill – after all, a women like you deserved everything he had to give and more. 'Would you get my chest for me too, please, Katsuki...'

Breath hitching, he swallows down excitement until it causes his stomach to bubble. 'Of course...' Letting his hands slide back up your arms, he slips his palms down your chest following the line of your bathing top. He kisses your neck before his hands vanish under your top to cup your chest, your tits rolling perfectly in large hands as he brushes his thumbs across your flesh until he's able to take hold of your nipples and pinch.

You gasp immediately and lurch, your ass pressing back into his cock. 'Kat – Katsuki...'

'Yeah, Princess.' Grinning against your throat, he gropes at you again and earns himself another low moan.

'M – more...'

He smirks and kisses your cheek. 'Anything for you.'

#saturnsoneyeardown

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spicykat9 · 2 years ago

Text

Francis Fucks Arthur Over in More Ways Than One

Rating: E

Pairing: FrUK

Word Count: 2010

Author's Note: I was forced to watch FIFA despite not caring about sports, so I made this.

Francis smirked as he entered the locker room. It was quite a match. What seemed like a quick win at first turned into a bit of a challenge, and Francis wouldn’t have had it any other way, but Francis was the one to come out on top in the end.

Speaking of ‘top’…

Arthur was grumbling to himself as he chucked off his cleats, kicking them halfway across the room in the process. He tore off his jersey and threw it over with his cleats. “Stop staring,” he growled.

“Hello to you too, Angleterre. Good game.”

“Fuck you.”

Francis's smirk grew as they slinked over to Arthur, hands coming to rest just below Arthur’s neck where it met his shoulders. “I think you mean…fuck me,” Francis whispered.

Arthur went slack under the touch.

“I’ll make it worth your while,” Francis purred, massaging the warm skin below his fingertips. “Perhaps even make you happy you lost.”

“You fucking…Mmm…” Arthur’s insults got caught in his throat as Francis worked over his neck. Curse the Frenchman knowing just how he liked to be touched.

“We had a deal, and you know it,” Francis said firmly, squeezing Arthur’s neck a little harder for emphasis.

“Yes, yes, let’s get on with it then.” Arthur probably had meant to come out a lot tougher and indifferent, but it came out soft and breathy.

Francis chuckled deeply. They continued to knead their hands up and down Arthur’s neck “What to do you mon petit lapin first? Should I make him suck me off, or do I give him a nice treat for letting me win?”

“You Arse…Uhn~”

“Shh…sh sh. Just relax and enjoy. We have all night, but I think we should start off nice and slow.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. Leave it to Francis to make love to him instead of aggressively fucking him to assert his dominance as the victor. Times truly had changed. Though honestly…Arthur was kind of looking forward to a rough fuck to blow off steam.

“Don’t look so disappointed mon amour.” Francis let his fingers trail down Arthur’s bare upper arm. “I have all night to blow your back out. Can’t break you too soon now can I?”

Arthur suppressed a shiver. But Francis would have none of that, so he grazed his hand down Arthur’s spine, making him shudder.

Arthur had been so focused on trying to not give Francis any reaction that he hadn’t noticed his partner had joined him on the bench completely naked. “Strip for me,” he whispered against Arthur’s ear before licking just behind it.

“And what if I don’t?”

“Then I’ll just keep kissing and touching you like this until you're hard…but just gentle enough so that you don’t come. After all, we wouldn’t want to get your uniform dirty.”

Arthur grumbled and shimmied out of his shorts purposefully being quick and inelegant about it. Ah…so he was going to be a little brat. Francis’s smirk returned.

They immediately grabbed the now-naked Arthur and pulled him onto their lap. Francis smashed his lips against the Brit hungrily, eagerly licking into his mouth.

Arthur squeaked in surprise, but he quickly relaxed into it, tangling his tongue with Francis, battling for the upper hand.

Francis held the back of Arthur’s neck once more causing the Englishman to completely melt and give Francis easy dominance.

“I hate you,” Arthur panted as they pulled away.

“I love you too,” Francis beamed. His gaze scanned over Arthur’s body. Always so thin and boney, but at least in modern times, he had regained some fat now that he had Francis to feed him properly. But either way, he had always loved Arthur from head to toe. He was the perfect size to hold and cuddle despite all the sharp edges. And of course, he could just get lost in tracing and kissing all the freckles that painted his lover’s body. He began to lick and kiss along the specks.

Francis’s hands trailed up and down Arthur’s sides and back as they explored the rest of his body with their lips. At first, Arthur remained stiff as a board, but with each touch, each kiss, his walls began to crumble and soft gasps emitted from the Brit.

“That’s it…let me hear you,” Francis praised. He moved to Arthur’s chest, tracing along the jagged lines just below Arthur’s nipple.

“F-Francis…mmm…”

Francis grinned before taking one of the nubs in his mouth and sucking. For a moment, they considered using his teeth, ever so slightly, but they reminded themself that this was a punishment meaning he had to be as gentle as possible.

He treated the other nippled just as lovingly, using only his tongue and mouth.

“Christ. I’m not glass!” Arthur exclaimed.

Francis grinned against Arthur’s skin. “I know. But I’m driving you crazy if this…” They tapped the tip of Arthur’s erection lightly. “Is anything to go by.”

Arthur grunted at the touch.

Francis reached beside him and grabbed the lube he had brought. Coating a generous amount on his fingers, he circled Arthur’s hole.

Arthur bit his lip, grinding against Francis involuntarily. “Fucking tease,” The Brit gritted out, nails digging into Francis’s shoulders.

“Always.”

To emphasize his point, Francis inserted one finger suddenly, causing Arthur to yelp. They thrusted the digit in and out slowly, painfully so. Even when they knew they could add a second finger, they took a few extra minutes to just keep thrusting.

A string of curses flew under Arthur’s breath as he rocked back on the finger. “Fuck Francis…”

The Frenchman chuckled lowly as he added another finger, being generous.

“Yes,” Arthur said with a sharp breath. But he immediately realized how shameful he sounded and slapped a hand over his mouth.

“Oh come now mon lapin, you know how much I like to hear you.” Though he would love to tease Arthur with only two fingers, he also wanted to hear Arthur’s beautiful moans.

“Ah~” Arthur groaned as Francis inserted a third finger without warning.

And so Francis began the slow, tedious thrusts in and out, curling his fingers just right to brush against Arthur’s prostate. Arthur arched his back, crying out at the sudden burst of pleasure.

For a moment, as Francis massaged Arthur’s prostate, they considered attempting to make Arthur come from just that. But with every grunt, every moan, Francis became acutely aware of how hard they were. Perhaps they could carry out the prostate idea another time when they were less worked up.

Deeming Arthur stretched enough, he slicked up his cock.

Arthur whined as soon as Francis pulled his fingers out.

“You truly are a greedy little bunny aren’t you?” Francis teased.

“Belt up!”

As Arthur began his complaints and insults once more, Francis pushed him down on the bench and lined himself up with Arthur’s entrance. He thrusted in nice and slow, earning a drawn-out moan from Arthur.

“That’s right…Just like that…” Francis murmured, rubbing his thumb against Arthur’s hip. “You always take me so well.”

Arthur smirked. “Oh yeah well you–” whatever comeback he had planned was cut off by a string of curses as Francis fully entered him.

“So…so good,” Francis rambled as Arthur tightened around him, “Tell me when to move.”

Arthur nodded, taking a few deep breaths as he relaxed. To help, Francis began rubbing up and down Arthur’s neck.

“Okay…Y-You can move,” Arthur breathed out.

Francis wasted no time, pulling in and out in a slow, lazy rhythm. Each thrust drove them deeper, causing Arthur to arch his back.

“Fuck…” Arthur hissed

“You and your dirty mouth.”

“You Bast– Ah~”

Francis continued his steady pace, Arthur clenching harder with each thrust, trying to suck him in deeper. He bucked his hips in time with Francis’s thrust.

Wordlessly, Arthur tried to get the Frenchman to go faster because he would not beg (not without a fight first). He started to roll his hips quickly, or at least as quickly as he could in his position. But Francis, like the annoying bastard they were, pinned Arthur’s hips down.

“Fucking…Arse… Fro–Ahh~ Bastard…”

Francis quirked a brow as if confused, but there was an underlying smugness to it. “Something wrong mon amour?” he asked with feigned innocence.

“You know just what–” Arthur moaned loudly as Francis’s thrusted particularly hard into him, before returning to his slow, gentle pace.

“Hmm…What was that? Use your words, Arthur.

“No,” Arthur growled.

“Ah well,” Francis sighed, “That’s to be expected.” They pull out again, and this time, they pause before entering Arthur again, even slower than before.

Arthur almost screamed, but he bit his lip. He tried to bear it, biting into Francis’s skin, scratching along his back, anything but screaming about how much he wanted to be pounded until the bench broke.

Despite his best efforts, the slow pace became too much. “Harder…” Arthur mumbled into Francis’s bruised skin.

“Quoi?”

“God damn it, Francis! Baise moi plus fort.”

Francis froze for a moment. Their cheeks flushed, looking down into Arthur’s determined eyes. They quickly recovered from the sudden shift in power that had fallen over them. “Since you asked so nicely,” they cooed.

He slowly built his pace up, making Arthur beg more (though reluctantly), but eventually, Arthur was satisfied as Francis pounded into him. He shouted, not caring who heard him, relieved to finally get the railing he had wanted since Francis entered the locker room.

He writhed and arched below Francis, digging into the Frenchman’s back. Leave it to Arthur to mark him up even when on bottom.

“Yes, Yes…AH…There!” Arthur cried as Francis brushed against his prostate.

Francis gave a wild grin. As much as he enjoyed going slow and steady, picking his partner apart lovingly, when Arthur laid bare both in body and soul, honest with his feelings and wants, something stirred within Francis.

They pounded into Arthur until he was crying. From pleasure or pain, Francis wasn’t sure, and frankly, they didn’t care. After all, Arthur always liked pain.

In his fervour, Francis’s hand brushed against Arthur’s achingly hard cock.

“Please…Please…” Arthur begged, voice so soft from all the screaming.

Francis’s gaze softened, coming back to himself from the heat of the moment. He brushed a piece of Arthur’s hair out of his eyes before said hand travelled down Arthur’s cheek, neck, and torso before finally wrapping around his cock.

Arthur gasped and arched his back while Francis began to pump his cock in time with their thrusts. Francis’s thrusts had slowed slightly, but they were still hard enough to push Arthur over the edge.

“Francis…Fucking…” Arthur whined, coming all over Francis’s hand and stomach.

Francis grinned, coming not long after with the way Arthur tightened around him.

“S-So…So good for me,” Francis cooed. They nuzzled Arthur’s cheek as the Brit shook below him, oversensitive in the afterglow. “Shh…you’re okay, just relax. Deep breaths.”

Arthur obeyed, inhaling and exhaling nice and slow until his tremors ceased. His cloudy eyes regained their sharpness. He tapped Francis, signaling for him to pull out.

“So much for starting ‘nice and slow,’” Arthur snickered. He sat back up.

Francis seated himself on Arthur’s lap, cheeks flushed red. “Y-You’re a brute, and… you’re rubbing off on me,” Francis countered.

“Luckily, I enjoyed it.”

Francis rolled his eyes. So much for punishment. Though…As he looked over Arthur, glistening with sweat, a mischievous grin on his face, and his eyes filled with joy and…love. Perhaps there didn’t need to be a “punishment” for Francis to win.

Francis leaned forward, lips just brushing against Arthur’s. “I love you…” they murmured.

Arthur took in a sharp breath, holding it for a moment. “I…I love you too…” He pressed his lips against Francis’s in a quick, but loving kiss.

For a moment, the two just looked at each, nothing else existed in the world. It was Arthur who looked away first. He coughed awkwardly and rose to his feet. He cringed before padding over to the showers. “Join me?” He asked, not even looking back.

Francis smiled. He had totally won, in more ways than one.

Translation: Baise moi plus fort = Fuck me harder

#hetalia #hws #fruk #hws france #hws england #nsft #hetalia ns/fw #hetalia fifa 2022 #fanfiction #hetalia fanfiction #my writing #bottom england #top france

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coldercreation · 2 years ago

Text

Lizzy WIP

(--)

“Oh,” he said, hands settling on Liam’s shoulders, small and effortlessly powerful. “Could scent you earlier a bit, but what’s got you this excited?”

And…

That was when Liam fully noticed the way that heaviness in his body was accompanied by a lowly simmering arousal, the crotch of his trousers stretched tight, his cock pressing insistently against the stiff fabric.

Liam kind of just grinned, slowly, a bit sheepish, a bit lopsided.

“Didn’t really notice, to be honest.” Liam had to clear his throat to get the words out, his voice crackly and rough. “Before- before you mentioned it.”

Isac looked at him quizzically, but then just huffed out another laugh. “Was your alpha feeling good, hm? Well pleased with a pretty O at your feet?”

That…

Uh.

Probably yes?

Was that appropriate to- to admit, though?

“Was comfy…” Liam said honestly, voice rather small. He was feeling a little too… raw? Exposed? But- but in a good way.

“Yeah?” Isac shifted closer on Liam’s thighs, his arms wrapping behind his neck, legs spreading further to accommodate Liam’s. “Does pup often get all hard just from feeling comfy? Because that’s adorable.” Isac leaned down then, like he wasn’t making Liam’s head spin with his bold words. His lips pressed hotly against Liam’s ear, “Or did staring at my arse for twenty minutes maybe help a little bit?” (--)

Here's a lil sneak peak from a Lizzy snippet (WIP) I wrote a while back! I'm currently not actively working on this as I'm focusing on the other story, but here we go anyway! This one takes place when Kit and Liam have only just started seeing Izzy, and Limo is feeling all sorts of young and starry eyed and Iz obviously loves the attention lmao xx

#I'm pretty sure I haven't posted this one yet #oh well #I'm pretty busy this week so I'm not sure if I'll have time to write that much #so I wanted to post a lil something something #just a little treato #so I'm not neglecting you lovely peoples<3 #LIZZY #WIP

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fandom-puff · 4 years ago

Text

All Day Long

Relationship: Remus x Sirius x Reader (marauders era)

Requested by: anon

‘RemusxReaderxSirius set during their time at hogwarts where they both tease her during the whole day until shes begging them to ruin her?’

Notes: this is only the second time I’ve written remus x reader x Sirius so hope you enjoy!

Warnings: threesome (in an established polyamorous relationship) teasing, edging, use of toys, choking, Dom/sub dynamic (including degradation), double penetration, swearing.

****

Smiling to yourself, you waited in the entrance hall for your boys, all bundled up and ready for hogsmeade, dressed in one of Sirius’s quidditch jerseys and Remus’s scarf. Once you caught sight of them, you hurried over, easily slotting yourself in the middle of them. “Ready to go?” You asked brightly, but Sirius grabbed hold over your elbow, leaning down.

“Before we get going, Remus and I have some rules for you, okay, pup?” You bit your lip, only just clicking onto the dark look in Sirius’s eyes, nodding quickly.

“You’re not to come until we say so, and that will be when we’re back at the castle,” Remus murmured and you nodded again. “Verbal answers, darling,”

“I’m okay with that,” you said softly, eyes flicking between them both.

“Good girl. We will of course, be making it a bit trickier for you, but I’m sure you’ll manage,” Sirius said, before clapping his hands together. “Right then my lovelies, I do believe we need to make a quick visit to Zonko’s,”

***

This was a bad idea. When Sirius said they’d make it ‘a bit trickier’, what he really meant was they’d make it ‘a lot trickier’- damn near impossible. It all started out relatively moderate, with Sirius just resting his hand on your bum while he looked at the displays, giving it the occasional squeeze or pat which went unnoticed by the bustling crowds.

Then Remus flicked his wand and muttered something under his breath and-

You gasped aloud, quickly covering your noise with a gasp. Remus had clearly been practicing his vanishing charms- a vibrator had appeared in your underwear, already in position with part of it inside you, the other part on your clit. He must’ve been hiding it in his pocket, waiting for the right moment. To your relief, the toy didn’t start buzzing straight away, but the knowledge that it was there (and completely out of your control) turned you on. Composing yourself, you waited for Sirius to pay, before the boys guided you to Honeydukes.

As you were browsing the newest range of sweets, remus flicked his wand again, and the toy began buzzing ever so gently, not nearly enough to stimulate you properly, but enough to get you considerably more riled up. You glared at him over your shoulder as you picked out your sweets, before taking them to the till. Just as the lady asked how your day had been, remus changed the setting of the vibe, to a strong pulsing sensation as you hurriedly gave your answer, your knees trembling. The woman talked and talked as she bagged your items and Remus only increased the settings more, smirking with Sirius as he watched you try to remain upright. When the woman finally handed you your purchases, you stumbled over to your boys, biting your lip hard.

“Please,” you whispered desperately. “I’m so close,”

Sirius grinned and steered you out of the shop, an arm around your waist as you stumbled. “That right, pup? Gonna cum from a toy in your knickers, eh?”

You nodded quickly, gripping his hand until... the vibe switched off completely. You looked up to remus now, who was smirking and tutting. “Remember thd rules darling?” He said, almost condescendingly, before leaning down to kiss your cheek. As he pulled away, he muttered “we will not allow you to cum in the middle of the street like a little slut,”

You squeaked in response and nodded before slipping each of your hands into one of theirs. “Do you want to go home, sweetheart?” Remus said gently after a brief bit of wondering- through which he and Sirius had took turns controlling the vibe, bringing you to the edge and dragging you away every few minutes.

“Yes please,” you mumbled, nodding eagerly and looking up at both of them pleasingly. “Please can we go back,”

“Awww, what’s wrong, pet, are you desperate for us? Desperate for us to completely ruin your sweet cunt?” You shivered at Sirius’s crass words but nodded nonetheless, and the three of you began a rather hurried walk back to the castle.

***

Door firmly locked to avoid any unwanted visitors (unlikely, as James, lily and Peter were still in honeydukes while you had been walking back), you were being showered in kisses, pinned against the wall by Sirius as remus transfigured his bed to be a little wider to fit all three of you. When he was finally, finally done, Sirius pulled you over, and you eagerly tossed your coat and scarf aside before remus came up behind you, pressed firmly against your back, grinding his stiff cock against your arse as he switched the vibe on. Sirius grinned, tossing your jumper aside and magicking your jeans away- it seemed he too was getting rather impatient. Remus smirked, unclasping and discarding your bra, until you were bare (save for your knickers as they were holding the toy in place) before them.

“Fuck, princess, you look so good,” remus breathed, kissing your shoulder as your hips rocked in thin air. You whimpered, grabbing at Sirius, who had been gently stroking and pinching your nipples. He smirked slightly.

“What’re you after pup?” He smirked and your eyelids fluttered.

“Your mouth, please, Sirius, on my tits, please,” you begged, pushing your chest out to him and your bum back into remus. Sirius happily complied, suckling gently on one nipple, continuing to fondle the other with his hand. Remus groaned lowly, feeling you squirm back against his cock, and he grunted, trailing his hand up to your throat. You whimpered softly, tipping your head back and resting it against remus’s shoulder. Just as he applied pressure, he flicked his wand, putting the toy on the maximum setting. You keened, the sound a little broken due to the hand around your throat, your eyes wide. “Please!” You whined. “Please, I’m so close, let me cum, remus, please Sirius, please!” You babbled, unable to stop your wriggling hips and trembling thighs.

Sirius released your nipple with a pop and looked over your shoulder at remus, smirking. “I don’t know... what D’you reckon, Moony?” He smirked, and you whimpered, whole body shaking with effort.

“Don’t be cruel, Pads,” remus grinned, holding you up. “I think our girl deserves to come, don’t you? She has behaved exceptionally well, given the circumstances,”

You moaned softly. Pair of utter bastards, dragging this out as long as they could. You dug your nails into Sirius’s arm, whimpering pathetically. Sirius hummed. “Fine. Cum for us, pup,”

He didn’t need to tell you twice. Shaking, screaming and writhing like mad, you came, your hips bucking wildly, hands scrambling to hold onto them both as Remus held you up from behind and Sirius held the toy in place in case you dislodged it.

Moaning lowly, you reached your hand down, the buzzing toy becoming too much. Sirius grinned and removed your knickers and the toy, holding it up to show you as remus pulled you into his lap, shushing you gently. “Look at that, Moons,” Sirius grinned. “Look how wet she made this. Look at the mess you left all over this, puppy,” you whined at his teasing and hid your face in remus’s shoulder. Sirius smiled and came closer.

“We’re both very proud of you, babygirl, you followed the rules so well,” you nodded in response, biting your lip hard. Despite having jusg come, you wanted more, much more, and wriggled your hips absentmindedly, grinding on remus’s cock, while staring at the considerable bulge in Sirius’s jeans.

“What’s up, darling?” Remus cooed. You mumbled into his neck but he lifted your chin. “Use your words,” he instructed and you gulped.

“I-I want your cocks,” you said, trying not to hide your face. “T-together. At the same time,”

Sirius and Remus locked eyes for a moment, both of them inhaling sharply as they felt something primal deep inside. “Do you want one of us in your sweet little cunt, princess?” Remus murmured in your ear.

“And the other in your tight little arse?” Sirius smirked, already reaching for his wand. You gulped and nodded quickly.

“Yes please,” you said eagerly, already scrambling to kneel up. Remus laughed gently.

“Steady on love. C’mere,” he beckoned you to lie on your side, crooking his finger at Sirius to lie facing you.

“Sirius is going to fuck your pussy, aren’t you, Sirius,”

“Hmm,” Sirius grinned, very thankful that magic made undressing so much quicker. You bit your lip hard and palmed his cock as you reached up for a gentle kiss. Sirius soon knocked your hand away, guiding his cock into your dripping cunt. You let out a long, low moan at the feeling of being adequately filled after a day of being on edge.

“There’s a Good pup,” Sirius grunted, grasping your thigh and slinging it over his hip, pulling you closer and fucking you deeper. You let out a whimper, burying your face in his chest as you rocked your hips.

Remus smirked at his two lovers trying (and failing) to hold back. He cleared his throat, pushing your hair out of the way so he could kiss the back of your neck. “I’m going to use a spell to prep your little arsehole, darling,” he murmured into your ear and you nodded eagerly, moaning ‘please’. Remus mumbled something and you squirmed, tensing up and making Sirius groan slightly. Your arse was sufficiently lubed up and, as remus rolled a condom on and pressed the blunt head of his cock to your hole, adequately stretched. He hissed as you clenched slightly, before pushing back against him, taking more and more of him until his was fully inside you.

Both of your boys stopped for a moment, letting you squirm and adjust and get comfortable once more, before you looked up at them frantically. “Please move!” You begged, trying to push back into Remus and forward into Sirius to urge them to move.

“You want us to fuck you, pup?” Sirius groaned. “Want us to pound your holes until you scream?” You nodded desperately, wriggling, squirming.

“Good girl,” remus groaned, grasping onto your hip as he began a slow steady pace. It was a heavy contrast from the brutal rate at which Sirius was fucking your pussy, and your head swam with the sensation. You were just so damn full and you were loving every second of it, a garbled, barely coherent mix of names and curses and praises spilling from your mouth.

Remus grunted and reached over you, pulling on Sirius’s hair, smirking as he growled. “Fucking hell,” Sirius groaned, his eyes rolling back. “So tight, puppy, can feel you squeezing mine and Remus’s cocks,” he praised you and you whined out.

“Please more, please, faster, please!” You whined, arching your back. Sirius and Remus nodded at one another before stopping briefly. You were about to complain, but they began thrusting into you, in sync. While previously they had alternated, reducing you to a whimpering mess, this change of pace had you screaming in ecstasy, the double penetration nigh on doubling your pleasure. “Gonna come!” You moaned out, every muscle in your body tensing before the band snapped and you shattered, coming with lustful cries of their names. Remus groaned, tipping his head back, cock twitching inside of you as he came, and Sirius followed soon after with a shout.

Limp, spent and almost asleep, you withered, trembling with the aftershocks. Groaning, Sirius kissed you hard, praising you, before remus tilted your head for an equally passionate kiss. “Was amazin’” you slurred, well and truly worn out. Remus laughed softly, using magic to clean you all off, summoning a goblet and filling it with water.

“Drink, both of you,” he ordered gently, and you were both happy to comply, as once you had finished, Sirius tugged the blanket over you all, snuggling under the covers with you. You turned to nuzzle into Remus��s chest as Sirius did the same to your back, his arms coming around your waist. You smiled softly as you all exchanged mumbled ‘I love you’s, slipping off into a much needed sleep.

Tags: @a-hopeless-fan @lotsoffandomrecs @rai-strangebr @zodiyack @haphazardhufflepuff @dumbfuckinslytherin @severuslovebot @darkthought15 @rabeccablake @sambucky8 @eleven-times-lively @talksoprettyjjx @extra-trash77 @rangerelik @Dracosbbygorl @wonderwoman292 @lilymurphy03 @fredweasleyisntdead @fredswh0re @rogertaylorismycar @meaganjm @fanficwriter5 @shadesofbarryallen @kiwi-sloan @bbeauttyybbx @inglourious-imagines @bonniesgoldengirl @trumpsgorillagrip @blisshemmings @little-bit-of-randomness @vsarzx @eunoia-kth @liliputbahn @thestunningspell @beiahadid @courtnytrash04 @ccosmic-illusion @purpleskymalfoy @marshxx @hogwartslut @thatslovelymoony @winchestergirl333 @sterwild

#remus x reader x sirius #wolfstar x reader #remus lupin x reader smut #Remus Lupin x Sirius black #remus lupin x reader x sirius #sirius black x reader smut #sirius black smut #harry potter #hp #request #harry potter imagine #wolfstar #wolfstar smut #2021

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swtki · 4 years ago

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Anonymous said:

Heyy! Can you do a Cedricxfem!reader smut? Where the reader get stood up at the Yule ball and Cedric heart breaks since he has been in love with the reader for quite some time. And then they do the nasty you know thank you

A/N: Okay so basically...I am a stupid fucking Cedric simp,,,,and since I got home today, and my course work is fairly light for this week (no promises) my requests are open and I will try to get as much out as I can this week before my birthday! Jan 24th and you will get an about me post. ALSO, thanks for 700 (now 710 no brag) followers! I love you guys! Ok onto the fic!.

moodboard

WARNINGS: SMUT, 18+ CONTENT, SAPPY CEDRIC, BAD WORDS OH GOD OH FUCK

(Y/N) stood in front of her full length mirror in her dormitory room, admiring the fabric hugging her hips. Very rarely did she ever get to see herself like this, never mind other people. Her hand reached up to move a stray strand of hair back into place, a minor detail that although she doubt mattered, she could not refrain from. It was the night of the Yule ball, a night that the girls in her year wanted perfection more than ever, (Y/n) not excluded.

It would not be unheard of, however it would be rather embarrassing to show up un-courted. Nobody to dance with, nobody to share a moment in the moonlight with. That’s why when Miles Dane asked her to the ball, she did not hesitate to say yes.

To be quite honest, the two seventh years had never really talked. Though, they did have potions together. Surely, she would get to know him while sharing a dance, and she had to admit that he was quite charming and handsome. A tall Ravenclaw boy, lankly in the most perfect way, his skin a medium tone that glowed in the sunlight, so the carriages weren’t out of the question either.

The clock on the wall read six fifty, there was no sign of Miles, only (Y/N) and her twiddling thumbs. She wanted to scream, to cry, to hurt him even, but above all, she wanted to believe he was coming. Everything was going to be perfect. It should all be perfect.

Inside the hall, Cedric Diggory, the Golden Boy of Hogwarts, was pretending to be interested. The mundane conversation between Cho, his date who he now was sure didn’t even remember who she came with, and another seventh year girl droned on. Despite the banging of the loud music into his ear, Cedrics head was silent. Bored. Without saying anything, he slipped away from the table, creeping into the corridor for a breath of fresh air.

The cold December air hit Cedrics face with a refreshing feeling, the pressures of being a Tri-Wizard champion melted off of his shoulders. Though, he didn’t like to admit it, he sometimes questioned if this path was right for him. Would it have been better if he had stayed put, never scratched his name upon the parchment? He knew that he couldn’t change the past, no matter how much he wanted to. Cedrics tall, lean body slumped against the stone wall. All was quiet around him, a welcomed environment. Then, he heard the faintest gasp, causing the hairs on his neck to stand up.

“Fuck,” (Y/N) sighed out, wiping the small bead of sorrow that had escaped from her eye. She knew Miles was not coming. A dark figure leaning over her crouched body interrupted her racing mind. Instinctually, she looked up from her knees.

“(Y/N), what’s wrong?” Cedric said in a soft voice.

“Nothing..nothing is wrong Diggory.” She avoided eye contact. Cedric and (Y/N) had been friends in years prior, particularly in third year. But as time drew on, their paths separated, effectively making them strangers to one another. He had gone on to be a hearthrob who was wanted by every girl, while she had focused on her studies and the go-to for casual sex.

“You know, we may not have sat together for three years, but don’t you think I can tell when you’re lying?” He squatted on the cement next to her, becoming eye level. “Now, what are you doing out here? You look so gorgeous, I’m sure your bloke in there is missing you.” His hand gestured behind him to the large archway leaking a bright tune.

“Yeah, thats the thing,” she drew a sharp breath in, tilting her head up, “My bloke never fucking showed up. Look at me, all dressed up and no one to dance with.” Her eyes closed, painting a small smile in an attempt to conceal her pain.

“Oh...I see.” Cedric stood up and offered his hand to the girl below him. “Well, let me fix that for you.” She rolled her eyes, but happily accepted.

Opting to stay where they were, the two swayed in each others arms. The warmth of Cedrics arms comforted the girl, soothing her in a way Cedric had not soothed her in years.

“Didn’t you come with a date?” she asked, her head on his chest.

“Yeah, shes inside. She lost interest with me I’m afraid.” Cedric made a small chuckle that made her bite her lip. “You know...I’ve heard about your reputation. I’m a little surprised, I thought you would always hate boys. Cooties was it?” He teased, resting his chin on her head.

“Oh fuck off. For the record, I did like boys. I liked you, Cedric. I still do.” He pulled away from her figure slightly, his eyes searching over her face. Then without any hesitation, he collided his lips to hers.

Shocked at first, she froze. But within a second, her hands were cradling his face. The kiss was deep, full of years worth of emotion. His grip tightened on her waist. Time stood still for the pair, it felt like hours before Cedric pulled away.

“Do you want to go to my dorm?” He said, panting.

“Won’t people notice if you run off?? You’re like a celebrity around here, Ced.” She grinned up at him. Cedrics face took a more serious appearance, but his manor became relaxed.

“Fuck ‘em.” His large hand grasped hers, leading the way to his dormitory.

(Y/N) sat on the soft mattress, her body stiff and unsure. Cedric fumbled around, locking the door, playing suave. He stood a mere three feet from her, wondering how he got so lucky.

“Did you want to just chat because...Cedric, I can do far more than chat with you.” She gave him a seductive look, making the boy swallow hard.

“Well I... I mean trust me, the way you look sitting on my bed is amazing, and I’m all for it. But the question is, are you - I mean do you want to? With me?” A rose blush creeped upon the Hufflepuff boys face, making (Y/N) giggle.

“Come here, Ced.” She beckoned him over to her with her finger. He happily obliged, walking over to sit next to her. But before he could sit, she put a hand on his chest, stopping him in his place. “Stand...I want you to stand while I sit. Is it okay if I..?” she gestured to the growing errection inside his trousers.

“Fuck...please darling.” She bit her lip and started undoing his pants, enjoying the sight before her eyes. She stroked his cock, admiring the way his eyes scrunched up when she ran her thumb over the tip. Smiling, she leaned over and put it in her mouth. His soft moans filled the room as he ran his slender fingers through her soft hair. All of the sudden, he yanked her off, pushing her on her back.

“My turn, love.” Cedrics mouth started leaving sloppy kisses around her mouth, trailing down to her neck while his left hand massaged her tit over her dress. Her elbows pressed into the bed, pushing her up.

“Wait, lets get these off, yeah?” Cedric kissed her, then unzipped her dress, fumbling to strip himself as quickly as he could. Once she was left in just her knickers, he continued where he had left off. He traveled until he got to her covered pussy, looking up at her to see if he could continue. She nodded, her eyes filled with need.

Cedrics left hand pushed apart her legs, letting him get a proper look at how she felt about him. His other hand yanked off her knickers, little did Y/N know how mental simple white cotton undies made Cedric. Without hesitation, his mouth started attacking her sensitive clit. The pleasure was unlike anything she had ever felt with her previous fucks, because this pleasure was dedicated with love. Her eyes rolled back into her head, a wanton moan escaping from her throat. This encouraged him to suck on her clit, and then to Y/Ns delight, inserted two fingers. Filthy moans filled the room as her cunt felt so pleasured in a way she had never felt.

“Fuck thats so fucking...oh my god Ced.” He moved his fingers at a faster speed, attacking her clit simultaneously. Eyes rolling back into her head, a pure groan of pleasure filled Cedrics ears as she bucked her hips, reaching a climax unlike any other.

Cedric stood, climbed on the bed, then looked at her.

“Do you want to..keep going or?” He ran his thumb over her lips.

“yes but..I wanna be on top” His heart beat faster, his erection becoming somehow even harder. He laid down on his bed, allowing her to swing a leg over his hips. Y/N grabbed his member and ran it through her folds, watching as his face contorted in pleasure. Then she sunk her body onto his, both of them in seventh heaven.

Her hips started rocking against his, making his cock hit all the right parts inside her. Cedric was in love with the sight before him, his eyes looking at her like she was a goddess. Her hand reached down, rubbing her clit, maximizing her pleasure. It wasn't long until her next orgasm washed over her, making Cedric even more eager to put himself to use. When she was back off her high, he brought her down to him, chest to chest. Thrusting up into her was the best feeling he could have imagined, it went on for minutes, both of them feeling amazing.

Y/N leaned over into his ear to whisper,

“Please cum inside me, Ced. Please, I want you to use me and leave my body stained with your cum.” Cedric, finding out that now he had a thing for cumming inside her, sped up. His hips clashed with her arse as his climax grew closer and closer.

Cedrics eyes rolled into his head, his body releasing his cum into hers. His legs shook a bit, he had just had the best orgasm he had ever had. The girl on top of him rolled over, now laying beside him. Both of them sat in silence, trying to catch their breath.

“I love you so fucking much, Y/N”

#cedric x reader #cedric diggory #cedric diggory x reader smut #cedric diggory x reader #cedric diggory smut #robert pattinson smut #Harry Potter Smut #harry potter x reader smut #harry potter imagines #harry potter imagine #draco malfoy smut #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x reader smut #draco mallfoy imagines #draco mallfoy x reader

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muffindaddystyles · 4 years ago

Text

Hershey Fucker.

Author's Note; here lies the great memory of long hair Harry. Long gone but never forgotten. A smut to make you clench your legs together, *laughs in evil*. Don't forget to gimme some love :(

Kaleidoscopic lights flares around you as you stirred the straw of your margarita dodging the glunk of strawberry. Your eyes anchored at the spindiling lean figure of the emerald eyed monster, jaw tight that of greek god, umber spiral of curls kissing the sharply cuts of his face and it glows as if he has used your highlighter.

You scoff when he puckers his lips around the rim of whiskey giving a fist bump in praise.

It's been going on from the time you stepped inside the club. He's being a pain in arse. Having none of shame giving a harsh squeeze to your butt while leading you, leaning close to whisper words straight outta dirty erotica, throwing you his signature cocky smirks and brush of noses while he adjusted his daddy long legs nudging them in between your knees as you both sat on the high-stools of the bar.

You shake your head in exasperation smiling to yourself when he caught the wrist of bartender pointing at it with slurred eyes and bubbly lips, "nice tat, lad. looks sexy on ya." You know he's trying to make you jealous on purpose and it's quite endearing to see him try.

It makes your pussy weep, in all honesty. The fact that he's flirtatious in nature and when he speaks it feels like roses are falling from his lips would never fail to make you find him more ethereal. He owns that kinky charisma.

He kept on side glancing you while doing his antiques. Chatting with the bartender and complementing him with a lopsided grin, taking your hand for agreement because he's that annoying.

You practically lunges over him straddling his knee to brush your crimson coated lips agaisnt his earlobe while you whisper.

"Wanna go home." He furrows his brows together clearing his throat and gesturing you with his sparkling daunting gaze ','s that so?' when you sit back leaving a satisfied red smudgnes at his earlobe and higher jaw. You bob your head patting his knees and before your hands could sneak any higher he grabbed them, chugging the last of his whiskey and ruffling his wild tresses back to stand both of you on feet.

"Hmm. Was 'avin', fun weren't ye'?" He asks looping his forearms around your front protectively and keeping you close to him while making an exit from the crowd.

"Ehm. dunno, hot bartender." He scrunches his nose at this pinching your hip-bone rasping out in his thick chapel's accent.

"Thought ye'r same thought, babe." You cackle at this loudly gasping audibly when the cold zephyr of London enveloped you. He immediately kisses your head stroking his thumb against the nape of your neck.

"'Ere lemme be ye'r personal heater." He cacoons the warm coat he's wearing around your body pulling you to his chest, his exposed pecks coming in contact with your own bare shoulders making both of you hiss. "Better hurry up, wan' to get wrapped 'round your warmth." You laugh at his chaotic humour hitting him with elbow.

On reaching the car that's parked at the very end of parking lot you spin in his hold gazing deep into his jade and he sucks his bottom lip inside his mouth when you grab his face, squishing his blushed chill cheeks in process.

You part your lips infront of him glazing your wet tongue all over your plump lips to give him a little show before pulling him closer to smear them against his stiff ones, you kiss him sloppily letting your saliva drool around the corners of his lips lapping onto his tongue messily.

"Mhmp. Ye' know your sloppiness turn meh on s' bad." He grunts with fog huffing out sliding his large palm under your thigh to grope your ass and haul your leg around his waist as you lean over the bonnet of car. He glides his thumb from your decolletage to the hilt of your chin tilting it to deepen the already erotic kiss, tasting the insides of your cheeks.

He captures your bottom lip in between his bunny teeth pulling it with floppy sound. He looks down upon you with lust blow irirses wide spreading his legs to straddle your bare thighs and to rub his knee against your soaked centre.

"Meh filthy girl's jealous t' 'er fuckin' core, innit?" You shake your head left and right in utter innocence. He laughs at your effort. Degradingly, intimidatingly rough from his chest that prominents your heavy breathing and a soapy patch of arousal in your thong.

"Now lyin' t' meh aren't ya, bunny." He smirks with stern brows tapping your chin and your dainty squeak traps in your lungs when he yanks you off the bonnet against the door side of the car squeezing between the two cars for less visibility of the dirty things they're about to do.

He kisses the dip where your shoulder meets your neck trailing his parted lips between your breasts tweaking your nipples harshly from the flimsy cloth, "not jealous, right?" He mumbles grazing his teeth against your jawline pecking the corner of your lips.

"No." You choke out slip shutting your eyes and letting your head fall against the window as he thrusts the buldge of his thick hard cock in his pants against your cunt, one hand gripping your hip with bruising force you love other around your throat.

"Not even if I'll be...on me knees fo' him? He heaves out flushing your sweaty chests together and your eyes rolls to your skull with his pressure building on your throat, you grind against him with moans of ecastasy him perfectly rubbing up and down between your weepy pussy lips.

He smirks in victory knowing it's warming you up so he continues in slurred seductiveness, "no' when I'll beg fo' his cock in me mouth? fo' him to deep throat meh, t' fuck me mouth?" You whimper. Shivering hands reaching for him, instead of grabbing them as he usually do with gentleness he wrapped his one palm around your wrists locking them atop your head roughly.

He slaps your pussy and you ducked forward crying out with pleasure into his chest. He tugs at your thong ripping it to shreds and stuffing it to his pocket, "when I'll spread me legs fo' him...." His hard on poking against your stomach as he toyed with your clit. He swipes the tip of his fingers up and down circling it around your weeping hole collecting your moisturizer and snaking it up past your mound and tummy to nipples wetting them. Actually, making a complete mess of you.

"Harry..." You whine raising your hips and he spanks your thigh tapping your chin to open up stuffing his fingers into your mouth, "shut up and suck." You swirls your tongue around his slender digits; a string of saliva attached with your lips as he pulled them out.

"Tell meh ye're jealous, 'n I'll give ye'r tight pussy meh fingers." He pinches your clitoris flickering it into rapid motions, "wh-why should i? when m' not." you spurts out. Tears in your eyes as he eggs you on removing his fingers the moment you were about to soak his digits.

He tuts pushing his dick hard against you, "ye' wouldn't if he'd fuck meh in arse again 'n again, if he'd take me in his mouth 'n play with meh balls like yeh do?" He asks in a low voice looking down in between himself and you, the sight makes him growl as he gave a minute to your imaginations to run wild.

"Ah..ah–daddy, please." You're thrashing in his arms but he doesn't give much attention to it spitting on your cunt and fondling with your sensitive nerves. Harry's a prick that gets what he wants even when you're dripping down your legs for him.

"Answer meh, Y/N! Wouldn't ask again." He grits with a threatening voice and you bobbed your head vigorously. "Use ye'r words." He hovers his middle finger over your entrance.

"Course, I will." He pecks your lips with satisfied grin shoving his middle finger knuckles deep inside your sloppy pussy without any warning causing you to go feral that he had to hold you in one place, "warm like always." He grunts slipping it in and out joining another. Curling it against your spongy walls to quench out moans and whimpers from you.

He digs his teeth inside the flesh of your shoulder and you coiled your arms around him tightly, "oh my god, fuck. fuck. fuck." Your shouts muffles against him as he continuously massaged your g-spot, siscorsing his fingers to fuck you raw with them. He cups his calloused palm and rubs the heel of it against your swollen clit.

"Tell daddy how ye' feel." You kneaded your breasts stuttering with difficulty, "'s good daddy but wan' your cock, inside me." He thwacks your bum groping it and roughly slamming his fingers inside you his metal cold rings brushing against your sticky pussy lips.

"Don't like it when yeh act greedy." You ignore his sharp tone sensing your orgasm build in your tummy and spreading like a wildfire to your bones.

"'cum–m'. May..I come, daddy? Please." You rocked on his hand using his shoulders for leverage, "cum like a sweet good girl yeh are." He says kissing you slowly and you tugged at the lapels of his coat cumming hard on his fingers coating it with your thick cum.

He hugged you swaying you feet to feet one hand still pushing inside you with brutal pace to take every drop from you. His wrist glistening with your cum and wetness in an instant his mood switching, "backseat, spread your legs. I wan' your pussy ready fo' me."

MASTERLIST.

#harry styles smut #harry styles #harry styles blurb #fluff #harry angst #daddy harry #dom harry #harr styles one shot #harry styles dirty one shot #harry smut #harry styles fanfiction #hsh #harry styles imagine #cute harry #dirty harry styles imagines

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penguinwithitsarseonfire · 4 years ago

Text

Now That I Saw You, I Can Never Look Away

Pairing: Tenth Doctor x Reader* - Female Reader

Word Count: 4,010

Warnings: Mention of smoking

Summary: The Doctor takes you to Truman Capote’s infamous Black and White party. The revelation of feelings ensue

Request: Hi!! I love your writing!! The sunset fic with 10??? *chefs kiss* anyways, I was wondering if you could do a romantic 10 x reader where they’re in the 60’s/70’s (maybe at a party?) and they slow dance to Can’t Keep my Eyes Off You by Frankie Vallie? I don’t care if they’re already dating or they confess feelings or whatever, but i love some fluff!! Thanks sm!!!

A/N: I know the song didn't technically come out until the year after the party, but we're going to ignore that because the song is perfect for this party and it's a shame that history missed out on it. Also I'm sorry, but as soon as my disastrous bisexual arse realised I could include Tallulah Bankhead,, I um,, I did.

You frowned at your eyeliner stick, eyeing it, then your phone. You thought you had found a good tutorial, up until this point it had been extremely thorough, and your make up was looking really good.

But the eyeliner.

See, you had thought, what, with going to the 1960’s, that it would be the perfect time to try out a Twiggy inspired look. Especially since she was all the rage in 1966, which was when you were going, according to the Doctor.

So you sat there, in a white and black checked gown – which gave you intense Hairspray vibes, glaring at your half done eyes, and watching, in vain, as the youtuber applied the eyeliner effortlessly.

There was a knock on the door and you paused the video.

“Yeah,” you called out. “You can come in.”

The Doctor opened the door, and you saw, with some surprise, that he had changed – which wasn’t something he did often. He looked… dashing. He was wearing a black suit, complete with a crooked bowtie, and was holding a pair of matching masks. One black, and one white.

The goofy grin he had been wearing fell as he looked at you, and he paused in the threshold, blinking like he had something in his eyes.

“Is everything okay?” You asked, and you toyed with the eyeliner in your hands. You felt off. It was as though the Doctor was upset, like he didn’t like what you were wearing, or how you looked.

“Huh?’ He twiddled with the masks in his hands, and then seemed to realise he was just standing in the hallway. He grinned again. “Oh yes, of course!”

You patted your hair, marvelling in how stiff it felt with all the hairspray. You frowned at your reflection, still thinking about the eyeliner. “I know I look ridiculous-”

“No you don’t,” the Doctor said. He gestured up and down your person. “You just look… you look wonderful, Y/N.”

You gave him a small smile, not quite believing it, but choosing not to argue either. He didn’t sound convinced of it himself, and he massaged the back of his neck with his free hand.

You nodded towards the masks. “Why’re we needing those?”

His grin grew. “Ah well, we’ve got to wear masks,” his eyes sparkled. “It’s the rules.”

You raised an eyebrow. The Doctor had told you earlier that black and white balls had been common in the 60’s, ‘more common than civil war re-enactments,’ he had said, which was a lot to unpack in its own right.

But masks?

“Truman Capote,” he sounded out each syllable, exaggerating the name. “Holds one of the most famous parties of the 1960’s, his black and white masked ball,” he tossed you the white mask. “Which is where we’re going.”

You gaped, catching the mask and inspecting it carefully. It was plain, but beautiful, with intricate patterns of rhinestone and feathered in lace. “Didn’t that party have basically everyone who was important ever?” You asked, thinking back to your history lessons in high school, and the information you had gotten from the Youtube tutorial.

The Doctor grinned at you, and snapped on his mask. You noticed it matched yours. “Yup. Just think,” he came into the room now, talking animatedly as he did so. “The likes of Lynda Bird Johnson, the Italian princess Luciana Pignatelli, Frank Sinatra, and Babe Paley – all in one room!”

You were giddy. “And we’re going?”

He stuck out his arm. “Y/N L/Y/N, we are most certainly going to the ball.”

You laughed and took his arm, your worries with the eyeliner completely forgotten.

The Doctor had parked inside the foyer, which meant you stumbled upon a queue of people waiting to get inside. The foyer was lavish. The walls were adorned in a collection of slik scarves , black and white, complimenting the clothing everyone wore. From the grand high ceilings hung glittering crystal chandeliers, which sparkled above you

In front of you were two people, a woman in a white dress, it’s shape not dissimilar from yours, and a man wearing a black suit. They turned to you and said hello, and you saw they were wearing the strangest cat masks, each the same colour as their outfits.

The man introduced himself as ‘Oscar,’ whilst the woman, his wife, introduced herself as ‘Annette.’

The Doctor had a giddy grin as he shook their hands. “Oh it’s marvellous to meet you,” he said. “I absolutely love your work.”

The man grinned, which was disorientating with a cat face. “That’s very kind of you.”

They turned back as a doorman ushered them forward, and you realised they were being announced, that everyone was in this queue to be announced.

They must have been important then, to be announced like that.

The Doctor elbowed you lightly. “That’s Oscar de la Renta,” he said with an air of excitement.

You knew the name, but for the life of you, the reason why had escaped you. You gestured to the Doctor to elaborate.

“He dressed Jackie Kennedy,” he said. “Hugely successful fashion designer, kickstarted half of the 60’s fashion movement.”

You gasped. Oh – okay, so he was very, very much important.

You felt clammy in your dress. You weren’t important enough for this, to be here. They were going to announce you, to introduce you to everyone else inside.

The Doctor jiggled your arms, the ones that were still looped together, and your nerves subsided. He was like a kid in a candy store, his eye alight with enthusiasm. You took his lead, choosing to be excited too.

Because this was exciting.

You had a clear view of the party sprawled out below you when you reached the usher. If you had thought the foyer was lavish, well, there was really no way to describe the actual party.

It was just… so full of life.

There were people dancing, locked in arms and spinning around the room. On the outside were tables draped in red tablecloths and filled with black and white food, and you could have sworn you saw Frank Sinatra in eager conversation with another person. The music was brilliant. An orchestra was situated on a dazzling stage, where the same silver, black, and white curtains from the foyer hung. Candles sat everywhere, lighting the room in a warm glow that flickered and danced with the people, and, hanging from those tall, amazing ceilings, were silver balloons, fashioned together like chandeliers.

It was amazing.

The Doctor nudged you and you realised he had been talking to the usher, who, in turn, was inspecting the Doctor’s psychic paper. “Put on your mask,” the Doctor said. “I reckon Paul here is going to announce us.”

You fished for your mask, which you had been holding in the hand that had been looped in with the Doctors. You untangled yourself from him, and snapped it on. It fit snugly, and you were glad that it wasn’t the sort to have an elastic wrap around your hair, you were sure something like that would damage it.

The usher – Paul, nodded to you both, and you swore you saw him smile a bit. “The Doctor and his companion, the Lady Y/N Y/L/N.”

Lady?

You looked down to your gown. Well, you supposed it was quite elegant.

The Doctor took you around the room. He pointed out specific people, diplomats, journalists, actors and artists. It was such a chaotic blend of people, all squished together because they were New York’s elite. You felt so oddly removed, it was so awkward, so strange, to be seeing people who you had only ever seen in photographs, walking around, living and breathing, like the actual people they were.

Despite that though, the atmosphere was lose, and the energy was warm. You felt like you belonged, like you didn’t stick out like a sore thumb. There was something strangely democratic in this event, something photos and articles would never quite be able to capture. Here were some of the most important, some of the most successful, and some of the most famous people of the 1960's, and they had all been told to hide their faces.

You would be removing your masks at midnight, but the point still stood.

Through it all, you eventually lost the Doctor. You were drawn to a sofa where a collection of people were sitting. Cigarette smoke billowed around them, and you made sure you didn’t turn your nose up at the smell.

An older woman, in her early sixties, sat in the centre of them. She was clearly glamorous. Unlike most people, she had discarded her mask, which sat delicately in her lap. Her neck was adorned in jewels, and, unlike you, who was navigating this space much like a spectator of a foreign sport, she seemed at home in the lively atmosphere, drinking in the socialising and glitzy nature of the evening. The entire group seemed to be entranced in her words, and you didn’t blame them. There was this air of importance to her, like her words deserved to be heard.

The music changed, and she looked up towards the band. You did too and you saw the front man, whoever he was, was gone. She turned away and trailed off when she saw you, eyeing you up and down, much like someone viewing something in an art gallery.

“C’mon Tallulah,” one of the men surrounding her said. “What happened next?”

She ignored him, her kind gaze focused on you. “Oh, now aren’t you a dear,” she spoke with an odd accent. It was a transatlantic accent, but slightly southern, as if she had blended the two together. “You look absolute delectable darling. Tell me, who are you?”

You introduced yourself. Awkwardly. “Uh – Y/N, Y/N Y/L/N.”

She smiled at you, and held out her hand. You felt the compelling need to kiss it, like you were starring in a Jane Austen novel. This woman had an air of authority around her, like she dominated the space, like she was the first woman on the moon.

So you did so. You shuffled through the small crowd and took her hand, giving her a delicate kiss on her knuckles. She smiled at you, as if delighted you had done it. “Well, I see chivalry hasn’t died. What is a beauty such as yourself doing all alone?”

You flushed, the compliment taking you off guard. “Just enjoying myself.”

She hummed, and regarded you carefully. “You must find Truman, darling. It doesn’t do you good to be here alone.”

“Oh I’m not alone I came here with my…” you trailed off. What should you even call the Doctor. It didn’t seem like people’s plus ones here were just their friends, so would it be suspicious to say that?”

You were interrupted by a man who came up to your side. “Tallulah! Truman told me I should come ‘round.”

She gestured to her side, where the chair was free. “Well then, regale me as to why.”

He took the seat next to her. “Kenneth Jay Lane,” he said.

“Ah, the jeweller,” she winked to you, before turning back to him. “I have been meaning to discuss the matter of a ring with you…” You tuned her out, making your leave. You didn’t want to interrupt what this was, and you wanted to explore some more.

When you turned around, your eyes met the Doctor’s, all the way from across the other side. He was surrounded by his own group of people, and it was clear they were hanging onto every word he said. He was giving you an expression you didn’t quite understand. If it was anyone else, you would say he looked slightly jealous.

But it was the Doctor, and you were at a party. That wasn’t the case.

You began to make your way over to him, sure that you looked just as lost as you felt, when you were intercepted by somebody else. He wore a stylish tuxedo paired with a plain black mask. It took you far too long to place who he was.

But when it clicked, you almost bowled over.

It was Truman Capote.

The bloody host of the evening. Standing right in front of you.

He stuck out his hand. “Sorry, I’m not sure we’ve met, I’m Truman.”

You took it carefully. “I’m a plus one,” you said.

“Oh, I don’t mind who you are hon,” he said, and his voice was warm. The music changed and his eyes lit up. He offered his arm. “Oh,” he breathed. “Do come dance with me.”

You weren’t really in the position to say no, he was the host after all. “I’m, I’m not sure…”

“Oh I don’t want to force you,” he said. “You just seem a bit lost.”

You blanched slightly, mortified that he had noticed, but his eyes twinkled kindly. Gingerly, you took his arm, and he lead you to the dance floor.

He was shorter than you had assumed he would be, and, in your heels, you seemed to tower over him. He didn’t seem to mind though, and he let you place your free hand on his shoulder, your other hand in his. His other hand rested on your waist, but it felt performative, like interacting with you was a show, a practise that he had done many times before.

He took the lead and glided you across the dance floor. He was a good dancer, but you were still worried that you would step on his toes, or accidently squeeze his shoulder too hard to stay balanced.

“I loved Breakfast at Tiffany's,” you said, trying to break the ice. “And the film version too.”

He hummed in a bored tone, although not unkindly. “Yes, they all say that.”

“They?”

He didn’t address it. “Your companion, that peculiar Doctor fellow. He’s a… character.”

You laughed. That was one way you could describe him. “He is, yeah.”

That twinkle was back in his eyes, and you soon realised that it was quite common for him. “Did you know that he has been watching you all evening?”

You heart skipped a beat. He had?

“He’s a bit protective,” you said. “He’s got this rule about wandering off.”

Mr. Capote turned you both suddenly, the movement was jolting and you almost tripped. When you looked up, you saw the Doctor, who was giving you that same curious expression. His arms were crossed and he was tapping his foot. At first, you thought the tapping was in time with the music, but you soon realised that it was sporadic, as if he were impatient. He was rocking backwards and forwards slightly, as if debating whether or not who wanted to rush in and stop your dance, or stay behind in the conversation he was still animatedly engaged in.

Mr. Capote spun you again, and he was giving you a knowing smirk, that familiar sparkle in his eyes. “Does that look like a man who is just protective?”

You chewed on your lip. You didn’t know what to make of it, so, in a similar fashion to the Doctor, you chose to ignore it. “This is a really wonderful thing you’ve done,” you said. “This party.”

He smiled proudly. “It is. It’s for my friend Katherine, her husband died recently.”

You knew the stories, and you also knew how significant Katherine Graham would be to history. You thought of Watergate, the Vietnam Papers, and the way in which she shaped modern journalism.

No, you knew how important she was, and how much she needed this.

“It’s very kind of you,” you said.

“What about you,” Mr. Capote asked, and the song’s key changed, but it hadn’t finished. “What do you do Ms. Y/L/N?”

You replied on instinct. “Oh I travel,” it then occurred to you that you hadn’t told him your name. “Wait, my name? How did you-”

“Your friend. He talks about you, surely you know this.” Truman said.

You shook your head, and Mr. Capote sighed. “Now Y/N – may I call you Y/N?”

You nodded.

“I’m a homosexual,” he said it with complete casualness that you almost found it jarring. “I know what it looks like to see a man in love, and the Doctor? He’s it. I suggest you hold this information close to you, and do not squander it.”

You frowned. In love? That – that was a lot.

“I don’t understand,” you said. “Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I’m hoping, one day,” he said. “That when I have a favour of you or of your friend to ask, that you will return it. This is a party for 540 of my closest friends, 542, now, if you’ll allow it.”

You furrowed your brows, absorbing what he had said. 542, now, if you’ll allow it.

The song ended, and so too, did your dance. You came to a standstill, and he was looking at you expectantly. “You caught Andy Warhol’s eye,” Mr. Capote added. “Should you wish to take in more of the party, he would probably delight in speaking to you.”

You couldn’t even begin to know how to process that information.

You didn’t get the opportunity though, because, appearing by Mr. Capote’s side, was the Doctor. He was giving you a triumphant grin, and you quickly looked around you. That look only meant one thing, he had done something dramatic. What had he done?

He was looking at Mr. Capote. “Sorry to interrupt you but,” he turned to you and held out his hand. “Could I steal the next dance.”

You laughed nervously, Truman’s words echoing in your mind. “I didn’t realise I had a dance card.”

Truman winked to you. “It was wonderful to meet you Y/N Y/L/N. Enjoy the party.”

He walked away and you were left with the Doctor, the echoes of your conversation with Mr. Capote reeling in your mind.

Did you know that he has been watching you all evening?

The Doctor was fidgeting by your side, pulling against the sleeves of his undershirt.

You swallowed nervously. “Have you been enjoying the party?”

The Doctor looked up at the band, cursed under his breath, and turned back to you. “I think the more important question is, have you?”

You smiled, and almost started gushing about how beautiful this place was, about how strange but kind all the people you had spoken to had been, but, before you could speak, the first few bars of a very familiar song started to play.

The trumpets groaned, the drums beat softly, and you realised, with the full clarity of a child processing the answer to a maths questions, that you knew this song.

You gasped, locking eyes with the Doctor. Your nervousness, the awkwardness, forgotten. “You asked for a dance, right?”

The Doctor gave you a small grin. “I did indeed.”

You grabbed his hand, which he had dropped to his side. “Well then, let’s dance.”

He took you to the very centre of the dance floor, and rested his hands on your waist. You wrapped your hands around his neck.

Then, the singing began.

You'd be like Heaven to touch I wanna hold you so much

“Frank Sinatra’s at this party,” you commented idily. “Won’t he do a cover of this song?”

“You reckon this gives him the idea?” The Doctor said. “Hm, maybe it’s a good thing I chose this song then.”

“You requested this?” You gasped. “Can you do that, is it even allowed?”

The Doctor twirled you slowly. For however good Truman Capote was a dancer, he couldn’t match the Doctor. He made you feel as if you were meant to be dancing with him, moving the pair of you around the room gracefully. It didn’t even occur to you that you could step on the Doctor’s toes, or squeeze his neck too hard, or stumble, or any other concerns you had had earlier.

“Of course I can,” the Doctor replied. “I mean, I did it.”

“I don’t think that’s the same as being allowed to,” you mused with a slight upturn in your mouth.

The Doctor smirked. “C’mon Y/N, since when have I followed the rules.”

You nodded your head to the side, conceding his point. He was right, after all.

It was just another thing about him that was brilliant.

“You know…” you said slowly. “Mr. Capote told me something interesting.”

“Oh?” The Doctor said. “Did he tell you the plot of his next novel?”

“No,” you said, and then you pondered it for a moment. You weren’t quite sure how to go about asking him this.

Pardon the way that I stare There's nothin' else to compare

It occurred to you suddenly. The Doctor was terrible at communication. He didn’t do words, he did actions.

So you focused on the action.

"Why did you chose this song, anyway? You asked.

The Doctor frowned at you slightly, as if he were surprised that you had asked. He thought about it for a moment, before settling on, quite frankly, the most annoyingly cryptic response he could have made. "It says some things."  

"It does," you said. "But what's it saying for you?"

The singer crooned out the hook, those iconic lines:

You're just too good to be true Can't take my eyes off of you

And those famous words, something that had been said thousands of times, for thousands of people, suddenly felt like they had always meant to be for you.

The Doctor stared at you, almost imploringly, but, at the same time, like he was finally at peace. "Does it need to be said?"

Understanding dawned on you.

I know what it looks like to see a man in love, and the Doctor? He’s it.

Before you had the chance to reply, the melody changed to the familiar upbeat bridge, and the Doctor swung you out. You laughed out in delight twirling on the dance floor, your dress creating an illusion of different patterns.

Just as quickly, you were in the Doctors arms again, moving in time to the beat.

"I think you should say it," you said. "Just this once.”

The Doctor's face went a slight shade of red. “I – you know I’m not good at that.”

“I know,” you said. “But try?”

He gave you a shy smile. He pointed towards the band, and you payed attention to the words

Now that I've found you, stay And let me love you, baby Let me love you

You swallowed nervously.

Right then.

“So that’s why you chose this song then,” you pressed. “That what you wanted to say?”

“I’ve never been good at words,” he replied.

You gave a half-hearted scoff. “That’s a lie,” but, when you looked at him, you didn’t have the heart to argue.

Your chest warmed with an unfamiliar, rosey feeling, that seeped through your skin and into your very bones. It felt warm, and it made you feel whole, like, for the very first time in your life, everything was right. Was this what it felt like? Being loved back?

You rest your head against his chest, and focused on his hearts beating rather than the music. They were a rapid staccato, that only seemed to grow faster the longer you laid your head there. The Doctor’s long arms tightened around you, and you let it, with one hand resting on your shoulder, and the other resting on the small of your back.

“Beautiful,” the Doctor said, his voice soft. “That’s what I wanted to say earlier,when I first saw you all dressed up like this. You look beautiful.”

Your dance had moved into a slow sway, stepping from side to side.

“The song,” you said. “I agree with it, with what it’s saying” you said. “For you, that is.”

One of the Doctors hands, the one that had rested on your shoulder, snaked around your person and lightly nudged your chin. You looked up to him, and were graced by a brilliant, hopeful smile.

“Yeah?” he asked.

You grinned. “Yeah.”

#the doctor x reader #tenth doctor imagine #10th doctor x reader #tenth doctor x reader #10th doctor #Elle: Speaks #opening Elle's vault #vault fic

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tomtenadia · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Braver - Chapter 4

So, chapter 4 is finally here.

It has a few funny moments but it also has angst.

This fic has so much more angst that i originally planned.

Anyway... enjoy it.

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The drive to the hospital did not take long but once inside they noticed the waiting room was swamped.

“Whitethorn, this is pointless,” she said when he placed her on an empty chair “we’ll be here for hours.”

“I don’t care, we are getting that knee checked.” His tone did not admit any protest from her.

Aelin grunted “I hate you.”

“Is that news? Tell me something I don’t know.” Rowan took a seat on the empty seat beside her then took her injured leg and lifted it on his lap. Aelin winced.

It was three hours later when Rowan started to loose his patience “that woman came after us and she went in already.” He protested a bit too loudly for Aelin’s taste. Why was he caring about her wellbeing all of a sudden?

“Maybe she is worse than a busted knee.” She shrugged but he glared at her.

“She walked into the A&E on her own two feet. You just dealt with that damn inferno with that busted knee.” He protested and the hint of pride in his voice moved something inside her.

“I don’t need the red carpet.”

“Some fucking attention for people who bust their asses to save other people lives would be appreciated.” His tone got a bit louder still. Rowan did not seem the type to cause a scene but he seemed a bit too annoyed and to be honest she did not know much about the guy. She just hoped his military training would kick in and restrain himself.

“Doctor save lives too.”

He grunted and stood and Aelin braced for the worst. She saw him walk with purpose to the reception desk with perfect military stride. She would have laughed if it wasn’t that she was scared of what he would do.

She saw him talk to one of the nurses behind the nurses station. A few times his arm pointed at her and she made herself small and invisible.

Then she went back spying on him and studied his posture and gasped. The man was flirting with the nurse. Stick up in the arse captain was flirting with the nurse to get her in early. She was dumbfounded. She could not believe that he had it in him.

He came back five minutes later with a smug face “Someone will come for you soon.”

Aelin’s mouth fell open “Did you just flirt with the nurse to have me seen earlier?”

“I did not such thing,” and he looked away, scanning the waiting room.

“She is looking over here. I think she is interested in you and is now wondering how it would feel to bag an airforce captain.”

Rowan huffed “not interested.”

“She is pretty.”

“Not my type…”

“Oh come on grampa, she could even play sexy nurse with you.”

Rowan rolled his eyes “you really are a menace.”

She was about to add a snarky remark when a doctor stopped in front of them “Aelin Galathynius?”

Aelin’s head snapped up “I am here.”

“I am doctor Yrene Westfall. Follow me.”

Westfall? Was she Chaol’s wife?

“Did you say Westfall? Is Chaol your husband?”

“Yes. Do you know him?”

Aelin nodded “I am a firefighter, we work a lot with the police. He was at the embankment fire tonight.”

“He told me, apparently it was hell. His own words.”

“It was bad.” Aelin stood and swore as sharp pain shoot from her knee up her leg.

“Why did you do that?” Rowan protested and lifted her again in his arms.

“You are making the nurse jealous.”

“Shut up and let’s follow the nice doctor.”

“Put her down here,” Yrene pointed at an empty bed.

Rowan placed her gently on the bed and stepped at the bottom of it. His hands behind his back.

Yrene lifted the leg of her trousers and had a look at her knee “This look quite bad, why did you wait this long to come to the hospital?”

“I was going to… but then city emergency and all and it slipped my mind.”

Rowan snorted and Aelin glared at him.

“And you walked all day on it?”

“Kinda…”

“You might have made things much worse.”

Aelin leaned back on the pillow and sighed. She knew and with the performance review on its way it had been very stupid of her.

“How did it happen?”

“We were in the middle of a drill this morning. The explosion happened, the shockwave made me loose my balance and I fell down the ladder face first and my left knee took the impact.”

“You might have broken your kneecap. I need to send you for an x-ray and see what is the situation.” She went away and came back five minutes later “Someone will come and get you soon. You captain, can wait here until she is back.”

Rowan nodded and pinched her big toe when he noticed her worried expression “Do you want me to come in and hold your hand?”

“Screw you, Whitethorn.”

He pinched the toe again and his lip quirked up in a tight attempt at a smile.

Aelin wondered if she’ll ever see him smile or even laugh.

The porter came and rolled her bed away. She snatched a last look at Rowan and saw him standing where her bed had been I’ll be here. She saw him mouth to her.

Rowan began pacing back and forth in a very nervous state. His phone pinged and saw a text from Lorcan asking for an update on behalf of her squad. He texted back saying she was getting an x-ray.

He sat down on the chair near where the bed was and took out his phone to scroll through the news of the fire at the warehouses. In one of the articles he saw a great picture of her. She was staring at the inferno in front of her and with her hand she was pointing at something, maybe giving an order. He saved the picture on his phone then went on reading the article flushing with pride at how the journalist had praised her for handling such an emergency with professionalism and doing a great jobs at keeping the victims to a very low level. Turned out they only had lost two workers. Considering what he had seen he was impressed because it could have been far, far worse. He read a few more articles and almost seethed with rage when a journalist had the courage to criticise the TFD for having a young girl in charge of such an emergency.

It was an hour later when Aelin and Yrene came back. Aelin’s face told him that the news was bad.

“Her kneecap is badly fractured. She will need surgery. I have contacted the orthopaedic surgeon to see if he can squeeze her in tomorrow. Then she will have to stay in the hospital for a few days. Once she gets home she can move around with crutches but it might take up to a month before she will be able to do rehab. The whole thing should last around three months if she cooperates.”

Rowan stared at Aelin and he saw her heartbroken expression.

Once Yrene excused herself saying she was going to get her a room, Rowan moved closer to her.

“Don’t. Don’t you even try and say what you are about to say. I do not need your pity.”

He knew that the idea of not being able to participate in the performance review was killing her. Gods he wanted to hug her again like in her office and offer comfort. But that was a skill he had always been bad at.

“Do you need anything?”

“Yes, being less fucking stupid.” She growled through gritted teeth “I knew that explosion was coming. I knew we had fucked up the exercise and let it run longer than meant to. Aedion and I had planned that explosion. I knew it and I still let it knock me off like a blasted newbie.”

She breathed deeply “I am too stupid to be a captain.”

No, he was not having that.

“Now you are talking shite.” He snarled back. He was not having her accusing herself os something like that. He took out his phone and opened the first article he read. The one with the great picture.

“Captain Galathynius has showed nerves of steel while handling a double fire that could have had catastrophic consequences. She masterfully deployed two teams to tackle emergency after emergency without ever backing down from the constant challenge. And when it seemed that the situation was taking a turn for the worst, she pulled a rabbit out of the hat and convinced the stiff necked airforce posh boys to join and help tackle a raging fire, far too big for three fire engines. Captain Galathynius and the two teams deserve more recognition for their incredible job. Far more than a pat on the back.

All the firefighters involved tonight had showed great heroism and excellent skills. Every day these men and women place their lives on the line to keep our city safe. The government should keep it in mind at his next budget review and find in itself to invest in money in services the city deeply deserves like firefighters, the police and the health services instead of flushing it down the drain to fund fancy planes built for destruction.”

“Uh…. He really does not like you guys.”

“I don’t care,” said Rowan quickly “What matters is what she said about you. She doesn’t think you are stupid. And I don’t think it either. This stiff necked posh boy thinks you are amazing.”

“Liar.”

“I am not lying. Why would I? I agree with this woman. You were fucking amazing tonight. All of you. And yes, you deserve far more credit than what you will get.”

His eyes glistened with pride and his words had helped a bit ease her anger.

“So you think I am amazing?”

“I do.” His voice much softer all of a sudden.

Yrene came back in that moment and broke the spell. She had a feeling she and the captain were about to have a moment but the magic had passed.

“I have a room for you.” And she had a wheelchair with her.

Rowan grabbed Aelin again and lifted her into the wheelchair and offered to push her.

“Chaol was my saviour tonight,” she giggled while Rowan rolled the wheelchair along the corridor following the doctor.

“How so?”

“He knows I hate reporters. So as soon as he saw a few coming at me he came and saved me before I could punch them. Plus, he and his men did an outstanding job at crowd control. I know it doesn’t seem like a lot, but when you have people running terrified from a building on fire it can end badly. And they also kept an eye to all the curious monster who come and have a peek and film it to post it social media for a five minutes of glory. Police let us concentrate on the emergency without worrying about what’s happening in the background.”

“Thank you for telling me.” The woman smiled at her.

“Make sure you give him an extra cuddle tonight.”

Both Aelin and Yrene burst out laughing.

“I will reward him accordingly, captain.”

They finally reached the elevator and the three got in. Not long after they were in the room and Rowan lifted her in bed. Yrene left them to get her settled in.

“You need clothes, damn it.” He looked around him as if to find an answer in an hospital room.

“My house keys are at the station.”

“Fine I’ll go and get them and grab some clothes for you from your house. Give me the address.”

“No.”

His face turned confused “why? You can’t stay in your uniform.”

“I am not having you in my house, going through my drawers and my clothes.”

Rowan sighed “tell me where you keep t-shirts and shorts and I will just go straight to that one. I am not a creep I swear.”

“Fine.” She texted him the address “my keys are in the black messenger bag in my locker. There is a small pocket at the front. They are attached to the hook. Actually take the whole bag with you. I have a charger and other stuff in there that I might need.”

“Ok, I’ll be back as soon as possible.”

“Captain?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

He nodded and before leaving he turned once more “you could start calling me Rowan, by the way.”

“Thank you, Rowan.”

He left thinking that his name on her lips was the most beautiful sound ever.

He reached the fire station not long after. He met Ress in the corridor.

“Captain.”

“Ress, isn’t it?”

The man nodded.

“How’s Aelin?

“She will need surgery. She is not happy as you could imagine.”

“Damn.”

A tall man joined them a moment later. His uniform was white.

“This is chief Havilliard.” Said Ress.

So that was the young Havilliard.

“You must be captain Whitethorn.”

Rowan nodded.

“Thank you for your assistance tonight.”

Rowan shook his head “it was Aelin’s idea. The credit goes to her. I just follow orders.”

“How is she by the way?” And Rowan could see concern in the man’s eyes.

“She will need surgery. Her knee is busted pretty badly. They are trying to book her for tomorrow. I am heading to her place to get her some clothes.”

“I will update the squad.” Dorian said “I will also try and beg the board to postpone the review. Aedion will be home tomorrow but he will be off for a week and Aelin looks like she will be out of commission for a while. And I need them to train the team. They are my golden duo.”

Rowan took an immediate liking to the chief.

Once Dorian took his leave, Ress took Rowan to their changing rooms and pointed to Aelin’s locker.

“Tell her that the team is behind her and that she was awesome tonight. Also let us know where she is in the hospital so we can come and visit.”

“Room 252 in the orthopaedic ward.”

“Thank you sir.”

Ress left him. He grabbed Aelin’s bag and his eyes spotted the pictures attached to the door and the walls. He saw some pictures with a man and he had a feeling his face was familiar. The photos portrayed a couple in love and for a very brief instant a very strange emotion he could not decipher set into him and then it quickly went away with the same speed it came.

He ignored it. Slammed the locker shut and left the station.

Fifteen minutes later he reached her house and let himself in. The house was gorgeous and very modern. He stepped into the living room and noticed the wall were painted a light yellow giving the room much more brightness. He smiled at the insane number of bookcases bursting with books. So, she was a book worm. Good, something to talk about if they had a chance to have a conversation that contained less insults and vitriol.

He walked to the door she had indicated and reached her bedroom and froze for a moment. He knew he had her permission but for an instant he felt as if he was invading her privacy.

The room was painted a pastel blue and a huge bed was was in the middle. At one end he noticed the drawer and walked to it and froze when he noticed there were two middle drawers.

Shit, she had said the middle drawer but which one. Damn, he had promised.

He opened the top one and slammed it shut when he saw the content. That was her underwear drawer. He turned and leaned against the piece of furniture. Bras… 38A she had said and now his treacherous brain was picturing the piece of clothing filled by…

“Damn.”

He opened the other one and breathed relieved when he noticed t-shirts and shorts. Good. He grabbed a few of her TFD t-shirts and placed them in the duffel bag at the bottom of her bed.

His phone went off. It was Aelin.

“What?”

“Gee, you sound grumpy.”

“What do you need m’lady?” His voice dripping with fake pleasantness.

“I am giving you permission to open the second drawer from the top and grab me some underwear as well, please.”

“You are kidding me.” Aelin could clearly hear the panic in his voice.

“Ro, I am not. I have an emergency and I will soon need new knickers. So yes, get in that drawer and grab me my underwear.”

His hand ran through his hair in a nervous gesture.

“Also, there is a small convenience store around the corner, could you please buy me tampons?”

Rowan almost choked.

“I am sorry what?”

“You heard me. I assume you had been with other women before. You know we get periods, right?”

“Fine, I will phone you back once I am in the shop. I have no idea what to buy.”

“Just don’t blush too much.”

And he could hear the grin in her voice.

He hung up and breathed deeply and opened the drawer. The selection was… incredible.

He picked a few sports bra thinking that for an hospital stay they would be the better option. Definitely the lacy one were not proper. He rummaged a bit and looked again for something more sober when all of a sudden he found in his hands something that had little or no use as underwear but his treacherous mind painted some very sexy pictures.

Damn, that was torture. He grabbed a nice selection of the sober pieces and closed the drawer from hell in relief. He stuffed everything in the bag and walked out, in desperate need of fresh air.

Next stop he drove to the convenience store and braced himself for the next task. He walked in and sneaked to the correct section feeling like a perv for lingering in a section where he clearly did not belong to. He looked at the boxes and he had no idea that there were so many choices. He phoned her.

“Oh, you are still alive.”

“I am in the shop. Which one do you need?” He almost growled.

“Tampons.” She said matter of factly.

“I am a bloke, Fireheart. I have no idea of what you are talking about.”

He heard her sigh “the ones that looks like bullets.”

“Ok, which type?”

“At the bottom they have guidelines with drops. One with two drops and one with three. Actually make it two each.”

“Does the brand matter?”

“I am not fussed.”

“Okay. I got it.”

“I owe you another one.”

“That’s two now.”

“Fine, fine, Buzzard.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later, get your arse back here.”

“So bossy.”

He hang up and had a look at the brands. She had said she was not fussed but he had decided to get her the expensive ones, hoping it meant they were of a better quality as well.

He walked to the counter to pay “For my wife,” he muttered embarrassed, paid and got out quickly.

She owed him big time. Not for the water drop but for this.

When he got back to the hospital he went to her room and dumped the bag on her bed and moved away from her.

“Gee someone is on edge. Did my underwear scare you? The fearless pilot got frightened by lace.”

He scoffed an ignored her.

“Seriously man, never had a girlfriend or a date wearing sexy lingerie for you?”

“Of course.”

“Well, so what’s problem?”

He sat heavily on the chair “I was probably dating the person at the time, which implies other things.” She could still see the embarrassment in his features “you and I are just work partners. It was very weird.”

“Well, at least now you know how big is a 38A.”

The top of his ears turned red. She loved so much to rile him up.

She had look at what he had brought her and was very happy when she noticed he had picked sports bra. He had actually put some thought in it. Then her eyes caught the boxes of tampons “Rowan, these are very expensive.”

“I just thought… you know… better quality, perhaps? More comfortable? I don’t know. Again, I am a bloke.”

She wished she could stand and kiss him. He had been amazing. She never had put Sam through such torture. He would have probably died at the idea of buying her feminine products.

“I am very grateful. For everything.”

He gave her a smile. It never reached his eyes but the effort was there her heart fluttered at the precious little show of emotion.

He stood “I’ll let you change.” He made to walk away but stopped when he noticed her face.

“You need to use the facilities I guess.”

She nodded.

He lifted her in his arms and walked into the bathroom and deposited her on the loo.

“Let me know when you are done.” He left the room and walked to the corridor and sat on a chair. He took his phone and started browsing some old news about firefighters. He was still thinking about the man he saw in the picture in her locker. He had seen that face in the news.

He searched for a while until he found an article about a fireman called Sam Cortland. He opened and began to read. Shit. Sam and Aelin had been an item for five years and according to the article they had been engaged. He had been a captain at west station. He got killed while fighting a fire in a warehouse. Shit. His hands shook. They had in common more than just books. He pocketed the phone and walked back to the room.

“Are you okay?” He called through the door.

“Almost ready.”

He leaned against the wall and tried to calm down. It had been just over a year. Was she okay?

“I am ready.” He shoot off the wall and opened the door of the bathroom and saw her in her TFD t-shirt. He lifted her in his arms and he never would have wanted to let go of her.

“Back to your bed.”

Her arms were around his neck and it felt as if she lingered like that a bit longer on purpose.

Or maybe he had just imagined.

“Do you need painkillers? Something to eat?”

Aelin shook her head “I am officially fasting. My surgery has been scheduled for tomorrow at 9.”

“That’s great.”

“I am a bit nervous.”

He sat down on the bed, just in front of her. Her hands were on her lap. He took her hand by grasping just the tip of the fingers “I can stay with you. I can be here when you wake up, or I can call someone else whose company you enjoy more.”

Aelin squeezed his hand back. She wished she had the strength to tell him that somehow she had enjoyed his company very much in the recent hours. But things were still very weird between them and she was positive he still did not like her.

Then she looked up and saw his eyes staring at her and realised that maybe she was wrong. In those beautiful green eyes of his she had noticed a spark of emotion, albeit for a fleeting moment.

“Keep me company, please.” He nodded and sat back on the chair.

They chatted amicably. She had told her about the station and her friends, then he reported that Lorcan was officially smitten by Elide and the two started making plans to set up the two of them.

At her first yawn, Rowan ordered her to go to bed. He tucked her in and went back to his seat.

When he woke up the next morning it was pretty early. He stood and stretched his back, sore from a night asleep on a chair. Aelin was still asleep so he sneaked out of the room and went in search of the cafeteria for a coffee. Then he had a look at himself in one of the doors and noticed he was still in uniform, now a mess, and a shadow of stubble on his face. His academy CO would have his head for walking around in such horrible state while in uniform. He shrugged, got his coffee and went back to the room. Jotted down a note for Aelin. He needed to go home, take a shower and get fresh clothes. He would be back by the time she returned from surgery.

On his way home he phoned Lorcan to give him an update on his whereabouts. He asked also for a few days off to help Aelin and the man agreed. Rowan snorted. Being in love was doing miracles on the old bastard.

He got home, relaxed, took quite a long shower and eventually he had breakfast and caught up with the news and saw that the big fire was still making the headlines. Then a photo caught his attention. Apparently the community had turned in support of the fire stations. They had flocked in front of the government building protesting in light of the new spending budget. Many of signs called for a cut in military spending and to give due value to corps such as firefighters and police. He realised that he would have probably been there as well if it wasn’t that his presence would guarantee him being kicked out of the force immediately. He had been disgusted when he saw how much the airforce got for the repairs. So much more than asked and then Aelin and the guys had to beg for a second engine. Yes, he was in the airforce but he did not agree with the amount of money that often got thrown at them. He eventually got dressed and headed back to the hospital but once he arrived he spotted a few reporters.

“Bloody leeches.”

He tried to walk unnoticed, but alas, his silver hair was not the most inconspicuous of traits.

One woman blocked his path and flung the microphone at him “Captain, how does it feel to save the day?”

Rowan looked at the woman puzzled. How on earth did they know who he was? He had been on a plane the night of the fire.

“You and your team stopped the fires. Without you, the firefighters would have failed.”

Anger. Fiery anger surged through him in a savage wave.

“I think you have read the news wrong.” He tried to calm down “The real heroes are the firefighters,” he shouted for all the reporters to hear “They are the ones who put their lives in danger. They are the ones who jumped into an inferno saving as many workers as possible.” He looked at all of them “over an hour. They were at it for over an hour, with no break, no one to cover for them or take their place. Captain Galathynius supervised the whole thing while injured and barely being able to stand. And you give all the credit to us?” He roared “We showed up because the captain had the amazing idea of using us. We swooped in at the end of the game, when one of the building was almost off. We just dropped some water and you call us heroes?” His hand were now in tight fists “I flew one of those planes and I do not want glory. I do not deserve glory. East and west station do. The police do.” And he walked away furious. Bastards. He hoped that someone passed the interview live, so his real words would pass on. He did not trust reporters.

He ran upstairs and when he arrived he noticed Aelin in bed and half asleep. He gave her a big smile.

“Hey you, tight-pants.”

He chuckled and sat beside her “how do you feel?”

“My hand moves funny.” She said moving her hand in front of her face and Rowan realised she was still quite drugged up from the surgery.

She was quite funny.

“Your hair is white.”

He brushed his hair with his hand “do you like it?”

She gave him a goofy smile “you are sooooo pretty.”

“Oh thank you. No one has called me pretty in a very long time.” He took her hand in his.

“I have a secret” she said and placed a finger in front of her mouth.

“Can I hear it?”

“Yes. But don’t tell the captain.” Who did she think she was talking to?

“I won’t, I promise.” He played along.

“I think I like him. A lot.”

For a brief instant something flashed in her eyes and Rowan had a feeling she was quite lucid.

He jumped off the bed in terror.

“I like him a lot, but he hates me.”

Sadness. That was definitely sadness in her voice. He took a step back.

She turned her head to the side.

“I really, really do.” And he saw her close her eyes.

He took another step back and walked out of the room. Once outside he ran to the car and leaned against it closing his eyes. Her words kept ringing in his ears. And her voice. It had changed so much when she uttered those words. It was her. She was fully lucid when she said it. He placed a hand on his heart and found it racing. He wanted to go back to her and say that he did not hated her. That he… he had no idea what he felt. He groaned and jumped in the car and decided to go for a drive. He had to clear his head.

Lysandra found Aelin with her head turned to the window and she thought she had heard her friend crying.

“Hey you…” Lysandra sat at her side and caressed her friend’s head “what’s wrong?”

Aelin sniffled loudly “I think I have said something stupid.”

“More than usual?” But when Aelin did not laugh she realised it must have been real and bad.

“I woke up from surgery and I felt funny for a while. I think captain Whitethorn was here. I am not sure. And I think…” she stopped, sobbing a bit more “I think I told him I like him.” She finally turned her face to Lysandra “I remember his terror and then he left.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yeah, I think the drugs were wearing off and I felt a bit more lucid. I think it was him.”

“Oh darling.”

“He hates me so much that he ran away.” Aelin resumed sobbing heavily “am I such a horrible person?”

Lysandra hugged Aelin tightly and cursed the man. If she got her hands on him he would be a dead man. Or she could unleash Aedion on him. He was just as protective of Aelin.

“He is an idiot. A big tall idiot.” Lys brushed Aelin’s cheek “you need to rest now. You just had surgery.”

“How’s Aedion?”

“At home. Sore and bored already. The doctor gave him a week off but he is not happy. Well, you know him.”

“I heard Dorian mentioning that he might try to get the review postponed. It’s not fair on you guys.”

Aelin sighed “I will still be out.”

“I know, but at least Aedion will be there. One of you at least.” Lysandra reassured her.

Aelin put the tv on and gasped when the tv showed Rowan. It was just outside the hospital.

“What the fuck?”

“Put the volume up,” said Lysandra.

“They were at it for over an hour, with no break, no one to cover for them or take their place. Captain Galathynius supervised the whole thing while injured and barely being able to stand. And you give all the credit to us?” She heard him raise his voice“We showed up because the captain had the amazing idea of using us. We swooped in at the end of the game, when one of the building was almost off. We just dropped some water and you call us heroes?” His hand were not in tight fists “I flew one of those planes and I do not want glory. I do not deserve glory. East and West station do. The police do.” Aelin saw him walk away and she had a feeling that it was when he came back to her. He had normal clothes on. When he took her at the hospital he still had the uniform on.

“That is definitely not the speech of a man who hates you.”

“Lys, not helping.”

Aelin flipped through the channels to see the interview again.

“Don’t think too much about him.”

“Yeah,” Aelin stared at the tv “no worth it, right?”

“Totally.”

Lys kissed her head “Babe I need to go home and tend to Aedion. I don’t want to leave him alone for too long. I know the guys are planning to come as soon as they are off shift, which will be tomorrow morning.”

“Go, I will be fine.” She patted her hand and gave her a tight smile “go and look after Aedion.”

Once Lysandra was out of the room she grabbed her phone and texted Rowan. She waited an hour and tried to phone and realised his phone was off.

“Fine, message received.”

Rowan had driven all the way to the coast to Ilium. It had taken him two hours but it had been worth it. He had spent the afternoon sitting on the beach, his phone switched off. He lay down in the sand and closed the eyes, enjoying the peace of the beach. He almost thought that he’d love to take Aelin there but as soon as his brain said the name he had been ignoring for the past two hours his mood was soured again.

He had fled. Like a coward. She just had surgery and he had left her on her own because he had an issue dealing with his feelings. He was the worst human being ever existed.

Was it so wrong if she was in love with him?

His mind flashed him a name. A name he had tried to bury in the depths of his mind.

He groaned in frustration and stood and started walking on the sand along the beach. The place was beautiful.

He wandered until it was late then decided to go and find a room for the night. He was not in the mood to go back to Orynth. Then he went for dinner and finally dragged himself to a pub. Alcohol. He definitely needed a drink. Something that he hadn’t enjoyed in a very long time. Damn he was so boring. How could anyone be in love with him?

He had a few whiskies in one shot and the liquor burned his throat. He was not used anymore and the booze already started spreading a welcomed numbness through his body and mind. Good, oblivion is what he wanted.

He ordered two more whiskies and chugged them down again in one single motion.

He looked at the tv behind the counter and he discovered the news were passing his interview. He lowered his head and realised straight away it was a stupid idea. His silver hair stood out like a sore thumb.

“I think you look prettier in person.” Said a voice at his side, then he felt a pair of hands on his arm.

He turned his head and there was a woman at his side. Smiling sensually at him.

“Well, you need glasses.” He turned his head again and kept watching the tv ignoring the woman.

“I am Remelle.”

“Good for you.” He ate a couple of the peanuts on the small plate on the counter.

“Why is such a good looking man all alone in a place like this, drinking whisky shots?”

“None of your business.” She moved closer and her hand traced the length of his arm. He had a t-shirt on and his tattoo was on display.

“I love your tattoo.” Her fingers traced the lines of it.

Rowan got off the chair “I am sorry, but I am not interested. Not in the mood and you are being very rude.”

“I can help you make forget about her. You look like pining about some mysterious woman”

Rowan had enough. He stormed out of the pub and ran all the way back to the beach and fell on his knees. He looked up at the dark sky and then closed his eyes.

He had feelings for Aelin. Somehow his treacherous heart had decided to play tricks on him and make him feel again. Something he had forbidden himself from doing for a while. But Aelin had struck him dumb since day one with her big mouth, her defiance. The woman had fire in her and a part of him felt irremediably pulled to her, no matter how much he tried to deny it. He confessed to himself that he had enjoyed fussing over her, looking after her and even try to cheer her up when she had been down. He had told her the truth, he was in awe of her, of what she had done and he hadn’t been in awe of anyone in a very long time.

He had feelings for her, big damn feelings and all he could do was flee instead of facing them. But he was not ready yet. That was his biggest fear. That’s why he had ran out of the room, because her admission had touched a part of him that hadn’t healed yet. Just like her he had loved and lost everything. His feelings were just budding. He had better repress them before it got worse. It was better for both of them. He was positive she deserved someone better than him.

Rowan sighed and sat in the sand in silence, staring at the sky until the fog in his mind started to clear. Eventually he dragged his pitiful arse back to his hotel and crashed in bed fully clothed.

TAGS:

@rowaelinismyotp

@jlinez

@swankii-art-teacher

#rowan whitethorn #rowaelin #rowan x aelin #aelin galythinius #Lysandra #aedion x lysandra #elide x lorcan #fanfic #Throne of Glass series

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siriuslyobsessedwith · 4 years ago

Text

Draco Malfoy and Hermione Granger: Nightmares

They are about three months into dating, still in the early stages of testing each other’s boundaries and asking guiding questions when Hermione sleeps over at Draco’s apartment for the first time

Stumbling through the door after a casual night out, their hands are on each other in a millisecond: Draco threads his fingers through her curls while she grins into his lips; Hermione’s hands slide up his neck and her legs straddle his waist and they tumble through the apartment and into his bedroom and the night progresses

Neither of them think to mention their nightmares before they fall asleep tangled into each other. Burgeoning love has a way of doing that to people, of turning normally careful, disciplined individuals soft with happiness and safety.

But the nightmares have come for both of them for years. Draco’s began the summer after 5th year when his father was in Azkaban and Voldemort set up his court in his home. For the first time in his life, he felt helpless, terrified, and, above all, alone. His father was gone and he felt the responsibility of protecting his mother in every waking moment. At night, he failed over and over and over again.

Now, however, his nightmares are of him failing everyone he loves and having to watch them die. But they are also of his very real failures, of watching his now-girlfriend scream and contort under his aunt’s curse, of watching his mother be punished for his inability to kill.

Hermione’s nightmares start the same time. She dreams of the curse she was struck with in the Department of Mysteries, of the cruel twist of the Death Eater’s wand as he sent the bright light toward her. As the danger becomes more imminent, her nightmares change to watching herself make a mistake that costs her friends their lives. She, too, lives with a constant burden of saving everyone. At night, she watches everyone die, and then wakes screaming as she too is punished for her failure.

After Malfoy Manor and the Battle of Hogwarts, however, her nightmares change. They are less visual, more visceral. She feels Greyback’s breath down the back of her neck, the lightning strike of each Crucio. She can hear the screams of Mrs. Weasley over Fred’s body and the whimpers of Lavender Brown in the Great Hall. She is surrounded by horror through all her senses but sight. Through it all, she can see nothing. She is helpless, lost, and in the dark.

They both wake up from nightmares differently. Draco convulses as the green light inevitably jets towards him or his mother or his father and his eyes snap open, and for a moment he is paralyzed with horror. His breath come in frantic puffs and his hands clench into fists. He lays stiff, eyes wide and staring, his mind willing his body to respond. But for a moment, he is trapped, unable to do anything but try to breath.

Hermione wakes up screaming every time. She bolts upright and her cheeks are crying and she has to hold herself to calm down, calm down, calm down. After the war, she took to putting silencing charms on her room when she was staying with the Weasley’s. The first night she forgot was the first day she started looking for her own apartment. The pity and pain in everyone’s eyes the next morning was worse for her than any nightmare.

Even though they are both nestled into the other, safe and happy and hopeful for the first time in a while, their nightmares still find them. Hermione wakes first, screaming and stuffing the sheets into her mouth in an attempt to muffle her cries. She buries her head into her knees and shakes and sobs as silently as she can. She didn’t want him to think she was so broken anymore. And she can’t possibly see the same pity in his eyes. That would break her forever.

Draco is an incredibly light sleeper, so he is slammed out of watching her scream at his home to watch her sob in his bed. For a moment he is still paralyzed, at once trying to calm himself down and trying to make himself move. He’s furious at himself for being so weak and so trapped that he can’t comfort her. For a solid minute he is trapped and just has to watch her sob and heave and tremble and god he swears it’s worse than any nightmare.

When his body lets him move again, he reaches out for her, threading his hand around her back and pulling her to him. She jumps, turning wide eyes to him that seem to search for something. He holds her gaze, and they communicate silently for a bit. Sometimes words don’t work.

I hear you, he thinks to her. I’m here and I don’t want you to be alone.

I’m sorry, she thinks to him. I’m sorry you have to see me like this and I’m sorry I’m too lost in my nightmare to help you with yours.

I have nightmares too, they both think. We are both so broken, it’s almost funny.

Is their shared suffering beautiful? Maybe it’s not, but understanding without pity is something neither of them had every truly hoped for before this. They say a million important things just with their eyes, and then, in silent agreement, Hermione nestles herself into Draco and they fall into an uneasy but nonetheless comforting sleep. Hermione, lulled by the sound of Draco’s heart while he counts her breaths and watches her face, gradually dips into sleep.

They don’t mention the unspeakable. That their nightmares are opposite and the same. That he dreams of doing nothing while she suffers, and she dreams of the terrifying, impossible pain and the memory of being utterly helpless.

When Hermione wakes up to the sound of the coffee maker, she startles a bit, realizing that she isn’t in her own flat. And then she remembers last night. The spot in the bed next to her is cold, and she bunches the covers up over her chest as she shivers.

She tiptoes out of bed, rustling through his drawers to find a t-shirt of his to wear, and attempts to wrangle her sleep-ruined hairdo from the night before into something kind of ok. When she tiptoes out of the room, she imagines she is leaving the nightmares behind. She catches him in the kitchen, humming to himself as he makes coffee just the way she likes it, and she smiles at him because this man, without the burdens of the world, is all hers.

And then she remembers. And she’s guilty and angry and sad and worried. He heard that scream, watched her heave and shake and try to remember it’s over, it’s over, it’s not real. There’s no way he will look at her the same. The acceptance of last night was temporary, a necessity of two sleep-deprived war survivors.

“Granger, don’t you know it’s rude to stare? And a bit creepy, if I’m being honest.”

She’s startled out of her thoughts by a steaming cup of coffee and cream and she looks up and his eyes are full of understanding. Not pity. Understanding and promise. For a moment she thinks they are just not going to talk about it (and if she’s completely honest, she could live with that), but he proves her wrong, just as he has so many times before.

“Nightmares, huh,?” he quips, eyes boring in to her without apology. “Every night?”

“Yes,” she whispers.

“Always the same?”

“Yes. You too?”

“Yes. Do you--,” he pauses, hand worrying the back of his neck. “Do you want to...talk about it?” His eyes are hesitant, as though there is an invisible line he knows he can’t cross.

“Not really,” she murmurs. “Do you?”

“No.”

They pause in silence for a moment. He’s thinking of how he can possibly comfort her if she doesn’t want to talk and then condemning himself for thinking she would ever want to talk to him about it. She’s imagining all the things he’s thinking, that she blames him or that she hates him or that she’ll never forgive him.

They’ve never broached the subject of that night. He’s told her of everything he did to protect his family and stay alive, and she’s told him about the months on the run, of the months without Ron. But they’ve never talked about Malfoy Manor.

At the very same time, they speak: “I’m sorry.” and “I never blamed you.” at the same time, and then terrified eyes lost in each other’s gaze.

Hermione’s never been one for difficult emotions. She starts laughing, giggling at first and he’s looking at her like she is unstable and insane and she’s choking on how insane this all is and how did they find each other.

“We are,” she breaks off, interrupted by another chain of giggles, “We are quite a pair, Malfoy. However did we find each other?”

Nothing else needs to be said. They find comfort in the unspoken: touches, eye contact, acts of kindness, protectiveness. They don’t need to talk about things they desperately want to leave behind them.

“Well, Granger, I believe you burst into my compartment looking for a toad some years ago.”

“And you were an utter arse for the next 7 years.”

“And then you became obsessed with me. And of course I pitied you, so here we are,” he smirks, knowing he’s bought himself a thorough chastisement.

He doesn’t expect his witch to launch herself into his arms, to place her soft lips on his in a touch that says everything and nothing.

And their nightmares don’t define them. Maybe they’ll talk about them, maybe they won’t. They won’t let the darkness of before taint the dreams they have for the future. The dreams of something that might be, something that could be, some future that links them together.

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