#ALSO THE FIRST GUY I LIKED WAS ENGLAND AND HE IS BLONDE + GREEN EYES SO | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

meetmymouth · 4 years

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AUBADE ; HARRY STYLES

WORD COUNT: 12k

warnings: smut, smoking, alcohol consumption.

thank you @harryandhockey and @burberryharold for beta-ing this baby, you guys are the sweetest angels!

When the doorbell goes off for the third time that night, she groans and tosses the lipstick on her bed, then makes her way towards the door. Through the stained glass, she sees a tall figure and rolls her eyes.

“Look, this is the third time- oh. It’s you.”

The blonde raises her eyebrows, “Who were you expecting? Also wow, I feel so welcome, thank you.”

“Sorry,” the door closes behind Charlotte, and they walk inside.

Once in the tiny kitchen, kettle already on, she takes time to coat her eyelashes with mascara.

“Who did you think I was, that was quite the welcome.”

“Couple of girls kept knocking on the door. Something about a survey. I’ve no idea. Hey, can you help me put this on?” She takes a necklace out of her jean pocket and hands it over.

It’s Thursday, which means happy hour at their local pub and after that, they’d take N31 towards Camden to listen to a friend of Charlotte’s, an upcoming indie artist. She usually didn’t like going out on weekdays since she worked 8 to 4 and she would need to wake up at 6AM sharp to get ready and leave her flat for her Friday shift. But ever since Charlotte started working for the touring musician Harry Styles, they saw each other twice- once when they toured England and the second one being right before Charlotte left for tour. Being close friends since school, it was safe to say that she felt her absence and missed her friend dearly but were also so proud of her for everything she’d achieved.

So when Charlotte came home during their break, she wanted to spend as much time as possible with her friend and if it meant spending her Friday shift hungover while cleaning up animal urine and puke from all kinds of animals, then so be it.

“There,” Charlotte pats her on the neck after she clasps the necklace and she turns around, hand reaching to turn the kettle off.

“Ta. When are we leaving? And do you think I should go for my Adidas or the boots?” She points at the heeled boots, half white half black by the kitchen entrance and Charlotte follows her gaze as she sips the hot beverage.

She looks at the boots, then her, then the boots again, “The boots for fuckin’ sure. They’re sick- where’d you get them?”

“Depop,” She lets out a chuckle, “Think they’re Topshop, ‘m not sure. Should we leave? Y’know I walk dead slow and now that I’m wearin’ the boots…”

“You really do...go get your shit, I’ll wash this.”

They’re gathered around a round table, the green paint of the wooden table beginning to chip, and everyone’s got drinks of their own, G&T being the most popular choice. There are only five of them, Charlotte, her, Phoebe and her girlfriend Jamie, and they’re chatting about anything and everything until Charlotte turns to her, straw between her red lips.

“So-”

“Oh dear, what have you done,” she cuts her off and earns a glare from her, and from the corner of her eye, she sees Phoebe and Jamie cross their arms as if they’re getting ready for their usual bickering.

“Fuck you,” Charlotte sighs, “I didn’t do anything. I just invited some more people to Julien’s show and wanted to...kinda ask if that’s alright with you”

“Oh,” she looks around the table, finding the other girls looking at their phones and she turns to Charlotte, “It’s fine. Who are they?”

Phoebe snorts at that and her eyebrows raise in question. She gives Phoebe a look, but Charlotte’s quicker as she throws a damp tissue at the blonde and Jamie laughs when it lands back on Charlotte’s lap. “You know Sarah from the band?”

“Oh, yeah!”

She remembers meeting Sarah at Charlotte’s new flat after she moved to London, the brunette bringing a cute snake plant and a weird- but cute tea set as a housewarming gift and they got on well. They talked about plants, Sarah giving her tips on how to keep certain plants alive, and she asked her lots of questions about her experience being a woman, especially a drummer in the music industry. Sarah was very soft spoken; she spoke as if she was talking to a baby, but she always made sure to maintain eye contact when she was having a conversation with you, listening and nodding when appropriate so that you felt special and...understood. She was lovely, which was why she found it weird how Charlotte was acting awkward about her joining them tonight.

“And her boyfriend, Mitch, of course,” Charlotte adds and she nods, motioning for her to keep going. “And Harry.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Oh boy,” Jamie whistles.

“Obviously,” Charlotte sucks on her straw, slurping her drink, “Yeah, him,” she repeats, this time softer.

“I...why?” She chooses to ask, surprised as she’d like to think Harry Styles as this unreachable, ever-so-busy person who wouldn’t be interested in a night out like this. She turns to Phoebe, and then Jamie, and they respond with a shrug as Phoebe goes back to cuddling into Jamie’s side.

“What do you mean why?” Charlotte places her drink on the table, “It would be rude not to since I asked Sarah and Mitch.”

“Well, I just mean, isn’t he busy?”

Jamie whistles again and sings her name, “You got a crush, babes?”

“Nonsense, never even met the guy- which,” she looks around the table, “-is one of the reasons why I was confused. Anyway, it doesn't matter,” she shrugs and turns to Charlotte, “I’m not bothered, Lotts, it’s totally fine.”

“Y’sure?”

She gives her a nod, “I just find him intimidating and don’t think he’d be into indie, that’s all.”

It was true. Despite having not met Mr. Harry Styles, deep down she knew he’d be intimidating because he was so good looking and well, just like most people, she loved One Direction. She was a big fan, she even got told off by her stepmother once when she was younger because apparently the tape she used to hang her One Direction posters was ruining the walls. She often referred to them as twinks, and she didn’t even know what it meant until she was older. She remembers how she got made fun of at sixth form because one of the girls found her old Tumblr and told everyone about it. Harry’s never been her favourite though. Not because she didn’t find him attractive, not at all. It was because he was too attractive and was everyone’s favourite so whenever asked, she’d shrug and tell people how she found Louis funny, and then Zayn because ’he’s the hottest’.

Long story short, despite her friendship with Charlotte, she’d never met Harry, never had the opportunity to attend one of his shows because she was either too busy or they were playing in a different country and she simply couldn’t afford it. So tonight would be the first time they’d get to be in the same place and to say that she was nervous would be an understatement. And her, she always thought she was awkward. Way too awkward for social gatherings but she liked going out regardless, drinking cheap alcohol and dancing to shitty songs in an equally shitty pub. She loved being a student. Loved the freedom the title had given her. What’s your occupation, she’d get asked from time to time. Student, she’d say without hesitating. She was a student. She didn’t have to be anything else for three years. Sure, she was also working part time at an animal shelter but for the most part, she loved being a student. That’s how she met Phoebe, and then Jamie. In a way, she was their matchmaker.

She remembers meeting Phoebe last year when they had a class together. She was the first person to smile at her in the overcrowded lecture theatre and she remembers thinking how nice Phoebe’s green fringe looked. Meeting Jamie though, was funny. Phoebe usually got weird when they joked about it since she met Jamie before Phoebe did on Tinder, even went on a date with her, and then right before she was about to ghost her, she thought of how similar Phoebe and Jamie were. It was then that she made Phoebe go on a date with Jamie, and after a month of pining, they got together. Even though they were similar, she always thought that they actually completed each other, Jamie being the logical one and Phoebe encouraging Jamie to let loose from time to time and live in the moment.

Charlotte reaches and boops her nose, “He’s a musician, he loves all kinds of music. He won’t eat you, babe. He’s nice, I promise.”

Phoebe knocks on the wood, getting everyone’s attention, “Can we get a picture with him? An autograph?”

She feels a throbbing pain in her feet, toes in particular once they’re in and they wait for Phoebe and Jamie to buy their drinks, knowing she’d wake up with blisters in the morning. Charlotte takes out her phone and presumably texts the others, letting them know they were already here. She felt nervous. Nervous because she always thought she was rubbish when it came to meeting new people; they either thought she was too intimidating or rude but in reality, it was only because she always felt anxious meeting new people and would rather stay quiet than talking nonsense.

She takes time to analyse her outfit, a pair of black mom jeans and her boots, oh the boots who were currently grilling her feet. Then she tries to adjust her lace bodysuit, all of a sudden feeling super self conscious about the ”revealing” outfit. She adjusts the top, hoping her tits weren’t out before, and sighs when she touches the oversized blazer, rolling up the sleeves a bit more since it was beginning to get warm, too warm for her liking inside. Considering how she often felt self conscious about her arms, she felt more comfortable with the blazer over the sexy bodysuit.

“So,” she starts, eyes studying the crowded bar before her gaze stops at Charlotte, “Are they here?”

Charlotte looks up from her phone and nods, leaning her head on her shoulder. She feels her arm going around her waist and smiles, nudging her head with hers and she looks up, giving her a smile of her own. “What’s up, blondie?” she asks, hand coming up to ruffle Charlotte’s fringe.

She sighs, “Just tired, to be honest. I’m glad I wore trainers.”

“At least one of us is happy about their shoe choice.”

They watch as Phoebe and Jamie walk towards them, the brunette handing her a tall glass as Phoebe hands Charlotte her own drink. “When’s she on?”

Everyone turns to Charlotte, “Half an hour, maybe?”

“When are your friends coming? It’s getting quite...stuffy in here,” Jamie looks around and Phoebe nods, hands going around Jamie’s waist to pull the brunette into her.

“I texted Sarah and she said Harry was parking the car- oh, I see Mitch.”

They all look around, and she spots the tall guy with long hair, walking towards them with Sarah and Harry behind. She gulps and tries to look away, praying that no one takes notice of her sweaty forehead and shaky hands.

As the trio walk towards them, she takes a moment to examine Harry, and his outfit. Even in the dimly lit bar, she’s almost sure the high waisted trousers he has on are navy, and he’s got a tan...or a beige shirt tucked in them, chest on full display and she notices a cross necklace, looking as if it was made for his pretty neck. She clears her throat as quietly as she can and looks down but not before she takes a peek at his shoes, and she almost snorts at the choice of red boots he’s got on, noticing how everyone had trainers on while the two of them had what looked like very uncomfortable boots on.

To be honest, she thinks, he looks pretty good. She looks around them, noticing how most guys had jeans and ugly trainers on whereas Harry looked like he made quite the effort with his outfit but she also knows that even if he turned up in jeans and ugly trainers, he would still look amazing. Damn Harry Styles. Was she blushing?

The three of them are in their space now, close enough so she can make out Sarah’s overpowering perfume, and she clears her throat once again when Charlotte embraces Sarah first, then Mitch. Before she can watch her hug Harry, Sarah’s in front of her.

“Hi,” she smiles, going in for a hug, “It’s so nice to see you again. It’s been a while,” she says and her voice comes out muffled since they’re still hugging and she hopes her hair smells decent because Sarah’s face is pressed against her neck and hair.

“It’s nice to see you too! How have you been?”

“‘Been alright, I suppose!” She beams at her and turns to the man with long hair, “This is Mitch.”

As Sarah introduces everyone with Mitch, she feels Harry’s eyes on her, though she can’t turn her head and meet his gaze because that’d be rude seeing how Mitch is about to reach and give her a one armed hug. Alright then, she thinks, they’re a hugger. Then, it’s Harry’s turn. She looks at him, seeing how his eyes are focused on Phoebe and Jamie as he gives them both a warm smile before Charlotte starts talking again, introducing everyone to Phoebe and Jamie, then everyone turns to her, and she feels her face heat up seeing how everyone’s attention is on her now. She knows it’s her turn.

Harry takes a step forward and her earlier thoughts are confirmed when she can finally make out the colour of his trousers. “Hey, ‘m Harry,” he gives her a smile without waiting for Charlotte to speak, “Nice meeting you,” he comes closer and wraps an arm around her, engulfing her in a hug but it’s definitely different from Mitch or Sarah’s hug. It’s tight, much warmer and he’s got both arms around her, palms flat against her back as he rubs her back.

And of course she responds with the same warmness and hugs him back, “Hiya,” she introduces herself, and once they pull apart, he repeats her name and it sounds like poetry, something so personal and...erotic. But maybe, she thinks, maybe it’s just his deep voice making her feel that way.

Despite the moment they shared, if she could call it that, felt like hours, it was merely a minute. And it wasn’t like in the films where they hug, everything around them slowing down as the people watch in awe. No, not at all. When she looks around, she sees that everyone’s been already mingling, Phoebe and Jamie smiling at each other while they sipped their drinks, and Mitch is nowhere to be seen, possibly at the bar getting drinks.

Harry turns to Charlotte with a grin, “So is she any good, should we replace you with her?” He says, nudging her with his hip.

That sort of makes her smile, seeing Harry so carefree and friendly with the people who are essentially working for him. Even though she doesn’t know Harry Styles like they do, like Charlotte does, she knows he considers these people to be his friends and colleagues rather than his employees. It’s also fun seeing him this friendly with her best friend, and she feels proud, as she always does, knowing Charlotte has made herself great friends and that she clearly enjoys working with these people.

Charlotte nudges him back, “She’s great, I wouldn’t mind being replaced by her. Oh, there she is,” she points at the stage, and everyone turns to look at the pink-haired girl on the tiny stage with a sleek looking acoustic guitar on her side. As the others start talking about Julien, she finally takes the opportunity to look at Harry. Once their eyes meet, he gives her a smile, dimples on full display, and she swears she could see him blush when he looks down after she beamed at him. Even if he did blush though, he recovers quickly when he’s offered a drink and he mutters a thank you to Mitch, then lifts the slice of lime off the rim of his glass and sucks it into his mouth and she deems it as a good time to look away.

And she does, when she feels Sarah close, and she turns to her, Sarah welcoming her with a smile, “How’s uni? It’s your last year, right?”

“Oh, yeah,” she clears her throat, “It’s alright. Exhausting, but alright.”

“You’re working too, right?”

“Yeah, I work at an animal shelter.”

“It must be exhausting.”

“It is,” she gives her a nod, “I work three days a week and I also have classes so I only have Sundays off. I’ll probably leave and focus on uni after Christmas break though, I have my dissertation next semester.”

“Oh, cool! I miss being a student,” she purses her lips and turns to Harry, who had been listening to their conversation, his pretty fingers, most of them adorned with equally pretty rings, wrapped around the tall glass, “You probably can’t relate, H, can ya?”

He rolls her eyes but laughs regardless, “Piss off.”

Despite the chatter around them, it’s not ridiculously loud so they can carry a conversation without having to shout. They fall into an easy conversation, everyone joining in, and all of a sudden a pink neon light falls over them and they all turn to the stage. Julien starts singing, and all the chatter around them dies down, some people already starting to sing the words back at her.

She looks away from the stage for a minute and catches Harry’s gaze from across the room. They’re close enough for her to make out a few droplets of sweat on Harry’s forehead, and their eyes meet as he gives her a smile, eyes sparkling with mischief, then brings the glass up to his mouth. She watches as his top lip rests on the rim before he lifts it to his mouth and when she looks up, she sees him still looking at, gaze unwavering and mouth curled upwards in a sly smirk. She was caught. She was caught and he looked like he was loving and devouring every second of it.

Julien takes a break, promising to come back with a brand new song from her upcoming EP, and there’s a group of people making their way towards the exit, presumably to have a smoke and get some fresh air.

“Where’s she gone?” Charlotte huffs, eyes searching the room for the pink haired girl.

“She’s over there,” Phoebe points at Julien and they all turn to where she’s pointing at, spotting Julien near the bar with a drink in hand.

“Is she flirting?”

“She’s got groupies already?” she says after she takes her eyes off of Harry and everyone laughs.

Charlotte comes closer and nudges her shoulder against her, “You’d know, wouldn’t you?” “Be quiet,” she nudges back, and their group falls back into their conversation except Harry, who keeps staring at her and she gulps, hands reaching to feel her blazer pockets.

“Right,” she mutters, “It’s time to poison myself. I’m going out for a fag,” once she feels the bulge in her pocket, she turns to Charlotte, “Send me a text when she’s back on, yeah?”

“I’ll come with.”

She looks up at Harry, surprised, but nods, waiting for him to follow her outside. Even though she tries her best not to make eye contact with anyone as they leave, she’s aware of them watching them, everyone in their group equally surprised, but they keep walking, Harry following quietly behind. Once they pass the smelly bodies, they’re finally outside, the wind licking her face once she steps out and she tries to hug herself closer, seeing how the thin blazer’s not doing a good job at keeping her warm.

Harry wishes he’d brought a coat.

They’re quiet as he follows her to a quiet corner, only a few people turning their heads their way, presumably recognising him, and they stop near a brick wall and she takes her tobacco out of her left pocket. She looks up, catching him staring at her ring-clad fingers wrapped around the dark green packet, and she clears her throat, making him look up at her. They share a smile, both feeling at ease with the comfortable silence between them. She spots a wooden bench near and sits down, hands already working the packet open. When she starts tearing the tobacco apart, Harry can’t help but note how quickly she’s working it between her fingers, and he’s almost certain she’s been doing this for years.

“Want one?” She asks and he saunters forward, coming to stand in front of her with hands in his pockets.

He shrugs and she takes that as a yes, fingers pausing their work on the tobacco to take out something that resembles a cigarette and it’s only when she pushes it from the bottom that Harry realises they’re filters. Placing one between her lips, her fingers dip into her pocket once again to retrieve some papers and Harry finds himself unable to look away from her lips and how pretty they look with something between them.

He looks down at her lap, where the packet of tobacco is, seeing her fingers work swiftly as she fills the thin paper, and despite knowing better not to glamorise something as horrible and disgusting as smoking, he takes his time to admire the way she pushes down the tobacco with her index finger, presumably trying to fit and secure everything inside the paper. Taking the filter from between her lips, she places it inside the paper, at the very end, and her fingers start rolling.

Oh fuck, he thinks, knowing what’s about to come. Unable to look away, he watches as she brings it up to her mouth and licks a long stripe along the paper, and despite the lack of lighting around them, his eyes make out her pink tongue moving along the paper and it doesn’t come as a surprise when he feels a sudden twitch in his trousers at the unholy image before his eyes.

“There,” she hands him the rolled up cigarette, “Hope you don’t mind that I licked?”

He wants to laugh because of course he doesn’t mind. In fact, he quite enjoyed it, according to the knot in his stomach and his twitching cock in his underwear. He enjoyed it so much that he now couldn’t stop imagining her mouth doing other things, preferably dirty things with, or to him.

“Nah, it’s all good, thanks.”

“No probs. Didn’t take you as the smoking type,” she lets it slip out.

“I...don’t smoke, really. Only sometimes. When I’m drinking. Which…” He looks at the cigarette between her fingers, “...isn’t that often.”

She notices the nervousness that tinges his words, and it makes her feel better knowing he’s also as awkward as her. “Fair,” she sends him a smile and repeats all the steps on her own rollie, putting it between her lips just like Harry, and she takes her lighter out of the same pocket. She lights her own first and reaches to light his, and he sort of bends over until his cigarette reaches the lighter. They both take a hefty drag of their cigarettes and she blows the smoke out first, Harry watching her pursed lips as he lets out his own next, both of their cigarette smoke swirling in the air and joining in together.

He takes it out of his mouth and lets his arm dangle on his side, cigarette between his fingers, and watches as she takes another drag before fumbling with the packet on her lap, putting everything back in her pocket haphazardly.

“Do you go to uni in London, or?”

“Westminster, yeah,” she takes another drag and notices how Harry hasn’t taken another one of his since.

“Nice,” he says and a grin stretches over his face, “Charlotte talks about you a lot.”

“She does?”

“Yeah, all the time. If I didn’t know about her boyfriend I’d say she was in love with you,” he laughs and gestured to the lighter in her hand and she lets him take the lighter from her hand, watching as the flame lick at the cigarette between Harry’s lip and he takes a long drag. “I mean, we...the band feel like we already know you. It’s sweet, how much she cares about you.”

“Well, I’m pretty hard not to love, you know.”

He blows out the smoke, a chuckle escaping his mouth, “That right?”

“Yeah, I’m fucking great.”

“Well, I-”

He gets interrupted by her phone going off and a pout forms on his face. She huffs, looking around, then throws the cigarette on the ground despite the sign and he does the same, not feeling bad in the slightest. “We going in?” He asks, like a lost puppy waiting for his owner’s command.

“I guess. Is it bad that I don’t want to? Like...does that make me a bad friend?”

“Nah. I...I kinda wanted to stay here too. I was enjoying our conversation.”

She sends him a grin, eyes mischievous, and stops walking, “You telling me you weren’t bored to death by my dry ass conversation?”

“Dry? You opened up and talked about your narcissistic behaviours, that’s not boring, darling,” he smirks and she rolls her eyes, hand reaching to slap his chest and it feels easy, like they’ve known each other for years. “Alright, alright, ’m just messing with you.”

She starts walking again, a few steps ahead of him, and he follows, passing three girls with phones up to their faces.

It’s easy, he thinks, it’s easy with her.

People in the bar begin to leave one by one, and it’s only their small group and a few others left, some of them still sipping their drinks and the others talking and laughing. Some even come up to Julien, who’s sipping her water from a reusable water bottle as Charlotte keeps snapping pictures of her, and they all congratulate her, telling her how excited they are about the EP. She’s all smiles, fringe sticking to her forehead due to sweat, and her long arms are equally sweaty, dressed in a tight black dress with striped knee high socks adorning her long legs, and a pair of platform Mary Janes.

“So,” Harry says, folding his arms across his chest, “Do you have any plans for October?”

Mitch snorts across him and Julien tilts her head, puzzled, “Erm...I’ve no idea, to be honest. It’s months away and God knows I’m shite at thinking ahead. That’s why I’m friends with this lot,” she gestures to their tiny group, causing Charlotte to snort and Julien continues, turning her attention to her who’s playing with the hem of her blazer, “This one though...”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“Oi, what’s crawled up your bum, eh?” Julien turns to Harry again, catching how his gaze flickered over her body, then her face instead of looking at Julien and she finds herself smirking at the tension between the two.

“We’re thinking of putting a show together for Halloween. I have a bunch of new and upcoming artists in my mind that I’d love to see perform that night. Would you be interested?” Harry’s attention is back on Julien and he watches as the girl gasps, eyes widening in excitement.

“Shut the fuck up!” She yells, almost dropping her water bottle and they all laugh, Charlotte reaching to flip her on the forehead and she slaps her freshly-manicured hand away, “You’re not taking the piss, are you?”

Harry laughs, “Am definitely not. I love your vibe. That’s actually one of the reasons why I asked Charlotte if I could come tonight,” he says as he runs his fingers through his hair, the strands gliding easily between his long fingers.

“Yeah,” Charlotte smiles at Julien, “He’s on a hunt. He thinks he’s one of those talent agents. Just say yes, Jules, it’ll be fun.”

“Holy fuck. Yes. Fuck, yes. Of fucking course, yes!”

They all laugh when she lunges herself at Harry, arms wrapping around his neck, “Thank you, thank you, thank you, fuck I could literally kiss you right now but I won’t, I’ve been watching you both undress each other with your eyes all night,” arms still around Harry’s neck, Julien turns her head towards her, whom Harry’s been looking at all night, and gives her a wink before breaking their hug. “So, do I have to do anything? What do I have to do? Fuck, I’m so bad at this-”

“Hey,” Harry interrupts, “It’s fine. Relax. Are you signed with anyone? Have a manager?”

“Oh, yeah, I’m with Gleam, my manager, Alana, she’s sick that’s why she wasn't here tonight.”

“Okay, that’s fine. Just give me your phone number and your manager’s contact details and we’ll sort everything out. Hey- relax, it’s gonna be fun!” He reaches and gives her shoulder a squeeze.

“I called an Uber,” Sarah says after her phone goes off, “And it looks like…” she taps on the screen a few times, “Hassan is here.”

“We could’ve gotten maccies,” she says, pouting, as her head rests on Charlotte’s shoulder.

Sarah sighs, cuddling closer into Mitch’s side, “We’re leaving for Brighton tomorrow morning.”

“Yeah, Sarah’s making us wake up at, like, five,” Mitch grumbles.

They all start walking towards the exit, Julien and Harry in the back talking about the show as Charlotte links her arm with her as they follow behind the others. As they walk, she remembers how Harry arrived with Sarah and Mitch, meaning they shared a ride, and she turns to look at Harry who seems to be in deep conversation as he waves his hands around.

She feels hot all of a sudden, remembering how neither of them wanted to go inside earlier, how good he looked and how his voice sounded, deep, so deep, when his attention was only on her and not the girl on the stage or his drink or the people around them. As selfish as it sounds, she wanted all his attention on her, she wanted him to only look at her, see her, think of her, and she feels foolish because they only met tonight, and their conversation earlier didn’t last that long.

Once they’re outside, everyone sighs, almost in relief as the fresh air fills their lungs, and everyone bids their goodbyes to Sarah and Mitch, then Phoebe starts complaining about how uncomfortable and tired she was.

“That’s it from us, folks, my wife needs a shower,” Jamie pinches Phoebe’s cheek as Phoebe blushes, swatting her hand away.

She turns to Harry for a second and he’s just standing there, arms folded with an expression she’s unable to read, and Julien laughs, muttering something about catching a black cab since she now has money to waste.

Everyone leaves and it’s only them, and Charlotte comes closer to her as she nudges her hip with hers, “Hey. Is it cool if Harry gives you a ride? Tom’s picking me up.”

She panics and gives her a puzzled look. A car ride with Harry. Alone. Just the two of them.

She swallows, “How come you never mention it?”

“He just texted me, we’re driving up to Manc. Will you be okay?” She reaches and strokes her cheek, then turns to Harry, as if the question was directed at both of them.

“Well, yeah...I mean- I’ll call a Bolt or something-”

“It’s fine, I can give you a ride,” Harry says, hands now in his pockets. He looks like he’s cold too, considering how he’s only wearing a thin shirt and his chest is on full display, letting the breeze softly lick at the flesh.

“I wouldn’t want to be a bother, I can take a Bolt. Really, it’s fine.”

“I insist...whereabouts is your place?”

“Ehm,” she sniffs and her eyes look for Charlotte for a moment, and when she spots her, she’s watching them despite the phone pressed against her ear. “Marylebone.”

“Great! That alright with you?”

She looks at Charlotte again, the short haired girl failing to meet her gaze, and she turns to Harry again, lips pursed, “I guess- I mean...sure. Okay.”

Harry beams at that, the dimple on his left cheek widening with the smile, and she wants to reach out and touch it, place her finger there. She doesn’t though. Instead, she gives him a smile and looks down at her boots, feeling all giddy inside with the realisation that she’d be alone with Harry for a while and it would also be away from any prying eyes, in the warmth of his car.

Charlotte comes back and reaches for her, giving her a big hug as she buries her head in her neck, and she involuntarily breathes in the smell of cigarettes and Charlotte’s personal favourite, Chanel no. 5.

“Text me when you’re home, yeah? And text me if you need anything...he’s nice, I promise,” she whispers the last part, as if she’s letting her in on a secret, then reaches for Harry to give him a hug.

“Drive safe,” she says, walking backwards, “I mean it.”

“I will. Precious cargo, am I right?”

Harry opens the door for her and waits for her to get in, her lips form the words ‘thank you’, and once they’re both inside, seatbelts on, Harry sighs and tries to fix his creased shirt. She watches his hands, the rings catching the light coming from a lamppost outside, creating beams, and she notices the single, nearly-chipped gold nail polish on his left pinky.

“So…” they both say at the same time and he laughs, shaking his head, and a few strands fall to his eyes.

She chuckles too, eyes falling to her hands on her lap as she fiddles with them. “I think we’ve been set up,” she mumbles and looks up at him, finding him watching her carefully with one hand on the steering wheel and the other on his thigh.

“Yeah? You think so?”

“Oh, yeah. I’m usually not this dumb.”

“Maybe you wanted play dumb, hm?” He gives her a smile, causing her to scoff, and he surprises them both when his left hand reaches to stroke her cheek, making goosebumps appear on her skin and she swears she could hear her breath hitch at the warm touch, feeling hot all over.

They stare at each other, his hand still on her cheek, and she swallows, “Sure, whatever you say.”

“Is this okay?” He asks, gesturing at the touch, voice as soft and smooth as honey.

She nods, because it is. It is more than okay and if it were up to her, they’d already be kissing, tasting each other’s dirty, sweaty skin and touching each other all over, feeling each other’s bodies...she wanted all of that.

She swallows again, his gaze shifting from her face to her neck, then lower and lower until it reaches her boobs. They look divine, he thinks, despite the lack of lighting in his car, they look absolutely gorgeous, sort of spilling out from the lace material and he gulps, hand beginning to make its way down to her neck. He rests it there as long fingers caress the side of her neck, discovering a few moles there, and he looks up at her, only to find her eyes fixed on his lap. He looks down to, the slight tent not coming as a surprise, and he gives her a grin, the other hand coming to rest atop his bulge.

“Hm?” He hums as he waits for her answer despite knowing what she would say.

She clears her throat and looks around, seeing the almost empty parking lot all dark except the stop sign near the exit, and turns her attention back to Harry.

“Yes. It’s okay.”

“Mmm,” his fingers curl around her throat, thumb stroking the flesh there, “Thank you, love. Can I kiss you?”

“You can...Please,” she practically moans when his thumb presses a sweet spot on her neck and he gives her a smile, hand reaching to unbuckle both of their seatbelts with a click.

It doesn’t happen that fast. First, he gives her a look, almost as if he’s trying to remember where her lips are and the nose, then her eyes...he keeps looking, and looking, and he brings his hand up to her mouth, resting his thumb on her bottom lip as her eyes shift downwards with the movement. While he watches her, she takes her time to watch him, his face, and she feels something bubbling inside her, much like the bubbles that rise to the top when you open a coke bottle.

Pressure, she thinks, pressure and the need to devour him. Thus, without thinking too much, she reaches and grabs him by the nape of his neck, his hand falling atop the car seat as their lips meet, both of them hungry for each other’s touch as their teeth clash and Harry lets out a hiss when she bites his bottom lip, suckining it into her mouth.

His hands go up to her cheeks, pushing her far enough to look into her face and eyes in particular and he smiles, the inside of his palms feeling the soft peach fuzz on her face. When she lunges forward to continue their kiss, he stops her, thumb stroking her cheekbones as she lets out a huff, and he chuckles, “Slow, baby, slow. We’ve got time. I want to feel you, taste you as much as I can, yeah?”

She nods, letting him stroke the side of her face some more and feel her skin against his soft hands before he starts leaning in, this time slow, so slow that it feels like hours to her. Before she closes her eyes, she catches a glimpse of his pink tongue dart out to lick his lips, and he finally captures her top lip, sucking it into his mouth softly and she melts under his touch, her mouth pursed as she starts responding with her own kisses. Their lips, she feels, fit together like a puzzle piece.

Harry’s tongue swipes across her bottom lip and she opens wider, letting him lick into her mouth further. It’s hot, wet, and she feels herself getting wetter and wetter as the smooch noises grow louder with each kiss. His hands are now cupping both of her cheeks, and as he presses wet pecks on her parted mouth, one of his thumbs travel down to her mouth and he stops their kiss, and she opens her eyes, giving him a puzzled look.

He shushes her, lips pursed as he does so, and her eyes watches the movement, wanting to feel them all over her body now that she knows how he feels and tastes like. He presses his thumb against her bottom lip, then into her mouth and pulls her closer to him. He shuts his eyes and tilts his head when she closes her mouth around his thumb, sucking it like a lolly, and his cock twitches in his trousers again as he watches the way she sucks on his flesh, humming around it as if she’s having the most delicious meal of her life.

“Fuck, baby,” he rasps, “Y’like playing with me, don’t you?”

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she takes his thumb out of her mouth with a pop and she holds him by the wrist, placing his hand on one of her boobs and Harry lets her warm hands and the feeling of lace overpower him as he gives her boob a squeeze, then travels his hand down to where he supposes her nipple is and brushes a thumb over it, a beaming grin stretching across his face when he feels her pebbled nipple under his thumb.

When he looks at her face, she’s biting her lips, eyes shut, and he bites his own lips as he traps her covered nipple between his thumb and index finger, tweaking it gently which causes her to breathe out a moan, toes curling involuntarily inside her boots. He tugs at it, then his hand travels up and he looks at her, as if to ask her permission for what he’s about to do. And she nods, of course she does, and she feels her upper torso getting sore from the position they’ve been in but she lets it go, reaching for his hand near her boob and places it on top of his, encouraging him to keep going.

With her hand on top of his, he slides the bodysuit down from the top, and he feels his cock twitch in interest so he has to bring his other hand down to press against his bulge over his trousers in hopes of relieving some of the tension. He plays with her nipple, tweaking and squeezing it between his fingers before finally leaning to capture the pebbled nipple into his mouth. “God damn, your tits...so fuckin’ hot, baby,” he bites her nipple and she shudders, back arching in pleasure. “Wanna do everything with you...wanna fuck you- wanna fuck these tits,” he whispers against her nipple, now wet with his spit, and his hot breath sends chills down her spine.

It’s warm, his mouth, so warm and wet around her hard nipples and she lets out another moan, arms wrapping around his neck and she tries to press against him closer. “Fuck,” a moan leaver her mouth, “Please, Harry, fuck me. Do something, just- ‘m so wet.”

“Yeah? Want me to fuck you? Jesus,” he presses a kiss to her nipple before he frees her other boob from the fabric, “You’re so fuckin’ hot. Got me so fuckin’ hard, just look at these gorgeous tits, baby. Bet your cunt’s even more gorgeous, hm?” He whispers, hands already on the other boob, squeezing the nipple and he watches as it hardens, looking so pretty and puckered for him and he gets his mouth on that one too, licking across the nipple before he bites it into his mouth.

“Can I take this off, sweetheart?” He touches her shoulder, squeezing her there over the blazer, and when he sees the hesitation in her eyes, he travels his hand up to her neck and strokes it there, “Y’don’t have to, darling. However you’re comfortable.”

“No,” she says ever so softly, “It’s okay.”

He smiles at her as she takes the jacket off and throws it somewhere at her feet. Harry grabs her by the neck and brings her in for another kiss but this time, it’s slow. And sweet. Slow, sweet, and warm, so warm that she feels it in her chest, in her stomach, and it reaches everywhere, the kiss warming anything and everything inside her. He swipes a tongue across her bottom lip before pulling away, and places both hands on her boobs, squeezing them, mouth popping open as he watches them in awe.

“Fuckin’ hell,” he brings one of his hands to the front of his trousers and the heels of his palms press against the bulge, but instead of giving him some relief, the touch makes him hiss, wishing for something softer, warmer.

“Can I fuck you? I need to fuck you, please, sweetheart,” he whispers and she nods, tongue darting out to lick her dry lips and he nods as well, looking around inside the car, swiftly examining the tinted black windows before he turns to her, “I hate that I’m about to fuck that pretty pussy in the backseat of my car instead of a comfortable bed but I need it so bad, sweetheart, I need you,” he licks his lips, “That okay?”

“Yes...more than.”

He helps her move to the backseat, boobs still hanging from the top, and he joins her in the backseat quickly. They’re closer now, nothing serving as a barrier between them, and with the way they’re facing each other, she can make out a tiny pimple on the side of his nose as well as a little mole on his forehead. Her gaze falls to his bulge again, and he’s already fumbling to get them off. With a swallow, she shuts her eyes so she doesn’t see Harry watching her intently, dilated pupils fixated on her sweaty skin, her lips in particular.

He leans in and presses an open mouth kiss to her damp skin, the touch making her open her eyes.

Take it off” she whispers, voice as sweet as honey, “Come on, I want you to fuck me,” she breathes against his hair, his head now in the crook of her neck, and she feels him nod, his hands coming to rest atop hers.

He fumbles with the button with shaky hands, her hands coming to rest on Harry’s waist and he sighs in relief when he hears the zipper. He lowers his trousers along with his underwear clumsily, the pile of material pooling around his ankles. He’s hard and leaking already, the tip an angry shade of red, and she takes a few seconds to admire the thickness of his cock and how pretty it looks, his dark, coarse pubic hair making her mouth water as she imagines deepthroating him, nuzzling the hair at the base of his cock.

Harry looks up and she’s got one hand on her boob while the other rubs herself through her jeans, presumably feeling aroused with the way the fabric is feeling against her pussy. A low, choked ‘fuck’ leaves his mouth following a growl as his long fingers begin unbuttoning the beige shirt and she watches, bottom lip trapped between her teeth with fingers rubbing herself.

Once it’s unbuttoned, he’s quick to get his hands on her jeans, eyes briefly searching for something in hers before he starts unbuttoning them. She stops him and bends over to take her boots off and he watches her back, hand reaching involuntarily to travel his fingers down her spine, stroking her waist before he bends forward to place a kiss on there as she keeps fumbling with her boots. Once they’re off, he’s quick to help her get the jeans off too, and he throws them in the front seat, smiling when she hears her giggle.

“Alright, Miss Giggles?” he says softly, palm resting on top of her thigh as one of his hands reaches and strokes the side of her face, fingers playing in her wild strands of hair.

She bites her lip again, giving him a nod, and he brings her face into his, lips pressing a tender kiss to her chin before he opens his mouth slightly and grazes his teeth across the flesh, and he presses a final, loud kiss there before he pulls away with a pop, leaving her chin all shiny and wet with his saliva. He lowers his eyes and spots her thong, fabric too tiny and flimsy to cover all the areas of her pussy, and he lets out a groan at the sight, hand immediately reaching to touch what’s under her little thong.

“So pretty, darling...so, so pretty,” he murmurs and she watches with parted legs as he positions his middle finger against her pussy over the black lace, thin, so he feels just how warm and wet she is between her folds. This makes him pause to look down at his cock, just to make sure he’s not about to spill all over the carseat since he feels the pleasure at the tip of his cock, ready to explode right then and there. “How can anyone ever resist you, hm? This pretty girl…” with one hand still between her legs, he reaches with his other hand and ghosts his thumb over her nipple, his other hand working her thong as he pulls it to the side, “...this pretty pussy,” he murmurs, making her eyes lull shut at the compliments.

She parts her legs wider to give him more room to work with, and he grins as he looks up at her hungry eyes, knowing what she’s asking for. And god, is he about to give her what she wants. The way she looks, not just half naked but from the moment he’d caught a glimpse of the grumpy girl across the room, it’s been driving him insane. Not that she was rude or looked bored, but she looked cute, kinda nervous, as if she too was as uncomfortable as Harry by the prying eyes and tipsy chatter around them.

From the moment they were introduced, Harry knew she didn’t particularly like to be looked at. Maybe he was being judgmental, or reading too much into things, but he got the impression that she was sort of nervous to be around people, especially new people. He tried his hardest not to be some weirdo, an utter creep who kept looking at the beautiful girl across him but truth be told, it wasn’t the first time Harry had seen the girl’s face.

He knew of her, stories about her, from Charlotte, and saw numerous photos and throwback videos of them on Charlotte’s Instagram, but he would never actually admit to the fact that he’d clicked on her tag on one of Charlotte’s posts, and scrolled through her feed for hours, giggling from time to time at her silly captions and numerous pictures of a Golden Retriever and a black cat cuddling.

Yes, he might have found her interesting, took a few screenshots of her posts where she proudly displayed her favourite reads, immediately ordering everything on there, and a few funny memes, but now with his middle finger circling her clit, he would never, ever admit any of that to anyone, ever.

“Harry,” she breathes, and it sounds sort of harsh, rough even, the reason presumably being a mix of the cigarettes she’d been smoking and the way his finger teasingly, slowly moves over her pussy. “Harry…” she says again, melodiously, fingers curling around his wrist and he looks up with a grin, eyes almost evil, dark and pupils dilated from hunger bubbling up inside him.

He retracts his finger and brings it up to his mouth slowly, her eyes watching him like a hawk, and his pink tongue darts out, licking a long stripe up his middle finger and he truly devours the savoury taste, eyes finding hers as he sucks the finger into his mouth. “Taste so good, sweetheart,” he murmurs, “Want me to play with that beautiful cunt, hm? Give it my full attention?”

“Yes, please, I need it so bad, I’ve been waiting for so long.”

“Yeah?” He asks, ever so softly, “How long?” He presses, his middle finger once again placed between her wet folds, and she wraps her fingers around his wrist.

There’s a bloom of pleasure in her voice when she lets out a shaky breath, a stuttered ’yeah’ because she doesn’t want to give in to Harry’s teasing game, and he leans forward, capturing her chin with his mouth as he bites the flesh while the pads of his finger massages slow and deep over her swollen clit.

He feels the spongy bit under his touch, “Tell me you’ve been thinking of this too,” he breathes against her wet chin, then brings his middle finger down to her hole. It’s wet, so fucking wet when he drags his finger back up and circles her clit faster than before which makes her legs kick out in pleasure, one hand grabbing harshly at her boob as the other go up to Harry’s soft hair and she pulls, fingernails scratching his scalp while doing so. He groans against her skin and drags his finger down to her slick little hole again, circling around the wet, soft muscle and he pushes his finger in, her cunt making a wet, lovely sound as he does so as his eyes fall to his throbbing cock.

It’s so hard, an unpleasant feeling blooming inside, so he takes his finger out of her hole, making her let out a tiny whimper as she clenches around nothing with the sudden loss of his touch. Harry brings his finger up to his mouth, and his pink tongue darts out to lick, mouth closing around to devour the slightly salty slickness.

“Can I fuck you now?” He asks as his hand goes to stroke the side of her neck, goosebumps appearing immediately at the touch. She shudders, unable to respond and Harry’s voice is softer this time, “Can I, baby? Will you let me fuck your pretty pussy now? I need it so bad, sweetheart, so fucking bad. See how hard I am for you? So fucking hard for you, baby.”

“God,” another shaky breath, “Please, I’m so wet and horny- I need it, Harry, please.”

“Need my cock, yeah? Need me to fill that little hole? Stretch your tiny little hole, darling?”

“Fuck- please, I- please stop teasing me, I need it...please, fuck me.”

Harry feels something, a prickly sensation inside him, his groin tightening, and he knows it’s her dirty mouth and sweet face to blame. He looks down at his cock, hard as rock between his legs, and grabs her by the waist, pulling her on top of him with ease. “There, sweet girl.”

He lets out a hiss when her warm pussy makes contact with his cock and she bites her lip, leaning forward until their sweaty foreheads meet. “Your pussy’s so fuckin’ warm. Shit, we need condoms,” a strong arm wraps around her waist and she gasps when he leans forward so suddenly. His face is buried into her boobs as he tries to retrieve his wallet from one of the compartments in between and she watches him struggle, unable to control a tiny laugh escaping her mouth.

“Well,” Harry mumbles, warm lips making her skin feel all tingly, “This is lovely...mmm,” a few kisses are pressed between her boobs, then another open mouth one on her left nipple, and they’re finally back to their previous position, condom package between Harry’s lips as he rips the top, never once taking his eyes off of her while doing so.

“Ready for me?” He gives himself a few lazy pulls, thumbing at the tip while she watches, one hand kneading her boob. “Hm? Ready to take my cock?” He moves his hand slowly, up and down, causing her to swallow.

“Yeah...fuck yeah. Please, fuck me.”

He looks up at her as the rubber works its way down his cock, and she joins her arms around his neck, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck, and he brings his cock to her cunt, earning a moan from her, her warm breath licking at his face ever so softly. He grunts, voice strained with pleasure when he feels how warm and wet she is at the touch of his cock and slides it against her warmth before he brings it down to her tight little hole and pauses there.

“Y’ready, sweet girl?” He nudges their foreheads together and it’s sweet, so sweet despite the position they’re in, and she nods, feeling their damp foreheads stick together, and Harry gives her a bright smile, dimple appearing on his left cheek.

And he pushes it in. With his thumb pressed against the tip, he pushes his cock inside her, the tightness squeezing his already sensitive cock as if she doesn’t want to let him go, as if she wants to keep him inside of her forever and ever.

“God, such a tight cunt, baby. Squeezing me already, hm?” He murmurs into her mouth, “Easy, darling...slow. Slow, yeah? Want to feel you properly,” his hands go up to her hips, holding her there to still the movement of her hips, and her arms loop around his sweaty neck, fingernails scratching the back of his neck and he hisses, face moving forward to press a bruising kiss on her parted mouth.

Once she calms down, hips stilled, his strong arms begin moving her up and down and they both moan, quick breaths leaving their mouths and mixing together just like how their bodies are almost joined together, two becoming one, and Harry starts moving his own hips so he can fuck into her as she helps her by moving her own hips up and down, slowly, just like he’d asked her to, feeling his cock stretching her tight hole with his every move. There’s a honking outside and both their movements still for a second, and a muffled chuckle leaves her mouth, arms tightening around Harry’s neck.

Their eyes meet, Harry’s mouth turning upwards, “What’s so funny, Miss Giggles, hm?” He murmurs as his hips speed up again, their skins slapping against each other as his cock strokes the insides of her walls ever so softly, sliding in and out of her.

“Jesus, you’re so fucking big, I- I knew you’d be big but...fuck, you’re so good, so fucking good, Harry,” she moans, earning a grunt from him as she meets his thrusts, her hands sliding down to Harry’s shoulders and squeezing his smooth skin briefly before she brings her palms down to her chest.

She strokes the hair on his chest, admiring the way his cross necklace sits proudly there, amongst his now damp chest hair, and she brings her palm to one of his nipples, thumb stroking the slightly darker nub and he lets out a groan as goosebumps appear on his chest and nipples.

“God,” she breathes and Harry can smell the fruity-sour alcohol on her breath, and his mouth pops open when she tweaks his sensitive nipples. “I love your nipples,” she moans again when his cock brushes that sweet spot inside her and he does too, arms tightening around her waist, and she tweaks his nipples again, this time harder as her hips speed up, ass slapping against his meaty thighs and she keeps jumps up on down on his cock.

As she does so, her boobs too move, bouncing up and down with her every movement and Harry reaches with one hand, capturing one of her nipples between his fingers as he tweaks left and right before letting it go, watching her skin prickle at the touch.

“Shit, y’feel amazing, just wanna keep you forever,” he groans, low and delirious, fingernails digging into her waist as he thrusts into her, “So fuckin’ tight around me...so tight and snug. I want you- want this everyday. Wanna be able to touch you, kiss that little face everyday, fuck this beautiful pussy...so good, darling, you’re so fuckin’ good, letting me fuck that sweet cunt in the backseat, hm? Are you good,” he breathes her name into her mouth, then bites her bottom lip, earning a gasp from her when his thrusts become particularly rough. “Are you a good girl?”

“Yes, yes, yes, I’m good, I’m so good, please- I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna fucking cum please keep fucking me, keep fucking me hard, Harry- keep going,” she speeds up her movements, Harry’s cock sliding in and out of her as wet, dirty sounds fill the car and he curses under his breath, hips lifting off the seat to meet her strokes.

“Are you close?” He manages to ask, a low grunt in his voice.

She doesn’t respond. Instead, she brings one hand down to her pussy and begins rubbing her clit, moaning when she touches the little nub and then, with her other hand, she reaches for Harry’s face, thumb stroking the side of the smooth skin before she places it on his bottom lip and presses hard, making him part his mouth. She pushes it in, eyes lulling shut at the feeling of his warm tongue as he sucks on her thumb, hips continuing their movements as he fucks her cunt with quick, rough thrusts.

When she opens her eyes, Harry’s watching her, sweat glistening on his forehead and she brings her finger down to where Harry’s cock meets her warmth and rubs the top of his cock, moaning when she feels the vein there. She brings it up to her clit again, all wet and warm, and she rubs harder with rough strokes as Harry juts his hips forward a few more times. “I’m gonna cum, fuck- I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, baby,” his grip tightens on her waist and she places her hands on his shoulder, squeezing there.

“Come on me, I want it on my tits,” she mutters, fingernails digging into the smooth skin of his shoulders and he lets out a grunt, pulling out quickly as she gets down, Harry’s legs parting immediately so she can get between them.

And she does, gets on her knees between Harry’s parted legs as he takes the condom off, hissing at the feeling as he tosses it somewhere on the floor, and he begins stroking his now-wet cock as she thumbs at her nipples, kneading her boobs before pushing them together. His wrist works harder and quicker at the sight and he finally comes undone, his warm cum spilling onto her boobs, decorating her soft flesh with white stripes and she looks down, watching with sparkling eyes.

“God, fuck,” he breathes, letting his head tilt back, “You’re something else, y’know that?”

She hums, sending him a grin as he gives himself three more lazy strokes before he lets go of his cock and watches the spattered cum against her skin separate with the movement when she lets them go.

“Got some on your top, sorry, love.”

She looks down, then swipes a thumb across her skin and brings it up to her mouth. Pushing it in, she sucks around her digit as she tastes the salty-sour taste and Harry watches, all wrecked and fucked out.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.”

“You’re so naughty...come up here,” his ring-clad fingers reach for her wrist and he helps her sit next to him.

He reaches the little pocket behind one of the seats, taking out some tissues as she watches him take out a few and clean her up as much as he can. Then their eyes meet, both sleepy and wrecked, and he lifts his hand up to her cheek, stroking it, and she leans into the touch, making him smile. “You’re lovely,” he mumbles, hand still on her cheek.

“You’re lovelier.”

He chuckles as she fixes her top, “You really are. Really lovely.”

“Stop it, I’m not good with compliments.”

“Well,” he shrugs, reaching for his trousers on the front seat, “I said what I said. You hungry? Thirsty?”

“I’m kinda thirsty. Aren’t you?”

As they lean against the bonnet of Harry’s car, now parked outside a McDonald’s, there’s a comfortable silence between them as they sip their waters, bodies close to each other, close enough for Harry to smell his faint cologne on her skin.

“You cold still?” He turns to her as she takes a bite of her chocolate muffin, and he follows as a few crumbs land on her chest.

“I’m good. Feel very warm...ed up,” she chuckles, thumbing at the corners of her mouth.

Harry groans, nudging her with his shoulders and she nudges back, harder, and he gasps, “Oi, be nice. I’m feeding you.”

“Soz. Guess I owe you like...what is it, a fiver?”

“You’re a very mean girl.”

“I’m the nicest. I’m good,” she gives him a grin, earning another eye roll from him as she takes another sip of her water before placing it on the floor, “Seriously though, thanks for the muffin.”

“Don’t mention it. I’m kinda bummed you turned down the nuggets but…maybe next time?”

“Next time?” She asks, crossing her arms, trying to warm herself up despite her promise from earlier.

“Well,” he clears his throat, hand going up to his necklace, “I’d love to see you sometime. Again. Preferably for longer than an hour and...you know, just us two? Hanging out?”

She smiles and leans forward, taking him by surprise when she presses their lips together. It’s a sweet, slow kiss, and his hands grab the back of her neck, pressing their faces closer as they kiss. Her hands find his waist and she gets on her feet, coming to stand between his legs without breaking their kiss, and she loops her arms around his neck, smiling when he moans at the feeling of her fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

He tastes the muffin, the chocolate, and himself, and as foolish as it sounds, he wishes there was a way to be closer to her somehow, closer than they already are at this moment. She pulls away, their foreheads pressing together as they smile at each other.

Harry scrunches his nose and smiles, bringing it forward so their noses touch, “What was that for?” He whispers, hands tight around her waist as he hugs her closer.

“Just felt like it...just felt like kissing you.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I like kissing you. I liked kissing you a lot tonight.”

He smiles, nose booping against hers once again, “I liked kissing you a lot too. I’d like to kiss you a lot tomorrow. And maybe the day after that.”

“That’s fine by me. You can kiss me tomorrow...and the day after that,” she whispers, pressing their bodies together.

Harry closes his eyes, taking a deep breath as she watches with curious gaze, eyes crinkling with a smile.

“What are you doing,” she whispers, and he shushes her, smiling when he opens his eyes to find her staring with her eyebrows raised, “What are you doing?” She asks again and he squeezes her waist, forehead pressing against her once again and he leans in closer to press a tiny kiss on the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening,” he whispers, lips almost touching hers as he speaks.

“Listening? What are you listening to?”

He strokes her cheek, “A song.”

She raises her eyebrow again, “What song? I can’t hear it. Are you- you’re not actually serious, are you?”

“Ssh, it’s a song. Listen,”

“Har-ry,” she groans, pressing her forehead on the crook of his neck, “What is it?”

Harry smiles, arms hugging her closer as she presses a tiny kiss to the side of his neck, “Aubade.”

SEND ME YOUR THOUGHTS ABOUT AUBADE AND PLEASE REBLOG THE FICS YOU’VE READ AND ENJOYED TO SUPPORT AND MOTIVATE WRITERS <3

#harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles x y/n

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lumosinlove · 3 years

Text

Between Fifth and You

(cw in tags)

chapter one

“Olives or twist?”

Sirius had to watch the barkeep’s mouth to make out the words beneath the pounding music, which meant Sirius caught the way his eyes skittered across his face almost fearfully. The sheer amount of obsidian in this place probably did nothing to lighten his features. Not to mention, few people knew how to look him in the eye.

“Twist,” he said.

The man nodded and flipped the bottle of gin until it dipped into a shot glass, the glass into the ice. Sirius watched until he was stirring the bitters in and a hand appeared on his shoulder, lips to his neck.

“Burn this,” Saint said, and plucked at Sirius’ shirt sleeve, rubbing the black material between his fingers. Sirius raised an eyebrow as he turned. Saint’s own shirt was unbuttoned half way down his hard chest, light brown skin warm in the flashing club lights. “You’ve worn it too many times.”

“Hello to you, too,” Sirius said. “I like this shirt.”

“I liked it two months ago,” Saint replied. “It’s September now, your highness.”

Sirius scoffed as the bartender slid him his drink.

“You gonna tell everyone the sun did that?” Sirius took a clean sip of gin with one hand and stroked his other through Saint’s gold curls, only suddenly some of the slightly course strands were almost white.

Saint’s grin turned coy. “Isn’t it nice to have a mystery to think about?”

“Oh, yeah, do blonds have more fun?”

“You wouldn’t know.”

The music kicked up a beat that Sirius felt through his spine.

“Why do we always come here?” he leaned a hip against the bar. “We have an entire city.”

“Yeah, fuck the rest of the world, we have one whole city.”

Sirius rolled his eyes. “You know what I mean.”

Saint shook his head. “Because that’s what we do. You see that guy over there? I’ve taken him out four times. Couldn’t tell you his name. They couldn’t tell you mine.”

“Everyone knows your name, Saint.”

Saint grinned. “Maybe. But why do we go back to each other? Because we’re creatures of fucking habit.” Saint cocked his head, stole Sirius’ drink. “And what is this city but a bad, bad habit?”

Sirius’ blood cooled and he looked away.

What am I, Sirius? said the familiar voice from his memory. Am I easy? Am I safe? Do you want me, or am I just familiar now?

He closed his eyes against the memory of his reply.

Bad habit indeed.

XOXO

Spotted—a familiar face from the past. What has this train brought in? Thanks to a tip from @magicinthemaking, I bring you this picture of none other than Remus Lupin (and a certain Southern bell we know and love) under Grand Central’s stars. We missed you, Re—how was England? Or was it Europe?

The rumors can never seem to decide, but why the sudden change in plans to take his Junior year abroad? Here we were thinking he wanted nothing more than to stay.

I wonder how another certain star will feel about this sudden homecoming. And just in time for senior year’s Fall semester, too.

XOXO.

Remus adjusted his suitcase, glad he’d mailed so many of his things home. He’d been on U.S. soil for all of three hours, and he already missed Rome. He wanted to walk down the tiny staircase from his billet family’s apartment and get a cappuccino. He wanted to stand on the drain of the Pantheon and soak up the sheer history in the air.

He already wanted a break.

But he also wanted to see Julian. Sometimes it felt like the only thing pulling him back home was seeing his baby brother’s grin in real life rather than across a Facetime call.

“All good?”

Remus looked up at Leo. His blond hair was still bleached a bright blond from the Roman sun. Their program had ended in May, but Remus was glad they had stayed together. He hadn’t been looking for Leo—for someone to kiss for the first time in the rose garden at the top of the Aventine Hill while Leo told him about its past as a cemetery.

It’s footpaths are laid out like a Minorah, see? Leo had pointed out. To remember. 300 different types of roses isn’t enough. But I like to come here.

Remus thought it had been Leo’s love for history, and his respect, too, that had drawn him in. They both came from a world where the biggest thing most people cared about was what they’d wear to the next party, and who was bringing their next drink.

Remus hadn’t been able to believe his luck, as fragile as his heart was still.

“Yeah,” Remus nodded. “All good.”

But he wasn’t sure. They hadn’t been friends here, in the city, or at Hogwarts. It had been Rome. Remus didn’t know what their old lives would do to them. But he took Leo’s hand and watched the way Leo fingered the star he wore around his neck, the way he shot Remus his dimpled smile.

“Come on,” Remus said. “I want you to meet Julian.”

XOXO

Good morning Upper East Siders—Gossip Girl here. All trends point to Fall’s Hogwartsers coming back in Black—in more ways than one. Sirius Black’s got a baby brother on campus now, and after another wild summer for the Hogwarts College elite, count me in with the rest of them on wondering what to expect. Rumor is he’s not much like our favorite star.

“You don’t have to talk to me, you know.”

Sirius kept his eyes on his eggs and toast. “Your missing your tie. Mom said—”

“What do you care?” Regulus replied. “I hear when she used to make you wear one it usually ended up around some other guy’s neck by ten in the morning.”

“If you’re going to believe everything you read on Gossip Girl about me, then maybe I won’t talk to you.”

Regulus smirked. “So, you read it, too.”

“Boys.”

Both brothers went back to their breakfasts.

“Good morning, mom,” Sirius said.

Walburga Black smiled with her painted lips, resting a hand on Sirius’ shoulder and bending to kiss his cheek.

“Don’t you both look handsome for your first day. Although that leather jacket has seen better days, Sirius. Do what you want for dinner, ask Chef, I don’t care. I’ll be at the House.”

The House. The House of Black, his mother’s million dollar fashion industry.

“Fine,” Regulus nodded, and rose. “I’ll take the first car.”

Sirius rolled his eyes again. “Really?”

Regulus just snatched up his backpack.

Saint, James, and Thomas were waiting for him on one of the courtyard tables when Sirius got out of the Escalade. It certainly felt like a first day of a semester. Saint’s neck dripped in gold necklaces—a story behind each one. Thomas, who had replaced his short braids with a closely shaved head, wore a white t-shirt and ripped up jean shorts, gold nose-ring glinting in the sun. James had evidently been helped out by Lily, as usual, a green, tight-fitting Henley shirt bunched up at his elbows. The two flanked Saint, who basked on top of the stone table, head tilted back to bare his throat in a way that made Sirius think of last night, in the back of the bar. He could see a purplish mark he had left there.

“You’re looking surprisingly chipper,” James said when Sirius reached Hogwarts’ courtyard.

Sirius raised an eyebrow, knowing he didn’t. “I’m not failing any classes yet, James.”

His friends went oddly silent. Sirius looked around at them, spreading his hands in confusion. Saint wouldn’t look at him, expression going oddly stoney. Thomas, finally, offered him his phone, biting his lip. Sirius took it.

His heart leapt to his throat. He didn’t even bother reading the Instagram caption. Remus loomed out at him from the phone screen.

“Leo Knut,” Saint said. “Who would have thought.”

Sirius cleared his throat and turned away from the picture—from Remus and Leo’s clasped hands.

“Why wouldn’t I be chipper?” he said again, and ignored their unconvinced expressions. “I’ve got class.”

Under his desk while he waited for the rest of the class to show, Sirius pulled out his phone and opened Instagram.

XOXO

Remus approached campus slowly. He felt like he didn’t know anyone anymore, even if he knew that wasn’t true. He thought he saw James from afar, but Lily and Kasey didn’t have class today.

Really, Remus didn’t know if he had many friends that weren’t…shared. That didn’t feel too close to home. Manhattan wasn’t that big of an island.

He looked down at his schedule he’d written out on his phone.

The 19th Century Novel - Hogsmeade R#302.

He made his way to the Hogsmeade building and climbed the spiral staircase quickly. It all felt too industrial, too metallic. At least he’d woken up with Leo, who still had the ancient air about him. He didn’t want that bubble to pop.

“Mr. Lupin,” Professor McGonagall beamed when he walked in, and Remus smiled, too at her familiar Scottish drawl. “It’s so very nice to have you back.”

“Hi, Professor. It’s good to be—”

But the words died on Remus’ tongue. He looked out at the small class—just twenty at this high level—and his heart, out of habit it seemed, had leapt at the sight of familiar dark hair.

Uh-oh. Looks like Pyramus and Thisbe are actually wishing for a wall between them this time.

Sirius’ hair was shorter than it had been at the end of sophomore year, the last time Remus had seen him. He wore a touch of a beard, too, just scruff, really, but it framed his silver eyes like darkness to the stars—two stars, which were zeroed in on Remus.

“Back,” Remus tried to recover, mouth dry. He sent McGonagall a shaky smile, and turned to find a seat, trying not to find those stars again.

He resisted the urge to close his eyes in defeat when he realized that there was only one left. He walked towards Sirius looking ahead and with his heart pounding. Leo. Leo making pancakes for him and Julian this morning. Leo making his little brother laugh. But he could smell the worn leather of Sirius’ jacket. He remembered the feel of it around his own shoulders. Are you cold, baby?

“All righty, then,” McGonagall stood from her chair and leaned against the front of her desk, looking down her spectacles at the attendance sheet. “Looks like we’re all here.”

XOXO

“Well?” Saint asked as Sirius took the joint from between his fingers.

“Sat down next to me,” Sirius said. “Didn’t say a fucking word.”

“Did you say a fucking word?” Saint raised his eyebrows.

Sirius blew out smoke. “No.”

“Well, all right, you fucking hypocrite.”

Sirius looked over at him from where they lay side by side, stretched out in the fading sunshine of Central Park. “I’m keeping this now.”

“No, you’re not. Did you pay for that? I don’t think so.”

Sirius scoffed. “Yeah, like this made a dent in the Montague treasuries.”

Saint laughed, tucking a palm behind his head. Sirius let his eyes linger on the strip of skin where his shirt rode up. He’d kissed that last night, too. It was nice with Saint. He’d been friends with him for longer than he could remember. Saint never looked for more. If Sirius snapped at him, he snapped back and then they laughed about it. Saint wandered through the world loving people freely. He kissed them, or he made them dinner, or he took them for long walks along the river. He showed them his favorite jazz club, or gave them the orgasm of their life, or read to them from his favorite books. He was New York in human form, accepting and inviting, living and breathing.

Sirius wished he was so trusting, even if trust seemed a funny word to apply to Saint.

No one ever got too close to either of them, except the other.

“What are you wearing to your mom’s fashion show?” Saint asked with his eyes closed. “It’s the event of the season.”

“Are you joking? The fittings started in July.”

“Mm, I love that,” Saint grinned, stretching. “Want to come help me decide what I’m wearing? We’re at the Plaza right now, you know that. You know my mother. If it’s not broken, break it. We’re renovating again. We can order champagne to the room.”

“Is that code for make out?”

“Partly. But I will be showing you my outfit choices.”

“Deal.”

XOXO

Remus made it back home seeing no one, but one of the butlers had an envelope with his name on it waiting for him.

“Thanks, Moody,” Remus murmured, but thought briefly about handing it right back to him.

He knew this invitation. He knew its black boarders and heavy stock. It came ever year.

It used to be something they had looked forward to.

The Noble and Most Ancient House of Black

invites you

TOUJOURS PUR

“Jesus,” Remus breathed, but took it up to his room, checking the time on the way. Julian would still be at school, his parents at work. This apartment was too big for the four of them, not to mention just Remus alone.

His suitcases still lay open and unpacked on his floor, and he kicked at one without looking up.

“So, did you just forget to mention that you were home?”

Remus spun towards his bed, only to find Lily sprawled across it and fiddling with an emerald on a chain.

“I had to find out from Gossip Girl?” Lily shook her head.

Remus slapped the invitation against his thigh. “Wow, wasn’t like that was a surprise present for you or anything.”

Lily smiled, red hair in a thick french braid. “I see green and I know it’s for me. What can I say?”

Remus huffed out a laugh, and she gave a small squeal and pushed off of the bed to wrap him in a hug.

“I’m so happy you’re home, Re.”

He let himself rest his chin in the crook of her neck for a moment. ‘Thanks, Lils.”

She pulled back, hands on his shoulders. “What, no, me too?”

“I am,” he said tentatively. “But I had fun in Rome.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Southern fun?”

“His name is Leo,” Remus said pointedly, then eyed the pile of garment bags piled high on the other side of his bed. “Are those…”

“Pour moi, et pour toi,” Lily patted his cheek. “We have a fashion show to go to, sweetheart.”

XOXO

What do we think, Courtiers? House of Black’s fashion show is the biggest event of the fall. But what on Earth does doe-eyed Remus Lupin have to do within that dark forest now?

Is he a Bambi, or still the wolf we knew?

You know you love me.

XOXO,

Gossip Girl

#between fifth and you lumosinlove #wolfstar #harry potter #gossip girl #Harry Potter x gossip girl #sirius black #remus lupin #cw: mention of sex #cw: drinking #cw: drugs #Harry Potter fic #the marauders #the marauders era #Harry Potter au #woflstar au

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whimsicallyenchantedrose · 3 years

Text

Dead Man’s Cell Phone--Prologue

Summary: When Emma Swan starts getting phone calls and texts from an unfamiliar number, she decides to check it out--only to discover the number belongs to a Killian Jones, who was killed in a robbery gone wrong six months ago. With some help from a medium, Merlin Emrys, Emma hopes to find out why a dead guy is contacting her--and why she feels such a strong pull to someone she has never met before.

Rating: K+

Other Chapters: 1 2 3 4 Epilogue

Welcome to my entry for the Captain Swan Supernatural Summer! A big thank you to @cssns, the ladies on the Discord! Thank you also to @eastwesthomeisbest, my artist and my beta @veryverynotgood!

~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~

Killian Jones took a deep breath, noting the salty tang of the sea breeze. The scent brought him comfort, a balm to his wounded soul. Some of his most treasured memories involved holidays to the sea with his mum. He remembered something his mum said to him on one such holiday ages and ages ago when he was naught but a tiny lad of four or five.

“You feel things so deeply, Killian,” she’d said, stroking his hair. “When you love, you love with your entire being. It’s a beautiful thing, and those you love are lucky indeed, but be careful. There will be heartache in your future, and when you lose someone you love, I fear it will hit you harder than most.”

He’d learned the truth of her statement less than a year later when she had succumbed to a fast moving, particularly virulent form of cancer. He’d been inconsolable for weeks, unable to understand why his mum had left him.

But life had gone on, and like many children, he’d proven to be resilient, turning to his older brother, his hero, Liam for help and support. He thanked the gods every day that Liam had never left him--either willingly like his deadbeat father or through death like his mother.

Love was rather rare in Killian’s life. He’d taken his mother’s words to heart, only giving his heart when he felt it was in safe keeping.

That was, until he met Milah.

She was beautiful, vibrant, full of life--and unfortunately quite married. Liam had warned him against getting involved with a woman who wasn’t free to give him her heart, but Killian was snared before he even fully understood what was happening. He had fallen hard and he had fallen fast, and he found he was helpless to resist the gorgeous woman who had captured his heart.

They were happy for a few months, so happy that they’d begun discussing forever. Milah had sworn she’d leave her husband, that she wanted to be with him. Killian had begun shopping for rings.

And then, as suddenly as it began, it all went to hell. She’d come to meet him one night looking as grave and uncomfortable as he’d ever seen her.

“Killian, I do love you,” she said, “but what we discussed in the past, I think we’ve always known they’re pipe dreams. Robert’s my husband, the father of my son. We were meant to be. I’m sorry, but I have to end this now. Robert got a new job across the country, and we both think it’s the perfect opportunity for us to make a go at this, to start fresh. I’m sorry, but this is goodbye.”

It hit him hard, so hard it felt like there was a physical weight on his chest. How did one pick up the pieces of their heart when it had been shattered into a fine powder? Liam had tried to be supportive, he really had, but Killian had known it was always on the tip of his tongue to tell Killian “I told you so.”

After a couple months of misery, Killian decided he’d had enough. He needed a change, even if it was no more than a few weeks’ vacation. And so he’d packed up and taken the first flight he could arrange from his home in England to the States. He’d rented a car and simply begun driving, deciding not to stop until he found somewhere that might offer him peace.

He found it in the small, quaintly named seaside town of Storybrooke, Maine. There was such a magical feel about this berg. It was a place he could perhaps run into that peace he’d been sadly lacking since…

Killian stopped abruptly as he collided with something, someone in front of him. He heard a swift, harsh, feminine curse, and looked up to find himself face to face with the most beautiful woman he’d ever seen - riotous blonde curls pulled up into a high ponytail, green eyes, currently narrowed in anger, a red leather jacket over a white tank top. Her jeans were so tight to her slim figure they looked painted on.

For a long moment, Killian could do nothing but stare, open-mouthed at the vision before him, so gobsmacked he could barely remember his own name.

The woman growled in frustration as she looked down at the grocery bag she’d dropped upon impact. “Seriously?” she asked. “You’re just gonna stand there like an idiot?”

Killian shook his head as he came back to himself, his cheeks reddening at his rudeness. “My apologies, love,” he said, stooping down to gather up the spilled contents of her bag. “It appears I wasn’t paying attention to where I was going.”

“You think?” she retorted with a roll of her eyes.

For a moment the two worked together while Killian desperately wracked his addled brain for something--anything--to say that might allow him to remain in this woman’s presence longer, but he was coming up blank.

“Well….thanks for your help,” she said finally, when the groceries were back in their bag.

“Thanks for letting me help,” he replied rather lamely.

“Yeah, well maybe next time you might pay a little more attention and avoid this kind of situation altogether,” she suggested as she pushed past him and quickly disappeared from his sight.

She might have disappeared from his sight, but she most assuredly did not disappear from his mind. Thoughts of the beautiful blonde followed him through the streets of Storybrooke as he made his way closer and closer to the beach.

So consumed was he with his chance encounter that he didn’t even realize he’d wandered into a seedy part of town until he heard the sounds around him.

The sounds of an altercation.

Killian looked up to see several big, burly men brutally beating a man with black hair and blue eyes. The man fought valiantly, but it was at least six to one. He didn’t stand a chance. Killian fished his cell phone from his pocket, intending to call the authorities, get some help, but he knew the victim before him didn’t have time to wait for police to arrive.

Killian had to intervene.

He charged into the fray, pulling first one, and then another ruffian from the man being beaten, but his efforts seemed to have no effect on the attackers.

No effect, that is, save to divert some of their wrath toward him. Killian grunted as the first blow landed on the side of his head, and he dropped his phone to the ground. He fought back with everything in him, pleased to note he’d gotten in a fair few punches of his own, but it soon became obvious that he was hopelessly outmanned.

Sometimes retreat was one’s only option.

Killian turned, hoping to find help for himself and for the other victim, but he’d only made it a few steps when he felt a sharp pain to the back of his head...and then everything went black.

Notes:

--Hi there and welcome to my story for the 2021 CSSNS! This story was kind of inspired by an experience I had. Most of the time if I get a phone call from a number I don’t recognize, I just let it go to voicemail, figuring if they really want to talk to me, they’ll leave a message (and if they’re a telemarketer...they won’t). One day I got a message from an unknown number, and they did leave a message. The message was basically nothing but dead air. For some reason, I decided to try to find out who the number belonged to, and I came to find out the number belonged to someone who had died six months ago. Now logically, that probably means someone else has the dead guy’s cell phone now, but it brought up the possibility of a new story. What if Emma got a phone call from Killian Jones, who she finds out died several months ago...and it isn’t a mistake? Thus this story was born.

--This story has 4 chapters plus this prologue and epilogue, and the good thing is that it’s already completely written. This means I can set (and stick to) a posting schedule! I plan to update this story every Wednesday and Sunday until it’s finished.

--Up next: Emma gets a strange phone call from an unknown number. What she finds out about it leads her on a journey that will completely change her life.

Next Chapter-->

#cssns #captain swan supernatural summer #cssns21 #my fanfiction #cs ghost story au #dead man's cell phone

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it-was-all-a-beautiful-dream · 3 years

Text

Silva Lining (Saul Silva x reader) Chapter 2

Warnings: Swearing?

Word count : 2.1k

This chapter was a little longer, I really get hooked on all of the details and before long the chapter keeps getting bigger and bigger. It’s gonna be a whole story so bare with <3

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The night before starting at a new school you thought was supposed to be exciting, or you were meant to feel nervous, it was not supposed to be spent crying in Tara’s arms after explaining to her what had happened between you and the man you now believed to be your soulmate. You don’t know how long it had taken you to get to sleep in the end, all you knew is that you woke up as heartbroken as you were the night before. However, today is the first day to the rest of your fairy life, so brave face, and deal with the pain after hours.

Technically you didn’t have to go down to the courtyard to see everybody coming in, part of you was just interested, nosy, sick of being surrounded by only like 3 people for the last two months? Let’s just say you had your reasons. So there you were standing by yourself like an idiot, Tara was helping some of her friends move their things in, you noticed a girl with bright blonde hair, stunning, popular no doubt, she had the heir about her, not to mention there was already a group of Fairies crowded around her. Then you noticed another girl, flaming red hair, looking a little lost, part of you wanted to walk over to her, say hi or whatever, then you realised Sky had already clocked her too and was making his way over. Sometimes it was good to fade into the background, it just meant you could see everything happening without seeming too nosy. Like when you notice Blondie shoot daggers towards Sky and the girl he was speaking to, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. Dramaaaaa. The conversation ended quickly when another guy, dressed in dark clothing with brown hair snuck up behind Sky interrupting. From the way they messed around you knew they were good friends. Maybe it was the guy River… no.. Riven, Sky had told you about. You looked away, starting to feel a little lonely as you watched friends re connect after time away. You only had one friend so far, and no doubt she had friends already here too, it was only a matter of time before you were on your own again.

It wasn’t long before the final students had come through the gates and they began to close, you were one of the last ones outside, some stragglers lingering, when you felt someone come up behind you. You could tell instantly who it was, you wanted to be pissed off, but you couldn’t, his presence making you feel more at home than ever. He was close enough that you could feel his breath fanning the back of you neck, but far enough away so that if anyone saw you both it would just look like a private conversation.

“You should be mingling with others, not standing here on your own.” You could tell by the tone of his voice he was frowning. It angered you. He was the one that decided what you felt for each other ‘wouldn’t work’ and now he thought he had an opinion when it came to your social life?

“Saul, I mean, Mr Silva, you made it pretty clear yesterday that what we have.. had, wouldn’t work, so why are you concerned about what I do.” You moved away from him as you heard him sigh. You could tell he was frustrated, you didn’t care. In the two months you’d got to know Silva, you realised that he was a pretty dominant figure, he wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted, or having someone talk back to him.

“Listen Y/N, don’t make this harder than it has to be.” He gritted out, it was paining him that he couldn’t touch you. You rolled your eyes and scoffed, turning to look at him, raising your eyebrow in a kind of ‘are you done?’ attitude. His jaw clenched. “Just stay out of the woods, there was another sighting of a burned one, it’s not safe to be out there at the moment.” With that he brushed past you, his skin brushing yours lightly enough to leave your whole body tingling, he faltered as he felt it too but carried on walking away. You headed off the the Fairy hall, looking back watching his re treating figure, you thought you had been the only two out there, but just before you rounded the corner you caught a glimpse of Headmistress Dowling, staring at the both of you from the top window of her office.

The hallways were bustling, students squealing and hugging friends, luggage being hauled through the crowds, you had to push your way past, noticing on the way, a lot of people staring at you. You could hear people chattering, whispering, getting bits and pieces of sentences here and there like “Changeling” ‘Burned one” “multiple powers”.. You rolled your eyes, how the fuck did the news spread so quickly. You were grateful when you reached the door to your halls. You pushed the double doors open wide and took in your surroundings. Tara was there, sorting out all of her plants, she looked up and gave you a wide smile.

“Oh Y/N there you are! I was just telling the girls all about you.” She rushed out and came to stand next to you. The noise attracted a few girls from the rooms off of the main dorm. Blondie from earlier sauntered out, you don’t know why it hadn’t clicked before that she was obviously the princess. Then followed a girl with headphones, a girl with funky looking hair, bits of blue were braided through it, and then the girl with the flaming red hair you’d seen in the courtyard. You stood awkwardly, your Doc Martens kicking the tiled floor. It was easy to see you all had different styles, you were no exception. There seemed to be a colour theme going on.

“You don’t have to be so worried you know, we don’t bite.” The voice came from the girl with the headphones dressed in purple. “I’m Musa, i’m a mind fairy, that’s how I know what you’re feeling, also the reason you’ll see me with these almost every single minute of the day” she said while holding up the bulky headphones that were around her neck.

The girl with the braided hair was next to introduce herself as Aisha, Water Fairy, explained why she had the blue theme going on. Next was Bloom, the girl from the courtyard with the Fire like red hair, which was suiting considering she was a Fire fairy. She was the other girl from earth.

Lastly was Princess Stella. A light fairy, her hair funnily enough as you mentioned earlier, a bright shade of blonde, her clothes weren’t yellow, matching the whole light theme, but you did clock that the majority of her room and clothing choices were shiny. She gave you a smug smile, you knew girls like her back home, you’d been friends with a girl like her back home, she gave off a vibe of “I’m better than everyone else” but it’s probably just so she can hide her own insecurities. There was hope for her yet so you gave Stella a smile, which shocked her. You looked down at yourself, taking in your appearance, heavy Doc Martin boots, black ripped skinny jeans, plain white top and black leather jacket, okay so if they all had colour themes yours would definitely be black.

“You’ve obviously met Tara, she didn’t shut up about you since we all got here, interesting that you’re from earth too like Bloom, two earthlings in one year, how exciting, and you killed a burned one on your arrival, isn’t that something.” You glared a little at the girl dressed in Green as it seemed she had already spilled some details to the girls in your dorm. Stella mocked surprise, oopsing at the fact that she’d brought up what Tara had obviously babbled out.

Tara mouthed a sorry from across the room, the earth fairy was harmless and you knew that anything she had said would have been accidental or came out in excitement. “Yup well, I’m Y/N as Tara has probably already told you, born in England, Silva found me, killed a burned one at the barrier in the woods, apparently I have multiple abilities andddd i’m a changeling. Any more questions? I thought not.”

You laughed and walked over to your room. You shared the space with Musa, just like her mezzanine, you had one directly above, sort of like a bunk bed but it was more like a bunk room. You’d mastered the art of not falling over the railing when getting up in the night to pee which you were happy about. You heard the girls below all talking about what a changeling was, how you’d killed a burned one, what a burned one was, all riveting stuff. The only thing you could think about, the only person you could think about, Silva. Musa looked at you and gave you a side smile. You were going to have to get used to someone around you knowing how you felt all the time.

“So Y/N, are you going to the party?” Your head peaked up, a party? You didn’t know there was going to be a party but you were sooo going. You needed to let off some steam, do some flirty flirting with the boys and for once be a normal teenager. “I say party, it’s not gonna be some total rave but it’s like a welcome party.” It surprised you that Stella asked. You flopped onto your stomach on your bed.

“Count me in, i’m gonna go for a walk first though, clear my mind and get some air before. Anyone want to join?” You watched as 4 of the 5 girls shook their heads no, it was yet again Stella who surprised you saying yes. Maybe she wasn’t going to be awful after all.

Stella was surprisingly easy to get along with and you could already tell she liked you, maybe you’d already become friends even, you didn’t want to push your luck. You found yourself walking by the pond near where the specialists train. You hadn’t realised that that’s where your feet had led you until Stella tugged on your arm a little. “See that guy there, the one with the blonde hair, that’s Sky, we used to date.” Stella linked arms with you. You nod your head and explained how you’d met Sky when you first arrived here. You tensed as you heard his voice, you heard him before you saw him.

“So, after your classes, you’re all mine.” It made you choke on nothing but air and your cheeks flushed. A few heads turned to look at the interruption and you ducked before Silva saw your red face. He’d seen you though, hiding beside the Princess, he tried to conceal his grin of amusement and then went back to teaching. You looked to Stella, the awkward moment hadn’t gone unnoticed by her. Before you could explain you heard shouting, you and Stella sat down on a near by bench and watched as Silva roasted the living daylights out of a first year specialist for being disrespectful. You could pick up pieces of their conversation, Stella filling in the blanks you didn’t catch.

“The shield is to protect us from the burned ones”….

“Have you ever seen a burned one.” Silva was pointing his sword at the students face.

“That’s the thing no one my age has, isn’t that all over now?” The first year specialist didn’t seem so confident now and you scoffed. Wrong, you’d KILLED a burned one, without even knowing what a burned one was at the time. You still don’t remember how you did it, that moment blanked out completely in your mind, the only thing you remember, Silva finding you haunched over the body.

“That’s where you’re wrong, one of the fairies here, was attacked by one on the way in, luckily, something was in her powerful enough to kill it before it could kill her, so no, it’s not all over now.” You could tell Silva was gritting his teeth, stopping from going any further, sometimes his anger slipped away from him. A few people that had obviously heard the rumours turned and looked at you, shock crossing their faces as if they were all thinking the same thing… so it was true, not a rumour after all. You’d finally had enough of the stares, you jumped up, catching the attention of Silva, Stella following behind you as you walked away and towards the woods.

The very place Saul had told you not to go to.

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PART 3 ---- CLICK HERE

Tag list :

@kingunder221b

@anreeixcobra

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harrysweasleys · 3 years

Text

a little sunshine never hurt // d.m

Summary: hi alexa!!! if your requests are still open, could i request a draco x reader fic? in it’s the first day of holidays/vacation and the reader and draco are best friends who (obviously) have feelings for the other but think the other doesn’t like them that way, and they’re having a picnic at malfoy manor, relaxing in the sun reading or doing homework and draco just blurts it and confession + kiss?? if you can’t there’s no problem! thanks 🥰💓

Warnings: mentions of food! also v v short but v v sweet (also not proofread/edited so pls dont come @ me)

Word count: 1.9k

a/n: yikes, so completely ignore my message about not posing a fic before christmas because here i am, posting another fic before christmas. hope you all enjoy!!! xx [I DO NOT GIVE CONSENT OR PERMISSION FOR MY WORK TO BE REPOSTED ON ANY OTHER PLATFORM!]

— —

Ah, finally summer break.

The start of the holidays meant that you’d now have a good months time to catch up on rest, relaxation, and obviously, assignments. Though you usually disliked the prospect of doing homework while on vacation, you couldn’t help but feel a little thankful at the fact that you now had something to keep your mind laced on magic while you were away from Hogwarts.

Though you were staying with Draco for the first two weeks — where magic was very much present — you still liked to learn. You liked to keep that ever-growing passion for the magical arts, and you were most likely going to finish every single project within the first week of the break.

Draco, however, had different thoughts.

“Bloody ridiculous,” he scoffed, raising his hand to move his blond bangs out of his face, “Giving out homework while we’re on break? What kind of git does that?”

“Those are your professors, Draco,” you grinned, turning to face him, squinting slightly in the blinding sunlight, “Have a little respect, yeah?”

He rolled his eyes, laying back down on the freshly mowed lawn, his dark clothing most likely scorching his skin under the blazing afternoon sun, “Is giving out homework a show of respect? I don’t think so.”

You leaned up on your elbows, a fresh summer breeze rolling through and pushing your hair over your shoulder. It wasn’t necessarily a cold breeze, but it did cause you to let out a small shiver. Draco’s eyes followed you as you sat up properly, crossing you legs and reaching into the tiny basket that carried your snacks.

He had asked you to share a picnic lunch with him today, which came as a bit of an odd question, to be honest. A picnic? You knew Draco wasn’t the kind of person to ‘enjoy the fresh air’ so it was a little bit of a strange request coming from him, to be honest. But there was no bloody way you’d complain. An outdoor lunch with him meant that you got to spend more time one on one — it meant that you’d get to continue seeing the side of him that he chose not to show anyone else.

He was quite a complex fellow, if you were to be honest. In school, he closed himself off. He hid away from the world and kept his cold exterior up, not daring to let anyone in. You had gotten through to him — after trying for multiple years, of course — but there really was nothing better than seeing him as relaxed as he was when he was home. Maybe ‘relaxed’ isn’t the proper term; but he did have a totally different air. Less arrogant, less obnoxious, and definitely less pompous.

It didn’t help your ever-blossoming crush in the slightest.

“Can you toss me an apple?” he asked, now mimicking your position and crossing his legs as well. His knee brushed against yours, and even though you were both clothed, you felt a jolt of sparks rush through your body.

You let out a small cough to clear your throat, “Sure.”

Completely forgetting whatever it was that you were looking for in the first place, you tossed him the bright green apple that he had insisted on bringing to lunch. You were surprised that the Malfoy family didn’t decide to grow their own apple trees, to be honest, with how often Draco would scavenge the pantries for the perfect one to eat, they’d most likely be better off by growing some in their own vast yard.

“What are your plans for the summer, then?” he asked, taking a big bite, crunching loudly and closing his eyes as he craned his head up to look at the sky.

Your mouth went dry at the sight of him, his defined jawline and smooth neck looking sharper than ever under the bright sunlight, casting shadows around the base of his neck. His platinum hair hurt your eyes to look at, but even then, you’d love nothing more than to run your hands through it. While he rested his head on your lap, while you made out in bed, while you —

“Are you ignoring me?” he snapped your attention back to reality with the low chuckle in his throat.

“No. No, sorry, just got caught in a daydream,” you turned away from him, hiding the growing redness on your cheeks before trying your best to play it off, “I don’t really have plans for the remainder of summer, honestly. Just taking it one day at a time.”

You laid back down on the grass next to him, resting your arm at your side and brushing your fingers against Draco’s. Your heart jolted and you tried to quickly pull your hand away, but you felt his finger twitch against your skin, his pinky finger locking with yours.

It was as if you totally forgot to breathe.

“I’m happy to have you here,” he said softly, placing the unfinished apple down on top of the closed basket, giving you his undivided attention, “I’m gonna miss you when you leave.”

You could hardly think straight, but you couldn’t give in to his charm that easily. He’d only tease you for the rest of the break, wouldn’t he? But, it was hard not to give in. His finger was awfully soft locked with yours, and you could feel both the heat from his body next to you, on top of your own body temperature spiking. It was way too warm to be in the sunshine.

“I’m happy to be here, too,” you replied, voice awfully quiet. You were almost sure he didn’t hear you, but the way that his hand gave yours a little squeeze, you knew that he did.

You two were often on the same page, it was rare he didn’t know exactly how you were feeling. And it was rare that you didn’t know exactly how he was feeling. Right now was one of those rare moments. You couldn’t tell if he was honestly just pleased to have you here — mostly to help him deal with his pain in the ass father — or if this was something more. More than friendship, more than just... platonic. You couldn’t tell what he was feeling and it was driving you absolutely bonkers.

How could you even begin to ask him? Could you even ask? How would that go?

“Hey, Draco, I think I like you.” Pathetic, really. What a way to embarrass yourself.

You felt his hand give yours another squeeze, “You alright?”

Turning to face him, you thought that it was now or never. When would you get another moment of privacy with him like this? Where you could tell him the truth without the possibility of being overheard?

To weight the pros and cons; if he felt the same, you guys could get the next little while together before going your separate ways for the remainder of the holidays. But if he didn’t, you’d have to deal with the brutal awkwardness of spending the next ten days with him, knowing that your feelings were one sided. Then, you’d have to see him again once returned to school. It wasn’t a very balanced list, in your opinion.

“I’m fine,” you turned to face him, forcing a small smile.

As mentioned before, Draco could always tell how you were feeling. Which is why he pulled his hand from yours, turning over on his side to look at you. With furrowed eyebrows and concerned written across his features, you wanted nothing more than to peel your eyes away from him and completely ignore his gaze. But that was nearly impossible. It’s hard to look away from Draco Malfoy.

“Something tells me you’re lying,” he said softly, eyes scanning your face as if he could read your emotions written into your skin — as if the light freckles dotting your cheeks could give him the answers he was looking for.

You sucked in a deep breath, feeling the expansion of your lungs in your chest — it felt as if you were going to crush your heart any second now. Quite an unpleasant feeling, really.

“I’m not lying,” you said, voice cracking as you spoke. The worst possible lie. There was no way he’d believe that.

He scoffed lightly, “So you’re just going to ignore your feelings then, yeah?”

It was now your turn to sit up, leaning against one of your elbows as you turned your body to face him. His cheeks were tinted with a pale shade of pink, most likely from the burning sun. It was a rather warm afternoon for summer in England.

“What feelings?” you asked, averting your eyes, choosing to stare at an ant crawling slowly up a blade of grass. Not fascinating, but better than giving in to Draco.

“Y/N,” one of his hands reached over and touched your chin, lightly tilting it so you could turn your head up and face him, “I asked you to a picnic today so we could be alone, you know?”

You finally looked over to him, eyes scanning from the base of his throat, slowly up to meet his eyes, “Why?”

“Well, I thought I was being bloody obvious,” he grinned, “I like being alone with you.”

“But why?” you sounded like a child

His laugh was taunting you — effortless and relaxed. Completely juxtaposed to the raging storm of emotions going through your heart and head. How he could say something like that; so heavy and heartfelt, to acting like it was nothing, you could never understand.

“Because,” he scooted closer, his hand leaving your chin, but coming to rest atop of yours, “I don’t know how much clearer I can make this, but I like you.”

You looked over at him, eyes wide and mouth gaped open like a fish. You must look like a bloody idiot, but there was really no other way to respond to that. He liked you back. All this time, he liked you back. And you genuinely had no idea.

There were really no words you could say in response, so you decided on showing him how you felt instead, placing your hand at the back of his neck and bringing his lips to yours. They were incredibly warm — possibly from the sun — and soft. Softer than the grass beneath your skin, and sweeter than the chocolates melting in the basket by your feet. He tasted like mint and green apple, a mixture that felt odd when spoken, but tasted like heaven when experienced.

You felt him mumble against your lips, “I’ll take it you feel the same way?”

Pulling away to let out a small laugh, you nodded your head, “If it wasn’t obvious, yes.”

“Just making sure,” he gave you a lopsided grin, his hand cupping your cheek to connect his lips to yours once again.

— — —

taglist (message me to be added!)

@grierpilots @hxfflxpxffs @mikumana @msmimimerton @pit-and-the-pen @diary-of-an-onliner @theweirdsideofstuff @thoseofgreatambition @theweasleysredhair @haphazardhufflepuff @starlightweasley @mytreec @thisismysketchbook @valwritesx @vogueweasley @hufflrpuffforfred @phuvioqhile @marvelettesassemble @shadowsinger11 @breadqueen95 @hahee154hq @ickle-ronniekins @beiahadid @mymessedupbrain49

#draco malfoy #draco malfoy imagine #draco malfoy imagines #draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy reader insert #draco malfoy one shot #draco malfoy one shots

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fbfh · 3 years

Text

light up the dark [V] - leo x reader

genre: romance + action + enemies to lovers kinda

word count: 2.4k

au: none

pairing: Leo x gothy!child of eros!fem reader

requested: yes teehee

warnings: spoilers for HOO but like what’s new, at least one fuck, mentions of breakfast foods and burger king, one “cranberry fucknut”, brief visit to a historical memorial site, I think that’s it????

summary: you have a very weird dream that leads you to realize you’re actually on some kind of quest! very fun! you, Leo, and Jason follow a lead, find out Chiron’s sending you guys some backup, and realize you’re going to need a very large airbnb

listen to: making mirrors - gotye aka the best dream sequence music

also we’re the rats. it’s not relevant just living in my brain.

a/n: honest to god it tookme so long to write this i forget what happens in the first half rip

also requests r open uwu

Your dream is unnerving, and not just because you had spent years in a dreamless sleep and forgot what dreaming was like. Okay, partially because of that, but also because of the atmosphere.

You’re standing in a dark room. It’s pitch black, but you can make out the shape of the room, which is unusual to say the least. It’s long and rectangular, and the ceiling has cylindrical indents, almost as if giant logs were supposed to fit there. The indents go across the short side, with another in front of it, like a rope bridge across a river. Giant curved metallic discs like flat mushrooms are embedded in the ground at regular intervals.

You get the feeling something’s missing. You stare up at the ceiling trying to get more information, when something hot and glowing presses against the roof. It shines through, casting everything in a strange pink light. You can’t see it, but you know what it is. A translucent sundial that gave off a glowing orange cast.

Sunstone.

You look back down not wanting to hurt your eyes, and they fall on someone else in the room. He hadn’t been there a second ago. He’s blonde, and looking up at the ceiling, seemingly unbothered by the blinding light.

“He has it,” he says, wistfully, almost regretfully.

"Who?" You question.

"I can't pronounce his name, no one can."

"How can we get it back if we can't find him?" He smiles, liking how you know what he needs you to do before he even tells you.

"I can't tell you his name, but he's very old… some may even say archaic…" He looks at you with intention, searching for a spark of understanding. He doesn’t find what he’s looking for, and continues, “and not far from here. Which is good, since I need you to get it back for me.”

“How do we find it?” He tosses you a small, clear container filled with what looks like yellow slime. You look at him, eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

“It’s a drop of sunshine,” he explains, “don’t touch it or you’ll burn up. It’ll glow when you get closer to what you’re looking for.” You tuck it in your jacket pocket.

“Can-”

Before you can get out the rest of the sentence, you feel like you’re being pulled out of deep water. Your eyes shoot open, and you take in a quick breath through your nose. You open and close your eyes a few times, and push yourself into a sitting position. There’s a weight on your stomach and you trace the hand back to Jason, who had gently nudged you awake moments ago. His mouth is open and there’s a stale smile, like he was about to tell you to rise and shine. Your stare is unwavering, and he retracts his hand.

“Uh… breakfast is ready,” he says, turning back and heading over to the couch.

“Kay,” you mutter, still groggy and disoriented. Maybe sleep just isn’t for you. Jason hesitates about half way across the room, noticing the lack of cat-like vengefulness in your tone of voice.

“...You okay?” he asks softly.

“Fine, just a weird dream,” you roll your shoulders, back sore and stiff, to try and loosen the two stubborn knots just below your shoulder blades. His eyebrows furrow at your words and you continue, “I’m starting to think I should add a little chloroform to my sleepy time tea.”

“What happened?” he asks, sounding way more serious than you’d expected.

“I dunno, I-” he cut you off, calling for Leo. Jason encourages you to tell them what you’d dreamed about as in depth as possible once Leo comes in from the sitting area, so you don’t have time to gauge how he seems after last night. You feel a little silly trying to describe a surreal dream to them, especially since they seem to be paying such rapt attention. After recalling as many details as you could, they sat in silence for a minute. They share a look, then sigh in unison. Jason pushes up his glasses and squeezes the bride of his nose as Leo lets out a soft ‘fuck’.

“I’ll go iris message Chiron, Leo, do you want to get some food and offerings to burn?” Jason says. Leo agrees, and Jason’s already in the sitting area, misting water in the air with a squirt bottle. Leo puts a hand on your shoulder.

“Why don’t you get dressed, I already made some coffee,” he says, the spike of hesitance that shot through his stomach at his instigated physical contact dissolving when you nod sleepily. An unusually warm feeling clouds through you, less distant and detached than normal. You realize while digging through your bag that for whatever reason, you didn’t hate the feeling of Leo’s hand on your shoulder. You grab your clothes from your bag, and feel a weight in your jacket. You reach into the pocket, and pull out the “slime” from your dream. It glows briefly, fading as you walk towards the bathroom. Huh, you think, at least now we know what to look for. You’re grateful for the example as you get dressed and freshen up, wondering what the hell happens next.

Burning the food doesn’t take long. Leo throws the extra breakfast they’d ordered onto the metal table on the patio, except for a piece of toast he held in his hands. He summons fire until the toast is engulfed in flames, and drops it with the rest. He fans the smoke and asks for guidance, protection, typical pre quest stuff. After a minute or two, he pours out a pitcher of water to extinguish the flames, and heads back into the sitting area with Jason. On his way, he watches you through the open bathroom door for a second as you put on your makeup. You sure are different from girls he’d liked in the past. A strong twinge of pain from the previous night makes him flinch. He shoves it away, and takes a seat, greeting Chiron through iris message. Jason had just finished filling him in on the dream and the sundial, and he looks worried.

“I was afraid this might be the case. I'd gotten word that something like this might have happened, but I hoped it was just hearsay… I'm sorry boys, but you're most definitely on a mission from the gods. The story behind that sundial is long and complicated; in summary, if Apollo does not have his sundial by june, summer cannot happen."

"Wh- like, time will stop?" Leo says.

"Will it just skip to autumn?" Jason adds.

"What about Persephone?"

"Can Demeter do anything?"

Chiron holds up his hands to quiet them.

"I wish I could say, but no one really knows what will happen, only that we do not wish to find out."

"So, what do we do?" Jason asks.

"Who can I send?" Chiron says to himself, "Dear gods, this is… unfortunate."

"Chiron," Jason says again, getting his attention.

"Right, I'm sorry my boy, this whole situation is… preoccupying." Jason agrees, and asks what they should do next.

"Get as much information as you can from what Apollo has told you. I'll gather some people to send over at once, they'll be on their way shortly. This is most distressing…" he trails off, lost in thought again, and the iris message cuts out. Jason's stomach is in knots.

After freshening up, you get dressed, having chosen your clothes deliberately before. If shit’s about to hit the fan, which it looks like it is, you’re going to need a strong balance of comfortable and kick ass. Plus, it’s still the cold part of spring, and New England weather is no joke.

You assess yourself in the mirror, satisfied with your choice; half black half gray cargo pants with chain belts, a long sleeved fishnet top with a black crop top over it, and one of your favorite pairs of platform boots. You topped it off with a layered choker studded with black jewels and delicate chains, asymmetrical earrings - one attached to an ear cuff, the other dangling - and a ring that looks like a snake wrapped around your finger. Last but not least, a dark olive green bomber jacket with ‘god save the queen’ written on the back in paint.

Your mind wanders as you lean closer to the mirror, laser focused on perfecting your eyeliner. The memory of Leo’s hand on your shoulder creeps back up, and your brow furrows at the panicked flush to your cheeks, wondering why you didn’t push him off.

‘Some cranberry fucknut broke his heart last night, I didn’t want him to feel worse’, you think deliberately, refusing room for any objections or alternative solutions your brain keeps offering up. You finish your makeup relatively quickly, pleased at how much better it looks when you don’t sleep in it for years. Your hair is… hanging in there, but you can’t drop everything and redye it now. At least you know what color you want next - a nice, coral tinted red. You’ll have to keep an eye out the next time you go shopping.

Finally, you’re ready. You put away your makeup and pajamas, and make your way over to the boys. You grab some coffee and pick at a muffin, the strategy session beginning.

Jason takes a sip of his own coffee, scowling at the slightly burnt taste.

“Where should we start looking? Do we have any decent leads?”

You sip your coffee, your face mirroring Jason’s moments before.

“The guy from my dream-”

“Apollo,” Jason interjects.

“Right,” you continue, “he said whoever has what we’re looking for has a really hard to pronounce name or something. Maybe we can start there.”

After some back and forth, and consulting of travel guides, you find a memorial for some historical figure with a name that definitely would have gotten him bullied.

“Wasn’t that guy a demigod?” Leo asks, and Jason confirms. You’re already checking the maps scattered around for a route.

“It looks like it’s pretty much just further west from where we are, we can probably get there pretty easily,” you remark. Jason and Leo look at you, then each other. No one has any better ideas, and at least it’s some kind of lead.

Four and a half hours later, you sat in the car in stumped silence. It took almost three hours to get up to the memorial site, an hour to look around and realize there is absolutely nothing there that can help you at all, ten minutes to debate what to do next, and twenty minutes to get burger king, since no one had eaten since breakfast.

“Well, that sucked.”

Leo and Jason give you a look, knowing you’re right.

“Yeah, it did.” Jason agrees matter of factly, earning a small chuckle from you and Leo.

“So what do we do now?” Leo asks.

“Well, no one’s around, we could probably iris message Chiron-” before he could finish his sentence, a shimmery image of a tan girl with choppy dark hair appears in front of him.

Jason and the girl - Piper, apparently - greet each other enthusiastically, then Leo follows suit. It looks like she’s in a cab, holding something at arm's length. You make it out to be a phone, probably to trick her cab driver into thinking she’s on a facetime call or something. Two other people lean over, one blonde and smiling, the other dark haired and irritable, and more greetings are exchanged. You lean slightly to the side so you’ll be out of site and hopefully won’t have to make any introductions. Leo seems to catch onto this, and when Piper’s eyes land on the edge of your shoulder.

“So did Chiron send anyone else?” he asks before she can say anything.

“Yeah,” she replies, “Frank and Hazel are coming from camp Jupiter; Frank’s flying, and Hazel’s getting a ride from Arion,” Leo and Jason nod in understanding, picking up instantly on her deliberate word choice. Christ, you’re going to have to get a bigger place than that hotel room.

“Uh… Percy and Annabeth just started spring break, so they’ll be coming soon. Hazel should get there first, for…” she glances at the cab driver, “obvious reasons, and me, Nico, and Will are on our way now, we should be there in a few hours.”

Your skin is already feeling prickly from the idea of being around that many people. They talk for a few more minutes, and Jason says he’ll tell them the specific address as soon as possible before ending the call.

Thankfully, you all had repacked the car with your bags from the hotel room before you left, just in case you needed anything, so there’s no need to make the two and a half hour trip back to the hotel. You sigh and turn to the boys.

“Why don’t we go get some groceries and stuff, and I can get us an air bnb.”

They agree, pleasantly surprised and grateful for the normalcy of something like grocery shopping, and you ask how many people there are going to be.

“Uh, should be te-”

“Eleven.” Leo says firmly. Jason looks like he’s going to say something, but he bites back whatever it is. Leo’s hands normally dance around like swirling snow, light and natural with subtle patterns if you can figure them out. But right now, his normal subconscious movements seem to be heavier, more intentional. His relaxed expression is set in stone, a silent plea to move on, act like everything’s normal, and you know he’s covering up the depth of the wound that girl left on his heart. A twinge of concern flares in your gut, and you blink, looking away.

“Okay,” you say, pulling out a pen and notepad from your bag to write out a grocery list, “Let’s go. What do we need?”

Jason pulls out of the parking lot, and begins to head to the nearest box store. Your eyes dart over to Leo involuntarily a few times, and by the time you’re almost there, he seems to be almost back to himself. Subconsciously relieved, your mind starts to wander back to the list, skimming it one more time to make sure you don’t forget anything.

Maybe you can pick up some hair dye while you’re here.

#Leo Valdez #leo x reader #leo valdez x reader #Heroes of Olympus #heroes of olympus x reader #LV light up the dark #enjoy babes teehee

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no-whump-on-main · 3 years

Text

Apartment 307-8 (Grabbed by the hair)

Hi guys!! I'm so sorry it took me so long to update. School and work have been crazy but luckily I'm out of school next week so I'll have much more time and be posting more frequently! Apologies for the short chapter, I have no idea why but it just kicked my butt lol. I tried doing some cool multimedia stuff, I hope you enjoy! This is @sableflynn's BTHB request, grabbed by the hair.

TWs: Creepy, possessive whumper, mention of branding, also this chapter made me sad bc I love my mom and Elora's mom is sad so warning for that lmao

Elora was still lying there crying hours later. The tears had slowed from her initial keening sobs, but they still fell steadily down her face, accumulating in a small puddle on the tile by her head. She could see a bit of her reflection in the salty water; just her eyes, mostly. She saw green eyes that had once been so full of hope and life that were fading, the slow abandonment of hope almost making them gray out. She wanted to lie there forever, staring into her own eyes, until oblivion took her. If she cleared her head enough, she could pretend she was elsewhere, somewhere warm and loving; the blanket draped over her body did help with the fantasy, though she always knew somewhere in the back of her head that it was just that: a fantasy. She was still here. With him.

Clyde tried to give her time to recover, but his patience wore eventually. He began to get antsy after a few hours of watching her lie there, doing nothing but cry. Admittedly, he did enjoy it at first-seeing her so weak, so docile, because of him-but it eventually grew tiresome. Watching each tear drip down into the puddle became like watching paint dry.

He stood up abruptly. Elora was startled by the motion, flinching before stilling and watching him very carefully. What was he going to do?

“Get up,” he said simply.

Elora froze. She still felt sick, dizzy with pain and the lingering scent of her burning flesh in the bathroom. But why would he care about that? Why should she disobey him, when she knew what would happen?

Yet pride and pain got the better of her again.

“I can’t,” she whimpered. She felt weak. “I hurt. You hurt me.”

The piercing sound of a loud, sudden laugh began to echo through the bathroom. It reminded Elora of the laugh of a hyena. She winced.

“Darling, did you not think that was the point?”

Her expression hardened and her heart thumped in her chest. That was the point. She wanted to say something, but her mouth suddenly got dry.

The man simply grinned. “Get up,” he repeated, but she didn’t. She just laid there, dumbfounded.

He groaned angrily, rolling his eyes. “Fine,” he grumbled. “Be that way.”

He gathered up her hair in his hand, locked his fingers in a tight fist, and pulled up. Elora yelped and scrambled to get to her feet to relieve the pain, but he didn’t give her the chance; he carelessly dragged her off, out of the bathroom, through the hallway, and into the living room. She screamed and thrashed wildly, her hands desperately trying to push him away as her scalp burned like fire. Again and again, her feet scraped the ground to no avail, kicking and kicking but never able to gain enough traction to stand as she was mercilessly dragged. The man finally dropped her on the floor at the foot of a worn leather couch, releasing his death grip on her hair. Her hands immediately flew up to her head, applying gentle pressure to her scalp to try to ease the burning pain as she looked around the new room.

The living room was barren, like the man had half moved into it then given up. There was a dusty box in the corner, the couch, a worn coffee table, a small stand, and an old TV. Other than that, it was empty, in an eerie way. The aged carpet spanned the floor like an ocean.

The pressure didn’t do much and Elora dropped her hands, still wincing as the man plopped himself on the couch behind her, the leather making a loud crackling noise as he sat. She whipped her head around as her shoulders raised up to her ears instinctively. The man made a sour face, his features twisting into an ugly frown.

“Relax,” he commanded, forcefully pushing her shoulders down. At first, she tried to wiggle away, but that idea was abandoned when he tightened his grip, clearly as a warning. He grabbed the TV remote from the arm of the couch and turned it on. It started on some history channel documentary about cars, but Clyde quickly flipped through channels until he found the local news station.

A grin spread across his face as he read the blue banner spanning across the bottom of the screen. They were just in time.

UP NEXT: CAPE COD GIRL GOES MISSING; DESPERATE MOTHER PLEADS FOR HER RETURN

His hands wandered to Elora’s scalp and began to gently card through her hair. She inhaled sharply, and it took everything she had in her not to immediately shove him off. Somehow the gentleness felt worse than the pain; the false sense of care disgusted her. He was a maniac. He hurt her, he branded her, and now he was sitting on the couch petting her hair, pretending like none of it happened. It didn’t escape her attention how he set her on the floor instead of the couch, below him, like a dog.

The banner was bad enough, but she felt sick to her stomach when the station cut to a reporter sitting at a desk with a picture of her on half of the screen. It was the picture her mom took of her at the orchard last fall. It was candid; she remembered it. She was intently focused on a butterfly off on a tree, ignoring her mom as she snapped the photo. It was one of her favorite pictures of herself. And now, it was plastered all over the news.

The reporter on the TV began to speak. “Tonight, a desperate mother pleads for her missing daughter’s safe return. Elora Larkin, nineteen, of Barnstable county, Massachusetts has been missing since Friday night. She was last seen walking home from her job at Agathangelou’s bakery, wearing khakis, a black t-shirt, and black sneakers. The police have opened a tip line and are offering an unspecified reward for any information that leads to Miss Larkin.”

Elora felt a lurching sensation in her stomach, so visceral she wanted to throw up. That was her. On the news. Gone. Missing.

Behind her, the man chuckled.

“Look at that, baby. You’re all over New England.”

“I’m not your baby,” she snapped, turning around. But her head was spinning. All over New England? It wasn’t the Cape Cod news station on the TV. It wasn’t even a state news channel. It was entirely unfamiliar, the reporter’s face one she’d never seen.. So he’d taken her across state lines, making her chances of being found lower yet.

The man shushed her and put a finger up to her lips. “Watch.” She almost bit him, but decided it wasn’t worth the inevitable punishment that would follow. Besides, they might say something useful, something that could help her. She needed to pay attention.

The screen changed, and a missing persons poster popped up. Hers.

It was up for a minute before it faded away as the reporter came back on the screen.

“Such a sad story. Everyone in the studio is hoping and praying for her safe return. Unfortunately, vigilance is so important in this day and age. Up next, we have a recording of a press conference with the girl’s mother.

The girl’s mother. Her mother. Elora felt her heartbeat thumping in her chest.

And there she was. Jodie was standing at a podium in a building that had to be a police station. Demetrios was standing by her side, offering support by merely being present. While Elora hadn’t seen him cry even once in all the years she’d known him, he now looked like he was on the verge of tears.

Her mom started to speak. She looked so sad. Withered, like the life had been sucked out of her, from fear and overthinking and sleepless nights.

“My daughter-My daughter Elora has been missing since Friday night. She’s got-she’s got blonde hair, and green eyes, and she’s real tall. I’m sure pictures have gone around by now. She was walking home from work and-and then she disappeared. We were supposed to have dinner Sunday and she never came. It was supposed to be her weekend off. I- If someone has her, please, I’m begging you, let her go. Bring her home safe. She’s a good kid, she works hard, she rescues cats in her spare time...she doesn’t deserve this. And Elora, if you’re seeing this, I love you. I love you so much, honey. If you chose to leave, please just tell us you’re okay. It’s okay. You can go see the world, just tell us you’re okay. And if something-something bad happened, we’re gonna find you. I promise, baby, I love you and we’re gonna bring you home. Promise.”

At that point, she set the microphone down and began to cry, tears streaming down her face as she hurried off to an exit, the cameras following her for a few moments. Elora’s heart twisted in knots. Seeing her mom’s face brought her so much joy, yet knowing how worried she had to be made her feel sick with guilt.

But she promised. She promised she’d find her.

“That your mom?”

Elora stilled. He already knew the answer.

"She’s kinda pathetic. Could barely keep it together long enough to tell them about you.”

She went cold. “Stop,” she seethed. Her voice was eerily calm, given her anger.

"Or what?” he replied, twisting her hair up in his hand and giving it another tug.

Elora was silent. There was no or what. She knew that.

The reporter came back on the screen.

“Well, folks, that’s all we have on the case for tonight. Remember to be safe and vigilant. This has been Hannah Brown with News12.”

The man released her hair, picked up the remote, and turned off the T.V.

“Notice how they only talked about you, not me?”

Elora turned her head around. She was crying.

“What?”

He scoffed. “I said, notice how they only ran their mouths about you the whole time. Never said a word about me. You know what that means? They don’t know jack shit about me. They don’t know who you’re with or where you are. I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but we’re in Connecticut. We crossed state lines twice. They’re never going to find you, you know that?

She tried to hide it, but he could see her expression falling with every word he said, hope beginning to seep out of her. She shook her head vigorously, her bottom lip trembling.

“N-no! No, they will, you’re just crazy! You’re just fucking crazy!”

A scowl formed on his lips. “No, they won’t.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but in a split second, his hand was gripping tightly around her throat, cutting off her air. Her eyes went wide.

“No one is coming to save you.”

Elora swallowed, fear bright in her eyes. She tried to rip herself away, but the man raked his fingers across the fresh brand on her collarbone, sending her to the ground, keeling in pain.

“We could’ve had a nice evening if you behaved. Listened,” he grumbled, standing and once again grabbing her hair tightly before dragging her off towards the bathroom.

Tags: @exploringspaceinpyjamas @all-whumped-out @badthingshappenbingo

#bad things happen bingo #whump #whump fic #whump writing #my writing #whumper #human whumpee #possessive whumper #creepy whumper #Elora #elora larkin #lady whump #whump blog #psychological whump #physical whump #apartment 307

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peggyrose19 · 4 years

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Everything Was Falling Apart Pt. 2

Part 2 here we go! This might end terribly, we’ll see. More angst, as I’m sure you all expected. What will they decide? Who knows. Certainly not me. I just let them do what they want. Anyways. This is kinda mixing the timelines/storylines of both Clandestine and SW so it might be a tiny bit confusing to follow? Idk, I tried my best to make it make sense. Last part was more from Finn’s perspective so this time you get Logan. Whee. That was not intentional, it just happened. Did I mention I just write what they tell me to? Well, I do.

Part 1 is here if you haven’t read it yet.

Also I lied, there will be a part 3 hehe. I just really love leaving you guys in suspense. Sorry not sorry :)

Characters belong to the amazing and lovely @lumosinlove and AU belongs to the wonderful @heyitssmiller.

Logan missed him. He tried and tried to ignore the feeling but he did. Finn was constantly on his mind, with his soft hair and green eyes and loving smile. He missed Leo too. But that was a different pain. The kind of pain that never left. The kind of pain that stuck in his mind when he closed his eyes at night, curly hair stained with blood, brown eyes wide and unblinking flashing past his eyes.

He was in Australia for Leo’s birthday. It was warm there, the seasons opposite to what he was used to. He woke up and found he couldn’t get out of bed. He just lay there and thought about blond curls and dimples and a laugh he’d never hear again. Finn texted him. He didn’t answer. And when his tears had soaked through the pillow, he rolled over and tossed it off the bed, falling into an uneasy sleep until morning.

He was in England for Finn’s birthday. It rained the whole day and he sat unmoving by the window, phone in his hand, thinking of his wide smile and bright eyes and the absence of both the day they’d said goodbye. He couldn’t bring himself to dial the number.

He would have forgotten about his own birthday was it not five days before Christmas. And if his sisters hadn’t bombarded him with messages and questions of when he would be home again. He called them all, faking a smile for them, and promised to be home for Christmas next year. But he had a feeling they saw right through him. Everything was falling apart.

The night Logan flew into JFK airport, he received a voicemail from Finn. It surprised him; Finn had given up contacting him months ago after too many messages had gone unanswered. He pulled it up, pressing play absentmindedly, knowing he wasn’t going to reply, telling himself he was listening to it only to know what he’d said.

But this time something in Finn’s voice pulled him up short.

Hey Lo. I miss you.

It’s been a year since… well. But you know that of course.

I just- I know you’re in New York. Don’t tell me you’re not, we both know it’d be a lie. Can I- can we… I want to see you. Please. It’s been so long. Just… give me a call when you land. Or don’t. Whatever. I just- we need to talk.

I love you.

Logan stood frozen, unaware of the world, everything falling apart around him. The people rushing around him, the announcement being made, the whir of the baggage claim starting up all went by unnoticed. He just stood, staring down at his phone, at the voicemail and the name Finn O’Hara beside it. Finn’s words rang through his head. That was not what he had been expecting.

With shaking hands, he dialed the number.

Finn answered on the first ring.

“Hello?” his voice asked, uncertain and quiet and as familiar to Logan as the green of his eyes, ingrained forever in his mind. Unthinkingly, Logan released a soft sigh.

“Hey, Finn,” he said quietly.

“It’s really you.”

He took a shaky breath. “Yeah.”

“I didn’t think you’d call.”

“Me neither. But your voicemail… fuck, Finn. I- yeah, I’d love to see you.”

“You would?” Finn’s voice rose.

“Yeah. I miss you.”

“Coffee tomorrow?”

Logan forced his nerves down, refusing to get his hopes up about anything. “Sounds good.”

He could almost hear Finn’s smirk as he added, “Or whatever the fuck it is you drink. Cause it certainly isn’t coffee.”

“Fuck off,” Logan let out a startled laugh.

Finn laughed a little too. “So, tomorrow. Does 9:00 work? And there’s a cafe just down the street from my place if you wanna go there. I can send you the address.”

“Sounds good,” Logan managed, voice tight.

“Alright. I’ll see you then Tremz. Don’t bail on me.” He said it jokingly but they both heard the truth beneath it.

“I won’t,” he promised softly.

Finn hung up with a soft click and Logan stood rooted to the spot. He wasn’t sure what to think. Finn had called him. He had called Finn. And Finn had answered. They’d talked. They’d made plans. After a year of not speaking, of not seeing each other, not even being in the same time zone, they were going to coffee tomorrow.

He wasn’t sure he was even going to make it there.

But he had promised. He had promised Finn he would show up and so he would.

He would not fall apart.

Logan woke the next morning having slept a total of two hours. Each time he drifted off, his thoughts betrayed him again, turning back to his date with Finn over and over until he wanted to reach into his mind and pull them out simply for a moment of peace.

He dressed anxiously, changing half a dozen times before forcing himself to stop. For the next hour, he paced the small hotel room, television playing in the background, running his hands through his hair, never quite able to break the habit.

Finn had texted him the address the night before. It was only a ten minute walk and so, at promptly 8:45, Logan left the hotel and hurried down the street, following the blue line on his phone.

It took him only seven minutes to get there. He loitered outside for a moment, watching the city. The streets were crowded like always, cars and pedestrians all trying to get somewhere in a hurry. An old conversation passed through his mind as he waited, a night out with Finn and Leo before they’d gotten together.

“Should we have gone left?”

“We’re literally following the blue line.”

“I know, but that way looks shorter.”

“New Yorker, forever in a hurry.”

The conversation brought the sting that normally accompanied thoughts of Leo. But it faded a bit as he remembered that night, Leo asking them questions about their histories, how they’d met. Neither of them had told the true story of how they’d met, that night at the party, both drunk and flirty and not quite thinking straight. He remembered Leo’s smile, the dimples he’d fallen in love with the first time he’d ever seen them. He remembered Finn’s bright smile and care-free attitude, getting sappy and losing coherent speech with each drink he consumed. And he wished, just for a moment, he could go back to that night.

A hand on his shoulder shook him from his thoughts. He startled, whipping around on instinct. But as soon as he caught sight of the person now in front of him, he froze.

Finn looked nearly the same as he had a year ago. His curls were unruly as ever, falling around his eyes, just a little bit longer. His eyes were dimmer, more subdued than they usually were. No smile graced his face, but he wasn’t frowning.

“Hi,” Finn said softly and Logan nearly melted.

“Finn.” Without a second thought, Logan crashed into his arms. Finn held him close and it was as if no time had passed at all. Their bodies molded together the way they always did, and the feeling of home nearly made Logan cry. He hadn’t realized how much he’d missed physical contact until suddenly he was being held again, for the first time in probably a year. Without a word, he buried his face in Finn’s shoulder, hair brushing his cheek.

“I missed you so fucking much,” Finn whispered fiercely into his ear. He pulled away, but kept his arms around Logan, as if afraid he would run if he let go.

“Me too.” He sniffed, telling himself it was just the cold air making his eyes water.

“C’mon, let’s go inside. I have so much to fill you in on.”

They went into the café, charming and small, and got in line, Finn asking Logan question after question about where he’d travelled and what he’d seen. They skirted around the reason he’d left, pretending it had all just been a long vacation. They ordered and sat down, Finn only teasing him a bit about his ridiculously sweet coffee, before continuing his questions.

It was only after they’d exhausted talk of Logan’s travels that silence fell between them.

“I wish Leo was here,” Finn said eventually.

“Me too.”

“He could’ve made us those amazing muffins of his, remember those?”

Logan smiled. “Yeah. Brought ‘em in our first day of the mission. Mon dieu, those were good.”

“Yeah, they were,” he agreed.

“How have you been?” Logan asked. “And tell me the truth. You’ve been bombarding me with questions since we got here. I don’t even know what you’ve been up to.”

Finn sighed. “It’s been really fucking hard. That’s the truth. Because not only did I lose Leo, then I lost you too. And you don’t- you never answered my calls or my messages. I needed to talk to you and you wouldn’t pick up. I had to go through that without you. You were the only other person who knew how I felt, and we could’ve helped each other. But you refused to even look at me, and-” Finn shrugged helplessly- “I’ve tried really hard to forgive you, Lo. But I’m not sure I can. You haven’t made it easy to love you.”

“You still love me?”

“Of course I fucking love you! I never stopped!”

Logan was taken aback by the outburst. He glanced furtively around the room to see if anyone was looking at them, but no one even glanced their way. Finn noticed and sighed.

“Logan, I don’t want to go another year without talking to you. It was torture. I know… I know that we can’t be us again, not the way we used to be, not without Leo. But can we at least be friends? Tremz, I miss my best friend. Please. Don’t walk away from me again.”

Silence fell between them and Logan surveyed the man before him. The man he’d once loved with all his heart, once vowed to himself to never let go, to protect and love and cherish. That had been a year ago. A lot had changed in that year.

But as Finn waited for his answer with bated breath, Logan realized he didn’t want to run anymore.

#angst #more angsty angst #love you guyssss #hehe #mentions of death tw #mentions of blood tw #lumosinlove #clandestine #o'knutzy #sorry not sorry

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wherearemyglassesbro · 3 years

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Ok the actor Au ive been thinking about- I’m almost positive that this is has been done before so if I’ve somehow managed to create an exact copy of someone else’s au lemme know!!! I’ll credit them!! 😅😅

Al and Matt did the whole ‘twins play one(1) child and switch between scenes when the other gets tired’ thing like the twins on Full House. Mattie technically got more screen time cause he was more mellow!! They’ve been in the television/entertainment industry since they were 3 or so!! So they’ve got a fair amount of experience!! As they’ve grown up they’ve both taken on less serious roles in comedies(Al) and rom-coms(Matt). When casting opened up for Hetalia neither had heard of it but thought it would be funny to at least audition!! In the beginning, Alfred auditioned for America cause he’s just great at being over the top like that BUT Matt auditioned for Sweden!!! He was happy when he got Canada though, that meant he got to hang with Alfred more! They haven’t had a role together in a long time!! These two are so funny though like it’s so hard for them to keep a straight face when they’re around eachother!! Especially when Kuma is in the room cause it’s a CGI bear....Which means there’s a man in a green ping pong ball suit running around Matt’s feet!! It’s un-BEAR-ably funny!! Alfred takes so many behind the scenes pictures too and hes constantly reminded that he’s getting a bit TOO CLOSE TO SPOILING THINGS lmao

Fran’s been in the industry since he was 15, his first role being the cute but mischievous son of a businessman looking for love. Ah, good times. Francis’s younger sister had a huge anime phase and he had to live through that lmao so he knew what Hetalia was!! He thought it would be funny to audition and didn’t tell her just in case he didn’t get the role. He grew a beard dyed his hair blonde for the audition which was WAY too much effort lmao. Fran used the most over exaggerated French accent he could muster...He got the part on the spot, the casting crew loved him since he’s just a naturally funny guy. But the kicker is that Fran is a Louisianan...So his real accent is a mix of southern and French. He is French! But not full fledged. Que the ‘it was a....fake accent??’ ‘of COURSE it was fake!!!!>:D!!’ He makes a habit of talking like that on set so the crew is always surprised when he switches out of French and into Southern French, it’s kinda jarring!! He can also do a scary good British accent....It’s a little too good for someone who claims to dislike the British :/ ALSO France has his fair share of naked scenes which was a tad uncomfortable for Francis at first but he made it work. In reality, he was running around in tan bikini bottoms for those scenes but the censor bar and roses were added later in the editing stage. Those days were super funny for him but also super cold!!! Being ‘naked’ for hours on set like that with fans blowing to keep the air circulating....it was COLD!!

Artie’s actually an Englishman stationed in LA for other film roles. He’s casted as an assassin/butler in a superhero franchise so he moved to be closer to the set. Arthur’s audition is a great story wow. He heard about the audition accidentally through some friends! They all auditioned together as a joke!! But Art actually got in and decided he’d have a good time so why not just stick with it. He originally auditioned for America cause he thought it would be funny for an englishman to be America but he was casted as England which, looking back, isnt much of a surprise. The funny part is that Arthur is short. He’s 5’3. But Francis and Alfred are both 5’9 and 6’1 respectively!! And England is canonically the same height as France!! So the costuming department put lifts in Art’s shoes oh my gosh- poor guy is just harassed(good naturedly) by the others constantly!! Poor shortie. One of the hardest scenes to film was when he had to disguise himself as an Italian, remember that scene?? Well Ludwig, Alfred and Feliciano were all out of frame trying so hard not to laugh and Art just sees them smacking eachother and covering their mouths out of the corner of his eye- then he just loses it every time!!! ‘G-Get out of here!! Idiots- good lord, out!!!’ Also the eyebrows ARE FAKE!! They’re made of real hair though 0-0 Arthur thinks they’re so gross and makes a :/ face in the mirror every time he sees them

Aight, that’s all I got for now ✌️😎

#Hetalia actors au #just the face fam this time #cause it’s late and I’m tired #you won’t see this until like 10:40am tho cause I’m drop kicking it into the queue #aph #hetalia #ask away!#headcanons #hetalia headcanons #asks #always up for hc requests #aph france #aph england #aph america #aph canada

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fictionadventurer · 3 years

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Father Brown Reread: The Absence of Mr. Glass

The consulting-rooms of Dr Orion Hood, the eminent criminologist and specialist in certain moral disorders, lay along the sea-front at Scarborough, in a series of very large and well-lighted french windows, which showed the North Sea like one endless outer wall of blue-green marble.

I like how the first and second collections both start with a story focusing on a professional detective who’s not Father Brown.

True to form, we’ve got a color word in the first sentence. And not only that--a hypenated color word! You don’t get much more Chesterton than that.

Everything about him and his room indicated something at once rigid and restless, like that great northern sea by which (on pure principles of hygiene) he had built his home. Fate, being in a funny mood, pushed the door open and introduced into those long, strict, sea-flanked apartments one who was perhaps the most startling opposite of them and their master.

Highlighting this because “Fate, being in a funny mood” is a great phrase.

But also because I love when the stories contrast Father Brown’s clumsy, homely shabbiness with characters who look more distinguished and accomplished.

"My name is Brown. Pray excuse me. I've come about that business of the MacNabs. I have heard, you often help people out of such troubles. Pray excuse me if I am wrong."

It’s odd that Father Brown is consulting another detective on this. He doesn’t seem the sort to seek out other help. He usually just winds up on the scene of the crime by accident.

It seems like he should have the confidence to solve the mystery himself.

It seems like the more natural way to bring Hood into the story would be to have the girl approach Dr. Hood and Father Brown just to be at the house for priest reasons before figuring out the mystery.

But maybe Father Brown’s stumped from lack of evidence and doesn’t have the time for an investigation. (Actually paying attention to his priestly duties for once?)

After all, it’s only luck that the crisis that gives them an excuse to investigate the apartment happens two minutes later.

And of course, the whole point of the story is getting this Holmes detective to the same crime scene as Father Brown to contrast their methods, so it doesn’t much matter how he gets there.

And there is a lot of fun in seeing shabby little Father Brown in this professional detective’s immaculate study.

"Oh, this is of the greatest importance," broke in the little man called Brown. "Why, her mother won't let them get engaged." And he leaned back in his chair in radiant rationality.

It’s not a full-fledged Father Brown story unless the mystery is centered on a romance, is it?

A stock Chesterton exchange: foolish-looking character says simple, silly-sounding statement as if it’s the most sensible thing in the world, before being forced to elaborate by a confused listener.

This story gives us Father Brown at his most silly-seeming. Here he’s not just unassuming and sheltered; he seems like one of Chesterton’s holy fools. He hasn’t looked this simple-minded since “The Blue Cross”

"Mr Brown," he said gravely, "it is quite fourteen and a half years since I was personally asked to test a personal problem: then it was the case of an attempt to poison the French President at a Lord Mayor's Banquet. It is now, I understand, a question of whether some friend of yours called Maggie is a suitable fiancee for some friend of hers called Todhunter. Well, Mr Brown, I am a sportsman. I will take it on. I will give the MacNab family my best advice, as good as I gave the French Republic and the King of England--no, better: fourteen years better. I have nothing else to do this afternoon. Tell me your story."

Sure, he’s a condescending ass, but I can’t help liking this guy. He’s got a good heart and a good sense of humor.

I kind of wish he’d have showed up in at least one or two other stories (preferably with a better end than Valentine).

The little clergyman called Brown thanked him with unquestionable warmth, but still with a queer kind of simplicity. It was rather as if he were thanking a stranger in a smoking-room for some trouble in passing the matches, than as if he were (as he was) practically thanking the Curator of Kew Gardens for coming with him into a field to find a four-leaved clover.

I like this metaphor very much.

Brown is still very, very much the simple little curate of “The Blue Cross”. But with the bumpkin traits turned up to eleven.

I’m very curious about Dr. Hood’s past cases, and how he achieved such renown.

"I told you my name was Brown; well, that's the fact, and I'm the priest of the little Catholic Church I dare say you've seen beyond those straggly streets, where the town ends towards the north.

Yet another parish! How many is this? This seems like the most distant, rural parish that Father Brown has yet had.

And Father Brown’s actually doing some work at it!

He seems to have quite a pocketful of money, but nobody knows what his trade is. Mrs MacNab, therefore (being of a pessimistic turn), is quite sure it is something dreadful, and probably connected with dynamite. The dynamite must be of a shy and noiseless sort, for the poor fellow only shuts himself up for several hours of the day and studies something behind a locked door. He declares his privacy is temporary and justified, and promises to explain before the wedding.

Doesn’t the landlady have a key to the door of her own lodger? Can’t she just demand to look?

British people, I tell you.

Unless the daughter is preventing her from looking, out of respect for her beloved.

And, you know, he does promise to explain, so it’d be rude to just barge in.

So why bother consulting the great detective in the first place? If Todhunter’s really on the up-and-up, he’ll explain eventually, they’ll get engaged, and all will be well.

he is tirelessly kind with the younger children, and can keep them amused for a day on end

Given Todhunter’s chosen profession, this makes perfect sense.

You see, therefore, how this sealed door of Todhunter's is treated as the gate of all the fancies and monstrosities of the 'Thousand and One Nights'.

Another Father Brown mystery built upon a fairy tale atmosphere.

To the scientific eye all human history is a series of collective movements, destructions or migrations, like the massacre of flies in winter or the return of birds in spring. Now the root fact in all history is Race. Race produces religion; Race produces legal and ethical wars. There is no stronger case than that of the wild, unworldly and perishing stock which we commonly call the Celts, of whom your friends the MacNabs are specimens. Small, swarthy, and of this dreamy and drifting blood, they accept easily the superstitious explanation of any incidents, just as they still accept (you will excuse me for saying) that superstitious explanation of all incidents which you and your Church represent.

A lot of the most racist characters in Chesterton are the most educated, scientific and progressive.

Granted, Chesterton does a lot of stereotyping along national lines himself. But usually it’s not with the idea that these differences are bad things. And certainly not with the idea that race is the cause of all war.

the door opened on a young girl, decently dressed but disordered and red-hot with haste. She had sea-blown blonde hair,

Is this the first blonde female love interest in these stories?

They were quarrelling—about money, I think—for I heard James say again and again, 'That's right, Mr Glass,' or 'No, Mr Glass,' and then, 'Two or three, Mr Glass.'

Given the eventual explanation of what’s really happening here, wouldn’t she have heard some other noises (possibly crashing noises?) alongside this?

"I do not think this young lady is so Celtic as I had supposed. As I have nothing else to do, I will put on my hat and stroll down town with you."

Wow, you were really just going to disbelieve her because of her nationality, weren’t you?

Playing-cards lay littered across the table or fluttered about the floor as if a game had been interrupted. Two wine glasses stood ready for wine on a side-table, but a third lay smashed in a star of crystal upon the carpet. A few feet from it lay what looked like a long knife or short sword, straight, but with an ornamental and pictured handle, its dull blade just caught a grey glint from the dreary window behind, which showed the black trees against the leaden level of the sea. Towards the opposite corner of the room was rolled a gentleman's silk top hat, as if it had just been knocked off his head; so much so, indeed, that one almost looked to see it still rolling. And in the corner behind it, thrown like a sack of potatoes, but corded like a railway trunk, lay Mr James Todhunter, with a scarf across his mouth, and six or seven ropes knotted round his elbows and ankles. His brown eyes were alive and shifted alertly.

The clues are laid out very nicely here.

This is one of the most Romantic (in the literary sense of the term) crime scenes in all of fiction. Every clue is as picturesque as possible.

"How to explain the absence of Mr Glass and the presence of Mr Glass's hat? For Mr Glass is not a careless man with his clothes. That hat is of a stylish shape and systematically brushed and burnished, though not very new. An old dandy, I should think." "But, good heavens!" called out Miss MacNab, "aren't you going to untie the man first?"

This entire segment is so funny. I laugh every time one of his long-winded deductions is interrupted by the common-sense demand to untie the man.

Now, surely it is obvious that there are the three chief marks of the kind of man who is blackmailed. And surely it is equally obvious that the faded finery, the profligate habits, and the shrill irritation of Mr Glass are the unmistakable marks of the kind of man who blackmails him. We have the two typical figures of a tragedy of hush money:

So much of the Holmesian deduction process relies on stereotypes, doesn’t it? Sure, Holmes doesn’t label people in “types” quite this way, but it relies on using the evidence to reach the most stereotypical conclusion without factoring in the random possibilities of life. (The suspect might have ink on his hands, but it doesn’t mean he’s a clerk). It’s fun that this story calls out that conceit.

"No; I think these ropes will do very well till your friends the police bring the handcuffs."

Okay, so there’s a sensible explanation for why Hood ignores their cries to untie Todhunter. But it doesn’t make the previous exchanges any less funny to read.

"But the ropes?" inquired the priest, whose eyes had remained open with a rather vacant admiration.

It’s interesting that Father Brown’s actually buying into this. My memory had him being more skeptical of the deductions, but he’s admiring the chain of logic being built here.

It’s kind of a nice change from the usual Chesterton tack of the mouthpiece character disdaining every scientific explanation.

It was not the blank curiosity of his first innocence. It was rather that creative curiosity which comes when a man has the beginnings of an idea. "Say it again, please," he said in a simple, bothered manner; "do you mean that Todhunter can tie himself up all alone and untie himself all alone?" "That is what I mean," said the doctor. "Jerusalem!" ejaculated Brown suddenly, "I wonder if it could possibly be that!"

And we’re off! I always love the moment when Father Brown puts everything together, and it’s especially satisfying here, after he’s spent the whole story sitting back and letting another man do all the detective work.

"His eyes do look queer," cried the young woman, strongly moved. "You brutes; I believe it's hurting him!" "Not that, I think," said Dr Hood; "the eyes have certainly a singular expression. But I should interpret those transverse wrinkles as expressing rather such slight psychological abnormality—" "Oh, bosh!" cried Father Brown: "can't you see he's laughing?"

Each sentence gives a vivid picture of the three different personalities here. The tender-hearted young woman. The too-practical man of science. And the brash common sense of Father Brown.

He shuffled about the room, looking at one object after another with what seemed to be a vacant stare, and then invariably bursting into an equally vacant laugh, a highly irritating process for those who had to watch it.

Irritating to watch, I’m sure, but very amusing to imagine.

"But a hatter," protested Hood, "can get money out of his stock of new hats. What could Todhunter get out of this one old hat?" "Rabbits," replied Father Brown promptly.

I love the hat conversation and these lines in particular.

He was also practising the trick of a release from ropes, like the Davenport Brothers

According to Wikipedia, the Davenport Brothers were an American magician act that toured England in the 1860s. They built on the Spiritualism craze and claimed all their tricks were done by spirit power. There isn’t much about what their tricks wer, (besides a couple of escape tricks and spirit cabinet things). Most of the Wikipedia article is about the many times their tricks were debunked. (Naturally, Sir Arthur Conan Doyle refused to believe they were frauds).

But the mere fact of an idler in a top hat having once looked in at his back window, and been driven away by him with great indignation, was enough to set us all on a wrong track of romance, and make us imagine his whole life overshadowed by the silk-hatted spectre of Mr Glass."

This isn’t so much a debunking of the Holmesian deduction methods as a case study proving why logical deductions have to be built upon sound premises. One mistake at the beginning can send you in a completely false direction.

"You are certainly a very ingenious person," he said; "it could not have been done better in a book.

I love when the characters get meta.

This is a very snide remark in context, but of course Father Brown proves himself.

Mr Brown broke into a rather childish giggle. "Well, that," he said, "that's the silliest part of the whole silly story. When our juggling friend here threw up the three glasses in turn, he counted them aloud as he caught them, and also commented aloud when he failed to catch them. What he really said was: 'One, two and three—missed a glass one, two—missed a glass.' And so on."

I can’t explain how deeply I love that the entire mystery is built on a pun. This one section is the reason this is one of my favorite Father Brown stories.

This drives home the idea that mysteries and jokes are the same types of story. They both require laying out information that’s put together into a surprising conclusion.

There was a second of stillness in the room, and then everyone with one accord burst out laughing. As they did so the figure in the corner complacently uncoiled all the ropes and let them fall with a flourish. Then, advancing into the middle of the room with a bow, he produced from his pocket a big bill printed in blue and red, which announced that ZALADIN, the World's Greatest Conjurer, Contortionist, Ventriloquist and Human Kangaroo would be ready with an entirely new series of Tricks at the Empire Pavilion, Scarborough, on Monday next at eight o'clock precisely.

I grew up on cheesy sitcoms. I’m a sucker for the “everyone laughs” ending.

If Todhunter’s willing to admit the truth here, he could have saved himself a lot of trouble by just admitting the truth right away. (I don’t buy the “he keeps it secret to keep his tricks secret” explanation. You can tell people you’d a magician without giving away everything about your act).

Does Mrs. MacNab let them get married? Now she knows he has a harmless vocation, but it’s not exactly a stable one. Would she let her daughter marry a guy so flighty that he can’t even settle on a coherent focus for his own stage show?

Given that the story ends here, we’re supposed to assume that she does. I guess he must be a successful performer--part of her mistrust came from the fact that he had too much money. So he and Maggie should have a comfortable life together.

I’m glad. He seems like a nice young man.

#lb this is all your fault #father brown reread #father brown #g.k. chesterton #the wisdom of father brown #the absence of mr. glass #i remember why i stopped doing these things #they take forever #'but they wouldn't take forever if you didn't comment on every second sentence'#'be quiet logical brain'#this one feels very subpar but i'm out of practice

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rreeaahh · 3 years

Text

Noble Chantage | Fred Weasley (01)

CHAPTER 1 - “Everything is fine”

WORD COUNT - 4,257; wrote in first person perspective, because i thought it’ll be easier to connect with the character and it’ll make it more personal for you, guys.

SUMMARY - Nothing in a life of a Pureblood goes as it’s expected.

WARNINGS - none i can think of.

TAGLIST (message me if you want to be added) - @lucymfer @prongsyy @famdomhideout @anywherebuthere

“Mat’, I can’t find my earrings!” I shouted while walking in my room, to the door and then to the window, worrying like crazy about a small thing like a lost pair of earrings – they were a birthday gift from my parents when I became a Hogwarts student. Silver with green and shinny little stones, that pair of earrings was meant to show my parents’ pride to have another child sorted into the House of Salazar Slytherin, like the whole family.

Nispy, the house elf who had been looking after me since I was a little girl, was walking behind me and repeating: “Nispy didn’t lose them, Miss, Nispy was careful with them,” but I barely heard her because of my own thoughts.

I wouldn’t be so concerned about some lost jewelry, the box on my beauty-table being full of them, but I was in a rush – the ball my family was hosting was ready to begin and I had no time to lose, searching them. The door was open and my mother came in, already dressed and styled, an angry look on her face.

“What in the name of Koschei are you doing, Y/N?’ she asked in her deep Russian accent, which made her somehow more mad than I already did, ‘The guests will be here in any minute and you’re not ready.”

Ignoring the urge to roll my eyes at her, I preferred to have an apologetic face, nearly ashamed. “I really am sorry, mat’, I just can’t find the emerald earrings you and papa gave me when I got my letter, I know how much you liked those,” I told her in a whisper, my head down, looking at the tip of my black shoes.

I could hear her sigh, then footsteps which leaded to my jewelry box, starting to search for them – that made me scared; she always find whatever I lose and then she’s even angrier.

“Those ones?” she spoke and when my eyes went in her direction, she was holding them between her thumb and pointing finger, both of them decorated in golden rings. Anastasia Rosier always wore gold and never silver, like the rest of the family, because she was a proud woman from Russia, from a rich family and she always wanted to keep that in people’s eyes.

“Yes, mat’,” I smiled and approached her, observing how her eyes lighten up when I said the word she wanted me to call her. It was a little strange to call her by the Russian term of the word ‘mother’, while my father preferred the French version, but that applied only between us. “Thank you,” I said and she smiled, putting a strand of hair which was falling from my sophisticated bun behind my ear, and then helping me put the jewelry in my ears.

“You’re beautiful, darling,” she told me with honesty in her voice. I looked at myself in the mirror and I could only agree with her – the dark green dress, laced with black flowers on its hem, was hugging my chest and waist perfectly while the emerald jewelry was making my guise more precious. My mother was very proud every time she was looking at me – I was her greatest pride, as she always reminded me, being careful not to be heard by my elder brother, Felix.

“Come on, your father and brother are probably waiting for us downstairs already,” she told me, heading out of my room. “Oh,’ she said looking back, ‘and Nispy, I also want you to come down, you’re going to serve the guests appetizers.”

“Yes, Madam,” the elf responded, hurrying to follow her out of my room.

I glanced for the last time in my room, to the four walls full of book shelves and paintings made by me and my mother. The room gave me a feeling of comfort every time I was in there, but the rest of the house seemed always to be cold and strange, like it wasn’t the place where I lived since I was born.

Despite of my parents foreign roots, I always lived in England, in a house at the river bank, with a big garden and a lot of flowers – ironically, most of them being roses. I never felt isolated from the rest of the world because of this type of events – even before going to Hogwarts, I met a lot of kids who were like me at Merlin knows what ball or what wedding or whatsoever; I grew up being surrounded by purebloods and I was raised to respect them to a point: they are my equals, not my superiors; I actually could consider myself superior, given the wealthy situation of my family and the title of ‘The Noble and Most Ancient House of Rosier’.

The long hall had a floral wallpaper and dark floor, which made the room seem very old, as the whole house did, in fact. Merlin knows how many generations lived here before me, because despite of the Family Tapestry, I never counted all the names. I only knew that I had a lot of reasons to feel watched when I would walk around, because of all the portraits hanged on the walls. Actually, this little party was thrown to celebrate the new painting my family asked a famous painter to make and also the restoration of all the paintings in the entire house – so, many, many portraits.

I went down the left steps while my mother went on the right side, both of us reaching the middle, where my father and Felix were waiting for us. On the ground floor, where my parents wanted to have a little space for a dance ring, where a lot of people, all of them familiar faces I’d recognize as being Purebloods, their children being my housemates and some of them classmates, roommates or even friends – distant relatives, short said.

“Welcome, friends!” the voice of my father was heard, making the crowd stop chatting. “It’s a pleasure to see you all here, celebrating with us a big joy for our family,’ he smiled and my mother shared his feelings, ‘Tonight is the moment we all will see the last generation of Rosiers, all together!” he announced and I looked at him with big eyes, but I went all smiley fast enough for nobody to see. The look on my mother’s face was blank, emotionless, and I started to feel strange. “Let’s party properly!” my father continued, raising his left arm and encouraging the people to go back to whatever they were doing.

I gently grabbed Felix’s arm, the material of his suit being soft at touch and both of us starting to go down the marble stair, all the eyes in the entire room on the Rosier family. I putted on my happiest smile, because I was a star, after all. Everybody knew my name and considered me to have the life everybody wished for. I already knew all the women were admiring my dress and jewelry, the girls my age probably being jealous for the way I looked.

“I think aunt Tatiana will be happy to see you, Y/N,” my brother told me when we were at the base of the stairs, and I looked up at him, confused.

“She came here all the way from Russia?”

He nodded, making me scan the room, looking at the alcohol table to search her – after my cousin’s imprisoning, she found a little happiness in strong drinks. I couldn’t blame her.

“But before that, prepare to be nice – the Malfoys are coming our way,” he rolled his eyes, looking behind me.

“Felix, Y/N,” spoke my mother, beside her being my cousin Narcissa and her family, “Look who’s here with us!”

She absolutely loved Narcissa, as you also did – Cissy was by far my favorite cousin: she was kind and funny but also she gave me that ‘older sister’ feeling, which I absolutely appreciated. It’s true that it wasn’t hard to be the favorite cousin, considering the rest of them were dead, imprisoned or – worst – banished. What I didn’t like when it came to Narcissa, was the man she married – Lucius Malfoy always gave me a bad feeling, but I kept it to myself.

“Good evening, Narcissa,’ my brother greeted her, kissing the back of her hand like our father told him to do at this kind of events, ‘Lucius,” he said while shaking his hand, the older man having a bright smile on his lips. My brother also greeted Draco, who grew up taller than me, something that made me realized I haven’t see him the entire summer.

“Look at you, Y/N,’ Narcissa smiled while she dragged me into a tight hug, ‘you’re absolutely gorgeous! I love the dress and, oh, the earrings darling!”

“You’re beautiful too, Cissy,” I smiled to her but my smile lost its shine as soon as I felt her husband’s hand grabbing mine.

“Don’t be shy, Y/N,’ he told me, ‘you heard your father, tonight is about you,” he reminded me, kissing the back of my hand – something he never did before, no matter the circumstances; and it was something that scared me. If he kissed my hand it meant that he sees me as a woman, not a child anymore.

I tried to play it cool, to nod my head in agreement and look at my mother, who was already gone talking to the Goyle spouses. Felix had hard feelings for both Narcissa and Lucius, but he had no problem with Draco. Feeling my anxiety he touched my back and smiled politely.

“Sister, why don’t you show Draco the new piano I got you from Russia?”

Felix worked in Russia in the name of the Vulchanov family, managing the house my grandparents lived in. He always got me presents when he came back to England, to make up for the fact that he and my parents didn’t want me to visit him there.

“Of course, Felix,’ I also smiled up to him, thanking him that he got me rid of an embarrassing situation, ‘Follow me, Draco,” I asked and started to walk to the middle of the room, making my way in the crowd.

“What was that?” he asked, trying to keep up with me.

I looked at him only after I reached the wooden black piano, which had my name scratched on its surface. Draco Malfoy looked exactly like his father – the blonde hair, pale skin and icy blue eyes; but something in him reminded me of Narcissa, because under the coldness of his stare, I’d always see some warm. That warm was still present then, after a long time when we hadn’t see each other, mainly because of our parents, who were very occupied. Mine more than usual, actually.

“Nothing,’ I smiled casually, hiding the fact that his father crept me out, ‘I’m just nervous about this night.”

Draco raised his brows at me but decided to forget it, acting like he believed me. “What did your father mean?’ he asked, ‘All together?”

Sighing, I rested my hand on the piano. “I have no idea, kid.”

He wanted to hiss at me for calling him like that, but he was interrupted by the music. A dancing melody filled the room, the piano and violin sounds pairing together and resulting a beautiful song – I would recognize it as my mother’s favorite, the one she always asked me and Felix to play together when we were little. A lot of time had passed since me and my brother played together, side by side, but I had to accept the idea that him and I were on different paths.

“Let’s dance,” I asked Draco who wanted to refuse me, but I already was dragging him to the dance floor, in the middle of the crowd.

I made a bow, like I was taught, and Draco took my hand in his, his other hand resting on my back while mine was on his shoulder. We started to dance and I knew we were watched because I’d see them when Draco was spinning me like a ballerina. The dress was fluttering with every move I was making and the room was filled with laughs and joy, everybody starting to have a good time.

“Could I steal your partner?” Adrian Pucey asked behind Draco, Pansy Parkinson having her hand around his arm.

Pansy greeted me with her eyes, the envy being obvious but still good hidden. The Parkinsons were on a lower level, as my father said once, so the girl’s hard feelings for me were somehow logical. My cousin’s son glanced at me like he asked my approval, even if in fact he was the one who could tell the answer – the men decide for the women in this world, and sometimes it’s exhausting me.

“It’d be a pleasure to dance with you, Adrian,” I smiled when Draco stood still, but he let go of my hand and Pansy smiled before taking my place.

My classmate gently grabbed me, his hands having more experience than Draco’s. He pulled me closer and started to take me to the edge of the dance ring, where the people were fewer and the music was quieter.

“I missed your face, Rosier,” Adrian started his speech. “You barely answered my owls.”

“I was very busy this summer, Pucey,’ I laughed, ‘I’ve been to France and then I had a lot of things to do.”

“Like ignoring me?”

I wanted so hard to roll my eyes and tell him to let me be, but the thought of embarrassing my parents in front of the Pucey family was keeping me back.

“Like doing girl stuff, Adrian,” I smiled and continued to dance slower to the music. I knew Adrian was interested in me, but I couldn’t respond to his overtures because of many reasons.

“Then I’m glad school’s starting next week,” he said and traced his fingers up and down my back, giving me goosebumps.

“Only two days until we’ll both be drown in homework and essays.”

He sighed and smirked, “No, darling, two more days until the best year of our lives.”

“What makes you so sure?” I raised my brow as he simply shrugged.

“I have a feeling.”

“Attention, please!” spoke my mother from the end of the stairs, my father being beside her, with his arm around her waist.

“The time had come,’ he announced as a lot of paintings started to float around the room, the crowd clapping, ‘Take a look at the old generations of Rosiers!”

I pulled away from Adrian, his hand still on my back as we looked at the family portraits. I’d recognized a painting of my father and his sister, Druella, when they were still in school, the green ties around their necks. Other family members, many of them dead before I could meet them, were also present through the paintings.

“Is that you?” Adrian whispered, pointing to a portrait who was restored.

I chuckled. “No, that’s my grandmother, Florinda.”

The boy seemed to be confused as he looked at me, at the painting and then at me again. “You two look identical.”

“We look alike,’ I agreed, ‘and I also got her wand when I could perform magic.”

The fact that I was one of the very few kids in the entire Hogwarts with a hand-down wand was strange in many opinion. But the wand wasn’t mine because we couldn’t afford a new one, as some thought when I got it, it’s because it’s a family tradition to have the wand of a death relative – a wand fromm your family, a wand which chooses you.

“And now,’ spoke Anselm Rosier, ‘let me present you the newest painting of my family; something me and my wife, Anastasia, love very much: our children. The Rosier brothers and their little sister!”

I could feel the emotions in my father’s voice but I was left dry as soon as I saw the big frame in the air, above my parents. Me, in a white beautiful dress, with precious jewelry around my neck and fingers, standing on a piano chair, as three boys were behind me: Evan on my left, Felix in the middle and Boniface on my right, all of them having their hands on my shoulders, like they’d be protecting me. We were all smiling bright and the portrait felt like my biggest desire and my biggest nightmare at the same time – even if I saw two of my elder brothers only in paintings, I knew the older versions of them were how they should look like by now. My heart was racing like crazy and only the touch of Adrian reminded me where I was and how I should act.

“Are you ok, Y/N?” he asked, worried.

“Yes, only surprised,” I half lied – it was a surprised but I wasn’t ok at all. But that have been my life since forever: lie with a smile on will make things better.

***

The people started to leave our house one by one and near midnight there where only some close family friends. I was talking to Theodore Nott and Draco about some books they’ll need in Transfiguration while Adrian and Marcus were on my couch, talking to my brother about Quidditch, all of them loving that sport.

“Excuse me for a moment, boys,” I asked them and I grabbed the hem of my dress to make walking easier, having in mind to ask Nispy for a glass of water. But on my way to kitchen I’ve changed my mind, going to the east wing of the house, the place where was my father’s office, the library and the room of my family’s tapestry, along with all the paintings.

The hall was dark, some candles hanged on the walls to light the way. I opened the room where my mother usually paints, the smell of tincture and oil entering my nose and slightly burning it. On a stand was the portrait of me and my brothers, calling me, asking me to come and look at it.

So I did – I went in front of it and I stared at it for many minutes until I realized the existence of tears in my eyes. The fact that I’ve never properly knew Evan and Boni made me want to scream in that moment – mat’ never spoke of them and papa only told me minimal information: how they died, when they died and how they were before the tragedy – smart, bold, cunning, brave, polite; they were everything I couldn’t have, the only thing I could only dream of.

“A lady like you shouldn’t be crying.”

I shuddered and looked behind me, where in the door frame Lucius Malfoy was standing.

“A gentleman shouldn’t stalk a girl.”

It was the first time when I couldn’t keep my mouth shut and my head down in front of an adult – this should be an intimate moment and that blonde git is ruining it.

“You don’t understand, Y/N,’ he laughed, ‘You’re not a little girl anymore. How old are you? Sixteen? Seventeen?”

I didn’t answer him; I was going to be seventeen that year.

“You’re a woman from now on, so act like one. I talked to your father and we both agreed that it’s not a bad idea to make sure you’re on your best behavior; so Draco will help us with it.”

***

I thought about Lucius’ words the entire night – I couldn’t sleep the entire weekend and I was looking at my papa, hoping he’ll tell me something about it, but he never did. I asked Nispy about it but Tondy, the other house elf, refused to talk to her about what he heard in his Master’s office.

Packing my stuff was always a burden, because I never knew what to bring along with me at Hogwarts – I needed to keep in mind the school’s rules but also be sure I have the best options. I was wearing a black skirt and a grey blouse when I came to the train station, my mat’ and Felix entering the platform 9 ¾ along with me.

“Are you sure you have enough warm clothes?” mat’ asked again and I looked at the three suitcases, wondering the same thing.

“I think she’s good, mat’,” Felix smiled and putted his hand on her shoulder.

My eyes were unconscious looking for a certain person and I didn’t realized it until my brother spoke again.

“Are you looking for that Pucey boy?”

“No,” I rushed to answer, casting mat’s attention.

“His father was talking to yours, Friday – something about how the boy’s interested in you for marriage, one day.”

My mouth dropped and I’m sure my eyes were twice wider. Feeling my fear, Felix continued:

“Papa told him they’ll see.”

That was calming me down a little – that was papa’s expression for when he wasn’t very interested in the subject.

“But he’s a good boy,” mat’ continued and I was never that happy to hear the train’s whistling in my entire life.

“I got to go,” I told her after I hugged Felix tight, already feeling how much I’ll miss him until Christmas. “I’ll write you when I get there, mat’,” I reminded her when she didn’t seem to want to let go of me.

“Take care, my precious,” she whispered before I could pull away, getting on the train and waving them goodbye.

As soon as I got into an empty compartment the train started to move, leaving me alone with my thoughts.

‘Evan died a venerable death,’ told me Lucius Malfoy Friday night, when he looked to the portrait.

All I knew about Evan’s death was the Dark Mark he had on his arm, and that was enough for me. I loved my brother very much, that’s a reason I never wanted to think about what he did in his living years.

“All by yourself?” asked Draco before entering the compartment with Theodore and Blaise.

“Not anymore,” I laughed and welcomed them in. They were all taller now, making me feel little despite of the two years gap between us.

They were all like some little brothers even if only Draco was directly related to me. The thing in this house, Slytherin, is that we’re all a nig family – it’s the only place I know I won’t be betrayed. But I feel like betraying them every time I’m sneaking around to see someone outside our house.

“I’ll be right back, boys,” I told them before leaving, happy to see the lady who carried sweets going to the compartment I left.

The train was moving fast, making me feel like walking on ice – careful and slow, a little Gryffindor nearly knocking me down when he passed by me with a camera in his hands. I recognized him as the boy who published photos and spread gossip about everything around the Hogwarts – I don’t know his name, but I know he’s the reason the whole school knows a lot of crap about me and a lot of other people.

“Be careful, kid,” I spat the words in his face, his face going as red as his robes.

“Sorry, Miss,” he whispered and I continued to walk away, he doing the same.

I couldn’t let a little Gryffindor ruin the enthusiasm who was building in my chest with every step I made – until a pair of hands grabbed my arms and pulled me inside a compartment, pulling the curtain.

“You could be more gentle, you know?” I asked the boy who was making my heart skip a beat, even if I wouldn’t admit it.

“But where would be the fun, sweetheart?” he responded, cupping my cheek and kissing my lips fast enough for me to not complain.

“I missed you.”

“You’re the one who doesn’t want us to write letters,” he laughed, mocking me.

The fear of my parents knowing about our link was stronger than my feelings and I had to admit it.

“And you know why,’ I sighed, ‘Friday we had a party and Adrian’s father told mine something about marriage,” I confessed, the stress taking control over me.

“Your father doesn’t like Adrian that much if I’m correct.”

“True,” I agreed and let his hands relax me.

“He doesn’t like me that much either,” he continued, kissing my neck gently.

“You’re lucky I like you,” I laughed, putting my hand around his neck.

“So you like me, after all.”

Even if we weren’t in an official relationship, I couldn’t deny that I liked him for real – but I wouldn’t say it out loud only because I’m scared.

I continued to enjoy his lips on my skin, and when he came back to my face, our lips centimeters away, I closed my eyes and waited for him to kiss me. In a fraction of a second a slight click was heard but the union of our lips made me ignore it. His hot tongue brushed my lower lip, asking for entrance, which I shyly gave him.

When we pulled apart I could swear I’ve seen a dark cloud of smoke fly faster than the train, giving me chills all over my body. I froze looking to the window, the air refusing to enter my lungs anymore.

“Y/N, are you ok?” he asked worried, and I prepared another lie, like I always did when he asked these type of questions.

“Yeah, I’m ok, Cedric,’ I smiled, gathering his hand, ‘Everything is fine.”

A/N: sorry if this is too boring:( ITS STILL A FREDDIE STORY HAVE PATIENCE MY LOVES, I LOVE DRAMA AND SLOWBURNS

#noble chantage #fred x reader #slytherin #gryffindor #rosier #draco #hogwarts #cedric diggory #fred x y/n #fred weasley x reader #Fred and George #weasley #love #reea writes

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chiantidinner · 3 years

Text

THE FORMERS

"Oh my God! You're Irene Adler!"

"Ah, Mary Watson. It's a pleasure that we finally meet."

~//~

Metallic revving of cars passing, keys jangling, and a door opening and revealing the ever-so-mysterious 221B Bakerstreet. Mary –being months pregnant with a baby girl– tried not to speed up the creaky flight of stairs to call upon the Great Sherlock Holmes for a murder case involving a missing photo frame Lestrade just informed her and John about.

The sight that beheld her though, was not Sherlock Holmes.

It was a woman.

The Woman, she realized as the slender woman turned around and a set of icy – but burning with intruige – light blue eyes lay on her wide blue green ones.

She had only ever imagined her through her husband's old blogs bearing or featuring the said woman's title, but as she lay eyes on her now; donning a grey turtleneck, faux leather pants, a coat that looks interestingly like Sherlocks but lighter, and her dark curly locks tied in a loose ponytail – she never expected her to look and be so... fascinating.

"Oh my God! You're Irene Adler!" Mary managed to choke out. Her previous look of surprise transformed into a look of amusement as she attempted to surpress her giggles, not even bothering covering her mouth to cover the smile etching slowly on her face. "The woman 'Sherlock refuses to talk about.", she said with sly amusement, the smile on her face practically heard as she spoke each syllable.

The former dominatrix narrowed her eyes at the former assassin – a look of realization, and a smirk then appearing on her features as she figured out who the other woman in the room was, "Ah, Mary Watson. It's a pleasure that we finally meet."

Her choice of words didn't come unnoticed by Mary, nor did it come as a surprise.

"But – you were.. dead?"

"Things don't always seem to remain as they are when it comes to Sherlock Holmes, doesn't it?" It was Irene's turn to return the amused look – but hers was a smirk, and was mixed with a hint of mischief. Her hips swayed a rhythm of defiance and boldness as she waltzed her way onto the detective's chair, and crossed her legs in a way that presented her dominance to Mary – but the latter didn't seem to bother, and instead lowered herself down on John's chair, encouraging her to carry on with the answers to her unsaid questions.

Irene hummed in satisfaction, her lips curling into a small smile but eyes narrowed into a mock surrender, as she studied Mary's over-attentive yet somehow still amused look, her gaze fixed purely on her. The Woman then took a breath and finally continued, "No. I told Sherlock once that I wanted people to be on my side, exactly when I needed them to be." She moved her gaze somewhere on the floor before starting once more, her own small –this time not mocking– smile on her lips, "Turns out old habits don't die when your head is practically being served on a silver platter."

She returned her gaze to Mary, only to find her dark blonde brows furrowed together, before realization hit her – face suddenly beaming and a snigger that she'd been trying to subdue, finally let out.

"H-he –Sherlock, the 'feelings-are-abhorrent-to-me', Sherlock– went after you, miles and miles away from England, and prevented you from being beheaded?" Mary asked in mere disbelief, though her smile still lingered and apparent, "Why.. would he do that?"

"I rather not ask questions the other can't give the answers to, Mrs. Watson." The Woman answered without missing a beat, her fingers tapping an inscrutable rhythm on the armrest. For the first time that day, she let her eyes wander the woman in front of her – then halting at her rather swollen stomach. She let her gaze linger there and she could tell Mary was becoming quite uncomfortable under it, from the way she shifted on the chair.

"I see there's a new addition to the family of adrenaline junkies, then." Irene's signature smirk gave way to a small smile, despite herself.

"You really are like Sherlock, aren't y-"

Before Mary could even finish her sentence, the door flew open and in came the Detective himself; pupils blown wide from the adrenaline, chest heaving up and down, and his intense gaze focused entirely on the mystery that is vacated on his leather armchair.

Recovering from a second's blip of surprise, Irene's mischevious smirk of delight occupied her features as she stared at him as intensely as Sherlock did – the latter finally turning to the woman that sat on his best friend's chair, noting the amused expression she donned and her comment:

"You have loads of explaining to do, Sherlock."

That, he did.

~//~

Quick Drabble!

Not my best work, word-wise, but I really liked the idea of Mary and Irene meeting before Sherlock could introduce both women, so they could create their own.. chemistry or connection of some sort – so here we are!

Also, forgive me for grammar, spelling, or other errors, I've been terribly drowsy these days so my brain activity was running low during my time writing this.

Hope you guys liked it :))

#adlock #irene adler #sherlock #mary morstan #bbc sherlock #adlock fanfics #lara pulver #amanda abbington #benedict cumberbatch #sherlock getting caught lol #well not technically but yknow what i mean

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scullyverse · 3 years

Text

Roses & Restraint: Chapter Two

Stella Gibson

Stella/Scully || multi-chapter || rating: E (Explicit)

Summary:

It's time to meet Stella.

Notes:

Co-creator of this universe: @notdeannatroi (Lieke) Thank you to the amazing Lieke who is not only co-creator but the best beta I could ever ask for!! <3 I hope you all enjoy this chapter!

Content warning: (f/m explicit sex scene, drinking)

Also available to read on AO3

Stella

London, England

September 1990

The rattle of the underground was soothing to Stella as she rested her head against the seat and adjusted the copy of The Letters of Virginia Woolf in her hands. It was the third trip she had made this week, each time taking only a single suitcase and bag with her with essentials from her father's house to her new dorm room. Brushing a stray strand of her short hair out of her eyes Stella looked up from her book when she felt the train begin to slow and the surroundings outside changed from buildings and trees to the cold concrete tunnels of the underground. She put her book into her backpack and made sure not to bend the cover before closing her bag and standing up.

Stella tugged her suitcase behind her up the aisle as the train swayed slightly when it slowed down and came to a stop just as she made her way towards the doors. It was fairly late and she was happy to have missed the after-work rush as now the train cars were quiet, only the odd few shift workers and people who were travelling into the city to maybe go out for a drink or dinner with friends.

Once the doors opened Stella lifted her suitcase onto the platform and began the familiar trip through the cool tunnels towards the exit. This was the last trip she had to take as she had managed to stuff the rest of her clothes and books into this suitcase. Everything she didn’t need to bring with her she had put into storage in case she would have use for it in the future. Once she had turned 18 she became the legal owner of her father’s estate and she had opted to sell it and all his belongings that didn’t hold some personal value for her; and those that did now sat in a rather full storage garage alongside her father’s car and her motorbike.

“Hey, girlie! Show us your tits!”

Stella looked up from her focus on the path ahead to see a group of young men standing together, eyes red and obviously drunk, leering at her with shit-eating grins on their faces. Rolling her eyes Stella flipped them off with her free hand and kept walking, pulling her bag further onto her shoulder. She was used to people’s attention, it wasn’t uncommon for her to be catcalled. Stella was proud of her body and didn’t mind showing it off but hated it when men saw that as an open invitation.

She heard them laugh at her answer before they turned and walked away. Finally stepping out onto the streets, Stella gave a slight shiver and swore to herself for not packing a jacket into her bag before leaving. In only black jeans and a white singlet top, she was hit with the chilly air that hadn’t been present before she left. It was amazing how quickly the temperature could drop when it slipped into the early hours of the night. Stella walked a little faster towards campus, wanting to get back there and grab a jacket before she left again to meet a few of her friends and celebrate their freedoms before classes started.

——♡——

Pushing open the door to her dorm room, Stella pulled her suitcase over the threshold before shutting the door behind her and moved further into the room. She decided she could unpack her suitcase later as she tossed her bag onto the bed and grabbed her leather jacket. Putting it over her shoulders, she stopped in front of the small mirror hanging on the back of her door to fix her appearance.

She took some time applying black eyeliner, dark red lipstick and dabbing a few drops of perfume to the skin of her wrists and the soft spots behind her ears before brushing her hair back with her fingers.

She hadn’t gone out for a couple of nights now and she was looking forward to some time to wind down and relax, maybe even relieve the aching want in her stomach. Stella had always loved sex and the release she was able to achieve from a quick, no feelings attached fuck. Stella didn’t do feelings. They made things far too complicated and she enjoyed her independence and not having those attachments which made her feel uncomfortable. The vulnerability was something she hated and she wasn’t going to just let people into her life so easily.

Stella reached into her bag to grab her wallet and pulled out her I.D, a few crinkled bills and a foiled condom, just in case, before stuffing them into her pocket along with the key to her room. Pulling the jacket tighter onto her body, she left her room, giving a nod to a few of the people walking the halls of the dorm before leaving and beginning the short walk to the club that sat on the corner a few streets down. It wasn’t the most appealing club but it had some pretty lax rules and she had been coming here since she had been well underage. Now it was a different story as she was of age but the dirty club still held a special place in her heart.

——♡——

The music inside was loud and the bass thumped through her body as Stella smiled and took a shot off the bar along with two of the friends who had joined her. Stella wasn’t one to have too many people close to her but she had a few that she would consider friends. Tossing her head back, Stella let the burning liquid slide down her throat before slamming the glass back down, always being the first to finish.

“Another?” Stella inquired as she waved down the bartender even though her friends both opted out of another shot.“Well, I guess more for me then.” Smirking, Stella ordered another one and gave the bartender some money.

Putting the change back into her pocket she quickly downed the shot before she felt someone bump into her shoulder. One of her friends had left the bar to dance with a wave and left Stella with Lani, the only girl friend she had, sitting at the bar together.

Lani raised her eyebrows towards the person who had bumped unceremoniously into her as Stella turned towards a young guy, his blonde hair spiked up and his green eyes staring right at her chest, where the stickiness of the air caused the fabric to cling to her damp skin. Putting her shot glass onto the bar, Stella went to turn back around to resume her conversation with Lani until she felt a hand on her shoulder.

“Hey sexy, can I buy you a drink?” The guy shouted, needing to do so to be heard over the music.

Stella could smell the alcohol on his breath as his hand slid down her arm. Stella turned her head to look at him, her eyes staring into his with a wave of intimidation, enough for him to get the message and take his hands off her shoulder. Lani smirked as she turned to order them both another drink and Stella gave her attention to the guy before her.

“Do I look like I’m interested in you?” Her tone was calm, even though she had to raise her voice to be heard.

His somewhat egotistical smile faltered slightly as her eyes rested on the glass of beer being presented to her by Lani. Taking the beer, she brought it to her lips, taking a sip before she noticed that he was still standing there, a dumb expression on his face. Obviously, he thought he was the type that didn’t get his advances rejected often.

“Didn’t you hear me? I’m not interested.” Stella reaffirmed.

“Come on, I’m just asking for one drink.” He shot back, a cocky smile back on his face.

Stella raised the drink in her hand. “I have a drink. And I’m not interested. Now fuck off.”

Stella raised her eyebrow at him before she rested herself back against the bar, watching him as she took another sip of her beer. He stood there for a moment before he went to take a step closer, Stella’s eyes glared at him as she lowered her drink, pushed herself back off the bar, and stared him down. He faltered with the intensity of her glare, her small stature doing nothing to dull the fierceness within her. It didn’t take long for him to lose his nerve and back off, blending back into the crowd of people and disappearing from her sight.

“Asshole,” Stella whispered as she turned to see Lani laughing. The guy did seem to run with his tail between his legs.

Smirking, Stella made quick work of her beer before she leaned into Lani, putting her empty glass on the bar.

“Want to dance?” Stella asked.

“You know I don’t dance. Besides, there is a girl I’ve got my eye on,” Lani projected with a knowing smile and a nod of her head towards the other end of the bar.

Stella rolled her eyes and nodded, giving her a peck on the lips before waving her off, weaving herself through the crowd of sweaty bodies on the dance floor. She wasn’t usually one to dance either, well not in the proper sense, but the pull of energy coming from the middle of the room was too intense to ignore. The feeling of tension bubbling under her skin had been wearing on her all day and it was the main reason she had agreed to come out tonight in hopes she could release it in some way.

Her heels clicked against the change in the floor from concrete to vinyl as she bumped into a few people, her eyes picking up on a space where she could dance. She took a few seconds to get into the flow of the music before her hips started to move from side to side while she closed her eyes and got lost in the music.

Stella danced by herself for a song, slowing down when the beat ended and stilled suddenly when she felt a warm breath on her neck. Opening her eyes, Stella looked back to see dark green eyes looking back at her, belonging to a very attractive young man. Stella looked him up and down for a moment, how his shirt clung to him with beads of sweat running down his neck. She couldn’t help the sharp stab of arousal hitting her centre as he smiled, his eyebrow raised.

“Are you dancing with anyone?” He asked, his breath was still hot on her neck and his hands lingered at her sides.

Stella shook her head, turning so she was facing him, giving him a smile in return, one hand resting on his chest. “I am now.”

He grinned as the song picked up and Stella’s hips began to move again, her hand staying on his chest as they moved together. They kept somewhat of a distance to start, allowing them both to adjust to the pace. Stella had to admit, he wasn’t that much taller than she was and it was nice to have his body moving with hers so easily for a change.

Looking up at him, Stella was taken by how attractive he was, definitely her type and maybe she could push him a little and see how keen he would be to help her relieve the sexual tension now residing in her belly. Turning around, Stella stepped back, looking over her shoulder at him with hooded eyes and a smirk, her ass resting against his crotch and his chest bumping against her back. Stella felt his hands sit on her hips, sliding to rest his fingertips on her stomach as she began to grind against him, encouraged by how he pulled her closer to him, guiding her movements.

The music was pulsing in her ears and the air felt slightly claustrophobic as she huffed out a breath, feeling hot lips against her neck. There was just something about him that drew her in and she couldn’t help but reach back, running her nails into his hair and holding him against her as he smirked against her skin, glad for the approval she was giving him.

Stella moved her other hand to rest on top of his, holding it to her stomach as she rocked and felt him swell in his jeans from the friction she was creating against his groin. So he is keen after all. I can have some fun with him . His grip on her tightened as he rocked his hips against her and Stella tilted her head to the side, giving him more access to her neck as she moved his hand lower, resting just under the band of her jeans.

They rocked together throughout the song, their breathing getting louder before Stella had enough, the fire of arousal burning under her slick skin was getting too insistent. She needed release and she wanted it now. Tilting her head back, she brushed her lips against his ear, teeth biting onto his earlobe.

“I want you to fuck me,” Stella stated confidently as she turned in his grip. She looked into his eyes with a raise of her eyebrow and her hands slid down to rest on his stomach which twitched under her touch.

“Fuck, yes,” he replied, a grin spreading on his lips.

Stella let one hand slip down and brush his erection through his jeans, enjoying how he almost crumbled under her touch. She loved how in control she could be. His hips rocked into her hand as she pulled away and nodded towards the toilets at the back. Stella had frequented this club a lot over the years and she had had more than her fair shares of quick fucks in the bathroom stalls. Stella wormed her way out of the crowd of dancing bodies, knowing he was following her like an obedient puppy, as she made her way towards the darkened corner of the club where the bathrooms were.

She passed a few couples taking advantage of the dark spaces, grinding against each other on the walls or making out on the couches, the sight only increasing her anticipation further. Sex was something she enjoyed, plain and simple. It was a perfect way for her to ease her tension and sex in this way didn’t come with commitment. Usually, intentions were clear and it was simply a way for two people to achieve pleasure and get what they wanted, no strings attached. Just how Stella liked it.

When they reached the bathrooms Stella pushed open the door, smiling when she realised they were alone for a few lucky moments. Turning to face him, she nodded towards one of the open stalls before walking backwards, her eyes falling to the rather impressive bulge in his pants. I’m going to enjoy this . Once both of them were inside, she locked the door and stopped him when he went to kiss her, their lips only just brushing against each other, their breaths mingling.

Tilting her head, she looked into his confused eyes, a smirk on her face as her fingers ran along his length before she gave his bottom lip a swipe of her tongue earning her a groan in return as he rocked himself into her hand.

“You get one kiss before you fuck me. Make it count,” Stella purred, her voice low and gravely as he leaned in.

Their lips crashed together and Stella’s eyes slipped closed as she caressed his tongue with her own, tasting the familiar tang of alcohol. Her fingers continued to massage him through his jeans as his hips rocked against her touch as she stepped forward and effectively pushed him up against the wall of the toilet stall, her free hand sliding up to his neck holding him in place as they kissed. He was proving himself, his kiss being a lot better than Stella had anticipated but eventually, she needed to breathe and pulled away from him.

“Very good,” she hummed, licking her lips approvingly.

He gave her a slight chuckle before he looked down at her hand, his eyes darkening as he watched how she traced his erection, his hips unable to stop their movement. Stella could see he was enjoying himself and from how hard he was against her palm she knew he was more than ready for her. Taking a step back, Stella reached into her pocket and pulled out the condom she brought as she handed it to him and watched as he ripped the corner of it with his teeth.

Stella took the time to undo her pants, not caring about the giggle and chatter coming from the basins outside, sliding her jeans and panties down just enough to give him access before watching him unbuckle his belt and slide his jeans down. She raised an eyebrow at his lack of underwear before her eyes fell on how swollen and erect he was, her eyes darkening at the sight of his evident arousal. He slid the condom down and Stella waited for him before she turned around and bent over slightly to lean against the wall. It wasn’t her favourite position, but it was the best for this situation. At least he also couldn’t be tempted to kiss her again this way. Parting her legs as much as she could with the restriction of her jeans, she waited for a moment as he stood behind her, one hand falling to her hip as she felt the tip of his cock brush against her centre.

“Is this okay?” He asked.

Stella thought it was quite sweet of him to ask so she looked back at him with a smile. “Yes. Just keep your hands on my hips.”

He nodded as she turned back again, letting out a moan when she felt him push into her with shallow thrusts for a moment before his hips pushed forward, shifting his weight on his feet until he was buried fully inside of her, both hands now resting on her hips. Stella sucked in a breath when he started to move, sliding himself in and out of her at a pace that had started slow but soon started to pick up speed. This was what she wanted. She wanted something fast that could take the edge off tonight and maybe give her enough satisfaction to last her the next couple of days.

Stella closed her eyes as she began to rock back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. It was a bit awkward, but they seemed to make it work. Sliding one hand down to rest in between her legs, her fingers expertly found her clit and began moving in a pattern of circles she knew would work to help get her to the edge she so desperately sought. It wasn’t about taking her time, she just wanted release and was happy to make that happen quickly.

Bowing her head down she bit her bottom lip to muffle a moan, unheard due to the grunting that was happening behind her. Fingers dug into the flesh of her hips as he used his strength to begin pulling her backwards and forwards, slipping deeper inside of her with each thrust. Stella slapped her hand against the wall with a groan as he shifted his hips, now managing to occasionally hit against the soft spot inside of her that always made her toes curl. It was probably completely by accident, but she hoped he would continue at this angle for a little bit longer. Stella quickly removed her hand from the wall, reaching around to grab one of the hands on her hips.

“Right there.” Stella’s voice was confident but husky, giving away the amount of arousal she was feeling.

He groaned in return and Stella gladly noticed that he must have listened because the angle stayed the same. Looking back at him, she saw his brow frowned in concentration, his cheeks flushed with arousal as he looked at her. Smirking at him she gave his hand a quick squeeze before she bent over, opening her legs a little more and rested her hand back on the wall for support.

“Mmm, good boy,” she complimented.

“Fuck!” He grunted.

His hips lost their rhythm for a moment as her words caught him off guard, but he continued, faster now that the sounds of their flesh smacking together could be heard. And Stella was sure it would be heard because she could still hear people talking by the sinks. She couldn’t care less though, she could feel how her clit swelled under her fingers and how the coil of arousal was building in her stomach. Let them hear it .

Stella could feel her muscles tightening around him in anticipation, causing him to groan, his nails digging into the skin of her hips. She closed her eyes as her breathing sped up, her fingers sliding rapidly over her clit and her feet shifted as she felt her orgasm begin to build, a familiar tingling starting in her toes and fingertips. Stella’s head fell forward, her hair bumping against the wall with every hard thrust coming from behind her. Her knees began to shake slightly, her arm coming to rest in front of her face against the wall.

After a rough brush against her g-spot, her orgasm hit and she bit her forearm, stifling a loud moan. Her eyes opened with a sudden snap as she came hard and fast, her hips bowing slightly in an attempt to stay upright. She heard him panting behind her, his hips slowing down from the resistance her contracting inner walls were giving him as she let the waves of pleasure wash over her and flood her system with endorphins.

Closing her eyes, Stella kept her teeth buried in her skin as her fingers slowed down, relishing the few moments of tranquillity before she felt him speed up, unable to hold off his need for release. Stella removed her fingers from her clit, wiping them quickly on her jeans before she rested her hand on the wall, bracing herself as his thrusts became slightly harder and more consistent now she had relaxed, her cunt only giving him an uncontrollable squeeze every so often, still fluttering slightly from her orgasm. Stella let her arm go from her teeth as she rested her forehead against it, her back arching slightly as he moved his hand, resting one on her lower back, his grunts becoming louder now.

Turning her head, she thought about moving his hand back to her hips but relented when she saw the look on his face and the loud groan coming from his lips. He was too close now anyway, she would let it slide. He had done as he was told and got her off to quite a pleasing orgasm, she would reward him with a touch of her skin. Stella always found the sight of a man in the thralls of his orgasm something so primal and attractive, so she continued to watch him. His gaze was focused on watching himself slide in and out of her, his eyes so dark and aroused, sweat glazing his forehead.

“Oh, shit.” His voice was thick and heavy, completely unable to hold the shiver of his body with his impending orgasm. Suddenly, he bent his knees and pulled her roughly against him, his eyes snapped shut as his head fell backwards.

“Fuck!” He let out a guttural groan before his hips gave sharp and quick movements as he twitched, riding out his orgasm.

Stella closed her eyes and turned to face the wall again, her body rocking back to meet his slow thrusts, letting herself be directed by his movements as a reward for letting her come before. It was only fair.

His hips continued to twitch forward for a few moments before he stepped away, slipping out of her with a groan. Stella bit her lip at the emptiness she felt before she straightened her posture, running her fingers through her hair. Turning around, she watched him pump his cock a few times, obviously still enjoying some small aftershocks before she focused on pulling up her panties and jeans in one fluid motion. The tension she was feeling earlier was nicely sated now and left her feeling grounded and clear-headed. She had needed this tonight before classes started tomorrow morning. Stella buttoned up her jeans as he carefully slipped the condom off, tying it up at the end and putting it in the bin nestled in the corner of the cubicle.

“Shit. That was good.” He chuckled, tucking his cock away and pulling up his jeans.

Stella fixed her shirt up before she smirked at him. “Yes, it was.”

Stella brushed past him as she unlocked the door, not looking behind her as she made her way out of the bathroom. She wouldn’t mind just going back to her room and settling in for the night, maybe drinking some water so her hangover wouldn’t be too horrible tomorrow morning. Waving to Lani, who was chatting to a tall lanky girl at the bar, Stella gave her a signal that she was going, to which Lani nodded, returning to her conversation.

Pushing her way through to the exit she grabbed her coat from the small check-in desk at the door before taking a deep breath of the fresh, crisp air outside. There was a dull ache between her legs as she walked back towards campus, a fulfilling sense of contentment washing over her. Sex without feelings was just want she needed. She didn’t do feelings. There were too many chances for the control she had over herself to be taken by another person. She wouldn’t let herself get that vulnerable because she knew what the eventual outcome would be. This was a good compromise. This was on her terms and she could live with that.

Tucking her hands into her jacket pockets, she shielded them from the icy cold breeze that seemed to be picking up, probably more evident to her with her hot and sweaty skin quickly cooling. With a shiver, Stella picked up her pace, looking forward to going home to a hot shower and a nice cup of tea. Maybe even read some of that new book she had purchased yesterday.

——♡——

Stella poured the hot water from her plug-in kettle into her mug, watching it fill before adding a tea bag and letting it steep on her desk for a moment. The walk home had been quick once the rain had started to drizzle and her walk had turned into a jog and a hot shower was just what she needed to both warm up and wash the sweat off her skin. She was now dressed in a loose-fitting black t-shirt and flannel pyjama bottoms, sitting back on the desk, her eyes flicking across the page of the book in her hand as she waited for her tea to be ready.

The book in question was one she had been on the lookout for around town for ages now, searching every second-hand book store as well as the newer chains to source a copy. She had first discovered The Letters of Virginia Woolf in high school and had been instantly captivated and when she had later found out it was part of a collection, she had been lucky enough to find the second volume not long after her final year in high school. It had been this, the third volume, that had been tricky to find, and when she had found it resting on the bottom shelf in the literary section at the local bookshop, her heart had jumped. Her attention was only momentarily distracted from the book by an adorable redhead who nearly knocked over a shelf to allow her to pass.

Finishing off the page, Stella looked to see her tea a beautiful dark shade before she picked up the mug and made her way towards her bed, a little nest of pillows propped up in the corner to give her a place to sit and read. There wasn’t much space in these dorm rooms and she couldn’t fit her reading chair in here so she had settled for the next best thing she could achieve as a compromise. Juggling both her book and tea while settling in, Stella got comfortable on her bed and settled the hardcover book in her lap, happy that it could stay open on its own. Cradling the cup of tea in both hands, Stella took gentle sips as she read, getting lost in the words and letting her world slip away.

She read until her tea was long finished and the hours on her clock showed it was nearly 1 am. As much as Stella didn’t want to stop reading, she knew she would need some decent sleep before class tomorrow morning. She was looking forward to the first class and hoped the course would be as interesting as she imagined it would be.

Putting the bookmark resting in the back of the book into her current page, she shut it and put it on her bedside table, pulling back the blankets and getting comfortable for the night before she reached over and turned off the light with a flick, flooding the room in darkness. Stella lay on her back for a moment, taking a few deep breaths, sending her silent nightly prayer of no nightmares before she turned onto her side, her hair sprawling out on the pillow as she closed her eyes and slipped to sleep just as the clock hit 1:26 am.

#stella x scully #stella/scully #stella and scully #stella gibson #dana scully #txf #the x files #the fall #fanfiction #fanfic #my fanfiction #stellaxdanafic #stellaxdanaxrar

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