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stillmonsterz · 7 months

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10th Street

pairing: jake sim x reader, jay park x reader kind of (one-sided genre: raw sex with jake :/ summary: you go on a date with jay and it's looking bleak, but the bartender comes around to save the day. warnings: alcohol, unprotected sex, drug mentions, crypto mentions, jay is annoying and rich, oral sex.... word count: 5.4k and unproofread.

“What really gets me about these rug pulls,” Jay says, steepling his fingers and placing them under his clean-shaven chin, “is that they’re so damn predictable. Any asshole with an ounce of intelligence could immediately spot that an anonymous crypto project is obviously going to rug. I mean, it’s fucking ridiculous, right?”

“Right,” you say. Your eyes flicker across his face, taking in his features. You wonder if the sex will be worth this, but the cursory glances you’ve taken at his trousers have told you that it probably won’t.

Your date is Jay Park, this entrepreneur who has made a name for himself in your area’s tech scene. When he had initially met you in a bookstore, skulking out of the philosophy section to not so much as introduce himself as to remind you of his name and status, you had assumed that he would have taken you someplace nicer. Instead, he drove you in his McLaren just outside of 10th Street. He had paid for 4 hours parking and had jostled you down the cluttered sidewalk, his Ferragamos clattering. Jay had gripped your elbow as he navigated you past drunkards, children wandering the streets without parents, and women with glassy eyes.

Your voice was joking but belied some of your concern. “Where are you taking me, a traphouse?”

“That’s date number two,” Jay had replied jovially, looking back at you in the light of the setting sun, “if I decide that you’re worth the effort.”

You had bitten back a groan and continued following him down the street. Finally, he had stopped you outside of a seedy dive bar, with a hole in the glass boarded up with cheap planks. The planks themselves had been tagged with obscene phrases written in spray paint and Sharpie. Jay had pointed to one word and smiled at you with childish glee. “I wrote that one,” he had said proudly. “

“You have awful writing,” you had said flatly, crossing your arms. “And this place looks like a crack den.”

“That’s exactly why we’re here,” Jay replied in a wheedling tone, his grip on your elbow sliding down to your hand. He had interlaced your fingers together. “Come on, don’t you wish to shed the trappings of the social strata? Doesn’t this excite you?”

A protest had begun to rise in your throat, but Jay had already pushed the door open, pulling you along. The bar was dimly lit, the lightbulbs flickering in the grimy lamps. Stains cover the cheap plywood flooring, and as Jay led you to a table the planks made harsh squeaking noises. Industrial metal was playing from a tinny radio, and the one LCD TV mounted in the corner was displaying grainy footage of a football game. The patrons crowding around the bar and littering the pool table are what you would expect. Loud, raucous, with hunched backs, jerky movements, and thinning hair. The glances that some of the men situated by the pool table gave you were reason enough to flee, but Jay’s grip is as tight as a viper.

“Don’t mind them,” Jay had whispered, his face nothing short of elated. His head had surveyed the room, and a slow smirk settled onto his lips. His well-coiffed hair, youthful face, and understated yet expensive clothes had set him apart, something that greatly pleased him. He had turned back to you. “You’re probably the most beautiful woman they’ve seen in months.”

“That’s not hard,” you had mumbled, crossing your arms. Your seat was sticky and the table separating you and Jay was riddled with dents and chips.

“Oh, come on,” Jay had whined, spreading his arms widely. “Don’t be such a little princess. Isn’t this nice? This stripping of artifice, this beautiful and vulgar display of Americana? It’s exciting, isn’t it? Gets you kind of…turned on, right?”

You had raised an eyebrow. “Are you?”

“I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t sporting a half-chub, yeah.”

You had groaned. “You’re disgusting, Jay.”

“Stop,” he had muttered, holding up his hand. “I might go full mast….” Jay had stood up hurriedly. “I’m going to get us drinks before I inelegantly bust all over the table. What do you want, like a Cosmopolitan or some shit?”

“No…I kind of wanted a vodka cranberry?”

Jay had scoffed, opening his wallet in a way that showed you his black card. “What, are you someone’s fucking grandmother? Christ.” He had stalked towards the bar, and you had sat there, trying not to make eye contact with any of the barflies. Finally, your gaze had fallen upon Jay talking to the bartender, at whom he was wildly gesticulating. The bartender was nodding patiently, taking a slow swig of a clear liquid in a tumbler. His apron was stained, his plain black V-neck exposed his thin arms and chest, and his eyes sparkled with a youthfulness one wouldn’t expect to find in a place like this.

As you had watched the two of them, the bartender’s eyes had briefly slid towards you. His eyes had widened, then narrowed playfully before he went to prepare the drinks. Your chest had felt warm, but you stifled your smile as Jay had stalked back towards your table.

“I feel bad for that poor bastard,” he had said, sidling into his chair and slinging his arm on the back of it. “Imagine being shackled to this shithole.”

“I thought you liked this shithole.”

“Yeah, as a brief recourse from the ardors of being really fucking rich,” Jay had retorted. “Not for the rest of my life. I mean, goddamn. Look at that prick.”

Jay didn’t have to tell you twice. You took in his messy brown hair, his wide smile, his deft fingers. Then he had walked away from the counter, holding your vodka cranberry and an old-fashioned for Jay. His stride was sure, and he was only looking at you.

“Here you are,” the bartender had said lowly. “Here’s your old-fashioned-“ he had set the drink in front of Jay with little fanfare- “and here’s your vodka cranberry.” He had slid the drink towards you, making brief eye contact with you. He had been so close to you, you could finally make out his name tag – Jake, written in careful capital letters- and you could smell the moonshine on his breath.

“Yeah, thanks,” Jay had muttered.

“Thank you,” you had added softly.

Jake leaned away slowly, his eyes still lingering on you, before politely nodding. “Let me know if you need anything,” he had drawled before walking away.

Jay had taken a long swig of his old-fashioned and takes a look at the retreating figure of Jake before groaning. “He should have made it even more obvious that he wanted you. He should have just shoved his cock into your old-lady drink and swirled it around so we really got the picture. Fuck me, I guess.”

You had sipped your vodka cranberry and laughed. “Oh, come on. You’re reading too much into it.”

“I’m not,” Jay had insisted, pointing at you with an accusatory glare. “He was checking you out in this lascivious manner. It was disgusting. He was looking at you like you were some piece of ass.” He had taken another long drink of his old-fashioned, barely wincing at the burn.

“As opposed to you,” you had said sarcastically, “who only has pure intentions for me, right?”

Jay had laughed. “Hey, it’s different when I objectify you. It’s kind of like when a homeless guy calls you sexy on the sidewalk compared to when an apex predator like me calls you sexy. The point is, that bartender wants you, and it’s revolting.”

You had dared another glance at the bartender, who was blatantly staring at you while sipping his moonshine. “Relax. I’m probably just the first woman with a full set of teeth he’s seen in a while.”

Jay had snickered again. “That’s probably true.” Only a few moments of silence had passed before his voice took on a mischievous, almost playful lilt. “You know, you could probably get something from him…”

You had wiped the corner of your mouth with your thumbs. “What do you mean?”

“You know,” Jay had said with a shrug, “you could get some free drinks out of him if you flirted a little, take advantage of him. You could probably get him to bequeath his life savings, which could maybe buy you a used microwave or a footlong.”

Your mouth had gaped open. “Are you openly encouraging me to flirt with him?”

“Yeah?”

“Are you a cuck or something?”

Jay had laughed again, slapping the table. “Ah, you slay me.” He had reached over and pinched your cheek, an action that made you want to bite his fingers off. “Come on, just shove your cute little ass in his face and flirt. It’ll be funny to make him think that he has a chance with you.”

“I’ll pass,” you had replied. “I mean, it’s not really my thing to just play around with other peoples’ emotions.”

He had sighed and shook his head in disappointment. “Oh, what am I going to do with you? You’re so goddamn innocent. You’re saying that you’ll feel some modicum of guilt if you fuck around with him?”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

Jay had downed the rest of his old-fashioned. “Recalcitrance is for bitches and pussies.”

You had rolled her eyes. “Fine, so I’m a pussy.”

Once again, that finger had found its way into your line of sight. “You know who’s really a pussy? This asshole who had invested in this obvious pump and dump…”

As Jay rambles about crypto, you can’t help but look at the bartender. He’s behind the counter, cleaning a cloudy glass with a rag. When he notices that you’re looking at him, he smiles at you warmly before he looks at Jay and returns his attention to the glass.

Jay corrals you into having another drink, and you listen to his sophomoric opinions on modern society, the current film industry, his tech predictions, and his opinions on right-wing pundits. The only thing stymying your boredom from overtaking you are your furtive glances at the bartender- Jake, you remind yourself. Jake.

Finally, the two of you leave the shady bar, and Jay makes out with you as he presses you against his car. You close your eyes and think about Jake as his tongue probes inside of your mouth with little grace.

“Listen,” you murmur, pulling away from his lips, “I have a presentation early in the morning to give, so I’m going to have to cut this date short…”

“Oh, bullshit,” Jay says, groping your ass on the sidewalk, “you just don’t want to fuck me, is that it? Can you say that for me? Say that you don’t want to fuck me.”

You sigh. “I don’t want to fuck you.”

His hands comes off of your ass and he pulls away from you, shaking his head. “That’s all you had to say. I don’t get women. They’re always like, ‘Men never listen to us!’ Then they don’t explicitly tell us anything, we have to parse through their shit...” As Jay talks, he opens the passenger door. “Get in. Please.”

You slide inside of his car and he closes the door, even buckling your seatbelt for you. Then he walks over to the driver’s seat and drives to your place. He calls you a cock-tease and a winsome harlot and some other choice terms you can barely hear.

When he finally arrives at your place, he begs you for one last kiss. You oblige, he bemoans that he’ll never get to pound that tight strange, and he drives off, presumably to coerce someone into his bed for the night.

Against your better judgement, you take an Uber and walk into that bar on 10th Street alone. This time, the lustful eyes of the barflies are less disgusting than they are frightening. Thankfully, the bar area has been just about cleared out, and you take a seat on a stool with a peeled cover.

Jake is busy cleaning up a spill on the far end of the counter, but when he looks up and sees you his face brightens. He drops the cloth on the table and walks towards you with a goofy smile.

“Hey, babydoll,” he says lowly, eyes sparkling. He doesn’t bother masking the fact that he’s openly checking you out, his eyes lingering on your breasts before meeting your own stare again. “Was your date that boring?”

“He was…nice,” you reply, resting your head on your hand.

Jake laughs. “Yeah, nice, sure.” He shakes his head slightly, like he can’t believe his good fortune. “You want something to drink, babe?”

“Yeah, could you make me something nice and sweet? Nothing too alcoholic.”

Jake points at you, cocking his head. “I’ve got just the thing for you.” He busies himself behind the bar, pouring this and that into a shaker. As he does, he can’t stop stealing glances at you. Every time he does, he smiles and bites his lip before looking away. Finally, he pours a light-yellow drink into a cocktail glass, carefully affixing a lemon wedge to the side before gently sliding it to you. “It’s a lemon drop,” he explains in his slow drawl.

“Thank you.” You pull your wallet out of your purse. “How much is this?”

Jake shakes his head. “Nah, for a pretty girl like you, it’s on the house.”

A smile spreads across your face, and that warmth in your chest spreads. “Are you sure?”

“Surer than anything, babe.” He gestures for you to try it, pushing his mop of hair back.

You take a sip, and your eyes widen. “This is great.” You hold the glass by the stem as you drink it.

“Thank you,” Jake says almost shyly. “Glad that I picked up something useful from bartending this shithole.”

“How long have you been here?”

“Been working here for…ten years? Owned it for three.” Jake takes a long sip of his moonshine, resting his elbows on the counter. “Not my first choice of job, but when you’re an addict and you need money, you’ll take anything.”

Your mouth opens, but Jake quickly answers your question. “I’m clean now. Been clean for five years. My only vice is this.” He holds up his tumbler and shakes it before taking another sip.

“Do you make that yourself?”

Jake nods. “I make it myself, in the back,” he says, a tinge of pride in his voice. “This must be about…80% pure alcohol, I figure.”

“Can I try some?” you ask tentatively.

Jake laughs, his face contorting in disbelief. “Are you sure, babydoll? This could knock a grown man on his feet.”

“Oh, I’m sure,” you say. You hate to back down from a challenge.

With another laugh, he walks over to you, coming around the counter. He holds his glass out to you, and as you wrap your hand around the tumbler he tilts the liquid into your mouth. Jake’s eyes are fixed on your lips, awaiting your reaction.

At first, it does little to you, and you’re about to say something snarky. Then the burning starts, flames licking at your throat, and you double over coughing. Your eyes are screwed up, filled with tears, and your hands clutch the edge of the counter.

You can feel a hand rubbing your back, the other hand gently stroking your arm. “Aw, damn. You took that like a champ.”

Through hacking coughs, you eke out, “I don’t feel like a champ.”

Jake continues rubbing comforting circles on your back. “I’ve seen men collapse to their feet from a shot of moonshine. You’re a little firecracker, ain’t you?”

“Thanks,” you mutter, turning to look at him through watery eyes.

“No problem. You want some water, babydoll?”

You nod, and Jake reluctantly lets go of you to retrieve some water for you. He returns to your side with a glass, holding it up to your lips. The water is like a soothing balm for your throat, and after a long drink you sigh. “Damn.”

Jake sets the glass down and picks up his own tumbler of moonshine, taking a long swig. “That’s moonshine for you.”

Your eyes widen. “How are you drinking that so…so…”

“Like it’s water?” Jake smiles at you cheekily, leaning against the counter next to you so that his elbows are on the edge and he’s facing you. “First of all, I’ve put shit up my nose that burned more than this. Second of all, I’m used to it. When you’re dealing with this day in and day out-“ he gestures widely at the bar- “you need something good and strong to get through it.”

“Your liver must be strong as hell.”

Jake laughs, setting his tumbler down. “It must be pickled at this point.”

You can’t help but laugh, and he playfully pokes your shoulder. “Don’t laugh at my liver. It’s the only reason why I’m still standing.” Then he stills, appraising you with a careful gaze. “I never got your name, babydoll.”

You tell him your name, holding your hand out.

He takes it and shakes it firmly. “Lovely name. Suits you perfectly. My name’s Jake. Jake Sim.”

He’s still holding your hand. “Pleased to meet you.”

“Pleasure’s all mine,” he murmurs. Jake holds your hand to his lips and kisses it, traces of moonshine wetting your hand. He flattens your hand and idly starts tracing your palm, his other hand circling your wrist. “You’ve got nice hands. Real nice.”

“Thank you,” you reply softly. “Yours are very rough.”

Jake laughs somewhat self-consciously. He stops drawing on your palm with his index finger. “Yeah, well, you don’t work at a place like this for damn near a decade without getting a few calluses and cuts.”

Your voice comes out as a whisper. “I like it.” You reach out and gently squeeze the tip of his finger, feeling the callus for yourself, before dropping it.

Jake smiles, but his eyes take on a dangerous glint. His finger trails from the palm of your hand to your wrist, his fingertips gliding over your veins. “Yeah?”

“Yeah.”

For a moment, both of you continued smiling at each other. Then Jake licks his lips, and he lets go of your wrist. His other hand now strokes your forearm. “Why’d you come back here, baby? Coming to this shithole once is one thing, but twice in the same night…”

You don’t see a point in playing games. “I wanted to see you.”

The smile drops off of Jake’s face, and he leans in towards you. “Yeah? No bullshit?”

“No bullshit.”

His other hand moves to rest on your knee, and his thumb strokes it through your jeans. “Your date didn’t do it for you?”

You shrug, picking up your lemon drop again and sipping it. “He was okay, I guess. He was weird.”

Jake’s voice is becoming low, his eyes serious. His eyes flicker over your body, settling on your thighs. This time, he doesn’t bother looking back up at you. “You don’t like weird?”

“Not that kind of weird,” you reply, your voice catching.

“You don’t like rich prick typa weird?” His voice is amused, and his hand creeps up your knee. “You prefer broke bartender at a shit bar typa weird?”

You lean in, your eyes locked onto his full, plush lips. The smell of moonshine has become less of a deterrent and more intoxicating. “Is that a problem?”

“The opposite,” Jake replies in a husky voice. His lips brush your cheek as he moves to whisper in your ear. “I’m flattered that a gorgeous lady like you has interest in me.” His right hand is now caressing your thigh slowly, intentionally. The other touches your face with his thumb.

“I’m surprised you’re flattered,” you reply, leaning into his touch slightly. “Women here must love you.”

“They love me to get free drinks out of me,” he says dismissively. “Besides…most women who come here aren’t a fraction as pretty as you are. You’re like a gem in a pigsty, you know that?” When you don’t say anything, Jake continues, running his finger along your jaw. “Your date must’ve been as stupid as hell to let you go.” He pulls away from your ear so he can look you in your eyes.

“He couldn’t do anything about it. I just didn’t want him the way-“

Jake’s eyes narrow, and he comes impossibly closer. “The way what?”

“The way I want you.”

There’s a pause, and Jake’s face is unreadable. When he does talk, his voice is strained, “Tell me you aren’t fucking with me. Tell me you’re serious. Say the word, and I’ll shut this place down and kick all these junkies out.”

You swallow, need and desire building up in the pit of your stomach. “I’m serious.”

Jake pulls away from you and walks over to the barflies, telling them to get their drunk asses out. They complain and groan, but they leave without much of a fight. Once they’re all gone, Jake locks the door. “Come here,” he says, beckoning you with his finger.

You walk towards him as if in a trance, and when you’re close he spins you around by the waist and kisses you. You readily kiss him back, your hands resting on his chest. His mouth tastes like moonshine, and you can even taste a hint of his sharp aftershave. Jake presses you up against the door, placing his knee in between your legs to trap you. The kiss starts off playful, but it grows hungry, and Jake seems as though he would swallow you if he could.

When he pulls away from your lips, a string of saliva in between your mouths, his eyes dart all over your face. Then he nods slightly, as if he’s come to some grand conclusion.

“What?” you ask, your hands snaking up to his cheek. “What is it?”

Jake pecks your lips gently and smiles. “I just realized…I’m not going to be able to take my time with you.” Before you can say anything, he wraps his arm around your waist and guides you behind the counter to a wooden door that looks liable to give one splinters.

When he opens the door, the smell of alcohol is almost staggering, and Jake’s grip tightens on your waist as if he had anticipated that reaction. Bottles of alcohol are stacked in crates on wooden shelves on the far wall. To the right rests three DIY pot stills, all using dented kegs. To the left, there’s a small faux-leather couch with chunks of it peeling off. You think back to Jay’s words about the artifice or whatever the fuck, and suddenly you wish there was at least a bit of pretense. But when you turn to Jake, he’s smiling at you like you had hung the moon in the sky yourself. “I know it’s no Hilton,” he begins sheepishly, but you shut him up by kissing him squarely on the mouth.

“It works for me,” you say, biting your lips.

Jake’s grin widens. “Shit, okay.”

You tumble together on the couch with Jake, your mouths connecting sloppily and wetly. You suck his tongue into your mouth hungrily, causing you to choke slightly. This only spurs Jake on further, and he grinds his crotch into you. Your hips rise to meet his, and you hump each other desperately and almost painfully. His hand crawls up your stomach, and he gropes at your breasts. Finally, he pushes himself off of you, settling into a kneeling position. Through the dim light filtering in through the cracks of the door, you can see that Jake’s lips are swollen, his hair messy, and his eyes wild.

“Take it off,” he grunts. “Everything. Now.”

Your hands fumble with the zipper of your jeans, excitement clogging throat. As you tug your jeans down, Jake unbuckles his belt, throwing it to the side. You kick your shoes off, shimmy your jeans off, and toss your shirt away, leaving you in only your bra and panties. When you’re suitably undressed, you look up at Jake.

Jake’s shirt is off, revealing a dark mass of skin you recognize as tattoos. One of his hands has slipped into his boxers, and he’s staring at you. A moan escapes his lips as his eyes wander your body. “So fucking perfect,” he says, voice strained as he plays with his cock. “So goddamn beautiful. Play with yourself for me, baby.”

You tentatively tug your underwear down, collecting your arousal to coat your clit before stroking it with two fingers. You’re so sensitive that just the first touches cause you to whine in pleasure.

“Spread your legs,” Jake hisses. “Nice and wide…”

You oblige, widening your legs so that Jake gets a full view of your pearly pussy. He moans again, his mouth watering at the sight of it, at the hot, sweet smell. “Let me taste it. Let me taste it,” he begs, dipping his head down.

As his wide tongue touches your clit, you cry out in pleasure. Jake laps at your clit with fervor, his hands pushing your legs apart as he licks wide stripes. His mouth makes obscene smacking noises, and when he briefly pulls away to catch his breath, his entire lower face is slick with your arousal. “So good,” he mutters before diving back in. You squirm, knowing that you’ll cum quickly if he doesn’t stop, but Jake’s nails dig into your fleshy thighs, holding you in place.

“Oh, Jake, Jake,” you pant out, head leaning back. “Jake, I’m so close, Jake…”

Seemingly encouraged by your words, Jake continues attacking your clit, and two of his bony fingers slip into your vaginal walls, spreading you open. They pump themselves in and out, in and out, like the undulations of the ocean. Like that, he rips an orgasm from you, continuing to lick the arousal spilling from you as you ride out the wave of pleasure.

You lean your head back on the armrest of the couch, trying to catch your breath. Jake gently caresses your thigh as you come down from your high, peppering your neck with kisses. “Tasted amazing,” he says, voice ragged. “Tasted like paradise.”

Your brain is so fuzzy you can hardly piece together a coherent sentence. “That was so good, Jake.”

Jake smiles at you and gives you a kiss on the mouth, slow and gentle. You greedily lick your own juices off of his lips, even sucking it off of his tongue. As you kiss, you can feel the head of his cock poking at your entrance. “Sorry,” Jake says blithely, “but I need to fuck you right now.”

You nod. “Please.”

To his credit, he takes his time. He fucks into you slowly and carefully, wanting you to adjust. He’s not long, but he’s girthy and fills you well. He feeds you his cock inch by inch, moving in and out as so not to hurt you. Once you seem at ease, he pushes your thighs up so that your knees touch your breasts and fucks you at a faster pace. After a minute or so of that position, he seemingly gets tired of it, opting to place your legs over his shoulder. This allows him to hit a sweet angle, one that has you moaning.

He’s fucking you so quickly that your breasts begin to hurt, so you cover them with your hands. Jake swats your fingers with his free hand, the other wrapped around your legs. “Stop that,” he huffs out. “Let your tits bounce.” You let go of your breasts, and he licks his finger to swirl it around your nipples, marveling at their stiffness. He kneads your breasts as he pounds into you with grunts of effort.

Jake pulls out of you, and the loss causes you to cry out. He grabs you by your shoulders and pulls you around so that your head is lolling over the edge of the armrest. He hovers over you, one hand prying your mouth open. “Need to fuck this mouth of yours. Will you let me, babydoll?”

You pant out your assent, and he slides his wet cock into your mouth. First you kitten-lick the head, tasting your own hot arousal, then he presses his cock further down, treating your mouth like a pussy. As you gag around his dick, you play with his balls, fondling them with one hand. With the other, you play with your engorged, reddened clit. This doesn’t go unnoticed by him. “You’re amazing,” Jake pants out. “Playing with yourself while you get facefucked.”

You tap his stomach, and he pulls his cock out, stroking your cheek gently. “All good?” he asks tentatively.

You nod and spit somewhere on his floor before taking him back into your mouth. “So good to me,” Jake praises. “So, so good.” Once he’s done fucking your mouth, he pulls out and his cock on your cheek, almost playfully. Then he pulls you over so that you’re flat on your stomach, your head still hanging over the edge of the couch. He spanks your ass once, twice, then slips his wet, stiff cock into your folds, moaning as he does.

This time, his pace isn’t furious, but moderate. He pulls you up so that your back rests on his chest. He’s on his knees, fucking his cock into you upright. Your hips meet Jake’s, so that you’re bouncing on his dick. He kneads your breast with one hand, the other hand holding your waist. Your lips meet in a sloppy, rushed kiss before he pushes you down and grips your hips. He pounds into you with strangled moans, sounding more animalistic than anything else.

“You like this?” he asks, the question sounding less like dirty talk and more like a desperate need for assurance.

“I like it!” Your voice is tremulous, shaking as he thrusts harder and harder into you.

“That rich prick you were with couldn’t fuck you like this, right?” He punctuates his sentence by pulling out of you before slamming himself back inside with a groan.

You moan loudly, trying to clutch the armrest for support. “No, he couldn’t. He’s nothing like you.”

“That’s right,” Jake says, closing his eyes. “He couldn’t. He couldn’t make you purr like I do.” His thrusts become sloppier and faster, and you slip your hand down so you can rub your clit to chase your own orgasm.

Peals of moans spill from your lips. “I’ve never been fucked like this before, Jake.”

“I thought so.” Jake flips you over so he can enter you from the front, pushing one of your legs to the side. He slides in and out of you with ease, your juices having pooled on the couch. “You need to be fucked like this, don’t you?”

“I need it,” you choke out, your stomach desperately burning. “I need it, Jake.”

As he comes close to orgasm, you can feel his cock twitch inside of you. “Fuck, a girl like you just begs to be treated like this.”

“That’s right,” you babble.

Jake doesn’t talk anymore, instead letting out low grunts as he comes close. Your second orgasm hits you first, and you scream out his name. The tightening of your vaginal walls is enough to bring him to climax, and with a final grunt and a low, “Fuck!” he spills into you. He pulls out of you and weakly rubs his cock to spill his last few spurts of hot cum on your stomach. Then he wearily collapses, leaning back on the opposite side of the couch.

Both of you recover from the heated session, and you gasp for air. After a while, you feel Jake’s hand on yours, and he pulls you onto him. He strokes your hair and kisses both of your cheeks. You wrap your arms around him and rest your cheek on his chest.

“I can’t just let you go,” he murmurs, fingers tangling in your hair. “I’m going to need you again soon.”

You look up at him, surprised. “Again? Soon?”

Jake laughs, his playfulness returning. “We’re going to rest up for a little, and then I’m going to take you again. We need two more rounds, at minimum. What do you say?”

“I say you’re insane,” you reply, any snark momentarily eviscerated by the residual pleasure spreading in your body.

“You like it.”

“Shut up.”

With another laugh, Jake kisses the top of your head. “You’re cute.”

You allow your eyes to flutter shut as you revel in his embrace, taking in Jake’s scent and comfort.

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dumblilb · 1 year

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I’m Losing It Lately ˚⋆୨୧⋆ ˚

Ellie Williams x Fem!Reader

(Synopsis: Ellie thinks you’re the prettiest girl she’s ever seen. And that terrifies her. So when you hint at liking her back she can’t help but think the worst. Inspired by the song Lacy by Olivia Rodrigo. )

(Warnings: Loser!Ellie, a coming out scene, mentions of anxiety, making out, angst, fluff, lesbians 🤯 )

(Words: 2037)

Ellie has know you for years. You have been one of her best friends since she moved to Jackson. So it was exciting when you were paired as roommates once you both headed off to college. That was till recently.

Ellie had been feeling uneasy around you. Entering a room and immediately leaving if she saw you in it. She just couldn’t help the butterflies that swarmed her stomach when she looked at you. And it was making her sick. Watching you get ready in the morning. Applying lip liner making her wonder what your lips felt like. Or helping you with the little bows you would tie on your hair and your bags. Or the way you rested a hand on her thigh when you would have movie nights. Sometimes how you looked at her when you couldn’t sleep and needed someone to talk to, would send her into overdrive. Your eyes would be all sleepy and and your lips all puffy after biting them subconsciously. You would wrap yourself in fluffy throw blankets and hold that stupid teddy bear she got you when you were 16. And she just thinks to herself-

“How could someone look so beautiful?”

She wanted to crawl into a hole every time she noticed you staring at her plain outfits or the boxers she wore to bed. She wished she could dress well like you. Maybe you would like her then. It made her so insecure knowing you had seen her grow up. Seen all her awkward phases and nerdy interests. You had always seemed so put together and cool to her.

One night you were eating take out and watching her play a video game on the tv when you started messing with her hair.

“Ellie…”

“What’s up? Do I need a hairbrush or something?” She says turning her attention to you. Chuckling awkwardly as she starts to flatten down her hair.

“Oh! No you’re fine. You look great. Um… can I ask you something?” You question bringing your knees to your chest. Making her put the controller down nervously to fully face you.

“Anything…”

“You like girls right?” You ask so scared it almost sounds like a whisper. Ellie’s body flinches, straightening up. She never expected to have this conversation with you. It always just seemed like unspoken knowledge.

“Yeah I do..”

“How did you know?” You ask, eyes glossy.

“Well, I personally was just never attracted to men in that way. It’s different for everyone, but for me when ever a man would try to get romantic with me I would run. It just never felt right…” Ellie says eyeing you down. You were trembling. You looked terrified.

“Ellie…”

“Yeah…”

“I think I like girls.” You sob and she brings you into her arms. Holding you, rubbing your back softly.

“It’s okay. I’ve got you.” She whispers.

The entire night she talked to you about old flings and answered any questions you had. But her stomach had dropped from the moments your confession left your lips. Cause it made what she was feeling all to real. It it was scary. Knowing that you like girls means that if you do reject her is cause you don’t like her personally. And not just because she was a girl. Cause how could someone so pretty and kind, like someone like her? So she started avoiding you.

You started to beg Dina to tell you if Ellie had said anything.

“Is she mad at me? I mean Dina please, I need to know. She’s acting like the sight of me disgusts her. I’m worried I did something wrong.” You plead sitting down on her couch.

“She’s not mad at you I promise.” Dina sighs grabbing a bottle of water and sitting down next to you.

“Then why is she avoiding me?” You say and she puts a hand on your shoulder.

“You really need to ask her yourself. How about this, I’m gonna have us all over here tomorrow night for a little party, get together, whatever you wanna call it. And since I’m forcing her to be here you can talk to her.” Dina says and you smile at the plan. The not knowing was killing you and this was the perfect way to get answers.

Later that night while making dinner you look over at Ellie who is finally taking off her headphones.

“Hey are you going to Dina’s tomorrow?” You ask and she lets out a groan.

“Yeah, she said if I don’t she’ll break in and steal all my weed. So…” Ellie explains and walks to her bed.

“Not hungry?” You ask concerned.

“No I’ll eat tomorrow. Night.” She says and turns off the little light above her bed before leaning over and shutting the door between the main room and the bedroom.

You finish up and sit down on the couch. Not wanting to go in there and bother her anymore. Your mind was wandering. You had been friends for 6 years. Little fights had happened before. But this wasn’t a fight. It felt like she was evicting you from her life.

She didn’t want to talk to you. Or look at you. The sound of your voice would make her shiver and if you accidentally brushed her leg on the couch she would scoot so far over she was almost on the arm rest. It was embarrassing. You felt almost disgusting. Like some parasite invading her space. She wouldn’t play her guitar for you anymore. And you wouldn’t find the little drawings she had done of you scattered on her walls.

It hurt. Cause you had finally bucked up the courage to ask her out when this all started happening. Maybe she knew you liked her and that was why she was avoiding you? Cause she didn’t like you back. The thoughts made you feel uneasy as you laid down and quietly cried.

The next morning Ellie would find you laying on the couch passed out with tear stains covering your cheeks. She felt horrible knowing she was the reason. She was your best friend and staying away from you was probably really hard on you. But she needed to get over her crush before you could go back to normal. So she rushed out of the dorm that morning and headed straight to class.

You felt groggy and out of it when you woke up but it was okay cause you didn’t have any classes today. You spent the day trying to hype yourself up for tonight.

“I have to look perfect.” You thought as you put on your everyday jewelry and slipped on your shoes. You tried to go for a model off duty kind of look, remembering when you wore a similar outfit and she said you looked nice. You did the finishing touches on your makeup and put on a perfume you knew she liked.

You took a deep breath before making your way to Dina’s. You knocked and the door swung open.

“Oh good! You’re here!” Dina smiles and you can tell how the party has been going. She was already tipsy. Jesse was in the corner dancing to disturbia by Rihanna. And some other friends were doing shots at the counter.

Then you saw her. Sitting on the windowsill. Joint resting between her fingers as she looks outside. You walk over and sit next to her causing her to squirm a little.

“Hey.” You breathe out and she sighs.

“Hey.”

“So… I was wondering if we could talk?” You ask fidgeting with the rings on your fingers. They seemed a little much now looking at how casual everyone else had dressed. I mean Ellie was wearing some jeans, a hoodie, and her converse. And she still looked like the most beautiful girl you’ve ever seen.

She blew out a puff of smoke turning to look at you. Visibly uncomfortable with the conversation already.

“I- yeah I guess.”

“Ellie. I really like you. I do but……“ you start to say when she cuts you off and stands up.

“Please don’t. It’s just mean. I don’t want your attempt at making me feel better.” She says getting worked up.

“What?” You say shocked as she looks down at you. People start to stare.

“I have been in love with you for years. And I never complained when you would talk about other people, because I knew I’d never have a chance. But now I know I could have and it’s the worst feeling in the world. And I can’t sit here and listen to you try and let me down easy. You’re my best friend but I can’t do this anymore.” She says pointing between you guys, hot tears streaming down her face. The party had gone quiet. Everyone staring at the sight in-front of them.

“Ellie please, that’s not…” You say reaching a hand out to hold hers and and she pulls it away.

“I can’t. I’m sorry.” She says and walks out the door. You quickly get up and chase after her.

She practically slammed the door in your face as she went inside. You go in and shut it behind you.

“I’m serious I need to be alone right now. God this is so embarrassing!” She yells at herself.

“Ellie I don’t care what you think. I need you to listen to me right now!” You say and shove her down on the couch making her go wide eyed.

“I was trying to tell you how much I like you. And how Ive wanted to be with you for a long time now. And every time I try to tell you, you push me away. And I do care about you. I care about you so much and it’s killing me to know that you’ve felt this way all this time. You are the most perfect and beautiful girl I have ever seen and I would do anything for you to understand that. We have been friends for so long, I didn’t want to ruin that at first but it was torcher. Because just the sight of you gives me butterflies and I can’t take it anymore.” You sob.

The hours of work you had put into your appearance seemingly was for nothing. Because as you kneeled down in front of her and grasped her hands she just stared at you. Your makeup was smudged from the tears and your hair was disheveled. But even in the moment of chaos and confessions all she could think about was how beautiful you were.

“I didn’t want to lose you.“ Ellie whispers placing her forehead to yours.

“You shouldn’t have pushed me away.” You choke out and she wipes a tear from your face making you took up at her.

“I’ll never push you away again.” She smiles softly. Tilting your chin up she brings your lips close. You can feel her breath on your face. Closing the gap slowly you press your lips to hers. It was gentle and sweet. Ellie had always wanted to know what your lips felt like, and it was better than she could have imagined. You tangled your fingers in her hair pulling her closer.

You could feel her smile into the kiss. Her hands gripped your waist as she pulled you both up. Stumbling backwards into the bedroom. You fell back onto her bed as she started to lift your shirt. You lift your back for easier access, when you feel her stop.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, nervous you already screwed this up.

“No, nothings wrong. It’s just… I’ve wanted this to happen for so long, trust me. But you’re not just some girl I met at a party. You’re you… and I want to do this right.” She says laying next to you now, propping herself up on her arm. Running her fingers through your hair.

“Let me take you out.” She says and you give her a playful smile.

“Like a date?” You grin. She places a small kiss you your lips. Parting with a soft whisper.

“Yes, like a date.” She smiles.

“Well I can’t wait for this date then.” You whisper back pulling her in closer.

#ellie x y/n #ellie x fem reader #ellie x you #ellie the last of us #ellie williams #ellie x reader #ellie tlou #ellie williams x reader #joel and ellie #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams x female reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams fluff #ellie williams angst #the last of us #loser ellie #ellie williams oneshot #Spotify

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hwanghyunjinenthusiast · 1 year

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What're friends for?

AN: As a fellow weeb, bringing up Soobin and hentai was only a matter of time. This is just crack tbh. Also, this is just me once again pushing the Boobs enthusiast! Soobin and Sub! Soobin agendas. (Also also, I was tipsy while editing this so, hopefully it's some level of coherent 💀)

Synopsis: A night that was supposed to be spent watching anime with your best friend takes a sharp turn when he accidentally forgets to close his hentai tab.

Heads up: Choi Soobin x Fem! Reader, mostly pwp, friends to friends who fuck, crack, mentions of hentai, Dom! Reader, Sub! Soobin, dirty talk, Reader thinks Soobin is cute and calls him cute a lot, handjob, oral sex (m. receiving), Reader has boobs big enough to give Soobin a titjob, titjob and Soobin cums on Reader's face and tiddies.

Word count: 2353

I will block you if you are a minor and/or have no easily visible indication of your age on your blog if you interact with me in any way.

"Hurry up!" you yell, making yourself comfortable on Soobin's bed as you wait for him to return from the kitchen with drinks.

"I'm coming, I'm coming. It's not like My Hero is going to go anywhere," he retorts when he finally returns with two glasses and a bottle of soda, shutting the door behind him.

"Yeah but, we barely get to spend time together in person and I don't want to waste it," you respond, moving over a little so he can comfortably settle beside you.

"True but, you don't need to yell," he says, rolling his eyes at you and grabbing his remote to switch on his TV.

Any response you have dies on your tongue when loud moans assault your ears. You're startled when you turn to see hentai playing on Soobin's screen. A pretty graphic scene of the male protagonist getting a titfuck from a woman with a...generous bust plays out on the screen, obscene sounds emitting from both of them.

Soobin fumbles with the remote, rushing to turn the TV off as quickly as he can. Silence rings out throughout his bedroom.

"Don't," is all he manages to choke out, his face speedrunning its way into scarlet territory.

"Hey, you have nothing to be embarrassed about. A lot of people watch porn," you say sincerely.

Soobin makes a noise that's a combination of embarrassment, frustration and distress. He refuses to look in your direction, choosing instead to stare holes into his bedroom door. Looking for all the world that he hopes the earth underneath him would open and swallow him whole.

"Seems like I was right about you being a boob guy atleast," you say jokingly, trying to ease the tension in the air.

He turns to face you so fast you're half surprised he doesn't snap his neck. "Who- how- why are you talking about what I prefer?" He asks, and his voice cracks halfway through.

"Soobin, relax, none of this is that big of a deal," you shrug, "You're not exactly... subtle when you take peaks at my boobs. Also, I just think you have boob guy energy. Can't really explain it beyond that."

You've never seen Soobin look like he's wished for death more than right now.

"I'm sorry for staring at your- um- it's inappropriate and really disrespectful-"

"Don't worry about it. I'm not offended. I'm pretty flattered, actually," you respond with a wave of your hand.

He looks stunned then, "Wha-what? You're not offended? Wait, you're flattered? Why?"

"Who doesn't feel flattered when someone thinks they're attractive?" You ask with a laugh, "Really, this doesn't have to be a big deal, Soobin."

"You're not the one whose porn habit was just exposed," he fires back but, it's difficult to take him seriously with that cute flush still colouring his cheeks.

"I don't mind sharing if you're really that curious,"

"You're really annoying, you know that?"

"Yet you think I'm attractive so, what does that say about you?"

Soobin looks like he's 5 seconds away from yelling.

"Okay, okay, I'm sorry," you soothe with minimal laughter this time around. Giving his arm a comforting squeeze. He says nothing after that, and the two of settle into a tense silence. However, you've always been too curious and talkative for your own good.

"Have you ever tried it?"

"Tried what?" He asks with his face scrunched up cutely in confusion.

"What they were doing in the hentai. Have you ever gotten a titjob?" You ask, genuinely curious.

The strangled noise he let's out starts to make you consider that maybe you are taking this a little too far.

"No," he mumbles out, dragging his hand across his face and pointedly looking at anything in his room that isn't you.

"Would you like to?"

"What?" Soobin's wide, startled eyes meeting yours. As though he's not entirely sure he heard you correctly.

"Would you like one? I wouldn't mind," you say sincerely. You've always thought your best friend was attractive and, clearly, he thinks you're attractive too. The circumstances couldn't be more perfect if you tried.

Soobin just stares at you for a long minute. His lips parted, and eyes wide.

"Are you... serious?"

"Yeah. I know I tease and joke a lot but, I wouldn't have offered if I wasn't serious,"

"You don't have to do this out of some misplaced sense of pity or whatever. I'll survive being embarrassed,"

"I'm not. I really want to. You can obviously say no. I'd never hold it against you, but I'm not offering out of pity. Not in the slightest,"

Soobin seems to still not believe this is all real, but he doesn't look quite as skeptical, and he's looking at you now, so that's a start.

"Okay," he says so softly that you almost miss it. Anticipation courses through you when his words do finally register. You shuffle closer to him then. Feeling a bit of pride when his blush darkens and his hands nervously toy with his sheets.

"Is it okay if I kiss you?"

"Yes," the already breathy quality of his voice makes your insides squirm. It's cute how he jumps slightly when your hand rests dangerously high on his thigh. You don't give him much time to think about it, though, because soon your lips are against his.

The moan he let's out goes straight to pussy. A dull ache already settling in as you try your best not to push him down and straddle his lap. You can't help the uptick of your lips when you feel him shudder as your tongue teases his mouth. He's just so fucking cute.

"You can touch me, you know," you tell him when you trail kisses along his jaw. Your hand moving further up his thigh as you shift closer to him.

"I did-didn't want to ma-make you uncomfortable," he stutters out, hands hovering nervously over you. "Soobin, you're going to be fucking my tits. It's completely fine to touch me," and to prove your point, you grab one of his gigantic hands and press it to one of your breasts.

Choosing not to wear a bra today definitely worked out for you. He seems to take initiative from there. Tentatively squeezing and letting a breathless 'fuck' as he takes in how soft you are.

Before you can utter more teasing remarks, his other hands weaves its way into your hair, and he meets your lips in a frenzied kiss. You moan against his pillowy lips when his thumb brushes over your nipple through your shirt. That just seems to egg him on more. Groaning into you when he gives you a particularly harsh squeeze.

For your part, your hands toy with the waistband of his sweats. Smiling when you feel his abdomen tense and jump with ever brush of your fingertips.

"Y/n," he whines, hips jerking towards you. "Yes?" You pull back and ask coyly, the ache between your thighs worsening as you take in how dishevelled he already looks.

"You're playing with me," he says with a pout and god, you want to ruin him. However, you push down the thought. You don't want to scare him off so soon.

"Playing with you? How?" You ask, titling your head in faux confusion.

"You're teas-teasing me. I want you t-to touch me," he rushes out so quickly you nearly miss his words. When you register what he says, your walls clench hard. You're a little surprised he said it so directly. Maybe he's becoming desperate. Cute.

"I am touching you, Soobin," you don't fail to notice the way he shudders when you say his name.

"You know what I mean,"

"I don't. You have to be specific,"

For a brief moment, you think he isn't going to respond. Maybe too embarrassed to tell you what he wants exactly.

"I want you to touch my cock," he whispers and, you pounce.

You don't give him a moment to comprehend what's happening. Kissing him fiercely as your hand snakes its way down his sweats and boxers. You both moan into each other at the contact. Fuck, he's much bigger than you fantasised about. Hot and incredibly hard in your palm.

"You're already so hard," you tease as you dot kisses along his jaw and, barely stroke him. The copious amounts of the pre-cum he's leaked out making for an easy glide nonetheless. Briefly, you wonder if he'd let you sit on it and ride him to your heart's content. Another time maybe.

"Yeah, for you," he moans, eyes fluttering shut and hips jolting against your hand to get as much friction as he can. It's not fair in the slightest how good he looks like this. His words certainly don't help either.

Impatiently, you tug his boxers and sweats down, and the sight of him flushed an appealing red makes you clench hard.

"Is it okay if I suck you off? Going in dry wouldn't be...pleasant," you ask, watching him for any signs of hesitance. However, you're met with the opposite. A throaty groan falling from his plush lips and his cock twitching against his stomach. This man really might just be the death of you.

"Yeah, it's okay," he mumbles, avoiding your gaze as the blush in his cheeks darken.

"You're so fucking cute," you breathe, kissing his neck and stroking him less leisurely this time around. His moans and the jerky, shallow thrusts of his hips into your hand make you grin against his skin and, your insides squirm.

"Shut up," he retorts but, it's severely undercut by how fucked out he already sounds. His hands gripping the sheets harshly.

"Oh?" You ask with faux innocence, stilling your hand around the base of his cock. Biting back a giggle when he whines and tries to fuck your hand for any sort of friction.

"Fu-fuck, fine. I'm so-sorry. I'm sorry, okay?" He grits out.

"Good boy," you say with a grin that's likely a tad too smug. Giving his jaw one more kiss, you ease yourself onto his floor. Honestly, you're impressed you're being so composed about all of this. Your breath stuttering in your lungs when you're eye level with his ridiculously appealing cock.

Soobin feels himself throb when your soft breaths hit him. It's made worse when he sees your tongue lick your lips and the look in your eyes. You look like you want to devour him.

The sharp gasp he let's out when you take your first lick of him goes straight to your clit. Ruined panties sticking to you uncomfortably as you familiarise yourself with the slightly salty taste that is all Soobin. His hips instinctively buck into you when you finally decide to stop toying with the poor man and, see how far you can take him.

"Fuc-fuck, sorry," he groans, eyes shut tightly as he tries his best to reign in his reactions. Such a cutie. You'd tell him so if your mouth wasn't filled with his dick. A mixture of your saliva and his pre-cum slipping past your lips and down your chin. Your hand stroking what you can't fit in your mouth and making sure he's thoroughly coated.

However, as much as you'd happily make him cum down your throat and keep sucking him off until he cries, tonight isn't about that.

His eyes are frantic and glassy when they meet yours. He looks so genuinely offended that you stop sucking him off that it almost makes you laugh. "Why?" Is all his foggy brain can seem to supply and you really want to kiss him.

Instead of answering him with words, you tug off your shirt and Soobin doesn't seem so upset anymore. Fiery eyes take in your breasts and committing them to memory. You don't fail to notice his cock twitching against his stomach, a fresh drop of pre-cum leaking out of him. God, he's just so easy.

"Still complaining?" You can't help but, tease. However, any response he would've given you dies on his tongue when you cup your breasts and envelope his slick cock in them.

The moan that flies from his lips is so wanton and broken that you can practically feel yourself soaking through your shorts. His eyes are shut as he tries his best not to fuck up into your ridiculously soft tits. Such a good boy.

You notice his large hands grip his sheets even more fiercely than before when you start to move. Allowing him to get accustomed to the glide of his cock between the valley of your breasts.

"Fe-Feels so good," he stutters out, weakly bucking into your touch. You've never felt more aroused in your entire life. He's so sensitive and responsive. You're sure you could have him cumming within minutes.

You bite back a grin when he gasps as you lick and suck at the head of his cock that pokes out. Looking up at him through fluttering lashes with his tip in your mouth and the rest of him nestled comfortably between your unfairly soft tits. His pre-cum and your saliva smearing your breasts.

You knew it wouldn't take much but, it still startles you when Soobin cums. He babbles out apologies as his hips jolt against you. His warm, thick cum landing on your tongue, face and breasts before you can even fully comprehend what just happened.

His cum isn't unpleasant. A little salty and you swallow it as he cock begins to soften between your breasts. You give him an apologetic look when he shudders as you slowly remove him from between your breasts. Looking around for anything to clean yourself up with.

"Fuck, again I'm so sorry," he apologises reaching into his bedside table for a few tissues, "here you go. I didn't mean to...make a mess."

Those words really shouldn't affect you as much as they do. At this point, you're sure even your shorts are ruined.

"It's okay. Honestly, it was really hot seeing you fall apart like that,"

The embarrassed, strained groan he gives you makes you smile harder than perhaps strictly necessary. He really is just so easy.

#choi soobin smut #soobin smut #txt smut

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buckyownsmylife · 5 months

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let the games begin - sebastian stan smut

The one where you ask him to explain the pepsi cup scene to you

Warnings: best friends to lovers, best friend!reader, hopelessly in love!Seb, reader has hair long enough for Seb to “play with” but do with that as you wish, innocent!reader, smut.

WC: 1.8k

A/N: this is just a sweet little smutty one-shot of best friend!Seb realizing you feel the same for him. I didn't delve deep into the smut because to be honest, this has been in my WIP list since the movie came out and I just couldn't be bothered to write more than what's here, yet I hope you'll enjoy it anyway!

Seb’s P.O.V.

“You ready for this? You know we don’t have to watch it, right?” I tried to convince her one more time, and still, she just rolled her eyes and pulled me to the sofa next to her. Oh, how I loved to feel her smaller frame tightly pressed against mine.

“Don’t be silly, of course I want to watch it. I’ve seen everything you’ve ever done, I can’t let one slightly scarring movie keep me away from this long standing tradition.” It warmed my heart to think that she’d been doing this way before we even met.

I kissed her temple before adjusting so her body would rest against my chest, and settled in for the film. I knew it would be an experience, to say the least, watching this with her, so I tried to prepare myself for anything that could happen.

She could end up traumatized and unable to look me in the eye. At the very least, it would certainly serve as ammunition for her to tease me for years to come, and that was one turn of events I could deal with. The first one was my real concern.

So I settled in to watch the movie, because I figured it would be best to be around than to wait for her reactions afterwards. What if she never wanted to see me again? I knew it was just my anxiety coming up with the worst possibilities, but it still scared the crap out of me.

I couldn’t imagine my life without her anymore. And maybe one day I’d grow the courage to tell her about it, but for now, I was perfectly happy just sitting here with her and offering some support when my character started to freak her out.

“Hey, there you are!” She giggled in excitement, pointing at the TV like I wasn’t watching it with her. It made me chuckle, seeing her act like a little kid when it came to me doing my job. God, she was precious.

“Yeah, there I am,” I agreed, leaning over her to deposit a quick kiss against her temple, but much to my surprise all I got was a nudge and a hush. “Are you shushing me?” She finally unglued her eyes from the television to look at me with disappointment all over her features.

“Seb, I love you, but if you keep interrupting the movie, I’m gonna kick you out and there’s nothing you can do about that.” I wanted to point out that if she did, she’d have to watch it by herself and there was no way she’d be able to sleep, but I didn’t want to risk her fury. So I just sat back and pulled her with me, playing with her hair as I watched the story unfold before my eyes.

For whatever reason, I seemed to forget that I looked a bit… different in my role at some point, and as I gained weight before our eyes, she turned around to look at me with a look I couldn’t figure out. It made me nervous.

“Why are you looking at me like that?” I had to ask, but she didn’t immediately answer me. I felt embarrassed, it was almost like she was comparing me to the man on the screen, and I didn’t know which one she preferred.

Could it be that now that she’d seen me like that, she couldn’t unsee it?

“I’ve always thought you looked better when Don wasn’t trying to make you look like some sort of bodybuilder, but this role just confirmed it to me. You’re even sexier with some weight on your body.”

My cheeks burned, and I didn’t know what to say. So I just cuddled her to me once more, focusing on the screen as I tried to work through my emotions - and there were many. Desire, barely concealed lust, something the hardening member inside my jeans wouldn’t let me forget - but also something warm and comfortable, settling deep inside my chest.

I didn’t want to give it a name. So I just pulled her to me yet again, kissed her temple and pretended to go back to watching the movie, while I waited for her attention to be redirected to it once more. When I was sure she wasn’t noticing me anymore, I got back to analyzing her reactions, chuckling under my breath at the way hers hitched at every little thing, and how she squeezed my thigh when she thought something scary would happen.

And then the car scene started. My muscles immediately froze underneath her, having completely forgotten about this particular part of the movie.

“What’s going on?” She asked, first surprised and then confused. “Is everything okay?” I couldn’t answer her. I couldn’t even look away from the screen, flinching as it developed right before my eyes. It was like my own self-made train wreck: unavoidable and paralyzing.

“Seb…” She reached out for my hand, asking for my attention, and I licked my lips and took a deep breath before turning to give it to her.

“I don’t get it, what’s going on?” I was about to tell her that I was just embarrassed, but the confusion in her eyes as they darted from the TV to my embarrassed self suddenly made sense to me.

“Wait,” I started, holding her jaw so she’d fix her eyes on mine and forget about the movie for a second. “You don’t understand the scene?” She hesitated for a second before nodding, biting her lower lip in that way she did when she was nervous.

It made the warmth inside my chest expand and take over my entire body, shooting straight to my lower belly, where it began to burn.

Fuck. Who would have thought that she was so innocent?

“Do you want me to tell you?” The question left my lips before I could ponder if my concern came from a valid place - my desire to help her, always.

But maybe things happened for a reason - maybe it was some sort of ungodly gift the idea of watching this movie together, because as I watched her glance over at the screen again and then lay her eyes on me, I saw it with perfect clarity:

She was aroused by it.

“Or would you like me to show you?” Another question that slipped from my lips unintentionally, another sentence I didn’t regret speaking. This… tension, it had always been here, between the both of us. I’d been too much of a coward to act on it before so if the ball was on my court now, it was time to let it roll.

“’Cause I’d be more than happy to.” With my last reassurance, the thread between us broke, and in a second, we were kissing. Who made the first move, I’d never know. All I cared about was her taste, how sweet she was, and the tiny little whimpers I could hear escaping her when I had to pull back to take a breath.

My body still acting of its own accord, I got up from the couch to take my pants off, hand immediately going to my hardness to release some of the frustration she was causing me. Thankfully, she didn’t seem scared - just hungry, looking at me with doe eyes and biting down on her lower lip before I pulled her closer so that her hand rested over mine.

“Fuck…” I whispered against her neck at the first contact of her hand on my naked dick, but for some reason that was all it took for the spell to break.

“Seb, I can’t…” She pulled away from me, chest still heaving from desire, but I felt so damn guilty I couldn’t even feel good about it. “I can’t do this and then pretend that it didn’t happen.”

Y/N’s P.O.V.

His face softened up instead of becoming angry, like I expected it would. “Come.” He got up from the couch, offering me his hand, which I took without second-guessing myself.

His eyes told me everything I needed to know.

He took me to his bed, where he kissed me deeply once again. “Don’t worry, I’ll be patient.” How could I say that I’d let him do anything to me?

Within seconds, I was naked. It was unlike any other similar experience I’d ever lived, and the way he stared at me only had me falling deeper into the cloud of comfort that only Seb could provide me.

“Spread your legs for me, honey.” I did so instinctively, also closing my eyes in nervousness at what was happening.

“Keep looking at me,” he asked, and so I reopened my eyes, finding him staring at my most private spot with hunger in his. “Fuck, you’re soaked.”

Before I could comprehend what was happening, he’d yanked me to the edge of the bed and proceeded to kneel down before me, lips kissing my inner thighs and navel while I panted softly.

“Fuck, I can’t believe that I get to taste you,” he uttered before his tongue stuck out and he did just that… He tasted me, and nothing had ever felt quite as great as that simple gesture.

“How does it feel, sweetheart?” He asked in the midst of attacking my clit with his tongue and lips, the hot muscle swirling over it and making my head spin. “Do you like this?”

“Yes, yes!” I nodded, hand flying down to hold him by the hair and keep him attached to me. “More, I want more.”

“What?” He teased me, the devious thing. “You want what?”

“More,” I insisted, pushing him down so his face would connect with my pussy once more. He didn’t keep up with his pretense and kept on licking me until I saw stars behind my closed eyelids, screaming his name for dear life.

“Kiss me,” I begged breathlessly once I was able to speak again, and he leaned over me to grant me my wish, allowing me to taste myself for the first time in my life.

“You know…” I struggled to find the courage to say what I wanted, but I knew I could trust Sebastian. “When we actually do it, you don’t need to be so gentle…”

He bit my shoulder in response, shaking his head at my antics. I thought I was dreaming, being naked in his bed, having just had the best orgasm of my life.

I wanted to do this for the rest of my life.

“I don’t want to go to sleep tonight,” I confessed, watching as the most beautiful smile opened up in my best friend’s face.

“Lucky for you, there are a ton of things we can do to pass the time.”

#my fics #sebastian stan smut #sebastian stan #smut #rpf #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan reader smut

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littledovesnow · 9 months

Text

president snow, the prelude

a/n: so there were like 750 words that didn't make it into the final fic for president!coryo, here they are! i wasn't going to publish this, but it sets up a lot of the backstory for future fics i have planned :)

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The room was electric as Lucky Flickerman’s face popped up on the TV, ready to announce Panem’s next president.

Your husband, who was freshly twenty-five and had his name on the ballot fo the first time, stood next to you, hand laced in your own.

“You’re a shoo-in, Coryo, I don’t know what they’re even doing counting the votes. Everyone knows you’re going to come out on top. After all, Snow lands on top.”

Coriolanus smiled softly at the sound of his family’s favorite phrase. He knew he had most likely won the election as well, but he wanted to hear the final vote before celebrating anything.

“The results are in,” Lucky Flickerman’s dramatics were dialed to a hundred tonight, as he flicked open an envelope brought to him by a station worker.

“Panem’s next president is,” he trailed off, wanting to build the anticipation.

You could feel the electric in the air, squeezing your husband’s hand as Lucky opened his mouth to continue. “The Capitol’s own Coriolanus Snow!”

Cheers erupted from the Snow’s great room, Coriolanus’ closest family and friends having gathered for the momentous occasion.

Mr. and Mrs. Plinth, who thought of you considered your in-laws, wasted no time in congratulating the young man, their next president. “We always knew you had it in you, Coriolanus. Ever since you and Sejanus first were mentors way back when!”

You and Coriolanus shared a look, neither of you had ever come out with the truth about what happened when Coriolanus was exiled the summer after the 10th Hunger Games.

Putting on a smile, Coriolanus hugged the older woman, and shook hands with his late classmate’s father. “You’ll do this nation proud, boy.”

“Thank you, Mr. Plinth.”

Mrs. Plinth brought her attention to you, the nation’s next First Lady. “You’ll be a splendid First Lady! Oh, the Capitol will be overjoyed to have a young couple at the helm again! Especially once a child is brought up!”

You stopped yourself from frowning, instead giving the woman a soft smile.

Coriolanus watched with a careful eye, not wanting to cause a scene at the woman’s comments. He and you had been trying for a child for a few months, to no avail. One of his first tasks as president would be to find better fertility care, as he was growing worried that each failure was taking a larger toll on you than you let on.

“If you’ll excuse us, I believe I do need to go make a speech.” Coriolanus smiled, tugging you out of the room with a promise to catch up at his inauguration.

You waited until you two were in the privacy of your bedroom before letting any emotions go, inner turmoil over your husband’s victory and sadness over Mrs. Plinth’s comment.

“Hey, hey, look at me.” Coriolanus murmured; voice much softer than when he is in public. “What’s going on in that pretty mind of yours?”

You looked at your husband with tears on deck, stomach rolling over. “She’s true. The Capitol’s going to want us to start a family as soon as possible. I’m going to be seen as a failure if I can’t even get pregnant!”

Coriolanus wrapped his arms around you as your emotions crumbled, heat growing in his heart. He wanted to immediately call for her to lose her tongue, with little regard that she was one of the two people who had helped him financially be able to make it to this point in his life.

“We’ll figure it out, my love. I vowed to help you become a mother, and it’s a vow I intend to keep.”

You sniffled, wiping your nose on your sleeve, earning a tsk from the president-elect. “I just wish it was as easy as It is for everyone else. I deserve this, for God’s sake!”

Coriolanus frowned, hand running up and down your spine. “I know, my love.” He wasn’t sure what else to say, so he kept his lips closed.

The two of you stayed like that for a few moments more, until there was a knock at the door, an Avox opening it once Coriolanus granted permission.

Holding a phone up, the Avox gestured to Coriolanus, who begrudgingly stepped away from you to take the call, which was Lucky Flickerman himself, conducting a phone-style interview live on air.

Coriolanus rolled his eyes, playing into the pizazz and cheer over the phone, stating how excited he was to have this honor as president, all while sitting on the luxurious bed you two shared, hand moving up and down your arm as you curled into his side.

-----

a/n: and there it is folks, basically why i made coriolanus want funding for a fertility clinic :)

#it's giving the lead to good angst in future fics!!!!!!#young coriolanus snow #coriolanus snow imagine #coriolanus snow x reader #coriolanus x you #coriolanus x reader #the ballad of songbirds and snakes #hunger games x reader #hunger games tbosas #hunger games imagine

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1d1195 · 2 years

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Zipper

Hi hi, sorry for the short break there. I've been working on this the last three days and it flowed out quite quickly to 9.5K words.

Warnings: Harry doesn't like her (or does he), there's a damsel in distress scene implying SA nothing happens nor described but could be triggering, "enemies" trope, Harry wears a lot of suits and is angry a lot.

Disclaimer: Everything I know about lawyers comes from TV shows.

Harry was a smart guy, but he truly hadn’t a clue as to why he was so mad at the prospect of liking her.

So, he pretended he didn’t. “You and Harry are together an awful lot,” his friend Niall said to her with a smirk once. They were in clear earshot of Harry, and nothing made Harry crankier than knowing his friends saw how mean he was toward her. It was the topic of many conversations over video games and while working out at the gym.

“Enough, Niall,” he muttered. “It’s not by choice.”

“Don’t know why he’s all grumpy about you all the time, princess,” Niall said quietly to her when his back was turned. “He talks about you more than any girl I’ve ever seen him with.”

“He just doesn’t like me much,” she explained.

“Oh, princess. I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Harry hated her. She could never figure out why. She and Gemma were on the same soccer team growing up, so she’s known Harry for forever. Because she and Harry were of the same caliber in school (and the same age), they were always in each other’s classes. Always in group projects together.

It made her wildly popular in school to know the one and only Harry Styles so closely—and she did. She knew he wouldn’t drink tea past four in the afternoon. He liked chocolate candy better than fruity candy. Any time he saw a dog while they were on their way to study together, he would dig a bag of little treats out of his backpack to give away. When his left eye got droopy it meant they had to take a break and she would always recommend some hot chocolate or lemonade (depending on the season) at the coffee shop near the town library.

However, their conversations never delved too deeply. She knew his birthday but not his favorite color—she suspected it was blue or maybe orange because most of his pens were blue and his highlighters were almost always orange. Of course, she knew Gemma and Anne, but she didn’t know what their relationship with Harry was like. Because of school, she knew most of his political opinions—and big shocker, they were roughly the same as hers—but she didn’t know his favorite music or if he liked to sleep with a fan on or not. When he was sick, she didn’t know if he liked sleep or soup. If it was his last day on earth, she doesn’t know how he would spend it. They weren’t things that she necessarily needed to know to define their friendship, but somehow, in her eyes, they were.

Other than school mandated projects, she was convinced Harry wouldn’t give her the time of day. “Can we jus’ get this over with?” Was Harry’s mantra around her during their school days.

She wished they could be friends.

She didn’t want to be that girl, but it was impossible not to be. Harry was beautiful and he was nice—just not very nice to her. She didn’t fault him for it, she wasn’t his cup of tea and that was fine. The way other girls sighed and ahh-ed over him made her jealous. She couldn’t do that. Harry was Gemma’s brother and her peer and that was it.

Needless to say, their lives were clearly going to be attached for the rest of their lives. They were like a coat zipper. They met when they were young and as they slid the zipper to the top more pieces of their life meshed. At first it was soccer with Gemma, then it was school in general, projects and friend groups, and now it was university.

Of course, they were going to get degrees in history and law.

Of course, they would have classes together.

Of course, Harry would be at every party she was invited to.

She knocked on the door to the party her friends were invited to, and she waited as the door opened. “God you’re everywhere,” he muttered taking a swig of the drink in his hand. He opened the door wider to allow her and her friends in and walked away without mingling a moment longer. She sighed and stepped through the threshold while her friends filed in behind her.

“You know Harry?” One of her friends gasped.

“Yeah,” she shrugged. “Grew up together,” she said heading for the kitchen to get a drink. There was a barrage of questioning. The interrogation of how well she knew him, if he was single—he was, as far as she knew—and so on. “He doesn’t like me much,” she shrugged.

“Shut up,” her friend said. “He likes everyone.”

“I’m not sure what to tell you. I’m not everyone.”

They were kind enough to let the conversation drop. But their eyes darted back forth between the two of them whenever they were remotely in the same realm as one another. Harry was never outrightly mean to her. He never made fun of her and never talked ill of her. They talked about school projects and assignments and classes and that was it.

Harry’s friends all really liked her. Of course, they liked her. There wasn’t anything to dislike about her. She was brilliant, incredibly kind, and naturally nurturing. It made Harry nauseous most of the time. He hated she could be so kind all the time—even when he was a dick to her. It made it all the harder for him to not like her.

It was halfway through the semester when her phone vibrated with a message from Harry. She could feel the confusion wrinkling her face as she brought the phone closer to her face as if it was a trick. Harry never texted her. If there was a school project that needed doing, he was highly professional and would only email her. The only reason she had his number was because Gemma gave it to her when her phone was broken, and she was her ride to their soccer tournaments.

Could you read my essay?

Surely this was a trick. She couldn’t help but ask. Really?

Yeah. The response was immediate. Obviously, nothing special. She could practically feel his annoyance through his text bubble.

Sure.

Thanks. Conclusion needs work, I know.

The conclusion may have needed work, but it was a pretty good essay otherwise. A few grammatical errors and a rewording of a paragraph or two and his essay was finished. She didn’t question why Harry asked her. Surely, he had plenty of friends that would be willing to read it over.

His seeking her out was quite the surprise to her, but to Harry it made the most sense. At some point in time, maybe in year ten, he realized that he was probably stuck with her for a good long while. There was no denying she was smart—in fact, Harry thought she was brilliant. Probably smarter than him on any given day. And again, that agonizing kindness made him sick. He knew she would read his essay because she was so nice. If Harry acted the way he did to anyone else but her, they wouldn’t give him the time of day.

But he also didn’t trust anyone else in the world to read his work and know what it needed like she did.

She took all the essay reading to mean it was okay to ask him for school favors as well.

Do you have notes from the history lecture yesterday? I wasn’t feeling well.

I’ll email them to you.

Thank you.

Harry took good notes. She wouldn’t have asked anyone but Harry because she knew they took notes the same way. Of course, they did. If anything, his notes were neater because he typed just as fast as their professor spoke while she preferred to handwrite so she would remember better.

Do you know what our professor meant by this?

She sent him back a picture of her own notes with a marking around the part that Harry was referring to. This was my interpretation, but I emailed him to double check, I’ll let you know what he says.

Thanks.

Harry looked at her notes on his phone again and admired her handwriting. He doesn’t know how she was able to write so much so quickly during their lectures. He saw her shake her hand out every time their professor paused to answer a question or catch a breath. She had pretty handwriting.

The parties they attended together (not on purpose, just by happenstance) were when Harry was at his meanest. He would roll his eyes at her if she was part of a drinking game. Harry’s eyes shot daggers whenever any guy tried speaking with her, always there to remind her of some project they had to do, and he didn’t want to be stuck doing it himself. None of it clicked to her that he was jealous.

Of course, he was. She was the prettiest and nicest girl he knew, and he was mad.

Harry was a smart guy, but he truly hadn’t a clue as to why he was so mad at the prospect of liking her.

“Enough, Niall,” he muttered. “It’s not by choice.”

That stung, made her face warm in embarrassment, but it was partly true. They were practically stuck together. Zipped together by some life force. “Don’t know why he’s all grumpy about you all the time, princess,” Niall said quietly to her when his back was turned. “He talks about you more than any girl I’ve ever seen him with.”

She shrugged it off. It would make sense, he talked about her so much. Other than her roommate she probably saw Harry more than her own family. “He just doesn’t like me much,” she explained.

“Oh, princess. I think it’s quite the opposite.”

Gem suggested I ask if we could carpool home. Save her a trip.

Yeah, of course.

Thanks.

“Do you like her?” Niall asked Harry. “Like, she’s really nice and pretty. Obviously, she’s very smart so—"

He cleared his throat to hide the gasp that nearly left his lips. “What?” He asked, slipping his phone back into his pocket. They were at the library whispering to each other while studying for finals. He could see her in the back corner, headphones in her ears and answering his message almost as soon as he sent it. He was certain she would ace all her exams, no problem at all.

“Your friend from home,” he tilted his head to the girl in the corner. “Do you like her?” He repeated.

Harry shook his head. “No.”

Niall quirked an eyebrow at him. “S’weird...you’re kind of perfect for each other.”

“Shut up,” he grumbled. He wanted no part of it. Sure, she was nice and sweet, and in the right light Harry couldn’t help but be overwhelmed by how pretty she was. But he didn’t want to be with someone he’d known his whole life. He wanted someone he didn’t know—someone that didn’t know his every thought. He wanted to discover a new relationship where he would find someone that didn’t know everything there was to know about him.

Regardless, if he knew all too well that she would be perfect for him.

*A few years later*

“This will be your office,” the sweet secretary informed her. She wasn’t a young secretary, but she wasn’t old either. Somewhere in the middle—she reminded her of her mom and that eased her worry of her new job fresh out of school. “I heard you know your office neighbor here. He gave you a glowing recommendation saying “the bosses would be fools to not hire you” I believe was how he phrased it. They’re all very excited to have you on board.”

She blinked, setting her box down of trinkets she collected ready to have her first big job. A list of clients sat on her desk. She was ready to get started—eager even. Excited and nervous all at once. The box of trinkets would make her office homier and she started setting out the calendar and picture frames as she shook her head at the woman helping her get the lay of the land. “That can’t be right, my professors did my recommendations...I can’t imagine my professors saying that about me,” she chuckled nervously. “I think they liked me and all but—”

“No, no!” She interrupted with a giggle. “Pardon me, one of your references, Harry; Harry Styles,” she smirked.

Blinking in surprise, she felt her lips part in a breathless gasp. She had asked Harry as a parting gift of sorts if he’d be willing to be a reference for her on her job applications. “I don’t think anyone really knows my work ethic the way you do,” she admitted. “I understand if you don’t want to, I’d be willing to be a reference for you as well either—”

“Sure,” he shrugged. “No problem. That’s probably a good idea. Thank you.”

“Harry works here?” She asked, completely dumbfounded. She shouldn’t have been. She should have known of all the gin joints. Her heart pounded and the air in the room felt thin. When she had sent her applications and resumes out to every firm in the area, she didn’t dream that she would still be side by side with Harry. There were easily fifty or so firms in the city. There was no way the length of their lives on this zipper extended to work post-graduation.

“I thought that was why you applied here. Harry made it seem like you both—”

“Hi,” speak of the devil. She wanted to know the end of that sentence. The idea that Harry made it seem like anything was between them—friendship, collegiate respect, anything—seemed paradoxical.

But here he was in all his brilliant and handsome glory.

Harry looked effortlessly beautiful and nearly seductive standing in her office doorway. He was wearing a suit, but it looked like it was nearly painted on him—hugging each of his defined arms and seemed to stretch perfectly over his long legs. Throughout their schooling and university, she wondered when he had time to hit the gym because he didn’t go while she walked on the treadmill and read her textbooks—the one time the zipper of life skipped over their meeting. But it was obvious he had found time. Again, she wasn’t immune to his good looks and persona. She had seen him be nice and lovely to everyone he knew time and time again.

Just not her.

His hair was styled just so, and she could practically see the sweet secretary swooning at the sight of him. “Welcome,” he said. He looked like a kid to her. As if his mom told him to say hi and wish her a happy birthday or something even though he didn’t want to. He smiled weakly at her. It felt forced.

“Hi,” she answered, still in shock.

He nodded at her and left without another word. “He’s dreamy,” she said with an all too familiar sigh. “I don’t know how anyone gets any work done around here.”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe he works here.”

“I completely assumed he told you about the position...His friend is one of the senior partners,” she shrugged. “Louis?” She said. “I think Louis’ younger sister knows of you both or something.” She tilted her head at the woman. “I know everything,” she shrugged.

“You sure do,” she smirked. “Uh...no, I didn’t know Harry worked here.”

“I think it was Harry’s plan along with Louis or whatever—since they were young. They hang out a lot here.”

“Hmm,” she hummed. “I didn’t know that.”

“I didn’t mean to say Harry’s the reason you got the job—your qualifications are outstanding and—”

“No, no, you’re fine,” she promised. “I know what you meant.”

Poor Harry.

For the most part though, the two rarely interacted. They would run into each other in the break room or near the copier in the storage room. On one occasion Harry asked her to read over his outline for a case to make sure he hit all the major components of what he needed to do. Every so often Harry would bring her tea and not say anything at all to her. She found it odd and thanked him even though he never spoke to her.

She was oddly comforted by the fact he was just one room over.

There was a gentle knock on her door before it opened. “Some of us are getting Chinese food and I noticed you’ve been holed up all day—are you okay?” Harry appeared speaking the longest sentence that wasn’t about schoolwork or a case in their entire life. And he even asked about her well-being.

She wasn’t okay. She had a headache, something fierce. It started at the bridge of her nose, gripped the back of her eyes, and was reaching for the back of her head. “Yeah,” she murmured not looking up from her papers on her desk. Her voice sounded weak and scratchy. How long had it been since she looked up? Her neck felt cramped as she raised her head slowly to look at Harry. She wished she had a glass of water.

“Kitten...y’don’t look so good,” he said quietly.

“M’okay...M’jus not feeling so well,” she shrugged. “But I have to get this done,” she told him. “I think I skipped lunch,” if she could fathom the idea of using any part of her brain for something other than this case, she would have noted how Harry so sweetly called her kitten.

He sighed, almost annoyed and she briefly wondered what she did wrong now. He disappeared for a moment. Within an instant he came back with water, pills, and a protein bar. “I’ll get some Chinese for you too.”

“Thank you,” she mumbled glancing briefly at how pretty he looked in his suit and how kind it was of him to bring her medicine. “I’ll Venmo—”

“Shh,” he said and turned off the overhead light of her office as he left. Leaving her in darkness except for the desk lamp to her left. “Try a nap on the couch,” he said. “I’ll wake you when the food is here.”

“Kitten,” he said softly. He gently shook her, and she tried to remember if Harry had ever touched her in their entire lives. The smell of greasy, salty food woke her up the rest of the way. Harry seemed to know her Chinese food order. She searched her memories if they ever ordered Chinese together and how he remembered.

“How’d you know what to get?” She asked stupidly. She could blame the headache or the lack of sleep if he said something mean about it.

He didn’t. “Your friends ordered at a party junior year,” he shrugged. “Remembered what you liked.”

“Oh.” He waited until she was upright and eating—staring at her like one of their science experiments from school. “Do you want some—”

“No, just making sure you actually eat.”

She felt her face warm, and she shook her head. “Uh. Thanks, that’s not necessary.”

“Well clearly it is if y’forget t’eat lunch and make yourself sick.” Again, her face heated up, but she said nothing because he was right. “What are you working on, anyway?” He asked. “That you’re skipping lunch and everything.”

“Uh...I just want to make a good impression and make sure I’m doing everything I can.”

“I’ve never known you to not give a hundred and twenty percent, love. If anyone has a question about your qualifications, you can send them to me.”

“How come you get to act like a partner?” She asked. “M’not jealous or anything—I’m just wondering why—”

“Louis always said I was brilliant or whatever,” he said casually with a shrug. He wasn’t bragging. He was just stating a fact. It was true too. Harry was brilliant. “I always told him it was because I worked with you, but he didn’t believe me. So, when he saw m’name as a reference on your application, I told him he would understand it was your brilliance that helped me be so successful and if he didn’t hire you, it would be a terrible mistake in his career because you would go be perfect and wonderful somewhere else. He’s seen your work, trust me, kitten. He knows how hard you’re working and you’re making an unbelievable impression. You don’t need to skip lunch t’prove your worth.”

This by far was the kindest thing Harry ever said of her—maybe anyone had ever said of her. She was speechless. Maybe it was the sleep still on her brain. Or the pain in her head that caused Harry to turn off the lights, so it was dark and quiet in her office. Or maybe it was because Harry finally said something sweet about her. But she finally worked up the courage to ask a question that had bothered her for their entire lives. “How come you don’t like me?” Her voice was so quiet it pained Harry.

He shook his head. “I like you,” he said with an eye roll. She wondered if it was no longer hard for him to lie like that. Countless people must have asked him over the years. Certainly, by now he perfected the tone and emotion needed to get people off the subject.

“Not really,” she said with sigh. When they were younger it definitely upset her more that Harry disliked her so much. When people asked she would feel a sting come behind her eyes because it would have made all the sense in the world for Harry to be her best friend. Now, it was just a matter of fact. NaCl was salt, flowers bloomed in spring, and Harry didn’t like her. “It’s fine...” but her voice cracked just a hair like it used to when she was asked about why Harry didn’t like her at all. “I just...I don’t know. We would have been really good friends if you did...that’s all,” she gave a small shrug eating another bite of her food.

“You want to be friends?” He questioned, surprised. Even though he was a dick to her she wanted to be friends. She seemed to be a glutton for punishment.

“Well,” she cleared her throat pushing her orange chicken through her fried rice as a distraction. “I guess we’re kind of old to be asking that,” she said quietly. “We just spent a lot of time together growing up. I think it would have made sense,” she explained. It felt like she was arguing another case, it was far more awkward though and while she would have liked to win, she didn’t know if it was worth it. “It’s fine...you don’t have to be my friend. Thank you for the food.”

“Kitten, I,” he sighed and ran his hand over his face pinching his lower lip between his fingers. She could tell from the tone in his voice he was exasperated by her. She should have just eaten faster and let him leave without the third degree. “We can be friends.”

She blinked at her food and then turned to look at him. “We can?”

He tilted his head at her and rolled his eyes. “Would it make you happy?” He asked.

She was lucky her brain wasn’t fully functioning due to the lack of food. That was a weird question for him to ask. Harry never once cared if she was happy or not the entire time that she knew him. “Yes.”

“Then we can be friends.”

Despite their newly found friendship, she tried not to overwhelm Harry. They made small talk when they ran into each other at the office. About once a week Harry would text her asking if she would like to carpool to work and she politely declined because again, she didn’t want to bother him.

“Hey, I’m going to meet a client at Starbucks, do you want any coffee when I get—oh,” she said softly. For the entire time she’d known Harry, she had never seen one hair out of place. Not one shirt collar unpressed. A shoelace never untied.

Right now, Harry’s hair was clearly the result of running his hand through it several times over, his eyes rimmed red, and his papers on his desk distributed haphazardly on the floor. “Go away,” he grumbled looking at the ground.

“Harry, are you alright?” She asked quickly closing the door behind her.

“Fine,” he spit. “Just leave.”

“Uh, no,” she swallowed the nervousness down. She thought about how nice he was when she wasn’t feeling well. She wanted to return the favor if she could. Whatever his outburst was about, she wanted to help. “You don’t look okay. What’s wrong? Can I help—”

“No,” he said firmly.

“Harry, seriously.”

“M’mum was in a car accident, Gem called,” he snapped. He had his head hung low as he pressed his hands to the back of his head. “I have a disposition in an hour and Mum’s in surgery. Okay. Are you happy?”

She blinked. No, she wasn’t happy. But she knew why he snapped. That answered her question about what his relationship with his mom was like. “Harry, I’m so sorry.”

“Whatever,” he sniffed.

“Harry...you...you should go to the hospital.”

God she was infuriating; this friendship thing was a stupid idea. She was too nice and sweet. “Did you not—”

“Harry, it’s your mom,” she reminded him. He looked up at her, again the startling contrast of his usual put together self and this...broken man made her weak. She wanted to pluck every piece of pain from his body and put it somewhere that would never find him again.

“I know!” he nearly shouted. “I can’t leave though,” he said softer than his shout. It was agonizing, she knew it was breaking him.

“I can do your disposition Harry. You have to go to the hospital.”

“You don’t know the case.”

“Give me the highlights.”

He looked up finally, right in her eyes and stared at her. “You would really do this?” He asked. She nodded. “What about your client?”

“I’ll reschedule. This is more important.”

“I can’t lose this one.”

“I’ll do my level best,” she promised. “Trust me.” He did. Implicitly. All the school projects, every presentation, any time Harry forgot something he knew she wouldn’t. She was always there to make everything they did better. “Just go and don’t worry about this.”

Harry sucked his lip into his mouth as she put the phone to her ear and quickly told the other end of the line she had to reschedule because of a family emergency—but she left out that it wasn’t her family. They could do dinner this evening if she’d like on short notice or coffee tomorrow. It was done with ease and grace. The client at the other end didn’t seem to mind in the slightest. “I don’t think I can do this,” Harry admitted; he wasn’t sure he would tell anyone else that except the girl he had known for his whole life. In Harry’s eyes, no one knew him better—even if she didn’t know it. “This client is very particular, and he’s mean and—”

“I can handle mean,” she said firmly. Harry wasn’t in the headspace to realize she could handle mean because of him. “Harry, you’re going to the hospital. You won’t do a good job if your mind is on your mom and you’re worrying the whole time. Then you’ll be worried you’re ruining the disposition so just let me help.”

He nodded solemnly. She was right, of course. She waited for him to make his decision. His knee bouncing the whole time as she picked the papers off his floor, and she organized them into neat little piles on his desk. “Okay.”

“Okay,” she said and pulled her phone from her purse. “Hit me,” she said holding the phone out to him ready to record.

Harry arrived at the hospital. Gemma was in tears but in such shock as she gazed at her arriving brother. “Are you really here?” She asked hugging him tight. He nodded, squeezing her hard.

“How’s Mum?” He asked ignoring her obvious question that he would never willingly leave work—especially if he had an important meeting.

“She’s okay,” she said, eyes red and teary. She nodded firmly. “It was really scary because they wouldn’t say until I got here. Surgery is needed but not life or death,” she explained. “She’ll be ready to see us in a few moments.”

Harry sighed with relief and sat in the waiting room chair. “Christ,” he muttered.

“I thought you had a disposition?” Harry quickly explained the situation and that the sweet girl was taking care of it. “You work with her?” Gemma asked. Harry nodded.

“Yeah, why?”

She shook her head. “I can’t believe you’re...paired again. It’s just fate, y’know?” She mumbled. “S’nice you have her to look after you. To have someone you know and trust nearby,” she told her younger brother. “I love her,” she said with a shrug. “Even if you don’t.”

Harry ignored her. He was focused on his mom. He was relieved she was okay. But he wanted to see her.

His phone vibrated with a text from her. She promised an update as soon as the disposition was finished.

All done. Went well. I left notes on your desk. Let me know if you need anything. Wish your mom and Gem well. Don’t worry about anything else here.

Thank you, kitten.

“Kitten, hmm?”

“Yeah.”

Harry locked his phone. When they went to the room where his mother lay looking banged up but alive, he nearly cried. “Hi Mum,” he sniffed.

“Well, aren’t you a sight for sore eyes,” she smirked easily. Nearly unaffected by the wires and tubes. “How’d you get out of work?” Gemma was delighted to tell the tale of the sweet girl. “Oh, I love her,” Anne grinned tiredly. “Why didn’t you ever bring her home, Harry?” She wondered. Harry started to answer but the arrival of a get-well basket on behalf of that sweet girl made its way through the threshold halting all of Harry’s thoughts of an excuse.

Because he really didn’t know why he never brought her home.

At the company party Harry eyed her from across the way. They were definitely friendlier, but Harry was hedging his bets. First and foremost, he was still hesitant to be in love with her. She was perfect and if he thought for two seconds longer, he would realize his stupid idea that he shouldn’t be in love with someone he’s known his whole life wasn’t his issue. Perhaps his issue was that she was perfect, and Harry was not. It seemed cruel for fate to tempt him like that. But maybe there was a reason she was so heavily involved in every aspect of his life.

Harry also wasn’t blind to the implications of dating a coworker.

But most importantly to him, she was so good at everything he couldn’t imagine being a subpar boyfriend when she deserved the very best. Harry didn’t even know how to be a boyfriend. Because of all the schoolwork he focused on he rarely dated anyone longer than a few dates or the occasional hookup.

And he had seen her in action as a girlfriend. Their junior year of university she dated a guy that she obviously adored for nearly a year and a half. She was naturally perfect. Went to every basketball game he was in, brought him soup when he wasn’t feeling well, and looked over his work for him before he turned it in. He was exactly what Harry imagined her boyfriend would be like. Attractive, hardworking, and very sweet to her. They met at the gym while she was studying for her ethics class on the treadmill (he only knew this because he told the story at a party, they both attended and Harry was intently listening).

The only problem Harry had with him—besides the fact he was dating the girl he spent so much time with—was he was not ambitious, and he never planned any of their dates. Harry hated him. She deserved flowers and coffee dates. Ice skating and movies. Once while she was on the phone with her sister when Harry was arriving at one of their study sessions, he knew she wanted a carriage ride around the park at Christmas. It wasn’t hard to figure out, so he was glad when he found out she broke up with him. Even if Harry didn’t like her, he knew she deserved more than that.

“Harry!” It was the client he had to skip out on for his mum the other day. “How’s your mum?” He asked.

“She’s fine, thank you. I’m sorry for the short notice of me not being there,” he said seriously.

“I was mad as hell when she told me you left. I think I screamed at her,” he admitted. Harry didn’t like that at all. The way his blood boiled at the idea of anyone yelling at her made him want to punch his client. Harry never thought himself a violent person, but here he was angry on behalf of a girl he only barely liked. It made him even madder that she didn’t mention anything at all about getting yelled at either. “But she was incredible! You can leave me with her anytime—she was brilliant and poised. I don’t think anyone suspected anything she had to say.”

“Yes, she’s very good,” Harry murmured around a sip of his drink. He was right, too. No one ever suspected the sweet girl to know anything. She was all eyes and beauty. She was softspoken, but her words carried weight. It would be entirely unfair for her to be exceedingly intelligent too. But she was. Harry hated the way people underestimated her, especially when they were paired together. It was like they thought he was only paired with her because she was pretty.

“She’s easy on the eyes too,” he winked at Harry. Harry gripped his drink tighter as he envisioned shattering the glass over top of his head.

“Ha, yeah.”

“Well thank you. I’m glad your mum is okay. I’ll keep you posted about the next meetings,” he said.

Harry nodded. “Have a drink on my tab, please,” he said gratefully.

Harry was suddenly at her side. “You didn’t tell me he yelled at you,” he said interrupting whatever conversation she was in currently.

“Uh, sorry,” she said softly clearing her throat to the gathering that eyed Harry like they’d never seen a man before. It was clear the interruption didn’t bother them solely because Harry was the one interrupting and it gave them an excuse to ogle him up close. She was lucky she spent so much time with him growing up. She could ogle at her own leisure. “Excuse me,” she grabbed Harry by the forearm, and he swore it felt like fire where she touched him. He wracked his brain for a memory if she ever touched him before this moment. “Come again?”

“My client. He told me he yelled at you. You didn’t tell me that.”

“Uh...you were kind of busy Harry. I’m used to getting yelled at, it wasn’t a big deal to—”

“Who yells at you?” He asked quickly. “Why would they yell at you?” Harry felt his blood boiling and he didn’t really know why. He wanted to put her in his office and monitor every interaction she had with anyone else in the world. She should never be yelled at—he would be sure of it going forward.

“Well clients mostly, my sister, you, this woman yelled at me one time at the grocery store—”

“I’ve never yelled at you.”

“Yes, you have,” she shrugged. “It’s not a big deal. We work in a business of yelling, Harry.”

He wanted to throw his glass across the room now. “I’m sorry I yelled at you.”

“Seriously?” She asked.

“Seriously, what?”

“It’s really okay, Harry. I’ve been yelled at before.”

“But you shouldn’t be,” he was exasperated again. It was a quick switch to get to this breaking point of her complete non-understanding of why he was mad. But she didn’t really know why he was mad, and it was unfair of Harry to be so agitated by her when he didn’t even know why he was mad.

“Harry,” she said gently and put a hand on his forearm and gave him a squeeze. She gazed at him with those beautiful, lovely eyes and Harry could feel himself melting at the sweet expression on her face. “It’s okay,” she promised. He tore his arm from her and stalked off angrily sipping his drink before he did something like tell her she loved him.

So much for friends. She thought to herself.

Harry never really avoided her at firm parties. But he seemed like he was at this one. She hadn’t seen him in a while, and it oddly made her uncomfortable to not knowing where he was. She supposed since she had been with him for nearly 20 years of her life, when he wasn’t around, she knew. It didn’t make the party any less fun nor did it deter her from chatting with potential and current clients.

“Hello there,” a man said while she waited for her drink at the bar. She could tell he had too much to drink. It was another member of their team. Someone she saw on a very rare occasion. His client load was substantial and kept him busy and away from the office most days.

“Hi,” she said politely. He was a tall man. And with the alcohol coursing his bloodstream he knew very little of personal space.

“You’re very pretty,” he slurred. Her face felt hot at his assessment, and she wished she wasn’t by herself.

“Thank you,” she said gently and walked toward a group of the women she was chatting with before she headed to the bar to get another drink.

“I’ve seen you around,” he said following her another step. “You’re very smart.”

“Try to be—I have to get back to my friends,” she said gesturing to the women nearby. He frowned but she could feel his gaze on her back as she hurried back over. Fortunately, he was gone when she glanced back.

At the end of the party, she told her friends she was going to use the restroom before she left and not to worry. She would see them on Monday. What she hadn’t accounted for was the stupid drunk man to be in the darkly lit hallway leading to the bathrooms when she exited. “Hello, again.”

Shit.

“Hi,” she said gently. She sounded a lot braver than she was. There was no one in sight at all.

“I wanted to tell you how pretty you were earlier.”

“You did.”

“Well, I wanted to tell you again.”

“Thank you,” she said and stepped forward to brush past him. He grabbed her arm. She felt her fight or flight kick in and she desperately wanted to fly. “Excuse me, I’m leaving. I’m expected home soon—”

“Can’t you come home with me?” He asked with a sick smirk on his face.

She shook her head. “Let go of me,” she said firmly.

“Come on, I can make it worth your while,” he pulled her arm hard making the space between them almost disappear. She didn’t like how small she felt. She hated that about her job. She was constantly made to feel small because she was a woman. His height didn’t help. Neither did the alcohol.

But right now, it was a hundred times worse, and it made her stomach churn. She wanted to throw up and for a moment she thought maybe that would help her escape. “No thank you,” she said pulling harder on her arm that would surely have a bruise when she looked later.

“Well how about right here?” His smile was evil and vile. She really wanted to throw up now. Why didn’t she just go home with her friends?

With as much force as she could muster, she stomped on his inner foot, and he gasped and released her arm in shock. “Fuck!” He shouted. She hurried down the hall, tears filling her vision but somehow, he was right behind her, grabbing her arm again and pushing her against the wall causing her to yelp. “You’re going to regret that,” he snarled in her ear.

Before she had time to cry or vomit (or both) his presence was gone, and she fell to the floor at the lack of pressure against her body. She scrambled to her feet and turned to see Harry towering over the man he had clearly thrown to the ground. The panic flooding her body subsided immensely. Her heart rate was still elevated on behalf of Harry but seeing him made her feel so much safer.

“She said no,” Harry said with so much anger in his voice she was terrified. He dared one glance back at her to see her back on her feet. His eyes were furious. She had seen him argue in mock trials and even been to some of his real court dates. Harry may have disliked her for a long part of their lives, but she had never seen hatred like this.

She would have hated to be the man on the receiving end of his look. “She’s a taunting little bitch. I’ve heard the way you talk about her,” he snapped at Harry. “Leave us alone.”

“I’ve known her my whole life. She knows I don’t talk about her,” Harry said knowingly. His voice was so deep, and the intensity of his words left her woozy; she couldn’t imagine someone protecting her—least of all Harry. And his words were true of course. As much as he disliked her, no one ever had a bad thing to say about her at the hands of Harry. “I will not be leaving her alone.”

She nearly sighed with relief at his statement. He turned quickly, grabbed her hand, and pushed her in front of him as he guided them out of the hallway and out of the restaurant. There were people milling about, but it was late, and it wasn’t crowded by any means. If Harry wasn’t there, she doesn’t want to think about what would have happened. He ushered them a few paces away from the restaurant up the sidewalk.

“Are you alright?” He asked suddenly, he turned her to face him as they stood under the streetlight outside. She was shaking like she was cold, and Harry wanted to reach out and warm her. The last five minutes were catching up to her violently. “Kitten?” He almost snapped, desperate for some indication that she was okay. “Are you okay?”

She nodded then shook her head. “I-I’m fine,” she said and sniffled wiping her sleeve across her nose. “I just want to go home,” she said with an awkward laugh and then the tears started to blur her vision.

“Kitten, I’m not going to leave you alone until I see you lock your door and you’re home safely. So it’s okay to not be okay, just tell me,” again, he sounded exasperated with her.

“Yeah, no I’m okay...” she whimpered biting her lip trying to erase the thoughts from her head of the last few moments. Harry was there and she was okay. “No...no...” she shook her head as the tears steadily fell. She gasped out a strangled cry and Harry pulled her to him immediately. She was overwhelmed by a lot of things but also that he felt so safe and sturdy as he held her. His arms around her protectively, he cupped his hand on the back of her head and one arm around her waist. The sobs left her freely then.

“S’okay,” he said so gently it hurt more than anything that happened to her. Harry being so nice to her nearly wounded her. The safety of his embrace left her breathless. His thumb rubbing over her hair made her weak. “You’re safe, kitten,” he promised. “I got you.”

Harry held her hand the entire cab ride home. She sniffled and each time she did, Harry squeezed her hand reassuringly. The cab stopped outside her apartment building, and she reached for her purse for money. “Stop,” Harry said putting her hand to her side and paying the driver. Harry followed behind her while they made it up the stairs to her second-floor place. Every so often she glanced back to see if Harry was still there. “M’not going anywhere, kitten,” he promised.

She nodded, unlocked her door and pushed inside. “Can I get—”

“Just go sit down, love,” he shook his head at her. “I’ll be right in,” he said making his way for the kitchen. His voice was gentle. Like when she wasn’t feeling well, and he made her nap and eat.

She followed his direction. She felt a little out of place in her own apartment and she twiddled her fingers together as she waited in silence for Harry to come to her living room. He was there shortly, a glass of water for her. She reached out for it, but Harry noticed how her hand was still shaking. “Here,” he said bringing the cup to her lips. He gently cradled the back of her head with his other hand. She felt like a child as Harry helped her drink, but he didn’t pay any mind to the situation at all—he just didn’t want her to spill and make a mess that she would have to worry about right now. “Can I get you anything else?” He wondered. His voice was so deep and gentle in comparison to the hatred he spewed before in every word he spoke.

She shook her head, more tears filling her eyes. “Thank you,” she said gratefully.

He shook his head back at her. “Don’t,” he sighed. “I would never let anything happen to you, kitten,” he promised. Her heart fluttered, despite everything. It was by far one of the sweetest things Harry ever said to her. “I’m glad you’re home safe now. I can leave if you want—"

She was quick to protest. Too quick. “No! Please don’t,” the words rushed out of her mouth before she could stop them. She turned to look at the empty dark apartment as a distraction from her cheeks turning into two red tomatoes. She cleared her throat regaining her composure as she looked back at Harry. She was lucky the tears filled her vision again at the frustration and sadness of her evening overwhelming her again.

“I won’t go until you want me to, kitten,” Harry answered pressing his hand to her face. He brushed his thumb gently over her cheek bone and caught the stray tear that spilled over. His voice was so quiet and soft. It was so different than every interaction he ever had with her.

“Really?” She whispered breathlessly.

“No, baby,” he promised. “I won’t.”

She didn’t think and wrapped herself up in his embrace. It worked so naturally of course. His arms wrapped around her, and he tugged her carefully, so he was snuggled into the corner of her sofa with her cuddled into him. She sighed with relief as tears flowed onto his shirt and coat. She sniveled miserably. “I’ll have to get this dry cleaned for you,” she managed to mumble between her tears.

“Would you please just shut up?” The exasperation was thick in his tone. It kind of made her smile.

“Okay,” she whispered sniveling still.

After a few moments her cries subsided, and Harry let his fingers dance up and down her arm as he held her close to him. He tried not to think about how perfectly she fit in the empty spaces of his body. “Harry?” She asked quietly.

“Hmm?”

“Thank you,” she said again.

He sighed, a bit irritated that she was thanking him for being a decent human being and protecting her. But he knew she was uncomfortable and upset. “You’re welcome, kitten,” he said softly. “Go to sleep.”

“I can’t do that, Harry. His client base is too substantial.”

“Let him leave with them, then,” Harry snapped. He was pacing Louis’ office. Adamant something be done.

“Harry, stop,” Louis rubbed his hand over his face. “We can get her a restraining order if she wants, and we can put him on a different floor so he never—”

“You need to fire him,” Harry said. “Or she and I will take all our clients and leave instead,” he promised.

He stared at his friend. “Harry.”

“Louis, you fire him, or you’ll have to represent me when I kill him.”

There was a knock outside Louis’ door before the pretty girl entered, making the anger in Harry’s heart dissipate immensely. “Oh, hi Harry,” she murmured and looked at her feet nervously. “You wanted to see me, Mr. Tomlinson?” She asked softly.

Harry gazed at her so adoringly, he couldn’t stop himself. His blood was on fire the moment he saw her struggling. He never thought about murdering someone seriously in his whole life. Yet there he was—ready to kill someone on behalf of the sweet girl. “Call me Louis, love. Please.”

She nodded. “Louis, then. Am...I in trouble?” She asked curiously.

Harry sighed in exasperation and ran his hand over his face in disbelief. She stared at Harry curiously as he made his assessment. “You’re an idiot,” he said to her.

She looked at her feet, feeling her face warm at his insult. “Harold,” Louis snapped. “No love, you’re not in trouble. I wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh.”

There was a bit of silence. “Well, are you alright?” He repeated. Harry wanted to shake her a bit. She was beyond infuriatingly annoying sometimes.

“I’m okay,” she said softly. “Uh...Harry protected me.”

“Yes, he’s decent every once in a while.”

She smirked. “He is.”

“Can I do anything for you to ensure you feel safe while you’re working?”

“Oh, um...no—”

“You can fire him,” Harry repeated.

“Harry, that’s not necessary,” she shook her head, her face feeling flushed.

His right eye twitched and he looked out Louis’ window; stuffed his hands in his pockets as he muttered to himself. “I don’t want you to feel like you’re not safe while you’re here,” Louis said knowingly.

Harry wasn’t watching her, but she looked right at him as she answered Louis. “I feel safe,” she said softly.

Louis smirked and shook his head at Harry who still wasn’t paying any attention. Talk about an idiot in this scenario. “I’m very sorry that happened to you. He will be reprimanded beyond belief, you have my word. We’ll be moving his office to a different floor as well,” he promised.

“Louis, you weren’t there,” Harry reminded him. “You didn’t watch her cry while she fell asleep—”

“Harry!” She gasped at the admission and her face felt warm. That was not something she wanted her boss to know. It painted the wrong picture—even if she slept so well in the comfort of Harry’s arms. Louis didn’t pay any attention to their night spent together, though. He was keeping his eyes on Harry.

“I wanted to kill him,” Harry repeated. She gulped at the idea of Harry doing something so violent for her. Something that would get him thrown in jail for a long while.

“I understand that,” Louis said simply. “Love, I’m very sorry,” he returned his attention to the poor girl who looked wildly uncomfortable. “If there is something I can do for you, don’t hesitate to ask. I know you have Harry in the office next to you, but if he’s not around, I’d be happy to assist you with anything,” he said kindly.

“Thank you, I appreciate it,” she said courteously.

“Harold,” Louis said narrowing his eyes at him.

“Whatever,” he grumbled and stalked out of the office.

“I’m...sorry about him,” she said nervously.

“Don’t worry love, I’ve known Harry for a long while. He means well. He’s just thick headed sometimes,” he shrugged. “I’m serious though, if you need something or want something, let me know.”

“I will, thank you.”

Shaking her head, she exited his office and headed back to her own. She grabbed a cup of coffee from the breakroom as she passed it and tried to think about the to-do list she had for the day. Mentally, she added a dry-cleaner stop for Harry’s suit she cried all over as well. It wasn’t much, but it was the least she could do as a thank you for all he did. As she paced the last few steps toward her office, she tried to convince herself the last few moments in Louis’ office were real. Harry was angry at Louis (and maybe her, what else was new?) for something beyond his control. She wondered why he was so adamant but found it sweet in Harry’s own way.

She closed her office door behind her and tilted her head at Harry sitting on the couch. As she entered, he stood up and gazed at her without speaking. It looked like he was looking through her. She bit the inside of her lip as she held the coffee with both of her hands to keep her tingling fingers warm at the idea that Harry was waiting for her. “Can I help you?” She asked.

“I’m going to be a shitty boyfriend.”

She blinked in complete confusion. It was by far the last thing she ever expected Harry to say. “I’m sorry?”

“I get all wrapped up in m’own stuff and I forget dates even though they’re in m’calendar and reminders and everything. It’ll infuriate you. I’ll make up for it with grand sweeping gestures that will maybe make it better, but they might just make y’madder that I can’t remember the little things.”

“Harry, what—”

“M’so in love with you and I’ve been ignoring it since we were kids. The six months I worked here without you were the longest months ’ve gone without seeing you and I didn’t even want t’see you, but I don’t want to go that long without seeing you ever again. I barely want t’go an hour without seeing you and even when I do I think about you the whole time,” he started to pace across her office back and forth as if was retracing his steps to remember all the things he was saying. Like they were written on the carpet.

“Can you just—”

“I’ll be better than that tool y’dated in third year,” she wondered where that came from because she didn’t even know he knew she was dating someone. “I’ll give you everything y’want or need whenever you ask. I’ll plan dates, I’ll take y’anywhere you want t’go, I’ll walk on hot coals for you, if you ask. I love you so goddamn much, love. I want to murder someone for you, and I wouldn’t bat an eyelash; ’ve never felt this way ‘bout anyone before. You’re infuriatingly sweet and y’never know when t’shut up or what’s good for you. It’s probably going t’get y’killed one day and I don’t know how someone s’sweet could be a corporate lawyer. You’re unbelievably challenging in so many ways and y’always remind me that I don’t know everything even though I think I do. Mum and Gemma want me t’bring you t'Sunday dinners.”

She shook her head trying to process all of this it didn’t help that he was jumping from topic to topic. Harry had given speeches in college before. She listened to many of his own closing arguments and of course read countless persuasive essays. This wasn’t anything like any of that. This was wild and out of sorts. She wondered what was flowing in his head and why it was spewing out like this, why it was happening now. “Harry, what are you—”

“You asked me t’be friends because you thought we’d be good friends since we spent all that time together. Quite frankly you’re m’best friend. Even though I was miserable towards you all the time. I don’t know why I did that t’you and s’jus’ another reason you should tell me t’take a hike. No one knows me as well as you do. Sleeping with you on your couch made m’neck so sore I can’t turn it to the left, but it was the best sleep of m’life and I want t’do it over and over again if I can hold you.”

That made her face flood with heat so quickly she was sure she looked bright red. “Harry, honestly, I’m—”

“I will never hurt you and I will never let anyone hurt you while m’around.” This time she didn’t interrupt him she could feel her face soften at his words and she felt like she was going to cry if he talked any longer. “I don’t think I know anyone half s’beautiful as you, kitten, inside or out,” he said softly. Everything else he said felt like a sprint. A rush of words he had been dying to get out for who knows how long. “Please, be my girlfriend,” he said finally, slowly at last.

They stared at each other silently for several moments.

“Yes,” she whispered.

“Thank you.”

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vintagetvstars · 1 month

Text

Terry Jones Vs. Alan Alda

Propaganda

Terry Jones - (Monty Python's Flying Circus, Do Not Adjust Your Set) - I wish I could tell you all in a few sentences just how handsome, funny, intelligent, kind and soft-spoken Terry Jones was. How passionate he was about the things he loved, lacing his interests (like e.g. history) throughout all the projects he was working on. How he was supposedly always laughing and giggling when writing and reading out sketches. How he admired the art of silent movies/Buster Keaton and was obsessed with writing poems as a child. How he was described as a wonderful friend and a little as if he carried his own world around with him. But there is simply too much to tell and I adore him too much to pick the best facts, so this will have to do

Alan Alda - (M*A*S*H) - He is both the saddest wettest little meow meow and your kindly grandfather and your favourite eccentric uncle (mom's side). Somehow it works. Passionate Democrat, feminist, great writer, he and his books are hilarious. Did a cartwheel when he won an Emmy! How he met his wife is the best meet cute of the last two centuries, and they've now been married over 60 years!!!

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Additional propaganda below the cut

Alan Alda:

he’s just so good in MASH

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he put so much bisexuality into hawkeye i think it fundamentally changed me when i was little and watching mash for the first time. anyway do we all know the story about how he met his wife when they were at a party together and they were the only two people eating the cake that fell on the floor and he fell in love with her over her laugh. i just think hes neat :) i love when theres a strange looking man. also feel it necessary to say that the guy that wrote the book mash was based on wrote himself as hawkeye and HATED alda's hawkeye bc he displayed his morals too much (alda had it in his contract for the show that every episode had to have an operating room scene bc otherwise you arent backdropping the fact that war is Not fun. actually. he almost didnt take the role bc he thought a war comedy would make too much light of the horrors)

please please please use this picture of him, he's so hot in it

His comedic delivery in MASH...

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The story of how he met his wife is charming and sweet, and they've now been married 65 years

Just look at him. He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen but also he's completely average. He's got a weak jawlines and a round face and these big soft eyes and he's just so beautiful. He's capable of playing a silly charismatic sitcom protagonist in one scene, and a jaded army surgeon haunted by the deaths he's witnessed in the next. He's so hot that my dad once told me he decided to apply to medical school because of how much he was attracted to Hawkeye Pierce. That's literally how I learned that my father was bisexual.

He's also just a really great dude? He's been outspoken about his political beliefs for a long time, and has always been strongly and vocally anti-war, pro-feminist, and pro lgbt. He served a tour in the Korean war, and his experiences there informed his performance in the show. He (and honestly the entire cast, but especially him) really just soared above and beyond the standard for comedies of the day.

youtube

He's so funny and his eyes are pretty

He loves and is a champion of science (Source).

#vintage tv stars poll #tv men 1 #terry jones #alan alda #Youtube

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skinnypaleangryperson · 8 months

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My heart is broken over this gray world and this life dedicated to slavery by selfish people who are just playing sheep differently taking control of me and paying me so little that I can't even have a decent personal life to make up for crushed creative dreams. I hurt myself with my own imagination and how vivid it is, the TV shows that I would have liked to work on an extended with my passion and ideas, the artistry the lights, the emotion the storytelling, the storyboards and the artistic lighting that I work on every day simply because it's all that makes sense to me. These images, thoughts, storytelling, emotions, everything where I pour all of my desperation of what I wish the humanity and connection that my life would have into a couple of iPad drawings every day in the corner of an empty bedroom.

It comes across as melodramatic posting about it online, but if you were to live a day in my life with having nothing except for my raw isolated imagination in such a repetitive, soulless, compassionless gray world, where I have no connection to anyone anymore, and no one that I can share anything with and convinced I will never have a true friendship or relationship with anyone outside of baseline tolerance at best again, on top of failed motherhood and a failed creative career, you would be crying out on the internet every second you got the chance to. I haven't wanted to live this life for the longest time that I could remember, and I will never want to again. In a sense, thank God nobody cares and that I can just post about it at whatever whim that I want throughout the miserable day, because this is the only place left where I can still feel somewhat human, and where I can just be as unashamedly detailed about every single depressed and morbidly despairing thought, share some of my work, even if it's only to myself just to prove that it even exists outside of my own sick corner of the world, and generally to feel seen for a little while, Even if only by myself, which is what me and the majority of people in working class America have, with no way out, because we're not "special", And if you have an artistic vision it will break your heart more than anything else.

I especially love this scene that I came up with it during my on maladaptive daydreaming lately with my family with BoJack and Samantha and Harper. The storylines that I come up with his family and with our girls are always incredibly vivid every single day and they both still simultaneously break my heart, because I know that the vision that I share in the passion that I have and my want to share in storytelling will only ever be an ongoing sickly headspace in the back of my head while the gray reality of a life that has long since over if it ever began goes on around me without change. The beauty of the family life that I wanted to have on top of the creative dreams that I have that has projected itself into the muddled mental disorder of maladaptive daydreaming of my beautiful family with Bojack both is the only thing that keeps me going throughout the empty slave hours of my life, which is so lonely that most people I'm convinced would not be able to live it, well at the same time fills me with such a beauty and meaning taking it in that I couldn't ever let it go.

#bojack #maladaptive daydreaming #🫡#Lost my mind #I mostly just use social media to grieve these days while I continue to live the graveyard of my life in reality #My life failed beyond comprehension in every possible way

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junkdrawerfics · 1 year

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Swan Sisters (Part 4)

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3

Bella and Sister!Reader

Summary: You get dragged into dress shopping in Port Angeles with the girls, which turns out to be a good thing considering Bella is a magnet for danger! Jasper is not in this one cause it got too long!

Word Count: 3534

Warnings: some violence (self defense) and allusion to/attempted assault (Port Angeles scene) also possibly horrid writing, I've been up for 24 hours!

---

“How was the beach?”

You meet Bella at the door, fluttering around her hectically as she toes her boots off and shakes stray droplets from her coat. She hits you with a look, the ‘calm down before I walk right back out of here’ look. Smiling apologetically, you back off a few paces, though you can’t stop the habitual leg bouncing.

She obviously had something planned last night, when you talked about La Push. Waiting is not exactly your forte these days. After wasting a couple hours working, you called Alice, who hadn’t seen anything, a common occurrence when the wolves are involved somehow. So wait you did, not that it was easy. The living room is in a completely different arrangement than it was this morning.

“It was fine. It rained a bit, but everyone seemed to have fun. I think I convinced Angella to ask Eric out,” she recounts once she hangs up her coat and starts towards the living room.

“Really? Angella and Eric? Huh.” You never thought of that, but they do seem like a perfect pair. Eric’s not too crazy and Ang- Wait, she’s trying to distract you! Focusing back in you, you prod a little further, “Besides that, did anything happen? Any coincidental Jacob appearances?”

‘Coincidental’ because you know of Jacob’s little crush on your sister. If he heard about Forks kids showing up on the reservation, he’d probably show up out of pure curiosity.

“Yup.”

Hm, the shut out approach. Smart. Unfortunately for her, you are now undying, which means an eternal amount of stubborn snooping.

“How’s he?”

“Fine, Billy’s good too.”

“That’s nice.” You give her just enough time to sit down and reach for the tv remote before plopping down next to her, your next question spilling out, “What did you guys talk about?”

Bella rolls her eyes, “Are we playing twenty questions?”

“Until I figure out what you were planning last night before dad came in,” you reply, just as snarkily, “So?”

“Fine,” she huffs, “I got him to tell me about the legend behind why they don’t like the Cullens. Happy?”

“How’d you do that?” This question is just for fun.

A lot of fun, considering Bella goes positively red, pursing her lips in discomfort.

“I might have…flirted with him,” she mumbles, scratching the back of her neck.

Oh the poor boy. Being exposed to that so young, he’ll never be the same. And to think, Bella can actually successfully flirt! You can’t stop yourself from snickering, which makes Bella look even more miserable.

“It’s alright, Bells.” You try to reassure her, but there’s no hiding the amusement in your voice, and she just glares at you. “Sometimes you just have to use your feminine wiles to get your way, you know?”

She groans, head dropping into her hands. Her voice comes out muffled when she growls, “I hate you so much.”

The laugh you let out is truly a cackle, completely evil in intent, “You could never.”

“I am this close.” She holds out her fingers, except they are pressed firmly together, which just makes you laugh harder.

It takes a moment for you to calm down again. It’s a good thing you don’t need air, otherwise you’d be gasping, ribs aching. But now you can laugh as much as you want, as long as you want. A weird perk, but one you enjoy.

“So,” you start again, wiping a nonexistent tear from your eye, “What did you learn?”

Bella shifts, just enough to cast you a sidelong glance. Her eyes, thoughtful, calculating, seem to look straight through you as she considers her words carefully. You wish she would just spit it out, but it’s not too hard to guess what she might be thinking.

“He said that the Cullens are some enemy clan, and that they have some treaty with the Quileutes that keep them off the reservation,” she finally explains, though her tone is clipped.

“An enemy clan, huh?”

That makes sense. You get the feeling that there’s more to what Jacob said, something about what you are, but you don’t press further. Whether she figures it out or not, you’re not too worried anymore. Alice’s visions always come true, and your stubbornness alone will deter the more gruesome ending.

You look at her face. There’s no fear in her expression as she meets your gaze. So maybe he didn’t say too much. But there’s still something. She has to know something. You catch yourself, humming at the realization that you want her to know something.

Maybe the quicker she figures it out, the quicker that future will come true.

You give her knee a soft squeeze and push yourself back to your feet, “Whelp, I’m glad you had fun, Bells. You should talk to Jacob more often, he’s a smart kid.”

Her brow furrows, confusion flooding her face at your conspiratorial grin. With a quick wink, you dart upstairs, leaving Bella positively bewildered much to your own amusement.

---

Not much changes the days following the conversation. The weather gets a little sunnier, meaning the Cullens don’t go to school and you get a few off days with Jasper. Bella doesn’t mention their absence, much to your surprise.

It’s almost like things are normal for a little bit.

She even invites you to Port Angeles for prom dress shopping, which prompted the question-

“You’re going to prom?!”

And the subsequent answer.

“No.” Said with such disdain, you let it drop immediately.

Even so, that’s how you find yourself here, watching Angela and Jessica try on dresses while Bella stares out the window, lost in thought. It’s a good thing that you know the girls from your time in Forks High, otherwise this would be so awkward.

Maybe that’s why she just invited you, to spare herself the pain of doing it alone.

“I like that one on you, Ang,” you chirp, “Lavender is totally your color.”

“Yah?” She smiles meekly, looking down at herself.

“Totally! Don’t you think Bella?” You give your sister a hard elbow to the ribs, making her jump and glare at you before turning to her friend.

“Definitely, Angela, you look beautiful.” At least she’s trying.

The two more normal girls go back to fussing over their dresses. Watching them gives you a dull sense of nostalgia. It’s been so long since you’ve done something like this with humans. Since you’ve been able to.

“So, (Y/n), are you still dating Jasper Hale?” Jessica suddenly pipes up, eyeing you with poorly hidden jealousy.

Ah, that, you haven’t missed. Out of the corner of your eye, you catch Bella smothering a smug smile. Karma.

“I am,” you reply shortly.

“Is that weird?” She presses as she stares at herself in the mirror, messing with a pair of white gloves. “Ya know, since you graduated and he’s still in school?”

“No. I skipped a grade, so we’re about the same age.” Not even close, technically, but appearance wise it is.

“Still-”

Thankfully, or unfortunately, she’s cut off by a sudden knock on the window. A group of men walk by, whooping and catcalling. Angela and Jessica flinch and shuffle away from the glass, faces twisting with discomfort. You frown, a sudden flare of anger flushes through you.

You jump in front of the girls, flipping the bird at the men as you bark a low, “Piss off!”

It doesn’t do much to damper their attitudes, since they’re probably too buzzed to notice the typically unnerving edge you carry as a vampire. Anger simmers low and hot in your gut. What happened to common decency?

“That is uncomfortable,” Jessica mumbles.

“But really cool, of you, (Y/n),” Angela murmurs, voice touched with awe, “Thanks.”

“Oh please, it’s only decent,” you grumble and slump back into your seat, “I can’t believe that.”

You’re tempted to go rip their heads off, but that wouldn’t look too good.

“It’s disgusting,” Bella agrees, looking just as frustrated.

You fall into a tense silence. It’s tense to you at least, but that’s probably because you’re watching the window like a hawk, as if they’ll come back at any moment. For their sake, you hope they don’t. Their death would not be pleasant. No, you’d make sure-

“What do you think of this one, Bella?”

Oh right, dress shopping. Probably not the best time to get swept up in murderous thoughts.

“It looks great.”

You snort. Is it possible to sound less enthusiastic?

“You’ve said that about, like, the last five dresses,” Jessica says with a grimace-like smile.

Bella shrugs, “I thought they were all pretty great.”

Angela, who’s observant nature rivals even Edward’s, picks up on her reluctance easily, “You’re not really into this, are you?”

“I actually just really wanted to go to this bookstore.”

You perk up a little in interest, eyeing your sister, “A bookstore?”

She noticably avoids your stare as she nods. Curious. Maybe something to do with her talk with Jacob?

“Well let’s go to this bookstore of yours then! We’ll catch you girls at the restaurant?” A charismatic smile and they agree easily. You tug Bella up by her arm, though she quickly jostles out of your grip with a soft glare.

“You don’t have to come,” she grumbles.

“Hmmm, stay here dress shopping for a prom I’m not going to or accompany my twig-like sister around a dangerous town?” You pretend to mull it over, rubbing your chin theatrically, and Bella rolls her eyes. “I’m afraid I’ll have to go with the ladder. For your safety, of course.”

“I can hold my own.”

Swan stubbornness.

“A gust of wind could knock you over, Bells. Or worse, a nice patch of wet concrete.”

No need to remind her of all the times you’ve watched her trip on nothing. The girl was frightfully uncoordinated. Plus, you’d heard word of some strange “animal” attacks nearby. It’s safer if you’re with her.

Though the trip turns out to be mostly uneventful. You walk to a small store, Thunderbird and Whale Bookstore, who’s clerk gives you a weird look as you puruse the indigenous literature. Not completely abnormal, given your appearance. Just abnormal enough to make you wonder, not too abnormal that people ask. But the legends of their people definitely make you more conscious of your human habits.

Breathe. In. Out. Blink. Shuffle.

Until he focuses on Bella as she comes up to him with a book.

You peer over her shoulder at the cover. Quileute Legends. Seems you right.

She shifts, blocking your sight as she tucks the book to her chest. With a quick thank you and goodbye, you’re back on the street. The restaurant shouldn’t be too far.

“So…Quileute legends?”

“Yep.”

You huff, “You’re so boring sometimes, Bella.”

She meets you tick for tick, “You’re so annoying sometimes, (N/n).”

Unconsciously, you catch the sound of heavy footsteps down a nearby road.

“That’s my job,” you chirp, slinging an arm over her shoulders, to draw her close, just to be careful.

“I thought you’re job was to teach me about makeup and boys and all that,” she snorts back.

The footsteps get louder.

Pretending to be playful, you pull her hood up, synching it over part of her face, “What do you want to know, hm?”

Bella looks at you, glare equal parts amused and irritated, until she catches the faintest glimmer of unease in your eyes. You smile, but it’s forced, too stiff, unnarturally sharp. She grip the book closer to her chest. As you push her into an alley, she catches sight of the two men walking where you had.

And they catch sight of the two of you. A glint sparks in their eyes. An all too familiar one. The hunt has begun.

“Keep walking, Bells, please.” You urge, voice tight.

Their gaze burns on the back of your neck, much like it had at the dress store, dripping with hunger. It brings back every memory of walking through Port Angeles alone. The fear, gripping your mace with white fingers, keys held like claws in your other hand. All because men like them think they are entitled to touch touch touch-

Rage simmers up your throat.

Any other day you could show them what that fear is like. How it feels to be hunted. But you’re too aware of Bella tucked under your arm, one hand curling around your wrist so tight, it would break if you weren’t made of marble. She would see. As much as you want her to know, this is not how you want her to figure it out.

So you clamp down on the rage. Dismembering them might not be the best solution anyways.

Though it sounds more appealing as you step out of the alley and watch the last of the drunken men slither out from the shadows. Disgusting snakes. They were waiting for you.

“Hey, where you running to?”

“There they are.”

Bella flinches, and you envision their blood spilled over the pavement, fizzling alongside their beer. Something inside you craves it, longs to see these men wounded in the same way they hurt young women. But you keep it locked down. Not yet. Not unless it’s necessary, you snarl to yourself.

“Stay close to me, Bella,” you murmur, arm like a metal guard around her shaking, frail shoulders.

The girl merely nods. Her eyes are wide, unblinking, like a china doll.

You will protect her. At all costs.

Head kepts low, you try to force yourself forward, through the men, but they close in like vultures around you.

“Woah, woah, woah, where are you going?”

“Yah, why don’t you hang out with us?” They chorus in agreement.

Your eyes dart around, looking for any way to escape. There’s maybe ten men, and you feel your throat tighten with each step they take towards you. With each step, Bella’s heartrate spikes, panic flickering over her features. You pull her impossibly closer.

You go rigid when a scorchingly hot, sweaty hand gropes your butt. Snarling, you slap it away, disgust burning a pit in your gut.

“Don’t you dare touch me,” you warn, though your eyes flicker between their identical, sickening smirks, unable to tell who did it. If Jasper were here, they’d all die for it. They still might.

“Oh, she doesn’t like that.”

“Feisty one, eh?”

“What about this one?”

Everything slows down for just a split second.

Another reaching hand, palm covered in sweat and beer, nails rimmed with dirt, skin smudged with oil. Ready to touch. Ready to take whatever it wants. Reaching for your sister.

Fast - too fast - you block his way. Bella gasps almost inaudibly behind you, but you’re too distracted as you catch the man’s wrist. His face goes stark white at your crushing grip, and it’s like the clouds clearing, his eyes setting on you for the first, real time. The fear glinting in their depths gives you a sick sense of satisfaction.

“Keep your disgusting, filthy hands off my sister,” you hiss slowly and give his wrist a deft twist.

The satisfying pop paired with his pained yelp is music to your ears.

Alongside the sound of screeching tires.

Edward.

Bella barely has time to breathe as you shove her towards the Volvo as it skids to a stop, barely catches the imperseptible nod you give Edward as he steps out. Ignoring her sputtering, you push her into the front seat.

“What the h-”

“Just stay put,” you grumble and slide into the backseat.

You don’t watch as Edward approaches the men. You don’t care to see their faces again. If you do, you just might turn around and break the remaining wrists. Maybe that would keep them from laying their hands on any innocents again.

Eyes flickering shut, you let every muscle in your body go still. It helps somehow, like you’re resetting. You focus on the sound of Bella’s breathing, how it slows down, and how her heart eventually returns to a normal rhythm.

It picks up a fraction when Edward slips back in, slamming his door hard enough to make the car shake.

“Hold on tight,” you whisper, mostly to yourself.

Bella turns to look at you, but gasps and clutches at her armrests when Edward whips right out of the lot. The man drives like usual, like he’s trying escape the depths of hell. This time, you don’t give him grief for it though.

“I should go back and rip their heads off,” Edward snarls, fingers going somehow paler around the steering wheel.

“No. Bad idea-”

“Sounds good to me-”

Bella shoots you a glare. With an unapologetic shrug, you turn to watch the trees race by. They might not have hurt the two of you, but there’s no doubt in your mind that they’ve done the same thing to some other poor soul. They deserve to rot.

“You don’t know the vile things they were thinking.”

You resist the urge to slap your forehead. Or him.

“And you do?” Bella’s brow furrows.

Cover it up, cover it up, you idiot.

“Not hard to guess.”

Better than that, Edward.

The glare he sends you through the rearview mirror is remarkably similar to your sister’s. They really will make a lovely match. Good thing they can’t have kids, what with the amount of disapproval they can put together.

“Good thing you were visiting Port Angeles, huh Edward?” You tease with a lecherous grin pointed right back at him.

“You were just…visiting.” Bella’s voice rings with suspicioun.

Edward grinds his teeth, “Yup. Visiting.”

The word is slowly losing all meaning.

You settle back into your seat as an awkward silence fills the cabin. If you didn’t know better, you would think Edward was just another inexperienced teenager, new to the whole love thing. Though, he still looks ready to murder those guys, based on his black glare barely focused on the road.

Remembering them brings back a new feeling. Not fear, but a remanent, the faintest lingering of anxiety that makes you grit your teeth. Dread maybe, because you can’t help but wonder - what if it happened a year ago? It’s pointless, you know, but there’s no banishing the images that come to mind.

Something hollow opens in your chest as you shake your head, as if that will dislodge them.

Edward glances back at you again. His gold eyes crease with concern, but ignoring him seems better than admitting to something so stupid. You’re a vampire now, nothing like that will happen. Instead, you let thoughts of Jasper fill your mind. His smile. His eyes. Anything to keep you distracted until you’re in his arms.

Bella must tell Edward where to go, because the next thing you know, you’re pulling up to the restaurant you were meant to meet Jessica and Angela at. They are barely walking out the door as you park. Bella jumps out, probably to greet them, and Edward goes to follow, but you stop him with a hand on his elbow. Gold eyes flash back to meet yours, still concerned and questioning.

“Thank you,” you all but whisper, squeezing his elbow gently.

His features soften, a small, genuine smile flashing over his lips, “Go. I’ll take care of Bella. Alice told Jasper about tonight, he needs you just as much right now.”

Those words wash over you like a warm tide. Somehow, the thought of Jasper in a rage over your safety, despite you being almost stronger than him now, makes you feel a little better. His protectiveness almost matches your own, though yours spans to practically everyone around you.

Speaking of.

You slip out of the car and give Bella one last once over. She looks…okay. No bruises. No lingering fear. Like it never happened. Satisfied, you nod to yourself and pull her into a tight, almost crushing hug. She jumps, wheezing out a soft laugh.

“I’m fine, (Y/n).”

“I know, I know. Just, stay with Eddie, okay? He’ll get you food and take you home.”

Bella frowns, “Where are you going?”

“To see Jasper.” You offer her a guilty smile, though she nods her understanding. “Eddie called him right before he got to us, so he’s freaking out a little.” Another nod. “Love you, Bells.”

“Love you, too.”

One last squeeze and you pull away, offering the two other girls a short wave, “Night girls, get home safe, alright?”

“You too, (Y/n)!”

“It was nice seeing you again.”

As you turn to leave, you hear Bella flip on her heels, laughter in her voice, “Eddie?”

Edward’s following groan casts off the last of your dark clouds. You’ll pay for that somehow, you’re sure, but it’ll be totally worth the pure enjoyment it brings you. He hates it when you call him that. Almost as much as Bella hates it when you call her Tinkerbell. Another match.

The silver lining of this all is that you have a convenient reason to leave them alone together.

And based on the events of the night, Bella will probably have more questions than Edward can answer without lying. Plus the book. Everything’s lining up, it’ll just depend on how much Edward outs himself!

---

Part 5 (ending)

I hope y'all enjoyed! The next part will likely be the last! And sorry if you missed Jasper in this part :( I try to keep my stories to below 4k words, so I decided to keep that for the next part.

@avadakadabra93

@glaciuswduo

#x reader #reader #reader insert #jasper hale #jasper whitlock #twilight saga #twilight #swan reader #swan sisters

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scarisd3ad · 7 months

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In a world of boys, he’s a gentleman

pairing - steve harrington x fem!reader

summary - "But if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us and if they call me a slut, you know it might be worth it for once, and if I'm gonna be drunk might as well be drunk in love."

(A/N) - happy kind of late Valentine's Day lol, but here is a cute little fic based off of my favorite 1989 tv vault track.

Warnings - slut shaming, cursing, drinking

Masterlist

"Are you sure? I know you don't really like these kinds of things anymore," I say with a sigh. Steve and I are parked out in front of some random junior's house. Ever since Steve had graduated this May, he wasn't really in the party scene anymore. It might have been just because he was always busy working, or with the kids though, or maybe he wanted to leave his high school self behind. I was a year younger than Steve so I still being in high school wanted to party my senior year away before subsequently going to college next August.

I wanted him here for some type of protection from the men who frequented these parties. When I didn't have someone, I could claim as my 'boyfriend' they'd have their grimy little hands all over me. Luckily, this time I had my actual boyfriend. "it's fine," he whispers, grabbing my hand and giving it a little squeeze before removing the keys from the ignition and getting out of the car.

As we walk up to the front door, I can feel the chill in the air seeping through the thin fabric of the dress I'm wearing. The dress, which I thought would be perfect for the occasion, now seems like a poor choice, given the unforgiving October winds. I shiver uncontrollably as a strong gust of wind blows past us, sending my hair flying in all directions. The coldness of the wind is so biting that I almost regret leaving the house without a jacket.

Steve reaches out and grabs my hand as he pushes the front door open. As we approached the house, the booming sound of music and the constant buzz of voices could be heard from the outside. I could feel the beat of the music reverberating through my body as I made my way to the door. However, as soon as the door opened, the volume seemed to increase tenfold, making it difficult to hear anything else. The house was alive with energy, pulsing with the rhythm of the music and the excitement of the people inside.

The house seemed to be getting more and more crowded as we made our way further into the house. As we ventured deeper into the house, the once spacious and airy rooms gradually became cramped and stuffy. The air was thick with the scent of cheap booze, sex, and teenage sweat.

Although Steve had been gone from the hallways of Hawkins High for almost an entire semester Everyone still fawned over Steve Harrington the same way they had been for the past four years. sophomore girls, smile and wave as they send him flirty winks that are paired with a "hii Steve" which makes me roll my eyes each time, even freshman girls bat their eyelashes at him and wave shyly. god, sometimes I wished my boyfriend wasn't as popular as he was.

"Wasn't she with Eddie Munson last weekend?" I hear one girl ask as Steve and I pass by them. Luckily or unluckily, Steve stops to talk to one of his old basketball friends so I can hear the rest of their conversation. "No, no, that was the weekend before that last weekend she was with…what's his name fuck Sam…Samuel gives" The other girl, a brunette I recognized as a junior who was in p.e with me, says. The other one was a blonde that I don't particularly recognize but I knew I'd probably seen her around at least once laugh a big belly laugh before scoffing "fucking slut, didn't realize Steve was into those types of girls, especially after Nancy wheeler" it hurt but 'slut' was something most girls including me have been called more than once.

When I'm using my male friends as human shields at parties, I never thought about how other girls would think about me. It's not like I really cared anyway (I did). "Dresses like one too, who even thinks of wearing something like that" I looked down at my dress, maybe it was a little over the top, but there were other girls here dressed similarly in tiny dresses that barely covered their asses, most were shorter than mine. So why was I getting judged for my dress when Heather Blake was in the tiniest red dress I've ever seen as she was grinding up against Daren Russel?

"When I was getting dressed earlier, I thought the dress looked cute. It was smaller than what I usually wear, and I was a bit scared that I might draw more attention to myself than I'd like. But I thought, "if I'm all dressed up, they might as well be looking at us". But now, after being called a slut, I was rethinking that mindset. "Hey Stevie, I'm gonna go get a drink kay?" he nods. "Yeah hon, can you get me a beer?" I hum quietly as I nod before walking off towards the kitchen.

There are a few girls, freshmen, who are taking shot after shot. Their boyfriends must have been seniors because normally freshmen aren't invited to parties like this. "Hey, can I have some of that?" I ask. All three girls are hammered, slurring out their words and stumbling around, "Y-yeahhh girl hereeee!" one shouts over the music as she hands me a prefilled disposable shot glass. The liquid inside is clear, making me assume it's vodka. I might as well be drunk if I was going to be overthinking those girls' conversation the entire night. I lean my head back as I take the shot, letting it burn down the back of my throat.

The three girls are giggling as the middle one, who is way smaller than me in height and weight, boldy downs two shots in a row before shouting "Wooooo!!!" which makes me internally cringe for her. "Hey, can I have another?"

7 shots in and I'm drunk as a motherfucker. The three girls had since gone, mumbling a quiet excuse about how all three of their mothers were going to be pissed in. They didn't get the littlest sobered up fast. So that left me with about half a bottle of vodka.

"Hey baby, thought you were bringing me a beer" Two familiar arms wrap around my torso which makes me drunkenly smile and turn around in his arms. "I wa-wasss," I slurred as I leaned my head against his shoulder, "but got distr-distracted," I said with a giggle. Steve sighs softly as he takes my face in his hands "You're drunk honey" I roll my eyes playfully giggling a quiet "duhhh" his thumb caresses my cheek as his eyes fall behind me at the empty shot glasses and now about quarter-filled vodka bottle. "Shit, honey, how much was in that bottle? " I shrugged as I watched the two girls who had been talking about me earlier walk into the kitchen, both giggling as they looked me up and down.

I frown as I look up into his big brown eyes, which are filled with concern. "Am I a slut?" I whispered softly. Despite my best efforts to not let those girls' words get to me; they had been unknowingly eating away at me all night. "What? who…who told you that? Why the fu-" I shrug as my bottom lip pops out in a pout. "Honey, you're not a slut. And if you were, I wouldn't care because as long as you're my girl, I'll be the happiest man alive. " If I'm gonna be drunk, might as well be drunk in love.

#fanfics #x reader #stranger things #steve harrington x reader #fem!reader #joe keery #steve harrington #female!reader #steve harrington fanfiction #steve harrington x female!reader #stranger things x reader #x female!reader

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bloody-bee-tea · 6 months

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IntiMarch 2024 Day 30 - Only you

The prompt for this was "What is love to you?"

Satoru sits on the ground in Suguru’s room, right in front of the bed, with Suguru stretched out behind him, a book in his hand despite the TV that’s running. Satoru knows that Suguru is not paying attention to the show at all, but he doesn’t mind.

It just gives him more opportunity to retell everything later.

Currently, there’s a big love confession happening on screen, dramatic music, tears and all and Satoru is mildly befuddled.

He understands what’s happening, has seen it build up and unfurl now over several episodes but he doesn’t get it.

Satoru has never felt the kind of love that depicted in the show and he wonders if it’s a normal thing, or if he’s lacking in some way.

His eyes stray over to Suguru and he feels warm all over when he spots him deeply engrossed in his book, tongue peeking out a little bit behind his lips as his eyes roam over the page. According to the show—and every book and article Satoru has consumed on the matter—his heart should be beating heavily in his chest and he should be overcome with longing.

But all he feels is right, as if his place was ever meant to be right here, on the ground in Suguru’s room, and Satoru doesn’t know if that’s enough.

And he certainly doesn’t know if Suguru feels anything besides friendship towards him either, which is actually the scarier part of all of this.

Satoru knows he wants to spend every minute of his life together with Suguru, no matter in what capacity, but he has no clue if Suguru feels the same or if things are different for him.

“You’ve been staring at me for at least three minutes now,” Suguru suddenly says, lowering his book and his eyes finding Satoru’s. “What’s up?”

“What is love to you?” Satoru blurts out and he can tell that he caught Suguru off guard with his question, because his brow furrows.

“Where is this coming from?” Suguru wants to know and Satoru hopes he doesn’t blush, hopes that Suguru can’t read the thoughts right off his face.

He points at the TV, unsure if they are even still in the same scene. They must be, because Suguru’s eyes widen in understanding.

“I see,” he whispers and closes his book, sitting up and giving Satoru his whole attention.

It’s a heady feeling and Satoru isn’t sure he’ll ever get enough of it. He wishes Suguru would only ever look at him, and that must be love, too, right?

“What do you want to know?” Suguru asks and Satoru shrugs.

“I just—I don’t think I get it,” Satoru admits and doesn’t dare to look at Suguru. “I want to know what you think love is. What is it to you?”

“Mh,” Suguru hums in thought, clearly thinking his answer over. “It’s warm, soft and comfortable. It’s sharing a meal and laughing together. It’s to know and to be known, having your secrets and weaknesses revealed and yet trusting that they will never be used against you. It’s being together without doing anything. It’s understanding each other without ever having to speak. It’s knowing each other in a way you previously only ever knew yourself and it’s being more comfortable with that person around than alone. It’s being honest, even about the hard stuff, about the painful stuff and knowing that you’ll be understood, no matter what.”

Suguru’s voice is soft and his words bring tears to Satoru’s eyes and he doesn’t even know why.

“I see,” he whispers when Suguru falls silent and he tries not to think too much about the hollow feeling in his chest.

“Does that answer your question?” Suguru wants to know and Satoru nods.

“Yeah,” he gives back and hopes Suguru drops the topic now, not even knowing why he’s suddenly so uncomfortable.

“You good?” Suguru prods his head and Satoru slaps his hand away, glaring up at him.

“I told you not to do that,” he snaps and Suguru huffs out a laugh.

“And yet your head is always in prodding distance,” he easily gives back and leans back against the headrest, picking up his book again. “Now, if you don’t have any other questions, I’d like to go back to my reading.”

“Sure,” Satoru whispers, tugging his legs up and crossing his arms over his knees. “Have fun,” he adds, though Suguru is no longer listening and Satoru is not sure he even heard him over the TV.

The episode is still going, but Satoru can no longer pay attention. It feels as if Suguru’s words have burned themselves into Satoru’s brain and he doesn’t understand why they make his heart hurt so much.

He buries his face in his arms with a sigh and repeats Suguru’s words again and again and again, hoping to figure out just what is so bothersome about them.

It isn’t until the TV show changed to a movie and then another, until Suguru is fast asleep behind him, book sliding off his chest where it dropped after Suguru nodded off that Satoru realises it.

What Suguru described is nothing like what Satoru and he have.

And that thought hurts more than Satoru was prepared for.

~*~*~

It’s been a week since he stupidly asked Suguru about his idea of love and Satoru can’t stop thinking about it. By now he’s reasonably sure that he is in love with Suguru and he realises that he wants exactly what Suguru described, but only with him.

He only wants all those things with Suguru and the fact that he can’t have that because they are nothing like that is eating away at him bit by bit.

It’s bad enough that Satoru tries to change; himself and how he acts with Suguru. Maybe if he’s more attentive, less talkative and a bit softer with him Suguru will eventually fall in love with him.

“Here,” he says over dinner, and shoves half of his food at Suguru, because he’s supposed to share his meal with him. That’s something Suguru specifically mentioned so Satoru will do it.

He did not expect Suguru to slowly lower his chopsticks and gives Satoru a concerned look.

“Are you alright?” Suguru asks, not taking the offered food and Satoru squirms in his seat.

“Why wouldn’t I be?” he gives back and startles when Suguru’s hand comes up to press against his forehead.

“You don’t feel as if you have a fever,” Suguru mutters and then, louder: “Do you feel sick at all? Stomach ache? Sniffles?”

“What—no, Suguru, I feel fine,” Satoru protests but still, Suguru continues to look at him with that same concerned look.

“Are you sure? You never share your food, you always gobble it up without a chance to even taste it and then you steal mine. So if you offer to give me your food then something must be wrong. What is it?”

“It’s nothing,” Satoru grumbles, and takes his food back. “Never mind, I was just trying to be nice,” he says under his breath and Suguru chuckles.

“Makes it even more suspicious,” he shoots back but he also nudges Satoru’s foot with his, making his words sting less. “You’d tell me if something was up though, right?” Suguru still asks and Satoru can hear the real worry in his voice so he hangs his head.

“Yeah, of course I would,” he says, even though it’s a big, fat lie.

Something is up, and he’s not telling Suguru about it.

He supposes he’ll have to live with that kind of guilt for now, he thinks when Suguru gives him a bright smile.

~*~*~

Satoru knows he’s loud and annoying and too much for most people to take. It would make sense, he thinks, if everyone thinks the same of love as Suguru does, because he mentioned that understanding each other without having to talk is part of it.

But that requires actually being quiet some of the time and that is most definitely not something Satoru has been able to do.

Until now.

Right now, he’s trying his best not to blurt out every inane comment that comes to his mind and he realises that he talks a lot of shit on any given day. It’s a wonder Suguru managed to endure it for so long, really, and Satoru almost feels bad about it.

He definitely feels bad enough that hardly a word passes his lips and it takes Suguru all of five minutes to stop in the middle of the sidewalk.

“What’s wrong?” Suguru asks once Satoru noticed that he’s leaving Suguru behind and he turns around with a frown.

“Huh?”

“You’re quiet. Scarily so. What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong,” Satoru grumbles out because he’s really tired of having Suguru think that something is wrong with him just because he’s a bit more considerate.

“You haven’t said a single word since we left school. Not a single word, Satoru. It makes me think the world is about to end.”

“Maybe I just don’t have anything to say,” Satoru shoots back, feeling kind of hurt that Suguru doesn’t seem to be pleased by the silence.

“Impossible. You always have stuff to say, even if it’s stupid or inane comments.”

“Ever thought that I’ve grown up and am above these things now?” Satoru huffs out.

“Not really, because that’s so not going to happen. You’ll be ninety and still talk my ear off about the stupidest shit, that’s simply not going to change.”

It makes Satoru feel warm, hearing that Suguru thinks they’ll still be together like this years from now, but it also makes him sad.

Suguru doesn’t want to be comfortable and silent with him and can’t seem to imagine them doing that even years down the line.

“I just don’t feel like talking,” Satoru finally mutters when Suguru continues to look at him and that seems to worry him more than anything else.

“Has something happened? Did I do something?” Suguru wants to know and Satoru is quick to shake his head.

After all, it’s not Suguru’s fault.

“It’s fine, I just—I just don’t feel like talking,” he repeats and Suguru steps up to him, gently bumps their shoulders together.

“Okay,” Suguru softly says. “If that changes, I’m here,” he offers and Satoru nods.

He doubts he’s ever going to tell Suguru what’s really going on, but he appreciates the offer nonetheless.

~*~*~

They are back in Suguru’s room—Satoru in front of the bed on the ground again, Suguru stretched out on the mattress—when Suguru brings it up again.

“Satoru, something is wrong with you lately. Something is bothering you,” he says and reaches out to card his hand through Satoru’s hair. “Won’t you tell me what’s going on with you?”

Satoru doesn’t want to do that, doesn’t want to do that at all, but Suguru said that being honest and not fearing the consequences is how he sees love, too.

Suguru might not love him like that but Satoru trusts that he likes him enough to not hold this against him, should he tell him what’s really going on.

Still, he has to make sure, first.

“You’re not going to be mad, okay?” Satoru says and turns his head just enough to look at him.

“Okay,” Suguru agrees after a moment and Satoru nods, though he does hesitate briefly before speaking.

No matter what Suguru promises him, this is scary.

And it also matters more than Satoru wants to admit.

“Will I ever be able to make you love me?” he asks and draws up his knees, resting his chin on them. “Is there a way for me?”

Suguru’s hand still in his hair.

“What?” he breathes out and he sounds painfully surprised more than mad, which is a good thing, Satoru guesses.

He was scared Suguru would yell at him.

“We talked about what love is to you, remember? And I’m just wondering—I know I’m nothing like what you said, that we are nothing like what you described but—could I? Change that?” he wants to know and he wasn’t prepared for the way his heart tries to beat right out of his chest in anticipation.

“Satoru, don’t be stupid,” Suguru chides him and Satoru flinches with the pain that laces through his heart at hearing those words.

So that’s Suguru’s answer then.

“I see,” Satoru mutters, before Suguru can even go on and he’s rewarded by a sharp tug on his hair.

“I was talking about us when I said all of that,” Suguru says and Satoru’s head flies around to him.

“We are not like that,” he reiterates and Suguru smiles slightly at him.

“Aren’t we?” he asks and then moves his hand to tug on Satoru’s shoulder. “Come up here, please,” he says and Satoru scrambles off the ground to carefully sit down on the edge of the bed, unsure what exactly Suguru wants from him.

But Suguru tugs him down, guides him until Satoru is stretched out next to him, their sides plastered together and Satoru’s head on his chest.

It’s a good place to be in, Satoru decides, even if he’s still so very confused.

“Suguru,” he says when Suguru stays silent for too long and Suguru huffs out a laugh.

“I’m trying to remember what exactly it is that I said,” he admits and Satoru has replayed that over and over in his mind, so it’s not hard for him to repeat Suguru’s words.

“Love to you is warm, soft and comfortable. Sharing meals, laughing together. To know and to be known, to entrust your secrets and weaknesses to someone else. Spending time together without doing anything, understanding each other without speaking. It’s knowing someone better than you know yourself, it’s being more comfortable together than alone and it’s being honest and being understood,” he sums up and he feels Suguru laugh under him.

“You really memorised that?”

“It’s—important to me,” Satoru admits.

“Why? You said you don’t understand love. Did that help?”

“Not in the way you probably think,” Satoru admits. “It only made me realise that I wanted all of what you said. I want you to have that with me. I still don’t understand how that is love to you when my idea is so different, but no matter what, I want you to love me like that.”

“What is your idea of love then?” Suguru wants to know and Satoru sighs.

“You.”

“That’s it. Just me?”

“That’s it,” Satoru agrees. “To me, love is you. And I want your idea of love to be me, too, but—I don’t know how to make myself any of what you described. I don’t like sharing my food and I’m not quiet and we never spend time together without doing anything and—”

“Don’t we?” Suguru interrupts him and starts to card his fingers through Satoru’s hair again.

Satoru wants to melt against Suguru.

“I don’t understand,” Satoru admits and Suguru cranes his head up to press a kiss to the top of his head.

“Satoru, everything I described is you. We share our every meal together, we laugh together. I know you better than I know myself, weakness and secrets included, and the same goes the other way around. We trust each other. We don’t have to talk to understand each other, and we spend time together without doing anything all the time.”

“I don’t get it,” Satoru stresses again. “I’m so loud.”

“Maybe. But never for the important stuff. You yap and you joke and you get on my nerves but for the serious stuff, we don’t have to talk. We get it. We get each other. You knew something was wrong with me after Amenai died, just like I knew something was bothering you recently.”

“But we always do stuff when we’re together!”

“Do we? No one would typically call me reading and you watching your show ‘doing stuff together’. We share our company but we don’t do things together, not unless we go out to specifically do that. And before you start, I’d rather read with you in the room than without you, because it’s more comfortable if you’re here.”

“But I interrupt you all the time,” Satoru says and he doesn’t even know why he’s arguing this.

“And I would rather have that than read my book unbothered,” Suguru shoots back. “Seriously, Satoru, when I described what love is to me, I described how I see our relationship. Everything I said is only true because it’s you.”

“So—your idea of love is me,” he dares to say and holds his breath for Suguru’s answer.

“It is,” Suguru admits and moves his other hand to thread their fingers together. “Just like your idea of love is me.”

“You love me,” Satoru whispers and Suguru smiles.

“And you love me,” he gives back and when Satoru props his chin up on Suguru’s chest he seems happy. Just as happy as Satoru feels.

“I do,” he agrees. “I do love you.”

“I love you,” Suguru replies and bends his head to kiss Satoru’s forehead. “I seriously was getting worried these last few weeks. You had me think I did something wrong.”

“Well, you did,” Satoru huffs out. “You made me believe that I wasn’t your idea of love.”

“Must have been a few hard weeks for you,” Suguru teases him with a smile and Satoru pouts at him until Suguru brings their lips together.

“The worst,” Satoru then agrees and demands another kiss. “You gotta make up for it.”

“I’m trying to but you just won’t shut up,” Suguru laughs out and softens his words with a kiss or three.

If this is how it goes, Satoru thinks he might be able to be more quiet in the future. But only for Suguru.

#bt writes #jjk #satosugu #geto suguru #gojo satoru #hurt/comfort #pining #love confessions #getting together #first kiss

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be-the-glenn-to-my-maggie · 6 months

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Avatar: The Last Airbender Live Action Thoughts!

-First of all, ya'll need to leave those child actors alone, they are babies and they didn't write the show, nor was it their idea to do it. I have seen way too many people body shaming children; leave them alone they all did well!

-I think Gordon makes Aang just as cute and small and powerful as I always saw him as!! He manages to joke around and be fun even when the storyline is a lot darker and more serious.

-I really wish Sokka was able to be more of his goofy and silly self. I understand why he isn't, and his humor is more sarcasm and dark jokes, but I saw glimpses of him in there! His excitement when he was with the Mechanist, engineering and getting to do something other than be in charge. Also when he has any older brother convo with Katara or Aang. I'm hopeful with time he'll be able to loosen up!

-(Speaking of the Mechanist, my boy Danny Pudi was SO GOOD, I love him, him and his little son).

-I wish Aang would practice waterbending with Katara :( those scenes of them practicing together were always some of my favorites in the series. Just beautiful kataang moments. I'm glad they addressed it but I missed those moments.

-I don't understand how you guys can't be having fun watching this, I get so excited waiting for little moments of lore, or when Jet and Katara were fighting in the forest I was sitting in front of the TV like "WHERE'S SMELLERBEE AND LONGSHOT. OH MY GOD NO IT'S PIPSQUEAK!" It's just so much fun! The colors are beautiful, the effects are gorgeous, and the plot and characters are entertaining. Think about the piece as it's own thing and enjoy it!

-Adaptations are just that; adaptations, and things will be changed! I think so far I haven't minded their changes, I understand why they've been made. There are things to criticize, but I think this is pretty well done.

-Zuko is fantastic; I think all the child actors are fairly good but Dallas' pissy attitude and the faces he makes are so so fun! I feel for Zuko and I'm scared of him when he shows up, and he's just as annoying and bratty as ponytail Zuko should be. His physical motions are fantastic!

-TEO WAS SO LITTLE?? Oh my god, like as a kid I thought the cartoon version of him was kinda hot so when they wheeled that tiny baby in I was HORRIFIED.

-Idk why YOU ALL weren't scared of Lizzy Yu's Azula, but her little smile in her intro scene gave me a lil chill. Maybe it's because I was away when the show first came out so I saw post after post about how bad she was, but I just.... Thought she'd be worse?? She did really well! Ya'll better be careful though or Gaten Matarazzo will come for you, that's his girl.

-So far the mushing of plots has made sense to me. Yes, I miss the silly filler episodes and the traveling the Gaang did, but it allows us to sit in a scene longer, and to colorize the world better, when we're in one place and one plot for longer. I think that's important for this type of medium and this amount of episodes. They might be able to justify more next season if this show does well enough.

-I am OBSESSED with Zuko and the 41st division oh my god, what a fantastic and well thought out addition. The reveal, and they're bowing for him when he comes back was DEVASTATING.

-They we're GIVING us Sokka and Katara best sibling moments, I loved all of them. They are so cute, they just mean so much to me.

-I don't feel Appa or Momo as characters like I did in the cartoon. I'm hoping this can change, because rn they surprise me every time they get on screen. I'm like "WHAT- oh it's Momo, he's here." How are we going to feel Appa's loss as much as we did in the cartoon if they continue to like barely be in it.

-Ken Leung SLAYED as Admiral Zhao, I watched him go literally insane as the episodes went on.

-Aang's imposter syndrome and feeling of failure being focused on I will always enjoy, even if I hope he can be silly next season too. His entire character arc this season just made me want to cry.

-Bro the coloring during the the Siege of the North was A M A Z I N G. The way the color faded in and out with fireballs and the monster koi passing nearby, just so pretty. It looked awesome.

-Making Yue a waterbender? The best. Her freezing Sokka in place so he can't stop her? Heartbreaking.

-Iroh and Zuko paddling off looking for bestie Lt. Jee?? Okay.

-They really grew this show up for us adults that watched it in 2005 and focused in on the really painful moments, themes, and details.

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acciocriativity · 1 year

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The Cat and The Fox II - PSH & JWY - TCTF SERIES

(Pictures aren't mine, credits for the rightful owners)

Pairing: hybridcat!seonghwa x reader x hybridfox!wooyoung (non-romantic)

Genre: fluff, angst

Warnings/tags: mentions of blood and injuries: implied abuse and trauma; hybrid au; hybrid series

WC: 2,9 K

N/A: This took me way too much time to finish, I'm so sorry! There'll be a part 3 of this sooner than later, I promise 💕 As always my requests are open!

The Cat and The Fox I

The Cat and The Fox III

Ateez Masterlist

The fox looked... pissed off at me, like I was at fault for his injuries somehow.

The fox looked … pissed off at me, like I was at fault for his injuries somehow.

And that would be expected if he was still bleeding and hungry like three hours ago, but he wasn’t. He was curled in that same box drenched in dried blood, because he refused to get out of it after we came inside, eating a fruit salad I made for him 15 minutes ago.

Somehow, he stayed calm while the cat was near him, without attacking or hissing at each other once, while I had scratches on my arms, because I tried to take him to a specialized vet. It was the weirdest thing I’ve ever seen. They seemed perfectly fine in each other presence.

How did he even get hurt in the first place if it wasn’t the cat?

But the important part is, he wasn’t making a huge mess like the first time, actually he barely moved.

He was in the corner of the living room, staring at me now and then, while chewing another piece of apple. I tried not the obvious as I glanced at him, while the cat was walking to my side on the couch.

The TV was loud, but I barely focused on it until I felt two paws kneading on my left thigh. The cat meowed once when I looked at him.

“What?”, I asked.

The feeling of being ridiculous for talking to him like he would answer was yet to disappear.

He meowed once more, looking at my bandaged left arm. Then, he jumped on my lap, and laid his head down on my stomach. My heart could barely take in the scene in front of my eyes. His paws kept kneading me, while caressing my arm with his fluffy head and tail.

“It’s okay, kitty”, I said as I petted his head.

Just as soon as I touched his fur, I heard a hiss coming from the corner.

“Aren’t you a good one? So cute”, I said, still looking at the cat while petting his head.

The hissing sound didn’t stop, but I kept ignoring it.

Was that fox really protective of the cat? Or he was still hurting?

To test the theory, I stopped petting the cat, yet the hissing didn’t stop, and I heard a soft meow of protest, so I got back to the job.

They had to be from the same home still, but maybe the pain it was too much

That thought made me curl in the couch. I wish I could help more, but he clearly didn’t like my presence even if I could, and there’s nothing I could do about it, at least not this late. I still didn’t know how he got such a deep cut, since my initial theory was wrong, and the chances of knowing are none, but I hope their owners get a grip, and start to take care of them better.

“I need a name for you… for both of you”, I murmured.

Suddenly the hissing stopped, and I heard little muffed taps on the floor coming from the corner. My hands left the soft fur of the cat’s head, and he wasn’t happy at all, but I wasn’t about to get any more scratches.

I saw the red fur of his ears picking out from the side of the couch, then one of his eyes, that bright yellow ones that for the first time didn’t look like they wanted to tear me apart, instead it as almost as if i-

The fox jumped at me.

I didn’t have time to close my eyes.

He stood on 4 paws by my side, bobbing his nose on the cat’s head while whining, and I couldn’t do anything besides watch the scene in front of my eyes. His fur touched my skin lightly, and I didn’t dare to move. Then, finally, the cat seemed to understand what the fox wanted, and gave space beside himself. The whining stopped and both of them laid on my lap, side by side, as calm as the night outside.

I didn’t dare to move, my heart was racing while I tried to process the bizarre scene in front of me, but the thing is, I couldn’t. What kind of animal behavior is that? For my own safety, I didn’t touch them, and tried my best to not move and bother them.

The living room was silent for some time, while I was lost in my own mind.

“Where did you come from?”, I asked after sometime, and both heads looked up to me.

I didn’t mean to ask it out loud, it wasn’t like I’d get an answer.

The cat decided to get up from my lap, and I thought he’d walk away. Instead, he sat on my lap while looking straight at me and raised his left paw up. I took it with my own left hand, a small smile in my face. He was too cute, weird as fuck, sure, but a cute cat.

“Oh, it’s nice to meet you I guess”, I said, moving my hand up and down in the air. “I wish you had your collar, then I’d know how to call you”.

He meowed, and I released his paw, but then he kept nuzzling my hand.

“You want this?”, I caressed his head and the purring started right away.

The fox did nothing but stare, which I took as a sign he wouldn’t attack me. His tail moved from left to right in a calm manner, and he seemed relaxed enough on my thigh. That was good, but his staring was unsettling to say the least. Was he staring so much at? The clothes I was wearing weren’t anything special, could foxes even see this amount of colors?

The fox stood up suddenly, eyes straight on me, and I waited for the worst, however he just raised his right paw up to me, and I took it with care, avoiding his sharp nails in the process. On his neck, there’s a clear sign of where the collar was, his fur was dirtier on a closer look, something I didn’t get to do until now.

“It’s nice to meet you too”.

He took his own paw from my hand, and he made a sound that I could only hope it was satisfaction. The fox bumped his head on the cats’ neck, which the latter didn’t seem to mind. It didn’t hold too much force, just enough to… get attention? The cat turned his head to the fox and there was silence, like they were communicating without me knowing.

I had the urge to look up to the TV, the show I was supposed to watch still there, but I lost enough that I ended up lost on the plot. Somehow, it didn’t feel right to just stare at them at the moment, so I focused on what was in front of me.

I felt the cat moving around my lap, and then another set of 4 paws.

They trust way too easy, but at least that was a good sign of the owner taking good care of them. But how the hell I’m supposed to find them?

“Kitty, you seem really smart”, I say as I looked down at them.

He purred while the fox whined and tapped my left tight, the one he was on top of.

“You also seem smart, foxy”, I tried to calm him down, and my hand almost reached for his fur, but I contained myself. “But you don’t have your collars, and your owner must be worried by now”.

The reaction they gave me wasn’t the one I expected. The word owner didn’t trigger purrs, heads looking around to find him or soft meows, no, it triggered shivers, distressed whines and bodies cowering in a small ball on top of my lap.

I petted them with both hands, while my heart broke at the sight.

Good care my ass, with this type of reaction because of a single word… what the fuck happened to them?

“Shhh, it’s okay, you both are safe, that person isn’t here”, I whispered as I petted them. “You can stay here, you don’t have to go back”, I said desperately as I tried to calm them down.

These clearly weren’t a normal cat and fox, that much was clear, but the moment they responded to me, a word came to mind. They had to be mixed with hybrid genes, that’s the only reason as why they’re so human-like in a sense.

They calmed down while I whispered reassurances as best as I could, because if it was up to me, they wouldn’t go back to an abusive home.

Both of them kept themselves in a little ball, as small as possible, but they were purring at least, and I took a deep breath.

“I’m sorry”, I whispered, because it felt too wrong to speak any louder in a situation like this.

They looked up at me when I said it, still froze in place it seemed, not a single sound out of their mouths, but theirs eyes were telling enough, so expressive that I couldn’t doubt they had hybrids genes.

“I’m sorry that someone was so awful to the point of you both being so terrified, I’ll find a better place for you”.

It was slow at first, but they moved from that position and laid on me, both heads hiding between my body and arms. Their ears hanging low on their heads, and tickling my skin. The softness was shocking still, it felt like a blanket even when they were supposed to be unkempt and dirty.

“Soo, I supposed you don’t want to take a bath, right?”, I said.

The reactions were immediate. The fox looked up, wide eyes, ears shot up on his head and body prepared to run as fast as he felt I’d make him do it, but the cat kept still, and nuzzled my arm even though his eyes were locked on me.

“It’s fine, I won’t make you”, I said as I smiled, and petted both of their heads.

It was bold of me, I could get scratched again by the fox, but he let me did it, so I took it as progress. They seemed wary still, more the fox than the cat to be honest, their personality was shinning through at that moment.

“It’s true, I won’t, I promise you that, but what about a towel? It must be uncomfortable being dirty, right?”

I looked from one to the other. The cat seemed fine, happy even, since he purred as an answer and raised one of his paws to my arm, it was a light and careful touch.

“Can I bring one for you?”, I asked in a soft tone of voice, and he nodded lightly. “Okay, so what about you, foxy?”

His yellowish eyes bored into mine and his body was stiff and wary on top of my thighs, yet he was still careful with his nails.

“You can do it on your own, I don't have to do it for you and I won't touch you at all, I said, and he nodded slowly.

“Okay, can you move, so I can get up?”

They did, both jumped back to the floor, and I took the opportunity to make an appropriate dinner for the three of us while they got themselves cleaned.

I knew the cat could clean himself without it, but I wasn’t sure about the fox, so I laid two towels on the floor for them and I went to the kitchen.

That was the first night. After the fifth night, the three of us developed a nice routine.

They knew they were safe and that I’d be back after work every evening. The second night was enough of whines and cries to know that they were… sensitive to sudden changes. There were food for them available when they wanted it on the little bowls I bought in the that first same night, I prepared all the meals in the mornings, and they could leave anytime if they wanted to, but I wasn’t sure if they ever did. The first time I came home after rescuing them, I was scared they had left for some an unknown reason. Sure, it was getting late, and the streets were unpredictable, who knows what could happen, but it was more than that. I had a soft spot for them already and if I keep up that pace, I’d be really hard to let them go someday.

“Kitty? Foxy?”

The lights of the living room were already on, but there wasn’t sign of them. I took off my coat and let my shoes by the entrance while I was scanning the room. Were they upstairs sleeping again? It was almost snack time. They came downstairs yesterday when I came home, it was the official snack time.

I decided to ignore the worst possible scenario and walked into the kitchen, then I took two bowls and opened the fridge. This amount of noise should’ve made them come downstairs already.

It’s fine, it’s ok, maybe they went out to play outside. It wasn’t fine. I let everything on the counter top and went upstairs.

“Kitty? Foxy?”

I really needed to give them better names than this, but it wasn’t the time to think about it now. They didn’t come to me, nor I heard any noise besides my own steps and nervous heart.

I went through my room, the bed was messy as they like to lay in it when I wasn’t home, that much was clear since day one. Then I went to the guest bedroom, but it was untouched. Maybe they locked themselves in the bathroom, but still nothing as I checked.

I didn’t like to where the possibilities were going, but there was still a chance of them playing outside, so I went to look around the house. There was still enough sunlight, but I didn’t get lucky until I heard a noise, a loud whining coming from the roof.

“Kitty? Foxy? Are you up there? Did you climb to the roof?”

Anyone looking out of their windows would think I went insane. Of course, they wouldn’t understand, no, not a normal cat and fox, but mine were far from it.

I was screaming in front of the house, trying to look up, but there wasn’t a sign of them, none that I could see from the ground. The only answer I got was another whining, and it sounded like foxy, that was enough for me to grab a staircase that I never even used before.

It was an old one for sure, it came with the house, and now I knew why, it was so fucking heavy to carry anywhere. There was the normal staircase, then you could slide two parts up and it’d get even taller. And that’s what I had to do, even though I didn’t trust the mechanism that hold it tight was working as good as it should.

But it was for foxy and kitty, they could’ve climbed there without knowing how to get down for hours, they must be hungry by now too, so I didn’t waste any more time.

As soon as I was on eye level with the roof, I froze in place.

Two men sat on my roof, side by side, curled around themselves to be seen as small as possible, not a single cloth protecting them for the cold and tails hugging each other's thighs.

“Ho-”

“Please, don’t make us leave”, one of them interrupted me.

The voice stunt me for a second. It was so deep, rough even and low, so low and that seemed like a crime because I could barely hear it above the soft wind.

“Don’t move, I’ll bring up towels and let’s get you both down, okay?”

There wasn’t an answer, but I didn’t wait for one. I felt my body out of my mind’s control, there weren’t thoughts running through my head as I ran to get towels for them, nor when they came down and sat on my couch.

Their heads were down, soft and fluffy ears flat against it. It hasn’t been more than two minutes since I found them, but they didn’t look up to me once.

“I’ll bring clothes for you both, one of you can go to the bathroom and the other to the guest room.”

I’ve seen their ears shot up and I couldn’t contain my smile. It was exactly like their animals' counterpart.

“I knew you were hybrids, I won’t make you guys leave, it doesn’t make a difference to me”

Finally, they looked up at me. Another déjà vu hit me hard, but this time it felt different. They were more vulnerable than ever, and it wasn’t because of the lack of clothing, no, I knew better than that. Their eyes told me what I needed to know once again.

“So, how can I call you? I knew I had to change kitty and foxy to your real names at some point”

They looked at each other, speechless, both sat still with hands gripping hard on the soft cloth.

“Right, the introductions can wait, I’ll bring clothes for you both. One can wait for me in the bathroom and the other in the guest room, if you prefer it.”

They nodded and got up.

It was intriguing how their body language was the exact same, too. If it wasn’t by the colors of their ears and tails, I could still say who was my kitty and who was my foxy.

Damn, I did actually call them mine, didn’t I?

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