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phoenixkaptain · 1 year

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I can’t help but find something so fascinating about Legends’ Luke.

He grew up on Tatooine, a place I am still unconvinced has an actual school on it. He grew up somehow being optimistic on the worst planet in the known galaxy. Do you realize how bad Tatooine is? They have a Sarlacc Pit, they have two suns, they have a den of evil and corruption and villainy, and a Hutt lives there! And Luke is still an optimist!

But the way the novels especially portray Luke’s thought process is what fascinates me. Luke isn’t confident in his abilities. Luke doesn’t even fully understand his abilities. He has to figure out how to train Leia when he was barely trained himself. He has to figure out how to teach children when he doesn’t even understand what that would even entail.

He is nervous and he is depressed and he has moments where he thinks about old fights and gets more nervous. He’s also friends with Lando Calrissian, who for all intents and purposes set a trap specifically for Luke! Nobody else trusts Lando as much after that debacle, except for Luke, who apparently talks to him enough for Lando to teach him how to make hot chocolate.

Luke gave his father a second chance. His father who killed countless people and killed Luke’s friends and killed Luke’s family and Luke still believed that he could be good. So of course Luke gives Lando another chance, Luke is the King of Giving Out Second Chances.

There are parts where he just drifts. Where he’s alone and he feels lonely and he doesn’t want to do anything and the weight of everything feels like it’s crushing him. But, he still tries to convince Threepio and Leia that he’s fine. Leia can literally feel his emotions and Luke just tells her he’s fine. Luke tells everyone that he’s fine, when he really just feels lost.

Luke refers to Yoda as his Master and his friend. He considers Obi-Wan his Master and his friend, but more than that even, he loves Obi-Wan and is absolutely crushed when Force Ghost Obi-Wan tells him he’s leaving. Luke went through the most rushed and hurried Jedi training in the history of ever, but he still tries to remember what Yoda and Obi-Wan did. More, he tries to understand why they taught him the way they did. Were they pressed for time or was Luke really just that quick of a learner? Luke has no idea.

But, I think of Luke losing time, a lot. Where he’ll be doing something and he’ll blank out the whole memory. And yes, this is mostly referred to when Luke uses the Force, and I like to think it’s the Force letting Luke sit in the backseat while it drives for a few seconds or minutes. The point isn’t that though. The point is that he loses time and he doesn’t remember things and he doesn’t know how he can use the Force, he doesn’t understand why he can use the Force, and he can’t explain it to anyone, because Luke doesn’t really consciously use the Force that much.

I think we’re meant to assume that Luke is sort of always using the Force. I say this because from the very start back in 1976, we know that Luke would drive full tilt at canyon walls to pull away at the last second. We know that he had a somehow impeccable aim with a blaster. We know that he dodges attacks without even really comprehending why he’s moving. Luke is sort of always using the Force, especially as the movies go on to the Empire Strikes Back and Return of the Jedi. I don’t think Luke knows how not to use the Force, really.

We know that Jedi can hide themselves, even that early on, because Obi-Wan managed to hide his presence from Darth Vader while they were on the Death Star (for a while, at least, and even then, it’s implied that Obi-Wan slipped up for one second. Vader just noticed that slip up because he’s so familiar with Obi-Wan). But hiding himself from Vader is never really an option that Luke considers. He doesn’t know how to hide himself, he doesn’t know how to be anything other than a flashing beacon. Luke uses the Force so casually in Return of the Jedi, and maybe it’s strange, but I really think he can use it so easily because he’s always using it.

Luke dissociates and Luke zones out and Luke thinks about things that have nothing to do with his current dilemma and Luke’s aunt and uncle both died and Obi-Wan (who in the novel is described by Luke as practically being the desert. Luke associates him with Tatooine, because Ben has always been there, and therefore, on some level, Luke associates him with his home) dies and Luke has to shove all of that emotion down to do more action sequences. Luke believes in his father even when Vader is watching him be electrocuted and Luke tried so hard to save Vader by getting him off the ship and Luke burned Anakin in a pyre then went and smiled at Leia to tell her that he was fine.

Luke is a self-sacrificing character on a fundamental level. He does stupid stuff and he doesn’t really expect to live through it. We know this because he’s so excited to live through it. His assumptions were proven wrong, he’s still alive, and he didn’t see that coming.

Luke is also unlike every other Jedi we ever end up seeing. He has attachment because I honestly think that splitting up Force twins would be the equivalent of splitting an atom, so… Luke tries to speak around things, but he always ends up explaining in layman’s terms in the end. His plans are very clear cut, it’s obvious that Leia is the one who comes up with plans because Luke isn’t good at coming up with plans. (All of Luke’s plans are: jump in and hope for the best. Luke should not be allowed to plan anything, I’m hesitant to even let him try and plan lessons, honestly-)

Luke is kind of similar to mavericks like Qui-Gon, but Luke, for the most part, tries to stay in the lines? I cannot stress enough how law-abiding Luke somehow is, despite growing up on fucking Tatooine. Maybe a part of that is that Luke doesn’t have a Council to answer to, but I don’t know. While his actions feel kind of like Qui-Gon, Luke isn’t because Qui-Gon was obsessive and Luke just isn’t. Luke isn’t like Obi-Wan either, because Obi-Wan is one of the most pessimistic optimists in the whole series, and Luke is just an optimist. Anakin is based, later on especially, more on Luke, but Anakin honestly acts more like Leia.

Leia is the one who had a whirlwind romance with an older person, just like her father. Leia is the one who is a War General. Leia is the one who gets angry and irate and hides it beneath a very thin veneer. Leia is the one who talks back to people who want to see her dead. Leia is the one who was still casually chilling in her cell on the Death Star, after being tortured and before her scheduled execution. Leia is the character who chases after escaping figures without really stopping to think. Leia is like Anakin, and I can’t help but think that Anakin’s writing is purposefully based more off of Leia than Luke.

Luke isn’t like the Jedi Council, who answer to a Senate. The New Republic wants him to answer to him, but Luke up and ditches them to go to Dagobah multiple times. In fact, Luke never checks with the New Republic before going somewhere. He might check with Leia, but even then… Luke straight up is like “I’m going to Dagobah. Does anyone know? Of course not. That would be silly.”

Luke is so chaotic, honestly, when portrayed with the New Republic, because they ask him to do or not to do things and he does not listen.

They tell Leia “There’s no time for you to train as a Jedi.”

Luke says: “Dang, I better learn how to becoem a teacher quicker so I can teach you despite the leaders saying no.”

They say: “Luke, the Rebels are going to this rendezvous point, meet us there.”

Luke: “I’ll meet you there in a few months, give or take.”

They say: “Luke, you need to fly in formation.”

Luke: “I am going in, guns blazing, with only fifteen monutes experience driving a ship in outer space, and I am going to go for kills with no back up, and I’m going to encourage my friends to get out of bad situations while I get myself into worse ones, and I’m going to turn off my targetting computer and blow up the Death Star.”

And what can the New Republic even do?? Luke doesn’t have a position, outside of the nebulous “Jedi Master” and Luke doesn’t even have a Jedi Council, so they can’t complain to the Council, like they did in the good ol days and if they treat Luke too poorly or don’t listen to him enough or bother him in any way, Leia Organa Solo will descend upon them with the wrath of ten thousand men. And, to make matters worse, Luke doesn’t let this power go to his head, so they can barely even complain to each other!

The New Republic has literally zero control over Luke and Luke’s actions. They can suggest things and he might do them, but Luke has the power to do whatever he wants whenever he wants. They are lucky he’s loyal, or he would probably dip out mid-mission.

This fact alone makes Luke the strangest Jedi. Luke answers to no one. The Jedi had a Council for thousands of years, but Luke doesn’t. Jedi Masters perform some feat of strength and overcome great trials to reach their station. Luke wasn’t even the one to actually kill the Emperor.

If I were to liken Luke to anyone, maybe it would be Yaddle. Especially with Tales of the Jedi’s depiction of her basically making her a direct mirror to Luke. Yaddle is young, for her species. Yaddle became a Master (I cannot stress enough that this may not be canon anymore, but it was at one point and good God I want it to be so bad) by meditating in a prison for a hundred years. Yaddle is willing to find a way to forgive Dooku for all of his innumerous crimes and she wants to be there for him because she knows Dooku had a strong attachment to his Padawan. Luke is what I imagine Yaddle would act like without the Council. Or maybe, Yaddle is what I imagine Luke would act like with the Council.

But really, there’s no Jedi that acts the way Luke does. Even when they tried to make Rey into a Luke-type, it just didn’t turn out that way. Luke is self-sacrificing, yes. Luke is reckless, he is dumb, he zones out, and he gets attached. But, Luke wants to help people. And Luke has an undying loyalty. And Luke responds to problems in the same way Anakin did, minus all the wrecked ships.

He’s such a unique character, especially in Legends’, and I think what strikes me is that they clearly wanted Luke to be a small version of his father, in the beginning.

But, somehow, Leia still has more in common with Vader than Luke does. Leia and Vader both are the faces of their respective organizations, despite not technically leading. Leia and Vader are both feared when they’re angry. Leia and Vader are both unimpressed and unintimidated by Tarkin. Leia and Vader have parallels and they act as opposites, the obvious being Leia in white and Vader in black. But, there’s also Vader’s complete faith in the Force, and Leia’s line that force just leads to downfall. Even their heights, with Vader being so tall and Leia being so short. They are clearly narrative foils, but in the way that they are similar depsite their differences. They’re both leaders. They even both act arrogant with fake accent. I cannot stress enough that Leia and Vader are so clearly two sides of the same coin, especially in A New Hope. Even down to them both getting excited when they realize Obi-Wan is aboard (albeit for different reasons…)

Luke just doesn’t have that with Vader. I feel like we as a culture are so aware of the twist in the second movie, that we just know it’s coming and so don’t think about Luke’s similarities. The only similarities they really share are that Luke looks like his dad and Luke pilots like his dad. Oh, and Luke has the Force like his dad. They’re both from Tatooine. I suppose you could call Luke’s unwavering faith in Vader’s goodness a reference to Vader’s unwavering faith in the Force. Luke does wear dark colours too. But those are things that come later!

In the first movie, the similarities are just looks, Tatooine, piloting. Luke is inherently innocent in the first movie in a way Vader or Anakin are never portrayed. It’s hinted in the novel and deleted scenes that the Lars family is poor, but just looking at the first movie and novel for reference, there’s no evidence really there to support the idea that Anakin grew up poor. Anakin went off to train with Jedi and fight in a war. Luke also runs off to train with Jedi and fight in a war, but even their motivations are different. Luke only leaves when there’s nothing left for him on Tatooine. Anakin probably could have returned at any point and Owen and Beru would’ve just shrugged and let him stay.

I just, I know Luke is supposed to be a mini version of his father, but it doesn’t feel like Vader was supposed to be that father, in A New Hope.

But, I’ve gotten sidetracked. Luke is a strange character. He dissociates. He cut off Vader’s hand and went “Yeah. I feel like we’re even now. I’m content.” He wonders how he can teach Leia and then dissociates for twenty minutes while using the training bot. He made Leia a lightsaber. He barely ever listens to any authority figure, but he almost always listens to Leia. He can understand binary and is fond of Artoo and Threepio. His best friend was the Force Ghost version of Obi-Wan. He considers Yoda his friend. He strangled a Gamorrean guard to death. He has a friendship with Lando Calrissian that is apparently very strong, but you almost never see them even stand next to each other. He and Leia are so ridiculously intuned to each other that they respond to each other’s thoughts and they can tell if each other is alive even when Leia’s on planet and Luke’s on the second Death Star. Luke probably would have had a similar bond with Vader, but he tried to keep it closed off. Leia gets pregnant with Force-sensitive twins and Luke’s first thought is “How am I going to train these children when I don’t know how to teach???”

Luke is so weird. He’s so strange. He’s absolutely adorable. He’s unlike any other Jedi in the series, and he found the stew Yoda made to be quite tasty, actually.

(Also, speaking of Yoda. Luke shimmied around Yoda’s little house, careful not to break anything, and he ate some stew and he had a talk and then he goes “Wait a minute, why am I sitting here with you? I was looking for Master Yoda >:/“ He got distracted, he got sidetracked, I occasionally jokingly say that Anakin has ADHD but actually it isn’t a joke and Luke definitely isn’t neurotypical either, Luke was just having a gay old time with the weird green man who introduced himself by stealing Luke’s stuff.)

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sweetiehyuka · 2 years

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Ghosting.

Chapter 2

wc - 1k

warnings - angst, mental illness

♪ tired - beabadoobee ♪

8:14am

Sometimes, it feels like I'm watching life in slow motion. Sitting idle, watching my four friends chatter at our little lunch table in the uni common room, focusing on the multitude of people weaving between eachother behind them rather than my friends themselves. The screeching of chairs against the floor, the heavy wooden doors repeatedly opening then slamming shut, the loud voices of everyone around me - they all just go straight through me. Right now, none of it is anything to me. I see nothing. I hear nothing. I feel nothing. I am not here. Even my best friend, Soobin, doesn't seem real to me. I cannot process a single word he is saying - his deep voice that I've heard a thousand times - it does nothing but cause ringing in my ears.

I probably look like a fucking idiot as I sit here, zoned out, eyes blank and mouth gawking open. But I can't pull myself out of it. I know that it's been too long since I last said something, or made an annoying joke, or laughed really loud, but when you were born to be an observer, it's hard to always remember to act like a human instead of just a thing that sits and watches people talk as if they're characters in a movie.

This is something I think about all the time. Maybe too much, actually... if me and my friends were characters in our own movie, who would we all be?

Yeonjun would be the protagonist. For sure. It's rare that there's not a girl or two standing at our lunch table flirting with him; twirling their hair, their palms pressed against the white plastic surface of our table in an attempt to sensually prop themselves up, shooting a smirk down at him to match his own smug expression. He gets their number, shoots them a wink and tells them he'll call them later that night. And boys, too, who wrap their arms around his waist and pull him round the sides of buildings and we don't see him again til two hours later, when his shirt his creased and his once perfectly slicked hair is all messy. He clubs til the early hours and still manages to earn himself decent grades. He sleeps and eats as shit as me and still manages to have a perfectly crafted appearance. I love how he lives. If I had his confidence and organisation, I would too. I think he'd be the protagonist of some kind of coming of age film, perhaps a romance.

Taehyun would be the secondary character. He is Yeonjun's best friend and is often his partner in crime in most situations. He'd be the protagonists' rock, and would come up with mmost of the solutions to their problems. Characters like Taehyun - the 'sidekicks', or the 'wingmen', if you will, always seem to be more charming to me ; I don't even have to shift my gaze towards him to know why I find him that way. Silky hair styled in a subtle way, neat cotton jumpers with perfectly cuffed trousers, candied lips and a glint in his eyes that says 'I know everything'. I wish I was closer with him... he's just so alluring.

Kai would be the fan favourite. Not too present in the main story, but absolutely adored by the fanbase. He'd be the teenage girls' resident 'uwu softboi', and he's defnitely have edits made of him with cat ears and blush and hello kitty bandges all over his face. I guess he just has that endearing aura about him, and he never lets an ounce of negativity seep out of his tiny mouth. I've never been able to connect with Kai much because he's so shy, but he's always been soft and warm to me.

Soobin would be somewhere in the middle. I'm never quite sure about him. He's smart and intuitive, and provides a lot of witty comments that would be good one liners. He'd have more of a present role than me and Kai, but not quite 'main character' material. It's ironic how I have the least to say about my closest friend, but I'm just not sure. Our friends only really go to him when they need something, rather than doing things for him back, so if Yeonjun is the protagonist then Soobin would just be a casual aide to his story.

I'd probably be the comic relief character. Not important to the story, mostly in the background, only useful for lightening the mood with stupid jokes. I'd probably have those 'beomgyu being confused about everything' and 'beomgyu being a living meme' compilations made about me. That's about it.

"Earth to Beomgyu?" Yeonjun taunts, waving his hand infront of my face.

"Close your mouth, Gyu, you'll catch flies." Soobin says, leaning towards me, chomping on some other kind of snack. His witty comment earns a shreiking laugh from Kai and quiet laughs from the other two, along with an amused smirk on his own face. I don't know what they were talking about before, or when they actually noticed that I wasn't paying attention, so I just play along by laughing back. I think I laughed a bit too loud because Yeonjun is now staring at me with a slightly confused look on his face instead of snickering like he was before. Oh well. At least I'm present now.

I take my can of fanta in one hand and glide my fingertip against its rim, enjoying the smooth feeling of the damp metal. I look at the clock. 8:21. Almost time for my 8:30 lecture. I stand up and mutter a quick goodbye as I sling my backpack over my shoulder. Stuffing my airpods into my ears, I slunk away into the abyss of students, hoping my hazy mindset wont end up in me getting lost and being late, as it has many times before.

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motownfiction · 2 years

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barbed-wire fence

Teething was torturous for Charlie. He doesn’t remember it, but his mother does. Says he ran a fever that not even Peggy Lee would have believed. They gave him more teething rings than they could count, but in the end, nothing helped. His father joked that the only thing that could have soothed him was chewing on a barbed-wire fence. There were some nights he almost went looking for one.

Eventually, all of Charlie’s teeth came in – a darling boy who grew into a handsome man. But even with all of his teeth, it was like he never stopped teething. He still lived his life like he was biting through what he had to get to the middle of the next thing. And in the middle of the bite, heaven help him, it felt so good, he couldn’t even remember how to loosen his jaw.

He’s not sure what got into him with Elenore. Maybe it was that early twenties ingénue thing, or the fact that she always looked at him with big, glittery blue eyes of love and admiration, in either order. Maybe it was that Carrie had kicked him out a long time before she actually packed a bag and threw it into his chest. Either way, it happened before he could process it, and by the time it was over, he just wanted to do it again.

Last night, with Steph Armstrong, it was different.

Charlie’s still not sure what got into him about her, but he figures it was a cocktail of problems, each with its own unique bitterness. It was the second anniversary of his brother’s death, he had just run into Steph, the great love of his brother’s life, and when he found out she cheated on him when they were young and full of it, he kind of lost his mind. By calling her, he thinks maybe he was trying to make things right. Get things even. Bite down and take a piece out of everything that had gone wrong, starting with the woman who must have broken his brother’s heart and never even told him why. And in the middle of it, it was right. It was good.

But now, Steph is gone, and Charlie has released his jaw. He’s left alone in a motel bed, flipping through cheap Christmas movies on network television, trying to decide whether he’s allowed to cry. He never decides. Just sits up in bed, massaging the right side of his jaw, praying he’ll work through the pain … praying he’ll find something else to bite.

After all, it feels so good to bite.

It’s the aftertaste that makes him sick.

(part of @nosebleedclub august challenge -- day iv!)

#drabble #writeblr #ch: charlie doyle #year: 2004

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jesse-eisenberg-interview · 9 years

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Jesse Eisenberg on “The End of the Tour”

Actor Portrays a Journalist Interviewing David Foster Wallace On His “Infinite Jest” Book Tour

Jul 31, 2015 By Austin Trunick

In The End of the Tour, Jesse Eisenberg plays David Lipsky, a journalist for Rolling Stone assigned to interview literary legend David Foster Wallace (Jason Segel) while on a promotional book tour for his landmark novel, Infinite Jest. The film—directed by James Ponsoldt—was adapted from the memoir that Lipsky wrote recounting those few days the two men spent together, and the way the experience reshaped his life.

Eisenberg’s subtle performance in the film is his best since The Social Network, which earned him a 2010 Best Actor nomination. This summer he’ll also appear in the stoner action film, American Ultra, and will play the villainous Lex Luthor in next year’s anticipated blockbuster Batman v Superman: Dawn of Justice.

The actor and writer told us about his experience making the intimate The End of the Tour, as well as his short story collection, Bream Gives Me Hiccups, due in book stores this fall.

Austin Trunick [Under the Radar]: So much of David Lipsky’s book – and the screenplay for the film – was based on taped conversations. Did you consult those tapes, and did they have much hand in shaping your performance?

Jesse Eisenberg: Yeah … You hear this kind of camaraderie mixed with this kind of tacit competition; my character trying to get a word in edgewise. He and the other guy brilliantly talking about things that don’t always have to do with what the interview was about. You hear him talk about funny, off-handed things, and give his opinion on unusual topics. It made it real for me. It also gave me insight into just how it sounded.

You also spent some time with David Lipsky. What did you take away from the experience with him that you were able to bring into your role?

The first thing I asked him was, “Was this an emotional experience for you?” And he said it was very emotional. I asked why, and he told me what the context of the experience was like and how it caught him at an important time in his life, when he was going through [transforming] feelings of identity, and then meeting this guy who seemingly has got it together, and has everything in the world. And then realizing that this guy who’s accomplished everything my character wants to accomplish actually hasn’t got it together.

The role called for subtlety: your character goes through this big process of self-discovery brought on purely through conversation and reflection. As an actor, how do you approach a script where so much occurs internally? Do you have to map out where you see the emotional beats or your character’s changes to be?

I actually did something I’ve never done before, and I didn’t plan anything, because the movie didn’t call for specific mandates for emotional experiences at any given moment. It’s a looser structure than most movies. I tried to take advantage of that and not plan for any specific moment that should be some kind of climactic experience. And then what happens is you find things that are otherwise seemingly small moments, which become more impactful. It ended up becoming my favorite process that I’ve ever had, because it really felt like at any moment something could hit you in a way that felt real and dramatically potent.

Was there any apprehension or nervousness going into this shoot, knowing that you’d have to portray all of these intimate conversations with Jason Segel, who you hadn’t even met yet?

No, I really liked that. When you’re acting in something, all of the other characters are always in your imagination in some way. Even though another person is playing them, you’re living with the fiction as well.

Jason Segel had to play character who is a literary legend, and whose speech patterns and outward traits are well-known to his face. How did Jason impress you with his performance, now that you’ve worked together?

He was able to really successfully bring himself to the role. Even though the character has some kind of public presence, Jason was able to transcend all of that and make it a character who could exist on his own as an interesting character and really complicated person, irrespective of it being based on a real guy who was a well-known, interesting, and complicated person.

I want to ask you about James Ponsoldt. As much as the film asked from you and Jason, it also had to be a challenge to direct. Can you describe the sort of direction he gave to you on this film, when you were doing these long, conversational scenes?

He’s just the perfect director for this kind of movie. He does these things that are usually in conflict. One is that he makes you, as an actor, feel like you have complete freedom. And he also does this other thing, which is usually the opposite of that, in that he makes you feel like you’re in this safe environment where anything you do is in support of the film, and come off in a respectable way. Those two things usually don’t exist together. A lot of times you’ll feel like you have complete freedom, but the movie might not turn out well because it doesn’t feel like there’s a guiding hand. And sometimes there’s a guiding hand that you feel stifled by. He just has this perfect mix of both. I think Jason and I both felt that everything we were doing was coming from a very personal place within us. And yet, we both knew that it would be shaped for this story that was good regardless of the personal feelings we had for it.

You have a book coming in a few months: Bream Gives Me Hiccups. It’s humorous short stories. What can you tell me about it? Is there a theme that ties the collection together?

There are longer pieces in the book that are, to me, thematically connected. All the stories are kind of personal, even if they are humorous. There’s one about this nine-year-old boy and his mother, and them coming to terms with what their relationship is; it’s funny but sad, and it was very similar to the experience of this movie. This young man becoming sort of disillusioned with his mother in the same way that my character becomes disillusioned with a hero. Well, not disillusioned as much as he sees the reality of it. And then another long spree that I wrote in the book, I was actually writing it on the weekends [while shooting The End of the Tour.] In this movie, my character is feeling so insecure about his own work that I ended up spending every weekend and every night writing from the perspective of this freshman girl who is having trouble transitioning into college, and so she demonizes everybody at school. I guess it was kind of my expression from doing this movie … there are a lot of overlaps that I see with the character I play in this movie and the character in that story, although I can’t imagine any outsider would see it.

How many years of work does this book cover? How far back was the earliest short in it written?

I guess probably three years or so. I’d written for the New Yorker and McSweeney’s, so some of that stuff was written a while ago, and then I wrote a lot of new stuff once I thought to compile a book.

You did an interview at Book Expo, where you expressed that your notoriety as an actor would make editors more inclined to publish your work, and that was why it was important to you to make sure the work stood on its own merits.

Mm-hm.

Does that create a lot of added pressure for you, when you’re in the editing phase? How do you judge when a piece is finally ready? Do you have an inclination to keep tweaking and polishing it?

Yeah, exactly. I’m doing a play now, and I need to stop changing stuff because it’s getting published. But the problem is I do the play every night and so I make little changes. I mean, little tiny changes, because I’m acting in the play and seeing what works, what doesn’t work, I know I can change a word here. But I have to turn the play in to my publisher. That’s been the most egregious example of me struggling to send in the final copy of something. With fiction that’s not being performed, I have people I send it to, but I usually have a good sense if I’m comfortable with something or not. There are things I really like that I consider to be my favorite, but it’s not universally liked by the people that I send it to, but that’s okay, that’s the stuff I feel more comfortable with. Conversely, there are things that I’ve written that people like but I’ll never show to anybody, just because it doesn’t feel like something I feel needs to be in the world beyond my own computer. So, I guess I self-censor as much as anyone else self-censors, but I probably have an advantage an easier time in getting published. I acknowledge that, but I don’t think that necessarily says anything about the quality. I think it probably goes to the top of the pile more quickly, but I think it has to be of equivalent value to everything else that is getting published.

You write prose, and you write for the theater. This seems like a natural progression because you’re an actor, but do ever desire to write a screenplay one day?

Yes. When I was younger, I started out writing movie scripts and it was a frustrating process, because you need to change things to appease so many people whose hand in it is exclusively from an economic interest. So, I had to change things to make characters, as they say, more “likeable.” I’m sure I could navigate it a bit more deftly now, as an adult, but I just hated the experience [back then.] Playwriting for me was so ideal because you’re not asked to change anything to fit any economic pressures. You’re just dealing in a totally different world. And the actors respect the script, as opposed to a lot of actors in movies, who tailor the script to their own persona or what they think audiences want to see because they have a known presence. Stuff like that made me feel much more comfortable in theater.

Donald Marguiles, who wrote this movie, writes for theater, and we talk a lot about that.

Back to The End of the Tour. One of the interesting things, to me, is that your character, David Lipsky, walks into this interview as an accomplished writer – he’s published books, and is on staff at Rolling Stone. But he’s still in awe of his subject, David Foster Wallace, who’s a literary giant. I’m curious—have you ever been in a situation you feel was comparable? Have you ever had a chance to connect with an artist who you really admire?

Yeah. I’m doing a Woody Allen movie, and I’ve worked with him before. But it doesn’t feel like we’re similar things. But he’s seen my plays, and in some ways I do feel like there’s some overlap in writing and performing in your own work. But I was working for him as a kind of employee and taking direction from him, so it didn’t feel like it was competitive at all. Not that I would ever feel competitive with him. But, yeah, it’s intimidating, but I feel curious to watch someone like that do what they do very well.

How do you channel your experience as a writer back into your acting? Not only in this role, but on the acting side of your career in general.

I try to meddle with scripts a less than I think I would if I wasn’t writing, because I think I’m able to satisfy my craving for changing dialogue in my own stuff. So I feel very comfortable going into a movie. The movie I did right before the play I’m doing now is a sequel to Now You See Me. There is a lot of stuff in the movie that characters have to do in the movie for plot-related things, the kind of things that I would typically resist because it’s not 100% character-based. Some of that stuff is plot, because it’s a very complicated plot. The characters happen to be very good, too, but because it’s a very plotted movie there’s a lot of stuff that actors would sometimes resist. But I just don’t feel that way anymore. I feel much more comfortable just being part of something, whether it’s my own thing or it’s a movie where there’s explosions and magicians.

#jesse eisenberg #2015 #the end of the tour

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coulson-is-an-avenger · 3 years

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ok fuck im thinking about the “where do you have her?” scene again. good god. he’s so desperate to know she’s okay, what the fuck. my Loki Friggason rights

#i feel like a clown for how much my brain is thinking about this show but hgmnfkgmdmfm wbk #[rattles my cage] HE LOVED HER!!!!! HE NEVER WANTED TO HURT HER!!!! I NEED TO REWATCH THOR 2 IMMEDIATELY #AND ONCE AGAIN [RIPS THE BARS OFF MY CAGE] I HATE THAT HE HAS TO HEAL LIKE THIS I HATE THAT THEY CUT THREE MOVIES OUT OF HIS LIFE #AND HES HAVING TO PROCESS EVERYTHING THROUGH A MOVIE!!!!!!! THAT HE’LL NEVER LIVE???? KNOWING HIS OWN DEATH?????? FUCKING SHUT UPPPPP FUCK #the show is handling him so so well but i am IN the russo’s house #for many reasons but yknow #BESTIES IM GETTING DRAGGED IN AGAIN PLEASE PRAY FOR ME #mossy speaks #loki #loki spoilers #[loudly puts my head in my hands]

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random-yandere-fandom · 3 years

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Hi, I had a good idea to order, if you accept of course! What would happen if Yandere Ciel and Yandere! Alois (together) were transported to our universe (21st century) and with that the reader found them and took them home and took care of them, maybe the boys would explain that they are from another place and the reader believes in them and helps them adapt to this century, being kind and patient with them and of course they had to be a little independent (knowing the basics of making something to eat or taking care of the house) especially when the reader goes out to work or something thus. So, over time, they fall in love with the reader, so what happens next? And what will happen if the boys return to their universe without the reader, maybe their demons have found a way to bring them back to their universe.

Ooh, I love the idea!

Yandere Ciel and Yandere Alois transported to our world

It certainly wasn’t a sight you had expected to see so early in the morning. Two men, dressed very strangely, obviously fighting each other on the side of a road. Their clothes, their accent, even the mannerisms felt totally out of place. Were the two of them part of a theatre group or something?

Still, your gut was telling you something strange was going on and so you decided to approach them, furrowing your brows in question when you caught bits and pieces of the argument. Seeing them both alert at your approach you stopped, inquiring what they were doing and if they perhaps needed help. The one with blue hair answered, or rather, questioned where they were and especially when they were. Now, you’ve watched enough movies that your first thought was Holy shit, time travellers!, before you considered them to be on drugs. Engaging them in a conversation, which made it very clear that Ciel and Alois weren’t really on good terms, you picked up quite a few clues as to who these two were, namely, time travellers. Not that they told you themselves yet, but you wished to believe that, notably because your follow up offer would really and truly put you in danger otherwise.

It takes some time before the two of them warm up to you, but after you had taken them in and cared of them, teaching them some simple housework and basic knowledge with varying degrees of success it was hard not to grow fond of you. For you, it was quite the experience. You had quickly noted that the two of them really weren’t from here and now. You also learned how tiring it is to have two entitled brats trying to one up each other in a childish approach of trying to be better. If it weren’t for their intellect and the way they so easily managed to grasp complicated new concepts you would have guessed that these are children in adult bodies.

For real though, even though Ciel was extremely prideful he was also grateful and so he worked hard to make up for your kindness. Alois on the other hand often had more difficult times and you’re sure that if Ciel wouldn’t keep him somewhat in check your home would have been trashed once and again. The blonde got better over time though, showing his gratefulness through actions and becoming quite clingy, complaining that you should return earlier from work because he doesn’t want to be left alone with Ciel, cue a fight breaking out on who has it worse with the other. It’s better to give the two of them work to concentrate on while you’re away.

Alois notices his feelings for you first, he has grown dependent on you and he really wouldn’t mind staying at your place. He doesn’t try to hide them either, declaring his affections in ways so blatantly open and unashamed that you can’t help but think of it as simple gratefulness mixed with dramatics for the fun of it. He doesn’t try to deny it either, the thought of you rejecting him otherwise and the more than annoyed looks from the Phantomhive enough to keep his advances going.

In that process, Ciel will realise his feelings with the help of good old jealousy. The twist in his heart whenever you accept his rival’s admiration, even if you don’t recognise it as such, is enough to make him aware of his own admiration for you. He won’t truly act on it though, too much in the way to act on how his heart wishes him to. Instead he’ll tell himself that it’s just a little crush, nothing much to worry about, even if it’s hard to deny his attraction towards you.

From then on there will be war between the two of them, each compliment and each smile from you remembered and later on shoved into the others face, Alois almost shouting and Ciel replying in snide remarks.

There comes a fateful day where everything changes and it appears in the form of a silent home with empty, cold rooms devoid of the usual live they seemed to hold. As you turn the key behind you, you call out their names, confused at the lack of any notable sound. You will search each room for the two men that have accompanied you in the last few months, worry creeping into your heart as you are the only person in a home used to host three. There is no use though, the two noble men having returned to were they belonged (even if they’d insist that was by your side).

Back with Ciel and Alois, the two of them had appeared back in their respective bedrooms, a worried demon in the one and an annoyed in the other greeting them. Turned out the butlers had worked together to create a method to bring back their masters only to separate once the means were acquired and they were ready to get a hold on their masters.

Alois reacted in tears and yells and sobs and wrath, destroying the room in frustration as he realised he was torn from the person he loved as Claude watched in exasperation. Nothing will calm him down, your name leaving his lips in desperate cries until finally the spider demon relents, suggesting to bring you to his master. Trancy will freeze before replying in utter happiness and hope, tears still streaming down his face, ordering his butler to get started, seeing as there isn’t any time to waste.

Ciel is shocked before he feels his heart clenching, the thought of never seeing you again causing his insides to churn in such an awful manner it’s impossible to not grasp his chest in pain as his butler checks him on injuries. He is quick to think of the solution himself, ordering Sebastian to bring you here, to bring you to him, using whatever god forsaken method he used to get him back in the first place. If he wasn’t sure about his feelings before, he sure as hell is now when he risks having lost you.

It doesn’t matter on who summons you, on who gets his hands on you first. There will be a full blown war between the nobles all the while you’re being kept safe, taught of this world you entered against your will as they will be there for you just as you were for them. The only difference is your utter lack of possibility to return to your own home.

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watchmegetobsessed · 3 years

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THE DEAL

a/n: i literally wrote it in less than a day because i was inspired by a movie... of god, i have issues, but ANYWAYS! this one is a classic friends with benefits to lovers story with so much angst and a grandiose love confession at the end so buckle up, you are in for a treat!! PLEASE PLEASE PLEEEEASE give feedback if you enjoyed it!!

pairing: Harry X Reader

warnings: some, drinking, sexual content, a hell lot of it, angst and messy emotions, it’s a lot!!

word count: 11.8k

masterlist

If your life was some romantic comedy his would be the moment where the camera would zoom on you, your eyes blankly glued to the ceiling, makeup from last night smudged under them as a muscular, inked arm gets thrown across your chest, a snoozing man beside you as you have the internal little monologue.

“You’re wondering how I got into this situation, right? Completely naked with one of my best friends after a night spent with heavy drinking and ending up fucking in his apartment until we both fell asleep.”

Yeah, this is probably what the voiceover would say as the camera would slowly get farther from you, Harry’s sleeping figure coming into the frame while you’re still lying like a damn statue. This was not supposed to happen. Not that it was bad, because oh God! Harry really is as good as his ex-girlfriends gushed to you when you met them on night outs. You could never blame the women for falling for him, he has the charm, the personality, the humor and definitely the looks. If you weren’t you, you’d be one of those girls who would do anything to get his attention just for a split second. But you’re not.

Growing up with a single mother that was repeatedly fucked over by several men, you were taught to be the kind of independent woman who needs no man. Who only uses them for whatever reason and throws them away before they could even realize what’s happening. Feelings could never be involved in the equations, those are just not for you.

For a while you thought you weren’t even capable of feeling anything at all. But the way you cried when your hamster you got for your sixteenth birthday died changed your mind and you realized that you are just saving yourself the time of allowing people to make you develop feelings for them and then give them the chance to break your heart. You’ve seen that happen to your mother enough times to know that you don’t want to go through that. It’s not worth it and why would you risk it all when you could easily get what you need and move on to the next one?

Your friends always joked how you’re gonna be the single aunt to their children later who would take them to clubs and honestly? You’re just fine with that. Because you always thought that while your married friends will be busy with keeping their marriage together with whatever pathetic man they chose to marry, you’ll be living your best life without a worry on the world. That sounds pretty good for you.

There’s no need to make it prettier than what it is, you’ve had a lot of hookups the past years but you always tried to keep yourself in check, have some kind of rules to follow so you don’t hurt yourself or anyone else in the process. One of those were that under no circumstances would you ever sleep with a friend. No matter how badly you want to, no matter if they are begging, it can never happen.

But you broke that rule.

Turning your head to the side you look at Harry’s sleeping face squished into the pillow and you almost wince, because you know that when he wakes up, this gonna hurt like a bitch. He’s gonna freak out, or what’s worse, he’ll want to take it further, take you out on a date… be in a relationship with you! And you’ll have to break his heart because none of those will ever happen.

You and Harry went to high school together and he is one of the very few people you stayed in touch after graduation. Though you grew a little apart when you went to different universities, later on you both somehow ended up in New York and while you’re working as a graphic designer at a magazine, Harry is making good money from writing music for other artists. He’s been one of your closest friends these past years and while you’ve always found him attractive, you should have never let this happen, because it will mess everything up and you didn’t want to lose such a good friend.

Harry stirs in his sleep next to you, his hand squeezing your side before his eyes blink open, green irises finding your wide eyes. He stops for a moment, looking around, taking in his surroundings before his eyes fall closed again.

“Wow, must have been one wild night?” he mumbles into the pillow before a raspy chuckle falls from his lips.

Last night, the two of you and a couple of your mutual friends celebrated that Harry has gotten his biggest deal so far, having to write an entire album for an up-and-coming artist, so you all got pretty wasted, especially you and him. It’s a little blurry how the two of you ended up like this, but you do remember wildly making out hidden somewhere behind the bar before he asked if you wanted to come to his place. You stupid little thing, should have said no…

Groaning, Harry rolls to his back, his arm falling from you as he lies sprawled out next to you.

“The tequila shots. Shouldn’t have had them,” you rasp out, a smirk tugging on his lips at your words. “So, um… we both can agree this was a one time thing, right?”

Harry peeks at you, pushing himself up a bit so his head rests against the headboard. The sheets slide down a bit lower on his body, revealing his toned chest and his several tattoos. Memories of you kissing them eagerly last night flash into your mind and you can only hope you’re not blushing like a school girl.

“What if I don’t agree?” Harry cocks an eyebrow and you almost groan. You knew this was going to happen!

“Harry, I’m not going out with you. You know me, I don’t do that. It’s nice that you think that it could work between us, but I don’t do relationships and I’m not changing my rules, not even for you.”

Harry starts laughing, as if you just said the best joke of the century, his fingers pinching the bridge of his nose. You give him a puzzled look as you sit up, holding the sheets to your chest.

“Who talked about dating, Y/N?” he then asks. “You said last night was a one time thing. We fucked last night. What if that wasn’t the only time we did that?”

You start to put the pieces together, though you’d definitely be sharper if you already had your first coffee of the day.

“Are you trying to start a… friends with benefits thing with me?”

“I mean, you could call it whatever you want. I personally really enjoyed last night and judging from the way you were screaming my name, you did too.” Now you’re for sure blushing. “Why not do it again?”

“This is not a movie, H. I don’t think it’s manageable without ruining our friendship.”

“Have you ever tried something like this?” You shake your head no. “Then how could you know?”

“Have you tried it?”

“Never,” he chuckles. “But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong. We are both cool, smart people. I think we can give it a try and whenever someone is feeling like they had enough, we’re just gonna stop.”

“What if you catch feelings?” you ask, raising eyebrows at him.

“Oh, but what if you fall for me?” he throws the question back with a cocky smirk and you smack his naked chest.

“You know I never do that!”

“I don’t think you can just decide that, but alright,” he chuckles, holding his hands up in defense. “I promise you I won’t catch feelings for you, Y/N. I swear on my…”

“Your mom’s and sister’s life!” you point at him. It’s clear that he thinks it’s silly, but you just keep staring at him until he gives in.

“I swear on my mum’s and my sister’s life that I will not catch feelings for you, Y/N.”

“Alright. And we can end it anytime?”

“Whenever you’ve had enough of me,” he smirks back, so pleased with himself that it’s clear he doesn’t think that could ever happen.

“If you keep that cocky look on your face it’s gonna be a very short deal, Styles,” you warn him, but he just laughs before he quickly pulls you back down to bed, getting on top of you, his hips sinking between your legs and you gasp when you feel that he is already semi-hard.

“Why don’t we get a head start on it then?” he offers, his lips crashing against yours before they travel down your body and soon enough he gives you something that’s a thousand times better than a coffee in the morning.

At first you’re clearly hesitant about it. Not sure if it was a good idea or you just ruined everything between you and Harry, but soon enough you realize that it wasn’t as bad of a decision as you thought it to be.

Harry is the one to call you for the first time, two days after the night you drunkenly hooked up. You’re just leaving the office when he hits you up, asking if you have plans for the night or you’re free to go over to his place. An hour later you find yourself pressed up against the wall of his apartment’s hallway, both of you eager to get each other out of your clothes. Now that it all happens without either of you being drunk, you actually have the chance to think about how good it is with him. He is just the perfect mixture of dominant and soft, knows when to be the boss and when he has to slow down a bit.

He makes you cum three times. Three mind-blowing times, and you also give him two orgasms. You try to make it equal and make it three, but he respectfully says no.

“If you touched my dick again I think I would start crying,” he chuckles jokingly, so you don’t even think about pushing it.

Instead, the two of you order Chinese, have dinner together, talking like you always used to before the deal and then you go home. There’s no awkwardness, no weird situations, not even when you leave. Harry leans closer and for a moment you think he is gonna be corny and kiss you goodbye, but then you feel him smack your ass before pushing you out the door, just like he always did before, joking about how he is gonna charge you rent if you stay any longer.

Nothing has changed, only that you now spend a good chunk of your time together naked, moaning each other’s name before you get back to your usual.

So after that you don’t shy away from reaching out to Harry as well. It becomes a regular thing, the two of you meeting up about two of three times a week. You fuck, hang out a bit and go your separate ways. Slowly, you start to forget about times when you stayed dressed up for more than ten minutes after meeting Harry.

You keep switching between your and his place, but sometimes meet somewhere in the middle. You’ve had sex in a restaurant bathroom, in his car in a parking garage and even in his cousin’s place in Brooklyn. That was a bit odd but still quite pleasing.

Tonight is going to be the first time you’re gonna be out with all your friends and Harry since the deal was made. No one knows about it and you intend to keep it that way.

Once you’re done at work you head home, texting Leticia, another friend from high school to meet you at your place to get ready together. She was Harry’s friend at first, what’s better, she openly hated you at first for some reason.

“You just had a punchable face at fifteen, you can’t blame me,” she used to tell you. It was actually Harry who made the two of you friends and you’ve been close ever since.

You get to your apartment almost at the same time. Leticia starts rambling about her asshole of a boss at the law firm where she works at as you open a bottle of wine to start the evening while you roam through your wardrobe for an outfit.

“Is Leo coming? I owe him a few bucks from last time,” Leticia wonders, digging into your dresser for a pair of tights she can borrow to pair with her leather skirt.

“I think he is, but he is going to be late. He is coming from Staten Island from his dad’s,” you muse, checking yourself out in the red dress you just tried on, not quite pleased with the look, so you quickly work down the zipper and look for something else.

“Um, whose is this?”

Turning around you see that Leticia is holding up a shirt Harry left at yours a few days ago. She is clearly confused about the men’s clothing between your stuff, because you are not one to steal them from the men you sleep with since you don’t really want anything from them to remind you of them.

“Oh, um, that’s… That’s Harry’s. He left it here a few days ago,” you shrug, not making a big deal out of it, but Leticia is nosier than that.

“And why is Harry leaving his clothes around your place?”

“Is that a crime?” you snort, trying to play it cool.

“No, but in what kind of situation did this shirt come off of Harry and end up in your dresser?”

You can’t think of a good answer that would stop her from interrogating you, and the way you’ve just gotten silent is telling her more than words could. She drops the shirt, eyes widening at you and it’s clear that she put two and two together.

“Oh my God! You’re sleeping with Harry!”

“No! I’m… I just—We…”

“You two are totally fucking! What the fuck!” she gasps in complete shock as you pinch the bridge of your nose.

“Let me explain it, alright? W-We hooked up on the night when we went out to celebrate his big album deal.”

“When I couldn’t go, right?”

“Yeah. So we were both very drunk and it just happened. And I really thought it would ruin everything but we somehow ended up making a deal.”

“Jesus, you guys are acting out the Friends With Benefits movie? Who are you, Mila fucking Kunis?”

“It’s not like that!” you defend yourself quickly, but then you realize that it’s just like that so far. “Well, it kind of is, but the ending won’t be like that.”

“Do you really think you can just do it with absolutely no strings?” Leticia sighs, her hands coming to her hips as she stares back at you.

“It’s been going great, so I really think it’s doable. And if any of us decides they had enough, we’ll just call it quits.”

“Yeah, because it’s that easy,” she rolls her eyes. “One of you will catch feelings and someone is gonna end up crying, Y/N.”

“No, that’s not gonna happen,” you shake your head stubbornly. “He promised it won’t happen.”

“Feelings don’t give a shit about promises! I hope you really know what you’re doing, because I don’t want to have to choose between the two of you,” she grumbles before throwing Harry’s shirt back into the drawer, grabbing the tights she’s been looking for.

Leticia doesn’t hold a grudge for the news she just found out, but she surely has gotten you thinking. Is it really gonna end bad? Why can’t there be a scenario where it goes perfectly fine and no one gets hurt? Harry promised it’s gonna be alright and he has been proven right so far, so why are you having second guesses now?

Arriving at the bar the majority of your friend group is already there, including Harry. You sit across him in the small booth, just exchanging a quick smile before the first round arrives and the evening starts. You allow yourself to take a better look at him while he listens to Mitch’s story and you can’t say that you don’t find him hot. He is wearing a vintage, floral printed shirt, the first few buttons left undone, so you have a nice view of his chest and his necklace you’ve felt under your lips so many times before when you were kissing down his body. He keeps twisting and playing with his several rings and it makes you stare at his hands for a tad bit longer than you intended to. God, he looks so damn good, you really just want to fuck him here and now.

You keep changing who goes up to the bar to order and the third round is yours, so sliding out of the booth you go to the bar and wait for your turn. A young, handsome guy is making the drinks and you clearly catch his eyes.

“And what can I get for you, beautiful?” he smirks at you when it’s finally your turn.

“Two vodka sodas, a martini and three vodka cranberries,” you smile back at him with a hint of flirting in your tone.

It’s kind of second nature to you, a few charming smiles and winks have gotten a lot of free things for you in your life and you never miss a chance to use your advances.

“All that for one pretty girl?” he teases you.

“I would be all over the floor if I drank all of it,” you chuckle, pulling your card out of your wallet, tapping it on the terminal as he finishes up the drinks, kindly putting them on a tray so you can easily bring them over to the booth.

“Don’t worry, I would surely pick you up then,” he winks at you, placing the last drink to the tray before you thank him and head back.

As you take your previous seat you notice that Harry is watching you intently.

“What?” you mouth him over the conversation at the table.

“Nothing,” he shakes his head, turning his gaze away, grabbing his drink and focusing back on everyone else.

You go up to the bar two more times, once to ask for some chips and once for some napkins after a drink has gotten spilt onto the table. Every time you exchange a few words with the bartender and you have to admit, he has a great sense of humor paired with his looks.

Sometime later in the evening you decide to switch to water, so you go up to the bar a fourth time, the bartender coming to you right away at this point. As you wait for him to grab you your drink you feel a hand on your lower back. Turning to the side you see Harry standing next to you.

“Hey, want to come to my place after this?” he asks, leaning closer to your ear. His hot breath hits your exposed skin on your neck and a shudder runs down your spine, especially with his hand still on the small of your back.

“You want a rerun of your first time?” you smirk back at him, referring to the drinks you both have had, though it’s definitely not as wild as that night was.

“No, but this dress is making it hard not to want to rip it off,” he bluntly tells you as you glance down at yourself. At last you decided to wear a black bodycon dress that surely shows every dip and curve of your body and apparently Harry has been enjoying the show.

The bartender arrives with your water, his eyes falling on Harry and you see that he is a little taken aback by his presence.

“Hey man, can you get me another one as well? I’ll pay for both,” Harry nods at him and there’s something foreign in his tone that you can’t really put your finger on. The bartender just nods back and goes to grab another water.

“What if I wasn’t in the mood?” you tease him, continuing the discussion where you left it a moment ago.

“Oh, please!” he chuckles smugly. “I saw you eyeing me from across the table, Y/N. I know you are definitely in the mood.”

He is right. So damn right. You’ve been crossing your legs under the table for a while now, feeling your arousal growing every time you saw him run his tongue over his lips or whenever his finger played with the lip of his glass, imagining him doing the same with your body.

Biting into your bottom lip you need to take a deep breath, but when Harry sees your teeth digging into your lip, he loses his patience.

“Or we can just do it now,” he growls lowly, grabbing your hand before he starts pulling you towards the restrooms. You don’t even have the chance to protest, not that you want to.

He is quick to pull you into an empty restroom, locking the door behind the two of you before his lips attack yours, pushing you against the door with vigor and hunger. His hands are already bunching your dress up around your waist and you moan his name when your hips meet and you feel his hard length through his jeans.

“We have to be quick, so no one notices we disappeared,” he pants as he helps you up to the counter, your back hitting the cold mirror behind you.

“Then shut up and just fuck me,” you challenge him and it makes him absolutely feral.

You don’t have time to enjoy it the way you usually do in bed, but the excitement of the situation alone has gotten you so wet that you’re already dripping when he pushes your panties to the side with one hand while his other works on his own pants.

“Fuck, already so wet for me, huh?” he breathes out, his lips brushing against yours before they kiss you fully.

“Just like how you’re rock hard for me,” you grin against his lips, a hand wandering down to his cock as you pull it out of his boxers, stroking it a few times before he pulls a condom out of his back pocket and wraps himself up. “Were you counting on this quickie, Styles?” you ask when you realize that he just had a condom ready on him.

“I knew for sure I’m gonna fuck you tonight, but wasn’t sure how long I’m gonna last,” he grins, capturing your lips again before he pushes himself inside you with no warning, making you both gasp.

“Fuck! Harry!” you moan as he starts moving rapidly, definitely not taking his time like he usually does. He is pounding into you without mercy, panting against your lips as his ring clad fingers are digging into the flesh of your thighs.

“You like that? Like it when I fuck you somewhere public?” he growls, making your legs curl around his hips.

Your hands move up his chest and neck, fingers tangling into his curls and you give them a tug, earning an animalistic grunt from him as he starts going even harder and faster. You’re rapidly getting closer to your orgasm.

“You close?” he pants and you nod. “Come on, cum all over my cock, Y/N.”

A few more thrusts and your walls tighten around his dick, squeezing him as you gasp, riding your high, your head falling backwards, meeting with the mirror behind you. Harry follows you a few pushes later, moaning your name repeatedly before his movements come to a halt and you both take a moment to catch your breath.

When he pulls out you both just quietly clean yourselves up, fixing your clothes and hair so you don’t entirely scream sex with your appearances.

“My offer to come to mine after still stands,” he smirks, running a hand through his hair before you head out.

“Tempting, but I have some work to do in the morning, so no,” you turn him down, stepping out to the dark hallway that leads back to the bar. Harry grabs your hand and pulls you back, his lips smashing against yours, surprising you with his move. He kisses you deeply, sucking on your bottom lip hard before he pulls back.

“What was that for?” you ask out of breath.

“If you’re not coming over, I needed something to have a good night,” he shrugs with a smug smirk before you return to the bar.

You catch the bartender’s look as you finally get your waters and Harry pays for them. You catch the two men eyeing each other for a moment before you and Harry return to the table and you forget about the whole thing.

A Sunday afternoon you’re lounging at Harry’s. You jumped at each other’s bones when you arrived, but now you’re chilling on his couch, watching a series you both wanted to start so you decided to give it a go together. Your leg is lying across Harry’s lap, his hands absentmindedly kneading your thighs. It feels nice, like a massage, especially after how sore he made you earlier, stretching you out more than he usually does with a new pose you tried out.

Your phone chimes next to you and tearing your gaze away from the TV you check to see who just sent you a text. It was one of your coworkers, Anthony, he sent you a raging text about how he still has no idea what to wear to the company party that’s gonna be next Saturday and you realize that you totally forgot about it.

“Shit!” you curse under your breath.

“What?” Harry asks, pausing the show.

“I have this stupid work party next weekend and I totally forgot about it,” you growl, checking your calendar quickly if you can squeeze in a quick shopping spree before Saturday or you’ll have to find something in your closet.

“Aren’t those things nice with a lot of free food and drinks?” Harry wonders.

“Yeah, but I don’t like it, because all my colleagues bring their partners and I’m usually the only single one and they keep trying to set me up with someone,” you roll your eyes even at the thought of having to suffer through another one of those awkward conversations about your love life. Like it’s any of their concern!

“I can go with you if that helps,” he offers and you give him a look over your phone. “What? I’m sure if you brought someone they wouldn’t bug you.”

“But we are not together,” you remind him narrowing your eyes at him.

“They don’t have to know that. It’s a win-win, Y/N. Your colleagues would stop nagging you and I can eat and drink for free,” he smirks, clearly pleased with his little plan.

“I mean… you’re not wrong,” you sigh.

“See? Then it’s settled,” he pats your legs, smirking widely at you, but you’re still not entirely convinced. “Come on, Y/N. It’s gonna be fun!”

“This is so cliché, Harry!” you groan, your head falling back against the arm of the couch. “Pretending to be a couple? Straight out of a damn movie.”

Harry lifts your legs up so he can get out from under them, placing them back to the cushion before he climbs over to you, half of his body pressing onto yours as he squints his eyes at you.

“We can fuck in the bathroom, if you want,” he bluntly offers and you just start laughing at his dirty mind and technique of convincing you. “What? There’s literally no better offer out there. Free food, free drinks and free sex. Really good sex, if I may add,” he points out and you smack his chest lightly.

“Didn’t know you were thinking about charging me for the sex,” you joke.

“Might as well do, baby. Especially if it’s the best you can get,” he smugly huffs and you’d retort something funny, but you get caught up on the name.

“Baby? Since when are you calling me baby?”

“Since we are gonna be a couple next week. Gotta rehearse, baby,” he repeats the nickname and a foreign feeling bubbles in the pit of your stomach. Why is this one little word making you feel things you haven’t before? “And you know what else we can rehearse?” he continues, oblivious to your inner dialogue.

You don’t get to answer upon feeling his hand slide between your legs, fingers gently pressing onto your clothed clit and though you can’t stop a moan from slipping through your lips, you still grab his wrist and pull him away.

“My legs are too sore, I wouldn’t enjoy another round of you pounding into me,” you tell him and you can see the proud glimmer in his eyes that he was the one who got you into this state, though he luckily doesn’t comment on it.

“It doesn’t have to be pounding, then,” he smirks and leaning down he kisses you, taking his time as his hand frees itself from your grip and slides under your shorts and panties, fingers meeting your already throbbing bud.

He repositions himself so one of his thighs are between your legs, his lips never leaving yours as his fingers start drawing circles on your clit, sending pleasure down your body in waves.

“Fuck,” you breathe out against his lips when two of his fingers tease your entrance before pushing all the way inside, curling them between your clenching, wet walls.

“No, we are not fucking right now,” he smirks, never missing a chance to joke around and you want to retort to his comment, but words get caught in your throat when his thumb starts playing with your clit, fingers sliding in and out of you in a steady rhythm.

“So, are we on for Saturday? It’s gonna be fun, hm?”

The little shit is using his fingers to convince you and he has the audacity to ask you questions when you are about to see stars. Sometimes you really do hate how big of a smug fucker Harry is, but it’s hard to feel hatred for him when he is about to make you cum again.

“I-I don’t… Harry!” you gasp when he abruptly pulls his fingers out of you, right when you were so close. “I was about to fucking cum!” you growl, raging eyes meeting his green irises.

“I know,” he chuckles. “Say that you’re in and I’ll make you cum.”

“You motherfu—“

You don’t get to finish, his lips smashing against yours as his fingers return, moving faster than before, quickly pushing you towards the edge again.

“Say it. Say it, Y/N,” he mumbles against your lips as your chest is heaving and you start buckling your hips to meet his movements.

“Fuck… Okay! I’m in, just please make me cum!” you whine, hands gripping his shoulders like your life depends on it.

“Good girl,” he smirks and finishes you off without any more teasing.

You cry out his name, fingers digging into his muscles as you push your thighs together, trapping his hand between them while he keeps fingering you oh so perfectly. He makes sure you ride out the last waves of your orgasm before he pulls his fingers out and without batting an eye, he just licks them and fixes your panties and shorts before returning to his previous position with your legs across his lap, starting the show like nothing really happened.

Saturday morning you’re able to quickly get your nails done and Leticia comes with you, the two of you having brunch together afterwards. You go to a new place near the nail salon and as the waiter arrives with your orders, you notice that he slides a napkin onto the table with a small smile.

Grabbing it you see a phone number scribbled onto it. Normally, you send back a smile and tug the napkin into your purse, but this time you just leave it on the table and decide to ignore it.

“What the hell is up with you?” Leticia asks and glancing up at her you see her gesturing towards the napkin. “You don’t seem too thrilled about the approach which is very unlike you.”

“Yeah, I don’t know. I’m just… not interested,” you shrug, reaching for your fork.

“Not interested? The dude looks like the lovechild of Chris Hemsworth and Johnny Depp. He is exactly your type, what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“I’m just not seeking another hookup right now, that’s it.”

“Oh my God!” Leticia gasps and you give her a puzzled look.

“What?”

“You don’t want other men because of Harry!”

“What? That’s crazy,” you laugh, because she has clearly left her mind at the salon for even thinking that.

“Have you hooked up with anyone else than Harry since you’ve made your little deal?”

“I, uhh… Flirted with the bartender when we were out together.”

“Flirting doesn’t count, not even in relationships.”

“I don’t think many would agree with that, Tish,” you huff.

“Okay, but did you have any interest in fucking someone else?”

“I don’t get it why you are making a big deal out of it. Why would I seek anyone else if I’m perfectly pleased by him?”

“Honey, that’s like… how relationships work.”

“That’s not true,” you shake your head, though what would you know about relationships? Your first and only one was when you were seventeen and it lasted twenty-one pathetic days.

“Are you fucking with anyone else?” She asks, eyebrows raised at you as you shake your head no. “Are you fucking him?”

“Obviously,” you scoff.

“Do you spend time together that doesn’t include sex?”

You are almost quick to say no, but then you realize that would be a big ass lie. Every time he comes over to your place or you’re at his, it’s never just the sex. That’s always primary, but not everything you do. All the dinners, the movies and shows you’ve watched together, when you sit on your tiny balcony with a bottle of wine, talking and laughing like you always did before the deal, something always happens after the sex.

Your silence once again answers Leticia’s question. Reaching over the table she takes your hand in hers, giving it a soft squeeze.

“Girl, you are totally dating Harry.”

Leticia once again manages to put a flea in your ear about this whole Harry thing. You wish she didn’t say a thing, because now you can’t think of anything else than the fact that you really are doing all the things with Harry that people who are dating do.

You get so riled up that you almost cancel on the evening, but you’d hate to have to sit through the evening with your colleagues alone when you said you’d be bringing someone. That would make their usual nagging a hundred times worse. So instead, you suck it up and decide to ignore the issue just for the time being and you get ready.

You were able to find a new dress beforehand, the yellow dress is truly a sight to the sore eyes with the corset-like top and very subtle lace details here and there. It’s a little daring, but everyone goes all out for these parties usually and you definitely don’t want to be underdressed.

Harry texts you that he is in front of the building a little before seven, holding up the taxi he came with so you quickly grab everything you need and head out.

You’re the first one to see him through the glass entrance doors of your building, he is standing next to the car in a simple black suit and a soft yellow shirt underneath. It was actually your idea to match your outfits and he surely understood the assignment, especially seeing his also yellow nails.

Part of you is still hung up on what Leticia told you, but a bigger one is so excited to see him and also very into his look for the evening, that you push your doubts to the back of your mind and step out of the building with a shy smile on your lips as his eyes fall on you and you see his lips part.

“Wow! This dress is… wow!” he breathes out, his eyes raking your frame up and down shamelessly as you walk closer.

“Do you know any other words than wow?” you tease him, biting into your bottom lip.

“Yeah. How about: I would love to bend you over this taxi and take you here and now in this dress?”

Your face heats up immediately, slapping his arm, but then you leave your hand on his bicep and give it a squeeze as your answer: you’d definitely love that if it wasn’t kind of illegal to have sex out on a busy street.

The ignorance in you is so high that you don’t even mind how Harry keeps a hand on your thigh in the car, what’s more, you’re quite liking the warmth of his touch on you. His fingers are gently tapping against the music the driver is playing and he even hums a little along the songs.

“Hey, how is the album writing going?” you ask to break the silence a little.

“Great! They asked for fifteen songs until the end of August, so I have plenty of time, but I’m already done with six,” he beams, and you smile back at him proudly.

“That’s amazing. Can I hear any of them sometime?”

“I mean… if you buy the album?” he chuckles, making you roll your eyes at him. “I’ll see what I can do about that,” he then adds, giving your leg another squeeze before turning towards the window.

The party is just the same as it always is. A luxurious evening to celebrate the company’s success in the past six months, a way to give back to the employees and make them feel appreciated with all the free stuff. It’s nice, but you don’t feel like it’s necessary, people would be happier with a raise after all, than one night of free food and drinks.

Harry holds your hand as you walk in, the majority of the guests already present, music playing and there are several open buffet tables and bars in the gigantic ballroom that was decorated in a forest-like theme just for tonight.

“So you did not lie about bringing a date!” Anthony beams as soon as he sees you, his boyfriend, Pete following him right behind, both of them wearing matching burgundy suits.

“Have I lied to you about anything?” you chuckle awkwardly.

“Plenty of times,” he points out before turning towards Harry. “Hello handsome, I’m Anthony, Y/N’s favorite coworker, and this is my boyfriend, Pete.” They all shake hands, Harry smiling back at them warmly before his hand finds yours again, his fingers lacing together with yours in an instant.

“Nice to meet you. I’ve heard a lot about you, I’m Harry.”

“Oh my! The accent!” Anthony gushes, clearly already a fan of Harry’s. “I was really afraid Y/N just said that she is bringing someone so we would get out of her hair this time.”

“I feel offended,” you give him a look, but he just shrugs it off, even though he is more right than he knows.

“Come on, let’s get you guys a drink, we are all sitting over there!”

Joining all your coworkers at the table, you get a head start on the food and drinks, not shying away from stacking everything you like onto your plate. Talking, mixing and mingling, Harry stays right next to you, charming everyone the two of you meet, earning you some approving looks from your colleagues that usually try to set you up with someone they know. This time, you’re left in peace the moment they see Harry with you, his hand always somewhere on you, holding your hand, the small of your back, your hips or waist or, your personal favorite, the back of your neck under your hair. His presence is uplifting already, but his tiny touches just warm you even more on the inside.

“I have to say, Y/N, you are absolutely glowing!” Dianne, one of the editors compliment you when the two of you are at the bar waiting for your drinks to be refilled. Harry stayed back at the table, deep in conversation with Pete about guitars, from what you could understand from their conversation.

“Oh, thank you!” you chuckle softly.

“This man is for sure treating you well. It’s so great to see you finally finding your person.”

She meant well with her comment, but it’s what brings everything you kept hidden in the back of your head out to the front. Tonight was supposed to be all pretending, making everyone believe something that’s not even there, but then why do you feel like it’s real? Like you fooled yourself with everyone else as well?

Your eyes fall back to Harry at the table, who is intently listening to something Pete is telling him and as if he had a sixth sense, his eyes snap at you, a smile stretching across his pretty face at an instant that makes you stomach dance again, heart beating oddly fast.

What is happening to you? This cannot be real, you can’t be having feelings, especially not for Harry. No, you do not allow that for yourself, emotions are off limits for you, because if you fall for someone that gives them the chance to leave you and break you and you’ve seen what it does to a woman. You got enough of the suffering through your mother and you vowed not to let it happen to you. And not even Harry Styles will change that. This is about sex and nothing else, no feelings are involved and that will not change. You won’t let it.

Excusing yourself from Dianne you quickly go back to the table, the refills long forgotten as you take your seat next to Harry. His hand instantly finds your leg as he looks at you with a sweet smile at first that turns into slight confusion.

“Thought you went for a refill?”

“Forget the drinks,” you shake your head, leaning closer to his ear. “You promised me bathroom sex.”

You feel the shift in him right away, how he bites into his bottom lip, his bright green irises darkening at your words, his hold on your leg tightening. His gaze flickers to your eyes and you want to devour him, you want him to take you here and there to prove you that this is all it’s about: sex.

Clearing his throat he mumbles a lame excuse as he pulls you from your chair, tugging you towards the restrooms, you try to keep up with his pace in your heels, but you also can’t wait for him to slam you against the door and fuck you quick and hard.

As soon as you’re locked away from the party in one of the bathrooms, your lips collide with his as he pushes you up against the door, a leg coming between your thighs and you can’t stop yourself from grinding on him.

“Fuck,” he rasps out, hands cupping your jaw as he angles your head just right while your hands are already traveling down his body to reach his pants, eager to get them undone as fast as possible.

However the sudden rush and desperation catches Harry’s eyes and he grabs your hands, stopping you mid-action.

“Hey, everything alright?” he asks, out of breath, concern filling his eyes.

“I just need you to fuck me,” you bluntly reply, but he doesn’t move.

“Okay, but why do you look so shaken up? Did something happen?”

“Harry, stop babying me! I said I’m fine, I just want you to fuck me!” you snap, losing your patience. Not sure if it’s with him or with yourself though.

“You’re obviously not fine! You are snapping at me for being decent and making sure you’re okay!” Harry steps away from you, the moment completely ruined as all physical contact ends with him, his eyes staring back at you in disbelief and you feel like a ticking bomb that’s about to explode.

“It’s not your concern if I’m okay or not. We have a deal, just go with that and leave the rest to me!”

“But above the deal we are friends too. I’m not gonna just… fuck you senseless when you’re obviously upset about something. You’re not in the right mindset.”

“Oh my God, stop being so fucking nice! Stop making these grand gestures and stop pretending like you give a fuck!” You raise your voice and it surely surprises him, but he is still more concerned than angry at your outburst.

“What do you mean pretending? I do care about you! Is that a fucking crime now?!”

“It is because it is for the wrong reasons!” you retort, feeling your throat closing up at the same time. Oh God, you hope you won’t start crying, that will make it even worse. “I think you are taking this pretending a little too far tonight. We are not a couple, this is not real, Harry,” you remind him.

He stares back at you for what feels like eternity and you wish you could read his mind, because you can’t read anything from his eyes, he just stands there like a statue and you feel panic crawling up your spine, slowly digging its claws into your flesh.

And then he finally breaks his silence.

“And would it be so bad if it was real?”

You can’t help a sob that emits from you, feeling like your guts are in a tight grip by his words. This is exactly what you didn’t want to happen.

“No, take that back!” you whine.

“I’m not taking it back! Y/N, what we’ve been doing these past weeks is exactly what a relationship is like and you didn’t seem to have a problem with it until a label was put on it. It doesn’t have to change anything!”

“But it is! And you know I don’t do this!”

“Don’t do what? Feelings? You don’t get to choose that!” he chuckles bitterly.

“I do! I fucking do! And I chose not to have them so… this is ending here, because you clearly caught feelings,” you pant in desperate need of getting out of the bathroom, but when you are about to open the door Harry’s hand snaps against it, keeping it closed. You rest your forehead against the cool surface of it, feeling Harry stand so close to you behind, his chest is touching your back.

“Don’t just walk away, we are in the middle of a conversation,” he growls, his voice filled with anger and warning.

“I don’t have anything to say to you,” you whisper, shaking your head as you turn around and face him, your back pressing against the door.

“But I do,” he simply replies. “Why do you think you can just run away from feeling anything for the rest of your life? Why would it be so bad if you fell for someone, huh? I know you do have feelings, I know you well, Y/N. You’re not some cold hearted jerk, you are a caring and loving person, so why won’t you let yourself be happy?”

“I am happy the way I am, have you thought about that?”

“No, you’re not. I’ve known you half my life, I know that you want to be cared for, you want to be loved and cherished, yet you push away everyone who wants to give you that.”

“Because it’s not that easy, Harry!” you snap at him. “It’s never just the lovey-dovey shit! Feelings come with hurt and pain and heartbreaks and I don’t need that! I can’t handle that!”

“It’s not always the case! But if you never put yourself out there, you’ll never find the happiness you’re seeking!”

“Well, for me, it doesn’t worth it! I don’t want to fall for someone, plan my future with them and open up to them completely only for them to fall out of love with me one day and decide they don’t want anything to do with me! I don’t want to give anyone the chance to hurt me like that, because I’ve seen what it does to a person! I witnessed it all, Harry! I will not be a victim to that!”

You’re full on shouting, tears rolling down your cheeks at this point. You are letting everything out that’s been bottled up deep inside of you all this time. Nothing can make you believe in the fairytale that will never become your reality and you rather save the time and pain than experiment with it.

What really hurts is that now you are losing your friend. Your best friend. Because the way Harry is looking at you makes it obvious that you’ll never be like before the deal. The hurt, the shock, the panic and the anger, it all mixes in his wide-eyed gaze and it’s like a knife into your chest.

“You promised me, Harry,” you sob, voice now barely more than just a whisper. “You swore you wouldn’t catch feelings but you lied!”

“I didn’t lie,” he simply answers clenching his jaw. “I said I wouldn’t catch feelings for you, but truth is… I already had them. I was already in love with you, have been for a while. And you know what? I think you love me too, but you’re just too afraid to admit it. I know it because I can feel it. The way you touch me, look at me, the way you talk to me, it’s written all over you, but you choose to ignore it.”

“You don’t know shit,” you shake your head vigorously. “You think you know it, but you don’t.”

“Stop denying it, Y/N! You can’t just switch it off! Loving is not as horrendous as you think it is! Yes, it comes with pain too, but the good is always there to make you forget about it. You have to give it… you have to give yourself a chance!”

“I don’t have to do anything, Harry,” you sass back, pushing him away so you have the chance to sneak out of the room before he could stop you. But he doesn’t let it end that easily. Running after you he catches your wrist before you could get out of the hallway, pulling you back.

“Don’t just fucking walk away, Y/N! We need to talk about this!”

“No, we don’t. And I’m done with this. Done with… you.”

It hurts. The words rolling off of your tongue hurt, but you choose to ignore it once again as you shake his hand off of yourself, marching back to your table to grab your bag and leave.

“What do you mean you’re done with me? Don’t do this, Y/N! Let’s just fucking talk!”

Harry keeps trying to stop you, but you’re determined to leave. Your coworkers notice the little scene, but you don’t pay it any attention as you head out of the room, knowing well they’ll talk shit about you behind your back as soon as you’re out of the building.

“Y/N for fuck’s sake just stop already!” Harry snaps, grabbing your arm once again when you’re outside, pulling you back, but you’ve had enough.

“No! I’m not stopping, you need to stop! Stop trying to make yourself believe this is anything more than just the deal we made! It’s not and it will never be, because you don’t get to have the privilege of hurting me, nobody gets to do that!”

“Who said I want to hurt you?! That’s the last thing I would want to do! It’s not as cruel as you imagine it, Y/N. I know that your mum had a terrible love life when you were younger, but that’s not the only side to love! There are so much good about it, so much to fight for and endure with the bad sides, you can’t just throw all of it out the window because you decided love is just not for you!”

“I can and I will. Watch me!” you bite back, tearing your arm out of his hold as you step to the side of the pavement and wave a taxi down.

“Please don’t get into that car, Y/N, let’s talk!”

“We talked enough,” you huff as the car stops in front of you and you hop inside, but just as you are about to close the door Harry once again stops you.

“Y/N, I love you. Please don’t do this!” he begs, so much sorrow and pain radiating from his face and for a moment you fall weak. You almost reach out to him, because part of you hates seeing him like this, especially knowing that it’s because of you. You just want him to be happy, but you know it’s not gonna be with you. You can never give him what he wants and needs. He’ll be better off without you.

“I’m sorry,” you choke out before pulling the door closed and the car drives away. Turning around you see him stand on the pavement, completely broken and shaken, his hands tangling into his hair as he angrily kicks at the dirt before the car melts into the traffic and he falls out of your sight.

You did it for your and Harry’s sake. It had to be done and you are both better off this way. At least that’s what you’ve been trying to convince you to believe.

But why does it hurt so badly then?

Harry tried you calling a million times after you left him at the party, he even came after you and banged on your door for thirty minutes straight, begging you to let him in and just talk, but you didn’t even answer him. Just waited until he left before you curled up in the shower and cried for about an hour.

The calls and texts kept coming in the next few days, but after a while he gave up. He got nothing but silence from your side and one last, long ass text that you didn’t even read because you knew you’d just start crying again, he finally gave up.

You were left alone with all the pain and emptiness and you realized how big part of your life Harry played before. Somehow, everything reminded you of him and you couldn’t do anything without wishing he was with you.

You truly believed that time will heal you, that soon you’ll realize that you made the right decision, but days turned into weeks and nothing changed, you just learned to live with the pain. You stopped going out with your friends and not just because you were afraid of seeing Harry, but because you genuinely couldn’t get yourself to leave the house. Your evenings consisted of binge eating all the ice-cream you could find in your freezer and watching reruns of your favorite shows, but nothing could really take your mind off of Harry.

Day after day you cancelled on Leticia as well until she had enough of your hermit life. She got fed up watching you sink into your pit of sorrow and decided to take things into her own hands and not let you run away from her.

A Friday evening you’re doing what you’ve been doing for weeks now, lying on your couch in sweatpants, scrolling through Netflix when there’s a knock on your door. You wait, hoping whoever it is will think you’re not home and go away, but another obnoxious knock rips through the apartment and you growl.

“I know you’re in there bitch, open the fucking door!” Leticia shouts from outside and you curse the day you became friends with her. Maybe you would have been better off as enemies.

“I’m busy!” you call out, but make your way to the front door anyway, opening it to reveal her.

“Yeah, I can see that. Busy with being a bag of trash,” she comments on your appearance, walking inside without an invitation.

“Jeez, you really did wake up today and chose violence,” you mutter under your breath as you shut the door closed.

Leticia is quick to turn the TV off and open up the windows as you just stand there, not sure what she is doing here.

“When did you clean this place? And when was the last time you took a shower?” she asks, her nose scrunching when she takes a better look at you.

“Okay, did you come here to offend me? Because I don’t need that so please leave.”

“No, I’m here to beat some sense into you.”

“Good luck with that,” you scoff, taking your spot on the couch once again. You reach for the remote with the intention of turning the TV back on, but Leticia stands in front of the screen, blocking the device completely as she stares down at you with a disapproving look, arms folded on her chest.

“You’re acting like a child, Y/N. Avoiding everyone and being mad at the whole world, are you an emo teenager now or what?”

“I’m not mad at the whole world!”

“Okay, then you’re mad at just Harry, still, it’s a mistake.”

“I’m not mad at only Harry either,” you admit truthfully.

“Who else then?”

“Myself?” you mumble, eyes falling closed as you slide lower down on the couch.

“That makes the two of us, but why are you mad at yourself?” she asks, finally moving from her spot in front of the TV as she sits next to you on the couch, crossing her legs as she waits for your answer.

“Because…” you start with a sigh, opening your eyes, but you avoid looking at her, instead, you stare at the wall across you. “Because I can’t fucking stop thinking about him,” you admit and your lips start trembling instantly, just like every time you think about him. “I miss him so fucking badly, Tish! I miss our conversations, I miss his stupid jokes, I miss him raiding my fucking fridge and I miss…”

You bite your tongue, not wanting to admit the next thoughts loudly. Because you miss kissing him, you miss holding him and be held by him. You miss sex too, but you miss the tiny things even more, the way his lips feel against yours, how he smiles against them when you whimper his name and you miss the awkward little things the most. When he accidentally bumps his head against yours or when say random shit right before he pushes into you just to make you laugh, or when he leans in for a kiss but misses it and ends up kissing your nose or just the corner of your mouth. You miss everything about him and you hate him for that, but you hate yourself even more. It feels like your own conscious has betrayed you.

Shutting your eyes closed you let the tears roll down your cheeks as Leticia scoots closer and wraps her arms around you, cooing soothingly at you.

“It’s alright. It’s totally normal, Y/N.”

“It is not! Not for me at least!” you protest pulling back, wiping your cheeks with the back of your hands.

“Stop with the bullshit already!” she growls in annoyance. “You are not some kind of ice queen who is incapable of loving! You love me, right?”

“Yeah, but that’s different,” you roll your eyes.

“Not really. You love your other friends as well, right?” You nod. “And you love your mom,” she adds and you nod again. “Would you do anything for these people?”

“Of course.”

“Do you like spending time with them? Do you care about them in all kinds of ways?”

“Yes,” you sigh, fumbling with the hem of your shirt.

“Do you feel the same way about Harry? Do you care about him, would you do anything for him to make him happy?”

“Yes,” you whisper truthfully.

“Then don’t complicate it. You love him, no big deal! And he surely loves you back, because he told you, right?” You nod. “Then pull your head out of your ass and just let yourself be happy for once.”

“Why are you coming with this too? I was happy on my own too!”

“No, you were getting by,” she points it out. “You were doing good, but you weren’t… a whole. Harry gave you everything you missed, but for some fucked up reason you think it’s the end of the world to depend on someone else partially when it comes to your happiness. Which can be a smart thing, it’s important to be your own person and be independent, but sometimes we need some help from others. From people that love us and we love them back. It’s not a crime, Y/N.”

“No, but it’s gonna end up with me being heartbroken.”

“You already are,” she ruthlessly replies, bringing your attention to what you’ve been trying to ignore all this time. “Hate to break it to you, but this is what that feels like. So why not just go with it, you already felt the pain, now you could go for the good parts as well.”

“I don’t know if I can do it, Tish,” you breathe out, resting your head against the back of the couch. “Even if I did it, I know I would mess it up and hurt him or maybe he’ll do something stupid and hurt me and I don’t think I can handle that.”

“So what? It’s part of the deal. And besides, you’re already hurting each other, so you better get your shit together,” she scoffs, poking your side playfully.

It’s part of the deal. Are you ready to make a new deal? One that you’ve been avoiding your whole life? Are you ready to cut yourself open for someone else and just hope for the best?

Probably not. And probably you’ll never be. But your tactics didn’t succeed so far, you still ended up in pain so why not give it a chance? Even if it’s gonna be the hardest thing you’ve ever done?

“Do you think he hates me now?” you ask quietly, peeking at her scared of her answer.

“He is a bit mad at you for shutting him out, but he could never hate you. That man loves you so much, it’s almost disgusting,” she admits, making you chuckle. “Just… be honest with him and talk to him. You need it. You both need it.”

Harry’s fingers strum against the chords again, trying to get the tune right, but he fails again, a frustrated growl leaving his lips as he lets his head fall forwards. He’s been trying to finish the song for hours, but it still hasn’t come together the way he imagined and his patience is running short.

It’s been hard for him to focus on writing, with you on his mind all the time, everything seems like a hard task. He has written plenty of songs since the night at the party, but he could never use them for his job. One, because they are so fucking sad and depressive and they asked for upbeat hits from him, and two, because they are all so personal, he could never give them to someone else. He can’t let anyone else sing the lines he wrote to you, but you’ll probably never hear them.

Giving up on finishing the song today, he puts the guitar aside and calls it a day. Walking into the kitchen he opens the fridge and realizes that it’s completely empty aside from a bottle of ketchup and a single banana. He’s been such a mess lately, he forgot to go grocery shopping yesterday. Huffing to himself he grabs the banana and reaches for his phone to order something right when his doorbell rings. He is not expecting anyone, but Mitch has been popping in every few days to check in on him since everything that went down with you, so Harry is convinced it’s him again.

“Great timing, do you want Italian or Chinese?” he asks, walking up to the door, but as he swings it open he freezes when he sees you standing on the doormat. “Y/N…” he breathes out as if he was seeing a ghost.

“Hi! I-I hope I’m not bothering you o-or anything…” you ramble nervously.

“No! No, come on in!” He snaps out of his trance and steps aside, letting you walk inside. A feeling of nostalgia hits you right away as you think back at the last time you were here. Just a few days before the party, when everything was different.

“I’m sorry I came without asking, I just… I would say I was nearby, but that’s not true,” you chuckle anxiously as the two of you walk into the living room. You notice that his place is a little messier than usually, but it’s not nearly as bad as yours was before you did a deep cleaning yesterday after Leticia’s comments on it.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it. What… What brought you here?”

“I, uhh… I’ve been thinking. A lot. And I have a few things I need to tell you.”

For a moment Harry’s stomach drops, because he thinks you came here to tell him off one more time for breaking your deal, for everything that happened at the party. He is already bracing himself to just let you lash out on him, but it never comes. And when you speak up again, he nearly faints.

“I love you.”

It’s a strong start, definitely a surprising one. Harry’s lips part and his eyes widen, his look almost comical, but you’re not laughing, not now. You have a lot to tell him and you can only hope he won’t throw you out after everything is said.

“I love you and I’m sorry it took me so long to stop ignoring it, but I promise you I’m done with that. And I’m sorry for everything I said to you that night, I was… mad and confused and I didn’t know how to deal with everything at once. I was delusional and ignorant and… a fool for thinking that I could just choose to never have feelings, especially for you,” you add with a tiny, nervous chuckle. “You were right. About everything. That I can’t live without ever putting myself out there and risking it. And I think deep down I knew that, but I was so afraid of getting hurt that I made myself believe I’m good on my own, but I’m not. Not entirely, to be precise. Because sometimes it is worth risking it and… and I realized that you are the person for me who is worth this risk.”

The tears are already blurring your vision, for the millionth time these past weeks, but it feels right now. Opening up to Harry and telling him all of this is hard, but with every spoken word you feel lighter and more relieved.

“I’m sorry if I made you think that I don’t love you, because I do. I really do. You are my best friend and these past weeks have been hell for me without you. I was so keen on avoiding a heart break that I ended up breaking my own heart,” you chuckle bitterly, the first tear running down your cheek.

Harry reaches out and wipes it away with his thumb and you involuntarily melt into his touch. You’ve been starved for it and now it feels like home. When you look up and your eyes meet his, you see that they are red too and it just makes you want to cry even more.

“I didn’t mean to hurt you, I just thought that I was doing the right thing, but I was so far from that. So I’m really sorry and I understand if you don’t want to see me again for the way I acted. I was… a horrible friend and… an even worse girlfriend.”

“Girlfriend?” he asks quietly.

“Yeah. Because you were right, we were more than just the deal and… if you choose not to throw me out after this, I would… I would love to give it a try with you. I want to be the girlfriend you deserve and though I’m sure I’ll mess it up a lot of times, I promise I’ll try my best, becau—“

He makes your rambling stop in the best way possible, lips smashing against yours as he cups your tear-soaked cheeks in his warm palms, pulling you close to him, your arms curling around his waist immediately.

Harry has kissed you several times before, but none of them compares to this. It’s messy and salty from both your tears, but you wouldn’t change a thing about it, the way his lips move against yours, tongues meeting, devouring each other, making up for the lost time and full of promises for the future. You hold onto his shirt at his back for dear life as he just keeps kissing you over and over again until you both run out of breath.

“So, does this mean you’re not throwing me out?” you joke, breaking the silence once you’ve pulled back.

“Fuck no,” he laughs, pecking your lips a few more times before his lips meet your forehead. “You are not leaving this place, ever. You’re trapped,” he adds to the joke and you break out in a relieved laughter.

“Wait, so I’m stuck with you now?” you whine playfully, but all you get is another kiss on the lips, hard and demanding.

“Yeah, forever, baby. You won’t get rid of me now, not after the speech you just gave me,” he smirks down at you, his arms coming to curl around your shoulders as he keeps you pressed against him tightly. “I love you.”

“I love you too,” you reply, your heart soaring as you hear those words again from him, this time, not even trying to dodge them in any way. In fact, you just want to hear him say it every minute over and over again for the rest of your life. “And I’m happy to be stuck with you,” you add with a shy smile as his grin widens at your words.

“Yeah? So we have a new deal then?” he teases, kissing the corner of your mouth.

“Absolutely.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

#harry #styles #harry styles #harry styles smut #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles fanfic #harry styles oneshot #harry styles one shot #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst #harry styles x you #harry styles x reader #harry styles x y/n #harry styles au #harry styles imagine

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erwinsvow · 3 years

Text

𝐢 𝐜𝐚𝐧'𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐥𝐩 𝐦𝐲𝐬𝐞𝐥𝐟

for the 𝐝𝐞𝐛𝐚𝐮𝐜𝐡𝐞𝐝 collab <3

summary: you've always been fond of your step-brother, jean, despite how much he tries to avoid spending time with you. he finally reaches his breaking point when he sees you talking to eren, though.

warnings: step-cest, slight manipulation (reader), possessive behavior, teasing + edging, fingering, oral sex (m receiving), degradation, rough sex, creampie, jean is a good boy and reader is a fiend

author's note: i hope everyone likes this!!! i'm thinking about creating a step-cest series, let me know who should be next! tagging the lovely @yeagerslut & sending a big thank you for creating this collab! <3

Jean can never really peel his eyes away from you, no matter how hard he tries. At first it was subtle glances, like staring at the exposed skin of your supple thighs from his place beside his mom, when she was first introducing you and your father to him.

His first thought, besides the fact that it’ll be nice to have a sibling in the house with him every once in a while, is that your dress is incredibly short. So short that he wonders how you’re allowed to leave the house in something like that. If it was up to him, he wouldn’t let you, that’s for sure.

He quickly remembers that it’s not up to him, and that it’s not his place to be worrying about the length of your hem. Jean tries to suppress the strange, sudden burning feeling in his chest when he thinks about you wearing something as short as that when he has his friends over. No, that won’t be allowed.

He’ll have to tell someone about it, at some point, because he can’t stand the unusual jealousy he feels stirring at the idea of one of his friends looking at you while you’re wearing that.

His thoughts are cut short when his mother tells you two to get acquainted, while your dad and her head to the kitchen to prepare dinner. Jean almost doesn’t want them to leave, doesn’t want to be left alone with you and those legs and that dress, but he doesn’t have any say in the matter.

Your first words to your new step-brother are carefully calculated. In fact, you've been deciding everything carefully. The way you did your hair, the dress you’ve chosen that’s much too short for a family dinner but it’s not like someone can stop you, even the pink lip gloss you reapplied in the car before entering the house. Everything has its purpose, its place, with one goal in mind: see how long it takes for Jean to crack.

“I’m so excited to finally have a big brother, Jean!” you let out in a cheerful, chirpy voice that doesn’t match your insidious thoughts at all. You close the bridge separating you two with a few steps, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling him down into a hug.

It’s so sudden, so unforeseen that he stumbles a little, letting his tall figure be pulled by your efforts and arms wrapping around your waist for support. And before he knows it, the sweet smell of your perfume is invading all his senses and leaving him with nothing to think about except you.

He takes it all in, the lingering scent of shampoo in your hair, something fruity, he thinks off-hand, the feel of your soft skin on the back of his neck, your cheek against his, but especially the way your breasts feel against his chest.

He pulls away before you want him to, and you begrudgingly allow him to, recognizing what a challenge it’ll be. But you’re always up for a challenge.

The first few months pass by in the blink of an eye for you, and dragging on and on for him. Jean tries to avoid interactions with you since that first meeting, but it’s hard to when you’re living in the same house as him. Even harder when your bedroom is right next to his, his mother offering up his assistance to help you move boxes and get settled while she and her new husband go out to dinner.

It’s ridiculous, the way he flushes bright red when he opens boxes and suitcases filled with clothing he doesn’t want to look at, all short skirts and sun-dresses and delicate panties that he tries and fails not to stare at.

You keep your gaze away, knowing exactly which suitcase you had given him to unpack, while you organize books on the shelves of the room and sort knick-knacks.

“Won’t it be nice sharing a wall?” you comment, adjusting a frame on your nightstand and not meeting Jean’s eyes. “I think it’ll be fun to have you so close.”

Jean chokes on the water he was drinking, gasping for air and trying to process your words all at once, when you finally turn around and smile. A smile that he thinks should be illegal, given the way it’s innocence personified when you’re actually a little devil.

He leaves a little bit after that, calling out that he’s not hungry when you knock on his door for dinner, but you don’t miss the way he sounds breathless, or the panties missing from your drawers.

Every challenge gets easier, right?

It doesn’t take long for your behavior to get a little out of hand, especially when the two of you have so much alone time together. Your parents are gone all the time, frequenting dinner parties and double dates, and not coming back until late at night.

Jean tries his best to keep away. While he had once been the friend whose house was always available for sleepovers, movie nights, and the like, he was now keeping everyone away. Every time your parents’ car left the driveway, Jean followed suit, either hopping into Connie’s Jeep or walking the short distance to Sasha’s place and leaving you alone.

He was hoping no one would notice, but of course someone did, and of course that someone was Eren.

“We can’t do my place again,” Sasha says, absentmindedly reaching for the bag of chips which Connie yanks out of her reach. “My dad’s having people over.” A swat to the back of Connie’s head gets her back the snack quickly.

“How come we can’t do Jean’s place like usual?” Eren asks, reclining back in his seat and enjoying the panicked expression on Jean’s face. “There something wrong with that new sister of yours?” Jean chokes back a cough.

“No.”

“Does she always have friends over, or something?”

“No.”

“Then it’s settled,” Eren says, bringing his hands together. “Jean’s place it is.” Shit, Jean. Better come up with something quick.

“We- we can’t do my place!” he sputters out much too loudly, meeting the gaze of every person in the room.

“Any reason why, Jean-bo?” Eren asks.

“I- we- what if she’s not okay with having a bunch of loud-mouthed idiots sleeping over?” Shitty, but it’s the best he can think of when he’s so concerned with keeping everyone away from you.

If you behave like that with parents in the house, how are you gonna behave with his friends around? He doesn’t wanna take the chance to find out.

“How about you call and ask, dumb-ass?” Connie suggests, shoving his phone at him and waiting with a confused look. Jean lets out a defeated sigh, knowing how this phone call will go.

Your loud, chirpy “I’m perfectly fine with that, silly! I’ve been waiting to meet your friends..” can be heard through the phone and answers Eren’s question.

Jean searches for a reason, any reason really, to keep this sleepover from happening, but realizes that he’s failed miserably when all his friends appear, clad with pillows and overnight bags, on his front door. “So,” Eren begins, with a wolfish grin on his face that Jean wants to punch right off, “Where’s the sister? It’s only polite to say hi, right?”

As if you’d been waiting for the cue, you poke your head out from the living room, that very same innocent and sweet smile gracing your face.

“Hi,” you, stepping out to greet his friends in the foyer. “It’s so nice to meet you all.”

Jean immediately regrets the fact that he never had that conversation with you about the length of your dresses. It always sat in the back of his head somewhere, though it was incredibly easy to dismiss when you would come sit next to him on the couch, dress riding up frequently and exposing more skin that he somehow always found himself entranced by.

Today the dress of choice is yellow, and though it does, in fact, cover everything it needs to, it doesn’t leave much to the imagination either. Jean almost feels like a schoolboy again, blushing at exposed shoulders and thighs, but he can’t help it when you’re clinging right to his side as you greet his friends.

“I’m Eren-”

“Hi, I’m Connie-”

“Ignore these two, I’m Sasha-” All meet each other at once. You let out a laugh at your step-brother’s funny friends, glancing up to see his expression, but all you see are signs of anger. Your smile dims a little, but picks right back at up when you notice the way Eren looks at you, and the way Jean looks at Eren.

A plan is working itself into creation in your head before you can help it, deviousness taking a hold on you as you smile brightly in favor of Eren over Jean. Your step-brother’s been keeping his distance all this time, but you’re about ready to force his hand.

You don’t miss the way Jean’s jaw tightens, his hand clenching into a fist at his side as he guides the group to the living room. Your original plan changes quickly, following them into the space and taking your usual place on the couch as you scan the various video games laid out.

“Eren, will you sit with me?” you ask in a gentle tone, one that Jean is all too familiar with. “I don’t know this game, can I watch you play first?”

“Don’t you have work to do, or something?” Jean blurts out without thinking, his only thought centered around getting you out of the room and as far away as he can.

“What work? It’s summer,” you reply, watching your step-brother’s cheeks turn red.

You’re not helping matters for Jean, as he watches Eren sit where he usually does, teeth clenched so hard his jaw hurts. He doesn’t think he could get more angry, until he notices Eren’s hand move to your knee, squeezing quickly but lingering entirely too long. There must be steam coming out of Jean’s ears at this point, watching this interaction between you two.

“Yeah, Jean, she can stick around to watch. Anything for your little sister, right?” “I’m not that much younger than you guys, you know,” you reply with a laugh, adjusting your position on the sofa and purposefully lifting the skirt of your dress for a second before letting it settle. If someone were looking, which both Jean and Eren were, they’d catch a glimpse of black panties, and they both did.

Jean is seeing red now, standing up without realizing why, ready to yank Yeager away from you, when the doorbell rings again. It stops Jean in his tracks. “That must be Marco,” Sasha reminds, looking up from the games to glance at Jean with confusion. “Aren’t you gonna go get that?”

“Y-yeah. I’ll be right back.” Jean locks eyes with you as he leaves the room, and you dejectedly sigh, leaning away from Eren. It’s no fun to mess around with another guy if Jean’s not there to see.

He guides Marco into the living room, and you greet him with a quick smile before giving your full attention back to Eren.

The next few hours are fun for you, and unbearable for Jean. Every time he spared a glance to you, you were pouring over Eren, asking questions about the game and insisting on clarification, leaning in much too close and supporting yourself on his shoulder as he explained another trivial rule to you.

Jean didn’t like any of it, not the way you laughed sweetly and played with your hair while talking to Eren, not the way your legs were on display and Eren’s sleazy hands kept finding its way back to them, none of it. What he couldn’t stand, though, was how you didn’t shy away from his touch and found any and every way to keep it going.

He’s at his limit when you go to your bedroom after dinner to change into pajamas, knowing what to expect from your nightwear. If he’s lucky, you’ll pick a big t-shirt and shorts, but he’s seen first-hand the silky slips and cotton sets you prefer to sleep in.

Jean doesn’t think he can handle the look on Eren’s face if you come down the stairs wearing one of those, so he lets his anger do the thinking for a minute when the others are fighting over snacks and who gets the couch versus the floor.

Eren’s waiting near the bottom of the stairs, looking at something on his phone when Jean approaches and glances quickly to make sure you’re still in your room.

“You better knock it off, Yeager, I’m serious,” he says, trying to contain his anger and keep his voice down. His words come out in a low grumble that he barely recognizes, body stiff and trying his best to intimidate Eren. It doesn’t seem to be working. “Knock off what?” Eren questions nonchalantly, amused that his suspicions were proving to be correct. Looks like Jean had a little thing for his step-sister after all.

Jean’s eyes unwittingly flit to the top of the stairs again, before he forces his gaze back to Eren, but the quick gesture isn’t missed by his so-called friend.

“Oh, I see. You want me to stop being so buddy-buddy with your step-sister, huh? You better tell that to her first, you know. She’s been all over me since the minute I met her.”

The sly smirk playing on his lips only makes Jean want to cave his face in all the more.

“You better watch it, you son of a-” Eren clicks his tongue to interrupt Jean.

“Come on now, Jean, you can’t really expect me to stop. I mean, it’s not like she’s my sister, right?” Eren says, with a strange look in his eyes as though he was tempting Jean to blow his cover.

Eren walks away to rejoin everyone in the living room, leaving Jean seething by the stairs and you in your bedroom, pressed against the door and clinging onto every word.

All night you had known Jean was getting agitated by your constant flirting and touchiness with Eren, but he hadn’t been close to cracking, or so it seemed. The fact that he even confronted Eren had your heart pounding in your chest, wondering if tonight might finally be the chance you had been waiting for. You hear Jean’s heavy foot steps walk away, and you decide that it’s all or nothing, now.

You leave your room and close the door gently, dressed in a pink camisole and shorts that were sure to get Eren’s attention for long enough for Jean to finally crack.

Just as you began the descent down the stairs, you heard footsteps coming back and were greeted with Jean at the foot of the stairs.

The look in his eyes was something you hadn’t seen before, something entirely different from the reserved, hesitant Jean you had gotten so used to.

No, this Jean was someone else, a mix of want and desire and shame pooling in his pretty eyes, looking at you as though you were the prey he had finally cornered.

Before you know it, Jean is in your bedroom and your back is pressed against the door roughly as his lips stay on yours and refuse to pull away. His tongue is hot in your mouth, and his hands feel as though they’re burning your skin with the heat they are radiating, groping your ass and the soft skin of your back as he explores your body. All the things he’d wanted to do for these last few months, that he’d forced himself to repress, finally coming out.

You moan into Jean’s mouth at the sudden feel of his hands on your tits, grabbing blindly and pinching your nipple roughly and suddenly, causing the moan to turn into a loud squeal. Jean clasps his free hand over your mouth.

“Shh, now,” he begins, staring into your eyes and making your core heat up uncomfortably as you realize your little challenge was finally over. You feel the wetness between your legs growing, pussy throbbing just at seeing Jean be so dominant for once. “We don't want anyone to hear, do we?”

You shake your head quickly to answer his question, having completely forgotten about the multiple guests just a floor away. You expect Jean to pull away, to tell you that he’ll take care of you after they’re all gone, some other time, but he doesn’t.

He pulls his hand away and leads two fingers to your mouth, guiding them into your willing mouth, latching your lips around them and sucking while swirling your tongue, getting them wet as he wanted.

“You know how long I’ve wanted this? Huh? Since the day I met you, that’s how long. And you’re such a fucking tease all the time, you know how unbearable it's been?” Jean says in a deep voice, his eyes observing your mouth continuing its work. You moan around his fingers, wanting to speak but no words come out.

He pulls his fingers away and leads them straight to your throbbing pussy, running one up and down your slit teasingly as you hold back a loud moan.

“P-please, Jean, please do something, I- oh!” Jean shoves the two digits into your tight hole without any warning at all, causing your whole body to shake at the sudden fullness.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it, you dirty slut? You wanted your big brother to get fed up and fuck you senseless, didn’t you? Say it,” he orders, fingers pumping in and out and his hand grazing your clit with every motion, causing you to moan as your body tenses. You can hardly process his words because of the pleasure you’re feeling, but his other hand finding your throat brings you back quickly.

“Say it. I won’t ask again.”

“Y-yes, Jean, I-I wanted big brother to fuck me, oh, yes-” You lose your thoughts again as his pace increases, making you squeal again before you clamp your mouth shut to make sure no one hears you. Your stomach is tensing and you know you’re so, so close, one more touch from Jean would have your orgasm washing over you like lightening spreading through your body, when he suddenly stops.

You gasp loudly at the sudden emptiness, feeling your orgasm dissipate as you buck up and clamp down against nothing at all. Jean’s fingers are in his mouth, tasting your wetness as you try to catch your breath and protest against the way he’s teasing you, but your pleas are met by deaf ears.

“Jean,” you moan desperately, clinging to his shoulders, “please, please, let me cum, please-”

“No. Filthy sluts that mess around with their big brother’s friends don’t get to cum,” he says gruffly, as you whine again and try to release yourself from his tight grip. It’s useless since he has you caged in, firm hands on your waist dragging you to the bed and throwing you on top of the soft covers.

“Please, I promise I’ll be a good girl,” you plead, using your sweetest voice and big. teary eyes to win Jean over, but it’s still useless.

“I said no,” he repeats, hovering over you and his hands finding their way to the bottom of your camisole. He pulls the skimpy top off of you quickly, revealing your tits. Your nipples harden at the sudden cool air, and Jean’s fingers find them once again, pinching and teasing as you moan into your pillow, desperately bucking your hips up for contact between your legs, to no avail. His hot mouth finds your nipple, flicking with his tongue as his hand plays with the other, before he pulls away quickly.

You whine again at the loss of stimulation, before you see Jean pulling down the band of his grey sweatpants and leaning back against the headboard.

“Prove to me that you deserve big brother’s cock,” he says, revealing his hard dick as it snaps against his stomach. “With your mouth. Now.”

You don’t need to be told twice. You reposition yourself, ass in the air and head at Jean’s crotch as you stare at his pretty, pink cock with wide eyes. You’d expected him to be big, but not like this, though you don’t have time to dwell on it as he grips it firmly and taps the angry, pink tip against your lips.

You hang your tongue out, spit collecting and falling all over his length before you finally take as much as you can into your mouth, sucking and swirling as your hands move up and down the rest that you can’t take.

“Just like that-” Jean begins before breaking into a loud moan. You pop him out of your mouth and keep stroking with your hands as you whisper for him to shush.

“What happened to being quiet, and everyone downstairs will hear, and-” You’re interrupted as Jean grips his cock and shoves it back into your mouth, gagging suddenly at the unexpected movement.

Jean stares at your obedient mouth, following his instructions without any sign of the brat he was so used to. As you cup his balls in your hand, he feels them tighten and knows he’s not gonna last much longer like this. He guides your head away from his cock, admiring the drool and spit on your face and the glassy eyes he’s longed to see.

“Jean, I wanna-”

“I don’t care what you want, sweetheart,” he says, a false sweetness in his voice that’s making you feel dizzy. “You’re gonna ride me now, you got that?”

Jean’s hands are firmly set on your hips, positioning you just as he wants as you hover above his leaking cock. You grind down quickly, desperate for friction on your throbbing clit, before Jean stops your motions with the tight grip he has on you. “Are you gonna make me repeat myself?” he questions, in a tone that makes you positive that you don't want to make him angry. You shake your head immediately, taking his dick in your hand and lining it up with your wet hole, before slowly sinking down.

“Oh, god-!” you let out, before clasping a hand over your mouth. You had never felt quite so full before, the stretching burn making heat course through your whole body, as you bottom out and clench hard. “Come on, baby, you know how long you’ve been begging for this? Don’t get shy on me now,” Jean says, and you regain your senses slowly. You start moving, up and down, just like he wants and speeding up as you feel your cunt gush against Jean.

You’re sure to be making a mess, but you can hardly care when your brain feels so cloudy and distracted at how good Jean feels inside you, and you start the grinding movement again. Jean entertains you for a minute, before grabbing your hips even tighter, nearly at a bruising grip now, and snapping his own hips to thrust into you.

You’re blabbering now, utterly senseless as Jean fucks you mercilessly. You know you’re being loud, but you just don’t care, not when Jean is hitting that one spot inside you that has you seeing stars before you know it, your hands on his shoulders and holding on for life.

“Are you close, baby? Are you gonna cum all over your brother’s big cock?” Jean teases, feeling you clench down harder and knowing he won’t be able to hold on much longer either. “Yes, yes, yes! Jean! Oh, Jean-” you finally feel the tight coil in your stomach snap, unaware of your own movements and surroundings as you focus on the pleasure Jean’s giving you. You yell out, cumming so intensely and shaking on top of Jean, twitching once more when you hear Jean groan and feel hot ropes of cum inside you.

Your throat feels dry and scratchy, heart pounding as you come down from your high. You feel Jean’s grip, much softer now, lead you off of his cock and lay you next to him on the bed. It’s a mess, and you don’t know how you’ll clean up with everyone downstairs and surely they’ve noticed you’re both still gone-but you still don’t care.

All you care about is the sound of Jean’s heart beat from your position on his chest, and the way his hands feel on your skin as he holds you close to his warm body.

“So,” he starts off quietly, “was it how you’ve been imagining it all this time?” You’re not looking at him, but you know he’s smiling.

“Mmh,” you hum contentedly, “even better.” You feel his body rumble with a laugh, and his hand reaches to cup your face and lean into you for a kiss. Just as your lips meet, you hear a sharp knock at the door.

“Might wanna hurry up, you two,” Eren calls out from the other side of the door. “The others are getting suspicious.”

#anyways.. step bro jean <3 #jean kirstein #jean x reader #jean kirstein x reader #jean kirstein smut #jean kirstein imagine #attack on titan #jean kirschtein #jean kirschtein smut #jean kirschtein imagine #tw stepcest #aot imagine #aot x reader #aot smut

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wallflowerimagines · 3 years

Note

How would the Lords handle their crush rejecting them? The reason can range from just not returning their feelings to having feelings for someone else to having feelings for one of their SIBLINGS

Ooooooooh. Time for Angst.

Alcina Dimitrescu

Ah.

Alcina doesn't settle for second best, unfortunately.

She's going to try and convince you of how wrong you are, and use every trick in her arsenal. Making you jealous, degrading your choice in perspective partner, showering you in affection, she's not above any of it. Hell, she might even play matchmaker for your crush.

To a certain extent, as long as she can convince you not to choose your crush, she's happy. You don't even have to pick her at the end of the day, she just wants to make sure they are out of your life.

IF it's another Lord, though...

I'm going to be a thousand percent honest, if she likes you and you reject her for a stranger, it would go way better than if you rejected her for a sibling.

She's not Mother Miranda's favorite, and now she's not your favorite either, and it hurts.

She's not going to try and win you over if you chose another Lord. Depending on how close you were beforehand she might even cut you out of her life entirely. If she sees you in public, she'll either ignore you or be so icily civil that it feels like she's disemboweling you with her words.

If the two of you were close friends, there might be a chance for reconciliation, but it's not likely. You would have to put in an obscene amount of effort, and it would still take years before she's even willing to entertain the idea.

(You need to prove that she's still special to you. She needs to feel appreciated, and that her love for you wasn't a waste. If you can manage to do all that, your relationship can recover and your friendship will thrive.)

She's also worse to the sibling who got picked over her, Especially if it's Heisenberg. Their petty squabbling actually turns into heated arguments with Intent To Harm, and she will not hesitate to kill him if he steps on her toes.

Donna Beneviento

Inconsolable.

For Donna to make herself vulnerable enough to confess to you, pour her heart out, and still be rejected?

It hurts. It hurts so much.

She spent all this time and effort trying to be brave, trying to build up just enough courage to make you see how she felt, and it didn't work. You don't love her. It feels like she made a running jump into the void and nobody was there to catch her.

Was it something she did? Was it something she said? Was it Angie? Her scar? Her mutation? Donna wants to know why.

And when she finds out it's someone else? ...She doesn't know how to feel.

Do they know how you take your tea? Donna does! Donna knows your favorite color, and song, and what your dream job is! It's almost like she's bargaining with you. You two are perfect together, she just knows it! Does this stranger even care about you at all?

Eventually, once you start to console her, she settles down a bit. Okay. You don't love her romantically. But you have to promise her that you'll stay in her life, that's the only way she'll accept this.

(She can't lose anyone else)

It doesn't matter if your crush is a stranger or another Lord, Donna watches them like a hawk. She's a little more lenient with her Siblings, of course, but her standards for the relationship are even higher than yours. They have to pass all these small 'tests' to prove that they're worthy of your affection.

If you don't get anything and everything you ask for, your partner is going to have to deal with Donna. If they so much as make you cry, Angie and the rest of Donna's porcelain family are going to shred them to pieces. No questions, no excuses.

Her feelings will probably change to something more familial rather than romantic (she love you too much for you guys to just be friends), but Donna will never stop being crazy protective over you.

Salvatore Moreau

Surprisingly, he has the best initial reaction.

As much as he hoped--As much as he dreamed--that you would love him back, he knew it was never going to happen.

Salvatore is aware that he's a monster, and Beauty and the Beast is just a story. People like you don't fall for things like him, and it's just a fact of life.

He's still devastated, don't get me wrong. But if you reject him because you have feelings for someone else already?

He's a little more understanding.

He would still want to be friends. No matter who you fall for, he wants to be in your life, even if he made the mistake of revealing to you how disgusting his feelings are. If you want him as a friend, he'll be there for you, no questions asked.

If you confess to your crush and it goes well? He's so genuinely happy for you! You deserve every happiness the world has to offer, and your crush would be a fool not to see how much of a gem you are.

He'll also want to know about your relationship, to the point where it's a little bit voyeuristic. But he honestly can't help himself. It's like a movie with his favorite person as the romantic lead, and he can't bring himself to look away.

Just... Don't tell him about your first kiss with your new partner. It's something he built up quite a bit in his head, and he really wanted to experience that with you. He'd spend long nights fantasizing about what your lips might feel like against his, and to hear you gush about that experience with someone else will break his heart all over again.

Moreau would also be happier with the Situation if you told him you were in love with one of his siblings. That means you're part of his family! You're not going to leave the Village! You're going to stick around, and he will still get to see you all the time!

Salvatore isn't going to pine after you until the day he dies--but it's pretty damn close. He's fairly emotionally mature about things like romance, but feelings can't just be turned on and off with the push of a button. Just because you are taken doesn't mean he still doesn't have feelings for you, after all, but he promises you he's going to work through it. Still, please, give him time.

Karl Heisenberg

Magnet Man is ready to murder.

You're HIS crush friend. You're supposed to like him! You guys have so much in common already, why would you spend time with someone else when you could be spending time with Your Friend Heisenberg??

(why don't you like him like he likes you?)

I've said it before, but Heisenberg is bad at processing emotions. He does not know what his own feelings are 99% of the time, and the rest of the time he does not want to acknowledge it. When he finds out you have a crush and it's not him? He practically throws a tantrum. It's frustrating for him too, because he's not even sure why he's so angry.

Especially because you make a point of saying that you still value your friendship with him. He's irreplaceable to you, but only platonically.

And he likes you as a friend. So much. The fact that you want to stick around after he word vomited his tangle of platonic-romantic feelings at you just proves you two are great friends. So why is he STILL so fucking pissed?

He will play the Needy Best Friend card to keep your attention on him as long as possible. Any minor inconvenience he might have is an emergency of the highest caliber, and you HAVE to help him. A part of him hopes the extended exposure will convince you to choose him.

Meanwhile, if your crush is some stranger (and he thinks he can get away with it without hurting you) that person is straight up dead. All tattoos and other identiying marks are removed so you aren't suspicious, and the corpse is used as Lycan fodder. No evidence, no proof, no problem.

If You like one of His Siblings? He does a little more soul searching. He does want you to be happy, and as much as he argues with them, his siblings are just as much Victims of Mother Miranda as he is. They do deserve happy lives (if only to spite that bitch, or at least that's how he rationalizes it to himself).

He'll... probably get over it. Maybe. Someday. But in the meantime, as long as you stick around and promise to spend time with him, it will sting way less.

#donna beneviento x reader #alcina dimitrescu x reader #karl heisenburg x reader #salvatore moreau x reader #the four lords x readers #the four lords #donna beneviento #alcina dimitrescu #karl heisenberg #salvatore moreau #re8 #resident evil #resident evil village #resident evil 8

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angry-geese · 3 years

Text

Nanami Kento x Reader

Warnings: sfw. pregnancy mention, death mention, minor injury mention. mild angst. jjk manga spoilers/shibuya arc spoilers

Summary: some pregnancy fluff with nanami

Word Count: 2.2k

jjk masterlist

Greys dot at his temples, and the sides of his beard. There's a permanent line between his eyebrows from scowling. Nanami always kept his face shaved in the past. Nowadays he hardly bothers shaving. You like it when he has a little bit of scruff, and he's often too tired to shave. His cheeks are far more gaunt. He lost a considerable amount of weight he never really gained back. You’ve been trying to get him to eat more. And it's working, but recovery isn't a short process. It was a long road that sometimes it feels like you take one step forward, only to take ten back.

He finds himself questioning if he'd rather wear a glass eye, or an eyepatch.

Nanami hardly sees the point in either. So the answer is neither. He rarely leaves his house, save for the rare times you drag him along to the grocery store, or down the street to the bakery. Even then, he wears his hat low on his head, keeping his eyes on the ground in a feeble attempt to make himself as small as possible.

Shibuya left scars on everyone who had the misfortune of being there, ones that never quite healed right. You were the same person; torn apart and put back together wrong. Age has not been kind to you, your wounds taking longer to heal, an ever-present ache in your bones. Past injuries have never quite healed, only laying dormant, waiting for the weather to sour so they can ache. He guesses he can consider himself lucky. He's alive. That's more than a lot of people can say.

But sometimes he thinks the real lucky ones were those who didn't survive.

Sometimes he thinks he's dead. In the twilight between sleep and his waking moments, he wonders if he actually made it. He wonders if he really survived, or if this is just some last ditch attempt by his brain to make sense of things.

He doesn't understand why you stay. He finds himself wondering why he bothers. Most days he doesn't see a point in continuing. But he doesn't want to leave you alone, reaching out to the empty space where he used to be.

For a long time he struggled to find purpose to all this. He wanted a reason, or at the very least answers. But he never would get them. It's unfair to say there’s an order to the universe. There's no reason why things happen the way they happen, they just do.

In the end he came to terms with it.

He remembers the glint in your eyes. A mischievous look- you were always trying to cause trouble. It's never really left. You were younger than him. Not by much. Two years. You were adamant he recommended you to become a grade one sorcerer. For months you pestered him, hounding him for that recommendation. As a Jujutsu High first-year, you looked up to him. When you got into trouble, you found yourself asking 'what would Nanami do?' And as time went on, you still did.

After months of pestering he eventually caved. You're nothing if not persistent. It was a little alarming at the time, and equally as irritating. But when you were finally a grade one sorcerer, he was there alongside you to celebrate.

At first glance, you two were far from compatible. The two of you couldn't be any more different. He was stoic and stern, and you were a known troublemaker. Your cursed technique worked well with his, and as a result, you went on many jobs together. As time went on you grew close.

And after years of working together, he finally realized he wanted more.

To everyone around you, your feelings were obvious. The two of you were hopeless. Between your stubbornness, and Nanami’s refusal to believe Gojo, neither of you wanted to be the first to confess. It was up to Gojo to help. Neither of you asked for his help, he took it upon himself. Little did he know, Nanami had a confession planned.

Nanami never got to have a proper confession. Gojo would spoil the surprise. Nanami was pissed, but your reaction was worth it. He doesn't think he’s ever seen you that happy.

Slowly things got better. Your more visible wounds healed and scarred. You went back to work. Nanami settled into domestic life better than he thought he would.

The transition wasn't the easiest. Settling down was far from an instantaneous change. He took on work around the house. For a short time you kept a ‘normal’ job. Even when you were younger, such work never suited you. Between the money you had saved up from your years as a sorcerer, and the money you got from odd jobs, you had enough to live comfortably. There was no need to work.

Slowly he started to look forward to getting up in the morning. Having a routine helped. It gave him a sense of normalcy.

He often finds himself unable to sleep. Nanami falls asleep late in the afternoon, and sleeps until either his phone, or a nightmare rouses him.

Today it's neither. He was a light sleeper before. Now even more-so. When he’s next to you, sleep comes to him easier. His arms find the swell of your belly, wrapping around it protectively. Your presence is a reminder that you’re still around, that you're not going anywhere. His shoulder aches. He finds sleep impossible. He’s too sore to move, but too sore to sleep. Even before everything, he found it easy to sleep on his couch, and hard to sleep in bed. You’d constantly pester him that sleeping on the couch wasn't good for his back. But that wouldn't stop you from staying there until you both inevitably fell asleep, and he carried you to bed.

It took you years to convince him to have one. He wanted to settle down and have children, but he couldn't be both a sorcerer and a parent. And neither could you. Shibuya only set things back. The world had to heal first. Things had to get better. The two of you had to heal before others could rely on you.

You weren't actively trying, but if it happened, it happened.

You've long since fallen asleep in the crook of his neck. He hardly left bed all day. Things were getting bad again. Sometimes months would go by where it seemed things were improving, only for them to take a nosedive. He’s still getting better, but recovery isn't a linear process. You didn't have anywhere to go that day, so you stayed right by his side. You took it upon yourself to make him feel better. Or at least bother him until he got out of bed. Much of your morning was spent watching movies on your phone, and stealing blankets from each other.

Retirement was nice. Granted, you retired rather young, but if the rest of your life was spent with him, you’d be content. He’s still the same man you fell in love with all those years ago. Aside from the occasional, safe-ish odd job, you were done with sorcery. Those days were past you.

He’s grown tired of staying still. Sometimes moving helps the aches. He never was the earliest riser before, but now he can hardly stay in bed past seven. Everything hurts. No matter when he goes to sleep, he’s usually up by 7:30, and you can count on him making coffee in the kitchen.

It's hardly past nine. The sun has completely set over the horizon. Stiffness has set into his limbs. He takes great care to not disturb your sleeping form, tucking the blankets back around you.

You nuzzle into the warm spot where he once was, a frown burned into your face. You never liked sleeping without him. Nightmares struck you frequently. Often you'd wake up from a dead sleep in a panic, calling out for him, convinced that this was some sick dream and he died years ago. He’d often wake up to you clinging to his arm, face buried in his shirt.

But he was always there.

You find it easier to fall asleep when it's light out. You don't like falling asleep in the dark. He makes sure to keep a light on in the hall. The power bill you could care less about. Nightmares came to you in the dark. Your logic is that, if there's no dark, you won't have them. To some extent it works.

It's a bit late for dinner, but he finds himself in the kitchen anyway. He wants udon, but the shop you normally go to would be closed at this hour. Their mushroom udon is the best. He’ll try to recreate it.

He sets some water on to boil, along with some frozen gyoza to thaw that you always insist on going to this one specific market in Tokyo for. Chicken and leek, with lots of ginger. Your favorite. You go through so much of the stuff that you have to get it in bulk, and freeze the extras. He thinks you’ll want tea too, so he sets the kettle on to boil.

He doesn't hear you walk in. Between the clanking of pots, and the whistling of the kettle, your soft footsteps go unheard. Nanami’s hearing was never quite the same. But he senses eyes on his back, and turns.

“I didn't mean to wake you, love.” He says.

“You didn't. I was having a hard time staying asleep anyway,” you say, “what’re you making?”

“Mushroom udon and gyoza,” he says, “it’s gonna be kind of a late dinner, but I thought it sounded good.”

“Smells good,” you say.

One of his hands finds your much smaller ones. Your fingers lace with his. His hands are warm, and calloused from years of using his weapon.

“Remind me to get more tea when I head into town tomorrow,” you say, “oh- and rice too. We were getting low the last time I checked. Do you want to go too?”

He nods. He makes a silent note to add those, along with laundry soap to the shopping list.

Before, he hated going into town. Strangers poked and prodded, and asked about his scars. It's gotten better as time goes on. If cravings struck you in the middle of the night, he would be up and ready to bring you something. Craving the mochi only sold by a specific shop in Tokyo? It doesn't matter if he had to take the train all the way to the city, he’d do it. Your arms wrap around his waist from behind. He’s a bit too tall for you to rest your head on his shoulder from behind. You have to stand on the tips of your toes to press a kiss to his cheek. He smells faintly of laundry soap, and shampoo. His stubble brushes against your lips. You always liked when he grew it out.

He pulls you so you stand in front of him, your back against his chest. His hands find the swell of your belly, wrapping around you protectively. Nanami plants a kiss on the top of your head. It's one of the few moments you feel truly normal. You’re no longer sorcerers, but a couple sharing a romantic moment, one building a life together.

He’s hardly allowed any distance between you two. Nanami acts like you’re made out of glass. He’s almost afraid to touch you. God forbid you try to lift something too heavy, or help out with the housework. He’s on you in an instant, trying to get you to rest. He’s a bit overbearing when it comes to things that aren't good for the baby. No alcohol, no caffeine, no overexerting yourself. You didn't miss alcohol all that much, but you really miss coffee. At times his presence can be suffocating. He means well, even if it gets on your nerves.

When the noodles are done, he gathers two bowls- part of a set given to you as a wedding gift. You only brought them out to use when your parents would visit. Much of the time they spent gathering dust. You always talked about using them more, but never got the opportunity to. He figures now is as good a time as ever. You set the table, setting out a few candles. He’d break out a bottle of sake if you could drink, but you just settle for tea.

"Retirement looks good on you," you say.

“It looks good on you too,” he says.

Conversation carries on while you eat. The topic falls onto mundane things that make his heart flutter only when you talk about them. You make plans to go shopping in the morning. You need groceries, and there’s a new shop opening up in town that you want to check out. When you’re done eating, you help him clean up. You clear the table while he gets the dishes.

He’s finally found his place. Not in jujutsu or human society. Not among sorcerers or regular people. His place is beside you.

And each day, he finds himself falling more hopelessly in love.

#jjk x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen fluff #jjk #jujutsu kaisen #nanami fluff #nanami kento #fluff #jjk manga spoilers

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aggravatetheaxe · 3 years

Note

Hi there! I was wondering if I could request an imagine where a victim “escapes” from the slashers and hurts s/o in the process. What would the slashers do during and after? Thank you!!

Hi! I wasn't sure which slashers you wanted for this, so I put my list into a randomizer and went with the first 5!

Walter Sullivan

Thomas Hewitt

Jason Voorhees

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Erik ("The Phantom")

SLASHERS WHOSE VICTIM HURTS THEIR S/O

cw: mentions of suicide, reader being injured/in mortal peril, mentions of torture and killing etc etc

Walter Sullivan

Oh no. Oh dear.

You are possibly the only good, pure thing in this world or the Otherworld and someone hurt you? Walter is ... not happy, to put it lightly. The only person who should ever hurt you is him, and he won't do that unless it's for your own good.

This only enforces his belief that the world and everyone in it are monstrous. It drives home the truth he's already convinced of - this existence in terrible and torturous and needs to be destroyed if anything holy is ever going to be allowed to blossom again.

Whether The Victim is pre- or post- Walter's suicide, he's already stopping at nothing to go after them. He doesn't view it as personal, he doesn't hold any particular hatred for most (most) of his victims; they're simply links in a chain. But this person, the one who hurt you ... it's personal. They'll die in absolute agony.

If the victim in question is pre-suicide, Walter will bring them down and find somewhere to keep them for later. This will not be a quick death.

While they're bound/gagged or knocked out, he'll check on you. You're special, possibly even the Mother Reborn, and he can't let you die until the time is right. If you're seriously injured, he'll see to it that you're taken to the hospital, and pray to a dead God if he has to that you'll be alright. If you're not seriously injured, he'll do his best to patch you up - he lived on the streets for many years and had to take care of himself, so he knows basic first aid.

Once he's certain you're safe, he will put you somewhere where you won't witness what he's about to do. Even if you want to see it, he'll insist you stay hidden, saying the sinner doesn't deserve to be in your presence. You'll have to really convince him if for some reason you want to watch.

Their torture will depend on what they did to you. If it was just a few scrapes and cuts, he'll let them feel every ounce of pain before they die. If they really hurt you, their torture will be prolonged. In his mind, and according to his religion, death is a sacred sacrament, and this evil being doesn't deserve its release. If they did something to seriously traumatize and/or sully you ... the crime scene he leaves behind is going to be grisly, to put it lightly.

If the victim in question is post-suicide, the results will be similar, but he has absolute control over the Otherworld - and he will utilize that. He will have his creations take care of you and keep you somewhere safe ... they may be terrifying, but they won't hurt you unless he wills it. As for the victim, he can twist them into their worst nightmares over and over again before killing them. He will make them see their wrongdoings and pay for their evil. They will beg for mercy and there will be none.

After it all, he will simply move onto the next one, with you somewhere safe ... until it's time. Until it's time. You are so perfect.

Thomas Hewitt

Dammit. If he'd just been quicker or smarter, he could have caught them before they escaped and hurt you. He immediately blames himself.

There's no time to beat himself up over it, though. He briefly checks to make sure you're not bleeding from anywhere vital and sends you (or locks you up) somewhere safe before going after the victim. You're on your own for first aid for now - unless you're literally dying, he can't let them leave the property.

If you are literally dying, he's staying and doing all he can to help you. But if Hoyt yells, he may have to pawn you off on someone else and hope they do a good job taking care of you. He'll hold your face and give you tender kisses goodbye - whether you want them or not - because this might be the last time he ever sees you.

He chases the victim in a fever, much more erratic than you would expect from him. He's faster, less careful, more inclined to put himself at risk just to get a swing in at them. It's not generally anything personal when he kills someone - it's something he does for the good of his family, and because he was told to. This one he's not interested in saving for meat. They hurt you. You, his special person. He's going to grind them into the mud, and he's not even going to let Hoyt have a go at them.

Sometimes, sometimes, he struggles to see the animals in his victims. But this one ... he doesn't even feel the urge to twist them into an animal. That's a whole human, an evil one, one he wants to kill. It's a different feeling for him.

Once it's all over and everything's calmed down, he's rushing directly to your side. People don't come around all too often, so he's comfortable putting down the chainsaw for now. He neglects any skin projects he planned and lets someone else do the butchering, focusing on taking care of you, especially if you're seriously injured and put up in bed.

If you're not as seriously injured and tell him you're fine, he's still keeping an eye on you ... and making sure you're well-fed. You've been through a lot and it was all his fault. He doesn't want you to be exposed like that again. Next time someone comes around, he'll insist you hide somewhere.

Jason Voorhees

It's a toss up whether or not he'll actually notice you're hurt. Not because he doesn't care or anything, but because Camp Crystal Lake is a lot of ground to cover and there's a low chance he'll be in the same area as you at any given time.

For this imagine, though, let's assume you've found your way to him or he's sensed you're in trouble and has rushed to you.

You were supposed to be safe in the cabin, so he's a little irritated that you wandered out, but that's completely overshadowed when he realizes you're hurt. He stops everything he's doing and clinically and thoroughly pats you down, identifying every solitary injury.

Just like his mother before him, he is a vengeful soul, so he is not letting this go even if you're just scraped or bruised. If you are critically injured, he'll at least get you to the cabin and get a tourniquet on you.

Otherwise, he leaves you behind. Not very mindful, but you should know that he wants you to get back to the cabin or at least stay out of the way. He is no longer thinking of you - he has established his target and knows what he has to do. He's laser focused and decisive as he stalks after them, using anything at his disposal to get to them.

Their death is quick - he doesn't play around - but he has a lingering sense of irony and playfulness. If there's a particularly interesting weapon nearby, he'll take them out with that; or perhaps he'll hurt them in the way they hurt you, just, you know ... more fatal. And a lot gorier.

After that, he'll move onto their friends, until every last one is dead. Once his objective is completed, he is returning to you directly and finishing the job of patching you up.

He can't help but feel a little guilty that you were hurt. You shouldn't have left the cabin, true, but perhaps he should have been watching for you. He should have locked you up. Pamela might say rude things in his head. Then again, she might comfort him. If she doesn't like you, maybe she'll even wish he'd left you to die.

Deacon Billings (OC Ghostface)

Well ... you usually keep him around to scare off other Ghostfaces - something he's very handy at - but you don't usually run into trouble with his victims.

He doesn't really tell you to go anywhere in particular when he's killing. He knows you can take care of yourself. But now he feels stupid for not having a backup plan. Of course some asshole was gonna eventually identify you as his loved one and try to get cute. He should've had something prepared for that.

But, if he's good at anything, it's improvising. He skids into whatever room you're in, drops his weapon, and pulls his mask off right away to check you over. If you're only mildly injured, he's visibly relieved, and tells you to stay put while he deals with whomever hurt you. If you're more seriously injured, he'll grab your phone and shove it in your hand. "Get in the car, get the fuck out of here. Drive to the emergency room if you have to, just leave."

If you're unable to drive, he'll make you call emergency services - or call them for you, if he has to. The game is over, he's done playing; this isn't fun if he's not winning. Everyone in this place is gonna be dead and he'll be long gone by the time the ambulance shows up for you.

The one who hurt you is going to get an extra special surprise. A particularly grisly death, and a bunch of selfies/short videos of Ghostface with the corpse - taken with the victim's own phone, posted to their instagram, tiktok, facebook, sent to any discord groups, and any other social media they have. If he has the time, he'll even make them in meme formats (definitely posting with meme captions, the fucking troll). He'll probably send a copy to you as a "hey, look what I did!"

If there are survivors, especially if that survivor is the one who hurt you, you better believe he is immediately doxxing them. Since he's had a little time to cool down, he might even play the long game, maybe catfishing and blackmailing them. Ruining their pathetic little life even further would be pretty fun. In the end, though, they'll die like all the others.

When all is said and done, he's going to be there for you, helping you recover any way he can. He'd suggest rest (for an amount of time relative to your injury), some movies and candy, maybe some video games. And time spent with your favorite Ghostface, of course, right?

He'll never forget what happened, though. Even though the person is dead, he'll be stewing and pissed off about it for a long, long time. And he won't let something like that happen again, or at least, not without a contingency plan in place.

The hash mark/tally mark he stitches into his costume to symbolize this kill is gonna be twice as long and large as the others, maybe in the place you got hurt as a reminder.

Erik

You already know what's about to happen.

If anyone so much as hurts your feelings they're getting menaced and receiving a strongly worded letter - actually physically harming you? That's suicide.

If he can't immediately kill this person, or if you're seriously injured, his primary objective is helping/comforting you. He has to push down a lot of wrath to do it ... every instinct tells him to immediately dispatch the fiend responsible ... but you are more important to him than anything in this world, even revenge. He will administer any first aid you need and may even drug you with ether to ensure you rest.

Don't think that means your attacker is off the hook, though. As soon as he decides you're well enough, he will put you somewhere safe - lock you away if he has to - and kill them. His preferred method is the Punjab lasso, but if they did something particularly egregious, he'll knock them out and take them to his torture chamber. They have a lesson to learn before they go to Hades.

Another option is, like Deacon, playing the long game ... playing with his food, stalking them, making them live in fear before they die. But he has a lot of wrath in that skinny little body, so it's a toss up as to whether or not he'll actually be able to follow through with that for very long. It depends on his mood, really!

He will keep the killing and torture hidden from you, of course ... unless you express an interest in seeing the vengeance being carried out. He would be worried for you, however, and advise against it. Those sights are not for the faint of heart, and certainly not for someone as beautiful and good as you.

Once all is said and done, it's as if it never happened. As if that person never existed! What a happy thought! Sometimes you even think Erik has completely forgotten the incident ... until he's stalking another victim and he locks you away again, and you remember you are always on his mind. He will never, never let that happen to you again.

#imagines #walter sullivan #walter sullivan x reader #thomas hewitt #thomas hewitt x reader #thomas hewitt x you #jason voorhees #jason voorhees x reader #jason voorhees x you #ghostface #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #erik the phantom #phantom x reader #slasher imagines #slasher x reader #slasher x you #slasher community

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staticscreenwriting · 3 years

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Where the heart is // B. B.

Summary: Bucky and (Y/N) are getting a divorce because they are silly and both love the other so damn much. (Happy Ending!)

TW: Talk of divorce. Talk of potential pregnancy and babies.

A/N: Likes, reblogs, comments are all much appreciated. I am German. Sometimes I get the tense wrong or make mistakes. I am useless when it comes to punctuation. Go easy on me, please.]

TAGLIST: Find the link to join my taglist in my bio. Will reblog this post with the taglist attached seperately.

Waking up from this nightmare How's your life, what's it like there? Is it all what you want it to be? Does it hurt when you think about me? And how broken my heart is

The apartment is deadly quiet as Bucky steps inside, only the rattling of his keys echoing through the halls that once seemed so warm and inviting are now but a cold reminder of what used to be.

People never really talk about these moments. The after. The wreckage. The ruins of what used to be. Sure there are movies and books and countless songs but they take the feeling and they wrap it up in beautiful words and prose and make something beautiful of it.

There’s nothing beautiful in the way Bucky feels as his feet drag him towards what used to be his bedroom, which is now hers. There’s nothing beautiful in the way he feels as his eyes wander over to the closed door behind which lays an empty room. One that is empty not because of choice but because of the shitty cards life has dealt both him and her.

There is nothing beautiful about the way he feels. Only sadness. Only hurt.

When he turns the corner and steps into the bedroom, his heart drops for a second. He hadn’t expected her to be here, not with how quiet the place is. But sure enough, there she is. Sitting on the fluffy comforter they bought together, legs tucked underneath herself. She said that comforter was the exact same shade of blue as his eyes. Now she doesn’t even lift her head to look at him, focusing only on the box resting on the bed before her.

“Hey uh — I didn’t expect to run into you.”

“ I live here. Sorry to disappoint.“

“ I know, that’s not what I meant. It’s just so quiet. “

She shrugs but still doesn’t look up. There’s so much resentment there, dripping from every word. He can’t fault her for it. Not even a little. If he was her, he’d hate himself too. Maybe this will make it easier for them. If she hates him, that’s a straight cut. Right? Hating is easy. It’s loving that’s hard.

“ It’s like that now. You here to get some of your stuff?” she asks, looking up at him for the first time. Her eyes are red and tired. Not like they were when he left, filled with tears and sorrow. Now they’re just infinitely sad and exhausted. Like all the life and all the warmth and all the passion that he fell so deeply in love with, has been sucked out of her. He hates knowing it’s partially his fault.

“ If that’s okay with you.”

“ sure. “

The movies and the poems and the books and the songs, they never talk about this. The after. The limbo. The “will you keep this or shall I take it?”

They don’t talk about the fact that you’re supposed to pack 5 years of relationship into a bunch of boxes and figure out what to do with it.

He quietly walks into the closet, as if making any noise would break whatever bubble is currently surrounding the two of them. Sometimes he wonders if things would be different had they been different people. Had they been able to express their feelings differently. Sometimes, in the most secret part of his heart, Bucky wishes there would’ve been screaming. Maybe screaming would’ve been helpful. Sure, it’s not the most eloquent way of communication but at least it is communication. But there was no screaming. Only silence. Only feelings swallowed up to never be spoken about. To suffocate them from the inside out.

Making as little noise as possible, Bucky grabs some of his clothes and stuffs them into the duffle bag Sam gave him. He had that look on his face, the pitiful one. The one that says “sorry, man”. There’s no reason to feel sorry for Bucky. This is his fault after all.

There’s a sound coming from behind him, and for a second he really believes it’s his mind playing tricks on him. But then he hears it again, louder this time, more clearly.

She’s laughing. Maybe not a full-on laugh but a chuckle. It’s been a while since he’s heard that sound.

“ What’s got you laughing like that ? “ Bucky asks as he turns back around only to be greeted by her smiling face. God how much he misses that smile.

She looks back down towards the box in front of her and the picture in her hand.

“ It’s uh — it’s a picture of the first time you stayed over. “

His legs carry him towards the bed as if they work on autopilot. As he sits down next to he can just about make out the scent of her shampoo. The one he bought for himself last week, not because he necessarily likes to use it. He bought it because he misses the scent. Because he misses her. And if he can keep her close like this, even for a small moment, he’ll buy an entire store's worth of shampoo.

Her fingers gently grip the picture so as to not rip or crumble it. He can’t hold back the smile that pulls at the corner of his lips as he recognizes the picture. It’s a slightly less gloomy version of him, in love and asleep. Curled up on her old tiny couch in her old tiny apartment with her dog Yoda sleeping soundly on his chest. He was so nervous to stay over at her place the first time he did. Nervous about so many different things but mostly about doing something to hurt her. Physically but also emotionally. To think that now his biggest fear came true, crushes his heart even further.

“ I miss Yoda. He was a good dog,” she says as she puts the photo back into the box. Truth be told, Bucky misses him too. He was grumpy and lazy and he didn’t ever really listen to them. But he was loyal and cuddly and all in all, he was the perfect dog for the two of them. And he had accepted Bucky into his and her life immediately. As if he knew that Bucky of all people needed nothing more than a chance to prove himself to be something other than a killer.

There are more pictures in the box, alongside other clutter that Bucky can’t quite make out. One of the other pictures he can see clearly, is one of the two of them on their first Halloween. The Halloween that Bucky didn’t want to dress up for. The one he promised himself he would spend curled up on his couch watching a scary movie and not open the door to anyone, Trick or Treaters or otherwise.

He ended up going out anyway. With her. FOR her. And it was one of the best nights of his life even if it meant he had to dress up like a skeleton.

“ What is all this? “ he asks though, by the way his heart starts beating faster, Bucky isn’t sure he even wants to know the answer to that question. “ You getting rid of our pictures? “

He doesn’t want it to sound so accusatory. They’re broken up. Separated. In the early process of a divorce. She has every right to get rid of their pictures. Get rid of him. Bury the memories. Just because he can’t let go doesn’t mean that she’s grieving in the same way.

“ No, “ she scoffs and pulls out a small scrap of paper, “ this is a memory box I started when we first got together. It’s things I didn’t know where to put but that I wanted to hold on to. I had planned to give it to you for our 10 year anniversary but … well “

She doesn’t have to say it. He knows.

“ Then after the — seperation I put some other stuff in there. Memories.”

“ Can I see what else is in there? “ he asks “ since I won’t get to see it on our 10 year anniversary.”

Bucks isn’t quite sure why he adds that to the end of his sentence. It makes him sound spiteful and mean and he can tell, by the look on her face, that it hurts her. And he’s done enough of that in the past. Isn’t that exactly the reason they are here in the first place?

She considers it for a moment and Buck can only guess the different kinds of emotions running through her then. He feels them too. All of them. They are confusing and most of them are negative. She has no reason to let him see this, relish in sweet nostalgia with him as if everything is okay and they’re not getting a fucking divorce.

“ Sure, I guess. I — yeah.”

She scoots more to the middle of the bed, making more space for Bucky to sit down properly. He’s perched on the side that was his. The side he fell asleep on and woke up on so many times. And she was there next to him. Always there and warm and soft. And she’d smile at him through sleepy eyes and a hazy mind and she’d rival the sun. And then she’d gently comb her fingers through his hair and say good morning and he knew it would be — a good morning.

He hasn’t had a good morning since he left.

She moves the box to sit between them on the bed and motions for Bucky to start digging in.

There’s a pile of what he realizes are old movie tickets. It's something they used to do when they first started dating. Thursdays were movie days. But while everyone went to see the new blockbusters, the two of them would pick the movies that sounded the weirdest and they’d buy a big bucket of popcorn and blue raspberry slushies and just relish in the grandeur that is bad cinema. Most of the time they were the only ones at the cinema. Sometimes things got — R rated.

“ Why did we stop doing this? “ she asks as Bucky looks up from the tickets “ going to the movies I mean. It was always my favorite day of the week. “

He tries to remember. Tries to pinpoint the moment when life changed and their Thursdays weren’t their Thursdays anymore. He can’t. He comes up empty.

Sometimes life changes in little ways, ones you don’t realize at that moment and they don’t seem significant either. It’s a broken tradition. A missed movie night. It’s slow and creeping but at some point, you stop and look at your life now and it doesn’t resemble your life then anymore. Everything has changed and you didn’t even notice. Not for one single second.

“ I have — I have no idea. “ he has to confess.

“ Remember that movie with the killer florist ? “ she asks and her voice is laced with laughter. Something sparks up in his heart. A tiny flicker of something he’s missed. Something he hasn’t felt in a while. He can’t help but laugh along.

“ I do! Or the one where the woman fell in love with the Koi in her neighbor's pond? ”

“ Oh god! That was terrible. “

“ It was.”

She looks wistful for a moment as if her thoughts wander off to some long-forgotten memory.

“ What are you thinking about? “

He never usually had to ask her. He’d either know or she’d tell him on her own accord. It’s like there’s an invisible wall between them. One he wants to break down or climb over so badly. But does she want him there? After everything?

“ The day we saw that movie was the first time you said I love you. “

It’s true. Now that she mentions it he remembers it so clearly. It’s like he’s suddenly faced with a scene from a movie he’s forgotten about a long time ago but once someone mentions it, he remembers it in great detail. Knows every word. Every line.

“ I still don’t quite know what it was about that moment that made you say it but — “ she trails off, a smile playing on her lips.

Bucky knows. It wasn’t a groundbreaking realization back then. He’d been feeling it for months. Fell deeper in love with her with every glance, every smile, every silly movie he got to watch with her. They went to some dingy diner after the movie to grab a burger and some fries. The leather seats were old and the filling was spilling out, the air smelled of grease and air freshener, and the laminated menu cards were sticky with undefinable stains. All things considered, it should’ve been a bad date. It wasn’t though. Nothing was ever bad with her. She smiled. All she did was smile and hum along to some song Bucky didn’t know as it spilled from the jukebox. And it occurred to him then, that there was no need for a big gesture or a special moment. Every moment with her was special. Life couldn’t get any better than this. Existing was enough if only she was there.

“ Nothing. “

“ Hm? “

“ There was nothing special about that moment. I just realized that I would be okay with anything if only you are there. You — that’s all I need in life. “

She looks at him then and for a second he thinks that maybe she’ll kiss him. Tell him that they are making a mistake and ask him to come back. Tell him that she doesn’t blame him. That she forgives him. That she wants him anyway. Despite — everything. She doesn’t though. Just sighs and pulls another picture from the box.

It’s a picture of the two of them cuddled up on the couch with a tiny white ball of fluff resting on her chest.

“ Our first picture with Alpine. “

“ That was taken on the day we found him. Look, you can clearly see the scratches on my face from crawling around the dumpsters to rescue him. “ Bucky points out.

He had never thought of himself as a cat person. Really he wasn’t so much an anything-person anymore, after Hydra. But somehow that little cat had wormed his way into his heart and refused to leave.

“ Was worth it though! “

Bucky nods his head in agreement “ it was. “

“ You should — you should take him. He’s really more your cat than mine.”

“ He’s our cat.” he points out.

“ Bucky there won’t be an ours anymore. Soon.”

It breaks his heart. Over and over again. He just got used to being himself. The version he was when he was with her. How is he gonna deal with doing it all over again? He doesn’t want to be a version of himself after her.

“ I don’t have a place yet and Sam’s allergic. “

“ He can stay here until then, of course. I love him. “

There’s a lot of love there that’s being given up on, Bucky realizes. And he hates every part of it.

“ Shit, remember this? “ she chimes up again as her hand holds onto a thin receipt, the black ink bleached away and thinned out from years of being stuck in a box. From years of memories fading.

“ Is that from the —”

“ The tattoo place, yeah. “

The patch of skin on the inside of his arm grows hot as if he is suddenly aware of what is there. Something long forgotten. A small letter forever etched into his skin in black ink like the way she’s forever etched into his heart. Always there. Forever. Just like the delicate lines that write his own name onto her collar bone. James. Not Bucky. Not Winter Soldier. James.

“ Oh god, I can’t believe you kept these,” Buck exclaims as he picks a pair of bright blue knitted socks from the box. They’re made from scratchy wool and there are a million and one holes in them. It’s so her. So quintessentially her. To keep them. With their holes and their scratchy wool and all. Even if they’re a mess. Even if they’re broken. She holds onto things no matter how bad. No matter how lost and sad and broken and useless. She holds on tight and doesn’t let go. Unless you make her. Unless you force her to. Unless you break her heart.

“ Umm … you made them for me. Like you literally learned how to knit to make me a pair of socks to keep my feet warm. That is the most romantic thing anyone has ever done for me, Buck. Of course, I kept them. “

Bucky bashfully shrugs his shoulders, a tint of red dusting his cheeks. “ I’m glad you liked them. Even if they’re scratchy. “

“ I like you and Alpine and you guys are the scratchiest,” she points out. She’s not wrong.

“ Was I a good boyfriend? “ Bucky asks and while in the grand scheme of things it really doesn’t matter, he wants to know anyway. Wants to know he did something right.

“ You were the best boyfriend. “

“ I’m sorry I was a shit husband. “

She stays quiet for a moment and with every second that passes by he breaks more and more. He wonders how much of him is left at this point. How much there’s still to lose. Then again, what does it matter? He lost her and that’s all that really matters.

“ You weren’t a shit husband, Bucky. “

It’s like the world suddenly moves in slow motion as they both grab the 2 things left in the box.

Bucky holds onto the blue velvet box knowing exactly what’s inside. The last time he held it, got on his knees in front of her, put the ring on her finger, that was one of the best days of his life. A sign that the Winter Soldier was his past and that he could finally truly move on. They were younger, in love. Happy. Now he hardly remembers what happiness feels like.

“ I was so nervous to give this to you. Not because I thought you’d say no or anything. I just — I just wanted to be enough. The ring and the proposal and — me. “

“ You were always enough. “ she says and he can hear the tears in her voice. It’s thick and heavy and he knows that if he looks at her now, there will be tears in her eyes too.

But he doesn’t look at her then. His eyes fall onto the piece of fabric in her hands. It’s so small. Soft peached colored with a little bunny embroidered on the front. It’s tiny and cute and it belongs to no one. It’s tiny and it should’ve been theirs. But it isn’t.

“ No, I wasn’t. He says and shakes his head. You deserve more than I can give you. “

She throws the baby romper back into the box and gets off the bed as if someone has set it on fire.

“ What’s wrong? “ he asks as if he doesn’t know. Everything. Everything about this situation is wrong. They’re supposed to make love on this bed, not cry over memories long gone. Push away thoughts of their looming divorce.

“ I don’t know, Bucky. Maybe you can tell me. “ She calls out to him as she pulls the rest of his shirts from the closet and throws them into the bedroom. Colors of fabric flying through the air like wings of a bird flapping through the winds. Some of them she lops at him, passion and anger and wrath and sadness filling her eyes. “ Maybe you can tell me why the fuck we’re doing this. Why we’re putting ourselves through all this pain and suffering and this bullshit divorce. Maybe you can tell me why you left me to have a fucking breakdown every time I walk into my closet and see this goddamn dress, “ she cries while holding up the hanger over which her beautiful white wedding dress is draped. God, she looked so beautiful that day. Like a goddess. Like an angel. Like his redemption.

“ We were happy. We were trying to have a family. And then what — it doesn’t work and you leave? You just gave up. “

“ I didn’t give up. “

“ Yes, you fucking did! You gave up and you served me divorce papers and you didn’t even give me a fucking choice. “

“ You agreed! “

“ Because I love you and if you don’t want to be with me, then I am not keeping you. I love you enough to let you be happy even if it’s without me.”

Those words send a shock through his heart. Like an icicle. Cold and sharp and unforgiving.

“ You think I don’t love you? You think YOU are the reason?,” Bucky questions before grabbing the romper from the box and holding it up “ this is the reason. This is my fault and mine alone. It’s my fault that this belongs to no one. It’s my fault that there’s an empty room in this apartment that you can’t walk into because it hurts you too much to see it empty. You deserve to be a mother and clearly, I can’t give that to you. That’s the burden I carry but it’s not one that should be put on you. I can’t give you this but you deserve it and you should have it. So this is me letting you go so you can find someone that can give you a baby. Someone who isn’t broken. Someone who doesn't have a body that doesn’t work anymore. Not in the way it should. “

“ James, “ her words a but a whisper as his name tumbles from her lips and she lets her wedding dress fall to the floor to sit next to him and hold his face in between her hands. “ That wasn’t your fault and you are not broken. I want a family, yes. I want a child. But with you. I want a family with you and it doesn’t matter if it’s my blood or not. It’s our family whichever way we decide to do this. And if we — if we stay just us and Alpine that’s fine too. I just want you and whatever else we decide on. Together. I love you, James. I love you and I miss you and I don’t want a baby if it’s not with you. A family means nothing if it doesn’t include you. Whatever the consequences of the serum are, they are not your fault. You are not broken, James. You are you. You’re a hero. A husband. And maybe one day a father but above all, you are James Buchanan Barnes, a survivor and you are not broken. “

He knows he should be saying so many things right then but all his thoughts get tangled up and won't find the way to his lips.

Instead, he says the only other thing he can think about right then.

“ You looked so beautiful in your wedding dress. “

She laughs through the flood of tears that leak from her eyes and trail down her face.

“ I mean you always look beautiful but that day. My god. I honestly couldn’t believe you said yes to me — of all people. 106 year old me. Wouldn’t believe it until the moment you walked down the aisle. Then I knew that this was really the start of my new life. Of my forever. “

“ I miss you Bucky. “

“ I miss you too. “

“ I don’t want to divorce you. I want to be your wife and I want you to be my husband.”

“ Even without the babies? “

“ Yes, “ she nods and brushes her fingers through his short hair. “ You are my family James and you are enough for me. Always”

“ I love you. “ he says because really, it’s the only thing he can think of. The thing he wants most. The only thing that matters.

Without another word, he pulls the ring from the box and delicately slips it back onto her finger. Where it belongs. Where it always belonged.

“ I’m sorry I was ever this stupid. I should’ve just talked to you “

“ Yeah you should have but right now can you — can you just kiss me? “

She doesn’t need to ask him twice. He kisses her once, then twice, then once again. It’s been a long long time since the last time he’s kissed her. Too long. Way too long.

He’s not gonna stop anytime soon. Never again. Never ever again.

“ Hey, “ he says “ how about you slip into your wedding dress I think for all my stupid decisions I owe you a dance. “

“ I think you might be right. “

And she’s smiling, so bright and radiant. Like the sun. Like all the stars. Like his own personal light in the darkness.

“ Don’t expect too much though. I just cried, my hair is a mess — I won’t look the way you remember me looking in this dress. “

“ You’ll look gorgeous.”

And he’s right. She looks breathtaking. She looks like a wonderful, wonderful dream. Like love captured in a person. Like a second chance. Like his home.

There are a lot of thoughts racing through Bucky’s mind as he pulls her close and they sway to the melodic tunes of their wedding song as it sounds from the speakers of her cellphone. But above all there’s love. And the knowledge that he is enough. That they are enough. Their tiny little family. Perfect and not broken or missing anything. It’s good as it is.

They don’t have to think about who gets to keep the decorative throw pillows, the records they used to collect together, the plates that were a wedding gift, the cat. Because it’s theirs. Together. Shared.

And forever.

#bucky x f!reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes x female!reader #Bucky Barnes x f!reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes fanfic #bucky barnes imagines #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes x y/n #bucky fanfic #bucky fanfiction #sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x female reader #sebastian stan x female!reader

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whoree321 · 3 years

Text

the bad batch + what romance/rom com movies they watch with you

each of the bad batch x gn!reader

ok first and foremost i really truly believe to the pits of my soul that every single one of these fuckos loves romances and you cannot under any circumstances change my mind

ALSO it’s a gender neutral reader except kinda in echo’s theres like a very brief quote regarding breasts but like i still think even that is pretty gender neutral tbh

so anyway

Hunter: Pretty Woman

this is not the first time that i have publicly declared that i think hunter has a deep rooted connection to the movie pretty woman and it will not be the last

first of all this movie is incredibly soothing to hunters overwhelming savior complex

second of all hunter is literally richard gere (debonaire but emotionally distant gentleman that learns to love) and julia roberts (hooker with a heart of gold) at the same time

he was a little skeptical the first time you put it on but he instantly fell in love with it

the humor, the sensuality, the class divide, the glamour, the unconventional cinderella story of it all. it just really butters his bread

after the first time, when you suggest watching a movie and you pick this one he’ll act very aloof about it (“whatever you want cyar’ika, it doesn’t matter to me”) but secretly he’s really really happy bc it’s one of his favorites (you def know this and def pick it more often)

he absolutely hates the scene when stucky the lawyer hits vivian. like it doesn’t matter how many times he watches it he will fully turn his head away from the screen and say “I don’t like this part” and when it’s over he nuzzles a little closer into you and very tenderly kisses your forehead

he loves the soundtrack too. like he fully exposes how much he likes the movie when you catch him singing or humming “pretty woman” or “it must have been love” absently to himself (you kept it to yourself for a while but eventually you just had to tease him about it. he just smiled a little sheepishly and admitted he liked the songs before promptly changing the subject)

hunter also lowkey definitely wants to recreate the ending where richard gere shows up to her apartment in the white limo with you bc he thinks it’s such a sweet gesture and he wants to treat you like royalty

Crosshair: 10 Things I Hate About You

if there’s one thing about crosshair it’s that he’s a sucker for the enemies to lovers genre

maybe its just him projecting (spoiler alert it most certainly is) but he really enjoys watching the drama conflama of a miserable bastard be tricked into love

and really that’s the true essence of 10 Things I Hate About You

he will grumble and bitch and moan about not wanting to watch a ‘chick flick’ when you put it on, but 15 minutes in and he’s hooked

he has strong negative opinions on literally every single character except for kat and patrick

(crosshair really really wants to think he’s patrick but when it comes down to it he is katarina stratford in every single possible way)

he doesn’t say a word throughout the entire movie but you can tell when he’s annoyed at like bianca or cameron or joey bc he will openly scoff at them

will absolutely hum along in your ear during the “can’t take my eyes off you” scene and make out with you during the paintball scene

(seriously he wants to be patrick verona so bad)

when it’s over and you ask him what he thought he’ll roll his eyes and say “i guess it could have been worse” but his little smirk let’s you know he enjoyed it a lot more than he’s willing to admit

Tech: 50 Shades of Grey

ok hear me out on this one

tech is a huge movie talker. like subtitles are a non-negotiable if you wanna be able to take in any of the movies dialogue bc tech is most likely gonna make commentary over it the whole time

this makes him absolutely indescribably so much fun to watch bad/corny movies with

he will go off about EVERYTHING. the plot, the dialogue, the acting, the costuming, the music, the production quality. nothing and no one is safe. whether you just enjoy letting him talk at you or you join in on the roast, cheesy movies are a hoot between you two

and honey. 50 shades is one of THE cheesiest movies ever

you and tech will literally spend the entire duration of the movie tearing it to shreds

and the thing is tech is a very sarcastic, funny guy when he wants to be (and when it comes to you he definitely wants to be) so by the end of it he will have you in absolute stitches from laughing at the ridiculousness of both the movie and him

with any of the other batchers watching a movie like this either turns into a shy, slightly awkward experience (wrecker, echo) or an incorrigibly horny experience (crosshair, hunter)

but in this context tech literally has no shame or squeamishness about sexual things (why should he it’s a natural biological process?) so to yall the sex stuff is just another thing to roast

literally christian grey could be fully tying dakota johnson down and flogging her and tech will be like “in the last 3 minutes they have panned up to her nipples 4 times. this is criminally shoddy cinematography”

even tho he’s busy giving a detailed play by play critique, he never fails to keep some sort of physical contact with you (wrapping an arm around you and running his hand up and down your skin, playing with your fingers or your hair) so you know he’s enjoying spending this time with you despite his nasty words about the movie

also 1000% after you watch it tech will do extensive research on the ins and outs of bdsm and will have lots of hypotheses he wants to test out (as long as you’re willing and able ofc) ;)))

Wrecker: 13 Going On 30

of all the bad batch members, wrecker is the only one who unabashedly loves any movie that could be considered a chick flick

like he doesn’t even try to hide it or act like he’s too masculine for it. he loves romance and he’s proud of it

this man will have full marathons with you. rom coms, regular roms, tragic roms, hallmark roms, you name it and he’s game

his absolute favorite tho is 13 Going On 30

i feel like he has a huge soft spot for childhood best friends to lovers stories like he finds that type of lifelong partnership so endearing (and he loves to live vicariously through jenna since that type of romance was obviously never an option for him)

wrecker is also very childlike at heart and i think the idea of a 13 year old sweetheart trapped inside the body of a 30 year old cut throat magazine exec is so amusing to him (and maybe makes him feel just a little bit represented in the media)

he is definitely the type to completely engulf you in a cuddle for the entirety of the movie and he DEFINITELY cries into your shoulder at matty’s wedding when jenna is crying on the stoop with her dream house

he wants to try razzles so bad. like so bad. i think if he ever came across them somewhere he would barter at least one of his brothers for them

wrecker really just loves love and watching movies about it just reminds him of how lucky he is to have his own love story with you <3

Echo: The Princess Bride

i feel like it’s glaringly obvious why echo loves this movie

pirates. sword fighting. decades long revenge plots. the value of an honorable, loyal man. true love that never wavers even in the face of devastating tragedy and the darkest of hardships. clever but goofy humor.

echo considers this an action/adventure movie and NOT a romance movie (even tho it 100% totally is a romance movie) and requests to watch it very frequently

he can quote the whole thing. i’m seriously telling you echo loves the princess bride with his whole chest

even tho he refuses to admit it’s a love story above all else, he really does try to model himself in your relationship after wesley

like especially given what happened at the citadel and all the time you thought he was dead, the cinematic parellels are alive and present in y’alls relationship and he strives to be even half the man to you that wesley is to buttercup

literally in your day to day life he will sometimes respond to your requests with a smooth “as you wish ;)” (it doesn’t matter how many times he does it it still gives you butterflies)

when you watch the movie, he snuggles as close to you as possible and does his best to make youre comfy the whole time (he’s insecure about his prosthetics hurting you no matter how much you reassure him they don’t)

he just loves to be able to feel your heartbeat and your laugh when you giggle at the funny bits

every single time without fail at the part when buttercup is about to stab herself he leans down, ghosts his lips against the shell of your ear, and whispers the line in time with wesley: “there’s a shortage of perfect breasts in this world. it would be a pity to damage yours”

every single time without fail you wind up making out until he pulls away and tells you to watch the next part when wesley challenges humperdinck to a duel to the pain

echo just loves you to bits and wants you to know he’d endure a thousand fire swamps for you

Omega: Clueless

i have this really specific obsession with omega being a total girly girl and having very traditionally feminine interests as she keeps experiencing the universe and being exposed to a spectrum of gender expression beyond clone (masc and boring) and kaminoan (ugly)

so with that headcanon of her in mind, it’s vital to me that she sees clueless as soon as possible

clueless is an essential piece of media for a girl entering adolescence and i will die on this hill

it has literally everything you want and everything you need to develop into a well-rounded young woman

it’s so deliciously 90s and glamorama and valley girl humor and camp. its got meaningful female friendships and valuable life lessons and paul mf rudd

if there’s one thing you should encourage a burgeoning hetero teen girl to do, it’s to stick to dating guys like paul rudd in clueless. the earlier this message can be broadcast the better

the second you’re able to steal omega away from hunters watchful eyes (“hunter we’re just gonna watch finding nemo i swear!”) you show her this movie

at this point omega is not really a girly girl, but omega also has absolutely zero feminine influence in her life

the first time she sees clueless she is absolutely obsessed. like seriously she is so enamoured with the glitz and glam of cher horowitz

she asks you questions the entire time. she wants to know about EVERYTHING. the makeup, the clothes, the hair, the slang

(she definitely goes around saying stuff like “i’m totally bugging” for long enough afterwards that almost all of the boys have slipped up at least once with some ridiculous valley girl slang. you thought you were gonna die of laughter when you overheard tech say “as if!” to wrecker in the middle of an argument)

it just really introduces her to this whole world of femininity that she didn’t even know existed and she absolutely loves it

she makes you watch clueless with her seriously once a week at minimum. she begs you to style her hair like tai’s and you can’t help yourself when you happen to run across a little yellow plaid dress and buy it for her on sight

(hunter was gonna scold you for recklessly spending credits until he saw how omega almost cried from how happy she was for the gift)

honestly she enjoys the romance of it all and paul rudd is def her first celebrity crush but she enjoys more that you and her now have this special thing of hair and nails and pretty dresses

she loves how confident and beautiful and special you’re able to make her feel, and you love that you get to bring her that small sense of normalcy and happiness

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chrisevansjellybeans · 3 years

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Undercover- Mob! Steve Rogers Part 2

Okay here is the highly requested part two to my Mob! Steve post! I had some technical difficulties posting it but hopefully you guys see it in the tags now :)

Warnings: swearing and smut

Word count: 2.8k

“When I said go undercover, I didn’t mean under his covers, Agent.” Director Fury slammed his hand down on his desk. It had now officially been twenty-four hours since your encounter with the mob boss and you had been waiting anxiously all day to talk with Nick Fury. The rumor around the office all day was that he wasn’t too pleased with how things went down.

“I did what I had to do, sir.” You stated boldly.

Fury scoffed but didn’t respond.

He was quiet for a moment, his eye scanning over the piece of paper in his hand. You fidgeted uncomfortably as your legs were still sore from your romp last night and you tried to hold it together as Fury gave you a weird look.

“Just sit down, Y/N.”

You muttered a thank you as you took a seat.

“Listen, this is all good and fine but I want more. This,” He waved the note in his hand. “Is just a drug felony. I want this bastard put away for life.”

“But what about Stark?”

“A slippery politician, nothing more. I want insight on just more than this. I want it all.”

You sat back in the chair. You understood where he was coming from, but he was also acting like you hadn’t just uncovered a huge piece of information.

“Sir-”

“Which is why you’re going to continue...seeing Rogers. Your undercover assignment has just been extended until further notice.”

“But, sir!” You stood up in protest.

“But nothing, Agent. You’ve made your bed and you’ve already lied in it. Now do it again.” He snapped.

“Are you pimping me out, sir?”

“You did that yourself, Y/N.” Fury snarked. “Anyway, as we speak I have other agents creating an entire new identity for you on the internet so when Roger’s does eventually look you up he’ll find everything we want him to find.”

You felt yourself sinking back down into the chair. He was being completely serious. You suddenly felt very hot as you processed all the information coming at you.

“And what exactly is it going to say?”

“That you are Y/N Monroe. You are the same age as you are now and a barista at the coffee shop just below your apartment. You went to the University of Minnesota and graduated with a business degree, but currently can’t find any jobs. Pity. Your parents died when you were young and you have no siblings-no need to wrap anyone else up in this. We’ve made an Instagram account since that seems to be the most popular app among adults your age. I pushed for no socials but apparently it’s weirder if you don’t have one.”

“Okay...but I don’t have a coffee shop below my apartment.”

“You do now. Your stuff is being moved into a safe house apartment on the other side of town. That’s where you’ll be staying for now. Don’t worry, I have Parker holed up in the apartment two doors down.”

You bit the inside of your cheek to try to calm down. There was nothing else you could do. Fury was right, you had made your bed. You reached over and grabbed the file that Fury had pushed towards the front of the desk. Your new life all put together in a Manila folder.

Damn you, Ma and your slutty advice.

“You can go now.” Fury waved you away, now totally focused on whatever file he had in front of him. You hesitated, wanting to say something but nothing came so you left.

“Y/N!” Peter ran up beside you as you stormed down the hallway. “Heard we’re gonna be neighbors.”

You smiled at how excited he was. “It’s only temporary, Parker. Don’t wet your pants.”

Peter blushed and gently shoved you to the side as you both continued walking. “I know that. But doesn’t mean it won’t be fun. We could have movie nights or something.”

“I suppose we could find some time.” You nudged him back.

“Oh here, before I forget.” Peter shoved a brand new iPhone into your hand. “Fury had me add some tweaks to the geo location so it’s more precise than what Apple has. My burner number is already programmed in there too.”

You studied the burner phone, impressed that they didn’t just give you another shitty tracfone like you were used to.

“Thanks, kid.”

“I’m not that much younger than you.” Peter grumbled as the two of you finally made it to the parking structure.

You smirked over your shoulder as you walked up to your Jeep Wrangler. “Young enough. ‘Night, kid!”

Peter flipped you off but was smiling the whole time as you drove off.

You punched in your new address in the GPS and followed along as it brought you to the older part of town. You had always loved this part of the city but never thought to move out here. Even though it wasn’t the new upcoming neighborhood, the rent prices had been driven up by the young kids moving in who just “adored the old time aesthetic” and the lofted buildings.

Your building was one of those you noted as you parked your car outside of your new address. The old brick building was tall, maybe six stories and had fire escapes littered across the front of it. The front door was a rusted green that you had to yank to budge to get open.

Extra security, I suppose. You laughed to yourself.

Your apartment was on the third floor and right off the freight elevator. You weren’t expecting much when you opened the door but you made a noise of pleasant surprise when you did.

The inside was warm and inviting. A plush gray sofa that resembled a cloud was center in your living room that you saw right away from the small entry hallway. As you stepped in further you saw a decent size tv mounted against the wall and two bookshelves on either side of it, filled with books and records that went along with the record player that was right underneath the television. To the left the living room was the kitchen. Nothing big, which you didn’t mind-you weren’t the best cook in the world. There was a small bar-like counter that had two barstools perched underneath. Down the small hallway you found your bedroom. A king sized bed covered in an off white comforter set with matching sheets. Small potted plants hung from the corner near the window and an array of makeup and perfumes littered the top of the wooden dresser.

Tentatively you opened the dressers to find a whole new wardrobe waiting for you. There were basics: such as t-shirts, jeans, bras and panties but there was also a whole drawer dedicated to skimpy lingerie that you knew was expensive. The walk-in closet was filled with dresses, some formal and some you wouldn’t let your grandmother even see hanging off the rack.

“Well done, Fury.” You mumbled to yourself as your fingers ran down the silk fabric of a long evening gown.

You were settling on to your couch, sweats on and a glass of wine in your hand when you heard a knock on the door. Slowly you got up, grabbing your gun from the plant next to the door. You looked through the peephole and let out a curse when you saw none other than Steve Rogers standing outside your apartment.

You shoved the gun back into the plant and ran your fingers through your hair before opening the door, but leaving the chain attached.

“Mr. Rogers, how can I help you?” Your eyes twinkled as the man in front of you rested his arm on the top of the door frame and leaned close to the opening you had created.

“You said I would see you soon, princess. Looks like soon is now.” The nickname again caused your stomach to flutter.

“I was just getting ready for bed. You’ll have to come by another time.” You feigned a yawn. Steve’s eyes blared as he stood up straight.

“It’s rude to keep your guests waiting, Miss Monroe.” Your heart jumped at the use of your alias. Thank god your team worked fast.

“And it’s rude to show up to people’s apartments unannounced, Mr. Rogers.”

“Open the door, sweetheart.” He hissed, but his eyes held anything but anger. He was intrigued. He never found a woman before who wasn’t afraid to dish back his sass. He wasn’t sure if he liked it or not.

“Say please.” You teased through the opening.

“Please.” He said through gritted teeth.

Chuckling you closed the door gently and undid the chain. Before you could reopen it though, Steve pushed his way through scooping you up in his arms as he did. You naturally wrapped your legs around his waist and your arms held tight around him as you squealed against his neck.

He walked you back into the living room and plopped down on the couch, holding you so you were still straddling him.

You pulled away but kept your arms hanging loosely around him. He smirked up at you as his fingers toyed with the hem of the tank top you had on. His eyes fell to the wine that was only half drank on your coffee table.

“Heading off to bed soon, huh?”

“My bedtime snack.”

There was a part of your brain that recognized him for who he was: evil. But another part of your brain saw him as the man who made your body feel things that it had never felt before and that had your heart racing like a schoolgirl with a crush. The part that recognized that he was so easy to talk and joke with. The great sex wasn’t a bummer either.

His smirk was replaced by a genuine smile as he pulled you down and gave you a kiss that had your toes curling. He moaned into your mouth as you slowly ground your hips against his, your fingers tugging at the hair by his neck. His tongue massaged yours, letting you know exactly who was in charge at this moment. His hands ran underneath your tank top, fingers tracing up your spine before reaching the front and giving your nipples a slight twist.

He moved his mouth from yours and peppered kisses along the side of your neck as he lifted the tank top over your head. He threw it to the side as his mouth attached to your protruding bud while his fingers pinched and toyed with the other one. Skillfully, and with his mouth still attached to you, Steve flipped you over so your back was on the couch and he was on top of you. He lifted his head, his blue eyes clouded with lust as he started kissing down from the center of your chest, down your stomach and down your legs as he pulled your sweats along with him.

He hummed as he spread your bottom lips apart with his fingers, licking a stripe from your hole to your clit. You wiggled your hips against his face but he responded with a smack against your core.

“Honey, you gotta learn who’s in charge here and who’s-“ he kissed your clit ever so slightly, teasing you. “Just a little cock slut.”

His tongue circled over your bundle of nerves while fingers toyed with your slick. Gently he pushed two fingers into your pussy. Your eyes fluttered closed as his steady rhythm and flick of his tongue brought your orgasm to the forefront.

“Shit, Steve…” you whimpered, gripping his hair and pulling him close. “Oh fuck, I’m close!”

“Let me taste you, princess.” Steve growled. You nearly lost it at the sigh of your juices dripping from his chin. “Give it to me like the good girl you are.”

“Oh god!” You called out as he hit that spongy spot that caused your thighs to tighten around his head. Your body spasmed as it rode out your orgasm. Your chest heaving and your legs shaking as he slowly pulled his fingers from you. A moan was caught in your throat as you watched him put his soaked fingers between his lips, a look of pure satisfaction covering his perfect face.

Steve leaned his body over yours but careful not to let his full weight fall on you. He ran his nose up the side of your neck, along your cheek before letting it rub against your own. You grabbed his neck, pulling him into a deep kiss. There was something so erotic about tasting yourself when your tongues met.

“Show me your bedroom?” Steve pulled away. You gave a weak nod. Steve stood up and hoisted you up, your legs weak beneath you.

“Poor baby.” He cooed in your ear. “Only one orgasm down and already can’t walk. I can’t imagine how you’ll be when I’m done with you.”

With that he lifted you and walked down your short hallway to the bedroom. In your hazy, post orgasm mind you hoped the mattress was comfy. You hadn’t even tested out beforehand.

Steve threw you on the bed and you sighed as you fell into the cloud. You leaned back on your elbows and watched as Steve unbuttoned the new shirt and trousers he had on. You stifled your laughter thinking about the wine stained ones back at his house.

“Something amusing to you, sweetheart?” He grabbed your ankle and pulled you towards the end of the bed. He lifted your foot up, setting it over his shoulder as he kissed the inside of your calf.

“No, sir.” You teased.

“You’re a bad liar.” He nipped at your knee.

Not as bad as you might think.

Steve made you come at least four more times that night. Your body completely spent when he finally rolled over and laid next to you, yours and his body covered in a thin sheen of sweat.

You rolled over and threw your leg and arm over his body, nuzzling your head into the crook of his neck. Steve’s fingers toyed with yours as he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Spend the night?” You asked into the darkness. It was nearly three in the morning and your eyes were slowly closing no matter how much you willed them to stay open.

“I have some business things that I have to take care of early in the morning.” He answered, his fingers running up and down your arm.

“Oh, okay.” You said sadly. Steve’s chest rumbled with light laughter as he brought your hand that was in his up to his lips and gave it a kiss. You were soon realizing that he was actually a very affectionate person.

“But I want you to come back to the house tomorrow. I’ll send one of my guys for you in the afternoon.”

“Really?” You sat up. Steve blindly reached for your nightstand and turned on the lamp that was on it. His hair was tousled from the numerous times you had run your fingers through it and his lips were red and swollen. He looked like the epitome of sex and it was fucking hot.

“Yes, really.” He chuckled. He grabbed your phone that was on the nightstand and held it out for you to unlock. You did quickly and he took it back and started typing. “I don’t give out my personal number to a lot of people.”

“So I’m special.” You wiggled in your spot, a grin covering your face.

“Yes. You are.” Steve looked back at you and you were taken aback by the sincerity in his tone. He handed your phone back to you and you laughed at the name he had for his contact: Steve Rogers and an eggplant emoji.

“You’re a child.” You giggled.

Steve rolled his eyes and got out of bed and you took the time to appreciate his bum as he walked over to get his pants.

You gathered the soft sheets in your hand and brought them up to your chest. Although you weren’t sure what you were trying to hide, he had seen it all.

Once he was dressed and you slipped on a robe that you found hanging behind the door, you walked him out. He stood in your doorframe, his large figure making the space seem very small. He smiled as he tucked a loose piece of hair behind your head and leaned down and gave you a kiss.

“Make sure to lock all the doors behind me. And text me when you wake up tomorrow.” He demanded softly.

“Mmmkay, I will.” You said hazily.

“Go get some sleep, princess.” He laughed as he pushed away from the door and walked to the elevator. You watched as he got in and gave you a quick wave before whipping out his phone to make a call.

Once he was out of sight you closed the door softly, making sure to bolt everything before heading back to your bed. You were too tired to even clean up before you passed out.

#chris evans imagine #chris evans x reader #chris evans fanfiction #mob steve rogers #steve rogers imagine #steve rogers x reader #mob! steve x reader

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