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taestefully-in-luv · 4 years ago

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Always You | JJK (Two)

Summary: you and Jungkook have been best friends since freshmen year of college, there’s a lot of unsaid feelings and tension but neither make a move. what happens when his friend Taehyung (also your crush) needs a fake girlfriend?

Pairing: Jungkook x Female reader, slight Taehyung x Reader

Genre: friends to lovers, idiots to lovers, roommate au, college au, SMUT (starting ch2), fluff, angst (in later chapters) slight crack, lots of drama

Word Count: 9.3k

Warnings: Swearing, alcohol consumption, oc is a bad friend:(, sexual tension (?), body image issues, oc is feeling a lil insecure, mentions of sex, sounds of sex, crying, male masturbation, fantasy includes: spanking and vaginal intercourse.

Notes: thanks for the love for the first part…heres part 2! I hope everyone enjoys:) get ready for drama to come hahaha. If you wanted to be added to the taglist just send me an ask or whatevs, and feel free to send one if you want to discuss the story!

Taglist: @monvieesdaebak @mooniyooni @thisartemisnevermisses @giadalin @kookiebunny097 @cosmosjk @moonchild1 @just-jeon @anpanman-sonyeondan @starlight-night0 @yessii-i

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Gentleman: “A civilized, educated, sensitive, or well-mannered man.” Is how the dictionary defines the word but if you were to look up the term in your own dictionary it would just be a picture of Taehyung’s handsome as hell face.

Opening the car door, pulling your chair out, holding your hand, softly gripping your waist, making you feel like the only one in the room—Taehyung is doing everything right. Your mind should be overwhelmed with the thought of Taehyung. He should be filling your every sense, he should be the only thing you can understand. He should be. But every time his perfect lips land on the skin of your cheek, your mind somehow finds Jungkook. That son of a bitch.

There’s a string of warm lights dangling on the restaurants brick walls, and it’s almost picture perfect but one of the bulbs is out and it’s making the scene less ideal. Your eyes keep going back to the one bulb that refuses to shine. You just want everything to be perfect.

“I know I already told you…” Taehyung is sitting across from you, his gentle smile making your heart flutter, “But you look so pretty tonight.”

You know you should be gazing into his chocolate eyes but you can’t keep your eyes from shifting towards that stupid ass bulb. All the other bulbs are lit up just fucking fine but this bulb wants to be difficult. It just hasto go against everyone else. Your eyes narrow at the string of lights and you scoff. This stupid bulb reminds you of someone.

Taehyung brought you to a decently fancy restaurant, the food is alright but he says the main attraction is the monster baked cookie with ice cream melting over the top. He is excited like a child at the mention of his favorite dessert, you can’t help but smile fondly towards him.

“So…” Taehyung slides the dessert closer to you, “I never asked but how did Jungkook take the whole not really talking in public thing?”

Your eyes shoot up to the stupid bulb and you blink at it a few times. “I…” Your gaze drifts back to him. “I didn’t tell him.”

Taehyung drops his napkin at the news, his eyes slightly widening as he processes your words.

“We just aren’t talking right now.”

You wince as the words leave your mouth, but it’s true. You are a coward who is just ignoring her best friend because you don’t have the balls to face him. You don’t have the balls to forgive him and you definitely don’t have the balls to inform him that he’s out of the picture for a month. Because you don’t have the balls to admit to yourself you chose a boy over your friend. Basically you’re just a bitch with no balls!

“Yeah, he isn’t really talking to me either.” Taehyung chuckles bitterly, “He’s really against this…I mean, I knew he was protective over you but��”

“Protective my ass.” You lean back in your chair, “He’s just being stupid.”

Taehyung looks at you and frowns. It makes you want to kiss his pouting lips.

“But thank you.”

Taehyung’s quizzical expression makes you snort,

“For the compliment. Thank you. You look really handsome as well.” You smile, your hand sliding across the table to hold his. You gently squeeze and pull back, letting go. Taehyung smiles at you but something strange settles in his eyes. He’s struck with an awkward expression as he forces another smile, his lips pulled together tightly.

“Thanks y/n” He opens his mouth then closes then opens, “For doing this. Seriously, thank you.”

“Well, you’re kind of supplying me with free coffee.” You laugh into your hand.

“Regardless,” Taehyung leans back in his chair, “You’re a good friend.”

Right. Friend... But you feel optimistic you will flee this place! The god forsaken friend zone! You smile at Taehyung, grabbing your fork and cutting into the cookie with it. You stare into Taehyung’s dark eyes as you bring the fork to your lips—okay yes, you are most definitely trying to make this sexy—you open your mouth wide and wrap you lips around the piece of cookie, you never break contact with Taehyung. You chew slowly and roll your eyes to the back of your head, like the dramatic ass bitch you are. You open an eye to see his reaction, you see him gulp and a small smile begins forming on his lips.

“mmm” you moan again.

“RIGHT?!”

~~~

“We got some pretty insta worthy photos!” Taehyung chuckles into your hair as he pulls back from the hug. “I would say tonight was a success!”

Right. A success. Because this is all for show. To get this Anna girl off his back. Not because he likes you or anything. You can’t help but feel disappointed in his words.

“That’s good Tae.” Your hands linger on his back, not wanting to let go completely. “I’ll see you tomorrow right?”

“And the next day and the next day,” he teases, “And don’t forget this weekend is the pool party at my friend Jin’s house.” Then Taehyung nibbles on his lips, “Jungkook is going…so you should probably talk to him.”

You probably should of figured Jungkook is going to go…but that doesn’t stop you from feeling shocked. You should tell him he needs to lay low in public for a month but you guys aren’t talking already so do you really have to have that discussion with him?

“We’ll see.”

Taehyung steps forward and grabs your hand, “y/n…I know I said no Jungkook but I really just meant that you two aren’t all over each other in public…you don’t have to ignore him at home too…I’m sure he isn’t feeling great about it. And honestly, it makes me feel guilty too.” He admits softly, his hand feels sweaty in yours.

“He’s an asshole.” You let go of his hand, you feel your chest tighten and you hate yourself.

“Why?”

“It doesn’t matter. I should get inside now.”

“Okay…” Taehyung leans in for another quick hug and places a kiss on your forehead. You wish you could enjoy it but on the other side of this forehead are thoughts of Jungkook. Once again, that son of a bitch.

~~~

The next few days pass quickly, you and Taehyung have gone on two more dates.

The second date felt like a movie—it was classic and dreamy. Taehyung picked you up and drove you over to the next town that was having a carnival. You walked around holding hands, eating cotton candy and laughing at his jokes. The night ended with the ferris wheel, where you two got some insta worthy pictures—one shot including his lips on yours.

It felt so surreal. He posted it on Instagram that night with the caption ‘Her’ with purple hearts and within a couple hours there were at least 50 comments congratulating the two of you.

Third date you two went to a drive in theater. You fed each other popcorn, talked over the radio’s audio and took snaps to prove your date to the world.

This week has been nothing short of amazing. Taehyung is absolutely perfect. You feel like the only girl in the world with him. Like you don’t have to compete with anyone. Unfortunately, the week may have felt amazing on the outside, on the inside it’s been…weird.

The weird part of this week is the lack of Jungkook. Your usual cereal at noon on Tuesdays didn’t happen, your usual weekly episode of My Hero didn’t happen, your usual chit chat and banter didn’t occur. Just silence and awkward passes.

It’s all your doing though…Jungkook has tried. He still sat at the breakfast table munching on Apple Jacks while you passed him by, walking out your front door to meet Taehyung. He saved this week’s episode to your list so you could watch it. He has sent you multiple texts saying he’s sorry and he misses you but you ignored them. You have purposely started putting a distance between the two of you and it makes you uncomfortable.

You remind yourself that, besides doing this because Taehyung requested it, it is also for the best.

~~~

You sit at the edge of your bed staring at the bouquet of flowers Taehyung had sent you this morning. You eye the flowers, taking in their gorgeous appearance. They’re open and full and colorful. But why do you look at them and feel disappointed?

They seem to be begging for water, so you stand to your feet and grab the bouquet. You head for the kitchen to find your mothers crystal vase so you can place the beautiful flowers in it.

Jungkook is sitting at the breakfast table, slurping on some noodles and playing on his phone. You completely ignore him as you walk into the kitchen.

You stand on your tip toes to try to reach the vase in the cupboard but it’s too high for you. God damn it, you think. There’s no way in hell you’re asking Jungkook for help, no way in hell!

*about 10 pathetic seconds later*

“Jungkook, will you help me?”

You don’t even turn around to face him, you just raise your voice so hears you. Yeah, you’re a coward. You hear the screech of the chair against the tiled floor and you shiver. Jungkook doesn’t say anything as he walks up behind you, his chest coming flush against your back and you swear if he tried to pay attention he could probably feel your heartbeat through the contact. You stay frozen as he reaches his arms above you and grabs the vase. He must of just done laundry because his detergent fills your nostrils, its clean and refreshing. He sets the vase down on the counter and he continues to stand closely behind you, his scent now overwhelming your senses.

“These flowers are pretty.” He leans down to say in your ear. His hand coming down to hold on to your waist. “But you only like tulips.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes, “These are fine too.”

“Yeah, they are.” He admits. “But they’re not what you want.” He squeezes your waist, then he’s backing away from your body and a chill is left behind as he gets further away. It’s like the further he walks away from you the colder you become. As if Jungkook is the source of your warmth.

~~~

It’s Saturday afternoon and you are finally done getting ready. Taehyung is taking you out to a pool party today, hosted by one of his close friends—Jim? No, Jin. You know you’ve heard Jungkook talk about him before but haven’t gotten the chance to meet him since he’s a bit older and already graduated.

You look in the mirror as you tug your oversized shirt over your shorts. Underneath is a plain black bikini but unfortunately today is not a good day—you’re bloated as hell and it shows. At least you think it does. You continue to rate yourself in the mirror when Jungkook walks past your room.

“Didn’t know you were so self obsessed.” He pops in to say.

You turn to face him and as soon as he sees your frustrated expression he knows you’re on the verge of waterworks.

“Woah woah, whats wrong?” Jungkook is quick to rush to your side. You’ve been ignoring him for a week yet he still rushes to you when you need him. You’re a god damn bitch.

“I feel fat but I have a pool party to attend to and—”

“You’re going to that too…?” Jungkook eyes the ground under his feet. He sounds disappointed.

You try to steady your breathing but you feel a breakdown coming and Jungkook can sense it too.

“You’re not fat.” He states plainly.

“You wouldn’t know with these clothes I’m wearing.” You try to reason.

“Then take them off and show me.” He’s obviously aware of the bathing suit underneath but still, his words do something strange to you.

“No, I’m ugly.” Is all you respond with.

“y/n I don’t have time for this, either show me or like, don’t go.”

“Fine!”

You begin unbuttoning your shorts, painfully slow. He watches as you fumble with the zipper as you slide it down. You drag the shorts down your legs one by one and then you reach for the hem of your shirt pulling it over your head. This leaves you half naked and feeling incredibly vulnerable.

Jungkook eyes you up and down quite shamelessly. His tongue darts out to lick his lip and he muffles a groan,

“You look fine.” He says so nonchalantly it makes you want to pull his hair out.

“Just fine?”

“You look good y/n” he says, his eyes sliding to the left. You don’t feel quite satisfied with his answer so you step towards him, getting so close he is forced to step back until his back is against the wall.

“How good?” you say, your voice dipping lower than usual, “So good you would—"

Bbbrrrr bbbrrrr bbrrrrr bbrrrr

Your phone.

“Hello? ….Hey Tae. No need, I’ll just meet you at your car. Okay, bye.” You click the phone off and throw it on your bed. You gather your clothes and put them back on as Jungkook stands there awkwardly. Once you have your things you turn to face Jungkook.

“Well Tae is here…” you motion towards the door. “Look, if you’re going to be at the party can you try to…respect my fake relationship? We wanna make it as real as poss—”

“I get it.” Jungkook snaps before walking out your bedroom. Fantastic.

~~~

“And this is y/n.” Taehyung pushes you forward by the shoulders as you stumble in front of all these new faces.

“Hi everyone.” You squeak out.

Everyone gives you a warm welcome, many handshakes and hugs later you feel well acquainted. You notice a familiar face. He’s laughing with Jin over some beers and you smile in their direction. Namjoon, a friend you met freshmen year. He notices you look in his direction and he waves you over. So you walk towards him and Jin, Namjoon handing you a drink as you get closer.

“Long time no see y/n!” his dimples light up the entire backyard. He glances between you and Taehyung, who is chatting with some others.

“You and our Taehyungie, huh?” He grins at you, “honestly, I thought you would end up with Jungkook.” You can’t help but blush at that. A real deep blush. Namjoon chuckles but his eyes hold pity.

“no no not Jungkook.” You laugh awkwardly.

“Well, Jungkook has always spoken really highly of you so I am sure Taehyung is a lucky guy.” Jin chimes in.

For some reason you feel sick at that. Jungkook speaks highly of you? Yet here you are ignoring him for another guy. You are avoiding your own best friend because of a boy. Fuck, you are the worst.

“thanks guys…well, I’m gonna go see Tae.”

You walk over to Taehyung, and when he spots you he absolutely lights up. His boxy grin taking over his entire face.

“There’s my girl,” he pulls you in for a hug and places a kiss to your head. You want to melt, you want to feel the lava of love drown you but instead you feel anxious as you notice Jungkook from across the yard. He’s got a beer to his lips and his eyes on you.

“Thanks for doing this y/n.” Taehyung also catches the pair of eyes watching the two of you. He meets Jungkook’s hard gaze and automatically Taehyung is filled with anxiety as well. Jungkook just shakes his head towards his friend and takes a generous sip of his drink.

“Everything okay?” you ask, squeezing his hand in yours.

“Everything is fine.” He says with a tight lip smile. “Just glad you’re here.” He says honestly.

A few hours pass, and the whole gang is crowded in the pool. Mostly everyone is drunk, but you are pretty sober. Not wanting a repeat of last weekend. Yikes, amirite ladies? Taehyung has his hands all over you, which you don’t really mind. The thought of him touching you was once something that might make you faint but you’ve grown comfortable. Your eyes scan the pool when you notice Jungkook is nowhere to be found. Did he go home already? Maybe he was feeling so down because you’ve been ignoring him…god, you hate yourself. You just need to talk to him. You’re a shitty friend, for sure.

“I’m gonna be right back,” you whisper to Taehyung. He only nods his head and continues chatting with his friends.

Jin’s house is beyond nice, and also huge. You are trying to find the bathroom but feel like you are opening every door but the one you’re looking for. There’s only one door left at the end of the main hall and you bet your entire ass it’s the bathroom. You reach for the door knob when you hear something muffled on the other side. Oh, it’s taken.

“Thanks for this.” It’s a woman’s voice.

“No problem.” Its Jungkook. You feel your stomach drop. What makes you feel worse is how detached Jungkook sounds. He sounds far away and broken. The doorknob begins to rattle and you try to make a run for it in time but are too late. The door is swinging open and one of Jin’s friends is walking out and in the background you see Jungkook zipping up his pants. His eyes meet yours and you want to run the fuck away.

“y/n?” Jungkook’s eyes expand twice their size as he spots you.

“I was…I was just looking for the bathroom.”

Jungkook’s face hardens, “Well, you found it.” He makes his way to pass you but you grab on to his arm to stop him.

“Wait,” you breathe in and out, trying to give yourself time to think of what you want to say.

“What is it?” his voice is somehow softer than he probably intended.

“I want to talk to you…explain to you why I’ve been ignoring you.”

“Yeah, you’re still pissed at me, I fucking get it.” He spits out bitterly.

“It’s…it’s more than that.”

“More than that? Did I do something more? What did I do? y/n just tell me…” He rocks back and forth on his heels, his eyes glued to the ground.

“You’re going to be so mad at me, maybe even hate me—”

“You know I could never hate you.” He whispers, sounding so sincere it crushes you.

You glance around your surroundings, making sure no one is around and drag him back into the bathroom for some privacy. You shut the door behind you, trying so hard to ignore the smell of sex.

“Tae thought—” you begin but Jungkook is already rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Of course Tae thought.” His tone almost scares you. “Let me guess? Taehyung doesn’t want me around while you guys are fake dating. That’s not fucking weird to you?” He grits between his teeth. He balls up his fists at his side, you see his knuckles turn white and it makes you feel uneasy.

“He made some good points…”

“Oh really?” Jungkook laughs bitterly, “Like what?”

You looked into Jungkook’s doe eyes and feel a sense of guilt, like you somehow made the wrong choice.

“He thinks we’re too close. And he’s right. It would be weird if I’m super closer to another guy while dating him.” you reason, but your face falls when you see Jungkook’s scrunched up expression.

“You think we’re too close?” he whispers.

Well, yes. But also, no. Of course not, but also yes. How do you tell Jungkook all of that?

“People always think we’re dating or fucking or—”

“Oh? And all the sudden we care what people think?” his voice wavers from the rollercoaster of emotions he is feeling.

“Jungkook wait, I’m wording this all wrong. It’s just for a month okay?”

“You wanna date him that badly? That you would throw me away?” he grits out.

“Hey! That’s not fucking fair.”

“So what? Say your little fantasy comes true and he decides he wants to date you for real? Am I still out of the picture?”

“No no, of course not…” you shake your head and reach for his hands but he pulls away.

“So then what’s the difference now?”

Jungkook has a good point but you’re at a loss for words. Too choked up to speak.

“And you know what y/n? Fuck you for choosing him over me in the first place.” And with that Jungkook breezes past you, swings open the bathroom door and is out of your view.

Jungkook has never spoken to you like that before, you stand there with your mouth hung open and tears forming in your eyes.

He’s right. You fucked up. You did a fucked up thing. You chose a boy who may not even actually like you over the one guy who has always had your back.

“y/n?” you snap your head in the direction of the door to see Taehyung standing there. A look of disappointment decorating his face.

“I was told you and Jungkook were in the bathroom…” he spits out.

“I had to talk to him, that’s all.”

“Yeah, but how does this look for me?” Taehyung speaks sternly. You did NOT need this right now.

“Tae—”

“You couldn’t even last more than a week y/n.” he scoffs.

“Listen could we just talk about this later?” you ask with pleading eyes.

“I’ll call an uber.” He motions towards the hallway, “we can talk tomorrow.”

You slump your shoulders and nod your head, tomorrow sounds like it’s for the best.

3 days have passed and neither Jungkook nor Taehyung have talked to you.

You hear Jungkook come in and out of the apartment but you’re too shy to make a move outside of your bedroom. He’s either coming from classes, the gym, Jimins, or some girls house and you’re dying to know which.

You have been hibernating in your room, taking comfort in your bed when you get a notification from Instagram.

@V tagged you in a post.

You scramble to unlock your phone so you can view the post. Once you are on the app you click on you notifs and click on the post.

It’s a picture of you eating cotton candy from when he took you to the fair on your date. With the caption:

“Missing my girl tonight”

And a bunch of heart emojis. Your own heart sinks. He misses you? You close the app and instead open your messages.

y/n 9:08pm

You miss me for the show or is there some truth behind that?

Taehyung 9:20pm

Maybe it’s both?

Taehyung 9:22pm

I am sorry for how I left things…I was just kinda embarrassed that my supposed girl was with another guy,,,in a bathroom.

y/n 9:24pm

trust me I know how it looks and im sorry…

y/n 9:26pm

If it makes you feel any better Jungkook isn’t talking to me either.

Taehyung 9:26pm

Of course that doesn’t make me feel better, he is your best friend…

y/n 9:28pm

tae, I hope we can continue this…I still want to help you…

Taehyung 9:34pm

Ill pick you up at 6 for a date tmrw: )

y/n 9:34pm

I cant wait: ) : )

You click your phone off and toss it on the other side of the bed, you squeal in excitement as the realization hits that Taehyung still wants to do this with you.

You hear Jungkook on the other side of the wall, yelling into what you assume is his headset. He’s gaming. You miss him so god damn much. He has no idea what his silence is doing to you. You try to focus your attention on tomorrows date with Taehyung but you can’t help the feeling in the pit of your stomach. Guilt. You were an awful friend and now thinking about it you are continuing to be an awful friend. If he even counts you as friends anymore.

“fuck you”

Those words ring loud and clear in your ears. You didn’t even know Jungkook was capable of speaking to you like that. It fucking hurts.

Jungkook is in his room pacing back and forth. He saw it. The insta post. And he feels like he’s losing you. Neither of you have made a move to speak to the other. He’s just too hurt and you continue to see Taehyung? You obviously don’t feel too bad about the whole ordeal. And 3 days is just too long. A week was too long, but somehow these 3 days are worse.

Jungkook grabs his phone and opens up tinder. He messages one of the girls that’s been teasing him lately. He figures now is the time to make more of a move.

Jungkook 10:00pm

Hey ;) what are you doing tonight?

Leslie 10:10pm

Gonna be thinking about you probably;)

Jungkook 10:12pm

Instead of thinking about me, come see me.

And that was it, that’s all it took. She was quick to agree and he is already sending her the address.

It’s after 11pm when you hear the front door open, you quietly get out of bed, curiosity getting the best of you. Was Jungkook leaving? But then you hear a girls voice and you immediately frown. Oh. She sounds pretty. Is that even a thing? Well, she does. And it has you feeling weird. You thought you were over this.

You hear the patter of their footsteps walking towards Jungkook’s room, the sound of his door opening and closing just like that.

You walk back to your bed feeling ashamed for spying, but now you know you won’t be getting any sleep tonight. Fanfuckingtastic.

“aaahhh…” the random girl whines out causing you to shift uncomfortably in your bed.

“More?” you can hear Jungkook’s muffled voice, he sounds strained. Probably because he’s fucking some girl a few feet away from you.

You reach over to your nightstand for your headphones when you hear Jungkook grunting as the beds headboard bangs against your wall, he groans and moans and you feel yourself getting hotter.

You try not to imagine Jungkook in these scenarios but he sounds…no, you won’t have those thoughts…you don’t want to remember. Your hand is still midair when you retreat it back to your bed.

“Fuck yeah baby.” You hear him gripe. And you squeeze your thighs together. No, this cannot be happening.

“Jungkook! Jungkook!” Fuck, she sounds so fucked out.

“Feels so good, feels so good” he pants over and over and you feel the back of your eyes burn.

“gonna come” he groans out and your chest is heaving now, your breathing becoming a chore. You can’t cry, not over this. He hates you and he’s buried in some other girl. And you want to fucking crying about it. You hear him moaning on the other side of the wall and then—

“Fuuuuuuccckk” his orgasm is fucking apparent. He’s obviously coming and you’re lying in your bed all fucking pathetic with tears staining your cheeks.

Jungkook lays in bed totally fucked out of his mind. This girl is sleeping next to him, trying to her best to cuddle but he resists. He wishes he had time to himself to think properly. He just fucked another girl and thought of you the entire time. He is 100% fucked up. Wait, wait. He needs to explain himself…it’s not like he thought of you like, sexually. It’s just you’re all that’s on his mind. Even during fucking sex. And he hates himself for it.

He decides to sneak out of bed to have a shower. He creaks open his door for any sign of life and when there is none he tip toes to the bathroom. Jungkook stands in the shower letting the warm water cascade over his skin, he just stands there lifeless.

Images of you cross his mind and he sinks to his knees, pulling them into his chest and he quietly curses under his breath. He misses you so much and things have gotten so messed up he just doesn’t even know how to fix it.

He scrubs himself clean, ridding the scent of the random girl he brought over. He sniffles under the raining water hating himself.

Jungkook dries himself off with your towel, and puts on his shorts. His chest left bare.

He exits the bathroom when he notices a light coming from the kitchen and sees you sitting at the table with a glass of water.

“oh.” Jungkook slips up.

“oh?” you wonder.

“I thought you were fast asleep.” He says, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish grin.

“Just woke up.�� You lie through your teeth with a strained smile. “Couldn’t sleep…”

“I know the feeling…” he admits, walking closer to you.

Jungkook makes his way to the table before pulling out a chair and sitting down next to you.

“Listen—”

“Jungkook—”

You both begin talking at the same time. Jungkook ushers you to go first.

“I…I’m still fake dating Tae.”

“I know.”

“But…” your eyes gloss over, getting choked up trying to continue. “But I am so sorry.” A few tears spill from your eyes.

“I know y/n.” he reaches his hand to squeeze your knee. You feel so much better with him touching you. “I’m sorry too…I was really harsh. And it pains me every day that I haven’t talked to you.”

“Trust me, I get it. I wanted to like, kill myself not talking to you.” Your eyes slam shut as more tears threaten to fall.

Jungkook’s face morphs into a deep frown, “You know I don’t like when you say that…”

“Right…sorry.”

“Honestly y/n…I don’t know when I will be okay with this, but I’ll respect your wishes for the month.”

“Jungkook…” Your hand flies down to his and you squeeze it but he’s quick to let it go.

“I’m mad at you right now.” He admits softly, his breathing is slow and steady. “So just give me some space.”

~~~

Like magical clockwork you hear light knocking on your front door. You scramble to find your phone and your purse to make it to the door in good time but you hear it being creaked open and the voices of two men. Shit, Jungkook got to the door first.

Ever since you started fake dating Taehyung it seems Jungkook has been keeping a distance from him. You aren’t sure why but they’ve been weird. So you want to avoid as much awkwardness as possible. You grab all your belongings and rush to the living room and find the two men sitting on the sofa quietly chatting.

“Can you keep your voice down dude?” Taehyung peers over his shoulder, looking in the direction of your room. “Would if she hears?”

“I wish she would fucking hear,” Jungkook grits through his teeth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head, “Why don’t you just tell her?” he leans back on the back of the sofa, “She might be understanding, hm? Do it before it’s too late or I swear to god Taehyung I will tell her myself.”

“You swore you wouldn’t say shit. Just like how I swore not to say any—”

“Okay.”

“I’ll tell her dude. Just give me some time to—"

Jungkook’s eyes shoot up when he hears the light creak of your bedroom door open, he waits expectantly for you to walk through.

“Hey guys,” you announce your presence and both boys look up at you and smile. Taehyung with his boxy grin and Jungkook with a tightlipped smile.

“Hey y/n, you look nice,” Taehyung stands to his feet and walks towards you, “I mean, you always do.” He stops just in front of you and hands you a bag.

“What’s this?” you take the bag and jingle it around a bit.

“just something for our date.” He grins. “You can open it later.” Taehyung glances over at Jungkook, “Anyway, let’s get going. See you later man.” He nods toward the boy and faces you again. “shall we?”

You smile up at Taehyung and take his hand in your yours and lead him towards the front door but before you leave you and Jungkook make eye contact and he frowns.

Taehyung being the gentlemen he is runs to the car before you and opens your car door.

“Feet inside?” he asks and you’re nodding yes when he shuts the door for you. He runs around the other side and enters the car himself. Taehyung settles on an old 50’s station with the volume just right. He’s humming along with a dopey grin on his face, feeling satisfied with his choice.

“Where are we going?” you ask.

“Let’s get some dinner first then we can do our date activity I have planned” he chuckles to himself, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel.

You drive around in comfortable silence when you decide to take your phone out and shoot Jungkook a text.

y/n 6:14pm

You okay?

Jungkook 6:16pm

Don’t worry about me while you’re out with another guy

“Everything okay?” Taehyung asks, pulling you out of your thoughts.

“hm? Oh, yeah. Just thinking.” You reply quite honestly.

“About Jungkook?”

“What?? Why would you assume that?” your voice rises in panic.

“Well, we were all just together and I know you and him are fighting…I thought it was a safe assumption.” He laughs awkwardly.

“Oh…right. Actually, me and Jungkook sorted things out kind of but we’re still barely talking.”

“oh? Really?” Taehyungs grip on the steering wheel tightens.

“He said he will steer clear for the month, ya know, in public.”

“He—he agreed?” Taehyung coughs a few times, his head pushed back in disbelief.

“Something like that.” You don’t really know what to say, this is an awkward thing to be talking about and you wish the subject would change.

“Anyway,” you begin, “How did things with Anna escalate?”

Taehyung freezes. The color draining from his face as his knuckles turn white from gripping the steering wheel so hard.

“Um.” Taehyung feels sweat beading on his forehead as he tries to come up with an answer.

“You know how it is,” his mouth feels dry as he tries to speak, “She just won’t leave me alone and I want to show her that I am taken so she will get the hint.” Then a sly smile spreads across his face “and I think it’s working.”

“You think so?” you raise a brow in question.

“Well, you are such a convincing girlfriend after all.” His right arm extends towards your knee and he squeezes it. “Thanks again y/n…” he almost sounds…guilty. But you push that thought away and smile at him. Your sweet smile making him feel even guiltier.

~~~

“Dinner was sooo good.” You raise your arms above your head, stretching your body, a satisfied moan leaving you as you lower your arms again.

“I knew you’d like it! Best pizza in town!” Taehyung sets his credit card in the bill holder on the table. “Ready for what I have planned next?”

“hmmm, yes.”

The two of you wait for the server to return so you can finish paying so you can leave. Once all finished up at the restaurant the two of you head back to the parking lot and get inside his car to go to your next destination.

“Your apartment?” you ask as you notice his building coming into view.

“Yes. But you’ll see.” He turns his head quickly to flash you his pearly whites.

The two of you walk to his front door as he unlocks the door. Taehyung has a two bedroom apartment but lives alone. You’ve only ever seen his kitchen and living room and you’re wondering if you’re lucky enough you’ll see his bedroom. Hehe but that’s wishful thinking.

“You have that bag?” Taehyung asks,

“yup,” you say lifting it up and showing him the precious goods.

“Great go put it on!”

You tilt your head in confusion but you see how excited he is so you walk to his bathroom and shut the door behind you. Would if it was lingerie? You giggle to yourself at the ridiculous idea.

You open the bag to find some type of clothing. First, you pull out a large white t shirt and next was an…apron? The apron was a light pink color with a pocket in the front with your initials embroidered on it. You gasp once you realize it, your heart beating out of your chest as you melt into a puddle on the floor. He got your initials on an apron? You hurry to change into the white t shirt and put the apron on.

“Cute.” You murmur to yourself in the mirror before you’re out the door and back into the living room.

“How do you like it?” Taehyung asks from behind you, surprising you with a glass of water. You take the water gratefully and gulp down a few sips before answering.

“love it, but what’s it for?”

Taehyung beams, grabbing your arm and leading you into one of the bedrooms. He stands in front of the door and bounces on his heels.

“Ready?”

“Yes?”

“Never showed anyone this room but I feel like you’re special” Taehyung giggles, “Plus I thought it was a cute date idea.”

“hmm, okay. I’m ready.” You are such a fool for this boy, his cuteness doing a million things to you.

Taehyung begins to slowly open the door revealing a room with tarp covering the ground and easels taking up space. There are buckets of paint, a variety of colors spread all across. And many, many art pieces.

“You…” you begin to say in awe, “You’re an artist, Tae?”

“Aspiring.” He chuckles a bit bitterly. “How would you like to paint together?”

“You feel comfortable enough with me?” you ask, surprised.

“Something about you….” He starts but leaves it hanging. “Let’s paint!”

You dip your paint brush in purple paint and stroke it across the canvas, the color joining a mess of other colors. That’s art, right? Fuck, you are not good at this. You sneak a glance over at Taehyung to see him painting a scenic art piece. There’s mountains and flowers but somehow in an abstract kind of way, you tilt your head to the side trying to eye it more carefully.

“Hey, no peeking!” his bottom lip jutting out in the cutest way. You just want to kiss it.

You stand from your stool and walk over to his, your eyes never leaving his art work.

“I’m trying to figure out what I am looking at. Don’t get me wrong, its super cool. But like there’s this beautiful tree with flowers but also shapes??”

“Its abstract, y/n.” his tone is light and makes you flutter. “I like it this way.” He says softly.

“me too.” You look at him, his eyes meeting yours. His gaze shifts to your lips.

“heh really?” Taehyung’s cheeks turn a wonderful shade of pink, like the flowers on his canvas.

“You really are amazing, aren’t you?”

“Me? Let’s see what you got!” He stands from his stool and begins walking over to your art work.

“No!” you stand in his way, your arms flailing above your head. “It’s not good!” You laugh and push his chest back with your hands, Taehyung wobbles in place as he laughs at your dramatics.

“It can’t be that bad.”

You finally let him walk past you, he stands in front of your canvas with his finger on his chin,

“Okay, it can be that bad.”

Taehyung bubbles with laughter and you hit his shoulder but end up laughing with him.

“I told you.” You pout. Taehyung stares at you, his eyes once again shifting towards your lips and you aren’t going to play dumb, of course you’ve noticed.

“What?” you jut your lip out even more, walking just a bit closer to him.

“Nothing, you’re just cute.” Taehyung admits. His long fingers brush against your cheek as he pushes a piece of hair behind your ear.

“Like, really cute.”

Well, holy shit. Your heart and also your vagina cannot take this.

“How cute?” you breathe out.

“So cute I could kiss you.” Taehyung walks closer, his foot bumping into yours. “But…” He looks down at the ground, guilt beginning to surface, “y/n I have to tell—”

You tilt your head up and meet his lips for a peck on the lips taking him by surprise. Taehyung knits his brows together and is about to say something when he sighs out instead. One of his hands travel to cup the back of your head to bring you closer to him and he kisses you again. He deepens the kiss. Its slow and there’s no tongue, just lips moving tenderly against one another. You feel so light and airy like you could just float away until he abruptly pulls back.

“What’s wrong?” you panic, worry filling your eyes.

“We—we shouldn’t do that.” He finally says after a moment. Why? It was just some kissing between two people who possibly like each other? It’s not like you were delusional right? It’s not like you were making this up in your head. The flowers, the apron, the dinners, the car door, the ‘missing my girl’, the way he treats you can’t just be because of some fake dating bullshit. You know he is known for his kindness but to this extent?

“Why?” you finally say.

“Because,” Taehyung drags a hand across his face, “No one’s around. Let’s just take our pictures—”

BBrrrrrr bbbrrrr brrrrrr bbbrrrr

Taehyung’s phone is sitting on the table next to where the two of you are, it’s going off and you naturally glance over.

Incoming call: Anna

Taehyung races to turn it off, his face flushing and his hands have become sweaty.

“She…she just doesn’t give up.” He chuckles awkwardly, his phone in his grasp as you hear the buzzing of incoming messages.

“Is that her too?” you ask, feeling sorry for him.

“Uh, yeah…probably.” He says, his eyes looking all over the room but never on you.

“Well, let’s see what she’s saying.” You say nonchalantly, reaching for his phone but he yanks his hand back and barks a loud ‘No’. Startled, you step away from him.

“Sorry, I just…” he rubs his neck.

“No no, it’s okay, I shouldn’t have reached for your phone like that…” Something is off, You can feel it. But you want to push that feeling away.

“Let’s just take the pictures, I need to get home soon.”

“Yeah, okay.” Taehyung forces a smile.

~~~

Something is off with Taehyung. The way he wanted to kiss you but then pulled back. The way he got super weird after Anna called. Has she traumatized him that much? Is she like a real, legit stalker who is totally and completely obsessed with him? You feel bad for the guy, he seems like he probably has trust issues or something. Maybe he thinks you might turn out to be like her and he’s scared of that so that’s why he is pushing you away.

That’s gotta be it. You roll around in your bed about to finally get some sleep when you hear music blaring through the wall. Jungkook. You roll your eyes at his choice of timing. The clock reads after midnight, why the hell is he blasting music at this time?

You rise from your bed and storm into his room. Jungkook looks surprised to see you as he is in the middle of doing pushups—shirtless.

His muscles ripple with every movement and it has you practically drooling.

“Uh, can I help you?” Jungkook doesn’t look very annoyed, mostly amused.

“It’s late, Jungkook. Can you turn this shit down?”

“Can’t. Didn’t get a work out in today…so here I am.” He rises to his feet, shrugging.

The music is some horrible rock back that you can’t stand and Jungkook knows this. He fucking knows this. Wow, he really is mad at you still.

“Listen dude,” you put your hands on your hips, “I’ve had a weird day and I just want to relax.”

“Oh baby, I can think of a way for you to relax.” He winks. You want to puke, why is Jungkook so gross.

“Ew.”

“So…how was it?” Jungkook’s eyes fall to the ground.

“What?”

“How—how was your date with Taehyung?” he doesn’t raise his eyes, they stay glued to the floor.

“It was…” you get flashbacks to the awkward date, “fine.” You finish, not wanting to give Jungkook any more reason to dislike you and Taehyung together. “Yeah, it was fine” you force a smile.

“You know I know better than anyone when you’re lying.” He says, finally looking at you again.

Fuck. He’s right, if anyone knows you and your lying habits its Jungkook. He can read you like his favorite book. And it’s like, a picture book. Super fucking easy.

“It was fine Jungkook.” You lie again.

“What happened?” his tone eases into something softer, something more comforting and it almost makes you break and tell him the truth. Almost. But not quite.

“Nothing happened. Keep the music down, I’m going to bed.”

Jungkook watches as you spin on your heels to exit his bedroom, his eyes caving and watching your ass the entire time. He has a love-hate relationship with your house shorts, they’re sexy as hell and that’s the problem.

Jungkook turns the volume down on his speakers and sits on the edge of his bed. His head falls into his hands as he thinks about your date with Taehyung. Something must have happened. He knows it. He feels it. But he can’t force you to tell him.

He lays back on his bed and his face hardens as he thinks more about your fake relationship. He wants to beat Taehyungs ass. He wish he could tell you but it’s not his place and he just wishes Taehyung will do the right thing.

While staying loyal to Taehyung is he betraying you?

~~~~

Best friend: “A person you value over other friends in your life, someone you have fun with, someone you trust and someone in whom you confide.” That’s how the dictionary would describe the word but in Jungkook’s dictionary it would just be your cute face. Everything about you is cute to him, the way you walk, talk, dress, sneeze, just everything.

Even when you look gross as hell in the mornings dealing with a nasty hangover he still viewed you as…cute.

When Jungkook first noticed you was in his Literature class that took place on Tuesdays and Thursdays. He knew you always sat in the back and took your notes without really paying him any attention. And not to sound like a cocky bastard but…why not? He obviously thought you were pretty and there was something about you…

The second time he noticed you was at some frat party where he caught you staring at him and he thought he finally might have a chance at talking to you. Or get in your pants at least. He could one and done this situation and move on with his life but much to his surprise you weren’t interested in getting dicked down by him. No, you were interested in just…hanging out. Which he wasn’t use to. Most girls just wanted to say the got with the Jeon Jungkook and don’t pay him any mind for something serious. Because apparently he isn’t the type of guy you could be “serious” with. It’s not like he doesn’t hear the rumors. He hated this honestly…but he guesses it’s his own fault.

He even playfully offered to take you upstairs that night but you refused him. Much too shy. So he got a better idea: the 24 hour diner down the road.

You ended up talking until 9 am the next morning, laughing and snorting, telling tons of stories that cracked the two of you up. He even shared deeply personal information with you that shocked the both of you. But it just felt right—talking to you. He felt like he could open his heart to you, like he was making a real friend.

Jungkook doesn’t have much of a dating history…he mostly just sleeps around and is okay with that—because he has to be. Like what was said earlier, Jungkook isn’t a guy you get “serious” with and all the girls knew that. It just started with one girl spreading the fact he isn’t the type to ‘do’ relationships. He thought this would cause girls to try harder and try to change him or whatever. But none cared enough. He guesses…he just isn’t worth it. Does Jungkook yearn for something more? You wouldn’t know because he has never voiced it. Even though he isn’t lucky in love, he did get super lucky in a friend. That’s you. He cherishes your friendship more than anything in the world and wouldn’t do anything to risk ruining it.

3 years ago

“What about you?” you smile at him with all your teeth, “What are your parents like?”

You didn’t know at the time but this question made Jungkook feel the very dread he avoids feeling.

He looked into your wide eyes and couldn’t help the sigh that escapes his lips.

“Dad cheated the whole time and moms not around anymore.” Jungkook picks at his cuticles.

You felt a pang of guilt for bringing it up…but you were too curious to stop.

“Where did she go?” you can’t seem to stop yourself from asking.

Jungkook pauses his bad habit, his fingers coming to a halt.

“Can we change the subject?” he finally says, a small smile spreading across his lips, “It’s like, uh…a touchy subject. Ya know?” he almost looks as if he feels bad that he can’t confide in you.

“I promise I will tell you about it someday.” He swears with his pinky joining your pinky. You felt content with his answer but somehow you knew he probably never would.

Jungkook lays in his bed with his head dangling off the edge. Its 10 at night and you’re still not back. You had another date with Taehyung today—he knows because he follows the both of you on Instagram and you posted a photo of Taehyung in front of a mural that’s located just downtown. He grabs his phone to check your location and unfortunately you are still in the same spot—Taehyungs apartment. He hates this. Why does he hate this? Because Taehyung doesn’t deserve you and what he’s doing is not right. But he can’t tell you that because none of this is his business. Instead all he does is piss you off and he hates himself for it.

He truly thinks the world of you, he truly wants nothing but the best for you and he truly loves you. You’re his best friend.

Jungkook starts to doze off when he hears the front door being unlocked. It’s you.

Quickly, Jungkook jumps to his feet and scurries to his bedroom door and places his ear over the wood. He hears you talking…then another voice. You’re not alone. Its muffled but he makes out what you’re saying.

“It was amazing T,” oh, you’re with Trina. “He got me flowers, took pictures of me and got all my best angles.” He hears you giggling then another voice joins you in your laughter.

“I told you! This was a great idea!” Trina says, Jungkook rolls his eyes.

“He was such a gentlemen the whole time and it…I know it’s not real but I don’t know man…it feels real sometimes.”

“Girl, he would be stupid not to have a thing for you.” For once, Trina and Jungkook agree on something.

“I would actually kill myself if he did!” you giggle.

Jungkook goes rigid at your words, his jaw clenching so hard it ticks. He hates when you say shit like that, it creates a suffocating bubble around him that’s too hard to pop.

Jungkook decides he’s eavesdropped enough and settles back on his bed. He lays back, his arms folded behind him. He feels beyond frustrated and doesn’t know what could cure this. Well, maybe sex? Maybe he should call up some girl…maybe that could make him feel better. But somehow that didn’t appeal to him so much in this moment when his brain is occupied of you. So he settles for himself. It’s been a while since Jungkook gave himself a handy but he’s not opposed of going for it.

The lights are off and Jungkook is deciding if he wants to watch porn or settle for his imagination. A girl he use to hook up with enters his mind and he decides to roll with it, he dips his hands underneath his boxers to feel up his hardening length. He reaches for his nightstand to squirt some lube in his hand, his cock is only half hard by the time he’s gently stroking himself. The skin on his cock is smooth with few veins decorating the length, he’s already leaking precum while his imagination starts up.

He thinks of this girl and her lips, how she looks with them wrapped around his greedy cock and he becomes even harder. Fuck, he can’t remember her name—a piece of shit move but he doesn’t care at this point. He’s stroking himself faster, gathering the precum at his tip and smearing it around. A light moan escapes his lips as he tugs on the head of his cock harder. His other hand drags his boxers down his legs as his continues to stroke himself and then reaches to fondle his balls. He groans at the sensation.

He then thinks of the girls ass in the air, her wiggling it around and begging him to fuck her. Her ass is round and plump, it jiggles slightly as she squirms below him. His hand moves quickly as his thoughts get dirtier. He doesn’t see her face just her ass and her voice sounds a lot like…yours. Fuck, he can’t be thinking of you right now. He’s pissed at you, his thoughts growing angry yet somehow his hand doesn’t stop. He’s so close it fucking hurts.

“Fuck…y/n..” he whimpers into his shoulder. He now sees your face, underneath him, your hair all splayed out. Your lips are swollen and you whine for him, begging for him to fuck into you faster. Jungkook squeezes his eyes shut at that image, his hand stroking him impossibly fast as he is beginning to lose all composure. He shouldn’t be thinking of you right now, or ever—not like this. But he hears you beg for him, he imagines flipping you over, demanding you to raise your ass in the air. You beg to be punished, you beg for him to spank you, and he does. He pulls his hand back and slaps your needy ass and you whimper. He does it again and again.

He sees himself insert his cock into your pussy and he’s thrusting in and out like his life depends on it. Jungkook’s hand squeezes desperately around his throbbing member, he cries out quietly as he fucks you in his mind.

He imagines you reaching your own high, your moans and screams ringing in his ears and that’s what sets him over the edge. His cum spurts out of his swollen cock, spraying all over his hand as he begins to come to a stop on himself.

“fuck fuck fuck fuck” Jungkook is out of breath, his fantasy too much for him to handle. “What the fuck did I just….”

He sits in complete silence as his breathing comes down. Did he just? He is not supposed to do that.

#bts #bts smut #bts fluff #bts angst #jeon Jungkook #Jungkook x reader #jungkook smut #jungkook angst #jungkook fluff #kim taehyung #taehyung smut #taehyung fluff #taehyung angst

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adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy · 4 years ago

Text

you’re someone i just want around: I

“And I can't wait another minute

I can't take the look she's giving

Your body rocking, keep me up all night

One in a million, my lucky strike.”

— Lucky Strike, Maroon 5

A/N: this idea started as just random concept drabbling between leyla @sunflowervolvimp3 and i and we never really thought it would amount to anything tbh!! but as we started putting more and more into the plot and characters, we made the spontaneous decision to make it a full on, multi-chaptered collab fic! we have so many ideas planned and so much to elaborate on and we’re just so mfing excited to share it with you guys :’) any and all feedback is greatly appreciated 💌 we hope you enjoy the first part and that you fall in love with this stupid emotionally unavailable moron the way we did! happy reading!!

andrea’s askbox : leyla’s askbox : ysijwa masterlist : andrea’s masterlist : leyla’s masterlist :

word count: 17.2k

content/warnings: vampire!harry being a lowkey asshole while downing straight tequila like a psycho, getting to know The Crew, Mitch being the iconic legend he is, mentions of smut, and Harry working his immortal charm on an unsuspecting human girl with a peculiar scent and intriguing personality

///

Harry hates clubs.

In his two hundred years of life, through many trials and tribulations, through tricky scenarios and annoying encounters, through thousands of unappealing circumstances and patience-testing events, he doesn’t think anything quite compares to the crowded, nerve-wracking experience that is a Los Angeles club on a Friday night during peak hours.

According to his wise, humble opinion, it’s absolutely fucking petrifiying. He’d rather swallow a stake than have to spend hours in a dimly lit room with synthetic smoke choking his lungs, half-conscious humans stumbling around into him, and the stench of sweaty bodies mixed with liquor fumes, alongside the faint yet unmistakable waft of vomit.

Yeah, Harry would definitely rather eat a red oak spear than have to shoulder that.

Despite his intense hatred for this Californian city during its after-hours, he can’t deny that he fits right into the scene perfectly. Decades of grooming and practice have made him a prime candidate for the fast-paced characteristics that come with the party nightlife.

Fitting into these aspects aren’t something he had learned willingly; he didn’t really have a choice on the matter, considering his entire existence depends on mortals immature tendencies to get properly shit-faced and make stupid decisions in tightly-packed glorified bars. Harry never understood that— how a fog machine, strobe lights, and an undergrad amateur DJ could ever seem more appealing than the quiet, stable ambiance of a semi-formal bar. How deranged do people have to be to actually enjoy strangers spilling alcohol on them while attempting to shag someone else two feet away on the dance floor?

Whenever he dwells too much on that thought, he gets a spiking migraine. After this long, Harry’s just come to terms with the fact that humans are regressing as a species. His conclusion is a bit cynical, perhaps, but hardly difficult to accept. One look at a news outlet provides enough proof to launch an Ivy League research project on the matter.

He really shouldn’t be complaining, however, because the combination of overflowed close quarters and dampened inhibitions makes it the ideal hunting ground. Picking up a living blood bag at a club is basically as easy as walking through a vineyard and plucking grapes right off the stems. It’s practical, it’s fool-proof, and if he plays his cards right, he gets to feed and gets his more intimate needs tailored (a combo that he and his friends refer to as Laid and Drained).

So regardless of his distaste towards clubs and their eager inhabitants, Harry had learned to mold his persona to fit the bill, making himself as approachable and desirable as possible. His life literally hangs in the balance; he’d put up with throngs of drunk sorority girls and their affinity for shitty perfumed drinks if it means avoiding desiccation.

It’s not like it’s hard. All Harry has to do is make himself look more appealing than the other hundred men milling around the establishment, which— if he’s being brutally honest— isn’t that challenging. The moral, physical, and ethical standards of men have dropped frighteningly low since his time. Most of the ones that creep around clubs are overconfident, overzealous, boundary-lacking douchebags who think they’re entitled to a woman’s attention, and therefore make complete, utter fools of themselves in the process of trying to court one into their pants. Buying a girl one Sex On The Beach and dry-humping to Daft Punk isn’t the way to convince her to come home with you.

Harry has developed his own guidelines and tactics for securing a nightly bedroom companion, and his ideas have been working wonders for him for decades now.

The first and foremost rule is to clean up nicely. Personal appearance is everything. Humans are visual creatures; they build first impressions solely based on outward attraction. That trait is enhanced the higher their blood alcohol content rises. The drunker someone gets, the shallower they become, and it’s Harry’s job to work that to his advantage. And at the risk of sounding shallow himself, he thinks he does pretty alright in that department.

Especially tonight, present in all the elements of his physique. He’s clad in a pair of high-waisted tan trousers that have been ironed to a crisp, his fitted graphic tee tucked neatly along his waistband beneath his black leather belt. His t-shirt is probably his favorite part of the entire look. It’s a baby blue sturdy cotton number with pastel yellow detailing along the cuffs and collar and a giant cartoon puppy in a striped bowtie taking up its center, smiling cheekily at the onlooker. Arranged around the doodle in faded Times New Roman bubble letters are the words WE’RE IN THE SHIT.

Harry loves the irony of the article— the innocence of the drawing juxtaposed by the crude message. The piece is a conversation-starter— people almost always comment on it— and that’s exactly what he needs. Something to draw attention to himself and shadow all the other men. Something that shows he has a personality; that he has taste and a good sense of humor and isn’t just another walking genital. Plus, what person doesn’t enjoy a funny little contradiction, especially when it’s this cute?

On top of his graphic top, he’s wearing a tartan cropped blazer (open, of course) with a creme background and royal blue lines. The hem ends at the bottom of his ribs, exactly where his pants begin, and the jacket's hand-sewn buttons and strap detailings show that it's an expensive garment. It shows that he puts money and effort into how he looks, which is something anyone would appreciate when scoping for a possible hookup.

Harry’s shoes are the most casual factor of his fit. They’re a pair of light yellow Vans that match the collar of his tee. They’re plain, but he keeps them clean and they tie the whole look together without a hitch.

Accessories are everything, as well. Aside from the pearls arranged around his prominent collarbones, the gold-dipped cross hanging from a delicate chain around his neck, and the matching dangling cross earring on his right earlobe (again, he adores irony), he’s sporting a plethora of chunky rings on his hands, each unique and effortlessly complimenting his appearance. On his left hand, his index finger dots a ruby jewel embedded into a thick rusted band, another large metal one with dancing bears on his middle, and two clunky golden letters on his last two digits— his initials, HS. On his opposite hand, he has a medium-width plated ring on his middle finger with peace engraved along its rounded edge, an elegant lionhead number with an amethyst stone snug in its mouth, and along his pinky is a decently-sized opal set into a delicate polished frame.

His two last rings are the most important of all. The lionhead is his daylight ring, which he hasn’t taken off since he transitioned. It keeps him from bursting into flames everytime the sun hits his skin. The opal was his mother’s, and it was her favorite.

Harry’s attire is something he’s immensely proud of, even though a good amount of people deem him eccentric in the eyes of modern masculinity. He couldn’t give less of a shit. With his lightly tanned skin, alluring cologne and lacquered nails, his shirt stretching across the defined muscles of his chest and stomach, his broad shoulders and tapering waist, his thick thighs, sharp jaw, jade eyes, loosely tousled chestnut curls, and the vast array of dark ink littering his arms...

He looks good and he knows it. And all the people whose gazes glue to him as he passes by know it, too. Especially a random group of young women in line, who ogle at him shamelessly as he casually strolls past. He treats them to a sly wink, an irresistible dimpled smile, and a soft, cheeky greeting of, “Ladies.”

He gets off on the way they swoon at his refined English accent, giggling and waving.

The only other component Harry has for succeeding in the club environment is simple, but it’s important: Don’t seduce, romanticize.

Anyone— even inebriated idiots— can try and seduce a woman. And if she’s had enough tequila shots to cloud her thoughts, they just might succeed. But only a real man can romanticize a girl, and it yields way better results.

Females are an emotional sect (Harry says that with zero misogyny; it’s just a scientific fact and he actually praises it), which means that if you entertain their interests and fluff their egos, they are bound to fall right into the palm of your hand. It changes the game completely because then they don’t feel that they have to pleasure you, they want to. They pursue the guy who flirts without being too vulgar, who appreciates and acknowledges their efforts, and who can go head-to-head with their wit by carrying unforced banter. They chase after him because he’s showing genuine kindness rather than just sexual interests and if he’s that attentive on the getting-to-know-you front, one can only imagine how skilled he could be in other bases. Chatting up a girl the right way, with patience and courtesy, builds credibility and prowess. And as a thank you, they’re usually more than willing to pay special attention to your needs, as well.

Thus, romanticizing is always the expert move. So, yes, Harry detests clubs and the disaster that is adult recreation. But he’s fucking amazing at playing it to his favor. He’s great at calculating everything down to the smallest detail and he’s going to piggy-back on those skills for the rest of eternity. He’s so good at what he hates that his closest friends have anointed him the title of Walking Paradox. He’s more than happy to keep it.

All of these thoughts are circulating around his skull, hyping him up for the game ahead as Harry and his friend group walk up to the bouncer at the entrance of the club they had chosen for the night, faint stars twinkling in the dark sky as the sounds and lights of the city fall away into background static.

They cruise by the long line of people, hearing sounds of disagreement and grumbling coming from the other patrons waiting to get in. Harry casually tucks his large hands into the pockets of his light brown slacks as he pulls up in front of the burly bald man, who is wearing a black shirt with the club’s name printed in neon letters. The security guard is at least five inches taller than him, overswollen biceps and pectoral muscles rippling under the flimsy material of his work outfit as he crosses his arms over his barreled chest, cocking a single thick eyebrow at the seemingly young vampire.

Harry delivers a good-natured smile up at the employee, despite the man’s obvious begrudging disbelief at what he is about to try and do. His friends chat quietly behind him, uninterested in what is happening; after years of being acquainted, they know that Harry is going to get exactly what he wants. He always does.

He’s the best of them, that much is obvious. Not only when it comes to his experience with persuading sexual partners and getting himself a decent dinner, but he’s the best at convincing just about anyone to do anything, neutral of gender. He’s the second oldest of the crew, yet he seems to have the most knowledge and practice under his belt; his easygoing charisma, undeniable good looks, and dazzling smile could sway even the most stubborn of souls. Frankly, he’s so successful in getting his way that no one cares to try and argue for the leader position. Not when they can just sit back and let Harry do all the work.

“Good evening.” Harry’s deep voice chimes giddily in the direction of the bouncer, his accent particularly heavy for no real reason. “How you doing tonight, mate?”

The guard— whose name tag reads Brock and Harry has to actively stop himself from snorting at how fitting the name is for such a brick of a human— looks down at him with a stony expression, voice flat. “I’m good.”

“Well, that’s great to hear!” The curly-haired boy’s simper widens, dimples popping into place as he skates into his next question with dramatic friendliness. “Haven’t had anyone cause you any trouble tonight, have you?”

Brock blinks once, attitude remaining coldly indifferent even in the face of Harry’s cheeriness. His words, however, are snipped and pointed. “Not yet.”

“I’m guessing you’d like to keep it that way.” The young man comments sympathetically, nodding his head along with the worker. “Totally understandable.”

“Good.” The employee remarks in the same detached tone, shifting on his feet, obviously growing uncomfortable and irritated with the conversation. “So I’m guessing that means you know you have to get in line.”

Harry glances over his shoulder at the lengthy expanse of people gathered along the side of the building, a light wind filtering through his freshly-shampooed ringlets as he studies the way the bright sign on top of the club casts alternating rainbow colors across the crowd.

He makes a disapproving sound by sucking at his teeth, lulling his sight back onto the guard. “I don’t know, man. At this rate, I feel like by the time we get to the front of the line, it’ll be last call.”

“Maybe.” Brock shrugs offhandedly. “It is what it is, right? Fair’s fair.”

“Yeah, you’re right.” Harry returns his gesture, but his posture shows no intention of moving, the corners of his rose lip set in a knowing smirk. “But since you’ve been having a good night, do you think you could find it in yourself to just let us through? We’d greatly appreciate it.”

The bouncer’s face hardens, any shred of professional amiability washing out of his defined features. “I don’t think so.”

The vampire’s shoulders sag in exaggerated disappointment. “Are you sure? It’s just five of us. Don’t think we’ll do much damage. Right, guys?”

Harry glimpses over his back to his friends, who let their conversation falter for a moment to throw out a chorus of half-assed agreements, trying to keep themselves from snickering.

“We promise we won’t cause any problems.” Xander speaks up, jutting his chin encouragingly at the man as his lips twitch slyly. He lifts one of his hands, the smallest finger sticking out stiffly and wiggling around. “Pinky swear.”

The rest of the group bursts into a round of light laughter, causing Harry to release a few airy giggles of his own.

Xander looks over at Niall, raising his eyebrows and quipping in an innocent manner. “Right, Ni? No funny business tonight. That means no climbing onto the bar again and stripping down to your socks.”

“That happened one time!” Niall exclaims incredulously, socking the taller boy in the shoulder as the others laugh harder than before, his blue eyes narrowed and face pinched. “Once! And it was only ‘cause Harry challenged me to a tequila shot contest.”

The Irish vampire’s accented voice drops darkly as he reminisces. “Fuckin’ hate tequila. Makes me act like a moron.”

“As if you’re not one already.” Mitch pipes up in his usual soft dialect, chuckling as he ducks away from Niall’s vengeful fist.

Harry cranes back to face Brock, thumb playing with his daylight ring as his hands stay relaxed inside his trousers. He shrugs one shoulder easily for emphasis. “See? You can let us through. We pinky swore.”

The entire charade seems to have only infuriated the security guard more than before, his brows now fully furrowed and a deep, unamused frown etched across his previously pursed lips. His voice is on edge with barely controlled anger. “I’m not putting up with any shit. If you want in, go to the back of the line. If not, leave.”

Harry sighs grandly in defeat, head shaking slightly. “Guess I’ll just have to go the other route, then.”

The creature takes a step forward towards the employee, close enough that their chests almost press together. The bulky man stands his ground, though there’s a flicker of surprise in his eyes at seeing the smaller boy make such a bold move.

“What the f—?”

Harry locks gazes with Brock, pupils dilating to twice their size, the usual emerald shade of his irises flickering a haunting red and looking sinister in the buttery light of the street lamps. Horror breaks across the worker’s face, the ability to form coherent sentences disappearing from his demeanor. Harry’s heightened senses can hear the way his heartbeat spikes, blood instinctively rushing into his chest as a response to the adrenaline materializing in his veins. The activation of human’s fight-or-flight modes is always so oddly pleasurable. Just feeling how they react so drastically makes Harry’s fangs tingle with longing. Fear is a good condiment, he’s learned; it gives blood’s usual metallic flavor a certain twang.

But at the moment, a beverage from this specific tap isn’t the one Harry has in mind. He has his interests set on something much tangier and full-bodied; maybe Casamigos golden tequila, or Don Julio's Blanco. Preferably mixed with a young office secretary or a Bath and Body Works employee instead of lemon and salt.

All in all, Brock is just collateral for a much bigger prize, which lies behind the roped off area he holds dominion over. It’s Harry’s job to break that dam.

Before the large man can fully react, the vampire begins working his compulsion strategy, tone coming out level and soothing, thick with persuasion and teetering along a sleepy undercurrent. “You’re going to let us through, and you’re going to forget we ever met.”

The guard’s pupils enlarge to match Harry’s, the look of utter terror on his face melting right off. His features go slack as the monster’s magical influence works its way through his brain, coating every neuron and bending him to the deliverer’s will. The man reaches over and removes the velvet rope blocking the group’s path, stepping off to the side obediently with an empty expression present across his appearance.

The leader of the group smiles just as brightly as he had the second he’d walked up to the door. He passes by the worker, giving him a hard pat on the shoulder and feeling the muscular man strain under his supernatural strength. “Thank you very much. You have a nice night, Brock.”

Harry’s friends follow behind him, echoing his parting message and sharing a collective chortle.

The second the group dives past the frame of the club entrance, the whole ambiance of the atmosphere changes. Harry walks across the top ledge of the establishment, coming to a halt at the railing that overlooks the main level of the club, his inhumanly sharp eyes bouncing around all the corners of the building to construct some type of familiar layout in his head. Amidst the blinking lights, thick artificial smoke, and swaying bodies, his keen instincts sketch a mental image for tonight’s hunting ground.

The bar is at the far left corner of the club, squared off and taking up a large chunk of the colorful tiled dance floor. The music station extends across the entire wall at the opposite end of the tavern, stocked with massive speakers and a professional turntable. Harry’s brows jump in mild surprise— it’s not every day that a club puts so much effort into their mixer.

The animated dancing area is packed with people, the crowd all jumping and grinding to the beat of the bass, moving as one large mass while the rotating strobe lights hang from the cavernous ceiling, bathing their moving silhouettes in neon reds, drunken blues, groggy purples, and electric yellows. The dim surroundings and heavy fog make all the hues more intense, giving the endless party that timeless quality which people tend to enjoy about nightlife. It’s the night to remember effect that movies and shows always hyperbolize; he thinks this way because he’s well aware that not even a third of these people are sober enough to know what the fuck they’re doing, let alone recall it the following day. It’s comically ironic, really.

But Harry profits off that liquor amnesia, so he brushes away his sardonic skepticism for the time being, settling his lean forearms onto the metal railing that lines the second story of the venue, which is meant to keep shit-faced customers from creating a messy lawsuit. He carefully absorbs the grandeur of it all, leaning his weight forward with a detached sigh, already flickering through the mental menu of his favorite drinks that he has expertly memorized.

He’s in the process of choosing between a Manhattan— it isn’t a very complicated drink, which is exactly what he’s looking for; something simple and strong— or just straight tequila in a glass when he suddenly feels a familiar presence arrange itself beside him, bumping his shoulder playfully with their own.

Harry snaps out of his recipe retrieval, eyes casting to the side to land on his best friend of almost a century. He cocks an eyebrow expectantly, waiting for the thin, bearded man to make the first move towards conversation.

“You’re a real dick, y’know that?”

The green-eyed vampire sputters into spontaneous laughter, the edges of his eyes crinkling as the small pits in his cheeks jolt awake. His tone is humorous and full of fake insult for the hell of the joke. “Wow, alright. So I get us into the club that you chose and that makes me a prick? Good to know. You can handle the muscle next time, then, if you’re gonna talk shit.”

Mitch cracks a gentle jesting grin, which is very on brand for him. He doesn’t seem like much, with his skinny, lanky frame, delicate features, shoulder-length hair, and somewhat scraggly stubble. He’s quiet, reserved, and hardly engages with anyone outside of their immediate group. He’s always been that way for as long as Harry could remember.

When they had met back in 1924 at a speakeasy in New York, Mitch had given off a mysterious vibe that Harry had found amusing and intriguing. His slightly sickly appearance and distant persona made the younger vampire want to get to know him better; it was just so peculiar that this seemingly impassive man was working at an illegal bar as a live musician. One would think that a performer would have to display an engaging character to keep a loyal audience, but Mitch had been all the talk of the underground despite his unemotional coolness. It was startlingly unorthodox and Harry just had to know more.

Therefore, with a bit of help from his convincing supernatural abilities, he’d secured a spot as the black market club’s leading vocalist. He wasn’t anything worth a Grammy, but he could keep his singing in tune and follow Mitch’s guitar rhythms easily enough, all thanks to his limited experience with piano. He fit right in.

From the first show they had put on together, it was like they had known one another in a different lifetime. They clicked so flawlessly it was almost fictional.

Harry was lively and charming on stage, working the crowd to his favor as easily as he could knock back a shot, wrapping every single patron around his jeweled pinky without breaking a sweat. His witty temperament countered Mitch’s timid disposition perfectly and that uncommon dynamic had been the foundation to their friendship. Their humorous shenanigans on stage (which included Harry pinching at Mitch’s ass and making vague vulgar motions at each other while harmonizing) was a hit within the drunken community, and it bled into their personal lives. They went from only interacting on stage to sharing drinks together afterwards, to hanging out outside of work, to deep late night conversations about the world and their experiences.

Soon enough, they were closer than either had expected to become. And once they found out each other’s true identities (Mitch had transitioned during the American Revolution, when a vampire in his battalion had given him blood to heal from a wound, unaware that the next day, Mitch would suffer a fatal gunshot to the stomach that would trigger his transformation) they grew inseparable. They had remained that way ever since.

Despite his friend’s withdrawn tendencies, the older vampire never hesitates to make his opinions heard, obvious in how he’d just full-bodied Harry with that snarky comment. Even when it’s at his expense, Harry appreciates and respects the rawness of it. He loves the way Mitch is honest and straight-forward with everything that crosses his path— it’s one of his favorite traits about him and definitely one of the characteristics that had led Harry to deem him his best friend. He’s probably the most fulfilling person Harry has ever met and their friendship brings him a type of comfort that he doesn’t receive from anyone else.

Vampires can be so detached and cold not only towards humans, but towards one another, and it gets old at times. It’s unsettling not having someone to truly confide in, and Harry is grateful that Mitch had been so willing to fill that position.

Due to this, Harry rarely takes genuine offense in Mitch’s digs. They’re normally expressed as a joke and they’ve both been alive for so long that thick skin is a default.

“How was I dick?” Harry inquires, slinking his head to the side with entertained curiosity. “If anything, he was the one being an asshole. I asked him to let us in nicely and he practically spit in my face!”

Mitch snorts in amusement, shaking his head lightly as his eyes streak across the humongous room in the same cunning manner Harry’s had. “You and Xander didn’t have to mock him that way.”

That’s another thing that makes Mitch the better half of their power duo— he still has a decent shred of humanity in his unbeating heart. Pessimistic conclusions aside, Harry does have a bit, as well...but his is more like a paper-thin pencil shaving than a shred. Barely there, but there, at least.

The young man returns his companion’s snort, rolling his eyes up to the hanging lights over their heads. “Was just some harmless teasing. Nothing bad came of it.”

Mitch scowls scoldingly. “It was unnecessary and mean.”

Harry mimics his expression with his nose scrunched sarcastically. “We were just taking the piss, and it’s not like he’s gonna remember it anyways. Stop being such a kill-joy.”

“Stop being such an arrogant little shit.”

“Or what?” Harry tilts his chin up challengingly, the amber specks around his pupils glinting tauntingly, faint black veins momentarily webbing across the whites of his eyes. He sweetens his voice into a honeyed drawl. “Are you gonna spank me, daddy? Have I been a bad boy?”

Mitch belts out a feathery chuckle, shoving his friend with enough strength to send a regular human flying across the deck. But since the taller vampire matches his force, he hardly moves an inch. “Fuck off.”

“I’m being serious!” Harry cackles, turning his hips and sticking out his ass towards his visibly disgusted acquaintance. “Go fucking in, if you want.”

He lowers his voice into a sultry hum, wagging his backside jestingly. “I like it rough, baby. Why don’t you bend me over this railing and show me who’s boss?”

It’s Mitch’s turn to roll his eyes to the ceiling, voice deadpan. “I think I’ll pass.”

Harry juts his lower lip into a theatrical pout, sniffling faux tears. “You’re rejecting me that quick? Who’s the asshole now, huh?”

His best friend doesn’t even blink. “Still you.”

“I can live with that. And it’s probably a good call on your end to give up all this,” he signals vaguely up and down his tight torso with a ringed hand, grinning as he watches the veteran vampire pretend to gag, “because I don’t think Sarah wouldn’t be too happy about it.”

Mitch’s humorous face immediately drops, eyes narrowing at the change in topic. “Very funny.”

“I know, right? I’m a proper comedian.” Harry quips proudly, batting his lashes mockingly. “Where is Sarah, anyways? Have you heard from her lately?”

Sarah and Mitch...They’re a complex couple, if they can even be called a couple. The two are more like occasional friends with benefits, “occasional” meaning “once every couple of months, if Sarah happens to be passing by.”

Their relationship is open and very loose, mostly due to the fact that Sarah is fairly new to the world of blood-driven immortality and has decided to take full advantage of it. She’s been using compulsion to travel the world for the last three years since she changed, which had been the result of an unfortunate car accident.

Mitch had been seeing her casually beforehand, keeping her around for the purpose of having a conventional feeding arrangement. Every time vampires feed, they heal the wounds they inflict with a bit of their blood, proceeding to then wipe the person’s memory with compulsion in order to eradicate any chances of getting caught. The caveat is that if a human dies with vampire blood in their system, they become one.

Sarah’s death happened the day after she’d spent a night with Mitch, and one can imagine how distressed she had been when she'd awoken atop a metal table in a morgue within the basement of a hospital. Mitch had been there from the very first second she’d opened her eyes to her new life. Or rather, her dead life. He had helped her get accustomed to the next stage (meaning having to cut family ties in order to avoid a catastrophe— the less people that know the truth about the supernatural, the better) coaxing her through transition and teaching her the way to go about the rest of eternity without putting herself and others in danger.

Vampires rarely have any compassion for life (usually out of spite, which stems from how their own lives were taken from them), so it’s not uncommon that bodies are found drained of blood in back alleys, abandoned warehouses, and washed up on banks of oceans and rivers. It could be either of two reasons, or even both: the monster doesn’t care about the consequences of their actions, or they never learned to control their urges.

Harry’s crew isn't that careless. Through Mitch, they had learned restraint, taking up his practice of feeding enough to satisfy themselves without killing the host, healing them, and then erasing the occurrence from their memories. Mitch had come up with the tactic to cling to his humanity— to be as kind and nondestructive as possible— but if Harry’s being honest, most of their friends only play along because it’s convenient. No bodies means no police involvement, and no police involvement means being able to settle down in one place for an extended period, not having to stress about the annoying process of bouncing around the world for the rest of their lives to avoid detection.

Keeping low was for the best, and when things get rough— whether it be a mistake on their part or a disastrous bender caused by another vampire passing through— they resort to drinking from blood bags until things tide over. Mitch has a contact at the nearest hospital, which is how he gets access to the stock, as well as how he managed to clean up Sarah’s passing so quickly.

All in all, Harry had only mentioned Sarah to tease his friend, knowing the slight sensitivity that comes with the subject. Vampires rarely form emotional bonds, typically because it can get really messy, really fast, whether that connection be to a mortal or to another creature of their species. All of them have baggage of some sort— you can’t die, resurrect, be forced to abandon your family, and be a slave to drinking blood for the rest of eternity and just...be normal. That type of extreme emotional turmoil is corrosive towards love. It’s always better to just avoid it all together.

That’s why this is so habitual to joke about; it’s a way to deflect.

Mitch sighs grandly, Harry’s question echoing in his skull. “I don’t know where she is, to be honest. Last we talked was, like, four weeks ago, I think. She was in Japan, said she was drumming for a new upcoming band. Haven’t heard from her since.”

Harry nods his head once in understanding, itching to steer the theme of their conversation elsewhere now that he knows the topic is in a more sensitive state than he’d imagined. He doesn’t want to push Mitch into a depressive episode when they’re supposed to be having a good time. Spending the night consoling his sulky friend in the bathroom of a club is the last thing he wants right now.

“I guess that makes Sarah the asshole, then.” He pokes jokingly, bumping the older vampire’s hip with his own. “She’s ghosting you. Get it? It’s funny ‘cause she’s actually dead.”

Mitch’s sad expression shatters like glass, replaced by one of unamused secondhand embarrassment at the shitty pun. “I fucking hate you.”

“All the people who were ahead of their time were hated.” Harry sing-songs, turning up his nose haughtily. “Copernicus, Socrates, Einstein— all of them were hated for being geniuses. I’m willing to carry that same burden.”

Mitch blinks at him three times. “No one hated Einstein.”

The curly-haired boy’s lips twitch darkly. “I’m pretty sure Japan did.”

“You’re going to hell.”

“I’m already there, mate.”

Mitch shakes his head, but even through the black lights, Harry can see him trying to ward off a laugh. After a moment’s pause, he speaks up again softly. “It’s not that hard to refrain from humiliating innocent people who are just doing their job, H.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake, you’re still on that?” The broad monster groans in exasperation, palms slapping down on the metal rungs below him. “We were just having some fun! But fine. If it helps you fake sleep at night, I’ll try and keep my condescending flare to a minimum.”

“That’s all I’m asking.” Mitch responds peacefully, tapping his nimble fingers casually along the railing, his action much less violent than his companion’s. “S’not too difficult.”

“Whatever.” Harry scoffs, returning his intent gaze to the dance floor, scoping out the scene once again in hopes of finding a proper meal for the night.

He zones in on a group of young women gathered along one side of the bar, their messy giggling and lack of balance giving away that they’re obviously sloshed off their faces. Seems promising enough.

When he talks once more, his tone holds an attitude that plays on a grumble, but it’s somewhat distracted. “The least you could do is let me have some fun, considering I didn’t even want to come.”

Mitch huffs, making an entertained noise in the back of his throat. “You say that every single time we go out, and yet you always end up taking someone home. Don’t know why you’re complaining.”

Harry side-eyes him from his peripheral vision, the corners of his pretty cherry mouth dipping down grudgingly, mood defensive. “You drag me to these things so I’m not going to apologize for making the best of it. I put a lot of effort into my pick-ups! I deserve to get my dick wet.”

“God, please don’t say that again.” His best mate physically makes a vomiting sound. “You’re acting like a spoiled fraternity douche.”

Harry’s gaze ignites into flames, his back straightening out as he fully turns to face the shorter man. He’s never been insulted so low before. “Take that back!”

“Take that back!” Mitch mocks in an exaggerated, high-pitched British accent, attempting to stifle giggles.

“Take it back! You know how much I hate Gen Z.”

“Okay, boomer.”

“You’re older than I am!”

“I know. Your lack of maturity is a constant reminder.”

Harry opens his mouth, prepared to make a sharp comeback about how Mitch should have left the shaggy-haired stoner aesthetic back in the eighties, but then a heavy Irish accent interrupts his rebuttal.

“What’s all this about getting your dick wet?”

Both of the vampires turn towards Niall, finding Xander and Adam accompanying him in a loose semi-circle.

Xander isn’t paying any attention, too busy tapping away at the screen of his smartphone, apparently engaged in a very riveting conversation with whoever is on the other side. Adam has his hands tucked into the pockets of his plum purple wind-breaker, looking over Harry’s shoulder, seeming to be adamantly searching for someone in particular amidst the mob on the level beneath them. Niall is the only one interested in their dying conversation, probably only because he heard something crude being mentioned.

“It’s nothing.” Harry dismisses, but he can’t help but stick Mitch with a glare. “What’s the plan for tonight, then?”

Adam speaks up for the first time. “Charlotte and Ny texted saying they got here about ten minutes ago. Mentioned they were dancing near the DJ station, so I think I’ll go find them.”

“Sounds good.” Harry bobs his head in accordance. “We’ll see you out there, yeah?”

Adam returns his action, turning on his heel and heading for the stairs that lead to the bottom floor. The leader of the group watches him trot onto the large spiral staircase, disappearing into the thick throng of people scattered across its wide steps.

Harry shifts his attention to Xander, snapping his fingers a few times in his direction and giving a two-toned whistle. “What about you? What’s got your head?”

“Not what, who.” Niall teases, wiggling his eyebrows suggestively and making kissy faces at their friend.

Xander ignores him, glancing up at the green-eyed brunette to let him know he’ll be with him in a second, returning his focus back to his iPhone. After a few more elongated moments of typing, the older man finally locks his device.

“I have a date.” He throws out casually, almost as if it should be obvious.

“A date?” Harry reiterates slowly, not quite buying it. Xander doesn’t date. He couch-surfs just as much as Harry does.

“Mmhm.” Xander glimpses behind his fellow vampire, eyes carrying intention. “It’s just a random dude from Tinder. I thought it’d be easier to set something up beforehand, just so I don’t have to spend the whole night trying to figure out if a guy is making eyes at me or trying to keep his whiskey down.”

“Smart.” Harry shrugs his sculpted brows, impressed. A cocky grin toys with the corners of his mouth. “But we both know no one will ever compare to me.”

“Right.” Xander scoffs in a deadpan manner, gifting him a tight, aggravated smile. “If only you weren’t such an emotionally unavailable prick.”

“Oh, like you’re mentally stable enough for a relationship?” Harry bites back, but it holds no true malice, just some petty rivalry. “Piss off.”

“Happily!” The other vampire exclaims, clasping his hands together for dramatics. “Have fun finding someone out there. I’m just gonna grab a to-go box for my already prepped meal.”

Harry doesn’t bother watching him leave. Instead, he turns to Niall, pointing at him to symbolize it's his turn to share his plans for the night. “What have you got, Lucky Charms?”

His friend breaks into a jolly cackle at the nickname, arms falling crossed over his chest, hands absentmindedly squeezing his elbows in thought. “Well, I dunno, Tea and Crumpets. What’s your game plan?”

Before Harry can answer, Mitch butts in, feeling left out of the banter and somewhat hurt that no one had assigned him an alter ego. “What’s my country-derived nickname?”

Niall gives the American a slow once-over, shifting in his dark brown Clarks boots, fitted navy slack riding up his thighs and allowing his rainbow polka-dot socks to peek out. He hums lowly in the back of his throat, a grin spreading across his rosy cheeks. “Biscuits and Gravy.”

Harry chimes in, his own arms casually folding over his strong chest, index finger tapping on his bottom lip as if mulling something over. “I quite like We The People, actually.”

The Irish lad snaps his fingers as if having a sudden epiphany. “Uncle Sam!”

Harry’s emerald eyes twinkle with glee at seeing the way Mitch’s go half-lidded, no longer entertained. “Four Score And Seven Years Ago.”

“Okay, I think that’s enou—”

Niall wags a finger at Harry, lifting one shoulder in question, seeking approval on his next idea. “Star Spangled Banner?”

Harry copies the boy’s motion from before, snapping his fingers and making jazz hands. “I Pledge Allegiance.”

“Ok, I get it!” Mitch whines with annoyed finality, pushing off the metal railing with a curt grimace on his scraggly face.

“You asked!” Niall rationalizes between hiccups of evilly delighted joy, cupping his stomach as if to keep it from splitting open.

“Won’t make that mistake again.” The older creature grumbles, leaning his back against the rungs and looking off towards the distance, communicating that he’s done being a part of the conversation.

Once Harry manages to reign in his giggles, he rubs at his nose with the side of his finger, releasing a wistful sigh. He refers to the question Niall had stated before their little bullying fest. “I think I’m just gonna do what I always do— sway a nice, pretty girl into doing some not-so-nice but very pretty things.”

“Solid.” The Irish bloke remarks, toying with the plastic buttons on his silk beige top. “Not much to do other than that, to be fair. Adam’s usually my wingman, but I guess he abandoned me for a girl’s night.”

“Mitch is mine, and he knows better than to dip on me.” Harry roughly nudges his best friend with his elbow, dodging to the side when Mitch tries to hit him in return.

Niall hums softly in amusement. “Maybe I should make Adam sign whatever contract you drafted for that poor bugger.”

The curly brunette snorts. “Good luck. Adam’s as stubborn as they come. But, hey, if you can’t find anyone, just come to me.” Harry’s irises flit crimson for a millisecond, an ominous smirk buckling his features. “You know I’m always happy to share.”

“Thanks,” his friend exhales flatly. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

“If you’re taking tips,” Mitch pipes up, vaguely signaling at Niall’s shirt with his chin, “maybe don’t wear that stupid shirt next time. The elephant doodles look ridiculous.”

“It’s a good thing I’m not taking fashion tips from anyone who actually enjoyed living in Ohio, then.” Niall snaps in an exaggerated American accent, middle finger jutting towards the other man. “The only thing you know how to dress is a cornfield scarecrow. Must be why you look like one.”

Harry forces down more laughter, clearing his throat softly. “You’ll be fine. Just don’t get hammered— girls hate that.”

“Note taken.” The pale boy runs his fingers through his hair, fixing it up and adding texture to appear more laid-back and rugged. “I’ll see you later, then.”

“Later.” The younger vampire recites, giving a big thumbs-up.

“Good luck out there. You, too, Boston Tea Party.”

With that, Niall saunters away, leaving a fully laughing Harry and a grouchy Mitch in his wake.

The two acquaintances decide to follow in everyone else’s example, descending down the looped staircase and chatting about Mitch’s latest gig at a new bar downtown.

Harry praises Mitch's talent with his guitar, specifically the fact that he found a hobby which he enjoys so much that he’s willing to keep it as a permanent part of his life. It’s easy to get bored of things when you have hundreds of years ahead of you; everything can seem pointless, in the end. But Harry doesn’t think Mitch has ever let himself fall into those types of dark headspaces and he finds that extremely admirable.

Harry wishes he could say the same. He’s no musical prodigy, that much is obvious, but he is an expert at playing a few specific French songs on the piano by memory. He rarely does it, though; only when he’s in a low state of mind, which— given the origin of how he learned said classical pieces— isn’t something he’s proud of. They’re tied to a very gruesome part of his past that he’d rather bury deep inside, but he can only push back his troubles for so long before they begin to leak out, staining the clean sheet of recovery he had sewn into place. Those arrangements just bring him a warped sense of comfort he can’t explain.

Even though he’s aware of the destructive aspects of the songs, he finds himself humming one now out of instinct as he elbows through squished bodies and flailing limbs. The second he notices he’s doing it, he cuts it off, focusing all his intention on making it to the other side of the room to the bar. It’s a hard trip when it feels like the walls of the building are closing in on him.

When Harry finally breaks free from the Human Centipede re-enactment that is the club dance floor, he practically collapses onto the sleek glass counter. Death was less painful than that walk.

He cranes his neck to the side wildly, suddenly remembering that his much smaller, much skinnier, much more crushable friend had been in tow behind him. To his utter shock, he watches as Mitch calmly weeds around grinding drunk couples with the poise and grace of a swan, filling the empty spot besides him without a single ailment in the world.

Harry blinks at him blankly in silence, almost as if he’d grown an extra set of fangs.

Mitch flags the bartender from all the way down the counter, not bothering to meet the green eyes peering at him in disbelief. “You’re so fucking dramatic, H.”

“How did you not die? Again?” Harry sputters, sight jutting all around the older vampire’s body, looking for any battle wounds or missing appendages. “I almost lost an arm in there!”

“It’s a good thing it wasn’t your favorite one, right?” Mitch smirks at his own lewd joke, the simper molding into one of genuine kindness when the mixologist slides up in front of them. “Hi, how are you? I’m good, as well, thank you for asking! Yeah, I’ve got something in mind. Don’t worry, I’m not one of the ‘just make me something sweet’ type of assholes.”

Harry zones out the rest of the friendly chat Mitch entertains with the employee, letting his gaze wander around the large auditorium-like room. He dances his vision over the DJ remixing music on top of the stage, head beginning to bop along to the beat that is currently shaking the seven foot tall speakers. He’s pleasantly surprised at how good this specific producer is.

He continues scoping out the rest of the venue, taking notes of the different clusters of people that seem to hold promise for the plans he has in store later tonight. A small group of hippie friends here, a two-party duo of tipsy stoners there, and a clump of college students at the edge of the ruckus, stumbling around loudly. Things are looking somewhat decent, in his opinion. The hippies seem to be catching his attention more than the others— specifically, the one that looks similar to Stevie Nicks. That’s a fantasy that’s been waiting to be fulfill for decades now.

Harry lulls his head forward again when he feels Mitch give a squeeze at his elbow, telling him that the bartender is waiting to take his order. He decides to go for the gold tequila, asking for it straight in a highball glass without any garnishes. The worker’s eyebrows jump up slightly at the unorthodox request, but he drops a polite, “Coming right up.” either way.

“You truly have no flavor.” Mitch tuts once their waiter has stepped away to prepare their drinks. “No taste buds whatsoever.”

“Yeah? Well, you can suck my flavorless dick.” Harry chimes brightly, eyes crinkling shut as a result of a theatrical smile.

The younger vampire goes to turn back around, legitimately interested in the girl he’d seen that looked like one of his seventies celebrity crushes, already running through scenarios in his head on how he’d get her into his bed for tonight. Weed and ABBA are probably good conversation starters for that, if Harry’s undisputed people skills have anything to say about it.

As he’s rotating his torso, a blurred image catches his eyes. He does a double-take, honing in on a group of girls that look faintly familiar. He scans them carefully as they huddle around the corner of the bar area, laughing and toasting along to the multiple conversations they all have going at once. They look like the typical posse that would be a backdrop clique in a mainstream movie.

He knows where he recognizes them from— it had been the same girls he’d spotted earlier up on the second deck.

Harry expertly surveillances each woman, picking out potential candidates as easily as he’d pinch petals off a flower. The one in the center of the group is obviously the leader, present in how she’s the prettiest and is somehow managing to juggle all of these interactions at once. It means she’s used to being the center of attention— probably strives under it. He throws her out as a potential; the last thing he needs is someone who everyone knows and seeks out. He wouldn’t be able to sneak away with her quietly.

The rest of the girl crew all seem to be the same status-wise, appearing as supporting characters to the main one in the middle. He could choose any one of them blindly and it wouldn’t make a difference. They all seem so tight-knit, they probably share personalities, at this point. It’s like dipping his hand into a jar of jelly beans and they’re all the same flavor. That notion makes him laugh to himself a bit; maybe Mitch was right about his lack of taste.

Then, Harry spots her, and all the other women immediately go up in smoke.

It’s hard not to spot her. She sticks out like a sore thumb, but not in a good way.

The prospective contender is off to the side, sitting atop a barstool with her feet tucked along the footrest, tapping them against the metal rung awkwardly. She’s talking to one of the other people in the group, but the interaction seems forced and not very satisfying, obvious in both of their faces. She’s tracing her middle finger around the edge of her glass cup distractedly, the contents inside barely touched, the ice in her drink long-melted. She seems disinterested in the chaos her friends are causing, her expression bored and borderline regretful, as if she doesn’t want to be here.

The further he sizes the girl up, the more appropriate she looks for the role he needs filled. Since barely anyone is paying attention to her, that means he can lead her astray without too much resistance from her acquaintances, if any at all. She appears somewhat unimportant to the narrative— merely a background extra— and it makes him wonder what she’s doing with this clique of women that can’t seem to be bothered by her presence. It’s sad, really. Sad, but beneficial, because that means he can succeed in making her the supporting protagonist of his narrative, at least for tonight.

The girl is attractive, but not anything astronomical. She’s unconventionally pretty in a way that makes her relevant, but not particularly distinct in the eyes of regular men with presumptuous standards. She’s easy to pass up, and if Harry hadn’t been actively pursuing someone of her bashful persona to card into his plans, he wouldn’t have noticed her. At the risk of once again sounding shallow, Harry’s aware that— physically speaking— he’s very much out of her league. His above-average appearance gives off the vibe that he’d fit better with the leader of the group instead of with her, but he doesn’t want someone that would raise suspicions as a result of their absence. This girl, sitting along the edge of the party with barely any purpose and no one to really question her whereabouts, is exactly what he’s looking for. She’s perfectly imperfect for the cause.

Harry continues to examine her meticulously, analyzing other traits that can give him a better feel for her character. She’s clad in a pair of high-waisted pastel pink silk pants that stop right at her ankles, accompanied by a flouncy creme lace blouse tucked into her waist. Tan wedges, no accessories, delicate rosey nail polish, and minimalist makeup. The boldest thing about her is the brick red shade of her lipstick, which is easily shadowed by the sparkly sequin dresses, five inch heels, and layered tops her friends are wearing.

Harry likes her outfit, though. It’s concise and safe, which he can appreciate. Yes, perhaps she looks like she belongs in a dentist’s office rather than a Los Angeles nightclub, but he thinks there’s beauty in simplicity. She looks cute, and that’s good enough for him.

“She seems interesting.” Mitch’s soft voice snaps him out of his detail-hungry haze, drawing him back into the reality that is the black lighting of the club and the deep booming of the music’s bass.

His friend slides his tall drink across the glass counter, the amber liquid inside warping his reflection.

“I suppose so.” Harry answers passively, shrugging one shoulder in indifference while accepting the cup, ringed fingers clinking against the crystalline surface.

He takes a leisurely sip from the straight tequila, its tangy kick sending a warm surge up through his ears and down his throat, spreading into his chest and along the trench of his tummy. Alcohol really is the cure to everything.

Mitch gives him a deadpan look, the strobe lights alternating across the glossy surface of his hazel irises, highlighting smugness. “You’ve been gawking for five minutes. Put your pride back in your pants and go talk to her.”

The curly-haired vampire flashes him a light smirk over the rim of his drink, absentmindedly tapping his two initial rings along the bottom of the highball cup. “Ever so blunt, aren’t you?”

Mitch scuffs, taking a swig from his trusty beer bottle. Out of everything, that’s the one aspect Harry despises about his best mate— that he goes to a club and orders the same drink every time. Where was the fun in that? Where was the excitement of trying something new? When you have an eternity, the least you could do is utilize it to your advantage. Cycling through every cocktail in human history is a prime example of making the best out of immortality.

But Mitch is a creature of habit— as are most of their kind— and Harry knows he won’t shake easily. Not when it comes to surrendering his preferred beverage, and definitely not when it comes to sticking his nose in Harry’s intimate business. Meddling and being irritating are what best friends are for.

“What can I say? Pep talks are my forte.” The older monster remarks sarcastically, bumping his bottle against Harry’s glass in encouragement, using the spout of his container to point in the general direction of the mysterious girl. “Now go make dinner.”

“But, darlinggggg,” Harry whines playfully, a smirk still tugging at the corners of his slightly liquor-swollen lips. “I made dinner last night. Isn’t it your turn?”

Mitch rolls his eyes and shoves Harry’s shoulder harshly, with just enough force that it actually has some type of impact this time around. “Just go, before she gets creeped out by your staring.”

Harry’s own irises copy his friend’s actions as he pushes himself up from the bar, rubbing at the new sore spot on his shoulder with an exaggerated pout present. “Ow.”

Mitch blinks at him flatly, fighting off a grin. “You’ve had worse. Go.”

Harry swivels on his heel, once again facing the group of tipsy girls at the other end of the counter. It appears that most of them have dispersed into the dance floor, having found partners to entertain them for the time being, moving to the music as if there are no other people in the room. They had left behind three of their companions, one of which is Harry’s aspiring hookup; he gets the feeling that the two girls had stayed behind out of the kindness of their hearts, feeling too guilty to leave the runt of the litter all on her own. He hopes that’s the case because if so, the second Harry inserts himself into the situation, they’ll take that chance and split, leaving him to tend his meal in peace.

He tucks one large hand into the front pocket of his trousers, the grip on his glass tightening a smidge, rings biting into his skin as the condensation of the chilled tequila cools the small spike of pain. He spins his lionhead ring around his finger within his slacks, gradually drifting closer as he goes through a checklist of prized pick-up lines he could use to garner her attention. He ducks and dodges inebriated club-goers with ease now that he’s had something to take the edge off, finally reaching the end of the bar, slowly coming to a halt right behind his target for the night.

Harry nearly passes out as soon as her scent hits him.

It’s faint and tender and nothing quite like anything he’s encountered before, a mixture of honey and lavender that permeates through her normal perfume. He feels like his head’s been put through a wringer, his whole body clenching for a moment as raging sparks erupt across the pit of his belly. He indulges a deep breath, willing the blazing current away in order to keep his cool, but all he can see flashing before his eyes are images of her leaving traces of that smell smeared all over his face as he bobs his head between her quivering thighs.

He takes another penetrating inhale, centering his mind back into the present. He needs to behave.

Her friends spot him immediately, their side of the conversation faltering to ash. They give Harry a wide-eyed once-over, mouths parting in slight shock as they drink up his attractive appearance, gazes lingering along his thick chest as it strains the baby blue material of his tee. Their sights drag across his broad shoulders, dainty collarbones, and strong neck, faces gawking without remorse, blinking emptily at the slope of his sharp jaw and the peaks of his prominent cheekbones. They seem to be at a loss for words the second his dimples indent into place, his brows shrugging in a half-assed greeting before he cocks his head to side a tad, voice velvet as it directs towards the girl they had forgotten existed.

“I’m guessing you’re the designated driver?”

Y/N jumps slightly in response at the new addition to the painfully dying conversation, not recognizing the heavy English accent and deep baritone that booms behind her. She had been wondering why Melissa and Isabel had stopped talking so abruptly, and she now has her answer.

Y/N slowly goes to cast a curious glance over her shoulder and Harry can hear the pulse flaring in her neck from the sudden intrusion to her surroundings. His fangs prick along the inside of his bottom lip due to carnal instincts; he has to will them back into receding.

When her eyes land on the owner of the random words, her finger immediately halts its swirling motions along the hem of her glass.

‘Fuck.’ is the only thought that registers through her short-circuiting mind.

The lanky, curly-haired brunette that stands before her gives a gentle yet confident smile, the gesture dazzling even in the low lighting of the atmosphere. He’s absolutely gorgeous, with deep pits carving into his cheeks, perfect teeth complimenting full cherry red lips, eyes the color of a rainforest canopy, and a broad frame that is somehow not overwhelming. He’s sporting neatly ironed tan slacks, a fitted cotton shirt with a cute yet crude graphic at its center, a fancy plaid coat, and crisp yellow Vans without a single smudge in sight.

Y/N can’t help but take notice of all the little details of his fit, especially the accessories. A beautiful pearl necklace laid along his delicate clavicle, a cross resting between his defined pectorals, and a matching earring dangling from his earlobe. Not to mention the array of clunky rings arranged along nimble fingers, hugging a tall glass carrying caramel liquor and somehow managing to dwarf the cup’s size. The extra decoration is sensual in such an unexpectedly delicious manner.

The hand he has tucked in his pants ducks out to comb through his dark auburn ringlets and Y/N can feel her mouth water at the new round of elegant rings. The action activates the cologne Harry had thoughtfully spritz in specific pressure points along his body, the scent of tobacco and vanilla traveling through the fog-heavy air and causing Y/N’s stomach to summersault.

The young man is as close to flawless as anyone could ever come.

Y/N feels an unmistakable sharp pain shoot through her ankle, and she comes to the realization that it had been the tip of one of her friend’s heels. The reality check jars her out of the embarrassing daze he’d spelled onto her, open mouth snapping shut and her lashes fluttering over her previously unblinking eyes.

“Oh! Uhm—uh—” She clumsily twists sideways to fully face him, swallowing thickly and tasting the remnants of the alcohol she’d barely been nursing. “N-No. I’m not— well, I don’t think…? We Ubered here so that wouldn’t make any sense ‘cause I have no car to drive...so...”

The boy chuckles softly at her choppy monologue, his laughter warm and inviting, similar to the look reflecting off his shiney irises, the golden flecks around his pupils seeming to swell and shrink from the rainbow lights cascading across them. Despite being caught off guard and utterly embarrassed, she can’t seem to break eye contact with him. The longer she gazes into his eyes, the more relaxed she begins to feel, a fuzzy heat stemming from the center of her belly and spreading up her neck and ears.

Y/N gulps heavily like before, willing her tongue to produce a less embarrassing comment. “Sorry. Let me...Let me start over…Hi.”

“Hello.” He quips back playfully, lopsided grin widening in fond amusement. He lifts his drink up a bit in greeting. “M’Harry.”

“Y/N.” The girl squeaks out, copying his gesture because it’s easier than forcing her disoriented brain to try and come up with its own.

Harry flirts his intent up and down Y/N’s body slowly, checking her out without any subtlety. He wants her to know he’s interested.

When his sight locks with hers again, he bats his lashes sultrily and pours as much passion as he can into his tone, accent weighing in just right. “S’nice to meet you, Y/N.”

Her entire face prickles at how her name sounds dripping from those faultless raspberry lips. She’d pay anything to hear him say it again. “You, too.”

This is not what Y/N intended. This is most definitely not what she’d intended to happen when she’d reluctantly agreed to go out with some coworkers on a Friday night, giving in simply because she had promised herself she’d be more social within her new job.

She had moved to California roughly two months ago, wanting to get away from her old life in the small, boring town she hated to call home. Buying the flight had been a drastic decision made when she had been under the influence of something she’d rather not admit, but the following day— after she had sobered up from a wicked hangover— she found herself not wanting to cancel the trip. Found herself craving the excitement and adventure of beginning anew somewhere far away from everything she had ever known.

All of Y/N’s friends back home had supported her without hesitation, egging her preposterous idea and congratulating her on “getting the fuck out of here.” Her family had been a little less supportive, but after a few heartfelt chats about following your ambitions and a budgeting lesson from her cousin, they had gingerly gotten on board. They understood that keeping her trapped in that lame town where nothing really happened wasn’t the way to ensure her success in life. Therefore, the people closest to her had swallowed their opinions and respected her choice to dive off the deep end, in search of something better beyond the borders of their tiny city.

Within a week, Y/N had secured a decent job at a semi-popular cafe, courtesy of a connection from a family friend. Within two weeks, after many sleepless nights full of Rocky Road ice cream and the bright white pages of ApartmentFinder.com, she had managed to book a nice flat close to her place of work. It was a miracle, if she’d ever seen one. Especially within the crowded, expensive community that is Los Angeles. Within three weeks, she had been walking out of the giant glass building that was LAX with only two suitcases in tow, boarding an Uber to her new life.

Things had never seemed more picturesque, she’d thought. Everything was falling into place in a way that seemed almost blessed by the universe.

Then, the culture shock hit.

California was different. It’s was so fucking different than anything she’d ever faced and she wasn’t prepared for the social difficulties she’d have to hurdle. All her life, Y/N had grown up with the same people around her, spending every school year with them up until graduation, expanding her friend group as time passed. Even after high school, she’d remained closely connected with most of her graduating class. The region she lived in was tiny, tight-knit and friendly; it was hard not to. She couldn’t even go to the store for groceries without bumping into at least three people from her Algebra II class.

Point being, it had been ages since Y/N had been put in a situation where she actively had to try and make friends. She’d been through that challenge way back in kindergarten and had never been hit with it again.

Until it smacked her across the head here in LA.

Y/N didn’t mesh well with Californians, she quickly found out. They were all about crazy parties and club-hopping, whereas Y/N had been raised on community cookouts and mass sleepovers. They enjoyed getting cross-faded and streaking down the beach at two in the morning, meanwhile Y/N liked stripping down to her undies and spending the night binging Queer Eye while stuffing her face with Cheeze-Its and Snickers bars. They freely boasted about their sex adventures while bussing down tables at the restaurant, while Y/N’s intimate life had been nonexistent since the move.

It was just...startling, to put it lightly. It wasn’t what she had expected at all, and that’s mostly her fault for not doing the correct amount of research before jumping headfirst into a cliche LifeTime film.

Therefore, Y/N had made a pact with herself one month in, swearing to let loose and allow her surroundings to sweep her into a new dynamic— into a new, social butterfly version of herself. She’d started accepting the invitations from her coworkers to go out at night, and she’d started putting more effort into being open to wild experiences, no matter how scary they might seem. Shutting down and refusing to mold to her environment would only result in her having to return home with her tail between her legs, and she’d rather jump naked off a pier than see her parents’ faces wracked with pity.

And that’s exactly what she’d done a couple nights ago, at the encouragement of the group of girls she was at the club with now. It had, in turn, ended in her coming down with a mild cold, but at least now she’d be able to tell her friends back home a cool story about dropping inhibitions.

Dropping inhibitions is also why Y/N’s here tonight, dressed in the most party-like outfit she could put together, prodding an overly-boozy drink into her system, attempting to release some of the tension that had been building in her head for the last couple of weeks since she’d left her old life behind. That’s why she’s here, with strands of her blow-dried hair catching on the dark red gloss Melissa has slathered on her mouth in a thick layer. That’s why she’s here, with synthetic smoke scratching at her lungs and drunken men and women bumping into her every two minutes, most of them too busy sticking their tongues down each other’s throats to realize they’d almost toppled her off her seat. That’s why she’s here, with a blasé expression plastered across her features as her coworkers talk over her head without a second thought, her mind far away from the walls of this overhyped horror house.

Y/N had been thinking about how she’d just started her Disney+ membership, finding comfort in putting together a mental checklist of all the movies she’s going to plow through the second she sets foot past the doorframe of her apartment. Indulging on her childhood was an ideal form of escapism, in her opinion. She’s positive Walt Disney would agree.

That’s what her brain had been lost in when Harry’s deep, melodic voice had interrupted her daydreams, sending her spiraling into an embarrassing performance of nerve-induced hysteria.

Now here she is, blinking back at him dumbly, eyes the smallest bit damp from the smoke machine and neon flashes of light. And here he is, smirking at her over the rim of his glass, eyes raking down her wired up body suggestively as he takes a calm sip from what appears to be the straight tequila in his colossal, bejeweled hand.

The English boy takes a gradual step closer to her, wanting to make sure he’s not crossing any boundaries that would make her uncomfortable. The scent of his cologne intensifies and she feels a fiery heat suddenly pour between her clasped thighs. It just hits her how long it’s truly been since she’s gotten laid and fuck, it’s sad.

Harry begrudgingly peels his attention away from Y/N for a second, aiming his words towards the girls standing behind her with their mouths still opened stupidly. Even from a respectful distance, his warm breath still washes across her jaw and cheek, causing electricity to zip down her spine. “You don’t mind if I steal her for a bit, do you?”

‘Yeah,’ Y/N thinks in the back of her muddled skull, ‘that’s definitely tequila.’

Isabel and Melissa slowly shake their heads in unison, glancing at each other as if to confirm he’d just spoken to them.

The edges of Harry’s lips jolt into a kind, easygoing smile. “Thank you. Promise I’ll keep her safe.”

Y/N feels her heart hiccup at his statement. If she’s not insanely mistaken, it appears to have carried an undertone of dirty intentions. God, she’s praying she’s not mistaken.

The two girls clamber away on their tall pumps, rounding around Harry and pausing for a moment. They make moaning faces and vulgar motions behind him, encouraging Y/N to pursue the stranger. She then watches them disappear into the throng of crowded bodies, leaving her alone with the beautiful boy and her heart slamming against her ribs.

Y/N focuses back onto Harry, licking her itching lips lightly, not knowing what to say next as he settles himself beside her. He rests his forearm on the counter along with his drink, tucking his other hand back into his trouser pocket and fixing himself into a comfortable standing position, crossing his ankles nonchalantly. The friction between his jacket and the bar rides his sleeve up an inch or so, and Y/N gets a view of the anchor tattoo he has along his wrist, as well as the upside-down cross inked between his thumb and index finger.

Harry catches her looking, mouth twitching with a smidge of arrogant self-assurance. He loves when girls drool over his tats.

“I have more.” He remarks lightly, a pang of condescending pleasure shooting through his chest at the way she jerks and pins her gaze down to the floor.

Blood rushes into her cheeks at the realization that she’s been caught and Harry’s teeth grind. It’s so hot watching her fidget for him. Maybe he finds her more attractive than he’d originally let on. “Would you like to see them?”

Y/N timidly coaxes herself into locking stares with him once again, looking up at him from beneath her lashes, barely nodding with a soft, “Sure.”

She looks so pretty like that, he notices, staring up at him all doe-eyed and shy. It’d probably look even better if she were on her knees.

Yeah, he definitely likes her more than he’d thought.

Harry proceeds to shift about, shrugging his coat off his strong shoulders, letting it slip down his lean arms and reveal the plethora of dark tattoos strewn across his left arm. Y/N watches avidly, drinking up every flex of his biceps under the black paint and every twitch of his pecs beneath his cotton shirt, the tendons along his throat going taut for just a moment. That moment is enough for her to etch the image into the back of her eyelids for the rest of her life.

Harry tosses the article onto the table, extending his arm over its surface for her to get a better reading. She doesn’t miss the chance, her pupils tracing over every line and stroke of the pen, over every shaded area and meticulous detail.

His voice comes out as a low, garbled murmur, his own irises studying her features with just as much intensity. “You can touch them, if you’d like. I don’t mind.”

After a moment of hesitation, the brim of her crystalline cup is replaced by the ridges of his smooth, tanned skin. She drags her digits over the naked mermaid, tracing the curve of her figure and the dip of her tail, then passing onto the stem of the large rose, ghosting over every thorn and prickle. Harry can feel her heartbeat through her fingertips and it’s making him throb.

“They’re very pretty.” Y/N whispers, allowing her touch to fall away, palm finding refuge across the counter. “Did they hurt?”

“A bit, yeah. But I’ve gotten so many done that I think I grew numb to the needle after a while.” Harry answers, shrugging one shoulder to show it’s no big deal. He grasps his glass once again and takes a drawn-out swig, extending the action just so she can see the way his Adam’s Apple bobs as he swallows. Once the cup is back in its place, his tongue peeks out and swipes any leftover liquid from his rosy lips, which then settle into a coy simper. “Plus, I kinda like the pain.”

Y/N’s breathing stutters in her lungs and she swiftly swerves the topic onto something much less explicit. “So why’d you ask if I was the designated driver? That’s kind of an odd question. Very out of the blue.”

Harry lulls his middle finger across the hem of his glass, exactly how she had been doing earlier, the motion weighed by an innuendo. She seems to understand it, present in how she bites into the inside of her cheek. “I just figured that a pretty girl like you would have easily found someone to dance with. So when I saw you sitting here looking all bored with your drink barely touched…I just assumed, I suppose.”

And there it is again— the blood pouring into her face. Christ, if she keeps that up, he’s going to fucking lose it.

“Thank you, that’s— that’s really sweet. Proper gentleman.”

Harry runs his bottom lip between his teeth, eyes snapping to her tinted mouth for a second, establishing some sexual tension that he’ll expand on as they go. “Who doesn’t like a guy who knows how to treat a girl, right?”

Y/N clears her throat softly, obviously phased by his forward compliment, but she tries to play it off. “To answer your question, I— uhm...I’m not really one for the club scene, I guess. Don’t really like it, but I didn’t want to be rude and turn down the invitation.”

‘Good girl,’ Harry thinks, silently cheering her on for having more brain cells than the typical human.

“Well, that’s where we share some common ground, then.” He chimes brightly, a soft smile bringing his dimples to life. “I don’t care for clubs, either, but my friends have an affinity for them so here I am.”

He gestures vaguely towards the general direction where he’d left Mitch, continuing his rant. “The choking smoke, the annoying strobe lights, the crowded floor, the drunk morons—”

“Bumping into you without giving a shit.” Y/N finishes his sentence, her vulgarity drawing a boyish giggle from her companion and now she’s convinced she’d do anything to hear him laugh like that again. “And there’s always a faint smell of vomit coming from somewhere.”

Harry slaps his hand down against the glass table in passionate agreement, voice pitching up slightly as his brows jump in emotion. “Right?! It’s fucking disgusting. Don’t understand how anyone could genuinely enjoy it.”

Y/N nods vehemently, sharing the same expression of utter distaste towards the subject. “It honestly doesn’t make any sense to me, either. Why come here when you can go to, like, a nice bar somewhere, y’know?”

Harry blinks at her in astonishment, her opinion mirroring his own with psychic-like accuracy. “My thoughts exactly.”

“Great minds think alike.” Y/N responds playfully, taking a hearty gulp from her drink since the first time he’d spotted her from across the room.

After a comfortable pause, Harry speaks up, also entertaining another sip from his own drink, which is now nearly empty. “Are you from around here?”

She can’t be. Rarely anyone born and raised here is willing to bash the status quo, and never so openly.

She’s once again mesmerized by the attractiveness of his rings, but manages to get her composure in check. “Kinda. I moved here about two months ago.”

Precisely his point.

Harry releases a curious hum over the cup between his lips. “Let me be the one to officially welcome you to Cali, then! Where people go to shitty clubs for fun and tan themselves into a strip of leather.”

Y/N sputters out a half-suppressed giggle and Harry’s brows almost furrow at the weird fluttering in his stomach. He rarely gets it.

Y/N takes another deep gulp of what he thinks is probably an Old Fashioned, silently praising the way she’d finished it off so quickly. She crunches an ice shard between her teeth and lets it melt across her tongue before engaging again. “I’m guessing you’re not from around here either though, are you?”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to chuckle a bit and she fights off an endeared smile.

“What gave it away?” He asks, purposefully doing a thicker, fuller accent, his teasing nature making the grin she’d just stifled fully break through.

Y/N lifts a shoulder offhandedly. “Your accent seems a little too…posh for this area. Or even this hemisphere.”

Harry scoffs softly, the pinky around his glass sticking up jokingly as he kinks an eyebrow at her, a few rouge curls falling across his forehead. “Keen ears, mate.”

Y/N lifts her drink up a bit with a playfully knowing air, mimicking an English dialect. “Cheers.”

He places his empty cup down on the counter, his middle finger once more ghosting around the edge absentmindedly. She notices the pastel yellow polish covering his nails, tiny black smiley faces decorating the lacquer.

“I like your nails.” She admires, tipping her empty lowball towards his hand for significance. “Did you do them yourself?”

Harry glances at his fingers, stretching and wiggling them out, his features taking on a bit of pride. “Sure did.”

“Don’t think I’ve ever met a guy at a club who could pull off nail polish so easily.”

The left edge of his lips flicks upwards. “How do you mean?”

Y/N’s gaze bounces back to his and the tone twirling in his jade irises tells her everything she needs to know about keeping this conversation going: he enjoys being praised.

She chooses her next words carefully, wanting to appeal to his interests. “I mean that it looks amazing on you. The color suits your skin nicely, makes your hands look good.”

Harry breaks eye contact, glimpsing down at his shoes and she realizes he’s actually trying to hide a blush. The fact that she had managed to coax one out of him boosts her confidence while simultaneously making his own waver. He’s never like this— never so easily flustered. He needs to get it together.

Harry tilts his chin back up, lower lip strung between his two front teeth. His voice comes out as a flirty laugh.

“Known you for maybe,” he looks at the beautiful watch on his wrist symbolically, “ten minutes, and you’re already stroking my ego just the way I like it. I think that’s a record.”

Y/N doesn’t know if it’s the liquor she’d just consumed too quickly, or if it’s Harry’s intoxicatingly alluring scent dulling the region of her brain that controls fear, but she’s suddenly filled with a strange surge of courage and her thoughts are spilling down her semi-numb tongue before she can stop them. “I’ve been told I’m pretty good at stroking, so an ego’s not too hard to handle.”

Harry cocks an eyebrow, surprised at her brazen reply. He might have misjudged her more than he assumed. However, he can’t say he doesn’t enjoy this girl more than the one he thought he was going to receive. There’s just something about how she can match his banter without a problem, and how they share a lot of the same thoughts and opinions, that just lights a fire in his stomach.

“Is that so?” His voice lowers in pitch and he scoots a step closer, fingers just barely brushing against her arm as he repositions himself against the bar. His question comes out as a sultry murmur. “What else can you handle?”

Y/N knows that she’s starting to cross a line, and with every passing moment, the likelihood of returning to her friends is getting smaller and smaller. She’s not mad about it. Riding off of the wave of confidence that had inflated her ego earlier, she mumbles her response back with the same tone and texture. “How about you buy me another drink and then maybe you’ll find out?”

Harry gives her a boyish grin and the indents that pop into his cheeks nudge his appearance from an incredibly attractive man to an adorable cheeky boy. He motions to the bartender for another round of drinks, only letting his eyes flicker away from her for the moment it takes to do it. “How do you like LA so far?”

“It’s...alright.” It’s Y/N’s turn to move closer to him now, flicking her hair off her shoulder, hoping that the motion releases the perfume she’d dabbed on her neck while getting ready. Judging by the darkening of Harry's eyes, it does just that. “It’s definitely a change in pace from where I used to live, but I think I’m slowly gaining the reigns. I feel like once I get acquainted, I could grow to love it.”

“LA’s definitely a toggle. You could either vibe with it, or it’ll eat you alive and spit you back out.”

She bats her lashes at him in stunned fright at his bluntness, his face deadly serious without any twitch or give.

Harry then bursts into high-pitched laughter, eyes crinkling shut and nose scrunching. “I’m just fucking with you, love. Ease up, hm?”

“You asshole!” Y/N exhales grandly, half in relief and half in indignation, slugging him on the shoulder. All she feels is hard muscle beneath.

He continues to cackle, sticking his tongue out at her. “Looked like you were about to cry.”

“It definitely crossed my mind, yeah!”

The bartender arrives with their fresh drinks and Harry tells the man to but both of Y/N’s on his tab. She feels her cheeks glow, telling him he doesn’t have to, but he waves it off and says he’s more than happy to serve such a nice girl as herself. Especially if she “hates the same things I do. Think of it as your initiation gift into the Anti-Club Club.”

A handful of heartbeats tick by, full of comfortable quietness as they both savor their new beverages. Harry pipes up first, regaining their topic from before.

“But, yeah, Cali’s for sure a special place. You meet some cool people if you hang around for a while. But sometimes,” he pauses for a second, eyes gleaming with something she can’t quite interpret. “But sometimes you can meet a really interesting person in just one night.”

“I don’t doubt it.” Y/N clicks her nails against her Old Fashioned distractedly as Harry fixes her with that beautiful emerald gaze that makes her ears tingle. She cocks her head to the side knowingly, flashing him a soft smirk. “Sometimes, you just happen to meet that one in a million.”

“A lucky strike.” He adds, lifting his tequila an inch off the counter and tilting it towards her in what appears to be a toast, irises dancing with a certain type of suggestive mischief. “To meeting interesting people.”

The human girl clinks the rim of her lowball to the edge of his cup, shrugging her brows and reciting his comment back to him. “To meeting interesting people.”

Y/N measures how the rest of their interaction goes by how quickly her drink shrinks.

When she reaches down to the first ice cube stacked on top, Harry has managed to coax multiple rounds of laughter out of her, his humor startlingly similar to her’s in the most refreshing way imaginable. She quickly learns that despite his broad shoulders, lean torso, dark inking, and flawless features, he’s a complete and total dork. His personality consists mainly of voice impersonations and contorting his expression into an endless array of silly faces, which she takes to easily.

By the time Y/N’s amber drink has reached halfway down its container, the default touch barrier between the two has broken completely. There had been a few caresses prior, but now it’s more frequent, more noticeable, and each touch extends in time. She had been the one to initiate getting physical, which had sat so right in her stomach because that meant he was respectful and patient— definitely unlike most men in clubs.

The mortal girl had gently shoved Harry’s chest when he’d made an nonchalant joke about how losing his swim trunks at a nude beach had been both the best and worst experience of his life, her cheeks boiling as she had felt nothing but more toned muscle beneath the cotton fabric of his top. She had gone back to tracing at his tattoos the further they got into sharing anecdotes and opinions, glancing up at him for permission in the middle of their exchange and smiling to herself when he’d nodded casually without a second thought. As the conversations continue, they both unintentionally get closer in distance to the point where the arm Harry had settled on the bar is now fully wrapped around the small of her back. She willingly leans into him, their knees and thighs brushing with every shift of their bodies and those minute moments begin to pile up their excitement.

By the time the alcohol in her possession bottoms out, she is nearly sitting in his lap, faces only a few inches apart. Y/N can’t recall half of what she had said, the subject having steered into so many different places that she couldn’t be bothered to keep track. Besides, she’s too focused on trying to keep a straight face as Harry plays footsie with her below the counter, his light yellow sneaker toying with her heeled velvet wedge.

An important question on his behalf snaps Y/N out of her flirty stupor.

“So how do you like your new home?”

She blinks at him slowly, partially to try and give a seductive tinge to the interaction and partially because the liquor has started to truly settle in. It takes her a few heartbeats to process the inquiry. “I love it, actually. It’s a place of my own, for the first time ever. I couldn’t be happier.”

The corners of Harry’s swollen lips tick in genuine happiness on her behalf. “That sounds amazing. Congratulations on such a big step.”

“Thank you! What about yourself? Renting anything neat?”

“Oh, I own a condo here.” He mentions casually, outlining the criss-cross pattern along the circumference of his highball glass. “I used to visit so often that I finally just decided to pull the trigger on one.”

“Look at you, investing in real estate.” She says in a teasing voice, her heel grazing around his calf slowly, cheeks sizzling as he parts his legs a bit to allow her the pleasure of traveling higher up.

“Mmhm.” Harry licks his red lips, free hand starting to trace over her own. The tips of his fingers are calloused and cold, the motion of them over her skin almost pulling a tremble out of her body. She does her best to restrain it, not wanting to give him the satisfaction. “Is it nice?”

“Hm?”

His lips twitch in endearment at how he’s managing to make her lose her train of thought. “Your apartment, darling.”

She rests the rim of her drink on the bottom of her lip as she speaks. “It’s nothing huge or fancy, but it’s a decent size and l can call it home. Can’t get much better than that.”

Y/N loves how Harry's eyes flit to her lips for what she thinks is the billionth time tonight, his vision sketching along the curve of her cupid’s bow and dotting every peak.

Another warm glow of confidence spikes through her veins and she’s talking before she can analyze her thoughts. “Well, at least I think it can’t get much better than that. Although, I could just be biased. Could probably use an outside opinion.”

It takes Harry a moment to register what she’s suggesting, a light blush creeping up the base of his neck as he realizes how he’s stopped so abruptly. Humans usually never get him this unnerved and it’s one of many times she’s made it happen. “An outside opinion?”

Y/N lists her head to the side. It sounds like he’s accepting the vague invitation, but she’s so anxious to mess this up that she’s second guessing herself with every passing second. However, with every touch, she wants Harry more and more, and that’s enough to propel her towards a more direct approach. “Mmhm. Like yours, maybe. Would you like to come back and see it?”

Harry pauses for a few of her heartbeats, and then bobs his head in acceptance. She can breath again.

He finishes off the last inch or so of his tequila, a wicked grin creeping its way across his pretty, flushed mouth, long fingers carding into his loosely arranged curls. “I’m more than happy to be of service.”

A smile works its way onto Y/N’s own face at his response, her foot dropping back down his leg slowly. “I’m glad to hear.”

“Mm.” Harry takes her hand completely now and she almost moans at how much bigger his are, his rings pinching a bit, skin rough in some areas, but silky smooth in others. And strangely icy, but she enjoys it. “Shall we say goodbye to your friends first? I wouldn’t want them to worry about you.”

He knows her “friends” couldn’t care less, but he wants to be as much of a gentleman as possible. Romanticize, romanticize, romanticize.

Y/N snorts, knowing full well that they’d probably purposefully embarrass her in front of him as a joke.

She squeezes his grasp lightly, giving him a soft smile. “You’re sweet, but it’s fine. They were actually behind you earlier, encouraging this whole thing, so I’m pretty sure they won’t mind.”

Harry hums deep in the back of his throat and the sound melts into a cute chuckle. “I’m glad they helped, then. Think you can deliver them my thanks some other time?”

The young woman chews on the inside of her cheek at his comment, realizing that it suggests he aims on keeping her occupied for the rest of the night and well into the morning. She has to will herself not to lurch forward and kiss at his annoyingly perfect lips right then and there. “I’ll make sure to pass the message along.”

With one last cocky simper, Harry helps her down from the stool and pays off their tab, offering her his jacket since most of her outfit is made of flimsy fabrics. Y/N takes it appreciatively, lashes fluttering when his scent envelopes her like a blanket. It’s the unique smokiness from his cologne, mixed with a slightly sweeter smell that she assumes is his shampoo, and a bit of something that reminds her of a vanilla candle. The aromas are sewn into every thread of his coat and she can’t wait to have those scents glued all over her more deliberately later tonight.

Harry turns and plunges them into the throng of partiers, weeding through bodies with a type of determination that makes her insides twist. His arm comes up in front of him as he plows people out of the way with absolutely no regret, leaving her to throw out a few half-assed apologies in his wake. The idea that he’s excited to be alone with her has Y/N’s insides churning.

Once they escape all of the grinding limbs and tight spaces, stumbling into the cool air of the starry night, she takes a huge gulp of air. She prays it will tide over the jitters running along the inside of her tummy. She has just now realized how riled up he’d gotten her and it’s all coming to a raging boil.

Harry paces past the bouncer, throwing up two fingers in parting. “Later, Brock.”

The security guard gives the young vampire a confused look, not recognizing him at all and wondering how he knows his name.

Y/N repeats Harry’s phrase for the hell of it, squeezing his hand jestingly and he glimpses over his shoulder, grinning at her with sheer amusement and something much deeper swirling around the specks of copper in his irises. If there was a bit more light, perhaps she would have noticed the way his irises had glinted blood red instead of olive green.

She ogles at the way his back muscles shift and flex below his pastel blue shirt, her mind vaguely taking note of the light yellow detailings along the cuffs and collar. The tee is intriguing and fun and she hopes he’ll let her sleep in it after they’re done.

She also gets distracted by the baby curls decorating the nape of his neck. She’s itching to tug at them and see what his response would be. Would he shiver in her grasp and let out a soft moan, or would he smirk darkly and tell her to go harder?

Harry suddenly halts, snapping her out of her thoughts as he presents his car. Y/N’s jaw nearly falls off. “This is yours?!”

She gawks at the vintage jet black convertible before her, feeling like she isn’t worthy of its chic presence. It looks new, shining in the street lamps like a thousand diamonds, not a scratch or dent in sight.

Harry unlocks the passenger’s door, opening it and guiding her inside with a gentle pull at their clasped hands, shrugging his brows playfully. “Hope it’s not too shabby for your liking.”

“Are you kidding?” The human mumbles in awe as she ducks down into the patented leather seat, running her free hand over the elegant cover. She sighs softly at the way his smell is lingering inside the vehicle, just as much as it sticks to his clothes. “I feel like I should bow to it or something.”

He laughs fully now, leaning down to get a view of her sitting prim and proper in his favorite car, looking gorgeous in her flowy silk pants, lace creme blouse, and his own clothes. He gnaws at his bottom lip to withhold a needy groan. “I think you fit right in.”

Y/N feels warmth erupt into her face and she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, trying to distract her fingers from shaking. “Looks like I’m not the only one that’s good at stroking egos.”

“S’hardly a task. You make it easy, doll.”

It’s the second pet name he’s called her tonight— it’s strangely vintage, same as his car— and she can’t wait to hear what others he has in store. Preferably in the form of breathy pants and broken whines.

Y/N flicks her gaze up at him through heavy lashes, attempting to stifle a sheepish smile. “Quite the charmer.”

A moment of silence suspends in the air, a light breeze filtering through Harry’s curls, swaying the jewelry around his neck as well as the earring hanging from his lobe. Harry speaks up with a type of hushed desire she hadn’t heard from him yet. “Can I kiss you?”

She blinks up at him once in mild surprise and then releases a sigh of utter relief. “Fuck, I thought you’d never ask.”

Her hand reaches upwards outside the confines of the car, knitting into the thick fabric of his shirt and yanking him down. The second their mouths meet, it sets off a dozen fireworks in the pit of her stomach. His is softer than she had imagined, wet and warm, and his tongue carries the sourness of the tequila he’d been swishing the whole night.

Harry’s breath hitches in his throat, and then a quiet whimpery moan streams down his tongue onto her itchy skin. “Christ, that was hot.”

As much as she loves the taste of him— the tartness of the alcohol mixed with an inherent sweetness his lips carry— she forces herself to pull away, but keeps her sweaty forehead pressed to his. “Yeah. It was.”

With one hand still gripping the car door, Harry uses his other to cup her chin lightly, guiding her into another kiss. Now that they have both developed a feel for the other, this one is less tentative than the last. She tastes so fucking good on his tongue, like strawberry syrup—probably from her lipgloss— orange bitters, and bourbon. He just has to have more of it.

A helpless gasp escapes Y/N when Harry's teeth graze against her upper lip, only nipping enough that she craves more. More of anything he has to offer.

He pulls away and the whine that plucks her vocal chords feeds his eternal soul like nothing else has in a while.

The young man grins at her for a moment, half in smug satisfaction, half red-faced and desperate, before carefully closing the car door and making his way to the driver’s side. He slides in with ease, shuts his own door and buckles up with a click of the belt. The simple action has never looked so attractive before, but she’s certain that anything Harry does with his ring-covered hands would be attractive.

He fishes his keys from his front pocket, asking her where she lives in order to try and orient himself. As it turns out, she’s not too far away from his own flat. He knows exactly which condominium she’s referring to without having to even search it up— a perk of living here for a few decades.

He also chuckles to himself a bit at the fact that she hadn’t mentioned he shouldn’t drive under the influence. Vampires have an extremely high tolerance due to their self-healing properties, so the drinks he’d had only gave him a soft, warm buzz. He just finds it comical— and slightly arousing— that she’s so eager to get at him that she’d let that detail slip her mind.

Harry starts the car, but doesnt pull out of the parking spot. Instead, he glances at Y/N as a crease appears in his beautifully sculpted brows. The idea of something displeasing him bothers her, and she’s about to ask what it is when he murmurs a quick, “Just a second, dove.” He reaches across to grab her seatbelt, pulling it over her body and securing it into place on her behalf, making sure it’s nice and proper before leaning back in his seat. He doesn’t know why he cared to do it, but he had.

The simple action leaves another layer of heat on Y/N’s cheeks. Having him bent over her like that was just a teaser of what was going to unfold later and it already has her mind spinning. She can only imagine how much of a mess he’s going to leave her when there’s no clothes restraining them.

“Thanks.” She whispers, playing with the tips of her fingers.

“No need to thank me. Just wanna keep that pretty face in one piece.”

He plops one hand on the steering wheel as he shifts into reverse, carefully backing out of his spot. His arm ducks behind her seat, head turning and veins chiseling into his neck. It takes all of Y/N’s willpower not to lean up and begin to darken his tanned skin with hickeys.

Harry cruises up to the exit of the club parking lot, waiting impatiently for the turn signal, digits tapping away at the leather below them. Y/N can see him throwing pained little glances at her from her peripheral vision, obviously restless to feel her skin sliding against his. Each look causes the warmth between her thighs to swell.

She’s talking before she can stop herself, voice bashful and soft as ever, yet full of boldness from the liquor she’d consumed. “If you keep looking at me like that, I’m going to do something to you that’s gonna get us both killed.”

The tapping of his fingers halts and he cranes his head to face her fully, ignoring the flashing green arrow on the stoplight before them.

Harry reaches over the center console, his nose dragging up the length of her cheekbone, causing her to squeak out a tiny whimper at the feathery sensation. It’s the first time tonight he’s touched her so intimately.

The sentence he grits out next makes her entire body visibly shutter, his breath hot against her ear, damp lips smearing over her jaw as his oath burns into her flesh.

“And if you say something like that to me again, I promise you I’ll pull this car over and make you eat every fucking word.”

2K notes · View notes

rocorambles · 4 years ago

Text

Mending the Cracks

Pairing: Daishou x Reader

Genre/Warnings: NSFW, Choking, Spitting, DDLG, Degradation, Dirty Talk, Overstimulation

Summary: Daishuo prides himself on his cool and collected facade, his ability to not let anyone see past his polite and put together appearances unless he wishes them to. But Kuroo has always had a special talent for getting under his skin and now it’s your turn to help mend the cracks the messy haired captain has accidentally created.

Roco once again turns a request that should have been just a rough jealous angry spicy PWP fic into a whole angst/fluff/comfort fic WITH rough jealous angry spice~

Your heart sinks as the referee blows the whistle signifying the end of the game, pride and disappointment swirling in a confusing mixture inside of you as you rush to your feet, already making your way out of the stands and towards the locker rooms. It had been a good game, a great game, one Nohebi should be proud of regardless of the end result, that Daishou should be proud of. Yet, you know that’s the farthest thing from what any of the boys are thinking of as they dejectedly shake hands with Nekoma, another chance of Nationals taken right from underneath their noses, Daishou’s last chance of Nationals gone, just like that.

You should be paying more attention to your surroundings, especially in such a crowded building with masses of spectators and athletes, but you’re too focused on rushing to your boyfriend as fast as you can, barely dodging the crowds and receiving more than a few dirty looks from people you accidentally bump into in your haste. But it doesn’t matter. All that matters is comforting your lover, being there for him and reminding him that he’s still the most amazing person you know regardless of how one game went. And determinedly you quickly hook around the corner of the hall, only to yelp when you crash into something firm, the impact making you stagger back.

Mortification rushes through you once your body steadies itself and you fumble for words, stuttering out apologies when you realize what, or more specifically who, you’ve run into, practically diving to pick up the knee pads the other has dropped because of your carelessness. You can barely bring yourself to look up at the other person’s face, already cringing at the look of irritation you know you’ll receive (and frankly, deserve). But it’s the polite thing to do and your eyes slowly travel up and up a long, lean frame, only to blink in surprise when you see the amused smile on a handsome cat-like face as he plucks his knee pads from your hands.

He looks...familiar and you take a second to appraise him, eyes widening in shock when you recognize the Nekoma uniform and, emboldened by his lack of annoyance, you shyly smile, politely congratulate him on his team’s win and earning their ticket to Nationals.

You’re secretly glad your boyfriend is nowhere in sight, already knowing how childishly competitive he can get, especially where Nekoma is concerned. And you know he’d throw a fit if he saw you “consorting with the enemy”. But it’s the least you can do after running the poor guy over. Plus, Daishou really only has an issue with one person on the team and what are the chances that this athlete is…

“Oya? It’s not everyday someone decides to literally run me over. Nice to meet you. I’m Kuroo Tetsurou.”

Crap.

You pray to anyone who’s listening that Daishou doesn’t walk in on this scene, can only imagine how bad it would look to be caught chatting with Kuroo Tetsurou of all people only minutes after Nekoma had swiped Nohebi’s chances of Nationals away from them, even before you’ve talked to your own boyfriend.

But when it rains it pours and unknown to you, narrowed eyes scowl at the both of you from down the hallway.

If Daishou’s honest, the outcome of the match isn’t surprising. Nekoma has always been a stronger team than Nohebi, as aggravating as it is to admit. But it doesn’t make the loss any easier and he knows he’s just looking for a reason to pick a fight when annoyance curls inside of him at how quietly and respectfully Kuroo shakes his hand, not a hint of the other’s usual provoking or teasing after the match is over. He knows it’s out of sportsmanship, but he can’t help but believe he sees his own self-pity reflected in those feline eyes. And he storms out before he accidentally makes a scene, mustering every last bit of his snake-like charm to plaster a smile on his face and force out some pleasantries and kind words to his team, all the while wanting nothing more than to rush into your arms and lock himself away as he comes to terms with his dreams being dashed.

So imagine the stomach sinking shock he feels as he rounds the corner in his search of you, only to stare in disbelief as you smile up at literally the only person in this entire building who he’d rather you not ever meet, the person who led the team that had just crushed his team’s hopes, seemingly in no hurry to excuse yourself.

Shock makes way for hot fiery fury fueled by jealousy and insecurity and before he can fully register what he’s doing, he’s storming towards you, startling both of you when he suddenly cuts in between, rigid and stiff with hostility and anger as he shoves his face mere inches away from Kuroo’s surprised one.

It’s startling to say the least to have his view of you suddenly replaced by a larger figure and Kuroo instinctively steps back, uncertainty filling him when he sees heavy shadows of pure unadulterated ill-intent in Daishou’s eyes.

Interactions with the Nohebi captain are always playful, even if the stinging words aren’t always exactly lighthearted and Kuroo enjoys their bantering and rivalry underscored by respect for each other that both captains would die before admitting to. But this...this is different and Kuroo can’t help but think that somehow they’ve accidentally crossed the line to a point of no return, that something terrible is on the verge of happening, jaw instinctively tightening and fists clenching in self-defense.

“Winning wasn’t enough for you, so now you’re trying to rub more salt in my wounds by hitting on my girl?”

Oh. OH.

Kuroo KNEW you looked familiar, unsure where to place you, but it all makes sense as his brain quickly puts the pieces together, frantically working under pressure as the snake in front of him rattles his tail and hisses. You’re the new girlfriend he’s seen in all of Daishou’s social media posts recently. And suddenly it’s his turn to fumble over words as he tries to calm the furious athlete in front of him, desperately trying to find a way to de escalate the situation without having to resort to anything physical, trying to reassure the other captain that it’s not what it looks like, wincing at how cliche that phrase sounds.

You’re frozen as you watch the taller man continue stammering explanations, stunned by the feral aura radiating from your boyfriend, unsure what’s the best way to approach the situation without exacerbating the issue. But when you see Daishou take a step forward, your hands fly to the back of his jersey, harshly tugging at the fabric in a bid to drag him away from Kuroo, to keep him from doing something stupid that he’d regret.

You wonder if you did the right thing as you cower when he whirls around to face you, pinning you down with a practically murderous gaze. But then you see it, underneath the blazing fires of his eyes, the vulnerable insecurities he keeps so deeply hidden within him, that he’d shared about to you in full confidence, raring back to life and tearing him up inside.

Am I not good enough?

The question is unspoken, but you hear it clear as day and you want to scream at him, touch him, anything to wipe away the torment in his gaze. No, you're more than good enough. So much more. And despite the way you feel like a tiny mouse about to be swallowed whole, you easily let him drag you away, mindlessly following him and lacing your fingers with his bone crushing grip.

It's silent as you scramble to keep up with his determined pace, clutching at his arm and pressing against his side in quiet obedient comfort, a reminder that you're with him every step of the way, out of your own desire and love for him. And although his countenance remains stony, your heart swells when he instinctively leans into your touch, the dark fog around him lightening just a bit.

Not a word is said even as he locks his bedroom door behind the two of you, even as he pulls you onto his bed, wrapping his body tightly around you not unlike the creature he's nicknamed after.

And you let him, ignoring the discomfort you feel as he constricts your body too tightly to be comforting, murmuring how amazing he was on the court, what a respected captain he is, how you know there's still so many opportunities for him in life, volleyball, anything he wants even if Nationals wasn't his fate.

But when he remains silent, you nervously take a deep breath, knowing it's time to address the elephant in the room.

"Suguru, you know I love you, right? I only have eyes for you and no one else. Kuroo-"

You squeal in surprise when you're suddenly pinned to the bed by a toned body, gasping when a hand wraps around your throat rendering you silent, whimpering at the venomous look staring down at you.

"Don't say his fucking name, especially when you're in bed with me."

But you need to explain! Need to clear the air! And you desperately claw at his hand digging into your neck, struggling to force words out, only to moan when lips crash down on yours, a tongue slithering inside of your mouth and ravishing you, fangs harshly nipping at your lips in a warning to remain silent and pliant.

You pant for breath when he finally pulls away, trying to reach up and cradle his face in your hands, keep him still as you explain everything to him. But your efforts are futile and you moan when he promptly spits in your mouth the second you try to open your mouth to speak, body instinctively grinding against his when the hand on your throat tightens once again, mind busy trying to obediently keep his saliva in your mouth while simultaneously breathing through your constricted airway.

"Not a single word from you unless it's about me and how good I'm making you feel, understood? Swallow."

Daishou trained you well and you're quick to gulp down the pooled liquid in your mouth, baring your neck in submission as his lips and teeth possessively mark the expanse of your neck, sucking and biting marks you know you'll be proudly wearing for days afterwards, traveling down and down as your clothes are pulled off and haphazardly thrown away.

The room fills with breathy moans and sighs as you let him have you, let him mark every inch of you, relishing in the slight twinges of pain you feel when teeth sink in too deep, when lips suck too hard all over your collarbones, the valley between your breasts, your rib cage. But you wail when he deems you sufficiently marked, a hot wet mouth wrapping around one of your nipples, fingers harshly twisting and pulling the other.

"DADDY!"

Pride soars inside of Daishou at the nickname, a name he knows only he’s lucky enough to hear from your lips, and he pulls away from your aroused bud just long enough to spit out a few choice words.

“That’s right, baby girl. I’m your daddy. I’m the one who takes care of you. I’m the one who makes you feel good. So why the fuck did daddy find his precious girl chatting it up with some other man like a dirty little slut? Daddy not good enough for you anymore?”

Your head swirls from the degrading words, thighs clenching at hearing his endearing terms for you, but tears pricking at your eyes when you hear the trickle of doubt that seeps into his last question. Shame floods through you as you frantically shake your head, salty droplets leaking from your eyes as you begin to sob, desperately clutching Daishou’s sides and trying to pull him closer to you.

“No, Daddy! Never! Only you! You’re my only daddy. I love you. I’m sorry! I’m your good girl. Please let me show you that I’m your good girl?”

Daishou chuckles, warm fondness beginning to take off the frostiest edges of his insecurities as he watches you flail and fight against his hold in your pursuit of making him feel good, your greedy fingers trying to drag him closer to you, your hips grinding and humping his hardening cock like a bitch in heat as you babble and beg to ride him, suck him off, help him cum.

It’s heartwarming in the most depraved way how loyal and dedicated you are to him, how easily you’ll let yourself fall into debauchery just to please him. And in his heart of hearts, he knows deep down that you’d never betray him, that you love him just as much as he loves you. But the heart and the mind aren’t always on the same page and he can’t help the way his eyes narrow and his stomach twists uncomfortably when he replays the scene of Kuroo and you in the hall, even though he knows the chance of you being swept away so easily by someone else is close to null, even though he knows Kuroo is a decent enough man to back off once he knows you’re a taken woman.

“Settle down, little one. I know you’re a desperate slut for daddy, but today you’re going to behave, okay? You’re going to lay there, let daddy thoroughly remind you who you belong to, and thank me for it, understand?”

It’s a rhetorical question and you barely have time to nod your head before Daishou’s blunt cock head is pressing against your already drenched entrance. You claw at the bedsheets when he suddenly slams in balls deep inside of you, your sopping wet folds easily making way for his cock, and your toes curl at the abrupt stretch, eyes already shamelessly rolling to the back of your head from the sensation of finally being stuffed full.

“Daddy, so good, daddy, daddy, daddy” becomes your mantra, barely discernible amidst your wanton moans as he hardly gives you time to adjust before he’s starting up a brutal pace, hips slamming into yours, balls slapping your ass with every thrust. It’s embarrassing how close to the edge you already are, how you nearly came just from his cock stretching you full, but you can’t help it when Daishou knows your body even better than you, when your pussy is practically molded just for him, trained to be his perfect cock sleeve and you wail as you fall to pieces around his cock, body convulsing and mind shattering from the overwhelming pleasure.

But he doesn’t let up, continuing his relentless onslaught, smirking down at how broken you already look, drool and tears staining your wrecked face, incoherent babbling and wails slipping past your lips as overstimulation begins to wash over you, body now shaking uncontrollably as pain and pleasure swirl inside of you.

“That’s it, baby girl. You’re doing so well. Keep on taking it. Fucking take my cock! This is what you were made for. Being daddy’s cock slave that he fucks silly. Going to use you until you can’t even think about anyone or anything else other than daddy’s cock.”

There’s nowhere else he’d rather be than in between your legs and he swears he could die happy like this, cock buried deep within your tight pussy, would happily live the rest of his life bottomed out inside of you if he had the chance. But he’s only human after all and he can feel his end approaching, balls tightening and pace becoming wild and erratic when he hungrily devours the sight of your lewd state as you dopily smile, brokenly chanting “I’m daddy’s cock slave”, slurring thank yous over and over again. His hand reaches down to furiously rub your clit and all it takes is your second fall from grace, the sensation of your tight walls clamping and clenching around his cock, milking him of all his cum, to empty his balls inside of you.

It’s silent again save for both your shaky breaths as you come down from your respective highs and Daishou carefully slumps down to the side of you, pulling you to also lay on your side, wrapping you in his arms as your lower bodies remain connected, hooking his chin on top of your head and letting you burrow into his neck and cuddle up beside him.

But despite all his earlier bravado, you can feel his scales shift and skin shed as he reveals his softer, more vulnerable side, can feel him slump and his defenses crumble in the way he clings onto you, and you wriggle out of your comfortable position, ignoring the throbbing between your legs and all over you body as you determinedly reposition yourself until the two of you are face to face, forehead and noses pressed against each other.

“Suguru, I love you. I love you so much. You’ll always be more than enough for me.”

You smile at the love and hope you see reciprocated back at you in your lover’s eyes, giggling when it’s quickly replaced by panic and embarrassment as he holds you at arms length, staring in dismay at all the punishing marks he had left all over your body before frantically nearly crushing you as he pulls you tightly back towards him, apologies spilling from his mouth for being so rough, a stupid stereotypically jealous boyfriend. And you roll your eyes as he suddenly starts raving and ranting about how this is somehow all Kuroo’s fault, shutting him up with a forceful kiss of your own, a playful smirk sitting on your face.

“You told me not to mention his name and yet here you are, going on and on about him right after we’ve had sex. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you’re a little more interested in him than two rival captains should be. Should I be the jealous one?”

You bite back a laugh at the look of pure disgust on Daishou’s face as he stares agape at you, jaw slack and open wide in disbelief at your blasphemous lies, using whatever latent talent you have as an actor to tap a finger to your lips in a parody of an inquisitive thoughtful gesture.

“I’m pretty open minded, Suguru. We can invite him for a threesome if you want. Ooh! Who do you think would top? Kuroo? You’d look so pretty on bottom for once, don’t you think? Or would you prefer to shut him up-”

You squeal in laughter and surprise when you’re suddenly being suffocated and crushed by a heavy weight on top of you, Daishou flipping the two of you over and laying his whole weight on top of you, shoving your face into his chest and grunting at you to shut up as he nuzzles his face into the top of your head and closes his eyes to rest, dragging you to an exhausted slumber with him as his breathing even outs and lulls your own heavy eyelids into shutting.

Somewhere else in Tokyo Kuroo sneezes out of the blue, curiously wondering if someone is talking about him.

#haikyuu smut #daishou x reader #daishou smut #haikyuu!!#haikyuu #haikyuu fic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu scenarios #daishou #Daishou Suguru #haikyuu x reader

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thebonerpit · 4 years ago

Text

cheerleader [FIC]

cheerleader

Rom Howney, 3896 words, [E], read on Ao3 here

A very seasonally appropriate fic in which Robert throws a Halloween party. Tom hates Halloween but decides to wear a costume he's wanted to try for years.

“I just don’t understand it.”

Tom frowns as he stares at the racks upon racks of zombies, clowns, vampires, and sexy nurses in front of him.

“I mean, to be fair, you don’t understand much of anything, do you mate?”

“Fuck off,” Tom says, whacking Harrison on the arm. “But seriously! Why do Americans go so absolutely mental for this stupid holiday?”

“Again, having trouble with the fact that you, an actor, who plays dress-up FOR A LIVING, doesn’t understand this. It’s not like this is any weirder than a fancy dress party. Plus, you get candy!”

Ok, he does have a point there.

Tom lets out a deep sigh. He wouldn’t even be bothering with all this if it weren’t for Robert. An invitation appeared in his inbox last week for a Halloween party, and when you’re invited to a Halloween party at Robert Downey Jr.’s house, you don’t turn it down. Even if Halloween is incredibly stupid. He shuffles along through the rows of costumes, rolling his eyes at werewolf masks and inflatable dinosaurs.

“This is ridiculous,” he mutters. Harrison groans, his hands already full of the various parts of a Mad Hatter costume.

“Just pick something, who cares?!”

“There’s too many options!”

“Ok, look. Halloween is the chance to dress any way you want to and have no one judge you for it. Just think about that. What have you always wanted to be?”

Tom immediately knows what the answer is, but instead of replying he just huffs and turns down another aisle that’s covered in fairy wings and glitter. He can’t possibly do it. Especially not for this party. For Robert’s party. It would be… inappropriate. He rounds the corner again and is faced with a shockingly huge assortment of superhero costumes. A foam version of Thor’s hammer sits on the shelf to his right, and he smirks as he picks it up and gives it a good twirl.

“In your face, Hemsworth,” he mutters quietly.

There’s a whole row of different Spider-Man costumes which makes him smile, especially when he sees a flimsy synthetic fabric version of the Iron Spider suit. And right next to that – a placement that thrills him even more than the suit alone - are the Iron Man costumes. Plastic faceplates, arc reactor gloves with LED lights, fabric onesies with fake, puffy muscles sewn in… it’s all there. Tom runs a finger along the edge of the faceplate before snatching his hand away like he’s been burned.

It’s all he can think about, even as they leave the store after Harrison buys his costume and Tom walks out empty-handed. He thinks about it on the ride home and through dinner until he finally makes excuses and runs off to hide in his room, laptop in hand, and puts on Iron Man 2. It doesn’t take long to get to the scene he wants. Tony Stark, diving through fireworks, landing on a flashy stage, surrounded by his Ironettes. Tom bites his lip as he stares intently at the bright red booty shorts, the long gloves, the crop tops… maybe, if he altered it just a bit, if he wore the mask… He can already feel his face heating up at the prospect of walking into Robert’s house dressed like that. Would he laugh? Would he be weirded out? Or… would he like it? Tom pushes the laptop off to the side and lets the movie play as he touches himself, coming to the sound of Robert’s voice in his headphones.

* * * * *

Tom is going to throw up. It’s inevitable, at this point. He’s in the back of a car squished between Harry and Harrison and he’s going to throw up. His stomach is in knots and he can’t remember ever being this nervous in his life. He’s used to the fluttering before a big stage performance or audition, but those nerves are more like excitement. This is sheer terror and he is going to THROW UP.

“Can you calm down? Jesus, you’re going to ruin my costume if you don’t stop squirming!” Harrison jabs a sharp elbow into his side and Tom jerks away into Harry who pushes him back.

“I just… I need some air.”

“The windows are all open! Take the mask off!”

That is the absolute last thing he wants to do. He was only able to leave the house in this costume with the mask securely over his face and he doesn’t know if he’ll ever be able to take it off. He must be red as a tomato.

“Look, we’re here!” Harry crows. The car finally comes to a stop and they all pile out. Tom wants to collapse on the soft grass but he’s pulled along by four strong hands.

“Maybe I should… Look, I’ll just wait out here for a bit, ok? I just need—”

“Nope, absolutely not. Look mate, we already told you, he’s going to love it. Maybe not in the way you want him to-“ Tom punches Harry in the arm for that “-BUT, regardless, he’ll love it. You look great. And this is coming from someone who never turns down an opportunity to tell you you’re an ugly twat.”

“That was… almost sweet,” Tom says, and then yelps as they both drag him inside.

The party is in full swing and is absolutely packed with people. Small groups are standing around chatting, all in costume, and a live band is playing in the huge backyard to a crowded dancefloor. Tom recognizes only a few people – it’s hard to miss Scarlett even when she’s dressed like Morticia Addams – but that doesn’t bother him. Normally he loves mingling and meeting new people, and even dressed as he is it’s still exciting. It’s even easier after he quickly downs a few strong drinks, careful to only pull up the mask as far as it needs to go. The urge to vomit has pretty much dissipated and he’s actually beginning to enjoy himself, twirling around the dancefloor like a maniac until he’s slightly sweaty and out of breath.

“Water break!” he yells to Harry and squeezes through the crowd of people to get some air and hydrate. He finds a relatively quiet corner where he can chug half a water bottle in peace and is enjoying the cool air on his skin when someone taps him on the shoulder. He startles and nearly drops the bottle but manages to save it before turning around.

“Nice catch.”

Oh fuck. It’s him. It’s Robert. He hasn’t seen him the whole evening and assumed he was off being a good host so the whole thing almost slipped his mind, but now it’s all rushing back and he has to grip on to the fence post beside him to steady himself.

“Love the costume. Not exactly how I remember the Ironettes looking but I gotta say, this might be an improvement.”

Tom nearly chokes. He decided he couldn’t pull off the real Ironette costume as the distinct lack of breasts made it look a little awkward. So, he improvised. The shiny red and gold booty shorts stayed, of course. They made his ass look incredible. He bought the long red and gold arc reactor gloves and the plastic faceplate from the Halloween store, and instead of heeled boots he found a pair of gold high-tops and knee-high red socks. The shirt was the most difficult part, though. He went through a few variations before settling on something cute and comfortable: a red, cropped tank top. It was a bit loose and thin, so it flowed around his chest nicely and was short enough to show off his abs and his tiny waist. He also managed to find an LED necklace to serve as his arc reactor. It glowed a soft blue through the thin fabric of the shirt. Overall, he’s incredibly proud of what he came up with. Especially for someone who hates Halloween.

And now, with the way Robert is staring at him, he’s VERY happy he was brave enough to wear it.

“Is there someone under that gorgeous mask? Or are you too shy to say hello?”

Tom steels himself, takes a deep breath, and pulls the mask off.

Robert’s face goes through a myriad of emotions almost all at once. Shock, delight, amusement, and what is unmistakably arousal.

“Well. Tom Holland. As I live and breathe.” His voice is lower than before, more intimate, and when he takes a step forward Tom swears he feels the temperature go up by at least two degrees. He also notices that Robert is wearing eyeliner. The black kohl makes his eyes look even more gorgeous, and then there’s the red glitter dusted across his cheeks and around his hairline that is giving him an almost eerie glow.

“What are you supposed to be, then?” Tom asks. Robert smirks and points to the two small horns sticking out from his hair.

“The Devil, of course.”

“Of course,” Tom repeats weakly. It was barely a costume, the deep maroon suit looking more like red carpet attire than anything else, but fuck it looked incredible on him.

“I am the purveyor of sin on this fine evening,” he says, gesturing to the party, “so I thought I’d play the part. But you… you look far more sinful than me.”

Tom squeaks as Robert steps even closer and taps at the arc reactor on his chest.

“Cute,” he murmurs.

“Just… just wanted to show you how much of a fan I am… Mr. Stark.”

Robert’s eyes snap up to Tom’s and he doesn’t think he’s ever been looked at so intensely in his entire life.

“Is that so… Mr. Parker?”

Tom whines, loud enough for Robert to hear it. His hand travels down Tom’s body to squeeze at the bare skin of his waist.

“I think—”

“Robert!!”

They both jerk back as if they’re waking up from a trance. Someone is yelling for Robert and waving him inside, and he acknowledges them with a quick gesture. Turning back to Tom, he licks his lips and leans in to whisper in his ear.

“I think we’ll have to continue this later. Don’t leave without saying goodnight. Alright?”

“Yeah. Yes. O-ok. See you later,” Tom stutters, and when Robert disappears inside he chugs the rest of the water bottle and collapses back against the fence to catch his breath.

* * * * *

All the telltale signs of a party winding down are there. Most people have left, the band has stopped playing leaving only some low background music emanating from the speakers around the house, and the guests that remain are splayed out on various couches and chairs, half their costumes missing and happily drunk. The kitchen is a disaster and Tom feels bad adding more bottles to the mess, but he’s on a mission and can’t stop to tidy. After his run-in with Robert he only saw him briefly a few more times, mostly through a massive crowd, but he didn’t forget his words from earlier.

Don’t leave without saying goodnight.

Harrison and Harry have already gone home. They tried to get him to come with but Tom pretended to be enthralled in a conversation and told them he’d catch up in a bit. Now he’s wandering the massive house, peeking into various rooms as he looks for Robert. He gave up on wearing the mask after they met in the yard so it’s pushed up on his head like some sort of strange visor, his curls a sweaty mess beneath it. The second floor is quiet and empty; no one really came up here during the party anyway so it’s also much cleaner. A set of closed double doors is in front of him, and it’s the only place he hasn’t looked, so…

Tom slowly opens one door and pokes his head inside. Robert is lounging on a massive bed, scrolling on an iPad, glasses perched on his nose. He’s still got the horns on his head, and when he glances up over the rim of his glasses to smirk at Tom, he really does look positively devilish.

“Found you,” Tom says, trying to appear completely casual when his heart feels like it’s about to explode from under his ribcage.

“So you did. Come in. Close the door.”

Robert makes no effort to move so Tom slowly walks over to the bed, suddenly very conscious of how tight his shorts are as Robert unabashedly roams over his body with hungry eyes. He stops at the edge and toes at the plush carpet with one foot.

“Have you been drinking?”

Tom nods.

“How much?”

“Not that much,” Tom replies, understanding what Robert is trying to ask. “But maybe just enough to give me some liquid courage.”

Robert raises an eyebrow but waits patiently for Tom to make the first move, only shifting slightly to drop the iPad and his glasses on the nightstand. Guess it’s now or never.

He kneels on the edge of the bed with one leg first, testing the waters. Robert stays perfectly still. A deep inhale to steady himself and then Tom goes for it, pushing up on the bed and straddling Robert’s lap. He hesitates for only a moment before settling right on the seam of those expensive maroon trousers.

A pleased hum rumbles out of Robert’s chest as he runs two smooth, warm hands up Tom’s spread thighs to his waist.

“My own personal cheerleader, hm? I always knew you looked up to me but I never expected this… Pete.”

He catches Tom’s eye and gives him a brief wink. Tom’s heart speeds up even more as excitement bubbles in his stomach. Playing. Robert is playing with him. He was desperately hoping he wouldn’t drop this, leave it as the brief tease it was back in the yard. Acting with Robert is one of his favourite things in the entire world, and being able to do it like this? God, for the first time he’s actually happy that Tony Stark is dead because he’s never going to be able to act across from him again without thinking of this moment.

Robert nuzzles into his neck and starts leaving wet, sucking kisses all along the line of his throat. Tom shivers at the sensation and then starts to giggle when the tickle of Robert’s beard is too much against his sensitive skin. Robert laughs into his neck and nips playfully.

“You’re so darn cute,” he whispers. Robert has always been free with his compliments, telling Tom he’s handsome or pretty or talented, but somehow it just hits different when his hands are also squeezing Tom’s ass.

“Want to touch you, Mr. Stark,” Tom murmurs into his ear, easily switching his accent to sound even more like Peter. He feels Robert shudder underneath him and can’t help the pleased smirk that crosses his face.

“Yeah?” Robert says, grasping his chin gently so he can look into his eyes. “Do you even know what you’re doing, sweetheart?”

Tom absolutely knows what he’s doing, but Peter…

“I… uh… I was hoping you could teach me. I’m a really quick learner, sir,” he says softly.

“Jesus fucking christ,” Robert mutters, breaking character for a moment. He collects himself quickly though, shifting Tom in his lap just enough so he can undo his trousers and pull himself out. Tom’s mouth literally waters at the sight of Robert’s dick and he uses every ounce of willpower not to just pounce on him immediately.

“Want to feel your mouth, Pete,” Robert says, rubbing a thumb along Tom’s lower lip. “You can go slow. Use your tongue.”

“Yes, Mr. Stark,” Tom replies, trying not to sound too eager. He shuffles down a little and purposely sticks his ass up in the air. The red and gold shimmer on the shorts catches the dim light and he gives his hips a quick wiggle when he sees Robert staring.

“Maybe I should’ve reworked the design on your suit, hm? You like wearing little shorts like this?”

Tom nods and presses his face into the curls at the base of Robert’s dick, inhaling the scent of him. He feels the thick cock jerk against his cheek and angles his head to lick up the whole length of it, swirling his tongue at the tip. The bitter taste of precome blooms in his mouth and he moans, forgetting himself for a moment as he starts to give a much more experienced blowjob than what Peter would be capable of. Robert knocks the mask off Tom’s head so he can tighten his hand in his messy curls.

“Jesus,” Robert groans, “you’re good at this, kid.”

“Mmm, just want to make you feel good, sir,” Tom hums. He manages to remove one of the arc reactor gloves so he can grip Robert’s cock while he uses his mouth everywhere he can reach.

“Well, you’re doing a—fuck, god—a damn fine job.”

Tom thinks he could stay here forever, on his knees, mouth stretched almost painfully around Robert’s cock. He explores up his chest with his other hand, rubbing at one nipple with his thumb which makes Robert jerk underneath him.

“Keep doing that,” Robert spits out as he pushes Tom’s head down even further. He gags a bit but the incredible sensation of being stuffed and used overrides everything else and he takes every inch Robert gives him while tugging and pinching at his apparently very sensitive nipples. He drifts for a bit, so content and fuzzy, and only comes back when Robert pulls him off and throws him down on the bed.

“Pull up that shirt for me, sweetheart. Gonna paint your pretty chest with my come.”

“Oh my god, fuck, yes, please, please, want it,” Tom moans, shoving the fabric out of the way as Robert jerks himself off quickly above him. He can’t decide whether to watch his dick or his face when he finally comes, thick and white all over his chest and the arc reactor necklace. Robert’s slightly red in the face and gasping for breath as he steadies himself with a hand beside Tom’s head. Tom leans to the side to kiss at his knuckles and then dares to run his fingers through the come on the necklace and bring it to his mouth to taste.

“You’re going to give an old man a heart attack,” Robert says. His pupils are all blown out as he watches Tom hollow his cheeks as he sucks. Tom understands the feeling. He’s so hard in his shorts that it’s painful.

“Please,” he whispers, biting his lip, “will you touch me, Mr. Stark?”

“It would be a pleasure, Mr. Parker,” he replies. He palms him over the shorts which makes Tom buck into his hand. “As much as I love these… they have to go.”

The shorts are so tight that they both struggle to pull them down but finally they’re tossed off to a distant corner of the bedroom and Tom hisses as Robert immediately get his mouth on his cock. It feels absolutely heavenly, especially after being trapped in the confines of that uncomfortable fabric for so long. Robert takes his time, licks and sucks everywhere he can, all the way down to that sensitive spot right behind his balls. Tom whimpers as his tongue gets so fucking close to his hole but then pulls away.

“Want to use my fingers… s’that ok?”

“Y-yeah, please, yes!”

Robert grabs some lube from the nightstand and even warms it first before sliding one thick finger over Tom’s hole, pressing just the tip inside. Aside from the thrill of having Robert’s finger inside of him, the most incredible part is that he doesn’t stop sucking him off. The level of coordination is astounding and Tom would have complimented him on it if he was able to speak beyond moans and pleas for more. A second finger quickly joins the first and Tom’s body accepts it without hesitation.

“Good boy,” Robert murmurs in between gentle licks, “look at you, hm? So pretty and pink.”

Robert shifts him down a bit more which makes his legs fall open even wider. He feels so exposed and whines a little, trying to draw his knees close without squeezing Robert too much.

“Aw, don’t be shy sweetheart, you’re gorgeous,” Robert says. “You can put your legs up on me if that helps, ok?”

He hears the rubber of his high-tops squeak against Robert’s skin and somehow the sound is more obscene than anything else. He tries not to thump his heels too hard but fuck, Robert is doing something with his tongue that should be illegal and Tom can’t stop squirming. A low chuckle reverberates against his stomach as Robert pulls off briefly, his fingers still working in slow, gentle pushes.

“Aren’t you sensitive, hm?”

“P-please, Ro—Mr. Stark, please, need to come,” Tom begs, accent slipping slightly as he tries to shove himself down even deeper on Robert’s thick fingers. He’s held in place by the firm grip of Robert’s other hand on his waist and he whines petulantly.

“Anything for my favourite little spider,” Robert coos. He crooks his fingers and Tom arches up off the bed like he’s been shocked. He feels like he’s been on the edge since they first met in the yard and now Robert’s fingers are pressing right on his prostate and his hot mouth is back on his dick and he doesn’t think he could possibly hold off any longer if he tried.

“Gonna… gonna…” Tom’s whole body is taut, like a wire ready to snap, and when Robert takes him all the way down his throat he comes with a ragged gasp. Distantly he thinks he should be considerate and pull out but it’s like his body isn’t under his control anymore, and even though he hears wet choking noises it seems like Robert is just fine with him coming in his mouth. His fingers have stopped moving and he lets Tom clench around them for a few moments before gently sliding them out. Tom whines at the loss even though he’s so oversensitive right now he couldn’t possibly take anymore.

After taking a minute to catch his breath and regain any semblance of normal brain function, he finally looks down. Robert’s eyeliner is smudged and Tom feels a bizarre sense of pride about it. He can’t stop running his fingers through his salt and pepper hair which is also a complete mess.

“Just FYI,” Robert finally says, his voice a little raspy, “you’re going to be finding red glitter in every nook and cranny for about three years after this.” He punctuates that sentence by rubbing his cheek against Tom’s thigh, grinning as he does it.

“You’re a dick,” Tom says fondly, giggling even more as Robert continues to just rub his face all over his body. “But can’t say I’m gonna care that much if I’m being reminded about this.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah.”

“Well,” Robert says, that absolutely devilish grin returning, “I can give you more than just glitter for that.” Tom squeals as he starts sucking a deep bruise into the inside of one thigh, teeth marks and all, that Tom presses on every time he sees it for the next week.

#tbpwrites #rom howney #marvel rpf #nff #please do not expect this kind of consistency from me normally lol #usually it takes months in between fics!#but the fandom has been so lovely and active lately that it's inspired me #maybe i'll write some actual starker at some point and not just rpf

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6sakusa · 4 years ago

Note

Hi! Can I please make a request for Konoha?? Can it be super angsty where y/n is a second year and have been a Fukurodani manager since first year and he’s had a crush on them since they first showed up. Him and y/n are super close but he knows Akaashi or someone else on the team. He constantly puts their feelings above his own, listening to them ramble about their crush to him even tho it hurts him because he’s scared of rejection. One day he tells y/n to confess and they get rejected and he has to comfort them. The ending is up to you, angst or fluff. (Also can you make y/n super short like 4’9??? Oh and any pronouns are fine it doesn’t have to be gender neutral)

‘lost’ konoha akinori ft akaashi keiji.

a/n : so i kinda put my own twist on this, i hope that’s okay! if you like please support by reblogging and liking.

warnings : angst, love triangle, mild swearing, me not proof reading.

“you’re still going on about that short stack?” konoha grinned as you gushed over akaashi, of course deep down it stung. everytime he had made you smile the silver haired boy swore he could feel his heart breaking but for you, his bestfriend, of course he would put on a brave face.

besides, it was inevitable that the two of you would meet the second you had taken on the role as fukurodani’s manager in first year. konoha slightly regrets pushing you to take on the position, he had thought it would allow the two of you to spend more time together but instead it practically secured your position in akaashi’s arms.

what made things worse is he could never bring himself to hate the setter, he was an amazing friend and teammate, he was smart, handsome and funny, it was definitely understandable why you were so infatuated with him. regardless, akaashi had never even known about his crush on you so it wasn’t even like he was violating the bro code or anything.

“it’s hard to stop when he looks that good.” you leaned back slightly on your chair, you and konoha were at the back of the classroom observing the scene in front of you which was quite literally akaashi being perfect, as usual.

“you really like him huh?” he turned to you raising an eyebrow. he hated the way he had to sound so encouraging as if he ever wanted you to be with someone else. it was something he almost couldn’t stand to see but you deserved to be happy and what kind of bestfriend would he be if he stood in the way of that. “have you been head over heels for him this entire year?” amusement was laced in his voice now, but he wasn’t laughing, none of this was even slightly funny.

“no uhh, i liked someone before but i don’t think he liked me back.” you chuckled awkwardly missing the way konoha scowled.

great, he thought. not only did you like one boy but two and neither of them were him.

wrong — he’s wrong but he doesn’t know that, he doesn’t know how it was him that you liked. but he was your bestfriend. how could you put him in such a position where he probably didn’t want to be in. if he liked you he would’ve obviously said it by now right? there was no way you would risk your friendship with him, the single most important person in the world. it hurt back then but you had to bury those feelings. akaashi always seemed to be there to help with that.

“he didn’t like you back? what an idiot.” konoha snickered. little did they know, you both thought.

“well the past is the past right? why don’t you confess to akaashi? you’ve been talking about him for quite a while now.” as the words tumbled out of his mouth he felt sick to his stomach, but he needed to see you happy, he had to. your wellbeing was far more important than his, if akaashi could make you smile then that’s all he needed to know he was telling you the right thing.

oh.. you were right about konoha not liking you back, you thought. otherwise why would he push you to confess to akaashi. you were being dumb, seriously dumb. this was embarrassing .. did you seriously think all this gushing over akaashi would make your bestfriend realise his feelings for you? that’s right, he doesn’t have feelings for you. otherwise why was he pushing you in the arms of another man.

anyways maybe he was right, maybe you should march up to akaashi instead, he was a great guy and he was sure to treat you right.

“right now?” you cocked your eyebrow, your face whipping to face your bestfriend as your cheeks flushed in nervousness.

“might as well, go on.” he bit back the longing feeling to tell you how much he loved you since the two of you had first met, how he never wanted to see you with akaashi, how he wanted you in his arms more than anything. he was a coward, one who was afraid of ruining your friendship, and he hated himself for it.

“wish me luck.” you took a deep breath before approaching the setter, your bestfriend behind you watching eagle-eyed.

“akaashi?” he looked up at the sound of his name, a smile etching onto his lips the moment he realised it was you. suddenly, you had his full and undivided attention which was not an easy feet to achieve. it was clear to anyone who had two pairs of eyes how much akaashi favoured you, the only other people he really held to the same standard of friendship was his teammates.

“y/n, don’t tell me you didn’t do the homework again.” he chuckled as he pulled out a seat for you to sit on. “what a gentleman.” konoha muttered seeing the twinkle in your expression at his simple action.

“no i— i want to tell you something.” you fiddled with your fingers, you weren’t usually this shy. in fact with akaashi you almost never were. in all honesty in the time you had known him you had been quite snarky, not to say he didn’t like it. maybe that was one of the reasons he had found you so entertaining. many times the setter could be quiet himself, it was always fun having someone different around. much like him and bokuto.

so when your expression changed and your body language shifted awkwardly he definitely picked up on it. especially the way you refused to make eye contact.

“is something wrong? you know y/n if you’ve gotten yourself in any kind of trouble i’m here to help.” he brought your hands in his searching for any clue of your next words in your eyes.

“that’s not it— it’s just that.. akaashi, i like you. and not just as friends but in a romantic way.” you were talking so fast that if he wasn’t listening so attentively he would’ve missed half the words you were saying.

at your confession his eyes shifted to konoha for a split second at the back of the classroom. it was so quick that the silver hair boy hadn’t even realised but keiji had caught the expression on his face. the one of heartbreak and longing. to him, it was obvious how much the two of you liked eachother so he was almost taken aback by this entire ordeal. and why was konoha just watching? why wasn’t he stopping you? to make matters even worse akaashi had feelings for you too, so.. what would his next move be?

“y/n... i’m sorry but i don’t think i can maintain a relationship right now, you know with volleyball and classes it’s ju—“

“it’s okay akaashi.” you cut him off quickly not wanting to hear the next words and feel them sting your chest. “you don’t have to explain yourself.. i— i’m sorry.” you stood up leaving the classroom calmly. no one would even be able to tell that anything was wrong, except your bestfriend of course who was watching with a whole new anger flearing up inside him. of course he couldn’t force akaashi to like you back but the fact that he had pushed you to confess which just resulted in you getting your heart trampled on really made him want to.

“what the hell man?” konoha marched up to him, his hands coming down onto the table with a firm grip. “why did you reject her? it’s obvious that you like her.” he grit his teeth searching the setters face for any remorse.

“you don’t understand.” akaashi’s expression remained the same as usual and it was grinding konoha’s gears. couldn’t he see what he was doing to you?

“there’s nothing to understand—“ he was cut off by keiji’s stoic tone. “she’s your bestfriend right? you should go after her.” he sighed closing his textbook as he moved to walk away.

“don’t say it like that man, don’t pretend she’s not your friend too, doesn’t she matter to you?” konoha grabbed onto the setters sleeve stopping him from leaving.

akaashi can admit, he was shocked by this action, it was obvious how much he liked you but was he really prepared to start a fight over it, much less with his own friend? he was right when he said that konoha didn’t understand. he was right when he said that he liked you but akaashi couldn’t help but think about how selfish it was for him to have you all to himself while your bestfriend loved you. and as much as you pretended you didn’t you loved him back.

“it’s raining outside and she’s going to get a cold if she goes out there, so go after her.” he brushed your bestfriends hand away with a scoff. maybe one day the both of you would get it.

konoha let go turning to the doors which led into the outdoor school courtyard. raining was an understatement. it was pouring right now and he couldn’t help but wonder how you were bearing out here with your school skirt and knee high socks.

“y/n..” he spotted you, head held low in shame, sitting on a bench under the foul weather as if there was nothing but sunshine in the desolate sky. “i didn’t know that would happen-“

“i don’t wanna talk right now.” you sighed bringing yourself to face him.

“i know but you can’t stay out here.” he moved closer allowing himself to drape his jacket over your shoulders. it wouldn’t do much help since you were already drenched but he couldn’t stand the sight of you wallowing in pity. plus whether you cared to acknowledge it or not it was pretty cosy, well it should be considering it was a few sizes too big for you.

first konoha, now akaashi.. you ought to stop falling for guys who don’t share the same feelings you do about them. something about this rejection hurt more than you had expected it too. maybe it’s because you felt the rejection of both of them in akaashi’s words. the realisation that not only one, but two dont like you back. you had never had that heart wrenching moment with konoha but now here it was, even if it wasn’t his words it all hurt the same.

double heartbreak huh? how tragic.

but you could be better than this, you could get over them both.. granted you would need a some time. seeing them during practice all the time probably wouldn’t help but you could power through if you wanted to. there was no point sitting here crying on a bench when the only person here to comfort you was one of the reasons you were hurting so bad.

“i don’t want this.” you slipped off his jacket handing it back to him. “i’m sick of feeling like this i just— i really thought — i don’t even know.. i’m an idiot.” you chuckled bitterly.

“what are you saying? you’re not an idi-“

“i’m sorry konoha but i think — i think i want some time alone.” your words came out shaky and uneven, it was getting harder and harder to keep your composure and even he was noticing it.

“time alone? you’re not in your right mind how long would you even want to be alone for..” he said while trying to shove his jacket back over you but you pulled away every time. he doesn’t even know the affect he has on you huh.. he’s just trying to be a good friend. nothing more. nothing less.

“permanently.” you finally stood, this time you would choose yourself.

and there he stood unmoving, konoha with the most broken expression on his face, if it wasn’t for the rain you would’ve maybe noticed the tear that escaped his eyes. he could barely process the word you had just said as you walked away slowly while he stood there, frozen. he wanted nothing more than to call out to you but his voice was nonexistent, it felt like his windpipe was closing in on him, without you he couldn’t breathe.

while all you could think was of course he didn’t come after me, he doesn’t care that much.. just a friend nothing more nothing less.

when he finally regained his senses the most he could do was fall back onto the bench you once sat on. akaashi that idiot, how could he not see what was right in front of him.. the perfect girl. he gritted his teeth at the thought. akaashi was an idiot.

meanwhile he didn’t notice the setter staring at the whole ordeal through the window proclaiming the same thing about him. why didn’t he just confess his feelings? how could he be so stupid.

and you, so blind to the truth had just cut off the two people who considered your feelings the most.. who was the biggest fool? it was impossible to decide.

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dean-winchesters-gardian-angel · 4 years ago

Text

The Same Bed - Chapter 3

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Summary: Friends are there to help each other out, but can they help falling for each other when all the long days they spend together turn into late nights they have and their reliance on each other.

Word count: 2675

Warnings: Fluff, angst, slow burn.

A/N: This is probably my favourite chapter so I hope you like it. Read it, enjoy it and I’ll see you on the other side. There’s also a tag list, so be sure to tell me if you want in, as well as a masterlist so be sure to give that a look if your short and content. Like the rest, unbeta’d all mistakes are mine.

Series masterlist

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Sam was jolted from his restful position at his laptop by the bang on the door followed by giggling. A man and a woman. The door swung open revealing Y/N accompanied closely by Dean, both holding grocery bags, as they rushed down the stairs.

“Nuh-uh! I have the snack you have to go put groceries away in the fridge! Hey Sam!” Y/N chucked, carelessly tossing him the cashews the youngest of the brothers had requested. Sam sat as he watched the scene before him play out.

“No fair! You always pick crappy romance movies! At least my picks are bearable!” Sam was stunned in place after catching his nuts. Unused to seeing his brother and best friend in such a cheerful mood, considering the possibility of a curse.

“What is going on here?” Y/N answers his question in a rushed, out of breath yell.

“Dean wanted to pick the movie but he picked last time and I was smart enough to grab the snack bag instead of the groceries, so I didn’t have to go to the kitchen and miss my chance at picking the movie!” She ran down the hall holding the ‘e’ and the end of ‘movie’. A moment later Dean came out of the kitchen holding two plates with pie on them.

“She cheated. She shoved me over before she unlocked the trunk leaving me with —“ He lifted the plates as a reference to the end of the statement.

“How did she get the keys?” Dean's hand managed to hold both plates in one hand with a fork in the other. With a full mouth, Dean answers his brother in a nonchalant manner as though the answer was as obvious as two plus two.

“She drove.”

“You let her drive!?”

“Yeah, look I’d love to talk but if I don’t get in there soon, she’s gonna pick the worst movie possible. I gotta get in there and try to persuade her to some’ better.”

Sam was left in awe in his chair. The youngest had always, arguably, been the smarter of the two, which allowed him to spot the signs far before Dean could, though they were hard to miss. Sam had always been aware of Dean's fondness of their best friend, but he also thought his brother would never allow himself to fall. Seems as though he was wrong.

“We are not watching that.” Dean blurted out as he entered the room.

“Dean I’m literally scrolling! I’m not even on anything specific!” Y/N spotted the plates of pie. “That for me?”

“No.” His mouth was full of pie.

“Whatever Dean, I know you. You put two pieces on your own plate.”

“So?” He swallowed looking at her.

“I promise to consider your opinion on the movie I pick?” She bit her bottom lip, eyebrows raised in an expectant manner, one arm extended awaiting the plated pie.

“Fine.” Dean handed her the plate taking a seat next to where she lay on her stomach looking at the television. “No romance.” Y/N took the plate and set it in front of her, gripping the fork right before shovelling a considerably large piece of pie in her mouth.

“I said I’d consider. Not that it matters. I already picked. I was just browsing while I waited for you. Oh, and it is a romance. Oh! And to top it off, it a musical.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me”

“We’re watching Grease.”

“Alright have fun I’m gonna go help Sam with research.”

“As if you’d pick research over a movie, regardless of the genre.”

“You’ve got a point.”

“Don’t be a baby. You can still be manly if you watch musicals, you just gotta sing the baritone.” Y/N smiled up at him over her shoulder, a teasing look on her face. She started the movie and they both watched, Dean occasionally making ridiculously obvious comment such as:

“They would never just up and start singing about their summer!”

“Well obviously not Dean, it’s a movie. I mean come on ‘Poltergeist’, you really want me to believe ghosts are real?”

Both howled as jokes came and went easing them into a comfortable location at the top of the bed leaning against the headboard and each other. Y/N sang along to most of the songs as Dean would hum to the ones he recognized until ‘Hopelessly Devoted’ began to play. Y/N, being the dramatic person she is, instantly got up kneeling on the bed as she sang pointing to Dean between glances at the telly. Dean had heard that particular song one too many times coming from Y/N’s room while she would make her bed or fold laundry. He heard it enough times that he had managed to store away each and every lyric in his head. In that moment, free of judgment, Dean joined Y/N in singing, reaching out his hand for hers which she took. They sang the whole song through to each other giggling as it ended with Sandy gliding paper over the water in a blow-up pool. Y/N collapsed next to her singing partner while he pulled her closer into his chest. They went about the evening eating snacks and teasing one another until the movie was over. They pulled apart at the credits to clean the room and prepare for bed.

“Here give me that, I’ll deal with the mess you go get ready for bed ‘kay?” Dean reached for Y/Ns plate.

“You know I’m not completely incapable of helping.”

“Oh, I’m well aware. But you can also let someone take care of you for a change.” He didn’t give her a chance at a rebuttal before taking the dishes and garbage leftover from their snacks, making his way to the kitchen. Now, Y/N wasn’t about to chase him down and argue with him for wanting to help, so she made her way to her room to grab a towel and PJs before heading to the shower.

Dean entered the library with a reminiscent smile on his face as he thought back on his day.

“Dean.” His eyes shot up to his brother, who was still sitting at his laptop, his bag of cashews a third of the way empty.

“Sam.”

“I— Listen I understand not wanting to tell, like, Cass or Jack or anyone else but me, man? I’m your brother. I know the risks that come with dating, I, of all people, know the risks in this life and not wanting to tell people makes sense but I figured you’d at the very least tell me.”

“What in the hell are you on about man?” Over the two or so hours it took for them to watch their movie, Sam had come to the conclusion that Dean wasn't in denial of his feelings, in fact, he had already acted on them. Dean, on the other hand, was genuinely lost in Sam's statement.

“You and Y/N. I thought initially that you were just ignoring your feelings, turns out you guys are already dating.”

“Sam, wait you think we’re dating? What in the world gave you that idea?” Without a word, Sam gave Dean his best bitch-face he could muster, watching as Dean then thought back to everything that had happened that day not to mention them sleeping in the same bed for weeks.

“You guys sleep in the same bed every night, you go everywhere together, you let her drive your car, then there’s the fact that you were singing to a musical!”

“You weren’t supposed to hear that.”

“Dean you’re in love.”

“No, I’m not.”

“Dean—“

“Sam, no! Why can’t a guy and girl just be friends! That’s all we are!”

“You’re telling me that if she started dating someone, you’d be her first supporter.”

“That's not gonna happen.”

“You’re telling me that if she walked in here right now and said, ‘Dean we need to talk’ only to tell you she loves you; you wouldn’t be beyond happy.”

“Sammy, stop.”

“You wouldn’t hug her and kiss her all over; tell her you love her back. You’re telling me, the most observant person in the bunker, that you haven’t felt it? That surge of energy when she smiles at you? The protectiveness when there is any sort of masculine threat around, when someone asks for her name at a bar, Dean! I’ve seen you! Your entire posture changes when someone flirts with her!”

“I said stop, Sam!” Dean's reply came out loud and angry as he squeezed his eyes shut.

“Just think about it. It could be really good, Dean. Don’t screw it up, ‘cause you’ll be the one losing her.”

“Hey, you guys okay in here? I don’t wanna have to break a stupid fight, I just showered I’m all clean. I don’t wanna have to the another ‘cause you’re bleeding everywhere.”

“We’re good Y/N. You need anything?”

“No, just came by to say good night and head to bed.” She looked too Dean who hadn’t looked away from her since she’d stepped into the library.

“Well, night Y/N.” Sam was first to answer while his brother picked up a wrapper that had fallen during his outburst.

“Night sweetheart.” With that Y/N headed back to Dean's room which, as she opened the door, realized it was all tidied up including the bed. Y/N smiled at that, remembering the night she made Dean get up so she could remake the bed. She hopped in putting her phone on the nightstand on the side of the bed she had claimed for herself.

Meanwhile, Dean made his way to the kitchen, cleaning the dishes before making his back to his room to grab a towel and PJs and follow Y/Ns example. Dean came back, his hair still damp and tussled, towel in hand, and got in bed next to Y/N after hanging it behind his door he had promptly shut after entering.

Both settled in, arranging pillows and blankets alike. After getting comfortable Y/N lifter her hand, as per their routine, for Dean to take. His hands stayed on his chest as he glanced at her hand. Every ounce of his body wanted to take it and interlace his fingers with hers, the thought giving him a rush. Every cell aching for the contact, but he ignored them all. Ignored the voice in his head screaming at him to take her hand and kiss it before falling asleep the same way he had done since the third night.

“I’m good for tonight.” Y/N gazed over to him with a hurt look on her face. She dropped her hand to her side slowly, not wanting to pressure her friend.

“Right, okay… well you know where it is if you need it.” Without a word Dean reached over and turned out the lights. The atmosphere around them was just short of tense. After a few beats, Y/N turned onto her side, facing away from Dean.

“Night Dean.” It took him a moment to conjure up the will the answer after hearing the pain and confusion in her voice.

“Night.”

Dean awoke the big spoon, reaching over his sleeping companion to hold her hand. In the moment Dean couldn’t care about the fact he was falling for her, — though some may argue he already had — he just wanted to hold her, feel her heartbeat through her t-shirt, the heat of her body against his own. He counted to five allowing himself a chance to memorize how she felt in his arms, before pulling away moving to his side of the bed.

The tension between them was tangible as they went about their day. Dean had practically ignored her all day, giving her the most benign answer, a grunt sufficing of acknowledgment. By nightfall Dean was ready for bed before anyone else, moving to his room. Y/N followed him shortly after, though still in her street clothes, just to check on him. She knocked and without awaiting an answer, opened the door.

“Dean? Are you okay? You’ve been off all day today and now you’re in bed before 7? What’s up.”

“Nothing. I’m fine, just tired.”

“You want me to—“

“No. Actually, Y/N, about that. I think I’ve figured out the nightmares I don’t need you to stay here anymore.” There was a pause while Y/N tried to understand his actions.

“Has anyone ever told you you’re highly lacking in tact Dean?” With that, she turned around and shut the door or rather slammed it. On her way to her room, she passed Sam who had heard the door.

“Hey, is everything okay with you guys?”

“We’re fine Sam.” Y/Ns response was blunt and to the point, a deep frown on her face as she shoved past him. She was angry, but why? She had been staying with Dean, not for her own benefit but to help him. To aid him in getting a full night's sleep that had previously been disrupted by nightmares which, he had claimed, were no longer. Dean was left in his room, lights turned off in hopes of deterring any questions his brother may want to ask. He knew what he had done was one of the least intelligent things he’s done but it had to happen. The more time he spent with her the deeper he would fall and with the life they lived, with the relationship he already had with her, it wasn’t a smart thing to let happen. So, he did the best he could with the aim of not leading her on and avoiding the subject entirely. The thing about Dean was if he liked something or someone as much as he did Y/N, he would, without a second thought, give his life to protect them. In his head, this is how he excused his actions. Being with someone like Dean could only hurt the other person. He was dangerous with a constant target on his back. To be with Dean meant sporting the twinning target though it was worth significantly more than his own because to hurt them meant hurting Dean in a more wounding and permanent way than hurting the Winchester himself. Dean wouldn't— couldn’t risk Y/N’s life because he loved her, if anything that would show the opposite of love. So, he would love her from afar, hurting her himself, but at least she was safe.

Y/N slept just fine in her own bed though it was colder than she remembered, and it took longer to fall asleep due to the missing rhythm of Dean's breathing. She was furious at Dean — and at herself for wanting him this way. It didn’t take long for her initial crush to grow. She was spending every day with him and then she got to sleep in the same bed as the eldest Winchester. Not that she’d have ever acted on it. She knew Dean would have never reciprocated her feeling and she’d made her peace with it. Dean had always been emotionally unavailable though she thought she was getting through to him as of late. She was satisfied with being his friend and one of his best at that. She got to spend every day with him, she was there when he needed her help and vice versa. Y/N had never been overly disappointed at the fact that her crush would never be more than one-sided. It couldn’t be. She understood that with the life they lived, having a relationship was off the table. But the way Dean had been acting the past two days admittedly hurt her. She never pushed him to do anything he didn’t want to do, and suddenly he had completely shut her out.

Dean, on the other hand, simply refused to admit to his feelings. It hurt him just as much to push her away, but he declared it mandatory in order to protect her.

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Chapter 4

Tag List: @akshi8278 @bargedog @just-someone-difficult @mila-dans @valhallavxlkyrie

Series Tags: @autobotgirl15-blog @classyunknownlover @laycblack @lovememisha @redbarn1995 @wellfuckmyexistence

#fanfic #supernatural #spn #supernatural fanfiction #Dean x Reader #Dean x you #Dean Winchester x Reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester #dean winchester fluff #spnfamily #spnfanficpond #dean fluff #fluff #the same bed series #spn fanfic series #Dean Winchester x female reader #dean

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beelsnack · 4 years ago

Note

Hi!!! I LOVE UR WRITING AND I MEAN A LOT! Its the first time EVER I ask for something and I know you are the right person! I don't know if you can write a HC of a female MC or it NEEDS to be neutral but just in case: How would the brothers react to a fem MC who is like"flat", (almost no breasts) and is super insecure? If you only write neutral, how would they react if MC was insecure because they have no curves at all and they think they are plain? THANKS A LOT 💞💞

Omg I’m??? So honored?? Thank you so much, I hope I can live up to the praise. ^////^

Yeah, I can def write a female MC! My only rule regarding MC’s gender is that you specify in the request if you want a certain gender for the MC. Other than that, I default to gender neutral pronouns!

I feel like I kind of mixed the two versions of your request together without meaning to, lol. This ended up being more like a fem MC who thinks they are plain. I hope you like it regardless!

I’m sorry this took so long, friend. I was in a bit of a creative slump and I wanted to put my all into your request!

CW: Suggestive situations, but nothing explicit

-----

Lucifer: “Come on, stop staring.”

Lucifer smirked from his position beneath her, using one arm to prop himself up while the other reached up to trail along her jaw. “Am I not allowed to admire your beauty?”

“I’m not beautiful,” she muttered, glancing away shyly. In the heat of the moment, both of them had discarded a majority of their clothes, but now that she had a moment to think, she hesitated. “Especially not compared to you.”

“I wasn’t aware that our relationship was a beauty contest,” he sat up fully, brow creased in concern. His hands made their way to her waist, steadying her as she straddled his lap. “Tell me what’s on your mind, my dear.”

She bit her lip, face growing warm. “It’s just…wouldn’t you prefer someone more…more?”

“My dear,” he chuckled lowly. “You are already quite the handful.”

“I meant…physically.” she crossed her arms over her chest, and Lucifer couldn’t tell if it was a subconscious gesture or not. “I’m not exactly…you know, well endowed.”

He was quiet for a moment before sighing and tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. “If I wanted to be with someone based solely on appearance, I have my pick of the whole Devildom. You, my dear, are the only one who had managed to enrapture me with more than just your pretty face.”

Mammon: “Hey, human! Check it out!”

Mammon actually knocked on the door while he spoke, they were making progress.

She looked up from her schoolwork and smiled at him. “What’s up?”

“The Great Mammon is on the front cover of Devil Today, that’s what!” he tossed the magazine he had been carrying on top of their textbook. Splayed across the front in full color was Mammon, staring coolly over his sunglasses at the camera. The only change from his normal attire was swapping out his normal brown and white jacket for a black leather one, so it was clearly supposed to look casual.

Her eyes drifted from Mammon’s picture to beautiful demoness hanging off of his arm. She was exactly what a model should be - tall, slender, well-endowed, the works. The human felt a surge of jealousy climb up their throat, and she had to struggle to force in down.

“Hey, hey,” Mammon planted his palm flat on her desk, leaning down so he was eye-level with her. “What’s with that face?”

“What face?”

“The face yer makin’.” he frowned. “You look like you just took a bite out of something rotten.”

Her eyes flicked back to the glossy magazine cover. “Nothing. The picture looks great, Mammon.”

“You really think you’re getting out of this that easily?” he might lack common sense, but Mammon could read facial expressions and nervous tics like most people read books. “Come on, tell me what’s up.”

“I just…” she sighed, slumping back in her desk chair. “I keep wondering when you’re going to dump me for one of these amazing models you work with.”

Mammon’s eyes went wide behind his glasses. “You’re kidding me, right?”

When she shrugged and looked away, he huffed and took her hand. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. I wouldn’t trade you for anything.”

“Even Goldie?”

“Hey now, don’t be cruel!”

Leviathan: Was she really getting jealous over an anime girl?

A quick glance at the screen in front of them told her that yes, yes she was.

“Whoa, I, um…!” Levi gulped, scrambling for the pause button. The main couple was in a locker room, the girl clad in nothing but a pair on gym shorts and a flimsy tank top. There had been plot that lead up to this scene, but she had stopped paying attention a while ago.

“The reviews didn’t say anything about an r18 scene…” Levi mumbled, face turning bright red. She could see his bright orange eyes flick over to her briefly before he desperately searched for anything else to look at. “Oh, man. Ohhhh man…”

“Levi?” she gently placed a hand on his arm, and she felt him tense, but he didn’t pull away. Maybe the exposure therapy WAS working. “You good?”

“I-I-I…” he kept looking back and forth between her and the screen, face getting redder with each pass. Yup, he was definitely comparing.

Almost instinctively, she curled in on herself. Of course, she should have known she couldn’t even begin to compare to a 2D girl.

“Ah, wait, no, don’t look like that!” Levi stammered. “I just, um…th-this is the first time…I’ve thought the 2D one was…b-b-better…”

She stared at him for a solid thirty seconds before her brain caught up with what was happening and her face grew just as hot as Levi’s looked. “…Oh…”

Satan: Well, someone was certainly popular.

Satan had asked her to go to a new cat cafe that was opening up after classes had ended. He always took a bit longer to reach the entrance since his last class was all the way across the campus, so she had found herself a nice bench to sit on and read while she waited. It was only a few minutes before the doors opened to reveal Satan…

And a whole group of succubi.

Obviously, since he was one of the Seven Rulers of Hell, Satan got quite a bit of attention. Although she didn’t want to admit it out loud, the thought of him surrounded by demons whose literal reason for living was to turn people on made her feel a bit…inadequate.

One of them had linked her arm with his, manicured claws drumming along his forearm and she smiled coyly up at him. They were too far away for the human to hear the conversation, but the way her glossy lips pouted cutely up at him certainly didn’t make the human feel any better.

As they descended the stairs onto the cobblestone walkway, Satan’s eyes met her. Almost immediately, the vaguely irritated expression he had been wearing melted into something warm and he shook the succubus off of his arm without a second thought.

“Hey, sorry for making you wait.” he was at her side in a second, extending a hand to help her up from the bench. “Were you here long?”

“Only a few minutes,” she peeked over his shoulder at the fan club that was slowly morphing into an angry mob. “Um…”

“They’ll get over it,” he held onto her hand as they began walking, leaning over to kiss her temple. “Come on, let’s go. What were you reading?”

Maybe she didn’t have anything to worry about.

Asmodeus: This was a mistake.

A new nightclub had opened up in the Devildom Cultural District, and as Devilgram’s biggest influencer, Asmo had gotten some VIP tickets. He had practically begged her to come, since it was so rare that she wasn’t bogged down with homework and other mundane things. The thought of going clubbing with a bunch of demons made her feel a bit queasy, but she had agreed anyway.

Of course, Asmo was taking forever to get here. Knowing him, he was still in the bath. But, her name was on the VIP list, so the bouncer had let her stand behind the rope to wait for her date.

She watched as what seemed like every Devilgram model was let into the club. She couldn’t hear anything being said over the pounding base of the music, but she had caught enough disparaging glances to get the general idea that she was being judged.

She probably looked like a kid playing dress up compared to everyone else. Although she had thought that she looked fairly decent when she had checked herself out in the mirror before leaving, being surrounded by the Devildom’s best and brightest put a very unflattering filter over her self image.

“There you are!”

She jumped as Asmo appeared in front of her. She had been so lost in her thoughts that she hadn’t noticed the bouncer let him in. He looked stunning, as always, hair curled stylishly and already long lashes made even longer with mascara. Honestly, this man could show up in a garbage bag and make it the next fashion trend.

“Ooh, that dress looks amazing on you, darling!” he pressed a quick kiss to her cheek, briefly overwhelming her senses with the smell of his cologne. “I’ve never seen you wear that color before! Look at you, stepping out of your comfort zone.”

“Thanks, Asmo,” she laughed. “You look amazing too.”

“Don’t I?” he held out his arm for her hold onto like a proper gentleman. “I tried this new moisturizer today, and it’s a miracle-worker! You have to try it.”

“Is that Lord Asmodeus?”

“Of course it is, any club owner worth their salt would invite him for the opening!”

“Who’s that mousey little thing with him though?”

She could only catch snippets of conversations, but the Devildom rumor mill was already turning. She couldn’t help but frown, tucking herself closer to Asmo’s side.

“Don’t listen to them, darling,” he leaned down to whisper-yell into her ear. “They’re just jealous, and jealousy doesn’t look good on anyone.”

Beelzebub: This was the last time she was working out with Beel.

It might have been different if they were working out at the House, but being surrounded by demonic weightlifters made her feel a special kind of incompetent.

Everyone in the gym looked like they should be starring in a weight loss infomercial, but she felt like she was the before picture and everyone else was the after. She was wearing a baggy T-shirt that she was pretty sure wasn’t even hers and basketball shorts. Everyone around her was all toned muscles and six packs, and her arms felt rubbery just from a few reps with a five pound weight.

“You need some water.”

Someone of Beel’s size had no right to be as sneaky as he was. She hadn’t even heard him set down his weight, and suddenly he was standing in front of her holding out a water bottle.

“Thanks.” she sighed, setting down her weight. She hadn’t realized how thirsty she was until she took a drink. “Man, I feel tired already.”

“You’re doing good,” Beel smiled. “Maybe next time you can try the ten-pound weights.”

Just the thought made her biceps twinge. “Maybe…”

“You don’t have to feel self-conscious.”

“Huh?” Damn him and his unexpected perceptiveness.

He sat down next to her on the bench, popping the cap on his own water bottle. “You were looking around at everyone else, and you had this look on your face like you just ate something bad.”

“I’m that obvious, huh?” she laughed weakly.

“Not really,” he shrugged. “I was watching you.”

“You were?” she had been too busy comparing herself to everyone else to notice.

He nodded. “I like how you look when you’re determined. It’s…cute isn’t the right word, but…”

She couldn’t help but laugh, bumping him with her shoulder. “I get it. Thanks Beel.”

Belphegor: “Hey, come on, wake up!”

Sometimes she swore Belphie purposely fell asleep whenever it was the most inconvenient for other people.

She honestly didn’t know when he was conked out, but he was deep in slumber by the time she closed the textbook she had been using to fill out her study guide. He had folded his arms on the library table that the two of them had commandeered and pillowed his head on top of them.

“Why do I even bother…?” she sighed. Even so, she poked his cheek. “Belphie, come on. They’re going to close the library soon.”

He mumbled, but stubbornly remained asleep. Growling under her breath, she stood up and placed both of her hands on his shoulders.

“Bel. Phe. Gor,” she punctuated each syllable of his name with a shake of his shoulders. Finally, he groaned, one drowsy amethyst eye blinking up at her.

“Man, I was having a really good dream…”

She huffed, crossing her arms. “Were you even sleep long enough to dream? We’ve only been here for an hour or so.”

“O ye of little faith.” he yawned, sitting up. “I guess it’s best you woke me up, it wasn’t a dream I should be having in public.”

“Please tell me you weren’t having a wet dream in the school library.”

“Mm,” he smirked up at her. “It wasn’t a wet dream yet. More like moist.”

“Gross.”

“Well, I thought it was pleasant.”

She rolled her eyes, beginning to gather up the books she had spread across the table. Belphie continued to watch her through heavy-lidded eyes.

“You were really cute in my dream.” he finally said. “Not that you aren’t cute in real life, but still.”

She paused. “You were dreaming about me?”

“Who else would I dream about?”

“Literally anyone else.” she frowned, refusing to look at him as she shoved all of her supplies back into her bag. “I’ve seen some of the succubi around here, there are way better options.”

“Do you really think that?” Belphie reached out and grabbed her wrist. He wore his usual disinterested frown, but there was genuine concern shining in his eyes. “You really think I would trade you in for a bigger pair of tits attached to a screeching harpy?”

She just shrugged.

“If this was just about how you looked,” he stood, still holding onto her wrist. “Do you really think I would sacrifice my precious nap time to study with you?”

“Well, I mean, you still had your nap time…”

“That’s beside the point.”

#shall we date obey me #obey me #obey me lucifer #obey me mammon #obey me leviathan #obey me levi #obey me satan #obey me asmodeus #obey me asmo #obey me beelzebub #obey me beel #obey me belphegor #obey me belphie #obey me x mc #fem!mc

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shimmershae · 3 years ago

Text

My thoughts on Episode 8--For Blood

As always, placed behind a cut for those of you that would rather escape my babbling, lol. You’re welcome.

Sadly, I don’t think this is anticipation I feel. I’m pretty sure it’s dread but okay. Here we go.

This episode has to go up from the rock bottom boredom of last week, right?

Let me preface what I’m about to say with the truth that I in no way hate Maggie. She’s been with us since Season 2 and I have an emotional attachment to her, mostly due to my love of Glenn and the way he loved her. She’s not my favorite by any means, but the fact of the matter is, I do like and appreciate her and don’t mind that she is back because it’s nice to have old familiar faces with us to take us into the final season. That said? Forcing Maggie front and center after her long absence ultimately, IMHO, has not worked in these first 8 episodes. I can’t help but feel if ASZ had been the A story with Maggie/Negan and Daryl/Leah/the Reapers the B1 and B2 story? These episodes would have been better received overall and not feel so much like they’re trying so hard. Maybe lead me toward the water instead of shoving my head in it next time, Angela? Hmm?

Oh goodie. They’re opening at Meridian. Should I get my bathroom break out of the way now or give myself an out for later? Call it Shae’s choice, lol.

That flicker of a smirk Leah gave to Carver after their mini walk down memory lane had more spark to it than the entirety of her and Daryl’s toxic relationship. In the future, maybe Angela will lean all in on them instead of Leah and Daryl. Something tells me Leah knows this “brother” biblically.

Daryl recognizes Whisperer moves when he sees ‘em. Somehow, he realizes Maggie and Negan have banded together however reluctantly.

Pope doing it “Dixon’s” way but not allowing Dixon to do the actual thing shows the level of distrust and paranoia the man still haves for outsiders.

Look at Daryl chewing his lips with worry for his people. If he and Leah know each other even a little bit, she has to recognize that as one of his tells.

Ooohhhh. Who took the first stab at Wells? Maggie? Negan? Father G? I swear. I took my eyes off the “ball” one second and the whole damn play is halfway down the field. Sorry. If you cannot tell, I watched football with the fam yesterday, lol.

The Walking Dead logo didn’t crumble this time. Interesting. Parts of it looked like it had been rebuilt. With brick. Wood. Other parts of it looked reclaimed by nature. Call me crazy, but that almost looks like an eye/part of a face on the first D.

Okay then. Babbling nonsense about the logo over, lol. Tell me. Please. Anybody. How do the events at ASZ line up with the events at Meridian? Because it’s night and full-blown storming in ASZ and still daylight at Meridian. But hey. Thank fuck we’re in ASZ.

All the babies huddled together giving me feels. Sorry. I know some feel they have no place on the show, but I personally enjoy their inclusion from time to time. It usually plucks hard at my heartstrings.

Connie tenderly comforting an injured Virgil is sweet, not gonna lie.

Aww. Is that Hershel petting a scared RJ’s hair? Unless it’s a case of me not being able to pick out and place all the little hands, which it most certainly could be, I’m thinking Judith’s got her hand on her knee and that’s Hershel’s hand in RJ’s hair. Regardless of whose hand is where, it was a sweet little scene. What can I say? I’m easy because Baby Glenn and Baby Rick, ya’ll.

Oh snap. The windmill’s on fire and pieces of the wall are blowing down main street ASZ like steel tumbleweeds, lol.

Anybody else having flashbacks to the barn from Season 5? Good times. We still had most of Team Family with us then. They were in a bad place, hurting and lost and just trying to survive--when are they not just trying to survive?--but they were together. I miss them.

Carol and Lydia holding each other. These two, lovelies, have my whole heart.

Wells is Walker Jerky, Shaw. Stop wasting your breath.

“She did. My enemy.” I mean, are we supposed to get the impression Maggie’s been a formidable adversary to Pope? Because she feels more like a roach that simply knows the best rocks to hide under. Granted, roaches are hard to kill but still. I’m gonna need them to give us something better than Maggie being Pope’s enemy simply because she didn’t want to give up her home without a fight because this is frankly unbelievable and bordering on stupid.

Alright. So they’ve obviously been sowing the seeds of distrust and defiance between Leah and Pope because she doesn’t like losing family but Daryl? Man? You and Leah have differing opinions about how family operates. Trust me on this.

So. Three teams, huh? Aaron fighting the windmill fire, Carol repairing the breach in the wall, Rosita protecting the babies that represent their future. Choose your fighters, lol. Seriously, though. Why do I have the sinking feeling only one group is going to be shown actually doing their thing?

Listen. Am I pissed we haven’t gotten the scene we deserve yet between Carol and Connie after all that’s happened and we’re getting crumbs mainly because Angela wrongly feels the Reapers/Maggie & Negan/Daryl & Leah need more focus? Absolutely. You bet your sweet asses. But Melissa fucking McBride just took the crumbs allotted her and made a magnificent, work of art cake out of it trying all on her lonesome to feed us starving Carol fans.

Bless Connie wanting wanting to go with Carol. What a show of trust and sister-like solidarity that must have some hate-rotted guts about to turn themselves out.

I love Kelly and Connie’s sister bond. No ill will intended, but It takes the good parts of Maggie and Beth and elevates it beyond anything those two ever showed us. I really feel like that’s a testament to Angel and Lauren’s real life ease with each other.

Magna choosing to go with Aaron makes me wonder if it’s possible she feels some kind of residual guilt over Connie. Not guilt for anything she’s actually done, but simply guilt over making it out.

Virgil volunteering to help. Okay. Damn. I’m honestly starting to like the guy.

Judith offering to go with her aunt Carol had me all up in my feels. I mean, granted. It was a blink and you miss it scene. We really deserved a longer heart to heart between that little girl and the woman that’s sacrificed so much to keep her safe and loved her for so long, but you know I’ll gobble any and all Judith/Aunt Carol content up. Seems to me, Little Ass Kicker is just as afraid of letting Aunt Carol out of her sight as Uncle Daryl. My heart.

Gracie and Aaron are sweet. And honestly? I find them more realistic and true to what normal parents and children would be like in a ZA than Judith and Michonne no matter how much I love that bond. I mean no disrespect, but I really do.

“Why am I keeping you around?” Pope asking the question we’re all wondering.

Not Apocalypse Popeye comparing Daryl to a stray dog. Joe from the Claimers already declared Daryl an outside cat that thought he was an indoor cat. I did have to internally cheer when Daryl was like “I’m ain’t gonna lick it” talking about the helping hand Pope had extended him.

“Somehow she has turned the dead against the living. Oh, that’s impressive.” The thing about Pope respecting Maggie so much as an enemy is I just find it hard to buy, lol. Like if this had been Carol, yeah. But Maggie? Nope. They’ve mostly shown her (with Gage being the bewildering exception) to be all bark and no bite.

Has the house in ASZ really become that dilapidated that they can see through its walls? Because its original owners dodged a bullet if so.

Look at Grace hero-worshipping Judith. It’s sweet.

Virgil telling Judith Michonne would be proud of her is nice but doesn’t feel as earned as if someone like Daryl or Carol that actually knew Michonne well said it. But maybe that’s the whole point--Judith needs to hear it from someone she knows isn’t going to just say what she wants to hear.

Call me jaded, it was a touching scene, but also? It felt designed to allow Judith to move beyond her very normal and realistic feelings of being abandoned by Michonne, even though she gave her the “okay” herself. Like she’s still a kid. Wants don’t always line up with feelings. Anyway. Cailey continues to be a bright, shining little star and I love how she’s managed to make Judith a true amalgamation of all the people she’s loved who have loved her in return. Not just Michonne. I know people like to overlook and cheapen the fact, but it’s taken a village and entire family to raise her from infancy.

Gracie really should have known better than play in front of the windows during a storm period, but oh well. Plot point, lol.

Seriously, though. I feel like they’ve teased poor Gracie’s demise in a multitude of ways since the beginning of the season. I hope nothing ultimately comes of it but I fear it will. All I can say if the worst comes to happen is poor Aaron.

Where are Negan and Elijah though? Ouch. There they are, taking on shrapnel for the cause.

Ready the what now?

There’s ASZ’s Baby Sitter Extraordinaire! Barbara, is it? That lady’s been putting in the work since Season 5 at least.

I’ve honestly grown to love Rosita. More of her and less of Maggie, please and thank you.

“Let’s stay away from the windows.” I’m sorry but I had to LMAO at that. Still a badass moment though.

Gabe hobbling toward his assigned sentinel. At least they haven’t forgotten he’s injured like they seemed to forget Daryl was near death last season before the attack on Hilltop, lol.

“It’s hard to watch something you care about change.” Listen, Leah. Chick. You and Daryl obviously never really knew each other. It’s always been obvious but I have a feeling “DIxon” is finally going to show you, spoilers or no spoilers.

WTF are they calling that thing? Sorry. I have just as hard a time understanding Pope’s accent as I do Maggie’s sometimes.

That’s not love that has Daryl telling Leah she can come with him. That’s care for somebody he used to know. There is a distinct difference that’s obviously lost on so many. How can you really and truly love someone you cannot trust? Especially in Daryl Dixon’s case?

Why does Angela hate us so much? Giving us all these Reaper scenes and leaving us to simply imagine Carol and Connie and Kelly working side by side to save the wall?

I think I honestly could have enjoyed this whole Reaper storyline more, at least a little bit anyway, had they not retrofitted a half-assed romance between Daryl and the story’s weakest link and if only they’d made it the B storyline and given earned deference to the goings-on in ASZ instead.

I wonder if Glenn taught Maggie how to hot write a car? I miss my baby Glenn.

Apocalypse Popeye is several fries short of a Happy Meal. What else is new on this show, lol?

I care for Maggie. Mostly for nostalgia’s sake and Glenn and Baby Hershel but damn, man. She’s not actually proven herself got be worth killing your entire “family” for. But are too far gone, so. We’ll make allowances.

I will say at least this episode is not as abysmally biring as last week’s episode.

Leah finally giving Pope the throat punch he’s been asking for but I’m not fooled she’s on Daryl’s side here. She’s always been on her own side.

Look at Father G returning the favor for Maggie saving him in the tower. Taking Deaver down! Poor Deaver barely saw the light of day.

Here comes that woman scorned part. I can feel it.

“Pope is dead. Dixon murdered him. He’s with the enemy.”

Please, Angela. I’m begging you. Bring Carol into this story and ramp it the fuck up. You been idling too damn long and the car is fast running outta gas.

Bitch really has to die to framing Carol’s Pookie.

Rosita and Lydia and Carol and Connie and Kelly and Magna have literally been holding up this damn show while Angela farts around with the Reapers bullshit. Honorable mention goes to Aaron but these lovely, badass ladies been putting in the real work and not getting any of the glory. You just know they’re tired AF.

Not my babies Lydia and Judith being the cliffhanger! Oh and Gracie. Angela?! A word.

Listen. Carol’s already done that fireworks trick. That Reaper dude owes her royalties. Granted, it was on a smaller scale but much more impressive for it because she was left to be the sharpshooter.

Angela has a point. It is kind of cool how Team Family have learned from their enemies and assimilated their useful points into their own cache of knowledge.

I truly feel like the Leah/Reaper storyline would have benefitted from a much stronger actress. Just saying.

I know Judith annoys some with her precociousness but Cailey just keeps teeing off on what they give her and personally? I feel she’s so very talented and light years beyond her little acting counterparts so it still works.

“They’re never gonna choose each other over the people that they’ve loved and fought for because they simply cannot really trust each other. There’s sort of, like a toxicity at the base of that relationship.” Straight from Angela’s mouth.

“At the end of the day, Daryl chose his family.” Yeah, he did. That “I belong with you” shit only happened when he felt they were all gone, including the one he loved above all others--Carol. Fight me.

Overall impression of the episode?

On its own, disregarding how much I can’t help resenting how much time I feel has been “wasted” setting this story up, it was much more entertaining than Episode 7 which was only epic in that it was an epic bore. There was still too much focus on the Reapers when I just just kept wanting to see what was happening at ASZ. I mean, they cheated us out of Carol and Connie and Kelly working together. Of Aaron and Magna. Call it personal preference coloring my opinions if you want, but the characters I care about feel like they’ve been shown the backseat for this self-indulgent exploration of Angela’s OC and her version of self-insert FF with Daryl Dixon. If we can return to Team Family? The whole Team Family and not just Maggie and Co. against the world? You’ve got me. If not? Well. You’ll keep losing me by degrees and you don’t want to do that on the final season.

Anyway. The ASZ parts were my favorites per usual. The episode could have used a lot more of those.

#The Walking Dead #Season 11 #TWD spoilers #things that make me smile and cry #for reasons

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maxwell-grant · 4 years ago

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The idea of the Shadow co-existing with Superheroes brings the question: How does the Shadow react when events escalate beyond the point where he can have an impact? How does he feel when the entire world is at risk, and he can't help?

Basically the above panel. By refusing to acknowledge the possibility that he can’t help, even if just to save one person, one life, at the end.

By doing whatever he can, even if he can’t save everyone or finish those causing it. Even if he is taken aback by it (and he definitely would, because he is rarely if ever out of his depth to such an extent), there is rarely, if ever, a time where nothing can be done to help someone, even if it can’t be done by addressing or fixing the problem, even if a lot of the times, we don’t know what to do to help.

There’s a particular passage that came to mind when I read your question, from a story called The Living Joss, where The Shadow stops to mourn a man, a total stranger, whom he failed to protect in time. We rarely ever get to see scenes like this as usually The Shadow expresses thoughts and feelings through non-verbal gestures and laughter (sometimes he almost laughs more often than he talks), and this moment always stuck out to me.

Amid the misty drizzle, The Shadow lowered himself from the side of the bridge, and dropped to the craggy side of the ravine. He reached the smashed car. Blaine Goodall, in a mad effort to escape death, had opened the door of the failing coupe. Caught beneath the rolling body of the car, Goodall had met his doom.

The Shadow stood in silence. Again, fate had contrived against his surpassing skill. He had arrived in time to shoot down one squad of blocking enemies. He had turned and driven back to deliver death to another corps of skulking assassins. But in the midst of conflict, the man whom he had come to save had hurtled to his own destruction.

Long minutes followed The Shadow's sad discovery; then a figure clambered into the speedster, and the powerful motor roared as it started along the road that led back to New York.

The Shadow had another score to settle. Never again would Koy Shan slay. Death would strike him before he had the new opportunity.

Here, after he manages to stave off the assassins and finds the guy, he takes a moment to mourn, to reflect, to think, and then he immediately gets back on track to pursue vengeance against the ones responsible for said death to stop them from killing others.

Obviously The Shadow outright failing is a very rare occurance, unless it’s by narrative design heroes very rarely botch rescues so badly that people die or don’t manage to get at least one victory at the end of the story. But The Shadow failing or miscalculating, failing to protect people, failing to calculate certain factors and so on, was nowhere near as unthinkable of an occurance in the pulps as people seem to think.

No matter how unshakeable his confidence in himself is, how prepared he is for everything, or how his willpower is so strong than in the radio show it allowed him to protect himself and Margo from a literal time loop through willlpower alone, he’s not the omniscient demigod he pretends to be, and he’s aware of it. He has to be, because arrogance is the downfall of every villain he’s ever fought, and third-person speaking black-clad cackling ghoul he is, he is all too aware of his proximity to them.

I...have concerns about my clarity, and my mental focus. I’m not one to suffer doubt...nor to take the scope of my actions lightly.

Yet of late, I’ve felt...untethered. And subject to foul emotions I’d long since thought buried.

But I am a commander in a war. There are people who risk their very lives under my authority.

But no matter how badly it got in the stories, how hopeless circumstances got or how many people had already been killed by the villains he fought, The Shadow never appeared close to giving up protecting others, no matter the cost to himself.

It’s one of the things that runs contrary to the common idea that he’s an unfeeling sadist murder machine, how often he completely disregards everything to go and throw himself in danger to rescue anyone who’s in any danger. Creeping Death has one such sequence where he jumps out of cover to the middle of a gunfight, and gets shot in the process, to literally throw Vic Marquette into safety (Marquette, who is not an agent, or an especially likeable character for that matter), and then sticks around after the bad guys are dispatched to ensure that help is on the way. Or in Invincible Shiwan Khan, when he gets injured throwing himself on the path of a flying Moe Shrevnitz to cushion his fall, and because of it, gets beaten so brutally by Khan’s minion that he staggers barely conscious out of the fight, even though by this point he’s racing against the clock to stop Khan from acquiring his doomsday devices. At these moments, all he really could do, regardless of the odds, was to try and stop people from being hurt or killed, no matter the personal cost to himself or the mission, and so he did.

Throw a superhero apocalypse his way, and he’s going to be doing whatever he can to recruit the right people, obtain the right resources, anything he can to stop as much bloodshed as he can. And if he can’t? He’s going to be there to rescue people caught in the crossfire. If a zombie apocalypse hits town, he puts all of his agents to work on containing it as much as they can or finding a cure. If a giant monster’s rampaging downtown, he’s going to hitch a ride in a train and fire at it so it chases him and gives others time to run. If there’s an earthquake or tsunami, he gathers as many agents as he can and starts finding ways to ferry people to safety. If everyone he knows is dead, his greatest enemies have been winning for decades, and he’s stuck in a world that hates him and has no use for him, and he has no idea anymore what he even used to be? Still not gonna stop him. The Twilight Zone traps him in constantly shifting dimensions that break down his identity until he learns he’s nothing more than a fictional character, and he walks out of it having learned a lesson in humility.

If he’s thrown, alone, in a full on dystopia setting completely unlike his own, where he has to learn single-handedly to fight alien hordes to save Earth?

It's not that he never fails, can never fail or become emotionally distressed at it, it's that it ultimately does not stop him from doing whatever he can, whatever needs to be done, as The Shadow. His whole thing is knowing what to do above all else, and when he doesn’t know, he learns, studies, does whatever he can to remedy that as soon as possible.

#pulp heroes #the shadow #pulp fiction #replies tag

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begrudginglytumbling · 4 years ago

Text

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

Part Five!

Now with gifs!...since I’ve learnt the most basic of basic gifmaking and it was actually quicker than trying to pause at just the right moment, which has been enough of an issue previously to make me swear through gritted teeth.

Time for Love O2O - that’s both the film and the series since the little overachiever just had to get cast in both.

Ready?

Bai Yu plays a character called Cao Guang in both the film and drama. In the film he seems to be a smushed together version of what in the drama are two separate people.

Now then do you see this slightly bewildered expression while looking at a computer screen? Because this was basically me watching Love O2O, both film and drama.

Why the bewilderment?

Well, I’ve come to expect a certain level of odd sitting and leaning from Bai Yu. I almost expect all his characters to be some form of Bi Disaster now. But Cao Guang? So far I’ve never seen Bai Yu sit so straight. It’s slightly unnerving, in a similar way to if someone went into your house and moved things just slightly to the left. There’s not enough of a difference to cause major problems, but there’s enough for your mind to feel uncomfortable and twitchy because something is just off.

I mean, don’t get me wrong, he still does his Bai Yu thing, but it’s almost muted, I suppose is the best word to use for it.

We’ll start with the film version, which also has the alternate title of One Smile is Very Alluring apparently.

Before this moment, he’s actually sitting properly at the desk. Both feet were on the floor and everything which was just weird. But then he stood and transitioned into a lean, that made it a little less weird.

This is, technically, also further evidence that if something is at Bai Yu butt height, he will lean/sit on it. I think I’m going to have to start capitalising it since Bai Yu Butt Height now seems to be a Thing.

(I could not get this paused at just the right moment, so here, have a gif)

And look here! He’s sitting kinda properly and only vaguely uncomfortable looking, but that has more to do with the situation than the sitting.

Seriously, so weird.

If we stick with just the general premise of ‘does he sit or doesn’t he’ then being on a horse counts...even though watching the game scenes hurt me in a major secondhand embarrassment way. Just...the outfits, people, and the hair...I just...I can’t.

At one point he gets his arse handed to him multiple times, which leads to quite a bit of time on the floor.

Even the set refuses to let Bai Yu get up and support his own body weight apparently. The weirdness of him standing under his own power is obviously just too much.

Too odd.

Too strange.

He must be returned to his natural state of being.

The car magnet he’s got implanted in his backside did manage to do its job though...even if it was in the background and barely lasted a couple of seconds at most.

Now then, the drama. Admittedly I only got to episode 11 then I started skipping because I got a bit bored with the main pairing and general story. But the bits I skipped to? Yeah...I may have gone a little over fixated on the whole way of sitting thing since I found myself analysing the degree of leg bend when his feet weren’t in shot to gauge whether or not both feet were planted on the ground or if one was on top of the other and...yeah, let’s just say it was a good thing when I got to the end of this drama. For what remains of my sanity if nothing else.

Look, most of the time, if he’s not standing and walking, he’s like this.

Sitting properly, feet on the floor. And yeah, it counts as not supporting his own weight. But what happened to the floor is lava? How hard was it for him not to cross his legs, or put one foot on top of the other, or rest his feet on something else?

He does cross this legs sometimes, and you can even see it fully a couple of times.

Like here, this is what I’ve come to expect. This is a normal seated look for this man.

He sits.

He flicks one leg over the other.

He’s happy.

Simple.

But most of the time, he doesn’t have his legs crossed in this drama. Which led me to leaning forward and squinting at the screen when moments like this came along.

Because those legs are crossed. I’m sure of it.

Cao Guang, as a character, is not the kind of person to sit like this often. Bai Yu, as a person, can’t seem to stop himself fully though.

And look at this.

When it comes to this desk, this is the weirdest he sits. Which isn’t weird at all! It’s still kinda sitting properly!

And then this. This is one of those moments where I spent way too long staring at his legs trying to determined if he had one foot on top of the other.

From the angle, and the shadows, and the different heights of his knees, I have decided that yes, he does had one foot on top of the other. He is playing the floor is lava when the camera can’t see his feet.

(...don’t judge me for diving off the deepend on this one. I’m already judging myself hard enough)

Cao Guang might not be much of a weird sitter, but he is still a slight leaner if the opportunity presents itself.

Especially in Bai Yu Butt Height circumstances.

But in general, he’s less of a full body lean, and more of a light, quick lean. And it always seems to be on things he himself has placed there.

Like a moped,

or a camera.

He does sit on the floor in a sweaty mess after having his arse handed to him in a 1 on 1 basketball game.

Seriously, if you want a sweat physically dripping off of him Bai Yu, then this is the scene for you.

Further sittingwise you have some general sitting in what I think it meant to be a foreign country(?).

And the delightful lift-and-turn he’s got going on here.

(and I’ve only just realised that ErXi has her hand up as though if she can’t see the teacher, then the teacher can’t see her. I adore this woman, she’s just so cute)

Hospitals.

Every character of Bai Yu’s I’ve encountered so far has a different way of sititng in hospitals.

Zhao Yunlan looks like he’s barely seconds away from either sliding to the floor or giving himself back problems, Xie Nanxiang is partial to a lean or a cross legged sit. Cao Guang? I would describe it as he sits like a bloke - legs spread, elbows resting on his knees. This might honestly be the straightest Bai Yu character I’ve ever encountered.

Of course he also has an in-game character in this. The wig is less cringe worthy than in the film, but there is something about his eyes in this that freaks me the fuck out so you won’t be getting on the floor pictures or looking in the direction of the camera pictures because looking at it too much seems to trigger a mild fight, flight, or freeze response in me. And I’m in no mood to deal with such ridiculousness.

So, in game character. He does spend time on the floor, only a little though. Most of his time is actually spent walking. But then they get in a boat and Bai Yu gets to indulge in his favoured elbow hook seated position generally reserved for benches and breakfast bar surface things when he’s on a stool.

Ok, last but not least, the moped!

This is a moped that birthed a headcanon for me.

It would seem that regardless of character, if something is a form of transport with wheels, then Bai Yu will find some way to sit or lean on it.

And y’know what? He is fully capable of looking damned good while doing so.

So that’s it? I think the conclusion I can draw from this one is that Bai Yu’s sitting, leaning, and lounging habits are things he can either turn up or tone down depending on the character. It’s just that more often than not the characters he plays allow him to turn it up. But Gao Guang was one of the more subdued ones, more straight blokey vibes, than Bi Disaster ones.

Both film and drama are available on Netflix (at least here in the UK they are).

They’re also on YouTube - film - drama - with subtiles and pretty good quality.

And both are on DramaCool - film - drama

The drama is on Viki too.

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six

#Bai Yu #Bai Yu Sitting Project #Cao Guang #Love O2O #featuring the straightest Bai Yu character I've ever encountered #and yes #I'm including the military bloke who got blown up #and the Fa Hai dude #and the 8 seconds of screen time deskmate #that I am clearly /not/ still salty about #but honestly what even /was/ that film?#everything about it was just.../ugh/!#...ok...breathe...we're not going down that road again #if I could scrub that film's existence from my mind I would #just look at the pretty Bai Yu and breathe

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outerbxnks · 5 years ago

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runaway kook - jj maybank

word count: 2.3k

pairing: jj maybank x reader

warnings: bad writing? nothing serious.

a/n: my first imagine in so long, and first of this blog! please let me know what you think, and requests are open <3

requested: n/a

you stood off to the side of the party, scowling as you watched the mechanic-like movements of the people dancing around you. you were used to these sorts of events, but they never got easier to tolerate. usually, at least, you’d have a friend to hang around with. here, you had no one. you were forced to suffer alone.

you’d just recently moved from the mainland to the outer banks on account of your father’s business. he wanted to branch out to further customers, hence why you were forced to suddenly pack up and leave behind the life you knew. even more so to your disadvantage, your move took place during the summer, so you hadn’t had a chance to meet anyone yet. with your father’s connections, your family were invited to an event a short time after you’d arrived; the (supposedly) infamous midsummer’s party.

hence why you were currently standing alone, simply observing the various faces passing by as they swayed to the classical music being played. you didn’t need to talk to any of them to know the kind of people they were, you could see it in their faces. stuck up, rich, self-absorbed. you knew the type all too well. you also knew you were probably going to have to befriend them, and the thought alone made you want to gag.

you were lost in your thoughts when a small tap on your shoulder shook you from your daydream. you turned to see a girl around your age, her blonde hair cascading gently down her back and a beautiful flower crown situated delicately on her head. “excuse me, are you y/n?” she smiled kindly, and your distaste for everyone around you disappeared momentarily.

you took a second to assess her. she seemed genuine, and you had a feeling she wasn’t like the others. it was quite easy to force a smile and fake kindness, and it was actually very common for people of your social class to do so. however, over time you’d learned to notice when someone was lying - and she wasn’t, or may she was just really good at lying. regardless, you knew you would have to make friends eventually, so after a moment you offered a polite smile and replied, “that’s me.”

“it’s nice to meet you, y/n! i’m sarah cameron, your father and mine are associates.” she beamed, making a small face at the end of her sentence. you gave her a questioning glance, and she leaned close, her voice no louder than a whisper in your ear. “sorry, they’re watching. gotta be on our best behaviour.” she tilted her head backwards and you subtly glanced in that direction, seeing your father next to a man, presumably sarah’s father, and watched as they both looked away at your gaze.

you shook your head with an amused smile, just as the music shifted into a more upbeat tune. sarah seemed to brighten at this, turning to face you excitedly. “care to dance?” she offered you a hand, quirking a brow. you smirked, taking her hand and setting down your drink, allowing her to lead you out into the crowd.

the two of you began dancing carelessly, and you couldn’t help but enjoy yourself. something about her made you feel comfortable, maybe it was because she understood you. you were mid-spin when sarah sharply turned, letting go of your hand and causing you to stumble. you barely managed to catch yourself, looking up to see sarah talking to a server. you watched curiously as he passed her a note and talked to her in hushed whispers. her face suddenly lit up in realization, and you were so caught up in watching her that you didn’t see the boy backing up until he walked right into you, sending you tumbling to the ground.

“shit, are you okay?” he cursed, reaching out a hand for you to help you up. you groaned, placing your hand in his and allowing him to pull you to your feet. he began to look you over, shamelessly checking you out. “well, hello there.” he flirted, and your cheeks warmed up significantly. he was attractive, you couldn’t deny that. the suit he was wearing complimented his figure (very) nicely, but you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of knowing that.

“perv.” you muttered instead, forcing yourself to look away. he gasped in mock offence, holding a hand over his heart dramatically. he opened his mouth to retort, when a few boys marched over, grabbing him by the shoulder and aggressively swinging him around, getting in his face. you backed away, and before you knew it he took off running, and the other boys were chasing him through the building. you stood there, in shock for a moment. you quickly snapped out of it and spun around hopelessly looking for sarah, or for anyone that could help him, but no one seemed at all phased by the situation.

you looked around in a panic, when you spotted a security guard. not knowing what more you could do, you begged him to check the room you’d seen the group run into. he had rolled his eyes at you, but agreed and told you to wait outside, you doing so hesitantly. those guys who were following him - the boy whose name you realized, you still didn’t know - looked absolutely terrifying. sure, you could handle yourself against some rich assholes but you were severely outnumbered and decided it was best to stay put.

you paced anxiously and jumped when the security guard came storming out of the room, but much to your surprise the server was the one being dragged out by the collar. “hey, what are you doing with him?” you called out, and though the guard ignored you, the boy looked back, an expression of surprise on his face when he saw you waiting outside. he smirked, shooting you a quick wink before he was dragged outside. you followed the two, wanting to make sure he was alright, at the very least.

you saw him struggling against the guard as you walked out, and he began making a scene. “i see you got your drink! good, that’s really nice of you. i’m actually gonna down that.” he snached the drink right out of the older man’s hand and chugged it, and you were shocked, and slightly in awe. you’d wanted many times to act out at one of these formal events, but you couldn't ever bring yourself to do such a thing. you were enjoying the scene in front of you however, probably a bit more than you should.

he began yelling, catching the attention of everyone in the club. “it’s okay everybody! do not panic. let’s leave it to the men and women in uniform!” you glanced around, finally catching sarah’s gaze. you subtly motioned towards the boy, as if questioning her about his actions; she only shrugged in response, and you turned your attention back to him. he was still being forced out, though you didn’t have the courage to follow him, not with your father who was standing only a short distance away.

“let go of him!” a sudden voice called out, and a beautiful girl with her hair tied up beautifully into a bun stepped out of the crowd. “you can’t just boot him! i invited him here, i’m a member of this club!” she argued, and despite the protests of the people around her, she continued defending the blonde boy.

suddenly he shoved away the guard, and gasps were heard all around. “sorry about that!” he smiled, turning to the girl. “hey, mandatory power hour at rixon’s, kie!” he was walking out now, “pope, you as well, alright? rixon’s cove - let’s roll.” you had to admit, him acting out was really hot. the urge to step out was too great and you gave in, walking directly into his line of sight. he saw you and smirked, eyeing you up and down, then pointed directly at you. “new girl, you should come too. alright, guys! c’mon!”

you watched as the girl who defended him, kie, quickly escaped her protesting parents and watched as the other boy, pope, had as well. it looked liberating. you didn’t even know them, but one quick glance at your father’s warning expression was enough for you to give in and run after them, laughing as you heard the desperate calls of your parents behind you. surely you’d regret this later, but hell, you’d been dreaming of this your whole life, you weren’t letting the opportunity slip away so easily.

you met up with them, and the mysterious boy dramatically bowed, offering you his hand and you took it with a mocking curtsey. you both laughed and you allowed him to pull you to wherever it was you were going. it was then that you realized you actually had no idea where that was, but you figured anything was better than a party full of rich snobs, and besides, you couldn’t exactly back out now.

there was a worn-down looking van parked outside, and the group piled in, you hesitating momentarily. “hey new girl, you coming or what?” he teased, and all eyes fell on you. you never backed down from a challenge, so against your better judgment, you climbed inside, situating yourself with your back to the passenger seat in which pope had occupied. kie slid the door closed behind you, and you pulled out onto the road, a series of cheers arose from the group.

kie turned to you, a curious expression on her face. “so, what’s your name, newbie?” she asked, smirking deviously. it was a bit intimidating, and you straightened your body at her intense gaze.

“y/n.” you answered simply, and you became hyper-aware of everyone’s attention being on you. an awkward silence followed, and you weren’t really sure what else to say, so you cleared your throat. “what about you guys?”

she glanced at you up and down, sizing you up. a moment later she smiled, offering a hand. “i’m kiara, but call me kie.” you took it graciously, returning the smile. “that’s pope, and john b in the front.”

“nice to meet you guys.” you responded, feeling much more at ease. you turned curiously towards the boy who had consumed your thoughts for the entirety of the night. “and what about you? what’s your name, lover boy?” you flirted casually, having gained confidence.

“jj, you mean to tell me you invited someone to run away with us without even having told her your name?” pope asked, confusion written all over his face. he looked at you through the mirror, “and you followed someone and got in a car with him and his friends without even knowing his name? what if we were kidnapping you!” he exclaimed, and you laughed at his words, because they were very much true.

“hey, kidnapping sounds better than sticking around those jerks at the club.” you joked, and everyone agreed, and soon kiara, pope and john b took off in their own conversation, causing you to smirk at jj. “jj huh? cute name. what does it stand for?”

“you and i don’t know each other that well, sweetheart.” he winked, and you felt like you died a little inside at the pet name, but forced yourself not to show him the effect he had on you.

“fine. maybe you’re not a perv.. but you’re a shit server, by the way.” you commented airily, smiling innocently as he scoffed.

“i’m going to take the fact you don’t think i’m a perv as a compliment and choose to ignore you insulting my top notch serving skills.” he shot you a wink, and you rolled your eyes in response, falling into a comfortable silence before kie turned to you, breaking it.

“so y/n, tell us your story.” she pried, leaning forward in anticipation. you shrugged, taking a moment to think.

“not sure what to say, honestly. my dad’s a businessman, he wanted to “expand his horizons” with his customers and next thing you know, we’re packing up everything and moving here.” you explained, and she nodded thoughtfully.

“why come with us then?” her questions were merely fueled by genuine curiosity, and you were happy to answer.

“why not? look at the club, it’s filled with preppy, narcissistic assholes who flaunt their money and constantly fight over who has the biggest house. i can’t stand those people, and i never understood the whole superiority thing. it’s annoying and honestly, so unattractive.” you rolled your eyes, and the group laughed at your comment.

“look at us boys, sounds like we’ve got ourselves a kook princess gone rogue.” she spoke proudly, a smirk on her face.

“what’s a kook?” you asked, tilting your head slightly in confusion. the group laughed, and kie spoke up again.

“those who live on figure 8, with their extremely overpriced properties and huge egos. basically everyone you saw at the club, that’s a kook.” kie explained, and you groaned, affirming you indeed fit into that category. “don’t worry though. you seem cool, you can hang with us.”

“wait, really?” you lit up at her words, looking around at the boys, all who nodded in agreement. your gaze lingered on jj, who seemed a bit relieved. you imagined things would not have gone so well had you actually been happy with the “kook” lifestyle.

“yeah, you can hang with us..” john b spoke for the first time, and you arched a brow, silently asking him to continue. “if you can keep up.” he winked, and kie scoffed at him, shoving him lightly. you smiled at the group around, perfectly content.

“can i ask a question?” you spoke up hesitantly, and kie nodded, encouraging you to continue. “if i’m considered a kook, what does that make you guys?”

the group shared a quick laugh, before jj decided to speak up this time. “oh please, princess. you’re no kook, you’re one of us now. you better like it, cause you can’t shake us that easily.” you rolled your eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile off of your face at his words. “and to answer your question…”

“welcome to the pogue life, y/n.”

#jj x reader #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #outer banks x reader #kie x reader #pope x reader #john b x reader #outer banks imagines #outer banks imagine #jj maybank imagine #kiara x reader #jj imagine #john b imagine #kie imagine #pope imagine

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popculturebuffet · 4 years ago

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Ducktales Final Four: Beaks in the Shell! or JESUS WEPT!

This.. this is a big occasion for me. It’s a return to regular Ducktales coverage.. but it’s also the first episode of the LAST four of the series. It was thanks to Ducktales my blog got a following, first through in character chat things, then through my reviews of this very season. It was starting this last year that took my blog from something I was passionate abbout but did ocassionaly to a vital part of my being and my source of income via one lucky boy who just wont’ let me stop! I kid of course, I thank kev for it, though i’d gladly welcome any other review comissions from you fine folks and fit them into the schedule. There’s a page on my blog for how and if your on mobile you can simply send me an ask or submit to ask about comissiong an episode or episodes of an animated shwo you like and i’ll give you my prices and what not. But it’s thanks to these Kev started comissioning in the first place and thanks to you all clicking on these reviews every week I do them that kept me doing them early on. So I wanted to thank you all.

Covering the last four episodes is really bittersweet for me. It’s not the end for ducks here: I have most of seasons 1 and 2 to cover, and will be covering a lot of season 1 next month so I can properly cover shadow war for my Lena retrospective, not to mention continuing to cover life and times when I have the space, various birthdays, including Carl Barks Next Month!, and so on and so on. But this is not only the first show I covered on a weekly basis but it’s the first show i’ve covered like that to end. To put it in perspective, Loud House won’t be leaving until it WANTS to and even then nick will probably prepare a second spinoff to follow it up in some form, Amphibia has both the rest of season 2 to go, starting next month!, and a third season renewal meaning while that probably WILL be it i’ll have had two full seasons to cover by the time it’s over, and I went into Close Enough FULLY expecting it not to make it past season 1 as it’s long and harried production cycle lead me to belivie Time-Warner was just going to dump it on HBO Max and be done with it.. and to my utter and everlasting delight the opposite has happened: It didn’t just get renewed but it’s become one of HBO Max’s most popular shows, the flagship of it’s adult animation lineup, and been given THREE more seasons, two of which are coming very soon, and likely will get as many as it wants for the forseable future.

The point is.. I went into covering Ducktales expecting at least one more season and genuinely not knowing if i’d make it thorugh covering this one, and once this started to really work out for me, to the point from doubting i’d EVER be able to set up a Patreon to having one that nets me ten dollars a month, feel free to contribute if you enjoy these reviews even a buck a month helps, honest. Plus thanks to that ten bucks a month i’ll be covering the five part 87 Ducktales pilot in April and if you get it up to ten i’ll cover super ducktales. But I wouldn’t even had one without these reviews giving me something to start with, and I figured they’d be around for a few more years, at least one more season. I didn’t think the show would just.. end with this season and while the season IS a proper final season of the show, wrapping up arcs, introducing long overdue cast additions, giving us the biggest and best overarching plot thus far.. a good final season dosen’t make it hurt any less. But as a wise Synthizoid once said...

It hurts it’s going.. I wasn’t prepared for it.. but it’s giving us one hell of a last act, and if this episode is any indication, just because the end is in sight dosen’t mean the last few eps before the finale are phoning it in. This is the end... so now i’ve got my emotional stuff and the weight behind it out of the way, for now i’m defintely going to be bawling come the finale and I’m not ashamed, we can dive into the begining of the end. Counting down.. because really when else am I going to get to use this...

We’re at four and under the cut it’s beaks in the shell. Let’s get dangerous.

We open with a crime in progress as Gandra is stealing a thing for FOWL and Fenton has shown up on the scene to stop her as you’d expect.. along with Huey the boy wonder! He’s finally Fenton’s Sidekick!

Seriously it’s just so sweet to see this little payoff, to see Huey, after talking about it and clearly wanting to assit Fenton however he can, actually participate. Granted he dosen’t have an armor, yet, of his own, but still he’s been through enough stuff to be helpful> plus, Gyro’s reaction to Fenton trying to ge the resources for another gizmosuit was...

Gandra trips up his wheel, and im with 87 Scrooge in Ducktales Remastered, which I finally got to play recently! Horay!, what WAS gyro thinking with that design. Regardless she gets away, and our heroes return the loot off screen. Good day’s crime fighting.

Except something’s off with Fenton as he’s been working extra late lately and lying to both Gyro and Ma’Ma about it with both suspcious, Gyro because he dosen’t like not knowing things and especially not knowing what his former intern’s up to because he’s a bit of a control freak.. and because he probably can’t go visit his new clone farm and work on speeding up the process of his replacement bodies after moonvasion used em all up without Fenton finding out as he’d tell Scrooge and Scrooge would be like “Stop playing God in ways that could get me a steep fine!”. It’d be a whole thing. The fact Fenton’s also using their now shared intern in Manny and neither is telling him why probably isn’t helping and i’ts only that workplace harassment seminar that keeps him from trying to strangle either of them again. That and Manny dosen’t have a neck.

Ma’Ma is more upset that not only is he lying to her again, more on that later, but .. that she’s figured out he has a new girlfriend and understandably thinks there’s some dark reason he’s not telling her, and unlike Gyro turns out she’s two for two. I mean she is a detective while Gyro is more worried about his clone army, his man horse and his robot son. I mean the last two are valid but still Mama just has to worry about her job and her socially awkward adult son. She has more time to focus on this.

But yes, not only is Fenton seeing someone.. but it’s Gandra again. A bit abrubt but honestly this isn’t the first Fenton episode to move his life fast.. and frankly i’m more lenient on final seasons, or seasons INTENDED to be the last ones in terms of offscreen stuff, as your trying to get everything you can wrapped up in the span of 13-24 episodes depending on how lucky you get, if not less. Sometimes you just gotta use a reveal and some exposition to hurry things along and if presented right it works.. and here it is a while the summary for this episode spoiled the reveal, i’ts still subtly dramatic that not only has hef ully forgiven her.. but their together.. despite the fact she still works for fowl. Wuh-oh. After the credits we get an idea of what their working on, as Fenton used the gizmoduck suit to enter some kind of VR scape. This is the Gizmoscape! It’s a vast virtual reality landscape.. that looks like a fancy version of the VR Interface from community. Marble pillars, flowing water falls. Though ironically enough Jim Rash’s character is NOT a part of it and despite Fenton suggesting letting him in to help with their glitch problem she’s reluctant as it’s THEIR baby and she wants it to be perfect first before they allow other people in. Though i’m also sure part of it is that Gyro would start screaming JESUS WEPT! over and over.

Meanwhile Mark Beaks is having a big flashy press confrence to announce the new Waddlephone. Only a 50% chance of exploding! And that’s not my dig at Samsung but the shows as that’s really Beaks sales pitch. Unsuprisingly only one VERY bored looking nerd is there at the confrence. As for why he’s finally fallen so low part of it is explalined in the episode: His attempted thefts of the Gizmoduck suit have gotten stale. As the bored nerd puts it he’s tried to steal it four times already, two that we’ve seen but i’m VERY unsuprised he’s tried again off screen. He’s made it PAINFULLY clear he has no ideas of his own, constantly steals them, and the public’s tired of it. As for why it took THIS LONG.. this is sadly realistic. As the throngs of “hardcore gamers” defending Cyberpunk 2077 before it was released can attest to, internet nerd culture can often be toxic, stupid and defend big personalities even when they’ve CLEARLY done something terrible as long as their doing something they like. Beaks was clearly pilfering enough good products and doing enough antics on social media to still be liked and for them to ignore his blanat and douchey crimes and had enough money on him during said crimes to walk away from it.

Problem is.. while people can be awful and defend someone despite them not deserving their loyality, being a douche in public and doing VERY terrible things.. you have to have something to earn that loyalty. Waddle had that at first iwth project ta-dah, Waddleduck, various aps i’m sure... but it’s clear from context by this point Beaks has nothing left and no cult of personality to insulate him. Unlike say Bill Gates or Jeff Bezos he dosen’t HAVE some big product to mask his shadier wealth hoarding actions, he just has rampat supervilian attempts to steal someone else’s power armor and a hired hyjacking to get back at his cold unloving mother. Even when he does supervillian stuff like that.. he can’t be bothered to do it originally. The public will, and very sadly, defend you from terrible stuff, we’ve seen it with people supproting Gina Carano even though she’s actively spreading harmful disnfermation and then had the GALL to compare herself to jews hiding from the nazis, and one journalist trying to defend her had the gall to compare this to the hollywood blacklisting if the 50′s instead of you know, someone who woudln’t shut up about harmful dangerous shit finally getting fired for using teh platform said job provided to spread said harmful dangerous shit about masks and the vacine. But if you have nothing to offer.. thieri just going to forget you and move on. He has nothing to offer so they’ll gladly gravitate to some other jackass who can at leasat given them a neat phone instead of trying to steal a superhero suit for the 8th time. Mark realizes if he can’t steal something soon.. he’ll be forced to go with the Nuclear option: MAKE SOMETHING HIMSELF.

Back at Fenton’s toilet lab, Huey finds Fenton having some cyber makeouts with Gandra... which translates to him kissing the air and Huey feeling evne more awarkd than usual. As for why Huey’s here despite it being late, he got a piece of Gandra’s nanotech during the robbery and figures they can track her. Fenton is.. less than enthused about that for obvious reasons but things soon get worse for our hero as our other hero notices the linkup. And while sidekicks are a good thing in my eyes; They allow young heroes to get proper training, help nuture their talents and prevent assholes from telling them to stop it instead of you know helping them. It’s.. a more common trope than you think let me tell you.

But Fenton’s discovered the Downside is they can show up anytime, want to hunt your criminal girlfriend down not knowing the full story, and if their a genius like you, figure out what your up to with no effort and really want to try it. Seriously Huey’s almost as smart as you Fenton and will no doubt surpass you one day, this was a matter of when not if and you shouldv’e been more prepared. But Huey wants to try, and while Fenton tries deflecting since he only has the gizmoduck helmet and it only works for him now... Manny comes in with a bunch of vr rigs and Huey dives in. Naturally, Huey soon running directly into Gandra dosne’t go great.. and given this is huey his natural instinct is to have a panic attack over his best friend, mentor and the only person besides maybe his family, boyfriend and girlfriend that really gets him possibly betraying him and his entire family. Gandra is of course mad Fenton invited someone in when she didn’t want that, and even more someone whose clearly not happy with her and will likely tell on them because that’s basic hue-man nature.

Fenton explains he didn’t ask for this, so we get easily the best part of the episode: Gandra’s solution to the child having a mental breakdown.. is to summon a weighted blanket and throw it over him, which Huey mistakes for a trap and she explains helps with Anxiety.. and while he struggles.. it really does. Damn gotta get me one of those. Also while his Autisim remains vauge, likely on puprose, Huey having anxiety disorder, while obvious before, is now 100% confirmed.

So now he’s calm, though his Anxiety meter shows he’s still not happy and Gandra doubts he’ll listen, Fenton can at least try and explain: The two have been seeing each other and working on this in secret.. but it has NOTHING to do with FOWL other than Gandra embezzling resoruces to make it happen. Gandra also explains why the project is so important to her and Fenton via her own backstory: Super Science is a dangerous, unrpedictable field and accidents happen a lot, and given people tend to hate what they don’t understand, hence why the X-Men founded their own island after getting spat on one too many times, it often gets an unfair bad wrap.. and she shows she’s had to put up with this her whole life, making an intresting lazer thing as a kid that lost to a volcano and getting glared at for it accidently destroying said volcano. And as an adult due to her work’s dangerous and experimental nature, no one would take a chance on it and like many a super villian she had to experiment on herself. It’s also why she worked for Beaks last season and works with FOWL now, only supervillians with thier grandiose ambitions and lack of care for property damage would fund her.

That’s part, at least, of why this is so very important to her: The Gizmoscap eprovides an invorment where scientests and others can experiment unabated, where the only limit is imagination and those glitches they keep having and any accident can be frozen , dragged and dropped away with no damage. There’s no risk but all the reward and they plan to give it out for free, to let the public use this and let the world grow from it.

It also fills in a lot of Gandra’s character and gives weight to her last apperance: Her working with Beaks, while hypocritical, now has a tragic edge as he was simply the only one who’d fund her work. Her hatred of Fenton’s corprroate job and people like Scrooge.. is that in general billionares like him usually aren’t good people, and even SCrooge has his clear faults, and she assumed he was just making Fenton shut up and do things just to beniefit him and make him more money.. when Scrooge was instaead paying him to do a genuine public service as gizmoduck, and gives him and Gyro a LOT of leway and a pretty bottomless budget and only turns things down if their way too dangeorus for public release. The tragedy here is if she’d gone to Scrooge.. she never would’ve had to work for FOWL. He wouldd’ve genuinely supported her and likely given her a full ride and a spot in the lab of her own, maybe as an intern but probably on her own merit given how game changing her tech is and how he of all people understands a ballance of risk and reward. It turns her from a very hypcoriticla techie who works with the very people she scorns.. to someone who has no choice and desperatley wants out. And this is her way out: something new and bold that’, while not hers alone as Fenton co created it, could change the world and make it safe for people like her to do what they do without ridcule, scorn or risk. It’s everything she could’ve dreamed of and more and once it’s done she promises to leave fowl and as the end of the episode bares out, and as her tone makes clear, she’s genuine about it. She also TRULY does love fenton and vice versa and both are desspearte for Huey to keep a lid on things from Gyro till it’s ready, as she rightfully worries if it gets out unfisnished they’ll just be mocked agian. Naturally being a good soft boy Huey is now entirely on board, because he loves science, and he loves love and this is both. And frankly given what we saw way back in Astro BOYD... .he knows more than anyone what its like to be laughed at and mocked for being diffrent and simply being smart. And even though his family lvoes him.. only one member is as smart as him in the same way, his mom whose still a very diffrent person, and it wasn’t till this season he really got to connect with people his own age like him. And both Violet and BOYD could benifit form this.. everyone could. So he’ll keep it secret for now. This proves problematic as both Gyro AND Mama are there and both have questions. And while Huey ducks gyro, Mama.. interrogates a small child who she’s defintely met and likely knows has anxiety over something as trivial as her son having a secret girlfrined. You.. you guys might’ve wanted to remove this bit given last year. I”m just saying. Does not play well. The most Huey can come up with is a girlfriend in Canada which fenton plays along with... but given neither her nor gyro are really buying into things, though Mama has a check done on seamstresses in canada just in case because this bit was clearly written years ago and not rerecorded for whatever reason, Huey uses little bulb to fake a gizmo emergency so Fenton can get out of there, go home and work on this himself while Huey stalls and lies. But since his best on the fly lie was “a girlfriend in canada”, which is somehow worse than “who’s Dewey”, and while our boy is many things: excellent at opera, a good friend, a wonderful wingman, excellent at setting a mood, a good son, great at panic attacks, a genius, an expert woodchuck, knowledgeble on quantum mechanics.. the list goes on lying is not one of those things and he seems to be in a pickle.

Meanwhile Mark is struggling to create, can relate, because he’s entirely creatively sterile. And that’s probably why out of Scrooge’s foes.. he stopped being a threat. He has no vision. And while true the Beagle BOys also don’t besides steal stuff and maybe get our deed back, that’s by design as Ma knows they can’t take scrooge or gizmoduck so why cry. Stick to petty crimes and stuff he isn’t aware of or dosen’t care about. But Magica and Glomgold do. Magica is cunning, if not subtle, and manipulative and when on full blast horrifyingly powerful, and it took everything Clan McDuck had to stop her at full, and she still nearly won without any powers when she came back, and even if Lena can keep her in check now, she still GOT her powers back and got her new arch enemy to defeat her old one. Glomgold while only slightly more comipitent than beaks, and even then VERY slightly, he at least has vision. His schemes are entirely stupid.. but he dosen’t stop coming up with them. They may be his first draft but damn if they aren’t entertaining and damn if one or two haven’t WORKED. Simply stealing a few cents from scrooge and gaslighting him in a devil costume NEARLY drove him insane and cost him his fortune. Beaks.. has no ideas. He has ambiation.. but it’s to steal the same tech that even if he got it, he woudln’t know what to do with. The ONLY time he’s been a full on threat has been using someone else’s scheme, that Gandra clearly came up with and STILL required piggybacking on the gizmo suit. He has nothing and while it was fine for a while.. eventually h’es left iwth nothing. Glomgold at least has money, magica at least has power... Beaks HAD both.. but had no idea what to properly do with it and now is on his last legs. Even his idea for a coffee cups with aps is taken because of course “even the dumbest ideas are taken”, this is america. Making dumb shit for rich morons is our primary export. But he sees the fleeing fenton, has a breakdown and declares FINE if that’s what fate wants i’ll steal the armor I’LL STEAL THE ARMOR ALL DAY.

So Fenton heads home to recharge in both senses of the word, and to tell Gandra the timetable’s moved and Huey can hold them only so long. And he seems to be wrong as Huey confidently prepares to answer their questions.. but is seemingly thrown when we get the real reason Mama is so upset: She’s just worried and still a bit hurt from Fenton not feeling he could tell her he was gizmoduck and it breaks her heart that her son feels he has to hide from her again. However while this is genuinely sad and emotional.. the reason he’s thrown is it’s NOT huey, but Louie, whose a bit miffed as he DIDN’T know Fenton was Gizmoduck, and can’t properly bullshit without full info. it’s also really nice that bit FINALLY came up as the rest of the four main kids have known for a while now. But Huey convincnes him to do it.. for 6 months allowance. Frankly the real shocker here is that they actually GET an allowance.

However Mama.. is again a cop. One who REALLY needs to rethink her ethics.. but a cop, and the best one on the force, and thus has easily guessed this is not Huey, and given she’s probably ran into his schemes before, figures out which one he’d bring in to buffer for him and easily gets rid of Louie by asking him to tur informant on himself, since the REAL Huey would under pressure and Louie instead flees in terror not wanting to get arrested and leaves both the lab and the episode. Though I’m pretty sure i know where he went

So yeah things are not great and only get worse, as Mark breaks into fentons house via the open window and upon finding out abotu the Gizmoscape naturally plans to hack into it and take it for himself. Before he does Fenton talks to Gandra and admits they may have to let other people in and we get another reason: She’s worried she’s not good enough. He reassures her.. and this tender moment is interupted by Beaks who imprisons them, hyjacks fenton’s security system aka a gizmo armor, and while still a creatively sterile douche, does have a decent if horrifically scummy way to profit all of this: use the open coloabreation concept to get the legal right to steal all this and say it’s his.

Fenton bemaons the fact that Gandra was right, one bad apple spoiled the bunch and unveling it too qiuckly would’ve gone bad as she feared.. but Gandra’s grown and realizes Fenton was also right, and that they needed more people. While the wrong people can ruin a project, collaboration can help, finding perspectives you didn’t see and helping fine tune ideas. Huey, whose collapsed at Fenton’s due to the exustion of lying, wakes up to find Beaks crimes and being unable to just unplug him, as while Beaks is VERY dumb, even he’s not THAT stupid. But Fenton gets out an SOS over morse to tell everyone So Huey does.. and the calvary arrives, as Huey enters the Gizmoscape with Mama and Gyro. And while Mama is pleased to realize she’s right about the girlfirend thing they don’t really have time for that, so once Huey explains the basic concept, he uses it himself to give himself GIZMO ARMOR. AT LAST.

He also has extra long legs, because of course, just.. of course. Naturally Beaks steals it, and everyone else takes a stab at their own gizmotech armor: Mama daawns a stunning police themed one, Gyro goes for a bulb mecha based on the giant version of little bulb from the great dime chase, an idea brought up by LB, and Gandra goes for a sleek tron esque nanotech number. Beaks take sa bit from each and our heroes wonder how to beat him.. but Fenton realizes that’s simple: Beaks can only copy and steal... they can create. And Gandra uses this against him by pointing that out so he drops his super armor.. to look like Andross from Starfox.. which shows that EVEN when trying to come up with a cool final boss form... Beaks has to steal from something. The rest of the Gizmo Corps, my name for them I own that, Gizmo Legion would also be good, after Iron Man’s iron Legion, suit back up and kick beaks ass as a team. I smell second spinoff.. or first if darkwing ends up hyjacked by Seth Rogen.. who I have nothing agianst he’s just not the one who put in the work for a reboot.

So our heroes win in an awesome sequence, seirously spinoff and Beaks is knocked the fuck out and presumibly will FINALLY go to jail for good to this as he can get away from a lot but directly breaking into an officer’s house and stalking her son, they can omit the gizmopart and even if Fenton went public.. no one would care and he and Mama can take care of htemselves, as can Huey, Gyro, Gandra and Manny, so it’s not like anyones in danger. Beaks is well and truly defeated: he has no idea, an imminet jail sentence, and no one to back him up. Fenton’s finally got the little boil off his back

So now the big fight is over, Gyro can actually process the Gizmoscape.. and is genuinely impressed.. he tries to hidei t because of course he does.. but it’s clear for someone who himself has constnatly been called crazy and had his ideas blow up.. this is paradise to him. a place where he won’t be judged and has unlimtied funds to experiment with his ideas without having to get yelled at when they destroy a city block or nearly choked to death by his own robot son, daughter or nonbinary person. He also easily fixes the problem and proves Fenton right for wanting to include him, as he points out they hadn’t been DELETING anything, simply downsizing it and it naturally caused stress on the server. Fenton talks about Gandra and defneeds her to Mama.. whose just happy he’s happya nd someone can take her son. Alls well that ends well right.

Final Thoughts: So this was a... wait.. why are we cutting back to fowl.. why is bradford there.

Yeah turns out megalmanoical diabolical msterminds kinda monitor their employees so he knew she intended to quit and stole resources, and while she plans to leave, he simply calls in a bunch of eggheads who overwhelm her with sheer numbers and has her fined two weeks pay.. and taken to the lost library to indefintely lock her up. What’s that she asks “You have your secrets, I have mine”

So yeah a bit of a downer ending

Actual Final Thoughts:

This was an excellent capper to Fenton’s character arc. While the Gandra relationsihp is a bit rushed the rest is a masterful capper to his character arc: This episode shows off how he’s changed from EVERY one of his previous three focus episodes, while a major part of astro boyd and how he got his docterate it dosne’t quite contribute to his character arc, and grown from them: From beware the buddy system! he’s learned to colaberate properly and taken his desire to WORK with other people, like he always did with Gyro but was constnatly shut out, and found a proper and brilliant way to that allows people like him, gyro, gandra and huey to really express themselvs. He’s grown from a niave rookie trusting the wrong people in who is gizmoduck.. to someone whose STILL fully trusting despite constant betryals, but now knows who to trust, and an experinced hero who once freed easily counters his nemisis. And finally from Dangerous Chemistry, he’s finally got a ballance in his life: inastead of running from gizmo or treating his alter ego as something else.. he’s found a way to use the gizmotech for science, and FINALLY found his world changing invention one so good and so practical even his mentor, despite trying to walk it back, is genuinely proud of him and genuinely in awe.

Every step lead to his happy ending.. well okay his girlfriend still needs to be freed from her insane ex-boss, but that’s just a few episodes away. Fenton has everything he wanted when he started: his boss finally respects him and treats him as an equal, his mom not only knows who he is but is proud and supportive of him, he has a loving partner creatively and romantically.. and a best friend who while a good two decades younger, is there for him and who he genuinely apologizes too for putting so much on him. LIke all the endings so far this season.. it feels like a throughly satisfying end to the journey we’ve been following. This fits in nicely with Penny realizing earth could be her home and that she dosen’t have to constnatly fight to have a purpose, Lena finally accepting magic instead of running from it and thus gaining peace of mind and power to stop her former abuser from hurting anyone else, Goldie finally accepting how much she cars about Scrooge and his family and that she CAN change... all of this, except penny obviously has been built up through three seasons and while I DEFINTLY could see frank and matt returning to all of them.. i’ts nice to get some closure. It feelsd earned and impressive. The episode is also.. REALLY fucking funny, from the weighted blanket gag to Beaks in general, to Huey yelling at fenton about Mama “She somehow broke Louie!”. It’s a masterful and throughly satisfying end to Fenton’s story. And again we’ll likely see him in the finale but character arc wise.. its a good place to end his.

Next Week: FINALLY, AFTER 10,000 YEARS, IT’S THE TAILSPIN EPISODE. OWEEOOO, OWEEHHHH.

Tommorow: We return to the noiry furry world of John Blacksad as everyone’s favorite panther detective battles white supremacists to find a missing girl and we’re introduced to your faviorite sidekick and mine Weekly.

Later on this week: The Lena retrospective continues with Jaw$, we celebrate Tex Avery’s birthday, and I tackle the awful original tom and jerry movie.

So if any of that tickles your fancy see you at the next rainbow

#ducktales #beaks in the shell!#beaks in the shell #fenton crackshell cabrera #gandra dee #huey duck #mark beaks #gyro gearloose #mama cabrera #little bulb #manny the headless manhorse #gizmoduck #ducktales spoilers

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