#more bad things eleanor did

[sesamestreep]

Don/Sloan, 20

20. I’ve been looking sad in all the nicest places (from this prompt list) I don’t know what this is, honestly. I wrote a whole other fill for this prompt and decided I hated it and couldn’t finish it, then wrote this instead in like half a day. I don’t know. It’s a Good Place AU, I have next to nothing for it built out besides this snippet, that’s basically it. much love and bone apple teeth or whatever…

Sloan is on her fifth straight minute of willing her legs to work and take her back to the party—her own damn party, for Christ or whoever’s sake, she’s not really sure at this point—when someone nearly trips over her. In their defense, she is sort of hiding behind a topiary in a dark corner of the lawn, so there was no way they could have seen her, but she still finds it in herself to be annoyed.

“Could you please watch where you’re going?” she exclaims.

“Uh, sorry,” the man says, fumbling with something in his hands. “Though I don’t really see how it’s my fault that you’re sitting on the ground, in the dark. You’re basically asking to be tripped over.”

Sloan’s legs work just fine then. She stands up, straight as a pin, and throws her shoulders back, getting ready for some variation of the “I’d like to speak with your manager!” conversations she had almost daily back when she was alive.

“Here’s a tip for you,” she says, instead, with as much indignation as possible, “don’t go around accusing women of ‘asking for it’.”

The man winces. “Yeah, I heard it as soon as it was out of my mouth. That was, uh, poor form.”

The easy admission of wrongdoing shouldn’t surprise her here, where she’s allegedly surrounded by the best people ever, but it still somehow does. It helps that this guy doesn’t give the appearance of backing down from fights easily, which makes it all the more impressive that he’s doing so now.

“It’s fine,” Sloan says, backing down too. “No harm done.”

“I don’t think we’ve been introduced,” he says, holding out his hand. “I’m Don Keefer.”

“Sloan Sabbith,” she says, accepting the handshake.

“Oh, the Sloan Sabbith,” he replies, as he puts the item he’s been shuffling between his hands—a cigarette, it turns out—between his lips. He doesn’t sound impressed. She’s not sure how he sounds, but it’s probably not good.

“I suppose so.”

“This is your house,” he points out.

“Ah, yes. That Sloan Sabbith.”

“I mean, I knew you before,” Don says, and then corrects himself, “Sorry, I knew of you before. I lived in New York, when I was alive.”

“Oh, right.”

“Your name was always in the society pages.”

Sloan shrugs, not sure if humility is the right move here. She’s not certain Don would buy it. He pulls out a lighter and moves to light his cigarette.

“I guess you didn’t see the amount of fundraising I did for the American Cancer Society,” she says, frowning.

Don laughs, but he still brings the flame to the tip of the cigarette. “Sweetheart, it’s the afterlife. Lighten up.”

“I don’t like the smell.”

“Won’t be a problem,” he says, waving the hand with the cigarette between his index and middle fingers around a little bit wildly. “Neither do I. I got that robot assistant woman, uh—”

“Jenna,” Sloan interjects, over-enunciating the name for his benefit.

Jenna, of course, materializes with a soft tone at that moment, making her jump in surprise. How long does that take to get used to?

“Hi,” she says, brightly. “How can I help?”

Don looks at Sloan expectantly, and her face heats with embarrassment and irritation. She pointedly looks away, as if she hadn’t accidentally summoned the neighborhood’s virtual assistant and made a fool of herself.

“We’re good, Jenna. Thank you,” Don finally says, all charm, when it’s clear Sloan isn’t going to be helpful.

“You bet!” There’s another soft tone, slightly different, as she disappears.

“That is going to take some getting used to,” Don says, as if they’re buddies or something.

“You’ve never had an assistant before?” Sloan sniffs, aware that it’s a deeply snobby thing to say and not very concerned about it.

“Not like her.”

She whips her head around to glare at him. “Don’t be gross!”

“I meant because she’s literally omniscient,” he says, looking bored of her now. “Get your mind out of the gutter.”

“Good, because I’d hate to feel any worse for your soulmate than I already do.” Just as she’s winding up to really lay into him, she suddenly smells something strange. It smells like salt water and…something else. Something she can’t put her finger on. She steps closer to Don and inhales. “Do you—what is that?”

“I told you the smoke wouldn’t bother you,” he says, holding the cigarette aloft proudly. “When I asked Jenna for cigarettes earlier, I was worried the neighborhood would have, like, a ‘no smoking’ policy, kind of like the ‘no swearing’ thing? But she told me that, since we’re in The Good Place, the smoke wouldn’t irritate anyone, and when they smelled it, it would remind them of their most cherished childhood memory, if you can believe that.”

Sloan wouldn’t have two minutes ago but now, she’s certain she’s smelling the boardwalk in Santa Monica that she went to constantly with her family when she was young. She hasn’t been back in years, and she supposes now she never will. Suddenly, she feels tears welling in her eyes.

“Thank goodness the tobacco industry didn’t have Jenna on their side,” she says, stepping back and trying to pull herself together.

“True. Though I imagine those guys would have trouble getting into The Good Place anyway.”

“That’s a…good point.”

“So, what does the magic cigarette smoke smell like to you?” Don asks, and then shakes his head. “There’s a question I never anticipated asking anyone. Not sober, at least.”

Sloan laughs, despite herself. “It, uh, smells like the Santa Monica pier. I grew up in the Bay Area, but my cousins lived in SoCal, and we’d visit them on school breaks or vacations whenever we could. The pier was always my favorite place to go.”

When she looks up again, she finds Don smiling at her in an unguarded way she finds…unsettling. Not because it’s creepy, but because it’s familiar. She doesn’t know what that means, but she knows it’s probably a sign of trouble.

“What about you?”

“Well,” Don laughs, looking down at his shoes, “that’s sort of a funny story. You see, I gave up smoking when I was in college, after my grandad died of lung cancer. I’d like to tell you it was because I was being smart and healthy, but the truth is, the smell of the smoke reminded me too much of him. I spent a lot of my childhood with him, because both of my parents worked, so he watched me for them. He was my favorite person, and my reference point for everything, and my moral compass. After he died, it felt like I lost a piece of myself.”

Don pauses, and then shakes his head. “I don’t know why I told you all that. The important part of that story is that he, uh, smoked like a chimney and his whole house reeked of tobacco all the time. His clothes smelled like it, his car smelled like it, everything.”

“Oh, no,” Sloan says, when the penny drops for her.

“Yeah, see? You got there before me,” he says, smiling sadly. “These forking magical cigarettes, they smell like his house, his clothes, his car.”

“It just smells like tobacco to you,” she supplies, and Don nods. “And the smell reminds you of him. And it makes you sad, which is why you stopped smoking in the first place.”

“It’s like some kind of Sisyphean torture loophole,” Don says, still smoking. “You can’t make this shirt up.”

“I mean, they could,” she says, thinking of her first meeting with Will, where he had the file for her entire life, down to the most minor of details. “They’d know about you and your grandpa from your file, right? And you said that Jenna’s omniscient, so she’d know too. That’s…weird, right?”

Sloan glances over at him to find Don staring at her, not smiling this time, but with an expression of barely suppressed horror. She can tell just from the look on his face that he’s running through everything that’s happened since he got to the neighborhood in his mind and looking for more strange occurrences like that.

“Have we,” he asks, hesitantly, “met before?”

“I don’t think so,” Sloan says, but not with as much certainty as she would have a few moments ago. “You mean, when we were alive?”

“Yeah,” Don says. “I guess that’s what I mean. You just feel familiar, in some way.”

“You did say you knew my name from the press.”

“I know, but I don’t mean familiar like that. I mean, familiar like I’ve known you for a long time.”

“We just met,” she says, as firmly as she can manage, though it feels like she’s trying to convince herself it’s true too.

“So, it’s just me?” he asks, and it’s not accusatory so much as disappointed.

Sloan feels so utterly thrown by this, she can hardly cope. It doesn’t help that in backing away from him earlier, she didn’t get nearly far enough away. She can still smell the Santa Monica pier—the sunshine and the sea air and the food stalls—but she can also smell what she suspects is Don’s cologne or soap or maybe just him—this clean, warm boyish smell—and now those two things are going to swirl together in her memory forever, and she’s going to be confused why she thinks of summer vacations whenever she’s near him. Not that she will be again anytime soon, she hopes. This has been too much for her.

“I don’t know what you want from me,” she says, still too close to him and not backing away.

Don laughs, softly, and she thinks she can smell champagne on his breath. There was plenty at the party, she remembers, even though it feels like an age ago now. He doesn’t seem drunk, though.

“I don’t know what I want from you either,” he says, watching her closely. He’s not that much taller than her, so it’s pretty easy to gaze deeply into his eyes, unfortunately, and that’s what she ends up doing.

The cigarette falls from between his fingers, and lands harmlessly, already extinguished, on the grass beneath their feet. It vanishes a second later, and a daisy sprouts in its place, which figures. This place is too good to be true, she thinks, and then catches herself. Is it? Has she been thinking that all along?

She looks back up at Don to find his gaze still riveted on her face. “Something’s wrong,” she whispers.

He steps closer to her. “What is it?”

“I don’t know, but something is definitely wrong here,” she says, and it really sounds hysterical but it’s the truth. She can feel it. “Something is not right.”

“Maybe we’re just cynics,” Don offers, with a halfhearted smile.

“Maybe.” Why hasn’t she stepped away from him yet?

“We should…get back to the party.”

“My party,” Sloan says, nodding. “Yes. We should.”

“Our partners will both be looking for us, I’m sure.”

“Right. Yes.”

Neither of them moves, not even a fraction of an inch. Sloan’s hands, seemingly of their own accord, settle on the button placket of Don’s crisp white shirt. She runs a fingertip over a button. His hands come around to rest on her elbows, holding her in place.

“You do feel familiar to me,” she says, in the direction of the button, because she’s not brave enough to say it to his face. “I don’t know why. I don’t understand…how that’s possible.”

“Neither do I, but I’m not—it doesn’t feel like a bad thing, does it?”

Sloan shakes her head, and risks lifting her gaze to his again. He’s still watching her cautiously. She feels herself lean in, and then she feels him reciprocate. They’re only a breath away from kissing when they pause, and whether it’s hesitation or savoring the moment, she’s not sure. She’s watching his face for any sign of second thoughts and finds none, which gives her the courage to lean in that last bit, to close the distance between them.

“Don,” a voice calls in the distance. “Don, are you out here?”

They break apart instantly, putting a laughable amount of distance between them as quickly as possible, as Don curses under his breath. Or tries to, at least, despite the neighborhood’s swear filter.

“Don!” the voice shouts, closer now.

“Over here,” he calls back after a second.

“Where?”

“Here! Follow the….Marco!”

“Polo!”

This, thankfully, only continues for a few moments before a petite, adorable blonde woman rounds the corner. She’s wearing a sensible cocktail dress and has a drink in one hand.

“There you are!” she says. “I’ve been looking all over for you!”

“I was just getting to know our host better,” Don says, indicating Sloan with a wave of his arm in her direction.

The woman’s gaze swivels to Sloan and her expression opens up even more. “Oh my god, Sloan Sabbith, it’s so nice to meet you! You have such a nice place here!”

“Thank you,” Sloan demurs. She’s not sure how to behave around someone whose soulmate she almost just kissed. She’s not even sure there is protocol for that scenario. It’s probably just something you’re not supposed to do.

“I’m Maggie, by the way,” she says, eagerly. “I should have started with that.”

“Maggie was a professor of ethics and moral philosophy,” Don adds, draping an arm casually around her shoulders as she nestles into his side.

“Wow,” Sloan says. She wants to punch him so much.

“Oh, don’t be impressed,” Maggie says, humbly. “I’ve spent all night talking to people who are way more inspiring than me. And, obviously, my soulmate is this guy, so…”

Don makes a pained face at Maggie’s compliment, which Sloan finds both satisfying and odd. “What’s so impressive about Don?” she asks, coolly, and doesn’t miss the way his gaze flicks over to her sarcastically.

“Oh, he refuses to brag about it, but he was this super important human rights lawyer,” Maggie replies, putting a hand on his chest proudly. “I mean, if there was a cause you cared about, I’m sure he did some legal work to advance it when he was alive!”

“Sloan is a noted humanitarian and philanthropist, Maggie,” Don objects. “I doubt she’d be impressed by my work.”

“Right, sorry,” Maggie says, looking chagrined. “You’re, like, famous!”

“I guess so.”

“No wonder you ended up with Jim Harper as a soulmate! You must feel so lucky!”

“Yes, I certainly do,” Sloan says, with false cheer. She likes Jim. He’s cool. But she only just met him today. She doesn’t know where Don and Maggie get off being so coupled up and settled down already. It’s annoying.

“You guys didn’t know each other when you were alive, did you?”

“No, it’s weird. We somehow never crossed paths.”

“I loved his music when I was alive,” Maggie gushes. “I got a chance to talk to him at the party and he seems really nice!”

“He is,” Sloan insists for what feels like the tenth time. “Actually, speaking of Jim, I should probably get back to the party and, well, make sure he’s doing okay and the guests have everything they need.”

Maggie nods, enthusiastically. “Of course! It was so nice to meet you!”

“Yes,” Don says. “Very nice.”

Sloan has to concentrate very hard not to scowl at him, so she focuses most of her attention on Maggie, who she despises for totally different and completely undeserved reasons. “You too! Always a delight to meet one’s neighbors.”

“Oh, right! You should stop by our place sometime,” Maggie says. “It’s not as grand or as big as your place, obviously—”

“Nothing in the neighborhood is, as a matter of fact,” Don interjects, pointedly. Sloan’s eyes water from the effort of not glaring at him.

Maggie, meanwhile, thumps him lightly on the chest. “Don,” she says, playfully offended. Or maybe not playfully. It’s hard to tell with Maggie. Her smile is just a little too wide and bright to take at face value.

“Don’t listen to him,” she continues. “Our house is the one with the yellow door and the round window at the front, it’s just—”

“Two doors down, of course,” Sloan says graciously. “I did wonder who lived in such a cutesy little cottage and now I know!”

Maggie’s smile falters a bit, and she adopts a more serious expression. “Yes, well, I like it a lot, so…”

“I will be sure to stop by sometime,” Sloan says, trying to be more soothing. She’s a bitch, not a monster, after all.

“We’d love that,” Maggie replies. “Right, Don?”

“Absolutely,” he answers, with a thin smile in Maggie’s direction. To Sloan, he adds, with a significant look, “Don’t be a stranger!”

Sloan nods in acknowledgement and then gets out of there as quickly as possible. She has a feeling, though, that she won’t have much of a choice in terms of Don and Maggie’s invitation. For whatever reason, she suspects she might be stuck with them now.

#the newsroom #don keefer #sloan sabbith #don x sloan #they don’t have like a ship name do they?? #whatever #au #the good place au #taylor swift song prompts #prompt fill #homelywenchsociety #firstelvens #Ok so I lied because my brain wouldn’t let me write any of it without some more worldbuilding #so Don is like a mix of Eleanor and John the gossip columnist #(Because he has to be a journalist it’s the only thing that makes sense) #sloan is mostly Tahani but with a little Mindy St. Clair mixed in #(She made her money on Wall Street then felt bad and started a charity but she did it for attention or to seem good etc etc) #Maggie is Chidi because she loved that ethics guy played by Jimmi Simpson and it felt right #maybe with a little Simone thrown In for good measure #Jim is Jason/Jianyu except instead of being a monk he’s like a rock star who got too into his Beatles transcendentalist phase #and became an annoying preachy cultural appropriator who thought he made the world a better place with his music #so he’s like Jason mixed with Kamilah??? Idk #will runs the neighborhood he’s Michael #Charlie is Shawn #Jenna the intern is Janet #And Mac is like Vicky #actually mac could be Michael and will could be vicky #YOU SEE?? It gets so complicated the more I zoom out #anyway I’m not writing it!!!!!!!! I’m NOT #oh and Leona is The Judge

[marvel-snape-writes]

Hi there :) could you write something on letting snape fuck you raw for the first time and he goes feral for cumming inside you 😵‍💫 pretty please!

Our Best Worst Habit

18+ smuuuuuuuuutttttttyyyy

🪄— thank you so much for this request, I hope I did it some justice! 🫶

4k+ words

His chamber was silent. His voice was silent. His mood was foul. The atmosphere was heavy. The party was over.

Severus had been sat in his desk chair since they had returned, busying himself by reading the newspaper that had been placed on it earlier in the day and the chair pushed back enough so he could hold the paper out fully in both hands in front of him. The room was quiet enough for her to be able to hear each turn of each page and his breathing as he did it.

Though he did somewhat make her weary when he was in this state, she almost enjoyed trying to entice him out of it. Cautiously, she approached him from behind and place her hands against his shoulders, brushing the material over his shoulders as she dipped her head forward and pressing a light kiss to his ear before speaking softly, “Anything exciting in there?”

Severus’ breath hitched when he felt her hands upon his shoulders and changed completely when her lips were against his ear, nostrils flaring at her question. He looked to the side of him where her head was positioned, letting out a small huff but not speaking a single word.

“Severus?” She spoke against his neck this time, brushing her lips against his skin slowly. Severus cleared his throat irritably, his grip on the newspaper now tightening and crinkling the pages slightly, “Sev…” She spoke once more, pursing her lips against him now.

Severus didn’t speak, but the way he wafted his arm in the air and glare he gave spoke a thousand words. He let out an irritated, low growl from the back of his throat when he felt her pushing her luck once more as her lips dragged against the side of his neck whilst forming into a smirk. Calmly, though suspiciously calmly, he closed the paper and folded it in half, placing it on the desk a few inches in front of him. Silently, he raised the same arm as before but clicked his finger and thumb together this time before pointing his large index finger at the space in front of him between the chair and desk, still not saying anything.

Her breath hitched from his soundless command, standing up straight and standing where he was still pointing. Once in front of him, he lowered his hand and began taking his time devouring her body with his eyes. His lip twitched and the room remained quiet enough to just hear their breathing. His lips then began to part, their eyes meeting briefly before he snapped out of his trance as if he was suddenly reminded of a bad memory.

“Are you going to tell me why you are being so cold?” She asked, leaning back against his desk on her hands and tilting her head to the side with a cocky expression as his eyes flickered up to hers again, “What’s the matter, Severus?”

“Must you displease me all evening and then continue to do so once back in my chamber?” Severus finally spoke, though in a flat tone.

“I’m sorry?” She asked with a confused expression.

“Do not play dumb with me, Miss Eleanor,” Severus glared, “The way you behaved tonight was insufferable,” He spat, his following words lower, “With that boy.”

“Boy?” Eleanor squinted her eyes for a few moments before realising who he meant, “Oh, you mean Noah? He’s not a boy, he’s older than me!” Eleanor protested, already aware of her and Severus’ larger age difference.

“Do not speak his name in my chamber!” Severus’ usual tone raised slightly, gritting his teeth, “That boy wouldn't know the first thing to do with you.”

Eleanor rolled her eyes from his words and hopped up onto his desk, dangling her legs over the edge as he continued to ramble;

“Flicking his eyes where they were not wanted, placing his hands where they should not have been, if I really must think back to the horrific event.” He spoke in a disgusted tone, the pale glare still on his face.

“Horrific event? Really?” Eleanor rolled her eyes but Severus’ face didn't budge so she tried to continue pushing his buttons, “Anyway, who's to say that his eyes or hands weren't wanted?”

She got him. She knew when he was almost at his limit because he wouldn't shoot his sharp tongue like usual; instead, he would say nothing while his lips twitched madly as if struggling to contain all that he wanted to say in his mouth. Eleanor narrowed her eyes and discreetly parted her legs as she shuffled a little further forward to the edge of the table and discreetly enjoyed the brief moment Severus’ eyes fell to the hem of her short dress as her legs parted.

“Hm?” She smirked, now pressing her knees together as her eyes remained on him.

“That is one of the problems that were presented to me…” He cleared his throat, swallowing hard, “I was starting to think you liked him, too.”

“Yeah?” She bit her lip and reached her foot forward, placing it on the chair Severus was sat on, against the bare part from the way his legs naturally parted when he was sat… against the part of the chair that was just beneath his crotch, “You think I've taken a liking to Noah?”

“Don't you speak his name in my chamber.” He snapped, trying with every muscle in his body not to glance down at her foot, “I will not warn you again.”

“Why, hm?” She raised her eyebrows with a devilish grin, lightly pressing the tip of her shoe against his crotch, “Are you jealous, Severus?”

His jaw clenched when he felt the strange contact against his crotch and felt like a boiling kettle when he heard her question, as if steam was about to come out of his ears. He exhaled slowly and slouched a further into his chair, making her foot ride up his crotch a little further.

“I could crush you right now.” She spoke the threat in a stupidly seductive tone, teasing her heel against his crotch and lightly nudging it to emphasise each word, “Are. You. Jealous. Severus?”

He tried his best not to let any reaction show or sound pass his lips, but it only lasted a few seconds before his lips parted and let out a soft whine, narrowing his eyebrows.

“So, that's why you've been so off with me tonight?” She asked, continuing to rock her foot against his crotch and now placing her other foot on one of his thighs to keep them parted, “Giving me the silent treatment because you were jealous of me paying attention to some other guy?”

Severus’ nostrils flared and he finally snapped, pushing her feet away and standing up as he spoke, “Listen to me,” He was towering over her now as she leaned back on her hands again, “Are you listening?” He looked down at her with a dark expression.

“Oh, I am listening…” Eleanor bit her lip sensually, gazing up at him.

“If this thing is going to work-”

“’Thing’, hm?” She scoffed until she was cut off by him pushing his face closer to hers.

“Silence while I am speaking,” He spat bluntly, “If whatever is going on between us is to continue, I need you to myself again. No ifs, no buts, I need you to all to myself.”

“Are you pleading with me, Professor Snape?” She smirked, sliding her hands up his chest and onto his shoulders, “I must be yours?” She squinted her eyes, “Despite us only fooling around?”

“Mine and only mine.” He growled, leaning down a little further as he placed his hands against the desk at either side of her.

“Or… what?” She dared to ask, able to feel his breathing against her lips now.

“Trust me… you don't want to know.” He spoke lowly and slowly, their lips only centimetres apart.

“That’s a little possessive, don't you think?” She spoke as close to his lips as possible without kissing him.

“Quite frankly, my dear,” He spoke quietly but firmly, “I don't give a fuck.”

The minute he got to the end of his sentence, their lips were pressed against each other. Eleanor whimpered from the harshness of it and Severus moved closer to his desk, grinning against her lips when her legs parted to either side of him. It wasn't long before the kiss grew deeper, Eleanor’s hands now in his hair as she kissed him urgently, desperately. Severus cupped her face in one of his large hands and tilted his head, grunting into the kiss as the tips of their tongues touched.

“Does jealousy make you horny, Severus?” She teased against his lips, giggling.

“Do not be absurd…” He mumbled, kissing her harder as if punishment for the question.

“You can't deny that someone preoccupying what's yours turns you on…” She played with his hair while they kissed in between her speaking, “Is it because you're already picturing what punishment you're going to give me, hm?”

“Jealousy does not turn me on.” Severus grunted, parting the kiss with a heavy sigh as he glared down at her.

“Oh, yeah?” She bit her lip once he pulled back, glancing between them and then back up at him, “You might want to try telling your cock that.”

“Your tongue is almost growing as sharp as mine, Miss Eleanor.” He sucked in a breath through his clenched teeth.

“At least it's not as arrogant.” Eleanor quickly fired back.

Severus’ temper raised further, his lip twitching angrily as his eyes darkened even more than their usual black. Eleanor was enjoying taunting him a little too much, and he could tell.

“So, not only did you spend the entire night with another man right under my nose,” He leaned over her once more, using one of his hands to fumble with the buttons on his pants, “And now you insist on thinking you can take that tone with me? I don't think so.”

“Mm…” She raised her eyebrows, becoming even more aroused by the way he was acting, “What are you going to do to me, professor?”

“Spread your fucking legs and I'll show you.” He responded in a gruff, demanding tone.

“Yes, sir…” Her eyes fell to his crotch again once his buttons were undone, the bulge now protruding through the opening and straining against the front of his boxers.

He dipped his head again and their lips met urgently with a bruising kiss. Eleanor’s arms snaked around his neck again and pulled at his bottom lip, enjoying the whine that came from him as a result. Her fingers darted into his hair as he rocked his hips up against the edge of his desk, rolling up onto his tip toes several times and making soft noises against her lips.

“What, is my punishment that you're going to fuck this desk instead of me?” She giggled when the desk rocked again briefly against the wall it was positioned against as a result of his hips.

“What have I told you about your fucking mouth?” He snarled, subtly enjoying the brief friction through the material of his underwear.

“Mm… so sweary…” She grinned against his lips.

“I’m going to need you to remove your underwear,” He grunted, “And actually be a good girl for me.”

“Actually…” She swallowed hard, seeing the disapproval in his face already for not immediately bowing to his command, “There’s a slight problem with that.”

“Miss Eleanor, I do not think it would be wise for you to disobey me again…” He exhaled through his nose with a glare, narrowing his suspicious eyes when he noticed her reaching for his wrists while leaning up to kiss him feverishly as he muttered against her lips, “You are becoming insufferable again…” They kissed again, her hands now guiding his to her thighs under her dress, “Intolerable…”

“The problem being...” She let go of his wrists and moved herself closer to the edge of the desk to encourage his hands to move further up her thighs, “I’m not wearing any.”

Her words left a tingle against his lips — a tingle that went directly down to his cock. He felt Eleanor smile as they kissed again, her hands now resting against his shoulders. Although he hardly doubted her for a moment, Severus’ hands still moved further under her dress just to make sure. Despite the feeling of her bare skin beneath his fingertips easing his mind, it did not ease the arousal bulging against his own underwear that was still purposefully brushing against the edge of his desk with each kiss.

“Did you remove your underwear for me or already in hopes for him?” He asked in a serious tone, pressing his fingertips into her skin and smirking when she whimpered against his lips.

“You,” She gasped when she felt his fingers move directly between her legs, kissing him hungrily, “Always for you.”

Severus swore he could hear the pulsing of his cock from her response, now pulling his hands away completely and holding her face in one hand and desperately reaching down to free himself from his underwear with the other.

“Fuck…” He mumbled to himself, now suddenly starting to feel around in the desk drawer and then his pockets as if in some desperate hope for some form of condom or alternative contraception, “I need… I just need…” He looked around frantically, frustrated with himself, “Stay right here. Don’t move a muscle.”

“Wait,” She reached out for him once he began to pull away, “Don’t go anywhere. Its fine.”

“But I don't have- I need to go get-”

“No, shh, I said it is fine,” She shook her head, pulling him closer to her again and stretching her legs out to wrap around his waist, “Honestly.”

“You don't… want me to use anything?” He asked, she shook her head so he repeated, “Anything?”

She shook her head again, glancing down at his hardened length for a moment before glancing up at him again, “I removed my underwear before I approached you when we got back because I didn't want any barriers to stop you throwing me around your chamber in a rage of jealousy, and I would quite like to stick to the theme…” She bit her lip when he stepped close to her again, his desperate, sticky precum wet length now lining up perfectly between her legs, “I’ve been learning the contraception spell, and there's only one way to know if it worked, right?” She giggled, their heavy, desire-filled eyes now meeting, “I want you to have your way with me, Severus. No barriers. Skin on skin.”

Severus’ lips parted as he struggled with a response, taking everything in him not to lose control hands-free right in that moment from her words alone.

“Show me what happens when someone touches what's yours.” She licked her lips seductively, reaching up to wrap her arms around his neck.

“Too fucking right, you’re mine.” He snarled, gripping her thighs in his large hands as he thrusted his hips forward in one, swift motion. She let out a high-pitched moan and he exhaled loudly as he felt her tense around him immediately, but for the first time nothing between them, and spoke breathily into her ear, “And don't you ever ‘shush’ me again.”

Her lips parted to apologise but all that passed through them was an even louder moan. Severus was showing no mercy, already thrusting his hips at such a pace that their kisses were hard to maintain. He gripped her thighs firmly with his hands, their teeth now colliding with rough kisses.

“I love the way you claim me so selfishly…” She spoke against his lips, trying her best to grip onto him with her arms around his neck.

“I do not wish to ever see you with another man again,” He panted against her lips, “And I could not care less how selfish that sounds.”

“Mmm… fuck me like you mean it, Severus.” Her hand dived into his hair, pulling at it in time with his thrusts.

“Do not doubt my intentions…” He spoke gruffly, secretly still trying to get used to the feeling of nothing between them as his entire length continued to plunge in and out of her in fits of desperation.

He could easily lose himself in this new, much more sensitive feeling, and trying his hardest not to was not helped by Eleanor now wrapping her legs around him tightly and digging her heels into his bottom with each thrust he made. He had no choice but to break the kiss and gasp for air; his moans were continuous but he needed to at least attempt to try and catch his breath before he passed out.

“Mm… mm, fuck!” Eleanor cried out in pleasure from the sudden change of angle and speed of his hips, her legs now desperately trying to cling onto him as their bodies shuddered in delight with each thrust.

“Yes, yes, yes… agh!” Severus grunted between heavy breaths as his hips picked up an even more relentless pace.

“Y—You’re…” She reached out weakly to grab onto the buttons of his clothing but resulted in wafting the air clumsily instead as her entire body shivered from his harsh pace, her eyes squeezed shut in ecstasy as they rolled back, “F—Fucking me so good, Severus…”

“I’m fucking you like you're mine.” He growled against her lips and shook his overcoat and cloak off, now standing in his black button down shirt and his desperately unbuttoned trousers which his strong thighs had prevented from pooling to the floor.

“Yeah?” She grinned and forced her eyes open, losing her breath completely when she saw the pure rush of delight visibly flowing through Severus’ body with each and every movement he made.

“Yes,” He responded with his eyes closed and placed one of his hands flat on the wall to steady himself; the bare contact and pace of his movements were giving him so much pleasure that he feared the feeling he could pass out wash over him again, “You. Are. Mine,” He grunted in time with each harsh thrust, “And. Mine. Alone.” He could barely catch his breath at this point, “Do you hear me?”

Eleanor could not speak for moaning out his name repeatedly with the mixture of everything that was happening, so instead offered him a shaky nod. Not that Severus saw her response with his head tilted back and his eyes still closed tightly. The table squeaked upon its legs from the forceful, consistent back and forth movements and banged against the wall. Severus felt himself slipping further and further into the raw feeling of the skin-on-skin contact and tensed his jaw every time his hips thrust all the way forward. Countless profanities left his mouth as his head made several attempts to rise again, his sweaty hair now becoming a part of his sticky forehead.

“M…mine…” He grunted, his sweaty palm now slipping down the wall. He removed it so both of his hands now clamped onto her waist as her legs squeezed around him, “Mine, mine, mine,” Each word was emphasised with a harsh slam of his hips and causing Eleanor to let out a loud squeal in the process.

“Fuck, yes, Severus,” She moaned, digging her heels harder into his bottom to urge him not to stop or slow down, “Y—Yours, Sev. Yours.”

“Good girl.” He growled against her lips, her face now in his hands as they reignited their previous clumsy kisses, “Sh-Shit…” He gasped loudly against her lips as the familiar flames in the pit of his stomach began to lick their way further up his body, trying to grasp her lip between his teeth each time their lips collided, “I’m going to cum, Princess… I—I’m going to fucking c-!”

“Mm, you certainly don't fuck me like a Princess.” She grinned against his lips, giggling for a moment before realising how close he actually was to his climax when she felt him desperately bucking his hips against hers.

“A-Ah, fuck!” He hissed through clenched teeth, his hands trembling against her face as he felt himself crumbling in pleasure, “Oh, oh! I'm cu…!” His moans were even louder than ever now, his thumbs shakily caressing her cheekbones as he tried his best to hold her face in place as his orgasm exploded with each twitch of his cock, “Ah, fuck, Eleanor!” He cried out breathlessly, feeling as if he had entered another dimension with the amount of pleasure coursing through him.

Eleanor’s own climax was already on the edge, her entire body becoming jittery each time he pushed her closer to it, but the reaction Severus gave to getting off inside her with no barriers whatsoever was all she needed to hit her peak of pleasure. Her arms flung themselves around his neck and legs tightened around his waist as she became completely undone at the mercy of his bare, relentless cock.

“S-Sev-!” She struggled for breath, repeatedly contracting around him with each pulse of his thrusting length, “Severus! Fuck…” Her fingers trembled in his hair as her body continuously switched from tensing up and turning to jelly.

Severus’ moans proceeded to rattle against the walls as his eyes rolled back in pleasure, his hands now back against her thighs and shakily massaging his fingertips against her skin. Their bodies continued to convulse in pure bliss, their clothing now sticking to their bodies with sweat as their hot breath fogged up the chamber with their heavy breathing.

Even after their movements had slowed, Severus found it practically impossible to speak for a few long moments, but when he did, he just said, “Fucking hell, that was amazing…”

“I’m surprised we didn't end up next door…” Eleanor giggled breathily, placing her hands upon his heaving chest.

“One does not take the opportunity to have you completely naturally for granted.” He whispered, cupping her cheek in his hand and gazing down into her eyes as he bit his lip.

“Mm…” Eleanor grinned, kissing him softly, “I never want to be fucked in any other way again, professor.”

“Stop talking like that,” He spoke playfully sharply against her lips, “Or it’ll never go down.”

“Don’t tempt me to keep going,” She looked up at him with a wink, “You and I both know that we always tend to have the best sex when one of us has somehow pissed the other one off.”

“No comment.” Severus spoke slowly, his facial expression straining to remain straight. He knew she was right.

“Making you jealous gets you all riled up,” She squeezed his shoulders, “Making you jealous does turn you on, Severus…” She raised her eyebrows, “Why do you think I spend all night with any man who isn't you and then turn up in your chamber without any underwear on? Why do you think I enjoy making you jealous so much, hm?”

“Why do you think I let you?” Severus replied instantly in a very matter-of-fact tone.

“Because I know you’ll fuck me into next week.” Eleanor replied just as fast, biting her lip harshly to try and suppress the wide grin that was threatening to show.

“Or next door, apparently.” Severus chuckled, brushing her hair out of her face as their eyes met again.

“I think this has to be our best worst habit.” Eleanor laughed along with him.

“I happen to agree with that statement.” Severus crinkled his nose, tilting her chin up with his index finger.

“What’s that?” Eleanor gasped playfully, “We actually agree on something?”

“Watch your lip, sweetheart…” Severus’ voice lowered, his eyes narrowing.

“I bet you’d like to watch my lip… my… lips…” Eleanor dared herself to say, though she only spoke in a timid tone.

“You really are insufferable…” He shook his head, eyes still on hers, “That attitude of yours will get you into trouble, you know.”

“Admit it, Severus,” She smirked, “I’m the kind of trouble that you enjoy.”

“Ha.” He rolled his eyes sarcastically, letting go of her and starting tuck himself back into his trousers.

“Oh, no, no,” She shook her head and pursed her lips, reaching down to push his hands away from his crotch. Severus’ gaze met hers again, his lips parting from her insinuation and a heavy breath leaving them as his jaw clenched from her following words spoken with a devilish grin, “I’m not finished with you yet.”

---

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[1d1195]

Dolcezza I

You know me and my need for love at first sight.

This is where I’ll keep her: Dolcezza

Warnings: mostly fluff, mentions of stalking

~5.5k words

Definitely multi-part. This part is mostly from the MC perspective. The very end peeks into Harry's brain and the second part will likely pick up more onto his POV.

Hope you enjoy!

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“No, I’m totally fine, thank you,” she said into her phone.

“Are you sure?” Eleanor asked. “I can send Louis over.”

“No, no, that’s so unnecessary, El. Really. I’ll be fine.”

She could hear her best friend sigh heavily into the speaker. Eleanor was nearly a thousand miles away. She got a new job and while the benefits and everything about it were great, and would make Eleanor wildly successful, she was sadly away from her platonic soulmate. It was extremely hard to let her go. Worse, Louis would be joining her just as soon as he nailed down a new job out there.

But Louis was around for now, which was a great relief for Eleanor. Her best friend was a lot of things, but aware of how scary her situation wasn’t one of them. Louis knew he was essentially filling as best friend for the time being and he was expected to drop everything to get to her aid if Eleanor said so.

But that would only last so long.

Eleanor didn’t want to think about that right now.

She was carrying a box from her car toward the building. Her shoulder pressing her phone to her ear as best she could. Beside the building was a small little alley where her entry way to her new place resided. As much as it killed her to pay for it, she got a whole moving company to bring her furniture in already so at the rest was pretty standard. Her family, God love them, didn’t even think that she might need some help. If anything, she would have had to bribe them into helping her. Even if it was just for the furniture. If Eleanor was in town she would have helped with the boxes and other stray things she had heaped in her car.

Even with Eleanor’s presence closer, she felt alone. Eleanor had Louis and she would never fault her for that. Louis was everything she would want in a best-friend-in-law. But there was always this element of not fully having Eleanor—not like when they were in college and sharing a dorm room. It was different now. Not bad, but different. Her family was great but a little self-centered at times. Part of the problem, she dropped everything to help them whenever they asked but they rarely returned the favor. She did it all, so why would she need help?

Fortunately, moving allowed her to downsize quite a bit so her mid-sized SUV was able to hold almost all of her boxes in one trip from her storage unit to the new place. Maybe, this even helped her explain away her family’s lack of help.

But her brother was either busy working at the college dispatch center most of the weekend or playing beer pong at a frat party. Her sister was so wrapped up in her high school love life or maybe just being the princess her mom and dad made her out to be by never making her do anything of importance. Her parents were probably waiting on her hand and foot without even realizing. If not, they were probably creating some sort of computer-virus havoc on their home computer that for some reason her sister wouldn’t be able to fix. Or maybe they finally started fixing the kitchen up as they said they would for the last year waiting for their oldest to come home and fix all the little things they broke in the process.

If she thought about it too long, she would get annoyed. Her brother and sister were more than capable of helping and they just didn’t. It drove her nuts. So, at the end of it, she couldn’t bother her family for help. Because it barely felt like they could help themselves.

She was lucky because the alleyway wasn’t creepy. Not even at night. The whole street was a dream come true really. Part of her thought that despite the circumstance, this was actually a much-needed move. It was almost lucky that she found such an amazing place. Her own parking space right out front of the building, a coffee shop—a mere stone’s throw from said parking space—almost everything she needed was within walking distance. It was perfect.

Of course, the best and most wonderful selling point of all was by far that her new apartment was right above an Italian restaurant. It smelled like fresh pasta, garlic, and just the most comforting of scents. It reminded her of Sunday’s making meatballs with her dad and watching sports with her brother and sister.

When her coworker Mitch told her about the place, she thought it was too good to be true. But Mitch knew someone who worked at the restaurant. The owner, Antonio, was looking for a tenant after he informed Mitch’s friend that he was outgrowing the space. It was a generous size. But it was meant for a place to stay and keep watch over the restaurant—max two people and that was pushing it. The little place could not support Antonio, his wife, their first born, and another little one on the way. Four people was too big for this place.

But it was perfect for a girl who loved garlic bread and spaghetti who needed a new place and wouldn’t mind the smell of olive oil all hours of the day.

“How did you find this place?” Eleanor asked, her third-degree questioning tone was present in her voice.

“A friend of a coworker,” Eleanor already knew this.

“Mitch?” She clarified.

“Yes, Mom, Mitch,” she rolled her eyes.

“I don’t know how you can be so blasé about all this. It’s serious!” She reminded her. “I’m not even there to protect you.”

She didn’t need to be protected. She had a restraining order. The police in the area were well aware of the situation and she was almost always at home or traveling one day a week to work. If she ran errands, it was always in public spaces. She only ever worked out at a public female-only gym. Plus, she had given Louis her location. All of it was nearly a non-issue. “I don’t even know how I got a stalker,” she muttered grumpily. The whole thing was an inconvenience. If it wasn’t for Eleanor, she probably wouldn’t have even gotten the restraining order.

“You’re too nice,” Eleanor reminded her.

She sighed, tired of the story. It had been almost a year since the creepy sensation of the guy following her had started. Eleanor had approached him on more than one occasion to get rid of him. But the whole thing seemed like a bigger deal than it needed to be. The guy was basically harmless; if not just a little bit more on the creepy side. He couldn’t take the hint that she wasn’t interested and had a hard time letting go. He kept a huge distance from her—she wasn’t even sure she knew the color of his eyes from how far away he followed her. If he was around, she hardly noticed. “Well, I’m moving to a whole new place now so it should be fine now.”

“You didn’t tell anyone else about your address change?”

“Nope, just HR,” she promised. “As far as everyone knows I’m still living in that crummy apartment.”

“Well, maybe this is a blessing that you’re out of there anyway,” Eleanor sighed, relief in her voice. “How do you like this place?”

She smiled dropping the box in the middle of the room before she closed the door and descended the staircase back to her car to grab more boxes. “El, it’s literally perfect. It’s like the apartment of my dreams.”

“How come no one at the restaurant wanted it?”

“When you come visit, we can go and ask all the questions—”

As she entered the alleyway from her apartment entrance she was pushed to the ground. The rattling of glass bottles clinked, clattered, and broke on the pavement. She already felt the bruise forming on her tailbone from landing so hard on the ground. In the process she dropped her phone, and she could hear Eleanor shouting from the speaker. “Ouch,” she muttered.

“Don’t move!” She turned to the sound of the guy in the alleyway with her—he was hurrying to his feet having also toppled to the cold, hard ground. He was wearing all black. Short sleeves even though it was a chillier fall day—showing off an array of tattoos that lined his muscular arms. His black pants had fingerprints and handprints of flour on them. There was something dark colored—probably tomato sauce—dried on the half apron around his hips. He clearly worked in the restaurant. The bag of bottles he was previously carrying ripped open and was broken on the ground. “M’so sorry, Principessa,” his voice was smooth and warm. “Antonio told me y’were moving in today. Should’ve been more careful,” he frowned grabbing her wrists without a thought and hauling her to her feet to get her off the cold ground and away from any broken glass. “M’so sorry,” he repeated making sure she was steadily on her feet. He turned her hands over inspecting them so delicately. Like she was the glass that had broken at their feet. “Are y’alright, Principessa?”

The silence coming from Eleanor on her phone was nearly deafening. She blinked a few times as she gazed at the most beautiful man she had ever seen in her life. His hair was the color of melted milk chocolate and looked like it had been sculpted of the very substance into the most unfairly beautiful curls any man should have been allowed to have. His cheeks were smooth except for the stubble lining his incredibly sharp jawline. His lower lip was chapped, and she realized how close she was to face to notice such a thing. Probably from the way he was biting it with the worry that he had hurt her. But they were still very rosy—like pink wine and much like the rest of him, very, very pretty.

He picked up her phone out of the debris. Wiping it on his apron then brought it to his ear. “Hello?”

“Oh, God,” she whispered to herself, trying to process the last two minutes. Eleanor was going to lose her mind.

“Uh... m’Harry... She’s fine—I think... Are y’okay, Principessa?” His gaze turned back to her.

It felt like her heart stopped as her eyes connected with the beautiful green ones looking back at her. It was unfair someone like Harry was that pretty.

She nodded, holding her hand out for her phone. He returned it to her immediately and she cleared her throat. “I’m fine, El. Promise.”

“Principessa?!” She gasped. “Oh. My. God.”

“I’ll call you later,” she whispered feeling her face warm as Harry inspected the mess.

“M’sorry, Principessa,” he repeated for a fourth time. If he called her Principessa again though, she might fall right back on her sore tailbone. “Wasn’t expecting you t’come out the door,” he frowned. “Did y’get cut at all?” He asked, scanning her quickly from head to toe. She was dressed for moving on a cool fall day. A chunky sweatshirt, a pair of joggers, and trainers. Her hair was pulled tight to keep out of her face.

She was the furthest thing from looking like the princess that he kept calling her. “Oh...no... I’m alright,” she promised. “I’m sorry. I didn’t think—”

“Don’t apologize, kitten, s’entirely my fault.”

She shook her head rapidly trying to get some neural networks firing. “Really, I’m okay,” she smiled gently. “I should have watched—”

“M’serious, s’my fault,” he interrupted again.

“Harry, what’s the hold—” Antonio entered the alleyway but stopped his train of thought looking at the pair of them. “Oh, hi, tesorino,” he had called her that a lot since he spoke and met with her. “See you’ve met Harry,” he looked at the broken bag and the glass. “Did he hurt you?” He asked.

“No!” Harry glared at him, a frown adorning his pretty lips and a matching pinch between his brows. Harry looked adorable when he was angry. “I didn’t Principessa, did I?” He turned back to her looking apologetic again.

“No, I’m sincerely fine,” she promised shoving her phone into the pocket of her joggers. “I should have watched where I was—”

“No, no, tesorino,” Antonio shook his head. “It’s Harry’s fault. M’sure.” What kind of reality was this? Antonio reminded her of Louis or a much older brother—maybe even a young dad, but not like her dad. She imagined Louis saying the same kind of taunting thing to Eleanor or even herself. It was surreal. A cute guy bumped into her when she was starting fresh. It was like fate—a new start and a new guy. “I’ll get you a broom, Harry. Make sure she’s alright.”

“Yes sir,” he nodded firmly. Antonio disappeared back to the restaurant to get the broom.

“I’m really fine,” she promised.

Harry was smiling now, he bent down to get the big pieces of glass that shattered and carefully placed them on the broken plastic bag. “M’glad, Principessa,” he hummed quietly.

“Uh...” she smiled awkwardly and stepped to the side. “I should get out of the way...” she trailed off and started for the street to gather more of her stuff.

“Here,” Antonio reappeared with a broom and a new bag, passing it off to Harry. “Tesorino, are you sure you’re alright?” Antonio had an Italian accent. It made her smile and even if she was hurt, she was sure that she wouldn’t—couldn’t feel any pain because it was so comfortable being around an Italian restaurant where people worried about her.

“I’m really, truly fine,” she promised.

Harry was quick to pick up all the glass and took a few steps around the area to catch any of the broken pieces. It seemed this wasn’t the first time this had happened. It was like she was glued to her spot watching Harry take the collected glass down the alleyway to one of the dumpsters. “Do you need help moving your stuff upstairs?” Antonio asked.

“Oh no, that’s alright, I’m fine—”

“Harry, help her with her stuff,” he ordered, ignoring her brush-off. “Her car is out front.”

Harry handed the broom back to his boss and hurried to the front of the building. “Hey!” She frowned and looked at Antonio. “I don’t need help—”

“Tesorino, please. S’no big deal. Harry would be happy to help.” Harry was already coming back with what she knew was a heavy box labeled ‘kitchen’ and heading for the stairs. Truthfully, she was dreading carrying that one, so she was grateful Harry was literally doing the heavy lifting for her but didn’t want him to feel like he had to. “He helped us move our stuff out already and into our new home,” he shrugged. “Come down for some lasagna for dinner,” he said heading back toward the front.

The entire interaction had left her so completely confused. Harry was beautiful and clearly a cook of some sort in the kitchen of the restaurant. Currently, he was up in her new apartment putting her box in the kitchen. Right as she came to the door to head after him, he bumped into her again, reappearing from the door so quickly, she almost fell right back to the ground. This time, Harry caught her around the waist. “M’sorry, Principessa. I don’t know why I keep getting in y’way,” he frowned.

He released her waist just as quickly as he caught her before heading back for her car. The warmth of his arm around her body lingered as she followed him. “You don’t have to help.”

“S’no problem, kitten,” he shrugged grabbing a box labeled ‘bedroom’ that she knew had an array of random things including an assortment of old CDs, a few pictures, and everything from her nightstand—including a box of condoms. Just the knowledge of knowing he was carrying them was enough to make her face warm. She frowned, hurrying to grab a box herself. “Y’don’t have any friends t’help you?” He asked over his shoulder as he made himself at home coming to stop in front of the second door in the little hall at the top of the steps. Beside her apartment was a second office for the restaurant. Antonio assured her that he was the only person who used it and at this point in time, it was mostly storage. Either way, she didn’t mind. The place was a steal and beyond helpful for her new start. Especially with Eleanor breathing down her neck worrying about her.

“I don’t like to bother people with something I can do myself,” she explained quietly while pushing the door out of the way for Harry to enter—but he waited for her to go first. A silent direction in his eyes as he stood still with the box in his hands. After an awkward pause, she went in first.

Unfortunately, she was compelled to fill the silence with more explanation. “My best friend got a new job—so she’s unavailable. She offered her boyfriend but he’s working. My other friends... no one wants to help move. You know?” She explained. But it was hard to hide the catch in her throat while she spoke. No one wanted to help her.

It was weird to have a conversation with Harry like that. It was a little personal, nothing crazy. But apparently, it divulged enough. “S’unfair, Principessa,” his voice was so gentle. “M’sure you’d help if they asked—or even if they didn’t ask.”

How on earth could some stranger possibly know that about her without so much as speaking for more than ten full minutes? There was a jolt of sadness that washed through her. But she pushed it aside and frowned at the stranger who seemed to read right through her without so much as a second glance. “They would help if I asked,” she murmured. But it felt like sand in her mouth as she said it because she knew it was a lie.

Harry didn’t harp on it though. He glanced around the empty space. “Are y’new to the city?” He asked.

“No... not really,” she shrugged. “I used to live just a couple towns over.”

“Ah,” he nodded. “D’you have a lot more?” He asked.

She shook her head. “No, not really. You... you grabbed the heavy kitchen one. So, it should be easy from here on out.”

“Great,” he smiled. “I’ll get Niall, we’ll be done in half an hour.” Harry left her breathless for more than one reason. He hurried back down and stopped outside of the restaurant. She was practically running to catch up.

Dolcezza was written in cursive script above the big window showcasing the beautiful restaurant. Most Italian restaurants always seemed so darkly lit. This one looked so warm and cozy and on the brighter side. It reminded her of her grandparents’ house.

Harry pulled the door open. “Niall!” He shouted. Without waiting for whoever Niall was, Harry turned to her car to grab the next box.

Niall was a little less than half a foot shorter than Harry. His eyes were the color of the sky in the middle of June, and he had an adorable smile. “What’re you doing?” He asked Harry as he walked by with a box. “Hey tesorino,” he winked at her.

“Grab a box,” Harry nodded his head toward the open car and continued for her apartment once more.

What the heck!?

She stumbled to get a box herself and hurried to follow the two guys moving her stuff into her new place. But she had to give credit where credit was due. Harry was right. Thirty minutes, and everything in her car was now in the apartment. Niall headed back to the restaurant without a word, but Harry stayed behind. “D’you need help with anything, kitten?” He asked sweetly.

She couldn’t possibly imagine him helping her more than he already had. “N-no, thank you. That was...really helpful. I can take it from here.”

“Jus’ come grab me from downstairs if y’do think of something, kitten. Antonio won’t mind,” he promised. He smiled at her once more and looked around. His gaze stopped on the tall bookshelf. He walked toward it and looked at each side. He pulled a little bag of screws that were taped to the side and put it in plain view. “Make sure y’anchor that bookshelf before putting books on it. Don’t want it falling on you,” he mentioned kindly. She frowned. In her old place, her bookshelf was recessed into the wall. Having built the new shelf so the movers could take it the other day, she truly hadn’t thought about it. She only taped the little bag to the inside of the shelf so she knew what it belonged to when she created a junk drawer in the kitchen.

“Er... right,” she nodded—unconfidently.

Harry looked her over again, sizing her up, as if he knew she didn’t know how to do that and was too proud to ask. “I’ll come back up before dinner t’do it. D’you have a screw gun and such?”

“I can Google how to do it if I need to,” she assured him knowing that if he didn’t say anything, she wouldn’t do it. “I doubt I can put holes in the wall like that.”

Harry snorted. “Don’t worry, Principessa, I’ll tell Antonio. He won’t argue.”

“It’s really—”

“M’offering myself, kitten. S’nothing t’worry ‘bout. M’happy t’help. S’no trouble at all.”

It was jarring. That was the only way to describe it. It was as if Harry could read her thoughts and see on her face that she didn’t want to trouble someone on her behalf. “Antonio s’not kidding ‘bout lasagna either, Principessa. He’ll want y’down between five-thirty and six. Come down t’eat or he’ll make me come up here t’get you.”

*

“Who was that?” Eleanor asked in greeting as she answered the phone.

“Hi Eleanor, the move has been going well. I’m about to start unpacking boxes and arranging everything. How has your day been?” She answered with an eye roll.

“Shut up, tell me about the guy, principessa,” her voice was nearly hysterical. Her tone was almost mocking with the nickname Harry had bestowed upon her. It made her stomach flip to hear even Eleanor say it.

Sighing, she put her head on the counter of her new kitchen. She eyed the heavy box Harry had put there on the floor. “His name is Harry. He works at the restaurant,” she explained. “Antonio had him help me with all the boxes and stuff, his friend Niall too.”

“I don’t care about that. What does he look like?!” The pause was telling. She knew it. “Wow,” Eleanor sighed. “He is so hot, you’re speechless.”

Rolling her eyes again, she was glad Eleanor couldn’t see her cheeks burning red at the correct assumption. “He’s cute,” she managed.

“Oh puh-lease,” she gasped. “What a cute little story you’ll be able to tell your grandchildren.”

“Can you relax? I talked to him for twenty minutes and mostly about moving.”

“Mostly?!”

“Sweet Jesus,” she sighed pinching the bridge of her nose and closing her eyes trying to think of the fastest way to get rid of her friend from making her crazy. “He correctly identified that I have shitty friends who wouldn’t help me move even if I had asked. He also got his friend Niall to help with the boxes in my car. And when I came back from the storage unit with a second load, they ran out in the middle of a lunch rush to help anyway.”

“You could sell movie rights,” Eleanor sighed dreamily.

She rolled her eyes. “His boss made him help.”

“His boss made him call you principessa too?”

“He called me kitten too.”

“Oh, you’re so going to marry him.”

“I have to unpack my house now.”

“What does he smell like?”

“You are insane.”

There was a knock on her door.

“Wonder who that is,” Eleanor practically sang. She glanced at the stove clock. It wasn’t even five o’clock. Not time to head down for lasagna. After the crazy afternoon she had, she wanted to make sure she didn’t give a reason to the funny cooks and owner downstairs that were helping her a reason to waste their time with her. She truly planned to head down for lasagna as they asked. But part of her thought Harry was joking about the bookshelf.

With the phone still against her ear, she pulled the door out of the way and found Harry. He was not joking. There was a screw gun at his side. “Hi Principessa,” he grinned so brightly it made a dimple in both cheeks appear. “M’gonna anchor y’bookshelf and then take y’down t’get lasagna,” he maneuvered right by her without so much as an okay.

“You really don’t need to trouble yourself,” she promised.

Harry turned pausing by the shelf pressed against the wall. “D’you really want me t’leave?” He asked with a frown. “M’sorry. I jus’... really want t’help you, kitten,” he explained. “S’like I need to. S’almost... compulsive... but I’ll leave if y’want me to.”

“Don’t you dare let him leave,” Eleanor said to her ear, her voice was practically a sigh. She and Harry stood feet apart gazing at one another.

But it felt so bad getting help from Harry. “Well...er... if you’re really sure it’s not a bother,” she murmured.

“Not at all, Principessa,” he smiled. “Promise,” he nodded. “S’jus’ a couple minutes and then I’ll bring y’down.”

“Eleanor, I gotta go.”

“I can’t wait to give my maid of honor speech at your wedding.”

She hung up on her friend. Harry was quick. He was shifting the bookshelf away from the wall. He snagged the little package of screws taped to the side. “Can I help?” She asked tossing her phone on the couch.

“I think m’alright, principessa. Thank you,” he said kindly, like he wasn’t doing her a favor by doing this. It was quiet while he worked. At one point he did drop one of the little screws and she was quick to grab it and place it in his hand for him. “Thanks, kitten,” he hummed quietly. His expression was so concentrated as he fixed up the shelf.

It wasn’t much, honestly. She knew that. It was just a bookshelf. But it was somehow so much more. Her heart felt so out of place. Her throat felt tight with emotion bubbling to the surface. No one had ever done anything like this before. A near stranger at that. Probably because it was so much more. It was a worry about her safety which people nearly forgot—unless they were Eleanor and by extension Louis.

She turned away briefly and busied herself with pulling throw pillows from the box labeled living room. Harry hummed quietly to himself. It was soothing. For a moment she forgot about who she was and that she had moved because she had a stalker. If she was a little more vulnerable feeling, she might have cried. It wasn’t the time, but she felt like she had known Harry her whole life. But she had barely spoken more than a hundred and fifty words to him. It was feeling extremely domestic in her new place even though hardly anything was unpacked.

The whole place was one wide open room kitchen and living area. There was a little space she designated for a table for sitting at and along the front wall by the window she planned on putting her desk. There was so much she needed to do. There were three doors along the back wall of the apartment. A bathroom, a bedroom, and a little alcove where a washer and dryer resided. She was lucky the owner lived here previously as she was certain there wouldn’t be a washer and dryer otherwise and that may have deterred her from taking the place. The idea of lugging her laundry up and down the stairs to a laundromat was not something she wanted to do in her late twenties.

“Oh crap,” she frowned. Realizing her state of being at the thought of walking up and down the steps all day.

Harry paused and turned to her. “Y’okay, principessa?” He frowned as well. His eyes looked her over with worry.

“Yeah...no, I just... I have to change before I head down there,” she sighed.

Harry smiled and turned back to his task. He gave a one-shouldered shrug. “Oh, y’could go like that, I think y’look beautiful,” he said sweetly.

Her heart rate took off rapidly. She could feel her cheeks warming but she knew her hair was pulled back and little pieces had frizzed and fallen from the elastic. She knew she was sweaty and there was simply no way she looked beautiful.

She snorted awkwardly. “Uh...thank you,” she cleared her throat. “But I would feel better if I changed.”

“I’ll wait outside, then,” he promised. “Jus’ finishing this last bit,” he murmured his attention focused on securing the screws perfectly.

“I’ll be quick,” she promised.

“Take y’time, principessa. M’in no rush,” he stood after finishing the final bit. He stepped back outside the apartment. God, he was nice. It had to be the fastest time she had ever gotten ready for anything. Changing out of comfy clothes and into jeans and a blouse that she would wear to her team meetings, so it didn’t look like she was wearing pajamas to work. She slipped on a pair of the first presentable ankle boots she could find a pair of in the box of shoes that was still unpacked. After she found a clip to pull her hair back in a more presentable fashion.

“Oh, wow,” Harry smiled dreamily as she stepped into the hall and locked her door. “Didn’t know y’could get any more beautiful. In less than five minutes too. M’gonna faint when y’have more than a minute,” he smiled and headed down the stairs as if he hadn’t just stolen her heart.

She was a little surprised he went down the stairs first, but she was grateful because maybe he wouldn’t be able to tell she was shaky and gripping the railing to keep her upright after Harry’s sweet compliment. But she realized it was merely so he could open the door carefully and make sure she wouldn’t bump into someone in the alleyway. Once he decided the alleyway was cleared, he gestured for her to exit first. “Thank you,” she said sincerely.

“For what, kitten?” He smiled as he closed the door behind him.

“Being helpful and nice. I... I’m not really used to that,” she admitted.

The grin on his face was kind. He shoved his freehand in his pocket and shrugged. “Happy t’help y’principessa,” he winked and headed for Dolcezza, surely to open the door for her first.

“Why did he name it Dolcezza?” She asked following behind him.

Harry smiled and glanced over his shoulder to wink at the pretty girl. “It means sweetness. Antonio met his wife when he was studying business, called her la mia dolcezza. He always wanted t’own a restaurant but never knew what t’name it. He knew the second he met her,” he shrugged. “S’a cute story.”

“Very sweet,” she smiled as she walked by Harry to enter the warm and homey restaurant. She was correct in her assumption that he would hold the door open for her. He chuckled at her joke.

There was something about the girl he literally bumped into and proceeded to fall for instantly physically and emotionally. He wasn’t lying when he said it was compulsive to help her. The warmth he felt inspecting her hands for injury and the worry he felt when she didn’t seem sure of anchoring her bookshelf. The thought that she was just above the restaurant that he nearly lived at more than his own place was comforting. A tug on his heart he didn’t know where it came from but couldn’t help it. Harry had never felt such an emotion like this for someone he had just met. It was like he had known her his whole life and he hadn’t spent more than an hour in total speaking to her. But he wanted to spend forever talking to her now that he had a glimpse of someone so beautiful and gentle.

It took every bit of inner strength for Harry to refrain from telling her he would name every child, every restaurant, anything he could name, he would dedicate to her.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @youdontcaredoyou @tiredinwinter @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach @straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals @angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams @summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland @lolyouallsuck @buckybarnessimpp @stylesfever @harrysxcarolina @haarrrys @lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles

Dolcezza: @matildasatellite

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist for more of my writing.

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #dolcezza

[jesterwriting]

scenario: stuck in a timeloop and the only way to restart is to die

pairing: sanji x reader, law x reader, ace x reader (separate)

contents: hurt/comfort, angst, gore, im serious about the gore tw, graphic description of death, post traumatic symptoms, maybe a touch of survivors guilt, breakdowns, time loops, if youve seen rezero you know whats up

word count: 1.6k words

note: okay if theres one thing i love, its angst and hurt comfort, and if there’s one thing i do when i write it, i go crazy with it. my hands were genuinely shaking while i wrote this. hope you enjoy! [evil laughter]

playlist: eleanor by cake bake betty

No matter how many times you died, you couldn’t help but scream when you woke up again. You lost count how many times it happened, and it wasn’t like there was any point in keeping count besides depressing yourself with your numerous failures. This was your power; horrible and nowhere near worth the cost of losing your ability to swim. With every death, you would restart back at a random checkpoint, beginning anew, able to change the way the timeline went. All it took was to die, and lord above, did you die. Sometimes it was quick, other times it was an agony that would haunt you for many loops after.

Your power left you lonely. Friendships you made in one timeline, didn’t exist in others. You remembered when you were young and greeted a friend from a past loop with a hug. Of course, they didn’t know who you were. They no longer remembered the adventures you experienced or the trials you endured, only you held those memories now. They pushed you away with a look of distress, and you cried for hours after that, burdened with the knowledge that whatever friendship you had before, was gone forever now.

You isolated yourself after that.

It wasn’t until recently that you found yourself with a crew, though no one knew of your ability. You hated talking about it, hated reliving each death again and again. Every time you felt strong enough to speak about it, you always ended up dying and resetting everything back to the status quo. You were surrounded by friends, but so completely, and utterly alone. It was a worm in your gut, chewing on you from within and tearing you apart.

Now, here you were. Dying again.

Failing again.

Your eye spasmed in your skull, the other nothing more than jelly in your socket. The taste of iron pooled in your mouth as you hunched over, organs squirming like maggots from the wound on your abdomen. Sobs wracked your body. With shaking hands, you scooped your entrails into the crook of your arm in hopes that you could put them back inside of you. They were slimy and warm, and you were reminded of eels, or perhaps hagfish.

Everything hurt. You were so afraid, you couldn’t breathe. There was a loud bang and a heavy pressure on your chest. Or maybe, your inability to catch your breath stemmed from the bullet that had pierced through your ribcage and into your lungs. When did that happen? You didn’t know, you didn’t care, all you knew was that you didn’t want to die.

Of course, you didn’t get a say in the matter. Before you knew it, your muscles were going slack and your body was crumpling to the ground. Blood poured from between your lips as your tongue wagged numbly in your mouth. If you weren’t careful, you might bite it off. It had happened before, and you died drowning in your own blood rather than to the slow drain of your wounds. Maybe, if you were lucky, you could have been saved then.

Not now, though. Your guts were supposed to be inside you, not spewed and steaming on the ground.

And, just like that, it was over.

You awoke in bed and screamed. With gasping breaths, your hands frantically felt the intact skin of your belly, and your bulletless chest. Though you were safe, the ghost of your pain lingered like a knife against your back. Sobs tore from your throat as you curled in on yourself.

It had been a long time since a death this bad. So lost in your own misery — again, again, it happened again, why won’t it stop? — you didn’t hear the door open until it was too late.

“Black Leg” Sanji

Sanji was across the room, scooping you into his arms before you were able to blink. You gasped and squirmed slightly as he rubbed your back. A part of you was still there, bleeding out on the ground, and your heart wouldn’t stop hammering wildly in your chest, even as Sanji murmured sweet nothings into your ear. Phantom pain gripped you, and your stomach clenched when you remembered just how slimy your insides were as you tried to put them back where they belonged.

“I’m here, love, I’m here.”

That only made you cry more. Your breath hitched as you gripped the back of his dress shirt in your fist and buried your face into the crook of his neck. You were hyperventilating, afraid that the bullet in your chest followed you into this loop, threatening to drag you under again. You died in Sanji’s arms once before, and the terror on his face had etched itself into your brain forever. It couldn’t happen again, you would drag yourself away to die alone under a rock if you could help it.

Sanji’s hand shook as he stroked your hair. “What happened? Tell me what’s wrong.”

Finally, you caught your breath and wiped the tears from your face. With a watery smile, one you were sure was nowhere near as convincing as you wanted if Sanji’s worried expression was anything to go by.

“I had a nightmare,” You said.

If Sanji knew you were lying, he didn’t say anything. He only held you while you desperately pretended that you had stopped trembling.

Trafalgar Law

Law was the last person who you wanted to see like this. He carried too much already. You were sure that he would crumble if he knew the weight you had been carrying right under his nose. Frantic, you pawed at your face to remove the evidence of your breakdown as if he hadn’t heard you screaming moments before.

“Hey,” He said softly, crouching beside you to gently grab you by the shoulders. Law squeezed, and you took a shaky breath and remembered where you were. You weren’t dying alone in the middle of nowhere, you were on the Polar Tang, with Law, somewhere on the Grand Line.

You sniffled and cracked a small smile. “Hey.”

Unwanted visions of your previous death assaulted you from behind your eyes. A sharp gasp tore from your throat as your arms snaked around your middle to hold your organs inside. It still hurt, why did it still hurt? You were safe now, it wasn’t fair. It wasn’t fucking fair.

Gently, Law pried your arms from your abdomen and pulled up your shirt to inspect it. “I don’t see any external injuries…”

You watched the possibility of an internal injury flit across his face. Before the word ‘room’ left his lips, you shook your head and choked on another sob.

“I had a dream I died,” You admitted the half truth with the sour taste of bile on your tongue.

Law’s brows knit and he let out a small, “Ah.”

Awkward, not yet used to the affection you bestowed upon him so readily, he wrapped his long arms around you with a small pat on your back. “Do you want to talk about it?”

“If I died, you need to know I would never blame you.” It came out of nowhere, but it was the only thing you could think to say. The truth was, you would blame yourself, you had a lot of experience doing that, though you thought better of saying that aloud.

Law didn’t say anything in response, his thumb rubbing gentle circles between your shoulder blades.

Portgas D. Ace

“What happened? Why are you crying?” Ace was talking before he even reached you, pulling you against his bare chest before you even had a chance to realize he was here. His scent filled your nose, filled your head, until you were hysterical and pulling him as close as possible.

“Was someone here? Did someone hurt you?” With his righteous anger, his body temperature rose as harmless flames licked your fingers. All you could do was cry, so captivated with the man in front of you, your death was all but forgotten.

“No, no, I’m okay.” You pulled back to study his face, your own stained with snot and tears. He practically glowed in the moonlight that streamed through your window. Even at night, Ace shone like the sun. Your clumsy hands found his freckles, sweeping across the bridge of his nose and down his cheeks to his lips. Flesh and bone, alive and whole. You sobbed harder, low keening whines ripping from your throat before you could stop them.

“Had- Had a dream you were gone.”

Ace pulled you tighter against him. “Oh, babe, I’m not going anywhere anytime soon.”

With your fingers tangled in his hair, Ace rocked you back and forth, hushing you softly while you wished to tear open your ribcage and keep him safe inside your body forever. The only way to get to him would be to rip you apart, and even then, you would come back again, stronger than ever. No one would be able to take him from you. You had died too many times to count, faced pain time and time again, there was no torture you wouldn’t endure if it meant you wouldn’t lose your sun.

How many loops had it been? How many times have you had to watch Ace die?

You’d save him this time, you would make sure of it.

#one piece x reader #black leg sanji x yn #sanji x reader #trafalgar law x reader #portgas ace x reader #portgas ace x y/n #trafalgar law x y/n #trafalgar law x you #black leg sanji x reader #portgas ace x you #.jesterwrites #had so much fun with this one

[howtofightwrite]

How physically active were actually "medieval" noble women? I know is a long period but I usually see people complaning about noble women in fantasy doing stuff such as hunting or riding horses. I have seen a couple of illustrations of fencing manuals with women in them too.

We, as a culture, especially in the US, have a very bad habit of using the British Regency/Victorian era as the gold standard for how women all over the world were treated throughout history. And the truth is, it ain’t that way. It never was, because women in this exact era used to duel each other in other parts of Europe and often did it topless.

Yes, this is real. We have records of it.

Was it all women, all the time? No. Was it often enough to mention? Yes.

There’s a really good article by Kameron Hurley, “Women Have Always Fought” that goes over the history of women warriors and the laziness of specular fiction in detail. This is a particularly great few paragraphs from the article that covers where our popular conception that women don’t fight comes from.

“Women have always fought,” he said. “Shaka Zulu had an all-female force of fighters. Women have been part of every resistance movement. Women dressed as men and went to war, went to sea, and participated actively in combat for as long as there have been people.”

I had no idea what to say to this. I had been nurtured in the U.S. school system on a steady diet of the Great Men theory of history. History was full of Great Men. I had to take separate Women’s History courses just to learn about what women were doing while all the men were killing each other. It turned out many of them were governing countries and figuring out rather effective methods of birth control that had sweeping ramifications on the makeup of particular states, especially Greece and Rome.

Half the world is full of women, but it’s rare to hear a narrative that doesn’t speak of women as the people who have things done to them instead of the people who do things. More often, women are talked about as a man’s daughter. A man’s wife.

Sounds familiar, doesn’t it?

Check out some of these real women below.

Empress Maude, the daughter of the English King, Henry I, was named her father’s heir after her brother died. While her cousin Stephen stole the throne after her father’s death, she raised an army and took the country into a civil war to take it back. They fought it out for the decade it took for her son to reach adulthood, and laid the groundwork for Henry II to become king. There’s a great novel by Sharon Kay Penman, When Christ and His Saints Slept which chronicles the civil war. If you’re interested in medieval history, I recommend reading it. Her daughter-in-law, Eleanor of Aquitaine, also led an interesting life. (It should be said, real history got to the denied female heir fights for her throne before George R.R. Martin.)

There’s great videos from Xiran Jay Zhao discussing the Chinese warrior queen Fu Hao of the Shang Dynasty and Wu Zetian, who became China’s first female emperor. (Yes, you read that right. Emperor.)

There is Khutulun, the Wrestler Princess and the great-great granddaughter of Gengis Khan, who is one source of our “defeat her in battle to marry her” tropes. She issued this challenge, “defeat her in wrestling, she’ll marry.” She scammed would be suitors out of 10,000 horses. Western male authors are so threatened by Khutulun, they’ve kept trying to rewrite her history by making her fall victim to the power of love. (No, seriously.)

There’s also Hojo Masako, the Buddhist nun who deposed her own son when he proved incompetent and ruled Japan as Shogun. Here’s her wiki entry too.

The Amazons of Greek Myth were real in that they were actual Scythian women who went to war. (As Scythian women did, just like their men.) They terrified and terrorized the Greeks so much, they became immortalized in their mythology. Don’t believe me? Here’s an article from National Geographic and this one from Live Science.

There’s stories like this all throughout history from big events to small ones. (You can find more over at Rejected Princesses if you’re interested.) There are female warriors, female generals, noblewomen who took command of their husbands’ forces, widows who took to the sea to get revenge on those who wronged them, women who rode with their husbands to battle, female assassins, female leaders of rebellions, etc. The women of the Japanese samurai class were trained to fight, and fight they did. Women warriors, queens, and politicians are all over mythology too. You’ll often see these women come out of the upper echelons of society because money creates options, but they are there. Many of those stories are lost to history, in some cases purposefully, and there was a long trend among archeologists that assumed because a person was buried with male grave goods, the body had to be male. We’re now finding out that isn’t true. There’s a significant portion of warrior corpses that have turned out to be female. Assassin’s Creed: Valhalla chose to post a notice about it in response to these exact criticisms you’re questioning.

Those people you see complaining online? They’re clinging to a version of history that doesn’t exist. More, we know it doesn’t, because popular culture is hungry to the point of desperate for aggressive, confident, and competent female characters. If they were truly a lie, they wouldn’t ring true for so many people.

The history we’re taught today largely downplays women’s achievements, contributions, and successes while uplifting those of men. It’s a fact. Go look at famous female figures anywhere, you’ll find the same story at play over and over. Historically, fantasy as a genre largely portrays a world that is, in fact, fantasy, but that fantasy has nothing to do with women doing things they’re not “supposed” to. There’s no clubhouse. There’s nothing unrealistic in imagining your female character is a kickass queen who defeats overconfident men in wrestling competitions and robs them of all their horses. It’s not unrealistic to come up with an ending that doesn’t conclude in tragedy, violent deaths, them “learning their place,” or even locked within the bonds of an unhappy marriage. (Shocker!) Some did, but the truth isn’t universal. It’s not even unrealistic to imagine they might have supportive male family members, love interests, and followers who happily (gasp) assist them in these endeavors. Maude, for reference, had bastard half-brothers who helped her instead of trying to take the throne for themselves.

History got here before fantasy authors. There’s nothing unrealistic about reality. Popular conceptions and common knowledge fed to us by the majority male dominated culture isn’t always the truth. Reality is, it’s the stories we see normalized across the media spectrum that are wrong. The ones that insist women are objects, who commodify their pain, and reframe their stories to ensure the focus remains on men. While this is changing, women are still often treated as the NPCs of male driven stories.

The people you hear complaining? They want storytelling traditions to stay that way, for the Great Man values countless narratives have reinforced to remain unchallenged. Funny as it sounds, they’re threatened by the very existence of narratives that countermand that centralized focus on men being superior, that there is a stratified gender hierarchy, and men taking their place as the sole, worshipful focus of a woman’s existence, much less these female characters being important in their own narratives. If these people weren’t threatened by female characters being people, they wouldn’t say anything. They’d just move on in apathy.

Reality is people are complicated. There’s room for all stripes in all colors and contexts. It’s no secret that history has suppressed and erased countless stories that don’t support the ruling narrative of the dominant culture. These same people forget there’s plenty of storytelling traditions that include women taking their place as warriors in cultures outside America. For all the sexism and misogyny, women fighting is not an alien concept, it’s not even foreign to other Western European traditions.

Believe what your own research is showing you, not what a bunch of idiots who can’t tell their ass from their elbow are whining about. They can’t handle someone who isn’t straight, male, and (most often) white being the central focus. Really, they can’t handle these characters as even a side focus. That’s their loss, it doesn’t have to be yours.

-Michi

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#Michi answers #how to fight write #writing advice #writing reference #writing tips #history

[aroceu]

i've been rewatching the good place with a friend lately so i've been thinking about it a lot and i just keep thinking

about how eleanor says so much that she's not a bad person, she's just a "medium" person. she didn't kill anyone, she didn't technically abuse anyone, she was selfish but not "horrible," she was human.

except when we see eleanor pre-death, we see something different. no, she didn't murder anyone. but she was pretty horrible. she was really good at lying to elderly people to sell them fake drugs. she abused her friend's dog. she lied to her coworkers to get out of driving for them at the bar. she felt so threatened by people feeling like they were better than her that when she saw concrete proof that a coffee shop manager was misogynistic and sexually assaulted someone, she enthusiastically supported the cafe to be contrary to her boyfriend.

she is very obviously a horrible person. even in season 2, michael calls her a manipulative demon; that's not something you get called if you're just a "medium" person. what we're told, and what her reasoning is a lie. but she doesn't know it. it's a lie to the viewers.

she also stands in stark contrast with jason—who has broken the law multiple times, has gotten arrested multiple times, likes celebrities and hobbies that have a terrible reputation (not just for being "trash" but for being actively hateful), and even if he might not have killed someone, there's probably something in his repertoire that comes close. but at the same time, it's very, very obvious to see that he's a good-hearted person, who wants to do more good than harm. compared to eleanor, whose bad actions are much smaller in comparison, but her bad personality makes her less likable, and much worse. yes, of course it's about environment—but it's also about how goodness might be more accurately judged by intent than by action.

i saw someone say that it was unrealistic that eleanor didn't call chidi a racial slur when she was a white woman from arizona. sentimentally, i agree with the realism argument. but at the same time, i think it would've been out of place. eleanor would know that saying a slur is on a different level of wrong. a lot of the bad things she did were indirect; it was a lot about what she did when no one was looking. but she didn't want to see herself as a horrible person, so she wouldn't have wanted anyone to see either. as long as they didn't get too close for her.

eleanor being a "medium" person is a lie. of course she belongs in the bad place. she's initially presented as a "medium person" because the story wants us to be on her side, wants us to believe that she's as human as us, until the season one flashbacks start to tell a different story. then it makes us squint and go, no, eleanor really is a terrible person. but the show is aware of this too!

and yet, the thesis of the show is that bad people can always get better. that no one is beyond rehabilitation; that society fucks us up but it's still the choices that we make that mean the most about who we are in the end. we get to see the growth of eleanor's good person journey through the entirety of season one, so that even as we realize she was a shitty person on earth, we're still rooting for her by the end of it. season one is the show's entire thesis; seasons two through four are just proving it to us. and eleanor proves herself to us over and over again, so that even as we know how terrible she was, and how terrible she's capable of being, we still know and believe that she belongs in the good place at the end.

#eleanor is just. a really good protagonist!!!! ugh #also i just love the good place and i kept thinking about this #the good place #tgp #eleanor shellstrop #i guess #i will not often write meta about white women but mike schur really went hard with this one #an aroceu original

[hotvintagepoll]

Propaganda

Eleanor Parker (Scaramouche, The Sound of Music)— Eulogized as a ravishing beauty whose looks were merely ornamental to her craft, feast your eyes on Eleanor Parker. Listen! I know you're thinking of the Baroness in Sound of Music and saying NO I won't protect the woman who tried to steal him from Maria but forget about that (like you personally wouldn't shoot your shot with Plummer)! The trailer for Scaramouche describes her character Lenore as "The glamourous queen of the nightlife of Paris. A flame-haired wildcat" and this is a woman who was able to pull off that role, and you get the vibe she was like that irl too. There's a story about her changing hair colors that never fails to make me laugh. Take note of her stunning eyes! Her amazing legs! And to see her in motion is to make note of the aura about her, she has an amazing presence. Fall in love with Eleanor Parker today, and make your vote count!

Audrey Hepburn (My Fair Lady, Sabrina, Roman Holiday)—Growing up, Audrey Hepburn desperately wanting to be a professional ballerina, but she was starved during WWII and couldn't pursue her dream due to the effects of malnourishment. After she was cast in Roman Holiday, she skyrocketed to fame, and appeared in classics like My Fair Lady and Breakfast at Tiffany's. She's gorgeous, and mixes humor and class in all of her performances. After the majority of her acting career came to close, she became a UNICEF ambassador.

This is round 3 of the tournament. (yes I know it says round 2 in the poll. sometimes I post these when I’m sleepy.) All other polls in this bracket can be found here. Please reblog with further support of your beloved hot sexy vintage woman.

[additional propaganda submitted under the cut.]

Eleanor Parker:

“When I’m spotted somewhere, it means that my characterizations haven’t covered up Eleanor Parker the person. I prefer it the other way around.” So shy she was actively nervous about winning awards in person, her personal life remains mostly behind the scenes. But on screen? she was a force majeure. It's a shame the role most people remember her in is the Baroness in The Sound of Music, but then again, it did make Christopher Plummer reminisce upon her passing “I was sure she was enchanted and would live forever.”

Listen we all know Christopher Plummer and Julie Andrews had insane chemistry but the Baroness deserves some love too! She has such a glamorous presence but not in a hard way

She will be known as the fabulous baroness in TSOM, but she was so much more than that. Just as comfortable in westerns or melodrama, the scheming other woman, and the beauty that wins the heart of every man in town.

Audrey Hepburn propaganda:

"She may be a wispy, thin little thing, but when you see that girl, you know you're really in the presence of something. In that league there's only ever been Garbo, and the other Hepburn, and maybe Bergman. It's a rare quality, but boy, do you know when you've found it." - Billy Wilder

Raised money for the resistance in nazi occupied Hungary. Became a humanitarian after retiring. Two very sexy things to do!

where to begin......... i wont her so bad. i literally dont know what to say.

My dude. The big doe eyes, the cheekbones, the voice. The flawless way she carried herself. She was never in a movie where she wasn't drop dead gorgeous. Oh, also the fact she raised funds against the Nazis doing BALLET and she won the Presidential Medal of Freedom for her humanitarian work.

"It’s as if she dropped out of the sky into the ’50s, half wood-nymph, half princess, and then disappeared in her golden coach, wearing her glass slippers and leaving no footprints." - Molly Haskell

"All I want for Christmas is to make another movie with Audrey Hepburn." - Cary Grant

64.media.tumblr.com

I know people nowadays are probably sick of seeing her with all the beauty and fashion merch around that depicts her and/or Marilyn Monroe but she is considered a classic Hollywood beauty for a reason. Ironically in her day she was more of the alternative beauty when compared to many of her contemporaries. She always came off with such elegance and grace, and she was so charming. Apparently she was a delight to work with considering how many of her co-stars had wonderful things to say about her. Outside of her beauty and acting ability she was immensely kind. She helped raise funds for the Dutch resistance during WWII by putting on underground dance performances as well as volunteering at hospitals and other small things to help the resistance. During her Hollywood career and later years she worked with UNICEF a lot. Just an all around beautiful person both inside and out.

No one could wear clothes in this era like she could. She was every major designer's favorite star and as such her films are time capsules of high fashion at the time. But beyond that, she had such an elegance in her screen presence that belied a broad range of ability. From a naive princess, to a confused widow, to a loving and mischievous daughter, she could play it all.

Look at that woman's neck. Don't you want to bite it?

#audrey hepburn #eleanor parker #hotvintagepoll #fuck that old woman #ladies 3 #Youtube

[bqstqnbruin]

The Party's Over, Go Home

Hello hello here I am with my fic for @wyattjohnston's winter fic exchange!

I had the pleasure of writing for @sc0tters I hope you like it!

Shoutout to @kat-hearts @matthewtkachuk and @raysofcrosby for reading through this and getting mad at me :)

This is inspired by Intrusive Thoughts by Natalie Jane, Deserve by Jake Clark, and the Gilmore Girl's episode from season 5 called The Party's Over

Warnings: swearing, alcohol, family financial issues, this is angst, the spacebar on my computer is starting to break so typos (I tried)

WC: 11k

__________________________________

“We should do something tonight.”

“I was going to go to bed early, actually.”

“You do that every night.”

“What, are you stalking me now?”

“No,” Kendyl draws out. “You stop texting me by like, 8:30 every night. Your phone is on do not disturb half an hour later. Either you’re asleep early, or you’re ignoring everyone by then.”

Ellie narrows her eyes at her coworker. They still weren’t close enough that she felt she could comfortably hang out with the people she worked with outside of the workday. She had only been at her new job for a month, still getting the hang of things, trying to get to know people and figure everything out. Spending time outside her apartment with people who were practically strangers when she could be in her warm bed with her flannel sheets that she loved more than anything on this planet? “I don’t like that you picked up on that.” 

“Well, too bad,” Kendyl says, sitting down on Ellie’s desk. “A bunch of us are going out tonight, so why not?” Ellie hesitates to answer. “If it sucks, you can go home at ten. You’ll be in bed by 10:30, two hours later than normal. And it’s Friday, we don’t have work tomorrow for you to use that as an excuse as to why you have to get up early, and you already told me that the only thing you planned on doing this weekend was laundry and cleaning.”

Ellie let out a long sigh. Maybe Kendyl did know her well enough to be able to call her out on her shit already. “God.”

“I don’t know if you’re religious or not to know if that’s a yes.”

“Fine,” she says, shuddering at Kendyl’s squeal of excitement. “But you’re buying at least one round and I get to leave at 9:30 if I want to.” 

“Deal.” 

Ellie’s day was full of dread, from spending the rest of work distracted about having to go out with seemingly everyone at her job, so the stress involved with getting ready and trying to look like someone who was actually 24, not the ‘1980’s power boss bitch without the hair and shoulder pads’ as Kendyl described her as multiple times, even do walking to the bar that Kendyl had picked that felt way too conveniently down the street from her apartment. 

“I’m surprised you even had someone convince you to go out,” her younger brother, Alex, says on the other end of their phone call. As soon as he saw Ellie leaving her apartment on Find My Friends, he called her panicked that something was wrong. “You never went out in college. I had to beg you to go to that one party the time I visited you.”

“That’s because you were still seventeen and Mom would have killed me if she found out you went.”

“She knew I was going to try anyway.”

“I’m going out because I was promised free drinks and the prospect of going home early if I want to. It’s not like I’m being forced to go out against my will.” 

“I promised you free drinks.” 

“Alexander.”

“Eleanor. Just be safe, ok? Let me know when you get home.”

“You sound like Mom.”

“If I were Mom, I would be yelling at you for not wearing a jacket.”

“How do you know I’m not wearing a jacket?”

“You never wear a jacket. Mom has been yelling at you about that since you were five.” 

Ellie lets out a laugh, a sudden chill coursing through her when she realizes she can see her breath. “How is Mom, have you checked in on her?’

“Yes, Ellie.”

“In person?”

“Yes, Ellie. She’s good. At least, she says she is.” 

The two of them stay on the phone in silence for a moment, knowing what he really means. Ellie and Alex hated the topic of how their mom was doing, but if they didn’t talk about it with each other, who else did they have? Their mom and Alex still live in the same area even if Alex was away at college and living in a dorm rather than with her. Ellie was on the other side of the continent now, for a job that she barely had any friends at, in a city she still barely knew, surrounded by things she wasn’t used to. 

“Hey, I’m outside the bar now, I’ll talk to you later?” she ends the call, taking in one last deep breath before heading into what she was sure was going to be 

“You came!” Kendyl yells once Ellie finally manages to get into the bar. “Here’s the first drink.”

Before Ellie could even tell Kendyl she wasn’t ready yet to start drinking, the drink was pressed to her chest and nearly spilled down the front of her. Despite it being early enough in the night that no one should be drunk by now, Kendyl and the rest of her coworkers seemed to be well on their way with Ellie needing more drinks than she could count to catch up. 

The night goes by slowly, the drinks going away fast, and Ellie sitting in the corner while her coworkers, who are obviously close, talk about a bunch of inside jokes from before she was hired that Ellie was unable to participate in.

“Remember when he ordered the wrong cake?” Wesley slurs, punching Doug in the shoulder.

“I swear she told me to say, ‘Happy Retirement,’” Douglas defends himself.

“It was my 28th birthday, not my retirement?” Hazel says, everyone except Ellie bursting into a fit of laughter.

“What about when Sammy dialed 911 during the meeting?” Kendyl adds through wheezes, the remains of her drink nearly spilling on Ellie’s shirt, again.

“It fell out of my pocket and bounced weird!”

“How does a bouncing phone dial 911?”

“That’s the set up to a bad pick up line.”

“More like the setup to a story that makes no sense,” Ellie mutters, thankful that her coworker's howling laughter was too loud to hear her.

She gets up from the table, draining her drink on her way to the bar. It was only 9:15. She promised Kendyl 15 more minutes. The least she could do was down another drink in that time before pulling her classic Irish exit to go home and get in bed. 

“Rum and coke?” she asks once she gets up to the bar, the sticky wooden counter acting as anything but inviting for her to lean on. 

“Me, too, and put it on my tab,” someone says behind her, Ellie’s face immediately turning sour at the thought of some guy buying her a drink to probably get her to hook up with him.

“My friend is paying for it, actually,” she turns to him, surprised to find a seemingly innocent-looking guy around her age and not the middle-aged gross man she thought he would be. Anything was possible, and looks can be deceiving.

“Which friend, the one who almost spilled her drink on you or the one of the ones who have been ignoring you the entire night and letting you sit in silence while they have a good time around you?”

“I already don’t like you.” 

“My friends pointed you out and said you were me when they drag me out to bars.”

“So you’re the friend who they barely know and who they only invited out of pity?”

“That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” he says, the pink rushing to his cheeks as he turns away out of embarrassment. “Sorry, um. I’m going to go sit down now.”

“You haven’t gotten your drink yet,” Ellie points out, his sudden bashfulness making Ellie soften for him. “I just moved here. I don’t really know any of them too well.”

“I know what that’s like,” he tells her, leaning against the bar. 

“You’re not from here, either?”

He shakes his head. “Born in Orlando, moved to Boston, then moved to Toronto, and kept going from there.” 

“That sounds unstable,” she says, passing one of the newly appeared glasses of alcohol to the guy in front of her.

He shrugs, lifting the drink to his lips. “Well, they say you are a product of your environment.” 

Ellie lets out a laugh, the first one that she had let out all night. “That’s dark. But also, kinda hot,” she repeats, the pink returning to his cheeks again.

“I’m never gonna live that down, am I?”

“Depends on how long we keep talking.”

“Hopefully it lasts past tonight.”

“It can’t if you don’t tell me your name. I’m Ellie.”

“I’m Quinn.”

Ellie loses count of how many drinks Quinn gets her, how long they’re talking, and when all of her coworkers leave the bar, not even telling her that they were leaving without her. 

She could feel the warmth of the alcohol coursing through her body, the bar getting busier the longer she and Quinn stood there. Someone shoves in between Ellie and whoever is behind her, pushing her into Quinn’s arms without her being able to catch her balance. His hand falls to the small of her back, spreading out to hold her steady. They stood there in silence, the rest of the bar a world away from them. 

“Are you ok?” Quinn whispers in her ear, his breath tickling her skin. 

Ellie stammers for a second, trying to process what just happened. The alcohol was making everything foggy, and the room starting to spin slightly around her as if Quinn was rocking her back and forth. “Um, I, yes?”

His eyes flickered down to her lips, the distance between them closing with each additional person, he was so close to kissing her. 

“I should go home,” Ellie says before he can, knowing that kissing him now would not be a good idea for either of them. 

His grip on her doesn’t relax, the disappointment Ellie expected to show up on his face not there at all. “I’m walking you home,” he tells her, slipping his hand into hers before she can protest. 

“You don’t have to do that.” 

“I want to.” 

The difference in temperature between the bar and outside hit Ellie faster than she could process it, her lack of jacket her brother had scolded her for earlier biting her in the ass harder than the cold was in the moment.

Ellie didn’t even process Quinn taking off his own coat, the one she didn’t even realize he had been wearing the entire time, and putting it around her shoulders before wrapping his arm around her and pulling her close. 

She was on autopilot, unsure how she managed to navigate her way to her apartment when her mind was on Quinn’s body pressed against hers. She just met him. She didn’t know much about him. She didn’t even know what he did for work and only knew that he had two brothers who lived in New Jersey even though that wasn’t one of the places that he mentioned living before. 

“Here,” Ellie barely gets out, surprised with herself for managing to get back to the right place. 

“Do you want me to walk you to your door?” Quinn asks, shoving his hands in his pockets when he finally lets go of her. 

“No, it’s fine.” 

Ellie goes to take off the jacket and give it back to him, the warmth something her drunk self quickly realized she was going to miss. “No, keep it. It looks better on you anyway,” Quinn tells her, pulling his things out of his pockets before turning away to head off.

She stands there for a few seconds, trying to process what had happened that night. 

“Wait, no,” Quinn says, appearing again in front of her. “I can’t leave without getting your number first.” 

“I couldn’t even tell you what my number is right now,” she admits, handing him her phone instead.

Quinn laughs, putting his number in. “I want to see you again, Ellie.”

She smirks at him. “We’ll see, Quinn.” 

___________________

“What do you mean you’re not bringing anyone?”

“No one said I had to bring anyone.” 

“Everyone brings someone. You have to bring a date to the holiday party.”

“Then why was one of the options on the RSVP ‘no’ to the question ‘will a guest be accompanying you?’”

Kendyl whines, earning a cringy look from Ellie. “You have no one you can bring?” 

Ellie rolls her eyes, leaning back in her desk chair. “Let’s see, I’ve been here for like, what, two months? I knew no one when I got here, I hate going out and don’t have anywhere to meet anyone, and somehow none of you here know anyone either. Who would I bring?”

“What about that guy you met at the bar that one time? I see his name popping up on your phone all the time.”

Ellie snatches her phone from her desk and holds it against her chest as Kendyl cranes her neck to see that her statement is actually fact, three messages from Quinn, a fourth appearing while they were talking. “You need to learn what a boundary is.”

“And you need to learn what the Focus feature is on your phone when you’re showing me things because his name always shows up.” 

She couldn’t invite Quinn to the party. She barely knew him, she couldn’t throw him into the party with a bunch of her coworkers who she also barely knew, putting her phone back on the desk without thinking. “He’s probably busy.”

Kendyl rolls her eyes, snatching Ellie’s phone from her desk before she can protest, fiddling with it while Ellie tries to process what could possibly be happening in front of her. “He’s not.”

“What?”

“He’s not busy.” 

“Ken, what did you do?” Kendyl hands Ellie back her phone, a quick conversation with Quinn on her screen, ‘Ellie’ asks him what he was doing the night of the holiday party and he immediately answers that he is free. “Why are you like this?” 

Kendyl shrugs, slowly backing away from Ellie’s desk. “You had fun talking to him at the bar, enough fun that he responded to you within seconds of being asked if he was free.” 

Ellie looks back at her phone as Kendyl finally leaves her alone. The whole idea of having to bring a date seemed archaic in a way that Ellie couldn’t quite put her finger on. Why did she have to bring someone she barely knew to a party with more people she barely knew?

But she really did know Quinn better than she was letting on. She still didn’t know what he did with his life, him weirdly making her promise not to look him up, which made Ellie immediately question if he was a serial killer. He wasn’t, allegedly, but that still didn’t make sense. 

She knew that he was from the States, went to school there until he left early for whatever job he had. He has two younger brothers, and apparently is known amongst his friends for looking like he was having a nonstop existential crisis, while also being nicknamed ‘Huggy Bear.’ She also knew that he was sweet, and listened to her when she went off on a tangent about something, him following right along and matching the energy she had. She knew that she wanted to see him again every night since she had met him that first time, and that he wanted the same thing.

His name came up on her phone, a call from him. “Hi, sorry, it’s easier to talk than text right now.”

“Why are you out of breath?”

“Workout.” Must be nice to have a job where he can just go and work out in the middle of the day, Ellie thinks to herself. “So, the 18th?”

“Yeah,” Ellie lets out, suddenly nervous. It felt like she was asking him for something much more serious than just going with her to an office party. “It’s the holiday party for my company, and apparently everyone needs to bring a date.”

“And you want me to find you one?”

Ellie’s jaw drops at his comment. “No, idiot, I wanted to bring you.” 

“Oh, thank god. I was running through my friends who would go and none of them are good enough for you.”

Ellie could feel the heat rushing to her cheeks at his comment. Did he consider this a date? Was it a date? Was it bad if she considered it a date and he didn’t? What if he didn’t? Why was her mind running at a mile a minute while Quinn was there on the other end of her phone waiting for her to say something else? “So that’s a yes?”

“Of course, it’s a yes. It’s one of the few nights I have off, I want to spend it with you.”

The next days went by in a blur, Ellie freaking out over everything from what she was going to wear, texting and calling Quinn even more, wishing that they could see each other sooner.

“It’s not obsessive, is it?” she asks Kendyl, staring at herself in the mirror. Kendyl insisted on coming over to Ellie’s place to get ready, telling her that her roommate had their partner over that night and the last thing she needed to do was try to use the bathroom to get rid when they had a habit of taking it over for more than a few hours.

“No, El, you just like him. I think it becomes obsessive when you start to stalk him and you show up to where he works unprovoked.” 

“Why do you say that like you’ve either done that or you’ve had that happen to you?”

“I’ll let you decide which one is better. What time is Quinn coming?”

“He’s supposed to get here in ten minutes.” 

“Just breathe, El. You’re going to have fun.” Kendyl left her to finish getting herself ready, her date already waiting outside to take her to the party. They could have all gone together, as pointed out by Kendyl, but it was better to not throw Quinn directly into the fire that was her closest coworker. 

Ellie’s phone starts ringing, not checking but expecting it to be Quinn calling to tell her he was early. She pops out of her seat to head to the door, picking up the phone and answering with an excited “Hi!”

“Eleanor?” 

Ellie stops in her tracks, her mom’s voice coming over her phone speaker. “Mom?”

“Sweetie, can you do me a favor?” 

Ellie felt her heart drop to her stomach, already knowing what her mom was going to ask her. It was the same thing that her mom always asked since she first got a job when she was in high school, every time she answered the phone while she was getting her degree, no matter where Ellie was in her life, it was never a call that a mother should have to make to one of her children this often. “Mom,” she lets out, knowing that she couldn’t say no.

“Please, Eleanor. I need the money. I, I-” 

“Mom, you promised,” Ellie cuts her off, not wanting to hear anymore even though she knew her mom would keep going.

“I thought I would get a raise before they sent the eviction notice this time.”

“Mom,” Ellie says, more exasperated this time. “You have to stop doing this. You do this to me every time.” 

“Alexander can’t help this time.”

Ellie heard a knock at her door, not even processing the fact that she should be looking through the peephole to make sure it wasn’t a murderer, opening it, and letting whoever it was in. Thankfully, it was Quinn, waving him in and motioning to give her a moment.

“Alex is still in college, already struggling because you’re no help. He shouldn’t have to give you anything in the first place.”

Quinn stands there, clearly uneasy at listening to only Ellie’s end of the conversation but following Ellie into her room regardless. He stands in the doorway, leaning against the frame with his arms crossed while he watches Ellie continue to get ready. 

“But you said last time that I couldn’t ask you again.”

“I didn’t mean for you to ask my little brother.”

“Eleanor, please. He’ll have nowhere to come home to. I’ll have nowhere to go home to.”

“What happened to everything you had last time I asked you?”

“It went towards all of the other bills, I promise. I’ll send you every confirmation for every bill I have.” 

“You’re not lying to me this time?”

“I’m not, I swear!”

“How many months did Alex cover?”

“Only half of one month.”

“How many months are you behind?”

“I swear I used everything I had to pay-”

“Mom, how many months are you behind?” Ellie knew she was raising her voice, forgetting that Quinn was even behind her. She stopped putting her makeup on at this point, knowing that the tears that were about to fall were going to ruin what she had already on, anyway. 

“Four.”

“Fuck, Mom.”

“Please?” her mom’s voice comes through, small and on the brink of breaking. “I know I’m still paying you back from last time. But what else am I supposed to do?’

“I’m sending it now,” she tells her, hanging up before her mother could say anything else. Ellie forgot Quinn was standing there in her doorway, putting her phone down on her vanity and putting her face in her hands. This couldn’t be happening again. Not again.

Quinn clears his throat, causing Ellie to jump. “Should I go?” he asks, creeping into her room.

Ellie wipes the tears from her cheeks, cursing herself mentally for now having to redo the makeup she already took too long to do the first time. “Uh,” she stammers, “No, no. I’ll be ready in a second.”

“Ellie,” Quinn kneels on the floor next to her, gently placing his hand on her thigh. “We don’t have to go to this.” 

“No, it’s fine, I’m fine.”

“El.” 

Ellie finally turned to him, the genuine concern on his face causing her to burst into tears. He reached up and pulled her close to him, his one hand on her back, the other holding her head on his shoulder, letting her cry on his white shirt. She hears him let out a quiet shushing noise, trying to comfort her in the way she had needed for so long. She cried for so long that she didn’t know how much time passed. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he whispers when she finally stops crying, not moving from their position. “Do you want to talk about it?”

She never told anyone about the stuff with her mom. Ellie had been holding it in for years, going from friend to friend, place to place, never letting this out with anyone who wasn’t her younger brother, the one person who would understand and who she knew also understood what it was like. 

But there was something about Quinn. She thought she could trust him, for whatever reason. She never told her ex-boyfriends in college or high school, despite the fact that this had been going on since then. 

Ellie takes in a deep breath. “The only people who know this are me, my mom, and my brother, do you understand?” she asks him, watching him nod. “It started, I think, when my dad left. I was probably 10? Alex was 6, maybe?  I don’t even remember, honestly. This probably started before Dad left, Alex and I think it’s why he left. But our mother is absolutely shit when it comes to money. Like, put us in debt every few months that then somehow fell to us as her children to bail her out.” 

“God,” Quinn lets out, Ellie continuing over him.

“I think we realized it was getting bad when she told us we were moving somewhere smaller right before I was starting high school, out of the blue, when we had already moved to ‘somewhere smaller’ three times in four years. Normally she said she had been planning it because we, of course, needed somewhere to live, and she didn’t like where we were, but that was weird. I didn’t realize it was because we had been evicted every single time until I found the seven eviction notices my second year of high school from the last three times and a notice that we were getting evicted that year, too.”

“Ellie, I’m so sorry,” he tells her, pulling her back in for a hug. 

She sighed, knowing that there was nothing more he could say. “At this point it’s normal, it’s just still frustrating when she tells me and Alex that she’s fine and that she has the money for everything, and then out of nowhere, tells us she hasn’t paid the rent for her current place in four months. Like, do you know what it’s like to have your mother owe you nearly a hundred thousand dollars because of how much she keeps needing?”

“I can’t even imagine.” The two of them sit in silence for a moment, neither of them sure what to do next. 

“I’m glad you can’t. It fucking sucks,” she says, turning back to her vanity mirror. “God, I don’t even want to go to this stupid party anymore.” 

“Hey, we don’t have to go if you don’t want to. We can stay here, we can go to my place, we can go somewhere else, we can do anything.”

“We?”

“I don’t want to leave you, Ellie. I came tonight because I wanted to spend time with you,” Quinn tells her, taking her hand in his. “If you’ll let me, I’ll take you wherever you want.” 

“You don’t have to.”

“Ellie, I want to be with you.” 

___________________

“Kendyl, I told you, I’m hanging out with Quinn and the rest of the guys tonight.” 

“Can I please come?”

“Absolutely not.” 

“But you’re dating the captain of the fucking Vancouver Canucks. You have to bring your best friend along with you.” 

“Alexander can’t come tonight either.”

“Ok, rude.”

Ellie was already nervous about meeting Quinn's teammates. It had taken a while for her to wrap her head around that he was not only a hockey player, but a professional one, and the actual captain of the team. Honestly, she didn’t see it coming. She had heard so much about Elias and Brock that she felt like she knew them at this point. She hadn’t even met them. As close as she had gotten to Kendyl in the last six months she spent at her job, and as much time as they spent together outside of work when she wasn’t with Quinn, she didn’t need Kendyl mixed into the group. 

“Let me meet them first, then we can talk about you meeting them, ok?” she tries to assure her, hearing a knock at her door. “I’ve gotta go, Quinn is here.”

She hangs up on Kendyl before she can protest, slightly worried that she would use the ‘Find my friends’ feature to just stalk the house they were going to and end up on the doorstep uninvited. 

“Hi,” she opens the door, stopping for a second to take him in. God, she hated how hard she fell for him in a short amount of time. He was perfect to her at that moment. 

He pulled her in for a kiss, one that made her wish they were staying in rather than heading to spend time with his friends. “Hi,” he whispers, kissing her again before pulling away. “You look amazing, as always.”

“I’m wearing jeans and a sweater,” she counters.

“And?” He could say anything to her with that stupid smile on his face and make her swoon. “Ready?”

They head out to his car, Ellie’s heart racing as they get closer and closer to Thatcher’s house. She wasn’t great with meeting large groups of people all at once, despite being in a new school nearly every year of her awkward teenage years and being forced to interact with new people every time. 

“Hey,” Quinn says, resting his hand on her thigh as he drives down the highway, giving her a gentle squeeze to try to calm her down. “You’re going to like the guys. And they’re going to love you.”

“Yeah?” she says, her voice shaking slightly. 

“How could they not?” he asks, taking her hand and bringing to his lips, his eyes glued to the road in front of them so he couldn’t see her melting at his words and his touch. “You’ll get along great with Elias.”

“He’s the one from Sweden?”

“Yeah,” Quinn tells her, pulling into the driveway of a house so massive Ellie wasn’t sure people could actually live in it. It was certainly bigger than anything she could have ever dreamed of being near, let alone being invited to. “He’s got kind of a dry humor. You’ll like him.”

Ellie takes in a deep breath, feeling incredibly inadequate just getting out of his car and standing on the pavement of a place like Thatcher’s house. Maybe she should have invited Kendyl. 

Quinn takes her hand, pulling her along to the door when everything inside her was telling her to turn around and just run. There was no way she was good enough to be in this house, not with everything in her life, not when Quinn and his teammates had everything they could possibly want at the tips of their fingers. 

He stops at the door, pulling her close to him, dropping her hand, and cupping her face to kiss her again, calming her immediately. “Hi,” he breathes when he pulls away.

“Hi again. What was that for?” she asked, his hands slipping down to her waist, sending a shiver through her entire body as he traced her sides. 

“I’m going to want to do that so many times tonight, but I know the guys will tease us for it. I’ve gotta do what I can now.” 

That shouldn’t have made her feel the way it did. He could say or do anything at this point and she would melt. 

They go inside, the house loud and full of people despite Quinn telling her that it was just supposed to be a ‘small get-together.’ Everything in the house looked expensive, Ellie’s anxiety immediately spiking. She followed Quinn blindly through the house, all of his teammates talking to him and him introducing her to all of them while she stood there nearly mute over the sheer stimulus overload that was all around her. She barely noticed the drinks that found their way in hers and Quinn's hands, drinking once she saw Quinn drinking it, as well. 

“Elias is right over here,” he whispers in her ear, his hand still in hers and giving her a reassuring squeeze as he leads her off into one of the side rooms. The room was quieter, the lights dimmer, and had a lot less people than any of the other rooms. 

“You got here half an hour ago and you’re just making it in here?” one of the guys asks as she and Quinn sit next to each other on the couch. “Ellie, you have to get him to go faster through the greetings next time. I cannot be left alone with Brock for this long.”

She looks at Quinn, confused as to how they already know her name. 

“You know I have to say hi to everyone, I’m captain.”

“As captain, you should be able to do one big greeting and let that be it so you can seclude yourself in a separate room where you don’t have to talk to everyone else,” one of the other guys said.

“Every time you talk, Brock, you add more to the long list of why you would make a horrible captain.”

“I would be a great captain.” 

“Elias, Brock, jeez.” 

“You know you can’t leave us alone for too long.” 

Ellie gets lost in their conversation, not even being able to contribute to what they were saying because their verbal sparring is so fast and so specific to their history with each other, she wouldn’t even know where to begin. Quinn puts his arm around her, pulling her closer to him by her waist. He looks at her while Brock and Elias continue bickering, smiling at her and giving her a soft kiss on her forehead. 

The guys interrupt them, jeering and teasing them to the point where Ellie has her face buried in Quinn’s shoulder, trying to hide from the embarrassment. “So, Ellie, what do you see in El Capitan here?” Brock asks, giving the most obnoxious facial expression possible.

“You do not have to answer that,” Elias tells her. “Brock has no idea how to interact with anyone, just ignore him.”

“That’s not true.” 

“You thought a good pick up line to use on a girl was ‘you dropped something, my jaw,’ the other night and then were shocked when she just turned and walked away,” Elias says, earning a laugh from Ellie and Quinn.

“You have definitely taken a girl out on a date and then talked about yourself the entire time,” Quinn adds, Brock shrinking further into his seat. 

“You look like the kind of guy that would go to a bookstore and pretend to look lost to see if a girl would talk to you,” Ellie adds, sending the guys into a frenzy. 

“He wouldn’t have to pretend to be lost,” Elias says, poking a pouting Brock in the leg. “You should come around more, Ellie.”

“She’s spent too much time with Quinn already,” Brock whines, Quinn pulling her so she’s practically in his lap, kissing her cheek.

“I told you,” he whispers, just loud enough for only her to hear. “I need you to come around more, too.” Ellie turns to him, her cheeks burning before they both burst out laughing. “That sounded horrible.”

The four of them fall into an easy conversation, the three boys doing everything they can to make Ellie feel included, not shying away from teasing her like they were each other earlier. She felt comfortable. 

Ellie eventually excused herself to go to the bathroom and get more drinks for her and Quinn, the alcohol finally hitting her. She barely finds her way back to the room the guys were in, Thatcher’s house seeming much bigger now that she wasn’t sober and much harder to navigate without Quinn taking her around.

She didn’t mean to listen to their conversation, standing on other side of the opening without them seeing her.

“Brock, I swear, if brains were dynamite, you wouldn’t be able to blow your fucking nose,” she hears Elias say, stiffling a laugh as Brock mumbles something about not meaning to spill his drink on Elias.

“Anyway,” Quinn grunts, sounding like he was getting off the floor.

“Ellie is awesome, by the way,” Elias says, Ellie sure she missed some sort of segue that could have led the conversation from Brock to Ellie.

“She’s snarky,” Brock adds, Ellie hearing a smack and Brock letting out a cough. “That’s not a bad thing.” 

“I met her by accident but I cannot think about what it would be like without her now,” she hears Quinn say, Ellie trying to figure out if she actually heard him right. That sounded like he was much more serious about her than she thought he was. 

“Woah, Quinn,” Elias says. “You met her a few months ago.”

“God, I know,” she hears Quinn let out. “But you know how you just know sometimes? You run into this person one day and they just make your life better?”

“You guys made my life worse since I met you,” Brock mutters. “I say goodnight to her every night and I can’t wait until I can say good morning to her the next day.” 

“You’re a simp.”

“Can you blame me? She’s perfect.”

Ellie finally enters the room, trying her best to pretend that she didn’t just hear everything Quinn told his friends, the ones he told her he would trust with anything. It had to mean something that they already knew who she was before coming and that he could tell them those things unprovoked.

Quinn lights up at the sight of her, giving her another kiss and wrapping his arms around her when she sits down. “You took a bit,” he comments. 

“This house is confusing,” she lies.

Elias and Brock continue to bicker while ignoring Ellie and Quinn. Ellie eventually finishes her drink, along with the third one that Brock had managed to hand off to her at some point, sinking down so her head was in Quinn’s lap.

“How often do you think about the future?”

“I mean, I’m normally thinking about what I’m making for my next meal once I finish the one I’m eating.”

Ellie groans, their hands intertwined and in constant movement, suddenly regretting how much they had both had to drink. She looks up at him, a smile on her face despite the look on his that told her he had absolutely no thoughts behind those eyes. “Like, us in the future. Our future.”

“Huh,” Quinn starts, “I don’t know. I like us right now where we are.” 

Ellie nods, trying to hide the disappointment that she felt. Why could he tell Elias and Brock what he thought about her, but not tell her? He hadn’t even called her his girlfriend to her face, yet. Were they even boyfriend and girlfriend yet? Was it too early to even ask, or should she even ask at all?

They were staying over at Thatcher’s house at this point, neither of them in the position to drive, Elias and Brock electing to stay on the couches. Quinn pulls her up and kisses her, a yawn escaping her after he pulls away. “Want to head to bed? Thatch said we can snag one of the guest rooms.”

Ellie nodded, Quinns hand in hers as he lead her down the hallway. She should be nervous, the first night they were spending together completely unplanned and in one of his teammates house instead of somewhere special. 

But it was with Quinn.

She was fine.  

___________________

“When are you going to be ready?” 

“When I am.”

“You’re taking way too long.” 

“I am not taking too long, you got ready too quickly.”

“Kendyl, I took an hour to get ready to meet Quinn and his friends, and you started getting ready before I got here,” Ellie groans, lying down on Kendyl’s bed. The group chat Ellie had with Quinn and the guys was blowing up, asking where Ellie and Kendyl were. After meeting Kendyl a while back, Quinn was convinced she would be the person to set Brock straight. Ellie wasn’t convinced, but what was the harm of introducing them?

“I’m meeting a Canuck, tonight, El, I have to look good.”

Ellie sits up, looking at Kendyl in her mirror. She knew her friend was nervous. No matter what she could say, nothing would change. “I promise you, you could wear nothing more than a trash bag and Brock would be drooling over you.” 

Kendyl took a deep breath. “Are you sure?”

“Ken, you’re beautiful. You’re funny. You can verbally spar with anyone to get what you want at any time. If you decide you want something to happen with Brock, there’s no way he wouldn’t agree to it.”

Kendyl nods, finally getting up and grabbing Ellie’s hand and her coat to drag her out the door. 

“Are we sure we’re going to have fun?” Kendyl asks, the shaking in her voice something Ellie had never seen before.

“You sound like me now.” It was still winter in Vancouver, the below freezing temperatures combined with the warmest bar appropriate outfits they had not enough to actually keep them warm as they walked through the city to meet all of the guys. 

“What are they like? I only know Quinn.”

Ellie has to stop and think for a moment. How did she even begin to describe them? “I think you just have to wait and see. Quinn is nothing like them.” 

“Oh, my god, you hate your boyfriend's friends.”

“No, what?” Ellie asks, unable to hide her laughter. “I really like his friends. I’m getting closer with Elias and Brock is definitely good for a laugh when you need it.” 

Kendyl nods, both of them shivering as they walk. Quinn had such a warm jacket, Ellie thought back to the night the two of them met. She wouldn’t have been able to see herlife with Quinn coming. She thought Kendyl was just an annoying coworker, Quinn would be just a hook up, and that she would end up having to move home because of her mom and Alex. She never thought it would be this. 

They get to the bar after feeling like they were walking forever, Quinn making a beeline to Ellie as soon as they made eye contact. “God, I’m happy you’re here,” he slurs, planting a sloppy kiss on her cheek.

“Wow, you’re already drunk,” she points out, trying to push him away slightly. Quinn had told her they were going into a break in the season, so getting drunk was necessary. She had seen him a little drunk, more tipsy than anything, but never like this, and never in public. “Let’s get you some water, babe.”

Quinn lets out a giggle, slinging his arm around Ellie while she focuses on him instead of getting Kendyl over to Brock. She looks around the bar for her friend, or at least one of the guys to hopefully help her make sure he doesn’t go much farther than he already was with the alcohol. 

“Ellie, right?” she hears from behind her as she sets Quinn down at the booth in the back where the rest of the guys were seated. She turns around, one of the new guys in the office standing behind her, glass of beer in hand. 

“Uh, yeah, hey. Dylan, right?”

“Declan, actually,” he corrects her, a quick apology escaping her lips. “Sorry, I don’t mean to interrupt, I just saw Kendyl over by the bar and she mentioned you were here. I wanted to say hi.”

Even though it was darker in the bar, Ellie swears she saw him blushing, fidgeting and acting nervous in front of her. The guys didn’t seem to notice she was even standing there, but Declan seemed to be trying to take in everything about her. 

“Are you here with anyone?” she asks, feeling Quinn pull her into his lap, Ellie falling without an ounce of grace down towards him. “Sorry, this is my boyfriend, Quinn, and some of his friends.”

“Uh, hi,” he says, Ellie feeling Quinns arms wrap tighter around her as Declan talks, “I’m here with my roommate, but I lost him about half an hour ago.” 

“You should join us then,” Quinn says, moving him and Ellie further into the booth to make room for Declan. The tone in his voice told her he really didn’t want to do that. 

Kendyl finally comes back with drinks, Quinn taking the beer that was meant for Ellie and downing it much faster than he should have. Brock was already captivated by Kendyl as soon as she sat down, Elias rolling his eyes as he was making a fool of himself, Kendyl finding it weirdly endearing.

“So, Deacon,” Quinn starts, much louder than he should have been. “How do you know my girlfriend?”

“Uh,” Declan says, as caught off guard by Quinn’s sudden shift in mood as Ellie is, “I work with her. Just started about a month ago.”

Quinn nods. “What did you do before this?”

“I was a nurse in the ICU at Vancouver General.” 

“Couldn’t handle it, Derek?” 

“Quinn, what?” Ellie scoffs. 

Declan coughs, clearly getting uncomfortable fast. “It was a lot, so no. I liked helping people, but seeing traumatic thing after traumatic thing takes a toll on you really fast. So I went back to school and ended up with Ellie and Kendyl.” 

“Ah, a college degree.” 

“Quinn,” Ellie hissed. She didn’t like where this was going, Quinn holding on to Ellie like he was marking his territory. 

“I actually don’t have my degree, yet.”

“Interesting thing to brag about?” Declan says, nervously sipping on his beer. 

“Well, it’s hard to finish when you get called up to play with the Canucks, you know?”

Declan shrugs. “Is that the CFL team? I don’t follow sports.”

Ellie gets off Quinns lap, pushing Declan aside and dragging Quinn along with her. She didn’t need to hear what Quinn was going to say next. He was starting to act like a jackass and she didn’t want to see more. 

The two of them end up outside, the cold hitting Ellie like a slap in face. “What is wrong with you? He wasn’t doing anything for you to act like that to him.”

“I don’t like him,” Quinn pouts.

“You just met him.”

“I don’t like people who are trying to take my girl.”

Ellie can’t help but scoff. “‘Take your girl?’ What, am I your property? Did you get a good dowry? How many sheep did you have to give my family in exchange for your hand?”

Quinn rolls his eyes. “Come on, Ellie.”

“No, Quinn, you come on. He wasn’t hitting on me. He doesn’t even know me to like me.”

“Of course he likes you, Ellie, look at you.” Quinn takes a step closer to her, suddenly getting softer towards her. “You’re so pretty. You’re so smart. You know what to do with everything.” 

“If he likes me, that doesn’t matter,” Ellie snaps, still annoyed with him. “I don’t like him. I like you. I’m dating you. That should be enough for you to not act like an asshole towards him.”

Quinn hangs his head. “I’m sorry.” 

“You should be saying that to him.”

The two of them stand there in the cold in silence, Ellie not wanting to budge and Quinn wanting her to go with him. “Come with me?”

Ellie bites her lip, her mood ruined because of him in just a short amount of time. “I think I’m going to go home. I’m tired, anyway.”

“Let me walk you?” Just like the night they met.

“No, it’s fine. I’ll let you know when I’m back.”

They stand there for another moment, Quinn making the first move to pull Ellie in for a kiss. “I love you, Ellie.”

Ellie hadn’t been thinking about love with him yet. She wasn’t there yet. “Goodnight, Quinn,” she told him, turning and walking away, leaving him there on the sidewalk.

___________________

“Have you ever loved anyone?” 

“Uh, you.”

“Not that kind of love, idiot.”

“Oh, um. I was in love with Tess Virtue for a while there.”

“While I get that, I still don’t mean that kind of love, Alex.” 

Alex laughs on the other end of the call, Ellie getting ready for work while he got ready for class. “El, you’re the other sister here, aren’t I supposed to be asking you this?”

Ellie and Quinn were in a weird place since Ellie left that night. She had hoped that Quinn was too drunk to remember that he had told her loved her and Ellie’s response was just to walk away. She didn’t know if she was in love with him. She knew she wanted to be with him. She didn’t know if she loved him.

“I mean,” Ellie starts, not sure where to go. 

“Are you and Quinn ok?” Ellie tells her brother everything that happened, Alex staying silent for a few seconds after she finished. “Ellie, you did this last time.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Not to go psychology major on you,” Alex says, earning a groan from his sister, “But I think you’re more messed up from Dad leaving than you like to admit you are. You have what sounds like a solid relationship with this guy but you’re afraid that if you let him love you and you let yourself love him, that he’s going to leave just like Dad did. He left us with Mom and we never got that love back.” 

Ellie takes a deep breath. “Jesus. At least I know your degree is worth it.” 

“I could be wrong. I’m only six semesters into this degree, after all.”

“I hate you.” 

“I love you, too, El.” 

Everything goes back to her parents. There’s no reason she couldn’t love Quinn. 

She was in a daze on her commute to the office. Does she love him? Regardless of Alex’s psychoanalysis, even if their dad leaving them with their mom made her think anyone who would love her would leave, is she able to love him?

She wanted to be with him, but she didn’t know what it was like to love him.

“You look horrible,” Kendyl says, Declan trying not to make eye contact with her at their little desk clump, probably trying to not agree. 

“Thank you, for that,” Ellie huffs, dropping her bag on the floor before she falls into her chair. “I just had a weird morning. Don’t really want to talk about it.” 

The morning passes by in a blur, the menial tasks of her job at least giving Ellie something to take her mind off Quinn. Anytime her mind would start to wander, anytime she thought about him in any way, she would just switch back to work mode and force herself to do whatever it is she needed to do.

“Hey,” Ellie thinks she hears from behind her, someone sounding just like Quinn. She ignored it, figuring it was just her imagination and her officially losing her mind over what was going on in her relationship. “Babe?”

Ellie jumps, thoroughly surprised that Quinn was actually standing behind her. “I thought you were leaving for Florida today.”

Quinn pulls her up, kissing her hello, a soft look on his face that told Ellie that everything was ok. “We leave in a few hours, so I wanted to come by and surprise you. Do you have a minute?”

Ellie nods, following Quinn down to the lobby of the building. She knew that if she went somewhere in the office, Kendyl would probably have her ear glued to the other side of the wall of whatever room they were in to try to listen to their conversation. 

“So, you don’t love me,” Quinn lets out slowly, pausing a little between each word, breaking Ellie’s heart each time.

“God,” she lets out.

“It’s ok.” They stand in silence, what they had with each other when they first met already somehow dying off between them. “I’m ok.”

“I want to love you. You know I have other things going on that are messing with my mind. You know me.” 

Quinn rolls his eyes, Ellie taking a step back. “What, the stuff with your mom?” Ellie gives him a small nod. “You can’t keep using that as an excuse, Ellie,” he snaps.

Ellie recoils at his words, the person in front of her not the same one who told her would always be there for her when she needed him, that he would help if she would let him and that he wanted to be there, for her and with her, for everything. This was someone who wouldn’t do any of that. “It’s not an excuse. It’s my life, Quinn. You grew up never having to worry about coming home from school and learning that the lights were turned off, or getting scared that the heat would get cut off in the middle of the winter, or that you were two days away from living in a car,” she nearly yells at him, catching him off guard. “I’m sorry that it messed me up and I’m trying to fix it and at least be honest with you about it because I want to be with you.” 

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, you idiot. I want to be with you. But I don’t know what it’s like to be loved by someone who stays. I don’t know what it’s like to love someone who wants to stay. I think I love you, but I don’t think that my work is the place to figure it out.” 

Quinn smiles at her, hugging her and holding her tight, every part of her relaxing as he does so. “That’s all I need. That’s all I want.” 

___________________

“Ok, if we have to stay all night, then we’re ordering food.” 

“I never agreed to staying all night.” 

“Ellie, we have to get this done before we go home.”

“Yeah, but I have plans tonight. I’m not staying all night, extra pay or not.”

Declan groans, a stupid smile on his face. “Are you driving to these plans tonight?”

Ellie gets a bad feeling in her stomach, one that puts a smile on her face regardless. This project had forced them together much more often than Quinn probably would have liked if he found out. The client was demanding it be done three weeks faster than anticipated,which meant they had to get it done before Monday. “Nope. Why?” Declan gets up from the table the two of them and Kendyl are sitting at in the conference room to give them more space to spread out, running over to his desk and yanking one of the drawers open. “Dex, what are you doing?” Ellie calls.

The three of them had already been in the office much longer than everyone else, the rest of their colleagues having left early for the weekend while the three of them stayed behind.

Ellie had plans with Quinn that night for the first time in a while.

“Getting this,” Declan says, pulling her out of the spiraling thoughts she was having about her relationship.

He holds up three plastic red cups and a bottle of rum, the one alcohol that Ellie could stomach without any mixer, a sociopathic tendency as Kendyl would call it. “Why is that there?” Kendyl asks.

Declan shrugs, popping open the bottle with ease and pouring way more than a single shot into each of the cups. “One of the clients gave it to me as a thank you.”

“We never get alcohol as a thank you,” Ellie scoffs, Kendyl agreeing.

“Men,” Kendyl rolls her eyes.

Declan laughs, raising his cup to Ellie and clinking it against hers, downing it in a few seconds as he watches Ellie do the same. Both of them cough, the liquid burning down their throats much more than they were expecting, neither of them breaking eye contact with each other while forgetting Kendyl was there with them. “Alright, we work until we’re done. We refill when we need to.”

Ellie smiles at him, the warmth of the alcohol already coursing through her. Her phone starts buzzing, a call coming in from someone whose contact she can’t quite make out. “No phones.”

The three of them get to work, the sun setting without them realizing it as their phones keep buzzing over and over again. They weren’t even entirely sure what the project was that their boss was asking of them, but then again, when were they ever?

They had to have been working for at least two hours straight without moving, feeling like they hadn’t even made a dent in the amount of tasks they had for the project. “I need to go home,” Kendyl groans, rubbing her hands over her face.

“We need to finish this,” Ellie points out.

“We need more alcohol.” Declan gets up, already somehow emptying the bottle into their three cups. He winks at Ellie, yet again ignoring Kendyl and sending a chill down Ellie’s spine before heading back out of the conference room without another word. 

Kendyl squeals once he’s out of earshot, shaking Ellie’s arm. “Oh, my god, he is so obsessed with you.”

“He is not,” Ellie insists, the heat running to her cheeks at the thought of her coworker liking her. She’s dating Quinn. Dating a coworker is out of the question. Dating Delcan isn’t even a thought.

“Ellie, I’m not even here when he’s around. You two are flirting so much.”

“I’m not sure you know what flirting is.”

“What about Quinn?”

Ellie’s stomach churned at his name. “Quinn and I are fine,” she tells Kendyl, trying to ignore how high her voice got involuntarily. 

“El.”

“Ken.”

“You’re lying to me.” Ellie bites her lip, hating that Kendyl knew her well enough to tell. “What’s going on with you two? You were off last time I saw you together.”

Ellie sees Declan out of the corner of her eye shifting around the desks outside the conference room. “I have no idea.” Kendyl stays silent, Ellie feeling like she has to fill the space. “We see each other less and less now, part of it because of both our jobs right now.”

“Well, that makes sense, that happens.”

“But when we do spend time together, we don’t say anything. We barely talk anymore at all. It’s like we ran out of things to say.”

“Who has nothing to say?” Declan interrupts, plopping down in his chair with another bottle of rum.

“Ellie and Quinn. Why do you have another bottle?” Kendyl asks.

“I have many bottles. Who’s Quinn?” 

“Ellie’s boyfriend.” 

Declan just nods, giving Ellie an uneasy feeling as they both take a sip of their drinks again, the eye contact between them mixed with the alcohol making her mind spin. “We’re just going through a weird phase right now. We’ll get through it.”

Kendyl recaps what Ellie told her, unprompted, to Declan, who infuriatingly just sits there, the alcohol making him look way too attractive for Ellie’s liking. “You don’t want my opinion, do you?” he asks.

“Kendyl gives me hers all the time when I don’t want it, you might as well give yours.”

“You’re both busy. That happens.”

“See?” Ellie prods Kendyl. 

“But,” Declan starts again, Kendyl sticking her tongue out at Ellie like a child, “Being busy could also mean not being willing to make time for each other.” 

Ellie took in a deep breath, hating what he was saying. It wasn’t like he said that much, but he said enough. The room suddenly felt too small, the work too overwhelming, the alcohol hitting her all at once. “I’m going to go to the bathroom,” she says, practically running out of the room. 

Are she and Quinn not making enough time for each other? Are they just ending their relationship without saying that it’s over? She didn’t think she wanted to break up with him, but at this point, what was staying with him doing for her? 

Ellie looks at herself in the mirror. She didn’t know if it was the alcohol distorting her perception of herself or if it was the mirror that probably hadn’t been cleaned in a while, but she didn’t look like herself. She looked off. She had felt off for a while, but she had no idea why. 

Was it because of Quinn? Ellie had heard that to be loved was to be changed, but what happens when you don’t like how you’ve changed? How much should she fight to get things back to the way there were when they first started seeing each other? What has to happen for her to just give up instead?

“Hey, sorry,” Declan startles Ellie, causing her to lose her balance and stumble against the sink. “I’m sorry that I upset you.”

“No, uh,” Ellie starts, wiping a tear from her cheek she didn’t even know had fallen, “You didn’t upset me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Declan’s voice is gentle as he takes a step closer to you, waiting for her to nod. “If you aren’t happy, why are you still with him?”

Ellie shrugs, not wanting to look at him. If she looks, she’ll fall apart. “I love him. I do. He knows me better than anyone. I’ve told him things I haven’t told anyone outside of my family, not even Kendyl. But sometimes,” she takes in a breath, her voice shaking. “Sometimes I wonder if it was all for nothing. We have no time for each other anymore. I see Kendyl more than I see him.”

“Ellie,” he says, his voice low as he steps closer to her. She was sure he could hear her heart racing. 

She was dating Quinn.

Quinn.

“Oh, fuck,” Ellie practically yells. “What time is it?”

“Uh, 8:30.”

“Quinn was picking me up at 8:15.” Ellie runs from the bathroom, leaving Declan calling after her. She grabs her stuff from the conference room without saying a word to Kendyl. 

She hears Declan in the background, calling after her as she runs down the stairs, dropping things in the stairwell that she doesn’t bother to pick up. She was rattled, Quinn already waiting for what had now become twenty minutes without her so much as texting him back the entire time.

Declan catches up to her, everything she’s dropped in his hands when she bursts through the front door of the building, Quinn’s car at the curb with him leaning against it scrolling on his phone. He looks up, his eyes going between his disheveled girlfriend and the one guy that she talked to that he was worried about, equally out of breath and carrying her things, both of them looking panicked.

He could tell Ellie was drunk. He knew she was drinking with him.

“What is this, Ellie?” he asks, trying to keep a calm tone in his voice as best as he can.

Ellie starts stammering, the alcohol not helping her at all. “We were doing that project I told you about, we lost track of time. I know I’m late but I wasn’t looking at my phone so we could finish as fast as possible.”

Quinn takes in a deep breath, looking up to the sky so he didn’t have to see her reaction to what he was about to say. “Ellie, I know he likes you. I told you likes you the night I met him. And, I know you like him, even if you don’t realize it yet. What am I doing here?”

Ellie steps toward him, her legs starting to shake as she tried to process what he was saying. “Quinn, you’re taking me out. You said we were meeting the guys tonight.”

“No, Ellie. I am. You’re gonna stay here.You’re gonna finish the project. You’re going to spend the night with Declan. You should be with someone who has time for you.”

“Quinn.” 

“We’ve both been busy. We’ve both had way too many things going on to focus on each other. We deserve better. You deserve better.”

“Quinn,” she repeats, standing right in front of him. She reaches up to his cheek, him leaning into her touch as he finally looks at her. “What are you saying?”

“You know, Ellie.” 

They stand there, forgetting Declan behind them and ignoring the world around them. Quinn cups her cheeks, kissing her like he did the very first time. “Bye, Eleanor.”

“Bye, Quinn,” Ellie whispers, not wanting to let go. 

Everything happened so fast. Ellie stood on the curb, wanting to drop her things right on the sidewalk and chase after him as he got in his car and drove away. She didn’t move as Declan came up behind her, gently putting his arm around her to try to comfort her. She didn’t hear him say that he wanted to get her back inside so that Kendyl could be with her, so that she’d have someone she trusted to talk to after what just happened.

She just stood there. 

___________________

Quinn was miserable. The guys were all with their partners, while Quinn sat in the middle with no one by his side. All he had was the beer in front of him that he didn’t even want to drink. 

He should be happy. They were already having a great season. They had already secured a playoff spot. The team was playing to have fun and winning was coming because of it. 

Brock comes up to him with Kendyl, the two of them still going strong. Quinn liked Kendyl, but seeing her still reminded him of Ellie, even if the two of them didn’t work together anymore. 

“Come on, buck up. There are plenty of girls here that you could at least talk to,” Brock tries to encourage him.

Quinn just shrugs him off, slowly turning the glass of beer around on the table. He wasn’t in the mood to be there, but there was no way the guys would let him leave this early. 

Brock leaves to get another round of drinks, Kendyl staying behind. “She’s doing ok, you know,” she says, barely above a whisper. 

Quinn sighs. “I miss her.” 

Kendyl puts her hand on his shoulder, giving him a sympathetic smile. “I know.”

They sit for a moment, both of them unsure what to say next. What do you say to someone who was still broken over something that should have never shattered in the first place?

“Hey, isn’t that that Dexter guy you work with?” Elias comes over and asks, pointing to the other side of the bar. 

Quinn feels the air escape his lungs, Ellie and Declan together, Declan holding on to her as a guy moved past them, pressing their bodies against each other. She didn’t hesitate to take the opportunity to drape her arms on his shoulders, getting up on her toes to kiss him, their foreheads pressed together when they pull away while they looked at each other like they were the only people in the world. 

“She’s happy,” Kendyl says. 

“She’s happier,” Quinn corrects her, his heart breaking at the fact that he couldn’t do that for her. 

#winter fic exchange 2024 #quinn hughes #quinn hughes one shot #quinn hughes fic #vancouver canucks #canucks

[atsadi-shenanigans]

You Could Just Ask

Summary:

“You still gonna be a jackass to our friends instead of just asking me to pleasure you?” you say. He swallows. His adam’s apple bobs. “If this is my reward, absolutely.” He can’t see you smile at this angle. He can feel your grip leave his cock to slide your fingers through his hair before you grab. Still slow, still steady, giving him plenty of opportunity to stop you. He don’t. He lets you pull his head back, bare his throat, and only whimpers and shivers against you.

Or: Astarion is terrible about communicating what he wants. But Eleanor is getting good at translating gremlin.

Astarion has been in a fucking mood for two days now. It’s driving you nuts, it’s driving everybody nuts, and by all accounts, it’s driving him nuts. Ain’t nobody can put a finger on it, neither. He’s well fed, y’all went on a murder spree day before yesterday, and he even found a nice, silk jacket to wear around camp.

Man’s got it made.

And decided to be a bitch about it.

You sit at the breakfast fire, needlessly poking at the embers with a stick while he makes snide swipes at Gale’s cooking (which he don’t eat), Karlach’s clutter (she just found a stuffed owlbear to match Clive), and Lae’zel sharpening her weapons (he got a point, there).

Even Wyll stares at the fire, shoulders set in a tense line. Something’s gonna snap if somebody don’t do something.

“It’s not as if you can deal any real damage,” Astarion says to Shadowheart, who tried to get him off Gale’s ass and is now taking the brunt of it. “We all saw how accurate your spells were in the temple.”

She looks all cool and collected. Just lifts one of her eyebrows. But her knuckles are white as her fists tremble. Shadowheart fought off the mother superior of her former, well, it ain’t called a church, here. But she fought the bitch and won and she paid for it.

“That’s it.” You stand

Astarion clocks the movement and turns to face you (stares down his nose at you; or tries to since you two are the same damn height).

“Y’all wanna head out?” you say over your shoulder to the others as they stash their day gear into their packs. “I think we’ll stay here, today.”

“Gladly,” Gale mutters in an outside voice.

“Welcome to it,” Karlach says which means hoo-boy, even she’s getting pissy.

Wyll gives you a blank look, that slowly morphs into a sly “good luck” sort of grin. Turd. Everybody thinks the Blade of Frontiers is so upstanding, much nobility, wow. But Wyll is a sly little shit, is what he is. He just hides it real good until it’s time to strike.

They all shuffle on outta there double quick. Astarion watches them go as he checks his nails for damage that ain’t there.

Then you’re alone—well and truly, Shadowheart and her half-elven hearing—and you turn to your exasperating lover.

“The fuck was all that?” you say.

He just looks at you, all unimpressed. Sniffs. “What was what, dear? You’ll have to be more specific.”

You will not throw your camp slipper at him. He dodges too well, and then you got to go fetch the damn thing before either Scratch of Sweetums gets it and demolishes it (or drops it in the river, bad dog) (but not really bad bad dog, and he got pets later on, anyway).

“You’re being a dick,” you say.

To which he, predictably, rolls his eyes. “As if it’s my fault we’re surrounded by incompetent idiots.”

His gaze flicks down. Just for a second. You almost miss it, but it landed on the top of your tunic. You got yourself a new one of those, too. But only to wear around camp, cause it’s got itself a damn titty window under some satin neck straps. Astarion’s pupils flare wide a second, and then he glares at you as if challenging you to comment.

You been together several times, in several way by now. He usually initiates (you did once). But you got a suspicion.

You step closer. Reach out slow and careful to crook your finger over the top of his trousers, since he tucks his shirt in and all. Then you pull, slow and steady, leave him plenty of time and distance to stop you or pull away.

But his pupils dilate again, and he steps into you. Lets you drag him flush against your front.

“Astarion,” you say. The man actually licks his lips. “Did you get horny and decide to be an asshole to everybody about it?”

A hint of a smile tugs his lips before he buries that under scorn. “Of course not.”

But you’re learning his tells. The way his gaze hovers over your face, darts down to the titty window and the hint of cleavage like a hummingbird. Also the less than subtle grind against you as he says it.

“Were you being a dick to get us alone?” you say.

A pause, this time. His voice wobbles a touch when he says, “No.”

You lean in. Catch the way his face tilts to meet you.

“I think you’re lying,” you say against his lips. “I think you want me alone, and I think you went all bratty so I’d feel ornery about it.”

His inhale stutters. A minute shiver runs through him. “And what would you do if you were, ahem, ‘ornery?’”

It’s mind boggling how much things’ve changed in the months since y’all met. Since the disastrous first days of…this. That you can be here now, with him, talking like this? It’s a minor miracle.

He’s so fully pressed into you you can feel his cock twitch even through the cotton trousers.

“Did you do all this so I’d fuck you?” you say. You cannot keep the smile off your face or outta your voice.

He finally cracks. Closes his eyes and runs his lips over yours. Drawls, “Maybe.”

“Is it the strap?” you say. He’d picked it out and purchased it in the city, and then the nice sex shop man showed you how to put it on and, well, implied how to use it. And clean it (that part was very explicit, detailed instructions.)

The tip of his tongue swipes your upper lip. His hands ghost up your sides.

“Would you?” he says.

He takes charge in the sheets. But he bought that dildo to use on him, and he seemed to enjoy it when you did (he whimpered as you fucked him).

You’re learning what you like in terms of dirty talk (it’s surprisingly graphic). He’s an excellent teacher. So you gird your loins, ignore the heat all the way down your neck, and open your mouth. “You want me to spread you wide on my cock and fuck you all better?”

He sucks in a gasp. “Gods, darling, yes.”

Then his lips crash into yours and you’re both stumbling towards y’all’s shared tent.

The rest on AO3 for very, very rated E reasons.

#feeding alligators fic #these two shitheads #you could just ask #surprise smut #astarion smut #astarion fic #tavstarion smut #man's getting pegged #and edged #Astarion doesn't know how to ask for things #this is everyone's problem #was gonna wait to post #had a Monday #said fuckit let's go #astarion #astarion x tav #astarion bg3

[yelenasvestenthusiast]

i don't want you like a best friend; kate bishop

summary: there are other things more entertaining than business parties. warning: swearing , slight jealousy , fluff , suggestive if you squint

"god, i'm so bored," you groan into kate's shoulder, holding your arm out a little to prevent your drink from spilling. the black-haired girl only laughs at your misery, taking a sip from her own glass.

"you were the one who came."

you huff and roll your eyes. "you were the one who begged me to come."

"i did not beg!" she protests.

"oh, please," you raise an eyebrow, "with the endless 'please please please' and puppy eyes?"

"well..."

her retort dies down in her throat, having no argument. she simply scoffs. you smirk in triumph, leaning into the nearest table and downing your drink in one gulp. "your mom is so bad at parties," you start. "like, where is the music? where are the dancers and the hot people?"

kate laughs again. "you expect that in a business party? this thing's hosted so that i can greet old men and talk about business and shit."

"no wonder i'm bored."

"you're lucky you're not the ceo's daughter," kate complains. "you don't get the 'oh, you're the little bishop girl!' and the 'you've grown up to be a gorgeous young lady!'. you just have to stand there and look pretty for me."

"i'm gonna ignore that last part." you snicker at the irritated look on her face.

"ah, kate bishop, am i right? eleanor's little girl?" a balding man says, approaching the two of you. kate plasters on a fake smile and you avert your eyes, taking interest in the brownies.

they talk for a bit, you eventually losing your interest in seeing kate shifting uncomfortably. you excuse yourself and head to the snack table, helping yourself to majority of the desserts - after all, you came for the free food.

you'd just taken a bite out of a cupcake when a voice comes from behind you. you spin around and come face to face with a man - your age, maybe, or a little older.

he's fairly attractive, you can't deny, with an almost angelic smile. sadly, nothing can compare to a certain bishop girl's smile-

your thoughts are interrupted when he glances at your lips. "um, you've got something there-" he extends a hand and wipes off the frosting from the corner of your mouth.

eyes widening, you grab a tissue and wipe your mouth. "oh, thank you! i didn't notice."

"i'm dante," he continues. "i saw you from across the room and.. well, i really couldn't guess who had brought you. also, i wanted to introduce myself, so.."

"nice to meet you, dante." he seems nice and polite, so you decide to entertain him. "i'm y/n."

"that's.. a really pretty name."

you and dante stay together and talk, laughing when he tells you a story about his childhood and groaning when you tell him about an accident you'd had as a kid. you realize that he's actually fun to talk to, and a great listener, and you don't notice the time passing by until a hand slithers around your waist.

a surprised squeak leaves your lips as you glance at the newcomer, sighing in relief when you see that it's kate. "hi," you breathe out.

she has yet another fake smile on her face - but unlike those from earlier that night. it's a little stiff, a little... colder. "hi," she replies through gritted teeth. "i see you've made a new friend."

"oh, yeah!" you beam at dante. "kate, this is dante. dante, kate."

"oh, kate bishop? finally, nice to-"

"a pleasure to meet you, dante, but may i talk to y/n? alone?"

dante blinks, looking genuinely confused. he glances at you and then at kate, at you and back to kate again. "yes, sure, of course. you look really good in that dress, by the way, y/n."

you watch him walk away before turning to kate. "oh, come on, he was really sweet."

"i bet he thought you were really sweet, too," she grumbles, scowling.

"what, jealous?" you tease, but you can't tear your eyes away from the way her jaw tenses.

"no."

"okay, well, i'm gonna find dante-"

before your sentence even finishes she grabs you by the wrist. "stay."

you smirk and cross your arms, raising an eyebrow. "what, scared you'll be the the single one between us?"

"please don't joke about that."

"why not?"

kate sighs. "look, i don't really like him, but..."

"yes?"

"he's right about one thing." she carefully scans your figure. "you look good in that dress."

in a sudden burst of confidence you lean closer to her. "only bought this dress so you could take it off."

her 'tough' exterior crumbles and she's reduced to a confused puppy expression. "w-what?"

you pull her closer by her tie, close enough that your breaths ghost over each others' faces. "i want you. but i don't want you like a best friend."

you pull away and stare at her face for a reaction. "so? ditch this party with me?"

kate's face lights up in a grin.

#kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #kate bishop x female reader #kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #oneshot #imagines #drabble #hailee steinfeld #marvel #mcu #hawkeye #dress #taylor swift

[eyesofshinigami]

A Day in the Life

Rating: G

CW: None

Tags: Established relationship, kidfic, tiny OC, married life, fluff

Prompt: For @shares-a-vest "Love is co-parenting"

WC: 618

Written for @steddielovemonth Day 15

The sun hasn’t even come up yet, when Eddie feels eyes on him. He groans, pretty sure he knows exactly what’s going on. He cracks an eye open and sighs when he sees a tiny face two inches from his nose. “Bug?” he grits out. A quick glance at the clock tells him it’s about three o’clock in the morning. “Y’okay?”

“Can’t sleep, daddy,” their daughter, Eleanor, shout-whispers. Eddie appreciates the effort but it doesn’t change the fact that he’s being woken up. 

He tries to get himself together enough to reply. “What do you mean? Bad dream?” He shuffles over and lifts the covers so that she can crawl inside. Thankfully, Steve is still sleeping, having had a late shift and he only crashed a couple of hours ago.

Eleanor climbs into bed and snuggles down in Eddie’s arms. Her warm little body curled up around Eddie makes him smile. “Yeah. Made me miss you and papa too much.” She gives him a little kiss on the chin. “Can I sleep here?”

Eddie tries not to sigh. As much as he loves baby snuggles with Eleanor, he finds it hard to sleep with her in the bed. He and Steve still have nightmares from their time in Hawkins, and the last thing he wants is to scare her when one of them wakes up screaming and flailing. Both of them would never forgive themselves if she got hurt because of it. “We can try, bug. We just can’t wake Papa up, okay? He worked late, remember?”

She nods and he can feel her breath puff against his chest as she yawns. “Pancakes tomorrow?” 

“Sure, bug.”

They manage to fall back asleep, even though Eddie feels more like he’s drifting on the edge of it the rest of the night. He feels like he has to peel his eyes open when Eleanor starts wiggling against him. “Bug?” 

“Time to wake up, daddy. You promised me pancakes?”

Damn it, half-awake Eddie sure did do that early in the morning. His head hurts a little and waking up feels like a monumental task, but he did promise. He goes to get up and climb out of bed, when he feels a hand on his shoulder. 

“I got it, baby. You go back to bed, okay?” he hears Steve say, right before his husband presses a kiss to his shoulder.

“Okay? You’re the one who worked late?” 

Steve chuckles, rolling Eddie over to kiss him on the mouth. Eleanor lets out a little shriek and an “ewww!” but they pretend not to hear her. Sorry that your parents love each other, kid. “Yeah, but you got up with Eleanor last night and I know how it is for you when she is in the bed. I’ll get up, make pancakes and keep her busy, then you can switch so I can take a nap later. Sound good?”

“Oh thank god, yes. I love you so much, Steve,” Eddie says, feeling his body sink back into the sheets. 

“Love you too, baby. Get some good sleep, okay?” Steve kisses him one more time before he climbs out of bed, swinging Eleanor up under his arm and making her giggle. “Tell your daddy to sleep well, Ms Rigby, and then we’ll go make those pancakes.”

In between giggles, she asks, “With chocolate chips? And that’s not my name! Silly Papa!” Steve nods, and from under his arm, she calls out sweetly, “Sleep good, daddy. We can play later, okay?”

“Okay, bug. Love you both,” he says, blowing them both kisses before he snuggles back down under the sheets. He falls asleep to the happy sounds coming from the kitchen, smiling the whole time. 

#steddie #steddielovemonth #les writes things #rating: g

[marvel-snape-writes]

Being of the Jealous Kind

Snape x original female character

18+ smutty smutty smut smut

7.5k+ words of grumpy Snape smut 😋✌️

Eleanor is in her first stint of training to teach at Hogwarts. Severus Snape had been the teacher she had been most curious about ever since she was his student. Since time had passed from their teacher/student days, they have caught each other's eyes on more than one occasion. The annual party was underway for all to attend, regardless of teacher, student, or status. Severus Snape attended the party, 25% because he felt it obligatory to do so being in his position, 75% because he wanted to see *her*. Jealousy overcomes him and he manages to get a message to her, inviting her to meet him in his chamber at Hogwarts... will either of them get their happy ending?

“You wanted to see me, Professor?” Her voice was slightly timid and her knock a little unsure, never having been summoned to his chamber before.

First there was silence for what felt like too long, but she exhaled quietly when she heard footsteps coming toward the door — half from relief and half from fear. Her heartbeat stalled as she heard the large metal lock unclasp from behind the door, almost as if he was purposely slowing down the process of opening it. His scent was the first thing to escape the room from around the crack in the door as it gradually opened; a dark musk like tobacco mixed with whisky, the knowing that he did not smoke and hardly drank only adding to the mystery of him. It was not too strong to overwhelm but strong enough to wrap you up and draw you in.

His shadow was the second thing to pass through the door; a dominant, broad figure, even a little unnerving, but from over the time of knowing him she could almost swear he carried himself like that on purpose. His eyes ran their way from the floor until they pierced hers, her breath hitching in her throat from the intimidating intimacy he always brought to that moment regardless of where you were or whose company you were in.

“Y-You wanted to—” She repeated shyly before swallowing hard as he cut her off;

“Yes,” He spoke simply, his voice lowering now, “I heard you the first time.”

She pressed her lips together and gazed down at her feet, the silence from before now even more deafening with his eyes upon her. He bit the inside of his lip and squinted his eyes briefly, exhaling through his nose before pushing the door open a little further as if he had made a subconscious decision in his head before doing so.

“Come.” He said softly, gesturing for her to step inside his chamber.

She followed him inside and swallowed hard when she heard the door shut behind them. Her eyes scanned the room as he now walked in front of her, stopping at his arm chair but not sitting down in it.

“It will never not feel odd to stand in front of you as a colleague instead of a student.” She half laughed, trying to create conversation into the stale environment.

“And, yet, you still know your place…” He spoke quietly, though loud enough for her to hear.

“I…” She paused for a moment, unsure whether to acknowledge what he said or not, “I’m sorry?” She dared herself to say.

“No matter.” He flashed her half a smile this time, “How was the party?”

“Well, you were there… and then you weren't.” She squinted her eyes, looking up at him.

“I am aware I was there, but that is not what I asked…” His eyes met hers, though his expression was more of a glare, “How. Was. The. Party?”

She pressed her lips together from the way he spoke to her and held her hands in front of her, playing with her fingers.

“It wasn’t bad, thank you…” She spoke quietly, only looking at him briefly, “Is that why you asked of me?”

“It may be related to the matter at hand.” His tone returned to normal, stepping further into the room.

“The matter at hand, Professor?” She squinted her eyes.

“Tell me, do you still feel the need to address me as ‘Professor‘ now that we are working alongside each other?” He arched a brow, though a smirk threatened his lips.

“It is your title, is it not?” She looked at him properly this time.

“Correct.” He nodded, gazing over at her for a brief moment before busying himself by dusting one of his book shelves, “Though, I would be a fool to say I don't find it somewhat… one of your more attractive natures, calling me that.”

“Professor?” She tried her best not to show how shocked his comment made her.

“Hm.” Was the only noise he muttered, his back now completely to her.

She watched him as he moved from one book shelf to the next while dusting along each surface, his cloak moving along with him each time and his hair flowing over the top of his collar. She stood there in silence just watching him, though this wasn’t the first time she had found herself in this position. Not in his chamber, but certainly out of it. She admired the way he carried himself; he was harsh when he needed to be and you often felt like you were walking on egg shells around him, but that was almost what attracted her more too him — his power and status. If he was so delightfully forceful when he wasn’t happy with you, the mind boggled at how he would be if he desired you. And that had been the first thought on her mind ever since he was her professor and she was his student.

She decided to play with him, taunt him.

“I was not expecting for Barnaby to ask me to dance with him…” She twirled a strand of hair around her finger, tilting her head slightly as she continued to watch him, “Though, I suppose I should've expected it since he did ask me to go with him.”

“Enough.” He spoke softly, his hand pausing with his index finger against the spine of one of his books but his back still facing her.

“He couldn’t really dance,” She giggled, pretending she hadn’t heard him as she continued to taunt, “I think I’ll go back to him now and see if he gets any better throughout the night.”

“I said enough!” His voice was more stern this time, spinning around smoothly and causing his cloak to rise into the air from the draft of air his sudden movement caused.

Her breath caught in her throat from his sudden outburst, lips parting when she saw the look upon his face. His jaw clenched the moment their eyes met and his hands were now held behind his back, exhaling quietly through his nose.

“Sorry, Professor…” She spoke shyly, her eyes still on him, “Shall I excuse myself?”

His eyes squinted, hands clenched behind him as his eyes burned into her before finally speaking softly, “No.”

“No, professor?” She scowled slightly, his intimidating shadow now looming over her as she stepped a little closer to him, “Professor?” She repeated into the silence.

“Stop… S-Stop…” He shook his head, turning around as he groaned out his words, “Stop calling me ‘Professor’.” His teeth gritted, trying to busy himself with dusting his bookshelves again.

“Does it make you uncomfortable?” She asked, watching as his cleaning became more erratic.

“It would appear, Miss, that in the time from entering my chamber to now, you have forgotten your place.” His voice remained monotone.

“My apologies…” She bit the inside of her cheek, daring herself to push him even further, “Professor.”

“Don't push it.” The rising anger was heard in his short tempered voice, enunciating each word perfectly.

“It surprises me that someone of your status or power doesn't prefer to be called by that title,” She stepped closer to him, “Or insist.”

“I’ll tell you what I insist…” He grumbled under his breath.

“Yes?” She held her breath slightly, awaiting a loud response from the Professor but pressing her lips together when he remained silent, only letting out small huffs as he dusted along his bookshelf, “Well, alright. I won't talk to your back any longer. Thank you for… whatever this was, but I must be getting back to Barnaby.”

The mixture of her words and her fading footsteps as she turned to walk away caused him to spin around even faster than before, knocking off a couple of books in the process. He raised his wand and fixed the lock on the door, preventing her from leaving.

“Prof…” She tried to say as she turned back around, eyes wide.

“I insist you listen,” He stepped closer to her, “You may leave my chamber when you wish, but please allow me to explain myself…”

She nodded but remained silent.

“Have you let it go unnoticed how we have so often appeared fond of one another? I must admit, as a colleague, you have caught my eye on more than one occasion…” He spoke whilst looking at his feet, his arms now behind his back again.

“I don't understand…” She tried to act like she hadn't found his intense presence wildly alluring even before they had made the teacher-to-student to colleague-to-colleague jump.

“Tell me, Miss Eleanor, do I strike you as the kind of person who would willingly attend an event such as this evening?” He asked, tilting his head as they closed the gap between them a little more, “I think the manor in which I have behaved since inviting you here has proved I am not a… social man.”

“Then why did you…” She gazed up at him with narrowed eyebrows, holding her hands nervously in front of her.

“I came for you…” His tone had never sounded so sincere than it had in that moment, hesitantly raising his hands in want of holding her face within them.

“But… you didn't even talk to me.” She pouted her lips, keeping her eyes on his.

“I’m sorry, I…” He paused, lips still parted as he now cupped her face in his hands, “I saw you and words… failed me.”

“Professor Snape, you…” She spoke quietly, placing her hands against his biceps.

“Stop… calling… me…” He inhaled sharply, their faces now closer, “Please call me ’Severus’.”

“Is this you ‘insisting’, hm?” She bit her lip and giggled, squeezing his biceps in her hands as she leaned up on her tiptoes.

“I have grown so tired of admiring from afar…” Were the final words to leave his lips before they were met with Eleanor’s.

Eleanor’s entire body froze. This was something she had thought about, daydreamed about even, at the back of his class for almost as long as she could remember. She could sense the hesitance in the way he exhaled after the kiss, almost as if he had just remembered that once upon a time they were student and teacher. Eleanor grasped onto the opening of his cloak, breathing shakily against his lips. She dared to lean up and brush their lips together faintly again, letting him know that she was okay, this was okay. A shiver ran through her when she heard the soft whimper escape the Professor’s lips. His large hands brought her even closer to him, their heads tilting now and becoming more comfortable in the kiss as it grew deeper.

They stumbled about the room as their lips parted, hands back and forth from being in one another’s hair and then to their clothes. Grunts left their mouthes, then a giggle from Eleanor as the Professor lightly bumped her up against one of his book shelves.

“S—Sorry…” The apology hardly even became vocal from the intensity of their kisses.

“Shh, let’s go over here.” Eleanor whispered, leading him with his cloak in her fists over to his large armchair but not breaking the kiss.

The Professor felt the hot flush rising through his body as he willingly followed, his hands settling against her hips once the backs of his legs touched the armchair. Eleanor reached up with both hands to place them upon his shoulders, gesturing for him to sit down in it. He did, lips parting as the kiss broke.

“Sit, Professor…” She bit her lip, standing between his parted legs.

“I am not going to ask you again…” He inhaled sharply as she leaned over him, “Stop. Calling. Me. ‘Professor’.”

“Why, hm?” She felt a flicker of cockiness, gazing down into his eyes, “Does it turn you on when people address you as ‘Professor’?”

“Do not be absurd, I work with children who call me that on a daily basis.” He glared up at her, palms against his knees.

The look he gave her made her want to give herself over to him in that instant, the look he would give when he was most displeased with someone’s behaviour. The look that drove her wild regardless of the setting; him being her teacher as a student or him being her teacher learning the ropes as a colleague. It was an expression that had always sent her head spiralling into different ways that she would allow him to take out whatever he was feeling upon her. It always amazed her how quickly he could switch.

“Then, what is it?” She asked, now standing with her hands on her hips.

“It’s the way you say it… the way your lips form the words, the tone of your voice…” He exhaled quietly, biting his lip for a moment before gazing up at her, hardly able to believe he was admitting it, “Frankly, my dear, it makes me weak. Vulnerable, almost. The way you insist on addressing me like so… even though we are now to work alongside each other.”

“But other colleagues call you it, don't they?” She squinted her eyes.

“You are missing the point…” He shook his head, the glare still upon his face.

“Hm?” She tilted her head, trying her best not to smirk.

“It’s you.” He spoke simply, “Come down here.”

“Why?” She tried to push it as far as possible.

“Because your Professor told you to.” His voice was even lower than usual, not quite a command but gravelly enough to turn her legs to jelly.

Eleanor immediately fell into his lap, placing her hands against his shoulders as she felt his arms wrap around her. Their lips smacked together and Eleanor’s fingers found themselves in his hair, tugging at it slightly with several grunts from his lips that followed.

“Eleanor, wait…” He breathed against her lips, unwillingly pulling back.

“Professor Snape, I never had you down as such a tease…” She scoffed playfully when she felt him pull back, her hands still in his hair, “Though, I guess with the power you hold within your position here at Hogwarts you are used to getting your own way as and when you please.”

He paused, swallowing hard as he gazed up at her. He didn't know how much longer he could hold down the fiery desire within him, but something was still holding him back. The position he found himself in, in that moment was what he could've only dreamed of since seeing her at the party, but he was unsure if she, too, felt the same. Little did he know, Eleanor had been having thoughts such as these for a while now, but how would she have ever plucked up the courage to approach one of the most powerful men in the business?

“I am indeed well aware of the power that my position holds and the upper hand that I have over many,” He narrowed his eyebrows, sincerity in his eyes and her cheek cupped in one of his large palms, his thumb faintly skimming over her bottom lip as he spoke, “But I will not allow that to take advantage of something so delicate… without willing reciprocation.”

“Then, you shall have it.” There was barely room for a breath in between his words and her response, her hands now darting to unfasten the cravat around his collar.

Very few breaths were taken between the desperate kisses, Snape’s hands now finding themselves at the zip at the back of her dress. Eleanor nudged herself forward slightly against his lap when she heard the soft groan escape from his lips and smirked when his groan grew louder from her movement. Skilfully, she rid him of the cravat completely and began to unbutton his collar, letting out a shaky breath against his lips when she felt how much his hands were shaking against the fastening of her dress and compared it to how swiftly he locked the door to his chamber, wondering why he didn't resort to the same device to rid her of her dress.

“I would give up spells, potions and power forever for just one chance to tear your clothes off with my bare hands.” He wheezed against her lips, tugging at the zip.

“Do as you please, Professor…” Eleanor whispered, trailing one of her hands down the front of his body.

She mirrored the speed in which he unzipped her dress with the speed she moved her hand down his body, reaching the front of his pants at the same time as he had pulled the zip all the way down. She edged her hand closer to grasping the now evident bulge in the crotch of his pants before teasingly raising both arms above her head to allow him to pull the dress from her body completely. Once the dress was rid of her completely and tossed carelessly to the floor, the Professor’s hands found her breasts, massaging them gently as Eleanor’s hand fell back to his crotch, palming at it slowly. Her free hand placed against his cheek, their tongues tangling briefly before Snape’s breathing was unsteady and he trapped her bottom lip between his teeth, pulling it out as he felt her fingertips now working their way along his clothed erection.

“Are you sure you're doing all of this without magic?” She teased against his lips, “Surely a man of your age is biologically incapable of getting aroused so quickly.”

“Watch your fucking mouth.” He snapped in a quick whisper, earning a sudden moan from her as a result of squeezing her breasts harder as if in some form of punishment.

“Or what?” She found the head of his cock through the material of his pants, pressing her thumb against it.

“You don't even want to know…” He hissed through clenched teeth, the sensitivity of his length sending bolts throughout his body as Eleanor applied more pressure with her thumb.

“Oh, but, I think I do… Sir.” She gazed down at him with a devilish grin, gasping with a soft giggle when she felt his cock twitch against her fingers from the way she addressed him.

Snape lifted his hand to draw her back down into a harsh kiss, tongues immediately touching as she began to grind over his crotch. His moans passed through her lips, feeling himself straining against the material even more than before. Her hands shuffled along to the opening of his pants and began her attempt at tugging them open, gasping when she felt her bra coming apart from the back.

“Mm, what happened to ‘no magic’?” She smirked against his lips, pulling her bra off completely and dropping it to the floor before focusing her hands back on the button of his pants.

“You are causing me to run out of patience…” He spoke uneasily, parting his legs a little further as she managed to unbutton his pants, now fumbling with the zip.

“Sorry, Professor, let me…” She pushed his crotch open fully and reached into the front of his underwear, “Speed things up a little.”

The Professor felt his breath hitch in his throat when he felt Eleanor’s hand wrap around his warm, hardened length. Their kisses became more clumsy, leaving him hardly even able to concentrate as she began to pump her hand up and down his now impatiently pulsing cock, releasing it from his clothes completely to allow her wrist more ease of movement.

“Mmmh…” He whimpered against her lips, his eyes rolling back from the contact of her hand alone.

“Is that nice, Professor?” She whispered seductively, kissing him back just as roughly as she received.

“Don't speak.” He responded bluntly, claiming her lips urgently as precum began to pool at the tip of his cock already.

Eleanor was a little taken back by his response, but little did she know the touch starved reason behind it; her words and actions combined could easily become too much too soon for the aging, deprived Professor. He had to ease himself into it.

Eleanor’s lips parted into the kiss when she felt the sticky string of precum slide down the shaft of his length and onto her fingers, helping with the ease of her jerking motions which in turn sped up. She felt him fidget beneath her and thrust his hips up into her hand a little in order to stress his need. Her thumb brushed under the head of his cock faintly each time her hand slid up to the top, making his breathing change drastically each time. He was barely even kissing her at this point, just eyes tightly shut as her hand blissfully slid up and down his length.

“O—Off, off…” He repeated the word as if in an uneasy stutter, his hands now grasping at the material of her underwear against her hips.

“Anything you want…” She smirked, ridding herself of her underwear completely and placing her hands against his shoulders. Snape narrowed his eyebrows from the new lack of contact against his cock, longing for her to be all over him again.

“Listen to me…” Snape breathed out heavily, swallowing hard as he gazed up into her heavy eyes, “I fucking need this. Do not disappoint me.”

Eleanor felt her heart flutter from his words alone, trying to remember the amount of times she had pictured this exact scene in her mind. Quickly, she snapped herself out of it.

“If you would like to guide me into how not to disappoint you, Professor, be my guest.” She lifted her hips, hovering over him.

She allowed her gaze to fall down to his aching, unattended length — proudly creating a shadow over his lower stomach as it longed for more attention. Her lips parted and her grip on his shoulders tightened, reaching down with one hand to line him up with her perfectly. She leaned in to kiss him again as her hips desperately tried to sit over him at the same time as their lips touching. That was, however, until she found his large hands clamped against her hips and therefore preventing her from moving whatsoever.

“What do you think you are doing?” He asked, glaring at her once more as he tried to calm his breathing.

“I— I’m sorry, I…” She swallowed hard, both hands now trembling against his shoulders, “I thought that was… w-was what you wanted.”

“I said listen to me,” He spoke lowly, now enjoying taunting her despite the built up arousal he held himself, “You need to make your decent slowly.”

Eleanor lost her breath from his words and kept her eyes on his with parted lips as she followed his instructions, slowly lowering herself over him completely and watching as his jaw clenched from each movement.

“L—Like that?” She asked shyly before biting her lip as he filled her completely.

Snape nodded once before speaking, “Don't move yet.”

Eleanor’s eyes squinted, hands continuing to tremble against his shoulders as he leaned forward to reach behind him, pulling his cloak off from behind him. Carefully, he wrapped it around Eleanor’s shoulders and gazed up at her with desire filled eyes, his hands now back on her hips.

“What an honour…” She whispered, glancing at either side of her to look at the cloak now upon her.

Snape reached up to bring her into a kiss again, sinking down into his large arm chair as she began to move over him with the return of each kiss. One of Snape’s hands slid up her back from under the cloak and his kisses became more harsh, grunting each time her hips landed down on his.

“Fuck.” He breathed out shakily, his fingers trembling as they dragged down her back.

Eleanor felt herself go dizzy already from the way that word passed through his lips — more of a breathless moan than speech. She broke the kiss and her head fell forward, nuzzled in the crook of his neck from the dip in his high collar since the buttons had been undone. The aroma of his skin so close to her filled her senses; almost like old leather with a very brief hint of lavender, but only like he had dabbed it on in a half-hearted attempt to cover up his somewhat curious appearance. His clothes, however, smelled like damp paper, books, to be more specific, as if he bathed in them.

“Come back…” His words trailed off when he felt her lips upon his neck, “C—Come back up…” His head tilted to the side, lips parted as she suckled upon a certain patch of his neck, “Back up… Back up here…”

Eleanor smirked against his skin, moving against him in harder motions as his hands clamped her hips again. Guiding her back and forth and willingly showing his desperation turned her on more than she could have even imagined.

“I think I could become quite accustomed to your cock, Professor…” She spoke directly into his ear before pressing a quick kiss to it, “I think it will take several visits to get to know every inch of it, anyway…” Her tongue traced down the side of his neck and then back up to his ear again, “Because its so… fucking… big…”

“Agh!” His voice curdled in his throat, not used to such praise, especially not whilst he had someone using his cock as a pogo stick. Her hands found themselves in his hair again, tugging at it gently as her lips latched onto the crook of his neck and feeling his length pulse with each movement. Snape’s sweaty hands slipped from her hips and his grunts and groans grew in frequency as the fire in the pit of his stomach began to increase.

Eleanor’s movements became slightly more clumsy as the familiar warmth in her stomach, too, increased, panting into his ear. Snape’s heavy eyes opened when he felt a draft, losing himself in the moment even more when he saw it was coming from the cloak — his cloak — still snug around her shoulders and wafting into the air each time she bounced over him. He could feel himself easily able to give in to her in this very moment, and so could she, but that wasn't the way he wanted this to end.

“Stop being such a brat, and listen to me…” He attempted at using his snappy tone, though it fell through as the jolts of ecstasy refused to stop shooting through him, “C—Come back here.”

She paused briefly, blowing cool air against the red patch of skin on his neck and grinning to herself when she felt him shiver as a response before lifting her head to gaze down at his flushed face, arching a brow, “Yes, Professor?”

Snape swallowed hard when their eyes met, opening his mouth to speak but instead placing one of his hands on the back of her head and pulling her down into a bruising kiss.

“Mmh, fuck…” Her hands were on his shoulders again, squeezing them tightly as their kisses grew more and more rough with each motion over his throbbing arousal, “Professor, you…”

“N—No, no…” He shook his head uneasily, though keeping their faces close, “Don't you dare make either of us cum.”

Eleanor’s lips parted from his words, shocked from what appeared to be a sudden change of heart. Confusion hit her when his hands were upon her hips again, relentlessly guiding him up and down his length. Her thighs trembled and their lips smacked back together, whimpering as her orgasm began to climb her body.

“S…Stop letting me ride your unsurprisingly large cock, then…” She gasped against his lips, moaning each time she sat all the way over him.

Snape’s fingertips turned white from how hard he was holding onto her, fighting back the urge of giving in himself, too. He grunted each time his cock twitched madly inside her, wanting so desperately to chase his own climax, but wanting something else even more; to make it clear who really was in charge. It was one thing saying she made him weak, but he certainly could not show it.

‘Pull yourself together,’ He thought to himself, ‘For crying out loud, do not embarrass yourself, Severus.’

“O—Oh, fucking…” He began to gasp uncontrollably, his heartbeat rapidly increasing as he pushed himself as far as he could go before uneasily raising his voice, “A—Alright, alright… Enough!” He commanded for her to stop, even as much as it pained him.

“U—Ugh…” Eleanor whimpered, her heavy eyes half open as they stared down at him, “Th-That was so cruel… I thought this was what you wanted. What you ‘fucking need’.” She attempted to impersonate him from before, mid trying to catch her breath.

“Do not use my own words against me.” He inhaled deeply, glaring up at her and placing his hands on her thighs.

“Then, do not use your cock against me…” She narrowed her eyes, glancing down at his hands, “I’m pretty sure if you so much as sneezed right now, I would—!”

“Quit your whining,” He butted in immediately, afraid of the effect her words would have on her, “Stand up.”

“B—But, my…” Eleanor narrowed her eyebrows, pouting her lips as she struggled to even think about moving her legs, “I’m not sure that I can…”

“Stand. Up.” His tone was more stern this time, able to calm himself briefly by forcing himself to concentrate on his breathing instead of what was crying for release between his legs.

Eleanor swallowed hard and placed her hands against his shoulders, trying to steady herself as much as possible as she lifted herself up off him. The feeling of his length leaving her completely, and the feeling of her no longer sat over him at what was just before their orgasms made them both shudder as their contact completely broke — though she did have to grasp onto the arm of the chair in order to keep herself upright.

“In front of me.” He snapped his finger and thumb, pointing to the space in front of him.

He had to practically put his tongue back into his mouth when she stood before him; cheeks flushed, thighs red, fingerprints — his fingerprints — upon her skin. His eyes took a walk up to her chest, mesmerised for a few moments as her breasts were rising and falling with each shaky breath she took. All of this right in front of him whilst wearing nothing but his cloak still. He knew this would be an image he was going to get off on for a long time… the fact being that it was taking everything in him not to take himself into his hand right now.

“L—Like this?” She asked, gazing down at him. He remained silent, but the image she was met with could've made her forget her own name; the once arrogant, stubborn Professor now slouched in his large armchair with his legs spread, lips parted, breathing heavy and uneasy as his unattended, reddened erection stood proudly through the opening of his pants. He was completely at her mercy in this moment, and she was at his. She bit her lip as her weakened legs threatened to give way before repeating herself, “Like this, Professor?”

Hearing her address him like that again gave the Professor the energy he needed to push himself out of his armchair and catapult himself toward her, gladly met with her arms snaking around his neck again. She leaned up on her tiptoes to press a harsh kiss to his lips, grateful for the support as she leaned against him.

“Wh-Why did you make us stop?” She whimpered against his lips, grasping onto him slightly tighter as he began to walk them — or more like stumble — through his chamber, “Mmm… are you taking me to your bed, Professor?”

“Absolutely not,” He responded instantly in between rough kisses, “Do not be foolish and think you have earned a place in my bed by your actions tonight.”

“I…” She was far too turned on from his scolding reply to form a response for a few long moments as he walked her further into his chamber, “Professor, my legs may just give way if you don't give me a surface soon…” She giggled against his lips before pressing a slightly harder kiss to his lips when she felt her back touch one of the stoney alcove walls, “W-Wait… This isn't your bed… How am I supposed to ride your desperate cock from this angle, hm?” She smirked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck.

“I don't care if your legs are shaking. Fuck, I do not care if you cannot feel your thighs or if your body is trembling…” His voice was like sandpaper against her lips, making her audibly gasp when she felt his hardened length now pressing against her lower stomach as he growled lowly in a gruff tone, “If you are going to act like a slut, Miss Eleanor, I am going to treat you like a slut.”

“Ooh…” Eleanor inhaled shakily, feeling herself being pinned against the wall by his hips, “And are you going to fuck me like a slut, Professor?”

Snape didn't respond verbally, his lips were too focused on being against hers again. She attempted to reach for him again but found her wrists being pinned against the wall by his large hands. She pushed her head forward and took hold of his bottom lip between her teeth, tugging at it slightly as she felt herself being pinned with more force this time. Snape winced slightly as he ragged his lip out from between her teeth, grasping one of her thighs now and raising it to his hip as she hooked it around his waist.

“Are you going to behave for me?” He asked, his tone soft now as he rocked his hips forward.

“Y—Yes…” She whimpered, trying to kiss him again but instead being met with his finger against her lips.

“Yes, what?” His voice remained in the same tone, though slightly quieter this time as his lips came closer to hers.

“Yes, Sir…” She felt her body shiver as he reached down to take his length in his hand and slot it between her legs, though staying still.

“Try… Again…” She could feel his hot breath against his lips this time, once again trying to lean forward to kiss him but groaning in frustration as she kissed only the air when he moved his face back.

“Yes, Professor…” She felt her breath hitch in her throat as he nudged his hips upward, making the tip of his cock press against her.

“That’s right, sweetheart…” He looked down at her with a wicked grin, raising himself a little higher and pushing the head of his length inside her just to taunt her before lowering his hips once more.

“F—Fucking tease…” She whimpered, trying to move her hips in an attempt to create any type of feeling at all, “Stop teasing…”

“Or… what?” Snape smirked, kissing the corner of her lips as he moved his hips again, bouncing the tip of his cock between her legs each time and loving the way she squirmed in response.

“P-Professor!” She cried out in frustration, grasping onto his hair each time she felt the brief contact.

“Yes?” He used his free hand to brush her hair out of her face and watching her closely as he continued to taunt her, “What are you going to do, hm?”

“Beg,” She answered immediately, desperate to kiss him and even more desperate for what she could feel pulsating beneath her, “I am not above begging, Professor,” She inhaled shakily, placing her hands against his neck, “I will beg.”

Snape had all intentions of kissing her and giving her exactly what she wanted — what they both wanted — and leaned in with his lips almost touching hers until he heard her words. Words that set arousal alight like a wildfire throughout his whole body. Abruptly, he stopped himself and pulled back, arching a brow as his tone lowered, though speaking simply, “Then, beg.”

He felt her breathing change against his lips from their faces still being so close, brushing his hardened length between her legs several times. Eleanor snaked her arms around his neck again and grasped onto his hair with trembling fingers, trying to pull him as close to her as possible.

“Se…” It came out inaudible the first time. She tried again, “Sev…” She narrowed her eyebrows, feeling him still taunting her as the grip on her thigh became slightly more firm, “Severus*, please.*”

“Wh…What did you…” Snape swallowed hard, “What did you just call me?”

“Severus.” She repeated, though this time in a more seductive tone.

“Mmmh…” Severus quivered against her lips, awarding her with a kiss each time she repeated his name.

“Severus, Severus, Severus…” She groaned in desperation as she brushed back and forth over the tip of his cock still teasing between her legs and lips parting as she tilted her head, “Fuck me, Severus.”

Hearing her calling him by his name rather than his title made the moment grow somewhat more intimate between the two of them. He couldn't explain it. It was as if they had now crossed the bridge into allowing themselves to get to know one another properly.

Severus pulled her leg up a little higher around his waist and thrust his hips upward in one swift motion, whimpering in pleasure against her lips. Eleanor inhaled sharply from the feeling of him finally filling her again, though this time there was no pause before he started to move his hips at an ungodly pace - his pants pooling around his ankles in the process.

“Mm, fuck, no one is to have you like this other than me. Do you hear me?” He grunted against her lips, bruising them once more as he kissed her before she even had a chance to respond.

“That’s awfully possessive, don't you think, Professor?” She smirked against his lips before letting out a louder moan when he thrust her against the wall in a slightly harder motion.

“I am merely stating my… preference.” Severus paused to let out a moan even louder than Eleanor’s, squeezing his eyes shut in pleasure.

“Sounds more like a command to me…” She grinned, gasping against his lips as his speed increased.

“Take it how you wish.” He responded, reaching for her other thigh and pulling it up to join the other at the opposite hip, “Fucking. Take. It. All.”

“S—Severus!” She cried out in pleasure, squeezing her legs around him and digging her heels into his bottom to urge him not to stop, “Ugh, fuck!”

Severus gripped onto her thighs securely, the force of his thrusts now making their kisses become more clumsy. Eleanor’s fingers tangled themselves deeper into his hair, moaning his name each time she thudded against the cold stone. Their teeth clashed together several times as a result of him now moving his hips at a merciless pace. Despite how deep Eleanor had her hands in his hair, it didn't stop it swishing back and forth as a result of his relentless hips.

Deep down, they both knew it wouldn't take them long to get to the same point they were upon his arm chair. Their pulses raised, breathing changed, thrusts becoming even more desperate — if that were even possible.

“Tell me why you came here instead of Barnaby.” Severus pulled his head back briefly to speak, sweat now gathered upon his forehead and top lip from his unsparing movements.

“Because you told me to, Professor.” She responded, her lips remaining parted in delight from each time he moved.

“No, truthfully,” He gritted his teeth, “You could have stayed with him. Gone with him. Gone to bed with him.”

“You really want to know, Severus?” She whispered lowly against his lips, now rocking against him in time with his thrusts.

“Do you think it's easy, being of the jealous kind?” He growled lowly against her lips, bucking his hips.

“Mm…” She lost her breath from his low-key admittance of wanting her all to himself, “Yes, I could have stayed with Barnaby, gone with Barnaby, but…” She clung onto him, feeling her climax near approaching as she spoke again, “Maybe I was far too occupied already being yours.”

“M-Mmh, fuck!” Severus exclaimed in pleasure, those words being the only thing needed to push him over the edge, “Ugh, shit… Eleanor, f-forgive me!” He gasped, releasing his taunted orgasm with each harsh pulse of his cock.

“Sev… Severus!” She clung onto him even tighter, losing herself to her own climax only seconds later as he continued to drive his hips forward.

Their kiss broke, but only to allow for more exclamations of profanities to be shouted into the chamber, each one bouncing against the walls and becoming shattering echoes around them. Both of them chased their pleasure for as long as possible, clinging onto one another for dear life as their bodies trembled in ecstasy.

Eleanor was the first to mentally come back into the room, laying her hands against his shoulders as she tried to catch her breath. Severus slowly opened his eyes and carefully lowered her feet back down onto the floor, pushing his hair back with his hands. For a few moments, they stared at one another with flushed cheeks, almost as if in disbelief as to what had just happened.

“Prof…” She began, biting her lip as she glanced down at his softening length.

“Get dressed.” Severus spoke bluntly, quickly reaching for his pants and fastening them back up.

“What, you toss my clothes about your chamber and now I have to collect them and put them back on?” She scoffed playfully, placing her hand upon his chest.

He immediately took hold of her wrist, removing her hand as he spoke in a more assertive tone, “Get. Dressed.”

Eleanor was taken aback by his abruptness for a few moments, looking up at him and rolling her eyes when she was met with his glare. She did as he asked, placing his cloak over the back of his armchair and turning back to him once she was fully dressed. She swallowed hard, unsure of whether to speak.

“So… what now, cuddle?” She arched a brow, only half joking.

“I think you ought to return to your own bed.” Severus exhaled quietly.

“Interesting thing to say when you never actually showed me to yours.” She looked up at him, hands on her hips.

“Out.” He gestured toward the door, raising his wand to unlock it.

“How romantic.” She spoke sarcastically, walking toward the door.

“I gave you my cloak so your back wouldn't get cold against the stone.” Severus shrugged and followed her toward the door.

She stopped once she got to the door and smirked, placing a hand on his open collar and biting her lip when she saw the dark red circles upon his neck, “Is this why you wear such high collars, hm?”

“Out.” He glared, swatting her hand away.

“Hang on, are we seriously going to—” She squinted her eyes as he opened the door for her.

“Look,” He glanced down the hall to make sure there was no one there before closing the door again but keeping his hand on the handle as he glanced down at her, “You got what you wanted, I got what I wanted, and now we move on.”

“Move on?” She squinted her eyes, “Wait, did you just admit that, that was what you wanted?”

“Goodnight, Eleanor.” He cleared his throat, opening the door again.

“Sev—?” She tried to ask him again before he cut her off.

“Goodnight.” He swallowed hard, gesturing for her to leave.

“Well, the ‘S’ in ‘Severus’ or ‘Snape’ certainly doesn't stand for ‘smooth talker’.” She muttered to herself as she left his chamber, flattening her dress with her hand as she made her way down the corridor.

Severus quickly shut the door behind him as if it would also shut out the events that had just taken place. It didn't work. Even the aroma of the room smelled of sex; sweat, desire, sweet relief, and partial regret. As quick as the door was shut, he found himself reaching for the handle again. This time, he only opened it slightly, enough for him to just peer down the corridor and watch as she walked down it. Away from him. He wished he could immediately take back the coldness he had shown her after their alcove-stone-knee-trembler. He cursed himself for how well and ashamedly comfortably he could disguise his pure intentions and feelings. He felt regret and guilt for how she must have felt upon leaving his chamber, and as fast as the door was reopened, he was closing it again. He leaned back against the closed door and exhaled loudly through his nose, his back sliding down it until his knees bent up against his chest with his head in his hands, speaking into them;

“Oh, fuck.” He took in a deep breath, “Severus, what have you done?”

-

Thank you so much for reading! This is the first Harry Potter or Snape inspired thing I have ever written, so I won't lie, I was terrified to post this... Please let me know what you think or feel free to send me an ask/request/DM if there's any other plot you'd like me to write and I promise I will try not to read it through my fingers 🤣♥️

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[1d1195]

Traditional III

I think this is a little bit of a slow start for this series, and I apologize for that, I'm still kinda setting up some background pieces. I got a few big plans ahead here. I hope you like it. You can find the first two parts here: Traditional

Warnings: slight 18+ topics mentioned (like you have to squint to see them)

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke.

"I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him.

"M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

Harry was quietly but almost assuredly in love. There were hundreds of reasons not to be. First and foremost, she was his intern. Maybe not his directly...but at his company, nonetheless. There were so many issues with falling in love with someone that was subordinate to him. But here he was. The second reason was of course that he wasn’t supposed to fall in love with someone he was paying money to for the arrangement agreed upon.

But how could he not? She was the most adorable thing he had ever laid eyes on. She was so kind and intelligent. The way her nerves seemed to amplify while she was at dinner with him versus the confidence she exuded when she shook his hand was unbelievably cute. He thought of all the things to be nervous about, it would be working at his company. But apparently, spending the evening with someone who already wanted to be in her presence was the kind of thing to get someone so cutely riled up.

The second he heard her voice say Styles Incorporated he was done for. He wanted it to be her last name—he didn’t care about how ridiculous the sentiment was. Hearing her say his last name sounded so perfect in her voice he practically melted. The moment he saw her in person was like trying to balance himself on a tightrope. He wanted to wrap his arms around her and never let her go. But he was the boss of the company she was interning for, so he had to pretend he was just meeting her. Like he didn’t just scour her interest profile and all social media looking at her cute little being.

Hey beautiful. What are you up to today? Do you want to come over? I make really good Ramen.

Oh, I’d really like that! She answered almost instantly. Harry smiled excitedly at the prospect of seeing the sweet girl in a few minutes. But...I’m building my furniture with Louis and Eleanor :(

Harry frowned. He didn’t want her to build her cheap furniture. He didn’t want her buying cheap furniture. But he wasn’t going to make her return everything she already bought...and he wasn’t going to make her skip out on her friends...as much as he wanted her to. Oh. Don’t you mean you and Eleanor? He remembered what she said good naturedly about her best friend.

No literally, lol. Yes. Me and Eleanor, you’re right. She sent a laughing emoji and Harry wished he could hear her laugh out loud. He loved her light little giggle that he got to enjoy at dinner the other night. He didn’t get to see her today at work, but he wished he did. It was why he was asking her if she wanted to come over now.

While he was reminiscing about her, he missed the three little dots signaling her second reply. We were going to order pizza...if you like pineapple on your pizza you CAN’T come over but if you like GOOD pizza, then you can come and entertain Eleanor and I if you’d like.

He thought her humor was easily one of his favorite qualities about her. Have you tried it love? It’s not that bad.

Here I was, starting to like you...I’m not ordering it.

He chuckled at her response. I won’t make you...I’ll be there in fifteen?

I’ll see you then :)

Harry wasn’t really one to worry about what to wear, but suddenly he had no idea. What do you wear to help your employee, but also love interest, but also companion that he found off the internet to help build cheap furniture? He decided on a pair of dark jeans, a T-shirt, and some trainers he had lying by the door of his home. It occurred to him he was meeting her best friends and he thought that maybe he should have put in a bit more effort. It was only their second time together outside of work. Nonetheless, he was very excited and really looking forward to seeing her in her element.

*

“Louis,” she begged.

“I just want to ask him how many millions he’s worth. I don’t know why that’s an issue.”

She looked at Eleanor pleadingly. “Lou,” she said gently and then smiled kindly.

“Oh alright,” he rolled his eyes. “I’ll behave. But I won’t like it.”

At that moment, her phone signaled she had a visitor waiting in the lobby. She didn’t know if it would be pizza or Harry, so she headed down with her wallet just in case.

As she descended the staircase the one floor, she seemed to have an epiphany that she was wearing a pair of leggings and a t-shirt she would typically wear to the spin class she went to once a year with Eleanor. She realized she was entirely underdressed to see someone as beautiful as Harry. More so someone that she was employed by—in more than one way. She doesn’t know what possessed her to invite Harry over to meet her friends and build furniture. But she did know. She knew because she already liked him so much.

“Wow, thanks, mate,” the man was stuffing the money into his pocket as Harry held the three pizza boxes in his hands. She imagined Harry must have given him a substantial tip. In her head, Harry probably didn’t walk around with any bill smaller than a fifty.

“Oh, Harry. You didn’t have to do that,” she said quickly hurrying over to the pizza guy and Harry. The delivery guy was someone that she had run into several times over the last few years since she loved this pizza place.

“Oh, hey lady,” he smirked at her. “Your boyfriend said he would pay. Figured it wasn’t an issue,” he shrugged. Her cheeks pinked at the word boyfriend directed at Harry and she bit her lip waiting for Harry to answer instead. She waved gently to the man exiting with the large tip and he winked at her over his shoulder. He gave her a thumbs up and she swore she could see him mouth the word upgrade.

“Not a problem, love,” he responded with an easy smile. “Just happened here at the same time.”

With pizza in hand, she awkwardly made her way back to the stairwell trying to calm her nerves. Especially since Louis never had a filter. Harry was professional and lovely. He paid her in more than one way, and he was about to meet her crazy best friends. She worried she was about to lose both sources of income in a matter of minutes. “Y’okay, kitten?” He asked quietly as she approached her door.

“Mhmm...” she hummed. “Nervous.”

He chuckled. “Don’t be,” he said it easily. “M’excited t’meet your friends.” Swallowing, she nodded and pushed the door open.

“How much do we owe you?” Louis called from the living room.

“Um...Harry paid, so you’d have to ask him,” she still sounded nervous as she kicked her flipflops off at the door and made her way through the little entry way.

“S’all set,” Harry said easily. Obviously. It was pizza, and he didn’t mind in the slightest paying for the four of them. He set the pizzas on the counter in the kitchen and turned to her friends spread about empty cardboard boxes and plastic bags. Her couch was pushed against the wall facing the TV and the new stand it sat upon. She had music playing softly in the background that echoed through the room from the TV. Eleanor was focused on the directions in front of her while Louis twirled the little wrench in his hand.

“Thanks, Harry,” Louis said and stood to hold his hand out. “Nice t’meet you. Heard a lot about you,” he smirked.

“Hi Harry,” Eleanor chirped leaving the directions to flutter back to the floor and gave him a hug. “Thanks for coming to help. Louis gets us distracted a lot.”

“Entertained,” he corrected. Harry chuckled.

“Looks like you’ve made a lot of progress,” he noted that the coffee table was also completed in addition to the TV stand.

“Miss Impatient over there couldn’t wait,” Louis said. “El and I are on dresser duty.”

“Shh,” she hushed as she was still putting out paper plates and getting some napkins to put beside the pizza. “The coffee table and TV stand were like three parts total.”

Harry chuckled. “Didn’t take you as impatient, love,” he said softly in her direction.

She ignored his comment. “Can I get you a drink?” She asked as if the conversation around her wasn’t happening.

“Oh, she hides it very well,” Louis told Harry.

“She’s not impatient Louis,” Eleanor rolled her eyes. “She’s independent.”

“Terrible really,” Louis murmured causing Harry to chuckle.

“Water is fine, kitten,” he finally responded as if he wasn’t causing the racing of her heart just by being there.

*

Louis and Eleanor left after two bookshelves, the dresser, and the night table were put together. Louis claimed exhaustion because he was old despite Eleanor and her doing most of the heavy lifting. After a grateful goodbye, she ushered them out the door, Eleanor whispering to call her later in her ear.

In her eyes, it was really starting to look and feel like home. Harry was extremely helpful and wasn’t irritated at all by the lifting or the tedious labor of putting together cheap furniture. Harry was in fact pushing the bookshelves into position. “Y’should really anchor this down,” he told her.

“Er...I don’t want to mess up the walls. They charge you a fortune for that when you move out,” she explained. Harry smirked at her knowingly.

“I’d like t’see them try.”

She snorted and pushed her boxes labeled books toward the shelves. “Sorry, I forgot,” she said. “You’re very...down to earth.”

“Thank you, love. I try t’be.” Harry was reading the titles of the books as he put them on her shelves. He thought you could learn a lot about a person based on what they read. She seemed to read a bit of everything which made sense. She appeared worldly and intelligent. Her choices ranged from psychological non-fiction to romantic novels set at Christmas time. There were several historical fiction books as well. “You read a lot?” He asked.

“I used to...” she shrugged. “I get really caught up in my schoolwork. When I have time in the summer, I can read two to three books a week but that’s only when I’m not stressed about other things.”

“I see.”

“Do you read?”

“Uh...a little here and there...but not too often. I should read more. I get very busy with the company and everything,” he explained.

“I’ve been trying to read for thirty minutes every day since...well...since I was staying with Louis and Eleanor. I turn my phone off and set a timer on the microwave and everything. Louis hated waiting for it to be over so we could watch our shows and stuff.”

“S’nice you have Louis and Eleanor,” Harry remarked. “I don’t know what I’d do without Niall.”

“They’ve been the best people in my life for so long,” she said with so much kindness, so much reverence for them, Harry felt his heart stutter just as a bystander for her love for the pair.

“How did you meet them?”

“Louis was my older brother’s best friend. Since before grade school. They did everything together. He’s like my own brother...and Eleanor has been in his life since they were in high school, she’s like an older sister to me, too.”

“Oh, s’nice. I didn’t know you had a brother.”

There was a pause. If Harry wasn’t so enthralled by her, he might have missed how brief the pause really was. But he watched her swallow as she broke the cardboard box down and set it to the side as she slid the next one in front of her to start placing more books on the shelf. Her eyebrows pinched together just slightly. “He died when I was in high school,” she murmured. “Louis and Eleanor haven’t left me alone since.”

Harry thought of his older sister Gemma. The thought of her dying was enough to break his heart. He was overcome with grief for the poor girl who just casually went on organizing her books. Harry wasn’t sure how she could remain upright. How she could continue living. Gemma was one of his best friends. The way she spoke about Louis and Eleanor with so much admiration...he could only imagine how much love she had for her biological brother. “Jesus,” he muttered under his breath. “M’so sorry, love,” he said quietly.

She nodded, swallowed hard again. She didn’t speak for a few minutes. Harry just let her put her books on the shelf and he silently watched her as it was clear the grief while manageable probably hurt a lot at times like this. Her eyes glistened a bit and she shook her head. “You have a sister, you said?” She asked eventually.

“Yeah, she’s older than me, too. Her name’s Gemma.”

She nodded. “You should call her and tell her you love her,” she said quietly. “Often,” she mumbled.

Harry thought he would cry. “I will,” he promised.

They were quiet for a bit of time until all the books were neatly displayed. She stood up and cracked her neck side to side and put her hands on her hips. “Thank you,” she said finally. He shook his head.

“Not a problem, love.”

He was looking at her like she might break down crying. “Can I ask you something?” She wondered.

“Of course.”

“Do...you expect...more from me?” She asked quietly. She didn’t meet his gaze as she asked. Harry saw the way her cheeks turned pink as she spoke. The change in subject seemed so rapid but Harry didn’t know much about the grief she was feeling. It may have been over five years since it happened, but he imagined that coping with it was something that was still so prominent in her life. He wished he dug deeper into her social media. Wished that he searched her name in obituary searches or asked about her family earlier. It seemed like an entirely vulnerable way to bring it up and now she was stuck with him in her apartment where she probably felt completely exposed.

Hence her question. Taking a deep breath Harry wanted to tell her he would love to make out with her like a horny college frat boy. And yes, he had thought of bending her over this cheap furniture at least ten times since he arrived. But Harry liked to believe he wasn’t like most men on the website he found her on; he would never make her do anything she didn’t want to. He wanted her to be comfortable around him. Especially since he was kind of falling madly in love with her with every passing second. “I don’t expect anything but for you t’be yourself, kitten,” he said softly. “If our...relationship heads that way, m’open to it, of course. You’re beautiful, intelligent, kind, and funny. I would love t’do more with you of course. But m’not an animal. M’not going to make you.”

“You kind of pay me to do that though,” she reminded him still not fully looking at him. Her eyes darted to the pile of flattened cardboard boxes, and he watched the way her fingers kind of shook as she reached for other scraps of plastic and Styrofoam to put in the trash pile.

Tilting his head at her, he reached out and placed a hand over hers, stilling the shakiness and gave her a squeeze. It felt like heaven just to hold her hand. Harry felt so lucky he found her before someone else did. “M’not gonna make you do anything you don’t want to. I just want to spoil you.”

“And help me build cheap furniture that you hate?” She asked with a smirk. She squeezed his hand back and Harry swore he could hear wedding bells in his head.

He rolled his eyes. “Don’t remind me,” he practically groaned. “I would’ve bought you real furniture.”

She grinned so cutely, wrinkling her nose at him. “I bought a real couch and bed.”

“A miracle, it seems,” he grumbled looking at the particle board that seemed to bend a bit with each book she placed on the last shelf.

*

Harry felt he was floating he sat in his office. Spending the evening with her, even just building furniture, furthered how smitten he was with the angel he happened to find on the Internet. Over the last month they hung out several more times, not doing much of anything of importance. Some nights they went out and Harry bought her fancy meals and drinks (and her favorite desserts). Other nights they watched a movie on her comfy, stable couch while Harry wondered if her TV stand was going to fall apart under the weight of her TV.

In the meantime, she didn’t see much of Harry while at work. Most of the time she was in Niall’s office tending to his needs and learning the ins and outs of his job. From what Niall said and what he could see, she was a natural, of course. She was brilliant. “If m’not careful, she might take my job,” Niall chuckled rubbing the back of his head. They were meeting in Harry’s office going over his latest spreadsheet that was so much more organized than the last five years of spreadsheets Niall ever provided. As anticipated, it was all thanks to her.

Harry smirked and rolled his eyes. “You would be so lucky,” he muttered.

“You like this one,” Niall noted. Harry avoided his friend’s eye contact as he looked through the papers on his desk.

Harry nodded. “She’s good,” he shrugged.

“The others were good,” Niall replied, knowingly.

“Are y’snooping as my employee or my friend?” He asked without looking up.

“Best friend,” he qualified.

Harry shrugged again and thought about the pretty girl just down the hall looking adorable and being her perfect self. He hadn’t told Niall yet. But he wanted to. His only hesitation was making her uncomfortable. He didn’t think Niall would say or do anything, but...the idea of betraying her trust or making her feel inadequate at work made him feel like it could be the most horrible thing in the world. “She gets me tea,” he smirked.

“Honestly, I was shocked you gave her company card on the first day,” he chuckled.

Harry felt his eyebrows knit close together. “What?” He said simply.

Niall was seated across from him casually and he glanced at Harry almost curiously. He shrugged. “The coffee and tea?” He asked.

“I thought you gave her a card.”

Niall blinked in surprise. “Uh...no,” he shook his head. “I didn’t give her anything.”

Harry felt irritated. The kind of irritation he felt when she tried to pay for dinner. Or when she bought cheap furniture. Or any time she thought she was inconveniencing him. There was a knock on the other side of Harry’s office at that moment. “Come in,” he called.

“Oh, speak of the angel,” Niall grinned brightly. Harry stared at her, coffee, tea in her hand. Smiling kindly as she entered, she set the tray of drinks on Harry’s desk, and he watched her every movement.

“Talking about me?” She asked quietly. “Doesn’t sound good.”

“All good things, darling,” he promised.

“How do you pay for our coffee?” Harry asked bluntly, quickly, ignoring Niall entirely. He was miffed. In over a month of being here she had probably spent at least a hundred dollars a week of her own money on coffee for the three of them. More, if she went on behalf of other people. Which she was apt to do if anyone asked while in the same room when she asked Niall if he wanted something.

“Harry,” he said quietly. “Stop,” Niall rolled his eyes.

“Uh...I pay for it,” she admitted.

Niall blinked. “You pay for it?” He asked.

“Um...yeah...I thought—”

“Darling, that’s probably cost you a small fortune...s’not sustainable.”

Technically it was Harry buying coffee. But that’s not what he gave her money for.

“Really, it’s okay. I have—”

Harry was already pulling a checkbook out of his top desk drawer. He wrote her name and made it out for a thousand dollars before sliding it to her. She blanched seeing the amount. Oh, she was going to get an earful later. She just knew it. “Let me know if you need more,” he said simply. “Niall, can you please go get her a company card?” Niall stood taking his drink from the tray and headed for the door. He knew when Harry meant business. Literally and figuratively. This was one of those times. He didn’t fully understand why Harry was all up in arms about this, but if he was going to write her a check for coffee, he wasn’t going to question his friend’s reasoning.

“Wait, Niall...,” she said hurriedly. Her cheeks were warming, and her heart rate felt aflutter...like when Harry picked her up from her apartment and held doors open for her. “I...I just set up a tab with the Starbucks across the street. They give us a discount because I go so often. I just tip them and pay at the end of each week...it’s not this much,” she said quickly handing the check back to Harry. A look passed between the two of them and Harry looked away briefly before Niall caught it. He didn’t want him to be suspicious...he would tell him. Niall was his best friend after all. But he couldn’t do it in the workplace. This was a private conversation for sure.

“You set up a tab?” Niall asked. Harry stared at her with so much...annoyance. She could feel his irritation seeping through the air, and she truly thought she was going to lose both her jobs for this. It was just coffee and she had already told Harry she didn’t need as much money as he gave her. Coffee was the least she could do. “Why didn’t we think of that?” Niall directed his question to Harry.

Harry didn’t know either. His agitation disintegrated by the second as he realized she was much more brilliant than he gave her credit for—even for something as simple and lovely as coffee. She didn’t make eye contact with anyone. It made her look like she was in trouble with a school principal. Her fingers fidgeted with the pockets of her skirt and Harry thought about how he wanted to kick Niall out of his office and how much he would love to rip the skirt off her so he could have her all to himself. She was too beautiful, too smart. He was grateful he was seated behind his desk hiding his lower half. “Don’t buy coffee for anyone here with your own money,” Harry told her.

“I’m sorry.”

“Oh stop,” Niall said shaking his head coming back to her. He put a hand on her arm and gave her a gentle squeeze. “‘Thank you, darling.’ Is what Harry meant.”

“Yes. Thank you. Don’t do it again.” Harry didn’t fully understand what was happening to him regarding this perfect girl. Never in his life did he anticipate finding a companion online, spoiling her rotten, and seemingly falling for her at the same time. So much so that he was jealous of Niall. He wanted to yank his best friend’s arm out of its socket solely for touching her arm.

Unfortunately, she saw the way his eyes connected with Niall’s hand on her arm. She was definitely going to get an earful tonight.

--

taglist: @tpwkstiles @matildasatellite @jessitpwk @jerseygirlinca

#harry #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles blurb #harry styles blurbs #harry styles smut #harry styles angst #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfiction #ceo!harry #sugardaddy!harry #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x reader #one direction #one direction writing #traditional

[thestarsarecool]

Hearing "Mistress and Maid" next to "Eleanor Rigby," "For No One" and "Yesterday," I realized that McCartney's public image as an eternal optimist is not supported by his work. It was something I'd been circling around since I heard Steve Earle's new version of "I'm Lookin Through You," as bitter a put-down song as ever got softened in the studio. McCartney has certainly written lots of positive songs, but from "Hey Jude" and "Let It Be" to "That Day is Done" and "Put It There," his optimism is always in the face of a shadow. There is always some awful thing that has to be overcome. If there's a defining subtext in McCartney's music it's probably "Take these broken wings and learn to fly."

"Yeah, well," McCartney said quietly, "that's me I suppose. I think that the danger is if you just get into the happy songs then it can be a little bit music hall. It can get a little bit light. So I like to always have a little bit of edge, or else a little bit of tongue-in-cheek. You know, 'When I'm 64' isn't really a song about growing old, although on the surface it is. It's a joke song, but it has serious concerns in it, a little melancholy.

'Yesterday'--she went away and all that shit. 'Suddenly I'm not half the man I used to be.' But if you think about it, I was writing those in my early 20s! Talking about not half the man I used to be when I was barely a man!" I said, if you'd been half that man you'd have been eleven.

"They have more poignancy now," McCartney said, "just because of the water that's been under all our bridges. So we all now relate to those lyrics a little bit more seriously. Perhaps." He changed gears and said, "But you know, my composing has always been made up, it's a fantasy. I remember George Harrison saying to me when I did 'Ob-La-Di, Ob-La-Da,' 'How'd you do that? You don't know anyone named Desmond or Molly, you don't know any of these people.'

I said, 'I just like making up a story.' A short story writer doesn't necessarily know the pit and the pendulum, he hasn't necessarily been to Dracula's castle. But he makes it up as an escape in a way. I think a lot of my songwriting always was, and still is, an escape."

From?

"From the harsh realities of the world. If I'm in a bad mood, I always find that a good time to write a song. Go off on your own and put the feelings in a song rather than in someone's face. The fact that it's a musical vehicle seems to defuse it a bit. Rather than just shouting at someone or wagging a finger, you can get those emotions out.”

Paul McCartney in Musician Magazine, August 1st 1995.

#I have always loved this quote because of the when I’m 64 bit #because he’s so right! #there is a youch of melancholy to it #it’s desperate #but the whole thing is rather interesting #my quotes #paul mccartney #the beatles

[celaenaeiln]

lol hi its me 12 am anon so uh tldr is that i hung out with my friend and we got drunk and we made out or smth but more importantly they made w fuckin list of dick grayson things i started talking abt while drunk

- “bad idea right?” but its dick grayson and his exes

- bruce technically gave dick a family but dick’s the one who like truly made it feel like a family when it comes down to it he’ll fuck up bruce for his siblings

- that one “5 man band” trope and how he can fit as the leader and the heart

- into a specific (blank) to lovers? dick grayson’s got you covered

- the “barney from how i met your mother basketball hoop scene” and “eleanor from the good place mom she never had” but make it dick and bruce (teenage or adult idc i’d love both)

- nightwing could 100% be the figurehead of the dceu (like im talking spiderman level) if dc would do something [this was timed . i talked abt this for like 30 minutes all on its own]

i am . so embarrassed. also i dont know if we made out before or after the rant and i dont know which is more embarrassing .

what. what. "more importan-" NO! NO ARE YOU KIDDING ME THAT IS NOT MORE IMPORTANTLY OH MY GOD!!!

MY MIND IS LITERALLY BREAKING RIGHT NOW!

WHAT HAPPENED AFTER THAT? Do you like her? Did she say anything?! I-

WAIT DOES THAT MEAN DICK GRAYSON LITERALLY GOT YOU TWO TOGETHER?!

NO WAIT!! SHE KISSED BACK. SHE KISSED BACK!

oh my god i'm reeling.

Have you guys talked about it yet?

I HAVE SO MANY QUESTIONS

I LITERALLY CAN'T THINK OF DICK GRAYSON RIGHT NOW AFTER THAT BOMB YOU DROPPED ON ME BUT FINE

"Bad idea right" was literally written for Dick Grayson!

Nightwing (1996) Issue #133

"Bad idea right?"

Actually every single Olivia Rodrigo's songs feels like Dick wrote it.

Like the sour album? Every time I listen to it I imagine that Dick just wrote the album because he was so mad at bruce after being fired from Robin lol.

"bruce technically gave dick a family but dick’s the one who like truly made it feel like a family when it comes down to it he’ll fuck up bruce for his siblings"

That's true too!

Batman (2011) Issue #11

"The truth is, I didn't save you from some dark fate, those years ago. You saved me from one."

Batman (2011) Issue #11

"And you still are saving me, every day."

Bruce gave Dick security but Dick gave Bruce a life. He gave Bruce the ability to become human, to be happy.

Take Gotham War for example,

Batman (2016) Issue #138

Bruce tells Jason he's saving Jason from himself and Jason in turn asks Bruce who's going to save Bruce from himself.

Cut immediately to -

Batman (2016) Issue #138

Dick.

Dick has always been there to pull Bruce out of his darkest days when he tries or is willing but Bruce giving up on Dick's ability to do so is symbolic of him giving up on himself. It's the height of Bruce's irredeemability.

Even after Jason died, Bruce indirectly called Dick to come join him but at this point his back up personality is too far gone for him to recover.

Batman: The Return

Dick literally is the reason Bruce stays connects to the batfamily. In a good way.

He has no reservations about keeping Bruce in check.

"that one “5 man band” trope and how he can fit as the leader and the heart"

5 man band trope: one leads, one contrasts, one thinks, one fights, and one keeps all of the above from killing one another

DAMN RIGHT

He's the leader.

Batman: Gotham Nights (2020) Issue #12

And the one that keeps them all together

Batman: Gotham Nights (2020) Issue #12

Dick is the defacto leader when Bruce is gone or lost it.

Batman (2016) Issue #137

Batman (2016) Issue #704

Batman (2016) Issue #704

"Selina doesn't run Gotham. You do. While I'm away."

And the family's protector.

Batman (2016) Issue #137

"into a specific (blank) to lovers? dick grayson’s got you covered"

Yup!

Canonical:

Childhood partner to lovers - Raya Vestri

Friends to lovers - Barbara Gordon

Enemies to lovers - Shawn Tsang

Psuedo-family to lovers - Helena Wayne (they actually married in Earth 2)

Crime fighting partner to lovers - Helena Bertenelli

Kiss at first sight to lovers - Koriand'r

Pseudo-therapist to lover - Bea Bennet

Landlord to lovers - Bridget Clancy

Teammates to lovers - Zatanna

X to lovers - literally him and everyone

He's just so shippable that way. Not gonna lie, literally all of his relationships Dick and his lover have been great together.

the “barney from how i met your mother basketball hoop scene” and “eleanor from the good place mom she never had” but make it dick and bruce (teenage or adult idc i’d love both)

The New Teen Titans Issue #50

Man this hits hard. I've never seen how I met your mother but the parallels in the basketball hoop scene and Dick's talk with Bruce are uncanny.

The thing I think is weird about Dick and Bruce's relationship is that it's steeped in insecurities for each other. Dick feels hurt and betrayed and lost as to why Bruce would take in a new robin so suddenly and Bruce's tenure as Dick's robin is riddled with insecurities about him not being a good enough partner.

Batman and Robin Eternal Issue #6

However it's because of these insecurities that I believe they are close.

The difference between Barney and his dad, from what I gather from the clip, is that his dad never acted like one to Barney.

But with Dick and Bruce? Bruce was a good dad to Dick. But he was a terrible partner. Bruce treated Dick like an equal while still fielding reservations about his age and dealing with his own insecurities. Bruce knows that what he's doing is not right but at the same time Dick is far too competent. His intelligence, his athletic skills, his compassion, and his fearlessness were light years beyond anyone Bruce had ever met and Bruce acklnowledges this.

Batman and Robin, The Boy Wonder Issue #2

"The GAS was supposed to knock his OUT. His brain out to be sailing past the MOON, right now. What's this brat MADE out of?"

Batman: The Widening Gyre Issue #1

Bruce's biggest problem with Dick is literally that he talks to much.

Dick is equal in every way to Batman and even exceeds him in some ways when he was Robin itself. So Bruce pushes the responsibilities of Batman's partner on to Dick while treating his as his son, mother, therapist, and partner. And Dick steps up to that. Soon they fall into a rhythm where Dick is Bruce's one for all human interaction. So imagine when you have a constant thing with someone that you're comfortable with and they suddenly start holding back from you. They begin talking about how you're too young to handle adult responsibilities. How you shouldn't be facing that burden. Now you're confused. Those responsibilities they are criticizing you for are the very ones that depended on you for. So now you start doubting yourself and trying harder and harder to make them see that you can handle the job. While you're struggling with confusion, they're struggling with guilt.

That is Bruce and Dick's relationship. Bruce grew a conscious after 10 years and Dick can't understand it. So there comes the self-blame and strife.

What Dick doesn't understand his Bruce feels guilty of his over reliance on Dick. Dick's self-blame has come to such a point that now even when Bruce in full honesty rants about how proud he is of Dick, Dick holds reservations because if Bruce was really proud then he would dump all the responsibilities on him right?

It's really messed up.

"nightwing could 100% be the figurehead of the dceu (like im talking spiderman level) if dc would do something [this was timed . i talked abt this for like 30 minutes all on its own]"

LOL

I think the Dawn of DC does have Dick be the figurehead or at least he will be in the future. We're just getting the beginning now.

Nightwing (2016) Issue #100

Nightwing (2016) Issue #100

Nightwing (2016) Issue #100

Nightwing (2016) Issue #100

"We want you to lead."

Justice League (2011) Issue #51

It comes full circle.

#PLEASE PLEASE PLEASE UPDATE ME #dick grayson #nightwing #bruce wayne #batman #tim drake #red robin #damian wayne #robin #jason todd #red hood #batfamily #clark kent #superman #robin dick grayson #diana prince #wonder woman #thanks for the ask! #cl 12 am anon asks

[deconstructthesoup]

Fantasy High Good Place AU

I am very happy that y'all voted for this, because it's been living in my brain rent-free for the past couple weeks.

So, right off the bat---this is partially self-indulgence, and partially a little exploration of what the Bad Kids would be like as adults if they hadn't found each other... and, well, if they were living in a more mundane world. And, of course, I had to combine and add a couple roles, just to make everyone fit.

Fig: She's in the Eleanor role as the main POV character, and as the first person who decides to learn how to be better. In life, she was a twenty-seven-year-old musician living in Phoenix, Arizona who was still trying to find her big break, and got by via drug-dealing after a string of shitty service jobs. Fig hasn't spoken to her mom in years, even after both Gilear and Gordie (aka Gorthalax) have both died, and she put up a front of selfishness and constant lies due to not trusting anyone and being afraid of being vulnerable. But when she dies and supposedly gets mistaken for a pro-bono death-row lawyer, she realizes that she's gotta ask for help...

Ayda: She's in the Chidi role---a high-strung ethics professor who devoted her life to figuring out the deep secrets of the universe, often at the cost of her own mental health. She's not as indecisive as Chidi, but she's very much of the mindset that ethical standards should always be upholded, and she initially sees nothing wrong with the points system. As Ayda becomes closer to Fig, she starts to pick up on how the system doesn't count for extenuating circumstances, and how much of an actual minefield ethics is... and she starts to reflect on her own life, where she never knew how to connect with others and stayed in her comfort zone of academia. Throughout bonding with the others, she slowly learns how to let her walls down and challenge the system.

Fabian: He's in a Tahani role, as the upper-class socialite who pretty much bought his way into "heaven" and definitely has a bunch of narcissistic tendencies. Unlike Tahani, however, he's very much aware of his own failings, and he constantly stresses about how fragile his standing and happiness is---though, he's become incredibly good at hiding it. Fabian's pretty much been living in the shadow of his late father's legacy for his whole life, and he spent most of that life trying to be just as good, if not better, than him... so, when he supposedly gets into the "Good Place," it's essentially proof that he did everything right. Of course, that still doesn't keep him from feeling like there's something amiss, especially since there's some issues with his assigned soulmate...

Riz: In life, Riz was a P.I. who mostly did petty work for rich people and got used to doing things that were vaguely shady in order to get by. By the time he died, he had a very low opinion of people in general, and had a "dog eat dog" mindset... which was immediately blown out of the water the second he realized that he'd been mistaken for a brilliant secret agent, and he was going to spend his afterlife with a self-centered rich boy as romantic soulmates. Riz being Riz, he immediately started to figure a way out of this situation, eventually finding out Fig---and one other person---and agreeing to take Ayda's ethics lessons if it meant he could earn his spot in the Good Place... though, of course, he's still subconsciously picking up on the little hints that something is off.

Kristen: She's in the "Jason" role... sorta. When she was alive, she was a former member of a conservative Christian cult who left when she was nineteen, spent the next five years trying to find another truth to pursue, and spent the last three years of her life partying her problems away and living high on nihilism. So it was quite a shock for her when, after dying, she supposedly got sent to the Good Place... and only because they thought that she's a humanitarian pastor, and straight to boot. Kristen initially doesn't want to waste time with ethics lessons, but as more and more things start to go wrong, she reluctantly agrees---and ends up reconnecting with that curious, searching part of herself that she thought she'd left behind, over and over again.

Gorgug: When he was alive, he was a physicist who made a lot of impressive discoveries---many of which had the potential to really help people---but due to the fact that he had a lot of issues with standing up for himself and believed himself to not be as smart as he actually was, he tended to let himself get taken advantage of and have other people take credit for his work. Getting into the Good Place kind of confirmed Gorgug's belief that keeping your head down and being humble would pay off eventually... until his assigned soulmate immediately told him that she was a) gay, and b) here by mistake. The two of them do become pretty good friends, and Gorgug even sits in on some of Ayda's ethics lessons, learning a bit about himself as he does.

Adaine: She's Janet---or, rather, an "Oracle," one of many informational assistants made by the Good Place (the Bad Place has Informants, while Accountants have Librarians). Every Oracle is given a name upon being activated in order to distinguish her from others, and, well, hers is Adaine. She starts off as your typical cheery, happy-to-help living Siri, but as time goes on and she gets rebooted over and over again, she starts to form genuine connections with the humans, and with connections come actual feelings... including the rise of mild anxiety. Adaine's grateful for that, though, as she sees becoming more human as an incredible experience.

Aelwyn: Honestly... there was no other character who was bitchy, multifaceted, and weirdly loving enough to be Micheal. At first, underneath her quirky and "cool older sister" angel persona, she's every bit the callous, vindictive, and cruel demon who only lives to torment human souls and prove her worth to her boss. But reboot after reboot, she fails, the humans become closer and figure her out... and she's eventually forced to cave. Aelwyn never fully loses her bitchiness and slightly amoral nature, but she does develop a heart and self-awareness as she becomes friends with the humans---and as she forms a sisterly connection with Adaine. Even a demon can learn to grow.

I have more thoughts, but I've spent a lot of time figuring out how to make this coherent, so... yeah!

#dimension 20 #fantasy high #the good place #fig faeth #ayda aguefort #fabian seacaster #riz gukgak #kristen applebees #gorgug thistlespring #adaine abernant #aelwyn abernant #figayda