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lovelyladyabsinthewrites · 6 months

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Darlin’, Darlin’

Pairing(s): Jacob Black x Swan!Reader, Jacob Black x Bella Swan, Edward Cullen x Bella Swan

Warnings: wolf imprinting, scenting, makeout, agedup!jacob, hurt&comfort, one night stands, changed it a little bit from the prompt, renee being a crap mom, sorry i tend to write her in a negative light but i have never been able to stand her character 😅, plus i have my own unresolved mommy issues lol 😅 , mention of alcohol consumption, reader smokes, unprotected sex just imagine reader being on birth control, flings, virgin!jacob, losing that v card, kinda bitchy reader?

Words: 4818

Stepping one foot out of your taxi, you finally take in the sight of the Cullen residence. Just to make sure, you double check the address that was on the wedding invitation.

Yup, this was the place.

Already there's festive laughter streaming out of the house. Some people lingered on the large wrap-around porch, talking amongst one another.

You weren't looking forward to the wedding but your mother called and pestered you enough to where you just gave up and sent in your RSVP despite your reservations. It wasn't that you didn't like Bella, you just never liked the idea of marriage. Your mom had failed at several before. In the end you always wondered what the point of it all was.

And a wedding in your mind was the most absurd thing to waste one's money on. Especially one as extravagant as this one. You surmise that the Cullens obviously were the ones to foot the wedding bill. Neither Charlie nor Renee would have the funds to put together a glittery wonderland like this one.

Readjusting the skirt of your dress, you walk up the steps, bombarded by the loud music and chatter. You were already regretting going through with it when you weave through the throng of people in the house. Unfamiliar faces that stare at you in your trek to find Renee. Though really you just wanted to fist a few drinks into you first. Your mom wouldn't be happy if you got drunk so early. It would definitely lighten your mood, but you shake off any thoughts of libations.

After asking around, you learn she's upstairs helping the bride get ready.

Fine paintings were displayed on the wall as you take one step at a time. They look to be originals too. Not that you knew much about art. The paintings were beautiful regardless. Everything about the Cullen house was meticulously perfect. A wonder how your clumsy sister was marrying into this atmosphere.

You follow a gaggle of female voices to a closed bedroom door. When you knock, a short pixie of a girl opens it with startling gold eyes. "You must be Bella's sister!" She's open and inviting, tugging you by the arm inside of the room.

Renee calls over to you, delighted at your presence. "You made it!" She throws her arms around you, suffocating your nose with her strong perfume. Like with most of your family, you were never close to Renee. The moment you were accepted into a university away from her, you leapt on the opportunity and never looked back.

She steers you to where Bella is standing in front of a floor length mirror that reflects her image. Her wedding gown was sleek and not as terrible as you first imagined it to be. When was the last time you'd seen her? Probably not since your own senior year in Arizona.

Her dark eyes round at your appearance, definitely not expecting you to be there.

"Hey Bella. Congratulations." Your lips quirk up in a small smile that hides your desire to not be there. This is what you had to do in front of your family. Put on a mask and pretend you were happy to see them. You felt awkward in that room, knowing your interaction was being watched by the pixie girl, your mom and an unknown blonde woman who was drop dead gorgeous.

Her thin lips part in a struggle to gather any useful words. "Th-Thanks." It was clear she didn't really know how to act around you either.

You shoot an anxious look to your mom as if to say 'See, I did what you wanted me to do now let me free.' Ridiculous how you still looked to her for any guidance even though she would offer you none. Renee merely sighs and nods her head toward the door.

Relief makes the warmth in your face cool down as you give Bella an awkward wave goodbye before hightailing it out and back down the stairs. The rest of the house was no better. Your claustrophobia starting to get the best of you as you desperately try to elbow your way to the backyard for some fresh air. It was so stuffy in there. The lack of fresh air flow was really starting to get to you.

That's when you bump into someone- well honestly you thought it was a wall by how sturdy and hard the person's body was. Wobbling backwards, you're grateful that at least the body you bumped into had faster reflexes than you. A large, tan hand grips at your wrist to pull you back up and stabilize your posture.

You stare up into a handsome face with penetrating dark eyes. His jaw slackens, whatever he was going to say. Pure shock ripples across his face.

"S-sorry about that." You apologize and brush off his hand, or at least try to. His grip on your wrist is incredibly strong. Furrowing your brows you look back up to him. "Um, excuse me. . ."

He blinks, snapping himself out of whatever stupor he'd been in. "Sorry. Sorry." His fingers reluctantly release your wrist, hovering over your skin until you pull your hand back to your chest. Cute and towering over you, you feel the anxiousness in your chest from the crowd subside. He doesn't move. Instead he introduces himself with a shallow breath. "I'm Jacob Black."

"Oh, Jacob Black. That name sounds familiar." You reply and give him your own name.

"You're Bella's sister." Jacob states but his voice still held a bit of confusion.

You awkwardly chuckle. "Yeah, that's me." The intense way he's looking at you has you slightly uneasy. "How do you know Bella?"

"We. . ." he clears his throat, finally averting his gaze from you. "We're friends. I live on the reservation. Charlie and my dad are best friends."

Trying to remember your childhood with Charlie, nothing comes up. When your parents split, initially you lived with him. But being a small kid alone at night while he was working wasn't really ideal. After a while it was decided that you should be with Renee and Bella. It must have seemed like the best option. Honestly you were screwed with either parent.

"Since you've been in the loop," from your peripheral you notice a waiter carrying around a tray of drinks (thank god they were serving alcohol before the ceremony) "what is Bella's fiancee like?"

That sours his face. Jacob doesn't bother to try and hide his dislike for this guy that was marrying your sister. His lips squirm but he couldn't conjure any positive words. "He's. . . well, I don't trust him."

"Why? Does he mistreat her?"

"Well-"

"Oh!" You smile when you connect the dots. "You like Bella, don't you?"

He's slightly loud now. "No!! No, I-I don't like her. I mean, I did, but not anymore, obviously."

Was it obvious though? The way he was yammering on made it all too obvious that he still had feelings for her. You watch him suffer, occasionally taking a sip of your champagne. When he winds himself out, he mutters one more apology. Jacob's face a beet red. You just chuckle.

"No need to apologize. Guess it was my bad. I don't know much about Bella. We've never been close. I was just curious."

Around you, the flow of guests was starting to congregate to the backyard. "I think it's time." You take one more sip and set aside your champagne flute.

At the reception, you again find yourself outside on the front porch. Her husband (and his family) were quite honestly the most beautiful people you'd ever set your gaze on. And they seemed to genuinely love Bella. You just hope that her marriage lasts longer than any of Renee's.

Next to you on the front step was another cocktail. Your fingers were occupied with holding up your cigarette. Watching the slow dance of the smoke curling upward. It was a beautiful evening, you'd give them that.

Having said hello to Charlie a few minutes ago, all of your duties here were over. You'd stay in the little rinky dink motel that Forks has tonight then head back to your actual home.

Snuffing out the stubby remnants of your cigarette, you toss back the rest of your drink and fish your phone out of your jacket pocket.

You're about to call a taxi before you hear the creaking of the porch's floorboards behind you. Twisting around to see Jacob Black leaning against the wooden column. "Heading out so soon?"

All honesty, he was cute. A year or two younger than you, Jacob was like a giant in comparison to Bella's now husband. More muscular too.

"Yeah. I have to go back to work the day after tomorrow." You won't tell him just how eager you were to return even if that meant you had to work. Anything was better than be surrounded by strangers. "I have a motel room for the night though. Gonna call a taxi."

"I can give you a ride, if you want. It'll probably take a taxi time to get up here." Jacob looks down the narrow, winding road that was the only one to lead up to the Cullen estate.

"Really?"

There's a ripple of relief in his gaze and the spreading of his smile. "Of course. You wanna go now?"

Arching a brow, you look around him to the front door where inside was the warmth of celebration. "You don't want to stay?"

His nose scrunches up. "Nah. There's nothing left for me in there."

Weird way to put it but you shrug it off and follow Jacob to a little red Volkswagen car that, while being on the older side of vehicles, appeared to be well maintained. Definitely didn't match any of the other fancy looking cars lining the Cullen's driveway. You're surprised they didn't hire a valet.

Pure magic the way Jacob maneuvers his car around all of the others without hitting any of them. Watching it made you nervous so you'd squeezed your eyes tight, listening to Jacob chuckle.

A good thing about Forks was that it wasn't a big town. And the motel was the only local one in the town.

"I appreciate this. Can I give you money for gas?" You lean back into the worn cushions of the seat.

"Don't worry about it." He just waves you off. The lightness in his voice doesn't match the anxious drumming of his fingers against the wheel. You frown at the behavior, tucking it away in the back of your mind. Your nature was to be untrustworthy of people. Especially those you've just met.

"Why did you go to Bella's wedding?"

"Because she invited me. And. . . as much as I hate him, Bella's still my friend."

That was sweet but the ceremony must have been a dagger in his heart, another reminder that the girl he loved could never be his.

'Why did you go to her wedding? You looked like the whole thing was actual torture." Jacob turns your question against yourself. "You even said that you aren't close with Bella."

"Obligation. My mother paid for a plane ticket to come to the wedding without my knowledge. Really laid that guilt heavy when she said the ticket was expensive." You roll your eyes when you remembered that phone call. "And I guess it's the least I can do as the older sister. Just show up."

A lull in conversation settles until Jacob brings up "So you probably won't be coming back any time soon. . . That's a shame. . ."

You shrug. "There really isn't a reason for me to stay. My life isn't here."

The drinks you previously consumed were beginning to make your tummy warm and your morals. . . well, loose. You start really taking in Jacob's side profile, his defined cheekbones and full lips. The muscles that are roped in his neck. Were you really entertaining the idea of sleeping with Bella's sloppy seconds?

You bite your bottom lip, fighting against the ache you feel between your legs. It had been a while since you'd last had a good rutting. But you felt that this guy, no matter how sexy he appeared, was a virgin. That was something you didn't want to deal with. You wanted a man who knew what he was doing.

Reigning in your drunk horniness, you turn your head to stare back out the window. No, you definitely didn't want to have another reason to come back here.

Quiet the rest of the way to the motel, you watch the neon sign grow closer as Jacob pulled into the pebbly parking lot. You stretch and grab your bag from between your feet.

"Thanks again for the ride. Are you sure you don't want any money for gas?"

Why did he look like a sad puppy?

"Like I said, it's alright. But. . . Can I get your number instead?"

You feel your brows shoot up and you know you must have a ridiculous expression. "My number? What for?"

His cheeks tinge with warmth as Jacob peels his eyes away from you. Yup, definitely a virgin.

"I'd. . . I'd like to get to know you." Was all he could mumble out.

Damn he was making it too easy for you.

An impish curl to your lips. "You can still get to know me. Want to come inside for a little bit?" The implication was too obvious that even Jacob was able to catch on your meaning.

Poor thing is stammering, conflicted with saying yes but the sweet part of him wanted to reject your offer. You really didn't think he would agree but enjoyed the shock he got from your words.

Letting him sit in the car perplexed, you open the car door and bid him goodnight.

It only took a second before you heard footsteps right behind you. You felt his body heat at your back when you open your motel room door. The lights were still on, the way you left them, at least casting a warm glow over the meager furniture in the room. You set your bag down on the chair and finally turn around to face Jacob.

He's blushing terribly, unable to hide his nerves and you take pity on him.

"You can sit down, ya know." you chuckle and he obediently sits on the edge. "You said you wanted to get to know me more, right?" Crouching down, you open the mini fridge that the motel offered. Having already stashed away some items you bought at the liquor store. Fingers crack open the can.

Jacob's gaze fires something inside of you. His blush was intense but it didn't compare to the heat in his eyes. A small blush of your own actually tinges your face. "Yeah. I did. Like what's your favorite color or your favorite food?" His smile would flood any girl's panties.

You hide your giggle by taking a sip from your can. "Hmm, those are real stumpers." The more the both of you joked around, the more tension that leaves Jacob's frame. Sitting next to him he's now comfortable enough to scoot closer to you so that your bodies are pressed together.

In a rather sneaky way, Jacob had stolen your can of beer and was drinking from it too. Well, now you couldn't have him driving back home tonight with a good conscious.

And just as the alcohol was starting to warm him too, his hands grew bold and traveled from resting on your thigh to your waist and higher until you were pressed against his chest. Jacob's kiss overflows with passion and lust that completely takes your breath away. He's definitely kissed before, that much was certain.

His skin nearly scalds under your fingers as they find themselves gripping the soft cotton material of his button up.

This was a new Jacob that you hadn't seen. Was he keeping this part hidden deep down all along?

Hot hands hike up the hem of your dress, impatient to rove the skin of your upper thighs. He palms the soft, squishy flesh of the insides of your thighs before pausing near the elastic band of your panties. He's groaning to himself, knowing what lay beyond the flimsy fabric. Just to verify for yourself, you grind yourself against the tent of his pants. Jacob shivers and given your unvoiced permission, his fingers pull aside your underwear.

His face is hidden in the crook of your neck, lips nipping at the juncture of your jaw. It makes your head tilt back to give him more access. Jacob growls in appreciation, thick fingers playing with your wet pussy lips. You squirm, wanting him inside of you but he was strong and kept you at bay. If this was indeed his first time then Jacob was in no rush. Like he wanted to memorize through the touch of his fingers each intimate part of you.

Nose nuzzling the soft skin of your throat, inhaling deeply. A finger grazes over your swollen clit making you jump from the sudden contact. Your little whine just makes his cock harder. Jacob chokes on his own moan and glides over your clit again.

Most men wouldn't even know where the clit is. Especially virgins. Jacob seemed to find it right away and liked how this small button of nerves could send you into a spasming fit.

As much as you want to regain control, your head is swimming from the attention he's giving your body. Eager hands and lips.

Jacob becomes slack jawed when he finally inserts a finger past your sopping folds. "Oh fuck"

He keeps whispering 'fuck fuck fuck' as his finger slides in and out, helped by your pooling arousal coating it. Your mewling is cut short though and turns into a cry of dismay when he removes his hand completely to examine his glistening digits. Bringing it up his lips, he sniffs it and you swear a dark possessiveness seizes his expression. Jacob licks his fingers and thumb clean.

While he's distracted, you scramble to fling your clothes off; skin burning up with desire. When you look back at him, his eyes are now glued to your naked form.

"Come on. You're turn." You grin and lean back against the pillows on the bed.

So obedient, Jacob nearly rips his shirt to shreds. The buttons were but an obstacle to him now.

Boy were you delighted to see his sculpted body. His abs and cum gutters that were oh so prominent. And once his pants were removed-

How was this guy still a virgin??

You've been with your share of men, but none of them had a cock as thick as a beer can. Damn near hypnotized watching it as he crawls on the bed and slots himself in between your open legs. Something animalistic on his face as he grabs your legs and throws them over his broad shoulders. Going by pure instinct, the bulb of Jacob's cock is dragged along your begging slit, experimentally bullying the tip inside.

Once he had the tip in, he snaps his hips harshly, piercing you and stretching out the walls of your pussy with his thick cock.

Now you're the one chanting 'fuck fuck fuck' repeatedly as he gives you no time to adjust. Now that he's inside of you, Jacob can't help but devour you entirely. Fingers digging into your plush skin as he holds onto you tightly. The tight squeeze your pussy offered his cock was driving him inside so that he mercilessly pounded into you. You enjoy every second, every ram his cock tip dealt your cervix. It was impossible for a virgin to fuck you this good and this dumb but there you were just a screaming mess. Absolutely no thoughts in your head, only focusing on the stretch the width of his cock gives you.

You try your best to buck against him, to reciprocate every pleasure he gave you but it was laborious to keep up with him. So you just let him use you as a fuck doll.

You wanted to be fucked into oblivion.

Jacob had a rude awakening the following morning, not just due to the slight headache that was ringing in his brain, but because when he reached over for the warm body he thought was next to him there was only cold bed sheets.

He peels his eyes open to find the bed completely empty besides himself. There was a piece of paper with black inked writing. It had an apology. You were running late to your flight and apologized.

But no number.

Staring at it for a moment, Jacob sighs, running a hand over his face. He just couldn't believe what he'd done last night. Worse was you'd left no number.

Really, he couldn't help himself once he'd imprinted on you. That was sealing the fate of the night. Especially when he smelled your arousal. Fuck, he was just hoping to be invited to stay with you. Though he didn't quite believe it at first when you'd offered him to come inside your room. He would've done anything in the moment to stay a little longer with you.

The alcohol wasn't what really urged him on once he got going, it was the wolf in him. To claim and. . . Jacob blushes to admit it, but to breed too. All instinctual, of course. He wasn't ready for kids and clearly you weren't either. But that's what his wolf was howling at him to do.

It was embarrassing to admit that at the end of the day, his wolf really did control him.

He runs away from his own thoughts by reading your note again, overly focusing on the lack of number. Anxious thoughts sweep him up in a smashing wave.

Pressure upon his chest makes him feel like he can't breathe. Repressing the urge to shapeshift into a stronger form that would allow him to really express the anguish he was feeling. It hurt when Bella rejected him. The hurt had stayed with him up until he'd spotted you.

He thought it cruel kismet that you turned out to be Bella's sister. Who would blame him though? No one has seen you in Forks since you were small. And Bella never spoke of you either. To him, you'd only been an urban legend with only a handful of pictures as shaky evidence.

This explains everything though. Why he was drawn to Bella. She would eventually lead him to who he really belonged with. You.

The animal in him gnashes it's teeth together, growling for it's imprintee, it's mate.

If only Jacob knew.

Find her.

A constant bark in his mind until he leapt from the bed and got dressed. He couldn't silence it until he obeyed. Finding his cellphone drained of battery. Jacob curses his past self for not charging it prior to the wedding. He'd have to wait to call Bella and hopefully she would answer on her honeymoon.

You frown at the unknown number that had your phone ringing. Since you were at work, you ignore it.

At first.

Four more calls sets you at your limit until you excuse yourself and go into the hall to answer it. "Hello?"

"You're a piece of work, you know that?! Showing up to my wedding without speaking to me for years?!"

"You invited me! And mom made me!" You snap, knowing who it was. Bella. What was she doing calling you? She was supposed to be on her honeymoon with her perfect husband. Renee must have given her your number. "What is it? What's so important that you pulled me away from work?"

"How could you do that to Jacob? You fuck him a-and then just leave without anything?!" You remember that stutter from childhood. It always got worse when Bella was upset.

Grinding your molars, you make sure to lower your voice so you weren't heard from your coworkers. "I left a note explaining that I would be late to my flight."

You hear her derisive scoff "But no contact information! Was he just a fling to you? A-A boy toy?!!"

The laugh left you before you could stop it.

"You think this is funny?!"

Cackling now, you have to take a deep breath to settle yourself. "Oh my god I don't think I've heard anyone say that in years!"

That adds heat to her tone. "You can't use people like that!!"

"I didn't use him. For god's sake Bella, we had a good time and that was that. I told him I didn't have anything left in Forks. Gave him plenty of opportunities to leave. I didn't force-"

"He-he REALLY likes you. And you just tossed him aside! That night meant more to him than you could possibly know!"

Maybe you should have been more considerate. But your jaded side was strong, having been fucked over by guys one too many times before. Some of them virgins too. Fuck you didn't want to say Bella was right.

"He can't be that upset that I dashed without leaving him a number. We hardly know each other. He'll find someone else now that he has the confidence that he could even get a girl."

Bella goes silent for a moment. You hear soft whispers in the background, most likely Edward. She returns to you with a frustrated huff. "Look, just- please call him or better yet go see him. I've never expected much from you, but you have to see him again. Please."

This was the only thing she's really asked for from you.

You called him when you got home, heavily apologizing because it was most possibly the best sex of your life if you were being completely honest. And he deserved an explanation on why you'd left without giving him your number. "It wasn't anything you did, really. I'm just kinda a shitty person. I'm really sorry. . . I should've been more empathetic. I remember when I lost my virginity-"

"Oh god. Th-that's not the reason why I wanted your number. I didn't just want to screw you. I. . ." You listen to him gulp. Jacob takes a deep breath. On the other end, unbeknownst to you, was Jacob pacing back and forth at a rest stop near where your city was in. He'd never meant for it to sound like he was tattling to Bella and butt-hurt. All he asked was for your number before she countered demanding a reason why. He was completely honest with her. She blew up at him over the phone to the point he had to hold his cellphone at arm's length. Bella hung up immediately once she was done. Probably to call you. Apparently she hadn't told you about the whole wolves and imprinting thing.

Using what scent was left on his shirt, he'd strapped his shorts and shirt to his leg and shifted to his wolf to track you down. It may have been extreme, but by the time he'd gotten Bella to answer her phone he was already at his wit's end. He knew he may have come off as a creep by doing this. This was an itch he desperately needed to satisfy. The wolf in him demands to know where you'd gone.

He couldn't say that to you. That would make him sound downright demented.

"I would just really like to know you. For real. Not just your favorite color or food. I want to know that too, but I want to really know you." God did he sound lame? Jacob thought what he just said was totally lame.

"You sure? You may not like what you find." There's a hint of sadness.

"I'm positive."

Setting up another date, you put down your phone with a tender smile. Maybe. . . Maybe this wouldn't be like all the other times. He sounded sincere. And no one else has gone to the trouble of getting your number from anyone.

You just hope you weren't making a big mistake.

Grabbing your cigarette and lighter, you head outside onto your small porch.

You put it between your lips while your thumb fumbles with the lighter's sparkwheel. A crunching sound a few feet away from you makes you pause. The cigarette falls from your lips as you stare into large brown eyes stare at you from a break of trees. Russet fur was highlighted by the street light that was near. You didn't think wolves were capable of growing to such a size. This thing was gargantuan.

There's not an air of danger around it. The wolf merely wags it's tail, snout shaping into what you could only describe as a grin before it pads back off into the night.

You smile to yourself. "Wow."

It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.

Perhaps a good omen.

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glossglamour · 28 days

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Full Robert Sean Leonard 'House'-a-palooza Interview: "As we know, I’m straight, but yeah, it’s like, homina homina homina."

May 01 2006 | By Maureen Ryan

Do you watch the show much?

"I can't watch it. I mean, Hugh doesn't watch it because he's anal and … eight years old. [laughs] And by the way, I don’t buy it, I think he does watch it.

“I watched in the first year. We live in New York and [my fiancé] was in California] and she likes it because I’m on it. But then she left, she had to come back to New York, and what are you going to do? The idea of me watching myself on TV, alone in Santa Monica, was just about... just short of, like, a bottle of Maker’s Mark and a shotgun away from shooting myself. [much laughter] So I haven’t watched it all season. But when I have watched it, I’ve been mildly confused and Hugh is appropriately grumpy."

I have this theory that a lot of my favorite shows aren’t even about what they’re supposed to be about -- they have to be set in a hospital or police station or outer space or whatever because the network can market that, but they’re secretly not even about that. Like, “House” is really about ethics and morality.

“Yeah, sure, I think that’s true.”

But you can’t pitch that show to the network. “Hey, we have this great show that examines personal morality!"

“‘It’s based on “A View from the Bridge.”’

Right! They’re really going to for that.

“Yeah. [laughs] I think it’s good, and when it’s right, when the show works, the mystery works. It has a Sherlock Holmes-ian feel to it, and you do kind of want to know what’s wrong with [the patients]. And it is interesting, the turns and twists that get you there. And there’s always a little bit of character-driven fun stuff in between, of who these people are and how they affect each other. And that’s it at its best. And I guess that could be true of any show.

“It’s tricky, you’ve got a lead character [who’s different from the TV norm] and you’ve got to be careful because those characters can be one-note. He’s the cranky guy, he’s the Australian guy, I’m the friend in one or two scenes a week. You just have to be careful, and I think we are, we have a really great team of writers. And the numbers are building, people are watching.”

So this two-parter on May 2 and 3, I think the unofficial subtitle is the “Festival of Foreman.” I guess they’re his Emmy episodes, and that’s fine. But you’re hardly in them, what’s up with that?

“Honestly, I’m okay. I don’t want an Emmy. This is what I want -- I know exactly what I want. I did play with a guy named Skip Sudduth, ‘The Iceman Cometh,’ seven years ago. I saw him five years later, and I said, ‘Geez, Skip, where have you been? I don’t see you at readings anymore.’ He said, ‘I’ve been on “Third Watch.”’ It sounded familiar but I’d never seen it. He said, ‘I’ve been doing it for five years.’ I said, ‘Holy crap!’ And he was back doing theater. That’s my dream.

“And it’s happening. I walk down the street and people say, ‘Where are you?’ and I say, ‘I’m on this show called “House.”’ My friend Lewis Black [from 'The Daily Show'] said, ‘What is it called? “Head”?’

“I’m okay. I’ve never been happier than where my career is now. And I don’t want it to change necessarily. Money’s good, and I’m glad I’m getting that, and I’m putting it away for later in life when I do more Tom Stoppard plays at Lincoln Center and make no money. But really, I’m great. I don’t mind working two days a week.

“Because those other guys, the Scooby gang, or the Mod Squad -- they are at that studio for 16 hours a day saying ‘tachycardia, lupus, blablahdeblah.’ Honestly, I’d kill myself if had to do those scenes for that long. I’m very happy with the size of my role, I don’t want it to get any bigger. I’m happy.”

So we won’t see the very special “House” episode where Dr. Wilson almost dies?

“That might be how I get off the show.” [laughs]

Well, you could die and come back as a ghost. Then it would be the “House Whisperer.”

“Yeah [laughs]. The hair makeup people were saying one day, ‘Oh, I love those scenes with you and Hugh, there should be more of that.’ And I’m like, ‘Shhh! Don’t say that!’ I’m the luckiest man in Hollywood. I work only with Hugh, pretty much, who’s great. And I work two days a week.”

Do you fly back and forth to New York then?

"No, not really. They don’t let me because they need me around, the schedule changes so much. I’m going to try to get away with that a little more [in the upcoming season]. Now that [my fiancé] is here, I really will kill myself if I’m out there as much as I was last year, without her.”

So five days a week you’re doing what – Botox injections? Going to the mall? Watching “Maury”?

“Rob Lowe once said the secret to being an actor in L.A. is sleeping as late as you possibly can and going to be as early as possible. I remember him saying, ‘I recommend pajamas by 4:30 p.m.’”

What’s interesting about this show is that they’re taken something that could be a very formulaic procedural and quite often turn it on its head.

“I didn’t know anything about TV, I’d never done [a TV show], but I now know very well that there are procedurals and character-driven shows. ‘Law & Order’ is a procedural and ‘Grey’s Anatomy’ is a character-driven show. The test [as to which category a show is in], someone once said to me, which I thought was hysterical, is this question: Did Sam Waterston sleep with [the assistant DA] on ‘Law & Order’? If the answer is ‘I don’t give a [hoot], I want to know the next element of the case,’ then it’s a procedural.

“Our show is weirdly, and there must be precedent for this, but it’s weirdly equally both. I think it’s very much a procedural, and without that sick patient every week, we wouldn’t work. And without the character stuff it wouldn’t work. And weirdly, people do care if House sleeps with one of our characters, and also care equally what’s wrong with this person and how they’re going to solve the case.”

I guess I like the character stuff better, but you’re right, it probably wouldn’t work without the suspense of the weekly case and somebody being critically ill.

“No, I think you need that. I think the echoes of Sherlock Holmes are too strong. The original idea of the show was House and Wilson, like Holmes and Watson. But it got away from that, and his team is Watson, if you want to be technical about it.

“I’m more like … the only way I’ve found to define it, and it’s so pretentious that it makes me want to jump out a window, is like King Lear’s fool. I’m like the only one who tells him the truth. And [Wilson] has nothing to lose. I don’t work for him and he doesn’t work for me. I’m the only character who chooses to be with him as opposed to being there because of a job. And because of that I have the freedom to tell him what I think. Not that Cuddy holds back much.”

I think her role is to say, "No! Bad House!"

“Have you talked to Lisa Edelstein [who plays Cuddy]? She’s so great. This Japanese woman once said to her, ‘You on “ER”!’ And she said, ‘I have been on “ER,” but now I’m on “House.”’ And [the woman says] ‘Oh yes, “House.” You say, “No, you don’t!”’ Every time we do the table read, I burst into laughter at some point, because there is the voice of that woman in my head, ‘You say “No, you don’t!”’ That’s the entire definition of Lisa’s character. Not completely, but we laugh [about it]. We have the same dilemma. We’re on this show that we’re … kind of on. Crew members say, ‘How long have you been on the show?’ ‘Uh, since the pilot.’ They really don’t know what we’re doing there.”

So in terms of the other stuff going on in your career, that’s going well, all the theater stuff?

“I’ve achieved everything I wanted to do. When I was growing up, I wanted to be Kevin Kline, Sam Waterston. I grew up watching the Public Theater and Shakespeare in the park and Marion Seldes. I mean, I may as well be gay.”

I’m not entirely sure you’re not.

[laughs] “But the thing is, I got it [i.e. his goals]. I’ve done 14 Broadway shows and got a Tony award, and now I’m making money and no one even really knows. I’m getting away with murder. If I come back to New York in two years and nothing’s changed, I’ll be thrilled. All I really want to do is [act in] plays, play with my dog, have kids. My desires are pretty simple. I don’t really want to do movies anymore. I’m pretty tired of camera acting.”

Why are you tired of camera acting? Is it the repetition of it?

“No, no, quite the opposite. We don’t rehearse enough. We do scenes where people barely know their lines, where people just about know their lines. In theater, you do it so many times and you get so familiar that then you can actually start having fun with it. And I really miss that feeling.

“It’s true of films too. I don’t know. I think I’m fine on film, but … I have walked offstage and thought, ‘Wow, no one has done that better. People may have done it as well, but not better.' I’ve actually had that feeling after ‘Long Day’s Journey Into Night,’ or a Shaw play or whatever. I’ve never felt that way with film. I always feel like, ‘Boy, Donald Sutherland would have done that a lot better.’ [laughs] I just don’t think it’s what I do best. I think I’m fine, but there are people who are eerily good at it. In all humility, of which I have none [laughs], that’s how I feel about my work on stage. I really do feel that I’m gifted at it.”

Just to change gears completely, what happens in the finale?

“Well, I think the finale is a bit of a cliffhanger. Something very exciting happens. It’s extremely exciting and freaky and I think it’s great. I can’t say what it is. You end this season very curious about how the next season is going to start. It’s a great final show and a big cliffhanger.”

So it seems like Hugh Laurie is so disparaging of his own talents. But he’s so good as House.

“Some people ask me, ‘Oh, why does Wilson want to hang out with House so much?’ and I’m like, ‘You idiot.’ [laughs] House is designed to be attractive! He’s brilliant, he’s self-deprecating, he has a limp. But yeah, Hugh hates himself and he’s very funny about it. There’s no better combination in my book. Like Lewis Black.”

But as an acting partner, he’s good to work with?

“Oh yeah. The thing is, with this part, Hugh has a huge obstacle he has to deal with, having an American accent. His problem isn’t our problem. We as the audience don’t have that problem, because what he doesn’t know is that he does it perfectly. But of course he doesn’t hear that. That’s why he can’t watch the show.

“When you’re doing an accent, you don’t feel like you’re interesting in the role. Even if everyone around is telling you that you are. And to be in a play is one thing, but to be on TV show that runs for years, I don’t know how he’s going to do it. To be that hard on yourself and be that disappointed in your own work. But as I said, and underline this four times, he’s wrong.”

And then he obviously hates when anyone calls him a sex symbol. You read his quotes when people ask him about that stuff and you can feel the embarrassment rising off the page.

“Yeah, he hates that stuff. And even more than the ‘sexy’ stuff, he hates the ‘you’re brilliant’ stuff. Of course there’s a part of him that likes him, there’s a part of all of us that likes that. [But him being hard on his performance], it’s not false vanity.

“I think Hugh does work he’s proud of and does work he thinks is good, I’m just not sure it’ll ever be this [show]. Having an accent… acting is letting go and forgetting yourself, it’s the opposite of ego. It’s flying away and getting away from yourself and forgetting. And when you’re doing an accent, it’s virtually impossible to do that.

“It’s hard when you're in a play, doing the same lines, the same way for eight months. Hugh learns 72 new lines a day and has to put an American accent on them. It really is an actor’s nightmare. I’ve done [with accents] Brian Friel plays, Martin Sherman plays, Tom Stoppard plays, and maybe five months into it you have a night where you kind of feel OK and kind of forget the accent and let go and let the scene happen. To have a strange accent in your mouth while playing a role, and then be judged for it, that’s hard stuff.

“And can I tell you, when you have dinner with Hugh Laurie [speaking in his real accent]… I miss that voice.”

Yeah. He called me once directly for an interview. I was expecting the publicist to put him through, but it was just that voice on the phone. I was sort of thrown for a minute.

“As we know, I’m straight, but yeah, it’s like, homina homina homina.” [laughs]

---- [source (part 2)] | part 1 | part 3 ---

it took me two hours to track this interview down. it might be the longest one he's ever done. first i tracked it down to tumblr pages posting about it with no source please stop doing that. then i found a short youtube video of laurie saying "homina homina" on an snl skit i think and someone in the comments mentioned the site where the rsl interview was posted. however the site wouldn't let me in, i guess they took it down so i headed to archive dot org. i didn't have a specific link though so that didn't really work out either. then for nearly an hour i tried a wide range of word combinations on google until i stumbled upon a livejournal page of rpf hugh laurie/rsl fanfic. SOMEONE tysm karaokegal posted the exact link i was looking for in the comments. quick trip to the wayback machine and here you go!

i should be on those ethical hacking competition things

#house md #hatecrimes md #gg.txt #robert sean leonard #rsl #interview #source hunting success #hugh laurie #james wilson #gregory house #i nearly went insane #trying to find this thing #part 3 is an interview w katie jacobs #part 1 is general quotes #muted

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bunniekittiee · 7 months

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Bi-Han’s s/o’s relationship with his brothers

I have decided to bless the Lin Kuei brothers fans and give you both the headcanons along with the fic (coming soon hehe). This is for being v supportive and very welcoming! I appreciate it all.

When you came into Bi-Han’s life, they were extremely grateful that you have begun to change him.

He was very cold (haha sub zero joke) towards his brothers and could be standoffish.

But once you and Bi-Han began your relationship, they were at ease that he was slowly changing.

Kuai Liang and Tomas think you are amazing, especially for changing Bi-Han’s demeanor.

All three of you like to enjoy tea together when Bi-Han is busy with his duties. They make sure to keep you busy if they are not busy themselves.

During tea time, they talk about quests they have went on with Bi-Han and even childhood memories.

Yes they tell you the embarrassing ones.

No please do not tell the Grandmaster, he will lose his mind.

And probably beat the living crap out of them.

Anyways, you all have good laughs during tea time and it is a way of unwinding for them.

Bi-Han may not have a craving for sweets, but his brothers sure do!

If you are skilled at baking, they are silently waiting for you to make them treats.

They don’t care what it is, they will eat anything.

The first time you make them sweets, it is during the Mid-Autumn Festival, and you decided to try moon cakes.

By the Gods, they absolutely devoured all of them.

Bi-Han watched in amusement as they stuffed their mouths with your sweets. He felt his heart swell at the fact that you could take care of his brothers.

He remembered that and kept that in his mind if anything were to happen to him, he knew that you would take care of his brothers.

Sometimes, you like to give them treats during their breaks, and they get so excited.

Kuai Liang enjoys doing yoga with you as it gives you both some bonding time one-on-one.

Yoga helps loosen his muscles and clear his mind, along with meditation, and having another person there enjoying it makes him feel good.

As I mentioned in my other headcanons, Bi-Han is not jealous of his brothers spending time with his s/o.

He has to deeply trust his siblings on missions and in battle, so he absolutely trusts them with you.

Plus he understands that it can be difficult to be cooped up for long periods of time as he is busy and doesn’t always have the time to take you out.

So his brothers will do it for him!

Dinners at Madame Bo’s is usually paid for by Tomas and they are fun.

Sometimes, Raiden and Kung Lao will join you.

Kuai Liang will bring along Harumi as well!

You and Harumi are definitely close as she is like a sister in a way. You are only surrounded by men for the most part, so having another woman is like a breath of fresh air.

Kuai is very happy that you and Harumi are good friends.

Sometimes on the dinner dates, you wish Bi-Han was there, even if he had a scowl on his face.

You missed your husband very much no matter what. There was nothing that could change that.

When you and Tomas were venturing into the forest, you both found a tiny ocelot kitten.

With no mother in sight, Tomas gently picked it up and you both exchanged the look.

“We have to keep it.” you both said at the same time.

Bi-Han was not overjoyed that you had found this kitten. He thought of it as a distraction and that you both were messing with natural selection.

After a lot of pleading and promises, he reluctantly let you keep it.

You and Tomas immediately ran to show Kuai Liang who grinned at the sight of this tiny kitten.

Just like that, this ocelot became the family pet.

As much as Bi-Han may have been against it, he did think the little ocelot was cute.

Bi-Han got to name her since it was a part of the agreement they made, so he named her Jia.

Jia was well behaved due to Bi-Han’s discipline and she was a great addition to the family.

Bi-Han is happy to know that you are close with his brothers. It makes him feel at ease knowing that you get the breaks you need from the snowy terrain and you don’t go out alone.

He’s an overthinker, so even if he knows that you are all safe, he will still think the worst.

When you married Bi-Han, you married the clan and partially his brothers as they will be with him for most of your lives.

If you had not taken a liking to his brothers, Bi-Han would not know what to do at all.

But since you are all close, he is relieved.

#mk1 2023 #mk1 #mortal kombat x reader #mortal kombat #mk bi han #mk kuai liang #mk tomas vrbada #mk sub zero #mk smoke #mk scorpion #bi han #kuai liang #tomas vrbada #bi han headcanon #lin kuei headcanon #lin kuei

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ronearoundblindly · 2 months

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Hideout (3.1)

touch-starved!Nomad Steve Rogers x motel employee!Reader

Sensitive Boy, part I (see previous or series)

Summary: Steve surprises you with help at the perfect time.

Warnings for light smut (I have to split this chapter or it's just suddenly twice as long as the last, but really there's just massage and an implied orgasm in this half. You know me: too many feels and too much development...) MINORS DNI. This series is 18+ only. If you are underage or simply enjoy lighter content, there is plenty for you to read on my Light Masterlist, but this post is not for you! WC 3.2k

With so much on your mind, scaring the crap out of you is not difficult, so his strong hands hold you upright.

“Don’t do that,” you shriek, barely glancing at Steve’s face. You startled so suddenly your housekeeping cart is left rolling away at a snail’s pace.

“Sorry, I—“ long arms abandon you and reach to stop the bin “—it said on your website you were closed for renovations, and…”

You look him up and down. You were sure after he left two months ago that you’d never see him again. You’d gone too far. You’d pushed him too hard. He wasn’t ready.

Steve adjusts the strap over his shoulder. “I thought maybe I could help out…if you want?”

The last guests checked out a half-hour ago, and you readied to spend the whole week meticulously refreshing each room with your parents. The list of what needs done, however, doesn’t only include the motel. There’s a bunch you all had let slide up at the house. Help would…be extremely helpful actually.

Steve pulls a paper bag out of his knapsack. “Or I brought you some lunch if you just want a break or something.”

“It’s okay,” you rush out. “More than okay. Thank you, yes. We’d love—I’d love that.”

No one else can know it’s him-him there though. You’ll have to think of a way to keep your parents and St-‘Grant’ as far apart as possible, and how long you can manage that is…questionable.

If Steve’s not worried though, you’re okay.

Turns out, keeping your family up at the house is easy. Your mom shouts down the phone with relief that she can tackle the fridge, and you hear your dad mumble something about ‘the garage in daylight.’ You can enjoy a sandwich in the office with Steve in peace, explaining what all needs done before the electricians show up Friday afternoon.

The closure hasn’t been planned for a long time—not even before Steve and ‘Tom’s’ last visit—hence why you just painted Room 8, 5, 2, and 1 since March, but doing all those is how you and your parents really noticed that the light fixtures from the ‘90s were not only dated but very worn and that the same color layered over and over again for twenty years was, well, getting old.

Warmer months are better for the work. Pipes won’t freeze while you air out paint fumes, etc. The week after the gigantic, city festivities of Independence Day is notoriously dead. Since there were no reservations this stretch as of April, the family jumped at the chance to fix it all in one big, daunting go.

Saying you’d looked forward to this is a wild overstatement. You’ll be glad when it’s finished, and that’s the bulk of your excitement.

With his assistance though? Hope soars.

Steve will help you take down the sconces, the hanging lamps, and the panels above the vanities, then you both can—

“Where’s the paint?”

He’s very intense with the gameplan. Three guesses why.

“Dad’s gonna pick it up today. Probably. I’ll text him.” You whip out your cell again. “We didn’t think we’d get that far by evening.”

Steve nods.

“We also need to move all the furniture away from the walls and drape plastic to protect the carpet. Oh, and put tape along the trim and doorframes, ya know.”

Steve nods again. He wads up the wrapping from his sandwich and casually asks, “are all the doors open?”

You only just get your finger in the air to point at the desk.

“Master key is—“

But Steve is observant and has clocked everything about his surroundings each time he’s stayed, apparently. He stretches over to the wall beyond the counter, snatches the (correct) unmarked key, and heads out the door.

The service bell rings gently to emphasize the conversation is over.

All furniture in every room is pulled away by the time you finish sanitizing the one guest room he interrupted.

He asks where you keep the ladder, not that he’ll need it, but you will for reaching some of the lights.

You don’t know whether to be in awe of or exhausted by his efficiency.

He’s rigid and militant—go figure—until these few moments he suddenly can’t be.

As you toss plastic over the last bed to move, Steve yanks that sucker across the floor so fast, you roll off. His eyes are saucers as he apologizes, but you get the giggles and pick yourself up.

His fingers can’t separate thin layers of the plastic at one point, and he throws a minor fit until three rip apart together. Steve frowns at you and grumbles that he’s only ever used cloth for this before. It seems to take everything in his power not to say “back in my day,” but you can read between the lines.

Years of crusted paint makes the removal of some fixtures tricky.

Steve rips out one stripped screw with needle nose pliers, squeaks in alarm at the hole left behind, and then quietly asks if you have patch paste.

You call your dad before he’s left to buy paint. He adds spackling to the list.

The closest Steve comes to telling you anything specifically about himself is when you struggle with a stuck bolt.

“Just a little trick I learned when I was—“ Steve wraps his big hand around yours to pull the wrench instead of push from the other direction “—smaller.” He huffs out a laugh, adding, “when I couldn’t, ya know, ‘put my weight into it’ because a feather could’a knocked me over.”

As you relish the simple contact of his fingers, you smile, too.

“Hmm. I heard you got into back alley scrapes.”

“If you heard that I won any of those, you were lied to.” He patiently waits for you to finish removing the bolt before he pries the aged metal and glass away from the old paint it’s stuck in. Steve sighs dramatically.

“Shoddy education these days…”

“I…” You tap his bicep with the claws of the wrench. “I can’t argue with that. We hear only what they tell us about…heroes.”

You should have known he’d shut down at that word, but it’s the truth. Even with him right in front of you, the only things you know about Steve Rogers are from books, newspapers, and the internet. At face value—looking directly into the face of this man—all of what you’ve been told is hogwash. It’s insufficient. It barely covers 1% of who this man is.

He teaches you tricks of the weak man’s trade because it helped him once, too. Today, he’s friendly. Not that he was unfriendly before, but Steve is so reserved he never reference the past, in general, i.e. that there was a past existence of like the planet much less him.

It’s the number one rule of Fight Club: you don’t talk about Fight Club.

If there was ever a real fight club, it’s the Avengers.

You have no official rules for what this is between you. You don’t have to to know that is the most important one. You do not talk about Fight Club. Steve isn’t afraid of silence, that much is clear, but he isn’t a fan. He tries—he is trying—to connect and relate. He can’t be a man of the people, however, if he can’t talk to the people.

It’s important: connection. You know with every fiber of your being that Steve deserves it, but even with unlimited, super-human strength, he cannot get himself out from between this rock and that hard place.

You do not talk about Fight Club, especially when you’ve been kicked out of Fight Club.

Today, though, he’s a little different, a little softer. Perhaps it’s knowing there are no other people in the building, perhaps he is truly more comfortable with you, but either way, Steve is not flat or off-putting.

His organized persona, his focus on the work, his indirect interactions and practical touch; they all fit here while he has a project. It’s the closest he can be to his old self, maybe even his real self, without mentioning the past—the fighting past—at all.

“You’re really good company,” you tell Steve, “even when you make holes in the walls.”

He tilts his head down and blushes. He shrugs as he takes the sconce out to the dumpster. Although he didn’t say it, you hope this is okay.

Either way, you relish it. The help. The touch. The silence. All of it.

You relish Steve.

Your dad brings by the paint, spackling, and a surprise of pizza for dinner while Steve is taping the baseboards in a corner. You introduce ‘Grant’ from afar and haul the cans and boxes from the car to the room, cataloguing all you two have finished to this point and what you’ll do before stopping for the night.

Dad is impressed. He’d suspected the three of you—you, he, and Mom, that is—might settle for slapping some paint up around where the electrician would install the new lights. No one planned on getting this far in one evening.

He won’t stand in the way of progress, so your dad simply calls out, “bit of an artist, are ya?”

Steve looks up, confident with only the side table lamps plugged in, he can barely be seen. “Just want to be useful,” he mutters.

You wink at your dad as he heads back to the still-running car. “Grant is a jack of all trades.”

You’re sure to thank him for the food and let him know all the motel stuff is completely covered for tomorrow, too. You’ll work as late as you can and start as early as possible.

Dad says your friend has gone ‘above and beyond.’ You agree wholeheartedly.

‘Grant’ would more aptly be described as a machine.

All the furniture moved, all the lights taken down, all bordering taped, and now all blemishes in the walls smoothed, your impromptu contractor finally calls it quits when he’s forced to watch stuff dry.

You’ve kept the air conditioning going in one room.

Steve tentatively asks if he should walk you up to the house, but you counter with “it’s not any less dangerous for an average guy alone to return” and a cheeky smirk. Besides, it is very late. You let Captain OCD keep going; you tapped out a while ago.

He puts his hands on his hips, arms akimbo, thinking of a comeback that never manifests. After giving up, Steve takes his tiny bag into the bathroom and brushes his teeth.

You can faintly hear it over the murmur of the TV.

You aren’t really watching. It’s background noise to your general exhaustion.

With only a side lamp and the screen as light, Steve’s bare feet crumple over the discarded plastic sheet on the floor. He falls into one side of the bed, fully-clothed and (finally) tired.

Though productive, the day has been a distant one, working in different rooms for most of it and tiptoeing around real conversation. You want him to feel appreciated, not pressured, so you ask if he’d like the TV on for a while or would rather quiet.

Steve just grunts with his eyes closed.

Gently, you place a hand on his chest to steady you, leaning to kiss his bearded cheek.

“Thank you, Steve,” you say softly. “Good night.”

He hums when you say his name, and before you can lift your hand away, he captures it under his, holding you in place.

His eyes aren’t open. He can’t see you smile wider.

“Okay.” You tuck yourself into his chest as he raises his other arm out of the way. “Okay.”

Your ear sits in the dip beneath his collarbone, listening to his steady heart, his thumb sweeping back and forth over you knuckles.

He smushes you closer to his side. You toss your leg over his.

You forget to turn off the TV.

He’s sanding the spackled spots by the time you wake, so you rub across his back and dismiss yourself to get breakfast up at the house.

Steve makes no effort to go with, which is fine. You assumed as much.

Your dad calls Grant a ‘magician’ over the pop of oil in the skillet and insists you give your friend whatever he needs to keep working so fast. You are only half-joking when you admit the key is staying out of his way.

Bonus: the exchange reinforces your parents simply leaving the two of you alone down the hill, and you proudly tell Steve that when delivering him an enormous plate of scrambled eggs.

He jumps right back into planning-mode and orders you to roll the first coat of paint onto large areas. He’ll follow, completing the edges and corners.

It’s such a domestic thing to do. There is no one in danger, there are no bodies piling up if he makes a wrong move, and he can go faster or take his sweet time. Steve breaks when he wants or needs to. He sits outside and listens to the birds in the sunshine. No one is around to question him, not even you. You are only there to encourage.

You realize he was looking for a project. He’s used to—and likes—being busy, getting his hands dirty, producing results.

It’s a long, messy day where he becomes more serene in spirit the more intensely he works. You reward him with gentle sweeps of your hand down his arms, pats on his shoulders, and brushes at the small of his back.

Despite the almost constant movement, the day is over before you know it, earlier than yesterday, but it’s too hot to go on.

All the windows stay open to air out the fumes.

Though it won’t stop you from sweating, you both shower off as many splatters and flecks of paint as you can. You insist he goes first so there’s plenty of hot water.

He’s sitting on the bed, shirtless, checking his phone when you come out of the bathroom, but he immediately squirrel the device away in his small bag. Not much to carry around. Not much to leave behind. Steve can’t leave a trace of himself anywhere.

Hunched over and fatigued, he flashes a polite smile your way and blinks heavily.

He deserves the world.

You grab the small bottle of lotion from the countertop and playfully jump onto the bed behind him.

“How about a massage, yeah? You much be aching.”

Honestly, you don’t mean for it to sound sexual, but the phrase comes out downright dirty, making Steve awkwardly chuckle.

“You don’t have to,” he placates.

“Nonsense, I want to. It’ll make the air feel cooler.” That’s as good of an excuse as any. Who cares when the rippled expanse of his back flexes wildly in your touch?

His breathes are audible from the beginning.

You dig at his traps, his leg bouncing as he tries to relax. You use your thumbs, the flats of your hands, and your knuckles.

He shoves his fist in his mouth when he starts to moan, covering the move with a cough, but muffling the noise is abandoned in favor of clasping over his lap. He’s intent on hiding his hardness this time. There’s nothing you can say to truly lessen the sting of needing more. You can’t simply tell him he’s allowed to desire this; you have to ignore his misplaced shame.

But you can take pity on him.

“If you lie flat—“ you step off the bed to give him privacy “—I’ll have more leverage.”

You hear him crawl and adjust on the sheets. “Unlike the torque on a wrench,” you add, just to show you’ve been listening to him.

More lotion is needed for the surface area.

You turn up the TV, feining interest in the late night show so any noise he makes is not as obvious. What the speakers can’t cover, however, is Steve’s involuntary thrusts when you rub the heels of you palms up and down the sides of his spine. If you prop up on your knees, he has more range of motion and doesn’t obviously rock you while mindlessly humping the bed.

His sweats are slung low on his hips, two darts of muscle prominent above his ass.

They are irresistible, the perfect grooves to target and roll into, and he immediately mewls long and deep into the mattress, fingers curling and relaxing while his body seizes.

He hasn’t even finished coming, you think, before he taps at your leg and races to the bathroom.

You hope you didn’t push too far. You hope he’d tell you to stop if he needs more space, more time. Mostly, you hope he knows you’d give him every conceivable pleasure, just because he is him.

The water runs a long time, continuous splashing in the sink, and then nothing.

He didn’t bring much because he doesn’t have much. Your heart sinks, realizing you’ve made him soil one of only two pairs of pants he has here.

He cracks open the door, muttering, but you can’t make out the words.

You turn the volume back down. “What?”

“It pretty hot.” He clears his throat. “Would you mind if I sleep…without…?”

“Naked?” you squeak before composing yourself. “That’s fine. Whatever’s comfortable.”

You shuffle up the bed to click off the lamps. This man isn’t the type to strut around in the nude—yet, anyway—so in the faint and ever-shifting glow of the screen across the room very little can be seen.

‘Little,’ however, can’t describe anything that is visible about the man emerging from the bathroom.

You have to make a point not to stare, but no skit or commercial on the channel promises the same level of entertainment.

Steve slides himself beneath the sheet, sitting near the headboard.

You hold up the remote. “On or off?”

“Off,” he says, “please.”

You’ve certainly done enough for one day. You won’t push your luck, so you hit the power button, toss it on table, and snuggle into your half of the bed, facing away.

“If it’s too hot for any covers, that’s okay, too.”

A rustling interrupts the rhythmic whir of crickets in the night until you feel a warm hand lightly mold to your waist.

This should be encouraged. This should be rewarded.

“Hey, Stevie,” you whisper, waiting for his hum, “happy belated birthday.”

At most you expect a grip of notice, but instead, the big hand snakes across you and hauls you into his chest, his long legs bending to match the crook of yours, his nose and forehead tucked against your occipital.

“We did okay today,” Steve mumbles into your shirt.

You walk your hand over your stomach to find his, lacing the fingers together. “Yes. Yes, we did.”

Steve got to be useful today. He had a partner today. He will tomorrow and the day after, for as long as he stays, for as long as you’re alive. Nothing can change that.

Maybe he can’t talk about Fight Club, but he connects with you anyway.

A/N: Whoopsy. Didn't want to make y'all wait for a 6k+ chapter, so here's the first half! I am DEEP in the feels of this one. So, so many notes have been taken. The brainrot is real, and I fucking love it!!!!

[Next: Sensitive Boy, part II]

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daisiesonafield-blog · 2 years

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It’s easy to think every single thing is part of a conspiracy but it’s not usually true. Olivia and Harry are a big tabloid target now, so all the tabloids are going to be coming up with their own angle to get clicks. Every single celeb couple regularly has engagement rumours. US started it and then the even lower level tabloids piled on. DM obviously checked if Harry was confirmed to attend and when he wasn’t, they ran with it. If he doesn’t go, he will look like a dickhead though. He’ll look like he’s abandoning Olivia and also the project. Is she going to sit at the press conference by herself? Just her and Chris? Can’t see the studio loving that. And I feel badly for the crew who worked hard on the project only for its director (and Harry) to make it look asinine.

Hi dear,

Yeah that's pretty much what I meant when I said it's all promo and promo is all lies.

It's clear they're trying to handle this bc they would've been absolutely insufferable with holivia and Olivia inserting herself in every single press piece. But now they've pulled back due to the backlash, and she's not playing the leading role of 'Harry Styles' adoring girlfriend who watches her bf every night on tour' - you know every Harry fan's dream! Anyways, I digress. What I mean is, she would've been on tour with him and doing pap walks, and they would've released even more interviews and articles about her/him/dwd had it not been for the RS backlash. So they're "laying low" until the controversy blows over.

But the point of my post and what I said was pretty much that this is all just bs drama to drum up more press and interest in her and DWD. Ofc some of it is just trashy tabloids jumping on the 'hot topic of the moment', but a lot of it is also what they've pushed to go ahead. Haven't you noticed how in all of this drama there has been very little targeted towards Harry? Nothing about him "cheating with Olivia". They mention it, sure, but they're not making it into a scene. Tabloids would love to use any and all scandals for their own profit, and yet they're not using this. This would make it even more dramatic. And there's no mention of Harry's situation or anything in regards to the drama. Just a ton for Florence, Olivia and Shia. That's in part bc Harry hasn't commented, but also bc they have a tight grip on the narratives they let out there. Harry's image is that of a sweetheart so they can't very well have endless tabloids about him being an outright asshole. And they do control that.

I'm not sure about Daily Mail checking, bc The Hollywood Reporter actually said H was confirmed to attend. So like I said, they're just creating more drama so people tune in to the event and they get more clicks.

Once that's over they'll surely release a new wave of drama until the movie is out. Or use whatever dumb ass arguments come out of Olivia's mouth during her interviews.

I agree H would not look good if he pulled out of the festival last minute. I just worry what they'll do once there. Obviously everyone is expecting him and Olivia to have their big "red carpet couple debut". Hopefully this recent wave of backlash slashed those plans. They should not do that. They should absolutely not have them together and put H with Florence - who plays his character's wife. That's what would make the most sense. Now if Flo is actually backing out of press, then put him with Gemma and Olivia with Chris, bc isn't he her husband in the film? Or am I mixing it up? Whatever. The point is, any sane team would not want on set romances in their movie press tour. It's about the characters not the actors. Except Olivia has made damn well sure this movie is about Olivia Wilde and her life. "The Victory Project" de damned.

I don't even know where I'm going with this. Clearly I'm tired. In more ways than one.

All you get is me ranting.

Note: related to this

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thewritetofreespeech · 4 months

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New Years Kisses - Bleach

Ichigo

Spends New Year’s home with his family, like any typical teen with very typical traditions, and invites you to join. Or as typical as an evening with the Kurosaki’s can be.

He likes watching you make the soba with Yuzu and setting up the kotatsu with Karin. It’s like your part of the family.

All of you eat and watch New Year’s specials until midnight finally comes, and then head out for the shrine. Ichigo isn’t sure he believes much in prayer anymore, with everything he’s seen & been through, but the tradition is nice.

After you all make your offerings, Ichigo sneaks the two of you off behind the fortune stand to still a kiss. Since he couldn’t give you a kiss officially at midnight with his dad & sisters around, this will have to do.

Renji

There’s a pretty big party for the lieutenants & rowdier members of the Soul Society that Renji goes to, and he brings you as his date.

It’s a pretty normal party. For Soul Reapers anyway. A lot of drinking, eating, and then inevitable challenges of strength (especially when Ikkaku gets drunk).

Renji of course gets swept up in it, but a lot less than usual since joining the 6th and because you’re there.

When he wins, he gives you a big kiss as his reward. If he loses, he still wants a kiss to console him.

Shuhei

At the same party as Renji, but tries to be more civil and reserved.

The key word is ‘tries.

Being around Rangiku, whose favorite past times are drinking and getting other people to drink, Shuhei is quickly swayed into the mayhem, despite his best efforts.

Spends a lot of the evening lying on the back patio, convinced the fresh air will sober him up, and falls over the banister when he tries to give you a kiss at midnight. Turning your romantic NYE kiss into a ‘kiss his boo-boo’ kind of kiss.

Byakuya

New Year’s is a big time for the Kuchiki Clan. It’s one of the few mandatory events all the extended family is expected to attend at the main estate, with a lot of ceremonies and a lot of people.

Byakuya has no opinion on the festivities. Tradition is tradition, and as head of the clan it is his duty to preserve them.

He tries to make time with you 1-on-1 during the event, but it always seems to be some crisis or conversation that needs his attention. Or yours, as your very integral to all the moving cogs of this event as well.

Still, he manages to sneak both of you out to the garden with Shunpo. Stealing just one private moment for the two of you, and a soft kiss in the moonlight, before you both have to go back and be good hosts.

Grimmjow

Zero concept of what a ‘New Years’ is.

There are no new years in Huecho Mundo. Time is sort of an unchanging constant for creatures there, so there is no need to mark it with a calendar like humans do.

For that reasons, Grimmjow thinks it’s pretty dumb. But he goes along with it because, in your relationship, he’s learned that if he goes along with it he will usually get treats in the end.

He likes the idea of kissing though. Wants to just skip to that part and has no understanding on this waiting until midnight crap. He just wants to kiss now!

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gentrychild · 5 months

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Au where a bystander recorded and uploaded the Deku vs Overhaul fight and the villains are now even more terrified of him than they were of All Might

1 - After AFO being put in Tartarus and All Might's retirement, the criminal world was kinda holding its breath, trying to see which new player would come out of top. Of course, Shigaraki, as AFO's student, and Overhaul, with his neat anti quirk drug, were strong contenders but the green menace recorded for everyone to see made everyone realize that there was a new symbol around and while they do not agree on what kind of symbol he is, the criminal community of Japan does not want to mess with them.

2 - For some strange reason (fear, that's fear), most people at first assume that the one who wiped the floor with Overhaul was a villain. Fearing for Izuku's reputation, some well meaning hero says that no, that's a hero student, the bone breaking quirk from the Sport Festival.

3 - This Has Consequences.

4 - For the villains, the only thing they hear is "That is the kid who beat the crap out of Muscular with his bare hands". For the civilians and pro heroes, they hear "This is kid who went from breaking his own bones to breaking whole neighborhoods in barely a couple of month" and they are... not fearful but kinda wondering how this is possible, only to reach the only logical conclusion; this is All Might's secret lovechild.

5 - This leads both to the criminality dropping to 0 overnight and people kinda side-eying All Might for apparently discovering he had a kid only recently.

#5 headcanons game

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the-travelling-witch · 9 months

Text

𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐂 𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄

summary: after a quick stop by mostro lounge, you decide you can't leave octavinelle's students to their dreadful costume fate

pairing: jade leech x fashion savvy! reader

warnings: fluff/crack, a little suggestive at the end; just a small drabble to celebrate me getting jade's halloween ssr that appeared in my drafts before i knew what's going on

twisted wonderland masterlist

“And now, pray tell, what is this supposed to be?”

“We’re mummies,” Floyd eagerly grinned back at you when you entered Mostro Lounge. “Pretty neat, ain’t it, shrimpy?”

“I guessed as much from the form you submitted to the Halloween management committee.” You surveyed the warzone of torn white fabric the lounge had become and then zeroed in on the octotrio’s ‘costumes’, wondering in which world a mummy looked like a plucked chicken. “My actual question was, why do you look like toddlers who rolled around in a bunch of toilet paper?”

“Come again?” Azul tried to hide his shocked expression behind his hand as he adjusted his wired glasses.

“You’re well aware that mummies have a body shape too, right?” Walking up to Jade, you started inspecting the damage and what part of this fiasco was still savable, bunching fabric between your fingers and pulling at white clothing shreds. “Under different circumstances I’d be rather impressed that you managed to erase someone’s figure altogether but, with the festival in mind, I can’t let this pass. I can’t believe you put my boyfriend in this, Azul.”

“It’s truly tragic, pearl, isn’t it?” Jade played along, sighing tiredly as he raised one hand to cup your cheek. When your face was pressed into his chest, his palm cradling the back of your head, he threw a wicked grin Azul’s way. “To think that after all these years of knowing and supporting each other, you’d make us wear this when we’re expecting visitors from far and wide… I don’t want to linger on the thought.”

“Oh please, would you both quit being so dramatic?” Octavinelle’s housewarden rolled his eyes and massaged his temple before his shoulders sacked. “Alright fine, maybe the costumes weren’t our best work yet. Let’s hear your proposal then, Prefect.”

You hummed in contemplation as you studied the outfits again. “We can keep the striped shirts and the pants but we need decidedly more belts, a whole lot of them. And, if you know what’s good for you, then you'd better have untangled yourselves from the toilet paper looking crap by the time I’m back.”

“Wait, where are you going?” Azul asked as you were already halfway out of the dorm.

“I’m going to save Mostro Lounge!”

Upon your return, you were delighted to see the guys had followed your advice/ command and were waiting for you in only the long shirts and black trousers. When Jade saw you coming in, carrying a bunch of boxes filled with clothes and accessories, he quickly took them from you and set them down on the table next to them.

“Thank you,” you smiled up at him, to which your boyfriend pressed a quick kiss to your temple. His brother did not hide the gagging noise he made. “Okay, let’s get to work. Halloween’s already drawing close and we’ll still have to make adjustments to the costumes for sure.

“Here,” you said, digging through the cardboard boxes until you found the black shirts you’d been searching for. “Put these on. They should be roughly the right size.”

Turning around to let them change, you searched for the accessories you’d deemed the show-stealers. Brushing over leather, you hooked your fingers into the metal ring of a harness to hold it up. You really owed Pomefiore for this one.

“Oya, shrimpy, watcha have there?” Floyd’s amused lilt told you that he was pretty aware of what exactly it was. “You wanna catch yourself a fish? Or an eel, hmm?”

“I have to say, it is a pretty daring approach to a Halloween school costume,” Jade chimed in, one hand resting on his chin in contemplation but nonetheless smiling. “Not that I am opposed to it, of course.”

“Prefect, is this really necessary?” Azul shifted his weight from one foot to the other, looking at you but not quite into your eyes. “I mean I understand refining our apparel but this…”

“Azul, I’m making you marketable right now,” you said earnestly and with that, his azure eyes finally snapped to you. “Do you know how much potential profit is tied to this one little accessory? C’mon, try it on. You can still decide not to wear it afterwards. For now, just go with the flow.”

One by one, you helped them secure the straps around their torso, having Jade hold Floyd still enough to get it on him. You could see Azul fidgeting from the corner of your eye as you put the finishing touches on Jade’s harness, slipping two fingers underneath the straps to make sure it wasn’t too tight.

“Okay, let’s get the shirts back on, add some more belts, cut up the fabric and get this show on the road. I can basically see people banging down your doors already. I hope you can seat that many guests.” The last sentences were more so directed at Azul, in an effort for him to just let you do your thing. “I don’t have any sort of hat prepared because I frankly didn’t expect to save a dorm’s costume today but I’ll see what I can do.”

“My my, that does pose the question of where we’d be without you,” Jade chuckled affectionately.

“Out of business on Halloween, apparently,” you sighed theatrically. “Well then, chop chop guys, I want to see the entire thing.”

After they all pulled their striped shirts back on, you added more belts around their hips and waist to give the outfit more shape but didn’t tug the shirts in to mimic a mummy’s peeled off bandages. All in all, it wasn’t the most elaborate costume but it did the trick and if you could put some finishing touches on it throughout the week, you were confident the lounge would attract a fair share of customers.

“Alright, that’s it. You can go around and do some work or whatever just to get a feel for the clothes. Remember, you’ll have to wear them for the entirety of the festival, so I want to remove anything that might be uncomfortable beforehand. And Floyd, don’t drag those white sleeves through the dirt, got it? They should stay the colour they are now.” You sent the eel a warning glare and he held his hand up in defence, although the grin he didn’t bother to hide before he vanished to the Seven know where wasn’t reassuring.

Azul had apparently already slinked back into his office, leaving you standing alone in the lounge with your boyfriend, giving you ample time to admire your work again. Seeing Jade in something like this was certainly something you’d been very curious about, with good right as you learnt now; the black shirt highlighting his muscle and the leather holding your attention were leading your thoughts down a very different direction. Something he must have caught on to somehow.

“Do you like what you see, pearl?” He teased, his grin showing off his sharp teeth as he studied you with mischievous interest. Maybe it was your imagination but in the dimly lit lounge, his left eye seemed to glow. “I cannot help but wonder why you’d extend your gracious assistance to us without wanting anything in return, not that I am not grateful of course.

“Perhaps you merely wanted to seize your chance to put me into something like this?” He gestured towards the harness secured around his chest, his attentive gaze not flitting from your face for even a second. “You know you need only ask if you have any more… fantasies of this nature.”

“I— It’s nothing like that! You make me sound like some pervert,” you protested, although, to your embarrassment, he wasn’t completely wrong. But, seriously, who would pass up a situation like this? “Anyway, don’t you have anything to do? You’re usually busy around the clock.”

“Oh, I have something very important to do,” he grinned down at you, taking a step closer to you, to the point you had to take one back, until he could crowd you against the bar. Now that he had you right where he wanted you, his hands smoothed down the sides of your body until he could place his hands on the back of your thighs to effortlessly lift you onto the counter. It happened so fast, you let out a surprised yelp and braced yourself against his chest, to which he merely chuckled.

“And what would that work entail?” You questioned as you ran your fingers along the straps of the harness spanning his broad chest. Looking up you saw his attention already on you.

“Under normal circumstances it would require me to get out of these clothes. But, per your request, that is currently not possible.” Leaning into your personal space, his lips brushed over the delicate skin of your pulse point, his breath fanning over the base of your neck as he lowered his voice to a whispered husk. “I am fairly certain though, the same restrictions do not apply for your clothes, my precious pearl. I can definitely work with that.”

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