how many more saturday nights do we have left to run free?
I am drunk. I am drunk and writing porn for my BB story, because apparently I can only write porn tipsy or higher on the drunk scale. Prince Harry/Pippa Middleton forever, eh? HAPPY WEEKEND F-LIST. Have some drabbles for your trouble:
true blood. little lion man. tommy/jessica.
Sometimes, Tommy gets so mad - at Sam, at Jo Lee, at the cards the world has dealt him, that he can feel a creature itching at his skin. It stays there, pawing and clawing and pecking at everything he is until he changes lightning-quick or clenches his fists and calms down, until all he hears is the steady beating of his human heart.
Looking at Jessica with Hoyt stirs up that feeling. Hoyt stares at Jessica when she’s not looking. Tommy should know, he does it too. His skin itches and his heart burns and he rolls his around, slow and steady, on his spine to try and relieve the tension that’s coiled up in him like a snake. He’s never had a great track record with girls, but Jessica is something else. Blue eyes and pale skin and red hair and legs up to there. Legs worth fighting for, worth hitting someone solid in the face until his knuckles ache.
(“You’re an ass,” girls have said to him before. This is where he laughs, cruelly, as they pick up their clothes and try to leave as quick as possible.
“I’m a dog, actually,” he corrects.)
Jessica’s crying in the kitchen when he finds her. Lafayette’s lording over the grill, spatula raised and crazy eyes staring at Tommy.
“Get this bitch up outta my kitchen,” he drawls while flipping burgers. Tommy glares and half-wishes Lafayette’s purple glitter turban would catch on fire.
Jess wipes her eyes quickly, blood smeared underneath her eyes, and swears under her breath.
“Damn it, I’m fine, Tommy. Just - just leave me alone, okay?”
“You’re so much better than that guy.”
She looks up slowly, carefully almost, and when they finally make eye contact she crosses her arms and shrugs apologetically. They’re in the hallway now, tucked into a back corner, and Tommy can hear Arlene screeching about how hard her job is. Blow me, he thinks. She’s a bitch anyways.
He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he’s taken by surprise when Jessica leans in close and kisses him. Her lips are softer than he thought, and it’s only once he starts kissing back that she pulls away.
“Shit,” she gasps, hand over her mouth and pretty blue eyes big and wide. “Oh shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry Tommy, I have to-”
She brushes by him, hitting his shoulder on her way out and Tommy sees Hoyt leaving the restaurant with that Summer chick.
“Wait!” He yells it more than once, but she never turns around and after a couple times Lafayette screams at him.
Tommy throws a dishrag into the sink, hard, and runs out back.
The ground is hard and wet underneath his paws and for now, it gets rid of that horrible feeling and replaces it with something like peace.
hunger games. the secret lore of ocean. finnick/katniss.
There’s nothing in the world that can calm Finnick down like the sea.
(Maybe the sound of Annie’s voice, tripping its way into his ears or Jo’s grasp, firm and steady on his arm or even Katniss’ eyes, strong and fierce and everything he wanted her to be.)
He misses it like an amputated limb, like something that should still be there but all of a sudden you wake up and realize it isn’t. It’s late at night and the pool is a poor replacement.
The waters a sickening clear green, lit up from underneath with bright lights and it doesn’t look anything like his ocean. Chlorine, the smell and taste of it, drift into his nose, eyes, mouth every possible sense when he steps next to the pool.
He lines up at one side of the water, arms pressed tightly above his head and the rest of his body in one long, languid line. His knees bend, and just as he’s about to spring into the water on a perfect dive, someone pushes him in roughly.
Finnick sputters when he resurfaces, the water churning in little waves all around him, and he makes out Katniss on the edge of the pool. Her hair hangs long and knotted around her face, eyes twinkling and honest.
“I hate show-offs,” she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. Finnick swims back over towards her and crosses his arms on the ledge. Katniss is the strangest thing he’s ever met. She’s soft in all the places Jo’s hard, hard in all the places Annie’s too soft and beautiful even if she doesn’t realize it.
“I find that hard to believe, coming from the girl who shot at the judges table.”
She blushes a little, and mumbles something to herself. Finnick laughs and hoists himself up out of the water, sits next to her and presses a shoulder against her gently.
“You’re getting my clothes wet,” Katniss teases and Finnick rolls his eyes. Her entire right side is drenched now, thanks to him, but she can’t bring herself to mind really. She misses Peeta and Twelve and briefly, the way things used to be.
They sit there, in silence, for a couple more moments.
“Hey Katniss?” Finnick asks.
She swiveled her head up to look at him, face blank and kind of sad.
“I don’t like bullies,” he says with a shrug, one corner of his smile lifted and Katniss looks at him, confused.
He pushes her into the pool, the shallow end, just to be safe, and laughs when she walks out cursing at him.
harry potter. giants among men, or something like it. harry/hermione. hermione/ron.
In the tent, eyes half-closed and fingers tucked into mittens, Harry slips into bed with her most nights.
His breath hits the back of her neck in a steady, warm beat that reminds her she’s not alone. If in her dreams all she sees is Ron leaving, Ron dead, Ron bleeding, Ron with anyone but her, then at least she has the moments before when Harry’s finger knead together with hers.
It’s the most comforting thing in the world, the way he squeezes gently once twice thrice before letting go and murmuring, “Love you ‘Mione.”
Her heart constricts, a little, beating hard and fast against her rib cage as she whispers, “Love you too, Harry.” And she means it - really, she does. With Ron gone, there’s a hole in heart where woolly sweaters and bickering and piles of food used to be, and she knows now that living without Ron is never a possibility for her.
But oh, Harry fills up a whole section - filled with gentle glances and soft touches and slow dancing while the world turns to ash all around them. It’s a quieter kind of love, a slow burn that starts at her feet and gently warms every part of her.
Ron sets her on fire with one look, a flush on her cheeks and an intake of breath. I miss Ron, she thinks.
Harry makes no noise when he sleeps. Ron snores. She closes her eyes slowly and focuses on her own breathing. It’ll be nice to get a good night’s sleep, at least. Harry’s hand twitches in hers and she feels something like hope blossom in her chest.
true blood. little lion man. tommy/jessica.
Sometimes, Tommy gets so mad - at Sam, at Jo Lee, at the cards the world has dealt him, that he can feel a creature itching at his skin. It stays there, pawing and clawing and pecking at everything he is until he changes lightning-quick or clenches his fists and calms down, until all he hears is the steady beating of his human heart.
Looking at Jessica with Hoyt stirs up that feeling. Hoyt stares at Jessica when she’s not looking. Tommy should know, he does it too. His skin itches and his heart burns and he rolls his around, slow and steady, on his spine to try and relieve the tension that’s coiled up in him like a snake. He’s never had a great track record with girls, but Jessica is something else. Blue eyes and pale skin and red hair and legs up to there. Legs worth fighting for, worth hitting someone solid in the face until his knuckles ache.
(“You’re an ass,” girls have said to him before. This is where he laughs, cruelly, as they pick up their clothes and try to leave as quick as possible.
“I’m a dog, actually,” he corrects.)
Jessica’s crying in the kitchen when he finds her. Lafayette’s lording over the grill, spatula raised and crazy eyes staring at Tommy.
“Get this bitch up outta my kitchen,” he drawls while flipping burgers. Tommy glares and half-wishes Lafayette’s purple glitter turban would catch on fire.
Jess wipes her eyes quickly, blood smeared underneath her eyes, and swears under her breath.
“Damn it, I’m fine, Tommy. Just - just leave me alone, okay?”
“You’re so much better than that guy.”
She looks up slowly, carefully almost, and when they finally make eye contact she crosses her arms and shrugs apologetically. They’re in the hallway now, tucked into a back corner, and Tommy can hear Arlene screeching about how hard her job is. Blow me, he thinks. She’s a bitch anyways.
He’s so wrapped up in his thoughts that he’s taken by surprise when Jessica leans in close and kisses him. Her lips are softer than he thought, and it’s only once he starts kissing back that she pulls away.
“Shit,” she gasps, hand over her mouth and pretty blue eyes big and wide. “Oh shit, shit, shit. I’m sorry Tommy, I have to-”
She brushes by him, hitting his shoulder on her way out and Tommy sees Hoyt leaving the restaurant with that Summer chick.
“Wait!” He yells it more than once, but she never turns around and after a couple times Lafayette screams at him.
Tommy throws a dishrag into the sink, hard, and runs out back.
The ground is hard and wet underneath his paws and for now, it gets rid of that horrible feeling and replaces it with something like peace.
hunger games. the secret lore of ocean. finnick/katniss.
There’s nothing in the world that can calm Finnick down like the sea.
(Maybe the sound of Annie’s voice, tripping its way into his ears or Jo’s grasp, firm and steady on his arm or even Katniss’ eyes, strong and fierce and everything he wanted her to be.)
He misses it like an amputated limb, like something that should still be there but all of a sudden you wake up and realize it isn’t. It’s late at night and the pool is a poor replacement.
The waters a sickening clear green, lit up from underneath with bright lights and it doesn’t look anything like his ocean. Chlorine, the smell and taste of it, drift into his nose, eyes, mouth every possible sense when he steps next to the pool.
He lines up at one side of the water, arms pressed tightly above his head and the rest of his body in one long, languid line. His knees bend, and just as he’s about to spring into the water on a perfect dive, someone pushes him in roughly.
Finnick sputters when he resurfaces, the water churning in little waves all around him, and he makes out Katniss on the edge of the pool. Her hair hangs long and knotted around her face, eyes twinkling and honest.
“I hate show-offs,” she said with a casual shrug of her shoulders. Finnick swims back over towards her and crosses his arms on the ledge. Katniss is the strangest thing he’s ever met. She’s soft in all the places Jo’s hard, hard in all the places Annie’s too soft and beautiful even if she doesn’t realize it.
“I find that hard to believe, coming from the girl who shot at the judges table.”
She blushes a little, and mumbles something to herself. Finnick laughs and hoists himself up out of the water, sits next to her and presses a shoulder against her gently.
“You’re getting my clothes wet,” Katniss teases and Finnick rolls his eyes. Her entire right side is drenched now, thanks to him, but she can’t bring herself to mind really. She misses Peeta and Twelve and briefly, the way things used to be.
They sit there, in silence, for a couple more moments.
“Hey Katniss?” Finnick asks.
She swiveled her head up to look at him, face blank and kind of sad.
“I don’t like bullies,” he says with a shrug, one corner of his smile lifted and Katniss looks at him, confused.
He pushes her into the pool, the shallow end, just to be safe, and laughs when she walks out cursing at him.
harry potter. giants among men, or something like it. harry/hermione. hermione/ron.
In the tent, eyes half-closed and fingers tucked into mittens, Harry slips into bed with her most nights.
His breath hits the back of her neck in a steady, warm beat that reminds her she’s not alone. If in her dreams all she sees is Ron leaving, Ron dead, Ron bleeding, Ron with anyone but her, then at least she has the moments before when Harry’s finger knead together with hers.
It’s the most comforting thing in the world, the way he squeezes gently once twice thrice before letting go and murmuring, “Love you ‘Mione.”
Her heart constricts, a little, beating hard and fast against her rib cage as she whispers, “Love you too, Harry.” And she means it - really, she does. With Ron gone, there’s a hole in heart where woolly sweaters and bickering and piles of food used to be, and she knows now that living without Ron is never a possibility for her.
But oh, Harry fills up a whole section - filled with gentle glances and soft touches and slow dancing while the world turns to ash all around them. It’s a quieter kind of love, a slow burn that starts at her feet and gently warms every part of her.
Ron sets her on fire with one look, a flush on her cheeks and an intake of breath. I miss Ron, she thinks.
Harry makes no noise when he sleeps. Ron snores. She closes her eyes slowly and focuses on her own breathing. It’ll be nice to get a good night’s sleep, at least. Harry’s hand twitches in hers and she feels something like hope blossom in her chest.