#too many different types of slang happening here

[pcktknife]

im posting this here too look how they got my girl talkin

[brilliantfantasticgeronimo]

(vibrates) it's slug time

loving the slang... "tightness all day long" "today is toasty". also love that "babes" survives way into the future. 15 this is ur legacy. "that woman was her sister" incest implication??? 2 minutes in

TURN LEFT /triggered

the design in this is impeccable.

this is so sims coded.... from the creators of "doctor who is a tv show" theory we bring u-> "doctor who is a videogame"

if u were disappointed with the focus on magic this ep this ep is rlly giving classic scifi parody lol

CRAZY DAYS

there's a lot of wordsmith-ing in this ep….eyes emoji

i love ruby sm now she's so resourful in every ep

this episode is like "this is how an anniversary multi-doctor multi-companion multi-master webcam special could still win"

ok but seriously. ppl are gonna be like "phones bad is dumb of course people look where they are!!!" bro. they dont. and yeah it can have deadly consequences. there's a reason "dont text and drive" campaigns happen.

ruby has done SO many callcenter type jobs forreal.

SLUG TIME SLUG TIME SLUG TIME.

DR PEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!

this episode is amazing

"is that thing something to do with you?" bitch (i got a bit spoiled that she's a racist (damn "looking at tumblr for 2 secs to vibe check" habit) so im looking at this with more hindsight than u are supposed to sdlkfjd)

bluie light celeste and gold motif in ruby and the doc's backdrops? also fifteen in orange <3333333 my beloved

the interior design is ON POINT this ep "you dont know how to walk without the arrows?" "condescending much?" bitch

this episode is so fun lol

"fifteen nd ruby react channel" realness (WHICH…..HEY…….DO U KNOW WHAT PPL REACT TO………………………. T V SH O W S (clown make up fully on))

ruby has done so much service calling jobs forreal lol the sheer patience

the doctor really wanting to lose their minds here but having to hold it together is peak doctor sdkjfsd (also very realistic of the struggles i expected a black doctor to work thru)

there's a bit of a theme of instinct vs programming going on here.

"surrounded by this woodland forest thing. it's like, really natural"

hashtag obsessed with it the catharsis im feelin tbh. 2 ppl being like "yo mass killing is rlly wrong" while the cacophony of the internet ~fun goes on and on. where's the [fiction]

ITS LIKE LOVE ISLAND THE PLANET. BRO. bro im so WIRED IN /clown make up intensifies

penny pepper bean still strong holding the 12 ppl still in the tory party together in the year something something

"ruby and the doctor struggle to lie in the moment" is my favorite recurring trope

the doctor using the sonic as a remote right there……………….. im running out of clown make up ya'll

"you did NOT just "@everyone" realism

no one ever listens to the goths….

until its too late…

its interesting that there's no cameras in their feeds, tho. right? like. that's the layer i think it's profoundly different to irl in this satire / social crit. ppl are *locked out* of the real world bc they're looking at their screens, but they do that bc the screens are a constant waterfall of billions of camera footage either of individuals or coporations or institutions. always producing "content". so like is not that ppl dont "see" anythign irl but they see it all thru a filter or thru editing,,,, but its fine i get what the satire is going for slkdfj but yeah. i think thats why it may feel a bit "not quite capturing" of the current ~digital ethos

fifteen so close to losing it- fifteen if u want to go for a bit of a timelord victorious i wont judge. u can have it. as a treat.

doctor who is a videogame energy bbc merch idea -> zombies run type podcast but it's the doctor and ruby telling u where to go for a job so u dont die. (russel get on this)

YOU STILL HAVE BATTERY PROBLEMS

"this is your fault!" iconic. classic who

so many ppl have presumably died so far. god bless. we needed an ep like this. proper high body count who feels good. feels organic.

rip the au where these were the beatles. thats 1 theory im really gonna mourn for the rest of the series lol

plaza 55…… orphan 55 reference???

great abrogation sounds important.

"i will get out out of here. i promise" obligatory doctor mirroring moment.

oh shit.

"thi iss SO manual"

"hands off" I LOVE THEM !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! The doctor x companion x some bland guy love triangle DREAM omg

"he says they're saving us to eat for last (snob voice)maybe we're the most tasty" scream. this ep is so fun.

pentecost's style was so on point.

wasnt her battery running out? (i may have missed something sldkjf)

bro stop hitting the fucking gas pipes oh my goddddd

holy shit. RICKY NOOOOOOOOOOOOO

that was brutal.

racists are gonna hate this episode so much lol

fifteen getting to experience all the microaggressions/outright aggressions thirteen didnt. yay progress(???) "thats voodoo" holy shi t

"maintain the standards of finetime" rtd was pissed when writting this lol

fifteen is not doing all rightkids.

ncuti's "who's my doctor? he's a black man" prophecy comes FULL CIRCLE

fifteen looking at US tho…………… this is a tv show man. this is a tv show. this is - *im struggle against my straight-jacked as im graddged back to the cushion-walled cell*

the plot twist of this ep………… phones good actually. thank u phones. u are doing a service.

CONCLUSIONS!

so there's a lot of ways to chop this one…

"racism and capitalism still exists in the future" is a trope that it's kind of limiting / always grates me in some ways (it feeds into the anti-racism of ppl whose politics doesnt trascend idealist philosophy -> that is, it is an anti-racism that can't conceive of an end to racism bc it doesn't actually have a political project that address the material causes of racism and just tries to fix the "natural prejudices" away with "education". in other words, it cant portray a word without racism bc it cant *conveive* of one.) . however i think im more open to it this time / this series since s11 onwards the focus has been so much on telling stories about the present with scifi make up on. and i think this one manages to do that rlly well. ___

another vertice to look this one on is whether... is it really "doing anything" to have racism portrayed on screen (and other bigotry) in a scifi story? if u already experience racism or understand it happens, who is served by this? it's hurtful to watch and it's like missing the chance to "show a different world" is possible thru scifi. and the counterargument to that is on a """""color blind"""""" 2020s world it is rlly cathartic and re-affirming to have stories that *show* the realities of the world, and that dont shy away from showing those realities in fear of them coming off as "over the top" (bc they arent. some ppl will still walk away from this ep thinking "haha fun satires" but like. this is literally how White Rich People Talk. in real life.......) and again in this one time i think it works really well bc doctor who has… probably never done this? lol there's moments with martha and ryan for example, but never going this hard on it. but im open to discussion tbh. i think the angle of "is this a story about racism for white people to learn or is it a cathartic for *black / brown people to experience catharsis in" is gonna be one for fruitful discussion in the future. ___

besides the socio-political points,,,, bro this episode was a thrill ngl sdlkjf like so many simple, excellent moments like the girl walking into the light post. the made up slang and the real slang!!!!. the excellent interior design. "ruby and fifteen react to doctor who". just lots of fun little details. the execution was really inspired.

character point -> tbh fifteen at the end feels like a bit of Growth from like, ten at his worst moments -> "he's not the person you would have chosen to survive, but if you could decide who lives or dies, doctor, that would make you a monster"

also kinda wonder how this episde will hit for newbies / Not Us. i think a lot of its gut punch comes from dw never doing this before and so the strenght of subverting those expectations. is this an story that stands on its own w/o all the 60 years of context? we'll have to show it to our normie friends and see lol

[kinopeachy]

Why I think Waluigi and Rosalina work as a couple

I decided to write this informal essay/semi-fanfic (?) for some reason, I hope you all enjoy it ☺️ I ended up posting screenshots of this draft on Twitter as a thread but have decided to post it here as well haha. They might have initially become popular due to being the “leftover characters” to pair up as a het couple besides Mareach, Luaisy, and (sometimes) Warmona but they absolutely very much still work on their own!

Waluigi and Rosalina may seem like such different characters, but I think beneath the surface they’re actually a lot more similar than they appear to be…and that there’s actually a lot of hidden potential between them as a ship.

(more under the cut!)

I should preface this by saying that I do NOT think they work realistically if they fall in love at first sight. I think Rosalina — especially after interacting with Mario and friends after so long being alone — would be quite guarded and very hesitant to be close to/befriend anyone right away, much less fall in love with them…this is also more of a feeling based on her character but I don’t think she’s the type to really be attracted to anyone based on looks alone. I feel she’s the type of person who falls in love with someone — albeit very slowly — because of who they are on the inside. (For this reason I view all Rosalina ships as somewhat slow-burn, at least on her end).

As for Waluigi, he would probably be attracted to Rosalina based on her looks and what he’s heard about her at first glance, as well as fascinated with her mysterious aura, but he wouldn’t love her in a deeper way until later. I think his initial impression would be that she is beautiful but too unattainable — even more so than Daisy, with how reserved, secretive, and how otherworldly she looks. He doesn’t know much about her, but he’s heard bits from Wario about her being a very powerful being/guardian from space that Mario met while saving Peach yet again, so I feel like with this info he becomes interested in knowing more about her and (eventually) becomes more fascinated with her than with Daisy. He does pursue her a bit romantically at the start, but not too seriously.

Anyway, first thing is I think they would relate to each other over the fact that they’re both incredibly lonely for different reasons and that they are outsiders.

Rosalina is lonely because she’s never interacted with this many humans since she left with the Luma to find its mother and is getting used to being on earth again after so much time. I feel like just before she met and befriended Mario, she longed for human connection she hadn’t had in centuries as she felt that the Lumas couldn’t fully relate to her feelings sometimes, but didn’t know how to go about it. She is also obviously an outsider as she has lived in space for most of her existence and is just getting used to how modern society works, including modern slang and technology, so she feels a little out of place even if Mario and her friends like her presence.

On the other hand, Waluigi is lonely because he’s always overlooked and overshadowed by everyone as well as seen as so much of a loser that no one believes in him. Outside of the kart/party/sports events, he’s never really invited to anything and isn’t particularly close with anybody except for Wario, but even then, Wario kind of goes off to do his own thing a lot. He never really belongs anywhere and is just…there most of the time.

This moment where they end up relating to each other wouldn’t happen right away — I don’t see either of them as the type to instantly befriend each other upon their first meeting — but I like to think it happens after Rosalina has gone to a few of the sports/kart/party events. At this point they would be aware of each other’s existence, and would have interacted a few times (with these interactions mostly being Waluigi either doing his usual grumbling or flirting with Rosa because he thinks she’s kind of attractive, she would be a bit taken aback but not really think much of it), but they don’t really see each other in a particularly positive or negative light, kind of more neutrally. Waluigi would kind of like Rosalina because of his attraction to and fascination with her, but would be a bit suspicious of her intentions because of her connection to Mario and the gang. Rosalina would think Waluigi is an…interesting character and isn’t as disgusted or as repulsed by his nature as others (she doesn’t let stuff like that bother her), but she wouldn’t really think much else of him.

However, when it does happen, Rosalina happens to catch Waluigi in a rare moment of weakness when he thinks no one is looking, one where he seems kind of...sad, which is quite uncharacteristic of him. She sees a crack through his usually carefully crafted persona he has of being vain, rude, conceited, and overconfident — which is all a façade. He actually isn’t very confident in himself at all, and has very poor self-esteem. No one — not his (former) crush Daisy, not his rival Luigi, sometimes not even his brother/friend Wario as he can be a bit self-absorbed and dismissive of him sometimes — seems to really care about him…

Rosalina is incredibly perceptive, so she happens to pick up on this small moment and that’s how she ends up confronting him. (She usually isn’t one to approach others first, but she felt compelled to since being the naturally nurturing, comforting person she is, she just couldn’t watch him being sad.) And through this moment — though they don’t get overly personal about their pasts yet — Waluigi somehow ends up being honest about his feelings of worthlessness and not belonging, and Rosalina assures him that he is worthy and that she relates to the feeling of being an outsider, having not spent too much time on this planet. This marks the beginning of an unlikely friendship where Waluigi ends up not playing up this persona as much when around Rosalina and ends up feeling supported for the first time in his life. As for Rosalina, she would feel less weird about being an outsider knowing he is too — I feel like Waluigi would be surprisingly supportive during her weak moments especially after she showed him so much kindness. Through this friendship, they’d slowly begin to trust each other more, share more about themselves, and (eventually) fall in love.

The next thing is, I feel like they would bring the best in each other. Rosalina would bring out more of Waluigi’s calmer, more mellow self; Waluigi would bring out more of Rosalina’s childish, whimsical self. I feel that because of their past experiences, these parts of their personalities don’t really shine through as much anymore…

For Waluigi, this is more headcanon than anything, but I imagine he has been dismissed all throughout his upbringing and childhood by his parents/family, so his persona is a way for him to deal with these negative feelings of worthlessness. This part of his past brings up negative memories which I feel like could be one reason he is quite secretive about his personal life…so I feel like Rosalina is helpful in reassuring him and calming him down when he feels especially angry or bitter about himself.

For Rosalina, I think deep down she still has a bit of unresolved grief over losing her mother and family as well as feels the weight of the responsibilities as the mother of the Lumas and protector of the cosmos so she lost a lot of the childish whimsical self that she had…she easily gets stressed and forgets to enjoy herself…I like to think Waluigi is a prankster even if he’s acting in a more good natured manner so he always tries to find a way to make Rosalina smile/laugh. I love thinking about them doing goofy things together from time to time…

There’s a bit more to it than this but like. These are the two big reasons that I feel they can work. I know it seems very strange and I hope it doesn’t seem too out of character for them but I hope you can see my vision 😭

[olderthannetfic]

https://olderthannetfic.tumblr.com/post/738837493190934529/httpsolderthannetfictumblrcompost73871242031#notes Oh it's definitely not. Otherwise I wouldn't be looking for a word for it. That's why I explained what I meant, because I kinda knew that author's voice would probably be wrong.

Interesting to find out more about it though. Heard it thrown around here and there, but was never sure what it actually refers to.

Though I wouldn't even say it's an OOC issue, because it happens in original works too, so technically it could be considered "in character." I have encountered it in both fics and original works, and an additional quirk of that writing is that the character/s will have mindsets that don't match the world they're in, or it will be so over the top that it comes across as an unwanted parody just by the tone of the story.

Weird meme speech, pop culture references, dialogue/monologues that sound like the author just copy-pasted from their twitter/facebook rants, and a lot of that superficial knowledge on topics/issues/problems that is key for all that mouth frothing.

There's also often this weird poorly blended mix between ideas they like and the world, that makes it even more obvious. Like if they write a story where they want to show a the backdrop to be this super oppressive world where everyone has base level education to not have an uprising. Our main lead though, for some reason is the one unique individual with all the knowledge of a modern internet user, and has seen right through everything, but the story never explains why. This is super popular with both further on the edge sides of the political spectrum, and it screams mouth piece to the max and a lack of reflection.

Why does this character know everything when the Government is apparently so effective that no one questions anything? Fuck you, I'm the author and I wanted to show how smart I am and how stupid everyone else is. Here's my facebook/twitter rant!

I know it technically is bad writing, but it's such a specific type of bad writing, and it happens so frequently I would love a simple name for it.

--

Interesting to find out more about it though. Heard it thrown around here and there, but was never sure what it actually refers to.

Re "voice", it's the set of things that make you go "Ah, this sounds like X wrote it", basically. The actual POV might be a specific character, in which case, X is trying to sound like that character, but they still have a particular way of writing that's a little different from other authors trying to write a similar character. It's even more obvious in nonfiction.

Like... on tumblr, I sound like me. Sure, some of it is my actual personality or views, but there's also just the manner in which I write. I could have the same personality but communicate it differently or more poorly. How often do I use big words? How often do I use slang? How many clauses are in my sentences? In my case, I do kind of sound like this out loud too, but that's never a guarantee either. A lot of it is about the writing craft the person has consciously cultivated over time.

I think subject matter can be relevant to voice, like authors who love to describe food in every work or something, but a lot of it has to do with whether the person is funny overall or what kind of sentence structure they tend to go for. It's a broad vibe thing.

(Certainly, horrid PSAs are part of some authors' voices, but you can use the term to describe any general "Sounds like so-and-so" vibe.)

Honestly, the thing where only the protagonist is ~So Special~ that they alone have twitter brain see through the evil government is one of the obnoxious traits readers often brand as a Mary Sue. That's certainly not the term for this whole phenomenon though.

[janice-christ]

Some Answers To Your Questions (Transcribed by Janice's Daughter Naomi)

May 7, 2024

Hi all,

This is Janice's daughter Naomi again. We've been getting a lot of questions from some curious new followers and thought we'd just compile them all here in one post. Mom tends to veer off topic when she gets going so I'm here to transcribe the important bits and leave out the rest.

Q&A

Q: Can you tell us more about your alien abduction?

A: 1997 - October 14th. Matthew Mark Luke John and I were in a brief period of separation and I was home alone with Naomi. I'd just put her to bed around 7 o'clock and walked outside to have a cigarette (Camel blues - and while we're on the subject, why don't they allow smoking indoors anymore? We used to be able to light up an honest to god Pall Mall in the middle of Catholic Mass back in the 70s) [note from Naomi: this rant went on for 13 solid minutes before I got her back on track]. Anyway, I walked out to stand on the front porch and I passed out. Next thing I know, I'm getting strapped up and suspended from the ceiling, high in the air with my belly down and gooch out. I couldn't see anything but the floor at least 10 feet beneath me. There were probably nine or ten little guys looking up at me from below like town perverts waiting for an upskirt shot. Ugly little fuckers. You could see through their skin to their organs. I'm pretty sure the one who strapped me up was the leader because he had a hat. Then suddenly the lights went dark and I screamed - and that's when I heard three other screams. Definitely human. I have no idea who they were or where they are now and it tortures me twenty four hours out the goddamned day. Then I felt a big ol' gust of pressure and I was transported to some sort of void. Black all around me. A few seconds later the Hat Guy wheeled a TV in front of me and turned it on. For the next 3 hours and 15 minutes, the screen played James Cameron's "Titanic", which I found very odd as the movie wasn't due to release on Earth until December. As soon as the credits rolled I woke up in my bed as if nothing happened. I almost thought it was a dream until I dug into my morning bowl of cottage cheese and tasted sulfur as if my entire mouth was painted with the stuff. Now anything I orally consume tastes like that. I have to get my nutrients through a DIY feeding tube I engineered in '98. Patent still pending but I hold on to hope.

Q: You don't seem too worried about your missing husband, but your daughter Naomi does. Why?

A: I don't know - you'll have to ask Naomi why she cares so goddamned much [note from Naomi: he's my dad]

Q: Your bit isn't funny

A: Is this some type of internet explorer slang?

Q: Why do you hate your 4 year old grandson so much? Do you hate kids?

A: I love children! Zachary is not a child. He is a government drone. [note from Naomi: We're working on this relationship]

Q: If you could find the other victims from the night of your abduction, what would you ask them?

A: Oh, too many questions to name! But to start I'd ask if they also watched Titanic or if they got a different film like Boogie Nights or Good Will Hunting.

Q: You say you're single and looking - what kind of partner are you looking for?

A: Anyone who can slap my ass and ride a hog, honey (MUST be willing to assist in twice-daily tadpole experiments)

[note from Naomi: please do not indulge her in this, I am begging you]

---

That's all for now, folks.

Once again, my father is still missing. Last seen wearing a tweed suit in Atlanta, Georgia six months ago, black toupee, 5'3", ~230lbs, walks with a slight limp, favoring his left side. His full name is Matthew Mark Luke John Christ.

Please, PLEASE reach out if you have any information whatsoever on his whereabouts. As Mom said before, there are no known photographs of him as he is staunchly against photography as a concept and industry. If it helps, he looks a little bit like John Goodman if John Goodman was 5'3" with a black toupee and a limp.

Maybe we'll do another one of these if we get some more questions in bulk - Zachary and I are moving in with Mom to help her out until Dad comes back so things are a little chaotic here as you can imagine. Until then, please spread the word about my father if you can.

-Naomi

AND janice xx

[borrelia]

Since round 2 of @sonic-oc-showdown is so close right now, thought I'd do this questionnaire for dog! after going through some other competitors' summaries vs propaganda, i definitely get a much better idea of the character from this supplemental stuff!

Original post by @/redd956 here! Banner by @/bunnymajo :) ty!

✨- How did you come up with the OC’s name?

Hmm poorly! ^_^; But the logic became: Dog picked his name* because he was amused by the idea of having a name that can be general slang. he's always waiting for the day when someone says "what's up, dawg?" (he lives in a 90s sonic comic okay?) and he can.. well.. he hasn't really realized his response would not be different whether that was just a normal greeting or his name. and I'm not sure it's going to happen either, but it amuses him anyway. he's easily amused :) *all three of them in their core friend group have picked their names. dog + bebe for transgender reasons and fleet just for general Identity reasons.

🌼 - How old are they? (Or approximate age range)

16 (or 16-ish; i actually have to check his ref every time so the specific number isn't that important since I can never remember it)

🍕 - What is their favorite food?

i feel like this kid could DEMOLISH some chinese takeout. he's going for noodles, he's going for dumplings, he's going for spice.

🎹 - Do they have any hobbies?

skating! dog + her friends all meet + bond over skating :) dog prefers to board and honestly takes it real casual. she can do some tricks and will go out there and focus for a while, but usually she just slowly rolls around on her board and chats with her friends. she also collects trading cards and plays videos games.

🎯 -What do they do best?

dog isn't really the competitive type--she's just here to have fun and be herself. as such, she doesn't really care to think about whether or not shes 'good' at things... he's just chilling! i think his friends might say his strengths are in handling stress, being a good listener, and first aid. and then theyd tack on that some of the casual little gum wrapper crafts she makes are wicked cool

🥊 -What do they love to do? What do they hate to do?

loves: chilling, being with friends, hanging out, having a good time

hates: when anything starts to be not that. majorly avoids anything that is too much Not the above things.

❤️ - What is one of your OC’s best memories?

not really a memory, but i think he treasures his childhood friendship with bebe :) he loves to see how she's grown into a more confident and happy person. any time he makes a new friend is a good memory. any time his friends make a new friend is also a good memory. reaching out and welcoming in that nervous yellow hedgehog lingering at the edge of the park for the first time and seeing him warm up to the group was a good memory :)

✂️ - What is one of your OC’s worst memories?

dog good vibes forever <3

🧊 - Is their current design the first one?

Pretty much! I've gone back and forth on what kind of gloves to give her, and the hoodie is just a normal skull instead of sans, but otherwise is still check my work on her original ref

🍀 - What originally inspired the OC?

Fleet Needs Friends dot MyMind

🌂 - What genre do they belong in?

Dog being part of canon-divergence au in the fleetway comics puts her in variety comedy/adventure i guess :) in my mind, the stories the group get up to are "working together to defeat a minor villain in the area even though they don't have powers" and "getting possessed by/having wishes granted by/retrieving one of ebony's magical macguffins." the non-story fanficky stuff is mostly Chilling, Hanging Out, Shooting the Shit, and Being Unbothered. (as well as like. semi-grounded melodrama. you know the fun of taking character moments So Seriously?)

💚 - What is your OC’s gender identity and sexuality?

gender: ? sexuality: ??

🙌 - How many sibling does your OC have?

none that I've bothered to make, but i could see her having an adult older brother

🍎 - What is the OC’s relationship w/their parents like?

dog's parents aren't really in the picture! he lives with his nan. they have a semi-strained relationship--they love each other and have their bonding moments, but she can get pretty riled up about some of the things dog does (knuckle tats, dirty room), even if there are others she just doesn't seem to care about (skipping school, extended stays at friends' houses, nosering). dog usually defaults to "ignore and avoid" if things are anything less than peachy.

🧠 - What do you like most about the OC?

he's just so easy to draw and i got that design down PAT. im really happy with dog + bebe + merger fleet all sharing color across their designs :) the friends. (i need to get bebe some green +gold accents tho it seems...)

also the knuckle tats detail and this

✏️ - How often do you draw/write about the OC?

usually when i'm having a fleet Moment dog comes along for the ride, maybe gets slingshotted forward into his own moment. so not that often, but in batches

💎 - Do you ever see yourself killing off the OC?

dog live forever <3

💀 - Does your OC have any phobias?

none that she would tell you 👍

🍩 -Who is your OC’s arch-nemesis or rival?

dog everyones friend forever <3

🎓 - How long have you had the OC?

Just over a year! the ref is dated august 6th 2022 and i did the original sketches the day before.

[unnamable-lee]

Yknow what, what the heck ill post it. ignore the bad character dialogue

Sudden Return

~~~

HFJONE -- Lee!Taylor Ler!Charise -- Does contain ship content -- WC: 1065

~~~

“At least here stuff… happens. Back home, it’s just more of the same. Wake up, go to school, go to work, go home and go to sleep. I–I just wish I–” The buzz of a run down AC system wisped past Taylor. Bright green grass was replaced with the deep blue of her apartment mattress. In shock, the magazine frantically looked around. Everything looked the same all the way down to the tears and scratch mark on the walls. Even her phone still lay on the ground. Missed call and text notifications covered her lock screen as Taylor picked her phone up to check the date. Two days had passed since she vanished onto the plane.

Taylor scrolled through her notifications. “Missed call, missed call, missed call, and so many texts from Charise and mom,” she mumbled to herself. She tapped one of the missed call notifications from Charise and waited. The ring of the phone made the tension swell by the second. Finally, her girlfriend had answered the phone.

“Alright who is this? This better not be some sick prank. You know how I feel about–”

“Charise! Charise it’s me, Taylor.”

“...No it’s not,” the stocking hesitated. Her skepticism was understandable. Two days of radio silence just to suddenly come back isn’t something that just happens. “There’s no way this is Taylor. C’mon. Who is it really?” she tried to hold back tears.

“Please Char, I’m being serious. It’s me. Come to my apartment and you can see me in the flesh.”

“Facetime me first. I’m not about to get killed tonight,” the girl’s voice was shaky. Taylor transferred over to a video call, giving the camera a soft grin before being met with an ended call. Hopefully Charise was just excited.

```

A cacophony of loud banging on the door and a desperate shout could be heard past Taylor’s apartment wall. This was sure to get a noise complaint. Taylor opened the door and was instantly slammed into the floor in a bear hug tighter than any hug she’d experienced before. Charise let faint sobs slip from her as she cuddled closer to her girlfriend. Returning the favor, Taylor wrapped her arms around the knitted stocking. A few minutes had passed before Charise managed to squeak words out, “Where the hell did you go? You vanished out of nowhere when we were talking on the phone, but now you’re suddenly back. Are you okay? Are you hurt at all?”

“Everything’s good, Char. I promise, but I don’t think you’d believe anything I’m about to tell you,” Charise lifted herself up to stare Taylor in the eyes.

“Why would that be? I mean, what happened was already unbelievable enough. It can’t get worse.”

“Oh but it sure can,” Taylor continued on to explain the honestly horrific story of where she went, yet she managed to keep it lighthearted with little sound effects and her usual slang. Whether it be watching someone watch a baby get impaled by a wood pole or flying off said pole, Taylor did her best not to make it too serious despite the darkness of what had happened. “That Bassy person still freaks me out a ton. It was so fucking creepy.”

“Yeah, that doesn’t sound fun at all. I do have to ask, are you sure you weren’t on anything?”

“Charise, you know I don’t dabble with those types of things.”

“I don’t know; that whole story felt like a whole trip, even to me!” The two laughed together as they got up and lay on the creaky, springboard mattress. Eventually, the room fell silent as the two objects lay next to each other to simply enjoy the other's presence. Charise would look over to Taylor every now and again before darting her eyes back to a different part of the small apartment when the magazine tried to look back.

“Do you need something, dear?” Taylor asked as the quick glances became more obvious.

“Oh I just– I was wondering if I could–” Charise cut herself off and placed her palms over her face, “I was wondering if I could do the thing,” she peeked through her hands to see a stupefied Taylor looking back. “Sorry, it’s okay if you don’t want to. You just came back. I just thought since it cheers both of us up that–” Taylor placed a finger on Charise’s mouth.

“Yes, Char. You can do the thing,” it would be nice. After spending two days on a weird mystery planet, doing something with Charise felt like the best way to forget about it all. “Just try not to wake anybody UP–” Taylor was abruptly cut off by nimble fingers bouncing around her pages.

“Ha! Tickle monster has got you now! God your smile is adorable,” the stocking teases as she continues to fiddle with Taylor’s sides. The poor girl was giggling like crazy; she didn’t want to wake any of the neighbors up.

“Chahahar you bihihtch!” Taylor cursed between frantic giggles. Charise gasped in offense.

“How dare you use that language around me! This calls for drastic measures.”

“Waihihit ChAAHHAR–” Charise’s hands had gone to where Taylor’s hips would be, softly kneading at the spot. Taylor couldn’t keep quiet anymore, so she’d apologize to her neighbors later. “HEHEY NOOHOHO FAIHIR!”

“Yes fair, Tay-tay. Say sorry, and then I’ll let you go,” teased Charise as she knew what the answer would be.

“NEHEHEVER!”

“Oh well. I guess I’ll have to pull out my secret weapon,” just as fast as she had declared, Charise began to scribble her fingers all over Taylor’s stomach. Of course, this resulted in Taylor snort laughing. “There it is! There’s the real laugh of my beautiful golden girl.”

“SHUUHUHUT OKAY I’M SOHORY,” Taylor shrieked between snorts and laughter. The stocking slowed down her pace before eventually stopping her attack. For now. As one final blow, Charise took in a deep breath and laid a raspberry in the middle of Taylor’s stomach. Letting out her last few laughs, Taylor hugged herself and rolled around the bed. Residue giggles escaped Taylor as Charise cuddled up next to the tuckered out girl.

“Never vanish out of thin air again, alright? You made me worried sick.”

“I won’t make any promises,” Taylor shook her fist in the dusty air seemingly directed at a certain someone. The couple giggled a final time before drifting off to sleep.

[chicknparm]

didn't wanna dump this garbage in the notes of lrb, but yesterday I saw a video of someone attempting to disrupt a rally by screaming and falling to the ground as if they'd been attacked. pretty clear case of what wrestling fans would recognize as "overselling" or sports fans would call "flopping," where this guy embellished any slight contact he made with someone in this crowd. scummy and dishonest stuff for sure. but wouldn't ya know, you scroll down literally a handful of replies to the post and you've got people saying "it's in the zio's nature to be deceitful" and "they are the masters of playing the victim." scroll a little further than that and you've got "false tears are the mark of the jew" and straight up just memes with pictures of hitler saying "I tried to warn you." But hey, there's no antisemitism present in this movement, right? It's all an overreaction and a manipulative distraction from the real issues, right?

so many people On Here and in the online left in general looooove to (justifiably) clown on people who call themselves radical feminists, yet ally themselves with far-right politicians in order to push transphobic policy and sentiment. too many of you are getting too comfortable in those glass houses though. antizionism is not antisemitism, but you really need to stop throwing a fit any time someone suggests you should actually give a shit about the latter. it is extremely easy for bad-faith right-wing grifters and genuinely antisemitic leftists to launder their antisemitism by expanding their scope from condemning Netanyahu and the Israeli government -> condemning the nation of Israel as a concept -> condemning every citizen of Israel as a willful and complicit colonizer (not an unprecedented position in anticolonialism but extremely rich coming from north americans) -> condemning zionists (using whatever definition is most convenient at the time) -> condemning jews who don't actively disavow and undermine zionism -> condemning anyone with visible connection to judaism, and then huh I wonder what the next step is? yell at me about "slippery slope fallacy" but I've personally seen people at every stage of this, and I've seen more than one person actually go down said slope in the last year.

if your politics are informed by empathy, and a desire to see people lead safe and autonomous lives, then it's pretty easy to draw a line in the sand about this stuff. if bombing and displacing civilians is wrong, then kidnapping and executing them is also wrong. you cannot mourn peace activists and teachers being killed without also mourning journalists and aid workers. war crimes from an oppressive militaristic government should not be written off as "war is messy" when done by a different oppressive militaristic government. but if you're the type of person to side eye your jewish friend because their parents took them to israel when they were a kid, you'd better be keeping an eye on your other friend who's been picking up all kinds of new 4chan-approved slang lately. if you prioritize empathy, and peace, and believe in a more just world, you can agitate for the freedom and safety of the people in Gaza without turning a blind eye to antisemitic violence and hate. but if your politics are instead informed by a desire to feel right and to feel righteous, then you're allowed to disregard anything that happens to those who you perceive as your enemy. and a lot of people have proven how easy it is to convince them that jews are their enemy. and that is reason to worry.

[psyoniks]

Fankids rant

When the brain hyperfixes on your own characters

This is just a bunch of stuff thrown together about my fankids.

None of this is going to be organized.

----

(I just realized the photos might be out of order so for reference Casy is the one with black hair and Cain is the one with blonde)

My fankids are Casy(pronounced cai-see[Casey] instead of cas-sie because cannon hates me), Garcia and Cain Carter.

In the beta timeline, Cain is Casy's gurdian as his older cousin and vice verse in the alpha timeline.

They're both half-mexican, i don't know why they have different last names.

Casy Garcia 13(at the start of sburb), 16(current) He/they Unlabeled 5'1

Here's an old-ish intro:

ENTER NAME

Your name is CASEY. But for the sake of cannon you begrudgingly also accept CASY. Screw the e. Is it now CAS-E or CA-SY? This is an incredible miniscule and dumb thing to be thinking about but it still bothers you anyways. For clarification it's pronounced CAES-E. Long A sound. CAY-SEE. That's not a long a sound is it?

It is nowhere NEAR your BIRTHDAY, nor do you really CARE. It's too far away to even being thinking about.

There's nothing particularly interesting going on in this moment. Then again you are completely FINE with nothing interesting happening. You like doing absolutely JACK SHIT and wasting your time doing NOTHING. It's practically the same thing.

Your interests include a variety of POCKET-MONSTER FRANCHISES such as POKÉMON, BAKUGAN and DIGIMON. If someone mentions how much better DIGIMON is than POKÉMON then you are promptly, going lose your mind. It's simply NOT TRUE.

Of course you have more INTERESTS than just those things. You aren't a complete LOSER. Yeah you're not fooling yourself either. You spend ample amount of time DRAWING, even if you claim that you're not very good at it. It's a work in progress. You also like SLEEPING. Who the hell doesn't. This is how much of a LOSER that you are. You don't even have enough interests to make this interesting.

You have an APPRECIATION for most things in the EARLY 2010's. INCLUDING but not limited to, WEB-COMICS, CREEPYPASTAS and other things you can't be bothered to recall. WARRIOR CATS is also one of them and you SHAMELESSLY will not admit that you may or may not ROLEPLAY as said WARRIOR CATS. You warily kick back your metaphorical drawings of you ocs under your metaphorical bed. No one needed to know this.

Just recently you've ASENDED the peak of being a LOSER and got yourself interested in the HORRORS any sane person calls D&D. Do you understand any of it? Hell no but it's cool as hell. This is why you have no irl friends.

You have a INCREDIBLY ANNOYING HABBIT that's called PROCRASTINATION. There's many ways you could get around this issue, but you don't really feel like it. Ironic.

What will you probably not do?

---

Your pesterchum handle is [AA] apprehensiveAnomaly and you type with all lower case, making sure to end each sentence with a period for punctuality. You have no idea if you used that word right, but it sounds cool so you don't bother to fix it.

Your STRIFE SPECUIBUS is Yo-yo kind, showing off the one sick yo-yo move you know how to do. Most of the time you just end up with a tangled up yo-yo though.

--

Casy dreams on Derse and is a Mage of Mind.

TrollAu: He's a gold blood with a more neon purple and yellow for his color scheme. Only his psyonics works in one of his eyes, the left one which is purple. The other is just yellow.

---

Okay that's enough about him now onto Cain.

Cain Carter 16(current) He/him Gay 5'6

I don't have a lot for him yet but I have a half finished intro:

You speak often with 80s SLANG. Why? Because it's RADICAL. Much to the dismay of EVERYONE AROUND YOU.

You enjoy PLAYING BASKETBALL as a choice of SPORT. But RECENTLY, you've been unable to play due to AN UNFORTUNATE EVENT of you THROWING your BALL at a WINDOW in ANGER. Causing the WINDOW to shatter and your BALL deflate in DEFEAT.

You also have a SECRECT HOBBY, not even your closest friends know about. You SECRECTLY enjoy playing D&D. But you wouldn't tell anyone that. You don't want to be seen as a NERD. Imagine that.

Your PESTERCHUM HANDLE IS [AA]abstractedAdversary. Thank goodness none of your friends have the same abrievation otherwise that would get confusing fast.

Your STRIFE SPESIBUS is BatKind. Even though...you don't play baseball? Where did this come from? Must've belonged to your OLDER COUSIN. Oh well, now it's yours.

--- Cain dreams on Prospit(is that even allowed? Can like the ectobio relatives dream on different moons? Idfk) and is a Heir of Heart

If he was a troll he'd be a Bronze blood hiding as a Fushia. I don't know how but he'd figure it out how to pull it off. Why would he try and disguise himself as a troll where's there only one living at a time? No idea, it's Cain.

---

um i think thats mostly everything so heres so random pesterlogs

[johnsamericano]

𝔖𝔲𝔤𝔞𝔯 ℜ𝔲𝔰𝔥 𝔧.𝔧.𝔥 •2•

Hi hi! I'm back with another chapter. This one might not be as good(?, it's a really fluffy chapter so bear with me.

warnings: sugar daddy jae, he's a big baby, tooth rotting, kinda long.

sugar rush m.list.

taglist: @thoreeo @trustmahluv @sunny-nyu @nanascupid @silent-potato

“Sir, there’s a girl asking to see you.”

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Hey, I’m not a girl!” He chuckled as his finger pressed the button to communicate with his secretary.

“Let her in.”

Only a few seconds later, your head was peeking through his door.

“I brought you coffee.” You extended your hand out, showing him the carton containing two iced drinks. “Are you busy?”

“Not at all, come in.” You sat on the elegant, individual sofa in front of him, his desk serving as a separation. “Are you here to spy on me? Don't you trust me with your father's case?” He pouted, typing something in his keyboard while your palms started sweating.

How could you not trust the man with the highest case winning index in the whole country?

Briefly, after your encounter with the other lawyer, you'd googled him as well as his company. Because of his incredibly high fees, he didn't have many clients, but those few who had enough money to cost him were almost assured to be on the winning side. So then, why hadn't an excellent lawyer like him popped up when you'd first looked for popular firms? Simple, he wasn't popular.

Just like a hidden gem, only a few had the pleasure to know Yoonoh, and you felt beyond grateful for paying that stupid membership weeks ago.

“No, no!” You were quick to defend yourself, frantically shaking your hands to support your previous statement. “Just wanted to be of help.”

Truth to be told, after receiving your first weekly allowance, an unsettling feeling had been squeezing your heart ever since. Call it guilt or whatever, but it didn't set right to be receiving si much help from him when you hadn't had the chance to do anything in return. The least you could do was trying to be polite.

“You shouldn't be spending your money on me. I'm the one supposed to spoil you, remember?” He grabbed the plastic container by the lid, sipping the bitter liquid with an amused smile. “But thank you.”

“I paid my rent yesterday.” You blurted out, trying to avoid the uncomfortable silence threatening to settle between the two of you. “And I still have money left to save for my father's hospital bills, maybe even buy a present for my aunt.”

He admired how noble you were, making sure those around you had enough before even thinking to do something for yourself.

“I have a party this Friday, would you like to attend with me?” Your presence wasn't required as it wasn't a big event, but by the look in your eyes, he knew you were itching to do something in return for his kindness.

“Yes, of course!” Your orbs sparkled with excitement, finally feeling yourself useful.

“If you don't mind waiting, we can go buy something for you to wear right after I finish with this.” For what seemed like the tenth time in less than ten minutes, small beads of sweat rolled down the back of your neck. Thank God he wasn't able to see them. “Oh, come on, don't give me that look!”

“You’ve already done so much for me. I can buy the clothes myself, don't worry.” With a deep sigh, Yoonoh rose from his chair, taking long strides to surround the desk separating you. “W-what are you doing?” Now kneeling on the floor beneath you, his face was dangerously close to yours, coffee breath crashing against your nose.

“Using mind control to convince you to let me take you out.” He stared at you for a couple more seconds before saying: “Is it working?”

“I think your mind control is broken.” You whisper, unable to hold back the small giggles bubbling at the back of your throat.

“How about now?” He batted his eyelashes, trying to act cute despite his bold features. You shook your head.

Just as you thought it was over, his hand went up to cup your jaw, his thumb drawing uneven figures on the ticklish skin.

“How about now?” He repeated. You stammered, unsure of what to say. “Sorry, that was inappropriate.” Aware of your awkwardness and the rising heat in your cheeks, he stood up, walking back to his chair. “But I do want to get you something, would you let me?”

With your mind busy and your guard low, you nodded, unaware of the silly smile on his face.

“I have a few novels on my shelf in case you want something to kill time.”

“Thank you.” You moved to the huge bookshelf facing his desk, grateful your face wasn't visible anymore.

The books were ordered by genre and size, starting from the biggest law-related textbooks to pocket-sized novels, ending with the smallest one he had. The little prince.

Your eyes widened in disbelief. Yoonoh didn't seem to be the type to read that kind of heartbreaking yet beautiful book. Nonetheless, as many said, you can't judge a book by its cover.

An hour or two later, you were halfway into the first book of flowers in the attic, immersed in the small world the author had created. Yoonoh had finished his work a few minutes before, but distracting you when you were reading so vividly, seemed like a crime. He enjoyed the way your eyebrows would knit together every time something shocking happened, clearly too immersed in the novel to notice his intense gaze.

“Y/n...” He whispered once he noticed you were starting a new chapter. You blinked twice, hands clutching the book tightly as you noticed he had finished his work. “You can take it home, don't worry.”

“Sure?” He flashed his pretty dimples as his eyes turned into half-moons.

“You can come back for the rest of the saga when you finish this one. Take as many books as you please, I’ve already read them all.”

“Thank you.” Another act of kindness you had no way of returning. His favors just seemed to be piling up before you could even return any. “Would you like to have dinner with me today? I'm a great cook, or so did my father said.” You blurted out quickly, twisting your hands nervously as you waited for an answer.

“I’d love to. But I might have to attend some work calls if you don't mind.”

“I don't, maybe I'll even have time to bake a cake while you're at it.” God, how bad he wanted to take a picture of that adorably nervous smile.

“Great, so it's settled. Dinner at your place after we go shopping.” He had already put his blazer on, offering his arm to guide you out. With shaky fingers and sweaty armpits, you grabbed it, walking by his side with his secretary’s gazed glued on you. So much for a girl, huh?

Once seated in his car, with the book resting on your lap, you allowed yourself to relax. Yoonoh wasn't a bad person, on the contrary, he was very kind, so there was no use in keeping your guard up when he was around.

“Ready to roll?” You cringed at his use of slang, making him drop his head back to laugh. “What? Isn't it a thing you cool young adults say?”

“Maybe twenty years ago, Yoonoh.” It was the very first time you used his name so informally, and, oh how good it felt to hear you saying it?

“Fine, I won't use it anymore.” He poked your arm like a little child, and for a moment, you wondered if he was actually more than a decade older.

Several bad jokes, two dresses, and a quick stop at the grocery store later, you arrived at your apartment. Yoonoh held everything while you entered the passcode, struggling not to drop a can of vegetables that was starting to bend the edge of the paper bag.

“Ready, hand me something.” You both entered with your hands packed with different things. You went to your room to leave the new dresses while Yoonoh set the paper bags down on the kitchen counter.

“So...” He clapped loudly. “What are we cooking?”

“I bought the ingredients for lasagna. Is that okay with you?” He nodded, lips pressed and dimples in display. “Alright, let's do this.”

It would've been of great help if Yoonoh had told you he didn't know how to cook. But of course, part of the fault was yours for not noticing when he tried to add ketchup to the recipe.

“I burnt it.” He looked at the semi-carbonized pasta with disgust, feeling ashamed of having ruined your dish. “Let’s just throw it away and order something.” He was about to touch the hot container until your grip on his wrist halted his movements.

“We just pulled it out of the oven.” You shook your head in disbelief at the man standing in front of you.

“Sorry.”

Despite Yoonoh’s endless complaining, you ate the lasagna. The flavor wasn't that bad when you scratched off the burnt parts, especially when accompanied by a cold glass of wine.

“It’s not that bad.” You repeated over and over again. A phone call interrupted him from self-pitying any further. “Go on, take it.” You continued eating while he spoke in the living room.

It wasn't until a couple of minutes later that you realized he was whisper yelling at whoever was on the other line. It was your first time seeing him angry, and you didn't like it one bit. The way his face turned completely stoic, his eyes cold as his hand rested on his hip. Sweet, caring, Yoonoh was gone.

“I told you I needed it for today.” He said through gritted teeth. “You better get it before I arrive back at the office, or you can find yourself another job.” Even after he hung up, Yoonoh stood in the middle of the shared area, clutching his phone so tightly, it seemed like it would break any minute.

You wanted to ask if everything was alright, if he needed any help, but most importantly, if the things he needed were related to your father's case, but all the words stuck to your throat like insects in a spider web.

“I need to go.” He simply said, not even bothering to fake a smile. “Thank you for dinner, I'll see you on Friday.” With his free hand, he grabbed the coat hanging from his chair and left, slamming the door on his way out.

Was that the real Yoonoh?

A shiver ran down your spine. What had you gotten into? From what you'd seen, it was only about time he would show his true self to you as well.

All the trust you'd built up during the day, had crumbled down in a matter of seconds. The worst part? You didn't even feel entitled to be scared, not after all he'd done for you.

‘Just keep your distance.’ You repeated like a mantra as you got ready for bed, leaving the book you'd borrowed right where he'd left it, afraid it would burn your fingertips even with the slightest touch.

(...)

The week wasn't nearly as long as you'd wanted it to be, and soon enough, you were struggling to zip the dress you'd bought days ago. Your makeup was done, and Yoonoh had texted you he was on his way, yet, you'd been fighting with the zipper for at least ten minutes. Your fingers were cramping, and the clock was ticking.

Just when you'd finally started to drag the small piece of metal, the doorbell startled you, causing you to let go of it.

“Fuck!” Have you ever felt so desperate that tears start pricking your eyes? Well, that was the exact case happening at the moment.

You opened the door with the salty water collecting at the corner of your eyes, surprising Yoonoh, who was wearing his best dimply smile.

“What’s wrong?” He had a bouquet poorly hidden behind his back, probably to apologize for the night he abruptly left and almost knocked down your door.

“I-I can't zip up my dress.” Your voice came out shaky, giving away the emotions burning your gut. Thankfully, Yoonoh didn't seem to notice, and if he did, he didn't mention it.

“I’ll help you.” He, not-so-discretely, put down the bouquet, gently turning you around to your discomfort. His cold hands touched your back as he dragged the zip up, noticing how tense you were but deciding not to comment on it. “Oh! You haven't moved the book from where I left it.”

“I haven't had time to read.” He hummed, crouching to reach for the bouquet and hand it to you. “Thank you.”

“It’s my way of apologizing for the fit I threw a couple of days ago.” A fit? That was one way to call it.

“It’s okay.” You lied as you pushed the corners of your lips to form a credible smile. “Let’s get going.”

The flowers were left on the kitchen counter before you left. The ride in the elevator was awfully quiet, and Yoonoh had no idea what had happened. You were so chatty the last time he saw you, so of course, he was taken aback by the sudden change.

“It’s not going to take long, so we can head out for some drinks later if you'd like...” You nodded, for you knew speaking would only expose your discomfort. “Is everything alright?”

“Yeah! Just nervous about the party, that's all.”

You stood by Yoonoh’s side for the rest of the evening, smiling and nodding at his acquaintances’ comments. At one point in the evening, a man, not much older than you, approached you both with a wide smile.

“Dude, I hadn't seen you in ages. Stop sending your workers and come see me yourself.” They hugged. Why were they hugging?

“Y/n, this is my brother, Sungchan.” The man with puppy-like eyes embraced you tightly, almost as if welcoming you to his family. “Sungchan, this is y/n, my girlfriend.” He said it so naturally, it’d take a detective to figure out the truth about your relationship.

“I’ve heard a lot about you. I'm sorry for your father. But don't worry, we'll take those bastards down.”

“I’m not following...” You blinked repeatedly, eyes going back and forth between Yoonoh and his brother.

“Sungchan is a doctor. I asked him to look at your father's case for further evidence. My assistant was supposed to pick up the report the day we had dinner, but she forgot to drop by. Now we’re a day behind schedule.” The dark cloud surrounding him seemed to be slowly dissipating as you heard his explanation. “This is an important case, and I want to be as meticulous as possible.”

Thank you didn't seem the right thing to say at the moment, at least not with Sungchan standing there, so you simply grabbed his hand, squeezing it to let him know how grateful you were.

To your surprise, he didn't even flinch as he locked your hands together, causing a small giggle from Sungchan.

“Okay, love birds, I'll get going.” He waved you goodbye, making his way to another table where his friend waited for him.

“Can we talk?” You whispered in his ear, afraid one of the numerous attendants would hear you.

“Sure.” Without letting go of your hand, he drove you to a small, private garden just outside the ballroom. “Are you gonna tell me what's wrong now?” His thumb caressed your knuckles with gentle strokes.

“I’m so sorry.”

“What for?”

“I pushed you away at the minimum trouble when you were only helping me.” He hummed as if he already knew about it. “And it will probably happen again, so please, be patient with me. I'm going through-” Your face collided against his chest as his arms draped over your shoulders, squeezing you tightly.

“Call me reckless, but I've wanted to do this for a while.” Your hands hung at the sides of your torso, unsure what to do next. “You can push me away, I'll understand...”

Instead, your palm found its place in his back, rubbing up and down the designer jacket. Your hair started turning messy from the night breeze, some strands striking Yoonoh’s chin as his embrace only grew tighter.

“Let’s get out of here.” He mumbled, crawling the back of your head with his hand. “Sungchan can deal with my father's friends.”

“Are you sure?” His hum vibrated through his chest, making you giggle at the odd feeling.

Once seated in his car, his hand found yours like a magnet, the warmth emanating from it comfortably enveloping your skin.

The calmness of the atmosphere was interrupted by a call from his brother, who seemed to be anxiously explaining something through the phone.

“Just tell him I had a work emergency.” With that said, he hung up, placing his hand back again on top of yours. “Sorry, he said it was urgent.”

“It’s okay.” An unsettling feeling pinched your stomach, but you decided to dismiss it, immersed in the chilly weather of the dark streets.

You arrived at the river, where Yoonoh asked you to wait for him while he bought a couple of beers. It was a sight to see, both of you clad in fancy clothes, barefoot and chugging down can after can.

“I think I like being with you.” You declared, mind fuzzy from the alcohol intake.

“I think I like it too.” The tips of his ears were rosy, revealing he was as intoxicated as you, maybe even more.

“Would you like to visit my father with me tomorrow?” The words flew out of your mouth before you could even realize. Afraid you'd killed the mood, you tried to excuse yourself, only to be interrupted by his lips grazing your ear, placing a timid kiss on your lobe.

“I’d love to.” It was the sweetest peck, no ulterior motives behind it, just pure affection.

“Are we going too fast?” In your drunken state, what you had felt like a real relationship, not a simple agreement. And this sure felt like a first date.

“We’re moving at our own pace, I believe.” He dropped his head on your shoulder, pressing against it to relieve the dizziness clouding his mind. “Are you okay with that? Maybe you don't want to be with an old creep like me, and I'd totally get it. Just don't let me get my hopes up if that's the case.”

“You might be old, but definitely not a creep.” Your fingers combed through his abundant hair as your mind wandered into the future, grateful for the fact that he wouldn't become bald soon. “Or are you?”

“I don't think so.” Anyone who walked by would've seen a couple of goofs, too intoxicated to talk without slurring the words, but you were living in your own, comfy bubble. “I should get you home before it gets too late. Come on, I'll call a driver.” He tried getting on his feet to no avail, stumbling back a little before falling back on his ass.

“My apartment is nearby. You can stay for the night.” You grabbed both pairs of shoes as his arm surrounded your shoulder for assistance. “If you keep supporting your whole weight on me, we're both gonna fall.” People on the street shot you a couple of funny looks, which was understandable since it wasn't usual to see two drunk idiots walking barefoot in the middle of the night.

“How long till-” Hiccup. “-we get there?” His stare seemed to worsen with every step. “God, I think I might throw up.”

“Stop acting like a teenager, we're almost there.”

As soon as you arrived at the small apartment, you sat him down on the little step where you changed your shoes. You left both pairs on the rack, proceeding to put on slippers to enter the house.

“Don’t leave me here!” He whined, stomping his feet like a little kid.

“Just wait for a second!” His attitude was starting to get on your nerves to the point where you couldn't feel the effects of the beer anymore.

You grabbed a rag from the kitchen cabinet and dampened it under the sink. Yoonoh was half asleep when you walked back to him.

“My head hurts.” He mumbled as you sat in front of him, placing his left foot on your lap. “What are you doing?”

“I don't have any slippers that will fit you, and I don't want your dirty feet making my house dirty.” With utmost delicacy, you wiped away the dirt from his toes, noticing the small scratches caused by the gravel he walked on.

He touched your hair while you finished with his other foot, tangling the strands with fascination.

“Done, get up.”

He followed your indications as you guided him to your room, where you laid him down on his side in case he threw up.

“Are we visiting your father tomorrow?” He asked while snuggling under the covers.

“Sure.” You cleared his forehead from the strands falling in it, grazing the soft skin of his forehead. “Sweet dreams, gigantic baby.”

[interact-if]

Day 5 of the interviews! let’s give it up for Ligia! :chinhands:

Ligia, author of Love the Guard, Be the King

Latino Heritage Month Featured Author

Mathias' heart has been bleeding since his father, the former King, decided to punish you for his mistakes. As the youngest child of a lesser bourgeois, you were raised in the castle, between the King’s cruelty, the Queen’s friendship, and  Mathias’s kindness (or supposed kindness?).

Now, more than twenty Carnivals since your arrival, the King is dead and the Queen’s sickness  worsens each day. As the azure taint spreads in the kingdom and the Opalean Wars come to an end, it’s Mathias’s time to sit on the throne.

Will the docile Prince become a kind King, a violent Monarch, or a ruthless Tyrant? Will you have any say in it? And how much will your relationship change?

Love the Guard, Be the King Demo | Author’s Kofi | Read more [here]

Tags: historical, romance

(INTERVIEW TRANSCRIPT UNDER THE CUT)

Q1: So, tell us a little bit about the projects you’re working on!

With pleasure! Right now, I’m working on three main projects. My personal Visual Novel project, “Love the Guard, Be the King,” a second Visual Novel I’ve been secretly working on with a good friend for the past 10 months or so, and I also have an ongoing book series about hot, quirky supervillains—but I’ll focus only on the first two cause that’s what we’re here for, right? Hahaha.

LtGBtK is a really intimist experience, focused more on the MC’s and RO’s character arcs and how we can change depending on our experiences and how we feel about them. The entire plot happens in only four days, but it takes into account almost 30 years of history—basically Mathias’s (the only RO) entire life!

“Crystal Library” has mystery, romance, magic, 6 ROs, and a ton of memorable scenes already. I’m working on the graphics and the programming for this one, while Coco Nichole (@dreamybard), one of my favorite writers ever, is the brilliant mind behind the plot and all of CL’s characters! I can’t wait to share this one with you all. Romance is optional in both. :)

Q2: What excites you most about using interactive fiction? What are some of the biggest challenges?

What I LOVE and FEAR about all types of interactive fiction is how it invites players to, on a much deeper level, be part of the narrative. When reading books, we all work hard to translate beautiful sentences and scenes into images in your head. We interact with it, yes, but when playing IFs, we also explore the narrative in a different way; we have so much more agency over what happens! We sometimes have different paths to choose from, beautiful illustrations to unlock, or character traits that change depending on our choices… it’s amazing, and, IMO, it’s a very unique way to experience narratives.

But it’s also very complex, very demanding, and it can easily get out of hand if you give the players too many options/branches to follow, mainly when working with small teams or, in my case for LtGBtK, alone. *takes a deep breath* I just hope I’m doing a good job. .-.

Q3: What has been something in your project you’ve had to do a weird amount of research for?

Besides programming lol basically everything. For LtGBtK, I’m trying to create this weird fantasy with a modern-medieval society (?), so I’m constantly researching medieval customs, traditions, tools, and weirdly specific stuff like socks. Did people wear socks in the medieval era? What were their playing cards made of? When was ice cream invented? How did they shave? How did kids become knights? What were their perfumes made of? And soaps? What did they eat? How different was their wine? And what kind of materials or slang or fabrics can I use, and what can I change without completely breaking immersion?

 And then I shove all that into a pot and adapt it to a world where Mathias can literally put the world on fire with a wave of his hands. ♥

Q4: Which of your characters is most like you? How?

I think I’m a mix of them all, but mainly Mandra and Rafa (one of my main characters in my supervillain books). They have wildly different personalities and stories, but those two have clear views of the kind of person they want to be, they’re not afraid of their soft sides, and they are ready to work hard to become good at what they love. Rafa has a specially strong connection to her brother, like my siblings and I, and Mand is often locked in an eternal state of wanting to be alone and wanting to be surrounded by family/loved ones, so I guess we meet there too!

Q5: Does your heritage influence your characters as you create them? (How? Why or why not?)

Yes! There are the very basic ways, like habits, names, food, family dynamics, settings (mainly in my books, which are all very Brazilian), and Holidays. And then there’s a more personal way that I’m not entirely sure I can explain because I lived in Brazil for 28 years, and I’m not sure I can put that into words. The classics of our literature are different, Art, architecture, and music developed differently, my country was violently colonized and still faces the results of that violence (including but not limited to structural racism, classism, misogyny etc), I learned some Capoeira in my physical education class at school, we call non-Brazilians “gringos,” and so on. This is my normal, and this is what my characters would see as normal too, because I don’t know any different.

At the very core, all my characters are influenced by my country’s history, by our relationship with other countries, and by the values my parents taught me, passed down to them by my Indigeous-Spanish-Portuguese-German foremothers/fathers. :P

The main, more palpable way my heritage influences my characters, though, is through humor and theme. I think Brazilians have a very specific, sharp, and often very smart kind of humor that, IMO, stems from the type of history our country has, and the way we look at life, sometimes translating pain into humor. As for themes, I usually write about what makes me angry... and there’s a lot in Brazil’s history and modern society that causes me that. :)

But all I know for sure is that I want to show the world Brazilians are much more than samba and soccer.

 Q6: What is something you love to see in interactive fiction?

Other people! In the same way I add my history and worldview to my creations, I always approach stories thinking that there’s a whole, well, history behind them. And I love that! Also, I adore choices that feel impactful + good friendships and family relationships + soft romances with mutual respect. ♥

Q7: Any advice to give?

Hmm. Be proud and celebrate who you are and where you’re from. Learning and understanding the world inside us is a life-long process, so it’s always a victory to discover new pieces of ourselves. :) Also, if you can, talk to people that come from different cultures than yours to expand your worldview, don’t be afraid to be soft (the world needs more kindness), and please study personal finance. Seriously. XD

[m42-fr]

Here’s my Lore Post™ on various types of common currency around Sorneith! Note that this covers only major forms of currency that can be found broadly throughout their territories of origin, or are otherwise culturally relevant in some way. This post does not include forms of currency that may exist between individual clans. If you happen to find that any of this worldbuilding goes well with your lore, feel free to use it so long as you credit me somewhere for the idea!

And, of course, a mandatory disclaimer: the names and lore of these currencies comes from my own head (and a random name generator). Any resemblance to anything from the real world is unintentional.

Vahrani (vah-RAH-nee) are small bronze coins that originate from the Ashfall Waste. Thanks to the Flamecaller’s ceaseless forges, vahrani are the most common and well-established metal-based currency in the world - and, in fact, are the most well-established currency in the world, period. Trade with the neighboring Windswept Plateau, which exports the products of Fire’s industry to every technologically developing region on the continent, has spread Ashfall coinage far and wide.

Most vahrani have been in circulation for decades, their surfaces oxidized completely teal-black. Pristine, metallic vahrani, either newly-minted or freshly polished, are considered a status symbol by some, but certain dragons may refuse to accept them as payment for fear that they have been recently (and illegally) forged. Vahrani jewelry makes use of the holes at their corners, stringing them together into necklaces, earrings, and other forms of decoration. In a pinch, vahrani can even be tiled together to create makeshift armor. 

Vahrani come in units of one, five, and ten. These coins bear an identical picture of the Flamecaller on one side and have a number inscribed on the other, which indicates their worth. The runoff copper from the creation of vahrani bronze is pulled into small lumps and stamped with the sigil of Fire while the metal is still hot, creating small, misshapen coins called vasi - or, in common slang, slag - each worth a tenth of a vahrani. Vasi are not nearly as widespread as vahrani, but they make up the majority of the payroll for poorer dragons within the Ashfall Waste.

--

Suuram (SOOH-ram) are long, paper-thin copper chits used as currency within the southwestern Shifting Expanse. The very first suuram were copper wires that had been pounded into rough rectangular shapes, but modern suuram are machine-punched from massive metal sheets, ensuring an incredibly consistent size and weight. The asymmetrical pattern of crescent holes at their edges is meant only to distinguish them from simple copper pieces. In practice, the holes are often used to hold chains of coins together with cord or metal clips.

There is only one value of a suuram piece. Rather than create different coins with higher values, dragons exploit the extreme thinness of suuram sheets by packing pieces into small containers; informal higher-value units consist of rectangular boxes holding a carefully-counted number of coins. Carrying around large blocks of copper sheets can become awfully inconvenient, so five-and-ten vahrani pieces have become a popular alternative currency in the Expanse. Suuram are used mostly as pocket change. 

Due to the relative geographic isolation of the far coast of the Stormcatcher’s territory, suuram are not particularly popular outside of the Shifting Expanse, and lack traction everywhere past the Charged Barrens. However, suuram are acknowledged as a valid currency in every territory with flourishing trade and worldwide connections, including the Ashfall Waste, Windswept Plateau, Sunbeam Ruins, Tangled Wood, Starfall Isles, and Dragonhome. 

The northeastern region of the Shifting Expanse is home to independent scavenger-clans who have little need for formalized currency. Rather than conducting trade with stand-ins like coins, they prefer to directly exchange goods and services, determining the value of each with every new trade. That being said, they do occasionally make use of a form of unregulated, low-value currency, colloquially known as scrap.

Scrap refers to any collection of relatively small, portable, usually worn-down and otherwise useless metal chunks - rusty nails, old gears that don’t fit anywhere, spare nuts and bolts found half-buried in the sand, weathered iron spring-coils and copper wires, and so on. While scrap has no immediate survival value, it serves much the same purpose of currency in that it acts as a metaphorical stand-in for something that is of value, and can be exchanged with others for goods and services. Scrap is considered a valid currency within the northern Expanse, although it is often looked down upon as a ‘primitive’ coin in the more technologically developed regions around Goldensparc and the Lightning Farm. 

--

Paxa (PACKS-uh) are hand-carved wooden chits infused with sparks of magic that keep them pristine even under the worst of abuse. Native to the Sunbeam Ruins, paxa owe their remarkably high value to the painstaking process of crafting them. Each coin is hand-carved to impossible standards of consistency, stained a beautiful deep ebony, and protected from damage with ancient Light artefact-preservation magicks. Their magical ‘fingerprint’ is nearly impossible to fake, which guards them from forgeries. The secret to creating paxa is zealously guarded by a handful of dragons who have dedicated their lives to the craft.

Paxa are a universally recognized coin, spread throughout the world by Light’s investment in research as well as their inherent value. Future-minded dragons convert their retirement savings into paxa, knowing that unlike many other currencies, the tight control on paxa production ensures that their value remains constant. Paxa is also the coin of choice for most illegal operations in Sorneith thanks to their high value and their impossibility to falsify. 

The average working-class dragon, even in the Ruins, will struggle to get their talons on any significant amount of paxa. Paxa are used to facilitate expensive transactions, and as such are favored by merchants, the wealthy, and the criminal; throughout most of the Sunbeam Ruins, workers are paid in vahrani, with the occasional handful of suuram thrown in for variety.

--

The origin of wek-ya, (WEK-yuh) Shadow’s mercurial coinage, is shrouded in mystery. Nobody knows when or where the first wek-ya were made - and, in fact, nobody knows how to make wek-ya at all. Ambitious blacksmiths who try their hand at smelting some are invariably struck with tides of bad luck that force them to close shop. And, moreover, the Tangled Wood can hardly be said to have an established government, so the presence of such a widespread and standardized currency is a curiosity in and of itself.

Wek-ya are crafted of pure silver, or something that resembles it. Each coin has two unique patterns - one to either side - that depict an incredibly broad array of subjects. The most common motifs are crescent moons, mushrooms, thorns, and dancing dragon figures, but there have been wek-ya known to picture oddly specific situations, such as trees being struck by lightning, rats climbing atop bookshelves, and draconic silhouettes that bear a strange resemblance to the viewer in the midst of suffering some catastrophe. Many dragons believe that wek-ya are infused with divination magic; coins are commonly drawn from bags to determine future events, and some individuals claim that their fortunes are told by the wek-ya they receive in trades. 

While wek-ya are the most common form of money in the Tangled Wood, they’re incredibly rare elsewhere. Common superstition holds that removing a wek-ya from its homeland will curse the coin’s bearer until it has been returned. There appears to be some vague truth to the statement, as the coins are known to have a way of mysteriously disappearing when they’ve spent too much time away from the Shadowbinder’s influence.

Wek-ya are capable of emitting a dim glow for several hours after being exposed to moonlight. Conversely, they’ve also been known to spontaneously melt when placed in sunlight, permanently disfiguring their faces - such coins are considered overwhelmingly taboo by most residents of the Wood and are traditionally thrown into bogs, rivers, and liquid-shadow ponds, such that they may be forever forgotten. 

--

Dazal (day-ZAHL) are large, chunky coins cut from smoky quartz. They come from Dragonhome, make for an uncommon sight in the northern Starfall Isles and Tangled Wood, and are rare elsewhere. No one institution governs the production of dazal, but most dragons don’t go out of their way to fake them - the coins are used predominantly within the handful of high-population regions of Dragonhome, particularly Terraclae and the Colonnades of Antiquity. Thanks to Light’s vested interest in archaeology, paxa are the most common currency in Dragonhome’s urbanized regions, followed by the eponymous vahrani.

Unlike suuram, which are largely shunned by Lightning’s more independent desert-dwelling clans, the value of dazal is respected by clans among even the most rural and harsh environments of Dragonhome. Most groups will carry at least a handful of them to use in trades - a few dazal will buy a weary traveler water and other goods. The nomadic routes of the Snappers often bring them to urban areas every now and again, which makes holding onto the currency useful, if occasionally burdensome. 

    The distribution of colors and patterns in a dazal is unique to every coin. Dazal have no varied values in a legal sense, but many individuals within Dragonhome will accept morion dazal - that is, those made of smoky quartz so uniformly dark as to be nearly black - as being worth twice as much as a singular dazal (or equivalent to one wek-ya). Some seek out dazal with unusual color schemes for collection purposes. Another commonly-sought variant is a coin without any scuffs; though crystalline, most older dazal are ridden with chips and cracks. 

--

The Sea of a Thousand Currents has no legally recognized currency. The stinging seawater makes metal-based money impractical, and even the magical toughness of paxa and arcslivers will wear under the waves. Among the more isolated, aquatic clans, though, an informal coin known as vanes (VAIN) are used in some transactions. Vanes are seashells that have been chipped and polished into glistening, guitar-pick shaped chits.

The production, distribution, and value of vanes is entirely unregulated. Any dragon with strong hands and sandpaper can collect seashells and file them to the right shape and smoothness. As such, individual vanes vary widely in color, texture, and shape. The value of a vane is equally variable - no bank in the world accepts vanes as legal tender, although they are acknowledged as being incredibly low-value, presuming they have any worth at all. 

Bags of vanes are often exchanged by coastal and reef-dwelling clans as stand-ins for the payment of debt. If an individual needs a good or service, but cannot pay for it at the time, they can hand over some vanes that serve as a sort of credit, later giving something of real value in return for their lent vanes.

Among the roughshod sailors of the Sea, bilgespray is a tawdry term used to refer to any collective mix of multiple types of currency. The wide variety of territories that they visit throughout their trading routes means that they inevitably collect a number of different types of coin. The term, ‘bilgespray,’ usually refers to a singular payout given in more than one type of currency, but used more broadly may account for any messy assortment of multiple types of money.

--

Popular within the urban areas of the central Starfall Isles, arcslivers (ARK-slih-vur) are tokens cut from the same magically-refined arcglass that makes up the shell of the Astrolodome. Their edges are inscribed with faintly-glowing runes that, like paxa, protect them from damage, although their enchantments are comparatively weaker. The appearance and value of an arcsliver is standardized; their production is controlled by banks within the Astrolodome and neighboring communities.

Well-wrought trading routes have established arcslivers as a valid currency throughout the entirety of the Isles. However, they have very little steading outside of Arcane’s territory. Similar to suuram, geographic isolation has kneecapped their spread, with traveling arcslivers found mostly in the neighboring regions of Dragonhome and the Windswept Plateau; a handful make their way to the Sea of a Thousand Currents and beyond from there. Though rare, they are legally acknowledged in institutions around Sorneith. 

--

Given the extremely well-connected, trade-focused culture of the Windswept Plateau, every currency - even strange or worthless ones, like wek-ya and vanes - can be found in abundance among Windsinger’s children. Vahrani from the neighboring Ashfall Waste are the most common coin, followed by paxa and arcslivers. Wind does not have a traditional currency in the way that other territories do. Rather than use a standardized object to represent physical value, Wind’s unusual currency holds strictly social value. These objects are called kuo (KOO-oh). They are long, ribbonlike textiles, made from hundreds of tiny interwoven beads, and are as much art as they are money.

The length of an individual kuo can vary considerably. Most are long enough to be used as sashes and belts, or be hung up as colorful banners. The harvesting, sculpting, weaving, and painting of their miniscule beads takes a painstaking amount of time and skill. As a monetary system, they indicate debts, allegiances, and other forms of social ‘money,’ whether paid or owed. The perceived value of a kuo is usually based on its size and craftsmanship - the longer and prettier, the better.

    While more rural and traditional clans will use kuo for their original purpose, younger generations - particularly those living in more urbanized areas - forgo the social value of kuo and create them for artistic purposes. The creation of an individual kuo ribbon is considered a long and meditative pastime. The patterns in every ribbon are unique, and the abundance of beads and paints mean that elaborate images can be threaded along the strings; given the extensive length of most kuo, many are used to depict the events of stories, be they mythical or factual. The longest kuo is rumored to be a ribbon that stretches the distance of the Cloudsong and depicts an embellished version of the Windswept Plateau’s entire history. 

In recent times, dragons have begun to weave kuo as gifts and decorations. Many young lovers and best friends will create kuo for one another, its pictures personalized to the other’s interests and personality, and wear the bands that they themselves were given (usually as scarves, sashes, or bracelets) in an open declaration of their bond. Kuo are becoming an increasingly popular export of the Windswept Plateau. Eager to share their culture with the world, Wind dragons often sell and gift kuo to travelers, and some have even begun to export them to other territories. 

--

The rough, lonesome barrens of the Southern Icefield makes the establishment of currency incredibly difficult. Like other harsh environments in Sorneith - the Shifting Expanse, Dragonhome, the Scarred Wasteland, and so on - coins are not particularly useful for immediate survival, and so trades are preferentially conducted with goods and services rather than coins. Northernmost or otherwise trade-savvy clans may occasionally cut deals with foreigners using vahrani, arcslivers, and even suuram.

The ancient institutions of the Gaolers, for all their fervence with law and order, never had reason to establish an expansive currency amongst themselves. The basic needs of all individuals are cared for free of charge; anything fancier is either owned communally, acquired by advancing in rank, or traded for without monetary stand-ins. Among a few circles, though - and particularly popular in teaching discipline to younger recruits - is a token system using units called snowcoins.

Snowcoins are very simple constructions. At their core is a singular link of a metal chain, which is encapsulated in magically-unmelting ice. The surface of a snowcoin is smooth and convex, forming an oblong shape not unlike a river stone, and they are remarkably translucent. Snowcoins, then, are a small reward earned through various services and good behavior, and can be traded in for small personal luxuries. The things snowcoins can buy consist mostly of curios and other decorative trinkets. 

Given that snowcoins are used only by the Gaolers, their existence is almost completely unheard of throughout Sorneith, even in the neighboring Snowsquall Tundra. Only a tiny handful have ever made it out of the Icefield - and even then, most of those found away from the Icewarden are replicas, not genuine. Those who are in possession of snowcoins usually regard them as oddities and collectibles. They hold some mildly curious historic value, but little else. 

--

For all their hatred for one another, the territories of the Scarred Wasteland and Viridian Labyrinth share a similar trait: neither has much in the way of currency. The Labyrinth prizes self-sufficiency and its clans want for little. Their isolationist nature has created a strict limitation on the influx of foreign currency - not even vahrani have made it past their coastal regions. Those from Nature who detest outside influence often use the derogatory term rootmuck to refer to any form of outside currency.

While Plague has a similar lack of established money, they don’t hold the same wariness of foreigners that the Gladekeeper’s children do. Most Plague clans see no reason in shunning something that may help them acquire useful things in the future. Various currencies are common at their respective borders - dazal in the north, wek-ya in the east, vahrani to the south, and arcslivers to the west. 

That being said, their central clans, much like those of the northwestern Shifting Expanse, trade mostly survival supplies with one another. Guttergunk is an informal term from the Wasteland that applies to any assortment of individually worthless items that are bundled together to have some collective value. Guttergunk is not anything that could keep you alive; it’s made of things like small trophies - teeth, scales, horns -, the last of old food preserves, tattered pieces of canvas, balls of string, and so forth. Trade offers of guttergunk are considered trashy, greedy, or desperate; in other words, a sign of either arrogance or weakness, perhaps both.

Alternatively, the term may apply to anything considered gross and worthless: “Your efforts are guttergunk,” is an example of a common insult. The word has become popular in neighboring territories, particularly by residents of the Driftwood Drag and sailors of the Sea of a Thousand Currents, and among them it has much the same meaning.

[all-things-fic]

Rekindled

A/N: Firstly, I want to say a massive thank you to everyone who nominated me as November Author of the Month. I wasn’t expecting that at all and it was a lovely surprise!  Secondly, here is Rekindled. Hope you all enjoy it!

This was originally meant to be for @majorharry​‘s 20k challenge, but I failed on that front. It’s a long one so grab yourself a brew / beverage of choice and get comfy!

I’m about to disappear again as I usually do and start working on my Christmas fic, as well as those Quarantine Harry updates.

Tonight had started out like any other Saturday evening. 

You had been out with friends. Cosy little pub off a cobbled backstreet, in a secluded corner. Very British. Very cramped. All old wood and leather bound seats. The slight smell of stale beer in the air and plenty of chatter that sometimes had you shouting to ensure the friend sitting two people away from you was able to hear. 

This was a pub that you frequented for quite a while now. A pub that made it so some in your friendship group could grab a proper ale, while others opted for more of a fruity alcoholic beverage. A real all rounder. Did a nice roast on Sunday - eat in or takeout, choice was yours - for a reasonable price by London’s standards. 

The minute he had walked in, you had noticed him. You could recognise his hunched shoulders anywhere. Forever silently willing him to stand up straight and embrace the way his height made him tower over some of his friends. Rather than have him try and make himself smaller. Part of you believed it was to buy him time so he wouldn’t get noticed whenever he knew he was going to be in particular place for longer than an hour.

He had been joined by a male friend. Someone you also knew quite well. Someone who you had seen quite recently actually. An art showing over at Cob Gallery being the reason for your meeting which hadn’t happened too long ago. You remembered the invite being shoved through your letterbox, a far cry from when he used to shunt you a quick text and write your name at the bottom of the guest list using Sam’s kohl eyeliner on the evening of the event itself.

You’d taken the piss out of him that afternoon, a quick phone call telling him that he was “no longer the Tomo Campbell I know”. 

That had been two weeks ago. So, you knew it would be rude of either you, or him, to not acknowledge the other. And you knew he would be the one to cave in. 

And you were right.

Tomo’s friendly brown eyes had glanced at you one too many times, over Harry’s shoulder for him to not give you - or anyone else who may have made the meeting slightly awkward - away. 

The continuous trailing of his gaze had in fact caused Harry to chuckle awkwardly, joking at how he wouldn’t let Sam know of his wandering eye as they shared a night on the town. The joke fell short though, as did his chuckle, when at the last glance over Harry twisted his body around to see what all the fuss was about as he leaned against the bar and let his eyes fall onto yours.

You broke his gaze, reaching forward for your balloon glass full of gin and pressed your face as far into it as possible. A feeling filled you that made you hope the hot flush you felt underneath your skin hadn’t started to give away your unnecessary panic. 

See things with you and Harry hadn’t ended badly. In fact, it was more like a fizzle. A bit like the sweet that pops against your tongue. Sometimes you enjoyed it and other times it was unfulfilling, some would say annoying. The latter explained the ending.

No big fights. No fat, hot tears rolling down cheeks. No loss of voices from slanging matches and screaming until the early hours. It just... Ended. 

That fizzle was what made it amicable. You both breaking it off to go and do your own thing. Neither openly keeping up to date with the other, but still absolutely aware of what was going on. In your case that was a lot easier, in his not so much. However, Harry somehow managed to master the art of leading questions without seeming too much of a beg with mutual friends.  

As he looked on at you taking the longest sip from your drink, he had smiled awkwardly before he allowed his eyes to roam the scene of your group of friends and tried to analyse what met his gaze. A group of eight, men heavily outweighing the women with their five to your genders three. 

He would definitely class himself a liar if he was asked about where his mind had gone, and he said that it hadn’t gone to queries around relationship statuses and potential partnerships with any of the men around the table.

He eyed them, all five of them. Definitely wasn’t the guy three people away, neither was it the guy sat diagonally opposite you. They were blonde, definitely not your type. Well, blondes hadn’t been your type the last time he had been between your legs.

His eyes had been zoned in on the guy that had his back facing him, he wasn’t sitting directly opposite you. Instead he was seated in the opposite seat, but one. Better positioning for someone who wanted to obtain a cheeky glance and still be inconspicuous to the group around him.

“I’m gonna have to go and say hello,” Tomo pulled Harry out of his trance, his eyes lifting up from the beer mat that he had been tapping agitatedly against the bar top once he’d turned away from the scene. 

“‘S fine wi’me, mate,” Harry softly smiled, reaching for his drink and taking a large sip. 

“Come an’ get it over with, H.” 

Harry had quietly eyed Tomo after his open ended suggestion of joining him. His eyes slightly sceptical at the proposal but somehow his legs took over his decision making as he trudged behind his artist friend and got introduced to those faces he didn’t know and acknowledged the ones that he did.

Pulling up a pew at the table had been a lot easier for Harry than he had expected. Dragging the wooden stool to sit himself in between you and the guy to his right, who he now knew to be Conor and the person he really wanted to know the name of was Joe. Joe was a wanker- well, banker. Same difference, right? 

Conversation wasn’t always smooth sailing. The larger group helped however. Also helped him get his moments with you and you with him. Moments that neither of you had known you needed before being sat with his knee brushing yours, due to how cramped your table had suddenly become. 

And it was sweltering now. The bare knee of your ripped jeans, knocking against Harry’s bare knee from his ripped jeans as he edged himself closer to the table wanting to catch what the topic of conversation was down at the easily the “laddier” end of the table. 

Harry had fit right in. Of course his demeanour changed with certain people. Those he had already been in the presence of those years previous were immediately hit with morbid delivery and sarcastic humour, while others were met with his sometimes hard to crack shell. 

And like always as the night had gone on the crowd had tapered off. Some had decided to go onto a club, an offering your declined not wanting to spend the night with people rubbing up against you and feeling like one of the oldest people in the room.

Some of your friends had gone back to their other commitments, like Tomo who made it quite clear he didn’t want to miss his “curfew” that Sam had given him considering he was the one on swimming lesson duty in the morning. 

That ended up leaving you and Harry. Surprisingly a pairing that you hadn’t expected to happen that evening and even more surprising, one that you weren’t particularly dreading.

You knew it had something to do with the gin, and definitely had something to do with the tequila. 

Part of you was thankful for the less than responsible drinking habits you had taken that evening. It allowed you to remain calm as your ex-boyfriend sat across from you looking like time was on his side and aging was being kind to him.

It was definitely being kinder to him than it was to you, anyway. 

Bastard. 

Conversation had been a mixture of light and heavy. Harry showing you a series of different pictures he had taken on his travels as he jetset around the world with his album and his modelling contract (that he adamantly assured you wasn’t a modelling contract), and basically just his very healthy bank balance.

The heavy had been you bitching about the contract project you had been working on and asking him if he would be willing to potentially commit a serious crime with you against one of your colleagues. He’d quipped he probably wasn’t suitable but he was sure he knew a guy. 

At one point, his eyes had dropped down to your pedicured toes in your black strappy heels. When he managed to drag his eyes away for your feet,  and rested his chin on the inside heel of his palm, you knew he wanted to say something. 

“‘M pretty sure we have matching pedis,” he groused, voice so low that if you hadn’t been watching his mouth you wouldn’t have caught a word of what he had just said.

Eyes flicking up to his green gaze, you saw the light shimmering through them. Clearly he was amused by your expression of shock and potential bemusement from his statement.

“Sod off,” you chided, pushing gently at his arm. “You’re joking.”

“‘M not darl-“ he cut himself off with a clear of his throat. “‘M not, an’ if yer lucky later I might take m’socks off to prove it an’all.”

“Not sure if I like the insinuation of there being a later.” You paused for a small amount of time, before adding, “Nor the confidence in how you said it.” 

“God loves a trier and so did you, once.” 

He eyed you from the corner of his vision, mouth wrapped around the lip of his glass as he knocked back what was left of the alcoholic contents inside. 

You were sure he hadn’t meant to let that one slip but there was no way he was going to let his expression give him away and silently confirm with you that thought. 

How had the two of you picked up as if you hadn’t missed a beat? 

“You never did mind me keeping them on though, did yer?”

That was enough to break his gaze. To cause a silence you didn’t know how to fill. To suddenly make you feel incredibly parched as if you hadn’t been necking gin after gin, all evening. 

“How yer getting ‘ome?”

His question cut through it all. His voice of concern, matching his watchful gaze as he looked up at you from the empty glass he had begun twirling on the mahogany wood. 

“Was just gonna Uber it back.”

“‘M a fifteen minute walk from ‘ere, d’ya know tha’?”

“I do know that,” you acknowledged, eyes looking over at him and seeing the way his hair had begun to curl close to his temples from the way he perspired in the heat of the pub. 

“‘Course you do. Done that walk a fair few times ain’t we?”

You hummed. The feeling of your lips lifting into a soft smile at the memories of the two of you walking hand in hand through the dark London streets. Harry with his head down, trying to look inconspicuous. Also, so he could watch his feet and try his best not to trip up over them. 

The times he’d done that thing you loved. Where he would forgo holding your hand and instead walk slightly behind you with his arm wrapped around your shoulder and across the top of your chest. His lips heavy against your hair as he hid his face and chuckled breathily against the shell of your ear when he hadn’t been watching his feet and indeed, tripped. It was always inevitable. 

“So wha’s another nigh’?”

And really what was another night? Other than potentially a messy morning. 

Not before long you were wrapping the chain handle of your bag across your body and tottering out of the booth you had occupied all night. 

Silently you had battled with yourself as to whether you should use the bathroom, but didn’t think you needed it considering how you hadn’t had the rush of pressure usually felt when you were really desperate to relieve yourself.

Shame the feeling didn’t last as you felt a huge gust of cold wind, thanks to London autumn air, washing over you. 

With your arms folded around your body as you walked, you tried your best to shield yourself as the lights of passing cars hurt your tired eyes. Harry had been talking to you about all sorts of rubbish, filling in the gaps of dead air that weren’t taken up by the noise around your both.

“My shoes are going to be fucking ruined,” you grumbled, hearing the sound of muddy stones clacking and crunching underneath your heels. 

Harry chuckled at your obvious disdain, keeping himself close to you in the dimly lit area. The stride to his walk was confident, a little more power behind it than unsteady. He had consumed drinks, but not enough that he didn’t realise how close both he and you were to his home.

As you walked, your eyes surveyed the area. A group of people were getting closer, a few hoods lifted making it hard for you to figure out their make up. 

Before you could give yourself time to think, you unravelled your folded arms and reached down for Harry’s hand. 

“Think we could cross here,” you spoke, a chatter to your voice both from the cold and this unusual anxious feeling. Your eyes darted over the road, left and right before you turned as the group approached you. 

A boisterous boom of laughter left one of the groups mouth, causing you to sharply look back down the street. The grip of Harry’s hand against yours changed, his fingers taking your traditional hand hold to one of interlocking digits. 

He felt moved by the way you appeared to still hold the desire to be protective over him. 

“‘M alrigh’,” he pulled you to him, using his hand and causing you to turn your front and press into his side. “Jus’ let ‘em pass us.”

You silently nodded.

“‘S just a couple’a lads walking ‘ome after a night out,” he mumbled. “‘S all it is. You’re alright.” 

This feeling felt foreign as you felt a tightness in your chest while you stood still with him in the middle of the street. You hadn’t expected to feel any sort of hesitation but you, like everyone else, had heard about the incident which had taken place with him. Virtually on the doorstep of his own home too.

Harry offering you comfort and reassurance just as quick as you were to do so for him, had you finding a weird source of strength and confidence. He welcomed the pressing of your forehead to his cheek, knowing if he tilted his head slightly his lips could brush so tenderly against your forehead, your temple. He would most likely get a smell of your shampoo, wondering if you still used the same as before. 

The grip of his hand loosened against yours, his clammy palm, which felt soothingly warm, ran up against the long sleeve of your top. It curled around your neck, holding you securely to him, before he wrapped his arm around you.

Then he dropped his lips, them pressing to your temple and then lower to your cheekbone. He lingered, his breathing slightly quivered as the noise from the group got louder. 

You lifted your head slightly, Harry rearing up just in time to ensure you didn’t headbutt him. His chin was soft as he looked down at you; it took the edge off. His eyes were manic as they moved, there was no mistaking it but everything else about him came off so calm. 

He blew out his shaky sigh, causing you to dart your eyes over his and gently push up onto your tiptoes in your heels to softly kiss his lips. You knew he wasn’t expecting it, you didn’t even know what you were doing before you did it. Yet, you relaxed the minute he drew you even closer using the arm he had curled around your upper back to hold you close.

A wolf whistle caused you to smile against his lips, as he did the same. His gentle breathy laugh bouncing against your lips as he chanced it and pressed pecks against your lips in quick succession. 

“Evening lads,” Harry nodded his head once he came up for air, making sure he got a good look of two of them and making sure they knew that he had. They cheered in praise at the two of you and your public display, threw out a couple of slightly lewd and alcohol fused comments at the scene. One even going as far as to take the red and white striped scarf from around his neck and whip it furiously above his head. “Someone’s ‘appy. The Arsenal must’ve ‘ad a win.”

You nodded as you eyed them, completely embarrassed by the way you had misread a group of loud football fans for violent thugs. You weren’t necessarily far wrong, but still. 

Chattering teeth caused Harry to pull you close to him. “Let's get you in before you catch your death.” 

***

Shoes had been left at the door. 

The aching balls of your feet grateful for the cool wooden flooring and curling into the luxurious fabric of the rugs currently beneath them. 

You’d watched as Harry toed off his obscenely dirty Vans, and walked ahead of you towards the back of the house. The place where his envious lounge and open plan kitchen could be found.

Harry’s home had this way of being welcoming, no matter how long it had been since you had last graced its presence. You assumed he’d made it this way for a reason, especially when that reason was his way of life. Leaving for long periods of time to then return again, to pick right up where he had left off. 

And in many ways, that was how you felt about the current situation. 

Handbag now discarded at your feet, you sat with your side resting against the back of Harry’s teal velvet couch. Surrounded by expensive scatter cushion after expensive scatter cushion, a collection he had amassed during your time apart. 

He was playing the playlist. Not just any playlist, the playlist. The one he would always turn on, volume low, so it was more of a hum than anything else after you’d gotten back from a night on the tiles and fancied a night cap. 

You didn’t need to zone in on the sounds. It so happened that you had heard the playlist so many times before that you didn’t need to have it blasting through the speakers to know the track list. It was burned into your brain and would be for a very long time.

The worst thing of all was that he knew. He just knew. 

His lips had taken on this quirk. Slightly upturned more so on one side of his face than another as he stood at the kitchen island, feeling your eyes watch him as he put together his perfected cheese on toast supper.

It was an offer you couldn’t refuse. A large glass of Cabernet Sauvignon held loosely in your hand as you whispered along to the song playing in the background, mouth watering at the thought of the carby goodness Harry was preparing for you both under the grill of his oven.

The smell that filled your senses was delightful and exactly what you needed to soak up the alcohol you had previously consumed, never mind the alcohol you were about to. 

“Do you want any brown sauce on yours, or ketchup?” You heard him talk louder as the tray he’d been cooking on clattered against his oven hob. 

You stayed silent as you watched him, tea towel over his shoulder as he plated up your toast while his mouth barely sang along to the playlist. Gently lifting the bread off the grill before letting it drop quickly from his grip to the plate because of how hot it was. 

He looked up at you from under his brow, hair fallen into a middle part around his face. His eyes enjoyed the way your legs had curled up beneath you as you rested your right cheek onto your hand and fondly watched him.

You seemed relaxed to him, albeit amused. 

“Don’t even think about laughing at me when ‘m cooking for you.”

You smiled - cheese on toast was hardly cooking - pulling your glass of wine to your lips and taking a sip. “Don’t know why you don’t just get a knife and fork, you numpty.”

“Saves on the washing up doing it this way,” he winced as he dropped another slice to the second plate. 

“And makes you lose your fingerprints in the process.

Harry shook his head as he pressed his thumb to his lips and licked the sore burn, before he gently blew against it. “Never did answer my question,” he reminded, wiping his hands on the towel thrown over his shoulder.

“Ketchup’s fine. Ta.”

Watching him reach across for the bottle of Heinz, you saw him squirt the sauce onto your plate and then saw him do the same to his own. 

Seemingly happy with his work, he whipped the towel off his shoulder and to the side, before scooping up the two plates and striding over to you with ease. 

“Voila,” he spoke, offering you the answer to your predicted hangover prayers, in cheese on toast form.

Reaching forward, you gently took the plate off his hands with both of yours and let your eyes drop down to the melted goodness. Keeping your eyes down you took in the decoration that Harry had added. He’d taken to drawing a smiley face onto the top of the cheese using the ketchup.

“You’re such a silly sod sometimes,” you spoke, lifting your eyes as you watched him drop down onto the couch next to you and get himself comfortable.

Legs up on the coffee table in front of him, almost horizontal with his plate gently resting atop his rounded stomach. Head tipped back and vision lazy, his lips tilted up into a crooked smile as he looked over at you. 

“‘S it okay?”

“Looks it,” you replied, lifting up the toast and taking the biggest bite you could muster. Your nose came into contact with some sauce from your hunger-driven vigour. “Proof is in the tasting though, I s’pose,” you continued, mouth full and covered by your hand to avoid him seeing the chewed up contents. 

You hummed as you closed your eyes, enjoying the taste of the simplistic home cooked food and melted goodness. So simple in taste, but so effective. 

From where Harry lounged, he softly watched you. All relaxed, closed eyes, with a drop of tomato ketchup decorating the end of your nose. 

Before you had the chance, and he couldn’t fight himself, Harry reached up to gently swipe at the sauce and remove it from your skin.

You opened your eyes, blinking over at him as he pressed his thumb between his lips and licked away the sauce he had retrieved. His eyes were mischievous as they glanced at you before he took a bite out of his own food and savoured the taste.  

The groan that left his throat as he chewed was a sound familiar to you in other capacities, causing you to squeeze your legs together and forcefully take another bite of your own toast.

“Tell you what? If there’s one thing I do, ‘s make a bloody good cheese on toast.”

You smirked, amused by his boasting. “Nothing like a slice of conceited-ness as a platter cleanser, for afters.”

“Summat much more appealing for afters, don’t worry about tha’, darling. Got you sorted.” 

***

Bellies full and content, you slipped further down onto Harry’s couch. The two of you finding yourself closer together ask you basked in the warmth of Harry’s home.

“You weren’t lying when you said your nails matched mine,” your voice was sleepy as you spoke, right foot hitting Harry’s left slightly as you brought up your earlier conversation at the pub.

He chuckled into your hair, watching you lift your foot and gently place it atop of his. He made a space for it, moving his right leg so that there was an even bigger gap between his feet to slot yours between.  

“I think mine's a bit lighter to be honest,” you continued, eyes scrutinising his painted nails as much as they could from down the length of your body and his. 

“That’s some bullshit,” Harry groused, rubbing his feet gently against yours to warm them, his voice causing his chest to vibrate against your head as it rested there  “I even had it on m’ hands but I’ve been picking at it. Look.”

Harry obnoxiously held his hand in front of your vision, wiggling his fingers causing you to reach for his fingers and hold his hand still. Sure enough, he was true to his word, presenting you with chipped nail polish that was nothing more than the odd tiny dot against his clean nails. 

You smirked when he pushed them slightly closer to your face than intended, “Alright, think you’ve proven your point.”

Hand knocked back he brought it forward again, “‘M not so sure, try again.”

The only response you could muster up was a giggle fit for a schoolgirl, Harry’s response to pull you even closer as he softly smiled. 

A silence overtook you both, as you closed your eyes and let yourself become more intune with the music playing around you. 

Your face was pressed into the side of his neck able to inhale his worn in aftershave and the soft startings of stubble down the side of his throat. 

The silence was heavy and you knew exactly why. Listening to the base of the song across his speakers mixing with your staggered breathing and rising pulse. 

You knew you shouldn’t but you couldn’t help yourself. It wasn’t like it needed attention drawn to it. Yet, the words were tumbling off your lips regardless. 

“This song always makes me…you know.”

The words were mumbled but of course he caught them because he did know. But it was whether he wanted to go there. 

The thought of talking about sex and the sex you had together in a coherent state wasn’t ideal. He wouldn’t have anything to blame his honesty on, if he wasn’t more inebriated than he currently found himself.

“Think we need some more wine for tha’,” he mumbled, lips pressed to your forehead as you hummed in agreement and felt him begin to shift to raise himself from the couch to retrieve a bottle.

***

More wine wasn’t a good idea and you knew it. From the way your tongue was much looser and your lips a lot more numb now. 

The two of you had begun to dance on a weird ledge after he’d refilled your glass. The kind where you were openly flirting and backbiting against the other to try and see who could inflict the moment that had the two of you wincing. 

“Who caught your eye while I was out of the picture?”

“Who didn’t catch yours?”

Harry was sitting on the couch, side pressed into the back of the couch. Leaning with his elbow and allowing his face to rest  in the palm of his hand as he looked at you.

“Alright,” he stressed with a raise to his eyebrows and a quirk to his lips. 

You were a bit flustered due to the way your back bite to him revealed how you were actually caught up in his business of seeing other people when you tried to act like you didn’t care.

Clearing his throat Harry adopted a soft tone to break you out of your fluster.

“There was one girl. Took her to dinner two times.”

You held his eyes with yours, watching the way he slowly smirked, “But you already know that don’t ya?”

Before you could stop yourself, you threw the throw cushion sitting to the right of you, at him.

“Watch the wine,” he said around a laugh, as he raised his wine glass into the air and pushed the cushion to the floor before it had a chance of creating him a cleaning catastrophe in the early hours. 

“Hate you,” you mumbled, turning to your right to look at him from where you had reached forward to put your wine glass down to the table. Before you sat back you ran your index finger against the rim of your wine glass and tapped your nail gently against the base. 

“‘s tha’ why you’re sat eating cheese on toast and drinking wine on my sofa at almost 2am,” he spoke against the rim of his glass, knocking back what was remaining inside.

“I’ve been coerced to be here,” you replied, watching him reach forward, raising his eyebrows at your false suggestion. When he sat back against the couch he was biting back his smile, his eyes shining and crinkles deeply set in the corners.

“Know where the door is,” he goaded, raising his eyebrows again, arm raising to point in the direction of his hallway. He waited for your response and in that time leaned forward towards the coffee table once more, grabbing the wine bottle and topping you up before moving onto refilling his own.

Your eyes dropped down to the rich red liquid as it sloshed against the clear glass. While his words were telling you to leave, his actions were doing the complete opposite. 

Filling the silence he asked, “So, how many dinners am I competing with?”

“Three” you mumbled as you lifted your drink and took a sip for courage. 

Harry’s head titled as he surveyed you, “Bloody hell you didn’t hang around!”

“I have no more cushions left,” you spoke to his cheeky comment with a light hearted threat of throwing something at him for his brazen clap back. “Only my wine.”

He smiled at your warning to throw it all over him before he drawled, “And we wouldn’t wanna waste tha’”

You hummed in agreement, freely taking yet another sip. Finally, something you agreed on. 

Harry kept his eyes on you, waiting. The two of you almost seeing who would cave in first to try and dig for more information on the relations of the other while you were apart. What he really wanted to know was how many men he was competing against. Was it one man three times, or three separate men? 

With all the questions buzzing around his head, he knew it would be him who would give in. 

He was correct. 

“Gonna let me ‘ave a look then? Pull ‘em up on your phone. ‘S only fair. Mine was taken out of my hands.”

His ambiguous comment alluded to the paparazzi pictures of him that had been splashed all over the tabloid online outlets, as well as every other social media platform known to man. 

You didn’t hesitate, the alcohol in your bloodstream almost encouraged you as you reached for your bag at your feet and took out your phone. Said liquid confidence even helped in your handing over of the phone. “Pass codes the same,” you said, as Harry stared at you before he dropped his eyes down to the screen and tried the first code that came to his mind, your birthday.

The screen shook at him, causing a sheepish smile to pull up onto his lips as he thought about his second guess. He punched in the code of your mother’s birthday and unlocked the phone within a short five seconds.

You did notice the stall to his movements, clearly realising how part of this was wrong. It wasn’t his, or your, business to know everything in such detail.

Sensing his hesitancy also, you told him where to find a photograph if he was so desperate for a nose; on your private Instagram page. He took that as a small victory cause he knew you still had pictures of him on your profile that hadn’t been taken down.

You gave him names, knowing that it was an invasion of privacy for the men in question but equally not caring. His thumb was fast as it typed and spelt out the name into the search bar. Harry also not caring at how desperate he was to see his competition. 

“Hold this for me,” he said, passing over his wine glass so that he could cup your phone in both his hands, his undivided attention firmly on his foe. You looked on as you saw him zoom in on the picture of guy number two, who had the chance of a third date.

He was silent as he looked and swiped and read comments. He didn’t know if this was the type of man he was expecting. Had he even been expecting anyone at all?

Running his eyes over the pictures he was greeted with what he could only describe to be your average City man. All overcoats and expensive suits. 

Looks wise, he understood. Perfect five o’clock shadow. Seemed tall enough in photos. Obviously liked a gym session or two. However there was one thing about him that just looked so out of place- 

Breaking the silence, he said, “Can’t even do a tie properly can he?”

“Neither can you,” you shot back.

“Don’t have to when you have someone willing to help.” 

He looked at you from under his brow to see if you were going to correct him. When he realised you weren’t, he continued, “Never been tempted to fix his,” he asked, swiping across to look at another picture. 

“He hasn’t worn a tie on a date yet,” you responded.

Harry zoned in on the use of the word yet.

“What’s he drive?” He asked randomly, continuing the swipe through the pictures with his right thumb. 

“Range Rover Sport.”

“Probably on finance,” he spoke his comeback quickly, expressing his true feelings. It wasn’t going to be on finance but no one could blame him on wanting to throw a cheap shot in some way. “Doesn’t really seem the type to be blessed with the big dick energy. Overcompensating somehow.”

You found yourself biting down against your lips, trying to stifle a laugh. His pettiness has reared itself in less than ten minutes and you could see the way it wove through his features, with a quirk to his eyebrows and a scrunch of his nose. He was dismissive and you supposed he had every reason to be, you were after all sat on his couch. 

“Why do you really think I’m giving you another try,” you smirked, nails tapping at your glass again.

He held your gaze, “You planning on testing me out, seeing if it still works?”

“Might do,” you took another sip of your drink. “Depends if I have the energy.”

“Why do you think I gave you summat to eat?”

You breathed out a laugh as your mouth fell, right hand reaching up to slap him across the top of his arm. He seemed pleased with himself as he locked your phone and loosely held it out to you.

“‘S enough of looking at tha’,'' he hummed, licking gently at his lips. “How did you meet him?” 

Again a breathy laugh left your lips as you stared at him, incredulously. Harry’s eyes easily held yours as he waited on your answer.

“You aren’t in the least bit interested,” you licked your lips, the taste coating them slightly bitter from the lingering wine residue. “Don’t know why you’re trying to make it seem as if you are.” 

“Humour me, darling,” he mused, lips softly lifting. “Or humour him, whichever you prefer.” 

And you know you shouldn’t be doing this, laughing at the expense of someone else in such a way. You saw the larger swallow from Harry too and you knew he was feeling the same. 

However, here you were, giving eyes to a man that you didn’t think would get to see you in such a way again. 

“And why would I want to do that?”

“Cause at least one of us would make it worth your while.” 

You felt your breathing quicken as you held Harry’s eyes. He did nothing to deter you from holding his gaze. 

“You have to stop being so nice,” he added. “If he isn't doing anything for you, that’s okay.”

Reaching forward you rid your hands of your phone, letting it slide against his coffee table. “And do you not think you slightly have an unfair advantage?”

“I think,” he paused, his eyes looking at you. “I think we had something good.”

“Had being the operative word-“

“And I think we could have something good again. In fact I know we could.”

You stalled at his words. The confidence behind them. It was admirable how he was shooting his shot. Especially given you knew how inside he was most likely quaking with nerves.

“Tell him no.”

His words made you chest feel tight, his hand reaching across the distance between the two of you on the sofa. His palm facing up, you slowly lifted your hands to sit in his.

No sooner had your skin come in contact, Harry clasped his hand around yours and softly stroked his thumb to the back of it. He dipped down, lips meeting your knuckles before he tugged at you so softly you almost felt you had imagined it.

He wanted you closer, the arms length distance now too much as he started to show himself to you. His pettiness and his affection, they strangely won you over. Stoked something within you that had you edging further towards him.

Hand unlatching from yours, he lifted his left arm and wrapped it loosely around the back of your neck. With little persuasion you dropped your forehead against his jaw again. 

Harry’s swallow was audible as his fingertips softly stroked at your shoulder. His breath softly fanned against the skin of your temple, his lips turning to press the faintest kiss to your hairline.

“Tell him to piss off.”

You chuckled, breathily, head knocking itself back to look up at him. Eyes light with a sense of joyous infatuation at the moment you found yourself in.

Harry shifted, his right hand quickly discarding both your wine glasses before it placed itself against your hot cheek. The coolness of his slender fingers soothing and welcomed. 

“Tell him no,” he breathed, as his lips hovered close to yours, as he tilted your face upwards to meet his. 

With your eyes closed you felt a sense of guilt, for some unknown reason. It wasn’t like you were committed to anyone outside of the situation that you found yourself in, but you felt slightly wrong for what you were doing. Harry sensed it, able to read the downturn of your lips for what it was. He nudged his nose gently against yours, allowing his eyes to take their time in admiring your expressions and waited on the unnecessary internal conflict to ease. 

“Want me to tell him?” He asked, leaving breathy and wet kisses down your cheek, and along your jawline as you tilted your head back. “‘S not a problem.”

Your mind was swimming as you found yourself sinking back into the couch beneath you. Harry’s voice melting you as he continued talking, “Really get him to take the hint that you’re not interested.”

He kept his face buried against the underside of your chin as it pointed up at the ceiling, hands tracing down your arms and cupping at your hands to press them into his hair as he sucked at your skin.

“I know what you’re doing,” you hummed, scratching at the back of his head, enjoying the feel of his soft locks beneath your touch. 

Harry deeply groaned as you pulled at the strands, “What’s that?”

“Trying to have your way with me when I’m under the influence,” you joked, quirk to your lips. “Always was that little bit more placid that way.” 

You felt the way his lips moved from underneath your chin, finding the corner of your mouth, before he pulled up to look at you. He eyed you, all heavy lidded and messy lips. “You’re not tha’ pissed are ya?”

“No.”

“Then I’m definitely more than jus’ trying.” He reached for your face, lifting your chin and angling it how he wanted. “‘M taking, ‘m begging,” he spoke confidently, unashamed. 

His lips were dominant as they engulfed yours, a groan leaving your throat as your kiss was messy from the offset. His lips puckered and pulled, drawing you closer to him as he breathed through his nose and gave you his tongue.

Your chest was heaving as he skimmed his lips against your face, mouth finding the sensitive skin of your neck once more as you bit down on your bottom lip and tried not to laugh. 

“Charming of you to want your way with me on your couch.”

Harry chuckled against your neck, face lifting shortly to look at you. His pupils were blown out already, as his skin took on more of a rosy flush from the beginnings of his exertion. That or you’d embarrassed him.

“Sorry, I should’ve asked,” he mused. ”Where’d you want it?”

Legs curled gently around the backs of his thigh, still covered by the denim of his jeans, you pressed against them with the heel of your foot. 

“Where’d you think?”

He knew exactly where. You were a simple creature. You liked simple things. Sex was always fun to have all over the house, but depending on the level of intimacy you craved, depended on where you were willing to open your legs.

Tonight was a weird one for you to decide upon. The fumble on the couch, while it was exciting and showed you Harry’s desperation to have you once more, it would be over before you knew it. Also it would most likely leave you with a horrible crick in your neck as your keepsake. 

You didn’t want that. You wanted your keepsake to be the ache in your thighs from how he had taken you in different positions because while a bed was boring for some, it allowed you the option to roll around for as long as your bodies permitted. Bending in all different shapes and ways that sometimes neither of you would’ve been able to imagine. 

He broke you from your thoughts once more, hand gently finding your bum and tapping against it. “Up yer get,” he spoke, starting to push himself up knowing you wanted to go upstairs. 

With your legs curled around his, Harry couldn’t go too far. He chuckled with amusement as he dropped his eyes down to his legs and yours, before looking back up. He didn’t need to even ask as he looked at you, leaning forward he inhaled through his nose as he kissed sweetly at your lips and lifted you.

A smile pulled onto your face, causing difficulty to continue kissing. “Stop tha’,” he mouthed against the corner of your lips, as he hoisted your legs. “‘M trying to take charge here.”

“Why do that when you’re still so good at taking direction?” The lilt to your voice was one of glee, you had easily gotten your own way. 

Tousling your hair and flicking it away, behind your shoulders, you rolled your lips into your mouth as you felt the slight bruising from his expressions of desire. He was watching you as you looked at him, doe-eyes sparkling with intrigue and adoration. 

“Give us a kiss,” his deep voice ignited a warm fire within, as he still tried to assert himself while he walked the two of you away from his open plan lounge and closer to his kitchen.

You continued to eye him, enjoying the way he wasn’t going to back down. You just needed to stand your ground just as much. 

As your bum hit the work surface, your hands traced over Harry’s cheeks, cupping his face before moving to grip at the counter. Head tilted slightly, he looked down the bridge of his nose at you through hooded, dark eyes. 

He stepped in between your wide open legs and enjoyed the closeness that they brought when you brought them together to keep him to you. Heavy breathing filled the silent air as you both traced each other's features with touch and sight. Taste could wait, but it would get here soon enough. 

He gulped as he swallowed. 

“Please.”

At first it was gritty. His voice tight and throat dry. His lips forming the word confidently. 

Again he swallowed. “Please, gimme a kiss. You kiss me, like before.” 

The victorious hum that left his lips was one that you would let slide, as his hands ran down the length of your arms and reached up to wrap around your own. He placed them back onto his face, mouth breaking away as he left open mouthed kisses to your left palm, nose nudging at the end of your long sleeve top where he inhaled your worn away perfume. 

He could feel your pulse as he curled his fingers around your wrist. It was strong and rhythmic, inviting to his primal desire which caused him to gently nip at your flesh with his front teeth.

Turning his eyes back to yours, you silently asked him for another kiss with your soft and slow blinking gaze, knowing he wanted to get just as reacquainted as you did. 

He obliged, pressing closer to the counter and letting his lips meet yours quickly. His quick change in motion caused you to reach behind you to steady yourself, your hand coming into contact with an item you couldn’t identify until you gasped and pulled away thanks to the smashing sound. 

“Shit, I’m sorry,” you whispered quickly, trying to catch your breath. Harry’s eyes turned to take a look at one of the daintier wine glasses he had pulled down from the rack earlier but chose not to use. The item now lay broken against the flooring of his kitchen. 

“Really should tidy up before we go up,” he groaned, mouth pressed into the side of your cheek as you surveyed the mess made on his coffee table over the other side of the room. He reluctantly pulled away from you, walking the short distance to the broken glass.

“Watch yourself,” you said, meaning his bare feet around the glass.

Crouching down, Harry started to collate the bigger shards of glass together, stacking them up against the tiles of his kitchen floor. As you peered down, still sitting on his kitchen island, he looked up at you.

“Couldn’t do me a favour? Go an’ grab the dustpan and brush.”

You blinked. Was he alluding that he kept everything in the same place? Given how he’d asked so vaguely, knowing you would understand. 

Softly, he smiled up at you and chuckled around his words, “Same place as last time, yes.”

Taking a while to kick into action, you slowly slid off the work surface and let your feet softly pad over to the other side of the kitchen. The third cupboard from the right, on the lower half of the kitchen was where Harry kept items that Anne had brought him. You know, the things that Mum’s knew would be important but somehow never crossed their children’s minds. Regardless of whether their children were grown adults.

Sure enough, there sat the same blue dustpan and brush. The item was as vibrant as the last time you had seen it, in similar fashion. Leaning down you grabbed at it, shutting the cupboard gently using your foot and walked back to Harry.

You handed it off and heard his whispered thanks, as you rested the side of your hip against his cupboards. 

“Don’t think I’ve had this out since the last time you so elegantly broke one of my favourite glasses.”

You knew he was messing with you but that didn’t stop the blush of embarrassment, hitting your skin, and filling you with warmth. “I’ll replace it.”

“‘M jokin’, ‘s fine. Only a bit o’ glass-“

His sentence was cut short as the two of you jumped, the sound of a phone filling Harry’s space.

“‘S not mine,” he jutted his lips out, as he pushed himself up from his crouched position and carefully walked towards the bin with his broken glass.

You turned towards the noise that was your phone and how it blared from Harry’s coffee table, where you had placed it earlier. Walking the short distance, you reached for it and was met with a familiar male name.

Biting your bottom lip, you swiped across the phone and pressed it to your ear. His soothing voice greeted you, slightly worried in tone as he breathed a sigh of relief.

Letting your feet take you to the kitchen island again, you responded telling him you were fine and how sorry you were that you hadn’t let him know you had gotten home okay.

From over the other side of the room, you watched as Harry quirked a brow at you while he picked up the empty bottle of wine and wine stained glasses from the coffee table in his lounge. 

You weren’t home. You were far from home.

“Who is it?” He mouthed as he got closer, glasses clinking as he placed them onto the work surface of the kitchen island, after discarding the bottle of wine as loudly as possible into the bin. 

You pulled the phone away from your ear showing him the name that he had earlier been typing into your Instagram search bar. Under the dim light you could see the slight squint to his eyes and the way his nostrils flared. 

He darted his eyes from the phone screen and back to yours, watching as you put the phone back to your ear. 

“Yeah I had a great night, ‘m just tired.”

Harry dropped his head, a smirk forming on his lips. You were far from tired and this was nothing more than a moodkill. With his hands pressed to the worktop, he looked up at you as you stood diagonally opposite him. 

Eyes glancing down to your left hand that was spread against the work surface, Harry reached for it. The tips of his fingers running gently between the divots of your knuckles, before his hand slipped underneath your fingers and tugged you towards him.

You slowly obliged him, as your eyes moved to his face. “Come to bed,” he mouthed, watching as your top teeth worried at your bottom lip. His right hand moved to slip around to your lower back as you arched, pulling your chest away from his trying to keep his mouth away from the phone.

“Come to bed wi’me,” his voice was a whisper now, not quite loud enough for the person on the other end of the line to hear but a next step up from how he was previously just mouthing his words to you. 

As he tried to distract you, he dipped in and out of your conversation which was the most monotonous thing he had ever found himself eavesdropping into.

With your chest open to him, he nosed his way along your skin, head nudging at your hand that held the phone. His lips pulled into a smile as you faked a yawn, clearly trying to politely give the man on the other end a hint that you were done.

Still he heard the drone of this guy, who was now even repeating things he had previously said to try and keep you on the line with him. You weren’t interested though, too preoccupied by the way that Harry was once again pressing kissing to the skin that he could get too. 

Before you knew what was happening Harry had clearly had enough. 

“We’re tired, pal. Take the hint,” he spoke into the phone that still rested against your ear, his lips finding the bottom end of the receiver. “‘S time for bed.” 

You had to pull the handset away from your ear, not wanting to hear his reaction from the sound of Harry's voice. You blindly ended the call, keeping your eyes on your ex-boyfriend, whose green-eyed monster had made itself known.

He helped guide your phone down to his marble countertop and watched as the phone was brought to life with a call. The same name appearing on your screen as he tried to call you back.

Harry didn’t take long to decline the call, quickly turning the phone to silent and placing it face up once he’d finished. Again, it lit to life, this time buzzing against his work surface rather than omitting a jarring noise into the silence the two of you shared.

“‘S a bit creepy in’t it?” 

His question lingered as his eyes moved between the phone and you, watching another call ring out. “If he rings again, ‘m gonna answer.”

As expected the phone lit up for the fourth time. However, before Harry could reach for the item you pushed it, causing it to slide against the work surface and away, just enough that it was out of his reach. 

Harry clenched his jaw, his muscle pulsing as he looked at you. “‘S he always like tha’?”

“He’s just realised the girl he was dating is in the company of some other bloke.” 

“Dating or taken on dates? There’s a difference,” he raised his eyebrows. “‘S a huge difference an’all.”

You stared at him, watching him lower his body to lean against the counter with his elbows and wipe down his face in frustration. Unwarranted at that. 

“I don’t like ‘im.”

“Of course you don’t,” you hummed. 

Sharply he turned his neck to look at you, “‘s tha’ supposed to mean?”

“That I agree.”

“No,” he frowned. “It was how you said it.”

“I can handle myself.”

“I’m not-“ he cut himself off, sigh heavy. “I’m not saying you can’t.” 

He pressed the heels of his palms into his eyes, thinking of how to navigate his way out of this. 

“‘M saying that you don’t always have to,” he dropped his voice, slowly standing and letting his itching hands reach for you. 

With his hand resting against your ribs, you stayed still. He didn’t guide you anywhere, he waited. Waited on your next move. When he felt your stoic figure relax underneath his touch, his tight chest expanded. Maybe he could talk himself out of this one.

“When we tried this before,” he softly spoke, pulling his hand away from you to motion between you both, “We shared the load, started to become a team.”

“Yeah and look where that got us.”

He felt his lips twitch from your negative deadpan. “‘S got you back ‘ere again tonight so ‘m doing summat right.”

Shaking your head at him, he rolled his lips into his mouth trying to fight his pleased smile. He dropped his eyes to the counter below him as he mumbled his sorry. 

“If you were to ask me, I think we did alrigh’.”

“You would say that.”’

You watched as he jutted out his lips, before running his hand down his mouth and facial hair. He leaned on his palm, his eyes taking you in and wishing you would speak.

“My Mum talks about you all the fucking time,” 

“Say tha’ like it’s a bad thing.”

“It is when you’re trying to get over someone,” you glanced at him from the corner of your vision.

“Now why would you want to do that?”

“You didn’t seem to have a problem with it,” you were scornful. He shook his head, clearly amused. 

“I’ve still got half of your belongings upstairs, if you wan’ ‘em. You have no idea.” 

You squinted your eyes at him. Trying to read him. “Appearances aren’t always what they seem. Don’t know how many more times I’ll have to tell you about papers and social media, ‘s all a load of bollocks.”

Standing once more, Harry rolled his shoulders and brushed his hair off his face. Once his hands were at the back of his head, he linked his fingers and turned to look at you. Head resting back on his hands, the two of you held each other’s eyes. Him from the corner of his vision, you dead on. No words passed between the two of you. 

“‘M going to bed,” he sighed, dropping his arms and tapping gently against the kitchen counter twice before pushing away. 

His body screamed dejected as he walked away, his shoulders sagged and head down as he walked through his home, towards the second floor and his bedroom. 

Swallowing thickly, you rolled your lips into your mouth again before you spoke his name. The way you called for him caused Harry to stop his movement, back continuing to face you as he silently waited for your next move after you voiced your plea.

You let your feet take you to him, abandoning your phone on the kitchen island and trying your hardest to ignore the white hot anxiety that overtook your being. 

Close enough to touch now, you looked on at your shaking fingers as they gently reached out for him. Your feet took you as close as they could, arm wrapping gently around his abdomen and feeling it quiver with a nervous exhale. 

Lips against the linen of his shirt collar as you pushed onto your tiptoes, hoping that the wine stain upon them wouldn’t attach itself to the cream garment. His head dropped forward, exposing the curvature of his neck to you as his hand gently slid over yours and he rested his fingers between the splayed gaps of your own. 

Gentle squeeze. Reassuring reminder. 

Take your time. 

“Come show me this stuff.”

***

There was always something exhilarating about someone leading you upstairs. The different ways in which it could play out. Playful with a swing to your hands, sensual with a gentle tug to keep your close.

The feel of Harry’s hand in yours was always wanted. Every stroke of his thumb against your knuckles or the back of your hand, a reminder of the affection you had been missing.

His eyes looking over his shoulder at you as he came to the bottom step of the second set of stairs. A silent reminder that you could back out at any time. 

The floorboards still creaked in the same place as always and part of you hated that you didn’t need him to lead you down the hallway because you knew exactly where his room was. 

However, taking yourself to bed never possessed the same majestic undertone as when someone else did.

You were now sitting with your legs tucked underneath you at the end of his bed, rummaging through the box of things that he had neatly packed together for you so they were ready for you to have back if you ever came to collect them.

Every so often you would pull something out to him, showing it and either sharing a story or laughing. As you looked up at him now, showing a tequila shot glass and shaking it suggestively at him, he looked every inch ready to sleep.

Harry was stretched out straight on his bed, his linen shirt still covering his upper body but the buttons were all undone, revealing his chest and stomach to you. Tattoos on display to your eyes that you hadn’t seen for what felt like forever.

The top button of his jeans had been undone as he got comfortable and his ankles were crossed, with his right leg over his left. His eyes were heavily lidded and blinking slower and slower each time you presented him with a new item. 

Double chin forming from the way his head was propped up, he spoke deeply in acknowledgement of the glass with the less than elegant design on the side. 

“Remember getting through a whole bottle of tequila with that,” he drawled, hands clasping on top of his stomach. “Don’t know why we didn’t just pass the bottle between the two of us.”

“That’s because someone insisted that if we were gonna do it, we had to do it proper.”

“Haven’t got a clue what you’re talking about.”

“That’s convenient,” you deadpanned knowing that there was probably some truth behind his words given how inebriated you had both been at the time.

Thoughts aside you continued looking into the box to see a worn slogan shirt peering up at you. Pushing aside the half empty bottle of perfume that was once your favourite, you silently admired the tee that you knew didn’t belong to you.

A soft smile pulled itself onto your lips. Sometimes nice boy Harry was unbearable. He’d taken to folding the shirt that you adored as if it were on a shelf in a posh(er) department store than usual. Think more John Lewis than Debenhams.

Slowly you pulled the item from the box and enjoyed the feel of the soft cotton against your fingers. You loved that the shirt’s collar was slightly saggy, a sign of how loved it had been.

Your voice left your throat as more of a dreamy sigh than you imagined. “I loved this shirt,” you spoke as you held it up in front of your face, eyes tracing over the blue slogan of ‘Enjoy health. Eat your honey.” and the cheeky looking bee that was drawn within the circle.

Who didn’t love an innuendo?

Without a second thought, you let the item fall into your lap, hands quickly turning to pull at your black v-neck top and reveal your matching black lace bra underneath.

Harry slapped his hand against his eyes, quickly covering them. The sound caused you to look up at him. “Don’t be so daft, Harry,” you spoke, fighting your smile by rolling your lips into your mouth as you saw him splinter his fingers and look at you through the gap he had created. 

“Could give a guy a little warning,” he groaned, continuing to peek over at you. 

Shaking your head, you enjoyed the way the cool fabric fell down the skin of your stomach as you covered yourself once more. You knew if you were to turn your head slightly and press your nose to the collar, a mixture of your perfume and his cologne would remain.

You fought the urge however, as you pulled your hair out from underneath the collar and quickly pushed your hand up the back of the shirt to undo your bra. 

It was almost second nature for you to remove your underwear to get comfy within your comfier clothes and the sagging of your bra cups away from boobs was always a delightful feeling at the end of any night. Drunk or otherwise. 

You pulled at the straps of your bra from underneath the sleeves of your shirt, before diving your hand under the hemline and dropping the item less than gracefully into the box that held your other items.

“Think you’re forgetting who that actually belongs to,” he drawled, head resting against the pillows beneath him now and watching you rummage once more.

“I think you gave up the privilege of wearing this item the minute you dropped it inside this box all neatly folded like you worked a shift at Topshop rather than Manderville’s every Saturday.”

He cackled, head tilted back as he enjoyed your self-righteous indignation and absolute pisstake. 

“All Saints was more my thing.”

“That’s because you’re fake indie.”

He was amused as he shook his head over at you with a silent smile. “And being fake indie is exactly why you decided to live on the edge of Camden and not in the thick of Camden itself.”

“Don’t act like you didn’t once tell me that you’d want to raise a family in Hampstead.”

You felt your face heat up at the way he’d completely called your bluff. “That was when I was young and naive.”

“As opposed to us now? Being old and decrepit.”

Again you were silent as you started to put the items around you back into the worn cardboard box. 

“Why’re still fuckin’ around wi’that box?” 

Your eyes snapped up at him as he kept your eyes. “The only thing you should be fuckin’ around with, is me.”

Raising your eyebrows, you said, “Now who sounds young and naive. Anyway, what happened to you just taking.”

Harry was silent as he took in your words, his body slowly rising from his lounged position and he sat up to approach you. You dropped your gaze down his chest and to his stomach, enjoying the slight rolls of his abdomen as he adopted his new seated position.

His eyes were focused as your gaze found his once more. A soft determination. This sheen to his skin in the lamp lighting of his bedroom, causing him to naturally glow. 

Once he was secure in his upright position, closer to you, Harry snatched at the box with one hand and picked it up to sit it down on the floor at his side of the bed.

He then swooped suddenly, hand scooping around your waist and drawing you to him with squealed laughter. His lips fell against your cheek as he shushed you, aiding you as you moved position to get comfortable. 

“Remember the first time I had you in this bed?” He asked, chest to chest with you. Your mouth was agape with your quickened breathing, as his lips puckered slightly at the corner of your mouth and he gently leant his nose to yours.

You both watched each other through heavy eyelids, breathing mixed in rising anticipation. A soft nudge of his nose as he asked, “Do yer?”

A nod was all you could muster. 

“Was good sex,” he husked, hoodied eyes holding yours. “Was always good sex.”

You hummed in agreement. Feeling the way your nerve endings came alight as you pushed your fingers through the hair at his temple. 

Heat flowed through your body, circling in your stomach as his words echoed. 

“Still gonna be good sex, ‘f you’ll let me. Better even.”

The faintest smile pulled at your lips, causing your eyes to glisten. 

“Eh,” he nudged. “You gonna let me, or tell me otherwise?”

“Personally, think you’re just talking a good game.”

“You know ‘m fucking not.”

Harry pulled you to him, his mouth claiming yours easily. So hungry and intense. Lips that were desperate to show you what you had been missing. Lips that were desperate to wipe away the touch of another, asking you what the fuck you were even thinking in trying it with some other bloke? 

Gone was the brushing of lips, faint and fleeting. Harry’s liquid confidence started to come into play as his lips formed into a smile when he gave you his tongue and hummed as he did. 

Harry cupped your face as he slanted his mouth over yours, soft moans leaving your throat as you kept him close. 

Lips were coaxing, as he groaned between quiet wet smacking sounds that otherwise would have had you cringing. 

Now he had you however, how could he part? Your smell was intoxicating to him, as was the touch of your fingers in his hair and nails gently scratching at his scalp. His mewls were catlike when he pressed his wet lips to your skin.

Breathing now more like a pant, it puffed against your elongated neck as he pulled away and made a beeline for your clavicle and then chest, movements slower. Chestnut hair tickled the underside of your chin and caused the faintest of smiles to ghost across your lips from the way it felt.

His nose nudged the collar of his shirt that sat against your body enticingly. The smell of your perfume everywhere to him. 

Now lower down you found his forehead was pressed to your clavicle as you felt his teeth playfully tug the cotton between them. A puff of air left your nose as you bit down onto your bottom lip to try and suppressed your giggle.

“Smells like us,” he hummed, mouth breathing hot and heavy against the shirt that sat directly above your nipples. “‘S tha’ good.”

Your only response was the tipping back of your head, fingers carding heavily through the hair at the nape of his neck. 

Had he always been this skilful? Vocal, sure. But it never quite hit you like it was doing tonight. His deep hums and moans, his hands spreading so confidently across your back to hold you to him.

And when you cradled the back of his head and pressed that was when you found yourself moaning his name deep from the back of your throat as his mouth gently sucked at your hardened nipples through his beloved shirt.

His name left your lips again, this time  in the softest gasp as a small frown hit your eyebrows and your hips started to faintly roll atop his. He moaned gratefully into your chest, his tongue wetting the fabric of his shirt so it clung to your raised nipple.

As he nosed along the cotton, he found your second nipple, his hand quick to raise to the first and squeeze at your breast that had not been forgotten. His touch wanted - you and it - to know that.

This is what you’d been missing so long. A sense of feeling you had buried somewhere else. Blocking out the way he managed to make you feel more alive than anyone else had. 

With cheeks hollowed as he suckled, you whispered, “That’s nice.”

His hum of agreement vibrated through your chest as he kept his face pressed against you. 

Everything about him became deliberate and slow, his hands now moving underneath your shirt and fingertips gently grazing at soft, warm skin prickling goosebumps in their wake.

Sliding lower his left hand palmed against the back pocket of your jeans, fingers catching against the thick and sewed seams. Hand pressed heavy to aid the soft rock to your hips, tapping lightly to the top of your bum.

“‘M gonna take these off,” he hummed, looking up at you from where his face was still pressed into your chest.

“Are you?”

It felt as if the room spun before you could even comprehend what was happening, a squealed laugh leaving your lips next as your arms tightened around Harry’s shoulders. He lightly lifted and rolled you, your back landing against his mattress gently as your laughter tapered off.

His lips were sponging kisses to your jawline and cheeks, as you felt the backs of his fingers slide gingerly against the exposed skin of your stomach. Slowly you felt the fabric pull away and fall slack against your stomach when he managed to twist the button with one hand, as your arms fell against the mattress and into the pillows that were slightly pressed higher against the headboard.

“Took you long enough,” you goaded, a smirk lacing your lips as you felt Harry pull away and watched him kneel sitting back with his feet against his bum. 

His face was a picture, clearly amused, as he swiftly pulled his own shirt away and threw it behind him. Hands slowly trailed back up to the waistband of your jeans as he lightly hovered over you.

His head found your stomach, the soft skin on show from where the tee had ridden up. Soft puckered kiss, he lifted his head and pressed his chin into your stomach. 

“Last chance,” he voiced, soft. While he wasn’t willing to forget about it all, regardless of the ache he had between his own legs, you had to be in this with him as much as he was. 

Blinking down at him, you moved your hand up to gently push through his hair and without words raised your hips off the bed enough for him to get the message.

The smile that pulled at his lips, was so triumphant you had to knock your head back to stop yourself from chastising him for being full of himself. 

Your hands however couldn’t help themselves as they joined Harry while he pulled your trousers down your legs and watched goosebumps rise upon your skin from their exposure to the cold. 

Now he was at the end of the bed, you dropped your head to the side to look at him. The way he looked as he carelessly threw your item of clothing over to the chair that sat in the corner of his room. 

His eyes slowly came back to you, as he followed his own motion and saw the faintest of smiles dance across your features. 

“What yer thinking?” 

You were thinking a lot of things. Mainly more so how mystical he looked in the soft glow of the London evening that was creeping in through the haphazard way he had drawn his curtains. Your smile only deepend at how it was more so from the street lamp lights than any full moon, but he didn’t have to know that.

Of course he would want to though, because your smile was more so on show now thanks to the thought in your mind.

Harry shook his head as he fought his own smile, dropping his face slightly to watch his hands as he fiddled with his own jeans.

“Whatever’s got you smiling, ‘s doing nothing for my ego as ‘m undressing m’self in front of yer.”

You knew he wouldn’t be able to help himself, which is why you lightly laughed. 

He spoke your name in a pretend warning.

“‘S doin’ everythin’ for you,” you spoke sultry, “Don’t even try it. Got a girl half naked and waiting for you.”

At those words he looked up at you, through his curtains of thick waves that had fallen into his line of vision. 

You breathed deeply, eyes unable to move from his captivating stare even though you knew he was practically naked from the waist down. You knew from the way his upper body moved as he pushed down his jeans; you knew from the sound of the clothes bunching around his ankles. 

Now you found yourself wondering again. Wondering if he still kept his condoms where he had done last time. Sometimes in the bedside table drawer, other times hidden in the top of his wardrobe. 

Were you going to see him twist and turn, get him showing you how white his bum cheeks were in comparison to his infuriatingly evenly tanned thighs and legs? Or was he going to hold your eyes, dip his knee into the bottom of his bed and crawl up you once more so he could grab one from the bedside table.

“Not just any girl,” he finally replied, his knee dipping into the bottom of the bed. You supposed that answered your question. 

“No?”

A small shake of his head. 

“The girl.”

Harry chuckled, giving himself away as he watched the way you relaxed deeper into the mattress as he found your legs easy to accommodate him. 

“I’ve never been the anything,” you emphasised.

With his lips against your cheek, you felt his puffed breath as he responded, “Yea, you fuckin’ have.”

You kept him to you with a hand against the back of his head, fingers woven through his hand unable to not enjoy the feel of his silky locks beneath your touch. Reacquainting yourself with everything that you thought you had lost.

His lips unlatched from yours with a soft, wet sound as your eyes rolled back into your head when he started to trail kisses down your cheek, down your neck once more.

There was no mistaking how greedy they were, his chin knocking yours and his teeth scraping against your skin as he held your jaw with a steady hand in hope of keeping you still beneath him. 

Legs moved from where they were open, softly brushing at his sides so your calves wrapped and touched the back of his thighs. The feel of his hairs against your smooth legs becoming a weirdly exhilarating reminder of your closeness once more. 

Head buried in your chest, you felt him locate the wet patch against the cotton from his previous play and quickly enclose his mouth once more. Warm hands pushed beneath your body and the mattress, sliding underneath and raising your chest further to his face. 

Your mouth fell open as you felt the pressure of his lips and tongue, enclosed around your nipple again, grow stronger. With a hand in his hair once more, you wondered if he was going to take you out of this shirt, or fuck you in it. 

As the pressure lessened, with your head pressed into the bed beneath you, you heard the rustling of his nose and face against the shirt. He rubbed his face against you, inhaling and moving his hands closer to your lower back. 

Hands in contact with your underwear, you felt him smooth over the fabric of your bum. He pulled at your thigh, before pushing at your knees with a gentle but assured touch. 

“If I remember correctly,” he started, voice muffled as his face was still pressed to your breast. “This leg needs to go here, like this. Mm?” 

Clammy hand splayed against your thigh, you felt him direct your other leg, “And this one needs to be a bit lower, otherwise you get cramp.” 

There was a pause, and you could feel the way his lips were twitching atop the cotton of the tee. Matching yours at the flippant comment that was only funny because it was true.

Humming again, he added, “Keep ‘em like this. Keep me here like this.” 

Doing what he asked, you bit back a moan when he moved to fit his palm over you through your underwear. The warmth from it radiating through you, making your throb and giving you the urge to fold your legs in on it.

Tentative strokes were what you received, at first. Up and down, coaxing you and drawing you into him. Then his fingers became more confident, certain in their touch, moving with a sense of familiarity you had been missing. 

“‘S this okay?”

His voice was soft, hard to hear over your breathing and the blood starting to rush around your ears. You found yourself nodding, however. Giving him the permission he desired, making his next movement the easiest. 

His fingers hooked, slipped underneath the thin piece of fabric and the quiet groan that left his lips only had you moving your legs that bit higher. 

“‘S it nice.”

Harry was enticing. From his oozing velvety voice to his careful, barely there touch. You were lost to him. Finding it hard to breath as your body begged for you to be actually - really - touched. 

With a heavy swallow, you felt your eyes fall shut with your slow, deep breath and let your head turn to the side, finding the edge of a propped up pillow to shield your torture expression. 

“Don’t hide from me,” his voice lazily made itself known, as he looked up from under his brow at you and caused your eyes to drop as you looked down your body. He descended lower and lower, hands pushing up at his tee against your stomach, to reveal your bare skin to him. 

Spongy kisses, encased by stubble, pressed into your skin. His fingers never once let up in their tease, touch opening you up for him. The soft twitch of your legs when his fingers landed on your clit, sliding over it. 

“Relax for me,” he hummed. “You good… s’it feel good?”

Confident nod, you swallowed again. Tongue pushing between your lips to lick away the dryness. 

“Okay wi’this?” 

Another nod.

The press of his fingers onto your clit caused you to breathe deeply. A hiss of ‘yes’ as you exhaled. 

“Tell me if it’s changed.”

And you knew what he meant. His desire to know if you still liked things the same as before important to him. 

You couldn’t help the low and long moan that left your throat. Neither could you stop the lift of your hips from the bed as you twisted your body as he stroked at your clit. 

Heavenly ‘oohs’ and ‘aahs’ were pulled from you. Encased by ‘yeses’ of various pitches. Harry’s nose was buried into the skin of your ribs, having managed to push the tee you still wore to underneath your boobs and in the process expose more of your skin to him.

His mouth sucked against your skin on the inside of your left boob, just at the underside, and from the groan he omitted you knew you were going to be left with an almighty love bite. 

“Oh,” you sighed, as you felt his tongue lave at the mark, again nudging upwards and taking the shirt with him. Tongue over your exposed nipple, alert from the cold and due to your aroused state. 

Your lower half was warm, fire stoked while he stroked at your clit. A sharply exhaled ‘fuck’ from you had him smiling around your nipple. The last time you had found yourself getting this wet - soaked and slick, the kind that meant your walls were smooth and would pull him right in - had been with him. 

A laugh left you from underneath your breath, one not noticed by Harry who was too lost in the feel of you beneath him. The thought of anyone being able to get you this way from an act so virginal was unknown. Of course, he was the exception. Of course. 

“Hear tha’?”

So lazy he couldn’t even ask you properly. 

“Nice an’ wet.”

The slip of his fingers moving lower had you humming delightfully, legs falling open a bit more as his fingers danced at your entrance. The contrast of the heel of his palm to your clit was welcomed, warm but dry in comparison to heavily wet fingers. 

You could feel yourself pulsing as his palm gently rubbed you again, nervous energy had you teetering. Fingers at your center. You wanted them, you wanted him in anyway he would give you himself. 

Quiet, apart from staggered breathing, he smiled to himself when he felt your walls give way to him and his two fingers with ease. Your moan was voracious, a clear need apparent as the edges of it died against your dry throat. 

He knew it was his name. He had heard it like that before. Plenty of times. Said in the same tone too. Sprinkled with incoherent desire. 

“‘S that want you wanted?” He found himself asking. “Should’a just said.”

And you would’ve if you could. But instead your head was tossed back and your toes were curling into the sheets. 

These were the moments he has missed. When he really thought about your time apart. The moments where the two of you were so lost in each other that the nonsense that slipped from each of your lips was met with no judgement but rather embraced. 

Reacquainting after time apart. Rekindling your desires and unspoken love for one another. 

Eyes on your face, he couldn’t  quite see you how he would’ve liked but he did nothing to change it. His own want went out of the window in favour of you getting and keeping yours. 

The smell of you was everywhere as he dropped his eyes and pushed his face against your boobs once more. A man quite willing to suffocate in his need to want more. 

He could feel your falling apart under his experienced touch, relentless and unfleeting now. His fingers curled and with each ‘come hither’ your breathy moans only drove him on. 

“Fuckin’ ‘ell,” he spoke through gritted teeth, the tension in his arm burning at his wrist. Mutters of desperate mantras - ‘come on, come on’ - mouthed to your skin.

And you could - like this - you could. But did you want to?

While you were feverishly hot, everywhere, for him - body unable to stop rolling with each pull of his fingers - your head knocked back and softly shook from side to side. 

“No,” you moaned lightly, “Not yet… Harry.” 

“No?”

His questioning had you dropping your eyes, head still lolled to the side with pouted expression. 

Mind still slightly hazy, you stared at him. He was still in his underwear, very obviously hard. Head nudging slightly, you breathed, “Come here.”

Empty. That’s how you felt when he slowly moved his fingers and left you clenching around nothing but the cold air of his bedroom. 

His right hand was against your skin, middle and third finger slightly hovering away as they were coated in you and he selfishly didn’t want to lose that to your flesh but rather his tongue. 

Legs welcomed him, smoothing around the backs of his thighs once before lifting and using your  feet to try to push his underwear down. 

Harry let out a noise you hadn’t heard in a while, a mix between a grunt and chuckle. The kind that created an aggravated fire within you.

“‘S not gonna work,” he mumbled, eyes closing as he felt the warmth of you against his clothes bulge. Your one thigh lifting to encourage him to roll onto his back.

And he did, taking him with you. A mess of awkward limbs tangling. With shaky knees you climbed over him, eyes down and taking in his underwear.

A pair of black briefs fit him just right, hugged him and holding his straining cock. 

Your eyes slowly rose up his body, his chest lifting and falling with heavy breathing as his chin softened while he looked down at you with his fingers just about leaving his mouth from where he’d cleaned your arousal off of them. 

You felt his eyes peering at you as you lowered down, nose first teasing against the waistband of his underwear before you found your lips pressed kisses to the tops of his thighs. Enjoying a little bit too much the feel of his leg hair against your nose and lips. 

Hand lifted, it blindly sought out the waistline of his pants and allowed fingers to slip inside to pull down the material. 

Just about past his thighs, you locked eyes with Harry. His soft blinking gaze and content smile had you grinning impishly, knowing in the faintly lit room he would most likely be able to make out the blush upon your skin. 

You’d saw but more arousingly heard his cock move as the briefs which encased it gave way and it fell back, heavy, against Harry’s lower abdomen. And that was where it lay, next to the hair in Harry’s stomach and down to his pubic region. 

Small crawl to get you better situated, you flipped some of your hair over to your opposite shoulder and felt him touch the back of your head with a barely there graze as you licked up the underside of his cock.

“Shit, darling,” he breathed, voice blissful above you but filled with a rawness only brought on by sexual vulnerability. 

Looking up his body, you could see the grin that had made its way to his lips. His teeth quick to bite it away, with little to no avail. 

You licked again, mouth moving lower to delicately suck one of his balls into your mouth. 

The groan that left him was husky, right from the back of his throat. The kind that gave you shivers from how unguarded it was. His legs widened against the bed, your eyes diverted to his thighs from his movement. How thick they looked as they flattened beneath you on his bed. 

Wrapping your hand around him, you ran your thumb over the head of his cock. Up and down. Slowly taking in every movement and what it did to him. Just like you remembered.

“‘S this right?” You asked, hand and mouth working him and his balls over. Looking up once more you watched him hum, with the smallest of nods. His lips were rolled into his mouth, dimples prominent as they dipped into his cheeks.

His nostrils flared as he breathed and his hair had started to fall across his forehead from how he’d been dipping his head back into the pillows beneath him.

“Squeeze me ‘ere,” he reminded you, voice holding a slight tremble, his hand encasing yours and encouraging a tighter hold as he leisurely dragged both his and your hand up and down his cock. “Slowly- tha’s it.”

You pulsed between your thighs as you watched him moving your hand with his, each downward pull showing his glistening head more and more. Heavy swallow, you knew he was holding back and you would be lying if you said the visual wasn’t encouraging you to take him in your mouth properly.

Almost like second nature you did exactly that. Licking at your lips as you lifted up and wrapped your lips around his exposed tip. When his hand faltered from the pleased sound you voiced now you were on him, you were able to slip from under his grip and felt him continue to wank as you suckled so teasingly. 

With each bob of your head, you felt his hand pull away more, as your mouth and jaw stretched around his hard cock. 

“Yea’,” he groused, deeply when his hand fell to give way to your mouth and move to shift your curtaining hair. Harry rolled his hips up gently, eager to get the last bit of him down your throat. Old him would’ve voiced it too, but he felt this moment didn’t call for that.

He softly fucked your face, if there were such a thing. The nudges of his cock warming through your core as the throbbing sensation that had been lingering between your legs only grew.

Harry fought against himself to make you gag, teetering on it with each raise of his hips as his glassy eyes barely focused on you. Too engrossed in the filth he wished to voice. 

“God, look at you,” he dropped his head back. Ironic really. Unable to continue looking as he said it. It was tame in comparison to how he wanted to speak.

So, he laughed. Breathy at first, before becoming a little bit louder. You lips twitching into a smile as you lifted off of him and gently tugged before letting it fall and bounce proudly erect. Kissing up his stomach and placing your knees either side of his hips. 

He had almost forgotten you weren’t completely naked until you sat on top of him covered up. Eyes too taken by your face to care, as you blinked down at him with a doe-eyed expression that made him want to lap you up in any way he could have you.

His right hand pulled you down to him, lips greedy against yours as his left hand found the top of your bum cheek, trying to blindly find his cock and guide him into you regardless of knowing it wouldn’t work.

“Like this?” He asked as his lips hovered at the corner of yours, wanting to know if you wanted it this way. “How’d you wan’ it?”

“On top.”

“Me?”

Your voices were breathy as you spoke around the faintest of kisses. Both eager to start from the feel of you both so close to each other. 

The faintest of nods was given to him and it was all it took for him to roll the both of you, further continuing to ruckle up the bedsheet beneath you.

“Do I need one?”

And you knew you should be responsible and not shake your head no at his ambiguous mention of protection. All rushed and breathy, chest heavy as he exhaled in a nervous rush, but you just wanted him. Bare and in you. 

Underwear was quickly removed before you’re resumed your position. 

He watched you softly as you shook your head no, Harry pushing the shirt up under your boobs, your arms wrapping around his neck as he continued to kiss at your jaw and cheeks. 

“Planning on staying over?” 

Feeling him shift up and jar his head back, just enough to get a good look at you, you stared at him not knowing how to respond. It was practically morning now, so hadn’t you already? 

His hands moved your legs as you thought, his one holding you where he needed you to be. 

“Don’t think ‘bout it for too long, darling,” he joked nudging his nose gently against you as he watched the way your lips went against you, smiling at his words. 

“Let me know how long we can go for,” he added, gently taking his cock that was sprung and bobbing between you into his hand. He looked down and tapped it to your wetness, sliding it down with a press of his fingers to the topside of his shiny cock to line himself up.

“Gonna let me have you all night.” 

Your breathing picked up, chest trembling slightly at how much more of a statement those words sounded than a question. An amorous glance looked back at him, slow blinking and head lolled gently to the side. 

“Eh? Sleep in the mornin’?”

A deep and shaky breath had your mouth falling, your eyes slowly shutting as you felt him push in. You were right when you thought about how easily you would take him earlier. Body crying out for a good fuck. 

“Fuck me,” he groaned deeply, head dropping forward and hair hanging down. You reached for him, wanting to see his face.

Harry obliged you, his face turning to find your wrist and pressing a chaste kiss to your skin. “Missed havin’ you like this,” he breathed. Quick bite down to his bottom lips, nostrils flared.

“‘S tight.”

He knew the remark was boyish. Unable to stop himself as he eased out and rolled his hips back into yours. Each push and pull giving you a little more of him. Deep frown etched between his eyebrows as his breath caught in his throat, mouth slightly fallen and lips starting to dry. 

“Haven’t-“ your voice croaked, head dipping into the pillow beneath you.

Haven’t slept with anyone in a while. Haven’t slept with anyone since you last slept with him. Haven’t had the desire to. 

He hummed in agreement as the two of you felt the words fall away from you both. Harry’s concentration firmly on each roll of his hips as he gave you more of him. The rhythm he set being one that you could only describe as intimate. Familiar. 

He was warm on top of you as he alternated between grinding dips of his hips, thrusts that were tantalisingly slow, making your hips roll up to meet him and causing him to smile at how you wanted it. 

He had to voice it. “You want it, don’t you?”

He only knew so easily because he did too. He had done the minute he fucked the whole thing up and let you slip away with his dwindling text messages in response and shorter phone calls every time you had a chance.

Your hand glided to the back of his head, the other down to his bum as you encouraged him to give you his entire weight. He was close but you want him closer. Close was never close enough. 

Was that enough to answer his question of wanting it, wanting him? 

Squeezing at his bum, you fought the urge you had to give him a slap, too caught up into the heavy groan that moulded into your face as he pressed his nose to your skin.

“You make me good,” he lowly gruffed against your cheek, his hand trailing down to take yours from his bum.

Fingers laced and pressed against the mattress upon which you lay, you tilted your head back and pressed it harder into the pillow beneath you. You keened and mewled beneath him, breathy noises of indecipherable words as the head of his cock bumps your spot inside. 

“You make me feel good.”

You were taken by his gasp, how desperate he sounded as he hiked your leg higher, wanting you to spread yourself open for him. His hips don’t give you much choice other than to play along as he moved with an assiduity you had never found with any other man. 

He allowed you to feel every inch of him going in, pulling out and going back in. Teasing himself and you with a slow and measured pace that had you passionately panting underneath him. 

“No one gets it like this.”

Looking at him with heavy-lidded vision, you wove your fingers through his hair and tugged. His face contorted blissfully, breath catching in his throat before it heaved out of his mouth as his chest forced him to exhale. 

You were nodding, agreeing with him. No one had you like this. Him like this. It like this. Sweltering and sticky. 

Teeth gritted, he grunted as he thrusts grew heavier now with more conviction behind their motion. 

“Deeper,” you gasped, “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

His pelvis was heavy against yours now, making it difficult for you to lift and roll your hips to meet his thrusts. And he knew you loved it like this, he still knew that. 

Legs practically pushed to your chest, held there by your own fruition as they rocked and rubbed up against his fleshy sides cradling him to you, feet bobbing in the air with toes curled.

The sensual roll he was giving you caused the grip of your fingers to go slack against his head. You could feel him smiling against your skin, as your breath hitched in your throat and your hand squeezed at his. 

“Touch my arse,” he moaned, sliding his hand out of yours and breathing in quick succession until your hand met his bum cheek once more. 

This time you didn’t falter, gently tapping and feeling the tension to his thrusts as he clenched. Quick squeeze and nails digging in creating crescent moons against his white bits. “Yeah darlin’, know I like it like tha’.” 

Head turned to the side, you messily brought your mouths together. He chuckled as you broke away, probably from the words he’d just spoken. Laughter dying down into a hum as your feet wrapped around his lower back.

His lips were dry as they met yours, too caught up in how his mouth hung open, to make them wet and inviting, as his need to breathe was evident. 

“No ones like you,” you admitted. “No one comes close.”

He revelled in the whine of your last word, how it had your back arching and allowed him to wind his hand around you to lift your bum slightly to encourage your hips to continue meeting his.

He knew you were tired, the breathy whines that were spoken up towards the ceiling were not lost on him. And he knew he had to keep going, to give it to you how you deserved. To make up for the lost time, to say sorry for ‘being a bit of a dick’. A lot of a dick. 

When you knocked your head back, your eyes were unable to concentrate and he was mesmerised by the visual of complete, unadulterated lust that was present on your features. Hair sticking to your temples from your exertion and face void of any concern. 

“Make me come,” you whispered your plea, feeling him bury his face into your neck and drop himself down flush to you. With one hand woven through the hair on the back of his head, your other stayed at him bum feeling the grind of his groin against yours as he lay on you. 

He was sensual now, if not a little tired himself, as his breathing left his mouth in hot pants against the side of your neck. You could feel yourself beginning to flush from the heaviness of his body as you both rocked from the force of his motions and the fullness of him above you.

With rustling sheets and sounds of grunts, your cooed ‘oh’ left you, as you felt the motion of Harry’s hips pickup pace. Your fingers clawed into his hair, lifting the strands and softly pulling as your body ached in the most delectable way.

Harry groaned around a smile, muffled by your skin as he could feel his stomach start to tighten; his orgasm impending. He tried to hold off as much as he could, eager to watch you come undone first in the best way he could as he was rendered speechless and breathless alongside it.

Instead you were both a mess of tangled limbs, with rocking motions so vigorous that you felt yourself moving up the bed. A symphony of noises - slapping skin, feeble grunts and creaking bed.

Harry wheezed, knowing he sounded pathetic by too caught up to care. Through hooded eyes you caught sight of his mouth falling agape before he ground his teeth together as his thrusts heavily rolled into you, nudging your entire body.

Your mouth fell as his name unashamedly fell from your lips. Demandingly, but in a juxtaposed whisper, you told him to give it to you. 

“I am,” he whispered. “Oh, I am, darling- Mmhm.“

You whimpered, feeling each breath get harder to produce as your abdomen began to tighten and your chest heave. “I’m coming,” you hastily whispered. Voice nothing more than a pant. 

Looking up at Harry, you watched his bottom lip become captive to his teeth, as his nostrils flared while he breathed. His thrusts were at their heaviest now, wetter and sloppier but getting the job done.

“Gonna- oh.”

This was the loudest you’d been in a while. Moans long and dying off into wordless bliss as your muscles tensed and your orgasm rolled through you. Leaving you as nothing more than cloudy thoughts, and a warm, floaty body.

You felt the bounce of his laugh against his skin from his breath, as he continued to move above you and moulded you into nothing but a high-pitched mess as he wouldn’t stop.

Body falling slightly slack, relaxed and pliant to the bed, you felt Harry move his face into your neck and nudge his hips once more. His ruts were less rhythmic, rough grunts and indecipherable slurring only matching his pending euphoria. 

With his final, heavily thrust, his hips slammed to a stop against yours. Your breathing stuttered as you held him to you, hands moving over his shuddering shoulders and ears listening to his muffled groans which vibrated through you.

“Yea’,” he drawled. Low from the back of his throat. “Yes.”

***

Sunday mornings were made to be slow. To bask in the stillness. To hear nothing but the blood that was rushing through your ears.

It was far too bright to be considered early morning. Not with the winter months looming. 

You stretched your limbs, listening for the crack of your back as your hands reached for the t-shirt that was still awkwardly bunched up to your armpits. 

Rolling your body slightly you reached for the hem and pulled it down, letting your head fall to the side to see an empty bed which allowed a sense of regret to creep into your morning thoughts. Blinking slowly, you almost missed the sound of the bedroom door gently bouncing against the wall.

A hushed, “bollocks” spat out for the other side of the wood causing your lips to twitch upwards in a smile. 

A pause came to Harry’s movements as he caught your eye in nothing more than a pair of fresh underwear and mismatched mugs in each hand. 

“Stayed the night,” he hummed, eyes softly shining. A soft smile pulled onto your lips as he left a cup of tea closer to your side of the bed and you watched him start to blow gently at the lip of his own mug. With his mouth about to take a sip, he asked, “Fancy staying another?” 

[bonbonbunny]

Do u have any good lady's isekai falls-in-love-with-a-prince-from-a-novel type webcomic recommendation? I read 2 and now im hooked

Do I EVER!!!!!!!!!!!!!

Most of these I find on Webtoon. If you join webtoon and read regularly, you'll see them suggesting more things you might like, and new stuff on the main page, and you'll discover more and more of them, too. 💖

Happily Ever Afterwards - The heroine is reborn AFTER the epilogue of her fave novel, after her favorite character has been exiled from the kingdom due to the story’s events (he’s a tragic, sympathetic character).  She sets about traveling to the cold, difficult kingdom of his exile to try to convince him to marry her, so that she can give him the happiness he deserves to have after all of the sad events from the book!  This comic is SOOOOO sweet, cute, and fluffy-fluff! ☁️

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The First Night With the Duke - Starts out with a lot of comedy, but has gotten much more serious as the chapters have progressed, with some intense scenes that I haven’t been crazy about.  The heroine completely derails the plot of the novel by being born as a random, unnamed side-character who accidentally seduces the male lead, and no romance between him and the actual female lead ever even has the chance to happen. 😅

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The Matchmaking Baby Princess - The heroine is born as a tiny baby princess, who uses her super cute charm to influence the characters around her so that things turn out better for them than the way the novel goes.  This one is still fairly new, so the episodes haven’t shown a whole lot about how she derails the story yet, but, it is REALLLY CUUUUUTE!!  And has very beautiful scenes of palatial gardens and such.  Also obviously the heroine herself is not the one that the romance happens to lol.

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His Majesty's Proposal - This one is a bit similar to The First Night With the Duke, with a rando side character getting proposed to by the prince after spending a night with him.  A fun twist with this one is that the heroine is reincarnated from a crotchety old woman in her previous life, so she uses all kinds of old person slang (like calling people “whippersnappers” and stuff like that lol) and is kind of rude and grumpy lol.

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Every Rose Has a Death Flag - Pretty typical isekai where the heroine is reincarnated as the villainess and knows that all of her ends are bad ends, so she tries to remove herself from the attentions of the prince and the other main characters, but through the process ends up endearing herself to them instead.  Good stuff without any weird quirks or gimmicks. 👌

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Tricked into Becoming the Heroine's Stepmother - The protagonist is actually one of the AUTHORS of this novel, so she is familiar with exactly what will be happening to all of the characters!  She is reincarnated as a rando townsperson though, and doesn’t have much influence, until she appeals to the prince and just spills the fact that she’s the author and knows everything that’s going to happen to the princess (his daughter) in the future lol?!  And he believes her??  And employs her to his household in order to prevent any of the princess’ suffering???  Also did I mention that the princess is the most adorable little toddler ever, with fluffy hair like a chestnut? 😭😭

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The Male Lead's Girl Friend - Again, the heroine is reborn as the villainess of the story, and attempts to distance herself from the male lead as much as she can (endearing herself to him in the process).  Some of the interesting quirks here are that she ships the male and female lead SUPER HARD, and is trying everything she can to hook them up together, but they both only seem to fall for her harder with every attempt. 😄 There is also a cool school/academy setting to this one to set it apart from the others with similar plots, as well as BIG YURI VIBES between the protagonist and the female lead.

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How to Survive a Romance Fantasy - This is the most comedy-intensive of everything on this list.  In fact, it just kept getting sillier as its chapters went on, and I actually dropped it from my reading list because it wasn’t making me laugh as hard anymore as it was in the beginning.. 😅 In this one, three normal-world folks are reborn in the fantasy world, as the heroine, the prince, and the villainess, and ALL THREE of them hate it and want nothing to do with the plot, so they run away as far from the plot as they can, and are also keeping their identities as the main characters secret from one another.  It is very, very silly.

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Non-Webtoon Webcomics

These have not been officially picked up & translated.  To read them in English, you will have to find them online where they are posted by fan translators.

The Villainess is a Marionette - This is for real probably my very favorite comic on this whole list, and can you believe how beautiful the art style is???  The tone of this one is totally different from any of the others here.  The protagonist is reborn as a malicious villainess with particularly cruel endings in her future, and she sets about to avoid them by using her power, influence, and wiles to manipulate the royal intrigue happening around her.  She’s... RELATIVELY kinder than the original villainess was in the story, and several characters that were her enemies in the original story are endeared to her now, but she’s still got her claws sunk into the royal family’s shady dealings.  This is a “bad boss b*tch” kind of heroine lol, and it’s super satisfying to see her come out ahead of the other villains with her crazy 4D chess manipulations.

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Sincerely: I Became a Duke's Maid - A super snuggly, sweet, and fluffy story where the protagonist is reborn as a maid during the tragic antihero’s childhood.  He is afflicted with a painful curse, and the protagonist, knowing that only more pain is ahead for him, does her best to befriend him and make his youth a little bit lighter.

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Who Made Me A Princess - Yet again, a tragic end awaits this princess that the protagonist is reborn as in her childhood, so she uses her cute charm to change the king’s attitude toward her (he was neglectful in the original story).  Some interesting original-plot-derails happen in this one, where her innate magic power is much stronger than it’s supposed to be, and she needs the help of a magical pet creature and a very handsome wizard to sustain her life in this world.

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Seduce the Villain's Father - This one wins the award for having the most hilarious title in this list. 😆 It’s much cuter and lighter than it sounds!!  This protagonist derails the original plot by allowing herself to be kidnapped by the villain’s kingdom instead of the intended character (her sister).  She is reborn among characters the generation before the events of the novel, so the villain himself isn’t here yet - but his handsome dad is!  And if she can convince him not to marry the woman that would become the villain’s mother, then the storyline is saved!  Probably!

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Special mention:

My Next Life as a Villainess: All Roads Lead to Doom! - This anime is probably the main “reincarnated as the villainess” isekai that introduced most of us to this concept. 😅 I’ve linked to where you can watch the anime for free on Crunchyroll, but there is also a manga if you’d prefer to read it!  While there are many, many comics that use this plot hook, this is the only one that made it to anime form, so it’s like, required watching!

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To close this long list up, all of these recs are JUST ISEKAI!!!!  If I were recommending my favorite webcomics in general, there could also be Cursed Princess Club, The Remarried Empress, The Princess’ Jewels, and Men of the Harem in this list...

There are so, so many comics with beautiful art styles featuring gorgeous princesses, it’s crazy!! 😭😭 I could for real spend my whole life reading them probably?? 👌👌  Those millions of women that read romance novels about dukes falling in love with noble women are suddenly extremely relatable.

[scenefox2003]

Okay so ever since that theme song takeover and the trailer dropped I just knew that it was finally my time to shine and share my master list of

✨newt family headcanons✨

~Olivia and Yunan are gay. That’s an obvious one but it’s a prerequisite so I gotta put it in here

~Yunan is definitely the cool aunt type and very playful and down for some fuckery while Olivia is the complete opposite and the only person holding the family together because we all know Andrias is inept

~Andrias is the sweet goofy dad figure (which is an act but no one knows that) and sort of just lets anything happen

~Andrias and Yunan definitely both let Marcy ride on their shoulders

~Marcy loves to braid and style Olivia’s hair and she fucking sucks at it but no one has the heart to tell her

~don’t even ask me where this came from I don’t even remember coming up with this one, but you know those really heavy lawn darts from the 70s that got recalled several different times over the years? (if you don’t, look it up) that’s everyone except Olivia’s favorite bonding activity. Olivia hates it because this involves both Yunan and Marcy so someone usually ends up getting hurt

~Marcy introduces all of them to human subcultures, Yunan is obsessed with punk culture and alternative fashion, Olivia loves the white mom Facebook live laugh love type shit, and Andrias just becomes a full on incel

~Speaking of incel Andrias, he has never been in a relationship and CONSTANTLY bitches about it, and Marcy is the only one who doesn’t find it annoying and always encourages him. He’s also lowkey jealous of Yunan and Olivia for finding love

~Olivia has a really pretty singing voice and will sing to Marcy to help her fall asleep

~On Marcy’s first night in Newtopia, she shyly tells Andrias that she’s never slept without a stuffed animal before and she obviously doesn’t have one with her, so he immediately goes out and buys her one (it’s a cardinal)

~Speaking of birds, Yunan has one and it’s some dope ass raptor or something, Marcy IMMEDIATELY falls in love so Andrias is just like “lol you want one too” and that very same day she gets Joe Sparrow

~Andrias is a little shit and LOVES to make suggestive jokes about Olivia and Yunan, but Marcy is the type of seventh grader that’s completely clueless and naive about adult matters so he’s really the only one who finds any of it funny, it gets a good reaction out of Olivia though

~Yunan trained Marcy almost completely on her own, she was her mentor and REALLY saved her self confidence that had been destroyed by gym class back home

~Since Yunan and Marcy were on a warship together I like to think they both LOVE boats, Olivia gets seasick and Andrias is obviously too big but the two of them go out for a day on the water a lot, Yunan definitely has a jetski and is also the type to take those redneck selfies where you like hold up a fish

~the newts assumed that Marcy would get homesick, but she actually has the complete OPPOSITE problem where she’s absolutely terrified of having to go back home for whatever reason and she even has nightmares about it, she feels like her current life is too good to be true (which it is, just in a different way)

~Marcy will often call them mom or dad respectively by accident, and every time it happens they all think it’s really sweet

~Everyone except Marcy knows that “juice” is a euphemism to hide Olivia’s drinking problem, but she still always uses it no matter who she’s talking to, even around Yunan who is just like “bitch I’m your girlfriend I KNOW that’s vodka”

~Marcy regularly draws all of them, there’s a family portrait of them that she drew up on the castle fridge

~Andrias developed a taste for human teenage girl pop music and everyone around the castle is SO SICK of Carly Rae Jepsen, but Marcy has no regrets

~Marcy obviously introduces them all to video games and Andrias is really pissed because his hands are too big to play, Olivia straight up sucks at it but humors them and Yunan gets WAY too into it, her and Marcy’s Mario Kart sessions usually end in tears

~the worst sort of slang that Marcy has taught any of them is by far horrible gamer language, Andrias LOVES the word poggers and when Anne hears him say it for the first time she nearly has a heart attack

~Marcy is the only one who’s careful with her royal credit card because she’s terrified of the economy crashing, Olivia really appreciates her for that (despite being an irresponsible spender herself)

~Yunan has sworn to kill many of Marcy’s bullies back home, none of the newts can fathom why anyone wouldn’t like or respect her which is really good for her self esteem

~Andrias is the best at comfort, Olivia is the best at advice, and Yunan is the best at distraction

~Andrias is also really good at taking care of Marcy when she’s sick or hurt

~It’s always really sad for the other three when Yunan has to go out on missions, but when she comes back they always throw a big party

~Yunan isn’t the brightest and doesn’t really realize that Grime’s lieutenant Sasha and Marcy’s friend Sasha are the same person, and when she does she immediately feels extremely guilty and everyone swears not to let Marcy find out, because they know if she knew that Sasha and Yunan had a fight it would break her

~Yunan and Olivia regularly argue about who gets to have Marcy as their maid of honor at their future wedding

~When Yunan and Olivia find out that Marcy is staying in Amphibia forever, they’re both so relieved because they didn’t know if they could handle not having her around anymore (which is ironic I know)

[chocolate-parfait]

I've never sent an ask before so I apologize if I'm doing something wrong, but could I maybe request some more Gen Z mc headcanons? I just love the idea of mc having a platonic younger/older sibling dynamic especially with Napoleon and Jean 🥺👉👈

dw, dw! here it is✨

Gen Z!MC (pt. 2) - ikevamp headcanons (Napoleon & Jean)

Napoleon

You and Napoleon get along amazingly from the start. Sure, there is a generational gap and many of the things you do or laugh at cannot be explained, but believe me when I say that his charisma and open mindedness make up for it, a lot.

Being the naturally caring person he is, he immediately takes you under his wing (he basically adopts you, like he did with Jean and Isaac). No one is allowed to lay a hand on you for the whole month, else they'd have to catch his hands and sword. Related to this, no matter how much you tell him that you can fight on your own, he will NOT let you. First, he will have you join on his sparring sessions with Jean and teach you the basics, maybe even tell you a thing or two on how to throw a punch, but he'd rather have you safe and sound than covered in bruises and bloody scars.

This may paint him in a slightly overprotective light, but you probably won't even notice it unless you're throwing yourself headfirst into danger. A creep is harassing a woman in the street? Napoleon will deal with it before you can move another step. He was a soldier and an emperor, he has fought for a future of peace and equality, and you, the fruit of his hard work, should avoid any kind of bloodshed.

On the other hand, if the fight is verbal, he will 100% support you and cheer you on. He absolutely adores it whenever he sees the eloquence and unwavering confidence with which you defend your ideals, and he wonders whether a father would be feeling the same way.

Another thing he appreciates about you, is your humor. Although sometimes it kinda upsets him and makes him think about the type of society you must be coming from (self deprecating jokes, mostly), he cannot help but get a good laugh or two whenever he sees you laughing at the most nonsensical things.

One day, he, you and Arthur were talking about your life in the 21st century, when you happened to mention a friend of yours. "..oh yeah! This actually reminds me of my friend, Joe. Though it's too bad that he died of ligma" "I'm so sorry to heart that... what's... what's ligma though? A new illness?" "🕴 L I G M A B A L L S 🕴" im sorry this joke is overused but its 1AM and i saw it on a jujutsu kaisen tiktok pls beare with me

(+ you and Arthur falling to the ground, tears in your eyes and the most horrible whale noises filling up the whole room)

Other times you come up with the most original and unusual phrases that don't match your usual speech at all. "MC, what were you doing before coming here?" "I had sworn an oath of solitude 'till the blight was purged from mine lands" "What..?" "I was in quarantine because of a global pandemic" Oh.

When the time comes for you to say goodbye, he will, of course, feel a heavy dagger in his heart, but he'll gladly let you return to your peaceful time, the place where you belong to the most. Knowing you, you'll surely be fine, after all.

Jean

He's confused at first. You're young, somewhere near his age back when he was alive, and according to what you told the others you come from a """relatively""" peaceful time. without considering police brutality, discriminations, wars in certain countries, and a pandemic. Let's just say that many of us can lead a life without going to war and such But why, why are you so cursed?

Saying that he's taken aback would be an understatement. He simply cannot get more than half of what you talk about, he's not a social butterfly and he struggles with being open with others; you, however, don't seem to mind it too much. You approach him, fearlessly and with genuinely good intentions only. He resists and tries putting distance between you, but there's something, something that makes him want to talk to you, laugh with you and understand you more.

Your arrival shows him that which he could not be. A simple teenager. An innocent person who peacefully lives without having to worry about traitors, incoming battles and the sight of dead comrades in a puddle of their down blood. You look so carefree in whatever you do, even when nervous and hesitant, and yet you do not lack depth. He has seen you defending your principles, the fire in your eyes and spirit wholly concentrated on your interlocutors. Could he have been like that, too, if he had been given the chance?

Ever since meeting you, he's become more and more determined to learn the basics which he had completely missed during a time of war. Reading and writing, for example. He's not as naive as to completely let go of all his sins, but the untainted side of him, which had survived so many years of slaughter and had tied the adjectives "saint" and "pure" to his name, pushed him to work hard for those simple yet rewarding goals.

He's utterly at a loss for words when you propose to help him out though, and even more when he sees the lack of judgmental sneer in your eyes. Could you really be so innocent? Or perhaps it's a sign of your maturity and benevolence? Maybe you two are not so different, after all. Sure, you may be one hell of an oddball, but he surely isn't that normal, either

Whether he likes it or not, Jean subconsciously starts considering you as a younger sibling, and he feels the need to protect you by sacrificing himself; he's the only one with stained hands, you should remain the way you are. Pure and childlike, like he used to be. This will bring you to butt heads every now and then, because yours is not a kindness that stems from ignorance, but from open mindedness and awareness. In the end, you're both mutually taking care of each other, and it's so wholesome that someone's younger brother might feel a bit jealous of your bond.

Teach him some modern songs and some slangs (Jean to the other residents: wassup, my fellow homies!), tell him about popular blockbusters and bestseller stories, do some popular challenges with him, like the chubby bunny one but using macarons instead. Jean will naturally develop a smile, and his usual dark aura will slowly dissipate, like a clear sky after a thunderstorm.

After the month passes by, he gets more and more nervous as the day of your departure gets closer. He's used to saying goodbyes before heading into battle, prepared not to come back alive anymore, but to do it with someone who will be alive, even if years and years after your present time? That's definitely a first for him. Nevertheless, knowing the time where you'll be going back to, he feels reassured, and is finally able, perhaps for the first time in his turbulent life, to say "goodbye" with a smile on his face