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#late night posts with soph
joeypottrs · 2 years
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the new tumblr icon killed the queen
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field-s-of-flowers · 8 months
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I memorized all my limes!
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cherry-titz · 5 months
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Hi friends! @1800titz here. This is my contribution to the collaboration, and I’d like to start off by saying that I am so, so, so beyond excited to work with the immensely talented @cherryjuiceblues!! Thank you for working with me Soph :’)
We have loads of goodies planned, and we’d like to kick things off with Mr. Hitchhikerry. (Sidenote: he’s a little late to the party, this WAS supposed to be a spooky piece for Halloween but SHDJDJCJDJD don’t worry about it. Life got in the way a bit, but he’s finally HERE so WOOOO). A little idea based on this reddit post. This one has great big warnings. DARK HARRY. VERY DARK HARRY. With a piece like this, I want to really emphasize: this is purely for entertainment purposes, and there is 0 correlation intended to the real Harry Styles <3 just a spooky faceclaim.
With that disclaimer out of the way, here’s some content warnings: dom/sub themes, choking, (light) spanking, degradation (and praise!) ((some good ol’ LET’S PLAY SIMON SAYS)). THE WOOF WOOF is for humiliation purposes only <3 GREAT BIG WARNING FOR A DISTURBING CONFESSION OF INTENT TO HARM.
Also, I writhe in my seat as I write, wanting to put in lengthy context of prediscussion and safewords and aftercare and everything important I always talk about, BUT. You’ll see. He’s an …interesting character and I tried to keep hitchhikerry true to himself.
PLEASE DON’T HOOK UP WITH STRANGE MEN YOU PICK UP ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AT NIGHT. PLEASE DON’T PICK UP STRANGE MEN ON THE SIDE OF THE ROAD AT NIGHT. Enjoy ٩(◕‿◕)۶ (WC is 11K)
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She doesn’t do hitchhikers. 
Not figuratively, not literally. 
Y/N was raised outside of the scope of the seventies, post-Bundy and his hitchhiking antics, and since the evolution of serial-killer lore, she’s never been fond of a stranger hopping into her passenger seat and then cutting her up into itsy-bitsy parts to hang around his back garden like string-lights, or something. An ear there, a palm with crooked fingers there. Morbid stuff. 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers, but she doesn’t think about that, hurtling down some back-country road, a poorly lit vale through a field of tall, boundless grass. It’s not the first thought budding behind her skull when she sees his silhouette through the shone of her pearly brights — a blip by the line of tall shrubbery — even a good distance away. And from her distance, he’s just a little blip in a cream, hoodless sweatshirt, feet planted into a bed of patchy grass. Her first sane thought, as she squints through her windshield, has to do with why someone would be out on this road, at this time of night, with no feasible form of transportation, and how. As her Honda nears and passes some fork off, a dirt bend of clearing into the winding field of nature, the man’s hitchhiking, signature thumb morphs into a wave of his arms, and his foot steps out, toying at the edge of the road. It doesn’t quite breach the threshold, but her speedometer decreases enough for her to catch baggy denim, distressed at the knees, and a slow wave of his arms, raised. He doesn’t launch at her car, forlorn, as she passes — thank Christ. But even then, his frame swishes by, out of sight, coated by darkness. She casts her gaze to the rear-view, and the image of him scrubbing over his face with an exasperated palm shrinks in size the further she gets. 
The young woman gets about a hundred feet before she nudges the break with her foot to a halt, sighing as the car settles with a subtle lurch. She makes another glance to the rear-view. Now, she can’t see him, not in the shroud of night, but she squeezes her eyes shut for a second, and then twists the wheel until the car curves. A tire slips off onto gravel and grass with the U-turn, but she steers herself back onto the road and drives into the same direction she’s just come from. 
He looks surprised to see her reverse, form pivoted toward the same headlights that’d just passed him with a crease over his brow bone. Y/N slows and breaks as she nears, absent-mindedly pressing a fingertip over the lock button on her door. TV Girl is still playing quietly from her car speakers when she cracks the window, stopped beside him across the road, and beckons with her chin raised just enough for her cadence to seep through the opening, “Do you need help?” 
“Yes, yeah, I—“ the man makes a quick glance towards the side of the road where vehicles would be incoming, a sharp turn of his chin, and then a step towards her parted window as Y/N twists over the volume toggle. “I just— my car broke down,” he raises an arm and points towards the dirt clearing that slips into the field, “I was coming this way, and my phone’s died—“ 
He pauses, shaking his head down at his converse, his voice a baritone croon with charming, foreign dialect, “I know this is so odd, and you probably don’t want a stranger in your car. But f’you could just order an uber or something, I could give you the cash for it?” the girl watches his ring-clad palm disappear into the front pocket of his denim hastily, only to retrieve a wallet, “—If that’s alright?” 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers. 
And still, her pupils rove over the charming stranger, trailing from his soft dark curls, swiping over his lashes as his head ducks, down the slope of his nose, to the cushiony pink of his lips. Irises graze down his neck and catch a white tee under the collar of his cream pull-over, and they brush down his denim, to his battered, white converse. The young woman watches his hand stretch out, cautiously, a wad of neatly folded cash cupped by pads of fingers with short, yellow-lacquered nails. 
“No, don’t— …I can give you a ride,” Y/N tells him, her tone soft as her gaze wanders over his frame. 
A downward shift plucks at the corner of his plush mouth and his jaw flexes, a hesitant look shaping over his features, “It’s— I couldn’t— s’like a thirty minute drive, and I don’t wanna take you out of the way…”  
His large hand is still stretched out toward her, and she admires the cross inked over the back of his hand, on the fleshy area between his thumb and forefinger. Her brows pinch together, and the window whirs as the glass partition sinks. The girl raises her hand and points back with her thumb. 
“Are you going in that direction?” 
Wordlessly, the attractive stranger nods — a single dip of his chin. 
“I’m going that way, too. I can give you a lift.” 
Another look of hesitancy flits over the curly-haired stranger’s face, a soft, dubious touch to his facial features. He purses his strawberry mouth. 
“If you’re sure.” 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers. 
And still, she slips her hand over the unlock button, and the doors click to signal unshuttering as the man culls his wallet and stuffs the cash back in, sticking that back into his jeans. She watches him wind around her car, his gait trailing behind, and her eyes follow his side profile, bathed in the red of the brake lights, through the rear-view. The passenger door slips open. She rolls her window the rest of the way up. 
“Thank you,” the man tells her in his low baritone, raking fingers through his curls as he slides into the seat beside her and shuts the door. 
He smells heady and fresh — expensive. But it’s not overpowering, by any means. A blend of tantalizing notes; cologne blotted in increments that mesh well with his natural musk. The pleasant scent is the first thing she notices when he climbs into her vehicle. The second is the sculpt of his side profile — lengthy lashes over the crest of his cheekbones, his nose, a plush, pink mouth, a stray curl splayed over his forehead. He’s a little older than her, at least by a handful of years; there’s this innate, aged quality to him, and she can witness it in the shape of his features, in the soft dusting of stubble over his jawline. Y/N catches glimpses of his side profile discretely as the music track shifts, eyeing the bob of his Adam's apple as he cranes his neck back against the headrest. The screen over the center console reads 1:02 AM. 
“Long night?” 
It’s a shit attempt at small talk, but the young woman turns the wheel in her palms, hopeful that the man is interested in something more than an awkward silence, sparsely filled with the mellow keys of electronic-indie leaking from the speakers. She heard him expel a breath more than she sees it in her peripherals, and as the car embarks on another U-turn, he tells her, with laughter suffusing his cadence, “Yeah. Yeah, s’been a long night.”
She does make out that he pivots a bit towards her, and his tone is earnest when he says, “But it’d be a little longer without you, I think. Thank you, again. Feels like I can’t say it enough.” 
Her mouth quirks softly. The young woman keeps a haphazard left hand on the wheel, vision bouncing from the poorly illuminated road ahead and the phone in the cupholder. The LED display lights alive as she swipes her thumb over the lockscreen and toggles onto the maps app, cueing him by nudging the electronic in his direction. 
“Um. If you could just type in the directions— I’m sort of shit in these parts, to be honest.” 
She casts a brief gaze toward him and sees a soft divot pinch into his cheek as the corners of his mouth crook up. His fingertips, warm and rough — calloused — brush over the back of her hand with the handoff, and then his thumbs are working over the screen before an address and a winding blue line of directions with an eta of thirty-four minutes teems the screen. 
“Hi, by the way,” the man says in his honey-smooth cadence, “My name’s Harry.” 
“Hi,” Y/N grins, shooting a bashful glance into the attractive stranger — Harry’s — direction, before fixing her irises up ahead. “I’m Y/N.” 
“Y/N,” the man parrots — God. She could listen to him drone on about the most monotonous topics in that voice. He doesn’t. Instead, he uses that same timbre again to say, “S’a pretty name.” And she has to ignore the flurry of butterflies that swarm her innards at the entirely innocuous compliment and the heat that suffuses her cheeks. “Are you from around here?” 
“Ish. Sort of,” she slows at a curve through the field. Her brows pinch, “I mean, I’ve lived here for a bit now, but I moved from Oregon.” 
“Oregon? That’s sick. Any particular motive?” 
Y/N lifts a subtle shoulder, because there isn’t. She pauses before she answers. “Dunno. Just needed a change of scenery.” 
Harry twists the ring over his pinky and nods down at the motion, lips pursed with intrigue, “Adventurous.”
The young woman’s mouth crooks, because he’s, evidently, from the opposite hemisphere.  
“That’s admirable,” the man motions with his chin. 
Her mouth is still smiley when she rounds another curve, in the opposite direction, and mirrors his dialogue, “What about you? Any motive?” 
“My motive?” his inflection is cheeky and playful, “You don’t think I’m a native?” 
The girl makes a wry sound of amusement; an obvious inclination of disagreement. The handsome man grins, all raspberry-tinted lips and friendly teeth. “Just …visited, and never wanted to leave,” he declares with little expansion on the topic. Simple, short, sufficing. 
There’s a little moment of lull between them when she straightens the car out and the track slips into the chorus. 
Harry shifts in the passenger seat and asks, in that same deep timbre she could sink into and drown in, “Where are you headed from?” 
Where is she headed from? Y/N blinks at the road ahead, digits flexing over the steering wheel. Truth be told, it’s a late hour to be out and about, especially in this deserted neck of the woods. Every cozy little farmhouse in these plains, distant beyond the fields of grass, has lights off. No other car passes. 
“I was on a …date,” the young woman tells him. 
Harry nods and swivels in his seat to face her a bit. “Good date?” 
Y/N pauses, the fragments of the story rolling around behind her skull. And truth be told, …it wasn’t a very good date. But it wasn’t a date to begin with. In all honesty, she’s not about to tell this attractive stranger that she’d driven forty minutes for a routine hook-up with an old tinder match, only to be stood up outside his door. 
He was a character whose path happened to cross with hers for purely carnal purposes, and their flings were like rolls through seasons, rendezvous blotted into her timeline where either had a smidge to make room. She’s not going to talk about that. It’s piteous, basically. The young woman doesn’t risk side-eyeing him. This man seems like he’s well off in that department, and she doesn’t want to discuss her shit intimate life and the way that Cody decided, last minute, that he was more interested in going out for miller lites with his buddies than entertaining the idea of sleeping with her. 
He didn’t even have that impressive of dick game anyways — that’s the brutal candor. It wasn’t that he had this particular lack of satisfaction guarantee, but the sex was okay. It didn’t tick all the boxes or leave her fulfilled, not in the real sense, but it was sex, and it was decent. Maybe the most brutal part is the way she’d driven all the way to see him, even knowing that the sex wasn’t going to be top notch. 
Apparently, her silence stretches too long, and the pause gives away the answer she mulls tactics over hiding. 
“Bad date,” the girl hears from beside her — it’s in this thoughtful sort of way, like Harry’s slotting puzzle pieces together in the lull.   
Y/N shifts her fingers over the wheel, the sound of skin sliding over leather meshing with the starting notes of a Cage the Elephant track. Her thumb toggles over a button on the wheel. She skips it. 
“No,” the girl responds, eventually, but she doesn’t even sound fully convincing to her own ears. There’s this high note to her cadence, and she hears it in her own waver of honesty. She wants to cringe up, a little, at the sound. “Not …bad. Just. Well, you know. What about you?” 
For the first time since she’d gotten back onto the road, Y/N casts her gaze to him. A glimpse, a twist of her chin, enough to take in his side-profile for a smidge of a second, more in a way to incite switching the topic and pivoting the point of conversation than the inconspicuous stare she’d made appreciating his features. The corner of his plush mouth curves up, and he makes a little sound; a puff of air through his nostrils like he’s bridling mirth. 
“Was my date bad?” Harry says, in this playful sort of way. Like he’s teasing her. 
“No— your— whatever you—” 
Y/N huffs. She rolls her shoulders back against the seat, a heat teeming over her cheeks. Why was she so nervous? Why did he make her so nervous? Harry makes another sound of amusement, the cushion of his lips unsealing to display straight white teeth. 
“I was at a friend’s,” Harry expands, opting to stop drawing out the teasing, enough for Y/N’s shoulders (that’d grown rigid) to relax a little against the seat. “Was actually having a good night, believe it or not. And then, you know.” 
Unfortunately, she does know. He’s sitting in her car, after all. 
“Do you know what went wrong with it?” she ponders. 
“Well,” Harry the pads of his fingers over the door, and it takes every fiber in her not to sneak a glance at the motion, not to admire the yellow polish, washed with darkness, dim in the car, “the check engine light was on for a bit, to be honest. But— no,” the man pauses with a little simper, shooting her a glance, “Cars aren’t my specialty.” 
They talk about loads of things — she learns all about his friends and the sort of outing they’d had (game night it’d been, Uno, and he’d beckoned her opinion on a debate that’d arisen — whether a draw four could be stacked onto a draw two). That had spawned another conversation on card games —
(“Is it like Go Fish, then?” 
“No,” she snorts, “not at all.” 
“Not at all?” 
“There’s a board and it’s— more complicated.” 
“There’s a board,” Harry parrots, shifting with his elbow brace on the center console like an armrest, “And it’s just, like. Cards, like, in a deck of cards?” 
“You’ve never played cribbage?” Y/N repeats in disbelief.)
She learns about his job, and his cat, and his collection of vintage vinyls. He’s amiable, and he answers every question she directs his way with this smooth sort of charm. He’s easy to talk to, and the span of the drive cuts shorter and shorter through intriguing conversation. But she leads the way for the majority of the inquiries. 
It’s not until they’re at the halfway mark before he asks his own, rather than redirecting one of hers. 
“Can I ask you something?” Harry drums his fingertips over the plush of his mouth, and Y/N struggles to fix her eyes back onto the road once she’s spared him a glance. 
It takes her a second to hum out an agreement, too. 
“It was a bad date, wasn’t it?” 
The girl expels a breath and drums her fingers over the wheel, casting her gaze onto the screen of directions. 
“It wasn’t even a date,” she confesses, “he was like—“ she blinks, lashes fluttering as exasperation at the reminder leaks through, “A tinder hook up, and we didn’t even end up hooking up.” 
Before he can interject, Y/N tacks on, begrudged, “He wanted to hit the bars with his posse of Mag-con wannabes, instead.”
And then there’s this sort of pause that has Y/N thinking that maybe she’s overshared. The man with the sun-polished nails isn’t an old friend she’s having a gab with, catching up on the phone — he’s a stray man she’s plucked up off some deserted road, and if he judged her for her choices, it’d kind of be justified. Namely, the one where she’d driven out in the middle of the night for impromptu cock. 
And anyways, this all feels a bit surreal — the beginnings of a therapy session with a stranger who’d hopped into her sedan for a lift, filling the void of a psychologist in a great, big leather armchair.  
Except Harry sounds earnestly disbelieving when he says, “You’re kidding.” 
She purses her mouth and readjusts her fingers over the steering wheel. “He sort of …canceled when I was already at his door? Forgot to text me that the plans changed. That’s what he said.” 
“What a dickhead.” 
“Mm,” Y/N hums. 
“He’s a moron for passing up the opportunity,” Harry tells her. It’s not in an awkward way, or anything creepy, either. He’s got this air to him, she finds — an ability to make a comment like with effortless delivery of charm. He’s not even looking at her when he says it, only risking her a brief glance that she catches in her peripherals. She still side-eyes him from her seat in surprise, the edges of her mouth curling up bashfully. 
“M’serious,” Harry says, dimples pinching into place beside the upturned-curl of his plush mouth. 
And the thing is, Harry is so friendly. He’s kind, and interesting, and despite the way Y/N had assumed allowing for his presence in her car would be the world’s greatest chore, she’s pleased to be in his company. 
That’s why she lifts a wry shoulder and tells him, “The sex was bad anyways.” 
The man’s face pivots to face her, then. “Yeah?” he coaxes for expansion in his molasses-slow croon of a timbre. 
“It was just a little boring.”
“Boring?” 
“Not— maybe not boring. Just, you know. There was nothing…” Y/N drums digits over the steering wheel, “I don’t know.”
The man beside her clears his throat. 
“Was he a missionary in the dark type of bloke, then?” 
“Yes,” she responds, almost instantly. Because missionary in the dark is, perhaps, the best way to describe Cody’s sexual nature. Down to the T, practically. She can’t fathom how many times she’d lay there, hoping he’d switch up into something different, something where his hands weren’t resting shallowly on the bed sheets beside her shoulders, something where his face wasn’t tucked into the crook of her neck, his mouth biting back everything but soft hisses of air as his hips rocked at an mediocrely slow pace. 
Harry’s mouth quirks. 
“But not even that, it’s like. He wasn’t bad at foreplay, or anything. It wasn’t the best. But, you know. It was all sort of… plain.” 
The young woman pauses before she continues with an apathetic, one-shouldered shrug, “And there’s nothing wrong with plain. It gets the job done, and, you know. That’s what some people like.” 
There’s a shift in energy, from there. It’s subtle, but Y/N can feel it, and she wonders whether the morph is a one-sided experience. It happens with the honesty of the context, with the way she swears jade winds over her figure from beside, with the rasp of his voice beckoning something playful. 
“But that’s not what you like.” 
Y/N takes a second to answer. “No.” 
“What do you like?” 
Maybe that phrase is where it hits her. Where she recognizes that the subtle shift in energy is not one-sided. Not by any means.
Y/N risks a haphazard glance into his direction. 
“Not …that,” the girl laughs. It’s a nervous, giggly kind of sound, but it’s not because of him.  
It’s different now, she thinks. He’d been so timid at first — all bashful gazes through lashes glimmering under the beam of headlights, hesitancy shaping his features. Friendly dialogue — alluring, but curt in anything beyond friendly. This is different. This is blunt and forward. This is his eyes raking over her, this is his tongue swiping out over the plush of his pink mouth, this is his dimples peeking as the corners edge up.
“What do you like?” Harry asks again, a note of flirty, lighthearted amusement to his smooth cadence.  
Y/N sighs, the corners of her mouth tipping up. “I don’t know. Oh my God. Why are you interrogating me?”
Harry laughs. His brows rise, and he tips his chin down so the green sparkles at her. “You don’t know what you like?” 
“I don’t know,” she huffs, good natured. And then she gives. “Something… rough. Something exciting. I don’t know, pull my hair, make it hurt a little. Don’t… lay there in the dark and…” her speech morphs into giggles, “Groan into my ear about how tight I am while I’m laying there like a dead fish.”
Y/N doesn’t know how she ends up pulled over in some deserted parking lot. She doesn’t know how her headlights end up off, how the stranger’s hands sew into her hair, how his lips mesh softly with hers, hungrily. Well. She does know, but she doesn’t care about the details in between. Because he’s hot, and he tastes of mint, and the tips of his fingers press into her scalp and tug a little when they brush through, when he slips a palm over the nape of her neck through the work of his cushiony mouth. It’s thrilling, and it’s sexy, and it’s dangerous, she thinks, but that thought becomes clouded and pushed back to the dells of her mind. 
“Such a pretty little thing,” Harry murmurs when they disconnect, fingers splaying over her cheeks. Her heart hammers in her chest, and his irises trail after the motion of his thumb, bumpily dragging over the side of her lips, all the way to her cupid's bow. That same pad of his thumb pauses and tugs, drawing her bottom lip down to show the slightly parted seal of her teeth. 
And then he’s taking his thumb away and nudging the tips of his index and middle finger, coaxing, “Open your mouth, open your mouth.” 
The pads of his digits meet the tip of her tongue and prod in, brushing over her taste buds, until he’s tapping onto the center of the muscle and crooning, “Stick it out. Tongue out for me.” 
A little hum escapes her, plucking at her vocal chords when she complies, only for him to trace further with his fingertips and nudge until he strokes the back. He holds them there and makes a little motion with his chin and a soft tut when her irises stay pinned on him, glazing with a sheen of watery protest at the depth of the intrusion. 
“Ah— don’t you gag,” he tells her softly, every syllable of every word coated with these notes of dominance that almost seem …innate — like the headspace is a pair of shoes for him to slip into with ease. 
It’s filthy, it’s so filthy — this stranger’s fingers in her mouth, this man she’s never seen a day in her life, a complete, nameless stranger, not even an hour prior, prodding into the warm wetness behind her lips. And her, following his aimless direction, just to please him. She doesn’t gag through the way his fingers crook, her tongue twitching and her throat bobbing, her sight growing blurry with the coating of sheen. It’s worth it, immensely, when Harry hisses out a soft curse and groans softly, his brows pinched. 
It’s worth it when he takes his fingers away, and Y/N’s jaw is coated with her drool, when her tongue is still out, when Harry says, in this soft, strained voice, like it’s praise, “Christ, you’re a filthy thing.” 
She finds that this impromptu rendezvous sort of gives her whiplash. She’s parked in some empty parking lot with her lights off, and an alluring stranger’s just untucked his fingers from her mouth. Maybe someone would deem this a new low — having a shag with some hitchhiker she’s scooped off the side of a back-country road. But he’s eyeing her like she’s prey, and he rolls from one action like pages flitting and flipping in a book, and every detail keeps her on her toes. She can’t keep up. Y/N pants wetly, like she’s not sure whether to slip her tongue back into her strawberry mouth, because she’s not. 
Not until he swipes another thumb over the tip of the lax, twitching muscle and beckons, like he’s a little amused, “Aren’t you?” 
Slowly, her tongue retreats, and that’s when his hand slips and cups over her throat, and that’s—
Her pulse thunders like it’s straining to beat out from below her skin, and Harry adjusts his grip, that same, wet thumb drawing short, slow lines over the point like he wants to test the race of her heart, like he wants to know that the pattern has skyrocketed since his palm has made homage over her windpipe. The man hums, pupils trailing and lingering slowly. 
“Tell me—“ Y/N shifts in her seat, spine straightening out against the cushion, and something wracks down every individual knob when his blown gaze pins her the same way his palm pins over her neck, “Tell me you’re my filthy plaything.” 
The press of his hand isn’t harsh by any extent, not until she parts her lips to answer — that’s when he nudges a little firmer. A little harder. He cocks his head at her in this condescending way — like her stifled sound of surprise entertains him, like the subtle, almost unnoticeable jolt of her eyelids, widening, pleases him. Judging by the slight quirk at the edges of Harry’s plush mouth, it does. 
Her tummy coils with unanticipated desire. This feels almost scary. This feels like traipsing over a rope, like teetering over dangerous territory, and the sudden spike of adrenaline only has her thighs clenching together harder. Because this is sweet Harry, the friendly hitchhiker, in his cream sweater with his nice smile, and his charming dimples, and his loose, clean curls, with his warm palm cupped over her throat and the pad of his thumb digging into her pulse. He looks fucking hungry. 
“I’m—“ her statement’s muzzled by the press of his hand, an increase in only a slight increment. It’s enough to wrest a garbled sound from the back of her throat. He tips his head. 
“What’s that?” 
“I’m your…” she pauses when he presses harder, again, and this time’s enough to have her feeling lightheaded, her bleary eyes wandering over his face and every muscle of her face battling the light flutter of her lashes. She thinks a dimple peeks from his cheek. Harry lets up.
Y/N siphons breaths like her lungs have been deprived for ages, and not just partly for the timespan of a short fifteen seconds. Still, his palm is glued over the front of her neck — just there. His thumb strokes over her pulse gently. 
“I’m your …filthy plaything,” the young woman confesses in this pathetic little voice that’d have her ashamed in every other setting. But in this one, it doesn’t. 
Arousal creeps through every fiber of being, instead, crawling through her arteries and settling into her veins like a twisted, dark goo. It thrums through her and sinks through to the trench of her tummy, frothing as chills teem down her back. He’s got this glint in his eye, like a dance around a bonfire in the deep of the night — but it’s just a stray street light that casts its shone as a spotlight when he ducks forward a tad, just enough for it to. When he tips forward, his gaze growing half-lidded, lower and lower the closer he gets, it feels like he starts to siphon every breath from her own mouth as his cushiony lips ghost over her cupid’s bow. Even for the smidge of the second it takes for their mouths to mesh again, it feels like the movement is in ultra slow motion. 
The mold of their mouths together, this time, feels a lot less like she’s got her hands on the wheel — the first time had been almost testing, sweet — something soft that’d shifted into something headier, something firmer. This feels like something he guides, something he takes the clear lead in, from the pace of his hungry lips to the exploratory nudge of his tongue against the seam of her own mouth. Her fingers flex over the center console aimlessly, palm straying, and fingertips catching on a part of his cotton sweatshirt. They twist into the fabric softly when Harry’s tongue strokes over her own. A hand settles onto her thigh. It’s not her own.
“Get in the backseat,” he hums into her open mouth, squeezing over her flesh when she doesn’t immediately comply. He’s got this way of dulling her reflexes, crumbling the semblance of her mind to mush, and Y/N is convinced it has more to do with his touch than it has with the time of night, despite the way exhaustion wears at her tired muscles. “Get in the fuckin’ backseat.” 
When her arms strays and she reaches for the door handle, though, he squeezes at her thigh again, and hums out a displeased note of disagreement. “Not like that.” 
Bemused, Y/N shifts in her seat. A glint of something playful glows in the jade when Harry tells her, “You can find another way, can’t you, pet? Go on.” 
Y/N sits in confused silence for all of three seconds before the man sits back a tad and cocks his head, irises flashing towards the backseat with a playful, little grin quirking at his lips. Like he’s suggesting. 
It takes her longer than three seconds to clamber into the back from the driver’s seat, through the slot over the center console, but it satisfies Harry, evidently, judging by the way he palms over the globes of her backside through her stretchy mini-skirt. It’s not very graceful, and if she was less aroused she’d probably find it in her somewhere to be a bit embarrassed, but. She doesn’t. She wriggles over the cushion, instead, settling back. 
Harry has smarter ideas. He toggles the gear on the side of the passenger seat and sets the whole top of it back, like a makeshift day-bed, and scoots into the back of the sedan through the opening. And there’s not much leg room — not for the two of them, not with the whole back of the seat splayed — and there’s not much room for their heads, either, but they manage to squeeze back, and he’s gripping onto her shoulders and twisting her on his own whim before the young woman has a chance to shift around, herself. 
“Get—“ the way Harry manhandles her with a grip on her hips, (once he’s got her slumped, at least somewhat) — with ease, like he’s flipping a page in a book rather than rearranging her whole position in the cramped space of a sedan backseat — that lights something fiery in the pit of her belly. “Hands and knees, baby,” Harry tells her, grunting softly while her limbs scrabble over the pleather. He pulls her back into him, by the hips as she’s physically molded into it, parroting, quieter, “hands and knees.” 
“Itsy bitsy skirt… so easy to just—” Harry hums, this sort of mischief to his cadence — and it becomes blatantly obvious, the reason for it, when his digits creep under, from behind, and his colossal palms hitch it up, “Oops.” 
She’s wearing tights under it. They’re not the fleece-lined kind, despite the bite of chill in the air outside, but they are there, and Harry spans the pads of his fingers over the barrier like he doesn’t have plans to discard them the practical way. 
He doesn’t. The man stripes a fingertip down her core, from behind, over the fabric and the faint hue of cheeky purple that peeks through, and makes this devious sound of mirth when her whole body twitches. And then he draws the same fingertip back up, in the same line, and nudges a bit. 
“What am I gonna do with you?” Harry coos. The third, slow drag has her arching her hips back. “Hm? What am I gonna do?” He takes almost a thoughtful second, tongue peeking out to swipe out over the cushion of his pink bottom lip, before Harry splays his palms over her bum, “Pretty girl… pretty arse…”
And it’s so calm — he’s so calm, so casual, so nonchalant — Y/N doesn’t even sense it coming until he sighs, and then he’s digging the tips of his digits into the nylon, stretching it from her core, and just tearing. Casually. Nonchalantly. The sound of fabric ripping apart coaxes her jaw to slip open, and her pupils stick to the inside of the door, unblinking, as he just tears, and tears, and tears. 
And she’s not even upset, is the thing. She’s not irritated that this stranger’s just torn the crotch of her tights apart — she can’t be, not when he hums devilishly and strokes over her core, a layer closer. Maybe that’s pitiful. Maybe that’s sad, that she’s so fucking horny that she doesn’t care that her tights have been split open with no prior discourse on the topic, but this direction of impulse — the way she’s not even able to try and guess his next move, it kindles something hot and hungry. 
And if she ever has Cody to thank for anything, Y/N thinks maybe it’d be that he’d inspired her to shave and slip on a pair of decently attractive underthings. 
“These are pretty, too,” Harry tells her, thumbing at the crotch of the thong, just over one side. The young woman gives this dreamy little sigh and arches back up into him further. “What d’you want, sweetheart? Want me to give some attention …here—“
Her spine jolts when he nudges the pad of his index right up against her clit, lightly, over the purple fabric, “Maybe? Is that it? Eager girl.”
He draws a featherlight circle over it, and then another, and another until her thighs are trembling. The tip of his digit taps. She nudges back, and he takes it away altogether. An amused sound slips from his mouth.  
“Say please,” Harry demands. 
Y/N jumps as his fingertips trail to her inner thigh, crooking and tickling in the line they draw. 
“Please.” 
Again, he makes a disapproving tut, and Y/N rolls her cheek onto on a forearm, tucked over the seat. 
His eyebrows climb up his forehead, and his fingertips drift up and down the back of her thigh, drawing closer and closer where she needs him most with every lap. Each word is covered with notes of firm dominance. “Not like that. Like you mean it — like you’re pleading.”
Y/N mulls over the words, her heart thundering. 
“How d’you beg?” 
It takes a second for his words to sink in, but then when they do, she croons out, softer, more desperate, “Please.” 
There’s a soft sound of a breath being expelled, the seat crinkling quietly as, she assumes, Harry sits back on his haunches, head ducked. Like it’s not good enough. Her tongue traces out over her lips and she beckons, “Please, please,” each plea prompting a spiral of unfamiliar humiliation — glazed with arousal — to unfurl. 
“Please, please, please—“ each word emphasized with a rock back of her hips. And finally, he touches her. 
His palm cradles a cheek, and he doesn’t sound even slightly impressed. Instead, his voice comes out exasperated when he tells her, “That’s not convincing. You’re desperate. You want something — you need it, you’re pleading.”
“Please— please—“
“Louder,” he scoffs, “Beg. Beg.” 
“Please,” she tries, desperation creasing her voice strained on the syllable, and Harry drags fingertips, airy, across her inner thigh, from bottom to top. “Please, please, please—“
And finally, something clicks. Something slots together, at some point, when she ditches the inhibitions and her cadence starts to border on a delirious sort of desperation. Finally, something works. 
“That’s better,” Harry says softly, swiping his thumb over her clit, “Much better.” 
She doesn’t pick up on that, though, and she’s still begging, pleading, quietly. Quieter, quieter, quieter — the words growing more sparse the longer he spends time honing on her clit, the firmer his touch becomes. 
“Good girl,” Harry coos, his fingertips latching up under the hem at the crotch of her panties, before he tugs, “Good girl. You ask nicely, and I’ll give it to you. S’that easy.”  
He slips a thumb against her gushing entrance and drags it down, tracing careful shapes over the bud of nerves, before he tugs down on the hood and emphasizes on the new exposure by reigniting the touch with the thumb on his opposite hand. Two hand task — very dedicated. 
“S’this all for me?” the man teases, pinching her clit, lightly, between the pad of his thumb and the side of his index. He sounds a little self-satisfied when he declares, quietly, “I’m flattered.” 
Her lips part as a silent, breathy moan wrests from the back of her throat. It happens when the pad of his long middle digit prods at her entrance and nudges in. The thumb on his other hand sweeps, side to side, over where she’d most sensitive, and he stuffs into her further. And they are lengthy — his fingers. She’d seen them drumming over the center console, and smush over the raspberry tint of his lips, felt them coat her tongue, and felt them press against her throat. They can reach further than her own, crooking against her spongy walls, curling when he adds a second before straightening out and scissoring for the stretch. 
“Christ, you’re gushing,” Harry says, and as if on cue, the pornographic squelch of his fingers working crowds the cramped space, “Jesus— d’you hear that?” 
Y/N buries her face in her arms to muzzle the little sounds of bliss that he pries from her mouth. It’s not until he’s proper fucking into her with his digits, the pad of his thumb dragging tight, little circles over her clit, that those sounds escape her. And when they start, they pour in a flood. Because he works so expertly, so deftly — from the pace, to the angle, to the way he hones on her clit with his other hand, and the filthy dialogue he spews in his honey-smooth baritone. It’s everything, everything, and it prompts the coil in her belly to circle and squeeze, tighter, tighter — a telltale prior to its inevitable snap. She clenches over his fingers helplessly.
But then he just— stops. 
The nudge of his digits skirts to a stand-still within her, and his thumb stops drawing circles, and Y/N just squeezes over him like a silent plea. He makes this sound — this mirthy, deviously pleased hum, like her displeasure at his pause amuses him. It’s pure sadism. 
It’s not until she rocks her hips a bit, a shallow, desperate kind of back and forth, that the amusement seems to slip from his tone. 
“Don’t—“ Harry tuts sharply, taking his thumb off her clit altogether to grip at her hip harshly, “Stay still. Naughty, little minx.”
And she does. She stays still when his voice gets hard like that. There’s a bit of quiet between his snap and the subtle freeze-up of her rocking. Soft breaths sew through the lull, but then he talks again, his tone a little nicer. 
“We’re gonna play a little game, yeah?” 
That’s …intriguing. Y/N shifts over the cushion. His grasp over her hip has softened considerably, but there’s still this humiliating heat that swarms her face at the fact that the crotch of her panties is still tucked against her skin, that everything’s out in the open, that Harry’s practically ogling in lieu of touching her. 
“It’s a bit like Simon Says. Except, when you play Simon Says, you hesitate a little, right?”
The man’s thumb presses back to her clit, and she buries her face in her folded arms. 
“And I don’t want you to hesitate. I’ll tell you something to do, and—“ 
His fingers sink into her, and her shoulders grow tense from the bliss. Y/N muzzles her groan. 
“You’ll do it. Sounds easy enough?” 
It does. It’s easy enough instructions, and when Harry pats at the same hip he’d been clutching over and beckons, “Hands back here,” Y/N obliges easily enough. 
Her cheek presses to the cushion, cool against the warmth teeming beneath her skin, and she lets him manhandle and move her splayed fingers to his liking, arms stretched behind. 
“That’s good,” Harry croons in his low timbre, the warm, lewd praise of it drawing chills up the nape of her neck, “Now spread a bit for me.” 
Y/N does that, too. Her finger pads nudge and press into her flesh, coated with the tights, and her digits crook as the tips dig in to splay — to follow his direction, to please him. And it’s shameful, a pinch in her shoulders as her arms reach back, fingers twitchy, imprinting into her own backside with little divots as she opens herself up for him to do nothing. But his satisfied little hum sends an unfamiliar sense of accomplishment spiraling through her veins. The way his warm palm rests on and pets over the back of her thigh along with it feeds something new and starving. 
“Good girl. There you go. See? S’easy.” 
Y/N makes a little sound into the seat, and her fingers flex as Harry pumps his own digits, a steady rhythm of in and out, paired with a hum from him that sounds absolutely pornographic. 
“Such a good girl,” the man tells her, fingers crooking, but the praise isn’t enough to muffle the bemusement that wracks her when he says in this devious hush, “Let’s try another. Bark.” 
Bark. 
It takes a second for the command to register past the immediate threshold of the pleasure curling in her belly as he strokes at her spongy walls. And when it does click together, his word settling past the membrane of bliss, her initial thought is that she’s definitely misheard him. Because that’s …sort of a ludicrous request. The young woman sounds strewn between groggy and muzzled when she cranes her neck a bit over the cushion and beckons with a confused hum. 
“Bark,” Harry repeats, “like a dog.” Simple and nonchalant. 
Bark like a dog. She’s midway through creased brows, a strained raise of her head, and a baffled what, before the man stills his fingers and takes a grip over her wrist, sliding her hand away. 
And then he smacks her, hard, with his palm on one side, in the same place where her digits had dug in to spread herself open. 
It’s loud, and it stings, and it sends a shockwave through her nervous system, strong enough to have everything buzzing on alert as her forehead pastes to the seat and the parted gap of her mouth struggles to mute a gasp. Maybe the most surprising part is that the hurt feels good, that the sting morphs into something else as it fizzles and ebs, that the hammer of her heart spikes this famished, unfamiliar arousal coursing through her when he doesn’t even bother stroking over the bruised skin. It’s definitely hard enough to leave a ruddy mark under the tights, and Y/N blinks down at the faux leather, wordless and a little gobsmacked. 
And then Harry sighs in this way that’s so …disappointed. And the calmness of his inflection, grouped with the irony of the harsh hit… that has a chill climbing up her spine. 
“That’s not how you play the game, pet.”
He says it in this eerily nonchalant note of disdain, like he’s not just casually tattooed the shape of his hand onto her backside with a blow. Like he expected better. Like it’s a little mishap they’ll gloss over. She doesn’t even realize she’s still got a vice clamped over his fingers until he shifts the digits in her, coaxing her core to flutter around him. Harry sighs again. 
“Did you forget the rules, baby?” he asks, cadence soft and basked in condescension. The man strokes over the heated skin, the same spot where Y/N is sure a subtle welt has peaked to the surface below the thin veil of the sheer tights, “I tell you to do something and you do it, right?” 
Her knees are starting to ache a little, a soreness settling into the joints, but she doesn’t even mind it when his fingers pump again, slowly. 
“That’s how the game goes. Right? I need an answer.” 
She makes a soft sound. A little sound that’s not protest. A little sound that’s not outright agreement. It’s a whimper into a void, but everything about him and his touch lights something alive in her. And she wants more. She’s dizzy off of it when she manages out a breathless, “Yes.” It’s a short word that comes out in a breath, like she’d been holding the air in her lungs. 
Maybe that’s why she’s dizzy. 
“Are we on the same page? Let’s try again, then. Bark.” 
Y/N shifts over the seat. The hand he’d moved has splayed helplessly to her side, and the fingers curl and uncurl as the weight of the suggestion hits her. Because that’s— it’s humiliating. It’s demeaning, and it’s strange, and the fact that he demands it has the tips of a fire licking up at her insides. The young woman makes an uncharacteristically pathetic noise. 
Harry sighs. 
The split second of hesitation is enough, apparently, for another slap, just as hard, in the same spot. It has her rocking forward and clenching over his digits again. Harry’s quick to correct her posture with a hand on her hip, guiding her back in a way that lacks gentleness. 
“I said, bark.” 
This time his voice is harder. Meaner. Y/N gives. 
She gives because the tips of his fingers prod at this heavenly spot inside her, because her skin smarts in a way that has her practically drooling, because she’s dizzy, and hungry, and desperate. Her thighs are quivering when she gets out a half-hearted woof, her lips shaping over the word like the task is a chore to get out. 
“Better—“ another slap, aimed lower onto the back of her thigh, has her hips jutting and the straight line of her spine twisting up, “—but not what I’m looking for. Try again.” 
She doesn’t even aim to please, is the thing, when her yelp overlaps with another smack. But it morphs into something surprised and deliciously pained, and evidently, it’s enough, judging by the way his touch smooths over the stinging skin.
“Oh, baby,” Harry tells her, his fingers stroking like he’s smudging the pink-tinge of bruising, “That’s pathetic.” 
And it dawns on her then, that there’s no winning with this game. When he tuts and tells her, absolutely patronizingly, “So desperate for it, she’s barking like a stray.” 
It dawns on her that she doesn’t want to win. She doesn’t care, because his filthy dialogue, as demeaning as it is, just draws her wetter and closer. As if to highlight on it, Harry crooks his fingers and tacks on, “You’re leaking all over the seats, pet.” 
And she is, she’s sure. It’s a dirty game he plays, and she loves every part of it and more. It has her writhing when he draws circles over her clit, it has her aching for more when he guides her hand back to her backside with a squeeze and a wordless coax to keep spreading. 
“Gonna let me fuck you?” Harry pulls the digits out, dirtying what’s left of her tights and smearing sticky wetness over the back of her thigh, “Hm? Gonna let me—“ his belt clinks as he unbuckles it, and then comes the soft sound of a zipper, its teeth unlatching, “—fill you up?” 
“Glovebox,” Y/N mumbles, hips shifting back when he pets at her thigh. 
His pupils flit, sticking to the back of her head, before they jump back down to his handiwork. Harry’s tone sounds absent-minded and mirthy when he asks, “What’s that?” 
“There’s condoms in the glovebox,” she expands, a little louder than her prior murmur, bracing on her forearms to cast her gaze back at him over her shoulder. 
And he looks rugged in this boyish, youthful way, then, is the thing. The corner of his mouth jolts, lopsided, and a stray tendril has flopped over his forehead. His hands are on the undone buckle of his belt, and his fly’s down, and he sounds absolutely amused when he says, “Are there?” 
There are. 
“You’ve prepared for this, then, have you?” Harry sets a palm onto her hip, squeezing as a dimple pinches into his cheek, “Condoms in your glovebox …like a proper dirty whore?” 
Coyly, she blinks, cheek nuzzled to the seat, and she watches him stretch his arm out for the glovebox as he knees away. 
“I’m always prepared,” Y/N settles on, softly.
The glovebox slips open. There’s rummaging — his torso turns to face it entirely, and then he gleans a shining, golden little packet, tucked between the pads of his digits. The young woman wriggles her hips. There’s this glint of fiery …something. Something playful, something lewd, something hungry in the jade, when he clambers back over, steadying himself with a palm on her tailbone. It coaxes her spine into a pretty, sharper arch.
“You do this a lot, do you?” Harry teases, “Pick up strange men, let them fuck you?” 
She hums in agreement as the man takes the little gold square, snug between his teeth, fingers working quickly, pushing buttons through slots and tugging his cock out. 
“Maybe I do.” 
He tears at the wrapper with his teeth. She knows, because his next words come out a little muffled. 
“Is that right?” 
It’s not. It’s so out of the norm, so far from the usual, but Y/N would be a masochist to string out the arousal that’d built between her thighs in lieu of letting Harry span his palms over the globes of her ass in the backseat. Harry, with his cheeky smile and his sunshine, short-trimmed nails. Harry, with his denim-tethered bulge dragging over the back of her thigh and his filthy tongue shaping crude dialogue.  
She doesn’t see him as he tuts from behind, but she can picture it; his palm cupped over the base of his shaft as he rolls the condom over and then presses the tip against her teasingly. 
“Wanted to be fucked like a dirty whore, is that it?”
Her “yes” stretches and ebs and splinters into a whispery hiss when Harry nudges forward and stretches her out. And then he’s beckoning for her hands, one hand splayed over her hip and the opposite coaxing at her shoulder, tugging and jolting in gentle nudges, mouth shaping over firm, “Hands, hands, give me your hands — behind your back— that’s— just like that.” 
Barred from scratching at the seats with his firm, warm grip binding the joints hostage, Y/N presses her cheek to the cushion. She slumps into his willpower, gives into him, the smush of her face sweaty on the cushion, jolting with every rock forward. The young woman clenches over him helplessly. Soft sounds slip past her lips, pried out by the nudges of his hips, over and over, again and again. Her fingers stiffen and flex, and the arch in her spine shifts when the head of his cock bumps that delicious ridge so deep in her — and it’s like Harry senses it, the way her entire body grows taut like a string. He goes at that too, prodding, again and again, until a whine plucks at her vocal chords. Every shallow jolt of his hips sends waves of paralyzing bliss licking over her insides. Every nudge forward has her slumping more. And when he talks, Y/N barely registers it over the rush of blood in her own head. 
There’s been little things that fall from his mouth — soft curses and hisses as he slides in, hums and groans when he bottoms out, readjusting his grasp over her wrists. Words, though — now he’s saying words. They’re still in that gentle baritone, this sort of luring croon. 
“Come on, baby. Come on — got a stranger’s cock in your pretty, little pussy—“ Harry’s voice catches on a strained note as he pulls out—
…A sigh as he rocks back in, “—and …you’re not gonna struggle?” 
A warmth stems from his grasp, behind her back, and as if on reflex, her digits crook and flex. The danger of the words don’t even register. Because, yeah, he’s right. She’s got a stranger holding her restrained, rocking up against her, and all that peaks in her at the filthy dialogue is a bud of deranged arousal. She doesn’t shoulder forward though, doesn’t try to pull her hands apart, doesn’t sag forward, not even a little, too concerned that even a minute shift will alter the delicious intensity of the angle. 
“Not even a little bit?” Harry tuts, grinding forward, one more time, slow, and then he squeezes over her wrists hard and picks up in pace. Just until he settles into a hard tempo of short, deep thrusts, and her shoulders are aching from the way he pulls her arms back. 
His words blanket her with this patronizing sort of humiliation — the kind that has her spongy walls pulsing over his length and chills erupting from the nape of her neck to the creases between her shoulder blades. “You make it so easy.”
So easy for a stranger to fuck her — so easy, pulling over in some desolate parking lot. So easy, letting him wrap a palm over her throat and stick his fingers past her lips. So easy, following his every command for the reward of his hips pummeling against her own. 
And it’s easy to get close with the way he works into her, tip bumping into a spot that sends waves of pleasure coursing through every millimeter of her nervous system. The kind that has every muscle stiffening to stone until the wave ebs. It’s so easy to lurch higher and higher, closer and closer, when his touch digs into her joints, rendering her helpless to his crude affections. When strained grunts and sordid words fall from his mouth, when his other hand slips from her hip and knots into the hair, at the roots, on the back of her scalp, only smushing her cheek into the seat with more pressure. 
“Fuck,” Harry groans, the pace of his thrusts stuttering as he picks up the tempo into something merciless, his digits flexing into her hair and his body weight sagging onto her frame. 
Every time his balls slap against her clit, teasing where she wants that attention the most, she feels the spring draw tighter, lips smushed to and gaping against the seat. And then he readjusts his grip, lets one of her hands free while he keeps the other pinned, and he coaxes, “Touch your pretty clit, baby. Make yourself cum all over my cock.” 
Y/N makes it to the crest before he does. It’s her fingertips sloppily winding loose shapes over the bud of nerves, it’s his cock hammering down into her, it’s the pinch in her shoulder, and the way Harry’s grip grows harsher over the hand he still has pinned, the closer he gets himself. The way his digits are still flexed at the roots of her scalp, the way his moans and curses are garbled with pleasure with each pump. The way her helpless fluttering, when she tips over the peak, draws this long, sordid groan from him as he cranes his neck back. And then he slows, ducking his chin to watch below through slow thrusts. 
“Dirty girl, cumming all over a stranger’s cock,” Harry swipes with a thumb where the mesh, toying at the seam of her hole when he goes deeper, again, slow. 
And then his grip on her wrist gets hard again as his fingers flex, and he holds onto her hip and guides her in a steady-paced, back and forth bounce over cock. He chases his own releases, every motion rough, and full of control, and so brimmed with this unfamiliar hunger. She’s mush by the time his head tips back, and he gushes ribbon after ribbon into the condom. She’s mush when his grasp over her wrist grows lax, when he knees back clumsily on his knees, when he discards the condom, wrapping it into the confines of its wrapper, when he fixes her purple panties back over her crotch and strokes over the back of her thigh with an amused huff. 
“Alright?” Y/N vaguely hears Harry say from behind when she doesn’t instantly sit up, his voice bordering on amused. 
That’s. Yeah, Y/N thinks. She’s great. There’s still this rush of blood in her ears, and an ache in her joints that interweaves with the soreness of her muscles, but it’s all in such a good way. She makes a barely coherent hum of agreement and rolls her shoulder forward, planting her palms onto the seat to sit up and glance at the time over the display in the front of the car. It’s nearly three in the morning now, and it hits her then, that she’s so tired. She’s so tired, she feels like every piece of her energy had been strewn up and pulled tight on a rope, and now it’s all wasted away. 
Harry gets it. Or he seems to, at least. Sleep beckons her with a whispery croon and a soft touch. The corners of his mouth crook up, and he pats at her hip. 
“Hop up, pet. D’you want me to drive the rest of the way? S’just a little bit, now.” 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers. She doesn’t let strangers into her car in the middle of the night from some empty road, she doesn’t fuck them in the backseat, and she certainly doesn’t let strange men drive her car to some unfamiliar location, only lacking being undisclosed from its visible street name on the GPS. Y/N doesn’t do any of that. But she nods weakly and lets their roles flip. She’s mid-raising the back of the passenger seat by the time Harry jogs around to the driver’s seat and slips in. 
In the rear-view, her reflection greets with her unshed tears and bloodshot eyes, mascara smudged below. He turns to face her and strokes a hand down her thigh. He picks the same hand up and sets it onto the gear-shift. Switches to reverse. 
The first thing he says from the front of the car, strawberry mouth quirking as his eyes direct to the back-up camera, is, “I’m sorry about your tights. I hope that was alright.” 
When they pull up to the motel, Y/N doesn’t ask questions. There’s only been a span of, maybe, ten minutes passed between the parking lot and their final stop of the night before Harry pulls into a parking spot and shuts the car off. 
He tells her, “This is my stop.” 
Y/N doesn’t do hitchhikers, and exhaustion wracks at every sinew of muscle in her body. She half-expects him to wordlessly hop out of the car. He doesn’t. The man fixes her with a smile, and says, “Could I get your number, maybe?” 
It’s not an odd request by any means, but if she weren’t so tired, maybe she’d ask more questions. Her pupils would wend over the shoddy motel sign, and the shit cars parked beside them, and she’d wonder what the hell they were doing parked in front of some abandoned-looking motel. She’d ask why this was his stop, and not a home. Instead, she pulls a napkin from her glovebox and digs for a pen. She scribbles her digits and hands them off. In the brush of the cool air, from the night, when she clambers out to swap spots with him, she wraps her arms about herself. When she takes a seat into the driver’s side, she expects him to walk away. He doesn’t do that either. Instead, she rolls her window down when he beckons, and Harry leans onto the car and tells her, “Get home alright, yeah?” 
It’s a miracle when she hobbles up the steps of her apartment complex, when she pries open the front door and crashes into her sheets. The blankets envelop her like a warm hug, and she doesn’t even bother pulling off her tights. 
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It’s a week before she gets a phone call. There’s no texts, and the morning after, when she’s greeted with radio-silence, she thinks that maybe she’d dreamt the whole thing. 
Her tights, ripped at the crotch, prove otherwise. 
She’s in bed, days later, when her screen lights up with a call. It’s an unfamiliar number, and curiosity peaks before she swipes over the answer toggle. 
“Hello?” 
A gap of silence, a breath, and a familiar, smooth baritone on the other end of the line. 
“Y/N.” 
There’s a little sound of the bedsheets stirring as she freezes up. He’s caught her off guard. A little laugh plucks at his vocal chords, tinny on the other end of the line, like he’s amused by the stretch of lull. Her lips part, the corners of her mouth inching up as she hears a sigh from him that seeps in all the way to her eardrum. But she doesn’t have time to contemplate what to say or how to say it, because he doesn’t let her get a word in before he’s talking again. 
And his next words are not a playful jest at her lack of response, or anything friendly, really. In fact, the confession, said so nonchalantly, causes chills to erupt down her arms. 
“I was going to kill you that night.” 
The chills aren’t the initial reaction. The initial reflex is the crook of her mouth to morph bemused, the pinch between her eyebrows, and this sullen feeling of dread that twists up in her stomach. A laugh bubbles in her chest, because, what the fuck? 
But then he keeps talking. 
“Thought about draining the life from those pretty eyes the second you rolled your window down,” the voice on the other end sighs, and it’s got this sort of …reminiscent quality to it. Like he’s tracing the steps of the night back to its starting point. Reliving it when he tells her, “It’s such a thrill, you know. Taking that from someone. So intimate.” 
The young woman doesn’t make any sounds, kind of appalled by the sick joke. Because it is sick, it’s disturbing, and it’s a twisted way, at the least, to strike up a conversation if he’s …looking to do what they did again. This isn’t the Harry she’d met on that night. This isn’t the same one who’d worn the cream sweatshirt, and talked all friendly with this smooth, wholesome charm — this wasn’t the man she’d let into her car, this wasn’t the man she’d let do all those filthy things to her, in the backseat of her sedan. This doesn’t feel like the same man at all, and she wishes she’d been aware of the sick sense of humor to his character before she’d let him …violate her. Y/N’s just about to budge in with a disgusted comment, tell him off for calling her so late at night to mess with her, but he beats her to the edge of the gap, yet again. 
Except this time, he sounds sort of frustrated, and the phrase comes out like a scolding, the tone of his cadence firm and irate. “Didn’t your mum ever tell you not to talk to strangers? …Didn’t anyone ever tell you not to trust strange men on the side of the road? S’just …bloody stupid.” 
He laughs. It’s this soft sort of chortle she’d been so charmed by that night — it’s identical, except then, it was this sweet sound full of wholesome mirth. Now, it feels cold. Odd and detached. Surreal.
“But you… you made it so easy,” Y/N listens to every word that comes through the line, hanging onto every syllable of the empty threat as dread churns her stomach. His words from that night crowd behind her skull. You make it so easy. “So friendly, so sweet. Just wanted to chat on and on. I was going to kill you, and you wanted to have a shag—” 
Harry tuts. Her heart hammers behind her ribcage, and she only realizes that her breathing has slowed and that her grip on the smartphone’s grown white-knuckled when it shakes against her cheek. She’d let him drive her car. She’d let him get into her car, she’d let him lure her into pit-stopping in a deserted parking lot, she’d locked the doors, and dimmed the lights, and let him open her up with his fingers and his cock. And then she’d let him drive her car, and take down her number. There’s a moment of mortifying silence.
Harry sounds deadly serious when he tells her, “Don’t you ever pick up another hitchhiker.”
The line goes dead. 
Y/N calls back. The number she reaches belongs to a payphone, unanswered.
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judesgfirl · 10 months
Text
LATE NIGHTS IN THE MIDDLE OF JUNE - JB22
summary ; you and your friends go on a vacation to greece, and you might just have met the love of your life.
face claim — sophia birlem
A/N ; this is my first post so pls excuse me if it’s bad i just wanted to try 🥲🥲
yourusername
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liked by yourbff, sophiaaemelia, and 5.456 others
yourusername greece we are so excited for you 🥳🥳
tagged yourbff & sophiaaemelia
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yourbff can’t wait for the margaritas!!!
user ur so pretty omg
sophiaaemelia best week with best girls!!!
kaihavertz29 thanks for stealing my girlfriend
yourusername don’t be dramatic 😘
user how does she know kai and sophia?
user pretty sure they met when kai first signed for chelsea!
judebellingham
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liked by masonmount , kaihavertz29 and 123.678 others
judebellingham week off in greece 🫡
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masonmount have fun bro!
user I WANT U SO BAD PLS JUDE
kaihavertz @yourusername 😏
yourusername ?? kai ur weird
gioreyna miss you bro, have the best week!
user we’ve been dating in my head for 4 years
philfoden ☀️☀️
user hey lol 😂😂😂😂😂
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yourusername
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liked by judebellingham, kaihavertz29 and 25. 345 others
yourusername kai texted soph and now i have a pet following me around 😒
tagged judebellingham
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user I SCREAMED
yourbff #y/nude
kaihavertz29 where’s the “thank you kai!!” ?
yourusername i hope you choke
judebellingham ur so obsessed with me 😍
yourusername ?? boy i’ll throw u into water
sophiaaemelia my girl!!! and jude….
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judebellingham
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liked by yourusername, jobebellingham and 255.789 others
judebellingham happy wife happy life
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yourusername this was not what i meant by a soft launch
judebellingham i can’t help myself when u look like that 😭😭
judeswife I FUCKING MANIFESTED THIS
user stay in bvb or else. 🔫
jobebellingham 🥸🥸
kaihavertz29 everyone say thank you kai
user they look so happy 🥲🥲
yourbff better take care of her.
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note: this may suck but i just wanted to try 😭 lmk if u liked it and if i should continue with this 🫶🏼
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haknom · 1 year
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MUTUAL AWARDS!!
honestly i used to want to do them sooo bad when i was actively posting on tiktok etc but never had the chance soo... EVERYBODY CHEER HERE THEY ARE!!!! *insert crowd cheering*
here are the awards for tonights show; funniest mutual(s), the one(s) i cherish most, my #1 hater, mutual that only speaks truth, best music taste (the artists we have most in common with), mutual with the best series/fics, the mutuals i look up to the most, the mutual i love hearing life stories from, and lastly, the mutuals i love being around!
let’s start off strong and go with my #1 hater !! 
lately, i’ve been getting sm HATE from my mutuals bc of the jungwon fic i am currently writing and it’s been coming from MANY of them. our nominees (by ME) for tonight are; fee, soph, rei, and diana.... It was really hard choice but. @feeeli wins the award bc tell me why SHE IS SO TOXIC DANGG like cmon bae it was never that serious 💔 we literally went from enemies to lovers so It’s an easy win tbh BUT SECOND PLACE WAS DEF REI LIKE DAMN SHES ALSO TOXIC 😭 i can say one word and i’ll get a “shut up” in response I SWEAR.
now that that little rant is over (love u both sm!!) let’s move onto the second award... the one with the longest name - best music taste (the artists we have most in common with). obviously my mutuals and i stan a lot of similar groups but there is the one mutual who literally. I js adore them for this. ANYWAYS NOMINEES FOR TONIGHT ARE moki, rei, and sia (literally gives the best song recs tbh). Really difficult to choose Once again but this award goes to... @mokiverse !! u don’t know the GASP i let out when i saw that u also love dept on ur carrd. LITERALLY NOBODY KNOWS HIMMM makes me so sad BUT DEF DESERVED THIS dept4life yall ! sia and rei have GREAT music taste esp sias song recs SHADY AND ONE NIGHT >>>> been obsessed since she gave me them!
3rd award of the night is..... funniest mutual(s)!! nominees for this one are rei, soph, flo, sona, sia, mari, diana, yen, sunny, esther, eju ema, sav, fee, and jules!!
no joke.. i wish i could js @ like every single one of my mutuals for this one bc u should see how much they make me laugh under the span of 5 minutes..
hard choice tbh and im Srs abt this one but i’ll try and limit it to at least 5 mutuals 😞 BUT ANYWAYS these 5 mutuals r like IDK They make me giggle, their comebacks r so funny and good, THEIR HUMOR?? dont get me started, and their jokes r js so good. the winners for this award areee @soov @son4taa @hanniluvi @wonieleles @eundiarys and @feeeli (again Ik) GUYS DONT BE SAD PLS if u dont win this is all for fun..... BUT REIS JOKES R SO FUNNY IDK WHY even if theyre directed at me im still gonna giggle.. SIA >>> her dn jokes when i first met her always made me laugh ESP THE CHEWING GUM ONE i forever hold onto it LMAOOO 😭 SONA AND SOPH.
theyre literally twins i swear Bc why do i let out the same three laughs whenever they make jokes. SOPHS SMAUS R SO GOOD AND HER RESPONSES TO EDITS OR REACTIONS TO THINGS LMFAOOO i saw ur reaction to that one edit soph Dont hide “eats my walls” WDYM??? 🤨 and sona is js so funny theres no reason needed. DONT EVEN TRY AND DISCREDIT HER 😒 i giggle sm its unbelievable. FEE!! double award how r u feeling bff!! ever since we met each other under esthers comment section LMAOOO ive always found u funny 😭
LIKE U SWITCHED UP SO FAST AFTER FINDING OUT I WROTE BAD NEWS?? WERENT U JS THREATENING ME A MINUTE AGO 😭😭 jules taehyun smau??? I giggle left and right I WAS LITERALLY LAUGHING AT 7:17 AM LIKE THATS HOW YK SOMETHING WAS WRONG WITH ME LMAOOO
okay now for the 4th award “the one(s) i cherish most” No joke. this one is literally impossible idk how i was able to narrow it down 😓😓 but todays nominees areee.........................................................JK U RLLY THOUGHT 🤣🤣🤣 i cherish every single one of my mutuals! theyre all special to me to the point where i cant even separate them into categories nor rank them. BUT ANYWAYS next award guys!
this award is called “the mutuals i look up to the most” once again! this one was acc a hard choice since i look up to everyone but if we’re going by who i admire the most / am inspired by then it’s not that bad. here are the nominees!! sona, soph, rei, sia, yun, yen, esther and sue!! the winner(s) of this award will now be announced. @soov @soobnny @amakumos @hanniluvi @son4taa @yenqa @urszn Funny how they all won the award... BUT FR! yun has been my main inspiration for starting an acc SHOCKING IKK LMAOO and when she followed me back tears formed in my eyes HELP i was so surprised tbh but i admire her sm and enjoy ALL her works! as well as sue! i love sue and when i saw that she followed me back??? i literally SCREAMED.
LIKE THE SUE FOLLOWED ME BACK?? i rarely interact with them both since yk a little too shy to do so BUT YOULL SEE ME IN UR ASK BOXES OCCASIONALLY TRUST ! soph sona yen esther and rei i love them smm IDK WHY BUT they js inspire me to write and continue series i want to discontinue LMAOO support them Now. i will appear under ur covers at night do Not test me rn. 
next award!! “the mutual i love hearing life stories from” easy win tbh. nominees r mari, raven, and rose! AND TBH everyones life stories r so entertaining to hear but theres something abt this one mutual’s life... ESP THEIR LOVE LIFE HELLO???? the winner is.... @aezrali !! LIVE LAUGH LOVE ROSE’S LIFE STORIES. YOU LITERALLY LIVE IN A DRAMAA I SWEAR the asks u used to send me always had me so intrigued no joke. PLS BRING THEM BACK 🙏 still rooting for the second lead btw 🤞
7th award tbh Why am i on a roll. “mutual that only speaks truth” Literally everything this mutual says is agreeable (UNLESS ITS ABT ME AND THIS JUNGWON FIC 😒) this is like the 3rd award this mutual won LOL but tonights nominees areee raven, rei, and soph! but the winner is @soov ! EVERYTHING U SAW ABT THIS FIC IS WRONGGGGG (idk what u say so Dont ask me.) BUT ANYWAYS rei literally speaks truth and adds humor into it SO its an automatic win tbh 🤞 never mess with rei I learned that the hard way...
second last award for tonight isss; mutual(s) with the best series/fics! i’d say i nominated all my mutuals for this one but i do have personal favorites! @amakumos @son4taa @hanniluvi @yenqa @eundiarys !! all their seires and fics r so good. Literally go support them pls 🙏🙏 you’ll see me reblogging their posts A lot. So clearly theyre good 😂
LAST AWARD GUYS!! MUTUALS I LOVE BEING AROUND ! as i said before its impossible to put my mutuals into categories like these but if i HAD to choose i’d say @taejays because they’re very comforting and fun to be around! i enjoy our little chats about fics etc 😁 @wonieleles ever since i met sia i always loved being around her! shes one of my favorite people to speak with or at least have her presence around me.
@redm4ri MY OG BFF!! when we first both joined walmart enhypen we literally connected so quickly?? unbelievable LMAOO but youre so exciting i love u sm @feeeli everyday We shall thank esther’s comment section that brought us together bff 🫶 it’s been like 3 weeks of knowing u and it felt like we’ve known each other since diapers...CRAZY RIGHT IDK WHY BUT IT SHOCKS ME EVERYTIME I THINK ABT IT i love ur company sm and our little secret gc LOLOL forever my #1 rival 🤞
@isoob MY FIRST MUTUAL ON THIS APP. everyday i wake up and i am thankful i met u! we literally fell off for like a good 10 months BUT WHO SAID THAT STOPPED OUR FRIENDSHIP 🤣 LOVE U SM EJU!! @ox1-lovesick ty for sending me that ask during math class! i literally smiled ear to ear when i saw it i was sososooso excited and happy u dont understand LMAOO but i love being around u sm LIKE its js sm fun I MISSED U SM WHILE U WERE ON BREAK THO 💔
and everyone in walmart enhypen! i cant rlly @ everyone before this becomes a whole long fic type post LMAOOO but i adore all of u guys and hope the world treats u best! i always wake up grateful that i accepted that little invite rei posted If not... this post wouldve never been this long tbh LMAOO BUT U GUYS R AMAZING AND SO SWEET I LOVE U ALL!
hopefully this wasnt THAT long PLS FOR READING AND I HOPE URE ALL HAPPY WITH THE AWARDS!! 
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astridthevalkyrie · 6 months
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soph, have you seen the diskhorse? 👀
if you mean the x reader stuff, i've seen the og post and anything my mutuals have reblogged, although i saw it pretty late (relatively) because i only found it last night before i went to bed.
(if you didn't mean that i'm so sorry lol because this post is really long)
idk i have thoughts here and i'm sure people have already articulated things better than i could, but there's two separate points the post is talking about—how a reader character is described looks wise (+ gender), and then everything else that makes up them up, ie personality, backstory, skills. there was also something about a mary sue, i think, about how most readers have not been trained as super soldiers or aren't celebrities and so they become hard to relate to.
so! here is things i think factor in for people when deciding whether a chracter is a reader or an oc. feel free to disagree, these are my thoughts and how i classify them. i'm gonna try to avoid saying "imo" this whole thing is my opinion lol.
1. giving the reader a name
i've seen both sides of this now. some people are completely taken out of a story seeing y/n or f/n or just ____ while reading, and others (like me) are taken out when they see a name that the author has assigned. authors can also do a range of things when it comes to name, and there's a difference between, say, the story starts with the reader meeting the character while eating a cookie and so he calls them cookie the whole time (any pet name, sweetheart or darling or whatever is in this catgeory as well) versus the character just being named avery.
the former is much easier to read for me because, y'know, that could still be me, someone could call me cookie if they saw me eating a cookie (sidenote if anyone called me cookie i would jump off a cliff) but my name's just not avery in any way shape or form so it suddenly becomes really hard to self insert (and reminder that the entire appeal of x reader fanfics for most people is to imagine they're the one in the story).
both things are valid! now that enough people have expressed their fondness and disdain for both, they clearly have their merits to different readers and it is completely up to someone which they prefer. anyone making complaints about either (usually the name crowd talking about how much they hate y/n from what i've seen) or anyone who says "y/n isn't me" or "katie isn't me" is just not reading fics that make them happy. in a subgenre all about making yourself happy and being self indulgent, you're letting yourself be taken out of a story by something that will keep other people very invested in it.
have your preferences. indulge in them. surround yourself by them!
SO. a reader being named does not make them an oc (and while i don't think people need to tag it, it would be nice if they did) until we get to the second point.
2. first person vs second person vs third person—and POV!
first person gets a lot of bad rep in fanfic, even when it's NOT an x reader fic. why is that? aside from how it's associated with wattpad one direction stories ("i woke up and threw my hair into a messy bun"), reading first person to many many people feels like reading out of someone's diary. even if it's from the reader's point of view, there's a disconnect that's there that simply does not let people self insert because it reads too much like the self insertion is meant for the author only. and because of the aforementioned connotation people have with it, it comes off as childish or cringy.
STILL. first person does not an oc make (didn't expect the wiseness here didya). i feel bad because first person takes me out of a story too and there are definitely more than several first person stories that aren't childish or cringy at all, BUT here's where i think the first and second point start to meet.
first person pov with f/n—still an x reader fanfic. first person pov with a named character—oc.
the same goes for third person. i've written third person reader and though i tried to avoid saying the reader's name at all (it becomes exceptionally awkward in third person), i did still use f/n everytime it came up.
second person pov is the only one that works with a named character and is still an x reader fanfic.
excuse me! someone calls out. what if i write from the character's point of view and not the reader's?
i'm so glad you asked! pretty much the same rules apply. this is when we get into how second person can be used without us seeing the reader's thoughts, and fanfic authors do it all the time. "he wanted to kiss you so bad, he thought of nothing but your lips the whole week" and "'i want to kiss gilda so bad,' he groaned, thinking of you" work, while in the same vein "i wanted to kiss ashley so bad" or "he wanted to kiss martha so bad" doesn't work.
the character's pov is easier to write in some ways because:
3. reader's personality
there is much much MUCH less to worry about when writing from the character's POV now that you don't have to write the reader's thoughts. (third person omniscient writers, y'all are so brave.) of course that's why smaller headcanon or sexy posts are easier to write (which doesn't make them any less enjoyable or valid), it's because they center on the character and how they would act while having very little to do with the reader. they do well on tumblr because tumblr favors shorter posts that are easy to consume, not because they're particularly better. if you ask people what their favorite reader fic is, most will give you a fic in which the reader most certainly has a personality.
it is highkey impossible to write a fullfledged story without giving the reader a personality, even if you write from the character's POV, which no one should feel obligated to anyways. everyone has already said this, but yeah, it is also impossible to create a character that will relate to anyone.
but do they have to be super competent or kickass or the biggest flirt or a ninja warrior gymnast superhero?
uh, yeah, they kinda do. here's where the hard truth comes in—these fics are meant for readers to self insert, but they're primarily meant for the authors of those fics to self insert into. you might not want to read a story in which everyone and their mothers think you're the greatest thing since sliced bread, but escapism is different for everyone. if someone following the pov and name rules i mentioned above, their reader could have all the personality in the world, coupled with a tragic backstory and a career that would put barbie to shame, and it would still be a reader fanfic, and "personality" does not need to be tagged. it would be extremely goofy if it was.
(although, a lot of fandoms DO tag features their reader has in case you want to block them out on ao3—think mha with their "reader has a quirk" tag.)
and finally, the most hot topic issue.
4. giving reader a set look/reader's gender identity and pronouns
yes. "your pale skin" takes me out. "your slim waist" takes me out. "your blue eyes" takes me out. pronouns that aren't mine take me out. any descriptor that wouldn't apply to me takes me completely out of a reader fic. unlike personality, it's not impossible to write a story without putting physical traits on a reader.
....that's not to say it's not hard, though. i hope people recognize that. if you're writing other characters interacting, flirting, kissing, or having sex with your reader, there's going to be at least some instances where "she looks up at you" just has a different effect than "she looks at you" and you don't wanna not include people who are shorter than the character and sometimes you have to sacrifice the picture you're trying to paint for inclusivity or vice versa. many authors are picturing either themselves or an oc in their heads as they write, and it's extremely difficult to check yourself after every sentence to ensure that absolutely no physical description is present.
(in a much smaller picture before i go on, i'd like to specifically mention the word "blush" because people bring it up a lot. unpopular opinion, but i really don't see a problem with the word, mostly because i think despite its dictionary definition, blushing is not limited to cheeks being red, it's synonymous with blood rushing to your cheeks, which can happen to anyone. my skin tone is dark enough that people can't tell if i blush, but i do blush regardless, just, y'know, discreetly. it becomes something else if the narration or a character points out a reader's cheeks are red, but otherwise i really think anyone can blush. if people want to avoid it as i mostly do to just not ruffle feathers, i usually stick with "you feel your cheeks heating up" and that has about the same effect.)
so, yeah, it's difficult. it's also not wrong—and i don't think it creates an oc. people can write a reader that looks like them and have it still be self insertable to other people or even have their works read by people who don't mind physical descriptions when reading x reader fics.
obviously there is an issue with how poc are treated in fandom and representation in general with the lack of dark-skinned readers and male readers, which is, as pointed out by others, because there are simply more white female authors. so what's the solution, so as to not alienate poc or ppl with pronouns that aren't she/her who are reading fics that contain afab she/her readers or descriptors?
(ik that's wordy, shh, i'm tired.)
tagging! everyone cries simultaneously. tag your stuff!
yeah, pretty much, exceeeeept. it's one thing for people to tag their fics with black!reader or afab!reader or variations of those, and it's an entirely different thing to say white!reader. you know why you don't see that? because it would leave the same bad taste in people's mouths if, say, netflix had a category about white empowerment. with basic historical and social context, it's not a great idea.
the better idea is probably to tag something like "Reader Has A Physical Description" or something along the lines that someone else could word better than me. then either in the tags or in the author's note (in the beginning) mention the types of descriptors, i.e. "reader will be described as having pale skin." that's it! go ahead and make the reader pale to your heart's content. pale readers and people who don't care will be able to read and others who hopefully make the effort to read the tags (always read the tags!) will just scroll and find a fic they like more. on the opposite side, "Reader Has No Physical Description" could also work as a tag to assure people that your reader will not have their physical traits described. that covers skin color, eye color, hair length and texture, height, etc.
and if something does not exist for you, if you want more amab readers with they/them pronouns or if you're like me and you're south asian and want a reader that jams out to bollywood music then you're always, always free to write one of your own or request from authors who allow it. as most poc readers know, having someone who is of the same race or ethnicity as you write something with their experience clearly woven into the story can be very personal, as it is for them to write.
so! tldr: pov matters a lot when determining oc or reader, and names, personality and looks less so, but everything is about what shapes your experience and preference. tags are important, as is keeping in mind that x reader fics are meant for self insertion both for the author and the reader. write what you want, but let's be conscious of alienating people who are already lacking representation in fandom. happy reading, happy writing, hope those characters love you like you deserve!
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mountttmase · 6 months
Note
Hello hello last chapter of the first series🤭
‘Jesus Christ, I’m gonna need you to get that thing off right now’ Mason laughed from the doorway and you turned to see Mason looking at you with wide lust filled eyes and his tongue practically hanging from his mouth. I'LL SAY THAT'S THE PERFECT WAY TO START THE NIGHT
ALL THE BOYFRIEND-GIRLFRIEND PARST🥹
‘I don’t think there’s a word in the English language that could let you know how I feel about this. About you’ he told you as he gripped your waist. You couldn’t deny you felt the same as you looked over him in his suit. It fit him like a glove and and you couldn’t wait to peel it off of him later but Mason seemed to not want to wait. ‘I’m serious though, baby. There’s no way I’m gonna be able to go a whole night without fucking you first so just help me out here’ he laughed, reaching for the zip of your dress but you moved too quickly for him and his hands fell away from you. BEHAVE MOUNTTT
‘In 20 minutes yes. I made sure I was ready early cause I knew this would happen. Gives me time to be late like normal’ he told you, and you laughed at the fact he had it all figured out in his head. You were sticking to your guns though as you didn’t want to go out a sweaty mess as you’d spent so long getting ready. AHHAHAHA HE IS A LITTLE GENIUS
‘Nuh uh lover boy. You’re gonna have to wait till later’ you laughed as he followed you out of the room like a sad puppy. NOT HER CLEARLY WANTING HIM TOO
‘Don’t worry gorgeous, we’re sat on the same table as Kai and Sophia. Pretty sure Ben is on our table too he told you and you instantly relaxed knowing that you would be with people you knew and when you arrived at the table you realised Sophia was patting the seat next to her for you. HIM READING HER LIKE AN OPENED BOOK
THE MEETING WITH KEPA, SCREAMING 😂😂😂
‘Leave them alone, Kai. They’re in love, it’s sweet’ OH SOPH THANK.YOU FOR EXISTING
‘Come dance with me?’ he whispered and you nodded shyly before following him to the crowded dance floor. The music was slow, and he held you tightly at your waist as your circled your arms around his shoulders. ‘I’ve missed you’ he whispered against your lips before kissing you slowly and you smiled as he pulled you even closer. BYYYYEEEE, HE IS ADDICTED TO HER
Your placed your lips next to his ear, taking a deep breath before whispering ‘I love you’ shakily, in hopes he could hear. CRYING ALL TWH LIQUIDS I HAVE IN MY BODY, MY BABY HAS GROWN
‘I love you, too. So so much’ he laughed before kissing you gently, feeling like the only two people in the room. ‘I think it’s safe to say we’ve reached the summit now’ YOU DID,BUT NOT THE TOP TOP YET...
‘Nothing at all. These are happy tears’ you told him before he kissed them away gently, resting his forehead on yours as you both slowly swayed from side to side. ‘You remember when you told me that us meeting was fate?’ You asked him and he nodded down at you with his lip trapped between his teeth. ‘I think you might of been right’ you laughed and he burred his face in your neck, placing small kisses against any section skin he could access. OH MY GOD, I LOVE HER HIM, THEM
‘Mase wait, I’ve got my big granny knickers on to hold me in. Just look away’ you laughed and he was about to protest but didn’t want to wait any longer so he turned away as you shimmied the dress from your body and laid it on the back of a chair. Mason did as you asked and was looking away from you as he undressed himself down to his boxers, making sure to hang everything back up before he flopped back down on the bed with his hands over his eyes. GIRL HE DOESN'T MIND ABOUT THE GRANNY KNICKERS TRUST ME
‘Good, now come sit on my face’ WELL MOUNT
THAT SMUT...🤭🤭🤭🤭
THEY POSTED A PIC OF THEM, THEY ARE OFFICIAL
I LOVE THEMMMMM
MUM AND DAD FOR EVER🩷🩷🩷🌺🌺🌺
I loved this chapter cause she was so brave and just gave herself up to him and told him she loved him 🥹 and it just meant so much 🥹
THANK YOU FOR DOING THIS BESTIE IT MAKES ME SO HAPPY 🩷🩷🩷🌺🌺🌺
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pucksalotguys · 2 years
Text
Till Forever Falls Apart , Bonus Chapter: The Cup Day….Gone Wrong
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WC: 3.2K
Nate gets to celebrate his big win back in his hometown with Sophia and Graham. Lots of cuteness and sweet moments with a mention of someone that might just cause the day to be ruined and put lots of thoughts into some
*Master list in pinned post
(Lemme me know what you think 💕💕💕, feedback means the world !)
Nate had been anticipating Cup Day all summer; he couldn't believe that he would get a whole day to himself. It was the first time the city was celebrating him rather than Sidney, so he woke that morning both excited and nervous. A part of him questioned whether it would be similar to his celebrations
He smiled when he noticed Graham cuddled up to Sophia while still in bed. He felt like the luckiest man alive because the life he was living was a dream come true. Things were amazing after such a challenging time, and he never wanted them to revert to all of that.
"Hey...." Sophia whispered as she rubbed her eyes and kissed Grahams head "You woke up early, its not even 7 yet"
"Can't sleep" Nate admitted "It's a big day"
"I'm so excited" she smiled "It's gonna be amazing babe, I can't believe the day is finally here"
“You remember how I used to bother you and promise to take care of everything one day ?” Nate laughed
"I always knew you would, always" she assured as she sat up "I've always believed in you, always"
He blushed and leaned over as he kissed her, feeling Graham's hands push him away "Excuse me ?"
“My Shoph” he mumbled groggily as he stretched “No you” Nate chuckled and picked him up, placing him on his lap as he fixed his hair and took the pacifier out of his mouth, something he had been having trouble with lately “You don’t love dada today ?” Graham whined and wrapped his little arms around him “I wuv you” “He’s so cute” Sophia grinned and rubbed his back “A little cuddle bug”
They had been back in Nova Scotia for the summer, Graham being Nate’s full time until the season started again. Everything was great, they bonded well and got into a set routine. He was a bit worried at first that Graham wouldn’t take well to having Sophia around 24/7 but he was proved wrong. They were becoming close and most nap times he only wanted Sophia to put him down in his crib or only her to feed him. The biggest thing was sleeping in their bed every other night
“Even when he sleeps in our bed ?” Nate asked 
She nodded with a smile “Even then, I can’t get enough of him” “I see cup ?” Graham asked as he cuddled his stuffed puppy Nate grinned “The cup is downstairs, are you ready to go on the parade ? There’s gonna be lots of people there” “I stay Soph” he pouted “Soph is coming too G, so is grandma and grandpa and auntie Sarah” Nate explained “Everyone’s coming then when it’s all done we can come back home” Sophia nodded and grinned “It’ll be fun, and remember my mommy and daddy are coming too” “And Rosie” his face lit up “She come with gamma and gampa too ? And tee tee Mila and uncle Danny ?” Nate smiled at the mention of Sophia’s family, right after they met Graham for the first time a few months back he was drawn to them. Even Sophia’s dad James who was typically rather stern was a whole other person around Graham. He felt thankful they made the trip down to celebrate with him “And your cousin Rosie” he added 
“Yay !” Graham clapped “wuv Rosie”
“But we gotta get ready for the day, do you think today we could do no paci ?” Nate asked softly “No…” Graham whined “It mine…my paci” “It was just a suggestion” Nate handed it over, as much as he wanted to be the strict parent he wouldn’t dare take away such a big comfort from him “He’s still little” Sophia added “Have you and Hannah talked about this ?” “I have, she said to do what I wanted. I guess I just feel like I should help him get rid of the paci since she’s the one who got him to not use a bottle” he admits “I wanna show her I can do it too, that we can do it” Nate looked at her She grinned, now while her and Hannah weren’t best friends they did get along and talked to each other way more over text. It was a slow build to what they had now and the fact that she wanted her included in parenting decisions meant everything to her “I think we should let him do it at his own pace” Sophia nodded “Plus Rosie’s gonna be here and he always tries to act like a big boy around her”
“My parents haven’t stopped asking about when they’re gonna meet her, they’re so excited” Nate chuckled “I may have told them she’s quite the sassy one” She chuckled “She humbles the crap out of you” He grinned “We’ll see how they do together at the parade, should be a fun day” “I’m glad Gabe’s coming” she said “It’ll be nice to see him” “Yeah, Cale couldn’t make it” Nate shrugged “He’s got his time with Ella, they decided to go on vacation together” “I know” Sophia smirked “She told me, I think it’s the big day honestly….he’s gonna the big I love you” Nate laughed a bit “I”m not laughing because I’m teasing him I swear, it’s just….does he know that she’s planning on telling him too ?” “No clue, which is gonna make it all that much better” Sophia smiled “I can’t wait for her to call me and tell me how it went”
They finished getting ready for the long way that awaited the both of them, Nate was nervous as hell. He took some time to himself as he heard Sophia and Graham playing downstairs, it was quite possibly the biggest day of his career and there was a big worry in the back of his head. The what if, the what if Sidney showed up out of the blue at his celebration. He pushed the bad thoughts of out his head and went downstairs
**********
“People” Graham whispered “Lots” Sophia grinned and held his hand “They’re all here to see dada, you ready to go in the car ?” “I touch cup !” he pointed to Nate who was walking to the car holding it in his arms “Big cup !” Nate smiled as he overheard and brought it to him “One day if you want to, you can do this too” he whispered “You can be better than me, you will be in every way Graham. I did this for you, so you could be proud of me” he said as he picked him up “I love you G” “Wuv you dada” Graham smiled as he hugged him tightly 
Sophia stood back by Nate’s sister and parents as they let Nate and Graham have their time together. She knew more than anything that he was excited to show him off and have the memory with him even if he didn’t remember as he got older “I’m so happy you’re here” Nate’s sister Sarah held her hand “This is where you belong with us here…I hate that time was lost” Sophia simply nodded and grinned up at her “I love you guys, and the past is the past. This is where I belong and where I always want to be. Nate is my soulmate” she whispered “And I never ever wanna live or imagine life without him again. Or Graham, I may not be his mother but I love him as if he were mine” “One day you guys are gonna have one of your own, and you’re gonna get married” Sarah smiled “I know it”
“Time will tell” Sophia grinned “But between you and me.....I hope it’s soon” she smiled She looked at the crowd as the parade came to a stop finally and walked off behind Nate “I don’t think I’ve ever seen that many people before in my life” “Neither had I” he admitted with a chuckle as he held Graham ‘Hey your parents get back to you ? They at the house already ?” “Yes” Sophia nodded “All set, tonight should be fun. Your own big cup party finally” “And I have you two by my side” he kissed her “Best night ever” The car ride back home was quiet, Graham was fast asleep once in his car seat and he felt exhausted as he held Sophia's hand. A part of him felt that he didn't deserve it, that after everything that happened he wasn't worthy of having Sophia's family join him. The insecurity still ate at him sometimes and he tried his hardest to hide it 
"Paci" Graham whined bringing Nate out of his daze as he rubbed eyes "Paci now"
Nate shook his head "Paci is at home, we're in the car G. It's okay, you don't need it". He didn't think much of his words but apparently for Graham it meant the end of the world as the tantrum started. He looked at Sophia who was as shocked as him from the outburst
“Mommy” Graham sobbed, mostly tired from the long day “Mommy !” he screeched louder looking at Sophia “Paci !” “He called me mommy” Sophia whispered, it wasn’t the first time he had done it either. Often he’d call her it and then she’d correct him gently, she had spoken to Hannah about it and was told it was okay but something inside of her just felt like it was wrong. Even with her approval and the repeated talks they had during lunches or dinners together she felt like she was overstepping in a way “Graham, I said no” Nate said sternly after some silence “Please listen, we’re almost home” “Mommy !” he continued to cry looking at Sophia “Mommy !”
“Soph…he wants you” Nate whispered lowly “You can handle it if you want to, if not let me know. I can tell you want to but there’s something holding you back, it’s okay. Hannah said she wants you to be involved as much as possible. You’re his mom too, she said so. You’re here all summer, she knows that” She nodded and looked back at Graham who was red in the face from all his crying. She reached over and held his little hand in hers “Graham, no paci right now babes. Paci is at home, we don’t have one here. Can you be brave and wait for us to get home ?” “Kay mommy” Graham sniffled, his voice hoarse from the crying “All he wanted was you to comfort him” Nate grinned “See” Sophia chuckled “I guess you’re right” He smiled and continued the drive home, he looked to his side as he drove past Sidney’s parents home and spotted them with Sophia’s sister and brother in law. Opting not to make a big deal he finished the drive home and parked, seeing his family and some other friends and only Sophia’s parents “Nate” Sophia’s dad James grinned “Congratulations, it’s nice to be here for this day” he went and shook his hand “We got here just a bit ago” He grinned and gave him a hug “G, look who it is ?”
“Gampa, Gamma !” Graham smiled and walked over to hug them “Where Rosie and tee tee Mila and uncle Danny ?” Sophia looked at her parents “Where are they ? You guys were on the same flight here” Her mother sighed “We got here and….and Sidney was the airport, Rosie saw him and insisted on saying hello. His parents were also there, I assume they were picking him up. Another woman was there as well, dark hair and blue eyes. Rosie recognized her as well” Nate sighed “It’s okay, they’re family and she of course feels that connection more with him since he’s her godfather and they see each other more. I’ll be here whenever they wanna come by”
Sophia shook her head and placed a hand on his back “Let’s go get Graham down for a nap and then we can come back down”. She knew it wasn’t on purpose but seeing Nate so deflated at the mention of Sidney devastated her “If it helps I wanna yell at my sister” she mentioned “Don’t” Nate shook his head “The connection with….him is more deep than the one I have with them. I understand it, it’s okay. When they decide to come here, it’ll be okay, I don’t want drama with you guys, nor drama with me. We’ve had enough of that, let’s focus on the good, okay ?” She nodded and kissed him “I love you, it’s your day. I’m here, Graham’s here and that’s all that matters”
He grinned and put Graham down in his crib as he handed him his paci and stuffed animal “See you in a bit G, sweet dreams” “Wuv you dada, wuv you mommy” Graham yawned as he drifted off to sleep 
Sophia grinned and leaned down to kiss his cheek as she turned on his music and walked out with Nate “Ready to go back down ?” “You’re such a good mom” Nate kissed her “I love you so much, I….I know we’re not engaged or anything but please know I want to have kids with you and I wanna marry you. You’re my finish line Sophia, you’re who I will always want and choose in this life”.
He wasn’t gonna tell anyone yet but he had the ring picked out back at a jeweler in Colorado. He had spoken to her parents and sister about it, he just needed a moment. A perfect moment where it’d only be them, he knew it would come soon but in this moment he just wanted to love on her She in response wrapped her arms around his waist and pressed her head against his chest, there was no doubt in her mind and heart that her was the love of her life. All her fears and worries melted away anytime she was with him, he was her person. “Is this the part where you take me away and make me yours” she whispered in his ear “I was kind of hoping you’d suggest that” Nate smiled as he picked her up They stumbled into his bedroom and were intimate while everyone else was celebrating outside, The perfect way to start the night
**************
“Cup shiny” Graham touched “I sit ?” “You wanna sit in the cup ?” Nate laughed “I don’t know man, I know he’s little but he looks 4” Gabe added with a nervous chuckle “He might break it” “You’re not wrong” Nate said back “But when else will I be able to do this ?” “He’s a meatball” Gabe picked Graham up “A big meatball, he’s lucky he’s so damn cute. It’ll be worth the dent, put him in it” Sophia laughed and covered her mouth “He’s too big for it, Graham…baby are you okay ?”
“I stuck” he pouted as he tried to move “No you’re just too big for it babe” Nate laughed and got him out “Come on let’s take a picture next to it, you and me then all of us”
Sophia snapped some on her phone and turned her head when she heard her sisters voice, “Look tee tee Mila is here…..finally” she muttered the last word to herself “Hey guys” Nate smiled and picked Rosie up ‘And hello to you too” “Uncle Nate, I made you this !” she handed over a drawing “That’s you and your cup” “I love it” Nate smiled and kissed her cheek “Look Graham it’s Rosie” It was adorable to see them together, if anything it made Nate want kids even more with Sophia. They had talked about the possibilities and were even open to surrogacy but had agreed to wait for now for Graham to get a little older and for things to settle “You two go play” “Can we talk ?” Camila asked him “You and I ?” “It’s all good” he nodded “Your dad told me everything, I get it. He’s her godfather and it was a coincidence, it’s all okay. You guys are here now and that’s all that matters. Please go put your bags in the house and come celebrate. I’ve been waiting for you guys” he gave a smile and walked away
“Nate….” “Let him be, a side was chosen” Sophia said and stopped her “Coincidence or not a choice was made and it’s not cool” “I know and we feel horrible” Camila said softly “What was I supposed to tell him ? He’s here with his parents, his friend Charlotte and they’re all ostracized here this weekend. I had no idea they were flying here this weekend too. Had I known flights would have changed Sophia, I like Nate you know that” “But you love him more” Sophia responded “You do, it’s written all over your face. I’m sorry I don’t live near you and can’t be there 24/7 as a good aunt, I won’t do it if I have to be around him. My choice is and always will be Nate, forever and ever. If that means that….that we’re distanced then so be it”
“Sophia don’t say that” she whispered “I’ve been dismissive of so many things in the past, I’ve lost who I was and I’ve been hurt. I won’t let any of that happen to Nate or Graham” Sophia said “I think it’s best you guys leave tomorrow. There’s somewhere you can stay I’m sure”
“This is for you” Camila said as she reached into her purse and handed over a card “Sidney’s friend Charlotte told me to give this to you”
Sophia looked down at the business card and info and sighed “I don’t have any desire to speak to a journalist” “Sidney doesn’t know she gave it to me to give to you, if I were you I’d at least call her” “Fine” she nodded “I’m sorry about today, it’s not what you think” Camila apologized once more “You’re my sister and I love you. I love Nate too and Graham, you guys are important to us. I don’t wanna lose you guys” “Then don’t ever put…him above Nate” Sophia said coldly “I feel horrible about it but it’s just that Sidney was so-”
“I don’t wanna hear his name again” she whispered “Please” With that she walked back to the party and shoved the card into her shorts pocket. Thankfully the night continued as normal and soon it was all over. The day had drained them in a good way, she was still upset over earlier but it all went away when she saw Graham and Rosie sitting in between Nate’s parents as they munched on a smore together “She’s so cute” Nate whispered “She’s like a teenager stuck inside a 3 year olds body, Graham literally thinks she’s the coolest person”
“Feeling is mutual” Sophia chuckled and pet his cheek “Did you have a good day ?”
“The best day ever” Nate responded with a kiss to her forehead “Because of you being here with me”
“I love you” she grinned “I love you more” Nate smiled 
He put his arm around her as he looked at his phone as she chatted with his friends, “Congratulations on everything, I know today is your day. I hope it went well”, Nate knew who it was from and simply blocked the number. He was forever out of his mind and quite frankly he was sure he’d never ever let him in again. He looked over at Sophia and grinned, he had exactly who he needed and nothing would ever change that. The past was the past and that was that.
(If you read all this leave feedback and ALSO…..this will be covered in Sidney’s sequel as well from his perspective !)
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overnightheartbeats · 7 months
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📸 / soph!
Send a 📸 to see 3-5 pictures that my muse has/has taken of your muse(s) // @erstwhles
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Brunch with his girl. Always trying to impress her with his restaurant picks, and she seemed to approve of the outdoor space, which is a huge win for him! James would definitely post this later on instagram, just to show her off.
This picture was taken after a long day of being out. James obviously suggested doing one more activity because he refused to let the day end, and he got this picture of her reaction to his suggestion. One of his favorite pictures though, Sophia looks stunning!
Weekend trip! The moment he got some free time, he planned a trip for them to get away from everything and be on their own for a few days. James surprised himself how quickly time flew by, and yet it didn't feel like enough time with her. This picture was taken after they dressed up for a dinner reservation, and decided to ditch it last minute to go watch the sunset instead! They drove to a small shop down the street and got some late night bites instead. They even stopped on the way to buy some sandals at a random store because their original shoes were a bit uncomfortable. He had to take the picture to commemorate the perfect evening, one of his favorite memories.
Rooftop bar, late-night drinks. The night was interrupted by a quick call, and he was only slightly annoyed (ironic given how many interruptions are his fault,) but he couldn't help snapping a quick picture of her. When he looked back at the photo, the irritation faded. She looked so happy, how had he gotten so lucky?
Lunch date! And of course, she stopped by his office to get him, which he absolutely loves. Before they headed out, James had to get this picture because he's still in awe of how beautiful Sophia is. Yep yep, he's in deep.
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I’ve been tagged by frequent partner in headcanons @sophiainspace for the Last Huzzah To This Hyperfixation fic meme, which is appropriate as I am also likely giving a last huzzah to the Arrowverse! (Incredibly reluctantly, kicking and screaming against my brain all the way, but what can you do)
My first fic for this fandom was Your Move, on 30 November 2019, an incredibly creepy prelude-to-Eowells/Hartley that set the stage for many of my later works
My favorite fic I’ve written is…oh so many choices. The one I go back and reread most often is If You Wanna Fight (We Can Go All Night), which is playful smutty Coldwave—with an honorable mention to With Benefits, in which aro Len and ace Mick end up doing affection at cross purposes
My fluffiest fic is probably Day In, which is a Flashpiper domestic fluff interlude in the middle of a fairly angsty series—I can throw in rest-point fluff sometimes!
My funniest fic is, hands down, Floordrobe Malfunction, which is exactly what it sounds like: Lisa/Cisco/Hartley get caught in the middle of V-polyam shenanigans and end up switching clothes
My saddest fic is Worse When It’s Late, one of only two fics I went into the knowing they couldn’t have a happy ending. (The other is At All Costs, which is just about as bad)
A fic I almost didn’t post was Worse When It’s Late, just because it was so much darker than my usual fare. I’m proud of how it turned out but I was terrified of how people might react to it
The fic I most enjoyed writing is probably still Tam Len, because I loved the worldbuilding and the characters ended up taking on a life of their own, to the point that several plotty things just…resolved themselves in the end, entirely driven by the characters!
My favorite ship is…oh boy. I have loved so many ships in my time in this fandom. Coldwave maybe? What’s not to love about Coldwave—they’re queerplatonic partners in crime who would rather die than admit a Feeling. I adore them
My favorite femslash ship is probably something with Nora West-Allen? Nora/Spencer maybe…or Nora/Spencer/Joss—all of whom I wish I’d written more of (and had more plans for, before the muse forsook me!)
My favorite OT3 is Coldwestallen, because no matter which way you slice it somebody is getting ganged up on by two people who are too similar for anyone’s good, and the resulting dynamics are impeccable
My favorite non-romantic pairing is…well. If I wanted to rules-lawyer this, I’d say Coldwave, because the aro Len headcanon remains strong. However in the spirit of the question I’m gonna say Barry and his dads, both as they interact with each other and as they interact with Barry’s partners about him. There were a lot of meaty, messy dynamics there that I wish I had explored more (and that I had plans to, before the muse evaporated)
My favorite character to write is Leonard Snart, by a long shot. I vibe with his strange strange brain. He taught me so much in my time writing him. I still want to study him under a microscope. I’m going to hold onto him for a long time even if the hyperfixation is fading
My favorite neurodiversity fic (I love that this is a category, Soph) is Pride In The Little Things, with post-diagnosis feels. It’s rueful, because I think there’s often an element of that following a diagnosis, but it’s hopeful too
The fic I most clearly remember writing is Complication, a Coldflash-to-Coldwestallen fic that was meant to have more to it and got cut down for the sake of making a deadline. I’m pleased with how it turned out, but there’s another universe where it was a much messier slow burn
My favorite written-out-of-spite fic is Unplanned, in which I took out my frustrations with the ‘Mick’s head pregnancy’ plotline of Legends s6 (feat. supportive Gideon who understands what dysphoria is)
My most read fic is No Hero (No Less Loved), one of my older Coldflash fics—one I’m not overly attached to, in truth, but benefitted from being a popular pairing and having a lot of chapters to add to the hit count
My least read fic is Pride In The Little Things, my newest fic with a very rare pair indeed (Lita/Jerrie Rathaway, my and @blueelvewithwings lil ship). I didn’t expect it to get many hits at all, so seeing it with even this much interaction is surprising
The WIP I most regret not finishing is an unpublished sequel to Complication that would have built off the ideas I cut from the original fic, including appearances by Joe and Henry, and also explained why Len was so weird all throughout Complication. I hope to force myself through finishing it eventually!
My favorite gen fic is Found, a Rogues-as-family fic that was meant to set the stage for more in-depth stories that never happened. It still stands on its own pretty well though
My crackiest fic is Critical Fail, a ‘Team Flash plays D&D’ fic written at the behest of an IRL friend (who, to my knowledge, never ended up reading it—ah well, it was still fun!)
And a bonus holiday fic is By Candlelight, with Coldwestallen celebrating both a contemplative Hanukkah and a rowdy West family Christmas
I believe my co-conspirator @blueelvewithwings has already been tagged, but I’m also going to tag @a-redharlequin who has been my instigator, cheerleader, and also partner, who I wouldn’t have found without this fandom. I love y’all and I’m so happy to have spent three years plotting together!
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ravenelyx · 8 months
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For the fic writing ask game! 13, 22, 38, 53, 66, 75!
Hello Soph <3<3 thank you sm !!
13- Do you listen to music while you write? If yes, what have you been listening to recently?
Nope, too distracting truly 🥲 no matter if it has words or not -- by brain stalls and I just end up either staring at the wall or singing :")
22- Do you title your fics before, during, or after the writing process?  How do you come up with titles?
Sometimes i do it before the story itself even exists (like ilyet and arranged heartbreak or the wips listed in my masterlist), sometimes in the middle (an epiphany moment in which my brain goes YOU KNOW WHAT---?).
Titles are usually based on the core of the story if the fic is rather long:
I love you in every timeline: inspired by DSMOM originally -- it's actually a wordplay on the entire story : it holds its essence entirely, playing on the identity of the two girls, the contrast of Sebastian's emotions and the way time affects the whole ordeal (how he himself has as well, directly on indirectly, affected both past, present and future). I have a very late scene written out already which explains pretty much everything, but I can't spoil it and I feel like a quivering leaf when i think about it (brain write faster pls i want to reach it soon --- but not so soon bc it's literally towards the end)
Arranged Heartbreak : pretty self-explanatory (i had thought the title to be lame at first and then I just... didn't care)
As for the other short fics, they're pretty simple titles tbh --- except for the list in my masterlist: I went all out and those don't even exist yet
38- What is your most self-indulgent posted story?
ILYET itself 🥲
She's my precious, my baby, my dearest love --- also, MC 2.0 herself is based on my OC (Lys Lovelace my dear) since I haven't written anything about her (appearance and stuff is still ambiguous as a true x reader story)
53- What is the most-used tag on your ao3?
I expected it to be something angsty : it's actually "fluff" :||
Just fluff
I'm a sappy idiot fr
66- What’s a fun fact about ILYET?
Edit: one fun fact no one probably knows about is that the whole fanfiction was actually born from a teen wolf edit that ended on my tiktok fyp... yeahhh... and it's a stydia scene, when Lydia walks up to the group asking "where have you guys been?" and Stiles turns around, completely struck. And then idk why my brain just decided to take that scene and just... make the whole thing up into what it is now...
75- Is there a particular fic that readers gravitated towards that you didn’t expect?
Pretty much all of them -- I've never really had any online presence before tumblr so I wasn't really expecting anything when I first started writing, really :"")
I remember when i posted the prologue of ilyet: it was late at night, (friday night, about 11:45 pm -- i remember it like it was yesterday) so I just posted it, went to sleep and expected nothing in return -- then I woke up to like 300 notes in barely a few hours and I literally jumped out of my skin🥲🥲 those were the good times
But fr -- I expected Loved like to flop bc I literally word vomited it at 4 am, posted it without even rereading it, and then woke up to ppl liking it fr (I still hate it, don't doubt, but still...)
Aaaand... yeah.
Ask game here <3
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joeypottrs · 1 year
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not a single checkmark on my dash, we love a group of POORS !
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hanniluvi · 1 year
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hi hello soph !! i just started reading love news and 🙏 it was saurrr good! i wanted to ask if i could get added to the taglist but i read it’s closed so </3 hashtag im so late to the party booo JDLSKS anyways🫶 love news is so funny like ur humor?? top tier HDKSJA i really love it!! keep up the amazing work. here’s a star for u ⭐️ and rmbr to stay hydrated and safe^^ have a lovely day/night!!!
SCREAMING RN. im fangirling so hard dont even. BUT OMG HII!! IM GLAD YOU LIKE LOVE NEWS :( <3 will continue to try to post more amazing chaps 🙏 GLAD U LIKE MY HUMOR TOO 😭 omg a star 😝 i love stars sm 🙏 YOU TOO,, MAKE SURE U DRINK WATER AND EAT PLENTY !! and yes i will have a lovely night cause you sent an ask 🤭 SJSJ ANYWAYS have an amazing day/night as well <33 gonna go kick my feet in the air now 😝
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rainydawgradioblog · 11 days
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Rainy Dawg Radio's Favorite Covers
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GRACE YANG
Remi Wolf's cover of “Pink + White” by Frank Ocean
Frank Ocean's Blonde is such an important part of my life. It soundtracked my high school years. Blonde is so precious to me and I hold covers to high standards. (Anyone traumatized by Car Seat Headrest’s “Ivy” raise ur hands! Jk. It's okay at best.)  Blonde is a very hard album to cover as it's perfect as it is already. The stakes are so high. If you're covering Frank Ocean you better put your whole soul and body into it. 
Fear not, Remi Wolf brings new light into a modern classic. Remi's voice is full of energy and power. Her style and charisma is undeniable. 
One of my favorite features of Remi Wolf's cover that I think songs post 2020 severely lack is the powerhouse belting section in the last quarter of the song. Remi has the range!!!! Not many popstars can say that…MY DEAR MY DEAR MY DEAR ITS ALL DOWNHILL FROM HEREEEEEEE! 
REMI WOLF ON TOP 💋🐋
DJ EMI
“Hybrid Moments” by Misfits, covered by Helvetia
“Hybrid Moments” is a model Misfits song. Released in 1985 off the album Static Age, Hybrid Moments didn’t need a cover. It's catchy and simple, with the shallow horror of the Misfits. But, since one was made, I’m glad it was done by Helvetia. A  tangy, plucked guitar introduces the version instead of the thumping tom drums. It’s an unlikely mix, both versions are competing with each other: the muted, whiny vocals are inverse to Glenn Danzig’s dark belting, the slight reverb contrasts the heavy distortion, the slower BPM to the higher, etcetera, etcetera. Go listen for yourself. 
Soph
The Chicks’ cover of “Landslide” by Fleetwood Mac 
Everything about this cover is incredible. The harmonies, the mandolin, the bass, the slide guitar. It brings me back to when I was really young and my parents would play this song in the car. I never appreciated the cover that much then, but now I listen to it at least once a day. I don’t consider myself a country fan because I like it at times but I can only take so much at once. However, the country twang in this cover is truly so immaculate. It makes me want to ride a horse through random fields in Tennessee (Hannah Montana style), and you’ll never catch me wanting to do that any other day. I also adore the original song by Fleetwood Mac because who doesn’t love Stevie Nicks. The simplicity of the original really underscores her vocal and lyrical ability, but nothing will hit quite as hard as The Chicks’ version. 
AUDREY
“Peepin’ Tom” by Courtney Barnett, originally by Kurt Vile
Courtney Barnett and Kurt Vile collabed on their joint album Lotta Sea Lice in 2017, where the two artists took turns hopping on each other’s tracks. “Peepin’ Tom” was originally “Peeping Tomboy” written by Vile and released in 2011. Six years later, Barnett’s vocal performance adds a necessary layer of queer nuance. Lyrics like: “I came across some girl / And I admired her / I was a peeping tom / More than it seems” resonate deeply with the dyke listener. Once a tale of boyish perversion, now more closely resembling the childhood longing of a closet case. For best results: listen whilst on a camping trip with your first love.
Zola
“Across the Universe” by Fiona Apple
Originally created for the soundtrack of Pleasantville, Fiona Apple took the Beatle’s classic, and made it much dreamier. Keeping most of the same instrumental, she retains the same lyrics. It might be one of my favorite songs of all time. Fiona’s melodic voice paired with John Lennon's lyrics create the perfect song for long moody walks in the rain, while you contemplate lifes choices. A top pick of mine for late night drives, or crying in bed, or even background music while studying. Something about it just makes me reminisce on my youth, as it feels like it should be played in the background while a much younger version of myself frolics. It provides a wonderful contrast to the chaos of everyday life. In my eyes, Fiona Apple can do no wrong, but this cover further solidifies it. Bonus points for creating a version that wasnt produced by one of my least favroite humans, Phil Spector!
Sean K
Björk - “Venus As A Boy” (Kali Uchis Cover for Like A Version) 
LINK
Live on Like A Version, Kali Uchis does the impossible and performs a flawless cover of Björk’s “Venus As A Boy”. Even in the shadow of the iconic original track, Kali’s reimagined version manages to hold its own and sound even more ethereal. Kali captures the essence of Björk's playful vocals while adding her own signature inflections. On stage, Kali shines alongside her accompanying band. The clear musical chemistry between her and the band makes for a highly engaging performance that you will want to watch again and again. To this day, Kali’s performance continues to blow my mind and makes me hope more artists will take on the challenge of covering Björk.
tide2004
“Map Ref. 41°N 9°W” My Bloody Valentine, originally by Wire
One of my favorite songs by one of my favorite bands, covered by another one of my favorite bands. My Bloody Valentine changed the whole landscape of the song and I really like what they did with it. The sound and production remind me of Loveless. This was put out in 1996 on a Wire tribute album Whore: Tribute to Wire. It was also their last release until their 2013 album MBV. Awesome way to go out in my opinion. 
Gemma
Denzel Curry’s cover of “Bulls on Parade” by Rage Against the Machine 
I don’t listen to a lot of covers. Most of the time, in my opinion, the original artist is able to capture the emotions of a song far better than those who try to recreate it. For me, this song is a great exception. Curry’s vocal performance has a fullness and power to it that fully draws you into the song, whether you are jamming in your room or just grocery shopping. His gravely intense delivery and rapping ability work greatly to the song’s benefit, and the guitar is downtuned with a fuzz effect, making for a more sludge-y and aggressive sound overall. I can honestly say I would much rather listen to his version rather than the original, despite how iconic of a song it is.
k-murph
“fake plastic trees” - phoebe bridgers, arlo parks 
the love of my life, otherwise known as phoebe bridgers, has produced an insane amount of fantastic covers. her covers of “friday i’m in love,” “day after tomorrow,” “it’ll all work out,” and “you missed my heart” are just a small selection of genuinely incredible picks. however, nothing quite comes close to the deep love i have for this cover of radiohead’s “fake plastic trees.” it can be found most accesibly on youtube or soundcloud, and between phoebe’s voice and arlo parks on the piano, it’s an absolutely masterful take on the already fantastic song from an objectively iconic band. phoebe’s vocals are smooth and times powerful (petition for phoebe to PLEASEEEE belt more often. the roughly 5 seconds we get on this track is not enough), making the journey through the song a perfect course of emotions. i think that this song is so fitting for phoebe’s style, and the piano backing track takes the song in a different direction that is so beautiful and sonically satisfying. the original “fake plastic trees” is a work of art, and the fact that this cover captures and reimagines its essence so beautifully is truly impressive.
youtube
Sofia 
“Kangaroo” by This Mortal Coil (originally by Big Star), off It’ll End In Tears
One of the rare occasions that I think a cover is way better than the original…
I think that the Big Star version of this song is just okay – the cover, on the other hand, is (as put by user kateybereny in the comments under the YouTube video) “achingly beautiful”. The desperation in the singer’s voice in the cover is what makes it so much more affecting than the original, especially in the last few lines of the song, where she repeats “Oh, I want you / Oh, I want you”. The guitar (and maybe cello?) in the intro makes my stomach sink every time I hear this song. Awesome song for having a crush on someone. This song meant so much to me last spring quarter, so I think the nostalgia factor definitely contributes a lot to this being my choice (Honorable mention: “Superstar” by Sonic Youth). 
Ben
“I knew that he was gonna sound great singing and it’s so… I don’t know… there’s really not too many words for it” 
Those are words from Fiona Apple herself, said of Elvis Costello’s cover of “I Know.”  Performed at the “Decades Rock Live” event, a now defunct concert series put on by VH1, Costello was offered the song after Apple covered his song “I Want You.” What intimacy is lost via Costello’s live performance is made up for by his searching delivery, one that is offered support in more robust instrumentation. Though I remain partial to Apple’s version, the song’s bridge is improved upon by Costello, its lurching staccato chords swelling as he pleads “Baby, I can’t help you out/while he’s still around.” What I love most about the cover is that — where Apple seems resigned to her fate as simply an option to her married suitor — the strife in Costello’s voice suggests that he remains desperately in denial. I also love the giddy jumps Fiona Apple does after running on stage to hug Costello at the conclusion of his performance. 
Thanks for reading! We hope you have a great Spring Break... stay tuned for more posts!
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For the movie ask thing!!
6,9,18,28!!! ♡♡♡
best experience going to the movies
doing one for georgetown city lights and northgate bc I can't pit two of my favorite movie palaces against each other. for georgetown, moana late at night soph year, huge crying with you and Anne and katt, or a star is born with anne. for northgate, eeaao the second time with Conrad+Caleb, or dune alone on a Tuesday night. I simply fucking love going to the movies. honorable mention to f9 which was my first back in theaters post COVID.
underrated I just did but another one is hearts beat loud, very sweet movie.
favorite movie soundtrack INTERSTELLARRRRRRRRRRR forever. or sing street altho now I prefer the off Broadway cast recording
favorite animated
big hero 6 🖤 which I haven't rewatched in forever. and howls moving castle oe
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joeypottrs · 1 year
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tumblr ruining my colour coordination by having a seasonal spooky icon smh
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