#tlc second generation

[princessselene126]

Secrets

Hey all! Long time, no see. I was on vacation the other week and got inspo to write finally. My little cousin--who's also into tlc--and I decided to work on our second gen fanfics together. So I gift you with about 3900 words of Peony and Apollo hiding their relationship from her family and failing miserably. I decided this fanfic officially makes me a comedic genius.

Second Gen Masterlist masterlist

Peony wouldn’t say that she and Apollo have been sneaking around, per say, but she’d definitely say they were trying to keep their blossoming relationship a secret from their families for as long as possible. Keeping things from the Thornes was easy. They weren’t even on the planet. Peony’s family on the other hand… was more difficult to keep things from. Her mother literally had a built in lie detector, could hear Peony from the other side of the palace when she wanted to, and was able to get secrets out of anyone by using her glamour--not that she’d ever used it on Peony or Yuki without permission. Her father was a brilliant political mind and read people’s body language in a split second. Then there were Iko and Yuki, both of whom were extremely nosey gossips. 

Though she didn’t try very often, keeping anything from her family was virtually impossible. And something as important as a relationship? Forget it. She should give up right now, tell them, and get it over with.

But she didn’t want to.

She wanted to keep something for herself just this once. Peony always had to do things for the good of her country or family. This time, she was allowed to hold onto her and Apollo’s relationship, to keep it to themselves, for as long as possible. 

Apollo didn’t have any objections to secrecy. He even seemed to like the idea. Something along the lines of “the second Iko finds out, everyone in our families, and weird pseudo-family will know too.”

So they agreed to keep it a secret. 

It wasn’t so hard at first. They were best friends who spent most of their free time together anyway. On the outside, it didn’t seem like they were spending more time together, like there was any change. 

It also helped that they’d always been physically affectionate with one another, hugging, snuggling, holding hands as they walked. In retrospect, they should have seen what was happening between them years ago. It didn’t matter though. What mattered is that they were together now. And happy. And no one suspected anything. 

However, it got harder to contain as more time went on.

A month into their relationship, they started getting careless about where in the palace they kissed each other. In the beginning, it would only be in her bedroom during times when she knew her parents, sibling, or aunt wouldn’t randomly walk in. Then she started kissing him in her bedroom at any time of day. Which, again, wasn’t too daring. The likelihood of her family walking in unannounced these days was extremely low. They respected each others’ privacy.

Things started changing a week after her parents’ anniversary ball. Peony danced the night away with Apollo. She was always polite and kind during these celebrations, but this time she looked more excited and upbeat, as if she was truly enjoying herself instead of playing the role of Crown Princess.

An hour before the ball was set to end, she took Apollo’s arm and pulled him out to the gardens. The air inside felt stifling and she needed to cool down. Hand-in-hand they walked through the flowers. It was dark out, but paper lanterns filled with flickering candles were strung up along the paths for people to see. There was another couple outside, but they were on the far end of the gardens. 

Peony steered them in the opposite direction until they were underneath an ancient peach tree. Grinning, she put her hands on his shoulders and gently pushed him backwards until his back was against the trunk.

Apollo raised an eyebrow at her, but there was a hint of a smile on his face. “What are you doing, Your Highness?”

“Shhh,” She shushed him, leaning in close. Normally they were the same height, but right now, with heels on, she was a few inches taller than him. Peony tilted her head down and gently pressed her lips against his. 

Apollo hummed, kissing her back for a few long moments before pulling away. 

Peony frowned, concerned. “What--”

“We want us to stay a secret, we’re kinda out in the open here, don’t you think?”

Okay, that was a reasonable response, but also, she’d thought this through. On the other hand, there was, admittedly, a little too much wine in her system. “The only other people out here are on the other side of the garden, the branches make it hard to see us, and I only want to kiss you. That’s not too scandalous.” 

He laughed softly, the sound music to Peony’s ears. “Princess,” he said. And she loved hearing him call her that. From anyone else, it sounded mandatory, like a title, because it was. But when Apollo called her princess, it was both a term of endearment and a show of respect. It made her heart flutter every time. “As much as I’d love to kiss you right now, I think you’ve had too much wine.”

Peony pouted.

“Don’t give me that look, you know I’m right.”

“And if you are?”

“Then I walk you to your bedroom, tuck you into bed, and go back to my room.”

“What if I want you to stay?”

Apollo blinked, staring at her for a few seconds. “No.”

“No, not like--” She rolled her eyes. “Not like that. I mean, just lay with me. It’s not like you haven’t fallen asleep in my room before.”

His cheeks flushed, and Peony could tell he felt stupid for assuming what she meant. She lifted her hand from his shoulder to his cheek, gently rubbing her thumb over his skin. There was no judgment in her eyes. “Please?”

“Yeah, okay.” He kissed her cheek and took her hands. “Let’s go.”

They made their way back through the gardens and into the ballroom. Finding her parents, Peony kissed them goodnight and told them she and Apollo were going to watch a movie. If she hadn’t been a little tipsy, she may have noticed the sly look on her father’s face. 

When they made it to her bedroom, Peony didn’t even bother changing out of her fancy dress or shoes. She flopped down onto her belly, burying her face in the fluffy pillows. She made sure there was enough room for Apollo on the other side of the bed. 

He chuckled, walking around to her side of bed. Leaning over he slipped her heels off and set them by her nightstand. 

“Thank you,” she mumbled into the pillow.

“You’re welcome.” He leaned over to kiss the back of her head before walking around to lay on the empty side after kicking off his own shoes. Apollo moved close, wrapping an arm around her back and pressing his face against her shoulder. 

Peony shifted slightly so she was on her side and face to face with Apollo. A small smile tugged at her lips. She moved one hand up to cup his cheek again. “I love you,” she whispered. 

Apollo beamed, nuzzling his nose against hers. “I love you too. So much.”

“I know.”

Ever since that night, they’d been getting more daring in their public displays of affection. Apollo waited for her when she got out of meetings. She’d immediately take his arm and they’d head to the gardens or get food. They snuck kisses here and there, anywhere in the palace now, as long as no one was around. But they didn’t always notice a maid walking down the halls, or the gardner peering at them from behind the chrysanthemums. 

Tonight was family dinner. Peony’s parents sat at the heads of the table, while Yuki and Aunt Iko sat on one side, and Peony and Apollo sat on the other. Iko didn’t eat at all since she was an android, but that never stopped her from joining them. 

Peony listened to everyone talk about their days, the drama in the Commonwealth, and the coming week’s schedule. While her parents were distracted, she slowly reached under the table to take Apollo’s hand. His expression remained impassive as he listened to the conversation, but his fingers twined with hers. He squeezed her hand three times, their silent “I love you.”

Peony smiled, but didn’t glance at him.

Yuki raised an eyebrow at her from across the table. “You alright there, sis?”

“Hmm?” 

“You’re making a weird face.”

“Am not.”

“You’re smiling like a psychopath.”

Her smile turned into a glare, and she pulled her hand out of Apollo’s. “I am not.”

“Maybe not anymore, but you were.” Yuki rolled their eyes. “Are you sick or something? You don’t usually smile when mom and dad are bickering.”

Kai snorted. “We’re not bickering.”

“Oh, sorry,” Yuki corrected themself. “I meant flirting.”

Their parents simply smiled and shared a look with each other. It was a look full of so much love and adoration that it always made Peony feel like she wasn’t meant to be in the same room when they shared it. 

“You can go now, if we’re making you uncomfortable,” Cinder said.

“Don’t have to tell me twice!” Yuki said as they pushed out their chair and left the family dining room.

This time Peony rolled her eyes. “They’re so dramatic, but I think leaving before you two start making out is a good idea.” She pushed her chair out, stood, then held her hand out to Apollo. “You should get out of here too. It’s disgusting.”

“Oh, it’s not that bad,” Iko said. “I’ve walked in on them doing far worse.”

“Iko!” Cinder scolded.

“Gross gross gross,” Peony muttered as Apollo took her hand and let her pull him along. 

“Love you!” Kai called as the door slid shut behind them. 

Peony shuddered and grimaced as they walked down the hallway. Apollo squeezed her hand. “I don’t know why you’re surprised, they’re always like that.”

“Not surprised, so much as grossed out.”

“We could go do something gross.”

Peony laughed. “You know what? I like the sound of that. Come on.” She moved faster down the hall. They entered one of the elevators and headed down to the main level. Pulling him along, she took Apollo to the ballroom.

“What are we doing here?”

“We are stealing my parents’ make out spot.”

He laughed, “What?”

She pulled him underneath the grand staircase and pressed him against the marble wall--just like she’d done a few weeks ago with the peach tree. “Kiss me.”

“You could have just done it instead of requesting I do it, you know.” 

“Fine.” She wrapped her arms around his neck and shoulders and yanked him in for a kiss. It started somewhat sweet, gentle, almost tender, but turned more passionate as the seconds went on. Her fingers tangled into his hair, Apollo letting out a small gasp. His hands wandered down her hips, pulling her closer against his body. He turned them around so she was the one pressed against the wall. 

Peony squeaked and lightly smacked his chest. “Hey, not cool.”

“That was definitely cool,” he mumbled against her lips.

“Shut up, you know what I meant.”

He laughed and started trailing kisses down her jaw and neck. His lips brushed against her collarbone and Peony inhaled sharply. 

“Apollo.”

“Hmm?”

She pulled on his hair, bringing him back up to her lips.

Someone cleared their throat behind them, Peony and Apollo’s heads snapped toward the sound and they pushed each other away. Though Peony didn’t really move since her back was against the wall.

“Well, well, well,” Thorne said, hands on his hips, a wicked grin on his lips, and a mischievous glint in his eyes. “What do we have here?”

Both of their faces flushed bright red. Apollo blinked a few times, as if he didn’t comprehend what was happening, or, more likely, who was in front of them. “Dad?” he asked hesitantly.

Thorne huffed. “Wow. My own son doesn’t recognize me after not seeing me for over a year? I’m hurt.”

Peony looked back and forth between them. She slowly inched herself further away from Apollo, as if thinking that if she was further away from him, it wouldn’t appear like they weren’t just making out. She was an adult. She could kiss whoever she wanted, but still. This was weird. And Thorne was definitely going to tell everyone. 

“No, Dad, that’s not what I…” Apollo huffed in the exact same tone as his father. “What are you doing here? You didn’t tell me you were coming to New Beijing.” 

Peony hoped that the topic of conversation would also keep Thorne from talking about what he just saw. Her hopes were crushed when Thorne, once again, smiled wickedly. 

“I wanted to surprise you. Guess I surprised you more than I thought though. How long has this been going on?” He gestured between them, curious, but not judgemental. That was a good sign at least. “Oh oh oh! Does Cinder know? Please tell me I know before she does. That’s why you’re hiding in here right?”

“Oh my stars,” Peony muttered, hiding her face behind her hands to conceal her blush. 

“Dad,” Apollo warned. 

Thorne gasped. “She doesn’t! Can I be there when you tell her?”

“Dad!” 

“No!” Peony said at the same time. “And you’re going to keep this quiet,” she said in her best regal voice, hoping that Thorne would listen to her command like he occasionally listened to her parents when they used that same tone.

Again that proved too much to hope for. 

“Oh come on,” Thorne complained. “I changed your diapers, Peony, the least you can do is let me be in the room when you tell Cinder you’re dating my son.”

Apollo scowled and stepped between his father and Peony. “Are you trying to guilt trip my girlfriend right now?”

“Girlfriend?” Arti asked as they rounded the stairs, portscreen in their hand. They looked up a second later, glanced between their brother, father, and Peony. “Oh, I see. You finally asked her out then?”

Peony’s brow furrowed as she looked at Apollo. “Finally? Wait, how long have you--” 

“I’ll tell you later,” he promised.

That was good enough for right now. She knew he’d follow through once they had a chance to talk together alone. If that ever happened again. 

Arti looked back down at their portscreen as they started walking away. “Anyway, I’m out. Have fun with this. Let me know when Cinder strangles Dad!”

Thorne paused. “Wait, she’s not going to strangle me!”

“Uh huh.”

“... Right?” Thorne asked his child. When Arti didn’t answer him, he turned toward Apollo and Peony. “Your mom wouldn’t strangle me, right?”

“I think we should find out,” Peony said.

Apollo met her eyes, curious about what she meant. “You mean--”

“If you’re okay with it.”

He took a long breath and was silent for far too long. Peony started to worry. What if he wasn’t ready to tell them? She wouldn’t care. She didn’t mind waiting, but at the same time, the sneaking around was starting to weigh on her. She felt like they’d figured each other out enough by this point to let others know about their relationship. Granted, it helped that they had a head start in knowing each other for their entire lives. The point still stood though. 

Just as she was about to open her mouth and take it back, Apollo smiled. 

“Yeah,” He said. Apollo took her hand and squeezed it three times. “I’m ready.” He looked at his dad and gestured for him to follow them. “We’re going to tell them now if you still want to see Cinder’s reaction.”

“Oh, aces, yes!”

The way back to the family hall was long and entertaining, to say the least. Thorne wouldn’t shut up. No one was in the dining room, so they went to the lounge next. Before the doors even opened, Peony could hear two dozen people talking over each other. 

Sweat beaded on her brow as she looked over at Apollo. Everyone was there. Not just their parents and siblings, but Winter, Jacin, Scarlet, Wolf, and their kids too. They only planned on telling their own families. Were they ready to tell everyone else too?

“Dad,” Apollo said, “You didn’t mention that everyone was here.”

“Oh, didn’t I?” Thorne shrugged. “Sorry, kiddo, sorta slipped my mind when I caught you making out.”

Apollo ran a hand down his face. “Gee, thanks.”

Thorne pushed between them and wrapped his arms around their shoulders. “If you want, I could take all the burden off you kids and tell them. All you gotta do is stand there and look pretty.”

Peony met Apollo’s eyes and shrugged. She didn’t mind that idea. It wasn’t terrible. If anything, it might be entertaining. “Why not?”

“Really?”

“Sure.”

“Awesome! Let’s go kids.”

“Dad, we’re adults,” Apollo grumbled.

But he was ignored as Thorne pushed them through the door with a wide grin on his face. “Cinder!” Thorne called. 

Peony’s mother looked up from where she sat on one of the couches talking to Winter. Her expression was a mix of annoyance and curiosity. “What do you want, Cadet?”

Thorne glared at her for a split second, then looked across the room to Kai. He lifted the arm he had around Apollo and gestured the Emperor over as well. “You. Come here. I got some juicy deets.”

“No one says that anymore, Dad,” Arti muttered where they sat on the floor, still on their portscreen.

Peony mentally sighed. Maybe letting Thorne tell everyone wasn’t such a good idea. She could feel that the room was going to erupt into chaos soon.  Oh well. It was too late now. 

With no room left on the couch, Kai sat on Cinder’s lap and pressed a kiss against her forehead before looking at their crazy friend. “Alright,” Cinder said. “Spit it out then.”

Ever dramatic, Thorne started telling them about his “adventures” wandering around the palace looking for his son. His story was so captivating that the rest of the Rampion Crew and children--who were all adults by now--quieted down to listen. He’d yet to let go of Peony and Apollo, and it was likely that many could already tell the direction the story was going, if the expressions on the children’s faces were anything to go by. The “adults”--with the exception of Cinder, Cress, and Wolf, also looked like they knew what was going to happen.

Although no one had any doubts that most of this story was made up, Thorne finally made it to the important part. “Now,” Thorne continued, “most of us are aware of what an excellent dancer my son is.”

“Dad, can you not?”

“Shush, you said I could tell them.”

“Fine. Fine.”

Thorne carried on. “So I thought, hey, maybe he’s in the ballroom. I make my way there, down the beautiful grand staircase, but pause when I hear a sound. It wasn’t just any sound though. It was a moan, or maybe a gasp? Either way it was suspicious. Especially since I knew it couldn’t be our dear Emperor and Empress since they were already in this very room and not in their not-so-secret-secret-make-out-spot under the ballroom stairs. I decided to check anyway. There are hundreds of other people in the palace. Maybe some of them were using it as a make out spot!

“So I go down the rest of the stairs and round the corner. I’ll admit, it took me a second to recognize them, but I’ve known these two since the days they were born. I stood there for another second, shocked at what I was seeing! My son? And the Crown Princess of the Commonwealth? Making out under the stairs? It didn’t seem likely. Or even possible.”

Peony watched as her mother narrowed her eyes, she didn’t look like she believed what Thorne was saying. Peony couldn’t blame her. She didn’t even believe her feelings at first. 

“I put my hands on my hips and cleared my throat to get their attention. The second they turned around, their faces went bright red, and I knew I caught them red handed. Or well, each other, handed?” Thorne’s brow furrowed and he looked to his wife. “Honey, is that what you’d call it?”

“No,” Cress said, not missing a beat. “That’s not a phrase or term.”

“Whatever, my point still stands. These two are dating!”

The room was silent for another long couple moments… and then everyone started talking at once. All of the kids were laughing, smiling, or shouting “about time,” or “”finally,” or “took you long enough!” 

It was as chaotic as Peony expected. 

Iko jumped  up and down behind the couch, clapping her hands. “Ooooooh yes! That’s wonderful! Oh, you two will have such cute babies!”

“Whoa hold on a second!” Apollo said. “We are not having babies!” 

“Not any time soon,” Peony added. 

He flushed.

“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Cinder said, pushing Kai off her lap. He landed on the floor with an “oof!” Cinder didn’t pay him any mind as she stood and walked over to Peony, Apollo, and Thorne. She pointed a metal finger at Thorne and growled, “You!” 

Thorne made a show of looking around to make sure she was talking to him and not someone else. “Me?” he asked. 

“Yes! You!”

“What about me?”

“You encouraged this!”

“I most certainly did not! I mean, not that I wouldn’t. It’s really cute, don’t you think? And if they get married someday, we’ll officially be related!” 

Cinder looked like she was about to commit murder.

Kai, getting up off the floor, stood behind his wife and wrapped his arms around her waist. “Darling, this has been coming for a while now. I mean they’ve been sneaking around for, what, the last two months?”

Peony’s jaw dropped. She had no idea her father knew. Yeah, he could read people very well, but she thought if he found out, he would’ve mentioned it to her--not go on pretending nothing was happening. Boy was she wrong.

She stuttered. “What, how did--when did you--”

“You went to a meeting with a hickie. Also I saw you making out in the garden a couple weeks ago.”

“You were inside then!” 

“You didn’t tell me?” Cinder asked Kai, aghast.

“I’m so confused,” Wolf muttered to no one in particular.

Peony met Apollo’s eyes as bickering and gossiping went on around them. Everyone was so engrossed in their own conversations that surely no one would notice if they left the room. She gave him a small smile and offered him a hand. 

Apollo took her hand and they left the room together. 

The sounds of their families talking echoed down the halls, but Peony didn't pay them any mind. She was glad they didn't have to keep their relationship a secret anymore. There'd be no more sneaking around, no more worrying that her family would walk in on them kissing. Not that she really worried much about that to begin with. She was 22, for stars' sake. She was allowed to kiss her boyfriend.

"So," Apollo said, interrupting her thoughts. "What now?"

"We go on a real date, and hope that our parents don't stalk us. Namely your dad."

He laughed, hand involuntarily tightening around hers. "That sounds perfect."

#tlc #tlc fic #tlc fanfiction #tlc fanfic #lunar chronicles #the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles fanfic #mine #my post #my fic #tlc second generation #second generation #tlc second gen #second generation tlc

[harrygoeswest]

Infatuation On A Mutual Level

You and Harry are housemates and are both secretly quite fond of one another.

A/N: Woooo she’s here!!! I loved writing this one shot a lot and I really hope it shows. I haven’t had motivation to write for ages and this year I’ve really come back to it and I’m so happy. I hope you all love it as much as I do. She’s special to me. Special mention to the only person who ever wants to read for me @all-things-fic​ <3 Please come tell me what you think afterwards!! Katie x

Trigger Warnings: sexual content, brief mentions of loss, nightmares

Word Count: 18,777

~.~.~.~.~

Now

Every morning was the same.

The creak from the only bed on the first floor began the day. Then the gush of the tap in the shared bathroom. The kettle in the kitchen on the ground floor. The door closing when George left for the day. Then again 15 minutes later when Rhys did. Abbie starting the shower immediately afterwards now her boyfriend was gone. And then the only thing that ever made your skin prickle:

Harry’s door opening.

Every morning you would roll over at the sound, away from it. God forbid the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ ever pinned you with that warm, green-eyed stare first thing in the morning through the open gap of your own bedroom door. No, you might never be able to survive such a thing.

Living in a shared house was hard. Not least because you felt responsible for the place itself; owned by your single dad who would do anything to bring in what income he could, including taking more rent off his eldest child than he’d like. An argument arose regularly over your living situation but it was hard enough filling the fourth bedroom with a tenant. Living in the third was the least you felt you could do. The building was in dire need of some TLC but it wasn’t exactly an affordable fete. Sometimes the ceiling leaked on the second floor when it rained thanks to some shabby scaffolding work a few years back; the main reason why it was so hard to let the fourth bedroom. Part of you didn’t want to.

It was also hard in a house share because people were messy and you had a horrendous phobia of general mess. If you could quit your job and play full-time housekeeper you absolutely would. But your dad wouldn’t allow that. “Not in my lifetime,” He’d say with the gentlest scowl.

But the hardest part, by far, was being in such close proximity to the man who rented the bedroom across the hall. You weren’t sure why you were so terrified of him. Scarred by your original encounter with him, perhaps, but he wasn’t actually scary. He was, rather annoyingly, the nicest person in the house. Constantly aloof, yes, but still the poster boy for gentlemen everywhere.

Maybe if you spoke to him you’d learn he’s just a normal bloke, your inner voice trilled.

“Shut the fuck up.” You hissed into your pillow.

You waited for the inevitable sputter of the shower starting up again, and then rolled out of bed, threw on the clothes you’d hung up on the wardrobe door the night before - clean white shirt and grey trousers, ironed within an inch of their life - and scurried downstairs to arrange your usual to-go breakfast. Coffee in a reusable cup and a cereal bar. Hair and makeup could be fixed at work. You were always thirty minutes early anyway.

~

Harry wasn’t sure how you managed it. How every day you managed to evade him to avoid a puffy-eyed “good morning” or a potentially awkward conversation over breakfast.

As he stood in the hallway between your bedrooms towelling his hair dry in nothing but a pair of boxers and a damp t-shirt, he stared into your bedroom and marvelled yet again at how you seemed to have managed to keep it tidied to a borderline compulsive degree.

A large king bed sat against the left wall with ironed white linens and a plush sunflower yellow throw draped across the foot. One lone bedside table tucked against the right side with a tasselled muted green 60s velvet lamp and a book resting atop. A picture hung above the headboard - some vibrant canvas of abstract art. Every morning he wondered if you’d painted it yourself. Against the opposite wall stood a tall regal-looking cherrywood wardrobe next to a matching dresser with a sleek TV on top. It was the most modern thing about the room. In the window overlooking the garden a dream catcher hung in the dead centre. It was the only nicknack you seemed to have, and part of him hated that it seemed like something negative. Something to catch nightmares, to ward off evil.

Did you have bad dreams? And if so, why?

As always, the window had been opened two inches to let in fresh air. You never closed your door, not even at night. You never had clothes left out. Clutter didn’t exist in your vocabulary. Dust wasn’t permitted in your room. Or the bathroom, or kitchen, or living room, he’d deduced. You took Wednesdays off in the week and cleaned when no one else was home to bother you. He doubted the others had picked up on these things about you, but he’d noticed.

Harry had noticed a lot about you.

Especially that in the mornings, you waited until he took his bathroom time to get ready for work and leave without having to run into him. Some chaotic part of him wanted to change his routine so you’d have to. He wanted to know what you looked like straight out of bed with puffy eyes and linen marks on your cheeks and hair in disarray. The other part of him, the gentleman, told him not to. Who knew what might happen if he threw your routine off kilter.

Distress, probably?

No. He wouldn’t be having that.

Shaking his head, he wandered into his own room and shut the door behind him. One day the puzzle of you would finally form a complete picture. Today, he settled for the tethered, jumbled segments he’d managed to collect this far.

~

You stared at your phone, face a picture of bewilderment. Deciphering text messages from the housemates was starting to get increasingly difficult, no thanks to the fact that you were shit at it and everyone else seemed to excel.

Blackpool Tower

🌚 👰🏼❌🧽🍽️🔄

🌝 🙈🖕🏼

👰🏼 😕

Translation: Abbie George didn’t wash his dishes again.

Rhys Oh for fuck’s sake.

George Whoops.

You were on a roll with the emojis. It had started as a joke because George had said he hated people who only used emojis to text each other rather than actual words, so for a week the four of you had sent every text using only emojis. Then it had turned into a bet: how long could all of you go without using words, and who would be the first one to crack. You all knew that, without a doubt, Rhys would crack first, even though he was the one who’d proposed the bet in the first place. It had been two weeks and no one had cracked yet.

🍉 🤔👰🏼🥄🥄🍱🔄

👰🏼 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣😠

🌝 😒🙄

🌚 🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️🏃🏻‍♀️

👑 ❌❌❌❌❌❌❌

Translation:

Harry Maybe George should cook dinner again…

George HAHAHAHAHAHAHA no.

Rhys Yeah right.

Abbie No thank you.

You Absolutely fucking not.

Why did all of you have such ridiculous headers?

Abbie and Rhys were the twin moons because that was the look they always gave each other when they thought something was cute, funny, interesting, or otherwise. They’d moved into the house as a couple and had remained in said couple for 3 years. Sharing a room was their way of saving money to buy a house. It made sense.

George was a blonde bride because he was the most outwardly gay man any of you had ever known and often acted like an utter madam. Madam was actually George’s nickname to his friends now thanks to the house’s light ribbing. He had also chosen his own emoji.

Harry was the watermelon because we were never without it thanks to a frankly concerning obsession. If there wasn’t a watermelon in the fridge, or slices, or packaged chunks, something was very wrong.

And you were the crown because you’d refused to pick an emoji and the house had affectionately bestowed the title of Tower Queen to you. You’d pretended to hate it, but they all knew you viewed it as the highest compliment.

Oh, and the group chat was called Blackpool Tower because you lived together in a tall, two-rooms-to-a-floor townhouse at the top of town. The Eiffel Tower had been suggested but George immediately pointed out that we were not a classy enough bunch to live in such a fine establishment. I’d told him to speak for himself.

The talk of food made you hungry, and it hit you like a landslide that you hadn’t had any dinner. You rolled off your bed and sent a text to Blackpool Tower, then shoved your phone away.

~

Multiple things happened at once. The shower turned on in the bathroom; your bedroom door opened with a quiet creak (which would not happen again since you went through WD40 like a bee in pollen); Harry’s phone vibrated with another text.

Blackpool Tower

👑 👩‍🍳🍝 … 🌚🍝🌝🍝🍉🍝➡️🧊 … ❌🍝👰🏼

Harry snickered.

Translation: You Making dinner. Leftovers in the fridge. None for George.

It wasn’t unusual you’d make enough food for everyone. Harry had learned that you’d picked that trait up from your dad. Sometimes no one would stop you, especially since there was never anything wrong with a meal you’d cooked. In fact, if there were a restaurant with food cooked by you, Harry would dine there every night. But he also knew that letting you cook for all the other housemates all the time wasn’t fair.

🌚 🍉➡️🍉❌🍉➡️🍉❌👑

👰🏼 🚫🚫🚫🚫

“For fuck’s sake.” He muttered.

Rhys must have been in the shower. If George or Abbie were home they’d have rugby tackled you to the floor given the chance.

Harry abandoned his phone and lurched out of his room, down the stairs to the kitchen. He nearly stacked it twice but he made it, with panting breaths to accompany him.

You turned your gaze on him with a startled look, giving him a once over. “What are you doing…?”

“Don’t you dare cook for everyone else.”

You blinked twice and then rolled your eyes. “It’s fine - I’ve got plenty.”

“It’s not fair.”

“If I don’t cook it today it’ll go off. So might as well.”

Harry looked at the produce you’d piled on the counter and back at you, then back again. “Bullshit.”

“Excuse me?”

“You bought enough for everyone.” He straightened and folded his arms across his chest.

You spluttered and scoffed for far too long. “No.”

“Yes.”

“You can’t stop me.” You scowled at him.

It was the most emotions he’d ever seen on you. If he’d known all this time that all he needed to do to get a conversation out of you was wind you up a bit, he’d have done it much sooner.

“Yes I can.”

You put a hand on your hip. Christ. “How?”

He stared at you, statuesque and cursing himself for challenging a bet he couldn’t win. You were right. How would he stop you? He wasn’t going to drag you away from the kitchen and up the stairs without your permission. Hell, he didn’t want to do anything without your permission, threats begotten. He hadn’t thought this through.

You let out a breath, a mocking one, and turned away from him and picked up a knife to start chopping. “Didn’t think so.”

“You can’t do this forever.”

Chop.

“Do what?” You challenged, refusing to look at him again.

Chop chop.

“Look after every person that comes in here because you feel like you owe people something. The world will take advantage of you. Is that what you want?”

Your shoulders visibly tensed over the words that tumbled out of his mouth. They weren’t even spoken with malice. They were soft and cautious.

CHOP.

“This feels like a very deep conversation to be having on a Tuesday evening.”

He growled, frustrated. “Stop babying everyone.”

Chopchopchop.

“If they didn’t want me to baby them they simply wouldn’t let me. And maybe I like babying people. Sometimes it’s nice to have a responsibility.”

“That’s just it, though. They’re not your responsibility.”

You smacked the knife down on the chopping board and turned to face him, an unfamiliar anger in your eyes that muddled with something else murky and grey. Hurt. “Will you just let me cook my fucking dinner in peace?”

Harry stood, tense, staring at you with his fists clenching and unclenching. Finally, he said, “Fine. But you’ve got to let me help you.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, Harry.” Your head lolled back.

“Two different people, but I appreciate why you might get confused.”

You stared at him for an indecipherable length of time. Or gawked might have been a better descriptor. And then you snatched the tea towel off the side and smacked it in a whip-like movement against his arm. “Git.”

~

Two weeks later and you and Harry had begun a sort of ritual; you would cook with each other every other night. The distinct difference was that when you bought food, you bought enough for everyone. When Harry did it he only bought enough for the two of you.

You hadn’t quite figured out yet if being in this new… friendship with Harry was better or worse. Cooking together four nights a week versus blissful ignorance towards him and his attractiveness? The now near-constant proximity to him was making your head spin for stupid reasons. Namely said attractiveness.

His biceps for one. No one should be allowed arms that had the ability to make one’s mouth water. Pair his strong muscles with the litter of tattoos that were drawn down his right arm and you’d found yourself sweating even on the coldest day. A man’s body should not have such a strong effect on a person, yet here you were - a swoon personified.

Then there was his face, which was worse. Eyes mouth jaw. Those three things individually on a man were the first thing that always drew you in, but Harry had a triple threat. Seaglass green, blush pink and the perfect 100 degree angle. Not too square. And to top it all off, a wispy mop of chestnut waves atop his big head.

The perfect man?

“Aye,” Harry took the knife off you before you started chopping an onion, “thought we established that needed sharpening. A blunt knife is more dangerous than a sharp one.”

A man who cared about your wellbeing?

His bedside manner could use some work.

“Fuck off.” You whispered to your inner voice.

“What?”

“Nothing.” You shook your head, cheeks burning. Great, he probably thought you were crazy.

You silently passed Harry the stone out of the drawer. He could sharpen it if he was going to make such a big deal out of it.

“Thank you.” He mumbled, and started swiping the edge of the knife along the full length of the stone.

Chalky noises. Sharp noises. Furrowed brow. Biceps flexing. Obscenely attractive. Abort abort abort.

You busied yourself by turning on the hob and drizzling oil into a pan. Basically looking anywhere but at Harry and his arms. Sexy arms.

Sex on legs.

Your legs were wobbling. A flame of burdened heat licked its way between your thighs and you had to lean against the counter to stop from buckling. It had been a long time since a man had touched you.

Yeah. This was worse. Definitely worse. Hyper-awareness of everything going on around you wasn’t unusual, but being hyper-aware of everything Harry did was like some unfound form of torture. There was being attracted to someone and then there was whatever this situation was.

Ridiculous?

It was ridiculous, but at least you could suffer knowing that your inner voice had been wrong. Harry was not a normal bloke. He was some kind of enigma.

~

For the past couple of nights Harry had kept his door open. He’d learned that you did indeed have nightmares regularly so the dreamcatcher you kept in your bedroom window was doing little for your unconscious mind. He’d debated buying a bigger one for you but wasn’t entirely sure how appropriate that would be.

You weren’t loud. In fact, if he hadn’t kept his door open he never would’ve known, because the ajar-ness of his door had come prompted for completely different reasons - that unusual urge to see you first thing in the morning. Now two nights in a row he had been woken up by your little yelp, followed with a hissed string of curses while shifting around your bedsheets to get comfortable again. As soon as he knew you were asleep, he wasn’t too far along after you.

He still hadn’t been able to decide if cooking with you nearly every night was a good thing or a bad thing. While he never failed to enjoy himself during your bi-nightly kitchen sessions, he hated separating from you afterwards. It wasn’t enough. The persistent nearness of you for an hour or so only to be followed by a later severance was almost painful. The bedroom door being left open was just another attempt at trying to get closer to you.

He knew it was you in the bathroom because you took longer than everyone else. Not because you were using up all the hot water but because you used it as an excuse to give it a thorough clean. Being able to hear everything going on in the house was both a gift and a curse, but Harry wasn’t attuned to all the tenants. Only you.

Five minutes later the bathroom door opened, and you plodded up the two flights of stairs. He knew the way all the stairs creaked, and you were going at nothing more than a leisurely pace. He caught a glimpse of you as you passed, but it wasn’t enough. It was never enough. The scent of strawberries and jasmine wafted through the gap in his door after you.

Harry’s phone vibrated.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 Friends coming over tomorrow night for drinks 🍻 we’ll behave

👰🏼 You idiot

🌚 RHYS

🌝 NOOOOOOOOOO

🍉 Pay up dipshit

🌝 😭😭😭

A few minutes later Harry got a notification to say he’d received a £10 payment into his bank account.

~

Then

The cold had crept in again. Not from the weather - it was warm at night. This was a different kind of cold. The sweaty kind that kept you up at night. Medication had kept the nightmares away for some time but now you were locked in the house for the foreseeable future you couldn’t bear the idea of being constantly dimmed down by it in front of your housemates.

Last night was the first time you’d had a nightmare in close to a year and it was just as terrifying as it used to be. Some traumas just wouldn’t leave you be. You’d taken a couple of painkillers to numb your headache and they’d graciously knocked you out for another few hours and brought you right on through to 8am. You couldn’t remember the last time you’d slept that late. With everyone at home all the time now, it seemed no one wanted to get out of bed.

You had a job to do today, anyway. The room next to yours had finally been rented, so you’d been tasked with giving it a proper clean before the new tenant arrived this evening.

You did need to eat, but before that you wanted to get the window open in there to coax some fresh air in.

Hauling yourself out of bed, you meticulously tidied your room the same you did with every morning, dressed in clothes appropriate for cleaning, and took the short step across the hall to the other room.

The door was closed which was unusual. You always left the doors to the empty rooms open with a wedge so they wouldn’t get stuffy from disuse. Maybe you’d opened the window yesterday and forgot? Had the wind closed it for you?

Shrugging to yourself, you opened it anyway.

“Oh,” your eyes widened, “fuck, shit, sorry.”

Inside, collapsed face down on the bed dressed with only a sheet was a man, near-naked in only a pair of boxers. You couldn’t see much of his features bar a mop of chocolate curls, a heavily tattooed arm, and a particularly nice arse beneath his pants.

He lifted his head, complete with a gorgeous profile, and peeled open an eye. A very green, beautiful eye. He made a confused, questioning noise.

The room was full of belongings, so this must be the new tenant and not some homeless person who’d managed to sneak in without anyone realising. At least you hoped.

“I’m sorry, I thought you were moving in later today. Sorry.”

“Friday.” He managed. A sleep-coated, groggy and somewhat delirious voice. It was delicious. You wanted to taste it.

“What?”

“Friday was moving day.”

“Yes. Today.”

“No. Yesterday.”

You looked at your phone. “Christ. I’m sorry. Isolation is getting to me. You don’t care. I’m sorry. I’m interrupting your sleep. I’ll go. Sorry.”

You pulled the door closed before you could embarrass yourself any further, and then hid yourself in the bathroom out of sheer embarrassment.

If you never saw that marvellous-looking man again it would be too soon.

~

Now

Harry often thought about that first day.

Morning. Just after dawn. Early summer sun casting you in gold. Tiny shorts. Faded creaseless t-shirt. Sleepy face messy hair.

He hadn’t seen you anything of the sort since and he craved it like an addict did cocaine.

A pandemic had ruined many things for many people, and the most recent ruin back then had been Harry’s longest relationship. That’s what had brought him to a double bedroom in a shared house rather than a flat and his own fucking space. He couldn’t afford the latter.

It had been hot that night, moving into a new home in the darkness. He’d picked up the key from the owner, your dad it had turned out, and transferred his possessions from one place to another in the late night simply to avoid having to discuss his situation with people he didn’t know.

But yes, the heat is what had caused him to strip down to his underwear before passing out. The startled look on your face at the sight of him had absolutely been worth it. The sight of you had been worth it. Such a strong attraction to someone fresh after a breakup should be wildly inappropriate, but there you suddenly were, bare-legged and dangling yourself in front of him like a piece of string to a kitten. Still, the fact remained that Harry liked to think himself a gentleman. He tried to be a gentleman, and after living so close to you for so long, it didn’t take long to learn that you liked to keep to yourself. So he had done the same.

Until now, apparently.

“That housemate of yours here?”

Harry’s ears pricked up at the question like a cat’s would if it heard something interesting. He recognised the voice and hated the speaker. He always had. Today was no exception.

“Which one? I’ve got three of ‘em if we don’t include Abbie.” Rhys’s oblivious laughter filtered up the stairs to the sanctuary of the top floor.

“Well I ain’t talkin’ about the lads, am I?”

Harry shivered. He imagined if you could hear them then you would too.

“She’s here”, “Don’t bother,” came simultaneously from Rhys and Abbie. Abbie sounded almost defensive, and that pleased Harry to no end.

“Why not?”

“Because she isn’t interested.”

“Maybe you should let her decide that for herself.”

Unconsciously, Harry rose from the desk in his room and made his way across the hall to yours. The door was open, obviously.

You were sitting up with a book but you had earplugs in. Whether it was playing music or just to block out the noise from downstairs he wasn’t sure. As soon as you spotted him a small smile curved on your lips, and you pulled an earplug out. It was playing music.

Harry had never met anyone who could listen to music and read at the same time. There were surely plenty, but this put you in the Elite Tier in his head.

“What’s up?”

Footsteps began on the stairs, and Harry threw a cautionary glance over his shoulder before he slipped inside and closed the door behind him, sliding the lock across.

You were leaning forward now, a crease in your brow. “What’s going on?”

“Rhys’s friends are here.”

You blinked. “I know.”

“Yes but his idiot friends are here.”

You tipped your head. “I’m not following.”

“I don’t trust him.”

“Who?”

“I don’t know… Gaz? The one with the teeth.”

“Oh. Right. Why not? He’s harmless, no?”

“Is he? I’m not so sure.”

Your name suddenly trilled from the floor below. “You home?”

You looked at the door as Harry moved to the side, dumbfounded. Harry shook his head at you when you began to move.

Why not? You mouthed.

Harry pretended to drink from an invisible glass and grimaced.

The idiot called your name again and knocked on the door. “Come on, come say hi.”

Harry was really scowling now. You flashed glances between him and the door multiple times.

“She’s probably asleep, mate!” Rhys hissed from outside the door. “She works early some Saturdays.”

That was not true. You’d never worked weekends, not even as a teen. It was Rhys’s smart ruse to get him to back off.

The door handle jostled. Harry suddenly looked more threatening than a mafia boss, and your jaw fell slack from shock.

“Oi,” smack, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

“What? Worth a shot.”

“No it fuckin’ weren’t, go downstairs.”

Some heated muttering commenced, but neither you nor Harry moved or spoke until you were satisfied they wouldn’t hear anything.

“Did he seriously just try and get in here?”

“While you were ‘sleeping’?” Harry air-quoted around the word. “Yes. He did. Hence the distrust.”

“What the fuck…”

He watched you for a moment and the look on your face said it all. You were upset, in a confused sort of way. Your mind was somewhere else, no longer in this room. Eyes glassy and breathing shallow.

Someone had tried to come into your personal space while they had the impression you were sleeping. If that had been the case there was no telling what would’ve happened. If Harry hadn’t come in you probably wouldn’t be any the wiser to Rhys’s friend’s real character, and that was what scared him. You had a tendency to put too much faith in people as just people. If someone was being nice to you that must mean that they are nice.

“What are you reading?” He asked into the silence, not only to break the quiet but to pull you out of the trance you’d been in.

“Oh, er,” you looked down at the book in your lap and turned it upwards, flashing the cover to him, “some daft romance.”

You put it aside after slotting the bookmark inside to keep your place. He smirked to himself. God forbid you dogear a page.

“Happy ending?”

You nodded, playing with your loose earbud. “Yeah. Has to be.”

“They’re my favourite.”

You gawked at him then. “Really?”

“Yeah.” He shrugged. “Is that so shocking?”

You laughed musically. “I don’t know… I kind of assumed a guaranteed happy ending would irritate you or something.”

“Not at all. Sad endings are rubbish.”

“Aren’t they?” You patted the bed by your lap, suddenly animated. “I hate them.”

“Me too.”

“What are they for? No one wins, everyone is miserable, and someone has almost always died in the middle.”

He folded his arms, brows furrowed in a mock defence. “Now who hurt you? Tell me. Who do I need to beat up?”

“John Green.”

Harry scoffed. “He’s the worst.”

“Paper Towns? What the fuck was that all about?”

“Load of shit.”

“Exactly!”

He grinned, relaxing his posture. A commotion began downstairs, and he turned over his shoulder towards the door. Two phones dinged inside the room.

Blackpool Tower

🌝 🍻🍻➡️🌃➕👰🏼

You were being left alone. Thank God.

Harry met your gaze with a passive smile that didn’t touch his eyes. “I’ll let you get back to your reading.”

“Wait…”

He raised a single brow at you. “Yes?”

“Why don’t we watch a movie? If they’re pissing off out…”

He was both surprised and elated by your suggestion. All he’d be doing otherwise was looking for flats to move into alone and listening to some murder podcast before passing out. Friday nights were raucous in one’s late twenties.

“Two movies.” He bargained. “One we can bitch about first, and then one we like to make ourselves feel better.”

Your returning smile was prizewinning. Priceless. “And… takeaway? I really don’t want to cook.”

He clicked and pointed a finger at you. “You’ve got yourself a deal, madam.”

~

This was a new low for you. Or perhaps it was a high - you hadn’t decided yet. Using the newfound common ground over a love of happy endings off the back of the fear of a mad man trying to let himself into your room to coax Harry into a movie night with you. In your room, no less. The house was empty yet you chose to suffer the shitty WiFi signal in your tower room because your bed was more comfortable than the communal sofa in the living room on the ground floor. The cold ground floor.

Now, after a shared pizza that was delivered in record speed, you and Harry lay parallel to one another as you batted bitchy comments between one another about the infuriatingly devastating plot of Atonement.

“I wanna smash her face into a wall.”

You nearly choked on your wine, and wiped a pre-existing tear off your cheek. “Harry,”

“What?” He whined. “Every time I get to the end and she tells the real story I see red. Why get people’s hopes up like that?”

His eyes were red around the rims.

You sat forward as the credits began to roll and looked at him with a timid smile. “Opinionated, aren’t you?”

He was draped across the left side of your bed closest to the door, legs crossed at the ankle and hands tucked behind his head against the headboard. He was close to slouched, but he looked so impossibly at ease you wanted to just nestle right into him.

You could do it. Nothing is stopping you.

You repressed a growl.

“Coming from you?” He retorted, amused.

Childishly, you stuck your tongue out at him. “What’s next?”

He pursed his lips and gave a thoughtful look towards the ceiling. “Notting Hill?”

You gasped. “Fuck yes. Do you fancy dessert?”

“Always. What have you got?”

“I picked up a chocolate trifle on the way home from work.”

“That sounds dirty as fuck.”

“It is dirty as fuck.” You agreed and stood from your bed. “I picked it up on the way home with the intention of eating it all by myself, but… I’m willing to share.”

“How kind.” Harry chuckled. You felt his gaze on you leaving the room.

Two minutes later you returned with an unwrapped trifle and two spoons. Harry had already found Notting Hill on one of the many subscription sites you paid for and had it paused right at the start. He sat up straighter as you settled back down, pressed play, and then the two of you sunk into cake and gooey chocolate layered beneath sweet cream.

“Is Hugh Grant too posh?” Harry asked between mouthfuls.

“Yes, but it suits him?” Your question pondered. “Like, I couldn’t imagine him with a Scouse or Georgie accent.”

Harry’s returning laughter was delighted, magical. “This would be a very different film if he did.”

You gave a gutterall, mischievous laugh. “I would like to see it.”

Once you’d spoiled yourselves with trifle you settled back down, two parallel figures unmoving in the dim room, except to drink wine.

Harry was an ominous presence beside you. Warmth radiated off him in languid rolls, beckoning to you like an evil sea siren. Your hands fisted on your stomach, muscles tense. It really was taking everything in you not to lean into him and inhale his scent. Let it lull you to sleep like a safety blanket.

Occasionally you peeked glances at him. If he’d noticed you he never said anything, and it made you brave. After so long the film became background noise and Harry was the real star. A black t-shirt across a flat, muscular chest, steady breaths causing a rise and fall. Black jogging bottoms that rose higher up his legs with each slight movement, showing more scrumptious leg hair per inch. Big, boney, veiny feet with heinously long toes. Hair taken off his face with a tiny claw grip, a little greasy around the ears.

The overwhelming need to shove your face into his armpit finally gave motive to look away. Hugh Grant and Julia Roberts meant nothing anymore. There was a sexy man sprawled across your bed who ate your trifle and wanted to watch stupid rom-coms with you.

You fell asleep before the end.

~

Harry was sure he was dreaming. It wasn’t possible, the situation he found himself in. It was what he wanted, what he had really wanted for a while now, but the actual possibility of it coming to fruition had been next to none. Zero. Impossible.

He’d woken up in your room. That was the first tell that he was still dreaming. Then he found a warm body curled around him, and him around them in return. Your warm body. Leg draped over his thigh, arm slung across his torso, head tucked under his chin, his arms around your shoulders and inhaling your strawberry shampoo.

You were both still on top of the covers, neither able to finish the movie without passing out. He’d even noticed you had nodded off first but he didn’t want to leave you without making sure you’d lock the door behind you again in case Rhys and his idiot friends returned.

Huh. Maybe it wasn’t a dream. That was too accurate and not nearly lucid enough for an unconscious mind.

He didn’t want to move in case he stirred you, but he was desperate to see your face. Your beautiful, sleeping face. He refused to believe you’d cuddled up to him while conscious. Because it had been that way around - you were parked up on his side of the bed. His lips pricked upwards at the corners with that knowledge.

It was raining heavily outside. It fell against the window in loud smatters, the room cast in a dull grey tone. It made him want to squeeze you tighter, to keep you from any harm. He still refrained.

Eventually you woke. He could tell from the way your body tensed and your breath caught in your throat.

“Don’t freak out.” He mumbled, voice thick from lack of use.

You took in a deep, obvious breath. “No? Why not?”

“You don’t need to.”

“I think I do.”

“Explain, please.”

You hesitated, wetting your lips, and took in another deep breath. “I’ve embarrassed myself.”

“How?”

“I’ve put myself into your personal space without your permission.”

“You were unconscious.” He argued.

“Doesn’t make it any better. You should’ve run for the hills the second my foot touched your lovely hairy leg.”

Harry chuckled. He tightened his arm around you and brushed his nose through your messy hair. “Maybe I don’t mind you in my personal space. Maybe… I like it.”

“Do you?”

“Perhaps.”

“Perhaps?”

He laughed again. “You’ve nothing to worry about.”

You sat up and faced him.

Gah. There you were. Puffy eyes, cracked lips, scruffy hair. His stomach did a backflip at the sight of you - a dream he had nightly. In equal measure, he missed having the warmth and weight of your body against him.

“Don’t think about it too much.” He gave you a gentle smile. “Nothing needs to be complicated.”

You remained silent, either awestruck or dumbfounded. He wasn’t sure.

He stood, reluctantly, and pinched your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

That sorted you out. Your face rearranged itself into a scowl, gaze following him as he left the room. He hadn’t wanted to leave, but such a conversation felt too poignant for 8 o’clock in the morning. You needed space to let your thoughts take over.

~

Cooking dinner and movie nights. That had become yours and Harry’s thing. After he’d dropped what you considered a bombshell that he didn’t mind you in his personal space you’d had the longest shower of your life - accidentally using all the hot water - and then spent the morning face down on your bed trying not to scream into your pillow.

Since then you’d been obsessively cleaning, more so than usual by way of distraction from the man living across the hall. The house was spotless. You’d even cleaned the windows at one point, outside, with help from your dad and looked at a way to fix the leaking problem in the empty bedroom.

It still didn’t stop your mind from constantly drifting back to the other morning. Waking up curled around Harry like that had been both terrifying and utterly perfect. For a man with such a hard physique he’d been incredibly comfortable. Too comfortable. Then he’d said a number of things that threw your somewhat orderly brain into complete disarray and chaos.

“You’re cute when you’re in shock.”

Harry hadn’t seemed to take his own words lightly, either. He’d been more comfortable in closer proximity with you since that morning, in the little things like light touches to your arms and back while you cooked together, or a kiss on the top of your head before you disappeared into your room for the night. Some nights you would share a bed after a movie because it was just easier - you were already settled, and you always woke up cuddled against him like a fucking creep.

“This,” Harry said as he pulled the oven door open, a waft of heat filling the cold room, “is gonna be fuckin’ banging.”

“Mhm.” You quipped, shoving a tortilla chip into some salsa, and then into your gob.

It was a Saturday night. By a freak stroke of luck, all the other housemates had gone away for the weekend - George to his parents’ and Rhys and Abbie on a weekend break to Amsterdam. So, a dinner and movie night had been a given, but you’d stuck a portable heater in the communal living room downstairs, found as many blankets as you could and piled them onto the sofa, then queued up enough movies to last all night.

Harry’s carefully crafted pizza sat atop the stove, cooked to perfection with your favourite ingredients on one half and his on the other. Your mouth watered.

You carried everything into the lounge, set it all up on the coffee table, and pressed play on your first movie of the night.

It was civil while you ate, and you were admittedly starving. To Harry’s credit the pizza was delicious and you wished it was bigger because you could’ve eaten another. You filled the hole in your stomach with tortillas and salsa instead. He graciously took all the dirty plates back into the kitchen when you were done, and returned with two bowls of strawberries, raspberries, and of course, watermelon. It was a very healthy dessert but the watermelon looked seriously out of place.

“I can’t believe you’re letting me eat your watermelon.” You joked. “Feels like a sacred honour.”

He snorted but remained silent.

Eventually, after all the food and a couple of glasses of wine, you were horizontal, your feet in Harry’s lap. He had his hands locked around your ankle after you accidentally kicked him in the thigh.

“If you were in a rom-com, who would you want to play your love interest?”

Harry pursed his lips. “Hugh Grant.”

You giggled, turning your face into the sofa cushion. “90s or current Hugh Grant?”

“90s. Current Hugh Grant is into much more sophisticated roles that I don’t care for. Even if they are generally great films.”

“I see…” you mused.

He squeezed your ankle, a smile flirting on his lips. “No, I don’t know. Who’s queen of romantic comedies? Reese Witherspoon? J-Lo?”

“Oh my God, I love J-Lo.” Your voice was a dreamy, breathy sound.

“A fine woman indeed.”

“I love it when you talk like it’s the 1800s.”

He laughed so loudly it was almost a bark. “Noted. Who would you want to play opposite?”

“Sam Claflin.”

“The king of rom-coms.”

“Exactly. Very easy on the eye.”

Harry was smirking again. His hands were moving now, smoothing up and down your leg in easy strokes.

Thank fuck you shaved, you little scruffy bear.

You mentally flicked your inner tormentor behind her ear.

The film played on and held your attention for some time. You were possibly the most relaxed you’d been for a very long time. Not one muscle in your body felt tight.

Harry’s lackadaisical caressing continued, which you were still half-conscious of. It was nice to be touched that way - you don’t think you ever had been. You didn’t panic until you realised he’d been venturing just a touch further up your leg with every stroke; until his fingers tickled your thigh.

You gasped, grabbing his wrist, wrenched yourself upright.

Heat flooded your centre, slick and warm. It was so instantaneous it took you by surprise, and your cheeks burned, the tips of your ears warm.

His eyes were on you, wider than usual. “Sorry,” he tried to speak but it only came out in a whisper.

What is wrong with you, woman? You wanted this.

The inner tormentor was right. You had wanted it, and for quite some time. But the advance of it had taken you so completely off-guard that your body had reacted before your brain did.

“Shouldn’t have done that.” Harry muttered, a furrow between his brow. He was angry with himself.

Finally you managed to shake your head. You managed to manoeuvre yourself by taking one leg - the leg he still had his hand on because you were keeping it there - off his lap and tucked it under itself. You pressed his palm flat against your skin, smoothing over each of his long fingers in turn, and met his intense gaze.

You were much closer now, faces and bodies mere inches from each other. You could feel his breath against your face, and you knew he could feel yours too from the way his eyelids fluttered with each exhale. Shiny eyelids, you noted.

He slowly closed the space to brush his nose upwards against yours, and your next exhale was much shakier.

“What are we doing?” You asked.

“Whatever you want.”

You wanted many, many things. And 99% of them involved him.

You licked your lips, and his gaze dropped to them at the action. Your stomach squirmed and your inner voice squealed with nerves.

Harry placed his other hand firmly on your hip and tugged, and you spilled over his lap, straddling him with your hands using his shoulders for balance. Another gasp fell out of you at the feeling of a certain something between your legs. A certain hard something.

“Is this okay?” He asked, both hands tentative on your thighs.

“Mhm.” You managed.

His hands spread wider, and you grew wetter, breathing heavier

He swallowed thickly. “Can I kiss you?”

All you could do was nod.

You noticed the beginning of a smile before his mouth was on yours. That mouth you’d thought of many times, at all hours, on all days of the week. And it was finally on yours, and perfect too. Soft, big, spongy. It felt like heaven against your own.

He took his time, leisurely testing the waters with you. What you would allow and what you wouldn’t. What you liked and what you didn’t.

You liked all of it.

His tongue was reverent as it eased your lips open, but thorough once you’d granted him access to you. He tasted like strawberry and watermelon, a delicious combination. A lethal combination.

His hands still smoothed over your thighs, reaching for your arse but never quite making it there. He didn’t want a repeat of the previous reaction from you.

You held onto him tightly, hands squeezing over his shoulders in an accidental but welcomed massage. You wanted to touch him everywhere but weren’t sure if he was okay with it.

“I never thought I’d be able to do this with you.” Harry’s voice was gruff, strained. He spoke against your lips.

“Neither did I.” You said breathily.

“Thought about it a lot.”

“Me too.”

He groaned into your mouth, hands rising to your hips and waist, tugging on your loose t-shirt.

You continued kissing, mouths bruising with lust, skirting around the removal of clothes. His arousal only got harder between your legs and it made you wriggle. Your wriggling caused friction, and the friction caused whimpers.

“I won’t last if you make noises like that.”

This information gave you immense satisfaction. He practically ate the smile off your face, and you wriggled again over the top of him. More whimpers, more movement. Back and forth, back and forth until you were utterly soaked inside your pyjama shorts.

“Jesus Christ,” he hissed.

“Harry,” you moaned, fisting his t-shirt at the chest.

“Keep going.” He practically begged.

You gave a frustrated noise and did as he said, rolling your hips over the length of his clothed shaft. Over and over and over again. Tits began to bounce. Back began to sweat. Toes began to curl.

Harry stripped you of your top and buried his face in your chest. Kissing, licking, sucking, bruising. A canvas of vivid colour. He dragged his lips across any inch he could, leaning forward, arching you backwards, just to access more. More more more.

Rolling, dragging, rolling and dragging your dampness against his erection. It was your sole focus. You needed it - the release you hadn’t felt for some time. You were always too nervous to masturbate with only two walls and doors separating you and Harry. You needed this more than anything else.

He held onto your back with one strong arm, hand gripping your waist while his other cupped your breast, and he took your nipple into his mouth without any further hesitation. Lick, suck, lick.

You squealed at the sensation, grabbed his face and brought his mouth back to yours. Faster faster faster you moved your hips and devoured his mouth until-

“Harry!”

Heat burst through your body, crashing through every cell, corner and crevice. You were tense as you came, clinging to Harry as tightly as possible. Then, as breath left you, you fell limp against him.

Harry stroked your hair and kissed your temple. His nose drew circles on your cheek.

When you pulled back, thoughts catching up to you, you looked confused.

“What?” He asked, head tipped to one side.

“This doesn’t make sense to me.”

“What doesn’t?”

“This,” you pointed between him and you.

“Why doesn’t it?”

“Because,” you gestured at him and then dropped your hands to your lap, “have you seen you?”

“Many times.”

You gave an exasperated sigh. “I’m serious, Harry. People that look like you aren’t interested in people who look like me.”

“What a horrifically outdated cliche.” He said in a flinchingly bored tone. “For the record, I think you’re bloody gorgeous. Have done since the day I met you.”

“Why?”

“Because I do! Life is too fucking short to let society dictate who is attractive enough to date who.”

You made a face, one where your eyebrows and your mouth stretched. “Yes, but-,”

“-No buts. I fancy the pants off you and that’s all you need to know.”

“Are you sure?”

He laughed. “Well, I certainly wouldn’t have let you do what you just did if I wasn’t sure. Would I?”

“I don’t know… some men are pigs.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Look,” he took your face in his hands, “some men are indeed pigs. But I like you. A lot. And I’ve had fantasies a hell of a lot like what we just did together for a damn embarrassing amount of time. About you. That’s all you need to know. Ever since I met you, I’ve been all about you.”

You pulled your lips between your teeth and stared at his chest, unseeing. Giddiness filled your tummy and white noise flooded your ears.

Harry picked up your hand and pressed a kiss to the palm. He watched you closely as he peppered kisses to your skin. “You’re thinking too hard, but I get it.”

“I think too hard about everything.” You mumbled. “Especially when it comes to you.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“I don’t know but I’ve always thought about you more than I’d like to.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. You’re very distracting.”

“Sounds like a compliment to me.” He said, and pecked your nose. “Shall we finish our movies and go to bed?”

Involuntarily, and as if prompted by the suggestion, you yawned. “Probably a good idea.”

Harry smiled, wrapped his arms around your middle and squeezed you tightly to his solid frame. “Let’s do it.”

~

Harry worked late a lot over the next week or so. He hated it mostly because it meant less time with you. Less conscious time, anyway. For the first few nights he’d come home to find you asleep and couldn’t bear the idea of accidentally waking you up, but after sharing a bed with you for so many nights now, it had been a hard drug to quit.

It was late now, well past midnight and you’d probably fallen asleep hours ago. But seeing you curled up and facing the window, sheets bunched up to your chin and face buried in your pillow, he couldn’t help himself.

He quietly stripped out of his clothes, save for his boxers, shut the door behind him and slid into bed beside you. He surrounded you with his warmth - arms around your middle and his face pressed between your shoulder blades. He tugged you backwards until your bodies were flush together, chest to back, and sponged a wet kiss into your shoulder.

You did rouse a little, giving out a soft, sleep-filled squeak. “Hi.”

He smiled, leaving another kiss closer to your neck. “Hi.”

“Wondered when you’d be back.” You said around a content sigh.

“And me.”

You giggled. You took a hand that clasped around your chest and brought it up to your lips. “Tried to stay awake for you but failed.”

“You don’t have to do that.”

“But I want to.”

He littered more kisses against your skin, because he could just never get enough of you. “Thank you.”

“Pleasure.”

“Now go back to sleep.”

“Yes sir.”

~

“You look different.”

You frowned, meeting your sister’s scrutinous eyes between washing a saucepan clean. You were washing, she was drying, like you always did. You didn’t trust her enough to actually clean the dirty tableware. Sometimes she didn’t properly dry things either, but you’d make the most of what you could.

“What do you mean?”

“I dunno.” She shrugged. “You’ve got a kind of… air about you.”

“Right…”

“Hey,” your dad appeared, nudging your sister’s arm, “maybe she’s got a boyfriend.”

Embarrassed heat filled your body.

“No, that’s not it.” Your sister shook her head. “Anyway, whatever you’re doing, keep doing it.”

“I don’t…” you didn’t know how to finish that.

Perhaps your many nights sharing a bed with Harry had been what she was talking about, but the label of boyfriend/girlfriend definitely hadn’t come up yet. You just liked each other. A lot. Add that to the fact that any night you shared a bed with him you didn’t wake up in cold sweats or choked screaming fits, it wasn’t exactly something you planned to stop doing any time soon.

“Oh my God, don’t overthink it like you do everything else. It’s a compliment. Take it.” She rolled her eyes.

“Aye, don’t be snotty.” Dad swatted your sister’s arm.

“I’m not!”

Your sister was younger than you, and for all eternity most definitely cooler. She was in school and that hadn’t changed into adulthood. It didn’t particularly bother you. Generally you got on very well, she just didn’t have a problem opening her mouth when she had an opinion.

“Anyway, don’t forget family dinner night. Next Friday?” Dad reminded you.

Ah yes. Family dinner night was not here at Dad’s house with just you and your sister. It was at the house with Dad, your sister, and all the housemates. George proclaimed it his favourite time of the month, because Dad, an ex-chef, always cooked. Harry, because of his often awkward shift work, was almost always absent.

“Okay.” You nodded.

After finishing your last dirty dish, you pulled your phone out.

Blackpool Tower

👑 ❌😃

Sometimes a text simply couldn’t be written exclusively in emojis, so you’d come up with a rule whereby if you needed to write one, you’d send a ❌😃 to alert them.

👑 Family dinner night next Friday. Be there or be square 💘

👰🏼 🤯🤩🤯🤩🤯

🌚 🎉🎉🎉

“You’re still doing the emoji thing?” Your sister asked with a narrowed gaze.

“We have another bet running to see who’ll crack first.”

“Right… will everyone come?”

“I don’t know. Maybe.”

“That’s me asking if Harry will be there, by the way.” She said with a smirk, nudging your arm.

If you didn’t know any better you’d be hot under the collar thinking she was onto you. The mention of his name got you flustered anyway, but you did know better. As any sensible woman would, your sister had a little thing for Harry that she’d never shied away from.

“I don’t know.” You repeated, somewhat irritated.

“Well, find out! Do I need to make an effort or not, you know?”

“I mean… he doesn’t usually come. So probably not.”

“Double check. To be safe. Or give me his number.”

“No.”

“Please?”

“No.”

“Bore.” She scoffed, and swished away.

~

Sundays were laundry day. Harry knew this, which is why he’d never do his on the same day. Everyone in the house knew that first thing on a Sunday morning you would head down to the basement with a book and a basket full and sit there until everything had been through the tumble dryer (unless it was delicate in which case you’d air it in your window for the day).

Today, though, Harry travelled from the top of the house to the very bottom and slipped inside the utility room, closing the door behind him before any of the other housemates could hear him.

“What are you doing?” You asked, voice light with laughter.

Harry’s gaze rested on you, full of some kind of infatuation. You were sitting atop the industrial-size tumble dryer in the far corner of the room, back against the wall and knees up, book held against your thighs.

He shrugged. “Wanted to come irritate you a bit.”

“You never irritate me.”

He grinned and put himself in your personal space. He found your bookmark and placed it between the pages, and then took it away, abandoning it. “Are you sure?”

You let him manoeuvre you; pulled you forward a little and spread your knees apart. Your legs fell over the side, resting either side of his hips, and your breathing quickened. He placed one hand on your thigh and the other stroked over your cheek.

“Feel free to interrupt laundry day any time you want.”

“That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

You laughed at his mock genuine tone and brushed your fingertips against his lips. “You know, my sister has a massive thing for you.”

He stood quietly for a fraction of time, gaze assessing. “I would tease you about it but I just can’t. I kind of already guessed.”

“Did you?”

“Mhm. She’s not exactly subtle.”

“No, she’s not. She asked me for your number.”

“Did you give it to her?”

“What do you think?” You rolled your eyes.

He smirked. “You getting possessive of me?”

“Maybe. But she’s too self-absorbed to realise. She thinks I’m doing it because giving out your number willy nilly is morally wrong. Which it is. But yeah, I also just don’t want her to have it.”

His lips tightened, nose flared, eyes light - batting away a smile. “I think I like this side of you.”

You gave an uncharacteristic grunt, but your eyes never left him. “You look like a frog when you make that face.”

His face neutralised and he sucked in a breath. “You’re not the first person to tell me that.”

This visibly delighted you. “Maybe I’ll start calling you Froggy.”

“Too far.” He pinched your waist

You giggled, hands pressed against his chest. Your palms felt warm over his t-shirt and he never wanted you to take them away.

“How long left on your cycle?”

“Er…” your gaze dipped downwards to the screen on the washing machine. “Like, 20 minutes probably.”

“And then it’s going in the tumble dryer?”

“Yes… why?”

“Because,” he pecked your lips once, “I think I know,” he kissed your left cheek, “something we can do,” then your right cheek, “while we wait.”

Your gaze was curious and intense as he started sponging his lips down your front, from neck to chest to stomach. You reclined some, breathing heavy, and he pulled your legs up by the ankle and planted your feet back on top of the dryer.

“Oh,” you spoke, voice caught.

“You okay with this?” He asked hesitantly.

Even though you’d been sleeping side by side something close to 5 nights a week, your little dry humping session last weekend was as far as you’d gone in the sexual intimacy department.

You made a strangled noise. “Christ, yes.”

Grin fully spread across his face, he smoothed his palms up your thighs to your hips and tucked his fingers into the silky waistband of your pyjama bottoms.

“Can we take these off?”

You hummed an affirmed noise, and lifted your arse off the surface. In one smooth pull he had the garment off your legs and over his shoulder, probably in the same vicinity of the book he’d taken off you.

He met your gaze with a lifted brow. “Not a fan of knickers?”

“Not in my jim-jams, no.”

His smile blossomed like daffodils in spring. “That’s either the cutest or sexiest thing you’ve ever said.”

“Can we go with sexy considering what I hope you’re about to do?”

“Sure thing, cutie.”

You squealed a little at the name, but he couldn’t tell if you loved it or hated it. Regardless, he kept a firm grip on your legs and lowered his lips to your knee. In a slow, measured movement, he kissed his way up the inside of your legs with his hot, wet mouth.

Your breath was laboured as you watched him, eyes wide when he met your gaze again but so incredibly keen. To prove it, you pushed a hand through his curls and massaged his scalp, coaxing him forward.

“I’ve wanted to taste you for so fucking long.” He admitted, mouth dragging over the softest part of your thigh.

His hot breath fanned against your waiting lips and you visibly clenched.

“I’ve wanted you to, believe me.” Your voice was but a rasp.

“Yeah?” He sighed happily, left hand moving closer to your centre. He extended his thumb out, “Are you wet for me?” He pulled your lips apart, and the noise he made at the sight of you was practically carnal.

“Harry,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair.

He hummed again, face inching closer to your dripping lips. He licked between you, wetness collecting on his tongue. The taste of you was something better than he could’ve ever imagined and he growled because of it. He gripped your legs tighter, hesitant no more, and buried his face right between your soft thighs.

“Oh, God,” you whined. Your head lolled backwards and both fists found purchase in his beautiful hair, twisting and tugging.

He grunted in response to you, spurred on. He collected as much of your juice as he could, firm stroke after firm stroke of his perfectly capable tongue.

He played with your clit in a way that made you squirm and squeal, eliciting the most delectable little noises out of your hoarse throat. Harry didn’t hold back - he never had in that department. He went for it completely and utterly.

The washing machine launched into rapid spinning, filling the room with wheezing, screaming noises.

“Harry, don’t stop.” You begged, body rigid with desperate tension.

He obeyed your every word. He spread your legs further and further with his digging grip. He burrowed his face into your cunt, tongue plunging inside of you and spading inside your heat like a desperate gardener.

“Yes, yes, yes,” you panted as you lifted your head again to watch him.

His eyes were already on you, dark and hooded and filled with keen lust. His head moved with an eager precision like his mouth did. He wanted you this way. He’d wanted it for so long he couldn’t quite believe he was getting it. You were a goddess, ethereal and perfect.

The washing machine’s cycle reached its peak, vibrating harshly beside the two of you. It was deafening yet the least bit distracting.

Harry pursued his advances on your cunt relentlessly and without breath until your body went rigid and then shuddered. You screamed his name, withholding nothing, any cries drowned out by the washing machine. Your body visibly vibrated like the machine beside you, and eventually your limbs weakened to jelly.

Harry stood straight and helped you sit up again, wrapping his arms around your middle. He tucked your head into his neck and twisted his face into your hair.

“You’re right, that was incredibly sexy.” He mumbled.

He revelled in your returning laughter, the sound light and airy. You showed no shame in clinging onto him, fingers raking through the curls at the back of his neck.

“Maybe you can do it again later.” You suggested, lips sponging against the skin on his neck.

“Any time you like.”

After another minute or so you pulled away, eyes scouring his face. “You’re a mess, sir.” You commented as you wiped your thumb around his shiny mouth.

He made a wordless noise, held your wrist, and took your thumb in his mouth. “I’ll be a mess for you.”

“Perhaps I’ll be a mess for you, too.”

His brows shot up and it made you laugh. “It’s cruel to joke about that.”

“I’m not joking.”

He gave you a challenging look.

“Want me to prove it?” You offered.

Was it even worth the question? “Always.”

You grinned. “Let me put my washing in the dryer and I will.”

He took a step back and bent at the waist, arms extending like he was bowing. “M’lady.”

You hopped down from where you’d been sitting and pulled him in for a kiss.

“Sir.”

~

The kitchen was a hive. And a mess. There was shit everywhere and your anxiety was through the roof just looking at it. It wasn’t an unfamiliar sight because any kitchen your dad found himself in nowadays ended up looking like a pig sty but it didn’t settle the tightness in your chest.

He moved around the room with chaotic precision while you trailed after him tidying up any unnecessary mess, and your sister sat at the dining table Rhys and George had brought up from the basement an hour ago, scrolling through her phone.

“What about him?” Your sister flashed her screen to the two of you, the next Tinder profile filling it.

Your dad leaned over and squinted. “His eyes are too far apart.”

“Ugh. Knew you were gonna say that.” She grumbled.

This was a game you played regularly. Your sister would showcase potential Tinder matches either for her or for you (which you always declined to comment on), and your dad would garner his unfiltered opinion. It was probably a big part of the reason you were both still (technically) single. No one was ever good enough. That, and you didn’t have a Tinder account. Or any dating app account, actually.

“Him?” She flashed the next profile to you both.

Cute. But…

Not Harry.

Your inner tormentor smirked.

“What’s his anthem?” Dad knew all the terminologies now for the dating app world. He liked to call Hinge ‘UnHinged’, because that’s what the suitors on there usually were.

“Um… Wonderwall.”

You gagged, and Dad scoffed. “Next.”

You carried on for a little while, joining in when you felt like it but mostly just trying to keep the kitchen at an acceptable level of clean.

Rhys, Abbie and George were upstairs getting themselves ready for dinner as if it was some kind of gala they were about to attend. They did it everytime; dinner with Dad felt like an occasion. Harry wasn’t home and you hadn’t worked up the nerve to ask if he was going to be. He left at such a weird time this morning you couldn’t figure out what shift he was on and how that would affect his ‘home time’.

“Lay the table please, poppet?” Your dad asked of your sister, because he knew it was the only task she’d willingly do.

She leapt to her feet in a dramatic flurry and made for the cutlery draw. “Have we got enough for matching sets?”

“Very unlikely.” You muttered. You hadn’t eaten dinner with matching cutlery since you moved in.

The front door opened, cold air blustering in and mixing with the heat of the kitchen. Harry stepped in, bundled up in a big coat and rucksack slung over one shoulder.

“Hope I’m not late.” He said in a gravelly voice, smile sheepish.

“Harry!” Dad greeted him with complete joy. “Wasn’t expecting you, what a nice surprise.”

Your sister looked flustered all of a sudden. She’d convinced herself he wasn’t coming. Part of you had, too.

“I’ll just change and be back down.”

“Sure, we’ve got a bit of time yet.” Dad waved him away.

You’d pretended to busy yourself, but you watched as he headed for the stairs and caught the subtle wink he gave you.

Ah shit.

“What am I going to do?” Your sister panicked. “I'm a disaster - I look hideous.”

“No you don’t.” You grumbled. She’d never looked hideous in her life.

“Can I borrow some makeup?”

It was easier to just give her what she wanted rather than fighting her on it. “Sure - what do you need?”

She listed off a bunch of makeup items, most of which sounded completely foreign so you were sure you didn’t have them. You’d just give her your entire makeup bag and let her do what she wanted.

You knocked on Harry’s door before you went back down, makeup bag in hand. He opened in just his jeans, a light straight-leg pair with gaping holes at the knees.

“Hey,” he smiled, and rested an arm against the doorframe.

“Hi… I thought you’d be working late?”

He shook his head. “I was supposed to be. Swapped my shift ‘cause I always miss family dinner.”

“I see… well, you’ve successfully panicked my sister.”

“That was my plan all along, actually.”

“Mhm, sure.” You bit away a smirk. You liked this playful side of him a lot. “If you need half an hour to mentally prepare… I’d take it.”

“Noted, thank you.”

You left him to change and made your way back downstairs. Your sister eagerly took your makeup from you and dashed to the bathroom on the first floor.

Neither she nor Harry, or anyone else for that matter, came down until it was time to sit down.

Your dad sat at the head of the table as he always did, spread laid out in front of you in the middle. You sat to your dad’s right on the corner, and your sister to the left. You knew she was going to try and save the seat on her other side for Harry, but George ended up taking it instead, which visibly irritated her. She did have a particular ‘gay man’s best friend’ vibe about her - they flocked to her like sheep. Abbie sat at the other head, Rhys on her left, and then Harry sandwiched between Rhys and you.

He squeezed your thigh under the table, and you tried to pretend like it didn’t have some obscene effect on your intimate places. You lightly kicked his shin and started piling food onto your plate.

Like some kind of mafia father, your dad went around the table and asked all of the housemates for an update on their lives. He liked to do this, and fortunately your housemates liked pleasing him. He was a good landlord, and that showed by the way they gravitated towards him. He probably wouldn’t do this sort of thing if you weren’t living there, but he had a responsibility to them as tenants as well as you, his eldest daughter.

When you were done eating you sat back in your chair and put your hands in your lap. Harry didn’t hesitate to take one in his own and link your fingers. You peeked up at him as subtly as possible, unable to fight the giddy warmth that spread through you. He didn’t meet your gaze for the sake of keeping everyone else out of your business, but he did squeeze your hand, which only made the airy, slightly delirious feeling inside of you that much stronger.

Your sister spent 20 minutes talking about herself without breath, and as self-absorbed as she was, she was harmless, really. Not to mention entertaining. You never laughed as much as you did when she had her mouth open.

“Harry, you should come to these more often.” She said to him, batting her eyelashes.

You were about to walk her and your dad to the car and send them on their way. Harry was trying his absolute hardest to escape.

He cleared his throat. “I probably should, yeah.”

“It was good having an extra nice body.”

You gave her a look, brow raised. She shrugged. “I think it’s home time, no?” You prompted, gripping her arms and nudging her away.

“Fine.” She huffed, and began walking towards the street. “Bye team!”

Most people had already disappeared to their rooms but you had to admire her spirit. Dad was already gone, eager to go to bed.

You were halfway to the car when your sister asked, “So are you gonna tell me or what?”

You met her gaze with another raised brow. “Tell you what, exactly?”

“Mate,” she swatted my arm, “I am not an idiot. I know when I’m not wanted, because it’s not often.” She could not get any more vain if she tried. “I always did wonder what I had to do to get Harry’s attention better, and today I finally figured it out. I need to be you.”

Ah. Not as ignorant as she appears, then.

You pressed your mouth closed, looking away. “Er,”

“Don’t ‘er’ me. I saw that wink he gave you when he got home, but I thought he was just trying to wind me up. And then he sat next to you, not by choice it seemed, but there was barely an inch of space between you and practically a metre between him and Rhys. Then he just didn’t stop looking at you, even though he pretended he wasn’t. Let me tell you, that boy has not learned the art of subtlety.”

She turned to you then, a searing gaze heavy. “Look, I don’t know if you’re aware of it, or if you’re already shaggin’ him and lying to me about it-,”

“-We’re not having sex.” Yet.

“Okay, fine. Whatever. Just do something about it, please. If I can’t have him you should. Don’t let a man that beautiful go to waste. You hear me?”

“Loud and clear.”

“Good.” She huffed, and then pulled you in for a tight hug. “Fed up of seeing you alone and underselling yourself. You’re hot shit! I know it, and Harry clearly knows it.” She suddenly takes your face in her grasp. “So do something about it.”

~

You appeared in the doorway of Harry’s room around 20 minutes later, fresh-faced and in your PJs. He was reading in bed, having stolen a book out of your cupboard.

“Is he secretly in love with her?” He asked without taking his eyes off the pages, his long finger brushing the spine.

You squinted at the title as you moved closer to him. “Yes. What made you pick that one?”

“Because it’s obviously your favourite.”

“How’d you work that one out?”

“The spine is cracked beyond belief. It’s nearly falling apart.”

“I might’ve bought it from a charity shop.”

He lifted a brow. “Did you?”

“No.”

He put the book aside, focussing all of his attention on you. You’d sat down cross-legged on top of the covers, and you wore a calm yet unreadable expression. There was a hint of something in your eyes. Infatuation, maybe?

“What’s going on?”

You shook your head, smiling. “Nothing. I’m just… happy.”

“Me too.”

You remained quiet for a moment, gazing at one another in a comfortable silence. Eventually, Harry opened his arms in request of your embrace, and you gave it to him without hesitation. You settled against him, head tucked under his chin.

“I like this, Harry. Us.”

“So do I.” He nodded, pressing his lips into your hair. “A lot.”

“You make it easier.”

“Make what easier?” He asked, and then held his breath.

A beat passed. “Life. Sleeping. Consciousness. Cooking. Just… being.”

“That’s a very big compliment.”

“I mean it.”

“I know you do.”

When you peered up at him, he lowered his mouth to yours for a slow and tender kiss. It wasn’t abrasive or demanding; it was perfect. Full of an understanding that neither of you expected to find in another person.

“Tell me about your nightmares.”

“I don’t have them when I’m with you.” You admitted, as if he hadn’t already worked it out. When he didn’t respond to you, you reluctantly continued. “They’re about my mum. She died in a car accident a few years ago and I dream about it sometimes.”

Harry’s heart found its way into his mouth. “You were there?”

“No. My sister was. I was with dad - it was a weekend. Me and dad at his work cooking, mum and my sister shopping in town. Were on their way back and someone just ploughed into the side of the car, driver’s side. She died on impact and my sister was in hospital for a week.”

Harry held onto you tighter, his lips against your temple. “I’m sorry.” He whispered.

“It’s okay…” you swallowed, body tensed in stillness. “I dream about that day a lot. Mostly the part where Dad broke the news to me. Seeing my sister in the hospital plugged in and drugged up. The funeral; the look on Dad’s face. I wake up crying more than screaming, usually.”

He took a deep breath, and he clung to you like you might disappear. “I’m really sorry. Sorry that happened to you and your family, and that you have to relive it most nights. That’s not fair.”

You met his gaze, cupping his cheek. “Ever since we started doing… this, I haven’t had a single one. Not even on the nights we don’t share a bed. I don’t know why, I guess my conscience has decided it’s safe with you. And I do feel safe with you.”

“Then I will stay with you every night to make sure you never have a bad dream again.” He vowed, turning his head enough to kiss your palm. “I like knowing that you feel safe with me. S’a pretty big compliment.”

“I’m full of those when it comes to you.”

His chest swelled, a helpless smile on his face. “Even when you tell me I look like a frog.”

You snorted and hid your face in his chest. “You do, though.”

“Okay, thank you.” He huffed, feigning offence, but he didn’t let you go; didn’t loosen his hold on you.

You talked late into the night until you fell asleep, wrapped around one another and bundled under his bedclothes. Having you so close and being so open gave Harry a sense of clarity. He’d had an attraction to you since the day he met you, but this was turning into something more. Feelings were now coming up to bat, and he had a pretty solid idea of where they were heading.

~

“You are filthy.”

You wiped your brow, meeting Abbie’s gaze with indifference. “I am not letting this garden turn into a jungle again like it did last year.”

“I know, but I’ve never seen you so dirty. You’re the cleanest person I know.”

“Believe me, I’ll be jumping straight in the shower once I’m done.”

It was the warmest day of spring so far, and for once it wasn’t raining, so you’d taken the opportunity the second you had it to get outside and sort the garden out. The winter had turned it into a tangled overgrown mass of green mess, and you’d been desperate to get it sorted.

Abbie had offered to help but had realised very quickly that she was out of her depth, and eventually offered moral support in lieu of the physical kind. You didn’t mind the company - it beat waiting inside for Harry to come home, alone all day.

You chopped away at the forest that had grown, turned the soil over when you found it, and potted some new plants to give it some life. By the time Harry came home your legs were covered in dirt, cuts and fresh bruises, nail beds black, hair full of dead foliage, and just downright sweaty.

Abbie had surrendered to the house to be entertained by Rhys, and George wasn’t home. He was never home much anymore, you were all under the impression he had a boyfriend.

Harry helped you to your feet where you were kneeling in the soil, eyes giving you a thorough once over. “You look…”

“Filthy. Yes, I know.”

He grinned. “Yeah, but I like it.”

“Really?”

He followed you as you collected your gardening tools and hid them in the shed tucked against the side of the house. “Absolutely. You’re so clean and put together all the time, it’s kinda nice seeing you a bit roughed up.”

You hummed out a laugh. “Interesting.”

Harry boxed you up against the wall, out of sight of any of your nosey housemates. His hips trapped yours, hands holding your sides at the ribs. Without a hint of hesitation, he pressed his mouth to yours, eagerness overpowering tenderness.

You simply let him, never one to deny the most handsome man you knew a hot and heavy kiss. You enjoyed being wanted by him. Who the fuck wouldn’t?

“I’ll let you go shower.”

“Okay.” You murmured, delirious.

He pulled away, giving your hip one last squeeze before he vanished into the house. You spent five more minutes in the garden making sure you’d tidied up after yourself, and took some pictures to send to your dad.

Your shower was longer than you’d have liked thanks to the state of you, and in turn it took you longer to clean the bathroom down than usual. You were starving by the time you got back to the top floor.

Harry was at his desk when you slipped inside his room, browsing something on his laptop.

His room and yours were polar opposites of one another. Where you hid all your belongings, made your bed and kept things as minimal as possible, Harry had more shit than necessary. A bulging wardrobe, unmade bed, things everywhere. He was a man with stuff, and lots of it. Sometimes it made you itch. But he wasn’t dirty in any capacity. It smelled of fresh linen and clean air all the time.

“Do you feel better?” He asked, closing the lid on his laptop again.

“Mm. Loads better.” You gave him a warm smile as you perched on the edge of his bed.

He rolled over to you but abandoned the chair halfway to stand up. Then he crawled over you, forcing you to lie backwards and caged you against the bed.

“You smell amazing.” He said with a voice like gravel.

You ran a hand down his front and slipped it under his t-shirt, trailing your fingertips over his chest. “Thank you,”

He lowered onto his forearm, face an inch from yours and groin against your pelvis. You inhaled sharply, noticing the very obvious stiffness coming from Harry’s midsection. His hand smoothed the length of your side, down your thigh to your knee and then back up again to your arse.

He met your mouth with a kiss, deep and hungry. Dizzying. He led and he was all over you, tongue devouring yours.

“It was a lot harder than it should’ve been to not follow you into the shower.” He admitted.

You let out a soft whine and fisted his t-shirt, pulling him flush against your chest. You wanted to feel the weight of him on you. “You should’ve.”

He returned that with a growl, and his hand on your arse gripped tighter. Your name tumbled off his lips in a husky plea, “I want you so fuckin’ bad.”

Hooking your legs around his hips and pushing his centre against yours, you gave him the silent go-ahead. You looped your arms around his shoulders, fingers tangling in his hair.

“I’m right here, and you can have me.”

Something inside Harry snapped. Any reservations about your desire for him vanished. His kisses became punishing and carnal. His hands on you a little rougher than before, than ever. Possessive.

You helped him out of his top and in turn he helped you out of yours. You scooched backwards up the bed as he drank you in. It wasn’t lost on you that this was the first time he’d seen your top half naked. Somehow, amongst all the nights of bed-sharing, you’d never been fully naked.

His eyes were dark, hooded. He looked at you like you were his last meal, and honestly you lived for it. You wanted to die under that gaze.

“You’re so sexy.”

You bit away a timid, flustered smile. Bashfulness wasn’t sexy.

He stalked you like a wild cat as you lay back. His mouth and hands descended on you again, searching and exploring every inch of you, searing hot and wet kisses into your skin.

His hands slipped into your pyjama bottoms, feeling around your arse again before he tugged them down your legs, leaving you completely stark under his burning gaze. A strangled moan fell out of him while he regarded your naked form, hands smoothing and squeezing your hips, your waist, your boobs.

“You’re so fucking soft.” He said the words like praise.

You laid your hands on his as they travelled over you, and he pushed his mouth back to yours in that same eager dance as before. He ground himself against you, hard as a rock underneath his joggers, and it was doing all sorts to your core. Your heartbeat fell down and down again to your middle, slick heat flourishing between your legs.

“Please, Harry,” you begged him, pushing his hand down.

“What do you need?” He asked, a little cruelly, as if he didn’t know exactly what you needed.

“Touch me.”

The man gargled at you. He was fucking strangled. He traced between your thighs delicately to the point it tickled, and swiped a finger easily in a stripe up your folds, wetness collecting.

“Like that?”

“Yes.” You wriggled under him, desperate for more. “More.”

He played with your clit teasingly, enjoying the way you squirmed. “More?” He asked as he slid a finger into your waiting heat.

A small cry left you. It wasn’t enough and he knew it. “More.”

“Bossy, aren’t you?”

You whined. Now you were the one being carnal. You gripped his head tightly and kept your mouth to his, tongue abrasive and lashing.

While he wound you up in the most irritating way, you found your own ways to move him on. Your feet dug into the backs of his thighs and pushed downwards at an attempt to budge his joggers off. You didn’t want to wait anymore. You wanted him in all his solid glory, right now.

“Are you trying to take my bottoms off with your feet?”

“Yes.” You grunted.

“Oh,” he gave you a dark laugh as his kisses trailed back down your front, “that’s gonna cost you.”

He licked around your belly button, the warmth of his hands vanishing from your body to push his joggers down. He gave your cunt the shortest, most mind-blowing piece of attention with his mouth, dragging noises out of you that you weren’t even aware you could make. Then he turned you over without warning, on your front, and tugged your arse up to rest against his crotch.

You gasped, excited by the somewhat aggressive nature he’d taken on. Your Harry - soft and gentle as they got - man-handling you. You peered at him over your shoulder as he produced a square foil wrapper from somewhere and ripped it open with his teeth. He watched you watching him as he rolled it down his shaft, drawing your attention to it - visually, anyway - for the first time. You had to swallow the lump in your throat.

“This what you wanted, darlin’?” He asked as he smoothed his hand over your arse, but his gaze never left you. “You want me to fill you up with my cock?”

“God yes.” You said without a hint of a waver.

“You want it like this?” He lined himself up, fisting himself at the base, and glided the head of him through your wet, parted, waiting folds.

“Yes.” You whimpered. “Please. Please please please.”

He made that noise again, his large fist grabbing your hip as he hovered at your entrance, and then he thrust himself inside you.

A ripping, searing pain had you wanting to scream so loudly you had to shove your face into the mattress to muffle it. An ache blossomed in place of the initial pain, one that was all too familiar and yet quite unfamiliar. It had been absent, like a friend who lived too far away. Now it homed itself inside of you like it belonged there. Perhaps it did, and the only way to quell it was to entertain it.

“Jesus fucking Christ, you feel good.” He hissed, his hands squeezing your hips and your bum in turn.

Harry pulled out, enough that only his head remained inside you, and then he gave another powerful thrust until he completely filled you. “So fucking good, my God.”

He started moving, in steady, sharp movements. He didn’t want slow. Hell, you didn’t want slow. You wanted fast and hot and sweaty, and that’s exactly what he gave you.

Harry started fucking into you so viciously you could feel it in every part of your body, from the jiggle of your tits to the shake of your arse to the rock of your hips. Oh, and the stretch of his cock as he buried deeper and deeper inside you. Every part of your body was aflame with need, a desire, a craving to be fucked into oblivion.

His hands were on your hips again, fingertips digging into your skin. He rocked you back and forth in time with his thrusts, not that you needed him to. You were doing that all on your own.

He grunted and hissed through every single powerful drive of his cock into your cunt, your name tumbling out of his mouth over and over again.

“Harry,” you whimpered, “harder.”

He growled and obeyed, pistoning inside of you.

“Yes, oh fuck yes.” You cried, head burrowing again.

You felt him on you, all over you then, his chest against your back, lips kissing your shoulders and his arms with a vice grip around your middle. His skin was tacky, as was yours. You were surrounded by a cloud of packed heat, like a humid summer day.

“You are…” Harry began to say, panting in your ear, and his head shook against you, “fuck, I can’t even think straight.”

You moaned, lifting up and twisting your head in search of him. He caught your chin and brought your lips to his in another deep, claiming kiss. You wanted every kiss to be like that from then on - owning, possessing, asserting. You were his and you wanted him to know it.

He gave another round of punishing thrusts before he made a winded noise, “Turn over,” he pleaded, “I want to see your face.”

A whimper fell out of your mouth when his thickness disappeared from inside you, and he helped you onto your back before he got straight back in there. He was low over you, chest on your chest, hand on the back of your thigh, and his eyes roamed your face while it contorted with pleasure.

He hooked your leg over his hip and went harder. Harder, faster, harder, faster. Your head lolled back and a string of curse words fell out of your mouth. His lips danced across your chest and you tangled your fingers in his hair to keep him there. There was nothing better than being worshipped by a mouth. Especially Harry’s mouth.

He licked and sucked over your skin until your boobs and sternum were littered with little purple spots of lust, and honestly you didn’t care. You wanted them all over you. You wanted yours all over him.

His hips never stopped moving - pushing, pushing, pushing you towards a beautiful, glorious high like a high-speed train ploughing towards a dangerous cliff edge. God, you wanted that edge and you wanted it now. You wanted to be flung off it whilst securely attached to the man currently pushing you there.

You pulled Harry’s mouth back to yours, holding your body to him as you clenched, milking him towards his end and yours. You needed it. Your head was about to explode with rampant thoughts and you needed to wash them away.

“Fuck, Harry,” you whispered, neck and shoulders spiked with heat. It radiated off you.

“I know.” He groused and bit your lower lip. “I’m fucking close. So fucking close, and I’m gonna blow if you keep doing that.”

“Please do it,” you begged, clenching again to feel his growl in your mouth, “come, Harry.”

And boy did he fucking come.

His body wracked with a shudder, movements ceasing as you wrapped yourself tightly around him. His muscles rippled beneath your fingertips while he came, oblivious to your own masterful undoing.

You calmed together, lips moving in tender kisses until your breath was caught again and your limbs were sore. You deflated when Harry abandoned you to clean himself up, and you dipped into your bedroom to do the same when you found the strength.

When he came back you snuggled up to him in his bed, between his legs with your head on his chest. His lips grazed through your hair, breathing light and content.

“I am… fucking obsessed with you.” He mumbled.

You traced your fingers over the hair and the swallows on his chest, a warmth filling you, like an acceptance. Being wanted hadn’t mattered to you until now. Until Harry.

“I… am also quite infatuated with you. And I have been for some time. Just… quietly.”

“You been sniffin’ my bed sheets while I’m at work?”

You giggled and nuzzled closer to him. “No. Not recently, anyway.”

“Not recently?”

“I’ve never sniffed your bed sheets, Harry.”

“I wouldn’t mind if you did.”

“I’m weird, but I’m not that weird.”

“But you’ve been infatuated with me for ages.”

“Not enough to go into your room and sniff your bed sheets.”

“Did you do anything a bit weird?”

“No.”

“Really? Not even… a little… you know?”

You gave him a bewildered look, and he waggled his eyebrows at you.

Haha. You totally did that, you creep.

“Maybe.” You murmured, hiding your face again.

He chuckled and held onto you tightly. “I did, too. Feeling’s always been mutual, darlin’.”

You heaved a content sigh. “I’m glad it was. I really do like this. Us.”

“Me too.”

~

Harry had been living life with a permanent spring in his step. He had you, living in the same house and sharing a bed, cooking at dinner time, shagging at night time, and just generally being wonderful, fantastic, gorgeous, brilliant you.

Tonight you were at your dad’s house with your sister so he was cooking alone, but George was in the living room watching one of those daft culinary competition programs on Channel 4, the commentary filtering out with an occasional expletive. Abbie and Rhys were out but would likely be home soon. You’d be back eventually, too, and he liked knowing that nowadays you came home to him.

Rhys and Abbie came back first. Harry had decided to join George in the living room, too intrigued by the shouty drama on Come Dine With Me to ignore it.

Abbie gasped at the TV. “This is the one!” She squealed.

“What one?” Rhys demanded. “Oh, yes!”

“What am I missing?” Harry asked, a little bewildered.

George shushed everyone with a finger to his lips. “I’ve been talking him through it but I want him to see.” He flailed a hand in the couple’s direction.

All four pairs of eyes glued to the TV, a vetted interest in the argument unfolding. The contestants from that week’s episodes were gathering in the final host's living room, bank notes spread in a circle atop a silver tray and holding up a scroll wrapped in red ribbon.

The front door of the house opened again, and in you waltzed, a baffled look on your face. Very rarely did you come home to find everyone in the living room.

Abbie squeaked your name, begging you to join before it kicked off on the telly. “Come on, quick.” She patted the space between her and Harry, conveniently.

His eyes were no longer interested in the TV drama, only in you.

“In fourth place is… me.”

“Ah,” you said in recognition of the scene on the telly as you sat down. Your arm brushed against Harry’s as you tucked your right foot under your left thigh, and caught yourself before you settled into his side like you normally would.

A chorus of patronising oohs filled the room from the contestants on the screen. The host was shaking his head.

“Wait, is this the-,”

“You won, Jane.”

Barking laughter filled the room from the housemates, including Harry, but the host didn’t stop there.

“Dear Lord, what a sad little life, Jane.”

“You’ve got that on a T-shirt!” Harry swatted George’s arm.

“Damn right I do.” He grinned. “Cultural icon.”

“You, or the bloke having an aneurysm?”

“Both.”

“... grace of a reversing dump truck.”

More squeals filled the room, as if the entire scene hadn’t been a meme for years now.

Abbie patted your shoulder. “Did you see the video of Penn Badgley doing this?”

“Obviously.”

“Wait, I wanna see.” Rhys frowned.

Episode forgotten, Abbie found the clip on her phone and showed it to everyone.

“Oh my God, I think I’m going to hear it in that voice forever now.” George muttered, a wistful look in his eyes.

“Shall we watch a movie or something?” Abbie suggested, a hopeful look in her eye. “We never do anything all together… it would be nice.”

“I’m up for that.” Rhys grinned, because why would he ever turn down one of his girlfriend’s ideas?

“Yeah, me too.” George nodded.

All eyes turned to you and Harry. You couldn’t very well say no now, it would look odd. Especially if you both did, which is what you both wanted to do. There were two perfectly good beds upstairs, one of which needed to be destroyed. That wasn’t very well going to happen if you both sat on the couch and watched a film with your housemates.

“Yeah, sure.” You finally said, because you hated the way everyone was looking at you.

“Go for it.” Harry managed, much worse at hiding his disapproval than you were.

“How are we going to decide, then? ‘Cause I don’t really watch the horror films you two are into,” George pointed between Abbie and Rhys, “and Harry probably only watches underground indie movies or something.”

Harry had no idea what gave him that impression, but the laugh that came out of your mouth - hearty, loud and delighted - was worth the assumption.

“Why don’t we all write a movie name down on a piece of paper that we’ll all like - a comedy or something - and do a raffle.”

“Okay, but who’s choosing?”

Harry rolled his eyes and waited for the inevitable to happen. George and Abbie fought for five minutes, both arguing that one of them should choose, and then the decision was given to you as the honorary house mediator. Everyone wrote their choices down on a scrap of paper and dropped them all into one of Rhys’s beanies. Then you closed your eyes, body screaming reluctance at having to be the decision-maker, and plucked a folded square out.

Your mouth lifted at the corners. “Shrek 2.”

Snacks were brought in, beers were shared out, and someone pressed play on the film where it had been queued up.

“Wait!” George screamed.

You all looked at him, bewildered by his dramatics. He’d even stood up.

“What?” Rhys gave him a baffled look.

“I wanna sit in the armchair.” George pointed to the very one Rhys sat in. “I don’t wanna sit in a couple sandwich. A third wheel is bad enough, but a fifth wheel is a disaster.”

“What are you talking about?” Harry asked, laughter nervous and the ultimate giveaway.

“Oh fuck off if you two think we don’t all know you’re a thing.”

Your body tensed. Harry could feel it, the way you went from soft to rigid in a split second. “What?”

“We’ve known for ages.” Abbie said with a sweet smile.

“Yeah, like, the second Harry moved in.” George rolled his eyes.

“But we haven’t been-,”

“-Maybe not the whole time, but definitely recently. I can hear the floorboards creak, you know.” George gave you an accusatory glance. Curse him living directly beneath you. “Amongst other things.”

Harry wasn’t sure whether he was relieved or whether he wanted the ground to swallow him whole. His cheeks and the tips of his ears had turned pink, and you looked like you were in shock. “Right…”

“I am slightly offended that you didn’t want us to know.” Rhys folded his arms. “What did you think was gonna happen?”

He had a point. What did you think was going to happen? Mild ribbing and inappropriate jokes? It wasn’t exactly any of their business what the two of you were doing on the top floor, but that didn’t mean you’d needed to hide everything from them. Why had you stopped yourselves from being affectionate when around them? They were your friends. You all had inside jokes and a group chat and emoji code names. They were like a second family in a way. Even though you all enjoyed your own company, you liked each other too.

“I think… for a while we didn’t really know what was happening.” Harry finally spoke, twisting in his place. “We just started hanging out and it kinda grew from there.”

“I called this on day one, by the way.” George said smugly.

“It’s true, he did.” Abbie nodded, still smiling. “Two good-looking people at the top of the house? Recipe for heaven.”

“We’re happy it finally happened. Just… don’t hide shit like that from us. We’re all friends.” George was back to scowling.

“Friends.” Rhys cooed, like Jay from The Inbetweeners.

“Anyway, now that’s all out there, can we start the film please? Or it’s gonna be my bedtime.” Abbie flailed her hand around.

The movie started, everyone settled into their places, and you managed to find a comfortable position against Harry’s side.

Even though you chatted along with conversations and laughed at the telly, Harry knew something was off. You were still tense, and you didn’t touch him like you normally would. He wanted you in his arms, not pushed awkwardly against his side. He wasn’t sure if it was because you were uncomfortable displaying affection in front of other people, but whatever it was he wanted to make it go away.

He shifted at one point in an attempt to wrap an arm around your middle, but instead you moved further away. That utterly terrified him.

As the movie credits rolled, everyone started to move, ready to get to bed for the night. Except you.

“Guys,” You said, quiet as a mouse, but everyone heard you. Because you never stopped anyone for anything, “can we all have a chat?”

Dread nestled itself into Harry’s stomach. A chat? About what? Everyone? Why did everyone have to be present? What was going on?

The housemates sat back down, if a little tentatively, gazes wary. You finally gave Harry your attention, if only fleetingly with a worried smile.

“Are you alright?” Abbie asked and pulled your hand into hers.

Harry leaned forwards.

“You’ll all be getting an email tomorrow, but I wanted to tell you in person.” You licked your lips, stare heavy on the stone floor of the living room. “Dad is selling the house.”

~

A little piece of your heart broke that evening when your dad told you his plans to sell. It was a place that you had such an odd relationship with, because while it cost a lot of money and caused a lot of financial problems, it also brought you a family you never asked for and a man you never dreamed of having.

You knew your dad would try and hold onto it as long as he possibly could because it had become your home, and he’d been in bits over dinner as he broke the news. He cried, so you cried, and then your sister cried, too. Everyone had been a mess.

“What?” George said, dumbfounded. Hell, everyone was dumbfounded.

“It’s the last thing he wanted to do, but it’s kind of burning a hole in his pocket and we can’t afford it anymore. Between the leaking second floor and dodgy plumbing there’s also woodworm and stone repairs and all sorts of other crap I don’t want to bore you with.”

“You found this out today?” Abbie asked, bottom lip trembling.

“Yeah, an hour or so ago. I’m really sorry, guys.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Rhys frowned.

Abbie crawled across the small gap between her and you and wrapped her arms around you. “We get it. It’s old, it’s a bit rickety and it needs a lot of TLC. We all know your dad gave it all the care he could afford and it’s okay that he can’t afford it anymore.”

“How long do we have to find new places?” George asked, biting his lip.

“As long as it takes to sell. Given the condition of the place it could be fuckin’ ages.” You managed a laugh.

“If your dad needs us to do anything, he just needs to let us know. And we’ll make sure it’s tidy as fuck for viewings and shit.”

“Thanks, Rhys.”

The housemates starting shifting again, collecting up their bits and leaving with softly spoken good nights. You still didn’t move, and neither did Harry. After a quiet minute or so, he slipped his hand into yours and gave it a gentle squeeze.

“What are you thinking?” He asked in a gravelly whisper.

You took a deep breath, nibbling away at your lower lip. “That I’m scared.”

“Scared?”

“Mhm.”

“Scared about what?”

You turned to face him, cataloguing every crease of worry on his handsome face. “Us. What this means for us.”

He gently cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking over your cheekbone. “What do you think it means for us?”

“Well, I don’t know. I’m scared it means the end, when I don’t want it to. I’m scared that what we’ve been doing is just… convenient? And now that we have to leave it won’t be so convenient anymore and it will be over.”

“You don’t want it to be over.” It wasn’t a question.

“No. Not even a little bit. I… I don’t want a night without you ever again. I can sleep with you around. I can breathe. I need to breathe, and I can’t do that without you. And part of me hates that I need you, but I do, and the rest of me that doesn’t hate it tells me to fuck everything to the wind. Because it’s not just need, it’s also a want. I just want you around, like you have been. Presence is such a funny thing when it comes from different people, but yours… I like yours. A lot.”

Harry spoke your name in a low voice, gaze on your mouth as he smoothed his thumb across your lower lip, “I don’t want it to be over, either.” He meets your gaze again, cool, calm and collected. “I really hoped it wouldn’t be at any stage ever, least not because we have to leave the house and find another one. I’ve been living with you for three fucking years and I also don’t want to have to spend a night where you don’t live with me. Hell, it’s not even a fucking option. I know you love this place because it’s your family’s, but I don’t care where we live as long as we do it together. I’ve been looking at other places since the day I moved in, and the only reason I haven’t bothered to leave is because you kept me here, whether you meant to or not. And now we have to leave, and I’m sure as shit gonna take you with me, because I can’t live without you.”

You stared at him for a moment, and then launched into his arms, tackling him into the sofa. You peppered his face with kisses until he caught your lips and held you there, happy in the knowledge that you needed each other and that was absolutely fucking okay.

“You’re special to a lot of people, but especially to me.” Harry mumbled into your lips. “I’m selfish enough to not let you go.”

“I don’t want you to.”

“Good.”

You remained in the lounge for a little while longer, wrapped up in one another, until movement began upstairs and you decided it was probably time to head upstairs to bed. Before you made it to the stairs, Rhys and George appeared in front of you. Rhys looked apprehensive and George looked irritated he’d been dragged out of his room again.

“What’s going on?” You asked, cocking your head.

“Abbie’s in the loo so I’m gonna make this real quick before she comes back.” Rhys threw a wary glance over his shoulder. “I need your help.”

~

Every morning was the same.

This week it had been, anyway. You woke up with the sunrise, wrapped in Harry’s arms, and you listened to his heartbeat and his unconscious breathing for a blissful twenty minutes before his alarm went off. Then he’d fall out of bed with a reluctant yawn, mooch his way around the room and disappear into the bathroom to get ready for work.

Upon reappearing he’d head to the kitchen to make a coffee and leave a cup of tea on your bedside table, then a kiss on your lips, and then you’d watch the man who defined ‘sex on legs’ leave your apartment from the comfiest spot in the bedroom.

Today was the same, but different. He wasn’t going to work today, and neither were you. It meant longer in bed, with enough time for sexy shenanigans, then he’d make for the bathroom, bring you tea afterwards and breakfast.

You spent the day in bed, right up until 5 o’clock when you had to get up and go out to give your keys back.

Yes, your dad had managed to sell the house. It had taken a while, but it got there. The new owners were moving in tomorrow, and you’d all arranged to meet your dad and your sister there to do a final ‘handover’.

George had moved into a studio flat in the centre of town but spent most of his nights at his boyfriend’s place. Rhys and Abbie had finally bought that house they always wanted, out of town but easy to travel into. And you and Harry also had your own place, still renting and in the city, but it was yours together, and that was all you wanted.

“Are you nervous?” Harry asked as you walked up to the front of old Blackpool Tower.

“I’m not the one that needs to be nervous.” You shrugged, even if you had been the one to help Rhys with most of the planning.

He’d been a lot of work over the past few weeks. After he initially asked for your help he spent so long searching for the damn jewellery he forgot about the rest of it. You had reminded him on many occasions that it didn’t need a big song and dance, but he insisted, because he wanted it in the house you’d all shared with her favourite people to witness it.

The garden was lit up in the early evening with fairy lights and candles. George, your sister and your dad were already at the far end waiting for Rhys and Abbie to arrive. You gave over your keys - dad had the house professionally cleaned even though you had offered, because it was too big a task for one person.

Blackpool Illuminations

Rhys We’re nearly there…

Yes, Rhys had really named the group chat for the planning committee ‘Blackpool Illuminations’.

You stood next to your sister who wrapped herself around your middle, and Harry kept hold of your free hand.

“I hope she says no.” Your sister said, and Harry snorted. “Just for a laugh.”

“I don’t think Abbie has it in her to say no to Rhys.” You mused.

Five minutes later the couple in question turned up. Abbie had no idea what was going on, obviously. She’d been told they were going for dinner and then for a walk. The walk was always supposed to end here, at the old house.

Abbie gasped at the sight before her, hands on her mouth as she moved through the garden. “What’s going on?”

Behind her, Rhys swiftly dropped to one knee and presented the ring he’d spent months agonising over. “Abbie,”

You all watched and listened as Rhys spent five minutes talking about how perfect his girl was for him. It was very typical Rhys - overboard and unnecessarily long. Most things maybe could’ve been kept for his wedding vows.

Just as your sister was about to explode from restlessness, Rhys finally asked, “Will you marry me?”

“I would’ve said yes five minutes ago.” Abbie giggled, nodding, and held her left hand out.

George and your sister started hollering, your dad was pretending not to cry, and you fell into Harry’s hold again, watching the happy couple with a warm smile.

“I hope to God they don’t ask me to help plan the actual wedding.”

Harry chuckled and pressed his lips into your temple. “I’ll make sure they don’t.”

Your sister presented herself in front of you with an assured look on her face. “When are you two getting engaged, then?”

Harry choked behind you, and you gave your sister a bewildered look. “Reel it in, please.”

“What?” She shrugged. “Being in love suits you. A wedding would really suit you.”

“A wedding isn’t something you arrange for an aesthetic, sis.” You reminded her.

“Speak for yourself, but I do recommend heavily considering it.”

After she turned away, Harry lowered his mouth to the shell of your ear. “I wouldn’t mind marrying you.”

You tightened his arms around you. “One day.” You said with a kiss to his palm.

His smile imprinted on your cheek. “One day.”

~.~.~.~.~

Thank you so v much for reading if you make it this far. It’s a long one, I know. The longest one shot I’ve actually ever done. Much love to you <3

#harry styles smut #harry styles smut imagine #harry styles smut imagines #harry styles #harry styles imagine #harry styles imagines #harry styles fic #harry styles fanfic #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles writing #harry styles fluff #harry styles angst

[liminal-space-lesbian]

BG3 Ladies cuddling headcanons

Thank you guys so much for 200 followers (even tho I’m literally never active 💀) I’m currently obsessed with Baldurs Gate so if y’all have some headcanon requests or blurbs or whatever send them over. I won’t commit to writing entire fics bc I’m writing exclusively on mobile rn 😀 but I wanna do a little something

These are mostly self indulgent sorry guys🤧

Karlach:

The second she gets her engine fixed it’s nonstop cuddles. Whenever you’re not traveling or fighting some absolute cultists, Karlach wants you in her lap. Or vice versa, she won’t complain.

Loves loves LOVES when you play with her hair. She just wants to be petted <3

She usually likes to be the big spoon, or just wrap you up in her arms entirely because she loves the feeling of holding you against her chest. However, if she had a bad day or after a particularly rough fight she will climb into your arms and tuck her head into your chest. You’d best rub her back and tell her how much you love her, bc my girl needs a little TLC every now and then.

I’d say Karlach likes to be face to face when cuddling, because she gets the most attention that way. Also best position for kisses!! She loves leaving kisses all over your face, especially your forehead. She loves getting kisses too, she’s constantly giving you puppy dog eyes and asking for kisses throughout the day.

Verdict: Karlach is a lover girl (we knew this)

Shadowheart:

Shadowheart is a bit reserved when it comes to cuddling. She loves it, don’t get me wrong, but she also values personal space a lot. She usually settles for resting a hand on your thigh, or holding hands even. She’ll lean against you while sitting next to you, and even rest her head on your shoulder.

When you’re alone in her tent she will climb in your lap and talk about whatever topic has her currently intrigued. She loves being pampered, honestly. I mean, she’s Gods favorite princess, how can she not?

She usually likes to be receiving attention like kisses and hugs, even back rubs and other forms of affection like that. She does give back though, she’s just more hesitant because she is honestly a bit shy! She can flirt all she wants but when she has real feelings she gets a bit nervous. She doesn’t want to violate a boundary or overstep!! Also she worries about being annoying.

Her favorite cuddle position is when you lay on your back and let her cuddle into your side, resting her head on your chest. She enjoys the freedom it gives her, she is the one in charge of how much contact there is. She also likes being able to drape her arm and her leg over your body :3

Overall Shadowheart is not a huge cuddler, but at the end of the day she likes to curl up with her lover as much as anyone else <3

Lae’zel:

Hates cuddling. Any affection, actually. She thinks it’s disgusting and weak!

However….

When you two are alone she may or may not lean against you. And hold your hand. And maybe even rest her head on your shoulder. And climb in your lap. And…

Okay maybe she doesn’t hate affection that much.

She had honestly never experienced tenderness in such a way before meeting you. She detested it at first, because it felt almost too good to be true! It seemed like a trick of sorts even. A strategy for her to let down her guard so you could strike.

But… you never did. And Lae’zel reluctantly warmed up to the idea.

Her favorite position is surprisingly enough, little spoon! She likes the feeling of you wrapping your arms around her, it makes her feel safe. She’ll say it’s because you are behind her to protect her from sneak attacks, but honestly she’s just a sucker for a good hug.

She will NEVER be caught DEAD cuddling by your companions though. Cuddling is strictly behind closed doors. The best you’ll get is a handhold or a quick kiss.

Ultimately, Lae’zel is secretly a bit of a softie. I SAID IT!! She is very hesitant with affection because she is ultimately distrusting, and gentleness in general is foreign to her. After she warms up to it though, you bet she is climbing in bed and instantly tugging your arm over her waist. She would rather die than let anyone else know that though, especially Shadowheart.

Dame Aylin:

Omg hot lesbian demigod with wings?? You know the cuddles are insane.

Alyin is a lovergirl, you can’t change my mind. She wants to be in your personal space 24/7 and LOVES having a hand on you in some way all the time. She particularly enjoys having her arm wrapped possessively around your waist. Loves kissing you randomly all the time too. A century of being trapped in shadow fell will make a girl pretty touch starved.

She loves to be the big spoon, but she also enjoys lying on her back and having you just lay completely on top of her. She wants as much physical contact as possible. She loves rubbing your back or playing with your hair, and just kissing every inch of exposed skin she can reach.

She also enjoys having you sit on her lap. She’s constantly pulling you down onto her lap so she can wrap her arms around your waist and rest her chin on your shoulder. She doesn’t care who sees either, she’s happy to show off her love for you.

Isobel:

Isobel is such a love, omg. She’s unbearably sweet, she loves cupping your face in her hands and kissing you impossibly gently. She also loved just giving you random hugs throughout the day. Holding hands!! She just loves being near you.

She likes sleeping on her back, so she’ll let you cuddle into her side. She also adores playing with your hair as you fall asleep. It lulls you to sleep, and also helps her wind down after a long day. She also enjoys the way you trace patterns on her stomach as you two talk before bed, she cherishes how loved it makes her feel.

She’s not exactly shy about her affections, but she doesn’t enjoy the feeling of other people watching you share a moment. Those moments are private and sacred to her, so she tends to keep the affection light when people are around. Maybe just handholding and quick kisses.

When you’re alone though? This girl is showering you with all the affection you can handle.

A/n

Yes I know Aylins wings are technically just her armor but for the sake of the plot PRETEND THATS NOT TRUE !!

#bg3 #bg3 headcanons #bg3 lae'zel #bg3 shadowheart #bg3 karlach #bg3 dame aylin #bg3 isobel #karlach x reader #shadowheart x reader #lae’zel x reader #dame aylin x reader #dame aylin #aylin x reader #isobel x reader #isobel thorm #Isobel Thorm x reader #bg3 fluff #cuddles #bg3 fluff headcanons

[midnightsapphire]

just thinking about modern!aemond who wants to take over the successful family corportation since viserys is getting old and knows his time is running out, but both his older siblings rhaenyra (from the first marriage) thinks she should have it while spoiled burnout aegon who doesn’t want any part of it gets dragged into being named ceo because of his mother and grandfather

and modern!aemond owning a deteriorating antique car that’s been in the family for generations that he graciously names vhagar and loves her like his own child (which he may or may not have stolen from his cousins but “they weren’t even old enough to drive so why should he care”), constantly working on her and fixing her up while aegon and helaena have the newest car models constantly

and sweet baby aemond who is always on top of the family business, their stocks, takes care of paperwork and grueling meetings while aegon sneaks into frat parties and carelessly hooks up with random women he keeps around for less than a week before ghosting them

but everything changes when aegon “turns a new leaf” and brings you home. sweet, studious you who’s top of your class, has a good education and has a stable job that provides for your family and aemond is just fucked because you’re everything he wanted in a partner (even when the thought has never crossed his mind until you came along) because you’re so intelligent, can keep conversation with him and his family, you manage to keep aegon in check (but you aren’t stupid and know he isn’t faithful, but your kind heart can never stop giving him another last second chance)

aemond knows though, just by the way you look at him, how you put your hand on his arm when he makes you laugh harder than aegon does, the way you look for him first in any room even though your boyfriend has been right next to you the entire time, the way you start wearing the things he secretly gifts you. you don’t laugh at the fact he’s blind in one eye from an incident with his nephews that caused the family rift, the way you show Vhagar the same TLC he does the rare times you help him work on her, even if it’s just handing him a wrench or wiping the grease off his face and handing him water since he’s been working on her all day in the hot sun. he just knows

he’s going to steal you from his brother, no matter what. 

if this gets enough traction i’ll 100% write this

UPDATE : we’re 100% gonna write this

#aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen fic #modern aemond targaryen imagines #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen angst #aemond targaryen blurb #hotd imagines #hotd imagine #hotdfanfic #house of the dragon imagines #aemond oneshot #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon imagine #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfic #house of the dragon angst #aegon targaryen #aegon targaryen imagines #aegon targaryen imagine #foryoupage #ewan mitchell #tom glynn carney #modern house of the dragon

[nahoney22]

I know requests are closed... but who else could I tell those fantasies I have about Dogma?

He'd capturing my thought and I make it your problem, too. 😏

Just imagine the sweet man one night alone at the barracks in his bunk. And he’s like: 'Okay, maybe I should try for once what the others think is so great about that self-pleasure.'

He even just blushed at the thought about it. But then he locks himself in and undresses, takes some lube he finds in someone else's locker.

Then he lays down and... ohhh did that sheet always felt so good on his skin? At first he just tries carefully with his fingers. It’s not enough. He almosts gasps when he wraps his hand around himself...

That’s when he loses it! You've never seen someone looking so sweet and sexy when he lets go. Absolutely lost in that sensation. So much he's even humping his blanket.

He never slept so well in his entire life like after that evening. Maybe he should try something else too sometimes?!

Taking it Solo***

A Dogma One Shot

word count: 1.2k

After Dogma finds himself alone in the bunks, he takes some time to reflect. Maybe, he deserves some TLC.

warnings: explicit sexual content, explicit language, solo male masturbation, first time masturbation, this is dominantly a Dogma fic by itself but there is a very minor mention of someone/reader.

authors note: bestie you just know I LOVE me some Dogma smut. He deserves some.. alone time. Enjoy! 🤍

The nights seemed longer than ever, burdened by the unrelenting war. Every Clone carried the weight of uncertainty about the coming day, but none felt it as keenly as Dogma.

Known for his unwavering obedience, which had earned him his name from among his brothers, he walked alone to the barracks one evening, a departure from his usual routine.

He couldn't understand why he had lied to General Skywalker about feigning illness, or why the General had accepted it after he stuttered his way through it. Regardless, Skywalker had told him to rest, and rest he would.

That, at least, was his plan.

As the barracks door hissed open, Dogma was greeted by a dimly lit room, rows of bunk beds immaculately kept. He had never felt so alone, and strangely, he welcomed it.

Walking to his bunk, the door sealing shut behind him, he sat on the edge and released a heavy sigh. A nagging guilt gnawed at him for evading today's mission with a lie. But, it was too late to sprint back to the hangar and ask Skywalker if he could join the mission now. Instead, he lay back and fixated on the empty bunk above him.

His thoughts meandered, with no particular focus, as his fingers absently traced the sheet beneath him. Then, a new and unfamiliar thought invaded his mind. His mouth grew dry, a sudden desire ignited within him, leaving him bewildered and slightly flustered. He cast a cautious glance around the room, once again finding solace in its emptiness, yet his heart began to race unevenly. Where was this leading him?

He stilled his hands and steadied his breathing, but the thoughts persisted.

During the times when Tup and Fives dragged him to 79's (literally), he found himself subjected to stories about their intimate life. Though Fives’ stories seemed more far-fetched rather than they were believable. It didn't exactly bother him, but it never piqued his interest. Plus, he was always wary of breaking the rules. Yet, deep down - way deep down - a part of him couldn't help but wonder what it might be like to be with someone, to experience some kind of physical connection in that way.

His grip on the sheets tightened once more, and his eyes closed as he pondered. Have the sheets always felt this soft? Had the constant specter of war effectively numbed him to every emotion he should have been experiencing?

He had enough. Enough of wondering. He gets up and quickly marches towards Fives’ locker and somewhat unsurprisingly, it’s unlocked. He knew he had some in here after bragging about it and grabs a bottle of lube. He pauses, stares at the tube and second guesses but the nagging feeling of wanting to explore something new was too powerful to ignore.

He crawls back into his bunks and checks the coast was clear once more before sliding his pants down, just past his knees. To his surprise, he was already half-hard under his underwear.

Dogma savours the moment. Savouring the idea of being alone with just his thoughts and without immediate responsibilities that puts his life at risk.

Gently, his left hand came up to caress his chest, pondering what it’d be like to feel someone’s hand touch him where his heart lied. Then, he began running his fingertips slowly over the ridges of hard muscle. He’d never been the most muscular of the 501st, but he’d always been slightly toned.

As his fingers stroked from his sternum down towards the waistband of his underwear, a countering shiver ran upwards from the base of Dogma’s spine, making the hairs at the nape of his neck stand up, and a soft sigh to escape his mouth.

Almost apprehensively his fingers stroked under the waistband of his pants and through to his pubic hair until he reached the base of his member.

Wrapping his index finger around to the underside, his thumb pressing on top, Dogma then began to gently stroke just his two fingers from the base to just below the head of his cock. He let out a soft sigh, the warm feeling of his hand against his flesh was…pleasant, relaxing.

He continued the motions for a while, lazy strokes up and down, occasionally swiping his thumb over the slit until he was hard enough.

Biting on the inside of his cheek, Dogma turns to the bottle of lube to feel something different.

As he puts a squirt of lube into the palm of his hand, the warm and slippery substance creates a puddle. With languid motions, he begins to stroke his cock. Slow and tenderly.

“Fuck,” he rasps almost silently. His neck cranes back, the sheets moving underneath him. The slick feeling of his cock between his hand made him almost melt in absolute bliss that he was missing all of this for so long.

His mind riled with different thoughts, imagining how it would feel to have someone sit between his legs and tend to his cock as tenderly as he was, wondering what it would be like for someone to cup his balls and praise him.

He wanted praise. He needed praise.

“S’good,” he mutters to himself, licking his lower lip as his hand dived further down his cock until he managed to caress his balls, rolling them slowly in the palm of his warm and slicked up hand before moving back to focus on stroking.

His eyes open slowly, eyelids heavy as his toes curl in delight at the sensation of getting pleasured, his breathing heavy, needy.

Words strangled in his throat, the pleasure burning through his veins that his eyes rolled into his head and shut again.

His grip on his cock sped up, the lewd sound of him pumping taking over the room, mixing with his short, soft grunts.

He went back to picturing what it’d be like to be beside someone, to have someone to hold and someone to fuck. Hard. Soft. But as he did, his mind went back to 79’s and that one person who gave him a second glance. Just that once. Those eyes, that laugh, that smile that now burned into his brain. How would they feel, nude and pressed against him as he rocked his hips against them? Would their skin feel as soft as the sheets that soon started to stick to his body?

“I wish you were here,”

He could feel his orgasm start to slowly build within him, his previously measured strokes becoming unsteady and harsh as Dogma moans into the chilly air of the barracks.

Fingers gripped tightly just below the head of his cock, he roughly worked the top of his length. Moaning loudly, imagining vividly, he hauled himself up so he was kneeling on the bunk.

His head dropped forward to his chest, and beads of sweat rolled down his neck as his climax built, throbbing against.

One, “oh f-fuck, yes!”

Two, “please… please…”

Three more firm strokes of his length and he was there, his cum falling over his messy bed sheets.

He stutters, body twitching at his climax before he collapses down onto his bunk with a thud. He laid there for a few minutes, panting and thinking about what he did. He knows he should get up and clean himself but for now, just for one minute, he felt calm. He felt content.

Masterlist

tags: @andyoufollowyourheart @littlefeatherr @kaitou2417 @eyecandyeoz @captxin-rex @jesseeka @ashotofspotchka @theroguesully @ladykatakuri @jambolska-grozdova @arctrooper69 @padawancat97 @rain-on-kamino @either-madness-or-brilliance @staycalmandhugaclone @ko-neko-san @echos-girlfriend @fiveshelmet @dangraccoon @plushymiku-blog g @chrissywakingup @kixs-husband @pb-jellybeans @nunanuggets @sleepycreativewriter @erellenora @zippingstars87 @tech-aficionado @grizabellasolo @therealnekomari @tech-depression-inventory @brynhildrmimi @greaser-wolf @tinyreadersmur @seriowan @kaminocasey @marvel-starwars-nerd @ladytano420 @ladyzirkonia @raevulsix @whore4rex @imperialclaw801 @temple-elder @mysticalgalaxysalad

#dogma #arc trooper dogma #clone wars #clone wars smut #clone trooper smut #star wars #nahoney22 writes #dogma x reader

[hoedamn-eron]

mrs tillich's hot grandson

Your elderly neighbour, Mrs Tillich, is so lovely...as is her grandson.

Warnings: Mentions of dementia in a relative. Elderly relative needing a live-in nurse. Mentions of past military career. Sort of proofread, prone to mistakes. Word count: 1,714 GN!Reader, no use of Y/N.

What's this!? A one shot!? I'm sorry I've been gone for four weeks, I've been hyper fixating on Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit (it's taken 20+ years but I've finally watched them).

Your neighbour, Mrs Tillich, is a ray of sunshine.

She’s pushing on 100, she has a live-in nurse with her, and loves to be in her garden, which was when she usually caught you to have a chat, over the fence you share, usually when you were leaving for work or coming back. Honestly, you had no problem with speaking to her; as you said, she was everything that was good in this world, and she brightened your day.

You suspected she had some sort of dementia; she’s introduced herself to you multiple times, and repeatedly tells you about her ‘very good looking and single’ grandson.

“He’s a strapping young man,” she’d told you one day, giving you a wink. “He’s in the military, you know?”

You always smiled politely and told her that he sounded very interesting and maybe one day you’ll be introduced, but so far, you hadn’t met the guy.

You hope it’s the gentleman who visits her once a month, who gives you a polite nod if he ever catches your eye if you’re in your driveway. He’s a real silver fox and is always dressed so smartly. He makes your stomach do somersaults whenever his dark eyes meet yours. And God, that jawline.

Today’s forecast was sunshine all around, and you decided that it was the perfect opportunity to give your garden some TLC, and maybe even wash your car. You dress in light clothes, accommodating the hot weather outside and you step out. Your long-abandoned gardening tools were in your garage, and you had some old plant seeds from last year, gifted to you from Mrs Tillich. Hopefully, they would still be okay.

After gathering your things, you settle on your lawn and get work picking out the weeds and giving your garden a general tidy up. You bask in the sunlight, listening to the sounds of birds, and cars passing, and the sounds of the Johnson kids a few doors down, having a water fight from the sounds of it.

You’re so lost in your own world that you don’t realise someone has joined you.

“Hi.”

You jump and look up at the source of the voice.

It was him. The silver fox. He was stood on Mrs Tillich’s side of your adjoining fence, his arms crossed, and Christ, is it normal for a shirt to stretch like that over someone’s arms?

“H…hi,” you stammer before you clear your throat. Pathetic. “Hi.”

His gives you a small grin before he holds his hand out. “I’m William. But I usually go by Bill, you can call me Bill if you want.”

You stand quickly and make your way over. You shake his hand as you introduce yourself. You ignore the way your skin tingles as he shakes your hand.

“Nice to finally meet you,” he said, before crossing his arms again. Defensive guy. “We saw you – me and my grandmother – in your garden, and she told me I should introduce myself. She said you were friendly, and ‘single’. I apologise if she’s been a bit persistent.”

So he is the grandson!

You shake your head at his words, giving him a soft smile. “No, not, she’s…not at all. I enjoy chatting to her, she’s really nice.”

“She can be...” he says before going quiet, giving you a look as if he felt sorry for you, but also trying to placate you. “She’s a bit...you know.” he motions to his head.

“Really, you don’t have to explain yourself,” you say, giving a kind smile. “I don’t mind chatting to her, really.”

William nods at you and you both fall into an awkward silence. You bite the inside of your lip as you study him for a second. What do you talk about? You feel like you know this guy pretty well, thanks to your neighbour, but now he’s in front of you, you can’t think of anything to say.

So you blurt out the first thing that come to your mind that you remember about him. “So you’re in the military?”

He tenses, his jaw setting as he stares at you with a hard look on his face.

“Mrs Tillich mentioned you were...” you say, going quiet at the look on his face. “Never mind, I might have misunderstood - “

“I’m not in the military anymore,” William said quickly. “She gets confused, because...you know...” he motions to his head again.

You stand and chat some more before he says he has to get moving. He was nice; a little quiet and reserved, maybe, but polite. And a little awkward. He stared so intently as you talked, and it gave you butterflies. He tells you it was nice to meet you and he heads back inside the house. He sends you a wave goodbye when he leaves a few hours later.

He visits again sooner than you expect, just a few weeks later. He gives you a small wave with the usual nod this time as he pulls into her driveway. You give him a wave back, but you don’t stop to chat. You don’t know when he leaves.

He comes back again a few weeks after that, but you’re not home. You only know because Mrs Tillich tells you about it the next day. She mentions Bill asked about you, causing your cheeks to warm as you tell her, “That’s nice, I hope he’s doing well.”

She actually giggles at you.

He doesn’t visit again for another few months, which was odd. You couldn’t help but ask Mrs Tillich about it, and she giggles at you again. She explains he’d been busy.

“He travels a lot,” she said, but you’d gathered that yourself. “He still calls me every few days.”

When he does come back, you’re shovelling snow in your driveway. He drives carefully up his grandmother’s driveway before climbing out the car, wearing the warmest – and most expensive – looking grey coat. He gives you the nod and a wave in greeting as he walks towards Mrs Tillich’s house, and you give him a smile and a wave back.

Like the last time you saw him, he doesn’t stop to chat.

You can’t help but feel disappointed, and somewhat put off. Had you made a bad impression last time? You had made that comment about the military, and he didn’t seem too happy about it, maybe it was that? But you were only going off the information given to you.

Whatever, you didn’t know they guy, you shouldn’t feel so sad about it.

You continue to shovel the snow from your driveway, trying not to think about William Tell, but after a while, you’re shocked out of your reverie again.

“Hi.”

Just like in the summer, you jump, and you look at him, where he’s stood behind the fence with a small smirk on his face as he watches you, his hands in his pockets.

“Hi,” you say, stopping to face him.

“Been a while.”

“It has,” you say, giving him a nod.

He swallows, and it was so subtle you would have missed it if you weren’t watching him as intently as you were. Surely, he wasn’t nervous?

“I’d like to apologise,” he said after another moment of silence. “For last time. I’ve been told I can be a little intimidating and it comes off as rude. I didn’t mean to be rude.”

You shake your head at him. “I didn’t think you were rude at all.”

He gives an amused huff through his nose. “You don’t have to spare my feelings - “

“No, really, I thought...it was nice talking to you.”

You go quiet, and you stare at each other again in silence.

You can’t get a read on this guy. You can’t tell if he likes you or not. You’re not even sure if you want him to like you. He’s only your neighbour’s grandson, and sure, he’s good looking and has a nice-looking body from what you could see, but really, he doesn’t seem all that interested in you –

“I may be way off base here, and I apologise now if I’m wrong, but would you like to go out for dinner sometime?”

Oh. Maybe he is interested.

“Yes,” you say instantly, without even thinking.

“What?” he asks, his eyes widening a little, as though he wasn’t expecting you to accept his offer.

“What?” you asked back, eyes just as wide, because had you answered too quickly? Were you being too eager?

“You want to go out for dinner with me?” he asks again.

“Yes,” you say, immediately again.

“Okay,” Bill nods, before giving a small smile. “Okay. Okay, great.”

Your cheeks warm as you smile shyly. “Great,” you breathe.

You stare at each other for a while, and your insides feel all gooey. Then he’s looking at you expectantly, but you’re sure you’re just giving heart eyes to him. “So…can I have your number?”

“What?” you ask, blinking at him before your eyes widen in realisation. “Oh, yeah, yes!”

He hands you his unlocked phone and you place your number into it (you’ll deny your hands were shaking until your dying days). You send yourself a quick text and feel your phone vibrate in your pocket as you hand his phone back to him.

“I’m pretty much free most evenings and weekends,” you say, trying not to sound like too much of a loser.

Bill nodded at you with a smile. “I leave in a few hours, but I’ll be back to visit next week, so…I’ll call you later, we can arrange something?”

You nod. “Yeah, that’ll be great.”

He gives you a nod. “I’ll see you later.”

“See you later,” you say as he turns and walks back into his grandmother’s house, but not before he turns back to look at you and gives you a wave.

You wave back.

You can’t stop smiling. And now your thoughts are filled with the forthcoming phone call about your date next week. What were you going to wear? Where would you go? He isn’t from round here, so maybe you could suggest a really good place. You’ll be cool, you’ll be collected, you’ll not throw yourself at him…you say as you shamelessly think about how much of a filthy kisser he might be…

#the card counter #william tell #william tell x reader #william tell x gn!reader #oscar isaac

[moodymisty]

Long time listener, first time caller (so to speak XD) and I’m absolutely ADORING the Primarch content so why not officially throw my hat into the prompt-making ring??? My brain worm of the day is something in the same vein (haha blood puns) of Sanguinius’ where there gets to be a private more relaxed moment. Prying our dear Primarch away from his work for just a few precious minutes, maybe longer if it can be managed, to calm tf down for a bit. These guys are overworked to hell, they could all use some TLC let’s be so fr rn. I couldn’t nail down exactly who to pick but I did narrow it down to a top three, Dorn, Rob, and Magnus. Those three I think are the ones most likely to literally pass out at their desks (impressive given their demigod status but I’m sure they’d fuckin manage to somehow XD). Idk if there’s much to really be done with this idea I’m just in my “let these guys be human for 4 seconds plz” feelings again 😭

As always love your writing, Misty! Have fun, no rush, no pressure ❤️❤️❤️

(P.S. Plz tell your cutie chaos birb all us readers say “hi!!!!” XD)

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's note: So you sent this in and then I just kinda blacked out and when I came to I had this in my drafts. Enjoy.

This post has been approved and sponsored by the Imperial Fists.

Summary: Dorn takes a moment of respite during a particularly frigid night on Inwit.

Relationships: Rogal Dorn/Fem!Reader (no pronouns are used tho it's just the vibe if you know what I mean)

Warnings: General 40kness so mentions of war death etc, Dorn being pretty emotionally stoic, Me worldbuilding too much

Word Count: 1567

Inwit is cold.

Dorn had told you this as the Eternal Crusader moved to finishing mooring on the frozen planet, and you'd nodded in understanding. You lack the convenience of sealed Astartes armor, the cushion of air heated thanks to their unusually hot body temperature.

You knew already that Dorn's homeworld was an ice planet, so you didn't quite understand why he was telling you again.

What Dorn seemed to not specify however, was just how cold.

Your bed is covered in four different pelts, and you're still freezing. You have a blanket just for your feet, and they still feel like they're going to fall right off. At least during the day, you had an outer layer of clothing made of thick fabrics, in a design and shape more than likely traditional to Inwit. You assume Dorn had it requisitioned for you, but he mentioned nothing of it other than sparing a glance in your direction when he first saw you in it.

But now that outer layer lays on the trunk at the foot of the bed, and you're seriously considering attempting to sleep in it.

You know it's snowing outside, it always is, the fresh white layer of snow reflecting the light of the moon and illuminating more than what could be seen on a warmer planet at night. You can see more snowflakes fluttering downward, hitting the icy window. Your teeth feel like they are going to clatter right out of your mouth.

Inwit is cold.

And because of it you haven't been able to sleep, merely lay in bed trying to distract yourself enough to maybe drift off.

It would be better if Dorn was here; His body runs so hot you probably would've been able to leech the heat right from him and perhaps get a few moments of rest.

But Dorn is still tirelessly planning, as rarely does the man ever indulge in rest. He'll often times take on the the extra work to let you, one of the few silent ways to tell you he cares about you. Now is one of those times you so desperately wished he wouldn't do that and just join you before you actually froze to death.

Giving in you lean upward and kick your feet outward, sliding off the massive bed and hauling one of the smaller pelts with you. Your hands pull it tight over your shoulders, while slipping on your shoes. Without them just putting your feet on the floor felt like they were stepping on a solid block of ice.

You know Dorn is still at work in the messy workshop he uses as his personal room. If he won't come to you, then you'll come to him.

It's less cold now that you're on your feet and your blood is pumping, leaving the private quarters and walking into the hall. It's late, so it's largely empty apart from the occasional serf at work. You quickly pass by and keep walking until you find the door down at the far end of the hall. One of many in this maze of a building. You'd call it less so a palace, and more so a fortress.

You open the door and gently close it behind you, looking through the dim lighting across the room. You can see Dorn's outline as he sits planted at that massive desk. He's leaning against his hand, elbow seated firmly against the top of the desk. His hand doesn't even seem to be writing, and for a moment, you almost think he's asleep until he turns to you.

"What are you doing here?" You tug the pelt tighter around your shoulders and try to stifle a shiver.

"I couldn't sleep. Shivering too much." Dorn's face is just as stoic as always, though it softens just the tiniest at you admittance of discomfort.

"You will get used to it soon enough." You sincerely hope you do, because you're not sure how long you'd be able to stand this if you weren't.

Rubbing your hands together you swear you can see your breath, even in a room being warmed by a large but waning fire. Keeping fires blazing nonstop is considered wasteful by many natives of Inwit, given the scarcity of materials. It may be easier now given the ability to import, but Inwit being a Ice World will always remain. Life will never be truly easy. Not even close.

Trying to hold back a shiver you walk closer to him, watching his eyes glance to you for a moment. He's paying attention to what you're doing, even as you slip underneath his arm. You twist and turn until you sit across his thighs, leaning back against his arm as you look over his desk.

There's blueprints on them; Rough ones, scattered with various small notes and adjustments for a future draft.

"What are these for?" You don't really expect an answer, but Dorn does actually surprise you with one.

"Another wing for the Imperial Palace." You hum, looking over the mess of lines as your legs drape over his own. They only make basic sense to you, learning by sight in situations much like this.

His free hand lowers off the desk to cup the side of your thigh instead of leaning his jaw on it, keeping you from sliding off of his lap. It also holds your pelt blanket closer to you, keeping you trapped in a small pocket of warm air. Thankfully he isn't wearing his armor, so you can actually feel the heat of his body against you.

"You should go back to bed." You press harder against his chest as if worried he'll remove you as he continues to plot out rough measurements and structural supports.

"You aren't there." Dorn draws a singular line from one drafted spire to another, writing something along it.

"I don't need to be." You purse your lips.

Dorn has always been like this. He speaks with such indifference one would think that he doesn't feel anything; You wouldn't blame them for thinking it. You know he does, and quite deeply, but he's been harshly trained over so many years to barricade it so deep within himself that it will never seep out.

Dorn wants you to rely on him, not depend on him. He's formed and molded his legion under the same idea; That you should rely closely on your allies as they're pivotal to your survival, but you should be able to stand just as strong on your own. You shouldn't need him to sleep till morn.

At least, that's what Dorn wants to want. Sometimes he finds himself doubting. You aren't an Astartes; He brought you into a world of demi-gods and giants expecting you to hold your own, but he'll always desire to protect you from it all. You provide him with a tiny shard of glass that reflects back the humanity they're fighting for. That him and his sons had resigned to never being able to see. Sometimes he wants nothing more than to indulge in more moments like this.

Your head lays against his chest, and you divulge in the warmth after spending so long near freezing.

These blueprints span the entire desk and even curl off the edge at one end, with various notes drawn over them. There's so many redraws and revisions that it's hard to tell whats what, you don't even know how he reads them. But you still watch him anyways with hooded eyes.

"Dorn..." He knows what you're going to ask, as his hand stays firm and unyielding on the side of your leg so you don't slide.

"When I am done."

You had come here with the hope to bring him back with you, but now you find yourself trapped here with him; His personal vox making noise from the corner of the desk.

He silently hands you the device, and you begin reading them out while he continues to work.

"Requisition orders got approval, news that the Faithful Servant has been waylaid by a severe technical malfunction," You yawn. "Alexis Polux wishes to speak with you."

You remember that name. He's an extremely competent and surprisingly humble Astartes, from Inwit the same as Dorn. He's apparently recently been made Captain, judging by the honorific attached to his name. You remember speaking to him once. He deserves the title.

"And... Something about the Night Lords. They," You yawn again. "One of their ships drifted towards a battle barge a bit too close for comfort." Dorn doesn't find that surprising. The sons of Konrad enjoy those sorts of intimidation tactics, trying to goad fights and spread unease through even their supposed allies.

Dorn holds on your words waiting for you to continue as his pen slides over the parchment, until he finally looks away from his blueprints for the first time since you entered the room.

You're asleep. Your head is leaning against his chest, and mouth just lightly parted as you breathe. You had completely failed in your attempt to get him away from his work, not that it had a high chance of working to begin with. Dorn watches for a moment before he finally sits down his pen and takes the vox from your loose hands, setting the device back down when he'd taken it from. That same hand returns to you and fixes the pelt you'd brought here, keeping it from falling to the floor.

Picking up his pen again Dorn sighs- and continues to work.

#I'm like so fucking stupid for Dorn it isn't even funny it's kinda just sad at this point #Rogal Dorn x reader #primarch x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #Rogal Dorn/Reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

[delopsia]

So you don’t have to answer this unless you want to but what are your thoughts of how reader, Bob and Rhett ask for comfort when they’re having a down day or when they’re upset.

Like I’ve had the thought that when Rhett is feeling down and just in need of some TLC he quietly walks up to one of his lovers and just wraps his arms around them, resting his head on their shoulder and watches whatever they are doing and just basking in the warmth of his lover.

Anyways what are your thoughts!

ohhhhh omg :( this is perfect. For the sake of organization, I wrote out Robert and Rhett individually and then included a bonus combination at the end💐

✧˖° Robert “Bob” Floyd:

Robby's quite subtle when it comes to asking for comfort. Not necessarily out of shyness, but because he genuinely doesn't think to ask for it a lot of the time? Being on his own in the Navy for so long has sort of put him in this headspace of dealing with his emotions and distress by himself. So, a majority of the time, it doesn't occur to him to reach out to you and ask for comfort. More often than not, the signs are loud and clear. To you, at least. He pokes at his food. His shoulders grow tenser. Spooks at small things that typically wouldn't surprise him, like a knock at the door. But because he hasn't thought much of his own distress, he's not entirely sure what to think when you ask if he's alright. Every once in a while, he gets to a point where he feels like he needs to reach out. And that almost always ends in him lingering in the doorway, silent until you acknowledge him. Only then does he mutter a soft, "bad day." Regardless of how you learn of his low mood, his preferred comfort never changes. Distraction. A long walk on a trail, buddying up and reading each other's favorite books, a movie marathon, visiting the library, and finding the most obscure novel or DVD on the shelves. He's not too particular about what you do, as long as it's done together and a relatively relaxing experience. Nothing that'll stress him out even more, y'know? That being said, Bob can sniff out a bad day from a mile away. You still haven't figured out what you're doing to set off the alarm bells. Sometimes, you'll come home from work to find that he's set up a nest of blankets and stuffed animals in your corner of the couch. Your favorite drink is always nearby, even if that meant he had to go out to get it. He doesn't press very hard. Usually, a small "Do you wanna talk about it?" is the most he'll offer. Generally suggests all of the things you like, but if you don't want any of those, he falls back on absurd suggestions to make you laugh. Do you want to go skydiving? Rocky mountain climbing? 2.7 seconds on a bull named Fumanchu? ...he is not above making a fool of himself just to get you to laugh.

✧˖° Rhett Abbott:

More than often, this ol' cowboy goes completely silent. Doesn't want to talk about what's got him upset. Refuses to recollect the events of the day that lowered his mood. He goes off by himself for a while, wallowing in the emotion of it all, and as soon as he's recollected himself, he's latching onto you. Snuggling up to you in bed. Coming up behind you, looping his arms around your waist, and resting his head against your shoulder until you're doing with what you're doing. Tagging along on your errands and sitting in the car while you head inside. Particularly enjoys it when you let him lay down and put his head in your lap. Especially when you run your fingers through his hair, gently raking your nails across his scalp. It'll put him to sleep within mere seconds. Rhett craves the quiet comfort of being with you and not saying a word. He doesn't need anything else, just an afternoon recharge with you. If you're having a bad day, all you need to do is quietly walk up to him and open your arms. He gets it. Of course, verbally asking for comfort works, too, but silence is a language this cowboy speaks the best. He loves on you the same way he would want it, a quiet presence that doesn't push for explanation or recollection. If you want to talk about it, that's fine with him, but he's not the type to press. And when he does speak, it's quiet. A whisper. Suggesting all of the things that make you feel better. Asking if you want to come to the feed store with him, promising to let you stop and see the new shipment of chicks. Suggesting a nap, a movie, or a long drive that may or may not get you both lost.

✧˖°Together:

...they're a mess. You would never think it, but one is easily affected by the other. Rhett's upset over something Perry said to him? Robby's upset right along with him. Usually doesn't even know what's bothered Rhett. Bob's having a bad day? Well, now Rhett's down in the dumps, too. You're upset? The entire household might just crumble apart. Poor Bobby has learned the hard way that Rhett needs some space before he's ready to be fussed over. There was an instance very early in the relationship when he unintentionally pushed before the cowboy was ready, and it sparked an explosive argument that ended in Rhett storming out for a couple of hours. Bob just wants to help, but Rhett's not ready for said help. It's only happened once, fortunately. The growing pains of a relationship, if you will. Nowadays, Bob's the first to notice when someone else is upset. Again, there's something about tiny interactions that set off alarms for him, and he falls into a routine. If it's Rhett who's upset, he'll settle up on the couch with a movie and wait until Rhett comes slinking around the corner like a feral cat. Rhett can and will lay directly on top of him and use him as a pillow. If you're upset, then Bob will go out of his way to get Rhett in the loop, and they'll set something up together. Usually ends with Bob comforting you and Rhett coming in with something he picked up on the way home from work. Sometimes, Rhett will notice Bobby's in a low mood, but Bob will deny it and say he's okay. All until a big ol' cowboy snuggles up on top of him like an oversized lapdog and stays there until the fool gets the picture. Think of Rhett as a gigantic weighted blanket. Similar to Bob, Rhett reaches out to let him know when you're upset. It's more of a 'hey, you're better at this than I am' than anything. Comfort isn't his strong suit, so if he can't figure out how to make you feel better, he can and will go out of his way to haul Bob into the room. Has actually swept the poor man off his feet and carried him to the couch for some family comfort time. Oh, but if they're both upset, it can go one of two ways. Bob's instincts kick in, and he devises a plan to make them both feel better, or they come bumbling into the room you're in like a pair of puppies. Glued at the hip, never once letting go of each other as Rhett snuggles into your side and Bob squeezes in to hitch his chin over your shoulder. A lot of the time, they unintentionally make themselves feel better by doing it because someone almost always starts giggling. Group naps and cuddles are the best things you can give them. Something quiet for Rhett but enough to distract Bob's wandering mind. Squish their cheeks, play with their hair; it all works. Being loved on is all they really ask for. And, of course, loving on you in return 💐

dlkjhfg this got long fast, omg.

#rhett abbott #bob floyd #robert bob floyd #bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott #rhett abbott headcanons #bob floyd headcanons #robert bob floyd headcanons #robert floyd x reader #robert bob floyd x reader #rhett abbott x reader

[stupidlovergirl]

Human TV I Think They'd Watch

All the Bros and Dateables

Dev Notes:I have been watching Kitchen Nightmares while writing and how I think Barbatos might like it,, and then it lead to what human world TV they might like,,, maybe spent a little to much time on it instead of working on WIPs

Lucifer

Really likes old people TV

He watches things like How It’s Made, National Geographic documentaries, if he wants a little laugh those shows about “aliens”. Skin Walker Ranch is his dirty little side piece TV show

He just enjoys educational shows because they are easy to tune out

Really loves Soap Operas. Young and the Restless and General Hospital are kept up with religiously(hah). He, Diavolo, and Barbatos usually watch it. Dia really likes it and Barbatos watches when working with Dia second hand while doing work. He latched on after watching it in the background a few times.

Also, just the news. Mans will put on a 24 hour news station and will keep it on for like, 5 days. 

Mammon

He watches Harrison Porter, so give him the joy that is Lord of the Rings and The Hobbit.

Would also enjoy the Spiderwick Chronicles movie since he doesn’t know how bad it was compared to the books

Just a big fantasy fan honestly. Loves them.

On another note, he also loves trashy reality TV and News. The only one who beats out his love for celebrity gossip is Asmo. When he is putting on a TV show to go brain dead to its something from TLC, like 90 Day Fiance, I Love a Mama’s Boy, etc. 

He watches the Kentucky Derby, bets on it a lot (loses a lot too)

His dirty secret show/movies are Hallmark movies. He watches them when he won’t get caught. Hopeless romantic nerd (Affectionate)

Leviathan

You’re joking

You’re joking right?

Anime or DIE!!! (/hj)

Also really popular fantasy movies based on books. He will rip them to shreds when you watch them. Can be fun if you read the books, annoying if you haven’t.

Has a soft spot for magical girl animes, obvi

There isn’t really much to elaborate on, half of his personality is anime and nerd stuff.

Just a few favorites I think he might have with no explanation:

Tokyo Mew Mew, Yugi-Oh, Death Note, Naruto, Angel Beats, Lucky Star, Soul Eater, Watamote, Saint Tail, and Cowboy Bebop

Satan

King of detective shows

He loves trying to find them out

It is canon he loves the Devildom equivalent of Midsomer Murders, so just show him that too

I think he would like Forensic Files too.

Also, thriller movies. And psychological horror movies.

He loves them, he typically can predict an ending, but it's nice to see how they write out how the characters themselves find out

Asmo

Trashy reality TV!!!!!

He and Mammon watch 90 Day and Mama's boy and talk shit about them.

Loves Maury, Jerry Springer (rip my king), Parent Court when he's feeling a little frisky

Next Top Model and RuPaul's Drag Race. It's about the DRAMA! The OUTFITS!

Watched part of Euphoria but honestly? Found it mid. Sorry but he just couldn't understand the hype after the writing started to plummet.

Has watched Jersey Shore, will not elaborate on his opinion.

Tbh, he also doesn't really watch much because he feels like he has better things to do with his time, he only watches it for Brotherly Bonding, and for background noise

Beel

Haha, big guy hardly watches TV

Watches workout videos primarily

He likes learning new work out and dietary things

Has been banned from watching any type of food shows. Sorry Diners, Drive-Ins, and Dives.

Will participate in movie night, primarily for food, buhe does pay attention

Honestly just watches whatever someone else typically puts on with no complaint

Belphie

Much like his twin, doesn't typically seek out TV watching.

Much easier to watch on his phone

He does enjoy satisfying videos

Watches Rug cleaning videos, silly ASMR videos, Video essays when he can't sleep and gets curious. Loves obscure media and icebergs.

The essays are about the only thing that goes on the TV

Sorry but he just doesn't care much.

Will also participate in movie night, almost always falls asleep. Still can tell you the entire plot of the film.

On a very rare occasion will watch South Park. Will not elaborate on this one.

Solomon

Loves old TV shows to some newer ones

I Love Lucy, The Twilight Zone, The Muppet Show

I cant really explain the Muppet Show, but I know its true, it is in my bones

Honestly loves older sitcoms. They just hit different.

Can I mention I Dreamed a Genie and Bewitched? Classics in his eyes. Would fight to the death for them

Will make a off hand comment on how he doesn't feel like TV is the same anymore

Watches reality TV in the background when Asmo turns it on when he lounges in either one of their rooms

I feel like I just can't explain most of these, but they are the truth in my heart and that is enough

Simeon

Haha...What?

Watches whatever Luke or Solomon puts on or whatever someone else would suggest

He has a preference for books most of the time I feel like. Just goes with the flow

Just suggest something and he'll put it up for the next movie night when it's his choice

I really can't think of one he would pick oops.

Barbatos

He watches whatever Diavolo puts on in the background. Likes the Soap Operas some times, gets a little annoyed with anime voices when he has a migraine.

Kitchen Nightmares and Hell's Kitchen just hits right for him. Loves the insults

He doesn't much watch TV either though. Prefers audio books since they are easier to carry around

You essentially have to beg to watch TV with him, he's a busy butler ya'know?

Diavolo

KING OF FLEXIBILITY

Has watched all of it, and will continue to do so.

Has a special place for Soap Operas and Ruri-Chan

Seen all the classics, the new block busters, all of it

Honestly you wonder how he gets the time?

He really likes consuming stuff, so he does it when he is working on paper work he puts on the subtitles and turning the audio on low and going HAM

Couldn't be me, I would get distracted

For the most part he's watched it all, and what he hasn't is on his to watch list. He just likes talking to his friends about it :)

Luke

GREAT! BRITISH! BAKE! OFF!

He likes seeing the different foods

It inspires him so much, it's so cute watching his eyes sparkle as he sees something he likes and he writes it down on his phone

Also, he really likes watching Bluey. He lets Simeon and Solomon, and Barbatos found out (because he knows everything), but would DIE if anyone else found out

Also likes early 80's and bad CG horror movies. Kid literally laughs and Mammon is losing his mind next to him. I think because of the bad effects it makes it more tolerable.

Killer Klowns from Outer Space slaps man what can the kid say?

I think I'm projecting hard onto him,, but he's my son so it doesn't matter

#obey me shall we date #obey me headcanons #lucifer obey me #mammon obey me #leviathan obey me #satan obey me #beelzebub obey me #belphegor obey me #solomon obey me #simeon obey me #barbatos obey me #diavolo obey me #luke obey me

[impossiblesuitcase]

the time tlc is set in surprises me sometimes lol. Like the fact that we're probably a few generations older then JANNALI. The rampion crew are great great great grandchildren fr

Nah, it's a lot further in the future than that.

In Marissa's timeline, you have First Era, Second Era and Third Era. We today, the common era, are in the Second Era.

World War III happens and sometime later the moon is colonised.

60 years later it becomes a republic.

An unspecified amount of time later, Cyprus Blackburn makes himself King.

Marissa's website says this all happens centuries before the Third Era. The Lunar Monarchy is said to be very old, and since Marissa says that the gift spread through Cyprus and his descendants' promiscuity, there needs to be a fair few generations for it spread to everyone on Luna. In Winter Kai walks down a "long hall" lined with the portraits of past Lunar rulers, so there has been many monarchs, not just a handful. Then:

World War IV finishes and the Third Era begins.

Michelle Benoit is born 56 T.E so Jannali is presumably born around that time.

The events of the main books happen 126 T.E

All this considered, TLC takes place anywhere from 300-500 years from now, though it could be even more. Here's a potential timeline:

The moon is colonised approx 2060.

Then another 60 years it becomes a Republic, taking us to 2120.

Several centuries of the Blackburn monarchy pass, so let's say the Third Era begins 2300.

Then 126 years of the Third Era takes us to TLC happening in 2426, roughly 400 years away from us today, 2023.

TLC will be about 15-20 or so generations away from us right now. I think it can only be around 300-500 years because you would expect tech to be more advanced if it were 600+ years.

edit: also! Universal language is a new language combining English, Spanish and Mandarin, so that would've needed time to form! After all, we can still read and understand Shakespeare from 500 years ago, so a new language would need several centuries to develop.

#the lunar chronicles #lunar chronicles #tlc

[herosplatling-replica]

A Little TLC

Rhythm Doctor one-shot, 4,524 words, General category

Ada and Ian have been overworking themselves again. The Intern decides to help out.

Doctor Ada Paige let out a rumbling sigh as she collapsed into her office’s armchair by the fireplace, trying not to fall asleep then and there.

The shift today had been especially torturous – Ian was busy in the hospital’s basement trying to code whatever miracle cure Edega wanted him to make this time, and the Intern was running around like a headless chicken trying to keep everyone’s heart rate stable. She still had the Janitor and the Nurse helping her out here and there, but Ada found that she was having a hard time keeping up with the workload that Doctor Edega kept shoving onto her.

...It probably doesn’t help that I haven’t slept well at all lately, Ada thought to herself, taking her glasses off and folding them up. Don’t have the chance to get groceries, and don’t have the luxury of sleeping in, ‘cause I’d need to be up in time for the next shift…

It gnawed at her. The Middlesea Hospital staff needed more people; was the budget really stretched thin enough to warrant a skeleton crew setup? She was barely getting enough sleep, how was Ian doing having to handle new irregularities in the patients’ heart patterns? Ada tried not to worry, but it was all she did, really.

Paige took a deep breath, pinching the bridge of her nose as she exhaled. It’ll be fine. It’ll be fine. Ian’s used to this… You can get used to it too.

Breathe in, breathe out.

God, this job is gonna be the death of me.

Ada continued to breathe, massaging the pressure point between her eyebrows as the headache that threatened to creep up on her passed. She just… needed some rest. All of them did, really. She tried to picture a stress-free day, finding her idea of it included a big meal and a freshly made bed waiting for her at home.

The doctor finally felt like she was relaxing a touch. Her eyes began to creak closed as a thought spoke up in the back of her head that she needed to clock out, but Paige’s exhausted body refused to move from this space of comfort.

...Somebody else can handle that, she thought to herself, and she fell asleep.

-💓 -

Ian was still working in the basement when the Intern found him. He made a vague noise of acknowledgment and continued to work as the Intern walked into the basement, careful climbing down the stairs.

The noise of the computer fans whirring and the rapid tapping away of the keyboard nearly distracted the Intern from the growing mess that was accumulating around their coworker’s space. They tilted their monitor head, watching as Ian threw back another energy drink and set the empty can on the edge of his desk.

It only took a few seconds before the emptied can clattered to the floor as Ian wiped the sweat off his brow, leaning into the computer screen a bit more as he continued to type away.

Wordlessly, the Intern reached into the mini fridge in the basement and pulled out a cold water bottle to set it on the doctor’s desk, closer to the center so it wouldn’t fall. As if the spell he was under broke, Ian blinked and looked up at them.

“O-oh. Thanks, Intern. I’ll be done in a bit, I just- Edega asked me to do more modifications,” he mumbled, taking his glasses off for a moment to wipe them. “’m almost done. Just need to do final bug tests.”

The Intern frowned internally, finally seeing the heavy bags under Ian’s eyes. They nudged the water bottle closer, then tapped on the desk.

-.-- --- ..- / -. . . -.. / - --- / .... -.-- -.. .-. .- - . --..-- / .. .- -. .-.-.-

« You need to hydrate, Ian. »

Ian’s face scrunched slightly as he listened, and he put his glasses back on with a grimace. “You’re starting to sound like Ada. But yeah, I’ll drink it. I swear.”

The Intern stood for a second, crossing their arms as they tilted their monitor head in a way that they hoped looked like they were raising their eyebrows, and Ian reluctantly reached for the water bottle and unscrewed it. At that, they clapped their hands together in happiness and left Ian alone, searching for a plastic bag in the basement.

He could keep working if he really wished to, but the Intern really wanted to make sure that he was at least doing it in a clean environment. The least they could do while Ian kept hacking away at the rhythm defibrillator was to clean the basement up a touch while he kept working.

Sure enough, the clatter of keyboard typing resumed when the Intern found a vacant bag. They made a silent chuckle to themself and began to scoop up the discarded cans and empty snack bags littered around Ian’s desk.

In the short time they have known Ian and Ada, the Intern found rather quickly that both of them were prone to overworking. They initially had thought that they needed help with their respective jobs, but realized that they had their own systems and everything. In the end, they were the doctors and the Intern was just, well, an intern. It wasn’t that their coworkers had a workaholic mindset, but rather that they were stretched rather thin across the entire hospital and now had even more responsibility than they knew what to do with.

They gently nudged Ian’s seat with a hand, and Ian rolled slightly in the direction the Intern pushed without any comment as he continued to work. This little song and dance they played once the curtain closed on the patient work for the day was beginning to become routine for the both of them, and the Intern was grateful that Ian accepted their help. He had initially been hesitant, and stuttered about how he should clean up the mess that tended to accumulate after he had been coding for a while, but the Intern kept insisting.

Eventually Ian just let them do as they wished. The Intern didn’t bother making it into a whole thing that needed to be paid back. They knew that Ian’s job was especially brutal, having to cater to Doctor Edega’s newest demands. Ada also had to plan out patient care protocol individualized for every new patient they received, and usually greeted every single one personally. The Intern, meanwhile, technically sat in a chair at a desk at home all day, and didn’t really work hard physically while Ada and Ian ran around the hospital. Helping the doctors out in little ways like this made it feel more like they were pulling their weight outside of the Rhythm Doctor program.

Eventually the last crinkled up bag of snack chips was plucked off the floor and put with the rest, and the Intern patted the armrest of the chair twice. Ian rolled back to where he was wordlessly, typing with one hand for a moment to take another sip of water.

.. ... / - .... . / - .-. .- ... .... / ..-. ..- .-.. .-.. ..--..

« Is the trash full? » the Intern tapped on the desk.

“Huh?” Ian mumbled in response, his one-handed typing slowing for a second. “Oh. Yeah, I think it is.”

The Intern nodded, and reached to pull it out from under the desk. Ian made a quiet chuckle in response, and screwed the water bottle closed again as he stretched his hands. “Almost done. I’ll come with you to help Ada out once I’m wrapped up here.”

The overflowing trash bin was emptied in one fell swoop as the Intern pulled the bag out, reaching for one of the desk’s drawers to grab a fresh one. Ian met them halfway with the box of lemon scented trash bags, one poking out for them to take hold of.

“It’s really messed up that…” Ian trailed off, glancing at the stairway for a moment, as if to check for Doctor Edega. Finding nothing but the first plastic bag of cans and snack bags, he continued. “It’s messed up that we have to keep rewriting the whole formula for these rhythm treatments. Like, this system, it’s supposed to be streamlined so it does one thing and does it right.”

The Intern nodded, tying off the full trash bag as they dumped what didn’t fit into the fresh bag that waited to be secured in the bin.

. -.. . --. .- / .... .- ... / - --- / -.-. .... .. .-.. .-.. .-.-.-

« Edega has to chill, » they drummed out against the metal of the trash bin.

“Yeah, no kidding,” Ian sighed, leaning back in his creaky office chair. “I just- gah. I don’t know. There’s a lot of work that needs to be done, and…”

And Ian was shy, and wasn’t quite as receptive to interacting with patients, the Intern thought. Ada’s perfect in a social situation and with her empathy, but she’s not very versed in the code stuff.

In that way, they were a perfect team. One had strengths to pick up where the other lacked. The problem was that they were left to do it alone, minus the Janitor, the Nurse, and themself. It wasn’t sustainable in the slightest.

If one were to fall ill, the other would have to try to pick up the slack, and the other day where the Intern had treated Paige to keep her heart steady throughout the shift was proof of that. Ian hasn’t gotten to the point where he needed to be treated yet, but the Intern already knew it was bound to happen eventually. The poor guy’s been working himself to death as is, and now Doctor Edega and the Connectifia Abortus were involved, which just made it worse.

And now he was pulling what the Intern presumed are all-nighters in order to get everything done.

The Intern’s shoulders slumped as they breathed out a silent sigh, then rose to their feet. Ian seemed to understand, and saved everything he was working on before following suit, taking the water bottle with him.

.. .----. -- / .-- --- .-. .-. .. . -.. / .- -... --- ..- - / .- -.. .-

« I’m worried about Ada, » they tapped with their free hand onto their metallic chest, the other hand tight around the bulky trash bag.

“Me too,” Ian murmured. “She’s been working hard.”

-.-- --- ..- / .... .- ...- . / -... . . -. / - --- --- .-.-.- / .. .----. -- / .-- --- .-. .-. .. . -.. / .- -... --- ..- - / -... --- - .... / --- ..-. / -.-- --- ..- .-.-.-

« You have been too. I’m worried about both of you. »

Ian quieted down at that, trying not to make eye contact with the monitor. He scooped up the other bag before the Intern could, and nudged the door open with his foot. “I- We, well… We’ve all got jobs to do, you know?”

The Intern angled their monitor at him again, a hand on their hip, as if to say ‘really?’.

Ian put his hands up in protest. “I’m just saying! Yeah, it sucks we have to do it pretty much on our own, but it’s what we have to do! I don’t- We don’t really have much of a choice now.”

The Intern shook their head in response, but climbed the stairs after Ian. They still didn’t like that the pressure was put on them, but knew it wasn’t that easy to fix. To really help Ada and Ian, there needed to be more staff, and for there to be more staff, they had to hire, and to even think of hiring, they would have to somehow convince Edega, who already decided that the staff were on their own.

There was always the possibility that he could hire more interns, but then those interns would be worked to the bone, and so on. The cycle would just continue.

They tried not to look like they were moping as they followed Ian out to the first floor’s hallway, bag of trash in hand. The two of them made their way to the dumpster in the back alley behind the hospital, waving to the Janitor as they passed him. He nodded in response, continuing to mop the hospital’s lobby without another word.

Ian sighed as he breathed in the alley’s outside air, then sneezed into his lab coat’s sleeve. “Eugh. Allergies,” he mumbled, scratching his chin as he dragged the trash he had to the dumpster’s closed lid. He opened it with one hand, quickly tossing it in.

The Intern followed suit after signing a quick « bless you, » helping Ian close the lid securely after. They watched as Ian slowly stretched since they were already outside, the doctor groaning to himself as his bones popped.

Poor guy.

Eventually Ian wrapped up and nodded at them that he was ready to move onto the next step of their new routine. Now that Ian’s workspace had been cleaned up and he had taken some time to stretch, it was time to check on Paige and make sure she ate something.

The Intern let Ian lead the way back inside, the both of them getting a bit of hand sanitizer from a dispenser they had set up ahead of time for convenience’s sake. The two of them walked up to Paige’s office, giving the door a knock before making their way inside.

The fireplace crackled away, bathing the room in a cozy warm glow. Ada sat in the armchair, fast asleep with her glasses dangerously close to slipping out of her limp hands. Ian chuckled to himself, shaking his head in an almost affectionate disbelief. “This is the third time this week.”

Ian crossed the distance from the hall and pulled Ada’s glasses out of her hands, careful not to catch her fingers on them. The Intern opened a wide drawer from the cabinet and unfolded a thick woven blanket. They turned to face Ada, tilting their head for a moment as they tried to gauge the best course of action.

.. ... / - .... .- - / .- / .-. . -.-. .-.. .. -. . .-. ..--.. / .. / ..-. --- .-. --. --- - / .-- .... .- - / -.- .. -. -.. / --- ..-. / -.-. .... .- .. .-. / .. - / .. ...

« ...Is that a recliner? I forgot what kind of chair it is, » the Intern admitted, tapping away at their arm as they folded the blanket back in half. Ian set Ada’s glasses safely on her desk. They circled Ada to search for a recliner handle, but found none.

“I don’t think it’s a recliner. You sure we shouldn’t wake her? I doubt she’s eaten anything,” Ian whispered as he went to empty Ada’s trash can for her.

The Intern paused for a moment, before signing something in a manner that was small and close to their chest, as if they were whispering.

“Oh. You sure?”

They nodded.

“Well, I’m sure we can find something close by. Oh, and I found this,” Ian said, pointing to a neck pillow on Ada’s desk. “Might be useful.”

The Intern signed in thanks, spreading the blanket across Ada’s lap before holding their metal hands close to the fireplace. Don’t want to startle her with cold hands, after all… After a brief moment, they gently adjusted Ada’s head to prevent her from slouching over in a painful manner and put the pillow around her neck.

The sleeping doctor made a quiet mumble, leaning into the comfort of the neck pillow. The sight warmed the Intern’s heart.

They could hear Ian step out to get rid of the trash, so for the time being they sat crisscross on the carpeted floor of Paige’s office and listened to the crackle of the fire. They were going over recipes in their head while they waited for Ian to return, trying to think of anything they could make in the microwave for today. There was a fair amount of versatility so long as you had a microwave safe cup, honestly, but part of them wanted to just make something themself with a stove.

Paige mumbled in her sleep, shifting slightly as she almost burrowed herself further into the armchair. The Intern scooted a little closer to adjust the blanket, this time pulling it up to her shoulders and tucking her in. Ada seemed to settle at that, her expression becoming more relaxed as she slept.

Phew. Don’t want her to wake up yet if we can help it.

They stood up and searched for some blank paper, plucking a page from Ada’s printer before scribbling a big “DO NOT DISTURB” on it, then a smaller “doctor Paige is sleeping (signed the intern)” beneath. The only person the Intern could think of that would ignore the sign would be Doctor Edega, but as far as they could tell he had all but packed up and left by now. Regardless, it shouldn’t be a problem. The Intern pulled a piece of tape from Ada’s desk, making a mental note to get her more, and then stuck the paper sign on the outside of her office door.

Now was their chance! The Intern waved to the Janitor to get his attention, and pointed with their thumb to the sign. The man nodded, continuing to mop the hospital lobby. He would keep watch over her office while they stepped out. Now they just needed to be quick.

“You sure she won’t try to kill you for this? You know she doesn’t like to make a whole scene,” Ian said as he finally reunited with them, strolling back to the hallway with a thoughtful look on his face. “Like, I’m sure she’s gonna appreciate it, but-”

« I can handle it if she’s mad, » the Intern signed in response, their posture relaxed. They wished there was an easier way for them to emote to the people at Middlesea Hospital, but their posture would have to do for now. « I’ll be fine! »

“If you say so,” Ian huffed. He peeled his labcoat off and set it behind the vacant information table, reaching for a sweater. “You ready?”

The Intern nodded, pumping their fist once. They marched off towards the hospital’s entrance and set off on their quest.

-💓 -

When Ada woke, she found herself comfortable. What was I doing again..?

She heard a quiet snore from the room. She shifted slightly, realizing her neck pillow had been put on and a thick woven blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

Huh? ... Oh.

Pffft.

Paige already had a feeling who the culprits were, and sure enough, one of them had his head resting on the side of her armchair. Ian sat slumped against the furniture, his lower half covered with a blanket. She could barely spot that Ian had a pillow under his head, though it was poorly angled. Ada snorted quietly to herself, sitting up to adjust his blanket.

She looked around her office, and caught sight of the Intern’s robotic chassis charging in the corner, the monitor on a screensaver that popped the logo of the hospital around the screen. They had a folded paper in their lap, as if they knew she would check on them once she woke.

Hah. Worrywart, Ada thought to herself as she got up to read the note, keeping the blanket curled around her shoulders. Though, I guess I’m one to talk. Glass houses and all that.

She unfurled the paper and read through the Intern’s scribbled handwriting, though she was in half a mind to see if the logo on their screensaver would hit the corner.

“Hi Ada, I know you’ve had a real rough one lately, so I got you something. It’s in the break room fridge. You don’t need to pay me back or anything. I just wanted to help you out. I’ll be back in fifteen if I don’t fall asleep, so I’ll be able to help you carry what I got you home. - Intern”

“Hmm.” Paige squinted at the words for a moment. What would they even need to help her carry?

Oh.

Suddenly Ada remembered the day the Intern had operated on her to keep her heart rate stable. She had mentioned eating dinner from a vending machine again. Did they-

She started walking suddenly, rushing towards the break room. It was something small and relatively insignificant, but Middlesea Hospital staff had their lunches stored away in the fridge. At this late hour, it would usually be empty. Usually.

Paige opened the fridge, trying not to immediately shut her eyes at the fluorescent lights.

Ah crap. I knew it.

Several plastic bags from a corner store filled two drawers of the refrigerator. Paige could spot cartons of milk, fresh fruits and vegetables, and other sorts of perishables she didn’t have at home currently. She just didn’t have the chance to.

A feeling overcame her then, as she squatted and sifted through the bags’ contents, finding items that clearly were a collaboration between Ian and the Intern. She knew she should probably be upset, upset that they went through all this effort for little ol’ Paige, the doctor that wasn’t very helpful in the Rhythm Doctor program, but…

But I feel… happy. Loved. Wanted.

Ada chuckled to herself as she found some snack bags Ian clearly packed, making a mental note to share them with him later. The both of her coworkers were present in every bag, the contents almost a snapshot of who they were. The Intern had packed various different perishables that they likely knew she didn’t have but enjoyed, like the different kinds of fresh fruits she found. Ian most certainly packed all of the more convenient items, like cups of noodles she could add hot water to, and containers of spices to mix into steamed rice. She took a moment to just sort through it all, feeling tears stream down her face and splatter onto her glasses.

Oh- oh, come on, Ada, get it together-

“Ah. Didn’t see anything,” a voice from behind her muttered. Ada whirled around to spot the Janitor awkwardly whistling to himself as he reached for the coffee machine next to the fridge. “I did tell them not to do this without making sure it was fine with you first. But that little friend of yours, they’re persistent, I tell ya.”

She rubbed at her eyes with her labcoat’s sleeve, trying to wipe them clean before she embarrassed herself further. “I-it’s not about the groceries. It’s just, they-”

“Worry too much about you?” The Janitor asked with an eyebrow raised. He detached his mask to take a sip of bitter instant coffee, and sighed deeply. “Sorry to break it to you, Doc, but everyone’s worried about the three of you. Especially for you.”

“Why, because they think I can’t do it on my own..?”

“Because the three of you ARE doing this on your own,” the Janitor drawled out, leaning on the counter. “Yeah, the Nurse and I help out where we can, but we’re not doctors. You know that, right?”

Ada paused, her gaze drifting back down to the bags of food.

“The three of you are working yourselves to death. You already look dead on your feet as is, though you seem a bit better after some sleep. My point being: just… try to take care of yourself, Doc. We only got one Doctor Ada Paige, after all.”

Ada’s lip quivered, but she nodded. The Janitor gave her a gentle pat on the shoulder, and took his coffee with him as he headed back to work. Paige sat there for a moment, letting herself cry in a mix of joy and frustration.

Eventually she stood up again, plucking an apple from a bag before shutting the fridge again. Ada stepped to the sink to rinse off any dirt off the fruit, and, before she had second thoughts, bit into the ripe flesh.

God, I fucking missed fruit. I should’ve asked them to help me sooner.

She could feel the tears starting up again and removed her glasses, laughing quietly to herself. It was a stressful day, and she hadn’t gotten anything substantial to eat, and she had Edega constantly breathing down her back and making her feel like she wasn’t of enough use to the hospital, and-

And now she had this. A gift from her coworkers. No, her friends. Her heart felt like it was swelling as Ada continued to eat her apple, feeling an immense relief in the taste.

It tasted like home. A home she hadn’t been able to get to and properly rest in for however long she had been working now, but it was still home.

.-- .- ... / .. - / - --- --- / -- ..- -.-. .... ..--.. / .. .----. -- / ... --- .-. .-. -.-- -.-.--

« Was it too much? I’m sorry! »

Paige yelped, nearly choking on the chunk of apple still in her mouth. The Intern stood in the hallway with a panicked posture, Ian’s sleepy face peeking in behind them.

“I told you, I wasn’t sure she was going to like it,” Ian mumbled, an apologetic look on her face. “Ada, I-” The Intern flailed, as if they were trying to express something in sign language but couldn’t decide on what words to use.

“You two,” Ada drew out, and both of them froze in their tracks. “You two are the fucking sweetest, and I’m hugging you to death.”

“It was their idea I told them it wasn’t- huh?” « I’m so sorry I’ll never do it aga- wuh »

Paige almost sprinted across the break room, pulling the two of them close. Ian yelped, but quickly hugged her back. “I’m so glad- thank you. Both of you. Thanks for this.”

The Intern sort of rested their head on top of Paige’s, wrapping their arms around her and Ian as they did so. She could tell they wanted to say something, but just settled for the silence for now.

Ada breathed out shakily, trying to avoid crying even more than she already had. “Anyway… You got me these, so it’s time for me to pay you back. You’re both coming over for dinner,” she said, putting her hands on her hips.

« But- » the Intern began to sign, before Ada put a finger up.

“AND I am getting some of it over to you at home. So no complaining! I’m cooking for the both of you,” Ada said, smiling as she wiped her face again. “So, let’s get hauling. I think I want to make some sort of fruit tart for dessert. Or maybe apple pie.”

Ian laughed, patting the Intern on the back. “You’re lucky it’s not cake. A while back, Ada tried to make a cake for Samurai, and well-”

“Thanks Ian that’s enough if you want to have any pasta,” Paige ground out with a deadly grin. She reached into the fridge and scooped up two of the bags. “Well, I mean, if it was you that packed that bottled pasta sauce. I figured you would want some.”

Ian’s sheepish expression confirmed it, and he took two bags with no further quips. He seemed happy, though, and Ada laughed. The Intern’s posture relaxed, and they signed with a sweeping excitement to their words before picking the rest of the bags up.

The three of them eventually went into the hallway and started to head out. She could spot Nicole watching her as they left with a raised eyebrow, but a thumbs up. Paige tried not to blush as they headed in the direction of the train station, trying to keep her thoughts off of work.

They would all have an even more torturous day ahead of them tomorrow – especially if Edega knew they had collaborated like this to help Paige out. Despite all of it, though, she felt… somewhat excited. She wasn’t going to face any of it alone.

Yeah. I’ll be… where my home is, Ada thought, watching her coworkers settle next to her on the bench as they waited for her train.

I’ll be with them.

#my writing #rhythm doctor #fluff #polyrhythmcule #ada paige #the intern #ian rhythm doctor

[hekateinhell]

sending this well after you've probably gone to bed HOWEVER i am always ready to report for louis/armand/lestat duty so HERE GOES:

Every time they get in a petty fight, someone rearranges the vinyl collection at Trinity Gate. Louis organizes alphabetically by artist, Armand organizes by genre, and Lestat organizes chronologically. The music room is a goddamn war zone.

When Lestat is an Extra Extra Good Boy (or just in need of some tlc in general) Louis and Armand make the best mani-pedi team. Louis takes a foot and Armand takes a hand, then they switch for the opposite side. 

Somehow Armand gets ahold of the tattered old TVL band shirt that Louis used to sleep in. He lounges around the house in it and has both Lestat and Louis drooling in SECONDS (bonus smut points if Louis and Lestat both take turns fucking him in it)

Also this is just Louis/Armand but listen i've been thinking a lot lately of how strong Armand is!!! Like I know the fun thing about his character is that he's got the craziest mental tenacity for someone trapped in a small/young body, but I do think people sleep on how physically strong he is as well. Anyway, all I'm saying is: I want to see him hoist Louis up against a wall and fuck him <3 I want Louis to get overpowered and dicked down by someone half a foot shorter than him LOL it would be good for him!!!!!!

ASHLEYYYYY OH MY GOD I LOVE ALL THESE SO MUCH YOU ALWAYS HIT ME WHERE I LIVE!!! 😭😭😭

i love thinking about what their domestic life would look like LMAO canon or human AU because all three of them complement and contrast each other so fucking well, i'm all over that all day every day!!!! asksfkdsgj rip the music room 💀 i hope to god nobody gets petty enough to fuck with the library and louis's meticulously thought out system of displaying his books that only he knows (lestat gets petty enough, armand knows better -- tbh idk if he actually ever gets mad at louis? as easily as lestat sets him off, louis has the opposite effect. but for argument's sake, i think if louis did piss armand off, armand would react by pretending he's fine but he would immediately start being infantilizing and weird. really, really emphasizing the "sweet, dusty louis" every other sentence like he's marius talking to a wain victorian orphan).

NO BUT THIS IS SO SWEET!!! not to get too serious but for canon fic i think about court era!lestat a lot and like how he comes right out and says to marius "you don't want a prince in me, you want a figurehead, you would be the ruler here" and really just all the times he sounds so Tired & Done™️ in general with everything. lestat getting some TLC from his consort and madame de pompadour on the regular is harm reduction at its finest lbr. i wanna see armand and louis giving him a perfumed bath a la QotD but without the trauma (and like in Air Catcher too now that i've triggered the memory, i love your brain so much DO YOU KNOW HOW OFTEN I REREAD THAT FIC 🥹)

OH MY GOD STOP PLEASE!!! i wanna know like was armand intentional about wearing louis's lestat shirt? in his mind, is this The Next Logical Step in their threesome relationship? was he expecting a reaction or was he just looking to self-soothe and instead of going for one of louis's baggy sweaters that would hit the thigh on armand, he just grabbed the shirt? regardless, i hope they dped him 🫶🏼 (i totally need this to happen both in canon verse and in teen au future verse)

NO ASHLEY YOU DON'T UNDERSTAND LMAO NOBODY KNOWS BECAUSE I HAVE TOO MUCH GOING ON TO ACTUALLY WRITE BUT THE SMUT MACHINE NEVER STOPS AND LATELY I JUST WANT ARMAND TO TOP EVERYONE!!!! i wanna see the short king bend back those long legs and go to town on these catholic boys! 🤧 armand is the ultimate switch and he is, in his own words, NOT A WAIF. he can lift that bag of bones easily!!! ❤️ and i remember we talked about like top/bottom dynamics with lestat and louis--either physically or just energy wise--and how it would probably take a considerable amount of time and effort for louis to heal enough to relinquish that control to lestat again following the RR years and all that went down... i'm thinking like if i wanted squish armand in there and I DO, it would be a good step in that direction for louis to practice being open (get it? i'll see myself out) with armand first (literally expanding on PL canon here just adding the sex LMAO). tl;dr: it would be good for both of them if armand fucked that sad, wet man (as a treat) ALSO ALSO SEE MY FAVE "ARMAND FUCKS LOUIS" FICLET THAT IS WAY TOO FUCKING SHORT

#my answers are very stream of consciousness these days i can't be bothered but also- #I HAD SO MANY INCOHERENT THOUGHTS I'M SORRY ILY THANK YOU <3 #armand/lestat/louis #armand/louis #vc #you ask and hekate answers

[i23kazu]

valorant found family brainrot below: disclaimer: these are all my personal hcs. if you disagree, please just move on :^) they may be very ooc also im very new to valorant so some things i say may or may not be canon. pls dont hate huhu

ok i intentionally made the young adults abit more kidlike FOR A REASON bc they make my brain go weewoo in a very very good way.

firstly – roles!

• dads of the year go to cypher and brimstone. cypher can be a gentle dad and he's usually the comfort / gentle dad that the younger agents like. brimstone tends to more of the discipline / also comfort side of being a parent, but its safe to say that both dads can switch roles easily. the agents love them :) (also the voiceline from the killjoy-cypher interaction talking about the dark web makes my brain go to mush.)

• moms of the year goes to (obviously) sage! and more distantly viper and reyna. i love the idea of the other two being more mentor-like towards some of the agents – like viper to raze and reyna to jett and killjoy. i read about it somewhere and i'm not sure whether it's canon but its defo fanon in my mind. sage is #1 mommy (heh. sagemommy69) and she's genuinely so gentle and loving its unreal. it hits harder for jett because of the whole omega-alpha counterpart venice confusion thing that left her and her bio mom's relationship cut off.

• uncles include breach, omen, chamber, kay/o, harbour. the tough love uncles: breach, chamber, sometimes omen. i can see kay/o and harbour being uncles that offer a bit more TLC when people need it though. i like to think that killjoy and chamber have a somewhat okay relationship because of them being brainiacs <3 again im not too sure what's canon and what's not but this just made sense in my head

• aunts include fade, astra and skye! i was debating on whether or not i should put skye as one of the moms but she defo gave me more of a big sister/aunt vibe so she's here. fade is one of the agents that the younger agents can talk to about their problems – she's more down to earth than anyone else and can often get phoenix and jett out of their heads. astra has a super comforting vibe but i love the hc that she can do really good girl talks with the female agents. and skye is just comfort. she lets neon and jett play with her wolves :D

• second to last; sova gets his own category because i wasn't sure where to put him – as a kid or an uncle? but i realised there was a middle ground hehe. therefore, i give him the burden of being the oldest sibling – the innate nature to protect and care, but also the longing to be cared for the way he does for others. all the younger agents regularly go to him for advice because of his calm, cool and collected nature! he also just generally gives good advice while instilling confidence in his younger siblings teammates.

• lastly, the kids <3 phoenix, yoru, jett, raze, killjoy, neon! i loveloveLOOOOVE the idea of the five being siblings since they're all relatively close in age – yoru albeit reluctantly, i think. phoenix and jett get along so well ; a bit too well, the older ones think. they're often up to pranks around headquarters and regularly get raze onboard, and neon likes to tag along with her squish-squish attached to her hip. yoru begrudgingly takes care of the younger ones like killjoy and neon, although killjoy protests that she doesn't need his protection. (yoru does it out of his respect for reyna.)

secondly – more headcanons!

cypher knows how to do the girls' hair because of his daughter.

brimstone has a soft spot for the younger female agents (/p) and often lets them out of training early, much to phoenix's disdain.

sova gives HELLLAAAA good advice!!! plus he's literally free-flow confidence. he oozes confidence to his teammates.

cypher can cook really well and often makes dinner.

astra loves sitting down with her girls and talking them through whatever problems they have.

secretly, yoru goes to reyna to talk to her (get comfort) when he wants to (when he desperately needs validation from a parental figure)

harbour and breach both train the younger team!

when missions go well, brimstone and sage treat the whole team to a good meal.

when neon gets nightmares, the #1 person she goes to for comfort is cypher!

yoru also likes to hang out with omen because #emobois support group is definitely a thing

sage tries to get jett and raze to read more as a pastime but that usually fails. because the both of them cannot sit still for the life of them

skye and sage try to get everyone to sit down and have a meal together every week bc team bonding! but ofc that doesnt always happen bc of how tired the agents are from their missions.

sometimes neon feels left out bc of how young she is compared to the rest of the agents — even the younger group :,) ♡

the team likes sharing songs from their native languages!!!

also hc that cypher knows how to speak multiple languages and once he heard neon listening to pano by ZT and he just went “sweetheart who hurt you”

and neon is just shocked bc tf???? dad knows how to speak my language??? yes he does hes a cool dad

sova sometimes gets torn between the whole needing to protect and wanting to protected and the parents definitely give him the option sometimes when he looks so burnt out

sage loves talking with him because of how reliable and collected he is and she loves to give him advice when he needs/wants it! (ofc, he defo asks for it)

cypher uses a lot of petnames!! sweetheart, darling, dear, etc <333

brimstone’s knows all of the agents favourite foods and he tries to cater to everyone’s likes for dinner at least once a month bc the smiles on their faces are #worthit #loreal #becauseyou’reworthit

honest chamber is just there and viper just. does not vibe with him. she tries to leave the room when he enters but i love the hc that once he tried to kabedon her to stop her from leaving but she flipped him around and kabedon-ed him instead. then left like the girlboss she is

skye takes over the medbay healing when sage needs a rest!!!

also i think sage and omen’s relationship is slowly getting better but i like the idea of them being able to communicate without talking. just body language — nodding heads, eye contact, head pointing, etc

reyna trains the agents very hard but she also gives good breaks!!

once she tried to squeeze neon’s shoulders because the girl was clenching and neon yelped. turns out she’s not a massage person yoru is though and he goes to her when hes alone (/p)

game nights!!! phoenix beats everyone and got cocky until he played with omen and omen TRASHED him. so bad to the point where yoru started patting phoenix’s back out of sympathy

riot please just give yoru a good support system he needs to work out his anger issues and aggressiveness

brimstone and kay/o can often be seen hanging out together i like that

kay/o tried knitting once and hes not bad at it! just that it was too tedious and now he has a half done scarf in his room.

raze and cypher like to bake together :) <3 (theres a fanfic about this on ao3 but i cant rmb the name)

harbour is the second agent the younger ones go to for advice, next to sova!

also movie nights. when they watch horror movies, fade can be seen putting a palm on whoever’s knee to comfort them a little bit :,) its her own way of loving others

ok this is getting very long i’ll make a part 2

#[📝 stewardess' notepad!] #valorant #valorant headcanons #valorant found family #valorant fanfiction #parental sage #parental brimstone #parental cypher #long post

[twistifiedz]

"Like the things that once filled our world with beauty, the dreams we had for the future died."

TW1ST: 180° is the second extended play by South Korean girl group, TWIST. The album was released on May 5, 2017, through JYL Records. Consisting of nine songs, including the three singles, “Come Back Home”, “Triangle”, and “Overdose”. Musically, the album spans between R&B, hip hop, EDM, metal, and dance-pop. The group earned the title ‘self-produce’ group as all members have taken the lead in the album production. “Come Back Home” was written and composed by Chaeyoung and Hyerim, whereas “Overdose” was composed by Sohye and written by Hyerim. “Triangle” is the first track that contains credits from all the members, in which the live arrangement consisting of an electric guitar and violins were composed by Sohye and Chaeyoung, while the lyrics were written by Mina and Hyerim.

As a sequel to their first eponymous extended play, TW1ST, 180° was a commercial success. The album debuted atop the Gaon Albums Chart, with over 400,000 copies sold in the first week, with Twist breaking their own record for having the highest girl group first week album sales, which was previously held by the predecessor album known as TW1ST. By the end of 2017, 180° had sold over 700,000 copies, making Twist hold the top two selling girl group albums of the year.

The lead single, “Come Back Home”, debuted atop the Gaon Digital Chart with other 567,888 digital units sold in the first week of release. The song remained atop the chart for four consecutive weeks. The second single, “Overdose”, debuted at number two on the Gaon Digital Chart with 309,362 digital units sold. In the first week of June 2017, “Overdose” rose to the summit of the chart with a huge increase in sales after the group held a one-time performance at the Apollo Theater in New York City, leading the performance to gain popularity. “Overdose” topped the Gaon Digital Chart for seven consecutive weeks. Due to the sudden traction from the viral performance, “Overdose” peaked at number 10 on the US Billboard Bubbling Under Hot 100. The third single, “Triangle” peaked at number 80 on the Billboard Hot 100 for the week of September 3, 2017.

For the album’s release, a special “TWIST Comeback Show”, hosted by a collaboration of Mnet and MTV, was broadcast live worldwide on May 6, 2017. The show consisted of performances from the following albums: TW1ST and 180°. 

Promotions for the album focused primarily on South Korea and the United States. Twist were apart of the following lineups:

Dream Concert

SBS Super Concert

Incheon Korean Music Wave

American Music Awards

KCON NY

TRACKLIST:

Crush

Like It

Bye Bye

Triangle

Come Back Home

Overdose

Illusion

Mala

Black Widow

ERA HIGHLIGHTS:

It was difficult to follow up to the release of TW1ST, the general public counted them out, but Twist came back FIGHTING! 

Come Back Home topped all the real time charts, earning 50 perfect-all-kills.

Overdose was the REAL hit of the album! It became bigger than Come Back Home and earned 73 perfect-all-kills.

Overdose debuted in the Bubbling Under on Billboard at number 10! 

Sohye had a vengeance. After a winter of taking violin, guitar, and writing lessons, she composed Overdose as her first project. She then enlisted Hyerim to help her with the lyrical material of the song. 2HYE lives on!

Mina joined the cast of Hello Counselor, to give advice to individuals!

As a gift for such a successful first half of 2017, Twist went on vacation to Malaysia!

To get to know the members more, Chaeyoung began her own radio show; Chae’s Clubhouse, where the Twist members and other idols are interviewed every week.

Performance Highlights (Iconic Moments / Popular Performances):

On 050417, the official comeback stages for Come Back Home and Overdose took place at Mnet Countdown. The stage for Come Back Home was rather futuristic, inspired by The Matrix and TLC’s ‘No Scrubs’. Each member had a white monochrome and colorful latex outfit suited for them, as they would dance in unison. The Overdose set in comparison was rather dark, sleek, and simplistic with white greek statues surrounding the girls. The beginning of the performances shows 20 backup dancers in the form of a choir as they surround Twist. Chaeyoung and Hyerim are directing the orchestra before the song begins.

On 050717 at SBS Inkigayo, Twist descended onto the stage from the ceiling via a small shaft and broke the glass wall that is used as an entrance to their performance of Overdose. Notable moments include Sohye opening up the performance with an electric guitar solo which transitions into Hyerim’s opening verse, Chaeyoung and Hyerim’s duo rap at the bridge, and Mina’s high note before the bridge.

At The 2017 Mnet Asian Music Awards, Twist performed a symphony orchestra version of Overdose, which included 100 members and backup dancers on stage performing various string instruments of the melody. At the opening of the symphony orchestra segment, Mina has an operatic vocal solo stage and is followed by Sohye’s electric guitar solo segment. The girls are seen rising onto the stage in a ring of blue fire, which intensifies with every movement of the symphony behind them. Notable moments include a dance break before the bridge, Chaeyoung and Hyerim’s duo rap, Hyerim’s signature hand movement that commands the audience from each direction to sing or scream louder, and a solo Hyerim dance stage. The performance received critical acclaim and is listed as one of the most iconic MAMA stages.

At The 2017 Melon Music Awards, Twist performed a rock version of Triangle with an orchestra live band to enhance the live instrumental of the song. The girls are seen descending onto the stage as angels with fluffy white wings in a ring of pure white light (in contrast to the ring of blue fire they stood in at MAMA for Overdose). Notable moments include Sohye’s violin solo, Hyerim’s runway walk before her bridge (insp @ 3:01 here), Chaeyoung’s screamo rap, Hyerim’s high note at the end (4:30 here), and Mina leading a metal-insp dance break.

#ficnetfairy #❝𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 ! 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭.❞ #❝𝐥𝐞𝐭'𝐬 𝐠𝐞𝐭 𝐭𝐰𝐢𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 ! 𝐝𝐢𝐬𝐜.❞ #fictional idol oc #kpop oc #oc kpop #oc kpop gg #fake kpop idol #oc kpop group #fictional idol community #fictional kpop community #oc kpop idol

[things-about-cars-in-posts]

What would you consider the best, most reliable, low maintenance car? Bonus points for affordability. After having to take my 2011 Corsa to the garage for the fourth time this year due to a faulty temp sensor (this car just runs on a constant fever I swear. I'm in the UK for goodness sakes it shouldn't get that hot!!!), I'm curious as to whether there are any cars that don't have expiry dates outside of carefully maintained classics.

Well someone's not read my shooting brake post that thoroughly eh! :P

Jokes aside, I've touched on reliability a couple of times so those could be interesting reads for you, but I can tell you that, you'll hear it a lot, Toyota Land Cruisers are usually what you see when a dozen people need to cross a desert and camels aren't an option. And I cannot talk about the durability of old Toyotas without bringing up a piece of television that has been burned into my mind from when I was six or seven to this day and has never faded or faltered in clarity for a single of the seconds between them. Like, genuinely, you go pay me a visit eight years since I last saw it to hit me with a trick question about shot composition details and as you open the door shouting it you walk in on me losing my virginity and I shoo you away yelling "Piss off with your trick questions, I'm getting laid here".

But in terms of advice that is more actionable for you, I would as noted in other posts advise Toyotas and Hondas, and by extension Toyota's luxury brand Lexus (but please don't consider this advice against anything else, especially because these brands, Toyota and Lexus especially, have in some contexts developed a bit of a premium due to their reputation). And I know what you're thinking: "Mate I've a Corsa ya think I could get me a Lexus?" And the answer is yes. And other positively splendid pieces of kit.

I mean, you can find yourself plenty of first generation Lexus LSs in various states of rattiness, and one of those most famously did literally a million miles so I'm pretty sure you're going to be good on that front.

...but if you're not in the extremely lucky position of ULEZ compliance not being a dealbreaker, while looking for those, I also found some second generations...

...and I saw an ad for a third generation, and you know when you see an item and a price and you go through the description just to find out what the deal is and as you comb through you slowly realize that the part where they explain how this is not actually a functioning, usable product isn't there you start whispering "what the fuck? what the fuck?" and you put your hands in your hair and- yeah this is that level. Like genuinely I do not CARE if you were not asking purchasing advice and are not interested in changing your car you go phone your insurance for a quote and if it is anything below "This insurance price will actually ruin my life" you go click on that "Buy it now" button before someone else does.

But of course you may want a smaller car, what with coming from a Corsa and all that. Well, if that's the case, there's a little beauty that you're going to love love, and needs no TLC you and my help can't tackle. Remember my kei sportscars post? Well guess what it just so happens to turn out:

(if you are actually interested in getting a new car but have requirements these don't fulfill don't hesitate to drop me a line, there is little I love more than window shopping car ads and I have plenty other great ideas. If you want a new car you are going to end up with something cool whether you like it or not.)

Links in blue are posts of mine explaining the words in question - if you liked this post, you might like those!

#reliability #lexus ls

[mean-scarlet-deceiver]

the way the first story in Stepney's book hypes him up? Percy and Douglas paint this picture of how terrible things are going for steamkind on the Other Railway as a prelude to this very "... but!! in our darkest hour! there is!! a BEACON of HOPE!!!" vibe. Stepney is set up as an hero; no he can't reverse what's happening but for the steam remnant he is become a symbol, a light; he's won the lottery that so many condemned engines wish for and they immediately leap to believing that Stepney deserves it; he ran away and escaped to the Bluebell Railway, and now this gallant survivor is staring down a horde of diesels all the way on his journey to Sodor just for a lark; he's brave, he's enterprising, he's hardy and will endure; he is all the best things a steam engine can be—and then the story ends with his triumphant entrance into Tidmouth station, greeted by cheers from the crowd of people who have showed up just to see him!

... and the way the second story, you turn the page and it's all... Stepney is just Some Bloke. A normal engine... and, in this story more so than all the others in this book, a little vulnerable. It's the contrast. Awdry immediately lets us look behind the camera flashes... Stepney's still processing the trauma of having waited in a cold queue to be cut into pieces... he didn't "run away" to his new railway; he literally just sat there in a siding scared out of his mind and one day he was told he'd been saved... he is glad and he loves them for it but he did die in a way, his old life is over; he's settling in with a new family but it's still a new family and ironically the more he opens up to Edward the more you notice the things he still can't talk about... he's holding up well but? like? 'don't tell our Controller—it's a secret'? and the long hesitation before he confides that he is grateful, he is, but... c'mon, it sucks how he's now confined to ten miles of track, he does miss his old work? the way he and Duck make fast friends, the way Duck looks after him and is so generous with him? (and it's like, good. this engine needs spoiling. for all he's so lucky and in some ways enviable, he still needs alllll the TLC.) and the way Thomas wants to tear Stepney a new one when he only sees and hears of him at a distance, because at a distance Stepney is again a being of glamor and fame—but actually once they're face-to-face Thomas can't stay angry at him because he, too, sees that this is just another engine—not some superman, just a fellow engine far from home and nervous and doing his best?

like—Steppers genuinely does seem to be handling everything amazingly well, he's spunky and shit, this is not to say that the book primarily comes off as angsty. but the immediate contrast between the Stepney, Fresh-Minted Celebrity Hero and Stepney, A Bit Dazed and Kinda Going Through It Right Now, is so well done.

#did awdry realize what he was doing with that glorious Act I/Act II structure? #probably not #am i gonna praise him for it anyway? #yup #Such Is the Writers' Code #the railway series #ttte stepney #stepney the “bluebell” engine #ttte analysis #ttte