#without further ado - tagging the stars:

[hopeinthebox]

bts + reductress headlines pt.13

[thatfeelinwhenyou]

KINDRED — yang jungwon

It’s your final year of highschool, and your only goal is to graduate top of your cohort, as usual. Except as student council president, your advisor can’t seem to leave you alone. What happens when you take Decelis Academy’s top student, their star taekwondo athlete and put them in front of a camera?

“Kindred” a student documentary. Pilot episode airing tonight on TVN 7PM KST.

PAIRING: athlete!jungwon x stucopres!fem!reader

FEATURING: enhypen, yunjin from lesserafim, ryujin and chaeryeong from itzy, chanelle from runext, beomgyu and taehyun from txt, wonyoung from ive, gunwook and gyuvin from zb1 etc.

GENRE: high school au, enemies to lovers, nerd x athlete, forced proximity, slice of life, coming of age, he fell first and harder, fluff, ANGST, teen drama, slow burn ish?

WARNINGS: contains profanities, horrible attempt at humour, urban lingo, probably cringy, kys/kms jokes, depression jokes, sexual innuendos (nothing too inappropriate), depiction of violence, reader can be a little bit annoying at first, family drama, incorrect timestamps/information, no fixed faceclaims, not proofread etc.

STATUS: completed! (01/09/2023 – 18/03/2024)

AUTHOR’S NOTE: please read! story concept is heavily inspired by the kdrama ‘our beloved summer’ other than that the storyline is completely original (or so i assume since i manifested this out from the crevices of my pea brain). i’ll try to keep this one to ard 30 chapters (who am i kidding). chapters with ‘(hw)’ next to them indicates that they are half-written, in case y’all skip over it! as always, the content and depiction of the characters in this smau do not in anyway represent them in real life. also i know how twitter has been rebranded to x, but we’re just gonna continue calling it twitter. lastly, if you do end up enjoying, please do like, comment (love reading your comments btw), and reblog so this can reach!! without further ado, enjoy!

TAGS: #tfwy kindred #tfwy smau

TEASER

profile. one | two | three

episode 1 - ratatouille and the underdogs

episode 2 - one way ticket to university

episode 3 - do you take constructive criticism?

episode 4 - unsolicited but appreciated

episode 5 - the art of benevolence

episode 6 - taekwondo-anti

episode 7 - beating the mentally ill allegations

episode 8 - can’t help it, i’m a libra

episode 9 - operation we-don’t-really-hate-each-other (hw)

episode 10 - she’s an oscar award winning actress

episode 11 - someone like me (hw)

episode 12 - ‘female-lead-realising-the-bad-boy-isnt-actually-that-bad’ arc

episode 13 - 5 foot 9 garfield meets avatar

episode 14 - yn the heterosexual

episode 15 - the ynwon getting closer montage :p

episode 16 - to the moon and back

episode 17 - eat 2 left toes

episode 18 - you are approved! (hw)

episode 19 - asking for a friend

episode 20 - rediscovering won’s ability to love

episode 21 - beomgyu’s 99999 eq

episode 22 - ynwon get together or else >:(

episode 23 - “hate”

episode 24 - not all problems can be solved with a formula

episode 25 - H.O.M.E.W.R.E.C.K.E.R

episode 26 - collecting facebook milfs like pokémons

episode 27 - you were brighter than the moon (hw)

episode 28 - no matter shrimp or whale, you deserve to flap your tail

episode 29 - the garden is full of surprises (hw)

episode 30 - weapon of mass destruction

episode 31 - the name above me (hw)

episode 32 - no offense but she’s a cockblocker

episode 33 - the bane of my existence (hw)

episode 34 - risky risky wiggy wigi this is an emergency

episode 35 - live my life on my terms (hw)

episode 36 - separation anxiety goes crazy

episode 37 - paparizzki

episode 38 - is it too late now to say Sorry?

episode 39 - everything will work out just the way you want it to (hw)

episode 40 (finale) - her entire being is loveable (written)

epilogue - kindred, signing off part 1 | part 2

bonus chapters!

yunjin x heeseung

i can fight

Copyright© 2023 thatfeelinwhenyou All Rights Reserved

[weast-of-eden]

I've been thinking about how I could contribute to the ACD/Granada Sherlock Holmes fandom for a while, seeing as I'm neither an artist, a writer, or anything actually useful lol. But then I realized something I myself always treasure are curated fic recs, which I could actually do! I've read probably like 25% of all the h/w ACD and Granada fics on ao3, so I compiled a short list for anyone who is just starting out with the fandom. Without further ado, may I present

Eden’s Top Picks for Beginning ACD/Granada Fics:

(edit: i made a second list here!!)

The Adventure of the Doctor's Heart by mistyzeo 12k | Rated E Summary: Holmes has observed much of Watson's habits and tastes over time, which is why it surprises him when his friend objects strangely to a folk song sung at the conclusion of a case. Disturbed by the Doctor's unexpected display of emotion, Holmes becomes determined to lift his spirits by any means necessary, with mixed results. Notes: obviously if you're going to read canonverse h/w, you are going to read mistyzeo. this one is just so good and angsty and features music (!!). it's got some steaminess but it also has wooing. basically it has everything you ever need. this is my odyssey, my iliad, my hamlet, etc.

Cameo by what_alchemy 8k | Rated M | For Archive Users Only Summary: Holmes and Watson become embroiled in a case Scotland Yard refuses to acknowledge. A soulmate AU. Notes: i honestly skipped over this fic for a while, since i'm not the biggest fan of soulmate aus. do not make the same mistake i did, because this shit HITS. this fic has hit after hit: soulmate-mark based case for our main duo, angst, hiatus feels, MORE ANGST, and ofc a happy ending. ugh. read this fic if you enjoy being happy.

A Tide That Does Not Turn by tweedisgood 3k | Rated T Summary: Holmes is a very bad patient with a devoted doctor who adores him. Watson wishes it was safe to speak up, but his friend is a tide that does not turn. Notes: do NOT read this if you don't like angst... ok now i'm sensing a pattern. anyways this is the first hurt/no comfort fic i read for this tag and i literally have cried more than enough tears over it. poor, poor watson :( iconic author though, read everything they write!

The Adventure of the Glad Outlaw by radondoran 7k | Rated T Summary: While Sherlock Holmes solves the mystery of a student's disappearance, Dr. Watson is more puzzled by the changing dynamic between his flatmate and himself. Notes: cute pastiche! a nice little mystery and a nice little get-together. ahhhhhh.... this fic is like cotton candy to me, so sweet and fluffy. defo recommend

Hands by MinorObsessions (draculard) 1.4k | Rated T Summary: Naturally, there are some things Watson thinks about Holmes that don't make it into the books. Notes: i'm also in the star trek fandom, so if you know anything about that then you know that hands are kind of A Thing in both circles and ergo i now Have A Thing about hands. so this is a nice little ode to holmes' hands, featuring some doctoring by watson AND a nice reverse appraisal at the end. it's so sweet :)

Conductor of Light by ColebaltBlue  1.4k | Rated T Summary: A Victorian stiff upper lip won't prevent you from falling in love, but it might prevent you from realizing it. Notes: they finally get their shit together! honestly i would recommend this fic to anyone just starting out with h/w fics in any medium. the characterization and dialogue is A1, and their argument is really realistic to me, idk. also features the iconic HOUN quote for its title so props to that!

A (Mis)fortunate Man by sans_patronymic 1.5k | Rated T Summary: December, 1880. Watson writes a note which may be his last. December, 1899. Watson writes back. Notes: READ THE TAGS BEFORE READING. this was a gut-wrenching read but god i cried at the end for watson. don't worry, this one has a happy ending. ugh now i wish there was a second chapter where watson lets holmes read the letters. to sum up: oof, my heart

The Second Smartest Man in London by FairSinner 73k | Rated E Summary: Dr John Watson returns from Afghanistan to Victorian London, wounded, traumatised and alone. When he meets Sherlock Holmes, his life begins to seem worth living again. But Holmes is a man who despises sentiment and Watson cannot seem to expunge it from his heart. Notes: congrats, you've made it to the end!! so now i must confess that it's been a loooong time since i've read this fic, but the private note i left on my bookmark was just "holy shit", so i'm sure it's a banger. i'm also sure it has angst because i love angst and i love bookmarking angst so i can read it again and again and suffer infinitely. enjoy :)

anyways, now that i've put these all here i realized how much i enjoy angst and hurt/no comfort fics. if any of you guys have a favorite fic you want to link or want to plug your own writing, feel free to!

[ikaishere]

Shooting Star (dtiys/wtiys)

Hello! According to a poll i ran earlier in october, a surprising amount of people (around 50, god damn) declared they would like to participate in an eventual dtiys, if I did one. So, you know me, of course I did. But, without further ado, there's the piece!

But! There is a twist to it. Since I wanted everyone to be able to enjoy it, there is no need to recreate triple threat and a shooting star. The theme of the dtiys is Triple Threat (Hyrule, Wild and Legend) X TOTK. there is no need for it to be about the shooting star, but more details under the cut:)

The official tag is #ikadtiys but please, if you participate TAG ME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! PLEASE!!!!!!!!!!!!! /gen

there is no deadline! you can always post it!

about the theme - it can be anything, as long as you keep triple threat and the totk theme. meeting zelda. meeting sages. meeting other characters. about clothes, zonai tech, the depths, foes, food, weapons, items, koroks. anything that comes to mind. of course, it would be lovely to see your versions of my art, or your interpretation of it in your writing. but i want it to be fun, so as long as triple threat and totk is there, we are all good.\

please, if you find something triggering necessary, include the triggers. overall, please no heavy gore, no nsfw. keep it accessible for everybody:)

if anyone wants to include their versions of triple threat (I'm talking aus - for example a modern au or whatever) they are also welcome! just please keep the trio

open to post on any platforms:)

answering @majorproblems77 question - yes, if you wish to, you can participate more than one time! id be honoured!

ill add more if i think of any

[hitomisuzuya]

Scaramouche x fem!reader. Smut. Thigh riding. Edging. Taunting. A collar. Degradation. Orgasm denial. Dacryphilia. Porn without plot, pretty much.

a/n: Everyone, thank you so much for all the love and support you all have given me lately. Without further ado, here we go. The collar returns as promised.

You were straddling one of Scaramouche's thighs, soaking the fabric of his shorts with every glide of your cunt along his thigh. Every moan, and whimper that tore from your throat made Scaramouche smirk wider.

He flicked the collar around your neck, enjoying the way the tag with your name on it jingled. Hooking a finger through it, pulling your face close to his, ready to lick the tears that were undoubtedly going to spill from your eyes when he denied you your release.

"No, please, Scara. Not again," You whimpered, choking back a desperate cry when his hands found your hips, squeezing them before he halted your movements.

"What's wrong, slut? Can't get yourself off without my help?" He taunted, feeling his cock growing harder whenever you squirmed on his thigh. His tongue swept out to catch the tears that started to fall from your eyes.

Determine to tease you further, he held you down on his thigh, rubbing it mercilessly against your clit, swallowing back a groan of need whenever he felt your arousal further soaking his shorts. As much as he enjoyed breaking you down, and making you beg for him, your pathetic crying only wound him up faster than he anticipated.

"Take my cock out, whore," He ordered, glaring at you for forcing him to show such vulnerability. "Be grateful for the privilege." He tugged on the collar roughly to remind you of your place.

You licked at Scaramouche's mouth submissively, nuzzling your cheek against his in adoration before reaching down with shaky fingers to unbutton his shorts.

Eager to please him, you took his cock out, pumping your hand up and down, precum rapidly coating your fingers. Your walls clenched in anticipation of feeling it sink into and spread apart your gummy walls.

When he no longer could stand the way his cock throbbed with need from your stroking, Scaramouche lifted you off of his thigh, groaning huskily in pleasure as he lowered you onto his cock.

He took his time bottoming out inside of you, wanting to relish in the feeling of your walls clamping immediate around his cock. You always felt the tightest whenever your whole body was trembling with need for him.

It was a feeling that he was addicted to.

He smacked your ass roughly, hooking his fingers through your collar again. "Start bouncing, pet. You are eager to please me, aren't you?"

You nodded, your back arching in pleasure, the knot of your denied orgasm building to burst whenever his cock rested against your sweet spot. A scream tore from your throat, making Scaramouche laugh when he abruptly slammed himself inside of you.

"Master! Please use me as a tool to get off! I'll do anything, just let me cum," You begged, bouncing with desperate abandon on his cock, driven with the need to feel him buried as deep inside of you as he could go.

"What a whore, begging so shamelessly for me," Scaramouche moaned huskily, using your collar as leverage to thrust up inside of you. His fingers pinched and pulled on your clit, making pleasure burn white hot behind your eyes, your whole body convulsing from the intensity of his thrusts.

One more broken whimper of pleasure pleased his ears when his cock nudged against your sweet spot just right, making you see stars as your release flooded onto his cock.

As his cum gobbed inside of you, Scaramouche yanked your head down, hovering his lips over yours before he kissed you. "You belong to no one else, do you understand me."

[chaosheadspace]

A little birthday gift for @seiya-starsniper. May your new year of life be full of happiness and joy! Also tagging @ginoeh, because the start of this is technically me misinterpreting one of her prompts, lol.

Without further ado, have some Dream raiding Hob's dreams post-fishbowl.

Stars twinkle through the window as Hob stands in his kitchen and cooks. It is late, but he is hungry, having forgotten the time grading. He’s got a day off tomorrow though, and so he is making himself a rather elaborate feast, because he feels like it. Because he can.

The light summer breeze coming through the window stirs the various smells about, sauteed onion and tomatoes and beef, spices and fat and broth, warm milk for hot chocolate and the dense, syrupy sweetness of baking apples. He’s never been good at moderation, least of all with food. Sue him. There’s a few candles burning on his kitchen table, decked out with earthenware, and through the speakers of his radio is playing a song he’s quite convinced he’s heard some time in the seventeenth century. It’s really crazy what musicians nowadays dig back up and incorporate into their music.

Just as he stirs the pumpkin soup bubbling on the back burner, there’s a low sound behind him. Hob turns, the dripping spoon still in his hand. “Oh,” he blurts out, “I am dreaming.”

Because there, in front of him, stands his stranger, who snubbed him at their last appointment, who he hasn’t seen in much longer than a hundred years. Who definitely, positively, has deep, black pits for eyes, who looks even more gaunt than usual, malnourished, even, and who is absolutely bang naked. He has to be dreaming. The music suddenly makes a lot more sense. The dishware, too, really.

“You are,” his stranger says, and even his voice is different, cavernous, deep and soft like his eyes.

“You’re welcome here, regardless,” Hob tells him. “You can have a shirt and sweats from me, if you want. Soup will be ready in just a tick.” He can see him swallow, hard, the movement of his Adam's apple on his slim neck stark.

“Very well,” he says, turning away. “See that it is.”

When he comes back, he’s wearing one of Hob’s old band shirts that’s somehow black now, and a pair of pajama pants with little yellow stars on them. Hob smiles, motions for him to sit down, and puts a bowl of the promised soup in front of him, steaming and fragrant, spiced with curry and nutmeg and roasted sesame seeds.

His friend wastes no time, forgoes the spoon entirely and lifts the bowl to his face to drink, his bony fingers clutching the glazed dish tight, uncaring about its heat. He doesn’t stop, doesn’t breathe until the heavy bowl is empty. Then he holds it out to Hob, the rim clutched between three fingers as if it weighs nothing. “More,” he demands, and Hob obliges.

This goes on four more times, and then the pot is empty. Next Hob serves up venison pasties, and he’s more than a little smug as his stranger devours the first one in just three bites, but Hob figures he’s allowed. “They’re good, right?” he says. His friend just glowers at him and reaches for the next one. When the pasties are gone, there’s dumplings and omelette and the apple pie.

It all vanishes, piece by piece, bit by bit, bite for bite, into his stranger. Afterwards, they look at each other in silence, Hob stunned at the speed it all vanished, his stranger apologetic for some reason. Then the silence is cut by the rather loudly growling stomach of his friend.

“I. uhm. I could make you some pasta?” Hob offers. “Maybe some pudding, too, let’s see…”

“No,” he’s interrupted just as he gets up. “I am afraid I have to hurry. There are things I have to tend to rather urgently. I thank you for being so hospitable.”

Suddenly they are standing in the doorway again, from one second to the next, Hob blinking up confusedly intovast, starlit eyes. They’re close, closer than they’ve ever been. There is no warmth emanating from his stranger, just a heavy, almost humming sense of presence that draws Hob in.

“Do you have to go?” He pleads. “Maybe I could—”

“I am afraid I cannot delay my task any further, Hob.” His stranger shakes his head. “I thank you for this.”

“Wait,” Hob says, desperately. “This is a dream, right?”

His stranger turns back around, the look on his face incredulous. “Yes,” he confirms for the second time, “it is.”

“So there’s no harm in doing this then,” Hob murmurs, stepping closer, gently placing one hand upon a lily-white neck. His friend shivers. Hob gets up on his toes and slowly, gently kisses his brow. “I hope you fare well,” he whispers, “and I will not give up hope to see you again when I am awake.”

From one moment to the next, Hob is alone. There is a relieving sense of loss in him, like a splinter being drawn from a wound.

Hob wakes.

[fillinforlater]

It’s that time of the year again. What are some of your favorite smuts released in 2023?

Monday of Appreciation: Part 104

Hello everyone, Smite here!

2023 is coming to a close and it's been quite the year, a mixture of "this is a bridge year for greater things to come" and "WE LIVIN' NOW MF!" What is a bit different this year is that the highs weren't as high and the lows weren't as low compared to previous years---maybe that is just me getting older, maybe it's hindsight. Either way, I'm good and this year was good.

But some things are more than just good. I'm of course talking about these writers and their stories that I have featured today. All of them deserve special mention, but I want to focus on two of them specifically.

In a year of great, fantastic and already legendary fics, these two stand out.

Without further ado, let's dive into the final MoA of this year:

-1-

@fanfiction4sooya: Can't Save You Now ft. Chaewon, Kazuha, Sakura

I- I- I just read the damn tags and new I one day had to give this a shot. ff4sooya has crazy ideas, futa galore, different dynamics and kinks, which is SO MY THING. This has Mommy and Daddy involved in an absurd (and absurdly hot) threesome that I couldn't take my eyes off.

Now I definitely need to read more and you should too because I bet there are a bunch of Masterpieces in that long Masterlist!

-2-

@iznsfw: Drunken ft. Olivia Hye

Is it really a Monday of Appreciation post without IZ?

Seriously, what this genius is able to cook up in a commission or in the currently ongoing (HYPE) IZ DAYS OF CHRISTMAS is absolutely incredible. We have long stories with in depth characters and love drama that ends not only smuttily but sweetly. Who the fuck needs books, when you can just binge IZ?

With "Drunken", they have once again hit it out of the FUCKIING park. There is never enough Daddy kink fics, yes, but mine seem like nonsensical cringe porn compared to this beauty of a piece. I love how it plays with my heart, no I'm not crying---okay, now that is hot.

Let me change that: there is three very fucking special stories today!

(I think this might even be better than Levi's Hyeju, wtf)

-3-

@cataboliac: Enkindle ft. Wendy

Firstly: I LOVE YOU CATA, BIG QT!

Secondly: "Enkindle" feels a bit like coming home, like a day in Paradise, like the one person that shines so bright in your life that you don't want it to go. And you know, that is the great thing: this might be Cata's final fic, the farewell, but not only is his life gonna be great and he'll be super happy - we also get to read this again and again, and I'm sure I will one day.

Thank you, Cata, for hanging around!

Thirdly: I'M GONNA KISS YOU, CATA!

-4-

@writerpeach: Delectation ft. Wonyoung, Yujin

1.000 Notes, and it's still not enough for what is my pick for fic of the year (FOTY? FOOTY? There is a scene like that, yep). IZ*ONE truly never dies, but it is IVE and these absolute super stars, bomb shells with flawless faces and different, yet irresistible bodies that have us in a frenzy.

Talking about frenzy, all those 30,699 words are a frenzy. I thought Peach would set it up with a long and painful tease that has us edging the entire time BUT NOPE this has so much fucking smut, so many lines of neediness and horniness, it is impossible to finish in one try or two tries or... I dunno, seven-hundred tries?

It's detailed, it's straight forward, it's sex from every fucking angle, I can never get tired of this. I will go so far and say this is Peach's magnum opus, the GOAT fic by the GOAT writer. At least for that day, I can say this without a doubt.

Peach, you are crazy and thank you for that <3

#PeachPavedTheWay #AnnyeongzForDaddy

[denaliwrites]

What Beautiful Things I'll Wear

Tenth Doctor x Fem!Reader

Summary: The Doctor takes you to a masquerade ball during the Renaissance.

Soundtrack: Marry Me by Emilie Autumn

Requests: Open!

Tag List: @nyxiethesimp (I always forget this bit, I'm so sorry!)

Warnings: Canon-Typical Peril.

"Oi! We're gonna miss it!" the Doctor called into the TARDIS wardrobe, startling you out of your reverie.

"You have a time machine!" you snapped back in lighthearted exasperation.

"We can't cross our own timelines!"

"I'm sure there are other balls we could attend, Doctor!"

"Yeah, but this one's got Machiavelli!"

"Wait, seriously?" you asked as you poked your head out of the wardrobe. "The Machiavelli?"

"Yeah," he said teasingly with a big grin. "So hurry up, before the party's over and he leaves!"

You sighed with a roll of your eyes and withdrew back into the wardrobe, adding the final touches to your ensemble in a rush.

Finally, you exited, adorned in a lavish dress of midnight and periwinkle. Sat delicately over your face was a silver wolf mask, which hid an equally wolfish smile. "How do I look?" you asked, giving the Doctor a twirl for effect.

He stood in silence, simply taking you in for a few moments. He looked somewhat awestruck, eyes wide and full of something you couldn't quite put a fully accurate name to. And the smile he gave you -- it was adoring in the way his smiles often were when he was faced with humanity's charm and brilliance. But it seemed deeper than that. More personal. Intimate.

It sent a shiver down your spine.

"Doctor?" you prompted him gently.

He blinked back to himself and his smile easily slipped into something more casual. "You look stunning," he told you as he held an arm out for you. There was still something in his voice that tickled your senses, but you left it, eagerly taking his arm. Without further ado, the two of you were off to the ball to meet Machiavelli.

--- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- --- ---

Machiavelli had turned out to be a rather boring individual.

Well.

That wasn't fair. He just wasn't the kind of man you'd expected the writer of the Prince to be. He was a lot more mild, comparatively, and didn't seem to possess any of the traits that you, in your modern attitude, would consider Machiavellan.

Except maybe the way he seemed rather eager to get to know you biblically.

You swore, if he cooed one more "good lady" or "lovely mistress" or "darling girl" in your general direction, you'd lose your mind.

The worst offense, though, was that he'd separated you from the Doctor. You'd tried looking for him, but he'd seemingly vanished entirely from the ball.

Tired, lost, exasperated, you made your way to a bench out on a nearby balcony and flopped gracelessly onto the seat with a groan. It had already been such a night, and now all you wanted was to crawl into your bed.

You groaned again as a shadow fell over you. You turned, fully expecting to see the Machiavelli there to hound you into another dance.

Instead, you saw... nothing? But also something.

It cast a shadow, so you knew that there had to be something physically there. But as you looked, it seemed to shimmer and glide right out of your field of view, like the dancing dapples of light on the surface of a pool.

You'd spent enough time with the Doctor to know when things were a little... off. You weren't sure if this was the work of a perception filter, or something similar, but it definitely wasn't normal and it definitely wasn't human.

And it definitely wasn't throwing you off the trail.

You opened your mouth to speak, but before you could, a voice called out. "Don't!" You turned again to see the Doctor running towards you.

There was a sudden sting as something slid into your neck, and then heat spread out from the injection, dazing you. You heard the Doctor calling your name, even felt his hands on you, but couldn't see anything other than the shimmering man behind you.

"What have you done to her?" the Doctor shouted. You were startled, you felt it, yet your body didn't move. "Whatever you did, fix it! Cure her!"

You could feel the heat spreading. It felt like fire, razing through your veins like an inferno. You had the sense to know it should hurt, yet you felt no pain. Even so, you knew that without some kind of antidote, it'd kill you.

The Doctor seemed to know that too.

"Please," he said, and you realized he'd moved on to begging. "Please. Not her. Let me save her." Begging for you. For your life.

You watched as the entity produced something new -- it still shimmered, never letting you get a good look at it, but as it slipped into your neck you realized it was another needle.

This time, the plunger sent ice into your veins. It moved quickly, eating up the fire and leaving you shivering... but alive. You realized as the ice spread that, not only were you wracked with tremors, but you could move your own body voluntarily. You lifted your arms with difficulty and wrapped them heavily around the Doctor's neck. And gently, he tipped your head forward so that your eyes were finally on him.

"Doctor," you whimpered. "About damn time..."

He laughed a little at that, though it sounded hollow and the smile that came with it didn't reach his eyes. "Fashionably late as ever, eh?" he asked gently.

Your head lolled when you tried to nod. That made him laugh again, and that time it didn't sound so hollow.

"What did you do to her?" he asked the shimmering man again. There was no reply, and you almost thought that maybe the strange entity had left.

"She required correcting," a dozen voices said at once.

"Correcting?" the Doctor asked, pulling you closer protectively.

"The female carried disease. It's now eliminated, and she is corrected."

"Disease?" you and the Doctor asked simultaneously.

"She is corrected." With that, there was a whoosh behind you, and you knew that whatever that thing was, it was gone.

The Doctor stayed with you until you'd recovered, holding you close and stroking your hair with one hand while the other rubbed circles into your back.

Once you could move without fumbling like a ragdoll, he helped you to a stand and guided you towards the door.

Music still played in the ballroom, though most of the attendees had filtered out and the party was definitely in its final throes. Machiavelli, blessedly, was gone.

The Doctor brought you to a halt in the middle of the room and turned towards you with a light smile. "May I have this dance?" he asked, and though he tried to sound casual, you could hear that deeper note in his voice once again.

"You may," you answered thoughtfully.

He began leading you through the steps of a waltz you didn't recognize, but it wasn't too hard to pick up. You imagined he'd chosen something that would be easy for you, in case any effects from your "correction" still lingered.

"Doctor?" you murmured into his ear after a while of dancing in silence.

He hummed in acknowledgement, and you could've sworn his arms around you got tighter.

"You've seemed... a bit off, for a while... is everything okay?"

"Oh... everything's wonderful," he answered, and you could hear in his voice that he meant it. He shifted his arms so that he could cradle your face in his hands, one on your cheek and one on your neck, thumb rubbing circles into the spot where the entity had injected you with those strange substances. "Everything's perfect, in fact."

"Y-yeah?" you asked, looking into his eyes, your own wide as he watched you with such intense and bare adoration.

"Yeah."

You didn't pull away as he leaned forward, didn't move back as his lips pressed to your own. It was a sweet and tender kiss, the kind of kiss that sent an entirely different kind of warmth through your veins. You smiled sweetly into it, and you could tell the Doctor felt it as you felt his lips quirk up in response.

He pulled away, and while you leaned into his chest with a contented sigh, he peppered little pecks over your bare shoulders in reverence.

You stayed like that, swaying gently in a dance not from your planet, to music not from your time, up until the moment the band stopped playing.

[itslottiehere]

i don’t wanna hear about him — h.s

hello beautiful people 🤍 welcome back! i know it’s been a while! but now, i present you a one shot i’m veryyy proud of, and hopefully you’ll find it to your liking as well <3 it’s inspired by harry’s unreleased song, “him.” just fyi, there won’t be a part two of this! as always, please let me know what you think! you can do so in your reblogs, in your tags, or in my asks! your feedback means the world to me. so, without further ado, happy reading! <3

— inspired by “him”, by harry styles

tw: some swear words

word count: 13.5k of pure angst (please get something to drink and tissues)

masterlist | leave your feedback or requests here

6 years before the day.

when harry told her that they were going to attend the same college, she couldn’t believe him. she was sure harry was gonna take a gap year or something, travel around the world, make experiences. all the while she would wait for him patiently, like she always did.

falling for your best friend isn’t the smartest idea, anyone would tell you that. a little of a cliché too, perhaps. but there was nothing she could do against those feelings: they planted their seeds deep into her heart, and bloomed. and they kept doing so.

now, three years into their college career, those feelings had developed deep roots, and it seemed like nothing was ever gonna eradicate them. 

but it was fine, she kept telling herself: it hurt, of course it did, but at least she had harry in her life, in some way. there was only one thing of the utmost importance: not letting harry find out. 

she knew that if he found out, he would run. that’s what he did every time he was faced with difficult situations, and god if this wouldn’t be one. 

so she learned how to mask those feelings, and she got pretty good at that over the course of the years. she couldn’t stand even thinking about not having him in her life, especially as a friend, so if all it took was bottling up her feelings, she would gladly do so. 

harry was happy: he was having fun in college and was seeing people whenever he wanted to, enjoying being a bachelor more than anything. and he was in college with his best friend, who was always there to play with his hair whenever he asked her to. he liked the comfort she brought him, and that’s why he didn’t really stop to think about what it could feel like for her, if it had a different meaning for her.

she’d always look at him as if he put the stars in the sky for her, she had nothing but love for him in those eyes. even if she tried sparing glances at him whenever he wasn’t looking, everyone around her noticed. and every time, harry didn’t. 

or that was what she had always thought. 

actually, and unfortunately, harry did notice, but didn’t know what to do, how to bring up such a topic with a person who he only saw as the best of friends, but nothing more than that.

and maybe, just maybe, he was so arrogant that he loved the attention and didn’t want to deal with the consequences of actually talking about it. 

—

5 years before the day.

graduating was scary for her, almost terrifying. 

a new beginning, once again. not knowing where life would take her, once again. 

and the nagging thought that kept her awake at night, the ones she spent listening to sad love ballads about failed relationships and missed opportunities: would harry still be in her life? she couldn’t help but think that he would move on, and leave her behind on his way to his new life, a memory of his younger years, of the life he wanted to move on from.

harry, on the other hand, was giddy. he didn’t know what the future would hold for him and he couldn’t help but think how exciting this was: a new start, endless possibilities for him to take, no matter how good or bad. “bring it”, he thought. 

she started working at a little coffee shop, just to do something after graduation. she could afford a very small apartment, but didn’t care, because it was something that was finally hers, and she was extremely proud of it. 

harry liked it too, and bought her a plant and a bottle of cheap champagne the day she got the keys.

“to our new lives”, he toasted, raising his glass.

“to going forward”, she added, a whole different meaning to her words from what harry may have thought. 

she really did have a plan to move forward. she knew she had to, the whole thing was becoming more ridiculous each day that passed: harry looked at her as a friend, and that was okay. he had been dating all throughout college, saw people all the time, and she had no real reason to wait for him, not when she knew things wouldn’t ever change. 

if only she had ever caught a glimpse of him looking at her the way she looks at him, or a certain touch that could give her even the littlest doubt of him having feelings. 

but that didn’t happen, not in high school, not in college. and it was just never gonna happen. she just had to make peace with it. 

and she was trying to: she had met a guy, named noah. he came into the coffee shop one afternoon, all wet from the rain. with a tired smile he came up to the counter, and when he looked at her, she could’ve sworn his eyes lit up a little. 

he had a goofy grin on his face, his hair sticking to his forehead, and after he mulled a bit on what to order, glancing at the board, he looked back at her and asked her to make him her favorite drink. 

she nodded, smiled at him, and told him he could take a seat at a table and wait for her to bring him his order. he smiled again, and went to sit down. 

he stayed for a while, almost up until closing time. before going away, noah came up to the counter and kindly asked her “do you happen to have a pen?”. she picked one up and handed it to him, and not even after twenty seconds, he came up to her again, thanked her and gave her the pen back. but not only that: there was also a napkin with his phone number scribbled on it. 

she smiled and heard the little bell of the door ringing. 

she thinks she will call him.

this had happened about a couple of weeks before. harry didn’t know about noah yet.

— 

4 years and 9 months before the day.

she couldn’t believe that she actually started dating someone. it was going slowly, but it was nice. noah was good, he made her laugh and was plenty nice, and as much as this sucked to say, if harry wasn’t going to be her person, then maybe she could be happy with noah. 

harry heard about this noah guy a couple of times. she seemed really fond of him, and he can’t help but breathe a sigh of relief. she looked happier then he has seen her in a while. maybe she’s moving on, and she deserved it, he thought.

is she really moving on?

— 

4 years and 6 months before the day.

she really didn’t want to do this. fighting with harry was her least favorite thing to do. 

they kinda lost track on each other in those three months: things began to get more serious with noah, and she actually understood that noah wasn’t second best to harry. he was just another best. 

it was a safe love, a sure one; a place where she didn’t have to wonder if that touch was something more than just that, because she knew it was. 

it’s nice, she thought, to know that you love and are loved back. it’s nice.

so she put all her energies into that relationship, and she was very glad she did: it felt somewhat refreshing, to finally come out of the shadows, to finally put herself first.

but that didn’t mean she expected her best friend of almost 10 years to move across the globe and not tell her. 

he told her by text. a week before he’s supposed to leave.

she told him countless times that some things are not things he was supposed to tell via text messages, and he knew how much she hated it. 

“sometimes you gotta suck it up, be brave and tell someone what the deal is.” she always told him. apparently, she spoke in vain.

“Hi! I know this is kind of out of the blue, but I’m moving back to London next week. I don’t know for how long yet, I guess I’ll make the decision once I’m there, but I wanted to ask you if you want to have a coffee or something before I go, and if so, to let me know. I get that you’re busy now.”

she felt like the last line was probably a bit passive aggressive, but she quickly discarded the idea: he had no reason to be acting like that. yes, she had been busy with noah and with her life for once, and she didn’t give him her undivided attention. so was that it? was that the reason he never brought this up before?

before she could even register what she was doing, she was putting her shoes on and grabbing her car keys.

a loud knock from the door had harry look up from his halfway done suitcase. his phone, resting on the nightstand, unlocked, open on their chat. 

he couldn’t believe she left him on read. he thought news like that, of him leaving for god knew how long, would be enough to at least get a little of her attention. but alas, he was wrong.

he didn’t know whether he was feeling more sad or disappointed, or angry. why did things had to change? why does he feel a weight on his chest every time she turns down a chance to hang out because she already had plans with noah? why was he feeling like that?

and as always, when things got too hard, what did he do? run. and that was the exact same thing he was doing then.

the pounding on the door didn’t let up, so he said loudly: “give me a second, i’m coming.”

he jogged to the door and opened it, not even having the time to actually understand what was happening: she stormed in, moving to stand into his living room, her arms crossed and the most furious look harry had ever seen on her face. 

he was a bit shocked to see her there, in a place she hadn’t been to in almost three months. he didn’t really know what to say.

“hi.” harry said almost questioningly.

“you’re leaving for london for you don’t know how long and you didn’t even have the gall to tell me in person?” she was practically seething, her face stony, but her eyes burning into his.

“i-uh, i knew you were-“

“don’t even try to repeat that “i’ve been busy”. you know it’s a big change, a fucking huge one, and you choose to tell me in a fucking text?” the volume of her voice was increasingly raising. “what is wrong with you?”

that set harry off. “what is wrong with me?” he stepped forward. “am i the one who disappeared on you for three months? am i the one who ignored you the few times we actually got to hang out because i was too distracted by my boyfriend, who couldn’t help but text me while he knew i was out?” he was almost screaming, a tone of his voice she had never heard before, and hoped she never had to again. 

even if she didn’t know if there was anything else left to be said between them after this fight.

“you are-“ she scoffed. “you are something else.” 

she often told him that phrase, whenever he did or said something she couldn’t believe, but it was always followed by a laugh. this time, though, a laugh was the last thing on her mind. 

“when for once in- what, almost 10 years of friendship - i stop putting you on a fucking pedestal and put myself first, you start acting like a spoiled little kid? really?” she was in disbelief, she couldn’t believe the audacity he had to say that.

“i’m not-”

“oh but you are, you fucking are. and you know what makes my blood boil?” she paused and almost murmured her next words. “the fact that you never realized that you pulled this shit on me all the time, every single time you got into a relationship: once you’d find a partner, you’d put me on the back burner. and what did i always do?” she pointed her finger towards him for the next sentence. “i’d always let you. wanna know why? because i knew that once you get into a relationship, you need to cut some time with just the other person. and i always let you do whatever you wanted, never once complaining.” 

she shook her head, closed her eyes, and went on. “and now that i am the one in a relationship with a guy who loves me, who makes me feel happy and safe, who i’m sure is not gonna bolt as soon as i don’t give him my undivided attention, you’re here pointing your finger at me because you haven’t been my priority these last couple of months?” if she hadn’t closed her eyes, she would’ve seen harry visibly cringing at the concept of “love” associated by her to noah. even he couldn’t really understand why it hit him so hard.

“let me just-” he tried to talk back but was once again interrupted by her.

“no, i won’t let you, because i don’t need to hear anything from you: the way you behaved in making such a life changing decision already told me a lot of how highly you think of me.” the phrase was dowsed in sarcasm. 

she went towards the door, grabbed the handle and as she was about to walk out of that apartment and possibly his life, she turned back and told him one last thing. “i guess it’s good to know who’s the one who’s always gonna leave at the littlest inconvenience.”

she slammed the door on her way out.

she walked home, silent and angry tears streaming down her face. she had never been that mad in her life, and especially never with harry, but no matter how angry she felt, she was at least twice as sad. she was always afraid of this happening, of them on not being friends and going their separate ways, and knowing her biggest fear had become a horrible reality, was making her spiral. 

she knew her anger was her mind’s way of softening the blow, of making her think that somehow she wasn’t the reason she was gonna lose her best friend, that harry made the decision for the both of them by hiding the move from her.

she knew all of this, and her anger quickly dissipated, leaving room for pure sadness to take over. 

grabbing her phone, she quickly typed a message.

to noah:

“can’t come out tonight, i'll see you later”

noah responded almost immediately. 

“Oh okay, that’s fine! If you need anything, I’m right here for you :)”

yeah, he was there. he was the one who was staying. 

she put her phone away, and kept walking home.

harry stayed put on that spot right outside the living room for at least 5 minutes after she left. 

she left, she left, she left.

he didn’t know what he was feeling. jealousy, anger, sadness, disappointment, surprise, resentment, regret, shame of himself, he was feeling it all.

he hated that she didn’t let him talk, that she didn’t let him explain why he was leaving. 

but when he actually thought about it, what was he gonna tell her? why was he really leaving? was it really the grad school he applied to? couldn’t he find one just as good there? did he really have to put all that distance between them to attend some school?

he knew the answer. he knew, but running away was easier than facing the truth.

he went back to his room, head hanging low, not sure on what to do. he walked in and looked at the half made bag, the clothes messily thrown in there.  he sighed, picked it up and moved it from the bed. he went to get his journal, hidden in the little drawer of his nightstand. 

it was an old leather journal, one he had ever since he was a teen, a place for him to express himself in a way that he couldn’t do with simple sentences and words, where he could scribble all kind of thoughts, draw some doodles, write some quotes from someone else that he liked, and sometimes some of his own. 

he chose a blank page, picked up his pen, and started writing what he couldn’t tell her, what he could barely admit to himself.

“so you were right, there’s always two:

the one who stays, and the one who’s leaving you.

hear me out, my apologies,

‘cause i’m not here for sympathy.”

—

4 years and 5 months and 3 weeks before the day.

he was leaving in a matter of hours. she knew that, but her pride still wouldn’t let her make the first step. during that week, she got to know the reason why he was leaving, thanks to an old classmate who somehow found out: he got into an amazing grad school, and she immediately knew there was no reason for him to turn down such an opportunity.

she knew she didn’t let him explain why he was leaving, and she regretted that, but that didn’t change the main problem: he was mad at her because she stopped being at his beck and call. he was so used to her putting him first than anyone else — especially herself — and now that she didn’t, he behaved like a spoiled little kid.

harry knew how much she cared for him, and how she would’ve dropped anything if he was ever in need. he knew and he used that knowledge somewhat against her: it felt like he saw as an ornament, that he could put up on a shelf and leave there to collect dust when he was bored and pick her back up once he was done with other ornaments. she felt disposable. she felt that that’s what she was to harry. 

she tried, she tried so hard to convince herself that it wasn’t the case, that harry missed her because he cared about her as a person and not because he saw her as someone he was used to.

but he was leaving in a matter of hours, and she didn’t hear from him ever since she stormed out of his apartment.

it was around 2am, and sleep just wouldn’t come to her. she didn’t know at what time his flight would leave, if he packed all the things if he was gonna need, if he remembered to pack the journal she has seen plenty of times but was never lucky enough to read. she knew it was like a safety blanket for him, that he brought it with him basically anywhere.

she kept turning in her bed, not able to find a comfortable position. she sighed, turned on her right side and faced the window of her bedroom. the sky was a deep blue, but clear. 

“maybe the flight will be smooth, then” she thought. 

she sighed, closed her eyes and begged sleep to come, but her mind was racing, mostly with the knowledge that her best friend was gonna leave and maybe never come back. and that he didn’t even think about apologizing to her, that he’d rather leave everything than face-

the sound of something hitting her bedroom window stopped her train of thoughts. was it hailing? no, it couldn’t be, the sky was clear.

she groaned and got up from her bed, put her arms around herself to somewhat maintain a little of the warmth she had in bed, and walked to look outside her window.

and who could be there, if not her dumbass of a best friend?

harry crouched down to pick up a few more pebbles, not ones big enough to break her window or else she would have a whole other reason to hate him.

his flight was at 10, so he still had a little time left and he couldn’t go away before seeing her. it was hard for him, to admit that he was in the wrong, that he was such an arrogant son of a bitch that he’d rather lose his best friend than admit he was jealous.

not that he’d admit that to her, he knew that much. but he also knew he had to apologize, even if it was at the last second.

once he found some good pebbles, he stood up and was getting ready to throw one once again. but at the window stood her, in her plaid pjs bottoms, looking at him.

he gave her a timid smile, and she gestured with her hand for him to come upstairs. 

she waited at her door, not knowing what to do. what was she gonna say? was it gonna be a nice moment or was it gonna be another fight? why was she feeling anxious with harry, the one person she never felt anxious with? she didn’t like feeling like this, not at all.

harry was waiting at her doorstep. if it was a different occasion, he would’ve used the set of keys she had made for him; but this wasn’t that kind of occasion, and maybe at the end of this night, if it didn’t go as he planned, he would’ve had to leave them there. he shook his head, trying to clear his mind, and raised his fist to knock on the door, but it opened before he could make contact with it. 

she stood there, almost timidly, unsure of what was gonna happen. 

“hi.” he murmured.

she finally looked at him, her eyes tired, but, heartbreakingly enough for harry, not with sleep. “hi. please, come in.” she moved aside, and let him in.

harry murmured a small /‘thank you’/,  and moved inside. he was standing right in the middle of the room, not knowing where to go, not knowing if he was even welcome in that place anymore. 

she looked at him kinda funnily, tilted her head and said: “you know you can also not stand there like a statue and-”

“i’m sorry. i’m so fucking sorry, darling.” he murmured, shaking his head slightly. “i’ve been a shit friend and what i did is awful, and i know this apology doesn’t mean anything, but-”

“harr-” she tried to interrupt.

“no, please, let me talk this time.” he said, and moved to sit on the couch. “you were right, i behaved like a brat. i’ve never done anything this wrong before, i know i screwed up and i know i let you down.” he took a deep breath. “i just want you to know that i’m not moving because of you and noah, but because i got accepted in this school in london,-”

“i- uh, i know.” she gulped. “congratulations.” 

he was kind of surprised, “oh, you know?” she nodded. “well, yeah- so i got into this school and i was very happy about it, but it killed me that i couldn’t celebrate that with you. and i’m not saying it was your fault, because it was definitely mine: i wanted you to be around 24/7 like it always has been and it was wrong of me. i’m happy for you and noah seems like an amazing guy, and you deserve nothing less. i’m so sorry.” he ended, looking deep into her eyes.

she went to sit down next to him, “can i talk now?” he nodded. “i accept your apology. i know it was hard for you to admit you were wrong, and i really appreciate it.” she took a breath. “i’m sad you didn’t tell me, yes. but what hurts me the most was feeling like i was disposable to you.” 

harry winced at that. “please, don’t say that, you’re killing me.”

she turned around to face him better. “i’m sorry, but it’s true, that’s how i felt. i know you don’t see me that way, i know it now, but it sure felt like it. to me, it was /‘hey, i’m moving to this cool place for however long and i didn’t care about telling you until the last second. see ya!’/” she took a breath, and went on. “but i’m glad you came here, and that you said all the things you said. thank you.”

harry lowered his head. “you shouldn’t have to thank me.” he murmured. “you didn’t deserve the way i treated you.”

“yeah,” she nodded, “you’re right, i didn’t. but you apologised and i accepted it. so now instead of being all sad, why don’t you tell me more about this fancy school?” she smiled, getting more comfortable on the couch. 

he smiled right back at her, and started talking about what the future had in store for him.

we’ll be alright, he thought.

they kept talking all night, laughing at the memories and full of faith in the future. harry stayed there as long as he could, soaking up all of /her/ he could get, but around 5am, their time was up: harry had to get ready for the airport, and she had to open at the coffee shop in a couple of hours.

“so” he gulped, “i guess this is goodbye.” 

“c’mon harry, don’t be so sad.” she smiled softly, although she was breaking a bit inside. but she added, “it’s not like we won’t see each other anymore! i’ll visit, you’ll visit, we’ll facetime all the time - oh, let’s make a pact! if not every night, at least 4 times a week we have to facetime. deal?”

harry smiled, and nodded. “deal.”

we’ll be alright, she thought.

they hug goodbye at the door, clinging to each other a little longer than usual. this wasn’t a goodbye, he wasn’t leaving her, this was just a see you later. he hoped she knew that.

now, it was time for the next chapter, for the both of them.

—

3 years and 1 month before the day.

“harry? can you hear me?” 

“yeah, just a sec-”

“as much as i love your ceiling, i’d like to see your face. what, did you get a haircut? is it bad?”

“no, you little shit, give me a second.” she could hear the smile on his lips. “here- there you go, i’m here.” he adjusted his phone, so she could see him well enough.

“hi! no haircut i see.” she smiled. “that’s for the better, i’ve always loved your long hair.” that sentence made harry’s heart flutter. it seemed that’s the only reaction it had whenever she was involved.

“i know you did, who can forget the tears you shed when i cut it short?” he smiled smugly.

she was immediately offended. “hey! it was the perfect length for me to braid it, you looked so pretty. my reaction was more than justified.” she pouted.

“alright, alrig-”

“baby? here’s your tea.” a deeper voice came through his speaker. of fucking course. 

her face lit up as soon as the person who spoke came into the room. “ah, thanks baby!” she puckered her lips, and noah gave her a soft quick peck, before realising she wasn’t alone.

“oh hi harry!” noah waved. “how’s it going? everything good?”

harry swallowed his envy and his jealousy, barely. “yeah-” he cleared his voice. “yeah, everything is good. you?”

“oh yeah, thank you! i’m so sorry, i didn’t mean to interrupt.” he smiled a bit embarrassed. “i didn’t realise it was facetime time, but i’ll get out of your hair immediately. bye harry!” he said louder, and then added softly. “bye dear.” he gave her a quick peck on the top of her head, and left the room. 

she didn’t stop smiling throughout the whole interaction. and that made harry’s blood boil. but it wasn’t the time to be upset now, now that she was in front of him. 

“sorry, since he moved in we are trying to figure out a schedule for the both of us, i forgot he got off early today.” she said softly. 

yeah, he moved in. she broke the news to harry a couple of weeks before and he had to pretend to be thrilled about it. he couldn’t help it: not even being oceans apart from her helped him ease the pain, and also the fact that he had been gone for over a year didn’t make this any easier. 

“it’s okay.” he said, pretending. “how’s it going with you guys?” he’d prefer a stake through his heart rather than hearing her response, but he also knew he had to ask, being her friend. what if she wasn’t happy?

“oh, it’s amazing.” she smiled. “it’s just like- getting extra time with your best friend, you know? like, you know when you are out with a friend and you just don’t want to leave them and go home?” he nodded. he felt that way every time he hang out with her, and harry wanted to smack his old self for not doing something about it when he had the chance. “and now, i don’t have to wish for him to not leave, because he’s here! so yeah, it’s pretty great.” 

he nodded silently, a soft smile on his lips. even if all he wanted was to be noah right then, he couldn’t help but be excited for her: she was so happy, happier than he had ever seen her. “that’s amazing, love. you deserve it.” 

she smiled as well, “thank you, harry. and i finally don’t have to fight with someone who steals all the covers and leaves me in the cold!” she added, trying to lighten the mood.

he pretended to be shocked and offended. “okay, that happened one— or two times if we’re exaggerating, and it was cold! i had to!” 

their banter went back and forth for a little while, laughing like always. harry tried to ignore the heartache the thought of them being all domestic gave him, at least up until they’d end their call. so he pushed his thoughts aside, and focused on enjoying the company of his best friend.

“alright, i’m afraid i have to go now.” she pouted. “but i’ll talk to you tomorrow, or in the following days? just- whenever you want! alright?” 

“yeah, of course.” he smiled. “goodbye, darling. talk soon.”

“goodbye, harry.”

“bye.”

once the call ended, harry threw his head back, groaning. why did it all have to be so difficult? why couldn’t he have realised how he really felt before? why couldn’t he have realised it when he slept over at her place, when he could feel her hair on his face, her body close to his? why couldn’t he have realised it before she fell for someone who didn’t steal all the covers?

as all the other times when his thoughts were too loud, he opened his desk drawer and looked for his — now even more — worn leather journal, flipping to the pages to /that/ particular page, and got his pen ready. the ink flowed easily on the paper. 

“cause i don’t want to hear about him, 

how he’s holding you better at night.”

—

1 year and 4 months before the day.

“what the fuck?” she screamed through the speaker. “what the actual fuck? when?” 

he chuckled. “in a couple of months. i thought it was better telling you face to face, or at least through a phone call, rather than a text.” 

“and you were right! oh my god, i can’t believe you’re coming home in two months.” he couldn’t see her face, but he could hear she was smiling. she went on, voice a bit quieter this time around. “for good? are you coming home for good?”

“technically, the UK is my home-”

“oh shut it, styles.” she interrupted. “you know what i mean.” he did. and he knew that home was the right term, because home was wherever she was. 

“yeah, for good i think, or at least for a long while.” he said, stopping at a red light. 

his brakes made a screeching sound, telling her exactly what he was doing. 

“wait- are you driving? it’s not safe! i’m ending the call, we’ll talk once-”

“hey, slow down. i am driving, and you’re on speaker. i called you as soon as i was out of the office because i couldn’t hold it in any longer.” he said, smiling. 

“aw, you’re cute when you want to.” she breathed a laugh. “but now, let’s talk business: your homecoming party!”

“as i said, since i’m from the UK, i’m actually already-”

“oh, fuck off!”

—

1 year and 2 months before the day.

“noah, kill the lights! everyone hide and be quiet!”

“yes, ma’am.” one of their friends whispered.

she had been behaving a bit like a drill sergeant, but she couldn’t care less: her best friend was finally coming home and nothing — absolutely nothing — could go wrong. she missed him so much, and she couldn’t wait to share the news. 

just not tonight, because tonight was all about him and him only. 

her phone screen lit up, an incoming call from harry. she swiped her finger on the screen and answered him. “hello?”

“hey! i’m almost at your place, are you home? i didn’t see your car.” that was because she had carefully parked it a couple of blocks from her apartment to sell her story.

“yeah, sorry, i got caught up at work! i’ll be home in a little bit, i’ll try to get out of here as soon as possible! i’m so sorry.” she lied through her teeth.

“no, uh, don’t be- it’s fine.” he sounded a bit sad and perhaps disappointed. 

all was going according to plan.

“please, go in! i don’t know if you still have your key, but there’s one under the doormat!; make yourself at home!”

“of course i still have it, what do you think?” he chuckled. “alright, i’m going up the stairs, i’ll see you soon.”

“alright! bye for now!”

“bye bye.” harry murmured, ending the call. he put his phone in his back pocket, before jogging up the last flight of stairs. once he was in front of the door, he took out his keys, but stopped. “please, don’t let noah be home.” he thought. 

he put the key in the lock, turned it to open the door, and walked in the place that felt like home more than anywhere in the world.

as he was closing the door, the lights came up. “what the-”

“SURPRISE!!” her living room was filled with their friends, all smiling at him. but he only saw one face in the midst of them, because her smile was brighter than all the others. 

“fuck me, you guys were about to make me drop dead on the floor.” he chuckled and the others joined him. he pointed his finger towards his best friend, “you fucker.”

“welcome home, harry!” she said smiling, going towards him to wrap him in a hug. 

he was home.

the party was going splendidly: almost everyone was tipsy, someone more than the others — harry talked to everyone who was there, but all he really wanted was to talk to her.

“it’s nice seeing your face in real life.” he slurred, a bit intoxicated.

“oh well, thank you, i guess?” she smiled, and reached for her drink. 

and that’s when the light hit something sparkly on her finger, and harry’s heart fell to his stomach. his mouth dry, his eyes unblinking.

“what is that?” he murmured, so low she could barely hear it.

she frowned, and followed his line of sight. when she understood what he was looking at, she quickly lowered her hand to her side. “fuck, i forgot to take it off before you came here.” she looked up at him with her eyes wide. 

did she plan on keeping this hidden from me? he couldn’t understand what was going on, his mind was spinning from the news, and the alcohol in his system wasn’t helping.  

“i wanted to tell you the news in person, but i wanted tonight to be just about you! i was gonna tell you tomorrow or in the following days, fuck i screwed it all up now.” she groaned and put her hand on her eyes. 

harry shook his head, trying to find his voice. “no, no, it’s okay.” he breathed a deep breath. “congratulations.”

she looked at him with a crooked smile. “thank you, harry.” she paused. “i’m still mad at myself, it was supposed to be a cute moment, i had it all planned out! i was gonna take you to breakfast and tell you and then i even wrote you a little riddle to ask you to be my best-” she slapped her hand over her mouth. “oh fuck! i can’t believe i literally ruined it all now!”

well, wasn’t it just the cherry on top of the sundae of awful that was his life? 

not only did he have to watch the girl of his dreams get married: he literally had a front row seat at the altar. 

his head was spinning so fast he could barely think straight, the realisation that he lost her, that he lost all his chances to have her as more than a friend, that he threw away all the possibilities he had, all of this broke his heart in two. nothing he went through ever hurt him like this, nothing ever made him want to throw up, cry, scream and runaway all at once. 

he didn’t know what to say, what to feel: he knew noah was good to her and that she deserved nothing less, so why was he so angry? was he such a selfish idiot that he couldn’t even be happy for his best friend? 

“so, since it’s all out, would you be my best man?” she asked him, her eyes full of hope staring at him.

and what could he do if not say yes?

he didn’t stay long at the party after the big news blew up in his face, leaving with the excuse of being jet lagged. he tried telling noah he would drive back by himself — he really did — but the man wouldn’t stand down, saying he had drunk too much and it was not safe for him to drive in that moment.

harry would have loved nothing more than to find a string of bad qualities in him, in order to make her leave him, but there was nothing: noah was a good guy, a good friend and evidently an even better boyfriend.

asshole.

the drive back to his place was embarrassing, silent and just weird, but probably it was more for harry than for noah. once they got to his place, harry basically jumped out of the car, murmuring a low “goodnight”. 

but before driving away, noah rolled down the car window and called after him.

“hey, harry!” harry turned around, hoping this would be over soon. he went on, “i just wanted to say i’m very happy you’re back, and that i’m glad you’re her best man. she was so excited about asking you.” noah smiled. “just- thank you in advance for everything. i know you’ll be on the receiving end of her wedding planning freak outs.” he chuckled. 

harry nodded slowly, feeling emptier and emptier inside. “of course, no problem. bye.” 

noah waved and pulled up his car window. 

once the car drove away, harry rushed into his apartment, and slammed the door. 

he couldn’t help but let the tears run free, finally letting his pain overtake him. his breath was coming out in small puffs, and he couldn’t control the agonising sounds he was letting out. it felt like he was living his worst nightmare, and actually he really was.

he knew. he had known all those years, he knew she was in love with him. and he always ignored it — “for the friendship”, he told himself. and of course, he only realised his love for her when she moved on. when she found someone who loved her as much as she loved him.

maybe if i try harder to be a better person, a better friend for her. he thought.

maybe if i did something differently.

but perhaps, the best way for him to be a better friend was being there for her as her best friend and best man, and to not interfere. he would have to put his feelings aside, and accept that he had a chance — multiple ones, at that — and didn’t take it. and he didn’t really have the right to cry now that he was too late. now that he realised that this was how she must’ve felt all those years.

he stood up, and went to his half unpacked bedroom, and picked up his journal. the page was easy to find now, a picture of them signalling the pages filled with his regret. 

the ink flowed easily, and so did the tears.

“do you know what it’s like to fall in love from the outside?

and i don’t know, but i've been trying for you, for me.

now i know what it’s like to fall in love from the outside.”

—

6 months and 1 week before the day.

“i swear to god, if this shop doesn’t have a nice dress i’m getting married in sweats.”

harry laughed at her. “c’mon now, you drama queen.”

she turned to look at him, shocked at his reaction. “easy for you to say, mister. you just have to find a tux that fits or wear one you already have! i don’t happen to have a white dress with a big puffy skirt in my wardrobe, unfortunately.” 

harry smiled at her antics: this was definitely not the first freak out about the wedding. a couple of months before it was the invitations, and the debate on what shade of white was the best one to pick. harry got a bunch of smacks to his head because he couldn’t see the difference between a pearly white and a less pearly white. shocking.

saying she was stressed was a huge understatement, she could plan everything till the last detail, but you never know how many things could go wrong: you could lose your veil, the flowers may not be delivered, the dress could get stained… so many things he couldn’t have control on and it was driving her crazy.

and now, the next mission was finding the right dress. all the ones she had tried on were either too big, too small, too sexy, too modest, or made her look like a meringue. and the stress was getting to her, because she had been more whiny than usual and she could cry at the idea of trying on yet another dress. 

but there was one last shop they had to look at, and she hoped it would be where she could find the dress of her dreams. 

the shop was filled to the brim with white gowns, and harry was praying to god they would find the dress. he was sat down on one of those comfy sofas, two older ladies following the bride-to-be in the changing room, getting her ready for him to see the dresses.

she came out and from the look on her face, harry could tell she was most definitely not amused, but refrained from talking her thoughts out loud so not to make the shop assistants feel bad. 

“we’ll be right over, dear. just call us if or when you want to try on another dress.” the woman on her right gave her arm a light squeeze, and walked away with her colleague. 

she turned around to look at harry, shoulders slumped, a frown on her face.

“i look awful, don’t i?”

you never do, he thought. “why do you say that?” he said.

“it’s all wrong: the skirt is wrong, the neckline isn’t good, i hate the way my arms look in this, it’s just- ugh.” she sighed. 

harry could see how she was getting worked up, so he told her what he always did whenever she was going crazy about the wedding: “hey, take a deep breath. c’mon.” he did the exercise with her. “breathe in - 1, 2, 3, 4. keep it in - 1, 2, 3, 4. and, breathe out - 1, 2, 3, 4. that’s it, keep going.”

she did this a couple more times, and she could feel herself calm down. 

“oof- okay. i think i’m ready to try on a couple more dresses. would you mind calling the ladies for me?”

“of course. go back in there, i’ll be right here.” he squeezed her hand, and went to find the shop assistants.

after trying three more dresses, she was tired and mostly disappointed. she just wanted to get over with this dress hunt, so after the third failure, she turned to harry. “okay, i’m done. i’m getting out of this and i wanna go home.”

harry nodded. “okay, whatever you want.. but may i propose something?” he inquired. “can i see if i can find a dress for you? just- give me five minutes, and if you don’t like it we’ll be on our way. okay?”

“mmh. okay.”

so off he went. 

and boy, did he found a dress. he knew he hit the jackpot, and couldn’t wait to see how she looked in it. almost jumping on the couch from the excitement, he patiently waited.

she was definitely worth the wait. 

it was a bit bigger, and he knew she’d want to make some alterations, but he also knew there wasn’t a dress more perfect for her. 

she was beaming with joy. a smile so big it must’ve hurt her cheeks, but she didn’t care. that was the dress.

up until she saw the price tag.

“goddamn, styles, did you really have to find it in the priciest part of the shop?” she exclaimed and harry looked confused, so she continued. “i couldn’t get this dress in my wildest dreams! it’s too much.”

harry stood up and went to stand behind her, in front of the mirror, and put his hands on her shoulders. “i’m sure if you cut a little on some things, you can afford this. god, i would even pay for what you can’t pay yourself. just- look at you. you’re beautiful.” he looked at her eyes reflecting on the mirror, and saw the darker pinkish shade that coloured her cheeks. 

“i do look nice, don’t i?” she scrunched her nose and smiled. 

“plenty nice.” harry smiled back.

and so the dress was found, at last. she talked to the store ladies for the alterations and such, and afterwards harry walked her home.

“thank you, H. i can’t believe you found my dress!”

“hey, my last name is “styles” after all, isn’t it?”

she looked at him, jaw dropped. “jesus christ, that was worse than your knock knock jokes.” 

harry went back to his apartment, ready to finally let his walls down and stop pretending seeing her in that white dress wasn’t making him want to die. 

“god, what a mess.”

the rest of the day went by, he was just about to make dinner when the doorbell rang. he wasn’t expecting company, but maybe it was his 83-year-old neighbour needing something. 

he went to open the door, and he wasn’t expecting to find his best friend standing there, her face stained with tears, makeup running down from her eyes.

“may i come in?” she murmured, voice broken. harry felt his knees buckle, all he wanted was to hug her and make her problems go away. but that was the thing; what had happened to reduce her to this state?

harry moved to the side. “of course, please.”

she made her way into his home, so warm, so familiar. she asked him if she could go to the restroom to freshen up, so now he was waiting for her in his bedroom, as always when they had to talk over things. 

once she came into his view, he saw that her cheeks were still flushed, her nose red and her make up still a bit smudged. he pat the bed and silently invited her to sit down, so she could talk about whatever was wrong. 

she sat down and kept quiet for a couple of minute, until the silent tears began streaming once again. 

“god, i’m so sorry.” she sniffled. “i must seem so ridiculous right now.”

harry shook his head. “no, no, absolutely not. just- what happened?” did something happen with noah? was she safe?

“it’s nothing with noah, that i can tell you. or i don’t know, maybe it is at some capacity. it’s just-” she sighed, and closed her eyes in order not to break down again. “i’m a bit overwhelmed, i guess? the dress shop called to tell me that they’d have the dress back in a couple of weeks so i could go in and try it. and while i should be ecstatic about that, all i felt was anxiety: i couldn’t breathe and i was thinking that maybe this was all happening too fast and that perhaps it’s better to call off all of this and just reschedule it.” she took a deep breath, and added lowly. “or maybe just call it off for good.”

harry’s mind was spinning, this was his chance, to swoop in and get the girl. 

but he didn’t want to. because it wasn’t right, to her first and foremost. but also to him, because if she wanted to be with him, to really be with him, she had to be in the right state of mind. 

plus, he would never, ever do something this manipulating to anyone, especially not her. 

“i see. uhm- i, i don’t really know what to say.” he paused, while she wiped her eyes, getting makeup all over her hands and around her eyes. “i just want you to know that i’m always here for you, and that if you change your mind i’ll be the one driving the getaway car.” he tried to make a joke, and he succeeded in making her crack a smile through the tears. “i want you to be sure of what you do, whether it’s getting married, rescheduling or calling it off. and i also want you to know that getting cold feet is absolutely normal before any big change. and god, this is a huge one.” 

“it’s just- what if it’s not what i want it to be, what i want my marriage to look like? what if it all changes?” she inquired.

“why would it change? it’s just a title, instead of boyfriend and girlfriend, you’ll be husband and wife. you can see it as just that, if that’s what makes you worry.”

“but what if i’m not enough for him? what if he’s not enough for me? what if we end up resenting each other down the line?” she sniffled and accidentally wiped her hands on his sheets, leaving a trail of makeup in its wake. “fuck, i’m sorry. damn it.”

“don’t worry about that.” harry smiled softly. “as for the rest, i’m not sure i’m the guy you should be talking to right now. i’m not married-” and i’m not the one you’re marrying, he wanted to add. “but i know that communication is the key in relationships, and even if it’s hard at times, it’s the right thing to do. who knows, maybe noah is having the same doubts? maybe he’s scared as well and doesn’t know if he should or should not talk to you about it?” 

she seemed to sober up little by little, understanding that harry was right, that she needed to talk to noah and work it all through with him, no matter the outcome. so she nodded, and agreed with harry. “yeah, yeah you’re right, i should talk it over with noah. i’m sorry for all of this.” she breathed a smile. “god, i’m such a mess.”

“hey, none of that. it’s fine and absolutely normal to have doubts, i’m glad you came to me.” he smiled. “want me to walk you home?”

“no, no, i drove here, i’m good.” she looked up to him, opened her ams and took him in a hug. once her face was right next to his ear, she said softly “you really are my best man, do you know that?” 

not good enough to be the one you want to spend your life with, clearly. “thanks.”

night came and enveloped his room, but sleep refused to close his eyes: harry was twisting and turning, scared of the future for the first time in his life. it was all getting so close, too close and too fast. he wasn’t ready to lose her, he wasn’t ready to wave goodbye any future they could have had together.

he wasn’t ready, and yet did nothing to change it. the only thing he did was picking up that damn journal, and adding to the lines he had already written. 

“that nice dress in my wildest dreams,

lipstick stains you left still on my sheets.”

—

2 months and 6 days before the day.

“what about shots?” 

“yeah!” various voices exclaimed. 

“god, no.”

“harry, i planned this bachelorette party two months early because i didn’t want to be hangover close to the wedding. c’mon old man!” she tugged his arm to make him stand up and accompany her to the bar, and harry scoffed.

“can’t believe i have to force you to do shots, it was always the way around.” she huffed while struggling to guide him to the bar.

harry laughed through his nose. “that was because we were younger. you’re gonna hate yourself tomorrow morning, and i’m gonna hate you too if you force me to drink my body weight.”

“okay grandpa.” she said in a deep voice, mocking his accent. 

so, shots they did. god, so many shots.

they were giggling like teenagers, as if they were back to their college days.

she had missed the feeling, and harry couldn’t not feel the same.

they couldn’t talk without laughing every two sentences, and each others laugh made the other laugh even harder, and so it became an endless cycle of hysterical laughter that didn’t let them breathe. 

“so, bride to be,” harry slurred, dopey smile adorning his face. “how are we feeling about the big day?”

she took another shot, squinted her eyes from the burn, and answered, voice as slurred as his. “we are feeling good right now.” she laughed. “very good. i’m happy.” 

“good, good.” harry nodded, his voice unconvincing.

“hey, look at me.” she grabbed his chin and turned his face to face her. “are you-” she stopped, and stared at him for a second. “god, you have amazing eyes, you know that?” 

harry laughed and squinted his eyes, “okay, now i’m sure you’re wasted.” he tore himself away from her hands, even if he didn’t want to. 

“heyyyy, am not!” she said, faking offence. “what makes you say that?”

“because, silly, you always used to say that when we were partying in college. once you said i had “amazing eyes”, i knew it was time to take you home.” 

“aw, look at you, knowing all about me.” she singsonged. “you’re the best of friends, you know that?” she grinned. “any man, woman, anyone would be lucky to have you by their side, bub. i mean it.” 

harry smiled, but his heart sunk a little. 

yeah, anyone. anyone, but you.

“thank you, darling. no more drinks for you, though.”

“aw, you’re such a buzzkill.” she whined. “maybe just another one? just one, i promise!”

getting home was hard, knowing he was gonna be alone was even harder. only his journal was waiting for him, laying on the opposite side of his bed, the words already ready to fill up those pages.

“when i hear “amazing eyes”,

it breaks my heart evеry time.”

—

3 weeks and 2 days before the day.

“hey! come on in.” harry stepped aside to let her make her way in. “and you brought chinese food!”

“yeah well, i figured you’d be hungry.” she came in, left the food onto the kitchen table and started taking her coat off. “and i also had to bribe you with something for the favour i need to ask you.” 

harry took her coat and her scarf and went to place it on his bed. “of course you’d be nice to me just because you need something.” he scoffed. “what a friend you are.”

“hey, it’s not true! i’m always nice to you, but i really need help and we both know you’re the one who has a better way with words between the two of us.”

harry came back to the kitchen, where she was setting the table. the scene looked and felt so domestic, so homey. so heartbreakingly familiar. “and how would you know?”

she laughed while opening up the containers. “are you kidding? i always saw you writing in that worn leather journal in school. maybe it was your diary, but i wouldn’t know because /someone/ would never let me read anything from it.” 

“that’s because you’re nosy and that journal is private.” he grabbed the plates. “c’mon now, i’m starving. we can talk about what you need help with while we eat.”

so, apparently what she needed help with was writing her wedding vows.

her fucking wedding vows.

harry almost choked on his food when she spoke. 

“your-” he gulped. “your wedding vows?” 

help with your promises, your deepest declarations of love for a man with whom you’re gonna spend your life? a man who’s gonna wake up to you every morning while i become the sad uncle to your beautiful children? really?

“yeah! i’m desperate, i wouldn’t have asked you if i wasn’t in deep shit right now. i’m going crazy and the wedding is getting close and i don’t know what to do other than beg for your help, so please, please-” she was getting worked up. 

she had tried to do that by herself, she really did: she just couldn’t put any words down, not any that sounded good anyway. which is why harry was her last resort, she knew he was modest, but he had a way with words. 

his good looks got him with people through college, yes, but the boy was a smooth talker. people were drawn to him by the looks, but they were truly captured by his words. 

so, who better then the guy she used to have a crush on for years to help her write her promises to her future husband? yeah, the situation was desperate.

“uhm.” harry scratched the back of his head. how the hell was he supposed to help her with such a thing? “i- i just don’t know if-”

“hey, it’s fine if you don’t want to. i can just try to look up on the internet.” she smiled, not a real smile. “i just- i guess i wanted them to be special. and it kills me i can’t do this by myself.” she shrugged, as if it didn’t matter, but harry could see how much this thing made her sad. 

“no, uhm- it’s okay. i think we can work on something.”

as soon as he said those words, she smiled big, and harry knew he made the right choice. “thank you so much, harry. thank you. you have no idea how much this means to me.” 

so now they were on the couch, brainstorming ideas. 

“so, i said you want the vows to be more personal, obviously. so maybe, something about what you did together? like, what about your first date?”

“oh yeah, it was nice! i invited him over to make some brownies for maddie’s birthday party, do you remember?” did he remember? he fucking suggested it. they would always bake the cakes, or any sweets, for their friends’ birthdays, but that day he was busy — had a date with a person he wanted to go out with for so long, and it ended up being mind-blowingly boring  — so he suggested she invites noah over to help her out. 

and then that was it.

he still would curse himself for that stupid idea, for suggesting that date, for suggesting a thing that was usually just for the two of them as a date with another person. he was jealous, incredibly so, and he just wished she had him in his mind whenever he thought about that date. he was selfish, and he knew that, but that’s what anger and envy brings you to do. 

“yeah, i remember.” he nodded. “then maybe you can write down about that.”

“i remember how we ended up making the brownies all too runny.” she laughed. “and i had more flour in our hair than the one we ended up using for the baking. it was such a lovely date.” still smiling, she looked up to him. “it kinda made me remember how we used to bake for our friends, we’d always make it end in a food fight. it was so fun.”

harry nodded, a bit cocky in knowing that what he wanted — for her to remember him when she thought about that first date. “i bet it was.” 

they went on, sharing ideas and lines back and forth, until she could see harry’s eyes closing. “okay H, time for me to leave you alone and make you go to sleep. let me just help you with the stuff in the kitchen.” she stood up and went towards the kitchen, but harry grabbed her wrist to stop her.

“hey no, leave it there: i’ll tidy up tomorrow morning, i’m just to tired right now. i just wanna go to sleep.”

tilting her head to the side, she looked at him softly. “okay, okay. goodnight sleepy head, i’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

“nighty night. can you lock the door please?” 

“of course, harry. go to bed now, you’re spent!”

harry was tired, yes. physically, of course, but emotionally? he was tired on another level, he couldn’t stand talking about their vows a second longer. he felt like he was gonna be sick, pass out or die if they did, so he kinda exaggerated his tiredness, so that this could be over and he could just drown himself in his sadness and pain. 

as soon as she was out the door, and he heard her walking away, he let himself break down. he got up from the couch, tears staining his cheeks, trying so hard to catch a breath between all the sobs. this was killing him, ever so slowly. 

he walked into his room, turning on the lights and noticed her coat and scarf was still there. he thought about texting her about it, but he couldn’t even see straight: he was not okay. he had not been in a while, and it was getting so much worse with everyday the wedding got closer, and he doesn’t know what to do with himself. he wanted to scream, he wanted to put his fist through the wall, to let the world know that he wasn’t okay with what was happening, that it wasn’t right, not in the slightest; he knew he was late, he knew. but why couldn’t he have one last chance? just one chance. 

“fuck.” he sobbed. “fuck this.”

the venomous words wrote themselves on the page, adding to the long list of words that described all the regret, the jealousy, the anger that was boiling in him. 

“i don’t want to hear about him,

and these songs you continue to write.

i was with you when you wrote that line,

it was me that you had on your mind.”

.

harry woke up to the sound of his doorbell, his mouth dry and his eyes puffy, he didn’t even realise he fell asleep. shaking himself awake, he looked around the room before hearing the doorbell once again.

he grunted in response, and got up to see who could be looking for him at— well, he didn’t even know what time it was. was it morning already?

“hey, sleepyhead! god, i wore you out last night, huh?” she laughed, while making her way in. “oh my, the kitchen is a mess! do you need help?” 

harry was a bit dumbfounded, still half asleep. “wh-what are you doing here?” he cleared his throat. “did we have plans or-”

“oh no! no, i just came by to pick up my coat. i realised yesterday once i was home but didn’t want to come back and wake you up, so i thought it would be better if i came by this morning. didn’t think i’d end up waking you up.” she laughed. “can i go get it?”

he nodded, “yeah, yeah, of course. i’ll make some coffee. want some?”

“as if i’d ever say no.” she smiled and walked away.

once she entered the bedroom, she understood that she literally dragged him out of bed to open the door: the bed was all messed up, and the state of his hair and face clearly showed that he hadn’t even brushed his teeth. 

she looked around a little, finally finding her coat and her scarf on the dresser, near the window. since she was in there, she decided to tidy up a little, open the windows, change the air. 

while she was making the bed, she saw something familiar coking out from under the pillow. could it really be…? yes, it was: the untouchable journal.

she was shocked: never once in her life did she got so close to that book without harry tearing it away from her sight before she could even get a closer glimpse. she didn’t want to invade his privacy, she just wanted to look at the outside of it: she saw that there were little scribbles on the cover, made with a black pen, words, stars, doodles. it’s all so harry, she thought. 

but then, one thing caught her attention: they were photo-booth pictures, depicting two youngsters, smiling and making silly faces at the camera. harry had his hair a bit longer, she would call him “prince harry” at that stage: he was making a kissy face to the camera, and she was beside him, smiling deeply and looking at him with nothing but pure love; this was taken when she hadn’t met noah yet, and there was no one else on her mind. she remembers harry dragging her into the booth. they were going around shopping, looking for a new shirt for harry and a new outfit for her to wear at their graduation, when harry caught sight of the machine. he stopped in his tracks and grabbed her wrist, making a million of butterflies bat their wings in her stomach. 

“we always take a million pictures but never print them! we always say we will but we never get around to do that, so now i have the perfect solution.”

and when could she ever say no to him?

she smiled looking at the picture at the top, reminiscing those days. she decided to open the journal, just to see the other pictures under the top one: one with harry sticking his tongue out, another one with her making bunny ears behind his head, and the last one was her favourite, of course. harry grabbed her chin and planted a wet kiss on her cheek, making her turn a bright red. she remembers how flustered she was by that touch, and how she felt like she was walking on air for the rest of the day.

her cheeks warmed at the memory, smiling at the silliness of teenage feelings, but she cherished the memory of them the most. 

she couldn’t believe harry kept it all those years, she thought he would’ve lost it by then, with the movings and everything. 

while she was going to close the book, her eyes dropped to the words scribbled on those pages.

at the top of the page, written in uppercase, three letters, underlined: him. 

she knew it was wrong, she knew it was a violation of his privacy and that he would have any right to hate her, but her curiosity got the best of her and she ended up starting reading the rest of the words, of what she soon realised was a poem, or a song.

“no fucking way.” she smiled. “that’s so cool.”

she read the first four lines, frowning at the somber tone of the lyrics. what was he apologising for? 

she kept reading and reading, her heart sinking more and more into her chest, the realisation of what was going on hitting her like a truck. no, it couldn’t be. it couldn’t.

“that nice dress in my wildest dreams, lipstick stains you left still on my sheets.” she read out loud. “no, no, what-” but she went on, she couldn’t stop now. 

“when i hear ‘amazing eyes’, it breaks my heart evеry time?” her breath was shallow, her eyes misty. “what the fuck is-”

“hey darling, are you okay? you’ve been in here a whi-” harry’s voice died in his throat at the sight of his best friend white as if she had seen a ghost, holding his most precious possession, the air abandoning his lungs. shit.

she gulped, and didn’t tear her eyes away from the page, her voice low. “harry, what- what is this?” her hands were shaking.

harry was speechless, mind blank, not a thought going in his brain. he didn’t know what to say or do, aside being slightly defensive. “what are you doing reading my book?” he uttered, voice raspy.

“i didn’t mean to,” she murmured, still not looking at him. “i just picked it up to put it on your nightstand, but i saw the pictures of us inside and opened it, to get a better look at the picture and that was supposed to be it.” she inhaled deeply, calming herself. “before i found what you wrote.” and then, she finally looked up at him. her eyes were bloodshot, her cheeks red. he didn’t like the sight of it. and he didn’t like what came after. “please, tell me the truth.” she pleaded. “is this about me? about me and.. and my relationship?” 

“what? no, it’s not-” he tried lying, pathetically, making her shake her head and read straight from his journal.

“i was with you when you wrote that line, it was me that you had in your mind?” she read almost whispering. “‘that line’- oh my fucking god, my wedding vows? you wrote this stuff last night.” she looked at him with a look he had never seen before, not towards him at least: pure disappointment, shock, disbelief. her voice was barely a whisper, as if all the air had been sucked out the room. “harry, i’m getting married in a fucking month. you’re my fucking best man, what the fuck-” she raised her head toward the ceiling, her hands covering her eyes. 

harry murmured lowly. “i’m sorry. i’m so sorry, i can’t even-”

“since when?”

harry hoped he didn’t understand what she meant. “what?” 

“since when have you been writing this. since when have you been having feelings for me.” she said, her voice raising slightly.

“i-i don’t think it matters right now, honest-”

“oh, but it does.” she smiled, a sarcastic smile, tears falling silently down her cheeks. “it does matter, because it will make me understand what kind of feelings we’re talking about. tell me.”

harry stayed quiet, not daring opening up his mouth, because he knew what she would be thinking if he told her that he fell for her only after she got with noah. and that the passive aggressive decision to move to another country without telling her was all dictated by his jealousy. he knew she would hate him as soon as he told her that, as soon as she realised he was just a boy, a kid that would get jealous if anyone was to touch his toys. 

he felt ashamed, so ashamed of those being the circumstances in which he found out about his feelings, but they were so far from that now: he loved her, like a man would love another person, not like a teenage boy does.

apparently, he didn’t need to reply, because she already knew the answer. she scoffed, drying her tears. “oh, so it was after i met noah, then. let me guess, around the time you were ready to flee the country without telling me?” she asked bitterly. 

harry didn’t know what to say, aside from apologising, again and again, head hanging low. “i’m sorry.”

“you knew.” she pointed her finger towards him. “you knew i loved you, you did and you always played with my feelings. “‘do you know what’s like to fall in love from the outside’? are you fucking serious? do i know? i was in love with you for years and i always pretended you didn’t know, but i know you did, anyone could see it. and you never did something to let me know if you wanted more or if you didn’t want me that way, you’d always want me to stay in between, huh?” her smile was chilling. harry had never seen her like this, and those words were like knives going straight through his heart. he knew the truth was hard to face, but this was something else. he thought that dying would hurt less. “i can’t fucking believe this, it’s too much, i- i have to leave.”

harry shook his head vigorously, placing himself in front of the door. “no, please, don’t leave.” 

she stopped in front of him, shaking her head no. “let me leave. i don’t have anything to say to you.”

“but i do-”

“i don’t care, harry. i don’t fucking care about what you have to say now, because now it’s too late! you had years, years to tell me, and you didn’t even have the balls to say something to me, i had to find out you wrote a fucking song about me and noah three weeks before my wedding day.” she looked up at him, brows furrowed. “don’t you see how everything is messed up now? do you really not realise it?” she closed her eyes and took a deep breath, before pronouncing the last sentence harry would hear from her. “i really don’t care about what you have to say now. move out of the way.”

he did. the sound of the door slamming shut was almost as loud as his heart shattering in a million pieces. 

he collapsed on his knees, head hanging low, guttural sobs ripping out of his chest. 

on the other side of the door, she was in the same state, sat in her car, hitting the steering wheel, wishing she could slap Fate in its face, for this sad joke it made. how was this fair? how could they recover from this? most importantly, would they be able to recover from this? 

harry couldn’t remember a time he felt so desperate, so angry, so sad, so all over the place. all the plates that were out on the table were now smashed on the ground, angry tears leaving their trail on his face, his knuckles bruised from the punch he gave the wall. 

“fuck!” he screamed, after the hit. the tears of pain mixed with the ones of sadness, the ones that were testament of the fact that he knew it was all over. all the friendship, all the love was gone. there was nothing to rebuild, there was nothing he could do. 

it was over. there was no coming back from this.

—

4 days before the day.

her sister’s phone ringed with a new message.

“Hi, it’s Harry. I’m sorry if this is last minute, but I cannot come to the wedding. Hope everything is going well.”

her sister looked at the bride to be, doing her last dress check: she looked amazing. she was so happy, so smiley, glowing: harry being there would’ve ruined it, she knows that. but still, she couldn’t believe her sister wasn’t marrying that curly headed boy she was so smitten of. she always thought they’d end up together, someday. especially after she knew he was into her as much as she was.

“everything okay?” the bride asked her sister. “did one of the caterers say something is wrong?” she nodded towards her phone.

she shook her head. “no, no. everything’s fine. you look beautiful.” she smiled. “noah is a lucky man.”

—

the wedding day.

the church was packed with people: friends, family, coworkers, everyone who was ready to celebrate the new life of the happy couple. everything looked so festive, flowers all around: she chose sunflowers, like he knew she would’ve. the day was bright, as if the sky itself wanted to be at its best for her, for her big day, because nature knew she deserved nothing else. 

the last guests hurried themselves in and took their seats, everyone buzzing about seeing the bride walk in. noah was up at the end of the altar, his brother putting his hands on his shoulder and smiling at him, trying to come up with a joke to make him less anxious. noah laughed a bit, still very much anxious, but also happy: today was the start of their new life together, him and the girl of his dreams. this was the best day of his life, and he wished it would never end. 

she could see the church from the car window, and squeezed her sister’s hand as a reaction: the day was here. it was a long time coming, but she couldn’t be happier. 

well, maybe she could, but she won’t think about that today. not today, not ever. today was the beginning of a new life, full of love and safety. 

her sister turned around and smiled at her, squeezing her hand back three times. once they were parked, the maid of honour got out of the car, and noah’s heart jumped in his throat. it was really happening.

the june sun shimmered down her gown, making her look ethereal. an angel walked into the church and was then walking down the aisle, heading towards her future, with the man she loved more than anyone in the world.

and the man who was too late stood at the end of the church, hidden from her. 

he couldn’t be away, he couldn’t bring himself to miss out on her big day, no matter how painful it may be for him. so he stood at the far end, hidden from everyone. 

when she stepped foot in the church, his breath hitched. he had never seen anyone that beautiful before, she was glowing: even from where he was standing, harry could see the way her eyes were filled with emotional tears, the wavering smile displayed on her lips. she was breathtaking, and so utterly happy. 

it broke his heart.

he saw everything he had lost by being so arrogant, so blind, so oblivious, such an idiot for not realising sooner that she was the one, that she was the only person he wanted by his side. and now, he was watching every step she took away from him, towards the life he knew she deserved.

the life he knew he could’ve given her, if he didn’t mess up his chance. 

chances, even. he had so many of them, and he blew them away because he was scared.

now his life was gonna be filled with regrets, and that was his own fault, there was no one else.

while he watched the couple exchange their eternal promises to each other, he saw her sister glancing at him, giving him a timid smile, as if she knew he couldn’t be there for a second longer, that he couldn’t wait there to see them go out from that church and beginning their new journey. harry nodded back at her, and quietly made his way out of the church from the second entrance, the one he used to make his way in without being noticed.

he got in his car, and drove. he didn’t even know to where he was heading towards, but that didn’t matter. nothing did anymore.

“is he holding you better at night?

is it me running into your mind?

i still think about you all the time.”

—

soooo, this is it! i absolutely loved writing this story, i cried A LOT but it was very much worth it. some stories just don’t have the ending we wish they had, and that’s okay: some stories need a sad ending. i love you all! please let me know your thoughts under the post or in my asks! <3

taglist: @harrysonlylover @that-daydream-look @neverstaisfied

[daycarefriendpickup]

What a time it has been!

I think we’re going to move these updates to Thursdays to allow people some more time to get their pictures finished up!

So without further ado- allow me to present… Friday! 🎉🎉🎉

Starring some very talented work from:

@asriel20asi

@thatmooncake

@flinxypie

@sipnoot

@hotjester

@tunetourmoline

@pineconecrows

@itsahotminuteinbetween

@dark-bakura1

@aquacomet

@lec743

As always, if you’re wrongly tagged or haven’t been tagged, let me know ✨

[icedragonlizard]

Headcanon: 'Star Allies Conferences' exist, and there are rules to follow in them

After the events of Star Allies, this group doesn't completely disband. While they've gone back to living their usual lives, there are periodical meetings that they attend to about 4 times a year. One per season.

These conferences take place in Planet Popstar's biggest country, Dream Land. In some parts of Dream Land, there are castle-like buildings that are similar to King Dedede's castle, and those buildings are the locations for the meetings. The meetings alternate between the buildings, so two meetings don't happen in one building in a row.

The purpose of these meetings is to see how everyone is doing, as well as whatever major events in the universe might be happening that may be worth everyone's attention. Who knows, it's not impossible that there could be a future threat as big as Void Termina that could warrant the star allies to band together to take it down, which is another reason why the group doesn't completely disband.

Kirby himself, of course, is assigned to attend these gatherings.

There are rules to follow in these conferences. The purpose of these rules is to ensure that the events go smoothly, and that everyone can be allowed to get through and leave the event without trouble.

King Dedede is in charge of the conferences, and thus he's the one that enforces the rules. He makes sure that the events go as smoothly as possible. The star allies won't be alone in the events, as there will also be several waddle dees from Dedede's castle that will attend. Should a star ally break a rule without stopping, Dedede can and will ask the waddle dees to escort that star ally out of the room. This headcanon is based on Dedede's line of "I'll be the one to keep the peace!"

Without further ado, let's go over the rules for these conferences:

(Keep reading tag because there's a lot of rules)

-No swear words allowed. Kirby is in the meetings, and the pink kid doesn't want to hear swear words, so please don't swear.

-Please don't talk about caterpillars. Kirby is scared of caterpillars, as even just talking about them can freak him out. So don't do it.

-No fights allowed. It is understandable that not all of the star allies get along with each other, but please refrain from fighting, regardless if verbal or physical. We need to let everyone have a chance to get through the event without having struggles with anyone else.

-Don't encourage fights to happen. We're mostly looking at Marx here, who tends to do that as he loves chaos. Please don't do that.

-Taranza and Dark Meta Knight are not allowed to interact or be near each other under ANY circumstance. The reason why this rule exists is because everyone knows that it's impossible to have these two near each other without carnage breaking loose. It is completely understandable that Taranza is blood-lusted over the fact that DMK had involvement in Queen Sectonia's corruption, but we can't have bloodshed in these conferences. This rule is also for the sake of Taranza's mental health, since we're concerned that it would be bad for him to consistently interact with DMK, hence why we try to enforce separation between the two even outside of meetings.

-It is not recommended for either Susie or Dark Meta Knight to be near Meta Knight. This isn't quite as severe as the Taranza and DMK bad blood, but Meta Knight would still feel rather uncomfortable if standing too close to either Susie or DMK, so it'd be for the best to not put him in that kind of situation during these meetings.

-It is best to not have Bandana Waddle Dee be near Marx, Magolor, Taranza, Susie, Dark Meta Knight and the Mage Sisters. We're well aware that you still hate all of them, Bandee. Please don't continue to accuse them of their past deeds, alright? Just let them be.

-Marx is not allowed to provoke anybody in these conferences. This rule exists because Marx is infamous for being a pain in the rear that loves to start stuff with others. Please behave in these meetings, Marx. Fortunately, we're aware that Magolor, Coo, Rick and Kine generally do a good enough job of supervising Marx and keeping him in check. If it's imperative for one of them to keep him under control at all times during a meeting, then please do it.

-Daroach is not allowed to steal anything from anyone. Obviously we can't stop Daroach from being a thief altogether, but please hold on to your thievery during these meetings. We don't need to have someone be upset because you stole something from them.

-The Mage Sisters are not allowed to try to indoctrinate anyone into their Jambastion religion. While we understand that you take pride in your religion and that you'd like to expand it elsewhere, the other star allies don't want to be indoctrinated, so don't push them.

-Don't ask Meta Knight or Dark Meta Knight about their faces behind their masks. It makes them cagey. They don't want to talk about it. It could cause DMK in particular to end up snapping.

-Magolor, let's not promote Merry Magoland or your other products. There may be times where you'll asked to talk about your stuff, and at that point it's okay, but don't bring up if you aren't asked to. The purpose of these meetings isn't to promote your stuff.

-Susie, let's not promote the Haltmann Works Company. We certainly appreciate that you've been shifting that company into a better direction to now be helping people with your technology instead of harming them, and it's fine to talk about it when we ask you to. But don't talk about it when you're not asked to. We don't need to have these meetings be overran by campaigning the HWC.

-Ribbon, let's try to not be possessive over Kirby. We know that you like him quite a bit, but if he wants to hang out with other star allies in the conference, then please let him. There may be times in conferences where he comes to you, so you'll get your moments, ok?

-Don't send art requests to Adeleine during these meetings. Inherently, that in of itself isn't bad, but we want her to feel like she can easily get through these meetings without feeling overwhelmed by art requests. So please just let her be, alright?

-Don't talk about the mirror world. Taranza still holds a grudge against the mirror world as a whole because of Sectonia's corruption, and talking about the mirror world might also make Dark Meta Knight cagey unless he chooses to allow the discussion to happen.

-If someone isn't a part of the star allies, they are NOT allowed to attend. This goes for the Mage Sisters to please stop inviting your lord Hyness to the events. Daroach, don't invite your fellow squeak squad members to join these events. We've also had an incident where Rick and Kine tried to get ChuChu, Pitch and Nago to join, and we thank Coo for stopping that from happening. Don't try to convince Elfilin to join these meetings, either, since he's not a star ally. To make it crystal clear, the only ones allowed to attend are Kirby, all the dream friends, and many of King Dedede's waddle dees to help enforce the rules. Nobody else is allowed to show up.

-Please don't talk about the incidents where King Dedede has been possessed. Our great king has PTSD over all those incidents and doesn't want to talk about them, so please don't make him uncomfortable by having the nerve to bring it up. Not to mention he's in charge of these conferences, so he'll instantly shut that talk down.

-Please don't bring up the death of Queen Sectonia. You'll cause Taranza to break down if you do that. He still mourns her death, so please don't make things complicated for him by bringing it up. We want him to get through these meetings without having to cry.

-Please don't bring up the death of Max Profitt Haltmann. Doing that will make Susie very upset, as she still has grief over him. She has a temperament, and mentioning her father's death could very well end up provoking her into pulling out her gun. We don't want this to occur, so please have decency and don't talk about that subject. This also applies to talking about her past daddy issues in general.

-Please don't talk about Another Dimension during these meetings. The reason why this rule exists is because both Magolor and Susie still have PTSD over their times of being stranded there, especially Susie. We don't want to give them the feelings of old wounds reopening, so let's prevent that by not talking about that place.

-Please don't talk about the time when Hyness sucked the life force out of the Mage Sisters and used their bodies as weapons. That incident is well behind us now, and they've moved to our side. Zan Partizanne in particular will become very upset if you bring it up, so don't do it in order to prevent her from lashing out.

-Francisca is not allowed to talk about her frozen trophy collection. Girl, you're already on thin ice (no pun intended) for choosing to keep that collection even despite us not wanting you to. If you have the gall to talk about it during these conferences, you'll make others freaked out or want to hurl, and we're not going to stand for that.

-To prevent Flamberge from snapping, don't mess with Francisca. We don't need to have the flame general go into a fiery rage and burn things during these conferences, so let's not provoke her by saying or doing anything bad to her precious little sister that she protects.

-Marx is only allowed to talk about clockwork stars for educational purposes. It's fine to talk about them to let others learn more about them, but do not try to convince anyone to go to outer space to summon one. We know what you did to Kirby back in the day. Even if you don't intend to pull something like that again, it's best to not convince anyone to think up of a wish to grant to a clockwork star.

-Don't talk about the Master Crown. Magolor is trying everything he can to leave that incident behind him, and bringing up that incident is going to heavily disrupt that. No need to upset him by doing that.

-Don't bring masks from Merry Magoland into these meetings. Show your true faces, please. We also don't want Taranza or Susie to feel uncomfortable because you chose to wear a Sectonia or Haltmann mask. They came to terms with those masks existing, but please don't rub it in their face. Magolor also won't approve of that.

-Francisca's soda gun is only allowed to be used in a meeting if it's to hydrate Kine. We understand that Kine is supposed to be aquatic, and although he can manage to be on land for a few hours, it could still be helpful to give him a drink. We're fine with Francisca letting him drink from her soda gun. But do not use that soda gun for any other reason whatsoever aside from letting Kine drink from it.

-Nicknames are fine, but cut it out if someone asks you to stop. Some of the star allies aren't really a fan of being called nicknames, so don't make them eventually ticked off by keeping on doing it.

-Everyone, please treat Gooey like a precious boy. Because he is. He deserves to be cherished. Give him all the headpats. King Dedede made this rule exist as he wants to project his feelings about Gooey to everyone else. Not like he can blamed for that!

That's all the rules. 30 of them! Hope you liked reading all of this. Lol, gotta make sure the star allies get through these events without trouble occuring. Obviously, without rules like this in place, there'd be problems because many of them don't get along with each other!

Unfortunately, these rules do sometimes get broken. Oof!

Thanks for reading, everyone!

[yourlocaldisneyvillain]

Hi😊 i hope you're having a nice day!

Could i request a Larissa/21-22 Student reader(young teacher if you're not comfortable writing it with a student)fic with prompts 1 and 50 please? (Smut)

R have a big crush on Larissa. One night, she was walking past Larissa's room when she heard moans, she couln'd believe what she was hearing, she stopped and decided to take a peace of paper and write #50 on it with a 💋 with her lipstic (yea she's dumb like that), not writing her name and slip it under Larissa's door and ran back to her dorm. Larissa had no idea who could've wrote that and she was very embarassed that someone heard her..yk... The next day when Larissa walked past R in the hallway, she thought she saw a weird look in R's face and then she saw the lipstic, that lipstic, and it just clicked in her head. She always thought R was a bit of a tease with her but she never thought anything about it, but now.. Larissa decided to go to R's dorm, not knowing what she would do when she'll reach it. And what she heard throught that door, she thought that maybe she could pay R back for what R has done to her.😉 She openned the door slowly so R won't hear her and closed the door behind her, then she wispered #1. And then it would end up full of smuth, you can add as many kink as you want, even toys if you like, please?😊 (was this request too specific? I hope not😕)

Thank you if you decide to write it, i really love your fics and i really wanted to ask one too! And thank you even if you don't, for reading this!💋

A way too shy anon😅

i took some liberties with your request, i hope you don't mind! i made reader a 27yo phd student and it's a non-magical au! also..... i know i was probably expected to write a short, smutty thing, but before i knew it had a plot and it was 4000+ words whoopsie please don't hesitate to leave a comment on ao3, it makes my heart sing! <3

without further ado, enjoy some larissa x reader smut :) tags: car sex, mommy kink and idk how to tag adkjfshgd

You walk through the dark, empty corridor that leads to Professor Weems’ office. Most people have retired for the evening — it’s late, way too late for an official meeting, but given that lately you’ve been getting rather friendly, you hope she will excuse the informality. You know you will probably find her there, as she often works long into the night — and you really need her help with this chapter. The deadline for your PhD is rapidly approaching and you are still nowhere near done. 

She truly is a great mentor — always happy to meet with you and answer any questions you have, ready to spend hours going through your work and analysing materials you brought her. You somehow always end up spending a lot of time together — more often than not ending up in deep and heated discussions about various subjects (that sometimes relate to your work, and sometimes don’t) after you’ve finished discussing your thesis. You feel like you could talk to her the entire day without getting tired — she is remarkably intelligent, knowledgable on many subjects — her taste in art exquisite, and her takes are often unique. She always leaves you with several book recommendations (“Read this, darling, I am very curious what you will think about it,” she usually says and writes down a title or two, “read it when you find the time for it, of course — you have a thesis to write,” she winks — you somehow always find the time, sometimes sacrificing those few precious hours of sleep). 

Larissa Weems is also very, very attractive. She is an unusual looking woman — very tall, imposing, with platinum blonde hair and a peculiar fashion sense — she dresses like a movie star from the 1940s — but she is ridiculously charismatic, expressive, charming. Her laugh is contagious, her eyes bright and sparkling — you can’t be blamed for being absolutely enamoured with her.

You thought about asking her out once you get your PhD— age difference be damned. You are a 27 year old woman — you are free to do as you please. It’s just that, well — she is your mentor,  at least for now, and even if she wasn’t, she is just way out of your league. You don’t even know if she likes women, (probably not, knowing your luck) — and if she does, there is no way she would like you (even if you did have a very interesting discussion about sapphic undertones in The Marriage of Figaro — that scene between Susanna, Countess Rosina and Cherubino is rather… sexually charged — she seemed to share your opinion).

Lately, you feel your relationship has reached a deeper level — your meetings would almost always end in a nearby bar, where you’d relax with a glass of wine and continue your conversation late into the evening. Last time, she got slightly tipsy and became rather touchy-feely (she seems to be one of those people who are get very affectionate when drunk)— putting a hand on your shoulder, brushing against your leg under the table (then immediately apologising and pulling away), and when you got back to campus, she hugged you before parting ways. You can still recall very vividly how warm and soft she was and how she smelled faintly of sweet perfume and red wine. Since then you can’t stop imagining her touch — in very inappropriate ways. You try your hardest not to get too invested, though — she is your mentor, first and foremost. 

For all those reasons, you conclude she won’t be terribly upset at you if you barge into her office at this late hour. Worst case scenario, she tells you she’s too busy right now. 

You are just about to knock on her office door when something stops you dead in your tracks — a sound.

A moan.

You stand in front of the door. You hear nothing for a couple of seconds and almost knock again, certain you’ve imagined it (because why would anyone be moaning here at this hour?), but then you hear it once more.

It’s coming from her office. Is she with someone (your heart sinks at the thought, and you immediately scoff at yourself — as if you ever had a chance)? 

You know the appropriate thing would be to leave immediately, but something keeps you there, standing in front of the door, listening. 

The moans continue, and there is no doubt about it — that is her moaning, and there is no one else with her. It’s very clear what she is doing.

You should leave, but you stand there, frozen, listening. You don’t really want to go. 

Her moans sound heavenly — they send delicious jolts straight to your core. You can’t help but wish you were the one making her moan. 

Later, when you get back to your room, you don’t know what possessed you to do what you did. Might have been sleep deprivation, caffeine overdose, or lack of proper meals from days of working on your thesis non-stop, might be that she is the most attractive woman you have ever had the pleasure of knowing and her moans were just too much for your tired brain to handle — but you take a piece of paper out of your notebook and write a very inappropriate thing on it.

I thought your laugh was the prettiest sound in the world. I was wrong — it's your moans.

You stare at the note for a couple of seconds. The moans coming from her office are getting louder — she must be getting close to… 

…your brain short-circuits at the thought.

Without thinking, you place a kiss on the piece of paper, leaving a coral-coloured lip-print on it. 

Inside her office, Professor Weems keens. 

You slip the paper underneath her door and run back to your room. 

You continue working through the night, falling asleep on your desk around 5am. You wake up at 8, and by then the whole episode feels like it might have been a fever dream.

You still need her help with the chapter, however, so you send her en email asking if she could squeeze you into her schedule today. You get an answer almost immediately.

I am terribly busy today, but I could see you during lunch break. We could eat out together and go over the chapter, if you’d like. Please send it to me beforehand so I can read through it and make notes! :-) 

Sent from my iPhone

(You find her boomer smileys very endearing.)

You try your best not to think about last night’s events. You are lucky she can’t recognise your handwriting, given that you always write everything on your laptop. 

You steal an hour of sleep, take a shower and put on some lipstick and mascara before leaving to meet her at cafeteria for lunch. If you’re lucky, you will succeed at pretending last night never happened.

You are not lucky.

You can’t stop staring at her mouth as she talks, as she chews her lunch, imagining all types of lewd sounds coming from it. It’s downright erotic, the way her lips move — no one should look that sexy chewing food.

“Darling? Are you with me?” she asks, making you snap out of your inappropriate daydream.

“Hm? Yeah, I’m sorry, I’m just a bit spacey today,” you answer, embarrassed, wondering if she caught onto your staring.

“How many hours of sleep have you gotten in the last couple of days, darling?”

“Uhm… in the last three days, I think I got about ten hours combined.”

“You really should take better care of yourself.”

“I know, but there’s just so much work to be done,” you sigh. “Is it supposed to be this hard to get your PhD?”

Professor Weems chuckles (the loveliest sound). “I’m sorry to inform you that it is — at least if you want to do it properly.”

“How was it for you? When you were getting your PhD, I mean? It’s hard for me to imagine you going around disheveled and sleep deprived. You always look so put together.”

“Ah, darling, it’s one of the perks of reaching a certain age — you can finally afford some of life’s little luxuries, such as sleeping six to eight hours a nigh. However, I absolutely did go around disheveled and sleep deprived. I was living off of caffeine and salted crackers — I was a rather pitiful sight. I’m glad I did it, but I’d never go back.”

“So you’re telling me life is easy in your forties?” you tease.

“I said easier, not easy. I do still get terribly stressed about things. I was rather stressed yesterday, as a matter of fact. I have so many things to do today, and I will be working late again.”

“And what do you do to relieve the stress?” you ask before you can stop yourself. You know very well what she did yesterday to relieve the stress.

“Oh, this and that. Usually I watch something that takes my mind off work.”

(“Porn?” you think.)

“I think we should get going though, darling — lunch break is almost over. Let me just fix my makeup,” she says and pulls her signature red lipstick and a compact mirror out of her bag. She fixes the edges of her lipstick expertly.

“Do you need to fix your lipstick, darling?” she asks, handling you the mirror.

“Oh, I might, actually. Thanks.”

Only when you’re done fixing your makeup and you hand the mirror back to her do you realise she has just watched you put on the same lipstick you used to leave a lip-print on that wildly inappropriate note you slipped under her door. 

You look at her, your stomach twisting with anxiety, searching for any sign of recognition on her face.

Her face is unreadable, but you wonder if she holds eye contact with you a little longer and a little more intensely than usual. You might just be imagining things, though — you are terribly sleep deprived.

“Thank you, darling,” she says, giving you a bright smile. “Shall we?”

The cafeteria door is a bit narrow, so you step back to let her pass first, but she puts a hand on your waist and gently pushes you past her. Your shoulder brushes against her as you do so. Being this close to her makes your heart beat faster and your limbs turn to jelly.

You look up at her (she is so tall). She’s smiling at you. It’s a bright, toothy smile that makes your insides melt and your brain become mush. 

“I will be working late tonight, so if you need any help you know where to find me.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t wanna bother you.”

“I can spare an hour for my favourite PhD student.”

“Your only PhD student.”

“You should just accept the compliment, darling.” She squeezes your shoulder and winks. “Good luck with your research. Try to squeeze in an afternoon nap. Ta-ta!”

She turns around and walks in the direction of her office, leaving you standing in front of the cafeteria like an idiot. As she walks away, you stare at way her hips move in the tight skirt pencil skirt she’s wearing. After a couple of seconds, you realise your mouth is open, so you quickly close it before anyone notices you are behaving like a horny teenager. 

You slowly drag yourself to your room. As you sit down and start going through the notes she gave you during lunch, your thoughts keep drifting to her ass in that pencil skirt. You sigh.

This is going to be a long day.

By the time evening comes, you are nowhere near finished with the chapter that was giving you grief yesterday. You know what needs to be done and you have finally found the right source to support your argument, but you have a hard time concentrating, and that makes you work in an excruciatingly slow manner. Your thoughts are scattered and you keep thinking about the deadline that looms over your head. Stress and sleep deprivation are truly starting getting to you (it also doesn’t help that your thoughts keeps drifting to Professor Weems and her tight pencil skirt). You wonder if you should take a quick power nap, but you are so caffeinated and anxious you doubt you could sleep if you tried, despite being exhausted, so you continue to push through.

It’s around 9pm that you hear a knock on your door. Before you can react in any way, the door opens and Professor Weems is standing in your room.

“I hope I’m not bothering you, darling. I just wanted to check how you’re doing before I retire for the evening.”

“Not so well, I’m afraid. I am nowhere near done with this chapter. I know what I need to do, it’s just that it’s going so painfully slowly.” You bury your head into your hands and let out a frustrated sigh. “I’m sorry I’m being so whiny about this. I am just so stressed.”

Professor Weems approaches your desk and sits on it. Her thigh is just next to your head. You look up at her.

“Darling, you are working yourself too hard. I would tell you if I thought you are terribly behind with your research, but I honestly think you’ll make it. Don’t forget, I have to sign my name on your work — I would never lie to you about your progress to make you feel better — so trust me when I say you should let this go for tonight and come back to it when you’re less sleep-deprived.”

“But—”

“No buts. Come on, I am taking you out for a glass of wine. You should relax. It’s painful to watch you like this.”

You would never decline a glass of wine with Professor Weems, so before you know it you are sitting in that bar near campus having a glass of red wine (that turns into two and then into three glasses). The alcohol is getting to you, since you haven’t eaten that much today — you feel warm and fuzzy and slightly drunk.

Professor Weems seems to be getting tipsy as well, because she is getting very touchy with you again. She laughs at your stupid jokes (her laughter is one of your favourite things about her — loud and unabashed and melodious) and touches your shoulder often, sometimes letting her hand linger way longer than necessary. At some point in the evening her leg touches your own underneath the table.

She doesn’t move it, nor does she apologise. 

“You were right, Professor Weems, I did need this,” you say. “I’ve been feeling really out of it for the last couple of days.”

“Oh, I told you already, call me Larissa, darling. Professor Weems is so formal.”

“Are you big on formalities, Larissa?” you ask. You decide to try and push your luck — your confidence is not that high, but you are not an idiot. You are pretty certain she is flirting with you, unless you are completely delusional because of sleep deprivation. 

“Usually yes, but as you’ve probably already concluded by my taste in literature, I do think life would be terribly boring without letting the irrational, passionate streak in us win sometimes. As is the case in many literary classics — the plot simply couldn’t move forward without one of the characters disregarding propriety and doing something reckless and passionate.”

“I agree. I often wish I had the courage to do something like that in real life — my life would be so much more interesting.”

“Don’t sell yourself short, darling. I do think you have what it takes.” She gives you a big, bright smile. “Oh, wait a second, darling, your lipstick is smudged. Here, let me.”

She leans forward and takes your chin in her hand, then brushes along the corner of your lip with her thumb. Her touch sends a shiver down your spine and makes your entire body hot with desire.

“That’s a lovely colour, darling. Coral suits you very well.”

She knows. She must know. 

She leans back into her seat. You decide to be bold.

“You know, I am still feeling a little bit tense. You said you like to watch something to relax — but I prefer more physical ways of relaxation. Do you have anything to recommend in that area?”

“Do give me an example, darling, what do you do to relax that’s physical?”

“Oh, I’m afraid what I do wouldn’t be appropriate to engage in at my workplace.”

There is a definite red tinge to Larissa’s cheeks.

“What’s life without a little excitement?”

“Very boring, I suppose.”

For a couple of seconds, there is silence. You are looking at each other, both of your cheeks slightly flushed from the alcohol. The tension in the air is thick and heavy.

The next thing she says takes you by surprise. You didn’t expect her to be that forward.

“Tell me, darling, did it turn you on when you heard me yesterday?”

“I—” you open and close your mouth like a fish. You can’t believe the words that just came out of her mouth — to hear her say something like that is something straight out of a wet dream, something that would only happen in your wildest fantasies. 

“I usually do it to relax — it’s a purely physical thing, but lately I have found myself thinking about you,” she continues. “Tell me, do you think of mewhen you touch yourself?”

You look her straight in the eye. “Yes, I do.”

You look at each other for a moment. Desire lingers in the air. She is first to break the silence. 

“Before this escalates any further, I want you to know that the last thing I’d want is to put you in a difficult situation or make you feel like you are obligated to do something. If you don’t want this, just say the word and we shall never mention it again.” 

She pauses. She seems nervous — you’ve never seen her nervous before.

“And please know that whatever you decide, it will not affect your thesis in any way. I would hate for you to be under the impression that this is transactional. I am genuinely interested in pursuing something beyond friendship with you, but I am ready to put that aside and prioritise our professional relationship if that is what you want.”

Your heart breaks as you decide to do the right thing.

“Maybe we should wait until I finish my thesis, and then… continue with this,” you say. “As much as I’d like to, it really wouldn’t be professional of us.”

“Of course. That would probably be best.”

She moves her leg under the table so that it’s no longer touching yours —- you can’t help but feel disappointed. There is a moment of awkward silence. She clears her throat. “We should probably go then, not let this escalate any further.”

“Yes,” you agree. “Let’s go.”

The walk to campus is silent and awkward. 

“It’s rather late,” you say. “I do hope buses still drive. The night lines are scarce in this part of town.”

“Oh, I can drive you home, if you want,” she says quickly. “I didn’t offer because I wouldn’t want to make you uncomfortable.”

“I mean, if you want to. We will have to spend time a lot of time together until I finish my thesis, we might as well practice not being awkward around each other. Not that I wasn’t awkward before,” you say, attempting to lighten the mood. “You always made me nervous.”

She chuckles and the air seems less heavy. “I didn’t know I was so scary.”

“You’re not,” you say, but you don’t elaborate further (what you want to say is you look like a movie star, you are intelligent and absolutely brilliant and I am nervous because I have a huge crush on you — but that would be inappropriate given the circumstances).

The drive to your apartment is silent. The tension that built in the bar didn’t dissipate into thin air when you decided not to act on it — instead it intensified — it lingers around, hot and heavy, clouding your judgement, making you sweat even though it’s a chilly night.

She parks in a free spot just in front of your apartment building.

“I’m sorry, I acted very unprofessionally,” she starts. “As your mentor, I should have ignored your advances, but instead I flirted with you and encouraged you.”

Her red lips move in the most delicious way as she speaks, and you find yourself staring again. You remember the sound of her moans. It’s difficult to think about anything else.

“I feel terribly ashamed. I promise I will maintain a strictly professional demeanour from now o—”

You pull her into a bruising kiss. She squeaks (you find that adorable).

Pushing you away, she tries to be reasonable. “We shouldn’t,” she says.

“What’s life without a little excitement? What a novel without the protagonist disregarding propriety and pushing the plot forward?”

“I—”

“Please, Larissa, I believe you when you say my thesis won’t be affected. We are both adults. We want this. Tell me, do you want me?”

She looks at you. Desire dances in her eyes.

“Yes.”

That is all you need. 

You kiss her again, then climb over to her seat, somehow managing to straddle her lap. She abruptly pushes the car seat backwards to give you more room — you gasp in surprise and she swallows your gasp with a hungry kiss.

The way she kisses you is passionate, ravenous, desperate. You grind against each other, your hands are everywhere, and her skirt is already bunched up around her hips (the sight of her soft, white thighs in garters drives you crazy). It’s hot, it’s dirty, and it’s not something you thought a put together woman like herself would ever be caught dead doing.

“I never imagined you’d enjoy a dirty car fuck, Larissa,” you whisper into her ear as she kisses your neck. She bites it and you gasp. 

“And I never imagined you’d be such a naughty slut, grinding your pussy against my thigh, but here we are.” 

She makes even something that cheap and filthy sound delicious. It shouldn’t turn you on so much, but it does.

“Say that again,” you breathe out, continuing to grind against her thigh.

“You like it when mommy calls you a dirty slut, hm?” 

She grabs your hair with one hand and slides the other one down into your trousers, feeling your drenched underwear. 

“Mmm, fuck,” is the only thing you can say.

“So wet and needy for me already, darling?” she coos at you. “Tell me, did you imagine me doing this to you as you touch yourself, hm? Fucking you with my fingers, fast and hard, like a common whore?”

She slides her hand inside your underwear and pushes a finger into you, then, when she feels how wet you are, two. You whimper. She curls them and you cry out. “Say I’m mommy’s little whore. I want to hear it.”

“I— I’m mommy’s little whore, fuck—”

She starts fucking you, fast and hard, and there are no coherent thoughts left in your mind. She is grunting and groaning with you — it make you delirious with desire. You want to make her moan like she did last night.

You somehow manage to pull yourself together enough to bury your own hand between her soft thighs and feel her wetness. She moans as you circle her clit and her fingers lose their rhythm for a second, which allows you to put together a coherent sentence.

“Like that, mommy?” you breathe out. “Did you imagine this when you touched yourself yesterday?”

“Yes,” she whines, “please, don’t stop.”

You have no intention of stopping. You continue to circle her clit even as she starts to fuck you harder. Her moans are obscene and loud and for a second you remember that any passerby could see you, and probably hear you, but you don’t care. If anything, that turns you on even more.

What sends you over the edge is her orgasm. Her body tenses up, her moans become hoarser and strangled, and a combination of swearwords and moans mixed with your name leave her lips as she tips over the edge of ecstasy. It’s the most erotic thing you have ever witnessed. She tries to fuck you through her own orgasm, but she doesn’t manage to keep the relentless, steady pace she had set before. It doesn’t matter — you grind on her hand and cry out as you ride out intense waves of pleasure that make your limbs tingle.

She gently pulls her fingers out of you. You stay still for a while, wrapped around each other, breathing heavily, your faces buried in each other’s necks. 

“Fuck, that was hot,” you say after a while.

She nods against your shoulder. “It was.”

“Wanna do that again sometime… mommy?” you pull away, looking at her with a shit-eating grin plastered on your face.

“If you call me that any time we aren’t fucking, I will end you.”

You laugh, and after a second she laughs as well. 

She is so pretty when she smiles — you love how those little lines around her eyes become more prominent.

“I should probably go, though. We are in the middle of the street and it’s like, 3am,” you say.

“Yes, you probably should.”

Before you go exit the car, you kiss goodnight. It’s the sweet and soft — it makes your heart flutter.

“Good night, darling,” she whispers as you get out of the car.

“Good night, Larissa,” you whisper as you watch her drive away.

As you brush your teeth, take a quick shower and get cozy in your bed, the only thing you can think about is Larissa. When you fall asleep, you dream of her sweet kisses. 

When you wake up in the morning, you feel well-rested for the first time in weeks.

[uraichievents]

Welcome to this year's UraIchi Prompt Challenge! For our 8th PC, we will be focusing on crossovers!

Like we did for a previous mini-event, this year will also have a spin-the-wheel component. For PC8, you will be spinning for at least one random fandom and creating a crossover fanwork with it. A total of 300 different fandoms were nominated in the space of a week, so you'll have plenty to choose from. For most of them, I tried to copy the fandom names straight from the AO3 tags. The only exceptions are if they're not on AO3, or if I thought a catch-all name suited it better (ie. Marvel Comics (Any) because there are just too many of them, and this way you can pick whichever Marvel comic/movie/etc. you want). But overall, all fandoms that were nominated have been included in one of the wheels.

Before we get into that though, here are the rules for PC8:

1) Fanworks must be UraIchi-centric and complete. Obviously, this year, they must also be crossovers in some shape or form. UraIchi can be romantic or platonic (lovers, friends, family, enemies, etc.), so long as you can stick a / or an & between them, and they and their interactions are the main focus. 2) Any kind of fanwork is allowed if you can pull it off (fic, art, vid, gifset, etc.). There is no word limit for fics. 3) Poly ships are fine so long as UraIchi is in there somewhere. 4) The general definition of a crossover is a fanwork where two or more fandoms are combined in some way. For the purpose of this event, dimension travel, fusions, isekai, reincarnation, and resurrection would all count so long as your work includes at least one other fandom outside of Bleach. Likewise, Bleach must obviously be one of the fandoms. Basically, so long as Bleach and 1+ Other Fandom(s) are combined in some way, starring UraIchi as the main characters, then you should be good. If you are unsure whether your idea of a crossover counts, you can always send in an ask to check.

Post Date:

The due date for this event is December 31st, 2023, and the AO3 Collection will open at 12am (PST). I’ll reblog this post with a link to the collection closer to the date.

Tags:

If you’re posting your work (or a link to your work) as a post on Tumblr, you can tag it #uraichi prompt challenge 8 in the first five tags so I can reblog it here.

And finally, what you've all been waiting for:

As I mentioned before, I used Wheel Decide to make the wheels, but each wheel has a limit of 100 items, so since we ended up with 300 fandoms, I've had to split it into 3 wheels.

There's no specific theme or category for each wheel. I threw everything into a random choice generator, and then threw the results onto each wheel in batches of 100, so it's all random, and you can play this in a number of ways. You could just pick one wheel, spin, and get your fandom that way. You could also spin two or three wheels, and then pick your favourite out of the fandoms you get. Or you could spin all three wheels and write a four-fandom crossover like a crazy person. The point is, there's pretty much no wrong way to go about cobbling together your crossover.

If you want to submit more than one fanwork, feel free to spin for as many as you want to write/draw/etc. (of course, they should all be complete). And yes, you can spin more than once if you're really stuck on the fandom you get, or you just don't know the fandom at all.

I think that's about it, if anybody has any questions, please don't hesitate to send in an ask. Then, without further ado, here are the wheels:

WHEEL 1

WHEEL 2

WHEEL 3

Have fun!

[farfromstrange]

Kinktober 2023

This is my first Kinktober, so bear with me!

Over the course of the next two weeks, starting Monday, October 16th, I will be posting a drabble/one-shot to a smutty prompt every day.

The star of my Kinktober is going to be our dearly beloved Matt Murdock.

So, without much further ado, here is the schedule with the corresponding prompts for the next two weeks. If you want to be put on a tag list specifically for this Kinktober, let me know. Other than that, I'm simply using the Matt Murdock Smut tag list that I always use (link to be found on my Masterlist).

Keep in mind, this event is solely 18+! Minors DNI!

Enjoy, my horny sharks!

More information under the cut!

Pairing for all fics: Matt Murdock x afab!Reader (unless stated otherwise)

Fandom: Daredevil

Timeline: October 16th to October 31st

SCHEDULE & PROMPTS:

Additional warnings will, as always, be added before every fic, as well as a summary. Some of those will be shorter than others, but they will all encapsulate the corresponding prompt.

I'll post a Masterlist when I've posted the first fic.

I hope I'll see you horny fuckers here on Monday...

[hopepetal]

Welcome to 5llsmp, an experimental hardcore series– gets smacked

Right! Us Tumblr folk decided to get together and play some good ol' fashioned third life! Just with four lives. And a Boogeyman. But no life trade function.

The colour system is as follows.

Four lives- dark blue 💙

Three lives- green 💚

Two lives- yellow 💛

One life- red ♥️

Every time after we have a session, the players send me summaries of what happened, and I write it all up in an official statement! Some people recorded, so be on the lookout for little clips here and there! The official tag for this smp is #5llsmp, so check that out for the artwork, fanfiction, and other posts about our little game!

Well then, without further ado...

Session One

Your players:

Stiff (any) @stiffyck

Bee (she/they) @applestruda

Jay (she/they) @happy-hermit

Chem (he/they/it) @chemdisaster

Star (they/zie) @scarring-lust (18+)

Ed (he/byte/chirp/gore) @frootyloopy

Space (he/xe) @space-apples

Phil (he/zir/ghost/it) @aresonist

Wilm (he/they) @whilmsy

Melou (he/they) @melouthechalk

Zera (they/he) That’s me!

Elle (she/her) @periwinklemoonlight

Brandy (any) @brandyy0moss

5ievel (any) @5-fievel

Moth (he/him) @evenmoreevil

Admins:

Console- Wren @wren-pineapples

Playing- Zera (me again!)

The session starts off with a bang (more like a vine boom)!

Stiff runs off with Bee and Phil to gather materials before eventually running into Moth in the mountains! They decide to base together, creating the Lads of the Valley! Stiff then goes looking for water and meets Zera, and they both get distracted and go mining together.

Space and Wilm meet at spawn and decide to stick together, watching Chem take the enchanter and run off! They run off to the desert where they meet Zera at night. Space unfortunately dies to a husk, becoming the first green name of the server! Wilm then leaves Zera and goes back to spawn to find Space!

Zera immediately runs off in a random direction alone, and manages to find a village. They get an iron sword from the blacksmith! They briefly meet with Space and Wilm before mining some iron and getting everything set. They meet with Stiff and give him a diamond! They find sculk with Stiff and start mining it, but fall into lava and die. They then meet with Jay and decide to team, becoming the Boatem Birdies.

Chem is the first to mine the surface iron and run off with the enchanter! The boogeyman is chosen, and it ends up being him! He tries to make a plan for killing someone, and lies when Zera briefly passes by and asks if he’s the boogeyman. At spawn, Chem kills Wilm in what is described as the “most pathetic chase scene ever” where Wilm begs Chem not to kill him and Chem says they will cry if they don’t get the kill. Chem then goes to find a cave, names it “the pits of depression and self-loathing”, and allows Star to use the enchanter for sugar cane.

Star goes on a lone adventure, taking care to slaughter every living creature they see, with a special vendetta against the donkeys. They find a mineshaft and an enchanted book! They find Chem in a ravine and they meet up with Brandy for a bit! Star then goes on a hunt for moss and nearly dies.

Elle, staying true to her adventure loving self, basically stays in a cave all session digging clay for bricks. This is because Elle wants to build a house to fight Bee in.

5ievel and Ed stick together, calling themselves the Iron Guys. They briefly met up with Wilm, Brandy, and Elle and mined for a bit. 5ievel died to a creeper before rejoining the group briefly before going to the nether. The Iron Guys decide to base underground!

Space has died two more times, becoming the first and only red of the server.

Meanwhile, the Lads of the Valley are trying to get goat horns, spending about fifteen minutes with varying amounts of success before killing most, if not all, of the goats. Stiff dies by getting shot by a skeleton, and chats with Wilm after respawning before rejoining the Lads of the Valley.

The Boatem Birdies make a mini boatem pole with only two boats, before beginning to make a tower base. They become frenemies with the Lads of the Valley and discuss how screwed they are if one of the Lads becomes the boogey next session. Moth puts up a cobblestone wall between the Boatem Birdies and the Lads’ property, which Jay and Zera later take down. The Boatem Birdies attempt to make a peace treaty with the Lads with flowers, but Phil and Moth burn the flowers while Bee accepts.

The session has ended!

Life count:

Stiff- 3

Bee- 4

Jay- 4

Chem- 4

Star- 4

Ed- 2

Space- 1

Phil- 3

Wilm- 3

Melou- 4

Zera- 3

Elle- 4

Brandy- 3

5ievel- 3

Moth- 4