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#Hooten and the Lady
clark-hailey77 · 4 months
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Jonathan Bailey - GAY TIMES Magazine [December 2023] Photography by Asafe Ghalib
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jbaileyfansite · 1 year
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Jonathan Bailey and Ophelia Lovibond on the set of Hooten and The Lady (2016) | 📸: @opheliabits
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Ahhhh it’s Angel Coulby’s birthday!!
So grateful for her brilliant characterization of Guinevere, and introducing me to ‘Hooten and The Lady’
Hope she’s doing well! 💕
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jaynedolluk · 5 months
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Watched Payback which was a decent enough crime thriller on ITV with some clever twists. Also ended up binge-watching the new series of COBRA: Rebellion on Sky which has Robert Carlyle as a fictional prime minister dealing with all sorts of national/personal emergencies. I really wish they hadn't written out Jane Horrocks' character at the end as she was so splendidly awful. Archie is one of my favourites but I can't believe he went + asked RC's character to come back as PM after he'd resigned. Personally as good as RC is, I'd like them to maybe move on if they do another series + get someone else in to play Prime Minister.
C4 did a really good dramatisation of the whole Partygate scandal which intercut the fictionalised scenes of Tory advisors getting pissed + partying during lockdown with real life stories of those who couldn't say goodbye to loved ones who were dying or who ended up with massive fines for doing something the Tories essentially got away with. It also had an excellent cast including Ophelia Lovibond playing a posh bitch (I love her - my favourite show she was in was Hooten and the Lady which was like this amazing riff on Indiana Jones/Romancing the Stone + was massively under-rated)
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writingsofhubris · 6 months
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Portrait of a Lady
↞ | ← | Master | AO3 | →
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Ch 3. With 'I have saved this afternoon for you'; Rating: E WC: Tags: Lovecraftian Monster(s), Human/Monster Romance, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Cancer Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader Disc: You'd met Harding elsewhere, even though you'd never talked for more than a few minuets. When you'd stopped into his emergency room, when you'd visited Chelsea, you found yourself looking at a man you'd known only in passing heading your care. He'd led you through tumultuous questions, opened up as easily as any of the surgeons could open up a person. Somehow, you'd been drawn to Harding, and he was willing to take you up on your offer.
"You're right." Jolene looked you over before standing up, and selecting a dress from the bags she had brought. She always knew just what to pick for your outfits, even if it meant she had shown up with  a needle still in the thread and fabric needing to be finished gathering. She liked to dress you like a doll. 
"Alright, this is a new pattern we're trying at the store. Flares just a bit different than you normally like, but who cares?” She turned to show you the outfit; a number that would cling to your body in just the right places, in just the ways you would like to draw Harding’s eyes.
"I'll let you know how fast he drops to his knees." Jolene laughed as she pushed the dress into your hands, turning from you to start to look through your scarves. 
"Let's see how it fits!" You turned from her, and did just so. A perfect fit, as the clothes often were. By the time you had turned around once more, Jolene already had the selection of accessories. Cool tones in the jewelry grabbed onto the rich purple accents of your dress, and the dark violet scarf made from silk.
"Look at that!" She walked over, just to slide the one zipper in the dress up, and attach the necklace. "He's going to lose his mind for you." You bit your lip as you looked into the mirror, sucking a nervous breath in through your teeth. Jolene wrapped her arm around your body and smiled in the mirror. 
"He'd better not know what hit him." 
"Oh, no way he will." Her hand moved over yours, dropping a bracelet into your hand. She moved behind you, folding and settling your scarf over your head, covering the fuzzy coating of hair on your scalp.
"I hope this goes well…" 
"It will." Jolene moved to your side. Looking at you in the reflection. "I know it will. You look beautiful."
"Thank you." 
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The taxi took you right to the front door of the restaurant. Already, the light was gone from the sky, thick clouds threatening to spill over with rain gathered on the western horizon. Too familiar to you, you were certain that you saw rays of light just on the edge of the clouds. The distinction was faint, yet noticeable. 
You forced a deep breath, knowing you were stalling. Looking down at your phone, you started to text Harding to let him know you were here. Yet, right as your thumb hovered over the send icon, your name echoed around the road, just before a car passed by. Turning, Harding walked up the dark sidewalk, trademark bowtie nestled under his chin.  
“You look beautiful.” Harding’s eyes moved over your body, looking at the finery coating you. He took a moment before forcing himself to motion with his hand at the doorway. “Are you ready?” 
“Yes.” His hand moved to your elbow, guiding you into the restaurant, filled to the brim with finery. 
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"Do you remember the first time we met?" It took a moment for the memory to find you.
"Didn't Tina spill wine on you?" 
"At the end of the dinner. I was lucky enough to have my dark suit jacket that night." 
“Not unlike the last time we dined,” you had to chuckle. 
“No, my luck ran out the other night.” His own chuckle complimented yours in the din of the restaurant. The conversation naturally continued, finding subjects from one moment to the next, a river of topics spinning into a whirlpool.
“Hopefully for the last time.” 
“Indeed.” Your conversation was disrupted by the waiter, walking over at last to introduce herself. The conversation continued, topics flowing with ease, jokes exchanged faster than expected. 
“No, I’m afraid I’ll be taking a work trip in just a couple months.” 
“And your destination?’ “A tour, honestly. A list of towns, all along the coast.” A small wiry smile appeared on your lips. “I’ve had a book accepted by a publishing company. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do this tour or not.” 
“You just published? Congratulations; perhaps champagne is in order.” 
“A celebration of some kind, at least.” You hurried to take a bite, forcing a natural break before he could ask the next question. 
“And what sort of celebration is that?” His smile was good natured, clearly ready to hear some silly, expected desire to celebrate. You allowed your hand to turn the fork over in your fingers, playing with the side you had just taken a large bite from. Phrasings warred for just a moment, and your eyes stayed low on your plate. 
“A sort of celebration I think wouldn’t be appropriate with my doctor. At least not my current doctor.” In a moment of bravada, your eyes scanned over the tables around you, before landing squarely on Harding. “And I don’t see my current doctor here in the restaurant.” Harding reached forward to take a sip of his water, wetting his throat as he seemed to be thinking. 
His dark eyes flicked back up to you, an edge in them that you hadn’t seen as the doctor you’d grown fond of, in and out of his care. 
“This celebration… Would it be appropriate for a friend you’ve made during your social time?” 
“That would be the preference.” You took a bite of your food again, and continued. “Would you mind helping me celebrate, Harding?” 
“I would be honored.” 
Once more, his smile returned, and a wave of lust shook through your body. That kind, beautiful smile. It made you want to surprise him one morning with your mouth on him, just to see his smile as he looked down at you. You had to look at your plate, embarrassment rushing you. There was no way he would be able to know what it was you were thinking. There wasn’t a single possibility he could have seen the ideas that had spawned in your head, not at this point, but you swore his eyes darkened even more, that the smile on his lips was just a little hungrier for you. Lips you were certain were softer than the words that would fall. 
Even when dessert came and went, chocolate and fruit shared between the two of you, your words continued to hold double meanings, entandres. Harding would allow himself to tease you just the same as you were teasing him; tongues flicking out to taste stray drops of chocolate, your fork full of fruits guided directly into his mouth, daring actions of those trying to flirt. The charged air only found more charge until the last moment, the dinner paid for and your chairs finally pushed in. 
Ever the gentleman, Harding guided you to the sidewalk just outside, but hesitated before hailing a taxi. Harding’s large body turned to yours, a small smile on his lips. 
“I don’t suppose I could invite you for a nightcap.” 
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You were right, in a way. Harding's lips were gentle, even when his hands were hungry over your waist. Something about the way he almost devoured you made you crave his touch. 
Harding's hand wrapped around your wrist, tugging your hand to his shoulder. Your palm landed on his suit jacket, before sliding between it and the vest. The fabric was so very soft, sandwiching your skin. Your other hand went to the buttons on his vest, hurrying along to open them before either of your coats were off. You were both so hungry for the other, the food from dinner only having sated your stomach. 
Harding’s large hand moved to your hip, pulling you closer to his body. His vest and coat were pushed off, landing on the rug under your feet, ignored nearly as soon as it was shoved off him. His bowtie was the next article you focused on, tugging on the tongue of the tie, pulling it off with a soft slide of silk. 
The moment of pause was all you two needed to slow back down, the first hit of contact sated. Instead, your hand went back to his throat, and slowly opened up the buttons of his shirt. You felt when Harding swallowed heavily, his Adam's apple bobbing against the back of your fingers. 
The hooked fingers you had in his clothing was enough leverage to guide him closer, tilting your faces to meet, but stopping short. 
“Where is your bedroom, Harding?” 
“Up the stairs, and to the right.” You used your leverage to pull him closer, taking a step up his stairs, still facing him. Your faces were closer, and you finally took that kiss. It was sweet, a foil to the passion you both needed to release. 
He didn’t allow his hands to stay idle, moving back to your hips, thumbs brushing firmly over the dips he found. There was strength in his hands, strength you’d grown to know in the time he’d been your doctor. Strength you were hoping to get to know now as a lover. 
Your lips parted again, both taking a short breath, shared air mixing between you. 
Your hand took his hand from your hip, and turned to guide Harding up the way he had instructed. It wasn’t until the top of the stairs that Harding took a larger step, pressing his front to your back. It was at that moment his hand took your wrist, sliding up from the hold you had just had. His lips pressed to the back of your neck, a tail of your scarf caught between his body and yours. His free hand ran over the side of your body, down to the hem of your skirt. You were fleetingly glad Jolene’s design was short enough for Harding’s hand to slide along your thigh, his palm covering a swatch of your inner thigh. His thumb, pressed against your crotch, felt the warmth that had built up. 
“Just from being teased?” His knuckle slid slightly, just to feel just how wet you had gotten. “Just from sitting across from you?” His lips pressed to your neck again. 
“Can you blame me?” Your hips hitched forward, sliding against his hand. With his positioning against you, Harding took to guide you into his bedroom. You would have taken the time to appraise his room, but you were concentrated on the bed that was right before you, one that looked very comfortable and inviting. 
Harding’s body guided you to the edge of the bed, facing the expanse. Instead of guiding you to bend over, he instead moved to undo the knot of your scarf. The slight stiffening of your shoulders wasn’t lost on Harding, either. 
“Would you like to leave this on?” Instead of allowing him an answer, your own hands moved to the soft fabric, the fuzzy growth on your head already hiding the fresh scar on your head. 
Harding’s lips moved to the back of your head, pressing a kiss against your short hair. His lips moved slightly, then pressed another kiss to your hair again, repeating the action until his lips started down your neck, and your shoulder. His fingers moved to the tab of your zipper, and allowed it to slide down, showing off your back to him.
“Beautiful.” 
“Think so?” 
“I know so.” You allowed a small curl of your lips, and Harding slid off the sleeves, guiding your dress to the floor. It was caught between your bodies until you leant forward, your elbows taking your weight. A shimmy of your hips to shake off the dress, and you turned over on the mattress, showing Harding what you’d picked out for the night; a deep purple bra and panty set, a splurge from just a few months ago. It hadn’t been given an opportunity to be shown off, either. 
Nerves were well piqued, his dark eyes looking over your body behind thick rimmed glasses. His barely opened clothes were more debauched than you’d ever seen from him, and you already wanted to see more skin, feel his hands over you again. 
The pause was enough to entice hunger into Harding. He pushed you into his bed, slowly enough for you to lower yourself onto the mattress from your elbows. He took the opportunity to move his hands to your knees, spreading you open. His hand moved to your thigh, pressing your leg up to your chest, before it slid down to the crotch of your panties.
“You look breathtaking,” Harding murmured, his hands rubbing your calf. Your free leg wrapped around his hips, trying to tug him closer. He lowered himself to his elbows, hovering over you for just a moment before pressing his lips down to your neck, his head dipping down to your collarbone. Harding managed to pull your attention only to his lips, only to his hands running over your body, only to his warmth over you. He was skilled, and if you were lucky, you’d find yourself in his bed often again.
His lips were on your breast, fingers pulling the cups aside, sharp teeth running over your skin, before his lips settled over your nipple. It was impossible to not arch up into him, to take that suction and make it even more pleasurable. The tip of his tongue flicked over you, until his lips pulled away with a soft pop. Unwilling to waste time, his lips simply took the other nipple, fingers rolling his saliva into your areola. You weren’t going to let him take complete control, and used the leg wrapped around his hips to pull him closer, grinding into your crotch. You could feel how hard he was through his slacks. 
“And you were teasing me about being needy.” Once more, your hands moved between you two, pulling open each button on Harding’s shirt. The fabric pulled away to show his stomach covered by a white tee, an undershirt impeding your goal. 
“So I did…” Harding’s lips pulled from your nipple to kiss over your sternum, his teeth nipping the side of your breast. The thin skin bloomed in pleasurable pain, pulling a whimper from you. 
“Get this off, Harding.” The teasing tone fell slightly from your voice, that same need coming back full force. “I want to feel your skin under my hands.” Your fingers took the hem of his shirt, tugging up and out of his belt.
Idly, you hoped he’d use that on you one night… If you remained that lucky. 
“As you wish.” Another kiss to your sternum, and he leant back. He watched as your hands moved over your body, distracting him from his goal. You were successful for only a moment, his hands stilling as he watched your fingers disappear in your panties. 
“Hurry,” you whispered, daring him to follow through and ravish you more. “I need to feel you.” 
“You’re a bloody minx,” he judged quickly. His shirt was off as he leant his head down, his lips trailed over your stomach, landing on the band of your underwear. His lips pressed kisses along the edges of your underwear, before sliding his hands from your knees to your hips, sliding under the purple fabric. “How long had you planned this?” 
“You’ll have to keep guessing.” 
“And has your plan followed how you decided?” 
“So far it is… Your tongue was doing something else by now in my plan.” Almost as a reprimand for your cheeky statement, Harding’s teeth once again found your skin, a tiny bite that was more shock than it was pain. A yelp, and your hips canted into his face better. 
Harding at last let his lips move to the apex of your thighs, kissing along the edges of the gusset. Your breathing stilled, until he slid his tongue along the side of the fabric, eating to his content. Your immediate cry was insistent, a shock to you as he dug his tongue into your hole, before slipping further into your cunt. Harding was skilled at sucking on your nipples, but he was a master at playing with his tongue. 
“That silver tongue doesn’t just end with words, huh?” Harding didn’t respond with more than a light pinch on your hip. Your laugh broke into the quiet of the room, pulling in intimacy that you hadn’t realized you needed. It was easy to let his tongue work your clit from there; circles and flicks, clenching down onto nothing. Each swipe made you feel more empty than before, more excited to feel him inside you. 
His middle finger slid into your pussy, finally giving you something to tighten around, something to get a little bit more pleasure. Only a few thrusts of his finger and he slipped in his ring finger as well, curling them both into you. 
Your thigh was wrapped around his head, and with just a couple slight humps against Harding’s face, you finished on his tongue. Expert as Harding could be, his skill showed in pleasure that radiated from his tongue, his fingers. Your muscles relaxed just enough, drunk on the rush of pleasurable chemicals. Your moans echoed slightly, but Harding didn’t allow you to put your leg down. He used his hand to guide your calf to his shoulder, forcing you open for him; you couldn’t close yourself even if you wanted to. 
“An absolute minx to cum that beautifully,” Harding reiterated. “Tighten that much on my fingers; you knew what you were doing to me.” He shifted enough to reach your lips, and let your leg fall to wrap around his waist, much more comfortable for you both. 
Your lips met, and you could taste your own cum on his mouth, letting your tongue slide against his for the moment. Intimacy, a connection that you were certain he needed as well. 
Yet, when Harding stopped, you were worried. He pulled away, and looked to the side for just a moment, as if thinking. 
“What is it?” Your hand was on the back of his head, gently brushing the short hair to get his attention again. His eyes drifted closed for just a moment, before pressing one more kiss to your lips. 
“Stay.” His instruction confused you until he pulled back, getting off the bed. 
“Harding…?” You started to sit up, before his hand was back on your chest, pushing you back to the bed. 
“Listen to me, pet.” A nod, and you watched as he moved to a drawer just far enough away that it felt impractical. When he turned back, you saw his goal; a box of condoms. 
Harding was back on bed in just a moment more, finding himself pulled down onto your body, leg wrapped right back around his waist. 
“Anything else? I’m so awfully ready for you.” You knew he could feel the back of your hand on his cock as you rubbed your clit. His lips took yours, losing track of time. His underwear was pulled down, and you finally felt the flesh of his dick on your skin. He was hot, stiff, and you needed to feel him stretch you out. 
You took a foil packet from him, and put it on his prick, letting a couple of strokes settle the condom on him. 
“Ready, my dear?” His deep brown eyes met yours. His dark eyes only held lust for you, drinking you in with his strong gaze. You nodded, moving a hand to his waist. 
“Fuck me, Harding. Please, I need you.” He didn’t let you beg any further, the head of his dick moving to your hole. He leant down, hand still guiding him further in, and kissed you. His tongue dipped past your lips just as his dick pressed into you,taking both your lips and cunt at the same time. He swallowed the moan of pleasure, taking his time for his hips to become flush to your body. 
Harding’s face moved to your shoulder, at last breaking the kiss. You felt a nip of his teeth again, a small bruise already ready to form. His teeth were sharp against your skin, the pain steep. 
“Harding…” Your hips swirled, trying to push his shaft into you. “Move, please.” 
“Just…” His lips pressed a spattering of kisses along your shoulder. “I just need a moment, my dear.” His deep breath made you realize he was enjoying himself just as much as you were. A little shocked, you couldn’t help playing with fire. Your fingers moved to the back of his neck, getting his attention as your legs wrapped around him, holding him in you. 
“Take your time, Harding. I need your cock, I need to cum on you. You’re splitting me open, it’s just what I needed… You feel perfect.” Your lips pressed to the side of his head, half whimpering and half moaning for him. You must have flipped a switch in him, as Harding guided himself up enough to look over your body. His hips slowly started to move, letting your body adjust and spread, relax and accept him in. His hand moved to your cheek, and slipped his thumb into your mouth, letting you suck on something. Your eyes closed as you let out a moan around him. One of your hands moved to his wrist, ensuring it couldn’t move from your skin. You only allowed his hand to move to your neck, a very careful, controlled pressure against your throat.
Harding watched you carefully, admiring the way your eyes rolled back in your head, how you tightened around his cock, just allowing you to enjoy the feeling of him pulling pleasure from your core. Each thrust, each ragged breath from the two of you was music. 
Music that didn’t conclude until early hours of the night, after countless orgasms and moments of respite in each other’s arms. Nearly half the condoms in his modest supply had been used, and you were both coated in cum and sweat. 
Harding had guided you to his bathroom, his shower, and taken care of every inch of you from there to the bed. 
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Never before did you expect to find your way down Harding’s stairs, each soft tap of your bare feet showing just how timid you did feel. Your hands pushed the cuffs of Harding’s shirt up your arms, checking once more that the shirt was buttoned. Unsure of which way to take, you let your nose guide you; cooking eggs and toast, you were certain of it. 
You searched your way through the turns and the curves, from the entryway to the living room, a hallway that amplified the scents from the kitchen. Each room you walked through showed a new side of Harding; art from artists you were shocked to see hanging in his house. The Rothko at the hospital was one thing, but the artists you were seeing now couldn’t compare. Local legends, long since past, international, forgotten painters, the abstract colors and shapes expressing emotions you would need hours to properly appreciate. 
You had stopped in front of one painting, a dark canvas that spoke to some deeper emotions in you. Your fingers extended to it, not daring to touch the delicate strokes, but only to feel a closeness to the pain. Whatever the painting was, you knew you’d have to ask Harding about it, one day. 
You only made it a few more steps before stopping, recognizing the strokes on this canvas. It hadn’t been the piece he’d told you he’d bid on; this was a much smaller, and more intricate piece. Washes brought layers into the sky, the bird in sharp relief as you’d remembered those wings. You still remembered the morning; a trip to a small town in years past with your mothers, the sun rising against the sea and a flock of birds, rising suddenly over the edge of the hill. It was sudden, breathtaking, and still emboldened in your mind. 
You finally allowed yourself to move into the kitchen, just around one more turn and through an archway. Such a richly furnished house seemed reminiscent of the man himself; a warmth hidden in the secret parts of himself. Parts of him that only select people were allowed to join, parts only he decided to share. 
“Good morning,” Harding greeted, voice clear to speak to the time he had already been in the kitchen for, the time he had been up for. You took in his dressing gown, deep blues with perfect accents of dark yellow. It fit him well, and you could see the edges of a nightgown under the lapels and hem. 
“Good morning,”You responded, suddenly feeling underdressed. 
“Did you sleep well?” Harding took the few steps up to you, the mug that had been in his hand set to the table near you. You looked at him, inches away. 
“Better than I expected,” You returned, looking down now at his dressing gown, taking in the stitches, the accents. Your fingers moved to the sash, just resting against the folds of fabric. “Other than feeling a little underdressed compared to you.” 
“And I thought the robe I’d laid out was obvious.” Your soft chuckle bubbled out of your lips, and you looked down to the side of you both; the mug he had set down. A black coffee. “Do you take cream or sugar?” 
“No, not normally.” A sip of the drink, and you softly hummed your appreciation as the liquid warmed you from the inside. You took the chair at the small table nearby, allowing Harding to return to his task. Silence proliferated between you two, the soft hiss of food cooking on the stove, and bird calls streaming through the windows with the sunlight. 
Another sip of the coffee, and Harding’s voice rang out. 
“Did you hear that bird? That clanking type call?” He fell silent for a moment, and you listened to the call, suddenly hearing it with his instruction. 
“I think so.” 
“It’s quick.” Harding moved from the stove, only to stand next to you, gesturing out the window next to you. Looking out the window brought you the view of a birdfeeder, a muted sunflower yellow. Perched upon the rest was a small bird, small enough to fit into the palm of your hand. You saw its head flick a couple times, before its mouth opened, offering that trill again. 
“That is the Song sparrow. That specific one has been here for a few weeks. My bird feeders have given it no reason to move on.” Looking further out, you saw a wide assortment of feeders, ones Harding must have installed for just this purpose. 
“It’s lovely,” you had to respond, before looking up at him. He’d gotten just close enough that when your head tilted, you saw a mark on his neck, something that must have been a result from last night. You had to look away, keeping yourself from leaning back up. 
“How long have you been watching birds?” The conversation once more picked back up between you both, turning conversations as if they were pages in a book; smooth transitions that allowed for tangents to be explored, all whilst Harding finished cooking breakfast for you both. 
It hadn’t even taken ten more minutes before Harding was setting the food in front of you both, just on the table. Fresh fruits in a small bowl to the side, a simple omelet, and a top off on your coffee, all of it smelled amazing. 
“I didn’t know you could cook this well, Harding.” 
“Breakfast is my specialty.” That smirk, one that spoke to how confident he was, once more adorned his face.  
Harding looked cute as could be, sitting at his own spot next to you. He was holding his own utensils as he dug into his own plate, the eggs slowly disappearing. 
“I had a lot of fun last night,” you suddenly said, taking a sip of your coffee. The flavor flooded over your tongue, robust and warm. “I’m glad that you invited me back.” Harding’s smile spread, looking at you. Without missing a beat, his hand reached out to cup your cheek, simply holding onto you for a moment. You sunk into the moment of tenderness, eyes closing and a soft sigh fanning over his wrist. 
“As did I,” Harding replied, his voice soft. You pressed a kiss to his inner wrist, and looked up at him. The thoughts from last night, of waking him with a blow job, again drifted into your mind. Harding was already up, so perhaps you couldn’t have that exact experience. Yet, you knew that that robe had easy access to him. 
Your elbow hit the fork he’d offered you to eat with, clattering to the ground. A perfect excuse, one you were going to take. 
“Let me-” 
“I’ve got it.” your hand moved to his forearm, pinning him to the table. “You made breakfast, I’ll get this.” You offered a laugh, and pushed the chair back from the table, kneeling down on your knees to disappear under the table. You saw the fork not even a foot under the table, easy grabbing, but you turned to your left instead of your right. The tie to his robe was front and center, until your fingers took the edge of the tie, and tugged. You knew Harding could tell what you were doing when he stiffened. One of your hands moved to his knee, and slowly spread it open, allowing you to get closer in the small space. 
Harding’s curiosity had clearly gotten the better of him, allowing you to slide your hand up his thighs, taking hold of his half hard cock. Your tongue first touched his cock, licking and sucking to get him fully hard. He slowly hardened, filling your mouth. You started to take him deeper, once again familiar with the feeling of being filled. 
His soft moan fell from over the table. It was enough for you to slide your fingers between your legs, finding a wetness you’d expected. It seemed he was able to arouse you so long as he was in you in some way. 
You swallowed around his cock, urging his shaft further down your throat. Eyes closed, you shoved your lips further down, rubbing your tongue along a vein on his cock. 
“Just, ha, like that my dear,” Harding couldn’t help the moan, his hand moving to the back of your head. His hand forced your head to stay as close as you could manage it. Another swallow, and the last inch of Harding’s cock disappeared into your mouth, humming around his shaft. It was a stretch to feel him so deep. Your hand, slicked with your own juice, slipped to rest on his testicles, playing with them only for a moment, before Harding’s balls drew up and his cum splashed down your throat. His groan was loud in the quiet room, fingers lacing with the short hairs at the nape of your neck. 
His hips stuttered forward just an inch, letting the feeling of your mouth rush through his body. 
One last swallow around his cock, and Harding gasped nearly painfully, sliding you off his shaft. His chair noisily slid back, giving him the room to look down at you, kneeling in front of him. His dark blue robe framed his body, thighs still open by your shoulders. Your lips moved to a patch of skin, kissing him before following his body, carefully pulling yourself back from the floor. His hand once more moved to your head, but cupped your cheek first. He managed to guide you closer, and press your lips together. It was just for a moment, and you could taste just a bit of the food he’d eaten on his lips. 
“You’re proving to become an enigma,” Harding at last proclaimed, releasing your face from his hand. You took your seat again, looking at his small smile on his lips. It looked as natural as his eyes blinking, smiling at you. A sip of coffee, and obvious, fake sign of innocence from your transgression, his cum mixed with the warm liquid spreading over your tongue.
“Time will tell if you can figure me out, won’t it?”
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chronicowboy · 1 year
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trying soooo fucking hard not to devolve into using up all my time to write an incredibly obscure buddie au that no one but me would enjoy because i am actually in uni and have real work to do but i am holding on by a fucking thread
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deepinthelight · 13 days
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Hooten & the Lady
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Thank you Bridgerton rabbit hole for introducing me to the delightful Hooten & The Lady. This is right up my street but I do not have cable which is likely how I missed it first run. Tough luck for Michael Landes though - very hard for me to root for him to get the girl when she has perfect adorable Johnny Bailey waiting at home.
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hetbigbang · 2 years
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Het Big Bang 2022 Sign-Ups Open!
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jeremyallenwrench · 2 years
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Jonathan Bailey - Various Non-Period Projects
Please message me for access to #181 gifs of JONATHAN BAILEY in Various Non-Period Projects. All gifs have been made by me, so please like or reblog this if you find them helpful! Due to people not following my rules, I am now only sending links to those who confirm with me that they have reblogged the post (or have explained why they are unable to do so.) Give me a heads up if you use them to create gif icons or crackships - I don’t generally have a problem with it, but I have a few rules as far as crediting me!
A huge thank you to Feifer @pochunts​ for helping me get the footage for ‘Hooten and the Lady.’ She is truly the greatest! 
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movieexpert1978 · 2 years
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Just Listen
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I wrote this story a while back and I finally got around to typing it. This is based off of Alfred’s character in Monday Mornings. I’ve never seen the show, but I plan to some day. I got inspired by a post that I put in the link about. 
credit to the post goes to @illiana-mystery​    
This scene really hit home for me and helped me write this story as a little venting. TW suicide attempt, self harm, issues with mental health, swearing, 
The drive to the hospital was a bit of a blur. She hears people talking about all sorts of things. She thinks someone tells her to stay awake, but she doesn’t want to listen. She feels tired and her stomach is bothering her. There’s a lot of pain in her arm as well. She feels her body being wheeled around inside. She thinks people are asking for her name. she mumbles when someone flashes a light in her eyes. She hears more talking and something is put over her face. She thinks she feels something pinching her before she passes out.
Xxxxxxx
When she wakes up again everything is sore. Her stomach hurts and her throat feels so dry. She sits up only to yelp in pain from her arm. She looks to see the stitches are bandaged carefully. She goes quiet as she last back down wanting to curl up and disappear. When a nurse comes in she answers her questions and gets her blood drawn.
“Do you have anyone that you want us to call?” She asks.
“No, thank you.” The nurse nods quietly and leaves. She stares out the window for a while. She doses in and out of sleep as a nurse comes in to check on her. When a doctor comes in finally, she’s already got a good impression of him. He does an introduction before he sits down and starts to ask question.
“What made you want to attempt suicide?”
“I’m not sure…it’s complicated.”
“Trouble with the family or a significant other?”
“No, I live alone.”
“Any pets?”
“No, I wanted a dog but I haven’t gotten around to it.”
“Are you taking any medications?”
“Just birth-control.”
“No anti-depressants?”
“No, I haven’t had them since I was about eighteen I think.”
“You’re…thirty now,” he comments looking at his notes. “Do you work?”
“Yeah, full time in a factory and this summer part time at a park.”
“You sound like you have it made,” the doctor shrugs.
“I still feel like I don’t. I feel random shots of pain through my body. I have horrible thoughts at night when I lay in bed. I just feel like I’m going through the motions of life half the time,” she explains.
“Well thirty is a significant point in life. You could go see a therapist. We’ll set you up with one before you leave. You’ll be going up to they psych ward for observation,” the doctor says. He tucks his pen away and leaves without another word, making her frown.
“Thanks for the talk,” she huffs. She picks away at her food, not really eating much except for the Jell-o. She’s only allowed water for the moment too.
“Am I going to see the doctor again?” She asks when the nurse comes back in.
“Probably not, he has more severe patients,” she answers.
“I thought every case was severe,” she nearly snaps. The nurse doesn’t say anymore as she writes down her notes and leaves. After awhile she gets up and heads into the hallway. She sees a woman working at the desk so she heads over there. “I want to be discharged,” she states.
“I’m sorry but I’m not in a position to do that,” she says kindly.
“I don’t care, I want to get out of this hospital now!” She snaps/
“Miss please, if you go back to your room I’m sure we can figure something out.”
“No one is listening to me! I want to get out of this fucking hospital now!” She shouts.
“Excuse me, young lady.” A concerned doctor hurries over to her. He’s tall, wearing glasses and a bow tie. “I’m Doctor Harding Hooten, perhaps I can help,” he suggests gently. She couldn’t help but think that with his size he’d be a security guard instead of a doctor. “Come on…let me take you back to your room and we can talk,” he says offering his hand. She hesitantly takes it and guides her slowly back to bed. He makes sure that she’s comfortable and the blankets cover her nicely.
“What’s wrong?”
“I tried to kill myself and all they say is go to a therapist and you’re having a sort of mid-life crisis. We’ve got more severe patients to look after.”
“What? Who said that!?” He gasps.
“I don’t know the nurses name, but that’s what she said when I asked if he would come back.”
“I’m very sorry you have to hear that,” he says with true sympathy. She looks away to hide her sudden tears.
“I don’t know what to do. I just feel like I’m here…so what,” she sniffles wiping her eyes.
“Do you have any family or friends I can call for you?”
“No, they’re all over the place and I don’t really have much friends.”
“Well could you talk to me?” He asks hesitantly.
“Only if you listen.” He squeezes her hand gently.
“I’m listening.”
“I turned thirty this year. I think that’s when it started.”
“What did?”
“Just overthinking a lot of things. I mean I over think a lot. I have a house, a car, a full time job with benefits…a lot of people seem to think that I have my life sorted out, but I don’t really feel that way,” she admits.
“To be honest, there really is no right age to have your life in order. I’m sixty and sometimes I look around and wonder what the hell am I doing?” He smiles.
“What! You’re sixty?” She gasps, making him nod. “You don’t look a day over forty-five.” Hooten gave a hearty laugh at that.
“I certainly wish,” he smiles. She looks down at her hands, picking away at her fingers, another sign of anxiety.
“So am I just going to go up to the psych ward and be left alone in a room all weekend?” She mumbles sadly.
“No,” Hooten stated. She looked up at him hesitantly. “I’m not going to send you up there. you’ve been through enough. It might take another day or so but I’m going to set you up with a therapist and a psychologist before you leave here. I will also get you set up with some medication as well.
“I can start with that,” she says quietly.
“Also I’ll need some information about your place of work. I’m going to put you on sick leave for at least a month.”
“A month! No, I can’t do that!” She gasps.
“I saw notes that said you’re working two jobs. To be blunt you’re burnt out, but that’s ok,” he says gently. “I’ll do most of the brunt work. You need healthy coping skills so this doesn’t happen again. I know I certainly don’t want this to happen again,” he says giving her hand another squeeze. “I’m going to be checking up on you too. Don’t think for a second that I see you as another patient to just shove off to others,” he huffs. She smiles a little.
“Thank you…this really means a lot to me,” she whispers, tears stinging her eyes again. He wraps an arm around her and finally starts sobbing. He just carefully rubs her back in comfort. She cries long enough to get his shoulder wet, but he doesn’t mind at all. He does stop her when she starts to hyperventilate. He guides breathing along to help her avoid a panic attack.
“Thank you for listening doctor I wish there were more people like you.”
“I couldn’t agree more.”
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clark-hailey77 · 5 months
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Jonathan Bailey - VMAN Magazine [Fall 2023] Photography by Nathaniel Goldberg
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jbaileyfansite · 2 years
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Jonathan Bailey as Edward (aka the perfect boyfriend)
Hooten and The Lady (1x05)
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fanwritersposts · 2 years
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Welcome to my account
This account is where I write my stories and this here is my masterlist and requests you can make.
Masterlist
Request are open
Rules
The rules here are important and if you break or say something in the request that is involved in the won't write list, then it will be ignored or blocked.
Things I'll write:
Angst/Hurt & Comfort
Mentions of alcohol or drugs in the past
Mentions of cheating in the past
AU(Alternate Universe)
OC insert
Headcanons
Long stories(up to 3-10 part story)
One-shot stories
Things I won't write:
Polygamy
NSFW
Abusive relationship
Cheating/affairs
Smut
Rape or sexual harassment
Yandere
Fat phobic and homophobic mentions
Any offensive or hateful comments
These are the kind of characters I will write about if you make a request, Alfred Molina Characters(definitely focused on) and Doctor Octopus variants(I just thought why not do that also). I'll update the list when I see more movies with Alfred Molina in it.
Alfred Molina Characters
Otto Octavius/Doc Ock (Spider-Man 2 & No Way Home)
Maxim Horvath (Sorcerer's Apprentice)
Rahad Jackson (Boogie Nights)
Roger Stephenson (Roger and Val Just got in)
Randall Pepperidge (Pink Panther )
Edy Rodriguez (Nothing like the holidays)
Jim Bussey (The Water Man)
Satipo (Indiana Jones raiders of the lost ark)
Stephen Arden (Species)
Snidely K. Whiplash (Dudley do right)
Sheikh Amar (Prince of Persia)
Manuel Aringarosa (Da Vinci Code)
Diego Rivera (Frida)
Boris Plots (Undertaking Betty/Plot of view)
Hugh Weldon (Pete's Meteor)
Harding Hooten (Monday Morning)
Ben Weeks (Normal Hearts)
Ricardo Morales (Law & Order LA)
Jimmy Stiles (Ladies man)
Cliff Gray (Orchids)
Paul Weller (Breakable You)
Dr. Edelweiss (Angie Tribeca)
Doc Ock Characters
Raimi Doc Ock(just a reminder)
TSSM Doc Ock
USM Doc Ock
PS4 Doc Ock
Share your requests here in this post
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dear-indies · 1 year
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Hello! I hope the holidays are treating you well! I was wondering if you'd be able to help me with some face claim ideas! I'm searching for something a little bit historical. (Female anywhere between 20s-early 30s. Aesthetic/vibe of Evelyn O'Connell from The Mummy movies.) Someone that might be befitting of a Adventurer and or treasure hunter! Thank you so much in advance!
Annet Mahendru (1985) Punaji Indian / Russian - her role in The Walking Dead: World Beyond.
May Calamawy (1986) Jordanian, Palestinian / Egyptian - her role in Moonknight.
Alba Flores (1986) Romani.
Ophelia Lovibond (1986) - her role in Hooten & the Lady.
Anupriya Goenka (1987) Indian.
Kelly Marie Tran (1989) Vietnamese - her role in Star Wars.
Kylie Bunbury (1989) Afro Guyanese / Swedish, as well as Polish, English, and German - her roles in Big Sky and Warning.
Hannah John-Kamen (1989) Nigerian / Norwegian - her roles in Resident Evil, The Stranger, and Killjoys.
Gratiela Brancusi (1989) Romani - 1883.
Nafessa Williams (1989) African-American - her role in Black Lightning.
Nathalie Emmanuel (1989) English, Saint Lucian, Dominican.
Kiki Layne (1991) African-American - her role in The Old Guard.
Tanaya Beatty (1991) Da’naxda’xw and Himalayan - her roles in Yellowstone and Through The Spruce.
Amanda Magalhães (1991) Brazilian - her role in 3%.
Sofia Black-D'Elia (1991) Ashkenazi Jewish / Italian.
Cynthia Senek (1991) Brazilian - her role in 3%.
Poppy Drayton (1991) - her role in The Shannara Chronicles.
Naomi Ackie (1992) Afro Grenadian - her role in Star Wars.
Medalion Rahimi (1992) Iranian, Mizrahi Jewish - did take a role in the Pam & Tommy show so use at your own discretion.
Adria Arjona (1992) Guatemalan / Puerto Rican - her role in Andor.
Laysla De Oliveira (1992) Brazilian - her role in Locke & Key.
Olivia Liang (1993) Chinese - her role in Kung Fu.
Maia Mitchell (1993)
Jessica Green (1993) - her role in The Outpost.
Ivana Baquero (1994) - her role in The Shannara Chronicles.
Taylor Russell (1994) Black Canadian / European - her roles in the Escape Room movies.
Ebru Şahin (1994) Turkish.
Natacha Karam (1995) Lebanese / Irish.
Jessie Mei Li (1995) Hongkonger / English - gender non-nonconforming woman - she/they - their role in Shadow and Bone.
Sophia Ali (1995) Pakistani - her roles in Uncharted and The Wilds.
Tsuchiya Tao (1995) Japanese - her role in Alice in Borderland.
Alexa Mansour (1996) Mexican and Egyptian - her role in The Walking Dead: World Beyond.
Brittany O'Grady (1996) Louisiana Creole [African, French] / English, Irish, as well as Swiss-German, German, Welsh, and Dutch.
Alba Baptista (1997) - her role in Warrior Nun.
Sisi Stringer (1997) African Australian - her role in The Vampire Academy.
Alaqua Cox (1997) Menominee and Mohican - she is Deaf and an amputee who uses a prosthetic leg - her role in Hawkeye.
Here you go!
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writingsofhubris · 5 months
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↞ | ← | Master | AO3 | →
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Ch 7. Prepared for all the things to be said, or left unsaid. Rating: E WC: 1.5k Tags: Lovecraftian Monster(s), Human/Monster Romance, Oviposition, Tentacle Sex, Cancer Ship: Harding Hooten/Reader Disc: You'd met Harding elsewhere, even though you'd never talked for more than a few minuets. When you'd stopped into his emergency room, when you'd visited Chelsea, you found yourself looking at a man you'd known only in passing heading your care. He'd led you through tumultuous questions, opened up as easily as any of the surgeons could open up a person. Somehow, you'd been drawn to Harding, and he was willing to take you up on your offer.
Harding's skin was pale in the faint morning light. A spattering of dark hair spread over his chest, slowly rising and lowering as he continued to breathe. Your fingers trailed over his skin, soreness making itself known. Your leg shifted just slightly, and a wave of tightness in your core reminded you how much exercise you and he had engaged in. 
The sound of birds reached your ears, clearly trying to encourage activities of the day to begin. The stillness wouldn't be so for long, you were certain. You were wondering if these birds were fighting over the feeders Harding had installed in the backyard.
In the current void of activity, the shifting blankets falling from your legs was deafening. Moving from Harding's skin, you looked down your own body. Scratches littered your body, each speaking to a new spot that Harding had ravished. Bites made a garter around one leg, whilst a thin line surrounding your other thigh matched. His claws were new, and you hoped they never went away. The tips of your fingers ran over that thin mark, before sliding up to feel the thin, silvery lines stretching up your stomach. You were sure you could fit more than Harding had designated last night, if it took a bit more practice. The chemicals that he fucked into you would assure that; your body could hold more than what it had been given so far. 
Harding had woken in your distraction, watching your fingers play with the marks on your body. A tentacle slipped up your leg, wrapping around your thigh. 
“Good morning, Harding.” 
“Good morning, my dear. How did you sleep?” You rolled closer to him, his arm wrapping around your waist. 
“Good, until I woke up cold.” Just rolling over and having him pull you closer was making the difference you needed. Your morning breath mixed, intimate and disgusting in a viscerally human way. Your hand moved up to his cheek, holding onto the feel of stubble that had grown in overnight. Unthinking, you leant closer to kiss him, a soft hum falling from your lips. He was comfortable, he was relaxing. And right now, Harding was loving and warm. When you pulled back from the kiss, Harding brushed his nose against yours, his laugh suddenly reverberated through you. It wasn’t like normal, it wasn’t his carefully held laughter in public. The laugh shook through your body on another level that you didn’t even know could exist. 
His laugh seemed to brush through your soul, warming not just your body, but your soul. Your lips pressed to his again, not even considering how fast you leant in for more. His laugh trailed into a soft moan, hand moving to cup your cheek. 
Your lips slowly moved down from his, kissing a line down his neck. His arm pulled your body closer to his, pulled your body onto his. Your legs spread to either side of his hips, resting on him. Your feet hooked onto his legs, effectively stilling them. Excitement took control of your hands, wrapping your hands around his wrists. Pushed to the mattress, he let you keep him pinned as you pressed kisses to his skin. His head tilted back, allowing you more space, more skin to worship.
Harding allowed you a fill of simply enjoying him. His tentacles materialized only enough to rub and hold your thighs, sliding through the fabrics covering your body. The tip flicked and teased, but didn’t penetrate you. He was humoring you, you were certain. 
But how to break his concentration, his resolve was what you were focused on. His skin, his nails slowly growing into claws, the edges of his container fading just slightly in those moments. It wouldn’t take much, if he was already slipping at those two spots. Only for you would Harding slip in any way. 
Your lips moved to his neck, pressing kisses against the line of his neck, shoulders, chest, until your stomachs growled. 
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That night found the roles reversed. Harding now pinning you to the mattress, you arched up into him. He wasn’t using even a fraction of his full force, his strength too great to use on you. But in this moment, with his hand around your throat, you couldn’t care. Breathing was hard, but he couldn’t hurt you. His fingers were too skilled at feeling pulse points, even with his claws out this late; you were safe. You might be a rabbit in a wolf’s maw, but when his claw trailed down your throat, and his lips pressed to your pulse after, it was clear his hunger wasn’t in his gut. Your body shivered, and Harding’s thumb brushed against your throat. 
He felt you swallow hard, before taking a deep breath in. That claw trailed back over your jaw, tilting your head to look him in the eyes. 
“Pretty, fragile human,” he murmured, as if he was talking to himself. “My pretty, fragile human.”
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The din of the restaurant was a comfort, allowing you a breath of humanity. These days, sitting around and simply listening to snippets of conversations certainly brought you closer to the world you’d almost lost those months ago. A quick push of your still short hair, just to feel it spring back in the place it just had been. For just a moment, your eyes unfocused, allowed your mind to just drift back into the din and listen. 
“...Would I have seen any of these paintings?” Finally, you looked up from the single flower you had zoned out on, upon hearing Harding’s voice. You could hear that curious, pointed tone he could affect sometimes, cutting and curious all in one. 
“Well, we actually have had an exhibition in the Rothko Pavilion a while ago. We were lucky to not have any rain that day.” Your Mama’s voice answered his question. You remembered it vividly. In the cool morning of a summer day, you’d helped set up some tents on the off chance the weather turned sour. It had remained sunny, warm, beautiful more than anyone could have hoped for, for your mama’s return to the art world. Her unofficial hiatus during your treatment had been noted, despite her best efforts. Sure, she had continued to produce art, but it was never debuted, your treatment finding priority over it. “I was allowed one piece to remain in the local wing, as a small pride of mine.” 
“A wing that provides much comfort on lonely days.” 
“To you?” 
“Indeed. Often, in fact.” 
“And has our dear child brought you to my art?” Your mama’s voice was playful, but the cast down eyes told you everything they’d need to know. Their laughter was joined by Harding’s after a moment, and you looked up to see your Mom taking a drink of her wine. 
“I suppose that’s all the answer we can hope to get.” 
“We will, one day,” you feebly tried. 
“Tell us, Harding. Do you have any family?” 
“I do,” he responded, though his response was suddenly taken by the staff showing up with the food you’d been waiting for; a large variety of selections, all as individual as each of you. 
“You were saying?” You prompted Harding then, allowing your food to cool. 
“That I have two younger brothers. Astor and Edwin, though they did not come over to America. Their lives still remain over in Britain, though it is nice to visit them when I have the chance.”
“And what are they like?” Your mom’s question prompted Harding into explaining just what his brothers were like, just what their interests were. Each question received a full answer, and you realized you didn’t quite understand all of Harding’s family. 
But you did understand you felt a desire to have your own children with him, to enable his family line to continue. Maybe you’d be able to give his brothers nieces and nephews. The thought was sudden, and unexpected. You cleared the thoughts with a small shake of your head, and once again looked back at Harding, clueing back into the conversation at the end. 
“Excuse me for a moment,” Harding cut in, before anyone was able to ask another question. Your mom motioned for him to take his leave, and he did. 
“How old is he, again?” 
“Mom.”
“What!” 
“Harding’s age doesn’t have anything to do with this. Besides, he’s respectful as could be despite his age.” Her hands went up in a sign of resignation, a smile on her lips. The teasing tone was clear, the humor extended and your head shook slightly in mock frustration. As your mother, you knew it was her duty to give you grief over such a small nonissue. 
“Well, I just want to make sure his job’s secure.” 
“It wouldn’t matter too terribly much if it wasn’t… but he is. Chief of staff, Harding’s got his hands in a lot of pies that are too important to drop.” Frankly, it wasn’t your place to admit how well off you’d be regardless. He had had a long time to save money, and if any complications came into your life, it wouldn't be about his money. 
“We’re required to worry.” 
“Oh, hush mama. How’s your dinner?” You lifted your eyes to see Harding returning through a grand arch; restrooms to take a breath, you had to assume. Your mothers could be a lot for anyone, even yourself. His steps were light, but when he rejoined you all, his lips pressed against your temple. 
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