#THAT HAS BEEN COOKING IN MY HEART FOR A WHILE NOW. SIMMERING FOR MONTHS BEFORE FINALLY BOILING OVER IN THE LAST WEEK

[demigod-of-the-agni]

Spider-Man India, but... where from India?

A SUPER long post featuring talks of: cultural identity, characterisation, the caste system, and what makes Spider-Man Spider-Man.

I’m prefacing this by saying that I am a second-generation immigrant. I was born in Australia, but my cultural background is from South India. My experiences with what it means to be “Indian” is going to be very different from the experiences of those who are born and brought up in India.

If you, reader, want to add anything, please reblog and add your thoughts. This is meant to be a post open for discussion — the more interaction we get, the better we become aware of these nuances.

So I made this poll asking folks to pick a region of India where I would draw Pavitr Prabhakar in their cultural wear. This idea had been on my mind for a long while now, as I had been inspired by Annie Hazarika’s Northeastern Spidey artwork in the wake of ATSV’s release, but never got the time to actually do it until now. I wanted to get a little interactive and made the poll so I could have people choose which of the different regions — North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South — to do first.

The outcome was not what I expected. As you can see, out of 83 votes:

THE RESULTS

South India takes up almost half of all votes (44.6%), followed by Northeast and Central (both 14.5%) and then East (13.3%). In all my life growing up, support towards or even just the awareness of South India was pretty low. Despite this being a very contained poll, why would nearly half of all voters pick South India in favour of other popular choices like Central or North India?

Then I thought about the layout of the poll: Title, Options, Context.

Title: "Tell us who you want to see…"

Options: North, Northeast, Central, East, West, South

Context: I want to make art of the boy again

At first I thought: ah geez. this is my fault. I didn't make the poll clear enough. do they think I want them to figure out where Pavitr came from? That's not what I wanted, maybe I should have added the context before the options.

Then I thought: ah geez. is it my fault for people not reading the entire damn thing before clicking a button? That's pretty stupid.

But regardless, the thought did prompt a line of thinking I know many of us desi folk have been considering since Spider-Man India was first conceived — or, at least, since the announcement that he was going to appear in ATSV. Hell, even I thought of it:

Where did Spider-Man India come from?

FROM A CULTURALLY DIVERSE INDIA

As we know, India is so culturally diverse, and no doubt ATSV creators had to take that into account. Because the ORIGINAL Spider-Man India came from Mumbai — most likely because Mumbai and Manhattan both started with the same letter.

But going beyond that, it’s also because Mumbai is one of the most recognisable cities in India - it’s also known as Bombay. It’s where Bollywood films are shot. It’s where superstar Hindi actors and actresses show up. Mumbai is synonymous with India in that regard, because the easiest way Western countries can interact with Indian culture is through BOLLYWOOD, through HINDI FILMS, through MUMBAI. Suddenly, India is Mumbai, India is a Hindi-only country, India is just this isolated thing we see through an infinitely narrow lens.

We’ve gotten a little better in recent years, but boy I will tell you how uncomfortable I’ve gotten when people (yes, even desi people) come up to me and tell me, Oh, you’re Indian right? Can you speak Hindi? Why don’t you speak Hindi? You’re not Indian if you don’t speak Hindi, that’s India’s national language!

I have been — still am — so afraid of telling people that I don’t speak Hindi, that I’m Tamil, that I don’t care that Hindi is India’s “national” language (it’s an administrative language, Kavin, get your fucking facts right). It’s weird, it’s isolating, and it has made me feel like I wasn’t “Indian” enough to be accepted into the group of “Indian” people.

So I am thankful that ATSV went out of their way to integrate as much variety of Indian culture into the Mumbattan sequence. Maybe that way, the younger generation of desi folk won’t feel so isolated, and that younger Western people will be more open to learning about all these cultural differences within such a vast country.

BUT WHAT DOES THIS HAVE TO DO WITH SPIDER-MAN INDIA?

Everything, actually. There’s a thing called supremacy. You might have heard of it. We all engaged with it at some point, and if you are Indian, no matter where you live, it is inescapable.

It happens the moment you are born — who your family is, where you are born, the language you speak, the colour of your skin; these will be bound to you for life, and it is nigh impossible to break down the stereotypes associated with them.

Certain ethnic groups will be more favourable than others (Centrals, and thus their cultures, will always be favoured over than Souths, as an example) and the same can be said for social groups (Brahmins are more likely to secure influential roles in politics or other areas like priesthood, while the lowers castes, especially Dalits, aren’t even given the decency of respect). Don’t even get me started on colourism, where obviously those of fairer skin will win the lottery while those of darker skin aren’t given the time of day. It’s even worse when morality ties into it — “lighter skinned Indians, like Brahmins, embody good qualities like justice and wisdom”, “dark skinned Indians are cunning and poor, they are untrustworthy”. It’s fucking nuts.

This means, of course, you have a billion people trying to make themselves heard in a system that tries to crush everyone who is not privileged. It only makes sense that people want to elevate themselves and break free from a society that refuses to acknowledge them. These frustrations manifest outwardly, like in protests, but other times — most times — it goes unheard, quietly shaping your way of life, your way of thinking. It becomes a fundamental part of you, and it can go unacknowledged for generations.

So when you have a character like Pavitr Prabhakar enter the scene, people immediately latch onto him and start asking questions many Western audiences don’t even consider. Who is he? What food does he eat? What does he do on Fridays? What’s his family like, his community? All these questions pop up, because, amidst all this turmoil going on in the background, you want a mainstream popular character to be like you, who knows your way of life so intimately, that he may as well be a part of your community.

BUT THAT'S THE THING — HE'S FICTIONAL

I am guilty of this. In fact, I’ve flaunted in numerous posts how I think he’s the perfect Tamil boy, how he dances bharatanatyam, how he does all these Tamil things that no one will understand except myself. All these niche things that only I, and maybe a few others, will understand.

I’ve seen other people do it, too. I’ve seen people geek out over his dark brown skin, his kalari dhoti, how he fights so effortlessly in the kalaripayattu martial arts style. I’ve seen people write him as Malayali, as Hindi, as every kind of Indian person imaginable.

I’ve also seen him be written where he’s subjected to typical Indian and broader Asian stereotypes. You know the ones I’m so fond of calling out. The thing is, I’ve seen so much of Pavitr being presented in so many different ways, and I worry how the rest of the desi folk will take it. 

You finally have a character who could be you, but now he’s someone else’s plaything. Your entire life is shaped by what you can and can’t do simply because you were born to an Indian family, and here’s the one person who could represent you now at the mercy of someone else’s whims. He’s off living a life that is so distant from yours, you can hardly recognise him.

It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does, yeah? But, again, you’re looking at it from that infinitely narrow lens Westerners use to look at India from Bollywood.

AND PAVITR PRABHAKAR DOESN'T LIVE IN INDIA

He lives in Mumbattan. He lives in a made-up, fictional world that doesn’t follow the way of life of our world. He lives in a city where Mumbai and Manhattan got fucking squashed together. There are so many memes about colonialism right there. Mumbattan isn’t real! Spider-Man India isn’t real!! He’s just a dude!! The logic of our world doesn’t apply to him!!!

“But his surname originates from ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he’s wearing a kalari dhoti so surely he’s ______” okay but does that matter?

“But his skin colour is darker so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

“But he lives in Mumbai so he must be ______” okay but does that matter?

I sound insensitive and brash and annoying and it looks like I’m yapping just for the sake of riling you up, so direct that little burst of anger you got there at me, and keep reading.

Listen. I’m going to ask you a question that I’ve asked myself a million times over. I want you to answer honestly. I want you to ask this question to yourself and answer honestly:

Are you trying to convince me on who Pavitr Prabhakar should be?

... but why shouldn't i?

I’ll tell you this again — I did the same thing. You’re not at fault for this, but I want you to just...have a little think over. Just a little moment of self-reflection, to think about why you are so intent on boxing this guy.

It took me a while to reorganise my thinking and how to best approach a character like Pavitr, so I will give you all the time you need as well as a little springboard to focus your thoughts on.

SPIDER-MAN (INDIA) IS JUST A MASK

“What I like about the costume is that anybody reading Spider-Man in any part of the world can imagine that they themselves are under the costume. And that’s a good thing.”

Stan Lee said that. Remember how he was so intent on making sure that everybody got the idea that Spider-Man as an entity is fundamentally broken without Peter Parker there to put on the suit and save the day? That ultimately it was the person beneath the mask, no matter who they were, that mattered most?

Spider-Man India is no less different. You can argue with me that Peter Parker!Spidey is supposed to represent working class struggles in the face of leering corporate entities who endanger the regular folk like us, and so Pavitr Prabhakar should also function the same way. Pavitr should also be a working class guy of this specific social standing fighting people of this other social standing.

But that takes away the authenticity of Spider-Man India. Looking at him through the Peter Parker lens forces you to look at him through the Western lens, and it significantly lessens what you can do with the character — suddenly, it’s a fight to be heard, to be seen, to be recognised. It’s yelling over each other that Pavitr Prabhakar is this ethnicity, is that caste, this or that, this or that, this or that.

There’s a reason why he’s called Spider-Man India, infuriatingly vague as it is. And that’s the point — the vagueness of his identity fulfils Lee’s purpose for a character that could theoretically be embodied by anyone. If he had been called “Spider-Man Mumbai”, you cut out a majority of the population (and in capitalist terms, you cut out a good chunk of the market).

And in the case of Spider-Man India? Whew — you’ve got about a billion people imagining a billion different versions of him.

Whoever you are, whatever you see in Pavitr, that is what is personal to you, and there is nothing wrong with that, and I will not fault you for it. I will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from Central due to the origins of his last name. I also will not fault you for saying Pavitr is from South due to him practising kalaripayattu. I also will not fault you for saying he is not Hindu. I also will not fault you for saying he is a particular ethnicity without any proof.

What I will fault you for is trying to convince me and the others around you that Pavitr Prabhakar should be this particular ethnicity/have this cultural background because of some specific reason. I literally don’t care and it is fundamentally going against his character, going against the “anyone can wear the mask” sentiment of Spider-Man. By doing this, you are strengthening the walls that first divided us. You’re feeding the stratification and segmentation of our cultures — something that is actually not present in the fictional world of Mumbattan.

Like I said before: Mumbattan isn’t real, so the divides between ethnicities and cultural backgrounds are practically nonexistent. The best thing is that it is visually there for all to see. My favourite piece of evidence is this:

It’s a marquee for a cinema in the Mumbattan sequence, in the “Quick tour: this is where the traffic is” section. It has four titles; the first two are written in Hindi. The third title is written in Bengali*, and the fourth title is written in Tamil. You go to Mumbai and you won’t see a single shred of Bengali nor Tamil there, much less any other language that's not common in Maharashtra (Western India). Seeing this for the first time, you know what went through my head?

Wow, the numerous cultures of India are so intermingled here in Mumbattan! Everyone and everything is welcome!

I was happy, not just because of Tamil representation, but because of the fact that the plethora of Indian cultures are showcased coexisting in such a short sequence. This is India embracing all the little parts that make up its grander identity. This scene literally opened my eyes seeing such beauty in all the diverse cultures thriving together. In a place where language and cultural backgrounds blend so easily, each one complementing one another.

It is so easy to believe that, from this colourful palette of a setting, Pavitr Prabhakar truly is Spider-Man India, no matter where he comes from.

It’s easy to believe that Pavitr can come from any part of India, and I won’t call you out if the origin you have for him is different from the origin I have. You don’t need to stake out territory and stand your ground — you’re entitled to that opinion, and I respect it. In fact, I encourage it!!!

Because there’s only so much you can show in a ten minute segment of a film about a country that has such a vast history and even greater number of cultures. I want to see all of it — I want him to be a Malayali boy, a Hindi boy, a Bengali boy, a Telugu boy, an Urdu boy, whatever!! I want you to write him or draw him immersed in your culture, so that I can see the beauty of your background, the wonderful little things that make your culture unique and different from mine!

And, as many friends have said, it’s so common for Indian folks to be migrating around within our own country. A person with a Maharashtrian surname might end up living in Punjab, and no one really minds that. I’m actually from Karnataka, my family speaks Kannada, but somewhere down the line my ancestors moved to Tamil Nadu and settled down and lived very fulfilling lives. So I don’t actually have the “pure Tamil” upbringing, contrary to popular belief; I’ve gotten a mix of both Kannada and Tamil lifestyles, and it’s made my life that much richer. 

So it’s common for people to “not” look like their surname, if that’s what you’re really afraid about. In fact, it just adds to that layer of nuance, that even despite these rigid identities between ethnicities we as Indian people still intermingle with one another, bringing slivers of our cultures to share with others. Pavitr could just as well have been born in one state and moved around the country, and he happens to live in Mumbattan now. It’s entirely possible and there’s nothing to disprove that.

We don’t need to clamber over one another declaring that only one ethnicity is the “right” ethnicity, because, again, you will be looking at Pavitr and the rest of India in that narrow Western lens — a country with such rich cultural variety reduced to a homogenous restrictive way of life.

THE POLL: REINTERPRETED

This whole thing started because I was wondering why my little poll was so skewed — I thought people assumed I was asking them where he came from, then paired his physical appearance with the most logical options available. I thought it was my fault, that I had somehow influenced this outcome without knowing.

Truth is, I will never really know. But I will be thankful for it, because it gave me the opportunity to finally broach this topic, something that many of us desi folk are hesitant to talk about. I hope you have learned something from this, whether you are desi or a casual Spider-Man fan or someone who just so happened to stumble upon this. 

So just…be a little more open. Recognise that India, like many many countries and nations, is made up of a plethora of smaller cultures. And remember, if you’re trying to convince Pavitr that he’s a particular ethnicity, he’s going to wave his hand at you and say, “Ha, me? No, I’m one of the people that live here in the best Indian city! I’m Spider-Man India, dost!”

(Regardless, he still considers you a friend, because to him, the people matter more to him than you trying to box him into something he’s not.)

*Note: thank you dear anon for letting me know that the third title was Bengali, twas my mistake for literally completely forgetting

[hetacon]

So you guys know how the most recent thing I posted was a Sidlink fic? That was because I actually got into BOTW about a year ago (it’s been one of the fandoms that kind of just simmers in the back of my brain at all times), and that was pretty much my only knowledge of Legend of Zelda, just that one game…

Oops, now it’s all of them!!

Somehow I wound up getting invested in Linked Universe because of a Sidlink fic and now it’s the only thing on my brain as of the past month and a half! Unsurprisingly given how I got into it in the first place, Wild is my favorite, but I must say that they’ve all weaseled their way into my heart, particularly Twilight and Legend (and outside of the chain, Ravio as well)! The LOZ mania has gotten so intense that I actually bought and am playing through A Link Between Worlds right now and am legit making a Ravio cosplay, help-

All of the poses I drew here were from @mellon-soup’s wonderful references, I love using them for inspiration when I’m not quite sure what to draw, and when I saw the first one, I just knew I had to draw Legend and Ravio!

I’ll put a few of my thoughts on the drawings under the cut if anyone’s interested in hearing about them

1) I love Ravioli so much, their dynamic brings me much joy. I’m very proud of how Legend’s expression turned out

2) I’m absolutely obsessed with the fairy Hyrule headcanon, there are so many cute pieces of art people have drawn of him! I’m surprised I managed to get so much detail on his face given how tiny he is. Also Sky is a total sweetheart and the thought of him protecting Hyrule from the rain was simply too adorable for me not to draw the two of them!

3) I am very emotional over Twilight and Wild’s sibling dynamic! The idea of Twi getting caught sneaking food while Wild’s cooking dinner was very funny to me and so I drew it! I really like all of the little details in this drawing, Wild’s scars are probably my favorite detail. And though I’ve never drawn a wolf before, I think I did pretty good! Originally I was just going to draw Twi taking a small piece of meat or something but then I thought “Nah, it’s gonna be an entire fish!” I headcanon that whenever he’s in wolf form, his metabolism increases and so he needs to eat more food to maintain his energy. Since he mainly transforms to fight, track, or comfort Wild, he’s earned an entire fish! Also it’s important to me that you know that the fish is specifically a staminoka bass :))

4) If you find the pose reference I used for Wind, you probably will notice that I actually flipped it so that he was holding the Wind Waker in his left hand. As a leftie myself, I really love it when characters I love are also left-handed!

Also on the topic of hands in general, can I just say how proud I am of all the hands in these 4 drawings??? They’re so good, we love good hand days

[aesethewitch]

Beef Stew Recipe - Potion of Fortitude

Whether it's been an exhausting week, a frigid winter's day, or just a stressful time, few things are more comforting than a hearty bowl of stew. I make this beef stew for myself whenever I need a true pick-me-up or when I'm preparing for an in-depth magical working. It provides lasting energy, warmth, and strength.

Plus, this recipe is scalable - make a ton and freeze it to enjoy for weeks or just make a little bit for one meal. The measurements below are approximate; measure with your heart.

Ingredients:

Chuck roast, cut to half-inch cubes (you can get pre-chunked stew meat, which is what I typically get)

Flour, enough to coat the beef

Salt and Pepper (about 1 tsp salt & 1/2 tsp pepper), for seasoning the beef coating

2 tablespoons Unsalted Butter

1 Onion, diced

2 Large Potatoes, peeled and cut into half-inch to one-inch cubes

2 Carrots, peeled and cut into rounds

5-6 Cloves of Garlic, finely diced

4 cups Beef Broth

Herbs of your choice, such as: Sage, Thyme, Marjoram, Celery Seed, Bay, Chili Flakes

Additional veggies of your choice, such as: Parsnips, Turnips, Bok Choy

Salt and Pepper to taste

Instructions:

Mix together your flour, salt, and pepper in a bowl. Toss the beef chunks in the mixture to coat. This will create a nice brown crispiness on the outside.

In your stew pot, sauté your flour-coated beef until browned on all sides. Remove from the pot and set aside.

Add more oil to your pot and cook your onion until translucent. If you don't mind soft carrots in your stew, add them now and cook until just starting to soften and brown. (Note: I often leave the carrots until after the potatoes are nearly cooked through because I don't like the texture of fully-cooked carrots.)

Once your onions are translucent and your carrots have started to soften/brown, toss in your butter and scrape the bottom of the pot. You want to get all those beautiful, delicious brown bits back into the mixture. You can add a little water if you need help loosening the bits.

Add your garlic and cook until fragrant, about 30 seconds.

Put your beef back into the pot (along with any drippings from the plate/bowl you placed it in). Pour your broth over everything and give it all a good stir.

Toss your potatoes into the pot. Bring it all to a boil and reduce your heat to let it simmer.

Add your herbs and spices. I recommend salt, pepper, sage, thyme, celery seed (or salt), and bay. If you like it spicy, you can throw in a bit of chili powder or flakes.

Simmer for at least one hour or until your potatoes are soft and your beef becomes tender, stirring occasionally.

If your stew isn't thick enough by the time your potatoes are done, you can make a cornstarch slurry by combining one tablespoon of cornstarch with two tablespoons of water. Pour the slurry into the stew and let it cook until thickened to your desired consistency.

Season with salt and pepper to taste.

Serve with crusty bread, veggie side dishes, or whatever else you like.

Optional magic you can include:

As mentioned above, I often use this recipe to bolster or replenish my energy before or after an intense magical working. It also works for physical exertions - I made this for a group of my partner's friends while they were moving heavy furniture to a new apartment, and it gave them all the energy to move everything in one night!

This stew has an intense comforting effect. If someone I know has been working hard, stressing out, or hasn't been feeding themselves properly, I'll make this for them to help them remember to take care of themselves. It's rejuvenating, hearty, and full of love.

Depending on the herbs you choose to include, this could also be a powerful protection spell. Especially in the cold months, I use this as a protective ward against the cold exhaustion that pulls at the body and mind.

Pop a bit of chili in this spell to both speed up its effects and cast out negativity! Nothing clears the sinuses like a nose full of spice, and nothing clears the body of bad vibes like a good dose of chili flake.

Like many of my spell recipes, this one is most effective when it's shared. Give a bowl to your friends, your family, your neighbors, whoever. It makes a wonderful offering to house spirits or ancestors.

If you make this recipe, please let me know your thoughts! And if you enjoy this or my other posts, please consider dropping a couple dollars in my Ko-Fi tip jar!

Happy cooking, witches! 🍲

[claraclette]

𝗮𝘁 𝗱𝗮𝘄𝗻 𝗼𝗳 𝘂𝗻𝗰𝗲𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗶𝗻 𝘁𝗼𝗺𝗼𝗿𝗿𝗼𝘄𝘀 | Simon Riley x Reader

𝗖𝗛𝗔𝗣𝗧𝗘𝗥 𝟯 | 𝖠 𝗌𝗂𝗅𝗄𝗒 𝗐𝗂𝗇𝖾 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖺 𝗐𝗈𝗈𝖽𝗒 𝗐𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗄𝖾𝗒

𝗦𝘂𝗺𝗺𝗮𝗿𝘆 ↬ 𝖥𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗋𝗈𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗍 𝖺𝗍𝗍𝖺𝖼𝗄 𝗂𝗇 𝖫𝗈𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗇 𝗍𝗈 𝗌𝗎𝗋𝗏𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝖼𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗇𝗍𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝖽𝖾𝖺𝖽 𝗂𝗇 𝖴𝗋𝗓𝗂𝗄𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗇, 𝗈𝗋 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺 𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗀𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝗓𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖾𝗌𝖼𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗋𝗈𝗆 𝖺𝗇 𝖾𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝖼𝗋𝖾𝗍 𝗆𝗂𝗅𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗋𝗒 𝗎𝗇𝗂𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝗐𝖺𝗋 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗆𝖾 𝗂𝗇 𝖬𝖾𝗑𝗂𝖼𝗈, (𝗒/𝗇) (𝗒/𝗅/𝗇)'𝗌 𝗅𝗂𝖿𝖾 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝖻𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗆𝗆𝖾𝖽 𝗎𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗉𝗁𝗋𝖺𝗌𝖾: 𝖨𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝖼𝖾 𝖺𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗐𝗋𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝗍𝗂𝗆𝖾. 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗈𝗇𝗅𝗒 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗇 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗈𝗇 𝗂𝗇 𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗌𝖾 𝗎𝗇𝖿𝗈𝗋𝗍𝗎𝗇𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗌? 𝖲𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗇 "𝖦𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍" 𝖱𝗂𝗅𝖾𝗒.

𝗪𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ↬ 𝖠𝗍𝗍𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍 𝖺𝗍 𝖧𝗎𝗆𝗈𝗋 | | 𝖦𝗋𝖺𝗉𝗁𝗂𝖼 𝖣𝖾𝗌𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 | 𝖯𝖳𝖲𝖣 | 𝖢𝗁𝗂𝗅𝖽𝗁𝗈𝗈𝖽 𝖳𝗋𝖺𝗎𝗆𝖺 | 𝖥𝗅𝗎𝖿𝖿 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝗇𝗀𝗌𝗍 | 𝖠𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖠𝖽𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖾 | 𝖤𝗏𝖾𝗇𝗍𝗎𝖺𝗅 𝖲𝗆𝗎𝗍 | 𝖲𝗅𝗈𝗐 𝖡𝗎𝗋𝗇 | 𝖥𝗋𝗂𝖾𝗇𝖽𝗌 𝗍𝗈 𝖫𝗈𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌 |

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ↬ 𝖠𝗅𝗐𝖺𝗒𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗍𝗈𝗎𝖼𝗁 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝖾𝗇𝗌𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗏𝗂𝗍𝗒 𝗈𝖿 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝖻𝗅𝖾. 𝖲𝗈𝗋𝗋𝗒 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖺𝗇𝗒 𝗌𝗉𝖾𝗅𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗍𝖺𝗄𝖾𝗌. 𝖣𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝖼𝗈𝗋𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗍 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗀𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖺 𝖼𝗋𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗊𝗎𝖾!  

𝗢𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿𝘀 ↬ 𝖠𝖮𝟥 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 | 𝖶𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗉𝖺𝖽 𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 | 𝖯𝗈𝗎𝗋 𝗅𝖾𝗌 𝗅𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗌 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗂𝗌, 𝗏𝗈𝗎𝗌 𝗉𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾𝗓 𝗋𝖾𝗍𝗋𝗈𝗎𝗏𝖾𝗋 𝗅'𝗁𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗂𝗋𝖾 𝖾𝗇 𝖿𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖼̧𝖺𝗂𝗌 𝗌𝗎𝗋 𝖠𝖮𝟥 𝗈𝗎 𝖶𝖺𝗍𝗍𝗉𝖺𝖽

𝖬𝖺𝗌𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟣 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟤 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟥 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗂𝗍𝗋𝖾 𝟦 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟧 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟨 | 𝖢𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟩 | ... |  

───────────────────────────────────

145 dead and 322 injured.  

A distressed sigh escaped me as I closed the lid of my pressure cooker, ready to simmer the stew inside. I wiped my hands as I walked out of my small kitchen, which opens onto my dining room adjoining my living room, and reached for my remote to turn off the television, where a continuous news channel was running, making my quiet flat a little more lively while I cooked.

Three weeks had passed since the series of attacks in London, which had rightly monopolised media attention. My family returned to France as soon as possible, after I refused to follow them. I couldn’t be the support they asked for and they couldn’t be mine. I had always preferred to walk on my own after such events, pretending like nothing happened, or with such detachment that it became distressing for others. ButI was like that, and to do otherwise would be far too difficult for me to handle and mentally impactful. 

I slumped on my green Mario Bellini, contrasting with the Georgian architecture of my flat and the building itself, immersed in calm. Coming home was always one of the strangest moments. Going from absolute chaos, to the most familiar calm. For the past few days, I felt drained, physically and psychologically, but always with the sentiment of having done the best I could.

There was always a before and after anyway. And we had to accept it, get used to it. That was how life goes after all. Everyone lived with their ups and downs. And the beautiful and less beautiful things. But after such traumatic events, I needed, I felt, to keep a positive perspective. And to try to escape in vain from pessimism and the idea that the darkest part of the human being will come out at some time or other. 

But today was my day off. These hospital shifts and series of surgeries had exhausted me. With no idea what to do, I decided to watch a boring movie and fall asleep to it, but my phone vibrated. Thinking a medical emergency at first, I was surprised to read an unknown number. I hesitated to answer, suspecting a scam. 

"Hello?" I said, finally picking up the phone. 

"Hello (y/n)?"

That accent, that voice...

I suddenly stood up on my couch, awakened by this call that I hadn't expected for a long time.

"Simon?" I asked, still unsure of who I was talking to. "Is that you?"

"Yes, it's me. It's been a long time." 

"Long time? Is the remorse of being stood up on Halloween too much to bear?" I teased.

I heard him clear his throat, probably embarrassed. 

"I'm kidding." I added. "I don't really care. How are you doing?" 

"I guess that's more like my job to ask. I heard about London, are you okay?" 

"Oh... Uh..." I started to stammer, taken aback.

He only called to see if I was alive after the attacks? Strange. Even after our first meeting a few months ago, he didn't even bother to contact me. And I couldn’t on my own, without his number. 

"As much as it can be." I say, before hastily inquiring. "What about you ? I hope your family is fine and that no one close to you has been hurt or killed."

"Don't worry about that." He assured me.

He didn't pursue the conversation, and not knowing what to say, I asked the first thing that popped into my head.

"How is the weather in Manchester? Does it snow? We had our first snow yesterday in London."

I slapped myself in the face. Rain or shine. What kind of uninteresting conversation was this? I came across as a conversationless goof and made the exchange all the more uncomfortable.

"I'm not in Manchester right now. I'm in London for work." 

"You're in London?" I exclaimed, pleasantly surprised. "Well, why don't we meet this afternoon? I know a lovely tearoom near the British Museum! They make delicious cakes and their teas are very good.”

I felt my heart racing slightly, apprehensive about his refusal. But as I liked saying to myself : nothing ventured, nothing gained. 

"Near the British Museum?" 

"If that's too far for you, I can find a more convenient one. Where do you stay?"

"No, no. The museum suits me."

"So you accept?" 

"Yes, but I'm only free after 4pm."

"Then we'll meet at 4.30 or 5pm in the tearoom! I'll send you the address by phone. See you later!"

"See you."

I hung up, more than delighted. My watch indicated 2pm, leaving me two solid hours to wash and get ready. Clearly, this was not a date. Or... maybe it was? But at the same time, did I really want to? 

After William... This was so recent. And this whole story had made me really question myself. I was not ready and even less made to commit me in an umpteenth relationship. And all these failures in love had made me realise one thing: my work came first. With each break-up, the subject came up like a landslide: I didn't invest enough in the relationship, I didn't offer enough affection, and when I went out into the field, I barely made a call. But as the expression went: no news is good news, right? 

More seriously, despite my desire to laugh, it was painful. Painful to know that no matter how hard I tried and how much I loved someone, that person will feel lonely and neglected enough to be forced to commit infidelity. But what could I do about it? My work meant everything to me. This was my life, my identity. It pushed me beyond my limits, stimulated me, and gave meaning to what I did. To lose him would be to lose a part of myself. 

So no, I didn't want another relationship while I continued to mourn the last one, understanding that this problem which all my partners blamed me for, will never find a solution. 

════════════════════════════════════════════════

How I adored this sweet tearoom nestled between two London streets. It was tiny and cosy, run by a welcoming family. I had arrived first and so had taken the initiative to wait inside, booking a table for two of us. The best for my taste. Near the frosted window that let you see the few passers-by wrapped up in their coats and hats, under the light snowflakes getting lost in the city. I had settled into the low wicker chair, leaving the pretty Victorian sofa for Simon if he came. It was a bit crowded, and I regularly checked the entrance behind me, and my messages, hoping for a sign of life from him. 

"(y/n)?"

I jumped at Simon's voice, not having heard him move quietly near me, too focused on my phone. My eyes went up to him. And my memories didn't fail me. Except for his stubble, better trimmed, he looked exactly the same as that night, contrary to me who, I hoped, was much more presentable. I pointed to the settee, which he accepted after taking off his coat and cap, letting his short brown hair breathe.  

"Did you find it easy?" I asked, trying to get the conversation going as quickly as possible.

"Yes, and you're right. The place is sound, must-see their tea now."

"Oh! I promise they're excellent! I always drink their black smoked vanilla tea, it's just so good. That, along with their lemon cakes. Lemon pies are my favourite. But I also recommend their banoffee." I jabbered, handing him the card that our waiter came to bring us.

He finally took an orange-flavoured Ceylon black tea, without sweets, and we could give the waiter our order.

"You look fine." He finally said, after a few seconds of silence while I fidget with my napkin.

Perhaps he realised my slight embarrassment. At least, I took this chance to talk about the latest events in my life, without confiding all the woes that weighed on my heart either. I never talked about myself, or more precisely, about my feelings, about something so intimate. I myself found it hard sometimes to put my finger on what I felt. I struggled with vulnerability, and I just didn’t understand how people could feel so comfortable sharing their pain, their uncertainties, their problems with others. This was so personal. Nevertheless, Simon was clearly intrigued by the series of attacks in London, and what better way to share my experience with him. 

"I'm actually a bit worried about my family." I confessed, glancing up at him. "I was with them in Leicester market the day of the attack and... they're deeply affected by it. Of course, I was advising them to go to a wartime psychologist, a normal psychologist would be useless, they've been through something that a normal French or British person can't experience. But I realise that it will be difficult for them to get past this event, and it kills me not to know and be able to help them as I would like."

"And you? Won't it be difficult to live with that?" He asked, clearly intrigued.

I let out a small sigh. The last thing I wanted was to come across as insensitive or mentally deranged. I needed to find the right words, and not speak without thinking as I was so good at doing. 

"I've been to war zones before, where I've been confronted with difficult things. The London attacks have... surprisingly not affected me in the way I thought they would. I don't have nightmares, I don't have post-traumatic stress disorder. But it could have."

"It's the kind o'thing you can't anticipate, after all." He added. "Ever been to a war zone?" 

"I'm a humanitarian doctor." I informed him, just as our orders arrived.

I thanked the waiter before continuing.

"I worked in the Sahel and Afghanistan with the Red Cross. Then I went to other countries, in short-term missions, especially during natural disasters." 

"And now?"

"Now I'm taking a break for a year. I'm a trauma surgeon at the St. Thomas Hospital. In spring, I'll go to Urzikstan, for six months. At one of Basat's hospitals."

"The second largest city after Sakhra." He noted. 

"Hmm..." I approved, pouring myself a cup of tea. "You know your geography well.”

"And isn't hard? Humanitarian doctor. Going from the comfort of St. Thomas to a Basat hospital."

"Of course, it's always a bit of a shock and takes time to adjust. But humanitarian medicine is such an exciting profession that requires so much commitment. Once you taste the world of humanitarianism, it's pretty hard to return to a quieter life. So this tea?" I queried as he dipped his lips into his cup.

He nodded with contentment to my great pleasure. A little more talkative than when we first met, he was interested in my job, then our conversation drifted to my life. I invited him to taste my delicious lemon pie, but he refused, claiming not to have a sweet tooth. In spite of this tête-à-tête which presents quite well, of the few jokes he was slipping here and there, a typically British humour which made me roar with laughter, something bothered me. In his behaviour, his look. 

"You know, if I ever bother you, just tell me and... we'll stop now. I don't want you to feel obligated, or to force yourself out of pity." I suddenly declared without warning.

I took him visibly by surprise at his astonished expression. Perplexed, he swallowed his steaming sip of tea as best he could and immediately asked. 

"Well, I'm enjoying myself. What makes you think not?"

Now it was my turn to feel flabbergasted, but mostly stupid. It had always been hard for me to grasp people, and more importantly to understand them by their body language. That was partly why I had always had a deep respect for these charlatan mediums, who knew how to read non-verbal language well, passing off this cold reading as clairvoyance. 

Oh God, how I lacked this, as at that precise moment when I misinterpreted Simon's behaviour, which was clear after all.

"Uh... ugh... For nothing. Never mind." I stammered before I managed to make up for it. "I just felt like I'd forced your hand on this meeting, and didn't want to ruin your day on top of that."

"Your company is more pleasant to me than mine." He joked. "Don't worry."

"You're harsh with yourself. You're a man of few words but of pleasant company." I bugged him. "I swear." 

"I get that a lot."

"Of what? That you're pleasant company?

"Hell, no. That I'm a man o' few words."

I laughed heartily and we continued joking until we finished our drinks. I insisted on paying, to his displeasure, but clearly I was much more stubborn than him. I had my way with him, and he proposed to take me home. As a gesture of gratitude, he said. I accepted without hesitation.

The first thing that greeted us as soon as we left the small tearoom was a glacial breeze winding through the city streets, slowly covered by a thin layer of snow. With a contented sigh, I completely closed my long vicuna Harlan coat, in an attempt to prevent the sudden wind from sneaking through the few openings my warm outfit could leave.

I then looked up at Simon, to see him wrapping his blushing face in the thick grey scarf he was wearing, leaving almost no skin exposed. The poor guy seemed to be enduring these winter temperatures rather badly. I let out an amused chuckle, causing him to tilt his head in my direction.

"What's so funny?" He queried in a gruff voice, muffled by the thick layer of wool covering his mouth.

"Nothing, nothing..." I reassured him as I set off.

In spite of the wintery temperatures, we preferred to walk all the way. It was a crepuscular promenade in the snowy alleys of London, still illuminated by Christmas decorations, despite the new year having started a few days ago. The two of us strolled peacefully through the quiet streets, and I had no hesitation in enlivening our conversation with anecdotes that are as far-fetched and comical as each other. My cheerful voice rose in this night as dark as ebony, shamelessly disturbing the lull of the district in which we were walking.

"Yer wot?" He exclaimed. "Did you really put a fucking whoopee in the confessional?" Simon scoffed. 

"But I was sick of it! My parents forced me to attend catechism even if I didn't want to!" I protested, faced with these events perceived as real injustices in my childhood. "After a while, my rebellious side got the better of me, and too bad if I would never be at one with God again according to my parish priest or my family." I sneered.

"I vaguely remember my childhood, but in my family, it was rather as one with whisky."

I tried to hold back my inappropriate laughter, but the strange sound that came out of my mouth didn’t go unheard.

"Sorry, I shouldn't laugh about it, it sounds awful." I said, still chuckling. "My grandpa was also more at one with wine than God."

Without further ado, I took one of my usual paths. It was a pleasant, seldom used alley. Simon began to reflect on the umpteenth conversation about a misadventure experienced during his adolescence. But he was immediately interrupted by an unexpected and disconcerting collision, shaking the back of his head. 

"Bloody fu..."

He froze, probably feeling the instant afterwards, a cold, disturbing fluid flowing down his neck, inevitably penetrating his coat. He let out a disgusted grunt as he tried in vain to prevent the snow from doing more damage. It didn’t take a genius to figure out who caused this sudden snowball attack. My contagious laughter as always shaking the serenity of the place was a perfect clue to unmask the culprit. He turned to me, who contemplated him mischievously. Although far from irritated, he was clearly baffled by my juvenile action.

"Are you serious?" He declared, bewildered as my hilarity intensified, giving him a clear answer.

I bent down, gathering enough snow in my two gloved hands, and formed a new ball which I threw with no hesitation. But this time prepared, he easily dodged it. He ran to hide behind a parked car.

"You know that's a war declaration you just made?" He exclaimed as I giggled.

"And I'm willing to feed you some snow, Brit!"

He took the opportunity to create a snowball and immediately to throw it in my direction. Far from being as skilful as him, I barely avoided it, but almost tumbled to the ground. Nevertheless, I managed to regain my balance. This moment of distraction earned me a second snowball, in the face this time. However, a satisfied smile appeared on my lips when I saw that he was playing the game, despite his apparent seriousness. I immediately resumed our fierce bloody fight which ended in a bitter defeat on my part. But I accepted it in good faith. I managed to touch him and to push snow into the collar of his jumper, and that was priceless. 

"Are we almost there?" Simon asked, after we started our way again.

And I could only understand his impatience. After our childish interlude, the snow had covered my poor coat so well that its once beige colour was barely noticeable, and my scarf had just frozen solid. I preferred not to mention the clothes under my coat, as they were both soaked and frozen. A very bad combination. The same was probably true for Simon.

"Just two streets away”, I assured him.

"You live in Mayfair?" He wondered, and rightly so. 

"Yeah... But the flat belonged to my great grandfather, and I took it over when I moved to London for William a few years ago. I know, it still sounds very bombastic, and I hate that, considering that I have no credit for acquiring it."

"Don't need to justify yourself." He reassured me, and I thanked him for that.

We soon arrived at the door of my building. And with all my gratitude for this most pleasant day and afternoon, I offered him a warm goodbye while an idea arose in my mind. But I still had to summon up the courage to do it. 

"Wait, Simon!" I shouted abruptly as I stepped outside, greeted by a gust of wind that made my scarf flutter.

He turned towards me, to see myself running after my goddamn scarf spinning away from him. It fell into the gully next to the road, and in this double misfortune, I slipped on an icy surface, falling firmly to the pavement. I hissed as I felt pain shoot through my coxal bone. 

"You're ok?" Simon worried, hurrying to my side.

He picked up my soaked scarf, and helped me up. 

"More scared than hurt," I informed him. "Shit, I just wanted to ask you for dinner with me. I've prepared a bit too much daube, which I can accompany with mashed squash and an excellent Châteauneuf-du-Pape of 2005…" I drift in a whisper.   

"And in English? How would that sound?" He scoffed, walking me back to the entrance of the building. 

"How about a nice French dish with marinated beef and fine wine?" 

"I thought you're a terrible cook."

"Well, I've got a reputation to uphold as a French woman. I'm not a great head chef, but I have some basics."

I opened the door, then turned to him. He seemed conflicted about this last-minute offer. 

"Take it or leave it, Simon. But know that you'll never taste a better daube than this. It's an ancestral recipe."  

"You know how to sell it, but I decline. I'm busy tonight." He admitted.

I puckered my lips in a resigned smile, wishing to disguise my disappointment. But I accepted his choice, and let him go with a final goodbye. My building door closed behind me, bringing an end to the most delightful day I had lived in weeks. I started to walk up the wooden staircase, my flat being only on the first floor, but three knocks against the door resonated in the hallway and stopped me. I turned towards the entrance and recognised the large and high figure of Simon. I hurriedly opened the door for him. 

"You forgot something?" 

"Even if I've always preferred whisky, I felt a good wine from time to time seems fit." He confessed. "Un Châteauneuf-du-Pape." He tried to repeat in his adorable English accent.

My eyes immediately sparkled, understanding what he meant. I willingly let him into the hall, and didn’t hesitate to tease him about his changeable, fickle persona, versatile in his opinions or views.

"I didn't know you were such a weathervane, but it's a great pleasure Simon. Always."

───────────────────────────────────

𝗡𝗼𝘁𝗲𝘀 ↬ 𝖠𝗇𝖽 𝗁𝖾𝗋𝖾 𝗂𝗌 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋 𝟥 ! 𝖧𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝖾𝗇𝗃𝗈𝗒𝖾𝖽 𝗂𝗍 :) 𝖣𝗈𝗇'𝗍 𝗁𝖾𝗌𝗂𝗍𝖺𝗍𝖾 𝗍𝗈 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 𝖺 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝗋𝖾𝗏𝗂𝖾𝗐 𝗌𝗈 𝗍𝗁𝖺𝗍 𝖨 𝖼𝖺𝗇 𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗏𝖾! 𝖠𝗇𝗒𝗐𝖺𝗒, 𝖨 𝗁𝗈𝗉𝖾 𝗒𝗈𝗎 𝗅𝗂𝗄𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗌𝗍𝗈𝗋𝗒 ! 𝖳𝗁𝖾 𝗇𝖾𝗑𝗍 𝖿𝖾𝗐 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗉𝗍𝖾𝗋𝗌 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇-𝗉𝖺𝖼𝗄𝖾𝖽 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗂𝗅𝗅 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝖺𝗅𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝖽𝗒𝗇𝖺𝗆𝗂𝖼 𝖻𝖾𝗍𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗇 (𝗒/𝗇) 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝖦𝗁𝗈𝗌𝗍, 𝗌𝗂𝗇𝖼𝖾 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗆𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖾'𝗏𝖾 𝗆𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗅𝗒 𝗌𝖾𝖾𝗇 𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝗐𝗂𝗍𝗁 𝖲𝗂𝗆𝗈𝗇.

[watchyourbluesturngolden]

you are my home

this started out as a little concept, and then i thought it might be fun to write a whole fic out of it!

(side note: I know we have no idea if sarah and mitch are having a boy or girl, so i just went with girl ¯\_(ツ)_/¯)

warnings: angst, relationship struggles, arguments

word count: 11.5k (the longest thing i've ever written :) )

"Just an eighth of a cup?"

"That's what it says," Harry shrugged, looking at the recipe on his phone. "Look, one eighth cup of milk. Right here-" He tilted the screen toward you.

"I believe you, it's just weird, it doesn't seem like a lot," you mused, but followed his instructions anyways. You were making chicken parmesan, and the two of you had a rather long history of butchered recipes. It was usually because you were too wrapped up in each other to read the recipe properly. Or because Harry would start kissing you while the food was cooking, murmuring against your lips that "we have plenty of time". Unfortunately, he usually got carried away, leaving you with a flushed face and burnt food.

Not this time, though. You were determined to make this one right. You stirred the milk into the mixture, watching carefully and turning the heat down when it began to bubble.

"Now... we just have to wait while it simmers for a few minutes," you said, setting the spatula down in the spoon rest. "So far, so good."

"I can think of something for us to do for a few minutes," Harry grinned, wrapping his arms around your waist. He leaned down, beginning to kiss your neck, but you quickly squirmed away.

"Nope, not this time," you grabbed the spatula again, brandishing it like a weapon. "Stay back. We're not taking any chances with this one. I'm tired of throwing out charred food and ordering pizza."

"Pizza is good, though," he argued, stepping closer again as you moved farther away.

"Not as good as our homemade chicken parmesan will be if you can just be patient for three minutes."

"Three minutes?" He practically whined.

You rolled your eyes. "You will be fine for three minutes. Wait until the food is done."

He huffed, leaning back against the counter with his arms crossed. "Can't believe you're depriving me of your love like this."

"Yes, you're so terribly deprived," you said sarcastically. "it's not like I've been by your side constantly for the past 72 hours."

"Well, time flies when you're with the love of your life."

You smiled, stepping forward to give him a quick peck on the cheek. Just one. He grabbed at your forearms, trying to keep you close, but you jumped back.

"No," you said sternly. "The food is almost done and I'm not burning this one too."

"Fine," he groaned. "But speaking of 72 hours... I was wondering about something."

You hummed questioningly, stirring the sauce.

"I was just kind of thinking... I mean, we're together all the time. When we're in the States we're together at your place, and when we're in London we're together at mine. So do you think... maybe we should just... officially move in together?"

You froze, suddenly feeling your heart thudding. It's not like you hadn't thought about it before. You had; a lot, actually. Of course you wanted to live with him. You hated being apart from him, and you knew he felt the same about you.

But still, moving to a whole different continent is a pretty big step. You didn't know how that would work for your job, and you weren't exactly excited to be so far away from all your friends and family.

"You don't have to answer right now," He was quick to interject, seemingly noticing how worried you looked. "Not at all. I just... I think it would be nice to have you with me. I just hate all the back and forth, and I'd kind of like to have a place we can call home together."

A small smile spread over your face as you thought about how nice it really would be. You thought of waking up on a rainy morning, cuddled into his side as you listened to the raindrops patter on the window. You thought of baking cookies in the kitchen with him. Taking bubble baths together. Going on walks in the park every evening. All of that would be so much better if it didn't have an end date lurking around the corner. If you knew you wouldn't have to fly back home in a few days or weeks or months.

"It would be really nice," you agreed. "I just... what about my work and stuff?"

"We can figure that out," he said. "We can do it however you want. I'm sure they could set it up so you can work remotely, or you could get a different job in London, or... you don't actually have to work if you don't want to."

"What, just be your little housewife?" you teased, looking over your shoulder at him.

"No," he grinned. "Well, maybe-"

You turned and snapped a hand towel at him before he could finish that sentence. He jumped away, grinning boyishly and holding his hands up in surrender.

"That's not how I meant it, and you know it. But seriously, if you don't want to work you don't have to."

"I would like to be there with you, and know I don't have to leave anytime soon," you said thoughtfully.

"Like I said, you don't have to decide right now. Why don't you just think about it? As much as I want you to, it is a big decision and I don't want you to rush into anything you're not okay with."

Before you could speak again, the timer on your phone went off.

"That's the sauce," you said, turning around and turning the gas off. "See? It's not so hard to keep your hands off of me for long enough to cook a meal, is it?"

He scoffed. "Speak for yourself. I nearly died. Of lonliness."

-----

In the next few days, you thought about Harry's offer a lot. You couldn't deny that you really liked the idea. What could be better than living with the love of your life? Never having to leave to pick up more clothes, never forgetting something important at home, always being in the same country as him. There were just a few things you worried about. Your job, for one. Yes, Harry had offered for you to quit working, but you weren’t sure if that was the best idea. You liked your job, and being able to earn your own money.

Harry was probably right; it probably could be done remotely. But you would kind of miss seeing your coworkers, at least the few you had been close with.

Then there was the matter of your friends. You would really miss having girls' nights, and gossiping about their boyfriends, and getting mani-pedis every month. Sure, you knew you would be back to visit. But you also knew it would be different.

Then, the thing you were most worried about: your family. You had always been close with them, especially your mom. You went to see her and your dad every week, and you called them almost every day. You weren't sure how well you would cope with being so far away from them.

But at the same time, you were incredibly excited by the idea of moving to London. You had been there before, of course, but never for longer than a few weeks. You wanted to get the full experience. You wanted Harry to show you around, take you to his favorite places. You wanted to go to the town he grew up in, see the bakery he never shut up about. You wanted to be a part of his life, in every way.

So, a week after he first asked you, you made up your mind. You were laying on the couch with him, tracing over his tattoos with your fingers while some cooking show played. He was pretty involved, every so often groaning or shaking his head or tsking at the contestants' "complete lack of skills." You weren't paying any attention, though. You were trying to decide how to bring up the conversation from earlier.

Eventually, you decided to just go for it.

"Harry?" you asked, not looking up from your fingers on his arms.

"Hm?" He replied, peeling his eyes away from the screen to look at you.

"I was thinking... about what you said the other day."

"Yeah?" He sat up more, muting the TV. "What about it?"

"I just think- I mean, there's still some stuff to figure out, but I would really like to move into your place in London."

"Really?" His face lit up.

You nodded. "I'm a little worried about my work, and leaving my family and friends, but... I want to be with you. I hate when one of us has to leave. I just want to go to sleep next to you, and wake up next to you, and not have an end date hanging over my head every time we're together."

"I like the sound of that," he smiled, pressing a kiss to the back of your hand. "And like I said, we'll figure out your work. And we'll come back to visit whenever you want to. It's only like... a nine hour flight."

"Right, basically nothing," you laughed, leaning your head against his shoulder.

"Right," he smiled. "But really. Any time you need to see your people, we'll come see them."

"We?"

He nodded, seeming confused by your questioning tone.

"You wouldn't have to do that," you shook your head. "I don't want to make you-"

"I want to." He cut you off. "I'm not going to just let you fly for 18 hours all alone. Plus, I'd miss you too much while you were gone."

"That's sweet," you said, a light flush heating up your face. "Also, my family might be disappointed if I came back and you weren't with me. I think they like you more than me at this point."

"That was the plan all along," he grinned.

You hit his arm playfully, but didn't move your head. "So what would that look like?"

"Well, really we could do whatever you want to. We could just move all your stuff into my place, or if you wanted, we could maybe find somewhere new? Somewhere that's just ours."

"Harry, we are not buying a whole new house when you basically have a mansion. That would be stupid."

"I'm actually really glad you feel that way. That mansion was bloody expensive."

-----

"How much longer until your lease is up?" Harry's impatient voice came through the phone.

"One less day than when I told you yesterday," you rolled your eyes. He was worse than a kid waiting for Christmas. He asked nearly every day if he could just pay off the lease for you and have you move right then. Your answer was always no; you had decided to finish it out on your own. Kind of like closing one chapter of your life before you start another.

There were just two weeks left now, and the evidence was all around the place. You and Harry had started to box up your smaller items, and the space already felt much less like home. You had taken pictures off the walls; cleared trinkets off the bookshelves. In the next few days, you were going to go through your clothes and decide what would come with you and what would be donated.

Harry had been excited to help with the whole process, but he had to go back to London a week earlier than he planned. Of course, you weren't happy about this, but you kind of liked having some time alone to say goodbye to the place you had called home for the past five years.

So you did just that. You wandered around, smiling at the patched spot in the wall from when Harry had knocked over a lamp stumbling around in the dark. You ran your fingers over the slight scorch mark on the table from when you made dinner, but forgot to set down a potholder. Your toe scuffled over the nail polish stain on the rug, from when Harry had tried to paint your nails.

All these little things made your little apartment feel like your home. You would miss them, but you had realized something as you thought back to all the memories. Most of them had been with Harry. Yes, you were leaving some memories behind, but you weren't leaving HIM behind. You would make new memories together, wherever you lived. As long as it was together.

"It's just two weeks, baby, and then we'll be together."

"Two weeks is so long," he sighed.

"It'll go by fast," you promised. "It is for me. I'm keeping busy over here."

"Me too," he took on an offended tone. "Very busy. I'm doing lots of things."

"What have you been up to?" You asked, settling back onto the couch. It was weird to see how empty your space was, but it was nice to be able to put your feet on the coffee table without knocking over the various decorations that usually adorned it.

"Some work stuff, but mostly clearing out space for you. You have a lot of stuff."

"I do not," you scoffed. "I probably have less hair products than you do."

"Hey," he cried. "Rude. My hair is luxurious. It takes a lot of upkeep."

You smiled, shaking your head.

“I moved a lot of stuff into the guest closet, so you can have half of the one in our room."

"Really?" You asked, a little surprised. You knew how well organized he kept his closet, so it was a little shocking that he was willing to just move everything.

"Of course. You'll be living here too, you need someplace to keep your clothes."

"I don't think I'll be able to fill half of your closet, though," you laughed.

"Guess we'll have to go shopping, then!" He chirped.

"I guess," you agreed with a smile.

You heard muffled voices in the background before Harry spoke again.

"I'm sorry, love, but I have to go." he sounded frustrated. "I'll call you later, okay?"

"Okay. Love you!"

"Love you too."

-----

"Today's the day!" Harry practically yelled through the phone.

"I know!" You said, trying to match his enthusiasm. You were slightly less excited. After all, you still had a nine hour flight ahead of you. But you knew that by this time tomorrow, you would officially be living with Harry, and that made it worth it.

"Do you have everything packed?" He asked.

"Pretty much. I'm just throwing the last of my stuff into my bag."

"Did you make a shopping list for when you get here?"

"I was gonna do that on the plane. It'll be something for me to do," you said, turning on the speakerphone so you could move around more freely.

"Yeah, good plan," he agreed. "I've said this a few times already, but I'm so excited for you to be here with me."

"Have you? Have you really said it a few times? I wasn't aware," you laughed.

"Be nice to me, I'm just happy," he said, and you could practically hear the smile in his voice.

"I know, I'm sorry," you shook your head with a smile. "I'm excited too. But I have to go now, I have to finish packing."

"Ok," he replied sadly. "See you soon!"

-----

You spotted him right after you got off the plane. He was standing near the gate, searching the crowd expectantly. Once he locked eyes with you, his face lit up in a huge smile. He made his way through the crowd, meeting you with open arms. He acted like he hadn't seen you in weeks, even though it had only been four days.

He buried his face in your neck, holding you tightly against him.

"I missed you," he murmured.

"I missed you too," you breathed deeply, inhaling his familiar scent. "But I'm here now. And now we can go home."

"Yeah," he grinned. "Home."

-----

"Harry, the movers can carry some of it, that's their job," you reminded him as he grabbed one of the boxes.

"Yeah, but it'll go faster if I carry some stuff," he argued, motioning to the door with his head. "Open that for me?"

You did as he asked, shaking your head as he brought the box of books inside. He insisted on helping, even though he had hired a team of movers to do this for you.

"Where do you wanna put these?" He asked, looking around the living room. "They can go on the shelf in here, or the one in our room."

"I'm not sure, I think I want some in here and some in the room. Why don't we go through them later?"

"Sounds good," he nodded, setting the box down in front of the bookshelf. "Another box!"

You shook your head again, going into the kitchen as he went back outside. You started going through the cupboards, checking to make sure you didn’t have any duplicates on your shopping list. He already had quite a few of the items you needed, so you could remove several things.

Once the last few boxes had been brought in, and Harry had thanked the movers profusely, he collapsed on the couch.

"I told you you shouldn't have done so much, now you're all tired out," you joked, going to sit next to him.

He nodded. "You were right. I need a nap after all that." He got up, pushing you to lay down and then crawling on top of you. He laid his head on your stomach, sighing contentedly when you ran your fingers through his hair.

"Oh wait," he lifted his head, already sounding half asleep. "We didn't even get groceries yet. We have to-" He began to get up, but you stopped him with a gentle hand on his face.

You shook your head, running your thumb over his cheekbone lightly. "We can do that later, baby. Just go to sleep for a while."

"Yeah," he nodded slightly. "I'm just gonna go to sleep for a while."

"Okay," you smiled. "Sweet dreams."

-----

When Harry woke up, he was alone on the couch. He frowned at the lack of warmth, grabbing the blanket from the back of the couch and pulling it around himself. He wasn't sure how you had managed to get out from under him without waking him, but he wasn't happy about it.

He planned to go back to sleep, but sighed when his phone buzzed. He reached for it, but then paused for a minute. He decided whatever it was could wait. He retracted his arm, pulling the blanket tighter around himself and snuggling into the back of the couch.

Just as he was about to drift off, his phone began buzzing again. This time, it didn't stop. He groaned, but grabbed it this time. He squinted at the bright light, trying to make out who was trying so hard to contact him.

It was Jeff. There were two missed calls and a text. He swiped on the text, his frown deepening as he read the message.

Jeff: I'm sure you're going to see this soon enough, but the moving van was spotted outside your house. There's already a few articles out, and I'm sure there'll be more. Just wanted to let you know so you don't have to hear it from some trashy website, and maybe you should let Y/N know to stay away from socials for a while. Sorry about this.

Harry groaned, throwing his arm over his face. He had known this was likely to happen, but at the same time he had hoped it wouldn't. He was so happy right now, and he didn't need that to be tainted by rude articles and crazy fans and speculations about his relationships. He just wanted to sit back and relax with his love for a few days, but apparently that was too much for him to ask.

Normally, he wouldn't even look at the articles. He knew they would only be upsetting. This time, though, he felt like he should. He wasn't sure how you would react to this, and it might be easier if he knew what you would be seeing all over the internet for the next week.

So, he opened google and searched "harry styles". Instantly, his screen filled with pictures of the moving van outside his house. There were even a few pictures of him carrying boxes, and one of your back as you walked inside. He huffed angrily. This was supposed to be a happy day, and now he was in a bad mood. His privacy had been violated yet again, and it was hard for him to stay positive after that.

Then he began scrolling through the article titles. He rolled his eyes at the baited language that was clearly meant to create negative responses.

"HARRY STYLES seen MOVING BOXES? Is he going out... or is someone coming in?"

"Harry Styles spotted with NEWEST GIRLFRIEND"

"ANOTHER GIRL? HARRY SHARES HIS HOUSE... YET AGAIN!"

"Just a friend? Or Harry's latest lover?"

"Guess which FORMER ONE DIRECTION STAR is shacking up with his SECRET GIRLFRIEND!"

Against his better judgement, he clicked on one of the articles. His heart sunk further with every sentence he read.

"It's no secret that Harry Styles has been with a lot of women (read about each of his past relationships here). But is there someone new for the Watermelon Sugar singer?

A moving van was spotted outside of Harry's house today, and the star was seen moving boxes into his 8.7 million dollar mansion.

As if that’s not enough, there was a woman seen heading into the house with Harry. Could this mean a new romance for the Grammy winning artist? Well, don’t be too sure. There are many possible explanations for these new living arrangements. Maybe she’s a friend going through a hard time, or even just a family member who needs a couch to crash on.

Or maybe she’s Harry’s newest conquest. Yet another notch in the bed stand! Way to go, Styles!

However, we can’t help but notice: she doesn’t seem like Harry’s type. Come on girl, leggings and a hoodie? And that hair? Apparently, she’s not trying too hard to impress him.

We don’t know all the details yet, but stay tuned! We’ve reached out to Harry’s management for more information. Check back for more updates, and subscribe to our email list so you don’t miss anything!”

Harry clicked off his phone with a sigh. He stood up from the couch, keeping the blanket wrapped around him as he made his way into the kitchen.

No matter how upset he was, he was sure the sight in front of him would always bring a smile to his face. You were wearing one of his t-shirts, dancing slightly to your music as you stirred the pot in front of you. Harry leaned against the door frame, giving himself a few minutes to take this in. He couldn’t believe he would get to experience this every day from now on.

With a fond smile still on his face, he walked over to you. He wrapped his arms around your waist, adjusting the blanket so it draped over your shoulders as well.

“Hi,” you smiled, leaning back against him. “Did you have a good nap?”

“Would have been better if you didn’t get up,” he pouted, resting his chin on your shoulder to look into the pot.

“Oh please, you were totally dead to the world. I’ve been in here for half an hour now, and you only just woke up.”

“Still,” he said, turning his head to kiss your cheek. “What are you making?”

“Mac ‘n’ cheese,” you explained. “I wasn’t in the mood to do any real cooking.”

“Sounds delicious,” he smiled. “S’it almost done?”

“Should be like five more minutes,” you glanced over at the timer on your phone. “Want to get the plates?”

“No, just want to hold you,” he said, pressing his face further into your neck. “I’m not awake yet.”

“Fine,” you said, setting the spoon down. “Then you gotta walk with me, because I need to set the table.”

“I can do that,” he said, his voice muffled.

You smiled, moving around the room to get everything you needed while Harry clung to you like a koala. The smell of food seemed to perk him up, because within a few minutes he was lifting his head and leaning less of his weight on you.

“Smells really good, love,” he said, finally pulling himself away from you.

“I know, I’m an amazing chef,” you grinned, lifting the pot off the stove and bringing it to the table. This time, you remembered to set down a potholer. You didn’t really want to ruin this table that probably cost more than your entire apartment.

“You are,” he agreed, pulling out your chair before sitting down next to you. He scooted his chair closer, moving the blanket again so you were both under it.

His mood seemed to change suddenly as he was piling the food onto your plates.

“I have to tell you something,” he said, looking more upset than you had seen in a while.

“What?” You asked, turning slightly to face him.

“I don’t really… there’s no nice way to say it,” he said, avoiding your eyes. “Someone took pictures of the moving van and us bringing stuff in, and there’s some pretty nasty articles.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. You weren’t quite sure how to respond to that. It’s not like you didn’t expect this, but you had hoped to have a few peaceful days with Harry before being attacked by the media. “Is it- how bad is it?”

“It’s... not good,” he sighed. “I wouldn’t recommend looking at it. That stuff is terrible, always has been. They always seem to know exactly how to tear people down; make you feel bad about yourself. You might wanna stay off social media, just for a few days until some of the crazies calm down.”

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“What?” he looked up quickly. “Why are you sorry? I’m the one that should be sorry, they’re writing terrible stuff about you, and it’s my fault.”

“It’s not your fault,” you were quick to shut him down. “And I’m sure it bothers you too. I know you don’t like when they get personal information.”

“No, I really don’t,” he agreed. “But I wish they left you out of it.”

“Well, it doesn’t matter now,” you said, leaning your head on his arm. “Because now I’m here, and we’re together, and I don’t have to leave anytime soon.”

-----

After dinner, Harry decided you should get some more of your things put away. He brought your bag to the bathroom, dumping everything out onto the vanity.

“Why do you have so many bottles?” He asked, picking up the closest one.

“Because,” you said, grabbing it out of his hands. “They all do different things. This one is moisturizer, this one makes sure my skin doesn’t get too oily-”

“So why don’t you just not use either of them? Seems like they cancel each other out anyways.”

You shot him a glare. “That’s not how it works. Anyways, this one's for dark spots. These glass ones are mineral oils. This blue one is for wrinkles- you know, gotta get ahead of those- and this one is rose water. It doesn’t really do anything, it basically just smells good. Then that’s my hair stuff- and I was right by the way, you do have way more than I do. And this is a face mask, and that one close to the sink is a hair mask, and this little tub is an exfoliator, and this cloth is a makeup remover, but it’s better for the environment than individual wipes. And then my makeup is here- so liquid foundation, setting powder, blush, concealer, mascara, eye shadow, eyeliner, and the brushes. I actually don’t have that much stuff,” you shrugged, looking at the bottles splayed everywhere.

“Right… not that much stuff,” he said, his eyes wide. “It’s a good thing I asked Gemma how she organizes all her stuff, because she told me to get one of these things.” He opened the cupboard under the sink, pulling out a spinning makeup organizer. “Hopefully all of your million bottles fit on this.”

“You got this for me?” you asked, smiling. “That’s so nice of you.”

“Well, I don’t think your stuff would have fit in the drawers,” he said, running a hand through his hair.

“Oh, shush,” you rolled your eyes. “Help me get all this organized, will you?”

-----

The next week was pretty smooth, minus that little hiccup with the press. You did as Harry suggested, and stayed off Twitter and Instagram. You didn’t think it would be too bad, but you had gotten a few texts from concerned family and friends that made you wonder how bad it really was.

Either way, you didn’t really want to look. You and Harry were essentially honeymooning, and you weren’t about to let a few nasty articles ruin it.

“We haven’t gone for groceries yet,” Harry reminded you, coming up behind you as you did your morning skincare routine.

“Yeah, I kind of forgot about that,” you said, closing the bottle of moisturizer. “We can go whenever, just let me get dressed.”

He nodded. “What all do we need?”

“I don’t think there’s too much, but we need some fruit. Most of yours is bad at this point.”

“Yeah, that happens.” He laughed. “I usually buy a whole bunch and then end up having to leave, so then I come home to a fridge full of rotten fruit.”

“Lovely,” you joked. “I also need some chips, all your snacks are healthy.”

“I have no idea what chips are, but we can buy some crisps, if that’s what you meant,” he smiled at you in the mirror.

“Shut up,” you rolled your eyes, hitting his arm playfully. “I’m not going to call them crisps just because I live here now. I’m still American.”

“Fine, but when we have kids, they will not be using your American words. I’m not letting you corrupt my children like that.”

“You’re so annoying.”

“Well then, it’s too bad you moved in with me, isn’t it?”

-----

“Ooh, we need these!” Harry said, grabbing a bag of brownie bites.

“Why do we need those?”

“Because they’re delicious,” he said, looking at you like it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“If you say so,” you shrugged, pushing the cart forward after he threw the bag in. “Where is the pasta?”

“Aisle 17,” he answered immediately.

“Is it really?” You asked, a little surprised he had the aisle numbers memorized.

“I have no idea,” he laughed. “It’s just the first number that popped into my head. I think it’s that way? Or maybe over here…” he trailed off, like he was trying to remember where to go. “I actually have no idea.”

“Wow, you're so helpful.”

“I know,” he grinned. “I don’t know, just start wandering around and we’ll find it eventually.”

“What a plan,” you shook your head, but followed him anyway. It’s not like you were in any rush, and you were both having a good time.

“Oh look!” You said, turning into an aisle. “I found the chips.”

“The what?” Harry called from the next row over. “I thought you said something, but I must have heard you wrong.”

“No, I just said I found the chips,” you repeated. “You know, little cooked potato slices?”

“I’m sorry love, I have no idea what you’re talking about,” He said, joining you in the aisle. “Oh, silly me. You meant crisps!”

“Nope,” you grabbed a bag of Doritos. “I meant exactly what I said.” You placed the bag in the cart, turning back to Harry. You leaned up on your tiptoes, moving closer to his face. “Chips,” you whispered, before pressing a quick kiss to his cheek and then turning around again.

“You can’t seduce me into calling them the wrong name,” he scoffed.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrugged, pushing the cart away. “Did you find the pasta yet?”

“No, but I did find the ice cream,” he said, easily catching up to you with his long legs.

“Ooh, I think that’s where we need to go next.”

“I agree,” he grinned, steering the cart in the right direction. “I think we should probably just get all of them, ya know? That way we won’t miss out on anything good.”

“Harry, there’s like thirty different flavors here,” you laughed. “We are not getting that much ice cream, we don’t even have that much space in the freezer.”

“No, that’s just because I have a bunch of frozen food in there. It’s mostly vegetables. Not that important. I can just throw that all away,” he argued, already opening the freezer door to reach for some ice cream.

“We are not buying thirty cartons of ice cream,” you shook your head. “We can get, like, ten, at most. Even that-”

“You already said ten!” he said, pressing a finger against your lips. “You can’t go back on that now. So pick some flavors!”

-----

“Which one do we want to try first?” He asked, looking at the large selection you had bought.

“Um… I think the salted caramel core,” you decided, picking up the carton of ice cream.

“Oh! You know what we need with all of this?”

“Insulin?”

“No,” he rolled his eyes, grabbing one of the bags from earlier and pulling out the brownie bites. “I told you we needed these, they’ll go perfect with the ice cream.”

“Ooh,” you nodded. “That’s a good idea.”

“I know,” he said proudly. “I’m full of good ideas. Actually, I have another one. Let’s go watch The Office while we eat our delicious brownie bites.”

“Ok, but if you put on the UK version I might have to leave.”

“I would never,” he said in an offended tone. “I’m not a monster.”

-----

“I don’t want to go back to work,” he sighed. “I just wanna stay here with you.”

“I know,” you said, tracing patterns on his chest. “But I have to start working again too. I don’t think my boss is too happy about this whole arrangement, so I have to make everything twice as good so she’ll let me keep doing it this way.”

“Yeah,” he said, running his fingers through your hair. “I’m saying again, you could just quit.”

“I’m not quitting,” you shook your head. “I like my job. And I can do it all from the house, so it’s a really good deal.”

“I wish I could do that,” he sighed again.

“That wouldn’t work,” you smiled. “If we were both here all day, neither of us would get anything done.”

“You might be right,” he laughed. “You’re very distracting.”

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

“Very,” he grinned. You recognized the look in his eyes, and you knew if you didn’t get up soon you wouldn’t any time in the next hour

So before he could move too far and start kissing at your neck, you rolled off him.

“I have to get ready for work,” you said, getting out of bed.

“What do you mean get ready? You don’t have to go anywhere, we have all the time in the world,” he pouted, reaching out his arm for you.

“I don’t, but you do. Jeff has been texting you nonstop, and Sarah called the other day and told me she’s getting restless at home. So I’m taking the baby today, so all of you can get some work in.”

“You are? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Because, if you knew we were having the baby here, you would come up with some excuse to stay here.”

“Maybe,” he smiled, still making no moves to get up. “She’s just so cute.”

“Well, sometime we can offer to babysit so Sarah and Mitch can go out for the evening or something. But you have to go in today, so you should probably get dressed.”

He groaned, flopping his head back into the pillows.

-----

“Harry! They’re here!” You called, opening the door and inviting Sarah and Mitch in. “Hi guys, Harry’s being a drama queen today so I’m not sure when he’ll be down.”

“When isn’t he?” Sarah smiled, stepping into the room with the baby in her arms. Mitch was carrying the diaper bag, which he set down on the bench next to the door.

Sarah handed the baby over to you as Harry came down the stairs.

“Aw, can I hold her?” He asked, not even greeting his friends.

“No,” all three of you said at once.

“Why?” He whined before smiling at the baby in your arms.

“Because you won’t be able to put her down,” you said, laughing when the other two nodded. “See, they know I’m right.”

“Fine,” he grumbled. “But Mitch, you’re taking Sarah out tomorrow night and we’re babysitting.”

“I’m alright with that,” Sarah smiled. “Y/N, you should have everything you need in the diaper bag. There’s enough formula for a few bottles, but she won’t need to eat for an hour or so. Other than that she’ll probably sleep most of the time, she’s a pretty quiet baby. She takes after her dad.”

You nodded, bouncing her lightly. Harry was already in her face, smiling and cooing and offering his finger for her to grab. She seemed to like the attention, and was smiling right back at him.

“Harry, we have to go,” Sarah said with one hand on the doorknob.

He huffed. “Just when I start to make a connection with the child, I’m ripped away.”

You rolled your eyes. “We’ll have her tomorrow night. You can connect with her then.”

“It won’t be the same,” he said. “You know- why don’t we just take her with us? She can just come with us-” he was already moving toward you again, but Mitch grabbed his shoulder.

“No, Harry, we actually have to get some stuff done today.”

“Fine,” he groaned. “But you better send me pictures if she does anything cute,” he pointed at you.

“Everything she does is cute,” Mitch argued.

“You’re really not helping,” Sarah said, hitting his arm. “I thought I had one child, but turns out I have three.”

-----

The next few days were not very productive for Harry. He was having a hard time getting back in the swing of things, and it felt like everything he did was bad. He couldn’t write or play anything he liked. He just felt stuck.

They went over some old stuff, just so he didn’t feel like they totally wasted their time. Still, he couldn’t help but feel incredibly frustrated. He didn’t usually have issues with writers’ block, and he expected to be even better now that you were with him all the time. He had always been more productive when he got to see you, so he thought living with you would give him an extra boost. Apparently not.

Then, to make everything worse, more pictures and articles came out. Pictures from the day you had gone grocery shopping had been captured by some fan, but for some reason hadn’t come out until today.

But they were suddenly everywhere. There were even more articles than before, and this time it was worse because there were full pictures of your face. Before, there had only been one blurry shot of your back, and that alone got enough criticism. Now it was like the floodgates had opened. Every aspect of your appearance was being ripped apart, along with Harry’s “decision making”.

He saw the first article when they were taking a break for lunch one day. They had ordered some pizzas, and everyone was spread out on the couches across the room.

Harry unlocked his phone, ready to call you and ask about your day, but was instead met with another text from Jeff. Like the one before, he had advised Harry to keep you off social media for the next few days and apologized that it got this out of hand.

Sighing, he decided to see what they were saying this time.

“Harry Styles goes on a shopping spree- But who’s that with him?”

“Harry’s “new girlfriend” shops with him?”

"DID SHE MOVE IN?”“

“MYSTERY GIRL and HARRY STYLES search for the necessities!”

He clicked on one of the articles.

“Harry Styles and his mystery lady were seen shopping last week. We can’t help but think things might be getting more serious!

The former One Direction star was spotted moving boxes into his house a few weeks ago. What we thought may have just been a favor for a friend might be something much more juicy!

Maybe she’s not just another notch in the bed stand- maybe this one will stick around!

But really, if she wants to stick around- maybe she should watch what she eats. The Sign of the Times singer was searching for healthy snacks, while his newest girlfriend filled the cart with ice cream and chips. Seems like a recipe for disaster between the two!

Again, she’s seen wearing a very simple outfit. And no (or at least, very little!) makeup. Come on girl, you couldn’t have at least used a little concealer for those eye bags?

It seems like she’s just not trying very hard! We have to wonder- how long can this last?”

“Fuck’s sake,” Harry groaned, grabbing the pillow next to him and chucking it across the room.

“Harry, what’s going on?” Sarah asked. Everyone had noticed how on edge he had been lately, but no one was quite sure how to address his moodiness.

“Another article just came out,” he sighed. “It’s worse than the last one. I’m so sick of this.”

“Does Y/N know?”

Harry shrugged. He didn’t feel like talking about it anymore, but he knew they wouldn’t just leave it without knowing if you were ok.

“You should probably call her, so she doesn’t hear it from someone else,” Sarah advised. “I would want to find out from someone I loved.”

“I can’t- I really don’t want to talk to her right now.”

“Did something happen with you two?” Mitch asked, confused. The two of you had been inseparable lately, so this was strange.

Harry shook his head.

“I just- can we just not talk about it?”

He could tell they didn’t want to drop it, but one of the assistants came in with the pizza, and Harry was clearly done talking.

His mood only got worse for the rest of the day. He still couldn’t make anything new, and he was even having trouble with things he already knew. He struggled to hit the higher notes, and his throat was getting sore from trying to force it. By the time people were starting to head home, he was ready to throw a lot more than a pillow.

Harry dropped his keys when he was trying to unlock the door, and then his coat fell off the hook when he tried to hang it up. By the time he got to the kitchen, his jaw was clenched and he was fuming.

“Hi,” you said tentatively, noticing how angry he looked.

“Hi,” he said shortly, opening the fridge. “Is there anything to eat?”

“I didn’t make anything,” you said, still typing on your computer.

“You didn’t-” He shut the fridge aggressively, the bottles and containers in the door clinking against each other. “You couldn’t make supper for one night?”

“Excuse me?” You looked up, crossing your arms defensively. “I’ve been working.”

“So have I!”

“And I don’t expect you to make supper after you’ve been working all day!”

“It’s different, you’re home all day!”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not busy, Harry. You know that.”

“Well what am I supposed to do?”

“I don’t know, you could stop yelling at me for starters! I didn’t do anything wrong and you're acting like you hate me.”

His face softened immediately, and he stepped forward. “I’m sorry,” he said. “I’m so sorry. I don’t hate you, I could never. I just-” He scrubbed his face with his hands. “I’m having a terrible time with work. I can’t do anything right, nothing is working, and all these articles-”

“The articles came out weeks ago, Harry. It’s not that big of a deal anymore.”

“No,” he shook his head. “There’s more. A lot more, and they’re worse than before.”

“Oh,” you said quietly. “I didn’t know that.”

“I know,” he replied. “I should have told you earlier, I just- I don’t know. I don’t want you to have to deal with this.”

“Well, keeping it a secret from me and then yelling at me isn’t going to help anything,” you said, arms still crossed. “I know you’ve been having a hard time lately, Sarah told me. You can talk to me, you know. You don’t have to just keep everything in.”

“I didn’t want to put this on you,” he admitted, looking down.

“I want to know,” you told him. “I want to know when things are upsetting you or you’re having a hard time at work. You can tell me those things.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry,” he said quietly. “I shouldn't have raised my voice. Please forgive me?”

“Of course I forgive you,” you said, moving around the table and closer to him. He looked up, opening his arms and smiling as you stepped into them.

“It will get better soon,” he promised. “It won't be this hard for long."

-----

Despite his hopeful words, your situation didn’t get any easier. More articles came out, most of them attacking Harry for his past relationships and wondering how long this one would last. His writers’ block showed no signs of easing up, and he was getting more frustrated with every day that passed.

On top of all this, you had started missing deadlines for work. The difference in time zones made it more difficult than you had anticipated, and your boss was not happy. You’d already had to sit through three Zoom meetings this week, with her lecturing you on “the importance of timeliness and responsibility.”

You were not in the right state of mind to deal with Harry’s moodiness, and the atmosphere between you was painfully tense.

That is, until it all boiled over one day.

Harry came home angry, again. He slammed the door shut and basically stomped to the kitchen. Your day had already been stressful enough, and you weren’t about to let him take out his frustration on you.

“Don’t even start with me today, Harry,” you shook your head.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” He asked, immediately getting defensive.

“I know you probably had a terrible day, but so did I. I’m sick of us fighting.”

“You think I want to fight? I’m so sorry for being stressed,” His voice was heavy with sarcasm.

“And I’m not? It’s not like you’re the only one in the world having a hard time, Harry!”

“What do you have to be stressed about? I’m the one who can’t get any work done, and I’m the one getting ripped apart by the media,” he huffed.

“Excuse me? Have you been on ANY social media lately? Are you the one getting called ugly for not wearing enough makeup? Or accused of being “Harry's newest slut”? Because that’s that they’re saying about me!”

“And how do you think that looks for my reputation?”

“Oh, so now it’s my fault that people are attacking you?”

“No,” he sighed, dropping his face into his hands. “I don’t want to fight about this. I’m just really stressed right now, and-”

“Again, Harry, so am I! I changed my entire world to come and be with you, and it’s like you don’t even care, or appreciate all the sacrifices I made!”

“What sacrifices? You don’t-”

“You did not just say that,” you breathed. “Are you kidding me? I gave up everything! I left all my family and friends. I can’t go out in public without people taking pictures of me, and posting them, and saying terrible things about me. I’m trying to figure out my new work situation, and my boss is pissed at me all the time. I’m probably going to get fired if I don’t figure something out. I-”

“You act like you’re the only one with work troubles!” he exclaimed. “My entire career is on the line if I don’t start writing again soon. And all this shit in the press- it’s not exactly motivating.”

“It’s affecting my job too. Do you think my company wants to be involved with all the drama about us? It doesn’t look good for them. All the more reason for them to fire me.”

“But it’s worse for me!” he raised his voice to match yours.

“Why is it worse for you, Harry?”

“Because-” He stopped himself, seemingly knowing he had gone too far.

“No, say it. Say why it matters more to you. Because everything about you is more important, isn’t it?”

“That’s not what I meant-”

“But it’s exactly what you meant! You care more about your career than you do about me.”

“That’s not true,” he said, an intense look in his eyes. “You know that’s not true.”

“Really? That’s not how you’ve been acting lately.”

“It’s not like that-'' he exhaled a frustrated sigh. “I’m just saying, all this bad press is really getting to me. I’m going to lose support, and it’s going to be hard for me to get it back.”

“Oh please, you’re Harry Styles,” you spat. “You’re the golden boy of the music industry. You’ll be fine. Other people, like me, are actually in trouble here. I’m actually at risk of losing something!”

“You can just find another job!” He threw his hands up. “I’m more in the public eye, it affects me more. That’s all there is to it.”

“I can’t believe you!” you were on the verge of tears now, simply from how frustrated and angry you were. “It affects you more? You’ve been dealing with this for years. How do you think it feels for me? I’m new to all of this, and you’re acting like I should know how to handle everything.”

“You knew it was going to be like this when you first started dating me!” he argued. “I told you, and you said you didn’t care.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t think it would be this miserable!” You said, the first tear rolling down your face.

“Well if you’re so miserable, maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to move in with me.”

This stopped you in your tracks. Everything the two of you had said so far was angry, and in the heat of the moment. But this felt different. It felt like he had crafted this sentence specifically to hurt you, not to voice his feelings about the situation.

“Fine,” you stood up, grabbing your laptop and charger. You walked right past him, out of the kitchen and up the stairs.

“Where are you going?” He called.

You didn’t answer. You went into your closet, pulling out the backpack you used to use for traveling back and forth between your house and Harry’s. You began shoving clothes into it, but made sure not to include any of his shirts or hoodies.

“What are you doing?” Harry came into the room, speaking quietly.

“Packing,” you said shortly.

“Don’t do that,” he frowned. “You can’t just leave.”

“Yes I can,” you shot back, still not looking up at him. You zipped up the bag, brushing past him as you went back downstairs.

“Where-” he followed you quickly. “Where are you going?”

At this point, you realized you didn’t have anywhere to go. You didn’t have any close friends; most of your friends were also Harry’s. And you needed to be with people who didn’t remind you of him right now.

“I’m going home,” you said, finally turning to look at him.

“What?” His face fell.

“I’m leaving. I’m going back home. I can’t be here right now.”

“No- you can’t leave!” he said, his face paling. “You can go stay with Sarah and Mitch, or with Jeff and Glenne- or I’ll get you a hotel room or something, but you can’t-”

“Yes I can, Harry,” you cut him off, repeating your sentence from earlier. “I need my family. I need to see my mom. I- I have to go.” You reached for the door handle, but he stopped you, placing his large hand against the door.

“You can call them,” he said, beginning to look desperate. “Or- or we can even fly them out here. But please don’t do this.”

“You’re the one who told me to leave if I was so miserable here,” you said, trying to stop your chin from wobbling. “So that’s exactly what I’m doing.”

“I didn’t mean that! I’m so sorry, I should have never said- I don’t want you to leave. That got way out of hand, I went too far, I’m so sorry.”

“It did. And I can’t be here right now. So let me-” you tried the door again, but he kept it firmly shut.

“Please don't do this,” he whispered. “Please just… stay here tonight. I’ll sleep in the guest room, I won’t bother you if that’s what you need. Or if you really can’t be here, go stay with-”

“No,” you said decisively. “I need to go home. You’re making me feel worse by forcing me to stay here, can’t you see that?”

He dropped his hand away from the door, pressing his lips together. He gave a short nod. “If you have to-” his voice broke, and he quickly cleared his throat before speaking again. “If you really have to leave, then I’ll drive you to the airport. It’s not safe to be out alone this late.”

You shook your head. “I can get a cab, I’m not going to make you-”

“Either I drive you, or you’re not going,” he said firmly. “I need you to be safe.”

You sighed, but nodded, knowing he wouldn’t give in. He was just as stubborn as you were.

-----

You were both silent for the entire drive. Harry didn’t even try to argue with you, which you were grateful for. He seemed to understand that this was what you needed, and he couldn't change your mind.

-----

“Please don’t do this,” he said one final time, watching you walk toward the gate. His heart broke a little more with each step you took.

Even though you wanted to, you didn’t look back. You knew that one look at his sad face would be enough to break you, and you couldn’t let that happen. You needed to go home. You needed your family.

Harry stood at the large window, watching with crossed arms as the plane took off. Once you were officially gone, the first tear slipped down his face.

He made his way out of the busy airport in a daze. He barely registered that he had made it back to his car until he was sitting in the driver’s seat. He reached for the keys, but his hands were shaking so much he couldn’t manage to start the vehicle. Instead, he dropped his head to rest against the steering wheel, and he cried. He couldn’t remember the last time he cried this hard. He felt like he couldn’t breathe; there was a huge weight on his chest.

Had he just lost the love of his life?

-----

He didn’t know how long he sat there, but eventually he realized he needed to get home. He needed to figure out what to do.

As soon as he pulled in the driveway, he pulled out his phone and called Mitch.

“Hello?” Came his friend’s tired voice. It was the middle of the night, after all.

“I need you to come over right now,” Harry rushed. “I fucked up, I fucked up so bad and I don’t know- what am i supposed to do? I can’t do this- I need her!”

“Wait, slow down,” Mitch instructed. “What happened?”

“I- just come over right now,” Harry said, hanging up the phone.

-----

When Mitch arrived, he immediately knew something was very wrong. He had never seen Harry look so torn up. His eyes were red, and he was pacing back and forth while running his hands through his hair.

“What happened?” He asked again. “Where’s Y/N?”

“She’s gone,” Harry said. “She fucking left. She went back home.”

“Is she ok? Did something happen with her family?”

“No, Mitch,” Harry said, scrubbing his hands over his face. “She left because of me. We had a fight- a really bad one. I said some really shitty things, and it got way out of hand, and now she’s gone. I don’t- what am I supposed to do?”

“What did you say? Was it about the articles that came out?”

“Somewhat,” Harry nodded. “She said it was starting to affect her job, and I said it was affecting mine too, and she said she was miserable, and I… told her if she was so miserable she shouldn’t have agreed to move in with me in the first place,” he looked down in shame. He felt terrible as soon as the words left his mouth the first time, but going over the fight with someone else felt ten times worse.

Mitch took a deep breath. “Yeah, that’s... pretty bad.”

“Yeah, no shit it’s pretty bad!” Harry snapped. “Sorry, I’m sorry,” he groaned, falling back on the couch. “I just- what do I do?” He leaned his elbows on his knees, cradling his head in his hands.

“I don’t know,” Mitch admitted. “Did she say when she’s coming back?”

“No,” Harry said miserably. “She just said she needed to go home. I tried to get her to stay, I really did. I said I could get her a hotel room, or ask if she could stay with Jeff or something, but she said she needed her family. The worst thing is… she said she needs to go home. I thought she saw this as her home now. I thought she wanted to be here. I thought she was happy here,” his voice broke, and he dropped his head again. “I don’t… I don't think she loves me anymore.”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Mitch shook his head. “Of course she loves you. Do you know how many fights Sarah and I have had? You just have to give her time.”

“Yeah, but did Sarah ever leave the country after you fought?”

“...No,” Mitch sighed. “No, it never got that bad.”

“Exactly,” Harry said, another tear falling down his face.

“She will come back, Harry. She loves you way too much to stay away for good.”

“Not this time,” Harry shook his head. “I think it’s different this time. I honestly don’t know if she’s coming back. I don’t know how to fix this.”

“Well, you have to apologize,” Mitch said. “As soon as her plane lands, call her. Tell her what you told me. Tell her how sorry you are and that it got out of hand and you didn’t mean anything you said.” He paused before speaking again. “You didn’t mean it, did you?”

“Of course I didn’t,” Harry snapped again. “I was just… I’ve been in such a terrible mood, and I took it out on her.” He shook his head, whispering, “I’m so stupid.”

“I’m sure it will work out if you just-” Mitch was interrupted by his phone ringing. “Yeah, he’s alright,” he said into the phone. “I’ll explain when I get home." He paused before sighing. "Again? Ok, I’ll be there in a few,” he said before hanging up. “I’m really sorry, I have to go. The baby’s sick and apparently threw up all over her crib. I have to go help Sarah clean up. Just… tell Y/N the truth, okay? Make sure she knows how much you love her.”

Harry nodded, still looking awful as he raised his head. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let me know if you need anything else, okay?”

-----

Harry started calling you as soon as Mitch left. He knew you were still on the plane, but he wanted you to hear his apologies as soon as you landed.

“Hi love… I’m so sorry. I don’t even know how to explain how terrible I feel. I didn’t mean anything I said. I was completely out of line, and I shouldn’t have let it go that far. I love you so much and I never wanted to hurt you. Please call me when you get this.”

Then he sent a quick text.

Harry: Let me know when you get to your parents’ house so I know you’re safe. Love you.

After that, he knew there wasn’t much else he could do. He wandered back up to his bedroom, looking at all the pictures the two of you had hung on the walls together. He thought back to the day you had moved in, and how happy you had both been. He remembered when he tried to put a nail in the wall, but swung the hammer at the wrong angle and put a hole in the wall instead. He remembered how shocked you had looked, covering your mouth for a second before you both burst out into laughter.

He remembered sitting on the living room floor and eating Chinese food while you played scrabble. Sure, you had ended up dropping lo mein all over the board, but it was worth it.

There were still traces of you all over the house. Your coffee cup still sat in the sink from this morning. Two of the cabinets were still open, because you always forgot to close them. There was a purple scrunchie on your bedside table, and a blue one on the bathroom vanity, and a white one hooked over one of the kitchen cabinet knobs, because “I never know when I’ll need to put my hair up!”

He couldn’t look anywhere in the house without thinking of you. He didn’t want to be in this big empty space all alone. The only way he could think of to make all the painful memories stop was to go to sleep. So, he did just that. He pulled your pillow against his chest, cuddling it like it was you in his arms. There was the faint smell of your conditioner stuck to the fabric, and he buried his face in it to just breathe you in.

The next two days were the worst Harry had ever been through. He didn’t know what to do with himself. You weren’t answering any of his calls, and your voicemail inbox was full. He kept texting, but you weren’t even reading any of them. He paced all day, trying to occupy himself. If he didn’t think of something to keep him busy, he would just keep texting, and he was sure you were pretty annoyed at this point.

But he couldn’t help himself, so he quickly unlocked his phone and started typing.

Harry: I’m so sorry, I can’t even put it into words. Please just let me know when you’re coming home?

He scrolled up through his previous messages, sighing when he realized how pathetic they sounded.

Harry: Please stop ignoring me, I need to talk to you.

Harry: I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. I love you so much, please come home.

Harry: I sound like a broken record, I know, but I just need you to know I feel awful for everything I said.

Harry: I don’t even care how pathetic I sound with all of this, I can’t lose you.

He decided he couldn’t wait anymore. He didn’t even care if you weren’t ready to come back to London yet, but he needed to see you. He stood up from the couch and marched to the front door. He was going to get the next flight out to you.

He whipped the door open, ready to run to his car- and stopped abruptly in his tracks when he was met with your apprehensive face, one hand raised as if you were about to knock.

His eyes went wide, and he froze. He didn’t say anything, and you could hear him breathing heavily. His gaze flickered all around your face, almost as if he couldn’t believe you were really here in front of him.

“Hi,” you said hesitantly, lowering your hand. You opened your mouth to speak again, but he pulled you inside and against him before you could say anything. He held you tightly, arms wrapped against you as if you were going to disappear right before his eyes.

You reached up, putting your arms around his neck as he rocked you gently. His face was buried in your neck, and you could feel his chest shaking.

You just stood there with him, letting him hold you until you could feel his breathing evening out again. After what seemed like hours, he pulled away to look at you. He put his hands on the sides of your face, his eyes flicking between yours desperately as if he still didn’t believe this was real.

“Are you- are you home? Are you staying?” He whispered. His eyes were bloodshot and he looked like he hadn’t slept since you left. The sight was enough to make guilt stab through your chest.

“I’m staying,” you nodded. “I’m not going anywhere.”

He exhaled shakily, pulling you against his chest again. Your head was turned so you could hear his heartbeat, and it still seemed dangerously fast.

“I’m so sorry,” you murmured. “I should never have left.”

“It's ok,” he shook his head. “You’re here now.”

“It’s not ok,” you lifted your head to look at him. “I was angry. But I never should have let you think I was leaving you. That was unfair of me. I said awful things to you too, and I didn’t even say I love you before I left.” Your eyes were watering again, but you blinked back the tears.

“I didn’t… I didn't know if you were going to come back,” he admitted, voice thick with emotion. “I thought I lost you for good.”

You shook your head. “Of course not. I’m here, I promise, and I'm never going to do that again.”

“Good,” he laughed shakily, bringing up a hand to run through his hair. “I was terrified.”

“I know,” you said sadly. “And I feel like such an ass, coming back and just letting you welcome me with open arms. You should probably be really angry with me-”

“I’m not angry,” he quickly shut you down. “I was scared. I was so, so scared. I was about to get on a plane and fly out to you. And of course I’m welcoming you with open arms, I love you. You can always come back to me.”

You nodded, this time letting a tear slip down your face. “I love you too.”

He smiled, wiping the tear with his thumb. “What made you decide to come home?”

“I got there and I expected to feel better. I drove all around town, going past all the spots I used to love. It made me… nostalgic, I guess, but it didn’t comfort me like I expected it to. I went to my parent’s house, and they were great, but all I could think about was the times you’ve visited there with me. I went up to my room, and all I could think about was the time we stayed in there and my bed was way too small so I was basically sleeping on top of you. And how we couldn’t get to sleep because we kept laughing, because your hair was tickling me or I would hit you with my knee. Everything I did made me think of you. And I realized- that town isn’t my home, and neither is that house. This is my home. You are my home.”

His eyes were shining just like yours, and you both reached up to wipe the other’s tears away.

“You’re my home too. And if you want to move closer to your family, we can do that. I don’t care where we live. We can go anywhere in the world, as long as I’m with you.”

[sekceesimps]

Shimmering Through Darkness (a Zhongli x reader oneshot)

summary:   Rex Lapis finally retires and allows for Zhongli to spend time with his darling. Basically just tooth rotting Zhongli retirement fluff with a lil spice!  (tried to make reader GN)

a/n  Schlongli is so sexy I can’t. This man is literally my entire reason for shifting. Hope all of you enjoy some fluffy Zhongli. Leave some feedback and drop a request! 

Sincerely Coffee 

Rex Lapis had been tired for so long. His responsibilities over the thousands of years in existence had drained him of strength and the will to continue his rule over the land of Liyue. 

He had been wandering the lands and been practically stripped of all purpose in his life. At least, that was until he met you. 

Your meeting had felt fated and arranged by powers far more powerful than him. Zhongli truly believed that the two of you were soulmates and quite honestly he was probably correct. He was ready to spend the rest of his entire life with you, however long that may be. 

Now the two of you had met by chance on one of your work ventures. He had been off at Wuwang Hill for funeral arrangements, a task that he found needless, but was thrust on him by the lack of workers at the parlor. You had gone there to investigate a slew of ghostly sightings, a task which you were loath to do alone. 

He had run straight into you while you were wandering around the houses looking for clues from a mysterious particle. Instantly, he had been captured by your stunning E/C eyes, eyebrows furrowed in concentration, and body alert, but still relaxed. You had apologized for bumping into him and all he could do was stupidly stare at you open mouthed as you bashfully rubbed your neck with your hand. Ever the gentleman, he aided you with your commission and accompanied you back to Liyue Harbor. Well, next thing you know he’s inviting you to dinner and a few months later you’re living together. 

Your relationship blossomed much faster than either of you had expected. Zhongli was not going to complain though, every action of yours, as simple as it may be, seemed to spark something within him. Your very existence gave him reason to live and to plan a future that wasn’t a dead end one. 

He had been with many lovers over his years of existence, but none of them made him flustered or dream of keeping them close at his side. Zhongli prided himself on his calm composure, but when you gently ran your fingers across his knuckles or through his long dark hair, he was a blushing and speechless mess. To think that he was once the most fear striking and rageful Archon as you wrapped your arms around his lithe form and rested your chin on his head. 

You hadn’t really been shocked when he had told you that he was Rex Lapis. He was probably more surprised than you when all you did was shrug and leave kisses across his jaw. You truly are perfect for him, he thinks as you pull him to your side on the bed and shower him with love that he had not experienced in thousands of years. 

One of his favorite things to do with you is grasp your hand, lacing your fingers with his, and take you to all his favorite locations in Liyue. Really, his dates are just adventures of their own. He finds so much joy from being able to watch your eyes sparkle as he tells you a tale of a battle or an event that happened at a certain ruin or cliffside. His heart never fails to race when you rest your head on his shoulder and let him hold you close to his side. 

Living together was not something he wanted to ask of you, as you had yet to be married and his traditionalist ideals feared offending you. The concept of marriage was one of which he was beginning to entertain more and more. However, when you begin to stop accepting commissions in faraway regions, choosing to instead stay by his side more often, it leads to you not really being able to have a stable place to lodge. 

He was quick to use the Northland Bank’s funds to purchase a beautiful home slightly north of the bustling harbor. You were a little annoyed that he hadn’t consulted you and you could have paid for it yourself, however the pride in his eyes of being able to provide for you (ahem Childe provided for you, but neither of you say anything) just filled you with acceptance over the new developments. Shortly after, you decide to invite him to stay with you, not really knowing if he had even had a place to sleep in the first place. 

Zhongli preened under the attention you gave him at home. Almost every night, the two of you had accustomed yourselves to wrapping in eachothers arms and basking in the warm embrace of the other. These wonderful moments in your shared home gave him more meaning than he’d ever had before. His existence was now only to please and provide for you and your happiness. 

Retirement was an idea, just a faraway dream, that he could never be able to accomplish. He had his duties in Liyue! The people needed him to stave away threats and preside over the land. Yet, Zhongli no longer wanted to have dominion over Liyue, instead, he wanted to finally rest at your side. As the people of Liyue began to grow more self-sufficient, he began to see it fit to depart.

He had let the idea simmer in his mind for years, but now his plans could possibly reach fruition. He wasn’t like the Mondstadt Archon, Barbatos. Freedom was not his forte, he was the Archon of contracts. The great Rex Lapis had sworn to protect these people in the place he called home. As his definition of home shifted from the vast and diverse lands and mountainscapes of Liyue towards you and the warmth and love that you provided, his decision became clear. These people could care for themselves for the time being, and he wasn’t going to be going too far. 

When he broke the news to you, he had blushed at the way a smile broke across your face and you embraced him with fervor. He had planned for you two to live in your small home near the Guili Plains, but your begging to live somewhere with a few more people prompted him to decide to move to Qingce Village. After all, his home was wherever you were. 

You were the one who had to do most of the working and wage earning as he had no mora. He felt a bit guilty when you would come home exhausted every few days and he was just brewing some tea for the two of you. To be fair, the tea he made was very good and he was trying to master how to cook certain dishes so he could please you. 

Traditional husband and wife roles had shifted considerably as Zhongli was staying home and cooking and cleaning while he waited for you to come home from work. Your home itself was located in the outskirts of the village, allowing for a slightly longer travel, but privacy that Zhongli now desired. He was more and more relaxed and trusted you enough to mostly shed his troublesome human form. 

His draconic features were more apparent as he relaxed by your side in the spacious home. His golden eyes had a more prominent glow and two sharp curved horns protruded from his head. His nails were longer and more sharp and some days, parts of his skin would be shiny with scales. He was still in a human form for your convenience, however it helped him rest when he showed parts of his real body. Perhaps one day he’d show you his true self, but he’d have to do it in a secluded area, he is supposed to be dead after all.  

Zhongli in retirement was far more interested in children than he would have thought. While you might not have been technically married yet, something which he was eager to fix, he still wanted to start a family with you. After several long talks you decide to hold off for the moment, whether you want to have children or not, Zhongli is anxious to one day expand the home the two of you have created. 

Truly, he is much more domestic and eager to help you in any way he can. Especially in the bedroom. As he is slightly more dragon like now, those features seep into your more intimate moments. He’s more keen on marking and claiming you than he was before. Probably because he views you as his and is loath to allow others near you. He’s definitely more soft than before and prefers to have you guide the way. His yearning for that domestic life has really give you more control. It’s also given him a renewed focus on your pleasure and on taking care of you afterwards. 

Zhongli is glad that he found you. You’ve given him a sense of normalcy, a home, and love which he has never really felt before. You are his guiding light, his reason for life, and person he  wants to protect above all else. As his soulmate, you’ve cut through the darkness of the past several hundred years and provided him with everything he never knew he needed. 

a/n I’m currently writing Genshin NSFW HCs and I elaborate more about Zhongli there, so keep your eyes peeled! Hope you enjoyed this piece though. 

[redriotbaby]

finding out their s/o is pregnant ft. haikyuu

Pairing: Bokuto Koutarou x female! reader, Hinata Shouyo x female! Reader, Kozume Kenma x female! reader, Miya Atsumu x female! reader, Oikawa Tooru x female! reader, Sawamura Daichi x female! reader, Tendou Satori x female! reader

Rating: pg 13?

Genre: PURE FLUFF, established relationships, mood swing, a tiny fight with slight jealousy on Oikawa’s part, and some crackheadedness :) 

Warnings: mentions of pregnancy and anxiety

Word Count: 2.1k

Summary/ Request: “hi hi hi !! i just found your page and i love it it's so cute uwu🤩

could i request hc/drabble (anything really) of finding out their s/o is pregnant with tendou, daichi, hinata, bokuto, atsumu, kenma, oikawa

just a crumb of something to itch my brain please 👉🏻👈🏻”

A/n: Hello, thank you so much for requesting this. I had such a lovely time writing this and being all mushy. Just like all my other works, I had to find a way to make it a teeny bit of crackheaded. I hope you enjoy this work and thank you again. Also thank you to @meowstea​ for helping me brainstorm this (I adore you). Thank you to @plutointhestars​ and @jeonsjiddies​ for beta reading this for me. Requests are open, just please read my rules before sending in an ask. Also, if there’s any other warnings that need to be added, please let me know. I’ll be happy to add them for y’all. Hope y’all enjoy, any feedback would be greatly appreciated :)

Bokuto Koutarou 

It was your five-year anniversary with Bokuto and instead of going out, Bokuto wanted to be your personal chef for the night.

Weeks prior to your anniversary date, Bokuto spent his free time watching cooking videos and memorizing recipes of foods that had your eyes glimmer. 

Seeing all his hard work and puppy eyes, how could you say no. 

So here you were, admiring the love of your life happily cook a meal for you.

The delightful aroma causes you to unconsciously rub your growing tummy, the aroma making your mouth water.

You were currently twelve weeks pregnant and you’ve thought of ways to tell Bokuto but all ideas that came through your head didn’t seem like enough.

“Hey, honey? Did you hear me?”

“Sorry Bo, what did you say?”

“I was thinking now that we are married, you know, we could maybe start trying for a baby?”His words had you freeze in your spot. 

You weren’t sure if you felt relieved or a bit terrified of being put on the spot.

Almost if he sensed your silence, he turned around with the frying pan in hand starting to mutter apologies for being blunt.

Before he could get any more words out, you interrupted him but didn’t meet his eyes.

“We are pregnant, Bo.” You whispered and closed your eyes as you waited for anything to ease you. 

Instead of being met with his words, you heard the frying pan clatter on the floor.

“What?”

You took a deep breath and prepared to meet his disappointed face but instead, you were met with a teary-eyed Bokuto. 

Quickly, you made your way to your husband and pulled him towards you. 

You sat him down on the chair you were in and you took his large hand in yours to place a kiss on his knuckles before directing his palm to rest on your growing tummy. 

Bokuto’s eyes fluttered shut as he started to fully process it, his large hand on your tummy making you feel happy. 

Once his eyes opened, Bokuto pulled you into his lap and covered your face with sweet kisses while whispering the sweetest words only for your ears.

“Baby, I love you so much! Thank you for making me so damn happy!”

Your heart was full of utter warmth and happiness that you felt like you were on cloud nine.

Hinata Shouyo 

Hinata treated you like a queen. He always wanted to take you to the most beautiful restaurants with a perfect scenery just to see you glow in happiness.

Of course, you mentioned that you were happy with just being cuddled against his warm body at home but he always said that his queen deserves the best.

So that brings you to one of the fanciest restaurants that you have ever been to. 

You felt a bit uncomfortable because of how your fancy clothes clung to your growing belly. Your worried mind raced through different scenarios that you completely missed the waiter asking you what you would like to drink.

“We would like a bottle of wine. Tonight feels like a special night.”

Without thinking you answered, “No, I can’t drink alcohol for nine months. It’s bad for the baby.”

“Nine months? Baby?” Hinata muttered under his breath until it hit him. 

The waiter and Hinata looked at you with wide eyes and it took you a moment to realize what you had said.

“Surprise?” You shyly giggled at their reactions. 

Before you could say anything more, Hinata jumped out of his chair to pull you into his arms.

“Hey everyone, I’m going to be a dad!” The waiter and the people that were sitting near you congratulated the two of you.

Hinata’s hands cupped your face and placed a loving kiss on your lips and thanked you for making him the happiest person in the universe. 

Kozume Kenma

It was Kenma’s birthday and by his request, it was just a day at home. He wanted to spend his special day with the most important person to him in the comfort of your shared home. 

And of course, you could not deny his request.

You planned to make his favorite food while he played a few of his favorite games. 

While you waited for the food to simmer, you pulled out Kenma’s special gift and opened it to make sure everything was perfect for the thousandth time.

Today was the day you were finally going to tell him that you were carrying his child. You didn’t know how much longer you could continue to hide it since your belly was starting to show as each week passed.

You set up the dining table and called Kenma to come to eat with you.

Your heart pounded in your chest when you saw your boyfriend walk into the dining room with a smile on his face.

“Happy Birthday, baby! Before we eat, I do have a really special gift for you.”

With shaky hands, you handed Kenma the gift. You carefully watched his every move as he opened the box in his hands. 

“Player three is coming in 2022?”

He read out loud, clearly confused as he looked up at you.“We are having another person in our relationship?”

Kenma looked like a puppy that’s been kicked as his eyes watered and you panicked.

“Baby, no! Look at the rest of the box.” Your hand caressed his cheek as he pulled out an ultrasound picture from the box. 

Once it hit him, Kenma giggled and pulled you to sit on his lap. He nuzzled his face on the crook of your neck and sighed happily.

“So that’s why you have been wearing my clothes lately. Thank you, baby. I love you so much.” Kenma whispered contently against your neck.

Miya Atsumu 

It was the last set of the game. One more point and your boyfriend’s team would win the team.

It was the last game of the season and Atsumu asked you to come to see him play. 

He wanted to go to the game with you by his side but you had other plans for him. 

Of course, there was no way he didn’t leave the house with a huge pout on his face. So you had to bribe him with cooking his favorite meal when you came home together. 

Almost immediately when he left, your best friend, Osamu’s girlfriend, pulled up to your parking lot, waiting for you to head to Atsumu's big game.

“The poster’s in the back seat, I wrote what you sent in the last text and before you ask, the ultrasound is there too.”

Your nerves grew as you saw your boyfriend prepare to set the last point. You closed your eyes as you tried to calm your nerves.

Once you opened your eyes, you saw that Atsumu was looking right at you and smiled when your eyes met. He immediately hit the ball and scored right away.

When Atsumu scored the winning point, his teammates rushed up to him to celebrate.

Osamu’s girlfriend nudged your side as you both made your way to your boyfriend on the court.

Osamu saw the two of you head closer to the court and he called his twin over, already knowing what was going to happen.

Your body shook with nerves as you turned the poster around to let Atsumu read it.

“Congratulations Dad?”

Shaking his head at his twin, Osamu smacked the back of Atsumu’s head as he pointed to the ultrasound. 

When it clicked in his head, Atsumu dropped himself onto his knees and nuzzled his face onto your baby bump.

“My beautiful prize, thank you.” 

Oikawa Tooru

You knew it wasn’t Oikawa’s fault but who would stay calm when the waiter wouldn’t stop flirting with your husband right in front of you. 

It surely didn’t help that your pregnancy heightened almost all of your emotions.

Oikawa knew you were no longer enjoying the meal when he saw you unintentionally playing with your food.

He tried to talk to you but all he would get was really short answers. He could no longer sit there when he saw you get teary-eyed so he held your hand and walked out of the restaurant after he paid for the meal.

The ride to your shared home was silent, you avoided your husband’s concerned eyes by looking outside the passenger window.

Once you got home, you kept on walking ahead of Oikawa and the feeling of his eyes burning the back of your head riled you so much more.

“Baby, let’s talk. What’s wrong?”

“You know what’s wrong.”

“No, I don’t. Baby, you’re acting like a pregnant woman.”

“That’s because I am, you giant idiot.”

Oikawa’s eyes widened at your words as his mouth trembled.

“You what?” 

“You know what I said, you big dummy.”

His arm reached out to you and pulled you into his chest. He placed one of his hands on the nape of your neck while the other rested on your lower back.

“I know, baby. Just wanted to hear you say it again just to make sure that I’m not dreaming.”

“I am carrying your child, Tooru.”

His hold on your body became tighter as you said it again. 

“My dream has become true, thank you.” 

Sawamura Daichi

Nothing about today seemed out of the ordinary, just another casual day where you took a stroll in the park, hand in hand with Daichi.

Every step you took had you feeling sudden happiness that made your eyes tear up.

There were days where you would feel like this but those days were starting to feel like they were happening very often. 

You took the time to not only admire the beautiful park but your boyfriend. 

He seemed very distracted by whatever he was looking at so you followed his gaze and it led you to a playground full of toddlers. 

Your heart fluttered at the sight of Daichi unconsciously smiling.

The endearing moment came to an end when a little boy ran up to you with a woman running right behind him.

“Congrats, you have a child in there!” The little boy pointed at your tummy before turning back to the woman who was a few steps away.

Daichi’s eyes were stuck on your stomach while you started recalling the tiniest of things. 

Your hold on Daichi’s hand tightened when you remembered that your period hasn’t come.

Your eyes met your boyfriend’s and it’s as if you both had the same thought.

That’s what led you to this moment, Daichi sitting along with you on the bathroom floor as you wait for the results of three pregnancy tests.

The timer on your phone went off and your heart pounded violently against your chest as you turned the timer off. 

Your boyfriend’s hand reached for yours as if telling you that he’d be by your side regardless of the situation.

His free hand reached for the pregnancy tests sitting beside you and counted to three to see the final results

One…

Two…

And three positive tests that had Daichi’s eyes and yours simultaneously tear up.

Before you could say anything, his lips crashed against yours as he cupped your face in the palm of his hands.

“I’ll be here for the two of you, always and forever.”

Tendou Satori

Your husband, Tendou, went out to go buy a couple of things needed at home and medicine since you were feeling a bit under the weather. 

But the thing you didn’t tell him was that you were late. 

One of your friends had come over minutes after Tendou left to give you a few pregnancy tests because you wanted to make sure before you told him anything. 

You couldn’t bear to spend every minute sitting down by the tests so you paced around the bed until your alarm went off. 

Without peeking at the pregnancy tests, you sat down on Tendou’s side of the bed and held his pillow in your arms, his scent instantly calming you.

When you felt ready, you flipped each test around to be met with a bold “Pregnant” on the screen.

You stayed frozen on the bed as you continued to stare at the tests in slight disbelief.

You couldn’t tell how long you stayed frozen but you knew it was a while when your husband walked through the door, rambling.

“Hey, Princess. I found these really cute shoes that couldn’t wait for the future.”

“Princess, what are you- Oh!”

His eyes landed on the positive pregnancy tests and he softly cooed at you. Tendou sat right in front of you and caressed the apple of your cheeks as he whispered sweet words to comfort you.

He gently laid on the bed with you right against him and peppered tiny kisses on your forehead.

“I knew those baby shoes were calling to me for some reason.”

[hobidreams]

october 1869.

have you been mistaken all along?

pairing: joseon king!yoongi x reader genre: drama words: 1.2k contains: a shattering.

moonlit throne index. this is drabble 25. start from the beginning?

“Have you been busy today?”

The king asks this as soon as he steps into your chambers, casually kicking off the furled leaf clinging to the bottom of his shoe on the wood outside. The late October wind has lately been littering the palace grounds with the last remnants of summer as most of the plants prepare for their hibernation.

You bow as you watch him cross the space with as much ease as he would his own room, having spent so much time here in the past year. And the question he posed to you as greeting? It would be strange if he had not fallen into the habit of asking it some weeks ago, taking an unexpected interest that is making you steadily feel more and more comfortable with him even though you should be keeping him as far as you possibly can.

(Wasn’t it better when he treated this like an empty affair? Wasn’t that what he wanted?)

The king settles on the edge of the bed as he begins to undo his belt. A singular pat of the blankets beside him indicates that you should join him. And you do, saying, “unfortunately. Two of the cooks accidentally burned themselves today when there was an overflow, and we had just run out of the burn salve, so it was quite frantic. But we managed, and even had dinner prepared without much delay! Though… I was little help in that last part.”

“I remember. You attempted to poison me with yakgwa once.”

“Jeonha! That was an earnest try at making them as a gift!” Nothing more than a besotted young girl’s silly attempt.

He laughs lightly, casually at your protests, the smile that makes you far too fond once again. “I could certainly feel that in every rock-hard bite. Nearly broke my teeth with how earnest they were.” His belt clatters to the floor. “And how are the cooks now?”

“Recovering! And hopefully without much permanent scarring on their hands.”

“Mm. Good.”

Then his own hands are on you, as they always are before long. One slides broadly up over the thin fabric covering your back, fingers spread wide. Another firmly grips your thigh while his head dips low, ready to stake claim to your neck with his lips, the smile still stretched faintly across them. He now knows exactly how to make your breath hitch with just a few strokes. How to have you moaning, whimpering into his ear like his needy woman with the slightest skim of his fingertips over your skin.

Even though the warmth he sparked only blazes higher at his touch, you cannot be carried away. Not just yet.

“Ah, j-jeonha. Please wait.”

You gently ease back, and that is enough to make him pause. He gives you a questioning look, as you’ve never interrupted him like this before.

“It is nearly November,” you murmur.

“I am in possession of a calendar, yes.”

“No, um.” You stare down at your hands. “What I mean is… Daebi-mama. Her birthday… It will be soon.”

You’ve never once broached the subject of the late queen with him in all this time and it instantly feels like a mistake when he stiffens. Yanks his hands back to his own lap, away from you.

You force yourself to go on. “I—I wish to visit her. That is, her tomb… And burn incense. Since it is not too far away that we could feasibly return within the day, I thought it could be nice i-if you wish, jeonha? If you might, perhaps, possibly, like to come with me on that day, together?” The nervous words end up tumbling out all at once, a mess of syllables but at least they’re out. The thoughts have hung heavy on your mind for so many weeks.

He is mute.

Stares at you for long seconds until his brow furrows. His expression draws in so violently that the glare could rival the chill battering against the windows.

“You… Who do you think I am?”

Your mouth falls open at the anger simmering in his voice, groping for words in response but you can’t find them. With a single sentence, you are thrown back into the queen’s chamber, into that awful June day, where you stood at an absolute loss. Vulnerable, and scared. An entire year’s worth of feelings and experiences ago, but the cruel look he gives you now feels the exact same as it did then.

He scoffs. “You think… Honestly, you imagine I have time for such dalliances? To halt an entire day’s worth of business to do such a matter?”

“But the queen—”

“It is frivolous.” His teeth snap together. “Completely unnecessary.”

“J-Jeonha—”

“No. No. It’s ridiculous of you to even suggest it. I have absolutely no need for such a public display that only shows the people how weak and susceptible their king is. I will not lose all that I have earned.”

“I just thought—”

“No.” He stands up altogether in a flurry of fabric, glaring at you down his nose. “No matter what you have thought, that is final.” His hands are tight fists and he’s already sauntering towards the exit.

Your mouth feels numb even as you mumble, stuttering over the words, “a king can have emotions. Can have grief.” But he doesn’t hear. He’s already closed off his ears and, you think, you dread, his heart.

Without a single look further in your direction, he pauses just the once to sweep his belt off the floor and then he’s gone.

This is the first time since last November that he has come to you and left without indulging himself in your body. While you once so fervently wished he would come for the pleasure of your company alone, you didn’t want it like this. Never like this.

You took a risk, and this is where it has left you: reminded of where your place is in this world, in his world. Alone, you let your body fall onto the bed, one palm pressed to the sheets where his heat remains faintly still.

The door flies open, slamming into its frame as the king explodes into his room.

“Jeonha, you’ve returned early?”

Eunuch Kim is in the midst of tidying up some papers as he was instructed before the king left for Hamhwadang Hall. His confused question is answered with a vicious scowl, one that bodes only awful things, and would have made a weaker man shrink back if the he were not already long used to such vitriol. Even if it hasn’t been aimed in his direction for some time now, and Eunuch Kim had let himself believe that he would perhaps never see it with such intense fury again.

“Leave.”

“I have not yet laid out your schedule for Novem—”

Yoongi’s snarl grows even more prominent as he cuts the man off. “Leave. Get out. I don’t want the schedule right now. Just get out!”

Left with no choice, Eunuch Kim bows and quits the room. His heart feels stifling as he walks down the corridor, wondering just what the hell happened with uinyeo-nim to eradicate the rare, pleasant mood the king had left in. Just what, that has undone so many months of quiet, welcome change in an instant.

[saintorchid]

Smells Like Home

___________________

A/N: Yeah this is pure fluff baby. One of my mutuals informed me that there is bath and body works candle that smells exactly like Nanami. And you know what I did? I wrote a fic. Enjoy!

Warnings: none/I don't own bath and body works pls don't sue me

(bath and body works if you see this please think of it as free advertising please and thank you)

___________________

Two months ago at a shopping center, you and Nanami decided to pick up some necessities and maybe indulge a little.

Of course, going anywhere with your boyfriend Nanami requires some organization. Before leaving the house, you and Nanami created a list of the stores you planned to visit and things that the two of you needed to buy. If you know one thing about Nanami, he hates being in public. He instead stays at home with you, cuddled on the couch while you play with his golden hair. But now he’s in public with you holding your hand while you hum a song that’s been stuck in your head since last week.

Nanami looks at you while you checked the list you two made before leaving the house. He sees you muttering under your breath, “Okay, we picked up the new curtains, got some cleaning supplies yadda yadda yadda.”

You looked at the list to double-check that you two bought all the stuff you needed before heading home and cooking dinner. Nanami knows that you like to indulge yourself whenever you go out in public. You’ll sometimes buy under-eye masks for him and a new lipstick for yourself or a unique floral blanket. After living with you, he knows about your blanket obsession. Due to your obsession with soft fluffy blankets, you have a designated closet for blankets. He doesn’t mind. He likes to see you happy.

He smiles at the thought that crossed his mind and looked at you, still focused on the list. He breaks your train of thought.

Nanami speaks in a soft voice only reserved for you to hear, “Dear, is there any other store you would like to visit before we leave?”

You looked at the man with a gentle expression on his face. You spoke, “Actually, yes. Can we go to bath and body works? I’m running out of my favorite lotion.”

Nanami replies to you, “Of course we can go.” He could never say no to you. He’ll do anything for you to see a smile on your face. Both of you walked into the fragrant store, greeted by the salesperson.

You ask the salesperson where you could find your lotion, and she takes you to the lotion display. Before Nanami could join you, he received a call from his work. He stops you in your tracks.

“Hey honey, I have to take this call. It’s from work. It might take some time, depending on the situation. I’ll wait outside until you’re done.”

You reply, “Okay, sounds good, love.”

You and the salesperson resume on your journey to buy your lotion; after looking and finding your lotion, you come across a new candle display. Intrigued, you picked up the candle called “mahogany teakwood high intensity.” You smelled the candle and immediately thought it smelled just like Nanami. You didn’t even notice, but you headed to the register with the lotion and candle in hand. You paid for the items and headed out of the store. You found your boyfriend waiting for you with his hand held out. You grasp his hand, feeling how rough and calloused it is but always so gentle with you.

-Present Day-

Nanami yells at you from across the house, “Hey honey, have you seen my tie?” While he yelled at you, you were preparing his lunch for his business trip. Lately, business trips have frequently been happening. You understood that it was apart of his job, but still, you missed him dearly.

As you were chopping some fruit, you replied, “Did you check in your dress pocket? You tend to put them there when you prepare your suits!”

Nanami reached into his dress pocket, feeling the silk material between his fingers. He yells back a thank you. As he finished preparing his materials for the business meeting, he heads downstairs to put on his shoes and kiss you goodbye. You handed him his lunch, wishing him to come back soon and to be careful.

He kisses you goodbye, but before he turns his head, you grab him by his tie and kiss him harshly. Surprised by the sudden action, he kisses you once more.

“Honey, I have to go, or I’ll be late. You know how I like to be punctual.”

“One more,” You held his face with your hands.

“One more, what?” Nanami whispers. He knows that you get embarrassed when you ask for kisses. Seeing you get flustered makes his heart race.

“Kiss me one more time before you leave, please,” You look into his eyes, seeing his pupils dilate. You would do anything to have him stay a second more, but his job is important.

He grins and pours every single drop of love he has for you into a single kiss.

The two of you stand embracing each other. Nanami can be a minute or two late.

“How long will you be gone again?” You said into his chest.

“Four days and three nights,” Nanami kissed your forehead.

He lets go putting on his shoes and double-checking if he has everything. Once he’s sure, he says goodbye, and he’ll text you when he arrives at his destination.

The two of you exchanged ‘I love you's, and Nanami closed the door. It does hurt him to leave you, but he always brings you a souvenir from his trip to make it up to you.

——————

For the next two days, you did some chores around the house, read the book you have been putting off, and looked for recipes for future dinners. On the coffee table of your living room, you lit the candle you bought two months ago. It smells just like Nanami. You used this candle every time Nanami went on a business trip. It was used to compensate for him not being with you. The scent of the candle does feel like he’s right next to you. You yearned for him, but his trip was going to be over soon, which you were thankful for.

The third day rolls around. You headed out to the grocery store to buy some ingredients for today's dinner. After grocery shopping, you went to your local cafe ordering a drink and some pastries for you and Nanami to try.

You arrived at your empty home. Like a ritual, you put away the groceries and put the pastries on the table. You took a bath and put on a new set of clothes consisting of a pair of leggings and Nanami’s sweater. It was about six pm when you decided to continue to read your book. As always, you lit the candle on the coffee table. Its scent started to fill the room. As you read for an hour, you decided to start on today's dinner.

You put on your apron and washed the vegetables that you were going to use in your soup. You got into a rhythm: chop, toss the vegetables into the pot, stir, and clean.

Since you fell into a rhythm, you didn’t notice Nanami leaning against the island in the kitchen. Nanami’s business trip ended much quicker than he expected. Everyone on his team was super efficient and was very progressive on the current project they were working on, which made him more grateful.

You stopped chopping and put the rest of the ingredients into the pot string gently. It didn’t register in your mind that Nanami's two arms wrapped around your waist. Your body immediately recognizes his presence. You turn your head to see a man with a content smile on his face. Before you could say anything, he says, “I’m home.”

You stopped stirring and lowered the heat on the stove, letting the soup simmer for thirty minutes.

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He picks you up and carries you to the living room sofa.

You ask him how his trip was while stroking his face. He softly rubs circles on your hand that cupped his face. He tells you that the business trip ended early due to everything running so smoothly. You were so happy that you embraced him, knocking the two of you back onto the sofa.

The two of you laugh, enjoying each other's presence. Nanami strokes your hair. In the corner of his eye, he notices the candle. “Hey honey, what’s that?” He asks you.

“Oh, the candle? I bought it two months ago when we went shopping. It smells just like you, so I bought it. I light it every time you leave for a business trip. It makes me feel like you are still here with me.” You see his cheeks dusted in a faint pink.

Nanami feels so guilty about how any trips that he had to go on these past few months, leaving you all alone in the house. He speaks, telling you not to worry because, luckily for him, this would be his last business trip until the new year rolls around.

You were beyond ecstatic. You peppered his face with kisses while saying ‘thank you’ and ‘I love you between each kiss.

“I guess you won’t be needing that candle for quite some time, huh?”

You roll your eyes at his remark smiling bashfully. It’s been thirty minutes, and the soup was ready.

“C’mon, let's have dinner,” You said while grabbing Nanami’s hand heading towards the kitchen table.

The two of you eat, enjoying dinner. After dinner, Nanami washed the dishes while you prepared some tea for the pastries you bought earlier.

The two of you tried each other's pastry, critiquing the taste and presentation. Having Nanami be home felt like you were whole again. Little did you know he felt the same way.

[honeysidesarchived]

WHERE THERE IS NO TEMPTATION, THERE IS NO GLORY.

⊱ a santino d'antonio / oc short-fic

interlude ii ( read on ao3 ) ( masterlist )

words: 2.4k

warnings: none really! just an impending, pervasive sense of doom.

rating: m/t

notes: so happy to have finally gotten this little interlude edited and pieced together! just more soft moments because they deserve it considering what's going to be coming up. thank you everyone who has been reading/interacting with this little love project of mine; it took a minute to get myself dug out of the trenches and posting bite-sized chapters because this is a short-fic is definitely doing something to me (lmao) but we're here!

as always you can find translations on ao3, where it's easier to store them in a place that doesn't get in the way.

There is very little time between when Santino cooks her dinner and when he moves her into his apartment. It happens without much acknowledgment from her; she finds herself swallowed up in moments of casual intimacy that break her down to nothing except a girl in love.

Santino wakes her up by kissing her neck and pulling her against his chest; she makes him dinner barefoot in the kitchen, all of the recipes that her mother taught her, and he drags his hand along her hip to reach over her into the cupboard; he stands still and obedient while Euphemia slides his tie into place, and when he zips her dress for her, he peppers her shoulder with kisses. He tolerates taking a walk through the park, even in the chilliness of late Fall or Winter, because Euphie can’t stand to not get some fresh air once a day. When one of her friends asks why he lets her bully him into the cold weather, he wraps his arms around Euphie with a sly smile and says, “How could I not, when I am the one who gets to warm her up after?”

He is an exceptionally tactile man. There is always a reason for him to touch her, trace each line of her, put his lips against her skin. Santi isn’t a man who loves; he covets. And Euphemia shouldn’t like it as much as she does, but she does. Her therapist says that it isn’t uncommon for a girl who grows up without touching to crave it, desperately, like an addiction.

So, she finds herself living in his loft to feed that addiction—which becomes their loft—and teaching him words in French, and feeding him olives while sauce simmers (and does not boil), and kissing the red-wine taste from his lips. It’s all very romantic and greatly overshadows the moments where Santino comes home raging mad, or when his bad mood takes over their conversation and stirs a fight between them. They’re both hot-headed—her more so than he—and he knows all of the ways to diffuse her while she knows none about him.

But it doesn’t matter, in the end; because Santino always kisses her, and always says, Mi dispiace, cara mi, ti amo, ti amo, ti amo, lip-locking between each break in words until her lungs ache.

Euphie has never wanted to be loved sensibly, anyway.

Making money stops becoming an issue. Santino might have been fine letting her wrap up her loose ends, so to speak, encourages her, even—“You should never leave business undone, my Euphie,”—but he’d never tolerate her continuing to skim out of the pockets of his associates. Not out of respect for them, of course, but because Santino is more than happy to provide.

“I have to do something,” Euphie insists, often. But Santino clicks his tongue and shakes his head, inspiring indignation in her. “That money goes to my mother, Santi.”

“Princesa, what are you worrying for?” He replies every time. In this instance, he is reading over some documents, his voice casual, simple, effective at bringing her to heel. “If your mama needs money, she’ll get it. Tutto quello che vuoi è tuo.”

Euphemia used to think that he was doing it to be generous, but as time goes on, she knows that isn’t the case. If Santino didn’t think he was benefitting from sending her mother money every month, he wouldn’t do it: but he does. Euphemia stops playing at arm candy for other powerful men; he endears himself to her by taking care of her mother; he endears himself to her mother; he’s afforded a sense of control. There is no facet of it where he isn’t getting something out of it. And she thinks, too, that maybe Santino likes it like this, where she is completely reliant on him for everything.

She doesn’t mind so much.

She would, if Santino didn’t drench her in his longing, if he didn’t make her feel, every day, that he is desperate to treasure her. She has always heard about this kind of love—and it is love—and never thought she would have it for herself.

But she does now, and she doesn’t want to let it go.

━━━━━━━━━━━━

“Tea or coffee, mama?”

Santino is busying himself in the kitchen. They’ve been together for a little over a year now, and they’re on a tour of Italy—not for fun, necessarily, but for integration. They have just spent the last week with Santino’s father and sister, and now they will spend the next two days in the Tuscan countryside with her mother.

Two days for her mother, instead of the week that they gave Santino’s father and sister, in part because his father deserves more time and in part because Euphemia doesn’t think she can tolerate her mother in much more than two-day increments.

“Coffee, please,” her mother says, very charmed by Santino.

“Tea,” Euphemia interjects. She looks at her mother—her face is tired, and older than she really is. Euphie knows that this is a side effect of heavy, abusive drinking and years spent in emotional terror, not the passage of time. Still, she finds it hard to drum up anything except distant pity in her heart. “You don’t need the caffeine.”

“Oh, you always ruin my fun.”

Santino re-enters the room with a small cup—it’s an espresso cup, but he’s poured it with regular coffee.

“A compromise,” Santi explains, handing the cup to her mother, smiling handsomely. “To make both of my girls happy.”

Her mother preens, glows under the affection. “You are so sweet, Santi. A perfect son-in-law.”

He has always called her and her mother his girls. His own mother had passed since before Euphemia; and while he knows that Euphie’s relationship with her mother is strained at best, he does what he can to ease it. Because it makes her happy, he says, and if she’s happy, he’s happy.

“Not yet a son-in-law,” Euphie corrects, and Santino flashes her a quick, amused little smile.

“You see how cruel she is to me, madonna? I have asked her to marry me, you know.”

“Santi,” Euphemia sighs, but it has had its desired effect; her mother looks scandalized, mortified at her daughter’s resistance to marrying a man as good and handsome and charming as Santino.

“Effie, tell me that you haven’t been bullying Santino like this?”

“Mama, there is no reason—he is just teasing. Ascoltami, you don’t need to look so horrified.”

“I do not know where I went wrong with you, Euphemia Sancia.” Her mother clicks her tongue, muttering something under her breath and taking a drink of the coffee Santi made her, and Euphemia can’t bring herself to say that not everything she has done wrong in her life is a slight against her mother’s parenting skills.

Santino smiles and leans across to Euphie, bringing her hand up to kiss it.

“Don’t worry,” he says to her mother, his voice blooming with practiced warmth. “I will ask her as many times as it takes for her to say yes.”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest. She knows that he means it; he’s suggested it to her three times, now. It seems to be the only thing he doesn’t mind asking more than once.

“She’s always been fussy, my Euphemia,” her mother says, breaking the magic of Santino’s eyes on her. “Never happy with what she has, just like her father. Except for you, Santi—you are the only thing she holds onto.”

Exasperation and disgust flood over her. Both the mention of the man considered to be her father and any similarities they might share has her mood souring. “Mama—”

But Santino is sweeping in, like he always does when he can tell Euphie is getting tired of her mother, coming to a stand and asking her, “We should get started on dinner, cara mia, don’t you think?”

Just like that, he’s taken control of the conversation again. He sees her flailing and steadies her. Euphemia is certain that he doesn’t love her mother—that he doesn’t even like her—but that he can spend his time tolerating her with charm and grace despite knowing what her mother allowed to go on under their roof is indicative of the man that Santino is.

“Yes,” she replies, standing as well. “You look tired, mama. Take a rest while Santi and I make dinner.”

She wanders into the kitchen with Santino trailing after her. As soon as they’re alone, he winds his arms around her waist and kisses the juncture between her shoulder and neck.

“Is it true?” he asks coyly. “That you don’t hold on to anything except for me?”

She doesn’t want to tell him very much, because he knows already, and because to say it out loud will give it legs. A year together, and she still doesn’t want her feelings for him to have legs. Santino splays his fingers against her sternum and kisses her jaw.

“You know that it is,” she says at last, her voice a little unsteady. She can feel Santi smiling against her skin.

“Euphie,” he purrs, “marry me.”

Yes, she wants to say, as her eyes flutter shut. Yes, I’ll marry you, Santi. Anything that you ask. I’ll do anything for you, if you would just keep saying my name like that.

She wants to say it but the words won't come out. There is nothing quite like the feeling of Santino peeling back each individual layer of her defenses, piece by piece; so close, she knows, he is so close, but not quite. Not yet. She is most comfortable keeping him at arm’s length as much as possible—to kiss and to fuck and to let someone hold you at night is one thing. To let someone in past the barbed-wire of defenses is yet another, impossibly reckless. To be seen feeling anything deranges you, as the poets like to say.

“Sancia, hm?” he continues instead, when she can’t bring herself to answer, as the words stick in her throat. It’s one of those things where Santino seems to exercise a surprising amount of patience, this whole ordeal of to marry or not to marry; later, Euphemia will come to understand that it is because Santino believes their life together to be inevitable, that she will always say yes to him, one way or another.

For now, she turns in his arms, cocking a brow at him. He continues, “It means sacred.”

Euphemia nods sagely and props herself up on the counter. “Buon ascolto, my love. I suppose that means you should work very hard to worship me well.”

Santino laughs. He leans in, trapping her against the counter—though it isn’t much of a trap if she’s a willing participant—and noses the slope of her jaw.

“Yes,” he murmurs, “I suppose that it does.”

━━━━━━━━━━━━

On the last leg of their tour of families, Santino insists that they spend a few days in Rome by themselves.

The days are used mostly for doing a lot of nothing; neither of them are particularly interested in sight-seeing, but rather interested in seeing each other, a thing which they don’t seem to tire of particularly quickly. Instead, they shop, or lay in bed together until the afternoon, or go out to eat when street lights kick on and the city takes on a life of its own.

“You are much happier, Euphie,” Santino says one evening, smoothing out his napkin on the table absently, “when you are not around your mother.”

It’s not a question, per se, though she knows that he expects an answer. But she is still young and a little petulant, and she likes to push his buttons and make him say exactly what it is he means, so she takes a sip of her wine and replies, “Yes.”

He arches a brow at her. He looks particularly handsome like this, she thinks—not around his family, just eating dinner in a streetside restaurant in Rome, illuminated in warm candlelight and the glow of the streetlights outside.

“Are you going to tell me why?” he asks, amusedly.

“If you ask.” Euphemia sets her wine glass down on the table, and when Santino reaches for her hand, she lets him take it, his thumb brushing over her knuckles. “But it is so boring, Santi, to talk about my mother. Why don’t you ask me about something else?”

The brunette’s mouth is curving in a little smile. “Like…?”

“Like…” Euphie gestures with her free hand, like she has to really think about it. “Euphie, how did I get so lucky to have a woman like you? That is a good place to start. Or, what will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel? Or, Euphie, will I ever be so fortunate as to call you my wife?”

Santino laughs, leaning into their conversation, bringing her fingers up to kiss them. He has long lashes; soft, and dark, and they brush the tops of his cheekbones when his eyes close. Santino glances from her fingers up to her, that boyish grin on his face.

“I already know the answers to the first and last question,” he says casually, like it’s no big deal, but he’s grinning wickedly at her when he says it. She scoffs.

“Dimme poi,” Euphie insists. “I am dying to know, Santi.”

His expression is very sage, very wise, and he nods his head. “Il destino,” he says, winding their fingers together, “e tra un anno.”

There is something very heart-stopping about the way Santino articulates il destino, as though it is fact, as though there is something undeniable about their coming together.

“How do you know?” she asks. “In a year?”

“Because if you do not want to marry me by then,” Santino replies matter-of-factly, “then I am certainly not suited for marriage at all.”

She rolls her eyes, taking a drink of her wine and savoring the way his eyes trail over her, admiring, drinking her in.

“Well?” he prompts. She looks at him expectantly, and he reiterates, his gaze set on her, “What will you do with me once you get me back to the hotel, belladonna?”

Euphemia feels her heart stutter painfully in her chest when he looks at her like that; like she is the only person in the entire universe, like she has become the sun that snags him in her planetary pull, like he will never, ever grow tired of looking at her. It sweeps the breath out of her.

“Anything, mio amato,” she murmurs. “Anything you want, if you promise to never stop looking at me like that.”

[the-world-that-was]

11th century Talbina (Barley Porridge) by Ibn Sina/Avicenna

Today, I'll be making a simple barley porridge, as recorded by Ibn Sina (Avicenna) in the 11th century! This dish shares a lot of similarities to my Sumerian Sasqu recipe from a few months ago, suggesting that it may have been a regional dish in antiquity that has been preserved through the centuries to modernity.

In any case, let’s now take a look at The World That Was! Follow along with my YouTube video, above! Check out my Patreon for more!

Ingredients (for about 3 portions) 6 tbsp barley 1l milk honey sliced almonds (garnish) cardamom seeds

Method 1 - Simmer Milk and Soak Barley To begin with, we need to prepare our barley. Soak about 5 or 6 tablespoons of barley grains in a bowl of water overnight, to help break them down in the cooking process. So if you want to make this today, you should've started this yesterday. Or at least 4 hours beforehand. Drain these before using them!

Then, pour about a litre of milk into a saucepan, and set it over a medium high heat. Though the original recipe uses undescribed milk, I'm using whole-fat cow milk. But sheep and goat milk, or even almond milk, can also be used here! In any case, let everything heat up until it is just about bubbling.

2 - Add Barley and Spices While the milk is bubbling, go de-husk a few tablespoons of cardamom pods - using the seeds themselves in the dish. Keep these seeds aside for later! When the milk is at a rolling boil, pour in your soaked and drained barley, along with your cardamom seeds.

3 - Serve up Serve up in a bowl of your choice, garnish with a few scoops of sliced almonds, and dig in while it's still hot! Add in some honey, to taste, if the dish isn't to your taste!

The finished dish is a delightfully soft yet fragrant and sweet dish! The barley has broken down slightly into a toothsome paste, and the taste of the cardamom gives the talbina a wonderful floral kick to each mouthful. The original sources for this dish describe it moreso as comfort food - something that is rarely recorded in medieval cookbooks! Typically, contemporary documents would describe similar dishes, or things that would pair with the recipe in question. However Ibn Sina (Avicenna), along with numerous other contemporary Arabic writers, explicitly states that this dish is not a day-to-day thing, rather one that "relieves some sorrow and grief"

"The talbina gives rest to the heart of the patient and makes it active and relieves some of his sorrow and grief." [Saheeh al-Bukhaaree (5325)]

Though I used honey here, pureed and stewed dates may have been used as well - which we can see in my earlier sasqu recipe.

[headinthestaticsky]

The Dusk Calls for me: Jasper Hale x Fleur Swan, Chapter 12

AUTHORS NOTES: None of the characters in Twilight belong to me. All rights go to Stephanie Meyer.

We’re heading into the Finale of book 1 folks... I have so many ideas for book 2... it’s going to be great. Hopefully!

“You get ready, you get all dressed up

To go nowhere in particular Back to work or the coffee shop Doesn't matter 'cause it's enough To be young and in love.”

Love by, Lana Del Rey

Bella was finally going to meet the Cullens officially. All day before I had left to go down there she paced, looking like she was going to be sick. All of the Cullens were cooking Italian for Bella. The only person who I was worried about was Rosalie. She was furious at Edward for even dating her, and when he went public with her... it set her over the edge. Emmett was chopping up lettuce and other vegetables for her while Rosalie begrudgingly held a bowl for him to put it in. I was sitting in the living room with Jasper, he was concentrated on reading some books. It was always entertaining to watch vampires read so quickly.

“Is she even Italian?” Rosalie asked.

“Her name is Bella, Rose... she has to be.” Emmett replied.

“Emmett... you thought I was french just because my name is Fleur. That food was really good though... not like I am complaining. I said.

“Okay I admit I messed up there but, I have to be right about this one.”

“Whatever you say Em.”

“Shut it short-stack.”

“At least I don’t hit my head through small doorways.”

He glared at me jokingly and then rolled his eyes.

“Rose, tell her to stop bullying me.”

“I’m sorry I can’t do that... it’s too funny to listen to.” Rosalie said.

“Ugh, I feel betrayed.” Emmett said, his hands going toward his un-beating heart.”

Rosalie smiled, it was soon dropped though. She must’ve kept thinking about Bella.

“She better eat this.”

“Don’t want to sound gluttonous here but... I was totally eat if she doesn’t.... it’s her lose.”

“Stop trying to make me laugh.”

“I will never stop my attempts to make you laugh.”

“Woo, get a whiff of that, here comes the human!” Rosalie said in a sing-songy voice.

Esme smiled widely, she quickly wiped her hands before making her way over to Bella.

“Bella, we’re making Italiano for you.”

“Bella, this is my Esme my mother for all intents and purposes.”

Emmett raised his hand and waved at Bella with a knife in it. Bella and Esme exchanged a bit of Italian.

“Hello again Bella, hope you’re well.” Jasper said.

“Hey, Jasper... hope you’re well too.”

“You’ve given us an excuse to use the kitchen again. We usual make meals for your sister when she stays over.” Carlisle said.

“I hope you’re hungry.” Esme added.

I could see a nervous look on Bella’s face, I probably should’ve told her they would cook for her. 

“Y-yeah absolutely.”

“She already ate.” Edward said, a tinge of attitude in his voice.

Rosalie stood there, anger was all of her face. She smashed the bowl she was holding in her hand.

“Pull back Edward, you’re throwing her to the wolves!” I thought.

“Damn Rose... remind me not to piss you off again.” I said.

She had to bite down a smile.

“Perfect...” She said.

“It’s just because... I know you guys don’t eat. I didn’t want to put you into any trouble.”

“Of course, that is very considerate of you.” Esme comforted.

“Just ignore Rosalie, I do.” Edward said.

“Yeah, let’s just keep pretending that this isn’t dangerous for all of us.”

“Look, I would never tell anybody about you guys... Besides, Fleur knows and you trust her.”

“It’s because I pick up a good energy from her... I know I can trust her with anything I tell her. She’s not a backstabber, she’s told me some of the stuff you’ve done. I’m sorry but, it made me sick the way you use to treat her. I hated seeing how upset she got telling the things you and your mother said to her”

My eyes widened before looking down at my legs... maybe me being here just reminded them of some of the things I told them. I wasn’t being much help to Bella right now. Jasper sensing my nerves rising, calmed them down. My uncomfortable mood slowly simmering down.

“Rosalie, stop... don’t worry Bella, she knows you wouldn’t say anything about us to anyone.” Carlisle said.

“Well, the problem not is, you two have gone public now so...”

“Emmett.” Esme interrupted.” 

“No, she should know. The entire family could get implicated if this ends badly.”

“Badly, as in... I would become the meal.”

All of the Cullens in the house except for Rosalie and Esme started to laugh. I heard a few thumps before I saw Alice and Dean enter the room.

“Hi, Bella... I’m Alice.” Alice jogged toward Bella, giving her a hug.

“Hi.”

“Gosh, you do smell good.”

“Alice what’re you.”

“Don’t worry... Bella and I are going to be great friends.”

Dean looked like he was struggling to say something. I could tell he was uncomfortable to be around Bella right now.

“It-it’s a p-pleasure to meet you.” He said.

“Don’t mind Dean, he and Jasper are our newest vegetarians.” 

“It’s okay Dean, you won’t hurt her.”

The expression on Edward’s face made me want to laugh.

“Okay well, I’m going to show her around the house.”

“Okay.” Bella mumbled.

“I’ll see you soon.” Alice said.

“Okay.” Bella said again.

“So cute!” Esme gushed.

“I know!” Alice said in agreement.

“I think that went well.” Carlisle added.

“Rose, clean this up... now.” Esme said.

I leaned back into the couch, sinking into it. Jasper put his arm around my shoulder. “What an interesting visit.” I thought to myself.

Another day came and went by, Bella and I were on our way to the diner. It had been so long since I had been down there. I was in the passengers seat of her truck. I thought since we were going to the same place, we should probably drive in the same vehicle... During out drive she started talking about how Edward had been watching her sleep for months.

“Are you serious Bella? That’s kinda creepy.”

“I’m sure you have Jasper in your room with you at night.”

“Yeah but, he always asks me before he goes in there. We plan stuff like that out... He should be coming later tonight actually.”

“Okay... you have a point there.”

When we arrived at the diner and got out of the truck Mike approached us...

“Hey, you and Cullen huh? I don’t like it... I mean he looked at you like you’re something to eat.”

Bella and I looked at each other and smirked... he had no idea how correct he was in that statement. We walked past him and entered the dinner, dad was already waiting for us.

“Hey I hope you two don’t mind I ordered food for you guys already. I got you Bells a Spinach Salad and I got you a burger Fleur.”

“Yeah that sounds good.” I said.

“Good picks dad. Even though, you should get a salad like me next time... cut back the steak.” Bella said.

“Hey, I’m as healthy as a horse.”

"Hey , Chief, the boys want to know... did you find anything by Queets river today?"  The waitress asked.

"Yeah, we found a bare human footprint... but it looks like whoever it is is headed east... the Kisap County Sheriff is gonna take over from here."

 "Okay, I hope whoever it is... they get them fast." The waitress then walked away, a group of men started talking within there group.

I turned around hearing something outside, Mike was doing something to a poor bush outside. I nudged Bella, trying to get her attention.

“Hey, someone’s flagging you outside.”

“It seems that Newton boys got a big smile for you.” Dad added.

Bella looked, and then turned back around, her face looked horrified.

“You can join them if you want.” I said smirking.

“Shut up you jerk... Mike is a good buddy though.” She said back.

Dad face flushed slightly... as if what he was going to say next was embarrassing.

“W-what about any other of the yahoo’s in town?”

“Dad... we aren’t going to talk about boys are we?” Bella said, her face starting to turn red too.”

“I guess not... with you at least.... How is everything going with you and Jasper, Fleur?”

I looked up confused, how did conversation about Bella’s relationships get turn into one about mine.

“It’s going well.”

“Good, I noticed you’ve been spending a lot more time with him lately. That car ride you took was a long one.”

“Oh yeah we drove out for a while... we looked at the stars... it was really nice. He told me I seemed stress and just decided to take me somewhere.” I said, I looked down at my hands while smiling.

Dad seeing this smiled too.

“I always liked that boy, you got yourself I good one.”

“I know I do.” I said finally looking up at him.

“I was only bringing up boys with you Bella because... I feel like I leave you alone too much.”

“I don’t mind being alone dad, I’m like you in that way.”

“Yeah, I guess so.”

Timeskip: Later that night.

I was in my room, thinking about what dad had said earlier... He found a bare human footprint in the woods. Could it of been the same footprint of the woman who’s body I seemed to be suck in during my dreams? Or could it of been someone else entirely? The wind from my open window got harsher for a second, I then heard a familiar soft thud on my floor. I turned my head, locking my eyes with his.

“What’s going on in that head of yours love?” Jasper asked

“Just thinking of something my dad said earlier...”

“What is it?”

“My dad said he found a bare human footprint down at Queets river today... He said it was heading east. Have you guys found anything yet?”

“No, we haven’t found anything, it’s starting to get frustrating. Have you had anymore dreams about those vampires?” 

“Nope... if it is them though, I have a feeling that print was just a trap to throw them off course.”

“I do too... hey, my family and I plan on playing baseball tomorrow, since Edward is inviting Bella... I thought you could come too.”

“Yes, I would love too, watching Emmett climb and crash into things is my favorite part of the game. That and all those tricks you do with the bat.”

“It’s a plan then, I’ll pick you up tomorrow.”

“Sounds good.” I pecked his lips before getting comfortable in my bed, I was still a human... I needed some sleep. I laid there, Jasper behind me holding close.

“Tomorrow is going to be a fun day.” I thought to myself, before drifting off to sleep.

[tinisprout]

No Doubt in Us

Chapter Twelve - What I Want *written section below*

Fiance!Haknyeon x Fem!reader

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a/n: first time writting a make out scene so sorry if it sucks

Synopsis: Life is great, you have your dream job, you finally got your first big break, and you are now engaged to the love of your life. Happier than you’ve ever been, you live life one day at a time. Then one day a terrible accident happens leaving you in a coma. Where you finally awake, everything is not as you remember. Amnesia takes away 3 years of your memory, forgetting your beloved Fiance. Faced with a reality that seems unreal, as your mind is stuck in a past with uncomfortable memories, your future with him is uncertain.

Send me an ask if you want to be put on the taglist for this series

Taglist:@my-summer-night @deputyjuyeon @juhaktheoneforme @sunqnew @givememunjang

Word count: 2.9k+

Warnings: make out session, Hak gets blue balled :)

Things have been going pretty smoothly between you and Haknyeon since the date. You even had a small in-home date the week after, you were content but not satisfied. The romantic tension has been building up in the house, for you at least. You couldn’t tell what exactly Haknyeon was thinking or feeling. There were a collection of moments where something could have happened between the two of you, but Haknyeon always backed away first.

You figured he was just trying to be respectful towards your feelings, except you were feeling that you two should have at least kissed a long time ago. Your attraction towards Haknyeon grew each day, finding out more about him and his little oddities. You found out while going through your recent books how much Haknyeon influenced your writing, you could see it wasn’t a coincidence that the male lead in your sixth book was so similar to him. This only made you feel more drawn to him. The most you had done was hold hands, and that was on the first date, at this rate if you didn’t do or say something kissing would be about six months away.

You sighed as you were trying to work on your latest work, it would go smoothly till your mind drifted to Haknyeon. You get up from your desk seat stretching your body, you go grab your phone from the bed. You send a message to him asking when he is coming home. He responds quickly and you smile. After finding out he’ll be home soon you think about how to move things along.

Going back to your laptop you save the document you were working on, deciding that you did enough for today. You walk downstairs to the kitchen looking for what you can make for dinner. You realize out of all the times you cooked it never seemed to be enough for Haknyeon. When he cooked there was considerably more food compared to your meals, he never complained, but you could tell he was used to eating more than what you made. You decided to try making more food from now on.

Almost an hour has passed and the food is almost done. You just let it simmer. You cleaned up the mess you made while you waited, it was all short work now so you also set the table while you waited. Just in time, you hear the door unlocking and opening as you set the bowls down.

“I’m home!” Haknyeon calls out from the entranceway while taking off his shoes. You came to greet him, poking your head into the entranceway.

“Welcome back.” Haknyeon smiles at your greeting. “You’re just in time, I just finished making dinner, so I hope you’re hungry.”

“I always have room for food.” He follows you back to the kitchen, watching you turn off the burner.

“You can put your stuff away first, I’m still setting up.” Haknyeon just drops his duffle bag in the living room before coming back to you looking eager to help.

“I can help too.” Add that to the list of things you find attractive about him, always so helpful and caring.

“Okay, take these to the table then,” you hand him the rice bowls and he happily complies. Dinner starts as it normally does and you ask each other the usual question of how was your day. He compliments the food joyfully eating to his heart’s content, which makes you happy. There wasn’t much to say, but it was very natural for the two of you to fall into silence while eating, focusing on the food.

You finished eating before Haknyeon, but you still sat at the table letting the food settle a little. You were glad that you made more seeing how well he is eating everything.

“You are really cute, you know that?” You suddenly speak up and he freezes at your statement.

“...Thank you?” He was flattered but confused as to why you said that out of the blue.

“I just wanted you to know what I think.” He nods accepting your answer and continues to eat for a bit more trying to play it cool while having a freak out on the inside. When he finally sets his utensils down you speak once more. “Now that you’re done, there is something I want to talk to you about.”

“Is that what your texts were about?”

“Yes, but like I said it’s nothing bad, actually it should be pretty good for the both of us.” he gives you a curious look.

“I’m all ears.”

“So you know how we’ve been sleeping downstairs since that one time? Well, I’m kinda tired of sleeping on the floor.”

“I already told you, you didn’t have to stay with me. You can go back.”

“I know, I thought instead of going back by myself you could join me back.” You wait for his reaction which seemed delayed.

“...You mean you want to sleep in our bed, together,” Haknyeon says, putting emphasis on the last word.

“Yeah, I don’t see the problem. You have my full trust that you won’t try anything if I’m not ready.”

“I didn’t say it was a problem, just… are you sure? You’re not saying this because you feel bad or something?”

“Honestly I do feel a bit bad, but this is something that I want to do as well,” you place a hand over your heart showing your sincerity. Haknyeon is silent for a moment searching you for any hint of hesitation, but there is none.

“Okay then, thank you for trusting me.” You both smile at each other and start to clean up the table together. Very slowly, the two of you were making progress in your relationship. After the clean-up was done, Haknyeon went to properly put his duffle bag away and you went to do your evening ritual of watering the plants in your yard. Although it wasn’t much of a yard to speak of seeing how small the space was, it was still enough for you to have a variety of potted plants large and small.

You took your time caring for each plant and cleaning the fallen leaves and petals off the ground from the flowering tree that was in between yours and your neighbor’s house. You finally get to the hydrangea plant and see that there is a small odd-looking cluster, you realize that it's the bud and get excited. Looking around the hydrangea you see a few other buds, you crouch next to it, praising the plant and asking it to continue growing well. You were excited to see them bloom, you had asked Haknyeon before if you had grown these flowers before and he answered that you tried last year but they didn’t bloom at all. This made you more excited to see them, it wasn’t like you had never seen Hydrangea before, but it was different when you grow the plant yourself.

“Haknyeon?!” you call out to him hoping he can hear you through the small crack you left in the sliding door.

“Did you call me?” you hear his voice shout from in the house.

“Yeah. Can you come out here and look at this, please?”

“I’m coming.” He comes out soon after and slips on his outdoor slippers walking next to you, raising his eyebrows asking what’s up.

“Look, they have started to bud.” You beam a smile at him while pointing at one of the buds. He looks at it, noticing all the buds giving it a curious glance crouching next to you.

“I’ve never seen them as buds before…,” he smirks. “It looks a little weird.” you chuckle nodding in agreement.

“What color do you think they’ll be?”

“Hmm, I don’t know. I think blue would be a nice color though.”

“I hope it’s purple. Maybe it will have both colors.”

“Fingers crossed,” you say and the both of you cross your fingers. The wind blows a particularly strong breeze knocking off dozens of petals off the tree, annoyingly landing into your yard again making you sigh, which Haknyeon laughed at. You decided to look at the bigger picture, at least it made a beautiful scene like in those anime. “Well, at least it's pretty.” Your back faced the setting sun while streaks of light shone on Haknyeon's face painting him an alluring golden color.

Haknyeon's eyes that were focused on the tree switch to you realizing you are looking at him. His eyes squint a little at the sun, he notices a couple of petals had landed on your head.

“Very pretty.” He reaches out, plucking one of them off your head and gently brushing the other ones away. He showed you the petal in his hand, tittering. For a second you thought he was talking about you and then felt mortified to realize that wasn't the case. He blows the petal away oblivious to your current emotions.

“That… were you trying to be romantic?”

“Huh?” Haknyeon questions you but then realizes what you mean. “Oh, no. Sorry, I didn’t even realize. I meant the flower. Wait no, I’m not saying you aren’t pretty. The flower is pretty, but you are prettier.” You felt a little down at first knowing he meant nothing by it, but seeing him trying hard to appease you made you laugh out loud. Hearing you he groans and mutters, “What am I even saying?”

“You’re good, I understand,” you say while trying to stifle your laughter. Now it was Haknyeon’s turn to feel mortified.

“Haha, yes, very funny.” He dramatically rolls his eyes and then stands up. He offers you a hand up, which you take, standing up as well.

“Sorry sorry. You really are cute though….”

“I won’t be able to take much more if you keep complimenting me like that,” he grabs at his heart playing up the act.

“And what would you do?” You cross your arms, tilting your head in question.

“Hmm, probably die,” he clasps his hands together over his stomach acting like he’s dead. Then I would wait for my true love to kiss me back to life.” He peeks one eye open, smirking, looking for your reaction.

“Okay, prince charming. Back into the house with you,” you say, trying to hold back your smile. You wondered what you were going to do with yourself if he kept joking like that, you might actually lose it and just kiss him. Your answer to him would have been different if you knew at the moment he was seriously testing the water to see how you felt about kissing. Haknyeon thought he had a chance of a positive answer considering how flirty you were today, but he doesn’t take your answer to heart.

“Yes ma’am.” He told himself he would try again another day. As Haknyeon went back into the house, you continued your work in the yard.

***

The rest of the evening continued as per usual. Though the real trial to come for both of you was going to sleep. After you finished preparing for bed, while you were waiting in bed for Haknyeon you made a tweet wondering if moving to the bed would have been too sudden, still, you don’t regret your decision. You see that Haknyeon replied to the tweet and you smile since he was less than 15 feet away in the bathroom. He came out of the bathroom soon after and casually took up his old spot.

“Welcome back to the room,” you say, facing him. He turns his body to the side facing you.

“Good to be back,” there is a pause with nothing much else to say.

“Goodnight, Haknyeon.”

“Goodnight, y/n.” You turn your back to him pretending the reason was to get comfortable, but really you were nervous because of how close you were this time around. Before you could sleep at the edge of the blanket but now the edges hung off the side of the bed so there was less surface area to lay on. You try to calm your mind, It’s whatever. This isn’t the first time we slept together anyway.

Your mind drifts to earlier in the evening, when Haknyeon had mentioned kissing, That was my chance, wasn’t it. Stupid. You chastise yourself for unknowingly hindering yourself. I can fix this, I just have to make the first move. I don't think I can wait for Haknyeon… forgive me for being greedy.

“Haknyeon?” You say while turning back to face him again.

“Hmm?” He hums in response, eyes still closed.

“Can the heroine revive you?” his eyebrows knit together unsure of what you are trying to say and then opens his eyes to see your sincere ones staring into him.

“What?”

“I’ve been thinking for a while now that maybe we should move things along.... I don’t know about you but I’ve been feeling some romantic tension between us for a while now and I think I might go crazy if it stays like this, and nothing happens.” Or maybe I'm already crazy for even saying all this. “Can we kiss?” He finally realizes you were referring to what he said about needing a kiss to come back to life.

“Seriously?” To Haknyeon this proposal seemed out of the blue since he thought he was rejected earlier today.

“Very serious.”

“That’s what you want?”

“Mhm.” He lifts his body, propping himself up with his forearm and you scoot a little closer to him. He cups your cheek with his other hand caressing you for a while. Your heart pounds hard then you feel his breath tickle your face as he draws closer and you close your eyes thinking this is finally it. You feel his lips press against your cheek and open your eyes when it wasn’t what you expected.

You saw his warm gaze on you before you closed your eyes again as he went back in for another kiss on your other cheek and then another. You opened your eyes once more when he pulled away once more cheeks pink, apologizing.

“Sorry, I don’t know if I can do this. I don’t want to take advantage of you.”

“Haknyeon, I need you to trust me when I say, you aren’t taking advantage of me. I know what I want. You aren’t forcing me,” you say while you reposition yourself to sit up moving closer to him again, placing your hand behind his neck. “You can’t say ‘you can’t’ after teasing me with those kisses when you knew I wanted something like this. With those words, you lean into him and he closes his eyes this time, giving him a small experimental open mouth kiss.

His lips feel soft against yours and you find yourself wanting more of the softness. You pulled away and just as quickly kissed him again, you could feel this time his hand on your cheek moved to the back of your neck, pulling you closer. Slow and gentle, you feel how he was caring for you, this only riled you up, wanting more. Your fingers found their way to his silky locks, nails scratching his scalp. A groan came from Haknyeon’s throat in response but he didn’t pull away so you pushed further.

You traced his lips agonizingly slowly seeing how far he would let you go. His eyes flew open when he felt an acute pain on his lips. You both lock eyes as you lightly pull on his lower lip with your teeth, making him let out a small gasp. You pulled away unsure if you hurt him. He fully sat up and then leaned over you, grabbing your chin.

“Be careful. I’m the type that bites back harder.” His words sent shivers down your spine. This time he moves first, pulling your shoulders, bringing you back to him. True to his words he bites your lip and you jump letting out a whimper at the sensation. As if to quell your pain he runs his tongue along your bottom lip, instinctively you open your mouth to let him.

As his tongue pushed past your lips you could feel your body get increasingly hotter by the second, slow and gentle turned into feverish and greedy as his tongue dominated your mouth. Haknyeon had to constantly remind himself to not move his hands from your shoulders. It’s just a kiss, just a kiss, he tells himself. Your hands rested on his forearms, squeezing them as you whimpered into the kiss. I’m so fucked.

Haknyeon pulled you away and pushed you down on the bed firmly. You can hear each other’s labored breathing, trying to catch your breath. He lowered his head and kissed your lips once more, but just as quickly pulled away as if that is all he would allow himself.

“Haknyeon?”

“That should be enough, for now.” you nod your head in agreement. You weren’t sure what possessed you to lose yourself like that. It was taken farther than you thought it would be, but it wasn’t bad. Actually, you really enjoyed yourself, so much so that you felt sleepiness follow after the excitement.

“I’m a little tired now.”

“That’s okay. You can go to sleep.” you move into a comfortable position facing him this time.

“Can I hold your hand?” Haknyeon was in distress but aided your request. You closed your eyes peacefully with his hand in yours. Meanwhile, Haknyeon wasn’t sure what to do. He didn’t think he would end up blue balled tonight. Would it settle itself before you fell asleep or would he suffer till you fell asleep so he could take care of himself in the bathroom?

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[thatfanficstuff]

Feelings - Tony DiNozzo

Pairing: Tony DiNozzo x reader

Warnings: canon typical violence and situations, language.

A/N: 3500 words. Way longer than I’d intended. First time writing Tony x reader. Hope you like it. 

***

Gibbs had his rules for a reason. You didn’t ask about those reasons. It was hard enough just remembering the damn rules without worrying about the back story that went with them. There was a rule for just about anything: dealing with attorneys, putting family first, not annoying Gibbs. There was even that one rule about not dating your co-workers that you were dying to know the origins of but were in no way brave enough to ask.

Unfortunately, there was no rule about falling in love with your co-worker. Sometimes you wondered if there was, if you could have avoided all this. I mean, you were so careful about following the rules to the point that Tony often made fun of you for having them memorized. If you were honest with yourself, you knew it wouldn’t have mattered. Hadn’t you tried everything you could think of to keep your heart from falling for his hazel eyes and lazy smile?  

He was a player. But that didn’t stop your gaze from following him as he headed to the elevator and his latest date.

You reminded yourself he never took anything seriously even while you laughed at his latest prank.

He talked about movies way too much. It was obsessive really. That didn’t stop you from watching every film he mentioned, a bowl of popcorn in your lap and an empty space beside you on the couch.

Maybe that was the problem. Perhaps you were just lonely. Maybe—

“Y/N,” Tony’s voice pulled you from your thoughts and you realized you’d been staring at the same piece of paper on your desk for the last half hour. Shit.

You glanced up, eyebrows raised in question. “Yeah?”

His brow was furrowed and his gaze was filled with concern. “You okay?”

Your cheeks heated and you turned back to the papers on your desk. “I’m fine.”

Tony huffed. “If there is one thing I know, it’s that a woman is never fine when she says she is. So, what’s going on?”

You shook your head. “It’s nothing, Tony.”

The next thing you knew, he was right beside you, perched on the corner of your desk. If Gibbs and McGee were here you wouldn’t have to deal with this. McGee would tell him to leave you alone and Gibbs would smack the back of his head. They both respected your privacy. Your need to not share every aspect of your life. Why couldn’t you have fallen for one of them?

 As you leaned back in your chair, you ran your gaze over him until you met his eyes. “Can I help you with something, DiNozzo?”

“It’s never nothing, Y/N. You’re always zoning out lately. Something’s bothering you.”

“I just didn’t sleep well. It’s not a big deal. Everyone has off days, today’s one of mine.”

He hummed as he tilted his head and narrowed his eyes. “Normally I’d give you that, but this has been going on for weeks. So, what is it? Money? Are you sick? Have a fight with Abby?”

You just leaned back in your chair and kept your eyes on the man sitting on your desk like he owned it. He continued to list topics, pausing between each one to gage your reaction.

Suddenly, his brows shot up as he frowned. “Is it a guy?” The tone of his voice said that it couldn’t possibly be the right answer. It would have been so easy to fool him, but you couldn’t stop your eyes from moving away from him, afraid he’d see everything you were too afraid to say.

“It is!” There was an undertone to his voice you couldn’t quite place.

You ignored it, and him, to turn your attention back to the paperwork on your desk.

“I didn’t even know you were seeing anyone. Why didn’t you say anything?”

“There’s nothing to say, Tony. Now can I please get back to work? I really don’t want Gibbs chewing my ass again.” You were far enough behind on your paperwork that Vance had said something to your boss. That had earned you a head slap and an admonishment about you knowing better.

Tony grabbed the pen from your hand and dropped it on the desk. “Come on. You know Gibbs doesn’t care about paperwork. He’s just passing along the ass chewing he got from Vance. Quit avoiding the question. Is this why you’ve been skipping out on our dinners?”

You sighed. Tony liked to eat and you liked to cook so you’d started inviting him over once a week. Lately you’d feigned other plans to keep from having to spend an evening concealing your feelings. “Actually, yes.”

“Nice. You start getting laid and leave me to starve.” He moved back over to his desk with a scowl on his face. “I thought I meant more to you than that.”

His affronted tone had you rolling your eyes. “I didn’t say anything about getting laid. And you’re hardly starving.”

“Tell that to my scale. I’ve lost five pounds since you quit feeding me.”

His disgruntled tone bothered you. “Are you okay, Tony?”

He shook his head but said, “Yeah, I’m fine. Just miss your cooking is all.”

His phone rang before you could respond. After a quick conversation, he hopped to his feet. “Johnson hasn’t showed up at home. Gibbs wants us to try his mom’s place while they sit on the apartment.”

***

Despite your suspect’s mother claiming she hadn’t seen her son in months, it was your experience that people tended to run home when scared. You hoped that’s precisely what this suspect had done as you were more than ready to close the case.

Tony parked along the curb at the end of the driveway so no one could pull out while you two were otherwise occupied. He took the front while you went around the back. He gave you a moment to let you get into position before knocking on the door. As you listened to the hum of him talking to someone, you kept your weapon trained on the back door. A moment later, the unmistakable feeling of a gun pressed against the back of your head. Shit. You should have done more than your cursory examination of the backyard.

“Easy there, sweetheart. Hands up.”

You did as instructed, and he yanked your weapon from your hand. “Phillip Johnson, I presume.”

“That’s me. Give me the keys to the car.”

“What car?”

He slammed the side of the gun into the back of your head. Not hard enough to knock you out but hard enough to give you an instant headache. “Don’t play stupid.”

“I don’t have the keys. I didn’t drive.” You forced the words through teeth gritted in pain.

He stepped up behind you to pat down your pockets. “Fuck,” he growled when he discovered you were telling the truth.

“Look, just go. It’s not like I can shoot you as you run away, you have my weapon.” You wanted to diffuse the situation, to try to control the fallout from your fuck up. He was angry and armed and was the type to start shooting people if he felt trapped.

“So you can scream for help before I get two blocks away? I don’t think so.” He pushed you toward the back door. “In you go.”

You gave a brief thought to yelling for Tony but kind of liked your brains where they were. Johnson had already killed once, what was to keep him from killing again? He shoved you through the house causing you to stumble more than once. You could hear Tony still arguing with the mother at the front door. Johnson stepped up behind you and pinned you against his chest with a thick arm, the gun now shoved against your temple. He walked you into view of the front door though you couldn’t see anything as his mother blocked the opening.

“Look, Mrs. Johnson, while I appreciate your position, the fact remains that we have a warrant for your son’s arrest. You’re gonna need to let me in to make sure he’s not here or we’ll come in anyway and won’t be nearly as nice about it. I’ve already called backup. They’re on the way.” Tony was using the placating tone he always used when trying to convince a suspect or a witness that he was harmless and reasonable.

“You come in and your friend dies,” Johnson yelled.

His mother was pulled from the doorway and onto the front porch behind Tony who had his gun drawn and aimed in almost the same moment. His eyes were glued to the weapon pressed to your head. His face lost what little color it had. “Let her go, Phil. You don’t want to do this.”

“Oh, but I do.” He moved forward and slammed the door in Tony’s face. He shoved you and put some space between the two of you. “Close the blinds and the curtains,” he ordered. When you dared to look at him, he waved the gun as if to bring your attention to it. Like you could forget for a minute the situation you were in. Your eyes flicked down, spotting your sidearm tucked into his waist band.

Your brain worked through scenarios even as you did as he’d ordered. As you closed the last blind you caught a glimpse of Gibbs stepping from his vehicle. Your team would get you out of here. They had to.

***

It had been almost two hours. Once you’d secured the house to his satisfaction, Johnson had used your own cuffs to restrain you. Fortunately, he was an idiot and left your hands in front instead of placing them behind your back so you’d have less mobility. He was using your phone to talk to Gibbs periodically. He’d put the calls on speaker and you could tell Gibbs’ patience was wearing thin. You’d tried to talk to him during the first call and Phillips backhanded you with the gun still in hand. The whole right side of your face felt tight and sore. Asshole.

“What the hell is taking so long?” he muttered as he peered through a gap in the blinds. He glanced over at you. “Call him.”

You reached forward and pressed the button to call Gibbs and put it on speaker. “Gibbs,” he answered.

“Where’s my money and my car?”

“I told you it was going to take some time. If you want to forget about the money, you can leave right now. I’ll even give you a police escort out of town. Just let your hostage go.” You could hear the anger simmering in his voice.

“You have thirty minutes or I start sending her out in pieces.” He slammed his finger down on the disconnect.

“Well, that was monumentally fucking stupid.” So was pissing off the man with the gun but you were running out of time. You’d been waiting for an opening, but thus far hadn’t found one. It was time to make one of your own.

He shoved the barrel of the gun against the temple on the sore side of your face and you winced. Fucker. “What did you say?”

“You just confirmed that you have no problem hurting me. And you put a timeline on it. They’ll try to take you out now.”

Uncertainty flashed on his face and he glanced toward the windows.

“You were smart covering the windows, but they’ll be getting ready to send in a tactical team now. They’re probably already out front.”

After a second of indecision, he moved away from you to peek through the gap between the blind and the window. His gaze kept darting back to you. “I don’t see anything.”

You shook your head. “They’ll be prepping further down the street so it’s harder for you to see.” You gestured to one of the other windows. One that would put him close to you with his back turned while he tried to get a view of his impending doom.

As he moved to the new viewpoint, you leaned forward, shifting your legs so you could get to your feet quickly. The moment his attention was elsewhere, you launched yourself at him. He grunted as he slammed against the wall and window.

“Bitch!” He tried to turn, to get the gun up, but you didn’t give him even a single moment to recover. You couldn’t or that would be the end of you. Instead, you shifted your weight to come at him from a different angle. You drove him toward the ground, grabbing your gun from his waistband as you went.

The impact knocked the weapon from his hand. You pushed yourself to your feet and aimed your weapon. Johnson didn’t even notice as he scrambled for his own gun. You fired a round into the floor by his head and he froze instantly. “Give me a reason.”

He rolled over, hands raised in front of him. Your phone began to ring but you kept your attention, and your gun, on Johnson. “Couch,” you instructed.

The call had barely had time to go to voicemail before it began ringing again. If you didn’t answer it soon, things would get a hell of a lot more chaotic. Still, you waited until Johnson sat on the couch to move over and grab the other gun from the floor. You laid it on the table beside you.

Your phone started another cycle of ringing and you heard Gibbs on the bullhorn. “Answer the phone or we’re coming in.”

You answered the call on speaker phone, needing to keep your hands free for your gun. “You can come in, but I’m going to be real pissed if someone shoots me.”

A sigh of relief was the immediate answer.

“Johnson has been disarmed. I’m the one that fired the shot. See you in a second.”

It wasn’t even a breath later that the front door opened and people swarmed around you. You kept your weapon trained on Johnson even as he was pulled to his feet and placed in cuffs. A hand settled on top of yours and you followed the length of the arm to find Gibbs standing next to you. “We’ve got him. You can stand down, Agent.” His jaw tightened as he took in the injury to your face. His eyes found yours and softened. “Give me the gun, Y/N.”

You nodded and loosened your grip so he could take the weapon from you.

“DiNozzo, get her out of here,” he ordered.

You turned to your other side to find Tony. The smile he gave you was strained, but it was good to see it just the same. “Hey.”

His smile widened, became a little more genuine. “Hey.” He unlocked the cuffs and took them off before tossing them to Gibbs. He wrapped an arm around your shoulders to steer you out the door and you relaxed against him, content to simply be in his presence after the last couple of hours.

“You scared the shit out of me,” he said as he led you to a waiting ambulance. “Let’s not do this ever again, okay?”

“But I was so looking forward to making it a weekly thing.” You sat so your feet dangled out of the back of the ambulance while the medic looked you over. Tony stood silently, arms crossed over his chest as he watched them work. You grit your teeth and flinched as they pressed against bruised skin checking for broken bones. You cursed outright when they found the bump on the back of your head.

“It wouldn’t hurt to have this checked at the hospital to make sure you don’t have a concussion.”

You waved him away. “I’m good. Promise.”

“Y/N/N, maybe you should—” Tony interjected but you cut him off.

“I just want to go home, Tony.”

He looked uncertain.

“Please.”

He thought a moment more before saying, “Yeah. Okay.”

Your shoulders sagged in relief and you took the hand he offered you. Once you were on your feet, he stayed close but released your hand. Instead, he settled his at the base of your spine to steer you through the scene until you stood in front of your boss.

“They clear you?” Gibbs asked, looking between you and Tony.

“Sure did, boss,” Tony answered for you, sounding entirely too upbeat. You resisted the urge to smack him in the stomach.

Gibbs narrowed his eyes but nodded just the same. “All right. Take her home. I’ll see you both in the morning for debriefing.”

***

Tony was unusually quiet on the way home, which was fine since you didn’t really feel like talking. After the third time you caught him looking at you, you turned your attention out the window. It wasn’t until he parked the car that you focused enough to realize he hadn’t taken you to your home at all. You followed the familiar path to his apartment.

“Have a seat,” he instructed once you’d made it inside. He disappeared into the kitchen while you made yourself comfortable on his couch. When he emerged, he held a beer in one hand and a bag of frozen peas wrapped in a towel in the other. He placed the beer on the table beside you and handed you the makeshift icepack. You held it to the side of your face, flinching at the contact.

“Thanks.”

He nodded absently and began to pace the floor. Your gaze followed him for a couple of minutes before you interrupted. “What is it, Tony?”

He turned to you, his eyes wide. His gaze darted down then back up and he licked his lips. He pulled something from his pocket and set it on the table. It took you a moment to realize it was your phone. He rubbed a hand across the back of his neck and pink dusted his cheeks. “I should have given that to you earlier. You probably want to call this boyfriend I knew nothing about. But if you could wait a minute, there’s something I need to say first.”

“Only if you sit. The pacing’s driving me nuts.”

He grinned at that and sat on his coffee table. He was close enough your knees touched. You resisted the urge to press closer. When several minutes passed without him saying anything you spoke up. “Tony—”

“No. I’m sorry. I’m getting to it. I just usually don’t do this sort of thing.”

“Talk?”

“Cute, but no.” He licked his lips again. “Look, I lied to you.”

You frowned as you tried to follow what he was trying to tell you.

He sighed. “When we were talking about this guy and all those canceled dinners and you asked if I was okay. I said yes when that was the furthest thing from the truth. In my defense, I thought I would be okay. I mean, if he makes you happy, that’s what’s important, right?”

He pushed to his feet before you could respond and started pacing the floor again. “But then you had to go and get yourself held hostage. When I saw you with that gun to your head, I knew I’d never be okay again if something happened to you. If I lost you before I ever had a chance to tell you.” He stopped pacing and turned to face you. “I’m crazy about you, Y/N/N. I have been pretty much from the moment Gibbs introduced you to the team.”

You blinked as you tried to process the fact that Tony DiNozzo had just admitted to having feelings. For you.

“Right, well, that’s done. I’ll just go see what I have for dinner.” He fled to the kitchen before you could stop him.

Rather than calling him back, you followed him. You stepped into the doorway to find him leaning on the counter with his back to you and his head bowed. Your heart ached at that thought that he’d apparently been pining after you as much as you had him. “It was you.”

He looked over his shoulder. His brow furrowed as he met your gaze. “What?”

“The guy that I cancelled all the dinners for? That was you.”

He turned to give you his full attention. “That doesn’t make any sense, Y/N/N.”

You shrugged. “Well, see, I would have dinner with you. We’d watch a movie together. Maybe have a few drinks and I could fool my heart into thinking that maybe, just maybe we could have more. Then a few nights later I’d watch you hurry to the elevator so you wouldn’t be late for a date.” You closed the distance between you but didn’t touch him. Not yet. “My heart couldn’t take me playing pretend anymore. It hurt too much. So, I started making excuses.”

“And I was doing the same thing, only I was making dates, hoping someone could make me forget about you.”

“How’d that work out for you, DiNozzo?”

He rested a hand along the uninjured side of your face and ran his thumb across your cheek. “Not great. How about you, Y/L/N? Did you manage to get over me?”

“Not even close.”

His smile was radiant.

“Hey, DiNozzo.”

“Yeah, sweetheart?”

“Kiss me already.”

[moccahobi]

Dancing in the Rain Pt. 1 [Namjoon x Hoseok]

Member: Namjoon (BTS) x Hoseok (BTS)

wc: 1.9k

Summary:  Namjoon lived in a small town. He loved it. It had just enough going on to give him fun when needed and not enough going on that he felt overwhelmed. On top of that, it was only a three hour train ride to Seoul where he met with his publisher and many of his friends lived. It was the best of both worlds. His life gets a bit more interesting when a mysterious bleach blonde with a heart shaped smile enters his life. 

genre: Slice of Life, Strangers to Lovers, Fluff

warnings: lying about one’s name

a/n: this fic is part of @whipped-kpop-creators​ project “a whipped summer” project! I used the prompt “warm summer rain” and heavily relied on their amazing playlist!

Next Part

The rain.

Namjoon loved it. 

He especially loved it in his new area. When it rained, everyone rushed to get to their locations and there was a park nearby that was always void of people when it rained because of that. Normally it is filled with students out of school and friends enjoying picnics, especially during the summer, but when it rains, it’s like everyone hides away and he has the whole park to himself. 

Namjoon walked around the park, slowly looking around at the emptiness. His phone (in a zip-lock bag) awkwardly sticking out of his jacket pocket, a reminder that he had less than an hour to enjoy the warm rain today. He had to get back to his apartment and be chained to his computer in meetings soon, but for now, he was enjoying the rain. 

When he finally got to the park, he slipped his sandals off, making a b-line for the soft grass as he started to meander. The warm rain was a soft, comforting blanket that quieted his mind and in that moment he just was. There wasn’t a meeting in an hour (his alarm would remind him when he needed to return). There weren't any intrusive thoughts. There wasn’t anyone else he had to handle. No parents. No friends. No one. 

It was just Namjoon and the sheets of rain that were coming crashing down.

The park’s animals had hidden away from the rain. Namjoon could just barely see a few of them peek out from holes in trees and under bushes. Part of him wanted to walk closer, tip toe on the sharp mulch, and try to interact with the animals. He knew they’d run away though and Namjoon didn’t want to spend his time chasing after something that would just run away. 

He didn’t care to do that during this special time he had.

Rain was common in this area, it was part of why he moved here, but the warm summer rain that covered him like a blanket was less common and he wanted to savor it. 

His peace was shattered at the loud sound of someone singing further down the path. Part of him seethed at this disruption. The park was peaceful before this and now someone was singing some peppy song and in the distance he could see them dancing as well. Another part of him, and the part that won him over, was curious as to who this person was. Namjoon had lived here for two years now and this person wasn’t someone he recognized and this town wasn’t known for their tourism so this had to be a new person living here. Slowly, Namjoon walked towards them, eyeing them cautiously. They had bleach blonde hair and a wide smile that grew as they kept singing and dancing (it was more of a series and sways and twirls but Namjoon digresses) and Namjoon was struck. 

The rain kept on pouring down but Namjoon was no longer focused on how it felt on his skin, instead his mind was stuck on the man in front of him. He stared on until the stranger stopped singing, their arms wide as if waiting for cheers and applause. 

And Namjoon obliged. 

He didn’t clap because clapping in the rain was hard but he spoke, his voice sounding rough to his own ears, “That was really good. You should think about going professional.” 

He tried to smile but he’d spent so much time brooding and focusing on his writing that the act felt foreign and forced to him. The stranger’s eyes flew open in shock as he eyed Namjoon up and down, his arms slowly falling to his side.

“Thanks. I just might.” His voice sounded smooth and soft as he shyly tucked some wet hair behind his ears.

“I am Kim Namjoon. Are you new to town?”

He nodded and smiled broadly, “I am new. It’s Ju- Kim Taehyung. Yeah… Kim Taehyung.” 

Namjoon nodded along slowly, taking in the baggy and bright clothes Taehyung wore, “Nice to meet you. When did you move in?”

“Uh… last month but I travel a lot so I haven’t had time to really explore…  I really wanted to visit… the local book store but then the rain happened and I just…” He looked around and shrugged, “I couldn’t help myself. The rain is so nice and I don’t get to just enjoy it enough.” 

“Yeah. I love the rain here. No one is out, well almost no one,” Namjoon said with a laugh, “It’s a good time to just walk and be.”

“Oh! Did I disturb you with my song then?” 

Namjoon shook his head and Taehyung’s smile seemed to grow larger, a heart seeming to form from how big his smile was, “Well then, care to dance with me in the rain some?” 

A sadness washed over Namjoon when he finally made it back to his apartment after an hour of dancing with Taehyung. With each sopping step he took deeper into his apartment (at one point stopping to wring some of his clothes out over his plants), he felt a pit of despair growing heavier in him. His legs felt like led and arms slow as he changed and prepared for his meetings. His time with Taehyung today was short. Too short. Dancing in the rain wasn’t what he had intended to do, but the warm rain and his boundless energy fed Namjoon and now all he wanted to do was run back out to Taehyung and continue dancing. 

He had work to do though.

Namjoon could only hope for two possibility:

He comes across Taehyung again in the neighborhood.

Next time it rains, the two meet again. 

Namjoon didn't know which he’d prefer, but in the end, it didn’t matter. He didn’t see Taehyung for a whole month. It was as if the man disappeared off the face of the earth and even though Namjoon didn’t know the man well, he missed him. Plus… he might have felt a little hurt that Taehyung hadn’t gone looking for him after their dance. There wasn’t a time when Namjoon caught a glimpse of bleach blond that he didn’t perk up in excitement. And each time he was more disappointed to have to relearn how bad his eyesight was.

Did Taehyung do the same when he saw a head of black hair? 

Namjoon really hoped so. 

Frustration pooled in his stomach as he left for the train station, a suitcase trailing behind him. It was a crisp morning and he was being forced to go up to Seoul for meetings with his publisher. Normally he enjoyed trips to Seoul (he had previously lived there and it still held a soft spot in his heart), but he wanted more chances to see Taehyung around. He’d just moved in and was bound to be out and about town at some point. 

And Namjoon was going to miss it because his publisher couldn’t hold a few meetings over zoom. 

Hell. Namjoon even suspected that one of them could be an email.

His frustration fermented to disappointment as he looked out the train’s window longly, the town growing smaller all the while. Planning to get together with a friend of his, reading, writing, responding to emails. None of it worked to take his mind off of Taehyung. When the train finally stopped at a station near his hotel, Namjoon was utterly exhausted and dreading all the meetings that were coming. 

The only bright side was that he would be meeting with a friend of his, Seokjin, before he left. 

When he finally entered his hotel room, he took his shoes off, dropped his keys down, and fell onto the bed. He had no energy to do anything at all. All through the walk to the hotel, Namjoon struggled to pay attention to where he was supposed to turn (he barely had the energy to keep an eye and ear out for people near him, let alone his location).

Bless his phone for providing him with the directions that he was mostly able to follow. 

His meetings came and went in a blur despite how painful they were. Almost all of them could have been emails or zoom calls. Just as Namjoon suspected, there was no real need for him to come back to Seoul. All throughout the meetings, his frustration simmered and by the time Seokjin and him met up for dinner, Namjoon was full on venting to the poor man. 

They’d started out catching up but the second Seokjin asked why he’d returned to Seoul, it was like a dam had been released. He hadn’t intended to return. He didn’t want to return. Sure it wasn’t a long trip and he would be back home soon, but he was missing prime time to meet Taehyung again. He wanted to get to know the mysterious blonde who sang in the rain more and his work was proving to be a real hindrance to it!

The more Namjoon delved into his vent, the more occasional laughs left Seokjin before the man was full on cackling. Despite Seokjin laughing like a maniac (or maybe because of it), Namjoon enjoyed his dinner with him. It took him back to when they were both in college and would only meet once in a blue moon due to being at different colleges. The times when they did meet, the two of them would make the best of. From parties to concerts to cooking classes, they always tried to do so much. 

A soft sigh left Namjoon as he watched the waiter walk away with their checks, “Hyung. Is there… like some sort of music event happening tonight? I don’t want tonight to end yet.”

Seokjin snorted at that, “I think that there is something happening in an hour. Yoongi was talking to me about it last night. Let me text him to see if they still have some seats.” 

Yoongi didn’t have seats available though so Namjoon found Seokjin and himself getting some soju and wandering around the streets of Seoul. They mostly just people watched while meandering through streets and occasionally stopped to watch and dance at busker stations (always leaving some sort of tip when they did). Despite not having a concert to attend, they still managed to dance and enjoy good music. 

Drunk Namjoon probably also argued that they had a better time than at a concert where they would have been more crammed in than around a busker. Seokjin simply laughed and listened to his drunken rambles. 

During one busker's performance, Namjoon became hyper focused on an advertisement being shown on a building. It was for some random hair care brand but the brand itself wasn’t what had drawn his focus. It was the man in the ad. 

Sloping nose. 

Soft looking hair.

Heart smile.

Taehyung.

Except… when the ad ended, it didn’t say Taehyung’s name. It said Jung Hoseok. 

Namjoon tried to brush it off and enjoy his night with Seokjin but he kept being distracted by ads that Taehyung… or Hoseok was in. 

Hair care.

Chicken.

Sprite. 

He was in a lot of ads. 

If Seokjin noticed Namjoon getting distracted more, he didn’t comment, instead stopping to get more soju and dragging Namjoon around Seoul more. The next morning, Namjoon was on a train back home, nursing a piercing hangover. In spite of his hangover, Hoseok was practically running around in his mind. The man was more of a mystery to Namjoon than before and a whirlpool of conflicting emotions sloshed angrily around his mind as he tried to think through his next interaction with the man. Nothing should change. Hoseok was still the same man as before just with a different name and Namjoon got why he would lie and give a fake name. A random stranger walking in the rain isn’t inherently the most trustworthy person… but…

Namjoon lost his train of thought.

Next Chapter

[remys-lucky-franc]

Kissing Promts Request - Remy x MC (QOT)

#40 - A gentle kiss that quickly descends into passion, with little regard for what’s going on around them.

Written from MC POV

~1300 words

Again, it’s not totally nsfw, but these kissing prompts are lending themselves to somewhat racier writing than I usually post - so, that was your warning if that’s not your fic preference, folks 💕

[MORE] [[MORE]]

The Poppy’s latest heist has just finished: relieving an undeserving London-based oligarch of his extensive art collection. As Nikolai said when we toasted in celebration last night, ‘it’s been a somewhat protracted endeavour, but all really very satisfying and worthwhile’. It’s taken several months to complete and has been a particularly challenging and tiring escapade, so we’ve all decided that some downtime to rest and recharge before the next heist begins would do us some good.

Remy and I decided to head back to France as soon as we could, to the chocolate-box cottage we bought outside the city dubbed by Remy as ‘Château Chevalier’ - our little love nest: where we escape to when we want to spend some time alone - just us - secluded from the world in our perfect domestic bliss. It’s not as large or grand a space as the moniker suggests, but it fits us so wonderfully: a modern open plan kitchen and living area, a beautiful master bedroom and a smaller one where I can paint, a bathroom, and a small private garden lined by hedges that basks in sunshine most of the day. From the first time we set foot inside, I felt at home and could picture us happy here - croissants for breakfast on the terrace, relaxing on the sofa watching movies, tangled together as moonlight spills through the bedroom windows. Our home; our castle.

Remy’s cooking dinner for us, as has become our little routine in our château. He loves to cook and it’s a joy to watch him. Music plays in the background as I perch at the end of the small breakfast bar with an intoxicating glass of red wine that we only ever have here. We chatter and laugh about the heists gone by, his brother’s new romance, our friends and dozens of other topics as they flit through our minds. Remy glides effortlessly around the kitchen and makes even the most complex of tasks look like child’s play. I observe with admiring eyes: everything my husband does, he does it with flair - from the way he rapidly chops ingredients and tosses them into the pan, to how he decants wine directly from the bottle into our food with never a measurement taken. I offer to help and my assistance is swiftly declined,

“Everything is under control, ma cherie”, he assures me, shooting me that bright signature smile that makes my heart skip every time, “Sit. Relax. Enjoy the wine with your Remy.” Normally, I simply nod, sit back and enjoy the show, but tonight I choose to pout and fix my saddest brown eyes on him - the ones I know that he just can’t say ‘no’ to, “Please? Let me help you?”

Remy opens his mouth to object, but quickly closes it again before silently agreeing with a flourish of his hands. He would do anything to make me happy and I love him for that. I bounce down from the bar stool, wine glass still in hand, beaming at him, “Yey! What do you want me to do?” He passes me a knife and asks me to julienne some veg, so I wash my hands and get to work slicing as I sing along the music. Before too long I have a bundle of matchstick vegetables and can feel Remy’s eyes on me. One arm snakes around my waist, a whisk in the other hand. He appraises the quality and quantity of my veg - satisfied, he rewards me with a sweet kiss on my cheek, making me blush before returning to his saucepan.

My first task successfully completed, I lean back against the cabinets, sip my wine and watch as he tosses ingredients into one of the simmering pans on the stove, “What can I do next?”, I ask him. Remy gestures to the pantry and requests some flour for his roux so I place my glass down, steal a kiss and playfully squeeze his behind as I pass him. A sound of feigned offence follows me into the pantry and makes me giggle.

After a little searching I locate the packet of flour on the top shelf and as I stretch overhead to bring it down I realise the bag isn’t tightly closed. A little plume of white powder sprinkles to the floor and I dance to avoid it’s path: I do reasonably well as it only dusts my hands leaving my black clothing unharmed! Biting back a mischievous little chuckle as an idea pops into my head, I head back into the kitchen and hand Remy the flour packet, before booping his button nose with my other flour-covered hand. Taken by surprise, he splutters and tries to wipe it away before pulling me close to him. I try to wriggle out of his grasp, laughing but fearful of a flour-filled revenge - but he grips me firmly and his green eyes are glittering as his lips meet mine. A kiss, like so many of ours, that begins in a grin - joy-filled and gentle.

“I’m sorry-“ I mumble against his mouth, “I couldn’t resist...”

His hands settle on my sides, thumbs skimming over the waistline of my jeans grazing the bare skin of my hip bones. A series of soft kisses nuzzle my lips peppered with the words, “And I. Can’t. Resist you. Cherie.” I smirk, as I run my fingers through his hair, teasing him, “Hmmm. I am pretty irresistible.”

The lighthearted humour between us evaporates and everything slows down as Remy closes the little space remaining between us. My stomach stirs recognising the growing hunger in his eyes as they lock with mine. There’s a tinge of dark, rich Merlot on his warm breath as my lips yield and I melt into his touch. Within seconds our kiss has deepened, tongues tangle and my hands rake over the expanse of his toned back, shoulders and rear - my pulse racing. We gravitate clumsily back toward the cool granite top and I groan as I make contact; the hard lines of Remy’s body crush against mine while deft fingers burn beneath my shirt roaming over my curves. Remy hoists me up to sit on the counter effortlessly and instinctively my limbs wrap around him drawing him ever closer to me - every kiss more frenetic than the last, every subtle shift of his hips electrifying me. Just two thin layers of clothing between me and all that I ache for, with every touch stoking the flame between us and making my head spin.

As addled by lust as my brain is, I’m vaguely aware that the saucepans on the stove bubble away furiously now neglected - and that dinner is probably ruined. If Remy has noticed he is as far past caring as I am. Kisses sear across my collarbone as I feebly mouth, “Remy... The sauce is burning...”

His teeth drag slowly from the hollow of my throat to my ear and he rasps, “So am I, ma rêveuse,” he breaks away from me momentarily to turn off the stove, grinning wickedly, “and only one of us can be saved.” Helping me down from the countertop our lips collide once more and our passion overtakes; discarded clothing, declarations of love and scandalous intentions litter the path to our bedroom. As we sink into the soft mattress together a little voice far in the back of my head briefly considers that we can perhaps try to salvage our dinner later but I know from the look in my Remy’s eyes that very soon I’ll have forgotten my own name, never mind the ability to think about what state our meal is in. I laugh to myself as I decide ‘there’s always pizza’ - and that’s the last thought in my head before my brain short-circuits and I’m losing myself to something infinitely better and more satisfying.