#wonder if this is cauliflower all over again where I had no idea something was fucked the whole time

[mamamittens]

I've procrastinated too hard lol

Tomorrow I'm passing out immediately when I get home and then a toss up between sitting down and committing to my comm (finally) or knocking out the two zine art pieces when I wake up Saturday morning.

If I'm lucky I'll be able to do the comm and one zine piece Saturday. Then the last one Sunday just before the deadline (;∀;)

Good news is I have the entire next week off for my birthday! So that'll be fun! I'll try not to murder my sleep schedule... No promises. Then I can binge finish Violet and Sword. Maybe finally clean my room properly, washing my sheets and mopping. Get a haircut. Maybe go to the optometrist. I'll have so much time...

And with luck I'll actually use it instead of disassociating my entire vacay away!

[sodamnradd]

“Could I stay with you for a while?”

It’s a terrible idea. The two of them sharing a space again guarantees two things: sex and heartbreak. Followed by unbearable try-hard cordiality as they split off into what they label an 'amicable breakup’.

Only amicable because Draco can never say no to her and Hermione knows it.

She moves in the next morning.

Draco’s flat is spacious. A duplex with soaring picture windows and five spare rooms. Yet somehow Granger is everywhere.

Her books are stacked high on his once fashionably minimal side tables. A stockpile of produce has overthrown all the meat in his refrigerator, ‘cows are friends, not food, Draco’. (Riveting, her new diet.) His wine stash is near depleted. And there are ring stains all over his furniture because she is still incapable of using a coaster.

By day five, Granger has found a permanent place in his bed.

She sounds the same when she orgasms. His name parting her lips like praise. Her skin inconceivably soft when she’s flushed and sated, nestled in his arms.

Eventually, he simply can’t take his hands off her.

A swift kiss on the curve of her neck while she’s brushing her teeth. Seeking her out after an hour or two in another room, realising he hasn’t touched her in a while and he misses her.

Eleven days later, Draco is bleakly aware he's in love again.

Eighth-year love. All touch and teasing and taste and torment.

The sensations come rushing back. Being stubborn and seventeen and utterly obsessed with Hermione Granger. Convinced his heart was shrivelled up, only to learn it just needed someone to beat the life back into it.

Recently, he wonders if he ever stopped loving her.

One evening, over dinner and the last bottle of vintage, he quits ruminating and just asks her. “Remind me why we broke up?”

Her knife grates porcelain, cutting her cauliflower steak into bite-sized pieces. “I moved to Australia, and you had to stay here, tending to your mother and manor.”

She looks up at him, mouth twisting. “We got into an argument.”

“Oh.” He remembers now. “Weasley was going with you.”

“And Harry.”

He shakes his head, refusing to rehash it all. “You told me not to come.”

“Because your mother was unwell, and you had plans to sell your home. You had responsibilities, Draco. Just as I did.”

“Didn’t you know I would have done anything for you?” He drops his fork and knife, his appetite spoiled. “I even agreed to stay friends after you broke my heart.”

“We can’t abstain from one another’s lives,” she insists stubbornly. “It’s impossible for us.”

He sighs as an impending headache blooms at the back of his skull. “Why are you here, Hermione? Couldn’t you have stayed with Potter?”

Beneath the table, he senses a nudge on his ankle. Her skin is starkly cold and the look she gives him is all trouble as she strokes his leg with her foot.

Draco’s disappointment obscures, quickly drowned out by his heartbeat.

“Where did you learn to smirk like that?” Admiration bleeds into his voice.

“I had a Slytherin roommate once.”

“Lucky you.”

“Very,” she agrees, drawing lazy lines over his shin. “He had a way of surprising me.”

“Surprise you how?”

“By making me love him.” She rests her chin on her hands, looking up at him through long smoky lashes. “I loved him even after we broke up, and I love him now.”

“Hermione…” Draco swallows heavily as reality creeps in. “You’re only going to leave again.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.” Now, she looks positively devilish.

“What does that mean?”

“We fell in love like this, sharing a home.”

Something trivial, like hope, passes through his veins. “You’re not really waiting on a new flat, are you?”

She gives him a sheepish look. “Not unless it’s this one.”

He laughs so hard, Crookshanks startles off the counter and lightning-bolts across the room, yowling.

Draco jumps to his feet, drags Granger’s seat back, and scoops her up into his arms. “I get half the bookshelf space.”

“A third, but you can have the larger shoe closet.”

He pretends to deliberate, before sealing the deal with a kiss. “Fine.”

(705 words, prompt: amicable breakup)

[atlafan]

My Everything - Part Six

A Take it Slow Sequel

What happens with Harry and Y/N after he proposes? How will the two navigate the engaged life while also continuing to juggle their jobs, friends, and families? Let’s find out.

Warnings: Fluff and smut.

a/n: not proofread fam, I didn’t have the strength.

Masterpost

“What do you think you’re gonna be for Halloween this year? I hope you step up your costume from last year.” You giggle with Niall at lunch.

“I know, Netflix and Chill wasn’t exactly original. We have somethin’ in mind, but we’re not tellin’ anyone. What about you guys?��

“We’re also keeping it a secret. I’m really excited El’s gonna stay with me while Louis and Harry are in Wisconsin.”

“Yeah, it’ll be good for you guys to get to know each other a bit more. Is it awkward at all that you and Sarah are in her wedding party, but Rachel isn’t?”

“Not really.” You shrug. “Mariah’s taking their photos and Rachel’s actually doing the videography, so she’ll still be there.”

“Oh good! I still can’t believe Harry’s finally gonna see a Packer’s game, he must be so excited.”

“He is! I’m sorry I couldn’t get a third ticket, it would’ve been nice for the three of you to go.”

“Nah, we don’t need to do everything together. It’ll be good for them to have a little trip just the two of ‘em, but I appreciate you thinkin’ of me.”

//

You get home from work, grab the packages waiting for you, and head up.

“Babe! The fabric for our costumes got here, I can start putting it together tonight!” You say as you come in. Buster trots over to greet you. “Hi baby boy, where’s daddy?”

“Daddy’s right here, pumpkin.” He comes over and kisses your cheek.

“Pumpkin?” You giggle. “That’s a new one.”

“I got a little inspired. I bought a couple today for us to carve, thought we could roast the seeds.”

“Oh that sounds like so much fun! We could put them out on the balcony for decoration too.”

“I was thinkin’ the same thing, baby.”

You and Harry eat a quick cauliflower crust pizza for dinner, and you get to work on the costumes. You were so excited to be making them, just like when you were a kid. Once you get a good chunk done, you both sit down to carve your pumpkins.

“What kind of face are you gonna make?” You ask him.

“I don’t really make faces, I like doin’ designs.” He says, concentrating with his sharpie.

“Alright, then what design are you going for?”

“Have you ever seen The Nightmare Before Christmas?”

“Of course I have.” He turns the pumpkin around to show you his sketch.

“It’s the dog.”

“Harry…I didn’t know you could draw.”

“A little here and there.”

“That’s gonna look really cool.” You look down at the triangles you’ve drawn on your own pumpkin. “I guess mine will look pretty sad compared to yours.” You laugh.

“Nah, yours will be a classic.”

You both cut holes in the tops of the pumpkins and take all the guts out. You separate the seeds into a different bowl so you can roast them later. You finish your pumpkin much sooner than Harry’s, so you go in the kitchen to work on the seeds.

“It’s all done, come look, I put some fake candles inside them. They look pretty cool on the balcony.” He says to you as he washes his hands.

“Oh wow!” You gasp. “You’re so talented, babe.”

“Not my best work actually.” He shrugs. “So I’m still comin’ to your office tomorrow to take those pictures?”

“Mhm. Apparently I’ll be in the winter edition of the magazine…I’m really excited! Zach put a really cool video interview together.” You both plop down on the couch while you wait for the pumpkin seeds to finish up in the oven.

“What did you talk about?”

“Why knowing your alumni network is important, why getting involved with clubs on campus is so important, getting out of your comfort zone to make friends, stuff like that. Then I talked about how I fell into the work I did, if it was my dream job, stuff like that. I talked about my hobbies. Even Buster was in the video for a bit. I talked about you too, of course, and how having a supportive partner can make a huge difference.”

“Aw, you didn’t need to mention me.”

“Well, you could see the pictures of us on my desk in the frame, so he just asked quick. I didn’t talk much about my personal life since that wasn’t the point of the interview. I also talked about why checking your benefits when job searching was a really big deal, and how I’m getting my master’s for free.”

“Yeah, that’s one of the reasons why I stayed with Plant Geo for so long, they had great benefits.”

“Speaking of benefits, when we get married did you want to come onto my insurance plan and all that? Or do you wanna keep the state’s?”

“It depends on how cost effective it is. More will be taken out of your paycheck, and it could just end up equaling the same as what I pay now…”

“True, I could talk to someone at HR and they could go over the plans with me. My copay is only like $10, not too bad.”

“Yeah, that’s really good actually. Man, that’s the one thing I miss about home, health insurance and medical bills are way less fucked up.”

“Yup, it’s all just big business here.” You sigh. “At least I work at a company that actually provides what I need.”

“Mhm, like your maternity leave? I still can’t get over that.”

“I think it helps that the CEO is a woman…she gets it, you know?” He hums his response.

“When exactly were you planning to get off the pill?”

“Oh god, I have no idea. We have so much time, I was thinking maybe a year before the wedding? I read that it can take like three months before you have a regular period again if you were irregular before you started the pill, and I was very irregular. Why?”

“Just wondering. I’m trying to mentally prepare myself for havin’ to use condoms all the time.”

“I guess we’ll just have to make sure we’re stocked up. Plus…it’s not like you’ll never be able to stick it in raw, you can, you’ll just need to pull out and come on me.” You shrug.

“You would be way too paranoid.” He laughs.

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we come to it, okay? Not something we even need to think about right now.” You hear the oven go off. “Seeds are done!” You kiss Harry’s forehead and go into the kitchen.

While the two of you were crafting he couldn’t help but think a few years down the line, having a toddler, and carving pumpkins with them. You’d probably put them in a cute costume for trick or treating as well. With how well you took care of him and Buster, Harry knew you were going to be an amazing mum someday. You come back out and sit down.

“Where are the seeds?”

“We can’t eat them yet, we have to wait for them to cool. They’ll burn your mouth.” He throws an arm around you and kisses you. “What?” You giggle.

“Nothin’, just love yeh.”

//

“Hi, Mr. Styles.” Trish beams at Harry when he comes up with his camera equipment.

“Trish, uh, you know you can just call me Harry, right?”

“I do, but you’re here for a professional purpose today. I thought we’d keep things formal.” She gets up and leads him down the hall to your office. “The CEO was thrilled that Y/N was being featured in her college magazine.”

“She was?”

“Oh yes, what a great way to plug Mark It. Maybe more young people will want to work here.”

“Right.”

She knocks on your door and opens it.

“Y/N?”

“Hi, Trish.” You say without looking at her, finishing up an email. It was nearly the end of the day.

“Mr. Styles from Styles Photography is here to see you.” She giggles.

“Ah, okay, send him in, thank you.” You smile and stand up from your desk.

“Did you tell her to be so professional?” He smirks. “They know me around here.”

“I didn’t say a thing.” You go over to him and give him a kiss on the cheek while Buster trots over to say hello to his daddy. “But…” You move to whisper in his ear. “It does create a new fantasy, doesn’t it?” You step back and blush.

“Don’t you start.” He shakes his head. “If I get my wheels turning on that…”

“I could really see it. A hot photographer coming to take my picture, you do that thing where you brush some hair from my face, suddenly we’re making eye contact…”

“Y/N.” Harry says sternly. “Enough.” You fake pout at him while he gets his equipment set up.

“Sorry, didn’t mean to rile you up.”

“M’not.” His face was flushed and his pants were growing tighter.

“Okay.” You scoff. He side eyes you for a moment and then gets back to his things. “So…how do you want me?” You ask in a genuine tone.

“Alright.” He stands up straight and walks over to you. He takes your cheeks between his thumb and index finger. “You’re not bein’ a very good girl right now.”

“I just asked a question.”

“Well, I-“

“Oi!” Niall says walking into your office. “You know the door’s open right?” Harry lets go of you and turns to look at Niall. “Probably shouldn’t be doin’ all that.” He smirks.

“Just gettin’ her how I want her for the pictures.”

“I hope that magazine is gonna give you credit.”

“They will.” You say. “I wouldn’t have let Harry do this if they weren’t going to put his name in. They’re even giving him free ad space at the back of it.”

“Oh, that’s great! Well, I’m headed out for the day. See you tomorrow.”

“Night.” You smile. Him and Harry wave each other off.

“Okay, can we be professional now?”

“Yes, I’m so sorry Mr. Styles of Styles Photography.”

“You’re a little bit goofy at the end of the, huh?”

“Just a little bit.”

Harry gets some good shots of you in your office, and a really nice one of you and Buster. He has you pack up your things, and takes you outside the building to get some nice outdoor shots before the sun sets.

“Thank you so much for coming to do all of this.” You kiss him. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Be ready for me when we get in.” He says, loading his car up.

“Be ready for what?” He walks closer to you and presses you up against your car, his hips pressing into yours. “Oh.” You blush.

“Yeah.” He kisses you and lets you go.

//

When you get home, you get Buster fed and some fresh water before going into your bedroom. You wanted to freshen up for your man. You were just putting on some fresh lace panties when Harry walks in.

“I appreciate the sentiment, but you can just leave those off.” He smirks.

You slide them back down your legs and kick them away as he approaches you. He grabs you by the back of your neck and tilts your chin up.

“What I don’t appreciate is you purposefully trying to get my hard when you’ve told me over and over that you don’t want to fuck in your office.”

“I wasn’t trying to make you hard, I was just playing around.”

“Just playing around, hm.” He nods his head and lets you go. He undoes his pants and sits down on the bed. “How about you play around with this?” He points to his crotch and you get on your knees in front of him. “Wait, let me grab you a pillow, honey.” He reaches behind him and hands it to you.

“Thank you.”

You get his hard cock out of his boxers and lick your lips before licking up and down his length. You suckle on his tip while your hand pumps him slowly. You look up at him, and he’s already looking down at you. It’s intense it makes you groan against him. You sink down further on him, and his hips buck up, trying to fit as much of himself in you as he can. You think of something, and you pop off him.

“Harry, I need you stand up.”

“Wh, why?”

“So it’s easier for you.”

“Easier for me to do what?”

“You know…fuck my face.” You mumble. His eyebrows shoot up, and he doesn’t hesitate to stand.

“You really want me to do this?” His hands cup your cheeks to get a better grip on you.

“Mhm.”

“You’re gonna gag a lot.”

“I’ll work through it.”

“Just tap my legs if it gets to be too much, okay?”

“Okay.”

You grip his hips and open your mouth wide for him. His slides back in and moans softly from how good your mouth feels on him. He thrusts in and out slowly, going a little deeper each time. He had hit the back of your throat before, numerous time, but usually you were the one in control of that. Your eyes start to water as his pace quickens, and you try to focus on just breathing through your nose. When he hears you gag he slows down to give you a second, and then he jumps back in to what he was doing before.

“Fuck, Y/N.” He groans. “I’m gonna come.” He pulls out, and you leave your mouth open. His comes onto your open mouth, neck, and chest. He helps you up before he sits down on the bed. “Jesus, I think I’m light headed.” He chuckles and runs a hand through his hair. He looks at you, and you’re not saying much as you stand there naked in front of him. You had an odd look in your eyes. “Shit, let me go get a rag to clean you up, baby.” He stands back up, kisses your forehead, and rushes into the bathroom. He comes back out with a warm rag and wipes up your chest. “You did really well, took it all down that pretty throat of yours. Felt so good.” He steps back and looks at you. “There, all clean.” You blink at him. “Are you alright?”

You tap your throat and try to speak but it comes out really scratchy and hoarse. You try to clear your throat but it doesn’t help much.

“Lemme get you some water…maybe I was a bit too aggressive.” You grab his wrist. “What?”

You tug at the hem of his shirt, and he gets the idea. You wanted him, the water could wait. He gets you on the bed, and hovers over you. His lips find yours, and he sucks on your bottom lip. He plants gentle, wet kisses down your body, stopping to suck on one of your nipples. He twists your piercing between his teeth, making your head roll back. His hand slides between your legs while he continues to work your breasts. His middle finger runs up and down your slit before entering you. You gasp when he starts to curl it up.

“You’re so wet f’me baby.” He mumbles, switching to suck on your breast. He slides a second finger in and pumps in and out of you.

You grind against his hand, and he lets go of your breast with a pop. He retracts his fingers, and slides them up to your clit. Your mouth falls open and you moan out his name when his tongue enters you. You hear him groan as he moves his tongue in and out of you, and you tug on his hair.

“Harry.” You moan again, throat dry and hoarse.

He head your legs shaking. Your voice cracks as you cry out from your release. He continues to rub your clit as you come down. He grabs your hips and flips you over gently, spreading you apart and entering you. You loved how quickly he could get hard again. His chest was flush with your back as he rocks in and out of you. His hand snakes underneath you to rub your clit and you feel like you just wanted to melt. It still amazed you how much he paid attention to your body. It was never about him getting his, it was about this mutual pleasure that only you two shared.

Everything felt really good, and you were overstimulated.

“Oh my god, don’t stop.” You say in a raspy voice. “Fuck, Harry, that’s so good.” You clutch at your blankets and pillows. He bits down on the back of your shoulder as he feels you come around his cock.

His thrusts get sloppy and quicken, and a few moments later he’s filling you up. He pulls out of you slowly and rests on the bed to look at you. He smooths some hair out of your face and you smile at him.

“My throat really hurts.” You giggle.

“I know, I’m sorry.” He kisses your nose and gets off the bed. He wiggles his boxers up his legs, and watches you walk into the bathroom. “M’gonna get dinner started.” You give him a thumbs up and he leaves you to clean yourself up.

You come into the kitchen in a pair of light sweatpants and a t-shirt. Buster comes over to you and you pat him on the head. You guzzle down a nice glass of water and try to clear your throat. Harry was working on a stir fry.

“Why’d you want me to do that to you, I feel bad…”

“I don’t know.” You cough, and clear your throat again. “Just thought of it. I like when we take turns being more in control of those things.”

“But I hurt you.” He frowns.

“No! It was fine, it was just different. See, I’m all better now.” You smile. “My throat just got dry.”

“Okay.” He kisses the top of your head and puts his attention back to dinner. “Just veggies and rice, that okay?”

“It’s perfect, thank you.”

You sit down at the island and wait for him to finish preparing everything. He makes a plate up for you and he sits down next to you. He tells you about his day at the studio, and how cute some of the little kids in their costumes looked.

“I still can’t believe parents pay to have Halloween cards sent out.” You laugh.

“I choose not to question it. If these rich people wanna pay me for these little things, I’m all for it.”

“Oh, definitely! I think it’s great you’re doing all these little sessions.”

“The Thanksgiving sessions are all booked, and there’s only a few Santa sessions left open.”

“I’m so proud of you.”

“All that social media stuff you do makes such a big difference, that’s why so many people are signing up.”

“It’s nice getting to work together in this capacity.” He stands up and takes both of your plates.

“My sweet girl.” He says as he kisses your head before putting the dishes in the dishwasher. “Wanna watch TV for a bit? I’m beat.”

“Mhm.”

Harry lays down on the sofa and you lay in front of him so he can spoon you. You were nearing the end of the third season of Glee.

“God, the show got so hard to watch after these last few episodes.”

“Why, baby?”

“Just everything with Rachel and Finn, you’ll see.”

You get to the last episode of the third season. You both sit up so you can watch intently. You were sobbing already, and Harry was getting to that point himself.

“Wait…he’s not goin’ with her?!” He looks at you. “I mean, I wasn’t in favor of them gettin’ married right away, but…he’s sendin’ her off to New York alone?”

You couldn’t even speak you were so upset.

“Finn, no, what the fuck?!” He looks at you again. “That’s how they ended it?”

“Yes.”

“And you had to wait an entire summer to know what happened next…Jesus.” He wipes his eyes. “This show is fucked up.”

“You said it.” You wipe your own eyes. “Come on, we need to go to sleep.”

“You can’t be serious, we need to-“

“Harry, it’s already after ten, come on. We can watch more tomorrow.”

“Okay, but only because I wanna cuddle some more.”

//

“Morning, Harry.” Isaac says as Harry walks in.

“Mornin’.” He takes his coffee from him. “Ah, thank you.”

“So your day is going to be interesting.”

“Define interesting…”

“Lot of single moms and their kids…”

“Oh, why is that interesting?”

“Look at the reviews of you on Facebook.” Harry comes around to Isaac’s computer to look. “See, this one says, both Harry and Mariah are extremely professional, I’m very happy with their work.”

“That’s…I’m very confused.”

“Look at all of the comments. Harry was amazing with my son, I can’t wait to bring my kids to see him, I wouldn’t mind him taking my photos…and they sort of escalated from there. You know how wine moms can be. I made it so some of them weren’t visible.”

“These people do know we do any type of portrait, they don’t just need to have their kids involved.”

“You’re missing the point. They’re thirsty for you.”

“Thirsty?” He scoffs.

“I notice them flirting with you from time to time.”

“A lot of people flirt with me.” He shrugs. “I just don’t flirt back.”

Just then a young woman and he toddler walk in. Her daughter was already dressed like Bat Man.

“Woah, looks like the Dark Knight has arrived, Isaac.” The little girl giggles.

“I had hoped she’d want to be a princess, but she insisted on Bat Man.” The mother sighs.

“Nothin’ wrong with that, is there?” He smiles. “I just need a few minutes to get settled and set up. Isaac can get you anything you need.” He turns and goes upstairs to his office.

“So, how’d you hear about us?” Isaac asks.

“Word of mouth. One of the other moms at Janey’s preschool raved about someone named Mariah, but she was all booked up today. Then someone else mentioned Harry might have more open spots since he owns the place.” Isaac nods. “I heard he’s very talented.”

“He is.” Isaac smiles.

Harry comes down shortly and gets his spot set up the way he likes. Mariah was in her office editing photos.

“Okay, Janey, I mean, uh, Bat Man, come on over.”

The little girl runs over to Harry.

“Janey, don’t run! I’m so sorry, she never listen to me.” The woman huffs.

“No worries.” Harry smiles and looks down at the girl. “Is it okay if I lift yeh up and what not?”

“Mhm.”

“Thank you.”

Harry picks her up and puts her on a chair decorated for Halloween. There were pumpkins and other Halloween things around her.

“Smile, Janey. Grandma’s gonna want to see that pretty face.”

“No.” She pouts. “Bat Man doesn’t smile, mumma.”

“She’s right.” Harry says. “But sometimes he does.”

“He does?” Janey asks.

“Oh sure. Right after he gets a bad guy, like when he sends the joker to jail, that makes him really happy.”

“Okay.” She giggles and Harry snaps a shot.

He’s able to get a lot of great shots of her, and wraps everything up. He hands Isaac the SD card from the camera. Lately, Harry had let Isaac touch up these simpler photoshoots.

“Isaac should have these to you in a couple of days with the design you chose.”

“Thank you so much, Harry. I haven’t seen her have so much fun since…well, I won’t bore you with my problems.”

Isaac has to refrain from making a gagging noises. He knew exactly where this was headed.

“You’re a single mum?” Harry asks.

“Mhm, it was all for the best, but she misses her daddy.”

“Yeah, that’s, uh, gotta be tough.” Harry and Isaac make knowing eye contact. “Well, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go give my fiancé a ring before my next appointment. It was nice meeting the both of you.”

Harry slips away and almost runs up to his office.

“Oh, he’s, um, not single?”

“Nope, very taken.” Isaac smiles. “Will that be cash or credit?”

[comingfromastatechampionasshole]

So I'm trying to eat healthier but I have a major hurdle. I can't stand the taste of most vegetables. I'm getting better these days (peppers, onions, peas, spinach) but basics like carrots, broccoli, and cauliflower are a problem. Any preparation suggestions to make these or other veggies more palatable?

Okay, trying to take a deep, calming breath, and answer this again after losing all the work I put into this ask, so if I am a little short in my answers, unfortunately it’s because I’m doing all the work over again and am frustrated. 

Now, above all else, my answer is *shrug*. It is a pillar of my own happiness and health that I do not try to modify picky eaters, but simply to avoid them. This isn’t a personal slight on you, it’s just that I’ve spend plenty of time on the tumbles giving advice to people about a dozen things, as a healthy and reasonably well adjusted human being who gets asked for it, only to be told “I CAN’T because..” or “I have an AVERSion to..” and I just do not care anymore. 

So, before I get into this, anyone reading this: Take the advice or leave it. Be picky. I literally do not care. I was asked, I am supplying an answer. What you do with your life is your own, you don’t need to explain things to me. Go in peace. 

OKAY! People have this idea that I was somehow sprung fully-formed from the mind of culinary adventure itself, but that isn’t true. While my other was a more than competent cook, and it’s true that my family was poor enough that what was served was what dinner I got to have, my father was intensely boring and so I really did eat much outside of extremely basic meat and potatoes fare. When I was 17, I took it upon myself to be an interesting person, and I loved cooking, so I funneled my energy into having an expansive palate and repertoire. I had never eaten a brussels sprout, a beet, jicama. 

Now, the only things I don’t eat are for religious reasons. So anyone can do it. 

First things first: You don’t have to like everything you put into your mouth, and the sooner you get on board with that idea, the easier it’ll be. 

They say you need to introduce a food ten times before a toddler will even be reasonable about something new, and this increases more and more as someone gets older. Exposure therapy is definitely a thing! I would set aside one day a week when you are adventurous. Where you take on things you like less (also, stop telling yourself it’ll be horrible) 

Mixing in is a great way to get used to stuff! Take something you don’t like and mix it into something you do. Put broccoli into chicken pot pie! Half and half mashed cauliflower and mashed potatoes! Peas and carrots are a classic combo! The more you have it, the less terrible it’ll be. You may never LIKE it (I still do not care for green beans) but you may be able to eat it, which is enough. Not every bite of food has to be tenderly kissed by the gods. Sometimes, you can eat for health. 

Second things second: You have to prepare shit better! 

I have no idea why so many American parents boiled and steamed all the vegetables, but I do know that it is probably one of the worst ways to prepare them. It makes them mushy and it sours the flavor and I mean I suppose it makes them literally hot but at what cost? Steaming CAN be good, but honestly steaming a vegetable takes a better sense of timing than one would assume. 

By all-purpose recommendation is always roasting. Roasting brings out the natural sugars, and caramelizes the edges for delightful textures. Obviously I can’t give you a timetable for every single vegetable, but it’s very easy to find online. Some olive oil, some salt and pepper, and boom, in the oven and amazing. 

Sauteing and grilling are great too! Pop some butter in a medium-high skillet and swirl those puppies until tender. Brush on some olive oil and give great grill marks. 

Third things third: For the love of god, season your vegetables. 

It is the strangest thing to me that people utterly ignore the role of seasoning in pleasure. People completely fail to season their salads and then wonder why they are not good. Are you the same people who don’t season chicken? Inquiring minds want to know! 

I know I am constantly shoving Penzey’s down your throat, but I have no intention of stopping now. This is the best, easiest way to season a salad: 

It is also good on sandwiches, as you might imagine, but I don’t often have people writing in to me asking “How can I eat meat and cheese on bread that I never in my life have any intention of putting vegetables on and in fact will pick them off if they come on my sandwich?” Anyway, i cannot speak highly enough of this stuff, and of making a good salad in general! I have a recipe for homemade croutons on here, add some dried cranberries or fresh strawberries, slice up veggies, don’t just throw lettuce a bowl and expect it to be good. 

There are loads of other seasonings as well! Try dill and thyme and basil, see how you feel about different penzey’s mixes like revolution or justice, I often like some of the things McCormick has--they’re not for just meat! But you have to make seasoning and tasing a major part of your vegetable cooking experience. 

Try sauces! And not just cheese sauce, but better ones. Equal parts mustard, soy sauce, olive oil, and minced garlic makes a great sauce for green vegetables. Greek yogurt with mint and garlic makes an amazing sauce for squash and such. It’s a quick way to perk up a vegetable, and there are LOADS of recipes on the internet. 

That’s basically what I’ve got offhand! Good luck in being a better eater!

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Twitter ー Yuma Mukami [2017 Compilation]

–> This post includes all tweets posted on the official Rejet Twitter account for Yuma Mukami (@DiaLoverYumaM) in 2017.

Shuu l Reiji l Ayato l Kanato l Laito l Subaru l Ruki l Kou l Azusa l Carla l Shin l Kino

January 4, 2017

> Ruki gave me a brush and told me to write something if I have the time

> What should I write down?

> 「Healthy vegetables」

> Will this do?

January 20, 2017

> Kou’s at a TV recording? And he received some money so we’re gonna go eat sushi

> Ruki said a regular, non-conveyor belt sushi bar is too expensive so he turned down that idea

> I don’t really care where we go as long as I get to stuff my face

January 23, 2017

> It’s almost time to harvest the cauliflowers

> I’ll have Ruki make something with them afterwards

> Every day, I have to keep an eye on the field myself

February 10, 2017

> That Ayato guy disappeared

> Now I just have to make sure Kou doesn’t force these weird ears on me

> Yuma-kun’s account has been overtaken by kitty Kou-kun, nyan! (=^･ω･^=) 

> Oi, Mesubuta! Kneel in front of me right nyow~!!  (=^･ω･^=) 

> Goddamnit Kou, he stole my smartphone

> Next time I’m gonna use his phone without his knowing

> Today I’m tired though so I’ll leave that for some other time

February 14, 2017

> Kou suddenly called me over, what does he want?

> He wants me to take the trolley I use on the field to his agency or something...

> What kind of work is he doing?

February 16, 2017

> I just finished eating my meal with Ruki and the others

> We talked about that guy for the first time in a while

> The guy who gave us a purpose in life

--> He uses the term 一人前 or ‘ichininmae’, which is used in Japan to refer to someone who has become a proper member of society, fulfilling the tasks that are expected of them

> Because of him, we are here today

> However, how we’ll live from here on out, depends on us

March 3, 2017

> Haah? (@Ruki)

> Ruki’s only involving me because he doesn’t want to be the only one doing something embarrassing.

> Oi, Mesubuta. Come to my room tonight. I’ll take good care of you.

> Happy now!?

> In that case, you do it too, Azusa (@Azusa)

March 14, 2017

> I’m gonna eat the cookies I got from Azusa

> Don’t just casually talk to me, you sow

--> Kanato fed everyone cake which had been mixed in with a weird potion, bringing out their sadistic side.

> All you need to do is let me suck your blood

> Hey, kneel down on the ground and beg me to suck your blood

April 17, 2017

> No wonder Ruki just wasn’t coming home, he’s been helping out at the Sakamaki’s Takoyaki booth

> Is he competing with Reiji? He’s getting really passionate about it

> Things will become troublesome if I get recognized, so I’ll pretend to be someone else

April 26, 2017

> Fuck! Ruki did it again!

> I told him the spring cabbage gets harvest tomorrow and the tomatoes need a little more time!

> Should I put a trap not only for the birds, but for Ruki as well...?

May 23, 2017

> Ruki’s sighing

> You belong only to me. Are you happy? Let me treasure you. #LoveLetterDay

> My precious Sugar-chan #LoveLetterDay

> Now Ruki’s the only one who hasn’t done this

> Don’t think you alone will be let off the hook

June 16, 2017

> Kou is being persistent so I’ll give you my answer

> Working on the field comes first. Furthermore, I’ll have them cook with the vegetables I’ve grown

> That’s about it

July 14, 2017

> Us brothers came to play at the pool

> The water slide in particular was exhilarating

July 26, 2017

> I logged into this game ⇒★CHAOS FANTASY★ The first 10 successive games are for free! You too should embark on your adventure with kei-fans!

> I successfully logged in

> I get ‘game over’ straight away

> Boring

August 17, 2017

> I took a dip in the water fountain

> Music’s surprisingly nice, huh?

> Guess I’ll buy one of the towels with the festival’s logo on it

September 6, 2017

> Azusa already mentioned it, but today us younger brothers are gonna take over Ruki’s tasks

> We forced Ruki out of the house. If he stays here, he’ll find some way to help out regardless

> For starters, I’ll clean the storage room we haven’t been using

November 16, 2017

> I finished making the support banners

> Now I just have to hang it somewhere high up. These kind of things have to stand out, right?

> Ohー Good job (@Kou)

December 25, 2017

>  There was an open space in the field, so I ploughed the ground a little

> Now I just have to sprinkle some fertilizer and it’ll become great soil

> That being said, what’s up with this scarf Azusa brought me earlier?

[awful-roffle-archive]

Meteors dot txt

A/N: this definitely got to a point i just took the characters and setting and did my own story with it but uh. its fine. no idea if i’ll ever come back to this but?? im running out of writing spoons rn so! you get this as is with its really choppy ending :^) nothing’s been proof read by someone else but i tried my best so uh. enjoy lmao

word count: 3,420

"Today's broadcast reports there will be a meteor shower raining over Pelican Town this evening! Make sure to take an umbrella with you! Hehe." The meteorologist quips before the broadcast goes back to the news about the latest about the Gotoro Empire. Rayzan sighs and shuts the TV off, sipping at his coffee.

"What's so important about some damn meteor shower? It's... what, space rocks? Big whoop." He mutters to himself, shoving a rather... strange (to put it lightly) tasting cheese cauliflower into his mouth. It's what he gets from buying food from Joja - hopefully he wouldn't start glowing or something as a side effect. With a grunt he pushes himself off of the floor, throwing the plastic container to the side. He'd clean it up later. Probably.

He jumps as there's a rapping on the janky screen door, and he instinctively grabs his gun from behind a potted plant. Pulling the door open, he aims it directly between the other's eyes.

"What the fuck do you want." His tone is harsh and cold, and he never breaks eye contact with her.

"Oh!" Maru stumbles backwards on the porch, holding her hands up. "I'm sorry! I just- uh-" She falters over her words, clearly taken aback.

"Spit it out."

"Can you put down the gun? Please?" Maru chooses her words carefully, keeping her hands in the air.

"I thought I made it perfectly fucking clear I didn't want anyone bothering me." He moves the gun downward, but his gaze still seems to burn through her.

"Well, yes, but..."

"But you wanted to anyways, right? You decided your high-fucking-horse is more important than my privacy."

There's a long pause before Maru says anything. She just stands there, gawking at him. "I just wanted to tell you about the meteor shower tonight. Everyone's going to be gathered at the beach, if you wanted to come." She speaks simply before turning around and stepping off the porch. "Yeah. I'm aware." He slams the door, the screens rattling as he locks it. "Yoba damn everyone in this fucking town." He grumbles and hides the gun once more.

Grabbing whatever clothes he could find from his dresser, he stares at himself in the mirror. So much for keeping up appearances, huh? He takes a deep breath and runs some hair gel through his hair, a toothbrush hanging out of his mouth. He gags and spits into a bucket of lake water. His plumbing hadn't worked for, well, what felt like months now and he wasn't about to go ask Mrs. 'Oh how are you? Where are you from? How is the farm? Do you have any family?' Robin for help any time soon.

Pulling a shirt over his head he makes his way outside, staring at his rather sad attempt at a garden. He was supposed to be a farmer and he couldn't even keep a few peppers alive, let alone an entire farm's worth. Deciding to water the crops, despite them being... well, very dead, he tosses his farming tools aside and heads into town.

---

The walk always felt long and tedious. He had looked into getting a car before, but the walk to even GET to a dealership was way out of the question, and with the only bus in town out of commission, he was pretty much stuck in town and on foot. The sun beat down on him endlessly, almost taunting him for daring to move during the summer.

As soon as he reaches town he instantly heads for Joja. The saloon wouldn't be open for another few hours, and he sure as hell wasn't going to sit in Pierre's and listen to his badgering about how the farm was doing. Instantly being hit with the a/c of Jojamart he takes a deep breath, wiping the sweat from his brow.

"Quite the walk, isn't it? You should take a sip of the latest JojaCola flavor! NuBerry - a delicious combination of raspberry and cranberry thrown together by our team of talented scientists! Joja is not liable for any injuries or side effects that may occur while drinking NuBerry. NuBerry - Fresh and full of smiles!" Morris spews off like a recorded advertisement, making Rayzan roll his eyes. He instead heads back towards the freezers, holding it open and just soaking in the cold as he sinks to the floor.

“Probably shouldn't stand there with it open like that.” A voice comes up from behind him, leaning over his shoulder.

“You and I both know you don't care about their electric bills.” Rayzan smirks as he looks up to see Shane leaning over him. “Unless you've suddenly had a change of heart?” He puts a hand to his heart, leaning back.

“Nah. Last I heard there was some freezer monster back there. Snatches up kids that don't know better.” Shane quips and stands up straighter. “Besides, I gotta put these in there.” He motions to a palette of frozen pizza boxes.

“Mind if I nab one of those to go?”

“Hey, if you can get it past Morris be my guest.” Shane pauses, “But if you get caught I didn't see shit.” He grins before going back to restocking the freezer.

“You underestimate me greatly.” Rayzan snatches a box off of the pile, waiting until Morris was busy doing who-knows-what until stealthily stepping out the door with it.

“Oi, watch it kid.” Pam exclaims as Rayzan runs directly into her, almost dropping his box.

“Whatever.” Rayzan grumbles and rushes past her, wondering where the hell he could keep this for the time being. There was no way he was walking all the way back home for just this. Looking around he exhales before checking his watch. 10:04 am. Fuck. What was he supposed to do for at least another two hours before the saloon opened?

He could go to the mines... but that didn't solve his pizza dilemma. He groans before staring down at the river. Maybe... No, that would make it soggy. Shit. He settles on hiding it behind a rock in the shade – at least it would stay cool there. Wiping his hands off he heads past Pierre's, only to get stopped on his way.

“Hey, Rayzan! How is the farm coming along? You know, if you need anything we-”

“Yeah, yeah. You sell seeds and shit. I'm thoroughly aware. It's the only fucking shit you sell.” Rayzan interrupts her, turning back around with his arms crossed.

“Well... Pierre and I have discussed expanding our stock recently. If you have anything you'd like to see feel free to let us know!” Caroline smiles, holding up a small basket of tomatoes. “These are freshly grown from our garden, they're rather fresh, too. We were thinking about selling these, would you like to try one?”

“...I'll pass.” Rayzan rolls his eyes, continuing up the path.

“Oh, well, I'll see you later at the meteor shower then!”

“Doubt it.” He picks up his pace, running up towards the mountains. The air always feels crisper up here, fresher. He takes a moment to breathe as he reaches Robin's house, then immediately ducks by it. There was no way he was sticking around for more pleasant conversations with the townsfolk. ESPECIALLY Robin.

---

As he ducks into the mine, Marlon looks over at him and just laughs. “What, are you planning on starting an earth quake and almost killing yourself again? Didn't have enough last time?”

“Shut up. I didn't even bring my gun this time.”

“You didn't bring your sword, either. Or a pickaxe... What exactly are you planning on doing down there?” Marlon points out, nodding towards him. “May be half-blind but even I can see that's not a good idea.”

Rayzan takes a moment to look over himself, realizing he didn't actually bring any tools. “...Fuck.” He sighs in exasperation as Marlon laughs at him.

“Get out of here kid. I'm not in the mood to rescue you again.”

“Shut up.” Rayzan repeats himself, leaving the cave with a roll of his eyes. He heads past Linus' tent with a nod of his head, shoving his hands into his pockets before heading up towards the train station. Oh how he wished he could hop on the train and get the hell out of here. Instead he pushes the door open to the spa, heading for the locker room. With any luck no one else would be there.

Unfortunately, this wasn't his lucky day. Alex sits up from the weight bench as he waves at him.

“Hey man, didn't think I'd see you up here again.” Alex grins. “That offer to spot you is still open. You know, so you don't drop your weight on your foot again. How's that doing, by the way?”

“It's fine.” Rayzan says simply, yanking at his locker door.

“You gotta pull it up first.” Alex speaks up after a few moments of Rayzan fighting with the locker.

“...I knew that.” Rayzan responds, moving the handle up before pulling it open properly.

“Oh! Uh, are you going to that... that shower tonight? Haley's dragging me along. Don't know, might be pretty cool.”

“Wasn't really planning on it. Everyone keeps asking me about it.” He grumbles and grabs a towel, heading for the showers.

“Well, it's just, basically everyone in town goes to these things. It's kind of a big deal, these festivals and all.”

“Yeah, I got that. Now, do you mind? I'm sweaty and I'm not going to wash myself off at home with lake water.”

“You don't have a shower?”

“No.”

“Why don't you-”

“I'm not asking anyone to fix my shit.” With that, Rayzan pulls the curtain to the shower shut and tosses his things down. What's with everyone in this town being so damn talkative?

---

He spends the next several hours in the pool, ignoring Penny and Alex talking about who knows what. His day is rather quiet after that, deciding to head to his usual place in the saloon – where, yes, he does get Gus to put his pizza in the freezer for him for the time being. He ends up falling asleep in one of the booths, nursing his glass of beer. He's only awaken by Shane poking him in the side.

“Wha-? Ah... Mm..” Rayzan murmurs, stretching his arms out. “Thought you'd have more courtesy than to wake a sleeping man.” He grumbles drowsily.

“Didn't want to, but otherwise it'd be Gus and I figured you didn't want that. He's locking up here to go see the meteor shower thing. Jas wanted me to go with her.” He doesn't sound very enthused about it either. “Want to go keep me company?”

“Ugh.”

“Yeah. I know.” He frowns, but steps aside as Rayzan gets up.

“Guess so.” He sighs, then looks over at Gus by the door. “Can I get my pizza after? So I'm not holding it the whole time?”

“Of course! I'll leave the door unlocked for ya.” Gus beams before heading outside, Shane and Rayzan soon following after.

“So did Morris say anything about the missing stock?” Rayzan glances over, stuffing his hands into his pockets.

“Hah, no not really. Don't think he even noticed you leaving. Lillian didn't either, or at least she didn't mention it.” Shane ponders as they walk the rest of the way in silence.

---

They pick a spot that's far enough away from everyone else to not be bothered, but close enough that Jas wouldn't complain to Marnie that Shane didn't show up.

“You ever seen one of these things?” Rayzan speaks up after awhile, looking up at Shane.

“Nah, I'm not really... into space stuff. There's enough to worry about on this planet, you know? Never mind worrying about whatever the hell aliens out there are getting up to.”

“Agreed.” Rayzan nods, pushing his hair up out of his face before staring up at the sky as the meteors begin raining by. Everyone is quiet other than the “oohs” and “ahhs” and other noises spoken in awe of the event. As Rayzan looks around he sees people making various wishes, Robin and Demetrius kissing, and Vincent and Jas playing astronauts off to the side. A faint smile grows on his face as he leans back, letting the sand seep between his fingers. This was nice, despite his many protests against it.

Eventually, the shower ended and the crowd started dying down as everyone went home. Shane said his goodbyes as he carried a very sleepy Jas off, and Rayzan was left alone. Rayzan sat there for a few more minutes listening to the ocean. Everything was peaceful, until a loud crash roars through the beach. The sound shakes through the town, and Rayzan jumps from his spot.

“The f-?” He suddenly wishes he had literally any weapon on him. He hesitantly makes his way over to the right hand side of the beach, staring at the smoldering pit among what used to be small tide pools. “Uh.” He mutters to himself, looking back towards Elliott's hut. No reaction. Was he already asleep? How did he NOT hear that? He shakes his head and grabs a stray stick from by the trees, poking at the object in the middle of the pit with it.

“Uh...” Rayzan repeats to himself, looking down at his hands. If he did end up burning himself Harvey wasn't asleep just yet, right? He'd probably be fine. He cautiously picks up the object, finding it to be - surprisingly - not as hot as he thought. It was fairly large, having to be held with two hands, and seemed to be glowing a soft blue aura. It's exterior was rather dark, with dull white spikes protruding out the sides. Although he tried to pull it apart it was no use – whatever it was, it was rather sturdy.

“Damn you're heavy.” Rayzan mutters as he stares at the egg-shaped object in his hands. He looks up, pondering to himself about what to do with this thing. He begins heading back up towards town, only to be interrupted by Maru.

“Oh my yoba – I could hear that crash from across TOWN! To think something actually hit the ground! And you're holding it!” Maru begins rambling off, clapping her hands together. “Can I see it? That doesn't look like any meteor I've ever heard of, but of course space is really vast and there could be plenty of different-”

“Whoa, whoa. Listen, if you want this thing take it. I don't know what to do with it.” Rayzan begins trying to hand it off, only for it to stab him in the arm. “What the fuck?”

“Oh- Oh dear, are you okay?” Maru widens her eyes, frantically trying to grab it again – only for the object to protest yet again.  Rayzan grunts in pain, nodding.

“Maybe we should... not. Do that.” He hisses as he carefully sets it down – thankfully it lets him do that – before rubbing at his wrists. “Fuck, what is that thing?”

“Well, I'm not entirely sure... It seems at least somewhat sentient though, don't you think? Exciting!” Maru grins before turning her attention back to him. “...Right, we should get you to the clinic.” She reaches down to pick it up off the floor, only for it to spray some form of mist into the air. “AH!” She exclaims as she stumbles back, holding a hand over her face. “Okay! You pick it up!”

“I'm not touching that thing again!”

“We have to at least move it somewhere no one else can get hurt.” Maru insists, rubbing at her eyes.  Rayzan grunts and picks up the foreign object, carrying it in his arms as he follows her to the clinic.

Harvey looks up from his paperwork as the door opens, raising an eyebrow. “I thought I locked... Oh, Maru, hello- Are you okay? What is- Rayzan are you bleeding?” He gets up frantically, moving around the counter.

“I'm fine, he might need stitches. Don't... touch that thing.” Maru aggressively points to the object. “I need to go wash out my eyes.” She motions vaguely in the air before walking off. Harvey blinks a few times before looking back towards Rayzan as he sets the object in a waiting room chair.

“Alright... well, let's get you sorted. I'll... call Gunther and let him know about this also.” Harvey furrows his brow, walking Rayzan back towards the examination room. “What happened, exactly?”

“I don't know. That thing fucking... Grabbed me when I tried to give it to Maru.” Rayzan hisses in pain as Harvey looks over his wounds.

“These look pretty deep – did it get you anywhere else?”

“Not that I can tell.” He shakes his head as Harvey frowns. “I feel kind of... sick, though.”

“Hopefully that's just from blood loss and it didn't inject you with anything.” Harvey notes before gathering everything necessary.

---

Rayzan wakes up in one of the hospital beds in the morning and groans as he sits up. “...So that wasn't a dream. Fuck.” He looks down at his bandaged arms with a frown. Harvey comes in with a smile, holding a clipboard close to his chest.

“Well, good news, you aren't going to die.” Harvey smiles before continuing, “You ended up passing out last night so I set you up here. As far as I could tell, there's nothing lethal in your blood stream either. Maru and Gunther are in the waiting room discussing the...” Harvey trails off for a moment, “Well, if you'd like to talk to them, you're free to. Be sure to keep those bandaged though, alright? And I wouldn't advise any excessive movement... If you need any pain killers, let me know.”

Rayzan nods, pushing himself out of the bed. “Yeah, thanks doc.” He mutters and heads into the waiting room.

“Oh! Mr. Rayzan, it's always a pleasure to see you. This is certainly an interesting specimen you've found here!” Gunther smiles as he stands up straighter.

“Yeah, and it tried to fucking kill me. Can't you take the yoba damn thing to the museum or something where I don't have to look at it?” He glares at it, crossing his arms over his chest before wincing and simply putting them down by his sides.

“Ah... I was looking into that, actually. It seems it's imprinted on you somehow and is rather territorial about it.”

“It's done what? I'm not a damn mother duck or something! If that shit turns out to be an alien I'm not taking care of it.” Rayzan protests angrily, leaning against the counter.

“If it would let me I'd take it off your hands after it hatches or... whatever it's going to do, but until then no one can touch it.” Maru frowns as she looks over at him. “I guess you could just drop it off somewhere, but there's no guarantee it still won't try to find you once it hatches...” There's a pause. “Though I'm absolutely open for helping you out with it as much as I can! Maybe we can be co-parents of it!” She laughs, though it doesn't last long as she sees Rayzan's expression. She clears her throat as she looks away. “Up to you, of course.”

“I'm probably just gonna drop the thing in the river or something. Maybe it'll float off to wherever. Or better yet, drown.”

“Mr. Rayzan, sir, if I may interrupt, I don't think that's such a good idea.” Gunther speaks up. “We don't know anything about this creature – it could be invasive to the local environment. It's better to keep it close so we can learn more about it.”

“Then you take it!” Rayzan picks up a wooden crate, then sets the object inside of it. “There. Yours now. Have fun with your murder egg.” He shoves the box into Gunther's arms and storms towards the door.

“Rayzan!” Maru shouts, but frowns as she turns back towards Gunther. “I think we're on our own here.”

Gunther nods, “It seems so...” He looks down at the object, then nods towards her. “I'll take this over to the museum for now and try to figure out what it likes... Perhaps find a sun lamp.”

Rayzan rolls his eyes as he slams the door behind him. He heads towards the saloon, grabbing his frozen pizza out of the freezer before making the journey home. He'd be glad to sleep in his own bed again.

[hookedontaronfics]

Honky Dancer series - Chapter 7

Chapter title: Secrets and sorrows Read the previous installments here: Chapter 1 | Chapter 2 | Chapter 3  | Chapter 4 | Chapter 5 | Chapter 6 Rating: M Pairing: Taron x OC Warnings: None A/N: This chapter tore the hell out of my emotions, and I actually expect it to do much the same to you. I’d apologize for that but I know you’ll all stick with me to the end, because the story has a long way to go to get to that happy ending you all want so much! Enjoy! X

The next three weeks were some of the best weeks of my life. Being Taron’s girlfriend, being loved by him, was an exceptional experience. Despite both of us being incredibly busy and in the thick of filming, he never let a day go by where he didn’t remind me in some way that I was loved and that I was his. I’d never had a relationship that had felt so genuinely real and sweet and supportive, and it made a difference in how I felt about my own life to that point.

One of my favorite moments had been the evening I was making dinner, some kind of cauliflower pasta recipe Taron had agreed to be the guinea pig for. He and Clara were seated at the dining table, going over her fractions homework. Clara’s frustration at not understanding the problems was palpable, but I just remember how patient and calm Taron remained until that look of understanding dawned on my daughter’s face. They’d both looked up at me, leaning in the kitchen doorway, with the sweetest looks on their faces.

Their bond was growing every day, made even stronger when, unbeknownst to me, a special delivery had been made of a Steinway upright studio piano so Clara could continue her lessons at home. I will never forget the look on her face when she realized it really was hers and it would be staying in my front room. Taron rebuffed every “you shouldn’t have” I tried to give him, telling me he knew first-hand how important it was to be supported in the pursuit of your art. I couldn’t deny him that, because I knew it to be true as well. Still, a few internet searches later made me gasp at how much he had spent on us; I knew I could never repay him.

But that was just the thing; he didn’t want or need repayment. He did things for people out of the kindness of his heart; he never expected someone to give him a favor back. He was generous to a fault, and whether he knew how much money he was worth or not, he never affected an attitude that he was affluent. He remained the working class boy he’d spent his childhood growing up as, the boy who needed financial help from his family just to audition for RADA. And I think I loved him even more for that.

Trying to pin Markus down, though, that was a whole other story. I knew I needed to tell him we were definitely done, but every time I tried to make plans to grab a coffee he had something else come up. We were dancing every day, learning choreography for both “Saturday Night’s Alright” and “Bitch Is Back,” and my body hurt in every way it was possible to hurt. Both of those pieces were massive, and when they secured set locations we would have to be ready to go. 

I’m pretty sure I spent more time at Rocketman rehearsals those few weeks than I did teaching my own classes, but I was beginning to wonder if Markus was blowing me off because he already suspected what I needed to tell him. I had finally decided to just grab him after rehearsal that day and make it final, and the stress and anxiety of it made me feel slightly queasy.

We had just finished rehearsal and Leah immediately came up to me before I could pull Markus aside. “Are you okay?” she asked me, and I shrugged.

“Of course. I mean, I’m with Taron now anyway,” I said, watching Markus flirt a bit shamelessly with another dancer, and she was all-too-happy to be receiving his attention. I’m not really sure how someone could manage to make a leotard look slutty, but she certainly got an A for the effort.

“Markus can be a dick, forget that. What I mean is that you’re really pale but your cheeks are also really flushed,” Leah said, staring at my face.

“Oh, that, I don’t feel great, no,” I shook my head. “I’m kind of nauseous, but hey, I’m here. The show must go on,” I said, giving her a faint smile.

“Or it really doesn’t if you’re really sick, Juliette,” she said. “Maybe you should sit down for a moment.”

“I just need to deal with Markus and get home and take a nice long soak and get some sleep. I’ll be fine,” I said, giving her a tight smile even though I was fighting the urge to lose my lunch at that moment. “See you tomorrow?” I said, and she nodded, still looking concerned. But when I turned away from her to find Markus, he had already disappeared, and I was in no state to try and chase him down.

I changed into my sneaks and gathered up my bag and, as I was leaving, had to make a detour into the bathroom to puke after all. I hadn’t had much to eat that day anyway, so it was mostly orange Gatorade and bile and I felt worse for throwing up, since it was now burning in my throat and sinuses.

“Ugh, fuck,” I groaned as I left the stall, trying to wipe the clammy sweat off my forehead. The truth was that I was waking up most mornings feeling a little ill and sometimes it lasted long into the day. I was beginning to think I needed to go to the doctor, but it seemed to come and go at random. I imagined it was likely just stress from everything going on, but it would probably be wise to see the doctor anyway. I washed up, splashing water on my face, and smiled as I scrolled through my texts. Taron never failed to make me feel better no matter what.

I left the bathroom and passed Riley and her posse hanging out in the hallway, ignoring their stares and the whispered comments on how I must be bulimic because that’s why I was always running to the bathroom during rehearsals and why I stayed so skinny. I had no idea what they were talking about, and ignoring them was always the safest bet, but their bullying still got under my skin some days. I wished I could turn to them and tell them off, but that probably wouldn’t satisfy anything or make me feel better.

The subway ride to my mother’s to pick up Clara, and subsequently home, made me feel even more queasy, and I lost my appetite for dinner for the rest of the evening. After I helped Clara with her homework, her piano lessons, and made her food, I ended up just laying in front of the telly, exhausted and lacking any energy, for the rest of the evening. It wasn’t the most inspiring end to the day, and just as I was crawling into bed, Taron called me. 

“Hey love!” he replied when I answered the phone, probably sounding as sleepy as I felt.

“Hey T,” I groaned, rolling over slightly in my bed, all of my muscles protesting.

“Everything alright?” he asked, the excitement draining from his voice slightly.

“I just feel miserable, honestly,” I said softly. “I think I might go to the doctor tomorrow.”

“Oh, babe, you should have called me over. I’d bring you the best soup my mam made to make me feel better,” he said sweetly.

“I just need sleep. And probably strong drugs,” I mumbled into the phone.

“Do you want me to go with you tomorrow to the clinic?” he asked, and I shook my head before realizing he couldn’t see that.

“I’ll not have you cancel on your film scenes to go wait in a clinic lobby. I’m sure it’s just some kind of bug. I’ll be fine,” I insisted, and I could hear him pacing on the other end, the way he did when he was anxious about something.

“Alright, but if you need me, you know I’ll be there, right?” he said quietly.

“Of course, babe. I know that. With my whole heart, I know that,” I smiled softly. We chatted a bit more but I couldn’t hardly keep my eyes open, and soon we ended our call and I passed out.

I actually felt better in the morning, enough to keep some dry toast down, and after seeing Clara off to school, I managed to teach my first two classes of the day before taking my lunch break to go to the clinic. My stomach had started to churn again, and I was ready to just be over this stomach bug. I got checked in and had to groan at the long wait time, having to text the Rocketman choreographer that I’d be running late to rehearsals but he only told me to take care of myself and he’d see me later, and to let him know if that somehow changed.

I was a nervous wreck by the time my name was called, and after having my vitals checked (and frowning over the fact that I’d gained 10 pounds despite my diet restrictions) and explaining my symptoms to the nurse, I was left to wait in the room for another 15 minutes, shivering in the cold air. I bounced my knee and aimlessly scrolled through Facebook until the doctor came in. After describing my symptoms, yet again, even though they were in my chart, the doctor asked if there was even a remote chance that I could be pregnant. And since I couldn’t answer that with utter confidence, she made me take the dreaded urine test. 

I was so nervous I nearly couldn’t do it, and then had to wait even longer for the results to come back, my stomach tied in knots for an entirely different reason. I’d had my period, though, so I’d never thought to take the home tests I’d bought. I’d believed that was a sure sign I wasn’t. But what if I’d been wrong? I thought to myself, my head a complete jumble.

When the doctor knocked and came back in the room, interrupting my train of thought, I nearly fell off the table for having been holding my breath so long. I was clutching my phone in my hand so hard my knuckles were turning white.

“Well, Juliette, your symptoms are very explainable by one very simple thing. You are indeed pregnant, about seven weeks or so,” the doctor replied, as gently as possible.

“But it can’t be,” I whispered, feeling the walls of the room closing in around me, the tightness in my chest threatening to overwhelm me. “I had my period,” I said stupidly.

“Many women still have menstrual cycles, especially in the first trimester. It’s quite common, and some can even exhibit period symptoms throughout the entire pregnancy. But the results are very clear,” she explained sympathetically after gauging my reaction as not-of-the-excited variety.

When I didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, the doctor continued, giving me a prescription to help with the nausea and telling me I needed to follow up with my Ob-Gyn. I could only nod my head, still frozen in the ocean of confusion, fear, anxiety, joy and excitement that came with “You’re pregnant.” Where do I go from here? I had no idea.

I left the clinic in an absolute daze, and instead of going to Rocketman rehearsal, I ended up wandering around Regents Park, not really seeing anything at all as I worked through the torrent of emotions and thoughts and questions inside my head. Seven weeks meant the baby was definitely Markus’ - that was the only good thing about this situation. I wouldn’t have to spend months wondering who the father might be. 

But now I wasn’t sure what to do; I was in love with Taron, but how could I possibly ask him to carry this burden with me, to take this responsibility on when it was another man’s? Even more so, I was adamant that Clara know her father; I would fight just as hard to make sure this baby knew his or hers. And I had yet to actually leave Markus, so maybe the right thing to do was to decide to be with him even if it didn’t make my heart entirely happy. I now had a responsibility to this baby to not be selfish, to not choose only my own happiness but what would be best for all of us.

I gently touched my belly and smiled for a moment; a new chapter in my life was most definitely beginning.

I finally made it to rehearsals, texting Taron that we needed to talk later, as soon as we could manage to find time. He responded immediately that he’d meet me after rehearsals were over, so I spent the next few hours trying to dance through my anxiety. As soon as I stepped out of the rehearsal room, bag slung over my shoulder, Taron was there waiting for me.

“Juliette, darling, everything alright?” he asked, kissing me on the forehead and making me feel intrinsically sad.

“No, not really,” I said softly, nodding toward one of the empty studios. We stepped inside and instantly I felt smaller, diminished by what I was going to do, a lesser person somehow.

“Please tell me what’s going on,” he asked, his eyes wide and full of the vulnerability that had endeared me to him, my hands clutched tightly in his.

“I can’t do this,” I said so quietly I wasn’t sure he even heard me. “I can’t be with you, Taron,” I mumbled, hearing his sharp intake of breath and feeling it like a knife wound in my heart.

“What the hell do you mean?” he asked, slowly dropping my hands and staring at me.

“I have to break up with you. I’m going to choose Markus,” I said numbly, unfeeling.

“You told me you loved me,” he said, the hurt in his voice hurting me.

“That was a lie,” I said, trying not to tear up. I’m not sure I sounded even remotely convincing.

“No, it wasn’t a lie,” he said, shaking his head and calling my bluff. “I don’t know why you’re doing this, at all. I don’t understand it, but I won’t play these games with you,” he said, waiting for me to explain myself. But I couldn’t tell him about the baby now; it would only hurt him further. “I gave my heart to you. You can’t just toss it away or pick it back up when it’s convenient to you,” he said, not an ounce of anger in his words, only resignation. His eyes were a bit red at that point, and if I wasn’t already feeling low, seeing him nearly cry would have broken me down further.

He sighed heavily when I still said nothing. “When you’re good and ready to love someone proper, come back to me. But until then, I wish you all the best,” he said gruffly, tearing himself away and leaving me standing alone in the studio, the pain in my heart echoing silently off the walls.

****

It turns out that I deserved the biggest Oscar award in the world. To act sincerely happy when your heart is shattered into a million jagged pieces is no small feat. Markus, for his part, was beyond thrilled that I had chosen to be with him after all, and while he wasn’t Taron in any capacity, he was still kind to me at least. I had yet to tell him that I was pregnant though; somehow that felt like a secret I needed to protect until the moment I couldn’t hide it any longer. 

For now, I continued to dance, eating anti-nausea meds like Pez candies and trying to find the right balance between eating enough food to sustain myself and the baby but not so much that I’d gain any more than I had to. If the production never found out I was knocked up, then no one else would have to be the wiser. I hadn’t told my mum yet either, afraid of her judgment, nor Madison, even though I desperately needed to talk to someone about this. All she knew was that I had decided to cast my lot in with Markus and that I was, according to her, figuratively insane.

The worst part was the cold politeness I now received from Taron any time we ran into each other at the studios. I hated what we had become, hated the pain I had caused him and myself. I knew he’d shut himself down to protect his own feelings against me, but knowing how warm and compassionate and open he could be just made this feel even worse. Still, I knew for certain that he couldn’t know about the baby, and so I bore the ups and downs of the pregnancy for weeks in silence, sometimes dreading getting out of bed, sometimes full of a strange energy I couldn’t explain. But glowing I was not; I mostly felt bedraggled and exhausted, so much that even Clara asked if I was sick one day.

But you can only go so long without support before you totally break; I learned that lesson the hard way. Five weeks later, after a back-breaking rehearsal, I just totally felt something inside me snap. We were about to start night shoots for the “Saturday Night’s Alright” scenes but I couldn’t even muster the excitement I had originally felt when I signed my contract. I felt like I was going through the motions of everything, and I was worried I wouldn’t even be a proper fit for the film. I was living a lie, only partly happy in this pseudo-relationship I was trying to build with Markus. It wasn’t true, and it wasn’t me, and keeping the baby a secret was crushing me. I also desperately missed Taron, and I can’t tell you how many times I nearly dialed his number, because I knew despite everything he would have picked up the phone, and he would have listened, and he would have tried to help me find a solution even if he wasn’t with me. That was just the person he was; I felt like I had lost my best friend.

I pulled Markus into the same empty studio I had broken Taron’s heart in, and sat down on the floor, my hips aching something fierce.

“Markus, I have to tell you something. Please don’t freak out,” I said quietly, as he sprawled out on the floor next to me, his sweaty shirt sticking to his muscular chest.

“What is it, babe?” he asked, crossing his arms behind his head and staring up at the ceiling. While I loved when Taron called me babe, something about the way Markus said it always made me cringe slightly. For a moment I nearly chickened out in telling him my news, but I couldn’t keep going on like this. At some point he would notice when I was naked that my just-beginning-to-show stomach bump was more than just a large meal I wasn’t even eating.

“You remember that first time we had sex, right?” I said, looking over at him and biting my lip.

“Of course I remember that,” he chuckled. “I fell for you that night,” he said, a boyishly cute grin on his face.

“Yeah, well, we did a lot more that night than just sleep together. Markus, we made a baby. I’m pregnant,” I said quietly, but my words still sounded too loud.

“Woah, no way,” he said, sitting up immediately. “You… you’re sure of that?” he asked, and I nodded.

“I had a test at the clinic, I’m sure,” I said. “I’m twelve weeks already.”

“And you’re sure it’s mine?” he asked, making me sigh.

“Of course it is. Taron’s always used protection, for one, and for two, the timeline is right. It was you.”

He was quiet for a long few minutes, trying to process this news, I’m guessing. “You’re running out of time then,” he finally spoke.

“Running out of time? For what?” I asked, confused.

“Well you’re not going to keep the thing, are you?” he said, and I couldn’t help it, my jaw dropped.

“Of course I’m going to keep your son or daughter. This baby isn’t some ‘thing.’ It’s not garbage you throw away,” I said, feeling the anger rising in my chest.

“Woah, I didn’t mean it like that Juliette. But I sure as hell am not ready to become a father,” he said, holding up his hands to me.

“You don’t get to make that decision now, Markus. You have to take responsibility for what you did,” I nearly hissed. “And what about Clara? You can’t date me without considering her!”

“Yeah, but Clara’s old enough to wipe her own ass. And I’m not her father, she already has one of those she spends time with. I’m fine with that, but a baby is a whole other story. You can’t possibly want this too, it will ruin your career,” he pointed out, and I could only stare at him, unable to process what he was saying.

“My career? Being a mum was the best thing I’ve ever done in my life and I will choose my family over my career every single day of my life. But of course, you wouldn’t know what that’s like because you don’t even want to try,” I said, my face flushing red.

“I’m sorry Juliette. I just can’t,” he said, shaking his head. “I’d support you if you want to, you know, terminate it, but I won’t be the one raising it,” he said. “I’m not going to shatter my life like that,” he continued.

“Then get out. Get out of my face. Don’t ever talk to me again,” I said, my voice shaking in both anger and anguish. “This baby will be better off without someone who doesn’t want it. But I do, and my baby will always know how much I love him or her.”

I buried my head in my hands, bursting into tears as I heard Markus leave the room without another word. I’m not sure what I had expected, but that was not it. I hadn’t remotely prepared myself for the possibility that he would have wanted me to get an abortion, that he would reject fatherhood so thoroughly. Were any of us ever ready to be a parent, even people who had looked forward to it for so long? There was something so deeply terrifying about being responsible for the needs of such a tiny human being, of trying to help them thrive in a world meant for destruction. But that was also the greatest role I had ever held, far more rewarding than any production I had ever graced the stage in. And it wasn’t until the words had left my mouth that I realized how deeply, fiercely I wanted and needed this baby too.

I have no idea how long I cried in that empty studio. I have no idea who discovered me like that through the tiny window in the door. And I have no idea who went and got Taron, but suddenly he was there, pulling me into his safe, comforting arms. I don’t know how long we sat like that, until I had long cried all my tears out and my body had stopped shaking and his fingers grew tired of stroking my hair.

He had stayed silent, patient, until I finally pulled away enough to sit up on my own. “Are you going to tell me what’s going on now?” he asked, absolutely no judgment in his voice. His expression was nothing but kind and compassionate, worried for my well-being over his own.

“I found out I was pregnant five weeks ago,” I said softly. “That’s why I was feeling so ill. I went to the clinic and we did a test. I was already seven weeks at that point. I thought … I thought it would be the right thing to do to give Markus a chance to be the father of the baby he created with me but he wants no part in it. He told me to get rid of it, and I can’t,” I whispered.

“That’s why you tried to break things off with me?” Taron asked gently, smoothing back my hair from my face as I nodded. “Oh Juliette,” he said softly. “I knew there was something, some reason for it. I knew that wasn’t what you wanted, that you were breaking your own heart. I’ve only been waiting for you,” he said, making me want to cry again. “I am here for you in everything, through everything. And we will face this together too. When I told you I loved you, there were no conditions attached. And I love Clara too, and I will love Markus’ baby as it were my own. Because that’s how I love, endlessly,” he said, and my eyes watered up again.

“I can’t ask that of you, Taron,” I said, wiping at my face hastily, but he just reached over and gently brushed my tears from my cheeks before gathering my hands in his own.

“You’re not asking me to do anything. This is something I need too. Maybe it doesn’t happen exactly the way I imagined it would, but that doesn’t mean I can’t accept it, adapt to it, and grow with it. Life has a way of challenging people, but that doesn’t make it all bad. And I right imagine that this could be so much more of a blessing, yeah?”

“My God, you’re a saint. An absolute angel, Taron. I don’t deserve this, at all. I pushed you away,” I said, trembling slightly so he pulled me back into his arms and kissed my forehead sweetly.

“I’m just Taron,” he smiled. “And you do deserve to be happy, and to be loved, and to be absolutely fucking cherished. So I am here for as long as you want me to be here,” he said. “I never really stopped.”

“Even with this?” I asked, touching my belly, which I had started to hide beneath dance sweats because leotards just weren’t cutting it anymore.

“I’m going to be a dad,” he grinned and I’m pretty sure I broke apart in a whole new way at that statement.

“Taron,” I breathed slowly, just gazing at him, feeling excited and a bit bewildered too. “Are you sure?”

“100 percent, Juliette. Now stop asking me that because I won’t change my mind,” he chuckled sweetly. “Now let’s get you up off this floor, and let’s go have a celebratory dinner, shall we?” he said.

“But don’t you have more filming to get back to?” I asked, a bit wide-eyed and still feeling a bit like I was floating a few feet off the ground. My head was swimming with the crazy turn of events.

“Dex understands. You needed me, it’s really as simple as that,” he replied, helping me stand up and even shouldering my stinky dance bag himself, making me roll my eyes.

“I’m pregnant, Taron, not invalid,” I teased him and he just shrugged.

“I’d carry it for you any day,” he smirked, even holding the studio door open for me too. “Get used to it,” he said, before playfully slapping me on the bum as I walked by. “Also just wanted to do that,” he said cheekily, making me groan at that but also feel so grateful that we hadn’t lost what made us feel so special.

“So who all knows about this?” he asked me as we walked out to his car.

“Just you and Markus, really. I hadn’t told anyone before today,” I said softly. “I couldn’t handle it on my own anymore. I was feeling so alone.”

“Well you aren’t alone now, at all. And you should tell your mum, and Madison. Tell them the baby is mine if you like, if you’re worried about anyone judging you. It might as well be, because I’m going to love it that way,” he said, squeezing my hand in his. “But you should feel happy, and proud, and excited. I want that for you,” he grinned, changing everything about the fear and confusion I’d felt just a few weeks before.

“How are you so perfect, Taron?” I asked, shaking my head in awe of him.

“I just wear my heart on my sleeve. It’s not that hard to care about people more than yourself. I find that pays itself back in dividends. And it’s not hard to love you, you know. You’ve brought a lot of color and light into my life in a way I didn’t understand it could be before,” he said softly. “And now I have even more to look forward to.”

“Damnit, T,” I said through the blush rising in my cheeks. “I don’t know how to handle when you say things like that,” I laughed. “It’s like living inside a fairy tale.”

“Fairy tales were written because the truth in them does exist. They aren’t unattainable, impossible figments of our imagination. They can be elusive, yes, and rare, but sometimes you do find yourself living inside one.”

I could only gaze after him as he unlocked the car, opening the door for me again, as I felt every bit of myself being put right again. We decided on our favorite pizza place, but I first made him stop by my house so I could shower and change into more suitable clothes. Clara was with Zayn that night, so we took our time eating and enjoying our relationship again, a relationship that nothing could seem to derail.

I had the idea to stop over at my mum’s, because of all the people who should know, who had been through thick and thin for me with Clara, it was her. Taron almost seemed cutely nervous as we sat on the couch and I broke the news to her. My mom honestly screamed in excitement, jumping up and enveloping us both in a bone-crushing hug. I had no idea why I was so worried about her reaction after all; we never mentioned the baby’s lineage and let her assume since Taron was there. We figured it would be easier this way, to not have to deliver the news with a long introductory caveat, and if the question came up later we could explain then.

As we were driving back to my home, it hit me with a sudden jolt that I would have to meet Taron’s parents, and that we would be sharing the news with his family too. Something about that made everything feel far more real to me, that this was honestly going to be my life. That I would truly become a part of his life, not just in the few dates we managed to squeeze between rehearsals and film sequences, but that we would honestly be creating a life together. There would be many things to have to discuss and figure out in the near future, but tonight wasn’t the night for all of that.

Later, when we were laying on the couch, my head in his lap, the telly on a low murmur and both of us trying to not pass out, everything just felt right. Troy was snoozing on the rug, and I felt as emotionally satisfied as it was possible to feel, and far too stuffed with pizza than I had a right to be. I didn’t have to put on any kind of show with Taron; there was no performance here. We could both comfortably be ourselves, even if that was tired and cranky or moody or whatever.

“Tomorrow’s a big day,” I said with a yawn.

“God, don’t remind me. Night shoots,” he groaned playfully.

“I think it’s exciting,” I grinned. “The set already looks insanely cool. I can’t imagine it all lit up at night!” I smiled. We’d already had a few camera blockings at the carnival they had built specifically for this scene. I was honestly excited about the four days we’d be shooting tomorrow, despite the massive amount of logistics that would go into it. We were definitely in for some long, long nights.

“You think that because you haven’t done it yet,” he giggled. “Speaking of, we should probably head for bed ourselves now. Try to store up some of that energy we’ll be needing.”

I grinned at that and happily followed him back to my bedroom. We both quickly got ready for bed and fell into it, and I was all too happy to see him resting between my frilly sheets and pillows. “You’re cute,” I grinned, kissing the tip of his nose, which he wrinkled in response.

“Well don’t give me a big ego about it,” he teased me lightly, pulling me down to him so that I squealed and then kissing me proper a few times.

“Get some sleep, love,” he smiled, his eyes already drifting shut in exhaustion.

“You too, T. Thanks for saving me today,” I said softly.

“Always,” he breathed out, falling asleep shortly after, his eyelashes sweetly resting against his cheeks in slumber.

Despite my own exhaustion, I was still a whirlwind of emotion and I couldn’t quite fall asleep, so I silently slipped out of bed and grabbed my phone, sitting on the bathroom floor and calling Madison even though it was late and not caring if it woke her up.

“What on earth is going on with you!” she fairly screeched into the phone when she answered, clearly not asleep. “You’ve barely talked to me for weeks. I’m so-”

“I’m pregnant!” I cut in, and she instantly stopped what she was saying.

“What?!” Madison yelled into the phone, so I had to hold it away from my ear for a moment.

“Jesus, Mads. Calm down. Things have really changed,” I said, explaining why I’d broken up with Taron, how things went down with Markus, and that Taron had been more forgiving than I deserved him to be toward me.

“So you’re back together again?” she asked softly.

“Yeah. I’m not sure we really were ever apart. He knew I hadn’t made the decision I wanted to make. That the lie was that I didn’t want him. He knew that the whole time. He truly knows me better than I know myself,” I smiled softly.

“And what about, you know, Markus’ baby?”

“That Markus refuses to acknowledge? Yeah, Taron said it’s his now. He wants to be a dad, and he’s claiming this as his.”

“That’s love, right there, Juliette. It’s staring you right in the face. Don’t you dare ever try and throw that away again, you hear? I will kick your little ballerina ass with my own pointe shoes if I have to!” she squealed, making me laugh too.

“I think I’m done screwing everything up here,” I replied with a laugh. “The universe couldn’t be louder and clearer.”

“That’s for damn sure. Now I’m just curious when he’s going to put a ring on that finger of yours!” she giggled.

“Woah, let’s not get ahead of ourselves just yet,” I cautioned.

“Dream a little, Juliette. He’s obviously a bit of a romantic. You know he’s going to make an honest woman of you. You’d better get on Pinterest and start planning. Oh, and I’d better be your maid of honor,” she said, making me laugh again. I listened to her chatter on about weddings and babies and all the possibilities, feeling bemused but also a little hopeful. I had no idea what a future with Taron looked like, not really, balancing kids and our careers. But I was certain that it would be happy; not easy, not perfect, but always fulfilling and supportive.

“Alright, Mads, I should go,” I said with a yawn, breaking into her reverie of my own someday maybe wedding.

“Oh, of course. Momma ought to get her baby rest,” she teased me, but it was all in love and excitement for me.

“You know it,” I giggled. “And that hottie in my bed tonight, snoring away,” I snickered.

“Jesus, you lucky bitch,” Madison joked, sort of.

“Yeah, yeah,” I grinned. “Night, Mads. Love you long.”

“Love you hard, Juliette,” she grinned back before we managed to hang up the call. I leaned my head back against the wall for a long moment, smiling to myself. I could honestly do this - I could have a happy life, I thought to myself.

I used the toilet one last time, already starting to feel the need to do that more often, before slipping back into bed with Taron, realizing just how much I had missed seeing the silhouette of his sleeping form. We had grown so comfortable with each other, that that absence over five weeks had been misery. But like magnets, we had found our way back to each other, his openness, vulnerability and forgiving heart never once questioning whether I should be in his life. He already knew that was where I belonged, and I loved him so much for never doubting it. I needed him, and he accepted that, and trusted so much of himself to my broken heart.

“Love you, T,” I said in the darkness, brushing my fingers lightly through his hair, before settling in next to him, feeling every ache and pain, emotionally wrought, but also feeling a deep satisfaction too. There was a certain courage in what he was choosing to do, and I respected him whole-heartedly for it. The universe had given me the greatest gifts, the man beside me, and the baby inside me. As I fell into the sweetest slumber, I promised myself I wasn’t ever going to let go now.

How will Taron and Juliette’s lives intersect, now that there’s a baby between them? Find out in Chapter 8 HERE.

[jrcashwrites]

Clyde Logan Headcanons

For @ravenj84

Consider this a very belated birthday present that I couldn’t get finished in time (shocking right?).  Love you to bits <3

- Clyde has always been quiet about his time in the military, especially about the events surrounding the loss of his arm. Only Jimmy and Mellie knew the full story, but you had heard bits and pieces here and there. Roadside bomb, him almost making it back from deployment unscathed if it wasn’t for that damn Logan curse that hung over the family. Often when Clyde was nervous or unsure of something, he would run his thumb over the outline of the dark tattoo on his arm. You always wondered the meaning behind it, sneaking glances at it occasionally when Clyde was busy mixing a drink with his sleeves rolled up. The ink was faded and worn and you were never quite able to make out the lettering surrounding it. It wasn’t until one night when Clyde woke with a start, breathing heavy as thunder rumbled in the distance that he finally told you everything. Holding him close as he rested his head on your chest, you carded your fingers through his hair as he told you how afraid he was signing the paperwork when he enlisted, figuring there wasn’t a better option for himself if he stayed in West Virginia. Jimmy got to go off to the state school on a football scholarship, which made his Ma proud until he blew out his knee. Mellie and Clyde stayed behind to care for her as her health began to fail. After her passing, Clyde felt aimless and had nothing besides his trailer and his truck to his name.  “It was sign up or go down in the mines, and I ain’t ever liked the dark no matter how good the boys down at the bar said the paycheck was. They wouldn’t be drinkin’ the way they do if it was such a good life.” Clyde told you once he got through basic training, he rather liked military life on base and moved quickly through the ranks into special forces. He knew part of his job was to go overseas, and at first, was excited at the idea of going. A dark look crossed his face as he trailed off, looking up with you with hurt in his eyes. Leaning down, you pressed a kiss to his cheek, a quiet assurance that he didn’t need to explain to you what he had been ordered to do. He had killed, the count you didn’t know, but the fleeting vacant look of him trying to shove the memory back deep down to where he kept them told you enough. Continuing, he told you of how happy he was when his deployment was finally over, the feeling of elation he felt as he boarded into the convoy to head towards the airport. He had thought about the endless rolling hills of his home, how the green seemed to go on forever and how much he had missed the foggy West Virginia mornings as he watched the flat expanse of sand whiz by out the humvee window. The last thing he remembered was a flash of light and his lungs filling with smoke as the roadside bomb ripped through the convoy. A searing pain ripped through his body before the world went black. Waking up days later in a hospital, he faded in and out of consciousness, unsure of if he was dead or alive, faint images of mountains spotting his vision. “When I finally came to” Clyde recounted, “I remember tryin’ to grab onto to somethin’ and my hand wasn’t there to grab onto nothin’. It was just all a bunch of gauze and tape.” Your heart broke as Clyde held onto bit of his arm with his good hand, rubbing at the scars. “It still hurts sometimes, like the pain is still shootin’ down my arm.”    

- Despite Clyde’s injury, he was determined to live his life as normally as possible. Aside from Jimmy’s entire cauliflower plan and all that came along with it, Clyde kept to himself and was a simple man.  He never asked for help, instead wordlessly coming into the kitchen as you fried up bacon and eggs in the evening before he went to Duck Tape with a button down shirt undone, hanging open, exposing a bare strip of his chest. Turning the stove off, you would silently do up the buttons, smoothing down the fabric once they were fastened, smiling at the handsome man before you. “All that for me?” Clyde would ask as he opened a cabinet to take out two plates for the both of you. Taking the faded china from him, you scooped up a heavy spoonful of scrambled eggs and strips of bacon from the pans on the stove, plopping them onto Clyde’s plate. Stealing a bit of bacon from him, you took a bite.  “I’ve rather taken a liking to crispy bacon lately.”

- Clyde has always had a lifelong love of reading. As a child, while Jimmy and Mellie would watch television or rough house in the living room with one another, Clyde would tuck himself away in a corner with a book in his lap. While he never disliked school, he often found the lessons boring and the only highlight was the weekly trip to the library. He would pick out a towering stack of books to check out, while the rest of his class would only take one or two. At first, the school librarian questioned the quiet boy with a mop of dark hair if he was able to read all of his selections in the week before they were due back. He promised her he would, and from then on, she would allow Clyde to take home more than the allowed limit each week.

- His love of reading followed him into adulthood, although he now has less free time to do so. Has an overflowing bookshelf of all sorts of literature from mysteries to classics, along with various stacks of books on his coffee table and next to his bed. During slow hours at the bar, he often makes himself comfortable on a stool to try and read a few chapters before the night picked up again. He would always tell you about the current thing he was reading when you would stop by after work, catching himself as he rambled on about whatever tale of adventure he was currently engrossed in. At first he would be embarrassed that he had just wasted your evening telling you about a story of a lowly writer and his friend who journeyed into the unknown wilds, but your smile and enthusiasm put him at ease. “That sounds like a fantastic story, Clyde” you would tell him.  “Could I borrow it when you are finished?”

- You were surprised to find one day that tucked away amongst Clyde’s collection was a vintage hardcover copy of “Pride and Prejudice.” Clyde found you on the couch, thumbing through the aged pages, taking in the beauty of the book. Sitting down next to you, Clyde took the book from your hands. “You know stories are much better when ya read ‘em rather than just leafin’ through ‘em.” Curling yourself into Clyde’s side, he began to read to you, his low timber smoothly punctuating the words you have read yourself so many times before. Clyde softly smiled as he read Darcy’s words aloud to you “You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.”

- After the heist, Clyde had more money than what he knew what to do with, but was incredibly careful about spending it. At the insistence of Jimmy, he finally called in a professional to rid the attic of the bar of the squirrels that had taken up resistance there years ago. “They never hurt nobody.” Clyde insisted every time Jimmy brought the subject up. “Let Sadie up there for a bit. Kid’s got a hell of a shot.” Finally, he gave in after one of the more adventurous rodents chewed through a speaker wire, cutting off “Night Moves” right before Clyde’s favorite part. Braving the googles, he found a local company that specialized in humane rodent control and finally cleared the bar of the critters.

- Jimmy and Mellie took a liking to you immediately. They hadn’t seen Clyde happy in a long time. Both his brother and sister had long resigned themselves to that Clyde was going to remain single well into old age. Aside from occasional looks from drunken bachelorette parties that would end up at the bar, which Clyde ignored, he didn’t get much attention. He refused to try online dating, even after Mellie tried to set him up a profile. “If there’s a lady for me, she’ll come around on her own good time, not through some computer” Clyde would say repeatedly, until Mellie finally gave up on the idea. When he first met you, he didn’t give much thought to why a pretty lady was talking to him, rather enjoying your company while sitting out on the porch of Duck Tape sipping bourbon together. After a few weeks, you finally told Earl to scram for a bit, leaving you and Clyde alone. “I like talking to you Clyde Logan” you told him as the sun dipped behind the mountains and the first few fireflies of the night began to illuminate the trees. “I like you a lot actually.” You could have sworn even in the low light that you saw Clyde blush, but he finally reciprocated with a shy “I like you an awful lot too.” From then on, you two were nearly inseparable.      

- Mellie would often come over on her days off, plopping Clyde down at the kitchen table to trim his hair and chat with you. She’d tell you stories of when she was in cosmetology school how Clyde was the only one with long enough hair to practice roller sets and finger waves on, often leaving him with ridiculous looking styles he would have to shower to get rid of.  “He drew the line at a perm” she told you “Nearly failed my state boards because of this big lug not lettin’ me make him curly.” Clyde would groan, trying not to move too much as Mellie snipped at his locks. “She made me look like a damn poodle."

- Never one for flashy things, Clyde instead let the heat die down before purchasing a small cottage out in the mountains. Surrounded by few acres of land, Clyde used his off days from the bar to clear the overgrown yard, the thought of one day being able to start a little vegetable garden with you in the back of his mind.  As the weather turned colder, he moved to working on the inside of the house, refinishing the hardwood floors and gutting the kitchen, surprising you one day. “Always liked your cookin’. Now you got a place to do it that ain’t my little trailer no more” Clyde admits as you step into the room, awed at the fact Clyde had spent his days, with help, hanging new cabinets and installing a big farmhouse sink

- Clyde would make sure that the bar was covered two days a week so he could spend time with you. Even though he didn’t need to work, with the heist money more than enough to tie him over for years to come, it gave him a sense of purpose and something to do. Despite the bar hours, you were always his priority, and while you never asked for it, Clyde liked surprising you with little things: your favorite candy that he noticed while checking out at the Grocery Castle or a bouquet of fresh flowers next to the bed to wake up to. One of his favorite things to do with you was going to the drive-in theater a county over. He’d pack extra blankets and put them in the bed of his truck so you both could lay together and watch movies on the big screen. He liked the feeling of you curled up at his side as you both watched whatever the double feature of the week was.     

[peppusae]

[kth] lavender honey ch. 7

note: this fanfic has multiple chapters, so please look forward to more!

lavender honey: kim taehyung x reader

genre: crack, fluff, college au, smut

word count: 3k words

>

lavender honey

ch 7: in which taehyung achieves his dream of world dominance. at least... in the world of your stupid thoughts.

The drive back is filled with jazz music.

Taehyung sits at the passenger seat, half-pouting at a stubborn Namjoon who did not give in, even when the younger male had asked him to rest.

So, instead, Taehyung continues to jam to jazz music and acting as if you all were inside a karaoke box. It’s lively for a change, so you find yourself giggling as you exchange chats with Jungkook here and there.

When a slow song comes on and Namjoon’s gaze goes to the way Taehyung’s deep voice sings the soft song, you put your phone down and listen to the younger male as well. You couldn’t see his face from your seat in the back seat, but you became acutely aware of some little details that you had never noticed before.

Kim Taehyung has the most beautiful shoulders, it fits his posture and build really well. It

You notice for the first time that his hair is growing out, a mullet of sorts.

Shit. That’s hot.

The nape of his neck is so smooth, and you can see the veins in his neck as he sings the song in a very sorrowful voice.

Oh.

This is too much, seriously.

Your subconscious mind, Minji is being extra horny today.

You shut your eyes tight and try to get the nasty visions your nastyass brain was forming in your head as far away from you as possible.

>

And then, you wake up.

You could feel a huge cramp on the left side of your neck, and when you begin to stretch the pain away, you realize that you’re still inside the car, and someone was next to you.

“T-Taehyung?”

“Ah, my dear cauliflower. You finally decided to wake up?”

Cauliflower?

That isn’t even worth questioning..

You yawn in response, stretching yourself a little and looking outside. “Ah, we reached? Where’s Joon?”

“He’s inside. For now, let’s get off.” Taehyung says, and you nod, opening the door and the two of you climb outside.

“Wait. How is it already night, we left from Ilsan in the evening, and the drive shouldn’t have taken more than half an hour, and you were in the passenger seat so why were you in the back just now-”

“You really should leave that nasty habit you have of dumping ten billion questions at once.” He has to say. “And you use varying registers for each word and it hurts my ears.”

“I use varying what?!”

“Anyway. Go back in, here’s the key to the car.” Taehyung says, throwing it at you and you manage to catch in. Score! “I’ll head off home. Rest well today, yeah?”

It’s kinda annoying that he wouldn’t wait for a response. Maybe it’s a guy thing. To say something cool and then turn around and walk off. Taehyung even has his hands in his pockets like the thug wannabe kid he probably is, as well. Is that a trend, now?

You watch him bring the door of the gate to a close, and then walk off, and honestly. Peach is such a hot color on him.

It’s kinda stupid, but peach is perfect on Taehyung’s hair because it makes him look beautiful during bright light, and very… attractive, at night, when the light is fading and the hue of peach darkens a little.

Why are you thinking about Taehyung’s hair at a time like this, what even.

You heave out a big sigh, opening the door and getting inside your house. You find Namjoon in his room, by his study desk, and he watches you take a seat on his bed.

“So. You slept in the car for two hours. How do you feel?”

“I what ?!”

“Yes you did. You fell asleep right after Taehyungie finally started driving, and I was gonna wake you up but he didn’t want to. So he stayed with you until you woke up.”

This makes your mouth wide open in shock, wondering just why on Earth he would stay for so long, when he could have just woke you up and asked you to go to bed at your own home.

See. This is going to go on to the list of the 54920435 things that will forever baffle you, in regards to Kim Taehyung. The mysteries are endless, and if someone is gonna do urban legends on the 21st century in the year 3829, you feel bad at how many things they’ll have to learn about Taehyung.

So instead, you wish Namjoon a good night and retire to your room, where you stare at the ceiling for God knows how long, before you fall asleep again.

>

‘Noona. Are you back? Can I call you?’

A text is waiting for you when you wake up on Sunday morning.

A couple seconds after you reply with a ‘yes’, Jungkook makes the call.

Not just sexy but also a reliable man! What a catch!!

“I… I found out Taehyungie-hyung went to Ilsan to visit you… I had no idea, Noona. If I knew, I’d have gone with him, as well.”

You shake your head, giving him a smile in response. Wait a sec. This is a phone call bro.

Oh yeah.

“It’s fine, Kookie. I’m fine, really. I just had a hard day, but I’m okay, now. Joon is, too.”

“Noonim. If you don’t have other plans, I’d like to prepone our date for tomorrow, to today.”

“I’d like that, Jungoo.”

“I’ll pick you up in an hour, Noonim.” Jungkook says, before he hangs up.

He shows up five minutes early.

Your mouth is an ‘o’ like those naan you crave to perfect when Joon announces that Jungkook has shown up. Since you were not finished getting ready yet, you ask Namjoon to bring the kid inside till you finish.

Since finding out that Jungkook feels… that…. Uh? Positive… Wanna-go-out kind of feelings towards you, you find yourself changing a little in the sense that your allowance each month goes towards buying beauty products instead of useless junk food.

You even bought one of those stupid… tweezers…

Bruh. What were you even becoming?

Jeon Jungkook is quite famous among the freshmen, and you’ve had some of your classmates ask about what your relationship was, when you two had been wearing the totally-obvious-as-fuck clothing on your first date day.

What really was your relationship with Jungkook? Even Taehyung had asked the same question and you didn’t really have much of a solid answer to give.

Oh shit. That might have been the first time you didn’t have a good answer to give to Kim Taehyung.

Dammit. You really hope Seokjin manages to prepare that memory-erasing potion he fantasizes on creating. It’d be nice to wipe that memory away from his head.

And also that time when you came down to the living room to get ice after you’d finished waxing and you were only wearing your towel around your body and Taehyung had been chillaxing with Namjoon and discussing which member from Stranger Things went through the most development.

That’s some quality discussion, now that you think about it.

You also hope you could erase the memory of him watching you slather on makeup for your first date. Crazy as shit, but you still think about that… disappointed expression on his face.

Is this what doom feels like?

Now that you think some more, you’d probably use the potion on erasing only things related to Taehyung.

Why are we even (silent) discussing fantasy potions even, how is Seokjin gonna create a memory-erasing potion when he can’t even figure out and notice how obvious it is that Namjoon likes him back.

Send help now.

You shake your head and race down the stairs after you get ready. Jungkook is sitting on the sofa next to Namjoon, and you didn’t even know that Taehyung hadn’t left for home yet.

So, the two Kim boys and one Jeon boy are just chilling around the coffee table, playing uno.

Uno? L a m e.

Okay, Uno isn’t really lame, but you were expecting them to do something more wild and less mediocre… Maybe having a mini parkour marathon.

Okay, you’ve watched way too much of prince of stride episodes.

Jungkook looks up when you finally come over to the living room.

“Noonim!”

“Noonim?!” Namjoon’s voice echoes in startlement. Out of context, sure, that sounds a bit weird. Who even calls people that anymore, this is the age of blossoming Noona-romances, after all-

Minji does a double flip in your head, so you tell her to calm the fuck down.

“[Name]-noona is older than me, of course. So-”

“I know that, but why specifically Noonim, is my question-”

“Your sister has some nastyass kinks, dearest Hyung of mine.” Taehyung has to say, before he puts a card down and screeches ‘UNO’ at the top of his lungs.

Jungkook looks very flustered and takes a glance at you, too embarrassed to look at Namjoon and instead looks at Taehyung with a small pout.

Seriously, Taehyung really needs to grow up.

Wait.

If Taehyung does any more of growing up, his voice is probably gonna be deeper and his shoulders broader and his-

Minji needs to shut the fuck up oh my good god.

“Shut up!” You hiss at Taehyung. What was he even doing here anyways? Doesn’t he have an apartment that has been paid to keep him inside it? Why can’t he do one single job?

“L-Let’s go, Noona?” Jungkook says, and you nod. He still looks to embarrassed after Taehyung’s remark, to look at Namjoon, so he simply says ‘I’ll be off, Hyung’ instead and stands up. You pull on his sleeve a little and Jungkook lets you pull him out as you stomp out of the house, feeling a little bit annoyed.

“It’s nice to know that you’re not too gloomy. I’m sure your grandpa is at a better place now, so don’t put yourself through any pain. He isn’t suffering either.”

Those are such comforting words, and you almost tear up and ruin your mascara at the way Jungkook looks a little worried.

“I won’t. Where are you taking me, Jungoo?”

The nickname makes him smile, showing his front teeth and he looks so adorable that you can’t stand it. How can he have such burly arms but such doe eyes and bunny teeth like that?

Some men get ALL the luck.

Jungkook interrupts your worry towards the rest of the general male population by pointing at where his bike was parked at. After he makes sure you’ve gotten on his bike safely, he asks you to please be patient for a bit.

And then.

He takes you to an art gallery.

Jungkook takes you to an art gallery, filled with classical paintings.

The paintings there are so detailed, vibrant and beautiful, and they do nothing but remind you of Taehyung.

Okay. This is getting out of hand. When did this even start?

Is it because he came to attend your grandpa’s funeral?

Or because you both keep spending so much time together for your extra credit?

Is it because he’s the one you see the most after Namjoon?

Or is it simply nothing except the sole fact that he technically worships Vincent Van Gogh?

Jungkook seems to notice your fraying thoughts and lack of conversation between you two.

“Noonim? Are you upset about what Taehyungie-hyung said?”

“No! That’s not it! I’m so sorry Taehyung said that. He’s really stupid, he doesn’t realize what he’s saying when he speaks!!”

Jungkook reacts belatedly, his stare on you for a couple seconds before he then says, ‘Was it a lie?’

“What-”

“You know what I’m talking about, Noona~” He sings, and this makes you punch his arm playfully, your face heating up.

Of course, it’s a kink.

Jungkook himself is a kink, after all.

You were so glad you didn’t say that out loud.

Minji has some issues today.

Daylight changes to city lights in the matter of a couple hours while the two of you laze around at a coffee shop and sip on frothy coffees.

While Jungkook drives you back home and you have your hands clutching onto two handfuls of his sweater, you take a good moment to think about your day.

And it’s very upsetting for you when you realize how different this date was from your first date with Jungkook, how much less the conversations had become, and you wonder if Jungkook would still be interested in taking you out if you keep having other thoughts and memories splurging around in your mind like crazy.

“Noona, next week, can I take you to the grass fields a couple blocks from my apartment? It’s really pretty there, and I want to take you there and then take you home.”

“W-What?!”

Holy shit, you could almost see Minji starting to strip, in your head.

You nasty.

“Ah! I- I really need to learn to rephrase my wordings better.” Jungkook says with a facepalm. Minji is putting her clothes back on when he goes on. “I want to show you what I do. Like, what I’m drawing and what kind of videos I make.”

“Oh.”

“You sound a bit disappointed, Noona.”

“Don’t be too cocky.” You respond, and this earns a big grin from Jungkook, and he hurries to intertwine your fingers together. “Now that I think about it, even if we’ve known each other for a while, I haven’t really been able to see much of your drawings.”

“That’s right! I want to show you so that you’d be impressed!” He gushes. “I always want to take pictures of you that I can sketch, if I have your permission. I have the whole date all planned!”

This makes you giggle, the two of you taking a seat at the porch of your house. It was nice that he didn’t want to leave just yet and thought the same thing you did.

“I also have one more date all planned out! That’s for the next next week, though.”

“What’s that date for?”

“I want to sit by the beach with you for the whole day.”

Your heart swells. Aigoo. How can someone be that cute? You’re almost afraid of asking, because you weren’t sure how much your fragile heart could handle this cute little baby boy.

“And the week after that?”

“Well…” He says, glancing at you, and then getting up. “Let’s let you decide that.”

You give him an ok sign, and the two of you glance at the door.

“I should get going,” Jungkook says, carding his fingers through your hair and looking a little disappointed. “Go in first, Noona. I’ll see you at college tomorrow.”

“Drive safe, Jungoo. I had fun today. With you.”

This makes him smile, and you’re expecting the action much earlier than it actually starts, when he holds your hands tight and then leans in to kiss you.

The taste of banana milk still remains on his lips, and the way one hand softly holds your cheek tenderly makes your heart race a little as you kiss him back and wrap an arm around his neck.

Your first kiss! With Jeon Jungkook!

It’s such a new warmth, and it still stays, even when Jungkook moves away a little, his hold changing into a hug while he looks at your face.

“That was my first kiss, Noonim.” He confesses, bursting into a huge grin.

“That was my first kiss too, Jungoo.”

“What?! Are you serious?” He looks surprised, but doesn’t let you go, and you look up at him and give him a nod.

“I’m a happy, and very lucky man, then. I… I like this, and this is definitely not a platonic feeling.”

Your heart races a little, and the fact that Jungkook has both his arms around your waist is not helping. You really couldn’t concentrate, and the fact that you two were still standing at the porch of your house makes you a little nervous about Namjoon or Taehyung seeing you two.

Ah. That was quite a lot of time that went by without you thinking about Taehyung.

Did Minji sign a contract with him or what-

“Let’s see what happens, Noona. Let’s go on dates and find out what we feel. Are you okay with me?”

“Okay is not enough as an adjective to describe how I feel about you.”

“That makes me glad.” Jungkook joins you and chuckles, and then he takes a step away. “Go inside first, and I’ll text you when I go home.”

“Bye, Jungkook- Wait. You have some of my lipstick on your lips!” You say, noticing the uneven red on his lips now.

“What? Really?!”

When you reach a hand to his face, he takes a step back, shaking his head a little.

“K-Keep it.”

“But-”

“Ah, Noona~ Don’t make your Jungoo more embarrassed!” He whines cutely, and you’re surprised that you aren’t on the floor as melted goo right now.

The two of you wave goodbye, and Jungkook heads back home with a big smile on his face.

There’s no one downstairs, and you’re still recovering from the little high you were on because of Jungkook. As you walk upstairs and head to your room, you see that Namjoon’s room door was open.

Now, you had zero intentions on eavesdropping on what was going on, but when you hear ‘Do you like someone, Taehyung-ah?’, you can’t just walk past or interrupt the conversation, right?

Yeah! You’re doing the right thing! Who knows how much Namjoon might have worked to finally ask this question.

Yeah! It’s all for your bro’s sake!

“My… my chances are rare, hyung. I might want to hold tight, the person I like, but I can’t. Not when things are going well for her with the person she likes. I don’t want to be the person that ruins things for the one person I have the hardest time staying away from, you know?”

[journeysintowebcomics]

Worm Liveblog #117

UPDATE 117: No Help for Anybody

Last time Francis had a feeling they had been transported into another world altogether, thanks to the Simurgh causing havoc and what not. It was shown she has the capacity of making portals, after all! Now let’s continue.

The two-or-maybe-three-if-Cody-is-Ballistic Travelers are exploring the neighborhood, trying to find help for those who need medical attention. There are monsters prowling around, and there’s a lot of noise out there that hint things are looking mighty bad. If they go in the wrong direction, I really don’t think they’ll be okay. They have no powers for the time being, after all.

During their walk, they hear something that sounded like a scream. Marissa immediately suggests they should go help whoever screamed, while Cody argued that’d be putting themselves in danger and therefore should ignore the scream. Francis, being the tie-breaker, decides to go help whoever screamed – not because he’s feeling particularly charitable, but because there’s a small chance whoever is in need of help has medical knowledge they can take advantage of. Good reason as any to go help someone, really!

Without waiting for Cody to argue this further, Francis starts running in direction of where the scream came from.

Turns out the screaming came from a fast food restaurant that has been boarded up. Inside there are a few people, trying to be safe from the monsters roaming outside, but they weren’t successful. One of the people is currently trapped by one of the monsters. Say...

The monsters included a man with a neck three times the usual length and a gnarled hump on his back that was plated in armor.   His arms split in two at the elbow, with one set of hands and one set of limbs that ended in built-in scythes.  He was perched on a table, cackling.  His jacket was clearly borrowed, ill-fitting around his hump, and he kept having to push the sleeves up so they wouldn’t cover his hands or weapons.

His partner held their victim, the ninth person in the room.  She was big, maybe seven feet tall, and heavy in a way that met some middle ground between being muscular and being fat.  Big boned might have been the most apt way to describe her, in a literal sense.  Her skin was thick, her features blunt: she had a porcine nose and cauliflower ears, her fingers were stubby and her lips so fat that they curled away from her comparatively tiny teeth.  She might have weighed four hundred pounds, and the way she was easily holding her victim in the air suggested she was strong enough to kill someone with one good punch.  She wore only a set of grays that looked like a prisoner uniform.  He could make out the first half of the word that was printed across her shoulders: GWER-.

Rounding out the group was a young woman.  Something was off about her, besides the obvious physical changes.  Thick black horizontal lines striped her body, crossing her eyes like a blindfold, extending from the corners of her mouth, lining her chin and tracing down her neck.  By the time they reached her fingers, her skin was more black than white. She wore the same prison grays, but had donned a jacket and boots.  Her blond hair was straight, her bangs cut severely across her forehead.

I’m sorry for copypasting everything, but I wanted to get the descriptions here. It’s weird...they’re not as...inhuman as I expected when it was mentioned they were monsters. Frankly, they don’t sound too dissimilar to how some parahumans look like, especially those that suffer strong mutations. I also notice they have some sort of clothing, hm...

Could it be these monsters were brought from another world with parahumans? That the Simurgh targeted a parahuman prison, and brought its inhabitants here? I mean, it’s not too farfetched. Parahumans can look real strange, like Crawler. Compared to him, these aren’t too bad.

It seems like one of these three isn’t entirely on board with the ‘tormenting civilians’ thing. Matryoshka, she’s called. The other two push a civilian towards her, expecting her to do something. Most likely use her power, with effects currently unknown to the Travelers and to me.

Looks like Matryoshka can...fold people into herself? Perhaps as a manner of storage, or to take something from them? Sure would fit her name. It’s temporary, though, at most a couple hours, and these three intend to use her powers to escape the quarantine. They’re as good as dead, there’s no way they’ll be captured and sent to the Birdcage. Given how they arrived into this world, they’re going to be executed.

Now that I think about it, the Travelers are real lucky they’re alive in the present How exactly did they manage to escape the quarantine? They don’t even have powers right now, they’re just civilians! Even harder to escape! Maybe they found a guard who sympathizes with them, someone who wasn’t aware they’re incredibly dangerous or didn’t have the willpower not to help them. Hm.

Since there’s a chance one of the people Matryoshka is about to fold may have medical knowledge to save Noelle and Luke, Francis jumps forth, going right ahead and stabbing one of the monsters-or-most-likely-parahumans. Good thing he carried a long weapon! Lets him keep his distance. He does rather well, for someone who would be pretty doomed in any other situation. The guy with the scythes is defeated, Matryoshka is targeted next.

No, Krouse made himself stop, took an account of what he was doing.  He was getting carried away.  He turned to run.

That reminds me, what is everyone else in this place doing? Are Mars and Cody hiding and letting Francis put himself in danger? I mean, that’s kind of the right thing to do – putting yourself in deadly danger is not smart – but I admit by now I expected someone to have intervened and tried to take Francis away.

The guy with the hump says Francis is brave and stupid – guilty as charged, really – and apparently decide to take him along? They’re talking a language I’m not sure if it’s invented or if it exists. Putting it into Google Translator gives me Gaelic, but it doesn’t give me a translation anyway. I guess that means it’s gibberish Mr. Wildbow made up?

Turns out Matroyshka does kind of absorb things from the people she folds! No indication if she decides what she takes or not. Either way, the monsters pin Francis down, and due to the stress of having the Simurgh’s weird-ass singing and having a scythe on his face, he kind of lets himself be taken by the song, and starts to reminisce.

“Noelle,” he mumbled.

“Francis?”

He winced.  “Call me Krouse.  Everyone but my mom does.”

“Krouse,” Noelle tried the word. “Okay.  You want something?”

“Just wanted to talk.  When we were marking each other’s papers in class, I got yours.  I just wanted to say I like the way you think.”

Sounds like this may be the first time Francis and Noelle met. So that may be how the Simurgh manipulates people’s emotions to make them lash out and react...she makes them remember specific moments. Alright!

This first meeting didn’t really go well. Noelle and Francis certainly didn’t hit off right away, she seems to have been kind of cold towards him when he compliments her way of thinking. Mars soon approaches, and she’s also cold. I mean, I can certainly imagine Francis is kind of grating because...he’s kind of a jerk, but part of me wonders if this memory was tampered somehow. Wouldn’t be out of the question when it’s about the Simurgh making remember stuff.

“So I know exactly what to watch out for with you,” Marissa said.  “At any given point in time, you’re pulling some nefarious prank, you’re manipulating others to get what you want, you’re making someone else look bad-”

Tampered or not, she’s saying the truth, haha!

This little flashback also shows how Francis got into the gaming group, she overhead them talking about it, and looks like Noelle got curious about if Francis played. Looks like Francis already knew Luke somewhat, too. Friends already? Regardless, the flashback is over when Mars screams, and not in the memory.

There’s Mars! Currently getting tossed around like a ragdoll. No sign of Cody. Maybe he died already. So, it seems it’s not Mars getting thrown around what made Francis fight again, it’s that they interrupted his reminiscing. Geez! And so he reacts like many people would like to react when someone wakes them up from a pleasant dream: displeased. And by displeased I mean holy crap, Francis, don’t stick your fingers into someone’s fresh wound.

He doesn’t hold himself back! He cuts the scythe guy’s throat. I’m blaming the Simurgh for this rather sudden burst of violence.

There’s Cody! Backed into a corner. Matryoshka doesn’t seem to be doing well, and the other monster is getting closer to Francis. Once he tells everyone to run and scatter, he runs too, and the monster keeps chasing him, without much trouble, until he has no option but to fight.

He stabbed at her hand with the knife, and felt a fierce agony tear through his own hand.

Blood welled out from his palm, warm as it ran down his arm to his elbow.  Krouse screamed.

No, he didn’t stab himself in his own hand while he was trying to fight back – although I’m sure that’d happen to a lot of people. What happens is that this woman’s parahuman power is to reflect back damage. Doesn’t make her impervious, it just reflects back. That’s going to be a pain to fight, no pun intended.

Or not! A pair of parahumans take care of this, and not lightly. They pretty much set her on fire, and it doesn’t seem like the damage reflection activated, or they had a way to counter it. Oh well. What matters is that that woman is now deceased, and Francis is in no danger anymore.

His immediate action is to ask for help for Noelle. He doesn’t get to ask for it before getting interrupted.

“That was reckless,” Myrddin said, speaking over Krouse.  “Attacking when we didn’t know the particulars of her power.”

I mean, when has Francis ever done something that’s a good idea against people with powers. Some things never change. One paragraph later, it turns out that was directed at the guy who set her on fire, not at Francis. Anyway! Brushing aside this embarrassing moment for me!

Francis keeps asking for help, they keep ignoring his words, instead notifying Dragon someone is in need of medical attention.

“Two hundred feet away, down your four o’clock, Armsmaster.”

Oh! This is Armsmaster! How neat. Here, let me amend what I said not long ago: “I mean, when has Armsmaster ever done something that’s a good idea at all”. Not thinking things through was his MO. He’s somewhat getting better at that now that Dragon is around.

“How are we for exposure?”

“You two are good for another seventeen minutes at the exposure you’re facing.  Twenty if we push it.  I can have a flight unit to you shortly.”

Aha, so it’s at least seventeen minutes before someone exposed to the Simurgh’s song is considered doomed and needs to be killed, I think. Well there’s absolutely no doubt to me by now Francis and pals have crossed the threshold already. It must have been around a couple hours. Funny how life can change that much in the matter of just a couple hours.

The fight against the Simurgh is going well, somehow, and they’re doubling down quarantine, most likely to ensure any parahumans brought by the portals don’t escape the perimeter. Dragon also notifies they’re taking some sort of measure, and the parahuman who is with Armsmaster – Myrddin, she’s called. I think I have heard that name before? – doesn’t like that measure, even asking Dragon to argue back. Dragon, in all her AI glory, states she’s just following orders.

I was about to ask if Armsmaster and Myrddin just ignoring Francis standing right there to a side, but then I reread and noticed Francis seems to have been turned into some kind of ghost. Trying to keep him hidden from the heroes, hm! Not that it’s a bad thing, Francis may be left for dead for all the exposure to the Simurgh. No wonder he wasn’t being listened to, he’s like...transparent now.

Among the rubble of the stuff that fell into this world, there’s a building that seems to have been part of a laboratory. Armsmaster wants to take a look and deduce from where all this came from, but Myrddin insists they have to get done with their task and get out. Minimize exposure, you know! And since the consequence of not doing that is, you know, death, I agree with her.

“I get bad interactions if I transition something in of one of my dimensions and back, or if I take things out of one dimension and put them into another.  It doesn’t compartmentalize into the dimension properly if it’s been elsewhere too recently.  Whether these people and objects came from somewhere halfway across the globe or some pocket dimension, I don’t think we want to test our luck and risk something disastrous.”

Krouse startled at that.  Is that what happened to me?  Some bad interaction of interdimensional crap?

Pretty unlikely. If Myrddin had used her power on him, I think she’d have said something, or Armsmaster would have noticed. Unless Francis means he being in this world in the first place, in which case, yeah, that’s what happened to you. Blame the flying Endbringer over there.

Is Armsmaster suggesting to use white phosphor for something? Because that’s not a good omen. My immediate thought is that he’s suggesting they use white phosphor to obliterate the perimeter. Needless to say, everyone and everything inside is toast if they do. I once read a book that had white phosphorus used, and the description of the effect was anything but pleasant. Better get out while you can, Francis, seems to me time’s running out.

Once Myrddin and Armsmaster leave, Francis is once again taken by his memories, this time of a less happy moment, when Noelle is unhappy and he doesn’t know why. She’s even saying the ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ routine. They’re a pair, so this can’t be a breakup – a successful one, at least. The wording does hint she wants to get away from him, and that he has been a great person.

When she said she herself was why she wanted to break up, she meant it. Francis doesn’t have the slightest idea what she’s talking about, but judging by...

“Someone said, a little while ago,” Noelle spoke without looking at Krouse, “That I can’t really forge a good relationship with others until I have a good relationship with myself.”

...this, there’s something about herself she doesn’t like. Must be something rather big, if she can’t bring herself to have good relationship with others because of it.

Francis is being nice for once and is trying his best to be encouraging, telling her that she’s fantastic, but she insists they shouldn’t date. That opinion doesn’t change when Francis adds Noelle’s been happier ever since they started dating, and it’s not a platitude, Mars has said that too. But if Noelle says they should break up because this is bad for her, then he’s willing to accept it. Seriously, this has got to be the nicest Francis has been towards anyone in this entire story.

He even offers to leave the gaming team. She doesn’t want him to, and even tells him to forget she even mentioned this, conveniently leaving her thoughts a mystery to the reader. What could it be she’s feeling about herself that makes her dislike herself so much?

The memory ends, and Francis finds himself already rooting into the fallen laboratory, deciding to look around to see if there’s anything that could be of help, like a first aid kit. Well that’s going to be useful for Luke, but Noelle’s going to need something far better than that, if he finds any.

His eyes settled on a metal briefcase beneath the desk, within a few feet of the dead man’s hand.

His fingers crossed for a portable case of medical supplies, he set it down on the desk and popped it open.  Disappointment overwhelmed him.

Six metal canisters recessed in black foam with slots cut out to hold them, paperwork was set in a flap in the lid.

He swore.

…newly purchased superpowers…

...

...

...

...well seeing how Alexandria got better from a terminal disease after getting superpowers, I guess that counts as something far better. She got a much worse deal than Alexandria did, though. Everything in Worm has been a continuous source of grief for her. She’s not happy with Francis because of how she feels about herself, she gets concussions and internal bleeding, and when she gets to have some sort of superpower, she gets one that’s so bad she has to be locked in a vault out of fear she’s going to destroy everything. Worm treats Noelle rather cruelly.

Also, I absolutely love how Armsmaster almost may have been able to stop the creation of an entire villain team if he had been allowed to check the laboratory. Thanks a lot, Myrddin, you are indirectly responsible for the creation of like five new villains. Stellar work. At least Armsmaster only created one!

Francis confirms these are certainly superpowers in a vial – courtesy of Cauldron, no doubt. Does Cauldron know the Travelers gained their powers from their serums? I imagine they may know, surely they must keep a record of what powers get sold.

Taking the metal case with him, Francis decides to return back to the rest of his friends and also Cody, unwittingly kickstarting some rather unfun days for them all except whoever won’t be part of the Travelers. Fun how a series of coincidences led to that. Seriously, so much happened because Francis was in the right place at the right time.

I’m still unsure what happened with Francis turning all intangible and invisible earlier, though. Was it really Myrddin, accidentally doing that? Or was it someone else? I don’t have it clear at all, I admit. If someone can send me a message about it I’d be real grateful.

Ending the update here!

Next time: next update

[jovialyouthmusic]

Secret Rendezvous with Bastien Lykel Crack Fic Challenge

Bastien finds Lady Adelaide somewhat of a challenge, and checks in with his mentor to make a report - and gets a surprise reply.

Word count 3244

A/N No smut as yet, but suggestions are made so No under 18s

2 Challenging behaviour

The following day Madeleine wanted to take a trip into the nearby town to meet a friend, and Bastien accompanied her at a discrete distance. He was secretly glad to be away from the manor and Lady Adelaide’s attention. He couldn’t help feeling a little sorry for her, and couldn’t forget what she had said to him the night before

‘Someone who’s built like you must have a strong sex drive’

Actually she was wrong, or at least at present he hadn’t really had much time for any ‘personal’ time with anyone due to the demands of his job. It hadn’t been long since his last trip to the Greek brothel where he had an arrangement with the Madam and spent a week there every year free of charge helping to train some of the girls in how to accommodate a man of large assets.

He followed Madeleine around from shop to shop and called the limo when she had finished. There was no need for small talk – she was an easy client to look after and he could concentrate on watching for hazards even though she was low risk. One could never be too careful – there was the possibility of her being a target for kidnappers who might hold her to ransom, though it was unlikely as Cordonia was an orderly and law abiding country.

The greatest risk to the wellbeing of the country was dissent against the King. He appeared benevolent on the surface, but Bastien was learning how ruthless he was with anyone who opposed him. Jackson held files on all the nobles listing their vices and scandals to use as leverage. Rumours of dissenting groups were not rife amongst the ordinary citizens, but he now knew that they existed under cover. He was not yet trusted with the less savoury acts of Constantine, the dirty undercurrents of his reign, but he had heard hints of detainment, forced exile and secret executions. As a King’s Guard he was sworn to protect the Monarchy, but he hoped he wouldn’t be called on to undertake tasks he found objectionable. The innocence and  idealism of his youth was taking a battering, but he had little choice but to adhere to his job. He just had to make a few mental adjustments to remain loyal to the Crown.

So, this job was easy. It was part of his training to be responsible for protecting a minor noble, and Madeleine was easy to look after. It was her mother who was difficult. She was an attractive woman, older than him of course, but thanks to his trips to the brothel he had learned that age was not a barrier. He had no preference – young or old, it wasn’t important to him, though when he came to think of it, he’d probably not go for anyone much older than Adelaide. The madam of the brothel had been an exception, being a good twenty years older than him, but with skills that obliterated any objections he might have had.

The rest of the day was uneventful. Madeleine begrudgingly took afternoon tea with her mother before retreating to her room to study. Bastien did his rounds again – it was not strictly necessary, just practice for situations that needed a higher level of security. His schedule allowed a good two hour break, and he decided to use the pool, having already made sure that the two ladies would not be using it.

If asked, he would have to say that swimming was his favourite pastime. He preferred swimming in the sea – he had spent years in foster care, and the family he had spent most time with lived on the coast. It cost nothing and he found it always helped to level out his moods. If he was feeling jittery it would calm him, and when he was despondent he found it invigorating, though as he grew older his moods had levelled out with the regularity and structure his job brought him. There was nothing quite like it – the smooth flow over his skin, whether the water was cold or warm, the resistance, the sensation of heaviness and lightness all at once. Diving under the water was peaceful and soothing, the return to the surface rejuvenating. The slow steady rhythm of the actual act of swimming was similar to meditation for him, helping to clear his mind and reset it to help solve problems or get fresh perspectives.

He stripped to his swimshorts by the poolside and neatly folded his clothes on a shelf. Although his taste in clothes was plain and tailored, he always wore patterned trunks, the more garish the batter, which acted somewhat as camouflage and hid the contours of his genitalia. He was in good shape, his abs flat and toned, so his chest and belly drew the eye away from what lay below his waist. He rarely swam naked as it was unwieldy – he preferred everything tucked away neatly. He wasn’t ashamed of his body, not by any means, indeed he took pride in keeping it toned and honed, but sometimes it meant he got some unwelcome attention. He had learned to diplomatically turn it aside when needed.

He chose to enter the water slowly by the steps at the shallow end. He was pleased it was a regular rectangular shape and not some fancy design that made swimming lengths near impossible. It also deepened to the far end, not enough for real diving, but enough to get out of his depth. He wanted to test whether he could swim a length underwater without coming up for breath. The water was pleasantly cool as he descended the steps, and he found himself just above waist height, the level of the water just covering his lower ribs. Around halfway along the pool it grew steeply deeper, and he held his nose and ducked under to wet his hair, ready to tackle the length. He never bothered with goggles or swim hats and was careful to wash and condition his hair afterwards, having a strict regime for hair and skin care.

He soon had the measure of the pool and steadily got in a few lengths before he tried holding his breath and swimming under the surface. As he broke up noisily he was aware that he was being watched. Lady Adelaide had entered and was sitting on one of the loungers. She clapped enthusiastically and waved at him as he shook the water out of his hair.

‘Very impressive Mr Lykel’ she said, and he was unsure as to whether she referred to his skill or his physical appearance. She indicated a jug and two glasses ‘I was going to have some lemonade, would you like to join me?’ He smoothed his hair away from his face and pulled at his nose and nodded his head side to side to clear his ears and nose of water.

‘Lemonade, Lady Adelaide?’ he asked and she grimaced

‘Well there’s just he teensiest bit of vodka in with it, you’d hardly notice it really.’ He had the idea she wasn’t going to leave any time soon and wondered whether to stay in the water and continue to swim, or get out.

Adelaide waited patiently. He’d have to get out of the water soon enough. God, he was gorgeous. He was good looking and she had seen straight away from his build that he’d be something to see undressed. How she wished she could will away those garish swim trunks to see what lay beneath. She had a pretty good idea after last night when he jumped in to the pool to rescue her in his briefs and shirt. He certainly was a shower, and if he grew more when erect – it didn’t bear thinking about, it just got her so hot under the collar. The chest and chiselled abs did not disappoint and might have been enough on their own.

She was determined to break him down – he was so stoic, so proper and so very formal. She wondered what had attracted him to the King’s Guard. Surely he couldn’t be a commoner with his manners and the way he bore himself, she thought. Surely it would be better known if he was the son of some minor noble – or perhaps he was from a foreign country. His accent was Cordonian but that meant nothing. She was very intrigued and wondered who she could ask to find out more – he would most likely be close lipped about his origins.

As it was, she gazed at the water starting to bead on his skin, the dark hair trailing down almost making an arrow that pointed to his groin screaming look here, look down. She sighed

‘Why are you afraid of me Bastien?’ she asked ‘Am I really so dreadful – am I too old, too ugly?’ His expression changed to one of surprise and a hint of sympathy.

‘I’m not afraid of you’ he replied ‘And you’re not old or ugly, Lady Adelaide’. He came to the steps and got out of the pool, retrieving a towel to dry off. She ogled him hungrily, but he stared her down and she looked away, ashamed. He sat on the recliner next to hers, legs parted, elbows on his knees. He dropped his head and looked up at her, eyebrows furrowed ‘I’m just trying to be professional, Ma’am. This is my first solo job, and Mr Walker will be assessing me’ Adelaide laughed

‘Your first? Funny how Jackson sends me the young novices – the good looking ones. Has he set you any tests yet?’ Bastien frowned in thought and shook his head. She leaned forward and lowered her voice. ‘I’ll tell you a secret, Bastien. He sends me the young good looking ones and waits to see if they crack – how long it takes me to bed them. He’s never told me so, but I worked it out myself. You know Frank Martin?’ Bastien nodded

‘Yes, he’s one of his top men despite being younger than most.’

‘Tell me, if you were a woman would you find him attractive?’ Bastien frowned

‘If I were a…’ his face cleared. Frank would never win a contest for best looking guardsman. He hadn’t been blessed with good looks – he had been a boxer and had received many blows to the head that resulted in a ruddy complexion, a nose that had been broken several times, and had what was called ‘cauliflower ears’’ Adelaide was grinning

‘That’s right Bastien, Frank was never assigned to me because I wouldn’t have tried to get him in bed – or so Jackson thinks. He doesn’t realise I don’t only go for looks, but you get the idea.’

‘You’re the test’ Bastien said, sitting up straight, realisation dawning. ‘It’s not been said in so many words, but to get personally involved with the person you’re guarding can compromise the job’ She nodded

‘Sadly now you know, you’re not going to give into my charms are you?’ She said ruefully and Bastien’s face softened.

‘I’m sorry Lady Adelaide, as I said, it would be best to keep things professional’ She took a sip of her drink

‘There’s no such desirable fruit as that which is forbidden’ she said. ‘For what it’s worth, you are the most desirable man he’s ever sent to me. I have no idea why I told you what I did’ Bastien smiled at her for the first time.

‘I really appreciate it Lady Adelaide, I’m determined to do well in the Guards. I had a difficult start in life – I never knew my father, and my mother died of a drugs overdose when I was a teenager. I have no family to fall back on, I was brought up by foster parents.’ Adelaide leaned over and squeezed his knee

‘I’m sorry to hear that Bastien. I think you’ve made a good start and I don’t want to jeopardise that for you’

‘You’re an attractive woman, your grace’ Bastien said, his expression softening ‘Don’t ever think you aren’t, but we have a professional relationship and I can’t go any further than telling you that.’ Adelaide looked down at her hands

‘Actually, you’re not here for me – you’re here for Maddie’ she said slyly. Bastien sat back in surprise

‘Yes, but you’re still my client’s mother’ he said ‘It wouldn’t be…’

‘Just how would Jackson find out if I seduced you do you think?’ she asked.

‘I would tell him’ he replied firmly. She pouted

‘Do you have to? Surely you can keep a secret – that’s part of your job too isn’t it?’ He shook his head

‘You’re presupposing that you’ll be successful in seducing me’ he said ‘and that I’d be willing to give in’ He was horrified to see tears start to her eyes.

‘You said I was attractive’ she said mournfully

‘Yes, but I’m not looking for a physical relationship right now’ he said swiftly, and Adelaide scoffed, quickly recovering.

‘Who said anything about a relationship, all I want is for you to screw me’  He put his hand over his face. He had to end the conversation; his free time was coming to an end, and he was getting cold.

‘That’s not what I meant. I need to concentrate on my job, not sleep with anyone who wants me’

‘So I’m just ‘anyone’?’ her voice rose ‘Who else is hitting on you – the maid – the cook?’ Her eyes narrowed ‘or do you prefer men – is it the gardener?’ Bastien got up and retrieved his neatly folded clothes.

‘My sexual preferences are not up for discussion’ he said ‘I have to get back to work’

‘I could tell him you assaulted me, you know’ she said as he walked away. He froze to the spot, then turned, fixing her with a fierce gaze, mouth tight.

‘I don’t believe you would Ma’am’ She looked down, ashamed for a moment, then tilted her head up and locked eyes with him, pleading

‘I’m sorry, is it such a difficult thing for you to consider? We could be discreet’ she said in a small voice

‘Ma’am you told me yourself you have lovers’ he said ‘I suggest you call on someone else and leave me alone’ With that parting shot he turned his back for the last time to go and get changed and patrol the perimeter again.

 Later, it was Bastien’s task to check in with his mentor. He used his cell phone outside in the grounds where he wouldn’t be overheard. It wasn’t of the utmost secrecy and didn’t need an encrypted line, but he liked to take at least some precaution after the nature of his employment after all. Luckily reception was good and the line crystal clear. His training taught him to listen for verbal clues as to Jackson’s mood or any duplicity (not that the head of the Kings Guard would have reason to lie to his staff) and also for any background noises that might give away his location or any other information.

‘Good evening Bastien, how are you doing?’ Jackson sounded relaxed and Bastien surmised he was home and off duty.

‘Very well sir, there has been one incident to report – I trust you received my statement by email’

‘I did son. Did you check the motion sensors by the pool?’

‘Yes sir, one of them was reporting a slight delay in response – just a second or two, it was possibly why the alarm didn’t go off promptly.’ He found himself standing stiffly to attention ‘It was my error in not checking it beforehand’

‘There are many sensors to check Bastien, had you been on site for longer you would probably have picked up on it before it was a problem. You responded promptly and Lady Adelaide was unharmed, so there will only be a very minor demerit’ Bastien’s heart sank. He had hoped to get a perfect score for the assignment – he knew already it was unlikely, but at least Jackson was lenient with him.

‘How are you finding your assignment son?’ Bastien broke out in a cold sweat. This was not a question he could answer by checking a bullet list. Walker was asking for a personal assessment, a gut reaction, and he was uncomfortable with this aspect of the job. He dug deep.

‘Overall it’s not difficult Sir’ he replied ‘There has been one challenge I did not foresee that has been a minor problem’

‘Please go on’ Jackson replied, and Bastien detected a slight hint of amusement in his voice. He cleared his throat

‘Lady Adelaide has been – she has made some inappropriate remarks and advances’ He was sure now that Jackson was stifling laughter as he heard muffled sounds coming from the other end consistent with the microphone being covered over. There was a short silence before his mentor replied, supressed mirth in his tone.

‘And how did you react to that, son?’

‘I turned it aside, naturally’ again the microphone was muffled, and Bastien took a leap of faith ‘I take it that Lady Adelaide is my test, sir?’

‘Test, son?’ his voice was a little strangled

‘Of my resolve. It would be unprofessional to react to the sexual advances of one of my charges, Sir’ Jackson now stopped any effort to hide his amusement and it was a while before he stopped laughing long enough to be able to speak again.

‘Son, this is Cordonia. There’s no need to deny that mighty snake of yours’ Bastien felt his cheeks burn. He hadn’t been able to hide his physical attributes for long at the Walker household. Bianca Walker had accidentally walked in on him whilst he was showering in the morning after staying over when he had babysat the Walker’s two children. The other recruits already knew how well endowed he was, so it was natural Jackson already knew. He sighed

‘Sir’

‘Really son, you show exceptional dedication to the job. It’s true I throw our better looking recruits at Lady Adelaide as a test, and you passed it with flying colours. It can’t have been easy after pulling her out of the pool’ he stopped to laugh again. He could hear Bianca’s throaty laugh in the background. Was nothing secret in the Jackson household? ‘So what have you told the lady in question to keep her at bay, son?’ he asked

‘That we have a professional relationship and I can’t allow her attempts to seduce me to succeed, Sir’

‘Bastien, you have to be the most well endowed recruit I have ever come across. Lady Adelaide’s sexual appetite is legendary, and I think you’d be foolish to turn her down. You have my permission to do anything you like with her – presuming you find her attractive. As long as it doesn’t compromise the job and you are discreet, you’re free to do as you please.’

‘I – thankyou sir’ Bastien gulped. He felt hot under the collar and his pants tightened uncomfortably. His head might be telling him to be restrained, but his manhood got the message loud and clear that playtime was imminent.

‘Okay son, thankyou for checking in. Enjoy your evening’ The line went dead and he had the impression his mentor was rolling around laughing at the other end. His shift was over, and he knew exactly where he was going next. 

He was going to make sure Adelaide remembered him for a very long time indeed.

3 The Lesson

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[talix18]

November 4

If I could go back in time and tell myself anything useful, #1 would be for gods sake please keep up with guitar lessons. #2 would be something about considering carefully the fact that you're going to live out a few more decades; continuing to blow up relationships will have you living them out mostly alone. #3 would be Absolutely Fill Out the Rhodes Scholarship application, idiot. I know you don't know yet that you want to travel but I promise that the experience you would have going to school overseas would be more than worth putting up with the weather. It's a problem that opportunity arises for some people when they're too young to appreciate it – at least it was a problem for me. So play guitar, sing, write, do all those things in front of people because it can just be fun, you know. Go to school far away. Sit still and let someone love you.

Because there is a distinct possibility that you will never meet someone who you know is The One. I'm pretty sure I thought I'd met The One two or three times. Nobody is going to fit all of your edges without rubbing uncomfortably in a few areas, whether it's their tendency to cut their hair too short or their inability to take on housekeeping duties when you're laid up or their families not being people you'd choose to hang out with. It's nice to have someone to hang out in sweatpants with; it's nice to have someone around who makes you laugh. Love is just as much about action as it is about emotion. It's not just something that happens to you; it's also something that you do.

But the reality is that I did meet someone I had those heart-flips over. We had that connection I'd always hoped to find. And life got in the way. He wasn't willing to make the changes he needed to in order to be with me and I wasn't willing to wait anymore. And I had the one that I was crazy about who just wasn't as crazy about me, and the one that I thought was the Universe actually working in my favor until the long-distance of it all got too much. Maybe I've had my chances.

I just want a life where I can honestly say “I wouldn't change a single second because it got me here.” Is that so much to ask?

Is it terrible if I don't eat anything except cauliflower crust veggie pizza? I mean, if I'm not overdoing the cheese and the veggies are fresh and the sauce doesn't have sugar in it – there's no reason that it's a “bad” idea, is there?

Saturday night I was at a meeting where a friend was celebrating nine years clean. She is hilarious and outgoing and incredibly smart, and she honestly believes that all Muslims are taught to throw acid in the faces of their women. This baffles me. I have this other friend – she's Jewish and also incredibly smart, and helped vote in the current administration because she's anti-reproductive rights. The administration that normalized being a Nazi in the 21st century. I just don't get it. And this is always going to limit the extent to which I'm going to trust someone – if you fundamentally believe that some humans are less deserving of compassion and dignity and self-determination, then I have to wonder what's going to happen if I fall into one of your less deserving categories.

Anyway, what I'm learning is that my mental health depends on being around people – on being part of a community – and I need to tell the truth about myself in safe places. So I'm at a meeting Saturday sharing about how my depression manifests, the specific example being that for most of the almost 15 years I've lived in this house, there has been a dresser drawer on my bedroom floor. It hasn't always been the same drawer – I've fixed at least two or three rails in the time I've owned these IKEA dressers. And it is entirely likely that I wouldn't have this problem if I didn't stuff the drawers beyond their recommended capacity. The point is that this is how I live: walking around the drawer on the floor. I am not going to consider my shit together until there are no drawers on the bedroom floor.

After the meeting, the woman next to me, who is a successful married adult with grown children, leaned over and said “I've never felt so close to you.” And that's what it's about, gang. Those moments when we tell the truth about how we live and other people recognize themselves in it. It's scary sometimes but, for me, it's necessary. And when I have more than one broken dresser drawer, I can ask for help getting rid of the things I don't need and taking the broken things to the dump. Then I can buy a new piece of clothing storage furniture, probably from IKEA, because I'm not made of money, and this one doesn't have drawers.

Last night I drove two hours to Philadelphia to see Fleetwood('s Heartbreakers House) Mac. You have to understand what Stevie Nicks means to me. Yes, I loved “Dreams” when I heard it the first time in someone's apartment in fifth grade where I was playing some version on Spin the Bottle for the first time. (Billy Schoonmaker, where are you now?) I loved the White Winged Dove song that I didn't know the name of until I saw a song I'd never heard of by Stevie on a jukebox and played it. And I remember a cartoon of someone literally dragging a heart behind them that was in the junior high newspaper. But The Moment I got it was when my mother's second husband, who played bass in an actual, playing out band, brought home Stevie's first solo album. I remember seeing her on the cover with white roses and gauzy clothes and a crystal ball and a tambourine and thinking “you mean life can look like that all the time?” My experience of gauzy clothes and crystal balls was limited to the Renaissance Festival that came to town every summer. I don't know why I took that album cover so literally – she could have been dressed that way specifically for those pictures – but in that moment I had permission to make my life look any way I wanted it to.

So Stevie, and by association Fleetwood Mac, have been part of my soul for most of my life, and I've been lucky enough to have seen her solo and with them several times. (Not on the Wild Heart tour, though! Not when Joe Walsh was her opener and Mom refused to sit through him and I was too young to go by myself. [Learning later that Stevie considers Joe the lost love of her life just makes it easier to carry that grudge.]) I've seen them minus Lindsay plus Billy Burnette & Rick Vito, with Lindsay Buckingham but minus Christine McVie (sorry I'm not sorry this is my preferred line-up), and now minus Lindsay plus Mike Campbell and Neil Finn.

I saw them in April and had All The Emotions. All of them. There were the general Stevie emotions, of course. Then there were the Tom Petty emotions, because I'd seen Campbell with Petty and the Heartbreakers the previous summer, on that last tour. Thank god. I don't even know what made me decide to go – I didn't take pictures or buy a shirt like I almost always do – but I was there, and then Tom died. And now Stevie, who adored him, and Mike, who was his musical partner, were on stage together without him.

Then there's Neil Finn, who was? Is? The frontman for Crowded House, who I also love. But more importantly, he was one of the favorites of my friend Andrea, who died of cancer far too young, who lived in Seattle and I made it a point to fly out for her 40th birthday. Who I flew out to sit in the hospital with in the last weeks of her life. Who I met on the Internet of all the ridiculousness, along with an entire group of Webpeeps who I've been lucky enough to ride roller coasters, celebrate weddings, and baptize babies with. Andrea loved Split Enz and Crowded House and made me listen to their catalog beyond “Something So Strong” and “Better Be Home Soon” and find the pop perfection there. There he was, sounding like he was doing Fleetwood Mac karaoke but also sounding like someone I love who is gone.

Not to mention the whole Stevie and Lindsay and will he ever be able to sing again after his throat was injured after his heart surgery and what the hell happened that Stevie decided this was finally a bridge too far to cross with him after everything else they've worked through. I love Stevie but not blindly, and I see Fleetwood Mac touring without two of their three main songwriters but not without her.

All. The. Emotions.

And I went with my grown adopted niece and Stevie sang about children getting older and I was weeping, as I do.

I had decided against buying a shirt, figuring I could make a more rational decision about what I wanted the next day and get it online. And learned to my horror that no, I couldn't, and then the crazy started. The crazy that said “Look! They're going to be in Philly Friday. Get a ticket to that show and buy what you want there. And if you go alone, you can get a more expensive single seat on Mike Campbell's side of the stage and be In It.” I don't remember how long I thought about it. I do know I ran it past my sister, who said she'd done equally as outrageous things, which gave me permission. My sister is one of the sanest people I know and is one of the lines I can never color outside of.

So I bought that Mike Campbell section ticket and reserved a place on the parking lot and vibrated through half a day at work looking forward to it. Until I happened to see something about them canceling the Boston show the night before and looked further and saw that the Philly show had to be postponed due a band member's illness. I was disproportionately devastated. Which is a thing with both addiction and depression – responding to things out of proportion with their actual importance. That disappointment led to a pretty steep downward spiral during which I actually called my sponsor and allowed her to talk me through the insanity maze.

It is recommended that one have a sponsor one trusts and get in the habit of talking to them regularly so that muscle will be exercised when you're feeling crazy or like using or whatever it may be. This is not my way. My traditional way of being a sponsee was crawling through whatever on my own and calling my sponsor to tell her about it afterward, and getting together with her just long enough to work whatever my next step was before my anniversary. Then my very smart Buddhist sponsor with 20 years clean relapsed, and everything changed.

[atlafan]

Take it Slow - Part Fifty

/n: okay this is my first shot at a harry:y/n fic, and it will be multiple parts. y/n had a bad experience with an ex over a year ago, and finally accepts her coworker and good friend Niall’s invitation to go on a blind date with his friend Harry.

Warnings: Smut and Fluff.

Masterpost (all previous parts can be found in the masterpost)

Wednesday after work you and Harry started packing up some things from the bedroom. You had clothes you knew could be packed away. He got under the bed to grab some boxes you had stored under there. You were grabbing more boxes from the living room when he opened a small box up. He herd some things rattling around. His eyes went wide and his cheeks flushed when he opened it. You stop short when you come back into the room.

“When was the last time you used these?” He places the box on the bed.

“I have no idea!” Your cheeks were red with embarrassment. “Put the lid back on!” He grabs one of the items and holds it up.

“I mean, this thing is fuckin’ huge.” He starts laughing.

“It was a gag gift! Please put it down.”

“But it’s been used, yeah?”

“I tried it out once, put it back.” He puts it back in the box and picks up a much smaller item.

“And what about this?”

“It’s a fucking vibrator.”

“I know what it is, you don’t use this?”

“Obviously not! I stopped using them a long time ago. After everything happened I only felt comfortable doing that with my own hand.”

“So you don’t want me to use either of these on you. That dildo is probably the same size as me, you know?”

“Harry, please stop, throw them out for all I care, I don’t need them.” You swallow hard. “Wouldn’t that be weird anyways?”

“What?”

“Using either of those on me?”

“Nah, it’s kinda hot actually.” He smirks. A scowl grows on your face. “Sorry.” He drops the vibrator back in the box. “Surprised you don’t keep this in the bedside table. That’s where your lube is.”

“Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!” You snatch the box and cover it.

“Don’t throw ‘em away might need ‘em when I’m in Florida.” He laughs.

“As if these things could make me feel half as good as you do.” You didn’t want to inflate his ego, so you retract. “Better yet, they actually could. In fact, maybe I will use them while you’re gone. I could replace you completely, we’d never have to have sex again, would we? I could just make myself come over and over.” You pack the box away inside a larger box.

“Very funny. If ya do that while I’m gone feel free to send me a video or somethin’, love to hear ya moanin’.” He kisses you on the cheek. “Better yet, we could just FaceTime while you’re doin’ it, you know, as a treat.”

“Not in a million years would I do that.”

“Same thing as phone sex, love.” He pulls some of his clothes out of the closet and puts them into a dress bag.

“What you’re talking about is straight up porn. I’m not recording myself using a vibrator.”

“Too bad, it’d be nice to have that in my pocket at the ready.” He winks at you and you roll your eyes. “So you really don’t use those?”

“No, I forgot they were even there to be honest.”

“Who got you the dildo?”

“Ummm, in college sex toy parties were like really popular. I’d never bought anything, they were just fun to go to. You could free samples and stuff. I think Kate got that for me actually.” You smirk. “I saw it and I was like who needs something like that? So she bought it for me as a joke. You’ll notice it had a couple of extra parts.”

“Yeah, for your bum.”

“Yeah.” You blush. He sits down on the bed and starts laughing. “What?”

“Please tell me you’ve used that to its fullest.”

“I got drunk one night and gave it a whirl yeah.”

“Did you like the way it felt?”

“It was weird, I don’t know. It was sort of like a tickle.” You shrug. “I used the vibrator much more than the dildo.”

“Why?”

“Vibrator is easier to clean up after.”

“Didn’t you want somethin’ inside?”

“I just used my fingers.” He takes a second to imagine you just fucking yourself out and it makes him smile. You swat a hand at him. “Stop thinking about it.”

“S’not what I was doin’.”

“Sure.” You smirk. “You’d really want to use it on me?”

“I don’t know, I think I’d get jealous of anythin’ else makin’ ya moan actually.” He laughs.

“Definitely going to use it then.” You kiss him on the cheek and go back to pulling things out of the closet. “Jesus, why do I have so many clothes?!” You groan.

“You really don’t know why?” He chuckles, pulling more of his clothes out. “You buy a new outfit every time you have an event to go to.”

“I rewear a lot of my clothes.”  

“Babe.”

“I’m allowed to buy new things.” You pout.

“True, but you could donate the things you don’t wear anymore.”

“But I wear all of this stuff. And some of it is nostalgic.” You pull out a lace, pink dress. “This is my favorite dress to wear in the spring. I’ve had it for years. I’m keeping it until it doesn’t fit. And my Nannie bought me this sweater, gotta keep that.”

“Didn’t say ya had to decide now.” He gets back under the bed to pull out another box.

“Careful with that!” He opens it after setting it on the bed.

“Oh, your blankies.”

You grab the one on top and just rub it against your cheek, closing your eyes for a second. You sigh and set it back closing the box. Harry gives you a funny look.

“They, um, still smell like the detergent my Papa used to use. Sorry, that was weird.”

“S’okay. It was cute. How long did you sleep with them for.”

“Way too long.” You giggle. “Brought them to college with me. I only put them away because they started falling apart and I didn’t want them getting worse. I’d be devastated if something ever happened to them.”

“I can load up my car tomorrow mornin’ and bring a bunch of these boxes over. Can’t believe we’re almost fully moved.”

“I know! When did you want to take care of your desk and everything?”

“Maybe Friday? Niall could come over and help again.”

“That works.”

“Where we goin’ Saturday night by the way?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know?”

“I would actually, do I need to leave a suit out?”

“Oh.” You giggle. “Yeah, leave a suit for yourself. We’re going somewhere nice.”

“I’m excited to have a fancy evenin’ with ya, feels like it’s been a while since we went on, like, a date.”

“Every day with you feels like a romantic date, babe.”

“Stop it.” He tackles you to the bed and you both giggle.

//

You and Harry had brought over a lot of stuff to the new place. Friday after work him and Niall brought his desk and sofa over. Your brother would help with your bed next weekend. You couldn’t believe how bare your place had gotten. It was bittersweet.

Saturday morning you decided to make breakfast in bed for Harry. You made him avocado toast, one of his favorites. You had gotten him his favorite coffee. You came in with it and he sat up with a smile.

“Was wonderin’ where ya went.”

“Made you breakfast babe.” You place the tray over his lap.

“Birthday’s not til tomorrow, love.” He gives you a kiss on the cheek as you get back in next to him.

“I know, but it’s your birthday weekend, so I wanted to pamper you today. Besides, we’re doing super bowl stuff tomorrow at Niall’s, remember?”

“Oh right. You makin’ that buffalo cauliflower dip?”

“You know it!”

“Mm, this avocado is perfect, thank you.” He finishes eating and sets the tray on his bedside table. He takes a sip of the coffee and smiles. “Bought the good stuff I see.”

“Only the best for my baby.”

He chuckles and grabs his phone to check any notifications he may have. You get under the blanket and shuffle between his legs. You tug his boxers down slightly.

“What are you doin’ under there?”

“Nothing, carry on with your phone and coffee.” He chuckles but does as you say. He was still trying to wake up.

You tug his hardening dick out of his boxers. You give his tip a light kiss while you cup his balls.

“Oi!” He sets his coffee and phone down, and lifts the blanket up to look at you.

“Birthday blowjob.” You smile. A large grin grows on his face. “May I?”

“Please, proceed.”

He rubs your head as you kiss his tip again. You run your thumb over his slit and pump him a few times. His breath hitches and he tugs on your hair slightly. He’ll never make the mistake of tugging too hard on you again though. He never wants to know the pain of you chomping down on him again. You start by suckling on just the tip while you pump his base. He spreads his thighs farther apart for you and you take a little more of him into your mouth. You were going to take your time this morning. It was more about making him feel really good all over than it was about just getting him to come.

His hips move up slightly, signaling that he wants you to take more. You happily oblige, taking as much as you can. You start to bob up and down slowly, spit and precome seeping down to your chin. Harry’s head and eyes roll back.

“Fuck, feels so good.” He moans.

He feels you groan against him, and looks down as you bob faster. You look up at him, and the eye contact alone was enough to make him nut. The way you looked up at him through your eyelashes was so innocent.

“Jesus, fuck.”

You smirk and close your eyes. You hollow your cheeks and go down on him farther, his tip hitting the back of your throat. You gag slightly, only for a moment, but you continue. Your eyes were starting to water and you could barely breathe, but you didn’t care. You feel one of his hands rake through your hair. He clutches the blanket with his other hand. You were so good at this. In a brief moment of jealousy his mind wanders to how many men you may have practiced on. And in a brief moment of arousal he wondered if you ever practiced on a dildo.

“Shit, shit, Y/N, I’m gonna come.”

You brace yourself. A moment later his hot come splurts into your mouth. It shoots out faster than you were expecting, and you start to choke. You pull off him quickly and try to keep as much of it in your mouth as you can. You turn from him to catch your breath as you sit up. You swallow what you can and wipe the corners of your mouth and chin with your shirt.

“Sorry.” You say out of breath.

“Was a great blow job, love. Thank you.” He pulls his boxers all the way off. “Now then, let me get into that tight cunt of yours.”

“Harry!” You squeal as he rips your shirt off, and pins you to the mattress. He reaches between your legs.

“Got this wet from suckin’ me off?” He says into your ear, nibbling at the lobe.

“You’re so sexy, of course I got turned on.” You feel him smile against your neck.

You spread your legs apart for him, and wrap your hand back around his dick. You pump him to get him hard again. He winces at first, just from the sensitivity, but he relaxes into your touch. Once he’s good to go he presses into you. You let out a moan from the back of your throat, loving the way he stretches you out.

“Best feeling in the world.” You grip his shoulders.

“Feel the same way.” He kisses you, practically shoving his tongue down your throat.

//

You spent most of the morning and early afternoon in bed having sex in various ways. He went down on you a couple time, and fingered you a few times, and came in you twice. His stamina was impressive. Who knew birthday weekend sex could be so great?

“I need to shower and attempt to walk, I don’t want to look stupid tonight.” You giggle. He was playing with your boobs as he laid on your chest.

“Let me just suck on these some more.” He shifts and takes one of your nipples into his mouth and you wince.

“Babe, I’m so tender.” You grip his hair to pull him off.

“I have a question.”

“I’m sure I’ll have an answer.”

“When you get pregnant, will you have to take these out? I can’t imagine you can leave these in to breastfeed. Do you think you’ll even want to breastfeed? Oh, and what about your naval? Don’t you have to take that out when you’re pregnant?” You found it interesting that he said when and not if.

“Um, they make pregnancy piercings for your belly button.” You nearly want to gag at the thought of your belly button stretching when being pregnant. Not something they really tell you in school. “As for the nipple piercings, I have no idea. I’d probably have to take them out. I’d probably just pump and let the baby drink from the bottle. I don’t know how much milk I’ll be able to produce, those are all things you figure out after the baby comes.”

“Hm, interesting.”

“What made you think of that?”

“Just popped into my head while twistin’ it with me teeth.” He moves to kiss it again. “I quite like them, I’ve never dated a girl with pierced nipples before.”

“Really? That’s surprising.”

“You’re pretty surprisin’.” You kiss the top of his head.

“Alright, let me get up, hm? I need to wash my hair and all that.”

“But we’re having such a nice cuddle.” He whines.

“You can come shower with me. I’ll wash your hair how you like.”

“Deal.”

You get up from the bed, but your legs feel like jello and you inevitably lose your balance, toppling to the floor.

“Babe!” Harry jumps off the bed to help you up. He starts chuckling. “You alright?”

“Yeah, just lost my balance, I’m good.” You smile and shuffle into the bathroom.

You take your shower together, and Harry makes a small lunch for the both of you so you can dry your hair. You throw some curls into your hair and brush them out. You put your robe on and meet him in the kitchen.

“Whatcha make?”

“Leftover soup.”

“Mmm, perfect.” You both sit at the island and eat.

“Crazy how barren it is in here.”

“I know. I can’t wait to get into our new place, what a lucky find.”

“Your hair looks nice by the way.”

“Thank you sweetie.”

“Where are we goin’ tonight?”

“You’ll find out when we get there.”

“You’ll need to tell me where to go.”

“Harry, I’ll be driving us. In fact, I may even blindfold you.” You get up and clean both of your bowls.

“We could try that out now.” He smirks. You turn to look at him.

“Think we need to cool it for a bit, I’m a little sore.”

“Is your mouth sore?” Your jaw drops. “I’ll take that as a no.”

“You want me to suck your dick blindfolded?”

“No, I want you to blindfold me while you suck my dick.”

“Race you!”

You both run to the bedroom. Harry sits up against the headboard while you grab a scarf to wrap around his head. You tug his boxers off, he was already hard.

“So what does this do for you exactly?”

“It sort of heightens the senses.”

“Lay all the way down, flat.”

He shifts and you get between his legs. You think for a second before you touch him.

“Oh wait! I have something kind of fun.”

“Only saw two things for you in that box of yours.”

“Oh shut up, I’m not talking about a toy.” You go over to your bed side table drawer and dig through it. “Ah ha! Knew I still had some.”

“Some what?”

“Flavored lube.”

“What flavor is it?”

“Cherry-vanilla. It tastes really good.” You dab a little on your finger. “Open your mouth.” He sticks his tongue out and sucks your finger in.

“Wow, that does taste good. Bet it would taste better on your-“

“I’m doing you, now be quiet.” You get back between his legs. “This is going to be cold at first, sorry.”

You squirt the lube right onto his dick, he shutters at first, but your hand starts to work up and down his shaft, your thumb rubbing over his slit. He takes a deep breath as he feels goosebumps raise all over his body. He wanted to see your small hand wrapped around him, but he also liked being blindfolded. He could picture anything. Right now, you both were on a sandy, private beach. You had a loose, string bikini on, and he was butt-ass naked on a large towel.

You start suckling on his tip and you moan at how good the lube tastes. You take more of him into your mouth and suck on him harder. Harry grips the sheets, careful not to grab at your hair because he knew you had just done it. His toes curl slightly when he hears you moan again. He thrusts up, hitting the back of your throat. Your hands grip his hips, and your nails dig into his skin.

“Takin’ me so well, angel.”

You look up at him. His mouth was parted and his chest was moving up and down rapidly. He looked so sexy. His chest was laced with sweat and he was white knuckling the sheets. His tip continued to hit the back of your throat but you didn’t care. Your tongue was too busy lapping around him.

“Shit, Y/N.” He groans. You don’t let up, you bob up and down on him with a quicker pace. “Baby, feels so good.”

He was starting to pant, you weren’t sure if he was ever like this before. Maybe being blindfolded really did heighten the senses. He sucks in a large breath as he comes into your mouth. You swallow all of it, and sit back on your heels. He lays there for a moment trying to catch his breath. He slowly removes the scarf from around his head and looks at you.

“That was incredible.” You both start laughing. “Let me get some of that on you.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope, it’s my birthday weekend, let me do what I want.”

“Don’t want you to spoil your dinner.” You wink at him and get off the bed. “I certainly feel full.” You sit down at your desk and open your laptop. “Just need to finish up some homework babe.”

“Sure thing, might close my eyes for a bit.”

A couple of hours later Harry is woken up by the beautiful sound of your voice. You were already dressed. You had a tight black dress on, with a sweetheart neckline. You had Harry’s rose ring around your neck how you both liked. Your make up was done up as well. You did it similar to how it was at your work party.

“Wow.” He said cupping your cheek.

“Wanted to let you sleep as long as possible.”

“You look so beautiful.”

“Thank you sweetie.”

Harry gets up and puts his suit on. He looked so handsome, as always. You grab your purse and put your long jacket on. He sees you slip on black heels.

“Won’t your feet be cold, love?”

“We won’t be out for very long, it’s fine.” You smile at him and take his hand.

Harry half expected you to bring him to Niall’s for a surprise party, or a large bar, but he was genuinely surprised when you pulled up to the tapas place you went to on your first date. You hadn’t been back since. His heart was going to explode.

“We went here on our first date.”

“Mhm.” You smile big at him. “I know how much you like it here. We haven’t been since we met.”

When you get out of the car you run around and open his door for him, you both giggle. You give the hostess your name, and she shows you to your table just a couple minutes later.

“Do you remember what we ate that night?” You ask him.

“We had flatbread.” He smiles.

“Mhm, and you picked half the goat cheese off.” He puts his hand over yours and gives it a squeeze.

“The perfect date, wasn’t it?”

“I thought about you all night when I get home. When you texted me that night I had such butterflies.”

“Did you have a good feeling about me?”

“I did. I knew Niall wouldn’t set me up with a jerk. Of course, I didn’t imagine this all going so well.” You take a sip of water. “I honestly didn’t think I deserved someone as wonderful as you. I mean, you waited patiently for me for four months.”

“I waited for you longer than that, m’whole life actually.”

Before you can say anything a waiter comes over. You each order drinks and some plates to share. Another waiter comes over with your drinks, and you clink them.

“Happy almost twenty-sixth birthday, Harry.”

“Thanks babe.” You each take a sip of your drink. “This is so great, just a simple dinner with my girl.”

“I love being your girl.” You coo.

The food is delicious. The two of you reminisce more about the earlier days of your relationship. Many laughs were shared. You grip your bag and put it in your lap. The check comes and you put your credit card down.

“This is the only time I’m not gonna put up a fight about you payin’.”

“Good.”

You reach for something else in your bag, but you decide against it. You wanted to give Harry his present in private, maybe in the car. You could give him his card here though.

“Here.” You hand him the card. He smiles big as he takes it from you. You see his eyes start to water.

“That was lovely thank you. I love you too.”

“I was thinking we could go somewhere else for dessert, maybe grab another drink?”

“Sure, I’m up for that.”

“Great!”

You both leave and get back in your car. You rummage through your bag and you grip your gift for him.

“I wanna give you your present now, would that be alright?”

“You mean the incredible sex all day and dinner wasn’t it?”

“No, you goober.” You both laugh. “When we were in London, and we went to that jewelry store, you mentioned how you used to wear pearls, and how you had to sell your favorite necklace.” You pull out a box and he gasps.

“You didn’t.”

“I looked up the store online and they had an online shop available. I asked Niall to show me an older picture of you wearing the necklace. It’s not an exact replica, but it’s close.” You hand the box to him.

He looks at you then down to the box. He opens it slowly, and he smiles. Tears prick at his eyes. He holds up the pearl necklace, and looks at you.

“Would you, um, put it on me?”

“Of course.”

He turns slightly in the seat so you can clasp it for him. He adjusts it under his collar and looks in the mirror of the visor.

“It’s perfect, it’s better than perfect.” A few tears slip down his cheeks. “Thank you so much. This is one of the nicest things anyone has ever done for me.” He cups your cheeks in his hands and brings you in for a passionate, deep kiss. “I love you so much.” He kisses you again.

“I love you too, Harry.” You kiss him back just as deeply. “It looks so nice on you.” You twist it gently in between your fingers.

“M’never takin’ it off.” He kisses you again. “Alright, enough of the blubberin’, where are we goin’ for dessert?”

“A bar not too far from here.”

You put the car in drive and head for it. You and Harry had never been here before. He kept an arm around your waist as you walked in. His jaw immediately dropped.

“SURPRISE!”

[blueseasfanfics]

11 from the prompt list with sherlock? :)

Probably Not

Pairing: Sherlock x Reader

Word Count: 1979

Prompt 11: “Can you stop being so arrogant for once?”“Not when it’s keeping us both alive.” (Request a prompt from here!)

A/N: Cute moments near the end, I think my inner detective just came out. Enjoy either way.

“I’m bored.” Sherlock yells from his chair, where he’s currently sitting upside down.“That’s your own fault.” You call back as you write down notes about the eyeballs you’ve been keeping under lamps. It was exciting to experiment with something (in this case, how direct light affects the decomposition of eyes) that Sherlock hadn’t done yet. “No it’s not. I’m bored because you turned down a perfectly good case without even consulting me.” He rolls to his feet, grabbing the violin that’s in the fireplace.“Oh, stop pouting. I didn’t even turn it down, I solved it. No time of yours wasted.”“If you were able to solve it, then maybe it wasn’t worth my intellect anyway.” He starts screeching on his violin, not even trying to make a tune.“You’re one word away from having no intellect at all.”“Word.”You’re about to throw a half rotten eye at his head when there’s a knock on the door. Sherlock throws his violin on the chair and whips open the door, looking at the man on the other side of the door up and down.“Scottish, past experience of a horrible boxer, you have a dog that you detest, and probably either wanting me to help you save your menial office job or something else not worth my time.” Sherlock stamps back to his violin, picking it back up and starting to play the screams of demons again. You pop up in the door, the mans face still looking stunned, and you shake his still out-reached hand.“He could tell you’re Scottish because you suit is by Walker-Slater, your ears are more cauliflowered than your hands, there’s only dog hair around your ankles and only some dirt at the sleeves, and you don’t have the tan of someone able to take vacations or go outside much. Welcome, and come in.” You smile at the man, and usher him onto the couch.Sherlock glares at him, then at you.“You said you were bored. Stop with the violin and listen, maybe it’s interesting.” You hiss at him and he rolls his eyes, but throws the violin back on the chair.“What’s the issue? The wife having an affair? Brother-in-law stealing your money? Nosy landlord?” You can sense Sherlock is already losing patience.The man takes a deep breath, then shakily leans forward.“There’s three dead bodies in my home and I think was my son that did it.”You can sense Sherlock getting excited, as he leans forward too.“Dead bodies? Women, children, men, government officials? How long have they been there for? Do you have pictures?” Sherlock is talking faster and faster.“I-I don’t know! I woke up, there’s two men and a lady propped up on my table chairs, my son has high-tailed it and I’ve no idea where the bampot is.” “So the case is find your son?” You ask and the man grimaces.“Naw, just make sure the bodies don’t bite me in the arse. I’ll pay you good, ish. The best I can do.”“I don’t care about the money, where are the bodies now?” Sherlock is standing up and already putting his coat on.“Well still in my home, I locked up and pulled curtains and all that- ey, where are you going?” The man calls out after Sherlock has already ran out the front door. You sigh, grabbing your own coat.“He does that. If you could kindly write down the address, I would much appreciate it.” You smile at the man again, holding out a piece of paper.—–You’re currently sitting next to Sherlock in the train, reading while he stares out the window.“You aren’t as smart as I am.” He pipes up after a while, and you roll your eyes.“No, Sherlock, I would think that’s obvious to man of your high intellect.” You snark.“It is. Which is why I wonder how you could explain to the woman about my deductions.”“It was a man, a very nice man named Mr. Reid. I was able to do it because living with you has more effects on me than a constant headache.”“Oh, really?” Sherlock grabs your book and tosses it to the other bench.“Hey!”“Shush. That girl over there with her husband. She’s having an affair with the man across from her. Tell me why.”You look to the girl he’s talking about, who’s sitting with an older man who keeps talking into his phone and has his arm across her shoulders. She looks utterly bored, and across from them both is a young man in a navy suit, reading a newspaper.“Her ring.” You say after a minute.“Explain.”“It’s very ornate. Looks loose on her finger, something that rich would be fitted properly, and the man across from her has a slight tan mark the same shape of the ring. Can I have my book back now.”You glance back at Sherlock, and he’s staring at you, leaning on the table in front of him and a finger twitching on his lip.“Maybe you’re not as idiotic as I thought.”“Probably not.” You reach over and grab your book.“But you wouldn’t have noticed it if I hadn’t had brought it up first.”“Probably not.” You flip back to your page and start reading again.“Do you think you can solve this case faster than me?”“Probably.”“You missed the ‘not’.”“No I didn’t.”“Is this a challenge?”“You’re the one with superior intellect, figure it out.”“Challenge accepted.”“You owe me a tea when I solve it first.”“And you owe me the pleasure of hearing you say I’m the smartest man you know to everyone you talk to.”“They already know you are.”“Hearing it from your lips makes it better.”“Deal, then.”Sherlock goes back to looking out the window, and the rest of the train ride is uneventful.—–Mr. Reid has let you both into his house, and it fidgeting nervously in the archway to his dining room where the bodies are still sat at the table.Sherlock is kneeling next to the woman, who looks to be in her middle years, her dusty red resting on the table in front of her.“This exactly how they were when I left, if a bit more rigid.” Mr. Reid pipes up.“It’s called rigor mortis. These were found at around 8 in the morning, and it’s about 1 in the afternoon now, so they must have been placed right before you awoke. Your son was already gone by then, you said?” Mr. Reid nods.“Aye, 16. Eunan. Completely gone, no one’s seen him but not sure who would notice really.” He mutters, “You know, the kid-”“Shut up. Shut up, the both of you. And your dog. Shut him up too.” Sherlock snaps up to his feet and starts walking around the table wildly.“Sherlock, the dog isn’t making a sound.”“Shut up.”You roll your eyes as Sherlock brushes past you again, basically running out the front door.Your phone dings seconds later.“I’m winning.” The text from Sherlock says, and you run out the door after him.—-“Sherlock, why would you come back to the train depot.” You pant, catching up to Sherlock who’s crouched down behind the station, picking up bits of red dirt and holding it up to the sun.“I thought you were going to solve the case before I did.” He simply says, before putting a bit of the dirt on his tongue.“Why are you eating dirt?!”“I’m collecting evidence.”“I’m collecting evidence that you’ve actually gone off the deep end.”“You seem blinder by the second. Actually look around.”Sighing, you look. You’re both hidden behind the small town station, the tracks and entrance on the other side, the only door going inside the station was a small employee door without a window. Red dirt and rocks covered the whole lot, until succumbing to grass. It stuck to your shoes and Sherlock’s knees, like the womans hands.“The bodies came from here.”“Took long enough. Now where the son is is another question.”“There isn’t one.”Sherlock looks up at you.“Oh? And how did you come to that conclusion?”“His son is supposed to be a teenager, no? What kind of father doesn’t want to find his possible murderer teenage son? And the table only had one placemat, the others were dusty. There hasn’t been another in a long time.”“Precisely! So who could it have been if there was no son?” Sherlock leaps to his feet and grabs you by the arms.“Well, the Mr. Reid obviously. You act as if you knew this already.”“Of course I did, as soon as I saw the bodies. Covered in the dust, too heavy for anyone other than a past boxer to drag all the way back home. I knew it from the minute I saw the dirt, I just needed confirmation.”“How are you going to get confirmation? It’s not like we go back and he just confesses-”From behind you, there’s the sound of a shotgun cocking, and your eyes widen as Sherlock’s grin does.“Mr. Reid, I’m sure there’s a perfectly logical way to end this.” You whirl around, seeing the past boxer aiming a shotgun at the both of you.“Thought if I could fool the best detective in Britain and his little friend, assistant, lover, whoever you are, I would be free to get rid of them stinking up my house. But now I guess I just got two more to figure out what to do with.”Sherlock grabs your hand and leans down to whisper in your ear.“Run.”You both turn around, away from him and bolt off like a shot, and you hear the heavy steps of Mr. Reid following you close behind. You turn around to look at him, but suddenly all you see is Sherlock’s chest as whips around a corner and is currently hiding you both behind an abandoned tractor, his arms wrapped around your waist and keeping you up against him.“What do we do now?” You hiss up at him.“No no, I won. I solved the case first. Hold up your end of the deal.”“Can you stop being so arrogant for once?”“Not when it’s keeping us both alive.”“Oh, yeah, getting the killer to chase us to an almost empty field with a shotgun is keeping us alive.” “Of course it is. I called Grant while you took forever to get here, he called the police here. They probably got him before we even got to this truck.”“You mean Greg. And what? Then why are we still back here, let me go, you bloody-” You start trying to get out of his embrace, but he only allows you the luxury of not being right up against his chest.“Not until you hold up your end of the deal.” “I’m supposed to tell others, not you. You’re the one who made the deal.”“I remember. But I’ll let you out of it if you just tell me, no need for other conversation with these idiots who don’t know a murderer when they see one.”“You’re very rude.”“There’s something else I am.”You sigh, turning back towards him and crossing your arms in front of your chest.“You’re the smartest man I know. Now let me go.”He chuckles a little, before pulling you against him again and leaning close to your ear.“And you’re the smartest woman I know.” He lets you go and you quickly turn away to hide a blush.“You get really odd after solving a case.” You mutter.“That I do.”“I shouldn’t have accepted Johns’ offer to stay with you two.”“Probably not.”

————-

TAGLIST (Message to be added!)

@fuckthatfeeling@drakesfiance@ihavenofilter@nalokoniloki@forthesnakeofdragons@astridanalisenightshade@kcd15@insane-fangirl-of-sorts@hiddlestonstansworld

Want a way longer, just for you, personalized story, character, or world? Simply buy one of these cheap tiers of 2k, 3k, or 5k words HERE and I will write any prompt you wish! Thank you for the support. (A/N I still accept prompts on here! All of them will be shorter than 2k words.)

[enchantment1385]

OC Interview Meme

I was tagged by the gorgorgus @heraldofwho , the great @dickeybbqpit and the wonderful @dinah-myles  Thank you, you darling people! 

1. What is your name? I will answer to, Commander smexy, Captain awesome, “Oi!”, or begrudgingly  Hero of Ferelden... I bet if i’d made Alistair king he’d have given me a better bloody name... 

2. What is your real name? Jereth Amell... I have a middle name too... But the blight will take me before I tell you what it is.

3. Do you know why you were called that?  Not a bloody clue. 

4. Are you single or taken? I’m banging the divine. He says while doing finger guns.

5. Have any abilities or powers? You have HEARD of me, right? I killed a dragon! And not just any old dragon, a mind controlling, blight infested, BIG bastard! Makers shiny arse, I was sore after that fight... Sodding thing fell on me when I poked it with the sword!

6. Stop being a Mary Sue If that’s code for ‘awesome’, that’s just plain impossible I’m afraid. 

7. What’s your eye colour? He goes cross eyed trying to look at his own eyes. Well, they were blue, but this many years after my genlock cocktail, they’re a bit grey... But I’m gonna fix that! ... I think...

8. How about your hair colour? Are you saying I’m going grey?! Cause... That’s just some dead stuff that didn’t wash out last time... 

9. Have you any family members? Got mum and dad, but I haven’t seen them in years though. Bastard templars swooped me off to the circle when I was a kid, see?  Oh! And apparently the bloke who became Kirkwall’s champion is my cousin!  Ha! Small bloody world, huh? I bet the chanty are shitting their small clothes over 2 mages saving their ass--- Oohhh.... Jus .... Just scratch out that last bit...

10. Oh? What about pets? Unfortunately, we lost Barkspawn a few years back. Gotta say that was a bad day. We all ended up getting trashed at the keep and playing fetch while we cried. It was surprisingly soothing. Good news is I recently got, Gen. Blightballs! He’s a good boy. 

11. That’s 🆒 I guess, now tell me about something you don’t like. Spiders, morrigan, the blight, morrigan, caves, morrigan, the cold, too much heat, The fucking deeproads, morrigan, making decisions, walking, hills, bastard trees that don’t do poetry, most Templars, spells backfiring, stepping in dog shit, annnnnd cauliflower. He takes a sip of drink.  To be fair, morrigan ain’t all bad... She’s just a very special type of psycho. 

12. Do you have any hobbies/activities you like doing?   Uuuuuhhhhhhh.... He looks totally confused and scratches his chin. You know what they don’t tell you when you join the wardens, apart from EVERYTHING?  No one ever mentions how becoming a warden will destroy life’s simple pleasures, like sleep for instance. I used to like a good kip, but now, not so bloody much. Imagine the most bloody weird cheese induced dream you’ve ever had and magnify that shit by infinity and you’re close to an average night.  Food is still good, so I guess eating? And playing with Blightballs, of course. 

13. Ever hurt anyone before? Can I count myself? Because if so, definitely. Regularly even. 

14. Ever… killed anyone before? Oh, probably. I don’t really pay much too much attention in fights if I’m honest.  I find if I don’t even know my own tactics, no enemy can find a weakness when they fight me either.

15. What kind of animal are you? A mabari! I’m strong, proud, cute, and I occasionally piss up against a wall. 

16. Name your worst habits. Personally, I’d say none, Nate doesn’t like it when I name my belly button lint , especially at dinner, but he can be a real bloody killjoy at times. 

17. Do you look up to anyone at all? Sten? I had to look up to him. He was a right big bugger. And Shale too. 

18. Gay, straight, or bisexual? I like to bury my head in breasts... So straight, i guess... But if men had boobs, I could be swayed... possibly. *nods*

19. Do you go to school? They shoved me in the circle who... Tried to teach us some stuff?

20. Do you ever want to marry and have kids one day? I got a kid...Apparently... Morrigan buggered off through a mirror. Sigh. Then all of a sudden in MY fault for going missing! I’m not missing! I know exactly where I am!

21. Do you have any fanboys/fangirls? Hero. Of. Ferelden, dude. What do you think?  Of course, I haven’t let any of that go to my head... I was already handsome and charming. 

22. What are you most 😨 of? Pfftt. Blight spiders? Ghost wizards? Ghost spider wizards of blight? 

23. What do you usually wear? The same bloody thing I’ve been wearing for a decade now. So bored of mages armour. I suggested something a bit more fancy, but they others didn’t go for it. I guess I do love the shiny griffon though. I’ve named mine. 

24. Do you 💛 someone?  Yup.

25. When was the last time you wet yourself? What day is it today?

26. Well, it’s not over yet! Why do the good things in life never go on and on like this... *drags hands down his face.* 

27. What class are you? (High class, middle class, low class) I’m chaos class. Yeahhh. Take that. *folds arms and looks smug*

28. How many friends do you have? I dunno... I never counted them? Was... Was that required?

29. What are your thoughts on pie? Fuck - Yes. More pie! Pie for everyone! Hero of pie day! 

30. Favourite drink? Whatever that stuff that Anders and Oghren cooked up a few years back. We called it - The kick in the tit.  .... We were all still suffering the after images of the ‘mother’ and her many, MANY nipples. The name seemed fitting. 

31. What’s your favourite place? In a tavern, with ann ale in hand, in front of a fire, with my head shoved between a pair of boobs. 

32. Are you interested in someone? Huh? Sorry, I wasn’t listening. I was still back at the tavern...

33. What’s your bra cup size and/or how big is your willy? Huge and girthy of course! I’m a living legend. 

34. Would you rather swim in the lake or the ocean? None. I jumped the out the window a few times in the tower to avoid the pissed off Templars who I’d spent a week winding up, so I’m done swimming in sodding lakes for one lifetime!  And have you seen the ocean? Do you have ANY idea about what crazy shit live in there? Cause 10 years ago I’d have put money on the fact Big ass dragon didn’t live underground. But I’d have been wrong, and then I would have lost 20 silver to my fellow warden. ... What was the question, again?

35. What’s your type? When I was single? The ones who said yes.

36. Any fetishes? The thing with the pirate wench and Leliana was pretty much it. *happy sigh* It’s good to be me. 

37. Seme or uke? Top or Bottom? Dominant or Submissive? I do whatever Leliana wants, because I’m scared I won’t wake up the next morning otherwise. 

38. Camping or indoors? Indoors.  When I’m done on this trip I’m burning every sodding tent I ever see. I am DONE sleeping on the floor. 

39. Are you wanting the interview to end? Yes, I’ve eaten the free biscuits you gave me and I need a piss. Sorry - pee. 

40. Now it’s over! Great... Which way to the latrine? 

Tagging: @keeperscompanionsdai @dreadhobo @goldfishfiasco @sassylavellen @gugle1980 @fade-footprints @tessa1972 @john-cousland @ielmoe @inquisitorsmabari @long-liv-prairies

[lauryntolyon]

Differences in France (Food Edition)

So I have been in France for a month now and I officially feel like I can start talking about some of the differences I’ve seen here.

Breakfast: Breakfast here isn’t super different from the United States. The main difference I see is that everyone here wants something on the sweet side: Nutella, cereal, fruit, etc.  My host mom mentioned that she though the idea of eating cheese and meat for breakfast was crazy, since in her opinion they are very heavy things to eat as your first meal. For me I’d never thought of meat and cheese as heavy foods. It’s super common in my house to eat bread, meat, and cheese for breakfast. The one staple for breakfast here as you can probably guess is bread. The bread is so good here. You can get good bread in the U.S. too, but you can’t get it - freshly baked an hour ago at all times of the day - in the United States. There is nothing better than having slightly warm - fresh baguette in the morning.    

Lunch/Dinner: Eating here was a bigger change than I was expecting. The main meals aren’t that different, the thing that makes French meals different is the way you eat them. Here every meal (breakfast isn’t included in this) consists of an appetizer, entree, cheese/dairy, and dessert. For example my lunch at school today consisted of: a plate of salami and a pickle (appetizer), fish and cauliflower with parsley (entree), a little block of cheese (kind of like The Laughing Cow cheese)(dairy), and a piece of marbled chocolate/vanilla cake (dessert).

> (This isn’t the meal described above but one from another day) <

This is very different for me since I’m used to smaller meals without the dairy and dessert part that comes with French meals. Often when I eat here it takes a long time since there are so many courses to get through. Whoever said that French people eat small portions forgot to mention that there are way more of them. I feel like I eat more here than I eat in the U.S. on normal days, which I though was funny seeing that the U.S. is known for our outrageous portion sizes. This leads me into my next topic....

Leftovers:  The main thing about food here that bothers me is how much waste there is. No one eats leftovers here. The only time I have ever seen someone save anything is when there was enough left over for the whole family to eat it again as a meal. And when it comes to going out to eat there is absolutely no taking home any food you haven’t finished. I don’t even think that restaurants have the supplies for you to do that if you wanted to. This is hard for me, I come from a family where you eat something until there is none left or it has gone bad. I don’t even like leftovers but still every time I see my host mom scoop the last of the meal we have had into the trash it hurts my heart a little bit. All I can hear is the little Tiffani ( my mother ) in the back of my head chastising me about how there is still a whole other meal left. 

Snacks: Here in France the eating schedule usually goes:

               7:10 am - Eat Breakfast 

              12:00 pm - Eat Lunch 

               8:30 pm - Eat Dinner 

Notice that long amount of time between lunch and dinner? Yeah, my stomach does too. French people don’t snack. This is something that I still find a bit hard. I’m used to eating some sort of snack between 3:30 pm and 5:30 pm, your standard after school snacking. The French do have something called goûter which could be translated to “tea time” this is a sweet snack eaten around 4:00 pm by younger children. I’ve also seen people my age buy a goûter after lunch (to me this seems counter productive for solving hunger later, seeing as you have already eaten lunch but you do you). I have no idea how French adults can stand to not eat anything between lunch and dinner and still manage to be nice to others. I have also observed that French people seem to have a bit of a sweet tooth, in the U.S. if I’m going to snack on something it’s going to be something salty and crunchy but here it is always something sweet. People here always choose cookies, gummies, sweet bread, etc. (You have no idea how hard it was to find just a bag of pretzels). 

Water: I don’t understand how France doesn’t have a large problem with dehydration. French cups are like glorified shot glasses. If you look back at the picture of lunch up above you can see the size of French cups. Whenever I sit down for a meal I feel like I’m constantly refilling my glass while the French people have barely even touched their cup. I can’t tell if they just drink throughout the day and just not very much at meals or if they just don’t drink very much at all. The first time I noticed this I wondered if maybe I’m just someone who drinks a lot of water, but after talking to the other Americans about it they had realized the lack of water consumption too.