#Absolutely lost in the sauce tonight

[starfoam]

She just woke up, what's happening?

[futurecorps3]

𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐬

Masterlist<3

Summary: Sirius and reader plan a romantic dinner for a very tired Remus Pairing: Poly!wolfstar x reader Warnings: mentions of sex and that’s all, I think! It's fluff and post!war where absolutely nothing went wrong because Reggie was a spy for the Order just like in canon duh Word Count: 1.4K Requested: No

Sirius leaned against the kitchen counter, a playful twinkle in his eyes, and said, "You know, love, if our cooking skills don't impress Moony tonight, at least our charm will do the trick." Y/N laughed, adding a bit more salt to the pasta they had been working on for about an hour now.

"Bet your pretty smile and my dazzling gaze will be fit enough… I really hope he likes it though," she mumbled that last part, feeling a pair of arms round her from the back. "I'm sure he'll love it," Sirius whispered, kissing his girl's cheek and moving on to whisk the eggs for the brownies they were baking for dessert.

It was Remus' first year as a professor of Defense Against the Dark Arts at Hogwarts. He had started the charge right after the war ended, and the trio had settled into a lovely flat on Eaton Square—a two-story building bought with Black family money. ("One thing my mum and dad will be good for!" Sirius had said back when he bought it.) They were slowly transforming it into a home. During the war, they realized they had the power to turn even a cavern into a warm place, as long as the three of them were together.

For the past week, Remus had come home absolutely drained. When he jumped into bed or the couch with them, he'd fall asleep right away and still wake up tired. Sirius and Y/N were aware that he was struggling to adapt to new routines; going from spending all his time with the people he almost lost to teaching six classes a day with minimal breaks was becoming challenging for him.

He'd adjust eventually and would be back to his old self, but for now, their boy was tired, and all they wanted was to treat him with every ounce of love and care he deserved. So, when Remus told them that he'd be coming home earlier that Friday, they decided to go all out with a romantic home-cooked dinner.

"Can you try this? I-I think it's a bit insipid," she said, stirring the cream-based sauce that was ready to serve, pouring a bit onto the back of her hand for Sirius to lick. His tongue gathered the liquid, and his eyes opened in shock. "That's amazing! D-don't change anything; it's perfect, baby," he smiled, grabbing the spoon from his girlfriend and taking more of it into his mouth, directly from the spoon to then place it back inside the boiling pot.

He either didn't mind or didn't think about it; knowing him, it was probably the latter. "Sirius, no!" she half-scolded while laughing, slapping his shoulder playfully. "Wouldn't be the first time my saliva is in either yours or Moony's mou- oi!" he snickered as the girl assaulted him again, all tiny hands against his broad figure. "You're disgusting," Y/N smiled, walking over to the dining table where a white tablecloth was set.

While the noodles cooked and her boyfriend danced to Queen while baking their last course planned for the night, she set the table. Y/N knew her boys to perfection, and Remus had always appreciated neat and aesthetically pleasing settings for their dates, and while this was not exactly one, she wanted it all to be perfect. Before coming home from a job interview that day, she stopped by and bought some candles and a nice bottle of wine; red. He loved red wine.

As she picked the bottle, she wondered how many bottles they'd collect as time passed and their flat became truly theirs. She smiled.

"Love, the water's doing it again…" she heard Sirius warn in a quiet panic and almost giggled. "Just stir them for a bit and turn off the stove; they're almost done," the girl reassured as she placed the brand-new silverware Regulus and James had gotten them when they first moved in neatly over the tablecloth, right next to the plates and careful that no wax could reach them when the candles eventually melted.

When all places were set and ready to be occupied—a bouquet of red roses and baby's breath in Remus', courtesy of their boyfriend—she returned to the kitchen. Her pasta was done, and brownies were in the oven. She found Sirius cleaning his rings, which he hadn't bothered to take off and were now covered in flour, delicate fingers gently scrubbing off the white powder.

Y/N took in the sight of him. He was going on about something that happened to him on the way home, about how he fought a lady for Moony's bouquet or something. She really didn't care when he looked like that. His long, black hair was tied in a messy bun with his wand, with a few strands falling out, a Rolling Stones t-shirt he turned into a crop top let a glimpse of his v-line show, as if it was purposely teasing his girlfriend, jeans hanging low and covered in flour.

Fuck. She scored. "… and so I told he- what are you doing?" he questioned when approached. Y/N stepped between the sink and his body, looking up at him while biting her lip. He felt her fingers hook on the empty belt loops of his pants, making him press flush against her body. "You're too pretty for this world; did you know that? Who gave you permission, Sirius? Do you think it's okay to be this perfect and just… exist like you're not this gorgeous?" she asked in all seriousness, making him blush and snicker at her flirting.

They were always like that with each other. Always flirting. Always trying to make each other blush. That, until Remus stepped in and made them both blush, fluster, and giggle like twelve-year-olds who just pecked someone else's lips for the first time.

"Careful. My brownies are still in the oven, and Moony won't take long in getting home," he warned, his eyes darkening a bit. "And?" she teased, scratching the bit of stomach exposed he displayed. "And if I bend you over-the-counter right now, dessert will be ruined, Remus will get too distracted in punishing us, and dinner will never happen. Just be patient," he groaned, stroking her face and kissing the corner of her lips, turning to clean his hands once again.

She ran her hands through his chest and screamed into his back in frustration, making his chest bubble with laughter. Right after, keys jingled in the front door, and they were both quickly at the door, smiling at each other like they held some secret intel Remus could never know about, and in some sense, they did.

Their boyfriend walked through the door, looking at them like they had grown two heads as he discarded his coat and boots by the door. "Well, hello," he smirked, walking over them and kissing their lips gently. "Are you baking something? I thought we'd do that on Saturday when Harry came over," he asked, trying to peek over their heads before Y/N pulled his head down with both her hands on his cheeks.

"We've got a surprise. Go change into something more comfortable and meet us in the dining hall." She smiled. "Dining hall?" Remus laughed, shaking his head as he felt electricity running through him with the information. Sirius remained serious as he nodded at their girlfriend's statement. "Yes, the dining hall, dear. Now go, c'mon," he encouraged, patting his shoulders as he walked away.

They used the time he took in putting some joggers and a shirt on to serve the pasta and place it on the table. Pads took care of the wine and looked up giddily at their boy paddling through the floor in disbelief. "Come sit." Y/N smiled gently, having changed the record to The Rise and Fall of Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars; Remus' favorite. "Oh, I absolutely despise you both," he said, running a scarred hand through his curls as he approached the table with a soft smile playing on his lips.

Remus eyed the food, the table, and the soft music playing in the background, somehow managing to keep it together. Until he saw the flowers. He picked them up and looked at his partners with utter adoration in his eyes. "Fuck you," he laughed as tears prickled his eyes, making his boyfriend and girlfriend walk over to him to engulf him in a tight hug.

He felt safe and protected, even when he was very clearly towering over both of them. "We know you've been having a hard time coping with change, so we wanted to do something special for you," Y/N mumbled against his chest, stroking his back comfortingly. "The things I cooked might be shit… know I made them with a lot of love though," Sirius joked, kissing Remus' cheeks, which left a salty taste in his mouth. Moony laughed airily.

Surrounded by the warmth of his partners, Remus felt a surge of emotion. It wasn't just relief; it was a profound sense of belonging. Y/N's lips pressed against his cheek, leaving a lingering warmth, while Sirius's hand ruffled his hair in a gesture that felt both affectionate and familiar. "Come on, or it'll get cold."

They sat at the table, humming to the tunes playing in the background as they rambled about their day, sharing minutes of comfortable silence accompanied by loving glances out of nowhere. After the war ended, this is what they longed for. The trio would never forget how they fantasized about simpler times while laying on icy surfaces or in the woods, praying to whoever was willing to listen for a crumb of grace and a bit of luck to find solace after all that was done with.

As their eyes locked, there was an unspoken promise of enjoying the one thing they dreamed of a few years ago lingering in the air. They were giving themselves and each other a gentler life, a kinder environment, and a safe haven they could always go to. A safe haven with great pasta.

"Shit, dove… this is amazing! Where's the recipe from?" Remus exclaimed, resisting the urge to lick the plate and limiting himself to only gathering the leftover sauce with his fork like a civilized person. "I called Effie.” "Bless her soul," Sirius groaned in a solemn tone, licking the plate. Moony chuckled and drank the last bit of his wine as Y/N playfully scolded him. How he loved them, he thought.

Y/N slipped off her shoes and started prancing around to the music with a glass of wine on her way to serve dessert, a pair of warm smiles beaming at her going unnoticed as she was too lost in the beats. She paid attention to the plating, so she grabbed the small plates they had with tiny flowers on them and sprinkled some powdered sugar on top of the brownies her boyfriend baked.

"Here you go." She smiled, kissing both Sirius' and Remus' cheeks as she put the plates in front of them after putting hers on the place, sitting back down the next second. They bit into the pastry at the same time Padfoot waited for their verdict. "So? How'd I do?" He asks, in a concerned state his partners found hilarious, seeing how seriously he was taking the whole situation.

Y/N's expression turned into a disgusted frown as she chewed but quickly replaced it with a smile, making the change obvious to Sirius. "What was that!?" the black-haired boy said with wide eyes, taking a bite off the dessert himself and frowning when he actually found it good. "Come on love, it can't be that bad," Remus said, biting into his piece and closing his eyes in disgust in a very exaggerated manner.

"The-they're good, baby." She smiles, leaving the large piece untouched in her plate as she looked at him with sympathetic eyes. "I tried them; I did a bloody great job, so don't co-". His partners erupted in laughter. Moony almost cried, and Y/N's tummy hurt as Sirius shook his head with an upset pout.

"You're so mean. I hate you both. I'll never bake for you again!" "No, love, come on! We're sorry I-I just saw where Y/N was going and played along," Remus laughed, reaching over to engulf him in a hug, but his boyfriend pulled away, back facing his smiling face. He couldn't avoid the love for too long, cornered between his girlfriend who also reached out to embrace him.

"They're really good, Sirius! Come here; I-I'm sorry." "Why do you keep laughing!?" He whined with a little smirk playing at his lips he tried hard to contain when he found himself sandwiched between his loves. "No, ge-get off!" he playfully fought in-between giggles, trying to squirm out of Moony's arms, failing miserably. Y/N jumped over to them and kissed Sirius' face repeatedly.

"I-I'm leaving this house! Stop, Y/N, there's no changing my mind." He laughed. "We won't let you go; hate to break it to ya'." "Yup, I'm kissing you until you forgive us." They collapsed in giggles with sore bellies, letting go and going back to their spots to finish their desserts. "You did a splendid job, darling." Remus smiles, biting happily into his brownie. "Yes, they're amazing." Y/N assured and presses one last kiss to Sirius' cheek.

After several stories, laughs, warm smiles, and kisses were shared, they all decided to call it a night. Y/N grabbed one of Padfoot's shirts and a pair of Moony's socks, throwing them on before brushing her teeth and washing her face as her boyfriends got ready as well.

They jumped into the two queen beds they had joined and covered only with a soft silk sheet Sirius had insisted on getting since it was spring; They liked to cuddle, and if for some reason they covered more, they'd be kicking away in their sleep so they could be fresher.

Usually, Y/N would sleep between them, but today Remus took her spot and they were all comfortable with that. He wrapped his arms around his partners and kissed both of their heads, feeling exhaustion wash over him as their limbs pressed against all of his body; engulfed by love and warmth he craved his whole life before they came into the picture. "Thank you," he sighed, "for everything."

"Anything for our Moony," was heard in a soft whisper in the dark room, and with that, they drifted off to sleep.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Marauders taglist (DM or answer to be added): @kquil

Oh I had so much fun writing this one!!! Hope you lovelies like<3 SIDE NOTE I JUST REALIZED I SAID NO WARNINGS BUT I LITERALLY HAVE A LINE WHERE SIRIUS MENTIONS BENDING R OVER THE COUNTER HELP 💀

Remember, the best way to support writer’s works on here is by REBLOGGING WITH TAGS. I’d very much appreciate it if you did!

Thanks again, stranger. Hope you have a nice day<3

NO ONE IS ALLOWED TO REPOST AS THEIR OWN/TRANSLATE/OR COPY MY WORK IN ANY PLATFORM OR SPACE WITHOUT MY EXPLICIT CONSENT.

[cameronspecial]

Let Me Date You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: N/A

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 0.9K

Summary: Rafe wants everything for their first date to be perfect, but unfortunately, it isn't.

Masterlist

They were going to go for Mexican food on Friday night, but unfortunately, Y/N got sick and lost her voice. It disappointed Rafe greatly to have to postpone the date, but at least now he can make it absolutely perfect. The Mexican place he wanted to take her to is now closed for a private event, so he had to rethink his plan. He thought it would be the perfect opportunity to go to the most exclusive restaurant in town. He planned everything down to a t. It was the type of place with a pre-determined menu, so he had to make sure that the menu they had the night of their date was something Y/N would like. He made sure they shipped in the drink she liked. He made sure that he got her the perfect pre-date gift. She wasn’t the biggest fan of flowers, so he got her some of her favourite stationery she likes to use for her notes. This date was going to be perfect and he was going to make sure of that. 

——

The first thing that goes wrong is the restaurant reservation. “I’m sorry Mr. Cameron, but in our system, it says that your reservation is at eight,” the hostess apologizes, looking up from the screen. Rafe shakes his head, “No, no, no. That’s not right. I said seven. I confirmed with whoever I was on the call with that it was at seven. What are we supposed to do until we get a table?” Before the hostess can answer, Y/N steps in to help ease the situation. “It’s okay, Rafe. We can go back to your car and listen to some music. I have this great song that I think you would like.” She takes his hand and they head to his car to do as she suggests with him grumbling under his breath at the stupid person he was on call with. The next thing that spoils his evening is the menu being changed at the last minute. “And the entrée for tonight is a braised duck accompanied by a peanut sauce,” the waiter announces while pouring their wine. 

Rafe’s fist clenches in anger. He specifically told the restaurant he needed to know about menu changes because of her allergies. Now, it makes him look incompetent to Y/N because she told him about her allergies. “Oh, I’m allergic to peanuts. Is there any way to not get the sauce on it,” she politely asks. The waiter gives a tight-lipped smile and shakes his head, “I’m afraid not, Miss. The chef doesn’t like when the meals are altered in any way.” “That is stupid, so you are telling me that my date can’t eat anything because your chef doesn’t want to have his feelings hurt,” Rafe argues, boring his eyes into the man. Y/N smiles at the waiter, “It’s okay. Is there any way we can get the check, please?” The waiter nods and heads to get their check for the drinks printed out.

She turns to Rafe with a smile, “It’s okay, Rafe. We can just go to the campus pub. We can share the nachos.” He wants to argue with her that he can fix this and with the chef that he needs to get rid of the nut sauce for Y/N. Yet, something in him tells him to do as she suggested. “I’m sorry. I just really wanted this night to be perfect for you, Angel. And everything seems to be going wrong,” he tells her, putting his hand in hers. She shakes his head, “I know you do, but I promise, it will still be perfect if we go to the pub. Honestly, I like greasy nachos way more than braised duck.” This calms his nerves a little and he pays the bill so they can leave.

——

The pub is busy. Probably because of the hockey game playing on the TVs, but Y/N and Rafe get a table in the back corner. It’s more cozy and warm than the stuffy and cold exclusive restaurant. The date is going absolutely amazing. They’ve shared so much food. A burger. Nachos. Wings. Fries. They completely indulged themselves in not only food but also conversation. There is never a moment of silence and laughter fills the air. Rafe has to admit that this has been the perfect date. “I just wanted to say thank you for letting me date you, Angel,” he interrupts their conversation. He can’t help himself. He needs her to know how much this means to him because he thinks he found his soulmate. She leans in to give him a kiss and pulls away, “No need to thank me. You found me and I promised I would. But this has been an amazing date. I love it.” He has kissed a lot of people before, but he’s never kissed anyone who's built a fire in his stomach. It tells him what he needs to say next. 

“I know it’s early, but will you be my girlfriend?” he inquires, begging the universe that she won’t say no. She grins at his nervousness, letting him be on edge for a second. When it looks like he is about to cry, she saves him from his panic. Her arms wrap around his neck, “Of course, I would love to!” They pull away from the hug to turn it into a kiss. Once they pull away, Rafe takes a napkin and looks around for a pen. “Here,” she offers, handing him one from her purse. She is so curious about what he is going to write. She watches as he writes down numbers for a list and then writes Rules To Be Rafe’s Girlfriend at the top of the napkin. Boy, does she not know what she got herself into. 

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia

[whyse7vn]

MOVING OUT -

[ot7 x reader]

BFFS 😁💜

8 participants - 8 online

———————————

jk: #NEWYEARNEWHOME

#NEWME 🙌🏼

hobi: don’t want to know don’t care shut up

jin: what now

jimin: sighs

tae: AWOMAN 🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼🙌🏼

yooongi: …

jk: #newbeginings 🙏🏼

namjoon: ??

jk: i’m moving out guys 😆

like living on my own

me

i am

no joke

real life

living with y/n era OVER

hobi: attention seeker

jin: idk if you can even survive on ur own

y/n: he’s being stupid

ignore him pls

jk: house warming party soon guys!!!!

everyone invited unless ur name starts with a j

yoongi: your name starts with a j

jk: everyone invited unless ur surname starts with a j

yoongi: are you stupid

jin: is this about y/ns new bf lmao

y/n: i brought jaehyun over ONCE and now kooks spiralling

jk: idk who is jaehyun sorry idk who that is or what ur talking about sorry idk a thing

namjoon: sighs

yoongi: lowkey valid

y/n: ????????

yoongi: i mean if we were living together and you brought a rat back home i would loose my mind a bit

y/n: namjoon

namjoon: yoongi

yoongi: just saying

jimin: LMAOOO

y/n: not funny

jimin: just a little bit

tae: i heard jaehyun a world famous cheater

y/n: guys

hobi: look you made her upset

jk: y/ns upset?

jin: yikes

jimin: it’s not even my fault

yoongi just makes me giggle some times

yoongi: 🫰🏼

tae: i’ll hold you bbg sshhh don’t cry

namjoon: ew

y/n: i really really like him ok

so if you all could actually maybe just give him a chance and not be assholes for once i would really appreciate it

hobi: ofc pretty <3

jimin: ok but do you love him

namjoon: jimin

jimin: WHAT sorry i really need to know

jk: DONT ANSWER THAT

jin: woah

jk: i mean you don’t have to answer that haha

i’m still moving out btw

tae: i think you should give up i don’t think she’s gonna tell you to stay

omg like a dog

stay

i wish someone would tell me to stay

“stay 😡”

ok bae i’ll stay

am i ur good boy?

tell me i am

look at me

i stayed here

waiting for you

tell me i’m your good boy tell me please

hobi: bro

tae: sorry got lost in the source

namjoon: you mean the sauce?

tae: yesss mayo!!

@y/n tell me to say

y/n: absolutely not

i can tell you to kys tho

tae: Keep Yourself here and Stay

a win for kim taehyung

y/n: kill yourself

tae: no

heheheh

i’m a bad boy tonight

what you gonna do about it 😝

jimin: oh my god stop talking

tae: she wants me

y/n: she has a boyfriend

tae: never even seen that man in the same room as you

u sure you not making this relationship up

y/n: do i need to send you a fucking sex tape to prove it

tae: i mean…..

if you want lol

y/n: ur gross

tae: you’ve kissed me

y/n: top ten worst moments of my life

tae: WOAHHHHHHH

UMMM

OK NOW YOU’VE CROSSED A LINE

namjoon: enough

both of you

y/n: taes a shit kisser

tae: NO I AM NOT

NAMJOON TELL HER IM

NOT OHMYGOD HOW DARE SHE

namjoon: wydm tell her?

ur acting like i’ve kissed you to know

tae: i’ll kiss you

namjoon: i’m going to block you

tae: I AM NOT A SHIT KISSER

jimin: tae can’t kiss tae can’t kiss

tae: STOP I CAN

hobi: that’s really sad actually

jk: can someone do me a favour

yoongi: no

namjoon: what’s the favour?

yoongi: it’s gonna be something stupid

jk: joon can you buy me a house??

yoongi: shocker!!

tae: guys i’m a great kisser ask all the girls i’ve kissed

jimin: girls?

the only other girl you’ve kissed is jennie

tae: THATS NOT TRUE I NEVER KISSED THAT WOMAN IN MY LIFE

hobi: she didn’t let you kiss her even tho you flew all the way to paris for her??

that’s crazy

jin: maybe she was waiting for marriage

y/n: maybe she was waiting for the police

namjoon: i am not buying you a house are you out of ur mind??

jk: but how i’m i supposed to move out?

namjoon: buy ur own house?

tae: why would she be waiting for the police??????

jin: being seen with you is a crime in itself

don’t even get me started of being seen publicly HOLDING HANDS with you

hobi: right yikes

jimin: what’s the french police number?

y/n: fuck knows

jin: baguette snail croisant

jimin: those are not numbers

hobi: isn’t that racist?

jin: to who?

hobi: the french??

jin: you can be racist to the french???????

hobi: i think idk???

jin: shit you better lock me up then

been oui oui baguette eiffel tower bonejawing my whole life

y/n: bonejaw??????????

tae: jin ur like a mega racist…

hobi: do you like trump be honest

jin: tf is trump

jk: namjoon pls oh pls 🥺🥺🥺🥺

yoongi: can you guys not have 2 conversations at once thanks

tae: just say you can’t keep up

yoongi: just kill yourself

tae: WOAH

namjoon get him!!!!

namjoon: am i a dog??

why do i have to always get someone

i think you guys need to learn how to fight ur own battles

tae: dog

“stay😡😡😡😡”

w-what’s happening to me 😰😭

🧍🏻‍♂️… 🧎🏻‍♂️…. 🐕

arf? 🥺

*head tilt*

jimin: this is why women avoid you

tae: take a leaf out of my book bro

jimin: would genuinely rather die

hobi: /gen /srs

yoongi: /kys

jin: wait so jungkooks moving out but doesn’t have a home to move into

jk: i can always move in with yoongi

yoongi: LOL

jk: or jimin

jimin: wow the weather is great today guys 😆

jk: hobi will have me

hobi: no!

jk: jin joon??

namjoon: give up

jin: are you silly

tae: i could

jk: no thank you ❤️

tae: wtf

y/n: LMAO

tae: what’s wrong with living with me???

jk: u scare me a lot i’m sorry

tae: fucking bitch

jimin: what if y/n moved in with jaehyun then you have the house to urself?

jk: ARE YOU SILLY???

WHY WOULD I WANT THAT

IMG THE THOUGHT OF THAT MAKES ME WANT YO THROW UP

NEVER SAY THAT AGAIN

jimin: woah ok don’t shoot me in the head tf??

thought you wanted this independent life

y/n: i mean i can if that’s what u really want kook

jk: KOOK HEHEHEHEHEHHEHEHEHEHE

my knees just gave out >.<

WAIT NO DONT MOVE IN WITH HIM YOU DONT HAVE TO IM SORRY NO DONT DO THAT

jin: u make me wanna throw up

jk: i love living with you!!! i’m sorry i’m not gonna move out so please don’t move out either living with you has been and IS the best thing that’s ever happened to me please don’t go

hobi: that’s a shinee song

jimin: didn’t she fuck a shinee member LMAO 💀

namjoon: jimin

jimin: sorrrrryyyyyyyyyyyyyyyy

tae: so you can fight her battles for her but fighting mine is an issue????

ok sexism IS real females were onto something with this one

y/n: females??

yoongi: they way you dig urself deeper and deeper into unlikeability is truly insane

tae: my fault feminist yoongi here to get my ass 💀💀💀💀

NO IM SORRY I DIDNt MEAN THAT LMAOO

PLS DONT HURT ME

IDK WHY I SAID THAT

THE DEMONS TOOK OVER FOR A SEC

NO JOKE BLACKED OUT

DONT EVEN REMEMBER SAYING THAT

NAMJOON TELL HIM IT WAS A MISTAKE

JOON

KIM NAMJOON TELL HIM TELL HIM

hobi: tell me tell me tttttell me

yoongi: i’m gonna shoot him

namjoon: understandable

hobi: it’s the love shot

jk: i’m not moving out guys

jin: no shit

y/n: hobi answer my ft >_<

hobi: give me one sec my love!!!!!!!!!!

jimin: woah???

jin: uhhhhhhhh

tae: group ft ❤️!!

y/n: kys!!

tae: why do girls not fuck with the nice guys anymore

hobi blew up a school once

hobi: ??

tae: get off the phone so my gf can call ME

yoongi: i beg you to shut the fuck up

tae: beggar

jimin: that coming from you is actually insane tae!

tae: what

namjoon: so whose hosting games night this week

yoongi: not me

jin: i did it last time

jimin: my place is real messy

hobi: don’t wanna :/

tae: i refuse in protest of tae respect and love in this gc

y/n: me and jk can

since he’s not moving out and all

jk: 😁!!

namjoon: cool

everyone ok with that?

jin: yup

jimin: ok

yoongi: yes

tae: whatever lol

hobi: y/n why don’t you invite jaehyun??

so we can all properly meet him

you’ve met his members right??

he should meet yours no?

yoongi: ?????

tae: ARE YOU SILLY

jin: ur so wrong for that

y/n: ahhhh idk

i mean i have met his members

and i really do want you guys to properly meet him as well…

jimin: somethings going on

jk: haha yeah lol i mean i’ve met him already

he was my friend lol haha not that it matters but that’s ok

did i say was ?? i meant is lol sorry i wouldn’t stop being his friend just cuz he’s dating you that would be silly

but yeah but if you want him to come that’s cool

but he really really really doesn’t need to haha

namjoon: y/n bring your boyfriend

y/n: are you sure???

tae: NO??£:£:££:

jin: yes!!! #drama

jimin: ofc

yoongi: whatever

jk: hahah lol hahah

y/n: ok

hobi: great ☺️!!!

cant wait

jimin: i bet

hobi: ??

jimin: nothing

hobi: y/n answer :p

y/n: okokokokokokokokok

jimin: i’m gonna do some deep diving i’ll talk to you all later

(unfortunately)

(and by force not cuz i like you)

(the talking to you later part not the diving part)

bye

jk: woah didn’t know jimin was a diver

yoongi: ur stupid

@y/n reply to my message

bye

jin: wow guys i’m really exited for games night

gotta stock up on the alcohol

so i guess i’m going too

bye 👋🏻

tae: good i’m going as well

i’ve got to go and punch a wall

jungkook come over

this is srs business

jk: okay ^_^

getting in my car

speak to you all later 💓

hobi: y/n told me to tell you all bye

so bye from her and bye from me

😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼😁🫰🏼

namjoon: woah

did we

did we just end a conversation normally….

oh my god

wow

guys wow omg

this is the first time this has happened

wow

i’m in shock

this is such a big step for us

i’m so proud

um

wow

what do i even say rn

….

um

yoongi: how about goodbye

blowing up my phone for no reason

namjoon: no ur right i’m sorry

goodbye guys

um

have a good day???

yeah

um wow

yeah have a good day guys i mean it

i honestly and truly mean it

wow

yeah and

yoongi removed namjoon from “BFFS 😁💜”

—

hobi sus

tags: @piw6n @92jinnies @birdie-vhs @kooksmilitarywife @hob3loveofmylife @jujubiism @bloopkook @ratchetpizza1 @myntalks @arloo00 @watamotee33 @y2kcy3brz @taiwan0618 @indigobsessed @freyadanvers @gguksbeloved @raetf @bbsantc @winuvs @medicinemybish @bxnnyhime @leleluvsbts @baetukki @zyaaaszn @thelilbutifulthings @jazminethecreator @k4ngelz @jmnscutie

[watchmegetobsessed]

BULLETPROOF

A/N: *screams in excitement* its here!!! its finally here!!! im so happy i finally got to finish a longer fic without hitting rockbottom with it. this one was very easy to write, i think i was heavily inspired by the night agent series on netflix lol now im very excited for yall to read it!!

WORD COUNT: 12.5k

WARNING: gun use, getting shot, blood, stalking, bullying

SUMMARY: Being Eroda's first daughter is not all sunshine and rainbows. It's tough out there when people are so fast to judge you and turn their back on you. But there is one person who's been there for you all along. Your bodyguard, Harry.

MASTERLIST | SUPPORT ME!

The wine is nice. The salad is tragic, probably the worst you’ve ever had. You wonder how dessert will turn out to be, could be good or poisonous at this point.

The company?

Well, at least he is not staring at your breasts.

Going out with Jaiden sounded a lot more fun when he asked you out in the library, but now that you’ve been listening to him speak for the past thirty-two minutes, you’re counting it, he appears to be just another douche who wants to brag about you at the next frat party. He probably thinks he is doing well and he might get lucky once you leave the restaurant, but there are two reasons why that won’t happen.

One, you spotted some tomato sauce on his left hand before he left to the restroom and when he came back it was still there, he did not wash his hands and then touched the garlic bread. You’ve pushed the basket out of your view discreetly after that. It’s already a very strong point, but the second one is the real deal.

There is absolutely no way the three agents, one by the door, one by the window and one at two tables from you would be okay with assisting to your hookup. Well, it’s not that they would have a choice, if you think of it. But think about it: even if he weren’t a pig, this is how it would go.

Arriving to Jaiden’s building you would be told to wait outside with Morrison, while Jackson and Styles go up and check out Jaiden’s place. Then they would come down to get you. If the mood weren’t dead by this point, you’d have to go up and start the action with one agent down in front of the building, one by the front door and then the worst, you just know Styles would stand by the bedroom door like a statue, listening closely to everything happening inside.

Then when it would be over you’d have to leave with the three men around you and return to your place. Madness. Pure comedy.

“What do you think?”

Jaiden’s voice snaps you out of your thoughts about the ridiculous daydream of tonight and you realize you have no idea what he’s been talking about in the last seven minutes.

“Um, sorry?” you clear your throat, reaching for the wine.

“I was asking you about how…”

You look over his shoulder and spot Styles through the glass door, zoning out of the conversation in record time.

He is wearing civil clothes, all three of the agents are, that was the deal when you’re out somewhere, with friends or on a date which happen once in a leap year, to be honest. He’s wearing a black t-shirt with a black bomber jacket over, simple, dark jeans and trainers. You wonder if this is actually his style, if this is how he dresses when he is not on duty, when he is running errands or meeting up with his friends for drinks. You only see him when he is responsible for protecting you at all cost, he’s been head of your security team for the past two years and it’s been a rollercoaster of a ride.

He was a real pain in the ass at the beginning, he would jump at every possible noise, he dragged you out of class once because someone’s pen clicked louder than the usual. Fuck, you lost count of the times you screamed at him, asking what was his problem, if he lost his mind and every time he just stood there, like a fucking rock and then just nodded at the end and carried on with his nonsense.

It took some time and lots of communication to find balance. You realized he would never listen to you when you’re screaming from the top of your lungs and you had to accept that he is just doing his job. So you sat down with him and your father, the president of Eroda to talk about boundaries.

Things have been better since then and the two of you actually work well together. Most of the times.

He was next to you at every major event, ups and downs, he drove you home after you confronted your last serious boyfriend about how he cheated on you with three different girls, you sobbed like a baby and couldn’t even open the lock on your front door. He took the keys gently from your hand and did it for you. When you woke up in the morning the fridge was stocked with your favorites. You never asked, but you know he did it.

He has attended concerts and parties with you, shadowing you even when you had to get tampons in the middle of the night. You bet he knows what brand and size you use too at this point. As much as he’d gotten on your nerves millions of times… you like the guy. He is straight forward, always speaks his mind if asked, he sees things in a very rational way. He’s ambitious and hard-working and most of all, trustworthy.

He might actually be your best friend.

How tragic, you consider your head of security to be your best friend! This must be the end here…

“You’re really not listening, are you?” Jaiden laughs, but it’s dry, he looks pissed when you look back at him.

“Sorry, it’s been… a long week. And honestly, I kind of lost interest when you started talking about football, since I know nothing about it.”

“Wow, okay, so what were you expecting? Brainstorming about possible ways to stop the climate change?” he scoffs and you actually think about just standing up and leaving.

“No, but on a date you usually talk about things you both like. I guess we have nothing in common, then. So why don’t we—“

“You really know how to make people feel stupid.”

“Excuse me?” Your eyebrows shoot up, this is getting interesting.

“Just because daddy runs the country, doesn’t mean you’re above us all. Don’t have to be such a snob.”

“Oh, it wasn’t even me being a snob,” you retort with a forced smile as you grab your bag from the table and from the corner of your eyes you already see the agents moving. “It’s been a lovely evening, but I think we’re better as… I would say friends, but it wouldn’t be true. Bye, Jaiden.”

You stand and plan to march past him to meet Morrison and Jackson to head out, but Jaiden is not done, it seems. He jumps to his feet and his hand grabs your upper arm, pulling you back. He barely just opens his mouth when Hell breaks loose.

Morrison is first to get his hands on him, yanking him away from you while Jackson tears his hand off you, then it gets twisted behind him and Styles arrives, smacking your date up against the wall.

The whole restaurant is staring at you and you just want the ground to open beneath you.

You stop at your front door out of instinct, already knowing they have to sweep through the place before you could enter. Styles stands beside you and waits for Morrison and Jackson to return. When it’s confirmed you walk in, a blank look on your face.

“Have a nice night, guys. Thank you for tonight,” you tell them in a robotic voice. Morrison and Jackson says good night and you hear the door closing, but you know you’re not alone.

Styles stands by the door and you can feel him watching your every move as you put your heels away and take your earrings out.

“Are you gonna give me a lecture about choosing guys more wisely?” you ask, finally facing him. He’s standing with his hands clasped together at the front, his usual pose, but it’s a bit odd without his usual suit.

“No,” he answers shortly and you wait for him to say whatever is on his mind. “Just wanted to ask if you’re alright.”

“My arm is fine, you don’t ha—“

“I wasn’t asking about your arm.”

You stare back at him in silence, everything just dawns on you all at once and your chest feels like burning.

“Yeah, I’m fine,” you breathe out, but then a tear rolls down your face.

You see the change in him instantly. His eyes soften as he walks over to you, his gaze frantically searching your face, probably trying to figure out what to do. They don’t tell agents how to deal with young, crying women who feel like they are going to die alone.

“I’m fine, really,” you say again and he pulls out a tissue from his pocket, handing it over to you.

“He was a douche. Don’t take it too seriously.”

“How many disastrous dates have I been on in the past year?” you ask with a shaking voice. He doesn’t answer, just clenches his jaw. “You know damn well that it was my eleventh. You were there at all of them. I can’t help but start to think that something must be wrong with me and not with them.”

“Nothing is wrong with you. They were… weird guys. They were the problem, not you.”

“So then it’s just my taste that’s trash, right?” you let out a bitter laugh, hoping that making fun of yourself would help, but it doesn’t. It never does.

“Finding the right person is hard. You have to give it time.”

“I’m impatient, if you haven’t noticed.”

“I have. The first day I met you.”

There it is.

That teeny tiny smile that barely just curls up the corners of his mouth but it drives you insane. Because it’s so rare, it’s so intimate and every time you see it the urge to kiss it gets harder and harder.

Yes, it’s such a cliché, but you do have a crush on your bodyguard. You fought it, you really did, but one day you had to realize there’s nothing you can do about it. Now you’re just trying to live with it but moments like this make it really hard not to overstep certain boundaries. For one, you really shouldn’t have feelings for someone whose job is to protect your life at all cost. Your father would have a heart attack if he found out you’re hooking up with an agent. And two… he might be nice to you, a real friend, but you feel like there’s no way he would ever feel the same way about you. Hell, sometimes, on your worse days you even question his friendship. What if it’s all just the job for him? To take care of your fragile little soul?

You’re awfully lonely.

“Get some rest, you have an 8 am class in the morning.”

He steps back and the smile is gone just like that.

“Yes sir!” you salute him, to which you just get a bored look before he takes one last look around and walks out to check in with the night shift agents outside your door.

You’d rather spend this Saturday evening locked up in your bedroom, watching Criminal Minds and eating popcorn, but tonight is one of those occasions where you have to make an official appearance as the president’s daughter.

You’ve definitely woken up on the wrong side of the bed, nothing went as you planned so far and you even had a fight with Styles because he ended your morning run earlier when a group of obnoxious fratboys appeared on the football field next to the running track and they accidentally threw a ball in your way.

You have not talked to him since, haven’t even seen him, but you know for a fact he will be coming with you tonight. He is there at every official event, never missing one.

There’s a soft knock on the front door just when you’ve finished getting dressed. You shuffle over to the door and opening you find yourself facing Styles in his usual suit, a change from the workout clothes he wore in the morning.

Fuck, you want to act grumpy still, but he looks especially good with slightly more tamed than usually and he is freshly shaven.

“Ready to go?” he asks.

“Not yet. Come and help me, please,” you say as you turn around, but you notice he is not following you. “Come on, I won’t bite your head off.”

With a tiny frown he finally moves and follows you into your bedroom where you grab the diamond necklace you want to wear tonight.

“Can you put it on, please?”

He takes the necklace, holding it so gently, you have never seen him handle something with so much care.

Maybe only you.

You turn around and hold your hair up as he reaches around your neck and you bit back a moan when his fingers brush against your collarbone. He fidgets with the clasp for a few moments before taking a step back once it’s done.

“Do you think I can make an early Irish exit tonight?” you ask, stepping into your heels and he offers you a hand that you gladly take to help the process. Once you’re done you head out, Styles following you right behind.

“Don’t think the president would appreciate it.”

“Oh, I know him well, I think I can have a pass from him.”

It’s another event where you feel absolutely useless, you’re just there so your father could show off.

“…And this is my daughter, Y/N. She is studying law!... She is top of her class, yes… Isn’t she a lovely young woman?...”

The smile on your face starts to hurt when you decide to take a break from all the guests that you know nothing about but they all seem to be very familiar with you.

“I’m gonna go out for a bit,” you tell Styles who’s been your shadow all night, three other agents watching your every step as well from different points of the room.

“Let me che—“

“I think there’s no danger out on the balcony, everyone has been thoroughly checked here, I’ll be fine for five minutes.”

You have a staring match for a minute where he weighs in on your words before finally nodding.

“Five minutes,” he says, opening the door for you.

“Start the fucking clock,” you mumble under your breath.

As you stand by the railing, staring out into the night you feel more deflated than ever. Like you’ve lost every ounce of energy and the urge to just scream is quite tempting. This is not the life you dreamed of, but it is what your father always wanted and you sometimes feel like a terrible daughter for being so displeased. You do have privileges others would never get to experience, but you’ve never felt lonelier and more out of place. The way here showed you how shallow your friendships have been, now only have about three people you consider your friend and one is your bodyguard, one is studying in Switzerland and the third is… Wait, there’s no third. That’s it, you have two friends.

You hear Styles stepping closer and you already know what he is about to say.

“I know my time is up, but if you dare to remind me, I’m pushing you off this balcony.”

Turning around you face him, ready to fight him for some more time, but you’re surprised to see him with that tiny smile on his face.

“You’re really moody today,” he states, but it’s not one of those smartass comments he usually makes, he is teasing you.

“Surprising?”

“A little bit. Are you… Are you still upset about your date?” His face turns serious.

“I was never upset about the date specifically. I was upset because… Whatever, it doesn’t matter.”

“You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“Stop being so fucking polite,” you groan.

“I can’t be rude to you, I would lose my job.”

“You’ve been rude to me on several occasions! Especially at the beginning!” you accuse him.

“I was never rude. I was honest.”

“Jesus, you are so annoying,” you roll your eyes that earns a smirk from him.

“That’s not my job, but I tend to be that often.”

“I might be moody, but you’re awfully cheeky tonight. What’s gotten into you?”

You head back inside, Styles following you.

“Don’t know, guess I’m just in a good mood.”

“Alright, then I’ll need a drink to put up with this new side of yours.”

And that’s what you did, but you didn’t stop at one drink. You didn’t plan to, but you successfully got so drunk Styles had to rescue you out of the venue before your father saw you. After all, you did make an Irish exit.

In the car you can tell Harry is not in the same good mood, he looks rather pissed as he drives you back home, constantly checking the mirrors to see if Morrison and Jackson are behind you.

“Aw, did I make your job harder?” you pout, but then start laughing as you look at his hard stare. His profile looks annoyingly beautiful and you just want to draw the slope of his nose with your finger.

“No, but it would have been nice if I didn’t have to bring you out through the back door on my shoulder, because you kept running away.”

You start laughing as he recites what happened just about fifteen minutes ago when he was trying to chase you down to get you into the car and away from anyone that could ruin your father’s political career if they saw his daughter running around drunk.

“Don’t be so pissed, your eyebrows will glue together one day, you pull the together way too much,” you snort out a laugh as you slide lower in your seat.

It’s an hour long drive and of course, you fall asleep soon. When you open your eyes next, you see that you’re already in the garage of your building.

“Come on, you need to get to bed.” Styles opens the car door, but you’re still half drunk and half asleep, so you just mumble something and close your eyes back. “Y/N, you can’t spend the night in the car.”

“Says who?” you breathe out.

For a few seconds nothing happens and you start drifting back to sleep when you feel an arm behind your back and one under your knees. You faintly realize that you’re being carried up to your apartment and when you force yourself to open your eyes, you realize that it’s Styles.

“Mm, is this also in your job description?” you groggily tease him, barely able to keep your eyes open. “Mr. Styles. Harry. Can I… call you that?”

“Call me whatever you want,” he answers and then waits in front of the apartment while it’s checked out. With the last bits of your energy you study his face that’s now dangerously up close. He is carrying you like you weigh nothing, his strong hold keeping you safe.

“Oh, don’t tell me stuff like that,” you chuckle, your eyes closing as you push down a yawn. You hear the agents coming out of your apartment, saying it’s clear before Harry starts walking again and a few moments later you’re laid down on your bed.

“You have to change, Y/N,” he tells you, pulling your heels off your sore feet. Groaning, you sit up and he helps you up to a standing position before turning around to walk out, but you stop him, pulling him back by his hand.

“I can’t get this off alone,” you say, nodding down at your dress. You catch the hesitation in his eyes as he weighs in the situation and steps back at last.

You turn around and move your hair so he can access the zipper. He doesn’t move instantly and you’re almost about to turn around when you finally feel his touch on your back. He places one hand to your shoulder blade, holding the dress in place while he pulls the zipper down with the other.

Slowly.

So slowly, it’s almost like foreplay.

Especially since you have no bra underneath, so the lower he gets the more skin he is able to see. The silky dress loosens around your body and you know he is looking at your bare back. With one hand you keep the dress to your chest, but the other one lets go of your hair as you turn back around to face him. 

The alcohol is working eagerly in your system and you’re feeling blunt and risky as you hold your chin high with a half smirk.

“Where did your cheekiness go, Harry?”

“I’m gonna go now.” He gulps hard as he backs away towards the door, but you follow him.

“Am I that scary? That you’re running away?”

“Y/N, stop.” He looks into your eyes as he finally stops and his green irises appear dangerously dark as he stares back at you.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug innocently as you keep walking towards him until you’re just inches away from his chest. “Have you never thought of me like that?”

He doesn’t answer, but you don’t see disgust on his face and it’s enough for you to keep pushing.

“Because I have. Several times. On nights when I knew you were outside and then other times when I didn’t know where you were but I was hoping you were thinking of me.”

He is still completely silent, though his eyes are throwing fireworks your way when one of the straps of your dress slips down your shoulder.

“I want you and I want you to want me too, Harry,” you whisper as you move even closer, your hand that’s holding your dress pushing to his chest while the other moves up to the base of his neck. His skin is burning and you’re desperate to feel it underneath his crispy dress shirt too. 

But before you could close the gap, he pulls back and it’s like a slap across your face.

“Go to bed, Y/N. You need to sleep.”

“But think about it, you could brag about fucking the president’s daughter, wouldn’t you want that? You’d be the man, Harry.”

Your words are like venom as you look at him, your chest heaving, your heart hammering under your hand. 

“Stop talking before you say something you might regret,” he warns you.

“So you’re not man enough to fuck me? How should I trust you with my life then if you can’t even make me come?” you call after him when he is already out of the bedroom.

He freezes and the words sink in as you stare at the back of his head. You expect him to turn around and lecture you, to tell you how cheap you sounded, but instead he just walks out of the apartment and leaves you to your spiraling, drunk thoughts.

You realize you never actually knew panic and terror until you wake up the next morning, realizing what you did last night. That you have to face Harry after you almost begged him to fuck you and then said he is not man enough to be your guard because he didn’t have sex with you.

You have an afternoon yoga class on Sunday that you very much consider canceling on just so you don’t have to face Harry, but you can’t hide in your apartment forever, you’d have to meet him again sooner or later. So when it’s time for you to leave and you hear the knock on your door you open it with shaking hands, relief washing over you instantly when you find DeLuca standing in front of you, no trace of Harry.

That means you have some more time to figure out how to deal with the situation you got yourself into. Yoga actually helps you find some peace of mind, but only until you leave and catch on Jackson’s radio before getting into the car, Harry’s voice asking for a report.

He is working and he’ll be at your apartment, meaning that you have to go through the most awkward situation ever in about fifteen minutes. 

It all happens as if you were in a movie. Arriving at the garage Jackson opens the door for you, DeLuca rounds the car and right at that moment the doors to the elevator swing open and Harry walks out with two other agents. Your mouth goes dry and you’re getting ready to fake your death, but things take a turn then.

“DeLuca, take her to the second floor, it’s been cleared. Jackson, Morrow, come with us.” Harry instructs the agents and you realize something is wrong.

“What? What’s happening?” 

There’s an apartment on the second floor for the agents, like their own little headquarter and it’s usually the safe place they take you to whenever something looks suspicious. Harry looks at you, worry etched onto his face as he places a hand to your back and leads you over to DeLuca.

“There’s been a security alert while you were away, we need to check the whole building.”

“Alert? What kind?” 

“Someone tried to get into your place,” is all he says before he passes you over to DeLuca and disappears with the other agents.

The time you spend on the second floor feels like forever, but it’s actually only twelve minutes. They sweep through the whole building and check the system, trying to find out what happened, but the cameras only caught a man in a black hoodie who stopped at your door, fidgeted with the lock for a while but couldn’t get in so he left. When it’s safe for you to return to your own place you’re walked back by two agents, but the tension is still thick. 

You hear Harry doubling the agents for the rest of the day and night and he checks your apartment one last time himself again when his phone rings and you know it’s your dad calling from the tone he answers the call.

“Yes, sir. Passing the phone over,” Harry says after the briefing of the situation and then holds the phone out to you.

“Dad?”

“Are you alright?”

“I’m fine, I wasn’t here.”

“Alright. We’ll have some extra agents around you for a while. I know you don’t like the guardedam, but we have to do it until we find out who it was.”

“Okay.”

You talk a little more and then you give the phone back to Harry, because your dad wants to have a few words with him. He listens carefully for a while and then walks out of the apartment, leaving you wondering what else there could be, but your dad could be a little too overprotective, so you’re sure he is just fussing about the situation.

You’ve just finished making yourself a cup of tea when Harry returns. He would never admit it, but you can tell this incident is stressing him out. 

“Everything alright with my dad? He didn’t tell you off or anything, right?”

“No,” he shakes his head. “But you won’t like what I’m going to say. You need to have an agent in here with you until we get to the bottom of this situation.”

“Will it be you?” The question rolls off your tongue before you could even think about it. 

“If you want me, yes.”

“I feel the safest with you.”

It’s the truth. Even though the things you told him, screamed at him, don’t agree, he is still the one you trust the most around here to have in your apartment with you.

“Okay,” he nods. “I have to talk to the team, so–”

“Wait!” you stop him from leaving, knowing well you need to have this conversation. Swallowing hard you leave the tea on the kitchen counter and round the island to get closer to him, but still keep some distance. “I want to… I want to apologize for last night. My behavior was… Unforgivable.”

“No need to apologize.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” you give him a hard look. “I had too much to drink, I didn’t… I wasn’t thinking. So… I’m sorry.”

He stares back at you for seconds that feel like forever before he finally nods and you know it’s not just a meaningless reaction to get you out of his hair.

“Okay.”

“We’re… we’re good?”

“Yes. But I really need to go now.”

“Alright,” you clear your throat as you watch him walk towards the door, but he turns back one last time. “I’ll be back soon.”

“Okay.”

And with that, he is off to do his job.

You spend the rest of Sunday studying and you get so focused on your textbooks and notes that you totally forget about Harry’s return and you don’t even notice it. So when you wander out of your bedroom after your brain has been fried from everything you studied, you almost scream when you see Harry standing in the living room by the window.

“Holy shit!” you snap a hand to your chest to calm your racing heart.

“What happened?” He moves fast like a cat, instantly checking the room for possible dangers.

“Nothing happened, I just… forgot you’d be here,” you admit with a soft chuckle as you head out to the kitchen. “It’s kind of creepy how you’re just standing there.”

“I can see the street from here as well,” he answers, as if it was such an obvious thing to say.

As you move around the kitchen, heating some leftovers up you catch him looking at you, or to be more precise, your legs that are almost completely bare thanks to the cotton shorts you’re wearing. 

Last night was a disaster, but now that the shame has settled in you, something else has been lingering in the back of your mind. The sense of hesitation you experienced when you were trying to seduce him embarrassing yourself has been on your mind. How he didn’t move away instantly, how it looked like he was fighting himself, so it gives you the idea that a tiny part of him does look at you the same way you look at him. 

The way he is looking you up is another boost to the theory. 

“Any news about the intruder?” you casually ask, ignoring his stare that quickly slips away from you when you speak up.

“Not yet. But we’re working on it.”

“Do you think… it’s something serious? Like someone is after me?” Leaning onto the kitchen island you play with the spoon in your hand as you look at him, waiting for his response.

“I wouldn’t go into guessing. I’m more of a–”

“Of a fan of factual planning, I know,” you finish his sentence with a smile. You’ve heard it from him several times, word by word.

Grabbing the bowl you round the island and stop a few feet away from him.

“I really do trust you, Harry. With my life.”

You feel like you had to let him know again after last night. The way you questioned his ability to protect you was not fair, he gave you no reason to believe he is not the best person for the job. There’s a reason why he is head of the team.

“Thank you,” is all he says. He is back to his distant self that only focuses on work. You know in times like this it’s better to play by the rules and retreat.

“I’m gonna head to bed soon. Good night, Harry.”

“Good night, Y/N.”

Everything falls back to a somewhat normal routine. Following the incident your team almost doubles, but nothing actually happens and the building’s security system gets an update so three weeks later you’re back to your usual with only slight changes. 

Like how there’s an agent in your living room during the night.

There was a discussion about positioning someone inside your apartment and they explained to you why it’s better to have someone with you during the night. You understood and agreed to do it under one condition: you have to approve of the agents that can take the position. There are three of them and of course, Harry is in that team.

He’s been taking up the inside position as much as he can. He never asked you, but maybe he figured you know him the best and feel the most comfortable with him inside.

Most of the time he hangs out in the living room. He doesn’t stand by the window all the time, you’ve caught him sitting in the armchair, walking around, stretching his limbs. To make it less miserable for him you spend a lot of time in front of the TV, mostly to hopefully entertain him at least a bit now that he’s stuck with you more than ever. For days, he didn’t even look at the screen, but lately you’ve caught him following the show several times, so you’re religiously keeping this habit up. 

The awkwardness has faded, but it definitely taught you a lesson. You better not get drunk when Harry is around and that’s like… all the time. 

Everything seems to be back to it’s extraordinary normal that you’ve been used to for the past few years. 

Today is a special day, however. You’ve been part of a case study competition, your criminal law professor suggested you enter and you’ve worked insanely hard on your case for the past three months that earned you first place. They are holding a little award ceremony today and it will finally be your moment. You will be in the spotlight because of something you worked hard for and not because your father is the leader of the country. 

He promised to be there and watch you accept your well-deserved award and you’re excited to make him proud. 

You started the day early and channeled your excitement into a long morning run before spending the noon at a salon to get your hair and nails done for the occasion. You might be the president’s daughter, but you’re a woman after all and you love a good pampering before an event. 

Now you’re sitting in you closet, trying to figure out what to wear, all the outfits you’ve tried on but decided against are lying on the floor around you in piles. You start to think you should have gone shopping, but then you find the perfect dress, a simple, but elegant black dress with a deeper back cut. You pair them with a pair of designer heels and some statement earrings to bring some light into this quite dark set and you’re all done. 

When you walk out of the bedroom Harry is standing by the window in his usual black suit white shirt attire. His eyes snap over to you and this time he can’t hide how he checks you out from head to toe. You can feel the heat crawling up your neck to your cheeks and ears.

“What do you think?” you ask, giving him a twirl.

“You look… very professional,” he answers. It’s not what you expected, but you know he meant it in the best possible way.

“Has my dad’s plane landed?”

“I haven’t gotten any news from his team yet, but I’m sure he’ll be there on time. Shall we leave?”

“Yeah,” you nod, feeling out of breath. An unsettling feeling sinks into your gut, but you brush it off as Harry helps you put on your coat and you leave the apartment in the ring of agents.

Because of your attendance, the event’s security has been obviously raised and a group of agents have been at the venue long before your arrival, checking every corner so when you’re finally there you can walk in without having to wait in the car. 

The competition had several different fields so there will be more students awarded today, the room is full of winners, their proud professors and parents as well. You take your assigned seat and nervously look around, searching for any sign of your father, but there’s none, so you’re left with just waiting.

It’s killing you, so you text him but you get no response. He should have landed by now to make it in time, his silence is raising concern in you now.

“Harry? Can you please reach my father’s security team?” you ask and nodding he takes a few steps back as he pulls his phone out of his pocket. 

Something is off, you can feel it in your guts and you fucking hate it. It takes forever for Harry to turn back to you, right when everyone starts clapping, because the dean has entered the stage to start the ceremony, but you’re only looking at Harry.

“What did they say?”

“Y/N, he is… He is not coming.”

“What?” It feels like a punch in your stomach and you wish Harry would say it’s just a joke, that he is about to walk in any moment, but the look on his face tells you it’s the truth.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” you whisper as you turn back to face the stage, your throat closing up while you fight your tears.

It was the first thing you asked from him in so long. You’ve been there for him every step of the way and today you just needed your father to be here and be proud of you, but he ditched you. There’s been an ongoing joke on the internet that it will always be the country before you for your dad and you even laughed about it before, but now it’s your cruel reality.

You watch the winners get called on the stage one by one and the willingness to do the same dies in you with every passing moment. 

“Y/N?” Harry taps your shoulder and you snap out of your thoughts only to realize your name has been called. 

“Fuck,” you mumble as you stand from your seat, three agents moving with you, taking their places as you walk up to the stage and shake hands with the dean. Every first place winner has said a few words, so now it’s your turn at the microphone, but it’s like you’ve forgotten how to talk. Looking around you see the sea of faces, everyone is waiting for you to finally say something. Your eyes land on Harry and he gives you a tiny nod and somehow you find your voice.

You manage to say a few sentences about the importance of your study and thank the school for the opportunity before you walk off the stage. You’re expected to return to your seat, but instead, you’re heading to the restroom.

The dam breaks and tears start rolling down your face. You completely ignore the protocol, that an agent has to check the room before you enter and a hand pulls you back before you could rush into the ladies room.

“Y/N, I need to–”

“I don’t want to have the fucking toilet checked, I want to have some fucking privacy!” you snap at him, tears rolling down your face and you’re very close to start sobbing like a child. Harry looks back at you with shock on his face, this time he can’t even mask it, probably because he has never seen you like this.

“Okay, but–”

You don’t wait for him to finish, just push your way inside and don’t stop until you reach a sink that you can lean onto, the sobs finally erupting from your chest. 

Betrayal, disappointment and helplessness wash over you, pulling you right into a possible emotional breakdown, though you’re still fighting it as you open the tap and splash some cold water into your face.

You didn’t realize Harry followed you inside, so when you feel a hand on your back you almost get a heart attack.

“Hey, it’s just me, it’s okay,” Harry holds his palms up when you jump back, gasping for air because of the panic and crying at the same time.

“I s-said I-I wanted p-privacy!” you sob shaking your head.

“I can’t just let you walk in here alone when you can barely breathe!”

“I don’t want to do this! I don’t fucking want to do this!” you cry, leaning your back against the cold, tiled wall as you let yourself fall apart for the first time in forever. You’ve been trying to be calm and collected as much as possible, but so much has piled up on you that your father not showing up was the last straw, the cherry on top.

“Y/N, calm down, take a deep breath, okay?” Harry tries to calm you down, but you just keep shaking your head and sobbing. 

“He didn’t come! It was the only thing… I asked from him!”

“I’m sure he has a reason to–”

“I don’t fucking care! He doesn’t care about me! No one fucking does! I’m just… I have no one left! No one!”

“Don’t say that, Y/N. There are people who care about you.”

“Who? Who cares about me!” you scream at him, finally looking into his eyes and his gaze pierces into yours as he answers.

“Me. I care about you.”

“It’s your fucking job to protect me, it’s not the same!”

Your chest is heaving and you must look like a complete mess, but at this moment nothing really matters. Harry looks back at you like you just seriously hurt his feelings, like what you said was just as disappointing as your father not showing up. Long moments pass by without him saying anything and you start to think he’ll just walk out like he did that night you got drunk, but then he steps closer, definitely crossing the line of comfortable distance.

“If you think you’re just a job to me, you couldn’t be more wrong.”

“Don’t lie to me,” you beg in a whisper.

“Don’t call me a fucking liar,” he snaps back and it’s the first time you hear him swear. His pupils have swallowed his irises and his breathing is almost as wild as yours as he stares at you, practically burning a hole into your face. 

“You left me that night. Without a word. I told you I wanted you and you walked out. That does give me a certain message.”

“You were drunk out of your mind, telling me to fuck you. I would have never forgiven myself if I touched you. I had no reason to believe you wouldn’t regret it in the morning and ask to never see me again. That would have been the end of my career and the end of… me.”

Though your cheeks are still soaked from your tears, his words have stopped your crying and now you can’t even tell what you’re feeling. You have no idea what to do or say, how to react and you can’t believe how this situation is turning out to be. 

“I still want you the same,” you whisper, your mouth deciding on what to say because your brain is in complete shock. 

Harry exhales sharply through his nose, his eyes fall closed and you can tell he is fighting himself, so you want to push him over the edge. Reaching up you cup his cheek in your hand, he doesn’t move at first, but then he leans into your touch and that’s when you push yourself away from the wall to get closer to him, but he pulls away.

There’s a second of devastation, but when he reaches to his earpiece you realize someone is talking to him.

“Copy. We’re in the restroom, give me the fastest route out.” He talks into his wrist before his eyes snap up to you.

“What happened?” you breathe out, feeling like your heart cannot take another shock at this moment, but you’ll have to deal with it anyway. He listens to the answer they give him through his com before talking to you.

“We need to get out. The guy who was at your apartment was spotted in the building.”

“What? Is he armed?” Harry takes your hand in his firm hold and gently, but confidently pulls you towards the door. 

“We don’t know, he ran away, DeLuca and Jackson are after him, but we need to get you out of here.”

Your pulse is higher than ever, you feel dizzy and your brain is definitely shutting down, too much has happened in just minutes, you’re on survival mode. Harry must have noticed your state, because before he could open the door he turns to you, taking your face in his hands.

“It’s gonna be alright. I’m right here.”

“Okay,” you nod, blindly believing anything he says.

He then opens the door, steps out first to check what’s happening and returns to get you and you’re on your way to flee the building.

Circled by agents you follow Harry through hallways you’ve never been to until you somehow get to a back entrance. Your car is already there, waiting for you and you get in the back, lying down onto the seat, remembering that’s what Harry asked from you the last time you had to be rescued out of somewhere. You catch his face before he shuts the car door and he gives you a small nod. 

You don’t experience much of what goes down at the venue, they take you to a safe spot and you wait there with three agents while the rest of your team is either in the venue or at your apartment, making sure there’s no one there. 

Almost an hour goes by when Harry returns and you look at him, feeling on the edge to finally know something.

“We lost him. Your apartment is cleared, let’s get you home.”

You can tell he is beating himself up for letting the guy slip away and you already know he will put his walls back up.

He does one more check in the apartment himself before letting you inside. 

“We are doubling the security for tonight and then we’ll talk about the changes tomorrow,” he lets you know, following you inside. 

“Okay. Are you gonna stay in here?”

“Most likely,” he nods.

“Are you blaming yourself for tonight?”

He doesn’t answer, but his eyes talk for him. 

“You couldn’t have spotted the guy anyway, you would have been with me either way.” You walk closer to him, but keep some distance, sensing his distress.

“I wasn’t focusing fully,” he hisses through his teeth.

“Nothing happened, you–”

“Y/N,” he stops you from talking. “I’m responsible for your safety. Today I put that responsibility behind my feelings and that cannot happen again.”

“Is this your way of saying… you don’t want me the way I want you?” Now you’re moving closer, you need to reduce the distance between the two of you, it’s like something is pulling you towards him, a force that you’re not strong enough to fight. 

He stares at you for long seconds, taking a deep breath before he speaks up slowly in a calm manner.

“What I want does not matter when your safety is at risk. Let me… Let me do my job, let me do what I have to do to keep you safe. Please.”

It’s like he’s begging you, pleading for you to understand and… let go of him. And as much as you want it all to be different, you can’t go against his will and intentionally hurt him, there’s nothing you can do other than live with the pain. Like you always do.

“Okay,” you whisper and try your best to swallow back your tears, you’ve cried enough today. 

Harry exhales, like he’s relieved you’re not putting up a fight and to your surprise he cradles the back of your head and pulls you closer so he can place a kiss to your forehead. 

“I have to take care of a few things, Morrison will be in here until then, but I’ll be back soon, okay?”

“Yeah,” you nod weakly. His hand falls from the back of your head and you watch him turn around and walk out of the apartment. 

You’re on autopilot. Have been for weeks.

Following the award ceremony things turned upside down once again. On one hand everyone has been on edge, because they couldn’t track the guy down, so your security has been doubled since then. Agents follow you everywhere, making it impossible to have a normal human interaction, not that you had plenty of friends to hang out with before. But still.

Your dad called that night and gave you some grand story about why he couldn’t make it to the ceremony, you told him it was fine, because you had no energy to lash out on him and you haven’t had a decent conversation with him since then. You can’t say it bothers you, it’s like there was a switch inside you that now allows you to give zero fucks about what your father does. You’ve canceled two events you were supposed to attend by his side, using the mystery intruder as an excuse, saying that you don’t feel safe out in public. You could tell he was annoyed, but didn’t question it. 

And then there is the Harry situation. Or the lack of it, if you’d like. It’s been hurting like hell, but there’s nothing you can do other than keep your promise of letting go of him. It’s just really hard when you spend so much time with him and have him in your apartment almost every night. 

You don’t watch TV anymore. You can’t bear being in the same room with him with no one else around. It’s hard enough to know he is on the other side of your bedroom door. You go back to coexisting, you silently follow his orders and not give him a headache when you know he already has a lot on his plate, he does his job in peace and everyone is happy.

Or not, but it doesn’t matter. 

The school semester is nearing its end and you’re already planning to ask to stay here for the summer. You know your dad will flip, but you’ll at least try to make a deal with him to attend events in the summer if it means you don’t have to move back home that doesn’t even feel home anymore. 

With your finals coming up you spend most of your time in the library. Surrounded by heavy books, hundreds of pages of notes, you’re working your ass off, because this is the only thing that could make you forget about your misery for a while. 

It’s a Friday afternoon, almost evening and you’re still very much working on a paper in the almost entirely empty library. It’s a great time, because most students avoid the building on Fridays, more interested in parties than books, so it’s a lot more peaceful. It’s your way of distraction from the fact that you have to make an appearance tomorrow for your dad and you can’t bail out of it this time. 

There are three agents near you and two more at the entrance, but Harry is not working now. He will probably take another night shift, not that you keep track of when he works…

You’re too focused to notice the group of people that come in, but when you spot a figure approaching you and the agents around you move instantly, you finally lift your head up from the book in front of you. You’re surprised to see Jaiden coming in your way, stopped by the agents.

“Jaiden?”

“Um, I just want to talk to her,” he says to the agents and you nod your head to let him through. 

“What are you doing here?”

“Just wanted to give you something, thought you might be interested,” he shrugs as he passes you over a paper and with that he is already on his way, leaving you puzzled.

It’s a QR code so you grab your phone and read it and a website starts loading on your screen. When it finally loads, you feel all the blood rushing out of your head.

It’s a site basically dedicated to you, where people can send in anonymous comments and stories about you for everyone to read them. There are quite a few, a big chunk of them obviously from guys you’ve gone on dates with, dragging you through mud, a lot of them stating things that never even happened. 

You just scroll and keep reading them in total disbelief and then you hear laughter. You look up and see Jaiden with a group of fratboys, having a blast seeing you go through the site before they hoard out of the library. 

Your head is spinning and you feel like throwing up as you pack up your stuff as quickly as possible. It’s a struggle not to start sobbing on your way home, neither of the agents ask what’s wrong, because they are not your friend, they are there to keep you safe, but not from assholes, apparently. When you arrive to your apartment you see Harry already waiting by the door, but you avoid looking him in the eyes as you rush inside, wanting to lock yourself up in your room preferably forever. 

The tears start rolling down your cheeks when you hear someone coming after you and you know it’s Harry. 

“Y/N, is everything alright?”

“I’m fine,” you tell him, keeping your back facing him so he can’t see your face.

“Then look at me, please.”

You don’t move, just stand there, silently crying and there’s no way of fooling him, he knows you better than anyone and your shoulders are shaking as well. Slowly, you turn around for him to see your face.

“What happened?” he asks, stepping closer, but he still keeps some distance between the two of you.

“Nothing, I said I’m fine.”

“You’re obviously not fine, Y/N, don’t… don’t bullshit me, okay? Tell me what happened!”

He won’t give up, he won’t leave you alone until you say something so you pull your phone out of your pocket, open the website and hand it over to you. You watch him scroll for a minute before he looks up at you.

“We’re taking this down and we’ll find whoever did this,” he firmly says and before you could react he is already giving orders through his com. “They are on it. we’ll find them, don’t worry.” “Okay,” you breathe out and you turn around to lock yourself up in your bedroom, but he stops you.

“Y/N, wait!”

You look back at him, not even trying to mask how tired, defeated and hopeless you’re feeling. You must look like just a shadow of the person you used to be and the sight of you is probably just as depressing as you feel because it breaks the professional boundary that’s been between you and Harry.

He moves across the room and pulls you into his arms and you just start crying and sobbing uncontrollably while he holds you tight, gently rocking you from side to side to soothe you. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” he murmurs into your hair and you just bury your face deeper into his neck, probably totally ruining his shirt, but neither of you cares about that right now. 

“I don’t want to do this anymore,” you sob, melting into his embrace, because it feels like the only safe place for you.

“I know. I wish I could help you. Tell me what I can do for you.”

“Just please don’t leave me, not tonight, please!” you beg and fully expect him to pull the wall back up, but instead he just holds you even tighter.

“I would never leave you, Y/N.”

The amount of times you had to fake laugh tonight is ridiculously over the roof. It’s another evening where you’re just a tool, something your father can brag about but you hold no influence or whatsoever. 

You’re sipping on some champagne, but you’re careful with the alcohol consumption this time. Though you’re not sure how another situation like that last time would turn out now. Especially after that night after the website fiasco.

After soaking his shirt with your tears the two of you sat on the couch, you remained in Harry’s embrace and he talked you through it, until you momentarily forgot about what happened and somehow you ended up falling asleep. When you woke up you had a blanket over you and Harry was standing in his usual spot by the window, like a hound, watching out for danger. When he realized you woke up he walked you into your bedroom, tucked you in and sat beside you until you wófell back asleep. 

The website was down by the morning and the school was informed about it as well, taking matters into their hands to punish those who created it. You didn’t want to know the names, you just wanted to forget about the whole thing. 

That night changed things between you and Harry. You didn’t feel that wall between the two of you though there was still some distance, but it felt like you could overstep it easily. It’s like you’ve been dancing on a fence, still not sure which side you want to land on. You’re not planning to pressure him to choose, having him this close is already more than you had before so you’re happy to prolong it for as long as possible. 

You have no idea where the conversation is heading around you, you’ve zoned out of it long minutes ago. It’s not that you don’t understand what politicians, influential people tend to talk about at events like this. It’s more about how you recognize some of them know nothing about the field they work at and still hold the power. 

And you lost interest too. 

Holding your champagne flute your eyes wander over the room until they settle on Harry. He is by the window, what a shocker, examining the sea of guests around you, watching out like a hawk until his gaze meets yours and his expression softens. 

“Bored,” you mouth to him and you catch the smirk he tries hard to cover up.

“You got this,” he mouths back to which you frown, making him laugh.

His laugh.

You’ve been gifted with it more in the past few days than in the time you’ve known him and it’s definitely one of your favorite things in the entire world.

“Break?” you mouth once again and he just nods, moving instantly. 

Five minutes later you’re out on the balcony with him, two guards standing by the door inside. 

“This should be considered torture,” you sigh.

“Don’t be so dramatic,” he teases you.

“I’m not, I hate it here. Look around.” You stand beside him, staring inside at the sea of guests. “What am I doing here?”

“Supporting your dad.”

“I think he is fine without me,” you shrug, nodding towards him, he is standing in a circle of men, all of them pretending to be having a marvelous time, but you know for a fact at least two of those men would backstab him the first given chance. It’s all so pretentious and you’re tired of trying to be part of it for him.

“What would you like to do?” Harry asks.

“What do you mean?”

“If you could do anything, any job, anywhere, what would it be?”

You’ve never really thought of that before. A life that’s entirely what you want it to be is so far out of your reach that you never let yourself daydream about it. So now you take some time to think it through before sharing it with Harry.

“I would probably have a riding school,” is what you tell him at last. He looks at you surprised.

“Like… horses?”

“Yeah,” you smile softly, keeping your eyes ahead, staring at the people inside. “I used to ride a lot when I was smaller and I loved it a lot.”

“But you never do it anymore, why?”

“I wasn’t exceptional in it, never won any competitions so my dad thought I shouldn’t keep doing it. He talked me into quitting and I started learning French instead.”

“You speak French?” he asks in shock.

“No,” you chuckle, finally looking at him. “I was mad at him for making me quit horse riding so I never put any effort into my French classes, I can barely introduce myself.”

“Wow, such a rebel,” he chuckles quietly.

“What about you?”

“I don’t speak French.”

“I know that,” you roll your eyes. “I meant, what would you want to do if you could do anything?”

He curls his lips into his mouth as he thinks about it, his eyebrows furrowed.

“I think I would be living on a farm.”

“A farm?”

“Yeah. You know, growing stuff and keeping animals. I love the thought of growing everything I need.”

“That sounds lovely,” you smile at him. “I hope you get to do that one day.”

“I do too,” he nods and the two of you just stand there, watching the mingling and dancing guests.

It’s a moment you want to last longer, you feel close to him, like you’ve finally jumped off that fence and you’re running away. Together. 

So at last you decide to give him a little push.

“I wish we could be dancing there too.” 

Your voice is quiet, barely audible through the noises coming from inside and when he doesn’t say anything for a while you start to think he didn’t even hear it, or that he is ignoring your words because he doesn’t want to deal with them.

But then his hand gently takes yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. 

“I would… love that.”

Your chest feels like bursting and you wish you could just jump into his arms, but you know you can’t. So instead, you just stand there, enjoying this tiny, hidden moment that’s burning into your memories forever.

It was hard to focus on your conversations before, but now, after you’ve shared that special moment with Harry it’s kind of impossible.

You’re making your rounds around, chit-chatting and smiling as pleasantly as possible, but in your mind you’re still out on the balcony, holding hands with Harry.

Talking about him, you haven’t seen him in a little while. You look around, searching for him once again, probably for the millionth time in the past ten minutes, but you see no sign of him.

“Morrison, where’s Styles?” you ask the agent beside you.

“Your father asked to see him, Miss,” he informs you. 

“What? Why?”

“I don’t know, Miss, I’m sorry.”

You try not to think much of it, but when you finally spot him in the crowd your stomach drops, because his expression is anxious and angry at the same time, though he is trying hard to mask it. But you know him too well.

“What’s wrong?” you ask, instantly ignoring the conversation you’ve been in before. 

“Can’t talk right now, but we better leave.”

You don’t question him, just follow, though the way he is acting now is freaking you out. He is right next to you as you make your way out of the room, getting farther and farther from the rest of the guests.

“What happened?” you finally ask when you’re walking down the hallway that leads to the entrance.

“I don’t want to turn you against your father,” he answers, but now you’re just even more keen on knowing what’s going on.

“Harry, tell me!” you demand, stopping abruptly.

Not too willingly, but he comes to a halt as well, turning to face you as he leans closer.

“Your father kept it a secret that they got a letter yesterday in which someone threatened to hurt you today. He kept it from us, because he knew you wouldn’t come tonight if you found out.”

“What?” All the blood rushes out of your face as his words process. 

“He strengthened security for your sake and thought it would be alright, but I don’t want to risk it, we need to get you somewhere safe until we get to the bottom of this whole thing.”

“Okay,” you nod, a shiver running down your spine at just the thought of that letter your father hid from you. 

You’re nearing the exit when your father’s voice beams through the hallway, just when you’re already seeing your car outside.

“Y/N! Where are you going?!” 

He is rushing towards you with his own security team circling him and you can’t stop yourself from rolling your eyes.

“I’m leaving!”

“And you didn’t think of at least saying goodbye?”

“I’m not doing anything for you anymore. Not when you’ve intentionally put me in risk just so you could use me at another event!”

The look he gives Harry says it all. He is pissed that Harry told you about the threat, that someone went against his will.

“It’s not that serious, Honey. We have everything under control.”

“Is that so? Then who sent the letter?”

“We don’t know it yet, but—”

“What if it’s the same guy that’s been stalking me? What if it really is something serious?” You’re finally lashing out on him, something you probably should have done a lot earlier, but you didn’t have the balls. You’re done being the obedient, supportive daughter to a father that’s not returning it at all.

“We doubled security and I have people working on it! No need to–”

“Don’t tell me what I need and don’t need to do! I don’t feel safe anywhere anymore! You knew I would panic if I found out about it but you chose to hide it so you could use me tonight to show people how great of a family we are when in reality, you give no fucks about me!”

“Y/N, that is not true. I didn’t want to stress you out, that’s why I didn’t tell you.”

Lie. That is such a big fucking lie.

“I’m done. I’m done with you. Call me when you’re ready to be my father.”

Turning around you’re on your way out to the car, you hear your dad calling after you, but Harry stops him and it’s the first time you hear him talk so harshly to your father.

And then all hell breaks loose. But it’s not because of Harry’s way of talking to the president.

You’re approaching the car confidently, eager to get away from your dad and the madness that surrounds him, Harry is following you right behind and as you keep your gaze on the car suddenly you realize.

It’s not yours.

Everything happens so fast, but at the same time it’s like it’s in slow motion.

A guy jumps out of the car and points a gun right at you. The agents around you launch forward, but he is several feet away, so they don’t reach him before he pulls the trigger and shoots at you. In that moment you believe you’re about to die. Gasping in surprise you completely freeze, but then get pushed to the side with so much force you smash against the wall, pain jolting through your left arm instantly as the shot of the gun rings in your ear.

You fall to the floor the same time the agents tackle the shooter. From the corner of your eyes you see how your ad is being dragged away from the scene before he could get hurt as well, even though he is shouting your name, it’s protocol to rescue him and take him to a safe place right away.

As you look to your right you see another person on the floor and your heart skips a beat when you realize that it’s Harry, and a pool of blood is underneath you, growing rapidly each second.

He took the shot that was meant for you.

The rest is a blur. You start screaming and try to reach him while two agents pull you up from the floor to take you away from the scene as well, your arm hurts like hell, but you just keep screaming for Harry. 

At last you catch his face, you see him gasping for air, pure panic and fear all over his face, he looks at you one last time and you see a tear rolling down his face before you’re dragged away.

The constant beeping. It just keeps going and going and it’s driving him crazy. 

Crazy enough to finally open his eyes.

Harry is more than confused about his surroundings, the hospital room looks sterile, but nice, very nice if you ask him, so he knows he is at some kind of private facility. It takes a couple of moments for the pain to set in but when it does, it comes with all the memories as well.

He was shot in his chest when he pushed you out of the way, he remembers the pain he felt then which was a lot worse and more intense than the dull, pressure like feeling in his chest right now. He remembers lying on the floor and looking at you as two agents pulled you away and he knows he said his goodbye in that moment, because he was convinced he would die.

He didn’t. 

Now he is lying in a hospital bed, the machines hooked onto him keep beeping and tracking his vitals and when he turns his head slightly to the left the beeping intensifies because he sees you sleeping in an armchair next to his bed. 

You look awfully uncomfortable, but still breathtakingly beautiful, your left arm is in a cast and you’re cradling it to your chest. As if you could sense his wandering gaze, you start moving around and you blink your eyes open at last, seeing that Harry is finally awake.

“Hey,” he breathes out, barely finding the energy to speak, but you burst into tears right away as you fall forward, one hand coming to the side of his head, the other one holding his hand on the mattress.

“You’re awake, oh my God, I really thought I lost you!” You sob and try to take in the sight of him conscious and talking, something you didn’t think you’d ever see again when you saw him lying on the floor three days ago.

“I’m okay, I’m right here,” he exhales as his other hand comes to take your hand by his face. “How are you? Are you okay?”

“Harry, you were literally shot and you’re asking if I’m okay?” you laugh through your tears, finally cracking a smile from him as well. 

“That doesn’t mean I’m not worried about you.”

“I’m fine, just broke my hand, but it’s okay. How are you feeling? Does it hurt?”

“Kind of. But it’s not that bad.”

“Not that bad? The bullet missed your heart by one millimeter. Doctors said it’s a miracle you survived.”

“Well, at least I know I’m not bulletproof,” he tries to joke and it makes you laugh and that was his only intention. 

You’ve stopped crying, but you wouldn’t move from beside him. You’ve been in this room since they brought him out of surgery and refused to leave since then. He reaches over and wipes your tears off your cheeks before cradling your face in his palm. You gladly lean into his touch and then turn your head to kiss into his hand without hesitation. 

You fill him in on what happened. Tell him about how he was rushed to hospital and the guy was caught and it was confirmed he sent the letter and he was the one stalking you at your apartment and award ceremony as well. You were afraid it was someone you knew, but apparently he was just some psycho who wanted to hurt your dad by hurting you.

It was a wakeup call to your father. One that he desperately needed after the stunts he has pulled lately, so you had a long talk outside of Harry’s room when he found out you were here with him. He apologized for everything and promised to be better. You told him his words mean nothing, you need to see the change in his actions. 

He has visited every day since then and you discussed the future as well. A future that will bring lots of change.

“You saved my life,” you quietly say, still kind of in shock about what happened.

“I would do it again,” he replies. 

“You won’t be able to work again because of it,” you tell him. The bullet grazed his lung as well and the doctors said he might never be able to reach the same physical limits like before.

“It doesn’t matter,” he shakes his head. “I didn’t lose you and that’s what matters.”

His words sink in and you have to fight your tears again as you rest you lean closer, until your faces are just inches away.

“I don’t want to feel again the way I did when I thought you died. I don’t want to keep my distance, I… I love you and I want to be with you.”

Harry exhales heavily, his eyes fall closed and when they open again you get lost in them.

“I love you too. And I want to be with you too, always have.”

You let out a laugh that’s mixed with relief, happiness, pain and so much anticipation before you push closer and finally press your lips to his.

Years of built up tension and passion is set free as you kiss him and he returns it just as eagerly. It’s not at all how you imagined your first kiss, not with a cast on your arm or Harry lying in a hospital bed after being shot, but none of it matters in this moment, only him. There’s no more playing around, pushing each other away, this is end game and you both know it. 

“So…” you mumble against his lips, “Will you move to a farm with me?”

“Moving? Aren’t we rushing a little ahead?” he chuckles, brushing some loose strands of hair out of your face before pecking your lips shortly.

“No. I don’t want to waste any more time. Let’s do what we always wanted to do.”

“What about your life? Your dad?”

“I already told him I’m stepping back from my first daughter duties. He is okay with it.”

“Really?”

“I mean, he doesn’t have much saying in what I do after almost getting me killed,” you joke, though you both know how serious the matter was.

“And you’re sure you want to move on… with me?”

You smile at him softly, it’s so typical he is questioning your decision even after everything that happened. He surely needs some time to adjust to this new version of you and him where there’s no wall between the two of you, just love.

Leaning down you kiss his lips softly.

“There’s no one else I would do it with, Harry.”

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed and buy me a coffee if you want to support me!

[babydollmarauders]

MEDIA MANAGEMENT — JACK HUGHES (23-24 SZN PART 16)

au masterlist

notes: i’ve been extremely busy and had no time to take screenshots, so all photos (except one) are from the actual photographers!

y/ndevils00

liked by john.marino97, dawson1417, and 329,615 others

y/ndevils00 we are not beating the loser allegations

we lost 3-6 tonight against the airplanes and their brick wall!

i assume everyone was reacting the same way as babygirl, slut, and i… cussing at the tv

BUT BET YOU CAN GUESS WHO SCORED TONIGHT BASED OFF THESE PHOTOS!

THAT’S RIGHT! BOTH OF MY PRETTY BEST FRIENDS SCORED GOALS TONIGHT!!

MARASCHINO CHERRY WITH HIS FIRST OF THE SEASON AND DAWG-SON WITH HIS THIRD!! I’M SO PROUD OF MY BESTIES!!!

LOOK AT THAT PHOTO OF MY MARINARA SAUCE AND MY LUKEY POOKIE, HUGGING AND SHIT!! SO CUTE!!! (they miss me so bad) ((they were comforting each other))

anyways, good luck in pittsburgh on thursday! try not to lose this time!

p.s. that third photo is the outcome of my secret agent photo taker yelling “y/n says hi!” ! doesn’t Johnny look so happy to hear he can never escape me?!

p.p.s. nothing to do with this game, but congratulations to Sid the Kid on his 13th career hat trick! … i thought he had more tbh

tagged tmeier96, john.marino97, lhughes_06, dawson1417

Load more comments

user25 did you just… go out of your way to subtly dig at Sidney Crosby? 😭

john.marino97 i thought i left you in Jersey and then i hear your name and look up to see you on facetime with a random person!

y/ndevils00 you love that you can never get rid of me 🥰 you’re stuck with me forever!

john.marino97 four years and counting… do i ever get a break?

y/ndevils00 nope!

user73 four years? but, John only joined the Devils last season?

tmeier96 i scored a goal too, you know?

y/ndevils00 yeah… you’re pictured aren’t you?

tmeier96 barely! and no congrats for me!

y/ndevils00 fine, attention whore! congratulations on your goal in a game in which we still did not win

tmeier96 i’m ignoring your sass and saying thank you anyways

y/ndevils00 asshole

tmeier96 bitch

jackhughes hey, that’s my girlfriend, Meier!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes it’s okay baby, i can fight my own battles

y/ndevils00 HEY! I’M JACK’S GIRLFRIEND, MEIER!

jackhughes ah yes, you did so well, lovely Dove. so proud of you

user02 goddamn John looks FINE AS HELL

user81 fr! y/n has a hot ass boyfriend and some hot ass friends!

dawson1417 THANK YOU BESTIE NUMBER 3!!! I MISS YOU SO MUCH!!!

y/ndevils00 I’LL SEE YOU SO SOON, BFFL

lhughes_06 yes, we’re absolutely mentally falling apart without you. idk how we’re still alive

y/ndevils00 i was wondering the same thing tbh. who else is gonna tell you not to eat an expired protein bar?

lhughes_06 i would’ve been fine

y/ndevils00 you would’ve gotten your stomach pumped and missed the game

lhughes_06 i don’t believe you

y/ndevils00 how did you survive this long without me?

_quinnhughes our mom

lhughes_06 @/_quinnhughes shut up, huggy

nicohischier i think you cursed more than we did

y/ndevils00 can you blame me?! these fuckers suck!

nicohischier i- you can’t say that

y/ndevils00 sure, i can! i just did!

ehaula WE suck?! YOU suck!

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula yeah, and Jack loves it!

ehaula UNCLES DON’T NEED TO KNOW THESE THINGS

nicohischier NOBODY NEEDS TO KNOW THESE THINGS

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula prudes

jackhughes Dove, what have we talked about?!

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes that i have to stop talking about our sex life on my instagram 🙁

jackhughes mhm and what did you just do?

y/ndevils00 @/jackhughes talked about our sex life on my instagram 😔

jackhughes so what do you have to say to Haulzy and Cap?

y/ndevils00 @/ehaula i’m sorry for making you privy to Jack and i’s bedroom shenanigans 🫤

[findingnemosworld]

𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐥𝐞 𝐬𝐞𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐭 - 𝐫𝐮́𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐝𝐢𝐚𝐬

・𝐫𝐞𝐪𝐮𝐞𝐬𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐛𝐲: 𝐦𝐞

𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: 𝐚𝐭 𝐰𝐡𝐚𝐭 𝐜𝐨𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐨𝐮𝐥𝐝 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐨 𝐭𝐨 𝐤𝐞𝐞𝐩 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐞𝐧?

𝐭𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐠𝐞𝐫 𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: 𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐬. ( 𝐫𝐮́𝐛𝐞𝐧 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐝𝐢𝐜𝐤 𝐢𝐧 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 )

𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐫'𝐬 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞: 𝐢𝐭'𝐬 𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥𝐥𝐲 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐮𝐥 𝐭𝐨 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐛𝐮𝐭 … 𝐰𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐯𝐞.

Their relationship was far too complex for her to put into words, they were attracted to one another yet it often seemed as if she was more attracted to him than he was to her - the sex was mind-blowing, he knew exactly when and where to hit her, precise, meticulous and an absolute god in the sheets, however; each time she would lean in and try to break the walls between them beyond the occasional I love you's, he only seems to strengthen them further - refusing to acknowledge their love even in public, at times referring to her as just a friend.

She understood his reservation at first, after all he was a public figure and the last thing he needed was more eyes on his personal life away from the pitch yet it irked her whenever they were around people, he was full of chatter, smiling as he insisted on referring to her as just a friend.

And she had had enough.

That night, he invited himself over to her house - claiming that he had a two day holiday that he wanted to spend entirely with her, and as much as she wanted to speak to him, to confront him about this - he seemed to find a way to distract her every time, case in point, tonight.

He was in her bedroom, showering while she started cooking dinner - half distracted by how she was going to ask him about where they stand in their relationship, when suddenly her thoughts were broken when a warm body enveloped hers, two arms wrapped around her waist while a pair of soft lips trace soft kisses across her neck inciting a half sigh half moan from her, " Rúben "

" You seem lost in thought " He states against her skin before resting his chin on her shoulder, " What's wrong? "

She freezes for a second before shaking her head softly, mixing the vegetables with the sauce in the pan before she responded. " It's nothing "

He wasn't convinced at the slightest yet decided to probe her further, instead saying. " I'll set the table then " he murmurs.

Later on, they sit down and eat in complete silence; only ever exchanging a few words which further confused Rúben and yet he decided not to think much of it, they finished dinner and stands up to pick up the dishes before making her way to the kitchen to clean them up, while she was cleaning - he did not move from his place, observing her, something definitely seemed off and he wasn't certain what to make of it.

She wraps up cleaning and makes her way to the bedroom, Rúben makes his way after her, walking in to see her rummaging through the closet until she picked out a pair of shorts and a top, and it was then that he decided to comment in hopes of lightening up the mood between them, " You don't have to wear them "

She halts her steps midway, looking up at him with an unreadable expression, a soft smile adorns her lips. " Guess you can take them off of me in a minute " she grabs the change of clothes and steps into the bathroom.

Rúben frowns, fully convinced that she wasnt happy at all and it wasn't until she stepped out ten minutes later that he decided to take the initiative, she was about to walk towards her vanity table when he grabbed her wrist and tugged her towards him causing her to topple down and land on top of him. " If you won't tell me what's wrong, then I'll fuck it out of you " he whispers before removing the towel from her damp body.

He flips them over, her back colliding with the mattress; his head dips down to lick the droplets of water from her neck inciting soft whimpers from her, " Jesus, you taste so heavenly " he whispers huskily before trailing his tongue down to give her breasts the attention they deserve, " So perfect, so good to me " he murmurs, sliding further down until he was at face level with her slick pussy, he spreads her leg further to lick a long and leisure stripe from her clit down to her pussy before his tongue darts in which in turn caused her to arch her back off the bed.

" Rúben " She whines, one hand grips the bedsheets while the other threads through his hair, tugging in response to his tongue drawing shapes as it moved her inside her walls, the sensation only intensified when his thumb rubbed her clit, she cries. " Oh Fuck "

He settled into the position nicely, his gaze fixated on her while he continued to devour her like a starved man relishing in the soft sounds she released coupled with the pleasure evident across her features, once she had reached her high, he lapped up every drop of her arousal then pulled back to climb up and meet her dazed out gaze. " You want to tell me what's wrong now? " he whispers.

Instead of responding she decides to close the distance between them, deepening the kiss between them the same time her legs wrap around his torso prompting him to thrust his cock inside of her without so much of a warning, she moaned into his mouth, their tongues colliding with one another.

" Amor " He groans, " Why are you sad? "

" Shhh " She whispers, deepening the kiss then meeting his thrusts with her own subtle movements which incited a guttural groan from him. " Just fuck me "

And so he did, they reach their high together, with Rúben collapsing next to her then whispering, " That was amazing! "

It was right then that she turned to him and said, " I'm done "

The abrupt tone coupled with her hardened gaze caused him to sit up with a confused expression across his face, " What do you mean? "

She follows suit, " I think you know what I mean "

" What ... Why? " He states, " Did I do something wrong? "

" Yes, you did Rúben, constantly being ashamed to say that we're dating or in this case fucking, brushing me off in public whenever I tried to show the slightest bit of affection around our friends, not to mention - you never ever treated me like a person, just a piece of meat you can stick your cock into and be done with it " She states, growing tired of withholding her emotions.

He stares at her, a mixture of shock coupled with a tiny bit of impassiveness. " So, I thought you already knew "

Her jaw tightens, " It's stupid of me to think that we can be anything more than whatever this is " she chuckles dryly before her face hardens. " Get out "

He frowns, " What? "

" You heard me, I said get out, we are done " She states, fighting back the tears that are threatening to fall.

Rúben was silent before he stood up and began to get dressed while she watched him, and just before he left he turns to her. " Are you sure about this? "

" Yes, I'm done being the dirty little secret you have " She states, emotionlessly before breaking down once she heard the door slam shut, effectively settling in with the reality that she was free of his clutches.

[whollyfree]

If you’re in a writing mood, I’d love some fluffy josh content🥺maybe you had a stressful day at work and he just takes good care of you with lots of cuddles and loving

You almost never arrived home after Josh. This was why when Josh cheesily sang "honey, I'm home," as he entered the front door, he became confused when the house was dead silent. He ventured around your shared space thinking he was going absolutely insane. How do you lose your own girlfriend?

When Josh's phone that rested in his back pocket pinged, he knew instantly that it was you.

You: Sorry, gonna be late tonight :( having a really long day

Josh frowned, wanting to hug you through the screen somehow.

Josh: No worries. I'll be here baby

He slips his phone back into his pocket and looks around, almost lost as to what he was supposed to do for the time being. He loved coming home to you. As soon as you heard his keys jingling in the lock of your front door, you were there to attack him in a hug before the two of you lost yourself in breathless kisses and giggles. Now he knew how you felt.

Sulking like a lost puppy around the house, an idea popped into his head. He smiled to himself as he formed his master plan. He made quick work of making the bed from this morning. You were already running late and so was he, so the two of you reluctantly forfeited the chore to do later.

Josh vacuumed the shared rug and the space of the bedroom, dusting and polishing the furniture strategically placed to make the room appear more open. He realized something was missing, and quickly padded to the record player before placing a Wilson Pickett vinyl upon it.

Blues music filled his senses, and he wished you were there to laugh at him as he attempted his best embarrassing dance moves. He carried on tidying up the bathroom before making his way to the living room. He readjusted the pillows and folded the blankets neatly on the blanket ladder that Karen had got the two of you as a housewarming gift.

Josh did the dishes quickly and with ease, worried that you would pop through the door before he had the opportunity to start the dinner he planned to make special for you: pasta. He had heard you request it too many times to count, but this would be the first night you would share it in your new home.

He looked like a madman, tossing an apron on and attempting to tie it as he reached for pots and all of the ingredients he needed. Ideally, Josh wanted it to be ready for you the second you walked in the door.

He knew you were past the point of exhaustion before you even stepped through the door, and when you did, you were nearly brought to tears at the sight before you.

There was Josh, stirring a pot of pesto sauce in a much too small apron, his eyes lighting up when he sees you. His cheeks were tinted an adorable pink color from all of the work he had been doing around the house.

"Hi, sunshine," his lips curve in a smile and you notice his dimple making its special appearance as you walk toward him. "I'm making that pesto you've been dreaming about."

"It smells amazing," you breathe out and you wrap your arms around him. "Hi."

"Hi," he catches your lazy smile in a kiss and you finally feel yourself relax for the first time in the day. All of the tenseness in your muscles releases as he holds you tight and parts his lips from yours. You felt like jello in his arms; partly because of your insane day and the other part was due to Josh's effect on you whenever he so much as glanced your way.

"Oh, you're tired, baby," he mumbles into your hair and you groan in agreement. You felt him chuckle into your hair before he attempts to pull away from you.

You grunt and keep him in your grip. "Just a little longer."

"Ok," he laughs. "But after this, I want you to go and take a shower and dinner will be ready the moment you're done."

"Alright," you all but whimper and release yourself from him. "Thank you."

"For what?" His eyebrow quirks up as he continues to stir the pot.

"All this, babe," you gesture to all of the ingredients (albeit) messily scattered across the counter. You give a chaste kiss to his lips and he says something to the effect of "of course." Who even knows? You're way too tired to hardly form a coherent thought.

You trudge to the master bathroom to shower off all of the stress from your day, still smelling the wonderful scent of the dinner Josh was so graciously making for you. Another smile graces your features as you take in the cleanliness of the shared bedroom and the neatly made bed before you. All you really wanted to do was envelop yourself in it, but you followed Josh's orders and showered anyway.

Following your much-needed shower, you dressed in an old ratty T-shirt and your favorite pair of Josh's boxers and made your way back to the kitchen. Josh had placed two bowls of pasta on the table as well as a bottle of wine paired with two glasses.

"Sorry, I'm a bit overdressed," you crack a joke and he chuckles.

"You look beautiful as always, sunshine," he presses a kiss to your newly blushed cheek before pulling out your chair for you.

Following dinner and a few too many drinks, your eyes are nearly closing at the table. You tried your best to remain tuned in to whatever Josh was saying, but exhaustion was taking over every part of you. He caught on quickly, and stopped himself from his exaggerated story of some prank he pulled on Jake yesterday.

He grins toward you, watching your eyes flutter closed and your head begin to fall lower as you sat in your chair. He tried to be as quiet as he could, getting up and sliding his chair underneath the table. Much to his dismay, the chair made the loudest sound possible as it scratched against the wood.

Your head shot up quickly as your eyes met his. "I'm sorry, baby, what were you saying?"

He shook his head with a solemn smile. "You're exhausted, love. Let's get you to bed."

You pouted as Josh scooped you up in his arms. Nuzzling your head into the side of his neck, inhaling his familiar scent as you nearly felt yourself drifting off again. Your eyes slightly opened as your body fell against the soft mattress, Josh peeling the comforter back and tucking it under you.

"I'll go and clean up, okay? I'll be right back," he promises, but you weren't having it.

"Josh," your voice was hardly there, but he still turns around quickly. "Please stay."

He could never say no to you, and you knew that. So, he grinned and peeled off his clothes and crawled under the comforter next to you. He pulls your body into his and releases a sigh before planting a kiss to your forehead. With your body now curled into his, you found yourself drifting off again in the safety of his embrace. You couldn't fight the sleepy smile on your face, and he saw it and smiled down at you again.

"I'm not going anywhere anytime soon, baby. Promise."

Share your thoughts/feedback! | Masterlist

[sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame]

Summary: Marko makes you dinner sometimes.

Brought to you by; my personal philosophy on how much immortality would fucking suck, how much I want to bone the lost boys, and how much I love Italian food, although I like lobster ravioli with vodka sauce way more than stuffed shells u guys it's literally perfect. Also I decided to write a full fic for once lmao 🤪🤪🤪

Warnings: very brief mention of police brutality but the cops die lol, some mentions of sexual content, cursing, drug mentions, general violence, unedited ramblings of a madwoman who's procrastinating finishing the third draft of her novel.

Black reader, mention of reader wearing a bonnet and earrings, and having locs!! But I don't Think any specific gender stuff. ***Non-Black people are 100% allowed to read and interact btw just please don't be racist lol

Marko would cook you Italian food sometimes.

It would always come out weird, and he would only do it out of the blue.

It'd be in the middle of the night, when they'd all decided to completely raid your house because you'd worked an early shift that morning and were sleeping in entirely too late for their tastes.

They'd be clamoring and making a bunch of noise at first before they realized half an hour had passed and you were still snoring.

It was late, and they'd eaten already. They wouldn't go as far as to brush their teeth for you, but a quick swig from the now empty bottle of tequila belonging to someone at the bonfire would be enough to take away the taste of iron in their mouths.

Dwayne would buy gum every once in a while. He wanted you to feel it one day—the steel warmth of a fresh kill on your tongue melding with the taste of booze, weed, and the same damn thing on his, but he couldn't pretend there was no part of him that liked you not knowing.

None of them would if they ever decided to be honest with themselves about it.

Sometimes it was nice to hear you snoring.

You'd wake up, somewhere around three in the morning, you'd guess. You were still too tired to accurately read the clock on your nightstand.

You'd adjust your bonnet and step out into the living room, following the smell that'd permeated your home and made your mouth water in your dreams. You were never surprised to see them.

You'd say they'd follow you to the ends of the earth if you ever decided to be honest with yourself.

You were surprised to see Marko, standing at your stove in your green tiled kitchen, looking at your pink non-stick pans with a scowl on his face while the rest of your boys talked about where they'd go once you woke up.

The answer to their conversation was absolutely nowhere. You were still wearing the bamboo hoop earrings you'd forgotten to take off the night before and rubbing at the indents they'd left in your neck, shuddering every time you'd brush against the scars and bruises they'd left on you simply because you'd begged for it so nicely.

There wasn't a chance you'd step out of the house until Monday morning. Every shift made you wonder if you should just ask.

For their lives, or lack thereof, for their blood, for forever with them in the same town doing the same things until the sun exploded and you'd die with the people you'd grow to see as prey.

Every time you thought about it—Eternity—it was too much. Too big. Way too big a thought for three in the morning.

"Hey Doll," David drawled. You'd mumble out a hello back, a sly smile on your face as you shuffled towards him wrapping your arms around him—partially because the cool leather of his jacket and his big arms wrapped around you felt nice, but mostly because you were tired of supporting your own weight.

Paul was on you in a second, kissing whatever skin he could reach from his awkward position before you turned your head to make out with him, drowsy and horny and happy to be touched.

"Baby," he'd pout after you'd pull back, "you said we'd hang on the boardwalk tonight. That band you like is playing."

You scowl even then, "I like them, but not enough to go out after a twelve hour shift. You guys can go—" your words were cut off by an obnoxiously loud yawn, "—see them if you want, I'm off for the weekend thank god, I'll be here tomorrow."

Dwayne would come up to you then, rubbing your back and pushing a loc that had somehow escaped your bonnet back in place. He'd be frowning. He'd never get used to seeing you tired, or hungry, or thirsty, or anything near the realm of unhappy if he was honest.

He'd never tell you to quit though. He'd just imply it. And maybe imply how fun it would be to commit arson again to his men.

You'd jump a bit in David's arms when the incredibly kitsch Garfield kitchen timer you'd begged them to buy you with money they stole from someone that only a small part of you hoped was still alive. You regretted getting it often, but not often enough.

Marko reached to grab the dish with his bare hands and you had to yell to remind him to put on gloves. Even in your sleep-deprived state you were shocked he'd actually listened.

Soon you were being ushered to your couch, the still on tv in your living room playing nothing but static. You needled through your collection of tapes for all of two seconds before you picked up the first thing that looked like it'd be some decent background noise, shoving into your VCR and opening your eyes for long enough to watch that look they all got in their eyes when you turned on the tv.

You think David had seen one growing up, he'd mention he'd been around since sometime in the fifties, but from the way he described his child you were sure he hadn't owned one.

Dwayne, you think, worried a lot about it. He was the second oldest out of all of them and he'd seen things that you were sure you couldn't imagine, he'd been around since before this country was stolen and he'd lived through hells you wish you could erase from his mind but the cast of light from the screen on his face illuminated that glimmer of wonder and fear in his eyes. You hoped one day he'd tell you what he was afraid of.

Paul looked like a kid in a candy store nearly every second of every day. All you had to day was smile at him or lift up your top and he'd start giggling like a school girl. He quieted whenever you put on a movie on. He'd lift up his arm like he expected you'd always be there to take up the space next to him, and he'd go back and forth from staring at you and the tv like he wanted something he couldn't have. You didn't think he'd had many moments nowadays where he couldn't get what he wanted. If his smile didn't look so fake, you'd think maybe it'd be good for him.

Marko was old. You didn't think so at first, no one would. He had a baby face that would've gotten him carded at every event you went to if it wasn't for mind control and he acted on impulse more than any person or animal you'd ever met. There were wild, rabid squirrels that acted with more caution, thought, and patience than Marko. But he was old. He'd never told you how old, but you could see it. It hadn't taken long.

He'd always walk on the side of you closest to the road, he'd hold open every door, and he'd never let you pay for your own drinks, food, stuffed animals, arcade games—he'd practically jumped a carnie once to get you a stuffed animal that slept next to you in bed every night since then.

But they all did that, sometimes to a less dramatic extent, but it wasn't anything new.

You knew Marko was old when he stared at a stamp with the Mona Lisa on it and smiled, turning to you and saying something in Italian before wincing to himself and shaking his head. He refused to tell you what it was he said and dragged you over to go pick out a bracelet for him to shoplift for you.

You knew he was old when he stared at the water on the beach and told you how much he hates how murky it is here.

"I wouldn't have left if I'd known the water would look the same," he'd said.

He had told you when you'd asked that he meant Italy. He wouldn't answer when you asked him when.

Marko never looked at the tv much. You hoped it was because he didn't care, but you knew he'd never tell you.

You'd shoved half of a stuffed shell into your face, thankful you'd had ricotta and even more thankful they'd used the ground pork you'd started defrosting that morning, you wouldn't have had it in you to use it until next Sunday, probably.

"How is it, sweet cheeks?" He'd called you cocoa powder, chocolate cake, cocoa butter, and all other variants of food related nicknames a good three days into knowing you. It took a long conversation about race with you and Dwayne to get him to stop, and he'd settled for sweet cheeks. You wondered how he could go so long without realizing how bad things had been. You'd never seen him look more angry than when you'd talked about all the times the Santa Carla police department had followed you, threatened you, hit you, called you out your name. They all had, but he'd looked surprised first and foremost. He swore on that day when he'd come back with blood trailing down his face and emptied a bag full of police badges on to the ground in front of where you stood that he'd never eat a black person from that day forward.

"Reparations." He'd smiled. It was all red-stained teeth.

There wasn't much of you that felt bad.

"It's perfect," you said through a second mouthful of pasta. It wasn't, it needed salt, the shells were just a bit too undercooked, and there wasn't enough oregano for your tastes, but that didn't mean it wasn't heavenly.

He'd made it. He'd made it for you, because he'd wanted to. And you were tired, and a little tipsy from the glass of moscato someone had slid in your hand sometime after you'd climbed onto Paul's lap. It could've tasted like wet cardboard, you would've been thrilled regardless.

"Where'd you learn to cook like that?" You asked.

You were just coherent enough to see that sad look on Paul's face make it's way into Marko's. His big doe eyes creasing at the corners.

'He'll never get crows feet,' you thought, 'probably wouldn't if he was human either.'

You knew there was no answer coming, so you turned your attention to the little boy from the never ending story hiding out in his attic and beginning to read his book.

"Rome." He whispered.

You didn't think you were supposed to hear him, even though you were sure he saw you freeze after he'd said it.

You looked at him from the other side of your small, dingy couch you'd forced them to help you move, check for bedbugs, and reupholster—as a fun bonding activity, of course.

There was a blood stain on the fabric that hadn't come out somewhere on the underside. It was such a pretty green you'd felt bad using hydrogen peroxide, so, you pretended.

Just like you'd pretend Marko wasn't looking at you like you were perfect. Like if he could he'd tattoo every forehead wrinkle, every breath you took, every pimple, split end, and scar into his brain.

Like you pretend he didn't ever look at you and wonder what life was like.

You beamed at him, and took another bite of the pasta, watching as his eyes shifted and he became your Marko again. The animal who wanted nothing more than to keep you safe, and fed, and on his cock. Or his fingers, or tongue, whatever kept you distracted for long enough to not notice how little of him was left.

How many times had David lied to you and told you how thrilling existing without any attachments was? How many times had Dwayne offered you his jacket and whispered something under his breath about how you wouldn't be needing it forever? How many times had Paul pouted and teased you when you'd told him you needed to pace yourself after he'd tossed back his thirtieth shot?

How many times would Marko recreate a recipe his Nonna probably taught him and pretend the years he'd spent traveling the world made up for the fact that he'd never gotten a chance to see her again?

You cringed when you heard the little boy screaming as his horse drowned in tar, scrambling for the remote and sighing with relief when David started fast-forwarding through the scene, like he always did.

One day you'd ask them. If they actually did think it was worth it.

Maybe one day they'd be honest with themselves. Maybe one day they'd let themselves mourn.

That day would come long after you'd mourned for them. Probably not too long after you'd start to mourn with them.

But that day was nowhere close to right now. Right now you'd finish your pasta and use the two hours left before sunrise to make out with them.

You promised yourself at least once every week that you'd talk about these moments forever.

No matter how much it may hurt to talk about.

[rockingrobin69]

Losing, lost

Salt. Draco looked at the list, the one he spent over ten minutes writing, and which now comprised of two items: garlic and soy milk. What was the other—right, salt. And shampoo. The lemony one that Potter commented on, if he finds it again. And tomato sauce. Maybe spaghetti, so he can try to make—salt, he still didn’t write salt. Draco sighed, rubbed his eyes.

Focus, gods be damned. Fo-cus. This wasn’t so fucking hard. He had to finish here, so he could take a bloody shower, go to the shops and then… well. Who knows.

Even though he decided strictly against it not even fifteen minutes ago, Draco put down the pen. Reached for his pocket. Gave the black screen a little pet, for luck, took a deep breath… oh. Still nothing.

Fine. He didn’t expect anything yet. Didn’t expect anything, at all; it was Potter who came to him, Potter who said, it can only be us. That if he had any hopes of fooling the press, it had to be Draco’s hand in his, for whatever idiotic reason.

Even if he did wink afterwards. Even if he failed to explain exactly what this harebrained scheme would entail. Even if it’s been three whole weeks, and Draco was losing his absolute mind—

Urgh. He sighed, elbow sliding down the table till his cheek rested on the wood. The list, right in front of his nose, glared at him two itemed-ly. He still didn’t write salt.

Draco closed his eyes, about to embark on the worst five-minute wallow cruise, party of one, when the world erupted into flames. No, just his mobile, with the horrifying ringtone Potter set up. His hands shook so much that the entire thing jumped, hitting the table and then down to the floor; he dove after it, cursing quietly all the while, and when he finally hit the tiny green key he was on all fours.

“Po—Harry? Hello? Hello?”

“Draco?” his voice was crackly. The mobile slipped and fell a final time, with a thud. “Draco? Are you all right?”

“Yes, yes, I just, gods,” Draco’s head thunked on the floor next to the cursed device. It was so dirty down here. He really needs to hoover more. “Sorry, did you say something?”

“Hmm? No. nothing.”

But he could swear he heard something. If Potter was laughing at him, he will be sorry.

“Listen—”

“Hey, so—”

Draco hit his head again for good measure. “What? Sorry. You go.”

“I just wanted to know if I could come by later?”

“Erm. Why?”

“Wh… what do you mean, why?”

“I mean, why.” He was already on the floor, already out of his mind, so why not finally, finally ask. “There are no cameras in my flat. You said—the whole idea was to present an act, right? In front of someone?”

More muffled sounds. “Draco… can we talk about it in person? I can come over, and—”

“No.” He’s been playing the fool for too long. Losing sleep, losing focus and his goddamned mind. Losing, loser, lost. “Tell me now.”

“I... fuck. I dream about that lemony smell.”

“Pardon?”

“Your—the shampoo. I dream about it. Every night. Wishing I had… that you were with me. Draco? You still there?”

“Yes.” But he had no idea what to say. What to make of this without being delusional, without breaking his own heart. “I don’t know what that means.”

Potter sighed. It was so loud in his ear. “It means I’m not just doing it for the press. That it was never actually…”

“Come over, then,” Draco said before it all becomes too much. “Tonight. I can cook, that spaghetti you liked. I’m going to the shops, could pick up… yes?”

“Yes.” He sounded relieved. Something in Draco’s belly writhed with dreadful joy.

“Good. See you later.” He had to finish the list, take a bloody shower. Then maybe get to the bottom of this whole thing. Draco picked himself up from the floor, sat back down, grabbed the pen. Okay.

Joy was a very distracting feeling, it turned out. He never got salt in the end, but they never actually noticed.    

For my dearest @phoebe-delia, 700 words for ‘It can only be us’. By the way, you can prompt me too!    

[zvdvdlvr]

i’m not sure if this is where you request but could you please do another kevin from tmc fic? like maybe where they have a small ‘should we, should we not moment’ because they’re just friends and they don’t wanna ruin their relationship in case something happens to them

what the head wants, what the heart wants.

🫀synopsis. Kevin gets lost in the sauce.

🫀 warnings. Awkward teenagers. Bad writing.

🫀 playlist. Track one. Track two. Track three.

“Hey, you,” Kevin greeted, letting himself fall onto y/n’s bed. It had been y/n’s sixth month at the home, meaning that he was basically required to get her something to celebrate the days she lived. 

Y/n smiled and closed her book. “What’s up, Kevin?” It was not abnormal for one of the two to show up in the other’s room. Honestly, Kevin and y/n were some of the closest friends of the people in the house. A classic case of ‘joined-at-the-hip’ if you asked Dr. Stanton.

Kevin wiggled his eyebrows. “Well… it’s your sixth month here, so I uh… I got you something.” Kevin revealed a small box wrapped in newspaper. “I know that you really like the medical system and anatomy and stuff like that, so…” Kevin watched y/n accept the gift with gentle hands. Her dingers lightly brushed his, making Kevin flush slightly. 

A smile tore into y/n’s face, making her eyes light up at the jewelry in the box. “It’s-“ 

“It’s a-“

Without getting another word out, Kevin was taken aback by the way y/n launched herself at him. Her hands wrapped around Kevin’s neck, her body laying practically on top of his. She smothered her laughter in Kevin’s neck. Kevin unconsciously wrapped his arms around her and leaned into her touch. He couldn’t help but smile. “You’re welcome,” he murmured, resting his chin on y/n’s shoulder. 

When y/n finally pulled away, she smiled her smile: genuine and bright. “Thank you so much, Kevin. Will you put it on me?” 

After placing the cranium pendant around y/n’s neck, y/n turned back around and struck a pose jokingly. “Whaddaya think?” She asked, watching the smile that pulled at Kevin’s lips.

“I love it. You- it looks gorgeous,” he murmurs, heart pounding at the little distance between the two. 

“Thank you,” y/n said again.

Silence fell upon the two. As they sat, observing each other for what felt like an eternity or so, Kevin’s eyes flickered between y/n’s eyes and her face. “Y/n,” he started, words trailing off his tongue. 

“Yeah?” The teen asked in a similarly breathless voice.

“Can… can I kiss you?” He asked cautiously.

“I want too, but… Should we?”

In his head, Kevin knew it wasn’t a smart idea to get attatched to another teenager sentanced to death; in his heart, Kevin wanted nothing more than to take y/n into his arms and overwhelm her with his affection. 

“Do you want to?” 

Y/n gnawed at her lip, goosebumps travelling up her arms and back and the gaze Kevin was pinning her down with. Yes, absolutely. Y/n wanted to be kissed by Kevin, but there’s always that looming cloud in the back of her mind. What if I die tomorrow? What if Kevin does tomorrow? What if I fall asleep and never wake up tonight? What if Kevin falls asleed and doesn’t wake up tonight? What if-

“Yes.” y/n planted her hands on Kevin’s cheeks and pulled him to her lips. 

[shannaraisles]

Unravelled - for @memaidraws

A commission for the fabulous @memaidraws, who has been an absolute star through the whole process - thank you, lovely!

Unravelled

Four cast pots, two iron pans, the campfire expanded to accommodate not only the broiling and boiling but also the baking and warming of various ingredients before they came together into a meal fit for kings.

Kings of the road, perhaps, but still kings for one night. Kings every night, when it was Gale of Waterdeep’s turn to cook. A man of dedicated taste and refined palate, he scoured each market and store they came across in search of new spices and flavourings, or to restock his supplies of those they already had. Rae was no slouch when it came to cooking himself, but he had to admit, Gale took it to an entirely different level. The others might complain about how long dinner took to make when the wizard was in charge of it, but there were never complaints about the quality when it finally arrived. 

It was a fascinating process to watch, too; the meat carefully dressed and trimmed, seared to perfection before it was wrapped in sturdy, flavoursome leaves and tucked into the warm embers at the far edge of the flames to bake slowly as sauces and vegetables were prepared with diligent care and attention to detail to some rhythm only Gale knew. And there was rhythm to it; a musical quality to each spoon swirled through some sticky soft mixture, or fork speared into the flesh of a tuber or brace of greens, testing their readiness with expert knowledge.

But Rae wasn’t watching purely to enjoy the aesthetic of Gale’s form as he cooked, oh no. Gale of Waterdeep had spent long years in a tower with only a tressym for company, and he had picked up a habit in her presence that he had never quite lost in her absence. Gale talked to himself as he cooked, and the subject of tonight’s curious ramblings was none other than their not-so-glorious leader, Rae himself. 

“If this were my tower, I could at the very least send out for pheasant or squid,” the wizard was muttering as Rae approached from behind. “Alas, a decent cut of beef and basic herbs shall have to do. But when we reach Baldur’s Gate, things will be different.”

His fingers flickered through a complicated sigil in mid-air, and a clutch of fresh rosemary appeared in his grasp, apparently freshly picked through the Weave from someone’s garden. Rae bit down a smile, hoping that garden was far enough away that no one would tie a mystery herb thief to the strange group that had just passed through their little town. Gale ripped the leaves from the woody stalks, crushing each just a little between his fingers before sprinkling his bounty into the pot before him.

“Baldur’s Gate will have everything I need,” the man continued, seemingly talking to mid-air. Rae couldn’t help but wonder if he was actually talking to Tara through the Weave somehow; anything was possible with Gale. “Perhaps I should forgo preparing the meal myself? It would make the evening seem more special, more deliberate. We could visit the Elfsong Tavern, though it is a very common sort of place. Perhaps one of the restaurants in the Wide ... The Heroes’ Feast, perhaps. It does have an excellent reputation, and Rae has expressed an interest in the heroes of the Bhaalspawn War. An evening of conversation with the grandchildren of Gorion’s ward might be just the ticket. And the food, I am told is excellent.” 

Rae’s brows rose; Gale was making plans for time they could spend together, just the two of them? And worrying, as he did over everything, about what would make it perfect. It was somehow both infuriating and endearing that Gale seemed to have no idea that just his presence was enough to make an evening perfect.

”But he seems to enjoy my labours in this area; it would be a travesty if the food were below par,” Gale went on, lifting a spoon to taste some mysterious concoction that somehow managed to sparkle briefly in the flicker of magic at his fingertips. “If their tales are of good enough quality, they could be invited to the tower as company - entertainment for the evening, perhaps. But if we are to go that far to seek entertainment for one evening, then would it not be better to take him to experience the theatre?”

There was a pause, no doubt for the expected response from Tara who was not present and therefore had nothing to say. But Gale still seemed to get a response of some sort, whether from the real tressym at some distance or from the imagined version of her in his mind’s eye, for he nodded sagely as though in answer to some comment, stepping to one side to flip the bread frying in a pan to the other side before adding it to the stack of already perfectly created flatbreads resting on a plate close by. 

“No, of course, the theatre is far too mundane,” he mused. “He has no doubt seen every production worth seeing already, and would know the quality of the players in the Gate far better than I. But in Waterdeep, we could take him - I could take him to The Yawning Portal; adventurers a-plenty there to whet his appetite for tales, and Durnan can be trusted to provide a more sheltered seat in one of the upper galleries in case the Undermountain decides to send a visitor to the main floor. It is a rather rowdy place, though, and quiet does seem to suit him better than raucous distraction ...”

He lapsed into silence for a long moment, unaware that the object of his eager affections was so close and so aware of every word he said. Rae felt his heart swell with each word; how had he not noticed how very much Gale wanted to impress and delight him? Had he been too acutely aware of his own uncertainties and perceived shortcomings that he had missed this adorable fumbling toward some grand gesture that might please? He couldn’t help but be grateful for the unspoken agreement among the entire party that anything Gale said while cooking was to be ignored and never spoken of again. Some things were too personal to tease about. 

“I have it!”

Gale snapped his fingers, the sudden sound startling Rae almost into revealing himself as the Wizard of Waterdeep beamed at no one across the fire in front of him. 

“We shall dine in my tower, but it shall be cloaked in the Weave, and wherever his fancy takes him, that shall be our entertainment,” he declared to no one in particular. “Exhausting for myself, of course, but nothing is too great a stretch for my love.” He sighed, seeming to sag for a moment, his voice softening with impossible desire. “I would give him the world, if I but had it within my grasp.”

Rae smiled, his heart somehow both melting and hammering in his chest at the tenderness in his lover’s voice. This was enough torture for one night, surely?

“I would rather a lifetime of ordinary evenings at your side, than watch you destroy yourself in the search for one perfect night.”

Gale straightened hurriedly, his head turning with affected nonchalance at the sound of his lover’s gentle approach.

“Ah.” He offered up a sheepish smile. “I don’t suppose I could convince you to forget you heard all that, could I?”

Rae’s smile flickered, somehow awkwardly shy yet brimming with unexpected confidence, fingertips ghosting down along Gale’s spine as the other hand reached for the package of baking beef. It was ... rather wonderful, to know he was not the only one in this relationship still feeling his way toward certainty. 

“I would rather forget how to touch the Weave than forget how much you love me,” he said, feeling his cheeks warm with how bold his words seemed, dropping his gaze to the food. “Any night with you is the perfect night, because I am with you. That is all that matters, Gale, truly.”

Gale sighed through a soft smile, unconsciously leaning into Rae’s side as they stood close together beside the busy campfire. His head lowered just enough to rest, temple to temple, against Rae’s, the two of them cloaked in a stillness of their own affectionate making amid the quiet bustle of their party’s evening camp. 

“I would give you nothing but perfection, if it were mine to give,” Gale murmured, twisting a little to brush his knuckles against Rae’s smooth cheek.

“I don’t need perfection, love,” Rae whispered, daring to raise his eyes to meet the tenderly adoring gaze levelled upon him. “I have you.”

“That you do.”

The brush of knuckles turned, Gale’s gentle palm curling to Rae’s cheek to draw him close. Lips covered lips, softness flavoured with the delicate prickle of hair that somehow heightened the experience, sweet and sinful and oh, so wonderful. For just one moment, even the Weave could have unravelled and everything would still have been perfect.

“Oh, blast it all, I forgot the spice,” Gale suddenly declared, pulling from the kiss in a distracted huff at his own sense of failure.

Rae bit down a laugh at the abrupt end to what could have been a perfect moment for a lot longer, and reached for the little pot that was currently the focus of his lover’s ire. 

“Show me what to do with it?” he suggested, tilting his head with curious interest.

Gale looked at him, his eyes flickering from the little spice pot in one hand to the sweet softness of the lips he had just abandoned, to the warm interest in the eyes that held him in thrall. His own lips curved in an unthinking smile, unable to resist the siren’s call of the man who had captured his heart so thoroughly without even seeming to try. 

“Come here,” he said, gathering Rae into his side to draw him to the appropriate pot. “You need just a pinch, in this one ...” And here and now, as they talked and touched and learned each other in ways more binding than simple lust-fueled intimacy, among friends in the wilderness between their respective worlds where each thread did not need to be woven to become a fabric of infinite possibility ... this was perfect.

[safyresky]

@lmelodie, you rang? ;)

Scrimbly Jacqueline 5/52, ft scrimbly Blaise #2 AND a scrimbly Jack! with EXTRA SCRIMBLE FOR JACK! Follow up/part 2 to this one from yesterday lol

Jack is absolutely FLABBERGASTED at his present state. Blaise is absolutely DELIGHTED he can still pick up his grown-ass son like a sack of potatoes, and as for Jacqueline? It's just another Tuesday for her ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

lmels, I read your tags and could not stop thinking about a disgruntled Jack in Blaise's OTHER arm. When I say this one had ZERO DRAFTS AND JUST APPEARED LIKE BAM DURING TODAY'S (excruciatingly long) ALLSTAFF MEETING, I AIN'T PLAYING!!!

I coloured it at home tho! I have these nice markers, alcohol based?? Richard got them for me in Poland AGES AGO and they blend and have such bright popping colours! I do NOT have a white/light grey so Jacqueline's going for ice this week, I suppose. I did NOT colour the jacket arms, I got lost in the sauce and so excited I HAD to post it. I may fully colour it! but I only have like, 3 blues so WE'LL SEE. MAYBE THE COLD FRONT WILL BE TWINNING TONIGHT.

ANYWAY. ENJOY! Blaise has my whole entire heart too and he is soo happy here it has made my evening 🥰🥰🥰

[instantmilkinacup]

Residual Hauntings: Part One

A/N: Welcome to Residual Hauntings! I hope you enjoy the first full chapter! This is a Ghostbusters story following the events of GB: Afterlife, including an OC of mine.

Word Count: 1k

Hazzadelle was easily the worst cook in the Spengler family. It wasn't even an argument that needed to be made, she really was just the absolute worst at it. Couldn’t even cook eggs without burning some of them. So whenever the oldest sibling came home from college, she was always benched during meal preparation to avoid a repeat of the 2014 soy sauce incident that nearly burned down the dishwasher. Don't ask how it happened, everyone involved was sworn to secrecy to avoid secondhand embarrassment.

Hazzie was sidelined currently, watching her mother rummage through the kitchen idly as Phoebe read her current book while sitting in the chair closest to her sister. Hazzie tugged on one of the chocolate brown curls that had escaped her haphazard bun, watching it spring back up with a sigh. It was a full month and a half into summer break, and she should not have been this bored again already. It was weird to think it had been under a month since the whole ghost thing went down. But here they all were, sitting inside an old house still undergoing renovations with a whole ghost-busting business in the basement. Hazzie had come home from Georgetown University for the summer, and then ended up in a middle of nowhere town called Summerville in Oklahoma and almost died while fighting a ghost who had a massive God complex (and was apparently some sort of god). But now they were left to sort through the mess they had put off while saving the whole damn town from a literal invasion.

“Hey Addie,” Her mother asked, looking to where her oldest daughter sat with her head down on the dining room table from her place in the kitchen. Hazzie looked up, letting out a hum in response, “could you get the table set? My hands are a bit full here.” The oldest Spengler girl didn’t protest, slipping out of her seat and heading towards the cabinets. Before she left though, Hazzie ruffled Phoebe’s hair, which earned her a grunt and a hand swat from the youngest in the house.

Hazzadelle took out plates, napkins, and silverware, stacking them atop each other and carefully carrying it all over with two hands back to the dining room table. She started with the plates, moving in a clockwise fashion till each one was in its respective spot. Then came the silverware, a knife, and a fork each rolled in a napkin like how fancy restaurants with cloth napkins have them. Why did Hazzie do it this way? Aesthetic appeal, that’s why. She followed the same clockwise path, placing the silverware on the left-hand side of the plates. A pitcher of water and cups had also been brought to the table, courtesy of Pheobe. Her lips twitched slightly at the sight of a perfectly in-order dining table, nice and clean and crisp before it got ruined. Oh, the small joys in life. 

The smell of dinner was becoming much more fragrant, toasting soft shells and melting cheese filling the air with an easily identifiable smell. It was cheese quesadillas, meaning that Pheobe had gotten the first pick on choosing the meal for tonight. It was a solid choice, Callie did always make delectable quesadillas. Phoebe had perked right up at the smell, sliding into her seat with eager patience. Even Trevor had lumbered down the stairs, having been up there for a good portion of the evening.

“Aaanndd dinner is served!” Callie said, carrying over a plate of steaming quesadillas to the table with a bright smile. She took the seat at the head of the table, watching as her children snatched at the food, “Jeez, it’s like you all didn’t eat all day.”

Trevor shrugged, having already eaten halfway through a quesadilla, “I’ve been working on a new motherboard piece for the computers downstairs. Lost track of time.” Callie nodded, she knew all her kids were fully invested in the ghost-hunting business. Although they haven’t had an opportunity to really use any of the equipment again, she found no harm in letting them mess around with it– as long as it didn’t put her kids in mortal danger again. Plus, she was starting to find a small fascination in it herself, once she slowly began to process all the gadgets and gizmos of course. 

Hazzie sat with her legs in a criss-cross position on the chair, how the position was comfortable for long periods of time was a mystery, but the brunette fell into the category of those who enjoyed odd chair positions. She munched quietly on a quesadilla, hazel eyes blankly staring out the nearest window. Phoebe sat next to her, waving a hand in front of her face to get her attention. Hazzie was still focused on the food, it was pretty good; her mom made great quesadillas. Phoebe snapped her fingers, which finally drew Hazzie’s attention to her, “sorry Pheebs, I zoned out.”

Phoebe paid no mind to the apology, “Do you want to help me sort through the boxes left in the basement?” That’s right, Hazzie remembered, she had been helping Phoebe with that yesterday. 

“Yeah, I can do that” She agreed without much hesitation. Phoebe nodded, a ghost of a smile crossing her face momentarily.

The rest of dinner went on without a hitch, with light conversation here and there but otherwise, it was just a calm atmosphere in the house on that summer evening. Trevor was put on dish duty for the night, leaving the sisters to depart from the table to do as they wished for the rest of the evening and somewhat into the hours of the night. Hazzie stood first, wiping the nonexistent dirt off her blue jeans as she took the hair tie out of her hair. Phoebe pushed back her chair, heading towards the basement door. She only cast a slight glance over her shoulder to make sure Hazzie was following, which she was doing while fussing with her hair to get it back up in a halfway decent bun. Phoebe pushed open the creaky door, switching on the small light before they descended the stairs and into the depths.

[romanoffmorelikebromanoff]

absolutely lost in the chronic illness-driven grief for my past self sauce tonight

[brightgnosis]

I listened to the episode 2.5 of the Jewish Ancestral Healing podcast ('Ashkenazi Herbalism with Deatra Cohen and Adam Siegel') tonight while I prepped and made Orange Chicken for the household's dinner tonight.

I really enjoyed the episode, and got a few new leads to look at regarding books; it was so enlightening and beautiful listening to Deatra speak ... But I absolutely lost it for a moment and broke down sobbing when Deatra closed out the episode with their prayer ???

"May all beings be filled with loving kindness. May beings be safe from inner and outer dangers. May all beings be well in body and mind and spirit. May all beings be at ease, and happy".

One moment I'm fine, peeling another Orange to section for the sauce ... And the next, I'm just sobbing uncontrollably -but silently- like a maniac, Orange Juice dripping down my arms, trying to resist the urge to wipe the tears off my face (because I know that'd hurt like a Demon).

Absolutely baffles me. I have no idea why I had that reaction to such a simple prayer. The Orange Chicken came out amazing though. So at least there was that, I guess?

This account is run by a Dual Faith «(Converting) Masorti Jew + Traditional NeoWiccan» & «Ancestral Folk Magic Practitioner» with 20+ years of experience as a practicing Pagan and Witch. If that bothers you, don't interact.