#it’s ridiculous how he lives in my head rent-free now and I will never see him in my playthrough again

[chaithetics]

Late Night Mends

Pairing: Kid (Monkey Man) x reader

Word count: 2.1K

Warning: 18+ MDNI, mentions of anxiety, injuries, not a lot of spice, some fluff, not proof/beta read lol, does not contain spoilers for Monkey Man.

Note: Absolutely am in love with Dev Patel, he adores the world and fandom love! Also special mention to my friend @mittos who helped with this prompt/story ideas. Go and see Monkey Man if you haven't already! And if you have go and see it again! Also jaan is a Hindi term of endearment. Also can we take a moment for Dev Patel's side profile?! Comments, and reblogs are always appreciated as well! I hope you enjoy!

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It was late, extremely late. It had been a slow night but it was quickly becoming the latest it had ever been without his tired, bloody presence. It made you uncomfortable how late it was becoming, he never took this long to show up after a big match. You bit your nails as you couldn’t help but think about the possibility of where he was and scarily, what condition he was in. 

It was a risky field that Kid was in, especially when he was the losing dog for the overeager, sweaty crowd not to bet on. He took the punches and rarely complained about it, you’d only ever been to one of his fights before and never again. It was too painful to watch, you’d bitten each of your fingernails right down to the beds, and you swore that it gave you a few grey hairs. If you had any, each of them could be traced back to being his fault, you were sure. You loved him, truly adored him, but he certainly knew how to stress you out. 

You’re sitting down waiting for him to arrive. You don’t even realise that you’ve put your hand up to your face to bite your nails but now you know that you must’ve as you’ve been subconsciously biting them as you look out the window waiting, lost in your thoughts. You could think and use that as a distraction but no, the more you think or gaze off, the more you think about him, worry about him and overanalyse every little thing to be analysed, including what would need a magnifying glass to do so. You sigh and rub your face tiredly and also as another poor attempt at a distraction to take your mind away from him. 

It was a ridiculous thought, nothing could distract you from him, Kid lived rent-free in your mind 24/7, no matter what you did or wanted. And now was his prime time for filling your head. 

You rub your face some more and then look up, you can hear the door quietly open and the sound of gentle footsteps start to make their way to you. You look up as you try to glimpse the start of his lean shadow to confirm that he’s really, really, finally here. The light switch turns on as you see his arm stretch out and then he’s standing there in your doorway. 

You look up at him as he stands, he just looks at you for a moment. His gorgeous doe-eyes are wide, he looks exhausted and defeated but there’s a small smile on his face as his eyes meet yours. Ever since you’d known Kid, he had always been a man of few words, which seemed to balance out just how expressive his handsome face was. You liked that though, that his eyes truly were the window to his soul. You did like his voice though as well, you’d have no problem with him using it more. Sometimes he would talk though, about his sweet mother, the stories of Hanuman that his mother had told him and that had vividly stuck with and inspired him still. 

You quickly take him in, there’s sweat in his hair, a cut in his cheek, and his knuckles are bloody as always. You bite your lip as you look at him, chewing over your words so you don’t come across as either a scolding lover or treating him like a patient. 

“Your hands…” You finally say as he steps closer to you and you can see that he made some attempt to cover them with a bit of cloth but the blood is all over his right hand. 

“It’s fine.” He says in a soft whisper, his voice is melodic as always but a little hoarse and deep. He looks down at his hand he tries not to flinch when you take his hand and it’s further proof that no, it really isn’t fine. You sigh and move his hand to check his fingers, it causes discomfort but based on the movement you know it’s not broken at least. It was genuinely impressive that he was still alive, still functioning and not just with everything he’d been through as a young boy, but with the amount of beatings he’d taken at the club. That he’d somehow avoided major damage to his body, that his handsome looks were still intact, and also his teeth. That was a big surprise you had to admit. 

“Sit down.” You look at him with a look of concern, one that he doesn’t like. “Come on, I’ll clean it up.” You say softly.  He runs his right hand, his good hand through his damp but perfect locks and he sighs, sitting down, waiting for you to fix his wounds and to feel your tender touch. 

You’d had the first aid kit ready to go, sitting on the floor waiting for his entrance. You always used it, he always needed it. Your medical background certainly helped, some nights you’d crack a joke that that was the only reason why he was with you. The first time you made that joke his eyes widened at first, and he immediately stuttered to try and reassure her that that wasn’t the case. He didn’t realise that it was a joke. You’d kissed him to reassure him and he kissed you back so sweetly. Now when you made the joke he’d just look at you and give you a small, precious chuckle. You just want to make him smile, make him laugh, bring him joy, and make him feel safe. He deserved that at the very least, especially with his gigantic hug. 

His hand clearly had taken the worst of it, you hold it gently in yours, and his hand twitches for a moment. He’s spent most of his life being devoid of affection. He craved a gentle touch, to feel seen and safe in the company of another. He’d started to find that with you, in the way you looked at him, how you carefully held his hand in arms when cleaning an injury and wrapping it up. You somehow had never noticed it, he figured it was because of how attentive you were to his injuries, to him, and his lips quirked up into a secret smile you’d miss over the irony of you not noticing this because of how attentive you were being to him. 

“You were later than usual.” You say as you clean his bruised and bloodied knuckles. 

“I know.” He whispers as he looks up at you, he’s tired but there’s a small smile on his lips as he knows the scolding is incoming, just what degree is it going to be from you tonight, is the question. 

“I was worried, my fingernails are almost as bloody as your knuckles because of how much I was biting them.” You say as you try to clean his hand gently, noting how his hand occasionally twitches in response.

“Would’ve been quite a match.” He whispers before he looks at your hands, noticing your nervously bitten nails. His cheeks heat up as he can’t help but feel a little bit of guilt about causing you to worry so, he’s spent so much of his life without someone who cares about him like this. You sigh and roll your eyes at his response. 

“You’re going to be the cause of every single grey hair I have in this lifetime.” You say as you treat the knuckle wounds, making sure you’re gentle. “All I do is worry, you spend every night getting beaten, thrown off tables. It’s going to be too much one day. Something will go wrong. Then what?” Kid can’t help but look up at you, it’s a conversation that’s happened more than a few times. “What if it’s your spine or something? I won’t be able to fix that-” “It’s okay. It’s fine. I’m okay, jaan.” He says as he looks up at you, his big brown eyes are widened and he’s looking at you with his sad puppy dog eyes, he feels bad for making you worry so much. 

You sigh, biting your lip as you try to stop yourself from saying anything else. He’s too sweet and so you nod and finish cleaning and bandaging everything. After a moment, you cup his cheek as you look at his warm eyes and you go to get him some water to drink. He watches you and continues to as he drinks the water. You two have become quite good at playing a game of watching each other, almost like it’s a sport to observe the other. 

He looks at you, tilting his head which tousles the gorgeous locks he has a little. You sigh and run a hand through his soft brown curls, damp with sweat but somehow miraculously not blood. His hair has always been absolutely perfect. You feel bad for essentially venting your anxieties at him right as he’s come from a long night of work at the club. 

“I only scold because I care.” You say but you’re not sure if it’s him or yourself that you’re trying to convince more as you say the words, but it’s true technically. “It’s a form of doting really.” You say as you look at him as he adjusts in his seated position, looking up at you with his wide, doe-eyed orbs. Even if it was a form of doting, you could never stay mad at him for long when having to look into those gorgeous eyes. They’d melt away any troubles and you’re sure if awards were given out for best brown eyes, he’d win. You hated that he did this, that this was how he had to get by. That he had to take these awful, unhealthy beatings but you love him anyway.

He was freshly bandaged now, he moved his hand up and Kid started to slowly caress your cheek, he traced some invisible line so gently with the pads of his fingertips as he looked at you. His doe eyes were filled with adoration and peacefulness as he concentrated on your beauty. You let him, it was soothing and sweet and you had no reason to even consider stopping this. You were his and he was yours. 

Your eyes glance down at his fingers, and then you put a hand up to cup his cheek and look into the most beautiful eyes you could ever imagine seeing. After he feels your touch his eyes quickly close and he inhales. He isn’t sure if he’ll ever get used to the feeling of your fingers on his face, of how your hair feels against his skin, or your breath, but he knows for sure, that he’ll at least never tire of it. 

His fingers glide down do your mouth and he traces your lips as he looks at them. He tilts his head and before he can even move, you’ve moved your head to press your lips together. There’s something about how gentle his hands are with you, how they feel even after everything that has happened to him and that he does. How it just takes a glance at you for him to melt into a puddle. 

You put your hand back into his hair and run it through his curls as he kisses you back and the kiss deepens almost immediately. He cups your cheek gently as your lips move together in sync and you can’t help but start to tug his locks a little and his hand moves to your waist to hold you close against him. You continue to play and tug his hair as his lips move down your chin and jaw and he kisses your neck. You gasp out and tug on his hair a bit more as you feel his breath tickle your throat between his passionate kisses. You struggle to not let out a giggle as he does this and you feel your cheeks heating up as you tilt your head back so your neck is as exposed as possible for him while he kisses your throat and makes his way to your collarbone. 

He always gets like this, and so quickly. He just needs a little touch, the reassurance of you being there and he feels an all-consuming need to make up for the years of loneliness, the lack of affection, the lack of physical contact outside of a fight he was guaranteed to lose. He has you in his arms and it’s something right for once, if it was a game this would be a victory, some kind of peace.

[ineffable-suffering]

Trauma-Dumping on your plants: The Anthony J. Crowley Chronicles

This has been living in my silly head rent free for so long, I finally decided to slap it on here in hopes of thinking about it a little less (than three times a day. It's been years. I need to get over it.)

Also, I'm absolutely certain I'm not even remotely the first person to realize or post about this, since it's not the hardest of parallels to figure out. Alas, I still shall, because out of mind, out of sight and all that. So:

Let's talk about how Crowley is using his houseplants to work through his own Trauma of the Fall. Or, well, maybe not work through it per se, but more so roleplay it to give it somewhat of an an outlet because he never got over it. Lol.

It's not rocket science to figure it out and God Herself actually gives us a pretty spot-on explanation of it in her own narration.

Crowley's plants are perfect. They're, as God Herself tells us, the most luxurious and beautiful in all of London. He takes great care of them, waters them, mists them. Does any and everything to give them the perfect conditions so they won't have a worry in the world.

And yet, we're immediately shown that despite the seemingly perfect conditions they're living in, Crowley's plants still get *gasps quietly* spots. And we all know how Crowley feels about that:

It seems like such an unnecessary tiny thing to get upset about, right? Like, plants get spots all the time. They're not perfect, they're part of nature and nothing is ever perfect in nature. Crowley would know that by now. Imperfection is the whole point of nature. If everything had stayed exactly the way it always was, nothing would have ever changed or evolved.

Besides, Crowley is a demon. If it were merely about aesthetics to him, he could easily miracle away any spot with a blink of his serpent eyes. But he gets so angry about it, it's almost comical. At first we think it's just to show us, the audience, that, in contrast to Aziraphale, who cares very dearly and lovingly for his books, Crowley is a mean, mean demon who, instead of being outwardly nice to the things he loves (like Aziraphale does), yells at his plants because he's a mean meanie.

But! If you look at the whole scene and what God says, it's pretty obvious what he's actually doing is something else entirely: "What Crowley does is he puts the fear of God in them. Or, the fear of Crowley. The plants are the most luxurious and beautiful in London. Also the most scared."

Folks, this man dude serpent is literally roleplaying the concept of God/Heaven threatening angels with their Fall in order to keep them obedient ... with his houseplants.

Have I mentioned yet that I am absolutely obsessed with him and also desperately wanna get him a therapy voucher?

Because what does he do once he sees a plant disobeying his rules of perfection and acting out? The same thing God did to her questioning, equally disobedient angels (including Crowley): Parade it in front of the very scared rest, making an example of it ...

... only to then, well ...

... quite literally chuck it out.

To anyone else, this seems like a completely ridiculous thing to do over a tiny, minuscule spot. There would have been a bunch of other ways to go about fixing that spot.

Figuring out what it was the plant needed that might not have been given to it yet.

Taking care of it in a different, individual way so it would have been able to thrive again.

Listening to the plant and letting it tell you why its spot appeared in the first place.

Telling the plant, that loves and relies on you entirely, you love it too, despite it not being without fault, despite of it not fully living up to your unreachable standards of perfection.

Caring for the plant not because you want it to be perfect, but because you're okay with it being imperfect.

(We're no longer talking about plants here, as you are probably aware.)

Alas, this isn't what Crowley does. Because it wasn't what God did, either. We still know very little about Crowley's actual Fall and the Fall of Lucifer and the rest. But we do know that Crowley was never like or even with them.

All he did was ask some questions. A tiny spot. A seemingly insignificant blemish in the luxurious, beautiful flora of Heaven.

And yet, before he knew it, he did a "million lightyear freestyle dive into a boiling pool of sulfur". Cast out, chucked away, just like his little spotty plant. And for what? Well ...

... to keep the others angels plants check, for the rest of time.

***

(Addendum from the comments: If we go by what the book tells us, Crowley doesn’t actually end up violently throwing out the ‚bad‘ plants. He just finds a different place for them and makes sure they‘re looked after. So much to him being a big, bad, meanie-mean demon.)

[noob-with-a-shitty-computer]

Secret Romantic (Grell Sutcliff x gn!artist!Reader)

A/N: I’m still pretty new to black butler but this woman has been living in my head rent-free for the past few weeks, which fortunately has given me a bit of inspiration to write a fic :> hope u like it and i hope it isn’t too ooc.

Summary: You were not really known to be a hopeless romantic, unlike your flamboyant companion. However, she wasn’t expecting to see a different side of you on the night you dropped your sketchbook nearby…

In the midst of another work-filled night, you quickly flipped through the to-die list one last time. “I think that’s about everyone tonight.” You let out a sigh of relief in unison with the red reaper in front of you, “What a night. I’m so glad that Phantomhive got this case closed rather quickly.” A bit of awkward silence passed until you heard a few quiet giggles, which made you turn to your friend who’s green irises were swinging left and right to each picture she had in her hands.

“Grell, are you listening?!” You raised your voice enough for her to let out a yelp as if she was a frightened puppy. “‘Bassy’ caught your eye again?” You scoff. “Come on, can you blame me? He was ever so graceful, how could I not take a photo or fourty~? Especially when he was wearing that ridiculously handsome suit~!” She dreamily sighs and you do nothing but roll your eyes. You never liked demons, always thought they were a hassle to deal with. It didn’t make it any better that a certain demon butler just so happened to steal the doting heart of the woman who stole yours.

“Well, I’ll head off now so you can have your little fun, I suppose. See you at work, my lady.” You greeted nonchalantly as you quickly jumped out of the scene using your reaper agility. Before Grell could glue her eyes back to the photos, she heard a thud nearby, finding a familiar book on the stone ground. It was the sketchbook you always brought around during work to draw on whenever you had a bit of time on your hands. She remembered the times you refused to show her your artworks, hiding the pages against your chest as a faint but cute blush creeped onto your cheeks.

It seemed that curiosity killed the cat (much to Sebastian’s dismay) as Grell approached the sketchbook with a smirk, letting go of her precious photos for the time being…

“Let’s see what you’ve been hiding from me, darling.” She mutters to herself as she slowly flips through the sketchbook, admiring every image. There’s a sketch of the town you recently visited in the view from a tall building, doodles of a couple of dresses you saw from a store window, and other random things. You were quite talented, she thought, curious if you happened to have a doodle of dear Bassy as well~ It only took a couple minutes until she flipped through a page that caught her off guard.

Several doodles of the red reaper herself were presented to her, some smiling, some frowning, some drawings ended down to her head or bust and there were a couple of full body drawings as well. She flipped through more pages and found herself again. There was one drawing where she was wearing a beautiful dress and another where she and you dancing together, she was wearing the same dress while you wore your own outfit with a similar design. It was like an illustration from a fairytale book, the you in the sketch revealed a big smile that your colleagues don’t often see on you in real life.

The next page had sketches of her in other fancy outfits, the page after that had sketches of her doing her signature pose, the page after that was a drawing of you and her, hand in hand and looking at each other fondly while the moonlight illuminated your figures. She didn’t realize you were so observant over her. It was a bit unsettling, but it also felt endearing to her that you put in so much effort into capturing her beauty on paper. Her mind was filled with different thoughts, the memories of you and her training, laughing, smiling and spending time together all those years ago up till now. She couldn’t deny that it made her heart flutter.

Meanwhile, you were panicking in your room trying to find that lost sketchbook, worried that Grell had caught it first. You dejectedly rushed to your door only to find said reaper in front of your doorstep, causing you to stumble backwards. “Gah! G-Grell, what are y-you doing here..?” Your heart was pounding as you looked over to her hand which was holding very thing you were looking for over the past several minutes. Grell chuckled a bit as she handed it back to you. “Darling, I never thought you felt this way about me~” She stepped closer with a smile.

“I-I’m sorry, I can explain-“ “No, I’m sorry for pulling on your heartstrings like that, my dear.” Grell’s eyes softened as she apologized. “The drawings are gorgeous as well. I didn’t know you were such a romantic~!” She smirked and you huff your cheeks, “I guess you just rubbed off on me, my lady.”

“No worries, it’s cute.” Her smile grew as she watched your cheeks flush and eyes widen. “Aww, look at your cheeks! They’re covered in such an adorable shade of red~” She failed to supress a cheeky giggle. “Stop teasing me!” You quickly protest before she held out a hand to you.

“Heh, well I must admit, you were always dear to me, darling. I guess I was too occupied with my own obsessions to realize it sooner… But since you seem to be interested in a dance, may I take your hand tonight~?” She stated flirtatiously, causing your cheeks to grow hotter. You were a lot less experienced in the world of love compared to the reaper in front of you, causing you to hesitate taking her offer…

But then again, who are you to refuse a lovely lady such as Grell Sutcliff~?

A/N: i need sleep. why must motivation show up during midnight T_T anyways hope u like it :P

[saninthebuilding]

when the rain pours, it dries - tewkesbury

summary: after a tough day, you find yourself sitting alone in the rain. typical movie scene, of course. however, in your time of despair, who is it that arrives to help you up? none of than dear old tewkesbury.

word count: 1k

warnings: rain, hurt/comfort, angst (?), emotions, pre-established relationship, living together, L-bombs, tewkesbury being the sweetest boy

a/n: rewatched enola holmes 2 and i had the urge to write about tewkesbury. so i wrote about him.

hope you enjoy it! <3

~

it was a rainy evening, and i was sitting on one of the benches that were spread out in the park near the lord's office.

without an umbrella.

of course, it had not been my intention originally to get drenched by the downpour. however, i had been out trying to find clues for my newest case and had ended up losing track of time. as a result, i was now stuck sitting here, wet and cold and so utterly alone.

today had been absolutely terrible.

i had been put onto a new case only a few days ago, yet i had still not found any clues. the client had barged into my office early this morning, ruining my so far perfectly good day, screaming at me for being useless and wasting his time, money and hope.

i was trying- i really was. and things like these do not just happen overnight. but the couple heard none of it, calling me a liar, fraud and a thief, before walking out the door.

for some reason, it was too much for me.

on top of the rent being due for the apartment that tewkesbury and i shared, and all the mental strain i was feeling with mother being gone and the fact that i would never be as good as sherlock and tewkesbury being so busy with the lords, i think i had reached my breaking point after that.

which was why i was now sitting here on this bench in the rain, on the verge of tears.

oh come on y/n, don't be ridiculous.

but it was too late, because tears were already starting to stream down my face.

the fact that the rain was covering them up was a small blessing.

sniffling, i shoved my face into my hands and cried, irritation giving way to the disappointment and sadness that had building up for weeks now.

just great.

suddenly i heard footsteps coming up the path, only to stop right in front of me. then the rain stopped hitting the top of my head, and i looked up to see an umbrella covering me. a hand gripped the handle, and the person bent over from beneath, revealing tewkesbury standing in front of me.

he was holding an umbrella- a smart decision in this weather, and was staring at me in confusion.

"y/n?"

i instantly got off the bench, embarrassed that he had found me in such a state. however in my rush, i ended up stumbling and tipping forward, hands catching the front of tewkesbury's coat for support.

he let out a surprised grunt, his free arm coming to wrap around my waist, catching me before i fell.

"by god, y/n, you're soaked."

i raised my head to see him staring at me, eyes wide. "uh- sorry," i mumbled, righting myself and looking away. mentally scolding myself, i rubbed the raindrops off my face and turned to meet his gaze with a forced smile.

"hello tewkesbury. lovely weather, is it not? i was just out here collecting my thoughts. what brings you here?"

i could tell i was speaking too fast, and that my story was completely ridiculous, because  i wrung my hands together in an attempt to calm myself.

"are you alright, y/n?" tewkesbury asked, seeing right through my sorrowful attempt at lying. "you seem...a little off."

"oh no, i'm perfectly fine, i assure you. absolutely wonderful. just enjoying the rain."

he raises an eyebrow, skeptical from under his unnecessarily large black umbrella. seriously, who made that thing? he could fit 5 people in there.

and then there was the matter of him.

how could he look so handsome an such an ungodly hour?

"so, um... what exactly are you doing here?" i asked, hoping he would just answer my question instead of worrying about me.

i hate it when he worries.

he sighed, taking the bait. "i was out at the lords' all day, remember? there was that meeting to discussion the formation of a new bill, so i only just got released."

i cringed, realizing he had told me this both last night and this morning before he left.

oh no, i've completely lost it.

why couldn't i do anything right?

i could feel the tears rising again as my throat began to close up, and i let out a shaky breath.

tewkesbury noticed.

gentle fingers tilted my chin upward, and i saw him looking down at me with concern etched on his face.

"y/n, have you been crying? your eyes are red and you sound upset."

"what? no...no! i'm alright tewkesbury, i-"

my breath hitched mid-sentence and i could feel myself starting to panic.

not again.

tewkesbury cupped my cheek, before pressing his forehead to mine. the warmth of him was a shock to my cold and wet skin, causing me to flinch.

"oh y/n..."

tewkesbury pulled away and motioned for me to take hold of the umbrella, before removing his coat.

"here, put this on."

i opened my mouth to argue, but the look on his face was more than enough for me to be quiet and slip it on.

"thank you" i whispered, sheepish at how much he was having to do because of me.

tewkesbury pulled me into his arms without a word, simply letting the sound of the rain surround the both of us.

after some time had passed, he spoke up.

"truly, y/n. you must understand that you may lean on me if you need to."

"but i-"

"please, y/n. just trust me. i am always here for you if you need me, but that requires you to let me. i cannot help you if you do not let me."

i buried my face into his chest in an attempt to hide the tears that were filling my eyes.

"i don't want to burden you with my worries..." i mumbled, voice muffled by the cloth of his waist coat.

tewkesbury sighed. shifting his grip on the umbrella, he leaned down and gently pressed his lips to the top of my head.

"you're never a burden, my love. not to me."

despite my best efforts not to cry, tears began to find their way down my cheeks, and i hugged him tight.

"i love you tewkesbury."

"i love you y/n."

[lewkwoodnco]

get him BACK! - Lockwood x Reader

A/N: The idea for this fic has been living rent-free in my head for WEEKS and I finally decided to write it all out hahah I wanted to try a new style of writing, something more lighthearted and not so serious/depressing so here's a fun lil fic based off get him back! by olivia rodrigo! couldn't decide which gif to put so I put BOTH lolll ofc I made some modifications to better fit Lockwood and there are some parts where their relationship isn't the healthiest butttt it's a work of fiction soo take with a grain of salt! Tyyy to @karensirkobabes for giving me the push I needed to get this written down <3 enemies to lovers, reader is a Fittes agent similar to the I can see you fic (not exactly the same set up but quite similar so think parallel universe?) HAVE FUN, 5.4k

Enough was enough. She picked up the golf club and stomped out.

“Y/N. Y/N! Where are you - hey!”

She pulled her arm back, and now she was bringing it smashing down, probably inefficiently so, but she didn’t care. She punctuated Lockwood’s yells with shattering glass and screams of her own, wreaking havoc on his car like a woman scorned. She was a woman scorned. How dare he be so irritating yet so fucking irresistible all in the same breath?

She had met him shortly after she came back from a much needed summer vacation, ready to dive into a case that ended up lasting nearly 7 months. They had been assigned to the case around the tail-end of August, but for some odd reason Barnes had been keen on briefing them individually. Perhaps it had something to do with how both of them had hounded him after their frosty first encounter. She had tried her best to be open-minded, but she couldn’t help how her face twisted over having to work with this pompous prick, convinced that he was God’s gift to them all. That was enough to incite some snarky, underhanded comment and she retaliated, and they went back and forth until they realised Barnes was gone.

In hindsight, maybe it was their extreme hounding of him as they begged to be assigned elsewhere that made him decide to never be in the same room as both of them.

"She's uptight, narrow-minded, contemptuous -"

"I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I-"

"- bossy, irritating, ill-tempered, and did I mention uptight?"

"- I hate him I hate him I hate him I hate him I-"

"Enough!" Barnes could only walk so fast and they could walk faster. "The rest of the teams are already stretched thin over this spiked string of hauntings across the country. So if you want to keep your job, and if you want the commission I know you so desperately need, I suggest you find a way to put aside your differences."

So she couldn’t avoid him forever, though she tried her best. He just had to have an opinion over everything that came out of her mouth and that opinion always had to contradict hers.

“I think we should split up into the different rooms.”

“Hmm. I think it’s best we all stay in the dining hall.”

“But the Sources could be in the rooms too.”

“But it’s unlikely, since most of the guests were killed during a dinner party held…where was it? Oh yes, the dining hall.”

“All the cutlery from that party is in the kitchen, the tablecloths in the linen cupboard, the chairs in -“

“Because cutlery, tablecloths and chairs are known for being prime Sources. Infamous, really.”

She hated how mocking his eyes were. She was a leader of strong character with resolute faith in her instincts, so damn did it sting to cave.

“Fine. Shaw, you’ll set up the chains -"

“Don’t be ridiculous, Lucy’ll do it.”

“Why?”

“She’s the best Listener in all of London; she’ll know the best place to set them up.”

“Fine. We’ll meet in the dining hall at 5 pm-”

“Hang on - what about the groups?”

She mouthed wordlessly at him. “Wha - we just decided that we’ll all be in the same room! What groups?”

“To look for the Sources in the linen closets, the kitchen, the -“

“I thought we just decided that those trinkets were too menial.”

“Oh, well, we can never be a hundred percent sure, can’t we? A good agent is thorough, you know.”

She blinked, her eyes sliding over the rest of her team’s as she wordlessly mouthed retorts which were too stunned to form. She tugged at her hair, dreaming of yanking it from her scalp strand by strand.

“Fine. Fine. Fine.” She slammed her journal on the desk, treating the pages with less care than she ought to be. “Shaw and Karim, you’ll take the parlour. Lockwood and Vernon, you’ll take the master bedroom. Carlyle and -“

“Vernon? Hasn’t he been sick, like, three times this week?”

“I’LL do the master bedroom with you, Lockwood. Anything wrong with that? Hm? Anything to nitpick or whine or complain about?”

He leaned back in his chair, his smile a little too lazy for her liking. “Trying to get me into a bed? We’ve only just met.”

She had to physically restrain herself from screaming at him. That wasn't any different from the kind of digs they took at each other in private, so why was her face beginning to heat up?

"What can I say?" She spoke through gritted teeth. "You bring out the absolute worst in me."

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

Thankfully, by the time they were stationed in their different rooms, most of the fight had bled out of the two of them, and they were the closest they have ever been to amicable, or even civil. Lockwood insisted that he was better at handling a rapier than her so they decided that he would keep the visitor back, should it make an appearance, as she searched the room.

A visitor did show up, screaming something awful at the two of them. She was spiralling in despair as she tore apart drawers and boxes, coming up empty. Then, in a sudden wave of inspiration, she realised that they hadn't considered looking under the floorboards. There had been a loose one in the corner of the room, but the only problem was that the visitor was floating mere inches above the floorboard.

Lockwood, with all his proclaimed prowess, seemed quite evenly matched with the visitor, and he looked far too pale to comprehend a new plan. She squeezed her eyes shut and launched herself to the floorboard, hoping that the surprise would be enough to give the visitor pause. There was an anguished yell mixed with aggressive taunts from Lockwood, and she could make out the hiss of a flare as her fingers scrabbled for the Source: a pen. She flung it into her net and the visitor disappeared, leaving behind Lockwood sprawled on the floor, having been backed into a corner.

She numbly put the chains away and shouldered their bag of supplies, starting the trek downstairs while Lockwood caught his breath and struggled with something. She hadn't missed the outrage in his eyes and the way his jaw was ticking something furious, and prepared for the worst.

"What the hell was that? That wasn't the plan!"

"Oh, but you provoking the visitor was?"

"I was drawing it out! You were inches away from being ghost-touched."

"I was not."

"Were too!"

"Ugh, you're such a child!"

"You know, none of this would be happening if you didn't suck at finding Sources."

"Like you would have been any better."

"Actually, yes, I would have."

"Fine!" She turned and threw the bag at him, relishing the way it (momentarily) knocked the wind out of him. "You look for the rest, and God help you if you don't find them all."

Fortunately or unfortunately, her threat never saw the light of day as the rest of them had managed to find the other Sources with not nearly as much fuss as them. Everyone was too tired to talk much on the way back to DEPRAC. She began drafting their report while Lockwood helped Lucy limp along to one of the nurses. She signed the report, not looking up as Lockwood approached.

"Come to yell at me some more?"

"Ha-ha." But it was wooden and deflated. She glanced at his exhausted face and decided it wasn't worth it. "I was just...taken aback, is all. I didn't mean to -"

"It's fine. I wouldn't have lasted this long if I crumbled every time someone got mad at me."

The corner of his mouth quirked upwards and she felt this absurd sense of accomplishment.

"Still, let me make it up to you. Let's all go for dinner. My treat."

"Oh." She felt her face warm as she clumsily tried to remind herself how awful he was and how terrible having dinner with him sounded. "It's no need, really -"

"We'll be at this for a while, if tonight was any indication, so we might as well keep our spirits high."

"But-"

"I'll get George to start flagging down some cabs." With that, he briskly turned away, case report in hand, while she stared at him like a goldfish. So he was a prick on and off the job. Who did he think he was, ordering her around like that. Part of her wanted to refuse to come along out of spite, but she was starving, so she settled for a silent internal rebellion.

As much as she hated to admit it, the food was good and her team members seemed to be having the most fun they've had in months, if their noise was any indication. George and Ned were locked in some intense argument about their research on the house and Lucy was desperately trying to get them to shut up, in between a conversation about cheese rolling. She was getting lightheaded from laughing over Lucy's unusual fascination and George being George ("Shaw, say one more thing about my page holder and I'll come over there and fuck you up.") when Lockwood turned to her, half-yelling into her ear, and she nearly choked on her drink. Her weird sense of humour was usually perceived as non-existent, but Lockwood somehow managed to come up with the most out-of-pocket statements that made her sides ache. But she still hated his guts, of course.

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

And so began their convoluted relationship. Sure, they were both prone to the extremes, but in an oddly balanced kind of way. They would butt heads and swear at each other copiously during cases and then tiredly patch up (mostly) over dinner. She had started to grow fond of their team dinners, but only because of the camraderie and fostered and not because it meant having the thigh of a certain someone with excessively long legs pressing into hers in their cramped corner of the booth. That was just an unfortunate by-product that she, er, suffered through. That, and the wrestling with Lockwood over the bill ("How are you affording any of this? Aren't you at the edge of bankruptcy??"). Their relationship was complicated enough before his string of small gifts began.

Lockwood walked into the agent lounge where she was examining the file of their mission that night, and her eyes barely flickered in acknowledgement. The case was excruciatingly demanding to the point where they spent less time apart than together. He tossed a small bag on her papers before being accosted by one of her team members. By the time he was done, the lounge had cleared out and she had unwrapped the package. Her eyebrow twitched.

"What's this?"

"Oh, I thought someone might have told you by now. This here is a nifty little device called a watch, and -"

"Hardy har har. You're hilarious. I meant, why are you giving this to me?"

"Oh. Didn't your watch get smashed a few nights back?"

She grimaced. It had been rough to accept, but she had slammed against the wall so roughly that it was a miracle she didn't get a concussion. She had really liked it and she had a feeling he had picked up on how much she had been missing it over the past few days.

"Er, yes, but what does that have to do with you?"

"Feel bad, is all."

"Like how you felt bad enough to buy me a designer pen?"

"I have no idea what you're talking about." His coat was draped on his chair and he was working on a biscuit tin from the cabinet. "That was just a momento to commemorate our first house together."

"Uh-huh. Sure." She reluctantly but carefully put the watch away. "You better not make a habit of this. I...appreciate the gesture, but I don't need any of this."

"I know."

"So this is the last, um, trinket. Right?"

He leaned forward, sleeves rolled up to his elbows. "Aw. You're cute as a button." He tapped her nose as she spluttered angrily, innocently picking up one of the maps she was pouring over as the rest of the team started to arrive.

After the case, she began writing the report as usual, because Lockwood always had some reason or the other to dawdle. But when she looked up, she felt her breath hitch. The scene was crowded, but he was somehow in her direct line of vision, talking to one of her team members, Catherine, who was laughing at whatever he was saying. She stood there, stunned, as if only just remembering that he had a life outside of her. Betrayal stabbed in her gut. Really, she only had herself to blame for thinking she was somehow special. Maybe it was the long hours, or the exhaustion that had caught up with her, but for a moment there...she could have sworn...

She didn't realise he was standing in front of her. He made some teasing remark as he looked over the report, but she wasn't in the mood. She was never bound to stay with him while he made his own additions to the report, but there was always something magnetic about him that fascinated her, and she wouldn't even realise until he was done. But not today. She glared at him before turning away swiftly, his smooth voice cutting off abruptly.

"Y/N?" He caught up with her, carelessly signing the report. "Was it- was it something I said?"

She turned to look at him, no longer illusioned by dreams or fantasies her mind had a particular propensity to concoct.

"Ugh, you're such a boy."

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

She had never been a sentimental person, but as they ascended in the elevator of the illusions museum that was their final case, she was feeling some type of way. She glanced at Lockwood, whose eyes snapped up to her face, and she squinted at him suspiciously. But he took care to keep his face blank, so she looked away. She wasn't completely innocent herself, either. It was just the showy swagger with which he walked that drew her eyes to how his rapier hung near his hip. He was always one for theatrics.

When they exited the elevator, it looked as though they were faced with a dead end, until they realised it was just an oddly placed wall.

"I'll climb over, since I'm the one with any real height."

"You're just a fraction taller than me." So not true, which he picked up on as well with a short bark of laughter. Her neck would hurt from looking up at him if they were too close together.

"I'm nearly 1.9 metres tall, and-"

"Oh, shut up; you are not that tall!" But there was no real heat behind her words, and she rolled her eyes at his grin before he pulled himself over. Once they were both at the other side, they wandered around in a maze of mirrors, looking into every door they came across, until Lockwood found one gleaming of iron that wouldn't budge.

"I'm going to pick it."

"Lockwood, no. If the door has an iron frame; it's probably locked for a reason."

"What are the odds?"

"Very high."

"Eh, I'm not convinced."

"Leave the door!"

"Geez, relax. You're no fun."

"...you're picking the lock right now, aren't you?"

"Yep."

She groaned frustratedly, haphazardly trying to get to him through the maze, but it was too late. A shriek rang out in the deathly silence, followed by loud cursing from Lockwood. She caught glimpses of the Spectre through the reflections, which luckily seemed just as confused as them, though significantly more aggrieved. She somehow managed to find the room the Spectre had burst out of, though it seemed to have sealed shut again. She yelled to Lockwood, and tugged harder at the door, finally wrenching it open. She heard his footsteps as he drew closer, rolling in just as she shut the door against the Spectre wailing at his heels.

"Lockwood," she gasped in relief, "you are so full of shit."

Still panting against the door with an angry cut running through his eyebrow, he pressed his mouth against hers, and they were a mess of lips, tongue and teeth clashing against each other. Just as suddenly as it started, it was over, and he looked away, not meeting her eyes. Her vision swam. She had never felt so alive.

"You're maddening," he choked out. "What do you suggest we do, then?"

She was dizzy and felt sure that her legs were going to give away any minute now. "I- I don't...um...god, where is that humming coming from?" She spun around, the buzzing grating against her nerves. After some hunting, they managed to find a box hidden in a cavity in the wall which reeked of psychic charge. They wrapped it in their iron net and instantly the wailing ceased.

They took the elevator down in silence. She watched him from the corner of her eye. His eyes swept her from head to toe with a dark, unrecognisable expression, before he turned to face the doors like her. What was it? Disdain? Interest? Contempt? Awe? She wanted to shake an answer out of him.

"It's hard to be on the same wavelength with someone who insists on arguing with me about everything."

“Look, I’m not the one who decided that you were a terrible person from the get-go.”

“I did not do that. I looked at the evidence and made an educated guess. Besides, I never meant to be so blatant with it. I’m just…an expressive person.”

She regretted the words as soon as they left her mouth, grimacing as she heard the smile in his voice.

“Expressive, huh?”

“Oh, sod off.”

He clicked his tongue. She wanted to rip it out with her teeth. "You can be so adorable when you're nice."

"Oh yeah? What am I when I'm not nice?"

The elevator doors opened. Suddenly, his warm breath was ghosting the exposed sliver of her shoulder.

"Hot as fuck."

She briefly short-circuited, Lockwood long gone by the time she came to her senses. She hurried out, kicking herself over how heavily she was breathing over a stupid whisper like that.

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

It was a full month before she saw him again, and she never got fully used to working with just her team again. She would turn, wondering why Lockwood was remarkably quiet, or waiting for some smartass comment, but it would never come, and it rubbed at something raw inside of her. She hadn't laughed the way she did with him since he left, and the memory of his bruising kiss hovered at the back of her mind. Not that she missed him or anything, ew. She was glad he was gone. So glad. Good...riddance.

She entered her flat, fumbling for the light switch, sighing at the pile of letters that stood abandoned on her desk. It didn't take long for some part of her to long to reach out to Lockwood, but every letter she wrote was disgustingly sappy. Sometimes, in a fit of desperation she would put on her coat, determined to post her latest letter, but the resolve would fade before she even stepped out. She'd be an embarrassment to Fittes and he would awkwardly explain how she wasn't anyone special and she would never live it down. How humiliating to be rejected by someone who made her life a living hell.

She stabbed her latest letter on her mantle with a newfound passion for vengeance. This was all his fault, the sick bastard. She was going to get him back.

The opportunity somehow presented itself by fate. The next day had just happened to be her day off, when she received a panicked phone call from Lucy. She had to return home for some emergency but George was down with the flu, and Lockwood was away at a client meeting, so would it be alright if she came over for a few hours, just until Lockwood got back?

She went over and calmed a frantic Lucy rushed off her feet enough for her to get to the train station. George was taking a nap, and though Lucy had mentioned that he'd make some soup for himself when he woke, she decided to make herself useful. She was just finishing up the touches on some spaghetti for herself and Lockwood when he arrived. He looked a little stunned to see her, and she couldn't quite find her voice either. He looked more sombre, somehow, like the last month had weighed heavily on him.

"...hey."

"Hey."

"I'm sorry about all this, it's just there was a strike, and the trains were all-"

"Oh, no worries."

"Thank you for the - is that soup?"

"Yes, and some, erm, watery spaghetti-"

"No, it looks amazing, really. You shouldn't have..."

"It was no trouble." They paused as they heard a thump coming from George's door. She left to check on him.

"George? Is everything all right? Is it the soup?"

George coughed, calling out in a raspy voice. "Soup's wonderful, thank you. That isn't Ned, is it?"

"Hm? Oh, no, Lockwood's just come home. But he came around earlier today. He wanted to see how you were doing but you were asleep."

"Oh," he wheezed. "Well, you tell him to piss off if he comes back. And maybe you can tell him I'm doing alright." He took a sip of the soup and closed his eyes. "Try not to murder Lockwood till I'm better. I want a front-row seat."

She smiled to herself as she walked back to the kitchen. Lockwood had put out two plates of the spaghetti for the both of them, and was waiting for her.

"Everything okay?"

She nodded. He picked up his fork, then set it back down, almost as an afterthought.

“You didn’t poison this, did you?” She flung her dishcloth at him, which he caught, but just barely. Damn his reflexes. But things were starting to feel normal again.

“Don’t tempt me.”

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

Lockwood had a job to do at a cemetery that evening, and though he insisted he would be fine on his own, the look in his eyes was enough of a request for her help.

"You know," he was saying on the way there, "I've got another job two days later, if you're interested, that is."

"That sounds - oh. Hang on, I'm going to the movies with Terence that day."

"Terence?" She turned to see an uncharacteristically confused Lockwood, looking as though the wind had left his sails. "Not Terence Fisher?"

"He's the only Terence I know. No worries, I think we can shift-"

"No." A stubborn streak that had lied dormant since their reunion emerged, rearing its ugly head. "It's fine. I think it's just a Type One anyway."

"Oh. I mean, you can never be too sure-"

"I'll be fine. I can handle it. You go enjoy your...your date with Terence." He looked so disgusted, and that only enraged her further. They were getting along so well. What was his problem? She responded to his cold shoulder with one of her own, glaring out the cab window.

Despite her anger, the case went smoothly if a bit quieter than normal, and she enjoyed their familiar rhythm that she had so dearly missed. Somewhere in the middle, Lockwood looked as though his anger had thawed, but then his features changed, like he had just remembered something, and he walked away frostily. She swore, biting her tongue. Fucking Lockwood.

She wandered around, kicking at pebbles, while waiting for Lockwood to straighten out his fees with the client when her heart stopped. It couldn't be. She pulled back the vines creeping around one of the headstones in an unmarked plot. The grave of Celia Lockwood.

Once she had gotten over her shock, the words seemed to flow out of her mouth of their own accord. "Um, hi." She cleared her throat. "This is probably...the most disrespectful thing I've done, but, uh, I have to ask about your son. Why the fuck is he so aggravating?" She laughed nervously, hoping Celia Lockwood wouldn't be hunting her down in her sleep for this. "He sucks. I'm sorry, I know it's terrible to say, and I'm sure you were lovely people who gave him the most loving home he could wish for...but god does he suck."

"Y/N?" Lockwood called from a distance. She waved to the headstones before hurrying back, before he could see where she had been loitering.

"I need to drop the report off at DEPRAC. Want to come with? Unless you're off to meet Terence, that is." He looked away. There it was again. Gosh, would it kill him to not pick a fight for once?

"No, I'm not meeting Terence. Not that it's any of your business."

He muttered under his breath, yanking the cab door open more viciously than needed. She could feel her temper bubbling under the surface and Lockwood's was clearly only barely restrained.

"You know," he had started, jaw ticking promisingly, once they were in the elevator. "I don't understand what your problem is."

"Me? I'm not the one throwing a tantrum like a baby."

He sharply inhaled, and she defiantly stared at him, daring him to speak. The doors opened again, and a crowd of people entered, pressing them to the back of the elevator. He seemed to decide against whatever he was going to say.

"Y/N L/N..." he murmured, exhaling through his teeth. They were nearly touching, but not quite, but she could feel the vibrations of him talking. "You are one tough nut to crack."

"Bite me." Her whisper was rougher than intended, but she was unable to tear her thoughts away from her irritation with him. Why was she feeling so shaken up? Stupid Lockwood was stupid, big deal; it wasn't anything new.

"Oh, I think I'd leave that to Terence."

"What is your obsession -" She felt this wave of euphoria wash over her as realisation struck. "Oh my god. Oh. My god. You're jealous."

"Am not." But he looked too disturbed to seem even remotely convincing. They had reached their floor and he was quickly walking away from her, and for once she didn't mind running to keep up with his long strides. Her eyes glittered with glee. Oh, this was absolutely delicious.

"You are so. You can't stand the thought of Terence and I together, can you?" She crowed, only mildly breathless, relishing his discomfort, her words honey on her tongue. Ah, at last, sweet, sweet revenge for his months of hell. "Does it hurt? Does it sting? Does it eat away at you on the ins-"

"Please. Like you've never been jealous either." The gleam in his eye looked so knowing that she felt herself falter.

"How'd you know?"

"I didn't. I...what was it? Ah, yes, 'looked at the evidence and made an educated guess.'"

She shoved his shoulder, and he just laughed. "Still not as down bad as you, idiot."

He slammed the report on the counter, frightening the poor receptionist. "I am not 'down bad.' But you can't pretend like who you're seeing is none of my business."

"But it isn't! Why do you care so much anyway, huh?"

"I just do."

"Then make it your business." Something unstable was climbing up her throat, and the nervous look in his eye told her that he was thinking about the same thing as her - that time he had pulled her lips to his.

"I...I can't."

"Why not?"

"Because...because you're the most insufferable person I've ever had the misfortune of meeting-"

"At least I'm not a completely emotionally avoidant dickhead-"

"An emotionally avoidant dickhead whose throat you stuck your tongue down-"

She shrieked, and before she knew what she was doing, she was pulling her arm back, and she heard the thud of her fist connecting with his cheekbone. From the corner of her eye, she saw a figure that looked suspiciously like Barnes hurriedly back out of the lobby.

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

It was all over before it even began. The uppercut was enough to shut him up for the ride back to 35 Portland Row, where she forced him into a chair at the dining table and pulled out their first aid kit. She

"I'm sorry I punched you." Not even a little, but she had to be the first to try to make amends. Not that he would have the initiative. He just sullenly looked down at the table, twitching his cheek a little. "Is there something you'd like to say to me? An apology, perhaps?"

"Apologise for what? The truth?"

She clenched her teeth. "It was crass, and in public -"

"Big deal. I'm always crass in public with you. What was so bad about it this time that you just had to beat me up?"

"I didn't beat you up -"

"Oh, so I just did this to myself, then?"

She had promised George that she would wait till he was better, but she wasn't sure how much longer she could hold out on strangling him. "Enough with the snark."

"I'll tell you why it bothered you so much."

"Lockwood."

"Because it was true. It was the truth, and it hurt, and you couldn't stand it-"

For the second time in less than a span of an hour, she saw red. She stumbled out the door, grabbing the golf club that was in the stand with their rapiers, and there she was now. George wasn't too upset; he seemed to enjoy the view from his bedroom window.

"Y/N -"

"SHUT UP!"

"Y/N, please, let's talk about this -"

"Oh, now you want to talk?"

"Please, just put down the golf club -"

"FUCK YOU!" She continued demolishing his car until he finally wrestled the club out of her hands.

"What's gotten into you?" Lockwood cried, and he looked concerned enough to give her pause. She blinked her murderous rage away, regret overwhelming her. Numbly, she allowed herself to be guided back inside, where Lockwood made a cup of tea for both of them.

“Oh god.” She buried her face in her hands, the embarrassment finally catching up to her. Had she completely lost her mind? “I’m such a mess. I’m sorry you had to see all that.”

“S’okay.”

“I’ll leave now.”

“Hey - what for?”

“Are...are you kidding me? I just smashed your car to bits. I might be medically certified insane.”

“I don’t mind. I’ll put up with it.”

“...you’ll hate that. It’s rotten work.”

“Not to me. Not if it’s you.” She exhaled, watching the tiny daisies at the windowsill sigh and flutter in the barely-there wind. He aggrieved her like a bad habit she couldn't quite kick.

“You’re…a masochist.”

“I’m aware.”

“No, I don’t think you are.”

“Why else would I have held out so long for you?”

The teasing was back, and she let out a short, indignant gasp before walking towards him and sitting in his lap. Her eyelashes grazed his cheek as she traced the dressing on his bruise. Pity that his gorgeous face had been the only punching bag in the vicinity.

“I’m always going to hate loving you. You know that, right?”

“Know it? It’s my crowning achievement.”

She punched his shoulder and he let out an exaggerated wheeze that made her laugh despite herself. She shifted and leaned on his chest as they watched the sunlight glimmer over the shards that littered the driveway. He was both the light of her life and the insanity that drove her to destruction. She didn’t feel so bad about the car anymore.

Serves him right for fucking her up this way.

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

"So...Lockwood."

They hadn't been overly obvious about their relationship, but it wasn't exactly something they could keep from George and Lucy. Lucy was back from her trip and was tickled pink by the smashed up Volvo in the driveway.

"Yeah. Lockwood."

"You do realise that he is absolutely batshit crazy?"

She smiled into her tea. “Yeah. You’re probably right. But,” she smiled innocently. “I am my father’s daughter. Maybe I can fix him.”

[drabbles-mc]

Ohhhhhh ok for the ask game can I get a perspective flip for the fic fineapple? I think it’d be hilarious

Omg you certainly can! Plus this gave me an excuse to go back and reread Fineapple again and I'll never say no to that! 😂🍍

Also, shout-out to @withmyteeth because her response to this fic when I posted it forever ago has lived in my head rent free ever since and definitely made the cut into this version of the fic lmao 😂💕

Perspective Flip: I’ll write a scene from [that fic] from another character’s point-of-view (Find the ask game Here)

(This got away from me a bit, so I put it under a cut hahaha. Hope you enjoy! xo)

Angel had never been a morning person the way that you were. For a little while, he tried, but eventually came to the conclusion that it was no use. So when he'd woken up to an empty bed that morning, he wasn't surprised or worried, especially not when he could hear the faint sounds of the shower coming from down the hall. He knew that by the time the evening rolled around the roles would be reversed--you'd be passed out on the couch while he was still sitting next to you, wide awake and losing feeling in his arm because you were leaning against it cutting off the circulation.

By the time you were finished with your shower and dressed, he was already cooking. He'd never been a great chef, but he could handle breakfast. He could handle French toast without burning the house down.

Most of his focus was dedicated to the stove, but once he saw you out of the corner of your eye, swaying to a song that was only playing on the inside of your head, he couldn't help but to let himself get a little distracted. He could barely hear the sound of the blender in the background as he watch you on the brink of dancing. The smile that stretched across his face was involuntary, one that almost made his face hurt because of how much happiness and love was bubbling up in his chest, even if he hadn't figured out how to tell you that yet.

"What?" your voice snapped him out of his thoughts.

Shaking his head, he still couldn't tone down his smile as he said, "Nothin’. Just, you look so happy with your fruits over there, that’s all."

He was perfectly content to listen to the laugh you let out at his statement. He was able to divert enough of his attention to you and the smoothie you'd made him, strayed from the stove just long enough to try it and figure out that he liked it before going back to cooking. Even when he wasn't looking at you anymore, he still joked with you, gave you grief about leaving him out of the smoothie loop for so long, making it seem like you were keeping some grand secret from him.

"Pineapple is good for you, you know," you told him.

He laughed at the seemingly obvious statement, feeling like maybe you were just getting on his case for never eating healthy foods. "Isn't all fruit good for you?"

"Yea, but..." you trailed off, which got him to spare a look over at you just long enough to see the confusion on your face. "Do you not know what they say about pineapple?"

He didn't. He had no fucking clue what people said about pineapple. He couldn't hide that from the expression on his face, either. "The fuck do they say about pineapple?"

You laughed, not in a way that was mocking, but just in amusement. "Google it later."

He shook his head as he looked back at the stove, taking the last of the food off of it and killing the flame. He didn't say it out loud, but all he could think was "I WILL Google it later."

After breakfast, when the two of you had decided what you were doing with your day, Angel watched you disappear out of the kitchen and head towards the bedroom to get changed. The second you were completely out of sight, he instantly pulled out his phone and opened up Google.

He frowned in thought as he typed out, "what do they say about pineapple?" He felt utterly ridiculous, but he was too curious now to bail on finding out. Part of him was expecting to see a bunch of search results talking about vitamins and clear skin and whatever the fuck else people always said fruits could do for you.

What he wasn't expecting was the first article in the search results to be titled, "Here's the Truth About Pineapples and Oral Sex". His eyes nearly popped completely out of his skull as he clicked on it. He was skimming over the article, already charging to the other end of the house to find you as he did.

"Babe!" He all but threw himself into the room and across the bed to reach you and put the screen of his phone uncomfortably close to your face. "Is this true?"

He saw the way that you were fighting back your laughter, shoulders trembling with effort, but you weren't denying it. He felt like there was so much that he was supposed to be doing with this newly-found information, but he didn't know what.

Tossing his phone onto the bed, he grabbed your shoulders, looking dramatically into your eyes as he said, "We need to buy every pineapple at the store today. I’ll eat a whole one every day."

He could tell by the look on your face that you thought he was exaggerating, but he really was ready and willing to figure out how to eat a whole pineapple every day without losing his mind. He moved his hands so that he was cupping your face instead. "It's for science, querida. We gotta do our research."

You just laughed, nodded, and gave him a kiss as you agreed with him. When you returned to the task of getting dressed, he turned and quickly snatched his phone off the bed, opening up the group chat he had with the rest of the guys in the club and dropping the link to the article into it.

He sent the follow-up text, "You guys see this shit? 🍍=👍🏻🍆??"

He vaguely heard you ask the question about what he was doing. His eyes were still glued to his phone, watching the three little dots appear as everyone started typing out their replies. "Puttin' this shit in the group chat. The guys gotta know about this."

He could hear you laughing at the lot of them, but he was too busy watching all of the replies come in one after the other.

Coco: "I don't buy it. Old wives tale."

Gilly: "Too bad pineapple sucks bro 🙄"

EZ: "You guys just figuring this out? 😂"

Gilly: "Too bad you still can't get fuckin laid boy scout"

Angel shook his head at all of them as he replied to all of them in one fell swoop, "Losers. I'll let yall know after i get my dick sucked FOR SCIENCE. 👍🏻🍆🍍"

[mdzs-owns-my-ass-i-guess]

Indulging in/with you

AKA Incense burner part 3

Warnings: Porn. That's it. That's the ficlet.

Heavily inspired by the gift @sasukimimochi wrote for me that's been living in my brain rent free ever since I first read it. Let's just say, mirrors are very interesting items, with many uses.

Also special thanks to @yuzanrath whose work also inspired a certain scene in this ficlet. If you know, you know.

I am learning a lot about myself thanks to my very talented friends and you all have to suffer (in the good way... for now) because of it.

Enjoy this horny monster of 2262 words and drink water! You will need it.

It is hard to say who this fantasy belongs to more.

Lan Wangji stares at his image - his younger likeness staring back in the tall mirror in his room. If this was reality, there would be no way for such an item to be allowed in the Cloud Recesses. Mirrors invite vanity, and cultivators must be humble, disinterested in making themselves appealing to others. One’s appearance must be clean, orderly, elegant - but never provocative, never painting an image that entices. If one admires oneself for too long, they might be tempted to beautify themselves - and that is against the rules. As a Lan disciple, one must be concerned with their strength and cultivation, not their looks…

Lan Wangji hears Wei Ying walk into the jingshi before he sees him - or rather, before his image takes form in the mirror, his first body bearing the resemblance he would be having right now if he hadn’t… Lan Wangji’s gaze returns to himself. This is not the place or the time to think such thoughts - so he busies himself with fixing his lapels and smoothing out wrinkles that aren’t actually there.

He’s nervous.

Wei Ying confidently comes up behind him, an easy smile on his face as he glances into the mirror and meets Lan Wangji’s gaze. He’s so close Lan Wangji can almost feel the heat radiating off him, skin prickling at his presence. Wei Ying isn’t even touching him, but the distance between them is so small, a touch that’s barely there, ghostly - that Lan Wangji can’t bear it anymore and pretends to take an unknowing half step back, leaning ever so slightly against Wei Ying.

He huffs out a laugh, and allows his arms to circle around Lan Wangji’s waist, head leaning to rest in the gap between his neck and shoulder. His breaths hit hot against the side of Lan Wangji’s neck, almost hotter than the tips of his ears at the intimacy of this situation.

“You’re pretty.” Wei Ying whispers into his ear, eyelids dropping halfway as he leaves a soft kiss to the side of Lan Wangji’s neck. “You’ve always been so very pretty, you know?”

“Wei Ying.”

“What, am I wrong? Everybody praises the beauty of the Second Jade of Lan, how could I not do too?”

A familiar flurry of arousal and embarrassment stirs within Lan Wangji, coiling like a snake low into his belly.

“Ridiculous.”

“Is it?” And Wei Ying lets one of his hands carefully slide up Lan Wangji’s side, over the soft, embroidered fabric of his robes, teasingly reaching to part his perfectly arranged lapels. “You have way too many layers on you, Lan Zhan, how am I supposed to touch you?”

“Figure it out.”

Wei Ying laughs, half amused, half challenged.

“You’re the patient one between the two of us.” And it is for a moment that Wei Ying’s eyes flash red. “I am not.”

A dark tendril appears seemingly out of nowhere and tears into Lan Wangji’s robes like an impossibly sharp blade. His many layers now hang off his shoulders like a poorly sewn robe, everything else on display in front of the looking glass.

“Hm, perhaps I really was wrong.” Wei Ying muses, a hand willing the tatters off Lan Zhan’s shoulders. “You aren’t pretty. You’re haunting.”

Lan Zhan’s breath catches in his throat, “Wei Ying!”

He doesn’t listen, the tips of his fingers tracing over the skin of Lan Zhan’s chest, the taut skin of his abdomen hiding muscles beneath, dipping to touch the very tops of his thighs. He lets his hands rest there, caressing the soft skin, and seems to enjoy the slight pudginess, poking and squeezing at it ever so slightly. Lan Zhan both does and does not want to watch it happen, enthralled with it as much as he finds it… shameful.

His body is reacting to the touches, the implications of them, the way he can see it all before his eyes as he feels it…

“Say, Lan Zhan…” has Wei Ying’s voice always been this low? “...when you were like this, have you ever touched yourself?”

And so Lan Zhan becomes acutely aware of how hard he is, and wonders how he’s not noticed it until now. Must have been the way he’s been taken in by Wei Ying to think much about himself.

“Well?”

“N-no…”

“No?” And Wei Ying finally slides his hands from Lan Zhan’s thighs to the excitement between them, one resting over his navel, while Wei Ying traces Lan Zhan’s length with the index of the other. A drop of precum catches onto his nail and it glistens into the light for a moment as they both watch the way Wei Ying’s finger travels from the very tip of Lan Zhan’s cock to the base, over the bulging veins and the heated skin.

“How did you deal with this then?”

“I-I didn’t… I did handstands…”

Wei Ying clicks his tongue, and abandons his task just as Lan Zhan thought he would do more than touch him with a finger. He wants to whine, almost, but he still has a shred of dignity left not to do that.

“No wonder you were always so uptight.” And Wei Ying leaves a pitiful kiss to the side of Lan Zhan’s right cheek, a mischievous smile blooming on his face. “No release at all… honestly, you could have died before I did.”

“Wei Yin - ngh!”

He laughs, low and evil as he strokes Lan Zhan in slow, languid movements. “I think you would have been much more amicable if you did this ever now and then… or… had someone else do it for you.”

“Nobody else…” he manages, with conviction, but the rest of his sentence fades into a surprised hiss of pleasure.

Lan Zhan decides to really hold on to that last shred of dignity and squeeze his eyes shut, not wanting to see the way he looks right now. He must be nothing short of pornographic, and that’s too much for him to bear.

“You know, I would have taught you.” Wei Ying purrs in his ear, alternating pace as he squeezes teasingly at the head of Lan Zhan’s cock every time he reaches it. “I used to do it all the time.”

Lan Zhan can’t hold in a pathetic whine at the thought.

“Especially when I was here. There really is nothing else to do in the Cloud Recesses if you’re not a fuddy-duddy.”

Lan Zhan feels both offended and aroused upon hearing that, and he whines again, this time louder, leaning more against Wei Ying’s form now.

“I’m surprised how I didn’t get caught, I was always so risky about it.” Wei Ying kisses into the column of Lan Zhan’s throat, and sucks a few love bites into it, letting him mull over his words. Lan Zhan’s cock throbs into his hand, angry red, and he moans at the onslaught of sensation.

“Tell me, what would you have done to me if you caught me? Would you have sent me to be punished? Told your uncle about it? Or…” And Wei Ying’s pace quickens significantly, twisting his wrist with every stroke, in just the right way for Lan Zhan’s knees to shake with the effort of holding himself upright. “Would you have fucked me yourself?

Taken all that hormonal mess right out of my system?”

“A-ah, Wei Ying, I…I don’t…”

Wei Ying smiled against the skin of Lan Zhan’s neck, breathing almost as erratically as him. “I would have let you, you know? I was so horny all the time, I would have let you do anything to me. In fact, I think I would have let anyone…”

That finally has Lan Zhan open his eyes, to glare at his lover with something that should have been jealousy but ended up as fogged over arousal. He doesn’t want to think of anyone getting to touch Wei Ying, have him like that - but even so, the image is… Him, splayed out over the floor of a room, or the grass, or in the cold springs, naked, covered in marks, screaming for whoever he’s with to -

“What if I did allow someone else to take me and you found us? You know, a lot of people liked me, I think I could’ve gotten some easily… I was so charming and fun, who wouldn’t?”

“Don’t be so -” a loud moan as Wei Ying tugs hard at his cock, “ - so arrogant.”

“I’m not, it’s the truth. And it’s not like everyone wasn’t fucking all over the Cloud Recesses anyway. Well… everyone but me, you and Jiang Cheng.”

“Don’t talk about him while you’re touching me. Or at all.”

Wei Ying laughs and Lan Zhan cranes his head enough so they can kiss. It’s sloppy and clumsy but it’s perfect anyway, even though Lan Zhan moans and whines all the way through it - because Wei Ying is incredibly mean and keeps bringing him to the edge of orgasm without allowing him to go over it, always stopping or slowing down just before the familiar tension of release takes over Lan Zhan’s body.

“Wei Ying…” he gasps out when he can’t focus on kissing anymore, “I need…”

“I know what you need. I can feel it.” And he strokes Lan Zhan’s cock once, languidly, for emphasis. “But it’s more fun not to give it to you.”

“Terrible.”

“I am terrible, yes. That’s my brand, the terrible Yiling Laozu.” And he kisses the tip of Lan Zhan’s nose with a smile that shouldn’t have been so innocent. “But I’m terrible for a reason. Every time you’re about to come, you close your eyes. That’s not what we agreed upon” His attention moves to the mirror, and Lan Zhan can only follow. “I want you to watch yourself when you come. See what I get to see, why I’m so obsessed with it… With you.”

Lan Zhan moans helplessly at that admission, feeling lightheaded with arousal. The thought of getting to see himself in the throes of ecstasy is… interesting, but it’s also definite - he’s had enough of not coming and, at this point, he’s done having dignity about it.

“Fine. I will watch.”

“Good boy.”

Lan Zhan keens, high, at the praise, and his hands grasp at whatever he can reach of Wei Ying. He doesn’t have time to complain about only getting to hold onto the sleeves of his robes - because Wei Ying is a man of his word and he seems to be focused on giving Lan Zhan what he’s so desperately craving without delay.

Lan Zhan is trying to keep quiet, he really is - but the sounds leave him by their own accord, and he’s gasping and whining and moaning like -

“You sound like the most luxurious of whores, Lan Zhan. I could listen to you for hours. I want to get you to sound like this in real life too, I want our house to shake with it…”

“Fuck, Wei Ying - “

“You even swear pretty, it doesn’t even sound dirty in your mouth…” And Wei Ying notices how Lan Zhan’s head’s turned to hide behind the long strands of his hair, eyes squeezing closed - and that just won’t do.

So, with his free hand, he turns Lan Zhan’s head towards the mirror again.

“Open your eyes for me. And I’ll let you do whatever you want to me as punishment after.”

Lan Zhan doesn’t know if his eyes open because of that erotic promise or the force of his orgasm, but he gets to see himself right as he releases, white ropes of it hitting the mirror like a clumsy painting. It throbs all over and inside of him, unforgiving, as Wei Ying slowly works him through it, whispering sweet nothings in his ear about how good he’s just been.

His vision is a little blurry at the edges, but he does note his image, debauched, red crawling all over his face and chest and his muscles taut, a distant look in his eyes - and he gets what Wei Ying meant with his words earlier. The look does suit him, embarrassingly enough.

It clicks immediately after that this is an image inspired from that spring book - the one Wei Ying teased him with when they were studying together in the library. It was the very last scene, where the two protagonists share a night in some kind of enchanted inn… not that Lan Zhan sought the book out to read it after he destroyed it…

Wei Ying winks at him in the mirror, complicit in the understanding, and the dream ends before Lan Zhan can do anything about it.

—

They awake in the middle of the night, not at all rested - but neither mind it.

“So, how was that for a surprise?” Wei Ying asks, a self satisfied smile on his lips. “I told you you’d like it.”

Lan Zhan looks at him with a glint in his eyes. “How do you still remember that detail from the book but none of the other things?”

Wei Ying places a hand over his heart in mock hurt. “Ow, harsh. But, there is a reason - It was my favorite part of the story. I thought about it a lot.”

“Just thought?”

“You want me to answer that?”

Lan Zhan decides to pin him to the bed instead of an answer. “You promised me something.”

Wei Ying tries to seem clueless, though the excited smile gives him away “Did I? I can’t remember!”

“You will.”

(He does.)

[atherix]

PARENT TRAP AU BELOVED the brainrot is never ending<3

Any specific thoughts you feel like sharing?/nf

-🍂

God I love this au <3

LOOK. The scene in my head where Scar comes downstairs to talk to Mumbo about something and just stopping at the door to the den, seeing Mumbo and Grian and the twins and seeing how happy they all look, laughing together and looking like a family... and the slow realization that THAT'S the life Grum wants... that there's no place for him and Tubbo in that picture perfect life... the moment he makes the choice to end things with Mumbo so he can reconcile with Grian bc he doesn't even consider that Mumbo could date BOTH of them... all the moments leading up to this, from the moment Scar and Mumbo met (a total meet-cute btw, they both made absolute fools of themselves and then laughed about it for hours and bonded over their kids) through the dates and meeting each other's kid when they decided they were serious... the proposal, moving in together... all leading to this moment where Scar realizes Mumbo is still in love with Grian... It just lives rent free in my HEAD.

And man, Grum's very sudden realization that he just gave up the family he had for the one he never did... that Grian wasn't going to stay, that Mumbo had no intention to ask Grian to stay... coming home to find Mumbo sitting alone on the couch and asking where Tubbo is, bc Tubbo didn't come home from school with him... finding out Scar and Mumbo had split, that Scar took Tubbo and left... the fact that this news didn't make him happy like he thought it would... all the homey little touches Scar put in the home being gone- the blanket on the back of the couch, the books on the shelf, the ridiculously cute and cartoony dishes Tubbo loved... just how quiet the house is now that they're gone... how sad Mumbo is, despite trying to look strong for Grum... and now Grum is part of a custody agreement and won't even be there with Mumbo half the time either... just the moment he realizes how badly he just fucked Mumbo's life up...

And Grian confronting Mumbo about always giving up without any kind of fight... Mumbo defending himself, saying he can't make someone stay when they want to leave... Grian saying "do you really think he wanted to leave? do you really think I wanted to leave?" and revealing he never wanted to leave Mumbo, he left bc it felt like Mumbo didn't want him anymore and Mumbo did nothing to prove otherwise bc he's a wet noodle of a man who's so focused on the people he loves being happy that he doesn't even stop to wonder if they're doing what will make them happy or what they think will make him happy... and just "are you really going to just sit there and let him walk away? again?" and just hjgfjk 🥺

And Grum and Jrum deciding no, this isn't how it's gonna end and tracking Scar and Tubbo down. Them showing up at their front door and Tubbo answering the door. Tubbo telling them to leave bc they got what they wanted, right, so why are you even here, and Grum finally apologizing for everything he'd said and done over the years their dads were together and asking Tubbo to help them get Mumbo and Scar back together bc Mumbo loves Scar and Scar only left bc of Grum/Grum and Jrum's plan/Grian, an just... Tubbo's reluctance to trust them at all... saying how much it hurt his dad and how he doesn't want to help Grum hurt him more... doesn't want to help Grum hurt Tubbo... that Grum never wanted to be a family so why now... and just hhhghjgfjhj

I love them so much 🥺 Most dysfunctional family but they love each other so much and just hhhjgjf it really is the little things, like Scar making breakfast in the morning but now he's gone and Mumbo is the one cooking but his pancakes aren't as fluffy as Scar's and the eggs are scrambled instead of over easy...... all those little additions to his life that he took for granted, now gone and realizing just how much Scar did for him, for them, because they were a family, and now his family is damaged and torn bc he wanted a family he didn't even remember........

[paperbagsandwich]

I'd love to know more about the food critic au.. 👀 Also that one door-stuck doodle lives rent-free in my head o///o

-🍋

OOOOOOOOOOOHHHHHH!!!

I haven't really been thinking much about it in a while, but a few thoughts came to mind.

So Critic Darnell is actually cursed, he knew that he was in a way but thought that this curse was ridiculous and very odd. It didn't really make sense to him at the time.

The curse being him knowing who's cooking was actually made from love, so his taste in food was solely rated just by that.

He searched and wondered what'll happen if he went out searching for actual good food and how would feel, causing him to travel and become a critic.

Many restaurants fail to satisfy him and hardly passing a 2 out of 5.

Truly a curse as nothing to him ever really tasted right. Not even from the most prestigious and popular of restaurants.

Roslyn isn't a restaurant owner, she's actually a tailor. She just so happens to love cooking very big meals.

A huge storm came as Darnell visited and Ros gave him shelter.

She had already made a huge meal for friends and family, but none came due to the heavy storm.

Roslyn invited him to take a seat and let him eat as much as he wanted since no one was coming at all, so he just makes himself a small plate.

The very first bite took him by surprise. The roast she made was perfectly seasoned and it wasn't too chewy or too rough, but perfectly smooth and easy to bite into. There was even flavor within just the skin of the roast. The large rolls, goodness, who were these made for? It wasn't flaky or buttery, it melted in his mouth.

He started piling his plate with more food, curious to know how they all tasted.

This man was eating like he hadn't eaten in weeks. He hardly even noticed how tight his clothing was getting... but Roslyn... she was flustered at how big he was getting, visibly seeing him expand. She had never seen such a thing before, but she wasn't going to stop a very hungry guest.

The meal Ros originally made for her other guests wasn't a small table at all. This could've feed at least 3 or 4 whole families... and he's gone through almost the whole table.

He only snapped out of it when he had difficulty reaching his plate.

He was shocked and confused as to how a once slender man now is being constricted by the armchair.

"I guess, heh, this is what love looks... and taste like..." He sheepishly smiled.

Roslyn was beet red trying to process what just happened.

• Oop, I ended up fucking writing JDOSNSKSNAKSBS, my bad.

[cyarsk52-20]

14 Things Said During The 'Vanderpump Rules" Finale That Will Stay With Me For The Rest Of My Days, Including "You're Worth Nothing" Ariana looking Sandoval dead in the eye and whispering, "You're worth nothing. And I want you to feel that, deep in your soul. I want you to hear that. I regret ever loving you."

14 Things Said During The 'Vanderpump Rules" Finale That Will Stay With Me For The Rest Of My Days, Including "You're Worth Nothing"

BuzzFeed Staff

Have any of you recovered yet from the other night's Vanderpump Rules finale???? I woke up yesterday (and maybe today) just wanting to hug Ariana. You too?

Basically, the whole world has been counting down until this week's episode — Season 10, Episode 15, titled "#Scandoval" — to see what exactly happened in the Vanderpump Rules bubble when news broke that Tom Sandoval and Raquel Leviss were having a seventh-month-long affair.

If you're not up to date on what happened Wednesday night, here's a very helpful — and detailed — recap.

A lot went down, so I decided to do a fun little roundup of quotes from the finale that will live rent-free in my head FOREVER. Here are some of them.

1. In the opening scenes where Ariana was on her couch taking in the Scandoval news, she said to her friend about Tom, "He gives me the ick."

Producers knew what they were doing here because as Ariana said this line, cameras panned to Tom looking at himself in the mirror, truly giving EVERYONE the ick.

2. The now-famous scene where Tom asked Ariana if she wants anything and she casually turns to him and says, "For you to die."

3. During the emotional conversation between Ariana and Tom when she bravely told him off and she said, "'Selfish' is the nicest word you could use" when Tom said his and Raquel's actions were selfish.

4. During this same conversation when Tom said to Ariana, "You put pressure on me to stay in the relationship." I wanted to throw my TV right out the window when I heard this gaslighting.

5. TBH, Ariana was full of great one-liners during this intense conversation with Tom, so another favorite of mine is when she asked him, "Any last words before we never speak again?" MIC DROPPED.

6. Ariana looking Sandoval dead in the eye and whispering, "You're worth nothing. And I want you to feel that, deep in your soul. I want you to hear that. I regret ever loving you." YES, QUEEN. 👑

7. Fast-forward to when Tom Sandoval went over to Tom Schwartz's apartment and the two were digesting the affair. The conversation that took place between these two was on another level. Like, when Sandoval said to Schwartz, "I wanted to tell [Ariana] and every time I wanted to tell her, I got this vibe that she just did not want to fucking know." WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?

8. I can't stop thinking about when Schwartz said to Katie in the midst of a serious convo, "There's man-eating crocodiles in Florida right now." Is he OKAY?!

9. When James was on the phone with Raquel calling her out on her shit, I lost it when he said to her, "All the people you were building friendships with, you literally trashed it for Sandoval's little cocky cock.

10. James continued... "His stinky 40-year-old cock, like seriously Raquel?" JAMES KENNEDY FOR PRESIDENT. 👏

11. Okay, how about that very cringe, awkward scene when Sandoval went over to Raquel's apartment for them to hold each other and cry? 🙄 When talking about his family liking Raquel, he said "they love you" and Raquel responded by saying "I love you too."

12. It really got even worse when Sandoval replied, "I said 'They love you' but I love you too.” I almost FAINTED.

13. When Tom said in his confessional, "When I kissed Raquel, I felt hope." To me, this is a ridiculous cop out and him trying to justify his horrible actions.

14. When former VPR cast member Kristen Doute went over to Ariana's house to counsel her, Ariana was explaining what Tom's camp came out and said to the public. "They said [my and Tom's] relationship was one of companionship and convenience and not love and romance." Talk about a pathetic excuse.

There is a lot to digest here! Tell me all your VPR finale thoughts in the comments below.

Watch the finale episode and more Vanderpump Rules on Peacock!

Read in BuzzFeed: https://apple.news/A8c0k-w_SSgeJfc25GHuI6Q

Shared from Apple News

Sent from my iPhone

[marie-dufresne]

Tainted Bloodlines

In true Frenchie Style, here I am with a fic with absolutely zero context, in the middle of the timeline of an AU that lives rent free in my head but nowhere on paper.

Former schoolmate and fellow socialite Lucius Malfoy harasses Vincent about his recent life changes.

1983

Being chained to a desk was not how Vincent Valentine had imagined his career as an Auror would begin. It had been nearly a year since his initiation ceremony and while it had taken him longer than most to complete his training, he still remained one of the most promising youths in the office despite his current role as a paper pusher.

Halfway through his journey to his desk, he was intercepted by—no--joined by a face he couldn’t say he was ever pleased to see.

Lucius Malfoy.

They’d been contemporaries at school, if only for two years, Lucius graduating after Vincent’s second year, but he’d never forget the remarks that had been made in an attempt to foster a friendship. Lucius had been able to ‘forgive’ Vincent’s sorting into Ravenclaw, on account of his family’s prestige and pureblooded lineage.

Even more aloof as a child than he was now as a young man, Vincent had avoided contact since.

“So it’s true then,” Lucius all but purred as they walked, both possessing a slow, leisurely gait, “the Auror with the golden arm.”

Casting his sight down to his left hand, Vincent hid the glittering flesh beneath his crimson robes, ignoring the comment. He was grateful to be alive, but embarrassed by the mark that caused him to stand out. He didn’t ever intend to be known beyond his family name, and the marred appendage only reminded him of the time he’d spent tortured by Hojo.

“I’m sorry to hear of your experience with those….Death Eaters,” Lucius went on, “it must have been…horrific.”

This time, Vincent did cast his glance to the side, lifting his chin a bit.

“You would know, wouldn’t you?”

Malfoy let a small bit of air through his nose, entertaining a smirk, “come now, Valentine. We all know I was under the Imperius Curse at that time. Don’t hold that against me. The Ministry certainly doesn’t.”

Yes. That was the story Lucius spun once the Wizarding War came to an end and the Death Eaters had been rounded up and sent to Azkaban, Malfoy was spared, his story and influence gaining him pardon that no one truly believed in, including the Valentine family. Society Elites did not remain ignorant of each others’ histories and habits, after all.

“I would congratulate you on your recent nuptials,” he offered, changing the subject. Valentines weren’t as easily swayed as some; keeping attention off the recent past was best for now, “but I didn’t receive an invitation.”

“It was a small ceremony,” Vincent clipped, not at all the jovial socialite his father was.

“A disgrace,” Lucius corrected, “shackling yourself to a half-blood. I had always thought so much better of your family.”

Ah. So that was his true intention. To make an attempt to humiliate him with his ridiculously outdated ideals. Vincent wasn’t about to defend his personal life to someone he despised, so again, he awarded him silence.

“I’ve married as well. I would have invited you but you were…” he cast his glance down to where Vincent’s left hand rested under his robes, “occupied.”

“Interesting way to say ‘left for dead’,” Vincent mused.

“Narcissa Black. Surely you remember her. A true lady, unlike your…mudblood of a bride.”

At the slur, Vincent’s jaw set so hard he wondered if his teeth might crack, but he didn’t respond or lash out. There were more important matters at hand than an overgrown bully. He did recall Narcissa Black and found she suited Malfoy perfectly well. In his estimation, that was most certainly not a compliment.

This walk was hardly so torturous any other day of the week. How close were they to the lifts? His office couldn’t be far off now. “We have a son. I suggest you do the same. There’s nothing you can do to fix your family now, but the very least you can do is erase as much of the muggle from it as you can.”

“I—“

“Until next time, Valentine.”

And before Vincent could come up with a proper rebuttal, Malfoy was gone, leaving the new Auror more befuddled than offended.

He hadn’t thought about children yet.

[cetaceans-pls]

Apologies if this is a repeat but I didn't trust tumblr not having eaten this ask before so: there's this image that's been living rent-free in my head and considering your 'DG quits the pigs cinematic universe' I think you'll find it just as funny. First some context. I don't know if you are aware but a while ago there was this girl who did a ticktock or smth about her not thinking djs had a ral job and then a dj did a remix of that that became a total hit while displayed the ticktock used to the crowd enjoying the remix. Soon after finding out that ilarious bit of pettiness I saw this tumblr fanart of Jay in full RH going into one of his rant at Bats abt how he only kills those who deserve it, only for Bats to cut in with "what are you a cop?" and Jay to look appropiately horrified as a result. And somehow those two things mixed in my brain until I realized he could have horrified more people as Brucie. Let me elaborate:

So Brucie is at a Gala and somehow Bullock and still-a-cop Dick are there too but the Gala does as Galas in Gotham do and get crashed by the ambitious bad guy of the hour so RH has to go fetch. During clean-up Jay makes the mistake of trying o engage Brucie in a talk about the morality of murder when Bullock and still-a-cop Dick are in hearing distance so -in full Brucie mode- he just says "what are you a cop?" literally all three other men are mortally offended and horrified. Bullock launches into a thin-blue-line speech that has both of Bruce's kids feeling VERY uncomfortable. At one point he realizes he's being recorded by Wayne, but when he asks about it Bruce just says "negative reiforcement" and encourages him to keep going. And yes that does end up in Bruce playing that recording whenever he's too tired to have That Talk with Jay again but unfortuantely for both his kids Brucie is sucha meme for all of Gotham that it could never have ended there.

As it turns out rich people's galas are filled with rich people's ridiculously expensive camera phones and rich people have friends in the artistic scene who know gold when they've struck it. Soon, "what are you a cop?" becomes a N1 hit; containing bastardized samples of Bullock's impassioned speach, Brucie's butal yet seemingly unintentional BURN, and a RH and Officer Grayson who seem to be wishing to be yeeted from their mortal coils. A ridiculously large number of people are now using it as their ringtones for either Jay or Dick and Bruce is just marveling that something so beautiful could have happenned in his life without him having moved a finger to achieve it.

Have a great day! 8D

hey anon! tumblr's been hardcore swallowing messages, it seems like, so thanks for repeating yourself :')

i'm not aware of the tiktok of the girl dissing a dj and then getting remixed to hell and back, but i am very much team #ACAB and i think it's very very funny to have bruce use that as a club when jason acts a little uppity!! it's also much much funnier for the killing blow to happen while bruce is in brucie mode, and dick and bullock catching strays just makes it a 11/10 scenario, no notes, oh my god.

the clip going viral and 'what are u a cop' being used as an insult (gotham man has his card swallowed by an atm machine and snarls what is UP with this cop behaviour) is the reality we deserve.... i didn't think much about the catalyst for dick of dick grayson quits being a cop cinematic universe fame, but your scenario is JUST that right mix of traumatising and so so so funny that i See it.

like jason i reckon not all murder is bad, but also i love the concept of bruce's greatest most positive impact on his kids is becoming an insidious voice inside their head (and on their phones) asking 'is this reasonably or are you being a cop about this?' i will henceforth ponder more scenarios where brucie metaphorically massacres ppl with his mouth.... gosh anon i've really been underestimating how much power my guy holds....

[ghostinyourbuilding]

August 18th, Thursday. 03.22am. Go to sleep, ghost.

I'm a bit perturbed. I've been introspective all day and this feels genuinely weird, there's some things bothering me which is not a very common thing. Maybe writing it down will help, I'm not really sure how to deal with feeling anxious since it usually is not something I deal with. Oh well, won't hurt to see if this helps a wee bit.

-----

My head is a mess, and it's all because of Ted. I usually don't tend to feel anything different with people no matter how interesting or special they are, I either like them or I don't and that's it. However, something has been bubbling up lately and it's making me unquiet.

I can't quite point out exactly what it is and that's driving me crazy. I don't feel insecure, I don't feel ashamed, I don't feel uncertain - I've got no fucking clue! Never in my fucking life have I been haunted by the presence of someone I have readily available. Why do I feel like this?

I enjoy talking to him and seeing him and that's nothing new, I have enjoyed the company of so many people before I can't even possibly count it. Why is it different now?

Why is every effort noticeable and every comment important when with everyone else I wouldn't consider it out of the ordinary? People never even live in my head rent-free but for some reason he does and he's even appearing in my fucking dreams.

This is ridiculous, this is a break of the norm and I should just cut it short and stop talking but for some reason I really look forward to spending time with him. What the fuck.

The only comfort I have in this situation is knowing it will pass and that soon he will be meaningless like every other, and I'll know for sure why this is happening.

[blisschi]

Alright I'm here to request (づ￣ ³￣)づ

Kazuha, Kaeya, and Scaramouche have been living in my mind rent free lately AND I finally started baking so I was thinking maybe them reacting to the reader giving them some treats they made/baking with the reader? You can add any characters you want!! I just thought this would be really cute ☆*:. o(≧▽≦)o .:*☆

-noelle anon

• Getting them to taste your first bakings •

Pairings: Scaramouche/Kazuha/Kaeya x Reader •

Warnings: Reader is gender neutral for both Scara and Kazuha, but Kaeya one's with female pronouns! (I couldn't hold myself back thinking about his teasing -ω(´•ω•｀)♡ ))

Notes: Have a nice day lovely! ( ˘͈ ᵕ ˘͈♡)˚๐*˟ ♡

• Scaramouche •

The first moment he hears about your new passion makes him scoff. What is it that made you so interested in baking? Perhaps instead of such trivial things as testing out dessert recipes, you could actually use your hands to do something usefull.

"You're gonna get bored in less than two weeks." He'd say. Pitiful smile painted all over his face.

Sharing new ideas with Scaramouche indeed was something difficult. He either laughs at you or gets pissed by the idea of trying something HE finds useless. The only thing you have to do is prove to him, that his actions indeed aren't quite right.

Then, you finally get an idea! Cupcakes decorated with lavender melon and sakura petals! He has to like it!

Scaramouche would be quite hesitant when you give him self-made sweets. Obviously - his first reaction was to turn you down without even giving it a second thought.

Well, everyone is going to break when one is saying magic word - also known as 'please' all over and all over again.

The moment he takes a bite you could see that his expression doesn't quite change, but there's this small sparkle in his eyes that betrays him!

"What do you think?" You'd ask happily.

"Not ba-- Ahem, well- I told you there's no use for you to continue this ridiculous misunderstanding.. You're just as terrible as I thought."

Harsh words that left his mouth don't really hurt, and you know why? The moment you reached for the plate to take remaining cupcakes back to the kitchen - his hand grabbed yours.

You looked at him and noticed pale blush spreading across his face. His gaze focused onto completely different direction.

"Leave.." His voice seemed lower than usual. "Cupcakes I mean.. leave them here."

• Kazuha •

Kazuha isn't really used to eating sweets. He never was. As to think about it, he doesn't really eat much in general. Especially now while being part of Crux Fleet family - there's no time to be picky.

The moment he hears your idea about baking, he's quite curious.. amused even? Baking could be a piece of art if one's hands decide it to be.

It took you a while what dessert could Kazuha like, but in the end you decided to go with something simple! In the future you'll surely have an occasion to surprise your lover with more complicated recipes.

Apple pie it is then! Maybe you'd even ask him for a walk together on which you'd pick some fresh and good looking apples.

You find Kazuha on one of the mountains near Liyue. As usual, he's sitting on the grass, eyes closed as he let's himself listen to the song of nature.

"Kazuha.." You'd whisper. "I brought you something sweet! I made it myself so there's no refusing!"

"Smells good." - was the first thing he said. Your quiet chuckle followed. Handing Kazuha the plate, you sat down next to him and excitedly waiting for him to take a bite.

"How is it?"

"Tasty." Male looked at you, gentle smile making your heart flutter. One of his arms found it's way around your waist. "Never would I doubt it'd be any different, my muse."

• Kaeya •

Kaeya, Kaeya, Kaeya.. who would it be if even the slightest change you decide to make would avoid teasing?

"Oh? Baking?~" His head turned towards you, smile never leaving that pretty face of his. "Aren't you already too sweet? My little girl wants to play housewife.~"

What did you expect though? Kaeya has always been like this and it doesn't look like he's going to change anytime soon.. but you don't really want him to change. Constant teasing and leaving you blushing is something both you find quite entertaining.

Back to baking! It'd take you a while to actually think of something that could impress Kaeya. Something that he has never tasted before.. Sunsettia cookies? No.. Oh!- Yellow berry muffins! There's no way he doesn't like it! Is there anyone that doesn't like muffins anyway?

Trying your best to make them look the most appealing, you finally get out of the kitchen with few perfect-looking treats on a plate you're holding.

Getting into Kaeya's office and excitedly looking as he takes the first bite only to notice that.. he looks.. disappointed?

"You.. don't like it?"

"I have a feeling that you forgot to add the most important ingredient there is."

"But.. I'm sure I followed the recipe corre--" Wrapping his arms around you, Cavalry Captain pulled you onto his lap and connected your lips into quite heated kiss - not giving you the chance to continue. The moment your lips parted, cocky smile appeared on his face as you actually got to feel the taste of your own baking.

"I-It tastes fine, y-you--"

"That one ingredient was you, darling.~"

[watchmegetobsessed]

TO LOVE AND BE LOVED - Part One (Harry Styles)

a/n: oh my god i am sooo thankful for the love the masterlist got with just so little info about the story! it means so much to me and i really hope i won’t disappoint you with this story! i was planning to post the first part on tuesday but i got excited bc of all the feedback and reactions and decided to start earlier, so here it is, part one of TLABL, a story im kind of proud of and very happy to share! please drop by my ask box or leave your thoughts on the story, i would love to hear everything from you guys!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 11.2k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

“I hope you realize this holds nothing against you, we all love and appreciate you and your work, but we had to face some unexpected problems this past year.”

You sit in front of Claire, your boss completely dumbfounded, not even comprehending what she is saying completely. You came to work this morning absolutely oblivious that today is going to be your last day of work at the daycare you’ve been working at for over two years now.

“I’m sorry, but last time you let us in on the budget you didn’t bring up any complication that might have indicated someone could lose their job, so what possible problem could have come up so abruptly?” you ask with a shocked and nervous chuckle. Part of you kind of hopes this is just some stupid joke she is playing on you, but Claire is not one to make games out of such serious things. Letting out a tired sigh she pushes her reading glasses up to the top of her head into her carefully curled hair.

“Look, I’m really trying not to make a big deal out of it, but we had to make some cuts on the budget. The kitchen and gymnasium renovation was completely unplanned and it kicked us in the butt. We are making some changes about the groups this year and it was made that it can be solved with one less person on the team. I’m sorry it had to be you, but the decision had to be made.”

“But why me?” you press. “There are two people who have been working for a shorter period of time here, didn’t I earn your trust during my time here?”

“It’s not about that, Y/N,” Claire shakes her head.

“Then what is this about?”

“If you are so keen on knowing, we’ve… received a few… complaints.” Your eyebrows shoot up to your hairline, this is the first time you’re hearing about it.

“Complaints?”

“Yes. Some parents are not quite the fan of the kind of mentality you are using while teaching the kids.”

“What are you talking about?” you ask, feeling all the blood rushing out of your face. This is starting to get way too nasty. Claire pinches the bridge of her nose before leaning onto her desk, clasping her hands together.

“I know that you are quite the free spirit and want to teach the kids about openness and acceptance, but not everyone is as rainbow as you are. Some kids brought the word home about what kind of books you’ve been reading and we’ve gotten a few concerns about you basically promoting the LGBTQ community for the kids.”

“I’m not promoting, I’m trying to teach them to accept everyone just the way they are, how can that upset anyone?!”

“Well, it does. The committee had to make a decision on who we should let go and many agreed that it might be the safest decision to make it be… you.”

You’re about to faint. You are sure you are about to fall off this chair and just black out. How can someone get mad about you reading stories about acceptance and treating everyone equally? What kind of monster can see it as a bad thing? And now you are losing your job over such a stupid thing that you don’t even feel responsible for.

Though you’d love to stay and try to convince Claire to not let you go, you know the decision has been made and if you’re being honest, you don’t feel comfortable anymore working at a place where parents tell you off for teaching important values for their kids. Sadly, but you sign all paperwork about your immediate parting and you leave Claire’s office to pack your stuff.

“Miss Y/N! Miss Y/N!” Izzy, one of the sweetest girls in your group basically launches herself at you, smashing against your legs as she hugs you happily. “Do you want to see what I just painted?” She blinks up at you with her gorgeous green eyes and your heart breaks that you won’t get to see her again.

“Oh, Sweetie. I have to—you know what? Sure. Show me your painting,” you smile at her warmly. You can’t say no to her, not when this is the last time you get to see her.

As you’re cleaning out your locker in the break room, Heather walks in and stops in her tracks, seeing you with your gloomy face as you pack everything into a cardboard box.

“What the hell are you doing?” she questions right away. The two of you have known each other for years now, you did the same master’s programme and somehow ended up working here together, carrying on the friendship you’ve formed through your school years.

“I was… fired,” you sigh, wincing at the words.

“What?! Why?”

“Apparently, we are having some budget problems with all the renovations that was made recently and unbeknownst to me, some parents have been complaining about my openness with kids so I was the lucky one to part ways with.”

“That’s fucking bullshit! The kids adore you, how can someone complain about something like that?”

“Don’t know, ask them if you ever find out who they are,” you mumble under your breath as you shut the now empty locker closed. “I’m sorry we can’t carpool anymore,” you pout at her.

“No fucks given about that, what are you gonna do now?” she asks, seemingly very bummed at the news that you won’t be working at the same place now.

“I don’t know,” you shrug. “I guess I’ll have to find something new if I don’t want to end up on the streets,” you mumble.

“Oh girl, I’m so sorry,” Heather sighs pulling you into a hug. “Why don’t we go out for drinks on Friday? Everything is on me!”

“Don’t act like I’m already broke, makes me feel like a loser.”

“Sorry,” she scowls. “Just want to brighten you up a little. Meet me at seven at that Mexican place, how does that sound?”

“Stuffing my face with nachos and tequila? Sounds like the best plan I could wish for.”

You waste no time arriving home after your worst day at work. You jump right into the job ads, looking for basically anything that might help you out of this impossible situation. Sending your resume to as many places as possible, you get a few callbacks the next few days, but you only make it to one interview on Friday and that doesn’t go well either. The man who calls in for an open position at a private kindergarten turns out to be a total snob and he doesn’t find your free spirit too fitting with the profile of his institution so you get rejected at the end of the interview.

You head out to meet Heather feeling like shit. You’ve been unemployed for four days, but it’s already breaking your spirits.

“You know what? Clair is a bitch for giving in to the complaints,” Heather slams her fourth shot glass on the table with a grimace. “She should have defended you!”

“I’m sure she just didn’t want to get into any disagreement. Some of the parents donate great amounts to the school and Claire would never risk losing that money,” you sigh rolling your eyes.

“Okay, but she is being very… not inclusive,” she narrows her eyes. “Firing someone for teaching the kids openness? Bullshit.”

“I’m just sad I don’t get to see the kids anymore. They really grew close to my heart.”

“The little fuckers can be so damn cute, almost make me want to have one.” Heather sighs, downing another shot before pulling the nachos closer to her. You laugh at her vulgar reaction, she has always had quite a dirty mouth but somehow she controls herself well around the kids. “How has the job hunting been?”

“Horrible,” you growl in frustration. There are not many that offer a good paycheck and the few that does are these posh places that expect you to treat the kids like they are made out of gold which is ridiculous. That’s not how you raise a kid!”

“I’m sorry, I’m sure something will come up soon. Why don’t you look into nanny jobs, have you thought about that?”

“What do you mean?” you furrow your eyebrows, popping some chips into your mouth.

“A lot of people prefer having nannies for their little children, some even want them to move in. My brother’s ex-girlfriend was a live-in nanny for about two years and she earned a shit ton of money, because she didn’t have to pay rent and a good chunk of the food, because the parents just treated her like part of the family and bought groceries for five people instead of four.”

“I’m not sure I’m cut out for that kind of stuff.”

“What, earning money?” Heather scoffs.

“No, living with a stranger.”

“Most of the time the nanny gets like a separated place so it wouldn’t be that bad, but you know what’s good for you. It was just an idea,” she shrugs.

Soon enough you drop any work talk not wanting to ruin the mood. You enjoy some time away from the stress of job hunting and you’re just trying to have fun with your best friend. You start talking about nostalgic memories from college and end up looking up people you graduated with on social media, checking out what they’ve been up to in the past years.

“Alright, I’m gonna go to the restroom quickly, watch out for my drink,” you announce pushing your drink closer to Heather as you head towards the restrooms.

There’s a bit of a line so you stand behind two girls chatting about some cute guy they just met and leaning against the wall you close your eyes for a moment, feeling the drinks hitting you in the head. You’re not used to drinking, haven’t really had the time to get drunk too much lately and it’s saddening to think that now that you’re unemployed, you could black out every day, you wouldn’t have anywhere to show up in the morning.

Getting deep in your thoughts you almost don’t even notice that your phone is buzzing in your pocket. When you finally realize you pull it out of your back pocket and look down at the unknown number with a scowl. You quickly leave your spot in the line and rush out to hear something as you answer the call.

“Hello?”

“Hi, I hope I’m not calling at an inconvenient time, I’m Harry Styles and I’m looking to talk to Y/N Y/L/N?” you hear a thick British accent on the other end of the line.

“This is her.”

“Great. Sorry for the late call, I’m Isabelle’s father.”

“Isabelle?” you ask in confusion, the names not really clicking in your head thanks to the shots you’ve been taking.

“Isabelle Styles? Izzy?”

“Oh! Yes! Sorry, yeah. Mr. Styles, what can I help you with?” you ask, not sure why Izzy’s dad would be calling you.

“Well I just recently learned from my daughter that you’re not working at the daycare any longer?” “Uh, yeah. Unfortunately I was fired this Monday…” you awkwardly answer.

“I’m sorry about that. Izzy has been really sad about it, I wanted to ask if you’ve found a new job already?”

“Not yet, I’ve been looking but I haven’t had much luck yet,” you confess.

“In that case I have an offer to make,” he firmly continues and you perk up at his words. “I’ve been thinking about pulling Izzy out of daycare, but I didn’t want to do it until I found someone to take good care of her. You’ve been her absolute favorite and she’s been devastated since you’ve been gone. If you’re up for a job of this kind, I would like to offer you a spot as Izzy’s nanny.”

“Oh!” is all you react, completely not expecting this call.

“I know there are a lot to discuss, but if you’re interested, I would be more than happy to have a chat with you sometime this weekend? To go over the details and see if we can make it work.”

“I, uh… Um, yeah. We can meet, that sounds good. When would it be good for you?”

“How about tomorrow afternoon?”

“That can work.”

“Amazing!” he beams. “I’ll send you the address through text if that’s alright for you.”

“Yeah, of course. When should I be there?”

“Would three o’clock suit you?”

“Absolutely,” you nod, stunned at the turn of events.

“Great, thank you so much, and once again, sorry to bother you on your Friday evening. Looking forward to see you tomorrow!”

“Thank you, Mr. Styles, see you soon!”

You get back in line at the bathroom and then make your way back to the table where Heather gives you a puzzled look.

“Did you take a massive shit or something?” she jokes as you take your seat and stare back at her, still in shock.

“No, I had a very interesting call, actually.”

“With who?”

“Um, Izzy Styles’ dad just called and offered me a job as her nanny.”

Heather almost chokes on her drink, coughing at the news. You hand her a napkin as she dries her chin off from her cocktail.

“Harry Styles wants you to be the nanny of his daughter?” she gasps.

“You know Izzy’s dad?”

“Y/N, everyone knows him! He is the sexiest man to walk this planet and not to mention that he is like stupidly rich! Have you not seen him yet?”

“Not really,” you shrug. “Izzy was picked up by an old woman most of the times, I guess I never worked when her dad came for her.”

“That explains why you’re not squirming already,” she scoffs. “That man is like… crazy hot, I’m telling you. I bumped into him one morning when I guess he was dropping Izzy off, the way he said ‘Pardon me, Darling’ made my knees shake,” she tells you, faking an accent that’s nowhere near what Mr. Styles sounded like on the phone.

“Well, I guess I’ll see him for myself. I’m meeting him tomorrow to discuss details,” you shrug and Heather slams her hand on the table.

“Oh my God! You’re gonna work for Harry Fucking Styles! Get ready because your panties will be soaking wet all the time,” she laughs like a hyena.

“Heather, stop!” you shake your head laughing too.

Following Mr. Styles’ call you decide to cut the night shorter than you intended, not wanting to look absolutely wasted when you meet him. Arriving home to your small, one bedroom apartment you take a quick shower before climbing to bed, staring up at the ceiling, trying to collect your thoughts. You told Heather you’re not willing to do the whole live-in nanny thing and Mr. Styles might not even want you to live with them, but now that the option is there, you realize it might not be the worst case scenario. Especially since you’re not really swimming in other job offers and you are in desperate need of anything at this point.

Despite having consumed quite some alcohol the previous night, you wake up at a reasonable hour in the morning, finding a text from Mr. Styles about the address you’d have to be going in the afternoon. You make a quick trip to the grocery store and do some chores before you start getting ready for the meeting. You opt for a simple black dress that reaches your knees and pair it with a little funkier, flower printed blazer to bring some color into the outfit.

Punching the address into the GPS you see that it’s taking you to the outer skirt of the city to the neighborhood that’s known to have some quite luxurious estates and you immediately think back to what Heather said about him being ridiculously rich. Driving down the streets in your old Volkswagen you couldn’t stand out more at a place where at least three cars park on the driveways and one of them is a Ferrari or a Porsche.

There’s a massive security gate under the address that’s your destination and it’s left open so you can pull up to the driveway easily. You park next to a fucking Tesla, finding it extremely funny to see your car next to it, but it is what it is. Walking up to the front door you ring the bell as you take a look at the house that can easily considered to be a mansion. Guessing from the outside there are at least about five bedrooms in it and you can only imagine what other luxurious units are squeezed into it.

Soon enough the front door opens and you find yourself staring back at a breathtakingly gorgeous man, wearing a white dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up and black suit pants, his chocolate curls falling to his forehead as his emerald eyes fall on you, a warm smile tugging on his lips.

Shit. Heather was fucking right, you think to yourself swallowing hard.

“Miss Y/L/N, it’s so nice to see you. I’m Harry, Izzy’s dad, come on in!” he invites you inside before a short handshake.

“Nice to meet you too, Mr. Styles.”

“Please, just call me Harry. I don’t like formalities at home,” he asks you as the two of you walk further inside until you arrive to what looks like a living room, but it’s actually the size of your apartment.

“Only if you call me Y/N,” you smile at him and he nods right away.

“Miss Y/N!” you hear a small voice call out and turning around you see Izzy running down the hallway until she throws herself against your legs.

“Oh, hello Sunshine!” you hum, squatting down so you can hug her.

“I missed you!” she pouts, rubbing her eyes.

“I missed you too,” you smile at her, caressing her soft cheeks before standing up. An older lady walks in, the one you’ve seen picking up Izzy. She approaches you with a friendly smile as she extends a hand towards you.

“Hi, I’m Ruth, it’s nice to meet you.” “Y/N, nice to meet you too.”

“Ruth, would you take Izzy outside while I talk to Miss—erm, Y/N here?” Harry requests. Ruth nods and taking Izzy’s hand she lures her outside to look for ladybugs in the backyard and that immediately catches her attention. The two of them leave through the sliding door, giving you and Harry privacy.

“Please, have a seat,” he gestures towards the sectional couch. “Would you like something to drink?”

“I’m good, thank you,” you smile at him as he sits in an armchair across you.

The interior of the house is quite cozy, kind of modern with a hint of vintage touches that make it less rigid, a pop of color showing at most corners so it’s not too monochrome. You quite like it.

“Y/N, I once again apologize for calling you at such an inappropriate hour, but I often work late and I wanted to get in touch with you as soon as possible upon hearing the news.”

“Don’t worry about it, I understand.”

“Isabelle mentioned it to me on Thursday that the other workers told her you no longer work at the daycare so I asked around a little yesterday and was informed that they let you go earlier in the week.”

“It was quite sudden for me as well,” you chuckle lightly, feeling a little anxious to talk about it.

“I know it’s not too appropriate, but I asked why they chose you to part ways with and I have to say it’s outraging that some parents are so ignorant and wayward. I’m really sorry this had to be the reason out of everything.”

“Thank you.” It actually feels nice that he thinks the same, this whole firing was ridiculous and you were losing hope in humanity, but Harry is now very much restoring it.

“Let me walk you through what the situation is here and what I was thinking about.” You nod and listen carefully. “I’m president of a record label and it consumes most of my time, I sometimes work sixty hours a week which I know is not ideal and healthy and I’m trying to change it, but it’s not an easy situation. I thought that putting Izzy into daycare was a good idea, but it’s been getting harder to work around her schedule as a single parent with so much work on my hands. Ruth is a family friend who has been helping tremendously with Izzy, but she is not getting any younger and she would like to retire fully and spend more time with her own grandkids. So I’ve been thinking about hiring a nanny for Izzy and try to make her days work around mine while I’m able to do that. She is going to start preschool in little over a year and I want to spend as much time with her as possible, but it’s not easy when the schedule depends on an institution. When she told me about your firing I had the thought that you might be interested in taking the spot as her nanny. She is obsessed with you, wouldn’t stop talking about what you do every day, and I might have also looked into your professional background. I like what I’ve seen and I’m very much into the way you’ve been dealing with the kids at the daycare. Openness is really important and I want Izzy to grow up in an environment that teaches her about being equal and supportive towards each other. I would be more than happy if you’d be the one taking care of Izzy while I’m not available.”

To say the east you’re stunned at how forward and open he was about the offer and his compliment about your professional background is quite flattering. You can tell he is doing an amazing job at raising Izzy as an open and accepting human, she was always one of the nicest and sweetest kids who always made sure to include all her peers in the games you played. And it’s obvious Harry is not just being a hypocrite, his tattooed arm, painted nails and ring clad fingers are not quite what you’d traditionally imagine a man like him wear, but he does it well and clearly doesn’t give a fuck what others might think about it.

Harry continues with how much he thought you’d be earning for the job and you almost choke on your own saliva. It’s almost three times as much as you’ve been earning at the daycare and you’d be able to save a good chunk every month which is quite amazing.

“I have to ask, were you thinking about a situation where I live with you or I’d have to be coming here every day?”

“Well, essentially it would be the easiest for everyone if you moved in. I have plenty of rooms you could choose from and you’d have access to everything else as well, of course, including the home gym, the pool, the sauna and the entertainment room. But I understand if you are not willing to make that commitment. If you choose to live here you wouldn’t be charged anything, naturally.”

This actually sounds like a dream, moving into this luxury mansion from your cramped little apartment and being able to save the money you’ve been paying on rent.

“And what would be the time management? If I moved in it would easily make me fall into a habit of always working, which is not quite ideal,” you point it out.

“Of course,” he nods. “I like to take care of her morning routine so you’d have to start around nine when I leave to the office. If we can make this deal working I’d like her to start taking some extra classes during the day, moving her activities earlier in the day so her afternoons would be free. She takes piano lessons on Mondays and Wednesdays, a swimming instructor comes here on Thursdays and she is taking French lessons every Tuesday and Friday. Everything takes place here, I would reschedule her activities to take place between nine and twelve. You wouldn’t have to worry about her during those times. You’d cover lunch time and then the afternoons. I try to get home between four and six and just work from home if it’s possible so I can be around her. You’d have to only help out whenever I can’t make it home in time I have urgent works that have to be done from home. We could have dinner time together and then her night time routine is my duty again. Ruth is willing to help me out on Saturdays and I spend Sundays with her strictly without any work distraction so you’d have the weekends off unless something comes up. In those cases I would check in with you beforehand and arrange it however it works best for you.”

You’re speechless for a moment. What he just shared doesn’t seem too bad, you might have to work a lot more, but being one on one with just one kid is much easier than dealing with fifteen of them at once. Not to mention that the money is still amazing compared to what you’d have to be doing.

“I’m gonna be honest with you, it’s an amazing offer. Izzy is such a sweet girl, I would be more than happy to take care of her.”

Harry smiles at you warmly, clearly proud of his daughter, as he should be.

“Can I ask for some time to think about it? It would be a huge commitment.” “Of course. Take your time and let me know whatever your decision is.”

“Thank you.”

Harry offers a quick tour in the house regardless, the kitchen is massive, they have a nice dining area with floor-to-ceiling windows looking out to the green slopes of the backyard that seems to be Izzy’s kingdom. She has a playhouse that could almost function as a real one, the pool is filled with floaties for her and she has her own playground further in the back with slides, monkey bars and a swing set. Your assumptions were almost right about the number of bedrooms. Beside Harry’s master and Izzy’s own room there’s one that’s been used by Ruth, one that’s for Harry’s mother and sister for whenever they are staying over and there are three additional rooms now serving as guest bedrooms, one of those would be turned into your room if you chose to move in. The gym seems better than the one you’ve been going whenever you felt like being a little active, the entertainment room has everything you could ever think about for a room this sort of and the sauna is already calling your name. Living and working here might actually feel like a vacation.

“Miss Y/N! Look what I found!” Izzy runs up to you when you and Harry step out to the backyard, holding her pointing finger up. A ladybug is wandering around her tiny finger, not even bothering with the amazed girl that’s inspecting it.

“Wow! How many dots do you see on it?” you ask and she knits her eyebrows together, counting the black dots.

“Five!”

“Yes, good job!” you ruffle her curls as she smiles up at you proudly. She really is an angel, you’ve grown to like her a lot and you would be lying if you said you didn’t get emotional over thinking about never seeing her again. Being able to take care of her and give her the best possible childhood would be such a dream and the chance to do that is right in front of you.

“I’ll be waiting for your call, Y/N,” Harry smiles at you walking you towards the front door.

“Harry, I don’t think you need to do that,” you speak up and see his face fall, he obviously took it the wrong way, thinking that you want to say no to his offer.

“Oh…”

“It’s not that,” you chuckle softly. “I would love to take the job. And if you’re still okay with that, I’d like to move in, it would make everything just so much easier.”

You watch as his expression changes from disappointed to hopeful as he cracks a smile nodding.

“Yeah, the offer is still there. When do you think you can start?”

“How soon do you want to pull Izzy out of daycare?”

“As soon as possible. If I have to I can go in on Monday and do all the paperwork. You could move in sometime during the week maybe?”

“I have to talk to my landlord about my lease, but I’m fine with moving in during the week,” you nod smiling and you can’t help but feel excited.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you so much. I’m looking forward to working with you.”

You discuss a few more details and then you head out, thinking about how the next time you’ll be coming here, you’ll be moving in.

“If this one doesn’t go to the donate box, I’m leaving right now.”

Heather holds up a pair of denim shorts, painted in the colors of the flag of the States. She holds it pinched between her index finger and thumb as if it was something nasty and disgusting

“You know I only bought that for that stupid frat party. I never wore that anywhere else, so you can put it into the donate box.”

“Thank God!” she groans and throws the shorts into said box.

It’s Sunday evening and your place looks like a warzone, boxes taking up the place everywhere as you’re packing your life up to officially move into the Styles mansion. You agreed with Harry to bring over a good chunk of your stuff on Monday and then settle in for real on Tuesday. He is pulling Izzy out of daycare first thing on Monday and you’d stay at home with her for the first time on Wednesday. It’s been a fast paced change, but you couldn’t care less. With the amount Harry is gonna pay you, you’ll be able to save up a good chunk every month, like you always wanted to.

As you finish putting your books away you reach the shelves that contain all your photo albums. Photography has been your passion for a long time. It started as a simple hobby sometime through your freshman year in high school, but in senior year, your photos filled the yearbook and you even did the design of it too. You’ve had a few gigs since then, some weddings and pregnancy shoots and you like to sell your photos individually as well. You wouldn’t have imagined how much a simple nature photo costs.

Flipping through the one on the top, you can’t help the bitter smile on your face as you see the photos from your brother’s 14th birthday three years ago. There are tons of family pictures with you, your brother Trevor and your parents, seemingly being all happy and joyful. Things were different back then and you didn’t see anything coming.

It’s past midnight by the time you more or less finish packing, you’ve filled three big boxes with things to donate so you have significantly less stuff to move to the Styles mansion in the morning. Heather spends the night, but leaves early in the morning since she needs to go to work. The moving van you rented out arrives a little after eleven and the two guys from the moving company helps you load it with about two thirds of your stuff. Harry is at work when you arrive and Izzy is still at the daycare, Ruth is the only one at home, she helps you out even though you tell her not to break a sweat over it.

“Let me help, makes me feel needed,” she chuckles sweetly when you try to get her to stop, but she insists on bringing in some smaller bags and boxes.

You’re still unpacking when Ruth arrives back with Izzy a little after four. You hear her little feet tapping against the floor as she runs down the hallway, bursting into your future room.

“Miss Y/N! You’re here!” she cheers, throwing herself into your arms as you sit on the floor, being the perfect level for the little girl.

“I am! How was your day, little Sunshine?”

“We finger painted and I made a painting for daddy, do you want to see it?”

“Of course!”

Izzy disappears to get her backpack from Ruth who is making her some snacks in the kitchen. She soon returns with her painting, presenting it to you proudly.

“Look! This is me and this is daddy!” she points at the two human-like figures, the only thing giving away who is who is that one of them is bigger than the other one. “And then this is mommy!” she then adds, pointing at a star in the upper corner of the painting and you freeze.

In the midst of everything, you didn’t even have the time to question why Harry is a single parent. To be honest your first guess would have been divorce, but Izzy’s painting is telling you something a lot more tragic.

“It’s beautiful,” you smile at her, trying to hide your surprise at the new information. “I’m sure he’ll love it.”

Ruth makes sure Izzy is busy while you finish up unpacking and when you’re about to be done, Harry arrives home. Approaching your room even though the door is open he knocks on the doorframe, catching your attention.

“Hello, just wanted to see how things are going. Do you need help with anything? I’m sorry I couldn’t be here to help with the boxes and all…”

“Hi! Oh don’t worry about that, I had plenty of help,” you shrug smiling. “Everything is going fine, thank you.”

“Great. I did all the paperwork today, tomorrow is going to be Izzy’s last day at daycare. You’re still up to start on Wednesday, right?”

“Yeah, of course. I only have a few things left at home so I’ll be all set by tomorrow.”

“Thank you so much,” he smiles warmly. “And thank you for being so quick about everything. It means a lot to me that I can spend more time with Izzy thanks to you. I really appreciate it.”

“I should be thanking you the opportunity. I wasn’t really drowning in the job offers,” you chuckle making him smile as well. “Please let me know if you want me to change anything, I have a plan I would like to go around with Izzy’s days, but of course, your word is the most important.”

“I trust you to take good care of her during the day. The only thing I want is to have her home when I get home. Ruth couldn’t always pick her up before and I really hated to do the extra trip and pick her up from daycare instead of coming straight home to be with her.”

“Understandable. I’ll make sure to plan accordingly,” you nod smiling.

“Y/N, I want you to feel home as much as possible. This is your place just as much as it is ours now. Izzy and I go grocery shopping every Sunday, it’s kind of a father-daughter thing we do every week. We keep a list on the fridge, feel free to add whatever you need and we’ll get it.”

You can’t help the smile that stretches across your lips, because this is such a sweet thing to do, when Harry could easily afford someone to do the work for him. Yet he still uses this time to be with his daughter.

“Yeah, sure, thank you!”

“I’ll get out of your hair now. Would you like to stay for dinner?”

“Oh, no, but thank you. I still have some things to take care of before tomorrow.”

“Alright,” he nods before walking out. He leaves you thinking hard about him. You wonder what really happened to Izzy’s mom and if he is dating someone right now. A man like him is basically a dream to any woman, you doubt he is having a hard time finding a partner, but you haven’t seen any sign of another woman around the house. Guess you’ll have to wait and figure it out yourself.

The apartment is awfully empty on your last night here. When you moved in about a year ago you didn’t think you’d be moving into a mansion from here. You spend the evening cleaning out a bit so you leave the place in good condition. Your landlord was terribly nice about your early leave, you could easily agree that you’d pay for the two more weeks that’s left from the month and that would be all, no extra costs for moving out before your lease was up.

You’re cleaning off the kitchen counter when your phone starts ringing, it’s a video call from your brother.

“Hey there! What’s up?” you ask, propping up the phone on top of the microwave while you move around, doing your thing. Trevor seems to be lying in bed, a black hoodie covering his upper body.

“Hello, just wanted to see how the moving has gone today.”

Despite the ten year age gap between you and Trevor, your relationship couldn’t be better. Probably because you were old enough to see what a blessing a sibling really is when he was born.

“Everything went smoothly. I only have a few stuff to bring over, that can fit into my car tomorrow, so it’s fine.”

“Cool. How is the dude? What was his name again?”

“Harry. Harry Styles.” You see him pull his laptop to his lap and probably searches up Harry’s name before his eyes widen at the screen.

“This dude is big! He is the president of HES Records, they run some of the most popular singers these days.”

“Yeah? I was sure he is a big name judging from his mansion,” you chuckle.

“Have you looked him up yet?”

“Not really.” “Want me to read what’s here about him?”

“Sure,” you hum, continuing to clean while you listen to Trevor.

“Alright. Apparently he is thirty-one, took over the record company when he was just twenty-five because his father wanted to retire early. The number of talents working under the label has doubled since he has taken over and many of his clients have won Grammy Awards. Impressive,” he hums, scrolling down on whatever site he has just found. “He is known to be a private person, the last time he made an appearance… Oh shit…” Trevor breathes out and you turn to your phone with furrowed eyebrows.

“What?”

“Wow, this shit is heavy. It says the last time he made a public appearance was in 2017, not long before his wife was killed in a car accident.”

You freeze, feeling your stomach drop to the floor, immediately thinking back at Izzy’s painting of her family. It very much makes sense why she said the star was her mother, it must be the way Harry explained to her what happened to her mother.

“It happened in 2018, she wasn’t in the fault, a drunk driver ignored the red light and ran into her car at a crossroad. This is terrible, oh God.”

“Poor Izzy, she probably doesn’t even know what really happened.”

“Must have been hard on him, there’s not much about him since then.”

“Can’t blame him for not wanting to be in the spotlight after losing his wife.”

“Yeah.”

Trevor shows you a few pictures of him from years ago, he has always been handsome, but your favorites are the few from the times when he had long hair. He looked so different, like a whole other person, but still, he rocked it perfectly.

Then you show Trevor around in the empty apartment before loving to the couch, turning all your attention to him.

“How have things been?” you ask with a sigh. Trevor purses his lips and shrugs.

“Other than the constant screaming matches on the phone and endless fights every time dad comes over for more of his stuff? Everything is rainbows and butterflies.”

“Is it really that bad?” you scowl.

“It’s like they never run out of stuff to throw at each other, but I feel like this much couldn’t happen even in their twenty-eight years together,” he scoffs making you chuckle.

“I’m sorry you’re stuck in the middle of all that.”

“It’s like payback,” he hums and you give him a puzzled look. “You had it bad growing up for being the surprise baby, making them teen parents. Then I came at a reasonable time, they already knew the drill, but now that you’re out of the house I’m getting all the shit, having to deal with their divorce.”

“I’m really sorry, Trev,” you sigh, feeling guilty that he is all alone at home.

“It’s fine, I don’t blame you,” he shrugs. “But you could make it better if you asked your millionaire boss if I could hang out at his house sometimes.” He grins at you slyly and you roll your eyes. Of course he is already thinking about using you for his own good!

“I don’t want to push the boundaries just yet, but I’ll see what I can do.”

You talk a little more about school and what he’s been up to with his friends before ending the call. You take a shower and go to bed right away, feeling extremely worn out from all the packing you’ve done through the day.

The next day you pack the remainder of your stuff into your car and then your landlord comes over to do a checkup, though he fully trusts you took good care of the place.

“Again, thank you for your understanding, I didn’t plan to leave so early, but it just kinda came up,” you tell him, handing him over your keys.

“Don’t worry about it. I hope your new place will treat you right,” he smiles kindly at you.

You chat a little longer before you leave and head over to your new home. Once again, Ruth is the only one home and being the angel that she is, she helps you to carry your stuff up from the car before leaving to get Izzy from daycare. Since there’s not much left to unpack you finish quite fast, leaving you some extra time alone in the house. Walking around you try to learn your way around, still finding it a bit of a maze. You find Harry’s home office’s door open and after a bit of hesitation you step inside, just taking a look around. Yeah, it’s kind of a nosy thing to do, but you couldn’t help yourself.

His space is quite clear, he keeps his stuff neatly organized. Certificates and plaques are hung up on the wall, showing off his many successes in the business. There’s a huge bookcase near his desk and there you see some family photos… ones that include his late wife as well.

She was beautiful. There’s a picture of the three of them in the hospital from the day Izzy was born, Harry has an arm around his wife’s shoulders who is holding baby Izzy, both of them radiating happiness as they just become parents. Your heart breaks when you see the photo next to it, it’s just Harry and her in Paris, the Eiffel tower standing tall behind them as they are grinning widely at each other, foreheads touching. Harry has his arms wrapped around her slim figure while she is hugging his neck. They look so happy and in love, like they were always meant to be with each other. Knowing what tragedy hit them is just hard to process even for you, who never even met the woman.

You hear the front door open and Izzy is laughing at something, so you rush out before anyone could catch you snooping around.

“Hi Miss Y/N!” she chirps upon seeing you when you meet them in the living room.

“Izzy, you don’t have to call me Miss Y/N, Y/N is perfectly fine,” you smile at her, caressing her rosy cheeks.

“Okay. Ruth, can I please have some ice-cream?”

“I’m afraid we ran out of ice-cream, but I’ll put it on your grocery list,” Ruth tells her, a pout tugging on Izzy’s lips.

“How about this: I’m gonna make a delicious smoothie, that’s almost like melted ice-cream, would you like some?” you offer and her eyes brighten up immediately, nodding right away.

While Ruth puts away Izzy’s things they brought home from daycare, while the two of you move to the kitchen to make the smoothie together. You find some frozen berries in the freezer and pair them with bananas, putting them all into the blender with oatmilk, blending it all together.

“How is it?” you ask Izzy, who is sitting on top of the counter, tasting the pink smoothie that leaves a cute little mustache above her cherry lips.

“I like it!” she smiles, scrunching her nose.

“We can make it some other time then,” you smile, drinking up your portion.

Izzy is dancing around the kitchen, babbling about her last day at daycare while you clean the glasses and the blender when Harry arrives. He is wearing a baby blue suit with a crispy dress shirt underneath, looking fashionable but still business appropriate at the same time.

“Daddy!” Izzy launches towards her daddy, who catches her, throwing her into the air before holding her in his arms, joining you in the kitchen.

“Hey baby. How was your day?”

“Good, all my friends hugged me but I told them we would meet in the park.”

“That’s right, and I have the number of all your friends’ parents, we can have playdates with them whenever you want to,” he smiles before his eyes meet yours. “Hi Y/N, everything went well with the rest of your moving?”

“Yeah, I’m all set,” you smile back at him.

“That’s great. I have a few calls to make, but I’ll be done in thirty probably. Would you mind looking out for Izzy in the meanwhile?”

“Of course. She promised me to take me around her room, so we could do that, what do you say?” you ask the little girl who nods in excitement.

Harry disappears in his office and Izzy pulls you to her room, showing you just about every toy she owns. Her room is a typical girl’s room, the walls are painted a light pink color, her bedframe resembles a castle and she has a dollhouse as big as your previous bathroom. Harry clearly spoils her rotten, but what you noticed is that she is not one of those annoying bratty only children who can’t take no. She was clearly taught how to behave and always listen to the adults.

While Izzy is putting her stuffed animals away after introducing you to all of them, you spot a photo frame near her bed, decorated with macaroni. You remember when you all did that together at daycare and now you get to see the photo that ended up behind the glass.

It’s a photo of Izzy and her mother, she was just a baby and doing quick math in your head you realize it must have been not long before her accident, might even be the last picture taken of the two of them. Her mom is smiling at the camera while Izzy is sleeping in her arms peacefully. Izzy looked a lot like her when she was a baby, the bridge of her nose and her lips resembled her mother’s, though now she appears to take more after her dad with her chocolate curls and piercing green eyes.

“That’s my mommy,” she tells you when she sees you looking at the photo.

“It’s a nice picture,” you smile at her, trying your best to hide how heartbroken you feel even just looking at the photo.

“Daddy said she had to go up to the sky, but she is watching me from there,” she explains, clearly not entirely sure what it means, but you can tell she misses her. “Daddy said she is living between the stars now and that she loves me very much.” You need to fight your tears back at her words.

“I’m sure of that too,” you breathe out smiling at her.

“Izzy, do you want to help me make dinner?” Harry walks in smiling, though it disappears for a moment when he sees the two of you looking at the photo of his wife, but he is quick to control himself.

“Yes! What are we making?” she runs over to him, jumping up and down.

“Uh, chicken and veggies.”

You step away from the photo, pretending like nothing just happened. You’re dying to discuss it with Harry, hear him talk about it, but you won’t push him. If he wants to share it, he’ll come to you.

“Alright, come on then,” he smiles down at her. “Thank you for watching her, I’ll take over from here. Food will be ready in about an hour, Ruth is staying with us as well,” he informs you.

“Great, I’ll… I’ll be in my room,” you nod.

The first two weeks on the job brush past smoothly. It takes you some time to get used to your new home, but taking care of Izzy doesn’t feel like work, so you’re feeling amazing in your new job. You easily fall into a schedule with her.

The mornings are always Harry’s duty. He wakes her up around seven-thirty, makes her breakfast and dresses her for the day before he leaves around nine. Thanks to this habit of his, you’re able to sleep in until eight, leaving you plenty of time to get ready for your day with Izzy before Harry has to leave. Depending on the weather, the two of you then either take over the back yard or move to her room for some play time before her class of the day starts in the noon. Piano with Rosaline on Mondays and Wednesdays, French lesson with Lyon on Tuesdays and Fridays and then Izzy’s favorite on Thursdays, swimming class with Kitty.

Izzy loves to help in the kitchen so you usually make lunch together. Once her tummy is full she takes a nap before you sit down to learn something new every day. You’ve been teaching her the numbers and the alphabet, or some days you just talk about anything that interests her and learn at least two things she hasn’t know yet, all through games so she doesn’t even realize what you’re doing. You’re usually done by around three, leaving you time to take a visit to the park, if Harry is not planning to take her himself later that day.

You’re strictly home by four, unless it’s Tuesday when she has her dance class until five. Those days you drive her to her class, run some quick errands and pick her up. Harry usually uses his extra time in the office on these days, but he is always home by six to have dinner together with his daughter.

Once Harry is home you’re off duty, though you like to stay close, not just in case something comes up for Harry, but because you genuinely like spending time with Izzy and Harry, seeing them interacting.

Harry sometimes has to work on Saturdays as well, but just as he promised Ruth is always here to take over duty on those days, leaving you free for the whole weekend. It’s been working perfectly for you and those very few concerns you had about moving in dissolve quite fast as soon as you start working.

Though it’s been pretty clear to you before, you now one hundred percent sure that Harry is living for his daughter. She is always a priority, he doesn’t hesitate to decline any work calls he gets in the evenings if Izzy needs him, if she is a little fussy and wants her daddy’s attention or when they are in the middle of a game. He is clearly trying to keep a balance between his work and role as a father and from what you’ve seen, it seems like he is doing an amazing job in that. However you haven’t learned much else about him. He is all friendly towards you, but makes sure to keep it business casual, not quite keen on getting to know each other better as just friends, maybe.

A Friday afternoon you’re having a little tea party in the backyard with Izzy when Harry arrives home, but this time, he is not alone. Through the sliding door you spot him with a blonde guy who is talking very articulately as Harry is typing on his phone. The man looks about Harry’s age, but you can’t tell if he is a friend or a business partner, but if Harry brought him home, he is more likely to be a friend of his.

“Uncle Niall!” Izzy gasps when he spots the man through the glass and abandoning the tea party, she starts running towards the door. The man spots her and slides the door open grinning widely before she jumps into his arms.

“Little bugger! How are ya?” the man laughs, holding Izzy in a tight hug before leaning back to take a good look at her. You notice his thick Irish accent and it suits his appearance quite well. You head inside as well, in case Harry needs Izzy busy for a little longer, though he doesn’t mind having her around, kissing the top of her head before finishing up whatever he was doing on his phone, watching Niall and Izzy smiling.

“I’m having a tea party with Y/N, wanna join?” Izzy invites the man, who then looks at you for the first time, smiling widely.

“Hi, I’m Y/N, Izzy’s new nanny,” you introduce yourself, holding out a hand that he shakes, keeping Izzy in his other arm without a problem.

“Nice to meet ya, I’m Niall.”

“Y/N, Niall is an old friend of mine. He is joining us for dinner, hope you don’t mind,” Harry informs you and you find it funny how he is kind of asking for your approval when it’s his house.

“Not at all.”

“Harry has told me he hired a pair of new hands to help, but he didn’t mention it’s a stunning young woman!” Niall beams, making you blush right away.

“Ni, I would appreciate it if you didn’t try to pick up my daughter’s new nanny,” Harry warns him lightly, though there’s some firmness in his tone, not that it scares Niall in any way, he even winks at you.

“Oh come on, you can’t expect me not to flirt when you surround yourself with so many pretty women! First Ruth and now Y/N!”

You smile at him, something is telling you he wasn’t joking and he tried to flirt with Ruth as well. Harry just rolls his eyes at his friend, taking Izzy from him.

“Keep it in your pants, Niall,” Harry tells him and though it’s nothing vulgar, it catches Izzy’s attention.

“What should he keep in his pants?” she questions, making your and Harry’s eyes grow big right away. Luckily, Niall keeps his cool and takes care of the situation.

“My attitude, Sweetie. Your daddy is just jealous because I’m more handsome than he is,” he smirks at the little girl, successfully avoiding an awkward conversation about what it is that Niall should keep in his pants.

You smile at his reply, even though you are not that sure about the comparison he just made between himself and Harry.

“Izzy, do you want to continue the tea party?” you ask her and even though just a minute ago she was inviting Niall to join her, now she shakes her head no. “Alright, I’ll pack it up then.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it. We’ll do it, right Izzy? She brought it all out, she is going to be the one packing it up,” Harry reminds her and she nods.

The two of them move outside to put her little tea set back into the basket she keeps it in, leaving you and Niall alone.

“So Y/N, how did you end up here?”

“I was working at Izzy’s daycare, but they sent me away not long ago. Then Harry contacted me and offered the job which was a lifesaver, truly.”

“That’s great! Well, not that you got fired, but that you ended up here. I know it means a lot for Harry that he can spend more time with Izzy, you’re making everything a lot easier for him.” Niall walks over into the kitchen and grabs a water for himself as he leans against the counter. “I can see that he is a lot more relaxed now already.”

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

“Yeah. I know he always used to stress about picking Izzy up, or forgetting something the daycare asked for. Now he can make it all work just how he wants to, that fits him a lot more. It hasn’t been easy on him since Maggie’s death.”

This is the first time you hear anyone talk about Harry’s wife and now you just learned her name. Maggie.

“Being a single parents is never easy,” you add with a soft smile, not wanting to interrogate Niall about Maggie. It’s Harry’s place to tell you about her, if he wants to, of course.

Soon enough Izzy and Harry take over the kitchen, Niall helping them this time and you leave them alone, taking some time for yourself in your room. Later you go out to check if there’s anything you could help with, Harry asks you to set the table as he finishes up the cooking.

“So, Y/N. Tell me a little bit about yourself!” Niall asks you over dinner.

“Um, what do you want to know?” you ask, feeling a little flustered to be in the spotlight.

“I don’t know, family, friends, hobbies?”

“Well, I have a younger brother, Trevor. He is seventeen and already taller than me.”

“Oh, that seems like a big age gap.”

“Ten years, to be exact,” you nod. “He was planned, I wasn’t,” you add with a soft chuckle. “But we have a great relationship, so it’s all good. We talk almost every day.”

“I’m sure you’ll get well along with Gemma then!” Niall beams, glancing at Harry.

“Gemma is my sister,” Harry explains. “Though she is not that much older than me.”

“But you can bond over being stuck with a younger brother who outgrew you,” Niall jokes making all three of you laugh.

All through dinner you realize how different Niall is from Harry, but in a good way. While Harry is more quiet and calm, Niall is kind of all over the place, buzzing and chatting every chance he got, but the two of them make a great pair, bringing what the other doesn’t have to the table.

After dinner you attempt to leave them again, but Niall makes you stay as they open a glass of wine. Harry puts on a movie for Izzy to keep her busy, giving the three of you a chance to sit out at the terrace from where you still can keep an eye on the little girl inside.

“Alright, Y/N. When are we going on our first date then?” Niall asks out of the blue, a cocky smile tugging on his lips.

“Niall, for fuck’s sake,” Harry breathes out as you let out an awkward chuckle.

“What? I think there’s some electricity going on between us.”

“I, uhh—I don’t…”

“Please don’t turn me down!” he sighs dramatically, making you smile.

“You’ve been great company, but I’m not sure we should go out,” you tell him. He huffs in disappointment, but it’s clear he didn’t take it to his heart.

“Is it because you’re taken? I didn’t even ask, are you dating anyone? You can’t be engaged, because I don’t see any rings,” he points out, nodding towards your naked fingers, however his words make you suck on your breath.

“I’m not engaged. Not anymore,” you admit and you watch their eyes go wide at the information.

“Wait, you’ve been engaged before?” Harry asks, clearly surprised, if not shocked.

“Yeah. For about four months,” you nod, running your tongue over your lips as you reach for your wine, taking a few large gulps.

“And what did the fucker do?” Niall bluntly questions, earning a look from Harry. “What? I’m just curious what twat it takes to lose a woman like her!”

“Maybe she doesn’t want to talk about that,” Harry presses, but you shrug.

“It’s not a secret. We dated for about two years before he proposed. I said yes, started planning the wedding and everything, then found out that he had been cheating on me with his assistant for about a year. We broke up, simple as that. It’s in the past, happened a year ago.”

“That’s some next level asshole bullshit,” Niall shakes his head while Harry is just staring at you with an unreadable look before he turns his attention at his glass, still clearly deep in his thoughts and you wonder what he thinks of you now. Here is the loser who not only got cheated on, but lost her job, all of that just in one year.

Harry doesn’t react, and a moment later Izzy comes out because she is thirsty, so daddy duties call him away. Niall stays a little, but heads home soon as well.

“It was nice meeting you, Y/N. The date still stands though,” he smirks when he pulls back from the short hug he enveloped you in.

“Alright,” you chuckle, slowly getting used to his flirty act.

You was the wine glasses and head back to your room while Harry walks Niall out and then takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath. You don’t cross paths until later when you leave your room, already in your pajama pants and an oversized t-shirt to grab some water for yourself and he walks out of Izzy’s room just then, probably done with putting her to sleep.

“I’m sorry if Niall made you uncomfortable, he didn’t mean to be rude or anything,” he apologizes as the two of you walk together.

“Oh, don’t worry about it,” you chuckle softly. “It was kind of a boost to my ego, if I’m being honest.”

Harry huffs with a smile and stops at the kitchen island, his fingers tapping on his lips as you grab yourself a bottled water.

“I’m… I’m sorry about… about what you told us earlier.”

Closing the fridge you look at him, seeing that he is kind of hesitant, like he is not sure he should have spoken up, but you appreciate the thought.

“It’s alright. Just water under the bridge,” you shrug.

“I just feel bad you had to go through that.”

“It wasn’t your fault,” you chuckle softly. “It sucked, yeah. I really thought I would live happily ever after with Keith, but instead I got a lesson.”

“A lesson?”

“When we broke up I was obviously on the floor, both literal and theoretical way. I thought it was my fault, that I did something wrong and that’s why he did what he did. I even thought that I’m not worthy of being loved and being in love again. Took me time to realize that no matter what happened, I still deserve to be happy and to find someone to love and who can love me back.”

It appears that your words touch him deep, staring back at you, he just nods shortly, not replying to anything you just said. You’re not sure he is so silent because he doesn’t really understand what you just talked about or if it hit too close to home. Whatever it is, he keeps it to himself.

“Good night, Harry,” you smile at him before walking out of the kitchen and up into your room.

You’re lying in bed already when you hear him open his room’s door and then close it and suddenly he is all you can think about. The way his eyes sometimes pierce down on you, the way he taps his fingers against his lips when he is thinking hard or the proud smile that always plasters across his face whenever he is watching Izzy do basically anything. But you do see some pain in those beautiful green eyes of his and your desire to take just the smallest fracture of it away grows, even though he is not showing any sign that he is willing to share it with you.

The next morning, despite having the day off, you wake up quite early. You toss and turn, try to fall back asleep a little longer, but you just can’t. It’s a nice, warm morning and you decide to take advantage of the little balcony attached to your room. Wrapping yourself in your fluffy robe you grab the book you started reading a few days ago and sit out, enjoying the morning Sun that’s shining right at you on the balcony.

You don’t even realize for a while that you’re not the only early riser. When your eyes wander down to the big oak tree that’s near Izzy’s playground, you spot Harry doing what appears to be yoga on a green mattress, wearing nothing else, just a pair of black shorts. No shirt.

For a moment you think about going inside, feeling like you’re invading his privacy in a way, but you have the right to enjoy the morning Sun on your balcony, it’s not your fault he decided to have yoga at the exact same time. And it’s just hard not to look at his shirtless body stretching in all directions, twisting and turning as he goes through the motions, his tattooed body on full display.

It’s been clear since the moment you laid eyes on him for the first time that Harry is probably the most beautiful man you’ve ever met and that includes all your exes. Paired with his kind of mysterious charisma and the way he takes care of his daughter, he is the whole package, but you have been busy with Izzy to dwell too long on how attractive he really is. But right now, you are not working and he is very much shirtless in the backyard, teasing you with thoughts you definitely shouldn’t be thinking about when it comes to your boss.

A shaky breath leaves your mouth as you let yourself watch him just for a few more minutes before heading back inside, not wanting to get busted for being a stalker and also not wanting to see him in more positions and have even more unholy thoughts about him.

But what you don’t know is that just as you step inside, Harry catches your figure disappearing in your room, knowing well you saw him too.

Thank you for reading, please like and reblog if you enjoyed it!

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[caelestis-composition]

⭒ kaeya/reader: the wrong kind of captain ⭒

request for killshot anon: killshot anon! here's that kaeya idea i had it sounds kinda dumb now that i type it out but it can't live in my head forever: kaeya x pirate!reader. i know everyone likes pirate!kaeya but hear me out--

he jokes about inheriting his eyepatch & being a pirate by blood, right? but this is the cavalry captain; he's probably never been on a ship bigger than a rowboat in his life. so imagine him meeting actual pirates and trying to turn on the charm (pirate jokes..) like he always does but they're just 🧍‍♂️. not buying it. maybe he's in the traveler's party & accompanies them to liyue & plans to go to inazuma w/ them as well? so he's on the alcor for the trip too? just a setup idea idk. we know how he likes to boast & play around, and we also know how the alcor's crew responds to newcomers (much less one who claims to be a pirate, however jokingly, but knows nothing abt sailing). he talks a big game, but the crew sees right through it and he makes a fool of himself somehow (tries to show off but doesn't know shit abt ships? hmm). it's like the "you know, i'm something of a scientist myself" meme, kinda. the only one who isn't offended by his wildly inaccurate statements (save kazuha & beidou) is beidou's first mate (us??👀), who finds this horse boy to be quite unintentionally funny, & they wind up talking more & oops kaeya gets a crush. i'm running out of plot but i can visualize kaeya trying to impress them, only to be knocked down a peg when the ship hits a rough wave and he nearly falls to the deck (bc no sea legs) before the first mate catches him with a knowing & faintly amused smile.

anyways i know this relies a lot on my hcs of him and also i've been up for like 24 hrs so forgive me if it doesn't make much sense/is ooc,, i just thought it was a funny dynamic. you're free to write or not write something for this of course, i just had to get it out of my head dfkdsfhkjsdk

I KNOWWW THIS IS FROM HALF A YEAR AGO BUT THIS CONCEPT LIVES IN MY HEAD RENT FREE!!!!! he’s so cocky but pls he’s not gonna know jackshit cuz it’s all for show. he’s ridiculous i love him kaeya can we make out. this got kinda long congratulations ur ideas r always banger /gen i stayed up til 2am writing this

⭒

pairing: kaeya/reader

characters: kaeya alberich; mentioned traveler, paimon, beidou, kazuha

genre: fluff

word count: 1795

⭒

This isn’t the first time you’ve seen the Traveler and Paimon, but the blue-haired fellow next to them is new. You weren’t expecting more than the two extras aboard the Alcor for the trip to Inazuma, but you suppose it’s nothing strange. The closed nation isn’t exactly friendly—and this unfamiliar companion seems like he’ll be useful, if the cryo Vision at his hip means anything. You’re sure you’ll find out soon enough. You huff to yourself, tearing your eyes away from where Beidou is—across the deck—speaking to the newcomers. Your attention turns toward the ship’s bow, staring absentmindedly out at the horizon as you cross your arms and lean back against the railing behind you.

Your moment of peace doesn’t last long as you spot a flash of blue approaching out of the corner of your eye.

“Captain Kaeya.” Your head turns to face forward again, where the blue-haired man—Kaeya, apparently—stands. He’s extended a gloved hand, which you do nothing more than glance at.

You raise an eyebrow. “You some sort of fleet captain?” You ask, and he grins.

“Sure,” Kaeya says. “My grandfather was a pirate, too.”

“Was he now?”

He hums.

“Who else do you think I inherited my eyepatch from?”

He can’t be serious. You’re not even sure how to respond to that, staring dumbfounded—and frankly astonished—at the man before you. His uncovered azure eye sparkles, and you think there’s no way this isn’t a joke.

But he doesn’t say anything more, doesn’t burst out laughing or knock you on the shoulder or say “gotcha!” No, he just winks—or maybe blinks, you’re not sure—turns on his heel, and strides back over to the Traveler.

You initially thought he’d fit in well. Maybe Kaeya wasn’t lying; you’d say he certainly looks the part, albeit a little more extravagant than you’d expect from someone who spends their days getting tossed around on the seas. He gets along with the crew, and Captain Beidou seems to like him. Certain members have their doubts, and you’re not alone in thinking he’s lying. Despite this, you’d say he’s fun to be around—charismatic and witty as he is. Although he claims to know the ins and outs of a seafaring vessel such as the Alcor, he’s all too eager to spend the days before you all head out trailing behind various members of the crew, paying a little too much attention as they work.

More often than not Kaeya’s shadowing you. Archons forbid you ask him to assist you, he’ll put his hands up helplessly, throwing on a pout as he tells you how he’d love to, but you’re just so much better than him at whatever you’re doing. Every time. You asked him once, perhaps a little sharply, how he manages to command his own alleged crew if he won’t help with even the simplest tasks.

“Now, now,” he’d responded. “You said it yourself: commanding, not doing.” As if Beidou doesn’t do just as much—if not more—than her crew combined. But you’d bit your tongue and let him get away with it.

The act ends the first day out on the open sea, when a particularly large wave sends the blue-haired “Captain” stumbling in front of everyone, nearly crashing face-first into the deck… had you not been there to catch him.

There’s a burst of giggles and sneering, though it passes quickly as Beidou hollers for everyone to get back to work.

It takes you a second to realize you still have your arms wrapped around Kaeya, his face tucked under your chin, his hands hovering somewhere behind your back as if he’s not sure if he should touch you. Clearing your throat, you straighten up, dragging him with you. You hold him at arm’s length by the shoulders, ensuring he won’t just fall back over.

Aside from a few unkempt hairs—which Kaeya fixes by running a hand through—a stunned expression, and you swear a slight flush to his cheeks, he seems unharmed. “You okay?” You check, and he nods.

“All thanks to you, dove.” And he does that thing again, where you think he winks, but he could just be blinking. You’re not sure you want to think about why you feel like he winks at you all the time. Instead, you sigh, grateful he seems to be back to his normal self.

“It was nothing,” you say, brushing past him to get back to your actual job. But you can’t resist teasing, pausing to glance back at him as you allow a smile to creep onto your face. “Captain.”

You swear you hear him snort, and Gods does the sound make you awfully giddy.

Kaeya finds himself alone more often aboard the Alcor as the days stretch on. He understands the crew’s misgivings, and doesn’t necessarily mind that the only people who will still talk to him are the Traveler, Paimon, Beidou, and that Inazuman samurai, Kazuha.

Oh, and you.

He’s sure it’s mostly out of pity, but he likes when you talk to him. He likes when you sit next to him at mealtimes, or invite him to accompany you throughout the day—you show him how to actually work a ship; maybe one day the pirate thing won’t be a joke—or, like now, when you find him at night, gazing out to where the dark, star-speckled sky meets an even darker sea.

Kaeya’s not sure what makes you stay, but he’s not complaining. He could listen to you talk for hours, and he would embarrass himself again and again if it meant he could hear you laugh and see you smile. He’s lucky he doesn’t have to humiliate himself; you find yourself smiling regardless when you’re with him.

“It’s Cavalry Captain Kaeya?” He jolts as you whack his shoulder, but he knows you’re not angry.

“I was telling the truth when I introduced myself as Captain Kaeya,” He states, almost matter-of-factly.

You roll your eyes, giving him a playfully exasperated shake of your head. “You still lied to me.” Kaeya snickers and tilts his head toward you.

“You’ve only just figured that out? How smart,” He croons, and you whack him again.

You like this; just you and Kaeya—Mondstadt’s Cavalry Captain—above deck, everyone else below in their quarters winding down for the night. Aside from your voices, the only sounds are the wind and the waves against the hull of the ship. He’s not a bad guy, you’ve found, though you never really suspected so to begin with. His lies are moreso jokes that sometimes go a little overboard—his exact wording. There was never malicious intent, Kaeya just enjoys getting reactions out of people.

Two can play at that game.

“Still, horseboy—” He parrots the nickname back at you, appalled, and you struggle to shush him as you break into a fit of giggles, “—I’m surprised a wave was all it took to knock you over.”

“Riding horseback is a lot different than staying steady on a violently rocking ship,” Kaeya hisses, eye narrowing. “I’d like to see you even mount a horse without falling off.”

“You’re just mad you don’t have a decent set of sealegs, rookie.” He doesn’t seem to have anything more to say, and a comfortable silence falls over the two of you as you turn back to the ocean.

It’s weird to think that in a few days’ time, you’ll have to say goodbye to the man beside you. The thought makes you queasy, twisting your insides tighter the more you think about it. It’s strange, really. You just met him, and you already don’t want him to go. And he’s going to Inazuma, of all places. You know the Traveler’s plenty strong to protect themself and those around them, and Kaeya’s a Knights of Favonius Captain, but you can’t help worrying. The Electro Archon has been unforgiving to her own subjects for two years, you can only imagine how she’ll treat outsiders—ones that snuck into her nation, no less.

You shiver, from your thoughts and the breeze and the ocean spray that hits you as the ship rocks. Kaeya watches as you frown.

There’s a rustling beside you that you barely register, and then there’s a weight around your shoulders. It startles you out of your thinking, and you realize Kaeya’s dropped his scarf onto you.

“You seemed cold,” he hums, flashing you a genuine, gentle smile. You swallow harshly.

“Yeah.” You nod, nuzzling into the fur. It smells like him, and it only wrenches your heart more.

Because you love him, you realize.

Maybe he’s a pirate after all. But of the worst kind, you think, because all he’s stolen is your heart. And there’s no way he’s giving it back.

“You’ll be safe, right?” You ask. Your question seems to surprise him, if the widening of his eye means anything.

“Of course,” he purrs. “Why? Are you worried about—” He stops when his gaze meets yours, over the fur of his scarf. Kaeya’s face softens, and he steps closer, taking one of your hands in both of his. “Darling, you’ve nothing to worry about.” Raising your hand to his lips, Kaeya’s eye stays locked with yours. “We’ll be careful.” He places another kiss, feather-light, on your forearm. “I’ll be careful.” Tugging your arm—and consequently, you—closer to him, his lips hit your forehead. “I promise.” He’s so close, his chest almost brushes against yours as he breathes. In and out, again and again. You feel the puff of his breath against your cheeks, his face inches away from yours. You wait for him to move, heart thundering wildly, but he doesn’t.

“You really promise?” You ask, breathless.

Kaeya nods. “I do.” And then he kisses you, lips connecting with yours as your eyes flutter shut. His hands move upward to cup your face, thumbs stroking your cheeks—which are burning at this point. As he sighs against you, you toss your arms around his shoulders, attempting to pull him even closer to you.

By the time you separate, you’re both panting. Kaeya takes a step back so he can look you in the eyes better, and your stomach drops when you see the twinkle in his gaze and the smirk gracing his lips.

“Pirate’s oath,” he says, touching a hand to his heart dramatically.

You shout, and the man has the audacity to laugh after ruining the moment with his ridiculousness. You shove him, and he stumbles backward. Kaeya makes sure to grab the collar of your shirt as he falls to the deck—no, you had not pushed him that hard—pulling you down with him before locking his arms around you.

You can feel his grin as he buries his face in the back of your neck, and despite your struggling, you find yourself laughing along with him.