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austarus · 3 years

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Harry Wells x Reader - Period Gossips

*A/N: The picture/edit/gif does not belong to me. It belongs to its rightful owner.

**Please don’t forget to comment, like, and reblog. It means a lot to content creators of all kinds!

***I’d also like to thank @grimtamlain-writes for being my beta reader.

Word Count: 4962

MASTERLIST

Harry grunted as the gates to his home creaked open. The rain cascaded gently onto the earth hitting his windshield. The scientist slowed the car into the driveway in order to park it in the garage. He quelled the irritation from earlier; Jesse’s accursed team were giving him issues again regarding his mysterious disappearance and sudden reappearance. Those fuckers really need to understand that it’s not their business. He needed to fix himself a drink once he got inside – he was just ready to crash. Harry checked his phone once more as he turned off the engine, the garage door shut securely. He had texted Jesse earlier about what she’d want for dinner, but she hadn’t responded. Cheese and potato perogies it is then with spiced cubed chicken. I should make some rice and a side of sautéed garlic parmesan veggies. A sigh left his lips as exhaustion continued to seep through his bones. The Earth-2 doppelganger ran a hand over the back of his neck before shutting his eyes and tilting it to the side. A cracking sound echoed in the car. Relief washed over him. Taking a step out of the car, Harry gathered the documents and folders into his bag then threw it over his shoulder. I have that Syberon presentation to attend and speak at too. The presentation shouldn’t take too long to put together. Shutting the car door, the Wells doppelganger whistled a tune while twirling his keys in the other hand. Harry opened the garage door into his home and soon the tune died slowly at the sounds of pained singing.

“My period cramps are killing me, and I~ I must confess I’m still hungry.”

“So hungry~,” he heard his daughter's voice following yours at a different pitch. Harry had stopped dead in his tracks as panic started to set in that he didn’t even shut the door. He just held onto the doorknob. Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit. Your period schedule had synced with Jesse’s… and he had forgotten about date night. He’d been so busy right when he had gone back. Portfolios to approve, incompetent staff to fire, financial meetings to attend. One problem at a time, Harrison. I have enough pads and tampons, right? I… I’m pretty sure I remembered to restock a week ago. Harry pulled out his phone to check his calendar, he’s made it his duty to mark your period dates when you’re on your placebo week just in case. He kept track of Jesse’s too even if she sorta scolded him for it since she’s a capable young woman that can take care of herself, especially with speedster powers. Fuck, I think I ran out of chocolate. God…

“My heating pad isn’t helping me, but at least~ I’m not having a baby~.”

“Oh~”

Tiptoeing out of the house, Harry made a beeline to his car and threw his bag into the backseat once more. The scientist seat belted himself and made quick work of getting out of the driveway to head to the supermarket. He had a mission to complete – one that included him not getting the brunt of shark week by his daughter and fiancé. The dark-haired man sighed mentally preparing a list of snacks that he needs to buy for you and Jesse. At least we have enough pain medication to last the next century. Parking the car, Harry sent you a text he’d be late coming home to pick up a few items. You sent him and ‘ok’ with a kissy face emoji. The war veteran smiled to himself as he pocketed his phone and threaded his fingers through his slightly wet hair. Harry started heading towards the aisles with the mental list of snacks in mind.

“She did that?” You raised an eyebrow at her, massaging your hand over the heating pad that laid on your lower abdomen. The pain was starting to dissipate. You really had cursed your uterus for dropping the period now of all times just as you had jumped through the breach for your sleepover date. Luckily for you, you weren’t alone. Jesse had gotten hers a few hours earlier. Both your uteruses really said ‘YOU WANNA FEEL PAIN?’. There’s just something about sharing your period days with someone else that makes it better and at the same time worse. I swear, since finding out about Jesse’s cycle this time it feels like my uterus is punishing me extra hard.

Jesse nodded from where she was reclined on the corner side of the L-shaped couch. The speedster had her father’s stress ball in hand giving it a squeeze every so often. She had her own heating pad on her stomach. “Yeah, like it’s not that hard to do your job. She’s always making excuses and lying about her situation to get out of stuff.” An empty bag of Doritos was on the coffee table along with dark chocolate blueberries and almonds. You two had practically inhaled the three bags a few hours earlier.

“I’m sorry, but she needs to go.”

“Our preceptor just keeps turning a blind eye to those things. If anyone else were to do it, they’d be grilled for sure, even taken out of the program. And don’t get me started on how Gus is making his entire life about his boyfriend.”

“Oh no, I feel a storm coming. Lemme guess, boyfriend is number one priority over everyone and everything else?”

“Yes! Like they just started dating. They haven’t been together for a full year and he’s laying his heart down for him. He doesn’t even see the red flags Dakota and I see.”

“What red flags?”

“Ok, so when they first started talking Wylan was supposed to pick Gus up for their date. Wylan ended up being two hours late and had not said a single word to Gus on where he was or if things got canceled. Nothing.” You nodded as she continued, the sound of rain hitting the home harder. It was storming outside, lighting flickering here and there. Briefly checking your phone, you wondered where Harry was and if he was okay out in this weather. “I told him not to go on that date when I was on the phone with him and Wylan ended up calling Gus when I was on the line, so naturally Gus picked it up, ok?”

“Yeah? As one naturally does.”

“Gus called me back and was like ‘I’m going with him’. Bitch, I just told you not to. He made no effort to communicate what was going on and where he was and why he was late. The second red flag drove me over the edge.” Your ears perked up at the sound of the door groaning at the hinges, a signal to it being opened. Your heart jumped in your chest as you waited in anticipation. Jesse grinned slyly as she saw the cheery smile perk up on your face.

“Did he end up telling Dakota what happened?”

“No, because he knows Dakota would confront him about shit. I end up telling Dakota because they have a right to know. We just end up keeping things on the downlow.” Jesse sighed, languidly getting up and using her powers to clean up the little area you and she have made residence in before her father can see. While Harry was prone to having a messy lab, it was work and tech – not junk and trash everywhere. “Wylan is rich because of his daddy’s money, not hard-earned money that he’s made for himself, and he has these… conservative-ish ideals.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, that… Gus and I were talking about tattoos and piercings on Facetime and Wylan told Gus that he shouldn’t get any tattoos or piercings. First of all, Wylan is not Gus. Gus is free to do as he so pleases with his body. If he wants to get a tattoo, Wylan shouldn’t have a final say in regards to what Gus should and shouldn’t do.” Jesse ran a hand through her hair in irritation, the idea of Wylan seemed to just rile her up so much because she’s just looking out for her best friend who can’t see the signs and flags regarding Wylan. “He can put out his opinion and Gus can consider it, but in the end it is Gus’ life. Not Wylan’s. If Wylan doesn’t want those two things for himself, then by all means, go for it. But don’t enforce your views on someone you had just started dating.”

“I’ve brought peace offerings,” your fiancé had walked in with a couple of bags, his suit slightly damp and his hair a mess more than usual. Setting the bags on the coffee table, Harry kissed the top of his daughter’s head before giving you a sweet and needy kiss. After a long day, he really missed you. Your heart swelled in your chest when you took a peek to see the snacks in the bag. Jesse was already opening a bag of her favorite chips. You knew that he kept a vigilant track of your period, especially since the two of you don’t want an ‘oopsie baby’. Maybe not this soon. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Gus is apparently living in a fantasy world where he and Wylan 100% workout even though there are a good number of red flags that exist in their few months of dating,” you clarified to the scientist, who only ended up frowning. Jesse sipped on her cranberry juice and gauged her father’s response.

“Gus is smarter than that. A shame, I liked him and valued not only his thinking skills, but his ability to execute the work he’s thrown himself in.” Your fiancé had sat down beside you. The worn-out feeling began to set in his body, especially his legs. Harry unbuttoned a few buttons on his formal white long sleeve. You scooted closer to Harry with the intent on cuddling beside him and resting your head on his chest. His heartbeat felt strong. “Gus deserves a better man.”

“I guess love and money blind?” Your statement sounded more like a question as you glanced at Jesse. The speedster tiredly exhaled; you could tell that there was still more to the story. “Gus’ been too invested with Wylan to really take a step back and see reality for what it is. Instead, from what Jesse’s been telling me he’s been using all his time just for Gus. So essentially neglecting all other relationships that are permanent in his life like friends and family and commitments to work and such.”

Harry could only shrug at your words as he took his suit jacket off to drape over a chair. “Hungry?”

“Yes.”

“Is that even a question, dad?”

A chuckle fell from his lips, “Let me get changed and we can start on dinner? I’m assuming due to (Y/N) being here that you didn’t see my text?” The dark-haired scientist cocked an eyebrow at his daughter who then proceeded to frown a bit before checking her phone. The young speedster made an ‘o’ shape with her mouth then shifted her gaze to her dad as she sent him a sheepish smile. “I was thinking of chicken and perogies with rice and veggies.”

“And garlic bread,” you added; by now you know that Jesse loved her garlic bread just as much as you do.

The three of you got started on dinner once Harry had returned all clean in his pajamas and after a shower. You resisted the urge to pull him down for a kiss. There would be more time for that later. Jesse was in charge of assembling the perogies from scratch while you heated up the garlic bread and started up on adding spices to the chicken cubes Harry had cut. You added mustard to let the chicken tenderize even more, a trick your mother had taught you. Your fiancé worked away on the rice while pulling out the veggies and the cutting board.

“Wanna hear something funny?” You quirked a sly look to Jesse, who began filling the dough with mashed potatoes and cheese bits.

“Sure?”

“I got Barry and Cisco the period simulator.”

Jesse gasped, her eyes twinkling in amusement as a grin crossed her face while you smirked. “You didn’t.”

“I did. Cisco started tearing up at level 3 while Barry held on until he broke at level 4. We didn’t even set them on the levels Iris and Kamila feel on their monthly basis. They doubled down in pain and everything. So much for egos.”

“You should do that to dad if he pisses you off,” Jesse snickered with a smirk.

Harry felt himself start to sweat at his daughter’s comment, waiting for your response. “I don’t think I’d do that to your dad. He’s never pushed me to that point.”

“Aw…”

Let’s just say, Harry was very relieved at your answer. He, of all people, knew that a woman’s pain was something no man could not even begin to fathom. Hell hath no fury than a woman scorned. After dinner the three of you cleaned up, Jesse put the food away while Harry loaded the dishwasher. You helped Jesse with organizing the fridge so that everything fit perfectly in place and that the leftover food can be eaten in a timely manner. Although, you knew that Harry still needed to be reminded to eat something other than Big Belly Burger.

“I,” Jesse started while pulling out some chocolate and fruit, “have a date with a special someone and that someone is Netflix. If you need me, I’ll be hiding in my room.” She sent you and her dad a wink, knowing that being in the house wouldn’t be so bad since nothing can really happen. And with that, the young speedster channeled her powers to speed up to her room leaving the aftermath of her colored lightning and excess wind in her wake. Jesse had wanted to tell you more but knew that she’d have time to get your opinion later. You’re to be here for two weeks before heading back to Earth-1 and dealing with the havoc Team Flash finds themselves in. Checking over her phone, Jesse found that she had gotten a text from Dakota and another from Gus. The speedster rolled her eyes a bit before reading the message.

A sigh left Harry; his shoulders sagged a bit. You frowned, setting the towel down in its respective spot on the arm of the oven. “What’s wrong?” You asked as you came up from behind and hugged him. The scientist set the dishwasher to the appropriate setting for the next hour or so. His arms dropped to his side.

“Hm? Nothing, just… time really has flown. It was just yesterday that I was watching her walk and play with the periodic table. Now she’s almost done with her Ph.D programs while being the hero the city depends on.”

“That’s not necessarily a bad thing, Harry.”

“I know, I’m proud of her and everything. I- with everything that’s happened,” the Wells doppelganger turned slowly in your arms, his own limbs encasing you, “I just wish I had realized to value the time I had with her much earlier in her life. Crisis after crisis, Zoom and Savitar and Devoe, being trapped with the others – I feel like I missed out. I shouldn’t have taken my family for granted.” His grip tightened as he pulled you close. Rubbing his back, you knew what he meant; you and Team Flash and Jesse were all he had left. Oddly enough, he also had HR and Sherloque and Nash, even if to him they annoyed the hell out of the Earth-2 CEO.

I shouldn’t have taken you for granted.

“You’re not taking anything for granted, Harry. Things unfold and we learn, we grow. That’s a part of life,” you whispered, cupping his face and running your thumb over his cheek. “I’m proud of you and I’ll always be by your side, my love. We managed to make things work, to make things right. We’ll be ok.” I love you, Harry. Harry closed his eyes and nodded; his hand had come up to hold yours that lay on his cheek. The words that came from you meant the world to him. You meant the world to him. You and Jesse. Even after all this time, Harry still found himself stumbling over his words when it comes to his feelings for you. One would think after all the events that have happened over the years that it would get easier. “Are you going to be working on some papers today?”

“The proposals and research theses never cease to amaze me. Syberon wants me to speak at their presentation next week. Mayor Snart will be there and everything. Do you want to…?”

You gave him a small smile before leaning up and kissing his nose in response. “I’d love to be your plus one.” Harry gave you that toothy grin of his as he took both your hands in his. My workaholic man. “You know where to find me then.” You two parted, you headed upstairs where your overnight bag was while Harry made his way to his office with his own dreadful load.

A gentle sigh left your lips as you headed in for a shower with a change of clothes and necessities. You tend to take one every day when on your period, sometimes twice a day depending on your flow for the week. Not to lie, but you were jealous that Harry’s bathroom was connected to his bedroom, an aspect you’ve always wanted for your apartment yet sadly cannot afford. Making a mental note to grab the heating pad from downstairs, you turned the knob for the shower to the hottest setting then stripped of your clothes. Steam gradually filled the bathroom. Stepping in, you made a noise of relief as the water hit you – warming your chilled body significantly. This is the stuff. You stood there relishing in the ‘liquid lava’ as the boys put it when you and the girls talked about hot showers. Grabbing your body scrub and scrub brush you got right to work washing out all the blood and gunk. I technically could be an expert to getting away with murder with how much I know on getting rid of blood stains because of my period.

***

Hours passed when Harry finally glanced at his watch. It was a bit past midnight when he finished reviewing the proposals and financial papers. The presentation was the first thing he tackled before starting on the paperwork for the coming deadlines at the end of the month. The scientist normally prioritized tasks with a closer deadline. A yawn made its way out of his lips, causing him to crack his neck. Harry set his glasses down on his desk and rubbed his tired eyes. He was technically on-call tomorrow should any issue arise at the Labs for the weekend. While Harry did advocate for only the best scientists to work at his facility and to exhibit prominent results with the projects, he was not a tyrant in running his staff to their bones. Instead, he encouraged rest days to the others so long as the deadlines are met in a timely fashion. If individuals felt that they needed to stay longer than they were welcome to.

Harry ran a hand through his chaotic dark mess of hair before deciding that he was done for the night and headed upstairs to you. On his way up, the genius stopped in the kitchen for a bottle of wine and two glasses. Transitioning the three items to one hand expertly, Harry knocked on his bedroom door before cracking it open. Only the soft light filtered by the lamp beside you on the counter illuminated the room to a gentle and dim tone. It didn’t overstimulate the eyes so much. His expression softened when he found you under the covers on his bed with your iPad, most likely reading a new smutty fantasy book. Yes, he knew about those. Something about faeries and courts and magic. Beside you was a bowl of assorted berries as you sat with your knees bent and feet pressed down on the bed. A few pillows reclined your back as you read on. When Harry fully entered the room, that was when you finally looked up. Harry swore that your cheery smile brightened up the room. Setting your iPad against your knees, you patted the seat next to you excitedly to which your fiancé only chuckled and shut the door with his foot. Coming around to sit beside you, Harry handed you the glass then sat his own on the table to pour the wine in your cup first. You pressed one hand on the heating pad as you took a good sip from the glass. An ‘mm’ noise fell from you as you licked your lips from the wine.

“I bought this one with you in mind,” your man cocked a teasing eyebrow at you as he poured himself one. He didn’t mind sweet wine, honestly. Harry preferred the sting of bourbon or champagne, but wine was fine.

“You didn’t have to.”

“But I wanted to,” you pouted a bit at him, spoiling you to which he leaned over to kiss your puffed out lower lip. You couldn’t help but kiss him back, especially when he bit down on your lip.

“Any word from Earth-1?”

“Well, other than the fact that Cisco’s been keeping me busy with trying to decipher Thawne’s work for Barry’s artificial Speedforce, nothing’s been happening. A new meta called ‘Godspeed’ has been… sending mindless imposters.”

“Don’t tell me this is the same thing with Zoom.”

“I think it is, but in this case Barry doesn’t have much speed to have siphoned off of him hence Cisco and some guy named Chuck working around the clock.”

“It’s Chester.”

“What?”

“His name is Chester not Chuck.”

You watched Harry just shrug nonchalantly. “Nash is still being an asshole as he figures out what to do with his epiphany to make his penance with Maya and her doppelganger. Ah, I forgot to mention,” Harry went over to his closet to pull out a colored bag, gift paper shoved inside of it. “Sherloque dropped this off for you, a gift from Earth-221 knowing your fondness of books. He told me not to look inside and that it was just a book of your interest.”

“Aw, that’s sweet of him. I hope all things are going well.”

“They are,” Harry didn’t know if he should mention to you that Sherloque had stumbled upon your doppelganger on his Earth and roped her into being his own Watson in his crime-solving adventures through the multiverse. Probably leave that for him to explain. “Are you still reading that book about fire and gold?”

“It’s called ‘A Court of Silver Flames’,” you retorted, pulling out Sherloque’s gift with a giddy look. The title read ‘Neon Gods’ and as you read the summary you could feel yourself paling and the temperature dropping. HOW THE FUCK DID HE KNOW THAT I READ SMUT???? THAT COCKY ASS BASTARD. HE’S 100% EXPOSING ME TO MY MANS.

“Why do you look like that?”

“Look like what?” You tried to hide the book from him which caused Harry to smirk wolfishly, his eyes narrowing in delight.

“Like you’ve seen a ghost. What’s the book about?”

“Nothing!”

The war veteran raised a damned questioning eyebrow at you. You turned your head away to avoid his gaze. “That was too quick of a response, even for you.” Harry scooted ever closer to see what the book was about to which you ended up chucking it across the room in panic. You sent a silent apology to the book as it hit the wall and fell to the ground. A second or two passed between you and Harry before the two of you scrabbled for it. To your surprise you had gotten to it first due to your fiancé slipping on the blanket that had been tossed to the side. However, your victory ended when strong arms grabbed a hold of you, flinging you onto the bed. Clutching the book to your chest, the dark-haired genius crawled on top of you and started attacking your sides to have you let go. You lasted a good minute before you were fidgeting under him with laughter and tears in your eyes, your grip loosening.

“Aha!” Harry grabbed the book and rolled off you. His eyes skimmed the summary side of the book to which his cheeks reddened slightly. Another smut book. I’m not surprised.

Taking a breath to calm down, you collected yourself. “It’s not what you think!”

“Uh huh,” Harry walked over and handed you your book with that playful look in his eyes. You took it and hid it under the covers as if it’d erase what he had just read. “You do know that I know, right?”

“Know what?” Maybe if I play dumb, he won’t keep asking.

“That plot-involving smut is one of your favorite sub-genres.”

“…”

“You don’t have to hide it. My fiancé’s just into some kinky stuff, not like we haven’t done anything kinky before.”

“Yeah, well…” You nibbled on your bottom lip in embarrassment. Harry just wiggled his eyebrows at you while the blood rushed to your cheeks. This cheeky bastard. “Just cuddle me, I think that little active moment may have cost me my uterus’ well-being.” The scientist grinned eagerly before pulling you close for cuddles with his long arms. He tucked your head close to his as you ran your free fingers over his clothed bicep then his exposed collarbone. The things I let this man do to me. His body warmed you while giving you multiple kisses on your face and neck, each one you reciprocated as the two of you snuck under the covers for the night. “Harry?”

“Hm?”

“I think I might need to go back to Earth-1 in a few days or so.”

“Why?”

“Well,” you tilted your head back to look at him, his eyes were half-lidded. “I don’t have a dress with me for the Syberon event.”

“I’ll buy you one, it’s not an issue.”

“No, no, you’ve been spoiling me enough. I have a few cocktail dresses back in my apartment that should make due. I have worn them since the times at STAR Labs before the Particle Accelerator exploded.”

“That should be appropriate enough. Just remember to wear heels that won’t kill you. Remember last time?” You pouted at his teasing smirk, his finger poking your cheek then nose. Harry had to carry you to the carry on his back last time because you couldn’t take another step when the night was finally over at one of the lavish gala’s he had invited you to.

“Hey, that was a one-time mistake. I didn’t know you were going to want to stay that long anyway.” It wasn’t really his scene, after all.

“Yes, however, I needed to secure some deals while also making sure no one was trying to defame me for being MIA so much. The other CEO scientists in the city should know that by know.”

“I’m assuming there are still those trying to test you?” You threaded your fingers through his silky, dark hair. Harry smiled slightly as he leaned his head down more for you. He loved it when you played with his hair like that. Just carding your fingers through.

“Sadly, the Haegorski triplets are trying to tip the balance in the city - calling for Snart to complete denounce STAR Labs for the havoc and meta collateral damage for my own Particle Accelerator. They believe that my labs is still dangerous, that I’m trying to cover up for something else that can endanger more lives.”

“But you having been doing everything in your power to make amends for the city. Hell, Jesse’s the Flash of this earth. She’s being doing so much good for the city. You don’t really need to prove anything more to them, I’m sure Leonard knows that.” You weren’t going to lie and say that it didn’t freak you out a bit that Captain Cold’s doppelganger was a decent mayor on this earth.

“It was still me a the center of the Dark Matter leaking into our world. It was still I who had accidentally allowed Zoom to be born and haunt the city. You can’t stop the harrowing idea of negativity. One illegitimate deed outweighs the good an individual does. With my labs out of the way, only the most prominent of scientists will head there to have their innovative work funded.”

“So what will you do?”

“What I do best.” Harry all but winked at you. You rolled your eyes at the dark-haired genius.

“And that is?”

“By showing them that I’m a force to be reckoned with.”

“Uh huh, well while you do that, I’m going to go to the bathroom and clean the crime scene happening between my legs.” Your fiancé all but threw his head back at your statement as you got off the bed to go to the bathroom for a clean up.

Returning to bed you and Harry continued your conversations, this time regarding Eva and Godspeed along with how exactly Cisco plans to get Barry his speed back. At some point during your whispered conversations with Harry while cuddling you both passed out as the night carried on. The exhaustion from today had taken you and Harry out like a light as the moon glimmered in the night sky. You two slept soundly in each other's arms, the beating of your hearts falling into a steady rhythm together.

#harrison wells x reader #harrison wells #earth-2 Harrison Wells X reader #harrison wells imagines #harrison wells imagine #harry wells x reader #harry wells #harry wells imagine #harrison wells fanfiction #The Flash #the flash cw #the flash fanfiction #jesse wells #Jesse Quick

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watchyourbluesturngolden · 3 years

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you are my home

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

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

warnings: angst, relationship struggles, arguments

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

"Just an eighth of a cup?"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Three minutes?" He practically whined.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You hummed questioningly, stirring the sauce.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

Eventually, you decided to just go for it.

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

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

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

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

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

"Really?" His face lit up.

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

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

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

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

"We?"

He nodded, seeming confused by your questioning tone.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Two weeks is so long," he sighed.

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

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

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

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

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

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

You smiled, shaking your head.

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

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

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

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

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

"I guess," you agreed with a smile.

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

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

"Okay. Love you!"

"Love you too."

-----

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

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

"Do you have everything packed?" He asked.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

"I missed you," he murmured.

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

"Yeah," he grinned. "Home."

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Harry Styles spotted with NEWEST GIRLFRIEND"

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You nodded. “I’m sorry.”

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

He nodded. “What all do we need?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re so annoying.”

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

-----

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

“Why do we need those?”

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

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

“Aisle 17,” he answered immediately.

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

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

“Wow, you're so helpful.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

“Insulin?”

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Oh, I’m distracting?”

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

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

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

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

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

“You are? Why didn’t you tell me?”

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

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

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

He groaned, flopping his head back into the pillows.

-----

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

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

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

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

“No,” all three of you said at once.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Everything she does is cute,” Mitch argued.

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"DID SHE MOVE IN?”“

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

He clicked on one of the articles.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Does Y/N know?”

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

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

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

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

Harry shook his head.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“So have I!”

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

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

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

“Well what am I supposed to do?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

That is, until it all boiled over one day.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What sacrifices? You don’t-”

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

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

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

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

“Why is it worse for you, Harry?”

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

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

“That’s not what I meant-”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Where are you going?” He called.

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

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

“Packing,” you said shortly.

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

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

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

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

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

“What?” His face fell.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

-----

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

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

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

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

Had he just lost the love of his life?

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

-----

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

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

Then he sent a quick text.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

#harry styles #harry styles/reader #harry styles/you #harry styles/reader fanfiction #harry styles/you fanfiction #harry styles x reader #harry styles x reader fanfiction #harry styles x y/n #harry styles x you #harry styles x you fanfiction #one direction fanfiction #fanfiction #one direction

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tastesoftamriel · 3 years

Text

I was asked about what dishes you should never offer to Daedric Princes by a follower who's probably a little too curious for their own good. Here's an interesting question I certainly have not thought of, because I generally try not to invoke the wrath of Daedric Princes! However, if you really want to potentially bring the punishment of Oblivion down upon yourself, please feel free to try the following...

Mehrunes Dagon

Instead of fiery destruction, I propose something...cute. A classic chilled custard tart topped with warm berry compote and some Hammerfell-style rose-and-vanilla pashmak is bound to melt hearts, just not in the way one of his Dremora would.

Peryite

I love making healthy foods just as much as indulgent dishes, and as the popular adage goes, an apple a day keeps Peryite away! A classic rucola and feta salad with a balsamic and Cyrodiilic olive oil can be made even better with an extra handful of spinach, a sprinkle of fresh pomegranate, halved walnuts, avocado and cucumber slices, and a few diced apple pieces! Simply delectable, and sure to keep scurvy and pestilence at bay.

Molag Bal

What should you not offer the Daedric Prince of domination and creator of vampires? Probably a soft, delicate vegetarian dish. A Breton vegetable quiche with an all-butter crust, goose eggs, sun-dried tomatoes, delicate baby spinach, fresh chanterelle mushrooms, squash, lots of garlic, and a spot of chevre. Mouth-wateringly good, this little beauty makes for an excellent meal at any time of day, and is bound to make Molag Bal sneer.

Namira

I'm going to be a little cheeky here and turn something gross and creepy into something delicious that even the fussiest nobles I've served love: garlic butter snails. Namira's followers are known to chow down on live, raw snails, shells and all, but I prefer mine with a garlicky gratin and a sprinkle of cave-aged West Weald parmesan. Oh, and don't forget to eat them with a fancy silver snail fork like a proper diva!

Boethiah

Plots? Destruction? Snakes? Not with this dish! What you see is what you get with a traditional Nord bread-and-butter pudding! It's a great way to use up your leftover bread scraps and stale butter, and is one of Tamriel's most satisfying desserts in my humble opinion. Served with hot custard and dried snowberries, this pudding is the perfect, least deceptive dish I can imagine.

Hircine

You were spot on with a salad, but let me raise the bar a little. Not just any salad will do, but you'll want all your ingredients to be gently cultivated by hand and farmed, as opposed to wild foraged. Iceberg lettuce and pink pear salad with some crumbled goat cheese and honey hits the spot, but how about topped with some marbled fatty beef? The historic Gweden Farm near Anvil has won countless awards for its pampered cows who are given a daily massage and the best fresh grass and Cyrodiilic grain. Domesticated, happy, and wonderful...unless you're a hunter, that is.

Hermaeus Mora

You'd have to be downright stupid to try a traditional Argonian worm bowl unless you're Saxhleel, and even then, most of them don't want to touch this nasty, wriggling dish. Fresh, live mealworms and kotu gava eggs are drowned in a fermented blood worm sauce, with shredded catapult cabbage and flame-grilled, toxic haj mota flesh. I once commented that it looked a little like Hermaeus Mora himself, before taking a tentative nibble and spending the rest of the day throwing up in the swamp. Please don't try this. It's the dumbest dish in Tamriel, and a pox on whichever Argonian invented it.

Sheogorath

No cheese or strawberry torte here! In fact, the least madness-inducing food I can think of is a nice, mild pistachio ice cream profiterole, dipped in sweet milk chocolate and topped with fresh nuts is the perfect Breton summer treat, yet far too boring for the Prince of Madness to bother with. Which leads us to...

Sanguine

I really dislike coming up with bland, mundane dishes for the occasional fussy eater I come across during my travels. Sanguine, Prince of hedonistic pleasures, probably lurks over my shoulder at the average feast I throw, so I admit I was a bit stumped here...until I remembered my Granny Matilda's chicken noodle soup. As basic as soups come, this simple broth is made by boiling leftover chicken carcasses for a night and a day, and served with plain egg noodles. The perfect food for when you're feeling under the weather, or have the palate of a small Nord child.

Malacath

Altmer cuisine seems like a good way to get Malacath really mad, because it's basically the antithesis of what he stands for. Delicate Quicksilver Lingwe cerviche with a yuzu drizzle and Crystal Hannia caviar, with a light avocado mousse flavoured with apple blossom? A sensory delight, and bound to make any Malacath-respecting Orc gag.

Jyggalag

Fried, hand-pulled buckwheat noodles with a spicy Pellitine-style curry sauce is a good way to make this Prince quite cross with you. Not only is it messy to eat, but your furniture will likely suffer bright orange and yellow stains from the turmeric and tomatoes, and your bowels will also be as tangled as the noodles after consuming a fiery Khajiiti curry.

Vaermina

So mundane and boring, you're definitely not bound to have any dreams or nightmares about a bowl of saltrice porridge with comberry preserves and scrib jerky. The staple food of the common Dunmer, it's tasty enough to eat on a daily basis, but hardly the stuff dreams are made of.

Mephala

This spidery Prince enjoys interfering with us mortals, so it's time to fight back with a dish that'll probably make most other Daedric Princes frown too. Imperial food is famous for its balanced flavours, textures, and fresh ingredients, and a Gold Coat seafood stew is a vibrant dish bursting with the best fresh fish, mussels, lobster, and crabmeat the region has to offer. Mild but but with a tangy punch from the sun-dried tomato based soup and a dash of crisp white wine, this is a dish that both young and old enjoy across Cyrodiil.

Meridia

Charred jerk wild boar stuffed with timber mammoth cheese and a delicious bloody jus-and-honey sauce is sure to make any Bosmer's mouth water! It's definitely dead, it's definitely cooked, and it's definitely bound to disappoint Meridia. Just a warning- try this for a laugh and you'll never be able to get rid of her beacon.

Azura

By Azura, please don't offer this to the Lady of Dawn and Dusk unless you want to irreparably have your race changed! Love and devotion is what this Prince craves, so why not damage yourself with a fiery Dunmeri Vvardenfell fondue, made from scuttle, crab meat, and extremely spicy fire petal blossoms? Enjoyed by the most pain-seeking of Dunmer, my version comes with fried hackle-lo leaf and saltrice-and-wickwheat bread for dipping. It'll have your guts in a twist for days, which is the price to pay for this deliciously hot "cheese" dish. Oh, and did I mention that it's best washed down with a nice cup of Vivec's Gingergreen Chai?

Nocturnal

There's absolutely nothing dark about a Redguard sun-jelly, made with fresh fruits from coastal Hammerfell. Coconut, palm fruit, watermelon, and bananas are the stars of the show in this dessert, set in a chilled agar jelly that keeps the heat at bay. The fanciest Redguards love mixing edible gold flakes into the jelly itself, giving it a delightful luster that is sure to put a smile on your face and chase the shadows away.

Clavicus Vile

You're not going to want to strike any bargain to give up a delicious baked chub loon gratin with echatere cheese, over hasselback potatoes and crispy radish chips. This Orcish delicacy is surprisingly so good it's even tickled the fancy of the fussiest eaters in Tamriel! The chub loon meat is juicy and melts in the mouth, and the echatere cheese melted into the cracks of a hasselback potato are wonderful with radish chips for dipping. Admit it, you're drooling aren't you?

#Asks #Daedric Princes #Daedric Lords #TES #the elder scrolls #World building #worldbuilding #long post #text post

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buck-nialled · 4 years

Note

We need some niall finding out readers pregnant plz!!

NOTE: sorry i’ve been lacking on the writing lately, but I want to let you all know I am trying my hardest to write and get these last requests done whenever I get free time. Here is one of them, finally! Hope you guys like it and thank you all so much again for 1,000+ followers. That is still blowing my mind! <3

Socks - N. Horan Imagine

For knowing you well enough to be your husband, Niall was the most abstruse when it came to your signals. Today marks the beginning of your second month of pregnancy, and the constant reminder to just flat-out tell him the news was quietly mocking you in the back of your mind. It was only a week or two (your doctor approximated) before a bump will become present in your middle.

As you sat on the couch, eyes trained on the little blue gift bag, nearly overflowing with the tissue paper rising out of it. While you continued waiting for your man to arrive home, your mind occupied itself with all of your failed attempts.

One Month Ago

You were the first thing his arms enveloped when he walked through the door and shucked his shoes off of his feet. The familiar shuffling entered your ears and sounded over the boiling pasta sat in front of you on the stove. “Hey, love,” He greeted you with a kiss planted against your temple and slid his hands beneath the bottom of your top for a firmer grip on your waist. The silver wedding band you still needed to remind him to take off before showering or sleeping sent chills down your spine when it made contact with your warm skin. A feeling of comfort filled you from his touch and also the explanation your doctor had given you days prior as to why your stomach has been so finicky with what you put in it lately.

“Hi,” you answered back in a soft voice, abandoning the ladle beside the pot for your husband’s hands instead. When you followed the same trail underneath your cotton shirt to interlock fingers with him, you tilted your head back to meet his sparkling eyes. You hoped the small bean inhabiting your stomach would attain the same shade in their irises. Before you could admire Niall’s features further, his eyelids fell closed and he bent down to lay a chaste kiss to your lips. A small clink sounded when your wedding bands tapped against each other, eliciting giggles from both of you amidst your lip-locking. He pecked your lips once more before fully separating his pair from your own and turning his attention back to the stove.

“Whatcha making?” He hummed, deciding to let his chin inhabit your shoulder while his calloused thumbs ran across the back of your hands.

“Chicken parmesan.” The inevitable grin that stretched along your face made you thankful you were turned away from Niall’s privy eyes. Your expression told all-too-well when something made you overly excited and always demanded ceaseless questions from your husband asking what happened in a tone equally as enthusiastic. At least he was staying true to his vows, you thought, thinking back to his declaration at the altar where he swore to be ecstatic over anything that caused you the most minuscule amount of glee. Niall matches your excitement, bouncing on his legs during him asking you, “with your mom’s famous sauce?” It dropped soon after when you mustered a disappointing shake of your head.

“I went to the market a few days ago and they didn’t have most of the ingredients.” Guilt began gnawing at your insides as soon as the fib slipped off of your tongue. Keeping the stoic expression while delivering the news was difficult, but you managed.

“Oh,” your eyes were trained on the steaming bot as your fingers slowly turned the knob to the stovetop down, halting the bubbles forming at the surface of the water and noodles. “So, what did you get?” You turned to bring the pot of noodles towards the colander in the sink and spot Niall’s brow, perched high on his face with suspicion.

“Check the spice cabinet.” You instructed, slowly dumping the scorching contents of the pot into the strainer. After allowing the hot water to seep into the drain, Niall obeyed your directions.

“Prego?” The disgusted murmur made your lips curl up in a devious smile. Two deep breaths were all it took for you to compose yourself enough to return the freshly strained pasta to the pot and deliver it back to the stove.

“Yep.” You answered simply.

“Why Prego?” Niall wondered aloud. A shrug of your shoulders and why not, Prego is the only answer he was gifted. He allowed it with a pondering sigh, twisting the jar around in his hands to read over the ingredients, his ring occasionally clinking against the glass. A pleasant DING drew you away from the sight as you eagerly reached for the nearest pair of oven mitts. Linking the dots from a bottle of pasta sauce was outlandish to assume from Niall, you knew this.

You noised a small, ‘ah’ and opened the oven door enough for a sliver of heat to crawl out. A content smile was brought to your face by the sight of the golden-brown bread laid out on the pan. “I forgot about my buns in the oven.” You murmured towards Niall, who glanced at you curiously as you cautiously retrieved the pan from the appliance.

“Buns,” he whispered to himself. “But,” he spoke louder at that time, earning a wondering gaze from your spot in the kitchen, “we always have garlic bread on pasta nights.” His comment was on the border of becoming a whine. It took you a few moments to process that Niall was still having difficulty catching on.

“I…you-but…” you stammered, blinking in bafflement. “Do you not get it?” Your mouth hung agape.

“Get what?” His brows furrowed in perplexity and a slight upset that his favorite side had been replaced with plain rolls. A sigh left you.

“Never mind.”

Two Weeks Ago

Intimate nights in with your husband came in the form of warm bubble baths and booze. Fortunately, nixing one of those from your agenda brought fewer questions from Niall than you initially thought when you gave him the lousy excuse that they had been the cause for your recent headaches or stomach troubles. Rather than ending a sensual night with merlot-stained lips, he offered to brew you a calming herbal tea instead. You took it graciously and sighed in bliss from the first sip once it traveled down your throat.

“I know I’m not drunk right now, but I’m going to say something crazy anyways.” You shifted your position on the couch, so your body was fully leaning against Niall’s naked torso. He chuckled and accepted your languid figure with open arms.

“Go ahead, petal. M’ all ears.” He mumbled, taking a break from the recorded golf match on the television before you. He pressed a delicate kiss against your forehead.

“You are such a DILF.” You giggled the words into his bare chest, but Niall understood almost everyone.

“I’m a…”

You brought your face away from his peck and repeated, “A DILF,” with your voice much clearer. Niall answered with a hesitant thank you before admitting he had no clue what the word meant. Yet another aggravated sigh passes through your mouth.

“Forget about it.” You decided and lifted the mug of warm tea to your lips for another sip.

Present

The muffled sound of a car door smacking shut makes your body brittle instantly. Behind your ribs, you felt the comforting thumps of your heart rapidly increase. Placing your palms against your stomach cloaked by one of Niall’s sweatshirts, you began whispering urgently to the raspberry-sized life taking form inside of you.

“Daddy’s home. Let’s go tell him the good news!” You hoisted yourself up from the couch. The thought of not being able to even do that within the coming months has you both equally excited and dreadful.

“Hey, love.” Your husband enters the door, greeting you over the sound of crinkling plastic bags. “Sorry I took so long. I only meant to grab a few things…” he chuckles sheepishly, bringing a hand around to scratch the back of his neck. “You mind helping bring the rest in? I’ll start putting them up.”

As badly as you wanted to blurt the news out right then, you conceded with a nod. A few more minutes of waiting will not kill you. While grabbing as many bags as you could from the trunk of Niall’s car, you cursed at the sight of something falling from the bottom of one of the bags. You grumbled, inspecting the tear at the bottom of the plastic before turning your gaze to the ground. A sharp intake of breath, a few blinks of your eyes…were they not deceiving you?

Observing the pair of baby socks on the ground was one thing. But reaching down and swooping the two identical pieces of cloth was a whole new experience. Tears brimmed your eyes, and thoughts floated through your head, all leading back to the same question: how did Niall find out?

You re-entered the house, setting all of the bags beside the few Niall had carried inside with him. “Thanks, petal. What do you want fo—” He turns away from the open refrigerator and freezes when he sees the pair of baby socks in your hand. “Can I ask?”

“Uh…I like dinosaurs. These were the only size they carried em in.” You tilt your head sideways and lifted your brows in a knowing stare.

“Niall…how did you find out?”

“F-find out what?”

“That I’m pregnant.” The two of you remain catatonic in the room for a few seconds. Had it not been for the humming of the refrigerator, you would have thought the time was paused.

“Your pregnant?” Niall croaks out, eyes sympathetic. A hand reaches up to glide the brown tendrils from his forehead. “I just saw those walking through the store and thought it’d be time to try again. I-I was going to ask when I thought you were ready, but…” like a wall had collapsed between the two of you, Niall strides to the opposite side of the kitchen where you were stood, mouth ajar. He embraces your hands in his.

“It’s true? You’re…we…” He couldn’t find words, but there were none necessary. You nodded furiously, squeezing his hands tight in your own, and thinking how soon it will be for another pair to join them.

“I found out right away when I went to my doctor’s visit almost two months ago. I’ve been trying to hint it at you this whole time, you just never noticed.”

“You were?” Niall gasps. “Wait…is that why you called me daddy in bed the other night?” Niall’s eyes enlarge and you flush a shameful red, recalling your desperation between the sheets just last week.

“No comment. Anyways…” you retreat into the living room. Niall was tailing you the entire way to the small coffee table, where you raised the bag and handed it to him. “This was the only other idea I had that would get the point across. I was going to give it to you when you walked in, but, you know…”

Niall eagerly sifts through all of the tissue paper, until his hands grasp of the piece of clothing in victory. He removes it from the bag and unfolds it, to reveal a navy-blue onesie, fit for an infant. Bold, white text mimicking the font to his latest album, Heartbreak Weather, reads out “Nice to Meet Ya, Dad!” It was only seconds before your face was colliding against Niall’s shoulder, his strong arms clutching both you and his future child’s first piece of clothing. He sinks to his knees before you, lifting the sweatshirt you were still donning in exchange for the sight of your stomach.

"S' nice to meet ya too, little one."

#niallhoran #niall horan #niall horan imagine #niall horan imagines #niall horan fluff #niall horan smut #niall horan angst #niall horan fanfic #niall horan fanfiction #niall horan oneshot #niall horan blurb #niall james horan #nialljameshoran #one direction fanfiction #one direction fluff #one direction imagine #one direction imagines #one direction oneshot #one direction fanfic

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iwillhaveamoonbase · 3 years

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Love at First Bite

Rayla is taken by a client to eat at the Italian-Korean fusion place in town and falls in love with the food, and later, the chef.

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Rayla smiled at her client as they waited for their server to come. Her boss had told her that they had to keep the contract with the client’s company no matter what, and if that meant going to a Korean-Italian fusion restaurant that would probably be too spicy for Rayla’s Scottish, fried-food-loving taste buds, so be it. The client, Ms. Danvers, had been hyping the restaurant up all evening. “You said you like potatoes? This place as amazing kimchi-style potatoes and potato pancakes.”

Rayla nodded. “My grandmother is Irish and there are always potatoes cooking in her house.” Rayla subtly looked around the dining room. The walls were mostly white with a few panels a beautiful red. There was artwork on the walls, ranging from sceneries to portraits. They all looked to be done by the same artist but Rayla couldn’t place a name to them. The air was warm and smelled of spices and herbs and cheese. Rayla could see a row of cheeses on one of the shelves. “Do they use a lot of cheese here?”

“Korean food pairs wonderfully with cheese. There’s a rumor that all the vegetables here are from the local farmer’s market as are most of the cheeses. It’s fusion, but it’s as domestic as possible, too.”

“You’ve really been talking this place up.”

Ms. Danvers flushed. “It’s my favorite restaurant. I come here for lunch once a week and get take-away whenever I’m having a bad day. This place is known for Korean-Italian fusion, but they make a delicious Thai laksa and a vegetarian Tom Yum that is to die for.”

“Really?” Rayla didn’t know that much about Asian food, but she knew that Tom Yum was common in Thai eateries.

“The chef is a quarter-Thai and a quarter-Korean, his grandparents being from Thailand and South Korea. He knows the flavors well and plays with them, but when he goes authentic, he’s the best in town. He will also make almost any dish vegetarian if you request it.”

“How accommodating.”

A server came up, a smile on their face. “Good evening and welcome to Sarai’s Place. Any wine to start this evening?” Rayla shook her head, surprised when Ms. Danvers asked for Thai iced tea for the both of them. “And what can I get started for you?”

“Ms. Burrows?”

Rayla looked down at the menu again. “Hmm. I’m not sure what to get. I don’t have a very high spice tolerance.”

The server nodded. “Scale of 1 to 10?”

“Maybe a three.”

“Do you like kimchi?”

“Never had it.”

“Then I recommend trying the kimchi potatoes, if you like potatoes, or the risotto, which features chopped kimchi, sesame oil, and garlic. The chef makes two kinds of kimchi, one mild and one spicy, so he’ll use the mild for you. For the main dish, if you enjoy cheese, a pasta dish that has mussels, a Korean chili paste and tomato sauce, and fresh parmesan. Everything that can be local, is local and if you eat vegetarian, the mussels will be taken out and instead you will get mushrooms.”

“My grandmother is Irish so I’m very snobbish with my potatoes.”

“I would rate his potato pancakes a ten. He takes the traditional Korean recipe and adds parmesan cheese and some rosemary and its cooked with the house chili oil, so when you cut into it, it’s cheesy and subtly spicy. The house chili oil is made with both gochugaru and the type of dried chilis usually used to make olio di peperocino.”

“I’ll go with the pancakes and the mussels pasta you suggested.”

“Excellent choice. And for you?”

Ms. Danvers smiled. “Did he make Tom Yum or laksa today?”

“Laksa.”

“I will take a bowl of laksa while Ms. Burrows is eating her pancakes and I will also take the mussels pasta. Can we also get an order of garlic bread?”

“Of course. I’ll get your Thai iced teas ready. Anything else today?”

“What’s the dessert of the week?”

“Since it’s summer, mango pudding, Thai coconut pudding, and strawberry-lime cheesecake.”

“We’ll each take a slice of the strawberry-lime cheesecake.” The server nodded and walked away after reading back the list. “I hope you don’t mind me ordering dessert for you, but he only makes that cheesecake when the strawberries are in their peak season and it’s worth it.”

Rayla nodded. “No problem, Ms. Danvers. I wouldn’t really know what to order otherwise.”

They chatted while they waited, pausing when the garlic bread came to the table. Rayla had been expecting the kind of garlic bread Americans seemed to adore, buttery and almost artificially garlic-y. Instead, they got small, fresh loaves that had pieces of roasted garlic and thyme baked into it, served with the house chili oil and garlic that had been cooked until it spread like butter on the bread. Rayla was impressed with the flavor and how the pieces of garlic were not overpowering.

When the potato pancakes came, Rayla could smell the spice but trusted the server had not led her astray, eyeing her glass of Thai iced tea just in case. One bite and she was in heaven. The cheese and the heat from the chili only enhanced the potato flavor as did the light smattering of soy sauce and vinegar-based sauce. Rayla almost ignored Ms. Danvers when the pasta came, inhaling the dish. At the end of the meal, once the excellent cheesecake had been finished, Rayla was in love with the food. “Well, Ms. Danvers, I suppose I should be thanking you for introducing me to my new favorite restaurant.”

Ms. Danvers chuckled. “It’s good, isn’t it?”

“I would marry the chef in a heartbeat if I got to eat like this every day for the rest of my life.”

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Rayla brought all her clients and her coworkers to Sarai’s Place in the following months. She tried almost everything on the menu, though she was still mildly terrified of the spiciness of the laksa if the smell alone was anything to go by. Every Monday and Thursday, she got take-away and ordered the dessert whenever she ate in on Saturdays. She was thankful she was single or else she would have to come here every week with someone and she liked dining alone in the quiet restaurant.

Sometimes, they played classical music, other times K-pop, and Rayla would always remember the night they had played an opera medley when several people with the Katolis Opera Company had dined that night. The chef seemed keenly aware of who came to his restaurants at what dates and times and played music to fit their tastes but also made sense with the theme.

It was a popular spot with not only Foodies and high school kids, but a lot of Asian-Americans dined there. Rayla had looked up the reviews and had seen it was highly recommended by the Katolis Korean and Thai communities, the Katolis restaurant circles, and the Commission for the Promotion of Local Ingredients and Farmer’s Markets. No one said anything bad about Sarai’s Place without at least ten people defending the restaurant’s choices.

And now Rayla was sitting with her boss, Ahling Patel, and having to stop herself from inhaling the food in front of her. The risotto was so satisfying and paired with chicken breast stuffed with kimchi, perilla, and ricotta. “What do you think, Mr. Ahling?”

“It’s delicious. I’ve always felt that fusion was a gimmick, but I’m sold by this young man’s food. Young lady,” Ahling called the server, smiling good-naturedly when she nodded at him and finished up with her current customer. When she came up to their table, she greeted them again. “Is there anyway we can speak to the chef?”

The server blinked before nodding. “I’m sure I can arrange it. Dinner service is almost over and there are only you and two other tables. Can I bring you dessert while I’m talking to him?”

“What do you recommend?”

“Our pastry chef made yakgwa, which are little honey pastries made with pine nuts, ginger, and sesame oil and they also made a yuja polenta cake and a play on Italian lemon cake, but with yuja.”

Rayla ordered the yakgwa and Ahling got the polenta cake and waited for the news. Rayla couldn’t recall having ever seen the chef even though she came there at least twice a week, closer to three. She hadn’t seen any pictures of him, either, surprisingly enough. He was said to keep to himself and shunned the limelight, which is why he never made TV appearances.

A few minutes later, it wasn’t their server, but a man who looked be about 26 arriving with their desserts. His green eyes were striking, as were his cheekbones and sharp jawline. He gave them both an awkward smile as Rayla noticed his ring finger was bare and didn’t seem to have a tan line. Was this the chef? His coat would seem to say so. “Nice to meet you both. I’m Callum Evans, the owner and executive chef here at Sarai’s Place.”

Ahling smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, young man. I’m Ahling Patel and this is my employee, Rayla Burrows.” Rayla nodded her head in acknowledgement. “Your food is delicious. How on Earth do you even think of this?”

The young man flushed, looking down at his feet. “Um, I’m not that special. Many people before me found that Korean and Italian food go well together. Most of my recipes are riffs on family recipes and all my Thai dishes are family recipes. I was originally going to go traditional Korean or Thai but there were no fusion places in the area and I’m part Irish and German on top of being a quarter-Thai and a quarter-Korean. It felt…right, I guess. I’m mixed and grew up with a variety of food cultures in my house, so why not do fusion? Korean and Italian just made the most sense, so…” He looked embarrassed at the praise, rubbing the back of his neck.

Rayla leaned forward a bit. “I’ve eaten here at least twice week for the past six months. I can tell you, without a doubt, it’s my favorite place to eat.”

“Thank you.”

Ahling cleared his throat. “Are you single, Mr. Evans?”

Callum flushed even deeper. “Ah. Yes. Being a chef requires long hours and running a restraint requires even more.”

“You need a good partner to help you find balance in your life!”

Rayla remained quiet as she watched them talk. The only thing going through her mind was ‘I’m going to marry this man for his food. I’ll eat well for the rest of my life.’ She stayed when Ahling said good night and while the restaurant emptied out. Callum stayed at the table, fidgeting under her gaze. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

“A date.”

Callum blinked. “We have a sticky rice made with dates-”

“No. A romantic excursion. An outing.”

He gulped, looking her up and down. “A date? Really?”

“Yes.”

“Why?”

“Because I fell in love with your food almost immediately after I tasted it and would like the chance to know the man who cooks it.”

Callum blushed. “OK.” They exchanged info and Rayla smirked as she left with his number in her cellphone. There was no way she would be letting this one go.

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

After four months of dating, Rayla could confidently say that she was now just as in love with Callum the man as she was with his cooking. Learning that his restaurant was named after his mother who died when he was in high school had endeared him to her, as had the knowledge that all the art on the walls were his paintings. Was there anything he couldn’t do?

They were currently in Callum’s kitchen, him developing a new recipe while Rayla took down notes for him. Even on his days off, he was always thinking about what he would do next and Rayla admired his passion to his craft. When he brought her up to try the dish, she groaned. “I will marry this man if it’s the last thing I do,” she muttered.

“I can hear you, you know,” Callum chuckled.

Rayla raised a brow. “Then why haven’t you accepted my proposal?”

“Because you proposed to my food?”

“I hardly see the difference.” Callum laughed at her, shaking his head. “Hey, move in with me.”

“We’ve been together for four months.”

“Is that a problem? Too short?”

Callum stared at her. “You’re serious.”

“I told you; I fully plan on marrying you to eat your cooking ‘til the day I die.”

“So, it’s my cooking you love?”

“When have I hidden this?” Rayla reached for his hand, pulling him closer. “I’m serious. Move in with me.”

“Why?”

Rayla shrugged. “I’m happy when we wake up next to each other. I like the idea of coming home to you or you coming home to me. I don’t like sleeping alone, and, for the past month, the two of us have been alternating sleeping at each other’s places and it doesn’t make sense to pay rent on two places when we could be happy together?”

“That and I’m the only person willing to put up with your stubborn ass.”

Rayla gave him a mock offended looking, giving his arm a playful smack. “You love my stubborn ass.”

“I do.” Callum leaned down and captured her lips, letting her taste the dish he had been working on for the past hour. When they pulled apart, he looked down into her eyes with his bright green ones. “I think I love you.”

“That’s good, because I think I love you, too.”

Rayla would take that for now. And in two years, when she would be standing next to him in front of their new house, matching rings on their fingers, and a very pregnant belly, she would remind him that he had his food to thank for their relationship. “I fell in love with your food first.”

“I’m glad you did, because you kept coming back.”

“Lucky you.”

“Lucky me.”

#moonbase fanfics #rayllum #rayllum fanfic #the dragon prince #au #love at first bite #this was just for fun

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comingfromastatechampionasshole · 4 years

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Risotto!

Or:

Oh my god I want to go out to a fancy restaurant but everything is just this right now what in the actual fuck Risotto.

Risotto is easy, and moreover, if you go to most restaurants, you aren’t getting real risotto! Most patrons aren’t going to be patient with the half hour it takes to make this dish and it doesn’t hold, so they do a parcooked version that is generally fine, but not nearly as good as when you make it yourself, and isn’t what the Italians had in mind.

This recipe makes a FUCKTON of risotto. It can easily be a main for four or a side for six. I made it as a main for three (my mom lives in my basement apartment and I dropped her off some) without any side dishes. You should be able to halve this with little trouble.

Time to wine and dine yourself! You will need:

1 small to medium onion, chopped

2 tbsp or so of butter

Garlic cloves, somewhere between 4 and 18, depending on how your feel in your soul.

1 cup of white wine, I usually get a can and drink/zone out while I’m stirring, but set aside the cup. Drier is better. You can sub in other things for the wine but honestly, it will be a pale imitation. Just use it in the risotto, you don’t have to drink it. If you don’t consume alcohol for religious reasons, the very best white wine substitute for risotto is 3 parts white grape juice with 1 part white wine vinegar. It’s not the same, but it’s the very best.

2 cups Arborio or Carnaroli rice, if you’re really hard up on the quarantine train you can use a sushi-style rice, but it won’t be nearly as good. Arborio is usually in the rice section, top shelf. I have trouble finding carnaroli but I live in a pretty small place.

5 - 6 cups chicken or vegetable broth. I normally only need five, but sometimes I do need the sixth.

3-5 large mushrooms, chopped, optional but delicious.

1 and ½ cup Parmesan cheese (Not the green can you bastards. Ideally shredded but I used grated last night)

Seasoning. Simple salt and pepper is enough honestly, but basil is good, thyme, dill, whatever your heart loves.

Okay!

So the first thing you’re going to do is set yourself and your significant other/parent/cat a nice place at the table, and light some candles, play some nice music, set the ambiance for going out.

Then, take your broth, put it into a saucepan, and heat to a low simmer. You don’t want it to be cold when you toss it into the risotto. Leave it at a low simmer while you’re doing the rest of this.

In a deep skillet or dutch oven (When I say deep skillet, I mean like 5 inch sides or better) you’ll melt the butter over a medium heat, and then saute the onion and garlic until it’s translucent but not browned.

Add your rice! We’re going to delicately toast the rice, making sure to keep it moving so it doesn’t burn. Once you’ve got some light toasting action, the real thing begins!

Toss in your cup of white wine, stirring constantly until absorbed by the rice. Add your mushrooms, and stir.

You’ll add your broth at about ¾ cup to ½ cup at a time, stirring until the broth is absorbed every time before adding more. This should take about 20-30 minutes total, and you’ll start to get a really delicate creaminess surrounding the rice. Taste from time to time and continue to season, but go easy on the salt--parmesan is REALLY salty, and we haven’t added it yet.

Continue until the rice is finished, normally easy to tell by when it stops absorbing broth but also, just taste a piece of rice! When it’s soft and yielding, you’re ready.

Stir in parmesan and adjust seasoning.

You’re done! I served it with some roasted chicken breast slices on top, but that was just what I had around. Goes great with a light white wine and some sparkling conversation. You can totally riff on this recipe and try with peas or asparagus, don’t be afraid to experiment!

#recipes #risotto #rice #date night recipes #quarantine recipes

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searchingwardrobes · 4 years

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Here’s another story about the characters Micah and Chloe from my novel What Hindered Love. I’m sure no summary is really needed based on the images above! This is also inspired by the story I have heard my whole life about how my dad proposed to my mom. (Spoilers, naturally.)

Words: 4k and some change

Rated: eh, a light T

Tagging: @snowbellewells @teamhook @xhookswenchx @ekr032-blog-blog @sherlockianwhovian @superchocovian @thislassishooked @ohmakemeahercules @kday426 @onceuponaprincessworld @ilovemesomekillianjones @nikkiemms @kmomof4 @hollyethecurious @bethacaciakay @whimsicallyenchantedrose @welllpthisishappening @wellhellotragic @tiganasummertree @captainswanapproved

Chloe stood in front of her mirror, noting the blush rising to her cheeks as she fastened the clasp of the necklace Micah had given her for Valentine’s Day years ago. Her fingers trembled slightly, and she kept gnawing at her lower lip. It was completely and utterly ridiculous for her to be this nervous. Sure, they were calling this their “first” date, but it was far from a normal one.

“Mommy, stop staring at yourself! You look perfect already!” Her six year old cried out behind her. His voice was equal parts whiny, breathless, and excited. She laughed at his reflection in the mirror. He was jumping on her bed, alternately flinging his entire body down on the mattress then bouncing to his feet again. Luke was a mass of constant motion with a perpetual sheen of sweat and constantly mussed hair.

And Luke was the reason it was ridiculous to call this a first date. Since he inherited that dark, thick mass of messy hair as well as his bright blue eyes from his father.

“Do you think Daddy will bring you flowers? Will he take you to a ball?”

Chloe narrowed her eyes and put her hands on her hips. “A ball? Where do you think we live, Disney World?” Then she reached down and tickled her son – their son – until he was squealing with laughter. Lincoln then came bursting in, yelling, “Me too, me too!” as he tugged on Chloe’s skirt. She complied by tossing the three year old on the bed, tickling both boys anew until they were both breathlessly begging her to stop.

Just as Chloe let them go, she heard the doorbell ring. Both boys yelled, “Grandma!” and raced down the hall. Chloe glanced through the peep hole to check that it was indeed Elizabeth Barrett, then let Luke pull the door open. Both boys showered her with hugs and kisses. It warmed Chloe’s heart to see how the entire Barrett family treated Lincoln with the same love and affection as they did Luke.

Elizabeth rose from greeting the boys and gave Chloe a hug of her own. “Oh, Chloe,” she enthused, still grasping her by both arms. You look stunning.”

“Thank you,” Chloe told her as she shook out the skirt. The top of the dress was simple; black, sleeveless, and form-fitting with a scooped neckline. But the A-line skirt had an overlay with gold embroidery. It was simple, yet elegant, and accentuated Chloe’s figure without being overtly sexy. Kate, who had gone shopping with her, had gasped that it fit her personality perfectly, and Chloe had to agree. It was even comfortable, believe it or not. “Micah said he was taking me somewhere that had to do with Christmas, and gold and black works, right?”

“Absolutely,” Elizabeth agreed with a smile, “red is so overdone at the holidays. Of course, I think Micah would love you even in a paper sack.”

Chloe brushed off the compliment, that infernal blush rising to her cheeks again, and hurried into the kitchen to show Elizabeth the leftovers for dinner. She found herself rambling on about bedtime, then trailed off when she realized that Elizabeth had been taking care of Luke since he was born. But the woman just nodded and smiled. Then the doorbell rang again.

“Daddy!” Luke screamed at the top of his lungs as he darted for the door.

Elizabeth caught him in a bear hug from behind. “No, no, little man. Let your Mommy and Daddy say hello to each other.”

“Why? They say hello all the time.”

Chloe shook her head and laughed at her son’s answer, then took a deep breath and pulled the door open. She blinked as she took Micah in with a heated and appreciative gaze. Would his handsome looks ever cease to take her breath away?

“Wren,” he breathed out with an equally appreciative look on his face, “you are absolutely exquisite.”

Chloe ducked her head and blushed. Then she ran her gaze up and down his frame before giving him a crooked smile, “You don’t look so bad yourself.”

The smile that lit his face dimpled his cheeks and crinkled his eyes. His tailored suit with a shirt of deep blue and a black tie made her relieved that she had picked a fancier dress. They just stood there for a moment staring at each other as if the clock had rewound about seven years until Luke came barreling past Chloe to collide with his father’s waist.

Micah had to greet both boys and attempt to explain for the hundredth time to Lincoln why all four of them couldn’t go before he and Chloe managed to get out the door.

“Maybe I should have picked you up,” Chloe quipped as Micah helped her into the passenger’s side of his truck.

“Nonsense,” Micah argued back, “no gentleman would agree to that arrangement.”

Chloe rolled her eyes at that. “So, where are you taking me?”

“Well,” Micah told her, shifting slightly in his seat as he pulled out of Chloe’s apartment complex, “we’re driving into Boston to see a production of The Nutcracker.” He scratched behind his ear as he glanced at her nervously. “Is – is that okay?”

“Okay?” Chloe replied hoarsely, tears filling her eyes. “It’s way more than okay. I haven’t been since Sarah passed.”

He let out a deep sigh of relief. “That’s what I thought.” He then lifted her hand to his lips and brushed a kiss there. It was so incredibly thoughtful, and so like him to remember. Chloe had always dreamed of going to see the ballet when she was a little girl, so when Sarah had adopted her, she had made a point to take her every Christmas. Even Micah had tagged along that year they were dating.

Micah didn’t release her hand. At first. But the longer he clasped her hand, the more jittery he became. She was used to him rubbing his thumb across her knuckles, but tonight his hand seemed to be going into spasms. And either Chloe was imagining it, or his hand was getting clammy. Chloe finally slipped her hand free and set it in her lap. She eyed Micah curiously. Had he gotten sick but didn’t want to cancel their date?

“Are you okay?”

Micah gave a nervous chuckle, “Sure, I’m fine.”

Chloe narrowed her eyes at him, not completely buying it, but she said nothing further. She put on a bright smile and started telling him about Luke and Lincoln’s antics at the park today, but when it dragged on into a one-sided conversation, she petered out. She gnawed on her lower lip as she gazed out the window at the fresh blanket of snow on the ground. They normally had no problem talking for hours over nothing at all, but tonight, on their first official date now that they were a couple again, he was strangely silent.

But then they arrived at the theater, and he flashed her that gorgeous smile of his. He gallantly insisted on opening her door, then took her arm like he truly was escorting her to a ball. She thought of Luke’s childish questions and couldn’t help smiling. Once inside, they were preoccupied with finding their seats, and Chloe was in awe as she always was of the theater itself. The silence between them now was a comfortable thing, and as the lights dimmed, Chloe slipped her arm through Micah’s and squeezed it. He smiled adoringly at her, and she rested her head on his shoulder as the lights came up on Clara, Drosselmeyer, and the enormous Christmas tree.

As the show went on, however, Chloe became concerned again. Micah pulled away from her to lean forward, resting his chin on his fist. Then his legs were bouncing. But the thing that concerned Chloe most was when she pulled her eyes away from Grandmother Ginger to see him kneading his left knee. She swallowed down her concern and concentrated on the remainder of the ballet.

Afterwards, Micah took her to a fancy Italian restaurant down the street from the theater. It was a gorgeous place, intimate, with fancy tablecloths and flickering candlelight. But Micah still didn’t seem like himself. Their conversation kept stalling, and he just couldn’t seem to stop fidgeting. Chloe could only nibble at her chicken parmesan and sip at her wine because of the dry lump in her throat.

On the drive back to Lightport, Micah asked her about work, and Chloe gladly talked on and on about every little thing from one of the other nurse’s new pregnancy to the new Doc McStuffins stickers that all the kids seemed to love. She actually went on a five minute tangent about how the children’s show was doing wonders to help her calm kids down when they were getting an exam. Anything to keep them from lapsing into silence again.

“They should have made a kids show about a doctor for toys ages ago,” Chloe’s chuckle sounded strained, even to her own ears. She sighed with relief when the town sign came into view.

For the first time since Boston, Micah turned to her with a tender smile. “Want to go for a walk along the beach?”

“Are you serious?”

Micah’s face fell, and a look of confusion darted across his eyes. Chloe hadn’t meant her words to come out so clipped and harsh, but what did he expect? It had been one of the most awkward dates in her entire life. With someone she thought she knew better than anyone in the world.

“Why wouldn’t I be serious?”

Chloe barked out a sarcastic laugh. “You can’t be that dense, Micah. You’ve acted the entire night like you’d rather be somewhere else, and now you want to take a romantic stroll along the beach?”

Micah blinked rapidly. “Chloe, you don’t understand . . . I never meant . . . that is to say . . . “

He had turned the deepest shade of red Chloe had ever seen, and he was rubbing at that knee of his again. The way he’d been acting tonight, you would think . . . Chloe gasped. When she spoke, she tempered her words carefully, “You’re not taking the pills again, are you?”

“What!” Micah yelled. “How could you think that?”

“Then answer the question!”

“Of course I’m not! You have that little faith in me?” He had gotten so upset, he had pulled the car over. He shifted in his seat to face her, rubbing the back of his neck agitatedly.

“What am I supposed to think? You’re jittery, your palms are clammy,” Chloe counted off the symptoms on her fingers, “you’re unable to focus, I mean, what else could it be?”

The color had drained from Micah’s face as she spoke, and suddenly another possibility washed over her like ice cold water.

“Or . . . “ she swallowed, her eyes filling up with tears. She shook her head briefly, and cut the tears off. “Take me home, Micah,” she whispered.

“Chloe, no, please,” Micah protested, reaching for her. Chloe shook off his hand.

“So can you explain why you’re acting so uncomfortable tonight?” Chloe sat there with her arms crossed, watching him as he stared out the windshield, his hands squeezing the steering wheel, and his jaw clenching.

“No,” he finally whispered, defeated, “I guess I can’t.”

Wordlessly, he put the truck back in drive and headed back to her apartment complex. The silence between them now was a painful, tangible thing. When he parked right outside her unit, Chloe shifted in her seat, clutching the pendant of her necklace in her fist to give her courage.

“Micah, remember how you told me that you wouldn’t push me for more than I was ready for in this relationship?” At his curious nod, she continued, “Well, that’s true the other way around. I don’t want you forcing this because . . . I don’t know, because you think I need you or because Luke wants it so badly. If the spark just isn’t there anymore, then –“

“Chloe,” he said, cutting her off, “check the glove compartment.”

He said it with almost resignation, but when she glanced at him, he had a tiny, wry smile on his face. He gestured with his hand. “Go on, just humor me. Open it.”

Chloe took a deep breath as she reached for the glove compartment. She couldn’t help flashing back to Thanksgiving seven years ago when she opened Micah’s glove compartment and an almost empty bottle of pain pills fell into her palm. But this time, she saw a small velvet jewelry box. Her mouth fell open as she cut her gaze back to Micah. His grin had widened and he gave a rueful shrug. With trembling fingers, Chloe pulled out the box and opened it. Inside glittered an engagement ring. A simple, round diamond with two other tiny round diamonds set on either side of it. Chloe blinked, her mind reeling.

“This,” she whispered, “is why you were so nervous tonight?”

“Aye.” There was a long pause before he continued. “I know it sounds crazy, since this is only our first date since we got back together. But, Chloe, that ring is honestly seven years overdue. When I bought you that necklace, I looked at rings first. I almost bought one. Maybe I should have.”

Chloe placed a hand gently on his arm. “No, Micah. We weren’t ready then.”

He pulled in a deep, shuddering breath and nodded. “But I’m ready now, Chloe. I’ve wanted this for years, if I’m being completely honest. And like I said, I know it might seem fast, but think about it. We’ve actually been dating for eight months anyway and were just in denial about it.”

Chloe was able to chuckle at that. “You sound like Maggie.”

Micah managed a nervous laugh himself and then shrugged. “Well, she was right.” He ran his tongue nervously along his bottom lip as he shifted closer to her and clasped both her hands in his. She could tell he was completely earnest and sincere right now, but all she wanted to do was grab him and kiss him.

“So, Chloe, will you marry me?”

That was it. She couldn’t hold the tears back any longer. They poured down her cheeks, and he grasped her face tenderly, wiping them away as they fell. She managed to nod, and then finally to speak. “Yes, yes, of course I will.”

He kissed her then, and her tears turned to deliriously happy smiles. He managed to slip the ring on her finger, despite the way she kept peppering his face with kisses. Then their lips met again, with passion this time, and it was all Chloe could do to pull herself away. She laughed at Micah’s whimper of protest, but grasped his face and rubbed his nose with hers.

“Sorry, but we’ve got a kid inside who is going to flip out over this news.”

Micah wholeheartedly agreed. They hurried inside to find both Luke and Lincoln asleep on either side of Micah’s mother. She looked up at them sheepishly, knowing she had been caught spoiling them, but Chloe cut off her apologies by holding out her hand to show off the ring. Micah’s mother leapt from the couch, pulling Chloe immediately into a tight hug. When she pulled away, tears shone in her eyes, and she held both hands up to her mouth. When she finally spoke, her words shocked Chloe.

“It’s about time.”

Micah laughed and leaned down to brush a kiss to his mother’s cheek. Chloe decided to refrain from reminding her how she felt about the two of them getting married seven years ago.

“Mom, we want to go ahead and tell Luke,” Micah whispered.

Elizabeth nodded her head in understanding, quickly gathered her things, and hurried out. Chloe and Micah then knelt beside the couch and began gently shaking their son. Finally, his eyes blinked open and he frowned at the sight of the two of them.

“Waz – goin on,” he muttered as he rubbed at his eyes.

“Look what Daddy got Mommy,” Chloe told him, showing him the ring on her finger. Luke furrowed his brow and rubbed at his hair as he stared at it.

“That’s nice,” he finally muttered, collapsing back down on the couch, his eyes falling shut.

Micah laughed as he shook the boy again. When Luke finally opened his eyes again, Micah explained, “We’re getting married, little buddy. Mommy and Daddy are getting married.”

Luke sat bolt upright at those words, his eyes growing as wide as saucers. “Seriously?” he asked. Chloe and Micah nodded. “Yes!” Luke cheered as he leapt from the couch. “This. Is. Awesome! Are we all moving into Daddy’s apartment? Or will we get a house? Do I need to pack right now? Will Lincoln call you Daddy now too? Awesome, awesome, awesome!”

Chloe and Micah laughed as they watched Luke run circles around the room. Getting him back to bed proved to be impossible, so Chloe and Micah both changed out of their fancy clothes and cuddled up with both boys on the couch to watch Star Wars: A New Hope. Amazingly, Lincoln only woke up long enough to mutter unintelligibly and then curl into a ball on Micah’s lap.

They woke up like that the next morning, Chloe in the crook of Micah’s arm with Luke’s head in her lap, and Lincoln splayed across Micah’s chest.

Her engagement ring sparkled in the light of dawn.

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Eight weeks later, Chloe is standing in front of the sanctuary doors of Community Fellowship, dressed in a form fitting, white lace gown. Her hair is in a low bun, a simple veil tucked into it. Luke is clutching her right arm, bounding on his heels, and her left hand clutches her simple bouquet of pink roses. In some ways, it’s hard to believe they pulled this off in only eight weeks.

In other ways, it had been the longest eight weeks of her life.

Of course, when your fiancée, his brother, and your two cousins run a catering and event business, pulling off a last minute wedding is nothing. And Micah’s dad being a pastor meant they had no trouble reserving the church – for free. On Valentine’s Day.

Yes, it is Valentine’s Day. If someone had told Chloe even a year ago that she would be marrying Micah today, she would have laughed. She laughs now, thinking about her phone call to Micah a year ago exactly and how she mistakenly thought he was dating someone else.

“What’s so funny, Mommy?” Luke asks.

Chloe shakes her head, “Nothing kid, I’m just happy, that’s all.”

Luke grins broadly, revealing the two front baby teeth he recently lost. “Me too, Mommy.”

The first notes of the song “God Bless the Broken Road” by Rascall Flatts begins to play from inside the sanctuary. It’s their cue. With a deep breath, Chloe pulls the doors open and steps inside. As she walks down the aisle, every word of the song rings true for the journey that brought them here. She is torn between locking her eyes with Micah’s at the end of the aisle to looking down at their son, who looks happier than she’s ever seen him. As for Micah, his grin threatens to split his face, and his eyes are filled with so much tender awe, that it almost makes her start crying already.

The song ends as they reach the front, and she can’t tear her eyes from Micah’s. Pastor Ryan, who is officiating, opens by asking, “Who gives this woman to be wed to this man?”

“I do!” Luke shouts enthusiastically, shoving his hand up in the air. Everyone chuckles at his exuberance. Luke then turns to point to Lincoln. The three year old was the ring-bearer and he’s currently attempting to share Elizabeth Barrett’s lap with the flower girl, Josiah and Kate’s little girl Haley. “And my brother, too. We’re both excited for Mommy and Daddy to get married.”

The congregation laughs again, especially when Luke fist bumps his father before going to join the rest of the family on the front row. Once it has died down, Ryan glances at the couple mischievously before beginning the homily.

“Well, I think all of us here at Community Fellowship would agree on one thing: It’s about time!” Ryan’s opening is greeted not only with laughter, but even a few amens. Behind Micah, Josiah shoves him teasingly in the shoulder. Chloe glances back to see Maggie giving her a smug look.

“I also think,” Ryan continues, “that we all got a little tired of watching these two date while swearing they weren’t.”

Micah rolls his eyes at Ryan, but his smile shows that the ribbing doesn’t really bother him. As for Chloe, she can’t seem to wipe the stupid smile off her face. Ryan wraps up his short message, then tells Micah to share his vows. Chloe turns and gives her bouquet to Maggie and almost loses it when she sees Kate and Hannah wiping at their tears. She takes a deep breath as she turns to Micah and takes his hands in hers. She anchors herself in his bright blue eyes.

“First, Chloe,” he begins, “I have to say that I don’t deserve you –“

“Stop,” Chloe breaks him off with a hand to his lips. She blushes as she glances at Ryan. “Sorry, I just can’t let him say that.” She looks back at her groom. “Micah Barrett, you are a good man, and I am honored to become your wife.”

Micah smiles as her fingers slip from his lips, and he quirks a brow at her. “I thought I was the one saying my vows right now.”

Chloe ducks her head, blushing slightly as the congregation laughs once more. Kilian releases one of her hands and grasps her chin gently. He tilts her face to look at him, and he says his vows while his thumb ghosts along her jaw.

“Chloe, I think we have an advantage over some newlyweds. We already know that neither of us is perfect. And we understand that we don’t have to be. We choose to see the best in each other, and I vow to keep doing that every day for the rest of my life. It always amazes me how you can’t see how big your heart is. The way you forgive. The way you never give up on people. And I vow today to make it my job to cherish you. With my words and my deeds. Forever and always.”

Chloe can hear several people sniffling in the audience when Micah finishes, but for some reason a calm has settled over her. Micah’s gaze is like a peaceful place in the storm. She grasps the hand that still cups her cheek and kisses it before clutching both his hands firmly in hers.

“Micah, if I’m being honest, I’ve longed for this day since I was 19 years old. Then I thought I had to put that dream aside. But look what God has done. Using our son to bring us back together.” Her voice falters for a moment, her tears threatening to spill over. Micah gives her a tiny nod of encouragement. “And so I choose today to look forward, not behind. When we were young, we were lovers. Now we’re best friends. And today my vow is to take it one step further: to be your soulmate. Your partner in all things. Forever and always.”

Her tears are slipping down her cheeks now, but she doesn’t care. Micah reaches out and catches one with his thumb. The rest of the service goes by in a blur, from the exchanging of rings to Kate and Hannah’s duet. Then Ryan is giving them a knowing grin.

“I am blessed and honored, in front of all these witnesses, to now pronounce you husband and wife. What God has joined together, let no one put asunder.”

There is a long pause, and finally they both glance curiously at Ryan. For Micah, it’s more of a glare.

“Oh, did I forget something?” Ryan asks, feigning ignorance. Once he’s gotten sufficient laughter from the crowd, he smiles and says, “That’s right. I forgot. You may kiss the bride!”

Chloe surprises Micah by pouncing first, grabbing him by the lapels of his tux and hauling him in. He catches up quickly, though, kissing her back with fervor that elicits hoots from the crowd. He then dips her dramatically. He holds her close as he sets her back on her feet, and whispers for only Chloe to hear.

“What was that you said years ago about not feeling comfortable making out in church?”

Chloe leans back to see the cocky, slightly rebellious smirk of a smart-ass pastor’s kid. She then pulls in close and whispers back, “You’re my husband now, making out with you is considered holy.”

Micah waggles his eyebrows. “As a PK, I can confirm that your opinion is scripturally and theologically sound.”

Chloe rolls her eyes and kisses him again for good measure, thrilling slightly at the teasing reprimands from the rest of the family. They’ll just have to get used to it. Because forever and always is a very long time.

#what hindered love #micah and chloe #my book #my writing #original work

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hystericalweenie · 4 years

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Just Another Day at the Office Series - New Experiences

George MacKay x Reader Series

Part Two: Overthinking

Masterlist

Summary: Y/f/n Y/l/n had found herself stuck in a scenario she’d never thought she’d ever have to face: she’d been catching feelings for a coworker. While she attempted to adapt to her new job and work load, she also had to get used to these new feelings and figure out what the fuck to do with them. George made her want to take risks, she didn’t care about the potentiality of a broken heart with him, because falling in love with him made it seem worth it. Is George falling for Y/n too? Will he be able to reciprocate her feelings?

a/n: I have absolutely no personal experience in magazine/journalism career, so the information in this fic will be provided with the knowledge I have conducted from research. With that being said, please don’t be mad if this is not accurate!!! Sorry this part’s so short! I have more ideas coming but they wouldn’t have fit right in this chapter ://

Warnings: This is a slow burn fic, their relationship won’t happen in one night, so if you’re not into that, check out some of the beautifully written imagines that you can most likely find under the george mackayxreader tag. I might eventually write some of my own too :P At least one person’s saying “fuck” and there’s some sexual! tension! up! in! here! Brief mentions of sex, nothin’ too bad.

PSA: Everyone please stay safe out there! Protect your elders, family members with chronic illnesses/diseases/etc., and all those whose immune systems are extremely vulnerable to this virus!

My eyes peeled open at approximately three in the morning. The room was still dark, my naked figure still remained on top of George’s, and the previous events were clear as day in my head. This uneasy feeling rested in my stomach, a feeling of guilt, and it made me want to throw up. Feeling so vulnerable, like I’d exposed so much of myself to a man I barely knew, it was a new sensation and I felt almost angry at myself for my actions. Why did I let this man perform such an intimate action on me? Why did I do the same to him? It made me even more uncomfortable that we didn’t have a label on our relationship, that all he thought he was to me was a coworker.

I wanted to cry, I wanted to sob my heart out and curl into a ball by myself, in my own bed. But, instead, I lay on top of George in my naked form, our skin flush against each other, as I fought back tears that threatened to spill from my confused y/e/c eyes. I wasn’t sure why I was so emotional, why I felt so exposed and guilty for having oral sex with George. Bree did this all the time, right? This felt different though, maybe because of the fact that we had an unlabeled relationship and the fear of being abandoned had been taking over me. Or, maybe, it was a sense of shame that I’d let myself lose my self control and got lost in the intimacy.

Wherever this guilt and shame feeling was coming from, it was eating me alive and I had no idea what to do about it. I wondered how George would react when he awoke. Was he expecting me to leave, like a one night stand would? I didn’t want to give him the wrong impression, because I, most certainly, did not believe this to be a one night stand. I wished he would talk to me, that his eyes would flutter open and I’d be able to tell him how guilty I was feeling. I wished I could interrogate him with a label, because I needed to know what this meant.

I couldn’t help the tears spilling out now, they dragged down my face and pattered onto his chest like raindrops. I wanted, so badly, just to be in my own bedroom, by myself without the worries of George seeing me cry and asking ‘what’s wrong’; there was too much wrong with my head at that moment, far too much to explain to him and if I’d tried, he’d no doubt think I was a lunatic. I sniffled, wiping my eyes quickly before I heard him stir in his sleep. I froze, stilling my body, hoping that I hadn’t woken him up. With one of his arms snaked lazily around me, his breathing returned to its previous steady rhythm.

“I know you’re awake,” he mumbled.

I was wrong; he didn’t go back to sleep.

I sighed, feeling his fingers begin to trace patterns on my bare back.

“I’m just thinking,” I answered back, my breath against his skin.

He rested his chin on top of my head.

“What about, love?”

Love. Why did he have to do this to me, to make me feel so warm and safe after all of those feelings I’d been having? Why did he have to confuse me even more? Curse this handsome British man.

“What last night meant,” I admitted.

If it wouldn’t come out now, it’d come out eventually. I didn’t see any point in lying anymore. His fingers stopped abruptly against my back, before quickly resuming. I felt his warm breath against my hair, feeling him press his lips against my scalp.

“What do you want it to have meant?” he questioned softly.

I brought one of my own fingers to the bed, tracing the flannel design on the sheets in hopes of making this conversation easier for me.

“I didn’t really want it to be casual,” I confessed, my eyes focusing on my finger tracing. “I’m not one to have casual sex, not that we actually had sex, but I think oral sex still applies,” I blabbered nervously.

“I’m glad we’re on the same page,” he muttered into my hair. “I really like you, Y/n. I was actually quite worried that you’d leave in the middle of the night.”

My eyes widened at his confession, butterflies making my stomach feel sick.

“I like you too, George. I’m just a little overwhelmed right now, I think.”

My finger led to his arm, tracing over the veins that traveled from the backs of his hands to his forearms. His skin was soft and warm, and I found this simple action comforting my anxious head.

“Do you want me to make you some tea?” he offered, now brushing his fingers gently up and down my back, differing from his previous design tracing.

“No, thanks.” I traced my fingers up to his biceps, feeling him shiver under me as he reacted to the movement of my gentle fingers. “I’m feeling a bit better, actually,” I mumbled against his skin.

I felt him press his lips against the top of my head, keeping them there for a moment. I wondered if he was inhaling the scent of my lavender shampoo.

“I like this,” I added softly, moving my fingers down to the back of his hand. “I like just laying like this.”

He moved the arm I’d been tracing and wrapped it around me, joining his other arm. I felt him brush his cheek against my hair, nuzzling me. I couldn’t help the smile that crept onto my face as he embraced me lovingly.

“Me too.”

The second time I’d woken up that morning, I was feeling much better in contrast to the first time. Knowing George’s feelings for me and feeling him embrace me gave me some of the comfort that I’d needed. I turned my head so that my chin rested on his chest, as I watched him sleep. He looked so calm, there hadn’t been a single frustrated crease on his face. His bruised eye was a greenish yellow hue that day, signifying that it was properly healing, and the scab on his lip had reopened from last night’s activities. I gently ran the pad of my thumb over his bottom lip, checking for any blood. His eyes fluttered open, meeting mine instantly.

“Has my alarm gone off?” he asked, his accent accentuated due to its raspiness and exhaustion.

And as if on cue, the alarm on his phone blared. He groaned, his head tilting back in dramatic agony before reaching for the device and turning it off. He put his phone back down, before returning his attention back to me. A lazy smile took over his lips, his eyes swollen with sleep as he looked at me. His arms removed themselves from my back, as both of his palms grasped each side of my face, his thumbs stroking my cheekbones.

“You’re so beautiful,” he commented, as his eyes observed my face.

My cheeks heated instantly before I gained the confidence to roll my eyes and push myself off of him.

“C’mon, we have to get ready for work,” I reminded him. My eyes widened. Work. “Shit, I have to get to my apartment.”

“Do you want me to whip up something quick for breakfast before you leave?” he offered.

I frowned, realizing the sun had already started to rise through the curtains of his room.

“I don’t think I have time,” I chewed on my lip. “But I really wish I did; I still have to shower after last night,” I reminded him.

He smirked at the mention of last night.

“Alright, at least let me walk you out to your car, then,” he pleaded.

I gave him a toothy grin.

“Of course.”

I changed into my clothes after the long process of looking for the fabrics strewn all over his floor. He copied my actions until the both of us were fully dressed and ready to leave. I grabbed my purse on the way out, which had been sitting in his kitchen. The chicken parmesan recipe reminded me of the way we washed dishes afterwards, how he’d told me about missing his family in England and how his father was Australian. Conversations like those, conversations about childhood and life before we’d met made me fall more and more in love with George.

As we made our way to my parked car, I leant against the door and looked up at him. The way his skin glowed underneath the rising sun, the way the beautiful colors washed over him and made his hair look golden. I slipped my tongue between my lips and fisted the collar of his shirt, bringing him to my lips. His arms immediately snaked around my waist as our lips moved intensely against one another’s, returning to our perfect rhythm. I could feel myself melt under George; he was absorbing me by the second and I knew I would be too far gone soon enough, but I didn’t care anymore.

We finally released, as I gave him one last peck to savor the taste of his lips, the taste of him.

“I’ll see you at the office?” I smirked, watching his blissful expression. I hoped I was having the same effect on him.

I drove away, leaving him looking fucked-out. But, God, I loved it.

As soon as I entered the apartment, I was immediately met with Bree’s wide hazel eyes.

“I will tell you everything later,” I promised quickly, before hopping into the shower and taking possibly the fastest shower I’d ever taken in my life.

I threw on a dress, a jacket, and wedges and left the house, not even caring to do my makeup. I sped to work, praying that I’d be on time. And after rushing into the elevator and speed-walking toward my office, I was finally able to breathe regularly. I looked across to my brunette friend, my lips curling into a smile at his presence.

“You’re back today?” I queried, logging into my computer and settling into my chair.

“I am,” he confirmed, winking at me with his signature smile.

“Let’s get this mother fucking show on the road, then, shall we?” I clapped my hands together, opening my documents that I’d already written and sending them to him.

After work, I went out to retrieve my CBD oil for the article before returning to the apartment. But as soon as I turned the knob, Bree was shouting from the couch.

“Tell! Me! Everything!” she begged.

I rolled my eyes, throwing my purse and my bag from the pharmacy onto the small kitchen table before making a seat next to her on the couch.

“We did not fuck,” I stated.

“But you did something, right?” she asked, her eyebrows raising.

I nodded slowly, pulling my bottom lip between my teeth. She scooted herself closer to me.

“Well, what the fuck did you guys do?” she urged.

“Well, first, he taught me how to make chicken parmesan–”

“Y/n,” she interrupted, dramatically begging.

“We had oral sex,” I confessed with a sheepish smile.

Her bushy eyebrows furrowed at me.

“Wait, so he ate you out and you sucked his dick?”

I rolled my eyes at her raunchy language.

“Yes,” I sighed.

She stilled, her eyes boring into mine.

“Did he make you cum?”

The memories replayed in my head; the tightening feeling in my stomach, the shaking of my legs, the curling of my toes, his tongue; how could I have not orgasmed?

“Yes!” I practically screamed. “God, it was amazing.”

She threw a fist in the air.

“Thank fucking Lord, Y/n has finally got a guy to make her cum!”

I rolled my eyes, but it was true.

George was the first guy to ever make me cum. Who would’ve thought?

#george mackay #george mackay x reader #x reader fic #x reader #fanfic #fanfics #1917 #1917 cast #dean charles chapman

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laughing-with-god · 5 years

Text

Pen Pal Final (Part One of Two)

Trigger warnings; gore, death, yandere, unhealthy behavior, shitty writing

Words; 5.7k

“I don’t want your hand. Part of me wants to set you on fire and hold you while the flame consumes both of us, to eat your heart so I know that only I possess it entirely.”

Living with a killer was never on your bucket list.

Given most people never quite lived to tell the tale.

And as you watched Jungkook trail alongside your bookshelf, glossy eyes analyzing every book title printed on the aged spines, you couldn’t help but conclude that you shouldn’t be any different.

You were going to die at the hands of this man in your own home. This wasn’t up for discussion. It was only a matter of time.

Optimism was a trait your sister held, meanwhile it was not ever your forte. If this was a perfect story, the survival instincts mixed with the adrenaline of having a murderer in your home would kickstart a reaction. A reaction to live. A reaction to fight back. A reaction to escape.

Yet self awareness was also a blessing and a curse at times like this.

You were all too aware of your major disadvantage.

You were a freak.

Crippled by your own mental disorder.

Trapped by your own paranoia.

How does one flee when you are perhaps even more terrified of what is outside rather than inside? Inside your apartment, you only had to deal with one sociopath. Outside of your apartment, countless others roamed free. Either way, you were fucked.

You caught yourself releasing a dry sob as you flopped your lifeless body onto the sofa, bleary eyes already looking up at the ceiling in mock prayer.

Have you ever felt so doomed that you were beyond any plan of action? That you just knew from within the deepest parts of you that all means of recovering were utterly futile? So you just sit there, and let the fear and sadness rock you into a paralyzed state. Not even bothering to fight back...

In this moment, if Jungkook were to waltz over and slit your throat to paint your living room ruby red...you’d have no objections. It was your fate.

“Plum, I see you have a cookbook here. Should we try a recipe tonight?”

His voice shook you to your core. Not because it was ultra deep, husky or growl-like. But because it was pleasant to the ear, which was the most terrifying part. How can such a wicked person have such a delightful tone? Did god like being a trickster by giving the most fucked up people such good looks and voices, the perfect weaponry to reel in future victims?

A tear trialed down your cheek, your orbs refusing to leave the heavens (or ceiling that was blocking your life line to a high power) as more wollowsome self-pity rang in your mind.

You heard an incoming of footsteps, the rythameric sound thundering in your ears. They were heavy, and the brief memory of his weight being 150 pounds found itself popping up once more. He was big…

And all that weight was suddenly thrust down next to you, another and smaller mass being placed onto your lap.

“You never did tell me what your favorite meal was.” He rumbled, the vibration next to you being almost surreal. At a major risk of breaking into another pattern of sobs, you peeked down to see what was placed upon you. It was the opened cookbook, the killers’ hand flipping through the pages and revealing pictures of gourmet meals along with instructions. The book was halfway on your lap and halfway on his.

“I like Italian food. How about chicken parmesan? Or maybe some tacos?” He trailed off, the casualty being reminiscent of someone discussing the weather or last night’s game.

If you were bold enough, you would have slapped him then and there. The audacity to just act as if you two were going to seriously make a meal together. It was like a hell-version of I Love Lucy, if Lucy was stuck in a loveless marriage and Ricky was an abuser ready to strike if she were to ever slip up.

“Plum?” He asked, sounding confused on your silence. Totally unaware of the inner pandemonium occupying your attention.

Faintly, you heard him. But still remained unresponsive, not ready for another dialogue of any sort.

You wondered why he kept calling you that. Would it even be worth asking? Did he purposefully enjoy the sweet, overly sugary nickname and the shivers it sent down your spine? Did he know how childish and degrading it was to be called that? Maybe that’s why he used it…

More silence passed.

“Y/n. You’re starting to worry me.” This was said in a more firm dialect, a tad deeper and authoritative than his signature breathy sound.

You decided to heed the warning.

‘Don’t poke the bear~.’ A voice in your head sing-songed. Whether it was the work of a higher-power or your stronger alter ego finally making an appearance, you didn’t know.

You cleared your throat, hoping your voice wasn’t shot to hell. “Yes?”

“We need to figure out what we’re doing for dinner baby.”

Baby.

Sugarplum.

What was next? Kiddo? Honey-munchkins? Sweetie pie?

Anything that put you on a babyish level was apparently the criteria for Jungkook to call you by something other than your name. Perhaps he liked the idea of you being young and dumb….Unaware and innocent like a child?

But innocence was almost laughable now.

“I’m not hungry.” You mumbled.

A sigh was heard, one of disappointment. “Honey, you need to eat.”

You bit your lip.

Did you want to argue? No. You didn’t know his triggers and habits. For all you know, it could just take one wise comment before he’s strangling you and adding another victim to his figurative trophy case. Six became a scary number for you. Mental flashes of news anchors covering a story and labelling you the “sixth victim of the easter bunny” sparked a phobia of the number.

“Whatever you want to eat, I’m fine with.” You relented despite the stomach hurl that hit you after the words left your mouth.

Would you even be able to keep the food down?

“Okay then! How does a fancy mac n’ cheese sound?”

The weak must give into the strong.

You just nodded your head, the weight of it being almost too much to bear.

He snapped up and happily hummed, swaggering to your kitchen and declaring he needs to do an ingredients check.

Your fogged up orbs watched from your place on the couch as Jungkook whistled and opened your cupboards, swiftly inspecting everything that resided within them.

Black spots appeared in your vision.

The last thing you recall is Jungkook prying open your fridge before darkness stole your comprehension completely.

Your nostrils tingled.

Your tummy rumbled.

All that you were able to understand was the fact that you were very warm and something smelled very nice.

A heated cocoon surrounded your previously clammy frame, soothing the overworked nervous system into a pile of goo. You nuzzle your face closer into the fluffy cloud that your brain fails to identify what is most likely a pillow. Out of instinct, you lick your lips as more of that tantalizing aruma is wafted over to you. Nose and stomach working together to force your eyelids open, hoping to spot the object of your sudden hunger.

You were still on the couch. However you were now laid down with a blanket (which you recognized as having been from your room) tucking you in as a throw pillow was used to cushion your head.

As comfy as you were, the knowing that you had not fallen asleep like that caused you to jolt up in fear.

He had positioned you like that.

How could you have forgotten the killer roommate you have landed yourself with?

Were you really that idiotic to rest in the presence of him?

Or did you even fall asleep?

…..It felt more like you fainted while sitting down. Which could explain why Jungkook could’ve figured you fell asleep and decided to grace you with a blanket and pillow. There was no way you managed to lull off with all that dread and anxiety in your system.

“Sleeping beauty finally decided to wake up?”

His voice called out from the kitchen, where you suspected the smell to be stemming from.

You didn’t respond. Not knowing how to but also being too groggy to think strategically on how to foot the eggshells you had to walk on.

He emerged with two plates in hand, smiling in a way that showed off his rounded teeth and crinkled his puppy-like eyes. Whilst waltzing over, he said “I was really looking forward to cooking with you. But, you needed your rest so I understand. We always have tomorrow. You’re really adorable when you sleep you know? Even the drool…” His speech came to a halt when he plopped himself onto the floor below you, placing the duo of plates onto the coffee table.

“It was nice cooking after so long. I hope you like it. I put lots of thought into it.” A fork was handed to you.

You positioned your body closer to inspect the meal.

It appeared to be normal….smelled normal….

But could this be poisoned?

It would be foolish to consume something a killer prepared just for you. What is keeping him from plopping a lethal ingredient in there just waiting for you to slurp up?

Beside you, Jungkook was already wolfing his portion down. It was slightly revolting until you remembered that he had been locked up for some time now, factory-made cafeteria meals being the food he was costumed to.

So his meal was safe….but what about yours?

How could you guarantee that your meal hadn’t been tampered with?

He wouldn’t digest something deadly, so all you had to do was get him to eat something from your plate. Only after that, would you eat from it.

But how do you do that?

A disgusting idea popped in your head. An idea you had no choice but to act out.

“Jungkook?”

He snapped his head back at you, eager that you initiated a line of communication for the very first time in person.

“Can we feed each other? Just once….” You trailed off. God, the proposition sounded shady and awkward even to yourself. Yet you pleaded that he took the bait. If he was indeed as smitten with you as you had suspected, he would gladly take any affection he could get.

His jaw dropped, not enough for it to be comical but enough for it to be left slightly ajar.

Then he nodded, really fast like a bobble head.

You gathered some pasta on your fork from the plate belonging to you and hung it in the air, only for him to capture it with his mouth like a phraha a second later. Next he did the same to you.

After this, you concluded that if your food was deadly, then at least you took Jungkook down with you. You reluctantly ate the rest at a slow pace, surprised at the above average quality.

“Wanna watch a movie?” Jungkook excitedly suggested next.

You sighed and shrugged your shoulders. You lived to serve at this moment.

You had offered to clean up, trying to stroke his ego by stating that he was kind enough to cook and you should at least do your part. He blushed madly as you stood up on shaky legs and gathered the plates to take to the kitchen.

From your station at the sink, you heard the television start up which could only mean he was beginning the search for a film. You set the water at a lukewarm temperature with low pressure, wanting to take your time with the task and prolong your next interaction with him. As you slowly scrubbed circles over and over again on the same plate, your ears perked to any sound coming from the neighbouring living room.

The suspected ‘ba doom’ sound of the Netflix being turned on echoed in your tiny apartment. Being a homebody, you were a tad annoyed that he could just barge right in and make himself right at home. But you bit your tongue and let the iron liquid coat your tastebuds, a death wish only an utterance away.

You took about three minutes on each plate, forty seconds for the forks. You contemplated taking longer but didn’t want to push it anymore than you already have. With shaky hands, you dried off with a dish rag and slowly crept back into the living room (which was now illuminated by the pixelated screen of your humming television).

Jungkook was now innocently plopped where your laid body was prior, relaxed with one arm thrown back and the other holding the remote. His lengthy legs were spread out in a classic man spread, not obnoxiously so but enough to hint at his comfortability. He perked up at the sound of your incoming presence and like an eager pup motioned pathetically for you to take your place beside him. You did so without complaint.

The millisecond you took your seat, the muscular arm from behind jolted forwards to curl around your shoulders. The weight of the limb served as a warning and a blockade.

His cherub like face neared yours to the point of being able to feel the degree of warmth of his breath on your face. You refused to break eye contact with the list of shows and movies that painted the screen.

“What kind of movie do you want to watch?” The breathiness of his voice was even more intimate sounding with him so in your face like this.

‘Don’t poke the bear.’

“Whatever you want.” You responded, still not bringing yourself to make eye contact with his bottomless, glass-like orbs.

He turned his head away from you and tilted it, releasing a ‘tsk’ and scrolling through more options on the home page.

You watched with interest somewhat spiked as he sifted through the films. Just exactly what would an inmate wish to watch on his first day free from prison? Would he want to laugh and release the tension? Would he want to watch a romance to feed his undying hunger for affection? Or would he-

No way.

You watched as Jungkook’s search paused once he hit a certain movie.

It was a horror movie.

You turned to face him, eyes without a doubt blown out in shock.

He faced you, eyebrow quirked up. “You in?”

You didn’t say anything. You couldn’t say anything. You turned back to face the screen. Jungkook clicked the play button and thus you began to watch a film about a killer beside a real one.

It wasn’t until a scene of a girl getting her head bashed in, that Jungkook made a noise.

A laugh, actually.

He leaned over to your ear, as if you two were in a crowded movie theatre instead of your private home, and said; “Real killing isn’t like that….take it from me.”

You watched the ending credits begin to roll onto the tv.

Your emotions being an odd cocktail of half despair, half relief and a pinch of exhaustion.

Despair for it meant that you couldn’t just distract yourself with a movie now, you’d have to face your new guest. Relief because everytime the killer would murder someone, it would trigger you to cringe and stiffen due to the person whom was sitting right beside you. And exhaustion because...well, that one was rather self-explanatory. It was getting late and this had been the most human interaction you’ve had in a long time. You forgot how draining social interaction could be.

Jungkook wasted no time with turning the tv off. For a moment, with the tv dead and no more screams playing, it was just you two. Sitting in silence and darkness.

“Are you tired?” He asked, the lack of light enhancing his voice.

You risked a glance at him. The moonlight from the window illuminated the details of the sculpture that was his face. He was such an odd hybrid between a fresh boyish charm and the harsh brutality of manhood. For every sharp angle on his face, there was a rounded and plump aspect to even out the scale. It was like the very creator of him had bipolar tendencies at play, not being able to decide whether he should be a harmless neighbor boy or an arrogant stud. He was the product of a transitional period every woman goes through...from wanting a boy to a man. A harsh sting battered against your vertebrae as you couldn’t help but think, ‘which side where his victims fooled by? The raw sex appeal of a greek god or the clumsy, harmless child?’

“You look tired.” He inspected, without a doubt noting your lidded eyes. Jungkook had the ability to not be offended by lack of communication. He would happily carry on an exchange all by himself, filling in the blanks with ease. “Well, why don’t I wash up and we can head to bed?”

There was only one bed.

And Jungkook was very intent on sharing that bed with you.

Your eyes widened with fear at the context that he delivered between unsaid lines.

You were a woman with a much stronger and certified killer in your home, demanding that you ought to sleep together. Would it be smart to object?

No, not in the slightest.

But did you want to give in so easily? Maybe against all odds there was some sort of respect for you that he had, hidden deep behind the layers of insanity? A boundary even he wouldn’t push? Wouldn’t it be worth a shot if it meant that you could at least rest peacefully...without a butcher breathing down your neck?

‘Don’t poke the bear, don’t poke th-’ fuck it.

“You can take my bed.” Your meek voice offered. At this, Jungkook’s attention snapped to you at neck-breaking speed. Your blood ran cold at how rapid his previously doe eyes transformed into that furious gaze...a silent war-cry smothered within those inky irises….

“What?” He asked, voice dropping.

It was obvious he wasn’t pleased with your suggestion. But it was too late, if you could swallow your words back you would.

You wanted to cry.

That heinous stare was the farthest thing from the last sight you’d want to see before you die.

“I-I mean, I’m happy with the couch.” This was blurted out from your lips, surprising even you as instinctual damage control took over. “I’m sure you’d want your space and everyth-”

A gleeful giggle interrupted and you viewed with wonder as his face melted back into a lax expression of pleasure.

“Plum, you’re so funny.” he cackled delightfully. The arm around your shoulders made itself known once more by clasping harder at your docile frame. “The first thing I want to do after getting out of that hell hole is cuddle you in our little home.”

You froze.

He stood up, but the feeling of suffocation didn’t release it’s smothering hold on you.

“When I get out of the shower, I expect you in bed….waiting for me.”

And as if he knew this place like the back of his hand, he navigated quite easily to your restroom.

Like a victim of medusa herself, you remained sat still and shocked. Only movement being seen from you was the slight watering of your eyes in the form of a tear drop trailing down your cheek.

Faintly, you heard the familiar start up sound of your shower.

You snapped up and began pacing wildly as more and more tears joined the first.

The room began to close in on you with the vengeance of the devil himself. You weren’t sure if your heart was beating too fast...or not at all. It seemed to have a mind of its’ own at the moment. Your teeth decided to feast wildly on your bottom lip, viscous enough to draw blood and barely suppress your incoming cries. Panic was now bursting at the seams, a belated reaction that took this long to kick in.

“Fuck! What do I do? What do I do?” You stormed up and down the dimly lit room, feet patting almost as fast as your thoughts. “Think! Y/n think!” You whisper-yelled to yourself. As if your deductive reasoning skills needed some harsh belittling to finally start the job.

You at least had a couple minutes to yourself before you would have to face him once more. Surely you could come up what a strategy until then, right? You just had to think. Think. Think. Think!

You froze and faced the door.

The door that was the only entrance and exit to this lion’s den.

How you wished you could just blast through that damned gateway and flee like a bat out of hell. But you couldn’t…

Wait.

Your jaw dropped.

An epiphany struck…

You couldn’t leave the home.

But you could bring someone here.

Why didn’t you think of this before?!

911!

You nearly jumped up in joy, like a child who got what they wanted for Christmas.

You would just have to find your phone…

‘Okay okay calm down. Think. What were you doing before Jungkook came?’ You tried desperately to retrace your steps to relocate what possibly could be your last hope. You recollected life before his barging in, although that was only a few hours ago it already felt like a millennia had passed.

As the foggy puzzle pieces began to form, your eyes darted to the couch.

‘That’s right….you were reading before he came.’

With a new sense of urgency, you leapt to the sofa and feverishly dug through the cushions. It took a minute, for a second you weren’t sure if you were going to find it, but alas your search ended with a proud yelp as your hand managed to grasp at the missing phone.

Like an olympian whom just won his country a metal, you thrusted the phone in the air with a smile on your face and tears in your eyes, blown away at your own luck. With a renewed vigour, you unlocked your phone and hastily typed in your password (this was somewhat hard to do with shaky hands).

Your familiar homescreen glowed like a safe haven as it opened, sight so beautiful you could cry. You pressed the phone icon and waited for the keypad to appear. When it did, your fingers danced across the numbers.

‘9’

‘1’

“Just what do you think you are doing?” a growl pierced the air.

As if the device burned you, you dropped it. Heart sinking and face on fire, you turn and see Jungkook, leaning smugly against the arch leading from the living room to the hallway.

His face was stony and unreadable, eyes fixed on you as well as the phone. Pupils darting between you and the object every other second.

Your teeth chattered as you struggled to even get an excuse out.

Gracefully, Jungkook closed the space between you two and proceeded to pluck the electronic away from your pathetic claws.

He made eye contact. Searing and soul-baring eye contact.

Right before he thrust the phone onto the floor...stomping on it with all his weight, over and over again.

It wasn’t until your only way of communicating with the outside world was left in feeble metal smitherings that Jungkook was satisfied enough to stop the barbaric pounding.

He huffed and pouted his lips, “Sugar, I thought you were different.”

You cowered and kept your head low, not wanting to see his wrath up close.

“I expect you in bed darling. For real this time. No more silly games.”

Like an actor being told ‘cut’, he suddenly retreated back to the hallway, whistling a low tune as if his murderous persona was a second skin he can shred off with ease.

When you were left alone once again, you let your weak pile of bone crumble within themselves. You collapsed to the floor as a string of silent and dry sobs escaped your burned esophagus.

The sound to company your symphony of cries?

The water from the shower, that still had yet to pause despite no one being in it.

He had tested you.

And you failed.

Each person had their own version of heaven on earth.

Jungkook was certain he found his nirvana within you.

Your home was even more welcoming than what he had fantasized it to be whilst reading your letters.

Every trinket and photo you had was marveled at with great perplexity on his part.

He memorized every brand you used. From the types of garbage bags you got to the toothpaste you prefered (winter green over frosty mint). He wanted to be sure to get the right kinds when it comes time for him to venture out for you.

Although that will take a while, the press having to die down with his prison escape before he can comfortably go out. But when he can, he will. He wouldn’t want another Renjun incident on his hands, now would he?

For now, he was very much elated with the day-to-day he shared with you.

It usually began with him waking up beside you, an experience that he would never wish to have with someone else now that he’s had it with you. And could one blame him? What was the appeal of an average villager when compared to the refinement of an ethereal goddess? Even at the brink of dawn, Jungkook was a mere worshiper of your temple. When the sun decided to play with the smooth textures of your bedroom and eventually dance upon your form...he was breathless. Your skin shimmered like gold under its’ light, you sometimes shifting and groaning at the intrusion. Your strands a mess and your face slightly puffy and cherub -like. Weakened by the vital rem cycle, having no choice but to let Jungkook cradle you like the babe you were. If the angels decided to smile upon him that particular morning, you’d even nuzzle unknowingly into his chest.

After you awoke, is when the social behavior came into play.

Both you and Jungkook were not extroverted creatures. So in a way, you both could share a roomful of silence and still have no complaints to speak of. But gosh did Jungkook like seeing you flustered. Every morning he’d tease you about what you did the night prior; talking in your sleep, drooling, cuddling or even kicking and punching. The truth of these accusations mattered not, if it made you blush then Jungkook took it as a win in his book. Sadly, you weren’t the type to enjoy wasting time in bed. You’d jump up every morning and dash to the bathroom, not sharing Jungkook’s love of pillow talk. (At least this is what he thought this meant).

Next was breakfast. Most days Jungkook would make it. Other times he would plead (more like demand) you make it. The days in which he did so, the morning meal was rather elaborate and hearty. Waffles, pancakes, crepes, omelettes ect. He wanted you to be fed well, enjoying the melting of your features when you try his food and you couldn’t even deny the heightened quality. Other days, Jungkook wanted to eat something you made. You were very reluctant on this chore, resorting to a bowl of cereal or buttering some toast. Jungkook still felt so gooey and domestic nonetheless, complimenting your cheerios to milk ratio and taking over-dramatically big bites. You usually chose to do the dishes, Jungkook occasionally helping to fulfill a clingy desire.

After the meal was the morning to afternoon bit.

Jungkook liked watching shows in this time period. You would join him if you had no other needs to attend to. If you could, you would do laundry, cleaning, book organizing or anything really to avoid Jungkook. But sometimes it couldn’t be helped and you’d be forced by his side to watch a show or movie. You learned quick that he held a fondness for violence and romance. An odd mix that meant you would spend the first half of the day watching Kill Bill and the later half watching The Notebook. For either genre, he would have disturbing comments to add.

“He’s not even stabbing him right.”

“Ahh, Y/n we’re just like them, aren’t we? Except we have the better love story.”

Lunch followed.

Light and simple was the theme. Jungkook noticed that one of your favorites was grilled cheese, so this was a recurring meal on the menu. After that was afternoon lounging. You enjoyed reading while Jungkook rather draw. Often times, Jungkook would draw you reading.

He found you fascinating to study whilst you submerged yourself into other worlds. How your pupils would dilate ever so slightly when something shocking happened. How your lips would downturn when a character becomes distasteful. How your eyes would water when a tragic moment would unfold. How your nose would scrunch up with every cringey line.

It was every artists’ dream to have such a muse.

Jungkook would scramble to capture any expression you unknowingly released. Erase, erase and erase, over and over again until he did your face justice. Because there was no other enigma as brilliant as you.

Jungkook had himself convinced that the beauties of Aphrodite, Cleopatra and Marilyn Monroe were frauds with overzealous reputations about their magnetism and so called grace. Mere weeds compared to an exquisite rose such as you. Sometimes he felt too unworthy to be in your presence. Like you belonged in a masterpiece oil painting, another world that should be out of reach for scummy mortals. Yet at the same time, Jungkook refused to be starved of such a token.

He wanted to keep you safe in this little haven, away from the evil greed of the world that wished to taint you. May mankind only know of your pulchritude through drawings made by Jungkook. And even then they would have to rip it from his cold, dead hands. The last documentation of higher powers at work, occasionally sending one of their best seraphs down to blessed the cursed earth.

Supper was a joint effort.

Jungkook made sure that you would help make dinners with him, making it a mission to go through that old cookbook with you.

He liked making you do the majority of the work, if it were any other way then how exactly would he be able to back hug you while you cook? The only exception to this rule was when chopping or slicing was involved. Jungkook refused to let risk beseech you.

After dinner, you’d each tip toe around how to spend your evening.

Jungkook would push for talking and spending intimate time together.

While you would act extra lethargic, ‘yawning’ and slowing your movements. Half the time, Jungkook bought the act and let you rest. Other times, he would demand you talk to him over a cup of coffee or tea.

This was the general template for yours and Jungkook’s twenty four hour schedule.

It had been going for a week.

Heaven for him.

Purgatory for you.

Luckily, this wouldn’t last another week.

One of you couldn’t survive while the other did as well.

You two were living on borrowed time.

She was a woman of pride.

But pride was apparently the last thing one this woman’s mind as she staggered through the hallway, eyes carefully looking at each passing apartment number.

Eyeliner smudged, floral dress wrinkled and face pitiful; she was the personification of the infamous ‘walk of shame’.

If said shame was the lack of motherly love and maternal instincts.

Her nerves were high-strung (borderline neurotic) as seen through her paranoid eye shifts and watery hiccups.

She halted her rush when she spotted the familiar three digit numbers on a particular door. Skipping the etiquette of knocking, the lady whipped out a key and proceeded to open the door for herself.

When she entered the home, she slammed the front door closed before wildly dashing into the main area of the living space. Heading swinging from side to side, she observed every corner for any hint of life.

“Mom?”

The lady turned around at this and let out a cry of relief at the sight of you. She leapt towards you with arms outreached and pulled you into her chest like a mother hen. “Why haven’t you been answering my calls, Y/n?! I know I said some awful things and I’m so sorry but I can’t lose you too baby. Not after your sister. Please forgive me.” she sobbed.

Due to her nervous breakdown, the older was not able to recognize her daughter’s pale face and petrified gaze. Either that or she assumed it was do to their recent spat and the unexpected visit/wellness check.

“M-mom, get out now.” You looked seriously at her, trying to break through any realm of emotion and get her out. Your safety not being a concern so much as you wanted to spare the only family you had left. Jungkook was in the bathroom, but there was no telling how long that can last. Given he loves testing you.

“What?! What do you mean?!” Your mother shrieked.

“Listen, it’s not safe just g-”

“Is this my mother in law?”

Jungkook stalked forward from behind your mother. He carried a soft smile that did not reach his eyes, traces of a boyish charm long gone.

Your mother’s jaw dropped and a horrified screech came next, “Mother in law?!”

She looked at you for explanation. But you couldn’t say anything. You looked away with shame. Not shame due to the innuendo but shame due to what you know Jungkook might do to you later….

Your face must have told your mother a different story however.

Her features lifted up to make a face of anger, her status of sobriety under question as a few alcoholic drinks or so could very likely be to blame for a short fuse.

“What kind of girl are you Y/n?! Have you no shame?! Your sister would have never-”

It happened so quick.

Like whiplash.

You didn’t even know what happened until you felt warm spurts of liquid splash across your face.

Out of instinct you closed your eyes. And when you opened them, you saw a knife plunged into your mother’s neck. Jungkook was holding her body up as if to proudly display his new victim, refusing to just let her slump over to the ground.

Her neck splurged and goozed, the sounds echoing in your eardrums.

Whoever said that you can watch the light leave someone’s eyes as they die was lying.

No light left your mother’s eyes.

The spike of anger, confusion and terror stayed in those orbs until the very end.

(gif literally has nothing to do with anything lmao but it’s sasha fierce so sue me)

Omg this is so bad, might delete later bc honestly im not too hyped for this one. Srry for any mistakes, I’m super tired rn and I had a project to do, so I had to stay up a lil late than usual. ALSO my birthday is next Monday (@my mom for giving birth to me on a very inconvenient week day like wtf) and im gonna be chilling with some friends this weekend, so I figured its best to try to update now. THERES GONNA BE A PART TWO FOR THIS, trust me we still got like a handful of plot points to get through.

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magnoliawhetstone · 4 years

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h e a d c a n o n s, pt. 1

( tw: mentions of eating disorder )

When Lia is drunk/ tipsy she likes to act our favorite movie scenes—even if she’s alone. Most recently was the titanic scene (where she also got her knee suck in the balcony). She can quote all of the legally blonde courtroom scene and definitely knows the mean girls Christmas dance as well.

When Lia bakes, she has this small habit of humming or singing when she does so. Interestingly enough, for how involved baking is, she’d done it for so long she’s relatively good at shutting her brain down for a while when she does it. Or, at least, it takes all her energy to bake instead of overthink. It’s why she stress bakes so frequently and it’s also why she hums/sings when she does it. It’s mindless and she’d be embarrassed if anyone heard it–but she doesn’t always realize she’s doing it.

Surprisingly, while Lia’s favorite book is Pride and Prejudice, her favorite movie is Love Actually. She can quote most of the movie–as she can with most things she loves–and her favorite scene is when Hugh Grant dances to “Jump (For My Love)” by the Pointed Sisters. This is another scene she sometimes recreates when drunk.

Lia is not the biggest fan of Harry Potter. She doesn’t even know what house she’s in (its Ravenclaw but she can’t remember that). She never got into the series, never found it to be that interesting–magic didn’t quench her thirst the way some other books did…

Yes, that’s right. Magnolia Barnes was absolutely a Twi-Hard. You could not pull her away from these books–it was even worse since, at age 18, you’d think she would have had better taste. But no, she was #TeamJacob all the way. And yes, she did go see the movies when they came out. And yes, she did cry at the end. Don’t judge her.

Lia loves watching home renovation shows, though she literally has no reason to watch the show. She’s never had to do a home reno in her life. But she likes to imagine a day when she would–she thinks she’d be quite good at it. Sometimes about being able to use her hands in a meaningful way strikes her as soothing–its why she likes baking so much. She doesn’t have proof she’d be good at it, but she has a feeling she’d be pretty good with her hands if she can make delicate pastries so well.

Lia loves college football. Like absolutely adores it. Big Clemson gal, Tiger Rag is her jam. She remembered spending fall weekends at their Lake Keowee home so they could easily drive over to Clemson and go to a home game. Hates the Gamecocks with a passion. Rivalry weekend was her favorite time of year growing up–it was so full of excitement and energy. In fact, the most heated you might ever see Lia out of an argument is walking a Clemson football game. And yes she knows exactly what’s going on down on the field and if you ask her one more time if she’s sure–she will throw a piece of pie in your face.

Speaking of Clemson, Lia wanted to go there for college–get her degree in English. But she also had high dreams to be the baton twirler on the field–the one who dots the i with whatever family they’re celebrating that day in the pregame ceremony? Yeah, she wanted that. She thought that maybe she could mix the two worlds of hers, her two areas of interest–but no, that was never to be the case.

Lia grew up going to State fairs every summer–but never an amusement or theme park. She has never been to a planetarium, and her first trip to an Aquarium was with Beckett. Her first trip to a Zoo was with Ryder. So sure she’s ridden some rides, but it’s never been like most people have. It’s her dream to go to DisneyWorld one day and somehow, someway, stay in the Cinderella Suite. she’s watched enough youtube videos to know that not one gets to stay there but contest winners and celebrities, but still–a girl can dream.

While her peers took their vacations in Paris, Nice, Monaco and Italy, Lia’s father preferred north–like Amsterdam. Which, to be fair, was really very nice and Lia liked going. She even had a friend, Tess, who she’d hang out with when they would go on holiday as they called it. Tess was cool–she was into collecting model trains and really liked to read also. But then Tess’s parents sent her to boarding school after they had found out that she had been chatting with people online that she shouldn’t have been. Lia thought that sounded awfully harsh and hoped her parents would never do something like that to her. (Oh, irony)

When she’s sick, she doesn’t want chicken noodle soup, she wants wonton soup. Why? She doesn’t know, but she’s never liked chicken noodle soup. She thinks its the mushy carrots and celery. But wonton soup is essentially the same thing, but with a wonton and better flavor. She likes hers with spinach.

If toast is cut diagonal, she can’t eat it. Vertical squad for the win.

Big Bon Appetit fan. The quickest way to make her smile is to make her watch an episode of “one of everything” or “gourmet makes”. she might have a small crush on alex delany but we don’t talk about that.

Lia believe in aliens but not ghosts. She’s not big on conspiracy theories either–but she might be tempted by the stories at Denver Intentional Airport. She just can’t accept that humans are the only living things in the universe. That’s a lot for her–but she doesn’t go actively searching for them. Ghosts, on the other hand–she just never believed in them. Why would anyone want to haunt someone? Seemed like a weird power play to her. And no, despite what some people at the Malnati think, the moon is not made of cheese.

Lia is obsessed with spreadsheets. If you asked her what the dorkiest thing about her was–she’d tell you it was her planner and spreadsheets. She has a spreadsheet for probably every aspect of her life. her planner–which is really a bullet journal–is how she keeps track of things when she can’t get on her computer, but she has one for chores, her books, work, her bucket list, hell–even a bachelorette watch party she had a few years ago. She loves being organized.

Office supplies are her kryptonite. She absolutely loves blank notebooks and pens. She has a favorite pen for different things. Pentel RSVP RT Retractable Ball Point in black for everyday items, Staedleter fine tips felt pens for her bullet journal, sharpie pens for when she wants her notes to stand out, Zebra Mildliner for headers in her bullet journal or giving the pages shape. She is incredible persnickety on who can borrow what pen, and even keeps less important pens in her pencil bag just to lend out. And under very few circumstances will you ever see Magnolia Barnes using a pencil unless she has been required too. She hates the darn things.

Lia doesn’t swear–her mother taught her ladies don’t swear and while she doesn’t believe language as a gatekeeper for femininity anymore, the expectation still holds. So if you do hear her use a curse word, something is very very wrong.

Go to coffee order, you ask? Easy. Grande White Chocolate Peppermint Mocha with Blonde Espresso and Almondmilk and yes whipped cream. Sometimes she’ll get it with Raspberry instead. If its iced, it’s a tall and no whipped cream. However, she can also be bought over with a Venti Iced Guava Tea Lemonade with 8 pumps sweetener.

Lia has seen the Chatworth House–the house used as Pemberly in the Kiera Knightly version of Pride and Prejudice. While its not her all time favorite movie, she sure loves it still and begged her parents to take her one summer. They relented and it was everything she had dreamed of seeing.

It’s well known that Lia cannot dance–she often tells people she can only line dance and Viennese Walz, and the former only happens when she’s tipsy on PBRs.

Lia loves sleeping with windows open because she can’t sleep in silence. The white noise of the city helps relax her and and makes her sleep easier.

However, she must read in silence–any noise will distract her and she gets relatively grumpy if anyone interrupts her reading. She also adores reading by a window. She likes the way the natural lights illuminates the pages.

Words are some of Lia’s favorite things–she thinks they’re magic. So loves the way they sound and likes to think about the way they feel in her mouth and how they roll off the tongue. She does her best to take her time when speaking too–because if words are so important, its better to get them right the first time. (Although perhaps she would learn that getting it right may not always be nearly as important as saying something at all).

(tw: eating disorder) Not many people know this, but after the book incident, Lia has begun to go to therapy. Her counselor, Tonya, has been helping her try to work through what things are Lia and what things are Lia’s mother. They haven’t gotten to the eating disorder conversation yet–and Lia dreads it. because Lia has never used the term out loud–in fact, the only time it was ever spoken was by the doctor the night of the incident. She has never named it and technically never claimed it out loud–though she knows its true in her heart.

Lia hates pickles. Don’t know why, but she thinks they are gross. Also parmesan cheese.

Magnolia loves horses–perhaps not the extend of others, but she had grown up riding them and when she rode them, she always sensed a freedom that was just out of reach at home. Perhaps that was because who was always riding wit her, but she doesn’t like to dive deep into that. It complicates things (that maybe needed to be complicated, just sayin’). Leaving her childhood horse Butternut was like leaving a pet (something the Barnes did not have as Lia grew up). Butternut and her went on a lot of adventures together, usually along side Buttersquash and Jack. It was good squad.

Lia’ favorite dessert is Mrs. Whetstone’s peach cobbler–and she has pour her life’s work into recreating it since she never asked for the recipe before she left. Every time she tries, she feels like she gets a little closer, but its never quite right. But it does remind her of home and its one of those memories she loves dearly. Anyone who asks her, though, what her favorite dessert is, she’ll say cheesecake because nothing even compares in her mind to that cobbler and she doesn’t want something to try to do something that will never reach what she expects. And she does love cheesecake.

Favorite flavor of yogurt? Chobani Raspberry Lemonade. Its only available in the summertime, but boy is it worth the wait.

#tw eating disorder #[[homecoming queen?; headcannons]]#if any of these spur plots lmk!!!

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wrath-of-the-thunder-chicken · 4 years

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Triptych

Log:

Thursday breakfast: coffee, granola

Snack: second coffee

Lunch: burger

Dinner: poutine

Friday breakfast: coffee, granola

Lunch: warmed over Chinese

Dinner: not chicken strips, fries

Treat: ice cream

Saturday breakfast: toast, coffee, cheese curds

Snack: second coffee

Dinner: double patties Beyond Meat burger, fries, dry cider

Sunday breakfast: coffee, toast

Snack: second coffee

late lunch: Chinese mised soup

Dinner: mac&cheese plus

Notes:

Tried out yet another kind of simili meat patties from President’s Choice, and so far, that’s the one that gives the closest results to meat, at least in appearance. Unlike pretty much all the others, the grilling surface remained flat, so that the “crust” was even.

Being out of lettuce, and having some critical ingredients that were just on the spot, I decided to make not-guacamole. I say not guacamole, because I used lemon juice instead of lime, and it’s a cardinal sin. Also, no fresh cilantro. But it made a nice avocado and tomato mash, which held very nicely in the burger, and brought a lot of flavors, as well as much needed vegetables to the mix.

The poutine was a disaster. With the oil in the fryer being pretty cooked, I went with the oil method, as per the packaged instructions. Never again. Even adding time to the cooking didn’t help, while some were getting burnt, others were still soft, and white. Very bleh.

The sauce was also a waste: having found it a touch bland last time, I figured that switching the soy sauce might do the trick. No, it didn’t. It was salty, very dark, closer in appearance to a mole than gravy. Overall, I ended up mostly eating the cheese curds.

President’s Choice simili chicken strips are quite decent, even if they will never fool you into thinking that you’re eating chicken. Gambling that old oil was better that over waste, I fired up the old fryer, and went at it. For all the claims of deep frying being bad, it cooks significantly faster, and gives a much more satisfying result. So I’ll clean the beast up, and get fresh oil.

Beyond Meat continues to prove why they appeal to the chowing public; the patty is juicy without being soft, and it’s chewy, with a mouthfeel very close to what you’d get with ground beef. And with so little food in my body all day, the double cheese really hit the spot.

Just like with the Friday Night soup, if you put the Chinese leftovers that you’d eat together anyways in a pot, and heat it up with some water, you’ve got soup. No real need to add stock, there’s plenty of flavors to go around already. As for the mac, I tested out the classic “mac&cheese+wieners”, except that I used the vegetarian ones I had left, cubed and fried first, before adding to the mac, along with some pesto and grated parmesan. It’s good, and stayed creamy, so it’s a win.

Only one week to go, and I’ll be able to get a bit of meat in my diet again, if only to satisfy the occasional craving; those ads are really wearing me down :P

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hearts-hunger · 5 years

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Funny How Love Is || bxjxg

Summary: After a long day of failed auditions, Joe can’t stop thinking how he’s never quite good enough. Funny how love is always there to drown out doubt and remind him of how loved he is, especially by his two boyfriends.

Pairings: Ben Hardy x Joe Mazzello x Gwilym Lee || poly!borhap boys

Genre: Fluff, slight angst

Word Count: 4k

Warnings: None!

A/N: Hello lovelies!! I promised I’d give you some fluffy bxjxg by the end of the day, so here it is! That pic of Ben and Gwil on Gwil’s insta got me so soft that it actually kickstarted my dumb brain into writing for them again, and of course I had to write Joe in too. I hope you like it! ♡

Joe didn’t know exactly what it was that had made his day so horrible. Maybe it was the traffic, which he despised but usually tuned out of by calling one of his boyfriends. Maybe it was the fact that his phone had died just as he tried to call, leaving him stuck in the motionless car with no distractions. Maybe it was the same five songs that every radio station seemed to play, those top hits that he liked to dance to when he was tipsy but really would be happy never to hear while sober. Maybe it was the words of the casting director that kept echoing in his head without anything to drown it out, repeating over and over choice phrases that he’d been no stranger to in his acting career. We just don’t think you’re right for the part. You’ve got some good ideas but we’re going in a different direction. Sorry, Mr. Mazzello. We’ll give you a call when we decide.

Yeah, he knew what that meant. He’d get no such call, he could guarantee. Maybe it was arrogant on his part, but he’d thought that after landing Bohemian Rhapsody, casting directors everywhere would be begging for him to come audition for them. He’d found it was kind of the opposite; no matter how much money Borhap had made, Joseph Mazzello still wasn’t a big name in Hollywood, and people were looking for big names. Names that had made it onto more than one A-list movie in the past two decades.

He gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary - really, traffic was crawling, so he could have put the car in park - and took a steadying breath. One rejected audition didn’t mean his whole career was coming to an end. He needed to be patient. He needed to keep trying.

He needed to stop hearing that damn casting director’s voice on repeat, is what he needed.

He fiddled with the radio again, tuning it to the station that played oldies and actually played Queen pretty consistently. No such luck this time, though - David Byrne’s voice crooned out through the speakers in its clipped way, oddly grating to Joe at the moment.

He turned the radio off with a huff. “Yeah, I’m about to be a psycho killer if this traffic doesn’t start moving.”

He was ready to be home. It had been a long and disheartening day, and he was just ready to be home and lay on the couch in sweatpants and watch reruns of X-Files on Fox. Maybe have some wine, possibly take a long and boiling hot shower. Anything to self-soothe from having to submit to the mortifying ordeal of giving his all to an audition only to be rejected, yet again.

“Finally,” he muttered to himself as traffic began to move. He eased the car up to the speed limit after inching forward for nearly half an hour and felt some of the tension in his shoulders ease.

He got home over an hour after he said he’d be back, night starting to fall over Belgravia and easing the temperature down with a cool breeze through the darkening sky. Looking up at the second floor windows of the brownstone, he couldn’t help but feel comforted at the warm light spilling between the sheer curtains and onto the street below. Double checking the car was locked, he headed up the steps to the front door, straightening his shoulders so as not to immediately give away how tired he felt.

The sound of “Funny How Love Is” greeted him as he closed the front door behind him, drifting in from where it was playing softly in the living room. He put his keys and his wallet on the little catch-all table in the foyer as he closed the door behind him.

“Honey, I’m home,” he called.

“Oh, fuck you!” came Ben’s voice from the living room.

Joe gave a surprised laugh at the reply, a smile crossing his face for the first time all day as kicked off his shoes. He made his way into the living room and found Ben on the couch, intently playing Mario Kart.

“That’s one hell of a way to greet your boyfriend,” Joe teased.

Ben gestured hopelessly to the screen. “I was in first place and Toad ran me right off.”

Joe saw Ben was playing Rainbow Road, and he could understand his boyfriend’s frustration. “So, that wasn’t directed at me?”

Ben looked mildly panicked. “God, no, sorry.” He gave Joe a smile. “Hi, honey. I’m glad you’re home. Come here.”

Joe sat next to Ben on the couch as he paused the game, tossing the controller aside in favor of taking Joe’s face in his hands and giving him a few gentle kisses.

“There,” he said. “Better?”

Joe couldn’t help but smile. “Much better, thank you.”

He propped his feet on the coffee table and leaned his head on Ben’s shoulder, enjoying the closeness. “You can keep playing if you want. Gotta show Toad who’s boss.”

Ben laughed, a warm and comforting sound, taking the controller in hand again as he started another race.

“And if you can’t beat Toad on Peach Beach, I’m officially disowning you,” Joe added.

Ben snorted. “Okay, dad, thanks.”

Joe was content to sit in silence and watch Ben play, listening as he sang along with Queen in his warm voice.

“Funny how love is everywhere, just look and see,” he sang almost out of habit. “Funny how love is anywhere you’re bound to be.”

Joe closed his eyes and breathed a sigh of relief, sinking into the sound of Ben’s voice and the feel of his warmth. Ben was practically a furnace; he usually wore his dozens of soft hoodies not because he was cold but because he was a very tactile person, enjoying physical touch and substituting with sweatshirts when he couldn’t have any.

“So… how did your audition go?” Ben asked as the track switched to “Seven Seas of Rhye”, distracted by the video game but still wanting to engage with him.

Joe started to say that he didn’t want to talk about it, but he was saved from answering Ben as Gwil appeared on the stairs. Gwil smiled as he came down to the living room with a hoodie in hand, the corners of his eyes crinkling behind his round glasses.

“Thought I heard you come in,” he said. “How was your day, love?”

“Fine,” Joe said, trying for nonchalance. “Do you have a headache?”

While Gwil usually wore his glasses closer to bedtime and both Ben and Joe adored it, thinking it made Gwil’s sharp-featured beauty look a bit softer, they’d also learned that he wore them when he got headaches.

“No, thankfully,” Gwil said. “But my contacts were bothering me a bit.” He tossed the hoodie to Ben, who paused his game to pull it on.

“I couldn’t find the one you asked for,” Gwil said. “So I just grabbed one of mine.”

Ben gave him a smile. “‘S perfect, love, thanks.”

Gwil watched Ben go back to the game with a gentle smile on his face. That was Joe’s favorite part of being in a relationship with the two of them, seeing how they looked at each other like they hung the moon.

Joe warmed as that same gentle affection was turned on him, Gwil studying his face with a shadow of concern in his own before holding his hand out to Joe.

“Come on into the kitchen with me, Joey.”

Joe sighed and took Gwil’s hand, standing from his spot next to Ben on the couch. He almost wanted to stay with the blonde, knowing that Ben wouldn’t ask him questions about his day while he was focusing on the game. Gwil, though, had no such distractions, and Joe felt the weight of his admittedly vague answer between them.

“Tea?” Gwil asked, filling the kettle at the sink.

Joe took a seat at the bar. “Sure. Thanks.”

“There’s dinner leftover if you want some,” Gwil said, setting the kettle to heat on the stove. “I wasn’t sure if you’d eaten, since you came home later than you said. I tried to call but it went straight to voicemail.”

Joe ran a hand over his face. “Yeah, my phone died right as I left and I got caught in traffic. What’d you make?”

“It was Ben, actually,” Gwil said with a smile. “Chicken parmesan. I can heat some up for you if you want.”

“That’s ok,” Joe said. “I might have some later.”

In all honesty he felt kind of queasy at the thought of admitting that he hadn’t gotten the job. He stared blankly at the kettle on the stove, the casting director’s voice kept ringing in his ears. You’re just not what we’re looking for.

“Joe,” Gwil said.

He looked up to see Gwil taking three mugs down from the cabinet. “Hm?”

Gwil’s smile was colored with a bit of sadness. “I asked you what kind of tea you wanted.”

“Oh, sorry. Um, whatever you’re having. I don’t care.”

That wasn’t necessarily true; Ben and Gwil both knew Joe’s favorite tea was Darjeeling, and Gwil fixed it for him despite his answer. Joe felt a strange kind of ache as he watched Gwil make tea for the three of them, humming softly to himself, wiping up a spilled drop of water with the sleeve of his cozy black sweater. It was the same kind of ache he’d felt before they were together, when he’d found himself wanting to be held and comforted by the tall Welshman but not knowing how to ask.

“Where’d you go?” Gwil asked, giving him his tea.

Joe drew his mug close. “What do you mean?”

“You were miles away just then,” Gwil said. He smiled. “Just wanted to see where you’d got off to.”

“Nowhere,” he lied, running a hand over his face. “Just tired, that’s all.”

Gwil looked like he was about to say something, probably pushing back on the “just tired” excuse, but Ben’s voice cut him off from the living room.

“Did you make tea?” he asked.

“Yes, love,” Gwil called back. “Yours is ready if you want it.”

A moment later, Ben came into the kitchen; he took a seat next to Joe at the bar, pulling the sleeves of Gwil’s hoodie over his hands.

“Thanks,” he said as Gwil handed him a mug.

“My pleasure,” Gwil said, leaning on his elbows on the counter close to them. He bobbed his tea bag a few times, the water turning a honey color as the herbal tea he always drank seeped in.

“Say, you didn’t ever tell me how your audition went,” Ben said, nudging his shoulder lightly against Joe’s.

“You were a little distracted,” Joe said, trying for a joke and also trying to avoid the question again.

Ben smiled. “Yeah, but now I’m all yours. How was it?”

Joe wrapped his hands around the mug, feeling the warmth of it against the sudden chill of anxiety that made its way through him. “Um...” He felt a vague fight-or-flight feeling kick in, and searched for a way to get out from under the question without it being woefully obvious.

“Yeah, I’ll tell you all about it in a minute,” he said, standing. “I’m just gonna… go to the bathroom real quick.”

Oh, good job, Joe. He mentally kicked himself as his boyfriends gave him looks that mixed confusion and concern.

“Is everything ok?” Gwil asked.

Joe rubbed the back of his neck like he did when he was nervous, immediately making himself stop as soon as he noticed he was doing it. It was his biggest tell when he was lying or upset, and if they hadn’t already seen right through him like he was sure they had, his hand on the back of his neck was a dead giveaway.

“Yeah, fine.” Again, he tried for a joke. “I had to pee before I left, and sitting in traffic didn’t do me any favors. I’ll be right back.”

Before either of them could say anything or he could embarrass himself further, he made his escape up the stairs to the master bathroom. He could have gone to the guest bathroom downstairs, but he wanted a whole floor’s difference between him and his boyfriends who were surely talking about him now that they were alone. He splashed cool water on his face, glancing up at his reflection; he was red-cheeked with embarrassment, and he only flushed deeper when he thought of going back downstairs again. They’d probably take the hint and not ask him about it again - doubtless they’d guessed he didn’t get the part - but he’d still made such a huge deal about it that they were sure to walk on eggshells around him.

As he turned off the faucet and buried his face in a towel, he heard quiet bickering coming from the other side of the bathroom door.

“He obviously doesn’t want to talk about it,” Gwil was saying in a hushed voice. “Maybe we should just let it drop.”

“Maybe something’s really wrong,” Ben insisted, his tone matching his boyfriend’s. “Maybe it hasn’t got to do with the audition at all.”

Gwil was quiet for a moment. “You don’t think he’d hide something important, do you?”

Joe could picture Ben shrugging in response.

“He’s been like this since he walked through the door,” Ben said. “I’m worried, Gwil. This seems like a lot of fuss for one silly audition.”

“I agree,” Gwil said. “But maybe you’re right. Maybe it’s something different.”

Joe sighed. Why couldn’t he have just admitted he didn’t get the part and gotten it over with? He felt bad that he’d whipped his boyfriends up into a state of panic with his behavior; he knew it was childish. To have to go and tell them that it was indeed just the failed audition that had gotten him this upset, and not some life-threatening news worthy of a whole charade like the one he’d put on, was nearly too much to bear. He couldn’t hide in the bathroom forever, though, and after a few steadying breaths he went out into their bedroom.

Ben and Gwil broke apart from where they’d been talking closely together on the foot of the bed, trying to act as if they hadn’t just been in intent conversation about him. He almost smiled as he shrugged off his jacket and went to hang it in the closet; it was a small comfort that they were as bad as he was at acting like everything was fine. He stayed in the closet longer than he needed to, trying to buy himself some time or wait for them to say something.

Their hushed voices started up again, and Joe heard Ben say he was going to ask.

Gwil took Ben’s hand as he stood, trying to get him to sit back down. “Wait, Ben, just - ”

“Joey,” Ben said in his regular speaking voice, the baritone colored with concern. He gave Gwil’s hand a reassuring squeeze before letting it go and coming over to the closet.

“Please tell us what’s wrong,” he said.

Joe brushed past him and went to take off his watch, setting it on top of the dresser. “Nothing’s wrong,” he said, feeling a flare of frustration. Why couldn’t they have just let it go?

“Come on, sweetheart, you’ve been acting out of sorts since you came in the door,” Ben said. “We’re just worried about you.”

Joe huffed and carded his hand through his hair. “Fine,” he said. “I didn’t get the part, but you already knew that. That’s what’s wrong. Now can we please not talk about it any more?”

The words tasted bitter on his mouth, and now that he’d said them instead of just implied them, they couldn't be taken back.

“So…” Gwil ventured, “it is just the audition?”

“What, that’s not enough?” Joe snapped. He didn’t like that he was talking to his boyfriends like this, but he couldn’t seem to get a hold of his frustration and shame.

“No,” Gwil said, a bit surprised at Joe’s tone. “I mean, not getting a part is never fun, sure. But you’re not usually like this about it.”

Joe gave a derisive laugh. “Yeah, because I’ve had so many failed auditions that we know how I’m going to react to them.”

“That’s not what I meant,” Gwil said, pained that he’d wounded his boyfriend further. “We’ve all had plenty of failed auditions before. What I meant was that even out of the three of us, you’re usually the one who takes it best.”

That was true, and it was probably most of the reason why they were pressing him so hard about it this time. Gwil would brood and mull over his audition for hours on end if he didn’t get one, trying to see what he’d done wrong; Ben could get downright sulky if he got turned down. Joe, though, was always the one to crack a joke, to say that he hadn’t wanted the part anyways, to say they were probably going to go with someone else because the industry had a thing against redheads. He’d rarely taken a loss like he had this one, and he didn’t blame his boyfriends for being overly concerned.

Joe ran a hand over his face, annoyed at the sting of tears he felt.

“What was it about this one that made it so hard, Joe?” Gwil asked. “I don’t remember you saying you wanted it that badly, but I’m sorry if you did and I forgot.”

“No, it’s ok,” Joe said tiredly. Truth be told he hadn’t been very excited about this part, but at this point he figured he’d take what he could get.

He almost laughed. Of course, he’d been scraping the bottom of the barrel and had still come up empty. That was par for the course, wasn’t it?

“I just…” He shook his head. “Maybe it’s time to throw in the towel, you know?”

Ben and Gwil both frowned, surprise and confusion warring for dominance in their expressions. Ben sat at the foot of the bed again next to Gwil, both of them waiting patiently to hear what Joe meant even as they worried over him. Gwil put his hand over Ben’s to let the younger man know that it had been good to get Joe talking about this.

Joe sighed. “It’s been months since awards season, and I haven’t gotten any jobs.”

“That’s nothing to worry about, though,” Gwil said. He gave a wry smile. “You don’t get jobs lined up like that unless you work for Marvel or something.”

“You did,” Joe protested. “Both of you got jobs as soon as you got off Borhap.”

“Not big ones, though,” Gwil said. “Top End’s only playing in Australia, for god’s sake.”

“And I’ll only be in Six Underground for ten minutes, tops,” Ben agreed. “It’s not like I’m headlining my own box-office hit.”

“Still,” Joe said, unconsoled. “They’re still jobs. You’re still actors that people want to cast. I’m just…”

You’re just not what we’re looking for, the casting director’s voice filled in for him. That had been the constant, through all of it - everybody else could get a job, but Joe was never what anybody was looking for.

He hung his head. “Maybe I’m just not good enough.”

If he’d expected wild protest from his boyfriends, he didn’t get it. For a split second he had the dreadful feeling their silence was agreement, but no sooner had the thought crossed his mind than he felt Ben’s arms around him, pulling him close. He let himself be held, burying his face in Ben’s hoodie.

“Oh, Joey,” Gwil said, running a hand over his back and gently kissing the parts of his face that weren’t hidden against Ben’s chest. “That’s not true and you know it.”

“Why can’t I get a part, then?” he asked, his voice muffled by the fabric of Ben’s hoodie.

Gwil sighed. “I dunno, love. All I know is that every one of those movies would have been lucky to have you. You’re incredibly talented, Joe. You just haven’t found the right part yet.”

“And everybody who said no to you has no idea what they’re missing,” Ben agreed. He pulled back to look at Joe’s face, brushing away the few tears that Joe hadn’t managed to keep at bay. “Okay?”

Joe nodded. “Okay.” He knew he wouldn’t be fully convinced until he landed another job, but for now it was enough to lean on his boyfriends’ confidence in him.

“Sorry about…” He sighed. “Everything. I should have just told you.”

“That’s ok, love,” Gwil said. He brushed back Joe’s slightly mussed hair. “Why don’t you have a bath, hm? Wind down a bit before bed, how does that sound?”

“Only if you two join me,” he said.

Smiles surfaced on both of their faces.

“I think that can be arranged,” Gwil said, at the same time Ben said “do you even have to ask?”

Ben and Joe got comfy pajamas laid out for the three of them while Gwil drew the bath, leaving the bathroom lights off. They came into the bathroom greeted by the scent of rose bath salts and the warm glow of the candles they’d bought for just this purpose. Joe wasn’t even in the bath before he felt the tension leave his tired body, his boyfriend’s gentle hands helping him out of his clothes and into the warm water enough to erase a lifetime’s worth of worry. Gwil got in behind him and Ben across from them, their legs tangled together in the middle. Joe leaned back against Gwil’s chest as Gwil comfortably wrapped his arms around him. Ben traced up and down Joe’s thigh with a gentle touch.

“Okay, Benny?” Gwil asked.

Ben smiled. “Perfect. Though you both owe me lots of cuddles when we get in bed.”

Both Gwil and Joe gave a soft laugh.

“Come here, you,” Joe said, leaning forward to kiss Ben. The feel of Ben’s mouth on his and Gwil’s warm hand on his back made Joe almost lightheaded with happiness. He rested his forehead against Ben’s for a minute, drinking in the closeness of the two people he loved most in the world, the two people who showed him tirelessly that he was good enough, even when everything else was telling him he wasn’t.

He leaned back against Gwil and kissed his scruffy jaw, feeling Gwil’s smile.

“Thank you,” Joe said. “Both of you. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

Gwil twined his fingers with Joe’s. “Lucky for you, you’re stuck with us.”

Ben took their entwined fingers in his hands and brought them to his lips, peppering them with gentle kisses and tracing circles over their knuckles with the pad of his thumb.

“Gwil and I love you so much, Joey,” Ben said against their hands. “You’re perfect, you know? Absolutely perfect.”

Joe’s cheeks pinked and he turned his face to hide against Gwil. Gwil chuckled and kissed his temple.

“It’s true, love,” Gwil said. “You are perfect. And pretty soon some casting director’s going to see that as plainly as we do, I promise.”

“I love you,” Joe said. That one was just for Gwil, and he knew it; he drew Joe closer and gave a sigh of contentment.

“I love you too, sweetheart.”

Joe lightly nudged Ben in the ribs with his heel, drawing a giggle from the blonde as Joe had hoped it would. Ben was very ticklish, and his innocent laughter was one of the most beautiful sounds Joe had ever heard.

“I love you,” Joe told him. He couldn’t help but smile at Ben’s grin.

“I love you too, Joey,” he said. “Even more than Mario Kart.”

Gwil gave a huff of a laugh. “Charming.”

“It’s okay, Gwil,” Ben said. “I love you more than Mario Kart too.”

“Did I ever mention how irresistible your skills for romance were?” Gwil asked.

They all laughed and settled closer to each other, limbs tangled in the warm water, Ben’s skin fairly shimmering in the gold light, Gwil’s big hands belying their true softness as they traced over whichever parts of his boyfriends he could reach. Ben hummed “Funny How Love Is” in the companionable stillness, and Joe felt it was rather appropriate. Funny how love is everywhere, just look and see. Funny how love is anywhere you’re bound to be.

Even if he never got cast again in his life, he’d still gotten Borhap, and that was the only that mattered because it was what brought him to Ben and Gwil. Tomorrow brings love in the shape of things. Even if tomorrow brought audition after failed audition, it would still bring him another day with the two loves of his life. It would still bring him to loving and being loved in a hundred different ways by the two people who made everything right in the world, no matter what.

story taglist: @sunflower-borhap-boys @mimibarnes

forever taglist: @tv-saved-the-teenage-girl @dashlilymark @hazah

#me delivering on a fic promise in a timely manner?#less likely than you think but wow i did it today!!#i hope you guys like this one!!#ben x joe x gwilym #bxjxg #ben hardy x joe mazzello x gwilym lee #ben hardy x gwilym lee x joe mazzello #poly!borhap boys #borhap boys fluff #borhap boys fanfiction #polyamory #ben x joe #ben x gwilym #gwilym x joe #hardzellee #harlee #hardzello #maddie writes stuff!

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fics-for-my-heart · 5 years

Text

Tinder Boy (b.h) (p2)

Summary: From train rides and weird left swipes to just a tiny white lie

Word count: 5772

Warning: some language, poorly written angst

A/N: This is part two of a (now) three part series. A really appreciate all the comments and such you guys have shared. And the encouragement in this piece being so long. Please keep it coming.

Masterlist

Part One Part Two Part Three

It’s been three days since you met Ben Hardy on the train. Three days of texting, one late night phone call, and a question you needed to ask him but weren’t sure how. You’d been juggling the topic back and forth all day and we’re currently pacing your room.

He’d come here for some press events for his new movie and had been going almost none stop since he left the station. But he’d still text you, and even checked to make sure you made it home safe the night you went out with some friends, and teased you about your hangover the next morning.

The problem? Your mom wouldn’t stop. Every time you were even looking at your phone she was at you. “Is that the boy from the station?” “Y/N. I’m serious. Ask the boy over for dinner would you.” “He was handsome, and don’t think I didn’t see him carry your bags!”

Finally, you just snapped. “Okay mom, fine. He’s my boyfriend!” You slapped your lips closed and your heart fell out of your ass.

“Oh.” She responded. Taking a moment to process what you said with a clap of her hands. “OH! I just knew it! I could tell by the way you were looking at him.” You rolled your eyes at her exaggerated remark. “Y/N you simply must invite him to dinner now.”

So, here you were, pacing your room, waiting to hear from him after what you hoped wasn’t too sketchy of a text.

You: Ben?

Benny: Hey! I have two more interviews and I’ll be able to chat! X

You: Cool, cool. Could you call me when you’re done? I need to talk to you.

You: It’s uh, nothing too serious.

Time seemed to slow. You knew that the interviews lasted anywhere from thirty minutes to an hour. Hopefully not too long though because you weren’t leaving your room till you spoke to Ben. (Also, you really really needed to avoid your mother.) After a few more minutes, you flopped onto your bed and closed your eyes.

The shrill sound of your phone ringing woke you with a start. Benny was across the screen and you quickly gathered yourself before answering.

“Hello!” You hoped he couldn’t tell you’d been asleep, or that you were suddenly nervous about hearing his voice.

“Hello, hun. Everything alright? Your text was a bit... cryptic.” You could hear people in the background, and the sound of doors shutting.

“Are you busy? It’s really not that important. It can wait.” You were on your feet again. Stomach in a twist and your fingers pushing your lip between your teeth.

Another door closed and it was silent. Ben didn’t speak for a moment, but you could hear him moving stuff around. “Nope. Not busy. We just officially wrapped the interviews and I just got cozy in my hotel room. So. Are you okay?” There was concern laced through is words and it made your heart tighten.

“Well. Yes and no. Um. Remember how my mom wouldn’t stop talking about you? Going on and on about how handsome you were and how cute we would be together?”

“I tend to have that effect. Keep going my ego is loving this.” He laughed, and you did too.

“Oh, sush. Before I continue, I need to know something.” You paused a moment, hearing him “uh huh”. “Was that offer of if I need a fake boo a real offer?”

“It could be. I wouldn’t be opposed.” He sounded so casual about this, while you were still nibbling at your lip and lowkey freaking out.

“Okay, so just know you can say no. But….Uh….I kinda told my mom that you were my boyfriend and now she insist even more so that you come to dinner.” Your eyes squeezed tight as you waited for his response.

He giggled. Actually fucking giggled. “Y/N, I’d love to be your fake boo.”

You couldn’t help the sigh as relief washed over your entire body. “Really? Oh Ben. Thank you. Are you sure it isn’t too much?”

“I’m sure. I don’t have anything planned for the rest of the month so I’m free. And I wouldn’t mind spending more time with you. I can extend my stay at my hotel no problem.”

Before you could process what you were going to say you spoke. “You can stay here. I’m only here for four more days and there’s no need to spend money to stay somewhere.”

“If you’re sure, it’s a deal. So, what’s the plan?”

———

The sound of the cafe wasn’t enough to calm your nerves. You and Ben had agreed to meet at a cafe downtown to decide how you would go about this scheme. He’d said he was on his way, only ten minutes out. But that was almost twenty minutes ago. Your head jerked around every time the bell chimed on the door, and your mind started replaying your conversations. What if he changed his mind and you never heard from him? What if he was really just in it for one thing and was just playing you? What if- Your thoughts were cut short by a hand on your shoulder.

“Y/N?”

You looked up and relief washed over you. “Hi, Ben!” You stood up and hugged him.

“I’m so sorry I was late. I walked here, and there were more people than I expected who wanted to stop for pictures.” He removed his hat, running a hand through his hair as he watched your face.

“You’re fine. You’re a movie star and people love you.”

He blushed a bit, but before he could respond, someone came and took his order. “So.” He started, turning his full attention to you. “How are we going to go about this, boo?”

You shook your head and gave a laugh. “Well, we can start with some rules if you’d like? I hear that's how most of these fake relationships start.”

“Alright.” He pursed his lips. “First rule. If we go out to eat I’ll pay.” He put his hand up as you went to protest. “Nope. It’s a rule. Next rule please.”

You hummed as you thought. “No overdoing the PDA. My dad would have a cow. Mom might gush over some kissing. If you’re comfortable with that.”

Ben nodded. “I don’t mind. We don’t even have to if you don't want to.” You nodded and he continued. “We should take some photos together, maybe?”

“Yes. My mom has already asked to see some. I told her you had them all because my phone reset.” You laughed, holding your phone up to take his picture. “Perfect.”

“I already took one of you.” He blushed again, turning his phone to show you a picture of yourself, drink in hand, looking out the window deep in thought.

You could feel the heat rising up your face, so you quickly changed the subject with a nod. “We need a backstory. I’ve kinda thought of one.” He nodded and you continued. “So, I’m going to school for public relations. We could say that we met five months ago when you came in for a meeting and our relationship bloomed from there?”

“I like it. We can say that I thought you were so gorgeous that I forgot how to breath.” The way he was looking at you, mixed with the seriousness of his voice made your heart flutter.

“I like it.” You smiled at him, watching his eyes light up as he smile back. “Okay. So. Tell me a little about yourself. Anything you feel is important for a significant other to know.”

The two of you spent almost two hours talking. You talked about broken bones, pets, past relationships, and siblings. He told you about filming for his movies, how close he still is with the cast of BoRhap, and about his upcoming film. You told him about your studies, hobbies, and favorite books. Anything the two of you hadn’t shared the days leading up to being here.

Eventually your mother called, interrupting a conversation about music. “Honey. Where on earth are you?”

“I thought I told you, I’m picking up Ben.”

“Ope! I forgot! Oh boy! I need to make dinner. What does he like better, spaghetti or chicken Parmesan?”

You repeated the question, then answered with Ben's response. “He said either is fine, but hasn’t had Chicken Parmesan in a while.”

“Okay, I’ll get it started. It should be ready when you get here. Love you!”

“Love you too.” You said, hanging up. “We should probably get going. She’s starting on dinner.”

“Alright. I need to stop and grab my bags and check out and then I’m good to go.”

You drove Ben to his hotel, joining him up to his room to help with his bags. Once he checked out, the two of you made your way to your house.

By the time you pulled into the driveway, you looked over at Ben. “It’s not too late to back out.”

He placed his hand over yours, lightly rubbing his thumb over your knuckles. “Nope. Let’s go, love.”

“Mom? We’re home!”

“In the kitchen!”

Your stomach grumbled loudly as you made your way close to the kitchen, earning a laugh from Ben.

“It smells amazing!” You said, stepping aside. “Mom, this is Ben.”

She spun around, her face lighting up. “Oh! Hello! It’s nice to meet you!” She came over and gave him a big hug. Then stepping back to look at him and realization took over. “You’re that actor! I’ve seen you on tv. Y/N you didn’t tell me he was an actor!”

“I didn’t think it was that big a deal.” You shrugged, giving Ben an apologetic smile as your mom kept smiling at him.

“It’s nice to meet you Mrs. Y/L/N. Y/N has told me so much about you.” He kissed her cheek and she blushed a bright red.

“You are too sweet, I wish I could say the same about you though.” She gushed, turning just in time to see you dip your finger in the sauce. “No no! Dinner is just about done. Go get Ben situated and it’ll be ready.”

“Did you get the guest room fixed up?”

She flicked her wrist, “No, he can stay in your room. You’re both adults.”

You gave Ben a wide eyed look and he just shrugged with his eyebrows slightly raised.

“O..okay. Yeah, that’s awesome. Thanks. We’ll be down in a bit.” You quickly walked toward the door, grabbing Ben’s hand and leading him to the steps. “You can totally sleep in the guest room if you want.” Your voice was a whisper as you pushed your door open.

Ben closed the door while looking around your room. “It’s up to you. You could give me a pillow and blanket and I’ll sleep on the floor.” He gave you a reassuring smile as he sat on your bed. “Your mom seems incredibly happy that you’re in a relationship.”

“Yeah.” You replied softly, turning to move some things around on your dresser. “It’s been a while. She’s always on my case about me ‘not getting any younger’.”

“My mom is the same way. Every time we talk she wants to know about my relationships.

“That’s how mine was,” you joined him on the bed, sitting cross legged facing him. “That’s partly why I snapped.”

“Let’s stop at my moms on the way back.” He joked.

“Hey if this goes well, why not.”

A knock at your door caused you to both jump. “Dinners ready!”

Dinner went by smoothly. Your parents asked all the typical questions about Ben. He continued to compliment your mom on the food, and talked with your dad about sports. It was nice to have a family meal and not hear about your lack of relationship. And it was nicer to see them getting along with Ben. But there was a twinge of pain in your chest that this was pretty much a lie.

“Y/N?” Ben’s voice pulled you from your thoughts, his hand was over yours. “You alright?”

“Yeah, sorry I was thinking about an assignment I have due before break is over.” You lied, smiling and forking the last bit of food into your mouth.

Your mom shook her head. “Always a busy bee. I said Angie is coming over tomorrow with the kids. Will you help me bake some cookies?”

“Yeah sure! I miss the little stinkers.” You piled your fork and knife on your plate, looking around the table. “I’ll wash up, if you all are done.”

While you did the dishes your parents and Ben talked in the living room. Just as you were finishing up, a pair of arms wrapped around your waist and a chin came to rest on your shoulder.

“Your mom’s behind me.” Ben whispered in your ear. His breath sent a shiver down your spine that you hope he couldn’t feel.

“You two are so cute. Your father and I are going to head to bed. Love you!”

“Love you too mom!” You smiled, Ben nuzzled his head further into your neck. He stayed that way even after she was gone. “Sleepy?” He nodded. “We can go to bed too if you want.”

He let go of you, let you dry your hands then softly took one in his hand and led you upstairs.

“Can I take a shower?” He asked, picking up some clothes from his bag.

“Yeah, it’s down the hall to your left.”

You quickly changed and got comfortable in bed with a book. When he returned your eyes almost bugged out of your head. He was just wearing a pair of sweatpants, his hair slightly damp. He glanced around the room before looking up at you. “Do you have an extra pillow and blanket?”

“Shoot. Sorry. I meant to get them for you. Uh. You can sleep in the bed if you want. It might be a bit odd if my mom comes in and you’re on the floor.”

“If it’s fine with you, sure.” He smiled, walking around to the other side of the bed. “You parents are really nice.”

“I hope they didn’t embarrass me too bad.” You scoot a little, not that you needed too really.

“Your mom pulled out a baby book and showed me a picture from where you cut your own hair in third grade.” He wiggles around a bit before pulling the covers over himself and grabbing his phone.

Your jaw dropped. “No. You’re lying.” He had a huge grin on his face as he turned his phone around, showing you your third grade class picture. “Oh. My. God. Ben. No. Delete that!”

“But you look so cute!” He pulled his phone away as you reached for it. “I think you did a decent job!” He was laughing now as you reached over him.

“I hate you.” You groaned, reaching down and digging your fingers into his side. He erupted in a fit of laughter, rolling around trying to get away from you.

“S..st..stahahahp!”

You stopped, keeping your hands at his sides. “Will you delete it?”

He took a second to catch his breath before laughing and nodding. “Yes. Yes. Just please don’t tickle me anymore.”

You moved back to your spot, picking your book back up. “No promises.”

“Rude.” He poked your leg, making himself comfortable again.

“Will my reading bother you? I can turn the light off.”

“ ‘s fine.” He locked his phone and rolled over, facing you. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Ben.”

——

When you woke up, your pillow was harder than normal, and warmer than normal. You reached up to touch it only to have a hand stop you.

“Don’t do it.” Ben said, lightly kissing the top of your head.

“Oops. I didn’t mean to roll over on you.” You didn’t plan on moving though.

Ben moved his phone to the other hand and placed the one around you on your back. “It’s fine. It worked actually because your mom came in earlier to see if we were awake. You should have seen how cute she looked when she saw us like this.”

You groaned. “I’m sorry she’s being weird.”

“Nah it’s fine. There is something you should see though.” He laughed nervously. He tapped on his phone for a moment before holding it down to your level.

“Ben hardy seen with mystery woman?” Was across the screen with photos of the two of you waiting for the elevator at his hotel, driving away and even one at the cafe.

“Oh boy.”

“Joe sent it to me, and I quote ‘excuse me sir you have some splainin to do’ with a gif from I love Lucy.” He swiped off the photo to show you the message.

You rubbed a hand over your face. “You just responded with a wink face. Oh lord.”

“Eh. I’ll tell him eventually. You should see the WhatsApp chat. It’s just the boys sending eye and tea emojis. I had to turn the notifications off.” He laughed, you could feel the vibration in your cheek, followed by a small grumble sound.

You sat up, taking in his bed head with a smirk. “Hungry?”

“God yes. I was waiting for you to wake up.” As soon as you moved he was up out of bed. He slipped a hoodie on the held open a robe that was on your chair.

“Slow down buddie.” Your face was hurting from smiling at how weirdly excited he was.

“I love breakfast and your mom said she’s making French toast.” He practically dragged you down the steps.

Breakfast was, per usual, amazing. She had some fresh fruit to go along with the French Toast and cool whip. When Ben finished his second plate he gave a pleased sigh and rubbed his belly.

“Mrs. YLN, I have to say I think that was better than my mom’s.” His eyes widened. “Don’t tell her I said that.”

“Your secret is safe with me.” Your mom responded, she reached over and took your plates. “Dear, I want to start baking around noon. Your sister will be here around three.”

“Sounds good. Do you need us to do anything?”

“Nope, I sent your father to the store so the two of you are good to spend the next few hours how you like.”

Ben smiled. “Got any movies?”

“Dude. We have an entire wall of movies. Dad’s been collecting them since before I was born. The basement is like a little movie theater.”

The two of you went to the basement, chatting about movies along the way. It wasn’t anything fancy, just two comfy couches and a big screen TV. The part that amazed Ben was the bookshelves full of movies.

“Wow. You weren’t kidding. I don’t know if I have time to choose one.”

“We still have three days.” You plopped down on the couch watching him skim the shelves. “We can come back down tonight and spend the next two down here.”

“Sweeeeet.” He looked a bit more before stopping. “What’s Spirited Away? I’ve seen a lot about it but never seen it.”

Your mouth dropped. “Only one of the best movies ever.” You jumped up, making grabby hands. “Sit. We will watch this first.”

You put the movie in, quickly getting it started before turning the lights off and sitting back on the couch. “Y/N.” Ben said softly as the beginning music started. “Wanna cuddle? Just, ya know, in case your parents come in.”

“Uh, yeah. Yeah, sure.” Your heart was fluttering as you fitted yourself into the space under his arm. He smelled good, and was warm. You definitely would miss this when everything was over.

“Let’s fuck with the boys too.” He laughed, pulling your leg over his, snapping a picture with the title of the movie. He sent it to their snap group chat. “That’ll really bother them because I still haven’t responded to-,” his phone buzzed. “Damn. Joe works fast.”

He opened the snap to a picture of Joe with his face super close to the camera. Across the screen was “COME ON WHAT'S HAPPENING!?!?”

You shook your head, using it as a way to push yourself a little closer to him. You could feel his chest moving as he laughed. Snapping back with “watching a movie bro”.

“You’re going to drive him crazy.”

Ben shrugged, wrapping his arm tighter around you and putting his phone down. “He’ll be okay for a few more hours.”

Aside from the occasional question here or there Ben was pretty quiet. You looked up once, thinking he was asleep, only to find him wide eyed at the tv.

“That was so good. Now I see why those soot sprites are so popular, they’re adorable!”

“Right, it was one of the first Studio Ghibli movies I watched.” You patted his chest, rubbing your face lightly against him before getting up, his arm following you till you were out of reach.

“You mean there’s more? Alright. We have to have an entire marathon of them.” He nodded his head as he spoke, opening his phone and laughing. “Look at this.”

You snapped the dvd closed and walked over to him, taking his phone. It was a picture of Rami from Joe. He was looking at a computer with a magnifying glass. “We will find out boy.”

“Wow, are they always this weird? Oh! I should send them a selfie.” You looked at Ben for approval.

The smile on his face grew bigger as he pulled you into his lap. “I like your thinking.”

Holding the phone up, you made sure to get Ben’s head over your shoulder. “This should help.” You added with a tongue face.

“Oh yes. Perfect.” He lightly kissed your shoulder before releasing you.

Before you could respond, your mother called for you.

“You wanna join us?” You were still sitting on his lap.

He thought a moment before shaking his head. “I think I’ll take a nap. But save me some cookies.”

“Will do sweet thing.” You laughed and patted his cheek before hopping up and heading to the kitchen.

——

“Which do you want to make next?” You asked your mom, sliding the tray of chocolate chocolate-chip cookies into the oven.

You mom skimmed her recipe book. “What about peanut butter? It’s been awhile since we’ve made them.”

You gave an excited jump. “Those are my favorite.” You dug around in the cabinet. “Uh. We don’t have any peanut butter.”

“Rats. It was on the list I gave your father.” She wiped her hands on her apron while shaking her head. “He forgot to get more noodles too so I’ll run back out. Is there anything you can think of?”

“Nope.” You glanced at the ingredients you had laid out on the kitchen island. “I think I’ll make some brownies.”

“Sounds good.” She gave you a quick kiss, hung her apron up and headed out.

After starting your ‘70s playlist you got to work. Dancing around and singing while mixing everything up. Once the cookies were done you placed them on the cooling rack, then prepped the square pan for the brownie batter.

Hooked on a Feeling was playing, and of course you had to sing along. “I-I-I-I-I'm hooked on a feeling. Do-dodo-dooo. I'm high on believing. Da-dada-daaa. That you're in love with me.” You shook your hips to the beat of the claps while pouring the brownie batter. “Lips are sweet as candy. It's taste stays on my mind. Girl, you got me thirsty. For another cup of wine.” When you placed the pan in the oven you spun around, nearly falling over. “Jesus Ben!”

He was leaning against the door, a smile on his face. “Didn’t aim to scare you.” He stepped in, swiping his finger through the brownie bowl. “Mmm. That’s good.”

“Thank you.” You turned to see him eyeing the cookies. You stepped beside him, bumping him with your hip. “We can share one. They’re still hot though.” You added, handing him half of one.

He was looking you in the eyes, and his smile made your heart tighten. He still had lines on his face from the pillow too which added to the softness of it all.

“Did you have a nice nap?”

“I did. What are you about to make now?”

You stepped back to the cookbook and shrugged. “Mom had to run out to the store but should be back soon. You can pick something if you want.”

He joined you, his arm hitting against yours as he flipped through the pages. “There’s a lot in here. Wow.”

“Yeah, mom started it when Angie was little. Every year they would add a new recipe, and when I was old enough we added two. It kinda became a family tradition.”

He was giving you that soft smile again, but you avoided his eyes by dusting some flower off the counter and into your hand. “How about Cinnamon Roll Sugar Cookies? This sound good.”

You clapped your hands together. “Alright. First things first, the cookie dough.”

Ben was very helpful. He would get the right amount of ingredients and helped mix them together. He even mixed up the cinnamon mixture. When the brownies were done he got them out for you and placed the cookies on the sheet and stuck them in the oven. But when he stepped back beside you he started laughing.

“What?” You looked up and him and pinched your brows together. Your hand came up and wiped at your face which only made him laugh harder. “What is so funny?” You groaned.

He lifted his phone. “Hold on hun.” He was still giggling as he turned it around. On the screen was a photo of you, face pinched together in annoyance, and right across your cheeks were smudges of flower.

“Really?” You glanced at the back of your hand to find flower all over it. You looked up to meet his gaze, his eyes crinkled at the corners.

“If it helps, you still looks gorgeous.”

Inside, you were melting at his words, but you kept your face as serious as you could. “Ben. Darling. Delete the photo.”

He shook his head. “Nope. I actually really like it. What are you doing?” His eyes grew wide as he watched you dip your hand in the flower.

“You’re missing out on all the fun, Benny.” You tried to sound innocent as you pulled your hand from the bag, observing the absurd amount on your hands. He backed away, circling the other side of the island while still looking at you. “What’s the matter? Afraid of a little flower?” You flicked your hand out, a flower cloud hung in the air for a moment and when it cleared you lost your mind laughing.

Ben let out a “pff” sound, loose flower floating in the air. He had a nice splat of it over the lower part of his face. “Oh. You’re going to pay for that!” He raced around the island, arms out to grab you, but you dodged. “What’s the matter, love? Afraid of a little flower?”

“Don’t you dare!” He was reaching into the bag now. “We’ve already made a mess! No!” He was coming at you again, hand nice a white. You ran behind the table this time. The two of you bobbed back and forth before he bolted around to you, trapping you in the corner.

“You’ve got something on your face.” He said softly with a devilish grin on his lips. “Let me just…” He brought his hand up, but before he could touch your face you started tickling him. “NO!! That’s play-playing dirtyyyy!” He was laughing but he took his flower hand and rubbed it all over your head.

“I just washed that!” You yelled, hands speeding up at his sides. You could feel his hands at your waist. “Wait! No! I’ll pee my..” Too late. He started tickling you back. You withered around trying to escape him. Hands clutching his shirt to hold you upright. “Ben! O-o-okay! Truce!” You dropped your head low, tears in your eyes from laughing so hard.

“Good to see I’m not the only one who is ticklish.” He was looking down at you with his hands on his hips, panting.

You peeked up, hands wrapped protectively around your waist, equally as breathless. “We’re going to have to clean this up before my mom gets home.”

“No more tickling?” He raised his arms.

You gave him a cautious look before nodding, stepping to him and giving him a hug. His arms wrapped tight around you as he rested his head on yours. “No more.” You whispered, subtly breathing him in. “For now.” You giggled kissing his chest before, reluctantly, freeing yourself from his arms.

The two of you work easily around each other to clean up. He swept the floor while you cleaned up the counter. Just as you finished the cookies beeped and your mom came in with her hands full.

“Oh! Thank you Ben.” She sighed as he took the bags from her. “It smells nice in here. Did you guys make the cinnamon cookies?”

“Sure did. Ben, wanna put the icing on them?” You asked, licking some from your finger as he nodded.

“Darling. You’re an absolute mess.” Your mom said once she looked at you. “How did you get so much flower in your hair?” Ben snorted

Not even turning to acknowledge the sound, you shrugged. “Eh. You know how messy flower can be.”

“Go take a shower, flower. Your sister will be here soon.” She laughed as you kissed her cheek.

“Babeee.” Ben wined when you reached the door. His lower lip was out and he was giving you a puppy dog look. You raised your brow at him and he tilted his cheek at you. “Don’t forget me.”

You laughed, taking the few steps to him and tiptoeing up to press your lips against his soft cheek. “Sorry, hun.” You kissed him once more, because it just felt right, then turned on your toes to go shower.

——

After your shower you tossed your flower covered clothes in your hamper. You added Ben’s clothes from yesterday as well as his sweatpants he had placed on top of his bag. On your way down the stairs you could hear Ben talking.

“He’s definitely become a mentor to me. He actually texted me the other day and told me he saw the trailer for my new movie.”

When you entered the kitchen, he was standing at the counter chopping mushrooms. You stopped at the door, admiring him and your mom standing together talking.

“That’s awesome. I always knew they were kind. I was watching Live Aid and I remember the excitement of seeing them walk out.”

“That was an exciting way to start filming. Brian and Roger were both there and it was nerve racking as heck, but an absolute thrill.” He picked up the cutting board and walked around your mom, dumping them in the pan. “It’s an experience I’ll never forget.” He still hadn’t seen you when he turned around, his attention went right to what your mom was doing.

“It’ll be fun stories to tell your grandchildren that’s for sure.” She laughed, handing him the unions she’d just chopped. When she looked up at you she winked, turning to take over the stove.

You finally announced your presence. “Hey hon, I’ve got some of your clothes that I’m going to wash with mine.”

He smiled, walking over to kiss your cheek. “Thank you, love.” He pecked your cheek once more and whispered. “You smell nice.”

You laughed and rolled your eyes as you made your way to the laundry room. “I’d hope.” You ignored the soft pat on your butt.

As you loaded the washer you couldn’t help but smile as your mom and Ben’s conversation continued. The soft way he had looked while she spoke warmed you heart. Hearing her tell stories to someone so interested and the gleeful look in her eyes made you happy.

But at the same time, the reminder that this was all a lie was causing your insides to sour. You couldn’t lie to yourself about the fact that you were definitely feeling something for the green eyed beauty. Maybe it was the fact that he was helping you out. Or the way your stomach filled with butterflies when he called you love. Or how when you touched his feeling lingered.

So many thoughts were running through your head that you didn’t realize you weren’t alone.

“Y/N?” You dad spoke, causing you to jump.

“Jesus.”

“I’m sorry hon. I just wanted to tell you your sisters here. You alright?” He stepped closer, trying to get a good look at your face.

“I’m alright. Just got distracted.” You gave him a smile. “I have another internship this semester and I’m just overthinking it.”

“Hey.” He turned you around to face him. “We are so proud of you. You’ll do great.” He pulled you into a hug, kissing the top of your head.

The sound of the door opening pulled you guys apart. “Thanks dad. I’ll be out in a second.”

When you joined everyone in the living room, your nephew, Asher, was wide eyeing Ben with his mouth open. “You’re. You play Angel in X-men! Mom! He plays Angel.”

Ben was absolutely beaming. Your niece, Elliot, was hiding behind your sisters leg, but the moment she saw you she ran right around Ben and jumped into your arms.

“Oh my sweet girl I missed you.” She was squeezing your neck and kissing your cheek.

“I mwiss you tuw.” She squeaked. Her little hands pushing your cheeks together. “You so pwety.”

“Not a pretty as you, El.” You kissed her little nose and turned to your sister. “Hi Ang.”

She wrapped you in a hug while whispering in your ear. “What the fuck bro?”

When you turned back around, Ben was on the couch with Asher, listen to him talk very enthusiastically about how even though Angel was a bad guy he was his favorite character. The way Ben was listening to him, his complete attention on this hyper child, brought that now familiar feeling to your stomach again.

“Excuse me.” Angie pulled you onto the couch, her attention on you. “Spill. When did you nab Ben Fricken Hardy.”

“Well.” You laughed, occupying your hands by playing with Elliot’s wild hair. “It’s kinda a funny story actually.”

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#ben hardy #ben hardy fic #ben hardy fluff #ben hardy x you #ben hardy x reader #ben hardy fanfic #ben hardy imagine #ben #tinder boy #my work

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