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#birds taking baths is so cute

lijojo · 10 months

Text

genshin men as one-night stands

premise: after a blurred night of passion, you try to leave your one-night stand's house. how do they convince you to stay?

tw: suggestive, minors dni

Spoils You Rotten

wakes you up to the smell of pancakes and coffee. usually, when you have one-night stands, you usually are quick to change and book it. but the smell of pancakes was just so heavenly, you let curiosity get the best of you.

when you get to the kitchen, you're welcomed to the sight of him in a frilly apron, flipping pancake batter on the pan. he hums to himself until he turns around to see you, gaping at him as if you'd just seen a ghost.

"good morning, love. do you want me to run the bath now? i know you're probably a little sore from yesterday. i have some scented candles in the cabinet, although i'm not sure which one you'd prefer so i wanted to wait for you to get up so you could choose."

"what—" you gulp, trying to process the sight before you.

he tilts his head, puzzled. "is something the matter, love?"

"i'm—i'm just surprised, is all," you try, "i didn't peg you as the type to have...um...one-night stands."

he chuckles, sliding the pancakes onto a plate. "i don't."

he turns to you, his eyes locked onto you. "you're not a one-night stand. i fully intend to get to know you better. now, i'd pick up that jaw off from the floor, dear. you're going to let the flies in."

snapping out of your bewilderment, you close your mouth.

"good. now, would you like to take a bath? the muffins should be done in ten. i can bring your breakfast over to you in a bath tray when it's ready. and maybe after..." he gives you an unexpected smile. "i can massage all your sore parts?"

zhongli, alhaitham, diluc, tighnari, kaeya, albedo

Will not physically let you leave the bed

you literally can't move. not even when you try. when you wake up, you find yourself in a bear trap. you're legs are tangled with someone else's their arms locked around your waist in a vice grip. instead of chirping birds, you hear the thudding heartbeat of their chest resting below your ear.

when you try to maneuver out of his hold, his arms only tighten around you more. he groans lowly in your ear, shifting a bit.

"what's the hold up?" he murmurs into the crown of your head. "stay."

so much for sneaking out unnoticed.

you stiffen at his morning voice. it's unexpectedly raspier than you'd expected. he takes the opportunity to kiss your forehead tenderly, a lot tenderly than a usual one-night stand would.

"i have some errands to run." it isn't entirely untrue. surely, there must be something you need to do today.

he stares at you for a long second before huffing. "five minutes won't hurt, those errands can wait."

"wait but—"

before you can brace for it, he's already turning on his side and taking you along with him. he nuzzles his nose into the crook of your neck, leaving a trail of open-mouthed kisses.

"you weren't thinking of leaving right after a night of intimacy, right?" he mused. "i thought you enjoyed last night. i certainly did."

you flushed at the memories. as much as you wanted to leave as you'd planned, it was awfully comfortable in his embrace. it was warm, soft, and welcoming.

"stay for a little longer, okay?" he cooed into your ear, pulling the covers over you. "at least, long enough for round two."

scaramouche, cyno, thoma, kaveh, itto,

Finds excuses to make you stay

the moment you make any sign of leaving, he's already calling for you to help him with something.

you try getting out of his grasp first thing in the morning? he's asking for a kiss on the cheek to wake him up, he can't get up without it. picking up your clothes off the floor? he's already offering you an extra change of clothes, not to mention helping you put it on. he even smiles at your flustered state. getting ready to leave? he's tugging your sleeve, offering his many amenities at home that are seemingly much better quality than yours: his cleanser, his cute headbands, his moisturizers.

and you can't say no. not when he's giving you those eyes. so you end up staying.

in a blink of an eye, you find yourself suddenly helping him smooth out the outfit he asked you to choose for him, hands running down his torso. leaning towards you, you can feel his eyes digging into your skin.

"thank you, sweet thing," he says, pressing a kiss on your nose.

"it's no problem," you mumble. "but i really—"

"how about staying for a cup of water?" he offered. "you know how important it is that you drink water first thing in the morning. it's supposed to be good for your skin. digestion too."

"well, alright—"

"and while we're at it, what about a movie? i have some classics i've been dying to watch and it's always better to watch with somone else."

you end up staying wayyy longer than you expected doing the small things: sorting through books, doing face masks, watching halfway through a movie, eating breakfast together, helping him look for butterflies on his front yard, getting the mail together. all while the two of you exchange jokes.

by the time it's well into the afternoon, you finally snap out of your daze, realizing the time.

"you just noticed?" he grins. "how cute. well, thank you for putting up with my antics, sweet thing."

he kisses you softly on the mouth.

"think of this morning as an advertisement for the other mornings to come, whenever you want to stay the night again. you won't regret it."

kaveh, itto, childe, ayato, kazuha, venti,

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celestialowlbear · 3 months

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𖤣.𖥧 Flowers for You 𖥧.𖤣

Pairing: Halsin x Reader / Tav

Summary: Halsin admits his feelings for you.

Warnings: Fluff. Kissing. Yearning. Admission of feelings. Sex is implied but not described, so 18+ just to be safe.

WC: 1700

A/N: This fic is inspired by the amazingly sweet artwork by @pani-artz found here! Please give your love and check out their other art. 💕

This one got away from me a bit, but I’ve been obsessed with the idea of Halsin in bear form giving Tav flowers and obsessed with this art! Just a cute little cheesy feelings admission fic for ya’ll. I hope you enjoy! 🥹

𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘ 𖤣.𖥧.𖡼.⚘

You let out a long sigh, your eyes tired from studying the map. You were trying to figure out the shortest path to a village over a mountain pass, but the surrounding craggy terrain was making it difficult.

You stepped away from camp for some peace to ponder the routes. Everyone was vocal about their opinion on the fastest way, through varying levels of danger and difficulty, and it seemed like the discussion wasn’t going to end anytime soon.

The bickering began to give you a headache, and you knew you wouldn’t be able to make a clear decision while frustrated.

You rested your head against the tree you were sitting up against, pondering the options and trying to figure out how to get everyone to agree on which way to proceed.

You closed your eyes, trying to focus on the tranquility of the woods around you, hoping it would ease your mind.

You honed in on birds chirping and flitting between branches. A stream trickled nearby, crystal water pouring over glossy stones. The scent of wildflowers and grasses tickled your nose.

Your heartbeat slowed, your mind clearing.

Your eyelids felt heavier, your body relaxing into the soft earth beneath you, the smooth bark of the tree cool against your back.

You unwound further, the tension in your head leaving. Your thoughts began to wander, fantasizing of a comfortable bed and hot bath.

You imagined sinking into warm water, your aching muscles needing the relief.

A pair of large hands slide over your shoulders, beginning to knead the stress away. A low whisper at your ear, lips at your neck, the hands moving lower to caress you.

Someone else is in this bath with you, and the person takes the form of Halsin. He’s there, his golden hair down and wet, holding you close to him, kissing you with passion and urgency. Your hands wander over the broad expanse of his chest, memorizing every scar.

This exact fantasy plays in your head every night as you lay in your tent. You’ve been trying to keep these feelings at bay, but it was getting more and more difficult as the days passed. You were falling for the kind druid. How could you not?

You haven’t felt this way in a long, long time. These feelings don’t come easy to you, but somehow everything was easy with Halsin.

He was always so thoughtful, so understanding. He doesn’t hesitate to heal you, check you over for wounds. You often spoke late into the night, talking of past adventures like you have been friends for centuries.

You couldn’t help but think, or hope, that he felt the same about you. You have been hesitant to make the first move, not wanting to make a fool of yourself. You have resided yourself to fantasies, at least for now.

Heavy footsteps startled you out of your daydream. You froze, eyes snapping open, lumbering steps drawing closer.

You peeked over the map, scanning the forest around you. Twigs cracked and bushes rustled as something large made its way toward you.

You slowly reached to your side where your dagger was sheathed, staying completely still otherwise, holding the map up with your other hand.

A massive bear head emerged from the brush, golden eyes immediately locking with yours.

Adrenaline pumped through your veins, gripping your dagger, sweat beading at your forehead. If you stood still, maybe it wouldn’t perceive you as a threat. You swallowed, waiting for the bear to move first.

The bear stared right at you, and a familiar deep, rumbling grunt of your name came from the bear’s mouth.

You blinked a few times. Did you just hear your name?

Halsin.

It was Halsin.

You couldn’t help but let out a relieved laugh, slumping back against the tree.

“Halsin!”

You released your dagger, setting the map down next to you. “You startled me!”

“I apologize, it was not my intention to alarm you. I often forget this form can be intimidating.”

Halsin’s deep timbre floated through the air, resonating in your head.

The adrenaline left your body as Halsin lumbered fully into the clearing.

“Don’t apologize, I was lost in my thoughts. The quarreling in camp was beginning to give me a headache.”

Halsin made a huff that sounded like a chuckle if a bear could do such a thing.

“That is exactly why I went roaming, myself. The wind, the trees, and the birds all offer cures that medicines or other concoctions cannot. Only out here can you achieve pure harmony and clear one’s mind.”

You always loved the way Halsin waxed poetic about nature. While others may scoff, you listened and agreed wholeheartedly. You admired his passion.

Halsin shifted on his massive paws.

“I also wanted to make sure you were faring well. You left camp abruptly. I followed your tracks.”

You felt a flush of embarrassment, realizing you may have stormed off a little more dramatically than you thought.

Also, Halsin was following you?

“I don’t mean to intrude on your solitude but…”

Halsin tilted his massive head back, motioning to a bush behind him.

“I was foraging for medicinal herbs to resupply my stock and found something I hope you’ll enjoy.”

Halsin turned away from you momentarily.

You sat forward, wondering what he was doing.

He bent his head below the bush, turning back around to face you.

In his mouth was a bundle of wildflowers in different colors and variety. Each was different and vibrant in its own right.

Heat crept up your neck, blushing your cheeks.

Halsin took a few large steps toward you, placing them gently at your feet.

“These are…for me?” You questioned, hoping you weren’t misinterpreting this gesture.

Your vision flitted from the flowers to him. You were always in awe when he was in wild shape, witnessing how he harnessed the power of nature and extended his strength into a physical embodiment of it.

Though he was a beast, when you looked into his eyes, it was still him.

His gaze softened as he nodded, watching you gently pick up the bundle, admiring the gorgeous assortment.

“These flowers produce a calming tea when dried and prepared correctly. It is a favorite recipe of mine, one that I tend to make for myself when I’m feeling overwhelmed. I hope I could show you how to prepare it. Also…”

Halsin paused, something tender flashing in his ursine eyes.

“Their exquisite beauty reminded me of you.”

Your heart leaped in your chest at his bold admission.

You smiled, your headache now long gone. “You…really think that of me?”

You’ve spent so long fighting, beautiful is not something you’ve thought of yourself in some time. Hearing Halsin say it with such sincerity stirred your heart in a way you haven’t felt before.

Halsin took a few steps back from you, his stare not leaving yours.

“The most brilliant of sunrises or the most magnificent hues of a sunset do not compare to you.”

Suddenly, leaves whipped around, and Halsin’s bear form was bathed in golden light. You watched as he transformed, slowly standing upright as the fur fell away and revealed the man underneath.

He held out a large hand down toward you, offering to help you up.

You took his hand, calloused and warm, and he pulled you up with ease.

“Halsin…” you started, your heart feeling as if it might burst out of your chest at his heartfelt words.

“I cannot lie to you. I wish to spend more time with you and see no better time to start than now. Your friendship means a great deal to me, but I long for more. I could not wait longer to tell you.”

Halsin’s hand squeezed yours lightly.

“I believe you do as well. Unless I am misguided. Tell me now, and I will step away.”

Halsin was not a daft man. He catches your stares or the way your cheeks bloom a deeper color when he speaks to you. He notices how you stand closely to him on the battlefield, often putting yourself in harm’s way to protect him without a second thought.

You were unlike anyone or anything he’d experienced in his long life. You were everything to him. He finally felt like he was in the right headspace to admit it, and give you his full attention and heart if you’d want it.

He knew you had your burdens, though. The tadpole in your brain, trying to be the leader that everyone needs, trying to solve every problem and save every person. He would understand if you said no, and would continue to stand by your side as a friend.

Halsin was gazing at you with so much admiration, that you felt as if you were floating. You picked up a hint of hesitancy, as well.

The large man was putting his heart on his sleeve, the flowers representing the start of something beautiful and new in chaos, and it was up to you to accept it.

“Yes.” You whispered, “I want that and so much more. You are not misguided.”

A large smile graced his features, his eyes shining.

Halsin leaned down, lightly touching his forehead against yours, bringing your hand to his chest, and you could feel the fast thrumming of his heart under your fingertips.

“I am happy to hear it.” He whispered, his lips close to yours.

Halsin let out a soft sigh, bringing his free hand to cup the side of your face.

“I have been wanting to express my feelings to you for a long time.” His voice was low. “May I kiss you?”

You nodded, squeezing the stems of flowers in your one hand, while your other was still enveloped in his against his chest.

“Yes,” you breathed. “Please.”

The words barely left your mouth as his lips captured yours, fervent and passionate, better than any dream.

His lips were soft and purposeful, both of you pouring your long-held emotions into the dance of your lips.

Finally, after what seemed to be an eternity, you both pulled away for a much-needed breath.

“So many nights I laid awake, desperate to feel your lips on mine, dreaming of how you’d taste and feel…none of those fantasies were even close to the real thing.”

“How many nights did you dream of me?” You asked, leaning your head against his chest.

“Since we first met.”

“I admit I dreamt the same of you, Halsin.”

Halsin laughed, a pleasant rumbling in his chest.

You looked up at him, his eyes twinkling with mirth.

“Well then, my flower, we must make up for all the lost time.”

Before you could answer, Halsin scooped you up in his arms bridal-style, silencing your surprised squeak with his lips, more hungry than before.

“What about making the tea?” You gasped between his kisses, wrapping your arms around his neck for purchase.

“When we are done, we can brew it and enjoy it under the stars. Though, by the time we are finished, the sun may just be rising.”

Your body ignited with his words, feeling him smile against your lips as you kissed him with urgency, suddenly needing to feel your entire body against his, needing to feel every part of him.

You knew he felt the same, and he kneeled to lay you on the soft grass, caging you in between his thick biceps.

As his body pressed to yours, your worries and frustrations melted away with every touch and pass of his lips and fingers and sultry praise of your magnificence.

Halsin was true to his word, you explored and worshipied one another until the stars began to fade and a new day was rising, ready to face the world stronger together.

-ˏˋ⋆ Thanks for reading! Comments and reblogs are always appreciated! ⋆ˊˎ-

#halsin x you #Halsin x reader #Halsin x Tav #bg3 x reader #bg3 #Halsin fanfic #halsin silverbough #halsin #Halsin bg3 #bg3 Halsin #bg3 fanfiction #owlwrites #Baldurs gate 3 #x reader #Halsin fluff

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beenbaanbuun · 1 month

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hi bunny! <33 i wanted to ask if you could do a little fic of how the ateez boys (specifically jjong) would be like during aftercare ❤️ after a rougher session— i’m in need of comforty cute stuff rn lmao 😭 no pressure ofc! luv u bun bun 🫶

aftercare w/ateez

hongjoong

i feel like hongjoong is very prepared for aftercare, especially if he knows in advance that it’s going to be a rougher session

like he already has a glass of water and a snack bar on the nightstand ready to go

coos and praises you as he breaks the bar into tiny pierces and slides them between your lips with his fingers

will absolutely force you to pee and shower once he thinks you’ve got your energy up enough to walk to the bathroom

stays with you the whole time you pee, and slides into the shower beside you to wash your hair

unlike some of the others i don’t believe that the shower will to anything else because hongjoong has a modicum of self control and can see you naked without going feral…

seonghwa

seonghwa’s first instinct is to go and grab a washcloth from the bathroom so he can wipe down the mess between your legs

of course, while he’s in the bathroom, he kills two birds with one stone and begins to draw a bath for you

wipes down your sticky skin with the warm cloth, all while whispering praises

‘i know you’re sensitive but you’re being such a good girl by letting me clean you! just a little more and it’ll be over, my darling.’

once you’re somewhat clean he guides you to the bathroom and helps you into the bath before going to chance the sheets

comes back the second they’re changed and in the washer so he can sit on the side of the tub and watch you with a pretty smile

yunho

cuddly boy!!

will literally just hold you to his chest and stroke his hand up and down your spine while the two of you return your breathing to normal

isn’t so fussy about the ‘clean’ aspect of it all, but will definitely make you go pee because we do not want any UTI’s in this house!

and once you’re finished peeing, he just ticks you back into his nice strong arms and lets you fall to sleep in his grasp

he trusts you enough to know that you’ll tell him if you need anything else; water, a snack, all that jazz

he also knows you enough to know that is so incredibly rare that you’ll want anything other than him and his warm cuddles

because let’s be real, lying on top of yunho with your head tucked into his neck and his long arms holding you in place is actually the best feeling in the world

yeosang

you know my thoughts on yeosang’s sex style so i also have to assume that he takes his job of aftercare very seriously

it’s half a guilt thing because baby boy went so hard that now he has to take care of you; he needs to know that you’re okay and he didn’t do too much

he starts by wiping you down and you’re guaranteed to be oversensitive, but he just shushes you and tells you how well you’re doing

ideally he’d like you to shower, but you’re too boneless right now and he doesn’t want to leave you for long enough to run a bath

and when he’s all done cleaning you up, he’ll hold a straw to your mouth, watching you as gulp down the water he brought you

i can see him needing his own validation as well so he asks you plenty of questions

did he go to far? did you like it when he did that one thing? were you having as much fun as he was? he really is desperate to know that you were having a good time

san

san is so fucking clingy that from the moment he goes soft, he will not let you out if his sight

he won’t send you to the bathroom yourself with promises of cuddles when you get back; why would he when he can follow you in there to hold your hand while you pee?

and while you’re in the shower you better let this man wash your hair, your body, your face, anything he can, unless you want him to pout

sits you on the toilet seat while he brushes your teeth; it’s cute but you can’t help but feel shy as he holds your jaw and looks down at you

and then when he’s sure you’re squeaky clean and happy, he bundles you up in his arms and drags you back to bed with him

from which there will be no escape, by the way; if you even dream about getting out of bed, san will be pouting and complaining

mingi

i like to think that he puts his mind, body and soul into sex, so he’s probably just as tired as you when it’s over

ideally, he’d just like to stay in bed with you, but he knows you have to replenish yourself, so he sets you little tasks

“can you go get a wash cloth from the bathroom so i can wipe you down?”, “go piss, girl. i’ll be right here waiting for you.”

and you best believe that after every single task you complete, he’s praising you like you’ve just cured world hunger or something

lips pressed against yours, letting you know just how good you are for him and how proud he is of you for doing what he asks

it’s safe to say youre leave your submissive headspace any time soon, not when mingi has you in his grasp, whispering sweet praises in your ear

wooyoung

wooyoung likes to do everything for you and if he even catches you lifting a finger he will become the most annoying person to ever walk this earth

like he’ll be getting you a glass of water and he’ll come back to the bedroom to see you with a tissue between your legs and all he can thing is how dare you?

literally storms over and takes it away from you before continuing the job himself, muttering under his breath as he cleans you up

“you weren’t so independent when you were begging for my dick, hm?” he scowls, “you need me to fuck you properly, so what makes you think you don’t need to help you with this too?”

like honestly, he’s kind of mean with it but with his gentle touch and the tiny kisses that he’s pressing to your thighs, you know he isn’t actually mad

just being his regular wooyoung-ish self…

jongho

oh you think he’s a teddy bear? wrong; during aftercare you’re his teddy bear and there’s nothing you can do about it!

because he’s way too strong for you to escape from the grasp he has on you, no matter how much wriggling you do

it’s fine though, because jongho always keeps. a bottle of water by his bed and a few snacks in his drawer and a pack of baby wipes too

you literally don’t even have to move from his arms for him to take care of you; everything you need is right there!

of course when you tell him you need to use the bathroom he’s pouting, but then you tell him he can come with you and he’s happy again

he doesn’t consider the fact that he can’t squeeze you to death when you’re actually on the loo, so when he realises that he’s pouting again

literally clings to you the moment you stand up, wasting no time in dragging you back to bed for more cuddles

#ateez x reader #ateez fanfic #ateez scenarios #ateez fluff #ateez fic #ateez headcanons #ateez blurbs

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teatroll · 4 months

Text

+18 NSFW content ahead; MDNI

NANAMI KENTO SPICY HEADCANONS

Includes: fem!reader; inappropriate usage of showers and inaccurate depiction of shower shreks (water ain't lube, hons); unprotected piv; praising; + a bit more add-ons (headcanons, duh)

Note: should've been less detailed but i messed up halfway and it looks like a fic if you squint (oops?). anywho, thank my bestie, she buzzed off my ears 'bout this man and made this happen. (also not betaread) @cafekitsune and @saradika - banners ♡

♡ Nanami Kento is a busy man. So his world precisely revolves around his job as a sorcerer. So does his free time. Whenever he gets home, he's too exhausted to indulge into anything but sleep.

♡ Although, he's not opposed to taking a hot steamy shower or a relaxing bath with you. It's only logical - practical AND pleasant. Two birds, one stone. Quick and easy quality time.

♡ That's what he hoped for before he found his mind wandering places when your hands started massaging shampoo into his scalp.

♡ Steam fogging up the glass shower doors; hot streams washing off soapy foam down your naked form; your glistening eyes searching for his and that tender smile that he cherishes so much...

♡ Yeah, his mind was in the gutter straight away and refused to crawl out from that pit. And he knows that's on him, because it's been way too long since the last time both of you spent some actual quality time together. Better fix this now than never, right?

♡ His touches are slow and gentle as his hands start to roam free, fingertips caressing your skin with utmost care. Nanami's heart flutters as you softly sigh close to his ear.

♡ That gives him the confidence to take it up a notch and glide his hands down to cup your rear; your sweet mewls shortly turning into whimpers as you crook your head to the side, giving him access to leave teasing nibbles on your neck.

♡ It's not long before you feel his hardened length between your thighs as he deliberately rocks his hips into yours.

♡ The sound you made afterwards made him softly hiss through gritted teeth.

♡ Normally he'd choose a different (read as more secure, because he's intolerant to bullshit) place, but with the way you cling to him now, he decides to indulge into such a messy activity as shower sex. After all, he's got places to be tomorrow, so he needs to wake up early. Two birds, one stone yet again.

(This man is practical and rational from the top of his head down to his toenails, what did you expect?)

♡ You gasp when his cock starts to slide back and forth between your thighs, teasing your clit. Your pussy clenches over nothing as you let out a needy whine into his shoulder.

♡ "Shh, baby. It's okay." His voice is a bit raspy as he coos in your ear, caressing your sides. "Let me take care of you."

♡ Another gasp escapes from you as he scoops you into his arms and lifts you up by your hips. Your legs instinctively wrapping around him, so do your arms to support your weight on him.

(But, frankly, that much is not needed. Nanami can lift you up with a single hand and still be able to sip his morning coffee with a straight face.)

♡ With his tip now pushing past your entrance, he lets out a shaky breath; his eyes flutter shut for a brief moment. The sight is divine, least to say; and you'd gladly enjoy it all day long but the way his cock slowly stretches your velvety walls makes your vision blurry.

♡ You squirm and pant into the crook of his neck as his grip on you tightens ever so slightly while he slides all the way in.

♡ There's a pause as he lets you adjust to the feeling, whispering so sweetly in your ear it almost melts your brain into mush.

♡ That man will be giving you a praise kink of the century, there's ZERO debate here. And a simple "good girl" won't cut it either.

♡ He'll shower you in praises for how well you're taking him, for how delightful your moans are, for how cute the blush spreads across your cheeks and neck. Basically, anything his senses pick up on, he'll put on a pedestal.

♡ His thrusts are slow, deep, and so fucking sensual it almost feels like a torture. Of pleasure, obviously. Doesn't dismiss the fact you crave more and make it know as you pull him into the kiss by the back of his neck.

♡ He catches your moans with his lips, savors them like candy. It heats up every nerve in his body, makes his muscles tense as he picks up the pace.

♡ How can he not provide his sweet girl with what she truly wants? Denying you of anything feels so wrong that he can't help but indulge into it all over again.

(Is it a flock of birds, one giant rock now? Probably is.)

♡ He's definitely panting. Maybe even whimpers a bit, but the sound is muffled by your lips on his and hushed by the shower, so you can't really be sure.

♡ What you can be sure of, though, is that familiar knot forming in your core. And that feeling gradually increases with each grind of his. There's quite a bit more force to it now, so that previous tenderness is replaced by pure passion.

♡ There's no escaping a headcanon of Nanami guiding you through your orgasm. Because he definitely does so.

♡ "That's it, just a little more. You can do this, baby." AND "You're so precious. Let me hear those pretty sounds, come on."

♡ SPEAKING OF WHICH, definitely tries to maintain eye contact as you finish.

♡ He wants to feel as your walls clench around him, wants to hear you gasp a choked moan, he craves to watch you crumble on his cock.

♡ That sets him off more than anything as he follows you shortly after, spilling inside you with an ecstatic grunt.

♡ Normally, he'd pull out for sure. But since you're already in the shower, why not to indulge into yet another shower session? But this time, it's your turn to be on the receiving end.

♡ After a short cock warming session as you both try to catch your breath.

(And who knows, maybe this time he'll be able to contain himself and actually just do a simple mundane activity and not waste water for half an hour.)

(Fingers crossed, but the bill will be enormous either way.)

♡ Nanami would definitely kiss your jaw/line of pulse lazily and nibble on your neck.

♡ Praising is obviously a part of aftercare as well, how can he set that aside??

♡ Would leave a gentle peck on the sweet spot just below your ear.

"Now, now, darling. Let's get you cleaned up, shall we?"

♡ EXTRA ♡

♡ Missionary is his "to go to", because that way he can witness every little change in your expression.

♡ He's leaning closer to vanilla tbh.

♡ BUT, if he's frustrated, there will be a quickie on his desk.

♡ Dead ass will ruin you. Your hips will be sore for a week.

(Everything will be sore since we're at it.)

♡ Not to mention there WILL be hair pulling. (I see you, horny people. I know what you want.)

♡ Aftercare now involves him doing everything in his power to soothe you.

♡ Will definitely think you're sobbing because he hurt you, when, on the contrary, that was pure bliss.

♡ Remind that man of it, he tends to forget that vanilla isn't the only thing that exists.

♡ High chance he adores watching you please yourself. Both with fingers and toys.

♡ Hey, he knows you'd rather feel full on his cock, but he's not opposed to teasing.

♡ He might be pure vanilla (hello cookie run lmao), but even so, Nanami can add some spice to your shared love life once in a while.

♡ Especially when it involves giving you the best of times. (Yes, with teasing too.)

♡ SUKUNA RYOMEN ♡ TOJI FUSHIGURO ♡

#nanami kento #jjk nanami #nanami x reader #nanami smut #jujutsu nanami #jjk smut #nanami x you #nanami x y/n #jjk x reader #jjk

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shawtuzi · 1 year

Text

i love plug!eren sm that’s literally my husband and as much as i love writing about how good he fucks let’s talk about how good he is at aftercare!!!!

“s-shit m’gonna cum, take it take all that shit,” eren grunted into your neck, pressing sloppy kisses to your slightly sweaty skin. you were squeezing onto his hand for dear life as he brought you to another earth shattering orgasm, his warm cum filling you up while you shook in his arms. you’d think after five rounds of sex he’d be too tired to even lift his head from your neck but here he was already standing up to retrieve a warm washcloth, but not before giving your puffy lips three quick kisses.

you sighed dreamily as if you were in a daze, you grabbed the post sex blunt he rolled earlier and lit it. “i know you didn’t spark that shit without me,” eren chuckled as he walked in the room with a rag in hand. “i’m sorryyy i couldn’t help myself,” you giggled throwing your arm over your face. eren was a little pouty at first but his frown was quickly replaced with a smile when you offered the blunt to him. “wanna take a bath when i’m done?” he asked settling between your parted legs. you shook your head mumbling something about being too tired.

the next couple of minutes were pretty quiet as eren cleaned you up, the only sound being heard was ‘pretty little birds’ playing lowly from eren’s speaker. “m’gonna hit the block tomorrow for a bit but i’ll still be able to take you to your nail appointment,” he spoke softly running washcloth over your thigh. you hummed at his words even though you weren’t completely listening all the way—i mean how could you focus when he looks so damn good post sex??? you took another hit of the blunt before speaking, “can you stay with me until i’m done? maybe we can get food afterwards?” eren nodded his head, “of course i will you know i always do.”

it was now time for your fav part of aftercare—the cuddling!!! your head was laid on his chest as he gently ran his tatted hand up and down your back. “i can already tell i’m gonna be sore tomorrow i don’t know how i’m gonna be able to walk properly,” you groaned nuzzling your face in his chest, inhaling the intoxicating scent of his body wash. eren kissed his teeth and you looked up at him with confusion in those cute little doe eyes of yours. “baby, you know i’d carry you to whole different state if you asked. if you don’t feel like walking to the car or even into the salon you know i’ll be ready,” he chuckled running his thumb across the apple of your cheek. “you’re the best ren,” you smiled leaning up to give him three kisses.

‘in this darkness’ by clara la san began to play on the speaker and surprisingly enough eren began to hum along to it. “you know this?” you asked making eren smile. “yeah…i remember you played it one time in the car and i kept listening to it after that. kinda reminds me of you,” he said the last part so quietly you almost couldn’t hear but luckily you did. “it reminds you of me? how so?” eren was quiet for a moment before speaking, “just the lyrics and shit, i mean i do get lonely when you aren’t here and before we met my world actually almost did shut down i hated it n’ i was miserable. then you came around and just lit everything up, i was finally happy to get out of bed in the morning all because i knew i’d see or hear from you. not to be corny or whatever but i guess you could say you’re the—i don’t know light of my life or whatever.”

eren glanced at you and immediately regretted everything he said when he saw tears in your eyes, “no no no y/n please don’t start crying i’m just saying shit—” you cut eren off with a long kiss quite literally taking his breath away. “that was so sweet eren you really have a way with words you know? that sounded like it really came from the heart,” your smile was as wide as could be as you gave him another kiss. eren was never the type to put all his emotions out in the open and you could never blame him after hearing what he’d been through, so to hear him express that you were the ‘light of his life’ it meant more than anything.

after about fifteen minutes eren peeked down at your now sleeping figure, little snores coming from your parted lips. he ever so gently set you next to him—not bc he didn’t want you on him he just wanted to admire your face and body one last time for the day before he went to bed. he traced his finger from your eyebrow to your nose that you recently had double pierced, down to your lips that he was itching to kiss. if eren had to pick any part of you he loved the most it would be your lips hands down. he loved the way they looked so pretty all glossed up and shiny, and he loved it even more when you left lipstick prints on him—hence why he’s got a tattoo of a (your) lipstick print on the side of his neck. he could still remember the look of terror on your face as you inspected it but you had grown to love it just like all his other tattoos.

he looked at your naked chest as it rose and fell ever so gently as you slept. he could never quite pinpoint why you had not been happy with how your body looked in the past but he never pried afraid he’d upset you with the question. so instead throughout the expanse of your relationship he made sure to kiss every scar, every stretch mark, every imperfect perfection you had to let you know he thought you were a walking goddess and quite literally everyone including him should be kneeling at your feet.

eren pulled you closer to him and gave you one last kiss on the crown of your head before dozing off, hoping that he would see you in his dreams.

#sorry if this is bad btw i wrote it in like 20 mins heh #but man oh man do i love me a good tooth rotting fluff #eren smut #eren yeager smut #eren jaeger smut #eren fluff #eren yeager fluff #eren jaeger fluff #aot smut #aot fluff #attack on titan smut

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waldau · 2 days

Note

I cant insert a photo here on your ask but it goes something like

"Do whatever you want!!!" X said out of anger then character Y kissed him gently. "You said do whatever i want, right?"

whatever — choi seungcheol | 1,821 words | hurt/comfort, fluff

this prompt was really cute!!!

gender neutral reader. warnings: reader is stressed out? and in need of a hug?

you love the sounds that make the house you share with seungcheol your home.

you love hearing the door creak when you open it at that specific angle. you love the sound of the clock ticking in the living room that seungcheol himself picked out. you love the sound of him walking on the wooden floor of your house, the sound of his glass when it clinks against the marble of the kitchen island, the birds chirping in the evening when you take out time to just relax against him and watch the sun set, and the sound of his quiet snores when he insists he wants to watch you watch your favourite shows, only to end up falling asleep.

there’s none of that here, in this moment.

you take off your shoes and kick them to the side, not bothering to open the cabinet to put them inside because the doors make a particularly loud sound when they snap shut, and you don’t want to risk waking seungcheol up again.

it’s been an odd couple of weeks, with you staying out late because of more work and seungcheol staying in because his workload has been relatively less for the beginning of the new year. him being at home would’ve made you happy if you didn’t have to apologize for cancelling and rescheduling dates, or for being left with energy enough only for a bath and a quick dinner, movie plus cuddling sessions replaced by cuddling in your sleep. if you were lucky to get back home in time, that is.

you stop and listen for a few moments. there’s no sound to be heard. the door to your bedroom is shut, which means that seungcheol must have already gone to sleep.

a little pang of hurt stabs your heart. it’s not like you want him to keep late hours for you, but you’re not exactly doing well in these trying times, and you’d really love to have his voice wash out your worries.

a resounding bang from the kitchen startles you. before you can even think of the worst possible scenario that could’ve just transpired, seungcheol walks out of the kitchen, a rolling pin in one hand and some flour on his hair and his rolled up sleeves. the literal definition of a hot mess.

“hey, baby,” he says, eyes widening when he sees you. “i was expecting you to be back in an hour or two.”

so it’s that bad, huh? it’s become normal for him to expect you to come back even later? you focus on the stains on his clothes instead, and the rolling pin that seems so out of place in his hand. “what exactly are you doing?”

“nothing! well, nothing much. yet. maybe you should stay out of here for a while.”

one thing about seungcheol is that he never keeps secrets. he can’t tell you a white lie to save his life, much less a black lie. “cheol,” you say, frowning, “both of us know you don’t even cook. are you baking? and why’s there flour in your hair?”

“sieving accident,” he mumbles, so quiet that you almost don’t catch it.

“should i be afraid?” you ask, pinching the bridge of your nose. you feel like your tears are a short distance away, and you really, really hope he’s done nothing more. something tells you that isn’t it, however.

“not really!” says seungcheol, but you can read him like glass at this point. the little nervous laugh and the way his nose twitches when he tries spinning facts makes you dread what you’re going to find inside. “maybe you should have a nice bath before you sleep? did you have dinner yet?”

you try to move past him into the kitchen but he blocks the entrance with his broad frame. the one time this isn’t sexy.

“cheol, let me in.”

“not until you tell me the password.”

“there’s a password now? what, something like choi seungcheol is the best?”

he giggles. “close.”

you sigh. “cheol, i’m really not in the mood to play games right now. please tell me what’s going on in there?”

he tries pulling that face, the one with the puppy eyes, where he looks at you so pleadingly that you’re generally ready to fold and do whatever he asks of you, but right now it just doesn’t work on you. the more evasive he is, the more worried you get. before he can react, you duck under his outstretched arms and into the kitchen.

rather, into the mess he’s made of the kitchen.

you’ve heard stories about junhui trying to bake. they sounded absolutely hilarious, and you’ve always wondered how he could mess up so bad that he managed to land waffle batter on the ceiling. especially when he didn’t even own a ladder to try and clean it.

it’s not funny when it’s your house that has some batter on the walls. at least it’s not the ceiling, you think, a bit hysterical, until you see flour on the…everywhere. it’s just everywhere. the counter, near the sink, in front of the oven like it’s a modern day trail of breadcrumbs that hansel and gretel would’ve followed. there’s also baking supplies scattered all over, an extremely huge sheet of baking paper lining a tray that’s sitting next to a bunch of bowls.

it’s a mess, to say the least.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol says, gently turning you away from the sight of it. he winces when he sees your face. you don’t even know what your face looks like. all you know is that you’re tired, that you need a break, and that the last thing you would have liked to see today was your boyfriend’s face while he was peacefully asleep, and not…this.

you shake your head but no words come out.

“i’m sorry,” seungcheol repeats, setting the rolling pin down on the counter. a comical little cloud of flour rises and settles. what kind of accident even was that? “i was just…trying to bake.”

“cheol, you didn’t even know why we use baking soda till last week!”

“hey!” he says, defensive. “i asked you so i could learn. and i know this isn’t great, but—” his words dry up when he notices where your gaze lies — on the batch of cookies that are burned beyond belief.

you can’t believe your eyes, either. you’re not the biggest baker in the world, but you’ve never burned anything you’ve baked. especially not in your first attempt. maybe you’d have given up the courage to bake again if that had happened, but seungcheol clearly isn’t that bothered by it.

you don’t know if it’s because of how pitiful they look, or how long your day has been, but you feel a lump rise in your throat.

“you never even do this,” you whisper, only focusing on his face and not the mess around you. “why did you think you had to do this today?”

“am i not allowed to try things if i want to?” he asks, crossing his arms.

“it’s not that, cheol,” you say, trying to be as reasonable as possible. “i’d ask you for some help before trying something i’ve never done before. you never, ever do this. only when i ask you to help me. why today?”

“because i wanted to,” he says, almost flippant. “i’ll clean it up before you know it.”

but it’s not about the mess. it’s not about the burnt cookies. it’s not about the way he tried to block you from seeing the state of the kitchen. it’s the finality in his tone. it’s the fact that it’s not a big deal to him because he hasn’t had the day you’ve had.

seungcheol’s eyes widen when he sees your lips tremble. “are you seriously mad at me? for baking?”

“do whatever you want,” you hiss, tired and angry, feeling a single tear slide down your cheek. “i shouldn’t have looked inside.” you turn to walk away before it becomes a full fledged cascade of tears, but you don’t go far because of the hand holding on to your wrist.

“stop,” he says, holding you strong enough that it becomes futile to try and escape.

“let me go, seungcheol,” you say, avoiding his face.

“oh, no,” he breathes out, and the next thing you know is that your face is cradled in his hands and there’s a warm kiss pressed to your forehead. and your nose. and your lips. and it keeps repeating till you push him away, your face in his hands. you can feel the ugly emotions inside you ebbing away slowly, reducing to small embers that prickle the slightest bit.

“what are you doing?” you ask weakly.

“you said do whatever i want, right?” he asks, a smile on his face.

that gets you to break, for some reason. you would’ve forgiven him even if he’d gotten batter on the ceiling, because this — the sight of seungcheol with flour in his otherwise perfect hair, wearing an old shirt and beaming at you even though you’ve snapped at him — kills even those small embers.

you press your face to his chest and let the tears out silently.

seungcheol rubs your back. “hey,” he says softly. “let it out, okay? and i’m sorry about the mess. i meant it when i said i’ll clean—”

“it’s not that,” you whisper. “just…hold me?”

seungcheol complies, and you find yourself swaying in his hold in the silence of your house.

“want to talk to me about it?” he offers when you pull away, feeling slightly better. “i’m—”

“stop apologizing to me, cheol,” you say, laughing a little wetly. “it’s not the kitchen. i’ve just…i’ve been missing you like crazy and i miss just being with you without doing anything. i hate coming home late and seeing you asleep by yourself in our bed. i want…i want things to go back to the way they were.”

“so, a bad week?”

“more than one.”

“but you have me here at the end of every single day, right?” seungcheol says, pushing up the corners of your lips to make you smile. you do smile, but it’s because of the cute grin he has on his face. “we’ll get through it before you know it.”

you sigh. “it sounds good when you say it like that.”

“because i mean it. also, one more thing.”

“yeah?”

“please don’t ever call me by my whole name again.”

“only if you mess up the kitchen that bad again.”

“hey!”

“also, why were you baking in the first place?”

“because i wanted to cheer you up,” he says, sheepish, and you want to do nothing more than hold his face and kiss him silly.

“you’re an idiot, baby,” you say, cradling his face in your hands. “but you’re my idiot. and i love you.”

seungcheol’s blushing face is quite possibly enough to get you through tomorrow.

taglist: @bookyeom @wootify @strnsvt @cloudycaramel @thepoopdokyeomtouched @minnieminshi @nonononranghaee @hrts4hanniehae @viewvuu

#alternative title: everything everywhere flour at once #scoups #scoups fluff #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #choi seungcheol fluff #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt #svt fluff #fluff #coups #waldau writes #req

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cameronspecial · 4 months

Text

Let Me Spend Christmas With You, Angel

Pairing: Frat!Rafe Cameron x Reader

Warnings: Mentions of Sex

Pronouns: She/Her

Word Count: 1.0K

Summary: With the Holidays around the corner, Rafe only has one goal this season.

Masterlist

As the semester comes to an end, the Holiday break is fast approaching. Y/N is packing her suitcase for her flight home while Rafe pouts on her bed. “I still don’t get why you don’t want to come to Guadalupe with me and my family,” he grumbles as she packs another knitted sweater. “We weren’t together last Christmas.” The corners of her lips are slightly curved downward and her head swivels on itself. “I know we didn’t get to have Christmas together last year and I really do want to spend the Holidays with you. But I also want a white Christmas. You know, snow, fireplaces, and hot cocoa,” she argues. Rafe gets up from the bed and holds onto her arm, “Come on, Angel. Who needs those things when you can have beaches and sex on the beach? The drink and the act. Please, let me spend Christmas with you, Angel.” It’s rare to see Rafe begging, expect if it means he gets to spend more time with Y/N. “Rafe, that sounds really nice. But what about my family?” she asks, wrapping her arms around his neck. His eyes bore into hers, “They can come too. There are more than enough rooms in our beach house for your family.” He watches as a sparkle starts to form in her eyes, alongside her smile. “Really? I’ll go ask them if they want to go now,” she pulls out her phone and dials her mom’s number.

———

Rafe’s hand is on the small of her back as he guides her down the stairs of the Camerons’ private jet. Y/N can feel water start to pool out of her pores. “Thank you again for inviting us on vacation with you guys,” he can hear Garth thank Ward ahead of them. Ward shakes his head, “No problem. Last year, Rafe was so sulky without Y/N with him, so I’m glad to do anything for them to be together this year.” Overhearing the men’s conversation, she giggles at the thought of her boyfriend missing her. Rafe frowns at her and brings her to his side. “Don’t laugh at my misfortune,” he laments, kissing her cheek. She throws her hand up in the air, “I’m sorry, but you are just so darn cute.”

———

Christmas morning is a little bit different for her this year. Y/N and Rafe had found a secluded beach on the island and after they spent Christmas Eve with their families, they snuck away to it for an amazing night together. The grains of sand shift under her weight as she twists in his hold. The towel they are lying on barely does anything to keep the sand away from their skin. Her eyes flutter open to see Rafe’s still breathing shallowly. She kisses his lips and watches as he starts to wake up. “Merry Christmas, Rafe,” she whispers, burying her head in his neck. His lips press a kiss in her hair, “Merry Christmas, Angel. We should probably head back home. I know Wheezie is going to be dying to open the presents.” She agrees with his statement and they both get their bathing suits on to go home.

“Looks like the love birds have finally pulled themselves out of wherever they were. Come on you two, we were just about to open presents,” Candace beckons Rafe and her daughter as they walk through the front door. The couple makes their way down into the living room, where the Christmas tree is, and settles on the floor. Rafe and Y/N’s hips brush against each other because of how close they are sitting.

Each family member takes turns opening a gift with the watchful eyes of the other members. The next gift placed in Y/N’s lap is a rectangular prism wrapped in paper with tiny reindeer on them. The card sticking out behind the ribbon has her name written on it in Rafe’s chicken scratch and his name under it. She keeps the card and takes the time to take the tape off of the paper to preserve it. Underneath, she finds a white cardboard box with no identifiers as to what is inside. She gives Rafe a raised eyebrow and he encourages her to open it. Her thumb slots in the gap of the box’s lid, pulling it open. Inside is a mason jar decorated with ribbons and tiny hearts. The label says One Hundred Reasons Why I Love You in cursive writing she has never seen before. There are folded paper slips in the jar. She opens it up and picks one out. The writing is in the same effortful cursive. Reason #47: You never judge me for my mistakes. Instead, you help me grow from them. She is touched that he took the time to work on her gift because she is sure each reason is something just as thoughtful as this one. Tears brim in her eyes as she pulls him into a hug. “Thank you,” she murmurs in his ear.

Next to open a gift is Rafe and it just so happened to be Y/N’s. He removes the tissue paper from the bag, folding it nicely for Y/N to reuse later. He finds a folded article of clothing inside. It is a jean jacket and on the back, there is an embroidered picture. The beautiful work shows Rafe and Y/N kissing. He turns the jacket so he can see the front to find Angel written in a heart on the breast pocket. Y/N has obviously put a lot of effort into the gift and he loves it. He brings her in for a kiss as a thank you. She smiles at the feel of his lips on her skin. This Christmas might not be spent in the snow, but Christmas in the sand is just as good.

———

Rafe is getting lunch when Jaiden walks into the kitchen. Rafe’s back is facing the doorway so he doesn’t notice the other boy’s appearance. Jaiden stares at Rafe’s back in amazement. “Your jacket is so cool, Dude,” Jaiden compliments, heading to the fridge to get a beer. Rafe turns toward his fellow brother and beams with pride. “Why thank you, my angel made it for me. I’m one lucky guy,” he gushes. “Well, she did a great job,” Jaiden adds before leaving the room. Rafe can’t hide his grin as he finishes lunch and brings it upstairs to his angel.

Taglist: @winterrrnight @loves0phelia @thelomlisrafecameron @wickedlovely121 @queen-shadow22 @nonbullshit-toleratingkindagirl

#let me angel #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #outer banks #rafe cameron x y/n #rafe cameron x female reader #rafe cameron x you #rafe cameron fanfiction #rafe cameron fic #outer banks x reader #rafe cameron series #outer banks fanfiction #outer banks fic #obx #obx fanfiction #obx fic #obx x reader

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risingsuntarot · 17 days

Text

1--2

3-4

General Messages & Advice !!

⚠️TW Quick mention of s*icidal ideation⚠️

I honestly had no set plan for this reading negl so I kinda just pulled out some cards to describe the collective energies and give them some advice sorry if this is long !! This took me quite a while so any love would be greatly appreciated!! Thanks for reading 💜

Excuse any typos :+//

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile ONE

---Cards pulled---

Ace of cups/Queen of Coins/2 of Coins

---Clarification---

9 of Coins/7 of Coins/8 of Wands

I see you're able to either barely able hold onto your emotions and new beginnings or you manage them quite well no inbetween

Youre extremely intelligent, patient yet fast and direct, dedicated and multifaceted it may have taken a lot to get to this point although

Im sensing a lot of emotional sensitivity yet you are perceived as stone when you feel like glass

"Petite, Cute, Princess, Marilyn monroe, Dainty" maybe youre described as such?

Strong sense of justice and very dependable, able to maintain balance

Maybe you feel lost inside? S*icidal ideation ? Or loneliness is a big factor

Possible lack of belief in change and self confidence

Im getting Hopeless romantic or dissatisfaction in love life if im being honest

No inspiration for life :'+(

Unstable Family background or relationships

Youre extremely pessimistic arent you? Im so sorry but i feel genuine pain hurt and the urge to cry almost? But something wont allow me to

Suppressed emotions or memories :+((

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Eagle "see from a higher perspective"

Air Gaurdian "Shift your perception"

Lord "Take charge with authority"

High Priest "Intend ans Create"

There is a need for the sun and nature for playing a huge part in your healing, maybe its seasonal depression or simply anxiety or the "no inspiration for life" thats here

Bed rot could be a thing

There is a need to release old habits desires and ego

Confide in a masculine figure in your life or a masculine figure sees your distress (Gender doesn't matter its all energy)

Protection is needed and maybe a nice cleanse, maybe a cedar bath?

Again seasonal depression is coming up lol

You could be either a pieces or one of the Air signs

Take pride in your appearance, in the card she has long flowing black hair and stunning eyes!! Piercings too? Specifically a left nose piercing

Over thinking/pondering lol

Possible past friends or connections have ended badly?

Opportunities will only open up when you open your eyes and see that what you choose to see in the world if what youll perceive and experience

Lord of the rings/DND/Elden Ring/LARPing?

Rams could be significant or Aries sign!!

Learn a new instrument!! Make more art but with your own style ? Maybe youre in a art achool that doesnt allow for much individuality? But being a proud ab your individuality here is important!!

Birds are an important sign here, look out for feathers, hawks or eagles!!

If youre indigenous/Native/Aboriginal you may be receiving an Eagle Feather from an elder or during ceremony?! What an honor oml

Willie Jack from reservation dogs Vibes !!

---Channeled Songs---

LVL up - David strickland, Drezus, Aspects, prognosis

This came on during writing the eagle feather bit a lyric that caught my attention was

"Been a problem, Still a problem

But problems are what you need to grow"

Runaway - Lil peep

"Everybody act like they care, Why the fuck do everybody act like they care"

When I'm Gone - Eminem

"Just know that I'm looking down on you smiling

And I didn't feel a thing,

So, baby, don't feel no pain

Just smile back"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

PILE TWO

---Cards pulled---

The hermit/Knight of wands/8 of wands

---Clarification---

9 of cups/The Empress/Strength

Im getting like lost rebellion? And being unhealed and hurt inside from past trauma's specifically abandonment, neglect or betrayal from authority figures or those you had trusted

Feeling empty and misguided despite only trusting yourself, and no one seems to want to listen to your advice/experiences leading you to feel isolated and forgotten in a way?

Maybe you're a party animal, possible drinker and/or just popular/known in social settings

There is heavy overindulgence in emotionally fufilling things, specifically overspending and maybe other possible addictions (sleep, food, drugs etc)

Mother/Feminine figure is very important in your life

You look to them for approval of many things but they may have been not caring about your emotional needs or satisfaction rather they cared more about your hidden strengths and "beast inside" ?? Or even how "weak" they perceived you, they may have been disappointed at your strengths and abilities, n maybe they put you in some kind of martial arts or boxing despite your disinterest in it?

Quick to move on from situations!! Yet indecision and regret is coming through Strongly

Impatient with skills and talents that dont turm out they way you wanted so perfectionist type vibes

You are a clear communicator but tend to be rather impulsive with decisions or say one thing and do a completely different thing

Extreme harshness towards oneself and heavy judgement too :+(

Feeling exposed? Like all eyes are on you yet you dont want them

I feel a facade of confidence but there is true confidence coming through by the tiniest bit? yet it's heavily based on the feminine figures perspective in your life one with authority also your own perspective on yourself

Lots of self hatred and anger

Family oriented, getting protective yet detached energy tho

Cancer by my chemical romance came on so that song may be relevant?

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Wise One "Grow within your current situation"

Mountains "Stand your ground"

Stargazer "Set your sights higher"

Direction guardian "Choose your path"

Owls maybe significant to you and other avians such as ravens

The wise one card depicts a woman with feathers in her gray hair, description of someone possibly?

Also a crescent moon is atop the owls head so maybe Athena or Greek mythology is important to you

I sense there was a lot of hardship in your life, ups and downs, peaks and valleys yet you choose to persevere and stay strong

I see you have may have been passed down a gift having to do with dreams, keep a journal and look into meanings of those dreams!! Also maybe astrology is something you love to look into or have an interest in ?

Although something is blocking this gift from its fullest potential i believe there is healing or a cycle to be closed off before youre allowed to fully tap into it !! It'll take time and work on your part

As of now you have many choices to make in many areas of life, youre heavily protected by your guides and loved ones, the direction guardian is depicted with a Seraphim as described by the hebrew prophet Ezekiel!!

Specifically in Ezekiel 28:11-19 is where the seraphim is described

You have choices, this card is to remind you that YOU have the power of your own path and direction

---Channeled Songs---

Cancer - MCR

"Baby I'm just soggy from the chemo

But counting down the days to go

It just ain't living

And I just hope you know

That if you say (if you say)

Good-bye today (good-bye today)

I'd ask you to be true (I'd ask you to be true)

'Cause the hardest part of this

Is leaving you"

No place to hide - Korn

"Some will look at the time I looked back into my life

You wanna touch me to see what's in my eyes

Why do you make me remember my hate, all this shame?

Don't you hate me? Sometimes"

I-E-A-I-A-I-O - SOAD

"Mine delusions acquainted,

Bubbles erotica,

Plutonium wedding rings,

Icicles stretching,

Bicycles, shoestrings,

One flag, flaggy but one,

Painting the paintings of the alive."

Although this seems like nonsense many fans believe its abbreviations or like code!! Soo...

M D E = Media and so on

The sentence comes together as:

"Media back-end power is bullshit, opposing force for the power of propaganda"

Stole this^^^ from genuis btw lmao

Theres the "lost rebel" part lol

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

PILE THREE

---Cards pulled---

2 of swords/The Chariot/10 of Wands

---Clarification---

Ace of Swords/Knave of Coins/6 of wands

I feel more a message for this pile? And i do apologize but it is quite shorter than the rest but I will try my best to deliver both tho

You seem to be a very balanced person with clear morals and judgement, you have an ability to see all shades of gray in a black and white world maybe you work in the justice system? Or are dealing with the justice system ?And this stresses you out greatly yet you maintain hope for all that you see and deal with even if you see repeating injustices to those around you

Maybe PTSD is a factor here too, overthinking your own trauma or others

Anyways despite your position here you choose this pile for a reason !! You offer people truth and often give closure to cycles that needed to end

With the 2 of coins tho i think there is some imbalance between what you can and cannot do ? If that makes sense, like you can heal others or give them justice but cannot do the same for yourself :+(

Anyways the message i sense from this pile is pretty straight forward, you are giving someone (or yourself!!) the chance or closure to heal once more and whatever you may be waiting for is coming in quite quick although I feel there may be someone who may come in to sabotage the whole thing so be careful about who you choose to reveal this information to

They may offer a trade of some sort?

A deal, hush money or simply intimidation

Up your protection and be aware of fake friends yet still remain hopeful about the outcome because i see it turning out in your favor

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Snake "Shed old skin"

Protection Guardian "Drop your Shields"

Winter "Take care of your needs"

High Priestess "Harness mystic power"

Again straightforward, beware of fake Friends and deals with strings attached my advice here is to up your protection and stand your ground!!

Drop your gaurd with those who you KNOW you can trust, you may need ro let out some stresses and emotions? Because the card winter is all about needs and hibernation so sleep well, eat and take some time to relax !!

Also might be an indication that whatever this situation is it may have happened in the winter/colder months

While in this time of self care and healing strengthen your knowledge and strengths learn how to master them !!

Your dreams and own special psychic gifts are important and potent !! Use them for yourself at this moment in time use that healing energy for yourself

Have confidence in yourself and know and own your protection because again you are heavily protected at this time you will most likely know who to stay away from very soon

Follow you intuition and what it tells you !!

---Channeled Songs---

The bird and the worm - The Used

[Whispered Post-Chorus] "Don't tell on me, don't tell on me. No, don't you tell on me, please. It's okay, don't tell on me, please..."

I find it interesting that its not the actual audible lyrics but if you listen to the song this is what the whispers are saying so...take it as it resonates

Spiders - SOAD

"Approaching guiding light

Our shallow years in fright

Dreams are made, winding through my head"

Bad dreams might be significant to you? Please try to relax good things are coming !!

Mama - MCR

"You should have raised a baby girl

I should've been a better son

If you could coddle the infection

They can amputate at once

You should've been

I could have been a better son"

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

Pile Four

---Cards pulled---

5 of cups/4 of wands/Knave of coins

---Clarification---

8 of wands/6 of cups/Knave of wands

I believe there currently is dissatisfaction with your love life or offers within love at this moment or even just impatiently waiting for your current partner/interest to "make a move"

There isnt a lot of hope or faith in the connection on your part but i do see this person is interested they just operate differently and have some concerns

Mostly having to do with being used for their material gain, name position and/or authority

They do see this connection quite successful but they hate being put on a pedestal, due to this they wont have the guts to come forward if they do!! It will most likely be impulsive or very confusing and indirect which might leave both of yous flustered mainly them

This might be over drinks because my face is warming up lol

They see you as the four of wands and 6 of cups what a wonderful pair of cards together!!

But they see your disappointment and or pulling away from their energy which is turning them off easily but they still have their eyes on you

They have no time to be a chaser or to be chased this person is quite serious in their relationships so dont play childish games, play stupid games and win stupid prizes right?

They have come to a decision on their own but its also up to them when this information is revealed to you directly

Also there seems to be a sort of distrust with relationships on either sides which needs to be addressed before hand

Communication maybe be an issue

---ORACLE/ADVICE---

Medicine Guardian "Be open to healing information"

Elder "Healing through lineage"

Peacekeeper "Harmonious resolution is possible"

Lady "enjoy growth a reap rewards"

I feel like time is needes to open up tp yourself and heal some issues on your side first, become the best possible version you can before you can move on with this

I see that this connection may heal cycles in your family and generational trauma possibly?

Its your job to keep cool despite the circumstances now and remember to mediate and that peace is always an option. Not every battle is worth fighting

However this goes you will be happy with what you see in the mirroe nonetheless!! Enjoy your hardwork and healed state

---Channeled Songs---

Fed Up - Ghostmane

"I'm fed up with the fame

I'm sick of reading my name in any other way than I intended

Fed up with all of these motherfuckers misunderstandin' me

I'm fed up with the ones that try to say you a fan of me

But then they turn their back and mothafuckers abandon me

You think I'm sitting high with everything, but now can't you see?

I'm livin' in reality, a struggle, not fantasy

I'm in a million-dollar couch, back then I was in a van"

No you girls - Franz Ferdinand

"Sometimes I say stupid things

But I think, well, I mean I

Sometimes I think the stupidest things

Because I never wonder

Oh, how the girl feels

Oh, how the girl feels"

Driven Under - Seether

"Must be something on your mind

Something lost for me to find

Do you know I'm faking?"

I feel this is more the distrust with their previous relationship possibly?

Also this lyric

"We have to succumb to the feelings we can never face

I need you, I breathe you

I can't go through this all again

We have to succumb to the feelings we can never face

I need you, I breathe you

I can't go through this"

Also pile 3 may have some messages?? I accidentally typed pile three for this one? :+//

-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-+-

#daily tarot #pick a card reading #fs pac #love pac #pick a picture #intuitive messages #detailed pac #tarot reading #tarot #tarot cards #pac #pick a card

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agirlcandream84 · 1 month

Text

Even more Boyfriend!Frank Headcanons

What can I say? I live in an imaginary world at all times. Please join me.

Whenever there's something to hang on the wall around the house, god forbid you touch a hammer and nails. It's not that Frank doesn't think you can manage, in fact he knows you absolutely could, he just doesn't think his girl should have to fuss with that sort of stuff. So instead he has the patience of a saint as you hem and haw if it's level and then tells you how cute you are with a peck on the forehead after he's finished hanging it.

You are a passenger princess in the truest sense of the word. Not once since dating did you have to sit behind the wheel. Even the idea of it actually mortifies Frank. And what's more, the man OPENS YOUR DOOR for you when you get in and out. When he first started doing it you'd forget and make to climb out on your own but he'd tut with a "Nah stay put sweetheart, don't make me ask twice" before walking over to your side of the truck, shouting "asshole" at someone whizzing by too close and only opening the door when it was safe.

The thing about Frank is, he will spank you when he knows you need it. You've got a successful career and a lot on your plate and he thinks that's hot as hell but he also sees how the pressure of it unravels you and wears you out. On days where you're extra snippy or attempt to boss him around, he knows you need to feel that he's got things under control and you can let go sometimes. Seems counterintuitive but he'd grab you by the waist, haul you across his knee, shimmy down your pants a bit and give you a few good smacks, asking "You understand why I'm doing this doll?". At first you fight it but by the third smack it slips juuusssst a bit into daddy territory where you feel like you can let go and trust that someone else will handle it all.

Frank liked to go for long drives on Saturday mornings, time to himself to clear his head and let you sleep in but he never left without first getting your iced coffee and bagel order and leaving it on the kitchen table for you when you woke up. Whenever he came home a few hours later, he was always extra sappy, like the time away was weeks and not hours, and he was content to wait on you hand and foot-- running your bath, fixing your tea, literally carrying you to the bathtub saying "Come on, lemme take care of you doll" when you protested.

Whenever your sister was in town and you two wanted to see the sights of the city Frank was respectful to give you the time with your sis you missed so much BUT he didn't like the idea of two pretty girls walking around the city by themselves so he'd tag along and mostly walk 4-6ft behind the both of you with his hands clasped behind his back like we was working security.

Goes without saying but Frank is levelheaded during an "emergency" and you are.....not. When a bird got into your apartment and you were shrieking like it was a hawk and not a tiny sparrow, Frank's in the room in a flash, hugging you to his chest as he walks you to the bedroom, mildly scolding you like "gotta calm down, alright? stay in the bedroom sweetheart" before closing the door and managing to catch the bird and release it. Later he gives you a bit of talking to about staying clam in emergencies and makes you show him were the first aid kit is and what you'd do if there was an intruder.

Frank loves, I mean LOVES, your adorable attempts to "dominate" him physically. Like the time he riled you up on purpose telling you to "go make him a sandwich" and you gasped and shoved him in the chest. He moved as much as a brick wall in the wind and that only made you madder so you shoved him again. He only stood with a smirk on his face and scooped you over his shoulder asking "you wanna be in charge huh?" before stripping you naked to let you ride his cock, practically cooing at you to "Take what you want honey. Doin' such a good job. being in charge."

#frank castle fanfiction #frank castle x reader #frank castle #frank castle fanfic #frank castle smut #frank castle x you #frank castle x y/n #frank castle fluff #frank castle headcanons

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smusherina · 27 days

Text

yard work - chapter 2 (regina george x reader)

fandom: Mean Girls (all media)

pairing: Regina George x OFC/Reader

summary: You'd been in the same class as Regina George since kindergarten. You'd lived on the same street even longer. Once upon a time, when life was sandbox disputes and who got the swing first arguments, you'd even been friends. Now, in junior year of high school, you doubted she even remembered you. The same couldn't be said about you. You definitely remembered her.

chapter 1 / chapter 3

During the school day, she'd ignore you as usual. Wandering the halls of Northshore, you'd catch glimpses of her but no more than that. It actually felt like you were seeing less of her than usual. It was hard to avoid somebody in a school like Northshore, but somehow she managed it. You doubted it had anything to do with you specifically. She'd been acting off since you'd had dinner at the Georges'.

After school, those days you went to Regina's house to do their yard work, it was as if a switch had been flipped. Gretchen and Karen weren't around. Regina had taken her mom's place on the patio and bathed in the sun as you worked.

You hated to say it was distracting. Partly because the whole thing had thrown you off kilter, like why was she doing all this all of a sudden, and also because she was hot. There was no question about it. Regina George was hot.

You desperately tried maintaining focus on the chlorine you were pouring into the pool, pretending you weren't all too aware of Regina lying not too far away from you, in a skimpy hot pink bikini, large sunglasses covering her eyes.

"Regina! Oh, that's such a cute 'suit you got, where'd you get it?" You were distantly aware of Mrs George stepping through the sliding door to the backyard. Regina muttered something in return. You didn't have to look to see Mrs George wilt at her daughter's dismissal.

It pissed you off. Regina didn't have to entertain her mom's every whim, she could be a bit much, even you could admit that, but she didn't have to be so mean.

You walked over to them with the empty chlorine bag in hand. "Hey, Mrs George." You called as you approached. "Margaritas?"

"Hi, sweetie! I brought you two some, gotta stay hydrated in this hot weather. All virgin, of course!" Mrs George winked and offered up the tray she had in her hands. You smiled gratefully and took one of the glasses. You were actually quite thirsty and Regina's mom made the best (alcohol-free) cocktails.

"Thanks," You said before taking a sip. Mm, strawberry and basil. Yummy.

"Just leave it there, mom. She's gotta work and I'm busy." Regina pointed at the little table next to the sunbeds before directing her attention back to, uh, lying in the sun. She sure looked busy.

"Okay, honey." Mrs George smiled, but the chirp in her voice was strained. "You just call and I'll be right here, alright?" She looked from her daughter to you.

"You got it, Mrs George."

Once the older woman had ducked out of the door and closed it behind her, you turned to Regina.

"You don't need to be mean, y'know." You took a sip, watching the pink slush move through the swirly straw.

"Excuse me?" Regina craned her neck in your direction, looking very uncomfortable. You walked around to the sunbed next to hers and sat down facing her.

"She just brought us margaritas." You said, continuing to sip on your drink.

"Uh, yeah, and I'm busy." She huffed before reaching for her own drink. "Why she feels the need to bother me is beyond me."

"She's your mom and wanted to do something nice." You rolled your eyes, already sick of her attitude.

Regina didn't bother responding. You adjusted on the seat so you were sitting on it the right way, legs kicked up and leaned back. You decided to relax for a few minutes. It was still the beginning of the school year, September barely just started, so summer was still lingering warm in the air.

There was a robin's nest in one of the apple trees. Red-chested birds flew around, from their home branch to the bird pool, to somewhere you couldn't see and back. Soon it'd be apple picking season. For the last two years of high school Mrs George had given you maybe more than half the apples since she didn't know what to do with so much. Before that, it used to be you and Regina. Picking apples, sitting on the branches, peeling each and every one and boiling them into jam with obscene amounts of sugar. Looking back, you were pretty sure doing all those things without proper adult supervision was like tempting a tragic accident.

(To be fair, you had fallen out of those apple trees once before. You were maybe twelve and it was the middle of summer. You'd lost your balance and toppled onto your wrist. Regina had nearly fallen herself scrambling down to get you. She'd cried more than you and you were the one with a broken bone. She insisted you pick a pink cast. She was the first to sign it, too.)

Out in the sun, it was much hotter than under the partial shade in the yard. You chugged the rest of your drink before standing back up. You pulled off your shirt as you walked to the patio stairs, leaving on just a sports bra and your shorts.

"Jean shorts are so lame," Regina said behind you. You turned to look at her and found her looking at you from over her sunglasses. Her eyes raked over your body, no doubt judging how much weight you'd gained since she last saw you without clothes.

Fuck. Not like that. That sounded wrong. You had spent a lot of time at her pool, both of you in swimsuits, as kids. A totally normal, non-sexual setting.

You shrugged, pretending her wandering eye did not make you insecure. "I like my jorts."

"Your taste is questionable." Regina scoffed, a little smile playing on her lips. "At best." She added sassily. You had a feeling she was mocking you.

"Thanks!" You struck a little pose, cocking your hip and blowing a kiss her way, responding in an equally snarky manner. You knew you didn't stand up to her fashion standards. Loose jean shorts down to a little above your knees, basic brown slides, and now sans a raggedy, well-loved Queen tee was not exactly high couture.

"You're not cute, jorts." She leaned up on her elbows and pushed the shades up to her hair. "I think I saw this exact outfit on you, like, three years ago." She pretended to think, finger on her chin. "So, when we were thirteen..."

"Yeah, you probably did." You chuckled. "You also called me jorts three years ago. So, clearly, nothing's changed, right?"

You both damn well knew a lot had changed. Still, she entertained you with a seemingly genuine smile. You smiled back before turning away to retrieve some tools from the shed. There was a gap in the fence that needed fixing.

Then, for the following week and then some, as if the past years of her ignoring you hadn't happened at all, she started speaking to you. Not at school, though, never in public. Only Kylie and Mrs George were privy to your rekindled friendship. You weren't sure if you could even call it that. Was it friendship if it was conditional to time and place?

You couldn't find it in yourself to care too much, though. You had your own crowd at school. You had things other than the Georges' yard work to do. Sometimes you went skating with the guys, picked up shifts at the shop, did chores and yard work at home, played video games, and on rare occasions studied. You had a life outside of Regina George.

So what if when you fucked up a trick and looked around all frantic, checking that Regina hadn't suddenly spawned at the skate park and seen your epic fall. So what if you spent your work hours thinking about her, counting down the minutes until you got to clean the Georges' pool again. So fucking what you wanted to beat the shit out of Regina in Mortal Kombat.

Maybe you did care. You wanted to spend more time with her. Was that a crime? If you could talk during the several hours of the day, five days a week, that the two of you went to the same school, then that want would've abated. But you had to wait. Sometimes there were several days in a row that you barely got a glimpse of her.

You sounded pathetic. Gosh. You hadn't realized how much you missed her until you got a taste of what it was like to have her back. You couldn't even remember what had caused her sudden avoidance back then. Something with Janice and a sleepover. The details had gone blurry since then. You hadn't even been at the sleepover, but you'd heard something bad had gone down. Something that caused Janis 'Imi'ike to switch schools for the remainder of middle school.

Sighing, you let your pencil fall from your hand. You fucking hated algebra. Functional math, business math, that you could deal with, but derivatives and parables and all that stuff? No. Just no.

You rolled your chair back from your desk and decided it was high time for some relaxation. You walked across the hallway to the computer room, planning on fucking around on RuneScape.

Before you could get into gaming, though, you checked AIM and noticed you had a message. From Regina. What? You click the chat open and see that it's been sent a pretty long while ago.

> can i come over? daddys home

You stared at the uncharacteristic message. You two never spent time at your house back then. It was always empty and you didn't have the same fun things Regina did. Mrs George had been a significantly better cook, to add. Your toaster oven tater tots and dino nuggies couldn't compare.

But, hey, maybe this was the start of something new.

> sure > when? whenevr is fine w me

That could've all been one message but, well, here you were. You jumped in your seat when she responded almost immediately.

> omw

Shit. You shot up from the desk chair, sending it rolling to the other side of the room. You shut down the behemoth of a machine as fast as you could, which wasn't very fast, and shot down the stairs. The living room was a mess 'cause you'd spent the last few days pigging out in front of the TV, playing videogames and eating exclusively takeout.

You spent some time in the pantry trying to look for a garbage bag, time was running out, before rushing to the crime scene that was the couch. Styrofoam containers, probably some cutlery, empty bags of Cheetos and whatnot, empty cans, all that flew into the bag. You wouldn't have time to vacuum, so you just brushed the crumbs away into the couch cushions or onto the floor.

You were almost done when the doorbell rang. You had collected all the trash, but you still had to put away some of the still good leftovers. Didn't wanna waste those since you could eat it later.

"Hi!" You exclaimed, a little too riled up to seem sensible at the door. "I was just cleaning up."

"I see that." Regina drawled, eyeing the garbage bag as well as you. You'd completely forgotten about how you looked.

"Shit, sorry," You looked down at your body and the unfortunate clothes draped over it. Blue briefs with little Spidermen printed on them and a ratty grey hoodie with a devastating stain right on your chest. Your hair probably looked just as bad. You hadn't been bothered to fix up your bedhead, it was a goddamn Sunday.

"Don't worry about me." Regina, with her hands at her hips, looked at you expectantly. "So..."

"Yeah, uh, just stay here," You turned and put your sandals on. "I'll put this to the trash and, I still gotta put some things away and then you can come inside."

Regina just stared at you. You pursed your lips together and hustled past her, down the porch steps and toward the trash cans. By the time you'd hauled the bag away, you could no longer see Regina on the porch.

"Regina! I said don't go in!" You ran after her.

"Don't be ridiculous, jorts, I'm not afraid of a mess. Gosh." You could hear her from inside, probably taking her shoes off. That'd been a thing at your house always, but you didn't expect her to remember.

"Fucking- fine, okay, just..." You huffed as you spied her saunter into your living room as if she owned the place. She slumped down onto the couch, the very same you'd slept on the previous night.

You collected the food from the coffee table and moved it to the kitchen. You gave tentative sniffs to glean if they'd gone bad already. They'd only been out in the open for like, less than a day. So it was probably fine.

"When'd you order that?" Regina's voice came from behind you unexpectedly. You turned to her, caught with your nose in some noodles.

"Uh, last night..." You wiped at your nose with your sleeve.

She walked up to the container, right up in your space, and also gave it a sniff. Then she shrugged.

"I was thinking the same," You poured the noodles into Tupperware and shoved it into the fridge.

"Why's your fridge so empty? Has your dad gone bankrupt?" Regina stepped in before you could fully close the door.

"No, Reggie, he's fine. I don't have the money to stock up like your mom."

Regina turned to look at you, a displeased pout on her lips. She'd always hated it when you called her that. "I fucking hate that stupid nickname. And what do you mean you don't have the money?"

"I mean I don't have the money?" You paused in pouring beef and broccoli into another container, turning to look at her.

"Doesn't he send you money or make someone do it for you when he's away?"

You smiled a little bitterly. "He hasn't done that since I was, like, twelve." You paused. "Well, he's always sent me money but he used to have my babysitter buy groceries when I was way young."

Regina's lips twisted like she was genuinely thinking. You continued, feeling weird now that such a weirdly vulnerable conversation had been opened: "He sends me an allowance every week for groceries and school lunch, but it's not that much. If I didn't work at yours or at the shop I'd be toast." You grinned as you put on the last lid, moving to put the last two containers into the fridge too.

Regina didn't look all that amused. She was still frowning at your fridge, the rather pathetic state of it. You could admit it was pretty bleak. Two-litre bottles of various sodas, microwave meals, and an astonishing amount of condiments were not a sight that sparked hope.

"That's weird," Regina commented. "It's like you're poor but with a nice house."

"Gee, thanks so much, Reg, that makes me feel so good and seen." You drolled. "Oh, you think I have a nice house? That's nice."

"It's alright, I guess. Mine's better." Back to her usual, unthinking and overall not-that-nice persona. This was familiar territory.

"I would know. I work there." You motioned for her to follow you to the couch. "I'm gonna pick your apples soon."

"Daddy's home now. I don't know if you can." Regina sat with her shins tucked under her, leaning her side against the back of the couch. You sat a comfortable distance away, facing her with your legs crossed.

"What did your dad do again?" You asked, trying to remember.

"I don't fucking know." She gestured with her hand. "Human trafficking?"

"I hear it's a lucrative business." You grinned, enjoying talking like this with your old friend.

"We should start a company. Who'd you think would have a good price at our school?" She looked so excited at the prospect of talking shit about your peers. It was a little adorable, but in the way that a man-eating beast was. Like a devil cougar or something like that.

"I think that's eugenics, Reg." You muttered, jokingly wincing. "That's problematic."

"What, are you gonna sue me?" She leaned forward, inclining her head cheekily. "With what money?"

"With daddy's money, you fuck!" You laughed. "What money are you gonna sue me with? Wait, let me guess, uhh... Daddy's money."

"I'll have you know, it might be mommy's money." She widened her eyes dramatically as she began to tell the story. "I did some snooping around, and it just so happens daddy might not be the breadwinner after all, because-"

As Regina got into telling you about Mrs George's strange investments, which she and Kylie both had been pretty sure were pyramid schemes, you listened keenly and watched as she spun the story. She'd always been a good storyteller, good with performing and making the room pay attention to her. It was a shame she'd started to use her powers for evil.

Sitting here, Regina George on your dirty couch in her designer clothes and all, listening as she told you about the most mundane things in her life, made you feel warm in a way you hadn't in a long time. Loneliness was a quiet thing. It snuck up on you and you hadn't even noticed.

You hoped she wouldn't duck out of your life again.

Notes: Written late at night. My eyes don't work like they used to before. Might've missed some spelling errors or weird grammar. I'll return to it after I've slept. Also, in case you haven't noticed, this is firmly set in 2004. This story takes elements from both films, 2004 and 2024, but time-wise it is 2004. Another thing, I changed up the chapter titles. Originally, the first part was the prologue but then I thought about it and it really isn't like a prologue. So, that was chapter 1 and this is chapter 2. Bye-bye, party people.

Taglist: One person asked for this lmao, but I am but a servant of the people. Comment on this post if you wanna be tagged on the next part when it comes out. Disclaimer! Chapters will not usually come out this fast.

@autorasexy

#mean girls #mean girls 2024 #mean girls 2004 #mean girls fanfic #mean girls x reader #regina george x reader #regina george x you #regina george x oc #regina george x ofc #reader insert #no use of y/n #regina george #lesbian regina george #fic: yard work

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jawllines · 1 year

Text

But how could she voice this? Nobody else had made her request it explicitly, so she really wasn’t sure what to request. Any version of her saying it just sounds more and more pathetic, to speak the words aloud would be embarrassing.

“You want me to stay?” Harry offered, after some time, and she was grateful for it as she nodded, “Just in the room?”

Her face feels warm as her eyes glance over to the other side of her bed, “It’s. . .it’s a big bed,” she told him, swallowing thickly, “You can lay down if you're tired.”

Harry’s lips quirk into a tiny, halfway smile, and Y/N had seen that look enough to know some form of a taunt typically follows it, “Oh I see,” he began, lifting himself up onto her bed and crawling over her body to get to the side she offered, “Was this a ploy to get me into your bed? You could have just asked, Sweetheart, but I would have asked for dinner first.”

Y/N finds out a secret and Harry finds a rat

part 1

part 2

iii.

Y/N has never been so embarrassed.

The hike was her idea; granted, she’s not a big hiker to begin with, and she hardly believes the sneakers she wore were meant for more than casual ambling in a park — but she thought it could be fun. After being cooped up in her flat for a little over a week, she was desperate just to breathe in the fresh air and feel the sun on her skin. It was one thing to be locked away when the weather was bitter and uninhabitable, but it was finally getting warmer, and whispers of Spring were carried in the wind. An open window could only preclude her feelings of claustrophobia for so long before she needed to go outside.

Since Harry could typically get Thomas to agree to things she’d never thought he might agree to before, he was the one she asked. However, due to the recent attempted kidnapping, even he seemed reluctant to the proposal and Y/N had imagined her plans had fallen through before they’d even truly been constructed. At least she did until Harry sent her a message a little past midnight the following night, with a link that directed her to a trail’s website. Would this be okay? His message read, and Y/N grinned so hard her cheeks were sore as she replied with “Yes!” ten times.

Y/N is not one who would find joy in exerting herself but she was filled to the brim and gushing with an eagerness she hasn’t felt since being a child, the night before visiting a zoo. She did not for a second consider how sore she’d probably be, especially from the number of hills this trail included along the side of what wasn’t big enough to be a mountain but was certainly large enough to give the illusion. All she could focus on was the thought of the wind kissing her face and the sound of morning birds singing. Aching muscles be damned, she could just take a hot bath when they got back, and maybe she could persuade Harry to massage her feet if it was that bad.

By the time Y/N woke up Friday morning, Harry was already in her kitchen preparing breakfast but that was hardly shocking. It was her second time witnessing him outside of a pressed suit and she couldn’t say that she was disappointed; Harry looked awfully cute in his hiking clothes. A hoodie that swallowed him up, athletic shorts pulled over black leggings, and a pair of bright red shoes that she could not imagine him plucking out of a store. A beanie was nestled over his head, but he had a hair clip locked around the edge of it, almost like he had it on standby in case he got too warm.

He turned to face her, smiling warmly as he flipped a pancake, “I didn’t know if you had a water bottle, so I brought an extra one,” he greeted her, “And I bought some of those warm packs you activate by shaking in case it’s chillier than we anticipated.”

“We need to get a stroller for your kitties so they can come too,” Y/N told him, as she hiked herself up on the barstool beside the counter, Harry working on the side adjacent to her. She rested her face against her fist, watching him putter around putting together the meal. There was something imminently gratifying about putting a man to work in her kitchen while she swung her legs and waited patiently to be fed, so she reveled in that feeling while he answered.

“I actually do have a stroller,” he told her, “But since this is our first time, I thought it would be better to see the trail before bringing them.”

With a sigh, Y/N agreed. Harry has brought them over three times since the first and Y/N enjoyed every second of it – he’d explained to her that as long as she doesn’t mind, he’ll bring them over often. This way he gets to spend extra time with them while he’s working and Y/N gets her animal fill as they meander throughout her flat, making it their second home. He’s even left them there overnight once, when he would be returning the following morning but wasn’t necessarily going home (their schedules make no sense to her, not even a little, and she wondered when the hell they ever slept), and Y/N really liked that. She woke up to Gremlin at her feet and Goose nestled against her breast beneath the blankets (and if she hadn’t been so sure that moving would stir them both, she would have taken a picture to send to him).

They ate breakfast and Y/N pulled on an outfit she hoped would be multifunctional no matter what weather they would face or how much exerting herself would make her sweat. Even the walk to the parking garage lifts her with excitement, happy to finally be leaving the flat.

“You’re awful chipper,” Harry remarked, following close behind her, his fingers looped around his keys, “Normally for this early in the morning, you’ve grumbled about something by now.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, “Of course I’m chipper,” she walked around to the passenger seat of the car, “I’m free for a little while! You forget that I’m fucking stuck in there until someone breaks me out, while you can come and go as you see fit, really.” She smiled at the thought of the sun hitting her face, “It’s going to be so nice today too – I can’t wait.”

“Mm, it is going to be nice,” he agreed mildly, “I’ll keep you out for as long as I can, yeah? But I’m sure Thomas will be blowing my phone up.” He smiled gently, “Things are still. . .fresh.”

Y/N buckled herself in, brows dipped, “Hm? Did you guys not catch the guy? I thought you did and that’s the only reason I’m being uncaged.”

“We did,” Harry’s lips straightened out, a dubious glint flickered past his gaze before he snuffs it out, “For the most part.”

“For the most part?” She repeated with a small sigh – she wasn’t in the mood for twenty questions, she just wanted him to be straightforward.

Harry hummed, “Yes, they found the “mugger” – it was his son,” Y/N’s brows raised, “Both have been dealt with appropriately for now but of course, everyone is still concerned that this wasn’t just an isolated incident. Things are going to be. . .a little tighter lately, so I was surprised Thomas agreed to this in the first place, but I did push pretty hard.”

She smiled and nudged his shoulder, “That’s why I like you,” she told him, “Dunno’ what you’re doing to bewitch him but keep doing it, I like doing things.”

The day had started out so well; Y/N isn’t sure how Harry had found this trail but it was pretty. It started out as a gravel patch of parking lot with a big wooden sign that read Green Haven Trail in big, bold letters, and to the left of it, a small brick building housing a restroom. It had rained last night, so the air smelled of moist earth and morning dew, and it’s a scent that she believes she normally takes for granted. Right now she isn’t though – right now she feels it slip through her nares, down to her lungs. She was more than pleased that it isn’t humid or else each breath would feel wet, and her skin would feel sticky, and she thinks that would have made her sad. Her first time out of the flat in how long, only to be accosted by unpleasant weather? Surely, she’d just lock herself in her room at that point.

Most of the trail was paved but there were clear sections deeper in, where people had broken off from the designated path and wore down the grass and foliage to create a new route. If she couldn’t see where this off-path trail led, then she wouldn’t have suggested they go near it, but she could make out that it guided them to a mini waterfall from a creak. And after the rain, she knew it would be overflowing and beautiful, so she suggested they go toward it with the best pleading gaze she could give him (though it certainly wasn’t necessary – she believes Harry is a man of strong will typically, but if she asks him for something he typically gives in pretty easy).

For a moment he seemed hesitant but eventually agreed, so they went toward it, and Y/N marveled at the rocks, the surfaces altering from smooth to rough and jagged, how the water toppled over them dropping down into the large well of the creek. If the weather was just a little warmer she would suggest sticking her feet in but it was still a little too brisk for it. So she made a mental note of this place for mid-June when the hike would undoubtedly be miserable in the summer heat, but the best part of it would be sinking their feet into this well of cold water and kicking them as they cooled down and ate a snack. Y/N assumed she would be with Harry again because. . .well, she usually is with him, isn’t she?

They stayed there for a while for a short break, since they’d been walking for about thirty minutes uphill at that point. Y/N’s legs were already tired and she was in the middle of trying to find an excuse for them to turn around and start making their way back before she was really tired – but there was no need. No, why would she need a reason for them to turn around when she unwittingly gives them one?

They had to trek down a small hill to get within closer visual distance of the waterfall and search the creek with their gazes for any potential fish or tadpoles swimming around in the greenish water. Going downhill to get there, meant going uphill to return, and while it wasn’t steep there was a decent-sized slope. Several jutted pieces of stone and rock and root should have made it a relatively easy way back up. Yet somehow, when Y/N tries to balance the sole of her shoe against the curve of a rock, she loses her footing. Her body rocks face first into the dirt, and she knocks her knee against a stone and cuts up her palm from the tree root she’d been gripping onto. Before she could tumble all the way down to the creek, Harry placed his hands on her to keep her steady, one at her hip and the other between her shoulder blades, “Holy shit!” He cried out, his voice echoing in the empty woods, “Are you alright?”

So now, they definitely had to turn back, because Y/N had dirt smudged on her face, a few leaves in her hair (though Harry did pluck those out for her while they walked), her knee was sore, and her palm was cut up. Y/N doesn’t cry but she wants to, not just because her knee aches, or her hand throbs, or the dirt makes her face feel gross and grimy. All of that she could deal with well enough.

What she couldn’t deal with, was the fact that she fell in the first place, in front of Harry of all people. How embarrassing – god, she couldn’t stop thinking about it but she wanted to wipe it from her brain entirely and pretend it never happened. But Harry is Harry, there is no way that he would ever let this go without making a sly comment about it every now and then. Especially once she’s all patched up and he knew for sure she was okay.

She kept replaying the moment in her head: the squawky sound that left her mouth, how dumb she must have looked as she scrambled to stop herself only for Harry to be the one to halt her movement. He probably thought she looked like an idiot – no, she knows he did because why wouldn’t he? If it had happened to anyone but her, Y/N would have found some humor in it, and maybe she was just a bad person but there were compilations of people falling on the internet for a reason.

Under different circumstances, Y/N would avoid the bathroom at all costs because it seemed like a staff infection waiting to happen but she tried to get into this one, only to find it locked. So not only did she embarrass herself in front of Harry, she had to sit in the car for forty minutes, uncomfortable, her knee aching and her face dirty. At the realization, she felt like she really could cry then, but the only thing that stopped her was the potential for further embarrassment.

“It could have been worse,” Harry tried to soothe her once they were back in the car, “Had I not been there to save your life, you could be in the creek right now.”

“Shut up, or I’ll shove you in a creek,” she grumbled, brows furrowed at him, “Didn’t you promise to return me unscathed? This is coming out of your paycheck.” He only chuckles at her.

The drive home was uneventful, and so was the walk up to her flat. As soon as they get through the doors, Harry directs her to the bathroom and says he’d be in there in a moment with a first aid kit, and Y/N has no fight left to argue. She went in, avoided looking at her face, and plopped down right on the toilet seat, waiting patiently for him. Harry appeared, looking a little too cute out of his leggings, now only in shorts that rode up pretty high on his thigh. He’s got nice legs – Y/N’s been thinking about them often lately.

First, he tends to her palm, flipping it over and pouting at the sight of it, “Your poor hand,” he muttered sympathetically, caressing the flesh just below her thumb, “Does it hurt?”

Y/N is unsure if he’s mocking her with how sweet his voice was, but she doesn’t fuss over it – honestly, she kind of likes it, “Yeah, a little.” She replied and he clicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth.

“Poor thing,” he reached inside the kit, “We’ll get you sorted.”

After he cleaned it, then slathered it in the antibiotic ointment, and wrapped it up with gauze and a bandage, he got a washcloth wet. It took her a second to realize what he was about to do, until he was suddenly closer to her face than she expected, tenderly swiping away at the dirt smudged over her face. Y/N has trouble keeping her breathing even then.

This is the closest she and Harry had been since the night they kissed, and she couldn’t keep her brain from conjuring memories of it. Especially when his lips were looking particularly soft today, and slick from whatever chapstick he was using, almost like they were begging for another mouth to press against them. The gentle curve of his cupid’s bow and the pout of his mouth supplicates for her lips to trap it between them. To relive last week, how eagerly he’d kissed her, how his hands had slid to her waist, how he squeezed her –

Honestly, Y/N couldn’t stop thinking about it. She was skilled at acting indifferent to things like this and she’s certain Harry didn’t notice it was dawdling within her thoughts because he would have brought it up – but that didn’t mean it wasn’t. Every day, a few times a day, Y/N is suddenly accosted with a slew of images, all of which involve Harry's puckered mouth.

Because she’d like to do it again – she wanted to do it again, but there was no way to just ask for it, was there? Not without being weird about it. At least that night they had been drinking, and if they really wanted to they could blame it on liquid loosening prior inhibitions. If Y/N was asking for it completely sober, then there was no turning back from that – then it was something they had to talk about and that’s difficult. Not to mention, she shouldn’t be canoodling with her bodyguards anyway. The time with Niall was a one-off, and she’d never had the urge or desire to do it again (well, maybe once or twice, but that was neither here nor there) – but she wanted it again with Harry. Honestly, she thinks she wants more than just the kiss with Harry.

And they hadn’t even really discussed the first one yet! Why would they tack on a second kiss?

With Niall, it was much easier; she sucked him off, and he came in her mouth, they laughed about it and then tried to finish the movie they were watching before both of them promptly fell asleep. When they woke up there was no awkward tension lingering in the air, she swatted him with a pillow so that he would get off the couch and go with her to a new cookie place as he’d promised. Life settled back in as normal, Y/N barely remembered what his cum tasted like after eating an iced sugar cookie, and that was that.

But with Harry, the whole night persists in her memories. How he admitted to being jealous thinking about her with Niall, and how he wants to be her favorite guard. The taste of his tongue and the impression of his mouth pushed against hers. How he pressed his thumb into her chin and pulled her lips open wider for himself, how heady the feeling was, the caress of his fingers on her hips, her wrists, her jaw. Her cheeks warm when she thinks about crawling into his lap, how she felt him hard beneath her before he pulled away – before he stopped it from going any further.

Y/N couldn’t help but wonder just how far it would have gone had he not withdrawn from her.

“Stop looking at me like that,” Harry murmured, and only then does Y/N realize that she’d been staring directly at him as he still carefully wiped away the dirt, “I’m getting shy.”

Brows pinching toward each other, Y/N frowns at him, “You’re like three centimeters from my face, where the hell else am I supposed to look?” She praises herself for willing the words so quickly from her mouth, instead of floundering how she wanted to when she’d been caught gawking (Harry always teased her that she reverted to her extreme “brat-ish tendencies” once cornered and she continuously proved him right).

Harry has a knowing smile that Y/N wants to flick off his face like he could read her mind through each of her pores. He always kind of had that look on him though, that would suggest he knew what Y/N was thinking and feeling before maybe even she did. It annoyed her more than anything.

“You’re being rather rude to someone who saved a clumsy little thing like you from drowning in a creek.” He murmured, standing up from the spot he’d been kneeling before her and tossing the wet cloth into the sink with a wet slap. He holds one finger out to her, a silent command to stay put, and Y/N finds herself listening to him until he returns with a bottle of water. With that in one hand, he pulled open her medicine cabinet and retrieved the paracetamol, popping the cap open and shaking two into his palm, “You need to take these or your knee is going to be sore. Say ahhh,” he held them in his fingers, hovering them over her mouth.

She scoffed, “My knee is already sore. Give me that, you dick,” she clasps her hands around his, swiping the pills and pushing them past her lips before grabbing for the bottle of water.

“There you go,” he ignored her insult, “That’s a good girl – y’know, you’re a brat, but you listen well when you want to. Kind of like a fussy cat.”

A flush of warmth ran from her face, down her throat, and across her chest – the praise, no matter how backhanded, was still praise and Y/N felt her veins twinkle with it. Harry doesn’t seem to notice how it affects her, and if he does, then he is kind enough not to be a pest for once and keep it to himself. He held out his hand for her to take, helping her lift off the seat, “You aren’t limping, which is good, but we’ll still ice it. If you show up to your parent’s house with a bruised knee and scratched-up hand, I’m sure it wouldn’t be appreciated.”

The reminder makes her grimace – she’d almost forgotten about that. Adam was the first to tell her about it weeks and weeks ago, and then her father reminded her just last week, yet she let it slip her mind again. Willfully she lets it slip from her mind, neglecting the thought – it was always a little awkward meeting with everyone. When she was little, they would coo over her and how cute she was which she had enjoyed at the time, but she had long since passed the age of being cooed at because she was in a pretty dress. And when she was little, she could fuck off and play pretend somewhere with her cousins or by herself and nobody questioned anything because she was like 7 years old and barely knew how to divide numbers.

Y/N longs for the solace of being little and not needing to be socially present during family events; life was much easier when she could check out and nobody cared.

“Are you going with me?” Y/N inquired as she followed him out of the bathroom, tugging down the zipper of her jacket and wiggling it off her arms.

“Hm?”

“To the family thing,” she dropped the jacket in her hamper, leaving her in a sports bra but she thinks nothing of it while she waits for his response, “Were you the one going with me?”

Harry pauses, if only for a brief second, and Y/N sees a look she’s never seen before flicker through his face before he’s smiling again, “Aw, cute! You want me to be there with you?”

She did, for some reason, she felt like it would be better with him there. Adam and Niall always get pulled off at things like this, but Y/N felt like Harry might stay by her side for it. She had nothing to base this feeling on beyond just knowing it in her gut.

And when she doesn’t grumble or call him an asshole for teasing her, Harry must realize she’s serious, because the gleam in his eyes softens to one that is gentle and pitying, “It won’t be me accompanying you, though I would love to,” he told her, “I’m wanted elsewhere that day.”

She frowned at him, already feeling the whine bubble in her chest before he could finish his sentence, “Just tell them that you don’t want to do that and you want to do this instead.”

“As much as the princess’s word is considered –”

“Eat shit.”

“ – I believe that request would be denied. Thomas wants me for a more delicate and potentially violent matter, so that’s where I’ll be.” He sighed, thumbing over his eyebrow, “Though you do manage to be delicate and violent as well, maybe I could ask for a trade.”

Y/N flipped him off before plopping down on the couch, watching as he began to kick off his shoes at the doorway now that they were settling inside. For a fleeting moment, she wondered if the reason Harry wasn’t going was more than him being needed elsewhere but she couldn’t come up with good enough logic to back the claim. Unless he was the Harry from her childhood, and he was desperately trying to avoid a situation where that fact may be found out, but even that doesn’t seem like his speed. He was much too casual and unconcerned for her to think he’d go to that level just to keep up some weird little secret.

That doesn’t mean she’s a hundred percent convinced, but she just dwells on it a little less.

“It’ll be okay, you know,” Harry says after a while, as he’s opening up her windows, pulling the curtains open to let sunlight pour into her room; it glitters off her coffee table and places a glare over her tv, and the sweet chirp of birds still singing early in the morning fills her flat (along with the sound of cars driving below them but the morning traffic had slowed considerably by that point), “Just a few hours of family shit, and then you’ll be done. Can come home and take a shower and relax afterward.” Y/N follows him around the room as he goes to her other window, “It won’t be so bad. Maybe you’ll even have a little fun.”

She doesn’t have it in her to fight him, “Yeah, maybe,” she offered quietly in return, leaning her head back and letting her eyes flutter closed, trying to ignore the throbbing in her knee, “It just feels weird to see them is all, and having nothing to show for the years that have passed since I’ve seen them last. Like. . .I dunno, I have to sit and listen to everyone else and their successes and I’m happy for them but I can’t help but. . .wish that I had something too. But all I’ve got is attempted kidnappings and a hobby that I haven’t perfected when I’ve got nothing but time to perfect it.” Y/N puffs a mirthless laugh.

“Self-depreciation doesn’t look good on you,” he clicks his tongue to the roof of his mouth and he sounds closer than he was before but she keeps her eyes shut, “Why don’t you start selling your art?”

That does make her peek an eye at him, “Listen, I know I’m having a little pity party, but I don’t need you being mean and adding to it.”

“I’m not being mean,” he retrieved a package of frozen vegetables from her freezer before he made his way to sit down beside her, body turned so he faced her directly, “I’m giving you an idea. Your art is good, and all the comments people have made on it in class tell you how cute the things you draw are. So yeah, maybe they wouldn’t sell in some smarmy art gallery, but they would definitely make a cute sticker on a water bottle or a laptop case. And what’d you get your degree in, wasn’t it business related? Marketing?” Y/N’s face pinches up.

“So?”

“So put two and two together, Darling, you’re smart,” he told her, “You make cute stickers and you have some understanding of marketing – start selling them online!”

It. . .wasn’t the worst idea she’s ever heard. The people in the class had called her drawings cute, even the instructor had told her they were charming in a cutesy way. If other people liked them – if Harry really thought that other people would like them enough to stick them somewhere they had to look often – that would give her something to do, wouldn’t it? Something to focus on. . .something that could entirely be her own, and didn’t have to be a question of her safety, with no worry about getting her from point A to point B, and her name wouldn’t be out there. She could do it all under a different name! Loads of Etsy shops and the like don’t have the artist’s real name at all.

It could just be her own little thing, and if it didn’t work, she could scrap the idea and pretend it never happened. But it was something. . .it could be hers.

“Hm.” That is all she replied, despite the cogs clicking and turning in her brain.

Harry sighed, plopping down in the space beside her, “I reckon you just like being difficult,” he told her, stretching one long leg out so it was sitting beneath the table, “Hm? I think you like trying to rile me up.”

“Maybe.”

. . .

Y/N has been having nightmares.

As a child, she used to get them a lot. Sometimes they could be vivid; feel as real as a memory and Y/N would have trouble separating what was real and what was a dream. It was an unfortunate byproduct of a burdened subconscious, or at least that’s what the child psychologist told Thomas. And he then took a far more strict and tender approach to isolate her from the world of her parent’s work, which Y/N never really understood. Why wait until a child begins to show emotional distress before keeping them from something potentially emotionally distressing?

They come and go, depending on the current state and status of her life. Times of stress brought them prolonged and heavy, bogging down her brain like waterlogged branches in a typically dry terrain. A monsoon of shadowy figures, hushed low voices, and crimson puddles. Trying to close her eyes but they’re being held open, trying to move through dense air with gelatinous limbs, trying to scream but her voice just barely leaves her throat. It’s nothing but frustration bubbling to her boil through her veins in the worst way, and when she finally does wake up, it lingers for a few minutes as she acclimates to being conscious.

Once she has one, she’ll have them almost nightly until the problem is addressed or they eventually wither away. She doesn’t bring them up much – Niall and Adam know about them, but Thomas isn’t aware, though she doesn’t think he’d actually care. And she isn’t sure if her parents were even aware of her first round of them when they had concerned the nannies and guards enough to report them to Thomas. If they did know, they never brought it up.

So she guesses it made sense that nobody alerted Harry to their existence if they were to ever occur while he was there.

They had started happening two weeks ago, shortly after the attempted kidnapping. It was scary, though it didn’t get very far, knowing that someone could find her location so easily was worrisome for future endeavors. And had this guy been more tactful and maybe a touch more forceful, then the situation could have gone horrendously bad – she could have been in a lot of trouble, and when her mind starts wandering to what could have been waiting for her. . .it’s awful.

For the most part, they had been pretty tame. Y/N wakes up disoriented and groggy around 4 AM, she wanders out to the living room to find whoever was there that night, and if they were awake she’d make them both tea and stay up for a while. Niall was there the first night, and when she suddenly appeared in front of him with her hand stretched out, holding a mug to him, he gave her a knowing look, “Hm? Nightmare?” She nodded, and he made room for her on the couch, moving his computer, his iPad, or whatever he had brought over to keep himself busy for the night, “Do you want to talk about it?” She shook her head, “Fine, then you’re g’na have to listen to me rant about this fucking series I’m watching because. . . .”

Adam asks fewer questions and most of the time is asleep when she wanders out but when her door clicks open he’s pulled from his sleep with a snort, “You okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Mm,” he would hum, “Go back to bed then, I’m not ready to socialize.”

“I’ll just be up for a little, you can stay asleep,” she’d assure him, but she didn’t want to be alone, so she would make her tea and then sit on her feather blue recliner (that she was surprised he isn’t inhabiting) with her phone. Adam would say he’d stay up with her but make no move to change his position, so he always ended up back to sleep anyway.

Bill and Martha were usually asleep too when she wandered out, but they were never ones for much conversation anyway. They would open their eyes, see she is in no imminent danger, then go right back to bed and that was that (nothing and nobody could make her feel more like a little kid than those two, and Thomas when she does see him). She would putter around her kitchen quietly, but take her tea into her room, wrapped up in her blankets and clicking through Youtube videos on her telly, comforted by the knowledge she isn’t alone in the flat.

Some days there is nobody there with her at night, maybe an extra guard lingering outside the building, but no one inhabits her living room. Those nights Y/N is suddenly confronted with the harsh reminder that she lives in a constant state of fear, gnawing at her lip, jumping at every creak or click that echoed against the walls. It makes her feel like an idiot so she doesn’t bring it up to anybody, that on a regular night being alone can be weird, but on a night she’s had a bad dream it could be weird and long. It was stupid and made her feel like a child.

Tonight, for whatever reason, the dream was a lot rougher than it had been. While the prior nightmares were more nondescript things and hazy situations that she could just tell were bad but did not have comprehensible images of – this was much more lucid. Every touch felt like a burn against her skin, the hand cupped over her mouth and squeezed her nose shut stealing her breath away, the heart racing panic struck her fast, and her fingertips felt numb. She was thrashing, her throat sore from screaming, she needed help – she needed it right then, but there was nobody there. She was alone, she’s always been alone, she’s never safe, never, never, never –

“Y/N!”

Her eyes split open, the beat of her heart pounding through her chest and ringing through her ears, and her trembling hands stay still at her sides. It took her a few silent, panicked moments before she realized she’d been woken up from a dream, staring at the figure who slowly, but surely, becomes Harry through her bleary gaze. Almost instantaneously relief floods through her, and icy spikes that dotted her vessels are now replaced with warmth, melting them. Y/N isn’t sure if the comfort is brought by the fact that she knows she’s awake so much as it is brought by seeing Harry – he usually showed up in her dream, and dream her was always reassured by his presence. His face usually meant whatever was plaguing her was finished – whatever shadowy, dark figure digging their nails into her arm dissipated.

It was not until Harry spoke her name again that Y/N finally realized she’d been dreaming but she was awake now. Her eyes burn and her cheeks are wet – she’d been crying? Her bones feel stiff and creaky as she pushes herself from the mattress, pressing her knuckles against her eyes to try and rub the sleep from them. “You were having a bad dream?” Harry’s voice is low, his tone gentle, like he was creeping up on a resting bear and was worried to startle it.

Y/N nodded wordlessly. The most he gets from her is a small hum as she tries to organize herself and her thoughts; she isn’t used to someone being here as she wakes up, staring at her warily, so she tries to force herself to speed it up. She didn’t want to worry him. And now that she thinks about it, when was the last time he’d spent the night here? He probably didn’t even know she had dreams like this to begin with.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Harry pressed carefully, and there was a small thud of four feet landing on the bed. She looked over to see Goose pad over to her, rubbing up against her torso and finding a spot in her lap before a low rumble of purrs overcame her.

“What time is it?” Y/N inquired.

Harry looks at his watch, “2 AM.”

“Too late to talk about it,” she murmured, though she still felt shaken up. Her hands tremble as she smoothes them down Goose’s back, searching for more comfort in the soft fur, a wobbly rise and fall of each breath from her chest, “Was I being loud?”

Harry gave her a small, empathetic smile, “Just a little,” he told her, “We could hear you,” it took her a second to realize we meant him and the cats, “And Goose was sitting outside of your door. At first I thought maybe you were awake, talking on the phone or something but you started yelling for help.”

Grimacing, she frowns, at the image of Harry clambering to get up and burst through her door, overwrought with worry and his adrenalin spiking. His job – the whole reason he is here – is to keep her safe. So how horrifying is it to hear that one objective may be compromised in the middle of the night, on a floor way too high for someone to have snuck through a window? “I’m sorry, that was – that’s probably scary.”

“Yeah, it definitely wasn’t my favorite experience,” he agreed, “But I’m glad I could wake you up from it.” She scratched between Goose’s ears, feeling warm that the cat was concerned enough to sit outside her door once she heard her. She’s sure Gremlin is still blissfully sleeping wherever he was originally. “Well, I’ll let you go back to sleep. Call me if you need anything.”

Y/N had thought that she was feeling better – she was awake, and she knew she was awake, so there was no reason for the same rimy panic that had been suffocating her to return at the mention of Harry leaving. Nor was there a reason for her to reach out and grab his wrist before he could get too far, a pitiful refusal pulled from her lips that feel sore and dry, she’s sure from her own teeth. Harry was safe – he couldn’t leave this soon after she’d woken up, she still needed a little bit – still wanted to be near him, and to hear him talk or even just sit silently at his side.

“You want me to stay?” Harry offered, after some time, and she was grateful for it as she nodded, “Just in the room?”

Her face feels warm as her eyes glance over to the other side of her bed, “It’s. . .it’s a big bed,” she told him, swallowing thickly, “You can lay down if you're tired.”

“Fuck off,” she grumbled, but it held little spite to it. Y/N wiggles back down beneath her covers, and Goose – disturbed but never grouchy – walks to the side, waits for Y/N to find a position she’s content in, and then returns. Y/N lays on her side so Goose tucks herself along her belly as she likes to, curling her face into her paws. Gremlin, who must have finally roused from his own blissful slumber, appeared on the bed at Harry’s feet before taking a seat, his tail undulating behind himself, waiting patiently for Harry to snuggle beneath the blankets.

“Had I known you slept on a cloud every night, I would have asked for this sooner,” Harry said quietly, breaking through the silence of the room, only previously broken by the whirring of her fan above them, “It smells good in here too.”

Y/N watches him closely, as his head is against her pillow. Nobody else has ever laid in her bed before, and Y/N only ever sleeps on the left side of it, so she’s sure the right feels just as it did when she bought it. It’s weird to see someone there – but it only feels natural that it would be Harry, for whatever reason. Among the cotton, rosy pink duvet cover, in a long sleeve undershirt, his body having disappeared up to his shoulders snuggled beneath the comforter. He looks cute, especially when he turns to face her, and gives her a big closed-mouth smile that she told him in the past made him look like a pleased frog.

“You’re comfortable?” Y/N inquired and once Harry nodded, she finally closed her eyes again, “That’s good.”

Some time passes. Y/N is unsure how long, but she’s almost certain that she’s fallen asleep until Harry's voice, syrupy and smooth as it always is, slithers into her ear, “I know you don’t want to talk about it and that’s fine,” he murmured, “But I just want you to know, I would never let anything or anyone hurt you. Never.” .

She falls asleep easily then.

. . .

Y/N used to have nightmares when she was younger, Harry had vague memories of that.

“I had a nightmare that a bad guy tried to kill me again,” she told him casually one day when they were on the swings, like it was the most normal conversation in the world, “It really sucked. They were super mean.”

“Did you get away?” Harry remembered being concerned, even as a child. Y/N was younger than him, not by much, but enough that he’d felt a sense of responsibility for her. Harry hated his bad dreams, so he empathized with her plight. Whenever he had a bad dream, his mum usually came into his room and comforted him, but Y/N told him once that her mum didn’t like being woken up in the middle of the night for something not urgent. If she had a bad dream and woke up scared but the sun wasn’t out, she would hug her teddy tight and will herself back to sleep – that’s what she had told him, at least.

With a shrug of her small shoulders, she kicked her legs back and forth in smooth glides, “Dunno’, I woke up before he could.”

He was concerned then and he was concerned now.

When Y/N offered him the spot next to her, Harry didn’t hesitate for even a moment. If she was scared enough to stuff away that prideful, bratty side of her to request it, then Harry wouldn’t make her second guess herself. Instead, he tried to make it as normal as possible, with a small tease as he crawled in beside her. He’d resigned himself to the idea of staying awake until he knew for sure she was fast asleep. It took ten minutes or so, but eventually, her measured, even breaths and sleepy sighs lull him into his own slumber.

Harry wakes two or three hours later, warm. Warmer than he had been when he fell asleep, which he wouldn’t have questioned if not for how icy cold Y/N typically kept her room. For a brief moment, he thinks that maybe her fan shut off and he made the conscious decision to get up and turn it back on for her, but when he moves, he feels a weight on his arm that stopped him. A weight that is different from that of Goose or Gremlin.

Once he opened his eyes, Harry found that Y/N was snuggled up against him.

It wasn’t in a sweet, movie-like way as things like this typically went in stories and movies. It was in a very Y/N-like way though – her left leg thrown across his hip, her body flush against him, her face halfway jammed in his chest and her arm stretched over his neck; she’s about one sleepy shuffle away from smothering him with her bicep if she moved just right. Harry thinks it’s very telling that she does not sleep with someone often because she had somehow rolled herself all the way over to his side when there had been a good distance between them to start.

Carefully, he began to reshape her, moving her arm from over his throat. Harry had been making a conscious effort to be gentle so she stayed asleep, but a small grumble lifted into the air around them that sounds close to “Stop it.” but when Harry says her name, there is no response. Instead, she wiggles her shoulders, her arm finding a place around his waist instead, and scooted closer.

Tch, he rolled his eyes but he could feel a fond smile pulling at his cheeks, She’s even a brat in her sleep.

Harry lets himself enjoy it for a little while. The warmth of Y/N pressed to his side, the peach-scented lotion still permeating from her skin, the feel of each rise and fall from her chest as she took a breath. His insides feel cotton-soft and melty, he traces circles in the center of her back and waits patiently for her to fall deeper into her head. Once she does, he tries again to carefully remove her from the glued position she’d been in, because while he likes being cuddled close to her, he knew she would be mortified if she woke up.

This time she goes easily, letting him lie her arm at her side before sliding his hand beneath her thigh, attentively guiding it off of his hip. Y/N stretches, and turned away from him, her arms sliding around a pillow and hugging her face against it. What a cuddly little thing, Harry thinks, she’s probably searching for something (or someone) to put her arms around the whole night. It makes his heart twist in his chest, a weird mix between an ache and a yearning for her. He wondered if these bad dreams would disappear if she always had someone there to cuddle to her body, like an oversized stuffy.

The idea of it has a pout forming on his lips. Y/N, in the time he’s known her, is driven heavily by physical affection that she is not receiving often. She may grouse when Adam touches her shoulder when he reaches over her head to get in the cabinet, but she leans into his hand. If Niall is around, chances are Y/N is touching him in some way, either with her legs across his lap, or their hips side by side (which. . .Harry has no right to feel an ugly twinge in his chest any time he sees it but that doesn’t stop it from happening). Martha wasn’t the soft type, but Harry had walked in on Y/N leaning against the pillow Martha held to her body while they watched the telly. When Harry had come to her room in a panic, just to see for himself that she was okay (after Otto’s botched kidnapping attempt), she melted against his knuckles that he couldn’t help but stroke against her cheeks.

Harry had met her parents several times – they were. . .kind as they could be, with what they do, but they were not the nurturing type. They were cool and distant, and even though Harry knows they love their daughter, and talk sweetly, they just didn’t seem like the type to cuddle and coddle. And instead of growing an aversion to touch, she grew too long for it, even in small doses, even from her bodyguards. Where else could she get it? Harry is certain if she went out with her friends she would be touchy and clingy, flopped over them in some way, shape, or form.

Gremlin moves relatively little with the change in positions, and Goose lets out an annoyed huff before following Y/N’s body, snuggling up against her back. It was almost disgustingly cute how much Goose enjoyed her girl time with Y/N; even though she was the less fickle of the two, she really didn’t warm up that easily to people but with Y/N, it only took a couple of days before she was sleeping in her lap. Harry thinks that not only are cats a good judge of character, but they seek out people who need healing, like little furry psychotherapists that say nothing but do plenty. Where he would normally be a bit jealous, he was glad that Goose had chosen Y/N to snuggle with and love on her.

Harry sighs to himself. It’s only a matter of time before Y/N realizes that she’s been right all along about knowing him, he was just holding his breath and waiting for it. In his head, when he’d started this, the idea of keeping it all a secret from her seemed easier. There would be no need to go into the details of why he left, to relive any of it, to divulge what he had done, or to break his promise to Thomas, to his father, to her father. He could go on with her like they were two strangers and his past didn’t matter. And Harry doesn’t know why it is so important to him that she didn’t think the sweet boy he was turned into the man he is today; it felt as though it broke the mirage of normalcy his childhood had there for a little while. If the image Y/N held in her head of him was altered, it would pull at his stomach and tug around his heart. The boy she knew was good, not a drop of blood on his hands – the man she knew now had hands covered in the murk and filth of gang politics, rivalries and wars, drugs and guns.

To keep the two mutually exclusive brought him more comfort.

But Y/N is perceptive and she recognized him almost immediately. As smart as she was, and as sneaky as she could be, he had a feeling deep in his gut that she would be seeking answers at her parent’s house. It would be easier if Harry wasn’t there too, so she wouldn’t have to sneak around him to do it. And if she finds out. . .well, Harry has accepted that it might happen and he could only hope that she isn’t too angry with him. In the grand scheme, it has changed very little of their dynamic. Harry is a completely different person than he was when he left this place – when he left her.

His biggest regret, looking back at it, was leaving her alone. Even before this title, when they were just kids playing, he always kind of felt like her unofficial bodyguard. Or even just a companion for her – she didn’t have many other friends, and for whatever reason, both of their parents (or more so his parents and Thomas) thought it was a fine idea to just have them play with one another. Harry thinks it would have been a one-time thing when his father was first getting heavily involved with them, however from what he had heard at the time, Y/N had requested him.

Or maybe requested was a strong word. He supposes the better way of phrasing it was when Harry's father told him that the little friend he made the week prior asked, “Where is Harry? Is he coming to play?” Which was a request enough for Thomas to invite him to a park that day. They saw each other pretty much weekly after that, depending on what was happening or the state of affairs the organization was in. Actually, Harry doesn’t even think Y/N remembers that much – he had a slightly bigger involvement in her life than he thinks she realizes. But when he speaks to Y/N about her childhood (or more, when she brings up a random anecdote), he finds that she doesn’t recall quite a few things about it. Like her brain had packed it away in storage boxes and stuffed it up in the attic – he’d once read that memory loss was an intrinsic, almost instinctual survival skill. Anything she deemed emotionally traumatic, she may have just conveniently booted from her head, and that. . .well, that might have been most of her years as a kid.

If he knows anything about her, he knew that she would be upset with him initially but he could only hope she moved past it. Harry would have loved to go with her to her family event, even if she found out with him there, then they could at least discuss it immediately or on the car ride home instead of her stewing over it. But Thomas and Garrison had pulled him aside for different matters – the ones he had described as much more violent than a dinner with a ton of members in a gang, surprisingly.

There might be a mole. That’s what Garrison had told him privately, that he didn’t trust Otto was in this alone; that nobody just knows where Y/N’s location is, barely anyone knows where she lives and this was an outlet mall 40-ish minutes away. It was just too convenient that Otto would know where she was without there being someone to tell him or some way of knowing. So everyone was under a microscope: Adam, Niall, Martha, Bill, and even some of the new people – Kai, Charlie, Betty, Rebecca. Harry understood why all of these people were on the list, but –

“Why not me?” He inquired, brows dipped, “I appreciate that I’m not, but I don’t understand why exactly.”

“You’ve been around since she was a kid,” he’d reminded Harry like he didn’t know, “There will always be a little more trust between us with you than the others. We know you wouldn’t let anything happen to her and you wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize your family.”

So while Y/N was with her family, he would be preoccupied snooping in places he probably doesn’t belong. It feels wrong to spy on the other bodyguards like this, and even the newbies; he feels guilt trickle through his chest when he is flicking through files of them. But he knew it had to be done. . .that Y/N’s safety was the top priority, even if it meant potentially betraying the trust of his colleagues.

He’s worried about what he might find. He’s worried about how Y/N would react if it was anyone close to her.

Worry soaks his brain, weighs it heavy, and drags his eyelids closed so he would stop watching the back of her sleeping head. He needed to sleep – maybe he should have kept her tucked against his side, cozy and warm because he’s sure he could have fallen right back to sleep then. He already knew he would spend at least ten more minutes contemplating what the next few weeks could bring them. The last time he’d had a little bit of trouble falling back asleep in her flat was after they kissed.

That kiss. . .Harry’s cheeks feel hot thinking about it. He could still feel her against his mouth if he focused hard enough; the taste of her tongue, how soft her lips were, the way she felt in his lap. He could also remember how embarrassing he’d been coming into her room saying he was jealous, which is the only part of the night he wants to forget. They probably needed to talk about it – when he’s speaking, and Y/N’s staring at his mouth, he feels like he should bring it up, but the words always stick to the back of his throat like honey.

It was inappropriate, Harry shouldn’t have agreed to do it but Y/N was so cute asking him and he’s human, after all. She wanted to kiss and Harry loved kisses and how could he deny her of such a simple pleasure in life? Especially when she said she didn’t get to do it often? It would have been criminal for him to refuse her! And Harry may participate heavily in unlawful, corrupt things, but he was no bloody monster – his job (in part) was to make Y/N happy, and if a kiss was what did that then so be it.

(At least this is what he convinces himself.)

Thinking about it either does two things for him: makes him hard, or gives him soft, twinkling feelings in his stomach. Thankfully, tonight it was the latter, so he revels in the sentiment and finds himself drowsy once again (he’d worked himself up enough that he felt wide awake which would not do – they still had a few hours to sleep and he wanted to make use of it). There is comfort in knowing that if Y/N starts to have her nightmares again, he’s right beside her – he wondered if he’d ever be able to be at her flat without wanting to be next to her.

What he said before she fell asleep, he meant – he wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt her, and that includes a shitty dream.

. . .

The gathering comes quicker than Y/N would have liked, but she figured it was better than the worry of it lingering like a gloomy cloud over her. Y/N had woken up that morning with a sort of weird relief tied into her anxiety; a premature peace was brought on by the fact the day was here and she was one step closer to getting it over with. No matter how unpleasant she would find it, most of these people were family, and if not family, then held a deep-seated, often fear-induced respect for her parents. It wasn’t like anyone would be blatantly mean to her or quiz her too hard on what she was doing, why she was doing it, where she was doing it, because. . .well, wouldn’t that make them look a touch suspicious? These sorts of questions would only be acceptable from her grandparents and that’s if they could talk about something other than how hard it is to use the bathroom the older they get.

Y/N kept reminding herself of this in the hours leading up to the party and it made her feel much better. They were doing this because her grandparents were coming in from Dublin, where they had settled after passing the torch to her parents (neither was from Ireland, but both were drawn to the lush green hills and a seemingly endless supply of Guinness which is all they could wish for in their old age). Everyone would be much more intrigued by them than they would be by her – she felt silly for getting so worked up over going. Was it not a little self-absorbed to think everyone would want to know what she was doing? Who gave a shit about what was going on with her besides a handful of other people?

She had told this line of thinking to Niall who would be accompanying her to the party. “That’s awfully pessimistic but if that’s what makes you feel better then yeah, they’ll probably be focused on what your grandparents are chatting about. They’ve got some brutal fucking stories, but your Nan is so cute, you don’t expect her to be telling them.”

It’s true; her Nan wears bright-colored cardigans and keeps her hair styled neatly in feather white curls. She knits, sews, and bakes cookies. When she was in town while Y/N was a child, she would take her (bodyguard-less, because “If something goes wrong, I’ll take care of it,”) to feed ducks in the park, or to pick out yarn for a blanket. Very normal, Nan-like things, so you really wouldn’t have guessed that she used to shoot people’s feet if they betrayed the family.

The weather was much warmer today so Y/N wore a dress – her mum and Nan liked her in dresses, and though Y/N had a love-hate relationship with the garment, she’d like to make them both happy. A light blue, patchwork material that came just above her knees, with loose puffy short sleeves and a square neckline. Niall gave her a mocking gasp when she walked out in it, “I was half expecting to see you in sweats and a tank top, I never see you all dressed up.”

“Because I’ve been on house arrest, dick,” she retorted, pulling her socks over her feet.

With a snort, he pulled his phone out, “Harry’s g’na be so fucking jealous he didn’t see you in a dress.”

“Huh?” Y/N slid her left foot into her shoe (the mary jane like shoe but was lacking the buckle that really made it a mary jane), “Why would he care?”

“Because you look cute and he’s a sucker for you looking cute,” Niall says it like it’s obvious, confusion reworking his face into a confused frown, “He coos over like every cute thing you do.”

“He’s just teasing.”

A scoff leaves him, “Whatever you say – now smile for the camera.”

Y/N smiled nice, big, and pretty, her head tilted dramatically and her middle finger stuck out toward him. It is the opposite of a deterrent for the blonde, who chortles as he takes rapid-fire pictures from varying angles, muttering something about, “See how you like it when this one goes to your Nan.” After the pictures are taken, she stands and smacks his arm lightheartedly. She wondered if Niall had actually sent it to Harry and her suspicions were confirmed just as soon as they got in the car to leave.

I can’t believe you’ve had such a cute dress and never told me or Goose, you know how much she loves dresses. She’s going to be so hurt.

The memory of Goose rolling around in a few of her dresses (and other various items of clothing but mostly her dresses) when Y/N was going through her closet (in a fit of pure boredom), plants itself into her brain. It makes her smile, even though she knew she’d be removing remnants of tortoiseshell fur off the fabric; she just wanted to scent her and all of her things. Harry told her Goose was in the midst of trying to adopt her but the paperwork is hard for a cat so it’d been taking some time.

Rolling her eyes, she let her thumbs dart around the keyboard.

Don’t use the cat as an excuse, pervert

The drive isn’t as awful and damning as she thought it might feel; it’s about 30 or so minutes out from where she stays depending on what traffic is like and Niall is on some soapbox about a drama he’s currently watching. She watches as the cityscape changes to suburbia, and from suburbia closer to the countryside. Not the house on stilts beside a river and a boat beside the car countryside, but the smarmy, affluent kind – where it wasn’t really countryside, but there were acres upon acres of land to own. The trees they pass are a blur of brown branches speckling with green as they shift to Spring, and bushes that never lost their green, to begin with.

Anxiety still bubbles in her belly but more from the prospect of seeing people she hasn’t seen in a while, than it was from being worried they’d ask how she was doing. Because she realized she could A. Always lie, and B. Harry did give her a good idea the other week about opening some form of online shop. She’d started laying the groundwork for it down, so she could at the very least talk out of her ass about what she was doing. That was if anybody asked – she wouldn’t just bring it up on her own.

Y/N finds that she just needs to tap into that part of herself she uses with her friends when she is able to go out with them. The part of her that completely erases any possibility that she has a life outside of what they were doing at that moment; narrowly avoiding questions that probe too deeply into her day-to-day, steering the conversations toward the person she was talking to and their life. Everyone likes to talk about themselves if you show you’re willing to listen, Y/N found that out relatively quickly.

Her parents’ house, much like them, is gaudy and extravagant and too big. It’s a pretty place, but she just doesn’t necessarily see the need for columns lining the stairs leading up to the house, or the large brass lion knocker on the front door. The chandelier in the foyer when you first enter is about a thousand crystals that cast glittering shadows along the slate grey walls. From the foyer, directly in front of the door is a bifurcated staircase, and beneath either set of stairs splitting off from the main row, there was an entryway to the kitchen and a sitting area, both just on the side of too big. She could already see people moving around in the kitchen and could tell that most people were in the backyard where the majority of this would be taking place.

This wasn’t the house she grew up in so there was no personal attachment to the walls, the floors, or the doorways. She doesn’t stop to linger around a spot on the wall she remembered being measured against when she was little, nor does she see little mirages of a small her running around the halls in a moment of nostalgia. Y/N walks through the foyer, her shoes clicking against the hardwood as she makes her way to the backyard.

There were a lot of people to greet and she was feeling overwhelmed, but nobody noticed (nor seemed to care) about her arrival. It made it easy to slink around, seeking out her grandma who she knew would be sitting beneath one of the tarps they had set up shielding away the blinding son. She was in the middle of speaking to a group of people, so Y/N was going to stand and wait patiently off to the side, but her eyes flickered over, a smile broke out over her face, and she waved her closer, “Is that who I think it is?” Y/N lowered to hug her, “God, you’re looking like an adult! Where the hell is your grandfather, someone call the lazy sod over.”

It was easy with her like it always was. Y/N spoke to her for a while, and hugged her granddad when he made his way over, (“Is your hair longer? Looks longer – you know, your mother had long hair when she first met your dad, like down to her bum, it was ridiculous! We used to beg her to get it cut, we thought it’d get trapped in a door.”). She spoke to them both briefly, and they told her they wanted to plan a trip where she came to Ireland for a visit, and she agreed immediately. Her Nan cooed and doted over her for a moment, pinching her cheek and murmuring something about her needing to sleep more, “I can tell you’re tired, you get that same look your dad gets. Why aren’t you sleeping? Is your mattress comfortable?”

Y/N thinks, if her life was slightly different, these questions might annoy her but she revels in them. No matter how old you get, it’s nice to have someone worry over you a bit; to not see Y/N often but to know when she looks tired, to want to know why she isn’t sleeping, to wonder if it is her mattress. This is the kind of normal worry, about her sleeping habits, or how she’s eating, or if she’s happy – not about rivals and strangers to her that feel contempt for her parents but somehow translate that to hurting her.

“We’ll talk later,” her Nan promised her, swatting her bum and giving her a small push, “Go mingle with your family, they’re missing you. And find your parents, tell them to stop working and come pamper me, I haven’t seen either of them for more than ten minutes.”

She listens (her grandma is not someone you ignore orders from) and mingles. Y/N feels increasingly stupider for being so worried because really, nobody cares what she’s doing now, they mostly want to chat and reminisce over memories from years ago. She’s happy to listen, to laugh, to avoid any segues that might lead to delving into her life or opening a door where that might be a topic. Even if it was, she wondered if everyone just knew not to interrogate her – everyone is too worried about upsetting her parents to dig too deep into her shit. For all they know she could be doing under-the-cuff shit for them that nobody but she knew about (she isn’t but she could definitely could be – they aren’t above doing shifty things like that).

Eventually, she did find her parents and it was. . .as it always was. They almost seemed like they were mid-meeting, which she hadn’t known, but all talked among themselves and the several people sitting beneath the stone gazebo (besides the pond they had built, with fish swimming around in it and a small waterfall because of course they had that) once she appeared, “Hi,” she greets unceremoniously, “Nan says stop working and go dote over her.”

“Of course she did,” her mom smiled brightly, “Come here and hug me – where’d you get this dress? I love it, I’d be wearing that if I was just a few years younger.”

“Try a decade,” her father teased, reaching over to squeeze her arm, “How’s my girl, huh? You all,” he turned to the others, “Go ahead and socialize, we’ll spend some time with our daughter.”

They talk for a while, they’re the only ones inquiring about her life, and what she’s doing, and as she speaks it only then settles in her brain that they’ve got no clue. Y/N always imagines Thomas being puppeteer’d by her parents, doing as they say, but she forgets that for the most part, they do give him a fair amount of autonomy. Only relatively big notions (like her going to university) are discussed as a group. They do know that she’s being confined to her flat and they at least have the decency to appear like they feel bad.

“Once things settle,” her mum had patted her knee, “Things will be better, and you’ll be able to go out more. There’s. . .something going on right now, it’s better to air on the side of caution. Especially after what happened.”

“Yeah, I get it,” she doesn’t. . .she tries her best to though, from their perspective, “Figure it out quick though, I want to go loiter at a mall or something soon.”

She did end up telling them about her plan with art – after she told them about the art classes, which they seemed only vaguely aware of. Y/N went into it, about the cutesy drawings, about an online store, and they nod and say things like, “That sounds nice, Honey,” which is precisely what she expected. Something gentle, slightly dismissive, like they’re listening to a 12-year-old get overly enthused about her hobby. It was nice to talk about it with someone other than Harry though, even if she was certain they were only half listening.

Her mother is the one to bring Harry up, sipping from her glass of wine, “Hm? He’s your newest guard is he not? How’s it going?”

“It’s good,” she shrugged her shoulders, “He’s nice,” I kissed him the other week, “And he’s got two really cute cats that he brings over,” he slept in my bed the other night because I’m having horrible nightmares – do I look tired to you? Nan says I look tired, that’s probably why, “Yeah, it’s fine. Has he said anything?”

Her father cleared his throat, “From what Thomas has said, he does well at all aspects of his job,” he gave a tight-lipped smile, and there’s. . .a look there, in his face, that caught Y/N’s attention, “Which is always good to hear, when we’re trusting someone with you.”

“He does kind of remind me of someone,” her lips move before she can really think it through, bringing it up, but her dad’s disposition had changed ever so slightly – something that Y/N wouldn’t have noticed had she not been trying to read them the entire conversation, “I used to spend time with someone when I was little, who was named Harry. He just disappeared one day though.”

As soon as her mother opened her mouth to respond, her father cut her off, with a smooth, almost immediate precision, “Hm, I think I remember him,” he reached for his drink from the table, “But he and his family moved quite a while ago, I believe. There was a company in Australia I believe, that wanted to hire him. That is if I’m remembering correctly.”

Y/N thinks if her father had answered any other way, or even just slightly differently, she wouldn’t have questioned it. Maybe she would have finally given up, and let it go because even if she did know Harry from when she was younger he clearly didn’t want her to remember him for a reason. If she had anything else to do with her time, she probably wouldn’t have even cared that much to bring it up past asking Harry if she knew him from somewhere.

But it was weird how he’d answered her. It was too fast – and how do you think you remember somebody, but go on to explain they moved to Australia? Plus, from what Y/N has gathered through bits and pieces she hears from her guards and from what she remembered when she was little, people don’t just stop working for her parents. They don’t just go on their merry way unless they are exiled, and even then, the offense would have to be pretty minor to come out unscathed.

Once you’re in this world, you’re in it. There’s no dipping a toe in and deciding it’s too cold; the only option is to sink into it, down to the shoulders, and embrace it when the water lapping at your neck is finally warmer than the air blowing around above it.

“Ohh, okay,” she plays nice and dumb, smiling gently, “Well that settles that then. I was just wondering.”

The tension that had risen in his shoulders loosened, and he relaxed back in his chair, “Tell us more about this business you’d like to start – I know someone who specializes in marketing for start-ups and. . .”

It’s brushed under the rug because of course it is, and Y/N keeps chatting with them a healthy amount before excusing herself to the restroom. This is when her parents make their move to visit with her Nan (“What a joy it is to dote on your mother-in-law,” her mother sighed, grabbing her wine), so they split ways. Y/N does have to piss, that much is true, but she’ll also be taking a detour to the library, where the photo albums were kept. Nobody questions where she’s going or why she’s going there, but she does manage to narrowly avoid Thomas who would have definitely not trusted her when she told him she wasn’t doing anything to rouse suspicion.

The library, in comparison to the rest of the house, is actually one of the smaller rooms. She wondered if it was actually small or if the towering bookcases made it appear more compact than it was. On either side of the room, the walls were bookshelf-beside-bookshelf, filled to the brim with different novels, titles, hardbacks, and paperbacks (she doesn’t even think her parents are that into reading). Adjacent to the door, the wall is a window that reminded her of Edward’s room in Twilight, only this one was composed of bulletproof, thick glass and had large curtains that could be drawn if it was night. In the center of the room was a small couch, a coffee table, and a lamp (which has a very limited purpose when there’s a huge light fixture hanging from the ceiling that lights up the entire room as soon as it’s flicked on).

It takes her a moment to skim over different bindings until she finds the odd, large bindings of the photobooks. They aren’t labeled but she remembered that her mother, in all her perfectionist glory, had them color coded by years. Y/N knew that vibrant purples, blues, and greens were from a period starting with her birth so that’s where she starts. She pulled out all of them, bundled them in her arms, and went to the couch. Vaguely does Y/N remember a time when she was always posing for pictures whether she wanted to or not, and while it wasn’t necessarily either of her parents taking the picture – someone was. Thomas, any bodyguard, her Nan, uncles, aunts, and cousins if they were all together. So there are plenty of pictures to sift through, almost an annoying amount. She thinks she’ll be in here for hours.

Three photo albums in, she begins to lose hope. What was she even looking for? Some proof that Harry existed when she was little? Who was to say anyone had even taken a picture of them together in the first place? And for her parents to keep it, when one of them at the very least, was not interested in her knowing that he had existed in her life before a few months ago when he’d entered her flat, following close behind Niall? It was unlikely.

She nibbles at her thumbnail, heaving a sigh and almost irately flipping through pages now when she sees it.

When she sees him.

If Y/N had looked through it any quicker she would have missed it. A picture at the park, two children stood beside the obnoxiously bright blue tunnel slides: one of them was her, in a frilly pink sundress that had large yellow flowers printed all over the front, and jelly shoes she has a vague memory of regretting because the mulch from the ground kept scratching her. She had a big, front toothless grin, her head over-exaggerated in its tilt and one of her hands were held up like she was waving. Her arm was wrapped around a boy, just a little taller than her, who had awful cargo shorts you could only get away with wearing at 9 and a green shirt with a FIFA logo. His hair was brown, cut short, his eyes were light, she could tell, and he had two dimples just as she remembered. Looking at this photo, she knew for sure.

It was him.

That fucking liar.

She carefully slides the delicate paper from the plastic sheet and presses it off to the side, before continuing to flip through. One picture would be enough, she knew, but she wanted to build an arsenal of proof. He could try to explain away one picture, but not several. Not when she could tell the structure of his face, the way one side of his mouth has always pulled up higher when he smiled, the crinkles beside his eye when he grins.

Y/N is conflicted, about whether to be happy or upset or whatever she was feeling. She was happy that she had been right this whole time. She was irritated because he’d been lying to her and her dad just lied straight to her face, but she wondered for what reason it was important that she didn’t know. And she was confused, because. . .well, where the fuck had he gone? From at least four of the photo albums, she finds around five photos from each of them, up until she was around 10.

She’d worried a sore into the inside of her bottom lip biting at it with fretted teeth, and her forehead ached from the deep furrow she’d had the entire time she flicked through the albums. Y/N was ready to go home, but she knew she’d have to stay for a while longer.

Just as she was sliding the pictures into her purse, zipping it closed, the door of the library opened. She tenses until she realizes it’s Niall, who squints his eyes, “What are you doing in here?”

“Hiding and going down memory lane.” She dismisses him quickly, collecting the albums and walking them back to where she’d found them, “Have they started serving food yet? I’m fucking starving.”

“Watch your mouth, your Nan could be around any corner. She’s quiet on her feet,” he playfully scolded her, not probing any further into her reasonings for being in here, “That’s why I came to get you, the caterers finally have everything set up and I knew you’d fuss if I ate without you.”

She scoffed, “Thanks, and for the record, I don’t fuss, I hit.”

He pouted his mouth, rubbing his arm where she’d swatted him earlier, “Don’t I know it.”

. . .

Y/N loses her nerve.

For a while, she was riled up and ready for an argument (though she doubts Harry would actually argue with her); Harry was supposed to come to see her that night, so she had very little time to mentally prepare. But from that little time she did get, she’d prepared to let him walk in, sit down, then slam the pictures down on the table in front of him and demand answers. Like why he lied before, why her father lied today, and why he left in the first place. Does it matter? No, not necessarily, and she doesn’t think it would change how anything is right now, but at the end of the day, Y/N is nosy and confused and wants to know why everyone else is in on this and not her. Just like everything else in her life, she is kept in the dark, and she’d just been praising Harry for being the only one who ever kept her in the know, telling her more than anyone else.

And she thinks if it had been anyone else, she probably would have. If she had looked through those albums and seen a photo of Niall with her, she would have immediately thrown it at him and asked him what the fuck it was about.

Yet as soon as she saw Harry, who smiled brightly at her as he walked in, holding two strawberry shakes with a big grin on his face. . .she just couldn’t.

“I brought you a treat,” he told her, kicking the door shut with his foot, “It’s a celebration shake. Do you feel relieved having done it and gotten it over with?”

It almost felt silly, to think about doing it how she had planned. To show him the photos, like an I told you so! I’m right, you’re wrong, I did know you – it felt like a petulant way to approach the subject. And if there was a good reason that they didn’t want her to know. . .if there was any reason at all, really, why should she have to force his hand in telling her? To shove proof in his face, catch him off guard, guilt him into telling her. . .it just didn’t feel right. She wanted to know, and part of her felt she deserved to know, but maybe not like this.

She cleared her throat, and smiled gently, “Yeah,” she told him, “It wasn’t too bad.”

“See! I told you it’d be just fine,” he handed her the shake, “I’ll admit, I am jealous Niall got to go with you in that dress. It was adorable – you look so pretty when you’re all dressed up. Well, you’re pretty always, actually, but I do love dresses.”

Y/N feels her face warm, mouth pulled into a frown, “Don’t tease me,” she grumbled, pulling the straw of the shake between her lips, but she moves her legs out of the way for him to sit with her on the couch.

“I’m not teasing,” he defended himself, “Really, I think you’re pretty in whatever you feel comfortable in.”

Y/N nudged him with her foot, and let the words, I knew you when I was little, I have pictures – fizzle out in her throat. She wants to know – so badly does she want to know, but she just can’t give a reason why she would need to know. And she guesses part of her is a little scared that it might change things between them. There were a lot of things Y/N wanted but that wasn’t one of them; she’d like to keep getting closer to him, to keep looking at him and feeling safe, for that bubble of warmth and comfort to arise in her belly every time he stepped through the door.

She liked how things were now, so maybe she was okay not knowing. Not yet, at least. . .for a little while.

“Where’s your head at, hm?” Harry hums low, sweet, and soft; he’s in the usual attire, though the white button-up was loosened by a few buttons and the cuff links were undone. His suit pants were navy blue today, and he treated them with little care, his foot pulled up onto the couch, rolling the leg of the trousers up. He is turned to face her, the hand on his phone lowering so she had his full attention, “You seem far away.”

“Nowhere,” she lies easily, “I’m just sleepy.”

Harry gives her a smile – it’s gentle but still big, and she’s suddenly acutely aware of how her heart races when she witnesses it, dimples and all, “Liarrr,” he sing-songs, but uses his free hand to squeeze her calf over the pajama pants she’s wearing, “You can tell me when you’re ready if you want to talk about it,” his voice sinks into her muscles, melts them, “I’ll wait for you. Until then, I reckon we should watch that show. . .the new one with the zombies everyone is talking about?” He would have a good reason, right? Harry wouldn’t just lie to her. . .Harry doesn’t just lie.

Y/N nodded, her lips twitching up, “So you finally admit you want to see it,” she puffed a laugh from her chest, “After so vehemently denying that you’re interested in zombie shows at all!”

“To be fair, a lot of them can be shit!” He whined, “But I’ve seen a lot of good reviews, and I heard it’s about some mind-controlling fungus which is a slight deviation from other versions of the story. And legally, you can’t be mean to me because I’m so sweet and brought you a shake.”

She grabbed the remote, “You’re whiny.”

“I reckon I deserve to be the whiny one sometimes, you get to be 24/7.” He retorted and Y/N gasped, mouth falling open.

“I am not whiny!”

“Oh? Was that a whine I just heard?” When she huffs at him and starts turning her body away from him, he chuckles low, stopping her from twisting her body completely by laying a hand on her bicep, “C’mon, c’mon, I’m kidding.” He scoots to the other end of the couch, “Here, do you want to stretch out? I’m sure your feet must hurt after being in those shoes all day.”

Her response is to kick her feet up without hesitation, but she wiggles down so that they lay in his lap, “Will you rub them?” Because if he’s going to lie to her about knowing her and then suddenly return to her life as her bodyguard, she thinks she deserves a foot rub out of it at the very, absolute least.

“Ah,” he places one of her throw pillows in his lap, before delicately laying her foot on top of it, “You just want me here to dote on you.”

She nodded her head, “Correct.”

“Brat,” he digs his thumb into the sole of her foot anyway, just above her heel, “Get the show started or I’ll start tickling.”

Because it’s easy with Harry – it’s always been easy with Harry and that’s what she liked.

Why make it difficult?

Why bring it up?

. . .

The days go on as normal; eventually, they lessen their stringent rules on where she can and cannot go. It’s only a little bit, but she and Harry can finally return to their art classes, where Y/N found the excuse for their absence was they had taken a trip to Spain (she lies about how amazing the rooftop tour of Santiago de Compostela Cathedral is beautiful knowing full well she didn’t even know you could get tours on the rooftop). They returned just in time for a color theory lesson that goes from a fun grade school color wheel to something that melted her brain. By the end of it, it had turned into something so complex, even Harry seemed genuinely astonished by how deep into it they went.

“We’ll have to practice later,” he promised, “‘cos I’m going to forget everything she said after the first hour.”

Y/N goes to a brunch with her Nan, who – albeit reluctantly – lets Harry attend. Thomas was still hyper-aware of any possible danger (as he always is) and thought it would be dangerous for not only Y/N but her Nan (who has made plenty of enemies in her day) to be alone out and about together. Harry offered to sit at a separate table once he noticed her Nan’s displeasure but she waved the idea away, “Why should you be punished because I disagree with how they’re doing things? You’ll sit with us.”

If Y/N looked back on it, she thinks that Grandma always had a problem with how they raised Y/N. Very, very, very vaguely she has an indistinct and fuzzy memory of her scolding Y/N’s father, “This is no life to live,” she told him, “To force her in this house! To not even let her attend school? She needs friends outside of her cousins and a life. I didn’t raise you to be so stupid.” And Y/N thinks, relatively close to that, she’d been enrolled in a private school (though she moved around quite a bit following that).

It was nice to spend time with her, and she thinks – even without trying – Harry had managed to woo her Nan in about five minutes. If she let herself indulge, even just for a second, it was like having her boyfriend meet her family but she wipes the thought away as soon as it arises.

Because she’s been having a lot of thoughts like that; she’d begun labeling them her “senseless, delusional” moments where she even for a second considered having feelings for Harry. They started out infrequently, only every so often (especially when he did something particularly sweet) but with time they grew more recurrent. It seemed, like some sort of sick twist, that they came on stronger once she realized that she knew him from when they were little.

Which, Y/N thinks if she were more emotionally sound, the opposite would have occurred. She should be put off and repelled, but instead, she finds herself feeling more and more fond.

Now she notices things that she hadn’t before. All the little idiosyncrasies of hers that he remembered from childhood: how she liked jelly candies and her favorite flavors, the board games she used to play, the stuffies she always liked, the way she hated the sound of nails on a holographic picture, how she thinks the sandwich just tastes better when it’s cut diagonally. They were things that, for whatever reason, she never questioned why he knew before but now that she thought about it, it would be incredibly odd had he known them without knowing her.

And over time she just realizes that he brings the kind of comfort that only a childhood friend could bring. Familiarity, a tender warmth, the idea that someone still likes you even as you’ve grown and changed into the person you are today. Fundamentally, their relationship was always somewhat forced she guesses – their parents (or his parents and Thomas) probably arranged the first play date. And Thomas definitely arranged for him to be her bodyguard. They were compelled to be in the same space together, but enjoying their time with each other. . .that was them. Harry laughing at her jokes, the feeling that fizzles in her veins when his cheeks get pink, how excited she is to see him when it’s his night with her, the borderline domestic relationship she’s developed with his cats – all of that wasn’t arranged.

They were friends, Y/N truly believed that. They had been forever now, she guesses, if the decade-long gap in between was dissolved.

Y/N thumbs through the photos when she’s in her room at night, gnawing at her bottom lip, a zoetrope of memories flickering through her brain. Some things she recalls, some things she doesn’t, and she recalls feelings more than she does conversations or scenarios. She was always happy, she knew that, and she always felt like a normal kid with him. She could tell him things and they could play and things were good and normal.

She found herself wanting to kiss him more every day, which is a bit of a problem. They still hadn’t spoken about the first, logically they should do that before having a second, but the want for it itches beneath her skin. Y/N’s certain he had caught her staring at his mouth several times, probably more than she would like to admit, but he had never really brought it up before.

Until a random Thursday, at least, when she’d spent most of the day drawing and perfecting different sketches for the first round of stickers (she does a lot of random original cutesy drawings, then some that involve different tv shows and movies – people like to buy cute versions of characters they like, Y/N knows that because she does it all the time). Harry started talking about. . .something, Y/N couldn’t remember, but what she did remember was how his mouth went from forming around the word “apples” to smirking.

“You stare at my mouth an awful lot,” he taunted her, and Y/N. . .she was feeling more sensitive that day; less fiery than she usually was, so she tilted her head down and murmured an apology, “No, wait,” he clicked his tongue to the roof of his mouth, “I was only kidding, Sweetheart, you don’t need to apologize for anything.”

When she hummed and made no move to look back at him, she felt careful fingers on her chin, guiding her face toward him, “C’mon, Darling, don’t hide. It’s okay! You can look at my mouth all you want, lord knows I’m always looking at yours.”

Her face feels hot and she swallows thickly, “You’re looking at mine?”

“Mhm,” he hesitated for a moment, before the pad of his thumb grazed over her bottom lip, “More than I’d like to admit.”

“We could always,” she spoke against his petting thumb, “We could kiss again then if you want.”

He leaned in, moments from smearing his mouth against hers, but there was a knock at the door.

The pizza they ordered had come.

That was the closest they’d been to kissing again, but once Harry went to answer the door and sign for the food the moment had left them. Y/N is flustered, warm in her face, and has zero nerve to return where they had left off so she nudges him with her foot when he sits back beside her and calls him a wimp when he fusses over it. Things go back to normal – the same as they usually were.

(It was only later that night when she was alone in her bed when she felt inconceivably horny, did she remember that her period was coming. The weeks leading up to it always left her insatiable, sensitive in both her feelings and touch, and if she snuck her hand between her thighs to the thought of kissing him again, well that’s her own problem.)

The nightmares start to fade too, which is nice, though that means Harry spends less time in her room. He’d made a habit of sleeping beside her, or at least laying down near her until she fell asleep, and she’d always wake up the next morning alone. Though without fail, as soon as a dream seemed to sour, Harry was there at her side to wake her from it, always attentive, squeezing the shoulder he’d just been shaking, “S’just a dream, baby, you’re okay.” He’d calm her down, “Go back to bed.”

“Thank you, nightmare killer,” she would murmur, tongue feeling heavy in her mouth, and Harry would laugh, and she’d fall back asleep.

Things were nice, starting to feel a little normal again with the additive closeness she felt with Harry despite knowing what she did. She was starting to feel comfortable again, and not stuck inside all of the time, and she felt like she was getting somewhere with her drawings, growing closer and closer to being able to open her shop.

And then, one night, Harry is waking her up frantically.

Harry is not a frantic person – he is usually calm, collected, and measured. Y/N has never truly seen him in action but she’s sure he makes decisions with precision and tact that typically comes from years of experience, though she doesn’t think he’s been at this that long. He’s levelheaded and respectful and acts well under pressure – that makes him deadly.

So to see him urging her awake, moving quickly, telling her to, “Get up, we need to leave.” Makes her adrenalin spike and panic drip from her ears.

“What?” She was still foggy, disoriented – what time was it? Her clock says it’s three in the morning.

“We need to go,” he is reaching beneath her bed, dragging out a bag – her “Go” bag, is what she always called it, something Thomas had instructed her to make even when she was little. It was a duffel of clothes, toiletries, and things that would take too long to grab in the event she needed to leave an area quickly. She’d only ever had to grab it once before when she was younger, but she couldn’t remember why. Though now that she thinks about it, it seemed like it might have been close to the time that Harry had disappeared.

She doesn’t check her go bag often, beyond replacing the toiletries that may have lived past their shelf date, so she was also surprised to see Harry pull a gun from it. A gasp leaves her mouth, she’s still moving too slowly, trying to catch up with what’s happening as he’s fitting it into the holster, “Wait, what? What’s wrong? What’s happening?”

He’s zipping the bag up, “Bill was fired –”

“What?”

“- and it got ugly, he shot at Martha. There’s reason to believe he’s on his way here.”

“But why –”

“There’s no time to explain everything,” he threw the duffle over his shoulder, “We need to leave.”

Her head is spinning, she knows she’s probably annoying him, but she can’t help but search for something to say, for a question to ask, to try and understand what was happening, if she was dreaming or not, if this was another nightmare, “What –”

This time Harry cuts her off by taking her face in his hands – he was still gentle, but she could sense the urgency, “I will explain as soon as we’re safe, I promise you, baby, but right now we need to leave okay? Get your phone but turn off the location. We’ll go down the back stairwell to the parking garage.” She still seems hesitant, confused, but Harry runs a thumb over her cheek, “Do you trust me?”

And she does. . .she trusts him implicity, more than she should, probably.

“Yes.”

“Good,” he replied quickly, “Come on.”

#WRITING #WOOOOO #YAHTZEEEE #OKAY #I HOPE YOU GUYS LIKE IT :D #THIS IS A MEGA SLOW BURN IM SO SORRY #I DIDNT EXPECT IT TO BE #BUT YOU KNOW #EEEEEK #OKAY I HOPE YOU ENJOY #IT WAS FUN TO WRITE!#LOVE YOUUUU #WOOOOOOO

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thyming · 8 months

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Some ideas on how to (re-)connect with nature ♡

⭑ Take a walk through the forest or a park, don't use your phone or listen to music, rather listen to the sounds of nature actively. What can you hear?

⛤ Collect some leaves, rocks, pine cones, feathers or anything else that you think is pretty! Maybe use your bounty to decorate your home with it?

⭑ Go touch some grass! No, this is not a joke, let's go feel the grass between your fingers and toes.

⛤ Try to find some flowers and smell them, what can you compare the scents with? Preferably, go outside and find wild flowers instead if bought ones!

⭑ Take a bath in a lake or dip your hands and feet into the water (a river is perfect, too!) Close your eyes and just feel the water.

⛤ Have a little picnic on a meadow, at the lake, in the forest or at any other peaceful spot. It's a date with yourself and with nature!

⭑ If this is an option for you: do some gardening work. Get your hands all dirty with earth and mud!

⛤ Pick some wild flowers from a meadow and make a little bouquet with them. (But please don't rip out the roots!)

⭑ Talk to the trees. Yes, this sounds silly but a tree is a perfect listener and companion if you need to talk something off of your chest.

⛤ Watch the sunset or sunrise. Enjoy this magical moment. How many colors can you spot?

⭑ Get some houseplants and take good care of them every day. (If you have pets, make sure your new friends are not poisonous for them!)

⛤ Observe. What kind of birds, plants, flowers and trees can you find in your environment? What kind of animals can you meet in the forest nearby? (Maybe write your observations down in a notebook!)

⭑ Lay down on some moss, grass or sand and just exist and feel how the earth carries you.

⛤ Go plant some flowers!

⭑ Spend some time in nature without social media (maybe leave your phone at home!)

⛤ Take a walk in the rain and / or dance in the rain.

⭑ Watch a thunderstorm from a safe spot

⛤ Craft a moss jar (these are so cute and perfect if you want some more nature in your own home!)

⭑ Keep little jars or flasks of the elements in your home (examples: earth - moss/earth/sand, water - water from a lake/river or collected rain water, air - a feather, fire - ashes, a used match)

⛤ Be more attentive to your environment: when do you notices changes in the seasons?

⭑ Have a self-love day, because you are a part of nature as well and deserve your own love!

⛤ Try to actively appreciate nature: be more thankful for the food, the water, the warmth nature provides us

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short-honey-badger · 2 months

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Feeling Forgotten

Pairings! Doflamingo x Reader

Warnings! It's Doffy. Gaslighting and Manipulation

Summary! Doflamingo gets jelly while you're getting ready for a date.

The young king of Dressrosa abhorred seeing you with the young lords and ladies of his kingdom. Doflamingo had happened upon you one late evening on the way back to his palace, cowering and hungry in a place where someone as lovely as you should never be subject to. He had swooped in like the bird he's named after and scooped you up, holding you close to his chest even as you thrashed about in panic.

Doflamingo had given you to his servants to be bathed and fed, and after that, Doffy had them escort you to his office where he assured you that nothing would ever harm you again if you stayed with him and his family. Overwhelmed and terrified, you had easily agreed with the king.

From then on, you had wanted for nothing. Doflamingo treated you like a princess, doting on you hand and foot and showering you with gifts at his inclination. He loved it when you looked at him with gratitude shining within the depth of your eyes.

So it pissed him off that you continued to chase after the young men who would never be good enough for you. He hated to see you get ready with the gifts he had given you to show off to those boys who lived in his kingdom. It was understandable that the devil fruit user would come to a breaking point one unremarkable evening.

Doflamingo sits in your room, lounging back on the bed big enough to fit even his massive frame. One of his very first offerings to you. The young master watches you get ready, unable to keep the unhappy sneer adorning his face. You dither here and there, delicately painting your lips at your vanity, and turning to Doflamingo with a cute smile, asking him.

“How do I look, Doffy? Do you think he'll like it?”

You don't expect the blonde's expression to fall further, veins popping in his brow for half a second before Doflamingo sucks in a sharp breath and lets it out slowly. He wouldn't take his ire out on you.

“Who cares what that boy will think. Only my opinion should matter, shouldn't it, princess? Or do you just not care what dear ol’ Doffy thinks anymore?”

It's a cruel satisfaction he feels when Doflamingo sees your pretty face go pale and you scramble to your feet, almost tripping over yourself in your haste to get to his side.

“No! Why would you think that?”

The desperation in your voice is mouthwatering, and Doflamingo sighs dramatically, propping himself up by his hand and pouting at you.

“You've been so busy going out on these dates,” he spits the word, jealousy and disdain dripping from his tone.

“That I've been feeling… forgotten lately, Sweetheart.”

You crawl on top of the bed with him, legs tucked under you and hands gripping your knees. You look at him with big doe eyes, and Doflamingo could purr at the delectable sight that you make.

“I'm sorry, Doffy. How about I stay in tonight instead? You're more important to me than some…some boy, right?” You say, tone turning questioning as if wanting your young master's assurance.

Doflamingo grins, a mean smile full of teeth that makes you shiver in terrified delight. He flicks a finger, and you come crashing forward, hands landing on his chest and legs spreading nicely. He leans in close, kissing your cheek and wrapping his other arm around your waist.

“That's exactly what I wanted to hear, Princess. No more dates unless they're with me, yeah? I'm the only one you should worry that pretty little head over.”

#one piece #reader insert #fanfic #fluff #creative writing #writing promt #doflamingo x y/n #doflamingo x you #doflamingo x reader #donquixote doflamingo #op doflamingo #doflamingo one piece #gaslight gatekeep girlboss #manipulation #jealousy

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rrking · 3 months

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Some General BG HCs

Me and my wifey often discuss Astarion things in real life, and there are a few that I thought I would share.

Spoiler warning⚠

Astarion

Random knowledge bank. Meeting your parents for the first time and your dad wants to talk about history? Ask Astarion, if he doesn't just know, he remembers.

Enjoys going to the library. Does not enjoy the rabble who also enjoy the library. You have to explain to him over and over about library cards and infrared scanners so he doesn't just nope out and steal the book. Also gets annoyed when books from his time are revised.

Don't want to touch the raw meat packaging? No worries, Astarion will lick it up for you. Imagine him leant against the kitchen counter sucking up the blood from that piece of paper at the bottom of the mince. (A wifey thought)

On the subject of blood, if you cut your finger in the house he will be licking that up for you with a leering grin. Dragging it out so he can watch how you roll your eyes at him.

Comes in late, as usual, but this time after taking out every fucking goose or pigeon in the local area. The council are unhappy. Astarion is ecstatic. Word of a bird plague is sweeping through the borough. You are not happy with Astarion. Astarion doesn't care about the council until they put your council tax up.

Glares out of the window at kids playing but won't admit they're kind of cute. Especially glarey when kids come to the door trick or treating. Bonus points if they're dressed as vampires... Maybe he'll compliment them. "Darlings, look at your adorable little capes! Does your mother know you lot are prancing around dressed like monsters?" Will absolutely deny any niceties when you look at him knowingly, a smirk appearing on your lips as you notice the bucket of sweets he's holding, still excited after giving the children far more than they needed. or asked for.

Moans and groans when you watch vampire films. "Darling, turn that nonsense off, would you? Were you curious about vampires, you have one right here."

Groans even more when you watch law and order style programs, particularly court ones. Bad memories. "And why did he not get the death sentence?!"

Serial social media meme stealer.

Always creeps up behind you when you are looking in the mirror, ready to scare you. Or shag you, you be the judge.

Gale

Want chippy but don't want to get up or wait for an order? Blink. Gale will blink there and back. What's faster than Uber Eats? Going via the Astral Plane.

100000% will make you a brew if you ask :) He turns up with your favourite mug and your drink exactly the way you like it.

The type of man to run you a hot bath ready when you get in from work or if you've had a hard day just because.

Definitely discovers Nivea for Men.

Remembers things like birthdays and anniversaries.

Sees shiny things and wonders if they're infused with the weave. Gazing through the jewellery shop window.

Suffers through Harry Potter at Christmas wondering where all the elegant wizards are.

Started a thing where you leave post it notes for one another with sweet nothings on. Today as you're walking past the calendar pinned to the kitchen wall, you spot a new post it note. This one is pink and bares Gale's graceful handwriting. It reads: "My most special one, everyday I wake up next to you I feel luckier than the last. Have a great day x" Such devoted notes leave you feeling warm inside.

Halsin

Prefers to buy 'living herbs' than ground jar ones because NATURE.

Is that person who goes past an adult shop and says loudly "let's go inside!"

Definitely gets stuck in garden chairs and the like due to being so massive. Don't get this man in a smart car.

Stands up at barbecues if the chair is too small. It probably is.

Literally has to be told to avoid the bear story to others because they will not understand but tells it anyway if he gets too drunk.

Actually finds it quite difficult to adapt to modern society almost more than Lae'zel.

If you live in the countryside, Halsin definitely finds it a little easier, but if you live in the city he is constantly asking questions. The thing that catches his eye today is a statue above the bank door - a lion with a key in his mouth. "Does that petrified displacer beast not wish to return to the wilderness?" "Halsin, that is a statue of a lion with a key in it's mouth." "...Oh. Why does it guard a key?" You look at him curiously, unsure of how to answer such an innocent question. "It's just HSBC's thing... I don't actually know."

Struggles to find clothes that actually fit.

Will share you a meme you tagged him in and never truly understand the new technology.

Totally enjoys long walks and feeding ducks. Eats all of the bread.

Tries to speak to the animals at the zoo. (Wifey)

Incosolably weeps at nature programs. Very confused when you try to explain that nature has to take it's course for them to film.

First thought upon seeing CGI animals dancing and talking : "IT'S A DRUID!"

Votes Green Party.

Lae'zel

Lae'zel struggles the most to integrate into modern society.

She takes up some form of fighting WWE and does not understand why the fighters don't actually hurt each other.

She complains about this after making absolute bank of course. "Ch'k! These istik talk about fighting for glory - Yet they simply roughhouse for pitiful coin." "Yeah, but look at how famous you are, Lae'zel..." Rollin', rollin', all my bitches rollin'.

Hates ood in Doctor Who for obvious reasons. "Tsk'va, ghaik!"

Wifey came up with 'Bae'zel'.

Karlach

Believes stupid spam emails you have to send onto others. (Wifey thought of this)

Shares that post of the missing dog on the other side of the world who was found 3 years ago.

Discovers TikTok, only shares animal videos and smashes TikTok dances.

Discovers aircon. 🥺

Discovers hot wing challenges... Excels at said hot wing challenges. and collects all the t shirts for winning food challenges.

Shadowheart

Posts things on Facebook like 'Shar/Selune keeps me in check. Like, share and comment 'Praise be to Shar/Selune' if she keeps you in check." Definitely gets flamed by the others.

Ends up with cute hobbies like paper quilling and crafts. Makes things for you. "You've really improved your crochet, Shadowheart! What is this one called?" Gives him a simple name like Bob or Clyde and puts him with the rest, cramming the mantle with them.

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