#Idk I thought of this after reading an au and I have stick season on loop saur yeah | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

raplinesmoon · 3 years ago

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Love Hard (KNJ x F!Reader)

Pairing: Kim Namjoon x F!Reader (ft. Jeong Jaehyun)

Genres: crack, fluff, slight angst

AUs: childhood acquaintances to lovers, fake dating AU

Word Count: 10.8k

Warnings: hidden identity, catfishing-adjacent behaviour, OC and Namjoon play themselves and each other and everyone around them, cursing, excessive drinking, drunkenness, Jin being lowkey shady, OC takes an edible, lots of soul-searching and self-discovery, Namjoon is very shy and insecure and sweet uwu

Ratings: R

Summary: After reconnecting with a high-school classmate on a dating app, you fly home for the holidays to chase your perfect love story. However, a misunderstanding waits for you on the other end.

A/N: Surprise @mintkims! It’s Noel!! Idk if you ever thought it was me, but here I am with your gift, and I hope you like it and it helps make your holiday season a little brighter. This is based on the cringy but kinda cute Netflix movie Love Hard. A big thank you to the lovely Fi @taesinferno for reading this over for me!

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Heels click-clacking down the sidewalk, the pink and orange neon lights of the hot new bar in town, Hope World, greet your view. You flash a smile to the handsome bouncer, two adorable dimples poking out of his cheeks as he gives you one in return, bunny teeth peeking out from under his lips.

Hope indeed. If tonight’s blind date was a failure, you could always double back to the cute guy at the door. The truth of the matter was that another year had gone by, and your family was still asking if you had anyone to bring to the annual holiday party.

Letting out a deep sigh, you think back to how much of your life (and your wallet) has been spent in the modern pyramid scheme known as dating. Several new pairs of heels, that shiny new lip gloss from Sephora, all those trips to the parlor to get your eyebrows done, and you still find yourself back exactly where you started.

Ever the cynic, you’ve compiled more than enough evidence over the years of why you should just give yourself a break and quit the dating scene. However, there’s a part of you that doesn’t buy into the whole dating culture, but sings at the thought of finding your other half. Your parents were it for each other, shyly falling in love despite having an arranged marriage. Growing up, you saw the intensity of their love and affection for each other every day, and it had you longing for a soulmate of your own.

Ping!

The chime of your phone interrupts your thoughts, a notification from CheckMate, the latest dating app that had gone viral, flashing across your screen.

JB: I’m here! All the way in the back.

You: Sounds good! Just walked in.

After asking the hostess to direct you to the table, you head away from the entrance, heart racing as you approach what could be the one. JB had seemed pretty perfect on paper - likes to cook, loves cats, has a successful job as a lawyer--

A loud sigh escapes your throat as you take in the sight of the empty table. No cat-loving man in sight.

Yet again, you’d been played.

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“Good morning my lovely ____! How is my favorite columnist doing on this fine winter day?” Ryujin slides up next to you, the wheels of her office chair squeaking against the cold tile.

“It’s not even snowing outside. How much money do you need?,” you grumble, clacking away on the keyboard.

Ryujin sticks her head in your line of vision, a sheepish look on her face.

“Soooo, how was the date?”

“Non-existent, Ryujin. It was non-existent,” you cry out. “This is such a joke! How am I even supposed to keep writing this stupid column about dating disasters when the dates have stopped happening?!”

“___, I know you,” Ryujin gives you a comforting pat on your shoulder. “You’re a brilliant and talented writer. You can take even the most mundane, normal situations and spin them into something that keeps readers engaged. You’ll find a way.”

“You better be right,” you sigh, leaning back in your chair. “Ji-Hoon is going to have my head if I have nothing to turn in at the end of this month. And then I’ll never get that promotion.”

“Well,” Ryujin chirps, snatching your phone away. “This is a team effort. Not only do you have to get laid, but you also have to get paid. And that means extending your search nationwide.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦ You let out a groan, slipping into your coziest fleece and swiping your mug of hot cocoa from the counter. Cracking your neck, you open your laptop, the comforting notes of the Christmas pageant scene in Love Actually punctuating your anxiety as you check your email.

From: Ji-Hoon ([email protected])

“Okay, it’s December. And you know what that means. Lots of lonely people. And do you know what lonely people want to hear this time of year? That they’re not alone in being lonely. So, I better have your latest edition of Never Have I Ever in my inbox before New Year’s Eve, or you can kiss that investigative piece on the healthcare system goodbye.”

Ji-Hoon knew how to hit you where it hurt. Your boss had been keeping you on as the main dating columnist for your publication since the moment you stepped foot into the office as an intern, claiming that the real topics were “better left to the men”. You’d fought tooth and nail to prove yourself to him, your once measly column skyrocketing to become one of the publications’ most read. Begrudgingly, he declared that if you ended the year successfully, he’d give you a shot at tackling your own exposé.

Letting out another sigh, you shut your laptop closed and pull out your phone. Time to get to work. You flip through CheckMate, the first couple of matches doing little to capture your interest. The next face that greets you on the screen makes your heart drop, and you silently curse Ryujin for expanding your location settings that morning.

Jeong Jaehyun. Your hometown heartthrob from your childhood. The boy that you (and every other person in your year) had a crush on in high school. Looking as fine as ever, with his bio stating that he worked as a fitness instructor for your local gym.

What took you more by surprise than seeing the former (still current?) object of your affection on this godforsaken app was the little blue bar on the top, saying “Jaehyun likes your profile! Match now to see if you two can reach CheckMate.”

Heart pounding in your ears, you feel a flush coming over your face. You’d gone all the way through high school being the painfully shy, awkward girl. Someone who’d never had a chance of catching Jaehyun’s eye. And now he likes you on a dating app? This had to be the universe playing a cruel joke on you.

Suddenly, an idea comes to your mind. Cursing yourself for diving headfirst into another masochistic dating pursuit, you take comfort in the fact that if this turned out to be a disaster, the heartbreak would fuel you to write another edition of Never Have I Ever, and the coveted exposé would finally be yours. After all, Arthur Eddington did say that time only moves forward. So what did you have to lose?

Drawing in a deep breath, you squeeze your pupils shut and press the icon on the right.

It’s a match.

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“You’re doing it again,” Ryujin chuckles, glancing over at you from the driver's seat as the two of you make your way to the airport.

“Doing what?” you sigh dreamily, eyes never venturing from your screen. Over the past few weeks, you and Jaehyun had spent every day chatting with one another, joking about everything from the horrible traffic in your city to your favorite Christmas movies. It had surprised you how well the two of you had hit it off, making plans to meet up when you arrived home to your parents’ for the holidays.

“Acting like a damn fool, that’s what!” Ryujin moans. “Seriously, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you smile so much. Like ever. You don’t even smile at me most of the time, even when I bring you coffee in the morning!”

“I am not acting like anything,” you proclaim. “He just said something really funny, that’s all.”

“Oh yeah?” Ryujin jeers. “What was it then?”

“He asked me if my name was glucose, because I’m so sweet,” you mumble, eyes looking down at the floor as your face heats up at the mention of the nerdy joke.

“Y’all are whipped for each other with a capital W,” she grins.

“Seriously, Ryujin, this feels different from all the other times I’ve chatted with someone. There’s something more there. It feels like this could actually be something.” A smile lights up your face as you gush about your interactions with Jaehyun.

“Well then, you gotta go for it!” her grin matches your as the car comes to a stop outside the terminal. She jumps out of the passenger seat, popping open the trunk to hand you your bags.

“Seriously, ___. I’m so happy for you,” she wraps her arms around you in a hug. “I hope you have the best holidays ever. I can’t wait to hear about it all when we get back.”

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“____! My poor baby, you’ve gotten so thin! What are they feeding you over there??” your mother’s voice reaches you across the terminal, causing a smile to break out on your face as you bound towards her, nearly tackling her tiny frame to the ground with a hug.

“___,” your dad chastises, wrapping his arms around you both. “Careful now, you know your mother has high blood pressure. Welcome home, my child.”

“So happy to be home, Baba. I missed Mama’s cooking so much,” you feel yourself tear up. It had been so long since you’d seen your parents, spending every spare moment of your time working for the promotion Ji-Hoon had promised you.

“You must tell me,” you mother clasps your hands and guides you into the car. “Any news from the big city? Have you found a boy you’d like to marry?”

“Mama!” you groan, settling in as the car starts. “You know I’m busy with work all the time, where would I even find a husband? And besides, it’s not like any of these city boys are husband material anyway.”

“I know my daughter is a very hard worker,” your mom says, a wistful note to her voice. “But I worry about you, living in that big place all alone. I just want someone to help take care of you when I’m not there, someone who makes sure that you’re not lonely.”

“I’m trying Mama,” you whisper, staring at the snowflakes that fall outside the window.

“___!” your dad interjects, thankfully steering the conversation away from this dreaded topic. “Did we tell you about the new pressure cooker we got, Mrs. Sharma’s family brought it with them from their trip…”

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Shivering, you wrap your parka tighter around your frame, knuckles reaching up to rap on the door. You’d never seen Jaehyun’s house in high school. Rumor had it that he always threw the craziest parties at his parents’ house, but you’d never been invited.

The house looked cute and cozy, bedecked with twinkling lights and vibrant green garlands that emanated the warm, earthy scent of pine. You hear footsteps approaching the door, and it swings open to reveal a short woman with kind eyes that crinkle upon seeing your figure waiting outside.

“Hello,” she says. “And who might you be?”

“Hi! Hey, hi, uhhhh,’ you blurt out, the woman’s eyes twinkling. “My name is ___, I’m a friend of your son’s? I’m here to see him for the holidays.”

“Oh!” the woman exclaims. “Oh my goodness, come in, come in! He didn’t tell me we should expect company tonight. Please, please, take your shoes off and make yourself comfortable. My name is Se-ah, here, let me warm you up with some tea.”

“Yah! Are those stupid telemarketers back again? Tell them we don’t want to switch to Verizon,” a man’s voice calls out from other room.

“It’s not Verizon, Joon-sang,” she yells back. “It’s a woman, and she’s here to see our son!”

A tall, dignified man walks into the room, accompanied by a much older woman, both of their eyes widening at your presence in their home.

“This is my husband, Joon-sang, and my mother-in-law, Eun-hye, but we just call her Halmeoni,” the woman smiles.

“Ahhhh, 환영합니다 (welcome)!” the older woman reaches out to envelop you in a hug. “Are you friends with my grandson?”

“Uhhh,” you flush, giggling. “I would say we’re a little more than friends.”

The three pairs of eyes light up in glee at your statement, Halmeoni bouncing up and down and clapping her hands.

“당신은 그의 여자 친구입니까? (are you his girlfriend)?” Halmeoni questions, her eyes twinkling with hope. Sheepishly, you rub the back of your neck. You should have brushed up on your Korean skills before paying Jaehyun’s family a visit, but at least they seem happy to see you.

You hear a thump from below, causing you to raise your eyebrows at the family.

“That must be him coming back from work!” his mother claps. “Ahem, Joon-ah, there’s someone here to see you!”

“Eomma, I told you to just please sign for the packages when the UPS guy comes!” the voice from downstairs yells back.

“A girl!” his mother chirps out through gritted teeth. “There’s a girl here to see you, my dear.”

“Aw shit!” you hear a crash.

“Language!” his mother groans, stomping her foot. “Just come upstairs!”

Smiling at the chaotic scene that unfolds, your heartbeat accelerates as you hear the sound of steps coming up from the basement. This was it, you’d finally see Jaehyun in person, and sit down with his family to have a nice, holiday dinner. The love story of your dreams began now.

The door bursts open, and a tall, gangly frame wearing glasses and grey sweats stumbles through, brown shaggy hair falling into his face. You pale as you recognize the man in front of you. Jaehyun this was not.

“____? What the fuck are you doing?” he yells.

“Namjoon-ah!” his mother scolds him. “What did I tell you about language? This poor girl is here to surprise you for Christmas!”

A knot forms in your stomach, and you feel bile rise up in your throat. Looking back and forth between Namjoon’s shocked face and the smiling faces of his family members, the sudden urge to vomit overtakes you.

“I’m sorry,” you say, backing towards the door, turning as you hear Namjoon run after you. “I have to go.”

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“No, no, no, no, no, this cannot be happening!” you stumbled down the steps of the Kim family home. Kim Namjoon, the equally awkward kid who’d been your senior physics partner, could not have posed as Jaehyun and catfished you. The universe hated you, but not this much.

“Fuck! ___, wait up please,” you hear Namjoon’s desperate cries echo behind you. “I-,I- can explain.”

“I don’t understand,” you turn around, meeting his flustered figure. “Jaehyun, as in Jeong Jaehyun, as in not you, told me to meet up with him here at this address when I came home for the holidays. I figured I’d just stop by, say hi, meet the man of my dreams, and this is what I get?”

“I-, shit,” Namjoon runs a hand through his hair, his glasses fogging up from the frosty winter chill. “This wasn’t how it was supposed to go. You didn’t give me, I mean him, any warning that you were coming by, he was supposed to be here to meet you, I swear.”

“Hang on, stop right there,” you lift a finger to shush him. “What do you mean he was supposed to meet me here? Why would he meet me here, at your house?”

“You can’t be serious, right?” Namjoon breathes out. “You really thought all those cute lines were Jaehyun’s? Jaehyun, who’s never had a romantic bone in his body since he first walked onto the high school football team.”

You feel the blood leave your face, the tip of your nose becoming red and chapped as it begins to leak from the cold air.

“W-what do you mean?” you wail, warm tears pricking at your eyelids.

“____,” Namjoon reaches out to put a hand on your shoulder, but you flinch from his touch. “The silver lining here is that Jaehyun likes you, he really does. But we both know he’s shit at romance, especially if words are all he has. The dude saw you on CheckMate, remembered you from high school and thought you were hot, so he paid me to woo you back here for Christmas so that you two could hit it off.”

“I’m sorry,” Namjoon’s voice is remorseful. “I didn’t think it would turn out like this. He really does like you. Maybe you should just go find him, talk to him in person, I’m sure he can help sort this all out-”

“NO!” you interrupt, causing him to jump. “I’m so fucking done. I don’t want to sort this all out. In fact, I never want to see either of you ever again!”

Your scream echoes down the street as you huff, turning on your heels and running as fast as you can.

God, you really needed a drink.

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“Another one of the candy cane cocktails,” you slur, slamming the glass down onto the countertop.

“Afraid I’m gonna have to cut you off soon, kiddo,” the bartender smirks from across the countertop, his cat-like eyes taking in the sight of your inebriated figure.

“Shut it Min!” you groan. “We may not be in high school anymore, but don’t think for one second that it’ll stop me from telling Ms. Davis that you sold everybody weed behind the dumpsters.”

“Damn,” he slides you a glass of water. “Tell me, when did you get so feisty?”

“It’s called being done with the dating world, Min,” you gurgle. “You should try it some timeeee, a load off your shoulders, let me tell you! Everybody fucking sucks, that’s just the cold hard truth.”

Shoving a stack of bills in his hands, you lift yourself up, and take a few wobbly steps to the bathroom, slumping over the toilet and puking your guts out. You’re found a few minutes later by Yoongi, who takes in the sight of your figure and makes a phone call.

-----

Blinking, the bright fluorescent lights burn your retinas as you look up, the sterile smell of a hospital flooding your nostrils. Squinting, you listen closely, catching the sound of meows and woofs from around you.

A vet hospital. You were in a freaking vet hospital. How did you end up here?

“____? My name is Dr. Jung,” a sincere looking man with a heart shaped smile greets you, taking notes on his clipboard. “You’re probably still a little drunk, but I gave you some fluids and ibuprofen for the headache you’ll have tomorrow. You’re lucky that Namjoon was nice enough to bring you here.”

You whip your head around, a worried looking Kim Namjoon greeting you, and the pounding in your head becomes worse.

“I’m sorry, ___,” he says shyly. “I was worried about you and it was the first place I thought of.”

“Rest up.” Dr. Jung says, giving you a wave. “Namjoon will take you home when you feel ready.”

As soon as he walks out the door, you turn on your companion.

“You!” you screech. “What are you doing here?”

“Ummm, I think I just saved your life,” Namjoon quips, mockingly lifting his hands up next to his ears.

“I thought I told you to leave me alone!” you scream.

“Ahhh yes, about that. Well you see, there’s been a bit of a problem,” Namjoon gulps. “My parents are under the impression that we’re dating, and now they want me to bring my ‘girlfriend’ back for Christmas dinner.”

“You are crazy, Kim Namjoon! I thought you were the smart kid. Why would I ever help you?” you yell.

“Please, ___.” Namjoon drops to his knees. “You saw the way my parents looked at me tonight when they thought we were dating. I can finally be the son that they’re proud of. Just one week. I need you to accompany me to a family dinner or two. You’re totally free to do whatever you want in your free time. You can date Jaehyun. You can not date Jaehyun. I can even pay you, just please please please help me out.”

You scoff at his pleas, when your phone pings with a text from Ji-Hoon.

Tick-tock, your time is on the clock, kiddo. It’s nearly the 22nd and I haven’t gotten a peep from you. You can kiss that exposé goodbye.

This was a disaster. In the span of less than four hours, your life had turned from the sad, sorry joke it was, to an even bigger dumpster fire. At this point, the article was the only thing you had to look forward to.

“I’ll do it,” you declare, swinging your feet side to side, avoiding meeting Namjoon’s eyes. “One week, and then we break up, and you never talk to me again.”

Namjoon offers his hand, and you shake it.

“Deal.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“____, my baby, you look so pretty, I can’t believe it!” your mother coos, smoothing down the part where your dress has ridden up.

“Mama!” you groan. “What are you doing?”

“Shhh, just making sure you look all prim and proper to meet Namjoon’s parents!” she smooths your hair. “Of course, I would’ve preferred that he come over for dinner first, but who am I to complain! My baby is finding love!”

Sighing, you’re relieved when the doorbell ringing allows you an excuse to escape her doting, swinging open the door to reveal a shy looking Namjoon, dressed in a brown turtleneck and peacoat, glasses askew and holding a bouquet of poinsettias.

“Namjoon!” your dad bellows. “So nice to see you, my boy. It’s been so long!”

“Since high school,” Namjoon whispers, avoiding your eyes. “Here, I brought these for your home. I’ll be sure to have her home before 10:30, sir.”

“Nonsense,” your mother grins. “No need to rush. You two youngsters have fun, okay? We’ll be here waiting for her to come back whenever you’re ready.”

“You look nice.” Namjoon smiles. You offer him a weak smile in return, but don’t say anything.

“Okay,” he breathes, shoulders slumping slightly. “Let’s get going then.”

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Warmth. The Kim household radiates it, extending far beyond the crackling of the fireplace. Namjoon’s family reminds you of your own fond holiday memories with your parents, full of laughter and jokes, and more importantly, good food.

“___, Namjoon, where did the two of you rush off too that night?” his mother asks, causing you to choke on the piece of bulgogi you’d just swallowed.

“Ahhh nothing much, eomma,” Namjoon steps as you continue to hack. “We just went to Min’s to talk over a few drinks.”

“___,” Halmeoni’s attention turns to you again, and you know you can’t escape her question. “How did you and my grandson meet?”

“Ahhh yes, Halmeoni, it was uh-,” you stumble over your words. “Just some good ol’ online dating! Just text, text, send, and the next thing you know, we’re reconnecting over an app.”

“내 시대에는 사람들이 글에 사랑에 빠지곤 했습니다 (in my day, people used to fall in love over the written word),” she smiles, and you nod frantically as you see Namjoon clench his jaw.

“So sorry,” his mother apologizes. “You know, she’s a bit old-fashioned. Now, uh, what’s caused our Namjoon-ah to catch your eye, anyway? I mean, he’s an extraordinary young man, it’s just, we’re not used to him bringing anyone home.”

You feel Namjoon stiffen next to you, his shoulders tensing before they droop, and a defeated look crosses his face.

“Namjoon has such a way with words,” you start, feeling him jolt next to you in surprise. “I have to admit, I’ve been using apps for a long time, and I’ve never enjoyed conversation as much as I have with him.”

A small grin crosses, Namjoon’s face, tiny dimples poking into his cheek as his face turns pink.

“You know,” his grandmother responds. “I was telling Ms. Jeong about these apps too. Poor woman, I told her grandson should try them. After all, if my handsome Namjoon-ah can find such a pretty girl, why can’t Jaehyun?”

The smile drops from your face at the mention of his name, and Namjoon sputters, choking on his water.

“You know, Halmeoni, I, uh-, I promised ___ I’d show her my room!” he grabs your hands, causing you to let out a small gasp at how warm it is. “Yup, we were just gonna go hang downstairs, maybe play some League of Legends, you know!”

Nodding along with him, you give the three of them a wave, standing up and following Namjoon’s lead as the two of you descend into the basement. Just a little longer, and you’d be able to head home, warm up a nice cup of tea, and watch Twilight in your pyjamas.

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“So,” Namjoon says, supporting your arm as he leads you down the creaky steps. “Welcome to my crib. This is where the magic happens.”

You take in the sight of half read books and his messy sheets, raising a quizzical eyebrow at his statement.

“That was a joke, I mean, I was just kidding,” he grunts, looking at the ceiling. “Not a lot of magic has happened here. At least not for me, anyway.”

“I love what you’ve done with the place,” you say, giving him a warm smile, his face lighting up at your words.

“I have a mini fridge with some beer, soda, you know all that jazz,” he gestures, looking for you, only to find you crouched over his weight set.

“No way! You lift?” you grab the dumbbell, testing out a few bicep curls.

“I may be a nerd, but I don’t just sit around at my computer all day,” he snatches the dumbbell effortlessly from your hand. “It’s important for me to stay healthy.”

“Namjoon,” you whisper, your voice dropping into a hush. “Why did you do this in the first place? I mean, help Jaehyun. It’s not like the two of you were even friends to begin with. Didn’t he shove you into the lockers once in high school?”

Namjoon’s eyes meet your own, and there’s a hint of glassiness in them before he turns away and scans his room, taking in the rumpled pillows, discarded beer cans, and ink splotches from where he left his marker uncapped the other day.

“I didn’t mean to get involved in this, I swear,” he begins, fidgeting with his hands. “But you see me, right? I’m nearly 30 and I still live in my parents basement. I thought that I’d go to college, get my engineering degree, and work in some high-powered job by now. But, life had different plans.”

“What do you mean different plans?” you question, moving to sit next to him on the bed, your heart falling slightly at the way he awkwardly shifts his body away from you.

“Wait here,” he says, the bed lifting as he lumbers to his feet. “I’ll be right back.”

Namjoon was turning out to be full of surprises. While the two of you had never gone beyond being acquaintances in physics class, you knew he’d been an awkward kid growing up, always too tall and too clumsy. Yet, you’d never forgotten his kind heart, him always offering to lend you notes, or stopping to water the tiny flowers that grew outside the school. He was a good person, and it made you upset to think that he could’ve been caught up in one of Jaehyun’s schemes.

A loud thud disrupts your thoughts, and you hear a shit! in the background, looking up to see Namjoon drop a large cardboard box in front of you.

“Here’s to hoping I didn’t do much damage,” he worries, a furrow in his brow. He reaches into the box, and pulls out a glass jar, which he drops into your hands.

“I don’t understand…” you take in the jar, which has the lovely scent of freshly mowed grass emanating from it.

“Well, you see, there’s been a gap in the candle market,” he wipes the dust of his pants, standing up excitedly, ready to lecture. “I’ve been to too many of my friends’ houses, and their rooms smell like bong water. It drives me crazy. I know a lot of them are too fragile to light something that smells like vanilla or flowers, so I created my own line of scents to cater to the underserved candle-loving population.”

Your mouth is agape at his revelation, and for a second, Namjoon rubs the back of his neck, seeming embarrassed that he even told you this in the first place.

“That’s amazing!” you smile, causing Namjoon to flinch slightly at your excitement. “That’s so genius, I can’t even tell you how many guys’ apartments I’ve been in that smell like ass. Why hasn’t this taken off yet?”

“Because,” Namjoon sighs. “A business requires money. It’s not like I can just ask my parents or Jin for money, they’d laugh at me. So when Jaehyun reached out asking for help, and offered to pay, I knew I couldn’t turn it down. It was wrong, but I hope you can forgive me for it.”

“Give me a discount once you launch them,” you say softly, his dimples poking into his cheeks at your words. “And I think that can be arranged.”

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The bright, white screen of your laptop burns your eyes as you stare back at the empty Google Doc. You’d been home for a little over a week, and no progress on the article. There was no explanation for why you were so stuck. You wrote about stuff like this all the time, right? Why was it so hard now?

Taking a sip of your peppermint latte, you muse, wondering if you’d finally reached your end writing about disaster dates. At some point, it had been fun, and you’d just been so excited to write about something, anything at all. You loved how the words flowed from your mind onto the page, and your humor while you recounted the miserable events of your life was in it’s way, a form of healing for both you and your readers.

However, amongst the jokes and the mishaps, the emptiness of being alone had started to set in. Not only that, but you began to question whether it was okay for you to consistently undervalue yourself and portray yourself as a caricature, when in reality, you were a strong, hard-working woman. That was the moment you begged Ji-hoon to start considering giving you different assignments.But only after you finished this damn piece.

And here you were, sat in a café, with no progress made at all. Your dreams had never seemed further away.

The bell tied to the door jingles, signaling the arrival of a new customer. Ever the people watcher, you tilt your head up to acknowledge the new entry, when your jaw drops. It’s Jeong Jaehyun. And he’s heading right towards you.

“____!” he yells, waving his hand, cheeks red from the cold. “It’s so good to see you, you look great! How has everything been?”

You gulp, not knowing what to say to him. On one hand, he’d deceived you by using Namjoon as a front for the conversation you two had. On the other hand, Jaehyun was who you’d fallen for in the first place.

“Listen,” he says. “I know it’s a busy time of year, but I was wondering if you still wanted to meet up? We were supposed to when you first got here, remember?”

Your thoughts drift to the day that had started this whole mess. What puzzled you was that Jaehyun seemed to have no awareness that you were in a fake relationship with Namjoon. Then, you remembered the two of them were barely friends, and Namjoon only got caught up in Jaehyun’s harebrained scheme to woo you. Still, Jaehyun had been the initial person that had caught your interest. It would be unfair to play along with Namjoon and also not give him a chance, right?

“Ummm,” you begin, your hesitancy to jump into the situation evident. “Yeah sure! Sure, we can do that. Let’s meet tomorrow morning, at the new brunch place that opened on Oak?”

He winks in response, causing your face to heat up. You look back at him, widening your eyes in expectation of some verbal confirmation.

“It’s a date.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“The prodigal son is here,” an obnoxious voice has you jolting awake from your afternoon nap, blearily rubbing your eyes when you see it’s gotten dark outside. You’d passed out after your fun date with Jaehyun that morning. He seemed like a much nicer person than you’d known in high school, and the buried teenager within you squealed at the fact that you’d finally gone on a date with the man of your dreams.

“What,” you squint, making out a shirtless Namjoon changing in the corner. You gasp, averting your eyes, hoping he didn’t catch you ogling him. “What in Rudolph’s name is that? It sounds like a siren upstairs.”

“That,” Namjoon fusses, picking lint off his sweater, offering you his hand to lift you out of bed. “Is my brother Jin. Ready to meet the favorite son?”

You open your mouth to argue-, still wearing the clothes from your date with Jaehyun, when Namjoon puts out a hand to stop you.

“___, you look fine. You look pretty actually.”

Your face breaks out into a smile, taking his hand as the two of you bound up the stairs from the basement. Looking around, your jaw drops at the cosy Christmas scene in the Kims’ living room, the whole family dressed in knit sweaters as the fireplace hung with stockings roars behind them. The two new additions catch your eye, a pretty, well dressed-woman and a tall man with shoulders so broad you can’t take your eyes off him.

“What the fuck,” you lean in and whisper in Namjoon’s ear. “You never told me your brother was so hot!”

“That’s before you hear him speak,” Namjoon shoots back. “Braincells down the drain.”

“Joon-ah!” the pretty man screams, reaching out to slap Namjoon on the back. You wince as you watch Namjoon recoil from the force of the slap. “My favorite brother! What’s going on, man?”

Finally noticing you, he cranes his head to get a better look, throwing a questioning glance in Namjoon’s direction.

“This is ___,” Namjoon steps back, and you give the family a little wave.

“Is she in Mom’s bookclub? One of Halmeoni’s knitting club friends?” Jin jeers, unable to fathom an explanation for your presence.

“Seokjin-ah, don’t be rude,” Namjoon’s mother pulls his ear, earning a yelp from her older son. “This is Namjoon’s girlfriend!”

“OH!” Seokjin sputters out. “Oh, you guys are serious! Well, I-, I, for one, am so pumped! You know, Irene and I were just wondering how Namjoon was still single. I mean, granted, he lives in the basement, and the glasses aren’t doing him any favors, but this is a Christmas miracle.”

He comes up to you, vigorously shaking your hand and thanking you. You look at him in disgust, put off completely by his rude comments about his brother. Never one to back down from putting a jerk in their place, you decide to say something.

“The pleasure’s all mine, Jin,” you reach over to sling an arm around Namjoon’s shoulders, pulling him closer to you.

The evening with the Kims passes by relatively uneventfully, well, except for the fact that you and Jin almost started a boxing match over who got to put the star on the tree. When you’d won and claimed your shiny trophy, Jin had only mumbled about how you’d put it on crooked and that he’d go back and fix it when everyone was asleep.

Yawning, you slip under the covers, the dim light of Namjoon’s desk lamp preventing you from falling asleep as your eyes begin to droop.

“Jin loves being the center of attention, doesn’t he?” you whisper, not expecting Namjoon to hear you as he works at his desk.

“He’s just used to it,” Namjoon sighs, taking off his glasses and running a hand through his hair. “He’s always been Mom and Dad’s favorite.”

“The next time he tries to steal the spotlight from you, Namjoon, steal it back,” you mumble sleepily.

Shocked, Namjoon turns to respond, tears building up in his eyes at your encouragement to stand up for himself. But when he looks, you’ve already dozed off. Smiling to himself, he flips the lamp switch and lays his head on the desk, ready to join you in the land of dreams.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“We wish you a merry Christmas… and a Happy New Year!” Seokjin’s melodic voice rings out into the cold night as he finishes the song with a pair of jazz hands amidst raucous applause.

“Your brother seems a little too into this,” you lean over and whisper in Namjoon’s ear. The Kim family had made their way down to the local nursing home to carol, as they did every year, and you’d be surprised at seeing how invested they were in spreading cheer to the older residents. Particularly Seokjin with his overzealous renditions of every song punctuated with runs and falsettos.

“He does this every year,” Namjoon grins, his dimples popping as he pushes his glasses up onto the bridge of his nose. “It’s his way of establishing dominance.”

Seokjin asks the crowd if there are any more requests, and Ms. Mehta, the sweet old lady who never speaks much, enthusiastically makes her plea for “Baby It’s Cold Outside.”

“___ and I got this one!” Namjoon blurts out, and you whip your head to the side and give him a look that has him gulping.

“Namjoon,” you seethe, as he holds your hand and guides you to the front of the room. “I am not singing in front of these people. Over my cold, dead, lifeless body.”

“You said not to let him steal the spotlight from me again,” Namjoon mumbles, eyes downcast. “Besides, I have an idea. Just follow my lead, okay?”

Seokjin squints at you both, and you shudder under his scrutinizing gaze as he switches on the music.

“I really can’t stayyy,” you begin, your throat burning from your off-key singing voice being unused for many years. You hadn’t sung since the seventh grade play, where you played a background shop worker.

“No problem, there’s the door,” Namjoon responds, and you’re taken aback both by his change in the lyrics, but also the pleasant quality timbre of his voice. It’s raw from disuse as well, but there’s a mellifluous sincerity to the way he belts out the words in his breathy tone.

“This evening has been,” you continue on, a smile lighting up your face and a giggle escaping when Namjoon responds with “totally consensual.”

“I hope you get home safe tonight,” Namjoon croons to the coos of the nursing home crowd as they take in your non-traditional rendition.

The two of you work your way through the song, smiling when Namjoon offers his phone to give your worrying mother a call, assuring you that the drink is just lemon Lacroix.

“I ought to say no no no,” you smile as the crowd begins to clap along and you see Seokjin’s fuming face turn red.

“I’ll call you an Uber, they’re close,” Namjoon belts.

“Well you better go outsideeee!” the two of you harmonize, finishing up the song as the room erupts in cheers, many of the residents concerningly standing up from their walkers and wheelchairs to give you their kudos.

A strange feeling blooms in Namjoon’s chest as he stares into your sparkling eyes, laughing as you chat with the crowd and blush at their compliments.

“Excuse me, everyone!” Seokjin interrupts the festivities with his booming voice. “Irene and I have an announcement to make. Mom, Dad, you’re going to be grandparents.”

The crowd goes even wilder at his announcement, and you see Mr. and Mrs. Kim rush to his side, tears in their eyes, as they take in the happy news. Looking to your other side, you see a dejected Namjoon offer you a weak smile before he turns his head away and stares at the wall. Your heart drops at his sadness, remembering how happy he’d been moments before.

“May I have everyone’s attention please?” Namjoon barks out, his voice clipped. You can feel the acrimony radiating off him in waves. “Hyung, I just want to say congrats to you and Irene, it’s a dream come true for you both. Seeing you so happy and in love… it was a dream I never dared to have for myself. Until I met ___.”

You balk as Namjoon approaches you, dropping onto one knee, clenching your teeth as you motion for him to stop.

“___,” he begins, and you want to lift a hand to stop him right there, but fear doing it in front of so many people.

“Get up right now,” you hiss, rage crawling up the back of your neck.

“I know we haven’t known each other for that long,” he continues. “But they say when you know, you know. Will you marry me?”

A hush falls over the crowd as Mrs. Kim lets out a loud gasp, tears of joy flooding her eyes, and through the pounding of your heart, you hear Seokjin mumble about how Namjoon doesn’t even have a ring. Everything feels so blurry and out of focus, and your feet feel stuck, almost absorbed in a pool of quicksand. You want to do something to escape this situation, to run away, but you can’t.

Suddenly, you hear a shuffling to your side as you see Halmeoni come to stand right beside you, pulling off her mitten and slipping the dainty emerald ring off her finger and offering it to Namjoon.The cheers from the crowd become louder, all of them pleading for you to say yes.

You close your eyes, sighing and taking a deep breath as you try to calm your racing heart. This has to be the stupidest thing you’ve ever done, but you’d find a way out of this later.

“Yes,” you breathe out shakily, gasping as he slips the ring onto your finger. It’s a perfect fit.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“Listen,” Namjoon stutters, chasing after you as you stomp down the stairs to the basement. “I know you’re mad, but you told me to stand up for myself!”

“I told you to stand up for yourself, Namjoon, not fucking get down on one knee!” you seethe, feeling your face heat up with fury. “Your grandma gave me a ring off of her finger!”

You collapse onto his bed and sob. Namjoon reaches over to pull you against him, but withdraws upon seeing your anger.

“Nothing has to change,” he says sadly. “We can make it through Christmas and then you’ll go back to the city and we’ll tell everyone that things didn’t work out.”

“Trust me,” you feel the bed dip as he sits down next to you. “I’m used to being the family disappointment, they won’t think anything of it at all.”

“I have a date with Jaehyun tomorrow too!” you wail. “What if he finds out? Fix this!”

. . .

Startled, you run up the stairs straight into Namjoon’s father bringing in firewood from outside.

“Ahhhh ___,” he remarks. “Would you like to help me out and get the fireplace going?”

“Sure!” you say a little too desperately, wanting anything to get your mind off of Namjoon. You watch him hunch over the fireplace and start scrunching up bits of newspaper along with the wood, and are taken aback by how much Namjoon looks like his father. Looking for any form of distraction, you peer at the framed photos that rest on the mantle, one of them in particular catching your eye.

“Who’s this?” you point to an older photo, recognizing all of the members of the Kim family except a man with gray hair.

“That was my dad,” Mr. Kim reminisces. “He passed a few years ago. There were two things that man loved more than anything - Namjoon and Christmas. He would always play pretend with Namjoon and climb up on the rooftop and stomp around like Santa had come. Joon couldn’t get enough of it!”

A smile breaks out onto your face at the mention of the happy memory, and you hold the frame in your hands to see a small Namjoon in front of his grandfather, dimples on display and glasses too big for his tiny face.

“You know, ___,” Mr. Kim interrupts you. “We’re really happy to have you joining the family. Namjoon hasn’t been the same since his grandfather passed. He’s always been quiet and shy, but he seems even more reserved now. I’m so glad he has you to break him out of his shell.”

Your heart drops in your chest at the tenderness in his voice. You’d have to break all of their hearts soon.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“Namjoon, you have to help me, I’m freaking out,” you heave, sitting on the floor of the public bathroom as you panic.

This morning, you’d gone on a lovely hike with Jaehyung through the forest, the two of you exchanging shy glances and laughing over family stories. You had just been in the middle of thanking him for such a wonderful hiking date when he’d sent your expectations crashing down in one second, informing you that the real date was going downhill skiing with him.

“Ok, just breathe,” Namjoon’s voice crackles over the speaker. “Do you have your AirPods? Just put them in and listen to music.”

You frantically rummage through your bag for the earbuds, heart dropping when you realize you’d left the one item that could’ve saved you from ruin at home. Instead, your arm closes around a small item wrapped in plastic, and you smile to yourself as you pull out the gummy from your backpack.

“I found something better than Airpods.” A smug smile lights up your face.

. . .

Swaying, you bound down the basement stairs with a skip in your step, greeting Namjoon as he sits hunched over his desk.

“Glad you’re not dead,” Namjoon quips, taking in the sight of your exuberant figure.

“I’ve never felt more alive!” you shout into the void, protesting as Namjoon clamps a hand over your mouth. “Jaehyun asked me out on a date tomorrow night. You know, it feels like things are finally looking up. I finally met someone who’s as perfect on paper as he is in real life.”

A grim look colors Namjoon’s features as he juts his jaw out, clenching it to bite back his counter-argument to your statement.

“You know,” Namjoon begins, unable to contain himself. “Jaehyun is far from perfect. In fact, in some cultures, perfect eyesight and facial symmetry are considered repulsive.”

“Why are you being so weird?” you scrunch your eyebrows, hopping over to join Namjoon’s side at his desk. “Whatcha doing?”

“Just mixing some new scents,” Namjoon mumbles, staring at the wall.

You lean over him to pick up a candle, inhaling deeply as the smell of freshly cut grass permeates your senses. Namjoon is quick to tell you that the candle is named Lawnmower, and you roll your eyes at his lack of creativity. The next one you sample has the smell of sweat, but also motor oil, lending itself to a surprisingly pleasant scent. Namjoon raises yet another eyebrow, telling you this one is named Jiffy Lube.

You pick another candle up from the batch, but before you can begin to smell, Namjoon reaches over and attempts to snatch it from your grasp.

“Sorry! That one’s for me,” he squawks, but you move your arm out of the way just in time. Taking a deep whiff, you nearly groan at the delightful scent that meets your nostrils, the notes tinged with eucalyptus, Old Spice, and the tiniest hint of what you presume to be gasoline.

“What is this one?” you sigh, taking another deep inhale. “It smells so good.”

Namjoon stares tenderly at the candle in your hands, a far-off look in his eyes.

“It’s called Grandpa,” he smiles wistfully. “I started making candles because of him in the first place. The ability to take a scent, and create something so thoughtful, something so familiar. I-, I thought it would help keep his memory alive. It’s lame, I know.”

He chokes on the last few syllables, eyes misting as he quickly turns his head, not wanting you to see his emotions shine through.

“It’s not lame, Namjoon,” you whisper, putting a hand on his shoulder and leaning in to rest your head in the crook of his neck. “It’s really sweet. You’re really sweet.”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

“Pass the popcorn please,” your mother asks, the two of you curled up underneath the blanket while your father sits on the armchair next to you.

The soft hum of Silent Night echoes in the background as Love Actually plays on the tv. With all the craziness of the past few days, it was nice to be able to sit down and enjoy your time with your parents.You had yet to tell them about your “engagement”. It all seemed so surreal, and you wanted to have the peace and quiet that came with being home for the holidays.

All of a sudden, your phone pings, a notification from Namjoon lighting up your screen.

“We have a problem. The engagement announcement was sent to the paper by my grandma. Meet me outside your house in 20 mins. We have some papers to steal.”

. . .

“Slow down, Namjoon,” you whoop, as the two of you run off into the night, clad in hats and scarves in the winter chill.

You grab the last stack of newspapers from the Mins’ front porch, and jog for your life, meeting Namjoon in front of his car parked down the street.

You throw the papers in the trunk, slamming it shut before you jump into the backseat, along with Namjoon, the both of you ducking your heads to avoid arousing any suspicion.

“I’m pretty sure we’re gonna get the paperboy fired from his job,” Namjoon chuckles, and the two of you collapse into a fit of giggles at the exhilarating run you’d just gone on in the early hours of the morning.

“I think we got all of them,” you muse, opening up one of the papers to see Namjoon’s smiling face greet you on the front page along with your awestruck one. “I look like a deer in the headlights. You, on the other hand, look pretty good for the front page!”

“Ahhhh,” Namjoon lets out a groan. “That’s probably the only decent photo of me in existence.”

“Why do you do that?” you question, causing Namjoon to shift uncomfortably in his seat. “You’re not ugly, Namjoon. I know for a fact there’d be so many girls who are into you.”

“You should give up writing texts for Jaehyun, and put yourself out there!” you say enthusiastically, your face lighting up at the idea of Namjoon finally finding the love he deserved.

“I don’t think that’s going to work out,” Namjoon mumbles, looking out the window.

“Why not? Namjoon, you’re smart, sweet, hard-working, in love with your family, and not to mention, built! Tell me what girl wouldn’t want you!” you give him a playful tap on his shoulder.

Scowling, he shrugs his arm away, sighing deeply as if he’s lost in thought.

“It’s not going to work,because I’ve tried it all, okay? I’ve tried messaging other girls, but I don’t even want to pursue anything with them, because there’s only one woman I want. And I fucked it all up with her.”

Your face blanches at his admission. Surely, he couldn’t be talking about who you thought he was talking about. Heart racing, you try to open your mouth to respond to his admission, but no words come out.

“Namjoon, who are you talking about?” you whisper softly, but sternly. “Tell me, please.”

“I lied when I said I wanted to help Jaehyun get you,” he said. “I’ve always liked you, ___. Ever since high school. And when I was sitting with him that day and your picture came up, all I could think about was how much you’d changed, how cool and confident you seemed, and how much I wanted to talk to you again.”

“So I played it off as me helping Jaehyun,” he continues, taking in the sight of your furrowed brows. “I thought that, maybe if you saw the texts, and fell for the guy behind them, and not just Jaehyun’s profile full of workout selfies, that maybe you’d consider giving a nerd like me a chance.”

“I don’t understand,” you breathe out. “Why would you tell me this now? You had so many chances to say something, Namjoon.”

“I don’t expect you to respond to me,” Namjoon sighs. “That would be ridiculous, considering how much I’ve lied to you and how much I’ve made you sacrifice for me. I just wanted to stop the lies, and be honest with myself, and with you for once.”

Tears prick your lids as you sit there and ponder Namjoon’s confession. A funny feeling blooms in your chest, and suddenly, you feel as though a thousand butterflies have taken up residence inside of you, flitting their tiny wings and sending tiny shivers throughout your body.

Before you can speak, Namjoon lumbers over the console and jumps into the front seat, firing up the engine.

“Cmon,” he nods to you in the back. “I’ll drive you home. You have a date with Jaehyun, remember?”

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The quiet din of the chatter from the steakhouse patrons echoes in the background as you sit and listen to Jaehyun drone on about his latest workout routine. Before, you’d found him so riveting, unable to tear your eyes away from his angular jaw and tousled hair. Now, when you look at him, all you can see are crooked glasses, and the glimpse of two deep dimples poking out from his cheeks.

Namjoon’s confession had been sitting with you ever since the other night. Namjoon had done so much wrong, had lied to you countless times, but why did your relationship with him feel more true than anything else you’d ever experienced in your life? All the texts you’d exchanged beforehand, the warm smiles and knowing looks from hanging with his eccentric family, the laughs as the moments you shared painted vivid pictures in your memory, cementing themselves in your mind like pictures on the pages of a scrapbook.

Your mind wanders back to a few hours ago, when Namjoon caught you in the middle of leaving for your date with Jaehyun. The air between the two of you had been awkward, yet Namjoon had quelled the frigidity with a smile, remarking that you looked perfect, and that Jaehyun was “one lucky man”.

Sitting with Jaehyun, you’d always considered yourself the lucky one, capturing the attention of your high school’s former “it boy”, or who you thought would have been the man of your dreams. Now, it all felt like a devastating lie, not unlike the one you were caught up in with Namjoon.

Jaehyun was wonderful, spectacular even, but he wasn’t the one for you.

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

The dawn light filters into the basement, and you open your eyes to see Namjoon curled up in a pile of blankets on the floor, snoring away. Smiling, you think back on your revelation from last night.

Today, the Kims were making a trip to the nursing home again. Halmeoni had roped the residents into accepting a class on online dating in their old age, taught by both you and Namjoon, her so-called experts. Today was also the day you decided to confess your feelings to Namjoon, to let him know that somewhere down the line in this comedy of errors, you’d fallen for him too.

You’d never seen a group of older people so enthused about putting themselves out there, bouncing ideas off of each other about what to put in their profiles, chattering loudly amongst themselves. You think back to the article you’d promised Ji-Hoon, and your brain lights up at the thought of finally abandoning your search for love, and instead showcasing these residents and their quests.

Looking over at Namjoon, you see a tick in his jaw at the sight of all the residents, and he lets out a deep sigh.

“Okay, everyone, let’s all calm down,” his voice booms out, creating a hush amongst the crowd.

“I get that you’re all excited,” he begins. “I really do. You want to put your best foot forward. All of you have lived such full, vibrant lives, with so many interesting stories to tell. But then the insecurities creep in. So you tweak your story a little bit. Still you, just a shinier version. And you keep going, until the real you, which was probably amazing to begin with, is unrecognizable.”

Namjoon turns to look at you, and you see him swallow as the faint glimmer of tears coats his eyelashes.

“I think we all forget though,” he chokes out. “That on the other side of the lie, there’s a real person. Falling in love with a version of you that doesn’t exist. And that’s not fair to either of you, because for them, it’ll end in disappointment. And for you, it’ll end in heartbreak. If I’ve learned anything from my relationship with ___, it’s that love doesn’t have to be perfect, it just has to be honest.”

You feel your heart drop in your chest as Namjoon turns his face away from the crowd, looking out the window amidst the boisterous applause. Stepping towards him, you reach for his hand, ready to give him the present you’d gotten, only for him to excuse himself, saying he has to step outside to speak to his parents.

Head spinning, you indulge Mrs. Khan’s inquiries for a few brief moments about which selfies are the best to put on her profile.

“I’m sorry,” you put a sympathetic hand on her shoulder. “I have to step out for a moment.”

Making your way to the doorway, you conceal yourself from Namjoon’s view, as he’s deep in conversation with his very flustered parents. Mrs. Kim’s eyes are red, like she’s been crying, and Mr. Kim wraps a sympathetic arm around her shoulders.

Listening in, you catch winds of “I’m sorry I lied”, to “I was only trying to help ___ get Jaehyun” and “I know you’re disappointed”. To your horror, you look up at the most incorrect time to see Seokjin glaring daggers at you from the staircase. And that’s when your face blanches in horror. He knows. They all know. Namjoon told them everything.

Bile rises up in your stomach as you feel vomit rise up in the back of your throat. Namjoon had taken the fall for you once again. You think back to how you could have easily avoided this mess by confessing to him sooner, making sure that he didn’t have to out himself to his parents like this, with only the bitter sting of disappointment and a broken relationship in his wake.

You feel a pair of eyes on yours, and look to see Namjoon staring at you in the doorway. His parents and Jin have both retreated into the main room. Looking at his guilty face, you feel tears seeping down your face, shaking your head as you turn on your heels and run out the front door.

Namjoon wants to run after you, to hug your shaking body and wipe your tears away, but he knows he doesn’t have a right to anymore. His eyes catch the glint of sparkly wrapping paper on the floor, and he drops to his knees to examine the gift that had fallen out of your hands, addressed to him.

Tearing away the crinkly paper, his eyes fall on a candle, a note attached to it.

Dear Namjoon,

A passion whose flame fails to be fanned eventually burns out. You are the brightest light I’ve ever met. Please don’t be afraid to be you.

Love (I guess I mean this literally),

____

◦◦,`°.✽✦✽.◦.✽✦✽.°`,◦◦

New Year’s Eve

Waiting for the fireworks was always the hardest part. Your parents had gone to sleep long ago, claiming they were too old to see the promise of what a New Year brought.

Since the nursing home debacle, you’d made some sort of progress in terms of getting your life together. Realizing you couldn’t keep chasing after the promise of love to provide fulfillment, you’d reached out to Jaehyun, telling him you enjoyed your time together, but unfortunately, you didn’t feel the same way. You’d also come clean to your parents about the entire Namjoon situation. While they had been shocked, and slightly upset, your mother had pulled your head into her lap and combed your hair as you cried. She’d told you to find him again and tell him about your feelings, but you didn’t know if you could stomach hurting him anymore.

Pulling up your laptop, you see an email from Ji-Hoon, which causes you to roll your eyes. Of course your boss would be on your case during a worldwide holiday. Opening it, you read over his threat.

____,

Christmas has come and gone, and no article! I’ll be seeing you in my office when you come back.

Sighing deeply, you make a vow to yourself once you got back to the city, you’d stand up to Ji-Hoon, telling him you were tired of writing about dating, and that you wanted to prove yourself as a real journalist. You’d had enough of going along with other people’s plans for you, deciding to take charge of your life.

Unfortunately, that also meant deleting CheckMate from your phone. Before you’d gotten rid of the app for good, you’d paused upon seeing there was one new profile in your area. Opening it up, you’re greeted with Namjoon’s smiling face in various photos, from him riding his bike to hugging a puppy. You break out into a grin at the caption underneath.

Looking for someone who can see me for who I am.

A knock on the door interrupts your musing, and you furrow your brow. Who could be here at this hour?

Twisting the doorknob, you gasp as you’re met with the sight of Namjoon, decked out in a cosy sweater and scarf, a beanie on top of his messy hair. He smiles at you, and that’s when you realize he’s holding something in his hands. They look to be giant poster boards of some sort.

The reference isn’t lost on you as your heart begins to race, and you give him a slight nod, urging him to move forward.

Namjoon flips over the first card.

I’ve spent my entire life trying to be the perfect guy, hoping to catch the attention of the most perfect girl.

You feel your face heat up as he changes over the cards, your heartbeat continuing to pound in your ears.

But there’s perfect, and then there’s me.

A sad smile crosses your face as you read the card, but you look up, and Namjoon lets out a chuckle.

Most people want someone to read the Sunday newspaper with. I want someone who steals it with me on a Saturday night.

A giggle escapes your lips, and Namjoon’s smile grows wider, eyes turning into half moon crescents.

So can you ever forgive me? For taking so long to realize that it’s you, I love, actually?

You don’t even wait for Namjoon to drop the last card before you’re bounding down the steps, tackling him into the snow and crashing your lips onto his. You feel Namjoon let out a small groan, wrapping his arms around you to push you closer into his chest.

As you break apart, the two of you exchange shy smiles, faces heating as you stare into each other’s eyes.

“I got your gift,” Namjoon whispers softly, pausing to press a kiss to your nose, which has become chapped and red from the cold.

“Until I read that tiny note,” he says, breathing fogging in the winter air. “I was so prepared for this whole thing to be a sour memory, another thing that I let my insecurities ruin for me.”

“But I thought more about it,” he says, “And I realized that you, ___, you taught me how to be brave. How to make daring, and sometimes stupid decisions, but to never be afraid of going out on a limb and expressing myself.”

“So, I want to give this a shot,” he declares. “I told my dad about my candle-making business. And, he didn’t think I was weird for it! I got a loan from him, and I’m moving to the city next month.”

He beams, and your eyes widen in surprise. Gazingly tenderly at him, you brush the messy strands of hair.

“Love stories for me have always had bad endings,” you respond. “But I’m excited for this one to be a new beginning.”

Throwing your arms around him, the two of you stay there, holding each other for who knows how many moments, until the first firecracker lights up the sky.

“Happy New Year, ___,” Namjoon says softly. “Here’s to being us.”

Taking your hand in his you, lay your head on his chest, looking up at the spectacle that signals the promise of new hope.

“Here’s to us.”

A/N pt. 2: Onyx, I really hope you enjoyed this 10k long crack fest lmao! I loved being your secret santa. Thanks for reading! As always, any feedback or comments are much appreciated, but I appreciate you all anyway. Lots of love, Isi 💜

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opal-apples · 3 years ago

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anyone remember my speech and debate au well I do and I'm judging a tournament this weekend so I've got a lot thoughts under the cut. apologies for the jargon

ok jargon definitions in the tags

WWX: does policy because he's a brat (affectionate). loves it when people try to spread because he knows he can spread faster. if he does a speech event, he does impromptu & extemp because again he is Annoying (loving) (also i do extemp and impromptu bc i'm annoying too so. don't come at me.)

JGY: does policy because he's a realist. loves mind games. runs accessibility arguments because 1. they make him look good and 2. he hates people on big teams who think they're better because they have more resources than him. he does speech because he likes manipulation public speaking. i'm thinking persuade / info. he does extemp (see mind games) but not impromptu, he thinks he's better than the event (he is). i could see him thinking about running an protect sexworkers interp (DI?) but eventually decides against it

i think a wwx jgy policy team would be unbeatable bc wwx would give the most terrible bs case in the world and then jgy would make you feel stupid for thinking it's bs when it so clearly is. that's my hot take. also they both take everything personally but hide it well.

XXC: speech boy. IF he did debate he would do like LD but i don't see it for him. Does a lot of poetry and interps. The topics are all basic but he's such a good performer it doesn't matter. Doesn't think he's any better than anyone else (he is) and doesn't understand everyone in the circuit is a little bit in love with him.

SL: speech boy. would do debate but his want to hangout with xxc outweighs his interest in debate. does platforms because he has A Lot To Say. Crit because it's fun but also because it's pretentious. Thinks he's better than you (he's not)

Mianmian is a debate girl and i'm in love with her. queen of LD. good at running identity cases because debate is super sexist. she would be so reasonable and logical and friendly outside of round ok i'm done.

Yanli reads really beautiful poetry and interps. loses her chill later in her speech career and runs stuff on chronic illness and inaccessibility in speech due to it's stressful and demanding nature. (or at least i like to think she does)

XY: debate boy. would run purposefully annoying cases to twist his opponents' words. runs like 3 cases at a time so he can focus on the one the opponent didn't get to.

LXC is a speech boy and i love him a lot. does both interps and platforms. again the topics tend towards basic but he's just such a good speaker it doesn't really matter. one season he runs like an interp about absent fathers and everybody cries. doesn't do debate

if WN was on the team i think he would read like freaky dark interps. like they're good and he's very polite and positive outside of round but homeboy is REPRESSING A LOT

if JC and/or NMJ is on the team (which idk it's probably too theoretical/theatrical for them), they both take everything personally and do NOT hide it well. after like 10pm, NMJ cries whether he wins or loses (me too king). i don't see JC sticking around for very long except for his canonical pressure to compete with WWX in EVERYTHING

LWJ is not on the team (good for him!! wish that were me). he is however at almost every meet, first for LXC and later for WWX. likes to go over debate rounds with WWX if he finds them interesting.

WQ is not on the team she has better things to do

JZX is not on the team either god bless this boy. brings yanli coffee and doesn't know what's going on <3 (again. wish this was me)

anyway. thank you for coming to my tedtalk and i'm sorry for everything about this.

#right.#spreading: contraction of Speed Reading used to dump as much information into a speech as possible #policy: debate type that focuses on real world impacts. uses a plan. very fast and can spiral to purely theoretical arguments quickly #impromptu: speech type that gives the speaker 3 prompts. they have 7 minutes to plan and give a speech on the fly. usually funny #extemp: speech type that asks 3 current event questions. speaker has 30min to prep and 7 minutes to speak #persuade: speech type where there is a call to action from the audience to fix a problem #info: speech type that presents information on a relevant topic. no call to action #interps: speech events where the speaker takes a piece of published lit and performs it with an argument.#DI: dramatic interpretation. focuses on character development of an interpretive piece. usually sad #LD: lincoln douglas debate. can be very fast or not. supposed to focus on ethics and what is doesn't always :/#platforms: speeches that are written by the speaker. info and persuade fall here as well as crit #crit: has lots of names but rhetorical criticism is a critique of a piece of public rhetoric. like Is This Celeb Apology A Good Apology?#identity cases: debate cases that include the identity of the debater. im not an expert in them so don't want to speak too much for them #in short they're really important to diversifying the debate space #this is Niche Indulgent AUs Hour #brought to you by me a speech and debate kid #mdzs #jo talks #sorry again for everything about this #hmu if u have questions i guess #speech & debate au

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transmalewife · 2 years ago

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💻 📥 🍰??

💻 Do you do research for your fics? What’s the deepest dive you’ve done?

I do, but at the wrong moments. I've gone down many a wookiepedia rabbit holes to find out what a tatooinian rabbit would be called for an offhand line, but when it comes to writing mechanics or fighting i tend to just wing it. although, fun fact, I wrote sabine having an idea on how to make a spaceship work once, and I thought it was utterly ridiculous and unbelievable, until i found out months later the actual space shuttles used something very similar

last year when i was deeply depressed and writing constantly to escape my problems i was just constantly watching and rewatching the movies and relevant clone wars episodes as research, so that was a deep deep dive into a kiddie pool i suppose.

Oh also for the as yet unfinished sequel to my gomens fic I really really tried to learn more about slavic prechristian religion and witchcraft but unfortunately that culture has been thoughroughly erased by a thousand years of christianity and n*zis appropriating whatever was left. I'm being a touch dramatic there are books that have the information I want, but I just don't care enough about a two year old good omens wip to read them.

📥 What is your fave fic to receive comments/messages on?

How to build a friend from scratch, hands down. That fic hovers around a 1:1 comment to kudos ratio whenever I actually update it which is incredible. Nearly no one has read it but the few people who did have started the most interesting discussions in the comments and it's always really entertaining to see how delighted people are with seeing a fic centered on sabine and vader. And I truly feel like i've stumbled on something really good with the premise and its definitely an untapped niche. theres still only 3 vader & sabine fics on ao3, just like when i started it, and two of them are mine. Getting comments on that feels like a private little thing, compared to other fics. Like we're all in on the joke.

🍰 Name one of your fave comfort fics (doesn’t have to be your all time fave).

I don't read much fanfic these days, but anything black sails by vovelinthug is always guaranteed to captivate and destroy me emotionally. Idk if i mentioned that before but I have absolutely no wish to write bs fic, because I feel like the story is too good, too well rounded for anything I have to say to be worth addding. And the power that a writer has, who is able to perfectly slot their work into that kind of story, without it seeming disjointed, is incredible. before the last season came out, and even after, every time I rewatch the show, i immediately follow it with st. augustine is that way In my mind they are just one story.

I just remembered hands of clay by mhalachai being something very comforting, that I read over a period of years as it was posted. I lost interest in marvel at some point, or the fic just got too long for my patience, so I never finished it, but i definitely want to one of these days. one of the few modern, domestic aus of anything that i actually enjoyed.

If you're looking for star wars, then tano and kenobi by fireflyfish is very important to me, and has been for years. it definitely influenced my own writing a lot and i even have an unposted wip directly inspired by it in premise. although that's another one I just sort of drifted away from at some point. I'm mostly caught up, I think, but I apparently just don't have the attention span to stay loyal to a fic beyond 200k.

as always my ask game reading comprehension sucks, I was supposed to name one. but the thing is, most of what I read is not very comforting, and usually oneshots, so they don't really stick in my mind well enough to point to one specific one and say this one, this is my favorite, even though i like oneshots much more than multichapter fics.

#ask #anon #ask game #my writing #lets keep this going im having fun and getting reminded of ideas i had to finish fics

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whocalledhimannux · 4 years ago

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@peregrer the What. 👀👀👀 *insert John Mulaney gif of "say more right now"*

ok so when I say "the extent to which I've fleshed out the QT GBBO AU in my head is getting to be embarrassing," I truly and deeply mean it, please enjoy 1,900 words of utter ridiculousness.

first, our competitors:

Legarus - performs so poorly that viewers are a bit confused how he got on the show in the first place, a la Jamie (series 10) or that one guy who made a lime and chocolate cake in the first week.

Chloe - nice flavors and good ideas for decorations, but pretty sloppy. was up for elimination in the first week but came back with a great showstopper.

Melheret - good but not as good as he thinks he is (hence his bread week elimination because of sloppy technique), heavy-handed with the alcohol flavoring

Agape - solid competitor, not flashy but tasty + pretty results. I haven't worked out exact week-by-week themes (that would indeed be Too Much) but I imagine this is something like "Dairy" or "Caramel" or "Vegan," some particular element she just happens to not be strong on. viewers are disappointed by her early elimination

Teleus - Dad contestant. brings in a bunch of weird pans and gadgets he made up himself, does pretty well until it comes to Fiddly Foreign Foods he doesn't know (probably eliminated in French or Patisserie week)

Laela - typically has good flavors and pretty designs but technical knowledge is a bit lacking, so there are usually some flaws in the execution and she's often in the bottom half of technicals

Phresine - Grandma contestant. nails the classics but ultimately isn't creative enough to make it further.

Magus - the "Ian (series 6)" flavor of Dad contestant, often brings in foraged ingredients or eggs from his own chickens or whatnot and revives old recipes/flavor combinations no one else knows about. one week, some of those turn out to just be too weird, leading to his elimination.

Sophos - pretty elaborate decorations and good flavors (on the border of classic and new), but he tends to try a million different embellishments on everything and struggles with timing, occasionally to the detriment of technique.

Kamet - always has really interesting and different flavors and tends to do well in technicals especially, assuming he doesn't get overwhelmed. which is... an assumption (Finalist)

Costis - leans towards classic and indulgent flavors, although sometimes a bit sloppy--the kind of contestant where the judges look at his dishes and say "it's a bit of a mess" and then Paul Hollywood starts laughing because it still tastes delicious (Finalist)

Irene - absolutely stunning visually, queen of the technicals, occasionally gets the "style over substance" warning (Winner)

more details below the cut

I've gone back and forth on whether Eugenides should be in it but ultimately I decided no because I wanted to maintain a pre-show relationship between Laela + Kamet (I thought otherwise at first but then I realized I hadn't left Kamet any longterm friends or family for his finalist video and that's depressing af) and Irene and Sophos which to my knowledge hasn't happened once on the show so far? so having a married couple on top of that seems like it would be a stretch, and also then I think I'd need to make Eugenides the winner on principle and you know what? he can stand to be second fiddle to his wife for a little bit. My alternate backstory for him is that he was actually the winner of MasterChef one year (good with knives), so in the first episode Irene's first little chat to camera is something like "my husband's been bugging me for years to try out and I keep telling him he's got a skewed perspective on cooking competitions, finally I applied just to shut him up... and here we are." Her little video introduction is about how baking is a stress relief from her bigshot job. Her decorations tend to be abstract and gorgeous rather than cutesy.

Kamet, likewise, was nagged into applying by Laela, but she very cleverly framed it as she wanted to apply and wanted him to do it to for moral support. both were confident the other would get in and surprised that they did themselves. This is one of those series where everyone's friendships are immediate and obvious and super adorable (cast of series 10 my beloved...), and in particular these two are holding hands in episode 1. Laela's deep blue robe from TaT sticks in my head for whatever reason so I imagine her making an elaborate blue peacock cake or something one week that wins her star baker. somebody always does a peacock something and it's always impressiev.

Phresine is cool as a cucumber under pressure, always has lovely things to say about everyone else's bakes, and is the go-to last-minute helper because she usually comes in under the time. Irene starts out similar but as the weeks go by she starts to feel the pressure a bit more and cuts it a bit close. Sophos is the worst on timings, and mentions his wife at least once an episode. (I also played with him being single on the show and meeting Helen later through Irene and Eugenides, but this idea is too cute to pass up tbh.) Teleus lives with Relius, a fact that isn't mentioned until a few weeks in when he comments that Relius likes a recipe or gave him an idea for a flavor or something (Relius does not bake himself but will happily sample practice bakes), to the surprised delight of every viewer whose favorite contestant is the oldest gay in any given series (me, me, that person is me).

Costis tends to use a lot of chocolate and, as I said, pretty "classic" flavors--one of those people who makes a full English savory bake at some point. He's usually in the top half of the competition but doesn't get the top until one of the later weeks in the competition, which is a Honey themed week, and he absolutely nails it. The delicate decorations of his honey nut cakes and his use of honeycomb are particularly praised and that's the week he gets star baker. One of those bakers who flirts with elimination the first few weeks but noticeably improves over the course of the show.

My most, like, plot-y ideas are about Kamet (SHOCKER). I imagine he was born in Setra (I usually make Setra a non-autonomous region in my AUs) but arrived in Britain as a child due to [Unspecified Crisis] and ended up with foster dad Jeffa, who was roughly from the same region but not Setra itself; whenever Kamet wanted Setran food as a kid, Jeffa would take him to the library to find recipes and that was what sparked his love of baking. He's well-read on the subject and knows about foods from a lot of different cultures, so he's usually heard of the technical challenges even if he hasn't made or eaten them. He does a lot of fusion flavors, and is ALL ABOUT bread week.

I don't usually make the his-relationship-with-Nahuseresh-is-romantic leap in modern AUs but I think it works for this one because of the nature of the format--Nahuseresh doesn't actually appear on camera but is alluded to once or twice, ends up being Very Displeased that Kamet is doing something for himself, and during the week following Laela's elimination they have the fight that makes Kamet realizes this is actually a terrible relationship and he needs to leave now. He calls Laela to let her know what's up and mentions that, since he'll need to stay in a motel and has presumbly lost his job as a secretary (yeah working for your boyfriend is Bad, he's realized that now), he's going to have to drop out of the show. Laela, despite living in a studio flat without room to host him, immediately thinks "um fuck that" and calls Costis, and within an hour Costis and Aris and a few rugby buddies have moved all of Kamet's things into Costis and Aris's flat, where Costis insists that he'll squeeze into Aris's room (they've shared before, it's fine) and that Kamet gets first dibs on the kitchen for all bake off practices.

None of them actually reveal any of this to the show's producers. Kamet gets a little overwhelmed the following week and nearly walks away from the tent, but Costis jumps in to keep his bake from being ruined, and some soothing words from Irene + the hosts calm him down and he returns to finish. The only mention of the Drama comes in the finale, during the longer video clips they do on each of the contestants. Kamet is deliberately vague about the details of the situation, but Aris shows up in both Costis's and Kamet's videos and references the fact that having TWO flatmates in the bake off is a bit difficult because they only have a standard size kitchen, so he hasn't cooked for himself in a month and has been living off cake and savory breads. one of the hosts talks to Kamet in the tent after that clip is shown and he still won't talk about it in more detail, but says that he wanted to tell people so they could appreciate why Costis hasn't practiced as much the last few weeks (the judges scolded him for winging it a couple of times), and admits that he totally copied some of Costis's techniques for honey week based on watching him at home.

I imagine the finale task is something like an illusion cake--probably with a bunch of additional required elements because the show has been going bonkers with the finale showstoppers in the newer seasons--and Irene wins with a jewelry box containing, among other things, ruby earrings made out of candy. Kamet does a stepwell, and Costis does something architectural (I was thinking castle but something visibly Greek-ish so maybe a temple or a megaron? idk). Irene wins but they're all BFFs and that's obvious, so everyone's delighted for her. The little montage at the end reveals that Irene + Gen are expecting twins, that everybody hangs out all the time, and that Costis + co recently helped Kamet move into his own flat where he's now working on a novel (Immakuk and Ennikar inspired, obvi, leaning heavily on the honey-shared-on-the-road thing and including some recipes that actually work in the narration, albeit still written in an ancient-novel-like-way).

[Obviously not part of the show, but when Kamet mentions that it's time for him to look for his own place, Costis tries to v awkwardly invite him to stay forever and Kamet is like "nope I've got to try this on my own but yes we will go on a date once I've moved out and see how it goes from there."]

[This is so far beyond the scope of the show but also several of them go on to have more baking-related careers and have active social media presences and at one point they're all hanging out and Eugenides pulls out a camera and demands they all produce baking pick-up lines. Teleus refuses and also doesn't believe anyone knows baking pick-up lines off the top of their head or could make them up on the spot. Sophos sort of proves him right by coming up with "you're the apple of my pie," which Eugenides instantly mocks because Sophos's three greatest loves are baking, Helen, and poetry, and that's the best he can do? Helen comes up with "I like my cake the way I like my men--rich, sweet, and bright red," to which Sophos blushes on cue. Irene's is "when I'm with you, I feel like chocolate heated to 50 degrees--I struggle to maintain my temper." Eugenides protests this is more like an anti-pickup line. Irene insists this is the most accurate marriage-related baking pun anyone could ever come up with.

[Laela's is "You and I are like custard--I hope we never split." Kamet's is "You remind me of bread, because I knead you." Costis freezes for a minute and finally comes up with "Fancy a cream horn?" which produces a lot of giggling and makes Kamet slap his arm in such a way that, hen Eugenides posts this video to instagram, fans of the show all go WAIT ARE THEY DATING NOW] [by this point, yes they are] [I didn't even have to google baking pickup lines for this, guys, I legit came up with them on my own, please clap.]

am I obsessed? I might be obsessed

#queen's thief #attolia irene #kamet #costis ormentiedes #sophos #eugenides #teleus #eddis helen #laela #oh dear I bet her tag is virtually unsearchable #sorry laela

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soysauceharry · 5 years ago

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barefoot in the park

the enemies-to-lovers orchestra!au in which you and harry are dueling violinists competing for the same prize, but you might just win something else along the way.

A/N: so happy to have been a part of the pick your poison fic challenge!! this was so fun to write and i can’t wait to share it with you all. big thanks to anna @for-fucks-sake-h, anne @oh-honey-styles, and kate @andwhenshesays for putting this all together! make sure you check out all the other stories!

thank you to tans @gucciwoodnymph, nora @smokeinherperfume, laura @afterstylesmadeit, and ash @you-sure-are-magneato for beta reading this!

[word count: 11k] // language, smut, angst? idk i tried

You stand at the steps of Henry Wood Hall and look up, taking in the old church as it looms over you. It’s gargantuan, like a weirdly rigid fantasy character preparing to wage war over a city of unsuspecting individuals. You wonder how you’d fare in a battle like that: you against this centuries-old monster. Six months ago, you wouldn’t even have considered defeat an option. But, six months ago, the devil incarnate didn’t take up space in its halls.

“Legs not workin’ anymore?”

You don’t bother turning around, knowing fully well that the source of the voice will soon inhabit the space by your ear like a fruit fly on a quest for spoiled apples. True to habit, a warm body bumps your shoulder not two seconds later. Lucky it wasn’t the shoulder holding your violin case, you think, otherwise he’d have a completely different storm coming.

“Thought I’d wished this in a dream,” Harry Styles says, and you can practically feel the smugness dripping from his tongue. “Our star second chair violin, caught in a bout of stage fright. Could it be?”

You hate the patronizing way he says the words. Second chair. As if it’s a dirty thing, to be the effective second-in-command of the entire orchestra. A chair you’ve kept warm for three years; a chair for which you made your fingers bleed, playing to hundreds every night with bandages on your knuckles. And here Harry is, reducing it to something akin to an insult.

Devil incarnate.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” you snap, reflexively taking a step away from him. “I don’t have stage fright. I’ve never had stage fright, and don’t you think for a second—”

“Whoa, hey—relax, Jesus.” He holds his hands up in front of him, violin bag strapped carefully across his back. “Stick up your arse, much?”

“Irritating as fuck, much?”

And this is where the air changes, as Harry’s eyes narrow into slits. The sea-glass green is nearly gone as his lips curl into a less-than-pleasant scowl. “Anger isn’t very becoming of a woman,” he says in a low voice. You scoff, rolling your eyes. He speaks to you like a child, as if he holds any sort of authority with the orchestra, even in the three months he’s been here. “Might want to tone the queen bitch energy before making your case for concertmaster.”

You clench your jaw and fist at the same time. The moon-shaped indentations on your palm will last well into the evening. Nothing about this situation is fair, but you have to remind yourself that your hard work and lack of curly-haired distractions would put you at the top, where you belong.

“We’re late. M’not making excuses for you,” you mumble, already heading up the steps, not bothering to give him a second glance behind you.

-*-

The war between you and Harry had started with a fateful meeting at the beginning of the season.

The principal conductor’s office is a cramped space, each wall lined with bookshelves overflowing with sheet music and theory books. You’d only ever been in there twice before: once during your interview for the London Philharmonic Orchestra, and again to accept the first violin position. Even in those quick visits, you know the office barely has enough space for two people, let alone three.

Yet you’d walked in after being called in after rehearsals one afternoon, shoulders rolling forward to make yourself smaller instinctively. There had been someone else in the chair, and you’d watched as the conductor’s smile grew even larger when he’d introduced the stranger. He had turned in his chair, dimples carved into his cheeks, and you’d returned his warm expression eagerly. It would be nice to have some more young people in the orchestra, you thought. And it didn’t hurt that he was gorgeous as well.

“This is Harry Styles. He’s come to us on loan from Vienna. We’ll be putting you both on trial for Pieter’s chair this season.”

Three sentences, and the illusion had shattered.

The concertmaster’s chair would be opening up at the end of this year’s season, and you’d thought for certain it would be yours. Full stop. No question. Three years into your tenure at the London Philharmonic and you’d bet your violin on it. To be the leader of the orchestra, second-in-command only to the conductor, before the age of thirty… just to have the opportunity ripped away and dangled above you like a teasing treat for a cat. And, adding insult to injury, the hand that dangled the treat above you belonged to the most vile, self-obsessed, narcissistic individual you’d ever met.

A higher power was having too much fun.

And so it had gone for the last six months—you and Harry each taking turns playing as the concertmaster for each repertoire presented to the public. It’s April now, and you only had until next month to prove to the board that you deserved the chair. The battle has been equally matched up until this point,, but the spring showcase is up next and this show tends to draw a more enthusiastic crowd. It isn’t the time to fumble.

Every second you aren’t in rehearsal is spent in one of the practice rooms in the basement of the building. That’s where you are now, on a Friday afternoon, normally a day off but each hour not used for practice is an hour wasted. Going on hour three and you still have yet to successfully play through the first movement with no mistakes.

Mahler is tricky, no doubt, but you feel practically incompetent with how poorly your rehearsals have been going. One more botched measure and you might just snap your bow in half. When you violin screeches with yet another wrong note, you throw your arms down with a huff, muttering a quiet fucking hell to yourself.

It’s the perfect time to take a toilet break, you suppose, lest you start talking to yourself. After resting your violin and bow back in the case, you grab your water bottle and head out of the practice room toward the toilets down the hall.

“Oi, second chair!”

You choose to ignore the nickname, willing it to be a figment of your imagination, and continue down the hall. Harry says your name, louder this time, and you keep walking toward the toilet determinedly. Just a few more steps—no, his footsteps are getting faster—almost there, just—

“Mahler giving you some trouble, is he?”

That makes you stop. You turn, already suspicious of what this encounter could entail. “Sorry?”

“I heard you.” He nods his head back toward your rehearsal room. “I’ve been next door. The screeching was distracting me.” When you start walking back toward the toilets, he falls into step beside you. Breathe, you coach yourself. “How long have you been at it, then?”

“Few hours,” you mutter. “But I’m almost done. Just tweaking a few things.”

“You tellin’ me that or are you trying to convince yourself?” When you look at him in offense, he simply shrugs. “What? I told you I heard you.”

You stop in your tracks then, turning to face him with your hands on your hips. His lips twitch with a hint of a smirk and he mirrors your position. A door opens and closes down the hall, and the muffled sounds of other musicians practicing echoes around you.

“Are you always this much of a nuisance?”

“Can’t a friend check on another friend when they’re having a tough time?”

The superiority practically oozes from his frame. “We’re not friends,” you say bluntly.

“Acquaintances, then.”

“Coworkers.”

He gives you an unimpressed look. “Come on, love,” he jokes, knocking his elbow against yours. He looks far too satisfied with himself. You scowl, completely ready to move on from this conversation. “Sure you don’t want any feedback? You know, I could actually—”

“I’m really not in the mood, Harry,” you sigh, stepping out of his space. “Spare me this one afternoon from your ridicule, please.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say!”

You scoff at the affronted tone of his voice. Facing him again, you look him dead in the eye. He looks on expectantly, making you roll your eyes. “I’m sure it was going to start with you offering to swoop in and be the man of the hour. Just drop it, okay?”

He’s silent for a moment, so you take the opportunity to shoot him a saccharine smile and turn away again. You only make it a few steps.

“Wait.” He grabs onto your arm, keeping you in place. It’s a full second before you whip around, shrugging his touch away. He doesn’t react outwardly, but there’s a certain chippiness in the air around you. “For the record, I would do better with the Mahler and we both know it.” A pause, as if he’s waiting for a reaction. You don’t give him the satisfaction of seeing your jaw clench. “But I’m not actually here to gloat.”

“Shocker,” you mutter.

“I have a proposition for you.”

You close your eyes to center yourself. “No, I will not reorganize your sheet music for you. You’re a grown man, Harry.”

“Very funny.” He crosses his arms, making himself look bigger. It’s unnerving. You want to take a step back, but you’re determined to hold your ground. “This isn’t even me asking for something. I’d be doing you a favor.”

“What kind of bloody favor could you possibly do for me?”

“I want to help you with the Mahler.”

You stare at him, unblinking. “Are you havin’ me on?”

“Swear on my mum.” He puts his hand over his heart for effect. “I know I can make you better. Indulge me.”

A thousand different emotions flood through you at once. Bewilderment, annoyance, and, most of all, anger. Does he really think you’re that inept, knowing fully well you’re the youngest person in the orchestra? And you’re second chair? And you’re clearly a better violinist than he is?

“How dare you?” Anger seems to be the emotion you’ve decided on. “You think I’d stoop that low? Let you sabotage me and take the chair for yourself? D’you really think I’m that much of an idiot?”

“Will you at least hear me out?”

He grabs for your arm again, but you’re quick to step out of his reach. “I bloody will not,” you hiss, unable to keep the rage from your trembling voice. “Go bother someone else with your stupid ideas. I don’t have time for this.”

Harry’s face shifts into a similar one of irritation. “Why do you have to be so stubborn all the time? I’m offering to help you. I know this symphony like the back of my hand, and I know how to play it well.”

“Then let me crash and burn! Isn’t that what you want?” You step up to him and poke his chest as you say between gritted teeth, “I would sooner snap my violin in half then accept help from you. Understood?”

He leans down, encroaching on your space even further. The proximity brings heat—to your face, to your chest. This heat feels different, and maybe it’s because you can see a sheen of sweat on his forehead and the steady rise and fall of his chest, labored slightly with the weight of the argument. Suddenly, your words feel too harsh. You’ve taken his olive branched and burned it while it was still in his outstretched hand.

“I don’t know what you’ve got goin’ on up in there,” he says calmly, much to your surprise. He reaches up and taps on your temple, and you can’t do anything but stay stock still. “But it might be worth working out if you want to keep your sanity.”

“I didn’t ask for your advice,” you reply shortly.

“Unsolicited advice is my specialty just for you, isn’t it?” His lips quirk upward. You track the movement. “Think about it. Give me an answer later.”

He retreats, a metaphorical white flag flying in the space left. You’re left to wonder what the mysterious emotion is dancing behind his eyes as he leaves his face blank, unreadable. It reminds you of his face while he plays, in the few instances where you’ve caught him during rehearsal. Razor-sharp, hyper-focused. Like he has a goal in sight, and he’ll do anything to achieve it.

Your mouth goes a bit dry at the thought of being that goal.

-*-

The pub is crowded, but your table is blissfully empty.

“I just knew I was bound to botch the entire recapitulation!” Mei’s voice is a bit shrill as she yells, trying to tell her story over the incessant buzzing inside the pub. Your best friend’s blue hair shakes with the intensity of her words, and you can’t help but squint as you take a sip of your drink, nodding as she continues. “It isn’t fair that I’m basically carrying the entire section! Since when is brass just one person?”

“It isn’t.”

“It isn’t!” she emphasizes, taking a long pull from her pint. “I’ll throw an entire fit, tomorrow, just watch. They can’t just…”

You look up when she trails off, watching her gaze fall to something behind you. You turn, craning your neck to see over the crowd as the door opens and more people come spilling into the pub. “Oh!” Mei exclaims. “There’s George. M’gonna tell him what happened.”

George, another member of the horns, is trailed by a few of the other younger players of the orchestra. A pub night out isn’t uncommon, and they’ve been happening more and more often since the rehearsals have become more grueling. They all gather to toast to a free evening with sore fingers and stiff necks, but at least the company is decent.

For the most part, you think, as none other than Harry walks in behind the group that’s headed straight for the bar. It seems like there are enough people around to interest him, mercifully sparing you from any interaction. Thankfully so, because you’re still reeling from the conversation earlier in the afternoon.

An offer of help. Insanity, no other explanation. You couldn’t begin to determine what had come over him, but there couldn’t have been any way he’d be offering that purely out of the good of his heart. You know Harry well enough—

Well. Do you know Harry well enough? Six months is a long time… but have you actually ascertained anything beyond the parts you’ve chosen to cling to?

Beyond his irritatingly conceited nature, what lies beneath? A pretty face, no doubt—you might hate the man, but you aren’t blind. Once upon a time (for the few seconds before he’d opened his mouth in that fateful meeting) you were even drawn to him as any moth would be drawn to a luminescent, scintillating flame.

You watch him now, as he rears his head back in a laugh across the bar. In place of criticism and scrutiny, you apply a lens of contemplation, perhaps aided by the alcohol buzzing in your system. It makes everything feel loose, including your stream of consciousness. Now, instead of inherent and unbothered annoyance, he exists as an objective person of interest.

And maybe you can see it now—what everyone else sees.

There are hard lines and there are soft curves. The angled cut of his jaw paired with the delicate slope of his cheekbones. Everything comes together in symmetric harmony. You blink a few times, slowly drinking him in through the neon-tinged lighting of the pub. His sweater and trousers are molded perfectly to his body, the fabric shifting as he gestures in response to someone. As a musician, you have a profound appreciation for all forms of art. Harry’s physical appearance seems to qualify.

When Mei returns, you’re still observing Harry from a distance, but this time your brows have pulled in, mouth set in a frown. “Don’t do that, you’ll get wrinkles.”

She swats at your shoulder, making you flinch as the rest of the bar comes back into focus. “Ow, fuck off,” you grunt, straightening up in your chair. “D’you tell George, then?”

“Mmhm.” Mei nods once. “He agrees with me. As he should.”

“Good lad.”

The two of you lapse into silence. Mei fidgets, as if she wants to say something but won’t out of courtesy to you. It’s an easy friendship, often with many things left unsaid simply because you two can pick up on each other’s mood pretty easily. So, with a barely concealed sigh, you turn to her and say, “What else did George say?”

A look of relief passes over Mei’s face. “Well, not George. Harry.”

“Ah.” You press your lips together in a wry smile. “Chatting shit as usual?”

“Not really, actually. Said something about wanting to talk to you, but,” she pauses with a shrug, “I said you weren’t in the mood.”

No doubt a continuation of the conversation from earlier that day. You’d rather listen to an orchestra of three year-olds playing Symphonie Fantastique than have Harry Styles psychoanalyze you once again. “If he gets within five feet of me, I’ll scream bloody murder,” you mutter, pushing back from the table. “I’m getting another drink.”

Wary of eyes following you, you head to the bar and plop down onto an empty stool. The bartender starts on your drink and soon enough, a fresh cider is on a delicate paper coaster right below your nose.

Two drinks in and you’re overthinking your rehearsal to the point of it being painful. Your double stops had been shrill, your arpeggios sloppy, and you could still feel the frustration when you’d completely dropped the solo in the second movement. You can’t remember the last time you’d had a practice session this bad. Chalking it up to the difficulty of the symphony isn’t a good enough excuse.

Your mind veers left toward a darker corner, one that speaks in sinister whispers. It starts to tell you that it’s the pressure that’s making you crack, making sure to win the battle between you and the concertmaster’s chair. Are you even worthy of sitting in such an esteemed position? It’s everything you’ve ever wanted… but do you even deserve it?

Swallowing thickly, you blink and refocus on the drink in front of you. You down the rest of it and immediately flag the bartender down to order a third.

“I’ll have what she’s having.”

You can feel Harry’s eyes on your face, but you keep your gaze trained astutely forward. The heat on your cheeks slowly rises. Chewing on the inside of your cheek to keep yourself from saying anything, you wait until your drinks have arrived and immediately bring yours to your lips to take a deep sip.

“Serious business tonight,” Harry comments. “No cheers for me, then?” You turn to look at him, watching as he takes a sip of his own drink. He instantly makes a face. “God, I hate cider.”

“Good.” You turn back and lift your bottle for another sip. “You can leave now.”

“But I came to have a chat,” he counters, stepping a bit closer. “C’mon. Entertain me.”

You scoff into your drink, not fooled by the teasing connotation to his words. “Think we chatted enough earlier today, hm?”

“Your stubbornness is honestly admirable,” he notes with an air of admiration. You offer a tight-lipped grin without much heat. He kicks your stool with the toe of his Vans rhythmically, just enough to bring your awareness away from your drink. “Have you given any thought to my offer?”

“Let’s see.” You face him and tap your chin, pretending to think. “Yep. Still not happening.”

“Come on, you can’t do that,” he groans, trapping your legs between his before you can spin back to face the bar. “Give me one good reason why you won’t take me up on this.”

“It makes absolutely no sense!”

“Since when does camaraderie not make sense?”

“Since we’re literally competing for the same thing,” you deadpan. Harry’s biting back a smirk—it’s a shocking contrast to the way you two had nearly bitten each other’s heads off earlier. The alcohol seems to have lightened things up a bit, which makes you say your next words without much thought. “Think about it. We hate each other. Everyone knows we hate each other—”

“—I never said I hated you.”

And that. That makes you rear back. “But… but you do,” you state slowly, though you don’t sound convinced. “We do, don’t we?”

“Dunno. Do we?” He shrugs, and you suddenly feel a bit unhinged with the way this seemingly isn’t a big deal for him. “Hating you wouldn’t be my first choice. Was quite lookin’ forward to getting to you know, actually.”

“Okay, well, I’m not exactly fond of you.” Harry looks amused, but he lets you carry on. “Don’t you think it would look weird that we suddenly became best mates? Changes like that don’t happen overnight.”

“I’m not asking to be your mate. I just thought you could use some help.”

“But why would you want to help me?”

You watch as Harry’s face morphs into something resembling a smirk. You don’t like it. After being subject to nothing but grimaces and frowns, you suddenly realize you don't know what Harry looks like when he isn’t irritated with you. His eyes track yours through droopy, booze-heavy lids. The curl of his lips is a novelty you aren’t quite sure how to process. And his body shifts closer, infringing upon a carefully constructed bubble. He’ll pop it, you think, but you can’t find it within yourself to mind.

“I’ve got to make sure you’re a worthy opponent, don’t I?” he muses. “Can’t take the concertmaster offer in good conscience if I felt like I didn’t work for it.”

“So you think they’d hand it to you on a silver platter if you asked right now?”

“Darling,” Harry drawls, and you feel yourself stiffen from the unfamiliarity. “I know they would. It’ll be mine, inevitably, but I at least want to see you put up a good fight.”

You can feel your jaw tick with all the tension in your body. “You don’t know what I’m capable of.”

“Care to show me?”

Your eyes widen. For a moment, neither of you says anything, but you can hear the slight challenge in Harry’s voice. It wouldn’t be a normal conversation if you two weren’t trying to one-up each other in some way. You lower your gaze and take a big gulp of your drink, wincing slightly as Harry looks on. Then, his smile widens, and you already know you’re about to hate what comes out of his mouth next.

“Did you know the woodwinds had a bet goin’ that we’d sleep with each other before the Christmas showcase?”

“They what?!” you splutter incredulously. “What the fuck?”

He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “S’just what Mei told me. I personally thought it would happen after Don Juan—all that passion, innit?”

You realize that Harry is insinuating he's thought about you two sleeping together. Your fingernails dig into your thigh. “Please stop talking. I will pay you to stop talking.”

“What?” Harry questions through a laugh, nudging your leg with his foot once more. “Is the concept that horrifying to you? I take offense.”

“As you should!” you huff, already feeling too drunk for this conversation. In a flourish, you slap your hands down onto the bar top and take a deep, long breath. The room feels like it’s one somersault away from throwing you against the wall. “Why would they bet on us?” you grumble, fuming in a way you’d never been before. “Absolutely ridiculous.”

“Is it that ridiculous though?”

There’s a pause as you glance over at him. Harry’s eyes flit across your face as he slowly breaks out into an impish grin. You narrow your eyes, staring daggers as his teeth dig into his lip. “Beg your pardon?”

“You haven’t thought about…” He gestures between the two of you, referencing exactly what the woodwinds had apparently expected to happen nearly four months ago. “...at all?”

Your ears start to burn. Cursing your subconscious has no impact on the fact that you have, unfortunately, woken up from far too many dreams involving a certain violinist’s fingers. But you can’t help it—you stare at them every day, trying to ensure that your own fingers can replicate the complicated patterns written in his music. So sue you if you dream about those fingers being put to use elsewhere.

“Of course I haven’t!” you squawk. “Why would I?”

The leering gaze you receive in response makes you realize Harry doesn’t believe you for a second. You turn back to face the bar and fiddle with the tiny black straw in your drink, ignoring the way the right side of your body heats up as he draws closer. “I wouldn’t blame you if you did,” he murmurs, voice almost indiscernible over the din of the pub. His chest brushes your shoulder; you go rigid. “Would you blame me?”

“Easily,” you counter, though there isn’t much heat in your voice. “It’s never even crossed my mind.”

The bold-faced lie sits in the air between you. Now that you’ve started thinking about it, you can’t stop, like you’ve finally lost control of the boulder you’d been pushing up this hill of antagonism and discord. Now, in the bleak light of the pub, Harry’s lips look fuller and shinier and far more delectable than you’d ever imagined.

You can tell he knows you’re lying. The conviction in your voice is gone, replaced with something less unnerved. Still, he doesn’t say anything as he rests an arm on the bar, caging you in even further. “I wish I couldn’t read you like a book,” he says. “Then maybe I’d walk away and fully stop bothering you.”

You turn to glance at him through your lashes, noses just inches apart. Observing him, you notice how he’s leaning forward, encroaching on your space, practically inhaling the same air as you. “What, d’you want me to beg?” you ask. “Want me on my knees?”

“Wouldn’t be opposed.”

It’s impossible to ignore the heat building in your belly. You need to get out of there now. You hold his gaze for a few more seconds, unblinking. Then, your mouth twists into a grimace. “Fuck off,” you grunt, pushing away from the bar. “I’m going to the toilet. Don’t follow me.”

In the time it takes you to get to the back hallway where the toilets are, you manage to calm down, but only slightly. Harry’s ability to crawl underneath your skin is driving you to the brink of insanity. And now, paired with this weirdly unsettling feeling of wanting to throw yourself at him, you aren’t quite sure how to handle anything, really.

The toilets are blessedly empty, so you take your time in washing your hands. Your reflection looks a little wild, eyes slightly unfocused as your mind replays your conversation over and over again. At surface level, the question was whether or not you’d accept Harry’s help on the Mahler—what that would entail, you had no idea. But there’s a different question lingering underneath, now that this new admission of your (reciprocated?) assumption that you’d fall into bed with him some way or another.

Would you let it happen?

Fate was playing a sick game with you. Your sworn mortal enemy, the very person trying to derail your entire career and everything you’d ever worked for, was being presented to you like a steak on a platter. All yours for the taking. You just had to give in, just once.

Would that be so bad?

You scowl at your reflection. Of course it would.

Pulling open the door, you fully intend to walk straight past the bar and grab your purse from Mei’s table so you can catch the Underground before the last trains leave for the night. But you bump into a body—a hard, solid chest underneath a mohair sweater—and let out an indignant gasp. You’re backed into the bathroom once more and soon enough, Harry’s pressing you against the door as it clangs shut.

For a moment, there isn’t a single sound other than your breathing. Your noses barely brush, and your gaze is focused on his slightly parted lips as he breathes shallowly.

“What do you want?” he whispers throatily. “Tell me, and I’ll give it to you.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “You’re drunk.”

“M’not,” he counters instantly, pressing even closer to you. His hands are on your hips, large paws that take up way too much space on your skin. “Tell me, love.”

“If you know me so well, why don’t you tell me?”

“I need you to say it.”

“Harry,” you say in exasperation. “This isn’t—this isn’t us. We both know that.”

“Why can’t it be?”

There’s a tingling in your abdomen from his proximity that’s steadily getting stronger the longer you stay pressed up against him. He takes the momentary silence as an opportunity to slot one leg in between both of yours. The heat makes your gasp, and you knock your head back. Harry follows.

“Why can’t it be us?” he repeats, voice low. “Just for tonight? Just once?”

He’s daring you to make a move, to take that final step and plunge into the unknown. Somehow, you know that it’ll be like falling into a bottomless abyss. His eyes look too bright, lips pouty and bitten, and you want nothing more than to be engulfed in the brazen touch dancing across your back. Just once.

Imperceptibly, you nod. Harry’s face shifts into something darker.

It’s settled, then.

“Meet me outside. My flat’s just a walk.”

As quickly as he’d entered, he disappears again. He leaves a whirlwind behind him, and you’re left physically gasping at the sudden emptiness in front of you. His body had burned against yours. You wonder how it’ll feel when clothes are no longer a barrier.

Dashing to the mirror, you turn on the faucet again with shaking hands and wet a tissue to wipe at your neck. It doesn’t do much to cool you down, but you don’t know how else to tame the burning sensation spreading rampantly across your skin. You almost want to slap yourself to get rid of the wild look in your eyes. “Get it together,” you tell yourself through gritted teeth.

The pub has livened up since you left for the toilets. Mei is still at your table, chatting animatedly with George and some of the other horns. When you approach, she sees you and looks at you curiously. “Where have you been, babe?” she asks. “You okay?”

“Yeah, fine.” You grab your purse and make hasty eye contact with everyone at the table. “Feeling a bit tired, is all. Think I’ll head out before the last train leaves.”

“You sure?”

“Positive. See you tomorrow?” You don’t bother waiting for an answer as you kiss her cheek in a farewell and wave at the rest of the group. With your bag in tow and your cardigan pulled tightly around you, you dodge other patrons until you finally make it outside. The air is chillier than before, making goosebumps arise almost instantly.

No one is outside. The outside seating is completely empty, and not a single person is in sight. All you can see are the harsh lights of a Tesco’s across the street. Your heart plummets. He’d said five minutes, and here you were, like a complete imbecile who’d fallen for his empty promises—

“Hey.”

You whip around to your left. Harry’s jogging toward you with his phone in his hand, cheeks ruddy from the cold air. “Sorry, was just making a call.”

“S’fine,” you reply, though your voice wavers. You feel a bit off-kilter, the entire situation seemingly taking place in an alternate universe. But then Harry grabs at your arm until you let go of your cardigan, and you watch as he interlaces your fingers. He squeezes your hand once, eliciting a soft ‘oh’ from your lips.

“This okay?”

Your eyes flick from your joined hands to his face. He looks apprehensive, waiting on your reaction. It shouldn’t feel as natural and comfortable as it does, but maybe this is what it feels like when two musicians hold hands. Like a symphony being written by two strangers, just for one night.

“Yeah,” you tell him, squeezing back. “Let’s go, then.”

-*-

“Bloody fuckin’—”

You cut yourself off with another groan when your violin shrieks with the wrong note. Again.

Thirty minutes into your session and nothing seems to be going accordingly. Despondence rushes over you at the sight of all your music scattered about the room, notes waiting to be brought to life, but your brain is hindering you from doing so. It’s still left to debate whether or not you woke up in the right state of mind this morning, especially after last night—

Stop thinking about last night.

In an attempt to center yourself, you close your eyes and breathe in through your nose, exhaling a loud sigh through pursed lips. Water under the bridge. Just once, you remind yourself, and nothing more. You refuse to acknowledge the dam of feelings being held back by a measly wall of twigs; nothing else matters except the performance next weekend.

Your renewed sense of self might be a ruse, but you’re going to roll with it anyway.

Steeling yourself, you raise your instrument back up and set your chin on the rest. The measures of Mahler’s Resurrection Symphony dance in front of your eyes. The strings of your violin can snap them back into place; you just have to start playing—

Three quick raps on the door break you from your focus.

“Are you—” You cut yourself with a pained groan, jaw clenching tight. What had you done to have the most ungodly twenty-four hours. “Who is it?”

“Open up.”

You blanch. The first thing that comes out of your mouth is—

“N-no.”

There’s a pause. “Are you jokin’? Open the bloody door!”

“Ugh, just—hold on.”

Setting your violin down gently in your case, you stand and toe over to the door while trying to avoid your sheet music strewn across the floor. The door swings open and standing there is Harry, disheveled hair and all, shoulders and torso and legs tucked into a sweater and trouser ensemble that involuntarily makes you tense. He’s leaning against the frame, forearm resting above his head with his other hand on his hip. He looks every bit of something out of a dream, but all you can do is scowl.

“What do you want?”

“I’m here to help you. Like we agreed.”

“I don’t actually recall agreeing to anything.” You look at him pointedly, crossing your arms. He smirks, clearly amused. “Don’t you have a session with Pieter, anyway?”

“He cancelled. Good thing, too, since I woke up late.”

It takes everything in you not to smack him. You both had woken up late, your clothes scattered across his bedroom like a hurricane had torn through. You probably wouldn’t have woken up until much later if Mei hadn’t called you when she did.

“Anyway,” he carries on. “I figured you’d be here. I’m tired of rehearsing my shit, so let me help you.”

“Your shit?” you question. “You got the Dvorak already?”

He grins, raising his eyebrows a few times. “Jealous?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

“Fuck off.”

“You wound me, baby,” he says with a faux-pained expression on his face as he clutches at his heart. “C’mon, let me in.”

Before you can object, he brushes past you and into your rehearsal room. The rooms are small, not designed to hold more than three people at a time. It’s equipped with a chair, a music stand, and a mirror, and right now Harry takes up too much space. And he’s standing on your sheet music.

You close your eyes and breathe.

“So, how are we doing?” He claps his hands once, rubbing his palms together eagerly. “Kind of wish I’d gotten this one, not gonna lie. Mahler’s such a legend.”

“Well, it’s mine. So.” You’re indignant, and you’re acting like a little bit of a brat, but you can’t help it. He’s in your space and it’s throwing you for a loop. Everything is just… off-kilter. “Are you seriously going to stay?”

Instead of responding, he picks up your violin from its case—and suddenly, you’re hyperfocused on the way he’s handling your instrument, your baby. But he’s a musician, so he knows the importance of an artist’s tool, so he moves with nothing but grace as he maneuvers it to rest under his chin, bow already poised in his other hand.

“What are you—”

The opening notes of the Resurrection Symphony ring out smoothly, not a single grating note audible. Harry plays the measures effortlessly, not even looking at the sheet music as his eyes drift closed, brows pulling inward in concentration. He looks everything like the poised and professional yet passionate and emotive musician you see during rehearsals. It looks even more powerful up close.

He doesn’t play more than twenty seconds of the symphony, but by the time he rests, you’re fully sure you’re drooling a bit. It’s rendered you speechless. All your quips have flown out of your head, replaced with a buzzing in between your ears that seems to get louder as each second passes.

Somehow, Harry can sense it. “Are you alright?”

Your mouth snaps shut. “I’m fine.”

You stare at each other for a moment. Harry’s eyes flick to your lips in a split-second, so quickly that you almost miss the motion. Last night’s memories swirl in front of you. Everything’s been exacerbated by him playing in front of you just now, with his strong arms commanding the instrument like he’d ruled over you in the bedroom. You could easily tell him that, but what would that reveal? That you probably enjoyed yourself too much? That you want it to happen again? That maybe… maybe you don’t hate him as much as you thought, but you don’t know how else to act?

“Is this about last night?”

Your nostrils flare. “We’re not talking about last night.”

Harry stays put, not saying anything. He watches you carefully as you fidget under his gaze. Then, he sets your instrument back down and steps forward.

Everything happens very quickly.

He takes your face in his hands, leaning down and fitting his mouth squarely over yours. You inhale sharply, but the familiar, warm feeling of his hands on your skin makes you melt into his embrace. You clutch his sweater in both hands as he tilts your head to the side and licks into your mouth. It’s hot—it’s too much, but not enough.

Just as you roll onto your toes to deepen the kiss even more, however, he pulls away. Both of you are panting, and an inextricable feeling of bewilderment passes over you. Harry doesn’t look too far off, blinking quickly as if a spell had come over him.

He clears his throat. “Now we’re not talking about last night.”

Stupefied, you watch as he turns and grabs your bow and violin. All you can do is stare, hands staying limp by your sides. “C’mon then,” he urges, pushing the instrument toward you. “Don’t have all day.”

“But you—”

“Not talking about it.”

He won’t budge. You scoff and take the violin from him, stalking over to the music stand and adjusting your sheets. “Bloody nuisance,” you mutter to yourself. It’s hard to ignore him while he’s staring at you like a predator, but you try your best anyway. “Should I just start from the beginning?”

“Wait, wait, wait,” he interrupts, stopping you. “What kind of posture is that?”

A quick glance in the mirror shows a horrendous arch of your shoulders. “Leave me alone. I’m exhausted, all thanks to you,” you grumble. Still, you roll your shoulders a few times, tilting your neck one way and then the other to loosen up a bit. You raise your violin back up and settle your chin on the rest, arms poised to begin playing. “Better?”

“Just—here. Let me…”

Stepping closer, he places a hand along your spine. You tense up, but then his fingers dig into your skin and you remember just how much pressure those fingers could apply in a different circumstance. His touch dances familiarly, and if you close your eyes you might be able to transport yourself to last night, in a moment so shockingly similar that your eyes drift close for a split second. You can picture it now, reliving the way his hand flits lower along the column of your spine, lower and lower—

“Stand up straight for me,” he murmurs, pushing his hand into you so your back loses its roundness. Your gaze meets his in the mirror, and he nods. “Good girl.”

Is it a daydream or a nightmare that you’re reminded of? Your time spent together appears in camera flashes, bright and blinding and far too disorienting. A nightmare would be preferred; that way, you could immediately chalk it up to your subconscious bringing out your most suppressed desires for one night and one night only. But now, this touch has you thinking much differently. In the realm of a daydream, you find yourself sinking into it, not shying away.

“I thought we weren’t talking about last night.”

Harry’s fingers stay on your shoulder. His voice is surprisingly steady when he speaks. “We don’t have to talk.”

You close your eyes, feel his lips on your neck, and the symphony starts again.

-*-

There’s a photograph on the wall that looks like it has three people in it. You know one of them has to be Harry, but you can’t make out the other two people in the frame. It’s in your line of sight, directly across the room, and you can’t help but let your eyes linger on it for a split second when they flit open in the darkness.

Then, your vision goes blurry again.

“Oh, fuck—Harry!”

Nails digging into his scalp, you snap your eyes shut instinctively as he licks a broad stripe up your slit, throwing your head back as a moan pushes out of your lips. His hands burn where they’re pressed against your torso, holding you down against the mattress. You can feel his sheets sticking to your clammy skin, shoulders digging into the mattress, feet nudging against his lower back.

“Good girl,” he mumbles, lips grazing your center. “You like that, hm?”

“Yeah,” you babble nonsensically as his tongue prods at your entrance, making your hips buck against his mouth. “Yeah, god, so good—”

“Stay still.” It’s an order, not a suggestion. “Taste so good, baby. Knew you’d be a feast.”

He laps at your wetness starvingly, unrelenting as each swipe of his tongue sends you careening toward a release you haven’t felt in ages. Gone are the calculated roles of enemies, adversaries clashing in battle for the same prize. The cloak of nighttime veils your true selves in this moment: unabashed and rough, finally giving into the desire that’s been dangled like a treat between you. Harry whispers your name into your core before tracing the letters of his own along your folds, and you close your eyes and fall.

-*-

It continues.

The Mahler goes swimmingly. You receive a standing ovation and a proud look from the conductor. The orchestra is also clapping respectfully, but Harry nudges his arm against yours in silent acknowledgment. You feel warm for the rest of the evening.

Now, the next morning, waking up in Harry’s bed, you ponder what that warmth could mean.

The blinds are open so the sun can filter into the room, casting its rays across the hardwood floor. Harry’s place is simple, shared with two others but usually empty since they travel. His room is an assortment of full bookshelves, sheets of music, and various articles of clothing. You see the sweater from the first night you slept together still in the same spot on the floor by the door.

In the morning light, the photo on the wall reveals Harry and two women of striking resemblance. His smile is bright, almost blinding. Seeing it immortalized on the wall makes the pulsing warmth in your chest grow stronger.

To your left is the real thing, still asleep. His lips are pouty with his face squished against the mattress. His hair is longer in the photograph, but now it seems much curlier. It’s flopped over his head as he sleeps, obscuring most of his forehead and eyes.

Rolling over to face him fully, you study him as he sleeps. Last night, it had been even easier to agree to go back to his after the post-concert swanky get-together that donors to the LPO always host. You’d changed out of your concert clothes and into something more formal; the dress is lying in a heap on the bedroom floor, right next to Harry’s suit.

You shouldn’t be there. Simple as. It was only meant to be once, but now it’s happened three times and you don’t know when you stopped thinking of Harry as someone to beat and started thinking of him as someone to claim. It’s unnatural, the way your dynamic has shifted. No longer are you bickering at rehearsals, the cheap shots and low blows swapped out for careful critiques and playful ribbing. He flirts with you in front of everyone, for Christ’s sake. This shouldn’t be happening.

But the warmth in your chest can’t be ignored, and the longer you stay in his bed, the stronger it grows. You reach a finger out to trace Harry’s arm that’s up by his face. His skin glows in the morning light.

“Hey.”

You look up, still letting your fingertips drift across his arm. He’s got one eye cracked open, watching you through a film of sleepiness. “Morning,” you reply.

“Tickles.”

Your cheek twitches in a smile. “Deal with it.”

He inhales sharply, moving his arm to yawn into his closed fist before flipping onto his side. The arm you were tracing winds around your waist to pull you closer, and you let yourself be drawn into his chest as he rolls over you, burying his head in your neck. “You were amazin’ last night,” he mumbles, the vibrations of his voice playing across you skin. “Bloody perfect.”

“Which part?”

He chuckles and pulls you against him tighter. “Was mostly talkin’ about the Mahler, but that thing you did with your mouth was pretty great, too.”

Fingers running through his hair, you reply, “Maybe I should’ve played the trumpet instead.”

You receive a pinch to your hip in reply. Now that you’re both fully awake, you can feel his length against your thigh as he shifts to drop more of his weight onto you. Your feet drag along the downy hairs on his calves. He shudders and playfully bites at the juncture of your head and neck.

“What time ’sit?”

The clock on his table reads 8:34. “Early enough,” you reply. “Rehearsal’s at half-ten.”

He hums, trading teeth for lips as he sponges delicate kisses up the column of your throat. Your eyes drift closed, soft breaths hitting your cheek when he whispers, “Shall we go again?”

As he speaks, his cock gives a little twitch against your thigh. “Eager,” you comment through a light laugh. Harry pulls back just enough to knock his forehead against yours. His elbows dig into the mattress on either side of your head so you’re fully caged in between his arms. There are worse places to be. As close as he is, you can still make out the curve of his lips and the slight indentation of his dimple.

“Can you blame me?”

You lean up onto your elbows and slot your lips against his, letting your tongue drag against his for a brief, drowsy moment. He kisses you back unhurriedly, a soft, audible sigh leaving his lips. When you separate, he lets his lips catch the tip of your nose in the briefest peck. Through an involuntary smile, you say, “Go on, then. Haven’t got all day.”

Like an overly excited puppy, Harry springs into action. Soon enough, he’s tearing another condom wrapper open and sliding it on before resuming his position over you. “Wait,” you tell him before he can line himself up. “Let me flip over—”

“—No.” He stops you with a hand on your shoulder. “Stay there. Want it like this.”

Your mouth dries. You’ve never done it like this—each time has been facing away from him, almost punishing yourself in a way so you can’t look at his face when he makes you reach your peak. It’s been the only way to still keep him at arm’s length even while you’re connected in the most intimate way possible.

But you nod, and everything changes.

Harry keeps all of his weight on you with his face tucked back into your neck as he thrusts his cock in, both of your groans echoing through the room. It feels like relief to have him inside you again, to know that these feelings are real and they come alive any time he touches you. You’ve never had the luxury of slow, sleepy morning sex with someone before. It’s a first—and it’s with Harry. Something shifts inside you, and the warmth blisters into a fiery blaze. But it also reaffirms the worst possible thought—you don’t hate Harry. Not even close.

-*-

Two weeks later, you’re wrapping up the last rehearsal of the season. Excitement is in the air at the thought of concluding the LPO’s incredible run with Dvorak’s violin concerto, but you feel an extra ounce of tension at the thought of the selection for concertmaster being so soon.

Soon, as in, tomorrow.

Since November, you’ve been waiting for this moment. A month ago, you couldn’t wait to taste the sweet satisfaction when you’d finally be awarded the position that you’ve been working toward for your entire life.

Things are a bit different now.

Now, all you can think about is how Harry would react if you got it. Or, how you would react if Harry got it. You’ve been neck-and-neck in this race for the entire season, but you know the potential lead given to you by the Mahler could easily be destroyed and swept away by Harry’s performance tomorrow evening. The concerto sounds like it was written specifically for him. You don’t stand a chance.

And maybe that’s your own fault. Maybe, this whole thing with Harry threw you off your game. Could that have been on purpose? You don’t want to think ill of Harry, especially after seeing these brand new facets of him over the last few weeks. He’s a completely different person, like the cold exterior was just a ploy to fuel both your drives toward success. And now that the prize is just within reach, the ruse is gone, and he’s given himself to you in his truest form.

The chair, or Harry. Which one is the prize?

As everyone starts packing up, you linger with your bow and violin still perched on your thigh, staring absentmindedly at your music. The chatter increases in volume, but you can still hear Harry talking to George and the other horns. Your eyes flick to his form across the room—as if he can sense it, he turns and looks over his shoulder at you as he speaks.

Your gazes meet. For a split second, neither one of you acknowledges the other. Then, Harry’s smile grows, and he shoots a wink your way.

Perhaps he is the prize, and you’ve already won.

-*-

“Mei, I have a problem.”

Mei pauses with her nail polish brush in the air. “That’s a first.”

“Shut up, I’m being serious,” you grunt, flopping over on the couch dramatically. Mei’s apartment serves as the perfect backdrop to unwind before the performance tomorrow evening. “Listen. This is important.”

She makes a show of putting the nail polish brush back in the bottle before shifting on the armchair opposite the couch to face you. “Right, then. Go on.”

Unnerved under Mei’s expectant gaze, you chew on the inside of your cheek for a few seconds. Verbalizing everything will make it seem so much more tangible, but it needs to be done. Going into tomorrow’s performance with a clear mind is the priority.

“I’ve been seeing someone,” you say, all bravado gone from your voice. “Well—not really seeing. We’ve been shagging.”

Mei’s mouth is a perfect circle. For a split second, she’s frozen. Then she jumps as if she’s been shocked. “Oh, carry on!” she exclaims, immediately grabbing a pillow to clutch tightly to her chest. “This is the first time you’re telling me about someone you’re shagging! Is it someone we know?”

Embarrassment floods through you as you nod, and Mei claps with delight. It would be so much easier to keep quiet about this, but you can trust Mei to give you the advice you need all while she takes the piss. “I’m not telling you who it is, though,” you say firmly. “I just need your advice.”

“But I need to know who it is so I can actually give you proper advice.”

“That makes… no sense, Mei.”

“Sure it does,” she counters easily. “Like, if it was someone who I hate, obviously I would tell you to stop. But if it was someone who I thought would be good for you, then I’d say differently.”

That makes you pause. Your mouth twists into a grimace when you think of Harry, and how as far as anyone else is concerned, you’re still sworn enemies. “What if… what if it’s someone I hate?”

A beat. Mei’s expression morphs into one of steady contemplation, and you can see it on her face when the lightbulb goes off.

“Oh, my god. Fuckin’ finally. I swear, you two are completely clueless.”

And—

Wait.

“Wait—what?”

“Is this your problem, babe? That you’ve been fucking Harry and it suddenly popped into your mind that you might actually fancy him?” Mei scoffs as if she’s offended. “Don’t insult your own intelligence, my love.”

“Mei! What the fuck?” Your mouth drops in astonishment. “How did you know it was Harry?”

“Who else would it be? Bernard?”

You wrinkle your nose at the thought of bedding the elderly violinist. “Does that mean everyone knows?”

“Probably.” Mei shrugs. “Nearly half the orchestra put money in the pot on you two.”

A faint throbbing sensation starts at your temples as your mind whirls with all this information. Could it be that this was meant to be all along, and you were just standing in the way of your happiness? You couldn’t deny it—he brought a certain joy to your life that you’d never experienced before. An excitement that rattled your bones every time you saw him.

“Is it really so bad that you like him?”

Mei’s question hangs in the air. Looking down at your lap, you lift your shoulders hastily. “I… I’m scared,” you confess, not even bothering to deny her assumptions of your feelings. “I didn’t think I’d ever change the way I felt about him. I mean—Mei, you saw the way we were around each other.” Mei hums in assent quietly. “Some of the things I’ve said… There’s no guarantee he feels the same way. This could just be sex for him.”

“How would that make you feel?”

Through a dry laugh, you reply easily. “Devastated.”

In the silence that follows, you feel the weight of that single word. Every fiber in your being wants to avoid the crushing disappointment that could arise from confronting Harry.

Mei stands and comes over to you, plopping down so she can wrap an arm around your shoulders. “Well, you won’t know anything until you have a conversation,” she tells you earnestly, squeezing your body against hers. “Just talk to him, babe. Tell him how you feel. You could be surprised.”

The advice seems daunting, and all you want to do is reject it. But it’s the last night of the season, and you don’t know when you’ll see Harry again after tomorrow. You sigh, pinching your eyes shut for a brief moment.

Tomorrow, then.

-*-

In the hours that follow after you wake up after a fitful, restless sleep, you try to focus. Your game face is on, mostly for the symphony, but also for the conversation with Harry. Your plan is to find him after the dress rehearsal in the early afternoon, before everyone breaks to get ready for the performance tonight.

As you walk toward Henry Wood Hall, violin case strapped across your back, you go over what you plan to say. A moderate amount of practice went into coming up with your thoughts, but going in on a whim probably would have ended up in disaster. You need Harry to know exactly what you’ve been feeling, but it all ultimately boils down to a single sentence.

I have feelings for you.

The most terrifying five words in existence.

You know Harry tends to hang out in one of the atria before rehearsals, so you figure you’ll wait for him there since it’s a bit early still. Taking the stairs two at a time, you rush up to the door and pull it open, letting the heat of the old building blanket you in its warm embrace. As you round the corner, you hear some voices drifting down the corridor—

It’s Harry. With Pieter.

You whirl backward reflexively and press yourself against the wall. Your heart is thudding in your throat as you crane your neck as far as you can without revealing yourself, trying to listen in on what they’re saying. It’s completely immoral, but the sight of Harry with the soon-to-be former concertmaster on the day the new concertmaster is supposed to be announced doesn’t exactly feel like a coincidence.

“...I’m glad to hear you’ve accepted the offer, Harry. It’s a great opportunity for you. And you’ll get to stay here—no more cloudy Vienna!”

Your stomach lurches. Static, white noise filters through your ears as you stand there, petrified, while Harry and Pieter chuckle as if your entire world hasn’t come crashing down.

Eyes burning, you push yourself off the wall and start walking back in the direction you came. Your stoic facade clicks into place by the time you enter the rehearsal space, the entire interaction tucked away in the back of your mind as you compartmentalize your priorities. Right now, all that matters is the performance.

When Harry walks in, you don’t even spare him a single glance.

-*-

It’s a smashing success. You didn’t expect anything less.

And now, standing at a table with an empty champagne flute, all you want to do is disappear. Because across the room is Harry, surrounded by donors and other members of the orchestra, being fawned over like some boy band sweetheart. It’s ugly to feel resentment, but you can’t help it. He played you—you were just a game to him, nothing more.

You’ve half a mind to get absolutely plastered at the open bar, but then there’s no guarantee that the horrid feeling in your chest won’t explode out of your mouth if Harry dares to cross you. You’ve been successfully avoiding him since before the performance, barely responding to his greeting when he’d taken his place next to you on stage. You ran off after the applause before he could even say anything. It might be obvious that you’re avoiding him, but he has yet to say anything.

Still, you can’t let yourself be cornered. Now that he’s occupied, you decide to sneak off to the toilets to retouch your lipstick—whatever excuse you can find to leave the ballroom. With all these old men and women in their overpriced gowns and stifling, musty perfumes, these parties are unbearable. Your situation only makes things worse.

The hallway is empty, thankfully, so you let a little bit of the tension loosen from your back. Your face drops into a frown, a stark contrast from the hardened smile you’d been faking all night. Everything feels heavy with a weird sense of grief, like you’d lost something of yours.

But he was never yours, so does it even count?

Just as you’re getting to the end of the hallway, a voice calls out your name. You still midstep.

“Wait!”

Harry jogs to meet you where you are. You notice he has a casual grin on his face, and it makes your heart tear in two. Of course he thinks nothing is wrong—he’s gotten what he wants. You’re the loser, not him.

“Are you leaving?” he asks when he reaches you. “Bit early, isn’t it?”

“Was just goin’ to the toilets.” You cringe inwardly at how meek you sound. “I’ll be back in a bit.”

As you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist. “Wait,” he says again, softer this time. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you afterward. Wanted to congratulate you, but you ran off.”

“Sorry,” you mumble halfheartedly, gaze dropping to the floor.

He peers at you, darting his head down to try and meet your eyes. His inquisitive gaze makes your skin crawl; you want to be anywhere else but there. “Have I done something?” he asks, though there’s still a hint of a smile on his face so you figure he thinks you’re fooling around with him. “Are you avoiding me?”

“M’not avoiding you.”

“Hey, c’mon. Look at me.” Twisting your lips to the side, you glance up. His face is too open, too vulnerable. It’s exactly how you’ve felt this entire time, but now you feel jaded about everything. You’re not sure how to handle it. “Talk to me, please.”

“M’fine, Harry.”

“Baby…”

“Don’t—” you cut yourself off, letting a soft scoff escape your lips as you shake your head. “Don’t call me that.”

His demeanor changes. “What are you on about? If I’ve done something, come out and say it.”

You knew he’d be fiery during confrontation, especially if you were accusing him of something. But seeing it in front of you makes you want to shrink away and run from him. His grip on your wrist has tightened, but you shake him off and square your shoulders, prepared to take on this fight.

“I think you know exactly what you’ve done,” you say coldly. “Got the job and fucked the girl. That’s all you wanted, right?”

He rears back, like your words have knocked the air out of his chest. “How’d you know about the job? Actually, no. What in the bloody hell is that supposed to mean?”

“Harry, don’t play dumb! I heard you and Pieter talking, I know you got the chair.”

At this point, your frustration is overpowering your ability to think clearly. Though your vision is red, part of you aches at the turmoil flashing across Harry’s face. It’s probably hard for him to realize he actually hurt you—that you actually have feelings.

“Did you not hear what I said five seconds ago?” he says after a pause. “I followed you here to congratulate you. Clearly, Pieter hasn’t talked to you yet, though.”

You stare at him blankly. It doesn’t make sense. “But I heard—”

“You heard what? That I didn’t get the chair? That they still wanted me to stay?” Harry scoffs, hands on his hips as he shakes his head. “This is brilliant. They offered me second chair permanently. And I said yes.” He pauses, kissing his teeth with his tongue. “Though if this was the response I’d get from you, I think I’d rather go back to Vienna.”

Your breaths come out in shaky exhales as you start to connect the dots in your head. If Harry was offered second chair, and he came here to congratulate you, then that means—

“I got it?”

Harry nods. “Yeah,” he sighs, gesturing in front of him offhandedly. “You did. Congratulations, concertmaster.”

Concertmaster.

Every piece of you wants to shout with joy. It was yours—you’d done it. But the victory feels bittersweet, because now you’ve made yourself look like a complete idiot. And you’ve hurt Harry, who’s standing in front of you looking dejected. The culpability of your actions floods through you like a tsunami.

“Fuck, Harry—I’m sorry. God, I feel like an absolute idiot,” you say, stepping toward him. “Let me explain, please.”

Though he stays silent, he doesn’t leave. So you take that as your cue to start talking.

“When I heard you yesterday, I was going to talk to you,” you start carefully, monitoring his expression. His face gives nothing away. “I was going to tell you that…” Your chest tightens before you can say anything. “Fuck, this is hard.”

Still staying silent, Harry slots his fingers through yours. It gives you the courage to keep talking.

“I got scared and I—I thought maybe what we have meant differently to you than it does to me,” you say quickly, avoiding his gaze.

“What does it mean to you?”

You look up, seeing his eyes locked on you. His hand squeezes yours tightly.

“Everything.”

A look of relief washes over his face. You feel your pulse jump at the thought of him thinking the same thing as you, and it feels as natural as breathing when he drops your hand, only to pull you in by the waist. His forehead presses against yours, and you let your arms drift up and around his neck.

“The chair stopped mattering to me a long time ago,” he whispers, as if he knows to put your insecurities to rest. “It’s always been you.”

You smile, and he mirrors it, ducking down to kiss you for a dizzying second. It feels like coming home—it feels like everything.

#1dff #harry styles #harry styles fanfiction #harry styles smut #harry styles fluff

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fandom-blackhole · 3 years ago

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I'm back from my mandatory two day socialization recovery period required for all socialization even if I enjoy it. It's time for some Mermaid!Din au thoughts (No thots unfortunately but we'll live)

First off I love the isolation that the reader faces because of the lighthouse they live in. And I love how the townspeople being nice to the reader help give them a reason to stick around when weird things start happening.

I love how it took months before anything strange starts happening, like were Din and Grogu just not around or were they observing the reader. Did Din ever try to stop Grogu from damaging the lighthouse or did he let the little rascal do as he pleased.

· And gosh I love the idea of reader dressing in old worn clothing, a knit sweater with fraying sleeves, sweat pants covered in paint from repairs, an old windbreaker to help keep the cold out. It makes me heart all warm and fuzzy.

Edna, who i've head cannoned as this series Miss Chatham (H2O: just add water charter) is honestly life goals. Like live near ocean - check(ish), have rare knowledge that can be used to help new person - check, being just slightly spooky -amazing. And is that a little matchmaker I see her playing? I love it.

Then Grogu being injured :( I bet that Din is absolutely being eaten alive by guilt even though we all know it’s not his fault and he does literally anything he can to keep Grogu safe and happy.

And In love how Din is venerable enough to ask for help, like he recognizes that this is something out of his area of expertise so he goes to the person he knows is “safe” to get help. He’s humble enough to admit that he needs help and is not capable of doing everything for Grogu. And being able to admit that is an important life skill that not enough people have.

· But even after he ask the reader for help he is still hesitant which shows that even though hes trusting reader he will still kick (is it still a kick if its with a tail) the readers ass if he hurts him.

“But you can help him” Oh my heart the trust in that sentence. Like Din just heard, “so yeah I can help your son but I have to take him somewhere it will be hard for you to follow. And he needs to stay there for at least a week, and even if you manage to come its going to be so far from your natural element.” But he was still on board with the plan. And then he goes to climb on the rock so he can drag himself all the way to the light house because he can’t let his little boy go alone even if it means hurting himself to do it.

Reader was smart af for doing the old blanket slipperaroo trick

Reader immediately knowing something was up when she walked into town is so realistic. She literally is hiding a massive secret at her lighthouse of course anyone would be on edge walking back into society. Especially a society that already knows a little something about the secret. But them to amplify it. Miss Chatham to the rescue. She knows that reader is up to something and she uses her powers as an old lady with lungs and karen potential to scare off the problem for a little bit. The reader just placed so much trust on Edna by straight up telling her that she's housing Din and Grogu.

· Also that fool browsing the menstrual hygiene rack, like dumbass. Is this your way of making him miss every shot? Because we know that storm troopers are well known for their ability to miss every shot so making him automatically turn to tampons? Genius

Cashier for the win, like beep beep bitch now pay up

The "cyare" omg and then the reader warning Din about the cookies and him being so curious about them. The way Din is so perceptive of the readers mood that he is already able to tell that something is wrong. It was such a smart idea to have the reader lead with asking him to give her a small chance to calm down about what happened in the town.

Din and the reader low-key flirting and teasing each other at the end is so adorable. Grogu with the cookie absolutely melts my heart like of course that boy is hungry.

So this is a slightly polished layout of my stream of consciousness while reading this. Does it make sense? Probably not. But I love this idea and you have done it justice.

Ahhhhhhz thank you for all of the lovely thoughts and compliments, im glad you like my story and I hope it continuesto meet your expectations!!!! And you made perfect sense darling!

To reply to some things:

Honestly, I chose the isolation for two reasons, 1- it made sense, especially for how the plot is going to play out, privacy and isolation is needed, and 2- im introverted and I like being alone, so I just projected

The town's people are great! They are used to having lighthouse keepers just up and leave because of all the weird stuff, so the second that one sticks around they were all overjoyed, because like I said, a lot of the people work on boats fishing so the lighthouse is super important to them

Din did wait and observe the reader, wanting to know what to do when to attempt to scare them off. But also like no, he tried keeping Grogu away from the lighthouse as much as possible, not knowing what the reader might do to him, and just being a protective father, but we all know Grogu is a little shit and he snuck out before Din could stop him

Reader dresses in the COMFIEST clothes, and honestly, I am very much a sweater and comfy leggings kind of person, so again, something I am projecting

I love that you and everyone is loving Edna, she is definitely one of those cool old ladies that sneak you treats and shenanigans when no one is looking!

Also because idk if anyone has pointed it out.... in the last chapter I thought I was heavily hinting at it, but maybe it was more subtle than I thought, Edna and her MERMAID were alot more than friends *wink wink* she's gay as fuck and thats why she made the joke about not liking NUTS

Din loves Grogu, in and out of this AU, and it was 1000% not his fault that Grogu got hurt, in fact he was trying to protect him! Din definitely panicked and the first person that came to mind was the reader, and while he didn't know them, he knew for some reason they were safe to go to for help (as well as knowing the lighthouse would be a good place to hide while some things cooled down 👀), but Din will always be cautious because he is scared for his son

Din is just *chef's kiss* 👌, an amazing father who will do ANYTHING for his son, no matter what it takes

The whole blanket thing literally came from my childhood, thinking about how my sisters and I would drag eachother around on blankets, and I just thought it would be great for this scenario

Like the reader is gonna get real paranoid during this series, im not going to lie to you, things are gonna get rough, but Edna is the MVP she's one of those people that could pull your darkest secrets from you just by glancing at you, and the reader pretty much assumed she was safe to talk to after she had informed her about the food offerings

Ok ok, as for the dudes, I was too lazy to look up their names and stuff but they were these dudes from season 1 that gave Din Grogu's bounty: the first dude is the one 'hiding' in the women's hygiene section

Din is just obsessed for human food at this point, and he feels things for the reader even of he doesn't want to admit it quite yet

Din also may be oblivious as fuck, but he's also observant, hes a bounty hunter for fucks sake, he needs to be able to pick up on these things, so yes in my stories Din is really good at picking up on emotions, even if he doesn't fully know how to react to them

Im aiming for a slow burn foc, but to be honest with you all, chances are it is going to be a regularly paced romance, which for my writing is slow paced, so yeah the idiots are flirting and teasing eachother, but also like they will not be talking about or admitting feelings for at least a few more chapters

Grpgu deserves all the cookies!!! He's a growing tadpole, who has been magically healing himself while in a coma like state, so he hasnt eaten in days, and if he wanted he'd probably be able to devour 2x his body weight and then some, so a few cookies recieved in some kind of mysterious way are well achieved

Merman!Din Tags: @writeforfandoms @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @honey-goth @mando-abs @lux-cream-67 @rachelle-on-the-run @katcharm @ladamari68 @bluegalaxyprime @my-life-as-a-bird @altarsw @zarakem @stargazingthenightaway

(Added the taglist in case any of you guys wanted to read over my thoughts and things bc I have some hcs and cleared somethings up ypu may be wondering about)

#merman!din djarin #merman au #merman!din x lighthouse keeper!reader #and tadpole!grogu

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copperpieceharlot · 4 years ago

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Bud I’m sorry to swing into your inbox uninvited like this but my soul is having an OOTS renaissance thanks to your content in the tag and did you say Leverage AU

haha holy SHIT this got Long. but yes. i’ve been. Thinking. (also literally Never feel like you have to apologize for sending me messages. i was Hoping someone would ask me about this. now i have an Excuse to share EVERYTHING ive written abt it :3)

Obviously, Roy is the leader/brains of the outfit. He grew up having some Strong Opinions abt what’s Legal versus what’s Right due to tragic backstory involving the death of his little brother which was definitely SOMEONE’S fault for negligence but since there technically wasn’t any illegal behavior, there were no consequences for it. Also he’s still angry at his dad bc he thinks his dad is also partly culpable (and also also just a dick). He’s the Moral Backbone of the team (alongside Durkon, more on that later) in basically the same way Nate was in og Leverage. He’s actually not the best at figuring out what people want (that’s Haley and, shockingly, occasionally Elan), but once he has that info, he is the absolute best at figuring out the ideal plan of attack to use in any given case.

Haley is still a thief. I mean she maps to Parker almost PERFECTLY. Her dad was a thief & a conman, her mom wasn’t but knew about it and mostly accepted it, but she died tragically in a mugging gone wrong or smth, which made Ian crank the paranoia WAY up and taught Haley to do the same in the name of “safety”. Let’s keep the “Ian is in Trouble and Haley needs money, Fast” which is why she signs on to the first job in the first place. She’s less acrobatic than Parker, tending towards finding (or making) weak spots in security, but she can still make a tumble check when she needs to.

Elan is the grifter who is somehow an Idiot but also not???? It baffles everyone. When he’s playing a part for a con, he’s FLAWLESS, but then the rest of the time he’s just. No Thoughts Head Empty. He probably gets lured in initially because he’s decided to try his hand at being part of a full team, rather than the two-man cons he’s been running that invariably end w his partner conning him as well and stealing half of his take. Also he likes the idea of being Crime Friends. He’s that tweet where it’s like, Roy: “after the heist is over, we split up and never communicate again” / Elan: [about to unveil his Crime Buddies Forever Friendship Quilt Puppets]: “never?”

Vaarsuvius is the hacker/gadget person. They have a Vaguely Snobby Yet Unidentifiable accent, dyed(?) purple hair (nobody has ever seen their roots) and nobody knows who they “really” are or where they came from, but they’re good at what they do so everyone just accepts the mystery. They probably got suckered into the team by their initial employer (who I’ll get to Eventually, lol) framing it as a challenge to their intellect, like, “oh, I see, you’re not smart enough to make this team work for you...” to which they were like Fucking Watch Me and also melted his computer. Anyways. They are joined (digitally) by their Intrepid Friend And Co-Conspirator (his words, not theirs), a fellow hacker known only as Blackwing, or, on certain forums, Blackwing_Bird. (In the first season, V only occasionally references him when saying they’re “calling in extra help” or smth for a particularly complex hack job. He starts showing up a little more in s2 and eventually by the start of s4 is a regular & established presence, but only appears as actions in a computer interface or output.) Elan is convinced he’s an AI, Belkar doesn’t think he actually exists, Haley pretends she doesn’t think he exists, and Durkon and Roy try not to think about it too hard, as long as B and V still get the job done.

Belkar is the hitter. He is on the team bc their initial employer got him out of jail for it. He doesn’t have a tragic backstory, he just likes doing violent crimes. As the series progresses, he grows some empathy & stuff, but really only for people who actually deserve it. Assholes still get decked. It’s all very touching. (Also he has dwarfism caused by achondroplasia. It doesn’t actually bother him and is useful in fights bc his opponents frequently have no fucking clue how to approach him, but he likes Pretending to take offense at stupid things just to see how far he can go with it.)

Aaaand last but not least, Durkon is the least involved member of the team. He’s actually a career criminal and Roy’s mentor, and wasn’t a member of the initial team that [redacted, I’ll tell you later, PROMISE] put together for a couple of reasons, the main one being that he’s Officially retired in order to spend more time with his family, which consists of his mom, his friend (not girlfriend) Hilgya, baby Kudzu, and a truly stunning number of aunts, uncles, and cousins. Roy frequently calls or visits him for advice and he Occasionally shows up to help out on local jobs, but generally he avoids doing crime if he can (as part of a deal with Hilgya, who is also a career criminal; basically, they’ve both cut back on the crime in order to provide a more stable home environment for Kudzu. But sometimes, you gotta do a little crime, and in those cases, Sigdi enjoys spending time w her grandson.)

NOW. THE BIG REVEAL YOU’VE BEEN WAITING FOR. Who got the team together in the first place?!

The answer: Lord Shojo (or whatever Normal Person Name you want to assign him). Now this is where it gets tricky: he had them do a thing that they thought was good, THEN they thought it was BAD, but then when they confronted him he revealed that it Appearing to be bad was actually a test of character and would they consider working as basically internal investigators for him? But then he had a heart attack, so, rip. But THEN it turned out that he’d left them a bunch of money anyway and they were all feeling kind of Inspired so they formed the Order of the Stick, LLC (which, no, i am not coming up with a new name, actually, because I just don’t care. someone else can come up w a justification for that name, tho, i’m sure it’s possible). Also Miko was there and was unhappy abt their actions, and also their general existence.

Moving on. Villains!

Redcloak is the Sterling replacement, because that DEEPLY amuses me.

Xykon is a season-long main villain, probably one that Redcloak finds himself working for but then “teams up with” (read: blackmails) the Order to bring him down bc even Redcloak finds Xykon distasteful. That’s season 3, let’s say.

Tarquin is another season villain, say season 2. Nale probably shows up pretty early in s1, actually, as another recurring antagonist like Sterling but uh. Less good at it. Anyways the s2 final 3 eps deal with them (accidentally) discovering that Tarquin runs some Evil Empire Company, then trying to outplay him and take him down. Idk if Nale still dies in this version tbh.

Tsukiko is a one-off s1 villain who returns briefly in s4 alongside Miko, who has gone well and truly off the rails.

Season 1 finale has to do w Roy finally getting Vengeance for his little brother.

The vampire squad is the s4 finale villain who do smth terrible to Durkon and then get the Mother Of All Revenge served up to them by the Order.

I envision the show as being 5 seasons (like og Leverage) but I’m not going to sketch out s5 because I think it should be based off whatever happens in the current story arc, possibly involving some legacy of the OotSquiggle.

Other stuff!

The Order of the Squiggle is a legendary criminal team from the 60s who stole a BUNCH of famous shit & then proceeded to legendarily implode. This has no bearing on the plot I’ve sketched out, I just think it’s fun.

The Sapphire Guard members should probably be reworked as FBI. I don’t care about most of them but I do think that Lien and O-Chul could be like, FBI agents who Choose to look the other way while the Order does their very-much-not-legal-but-still-fair Justice Crime, and maybe even help them out on occasion.

So, the Final season-by-season outline, based on everything I’ve written so far:

s1 e1: getting the team together, doing a con for Shojo, then at the end he dies and the gang is like “dang what now?" and intend to split up except then they Don’t.

mid-s1: Nale shows up and tries to trick the Order, but then gets beat like a drum.

late s1: Tsukiko is an underling of the Villain Of The Week, winds up in police custody. But She’ll Be Back.

s1 finale: Roy’s Vengeance: The Vengeaning. also we meet Redcloak as an antagonist.

s2 e1: the truth abt Haley’s father comes out

early s2: The Two Live Crews Job but it’s the Order vs the Linear Guild and the Linear Guild ARE all bad guys.

mid-s2: Redcloak returns. ugh.

late s2: the sapphire guard FBI makes its first appearance, hello O-Chul and Lien.

s2 pre-finale: once again they’re in conflict w Nale over smth, he spends the whole episodes making Cryptic Remarks, they basically beat him (like a drum!) but then the stinger at the end is that Tarquin reveals himself and Elan is like “Dad?!”, roll credits.

s2 finale, part 1: Elan is hanging out w Tarquin bc he’s DEEP in Denial, the Rest of the team tries to take Tarquin down, but it doesn’t work.

s2 finale, part 2: Elan finally gets a clue and they manage to beat Tarquin. still haven’t decided if Nale dies or not, but I’m leaning towards yes. also they rescue Haley’s dad.

s3 e1: fuck dude idk.

early s3: Redcloak shows up, AGAIN, everyone groans. he has blackmail on them, he wants them to take Xykon down.

mid s3: The Rashomon Job but it’s about stealing the Talisman of Dorukan and it turns out that Nale was there too (“oh!” Elan says. “I was wondering why I looked so weird in all those mirrors! But it wasn’t my reflection, it was Nale’s!” “Sweetie, that wasn’t Nale’s reflection,” says Haley. “Huh,” says Elan, “so the mirrors were broken?”, cue eye rolling from everyone else.), and the Successful thief was Hilgya, who’d nabbed it from the owner before it even went on display.

s3 finale: they beat Xykon, actually factually, because he deserves to get his ass Thoroughly kicked, even if only in AU form. Lien and O-Chul are there, so are some other less helpful FBI people. There’s a bit where O-Chul Exact Wordses his way out of telling his superiors about the Order’s less legal activities without technically lying. King shit.

s4 e1: doesn’t really matter. maybe smth to do w some legacy of Tarquin’s company to set up the drama w Malack & Durkon later.

early s4: Durkon gets SENT TO PRISON. Malack approaches the Order abt this because sure they have Different Ethics but they’re still Friends. (Roy is surprised and a little hurt that he’s never heard of Malack, but he ignores that in favor of Let’s Get Whatever Fuckers Did This To Our Friend.)

immediately after that: Miko and Tsukiko return as a Team, preventing the Order from working on the Durkon situation

mid s4: Redcloak makes another unexpected & unwelcome appearance but he’s maybe a little less of a dick? the Order collaborates with Malack & his Crime Buddies (hello, Vector Legion) to pull one over on him tho, because “less of a dick” does not mean “a pleasant or decent person”, and also he was mean abt Durkon being in jail, so he totally deserved it. he still gets whatever he wanted tho, just takes a blow to his pride. also prevents the Order from helping Durkon. they’re having a LOT of setbacks wonder why that could be, not to make sure the season fills its whole length or anything, no sirree

s4 finale: something something taking down the organization, headed by Hel (yes that’s her real name), which framed Durkon for their Big Crime. Durkon goes free and Extra Firmly retires, For Good, He Swears, but says he “met someone new” who might be an asset.

s5 e1: minrah joins the team! and the episode is set in like, somewhere really snowy. that’s all i got.

the rest of s5: don’t know, don’t care, it’s open-ended until the comic finishes up.

#mine #ask #corvidcorgi #order of the stick #oots #leverage #leverage au #oots au #au #outline #haha this thing clocks in at 1.9k words because i am LITERALLY incapable of shutting up #hope u enjoy it bc i spent Way Too Much Mental Effort mapping out how the OotS plotlines might play out in a leverage setting #and then promptly ignored Most of that in favor of making it funnier & dumber & more villain-of-the-week #(bc lbr the comic is Good but it's got an overarching plot form that the Leverage story style does Not jive with)#i'm not tagging all these characters lol

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zeppelin-and-unicorns · 3 years ago

Note

so i’ve read your entire fanfic recs lists and thank you so much for making it!! it introduced me to some of my fave fics like I Think It’s A Real Waste by Jaded Angel and That’s My Baby by kezztip (not including your works of course because i love them all). but now i’m at a lost of what to read. do you have any current fics or fics you would add to your lists?

p.s. so excited RYLH is gonna be updated soon!!! i am seriously in love with that story that it’s my pick me up fic

I'm glad my fanfic recs post was useful to you!! I spent a lot of time making that and I love ALL the stories I recommended.

[do you have any current fics or fics you would add to your lists?] -- Oh hell yeah, a lot of new fics came out after I made that post, and I've found a few more old ones. I'll list them all below (this is going to be LONG):

Multichapters:

all that glitters by SparklingSoul (canon divergence s3):

After getting into some hot water, Jackie and Hyde find themselves thrust into an unlikely partnership-- a partnership where in the lines of morality quickly become blurred as they lead each other down a questionable path to cope with their less than ideal home lives.

This story is a WIP.

Y'ALL, please trust me and read this one, it's amazing. The first chapter was posted yesterday and I'm already addicted.

Rated T.

6k words, one chapter so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Fez/Kelso, and Eric/Donna.

Baby Blue by crimsinsky (s7 fix-it):

Zenmasters being Godparents.

This story is complete.

Rated T.

4k words, 5 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Kelso/Brooke

Friend of the Devil by glittermila (AU):

An AU where Hyde's a girl, and falls for Jackie anyway.

Btw, everyone's gay in this story and I love it, lol.

This story is a WIP.

Rated T.

65k words, 26 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Buddy, Eric/Donna, Fez/Kelso.

He Let Her Go by kezztip (canon divergence s7):

Jackie runs away to her wealthy grandmother in New York after the midseason 7 breakup. Will absence make Hyde's heart grow fonder? What happens when Jackie returns for a secret visit?

This story is complete.

Rated T.

17k words, 17 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I Think I Was Blind Before I Met You by TeaTimeAllOverTown (AU):

He’s 14 and she’s 13 and he finds her crying outside the prison doors and, not that he would ever admit it, hearing her cry makes his skin itch.

This story is complete.

Rated T.

15k words, 2 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Just Ask Santa by heatherlea75 (post s8, Christmas fic):

This is a two part Christmas story featuring JH from Cliches and Things They Say. Sometimes, adults should believe in Santa Claus, too.

This story is complete.

Rated T.

10k words, 3 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Miracle by B_August (AU):

To Pam Burkhart, Jackie is the abnormal child that her husband dragged in during their vacation in Hawaii. To her peers, she's the smart and stuck-up princess that graces the school halls. To the Basement Gang, she's the annoying brat that infiltrated their ranks. To Jackie herself, she is a super powered freak who just wants to do her best. But to Jack Burkhart, Buddy Morgan, a pair of higher life forms, and those who she would later help, she is nothing short of a miracle.

This story is a WIP.

Rated T.

47k words, 33 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna, Fez/Buddy

My Best Friend's Girl by the bohemian flow (AU):

What if Hyde had a crush on Jackie instead of Donna?

This story is a WIP.

Rated T.

2k words, one chapter so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, temporary Jackie/Kelso

perfect matches burn (and baby, so do we) by deartangerine (AU):

One year after their break-up, Jackie and Hyde have finally pieced themselves back together, on their own. Jackie's in school. Hyde's sober. But one fateful weekend stuck together at their best friends' wedding might be all it takes to tear them down again.

Or maybe, just maybe, to build something new.

Another fic where Hyde's genderbent, and it's great! I highly recommend reading the prequel, our fingers intertwined (just like our hearts).

This story is a WIP.

Rated M.

24k words, 9 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Play With Fire by ShinyBo0ts0fLeather (s8 canon divergence):

After Hyde comes back from Las Vegas, Sam comes into everyone's life and thus ruining the very last chance he had with Jackie. Instead of the moping around, Jackie is now fueled with fire and a sense of determination to move on and make a life for herself as a strong, independent woman. Instead of turning their back on Jackie and siding with Hyde, Eric, Donna, Kelso, Fez and even Laurie remain loyal friends to Jackie. Hyde is completely broken, but isn't a complete asshole to Jackie. The gang doesn't turn their back on Hyde, but instead support him yet hold him responsible for his actions instead of sweeping it all under the rug. While Jackie is set on moving on, Hyde is set on getting Jackie back and changing his ways for both her and his sake. Whatever it takes.

Eric never left to Africa, and Kelso is in Chicago with Brooke, but is still around. Donna sticks to her feminist values like in the early seasons and is a better friend to Jackie. Jackie is close to the Forman's as well, and her relationship with her father will be prominent and better here as well. Overall positive with some angst.

This story is a WIP.

Rated M.

30k words, 15 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Something Unexpected by crimsinsky (s1 canon divergence):

What if Jackie wasn’t quite so heartbroken over Kelso kissing Pam Macy?

This story is a WIP.

Rated T.

15k words, 11 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Red/Kitty

Spirit In The Night by springsteenicious (s4/s5 canon divergence):

Jackie and Hyde are in the midst of a passionate- and secret- fling. When Kelso's sister lends the six of them her cabin by a lake for a few days, they have to be even more secretive. But secrecy proves to be a difficult thing to maintain, especially when they can't seem to get enough of each other's presence. (Inspired by the Bruce Springsteen song).

This story is funny as hell, and it's a WIP.

Rated T.

4k words, 2 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Eric/Donna

Take The Money and Run! by MinaSeraphina (post s7):

This here's a story about Steven Hyde and Jackie Blue. Two young lovers with nothin' better to do...

Complete.

Rated M.

29k words, 12 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The One That Wasn't Canon by samcaponi (AU):

Basically, this is an AU where Jackie never dated Kelso. It's not set in a specific season but will take different aspects from each season.

This has to be one of the cutest stories I've ever read in my life.

This story is a WIP.

It doesn't have a rating.

11k words, 9 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

Things Fall Apart by leoasc (s8 canon divergence):

On one night in a motel room in Chicago, Jackie and Hyde learn a valuable lesson about love and life: Things fall apart. People get hurt. Hearts get broken. Over the course of nine months and a series of events no one saw coming, they learn how true that really is.

Prepare yourself because your heart's going to be crushed, but the author guaranteed that they'll fix it so I'm trusting them.

This story is a WIP.

60k words, 9 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Too Late by brokenrussiancrawl (s8 canon divergence):

Hyde was not stalking her. It was just, after months of not seeing or hearing from her, finally spotting her in a bar made him realize how much he truly missed her. The only problem is, the tiny brunette wants nothing to do with the gang...even more so him. But he couldn't stay away.

This is angsty. Very, very angsty. But it's great!

This story is a WIP.

Rated T, but the author said that might change later.

23k words, 5 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Jackie/OC, background Eric/Donna

We're Not Broken, Just Bent by SparklingSoul (post s8):

When tragedy strikes and Jackie and Hyde are forced to live up to their godparent duties, they need to overcome their differences and work together. Along the way, they realize that maybe their relationship isn’t broken beyond repair after all...

This story is one of my favorites, I love it so much!! Please read it.

This story is complete.

Rated T.

67k words, 24 chapters.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, background Eric/Donna

When Did This Happen? by QueenBookBuff (post s8):

Hyde is stunned when he finds out Jackie and Eric no longer hate each other, and he finds he hates the idea of her having a soft place to land that is not him. What he hates even more is the idea that Eric is protecting Jackie from him.

Angsty and beautiful story, I'm loving it.

This story is a WIP.

Rated M.

46k words, 13 chapters so far.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

One-shots:

Anything For You, Doll by icanseeformiles (missing moment):

One-shot, takes place during season 5. Jackie is sick while staying overnight with Hyde in the basement, and Hyde has to take care of her. All fluff.

Rated T.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Five Years by johnnycakewasgolden (idk, it wasn't specified):

It's been five years. Fluffy fic. Sappiness. H/J.

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

He Cared by johnnycakewasgolden (missing moment):

After Hyde tells Kelso that he's a tool for trying to get out of Brooke's pregnancy. Hyde's thoughts drift to Jackie and everything between them.

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Here I Go Again by Tandy (I think it's post s8 but I'm not sure):

Life had not turned out like Jackie had planned. She wasn't rich, she had no maid, no mansion, and no husband. (don't worry this is fluffy).

Rated T.

5k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I'll Have To Say I Love You In A Song by springsteenicious (s5 canon divergence):

"Every time the time was right all the words just came out wrong, so I'll have to say I love you in a song..."

Hyde isn't sure how to tell Jackie he loves her. Then he finds the perfect way, and it's a song sung by Jim Croce.

Rated G.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I LOVE YOU by PrettyinPink33 (I think it's s5 canon divergence but I'm not sure):

"Why can't you say it? It's three words. Eight letters! Why can't you say it?" Hyde doesn't want to use the L-word. A sweet little fluffy J/H oneshot

Rated T.

839 words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

is this the place that i've been dreaming of? by SparklingSoul (missing moment):

“I’m mostly over it now,” she continues, “but sometimes I can’t help but worry about that same thing with any guy. So tell me, would you break up with me, too?”

Jackie has some leftover relationship insecurities from when she dated Kelso and Hyde is there to remind her that she doesn't have to worry anymore.

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

It's a Hyde Thing by not.so.tragically (AU canon divergence):

It became a Hyde thing. She had part in one of his Hyde things, and for some reason, he was okay with it.

Rated T.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Magic Man by ShanghaiLily (missing moment):

Just a sexy little 'missing scene' one-shot that takes place after Donna returns from California and she and Eric catch Jackie & Hyde together on the couch but before Kelso finds out about the affair. After a naughty afternoon together, they admit to themselves & each other they don't want to break up.

Rated M. Very M.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Nice To Meet You by crimsinsky (AU):

What If Jackie and Hyde met without Jackie and Kelso ever dating?

A loudmouth girl meets a troublemaking knight in shining armor.

Rated T.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Now you're looking pretty in a hotel bar by MissRaichyl (post s8):

Hyde and Jackie meet after a long time apart and find comfort in each other that they thought was long gone.

Rated M.

2k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Old and Grey by zpplnchick (post s8):

After a busy day of shopping, Jackie and Hyde make one last purchase: new boots. Post-finale. Told from a 3rd-party perspective.

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

One Special Morning by marirable (missing moment):

If anyone caught him at this hour and in this situation, they would be inevitably buried in the Formans' backyard to maintain his burnout image and not lead it towards the worst. Towards the gang thinking that Hyde got himself a heart.

Rated K.

643 words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

She's a Rainbow by trobedisons (AU? idk):

"she comes in colors everywhere, she combs her hair, she's like a rainbow."

as with everything, jackie is the opposite. they're polar opposites. the rich girl; the bad boy. archetypes that should clash, but they attract. it was as if his calloused hands were crafted to mold into the curve of her hips.

hyde notices jackie’s affinity for rainbow sweaters. hyde also notices he likes jackie. so what happens when she needs a date?

Rated T.

1k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

The Big Toy by JoyfulHeartEO (missing moment?):

When Jackie and Hyde get bored at the Drive in with their friends...where will they go? And what will they do? ;D Read and find out what happens.

Rated M because this has a lot of sex, but it's well written and funny.

3k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

Where Did You Sleep Last Night by QueenBookBuff (s8 canon divergence):

Would a married Jackie ever break her vow to be faithful?

I love ALL of QBB's stories, but this one has a special place in my heart, I don't know why.

Rated T.

This work is part of a series, so there's a sequel.

4k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde, Jackie/Kelso

Why Didn't You Tell Anyone? by zpplnchick (missing moment):

The gang talks about their first kiss, and a surprising revelation is revealed… Set shortly after 4x20.

Rated K+.

6k words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

You Give Me Fever by crimsinsky (missing moment):

Jackie is sick, or is she? She claims she is, but Kelso says he saw her not too long ago. Who is Hyde supposed to believe, and what does he do about it?

Rated G.

5k worrds.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

1983 by antrazi (post s8? idk):

Somebody comes back and watches Hyde's life from the outside.

Rated T.

731 words.

Pairings: Jackie/Hyde

I think this is it! I probably forgot some fics because my brain is weird, but yeah. I've read all of these, and they're all amazing. I think you'll love them!

#ask #fanfic recommendations #jackie x hyde #jackie and hyde #zenmasters #fanfic #that 70's show #that 70s show

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hermitcraftheadcanons · 4 years ago

Text

AU Raffle: Cryptid AU!

[COMPLETE]

The result of the random selection was the Cryptid AU! Multiple people suggested this, so I'm looking forward to hearing all the ideas and extensions you guys will come up with. This will be a masterpost collecting them all, and it will be pinned for the duration of the AU.

Original suggestion: "For the Raffle. Cryptid AU. None of the Hermits are truly human and they all are really powerful cryptids that are hiding their true nature. The catch! Every Hermit thinks the other Hermits are totally normal and they are the only cryptid one. Hilarity ensures with everyone trying to explain the extrange things that keep happening "

Some ideas I came up with:

- every Hermit is a cryptid or monster of some kind, except for Grian, who is fully human and completely clueless about everything that's going on (suggested by a previous ask)

- Team ZIT is an investigation group trying to prove the existence of cryptids, but each one of them is subtly trying to sabotage the investigation to hide their own cryptid-ness. None of the three know the other two are also cryptids. Hilarity ensues.

- Xisuma probably knows what's going on with everyone, but he's not saying anything

- Mumbo is doing an absolutely horrible job of hiding that he's a cryptid, but somehow people still don't notice. Iskall is probably the closest to figuring it out.

- VintageBeef has already figured out that Keralis isn't human, but Keralis is bribing him to keep quiet

I hope that's enough to get the ball rolling! Send in your ideas using asks, and I'll put them down here!

If you need ideas about which cryptid would fit best with which Hermit, this list may be helpful.

Anonymous Additions:

- I feel like xisuma should be some kind of shapeshifter

- cleo was brought back to life by a family that loved her very much- or at least, that was what they tried to do. in reality, they brought a completely new soul back in the body of a deceased relative. cleo felt uncomfortable around people who thought she was a different person than she was, so she ran away and eventually befriended the hermits bc she just felt ~drawn to them~. she disguises her bloodless skin and lack of body heat with thick clothes and lots of makeup

- Cleo, of course, is a zombie, but she also has ties to Cthulu that she doesn't really try to hide, but that people overlook all the time. I'm just saying, an avatar of an eldritch being having to be a zombie kinda makes sense...

- Cthulu needed a body, and this kind family was nice enough to supply one! It was kinda their fault really, praying to ancient gods and making deals without reading the fine print. Cleo might feel guilty, but it wasn't on her, not really

- cryptid au: joe isn't a human, but a changeling: a shapeshifting, nonhuman entity that evolved to invade human families like a cuckoo. he has the ability to bend light to make illusions, but he normally just uses his powers to make himself appear human. however he does like to make all lime green things he sees invisible, for the lulz

- What about mumbo being a vampire, it just introduces the idea of so many odd behaviors that the others are just oblivious to

- What if ren is a werewolf(I know it isn't original) and he just thinks of the other hermits as his pack and is therefor very protective of them

- Obligatory Ren is a Werewolf for the Cryptid AU. He is acts like a gigant puppy when he is in wolf form. Nobody questions why sometimes they found a gigant wolf trying to play fetch with them. But nobody is complaining. Everyone talks about it and Ren is just upset because the gigant pupper has never come to see him. Surprise!! Not even Ren knows he is a werewolf

- idk if your still doing cryptid stuff because i don't really know how this works but,, what if everyone thinks that Grian Is Something when he's not. They keep trying to figure it out by asking him weird questions or trying to get him to do weird stuff, but he still stays completely oblivious. And then since Xisuma knows what everyone is, he thinks it's hilarious trying to watch everyone try to find something that isn't there.

- Cryptid au: Doc has made it obvious that he is a cryptid like, he explains it so obviously even an idiot would tell that he's one, But no one has figured out yet. So after the 15th time of explaining things he decides to present how he's a cryptid, by making a goatess.

- For the au, I have 2 ideas for grian, either he is very outspoken about not believing in the super natural, or he very much does believe in the supernatural, either way he unknowingly befriends multiple cryptids and is very confused

- Cryptic AU: Tango has fire for hair, and no ones really questioned as to why?

- What if false was a siren, just because it seems like an interesting idea (my addition: Wels would also make a great siren)

- Stress seems like the type to be an elf, graceful and cheerful, and of course admiring nature's beauty

- What if Impulse was mothman, I like this idea because of the whole team zit being paranormal investigators and they just go looking for mothman on one trip, and Impulse is just standing there probably feeling a bit awkward

- If Impulse is Mothman and he can fly and Tango is like a fire demon that controls fire, is only fair that Zed is an aquatic Cryptid. Maybe related to a lake monster or he is a Sea Serpent

- Yeti Iskall getting used to the hot environment of the Jungle??? Maybe?

- i have no clue how this works but etho is related to ningen in a way (Antarctic sea creatures from Japanese folklore)

- Joe's poems seem to stick in your head, echoing around for hours after you hear them, ringing between your ears. Their subjects vary, but they often seem eerily prophetic, warnings encased in rhythm and rhyme. Sometimes you swear you can hear the soft scritch of a pen on paper, before you realize you are the only one around.

- Wait how the hell would jevin hide that fact he's a slime? Better yet how do the other hermits not put to and to together? Through I think jevin probably wouldn't even bother trying to hide it, I mean he's a huge blob of slime how would you not be able to tell

(my response, summarized) Jevin inhabits a body of slime because that's the easiest way to hide his true form. "Jevin" is a non-physical entity that can possess other lifeforms by destroying their will. He chose a slime this time because it was easy and inconspicuous.)

- Cryptid au: Team ZIT have a headquarters and they all pitched in to commission Etho to make their door bell chime, the ghost busters theme, and afterward interrogated Etho to the ground.

- Doc is not a creeper with cyborneticts. Doc is the AI that came with the cyborneticts and over-wrote the conciousness of the creeper. Figured that making Doc something else would be too dificult so maybe subverting what he is with what we got alredy is enough (like you did with Jevin)

- I am putting this here for vampire mumbo in the au because the thought will not leave my head. It's dark, and mumbo's eyes seem to reflect light very well, his canine teeth seem just a bit too long and sharp, they seem to be stained red,was he always this tall? Something about him seems off, he seems very elegant in this darkness.

- cryptid au: when joe was young, he was ignored so much that he turned invisible. you can still see his shadow but you could look directly at him and not see him there with the best tools. he disguises himself by staying quiet, using text to communicate with the other hermits or by covering himself with clothes and masks so nobody would be able to see his body even if he wasnt invisible.

- For the au I think that Iskall could be a dryad because of his base this season

- Imagine if you will: Tango leaves town for a bit so the team ZIT can't do their "investigations". Impulse gets bored and decided to pretend to kidnap Zedaph in mothman-form. When Tango returns, Zedaph tells him how he almost was kidnapped by Mothman (and is over-exaggerating on every detail)

- What if in the au there is a situation where team zit is in some sort of danger, and so each of them just independently decide that they have to reveal the fact of their cryptid selves, and they just collectivly think,"huh. Okay." And after they are safe, they just talk about it as a group

- Beef is big foot.

- Biffa looks like a robot or cyborg, which one? He won't say. Maybe its because its neither, maybe he's just a walking body with a mind, maybe he's just a suit of armor roaming the world, maybe a spirit or ghost from the past, maybe a mob whose inhabited and pilots the body, maybe he's just Biffa. Only he knows, but he won't say

- Cryptid AU: I’m just imagining zedaph or tango throwing a bell at grian in an attempt to “capture” him under the suspicion that he’s part fae or something at a server meeting

- About Cryptid!Wels, sometimes, when the night is dark and the world is silent, you'll hear it; a soft voice in the darkness. You can't help but listen to it as you get lost in the song, swaying to the melody as your foot moves to the beat. The song gets louder and your feet are more frantic as they seem to take you somewhere. Suddenly, the voice stops singing and so you stop moving, and when you open your eyes you find yourself on the edge of the cliff overlooking the ocean. The siren lurks near

- Doc isnt a Creeper with cybrog parts but a robot made to look like a creeper, that arm and eye? yea just exposed parts from years of just not caring enough. He's waiting to see when someone will call him out on it. So far, only TFC and X but they like to watch how long this will go. Doc isnt even hiding anymore, he loves to mess with Grian by making remarks that imply he's a robot but Grian just can't figure it out

- tbh I love the idea of Joe as a regular human who just acts super cryptic and strange, and has a bit of skill at poetry. others try and figure out what he is, and he's just vibing in a corner, the last one anyone would expect to be the sole normal person on the server

- Cryptid AU. Joe and Cleo as the ‘One Bagel. No!! Two bagels!’ Vine. Joe being the one that asked and Cleo ignoring Cthulhu

- Joe starts sharing different ideas of what he could be, and only Cleo knows (mostly... she's the closest at least). Joe's mystery is a Hermitcraft classic, greeting every hermit except X, who still only has what Joe's told him to go on. He delights in the chaos he causes

- Scar is a poltergeist, he hides it well. One time Grian caught him using his powers, after scar fessed up, in private, they both bring some amount of chaos to the server, but not to much so the ZIT crypt hunters, name in progress, don't know about the chaos, thus not puting the duo in danger.

- Mumbo might be a vampire, but it isn’t for blood (at least, not anymore). Only Grian has come close to figuring it out, and it’s due to seeing how refreshed and satisfied his friend looks after being around 2+ groups of people. If only he would just straight up and ask. - 🦊

- Rather last minute but do you have any ideas of how Evil Xisuma could fit into this? Would he be a shapeshifter as well. A copy of X's true form? A demon haunting Xisuma? Just X's pesky brother? There's a handful of ideas I can't personally decide what would fit best. Maybe none of them at all, who know?

Cryptid Au. Xisuma shapeshifts for fun. Thats how we get Turtle!Xisuma, Beesuma and Stridersuma. All hermits just assume X changes his suit because they have never seen his face so there is no way for them to know he shifts. Also clasic headcanon that TFC is Herobrine and he is just laying low in Hermitcraft after years of going around worlds. Everyone knows the legend about Herobrine but have not connected the dots yet because TFC is just everyone’s grandpa. No way he could be Herobrine.

- @/ivi-prism

- While most might assume that Grian would be a harpy, its actully Scar. He's incredibly flexable in Human form, hes able to manuver his foot behind his head, and moret than once has Cub walked in on Scar with a living fish in his mouth. He never questioned it because "Hey, Vex magics weird."

- Imagine- sytyr Zedaph and Fae Impulse walking in on Willowwisp Tango who,because willowwisps are typically tiny, shrunk in response to panic and is now stuck in a caldron. I think that be hilarious. Just the idea of impulse going-"YOUR A CRYPTID?" while Zed just "WAIT I KNEW I DIDNT BURN THOSE PAPERS!" Which leads into a discussion of ZIT internal sabotage, and suddenly ZIT invesigation changes direction from "Are cryptids real" to "Is anyone else a Cryptid cause this cannot be a Coincidence"

- @/crypticalwitch

- Cryptic AU: Tango can also control his hair, to an extent. He can slick it back, but it still looks like burning embers. It's a bit mesmerizing

- Cryptid AU: Cub was a normal guy, maybe with some weirder interests, before the Vex. "Playing" with their magic too much is what made him a cryptid. So maybe he understands that the other hermits aren't exactly "human". But it isn't his business, and it means they don't question what the Vex get him into, so he just doesn't say anything about it

- Cryptic AU: Team ZIT's strongest evidence for Grian is the fact he's a master with an elytra, especially since he first said he "might use it a little bit" for long journeys. He's flown into a dark hole in a dark wall that's barely big enough to fit him multiple times, with ease, among other risky stunts that would get other hermits killed. The fact there's not much else to go on, besides his pranking zeal only matched by Zed himself, drives them up the wall

- Cryptic AU: when you stay out too long at night, you might start to feel watched. You'll turn around and nobody is there, but still you feel eyes on your back, and the breeze always seems hot and brushes your neck like too-close breathing and a hand. Finally, you catch it: a familiar figure that stands too stiffly, always just too far away to name. Then it vanishes with an airy shriek, and phantoms descend from the stars. Bdubs did always say the worst things happen in the night.

- Cryptic AU: Impulse's smiles are just a little too big. If you look at one too long, you feel as though it's stretching wider and wider, the cheery shine in his eyes twisting into a hungry gleam, but then you blink and he's back to normal ol Impulse and you question if you really saw anything. That time you saw his smile glinting in the darkness just beyond your bed must've been a nightmare. Your imagination.

- Cryptic AU: Don't look into his eyes. Look in, and you will see the universes. Billions of stars, trillions of futures, all impossibly swirling together, hauntingly beautiful. You'll fall down, down, down through the glittering spirals, until with a breathtaking snap you're on your knees, on solid ground. You're lucky he doesn't want to keep you, like others might. The lives and worlds you glimpsed will echo through your mind, weave through your dreams. Do not fear. Do not look into his eyes.

- The mountain is his territory. If you enter it unbidden, he will ensure you leave, lucky to keep your life. His contraptions are nonsense, seeming to serve no purpose other than to confuse. They distract from how the air crackles on your skin, how it tastes of storms and thunder. They distract how, from the corner of your eye, Zedaph's limbs are too long, fingers with too many knuckles and legs with too many knees. All angles and bones, like his designs. Do not look too closely at his garden.

- Everyone learned not to ask about him. Mostly because in trying to form the question, you'll find the words slipping from your mind. So Tango's hair burns, his eyes are red cherries. In the darkness he glows, the embers of a forgotten fire. His skin is always hot, almost feverish, yet he isnt sick. If he gets too close to lava, the illusion fades, reveals the magma that forms his skin. Illusion? No, that was just a burn. He relishes the smoke and rubble of explosions. Control. Always controlled.

- xB doesn't mind being away from the other hermits. It's quiet there; far enough away that most aren't bothered to prank him. He doesn't like surprises. Surprises get people hurt. Gets his friends hurt. His guardians appreciate the still predictability. The calm. Yes, he prefers to sit back, quiet, and watch. If he looks too long, bad things happen. So he observes it all, never focusing too much on one detail, never letting them go unseen. It prevents surprises.

- Because that last one wasn't all that clear, xB is a guardian-based cryptid! While nothing seems inhuman about him at a glance, he has a close affinity to water, and when threatened the spines he hides with his clothes will stick out. (Guardians only spawn in water, but they actually don't suffocate in air! Though their desperate flopping is a sad sight to behold) Plus, laser-eyes

- Xisuma wasn't always able to change his form as easily or drastically as he can now. But by now, he's forgotten his own face. Now, he'll feel his skin, his body begin to itch with the need to change. He's glad the hermits don't seem to care when he does. Keralis's mimicry was a surprise, but a welcome one. He feels less alone. Loneliness is how he would lose himself. He's scared of that possibility.

- When he sleeps, he walks through the minds of those whose eyes met his, as if it were his own dream. He'll hear their thoughts as if they were his own. He doesn't like this. It feels like an invasion. He feels like a parasite, and maybe he is. Whoever he dreamed through last, they seem exhausted and jumpy after, while he feels energized, near invincible. It's through this ability he knows their deepest secrets, but they aren't his to tell. Sometimes, he wishes he could understand. (Xisuma pt 2)

- Cryptid AU: another reason that Grian cant possibly be a human is his clothes. Just. How does he have something for every occasion. He even has a janitor one? Why did he have that? This "man" doesn't own a single closet yet has at least 20 different costumes-- not to mention you blink and he's changed! Wh- he had a REAPER costume for himself AND SCAR???

- @/basaltdragon

- Cryptid AU: Grian used to be against cryptids because of Sam (YHS) and his bunny attributes, but has since accepted the fact Sam was just a bad apple, and cryptids as a whole are neutral/good.

- Your heart, it beats, like redstone ticking away within you. He knows redstone through and through... so why not you too? Every pulse sent though the machine of your body is one more reason for him to reverse engineer you. But he restrains, takes a step back, as these machines could never be put back together.

- He's been here since the beginning; not of Hermitcraft, but everything. Watching as the game evolved over the years... He smiles at the thought. His hair now matching his eyes - like harsh reflective snow - he recalls these memories fondly. As his eyes fade to their piercing blue, he sighs, for this is home.

- When any of the other Hermits (at least the ones with blood) get injured, Mumbo has to step away. The need for their blood, their lifeforce, is too overwhelming.

- @/12u3ie

- Cryptid AU: with the team ZIT headquarters I thought of something similar to the TEA headquarters from season 3. Probably more confusing, colourful and chock full of even more excessive redstone doors. Why not add another elevator? Where's the coffee machine? Maybe the next room over? Was that corridor there before? I don't know. What's the use of that room? What's behind that door? What's behind you?

- Cryptid AU: with the whole burning hair thing on Tango, another explanation for why no one questions it. That's just Hermitcraft, people just assume he either royally messed up a redstone machine, or succeeded completely, you never know with Tango. Or maybe they think they're sleep deprived. They haven't slept in a while, Bdubs has been reminding them to do so. What were they doing? Maybe they should go home instead. Whatever they were doing can probably be done later. What were they doing?

- @/the-royal-bat-snake

- If joe is a changing then he is some kind of fae folk or as the irish and the Scots call them "the good neighbours" he could like anything, from a human, a small man, like knee height or a small green impish or goblin esque creature. Also changlings were the very old fae folk, not just the babies (humma women were stolen to be nurse maids cus fae folk cant make milk, also stolen to be mistresses) I know a lot of irish faerie lore so if you want to know anymore

- @/whatschooldoesntteachyou

#hcraft #hermitcraftheadcanons #hermitcraft #hermitblr #mod shade #au raffle #cryptid au #hermitcraft server

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