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bopbopstyles · 4 years ago

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10. Emerson

SERIES RATING: M (sex)

CHAPTER WORD COUNT: 9.8k

MASTERLIST | INSPO TAG

Y/N promised herself she would never date a musician. It was her one rule–her only rule, actually–when it came to dating. But then, Harry Styles rolled into her life and asked her to break it, just this once. And this is what happened.

a/n: this is the last chapter of The Only Exception, and honestly, i never thought it would come. s/o to @bfharry and @havethetimeofyourstyles for helping me with dad!harry concepts! thank you to everyone who reblogged and loved my two little angels - i love them so much and hope you enjoyed their journey as much as i did! concepts for them are always open - i’m definitely not ready to let go of dad!harry. slide into my DMs and share your thoughts!

pls reblog to spread the word about only exception! 🥰

The final weeks before Emerson arrived were a flurry of activity. Y/N went on maternity leave, much to her dismay and Harry’s joy because he got to spend all day with her, every day. They finished the nursery off, finished their respective parenting books and compared notes, and did buckets of research on what to expect at the hospital. Harry, being Harry, ended up worming his way into helping Hanna and Jamie plan the baby shower, saying that if it was going to be at their house he deserved to have at least some part in planning it.

If he was being honest, he mainly did it to distract himself from the anxiety that seemed to plague him every time he woke up in the morning and rolled over and saw Y/N’s extremely pregnant belly. It wasn’t necessarily the anxiety about being a dad, that he could figure out, it was the anxiety about her giving birth. He had stayed up one night stalking a Reddit page that started out as advice for soon-to-be-dads, but ended up devolving into horror stories of things gone wrong. There were even a couple where the woman had died, which had Harry immediately shutting his computer, trying to get the thought of Y/N dying in childbirth out of his mind.

But he couldn’t. He rolled over every possible outcome of the birth, even the extreme ones of losing either her or their little Peanut, who he hadn’t quite adjusted to thinking about as Emerson yet. Anne hadn’t been much help at calming his nerves, even though he knew she was saying all the right things. The problem was that he wasn’t being rational, that he was letting his mind run rampant, and the only way to solve that, Harry knew, was to focus it on something. A goal.

Which led him to the baby shower. He had basically forced Hanna and Jamie to let him help, which he was a bit ashamed of, but the planning actually helped. Thinking through decorations and guest lists and party games and food and playlists, it quieted his mind enough to let his anxiety subside for most of the day. Now they only took over when Y/N fell asleep and he laid awake, watching her sleep and staring at her belly in awe.

Those moments of anxiety and awe were, coincidentally, the same moments in which he ended up thinking about proposing to her.

He loved Y/N more than any other woman he had ever known, he knew that much for sure. She challenged him in ways he loved, made him work to keep her around, and cared for him in a way he had never experienced before. Somehow she knew what he needed before he ever asked—the touches, words, reminders that put his mind and body at ease. Loving her was so fucking easy that it scared him a bit.

And then there was their little Peanut, Emerson, who was already the love of his life. The time he spent singing to her belly, talking to him with his body nestled between her legs, pressing kisses to where he kicked her, it made his heart practically burst. Harry had always wanted to be a father, and even though this wasn’t how he had planned it, it made no difference to him. It was still the best thing that had ever happened to him. She was the best thing that had ever happened to him.

He wanted them to be a family, a proper family in a traditional sort of way. And he knew that marriage didn’t make a family, that it was love and time and effort that created one, but that didn’t mean he wanted to marry her any less. He wanted her to have his name, the same last name Emerson would have. He wanted to watch her walk down the aisle in a beautiful white gown in the church in Holmes Chapel he’d spent years in. He wanted their child to throw rose petals ahead of her. He wanted to say his weddings vows to her, to slide a ring on her finger, to kiss her when it was all said and done. He wanted to spend the rest of his life loving her.

He didn’t necessarily know when he decided he wanted to propose to her, which night exactly, or what moment he knew in his heart that if he didn’t he would regret it for the rest of his life. He’d been thinking about it off and on since she told him she was pregnant and it got stronger when she moved into his house and made it her permanent address. When she came on tour and he saw how easily she fell into his world every single day. When she had a group text chat with Anne and Gemma where they bullied him and talked about the baby and politics all in the same conversation. When he got home and he felt like he could finally breathe again, because he was with her.

He was fully set on the idea a week into being home, and that was when he went rummaging through his attic for the box of things Anne had given him of his grandmother’s. Specifically, he was looking for a ring—one that had been her wedding ring, and she had given him as something to remember her by, or use for his own marriage. When he found it, he knew it was perfect for her—simple silver with vines etched into the band, and one clear diamond. Y/N was an understated person, never too flashy, and even though Harry could afford an expensive ring, he knew it wouldn’t mean nearly as much to her as this one would.

When it came to the question of when he would propose, he decided to wait. She was too stressed as it was, with Emerson on the way, and it wasn’t like she was going anywhere. He would wait until things had settled down, until he had the ability to do something special for her. He didn’t want to rush it in any way, shape, or form. So instead, he kept the ring tucked into the back of his sock drawer, ready for when the moment arrived.

Until that time, though, he would have to satisfy himself with the simple moments of loving her. And when they were all sat in their backyard, streamers and lanterns decorating the space, their closest friends and family sitting around them at tables and chairs, that was one of those moments. She was talking Anne and Gemma, who had flown in for the birth—which was only a handful of days away—a grin on her face so wide he wondered if her cheeks hurt. Her hair tumbled down her back in waves, her eyes glowed with joy, and the soft pink lipstick she had selected made him want to kiss every inch of her face. She was in a white summer midi dress and a pair of comfortable sandals, and he didn’t know if she had ever looked more beautiful.

“Harry!” His name pulled him out of his trance. She was beckoning him over, and he stood from his chair where he had been vaguely talking to Jeff and some of his other friends, and moved towards her immediately.

“Hey love,” he said, pressing a kiss to the top of her head. He wrapped his arms around her shoulders, his chest pressed to her back, and rest his chin on her head.

Her hand moved to cup his forearm, a simple touch that made him smile. “Anne and Gem were just wondering if there was going to be cake.”

“For the record,” Gemma said, “we did not specifically ask about cake. We asked generally about the likelihood of there being dessert.”

Harry laughed at his sister and simplicity of the request. “Yeah, there’s cake. Got. Your favorite kind,” he said squeezing Y/N’s shoulder.

She tipped her head up and looked at him, eager eyes finding his. “Really?”

“Mhm,” he murmured. “Cookies and cream ice cream cake is in the freezer.”

She yelped in excitement, pressing a kiss to his lips chastely. “Love you.”

“Just for the cake?”

She shrugged. “And other stuff.” Anne and Gemma started laughing, the sound intermingling with the chirp of the birds and soft sounds of the playlist he had spent hours creating. They had played baby shower games led by Hanna, which had left them all in hysterics, some people had gone for a swim, and they’d had a cookout. It was simple, easy, and exactly what Y/N had requested. There was pile of gifts inside that she declined to open in front of the group, since neither she nor Harry were the kind of people who liked to show off their gifts at parties. One of the many things they shared.

Now, the party was winding down, the sun was setting, and he knew people would begin preparing to head out. It was probably time for cake. “Ready for it?” He asked Y/N.

“Yes!” She followed him inside, where the air conditioning was a welcome relief from the warm summer day. Her hand slipped into his and thumbed along the inside of his wrist, a smile drifting onto his face from the small action.

“Do you like the party?” He asked when they reached the kitchen.

She leaned against the counter and watched him make his way over the fridge. “Yeah. I don’t know why I was so against the idea at first—it’s been nice having everyone here. And to celebrate little Peanut.” She hadn’t adjusted to the name yet either, so they had stuck to calling their unborn child Peanut, leaving the name for when they arrived in the world.

“Me too.” He pulled open their freezer and found the cake easily—he’d gotten it done at their favorite gelato shop and it had cost an absurd amount for a cake, but he didn’t mind. The reaction on her face when he lifted the top and she saw the cake was worth double the price. “Like it?”

Her arms came to wrap around his waist, tugging him into her. “You know, sometimes you just blow me away a bit.”

He mirrored her position, arms twined around her waist. Her head was tucked into the crook of his neck, and he leaned his head against hers, savoring the simplicity and calmness of the moment. He’d started doing it lately, knowing they would be few and far between. “So do you.”

Footsteps sounded on the wood floors of their house, and he turned his head to see Trisha, her mother, in the living room. “Sorry,” she said with an embarrassed smile. “Came in for another drink.”

Y/N pulled away, much to his dismay, and when to the fridge for another sparkling water for her mother. “Can you take the plates out too, Mom? We’re doing cake.” She handed her mother a stack of plates and flatware, bustling around the kitchen to find the rest of the napkins from earlier.

“Is that ice cream cake?” Trisha asked, sliding the stack into her arms. “You know her well, Harry.”

That he did. Was quite proud of it, too. The three of them made their way out to the rest of the party, Harry holding the cake and the napkins clasped in Y/N’s hand. Everyone turned at the sound of the sliding door and excitedly joined the couple around the cake, a jabber of conversation about how gorgeous the cake was and how delicious it looked. Anne asked if it was going to melt and Harry chuckled in response, before cutting into the cake. Y/N got the first slice, and Harry watched as the ice cream melted on her lips ever so slightly, a sticky mess coating her skin a bit. He restrained the desire to lick at her skin knowing she would hate him doing that in front of everyone. Instead, he stood next to her with his own piece of cake, an arm around her waist and her head nestled against his shoulder as their friends and families chatted.

“How are long are you staying?” Hanna asked Anne and Gemma, taking a bite of the cake.

“A few weeks,” Anne replied. “I might stay longer, but Gem has work to get back to.”

“If you need someplace to stay, I’ve got spare rooms,” Peter piped up.

Anne gave Peter a thankful smile. “We might take you up on that. Hotels can get a bit tiresome.”

“Mum, you can alway stay with us,” Harry told her for the millionth time. Anne had insisted upon her and Gemma staying in a hotel until the baby was born, wanting to give Y/N and him as much solo time as possible before Emerson arrived. Harry and Y/N had both fought her on it, telling her she was welcome, but she was sure on the decision. Trisha had ended up deciding to stay in the same hotel, echoing Anne’s desire to let them have their space before the birth, so the two had gotten a bit closer. Trish had even become Anne and Gemma’s personal chauffeur, since they didn’t have a car.

Anne waved at the thought. “No, I want you two to have your space. We’ll be here after the birth, but until then, savor these last moments together.”

Y/N pinched at Harry’s hip and he yelped, giving her a glare. She was giggling into his arm though, a playful smile on her face, so she let it slide. “As much as I’d love to have family around, I can’t say I’m mad.”

Everyone laughed at that, and Harry rubbed a circle on her skin, enjoying her relaxed nature, the anxiety that had been plaguing her recently disappearing. It wasn’t just him who had been stressed lately about the quickly approaching birth—Y/N had been having vivid stress dreams that usually ended up waking him up, her body sweating next to him.

Harry wasn’t mad that his family wasn’t staying with them either, because frankly after being apart from Y/N for so long, he didn’t want anyone invading their space unless absolutely necessary. (Exceptions would obviously be made for their child.) He just wanted to touch her all the fucking time, just pet her skin or kiss up and down her neck, and sometimes he kissed her hard against the wall just because he could. As they stood next to each other, her hands gripping the back of his striped t-shirt and his fingers brushing up and down her spine, he wanted everyone to leave so he could love on her as much as he wanted.

When Y/N started to yawn, Harry knew it was time to wrap up the party. He did the honors of ushering their guests out, knowing she was too kind to ever pressure people to leave, but Harry had no problem forcing people to leave his home so that he could be alone with her. Peter lingered behind to help pick up the yard while Y/N and Harry washed dishes in the kitchen. Fleetwood Mac flowed from the speaker and they moved around one another in ease, comments about the party passed between them. Harry pinched her hip when she scooted past him and she swatted his ass with a towel in retaliation, a playful smile directed his way.

“Love you,” she murmured against his shoulder, nosing at the shirt stretched across his body. His hands were in soapy water as he washed a plate so he couldn’t touch her, which he felt was a crime, but he settled for just turning his head and kissing her temple.

“Love you too,” he replied. “Now get back to drying, you’re messing up our flow.” She giggled and he handed her a plate, which she wiped dry. Her father came inside with the rest of the decorations and items that had been left outside, and Harry directed him to put them in the garage. Going through all of them was on his to-do list for tomorrow, but he didn’t have the energy to do it now. After that, Peter showed himself out, promising to call Harry the next day to talk about the song he had mentioned wanting to work through with him. Harry had never thought having a talented musician as a father-in-law of sorts would be so nice, but now that he had Peter he loved being able to give him a call and get his opinion on a mix or the bridge of a song he was working on.

The dishes were finished, and Harry pulled the plug in the sink to let the soapy water drain before wiping his hands on a towel and turning to Y/N. “I was thinking a late night swim might be nice,” he said, tucking a strand of her hair behind her ear.

“I don’t want to try and find a suit that fits,” Y/N said with a frown, hand brushing over her belly.

Harry would personally have favored if she was naked all the time. “Don’t need one, love. C’mon—I’ll turn on the fairy lights you love.”

She smiled and nodded, letting him lead her to outside to the porch. Outside, it was dark, moonlight illuminating the outline of the large oak trees in the backyard, the shed with the lawnmower Harry had been meaning to replace, and a vegetable garden they had put in before tour. Hanna had tended to it while they were gone, and then it was Y/N’s responsibility, and she had done a good job—they had little tomatoes and beans and broccoli and a variety of herbs, which Harry loved cooking with. A few feet past the patio was the pool, the concrete surrounding it strewn with reclining chairs where they loved to sunbathe in the afternoons, Harry running sunblock over Y/N’s stretched skin.

When his feet met the concrete of the patio, Harry tugged his shirt off, then his pants and briefs, before turning to look at Y/N. She was struggling with the tie at the back of her dress, and Harry motioned for her to turn, his fingers deftly pulling the ties loose and then tugging her zipper down her back. “Beautiful,” he murmured, pressing a series of kisses to her spine that had her shivering. He helped her out of her undergarments, and then she stood before him bathed in moonlight and the soft glow of the fairy lights that twinkled around them. Her full breasts, a hand rubbing over her belly where their child rested. She looked almost ethereal, a vision, a dream. “Come on, love,” he said, walking towards the pool.

He dropped into the water without a pause, the cool temperature washing over his skin deliciously. When he poked his head up to the top of to the water, he found Y/N sitting on the edge of the pool, her feet dangling in. “It’s cold,” she said, kicking some water into his face.

Harry moved towards her, pulled like magnets, and snatched her feet. Littering her leg with kisses and leaving her giggling for him, he found a spot between her knees, his chest pressed to the side of the pool. “Feels good, though.” His hands swept over her belly, and he nosed at her bare skin. “Want to go for a swim, Peanut? Think it’ll feel good, but Mumma isn’t so sure.”

“God, you’re so annoying,” Y/N said, pushing at his chest so she could slide into the pool. She landed on the bottom and immediately reached for Harry, wrapping her arms around his shoulders. “Did you have fun today?”

Harry pulls her thighs up so he can hold her close, and her fingers scratch at the nape of his neck. “I did. You were so happy.”

“Not just about my happiness, you mush. You seemed pretty happy too.”

This was true, but the sight of Y/N happy made him happy. “I was, baby,” he reassured her. She pressed her lips to his, one of love and care, and then pulled away, resting her head on his shoulder. He just held her close, adoring the feeling of her bare skin on his, their child nestled between them, basking in the glow that was loving her.

Harry dipped the tongs into the pasta water, grabbing at a piece and pulling it out of the hot water to test its readiness. Y/N was standing next to him, tossing the salad they had put together, and trying to hold herself together. The contractions had been coming and going all day, pain that radiated up her spine as she clenched her jaw and tried to continue her activities. They’d called the midwife the minute they started and she had been there ever since, helping Y/N with breathing patterns and guiding her into different positions to keep the pain from overwhelming her. They hadn’t been regular, though, so they were still at home, waiting for the contractions to speed up or even out.

“Another one?” Harry asked, peeking over at her, her hands clenching the edge of the counter as another contraction rolled through her body. She nodded shakily, and Harry ran his hand across her back. “Breathe for me love, remember? In, out, even—there you go.” Once he was breathing more evenly, he went to pour out the pasta, wanting to make sure Y/N had strength for the delivery that was for sure coming.

It might have seemed unusual that Harry and Y/N were cooking dinner—the midwife had sure thought so, but it felt good to have something for Y/N to focus her mind on, even if it was just putting together a salad and watching Harry cook. It was better than doing uncomfortable exercises in the backyard to try get the labor moving along. They’d tried her squatting, her waddling around, her doing loud yells, and none of it had worked. She was exhausted.

All of a sudden, a dull pain lashed through her and she dropped the tongs to the counter with a clatter, the metal hitting the granite countertops.“Fuckkk,” Y/N groaned, clenching the edge of the counter and trying to breathe in and out.

“That was faster,” Harry said, panic rising inside of him. He looked to the midwife, who was on her feet and moving towards them from where she had been sitting on the couch reading a book. “Right?”

“Yes,” the midwife, Sarah, told them both, coming to Y/N’s side. “Breathe for me, Y/N, okay? I need to start counting them. Can you do that with me?”

Harry had completely forgotten about dinner as he counted with Sarah and Y/N, timing the distance between her contractions. Y/N was panting so hard and all Harry could do was grip her hand when she reached out for him, and hold it and watch in sheer horror at the pain in her face. It had been like this all day, but this—this looked different somehow, more intense. Her fingers were squeezing his palm so tightly he thought she might cut off circulation.

Together, they managed to move Y/N to the couch, where she could be more comfortable. Her contractions were coming faster and more frequent over the next hour, dinner completely forgotten—Harry could tell and Sarah agreed. “Harry,” Sarah said, breaking her focus on Y/N to look at him, “is the hospital bag ready?”

It had been ready for two weeks—he’d done it the day after he had gotten home and checked it almost every day to make sure they had everything. “Yes,” he said.

“Go get it.”

Y/N’s eyes widened, and Harry pressed a kiss to her hand before scampering upstairs to the nursery to grab it. He took the stairs two at a time, eager not to be away from her for too long. When he reached the nursery, he looked around and thought to himself that the next time he would be there, his little Emerson would be coming home.

Downstairs, Sarah was counting with Y/N again, talking her through the contractions and the pain. When Harry reappeared, she waved him over before taking out her phone. “Take her,” she told him. “I’m going to call the hospital.”

“It’s time?” Y/N looked up in panic, before another contraction made her moan, her fingers squeezing Harry’s. “Oh my god, H, it’s happening.”

Harry scooted next to her on the couch and pressed a kiss to her sweaty brow. “It’s happening, love. How does it feel?”

“Like hell,” she said, teeth clenched. “They said it hurts but fuck this is horrible. Why do women have to experience this? Fuck, Emerson, baby, please calm down.”

Sarah was talking to the hospital in the background, giving them information on Y/N’s contractions and Harry was only half listening, mostly focusing on Y/N’s eyes, which were darting around the room. “Got the bag ready,” he said, trying to distract her. “We’ve got everything we need. Plenty of gas in the car, too—checked this morning.” He did it every morning now, just to be sure that if it happened suddenly, he would be ready to drive.

“What—fuck—about dinner?”

Harry just chuckled, brushing her hair back. “I’ll have Gemma come by and clean up. Don’t give a shit about the pasta getting stuck to the bottom of the pan.”

She leaned into Harry’s neck and exhaled sharply, clutching his leg. “I don’t know if I’m ever going to have another kid,” she said, “because this is fucking torture.”

Before Harry could reply, Sarah turned to them. “They’re waiting for you—let’s go you two! Time to meet little Emerson!”

Harry drove like a calm, collected, race car driver on the roads. Trying to go as fast as possible without getting pulled over, jumpy because every time Y/N moaned he freaked out a bit, just praying he would get the hospital soon so that they could give her something for the pain. At one point he had brought up natural birth and she had given a look like he made him immediately shut up and never bring it up again. Now that he was seeing labor in person, he fully understood why.

He pulled into the hospital, following Sarah’s instructions for what entrance to use, and put the car into park. People were rushing to the car with a wheelchair which he knew Y/N would hate, but she needed it. He let them get her out of the car before parking it horribly and racing after them, hospital thrown over his shoulder and his phone in his hand. He was having a baby, he thought to himself after the door slid shut behind and he walked alongside Y/N as she was wheeled down the hall. He was going to be a dad today.

“I don’t know if I can do it,” Y/N panted, holding onto Harry as she looked at the doctors around her. They’d given her an epidural, which helped, but she was fucking exhausted. She’d been pushing in time with her contractions for two hours and her body felt like it was on its last limb. Even though she couldn’t feel the pain, she could feel the ache in her muscles and she just wanted to sleep for hours. But she was dilated to ten centimeters and it was time to do the final pushes. She was in the home stretch.

“Come on, love,” Harry said, brushing at her forehead. “You’re so close, yeah? You can do it, baby.” His eyes bore into hers, the hazel irises overwhelming her. The look of love and pride and utter awe written all over his features.

“I need you to push for me, Y/N,” her doctor said. She could see him between her legs, where he was looking up at her. “Emerson is ready to meet you both.”

She nodded, taking a deep breath, and then she pushed as hard as she could, bearing down on Harry’s hand so hard she thought she might break it, but he didn’t say anything. Just held her tight and repeated encouraging words, telling her how good she was doing, how she could do it, how they were so close to meeting their baby.

“I can see the head,” the doctor informed her when Y/N took a breath. “Another one—okay? You’re doing great.”

She looked at Harry, the eyes pricking both of their eyes at the prospect of meeting little Emerson finally. And then she shut her eyes, took a deep breath, and pushed with every fiber of her being, desperately wanting to meet her child and let this be over. She screamed—she could hear it in her ears as her body tensed, toes and fingers curling.

And then she heard the most beautiful sound in the world.

The cry of a baby.

“Oh,” Harry gasped, kissing her hand in his, making her look at him. He was crying in the chair next to her, tears rolling down his face, utterly overwhelmed. “You did it, baby.”

“It’s a girl,” the doctor said, giving them a wide smile.

A girl. “Emmy,” she said, the nickname claiming its place in her heart immediately.

“A little girl,” Harry murmured in awe, and she couldn’t stop the tears rolling down her face at the sight of him, overwhelmed with love for her and their child.

The doctor pulled away slightly from her and looked to Harry. “Do you want to cut the cord, Dad?”

Y/N’s heart lurched at the doctor calling Harry “Dad”—the kind that utterly took her breath away. Harry was moving in an instant, going to where the doctor was situated. “Harry, what does she look like?”

Harry’s curly hair bounced as he looked from their child to her. “Pink,” he said simply, a giggle leaving his lips. “Beautiful.” Then she heard a snip and the umbilical cord was cut, and the doctor was handing her baby to Harry.

She wanted to see her child, but the next thing she knew she was being told to keep pushing, that she had to deliver the placenta, so she focused on the task at hand. She was worn out, but she reminded herself that she sooner she did this, the sooner she could hold Emerson in her arms. When she was done, she sagged into the hospital bed and stretched out her arms to Harry, who was swaying slightly, their child held close in his arms.

Y/N looked at her child in awe. Ten fingers and ten toes, two little green eyes that stared up at her when Harry set her against her chest, a tiny nose and adorable lips that puckered and stretched. Emerson. Her baby, her child, the person who she loved with her entire soul from the moment she discovered her existence. “Hi, Emerson,” she whispered, brushing at her face.

Harry knelt next to Y/N, kissing her forehead. “She has your nose.”

“How in the world can you tell?”

He shrugged. “Just can.”

She looked up at Harry and found his eyes, the one their daughter shared. “I love you.”

He kissed her lips, the love that flowed between them overpowering every other feeling in her her body. “I love you so much, Y/N. Feel like the luckiest man in the world—I’ve got you and I’ve got little Emmy.” Then, he was nudging at Emerson’s hand with his forefinger, and Y/N watched in amazement as her daughter opened her little fingers and clasped Harry’s finger, as if to know it was her father.

She was a true wonder, and Y/N couldn’t look at anything else.

TWO YEARS LATER

Harry set his daughter down on the counter, her chubby thighs nestled against his torso. She had on a pair of overalls and a baby blue shirt, a pair of little baby Converse that Harry had absolutely lost it over when he saw them. He had discovered an obsession with baby clothes and had turned Emerson into his personal model, despite Y/N’s annoyance at the size of her daughter’s closet.

“Need to put your hair up, Ems, otherwise it’s going to get all in the food,” he told her, pulling at the hair ties he now always had on his wrist for moments like these. His daughter’s dark brown curls that matched his own were long enough to where they had to be tied up, otherwise they would end up tangled in seconds.

Emerson looked up at him, her hazel eyes peeking up at him under long eyelashes. Y/N always joked that she was a spitting image of Harry, and he couldn’t help but admit it was true. He adored it—seeing his child, who was so obviously his, but with a personality that was so Y/N it made him laugh sometimes. Her stubbornness, the way she insisted on her own way, even her little opinions that were starting to peek out as her vocabulary grew. It drove Y/N bonkers, but Harry loved discovering more and more of his child.

He swept her hair into a ponytail, something he had become adept at in the two years of being a father. As he tugged the hair tie around her locks, Emmy’s hands made their way to Harry’s hair, which had grown longer recently. Y/N had been working up a storm since she was promoted last year, and Harry had taken on the role of full-time stay at home Dad with glee, but it did mean things like shaving and hair cuts had fallen by the wayside. He didn’t mind though, and Y/N didn’t seem to either, from the way she nuzzled her face against his bit of a beard, and tugged on the ends of his hair when they made love.

Emerson had a similar obsession with Harry’s hair, another thing she shared with her mother, and it always made Harry burst with love whenever his daughter played with his hair. “Papa’s hair is soft,” she mumbled as he tightened the hair tie so none would fall out. “Like mine!”

He poked his daughter on the nose, loving how her eyes scrunched up. “That it is, my little angel. Ready to cook with Papa?”

“Yes!” Her hands reached for him to pick her up, which he did, swinging her onto his hip as he moved to her designated spot on the floor next to where he would be set up by the stove. It was their nightly routine—as Harry cooked dinner for them all, Emerson played with the wooden cooking toys that Harry had bought for her, babbling at his feet. It kept her entertained while he got dinner done, just in time for when Y/N got home from work.

He situated her on the floor and pulled out her box of toys from the cabinet, squatting down to unload the wooden bowls, spoons, and fake foods inside. Emerson grabbed at each of them, telling him the name, as he had taught her. “Bowl, spoon, cheese!” She said, looking at him with wide eyes to see if she got it right.

“Good job,” he said, kissing her forehead before standing to his full height. “Where’s your apron?”

“My apron!” Emerson babbled with a gasp, grabbing at her clothes.

Harry chuckled at the sight before grabbing her yellow apron that Harris had sewn her for her second birthday, something far too gorgeous for a two-year-old, but Emerson was utterly obsessed, so Harry didn’t make a fuss about it. “Apron!” She said when he tied it around her neck and her little waist. “Papa, spoon!” She was holding her wooden spoon up at him and Harry smiled at his daughter, her love for their little traditions making his heart soar.

He grabbed his own spoon from the cup on the counter, bending down and bumping it against his daughter’s mini version. “Spoons unite!” He said, the sound of his daughter’s giggles filling his ears. “What do you want to listen to while we cook, bubs?”

“Hmm.” Emerson dropped the block of cheese and some nondescript meat into a bowl and twirled them around with her spoon. “Papa!”

“Me?” Recently Emerson had become obsessed with his music, constantly requesting for him to play it. Fine Line had come out just a few months ago and she loved Watermelon Sugar, which Y/N utterly hated since she knew what it was about, but Harry found it hilarious. “Which one?”

“Watamelon Suga!” She said, struggling with her Rs. She bounced up and down on her knees in excitement until he was hooking up the music over the speakers. When it came on, she immediately began bopping her head back and forth to the music and trying to sing, which Harry found positively adorable.

He started to make dinner, chopping up vegetables for a stir-fry that he knew Emerson liked. He had been trying to help her branch out into new foods, which Y/N kept on reminding him was really unnecessary considering she was barely two years old, but he liked seeing her little face screw up when she didn’t like something or eyes widen when she liked it. They sang along to his songs, and every so often he’d peek down and check on Emmy, who was happily pretend cooking with her toys, making all sorts of things. Sometimes he would ask what she was making and she would reply with any foods that came to mind that she had heard him mention, even if it was completely incorrect. One time she said she was making a cake, but she had a broccoli and some grapes in the bowl, and he tried not to crack up at the sight.

“Papa!” He looked down at his daughter, her spoon raised at him. “Look at my spoon!”

He chuckled, bending down to take a picture of her holding her spoon up triumphantly. “You just love your spoon, huh?” He snapped the photo and posted it on his Close Friends story on Instagram, which was 90% photos of Emerson doing random things throughout the day.

“Papa’s spoon is bigger,” she said, struggling with the last syllable of bigger, but making it through.

“It is. But yours is pink, which I like a lot.”

Emerson examined her spoon, and then lifted it to Harry, rubbing her nose on the back of her tiny hand. “You can use it, Papa!”

His heart melted at his daughter’s generosity, which was overflowing. She was always offering for him to borrow her toys or to let other kids to use her things, and he loved her kind soul. It was another thing that came from Y/N, he was sure of it, since he hated sharing as a kid. “Thank you, bubs, but I’m fine with mine.” He kissed her hand and she smiled at him, before going back to her cooking.

Fifteen minutes later, he heard the garage door open and close, and Emerson must have heard it too because she on her feet immediately, teetering out of the kitchen in the direction of the garage. “Mama!” She screamed, and Harry smiled at the sound of Y/N’s voice, her soft reply of “Hello, pumpkin,” and the soft laughter of his daughter cascading through the house.

“Smells good,” she said, and Harry’s eyes caught hers as she entered the kitchen, Emerson resting on her hip. Her little head was on Y/N’s shoulder, each hand scrunched in her work shirt, eyes flickering over Harry. “Stir fry?”

Harry gave his love a kiss on the forehead. “Mhm, know how much my two girls love it.”

“That we do,” Y/N replied, hiking Emmy up a bit on her hip. “Did you have fun with Papa today, bubs?”

“Yes!” Emerson replied, picking her head up and smiling at them both, her little baby teeth showing. “We went to park and made new friends. Charlie, right, Papa?”

He nodded, brushing a hand across Y/N’s shoulders and rubbing into the tense muscle there. She lolled her head back on his arm and smiled at him, a silent thank you passing between them. “Then we got some lunch at our favorite spot, and took a swim in the pool.”

“I kicked Papa!” Emerson said excitedly to her mother, and she laughed in response.

“Did you get him all wet?” Emerson nodded, and Y/N brushed her hand to Harry’s side, the touch warming him immediately. “Sounds like fun. Maybe we can have a pool day tomorrow?”

It was Saturday, the whole family’s favorite day. Emerson got both of her parents all day, and Y/N and Harry usually had date night, Emerson going to her grandpa’s house for the night. It was a tradition they’d had since she was born, and one that had become incredible important to them. “I think that sounds great,” Harry said. “Ems, can you help Mama get dressed for dinner?”

“Yes!” Emerson loved watching her mother get dressed and Harry firmly believed that she was inheriting his love of clothes from the way she loved to run her hands over the materials.

Y/N chuckled and pressed a kiss to Harry’s cheek before she walked out of the kitchen, their daughter on her hip. She chatted to Emerson about her day, asking questions about what she and Harry had done in her absence and answering her daughter’s questions. Harry got dinner finished up, putting the stir fry into bowls for him and Y/N and a smaller amount into a bowl for Emerson, cutting it up into smaller bites so she could eat it more easily. He placed them on the table and filled up a glass of wine for both Y/N and himself, before switching the music to some nice relaxing jazz while they ate.

Y/N reappeared in one of Harry’s old tour shirts and sweatpants, an excited Emerson trailing after her on the stairs. She was scooting down them hesitantly, something she had recently become obsessed with doing and Y/N and Harry were letting her do while supervised. Harry was terrified of her cracking her head open on the stairs, but Y/N told him it was important for her to develop confidence in her ability to move around, so he tried to let it go.

“Ready for dinner, Ems?” He asked, picking her up and settling her into her high chair. She nodded and he handed her little fork and her bowl, before settling into his seat next to her. Y/N sat down in the seat opposite him, reaching out for her wine glass and taking a long sip. “How was work, love?”

“Long,” she replied, tucking her napkin into her lap and picking up her fork. “I got that presentation done I was working on. I think we’re planning to bring someone else on, which would be a huge help.”

“When’s that going to be?” Harry took a bite of his food before reaching over and helping Emerson to get some food onto her fork, noticing she was struggling.

Y/N sighed, and Harry looked up at her, noticing the exhaustion in her eyes. “Soon hopefully. There’s way too much on my plate and there’s just no way I can get it all done.”

“I hope they figure it out soon,” he told her, reaching across the table and squeezing her hand. “Want to have a bath after dinner? I can do nighttime tonight.”

“You sure? You’ve been with her all day—“

“Hush,” Harry cut her off with a smile. “You know I love doing it. Want you to relax, okay?”

She nodded, lifting their clasped hands so she could press a kiss to his knuckles. “Thank you.”

“Of course, love. Emmy and I have a book to finish, right, bubs?”

Emerson nodded, and then launched into a mildly botched description of the book they had started reading last night, one about a girl detective that she really liked. Harry was passionate about reading to her every night, as it helped her settle down and developed quite a healthy imagination that he loved. They chatted for the rest of dinner about what they wanted to do the following day, deciding that Harry was going to make biscuits, Emerson’s favorite, and have a pool day, since it was quickly becoming too cool outside to have a proper pool day. Harry loved that about California, though, that it was warm year round so even in September they could be outside in the sun and he could work on teaching Emerson how to swim. Y/N wanted her to be comfortable in the water so they could feel safer with her around the pool, so they had been working on teaching her how to get in and out of the pool how to kick and how to breathe. So far, she was a natural, a little fish, Y/N called her.

After dinner, Harry helped Emerson into her pajamas after changing her diaper—they were still struggling with potty training—and watched her as she brushed her teeth triumphantly in the mirror. Then, they recited their nightly affirmations, thinking of something they were thankful of and something they liked about themselves. Harry had implemented it from the moment Emerson had started learning to talk, and now it was a nightly ritual for them.

“I’m thankful for Papa,” Emerson said, making Harry smile as he stood behind her in the mirror, the resemblance between them startling. “I like that I was nice to Charlie. What about you, Papa?”

“I’m thankful for Emerson and Mama,” he told her, tickling her sides and making her giggle, “and I like that I was able to help Mama tonight when she was stressed.”

Emerson turned around, gave her father a peck on the cheek, and lifted her arms for him to carry her to bed. She wrapped her arms and legs around him, clinging to him like a koala, and Harry walked her to her bed, pushing aside the princess netting she had fallen in love with at Target one day and had nearly thrown a tantrum about before they bought it. She snuggled into his side as he curled up next to her, grabbing the book from the bedside table to continue reading. She rested her head on his chest, eyes on the book that he had opened for them to read, and he sighed from the feeling of his daughter nestled into him. He loved the moments like this of being a father, the quiet ones of just him and Emerson, the world falling away from him.

Being a dad was his proudest achievement.

Once Emerson was asleep, he got up, tucking her in and making sure her nightlight was on before shutting the door gently behind him. Down the hall, Y/N was waiting for him, tucked into bed with a book she was reading.

“Hi you,” he said, shutting their door behind him, the wood creaking softly as he leaned against it. “Missed you today.”

She looked up, taking in the sight of the man she loved standing next to the door. His hair as all askew from her daughter’s pillow and his voice was a bit raw from reading, clothes creased from a long day with a two-year-old with plenty of energy. But she loved him like this, so obviously a father, taking every part of his role with a smile on his face. “You say that every night.”

“That’s because I miss you every day,” he said, moving towards her. “Now come here, wanna hold my girl.”

But Y/N waved him away. “Go get ready for bed. Don’t want you to have to get up later.”

“Fine,” Harry said, rolling his eyes at her, but followed her directions anyways. While he brushed his teeth and washed his face, she chatted about work and asked questions about Emerson’s day, wanting to know what she had missed out on. As much as she loved working, she hated being away from her family all day. After he had stripped out of his clothes, just his briefs hanging on his hips, he pulled back the duvet and pulled Y/N into his side. “That better?”

She rolled on top of him, her book long forgotten on their bedside table. “Much.” Her knees came up on either side of his hips and she tucked her hands into his hair, tugging softly as he pulled him into a kiss. She lost herself in the taste of his lips, a home she loved returning to every day, a home she never wanted to leave. His fingers trailed down her body, rucking up the edge of the shirt she wore and smoothing across her back. She shivered under his touch and he smirked, pulling her bottom lip between his teeth and making her pant his name.

“Thought you were tired,” he mumbled, brushing his lips down her neck in short kisses that had her panting in his ear.

“Not too tired for this,” she replied, and when she rolled her hips over his, Harry groaned, hot and heavy into her neck. She wanted him always, it seemed, unable to get enough of the way he touched her, even after a child and plenty of sleepless nights, she still found the energy to love on him. It filled her up, the way he brushed her skin with his kisses and showed her how much he appreciated her.

“Gonna kill me, love.” His hands, bare from his usual rings, pressed into her hips, anchoring her against him. “Ya sure? Don’t have to.”

But Y/N had other plans, wiggling free from his grip and kissing a line down his chest. Harry was mumbling her name as she moved, tugging at her skin as she disappeared under the comforter and pulled his briefs down his legs. He pushed at the duvet, desperate to keep his eyes on hers, and Y/N loved it, wanting nothing more than to see his face as she drew pleasure from his body. “Want to show you how thankful I am for you,” she told him, before spitting on his dick and pumping the spit in her hand.

“Fuck.” Harry gripped the sheets to try and hold himself together. Nighttime was her favorite time of day, because it was when she got him all to herself, Emerson far enough down the hall that they could do whatever they liked without waking her up most times. They’d had some close calls, but so far they were blessed with a daughter who loved to sleep and they’d made sure to put her on a sleep cycle early on so she was trained to sleep through the night by now.

Y/N tugged her hand up and down him a few times, before licking a stripe up the underside of him. Harry pushed at her hair, tugging it into a ponytail so he could see her face as she did it and the light from their bedside tables illuminating his face. His wide eyes, the same ones their daughter had, stared back at her, blown wide with desire, his tongue licking across his lip as he watched her move. “Wanna taste you,” she said, pressing a kiss to his tip.

“God,” Harry mumbled, bucking his hips up into her touch and she loved the control she had over him. “Can do anything you want to me, baby.”

Without waiting, her lips were around his tip, taking him into her mouth and Harry moaned, fingers digging into the sheets from the sensation of being inside her. He was heavy in her mouth and she loved how he brushed her throat and panted her name, barely holding himself together and she licked at him. She knew everything that set him off after years of being together and used it all. Scratched at his thighs, hummed over him, batted her eyelashes at him, mumbled his name.

She knew Harry wasn’t going to last, though, he never did. Far preferred being inside of her to coming in her mouth and told her often. “Love,” he said, reaching for her and trying to pull her off of him. “Need you.”

She decided to play with him a bit, wind him up just because she could. “Where do you need me?”

He whined, pulling at her hair to try and get her to move up him, a desperation overtaking his body. “Around me. Need your pussy.”

Those were the magic words for her. She climbed up him, capturing his lips in hers for a passionate kiss that had them grinding against each other like kids. He was hard against her clit, the wetness of both of their desire mixing and allowing him to slide easily between her folds. When he bumped her clit with his tip she whimpered, and Harry lost it, unable to wait any longer.

He flipped them, Y/N yelping as she landed on her back, a soft giggle escaping her lips as he settled over her. “Little tease,” he scolded with a playful smile, sucking on her neck, the soft spot that always had her pawing at his skin.

“H,” she panted, pushing her hips up to his. “Please.”

She was on an IUD, had been since they’d started having sex after Emerson was born. Neither of them were in the market for another kid right now, as much as they loved Emmy, she was plenty of a handful for both of them. They wanted to wait longer, get their life together and more settled before they had the conversation about more kids, although it definitely wasn’t off the table. Especially since Y/N had said yes when he had bent down on one knee, a year after Emerson was born, unable to wait any longer. For now, though, they were in no rush to marry, just enjoying building a life together, raising Emmy, and being together. Maybe it hadn’t been the life either of them expected, but now that they were living it there was no turning back.

Y/N pushed his hair off his forehead and tugged at the ends, pulling his head to hers so she could pull him into a kiss that left them both breathless. “H, fuck me, please.”

“Good God,” he panted against her lips. “One day you truly are going to kill me.” With that, he moved slightly and pressed his tip to her slit, both of them groaning as he pushed inside. It had been a few days, the longest they usually went since they, even after a child, couldn’t get enough of each other. Y/N quickly adjusted to his size, because after four years with Harry she couldn’t remember what it was even like to be with someone else—he was so good to her, always.

Her legs twined around his waist and pulled him deeper into her, and Harry moaned her name into her neck as he sunk in and then pulled back out. He leaned on his elbows on either side of her face, his head falling so his forehead knocked against hers when he pushed into her, but neither of them minded. They loved being this close, so close she could feel the beads on sweat on his chest and hear his every exhale in her ears. He was deep, deliciously so, and when he nudged the back of her walls, finding that spot that drive her wild she arched her back into him. “Feel so good,” she murmured, attaching her lips to the column of his neck, sponging kisses down it. “H, fuck fuck fuck—“ He drove into her, deeper than before, and the impact had her scratching lines down his back, red angry marks left in their trail that he would admire in the morning and Y/N would blush at the sight of.

“Yeah? Like feeling me inside of you?” He nudged at her nose, turning her head so he could kiss underneath her earlobe, a soft spot that left her keening in his touch. “Made for me, you know. Just…made for me and only me. You’re mine, love—fuck—mine forever. Can’t wait to marry you, Y/N, please,” he spat when she fluttered around him, walls pulling him deep. He stuttered inside of her, barely inches from tumbling over the edge, but he wanted her to come first, always wanted her to finish first. “Close for me, baby?”

She nodded frantically, pulling at his biceps to keep her steady and he thrusted into her at a fast pace, their bed squeaking slightly. “Want you to come, too,” she told him, lips finding his in a quick kiss.

“I’ll come when you do,” he promised, because he could never hold himself together when she came around him. Had never been able to and would never be able to. “Come for me, love.” His words were rough in her ears, murmuring and begging for her.

With another thrust and a sloppy kiss to her nipples, she was coming, panting his name in breaths that left her gasping for air. Harry finished right after her, slamming into her and shuddering against her body as he fell, sweaty skin kissing sweaty skin. He rested his head on her chest and her fingers combed through his hair, brushing at the locks just like he loved. “When do you want to get married?” She asked him after a few minutes of lying there.

He picked his head up and looked at her and she saw the sparkle in his eyes that she adored. “Tomorrow. I don’t care, Y/N, as long as it’s to you.”

She kissed his forehead and pushed a curl back. “I want to do it in Holmes Chapel, like we talked about. Or maybe Italy. In the Spring? Before Emmy is three.”

He slid his arms under her and pulled her up so she was sitting in his lap, her legs around his hips, and he grinned at her. “Yeah? You wanna marry me in the Spring?”

“As long as it’s to you,” she said, and Harry chuckled into her skin, before capturing her lips in his, just as sweet as the first time he tasted them. “I’m so glad I made an exception for you.” Her words were a quiet confession, and one that Harry had heard multiple times over the past four years of being with her, but ones that never ceased to make him love her more.

“Your only exception,” he mumbled, kisses dusting across her cheeks, showering her in his affection.

She nodded, holding his cheeks in hers, eyes boring into his, the ones he dreamed of when he was gone. “My only exception.”

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#harry styles fan fiction #harry styles fic #harry styles x reader #harry styles one shot #harry styles smut #harry styles drabble #harry styles writing #sorry this was late!!!!!! i was ft my friend and hanging out with my mom #WHOOPSIE!#BUT SHE'S HERE NOW!!!!!

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starkidpotty · 4 years ago

Text

The Good Side [DLM]

You and Draco lament on what could’ve been and what would’ve been fun had things been different.

Pairing: Draco Malfoy x Reader

Words: ~2.1k

A/N: I took a lot of liberties writing Draco out, so I’m sorry if the characterization is a little whack. (any draco writers out there...advice is welcome pls message huhu) i hope u guys enjoy it nonetheless <3

The sun beat down on the northern part of Diagon Alley that day. It was the transitional period between summer and spring, where the weather hit just the right spot and everyone was out to enjoy their time. It was quite the contrast to what you and Draco had come to discuss at Florean Fortescue’s Ice Cream Shop.

Draco was sat across from you, people-watching while scooping up his raspberry ice cream. You decided against ice cream that day, with your hands folded gracefully on your lap. You and he would occasionally steal glances at each other, trying to urge each other to start the conversation. Whether it was pride or shyness that hindered you two from talking, you were not sure. The heat was starting to get to you, as you were now starting to get annoyed with the silence you two didn’t need to share.

“How’s the MACUSA and Ministry effort?” Draco starts, as though he were aware of the irritation building inside you. He was always one step ahead of you, a skill he still proved to have been proficient at even though it had been years after you two parted ways.

“Same old, same old–only I spearhead it now.” You answer him quite proudly. He stops picking at his ice cream to flash a smile your way.

“I always told you’d get it, didn’t I? The Ministry would be fools to let such talent go to waste.”

A heavy pause blankets you both. The air between you two was a tripe mixture of nostalgia and despondency. As uncomfortable as it was, neither of you made moves to fuel the conversation further. Draco picks at his cup again, and you fixate on a wizard carrying a stack of books making his way out of Flourish and Blott’s.

You take a deep breath in, “Alright, I think it’s time to save us the awkwardness, yeah?”

Draco puts down his ice cream cup, turning his body and chair to face you. He perches his folded hands on the table and looks at you intently. Your body is still facing the street the ice cream shop overlooks, but your head is turned to look back at him.

“I need the ring back.” He states his purpose simply.

“Then, you’ll get it back. Need not worry, Draco.” You grab your purse and shuffle through its contents until you finally palm the velvet ring box. You gently place the box on the table.

“Perfect.” Draco says to you, as he opens the ring box, examining the emerald ring inside.

“When are you planning on asking Astoria?” You ask Draco, trying to make your tone as neutral as possible.

“All I can say is soon. I just know I’m going to marry her.”

You won’t lie to yourself and say that there isn’t a small part of you that finds this deeply saddening. Draco and your’s relationship was good, to say the least–as good as it gets as childhood acquaintances to Slytherin housemates to lovers. All firsts were shared with each other: first kiss, first time, first I love you’s. You watched him as he received the Dark mark, held his hand through Lucius’ trial after the war, and watched each other in the early stages of your respective careers. It wasn’t the beginning and middle that was terrible so much as the end. There was never any big event that had caused either of you to fall out of love. There was no third party, no betrayal, no selfishness, no greed. It was quiet–that was the best way you could describe it–the ending crept up on the both of you, sleeping on your chests until the weight became too heavy to shudder away. You looked at each other and no longer sought each other out in the future. The breakup itself was amicable and neutral, with the both of you accepting that you had merely outgrown each other, despite having grown together. On some nights, imagining what could’ve been sent you down two paths, where you either resented each other or fell back in together. It bothers you sometimes to think of the latter, but you know well enough it was going to be the former.

You smile sweetly at Draco in response, looking back down at your hands as you were at a loss for words.

“I’m glad you found someone, I really am.” You say as you finally unknot the tie your tongue was in.

Draco looks around, as though making sure no one would be able to hear the next sentence to fall out of his mouth. “D’you ever think we could’ve made it to that point?”

“You did propose to me, hence why we’re here.” You chuckle lightly and continue, “but, I think we would’ve grown to hate each other, if I’m being honest, Draco.”

Draco squints to look up at the sun, trying to muster a response.

You look back at him with your mouth twisted into a half-smile, brows furrowed, mildly amused that he asked. He finally turns to you and catches your expression, making him smile slightly.

“Why do you think that?” Draco asks you intently.

“Well, I think we just became different people. It wasn’t anyone’s fault.”

One of the things Draco had to learn was choosing his words carefully before speaking them. He was never keen on being heedful with what he’d say, as evidenced by his formative years at Hogwarts, even when he was talking to you. However, his early years in litigation forced him to catch his tongue before it made any unfavorable comment on stakeholders during a trial. His eyes were shut in deep concentration, trying to map out what to say next to you.

“What happened between us?” Draco asks you. “I still ask myself that a lot sometimes. Not for anything, but it’s just hard for me to understand. It just happened upon us, quickly too might I add.”

You take a few moments to ponder, to craft out your dialogue, “It wasn’t that anything happened, Draco. It was moreso that nothing happened at all.”

“Did we grow to hate each other, is that it?” Draco tries hard to hide his classic schoolboy sneer, but fails.

“Draco, I could never hate you. You of all people should know that.” You huff out, suddenly frustrated at his tone.

“Sorry, [Y/N], that didn’t come out quite right.”

“S’alright, I understand.”

Draco curses himself for the drastic change in mood, he didn’t mean for it to happen.

“It’s just strange to think, I suppose.” He asks again, more careful now with his tone.

“What is?” You turn your head to face him. Suddenly, the years you spent apart are splayed on his face in developing forehead wrinkles and tired eyes. You are studying the new features on his face intently, making sure that this is the Draco you had spent more than two decades with.

“Weren’t we always sure of what was to come to both of us? As though we had so much control over the next few years of our lives?”

You breathe in and close your eyes before you answer. In a flash, you are taken back to nights spent in the Slytherin common room, talking hypothetical situations with Draco–what you’d do if in the event the hospital made a mistake and you were having twins instead of one child, what if you became a quidditch star and he your number #1 fan instead of working for the Ministry, what if you both ran off to an island off the coast of Greece and raised sheep and never came back?

You reply to him solemnly, “I think the universe is funny that way, don’t you think?”

“Merlin, you sound like you belong with the quacks in the Department of Mysteries.”

“Shut up, it’s a saying muggles like to parrot, thought it would go nicely with the tone of conversation.”

Draco pauses and continues, “Didn’t we always have our own sense of time? That extended into our plans, who our hypothetical kids would be. It’s insane to me how that changed so fast,”

“I agree.” You tell him, “We were supposed to marry each other, for Merlin’s sake!”

Draco sighs, looking off to the side.

You never held any ill-intent with how you and Draco ended, but now you realize that was just you. Not once had you considered that he was hurting more than you due to the peaceful nature of the breakup. It was criminally naive of you to have thought Draco was just as at peace as you after ending a decade-long relationship.

“Well, do you hate me, Draco?” You ask him at your realization.

“More than 10 years together and, what? Four years apart, you think I could hate you?” Draco asks you, almost offended at your question. “You know the answer to that, [Y/N].”

“Were you ever angry at me? For how,” You pause trying to look for the term to best describe, “calm I was when I told you I wanted to leave?”

Draco’s practiced this conversation so many times in his head, but he still takes a moment to process the words he wants to use to convey his emotions. “For a time, yes. I was angry with you. But not the kind of angry I usually am. It was an anger that made me question so many things.”

“I had just always thought time was an excellent indicator of a strong relationship, I mean, 10 years? Would you question it then? A decade? So, to put it simply, I was angry–angry that time wasn’t enough to salvage what we had. But, I think that was naivety talking. This is in no offense to you at all, I cherish our time together so much so. But, Astoria? It’s as right as anything, and not even time could tell me how to feel about her.”

You look at Draco in awe, wondering when he had crossed the line from boy to man in the four years you spent apart. Draco was always smart, no doubt. But, this Draco sat in front of you–carefully choosing his words and explaining his emotions–it was entirely new. You reached over to hold Draco’s hand, but not in the way you and he would hold hands years ago. It was in an I’m proud of how far you’ve grown, type of way. Draco was taken aback, but understood quickly, always privy to your emotions, whether they were tacit or overt. He squeezed your hand back.

“[Y/N], I need you to know that you are such a huge part of who I am today, I can never discount that. Ever.” Draco says to you, your hand still in his. “We’ve done so much good for each other, we really have.”

“We really have, Draco. Astoria’s so lucky, she has to know that.”

Draco’s famous smirk makes an appearance on his mouth, “I’m damn well sure she knows.”

You throw your head back in laughter, letting go of his hand, “Merlin, there you are again–cocky boy from Slytherin.”

“Cocky boy from the litigation department, I’d rather hear that.”

You both laugh at each other like no time has passed. Like both of you were back in the Slytherin common room after bedtime talking about all the dumb things two teenagers thought were important at the time. You two catch up a little bit more, further detailing your efforts in dating and at the ministry (with the former being quite futile), and he diving into how he and Astoria came to be. You and Draco filled in the blanks from the last few years until the conversation boils down to a halt. You say your goodbyes, hugging each other, wishing each other well and walking toward opposite ends of Diagon Alley.

As much as you thought this a heavy task to fulfill, you left the conversation with a light heart and even lighter shoulders. There is relief you haven’t felt since you left Draco. The relationship, as good as it was, was best left how it ended. No mourning, no lamenting could rewrite the ending or the years succeeding it in the same way no regret or guilt could change the years prior to it. All you knew was the good that you and Draco left in the spaces between you two.

masterlist here | requests open

#draco malfoy x reader #draco malfoy x y/n #draco malfoy #draco lucius malfoy #draco malfoy fanfiction #draco imagine #draco malfoy oneshot #harry potter #harry potter fanfiction

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yarichinbokutoclub · 4 years ago

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The train was packed. Who knew so many people would be milling about at 1 o’clock on a Wednesday afternoon. You hated it, being around so many people, but with your job at the museum you had learned to tolerate the crowds. This, however, was different, you were crammed in a tiny cabin with God knows how many other people. Don’t these people have work to do? It is a week day after all. So, to put things lightly, your day did not start off on a good note.

You were, however, looking forward to the Café’s opening. It was your light at the end of the tunnel so to speak. With the café being a bit of a hole in the wall and lacking any media presence you knew it would not attract much of a crowd. The perfect place to work on your botany journal (basically just a journal with different plant clippings and facts and drawings. Think Hiccup’s journal in HTYD or Deku’s journal in BNHA.) You were really looking forward to the new pages you could add now that the museum had gotten in some new flora, that of course they let you be the first to see. The journal was a great help when you were giving tours as you wanted to be as thorough as possible in hopes that you might inspire a bright young mind, like what had happened to you so many years ago.

The train finally came to a stop and you couldn’t have been more grateful. You got off as quickly as possible and stopped to take a deep breath, really appreciating the fresh air and the open space around you. After you got your bearings, you adjusted your outfit (gotta look good in case there are any cute boys at the café ;)) and got on your way. The café was only about 5 blocks from the train station so it didn’t take you long to get there at all. You turned off the main street onto a little side one, almost like an alley, and towards the end you saw the café.

The vibe was immaculate. It was everything you could have wished for and more, no crowds and books everywhere, what’s not to love? Taking a deep breath to prepare yourself, you pushed open the front door. A small bell above you jingled to signal your arrival and you were immediately met with not only the eyes of your best friend, Yachi, but also a pair of wide yellow eyes which seemed to be taking in your appearance. Blushing, you tried not to think much of it and made your way to the counter and greeted the cute barista that you knew so well. “Yachi!!! You look so adorable in your apron.” you exclaimed upon getting to the counter, mindful of your volume of course. “Y/n, you actually came!” Yachi replied with a big grin.

“I couldn’t pass up the opportunity to check this place out and bug you on your first day. ;P Speaking of, how has it been, any rude customers yet?”

“It’s been a lot slower than we would have hoped but everyone has been really polite, I honestly couldn’t have asked for a better first day. Anyways, I should probably get back to work. What can I get you? I’ll bring it to your table when it’s ready.”

Yachi, always the positive one and a hard worker too. Scanning over the menu you quickly make your decision. “I’ll have a hot caramel latte and a blueberry muffin! Oh an make sure you do something extra cute for the latte art!!”

“Only the best for you, y/n! I’ll have it right out!”

With that you made your way to a table near a window so you could attempt to people watch without being near any of the other patrons. It was a quiet corner just the way you liked. However, you could still feel those big yellow eyes on you. Looking up you finally made eye contact with the man who had been staring you down and boy was he cute. You could tell he was athletic too, giving him a curt smile you turned back to your table and pulled out your journal. Maybe this could be where you find your wattpad romance after all. Or so you thought.

Yachi brought out your order and you got to journaling about the newest flower in the museum’s greenhouse, the Cytandra Vittata or Candy-Striped Violet. Particularly excited about this one due to the flower’s incredible beauty and unique petals, you made sure to put extra care into the pages. You were having a great time, the coffee was amazing and the atmosphere was perfect for getting your work done. That is until HE decided to stop staring at you and go back to reading his manga. Whatever it was, it must have been incredibly interesting because he was… engrossed to say the least.

Not only did he seem to zone everything around him out, forgetting where he was, but he also felt the need to verbally or physically react to just about everything that was happening in his childish story. He was annoying, sure, but not loud enough to where he could be considered “disturbing the peace” even though he was certainly disturbing YOUR peace. Every two seconds there was an “oooh” or an “ahhhh” maybe even a “WHAT?!” thrown in there. Your patience was certainly running thin and you made sure to glare at him a few times, even hushing him along with the other patrons, but he just was not getting the hint. The next page must have had a huge plot twist or surprise thrown in there because this response, it was the most dramatic. Abruptly, he stood up out of his chair, knocking it to the ground in the process. His eyes were even bigger than before (was that even possible?) and he yelled (yes, this time it was a yell). His exact words were “NO!!! IT WAS HER BROTHER ALL ALONG?! YOU HAVE GOT TO BE KIDDING ME!!!!.” Spoilers, am I right?

At this you had had enough. Sure, you didn’t like confrontation, but it didn’t seem like anyone else was going to step in and you knew Yachi would be a nervous wreck if she had to. So, you marched over to his table with the most aggressive scowl you think you have ever sported on your face.

“Are you trying to piss off everyone in the store?! Because you’re doing a really good job if that was your plan!” You screamed at the stranger’s face.

He looked up at you confusion written all over his face. “…Huh?” he questioned.

“Are you trying to tell me you have no idea what you’ve been doing for the past 30 minutes?? Because I don’t buy it. You’re being incredibly loud and rude and you need to stop. This is not the place for that. Some people are trying to get work down and you’re making it incredibly difficult. If you wanna read your manga fine do it but do it quietly. Save the theatrics for your bedroom.” you weren’t trying to be mean but you couldn’t help it. Once you start talking you can’t stop yourself and this time you went a little too far. His hair seemed to deflate, something you certainly didn’t miss because was that even possible?

“I’m sorry miss, I didn’t realize I was being so loud I’ll try to quiet down.” He replied with a huge pout on his face.

“Thank you.” You replied and promptly turned on your heels to go back to the violet you were so excited to study.

Everything was going smoothly now, sure you didn’t mean to be that harsh and you could’ve asked him nicely but your anger took over and you couldn’t help it, though you did feel a bit bad. It certainly didn’t help that your day had started out as poorly as it did and you were so looking forward to the peace and quiet of the café, something that had been so rudely ripped away from you. Another 15 minutes passed by and the silence was amazing, you made some real progress in your journal, even completing a detailed sketch of the flower. After the 15 minutes was up however, the reactions started to seep back out from the yellow eyed man again. He seemed to be over his pouting now. His reactions, although much quieter this time were still quite annoying. You decided to ignore them though, thinking you had been a little too harsh the first time around, and hoping he just slipped up and will go back to being quiet. This, however, was not the case and the disruptions continued for another 10 minutes when you decided you better just leave. Fate is tricky and maybe you just weren’t fated to be at the café today, meaning you’ll try again tomorrow after work. You said your goodbyes to Yachi and made your way to the train station, looking forward to the peace and quiet of your apartment and the soft cuddles of your two cats, Kyo and Tohru.

What you didn’t know, was that Yachi, deciding it was time to be bold, went over to the loud and excitable customer. She decided it best, for business and for her own sanity, if she politely asked him to leave. And she did just that. The man apologized and made his way out of the café feeling a bit defeated but determined to come back again and next time hopefully not get kicked out.

fear & love

4. series of unfortunate events

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PLOT - y/n is in her first year of college at tokyo u., she has a great friend group, a fantastic internship, life is good… that is until she meets bokuto koutarou. this loud and brash volleyball star is about to turn y/n’s life upside down. the question is, will it be a good change or a bad one?

a/n - Im gonna be honest, not really loving this fic but I am pretty happy with how this chapter turned out, as always any advice is welcomed and pls if there's anything you want to see happen just ask!

taglist (open, send an ask) - @dumbb1tc4 @fleurishnblotts@coffeeaddictedmay@bigchaosenergy @noliamallpayne @evan-rose @bokutowo

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twoidiotwriters1 · 4 years ago

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Written In The Stars XCV (Harry Potter xF!Oc)

A/N: TODAY IS THE DAY I SEND MY LAST ESSAY PLS PRAY SO I CAN BE FREE -Danny

Words: 3,601

Series’ Masterlist

Previous Chapter // Next Chapter

Chapter Thirty: Through a Darker Standpoint.

"Is something on your mind, dear girl?" Dumbledore asked attentively.

Mel was writing down their last lesson before going back to her common room. Dumbledore told her this was the final class they'd be having that trimester, and she was deep in thought, her eyes fixed on Fawkes.

"No..." She said. "Well, yes..."

"You want to ask me–?"

"Did you mean it when you say you'd help me to become an animagus?" She looked away from the bird and directly into his eyes. "Or were you just humouring me?"

"Was I humouring you when I agreed to give you lessons?"

"No," She pointed to her notes. "Clearly..."

"I'll help with your education as animagus as much as I'm helping you with this," Dumbledore looked at her over his glasses. "Patience is a virtue, and learning will often require for you to wait."

"I know that it's just..." She shook her head. "I don't know, maybe I'm exhausted. I could use a break."

"I hope you find it refreshing. Anything else?"

Mel gave up, she closed her notebook and put down her quill.

"Is the third task harder than the others?"

"I see," He smiled. "Harry's done a remarkable job, Mel. I wouldn't worry about how things will turn out, the task, once over, it's over for good."

"But are you sure?"

There was a glint in Dumbledore's eyes that gave away his amusement. "You care a lot, don't you?"

"Some may say more than what's necessary..." She grumbled.

"There's no such thing as caring too much about a loved one's safety. I would've done anything to keep my sister safe. Wanting our family to be happy is the main reason why we do the impossible, isn't it? You more than anyone should know, dear girl."

There was always that uneasy feeling questioning how much was she truly prepared to face danger. One day, there was going to be no Albus Dumbledore to tell her what to do, just her and her skills. Mel could only hope that'd be enough.

"You two are to go down to the Quidditch field tonight at nine o'clock," McGonagall told them after the last lesson of the week. "Mr Bagman will be there to tell the champions about the third task."

When Harry and Mel made their way to the entrance, Cedric and Erick appeared from their respective passages. The latter threw a knowing smile their way that she ignored.

"What d'you reckon it's going to be?" Cedric asked Harry as they all went together to the Quidditch Field. "Fleur keeps going on about underground tunnels; she reckons we've got to find treasure."

"That wouldn't be too bad," Harry shrugged.

"Guess?" Erick nudged her arm playfully.

"Your brother moved out?" She ventured.

"I wish! No, my grandad wrote to me yesterday. He's coming to see the third task!"

"Oh... I didn't know others could come to see it!"

"I don't know if it's exactly allowed," Erick looked ahead, frowning a little. "He used his 'this is my last chance' speech, Dumbledore welcomed him with open arms."

"What've they done to it?" They heard Cedric's voice ahead, Mel finally looked toward the field and let out a tiny gasp.

The Quidditch field was no longer smooth and flat. It looked as though somebody had been building long, low walls all over it that twisted and crisscrossed in every direction.

"They're hedges!" said Harry, bending to examine the nearest one.

"Hello, there!" called a cheery voice.

"If you ask me," The corner of Erick's lips were up, holding back a smirk. "This is an improvement."

Mel hushed him before Harry could hear him, the boy was a huge Quidditch fan and still didn't like Flint, so Erick had to be careful.

Ludo Bagman waved at them to get closer, Krum and Fleur were there. As they grew nearer Mel noticed the radiant smile Fleur was giving Harry. She knew this was mostly thanks to Harry's act during the second task, Fleur was showing a new attitude of camaraderie that Mel thought it suited her. If she could keep it up and not complain about Hogwarts and their food, Mel figured she could even be a great friend.

"Well, what d'you think?" Bagman inquired as they finally reached them. "Growing nicely, aren't they? Give them a month and Hagrid'll have them twenty feet high. Don't worry, you'll have your Quidditch field back to normal once the task is over!" Erick gave a quiet 'hurray' that sounded nothing but sarcastic, Harry heard it. "Now, I imagine you can guess what we're making here?"

"Maze," Krum replied lowly.

"That's right! A maze. The third task's really very straightforward. The Triwizard Cup will be placed in the center of the maze. The first champion to touch it will receive full marks."

"We seemply 'ave to get through the maze?" said Fleur.

"There will be obstacles. Hagrid is providing a number of creatures... then there will be spells that must be broken... all that sort of thing, you know. Now, the champions who are leading on points will get a head start into the maze. Then Mr Krum will enter... then Miss Delacour. But you'll all be in with a fighting chance, depending on how well you get past the obstacles. Should be fun, eh?"

Harry, Mel and Erick shared a knowing look, Hagrid's creatures didn't sound fun at all when you were acquainted with them.

"Very well... if you haven't got any questions, we'll go back up to the castle, shall we, it's a bit chilly..."

"I have one," Mel said. "How are we going to keep a record on the champions, I mean, what if one of them gets hurt?"

"Members of the school's staff, as well as Mr Flint and you, will be helping around the maze, there's no use on explaining everything now but rest assured, Miss Dumbledore. There won't be any major risks."

Bagman attempted once again to have a private word with Harry, but Krum got there first. Mel came into a halt a few feet away, as well as Bagman and Erick.

"Could I haff a vord?" She heard Krum ask.

"Yeah, all right," said Harry, his brow raising a little and glancing at her for just a second.

"Vill you valk vith me?"

"Okay..."

"I'll wait for you, Harry, shall I?" Bagman frowned, a little nervous.

"No, it's okay, Mr Bagman, I think I can find the castle on my own, thanks," said Harry, trying to keep as a straight face, then turned to Mel. "Really. You and Flint can keep going too, I'll see you back in the tower."

Mel nodded, Erick grabbed her by the arm gently and pulled her along.

"C'mon," He said quietly. "Probably just looking for relationship advice..."

"From Harry?" Mel snorted, her arm slipping from the boy's grip. "Why would he do that? No one knows about us, not even Hermione so I don't see how Krum would–"

"'Oh, I have a question Mr Bagman, how will I know my boyfriend's safe?'" Erick mocked her. "'How can I physically walk away without having a crisis?'"

"That's not how I sound! And that was a fair question!"

"All I'm saying is that everyone knows, or at least suspects, that there's something between you two. You look insufferable happy all the time, I guess Krum wants to know how you do it."

"Because we're friends," Mel rolled her eyes at the expression on the boy's face. "I mean, we were best friends before we... I don't know, before we became this."

"Before you started dating," Erick nodded.

"I don't know if we're dating," Mel replied stiffly. "We don't go out alone, and when we do we have to be discrete so Skeeter can't have a reliable source. According to Harry, this is so I don't get myself in danger as it happened to Hermione. According to me... well, I can't help but think it's a bit like in my novels, you know? Keeping things between us kind of makes it more romantical."

"I think I puked a little in my mouth," He scrunched up his nose.

"Hey, you asked!" Mel argued. "What were you expecting me to say? 'Oh yeah, kissing Harry is the most boring thing I've ever done in my life'..."

"I can't take that image out of my mind now, thank you."

"Stop being so whiny," She protested. "Is not my fault that you–"

She stopped short, knowing it was a sensitive subject and it could cause a big fight if not treated carefully.

"That I what?" He halted. "Say it."

Instead of finishing her sentence, Mel sat down upon the front steps of the castle's entrance and sighed. "I'm tired of arguing with you, Flint. If I'm honest, I'm sick of having to walk on my tiptoes and hold back my comments every time we speak."

"This is you holding back?"

"I mean whenever we talk about you," She raised a brow. "I don't have a problem telling you to sod off, but when it's about you it's like you don't want me to know anything. I almost had to force out your Grandad's name out of your mouth!"

"I don't understand. What is your problem?"

"Every wrong thing I say you immediately take it as an opportunity to run off and cut the conversation short. You know everything about me, why are you still acting like I'm not a safe person to talk to?"

For a moment he did look like he was about to ignore her question. His shoulders tensed and he looked away, reluctant to speak. Then, after ten awful seconds, he sat down beside her and let out a quiet groan.

"Think I liked you better when you were tinier and afraid of me..."

"I wasn't afraid," She stated. "I did think you were a bit intimidating, though..."

"S'not that I don't trust you. I've never... I'm not used to talking about what upsets me and when you insist that I should tell you– I... I get frustrated. It's exasperating, not knowing how to express my feelings."

"You, at a loss of words?" Mel smiled shyly.

"Yeah, shocking," He chuckled. "I made bad some decisions and now I'm surrounded by a bunch of gits. I know you want to see it as this endless world of possibilities, that if we try hard enough and live our lives how we want to, no one can hurt us– but is not like that... not for the most of us. You want to live in a fairytale, but all we have is this," He gestured around vaguely. "You and I, and a few people that don't think we're crazy."

"We should be allowed to live as we want, do what we want, and be with who we love! I don't get it– why is it so hard for the rest to understand?" Mel replied heatedly.

Erick stared at her with a funny look in his eyes. "You know, I did tell Joseph you're the smartest witch in school. I know you are, but sometimes your emotions stop you from being even better."

"You sound like my uncle," She scoffed. "I know I'm fickle and impulsive–"

"I didn't mean it like that," He interrupted. "You try to see everything through a gentle perspective, which makes it impossible for you to have a clear view... growing up sucks Mel, I know it as much as you do," He stood up and offered his hand, "we have to do it anyway though, and if you do it, you'll see how hard it's to choose based on how you feel instead of what's suitable."

The Slytherin gazed at her with a hint of something she'd never seen before, almost... pitiful. Mel took his hand and stood up, she felt disheartened by their talk, but there was no easy way to convince Erick to change his mind and there was certainly no way she would change hers. She figured that eventually, one of them would be proven wrong.

It was hard to see this nostalgic version of Erick as the same cold, sarcastic boy she was used to, it was hard to look into his eyes and see how much he looked like he was thousands of years older.

"You and Anne..." She mentioned as they reached the marble staircase. "You've made up your mind, then?"

"There's nothing to decide," He shrugged. "She'll do her life and I'll do mine, if I find a way to be together I'll take it but if not... I'm not going to regret a thing."

Mel wanted to say that he couldn't be sure about that but decided to keep it for herself, there'd been enough discouraging words that night for the both of them, and she didn't want to give him a reason to keep going.

Just as she was reaching the second floor Harry came rushing towards her, he didn't slow down when he saw her, just yelled 'Mr. Crouch appeared!' and kept going.

Mel ran after him without hesitation, she and Harry reached Dumbledore's office and yelled the password, however, it looked like it had changed since the last time she and Dumbledore held her last lesson because the gargoyle didn't move at all.

"C'mon!" Harry yelled in exasperation, running a hand through his hair.

"Harry, what's wrong?" She asked in alarm.

"The staffroom," He said in quiet realization, turning around and starting to run once more.

They were midway to the stairs when Snape found them.

"POTTER! DUMBLEDORE!" He ordered them to get closer and so they did. "What are you doing here?"

"I need to see Professor Dumbledore!" Harry, gasping for air. "It's Mr Crouch... he's just turned up... he's in the forest... he's asking —"

"What is this rubbish?" said Snape. "What are you talking about?"

He looked at Mel for an explanation but Mel didn't know what was happening either, Harry insisted in an angry tone.

"Mr Crouch! From the Ministry! He's ill or something — he's in the forest, he wants to see Dumbledore! Just give me the password up to —"

"The headmaster is busy," said Snape, smiling as if denying Harry of a simple favour was making him happier than it should.

"I've got to tell Dumbledore!"

"Didn't you hear me, Potter?"

"Look," Harry continued, almost growling, "Crouch isn't right — he's — he's out of his mind — he says he wants to warn —"

"Is there a problem?" Dumbledore appeared from behind Snape, looking at them curiously.

"Professor! Mr Crouch is here — he's down in the forest, he wants to speak to you!"

"Lead the way," Dumbledore said.

Mel was thankful Dumbledore was Headmaster and not Snape, even if she didn't know what was going on, she figured Snape would rather see them in distress than tend their emergencies.

"What did Mr Crouch say, Harry?" Dumbledore asked as they approached the staircase again.

"Said he wants to warn you... said he's done something terrible... he mentioned his son... and Bertha Jorkins... and — and Voldemort... something about Voldemort getting stronger..."

"Indeed," Dumbledore walked faster alongside them.

"He's not acting normally, he doesn't seem to know where he is. He keeps talking like he thinks Percy Weasley's there, and then he changes and says he needs to see you... I left him with Viktor Krum."

"You did?" He sounded almost alarmed now. "Do you know if anybody else saw Mr Crouch?"

"No, Krum and I were talking, Mr Bagman had just finished telling us about the third task so Mel and Erick were long gone as well, Krum and I stayed behind, and then we saw Mr Crouch coming out of the forest —"

"Where are they?" Dumbledore looked blindly in the darkness.

"Over here," Harry guided them to the edge of the forest. He called out for Viktor, but no one answered. "They were here... They were definitely somewhere around here..."

He sounded worried and scared, Mel got closer as Dumbledore conjured light from his wand and looked around. There was a body there. Mel stopped breathing for a moment while Harry and Dumbledore reached forward to check on Krum.

"Stunned," Dumbledore said simply.

"Should I go and get someone? Madam Pomfrey?"

"No," Dumbledore turned to look at her and said. "Stay here. Wake him up."

He pointed it in the direction of Hagrid's cabin with his wand. The faint shape of a phoenix made its way through the air as Mel kneeled next to Krum and whispered 'Rennervate'. Krum tried to sit up, but Dumbledore put a hand on his shoulder to keep him on the grass.

"He attacked me! The old madman attacked me! I vos looking around to see vare Potter had gone and he attacked from behind!"

"Lie still for a moment," Dumbledore ordered gently.

Hagrid appeared, carrying his crossbow.

"Professor Dumbledore! Mel! Harry — what the — ?"

"Hagrid, I need you to fetch Professor Karkaroff. His student has been attacked. When you've done that, kindly alert Professor Moody —"

"No need, Dumbledore," said a voice from behind them. "I'm here. Damn leg! Would've been here quicker... what's happened? Snape said something about Crouch —"

"Crouch?"

"Karkaroff, please, Hagrid!" Dumbledore repeated.

"Oh yeah... right y'are, Professor..."

"I don't know where Barty Crouch is," Dumbledore told Moody, "but it is essential that we find him."

"I'm onto it," Moody headed off into the forest.

Mel stayed next to Krum and checked the back of his head for injuries, fortunately, he was completely fine, just a little dizzy from the fall.

"What is this?" Karkaroff walked up to them, his eyes blazing with anger. "What's going on?"

"I vos attacked!" said Krum. "Mr Crouch or votever his name —"

"Crouch attacked you? Crouch attacked you? The Triwizard judge?"

"Igor..."

"Treachery! It is a plot! You and your Ministry of Magic have lured me here under false pretenses, Dumbledore! This is not an equal competition! First you sneak Potter into the tournament, though he is underage! Now one of your Ministry friends attempts to put my champion out of action! I smell double-dealing and corruption in this whole affair, and you, Dumbledore, you, with your talk of closer international wizarding links, of rebuilding old ties, of forgetting old differences — here's what I think of you!"

Karkaroff spat onto the ground at Dumbledore's feet. In one swift movement, Hagrid seized the front of Karkaroff's furs, lifted him into the air, and slammed him against a nearby tree.

"Apologize!" Hagrid snarled as Karkaroff gasped for breath, Hagrid's massive fist at his throat, his feet dangling in midair.

"Hagrid, no!" Dumbledore shouted, his eyes flashing.

Hagrid removed the hand pinning Karkaroff to the tree, and Karkaroff slid all the way down the trunk and slumped in a huddle at its roots; a few twigs and leaves showered down upon his head.

"Kindly escort Harry and Mel back up to the castle, Hagrid," Dumbledore told him sternly.

"Maybe I'd better stay here, Headmaster..." Hagrid said, glaring at Karkaroff.

"You will take them back to school, Hagrid. Take them right up to Gryffindor Tower. And I want you two to stay there. Anything you might want to do — any owls you might want to send — they can wait until morning, do you understand me?"

"Er — yes," said Harry, staring at him.

Mel felt a bit of a chill run up her spine at the idea that her uncle could read their thoughts. Because she was certain that Harry had been planning to write Sirius about this.

"Very well," Dumbledore looked directly at her then. "You did a good job watching after Mr Krum, Mel. Now watch after yourself." She nodded, too shocked to speak against him, her nerves completely messed up after that experience.

"I'll leave Fang with yeh, Headmaster," Hagrid said. "Stay, Fang. C'mon, kids."

After a while walking in silence, Hagrid spoke up again.

"How dare he accuse Dumbledore. Like Dumbledore'd do anythin' like that. Like Dumbledore wanted you in the tournament in the firs' place. Worried! I dunno when I seen Dumbledore more worried than he's bin lately. An' you!" He turned to them angrily, they stepped back in surprise, Mel holding tightly onto Harry. "What were yeh doin', wanderin' off with ruddy Krum? He's from Durmstrang, Harry! Coulda jinxed yeh right there, couldn' he? Hasn' Moody taught yeh nothin'? 'Magine lettin' him lure yeh off on yer own —"

"Krum's all right!" He exclaimed. "He wasn't trying to jinx me, he just wanted to talk about Hermione —"

"I'll be havin' a few words with her, an' all," said Hagrid not listening. "The less you lot 'ave ter do with these foreigners, the happier yeh'll be. Yeh can' trust any of 'em."

"You were getting on all right with Madame Maxime," Harry said in a bad mood.

"Don' you talk ter me abou' her!" Hagrid yelled. When he saw the look on their faces, he lowered his voice. "I've got her number now! Tryin' ter get back in me good books, tryin' ter get me ter tell her what's comin' in the third task. Ha! You can' trust any of 'em!"

Harry and Mel shared a grim look without saying anything. He reached for the hand that was still firmly closed around his arm and held it, squeezing a bit to calm her down. It worked until they reached the tower, where Hagrid finally left them safe and sound. As soon as they were in Harry dragged her to where Ron and Hermione were sitting.

Next Chapter —>

Taglist.

@dee123ksha @vampiregirl1797 @siriuslysirius1107 @stardusthigh @mikariell95 @vernon-dursley @thesuitelifeofafangirl @tomshollandz @kylosleftbuttcheek @reverse-hxlland @bloodorangemoonlight @omiwashere @t-rexs-world

#twoidiots writing #hp fanfic #Harry Potter #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter xoc #WITT fic

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leverage-ot3 · 5 years ago

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notable moments from The Zanzibar Marketplace Job

leverage 2.12

Hardison: Two weeks in Tokyo. We'd have a great time.

Parker: What are we stealing?

Hardison: We don't steal anything. We'd be tourists.

Parker: Not following you

hardison: BE DOMESTIC WITH ME PLS

- - - - -

Waitress (puts down beer): There you go.

Eliot: Ahh. Thank you, sweetheart.

Waitress: Anytime.

(Nate kicks Eliot under the table)

Eliot: What? Really? What, I can't have a friend?

Nate: Join a softball team

me whenever eliot flirts with someone other than parker or hardison

- - - - -

Tara: You know he's drinking again.

Eliot: I'm not an idiot, Tara.

Tara: I was told this was a problem.

Eliot: The drinking is not a problem. It's a symptom

this!!!

also eliot’s hair braids are adorable

- - - - -

(Sterling walks into the bar behind Eliot, approaches table)

Nate: Eliot, I'm gonna ask you not to do anything violent.

Eliot: What? What are you talking about? I only use violence As a - as a - as an appropriate response.

Sterling: Hello, Nate.

(Eliot’s face turns murderous and he turns to punch Sterling in the face, then proceeds to throw him down on a table and continue punching him. The bartender moves to call the police, but Hardison stops him by passing him money, Parker watches enthusiastically)

Tara: And this is?

Nate: James sterling. We used to work together. Insurance.

Tara: He seems to rub Eliot the wrong way.

Nate: You think?

(Nate walks over to where Eliot is still beating Sterling, and now has him by the throat)

parker and hardison literally have heart eyes for eliot in this scene ??? ot3 ???

hardison bribing the bartender not to call the police? parker watching like she’s being turned on or something? eliot’s face right before he hears sterling’s voice? sterling hitting eliot with a stick? CHAOTIC

- - - - -

Tara: Okay. Is there any chance she took the egg?

Parker: No. Maggie's the most honest person we know. But besides that, she's okay.

parker adores maggie

- - - - -

Sterling: You live and work here?

Nate: Yeah.

Sterling: I like the old place better.

Hardison: Do not mention the old offices.

people that have no rights: sterling

- - - - -

they had a legit P I L E of passports ready ??? SO MANY

- - - - -

Tara: Okay, you cannot out-bureaucrat a former Soviet Union bureaucrat. These guys gamed the most corrupt system on earth for 50 years. Paperwork's not gonna cut it. They're used to trading favors, not forms.

- - - - -

Nate: I just need some proof.

Parker: It was an inside job. Average keypad hack time is 1 minute, 9.3 seconds. Inner door access card takes at least 30 seconds for anybody but Hardison, and then the vault was an old Mark II Remington. In and out average - 7 minutes, 40 seconds. But these thieves, they did it in 5 minutes, 12 seconds. Maggie had the best access, so the real thieves only had to get her codes and badge. Yeah, only way they could pull it off that fast.

Sterling: How long has she been sitting..

sterling being utterly BAFFLED by parker is my aesthetic

+ she’s wearing a leather jacket AND a cute red flannel,,, the bi energy is strong

- - - - -

Parker: It's your first time being a fugitive, so I made you a bag..

Maggie: Thank you, Parker. It's not that I don't appreciate getting out of jail, I just can't live my life a fugitive.

Nate: But you're not a fugitive.

Parker: Passports, money, lock picks.

Nate: You were released, not broken out.

Parker: Toothpaste, explosives. Do not mix these up.

Maggie: Thank you, Parker.

Parker: This looks like gum. Not gum. Diamond-edged file blade.

Nate: Yeah, yeah. That's great.

Parker: She needs this stuff.

maggie is such a Mom™ rolling with parker’s antics and we love her for that

also PARKER IS TRYING SO HARD TO BE NICE BECAUSE SHE LIKES AND CARES ABOUT MAGGIE AND WE LOVE TO SEE IT

- - - - -

Parker: So, I took your advice and did the whole touristy thing. Went to the museum, and it was amazing.

Hardison: You see?

Parker: Yeah. They have a guardian T-840 security system. I've only seen those things in books. And the motion detectors - ooh, gorgeous! Six digital receptors. Six!

Hardison: What about the paintings?

Parker: What about the paintings?

she reads about security systems in books? omg I love it

- - - - -

Parker: We meet on internet.

hi I’m sorry but the way she said it was hilarious

- - - - -

Hardison: Alexander's got a travel visa to the United Arab Emirates. He's also setting up accounts in the Caymans, Macau, and Switzerland.

Nate: Yes, countries with no extradition treaty, tax havens

- - - - -

Tara: I got this one.

Eliot: Really? What are you gonna say to him? 'cause we got no cover story. We got no background on this cat.

Tara: Okay. That's it, then. I won't say anything. Really. Not one word. Just when he turns around and looks at you, do that thing with your eyes that scares people.

Eliot: I don't... know what you're talking about.

Tara: Oh, you know exactly what I'm talking about.

Eliot: Pffff.

(Tara sits down next to Chernov and grabs his lunch, taking a bite)

Chernov: What the... Who the hell are you? Do I know you? Did Samuels send you?

(Tara moves a little, still chewing Chernov’s lunch)

Chernov: I paid them off. I took care of it.

(Tara looks over her shoulder at Eliot, who is scowling)

Chernov: Oh, god. Please. Is this about the item?

(Tara throws up her hands)

Chernov: I didn't know. No one told me.

(Tara checks her watch and stands up)

Chernov: Wait! Here. This is all I have. (hands her envelope) I'll back out. I'm sorry.

(Tara gives Chernov back his lunch)

Chernov: Sorry! (walks away)

Tara (rejoins Eliot and gives him the envelope): What we imagine is always so much better than the reality.

Eliot: Like love?

this whole scene was iconic

- - - - -

Sophie: Well, the prospective buyers are invited by their black-market contacts. They show up, they verify the merchandise, and they make a sealed bid. Hey, um, shine an ultraviolet light on that card.

(Hardison pulls a light from a bag and shines in on the card)

Eliot: Seriously? You have one just laying around?

he had one on his keychain in The Ice Man Job and boy do I love continuity

- - - - -

Tara: Parker, double reverse on three.

(Tara places envelope on tray, Parker takes envelope and passes it to Eliot)

we LIVE for smooth hand-offs

+ eliot did the flip thing with the envelope

- - - - -

Sterling: You're welcome. I don't know how you people ever manage – (flinches at feedback on com)

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Oh, I'm sorry, man. That just happens sometimes with the ear buds - You know, feedback.

[Embassy Hallway]

Sterling: As I was saying, the method - (flinches at feedback on com)

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Sorry.

[Embassy Hallway]

Sterling: This isn't gonna stop until I - (flinches at feedback on com)

[Interior Van]

Hardison: Stop talking. Shh. Please

PARKER’S SMILE AT HARDISON FUCKING WITH STERLING? AMAZING

- - - - -

parker is wearing a flannel now :)

+ the leather jacket she wears over it a little later

- - - - -

(Sterling pulls phone from his pocket)

Eliot: What are you doing?

Sterling (dialing): Calling the police. They don't get to dictate to -

Eliot (grabs phone): We're not calling the cops. Two hostages means they can kill one to make a point. (throws phone down on table) All right, listen. There's three types of calls we can get next. One - amateur. Cash and a dump site. Number two - professional. That's wire transfers and multiple-location drop-offs. (glances at Sterling) And three - targeted.

Hardison: Targeted toward us?

Eliot: No. Towards a specific ransom demand - Not cash. (looks at Faberge Egg case)

Sterling: You're not risking a $9 million artifact...

Eliot: It might be the only chance.

Sterling: ...on a hunch! Let me run this. We track the calls, find out whoever it is, have the police surround -

Eliot (walks around table to stand with team): Sterling, I'm the retrieval specialist. That's my job.

Sterling: Your friends' lives hang in the balance, and you're gonna take your cues off a punch-up artist instead of me? (closes case and takes phone from table) Call me when you need me. 'cause you will need me. (leaves with case)

eliot being the focused, determined retrieval specialist that’s hell bent on getting everyone back safe? we love to see it

+ parker, hardison, and tara having 100% faith in him standing beside him

- - - - -

Eliot: He's angry. We took his payday. (phone rings) All right, all right. (pulls phone toward him and hits button for intercom) Go.

Distorted Voice: If you follow our instructions, your friends will be returned unharmed.

Eliot: We agree. Tell us what you want.

Distorted Voice: You owe me

(Hardison uses computer to remove distortion)

Alex: $9 million.

Hardison: It's Alex. It's Alexander.

[Embassy Hallway]

Alex: I still have a buyer for the egg. Return it, and I return your friends.

[I.Y.S. Insurance Offices]

Eliot: I want proof of life now.

Alex: Agreed

it’s cool to see how Retrieval Specialist™ eliot spencer actually works

- - - - -

Nate: Yeah. Yeah, I was lying to you for your own good.

Maggie: Quick little hint for your next marriage - that excuse does not fly with any woman on earth.

Nate: Oh, go- next marriage? That's really nice to say.

Maggie (hitting Nate with spray can): You know what? I've heard that one before.

Nate: Heard what before? What are you talking about?

Sam: Are you actually having this argument now?!

Nate: She started it.

Maggie: He started it

chaotic ex spouses

- - - - -

Eliot: Listen, listen - we know who's behind this, all right? We know what they want. We have the upper hand here. We do.

COMPETENCY!!! HE KNOWS EXACTLY WHAT HES TALKING ABOUT AND WE LOVE TO SEE IT

- - - - -

they made a taser out of two ends of a live wire and a flamethrower with a match and an aerosol I love it

- - - - -

Sam: Give me that. The thing everyone screws up when they fake their own death - no body. Well, that can work, but it leaves no suspect for the police to chase.

Alex: You won't get away with this.

Sam: No, you will. Of course, I've left an evidence trail a mile wide, Visa applications, accounts in offshore banks.

Alex: You were my friend!

Sam: I was your employee. And thanks to your screw-ups, I was an employee with no pension, no savings, no nothing. That was really, really unacceptable to me.

Nate: Well, it's a good plan. What? I- I - listen, I spent 20 years chasing, you know, guys that faked their own death. I mean, this one - it's pretty well thought-out.

Sam: Exactly. Alexander Lundy, desperate for cash, turns to violence. And his poor assistant, Sam, loyal to the last, caught in the cross fire at a ransom drop gone bad.

that’s actually really smart

- - - - -

eliot’s sly grin right before the flashback revealing how they got away with it

- - - - -

(Alex vomiting into a barrel)

Parker (handing him a cloth): It's okay. First bomb's always the hardest (cringes)

- - - - -

Eliot: Was it because they wanted us to hear Sam's performance? It's 101, man. After that, (looks hardison up and down) you don't have to be a rocket scientist to figure it out.

Maggie: You know, people underestimate you, Eliot.

Nate: That's kind of the point

HE CONSIDERES HARDISON TO BE AKIN TO A ROCKET SCIENTIST

- - - - -

Reporter (on television): And that's not all. Today, based on his work recovering the priceless artifact, James Sterling was invited to join Interpol. He's a real-life Sherlock Holmes.

Parker: Interpol? Seriously?

Hardison: Sterling's career gets another boost off of our hard work.

Tara: We didn't even get paid.

Hardison: Nope.

Tara: I hate this guy.

Eliot (taps his beer bottle on Tara's): Now you're part of the team. (walks away)

THAT is what it takes lmfao

also eliot was wearing a flannel in that scene

#leverage 2.12 #leverage 2x12 #the zanzibar marketplace job #leverage #leverage season 2 #season 2 #notable moments #mine

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moonlit-imagines · 5 years ago

Text

Stalker

Robin Buckley x reader

warnings:

a/n: lord i hope this was for robin buckley and not damian wayne lmaooo i think it’s robin b we gucci. also, psa band kids r not losers its just a stereotypical high school 80s thing pls dont kill me yall are killing it

prompt: anonymous: “heeey could you do robin x reader where robin’s friends has been saying that reader is “crazy, stalker” all these bad stuff (and it wasn’t true) and reader gets all sad because she starts to think she too clingy and needy and stays away from robin and then robin confronts her about it? shsoaoqo thanks!!”

“Uh-oh, look out Robin, it’s the stalker.” One of her band mates whispered and pointed at you as you approached.

“Hey, Robin!” You greeted her with a hug. “Hi, Meredith.”

“Hey there, y/n.” Robin smiled awkwardly.

“Hey.” Meredith huffed. The three off you didn’t speak for about ten seconds, then you broke the silence.

“So, Robin, are you doing anything this weekend? ‘Cause I was thinking—” You were suddenly cut off.

“Me and Robin have plans.” Meredith told you, grabbing Robin’s shoulder. “Isn’t that right, Birdie?” She cocked and eyebrow and waited for Robin to play along.

“Uhh...” Robin hesitated, switching her gaze between you and her friend. “I guess so...” She shrugged, causing you to frown.

“Oh, okay.” You sighed. “Maybe another time?”

“Yeah, maybe.” Meredith answered snottily, making you cringe.

“Okay, see you in sixth period.” You waved goodbye and headed to your locker. As you walked away, you could hear Robin’s friend calling you names.

“What a loser, huh? She’s crazy!” Meredith nudged at Robin’s side. “You’re welcome.” Jeez, you know it’s bad when the band kids are calling you a loser. Now you know how Jonathan feels. Speaking of Jonathan.

“Hey, you okay?” Jonathan tapped your shoulder as you stared into your locker.

“Oh, yeah, I’m fine.” You lied. You kind of wanted to go to the girl’s bathroom for a minute to cry. But the bell was about to ring and if you got another tardy you’d get a detention.

“Liar.” He poked you in the side, which never failed to make you jump.

“Oh, shut up.” You dumped your books in his arms and slammed your locker. “How do you deal with everyone calling you names behind your back?”

“Oh, my god, y/n.” He scoffed and rolled his eyes. “This better not be about those band kids again.”

“It is.” You slouched over.

“Hey, who cares if the band kids think you’re weird. They’re band kids.” Jonathan tried to reason with you. But when he turned to you, there was still a huge frown on your face. “This is about her, isn’t it?”

“Yeah...” You opened the classroom door for Jonathan and walked to the back, where he set his and your books down on your respective desks.

“You want some advice? Leave it alone for a while. Try to focus on you, not Robin. If the band kids are bullying you—” Jonathan said.

“Stop!” You swatted him.

“Okay, fine. If the band kids are giving you a hard time, just keep to yourself. Look, you’ve always got me.” He put out his hand for a fistbump, but the teacher yelled at the two of you for not paying attention right after that. “Sorry, Mrs. Stewart.”

“Yeah, sorry Mrs. Stewart.” You repeated.

After class, you said bye to Jonathan and he wished you good luck. You got to sixth period and walked right past Robin. She immediately noticed something was wrong, but left it alone.

The final bell rang and you left the class without a word. Even walked past Meredith, ignoring her snarky comment about you. You walked straight to the student parking lot and waited by Jonathan’s car. Robin watched from the sidewalk, genuinely worried if you were okay.

“C’mon, Rob, we have rehearsal. Stop looking at the stalker before you turn into one.” Meredith pulled her away from the window. Jonathan met you at his car and unlocked your door for you.

“How was sixth period?” He asked.

“Better.” You tilted your head back and forth. When you got in the car, he put on your favorite cassette tape for you.

“How about we get some food and catch up on that one show you like, what’s it called?”

—————

It had been a few weeks since you gave up on trying to talk to Robin. You still heard the band kids make fun of you in the halls, but Jonathan taught you how he deals with assholes. Robin felt bad, she wanted to say something, but every time she tried, Meredith got in the way, and you went about your day.

Robin had finally had enough. She pushed Meredith away and walked right up to you.

“What’s wrong?” She asked. You were honestly kind of startled by her question.

“What do you mean?” You innocently asked her. She blankly stared at you.

“You’re avoiding me.” She raised her eyebrows matter-of-factly. You pressed your lips together in a line and shrugged.

“Seems like you were the one avoiding me, Robin.” You shook your head and turned around, seeing Jonathan.

“If this is about Meredith,” Robin took you by the shoulder, “I think she’s a bitch. I only hang out with her because she’s been my friend since first grade. I don’t think you’re a stalker.”

“Sure act like you do.” You bit your lip, hoping Jonathan would come to your rescue any second now. Robin could see the tears pooling on the rims of your eyes.

“Come here.” She grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the bathroom, then grabbed a few paper towels. You clenched your jaw, holding back tears.

“I’m just trying to be nice, Robin. That was all I wanted to do. I wanted to get to know you better. Find a friend in you. Maybe something more, I don’t know. But you and your little band bitches do nothing but talk shit about me like it’s a fucking crime to be nice!” You blew up, tears streaming down your face.

“I’d love to hang out with you this weekend, okay? I don’t think your crazy. Everyone else is just mean.” Robin wet the paper towel down with cold water to bring the puffiness down in your eyes.

“I can’t hang out this weekend.” You sniffled, melting into her touch as her hand cupped your chin.

“Why’s that?” She hummed.

“I’ve got plans.” You smirked.

“Good one.” She chuckled.

“No, seriously. I have game night at the Byers’ house.” You told her. “Can’t reschedule that one, it’s too important. Maybe next weekend?”

“Fine. Next weekend.” She wiped your face off and the two of you left the bathroom together, side-by-side. Jonathan and Meredith were waiting for you two on opposite sides of the hall. You skipped over and hugged him.

“You okay, kiddo?” He wrapped his arms around you.

“No.”

#robin buckley imagine #robin buckley x reader #robin buckley #robin stranger things x reader #stranger things 3 imagine #stranger things 3 #robin stranger things #stranger things 3 x reader #stranger things #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader

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koocycle · 5 years ago

Note

hiii i’d like to request an angst + comforting fluff, like the OC has a hard time keeping old friendship and has like many doubts and worries and feels like a bad friend. basically an overthinker + emotionally sensitive OC. who among the boys could really fit for giving good advice and some comfort to the OC. could be romantic or platonic. bc i’m basically like that irl wew. it’s my first time opening up abt that.

adore u | jhs drabble

pairing; hoseok x reader

word count; 1,6k

genre; angst, fluff.

contains; bestfriend!hoseok, roommate!hoseok, sweet stuff, sad stuff :(

note; this drabble is based on some personal experiences,, being an overthinker nd emotionally sensitive person makes two of us :( it can be pretty hard sometimes but pls don’t!!!! keep it all to yourself sweet anon!!!! talk w someone if necessary, it can even be me!!

visit; my masterlist !

send me; your imagination right here and i’ll make it come true :)

You were never the kind of person to easily open up to new people, neither were you the kind of person to seek for any kind of social attention. Even when you were only a little child, engaging in conversations and interacting with others was something you definitely had to work on. After years of struggling with the idea of befriending new people and being an expected social butterfly, it didn’t seem to surprise you when people labeled you as ‘the quiet kid in the back of class’.

Very often, you found yourself doubting yourself from time to time, nothing much had changed since that time after all. You figured out that your ‘shy’ behavior even had a negative effect on your past friendships.

As a young adult, you had always thought that you would eventually grow past this perplexed phase of forced smiles and friendships. And now that you were actually able to call yourself a grown adult, you were even more disappointed in yourself when this ugly and toxic mindset still didn’t find it’s way out of your life. It made you angry how you were still doubting your social skills every time being surrounded by your friends.

Coming back from a day with some of your friends that was supposed to be fun, made you in reality mentally exhausted. Doubting yourself almost every day was one thing, but proving your negative thoughts to be right by hanging out with them was another thing you couldn’t quite get the grip on yet. You had no idea what was wrong with you and why you thought yourself to be such an awful friend, but you had been thinking this way for a good amount of years, and you were wondering if you would ever be able to change yourself.

So here you were, sitting in the drivers seat of your dark, cool car. Your car was already parked in the parking lot of your apartment for a little longer than ten minutes, and as to why you didn’t get inside your house already, you also didn’t have a valid reason for. The engine was turned off long ago and you had allowed your forehead to lean against the steering wheel, only for you to think in complete silence by yourself.

You had been looking forward to this moment all day long— the moment you were able to slip under your cool sheets and fill your head with even more negative thoughts.

However, you gave that idea a second thought when you had seen Hoseok’s car neatly parked in it’s usual spot, indicating that he had arrived home earlier than expected.

You took your time to pull yourself together before you would enter the building. Not wanting to ruin his time away from work with another set of your sad thoughts for him to go through. You knew that your best friend was about to ask you how your day went by, especially since you spent your day with some of your friends— something you usually try to avoid.

So when you had finally arrived in front of your door, you took one more shaky breath before you entered, only to be welcomed by your energetic best friend himself.

As usual, Hoseok’s energy was brighter than anything you’ve ever seen. Even though you had something close to a mental breakdown only a few minutes ago, you couldn’t help but smile widely at the sight of him. Your roommate was so hardworking, always waking up in the early morning, only to arrive back home in the late afternoon but still giving you the most beautiful smile whenever you needed one.

‘‘How was Jimin’s birthday party? Did you have fun?’’ he had asked you the moment you walked inside the living room. The first thing you did was plopping down the couch to sit next to him. You wanted to be comforted by his presence as you felt your happy mood shifting again upon hearing the question.

‘‘It was nice.’’ You let your temple fall against his his shoulder, the lie easily slipping from your lips as you closed your eyes at the feeling of him beside you. You tried to distract yourself, knowing how Hoseok wanted you to get into the details. ‘‘Can’t believe you can watch this without your insides doing a turn over.’’ You told him, indicating to the television in front of both of you playing some kind of American reality show.

‘‘There is not really anything else to watch at this time of the day.’‘ You heard him chuckle lightly. ‘‘You’re home early, by the way, I honestly thought you wouldn’t be home until tonight.”

‘‘Did you want me to?’’ You couldn’t help but let your insecurities get the better of you and ask such a silly question.

‘‘Hm? Of course not, I like being home with you. Just figured out you’d be home later than usual because you were spending time with your friends.’’ You felt his head resting on yours then, bringing his aura closer to yours. Hoseok was aware of your constant doubts and worries, he had always been one of the few people in the world to make you feel like it was alright to be a little shy. He told you that it was just fine to take a bit more time to open up to people than usual, it didn’t make you a bad friend at all, is what he had always tried to convince you.

And that’s one of the things that you liked most about him. He was the complete opposite of you, always getting along with everyone he met and being the bright piece of sunshine he was. Everything he did seemed to be natural to you. And yet, he still understood your worries, even though he had nothing to relate to, he was the one who was able to wipe a few of your worries away.

He was everything you ever wanted to be. You wanted to be just like him sometimes. It came to a point where you started to adore him, trying to pick up some of his habits, from talking to strangers to talking to a few of his closest friends.

‘‘Or did you not have fun?’’ Hoseok continued, smoothly trying to ask you about your day.

‘‘No It was fun, Hobi. Don’t worry about it.’’

There were a few moments of silence exchanged, the only sound coming from the television in front of you. He didn’t want to push you to open up about something you weren’t comfortable talking about, but he also didn’t want you to keep it all to yourself. ‘‘What is bothering you, then?” He couldn’t help but ask.

Another moment of silence passed by. You didn’t know if you should deny your feelings right now, but on the other hand, he could read you like an open book. There was no luck in pretending.

‘‘Do you think I’m a bad friend?’‘ You asked him softly, not wanting to hear how pathetic your voice sounded right now.

He had this idea that this was the thing bothering you. You didn’t seem as excited when you walked inside the apartment today, and he was able to recognize that sad look on your face better than anything else.

He knew that you didn’t want to talk about it because you were worried about bothering him with your bombarding words. But in all honesty, he wanted nothing else than offering you the most assuring comfort possible.

‘‘No. I think you’re an amazing friend.’’ He answered then, and you couldn’t help but plant another lump in your throat. ‘‘I would be packing my clothes and live somewhere else right now if it wasn’t for our friendship.’’

You smiled a little at that. ‘‘You’re only saying that to spare my feelings.’’ Your voice sounded hoarse as you played with your fingers, the volume of your voice going softer each time you spoke. ‘‘I know I’m troubling you with my worries, I didn’t want to bring it up again..’’

‘‘Hey,’’ he said then, disregarding his frame from yours, only to make you look at him a second later. ‘‘Your worries are not silly, they’re very reasonable. But don’t ever question our friendship to be one sided again, you know I love you. I love hearing your thoughts.’’

Hoseok gave you a somewhat stern look, wanting you to be aware of his side of your assumption. ‘‘I know you can’t help feeling this way, but you should know that you’re an amazing friend. My best friend, even.’’

‘‘Yeah I know, Hobi.’’

‘‘I don’t think you do.’’ He showed you a small smile, ‘‘come here.’’ Your friend pulled you closer to his side, going back to your previous position on the couch, but holding you tighter in his embrace this time.

‘‘Look at this beautiful friendship we’ve created the past few years. That wasn’t just because I wanted to spare your feelings. That was because I love you being my friend.’’ He told you as you drew invisible circles on his denim jacket, ‘‘Be a bit kinder to yourself, would you? You try to keep everybody satisfied with the love you give them, but what about yourself?’’

‘‘I don’t know how..?’’ you trailed off, not exactly knowing what he wanted you to do now.

‘‘I want you to show yourself a bit more respect. You can’t always satisfy everyone, it’s a part of it. You should love yourself a bit more instead of constantly worrying about your every move.’’

You hummed at his words, knowing that it sounded easier than it actually was. As if he could read your thoughts again, he spoke, ‘‘But don’t worry, we’re going through this together. As best friends should.’’

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captain-jinguji · 5 years ago

Note

SFW Alphabet for Eiichi Otori pls❤️

👀👀👀 I had way too much fun thinking about this man

EIICHI OTORI SFW ALPHABET

Argument: Do they argue? How bad does it get?

Listen his top priority is you. He wants to make YOU happy as much as possible, it's just, he's very opinionated and strong minded so arguments do tend to happen and escalate sometimes. Like actually a lot of times.

Babies: fur baby, scaly baby, or no baby?

Scaly baby! He'd totally get a lizard of some sort like a bearded dragon. Theyre cool, don't shed, and don't talk back.

Cocktails: are they extroverted? Introverted? Both? With their s/o?

Introverted with an extroverted streak. Outside of HEAVENS, he's actually more chill and likes to keep to himself, but he's still super outgoing when he meets new people. Makes you think you know shit about him when in reality, you don't. Doesn't change with a s/o.

Dance: would they encourage their s/o to join the industry? How would they take it if they did?

Eh. He doesnt want you to join mainly because he wants to keep you to himself, but of course he cant dictate your life. Or so you think. Manipulates you into thinking the idol life isnt for you and that's that.

Exit: Do they like to travel? Where would they want to go?

Likes to travel to places with history and lots of diversity. China, Tibet, or the Czech Republic are on his travel destination list; all experiences he'd like to share with you.

Food: what's their favorite date with their s/o?

The ones where they go all out. Super extravagant outfits, high class dinners, private booths, and expensive champagne.

Grease: what's something special they made for their s/o?

A photo book of their adventures together. He still adds to it every time they go travel or something fun happens. It's nice to open it every once in a while and find new pages.

Honesty: would they ever hide something from their s/o?

He will never show them how weak he feels inside. Of course, once you know him, it kind of becomes obvious, but he will never admit how much his father and failure scare him.

Independence: what type of lover are they? Clingy or carefree?

Carefree only because he wants YOU to stick to HIM not the other way around. Doesn't mean he won't hold you any chance he gets.

Jealous: are they a jealous person?

Oh yes definitely. Has scared off many potential suitors with his weird grin and creepy comments. Don't mess with what's eiichi's.

Kindness: how far would they go for their s/o? Ride or die kind of thing?

I could honestly see him go borderline Yandere and maybe even a little past that. Once you're his, you're his for life, whether you see it too or not.

Love: what's their love type?

Physical touch and words of affirmation. He knows what his touches can do to you and how to tune his voice just right to have you shaking beneath him. But of course he also uses these for soft moments where he tells you how lucky he is to have an angel like you by his side.

Mouth: where's their favorite place to kiss?

Behind the ear. It's so easy to reach for him, but also he has perfect access to whisper to you anything he wants you to know.

No: anything they wouldnt do with or for their s/o?

Anything that puts his family or HEAVENS in harm's way. But then again, if you stick around long enough, you are kind of family too and he would do anything for his family.

Odor: what's their favorite scent? On a s/o?

Jasmine or Carribean Teakwood. He thinks theyre both very feminine and represent a sense of adventure.

PDA: how open are they to PDA

Contrary to popular belief, he's only open to it when he feels threatened and needs to show off his dominance. Other than that, he's just holding your hand.

Questions: will they be an open book or not?

No. Even if youve been together for years, theres still things he keeps from you becayse he feels like he can handle them better by himself.

Reserved: what's something that only his s/o would know about?

If and when he opens up, all his worries come to you. Maybe it's because HEAVENS just isnt ready for that next show, or he feels like a failure. Maybe it's Eiji he worries about, or that Raging is losing too much money.

Serious: how long until they start to get really serious with their s/o?

It's a game to him until it's not. Of course he's in love with you but how far is he in? He won't know until he starts to think about the future one day and you just happen to be in every picture his mind comes up with.

Type: what's their type in a s/o ?

Someone more submissive and in a sense, feminine. Someone who challenges him, but respects him all the same. Someone who listens and gives great advice; definitely the type of person to calm him and welcome him with love and acceptance.

Untouched: have they been in a relationship before? How many?

He's had a few flings here and there, but none that lasted because he quite honestly got bored and didn't see the future with them.

Very: what's something they're really good at outside of music?

Car Racing! They confirmed it a couple years ago and he just loves the sport. Is super good at it too! He just cant do it too much because his father is scared he's gonna get hurt and ruins the face of HEAVENS.

Weird: what's something odd or weird about them?

Sometimes he has staring contests out of the blue. Official utapri confirmed that as children, Eiji and him had staring contests, and it kind of carried into his adulthood. He will just start staring at you.

Xylophone: their favorite part about you? Physically? Mentally?

Physically its your legs. Eiichi likes thick thighs leading to a nice booty, mkay? Appreciates the jiggle. Mentally it's your tendency to always be there. Youre most likely a very loving person he really needs that in his life.

Yearning: would they like a family? How many kids?

He would love to get married at some point and start his own family. He would be a super cool dad and an even more loving husband.

Zebra: Do they change throughout their relationship? Are they truly themselves?

He may become more open. As mentioned above, i dont think his s/o will ever fully know EVERYTHING, but he does open up a lot more and becomes comfortable.

#uta no prince sama #uta no prince shining live #utapri starish stillnotsorry #quartet night #starish #utanoprincesama #utapri headcanons #heavens #otori eiichi #eiichi otori

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homosvxual · 5 years ago

Text

hey everyone !! <3 i’m kahlo and this is the baby to end all babies... catra ! i’ll write da usual stuff under the cut including some bg info & whatever. spoilers for she-ra below,, if u ever need a non-spoilery breakdown just dm me and i’ll be happy to oblige !!

uploading data … ⟳ 𝙲𝙾𝙼𝙿𝙻𝙴𝚃𝙴 ! welcome , CATRA. a long way from SHE-RA AND THE PRINCESSES OF POWER , huh ? hm … a twenty year old waitress who looks like BRITTANY O’GRADY — could be worse. i heard you were at PIZZA PLANET when we un - glitched , & you ( gasped and whispered adora’s name ]. still the RESOURCEFUL & JEALOUS type , that’s why [ doc martens, ripped jeans, and snarky comments ]’s totally your vibe. the memory of DEFEATING HORDE PRIME is hazy , but maybe the ( mask and force captain badge ) waiting for you at the pawn shop’ll bring clarity. + catgirl , cisfemale [ she/her ] , lesbian.

ok so here she works at pizza planet as a waitress bc i think that’s funny as fuck and i love to put this bastard through misery. she hates the annoying ass kids running around w snot dripping out of their nose but she really doesn’t know what else to do. plus pizza planet....space... kinda reminds her of etheria in a fucked up way.

she has her long messy hair tho i’m sorry rip to the asking for the manager season 5 haircut

but anyways..... yeah. she’s kinda aching for adora but really wants a new start and she’s like fuck it if working at a pizza planet is the way to go lets fucking do it baby ?

i also feel like she thinks adora will see the word ‘planet’ and bring her big empty headed forehead over there,, so catra just stays put in case she ever comes (she is delusional jfkdlsfjkds)

catra just stares at the mask and force captain badge with disgust most of the time because she knows she was just.... so terrible back then.

if u don’t watch she-ra, basically catra is like......a feral raging homosexual with mommy issues and has a bunch of repressed emotions. she’s a scorpio and evil -- jk, she was but then she got a kick ass redemption arc. she was literally in love w her best friend adora and took it out on the world like a freak ? always felt the need to prove herself but nowadays she’s mellowing out. she’s still a work in progress tho and can tend to be a snappy asshole. enjoys making fun of people and also starting fights. big teaser. needy. abandonment issues and has trauma from physical and emotional abuse from her supposed mother figure (miss shadow weaver smh)

but deep down she’s got a heart of gold and i think that is beautiful <3

she hates water.

also physical touch. if u dont know her like that and try to hug her she will sue

likes cats :3 has a kitty named melog

also i’m sorry that her name is catra what can u do with a cheesy 80′s reboot sjkfhdskjlffdjl u will look her in the eyes and call her a cat.

i dont think shes a catgirl in this virtual world but if u wanna picture brittany o’grady w ears and a tail i will not stop u

big lesbian

she has heterochromia so one eye is blue, the other is yellow !

i like to think she picked up skateboarding living on this world so fuck it. she skateboards to work

will cause problems on purpose

she’s super smart tho and cunning and tactical <3 queen shit

if your character has any kind of morals she thinks they’re corny asf

ok some possible connections:

a FRIEND !! you might be thinking, well that’s lame and bland. but catra just does NOT make friends easily because she’s a dickhead. she pushes people away and keeps herself at a distance. especially after the whole ‘i had a friend once but then we fell in love after i tried to kill her multiple times’ thing! i’d like it if someone could redefine what it means to be friends for her :( that’d be nice. bc friendship leaves a bad taste in catra’s mouth.

PETTY ENEMIES !! catra is always sticking her tongue out at them, teasing them, giving them a hard time & ur muse is most likely returning the energy. what are they enemies about ? why can’t they get along? we can plot that out !! :3

her therapist. pfksdlfjsfls this one’s mostly a joke but fr maybe catra goes to ur muse for all her problems and she’s like “tell anyone i said that tho and i’ll kill u. ok see u same time tomorrow -_-”

HOOK UPS! catra needs to get out her needy sexual frustrations because YOU try working at pizza planet all day, okay ? it’s disgusting. she’s lonely. but don’t touch her afterwards she’ll bully you.

A MOTHER FIGURE.. please oh my god ? catra has NEVER in her life had a positive motherly figure ?? give her advice. hand on the shoulder. scold her. offer words of encouragement fkjslfs

idk what else to put but yes thank u for reading i love you!!!!!! pls hmu to plot!!!!! or we can just wing it out ! i don’t mind either hehe :~)

#cloud:intro #yesssirrr !!#i will use this opportunity to also drop my tags pls dont mind me #┆ ┈ 𝖜𝖍𝖆𝖙 𝖎𝖋 𝖜𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖊𝖓𝖊𝖒𝖎𝖊𝖘 𝖇𝖚𝖙 𝖙𝖍𝖊𝖓 𝖜𝖊 𝖐𝖎𝖘𝖘𝖊𝖉 ? (𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖜𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖗𝖊 𝖇𝖔𝖙𝖍 𝖌𝖎𝖗𝖑𝖘). * (musings)#┆ ┈ 𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑 𝖇𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝖈𝖆𝖙. * ( visual. )#┆ ┈ 𝖈𝖆𝖓'𝖙 𝖍𝖊𝖑𝖕 𝖇𝖊𝖎𝖓𝖌 𝖆 𝖘𝖈𝖔𝖗𝖕𝖎𝖔! * ( interactions. )

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kedreeva · 5 years ago

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may i ask you for advice? i love reading fanfiction, and i like writing it - but over the years, i've got so much crit that basically destroyed my self esteem as a writer. i know my stuff isn't perfect, is not even very good, bc i haven't written in a long time, but i'm so afraid to even try writing and posting something. i'm worried that even if i add "pls no crit" to author's notes, there'll be assholes showing up and saying that i won't grow as an artist, or something...

Well, I’m gonna be honest here, you cannot control other people being assholes. If you write something, maybe they will come say those things. Maybe they won’t, but maybe they will. Probably someone will at some point.

But that doesn’t mean what they’re doing is right, or true, or that you have to take it.

I think the latter has been a big part of writing culture online, this ludicrous idea that you cannot play and have fun unless you’re willing to let people hurt you. Like, why? Why must we allow people to do things we don’t like to us? Because we’re in public? Because we created something to share? I would like one person to acceptably explain to me why it is a requirement that any fanfic writer take crit they didn’t ask for. One explanation of why I HAVE to want to improve in the first place. ONE explanation that doesn’t boil down to “I feel entitled to tell you what to do and how to do it regardless of your feelings on the subject, or your consent for me to do so.”

So, honestly? Find your inner spite, write what you want, post it with a note that says you’re not accepting criticism, and if anyone comes for you, bite them the fuck back. You’re under zero obligation to respect people that refuse to respect you. You’re under zero obligation to be nice if you’ve said no and they didn’t listen.

Ask to see their degree in editing, or what else qualifies them to edit your writing. Ask them to show you where you asked for their opinion. Just straight up call them out on being an asshole by disregarding your request for no crit. Make it so uncomfortable to criticize you that they never try that bullshit again; and hopefully refrain from doing so to anyone else, either. If you don’t want to yell at them in your own words (or don’t know what to say), you’re welcome to copy/paste anything from I’ve written in my /commenting tag; there’s plenty there for any occasion really.

#commenting #anon asks #asks #Anonymous

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tenbees · 5 years ago

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this may be a silly question, but what do you think would be an actual good term for bi women who much prefer women and want to talk specifically about their attraction to women/prioritise women? and this isn’t a febfem political thing, but i mean kinsey 4/5 women who don’t consider themselves actually available to men bc their attraction to men is that rare/largely mild. i’d say stuff like sapphic is good but that might be too corny/overused by “kweers” and transbians, so idek...

oh, and to expand, i don’t think the term “bisexual” is bad or something to be afraid of even for kinsey 4/5 women, but there are some women who feel like it’s not a totally useful descriptor for them bc then men will start hounding on them and assume they’re totally available to men even tho their attraction to women is much stronger and affects them more in their day to day life, hence why i’m asking what a good term would be. thank you in advance!

you’re welcome! i feel like that’d be better for the women using it to decide, but my rando outside lesbian opinion is that something like sapphic or even febfem would be good tbh. sapphic has historically been used for lesbians or more commonly now as an umbrella term for women attracted to women (i don’t really have much of an opinion on whether it should be lesbian-specific or not), so while they would Be sapphic and can call themselves sapphic it would probably also be nice to have another term to rally under to find women with similar experiences. also maybe to dissociate themselves from the queerios but i think sapphic is a pretty word so i don’t want to give up on it quite yet lol.

tbh i was initially excited when i heard about febfems, because i think it must be very isolating to be a bi woman primarily attracted to women when the overwhelming majority of bis are in straight relationships; i was interested in reading the perspectives of bi women primarily attracted to women for once and thought it was nice that kinsey 4/5 bi women were forming a community. as time goes on it looks like it’s turning more political lesbian-like (i go on the subreddit every once in a while and a disproportionate amount of women there talk about how they’ve never been in same-sex relationships but just broke up with their boyfriends and are done with men and need advice on dating women. lol update us in 6 months when you’ve moved on to your next boytoy) but i still think that a word like that for bi women who primarily/exclusively pursue women would be useful. it seems like bisexuals have a hard time forming any sort of culture around their sexuality because there are So Many different ways to be bi, and i think that subcultures based around more specific bi experiences make sense. pls just don’t follow in pansexuality’s footsteps.

#Anonymous

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confusedinfj · 6 years ago

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How to be an fj to fjs

AKA advice for tps on how to stop Fe draining your fj

You'll find this a little less complicated than the *ntp here, so here we go, the

top rules:

Try. Anything goes if you're trying

Don't do something if they already said they don't like it. Maybe you wanna buy then ice cream to cheer them up but they specifically said they hate it when you do that - don't do that. *ntps might want to make a note, cos I know their memory can be NON EXISTENT 😂

Fix the problem. Fjs don't want you to just listen, they don't have Fi. They want you to fix the problem - go ahead, Ts!

Add emotional drama to the fj's words - even if they're saying it calmly, they're very upset.

Look at the fj when they're speaking. Your fj will take you looking around as a sign to shut up.

Don't cut in and start telling a random story, even if you think it's relevant. Mbs you can tell it later - but Fe generally doesn't like hearing about how you've had it worse, so keep those stories to yourself.

Don't just give up when you feel like you're failing or can't fix the problem. Your fj wouldn't quit on you.

Don't tell the fj to go start a fight with the person who upset them. If they thought it would work they would have done it, believe it or not.

Don't start a fight on behalf of your fj. Fjs don't need you to stick up for them, and if they do they'll ask.

However, if you're viewing people having a go at your fj while you're literally RIGHT THERE you are welcome to throw shade. Just a little. Just back off if your fj looks at you pointedly.

Notes for the tps

Would not recommend buying presents to fix a problem you caused - this strikes fjs as manipulative most of the time. Fix the problem first

Learn to give an fj apology. That's right, you can't just go from A (I'm sorry) to B (pls forgive me?) to C (friends again!) with fjs. They're all about INTENT. ACTUALLY, tps, just take this advice and use it with everyone. Skip to the solutions advice.

Read this whole post 😂

Remember how you feel when you're a little down, or even just happy and/or in love. This is the fj all the time 😂 Don't worry, they have a better handle on their Fe than you do 😋

Try to picture yourself in the same situation, with the fj playing your role. This will help you work out what to do 95% of the time.

Flipping listen.

What is my fj feeling?

Fj emotions are deep, and they usually have a pretty chill equilibrium. If you get them to either extreme, they will take about an hour at least to go back to normal. This means that if your fj is screaming at you at 9 and then you apologise and they're all chill again at 9.30, they're still upset. They've just given up on you. They haven't properly processed their emotions, because they don't feel like there was a proper resolution to the argument. Skip to the solutions advice.

If you apologise and then your fj still ignores you for an hour in their room, don't go back in their and complain I JUST APOLOGISE WHY ARE YOU SO MEAN - *coughs* tps *cough*. Your fj is accepting your apology. That's what it looks like. They just need to fj themselves and then they'll be good and they'll likely forget about the problem a week later.

That's right, fjs forget problems once they've been dealt with. If your fj can remember a transgression, you never dealt with it properly. Fjs don't hold grudges, but they remember who they can and can't trust with their own feelings.

If your fj is calm looking, this means nothing. If your fj speaks calmly, this means nothing. If your fj is beginning to crack, times it by 1,000 to understand how upset they are. Back off.

If your fj is telling you there is a problem, there is a problem. Not a huge one, but listen. The fj will give you straightforward steps to follow - no worries.

If your fj is telling you there is a BIG problem, you have deeply hurt the fj and must fix it quickly. You must follow the fj's steps or come up with your own - see the SOLUTIONS advice.

If your fj is quiet, they could legit just be happy. You can test it by telling them a dumb story. If they don't laugh and look more annoyed, they're upset with you. You will need to work out why. Chances are they already told you, but anyway... Skip to WHAT DID I DO advice.

Don't accuse your fj of giving the silent treatment. They only go silent when they're really upset or feel like you're just arguing with them. It's not the silent treatment because it's not done to manipulate you.

If your fj is genuinely arguing with you (not just discussing), this is not a good place. They are really mad or upset, and you will need to read the SOLUTIONS advice.

If your fj is yelling/screaming at you, you are probably a Tp. An *ntp specifically. You should really know what's wrong, but you don't, so skip to TI TRIGGERED advice. You have probably broken the fj's heart at this point 💔

If your fj is hitting/throwing things and otherwise being erratic, they have run out of ways to explain their problem and you will need to commence FJ REBOOT. Good luck.

If your fj is crying, they are extremely upset. Fjs never show you crying unless you've really hurt them (or someone else has). Skip to FJ REBOOT advice.

If your fj is obsessed with tidying up and getting upset by mess, the problem is actually you. Fix the mess, then skip to SOLUTIONS advice.

If your fj is withdrawing and hiding, leave them alone. They don't know what's going on, and are likely to start a fight with you if you push them. They don't want that.

If your fj withdraws but occasionally comes out and snaps at you (nice to know you wanna know what's upsetting me!), they actually want you to fix them. You may commence FJ REBOOT steps

If your fj says they hate you or something, they want to. Maybe the even do. But their Fe is strong, so don't be scared you can never win them back. You just have to Fe nurture them for once - read the solutions advice and be kind.

Solutions

After you've tidied up any obvious problems (like mbs your mold sculpture in the middle of the kitchen), it's time to fix your RELATIONSHIP with the fj.

That's right, especially tps, you're not fixing the problem. Otherwise composting the mold sculpture and disinfecting the kitchen would be enough - your argument is valid.

You need to fix the damage you did to the fj - and the first step is

Acknowledge its not just ONE THING. Looking at Tps again - your fj is not experiencing emotional trauma just because you built a mold sculpture. That just pushed them over the edge. You're going to need to think through everything the fj has ever complained about and contemplate if you're still doing those things, or if you never actually apologised for them. To the fj, your mold sculpture probably hurt them more because you completely disregarded the fact that they spent 2 hours mopping the kitchen floor, and also that they have a life long phobia of mold and sculptures. Maybe it's more about the fact they specifically asked you to do it outside and you were like 'yup!' and then forgot, so they feel ignored. IT'S ALWAYS BIGGER. fjs never get upset over small things.

You must apologise. Having come up with the bigger offence in your mind, you must now apologise for it (hopefully you're correct. If not, the fj will probably correct you. DO NOT argue about how you've never DONE THAT. JUST APOLOGISE). So how does an fj apology go? It's about intent, so it goes something like: 'Hey, fj, I'm really sorry I built a mild statue in your kitchen right after you cleaned it and right before your parents came over. I cleaned up the mess, and I won't do it again (don't say this if you plan to). You must feel like I completely ignored you, and I'm sorry, because I kind of did. I'll listen next time. Can I do anything to make up for it?' Then you either do what's recommended (unlikely to be anything interesting) or leave without begging for forgiveness or arguing about why the fj should forgive you. Ew.

If you have done something so bad that these steps don't fix the problem (like maybe you blew up the house while building the model sculpture, idk) you need to do something to at least symbolically fix the problem - something that shows the fj you're willing to sacrifice things for them. Like maybe you could sell your Ferrari and buy them a new house without a mold sculpture, or if you don't have a Ferrari you could help them by sorting out the house insurance so they can buy a new one... (idk, I was coming up with these examples in the spot). Even if it's not directly symbolic, your fj will appreciate the EFFORT. Remember, it's not about fixing the problem, it's about showing the fj you care for them too.

What did I do

First, I am appalled you don't remember. The fj almost certainly told you, multiple times. So think about it - has the fj told you something recently? Maybe you thought it was a joke or just a suggestion... Review those.

After review, suggest the problem to your fj. Not like 'are you upset because I keep falling asleep when you talk to me?' because that sounds like you're making stuff up, more like 'it must be really upsetting when I fall asleep while you're talking - I'm really sorry' then follow solutions advice. The fj will either tell you you're right or tell you what you did wrong at this point. It's really not that complicated.

Don't scream 'I don't know what I did wrong, WOULD YOU TELL ME WHAT I DID ALREADY, YOU PSYCHO!?' at your fj. This is another thing you have done wrong haha. Following these steps will always work, unless you have an fj mistype on your hands, in which case everything will be so much worse 😂

Ti triggered

When you've Fe drained your fj and they have nothing left to give, it's personal. How can you tell if it's personal? When they're normal Fe users to everyone BUT YOU *GASP*. And they're not talking about your problems anymore.

Give some Fe/Te love back. Play the role of fj for a while. Give them a good FJ REBOOT.

Don't try to trigger their Fe for you. They're done with you specifically, you need to energise them by giving your own Fe back (or Fi, whatever, just be kind basically).

Be warm. Think warm thoughts about them and they'll feel them - high fe works like that

Be intentional about helping the fj emotionally. Tps, it's not about fixing the PROBLEM. That attitude will significantly slow your efforts down.

Take care of stuff and take the fj out for fun stuff if you can. Otherwise do fun stuff with them at home, or watch TV or something.

Just to be clear, these steps are to repeated over a long period of time. However, it is possible to un-Ti trigger an fj quickly with the correct attitude, but you'd have to be completely focused on the fj as a person and not fixing the fj...

Fj reboot

Designed to fix stressed or a little upset fjs. A good place to start after the SOLUTIONS advice if you've got a really big problem on your hands 😉

Hug your fj. If they push you away hug tighter. If they verbally tell you off, back off.

Be affectionate to your fj - physcisly, verbally, the whole thing,as long as it's genuine.

Be happy and genuine. But not inconsiderately happy (HHAHAA YOUR GRANDMA DIED HAHAHA!)

Make sure the fj has a tidy, calm environment. This is probably enough to fix a stressed fj.

Take your fj out somewhere fun - basically just anywhere if you're happy haha. If possible, don't include other people if you're trying to heal your own relationship with the fj - they separate people in their mind, and while they might be happy with the others, they can still be hurt by you. So isolated times are best. Otherwise, people it up if the fj wants 😂

Buy your fj a present if it seems natural, don't force this.

Watch TV or do something quiet with your fj.

Talk about feelings if your fj wants to. Not super likely, but very helpful if the fj decides it's necessary. Full eye contact and actual verbal input required. Don't talk abiut your own feelings and stuff, it's just one day if you do this right

Your fj should be all good after this, in which case, you can sit on your new skills for about 6 months+ unless you're a young tp still hating on your Fe, in which case 2 weeks tops till you use it again 😂 (this is a joke haha)

Specifically tps, be a tp. Not a mean, argumentative tp, the strangely affectionate tp you can be. Don't see tired Ti in your fj and give them more ti, give them your Fe. It's strange and warm, and the fj loves it. (Not pointing out other types like Tjs cos they probably fixed their fj in five minutes haha).

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