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training4theapocalypse · 1 year

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Finders Keepers Ch 5. (Cormac McLaggen x fem!reader)

Rating: Explicit 18+

Word Count: 4.3k

Warnings: SMUT!!!!!!!!! Kissing, Dry humping, Sucking on my titties like you wanted me calling me all the time like Blondie check out my Chrissy behind it's fine all of the time.

Summary: It's the night of Slughorn's party and you're ready to make McLaggen jealous.

A/N: I said I wasn't gonna post til Sunday but I am too impulsive!!! Here is some recommended listening: Escapism by RAYE and Daylight by David Kushner (thank you anon for the latter recommendation). P.S. You can tell I'm not actually a Ravenclaw because my door riddle was SHIT lmao.

Masterlist

Tag list: @countlambula

Chapter 5: Firewhisky

Two weeks later, you sit on the same spot on the edge of Marietta’s bed, this time lacing up your strappy stilettos. You point your wand at your feet. ‘Molliare’ you think, silently casting a cushioning charm so you can walk with ease in your heels.

Cho and Marietta join you as you walk over to the mirror, they stand behind you like proud parents.

“Stunning,” says Cho looking at you in the mirror.

“Yes, well, enough about the dress,” says Marietta, admiring her alterations. “Zacharias is going to feel like he’s won the Daily Prophet Grand Prize Draw when he sees you.”

Ugh, you almost forgot about Smith.

You admire yourself in the mirror and you have to admit- this is probably the best you’ve ever looked. Thanks to Marietta, your form-fitting cobalt blue dress seems to glow ethereally in the candlelight. She’s given you a high leg split and its generously low-cut bodice accentuates every curve of your body.

“Okay, toss your head forward and mess up your hair a wee bit,” says Cho. You flip your head down and back up and push your tousled hair behind your ear. “Perfect - it looks like you’ve just finished a very steamy snogging session.”

“Fuck, I’m nervous.” You reach out and hold both of their hands. “I wish you were coming.”

“Okay, Captain,” says Cho, imitating your most authoritative dressing-room voice. “What’s the game plan? Let’s go over positions.” Strangely, it helps your nerves.

“Meet Smith downstairs and arrive late. Don’t even look at McLaggen. Impress Gwenog. Still don’t look at McLaggen. Have a few drinks and hit the buffet-”

“Have one drink. No bread or you’ll burst out of that dress,” warns Marietta.

“One drink to stay reasonably sober,” you repeat, ignoring the last part. “Wait for McLaggen to approach me. Brush him off casually. Leave conspicuously and in an extra giggly fashion with Zacharias Smith then report back to you two in the common room.”

“Well remembered.”

“Shouldn’t I just snog Smith in front of him?”

“No!” says Marietta.

“It’ll be way worse in his head if he doesn’t see you. Leave it to his imagination,” nods Cho knowledgeably.

God, dealing with boys was such hard work. You look at your two friends sincerely- they’re extremely skilled in this particular art of war.

“Thank you- both of you. This was insanely hard work, I mean, this dress, Marietta…” You check yourself out in the mirror again. “It’s beautiful, really. I’m sorry if I’ve ever been sort of disparaging towards this stuff before. As if it’s any less worthwhile than Quidditch or school. It’s just… I’m not used to being bad at things.”

They understand. You don’t need to say any more as the three of you embrace in the middle of the dorm room.

“Right,” says Cho, wiping her eyes. “You’d better go before Zacharias thinks you’ve stood him up.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Slughorn’s office looks like a beautifully decadent circus tent. The walls are draped with emerald, crimson and gold hangings, contrasting with the striking blue of your dress.

You walk in, arm-in-arm with Smith who looks incredibly pleased with himself. When you met him earlier on the marble staircase he actually did a double take before saying your name questioningly, as if he didn’t believe it was you.

“Fuck off, Smith, I don’t look that different.”

“Ladylike as ever, I suppose,” he scoffed and you rolled your eyes.

But now as you walk in, you keep your head high and smile at other students you recognise, as if you’re delighted to be here with Smith. Murmurs ripple through the crowd, as the two of you pass through- you hope it’s your dress that’s causing a commotion but you resign yourself to the fact that your classmates are probably just surprised to see you here with a boy.

Tactics, remember tactics.

“Let’s get a drink,” you whisper, marching him towards a tower of champagne flutes. You grab one and drain it quickly, using the opportunity to discreetly scan the room for McLaggen.

He’s across the room, determinedly talking to Hermione. You have a satisfied feeling that he’s trying not to look at you.

You dump your empty glass, grab another for courage, and link Smith’s arm again, steering him to try and find Slughorn but you don’t need to go far before you hear a booming voice calling your name.

“Professor Slughorn! Thank you for inviting me,” you respond graciously, pretending you aren’t starstruck by his companion, Gwenog Jones. “This is Zacharias, he’s captain of the Hufflepuff Quidditch Team.”

“Oh! I thought- ” says Slughorn looking from you to Smith and then off into the room behind you. “Ah, never mind. I’m an old man, who knows less and less about young love these days.” Slughorn chuckles and Smith gives you a questioning look which you ignore. “Anyway, allow me to introduce Miss Gwenog Jones, Captain of the Holyhead Harpies. Gwenog, this is the Ravenclaw Quidditch Captain, I mentioned earlier.”

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” you say, shoving your drink into Smith’s hand and clasping hers when she reaches out to give you a handshake. “I’m a huge fan.”

“Old Sluggy’s been telling me all about you,” she says.

“All good things, I hope?” You ask playfully of Slughorn who guffaws.

“Of course, of course!”

“I don’t suppose he mentioned our recent landslide victory against Slytherin?” You give her a winning smile, desperate to make a positive impression.

“He did… But I’m more interested in what he told me about your training.”

“My- my training?” you stumble - slightly surprised that Professor Slughorn knows anything about your training.

“I’ve told Miss Jones here all about you spending every evening on the pitch. I can see it from that window, you know.” He gestures to the window in the corner, obscured by the curtains. “You and McLaggen, practising for hours and hours and right in the middle of your N.E.W.Ts too… Oh, look, there he is!” Slughorn looks over your shoulder again and calls his name. “Not that you’d be interested in McLaggen for your all-female team, Gwen,” he chuckles. Slughorn spills a little champagne when he spots Harry Potter and practically runs over to join him, abandoning your group.

You bristle as McLaggen replaces Slughorn’s vacant space beside you. He shakes hands with Gwenog who, you remind yourself, he’s acquainted with already.

“As I was saying, Slughorn told me all about your win against Slytherin and while it piqued my interest, it was your work ethic that really got my attention. And he says you’re a keeper too?”

“A world-class one,” says McLaggen. “I’m surprised she hasn’t been snapped up by a professional team already.”

You blink at him in surprise. It’s very considerate of him to compliment you like that in front of Gwenog, even though you’re not speaking.

“And it’s you two who’ve been practising together every night?” she asks, noticing the look you give to McLaggen. “I mean, you’ve actually been training? Slughorn hasn’t been seeing you head off to the Quidditch pitch so you can snog privately or anything, has he?” She lets out a laugh like a bark.

“No! God, no,” you say quickly, and go to squeeze Smith’s arm but he’s already disappeared without you even noticing.

“Absolutely not,” confirms McLaggen.

“Good,” she smiles. “Well, you’re not the usual build for a keeper, I must say. They usually look more like him - ha!” She nods at McLaggen. “But if you’re as good as he and Slughorn say you are, it sounds like I’d be stupid not to let you try out during the transfer window this summer.”

“That… that would be incredible. Thank you.”

She bids you and McLaggen farewell and goes to mingle with the other guests. If you hadn’t fallen out with McLaggen, you’d grab him and jump up and down screaming for joy. Instead, you stand awkwardly, trying not to look at him.

Game plan, a small voice in your head reminds you but the champagne has loosened your sharp tongue.

“Well, you better not keep your girlfriend waiting,” you say, looking for Smith.

“Who told you that Hermione’s my girlfriend?”

“Hermione told Lavender who told Parvati who told Padma who told Cho who told me,” you rhyme off, trying to sound casual.

“I thought you didn’t like gossip.”

You shrug. “I just hear things.”

“Look, I know you don’t like her after what she did to Marietta-”

“Oh, is that what she said?”

“No, it’s what I know. I was in the D.A. with them too. You’re not the only one who hears things.”

Finally bringing yourself to look at him properly, you’re extremely annoyed to see that he looks incredibly handsome in his black shirt and dress robes.

“So, have you snogged her?” You blurt before you can stop yourself.

“What?!”

“Have you snogged her?” you repeat slowly and clearly, knowing full well he heard you the first time.

“I’ll go and snog her right now if you’re so concerned.”

“Go ahead. It should be easy, right? If she’s your girlfriend and not just here to make Ron Weasley jealous. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to find my date.”

He watches dumbfounded as you walk across the room to grab Smith aggressively and lead him by the hand out of the room. When you reach the corridor, you turn around and see that Smith looks like he can’t believe his luck.

“Oh,” you say, trying to think of a lie when you realise you really, definitely don’t want to snog him. “Sorry- I just wanted a bit of air. It’s so hot in there and my armpits are like, really sweaty.” You make up wildly.

Smith pulls a disgusted face and turns to go back in. “Wait!” you grab his arm and spin him back around. “Let me fix your hair.” You run your hand through it, messing it up slightly. “There, much better.”

He stares at you, stunned. “You are so weird.” He returns to the party and you groan, leaning against the indented archway in the wall and knocking your head back against it a few times in frustration. When you hear the click of high-heeled footsteps coming towards you, you flatten yourself inside the little cove so you’re not spotted alone.

Hermione Granger whips past you without so much as a backwards look. You watch her as she walks as fast as she can in the direction of Gryffindor Tower. She’s ditched McLaggen, you realise. You thought you’d feel ready to gloat but instead you just feel… empty. Until recently he was your friend after all.

Returning to the party, you’re not sure what to do with yourself. The game plan has gone out the window.

You want to do everything you can to avoid Zacharias Smith, and you really don’t want to be paraded in front of a vampire by Slughorn like Potter is right now. The only person you actually want to talk to is Cormac McLaggen but lately, all you’ve been able to do is argue, that is when you’re not sitting in sullen silence during Potions.

You decide you’d better mix with some other students. You spend some time chatting with Dean Thomas and Ginny Weasley who you recognise from the Gryffindor Quidditch team. They congratulate you on your win against Slytherin, and you return the compliment but only out of obligation as both victories make your teams the closest rivals on the table, competing for the top spot. You excuse yourself and cross the room to get another drink but Professor Snape halts you in your tracks.

“Detention,” he says simply.

“Sir, I-”

“The first Saturday after the holidays. And I expect you to be more suitably dressed for the occasion.”

You open your mouth to argue but think better of it. Any argument with Snape is likely to extend your detention to a week or even a month. More murmuring cascades around the room as he gestures to the door. It’s probably for the best, you think, that you leave before you drink any more. You got what you came for - an invite to the Holyhead Harpies tryouts. But you wish you’d just…

What do you wish?

That you’d made McLaggen jealous in the process? Or even just made up with him? Gone back to being friends. But could you ever swallow your pride and settle for being just friends? Surely that had to be better than whatever this feeling was right now.

Out of the hot room, the cool air hits you dizzyingly as you walk quickly along the corridor to the entrance hall. You see McLaggen ahead of you, near the front doors, in almost the exact same spot where you had your argument two weeks ago.

Maybe being friends would be enough.

When he hears your footsteps he turns and groans “Oh, no. Not you.”

You catch up with him. “Always so disappointed to see me, McLaggen.”

“I’ve been chucked out. Snape gave me detention.”

“Me too,” you shrug. It’s not much of an olive branch but your instinct is to try and make him feel better. Misery loves company after all.

“You have?” He brightens up considerably.

“He thought I wasn’t ‘suitably dressed’,” you say and his eyes follow your hands as you smooth the front of your satin dress. “What did you get chucked out for?”

“He caught me hiding behind the bar trying to drown my sorrows.” He pulls an entire bottle of Firewhisky from his cloak.

“Your sorrows?”

He shrugs. “Doesn’t matter.”

“And he didn’t confiscate the bottle?”

“I pretended that I was about to vomit on his shoes and he just threw me out without noticing I still had it.”

Without warning you both burst out laughing. Your stomach hurts from laughing at the idea of Snape dragging McLaggen out at arm’s length, trying to avoid being vomited on.

“Well, no wonder he was in such a foul mood when he saw me. I mean detention, for wearing a dress?”

“Personally, I agree with Snape,” His gaze lingers on you again. “It’s very distracting.”

“Oh, shut up.”

“Just don’t ask me what colour it is. I haven’t noticed.”

You hit his arm. This is nice - the playful banter, both of you not sulking for the first time in weeks. It feels almost… normal. Until, with a small jolt, you remember it’s not.

“Don’t be a pig, McLaggen. You have a girlfriend.”

“She isn’t my girlfriend,” he says, leaning his head back against the wall. “We can’t stand each other.”

And there it is. The news you’d been secretly hoping for all night. The pit in your stomach feels much lighter.

“Where’s Smith anyway? He was looking pretty dishevelled when he came back from the corridor.”

You feel a pang of guilt. He’d noticed. And it doesn’t make you feel victorious in the way you’d thought it would. “I honestly couldn’t give a shit where he is.” He says nothing. You wonder if he’s been hoping for similar news too.

“Do you want some?” He asks eventually, shaking the bottle of Firewhisky and breaking the prolonged silence. You go to accept it but he says. “Not here - Snape and Filch will be prowling the corridors in a minute.”

“Quidditch stands?”

He nods and you exit the castle, walking side-by-side in the dark, down the path towards the pitch. It’s a frosty night and you feel your teeth chatter.

“Wait a sec.” He removes his heavy cloak and wraps it around your shoulders. It smells good. Like him. “Better?” You nod and take the bottle from him, so you can have a nip of Firewhisky. It burns your chest, spreading heat through your body.

The path ends when you get to the pitch and you feel your high heels sink into the grass. “Shit,” you hiss, freeing one of your stilettos.

“Right, up you get.” He stands in front of you and stoops slightly, so he can give you a piggyback.

“You must be drunk if you think I’m letting you carry me.”

“Don’t argue for once in your life. Hurry up.”

You give him the bottle back before jumping up so he can carry you across the grass and underneath the stands. The familiar smell of amber and jasmine, this time mixed with Firewhisky and mud from the Quidditch pitch, reaches your nostrils. You resist the strong urge you have to lean into the crook of his neck and inhale.

He lets you off when you get to the wooden stairs. “Ladies first.”

“Remembered I’m not a bloke, have you?” you ask, walking up the stairs. Cho was right- he does always let you walk in front of him.

“If I thought you were a bloke, I wouldn’t constantly be staring at your arse.” He gives you a cocky grin.

“Oh, well, by all means, carry on objectifying me then,” you say sarcastically and snatch the bottle from his hands before turning around quickly so he can’t see you smile.

He follows you to the top of the stand where the pair of you sit, looking out onto the pitch and the snowy hills in the distance.

“I’ve never noticed how beautiful it is up here,” you sigh.

“Always been too busy watching the game?”

You nod.

“Same.”

There’s still an awkward dark cloud hanging over your heads. You take another drink of Firewhisky and pass it back to him.

“Right, out with it then.”

“What?” he asks.

“We can’t just act like the past couple of weeks haven’t happened.” Being brave, being vulnerable like this is something you’ve always found difficult and the bottle of liquid courage you and McLaggen are sharing doesn’t seem to be helping.

You try to think of how to get the words out - if there’s one thing you’ve learned from spending more time with Cho and Marietta this year, it’s that it’s better to get this sort of thing out in the open. You take a deep breath, preparing for rejection but he beats you to the punch.

“I’m an idiot.” He groans. “I just - I got it into my head that we’d go to the party together and you’d end up getting off with Gwenog Jones. So when Hermione asked me to go I jumped at the chance.”

“I don’t fancy Gwenog Jones-”

“-Then you turned up with Smith and that was even worse than what I imagined with Gwen.”

You draw his cloak around you and look at your shoes. “Well, I didn’t realise you had asked me to go to Slughorn’s party as friends.”

“I- I didn’t want to ask you as friends. Believe me. I thought I was kidding myself that you might be into me… everyone said I was stupid to even ask you.”

“Who’s everyone?”

“Belby-“

“Belby?!” You scowl. That moron. “Who else?” You demand.

“Well I’m not gonna say now, am I?” McLaggen laughs. “I can tell Belby’s about to regret it.”

Your face cracks into a smile. The aggression bubbling up in your chest evaporates into the frosty night air. His laugh gives you a new perspective - it’s as if you can step back from the scene and can see how daft it is to get so bothered by someone like Marcus Belby.

You look up at his face in the cold moonlight. Butterflies squirm in your stomach. He’s so distractingly good-looking - you can’t think properly when it’s just you and him like this. No quaffle or cauldron to divert your attention or give you a reason not to look at him for too long.

“To be honest, I sort of thought Belby was right after all because you didn’t seem that keen when I asked you.”

“I hesitated because you make me nervous, Cormac,” you say softly, determined not to look away. It’s like looking into the sun.

“Yeah?” He’s still looking into your eyes but he feels closer now.

“Don’t pretend you haven’t figured out by now that I like boys too.” You look from his eyes to his lips. “Well, not boys. Just… just one.”

His mouth is inches from yours. You can feel his breath on your lips. “If you say Smith, I’ll kill him.”

And there it is. You’re not sure whether it’s his possessiveness or the fact you’d really like to watch him hit Smith but something about that sentence makes you feral for him. You press your mouth against his, the burning taste of Firewhisky on both your lips.

He kisses you back fiercely. It’s harder and rougher than the soft kisses you’ve experienced before but you like it. It means you can kiss him back the way you want to - you know he can handle it. You bite hard on his bottom lip in silent admonishment for what he’s put you through. And Cormac returns the favour, his hand roughly gripping the part of your thigh exposed by your dress. You wonder if he knows it’s for him. The absence of fabric - created for the sole purpose of seeking his attention.

You bring your arms behind his neck, pressing your body as close to him as you can and the Firewhisky falls from the bench and rolls on the floor, forgotten. He moves his hand under your thigh and drags you onto his lap so that you’re straddling him. Your lips meet again, crashing into each other and his tongue intrudes into your mouth, rolling over yours. You want to feel his mouth everywhere.

As if reading your mind, his lips leave yours to kiss along your jaw and down your neck. You lean back so he can draw his tongue along your collarbone and bury his face in your chest. Cormac’s strong hands grip your hips tightly, his thumbs pressing bruises into your hipbones without any indication of slowing down or showing restraint.

From this position, you can feel his erection pressing into you. It’s the first time you’ve kissed a man like this but your body responds almost automatically, sending your hips grinding into him. The night air is below freezing but your skin feels burning hot between the weight of his cloak and the warmth of his body.

The difference in size and strength between you sends wild thoughts flashing through your mind of him pinning you down against the bench and savagely taking you there.

You run your fingers through his dark blonde hair, pushing his face into your cleavage in encouragement, feeling his hot tongue and rough chin against your chest as you grind yourself against him harder. The now hot and damp fabric of your underwear rubs against the hard bulge between your bodies, creating friction more electric than the one that’s been between you the past few weeks.

“Fuck…” he moans into your chest softly.

All evidence so far has pointed to Cormac being an ass man but you’re not so sure any more as he continues his vocal appreciation, licking and sucking your tits right here on the deserted stands.

Cormac’s hands move up from your hips to push your breasts together and he whines when one of your nipples peeks out over the top of your dress. He latches onto the small nub of skin and sucks, swirling his tongue around your nipple.

“Cormac, fuck, that’s-”

But just what it is, is interrupted by the anguished moan of pleasure that leaves your lips when his teeth graze your sensitive skin. It echoes across the deserted pitch into the night. A noise that would be indiscernible in the usually busy stadium. Unable to take it anymore you push his chest back and stare into his eyes, breathing heavily.

“We shouldn’t… we should go back to the castle,” you pant.

“Shouldn’t what?” He raises his eyebrows with a smirk, his slightly wet chin glistening in the dim moonlight. “I haven’t suggested anything.”

“I was talking to myself.”

He grins and helps you off of him so you can fix your dress. “Well, that was easily the best thing that’s happened to me in this stadium,” he says, adjusting himself too.

“Ah, maybe you’ll get a game one day,” you tease and cup his face, just so you can feel his stubbly chin against your palm again.

He kisses your palm before taking your hand in his so you can walk back down the steps to the pitch together. When you get to the grass he insists on carrying you again but this time refuses to put you back down until you reach the castle steps.

From a tower high above, Horace Slughorn looks out of the window of his now-empty office. The party has long finished. He chuckles to himself when he sees the silhouette of McLaggen emerging from the darkness, carrying you on his back towards the entrance hall, illuminated by the castle torches.

When you climb off him and make it to the top of the marble staircase, you kiss him goodbye one final time. This is the last time you’ll see him before you go home for the Christmas holidays tomorrow. You turn and leave for Ravenclaw Tower, while he goes off in the opposite direction to Gryffindor.

“I can skip, I can be broken, I can burst, I can sing. What am I?” asks the bronze eagle knocker on the door. “A heart,” you say, ripping off your heels impatiently, waiting for the door to swing open. You need to wake up Cho and Marietta - you promised you’d tell them everything.

Chapter 6: First Name Basis

#cormac mclaggen #cormac mclaggen x female reader #cormac mclaggen x reader #fanfic #harry potter and the half blood prince #harry potter fanfic #harry potter fanfiction #harry potter #freddie stroma

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doctorhelena · 2 years

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Steggy Fic: Until Then (We'll Have to Muddle Through, Somehow)

This is my very belated @steggyfanevents Steggy Secret Santa 2022 gift for @imxthexhandler (although, this year I am not technically late because I also made (unrelated) fanart!)

The story is complete, and a new chapter will be posted every Wednesday.

Story summary: Five times Peggy and Steve carved out small moments of happiness, and one time they didn’t have to.

Chapter summary: In which there is an apology that goes even better than Steve had hoped.

Rating: R

Read it on A03

Excerpt:

London, December 1943

“Well, you’re brave, I’ll give you that,” Howard Stark told him, both amused and a little impressed, judging by his voice and the quirk of his mustache. “But it might have been less risky to parachute solo into Krausberg, pal. I can get you the stockings, but even if you bring your new shield with you, I can’t guarantee you’ll deliver them alive.”

“She isn't going to kill me,” Steve said in what he was starting to think of as his Captain America voice - a tone that often radiated considerably more conviction than he actually felt. Now that he actually was a captain, using his stage voice seemed to give people the impression that he knew what he was doing. It was undeniably useful, but - it was also at least partly how he'd gotten into this mess in the first place. “I’m too useful to the war effort.”

Howard guffawed at that. “Look, kid, I’ve made a lot of women angry in my day, and my first piece of advice is whatever you say to her, definitely don't lead with that.” He shook his head, turning slightly more serious. “And my second piece of advice is - why bother trying so hard to fix things with her? Just be glad she’s forgiven you enough to work with you without trying to shoot you.” He shrugged easily. “There are plenty of fish in the sea, and you, my friend, are prime bait. Peggy’s a bombshell, there's no denying that, but there are a hell of a lot of pretty girls who it’s a hell of a lot safer to try to kiss. And look at you. Handsome mug, supersoldier muscles, and a hero to boot - the dames must be all over you.”

"Yeah, that’s the trouble,” Steve said glumly. “Well, that, and you and your sudden craving for fondue.” He buried his face in his hands. “God, I can’t believe I accused her of fonduing with you.” It was awful on two levels - the worst, of course, was the accusation itself, but spectacularly misunderstanding the meaning of the word fondue was right up there too.

Howard laughed and patted him on the shoulder. “Oh, you have got it bad, pal.” He nodded thoughtfully. “All right, if you’re going to do this, you’re going to have to go big. My usual weapon of choice is diamonds - necklace for apology, bracelet for ‘it's over’, earrings for - well, it doesn't matter. Now, I stay far away from the rings, myself, but - ”

“I think I’ll just stick with the stockings, thanks,” said Steve firmly. “How much?” The Army not only fed and housed him, it paid him too, and from what he’d gathered from Bucky and the guys, he was pretty sure he could cover a pair of stockings from his savings, even at black market prices.

Howard waved his hand. “For you, kid, they’re on the house. Let me talk to my butler. How long are you in London?”

Steve blinked. Of course Howard Stark had a butler. Steve had never even seen a butler, unless you counted on the silver screen at Sunday matinees. “We ship out Tuesday,” he said. “But - if you could get them a bit earlier, I’d like to - ”

Howard smirked at him. “All right, pal, I’ll see what I can do.”

“Thank you,” said Steve, sincerely. He was planning to apologize one way or another, but he felt better bringing a peace offering when he did.

Howard grinned. “I like your spirit, kid. And, I’ve seen the way Peg can’t keep her eyes off you. You just might have a chance of coming out of this alive.”

Read the rest on A03

#fanfic #steggy #my fic #steggysecretsanta #peggy carter #steve rogers #imxthexhandler

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dollarbin · 4 months

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Shakey Sundays #23:

Landing on Water

Neil Young often struggles to read the fine print.

When he decided to save the world from environmental destruction he hired a film crew and wrote an entire album about transitioning his beloved Lincoln away from fossil fuels before putting any actual engineers to work. Thirty years earlier, after first seeing Star Wars, he assembled an entire crew of jawas to act as his roadies before checking in with George Lucas. Lucas sued; the Lincoln literally blew up.

And when, in 1986, Neil buckled up in David Geffin's private musical jet and got to work on his first truly ambitious record with broad popular potential in nearly a decide, he hired David Kortchmar as his co-pilot.

What the hell was Shakey thinking? Kortchmar had spent almost 20 years adding mediocre touches to Carole King and James Taylor records; he'd then gone on to mess up Linda Ronstadt's 70's sound and had recorded a solo record entitled Kootch. I'd love to paste in a sample of that album's horrors but it appears that no one, in the entire universe, has uploaded a single track from the album to YouTube.

Nevermind, here's the album's lead track; the kookiemonster himself probably posted it, sure that 50 years later his moment had finally come. I think you and me are the first person to ever listen to this song:

youtube

Geffen surely passed Danny Boy's resume to Neil at some point around 1985 and begged him to consider it. "Give me anything, Neil, anything. Just so long as it does not sound like Old Ways 2: Even Older."

Young, in turn, was surely about to use Kootchie's resume to wipe his dog Elvis's ass; but then he saw something of interest:

Kootch had produced Don Henley's smash 84 record Building the Perfect Beast. And Young surely knew that album's lead track; after all, it remains one of the best white man songs of the 80's:

youtube

Who wouldn't want to grab hold of the guy responsible for such a song? Neil was probably just as taken with the high end schmaltz in its video as he was with the driving, instantly classic tune: once he had Korcharmer in his pocket, Neil surely fantasized that he too would soon be all over MTV, shirtless and grinning, surrounded by fawning jawas and buxom ladies.

But he should have read the fine print!

Building the Perfect Beast is not perfect. Indeed, it is alternatively transcendent and unlistenable. Spend a moment with the credits and you'll see why: the 4 good songs feature Tom Petty's Heartbreakers; Ben Tench, Stan Lynch and, most importantly, Petty's lead guitarist Mike Campbell lent Henley their mighty hands as he deftly climbed out of his rock and roll casket just moments before Geffen ordered him interned in the earth.

But the rest of the album? It's pure Kootchie Kootchie.

I dare you to try and survive all of Man With a Mission, one of the non-Heartbreaker tracks. Somebody get me a bucket...

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... cause I need to spew chunks all over Henley's manicured perm.

And Boys of Summer itself? It's a Mike Campbell demo that Tom Petty himself took a pass on before Henley seized it and wrote some (admittedly pretty great) lyrics. And what, you ask, did the Cokemiester do on the track? He probably suggested more synths, thereby earning himself a co-writer credit; happily Henley passed.

Neil clearly missed these vital details. He thought he was gonna get his very own Boys of Summer vibe in the studio and, oh boy, that's not what he got. (And just imagine for a moment how cool it would have been if Young had hired The Heartbreakers instead of Danny Cockstapler. Imagine Landing on Torpedoes nestled majestically in Neil's catalog.)

My famous brother has ideas of his own about all this. He recently claimed in print that Landing on Water, the record Neil and Handy Danny ultimately made, is better than Trans.

Well, huh.

On the one hand, my brother is famous for a whole bunch of reasons. I mean check out his blog right now and you can get your hands on his first solo record, which he and others claim sounds like Yo La Tengo meets Guided By Voices (they're wrong; rather, it sounds like my brother meets Arthur Lee, as produced by Robert Smith) for the very Dollar Bin price of absolutely nothing.

But on the other hand, he once claimed that Dylan's Live at Budokan was good, and some of you remember how I shredded his soul and stomped upon his dignity in response.

So let's put him to the test once again and give Landing on Water a fresh listen. I just hope I don't get korched in the process...

Side 1 opens with a lot of keyboard flatulence; in Weight of the World it sounds like Neil is hauling around all of Young Dan's new wave records on his back, rather than the world's mass, and they all seem to suck. Neil does supply a sensitive bridge chock full of self-pity. But it's hard to pity a guy who chose to make this record with D. Corkboard instead of Crazy Horse.

Next up is Violent Side and the song is certainly interesting. Typically, male penned confessionals focus on self-abuse and lady troubles. But here Neil counsels himself to take a chill pill before he breaks someone's face.

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It should be great. But Young lets D. Crappy dress the track in plodding, anthemic garbage, complete with a choir. The song is about anger; Neil should have brought in Billy Talbot and David Briggs to kick Danny's wine cork sniffing ass.

Hippie Dream is, deservedly, the best known track from Landing on Water. The song feels important from the get-go and the Crockpot man's arrangement is less busy than otherwise on the record. Everything here is enjoyable sinister.

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I imagine Neil had a fairly rough time trying to explain this song to Crosby and Stills a year or so later when they got back together on Young's ranch to make the mostly terrible American Dream.

Neil: Hippie Dream is not really about you two; it's more of a feeling thing, you know?

Crosby: Cut the crap, Neil. You said our wooden ship was capsized in excess, and that's just not true. Somebody hand me my golden goblet of unicorn milk; I'm thirsty.

Neil: No, seriously, I didn't want to hurt anyone's feelings!

Stills: Dude, what are feelings?

The album's fourth song, Bad News Beat, is pretty dull filler. What I find fascinating is that Yo La Tengo covered it in the late 80's. The song is a pretty good vehicle for Ira Kaplan's cranky nerd vocal stylngs, sure, but their performance mostly makes me realize just how earnestly people sat down to consider this record back in the day. Everyone really needed Shakey to resume putting out important music, and they didn't know if it would ever happen again. And so they seized on mediocre fare, talking themselves into its worth. Happily for them and us Ragged Glory was just around the corner...

Side 1 culminates with a pretty great song which, like just about everything on the record, would be much better as a Crazy Horse epic. I've written about Touch the Night a bit elsewhere. But the video, which is just like the one for Boys of Summer if you consider pigs and pigeons as basically the same thing, always deserves another posting.

OOOOOOO-ooo-WA! Hey, everyone: touch the night.

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Side 2 is a bit less interesting. People on the Street sounds like it was intended for The Village People; Hard Luck Stories sounds like it was written and performed on an Apple 2E, I Got a Problem is better by the Shocking Pinks and Drifter, which features an annoying "did somebody step on a duck?" riff, totally sucks, in spite of its fairly gnarly guitar soloing.

But the second to last song, Pressure, is my favorite thing on the record. Packed tight with, well, pressure, it rocks, kinda like you're suddenly enjoying a terrible trip to the dentist.

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While listening to this song I start to feel like my famous brother is right yet again. Maybe Landing on Water really is better than Trans... then again, maybe not.

Regardless, not even Danny Korchmar can ruin this frantic song. Go Neil go.

Cheers Everyone.

#neil young #shakey sundays #crazy horse #david crosby #stephen stills sucks #and so does Danny Kortchmar #don henley #tom petty and the heartbreakers

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skinni-girls-eat-books · 6 months

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Sunday, April 14th, 2024! Pt 2 (one day NC 🥳)

10:03am: I went back and reread some posts from earlier in the week and remembered that I was doing really good! I think last night was a one off and a little step backwards, but nothing that can't be overcome again. Things happen. People disappoint us and let us down, doesn't mean we have to become hard and cold to the world.

I'm gonna stay positive and know that

1) fake positivity does turn into real positivity after a while 2) positivity attracts people, friends and that's what I would like.

Stay positive! Definitely still process your trauma, but there's so much good in life! Like that awesome feeling when you have a good day with someone new ❤️ I guess I understand wanting to start fresh with someone because it's exciting! Plus be confident knowing that you were never the problem and omg there's so many guys out there that want a chance with you, honestly things will probably get better with age.

Don't be like the boss, a whole ass pharmacist going back n forth with someone beneath him, petty drama, stress and emotional turmoil. I don't want that life, it's bad for your physical body. When I think about the positive feelings I've been having for about the past two weeks, the tension lifts from my body. I have so much to look forward to. And I can't control anyone else's actions, I can only control my actions and my emotions and how I react to things.

This door closing is just opening up a bunch new ones :) and what one man won't do, another man will ❤️ let's work on me so I can find my forever guy ❤️

I love you

6:53pm: Got home from work and I'm bleeding like crazy. Longest month of my life. New homie sounded like he was gonna come over but I think he chickened out? Lmao that's crazy 😂 Had a nice day at work, ranted to the boss and it helped me a lot. He told me to make a pros and cons list and I said that con side would look crazy 🤣 he said he does the same thing and it helps him, also he said the no contact thing is helping him a lot PLUS this man is wildin OUT like every night is a bachelor party or something and I want to be like him haha. So crazy tho he's just like yeah and then I might get back with his gf after a few months like ???? Guys are insane lmao.

Weirdest thing I have thought about today is how prude he* is. 🤔 I really don't have to explain myself but like, he has the two biggest ho friends I've ever seen and acts like I'm just supposed to be some untouchable angel is WACK. Tbh I wouldn't get back together with him for that alone, it's a major rift in our morals. He thinks he/ his friends can just do whatever but then judges girls for doing the same? Icky, double standard ass mf 🤢 this man belongs in the looney bin after last night. Weird ass said he hopes the guy I end up with has wack dick and he hopes nobody is better than him 🤣 who tf says that

I literally had to lie to this man on facetime so he wouldn't have a meltdown if I told him what I really did, getting piped in our bed by a great guy 😂 crazyyyyy flex bro, but yeah keep doing it in y'all's parents house 🥴 literally just gave me icky goosebumps thinking about that.

Who cares lol I'm glad that part of my life is over. I'm tired of looking stupid tbh. Hesitant to do a # days no contact tracker on here because ik it can be counterintuitive to think about him technically, but shit I already think about him anyway, so I think it'll be a good idea to *try* and if it sucks I'll stop.

1:10am: Going to sleep now, didn't do anything after work today but that's ok :) had yogurt and cereal for dinner and both cats are on my bed ❤️ Spent too much time on my phone but it's ok, too. I think I'm gonna do a beginning of the day and end of the day, then I can kinda track triggers that make me want to reach out to him. Ik it's stress but also ik this will help. Distractions are great, but I want better distractions than just being on my phone lol.

Goals for tomorrow: Last OSCE! Study for exam! Study MOA! I know you hate it but that doesn't matter right now, you gotta grind before you party 🎉 Study for Jesse McCartney ❤️ He doesn't want you to fail your exam 😂

Goodnight, I love you so much I hope you had a good Sunday. I'm listening to crime podcasts while I fall asleep, something I couldn't do with you here lol. Perks of being a bachelorette 🤪 Hella peaceful and everything is easy going.

Day 1 NC complete! ❤️🥳

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kinetic-elaboration · 1 year

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August 18: Cafe; Walk

I think I’ve reached a new level of drop-dead tired. I went to get my customary Friday-afternoon coffee after work, and then after that B and I met up and took his dog on a walk around the campus area and so on. It was nice but I got so little sleep last night and I’m so tired and I’m so… the energy that I need to replenish in solitude in my introverted way has totally run out and then some, emergency lights on. I was going to go to the DMV tomorrow. I was going to go to the DMV just by myself and then B suggested we hang out on Saturday and offered to go with me to the DMV, and then today he asked to hang out, because he had totally forgotten about tomorrow, as he does. So now he’s like semi-backing out because he needs to do stuff to prepare to go back to work. WHICH, like, I totally get. I mean I’m not that keen to hang out more myself, mostly because as I said, I need some Me Time. I just don’t know when I’ll see him again because he’s going to be so busy with the school year soon, so I was willing to rearrange plans. Now, though, I’m…. rethinking everything. I don’t know if I’m up for the DMV. The thing is… I have spent the last couple weekends in my apartment and it would probably be a good idea to go out again. And I need to get my license renewed, so that would be 2 birds etc. But I feel right now like there’s a real argument to be made for staying in. I have stuff I need to do around the apartment, and I am way, WAY, behind on my writing, and I think resting and being creative would be good for me, better than dragging myself around on errands. Also my feet hurt really bad. Partly from the walking but honestly mostly from stress.

I know I do this to myself so this isn’t really a complaint but less than 5 hours sleep, I think, then a full day of work that I’m already hazy on, honestly about 2 hours at the café (because I arrived earlier and stayed later than usual) and an hour plus walk… I’m also starting to overthink literally everything I said to B and all the stuff we talked about. We’re old enough friends now that I don’t do that often so I think that I’m in this mood is a sign that I’m just… completely wrung out, left washed up on the shore.

I’ll see how I feel tomorrow. I realize all of this is just my trying to justify putting off the DMV.

I just looked up the hours. They close at noon on Saturday. So. I think that’s a no lmao. I mean like I could do that, it’s not literally impossible, but I would have to make an effort to get up, get ready, and get out early; I can’t just mosey in at some point in the afternoon when I feel up to it. I’ll need to prepare better. Alternately, take an hour or two off work in the afternoon and do it then, a thought that had previously crossed my mind and which is VERY tempting. Something to think about. Totally closed on Sunday so that’s that on that.

I think… I need to sleep, FIRST off. Still a little uncertain about the rest of the weekend but I know I want/need to write, that’s the first priority, and we’ll see how the rest of it goes. During my café time I didn’t do any useful sort of fic planning, because I didn’t have my regular notebook and I didn’t want useful notes to get lost, so I just did this sort of fantastical meta planning about stuff I could write/post for Halloween. It’s a tempting thought.

(Troped Timeloop first though.)

#the year 2023 #2023: rl

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cindylouwho-2 · 1 year

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Etsy Shops Can Now List Saturday and Sunday as Processing Times

UPDATE (July 16): As usual, Etsy cannot be trusted, and they opted some shops in without telling the seller. Go to your shipping settings page to check that your settings are still ok.

On July 5, many Etsy sellers discovered a message like the one above on their dashboards, creating some hilarity and a lot of confusion.

No, I don't ship on weekends, and definitely do not deal with 96% of my orders over Saturday and Sunday, and

Does anyone at Etsy really think I would expend even a tiny bit of energy on my Etsy shop for the chance at $22 more each year? LOL

So, what does this mean?

First, they did make a real change to processing times, allowing shops to skip the sometimes confusing "business days" option and simply use a count of days that include weekends. But do not worry - you must opt in to make use of the new weekend times. On my shipping settings page in the Shop Manager, I see this:

Note that you can choose to add either Saturday or Sunday, or both, as processing days, and that you have to click "Update" for this to take effect.

Second - because Etsy will never make anything logical and easy to understand - while this may mean some of your orders will now be due to ship on Saturdays, "[i]f a ship-by date falls on a Sunday, we'll bump it to the next business day." So, in reality, they have only added Saturday as an optional processing day, but not Sunday. Etsy Support confirmed this to sellers, as well as mentioning it on the Shipping Settings page.

Note, however, that the Help page only states that "If a ship-by date falls on a Sunday, it will usually be bumped to the next business day." [my emphasis]. That means that even those of us who don't opt into extended processing days should watch the due dates of our orders, and extend the processing time per order where necessary.

Remember, shipping late makes shops ineligible for Seller Protection and Star Seller, and puts the shop at risk of a payment reserve. Don't mess with this setting unless you plan on carefully watching your order "ship by" dates, and do plan doing some work on weekends.

Why Would Etsy Do This?

Etsy claims that there is a higher conversion rate for items that ship more quickly, so adding weekend processing times may increase the orders in your inbox. A whole $22 worth for me, apparently. 😉 Across the site, that could be a nice bonus for Etsy's bottom line, however, even if only a few percent of sellers opt in.

Why they say they are adding both weekend days to processing times but are still not expecting anyone to ship on Sunday is beyond me - that makes no sense. Yes, it means that 6 out of 7 times, an order will show as processing and shipping 1-2 days earlier than it did before this option existed, which could increase sales. It still means that there will be confusion over the items that should have shipped on Sunday but will show a longer processing time on that order in reality.

For those who worry about Etsy expecting you to work 7 days a week, remember, this is not mandatory. In addition, many sellers do already work on Saturday and/or Sunday, but up until now, could not reflect that in their processing times. Not everyone has the luxury of getting 2 days off each week, and many folks may choose a different 2 days off, especially those in countries where Saturday or Sunday could be a business day. Some shop owners with full time jobs do most of their Etsy creating and packaging on the weekend. Some countries do have shipping couriers open on these days (Canada Post has a few outlets open 7 days a week, and USPS has some locations open Saturdays, for example).

In short, this change is an option that better reflects the diversity of seller experiences than a Monday to Friday work week ever did. If you don't like it, don't use it.

The best case scenario would be if this announcement was an early step towards letting each shop choose its own work days, holidays, and down time. As long as they have programmed it correctly, that is.

#EtsySellerNews #etsy #microbusiness #ecommerce #EtsyNews

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sassyandclassy94 · 2 years

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i'm glad you're feeling less bitter towards your dad and that the prayer helped :) I think that's a good idea - what scripture did you find helpful? Is it hard to live with him though, knowing that he probably won't change even though it hurts you and your family?

Prayer is the ONLY thing that helps. It also helps to talk and share your burdens with good trusted fellow Christian friends too. Not only will they more-than-likely be understanding, but they'll give you good biblical feedback/wisdom in return. I'm blessed to have two really awesome Christian friends (one I've had a while, one new that I've made at church this year) who are both really good at encouraging and exhorting.

The Scripture I found helpful was (is) Ephesians 4:26-27 (New King James Version) - "Be angry and do not sin; do not let the sun go down on your wrath, nor give place to the devil." If I had my McArthur Study Bible I would share the note that goes with it for a little better understanding but, alas! I'm at work so I'm unable to. See, it's okay to be angry, but when we sin in it, that's where it's wrong. I'm guilty of that though... I tend to react badly when someone wrongs me... I'll get a bad attitude and keep on nursing and rehearsing it, which is letting the sun go down on my wrath... a bad thing. Last year, when I started going to the church I'm going to now, one of our Sunday School teachers (who is also the 'new' friend I mentioned earlier - he's also the one in all my posts tagged 'Crush Chronicles' but THAT is another story for another day) mentioned how we can sin in our reactions just as badly, if not more so, than the offender. And when he said that, it cut me deep... I was immediately and severely convicted that I teared up. I asked God to forgive me and to help me react better. I still fail way more times than not but I'm trying and I keep trying. And when I mess up, I ask God to forgive me again.

And forgiveness... That's a major thing... a major theme in God's Word and a major thing I struggle with. Jesus tells us to forgive everyone 70 times 7 - an expression meaning "all the time". It's hard and I still find myself feeling resentment toward my dad (I could easily blame him for my anxiety and low self esteem but I won't, because I refuse to be a victim and not let those things define me). But when I feel that way, I try to remember how many times Jesus has forgiven me. The times I've had a bad attitude about someone I struggle with, at work, or when I complain about the hot summer weather. He's forgiven me for exploding on my mom or siblings and He's forgiven me for neglecting my Quiet Time too many times. Heck, He stinking died for a nasty little sinner like me. So if He can do that for me, I should be able to follow His example and forgive my dad. See, it does nothing for the offender, they don't care and probably never will, but in the longrun forgiving someone is better for you, your health, and most importantly, your relationship with Jesus. But believe me when I tell you that forgiveness and reactions, and anger are struggles I fight daily! A day doesn't go by lately where my old wounds are reopened and all I wanna do is scream at my father and tell him how much he sucks and how he's ruined so much in my life. I understand and empathize with your struggle, and I'm here if you ever want to talk, anonymously, or in my DMs. I'm here for you :)

Please just remember this though: It is not your father (or any offender) that defines you. It is Jesus. He understands your hurts and frustrations more than anyone else will and He wants to help you. He will help you if you ask Him.

#Ask Abby #I'm sorry I took so long to respond - I wanted to sit down and really think about how I was going to respond #Plus I had to find the reference for that verse lol!

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tears-of-boredom · 2 years

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My room door has its hinges on my side so youd have to break the door to get in. I think i can hold my side if im awake. Im kinda paranoid. But i guess i have basis in that. I have a reason why i feel so stressed in this house. Even though i shouldnt. I should have no reason to have to keep a knife in my room to feel safe. And i think she doesnt see that i have reasons. I think that she thinks im just angry at her. I think she thinks i dont answer her because im mad at her. She thinks that i would want to keep my door closed when she comes in to talk because then the cats can get in. She thinks i care.

My sister sent me a text earlier. It was actually yesterday. We dont really talk to each other, just relay information when needed. She said that she wants for me to leave as well for the weekend so she and her friends can be totally alone. It wasnt in a rude way or anything. She said that she had noticed how closed off ive been for a while, and that shes pretty worried about me. That if there's anything she could help me with, she would. She said that she cant help if she doesnt know how to, and asked if i could respond. Then a hug sticker....

..........

......

Last year, I would've been so happy to get that message. I knew then that my sister cared about me, and that she would listen if I opened up to her...but it never felt right, it was always like i would be needlessly ruining her mood. That text read to me like a direct invation to share things. It read like I would make her day better by telling her how I've felt all this time.

........but...

I dont know, somewhere there was a tipping point...past that point, i dont feel redeemable, or frankly, like a person. Her words also mirrored mother's words pretty closely, so it makes me afraid that her other words would do that as well.

I feel like any help people will try to throw on me, will just go to waste. Not even the jokey "im employing people" excuse does anything for me anymore.

I needed saving when i was in fucking 2nd grade.

.....what if i got the wrong diagnosis....what if thats why none of the therapy or other aids work....i know that its impossible to fake an autism diagnosis, i know......i also remember how i still thought i was fine, how i was actively playing down every problem i had....whenever i stepped into the doctors room, i took on this persona....the good patient.......

........i just remember the red couches in every room.....in my head, i was just entertaining the adults.. they wanted to do all this to me, and me telling them i dont feel like it helps me, or that i dont see the point in it,, it didnt convince them. So i played along, while convinced i was alright, convinced from the start that none of it was going to help.....

...i was still bottling up all my frustrations, because if you ignore it, it goes away. Talking back will only lead to more conflict. I let the adults mispresent me, not like i cared, it wasnt going to work either way. Since the adults are better at knowing whats good for me, maybe theyre better at knowing me as well huh.

......i remember feeling really guilty, sitting in the waiting room and looking around. Seeing these other kids who had real problems. I felt like a faker. I wasnt supposed to be there.....

.....thats kind of how i feel about life..like im a faker, and that im not supposed to be here....

Last sunday, i was just asking the whole time in my head "why?", "was this your plan?", "did i do something wrong?", "is this what you had always planned, or did i make a choice that altered it?"......

..........

.......i wrote the tags before all the shit from my sister's text onwards..this wasnt supposed to be another one of these posts, just a quick "lol i hate it here"..... i hate it everytime i insinuate that i have trauma. I mean every. single. time. Its the same with any problem that i see as "real". I'll say i have something a couple times, but then the guilt catches up and i feel like ive been lying....its catching up from my "aspergers" diagnosis.....the fact that the diagnosis is called that makes me feel even faker.....i asked about it one time, about why they used the "outdated" term, and the reasoning was that "its just an older term for autism dont worry, it means the same thing"......

...........

......my fuel has kinda run out by now.....my tears have dried completely.....i dont know how else to end this....sorry for posting this. I know its shitty of me to say that and post it anyways, i dont know why i do this........

#my mom always uses this ''i have to see your face by the end of this evening'' reasoning to get me out..#i do usually give away on that. but i dont understand why she needs to see me. or what the consequence of not showing myself is..#like the only reason i can think of for her to need to see me is SH reasons...but ive never struggled with it...and also she would not know #if i did. because i would simply hide it.. obviously i wont show and tell all the ''reasons'' she has to not allow me privacy..#but yeah like she couldnt even tell if i was struggling to eat well or not. when i went to school..#so it cant be that either.. and she could confirm im alive by just asking through the door. or the evidence of me taking stuff from #my shelf in the fridge when nobodys around..#i hate her voice.. you can never predict what volume level it will be.. it sounds so angry and annoyed constantly..#tearful stuff

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handsomelyhiddleston · 3 years

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Smitten - Tom Hiddleston x Curvy Reader

Filming sex scenes wasn’t the easiest task. There are weird nude undergarments or socks or tape or sometimes just a nude co-star…With Tom, though? There were nerves and feelings and a deep down hope that he couldn’t tell that you were incredibly turned on as he mimed fucking you twelve ways to Sunday.

“Cut! That’s a wrap on today. Great work guys!” the director called.

Tom collapsed onto your chest, laughing as the tension left his body. “These never get easier.”

“I don’t know” you teased, playing with his hair as everyone left the set so you two could leave the bed with some of your dignity. “It’s a lot easier with you.”

Tom held himself up on his elbows. “Don’t tell me your past romantic co-stars have been less than gentlemanly.”

“Not all of them.” You shrugged. Being a ‘larger than the Hollywood standard’ actress had put you in some…not very flattering roles in the start of your career. Sure, now you were the romantic lead with a conventionally attractive male actor, but lets just say you’ve dealt with a lot to get here.

“Well, I hope you know you deserved better.” Tom kissed the back of one of your hands, rolling off of you.

“Coming from you, I may actually believe it.” You laughed, gathering the sheet around you as you left the bed, grabbed your robe, and started walking towards your trailer.

The two of you filmed the movie…Where you’d usually fall asleep in one of your two trailers watching other movies…

The two of you attended interviews…Where Tom would almost always defer to you and even stuck up for you when a few interviewers were borderline sexist or would comment on your appearance…

The two of you even walked a few red carpets together…Tom’s hand always placed at your middle or on your hip or in one of your hands...

He invited you out to eat with him before or after any shindig the two of you went to…

He’d walk you to your hotel rooms with kisses left on your cheeks…

He’d even tried to convince you to spend the week before the premiere in London with him…

In your mind, Tom was just too nice. He was nice to everybody. It all seemed very friendly…Until…

You hadn’t been watching the interviews as they’d been posted. Some interviews you did together with Tom and others you’d been split up and put with other actors from the movie.

Your phone pinged…

*best friend* - HAVE YOU SEEN TOM ON FALLON?!?

Before you could reply, your phone started blowing up.

You scrolled through the texts until you saw Tom’s

Tom – Darling, I hope you know how much you mean to me. Regardless of what your answer is, I’d never want to lose your friendship. It’s not every day you get to work with one so incredibly kind and thoughtful and talented and beautiful and…every moment I’ve spent with you has been a privilege. Please put me out of my misery and let me know you’ll at least let me see you again.

“What the fuck?” you asked yourself, opening your laptop and googling “Tom Hiddleston and Jimmy Fallon”

You saw that the Fallon YouTube channel had just posted Tom’s segment of tonight’s episode…

“How are you doing, buddy?” Fallon asked, pulling Tom into a tight hug.

“I’m doing incredibly well at the moment, actually.” Tom answered, sharing that the movie you two had filmed together had done extremely well on its opening weekend just a few days earlier.

“I know! It was amazing. I’ve seen it twice!” Fallon replied, always enthusiastic.

“I’m so glad you liked it. Y/n is incredible, right?” Tom turned to the audience, loving that they cheered when he brought you up.

“Oh my god, you two are so good together. I kind of thought maybe you two were…you know…” Fallon waggled his eyebrows suggestively.

Tom threw his head back laughing, fidgeting with his tie and avoiding looking into the audience.

“Come on, you can’t tell me you two don’t have SOME sort of real chemistry. I saw the movie.” Fallon gave Tom a look like *Don’t lie*

“Well, perhaps we’re just incredible actors and you’re simply complimenting our craft.” Tom shrugged, trying to look anywhere but at Jimmy.

“Well, yes. The acting in the movie is amazing, but I don’t think that accounts for this.” Jimmy turned and pointed to the screen. It was a series of clips pulled from Tom’s interviews where all he did was gush about you.

“I missed being home, but it’s hard for anyone to stay upset when they’re around Y/n. She just lifts the mood in any room she’s in. You could say she makes anywhere feel a bit like home.” Tom had answered when a woman asked him if it was hard being on site away from home for 5 months.

When another interviewer asked Tom what his favorite line in the movie was, he answered, quoting one of your lines. “When she delivered it for the first time, it kind of took my breath away. I felt very unprofessional. I had to apologize and ask to start over. I couldn’t remember what I was supposed to say next. She tends to have that effect on me.” Tom laughed, a slight blush on his cheeks.

The final clip was one of an interviewer simply asking Tom how his day had gone. “I feel all out of sorts, if I’m being honest. Y/n isn’t here today because she woke up not feeling the best and with Covid still being an issue, she didn’t want to risk getting anyone else sick.” Tom answered with a sad smile on his face. When the interviewer shared that they hoped you would be okay and feel better soon, Tom answered with “I’ll make sure to pass on your sentiments when I bring her food later on.”

“COME ON!” Fallon laughed, throwing his arms up.

“I know, I know. I’m not very good at hiding how I feel, I guess.” Tom admitted, leaning back against the couch and laying his arm across the top. The crowd went wild.

“So, you admit it! Are you two together?!” Fallon asked, sitting on the edge of his seat.

“Unfortunately, not.” Tom answered, ducking his head as his cheeks flushed.

“Why?!” Jimmy asked. “You’re clearly smitten!”

“Hey, it’s not my fault!” Tom rebutted, looking to the audience for support. “I’ve tried!”

“Aww, now I feel bad for bringing it up.” Fallon chuckled and looked at the audience as they collectively ‘aww’ed. “How could anyone turn down this?!” He gestured towards Tom as the audience cheered.

“Well, if I’m to be completely honest I guess I haven’t actually TOLD her how I feel.” Tom confessed.

“Wait, what do you mean?” Jimmy paused.

“Well, I thought she’d catch on. I assume she has.” Tom laughed, fidgeting in his seat. “I’m pretty sure everyone else that knows the two of us can tell I’ve fallen completely head over heels for her.”

“Tom, Tom, Tom.” Jimmy shook his head.

“What?” Tom asked, nervous about what the answer would be.

“I’m sorry to have to tell you this, but I think you may just be horrible at flirting.” Fallon said with a straight face, the audience busting up laughing after.

“Do you think?” Tom replied, eyes gone wide in exaggerated surprise.

“I mean, I think you’re just so nice.” Jimmy laughed, trying to stay serious…“that everyone thinks you’re flirting with them…Which means, when you’re trying to flirt it just blends in.”

“Well, how would you suggest I stand out then?” Tom asked, putting his elbow on his knee and leaning his chin on his fist like he was really paying attention.

“I mean…” Fallon slowly pointed towards the camera. “You gotta shoot your shot, right?”

The audience went wild at the suggestion. “Oh, dear.”

“I can scrap this and we can just talk about the movie.” Jimmy offered, making sure Tom knew that none of this had to go on the air.

“I mean, if it’s truly that obvious to everyone what have I got to lose, right?” Tom answered.

“That’s what we like to hear!” Jimmy cheered with the audience.

“Well…Y/n.” Tom paused, a soft smile on his face. “I don’t quite know where to start. I feel as though I may have been remiss by not just telling you how I feel. The consequence of such is that now I’m doing it in front of all of these people *gestures to the audience*…and I’m sure you’re laughing at how red I’ve gone and how flustered I am so I’m going to get to the point. Darling, you’re an incredible woman. I could list a million reasons why, but hopefully later you’ll give me the time to tell you them in person. What I really want to tell you now is that you make me happy. You inspire me. You make me want to be the best version of myself and you even make me believe I can achieve it. I’d be honored if you’d give me a chance.”

Fallon had tears in his eyes and most of the audience did, as well. “I…That was so beautiful. I think we need to go to a commercial break.” He was all choked up and stood to give Tom a hug.

You pulled up Tom’s text, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. “Are you still in New York?” you text him. The two of you were there for interviews. You were even staying in the same hotel.

“I am.” He text back, but the ‘typing’ bubble stayed. “Did you watch it?”

“I did.” You answered. “Come over?”

You saw the ‘typing’ bubble pop up and then disappear a few times. Instead of a text, you heard a knock at your hotel door.

“So?” Tom asked when you opened the door. He looked nervous, a look you didn’t often see from him. He had his glasses on and his hair was an adorable mess. He was even already dressed in his night clothes.

You didn’t answer. Instead, you stepped forward and placed your hands on each side of his face, pulling his lips gently to yours. He quickly reciprocated, his hands finding your hips as he walked you backwards into your hotel room.

“And to think, I could have been doing that for a whole year already.” You teased him, connecting your lips again.

“Don’t worry, my sweet.” Tom answered, pressing kisses across your cheek and down your neck. His lips paused at the shell of your ear and his voice dropped. “It just means we’ve got a lot of catching up to do.”

#Tom hiddleston #Tom Hiddleston x reader #Tom Hiddleston imagine #curvy #loki

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watchmegetobsessed · 4 years

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

a/n: you guys thank you so much for all the love you’ve showed part one!! 🥺 im so happy you like the story! i wanted to post part two a little later, in the weekend but i got so happy for all the reactions that i decided to move it earlier so here it is! i’ll try to update soon, the longest it will take is one week probably. im working on my thesis and have a lot of school work so please be patient with me! feedback is very much welcomed, as always, your reactions and comments mean so much to me!!

pairing: CEO!Dad!Harry X Reader

warning: mentions of death, cheating and divorce

word count: 10.4k

SERIES MASTERPOST masterlist

Pulling Izzy out of daycare dramatically lessened the amount of time she could spend with her friends, so the situation needs extra attention on her socializing. You’ve been trying to take her to the park as much as possible so she could meet with kids her age and Harry has been arranging a lot of playdates for her with her friends from daycare.

When you come back from meeting your brother for lunch on a Sunday, you are greeted with not two, but eight little feet running around the living room, many of Izzy’s toys have been brought downstairs and the coffee table is filled with fruits, snacks and drinks for the kids. You know the two little guests, it’s Yara and Zac, the three of them were like a little gang back when Izzy was attending daycare. Yara’s moms and Zac’s mom are sitting on the terrace, letting the kids roam around freely, Harry is in the kitchen preparing some sandwiches for the guests when you arrive back.

“Hi, do you need help with anything?” you ask, catching his attention.

“Oh, hi! No I’m fine, thank you. How was lunch with your brother?”

“Great,” you smile at him before leaving him to do whatever he has to do.

“Miss Y/N!” Yara greets you, waving in your way while munching on an apple slice.

“Hello Yara, Zac,” you smile at them before walking out to the terrace to greet the parents. “Hi! Ava, Saige, it’s nice to see you again. And Linda, hello!”

“Y/N, hi! Harry told us you might return soon, so good to see you!” Ava greets you as you join them at the table. They’ve been the nicest parents while you were working at the daycare, though you weren’t the only victim of the closed-minded cowards that got you fired. Ava and Saige have faced quite a lot of backlash for basically daring to be a same-sex couple out in the open. You’ve heard many complaints from other parents about how they don’t want them to pick up their daughter together. Apparently, it’s confusing for the kids to see two women to be the mothers of the same child. Ridiculous.

“I was out having lunch with my brother. How have you been?”

“Things are the same, you know,” Saige shrugs with a scowl. “But your firing has got us thinking about pulling Yara out as well.”

“Oh!”

“Yeah, it’s starting to get really ridiculous. I mean it’s one thing that we get weird looks, but firing you was kind of the last straw,” Ava nods.

“And how have you been here, Y/N? How is working for Harry?” Linda asks.

“Oh, it’s amazing, really. I love taking care of Izzy, she is so easy to handle and I love seeing her learn and grow. And Harry is a great boss, I got really lucky.”

“Lucky indeed!” Ava smirks, making them all laugh as you feel yourself blushing. “Even I sometimes dream about the man,” she adds, keeping her tone down.

“How do you keep your cool?” Linda sighs. “If I had to live with this man, I would go nuts.”

“Well, Izzy keeps me pretty busy, and he is my boss, so…”

“It’s not like HR would be up your ass if you got involved,” Saige shrugs, taking a sip from her iced tea.

You don’t get to react, the kids run out, taking over the playground, Harry arriving right behind them with a plate filled with sandwiches for the guests.

“Ladies, sorry for the wait,” he smiles, placing the food to the table as he joins your little circle.

“Oh Harry, thank you so much!” Ava sighs, grabbing one already. “We were just talking to Y/N about how big of an upgrade it is for her to work here.”

“Is it?” he asks, slightly surprised as he glances over at you.

“I mean, the paycheck is better and it’s clearly a better environment,” you chuckle shrugging.

“I just don’t know why Claire lets those assholes control the place. She is the boss there, she should stand up against them,” Linda scowls.

“She is just trying to avoid confrontation.”

“No, she is afraid they would stop paying the daycare the money, so she is an ass-kisser,” Saige scoffs, making you laugh.

“Well, at least I have Y/N now to take good care of Izzy,” Harry smiles, his eyes meeting yours and you swear your heart skips a beat when he says that he has you.

“Lucky bastard!” Ava throws her hands into the air, making everyone laugh.

Enjoying the company, you stay outside instead of locking yourself up in your room. It’s nice to see the moms occasionally pick on Harry, they surely like to joke about him being a hot single dad, but he usually just blushes and smiles at the compliments. Linda and Zac leave first, then Ava, Saige and Yara head home as well when it’s nearing five in the afternoon. Though Harry tells you to just leave the cleanup for him, you insist on helping.

“Now I feel bad you are working on your day off,” he huffs as you help him around in the kitchen.

“It’s not working,” you roll your eyes. “I live here too, of course I’m gonna help keeping it clean.”

“You know, if your brother ever wants to come over, feel free to invite him.”

“Might take your word, because he is very curious about the place,” you chuckle. Harry smiles as he starts washing the dishes.

“He is welcomed anytime.”

“Thank you.” Putting away the snacks that was left you start drying the dishes while he is washing them, working next to each other in silence. Unlike his usual attire, he is now wearing just a plain white t-shirt with light-washed jeans. “You’re quite the moms’ favorite,” you tease him, earning a soft chuckle from him.

“Saige and Ava like to pull my leg, but I know they mean well.”

“They are great people, I always liked them,” you smile glancing at him.

“I remember when I first met them at a parents’ meeting, they spotted how lost I was among all the moms and asked if I wanted to sit with them. Then Izzy became friends with Yara so we met quite a few times.”

“I find it a little funny we never met while I was working at the daycare. Izzy was in my group for almost a year and we just never ran into each other.”

Harry licks his lips before turning his gaze to you, finishing up the dishes and turning the water off.

“I saw you.” Your eyebrows shoot up. How did you not see him?

“Really?”

“Yeah, just a few times. Mostly it was Ruth who picked up Izzy these past few months. I had a huge project that ended just before you started here, so I didn’t have the chance to pick her up that much. But I saw you a few times. You were just always busy with the kids, I guess… you didn’t notice me,” he shrugs, holding his arms on his chest as he leans against the counter.

“It could get pretty intense sometimes even though it was just a daycare,” you chuckle, remembering to all the tantrums and fussy dramas that happened between the kids. Sometimes it felt more like a high school than a daycare, especially when friends were taken and lovestories happened through lunchtimes.

“Daddy! What are we having for dinner?” Izzy runs into the kitchen, tippy-tapping her hands on the counter that she can barely reach.

“Macaroni and cheese.”

“Yes! Maccy cheese!” Izzy cheers throwing her hands into the air. Harry smiles down at her, ruffling her hair and you can’t push down a smile at what she just called mac and cheese.

Harry starts prepping for dinner, he puts on some music that Izzy dances to and though you try to leave them be and enjoy their alone time, Izzy insists you stay and help as well.

“Izzy, let Y/N do what she wants, this is her day off,” Harry warns her, making her pout her lips at you. Not that you would have said no to her, but now you definitely can’t leave.

“It’s alright. I’m happy to help.”

Izzy sits on the counter in a safe distance from the stove, her duty is to watch the pasta cook while Harry takes care of the sauce and you set the table, knowing it won’t take long for the food to be ready.

“Daddy?” Izzy speaks up, tilting her head to the side.

“Yes, baby?”

“I love Maccy cheese. Does mom like it too?”

Harry’s eyes flicker over to you, as if he is embarrassed you caught a moment that shouldn’t have been revealed and you can tell he is still kind of torn how to handle the mentioning of his late wife. You keep a straight face, making yourself busy with cleaning off the counter top. You wouldn’t want to make him think he can’t talk about Maggie in your presence.

“Um, yeah. Mommy loves mac and cheese,” he nods, giving her knees a little squeeze before moving her off the counter to take care of the pasta.

Your eyes meet Harry’s gaze when you bring some water to the table and you can tell he is still thinking about the slip you just heard, but you give him a soft smile, trying your best to assure him nothing bad happened.

Izzy babbles through dinner about everything she did with Yara and Zac today, excited to see them as soon as possible and Harry promises her to arrange a meeting for them in the park sometime next week. You try to help with cleaning up, but Harry doesn’t let you, so pouring yourself a nice glass of wine you sit in the living room to watch some TV before going to bed. After dinner, Harry takes Izzy upstairs to give her a bath and once that’s done she is allowed to play some more in her room.

Harry joins you soon on the couch with a glass of wine as well, seemingly tired from all the socializing he did. Peeking at him while the evening news is playing on the screen, you notice that he is not even paying attention, deep in his thoughts he is pulling on his bottom lip like he always does whenever he is deep in focus. You have a guess what he is thinking about, but you want to give him the time and space to figure out if he is ready to share or not.

“I, uhh—I never really told you why it’s just Izzy and I,” he speaks up and you turn to him with patience, knowing the importance of him bringing it up. “My wife… Maggie, she… We got married about six years ago and then two years later we had Izzy. She was six months old when Maggie…”

He is struggling to find the words, or to just even think about it and you don’t want him to feel like he has to tell you about any of it.

“Harry, you don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to.”

“No, I want to. I always feel bad that I don’t talk about her, makes it look like I’m trying to forget about her, but that’s not at all the case, it’s just… hard to think about how long it’s been and I still feel like it was just… last week.”

Harry sniffles and you’re not sure if it’s because he is getting emotional to the point where he is going to start crying or it’s nothing significant, but you feel the urge to assure him about your support. Reaching over you put your hand to his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. His eyes first fall to your hand and then to you, a sense of softness shining back from his green irises as he lets out a shaky breath.

“It was a car accident. She was driving home late night from her sister’s and a drunk driver ran the red light, crashed right into her car. They both were rushed into hospital, but Maggie’s lungs collapsed and she… they couldn’t help her. The guy had surgery and though he broke quite a few bones and had a serious concussion, he survived.”

You have to bite into your bottom lip, already feeling the tears welling in your eyes, but you quickly blink them away. You can only imagine what it’s like to be called and find out your wife was killed because of the dumb mistake of someone else. And to think that Izzy was still so small, Harry was left with a baby and the immense grief so suddenly, it must have been the toughest time he had to go through.

“I’m really sorry, Harry,” you quietly tell him, his eyes flickering up to meet yours and they are glistening from the tears. He just nods, blinking a few times before drinking up his wine.

Before anything else could be said, you hear Izzy running down the stairs, soon throwing herself to the couch, cuddling to Harry’s side.

“Hey baby, want to go to sleep already?” he asks, softly brushing through her hair with his fingers. Izzy nods, blinking sleepily. Harry scoops her into his arms standing up from the couch and he is reaching for his empty glass, but you take it before he could.

“I’ll wash it, don’t worry about it,” you smile at him.

“Thank you,” he breathes out, holding Izzy tight before the two of them disappear upstairs.

You don’t stay out too long yourself either, washing the glasses you let a single tear run down your cheek before quickly wiping it away and heading up to your room.

The past two years you’ve been taking gigs as a photographer more and more, going to weddings, birthday parties, baby showers or anniversaries to snap photos of others’ most precious moments. You are not a professional, nor do you treat yourself as one, but the more events you attended and the more work you put out, the more popular you started to get. Now you have about two bookings every month and you are able to ask for a quite impressive amount of money for a session that people are willing to pay for your pictures.

You’ve been putting off your gigs since you moved into the Styles mansion, wanting to focus on all the changes in your lives, but now that you’ve gotten quite used to your new life one month into it, you are getting back to your usual. This Saturday you’re doing a photoshoot of a soon-to-be-wedded pair who also booked you for their upcoming wedding in a few weeks. It’s kind of an engagement photoshoot since they couldn’t do one when they got engaged months ago, but they didn’t want to miss out on the chance to do one before they official tie the knot.

Harry and Izzy are planning to go to the zoo today, something she’s been begging to do for weeks now and Harry finally gave in, so all three of you are going to be quite busy today. The photoshoot takes place at this fancy, mid-century styled café the couple chose, so you decide to dress up yourself a little too. Putting on a maroon colored pencil skirt that hugs your hips and waist tight, you tuck into it a white silky blouse, making you appear like some kind of eyecandy assistant straight out of a Hollywood movie, especially with your low bun, which is less for the look but more for practicality, since you don’t like it when your hair gets caught in the straps of your camera.

Swinging your camera bag to one shoulder and your handbag to the other one, your camera hanging from your neck, you head downstairs, rushing a little because you’re short on time already. Izzy is sitting on one of the stools at the kitchen island while Harry is packing them some lunch and snacks for the day.

“Oh! Y/N, you look so pretty!” Izzy beams at you when you near the corner. She is dangling her legs playfully, her piggy tails curling adorably on each sides of her head. Harry’s head snaps up and his lips part upon spotting you.

“Thank you, Sunshine,” you smile at her, caressing her cheek, tickling her a little that makes her giggle.

“Where are you going?” she asks curiously.

“Izzy, don’t question her all the time, that’s not too nice,” Harry warns her, but you just shake your head.

“It’s alright. I have a photoshoot today. I have to take pictures of a couple that’s going to get married soon,” you explain to her and Harry’s ears perk up, eyeing the camera that’s hanging from your neck.

“I didn’t know you are a photographer,” Harry hums, closing the cooler.

“Well, I’m not a professional, but I’ve been doing photoshoots here and there.”

“That’s amazing!” he smiles warmly.

“Thanks. Well, I gotta go because I’m running a little late. Have fun at the zoo!” you smile, at them before walking out. You reach the front door but stop for a moment to read the text the bride has sent you letting you know they are running a little late as well. That’s when you hear the conversation between Harry and Izzy coming from the kitchen.

“She looked so pretty!” Izzy sighs. You expect Harry to just hum or ignore her words, but for your surprise, he answers her.

“Yeah, she really does.”

You blush like a teenage girl, feeling your heart fluttering in your chest as you smile, walking out of the house.

The father-daughter duo is still out when you get home later. You make yourself a tea and sit out to the terrace with your computer, starting to edit the photos right away so you can send then over to the couple as soon as possible. They turned out pretty good, you love the colorful vibe the café had and it went well with the pair’s outfits.

You get so into editing that you don’t even notice Harry and Izzy arriving home, just when the sliding door opens and Izzy runs up to you, holding a stuffed animal that appears to be an otter.

“Y/N, look what daddy got me!” she cheers holding up the toy.

“Oh my god, it’s really cute!” You pull her to sit on your lap as she hugs the toy, clearly happy to have a new addition to her already existing army. Harry walks out with a bottle of water and a glass. Joining the two of you at the table, he pours some water for Izzy and makes her drink it.

“We spent an entire hour watching the otters,” he chuckles, brushing Izzy’s hair out of her face as she chugs the water down.

“Can’t blame you, they are really cute,” you chuckle. Izzy puts the empty glass down and hops off your lap before announcing that she is gonna show her new toy around in the backyard before running away from you.

“Are those… the pictures from today?” Harry shyly asks, eyeing your laptop’s screen.

“Oh, yeah. Wanted to get a headstart on editing,” you nod turning it so he can have a better look. “Want to see what I got so far?”

“Of course!” he nods smiling.

You click through the photos you’ve already edited, there are about ten in total and you’re quite satisfied with how they turned out to be.

“Wow, they look… really good, Y/N.”

“Thank you,” you smile blushing a little.

“What events do you usually do?”

“Mostly weddings and engagement shoots, birthdays, these kinds of stuff.”

“It’s really amazing,” he nods smiling.

“I… Hope you won’t be mad but I’ve shot a few pictures of Izzy too these past weeks,” you admit, hoping he won’t get upset for you, doing it without his permission. “I didn’t use them anywhere, I wasn’t planning to, I just thought they were nice moments.”

“Oh, can I see them?”

“Of course!”

Opening up the folder you put her pictures into, you start clicking through the few photos you took of her. There’s one of her during her swimming lesson, laughing happily as she holds onto the edge of the pool, her wet locks sticking to her head. Then there’s one when the two of you were baking cupcakes and she got icing all over her face and tried to lick it off, her tongue sticking out on the picture. There are some of her just roaming around the backyard, exploring the bugs hiding in the grass, some of her napping with her favorite stuffed animals on the couch and then the last one was taken when she was jumping in her bed, you caught her up in the air, the widest smile on her face as she was laughing straight into the camera.

“Y/N, these are… wow. They are all so good, I love them!”

“Really?” Your smile grows wide, happy that he likes them.

“Yeah! Do you think… do you think you can send them to me?”

“Of course! I can get them printed for you, if you’d like. There’s a place where I go to get my photos printed, they make them look like they were taken on an analog, old school camera, I love that little extra touch on the pictures.”

“That would be fantastic,” he smiles, clearly in awe of your work.

You spend the rest of the afternoon editing while Harry and Izzy take over the kitchen as usual. When you’re on your way up to your room with your laptop after you decided to call it a day, you catch them in there, Izzy making Harry dance around with her while they are chopping the veggies. Harry is swaying his lips to the rhythm, humming to the song as Izzy is jumping and twirling around, singing from the top of her lungs. Despite the terrible loss of her mother, there’s no doubt Izzy is having the best possible childhood, getting all the love she deserves from her dad and you feel happy you are here to witness them grow together.

You did not see your parents’ divorce coming, probably because it’s been over six years since you’ve moved out and you only saw them every other week at best. You always tried to come around as often as possible, wanting to spend time with Trevor and of course, them as well, but you had to focus on building your own life. You had to worry about your work, your own living space and not much later you started dating Keith so you were pretty busy to say the least. You weren’t there when things started to go downhill, but Trevor was. He had to suffer through every fight and screaming match they had without any support and you’ve always felt guilty about it, but you couldn’t just move back home. However you’ve always tried to do everything you could to support him through these hard times. He knew he could call you anytime he had enough of the spiteful atmosphere at home and you were quick to come to his rescue.

You were mad at your parents, there’s no need to lie about it. But not because of getting a divorce, you knew better than to expect them to suffer in a marriage they weren’t happy in, but the way they handled has always been just… unacceptable. Especially because in the midst of their anger and hatred towards each other they started to forget that they still had a kid living home who had to listen to everything they threw at each other, things no son should ever hear about his parents, no matter if they were true or not.

Being a teenager in high school is stressful enough as it is, but having to deal with your parents’ nasty divorce is just something no teenager should have to go through. Trevor has been dealing with it for a while now and he is trying his best to just shut them out whenever they are going at it, but sometimes it’s not that easy. That’s when he seeks comfort at you.

It’s a Thursday evening when your parents decide to drive Trevor up the wall with their screaming and fighting again. You’re watching a movie with Izzy and Harry in the entertainment room, working on your laptop simultaneously, confirming some photoshoots for the upcoming weekends. Harry has let Izzy play with his hair while watching the movie, so now she is all over her daddy, decorating his hair with little hairclips and hair ties while the man is just sitting there without a complaint.

Your phone starts buzzing on the couch and Trevor’s photo is flashing on the screen. Putting the laptop aside, you grab your phone and walk out of the room not to disturb them with your call.

“Hey!” you greet him happily, but your stomach immediately drops when you hear him draw a shaky breath on the other end of the line. “Trev? What’s wrong?”

“Can I please spend the night at yours?” he pleads weakly.

“What happened, are you alright?” you perk up right away.

“It’s just… dad came over this afternoon and they went at it again and now they are doing it over the phone, mom is like really out of her mind right now. I have a math test tomorrow and I don’t think I can sleep here like this. She is still screaming at him over the phone.”

“I’m leaving right now, pack a bag, alright?”

“Thanks,” he breathes out and ends the call. Rushing back into the entertainment room Harry turns to you while Izzy is still busy with his hair.

“Uh, I know it’s really sudden and all, but my brother just called, would it be fine if he spent the night over here?” Even though Harry himself told you it’s fine to have people over, you still feel like you need to ask for his permission, especially if your guest is planning to stay the night.

“Is he alright? Of course he can come over.” Sitting straight up he asks Izzy to sit down a little which she gladly does, turning her attention towards the movie.

“It’s just, um, our parents are having another scream match. They are… They are in the middle of getting a divorce and they are not handling it right,” you let out a bitter chuckle.

“Oh, I’m sorry about that. Do you need me to come with you? You seem very upset, you sure you can drive?”

“No, it’s alright, but thanks. I’m fine. I’ll be back soon with him and thank you so much for letting him stay,” you breathe out. He just nods with a sympathetic smile before you turn around and leave.

Through the drive over to the house where you grew up your anger just grows with each turn you take. You love your parents to death, they raised you in a quite unusual and hard situation, they had to grow up with you when they had you so young, but they always made sure to give you everything you needed. And you know they have the same kind of love towards Trevor, but their hatred for each other is blinding them and they probably don’t even realize how much it affects him, but you are not letting them ruin everything because they fell out of love. Trevor deserves the same kind of supportive and loving environment to grow up in just like the one you had and there’s nothing that could change that.

Pulling up to the driveway you take a deep breath as you march up to the front porch and use your keys to let yourself in. The shouting hits your ears right away, it’s coming from the kitchen, but Trevor is the first one you spot on the top of the stairs. His hood is on and he has a backpack in his hands as he comes down the stairs with a pained and tired face.

“Hey! Left the car open, go get in there, I’ll be out in a minute,” you softly tell him as you give him a quick hug.

“Thanks,” he mumbles before walking out.

Following your mother’s voice to the kitchen you find her with a half empty bottle of wine, cussing your father out through the phone.

“Go and fuck that bitch you went out to have dinner with last weekend! Yes I know about that!” she spats and you wince at her words.

“Mom!” you call out, but she doesn’t even register your voice.

“Fuck you, Fred! Fuck you!” she continues, so you raise your voice a little more.

“Mom!” This time she finally hears it and turning around she looks at you with wide eyes.

“Y/N! What are you doing here? You didn’t say you were coming,” she adds, her voice soft and weak this time, the anger long gone from it.

“I’m here to pick Trevor up. Put dad on speaker, I want to have a word with you two,” you tell her firmly and she gulps hard, nodding as she sets the phone to the counter, putting your dad on speaker.

“Y/N? What’s going on?” you hear him question from the other end of the line.

“I could ask the same thing!” you snap back, fed up with the way they have been acting. They might have lost a good chunk of their youth because they were busy taking care of you after having at just nineteen, but that doesn’t give them the right to act like literal cavemen in front of your brother.

“Trevor called me all upset, begging me to come and get him. What is wrong with you two? You have been at each other’s throats all the damn time, it is not healthy not just for Trevor but to either of you!”

“Y/N, sweetie, there’s just a lot going on—“ your mother tries to explain, but you cut her off.

“I don’t fucking care! Whatever is going on between the two of you, Trevor should be first! No matter what! He needs you both, he needs the support and love, but he is only getting the screaming and fighting. This is not right!”

“It’s a hard situation, you have to be patient with us, Y/N,” your father sighs over the phone and you can’t hold your ironic laughter back.

“Patient? I’ve been patient with you these past about five months since you’ve been literally tearing each other to pieces. Do yourselves and everyone else a favor and just get it over with. Dad, pick up all your stuff and don’t come here for mom’s sake. Mom, don’t snoop around dad’s life, because it’s not your business anymore. Stop being ignorant and maybe start to think about the kid you still have living near you.”

Your words might have been harsh, but it needed to be said. You can tell by your mother’s shocked expression and from the way your dad is dead silent in the call that your message finally hit them in the head and you hope they are willing to get their shit together so Trevor doesn’t lose his mind.

“Trevor is staying with me tonight, we’ll see when he wants to come back, but you better think about what I just told you,” you warn them before walking out and leaving them to think about their actions finally.

Trevor stays silent on the road back to Harry’s and you don’t try to force him to talk, it’s clear he has had enough for today. Arriving back home you park your car next to Harry’s Range Rover and the two of you walk inside in silence.

It’s past Izzy’s bedtime so you’re not surprised to find only Harry in the kitchen when you walk into the house. Harry seems cautious, almost worried as he spots you and Trevor in the hallway.

“Trevor, this is my boss, Harry. Harry, this is my brother, Trevor,” you introduce them to each other quickly. They shake hands with a manly nod.

“Thanks for letting me stay here tonight,” Trevor clears his throat, feeling a little out of place.

“No worries. Feel free to use any of the guest bedrooms,” Harry smiles softly.

“Oh, we’ll be fine sleeping in my room,” you assure him but Harry shakes his head at your words.

“We have plenty of space. Please, use them!”

“Thank you,” Trevor mumbles and you shoot Harry a thankful look before walking your brother upstairs.

You opt for the room next to yours, Help Trevor get comfortable, making sure he has everything he needs for the night.

“Did you get into a fight with mom and dad?” he asks, when you are sitting on the edge of his bed, about to leave him alone.

“I just told them to get their shit together,” you chuckle, giving his leg a squeeze under the covers. He cracks a smile at you, but it’s not as genuine as it should be. “I’ll drive you to school in the morning. My room is right next to this one, come over if you need anything, alright?”

“Thanks,” he mumbles, pulling the covers up to his chin.

“Good night, Trev,”you tell him switching the lights off and walking towards the door.

“Good night, Y/N,” he calls after you before you close the door, letting out a long breath.

As you make your way down to the kitchen you see that Harry is still there, his eyes snap up to you, filled with concern and worry.

“Everything alright?” he asks as you make yourself a tea.

“Yeah, he was just fed up with the constant screaming. I can’t blame him, my mother didn’t even realize I was there until I raised my voice at her.”

“I’m sorry about that. Must be hard dealing with high school and a nasty divorce.”

“It is,” you sigh. “But thank you for letting him stay, really.” “I meant it when I said it’s just as much your home as it is ours. He can come over anytime, don’t worry about that,” he shrugs.

“Thank you. I’ll drive him to school in the morning, but I’ll be back by the time you leave, is that alright?”

“Of course,” he smiles warmly. “You two look a lot alike.”

“We get that a lot,” you chuckle. “It’s the eyes and nose shape, I think. We got those from our mother.”

“People say I look like my sister too, but I don’t really see it, if I’m being honest,” he chuckles lightly.

“Yeah? Why?”

“No idea,” he shakes his head laughing. “I just don’t see it, but I couldn’t tell you really.”

Sipping on your tea you stay in the kitchen with Harry, the light conversation about his sister and eventually his mother eases the stress that has been gripping on your chest from the encounter you had with your parents earlier. You’re not sure if he tried to talk you through it because he saw how much you needed the distraction or if it’s just how he is, but either way, he really helped you to relax.

Cleaning after yourself the two of you head to bed, saying good night to each other before disappearing in your rooms.

“This place is like… really huge,” Trevor sighs in awe when the two of you are eating breakfast together the next morning.

“I told you, it’s a mansion,” you chuckle, digging into your oatmeal. “I’ll show you around next time you’re here.”

“T’was nice of Harry to let me stay,” he hums.

“Mhm, he is a cool boss,” you smile at him.

“And kinda handsome…” Glancing at Trevor you see the sly smirk on his lips and you give him a stern look.

“Stop right there, alright? No funny thoughts!”

“Funny thoughts?” he laughs leaning back in his seat. “I just made a statement that he is a nice looking man, that’s it. Do you not agree?”

“I’m not commenting on the topic,” you diplomatically answer.

“On what topic?” Harry appears from the stairs, making you both turn his way. “Good morning,” he smiles warmly.

“Morning!” Trevor nods his way before he turns back to you, still smirking. You narrow your eyes at him before answering Harry.

“The topic doesn’t matter. Morning, Harry!”

He pours himself some coffee that you brew earlier before joining the two of you at the dining table. He strikes up a conversation with Trevor, asking him about school and his future plans once he graduates and luckily, Trevor is on his best behavior despite the comment he made earlier, he is not trying to put you into an uncomfortable situation. He knows better, because if he upsets you now, he will not be returning to the mansion, that’s for sure.

“Alright, get your stuff, we are leaving in five,” you tell him when both of you are done eating. Nodding he disappears upstairs as you take care of the dishes quickly.

“Is he staying tonight as well?” Harry asks, following you into the kitchen.

“Oh, no. I’m sure mom wants to talk to him after last night, so it’s better if he goes home.”

“Hope things will get easier for him,” he smiles and you return it, thankful that he let him stay here when he really needed a place for himself.

“Thanks for everything, Harry” Trevor smiles at him when he arrives with his backpack.

“Of course, come back soon, but under more peaceful conditions,” he chuckles nodding in his way.

“I’ll be back soon!” you call out before walking out of the house with your brother.

“So how long have you been crushing on your boss?” Trevor asks in the car and your eyes widen as you try to keep the car straight in the lane.

“Excuse you?”

“Come on, Y/N. It’s kinda obvious, you swoon at everything the man says, haven’t seen you this soft since your high school graduation,” he chuckles, finding your reaction quite entertaining, but you’re not enjoying the situation that much.

“I do not have a crush on Harry,” you shake your head laughing, but you can’t ignore the knot in your stomach at your own words. Was this that big of a lie?

“That’s too bad because I think he has a thing for you too,” he shrugs, carelessly staring out the window, like it’s that casual to discuss you and your boss having possible feelings for each other.

“When did you become an expert on these stuff?” you huff, glancing at him shortly before turning back to face the road.

“I’m not an expert, but I’m not blind either. And I saw the way he looked at you.”

“What way?” you scoff.

“Like he is thankful you are walking this Earth.”

“Did you take this from a rom-com on Netflix?” you tease him, but he just shrugs. “Of course he is thankful, I’m helping him with his daughter. It’s not easy being a single parent and I’m helping him immensely. But there’s nothing else behind that.”

“Sure, good luck convincing yourself,” he sighs when you park the car down at his school. “Thanks for the ride and the night too. I’ll call you later.”

Leaning over the console he gives you a quick hug before hopping out of the car and walking towards the main building.

Arriving back home you find Izzy sitting on the couch with a bowl of cereal on her lap, watching her favorite morning cartoon, but no sign of Harry and for a moment you get scared you got back too late, but then you realize he wouldn’t leave Izzy home alone.

“Hey Sunshine, did you sleep well?” you ask, caressing her rosy cheek as you join her on the couch.

“Mhm, what are we doing today?” she asks, showing a spoonful of cereal into her mouth.

“You have French class today with Lyon and in the afternoon I thought we could learn about otters. You seemed to like them a lot at the zoo.”

“Yes! They are so cute!” she cheers happily just when you hear footsteps coming from the stairs. Turning around you spot Harry walking towards the living room, but your lips part immediately when you see that he is putting on another shirt, his naked chest on display since he hasn’t buttoned it fully. What you saw not long ago from your balcony is now so much closer, the swallows peeking out from under the shirt and you see the little cross pendant hanging between his pecs, something you’ve only seen if he pulled it out of his shirts which didn’t happen that often.

Harry stops in his tracks when he sees you on the couch with Izzy and a blush paints his cheeks.

“Oh, I’m sorry. Didn’t know you were back,” he breathes out, his fingers working fast on the buttons to get himself presentable again though you wish he would just get rid of the whole thing… “Izzy spilled some juice on me so I had to change quickly,” he explains, finishing with the buttons and he quickly fixes it so he looks just as spotless as always.

“You poured too much into my cup!” Izzy defends herself furrowing her eyebrows at her dad.

“Of course it was my fault, who else’s would have it been?” Harry huffs as he presses a kiss to the top of her head. “Y/N, I have something to ask you.”

“Go ahead.”

“I know it’s pretty sudden and on a very short notice but could you maybe look after Izzy tonight? Niall called me and begged to meet up with him for a few drinks. I would call Ruth, but she is out of town this week.”

“Oh sure! No problem,” you smile at him.

“Are you sure you don’t have anything to do? Don’t feel pressured to say yes, I should have asked in advance, it’s just—“ “Harry, it’s fine. I’m okay looking after her tonight,” you assure him before he talks himself down from letting you do it. “Go have fun, you barely get out of the house without Izzy.” If you’re being honest the only place he goes to without his daughter is work and it’s a little saddening, he deserves some time out from his daddy duties.

“Thank you,” he smiles at you with gratitude. “I won’t be out too long, I promise.”

“No worries, have fun with Niall,” you wave in dismiss.

“Thanks. Have a great day. Be good, baby. I’ll see you in the afternoon.” Harry kisses Izzy’s forehead before grabbing his suit jacket, wallet, keys and phone and heads out to start his day.

“Alright, daddy is off to work and we also have a day ahead of us. Come on, let’s get started,” you smile at Izzy who nods in agreement.

Harry swears he didn’t come home earlier than his usual because he feels bad for asking you to cover the evening, but you know that’s a blatant lie. He is home by three and frees you for the rest of the afternoon, leaving you with about two extra hours. He informs you that he would be leaving around seven, so dinner time will still be his duty, but you’ll have to put Izzy to bed at her usual time, which works perfectly for you.

A little before seven Harry disappears to take a quick shower and get changed before heading out, while you sit out in the living room with Izzy, reading her from a book she chose after dinner.

When Harry returns, he is dressed more casually than he usually does for work, wearing a pair of beige slacks and a black shirt tucked into it, the first three buttons left undone, showing just a hint of his tattooed chest for the viewers.

“Okay, I just called a car, it’ll be here any minute. Please call me if anything happens, I could come home anytime.”

“Harry, I take care of her all day, I’m sure we’ll be fine for one evening as well,” you chuckle, trying to ease his nervousness about leaving his daughter home at a time he is not used to.

“Right,” he lets out a soft chuckle. “Thank you again. And Izzy, be good. Y/N will put you to bed tonight, but I’ll be here in the morning, okay?”

“Okay!” she sings, completely fine with the new arrangement.

“Alright, see you soon, good night!” he calls out on his way out of the house.

Sitting at the rooftop bar, Harry and Niall take up a small table for two near the railing so they have a nice view of the city below them. The waitress brings their order, tequila on the rocks for Harry and a good pint for Niall, and the latter man can’t ignore the fact how pretty she is in her tight white shirt and short black skirt, smiling coyly at the men as she asks if they want anything else.

“We’re good for now, Darling. Thank yeh,” Niall smirks and even winks at the woman, who is seemingly enjoying the attention from him, but deep down she would be happier if it was Harry who was trying to flirt with him. However he is busy on his phone, typing out an email even at this ungodly hour, which pisses his friend off.

“Would you stop being a workaholic prick and maybe glance at the woman that wants to fuck the shit out of you?” Niall snaps at him, grabbing his attention, but he just rolls his eyes.

“That would require my interest as well, which is not there.”

“That’s fucking sad. Really, mate. How long are you going to act like a crybaby? I’m getting tired of your long face. I get it, shit happened, but you eventually have to move on.”

Harry tries to ignore his words, eyes glued to the screen of his phone hoping his friend would just drop it, but that’s not what Niall is like. So instead of leaving him to be, he grabs his phone, snaps it right out of his hands and then shoves it into his pocket.

“Hey! What the fuck?!” he growls at his friend who just gives him a hard look.

“Harry, I’m worried about you. You do nothing, just work and be with Izzy.”

“So you’re saying I shouldn’t spend time with my daughter?” he asks twisting his words.

“You know that’s not what I mean. Spend as much time with her as possible, but don’t forget to take care of yourself.”

“I’m taking care of myself. I sleep and eat well and I workout regularly. I don’t see what else I might need.” “Fuck. You need to fuck,” he points out, making Harry roll his eyes again.

“You know, sometimes I question why we are even friends…” Harry grumbles under his breath as he takes a sip from his drink, feeling like he definitely needs the alcohol if Niall is gonna pick on him all night.

“Because I’m the one who pushes you out of your pit of sorrow, m’friend. And right now I feel like I need to step in, because you are turning into a bitter old man.”

“I’m not bitter,” Harry narrows his eyes at him.

“And neither are you old, so why are you acting like you are?”

“Look, I know that you are a fan of the bachelor life, going to parties, sleeping around with any woman you can get, but that’s just not for me, it never was, not even a long time ago.”

“I’m not trying to get you to act like a frat boy, Har. I know you are too soft for that, but I think it might be time for you to, I don’t know, open up a bit.”

“Open up?”

“Yeah! Go out, meet new people, preferably women,” he adds with a knowing look. “It’s been more than three years, Harry. You can’t stay at home and mope around forever.”

“I really don’t think we should be having this conversation right now.”

“If not now, then when? I tried to talk to you about it many times, but you always just dodged it, so I gave you more time to adjust to the situation, but I think we are over that,” Niall sighs, leaning onto the table. “We both know time flies by. Soon Izzy will go to school, she’ll have her own little life and before you could even blink twice, she is gonna be a teenager, barely talking to you, only caring about some boyband, her friends and shows. The time will come when you’ll have to step back a little and I don’t want you to stay alone.”

“First of all, Izzy is 4 and she won’t be allowed to even think about being independent until she is twenty,” Harry starts off as Niall rolls his eyes at him.

“Yeah, sure. You’ll have an amazing time when she becomes a teenager.”

“Don’t even talk about her being a teenager.”

“It’s going to happen!” Niall snaps and Harry narrows his eyes at him. “Okay, let’s just calm down.” He takes a deep breath even though he is the only one getting mad right now. Harry might feel uncomfortable, but he is not one to lose his temper that easily. Niall on the other hand is known to be a little too passionate at times.

“Alright. Please know that I’m just trying to be a good friend. What happened is tragic and I can’t even imagine what you went through, though I was here all along so I have a slight guess. I’m happy that you are doing vehemently better now, it’s amazing, but I know that you’ll be miserable if you stay single forever.”

“I’m not gonna start dating, Niall. It’s just… too soon. I can’t get into a relationship now.” Harry shakes his head, gulping from his drink again, the alcohol burns down his throat as he grimaces shortly.

“I get it that you don’t want a relationship, but dating might not be that bad. I’m pretty sure there are some hot single moms you know who would love to go out with you for dinner or some shit.”

“I’m not interested in any of them,” he shrugs.

“Then what about Y/N?” Harry’s eyes snap up at his friend, flexing his jaw out of instinct.

“What about her?”

“She is pretty, nice and funny, completely your type. Why don’t you try it with her?”

“She works for me,” Harry replies right away.

“No one fucking cares,” Niall scoffs. “And because you didn’t say that you don’t like her, I assume you are into her.”

Harry lets out a heavy sighs shaking his head. You’ve not been the only one who’s been noticing the other. Ever since he has caught you watching him while doing his morning yoga, he couldn’t shake the thought of you and he took a special notice about a lot of things about you. Like the way you scrunch your nose every time you smile when Izzy says a word wrong, or the way you like to put up your hair into a ponytail when you’re playing with her in the backyard and there’s always a tiny strand that hangs lose at the back of your neck because it’s too short to reach up to the ponytail, but his favorite thing is how your voice is a little hoarse in the morning when you come down for the first time from upstairs. The thought that he is always the first person you talk to in the morning just brings this pleasant feeling into the pit of his stomach, something he hasn’t felt in a long time.

He can’t deny that he finds you beautiful either, how could he not? You’re just a wonderful person inside and out and he is thankful his daughter is in such good hands when he is away at work. But he hasn’t dared to think further than this, his mind just doesn’t let him, however Niall’s words are now poking at the sleeping giant.

“Stop assuming things,” Harry mumbles, looking away from his friend, feeling like he is being grilled.

“Stop denying things,” Niall retorts, earning a huff from Harry. “Okay, don’t ask her out just yet, but try to get closer to her. Become friends, try to open up and get to know her a little more!”

“I don’t want to get closer to her!” he replies, but he can easily point out how big of a lie that is, even though he is trying his best to make himself believe that it’s not.

“So you don’t have a crush on her?” Niall raises his eyebrows at him.

“Where are we, in middle school? I’m 31, I don’t have crushes,” Harry scoffs.

“Okay so then you don’t mind it if I ask her out?”

“You are not asking her out, Niall,” he sternly replies, reaching for his drink once again, that’s nearing its end very closely. He needs to order another one if Niall decides to be an asshole all night.

“Why not? He seemed to like me when we met, I think we both would have a nice evening, might even take her home—“

“Shut up, Niall. You are not going out with her!”

“Really? What’s stopping me?” he smirks, knowing well what he is doing and where this is heading. Harry opens his mouth, but then no words come out, because he realizes what he wanted to say should not be said out loud.

Because I like her, a tiny voice tells him in his mind. Niall’s smirk grows even bigger, because even though Harry didn’t answer, his face tells it all, confirming what he has been trying to force out of him all evening.

“Yeah, just as I thought,” he laughs, taking a few gulps from his beer. “I’m not telling you to fuck her brains out immediately, but it might be nice if you just got to know her a bit more. And if things seem to take, like… a turn, if you know what I mean, don’t chicken out, just go with it.”

“You know, Niall, you should worry about your own love life the way you worry about mine.”

“There’s nothing to worry about!” He beams, clearly without a worry. “I’m too good of a catch to be tied down, so I’m enjoying life to the fullest right now.”

“Aren’t you tired of waking up next to a different woman every morning?” Harry sighs, feeling exhausted just to think about the way his friend lives.

“Don’t judge for something you never tried. I like it, it fulfills all my needs, why should I change?”

“Because you worry about me ending up alone when it’s most likely gonna be you.” Harry gives him a look, but it doesn’t seem to affect him. He shrugs it off easily.

“Difference is that I like being alone, but you don’t. You are wired to have a partner in the long run while I’m perfectly fine with my adventures. So do me a favor, and be less of a little hermit. You’ll thank me later.”

Niall’s words stick to Harry’s head more than he would have liked it. The two friends stay at the bar until about midnight and while Harry leaves to go straight home, Niall heads to another direction with the pretty waitress on his arm, who served their drinks relentlessly all night.

Arriving back home Harry tips the driver generously before heading inside, seeing that you’re still up, the lights in the living room and the TV illuminating the area. Walking further inside he spots you cozied up on the couch, a thick blanket thrown over yourself as you watch some kind of detective documentary, chewing on your bottom lip in focus. He can’t help the smile that tugs on his lips at the sight of you, taking just a split second to savor the moment and wrap it up in his mind.

“Hey, why are you still up?” he questions walking inside. Your eyes tear away from the screen, blinking up at him as you smile slightly, pushing yourself up into a sitting position. Rounding the couch Harry joins you, sitting down as he runs a hand through his hair.

“Got caught up a little,” you chuckle, nodding your head towards the TV. “Did you have a good time?”

“As much as it’s possible to have a good time with Niall around,” he chuckles, making you smile.

“He is not that bad, is he?”

“He can be a little asshole sometimes,” he admits. “But it was fine, we had a nice… talk.”

“I’m glad,” you smile sheepishly, before turning back to the TV.

Harry’s eyes snap to the screen as well, but he is not following the case at all, his mind is busy thinking about everything Niall has told him.

It really has been three long and torturous years without his beloved wife and just as Niall said, the beginning of this time was almost lethal. He never thought there would be a day when he would wake up and not feel like curling up into a ball and just cry all day. Those times are now gone, because with a lot of help from his friends, family and even a therapist, he was able to find his purpose in life again: his daughter.

Harry knows that his friend is right, he can’t live his life on his own, that’s just not how he is built, but it’s not as easy as it seems. Especially with the haunting thoughts he has been harboring, kept away from everyone in his life, because he has always been too afraid to say them out loud. That would make them become even realer than they already feel to him.

Sitting on the couch next to Harry you glance at him for a second and can almost see the gears turning in his head.

“Everything alright?” you softly ask. His green eyes flicker over to you, as if he is debating whether he should talk or not.

“Can I ask you something?”

“Of course,” you nod.

“But it’s kind of personal.”

“Okay, then ask and I’ll decide if I want to answer or not,” you chuckle softly, pushing yourself up a little so you can focus on him better.

“After things ended with your… ex, when you found out that he was cheating on you… How long did it take you to get back out to the field, if you know what I mean.”

His question surprises you, it really is a personal matter and you’re not sure why he felt the need to ask you about it especially now, but you have a guess why it’s relatable for him. You lost someone you loved and though the situation is a very different nature, somehow it’s still similar in a way.

“Well, I told you earlier that it was the kind of situation where I blamed myself for what he did,” you start off and Harry nods, patiently and curiously listening to what you are saying. “I was convinced that he cheated because I wasn’t enough, because I didn’t give him everything he wanted and that it was all my fault. It took me weeks to see clearly and realize that even if I wasn’t giving him everything, it wouldn’t have given him the right to cheat on me. Sometimes it’s really hard to lift the blame off yourself, especially when you were the one putting it there.”

Harry’s lips part at your words and because he is not speaking, you’re not sure if it’s the good or bad kind. You really wish you could just read his honest thoughts, but it seems like he is keeping them to himself so you continue.

“I think it took me a good, like… four months to actually move on. I went on a date for the first time about six months after Keith and I broke up. I’m not saying I’m over the fact that I was cheated on, but it’s not stopping me anymore to live my life. I had to accept that just because of what happened, I still deserve happiness and to be loved.”

Love is a beautiful thing, but it’s very powerful and you learned it the hard way. To love and be loved is essential, love makes life so much better and more special, but it can also scar you terribly and leave you dried out and in pain. You have to learn to accept the love you get and remember it whenever you are not getting enough. It’s a rollercoaster, but the highs make the whole ride worth it.

Harry stays silent as you turn your attention back at the TV, seeing that he is busy chewing on your words. Whatever his reason was to ask you, he is clearly processing the answer he got, making his own conclusions and you wouldn’t want to bother him while he does that.

The documentary soon ends and you realize how late it really is. Saturday is your day off, but you don’t want to sleep through the whole thing, you have a few errands to run. So switching the TV off you fold the blanket and drop it into the basket next to the couch. Harry snaps out of his thoughts when you stand up from the couch, realizing that you’ve shut the TV off already.

“I’m going to bed, you should too,” you smile at him softly as he nods, standing up as well.

You’re already on the stairs when Harry calls out after you. Turning around you keep one foot on the next step, glancing over at him, still standing by the couch.

“I’m… I’m really sorry he couldn’t appreciate you.”

You smile at him warmly, because it says so much about him as a person. Apologizing for something he had absolutely no control over, something someone else did, someone he doesn’t even know. Yet he still felt the need to say sorry.

“It’s alright. I’ll find the person who’ll give me the love I deserve,” you tell him before turning back around and walking away.

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

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cjsinkythoughts · 3 years

Text

FATWS One Shot #3 - Stars, Stripes, and Bubbles

Word Count: 1912

Warnings: Cursing, Fluff, erm…a Relationship that You Want to Happen but Know Never Will

Setting/Characters: The first part of Captain America: The Winter Soldier in 2014 after Steve’s hostage mission; Reader, Steve Rogers, mentions of Sam Wilson, Natasha Romanoff, and Nick Fury

A/N: This…isn’t what I thought it was gonna turn out to be. But I like it, it’s cute, and I needed something pure with the shield after that ending scene, so I’m posting it.

I have a few more One Shots planned that take place during TWS so I’ll be writing those today and tomorrow. This week is a lot less hectic than last week (I was being trained in another area of my job last week, hence crazy hours), so expect more One Shots coming this week. Again, I’m trying to post them chronologically, but there might be some out of order depending on what you guys request and when, which is totally fine!

For today, I have the Reader meeting Sam (which is kinda what this was supposed to be, but…oh well) and more about the notebook planned. Also Reader meeting Bucky unofficially for the first time because he’s, you know, brainwashed and stuff. Later this week I’m planning on AoU stuff which will include the Party Scene and Wanda interactions.

If I can get through those by Friday when the new episode comes out, I’ll start on CA:CW which will include Reader officially meeting Bucky and possibly the airport scene if you guys are interested in that. Then I’ve got some Wakanda scenes and some Peter interactions. If not, I’ll start CW:CA next Sunday. Once the backstory is set up and completed chronologically, I might go back and just write some drabbles and stuff of random moments - kinda like this one.

I did get a request earlier for Bucky’s perspective on the dancing scene in Part 4.2, so I’m planning on doing more rewrites of scenes in Bucky’s perspective, but that’ll come after the One Shots, so hopefully next week.

I think that’s all…umm…yeah. Once again, not beta’d so please excuse any mistakes! Thank you so much for reading! I’m so glad you’re all enjoying this almost as much as I am! Be kind to yourselves and others! Enjoy reading and stay tuned!

FATWS Masterlist

cjsinkythoughts Masterlist

The beeping of the timer made you groan and set down the book you were digging into. You were just starting to get to the good part, but the food smelled so good, so you decided it could wait.

You were so focused on your task of getting your breakfast ready that you didn’t hear your front door open or the footsteps that followed it shutting, the thud of boots hitting the floor just around the corner. Setting the ready food on the counter, you jumped at the arms that wrapped around your shoulders and waist.

“Shouldn’t you be more observant for a spy?”

You gave a hum at his deep voice, tilting your head slightly as he placed his cheek on your shoulder, nose pressing up against the column of your throat. “Shouldn’t you be heading over to the Triskelion for your debriefing with Fury?”

He growled at the mention of the mission he was just sent on yesterday morning. The first few assignments he had surprised you with how quick they were over, but then you remembered yours were a bit different than his and you got used to him being back within the next couple days.

“We don’t have secrets right? I’m so fucking tired of secrets.”

Your eyebrow quirked up as you turned to face him, his hands slipping down to your hips. You took in his state; he was still in uniform, dirt on his face, hair unruly, the shield on his back gray with the dust that covered it. He obviously hadn’t even gone to his own place yet, meaning he just got back. “What happened?”

He huffed, letting go of you to rub his face tiredly. “Natasha. She didn’t tell me that Fury sent her to do something other than what we were supposed to be doing.”

“They’re spies, bubs. It’s what they do.”

“You’re a spy. You wouldn’t do that.”

Chuckling a little at his comparison, you shook your head. “Our relationship is a little…different than yours and Nat’s.”

“I wish they’d put you on my missions. I don’t know why they don’t. We work well together, don’t we?”

You snorted. “That’s probably the reason.” At his confused look, you shook your head. “Never mind. Just…we’re closer. I know you better than they do. You can’t compare them to me. It isn’t fair.”

He grumbled, eyes glancing down to your feet. “They still should’ve told me.”

“Hey,” you tilted his head back up to meet your gaze. “It was a hostage mission, right?” He nodded. “Did you save the hostages?” Another nod, which made you shrug. “Then there you go. You did your job and you saved people. It was a success. That’s all that matters.”

“He got away.” Steve argued. “He got away because she didn’t feel the goddamn need to tell me-”

“She was following orders. Don’t be mad at her.”

“You’re right.” His quick admission stunned you for a moment, until he continued speaking. “It’s Fury’s fault. I think I’m gonna go-”

He started moving away, but you tugged him back, shaking your head again. “Not yet, bubba. You can talk to him later. Let’s get you cleaned up first. Then we’ll eat and you can tell me how that run you went on yesterday was. Okay?”

His features softened and he nodded, setting his forehead against yours. “Okay.”

You had half of your dresser sectioned off for Steve’s things. SHIELD had moved him to DC about a year previous to be closer to HQ, especially after the Helicarrier became decommissioned for repairs. You already had an apartment in DC - it was where you stayed for the most part, hence the reason you were more than willing to stay in New York for a couple years.

The moment he moved in about ten minutes from you, you knew, just like in DC, he’d be spending a lot of time at your place. Which is why you made the executive decision to have him bring a bag over one night and unpack his stuff.

It wasn’t the first shower he took at your place and it most certainly wouldn’t be the last.

While he was cleaning up, you got to work washing his suit and the shield. You teased him by saying you’d just throw his suit in the washer and the shield in the dishwasher, but you wouldn’t actually.

His suit was air drying by the window and you were at the sink scrubbing off the shield, wishing you had a backyard and a hose, when he padded back into the room, hair plastered to his forehead, dripping down his temples, sweats and a t-shirt clinging to his body. He shook his head, leaning on the counter besides you. You always found it amusing how big he looked in your tiny kitchen.

“You know you don’t have to do that, right?”

You scoffed. “If you think I’m gonna let you walk around in that disgusting thing all day, you, my friend, are nuts.”

He chuckled, moving behind you and setting his chin on your shoulder, his larger hands stopping yours from their movements. “At least let me do this, then.” He murmured, taking the scrub brush from you, spreading the bubbles over the rings of the shield.

“You can help me. But I like finishing what I started.” You whispered back, reaching for a clean rag and dunking it into the soapy water, wiping down the star in the middle.

He placed a gentle kiss to your jaw, relenting easily. “Fine.”

You two worked in silence, the water running over the shield, taking the dirt and grime with it, hands occasionally brushing each other. Almost finished, Steve placed his hand over yours, moving it over to a certain spot. “The brush won’t get it.” He explained, his low voice sounding right beside your ear.

Smiling, you turned your head to look at him. There was a crease between his brow as he concentrated on getting rid of the smudge on the precious metal. Your lips turned up when you noticed a dark spot on his jaw he must’ve missed. He looked at you with a grin when you started giggling. “What’s got you giggling so pretty, honey?”

Letting go of the side of the shield you were holding, you reached up to wipe the dirt on his jaw that he missed with your thumb. “Can’t let that handsome face of yours get stained. And, speaking of stains,” you turned back to the shield, holding it up for the both of you to look at, the soft light from the window above the sink making it shine even more. “You think we got it all?”

“Hmmm. I think you missed a spot.”

Your eyebrows furrowed. “What? Where?”

He leaned closer to the shield, face right besides yours, cheeks practically brushing together. “Right…here.” His hand that you didn’t notice cupping water, came up and splashed your face.

You let out a shriek, stepping back, further into his chest, your jaw dropped. “Steven! My pjs!”

He cackled, leaning back and holding his chest, before gasping when you did the same thing back to him. “You’re on!” He grabbed his shield and filled it with water, making you squeak and try getting out of his hold. Stupid Super Soldier strength. He dumped it on you, water falling on your head, sliding down your back and making your pajamas stick to you. You quickly retaliated, grabbing the facet and turning it towards him, laughing at his shout.

The water fight continued for a few more minutes, bowls and cups coming into play, with Steve diving behind the counter and you slipping on the floor.

“Woah, there, honey!” He chuckled, the chortles coming from your lips reassuring him that you weren’t hurt. He leaned over you, reaching his hand out. “You okay?”

You nodded, taking his hand. “Let’s call it a truce, yeah?”

“Truce? Hell no! I won!”

“You did not! You just got lucky!”

He pulled you up, tugging you close. “Alright, alright. Fine. A truce. Let’s get you into some dry clothes, now. Don’t want you gettin’ sick, honey.”

You shook your head. “That’s actually a myth.”

“I’ll take note of that.”

An eyebrow of yours raised. “In that little notebook you never let me read?”

He smiled innocently. “Maybe. I added something else yesterday.” He informed you while tugging you down the hall to your room.

“Oh?”

“Yeah. Marvin Gaye’s Trouble Man Soundtrack.”

You hummed with an approving nod. “Yeah. That was a good suggestion. Who gave it to you?’

“This guy I met on my run.” He shrugged, heading over to his dresser as you grabbed a couple towels. “Sam Wilson. He seemed like a good guy.”

“Yeah?”

He nodded, grabbed another set of sweats and a shirt, before turning to you and taking the towel you handed him. “Yeah. He served two tours in Afghanistan. Now he’s working down at the VA. Told me to drop by sometime.”

“Aww.” You stood on your tiptoes to ruffle his hair. “My bubba’s all grown up and making friends.”

He rolled his eyes, ducking away from your hand and running his own through his hair. “Yeah, yeah.” His smile dropped as he looked at the clothes in his hand. “I think I’m gonna head out now. I should talk to Fury.”

You frowned. “You have all day, Steve. Just eat first, okay?”

“Okay.”

He was holding something back, you could tell. Picking out your clothes for the day, you decided to question him about it. “What’re you thinking about?”

Your backs turned to each other, you started changing, just as you’d down countless times before. “I was thinking about going to the Air and Space Museum again. If you wanna come.”

“You know I do.”

It was quiet for a few more minutes, only the sound of rustling clothes and zippers filling the air. “I-I think I’m gonna go after. To see her, I mean.”

You froze, keeping your heart and your breathing steady so he wouldn’t pick up on anything. “It’ll be good for you. She…she always knows what to say.”

“So do you.”

You cleared your throat, finishing with the final touches of your outfit. “I actually forgot that I have some stuff to finish up at HQ today, so I dunno if I’ll be able to go-”

His hand grabbed your wrist, turning you around, eyes pleading and face fallen. “Please. Please come with me. Honey. I need you there. With me. Please.”

You inwardly cursed yourself for falling for those puppy eyes, a soft sigh leaving your lips. “Okay, bubs. I’ll come with you.” You might regret it later, but the relief that washed over his features was worth it for now. The power he had over you scared you, especially since you knew he didn’t realize the hold he had on you, but you couldn’t help it. It happened quickly, swiftly, and you were down before you recognized it. And you didn’t know how to deal with it other than taking it one day at a time.

“Let’s go get some breakfast, now. I can promise it’s at least decent.”

The beam he shot you made your heart flutter no matter how hard you tried keeping calm. “I’m sure it’s better than anything I could ever make.” He pulled you close, lips brushing over your forehead. “Thank you.”

“For what?” You sighed, leaning your head against his, eyes closing.

“Existing.”

***********

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#cjswriting #fatws series oneshots #falcon and the winter soldier series oneshots #fatws series oneshot 3 #fatws series #stars stripes and bubbles oneshot #steve rogers x reader #kinda #💛🧭#❤🐦💙🦾⏪

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gisachi · 3 years

Text

Better late than never?? Supposed to post on the day itself but of course I couldn’t. This is my rushed contribution to the prompt: domestic mixed with black knight&princess.

ShinRan Week Day 6

Prompt: Domestic (+ Black Knight&Princess)

Words: ~2.5k

“Not just once, but twice! Who was it that saved my life again? Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what, uh, the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrow- sorrowful? - face under this moonlight. Oh wow this is cheesy.”

Ran leans on the arm of the couch, bound script covering her resigned face. If she had a hundred yen for every single complaint coming out of this detective’s mouth, she’d have enough to buy two entrance passes to Tropical Land for each day of the week, plus snacks and drinks.

“I went here because I thought you’d be a more immersive practice partner than ‘tou-san. You are worse.”

“I’m sorry, princess, if my mom being an actress ruined your expectations of me.”

“Oh, for sure. And otou-san doesn't destroy the scene by dropping nonsensical comments. And lie on the couch while reading the script. So he’s better by a lot.”

Shinichi props his body up, eyes rolling sarcastically before throwing a look at the lady on the edge. “To be fair, you came barging into my house so early on a Sunday. This is justified.”

“Shinichi, eleven in the morning isn’t early.”

With a stubborn grumble, the detective flops back into the cushions, script on his lap sliding to the floor. “ ’M tired Ran, long case last night, let me sleep.”

“Please, you’re my last option! School festival is in less than two weeks, and I can’t possibly ask Araide-sensei to spare time on a weekend outside of our rehearsal schedule when he’s busy working—”

The lightning speed Shinichi jolts upright causes Ran to cut herself short. “Araide-sensei is the cloaked knight?”

“Yes, didn’t I tell you?”

“You didn’t.”

“Really? I-” she pauses, delayed in taking in the curt iciness of his response when he was so apathetic five seconds ago. On anyone else it’s clear what that tone implies, but she’s never heard it on him.

“Do you have a beef with Araide-sensei?” she asks.

“A beef?”

Ran arches an eyebrow, skeptic. Shinichi meets her gaze, eyes slightly thinning before glancing away, cheeks crimson.

“I mean— Why Araide-sensei? Shouldn’t he be busy, I dunno, being a doctor, than being a fictional knight or something.”

“All the guys in our class were too shy and declined, so Sonoko asked Araide-sensei when he happened to come in for a checkup. He agreed so easily! Would you believe he’d taken a lot of lead roles in plays when he was a student?”

“And that was fifteen something years ago.”

“He’s also good at things like emphasizing lines and handling a woman!”

“Anyone can- What?!”

“Stop being a sourpuss Shinichi, especially when you’re the first to decline.”

He looks at her quizzically. “I did?”

“You don’t even remember?” Amidst the faint pink on her cheeks, disappointment etched on the way Ran’s lips curve to a small pout. “You were the first Sonoko asked... You were so quick to turn her down, she said.”

Astounded by the revelations docking in his brain all at once, Shinichi struggles to recall the conversations he had exchanged with Sonoko the past weeks. None stands out. If she had included Ran’s name in there, he would remember instantly. But Sonoko didn’t. Suddenly, the floodgates in his mind open.

If he finds out later on about the plot and the cast, he’ll definitely find a reason or two to sulk, if not object. Whether Ran is partnered with someone else or Araide-sensei doesn’t matter, for as long as it isn’t him. Him who she’s positive would outright reject her offer to act as a prince because why would he? In any case, god knows Sonoko omitted Ran’s name on purpose for this.

The sly woman has stirred something up, and she will proudly take the front row seat on his reaction she was so sure he’d make.

Not saying Sonoko’s predictions are right. This is just how she thinks. And he won’t react the way she expects he will. She is not right.

Not. Right.

Sonoko, yaro...

“Stand up, let’s do this.”

“Huh?”

“You want immersive? I’ll give you immersive.”

Left with little time to process as Shinichi pulls her by the hand, Ran drops her script on the floor. The sudden shift in character is unbelievable. How can someone so sleep-deprived turn into someone this enthused in a span of a breath?

“But first, let me…” He leaves the room, and Ran picks up her script, still quite lost. Whatever she said earlier must have triggered something, and she’s torn if she’ll ask once he returns but considers the possibility that he may break character. Not gonna risk that. He said he’ll give her an immersive practice, and it’s oddly unexpected, but she’ll take it. This is good. After all, she needs him as the knight.

Wants him as the knight.

“Sheesh, Ran, stop…” Shying away from her own maidenly thoughts, Ran flips to the designated page, scene, and line, rehearsing as she waits.

Some minutes later, Shinichi reappears, holding his script and something else. Of all things she would expect him to own, a blue fancy Columbina mask adorned with elegant silver and royal patterns wasn’t one of them.

“Mom has these things, okay,” he explains, putting it on. Ran isn’t sure if she wants to laugh or tease, but she does neither when she gets a glimpse of him with half of his face covered, and she catches her breath at the sight.

Standing against silk red curtains and brilliant glow of afternoon sunlight, he really does seem like a mysterious knight…

“Don’t laugh, idiot. After doing this for you. Wear this,” he says, and Ran zeroes in on the line of his lips because she has nowhere else to look at as he places a small barrette tiara on her hair. Doesn’t matter what he says, what they wear, even if they fail to match the daintiness of the mask and tiara. Shinichi with this on makes Shinichi as the knight much more vivid now. And Ran as the princess...

“Sorry!” She claps a hand on her warming cheek, pulls back a dumb smile she doesn’t notice she is wearing. “And I— I wasn’t laughing!”

“Still smiling creepily though.”

“I wasn’t being creepy! Geez. Anyway! Page-”

“Page 27, Scene 8, Line 10. Got it.”

After some short blocking instructions, they drop their scripts on the couch, and begin.

“Oh, unnamed knight with the black cloak, if you will grant me my wish… Please take off that dark mask and show me your true face!”

“If that is what the princess wishes, I shall show you my sorrowful face under this moonlight.”

Two steps forward and he removes the mask, and time slows down. She’s seen the same face a million times yet this time, her heart leaps like she’s laid eyes upon the most handsome face in the universe.

“Might—Might you be Spade?” She carries on, taking everything she can to maintain composure. “Long ago, you were banned from this land by my father… but now you’ve become the prince of Trump Kingdom...”

It’s nerve wracking, the way he’s strikingly still, eyes laden on her, either waiting for her next lines or admiring how beautiful she is with the tiara, she isn’t quite sure. The mask is gone, but he isn’t breaking character. Meanwhile, she’s trying her darned best to stay as Princess Heart of Bridge Kingdom.

“If you have… not forgotten about our childhood promise, then please…”

A nervous lump forms in her throat as she wraps her arms around his shoulders, and his hands find her waist, and she nearly gasps but holds it in because right now, she’s Princess Heart, not Mouri Ran asking this of Kudou Shinichi. “Please, show me on these lips.”

“As my princess so desires...”

It should be ‘the’, not ‘my.’ And there’s supposed to be another line after that, but nothing stops him as he leans in ahead of time and her eyelids flutter to the erratic beat of her heart. It’s better to be partnered with Araide-sensei in this after all. He will not mess up his lines, and she will not lose her mind the way she’s losing it now.

Two parted lips are a pucker away when the doorbell chimes, making both jolt.

Ran is first to snap out of character, as if she hasn’t had the urge to earlier.

“That—That must be Sonoko. I forgot to tell you... ��I invited her in.”

“Oh, great,” Shinichi says.

Forcing her limbs into working order, Ran disentangles slowly, drawing a distance. Shinichi glances at the mask in his hand, then at her, before tossing it to the couch and turning for the door. From the window, she watches him walk to the front gate, scratching the back of his head in an annoyed manner like she just woke him from sleep, but grumpier. She hasn’t seen him display much emotion on a Sunday noon the way she’s seeing him now.

Maybe I shouldn’t have bothered him, she sighs, her turn to slump onto the couch this time.

“As I was saying, the prod already scouted the finest material for the costumes, and I decided, pink suits Princess Heart— Hello? Are you listening?”

Ran nearly drops the knife she holds if not for her inhuman reflexes. “Of course! Princess Heart in pink! Yes.” Like nothing happened, she resumes slathering jam and butter on the toast she’s preparing for the three of them. She doesn’t need to look at her side to know Sonoko’s eyeing her from head to toe.

“What happened to her?” The woman turns to Shinichi who sits at the high stool by the kitchen island.

“Dunno,” he says, sounding as noncommittal as he probably appears. Her back is turned against him, but she can see his face, and god why is she blushing?

“I just helped her rehearse. For the play,” he adds.

“Oh?” Sonoko’s brow perks up her forehead, hair whipping as she turns between her and the boy across them. “Did you?”

“Yup. Page 27.”

The dramatic gasp that tears from their friend’s throat is exactly the kind of gasp they expected; even so, Ran still flinches as Shinichi’s stool rakes the floor. “You kissed and I didn’t see?!”

“Hah?!”

“No!”

The two yelp in unison.

“That’s sly! You have to do it again! I’ll judge.”

“Excuse you! It didn’t happen, what you’re thinking!”

“Sonokooo!”

“Oh, shush, Ran, this is good practice. Good practice.”

“But—”

“Relax, rehearsal is rehearsal! In the actual play, once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job—”

“I’m going to the toilet,” Shinichi gets off the stool, jaw stiff, out of the kitchen.

“—with a hug than a kiss. Right?” Sonoko ends, once Shinichi is out of the room.

“What?” Ran’s expression is inscrutable as she faces Sonoko completely, the flush across her face befitting embarrassment or ire. “You’re losing me here!”

“Oh, you’re not going to kiss, Ran. The lights will dim before your lips touch.”

“Then why—” she puts down the bread and walks in haste to the island to flip through the script, “Wh— That’s not in here!”

“Sonoko-sama hereby deems the script revised now that we have Araide-sensei.”

“Eh...?!” Ran cannot explain the play of her reactions. On one hand, a cloud is cleared from her mind, having to worry no more about doing something she has no experience with in front of watchful eyes. On the other, bunch of half-formed thoughts whirl through her mind that goes, Shinichi and I almost kissed for nothing, for nothing we almost k-kissed, an almost kiss with Shinichi, almost—

“That won’t do! I mean— That’s so not you! T-To choose a hug over a...”

“Duh, Ran! Even if it’s just a play, I won’t enable a kiss scene between a student and a staff member. We can fake the kiss. That, or switch to hug. Or better yet, change the male lead.”

“Change the male lead? In two weeks? Who will agree?!”

“Easy.” Just in time, Shinichi returns, hands in pocket and long face worn all the way to the stool. “I know someone who will.”

‘Once it’s Araide-sensei, he’ll do a better job…’ What? Kissing Ran? Shinichi wants to puke. Sonoko needs to think things through. If this is part of her plan, it’s unacceptable, it sucks.

There’s no way, no way anyone can do a better job kissing Ran than…

“Aaaargh, what are you thinking!” He ruffles his hair in dismay, curses here and there. He only wanted to help Ran yet he almost went for it. Not as Spade but as himself. The audacity. It’s part of the script, sure, but—

If it is part of the script, then have Ran and Araide-sensei rehearsed it before?

“That’s it,” Shinichi huffs, storming out of the bathroom. If this is the kind of reaction Sonoko wants from him, she’s in for a show. Not just a show but a lifetime of curses and mental stabs. For her to go this far is unbelievable. Did Ran even agree to that? Will such a scene really happen in the play? No matter how despicable Sonoko’s methods are, he has faith she respects Ran’s preference as the female lead. No offense against Araide-sensei, but he cannot take Ran’s first kiss, whether as Spade or not.

That is not to say he knows Ran’s preference, especially when it comes to a first kiss, but… it’s not... Araide-sensei... is it?!

He cannot ascertain, not when Ran did nothing when they were about to kiss…

Okay, halt there, self. I said immersive. That’s immersive. She was acting.

All was but an act. She’s a great actress. I suck. No need to make this a big deal.

Shinichi is a pitiful mess once he’s back in the kitchen.

“My offer still stands, you know.” Sonoko sits beside him, munching a toast, while Ran is busy returning the jam in the cupboard, back against them.

“Your offer?”

Shinichi glances at Ran, then at Sonoko, with that feral grin on her lips and Shinichi does a bad job looking pissed, and it’s maddening because he is pissed, just not obvious with the blush forming across his cheek.

Reprimanding Sonoko is what he intends to do. For doing him dirty, him and Ran dirty, for dragging a staff to be the male lead, for imploring Ran to give her first kiss she’s probably saving in a different setting. All invalid reasons, when he cared less about the play before. He’s a full-time idiot, and Sonoko knows it clearly that’s why she’s offering the role again. He doesn’t want to fall into her trap, the same way he doesn’t want anyone else to be Spade when Princess Heart is Ran.

But Ran looks over her shoulder and they accidentally lock eyes, and pink blooms across her cheeks before she turns around, and suddenly the words that leave his mouth completely betray the thought process he underwent in the bathroom.

“If Ran agrees, yeah,” he says.

#shinranweek2021 #day 6 #late entry #shinran #kudou shinichi #mouri ran #fanfic #oh my god this is all over the place AHAHA #i dont want to leave this in my draft forever tho so here ya go!!

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jincherie · 4 years

Text

sunshine riptide | ot7

— COMMISSION —

⊙ — pairing: ot7 x reader ⊙ — genre: hybrid au, fluff, comfort, found family, ac inspired ⊙ — wc: 13.8k+ ⊙ — warnings: oc has an almost/light anxiety attack towards the end. there is no explicitly mentioned trigger and it isn’t dwelled on for long, but better to let u guys know! ⊙ — notes: here it is! it’s soft, and warm, and I hope that it can be something to cheer up a little bit those who aren’t having such a good day. i love u all, and I hope you like this piece :) to the commissioner, thank you for allowing me to write this and I truly hope it helps you feel even just a little bit better! <3

Moving to this island whose inhabitants are mostly hybrids was a bit of an impulse decision, something you did with empty pockets barely a cent to your name. Thanks to the kindness of the island’s ‘mayor’ you have a place to stay, the last spare room in a sharehouse with seven hybrids, and for three months he will pay your rent in exchange for you to work in his shop until you are back on your feet. It’s a sweet deal, but when you begin to get along better than expected with your housemates and the deadline for your departure looms ever closer, you’re not sure you’re going to be able to make yourself leave when the time comes.

— posted; 06.09.2020 | masterlist

“So in exchange for three months paid stay on the island while you get back on your feet, you will work part-time at the Rabbits Den three days a week, and man the desk in the Resident Services Building on Sundays. Is that okay to you?”

You nod eagerly, the ordeal seeming too good to be true and something you’re afraid will be retracted if you don’t act with haste. Mr Bang returns your motion with a little less fervour, the same kind look never leaving his face.

“Perfect, it’s settled then! We’re glad to have you with us, y/n.”

Something lifts from your chest in that moment, as though you’d been walking beneath the cover of a lead blanket and it has finally slipped from your shoulders. You feel a little breathless, and you know the grin that slips onto your face is stupidly wide. Embarrassingly, you feel salty pricks at the corner of your eyes.

“Thank you so much,” you say, and you mean it. It hadn’t exactly been a well thought out plan, moving here with nothing to your name but your most basic possessions, but you’d just needed to escape and start anew and this… this had been the first opportunity you’d seen. The best opportunity you’d seen. “Really, thank you.”

“You’re more than welcome, young lady.” Mr Bang’s expression grows even softer, if possible. “This is a place people come to find refuge, and happiness. You’re welcome here.”

You clear your throat, turning your head to the side and pretending that you need to cough so he doesn’t see the tear that slips out. You have a feeling he knows, though, as you turn back and find him smiling at you, floppy rabbit ears framing his round face. He reaches out, patting you on the shoulder.

“Now, lets find you a room for the night. I’ll send word to the house I have in mind and make sure they have it nice and tidy before your arrival tomorrow. Sound good?”

It hits you only now how tired you are, more emotionally exhausted than anything, and nod while allowing him to lead you down the hall. That does sound good, actually. That sounds amazing.

O – O – O

You’d arrived on this island in the early hours of the morning yesterday, the late-night ferry the only one that runs to this island on the outskirts of the archipelago. It’s likely due to the fact that the captain is a nocturnal hybrid, and hence prefers to run his business under the cover of night. You hadn’t been able to sleep on the trip over, so when Mr Bang had shown you to the room he was happy to lend you for the night, despite it being barely ten o’clock in the morning you’d passed out the second your head hit the pillow. It was more of a nap than anything, but you suspect that the events of the past few months all caught up to you at once because you woke only for dinner and then fell asleep once more. Mr Bang offered no judgement, and simply left a note instructing you where the bathroom is and where you could find towels so that you could freshen up once you awoke. He also left you a coffee bun in a container, since you’d missed the afternoon tea he held the day before.

You hadn’t even been on this island a day and already the kindness of one of the residents was almost bringing you to tears.

Due to the fact that you’d slept far too early, you end up waking up at an ungodly hour the next day, the day you are meant to be moving in to the sharehouse that Mr Bang told you about. Laying in the bed, nestled in the warmth of the covers and watching as the suns rays slowly begin to stain the ceiling and the curtains in rich marigold, you do your best to get yourself together. You can breathe easy now, any anxiety you’d felt previous now nothing more than an echo in your chest. You feel refreshed, and not just from the ridiculous amount of sleep you’ve had in the past twenty-four hours. There are of course some nerves pertaining to meeting your new housemates, but it’s manageable. You have faith that everything will turn out well. It’s a good feeling.

Mr Bang is kind enough to offer you breakfast, and likely would have pushed you to stay for lunch had you not shown up down the stairs with your baggage already in tow. So begrudgingly, he allows you to head on your way, informing you that your new housemates knew of your arrival and had endeavoured to tidy up as much as possible. You thought it was a little funny he was telling you that—just how messy is the house usually?—but he simply shook his head with a smile that told you the answer would come soon enough.

The island isn’t big, but it most definitely isn’t small. The sun is warm and the air cool with a tinge of salt and sea trailing along the breeze, and the path you walk along that skirts the beach is peppered with sand and the odd shell. It makes you happier than anticipated, because just being out here makes you feel so free. Mr Bang told you that the house where you will be staying is on the other side of the island, past the little cluster of shops and small businesses and perched at the edge of the sand, backing onto a river that flows into the ocean and skirted on one side by a small cliff.

“It’s their own little alcove,” Mr Bang had snorted, a mixture of fondness and amusement evident on his features. “They get up to more trouble than I can keep track of over there, but they’re good boys.”

Ah, that’s right. You’d almost forgotten; your new housemates are a bunch of boys. You hope that Mr Bang is right about their character and you won’t be living in discomfort for the next three months.

The path wound and curved a bit, following the edge of the island, and before long you were walking through a section of light forestry. You suspected the house would be on the other side, and were in the midst of thinking just what it would look like when a small squeak! catches your attention and you halt, almost dropping your bag.

It’s silent, save for the way the breeze caresses the leaves around you. You peer around, eyes unable to spot anything in the foliage. Did you imagine it? It’s a little early in your stay to be going crazy. Hesitantly, you adjust your grip on your bag and resume your trek.

Squeak! S-squeeeak!

No, you definitely heard that. You freeze, having gotten a better sense of where the sound is coming from now and turning towards a large tree smothered in vines of varying thickness and clinginess. For a moment, you don’t see anything, eyes squinting hard—it’s like one of those I spy books you used to rave about as a kid— and just when you think you might be looking in the wrong place, you catch movement.

There, in a cluster of the vines dangling from one of the tree’s thicker limbs, is a tiny creature, all tangled up and squeaking in distress.

“Oh my goodness,” you drop your bag, immediately moving closer. “Poor thing—hold on just a second, bub. I’ll get you out. Promise not to bite me?”

The creature offers a squeak and logically you know it isn’t answering your request, but you pretend it is anyway. Carefully stepping over plants and twigs, thanking past you for wearing more practical boots, you reach where the creature is stuck, dangling just below eye level.

The vines it has managed to get all tangled up in aren’t particularly thick, but there are a lot of them, and it has managed to get a few of its limbs stuck in place. Carefully, you snap a few of the more central ones and ease the tiny thing out, getting a better view of it the more you pull from its body. It’s squeaking all the while, though with much less distress and more of an energy that simply feels chatty. It makes you smile.

“There you go,” you murmur, cradling the tiny baby in your palms and cooing, trying to calm the heartbeat and hurried breaths you can feel racing against your skin. You stroke along its back as lightly as you can manage. “Oh, you’re a little sugar glider! You’re so pretty, such a cutie. Look at your markings, wow… so pretty.”

Almost as though it can understand your praise and is basking in it, it flicks its bushy tail and rolls in your palm, like a cat rubbing against something with its cheek except this little glider is doing it with its whole body. It’s awfully friendly, you note. Perhaps much of the wildlife here is more peacefully accustomed to human and hybrid activity.

“Okay, you’re free now. I’ll stop ogling at you and let you go,” you say, holding your hands up to a part of the tree that isn’t covered in vines lest there be a repeat of the earlier situation. The sugar glider merely blinks, eyes still on you, and doesn’t move. Brows drawn in confusion, you move your hands closer to the tree, “Well, aren’t you going to—oh!”

Faster than you can react, the little thing darts from your hands, leaping to your bicep and scurrying up with tiny claws in your shirt to your shoulder. Once at its apparent destination, it rushes to the crook of your neck and makes itself at home, nestling against you and securing itself with its tail partway around the back of your neck and its little paws clutching your shirt edge. You giggle, still in shock and trying not to jostle it off as you fight the ticklish sensation.

“Okay. I guess you can come with me. I’m not sure if you can stay the whole while, but I’m sure it will be okay while I walk.”

So off you go, bending and retrieving your bag carefully so you don’t dislodge your tiny new companion. You’ve seen a bit of sugar gliders, but the way this one is acting is quite peculiar. If it sticks around until you arrive at the house, you’d love to snap a quick picture because it really is so pretty, so cute.

The trip is faster than anticipated, now there is something else to occupy your thoughts. Before you know it you’re out of the forestry and approaching a large, modern three storey building that is probably just a few yards short of a mansion, nestled between the ocean, the river, and a short cliff-face just barely higher than the roof. This is the place for sure.

The little glider seems to perk up, the closer you get, something that surprises you since it was so quiet you thought it was asleep. With a soft noise, it grabs onto your hair with tiny paws and scurries to the top of your head, likely making a mess of it in the process but it’s so cute you can’t bring yourself to mind. At least it will be an interesting first impression.

As you approach the front door, you think you see movement in one of the windows on the ground floor. You almost dismiss it as you reach the eve, until you catch the hurried patter of feet against hardwood from beyond the door.

You barely manage to blink before the door is flying open, a man with raven curls and two fluffy russet ears peeking between the locks presenting you with the biggest grin you have ever seen on anyone’s face. It’s boyish and cute, a direct contrast to the mature, sculpted features of his face.

“Hello!” he says, and you catch sight of a long, fluffy russet tail whipping behind him and betraying his excitement—not that he was doing much to hide it. “You must be the new roomie! It’s nice to meet you! We’ve been waiting all morning, and one of us actually went to pick you up but… I’m not sure where he is.”

You’re a little overwhelmed but easily recover when he simply keeps looking at you so happily, returning the man’s bright smile. There’s rustling in your hair at the back of your head but you ignore it, adjusting your grasp on your bag. “Ah, thank you. I’m y/n, it’s nice to meet you…?”

The man pulls back, a sheepish look on his face that accompanies a light flush in his cheeks. “Oh, right. I’m Taehyung. Sorry. My hyungs tell me I tend to get a bit ahead of myself sometimes.”

You keep the smile on your face. “That’s okay, we got there in the end. It’s nice to meet you, Taehyung.”

Taehyung brightens, tail curling happily behind him. He opens his mouth to say something, but is interrupted from a voice to the side.

“Are you going to make our poor new housemate wait outside all day, Tae?”

The light blush colouring Taehyung’s cheeks deepens, a sheepish laugh escaping. “No. I was just about to invite her in!”

He steps back and reveals the person behind him who had spoken, a tall man with dimples and silvery hair that did little to conceal the large, rounded grey ears atop his head. He seems a little awkward in his stance, like he has more body than he knows what to do with, but still extends an arm in greeting with a kind smile. “y/n, is it? Welcome, please come in. I hope you’ll enjoy your stay here with us, however brief. We’re happy to have you.”

Don’t cry, don’t cry! If you cry now you can never show your face here again. You clear your throat, returning his smile as you step inside and out of the sun, the difference in temperature against your skin immediate. “Thank you, I really appreciate your generosity in letting me stay here.”

“Nonsense,” Taehyung snorts, “Namjoon-hyung has been saying for months we should find someone to fill the spare room, and now you show up on our doorstep! It’s perfect.”

The taller, who Taehyung had referenced as Namjoon, seems a little bashful, his cheeks heating. Does everyone in this house blush so easily? You hope it’s not contagious.

There is movement in your hair again, the glider apparently needing to breathe, and you have your mouth open ready to explain when Namjoon beats you to it.

“Oh, I see you’ve met Jimin already!”

What?

The glider leaps from your head and onto Taehyung’s outstretched arm, climbing to his head before leaping from that too and gliding through the air, all the way around the corner. There is a small clutter, the sound of a light swearword entering the air, and then the ever-familiar patter of feet against hardwood. Another boy rounds the corner, ashy-blond hair tousled and parted by two small grey ears, bushy tail curling behind him.

He skids to a stop in front of you, dipping in a brief bow before rising and shooting you a bright smile. “Hello! Thank you for helping me! I’m Jimin, welcome home!”

It takes all of your willpower to keep the happy tears at bay as you tilt your head back and laugh, already feeling lighter than you ever remember feeling before.

O – O – O

Your next introductions to the hybrids you will be sharing your home with for the next three months go much smoother and without as many surprises as the last ones. Jimin, who seems to have warmed up to you quickly, was more than happy to take you on a tour of the house and to go through introductions while he was at it. He happily told you who was what hybrid as well, without you asking. You figured that he realised your underperforming human nose wouldn’t be able to tell, so he took the initiative and you’re thankful for it, because you were curious.

The oldest resident of the house is Seokjin, a red-panda hybrid who goes on a spree of stress-baking every time exam season rolls around. Most of the hybrids study online, as you learnt from Jimin’s excited chattering. The second you met Jin, as he preferred to be called, you were stunned at how handsome he was. Of course, any awe that rooted you to the spot quickly dissipated as he said a joke so painfully funny it left you with whiplash between the urge to roll your eyes and guffaw. You like him, though. He’s nice.

You quickly discover that all the inhabitants of this house are, though. Yoongi is the second oldest and a squirrel glider hybrid—something Jimin said he found funny since he was closest to Jimin, a sugar glider, and Hoseok, the third oldest and a sunny squirrel hybrid. He giggled as he told you, and you couldn’t hide your own smile even as Yoongi’s ear had flicked and he’d shot the two of you a suspicious look. The little fun fact Jimin had told you about Yoongi had taken you by surprise; he remotely operates the island’s radio, many of the tunes ones he has created himself. Often, if there is a festival, he will volunteer his time to work the music jobs there, too. Apparently Namjoon also pitches in, and Hoseok when he has free time outside of the classes he teaches on the other side of the island.

Hoseok is a dancer, Jimin had gushed, and while he teaches at the school part time, he also volunteers time outside of that to hold dance classes for the kids. Jimin told you that he joins occasionally, but less often lately since his workload for university has increased. He did tell you, though, that the youngest of the house had all but taken his place, his youthful heart at home mucking around with kids and helping them learn.

Jungkook is his name, and Jimin informed you with a very fond and very amused look that he is rather shy, so you might not see him for a few days. Apparently it had been uttered just loud enough for the hybrid in question to catch it though, because there was a tumbling sound from the floor above and a series of stomping footsteps. A head of long, wavy inky hair had popped over the railing, grey ears pinned back as a baby-faced boy delivered a glare to the blonde to your side.

“Hyung! That’s not true! I’m not too shy to even introduce myself!” he had defended himself avidly, red-faced and huffy. When his eyes turned to you, mouth open to follow through on his words, he abruptly shrank and all that escaped was a squeak. It took him a moment to conjure speech once more, and this time he was noticeably less bold. “I’m—I’m Jungkook! It’s nice to meet you! I have to go now! Goodbye!”

And then he was gone, and so concluded your final introduction to the residents you had yet to meet. You thought you had a good feeling when you first arrived, but now that you’ve met everyone and everything feels that bit more real, you find yourself thinking…

It’s a really good feeling.

O – O – O

“It’s not what it looks like!”

You raise a brow, book in hand as you stand at the edge of the sand bank where green bleeds into gold. Against your heels is cool grass, and your toes are dipped in the gentle warmth of the sand. Namjoon sits in front of you, beneath a tree protruding from the dune, with a bundle of leaves in his hand and a guilty look in his face.

“Isn’t eucalyptus toxic to humans and hybrids?”

“I’m not eating it!” Namjoon waves his hands in a frantic bid to assure you, eyes wide, and almost drops the leaves in question. His large, grey ears flick in his distress. “I was just… I know I can’t eat it but it smells so good… I was just sniffing it. It calms me.”

You let out a light laugh, walking closer and plopping down on the sand beside him, beneath the generous shade the tree offers. The sea breeze is kind and cools your skin where it smarts from the sun, tickling your neck and manipulating your hair into a tumbleweed. Namjoon snorts, helping you get it back in order.

“No judgement,” you say, crossing your legs and placing your book in your lap for the meantime. “Just wanted to make sure I wouldn’t have to take you to a hospital, because I do not know where to find one on this island.”

Namjoon grins, rosy cheeks complimenting his skin the way it glows gold in the sun’s glare. “You’d drag little ol’ me all the way to the hospital if you knew where it was?”

“Well, yeah,” you laugh, sifting sand through your fingers as you relish the sound of waves crashing barely a yard away. It’s so peaceful, you feel so at peace. “Since none of you seem to know what a car is.”

“We had a car,” Namjoon admits, face flushing violently as he averts his gaze, turning his head. “There was just, um, an unfortunate incident… that may have involved a tree, or two…”

You decide not to probe further, lest your current good impression of Namjoon come under threat. A beat of silence passes, before Namjoon shuffles, placing the bundle of leaves back on the grass. He angles his body a little more towards you, sniffing subtly.

“So… how is your stay so far? Is everything going okay?”

You can’t hide the expression of surprise that makes its way to your face as you turn to him, blinking. You don’t know what you were expecting, but for some reason it hadn’t been that. It’s awfully nice of him.

You’ve been on the island almost a week now. The interactions you’ve had with your housemates so far, though not too bountiful, have all been pleasant, and you genuinely have nothing to complain about. You haven’t seen much of Jungkook, Hoseok, or Yoongi—but that mostly comes down to incompatible work hours and commitments. Mr Bang’s nephews run the Rabbit’s Den, the local convenience store that occasionally hosts a few exotic goods, and they have been nothing short of helpful, polite, and friendly while you worked there. You have worked a single shift at the Resident Services Building too, and it was pretty chill. A few residents came in, happily introduced themselves to you, and then you helped them with whatever had warranted their visit. All in all, your stay has been amazing so far.

“It’s been good,” you say, and it feels so nice to have the words escaping your mouth be true to the warmth in your chest. “Everyone here is super nice. It does feel a bit odd though, sometimes I feel like I’m the only human here.”

“Oh, yeah. You are,” Namjoon huffs an amused laugh. “You’re the first human Mr Bang has allowed on this island.”

Your surprise is evident, and it makes him smile when he turns his head to give you a sly look. “He must have had a good feeling about you. Rabbit hybrids tend to rely a lot on their gut feelings and intuition.”

“Oh,” you say, cheeks warming. Well, you’re glad he had decided to let you in. You say as much to Namjoon, and he smiles brightly at you.

“We’re glad he decided to let you in, too.”

You’re not sure what to say to that, a little embarrassed from the unexpectedness of it—was he really telling the truth? You’d hardly spent any time with some of your other housemates…

A calm silence begins to settle between you, and you take the time to open your book and resume where you left off. You get so carried away reading that when you finally look up some time later, the sight to your side almost makes you gasp.

Namjoon had, at some point, fallen asleep in a little patch of sunlight that manage to pierce through the foliage—in the place of the large, long-limbed man you had been talking to is now a considerably smaller fluffy koala, sitting upright and snoozing lightly. You suspect this isn’t the most ideal position for him to be sleeping in, though, because every few moments he will sway on the spot, almost tipping but not quite going far enough to have an abrupt meeting with the sand.

You coo, unable to help it, but the sound quickly grows alarmed when he leans too far—before you can think your arms shoot out to hold him up, but it seems there is something true to what is said about koalas being clingy because the second he feels something touch him, koala Namjoon clings.

You squeak, a fully-grown koala now wrapped around your forearm. Slowly, you bring it closer to you (feeling your bicep burn all the while because damn is he heavier than he looks!), planning to use your other hand to ease him off, but it seems that the second you’re close enough he can sense your warmth and he wants in. You sit, exasperated and amused, with a koala now latched to your midriff, arm forgotten. Both your hands are now free, but at what cost?

You figure that he’ll probably let go when he wakes up, or he might fall back into the sand in his sleep, but until then you resign yourself to unexpected but definitely not unwelcome koala cuddles. You just hope he won’t be too embarrassed when he wakes up; you can already see him stuttering and going red in your mind’s eye. It brings a chuckle to your lips, and with a smile on your face you return to your book once more, a little more content than before.

O – O – O

It’s been a while since you’ve had to deal with the dreams.

Usually, once they start you can wake yourself up, or you can manage to turn them around if they’re one you’ve had before. But some nights, when the dreams come, you’re helpless but to see them play out. Sometimes they’re not that bad, but even the milder ones leave you with a nauseous ball of anxiety beneath your lungs and a feeling of discomfort that digs claws deep in your bones.

About three weeks into your stay, you wake up after one such dream, a cursory glance to your phone and the painful glare of its screen revealing it to be the early hours of the morning. For a moment you simply lay, blinking, with your gaze rooted on the ceiling. You had strung up some fairy lights around your dresser, and on the plaster above you the soft colourful rainbow of their hue meshes and blends with the cool pools of moonlight slipping through your curtains.

Absently, and with a sense of resignation that you feel in your bones, you strip the cover back and climb out of bed, deciding you may as well grab some water since you’re likely not going to be able to fall asleep very easily anytime soon.

As you make your way through the levels to the ground floor where the kitchen resides, you’re careful to be as quiet as possible—you’re not sure how successful your effort is but you do know that quite a few of your housemates have been inundated with coursework lately and you don’t want to disturb any of the valuable rest they need so badly. Jimin had looked so wiped out yesterday that you’d literally had to pull him away from the dishes and send him to bed. He complained on the way, but as soon as his head hit his pillow he was out, leaving you in a mixture of awe and concern. He explained as soon as he woke the next morning that he had been up all night completing an assignment, and it made you realise just how exhausted a lot of your roommates seem lately. You hope this period passes soon for them; you may not have been here long but you have grown to care for them and you don’t like seeing them so unwell.

You’re just pondering this when you reach the ground floor and venture into the kitchen, thoughts and feet coming to an abrupt stop as you take in the sight that greets you there.

Seokjin is standing by the bench, hands moving slowly as he puts something together just out of your view. A quick survey of the rest of the countertop tells you that he’s making lunches, and while ordinarily this would touch your heart (as it does every time you see how each of the hybrids in this house cares for each other), this time you’re overcome with a strong wave of concern.

Delicately put, Seokjin looks dead on his feet.

Every few moments his head bobs down, chin almost hitting his chest before he jerks awake just long enough to lift his head, before the cycle repeats once more. He looks so exhausted you’re impressed he managed to make as many lunches as he did. Though, from the looks of it he’s only about halfway through.

“Hey, Seokjin… are you okay?”

The hybrid jumps, the startle you gave him probably rendering him more awake than he has been in a few hours.

“Wh—what are you doing awake?” he sputters, having to lean against the bench so that he doesn’t fall over. “It’s almost midnight!”

You can’t help the look you give him, a mixture between amusement and concern. “Um… it’s a little past midnight actually… probably closer to two… are you alright?”

Seokjin blinks at you for a second while your words sink in, before he sags with a light groan, bringing a hand up to scrub at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, voice thick with sleepiness. His bushy, striped tail sways behind him before curling around his thigh. “I’m just… kind of wiped out. I was up finishing a part of a really big assessment piece and it took longer than I thought… I was going to go to bed but then I remembered that I hadn’t prepared the boys’ lunches, and I always do that, so I came down here and…”

He makes a great, sweeping gesture over the mess on the bench, a result of his patchy attention. A huff of laughter escapes him. “Yeah.”

“I’m glad you finished your piece, but… do you really have to make their lunches? I think you should probably get some sleep…”

You were a little worried he might take your words the wrong way, but you can tell from the serene expression on his face that he doesn’t. “I always do it. If I don’t, then they might worry about me, and I don’t want them to worry about me when they should spend that energy worrying about themselves. Plus, I don’t know if I’d be able to sleep if I knew they weren’t done.”

You return his amused smile, taking a step closer and willing yourself to speak the idea that had come to mind.

“Well, considering I found you almost sleeping on the spot when I came down, I think you should probably call it a night and get some rest. I’d be happy to finish up and make sure the lunches are done, if you’d like?”

You can see the resistance immediately, the tall man opening his mouth to refuse—but he halts, and for a moment slips into his own thoughts. Sensing that he just needs a little push, you continue, “If you tell me what you usually make, I should be able to finish the rest of them without too much trouble.”

He blinks, and in that moment you see the rest of his exhaustion flood to the surface. He sniffles, unable to fight the yawn that rises. “… Okay. If that’s really alright with you…?”

You laugh, reaching to bump Seokjin’s side. “Of course it is. I don’t mind at all, especially if it means you’ll go to sleep in your bed and not on the kitchen floor. Now, what do you normally make…?”

Letting out a soft laugh, Seokjin does his best to stay awake long enough to instruct you on what he makes and how he makes it for the remaining members of the household. You can’t help but notice throughout his explanation that he doesn’t seem to make lunch for himself despite making it for everyone else, and as he finally plods off to bed and passes out, you make the decision that you’re going to make some lunch for him too. It takes you a brief google search on the diet of red pandas and their hybrid counterparts, as well and recalling what you know of Seokjin’s taste in food, but it doesn’t take you too long to decide on what to make. You work through the lunches one by one, grateful for the distraction, and complete the task fully when Seokjin’s sits primly next to the rest. You pile them all into the fridge, washing your hands again before grabbing the water you originally came down for, and then you’re making the trip back upstairs to your own bed, a soft smile on your face and a warm satisfaction curling around your lungs. You fall asleep easier than expected for a night where you had one of those dreams, but there most definitely aren’t any complaints to be found as you drift off with a faint smile on your lips.

The next day, it’s only a little before midday when Seokjin finally rises from his slumber and makes his way downstairs. Blearily, he reaches the kitchen and heads straight to the fridge, attempting to think through his sleep-addled brain what he should make for lunch. Those thoughts are interrupted as he catches sight of a box he hasn’t seen outside of the little tupperware cupboard by the stove in ages sitting on the middle shelf, a little paper tag with ‘for Seokjin’ scribbled onto it perched on top.

He pulls it out and places it on the bench, staring in confusion. It takes him an embarrassingly long time to kick his limbs into gear and open it, but from that point on the realisation comes quickly with the memory of last night.

You’d gone and made lunch for him, too. And from the looks of it, you’d paid great attention to what to include.

His stomach rumbles violently as he takes in the sight of berries and the bamboo shoots he usually stores in the fridge that you must have taken the time to boil and season. There is a sandwich in there as well but he doesn’t need to check whether he will like it because he can already smell the salmon.

He doesn’t know what to think, or really what to say. He knows he’s just lucky you’ve already gone to work at the Rabbit’s Den because otherwise you would probably be here and risk seeing his eyes tear up a little.

A side effect from being sleepy and stressed is the dramatics, he knows, but still… he can’t help but notice the warm feeling that lingers in his stomach when he thinks of how nice you are to do such a thing.

O—O—O

“You’re gonna love it when we get there, y/n! It’s so pretty, and there’s so much fruit… I’m going to feast.”

You can’t help but let out a laugh, thoroughly enjoying the company of your two housemates and the combination of cool breeze and warm sunlight the air offers as they kiss your skin. It’s earlier in the morning than you tend to wake up, but you’ve been invited out on an exclusive adventure and you aren’t in any position to say no. For the past few weeks you’ve noticed that on a Saturday and Sunday morning, Taehyung tends to disappear. You don’t know where, and each time you saw him again you forgot to ask, but finally the opportunity had arisen for you to sate your curiosity. Happily, the lemur hybrid had informed you that there is a small section of the island towards the north that is absolutely packed with trees, bushes and otherwise, all peppered with ripe fruit. Some days he goes to tend to them, but on the weekends he confessed to you that he normally goes to harvest the literal fruits of his labour.

“Just don’t eat all of the tamarind again, Jiminie, or I will have to kill you myself.”

Jimin lets out a loud laugh, stumbling in his gait for a moment from the force of it. “Yessir! Understood, sir!”

Taehyung’s lips quirk into a smile, and he returns his gaze to the front to continue marching ahead and leading the two of you to his secret spot. You adjust your hold on the woven bag over your shoulder, brushing away some of the more unruly strands of hair that have made their way across your face by riding on the breeze.

“Thanks again for inviting me, Tae,” you say, unable to hide the skip in your step as you plod along after them, smiling brightly. “I’ve been wanting to explore more—it feels wrong that I’ve been here for a month and barely seen everything there is to see.”

Taehyung spins to flash you a beaming grin over his shoulder, ears flicking and tail curling happily. “Of course, it’s no problem! I did wonder if you’d like to come some time, so I’m glad you mentioned it the other day.”

Jimin gasps, the sound somewhere between playful and affronted. “You asked her yourself to come?! I had to beg for weeks! Weeks!”

“I told you, the fruit weren’t done when you first asked!” Taehyung whines, reaching back and pausing in his steps just long enough to whack Jimin on the shoulder. “You just didn’t listen!”

“I’m baby,” Jimin says, whether in affirmation or explanation you’re not sure. It manages to tear a laugh from Taehyung either way, and you’re no different.

You’re not left stewing in anticipation for long; before you know it you’re broaching the place that Taehyung and Jimin speak so highly of. Rounding a corner, you come across a large grove that ends beyond what your eyes can see—some trees curl and wind, others stand straight and proud with their roots covered modestly with smaller shrubbery. Vines cling and string around some trunks, but the one thing all of the flora in front of you has in common is that they’re all ripe with fruit, ready to be picked.

“Oh wow,” you remark, barely aware you’ve even said anything. A deep laugh sounds from beside you and you turn to see Taehyung grinning brightly, tail curling happily behind him and his little ears flicking with glee.

“Pretty, right? Some of these were already growing here when I found it, like the apples, but the rest of it I planted over time. I’m proud of how it’s turned out.”

“You should be!” you exclaim, pointing to the fruit displayed in the very image of temptation before you all. “Dude, they look delicious.”

“They are!” Jimin chimes in, flitting past you and snagging his finger in your sleeve as he goes to drag you along. “Come on, there’s a mulberry tree up the back and it has the juiciest berries. We have to pick them now before all the birds and fruit bats get them.”

Laughing, you allow the sugar glider hybrid to lead you into the grove of greenery, the man ducking and weaving around branches with ease as his feet follow a path well-worn into the dirt and grass. The splotches of sunlight that filter through the foliage are pleasant where they warm your skin, breeze ensuring you don’t get too hot beneath the kiss of a star. In the shadows of the trees, it is actually much cooler than you expected, but you can’t help but feel that the temperature, the air, the sights—everything feels perfect.

The mulberry tree, fondly called Ol’ Bessy as Jimin had eagerly informed you, is a large, looming monster of a tree with a plethora of winding trunks and subordinate thin branches that dangle and sway in the breeze in the image of a weeping willow. When you comment on the sheer size of it, Taehyung simply shrugs and tells you with a smile that it’s been here a long time, before anyone was on the island.

The three of you don't have much desire to waste any more time standing and dawdling, and so you begin your activity for the day, woven bags and baskets prepared and at the ready. You inspect the mulberries that are hanging lowest, spying the occasional green one but becoming easily appeased when you find bunches of ripe ones, plump and fit to burst as they weigh the thinner branches down.

Gathering them is harder than anticipated, because you hadn't accounted for the fact they they're, well, berries. It takes a few attempts and more than a few instances of stained hands before you figure out the best way to pluck them from the tree without bursting them. Taehyung saw the first one you popped and the way it went all up your arm, and hasn't stopped laughing since.

The three of you bounce between fruits and trees, filling your containers with whichever you prefer. After a while though you all seem to have the same idea to congregate at the mulberry tree. Admittedly, you hadn't been able to stop yourself from munching on some of the fruits as you picked them, but as you look at them and see berry stains around their mouths and apple leaves in their hair, you feel a little less guilty about it. Taehyung places his basket down, leaning it securely against the base of the tree trunk, before dusting his hands with a sharp clap and then resting them on his hips.

"Right," he says, eyes alight. "There's just one more tree to visit. I think you're gonna love it."

You tilt your head, wondering just what other kind of fruit he has up his sleeve when already you've picked so many. Surely he's constrained even a little bit by the climate? Or does he have magically green thumbs? Jimin giggles at your confused expression.

"How good are you at climbing trees?"

The question gives you pause. "Uh... decent? I suppose?"

"Great!" Taehyung exclaims, picking his basket back up and closing the lid to help secure it on his back. "Let's go!"

Once more you're lead in between and through the trees and shrubs, following the gleeful lemur hybrid and his grinning companion back to the middle of the grove. Before long you're stumbling to a halt, having reached the location and wondering how on earth you managed to miss this tree before.

It's bigger than Ol' Bessy by a decent margin, but confusion filters through you when you can't seem to spot any fruit hanging from its branches. You turn to Taehyung, about to question him, but he simply grins and darts over to the massive trunk (really, you don't think two of you could hug it from either side and have your fingers touch, it's so big). It's only after he begins scaling it with alarming ease that you take note of the grooves and footholds curled into the trunk, making it a naturally perfect tree for climbing. Jimin darts up after his friend, apparently also well-versed in the art of climbing this tree, and breaks you from your awed reverie with a shout over his shoulder.

"Come on, y/n! Or Tae is gonna take the good spot!"

Unsure what he means and unsure if you're willing to find out via Taehyung following through on that, you scramble to follow after them and do your best to climb.

It's easier than anticipated, actually, and dare you say it... relaxing. Though you're going higher and higher with each branch you clear, and see less of the ground and more of the canopy with each step, you can't say you're all that scared, or worried. If anything, it's as though a moment of peace has been captured in a bubble, and now settles like cool mist on a spring morning at the bottom of your chest.

In sharp contrast to the cool breeze that brushes your face as you emerge from the thickest part of the foliage, the sun is quick to kiss warmth back into your cheeks. For a moment, you have to pause in your climb, because the view around you is simply so beautiful you're at an absolute loss for words.

From here, the highest point in the grove, you can see a vast majority of the island, a sweeping panorama of lush greens and soft sands that blend into the crystalline waters of the ocean, sunlight turning the surface to a sea of diamonds. Along the stretch of beach, in the distance, you can just barely glimpse the sharehouse, and on the other side of the island the little market square where all the stores and restaurants are appears as smudges and blobs of dark colours.

"It's so beautiful, right?"

You're so immersed in your observation that for a second you almost don't even register that someone is talking to you. Mouth open in awe, you simply turn your expression to Taehyung; the lemur laughs, almost tumbling back from the force of it, and you're shocked back into the moment with worry until you see what stopped him from falling.

Here, at the very top of the tallest tree in Taehyung's secret grove, he has built a small little fixture, a deck with enough space for four people to squeeze onto it at most. It hugs the trunk of the tree and is braced on the few thick branches that split from the tree beneath it. A lot of it is untouched, natural wood, but the bottom is made of processed planks and some of the short balcony ledge has been painted with acrylics, little scenes spanning the length of the strips. You didn't know Taehyung painted, but figure you'll bring it up at another time when you aren't precariously clinging to the top of a massive tree.

Taking the hand that both men offer you, you haul yourself carefully up and onto the deck, marvelling as you get an even clearer view of the island from your new position.

"It really is," you answer him, somewhat belatedly. When the two of them settle down, tree swaying much like you imagine a ship would on the vast expanse of the ocean, you follow suit, with your back pressed securely to the trunk.

Jimin is already flinging open his container, smacking it onto the wood in front of him, and Taehyung laughs once more, the sound so freeing and light that it makes that little bubble of peace in your abdomen expand ever so slightly.

"And now, we feast!" The lemur says, eagerly opening his own basket and setting it in front of him, besides Jimin's. They're both set to overflow from the amount of fresh, ripe fruit piled in.

They shamelessly and unabashedly dig in, eliciting a laugh from you as you move your own bag before you to do the same. It's nice, the perfect lunch in more ways than one; the small amount of foliage above you offers just enough shade that you want for nothing more in the moment besides maybe a pillow or two, everything else accounted for in excess.

You're not sure how long you spend there, but you do know that the sun has made a decent amount of headway in its journey across the sky by the time the three of you are done stuffing your stomachs full, laying across the deck and squinting until the clouds swimming leisurely across the sky begin to resemble something you can put a name to. It's fun, and light, and for what is alarmingly far from the first time, you find yourself so thankful for the choices you made and the path that led you here, to be staying on this beautiful island with these lovely boys.

By time you finish and the three of you are heading back, you’ve eaten through half of the fruit and the boys are so full and sleepy from the big day that they’ve shifted into their animal forms and are now clinging to you, Taehyung with his long limbs around your neck and Jimin with his tiny paws clinging to the hair at the top of your head. You suspect he’s made himself another little nest up there, but can’t find it in yourself to be upset with him for it especially when the soft sounds and chitters he makes to communicate with Taehyung are so damn cute.

The trip back is shorter than you recall, and before you know it you’re approaching the sharehouse once more, it’s looming sides graced with the warm gleam of afternoon sun. Jimin and Taehyung are asleep as you reach the front door, and you’re saved from having to move all the bags and baskets in your hold to open the door when it opens for you. Hoseok is standing there, a startled look gracing his features that quickly blends into one of fondness as he sees his friends, something that makes your cheeks warm ever so slightly.

“Good day?” he asks, stepping back to let you in. You nod, unable to help the wide grin touching your lips.

“Yeah, it was.”

O – O – O

‘…They should be setting up a tower soon, so hopefully it won’t be long before I can call you again. But until then, I look forward to every letter you send, bubbles.

Write back soon! I miss you.

Love, Dad’

You sniffle, trying not to let out the tears that are so close to slipping from your eyes. You’re not all that upset, you love receiving letters from your father, but it’s just… a little bittersweet. You’d moved here to escape your family, following a certain incident that you’re not keen to revisit, and your father had always been and will always be supportive of you— but it’s hard, when he’s halfway across the globe on one expedition or another.

It was only in the past ten years that your father managed to snag the job of his dreams and follow the passion he’s harboured since he was a child, graduating from his career as an accountant through attention garnered from numerous big research papers to become a well-respected biologist. From the second he accepted the offer, he’d started down a path that led him spending a majority of his life outside of the home and always on the move, hopping from one destination to another.

Whenever he could, he’d take you with him, but he wasn’t always able to. This expedition, which has landed him in the Antarctic, is an example of that. While he can’t be with you physically, he writes often and calls every chance he gets—and though it saddens you sometimes when it highlights the dismal state of the rest of your family, more than anything you’re happy for him and overjoyed that after years of slaving in an office, he finally gets to do what he wants.

You inhale, closing your eyes and trying to let the breath escape in a long, level manner. It’s night, not when you normally go about reading letters from your father but this letter had come late and you’d almost completely forgotten on your way to bed. Taking the opportunity to get some fresh air, you’d taken the letter and made yourself comfortable on the balcony, using the ample moonlight as a makeshift reading lamp.

Placing the letter carefully on the table, mindful not to place it in anything dirty or unsavoury, you settle back in your chair and tilt your gaze to the skies, allowing your eyes to become unfocused and simply stare. It's a pretty sight, as you expected-- the stars are much more outgoing here, with no haze or pollution masking their display like in the city on the mainland.

You let out a breath, but even to your ears it sounds more like a sigh. You miss your dad, and you know he misses you too but despite the fact you know it's selfish of you, you kind of wish he had been here with you when you made the decision to move. Of course, you've told him all about it, and he's supported you wholly in every choice you've made, but it's not the same. You don't blame him, and you love him dearly, but still... you're allowed to be sad, just a little. Just for tonight.

Well, that had been your plan-- apparently the universe has other ideas that don't include sulking in the moonlight on your balcony. A scuffling sound disturbs your reverie from the side of your balcony, and you look over in time to see a decent blob of shadow scaling up the side of the balcony next to yours and flinging onto the railing. Once there, it halts, and your eyes adjust just in time to meet those of the creature-- the raccoon, you realise quickly. It tilts its head up, sniffling the air once, before pinning you with an unreadable look. For a moment the two of you sit in silence, locked in place by the other's gaze, before the raccoon lets out a soft noise and then it's little claws are clacking against the hollow metal railing, and it disappears beyond the wall.

Whose room is that... Jungkook's? You muse to yourself for a moment before you remember what kind of hybrid Jungkook is, and in the next second there is the sound of a door sliding shut and Jungkook's bright-eyed face pops around the side of the wall.

"Uh... are you okay?"

You blink, brain taking a moment to catch up and then decipher how he could have possibly known you were even a little bit upset. You recall suddenly that animals can pick up cues, like chemoreceptors, and tilt your head at him with a small smile.

"Yeah... no... I'm alright." You angle yourself more towards him in your chair, cheering internally when you see him stop hiding behind the wall and come to lean against the railing. "Was that you? Where were you off to, this time of night?"

Jungkook looks like he wishes to address the first thing you said, but your follow-up has thrown him a bit for a loop. You can't be sure your eyes aren't deceiving you, but you could almost swear he's blushing.

"Oh, yeah... sorry." He reaches a hand up to rub the back of his neck, hair mussed and eyes averted. "I know my animal form isn't that nice... sorry if you thought it was gross."

"What?!"

At the sheer suddenness and volume of your almost-shriek, Jungkook jumps about a foot in the air. His wide eyes swing back to you, chest heaving as he rests his hand in the centre of it. You clear your throat, shrinking a bit in embarrassment.

"Sorry," you wince, before going to elaborate on your earlier squawk. "But please don't ever apologise for something like that! I don't know who told you that your animal form is gross, but they can't be all that bright... it was cute."

He looks more like a deer in headlights than the animal he's spliced with right now, eyes wide and staring right at you. You can't help but laugh and tease him, just a little. "Cutest raccoon I ever did see, anyway."

He suddenly comes back to earth, slamming his face into his hands and letting out a long groan. It's from embarrassment, you can tell from the flashes of reddened skin that peek through his fingers. You don't say anything for a moment, letting him return to the conversation on his own terms. Jungkook might be one of the housemates you've interacted with least, but you've heard plenty from the rest of the hybrids in the house.

More often than not, it's about how shy he is and how cute it is when he gets embarrassed. You'd simply nodded and laughed at the time, but now you realise there truly is merit to everything they said.

It takes a few moments of Jungkook muttering into his hands before he pulls his face away, averting his eyes and mumbling softly, "... Thanks. That's really nice of you to say."

"You're welcome," you shrug, smiling when he risks a glance your way to gauge your reaction. Upon seeing nothing that will make him turn tail and flee back into the safety of his room, he eases up, returning his body to it's previous angle towards you.

"So... why were you upset?"

Surprisingly, his question doesn't bother you as you thought it might. You hum, watching as his gaze follows yours to the table, where the letter and the envelope it came in, addressed to you, lay discarded.

"Letter from my dad," you offer in explanation, watching his eyes light in realisation. "Nothing bad, I just miss him so it's... bittersweet."

Jungkook hums, nodding and resting his chin in his hand as he leans forward. "I understand. It's like that with my parents. I know they love me, and I love them, but they're pretty far away and I just... miss them. They're always working."

You're a little surprised that he can relate, although you suppose you really shouldn't be. You don't know very much about Jungkook at all, so it's not fair of you to assume anything about him, even in relation to your own experiences.

"Yeah," you sigh, looking to the sky for a moment as you try and organise your thoughts. "I'm happy he is where he is, doing what he's doing, but I think it's okay to be sad, just for tonight."

Jungkook hums, but doesn't say anything further. It surprises you when he speaks next, the two of you having fallen into a lull.

"Well, you could keep being sad for the night if you want, or... would you maybe wanna see the film I've been working on?"

Your head whips to face him faster than the speed of light, startling him into another jump on the spot.

"Really?" you ask, hurried as though the offer will be rescinded at any moment. "You mean it? I can see it?"

"Yes...?" Jungkook answers, somewhat bewildered. You launch from your chair immediately, rubbing your hands together-- you've heard really good things from the others about his talents in photography and editing, so you've been trying to figure out a way to slip it into conversation for weeks. You've wanted to see them for yourself so badly.

"I'm coming over," you announce, gathering the letter and envelope and already beginning to move towards your room. "I hope your room is clean, Jungkook, or else I'm gonna tease you!"

You'd just meant it as a joke, but the scrambling and hurried footsteps you hear after you say it make you think he took you seriously.

Well, you dad would probably want you to spend the night happy, anyway. You can save being sad for another night.

O -- O -- O

Your time at the house has gone by much faster than you anticipated, and while initially you'd thought that you wouldn't be able to wait to get out, now you find yourself feeling quite the opposite.

You kind of don't want to leave.

At this point, about two months into your stay, you've settled into such a comfortable, stable routine that you struggle to imagine going through the motions in any other way. Often after your early shifts you'll return to the house and catch someone lounging in the sun, and you will no doubt be roped into a short, sweet afternoon nap. On the weekends is group breakfast, and you make sure that you go to bed as early as possible the nights before so that you don't miss it. Taehyung drags you with him of a weekend to fetch fruit and Jimin drags you around the town in general. Some evenings, you find yourself accompanying Namjoon on a walk along the beach, both of you feeling more at peace than ever before when you're standing with feet buried in the sand, watching dusk bleed into twilight and the colours around you stain violet and periwrinkle in the absence of the sun's kiss.

Jungkook knocks on your door at late hours, grinning and eagerly summoning you to his room to watch his latest creation. Seokjin no longer resists your help every other night to make lunches, and has started including you in the schedule as well.

Yoongi and Hoseok are among the busier residents of the house, but you've still spent bits of time with each of them, probably moreso with Hoseok. It's not that you avoid Yoongi or anything like that, it's just that he happens to be the most busy and more often than not is holed up in his room. You don't always see him throughout the week, but he always attends house breakfast on weekends and you're thankful that you get to see him then.

Today, you're spending a little more time with Hoseok. Your shift ended early and you couldn't have thanked your lucky stars any harder, because today the squirrel hybrid had invited you to his dance class. Usually Jungkook or Jimin went with him, both of them enjoying dance as much as their older housemate, but they had both been unavailable today. You'd seen the way Hoseok's face had fallen when they'd told him, and had immediately asked about the class-- you didn't even talk for more than a few minutes before Hoseok was happily inviting you to attend.

It made you a little more pleased than you're going to admit.

You're on your way there now, actually, a skip in your step and a swing in your gait. You've got the tote bag you hold your work things in, and you can hear the rustling of the nuts you'd shoved in there last minute earlier in the day. You'd noticed that Hoseok had forgotten them, so you'd grabbed them to give to him when you saw him. Hopefully he hasn't stuffed himself too full of other foods in the meantime, though from what you've heard apparently he's such a workaholic that he probably hasn't even had lunch yet despite the fact it's currently three in the afternoon.

A majority of Hoseok's classes take place at the school where he teaches, in a room at the end of the drama block that often doubles as a dance classroom when the school gets the funding for it. When you arrive, the door is slightly ajar and upbeat pop is leaking through the gap, Hoseok's sunny voice piercing through the music like a pendulum.

"--and one, two, three, one, two, three-- that's it! That's fantastic! Really good job, guys!"

A smile is already on your face as you push the door open enough to let yourself in, gaze immediately falling upon a group of grinning children that are looking up at Hoseok like they're a tiny field of sunflowers facing their namesake. Hoseok stands before them in a borderline comical pose that only primary school teachers can really pull off, hands on his hips and a proud, beaming smile on his face. You can’t help but blink because for a moment it really was as blinding as looking directly at the sun. He spots you before you can recover fully, and greets you with a wave.

“Ah, perfect! Everyone, this is Miss y/n! She’s going to be sitting in today—I told her how good you all were and she couldn’t wait to see for herself. Let’s all say hello!”

A chorus of greetings is immediately thrown at you, the attention of the little sunflowers now completely on you. Some gasp and run over, grinning brightly at the novelty of a new character, and others watch from afar but seem pleased nonetheless by your presence and alleged eagerness to see them perform.

Before they can launch into conversation with you like you can so clearly see they want to, the ears of some kids ramrod straight and alert and others’ tails flicking in excitement, Hoseok calls them back to where he stands and to your surprise they obey immediately.

“Alright, let’s let Miss y/n get settled down and we can show her what we’ve been practicing, hm? Sound good?”

There is a chorus of ‘yes!’ that pulls a laugh from you as you make your way to the side of the room with the best view and plop down, cross-legged. Eagerly and very self-consciously, now that they have an audience, the small army of children runs to take their place in the formation, and Hoseok pulls his phone from his pocket to pause the song currently playing and pull up the one that matches their routine.

The opening notes filter into the air and Hoseok nods, foot tapping to the beat, before he counts them in and off they go.

Put simply, you’re so incredibly impressed. These kids can dance! You don’t have a doubt that they can dance better than you, not that you ever claimed to have much talent in that department. By the time they finish running through their little routine, you’re clapping and cheering loudly, relishing in the laughter that you’re exaggerated reaction elicits. Hoseok, too, is smiling as he sees how you interact with his students, wandering over after he takes them through it a few more times before giving them a small break.

"So, what do you think?" he asks as he approaches your side of the room, slightly out of breath from doing the routine with them the last few times. "They're so good, aren't they? They've only been working on this for a few weeks and already they have it almost perfectly down-pat. I'm so proud of them."

He slides down the wall next to you, reaching for the bag he'd dropped there presumably before class began; across the room all the students are reaching into their class backpacks for their afternoon snack, and it seems Hoseok has the same idea. You don't even remember the nuts in your bag until he rifles through his for a few minutes, brows furrowed when he comes up empty. His bushy tail flicks dejectedly, ears twitching back on his head, and he pouts.

"Damn, I think I forgot my lunch this morning," he says, and it's enough to jog your memory. You jump in place from the startle of it.

"Oh, I saw that! Here," you quickly reach into your own bag and pull out the nuts and dried fruits, passing it over to him. "I brought it for you, since I figured you'd probably want it at some point."

The way Hoseok's eyes light up when they see the little plastic bag in your hand is almost enough to make you laugh and/or coo out loud. By the skin of your teeth you barely manage to hold that reaction back, but you do smile as he cheers with a short, happy scream and eagerly takes it from your grip.

"My nuts!" Hoseok wastes no time ripping the bag open and grabbing a handful, setting about munching immediately. "You have saved my life today, Miss y/n. I was soooo hungry."

"Didn't get lunch?" you guess, already knowing the answer and having it confirmed when Hoseok nods, completely unfazed by the fact he'd skipped a meal or two.

"I was helping one of the students," he explains, munching happily. His bushy tails curls in content behind him, a sight that makes something happy and warm settle in your chest. "I don't mind missing lunch if it means they get the help they need. I do feel it afterwards, though. Sometimes when I get home I feel so hungry I could eat the whole cupboard out."

A laugh tears from you at his words, the image even funnier because he didn't specify whether he would be doing it in his human form or his animal form. The image of a squirrel wreaking havoc in the house pantry is funnier than you care to admit, but Hoseok just seems happy to have elicited a laugh no matter the magnitude.

It's just a small thing, spending the afternoon with Hoseok and his students, but you find afterwards that it was almost... healing. On the way home, walking besides Hoseok and discussing which dried fruit were the superior dried fruit (he's wrong, and you'll take that opinion with you to the grave), you can't help but feel so light and happy. Like everything is in place, in motion and flowing smoothly. A river without debris and jagged rocks; life right now feels like that moment in nature when water runs over smooth pebbles in a creek, tumbling and pouring but doing so without chaos, and without mess or fallout. Just one continuous, fluid motion.

It feels nice.

You don't even realise until you're laying in bed that night that for a while now, that's how you've been referring to this place.

As home.

O -- O -- O

Aside from the occasional uncomfortable dream, these past few months have been remarkably incident-free, where it concerns the unfortunate topic of your extended family. You'd changed a lot of things when you'd made the decision to move to this island; your phone number, your email addresses and all your passwords, your social media... all of it had been combed through and either switched out or slimmed down. This place is an escape, a place of refuge for you, and that's how you want it to stay.

Unfortunately, the universe isn't always on your side.

It's a rainy afternoon when you receive the call, and you're so fixated on watching the way the rain falls in thin sheets over the ocean that at first from the first floor patio, that you miss it. They don't call again, but a message sets your phone off a minute or so later, and that catches your attention.

Of course, the second you read it and see who it's from, it does more than just catch your attention.

You're not someone prone to many episodes, and you've become adept at self-soothing. But as your eyes begin to stare unfocused at the message and you feel your chest constrict, diaphragm pushing against your lungs, you realise distantly that this is more than you just being momentarily overwhelmed.

You get a bit lost in the moment, lost in the sensation of light-headedness that suddenly washes over you, so much so that when a voice sounds distantly, muffled as though you're listening to someone speak to you from the depths of a pool, you barely even register it at first.

"Hey, y/n, have you seen--"

Still, your eyes are stuck on the message; you don't even notice the way your fingers had begun to tremble while holding the phone until a hand brushes your arm, a figure in front of you blocking the light from beyond the porch.

"y/n, hey, are you.... look at me. y/n, look at me."

Oh, that's a voice, and you do as it says without even a single thought flitting through your head. Looking up, you're barely even as surprised as you should be to see Yoongi standing there, a look of concern spread across his features, brows drawn together as he regards you. You feel a warm touch against your hand, phone tugged from your grip to be replaced with his own. Both your hands are now in his hold and he uses it to ground you, even if just for a moment.

"Can you do me a favour?" Yoongi says, and his voice is so soft and soothing that you find yourself listening as attentively as you can right now. "I need you to breathe with me. I'm gonna count ten breaths, okay? Let's do the first one-- in..."

He inhales deeply, his whole chest moving from the magnitude of it, and you feel as though you're floating in your own head in the moment as you follow suit. Slowly, patiently, he takes you through each breath one at a time, making sure you inhale as big as he does and exhale as long as he does. By the time you reach ten, the light-headed feeling has faded and the constriction in your chest has eased, ever so slightly. As soon as you finish your tenth breath you sag slightly, letting out a gush of air.

"Sorry," you say, slipping one of your hands from his grip to cover your face. "Sorry, I just--"

To your complete and utter surprise, Yoongi's hand lets your other one go and in the next moment you feel arms slipping around your shoulders, bringing you close to his chest and letting your face rest on his shoulder. You see his fluffy tail from where your face is squished, catching glimpses over his shoulder of the way it curls calmly.

Once the moment of shock passes, you're unable to help yourself but to return the embrace, surprised by how much you needed this without even knowing so.

"It's okay, don't apologise," Yoongi says, voice still soft and calm. You sag against him, and your eyes burn not from the message that triggered your almost anxiety-attack, but from the sheer kindness you feel emanating from this man. "Happens to the best of us. Are you feeling a little better?"

You nod, because oddly enough you are, and he slowly releases his hold on you, easing back with an assessing look. Another apology rests on the tip of your tongue but you bite it back, knowing he would refuse it if it ever entered the air.

“I am. Thanks,” you say, eyes looking for your phone as you realise suddenly that it is no longer in your hand where you’d left it. Yoongi holds it up, handing it back easily; his gaze passes over the screen as he does so, and the look he gives you is one of empathy and knowing.

“Shitty family?” he inquires, and you nod, choosing not to look at your phone and to slip it straight into your pocket instead. You go to sit against the wall, facing the edge of the patio, and he joins you.

“I get it,” he says, lifting a hand to fluff up his grey-tinted hair before shifting his gaze out to the rain and its reunion with the ocean. “’Part from my parents, the rest of my… relatives… they’re, uh… they’re not so nice. Didn’t treat me all that well, or even my parents for that matter. So… I get it. You don’t have to elaborate if you don’t wanna, but I get it.”

You don’t really know what to say to that; not that you’re speechless, per se, but moreso that there is simply so much going through your head at once that you can’t seem to settle on anything to voice.

“Thank you,” you say again, sniffling as subtly as you can as you focus on evening your breaths and calming your heart. You feel something on your hand and look over to see Yoongi has placed his palm over your own, his face soft and comforting.

“It’s no problem.”

A different kind of ache, the sort that is tinged around the edges with bittersweet warmth, begins to make itself known amongst the turmoil in your abdomen, and in this moment you can’t quite decipher whether it’s a good feeling or a bad one. What you do know, though, is that you’ve never been more thankful to have had the fortune of meeting these boys and having them make room in their hearts for you, even just a little, than you are right now.

O – O – O

You can’t believe that all the time you’ve spent here has gone so fast, and that currently there is no more than a week before your three month deadline is up and your contracted stay at this house is to come to an end.

If you’re being honest with yourself… you don’t want to go.

When you’d first come to this house, you’d expected that you would have a nice time, but also that you would be eager to move out by the end of the three month period. You had no way of knowing how well you’d fall into routine here, how attached you would become not only to the residents but to the home, the place and the feeling it offers and the way it allows you to feel happier than you have in years.

You know that you have to leave, they’d only agreed to house you for the three months after all, and you also know that they seem to have realised your time here is coming to an end as well. You’ve caught them talking amongst themselves a few times, not quite whispering but definitely conversing about something that halts as soon as they catch wind of you anywhere nearby. You get the sense that they’re unsure how to approach the topic, and you understand since it’s a bit tough for you yourself. You decide to bite the bullet and do it for them, though.

You ask them to meet you in the living area, a week before you leave, to talk. You wanted to just… officially thank them, you suppose. They’ve done a lot for you, in the time you’ve been here, whether they realise it or not. They’ve helped you settle, they’ve shown you that there really is more to life outside the misery your relatives tended to create, and they’ve ensured every second you’ve been with them that you have felt welcomed, and included.

Truthfully, it means more to you than you know how to put into words.

Which is why it’s especially difficult for you to accept that you have to leave.

The expressions on their faces as they gather are a mixture between curious and somewhat apprehensive, with Namjoon, Jungkook and Hoseok bordering on nervous. You wonder why before realising they might not know why you called them here.

“Hey, thanks for gathering,” you say, attempting to keep it light and ensure the smile stays on your face. Of course, they all return is as they take seats across the room, some on the couch and others on the coffee table or the floor. Taehyung’s head tilts, tail curling lightly behind him.

“Um, I just wanted to say something to you—to all of you, while I could. I didn’t think I’d be able to catch everyone in the one room any time but on the weekend,” you muse, smile widening at the round of light laughter your joke elicits. You shift, taking a breath and grounding yourself through the motion of meeting their gazes, one by one.

“I wanted to say thank you,” you begin, voice softer than intended but not so soft that you’re worried their senses won’t pick it up. “Because when I moved here it was to get away, and start anew, and you guys… really gave me that. You’ve made these three months the best and happiest months I’ve had in a long time. I’m so thankful that you let me in, and welcomed me into your home and even into your lives. I don’t think I can word this the way I want to but… really. Thank you, so much. I know I have to leave in a week, but—”

“Oh!”

You halt mid-spiel, wide eyes moving to Taehyung as he suddenly sits up, holding his hands out. “So that’s what you wanted to talk to us about—we actually wanted to talk to you about something, too.”

Freezing, you simply blink, mind coming up blank as to what they could possibly want to talk to you about. Namjoon clears his throat when no one else follows up after Taehyung, averting his eyes before he gathers himself and meeting your confused look. “Well, you probably noticed we’ve been talking amongst ourselves a lot lately—I mean, I know you’ve noticed because you’ve walked in on us a few times, and we’re not very good at being subtle, but—”

“We want to know if you’d like to stay here—permanently.” Taehyung cuts his friend off before he can finish, apparently no longer able to hold the question at bay. There is an expression of pure, unguarded sincerity on his face, excitement lighting in his eyes. “We all talked it out and found that we want you to stay—all of us.”

“You fit,” Yoongi says suddenly, voice still soft but loud enough for you to catch easily. He offers you a gentle smile when you look his way. “We know that if you left, the house wouldn’t be the same after… it would be missing something. You haven’t been here long, but you’re kind of already part of our family so… please don’t go, if you don’t want to.”

Some of the others are pinning Yoongi with a surprised look that you suspect is not directed at what he said, but rather the fact that he said it. You’re too busy biting your lip and trying not to cry like a baby to notice all that much.

“Is that really okay?” you ask, déjà vu washing over you as you think to yourself that again, this sounds too good to be true. “Do you guys really want me to stay?”

Immediately, there is a mixture of nods and loud ‘Yes!’s and ‘Of course!’. You really can’t hold it back, you find, because the sudden flood of warmth and affection washing over your insides is more than you know how to handle. You sniff, unable to reach the tears fast enough to prevent their fall down your face.

“Will you stay?” Yoongi asks, head tilted. Regrettably, his tenderness makes more tears fall.

“Yeah,” you manage, wiping your face furiously, “Yeah, I will. Thank you.”

And that’s all the confirmation you need before your new family is tackling you one by one, replacing your sobs with laughter and making sure you know that from now on, you don’t have to cry alone, you don’t have to be sad alone. They’re here for you.

And it feels so, so nice.

a/n: thank you so much for reading! please let me know what you think and how it made u feel, and let me know u enjoyed it by liking and reblogging! feel free to even just send me an ask screaming! thank u! i love u !

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