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svnflowervol666 · 3 years

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hey! can you write one where harry invites y/n and his band mates out for drinks and they try to hand her a drink but she reveals she previously by saying like “you can’t drink when your pregnant” ...

Word Count: 2.3k

A/N: I combined this one with a request for where Harry constantly refers to Y/N as his “ex-girlfriend,” because they’re engaged now. ((Super cute. Super corny. Makes my heart mush. Anyway.)) Kinda short but still sweet. I hope you enjoy it nonetheless! Take care and TPWK.

“There she is!”

His voice is drowned out by clanking glasses and the heavy bass of whatever rock song was playing through the shitty speakers in the corner of the room, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. Followed by his “greeting” were the shouts and howls of the rest of the bunch, most of them raising their glass in honor of her (late) arrival.

“My ex-girlfriend!”

Harry, despite his inebriated state, smiled widely and welcomed her as protectively as he always had in the past few weeks - relieving her person of any bags or extra weight, this time being her coat and purse which he hung on the brass hooks underneath the bar table, and inspecting her facial expression for any signs of discontent or worry. He couldn’t pinpoint the exact moment when he kicked his “dad-mode,” tendencies into overdrive, but it certainly began on that rainy, Thursday night in their shared bathroom as they sat against the wall of the bathtub with four positive pregnancy tests in both of their hands.

“Really wish you’d stop calling me that, Har,” she sneered as he helped her shake her arms loose from her coat.

“One of these days you’re gonna cause a scene.”

“'S true, though,” the drunken boy giggled.

“You’re not m’ girlfriend anymore. You’re my fiance.”

She shook her head and rolled her eyes at his antics, intending to pull him in for a quick hug and kiss when her attention was drawn away from her curly-headed brunette and towards the man of the hour.

“Y/N!”

“Hello, birthday boy,” her voice was mellow against the drunken slur that had started to take over her friend, Mitch’s.

“‘S not very nice of you to be late to my party,” he slurred as he pulled her in rather harshly for a bone-crushing hug.

“Sorry, got caught up with some work stuff,” Y/N managed to get out through a chuckle in between Mitch’s squeezing.

She saw Harry stiffen out of the corner of her eye, like he was torn between yelling something akin to, “Take it easy on her, mate. She’s pregnant for christ’s sake,” or letting the interaction play out. He knew he wasn’t allowed to do the former, as they’d agreed to wait until they could have all of their friends and family over at the same time to tell them the good great news, so Harry opted to let Mitch hug her extra tight despite his unrealistic, dramatic worries that he’d crush her fragile frame or hurt the baby in some way. She made sure to send a reassuring smile Harry’s way when Mitch let her go from his grasp.

Short and sweet was her greeting to Sarah, both of them opting to kiss one another on the cheek.

“Let me see it one more time,” her voice was quiet amongst the chatter of the bar, almost sounding like a whisper.

Y/N felt the heat climbing to her cheeks as she let Sarah take her hand in hers to examine the ring on her fourth finger. The band was gold and slim, adorned with a dainty yet sizeable single diamond in the very center.

“So pretty,” she gushed, admiring the way the gem flittered, even in the dim, tungsten-glow of the bar.

Y/N muttered a quiet “thank you,” before making her away back to the other side of the table where Harry was waiting for her with an outstretched arm, yearning to get back to what they had been doing before Y/N had to make her rounds.

As he wrapped his arms around her shoulders, Y/N caught wind of the tequila on his breath. She tasted it too, when she pecked his lips quickly and - oh god, did she taste stout as well? Maybe she’d end up taking care of him later tonight when his head was stuck in the toilet, but that seemed plenty fair considering how often Harry had been doing the same exact thing for her here lately.

“Yeh alright? Had me all worried when ya said you’d be late,” Harry’s question was asked lowly so that only she could hear.

Harry had been with Mitch and Sarah all day celebrating, hence this was the first time he’d seen Y/N since this morning when he kissed her and sent her off to work.

Y/N nodded and smiled, though her face led Harry to believe differently.

“Got sick when I got home from the office. Just took me a little bit longer to get out the door,” she shrugged, insinuating that it wasn’t a big deal, but that she wasn’t feeling one hundred percent ready-to-party either.

“Baby,” Harry half-scolded her, feeling a good portion of his buzz leave his body when Y/N mentioned that she hadn’t felt well.

“Why didn’t yeh just tell me you were sick? Coulda came home and sat with you.”

“I wasn’t going to ask you to ditch your best friend’s birthday dinner just because I was throwing up for the fifteenth time this week,” she was stern in her words and made it clear that she was fine.

“I’m alright. I promise.”

Harry’s jaw softened at her proclamation, the muscles in his torso easing up from their tense position.

“Oi! Will you two stop whispering and get drunk with me?!” Mitch shouted across the table, bursting the bubble that had temporarily surrounded the couple whilst they talked about their sweet little secret that they were dying to tell everyone about.

“You,” Mitch pointed his finger towards Y/N’s head.

“Shots. Now,” he gestured to the bartender making drinks on the opposite end of where their table was.

Both Y/N and Harry chuckled nervously, unsure of how to work around the fact that Y/N couldn’t drink without spilling the beans.

“Think I need to get some food in my stomach before I do that. Why don’t you take Harry,” Y/N urged Harry forward by his shoulder and prayed it would be enough to entertain the drunk boy.

“Fine,” Mitch glared.

“It’ll just make it hard for you to catch up later then!”

He grabbed Harry by the bicep and cleared through the crowd of people in order to get his liquor he was so keen about.

The conversation with Sarah was light, mostly about what all they’d done today and bets on if Mitch would end up needing to be babied for the rest of the night. Y/N successfully dodged Sarah’s questions about the wedding and how planning was going along, chalking it up to busy work schedules and failing to come to an agreement on a venue and date.

“Harry’s dead set on a summer wedding, but I’m fighting for a winter date,” she dismissed through a nervous chuckle when the reality was that they were unsure how to navigate planning a wedding around the arrival of their baby to make any more decisions.

It seemed like ages passed before the two men returned. Y/N was picking at the fries and sipping on the ginger ale Harry had ordered her before she’d gotten there but was interrupted when Harry and Mitch came barrelling back to the table.

He was drunk. Quite drunk. And Y/N knew that because his body felt even warmer and his eyes looked even hazier than before he’d left. She imagined they definitely had more than once shot at the bar, but she didn’t have much time to ponder that before she felt his hands snake around her waist and rest on her hips. She reciprocated his touch, looping her arms around his shoulders and laying her head against his chest.

“Love you,” Harry muttered into the soft spot between her jaw and ear, then his hands wormed their way under her shirt to rest on the underside of her tummy.

“Love you too,” he said again.

She could feel him smile against her skin as he cradled her almost non-existent baby bump from underneath her oversized sweater. Harry was the only one who saw her regularly enough to notice the minute changes her body had been going through. To everyone else, she still looked like plain, old Y/N.

“We love you more, but if you don’t stop canoodling me in the middle of this bar,” Y/N began, speaking light-heartedly and quietly in his ear, “Everyone’s going to find out and you won’t get to have that announcement party you’ve been planning for weeks now.”

Harry sighed, knowing she was right, and loosened his hold on her tummy and opting to sling an arm over her shoulder to at least keep her close instead.

“I know what you’re up to,” Mitch glared at the two of them from across the table.

This gained the attention of not only Y/N and Harry but Sarah as well. Everyone turned to look at Mitch, anticipating what he was going to say next.

“And what would that be, Mitchy?” Y/N toyed.

A pout formed on his face, arms quickly crossed his chest as he huffed.

“You’re trying to get out of here and leave me all alone on my birthday.”

“Guess I’m not even here then. I’m a hallucination,” Sarah baited with a roll of her eyes.

“We’re not trying t’ leave ya, mate. Promise,” Harry stuck his pinky out across the table as a gesture of sincerity.

“Are too.”

Mitch’s drunken rambles were beginning to sound quite childish now and became more amusing by the second.

“Are not, honey bun,” Y/N requited.

“Liars. Both of you.”

Mitch launched a bunched up straw wrapper in Harry’s direction that bounced off of his most prominent curl and landed somewhere near his feet.

“Where would we even go, hmm?” Harry taunted, resting his chin on the knuckles of his free hand that was leaned against the table.

“What could we possibly planned tha’ would be better than spending time with you lot on your birthday?”

They watched as Mitch’s remaining sobriety fought hard for an answer, but ultimately giving into his drunkness and murmuring, “Don’t know! Probably going off to screw each other or something!”

The table burst into laughter, and Y/N hid her face in Harry’s chest out of embarrassment.

“Wouldn’t surprise me actually,” Sarah quipped before taking a huge sip of her cocktail.

“Look. Here’s the deal,” Mitch tried his best in his drunken stupor to be serious.

“Prove to me that you’re not gonna leave me and take another shot.”

“Fine,” Harry shrugged.

“Let’s go back t’ the bar then.”

He started to pull Mitch along but was stopped suddenly.

“No,” Mitch was quick to intervene.

“Y/N too. If you both drink, you can’t drive home and leave me,” he said proudly as if his idea was the smartest thing he’d ever come up with.

She knew it was only Mitch being sloppy drunk and acting like the idiot he always was, but Y/N couldn’t help but feel her palms begin to sweat. They couldn’t tell Mitch the real reason why she couldn’t drink with the group tonight, so she was quickly wracking her brain for another excuse now that she’d filled her belly with french fries since giving her last one.

But there was no need to think any further, as Harry stepped in for her.

“She can’t do tha’, mate. Now, c’mon. Let’s get some more tequila. Looks like Sarah needs another drink as well, hmm?”

Harry pinched his nose in annoyance. He was trying his hardest to keep this all under wraps, but Mitch was making it extremely difficult.

“Who are you? Her keeper? Telling her what she can and can’t do?” Mitch yelled.

“No, you nunce. She can’t drink because yeh can’t drink when you’re pregn-”

Fuck.

Harry clapped his hand over his mouth before he finished his sentence, but it was too late. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking when he said it. Wasn’t even sure if he was thinking at all, to be completely honest. He silently prayed that neither Mitch nor Sarah heard him, but he quickly realized that was untrue when they both stared between him and Y/N with wide eyes.

“Y/N L/N. Are you pregnant?” Sarah was the first to speak up.

Y/N felt like she was stuck in place, only able to look at Harry with a racing chest and her mouth agape.

“I, um, I - yes?” It came out as more of a question due to her state of shock.

“I’m so fuckin’ sorry. Holy shit,” Harry exclaimed as he went back to Y/N’s side to console her.

He was spiraling in fear that Y/N was angry with him, but it was mostly the alcohol making him think so.

“You’re having a baby?” Mitch’s voice was unusually quiet for how loudly he had been yelling just moments ago.

“Yeah. We are,” she was laughing nervously as she spoke.

“Sorry that Harry ruined the surprise. We wanted to have a big party and tell everyone at the same time, but I guess the cat’s out of the bag for you guys.”

She rubbed Harry’s back with her palm, a silent reassurance for Harry that she wasn’t upset with him. Mitch and Sarah, however, they couldn’t read.

Mitch said nothing, only leaving his position beside Sarah to go stand in between Y/N and Harry. He looked at them both with an expression that resembled both anger and confusion, which only added to their discomfort.

In a split second, he had his arms around both of them, hugging them tightly.

“Holy shit! This is the best birthday present ever. Uncle Mitch and Aunt Sarah. What the fuck?!” he was rambling now, beaming from ear to ear as he ran over to pull Sarah, who was also losing her shit, just in her own seat and not on top of Harry and Y/N, into the group hug.

Their eyes caught each other in the midst of the friend-sandwich they were being forced to be a part of. A smile and knowing look were exchanged between them and they knew, despite it not coming out in the most fashionable way, their precious little bub would be surrounded by people that loved them dearly.

#harry styles x reader #harry styles imagines #harry styles fluff #harry styles one shot #harry styles blurb #dad!harry #dad!harry x reader #harry styles x pregnant!reader #asks

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criticallyacclaimedstranger · 3 years

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Fic: Friday Morning

Frankie x reader oneshot (cishet FM, no kids, established relationship)

Rating: Explicit, just to be safe (mentions of masturbation, anal, and dick pic sending)

Summary: You have plans with Frankie tonight, and you know just how to make him yearn for you all day long.

A/N: This was earlier posted as a oneshot titled Anticipation but I'm taking the artistic freedom to repost it as part of my Mornings With Frankie series (also fixed a couple of typos and cleaned up the text). I didn't have the time or inspiration to write a completely new piece because I was busy enjoying the first cool, rainy day in two weeks, and also I worked on my multi-chapter fics. You can thank me later when I post them.

Thank god it’s Friday.

You dry yourself off after the shower which, together with the orgasm you gave yourself with the massaging showerhead, has energized you enough to feel good about the early hour. You hum some old song as you blow dry your hair and apply makeup. You have the early shift which means you get off work at five, and you’re going out with Frankie tonight. You haven’t had a proper date night in a long time, so today is going to be filled with teasing texts and tingling anticipation. Dinner is going to be foreplay and when you finally get home…

You put on of your favorite red lipstick, just for the sake of it, before giving yourself an approving look in the mirror. You look and feel great today. Leaving the bathroom, you go into the bedroom closet to pick clothes: skin-tight jeans with rips across the thighs, and a low-cut, loose shirt. Casual but Frankie’s going to love it.

You grab your purse and venture into the kitchen where Frankie’s pouring himself another cup of coffee. He’s going in later to work today but he’s more of a morning person than you are. Besides, if he’s going to have a chance to use the bathroom, he has to get out of bed before you.

You move up to Frankie’s broad back and slide your hands around his waist as you lean your forehead between his shoulder blades and inhale his scent. He’s still wearing the same t-shirt he wore to bed and he smells intoxicatingly of sleep. One of his hands automatically covers yours, squeezing lightly. You stand up on your tippy toes to reach his ear.

“I want you to fuck my tight ass tonight, baby,” you breathe with the hint of a moan, your lips touching his earlobe. Frankie freezes for a moment before exhaling and putting his coffee mug down. You notice with satisfaction that his hand trembles slightly. He turns around, meaning to embrace you but you’re quicker; you pull up his t-shirt and dip your head to suck his right nipple hard before giving it a bite and, finally, taking it between your teeth and stretching it out before letting go with a wet little pop. You secretly hope that he'll leave your lipstick traces unwashed on his skin, wear them as a brand signifying whose he is.

You straighten his t-shirt and give him a bright smile.

“Have a good day!”

You then pick up the takeout coffee mug he’s filled for you, to to the hall to put on your shoes, and shout a good-bye as you walk out.

When you pull into the parking lot of your workplace, you check your phone and find a message from Frankie. It’s a dick pic, and the dick ain’t small, not even in his large hand. You hum to yourself in appreciation as the insides of your thighs tingle. You reply:

Save some for me.

His answer comes almost immediately.

This way I’ll last longer tonight.

You grin.

We both know that’s not true when it comes to anal.

He types fast for someone who's jerking off in the bathroom.

I enjoy trying.

You laugh out loud and put your phone back into your purse before getting out of the car.

Fridays are the best.

#my fic #triple frontier #triple frontier fanfic #francisco catfish morales #francisco frankie morales #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x reader

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musedblues · 4 years

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We’ll Be Alright

Summary: The heart wants what the heart wants. Roger seems to live by that motto. You're certain he has more than enough. But he's determined to prove you wrong.

w/c: 12k (oops?)

a/n: Here it is! My LOC Event Fic for the wonderful darling @brianandthemays 🌈 This is my first time publishing something for Roger, so I'm a bit anxious, but mostly excited! I sincerely hope you enjoy this lovie 💖 Thanks to @dtfrogertaylor for hosting another fun event! Without further ado...

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

Freddie escorted you through the doors of his favorite overpriced coffee shop, a Thursday afternoon tradition. Like always, you followed behind your friend and complained about the things that had gone wrong all week since the last Thursday like this one.

"...And not only did my internship get canceled, but they dropped the whole production. Now it's too late for me to sign up to any other until the fall." You fretted all the way to the back of the place, plopping down in a booth across from Freddie. He was entirely overdressed for the casual occasion, but you'd be worried if he wasn't.

"Well, you think you've got it bad, dear, we're on an actual fucking deadline for once. We have to record in two months and we have no songs, and no place to stay and rehearse for a month. All our neighbors have had enough." Freddie waved his hand and widened his eyes, only trying to relate to you by airing out his own misfortunes.

"You're kidding, right?" You narrowed your eyes as Freddie waited for you to make clear what you thought was already obvious. That's when a barista brought out your usual drinks. The staff had come to expect you and Freddie to twirl in like clockwork and order the same drinks at the same time each week. So eventually, someone started making your orders ahead of time.

"Decaf tea and a piping hot black coffee." A familiar girl placed mismatched cups between yourself and Freddie. Your feather haired friend bowed to the barista who laughed on her spin the other direction.

"Fred!" You snapped his attention back on you, wrapping your fingers around the steaming mug.

"My dad owns that countryside villa in Surrey." You reminded. "Well, it's more of a done up farmhouse. But, still." The countryside getaway was more quaint than Romanesque, but it was big enough for a band. Freddie's obsidian eyes sparkled, maybe with remembrance, but you couldn't tell past the obvious hope that flooded his gaze.

"Oh, darling. Do you think we could come and stay for a while? We just need a place to write and rehearse before we record. Could you help?"

"I'll see what I can do. We have a big empty barn where you could set up your instruments to practice." You shrugged, taking a sip of your tea.

"You'd save my life darling, you'd absolutely be my queen." Freddie fawned.

"Yeah yeah, some friends we are. I've talked about spending summers in Surrey more than anything. Do you even know me?" You dramatically provoked, sticking your lip out for show.

"I know that you always order decaf tea. And that your dad owns a place in Surrey. And that I'd do anything for you if we got to stay."

"You're in luck... I haven't got anything better to do this year!" You laughed, albeit a little somberly. You had always loved wasting away summers in the countryside. But, until recently, you'd finally been an arm's length away from dipping your toes into the metaphorical waters of your dream job. You'd finally felt like the future was at your doorstep, and it was all canceled in the blink of an eye.

///

You followed Freddie home from the coffee shop, at his behest. When the sunset, he and his three best friends were scheduled to put on a show. And according to Freddie, you needed something new and fun to wear. At the foot of his bed, he tossed dresses and tops and scarves over his shoulder, digging in an old chest for something your style. You leaned against his pillows, laughing as your friend argued with himself while matching patterns.

From behind Freddies halfway shut bedroom door, you heard the front lock turn and a bright giggle you didn't recognize echo into the flat.

"Roger's home." Freddie looked up to you, holding out a dress and jacket to imagine how it might fit your form.

"That doesn't sound much like Roger." You laughed, posing in place as Freddie held up another outfit. With a look, he moved to click his bedroom door shut.

"You're right. It sounds like Ivy. Who I'm sure is a fine girl, but is entirely wrong for Roger." Freddie tossed a floral number your way as he shut the lid of the chest decidedly. You let out an "Ah," of understanding moving to change your outfit.

"Is anybody right for Roger?" You chuckled, thinking to the few long evenings you'd spent getting to know Queen's drummer. He was deadly funny, and jarringly good looking. With an overload of talent and style, you recognized Mr. Taylor as one of the most sought after bachelors in the region- using the word bachelor loosely. He always seemed to have a lady on his arm. At least one girl was hot on Rogers trail each time you'd been near him.

"Well, yes." Freddie sang, leafing through his own closet. "He needs someone driven in their own right. Someone willing to deal with all the pressures of Roger being a superstar, because you know darling, we're going to be famous one day. Someone who will be happy for him. Someone he can be just as proud of."

You halfway listened as you shimmied into the outfit your dear friend picked just for you. It fit quite nicely, even with the back still unzipped. Freddie had thrown on a yellow and black striped jacket before he sauntered over your way.

"Someone quite like you, if I'm honest." Freddie seemed to confess as he zipped you into style. He barely got the chance before you spun to face him, holding back a barking laugh.

"You can't be serious." You began, watching Freddie feign innocence. "Freddie. No. You're scheming I can tell!" You pointed as your friend spun out of your way. Where was all this coming from?

"I don't know what you're on about, love." Freddie sighed, grabbing a pair of sunglasses. "I'll leave things between you and Rog to figure out yourselves." He reached for the door with a shrug.

"There isn't anything between us to discuss!" You laughed, in a bit of shock at the prospect of this conversation you hadn't seen coming at all. You'd never had more than a few casual conversations with Roger. Freddie seemed to drop it, spinning into the main room to get the show on the road.

Roger was there, lounging with a pretty little hippie lady decked out in lace. Freddie called for the pair to get up and get going- it was time to head toward soundcheck.

"Rog, before we leave, pay some respect to the lovely y/n. She's going to save our lives this summer!" Freddie fawned, ignoring your previous discussion, trying to start a fire that you never realized had the potential to burn.

As Roger led his date out the door, he stalled to greet you for the night.

"Nice dress, love." Roger's familiar rasp was gentle past his grossly over-rehearsed line. His saucer eyes raked up your figure in a way you'd seen him do to others, but never to you, until now.

"Thank Freddie." You spoke through your teeth, turning away from Roger to hide your blush and shoot your glare to the frontman who was already biting back an "I told you so."

///

You could count the evenings you'd spent with Queen on a couple of hands. But the days you spent with Freddie were in the hundreds by now. He was your closest friend, someone you meditated with, cried with. Someone who might have known you better than you knew yourself. And on occasion, some of Fred's bandmates would join in on the fun.

John had become accustomed to accompanying you and Fred on Thursdays for coffee and tea. You liked John's ideas and the way was keen to listen to you and Freddie banter more than he joined in to do the same. When John spoke, it was decidedly. A wit filled joke, or a valuable point, John hardly uttered any passing thought; unless, of course, he was absolutely hammered.

Brian would sometimes join you and Freddie before shows for dinner, or on rainy Sunday afternoons to play Scrabble and dream of the future. You admired the things that mattered to Brian and how fiercely he protected the value of the things he spoke of, big and small.

Then there was Roger. He was always around, in the other room, at the back of the stage, at the end of the night. But he usually kept company of his own. And the times he joined in for Scrabble or lunch, he was usually too preoccupied with whoever he brought along. But there were odd exceptions- when Freddie had fallen asleep and Rogers dates would leave for the evening- when you'd share a drink in the kitchen and traded updates on your week.

Times like then, you noticed Roger's gaze was hypnotic. You didn't think it was a power he used manically. You figured it was a trait that came naturally, the inherent draw of his piercing blue eyes. It must have been what made all the girls line up like ducklings and follow Roger around for their turn at wooing him. He was always kind to them, and a few times you wondered if he might have fallen in love. But then another would follow the last and you decided that Roger must have been happiest dating around, meeting all kinds of people with all kinds of stories to share. Such was the way of a man who dreamed of touring the world, singing about it, and the lot.

///

"Do you own any wellies?" You asked, twirling your mustard yellow phone cord around your index, studying your grossly overpacked suitcase.

Freddie's response of laughter was rich and crackly through the other line.

"I'm just saying... that you're bound to muck up those ballet flats of yours when you and the boys come to stay in Surrey in a week."

"You serious? We can come and stay? Oh, how shall I ever repay you?" Freddie shrieked into your ear. You held the receiver back with a grin as you tossed a couple of sweaters on the floor in hopes your suitcase would better zip closed. Freddie promised you he was on his knees, shouting thanks into the phone. You promised you'd see him soon, gave him the last of the info he needed, and managed to seal your bag shut.

///

You swore you could smell the freshness in the air, see the vibrant hue of the trees through clearer eyes. The house in Surrey your father called a villa, was the place you spent most summers.

Until the last few summers in a row, the summer palace was a place your extended family came to stay for a month or two. You'd all get together and kick around the countryside for a while, forgetting petty worries and putting off all the responsibilities you could manage. You hadn't missed a summer yet, but each one became quieter, less action-packed. Last year it was only yourself and your parents who spent a while enjoying the quiet getaway.

But you always had Mona. The old, cheery, pale-haired woman hired to come around on the weekends to help keep order about the place. You always insisted she stay and enjoy a day or two of peace when her work was done. Mona always accepted the offer, much to your delight. When there was nothing left for her to do, she gave in to your pleas to help bake ridiculously complicated recipes or to simply keep you company in the quiet for a while. You and Mona would lose yourselves in conversation while cooking meals and enjoying days where you did nothing but track the rise and fall of the sun in the sky.

Then there was Otto. He was your only neighbor for miles, right across the road, behind his own mess of trees. Otto was only a few years older than you, and when his parents left the property, he gladly took it over with big plans of his own. After Otto had landscaped his home to his heart's content, your father hired him to come and spruce up your family's property. Even if that hadn't ever happened, you'd already made a habit of inviting Otto over for dinners and game nights. You imaged going it alone in the depths of the country had to be lonely so many months in a row.

Last summer, Otto made miraculous headway on your property's garden. He planted new trees, fixed up your old windows, and even built a chicken coop, something that provided a bit of entertainment for you, but became your neighbor's pride and joy.

He'd stop over every day, even if it was just to check on the chickens. And following close in Otto's stride from across the road, was his pet retriever, Pepper. Otto never minded when you stole his pet for walks through the trails you'd worn between trees in the distant forest, over the years.

In fact, the golden pup was always the first one to greet you every summer. The tradition held fast even now, as you pulled into the gravel drive. You spotted her yellow form zooming from out of nowhere at all, barking to greet you.

"Hi Pepper!" You chimed after collecting your luggage. You dropped to your knees at the edge of the drive as the dog bound your way. She was nearly eight years old, or was it nine, now? Pepper pranced in time with you as you made your way to the countryside home for another year in a row.

"Your dog missed you especially, this year." Otto's familiar accent drifted from the porch, where he appeared to stand painting the entry doorway. He dropped his brush and turned to watch you ease up the steps, with a smile.

"I missed her too." You smiled, rolling your eyes at the decade-old joke. The pup belonged to Otto but she was always hot on your heels, usually leaving her owner far behind whenever you were near.

"Ah yes, she has been sneaking in and sleeping on your bed. Hope you don't mind the extra layer of fur tonight." Your mother popped her head in the doorway, careful not to touch the fresh paint. She waved you inside, insisting Otto follow along. Apparently dinner was ready.

The home was as cozy as ever, long wooden halls and big comfy furniture. Your father was sat at the kitchen table, sorting through a stack of mail. Behind him your old, dear friend. Mona abandoned her mission to reorganize the silverware drawer to wrap you in a big warm hug. The kind woman had always been like a grandmother to you. Between the company of her and Otto, your summers here were even more special and sought after.

"Alright, sit." Your father turned his eyes toward yours, gesturing for you to rest in the empty seat at his side.

"Nice to see you too, dad." You laughed, gazing to the mail set out before him.

"I've socked up on food and essentials for all your mates coming in a week. And since they are your friends, ya think you can handle staying here while mum and I go on our own summer holiday?"

Your father figured you could handle keeping order, and he made plans with your mother seem like a long time coming.

"I can phone your uncle to come help if you don't think you can manage it."

"How hard can serving tea and keeping the place clean be? I'll have Mona's help like always. And Otto's a great human security system. remember a few years back when he wrestled a man double his size, to the ground? Made him cry."

"Oh yeah, that guy! Pretended his car broke down and tried to break in." Your mother pointed with a shiver. Otto had spotted the stranger stalking toward your home in the middle of the night, and you all woke up to the sound of the two wrestling in the gravel driveway.

"I'm just a poor gardener, but I'll do what I have to." Otto declared as you all chuckled at the distant memory. Otto took a handful of dinner plates from your mother's grasp and offered to help set the table as you moved next to Mona to help finish make the first evening meal of the summer.

///

It was early enough for you to double-check everything three times. Living room tidy? Check. Snacks on the counter? Check. Extra blankets, pillows, and beer enough for a band full of divas? Check. All that was left to do was sit on the porch with Pepper at your feet, and wait.

You'd spend endless days doing just that, but you had never had something quite like this to look forward too. You'd brought some pals to stay, growing up, but this was different. You could almost sense that Queen's stay in your family's cherished getaway would be the marking of a time you'd remember more fondly than most.

Eventually, the sound of crunching gravel disrupted your daydreams of the future. You were quicker than Pepper at your feet, who followed behind on your bolt down the porch steps with a delighted squeal.

John was the first one to step out of the van when it pulled to a stop. You raced up to greet him with a hug, one he returned with a bit of shy reluctance, but genuine mirth all the same.

"You're here! You're here!" You cheered, noticing Brian as you broke your hug with the feather haired bass player. You couldn't be stopped from greeting the lanky guitar player with the same excitement, your hug ended when Freddie's voice called out;

"I'm here! Hug me!"

Freddie planted a kiss to your cheek as you flung yourself toward him with a smile. The band stretched their legs out onto the grass, remarking about the beauty of the countryside.

"Welcome, you." You looked to Freddie, whose brows rose high over his dark sunglasses, his smile glowing as he peered past your shoulder to take it all in.

"Don't I get a warm welcome?"

Roger's familiar rasp whined from a few paces behind. He was dressed in denim head to toe, and was wearing the most ridiculous hat you'd ever seen. It made your heart buzz with some odd adoration you hadn't expected to feel at the sight of him. Your strange sudden feelings made approaching the blonde seem newly nerve-wracking, but you were glad to see him. So you opened your arms and invited Roger into a hug, same as everybody else. But Roger wasn't everybody else, was he?

Ever expressive, Roger scooped you up and lifted your feet from the ground in gratitude as he said,

"We owe you our lives for making this happen!"

You laughed in surprise, letting out a little squeal as Roger stumbled in an attempt to spin you around.

"Rog, put her down! She's got to give us a tour of this place or we're bound to get lost. It's massive." Freddie barked.

Roger did as he was told, setting you on your feet with care. You pulled down the bill of Rogers silly hat and spun around to lead everyone inside.

As the boys entered your favorite place, you introduced them two at a time to your family and friends who hurried to greet them all the same. It was a mess of hello's and warm welcomes as you shut the door and stepped further inside.

Your father held an arm out to show the boys to their rooms, chatting away on his tour down the halls. Your mother lifted a brow and shoulder when her gaze met yours after lingering on the band as they walked away.

"You've got a fun summer ahead." She grinned as if she knew something was coming, something you couldn't see yet.

The next thing you knew, you were helping Mona finish making dinner. You were sent to find Otto in the forest of flowerbeds outside of the barn. The two of you walked up the hill after you invited him in for dinner, listening to Otto ramble about the plans your father talked him into, of starting a vegetable garden.

Your mother had already rounded up everyone else in the dining room, going on about how excited she was to get to know your friends. And to your surprise, she'd even broken out the fancy fine china.

Between Otto and Freddie, the usual security you felt in their company had only been on separate respective accounts. Your worlds colliding was something you hadn't expected to be so warmed by. As you ate, you realized all your favorite people were here in one lucky place.

Queen were ever themselves, interrupting one another to share stories with your parents and Mona who asked questions at breakneck speeds. And while the jokes and banter flew from one topic to another, you held your breath each time Roger spoke up. Because every time before now, Roger only spoke in playful tones, and daring one-liners. You expected him to say something that might have embarrassed you, even if that wasn't his goal, if he even had one. But Roger surprised you in a different way, one you hadn't expected.

He utterly charmed your mother with the way he spoke about his education and aspirations. He gained your father's respect sometime after you poured everyone a new drink. During dinner, Roger was... shy. No, not shy, respectable. Boyish. No, not boyish... forbearing in a way you'd never seen from him before. Maybe you didn't have Roger figured out after all...

///

Your room was full of things you loved, in the back of the house. You enjoyed the privacy, but seeking through the halls at odd hours was always a challenge you held your breath during. The wood creaked underfoot as you followed the beams of the rising sun through the halls, daring not to wake anyone.

You snuck toward the front door without a hitch, clicking it shut with care. When on the steps of the porch, you were surprised to find two of the boys had already risen and were sharing a smoke.

John and Roger turned their heads from the steps, smiles stretching when they saw you.

"The only time I've seen you two up this early was if you were still awake from the night before." You laughed, stretching into the new day.

"Never realized you were such an early riser, either." John spoke up, stamping out his cigarette.

"Things are different here." You shrugged, making your way down the steps between the two musicians.

"Where are you going?" Roger wondered. His hair was tangled from sleep, but the dark spots near his eyes suggested he'd only tossed and turned all night.

You found yourself searching his features for a beat too long, and only played it off by raising a brow and nodding for the boys to follow you, if they so desired.

And they did. As you rounded the back of your home, you stalled near the shed and grabbed a bucket from it's tried and true stop- then you headed for the chicken coop.

This was something you did every morning, you'd never missed one. Otto handled everything else, but he always let you help out if you pestered him enough.

"This is Otto's coop." You introduced the paint chipped structure as John and Roger chuckled in awe, the band had yet to have a proper tour of the grounds.

"He built it, and everything. But I come out here every morning, just gives me something to do." You waved for the boys to walk ahead of you, before you made it to the spot you stopped in every morning.

Chickens emerged like clockwork, and the boys went about chasing a couple around like little kids. One took a particular liking to John, flowing at the man's side, stopping when he stopped. And try as he might to bend down and reach out to a group of the birds, Roger had yet to score any over.

"Why don't they like me?" He whined while John laughed in response. And just like that one bird turned from the group and started flapping and clucking toward Roger, sick of being pestered. The blonde bolted to his feet with a yelp, skipping away until the chicken stopped chasing after him in a flurry.

"I'm scared, hold me." Roger reached out to you, wrapping his arms around your side. It was comforting, it felt like less of a joke than Roger made it seem. But when you turned your head to look at him, you wondered if Roger might have actually been a little distressed.

But he'd constricted your arms, and you couldn't hug him back. So you glanced back to the house and said,

"Come on, ya big baby."

Roger's grasp slowly loosened as you lead the way, but you could feel his eyes remain fixed on you.

"I'll keep you safe, big baby." John threw an arm around his friend's shoulders as the three of you started your trek back up the hill and around to the front porch. Roger let out a comical fake cry just before you made it inside to find Freddie and Brian reluctantly awake in the kitchen.

The boys gathered around the table while you scurried to make tea, and insisted they help themselves to anything in the cabinets. And it wasn't long before the rest of your parents emerged out into the new day, Mona popping out into the kitchen soon after.

Your father showed the band to the barn, and offered to help them unload their instruments in the big empty space. Your mother took the tea you poured for her and settled into the sunroom with Mona, where you joined the ladies to gossip about everything that happened since last summer.

Day's like today, there isn't much for Mona to do, but she still got paid for sitting around chatting with you. Though she'd likely turn down the extra cash at the end of the weekend, your dad would always sneak a few bills into her purse when she wasn't looking. You'd have to remember to do the same when you were left alone.

///

Your parents and Mona all left the next morning, and the week that followed was some kind of adventure- even with the little routine you'd found yourself in.

Brian ended up being the early bird, while the others milked every last bit of sleep they could get. When you awoke and found Brian reading in the small nook of the living room, you got to talking about something so in-depth that he followed up out to feed the chickens. And that's how most mornings all week had gone, chatting away in the early morning, meandering down the hill to the birdhouse with Bri at your side, prattling all the way back to where you came from.

One by one the boys would collect at the table to pick at the breakfast you'd gotten in the habit of making, before they drifted off to the barn.

You'd stay in to clean up, stalling near the open windows where you could hear your friends music drifting up the hill. They'd clatter through newborn songs and riffs that came together each time you stood to listen.

All week, you shared lunch with Freddie. In the sunroom, on the porch, wherever as long as you were together to chat like you usually would once a week at the coffee shop. And throughout your newly established daily lunch meetups, Freddie began making liberal use of his drummer's name. "Roger this," "Roger that," The blonde started taking up more space in your conversations than most other topics.

"What's with all this talk about your friend, huh?" You challenged Freddie, reaching for some fruit on a plate you shared between the two of you.

"Surely you've caught on by now, love. He's quite taken with you?" Freddie nonchalantly responded, reaching for an apple slice of his own.

"And surely if that was the case, Roger would have made that clear by now. He flirts in place of breathing." You chuckled.

"Then he must really like you. I've never known him to get so tongue-tied. Even when he's talking about you, which he never stops doing." Freddie shrugged, looking off in the direction of the warm breeze. You both stayed silent for a beat, your excuse- searching for what to say next. But Freddie found more words before you could.

"I think he would be happy with you. And I think you'd be happy with him. I just want you both to be happy."

"Well, so long as we've all got you Fred, I'm sure we will be." You grinned, truly meaning it. You and Freddie clinked your apple slices together in a toast, more like a truce to drop the subject, for now anyway.

Then as the sun burned, you meandered poolside, making Otto cease digging in the dirt long enough to ask how his day was going and distract him from work just long enough to share a few laughs.

You'd always ask him to take Pepper out, and he always insisted you didn't need to ask. You'd wander toward the forest with your furry friend, enjoying a bit of quiet. You used to bring books and pencils along when you had nothing better to do than sit against a tree and dream of the future. But this year, you keep calling Pepper back the way you came at the end of the trail, in a hurry back to check in with your friends.

When night fell after long dinners full of more chatter than food, everyone decided they'd seen enough of each other. That's when you and John would steal away the sunroom, and play cards moonlight. Sometimes you wouldn't speak much at all. And sometimes you'd share secrets, wishes you thought anyone else might make fun of you for dreaming of.

And all week, when you least expected it, you kept ending up next to Roger.

The blonde would ask to sit out on the porch with you, where you curled up in a rocking chair to read. He would ease onto the wooden steps and scribble away in his notebook, crossing out lyrics and penning new ones. He'd never tell you what he was writing, and you never asked. But you heard him humming under his breath, and you missed the gentle sound when you were called back in by Freddie for one reason or another.

Roger would find you again eventually, though. He'd leaf through the books in your living room, asking about every author. He'd appear at your side at the table during every meal, even the ones everyone ate in a hurry before scurrying off to rehearse.

One afternoon he surprised you by the side of the pool, when no one else was around. Though you had started to prepare to see Roger around when you least expected it, it was always a pleasant surprise.

"How's rehearsal today?" You asked, looking up from where you sat with your feet dangling in the water. Roger squinted your way, the shadows on his face illuminated by the hot summer sun. It wasn't until you patted the space beside you that Roger spoke up, and slowly moved to join where you sat.

"Freddie called for a break. Writer's block, or something."

You hummed in understanding, watching Roger relax at your side. And after another look your way, maybe to check if you were actually keen on listening, he went on...

"I think we've all got a hit up our sleeves. Now if we could just all agree on one thing for one minute." Roger laughed, crossing his legs, reaching in the pool to grab the stem of a leaf that floated by.

Right then, Freddie stormed around the corner. He called off practice for the rest of the afternoon and declared he planned to lock himself in his room to finish writing.

When the door shut decidedly behind Freddie, you and Roger burst into shared laughter. And for another hour at least, you stayed right where you were. Roger told you about the songs he was writing. And the songs the others were writing. He asked what you would rather be doing, because surely, staying in the middle of no place with the lads of Queen around every corner, couldn't have been at the top of your list. You assured that it was, in fact. But you still somehow started to talk about how disappointed you had been to lose out on the opportunity to live your dreams, this summer. You talked about what you wanted and why you wanted it. Roger listened and asked questions he seemed truly interested in hearing the answers too. What was the harm in sharing a few more laughs?

///

The next day at breakfast, everyone was called to order by Freddie, who relaxed at the head of the table with some announcement to make. He sat in uncharacteristic patience as his friends filled up on orange juice and yammered about what they planned to accomplish that afternoon. When Brian went off on some sorry muttering over whose songs were better or worse, you and Roger locked eyes, and dulled the same sort of snicker. You were both thinking the same thing- thinking back to the conversation you had most of yesterday.

"Alright! Listen!" Freddie demanded. "We're taking a break today. We're going to lounge poolside, and gossip about trivial things. And if anyone starts to argue about recording or writing or what you bloody want to wear on stage, you'll be swiftly excommunicated to the chicken coop. Got it?"

There was little push back and soon the lot of you abandoned your breakfast to head outback.

The boys zoomed ahead of you, tossing their things into the places they claimed as their own. John sat at the small iron table under the cool shade of the umbrella and cracked open a magazine. Brian set up his things on a beach chair and was the first to creep toward the pool. Freddie checked his hair in a small compact mirror as he kicked off his sandals. And Roger raced straight for the deep end, splashing you with water on his dive in the water.

You yelped in surprise, shocked by the cold.

"Come in!" Roger chirped after emerging to the surface.

"It's a bit cold isn't it?" You laughed, setting your things on a chair nearby.

"There," Roger intentionally splashed water at your feet. "Now you ought to be used to it. Come in!"

You reluctantly sat on the edge to dip your feet in as Roger waded toward where you settled. You turned your eyes to the water to avoid ogling the drummer, your throat going dry at the sight of his mostly bare frame so close to yours.

"I supposed it's not as cold as I thought." You cleared your throat, more so trying to keep your own cool. He hummed, still inching his way closer, making your cheeks burn.

And then, he was pulling you in. Roger yanked you from the edge, keeping a sturdy hold around you to ensure you didn't go under. You felt strangely comfortable and secure in his arms, in all the commotion. But you were still surprised enough to splash water in Roger's direction, a pitiful attempt to get back at him.

"We're meant to be relaxing!" Brian reprimanded, dodging the water you were splattering his way on accident.

"Exactly, Bri, do calm down." Freddie teased as he walked down the steps to join the rest of you.

"Deacy! Darling! You can read later, come enjoy the sun while it's here!"

And just like that, Freddie's wishes came true. The people he loved circled around your favorite old pool, gossiping about trivial things and hardly mentioned making music at all. It was the perfect summer day.

Eventually, you decided to get out to fix lunch for everyone. On your walk toward the house, you found Otto hunched over a broken wagon wheel, skin tanned from years under the same summer sky. You demanded he took a break and joined the lot of you for a much needed day of nothing but fun. He agreed, but only if you'd let him help throw food together.

When the pair of you toted trays of bite-sized lunch foods out to the nearest shade, the band of boys casually flocked to join you, scattering about the shade and fueling up to float around some more. Otto gave everyone a lesson on the kind of trees you sat under. Brian took a beer back to the deep end, Freddie following close behind, muttering something about catching the last of the day's sun. John offered to carry the empty trays back in, where he planned to head for a much-needed nap, swearing he planned to beat you at cards later.

Then there was Roger, who sulked between you and the rest of his friends. He sat near you, keeping his mouth full of beer as you chatted with Otto about all the times you'd enjoyed the pool most, before. And when Roger eventually joined Freddie and Brian in the pool, the blonde kept casting looks your way, gazes no one missed.

"He's a bit mad about you isn't he?" Otto pointed out in a hush, sipping his own beer while you scoffed a laugh.

"That's just how Roger is. He can't help himself. There's usually a line of girls waiting around for him. I must be his last resort, out here in the middle of nowhere." You explained, shifting your weight in your seat and pretending you didn't notice the drummers glances your way.

"Oh please, if that was true he'd be trying to to make you blush, right now. He's resorted to lovestruck gazes, and the occasional glare my way. That man likes you." Otto chuckled, pointing his beer can toward the boys in the pool. "Trust me I'm a guy, I know what's happening."

"That's dumb." You shot Otto a look over the top of your sunglasses. "Roger is my friend." At least you were pretty sure he was. "And I know that's just how he is." You knew that for a fact.

///

The next morning you'd woken to a silent house, and found the halls were still even upon your return from feeding the chickens. You shrugged into the kitchen, realized it was a little earlier than usual, and fixed yourself some decaf tea. When the kettle rang, the hallway creaked, and you cringed on your hurry to quiet things down again.

Roger appeared in the doorway, looking as if he was still trying to wake from a dream.

"Sorry if I woke you I-"

"It's okay, you're fine." Roger murmured, easing into the room, buttoning up his undone nightshirt.

"Fancy a cup? Mona should be here any minute, we usually start the day with tea." You explained, pouring your own drink and biting your lip.

"You wouldn't mind if I joined?" Roger asked, like you'd just invited him on some grand adventure.

"Course not." You chuckled, reaching for two more cups.

You and Roger were halfway through your tea before Mona showed up. You sat together in the sunroom, where you and your much older friend usually settled at the start of every weekend. Roger asked you'd had any dreams while you slept, and you prompted him to tell of any he might have conjured.

When Mona showed up, she eased across the small table from you like always, but in place of gossip, she spoke mostly to Roger. She asked about his hobbies and he asked about her life. Roger loved getting to know people, you knew. He was always so genuinely interested in hearing what made everyone tick. When he asked Mona about her loves and losses, she'd spoke in a vulnerable way you'd never seen from her prior. Ah, of course. Roger had that way with people, like the second anyone locked eyes with his sea-blue pair, they were in trance.

And while Mona looked after Roger as he spoke, the blonde kept turning to you, asking for details of the week he couldn't quite recall, and begging you to tell a certain story he swore you had a better perspective of.

When the rest of the band showed up, they traded sweet good mornings with your guest just before pulling Roger out into the barn to pick up where they left off the day before last.

"Now what's all that about?" Mona wondered, pouring the two of you more tea, initiating a more personal one on one chat. You cast her a perplexed gaze as she settled across from you, uttering Roger's name like you should have already been thinking of it.

You knew then that Mona was curious about all the too long gazes and nervous chuckles Roger was reduced to during the quiet morning visit at your side.

"That's just how Roger is." You shrugged. "A bit of a flirt."

"Well, that's not how you are." Mona shot back with an arch of her brow. "I know you. And if you really believed he was just having a little fun you wouldn't let yourself look at him the way you've been looking at him all morning. He has the same look, too. You match."

Mona's point toward the obvious hit you like a ton of bricks. Though she was swift to move on to your usual gossip, you felt yourself floating around the same thoughts of Roger.

For the rest of the day, in fact, you struggled to accept the fact that you'd been falling for Roger. Of course, you had, everyone seemed to expect it, root for it. And Roger had the perfect pair of eyes that refused to look away from yours until you were a puddle under his gaze; ready and willing to be pieced back together by his questions about how, exactly you were made.

You took Pepper down the walking paths between ever-growing trees, and wandered between them, the long way back home. The whole time you figured there was no harm in giving in to the little advances Roger couldn't seem to stop giving. You didn't want to fall so deep your heart would shatter when you finally collided with something cold and unmoving. But you were stuck out here for another two weeks, and Roger's persistent presence was warmer than the sun.

///

The next couple of days, when you looked to Roger, your heart started up like an engine. You didn't like it one bit. You only planned to let his flirting entertain you. You couldn't become invested in it. You'd lodged yourself between wanting to spend every odd hour listening to him talk, and knowing you were better off to go about your day like usual, to save yourself the trouble.

So when Roger invited you to come and sit while the band showed off their mostly put together list of songs, you did. And when Roger sat next to you during every meal, you offered him a smile before tucking in. And when Roger woke up to share a cup of tea with you every other morning, you let him. And you liked it.

But when Roger leaned in too close, you turned your eyes to your lap, focusing on your nails digging into your palms so you couldn't feel his breath ghosting across your ear as he told a joke no one else could hear. And when Roger asked to join your walks with Pepper, you told him no, because you'd never been so alone with him before, and you couldn't let that happen now.

The week was full of conflicts between the imaginary angel and devil on either of your shoulders. You waded further from the waters of self-control, but dashed back with the tide when Rogers moonstruck gaze grew too pretty to handle.

By the end of the second week, you'd continued your normal lunches with Freddie, the occasional morning debate with Brian, and the promised game of cards with John, when everyone else went to bed.

You poured some drinks for the two of you and sat in silence while the game started up. But before too long, John eased into a conversation about how much he enjoyed your countryside getaway.

"We're all so glad you've let us come round, it's so nice to be here. Feels like home. Fred might be going a bit stir crazy but he loves it, don't let him fool you." John laughed, laying down a card. You chuckled too.

"And Bri is content out here, with all the stars." You pointed out. Every night, Brian made a show of pointing out all the things the naked eye could see when the sky started turning black.

"And somehow, Rog is happiest. Can you believe that?" John's smile remained lithe but you realized John had subtly achieved changing the subject entirely.

"No, not really." You offered an honest simper.

"He really does like you, y/n."

"Hm..."

You laid a final card down, lost the round, and stretched upright, grabbing both empty glasses to rest in the sink.

"Just because I'm the only girl around for him to attach himself to, doesn't mean he likes me." You shrugged from across the room. John stood to join you, curiously meeting your gaze, waiting to hear more of what you had to say.

"Roger just can't be alone. I'm not interested in being a placeholder." You reasoned.

"Then why haven't you told him so? You've let him follow you around like a puppy all since he got here." John pointed out unabashedly. But he wasn't wrong to wonder why you'd started giving into the small advances.

"Because I like him." You admitted with a frustrated sigh. "And all I have is the rest of this summer to pretend that I'm not just his only option. But I can't... I just can't let him break my heart. It already hurts bad enough knowing this'll all end in a week."

"I get where you're coming from..." John sighed, disgruntled. A silence weighed between the two of you, while you stood in place, mind racing too fast to focus on a single thought through the white noise.

"But, you know," John went on, raising his chin as if that would help make a clearer point. "Rog may be reckless. And he may get caught up in getting the things he wants, so much so that he'll make a bit of a mess on his mission. But when he really genuinely wants something, he gets it. And when he has it, he doesn't let it go."

"I'm a person, Deacy. Not a fucking stamp. I refuse to be collected with all the other pretty souvenirs to be left on a shelf." You spoke in a harsh, exhausted hiss. John hung his head, pursing his lips as if he'd been personally defeated. You spun to leave the room, but someone was blocking the doorway.

Roger was clutching the door frame, fingertips going white, eyes and mouth drooping pitifully. You barely looked his way as you brushed past, scurrying down the hall to take cover. And the whole time, Roger hurried after you, asking your name like a big scary question.

You managed to shut yourself in your room before the blonde rounded the corner and caught up with you. And when you heard his voice muffle past the closed door, a silly little sadness bubbled up in your throat.

You didn't want to shut him out, but you really believed you had to. A couple of frustrated tears escaped as you went on getting ready for bed, and as you tried to talk yourself down from all the mess of thoughts threatening to make you cry harder, everything turned to white noise as your eyes grew heavy.

///

When you awoke, it was as if everything that happened before you fell asleep was a fever dream. You crossed your fingers for that to have been the case and went to start your morning like every one before it.

But when you opened your door, all the dreaded feelings you'd gone to sleep with flooded back tenfold. You found Roger asleep, slumped against the wall outside your door. At his side, Pepper, comfily curled against the man with her head in his lap, asleep too. You huffed, creeping past him to do your job.

And as you hurry your practiced creep through the house and out of the door, you thought you'd made it to the porch steps without any trouble. But of course, when you reached the shed, you heard the door swing open and heavy footsteps bounding down the porch. Roger hurried toward you with wild red eyes.

"Roger I'm sorry. I didn't mean to give you the wrong impression. I guess I just got used to being around you." You let out a breath that sounded like a laugh as you grabbed your bucket of feed, and kept walking.

"Do you really feel that way?" Roger asked, voice rattling in a pitch you'd never heard him use.

"Does it matter?" You shrugged, approaching the coop.

"Do you really think I'm not mad about you? Do you really think I'm just going to go back to the city and shag the first lass I see? I want you, y/n. Isn't it dead obvious?"

"Roger!" You spun to face him, your tone starling a couple of chickens, and the blonde, who flinched away from a bird who flapped too close. "Don't do this to me!" You threatened.

If you could see up the hill you would know your voices traveled far enough to alarm John, Brian, and Freddie who were sharing tea next to the open kitchen windows. They couldn't make out what you were saying, but they could tell this wasn't going to be a morning like any other. They'd been watching things between you and Roger morph past friendly acquaintance, and they realized this must have been the breaking point. Things were boiling over, but where would they fall?

"It's worse to think you might actually be a little interested in me."

"I want to be with you y/n! Why is that bad?" Roger pointed desperately trying to make himself clear.

"For now, you might!" You shouted back. That stopped him in his tracks.

"But I want a forever, Roger. And you can't even get through breakfast without changing your plans. You can't even sign an autograph for one groupie without letting your eyes linger to meet someone else's! They might be okay with it. And if you are too, fine! But it would just break my heart."

You slammed the bucket of feed on the ground, birds hurrying toward the meal. Roger looked as though the wind had been knocked out of him. You hated it. But you had to stand your ground. It was going to hurt eventually anyway.

"Then what does it say about me that I still want you? Even if you think I'm so horrid?" Roger winced.

"I don't think you're horrid, I think you're amazing!" You shouted back with a wild gesture.

"That's the whole bloody problem!" Wasn't it obvious? "I'll want you forever, even when you don't want me anymore!" You admitted, only realizing the weight of your statement after your words hung in the air, your heart cracking in its mold.

"What do I need to do?" Roger asked in a panic, stepping closer to you. "How can I prove that you're the only one for me? For now, and for always. Tell me what you want and I'll do anything I fucking swear." Roger's voice was thick and frantic, but you'd heard him sing and forget what he'd been wailing about the morning after.

"You don't mean that!" You cried, moving away. You heard all the times he planned one date with someone else while he toted a different girl on his arm. You didn't think it was a problem, not if that's what everyone was looking for. But you weren't that girl. You couldn't wait on the sidelines and be glad you got a kiss at the end of the day. And you couldn't expect Roger to play the part you wanted if that wasn't really him. You just didn't fit together. No matter how badly you wished you did.

So you picked up your bucket and turned to stomp up the hill.

"Y/n!" Roger plead, watching your storm away. He stood debating on letting you have a bit of space. But, he'd done enough of that. He needed to prove himself now.

You stormed inside, casually so. You'd planned to ignore the rest of the boys who still stood about the kitchen, and head straight for your room. But you hadn't out run Rogers hurry to stop you. He bolted through the entry just as you reached the doorway to the hall.

"Y/n wait," Roger begged, instead of demanded. His dejected tone was what forced your feet to stall before they reached the corner. The boys fell silent from across the room while you fixated your stare at the wall, afraid if you met anyone eye, you'd burst into tears.

"Please." Roger croaked. The room was silent. And when you slowly turned to face him, Roger was struggling to hold back tears, pools brimming in his impossibly big eyes. Everyone around seemed to hold their breath, waiting for you to say something.

After what felt like forever, Freddie ushered his two remaining bandmates out the back door while you and Roger stood, deadlocked.

You sighed, shook your head, grabbed Roger by the wrist, and pulled him toward the living room. You released him from your grasp near the sofa, where Roger slowly sat, gapping your way.

"I don't want to fight with you, Roger." You sighed after a while of staring out the window, searching for just what to say.

"I'm fighting for you, y/n. I've never wanted anything more."

"But Rog..." You implored softly. But when you turned and looked at his watery eyes, you'd forgotten what point you were busy making.

He sucked in a breath bracing for you to keep at it, but you slumped, sitting next to him sorrily. You moved both of your hands to Roger's face, and brushed your thumbs under each of his eyes, wiping away the traces of tears that happened to overflow.

"Everything is different with you. I understand just saying so isn't good enough. Give me a chance to prove it?" Roger asked in a hush, looking in your eyes his fingers slowly wrapped around your wrists. The drummer slid off the side of the couch, tangled his fingers with yours, and looked up to you from his knees, one final silent plea.

Your heart was too conflicted, too quick to cower behind the wall you'd build up. So you just gave Roger a pathetic nod, because you knew you couldn't say no.

"I'm sorry I upset you." You spoke, glancing at the way Roger's hands clutched yours, still. With that, the blonde let out a sigh and rested his head in your lap, accepting the conclusion.

You lost your fingers in his strands of hair, accepting his display of affection, or whatever it might have been. All you knew was that you'd never felt more content and confused at the same time.

The pair of you stayed like that for a while, in shared silence. It was broken when Freddie's voice echoed through the back door. He called both of your names, and then Rogers once more. The band didn't have much more time to waste.

When Roger lifted his head from your lap, you stopped him from standing to brush his hair back into place. The two of you shared the smallest laugh, the tiniest expressions that made you believe you were on the same page. Then you walked toward the sound of Freddie's timbre, side by side.

The singer was wringing his hands in the garden doorway, casting Roger a concerned expression as the two of you approached. The blonde nodded toward Freddie as he walked outdoors and sauntered toward the barn, stretching his arms. But Freddie stalled in the doorway, turning to you once Roger was a few paces off.

"We'll figure it out, I promise." You told Freddie, before he could even ask. You knew he only stopped you to wonder what just happened. The only thing was that you weren't entirely too sure. "We'll be alright. And you can finish your record. I'm sorry-"

Freddie raised his hand ceasing your statement. Then he looped an arm through yours and insisted you come and listen to Queen's newly perfected masterpiece that still didn't have a name.

///

The last week you continued to share most mornings with Brian, and every lunch with Freddie. You still beat John at the same old card game. But each day you spent near Roger, was different.

The silence you shared held a new weight, a ticking time bomb. The conversations you traded were gentler, but shifted around familiar topics. There was nothing you and Roger were afraid to discuss, well, everything except one thing. And when the subject of your feelings for each other threatened to come up, you and Roger shared a glance in place of any discussion.

He followed you out to the forest with Pepper, throwing sticks she'd chase after but fail to bring back. Roger sat by you at every meal, looking to you first for every open-ended question that popped up through your friend's chatter.

And during the last night of the band's stay, after they spent the morning loading up their instruments into their van, you planned a big evening in. Setting out movies and snacks and all the proper essentials for any good party.

Otto came over, with a plate of desserts and some seeds for Brian to plant. Mona stayed an extra night, exchanging recipes with John, and sharing a long chat with Freddie and Roger in the sun room. When everyone gathered to watch a film or two, most of the boys fell asleep before the second film started. Besides you and Mona, Otto was the last man standing as the credits rolled.

When Mona lifted her frame for a big comfy claw-footed chair, she brushed past you with a wink on her way to bed. Roger had fallen asleep at your side long ago. with his head on your shoulder. You gave your old friend a pursed grin, before closing your eyes and leaning into the drummer's warmth. If whatever happened between you and Roger was only meant to last for a month, this was your last chance to enjoy it. You'd already fallen. Why not give in for a second or two?

The next morning, you awoke to find you'd switched places. Your head was comfortably perched on Roger's shoulder, his body turned toward yours as if he was inviting in the comfort. You blinked to the band still passed out around the living room. But Roger was awake, and already waiting to meet your gaze.

You could tell when your eyes met then, that it was one of those moments with a dozen outcomes. Whatever either of you said or did next felt detrimental. So you stuck to what you knew, and asked Roger if he'd like one last cup of tea. He said yes.

Eventually, the boys started dragging their suitcases to the front porch, blabbering about the sunshine and the city they were headed back to. You passed around hugs, sending each boy to their ride one by one. They all thanked you in their own silly little way, all of them groggy and reluctant to leave the quiet.

When the van pulled out of the driveway, you couldn't tell if Roger was looking back or not. You bit back tears as your friends drove off, and for the first summer ever, you feel stuck in Surrey.

///

The next time you saw Queen was on stage.

You'd made it back home to the city just in time to change and race to see your friends play. Because even though you'd had the pleasure of hearing the echoes of their endless rehearsal for weeks on end, you still weren't sick of the sound. They were set up in a small club, getting back into the swing of putting on a show for more than a wandering chicken and or two.

A usual cast of friends, groupies, and followers were scattered about the crowd. You knew some of them, and a few introduced you to faces you'd never seen before then. But when Queen took the stage, the audience ceased their chatter to join in giving the band a warm welcome.

They needed no introduction. Their instruments caught fire and melded together in perfect timing, in alarming harmony. You watched on in wonder, each member using their talent to the band's advantage, showing off in each other's favor. You'd never tire of marveling over their music.

After a setlist full of head-spinning tunes, the crowd thinned out respectively. Fans meandered out front, planning to linger near the band's parked van. Friends drifted toward the stage while the boys tore down their set, shooting winks and nods toward the groupies who slipped backstage. That left you eyeing a side exit, planning your route home, wondering if you had time to stop for a bite to eat on the way home.

But your mission toward the exit was hindered when someone yanked you backward by your shirt sleeve.

"You're not leaving." Brian declared, pulling you along, past the stage, where Freddie spun, blowing you a kiss. Brian pulled you backstage, down a couple of dank halls lined with girls and guys waiting to get their hands on one of Queen.

Brian dumped you off in the doorway of the green room, you supposed. The space offered a sofa, a mirror, and a table full of half-consumed liquor bottles. And all alone stood Roger Taylor. He appeared to have changed shirts, and was screwing the lid back on to a bottle of water when he looked up and noticed you.

If you thought Rogers eyes were bright, his smile upon seeing you was blinding.

"You came! I thought you'd be sick of us by now." Roger chuckled, opening his arms as he approached to wrap you in a hug.

"I swear you get better every time." You laughed, hugging him back, surprisingly relieved and relaxed in his arms. When Roger let go of you, he searched your face as you stood, failing to hide your blush.

"You came." He smiled again, as if he was just now really realizing you were here.

"Of course I did, Rog."

With that, he grabbed your hand like he'd done it more than once. Roger pulled you alongside him, greeting every odd familiar face in the halls. Some knew your name, others learned it when Roger introduced you in passing. He led you right to the stage, where he went to take his drums apart. Freddie cornered you to spill what seemed like every thought he had since last you'd seen each other. John even circled back around to offer you a goodbye on his hurry home for the evening.

Then, the rest of the weekend went almost just like that. You stood and watched your friends warm-up the same stage in preparation to tour later on. And when the shows ended, you waited around to make sure you told each boy hello, or goodbye.

Roger seemed to wait up for you. He never sought you out, never hurried off stage to cling to your side. He simply waited near the bar or in the green room, where you found him kicking his feet until he saw you. Then, he'd dare to cling to you. To grab your hand, or lean his shoulder against yours while you both listened to some stranger tell a long boring story.

Rogered waited up for you, and that's how you knew. At the end of the weekend, you went home feeling utterly incomplete. Thoughts of Roger used to hurt your head and heart, but the ache you felt at the thought of the blonde was much different now. You were only torturing yourself, really. It was time to give in.

You told yourself that whatever happened next, was exactly what was meant to happen. On your drive to Rogers flat, you made yourself accept your fate in advance, no matter what it might have been.

On your march up the complex stairs, you figured you didn't have much to lose.

You knocked, bolts of nerves surging through each time your knuckles met the door. When it opened, Roger seemed genuinely surprised to see you.

"Oh hey," He uttered, moving back to let you in. You glanced past Roger's shoulders as you stepped inside the space he shared with Brian, though the guitarist was usually staying with his soon to be wife in the little apartment they'd started slowly moving into.

"I thought Bri left for the evening. But I suppose if you're expecting him he'll be back any minute..." Roger reasoned, shutting the door and shuffling a safe distance away from where you'd planted your feet in the kitchen.

"I'm here to see you, Roger." You bit back a grin.

"Me? I-" His saucer eyes were innocently confused. He was clad in an old sweatshirt and his hair was still a little damp from a shower at the end of a long night. Before he had time to finish asking what you were doing here, you closed the space between the two of you.

You placed a hand on Roger's jaw and kissed him in the blink of an eye. His lips were warm and soft, and even more perfect than you imagined them to be. He stalled for a moment, but when you showed no signs of pulling away, Roger gave in. He snaked an arm around your middle and kissed you back in the manor a soldier coming home from war might have. Your lips moved together for what seemed like forever, you hoped it was.

"I'm sorry I never did that sooner." You breathed after your kisses died down. Roger kept his arm around you, holding you close against his form.

"Better late than never, right?" Roger mused, curling his lip into a grin as his eyes searched yours. This was what you wanted, no questions asked. It was time to give in.

"If you want forever, I'd love to share that with you." You nodded in a whisper, holding your breath during the nanosecond it took Roger to agree.

"I want everything with you." Roger laughed a little like he shouldn't have had to state the obvious, but was glad to all the same. You let out a small laugh too, more like a sigh of relief, though. You hadn't expected to end up in the situation, but as the summer crept into autumn, you couldn't imagine your world with Roger.

///

Thursdays were still reserved for you and Freddie to share your usual order at the coffee shop. And John still sometimes joined in to share a joke or a wise old sentiment in between your gossip. You still saw Brian at every odd dinner, game night, and gig; where you rambled and argued about the workings of the universe. And in between it all, Roger was always at the back of the stage and at the end of every day, always looking to you. You rocketed into sharing beds, and breakfasts and shopping trips together. You and Roger were never too far apart.

As autumn turned to winter, you went on the hunt for another internship and found something better; a job. It was only then you realized how glad you were to have missed out on that very first opportunity. How lucky you got when everything was canceled and you were propelled into the forest with your favorite band. That must have been how things were always meant to happen. Because the production you signed on to now caused stars to form in your eyes. It was a position even dreamier than you ever hoped to score, but something that wasn't meant to start until the beginning of the next year.

So when Queen released their record and started morphing from hometown heroes to actual superstars, they each begged you to join the tour meant to promote their new music. And you didn't have a single reason to decline.

You tagged along for a couple of weeks, snapping photos of the boys on the plane, in front of shop windows, and on each new stage they took by storm.

And as the days you'd booked to ride along dwindled away, as fate threatened to keep you apart longer than you'd like to have ever been, you just kept planning for your future.

"Let's get a dog." Roger piped up one night, as he slipped into a cozy hotel bed beside you.

"What if he gets lonely? If we get one we'd have to get another." You countered, snuggling close. Roger hummed in agreeance, while you settled against him for the last night you'd get the chance to for months in a row.

"One day we'll have all the dogs we want." Roger sighed, the softness of his tone and the rattle of his chest under your ear was just as good as any of the other music he made. "A whole farm."

"Even a chicken coop?" You teased in a falsely hopeful manner, assuming he'd shiver at the thought.

"Whatever you want." You felt Roger shrug. You lifted your head to meet his eyes, waiting for the catch, because you knew he couldn't possibly care for you so much to bend at the will of all of your silly little suggestions.

"I love you. I want everything with you. Even chicken coop." Roger spoke in a hush, reaching his long fingers to brush your cheek. You stared at him in awe, completely submerged in appreciation for Roger, and this moment you shared.

"You'll have to feed them though," Roger spoke as you searched his features. With that, you both laughed until you fell asleep, together.

When morning came, you hoped packing your bags at a slow pace would stall time, in a magic moment. But in the blink of an eye, you were rushing to catch a cab, glancing over your shoulder to find Roger watching you go.

It was hard to settle back home in the quiet rainy city without the boys to keep you company, to keep you on your toes. But you settled into your dream job, finally fulfilled with all the hard work you spent getting to the place you landed in. You worked, and dreamed of Roger, and pinched yourself every time you realized just how lucky you were.

You and Roger were further apart than ever before, even when you hadn't attached at the hip. But he called, and sent letters, and promised he'd see you soon. And you answered and wrote back and promised you were counting down the days.

When he finally came home to you after months away he bound your way with arms outstretched. Roger lifted you from the ground, spinning around with ease, pleading for you to come on the next tour, and the one after that if there was one. And you knew Roger was yours, that your days were better spent dreaming together. You knew you'd be alright.

∘₊✧──────✧₊∘

#roger taylor #roger taylor x reader #roger taylor fanfic #roger taylor imagine #loc event

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profoundsaladshoeshark · 3 years

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DAY 1 APRIL 29, 2021

Good Morning everyone! So many requirements this week and I can't handle it anymore. I can't manage my time and don't know what to do. I didn't have enough sleep. It's so gloomy outside and rainy. I want to sleep but I have some lessons to study.

It's so cold outside, end of school year is quite near and I'm super excited. I should do first this requirements before enjoying myself watching Netflix movies.

So many tasks to do this week and I'm preparing myself to be productive to do this tasks without being lazy. Before I do some tasks, my grandmother asked me for help to clean her room. We replace the curtains, we mop the floor, we decided to take a break and have some snacks. She made my favorite pineapple juice and I toasted the slice bread and we enjoy eating together.

This Thursday, our internet connection gone unstable. I don't know why but it will come back to normal as soon as possible. I went to my room and take a rest. I used my cellphone, surfed the net, and listen to my favorite classic songs. I turned off the lights and went asleep.

DAY 2 APRIL 30, 2021

This Friday, it was so hot in the morning. I went to the bathroom and take a bath. I saw my grandmother making our breakfast for us. It was eggs and hotdogs. We ate it and I will be the one who will wash the dishes. I went to our living room and I watched my favorite show. My favorite channel is the Cartoon Network and my favorite cartoon is We Bare Bears. They're so cute! I want to hug tight and be my companion to bed when I sleep every night.

I called mom and we talked for awhile when she's not busy. She's working abroad. I dropped the call because I have something to do. Today was my cousin's birthday. Me and my grandmother were invited to attend to his party. When we arrived in their house, we saw them preparing for the birthday party. We arrived earlier than I thought. When I enter on his room, I saw him using his new phone, it was a gift from his dad. Aww, how sweet! I wish when my birthday comes, mom will give me a new phone.

DAY 3 MAY 1, 2021

Thank God it's Saturday! I want to rest this weekends. I want to watch movies at night with my grandmother and also my siblings. I want to use my phone all night and play Mobile Legends because for me it was the most addictive game in the world. I look up in the sky and watch the sunset. Sunset is my favorite scenery because it makes me calm and I was so admired by the sun.

I directly went to my room and changed clothes. I go to the kitchen to make Chicken Adobo, that would be our dinner for tonight. After we ate, I surfed the net, watched horror movie, and felt asleep.

DAY 4 MAY 2, 2021

Sunday morning, I woke up early and I made a milk for myself. Milk is not enough so I cooked my own breakfast today. It was bacon, egg, and hotdog with rice of course. I'm so happy it wasn't overcooked. I charged my phone because I forgot to charge it last night.

It's lunch time, I ate Adobo that I made last night. I go back to my table where I usually study and focus on myself. It's so hot in the afternoon and my eyes are itchy. I don't have any glasses to protect my eyes from the radiation coming from my device. Layer that time, I felt dizzy and weak so I talked to my grandmother and she gave me some medicines, I should take this because I want to feel better as soon as possible. Then I rest and felt asleep.

DAY 5 MAY 3, 2021

I hate Mondays but I woke up early because of the noise coming from outside. I can still feel the dizziness so I take medicines to cure this. Then I lay down in my bed and take a rest. I felt asleep again and woke up in the afternoon, I skipped lunch because I don't want to eat. Feeling well, I go outside and ventilated myself with the fresh wind. I saw my friend walking by and I smile with a wink to her. She smiled back but doesn't wink back.

I checked my temperature and it goes back to normal. I pray to God and thanked Him because He did not forsake me even I'm a sinner. We should pray and have faith on Him, He is great, He loved us all.

Our subject teachers gave us activities and I answered it already because I have time for it and I don't want to fail, my mom would beat me if I fail. I am ready to pass it, but maybe tomorrow I should go to school or I will send it to my aunt and she will be the one who will pass it in the Drop-Pick Area in our school.

DAY 6 MAY 4, 2021

I woke up early to do my laundry because I don't have any clothes to wear. After doing the laundry, I rest for some 30 minutes, then I did my homeworks and some activities. I also workout for like 30 minutes. My grandmother cooked my favorite dish called chop suey for our lunch. I love it since I was a kid, this is my favorite dish.

I go outside and trim some of the bushes. Suddenly, a beggar came to our house, wearing a surgical mask and she asked me if she can obtain some of our papaya fruit. She also said that she was so hungry and she badly want to eat that papaya fruit. She also told me that she's 4 months pregnant. I think she is craving to the fruit. I gave her the perfectly ripe papaya fruit so that she can enjoy it. She was so thankful to me. And i said "Anytime, you're welcome!"

Being generous also makes us feel better about ourselves. We have to focus on what we are giving not on what we are receiving. We have to be selfless.

DAY 7 MAY 5, 2021

Today is Wednesday. Finally, we have our internet connection and was faster than the recent wifi we used. We can watch youtube without lagging, play online games, and lastly surf the net faster than ever before. This day I read books to enhance my reading skills. I also practiced to sing. My voice actually improved when I was a part of Musical Play in Grade 10.

When I was bored in our house, I usually go to Pili to buy groceries and my needs when I have money. I always buy my favorite Choco-Strawberry Milktea. I usually spend my money to buy foods because it helps me to cope and reduce stress. When I have free time, I play online games like COD, ML, Valorant and many more. It helps me to think critically on how to kill enemies, know the strategies, and many more.

DAY 8 MAY 6, 2021

Today is my favorite cousin's birthday. I'm so excited! Her name is Zchan and she is my beloved cousin and also my bestfriend. Since nursery, she's within me. We play our favorite outdoor games, we watch our favorite cartoons together, we do our schoolworks together, even if it there's an Honor List, we ranked 1st together. We are blessed with intelligence but I am more talented thank her. We always brainstorm together when we have a problem to be solved and the funny thing is that we usually had the same idea. I really love her so much. I prepared her a gift, it was a Gucci sweatshirt. My mom bought it for me so I can give her the gift that I know she wants.

I prepared myself, I went to their house, it's already 3:00 and thankfully I am not late. i helped her sister for preparing the party. It's only a small party because of the pandemic and also she didn't wish to have a big party celebration. Later that afternoon, we ate the foods in the table, and after that I also helped wash the dishes.

When I arrived home, I saw my grandma watching news. I proceed to my room, changed my clothes and fell asleep.

DAY 9 MAY 7, 2021

The Finals Examination for Second Semester is near and honestly I am not ready. I should review my lessons this week but I have so many responsibilities to do. We will have the general cleaning in our entire house tomorrow. My grandmother told me that I should prepare and be ready for tomorrow and finish my school activities. I also have to be the cashier in our store and take care of it.

Before our general cleaning, I already clean and organized my room so that tomorrow I will focus only on the other part of the house. Honestly my room is always clean hehe. I don't want other people sneak into my room without any permission from me. I don't want any dust in my room especially in my bed. My grandmother always tell me that she even asked me "Why am I so clean?" I answered her that since I was a kid, I usually get the "Most Neat and Clean Award". And also I told her that Good hygiene lowers your risk for diseases and illnesses commonly spread through viruses and bacteria. Washing yourself and staying clean can kill and remove illness-causing bacteria from your body, lowering the risk for disease. Good hygiene is key to preventing infection when wounds and skin irritation are present.

DAY 10 MAY 8, 2021

It was Saturday, I woke up late and I drink milk and ate some bread to have energy when cleaning the house. I go to the bathroom and take a shower, my grandmother said that I should take shower before doing a household chores.

I started at the front of our house, I sweep those fallen leaves and piled up in a designated area where we burn those leaves. Next that I did was Grass cutting. I used the pruning shears to cut those unwanted grass in our yard. The next that I did is to water my plants. Grandma loves her plants as much as me. I sprinkled some water to the plants to make them alive and healthy. The next thing that I do is to clean the window, I wiped them using squeegee and a cloth to make them dry fast. The last thing that I did is mop inside the house. Then after that I take some rest and eat those snacks that my grandmother prepared for me. Then it was dark and I fell asleep.

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emotionalgirl101 · 4 years

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Question | Chapter 7

Words: 3650

Genre: college au, angst, fluff

Pairing: SKZ x reader

Summary: Your best friend, Minho, had been refusing to introduce you to his other group of best friends for months now, with no explanation as to why. One night after getting drunk after work together, he gave in to your pleas. Oops.

Warning: Contains mature content (such as coarse language, violent themes, etc).

A/N: I’m back! 2019 was pretty shitty except for seeing Stray Kids and going to Korea. Thoughts and prayers go out to my fellow Aussies suffering from the fires. I hope you guys like this chapter (it’s the longest so far) and I hope to write and be more active this year!~

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You were just sitting there, staring at your phone. You had been all morning. You were just staring at his contact, looking at the ten numbers below his name. Your eyes scanning over and over again, as if at some point something would change or jump out at you to tell you what to do.

This had been what you’d spent all Thursday afternoon in your apartment doing. Once Minho had left, you quickly saved Jaemin’s contact. You hadn’t told Minho, but you had a feeling he must’ve had some idea because he didn’t give you a weird look when you hadn’t thrown out your bubble tea cup. You’d made some excuse about needing to keep it to remember your order. Instead of getting a sarcastic ‘sure..’ you received a nonchalant, simple ‘okay’. Mans had been acting weird all day.

You still stared at Jaemin’s name and number displayed in your phone. What the hell were you going to do? Do you call? Text? What if he’d forgotten all about you? What if he gave his number out to heaps of girls that came to the shop he worked at? What if you weren’t just some girl, though? What if he was genuinely interested? What if you’d left it too late? What if—

Suddenly, the phone buzzed. The screen faded out of the open contact and back to an incoming call screen, Eunwoo’s name spelled out for you. Thank g*d! It’s like she knew you were overthinking and came to the rescue. She was amazing like that. It happened often. You both just got a gut feeling that something was up and knew when the other needed you. The strange sense of intuition was rarely off, but on the odd occasion it was, a quick catch up was still the end result.

“Hello.” A smile took purchase upon your face before she spoke a word. You could bet it’d be about Jaemin. As soon as Minho had left your place, you texted her to see if she could call. She picked up the phone almost immediately and followed along with your recount of events, squealing occasionally on the other end of the line. You said that you’d contact him the next day because you didn’t want to seem too eager, and as your best friend, she didn’t call you out for lying through your teeth. She understood your nerves but made you promise to text him the following day.

“HAVE YOU DONE IT YET?!” You held the phone away from your ear. You’d expected this, and that it would happen again when you timidly replied with ‘not yet’. She didn’t hesitate to scold you. “WHY THE HELL NOT?” You opened your mouth to reply but shut it. Eunwoo wasn’t finished yet. You knew how dramatic she could be. Her reactions were the best. One of the many things you loved about her.

“He gave you his number! He’s interested! There’s no need to doubt that. All you have to do is send him a text so he has your number. He’ll do the rest.” The line went silent for a few beats. A sigh sounded through the phone. “Want to wait until tomorrow night then?” She was referring to your girls’ night that was scheduled for the next evening. You couldn’t believe how quickly Saturday was approaching. That would be a good time, you agreed mentally, softly responding with an ‘okay’ into the receiver. A few more words were exchanged in an effort to plan before you hung up.

You were tasked with grabbing snacks, an errand you’d have to run today as you wouldn’t have time to tomorrow. You had an unavoidable shift scheduled for work tomorrow, which left you barely any time to get home, changed and to Eunwoo’s by 6pm. She’d planned to start the night early as possible so you would have plenty of time to do whatever the hell you wanted. That meant your day of lounging around in comfy clothes and having some time to yourself wasn’t going to go exactly as planned. At least you wouldn’t have to stray too far from home.

You changed your pants into something more suitable to be seen by the outside world and threw on a hoodie, slipping on some shoes while heading out the door. You placed your keys in your purse and set up your headphones. You didn’t mind the walk to the shops. It was only a few blocks away, allowing you to get lost in your music and be there before you knew it.

The weather wasn’t too cold, probably assisted by the walk, but you couldn’t see the sky. There was a grey blanket of clouds hiding the sun that was inching closer to the horizon. It somehow didn’t feel too dreary. The streets were lined with trees that still held their leaves, looking deceivingly as lush and green as ever. The buildings in the area weren’t all slate grey, having occasional pops of pink, blue and yellow to break up the dull metallics. The neighbourhood was modern and still had a bit of life to it. It cheered up the atmosphere of a rainy day with ease.

Like always, you had arrived at the small grocery store sooner than you’d expected to. The shop was on the corner, well-lit and was decorated with cute signage that invited customers to come inside. You walked in the door and into a random aisle so you could fish out your phone without getting in anyone else’s way. Eunwoo had sent you a shopping list of snacks she thought were ‘essential’ to any girls’ night. You were allowed to add to that list, too, of course. You knew most of the list would be on the sweet side, so it was a safe bet to make your way to the confectionary aisle.

You realised rather quickly you’d need a basket once you saw how long the itinerary-filled text was. As expected, baskets were located in convenient places all over the store, so you pick one up on your way through. You didn’t have many complaints as to what she picked. There was a snack for every craving category you could think of.

After grabbing everything, within reason, you went to grab some drinks. You made it to the end of the aisle and were still staring at your phone when you turned. That’s why you collided with someone. Before you looked up, you began apologising profusely. To be honest, you were too embarrassed to look up, hesitating to meet the person’s eyes. What if you met them again randomly. No one exactly wants to be known as ‘the girl that walked straight into me at the grocery store that one time’.

Once you realised it was inevitable, you finally looked up to find the beaming smile of none other than Kim Seungmin. You recognised him straight away but took a minute to register why. In your defence, you were still half asleep. Yes, at 4 in the afternoon. While you were buffering, Seungmin stabilised you, acknowledging the fact that it was you with a cheerful ‘fancy meeting you here’.

You explained to him that you lived a few blocks away. You were both surprised you hadn’t seen each other in that particular shop before, especially as you both frequented the place often. Seungmin mentioned how you should make your chimek nights a regular thing. The boys had really enjoyed your company, so he said. As he spoke, it was clear that he, and supposedly the other boys, were genuinely excited at the prospect of you spending more time hanging out with them. It was a nice feeling. His eyes lit up a moment later. He then put an idea to you. “We haven’t really planned out dinner, but would you like to come over again tonight? Everyone should be home.”

On any other day you’d accept the offer without a second thought, but with a full work day ahead and the little sleep you were bound to get at Eunwoo’s the next night weighing on your mind, you knew it’d be better to stay home like you planned.

“Thanks, Seungminnie, but I’ve got a big day tomorrow. Can’t risk lack of sleep or a hangover. If the next couple of days weren't so hectic, I'd definitely be saying yes right now, though. Rain check?” Knowing you meant what you'd said, he still made you pinky promise to it. Seungmin helped you with the rest of your shopping list and waited until you had both gone through the checkout before you parted ways.

The walk home seemed longer this time around. Maybe it was because part of you really wanted to turn on your heel and sprint after Seungmin, to take him up on his offer, but you knew you shouldn’t. You’d made the right call.

You made it to work on time for a 9am start, thanks to the good night’s sleep you somehow managed to get. The shift had been steady, with a few customers coming in every couple of hours and contributing to the day's targets. You were alone for the majority, with another girl coming in as lunch cover. You weren’t really close with her, only making small talk for the brief overlap of your shifts because you felt you had to.

2:15pm. You had been checking the clock every 3 minutes for the past half hour. You had only been alone for that long. There wasn’t much to do on a Saturday. All the stock had been unpacked the day before with no new shipments due until later in the next week.

You managed to occupy your time by going through your music library. Your work place was more relaxed when it came to atmospherics. As long as the music was family friendly, language-wise, and fit the vibe, you could play almost anything your heart desired. You weren’t usually in charge. You were either happy listening to what was already playing or just not the first person in that day, thus no control. That being said, it meant that all the work-safe songs were scattered in your library. You decided the best course of action was to make a playlist, and if you questioned whether or not you should add a song, you could play it out loud to see if it passed the test. You were enjoying yourself.

It was now 2:54pm, which you only knew from the incoming text you received from your manager. She had forgotten to mention she didn’t finish up “revamping” the faulty rack. That was her way of saying that there were new items to be added from out the back and to reorganise the rack accordingly. You’d usually complain, but you were pretty bored and creating the playlist was getting tedious. You didn’t realise how much of your music was NSFW.

You were returning from the store room and making your way towards the aforementioned rack behind the counter. That’s when your ears peaked upon hearing the distinct voice. The speaker was obstructed by the left side wall of the hallway you were walking up. No matter. You already knew it was Felix.

The boy was dressed casually in a colour block jumper with a pair of black trousers and some white shoes that resembled a pair you saw in target. He was unaccompanied, phone to his ear and running his hand through his blonde hair as he listened attentively to what was being said on the other side of the line.

A light-hearted sigh tumbled from his lips, spare hand pushing through the close on the rack. You weren’t sure if they were really his taste. His face scrunched up as he flipped through the hangers, but you couldn’t be certain if it was because he didn’t fancy any of the clothes in front of him.

He picked out a shirt, forcing it off the rack and straightening it out to examine it. He tilted his head, a while later humming in acknowledgement of the person he was conversing with. He tucked the shirt under his arm after he had finished his careful consideration, moving on to dig through more clothes. You watched, amused.

He had grabbed a second shirt, two jumpers and a pair of shorts as well as ended his phone call before he realised there were a set of eyes on him. There was a subtle hint of hesitation when he turned around. His gaze was adorably blank and sheepish when he turned, but it was like a light bulb switched on when he recognised your face. "Y/n! What are you doing here?"

The amount of genuine wonder that laced his tone was so sincere. He obviously hadn't noticed the lanyard around your neck and the unusually nice clothes you were wearing - okay, you sometimes wore nice clothes, but this didn't exactly scream your usual style. You thought there would be no harm in teasing him for his lack of observation, as well as his forgetfulness. You mentioned where you worked the night you all met. Then again, the mental image of a passed out Felix followed by his hungover state the next morning flashed through your mind. Oh well, it was Felix. From what you knew, he wouldn't mind too much.

"Oh, you know, just watching you being a fashionista and leaving a trail of destruction for me to clean up later." His face changed from confusion, to processing - once he noticed the lanyard - to realisation before settling on embarrassment. His cheeks were tinged pink as he uttered the next string of words, "Sorry, I wasn't really thinking," he rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you, "I was on the phone to Channie hyung and was so lost in thought and trying to multitask. I swear I'm not usually this careless- I mean, I have a lot of respect and understanding for retail workers-"

"Felix" He hadn't taken a breath and part of you swore his face was soon to turn blue. "I'm just teasing. I wasn't serious." You chuckled lightly as his nervous laughter, followed by a relieved sigh from the blonde. "I'm glad."

You made your way over, gesturing for him to give you his items of choice. You offered to set up a change room for him while he continued to browse the mens section. You pointed out he may have missed a few things since he was so wrapped up in his phone call. You left him to his own devices and started to begin work on the usual closing duties. There wasn't much you could do, since it was so early, but at least it gave you a head start on the end-of-day.

Some time later, he made his way to the change rooms. You let him be until he called out to you for assistance. "Okay, thoughts on this outfit...?" proceeding to emerged from the change room with the shorts and one of the jumpers from earlier, a different, collared top peeking through around the neckline and past the over-layer's hem. The idea was there, but the execution wasn't. The colours of the shirt and jumper not only didn't match but were different hues. Anyone with a basic knowledge of colour theory would be feeling sympathetic towards his attempt at styling.

"Usually I have Hyunjin or Seungmin to give me advice, but they're both working today and this is the only free time I had." You nodded slowly, mainly trying to think of the best way to let him down gently enough for him not to lose hope in his ability to do this by himself. The comment about the other boys was a clear indicator that he usually doubted himself. Any other colour scheme and it would've looked great.

"Honestly, you have a good sense of style," You proceeded, worried his face would light up before you got to your constructive criticism, "but the colouring of the top half doesn't work. It also doesn't really compliment your skin tone." You looked up, gaging his response. He nodded thoughtfully. He spoke again.

"Do you think any of these would suit me?" He moved aside so you could peer into the change room. You scanned the options and managed to put together an outfit, however, you had something else in mind. "Okay. Before I do anything, what is this outfit for?" You looked to him. It went unspoken that the occasion influenced the styling choice you both had to make. You almost thought he hesitated before he spoke, ”It's for a party, but it's slightly on the nicer side." I thoughtful hum slipped past your lips. “So, are you thinking of something that looked kind of effortless but still looks really good?" He smiled at how well you understood him, "Precisely."

You gestured to the initial outfit you came up with from his chosen items, "try that on as a 'fit while i work on something. I have an idea and I think it'll really suit you." Without a moment wasted, you turned on your heel and went back out onto the floor to dig up a few things you had noted earlier. To your delight, no one else had come in. You could fully focus on your 'help Felix with styling' mission.

You returned with two similar concepts in mind, but completely different colour palettes. As you rounded the corner to the change rooms, Felix emerged in a timely fashion, decked out in the first possible outfit. It was very Felix but still had a clear theme in terms of colour. He stood in a blue turtleneck with the black pants he walked in with and his white shoes. He accessorised with the his beanie he must’ve bought elsewhere, it conveniently being a similar shade of blue.

"What do you think?" His arms spread wide to showing off the look inspired by his own taste. It was a good start, but you thought he could do better. So, you told him just that. With a quick nod and a grin, the boy took the next set from your hands and disappeared behind the curtin. You could tell he was already regaining his confidence. All he needed was a push in the right direction.

Felix returned a short while later. He looked into the mirror at the outfit while you spoke, "Okay, so this one isn't your usual style but I thought it suited your skin tone a lot better than your first outfit." He nodded again. He stared awhile longer. When he looked back to you, it was obvious you agreed. "It's really cool, but-"

"-it's way too put together to look effortless." You finished his sentence, receiving a hum from the boy, which most likely was along the lines of couldn't agree more. "Honestly, I'm kind of happy because this one already had my vote to begin with." The genuine excitement in your voice made him laugh lightly. He traded the other garments for those strung over your arm. You fixed up the pieces on their hangers while you waited.

Felix practically sauntered out of the change room, confidence radiating off of his body now. He looked good, you had to admit. Felix wore the plain white tee he already had on prior to the fashion escapade. It was fitted beautifully to his chest and peaked out teasingly from beneath the blue and black sports jacket. The positioning on his shoulders along with its length was just right. The denim jeans were a new addition, rounding out the outfit. His hair still slightly messy from the beanie, yet smoothed out moments earlier with the palms of his hands. Every element worked in harmoniously, and the way he pulled off the colour story, effortless. You did good, Y/n. The whole look was perfect, fitting the brief, and you had to admit, he looked pretty hot. "I know I don't need to say it, but this wins hands down." He smirked. This bitch knew he looked good.

Once he was back in his original attire, Felix rejoined you at the checkout. The total cost was slightly more than what what he had in his budget, but you didn't mind bending the rules for a friend. You applied your discount, to which he thanked you profusely, and sat back while the system processed what he had paid. You bagged his newly acquired sports jacket and jeans, tossing in the receipt, "if you want, you can even try it with a pair of black shoes. I reckon it'd look even better." You smiled.

He returned it, "Thanks for all your help, Y/n. Sorry for taking up so much of your time." You hadn't even glanced at the time since Felix had come in. You almost squealed when you noticed it was already 4:16pm. 14 minutes until closing. "No, thank YOU, Felix. I swear I was dying at how slow the shift was going. Besides, I had a lot of fun." His grin widened but faulted, startled when his phone began to ring. "I better go but I'll see you soon, hopefully. Thanks again!" He gave you a half-hearted wave while he answered the call. He walked out the doors, turning the corner and was instantly out of view.

Apart from the two Asian aunties perusing the sale jewellery, the floor was dead. It was now 4:19pm. You could start the end-of-day routine. You figured out that if you timed it right, you could have the floors vacuumed, tills counted and the place all locked up by 4:37pm. You sprung into action, happily reminiscing on what was obviously the highlight of you shift and enjoyed the lull of music that was still playing.

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cilldaracailin · 4 years

Text

A Kind Of Magic

Hey everyone! Apologies for not posting yesterday. Bit mad with getting back to work and getting caught up on paperwork. But I am back with some more and I will add two updates this evening for all you lovely people! :)

“The only way you can get to know each other is by hanging out.”

“So, you up for a little adventure this evening?” Asked Robyn as they cleaned up after dinner.

Taron stopped washing the empty pyrex dish that had previously been filled with lasagne, bubbles up to his elbows. “What kind of an adventure?”

“Well Wednesday evenings are normally my choir evenings. You want to come with me?” Robyn picked up the clean pyrex dish and started to dry it. “You don’t have to. You are more than welcome to stay here and re-arrange more of my shelves.” Robyn came home from work that day to her bookshelf completely re-organised, Taron finding something else to keep himself occupied in her home, the books now in descending order of height while in their respective collections. When she had walked into her closet to change, Taron had also changed her shoes around so the converse no longer matched, each shoe paired with a different coloured one. “Just thought you might like to come along, sit at the back and listen to what we sing.”

“I would very much like to come along, if that’s ok.”

“Of course it is.”

“Then yes please, I would love to come with you. I’ll happily sit at the back.”

When they arrived at the church, Robyn let Taron pick his seat at the back of the pews while she quickly explained to the choir director that she had a friend visiting and he was going to sit and listen while they rehearsed. He had insisted on wearing his hat again and Robyn made him wear a hoodie too.

“Even with the heat, the church can get cold.” She had said when he questioned it. “And it’s not as warm as it has been.”

Taron watched as the choir warmed up, Robyn lost in all the heads in the alto section, glad she had made him take his hoodie with him, a big difference in the temperature between inside and outside the church. Being immersed in the sound of music from the choir as they practised, Taron felt somewhat at home enjoying how easily the choir director taught her choir, taking time to answer any questions and ensure each section knew their notes and when every section sang together, they came together perfectly. It brought back wonderful memories of being in a choir as a kid.

During their break, Robyn made her way down to him, sitting beside him. “So, you bored yet?”

“Nope. I am very much enjoying myself. Your choir works so well together. The harmonies are beautiful.”

“Why thank you.”

“Can I join?”

“Actually, we are in that period where new members are welcome, so if you want too, I can put in a good word. I mean, I am an original member. I can pull some strings.”

Taron smiled a little. “I think I will stay back here. Don’t want to draw too much attention to myself.”

“Might be a bit late. People are wondering who you are and why you are sitting here all by yourself but don’t worry, I have your cover story sorted.”

“I am afraid to ask.”

“Don’t look so worried. I told them the truth. That you are my friend who has come to visit me and to save my shelves from being further re-organised I dragged you to choir with me.”

Taron chuckled. “I don’t think you have many more shelves I can re-organise.”

She smiled. “I am sure you will find something.” She looked up to the altar as the quick five-minute break ended. “Of the songs that you know we sing, which one would you like us to sing for you?” She took in his confused look. “Maddie wants to put on a little show for you but without everyone knowing why we are doing it. So, we can practise a song of your choosing but they won’t know you chose it so you stay a secret of sorts and I have no idea if any of that made any sense to you so just pick a song for me.”

Taron chuckled. “Well I would love to make you sing your favourite Queen song but I have already seen you preform that one so…” He thought for a moment. “I want to hear Everybody Hurts.” He enjoyed the smile on her face. “You told me that one is beautiful so, yeah that one please.”

“Okie dokie.”

Taron smiled as he watched Robyn almost skip away from him completely in her element as she spoke to Maddie the director, giving him a little sweet smile and wink when she was done, his smile growing wider.

Taron knew he had made the right decision with his suggestion and closed his eyes, taking in every note and sound as Kilcreen’s gospel choir sang the most beautiful rendition of R.E.M’s Everybody Hurts. Robyn had talked about the choir with him as they sat outside in the garden during the weekend and it was an audition free, anyone can join choir who had recorded three albums with three famous Irish singers and bands including Oscar winner Glen Hansard. Taron loved the concept behind the gospel choir, Robyn calling it her second family and their sound was stunning and when they had finished, he found himself on his feet clapping, spotting Robyn in the group grinning at him.

“Incredible.” He called out, tipping his hat to them.

The rehearsal ended and Robyn quickly made her way down to Taron, a wide smile on her face. “Not our first standing ovation but thank you very much.” She said to him. “Ready to go?”

“You don’t want to say goodbye to your friends?”

“You want to answer all the questions they have about who you are? Lots of Elton John fans in here.”

“Right so, let’s go.”

As much as Taron had enjoyed the impromptu performance Robyn had set up for him, he wasn’t ready to be subjected to an onslaught of questions and quickly followed Robyn out of the church and to her car.

“Thanks for this. I like seeing what you get up to.”

“This is about the height of it.” Replied Robyn as she drove them back.

“And good call for the hoodie. The church was a little chilly.”

She smiled. “Weathers supposed to change from tomorrow. No more sitting out in the garden sunning ourselves.”

“I am really going to have to work hard to re-arrange your house tomorrow now that I won’t be able to sit outside.”

Instead of re-arranging Robyn’s shelves on Thursday, Taron spend the day dozing on her couch, feeling tired after a bad night’s sleep. He had no particular reason for his bad nights sleep, putting it down to the two cups of coffee he drank before he went to bed and also the fact that he had been getting a substantial amount of sleep and his body was probably fed up of sleeping. No nightmares, no more pain than usual, just a terrible night’s sleep.

The weather men had gotten it right and the glorious sunshine had turned to dark grey clouds and sheets of endless rain, the temperature dropping right down to the very low teens. Taron had found himself in his jeans for the first time since he had arrived in Robyn’s house and it was also the first time he hadn’t needed the air conditioning. He had kept to the couch watching day time TV catching up with Robyn and her morning at work when she came home for lunch.

“How is Beth?” He asked as they sat at the breakfast bar, eating a toasting sandwich which Robyn had quickly made on a frying pan.

“Terribly disappointed you never turned up for snack on Monday!” Laughed Robyn. “You are her favourite new friend and she used that word not me and she has also been telling all the other children that you like my hugs too.”

Taron grinned. “Well you shouldn’t lie to children and I didn’t. I like your hugs. Beth has good taste.”

“What are your plans for the afternoon?” She asked as she cleared away her plate, Taron still drinking his tea. “Figure out what shelves you want to work on yet?”

“I think I am going to stick to the couch this afternoon. I didn’t sleep too well last night. Might watch another one of your DVD’s.”

“You feeling ok?” She asked as she stood beside him, her hand going to his forehead to check his temperature.”

“Don’t be worrying Robyn.” He said as he took her hand away from his head. “Just a bad night’s sleep. Nothing to do with what happened to us.”

Taron had dropped his body onto the length of the couch his head in the corner when Robyn went back to work and the rain that battered the glass doors of the room was almost soothing to him. He snuggled deep into the teddy bear throw that had made an appearance when Robyn pulled it out for him so he would be comfortable, warm and cosy before she left him alone and closing his eyes, Taron curled up onto his left side, sleep quickly finding him.

When he woke Robyn was sitting next to him with ear phone in her ears and her glasses perched on her nose. Her face was fully focused on the laptop screen in front of her but she saw his slight movement and looked down to him.

“You really did have a shit nights sleep, didn’t you?” Commented Robyn as she pulled the ear phones out. When she arrived home from work, Taron was wrapped up in her favourite throw, looking adorable as he slept. Trying not to disturb him, she set up her laptop on her knees beside him, listening to music as she worked. He woke up about half an hour after she sat down.

“Just happens sometimes.” He answered her. “What time is it?”

“Just after five.”

Taron nuzzled further into the soft blanket around him. “Least it wasn’t another mammoth sleep. Only two hours. I like this blanket.”

“Good for chilly, rainy days. How does pasta bake sound for dinner?”

“Really good. What are you doing?” He moved a little so he could see the screen of the laptop. “ACE’s?”

“Just researching some online training for the staff. Adverse Childhood Experiences.” She explained. “How trauma and upsetting experiences affect a child’s development. Not pretty stuff but unfortunately has to be done.”

“I never really thought about the unpleasant aspects of your job.”

“We shall not then mention the repulsive subject of child protection.”

Taron looked up to her. “Robyn have you…”

“Not that I could talk about it, confidentially and all that, but no, thank God.”

“There is so much more to what you do than just caring for children.”

“Yep but not everyone understands that Taron. I think the term glorified babysitters has been thrown around a lot. Ignorant people who have no idea of the importance of the role of early years educators in a child’s life but anyway moving on. I see none of my shelves have been changed today.”

“I have literally spent my day wrapped up on the couch.”

“Well that’s what happens when you spend your night tossing and turning.”

“Ahh shit did I keep you awake?”

“Even in a queen size bed, one can feel the other moving around.” She looked down to Taron and picked her phone up from beside her. “Don’t be worrying.”

“You are the one going to work every day. You need your sleep.” Replied Taron, his voice muffled as his face was half buried in the throw.

“I have gotten my payback.”

“What? How?” He lifted his head to look at her and groaned when she showed him the picture she had just taken of him, cuddled into the grey and white fleece under him.

“Definitely being added to the wall.”

Friday before lunch, Robyn left work for an hour to bring Taron back to the doctors so he could get his stitches out and the two steri-strips on his forehead were replaced with just one, Doctor Greene instructing Taron to keep resting up and he would be fully recovered in no time.

While Robyn finished her shift at work on Friday afternoon, Taron returned phone calls from missed messages and voicemails to his friends and other family members as well as Lyndsey, this time feeling much better about his conversation with his publicist, finding it easier to talk about what had happened in more detail with those he had yet to speak to.

Robyn strolled into the apartment at four thirty and almost threw herself on the couch.

“Friday!” She sighed happily. “My favourite day.”

“End of the week.” Confirmed Taron. He was sitting on what he now called ‘his couch’ reading one of Robyn’s books. “I have been here for a whole week.” He said quietly.

Robyn titled her head back to look at him but as he was upside down to her, she turned over and sat beside him. “A whole week.” She repeated.

The television was on in the background, adverts on in-between the afternoon entertainment. “I really want to go and see that movie.”

“Sorry what?” Robyn was confused by Taron’s sudden change in conversation topic.

“That new Tom Hanks movie. I would really like to go and see it. In the cinema.”

“Well why don’t you?” She asked holding her hands up to Taron as he gave her his best scowl. “Ok I guess I am missing something here.”

“I usually don’t just walk into a full movie theatre unless it is for an event. Not now anyway. It’s awkward when someone realises who I am, gets a bit uncomfortable.”

“Ok well why don’t we try a late showing here?”

“Here? Your projector?”

“Taron. I am a low-key supervisor and have one, no wait, two celebrity friends. You and Richard.” She said when he looked confused. “I don’t have home access to new release movies but…” Robyn pulled her phone from her trousers pocket. “Normally late late showings here are quiet. Here as in the nearest cinema to me, not here as in my house. About a fifteen-minute drive away. I went to a showing at midnight before and I was the only one there.”

Taron watched as Robyn pulled up the cinema screens near her and checked out the times of the movie. “There is a showing at eleven thirty.”

“As in tonight?”

“Yep and there are only three seats booked. Rest of them are empty.” She looked to Taron. “You up for the movies tonight?” She sensed his hesitation. “Tell you what. Let’s keep an eye on the bookings, see if any more seats fill up and if it stays quiet and we can nab two seats at the back, you want to go?”

“Seriously?”

“Yeah sure why not? We don’t have anything else planned, do we? And it’s the weekend and as we discussed last week, Saturdays are for lie ins.”

Taron pulled Robyn close and kissed her right temple. “You are a bloody genius.”

Laughing Robyn looked to him. “I guess that is a yes then?”

“If it stays somewhat quiet, yes I would absolutely love to go and see that movie. It has been so long since I have been to a movie for the joy of going to a movie and not for a press event.”

Seven hours later, Robyn and Taron were sitting in the back row of screen four in her local Vue cinema, one large popcorn between then, Robyn suppling the chocolate m&m’s to go with it.

“Have I told you that you are a genius?” He asked pulling his hat off as the lights dimmed for the start of the trailers and placing it in the empty seat to his right.

“One can never hear enough times that they are a genius!”

Robyn had checked the remaining seats again just after nine and seeing that only seven seats were taken, Taron was happy for her to go ahead and book two for them, right in the middle of the back row. They had chosen a perfect time to arrive as the cinema was practically empty, the queue for popcorn non-existent and as they made their way into screen four, they missed the crowds leaving the other screens.

“This is perfect.” Taron moved so he was more comfortable, Robyn’s shoulders turned towards him as she sat with her left leg crossed over her right. “Only you could get me to the cinema in stealth mode.”

Robyn laughed. “Stealth mode. Seriously Taron? It’s a late late night showing. Most people come to the cinema after work and then head home.”

“This is brilliant.” He said, moving again so his body position didn’t twinge, giving Robyn the popcorn until he was settled.

“Use your coat, if you need to make a sort of cushion for your side.”

The weather was still terrible, rain falling lightly as they left the parked car, Taron finally getting use for the clothes Richard had bought for him, including a dark navy coat.

“No, I am good. Just need to move a little. I will have that back now.” He said taking the popcorn from her.

“Sharing is caring.” She returned, grabbing a handful from the top of the carton, throwing one at him.

“I bought it.” He said taking some for himself.

Robyn scoffed at him. “Really? That’s what it has come too? You wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for my genius.”

“Ok yeah that’s true.” Taron placed the popcorn between them. “Thanks for this Robyn.”

“Anytime.”

Their movie night had been a complete success and Taron was delighted with his McFlurry afterwards on the way home as Robyn pulled into a twenty-four-hour McDonalds for a late-night desert snack, as well as their sing along to The Greatest Showman in the car on the way home.

Robyn jumped a little as Taron hugged her from behind as she unlocked the house when they arrived home just after two am. “You are probably sick of me saying this, but thank you Robyn.”

She grinned and duck walked into the hallway as Taron was still hugged her, struggling a little to turn off the alarm. “If I promise to do it again will you let me go before the alarm goes off and I wake the neighbours?” Taron dropped his hands, giving Robyn the freedom she needed to get the alarm off in the last three warning beeps. “So tomorrow, you want to make that rainbow cake and maybe try that little café I told you about for breakfast?”

She didn’t need an answer, the smile in his eyes that she saw as she turned on some lights was a good enough answer for her.

They took their seats at the back of the café, just after eleven am the next morning, Robyn asking if they could have the quieter table at the back.

“This is a busy little place.” Taron buried his head a little into the menu in his hands.

“We can go Taron, if it’s too busy for you. I don’t mind.” Robyn knew the café she had brought him too was quite popular for breakfast on Saturday mornings and explained to Taron that it would be, but he had put his hat on and insisted they go. “We can even get the food to go.”

“No way. You promised me this hash thing was the best breakfast, so I am having it and I am having it here. So, which one is it?” Although the town where Robyn lived was an active little town, it was a quiet town and as he scanned the menu, he quickly saw that not one of the other customers were paying attention their way, even after Robyn had said hello to some of them on her way in. It made him feel a lot more comfortable and he lifted his hat a little as the waitress came their way.

“So, what can I get you?” She asked.

“I am going to have your bacon hash without the chorizo and a cappuccino please.” Said Robyn, not even looking at the menu.

“I will have the same but with the chorizo please.” Confirmed Taron.

“No worries. I will bring the coffees over in a minute.”

“Thanks.”

“Coffee Robyn?” Asked Taron. “Not like you.”

“I have a feeling I am going to need the caffeine today if we are going to make this cake.”

Taron grinned. “I am very much looking forward to making this cake.”

“I know, that’s why I need the coffee.”

“I promise I won’t do anything I am not supposed too.”

“And I would believe you, if you were not giving me that Taron look.”

“Taron look?” He questioned.

“The one where you look like you are about to get up to mischief. I have seen it a few times since you have been with me, especially when you are planning something, or have done something you really aren’t meant too.”

“Like re-organise your bathroom?”

“Like re-organise my bathroom.”

Taron had taken the shower first that morning and when Robyn went to take her turn, she naturally reached for her shampoo which was always on her left-hand side but instead she used her shower gel in her hair. Taron had swapped all her toiletries around and Robyn only noticed when she actually looked at the bottles, feeling confused as to why her hair wasn’t lathering up. She wasn’t mad at Taron but did throw one of her cushions at him when she came out of the bathroom when he questioned what took her so long.

“I am trying to think of what else is in my home that you can change.” She smiled. “I am glad I am opening the creche again next week though. Maybe you could have some extra-long sleep in’s so you are only awake from let’s say two pm onwards? Then you only have two hours to fill before I come home.”

Taron chuckled as the waitress bought their coffees over. “Thank you.” They both said to her, Robyn reaching for some sugar as the same time as Taron did, their hands hitting each other.

“Shit sorry Robyn. You go ahead.” Taron pulled his hands back, letting Robyn take some sugar first. “And I mean, change is good right?” Taron took his sugar once Robyn had hers. “And having your plates beside your oven makes no sense. They should be right beside the sink.”

Robyn stopped mid sip. “Excuse you?”

“Your cupboards. They need a good change up too!” Taron innocently took a drink of his cup. “Hmm good coffee.” He was very much enjoying the look on Robyn’s face.

“Taron Egerton, you even think about switching my presses around, you will be out on your ear!”

It was another one of those laughs, that brought the best giggles through him, Taron having to put his cup down as he wiped his eyes, the serious look on Robyn’s normally happy face priceless. It was only the waitress bringing them their breakfast that saved Taron from another fierce look from the woman sitting opposite him.

“Eat your breakfast.” She said to him, but a smile filled her lips as she broke one of the eggs on her plate with her knife.

Taron did, looking to Robyn as he took his first bite. “Oh my God.” He tucked again. “Jesus this is good.”

“Told you.”

Chat flowed easily between the two, as it always did and Taron had to put his foot down, when Robyn wanted to pay after they had finished and he got his card to the man at the cash register first.

“My treat.” Said Taron as he tapped his card on the machine.

“It was meant to be my treat.” Pouted Robyn as they left the café.

“You have already treated me enough. My turn. Now onward to get surprises for cake!”

Taron linked his arm with hers and dragged her gently down the footpath and back towards where she had parked her car. Kilcreen was small and easy to walk around, so Robyn chose to park in the carpark of the large supermarket, only a few minutes’ walk away from the café and it meant they could easily walk into the supermarket and buy the ingredients for the cake Taron was desperate to make. Robyn knew it was going to be a very interesting afternoon as Taron’s giddiness almost doubled with the prospect of finally getting to bake the rainbow cake.

#Taron Egerton #Taron Egerton Fanfiction #Taron Egerton Fanfic #Taron Fanfic #Friendship #Love #Feeling at Home #Food #Singing and Music #Choir Family #Trust #Loyalty #Fun and Laughter

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azulaahai · 5 years

Text

take me to church (1/?) - a jon x sansa fake dating au

”Ask him! What’s the harm? He can just hang out with you and dry your tears. We know you think he looks good in a tux…” Only Margaery could sound both suggestive and innocent at the same time.

”That was one time! And it was Robb’s wedding! I was emotionally vulnerable!”

Or: Receiving an invitation to the wedding between her former friend and her former boyfriend, Sansa Stark must ask her boss Jon Snow to be her fake date.

Title, of course, from the Hozier song.

Haven't written fic in ages and I feel rusty af, this is rather messy but whoomp, here it is, a good old fake dating AU.

read chapter 1 under the cut or on ao3

* * *

The wedding invitation arrives on a rainy Thursday.

”Hello?” Sansa calls out as she painstakingly closes her apartment door with her foot, carrying three bags of groceries. ”Arya? Marg?”

Thursday is family dinner night, and it’s Sansa’s turn to host this week. Margaery and Arya were sweet enough to offer to come help her prepare, and she can her them now in her living room, the sound of their chatter dulled by the smattering of rain against the windows. They must have let themselves in with Arya’s key.

”Hi guys”, Sansa says as she passes by the sofa, where her sister and sister-in-law are sitting.

”Hi, Sans”, they chant almost in unison, and Sansa rolls her eyes. Marg and Arya get along very well. It’s both endearing, irritating and terrifying.

”Need some help with that?” Arya calls out after her as she enters the kitchen, putting down the bags on the counter with a relieved sigh.

”No, I’m fine”, she calls back. ”We made tea.” It’s Margaery this time.

”Great, thanks.” Sansa pours herself a cup from the kettle, tying her rain-dampened hair up in a tight bun before going back to the living room, tea cup in hand. She stops in the doorway. It’s such a sweet picture, Arya and Margaery curled up on her sofa, and Sansa is struck by a wave of affection for them. Her sisters. Her sentimentality makes it take her a moment to notice how strange they’re acting; both Arya and Margaery regard her with awkward expressions, and they’re unusually quiet.

”What?” Sansa says, sipping her tea. ”What’s the matter, weirdos?”

They look at her sheepishly from the sofa, before exchanging a cryptic glance. Neither of them responds.

”One of you better pipe up”, Sansa warns, lowering her cup, her eyes narrowing. ”If you fucking broke something in my apartment again …”

”We didn’t break anything”, Margaery assures her, still not yielding any additional information.

”But something of yours might still be broken very soon”, Arya mutters, causing Margaery to elbow her in the side.

”I swear to god, if none of you tell me what -”

”Okay, okay!” Arya finally says. ”Uhm … This came for you. In the mail.” Arya bends down and picks up what seems to be a card of some sort from the floor, handing it to Sansa. Reading what it says, Sansa can physically feel herself grow pale. She hates herself for reacting, but fuck if the words don’t hit her like a punch.

You are invited to the wedding between Myranda Royce and Harry Hardyng …

Sansa swallows. One, two, three times. She stares at the card, not wanting to meet Arya’s or Margaery’s eyes, though she can feel them upon her.

”You opened it?” she whispers.

”It was my fault”, Margaery immediately says. ”I’d … well, we saw it was a wedding invitation, and I had sort of heard some rumors, so I kind of … we kind of knew what … I’m sorry. Did we overstep?”

Sansa’s vision is blurred and she blinks. She can’t fucking cry over Harry Hardyng. That’s very ’last year’ of her.

”It’s alright. It’s not a big deal. I’m not going.” Sansa’s tone is clear and her voice stable. She definitely does not at all feel like crying anymore. Nah. Absolutely not.

”Of course you are going, you fucking idiot!” Arya exclaims, unapologetically stuffing some of Sansa’s fancy, treat-yourself-you’re-on-your-period chocolate that Sansa hadn’t realised that Arya had taken out of the cupboard into her mouth. Margaery unsurprisingly speaks up in agreement with Arya.

”Totally, Sans. It’s the perfect opportunity to show everyone how you’re the bigger person and completely cool and over the situation.” Arya nods at that and hands Marg a piece of chocolate, that Marg accepts. Sansa is going to kill them. But later. When her head stops spinning and she doesn’t feel like she just got punched. The wedding between Myranda Royce and Harry Hardyng …

It takes her a moment to gather herself enough to reply in a nonchalant tone.

”Being obviously single at the wedding of my former friend and my former boyfriend? Thanks, but no thanks.” Sansa suddenly wants comfort, wants hugs and gentleness. She wishes at least one of them would have gone with the ’poor you, I’ll do anything to console you’ approach rather than this ’we’ll give you bad advice’ circus.

”Ask someone to go with you!” says Margaery, excitement glimmering in her doe eyes, her earlier ashamed tone now long gone. ”Think about it. How often do you have such an amazing opportunity to not only show two people who have fucked you over that you’re doing so much better without them, but also by doing so somewhat ruin what is supposed to be the happiest day of their life?”

”But I’m not doing so much better without them”, Sansa says in a low voice. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic, chants an unhelpful voice in the back of her head. ”And you know I’m not the revenge type, really. Plus, even if I went with a date - in theory!” she adds as Arya and Marg begin cheering in the sofa, ”I’d be an emotional wreck all weekend. I couldn’t make someone come be my date for a boring ass wedding and watch me slowly die inside for two days.”

”Oh my god”, says Margaery, clearly undeterred by Sansa’s somber speech, practically bouncing in the sofa, ”you should ask Jon!”

Arya’s eyes go wide and a wicked grin spreads across her face. Sansa can already tell she is screwed.

”Margaery Tyrell. You are a motherfucking genius!” Arya all but yells.

”I can’t ask Jon!” Sansa says with desparation in her voice, panic rising within her at the mere thought. God. The idea of attending this wedding is already making her physically sick. To go with Jon would basically be emotional suicide. They might as well take her to the insane asylum straight away. Or the morgue.

”Why not?” Marg says. ”He’s an appropriate age, he’s cute as hell, you know him well so it won’t be weird, we know he’s a good guy so he could just do it as a favor, a platonic thing …”

”He’s my boss, Marg.”

”Oh please!” Arya chimes in. ”He’s a café owner and you manage his café. It’s not really as risqué as you make it sound.”

”I wasn’t making it sound risqué!” Sansa squeaks. She acutely regrets getting out of bed this morning. Or at all, ever.

”Plus, we’ve known him for years before he was your boss. It’s not even weird”, Arya says, sounding smug.

”That was one time! And it was Robb’s wedding! I was emotionally vulnerable!” Sansa protests.

”We did have a great wedding”, Marg says with a soft sigh.

”Stop talking about your fucking wedding”, Arya groans from the sofa, burrying her head in one of Sansa’s embroidered pillows. ”We know you had the best wedding and all that. We were there, Marg. You married our fucking brother. It was awesome. We get it.”

”Thanks, Arya”, Sansa says pointedly. ”Maybe we should stop talking about weddings altogether.”

”Not until you agree to take Jon to this one!” Arya says, looking up at her again. ”It’s the perfect plan, Sans.”

”Perfect”, Margs agrees. They’re scary as hell when they gang up on her, Sansa has to admit. She has a terrible feeling that they planned this, that this ’oh, take Jon as your date!’ idea wasn’t as spontaneous as was presented.

It’s as if she’s in a nightmare. Or in hell. Hey, guess what? Harry’s getting married! Yeah, your ex boyfriend who is somehow still a sensitive subject for you! Who is he marrying you ask? Right, that would be your former friend who’s been dating him for, like, half the amount of time that you dated him for! And oh, did I forget to mention? You’ll now be pressured into going to the wedding with your inexplicably attractive boss as your date! Have fun, asshat!

”I’ll think about it”, Sansa says, mainly to buy herself some time.

”You can ask him tonight”, Arya says innocently.

”I can ask him when now?”

”He’s coming tonight, didn’t you hear?” Margaery says, in a tone far too blasé to be authentic. ”Robb invited him.”

”To family dinner? In my apartment?”

”Relax! He’s basically part of the family”, Arya says, indignant. ”Plus, it’s not like we’re strict on the ’just Starks’ rule. Margaery’s here, after all -”

”Hey, I married Robb, for fucks sake! I’m part of this family by law.”

”- and Gendry’s coming, so I don’t see what’s the big.”

”Gendry’s coming!?” Sansa shrieks.

* *

Sansa splashes some cold water in her face, meeting her own gaze in the bathroom mirror. She looks tired, but not heartbroken. Rather well, considering the current circumstances - ready to greet the unexpected amount of guests that is going to be showing up any minute now. She’s taken respite in the bathroom for a few blissful minutes of solitude.

Margaery and Arya have been unusually kind to her all day after the wedding date discussion. Out of care for her feelings or out of guilt for pressuring Sansa earlier, Sansa can’t tell, but it’s been rather welcome in her fragile state. Arya even gave her a long, warm hug before the cooking frenzy began, and that’s rather rare.

Then again, Sansa knows how worried they all were for her during the Harry Hardyng circus. It had been her first real, grown up heartbreak, Harry telling her ’this wasn’t working anymore’ after two years together, and tears and grief had followed. She’d moved past that after a couple of months, but still, Harry had been the type of ex that you’re not quite finished with, the kind who’s still in the back of your mind, the kind you secretly harbor hopes of reunion for. It wasn’t until Myranda Royce, her friend from work, told Sansa she ’wanted to talk to her about something’, and revealed that she and Harry had started dating, that Sansa realized just how much she had counted on one day getting back together with Harry, and the blow was a hard one. The revelation unfortunately coincided with the ten year anniversary of her parents’ deaths, and the emotional toll sent Sansa rather far down a black hole. She quit her job, and had trouble finding a new one.

If Jon Snow hadn’t offered her a manager position in his café, Sansa isn’t sure where she’d be. He wasn’t perhaps her knight in shining armor, but that first day she was so utterly grateful to have him just be her boss in a black apron, showing her how the espresso machine worked.

So Margaery and Arya’s suggestion of Jon Snow being the one to save her from the curse of Harry Hardyng once and for all by accompanying her to his - barf - wedding was more poetic than they perhaps realised. Full circle, in a way. Jon saved Sansa once from the Harry Hardyng hole, and he might save her once more. She rolls her eyes at herself in the mirror. It’s a crazy idea, made up by crazy people, she reminds herself. But she can’t stop herself from picturing how it would be, pulling up to the wedding with Jon Snow in tow, not sitting by herself amidst strangers pathetically fighting back tears over her lost future with Harry fucking Hardyng, but rather on a fun weekend getaway with her (fake, but nobody needs to know that) boyfriend.

Plus, she knows something that Arya and Margaery doesn’t; Harry was always a little intimidated by Jon. Got jealous when he was around. It’s petty and juvenile and stupid and probably completely inaccurate, but some part of Sansa is convinced that some part of Harry would still hate to see her dating Jon Snow of all people.

Her embarrassing line of thought is broken by the sound of the doorbell.

They’re here.

* * *

”Uhm, Jon?” Sansa says, clearing her throat.

They’re by themselves in the hallway after dinner, and Sansa has a sneaking suspicion that Arya and Margaery might have planned it that way. Arya and Gendry loudly joking with Robb in the kitchen while doing the dishes, Margaery entertaining Bran and Rickon in the living room, Sansa is alone in saying goodbye to Jon in the hallway. Dinner was a success, to her surprise; she’s tired, but not in an unpleasant way. Today’s not been as bad as it could have been. Family dinner nights are always nice, and she needed one today. Sansa’s had a glass or two of wine which might be impacting her decision making, but she’s really about to ask her boss something completely unprofessional.

”Yeah?” Jon looks at her with piercing grey eyes, and Sansa feels herself blush. It’s strange - even with him and Robb being thick as thieves since kindergarten, even with him having been around her forever, even having worked for him for almost a year, Sansa still feels a little unsettled being alone with Jon. Not in a creepy sense - but he’s just never been as open and familial with her as he is with the rest of her siblings, they’ve never been as comfortable around each other. Suddenly, to suggest to Jon Snow that they spend intimate one on one time together seems like a rather bad idea. Sansa swallows. It feels too late to back out now.

”Would you consider doing me a huge favor?” Hm. It sounds rather shady when she says it like that. Like the ’favor’ she’s about to ask is that he store a ton of cocaine for her for a while.

”I’d consider it”, he says, and his eyes sparkle with amusement. ”What’s -”

He’s cut off by Robb entering the hallway, asking Jon if he wants to take some leftovers home with him. For a second, Sansa could swear Jon’s eyes linger on her even as he answers Robb, but the moment passes quickly and afterwards she’s sure she imagined it. When Robb returns to the kitchen to indeed fetch Jon some leftovers, Jon looks rather confused when Sansa remains silent.

”You were saying?”, he says, in that low, gentle tone of his.

”I … nevermind”, she says, shooting him what feels like a weird smile as Robb once more steps into the room. Saved by the bell, or rather, the brother. Yet she feels strangely disappointed. ”We’ll talk tomorrow, perhaps.”

”Right, tomorrow.” They do café paperwork for an hour or two on Fridays. ”You’re on, Stark.”

As Jon says his goodbyes in the living room, as he gives Sansa a short side hug while mumbling something about her ’delicious dinner’ in her ear, sending a pleasant shiver up her spine that Sansa chooses to surpress and ignore and lock away in a cupboard, as he steps out the door, as she’s left alone with a somewhat confused-looking Robb in the hallway, that one word still echoes around her head.

Tomorrow.

#jonsa #actuallyjonsa #jon x sansa #jonsa fic #my fic #sdkjglksjlkgjlkdjfg #haven't posted anything in ages #and this feels like it's shit #but it's fun to be somewhat back in buisness y'all #god I need sleep lmao

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yehet-me-up · 5 years

Text

Enchanting

Pairing: Mingyu x trans guy!reader

Genre: fluff, coffee shop AU (I cannot believe it is 2k19 and I haven’t done a coffee shop yet, it’s about time!)

Word Count: 1,746

Request: Would it be alright if you did a friends to lovers drabble with Mingyu or Chanyeol and a trans guy reader? Hello sweet bean! Your wish is my command, I so hope you enjoy this <3

It's cold and rainy and disgusting the day you meet him.

The city seems to know you're new in town and unsure of yourself. Any other day and you'd delight in the gentle fall of rain, smearing the edges of the city and surrounding you with the soft sound of cleansing and renewal.

But today, you're stressed; and the entire world seems to know it.

The bus was ten minutes late and you had to walk into your very first college class looking like a hot, frazzled mess. A car drove by and splashed frigid water onto your brand new boots in the afternoon. Your binder refuses to stop itching and you'd murder someone for a decent cup of coffee.

The entire world feels unwelcoming and harsh, you think in a sour mood.

Everywhere aside from this hole in the wall coffee shop, that is.

As if the universe heard your prayer you find it on a back street, two blocks from the student union. You look in through the window in disbelief.

The ceiling is high and draws in all the light it can, making the space feel cozy and welcoming despite the fall chill. You stand and shake the water from your hair and coat before pulling open the door to step inside.

A few of the circular polished birch tables are filled with other students getting a head start on homework for the quarter. A couple at a back table holds hands and smiles at each other over the rims of their large white mugs, filled with something steaming. It feels like a pocket of quiet and serenity in an otherwise frantic town.

Suddenly you shiver and remember how freezing you are. You turn to look up at the menu.

The walls are an off-white brick, the menu is a chalkboard that dominates the wall behind the counter. Neat letters list off the daily specials, the coffees and the teas, and you lick your lips in anticipation of the delicious warmth of a hazelnut latte.

The man behind the counter hums while he wipes down the machines. He looks about your age, maybe a bit older. His soothing voice blends in with the music coming through the speakers and you wonder what sort of dream you walked in on. Something about him makes your shoulders drop and some of the tension slide off of you.

He notices you watching him and straightens. His warm eyes take in the wet hair plastered to your forehead, the way your fingers grip the strap of your backpack, and the clothes you wore today because they finally make you feel like yourself.

'Hey, how's it going?' he asks, walking closer to you.

He's taller than you thought, now that's he's standing up straight. You had wondered if your tastes in men would change, now that the whirlwind of thoughts about your own gender finally resolved themselves into a cohesive whole.

But no, you think, fighting your first real smile of the day, I still have a thing for the tall ones.

'Hanging in there,' you answer, clearing your throat and working on lowering the pitch to what feels right. 'How about you?'

'It's been good,' he says. 'But it's better now that someone in here finally has some decent music taste.'

You frown in confusion and he laughs softly, pointing and making you look down to the band tee you're wearing. 'Oh! You like them too?'

'Sure do. Not many people in this neighborhood are fans, are you new in town?'

He rests a long arm on the counter and waits patiently for you to respond, as if he’s in no hurry.

You wonder if he's always this nice to new customers. If he knows that his long lashes and dimple will get him big tips, especially if he flirts. But you don't get the sense that he's putting on a front; he genuinely seems interested. The idea makes your stomach flip.

'I am. Just started at the U today. Is it obvious I don't fit in here?' you say with a laugh, scratching your neck self-consciously.

Coming to school out of state sounded like a good idea, a fresh start. A chance to be you, without anyone around who knew you before you started transitioning. It helps that you finally feel like yourself, or that you're on your way, at least. But today has been so much, all you want is a friendly face and a hug.

'No, not at all,' he counters with that damn megawatt smile again. 'I just haven't seen you before. And I'd definitely have remembered.'

'Oh.' The word leaves you unintentionally, without your permission. Despite the cold you feel your cheeks heating up. Okay, so. He might sort of possibly definitely be flirting. We got this.

'Well, if your hazelnut latte is good I think this will be my regular study spot.’

He laughs, a rich sound that wraps around you, stronger and more seductive than the smell of espresso.

‘So, no pressure then,’ he quips. He pretends to roll up his non-existent sleeves and moves to the machine to begin steaming the milk.

You look around the place while he makes your order, mostly so you don’t stare at the cupid’s bow of his lips while he works.

The art on the walls is subtle, abstract. You wonder if he chose it, he feasibly seems old enough to be the kind of person who could own a place like this. Or he could just happen to be the only person working here.

‘So what’s your name?’ he asks, drawing you back.

You tell him, standing up straighter and prouder as you say your new name, your real name.

He nods to himself and slides the tall glass towards you, taking the card you set on the counter to run it through the machine. You wrap your hands around it, sighing as the warmth works its way through the cold in your fingers.

Before you can chicken out, you ask him what his name is. Casually, confidently. He somehow seems to make you both excited and relaxed and you don’t want the moment to end.

‘I’m Mingyu. I’m a Sophomore at the U,’ he says with a smile, handing your card back. ‘I work Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursdays after class. If you happen to like it.’

Once again he makes you frown in confusion; once again he chuckles happily, motioning to the drink you hold. ‘The latte, I mean.’

‘Oh.’ To hide your smile you take a sip of the drink. You want to moan out loud it’s so good. Instead, you tell him so. ‘It’s perfect.’

He holds your gaze for a long moment and a warmth runs through your veins that has nothing to do with hot coffee. Then the jingle of a bell sounds behind you and you turn to see three girls push through the door, shivering and talking excitedly about hot chocolates.

When you look back, Mingyu is still watching you with a faint smile. Maybe it’s your imagination, but he looks sad to be called away.

‘I’ll see you around,’ you say, walking to find a table.

To avoid embarrassing yourself you bury your head in your thick textbook and laptop and busy yourself with note-taking. When you look up two hours later, night has fallen and there’s someone new at the register, a petite girl with red hair. You wonder what time he got off work, if he thought about waving to you and you missed it.

You wonder where he goes, if he lives with someone. Roommates or a girlfriend or boyfriend maybe. You stick your pen between your lips and wonder if he’ll remember you the next time you come in.

The next time, two days later, he looks up at the sound of the bell and smiles when he sees you. His eyes crinkle at the edges and his face is so warm and welcoming you wonder if he was expecting you, or perhaps waiting for you.

‘Hey stranger,’ he says with a sly smile. ‘How’s your day? Same thing today?’

You nod, so pleased that you have to bite your lip to avoid grinning and giving yourself away entirely.

‘Classes are good. I think I’m getting the hang of this town finally. I’m not too sure about this intro to comp lit class I’m taking, though. I might drop it but I’ll see after class tomorrow and -’ Oh god, I’m rambling.

You take a deep breath and let it out with an amused laugh. ‘Yes, another hazelnut latte would be perfect, thank you.’

He asks you about your favorite song from the band you talked about yesterday while he makes the drink. Every answer you give you try to keep short, to turn the conversation back to him, if only to hear his low, sweet voice and to watch the way his brows shoot up every time he gets excited.

When you slide your card across the counter he waves you off, saying it’s on the house.

Blessedly, no one else comes in to take his attention away, and you talk until the glass is empty. This time, the interruption comes in the form of another co-worker, tapping Mingyu out. He grins at you and lifts the apron over his head.

‘Want to grab dinner? My shift is finally over,’ Mingyu says, reaching down below the counter to find a backpack. He slips it over his shoulder and comes around the counter to stand in front of you.

The word YES feels like it wants to burst from you, but first, you have to know. ‘As like… friends?’ You say nervously, forgetting to pitch your voice lower.

He looks down, biting his lip. ‘I don’t give my friends free coffee,’ he says smoothly, looking up at you through his lashes and sliding his hands into his pockets. ‘I make them pay double.’

The two of you laugh. ‘Okay, then,’ you say, sure that by now you’re grinning like an idiot at him.

The dimple in his cheek deepens as his lips pull back into a smile. ‘Okay, then.’

The strands of lights around the room give it a soft glow, and you think to yourself this truly is a magical place. As you push out into the once again drizzling and chilly evening you’re glad you’re taking Mingyu and all his light and warmth with you this time.

#DRABBLEPALOOZA #mingyu x reader #mingyu fluff #mingyu au #coffee shop au #seventeen x reader #seventeen fluff #seventeen fanfic #mingyu fanfic #seventeen au #svt x reader

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randomoranges · 5 years

Text

Sometimes you live through a day that inspires a moment.

Sunsets

It was a last minute idea – a suggestion late Thursday evening, almost as though a thought bubble had emerged from the recess of Étienne’s mind – a simple idea – an excuse to get out of the house, go out and explore something different – and surfaced to be heard. Edward wasn’t sure if it was restless energy that had prompted it or a deeper yearning for freedom coupled with a sense of feeling trapped – manic energy manifesting itself in the strangest of ways, but the usual signs of that weren’t necessarily present and so Edward had turned off his worry and figured that Étienne simply wanted to do something different with him – spend some time away from their usual hangouts.

A day trip.

A simple drive down to a different place, an excuse to play tourists and go exploring a foreign land – suspend the disbelief of real life obligations for the period of a day, before returning to the every day routine. A day to themselves to be and enjoy – reconnect, unwind and play pretend.

It sounded sublime.

Edward agreed before Étienne even had a chance to let him know where it was he wanted to go. The idea was appealing, the thought of getting away enticing and he already knew the company would be good – he would follow Étienne to the moon and back, from hell to heaven without even questioning it. He trusted the man and so on Sunday morning, the alarm went off earlier than usual – far too early for a Sunday morning, but it was a long weekend and Edward supposed they could be lazy tomorrow – there would be time to curl around each other and rest tomorrow – and after a quick breakfast, they hit the open road.

It was testimony to how impromptu this trip was that they didn’t bother packing lunches, figured they would sort that out at a later point, made sure they had valid ID, their wallets and some water for the day, before driving away. Edward drove them down, following the careful instructions of his co-pilot, while Étienne selected a carefully curated list of songs from his “road trip” playlist to give them some background noise.

It was a liberating feeling to be on the open road and see the trees zoom by – the changing landscape and scenery – blue skies inviting them in for future adventures once they would arrive at their destination. It reminded them of other times when they’d gone on different road trips with other friends and other people, but the feeling of the road trip remained unchanged – the giddiness of the escapade and the endless possibilities the day presented.

Despite their early morning start, Étienne was bright and jovial, keeping the conversation going – excited for the day, coming alive the closer they got to their destination and Edward wondered, again, not for the first time, if there hadn’t been more to this last minute trip than what Étienne let on, but he kept the thought to himself, enjoying instead the sight of Étienne’s unguarded smile and the sound of his raucous laughter.

There was no real plan to their day – no carefully crafted itinerary of places to visit and things to try out; Étienne had made a few suggestions here and there of ideas, had perused his phone for a moment, but other than that, once the car was parked, they let their feet guide them more than anything. It was a dizzying and eclectic run through the city, but quite frankly, it was perfect. Étienne snapped photo after photo of interesting things he saw, from fascinating statues to silly stickers on lampposts and Edward ducked out of the photos when Étienne pointed the camera towards him, but stepped closer when Étienne pulled him for selfie after selfie and he felt himself slowly relax. They walked up and down the main street, explored quirky shops and looked at various different trinkets that made them laugh. Étienne got a magnet for the refrigerator, saying they needed something to commemorate the day, before they headed off in the opposite direction, towards the sunshine, the waterfront and the sand.

It took Étienne less than a minute to shuck his shoes and socks and to walk a little ways ahead, daring every now and again to approach the still frigid water and to dip a cautious toe. Each new venture was accompanied by a shriek and a laugh as the water lapped around Étienne’s feet and sent him running back towards Edward, exclaiming how very cold the water was but how delightful it felt and contrasted with the warm sand. Edward could only laugh, endeared by Étienne’s antics and watched from a safer distance. Étienne tried to pull Edward to the water, coaxed him to walk next to him and Edward watched the sun dance on Étienne’s smile as he made a shy grab for his hand and laced their fingers together. Étienne looked at him, smile frozen, surprise evident in his green eyes at Edward’s impulsive gesture, but delighted and pleased, all too happy to give Edward’s hand a gentle squeeze and slow down to fall in step with him, feet still walking through the water that didn’t seem quite so cold anymore as his heart skipped merrily along.

It was a leisurely walk along the water, soft and gentle – refreshing in its own way as the midday sun beat down on them and as much as Edward was starting to feel the heat and sweat trickle down his back, his mind was elsewhere, observing the spectacle that was Étienne who seemed to be flourishing under the rays of the sun and the cool caress of the water. Étienne who would reach for his camera in the back pocket of his short-shorts to snap yet another photo and Edward marvelled that the camera even fit and feared that it would fall out and get swept away by the current, but like with many things, Étienne liked to live on the edge and assured him that nothing would happen and that it would be fine. Edward wasn’t sure if Étienne was referring to more than the precarious state of his phone in his pocket, but he still kept a discreet eye on the device when it was out of Étienne’s hands if only to make sure that it was safely tucked away.

Eventually they reached a pier that went out further still into the water and at its edge; they found a breathtaking view and a charming little ice cream shop that sold treats to help them fight the heat of the day. They sat on the edge of the pier, tucked away together, their feet dangling into the water as they ate away at their ice cream, enjoying the moment, the sound of the lapping waves and the seagulls that flew above. Edward marvelled that he had been able to pay for the treats and was content watching Étienne lick away at his cone with gusto and enthusiasm, returning back to his, before it melted.

If every day and moment could be like this, life would be perfect.

Summer was a good look on Étienne. Summer cradled Étienne close to its body and breathed in new life in him. Edward looked forward to summer just to see Étienne thrive time and again. Summer was when Étienne seemed to be at peace with himself he had the proof right beside him as Étienne leaned over to steal a lick from Edward’s own ice cream, resulting in mild protest from him – but Edward didn’t mind, not really and never found it in himself to mind – not if it meant he could hear Étienne’s unguarded laugh and see that bright smile on his face. Not if it meant Étienne would sit close to him and brush his foot against his own. Not if it meant Étienne would then look up to him, a shy little smile taking over that absolutely melted Edward’s heart every time.

With the ice cream eaten and their energy levels a little higher, they continued the exploration of the town they had picked to visit, keeping to the waterfront, stopping here and there to look at the various shops and trinkets on display, the day wearing on, until the late afternoon sun promised them a spectacular sunset, if they were to wait a little longer. Edward suggested they find a spot for dinner, maybe even one with a view on the water and Étienne nodded eagerly, taking his hand and making his way back the other way, to where he had seen a promising little place that would do the trick.

It didn’t matter they had to wait; the weather was pleasant, the company excellent and by the time they were seated, they had the greatest of views on the water, the pier and the slowly setting sun. Edward couldn’t necessarily recall what it was he had for dinner that night – it was good, sure, but what he did remember was the afterwards – once the bill was paid and they lingered a little longer for one of nature’s greatest shows.

They made it to the pier – to a part of it directly in front of the water that wasn’t occupied – and while Edward kept his shoes on and folded his legs to sit, Étienne had his feet back in the water, the most content and beautiful of smiles on his face. And while Étienne watched the sunset, leaning a little into Edward’s space, Edward couldn’t help but watch the other greatest of spectacles playing right beside him.

As the sun started to set, it seemed they were sitting right in its path and Edward watched, transfixed, as Étienne was bathed in golden light by the gentle rays of the sun. He watched the peaceful smile that graced Étienne’s features as he was warmed by the sun, soothed by its presence. Edward reached out for his own phone and managed to snap a few photos – discreetly – before Étienne could notice. These were for him. This was his own private moment and he wanted to frame it forever. He wanted to hoard it away for a rainy day and look back at it – remember the fullness he felt in his heart and the warmth that spread through his veins. He wanted to remember the way the natural highlights of Étienne’s hair shone through with the help of the sun and how carefree he looked in this moment, forever. He wanted to envelop the moment for himself – to indulge in it and over indulge into gluttonously, until full.

Instead, he pocketed his phone, leant back a little to get a fuller view, and watched the sunset play off Étienne’s face as it casted its wonderful colours on his skin from soft yellows to deep oranges and vivid ambers. He watched, mesmerized, and not for the first time that day, Edward felt himself falling for Étienne a little more, and almost as if Étienne was riding the same wave as him, Étienne looked back towards him, smiled softly, and reached out for his hand. It was only then that Edward looked away – looked as the sun dipped behind the trees and the mountains and then exploded across the sky, painting the clouds in pinks, yellows, and mauves. His breath caught in the mix of the spectacle and if he held on to Étienne’s hand a little tighter, Étienne didn’t mention it.

Afterwards, on the way back, Étienne snuggled deep into Edward’s old sweatshirt, comforted in its warmth, while Edward chuckled to himself, teasing Étienne that it was only twenty-two degrees outside, but Étienne defended himself as he always did, blaming the lack of sun and warmth for his late night chills. Edward let him be, fond, and started the long drive back home; driving to Étienne’s next carefully curated playlist. Étienne eventually fell quiet, browsing through the photos on his phone, and when Edward noticed he was dozing off, head lolling to the side as he tried to remain awake for moral support, he let him know he could rest – that he was fine and that he would get them home safely. Étienne valiantly tried to fight off sleep, but eventually he succumbed, rocked by the motions of the car and the soft music.

Edward smiled to himself and drove on.

#pc: montreal #pc: edmonton #Edward Murphy #étienne maisonneuve #fic #canon #au #present #past #i tried to keep this as vague as possible #because it can go anywhere #the only hint is the cell phone #you decide

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gingerlexi2897 · 5 years

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If you know me, you know I love Scotland. The green hills, the food, the weather, (yes, the weather), but most importantly the people. No matter how much you love a place, it’s the people that keep you coming back. They’re the ones you connect with and build a relationship with.

Since we spent close to two weeks there this time, I’ve decided that the best way to go about this is to split the trip into two parts: Part I being our time in Glasgow and Edinburgh and Part II during our week in Perth. Otherwise, you’d never get through it.

As our plane descended into Edinburgh Airport, you could feel the excitement of Erin and Itty sitting next to me as they caught their first glimpse of the countryside sprawling out in every direction. None of us could stop smiling, Erin partially because she had just been reading Outlander and was dreaming of Jamie, while I couldn’t help but feel like I was home. We walked down the steps onto the tarmac, doing our best princess wave on the way, and were greeted by the cool breeze that let us know we most definitely not in central Europe anymore.

Because our flight out of Paris had been delayed and we landed later than we had anticipated, we spent our first evening in Edinburgh doing what we do best; sitting in a pub, people watching and eating good food. We checked into our Airbnb, which much to Erin’s disgust was on the top floor of a building with no lift, and set out to find a pub and see a wee bit of the city before the sun went down, which thankfully isn’t until nearly 11 in the summer.

Our first full day in Scotland was just that, full. We set out from our flat decently early and headed for the Royal Mile and Edinburgh Castle. Since Mum, Dad, and I had already seen the castle and are pretty familiar with the Mile, we set Erin and Itty loose to see the crown jewels and learn about the history of Scotland. While they were in the castle with the rest of the tourists, the rest of us meandered down the Mile and took in the sights of the Fringe Festival which kicked off that day. We also made a pit stop at the famous Elephant House coffee shop, the “birthplace of Harry Potter.”

Erin and Itty caught up with us after a while and we turned our sights on Holyrood Park and Arthur’s Seat at the top. In some ways, this was one of the most exciting parts of the trip for me because I managed to hike all the way up and down the hill without turning an ankle, which is not something I would’ve been able to say before ankle surgery in March. Oh, and the views from the top are SO worth it. From Arthur’s Seat, you get the best view of Edinburgh and Leith spreading out beneath you and the Firth of Forth. I think it would have been all too easy for us to just sit up there the whole day listening to Josh Garrels and enjoying the view, but we had things to do.

Once we knew the exact dates of our Scotland portion of the trip and where we would be for most of those days, we set about trying to meet up with some of the team that had been in Hungary with us, specifically, the guys in Glasgow. After some slight teeth pulling and back and forth, we managed to arrange to meet them in town that evening for dinner. So after a late lunch with Mum and Dad, the three of us girls grabbed a train from Edinburgh Waverly bound for Queen Street and Glasgow. With the expectation bar set low and no clue what our evening would hold, we sat in the beautiful sunny in George Square and waited to see how exactly this evening was going to go. The general consensus between the three of us was that if they bailed straight after dinner, we were just going to go out and enjoy Glasgow for ourselves because we paid for those train tickets, darn it.

You’ll be happy to know that our back-up plans and slightly salty attitudes were not needed. We had our last few moments of doubts as we watched the boys walk up to us looking like we’d shaved their highland cow, but those feelings quickly evaporated. Even though they had only just landed back in Glasgow from Hungary the afternoon before, Kieren and Gregor were willing to give up their Friday night to show three crazy Americans around Glasgow.

I fell in love with Glasgow that night like I never had before. The boys took us on a grand, albeit slightly unexpected, walking tour from George Square through Kelvingrove Park to the West End, all the while telling all sorts of ridiculous stories and catching us up on all that had happened in the week since camp. I could so easily go on an on about the different conversations about football and growing up in Glasgow and all that we managed to do in the 6 hours we spent in Glasgow, but that would have to be a post all on its own or we’d be here all day. All I’ll say is that I’m hugely thankful for friends who give up their evening to make us laugh and take us for pizza and gelato. (Stick a churro in it.)

When we left on the last train back to Edinburgh that night, we had no expectation of being back anytime soon. Yet a week later we found ourselves surrounded by the sights and sounds of Glasgow once more. Kieren graciously sacrificed his peace and quiet on a Saturday morning to pick Erin, Itty, and I up from the train station and take us to a football (soccer) match with him and his Grandad. I’ve probably said it dozens of times at this point, but I’m genuinely so shocked by the boys’ willingness to spend extended periods of time with us.

Kieren has supported Alloa Athletic his entire life and spends his Saturdays from August to May traveling up and down the country supporting them, so when he asked if we wanted to make the trek to Greenock with him, we jumped on the opportunity. He even managed to pull a few strings and get us free tickets (Thanks, Gordon!). As someone who absolutely loves football and tries to watch it as often as I can, I’d been looking forward to Saturday since we made the plans earlier in the week. While Erin had seen a US Women’s National Team match before, this was Itty’s first experience with the world of football. She spent the whole 90 minutes fully engaged in the match and asking every question she could. Although Alloa unfortunately didn’t pull out the win, we had a great time cheering on the wasps and I think we made Itty a football fan along the way.

We spent the rest of the afternoon/evening just hanging out with Kieren’s grandparents and then the four of us grabbed dinner together before Kieren dropped us off at the station and we rode the 45 minutes back to Perth. Since Erin and Itty had decided to spend the last few days of their trip before they flew out on Thursday Glasgow, I planned on going back down with them for the day that Monday so we all knew we would be back in less than 48 hours when we said goodbye Saturday night.

Monday morning just after peak hours we drug Erin and Itty’s cases to the station in Perth and were once again headed for the now-familiar Queen Street station in Glasgow. Because they couldn’t check into their Airbnb until later that afternoon, we checked their bags at the station and set off in search of something to do for the day until we were to meet up with Stevie. We originally set off for the Botanical Gardens since it was the one thing we hadn’t seen the Friday evening we spent with Gregor and Kieren, but instead found ourselves in Kelvingrove Art Gallery and Museum out of the rain. If you’re looking for something to do in Glasgow on a rainy day, the art museum is free and in my opinion way better than our adventure at the Louvre had been.

Stevie met us at Kelvingrove and after a bit of a laugh trying to get a taxi in the rain, we headed once again to the West End and a cozy coffee shop. I think one of the reasons I love Glasgow and Scottish culture so much is because when we met up with our friends, there was never a feeling of being on a schedule and that they only had 30 minutes to see us before heading off to something else. We probably spent close to 3 hours that afternoon just sitting in Kothel chatting with Stevie about anything and everything like we had known him forever.

A little after 4 that afternoon we collected Erin and Itty’s bags from the train station and walked to 10 mins to their Airbnb in the Merchant City district. Once we managed to fix the bed after I broke it, (oops…) we went out in search of dinner before meeting up with Kieren at quite possibly the coolest bar I’ve ever been too. Two words: Gin. Bar. Oh, it was absolutely incredible. The menu was about 50 pages long and filled with dozens of different regional gins, tonics, and mixers. All-in-all, I think Glasgow has very easily become one of my favourite places in the world. The best part of the whole thing? Kieren doesn’t even really care for gin.

As I said goodbye to Itty and Erin and climbed on the train back to Perth that night, I couldn’t help but debate the idea of not boarding the plane the following morning and just figuring out how to stay in Scotland forever. I did board the flight the next day but was already making plans to be back in December.

Songs for Scotland:

Heaven’s Knife – Josh Garrels

Belter – Gerry Cinnamon

Real Love Baby – Father John Misty

Lexi

10 points to whoever guesses where the title is from.

The Roof is on Fire and It’s Raining Outside If you know me, you know I love Scotland. The green hills, the food, the weather, (yes, the weather), but most importantly the people.

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itsnatayoga · 6 years

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Chasing The Sun - week 4

Nearly 4 weeks into this challenge and I’ve found myself with a nasty case of the “I want to give ups”.

On Thursday morning I gave some serious consideration to the thought that said “meh, do you reeeeeally need to keep doing this?”... I did manage to make it out of bed and begin my challenge, making one minor but crucial change to my usual routine. I played music. Not the calming, instrumental, “breathe your troubles away” kind of music (which, don’t get me wrong, I bloody LOVE). I needed sugary pop tunes flowing through my veins as I practiced.

When Pink says “there’s not enough rope to tie me down”, Sia declares “I keep gettin’ up when I hit the ground” and Kesha tells me “I’m a motherf*ing woman!”, not only does it give me a massive dose of motivation, it also adds a whole lot of joy and requires less willpower on my behalf.

Making things enjoyable is essential when it comes to forming habits. All I have to do is look at my love of desserts to understand this. Eat a chocolate, feel the joy, crave more joy, repeat. Vicious little cycle this isn’t it? But I’m not here to kick my love of desserts. I love them and I don’t want to stop eating desserts (it’s NOT a pretty picture when I try). Sure I have days where we may have a few co-dependency issues but, for the most part, dessert and I are in a committed, long term love affair and I am ok with that.

So how can joy make good habits stronger?

Add music. To exercising, cleaning, cooking, travelling. Have a playlist of your favourite songs on standby for when you need a little extra motivation.

Add a buddy. Whether it’s at the gym or in the kitchen, having someone else there to help and share the experience with can add a little joy. Side note: if you commit to exercise with a friend, you are more likely to go.

Add ambience. From meditation, to exercise, to doing admin work; do not underestimate the power of a positive vibe. Light your favourite candles, use lamps instead of bright lighting, adjust the temperature; anything that helps the room to feel more pleasant for you.

This can increase the desire to actually DO them when we may not be “feelin’ it” say at 6 o’clock on a rainy morning. The more enjoyable you find something; the more likely you are to do it. The less you have to think about doing it; the less willpower it takes to do it.

Think of willpower as cash. You put $50 in your pocket for the day and once it’s gone, it’s gone. You spend $15 getting out of bed, $10 ignoring the donut that calls out your name from the bakery you walk past everyday, $15 getting your work tasks done, $10 choosing healthy ingredients at the supermarket for dinner... that’s $50 gone! You’re spent (pun intended) when it comes to things like cooking and getting yourself to exercise for the day. So how do we use our willpower more mindfully?

Get in early! Your willpower is strongest at the start of the day. When the alarm goes off, get up. Don’t think, just do it. Nike knows what they’re talking about. The more you think, the more willpower you use. So exercise, prepare your food for dinner that night, meditate; whatever it is that you want to accomplish, do it in the morning. When you get home with your willpower depleted, dinner is a quick task and you can enjoy your evening. And if you didn’t quite get time to pre prepare dinner? Well, pizza definitely brings joy!

So when Sia says “don’t give up”, do you give up? Of course not! You complete your Sun Salutations and start your day like a badass*.

*Starting your day like a badass may involve going straight to the shower and lying down for 20 minutes before you actually start your day.

#yoga #yogablog #yogachallenge #yogateacher #sunsalutation #sia #pink #kesha #pizza #joy #willpower #habits #habit #habitloop #enjoy #joyful #muisc #friends #ambience #candles

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bites-kms · 6 years

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La Joie de Vivre: Paris 32mm

Just came from Le Caveau de la Huchette - yes, the jazz club from La-La-Land. I didn’t know this, until I was at the door. I was just looking for a fun place to have a drink or two on a Thursday night and what a joy I found. I literally found the joy of life, or the Parisian way - la joie de vivre.

These people, they were so immerse into the beat, it was très magnifique. Specially there was this one women, with style and grace, short hair, long earrings, long skirt -long according to her age but edgy enough let her wave and move around-, without a bra, laughing and shaking her arms towards the back while killing the dance floor at the beat and rhythm of bebop with his partner, a black man with a white haired afro, with the same big smile and crazy moves as her. It was amazing. I only felt tele transported like this before and it was at Nicky’s, the best Speakeasy bar in Buenos Aires. But this was the real deal: I am in Paris, living the late roaring 20s, in between wars after the American soldiers fought in Paris, in a lost cave right next Ile de cité, few blocks away from Notre Dame.

photocredits: Black Label Media Although I must confess I was expecting to meet my Ryan Gosling - and yes, I did remember our dance mov(i)es - I met Mr. PH, or Pierre-Henri, the lovely Swedish/French, who lived in Utah from Uppsala. It’s amazing to be able to connect with all these people through music, regardless of age and origin, and this was even more special due to my Swedish experience. We danced and laughed a lot. I proudly made a fool of myself and decided I’m gonna learn this dance once Im back in NYC. Then I met Maurice, a younger, intriguing French guy with whom we danced more upbeat my-hips-dont-lie songs. That was some intense moves going on there! I had such a wonderful time I couldn’t wait to come home to write about it, I hope to make justice to the amazing experience I just had. Walking down the Seine, as Owen Willson in Midnight in Paris, I came back home - to this evil, evil Airbnb, not without stoping by the Louvre and enjoying all its secrets, changing my movie switch to the Da Vinci Code.

It’s still mesmerizes me how much these narratives shape our collective perspectives on the world. I was thinking about this exact same issue while walking down my office’s street the other day, back in NY, and saw a couple of police patrols going around like crazy, with a black SUV that looked as if it was from the FBI and a small but intense manifestation. I was surprised on how quiet the protesters were after the police cars passed by and didn’t make much sense to me. That was when I finally realized I was living this meta-reality and was tricked by my very own mind: this was all a set up for Gotham and I thought it was the real deal. I couldn’t stop laughing and my mind exploded for a couple of very long minutes trying to understand and process all these realities happening at the same time in my head! So yes, this is my tribute to them, to the movies, to those little pieces of realities that we share in 32 mm (or blue ray, but that way is not that picturesque any more) And it feels weird that I start this tribute in Paris and not in New York, but I guess the NYC experience still feels a little bit surreal to me. At least here I know I’m not staying for good, I’m just here for 10 days, so I guess that makes me way more objective, an eager observer and an obsessed analytic of every minute.

I deserved some celebration after the success on the US embassy, so I decided to start with the simplest thing: let’s go for dinner! I went for my poulette avec pomme de terre but since it only came with fries, I switched it for the plat du soir and felt a little bit of the Jack Nicholson’s magic on Something Gotta Give at the Grand Colbert restaurant.

I ended up in the most surreal circumstances on a Friday’s night. Lost, during a thin-rainy eve in Paris, searching for hidden wifi hotspots in order to reach my destination: a typical French bistro by Le Marais. What I didnt realized, was that I was gonna run into this typical French guy called William. William, is actually a PHD professor and researcher from Atlanta- although he has been living in France since forever, and as per a Woody Allen movie, he was wearing a brown suit jacket which was double his proper size. He was also wearing bigger trousers -not pants- and we debated about morality, existence and transcendence of matter and language over the Frankfurt School, Marcuse, Horkheimer, Adorno for more than 4 hours, having wine, charcuterie and terrine. It was a very nice movie cliche to experience without even planning it!

Who knew Paris was so famous in movies? I mean, of course in the collective imagery it is, but I didn’t actually realize the size nor the amount of “featured time” Paris have in this movie so called life. After my wonderful La-La-Land experience, my expectations were high and difficult to match, but oh you, dear Amélie, that was a hell of a Saturday we shared together!

I went to Montmartre and started my film on the Abesees station, right next to the carrousel, close to her apartment. After a beautiful morning stroll with the sun on my face and the joy on each and every single pore of my being, I found the Cafe des 2 Moulins, where she enjoys the small but amazing things of life. Little did I know that not only the creme brûlée was gonna be amazing, but the atmosphere and the memories would be as such! The waiter became my fan: he noticed I was writing in my journal and started hitting on me with the sweetest and cheesiest lines ever, talking about the movie, practicing and mixing English and French, gifting me a pain au chocolat, drawing a heart gesture on the air before giving it to me. He even dared to asked for my number in the most courageous yet sweet way imaginable! It really made my day. Thanks Jullien, that was fun! Of course I also checked out the Studio 28 Cinema, where Amelie enjoys her movies. BITES & KMS SAYS: That’s a meta-hyper reality indeed: Amelie, a fictional character which I watch, goes and watches movies to the cinema in a narrative fiction, located on the same place I am standing right now in real life, thinking and wondering about what that character would be feeling at that moment, with the difference that I am feeling it right now. Wow #mindblown

Of course, I couldn’t stop singing My Song, performed by Christian (Ewan McGregor), feeling a little bit like Satine from Moulin Rouge, while going up and down hills. I hate Boulevard de Clichy, I absolutely hate it: it’s dirty, touristy, with no style nor personality, full of weird people in the bad sense weird can be understood. But well, even though the Bal du Moulin Rouge is located there, this is not whatsoever the best part of the Quarter. So, I kept my musical dream alive and went around the other small and hidden streets. I actually found a spot, which was absolutely perfect. I needed to stop and write about it. My piece of paper said something like this: “Little pieces of Paris, small and unique as the cobblestones of their streets, where only the little birds sing and the sun warms the soul, in between the distant buzz and talks from the tourists.” I imagine a little chambre on one of those top balconies, with lovers singing to each other, having sex and drinking wine in bed at 11 am on a Sunday, waiting to be drunk again to keep sleeping. I stopped by this wonderful Bistro called Le Sancerre. I had my first glass of champagne and had a delicious lunch, falling in love with all these movies, one scene at a time.

The following day I had a very specific location in mind: the Coulee Verte Rene Dumont: secret lover gardens. Only true Parisians go there and take their dates in hopes of some French kiss action. It is quite far off the tourist circuit, and that made me realized how the US is a rough copy of the best of France, with a very local spin. The Highline, that architecture phenomenon everyone is proud of, already existed here in Paris more than a century ago, and still lingers today. So, sorry Paula Scher, there’s nothing new under the sun. And talking about the sun, this was the setting for Before Sunset. I went there to seek inspiration and to reflect upon that proper dialogue that happens in the movie. Was sex with Ethan Hawke that forgettable or was it actually remarkable? Was he really happy with his wife? Why aren’t they together? Are they meant to be?

I guess there is just time to listen to some Nina Simone - which, for the time being, we can switch for French Edit Piaf or Italian Mina- and to whomever is asking when I’m flying back, I’m just gonna do as Ethan Hawke:

Celine- Hey Babe, you’re gonna miss that plane. Jesse- I know.

#love #paris #parisien #france #jetaime #movies #film #blog #travel #life #beautiful

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ivefoundmygoldfish · 7 years

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A Note or Two

Fandom: Sherlock BBC Pairing: Mycroft/Lestrade Word Count: 2503 AO3: [x] Summary: In which Mycroft moves into a new block of flats, buys a Steinway Classic Grand piano, and has conversations via post-it notes stuck on his door with an unknown neighbour.

Inspired by this tumblr post.

Mycroft's piano is a Steinway Classic Grand, and probably looks a little bit like this in his flat.

For a chronological list of the songs referenced in this fic, I've put together a playlist with both original songs and piano versions.

When Mycroft was barely eleven years old, he found Sherlock waiting for him in the principal’s office, cheeks ruddy and tear-stained, and his bottom lip quivering slightly. Clutching Sherlock’s small hand tightly, he walked home with the mantle of responsibility heavy on his shoulders, keenly disappointed in his parents.

By his twelfth birthday, he considered himself relatively independent.

Now, at twenty years of age and starting his career with MI5, independence is no longer a foreign concept to him. Yet as he looks at his sparse furniture and the empty packing boxes leaning against the wall of his new flat, the emptiness washing over him comes as a surprise.

It’s not quite the family house Mycroft has a yearning for, despite spending his formative years growing up there. Nor is the sense of emptiness related to his parents—after all, they were mainly emotionally distant during his upbringing, if not physically.

Perhaps part of it can be attributed to the absence of Sherlock and Mrs Hudson—officially the housekeeper, unofficially Sherlock’s personal minder, and quite honestly the only reason why he feels comfortable leaving Sherlock behind to pursue his career.

As he unpacks the final box, Mycroft tells himself that the emptiness, the sheer sentimentality, is illogical and meaningless.

—

The following day, he taps into his inheritance to purchase his dream piano and has it delivered to his flat.

—

Their parents had never found it fit to upgrade the old, upright piano they had at home, choosing instead to channel their funds towards replacing or repairing damaged furniture, frequently victimised by Sherlock’s experiments. It was odd—and a little unfair, really, a small, bitter voice inside him adds—how their parents were quick to throw their money to anything pertaining to Sherlock, such as when they had a violin custom-made and given to him as a gift for his twelfth birthday. However, when the time called for it, they gave nothing to contribute to Sherlock’s emotional upbringing. Fittingly, the rare times they performed together, Mycroft was relegated to the role of the accompanist while Sherlock stood in the limelight, and his demeanour and Byronic looks naturally commanded the attention of the room.

Now, Mycroft’s ebony Steinway Classic Grand stands proud, the warm glow streaming through the window to bathe the polished maple and spruce and its elegant curves. It is the centre of attention—Mycroft’s most prized possession—and his sitting room and heart feel slightly less empty when he steps out of his bedroom each morning.

—

Order. Structure. Logic. These are all principles Mycroft gravitates towards, and so as part of his new routine he’s establishing to fit around the nine-to-five job, he practises daily for two hours with his windows ajar: 7-8am (not too early to avoid waking people up) and 5:30-6:30pm (as soon as he arrives so he can wind down before dinner).

Morning pieces are generally optimistic. It may be a little naïve of him, but he still likes the thought of a new day being a clean canvas where anything can happen. (Although growing up with Sherlock has taught him that Murphy’s law is absolute: anything that can go wrong will go wrong.)

The evening pieces have a bit more variation, primarily reflecting how his day went.

Mycroft slips into his routine with ease, until the third month of residence at his flat, that is. It's been a trying day—couple of days, really—and today he’s looking forward to nothing more than letting the day's tensions flow from his fingertips, transforming his frustrations into unbridled melodies and harmonies.

A brightly coloured post-it note affixed to his door stops him.

It’s placed relatively high up, probably at the correspondent’s eye level. The balance of probability suggests a male then, Mycroft deduces. Odd, though, that someone has gone to the efforts of taping a teabag to it. Curiosity piqued, Mycroft draws nearer, deeming it relatively harmless after a thorough once-over. Satisfied it won't trigger any traps or explosives (as many of Sherlock’s surprise packages have done in the past), he removes it from the door, discovering his mysterious correspondent has also made sure to fortify the note’s adhesive strength with Blu Tack.

Sounds like you had a rough day yesterday, judging from last night’s piece, it reads.

Slightly embarrassed, Mycroft recalls the aggressive, relentless onslaught he had drummed out on the keys when he arrived home yesterday. Rough day is quite the understatement.

Tea makes everything better. G.

Oh. So that’s what the tea is for.

It’s a kind and thoughtful gesture, he supposes, even if the brand leaves much to be desired. PG Tips, Mycroft notes with a grimace, and Honey Lemon & Balm instead of his preferred Earl Grey or Assam—but somewhere after stepping over the threshold, he’s decided life hasn’t improved at all since yesterday, and finds himself heading into his kitchen to put the kettle on.

That evening, Mycroft throws his windows wide open and plays something a little more gentle and melodic.

—

Another week and a half passes before the next post-it note appears on his door, Thursday night to be exact. Given that he didn’t respond previously, let alone express his gratitude for the thoughtful gesture (and he may or may not have a box Honey & Lemon Balm PG Tips tucked away next to the hōjicha and karkady in his tea cupboard now), Mycroft was expecting that would be the only note.

The lack of appreciation doesn’t seem to have deterred the other person from initiating conversation—in fact, he seems to be hoping for it, if the handwritten message is any indication.

Sounds like you’re feeling better. Do you take requests? G.

Mycroft frowns. There’s no flat number so he doesn’t know where or whom to address it to, were he to respond, and to be honest, he feels a little silly writing notes to an unknown person living in his building. The only clues he has are male, and the initial ‘G’.

Nevertheless, he finds himself putting pen to paper and affixing his own answer to his door.

As you have already surmised, I play according to my mood. However, if your request is within my ability and frame of mind, I can endeavour to do so.

He hesitates briefly, and then continues to write.

To show my appreciation for the tea. Thank you. MH.

—

John Lennon’s Imagine, the request reads when he arrives home the following day.

Mycroft smiles. A dreamer, huh. Ensuring his windows are wide open, Mycroft slips off his jacket, rolls up his sleeves, and begins to play.

Not long after he finishes the piece, he can hear a faint smattering of applause from a couple of storeys above.

—

The unconventional correspondence continues—erratically at times, and frequent during others.

It often reads of comments, mostly compliments, and occasional requests, depending on whether his neighbour has had a rough or pleasant day:

Shite day. I think The Carpenters’ Rainy Days and Mondays would go well with a can of beer and a dash of reality. G.

It was an apt choice, and Mycroft had played extra loud to make sure his unseen audience could hear his rendition over the gentle pitter patter of the rain.

Or:

Celebrate a good day with me? Your song of choice—surprise me. G.

Just to be clever—and if he acknowledges the small voice inside him, perhaps to show off a little bit—he’d played a medley of feel good songs instead of just one, starting off with The Carpenters’ Top of the World, aware that G dabbles in the duo’s songs. He’d thrown Earth, Wind and Fire’s September into the hotchpotch of songs to match the month at the time, and then wound down his impromptu performance with Gene Kelly’s Singin’ in the Rain, making a note to ask whether G has watched the musical in his written reply.

The requests aren’t frequent, but rather than seeing it as an imposition, Mycroft relishes in it. He loves his music, and for once it feels good to play for someone, to have his music be the centre of attention instead of a mere accompaniment.

—

Christmas rarely brought good tidings—at least not for the Holmes family. The memory of Christmas dinner a few years back had been relegated to the furthest corner of Mycroft’s mind, never to be revisited again. Ever. This Christmas, however, Mycroft’s supervisor and unofficial mentor had informed him that he’d passed his probationary period with flying colours, and that his current roles and responsibilities would change in accordance to the extraordinary capabilities he’d demonstrated thus far.

While he wouldn’t stoop as low as to play Christmas carols, Mycroft did allow himself to pay homage to the month and the happy turn of events that evening with Frankie Valli and the Four Seasons’ December, 1963 (Oh, What a Night). For a moment, he thinks he can hear the distinct tones of an electric guitar pierce into the night.

—

The promotion is a welcome challenge, providing Mycroft with more intellectual stimulation and satisfaction in his job than he’s had since he began at MI5.

Nevertheless, with greater responsibility comes longer hours.

Mornings are no longer a relaxed affair, and the hour allocated for his piano is now spent within the four walls of MI5. By the time Mycroft arrives home, it’s late and he’s ready for takeaway or a simple meal, depending on how tired he is. Unfortunately, after dinner and the clean-up, it’s usually too late to play without being disruptive to his neighbours, and his time is better spent having a shower and heading off to bed.

Still, he is a creature of habit and logic, so Mycroft makes it a point to practise for at least 30 minutes on the upright piano hidden in a barely-used room of the MI5 building, determined not to throw away almost two decades of learning and practice, and his preferred method of self-expression.

For the first few days of settling into his new routine, every time his gaze falls on his neglected Classic Grand, his thoughts stray to his appreciative audience and unconventional pen pal of sorts. Mentally, Mycroft begins to compose a message—a brief explanation detailing the change in working hours, perhaps even an apology—but busy days turn into a week and then a fortnight, and he still hasn’t written anything.

Embarrassingly enough, G beats him to it.

I haven’t heard you play for a while. Are you okay? G.

The warm thrill that rushes through Mycroft quickly quashes any residual feelings of guilt as he plucks the post-it note and teabag from the door and brings it inside.

Mycroft drinks the tea before he sleeps—it’s camomile this time—and carefully places the post-it note in his bedside drawer alongside dozens of others.

—

Determined to show, rather than write G to reassure him of his wellbeing, Mycroft relentlessly plugs away at his current project, finishing a couple of hours earlier than anticipated. Even without the urging of his supervisor, who knows just how many additional hours Mycroft has clocked in over the past week on this project, Mycroft is quick to leave for home.

Unsurprisingly, a layer of dust has settled on his piano, a testament to how long it has been since he played it last. Mycroft gently wipes it clean and then touches his fingers to the keys, fervently hoping his gratitude for his neighbour’s concern will be conveyed through his music.

No sooner has he finished does he hear insistent knocking on his door.

“I missed you,” the young man on the other side of the threshold blurts out as soon as the door opens.

Mycroft blinks. He’s never seen this person before in his life—he’s certain he would have remembered otherwise.

“I-I mean, I missed hearing you play,” the man corrects quickly, nervously.

To Mycroft’s trained eye in interpreting even the subtlest of body language, each gesture speaks of the man’s—no, his neighbour and correspondent’s and G’s nervousness. Mycroft watches as G runs a calloused hand through his thick, brown hair, revealing a widow’s peak that Mycroft didn’t notice earlier. The man inhales deeply, presumably to fortify himself before continuing.

“At first, I thought you might be sick—flu, or sprained finger, or hand, even—and then not long after my patrol shifts were changed, and it hit me that the times we were both in might not overlap anymore. Can you believe I threw a sickie and stayed home the entire day to see if you’d play at all?”

More nervous tells: the shaky laughter, the faint reddening of his ears.

“Part of me actually thought you’d left, but no one saw a truck…”

G trails off into a contemplative silence, and Mycroft can pinpoint the exact moment his brain finally catches up with his mouth from the mortified look that crosses his face.

“Bloody hell you must think I’m a right idiot, blabbering on like that about nothing,” G mutters, eyes downcast. “Just ignore me, I’ll be going now.”

Throughout the awkward, honest monologue, Mycroft’s face has stayed carefully blank while his mind runs in overdrive, then quickly shifts gears for Mycroft to regain composure in time for an intervention. He’s fully aware his experience with social interactions is very limited—come to think about it, outside of work, the odd correspondence he’s had with the man standing opposite him—and he even managed to fail completely at communication, to the point where his neighbour almost believed he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

However, one thing Mycroft is confident he can get right in this unfamiliar situation is politeness, so he inclines his head slightly and says, “I apologise for causing you concern. Several times, in fact, Mister….”

“Greg. Greg Lestrade,” supplies G, no, Greg.

“Greg,” Mycroft repeats, testing how the name rolls off his tongue, familiarising himself with it. “I’m Mycroft. Do you want to come in?”

Greg’s eyes light up, and a brilliant smile spreads across his face. “Can I really?”

Standing to the side as he opens the door wider, Mycroft welcomes Greg in. “I’d like to show my appreciation for the tea.”

The door closes behind them, and a couple of minutes later, the beautiful, lilting melody of The Carpenters’ We’ve Only Just Begun wafts out, carried along by the evening’s gentle breeze.

We've only just begun to live White lace and promises A kiss for luck and we're on our way (We've only begun)

Before the risin' sun, we fly So many roads to choose We'll start out walkin' and learn to run And yes, we've just begun)

Sharing horizons that are new to us Watching the signs along the way Talkin' it over, just the two of us Workin' together day to day Together

And when the evening comes, we smile So much of life ahead We'll find a place where there's room to grow (And yes, we've just begun)

—We’ve Only Just Begun, The Carpenters (1970)

[Part 2 - on tumblr or AO3]

#sherlock bbc #mystrade #mycroft holmes #greg lestrade #AU of sorts #present tense #length: medium #I LIVEEEEEE

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