#after making this its become apparent to me I need to balance out how much fantasy I let myself read akdksks
Text
Lore i
(for How I DIDN’T Become a Villain)
Note: This is based on fanon that is used and accepted by most of the phandom, with the addition of my own ideas on how the supernatural aspect of the DP universe came to be. I.e, the Ghost Zone/Infinite Realms, the title of Ghost King, the origin of Pariah Dark, and much more.
• The Infinite Realms •
The Universe once began. We know how that story goes. The Big Bang, nebulas and planets and stars and light forming everywhere all at once. But there was something else. The Universe was alive, and everything living has something that gives it life. A mind, an engine, a (sub)conscious.
In this, the Universe had a void. An apparent one, at least. This void didn’t have tangible matter the way the Universe did, but it did have something. This void was nearly overflowing with it. Life Energy. It was no void at all, but a Source for all living beings in the Universe. In all Universes.
It had a different name, at first, but once Belief Systems started making their home in its center, thousands upon millions of them, it became the Infinite Realms. A kaleidoscope of energy, of life and death and everything in between. It is that which holds infinite ideas and infinite consciousnesses and infinite concepts and infinite infinities. It is that which holds everything together.
Something this large and this primordial to creation needed something else to take care of it.
• The Linkeepers •
That which is now known as the High King of the Infinite Realms has a true name: Linkeeper. Like all things, there is an origin. The First Linkeeper. They were born of the connection between the Universe and the Source, with the inherent purpose to look after their parents and to assure that neither took or gave too much of the other. They embodied the careful balance between Matter and Energy. That which lived and that which was Life.
The role of Linkeeper changed, the tiniest bit, with each chosen inheritor. However, it was when it landed in Pariah Dark’s greedy, bloody hands that the role was betrayed, cracked to its foundation. No longer signifying balance and caregiver and protecter, the Ghost King took the helm and brought on a role of control, power, and conquest. The balance was thrown off its axis, and war prevailed.
Linkeeper was lost to the dredges of unspoken stories (as there was no one to hear them anymore), and all that could be done to try and retain it was to lock Pariah Dark away and wait. To wait for a chosen inheritor to bring back the balance that had been so carelessly disregarded for nearly three thousand years.
P.S,
this is a shallow, tried-to-keep-it-short explanation of the lore that WILL make an appearance in the fic. I avoided going into certain details of the Linkeeper (like the inheritors/predecessors, their names, and their stories) because i’m reserving that for the fic.
There will be around two more Lore-dumps, and after that maybe a sneak peek at the first chapter (if i have it nice and tidy by then). The actual, full chapters will take me a WHILE to upload (to my ao3 account), because i want to at least have five to seven chapters fully written out before i start posting. That said, hope you like what I have so far!
#danny phantom#dpxdc#How I DIDN’T Become a Villain#HIDBV#lore dump#Lore i#i have many ideas you see#i held myself back from dumping too much because i didn’t want to give too much away#gotta keep my secrets close for plot reasons#i have a very clear and vague idea on the infinimap for this particular fic cuz it’s lowkey part of the lore for the infinite realms but#i’ve been avoiding writing it down cuz i have no idea how to put it into words djdj#anyways here’s to future lore dumps :)
56 notes
·
View notes
Text
Recuperate
Kim Gimyeong/Jake x Reader (Lookism)
Plot: On the run from Worker’s assault on Big Deal, Jake needs a place to hide. Thankfully, you’re there for him.
Genre: PG 13
A/N: The lack of Big Deal content after like feeding us through Covid should be illegal😭 PTJ probably thought at that rate Jake Kim would have become the main character instead.
“Lineman?”
The young man looks at you apologetically. “I’m sorry, we had nowhere else to go.”
You quickly ushered them in, making sure that no one else saw you.
He limps towards the sofa, supporting an injured Jake with much difficulty. You take your medical kit for emergencies, following them to the living room.
“Oh my god, how bad is it?”
Lineman gives you a quick run down on Jake’s injuries much to your shock and horror. You couldn’t believe that Eugene actually had the audacity to launch an attack on Big Deal.
“What about the rest? Are they alright?”
The young man sighs, telling you that the group had split up on Jake’s orders. He has no idea where any of them are now. “For all I know, they could have been caught.”
Your heart clenches at the thought. They didn’t deserve any of this. Jake had worked so hard to improve the image of Big Deal, to create a family. All the hard work had now shattered into pieces with its future hanging in the balance.
You see the fatigue on Lineman’s face. “You should go and get some rest. I’ll take care of him. Close the curtains so that no one can see you.”
The man nods, bowing in gratitude. “Thank you. Thank you so much. Jake is lucky to have you.” With that, he excuses himself from the living room.
As you cleaned up his wounds, you can’t help but to let your mind wander. Lost in thoughts, you almost didn’t see Jake moving from the sofa.
“Jake! Are you alright? Don’t get up.”
He slowly blinks his eyes, turning his head to face you. The scars on his nose and lips are even more apparent after the medical aid and your heart breaks at the thought of what he’s putting himself through.
“Babe?”
You nod, holding his hand. “How you feeling?”
Jake groans, attempting to wiggle his feet. “Like I was hit by a truck. But I’ll live.”
“Lineman told me everything. What are you guys planning to do now?”
He sighs heavily. “We have no choice but to lay low. I don’t like it any more than the guys do, but I can’t afford anyone else being thrown into prison because of me.”
A moment of silence passes between the two of you. Jake squeezes your hand to get your attention. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry that you have me as your boyfriend. You clearly deserve more than a gangster.” You frown at his statement.
“No. You don’t get to say that.” You firmly tell him. “You did what you had to do. You protected your family. Not many people would have the courage to do that.” Unfortunately, Jake still looks very troubled.
“Whatever it is, I’ll be with you. You and Lineman can stay as long as you like. We just need to take extra precautions. I’m not going to let you out of my sight that easily. Not especially when Xiaolong almost killed you.” You can’t help but to tear at that thought.
Jake cups your face, bringing you closer to him. “But I’m still here, aren’t I?” He nuzzles your nose.
You nod, trying to recollect yourself. A wave of determination washes over you. “You will stay until you’re fully healed. When Daniel gets stronger… when Big Deal reunites… you will be ready to fight back and end this war once and for all. We will be free.”
Jake smiles at the thought of your future. It was the only thing that kept him going, kept him fighting. He gently pushes himself up, assessing the current state of his body. Satisfied, he stands up with you at his side.
“What are you doing?” You are slightly alarmed. “Didn’t you hear what I said? You need to-”
“Rest.” He finishes the sentence for you. “But I’m not going to lie in bed the whole day. I got to help out, get my mind of things for now. So how about we make dinner?”
It was that same boyish grin that you fell in love with during your first encounter with him on the streets of Big Deal. That easy going nature of his that made everyone around him comfortable.
Letting him lean on you, the two of you entered the kitchen to prepare dinner. The act was oddly simple, yet you cherished the moment even more. Especially with what had just happened.
As you instructed him to mix the batter, you started to chop on the chives silently, mind deep in thought once more.
“Hey Jake?”
“Hm?”
“We’ll get through this. One day at a time.”
“One day at a time.” He repeats after you. Jake doesn’t know how, but you were always so hopeful. Lineman did the right thing bringing them to your house.
Maybe, you were the light to what was his darkest times. You were his hope. You gave him the will to stay strong and fight.
“I love you.”
“And I love you so much. Don’t you forget that.”
#jake kim lookism#kim gimyung x reader#kim gimyeong x reader#jake kim x reader#kim gimyeong#kim gimyung#jake kim#lookism big deal#jake lookism#lookism x reader
182 notes
·
View notes
Text
EEnE characters ranked (MY OPINION)
Let’s cut right to the chase, because I really wanna put this out there.
Lee Kanker is in last place. She gets lower than F tier. Where Marie and May had moments where they seemed to genuinely care about each other, Lee just sits there, manipulates, and spreads cruelty. And as for the times where Marie and May were fighting/being mean etc? Well, I have a theory. Remember in Big Picture Show where we see that Lee has a third eye? You know who else has a third eye for no good reason…?
DEMONS. LEE IS AN ACTUAL DEMONIC MENACE WHO BRAINWASHES HER SISTERS JUST TO MAKE OTHERS FEEL MISERABLE. AND EVEN THEN SHE MISTREATS HER “MINIONS” TOO.
And remember when Nazz kissed Double D and Eddy on the cheek? Compare that to how they react to the Kanker’s kisses. How big those lips are… that specific shade of red… the way the Ed boys become horrified every single time…
THE LIP STICK IS CREATED BY LEE AND HAS DARK MAGIC INSIDE OF IT. THATS MY THEORY. IM STICKING TO IT. SCREW YOU LEE.
Everybody in the “lol why” tier it’s just an object that isn’t Plank or I haven’t seen those episodes yet. So I can’t really give my thoughts yet.
Rolf’s animals get their own tier. They have an amazing caretaker :3
HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH DORK DORK DORK DORK ITS KEVIN DJDJUDUFHDBRJRIRID.
He’s just a jerk lol. AND NO I DO NOT SHIP HIM WITH ANYBODY. NOT NAZZ. NOT DOUBLE D. ESPECIALLY NOT DOUBLE D. NOBODY.
except his bike.
Eddy’s brother (whose name is apparently Tarry??) is also a jerk. But he makes a pretty cool antagonist. And he just makes me like Eddy even more.
also i feel like he would be a tumblr sexy man
Mildred blinks at you :D
Plank is an immortal God who will one day rule the world. This is my canon.
I REALLY wish we could have seen more of what happened to Jonny post Big Picture Show. Him being “The Gourd” and having a villain arc just sounds super fun. Other than that he’s just a weird kid. I like him.
Don’t let Jimmy fool y’all. He’s a lil maniac. He probably gets it from Sarah. And it’s always a shocker to me given how much he acts so innocent and harmless. He’s a pretty neat anti hero.
I KNOW I SHOULD HATE SARAH. But I feel like there’s more to her than meets the eye. I honestly think her parents taught her the hate her big brother. If they weren’t around, she probably wouldn’t been to mean to him. Making me feel extremely sympathetic for both of them. And at least she looks after Jimmy, giving her redeeming qualities.
To be honest this show needs a character like Nazz. Everything has to be balanced out with someone who isn’t constantly out to get something, being mean, or acting like a weirdo. But yes, she does have her moments, which are rightfully deserved. Plus, I just really like her chill and hippie way of going about.
Marie Kanker and May Kanker are being ranked together. The potential they have to be redeemed is through the roof. They deserve so much better. If Lee wasn’t around to mess with their heads, I think they would be truly happy. Marie could spend her days jamming out and living on the edge, while May is cute and ditzy and a voice of reason at times. Plus both of their hairstyles are really eye candy for me.
The Ed boys are also being ranked together. What else can I say that hasn’t been said already? The way these three bounce off of each other is extremely enjoyable and definitely gets good laughs out of me. I know they have their moments where they aren’t so friendly, but you don’t always have to get along with someone for you to still love them. And when the gentle giant goof, the soft hearted nerd, and the selfish man with a heart of gold do get along, it’s sweeter than jawbreakers :)
AND NOW WE HAVE ARRIVED AT THE TRUE GOD. THE LIGHT IN DARK TIMES. THE DIAMOND WITHIN THE DIRT. THE ONLY BOY ON THE SHOW WITH A GOOD HAIRCUT.
ROLF. THE SON OF A SHEPHERD.
Rolf is hands down one of if not the best side character in animation history. He’s a goober for one thing. But a goober that’s gets us to take him seriously. You do not mess with this man. His pride is enough to break you leg. And yet, he still manages to be one of the nicest characters in the show. He’s so friendly and upbeat! And when he isn’t… his dark side is also a fun time.
And another thing, he’s a fish out of water. Which also allows the viewer to feel sympathetic for him. Like in Wish You Were Ed. Seeing Rolf cry is something you’d never think you’d see, but when you do, it makes you feel a somber emotion you had no idea existed. It’s amazing.
yeah, Rolf is amazing.
Also I asked my sister if she wanted to dance to That’s My Horse at her wedding and she said no. What a loser right?
So uh, that’s my list. Hope you enjoyed.
Go hug a chicken.
#ed edd n eddy#eene#eene rolf#the kanker sisters#marie kanker#may kanker#cartoon network#tier list#ranking#iNmYoWnPeRsOnAlHeAdCaNoN#my thoughts 💭#my opinion#I hate you lee
13 notes
·
View notes
Note
I so agree with your statement about Season 3… I didn’t even finished it, it was too much. And the shippers here didn’t help either lmao. My boy needs no woman and certainly not an ex death watch.
He was doing fine till now, they made him look like a damsel in distress so SHE can save him, she can be a goddamn good girl… Like her past is erased from everyone minds? They have amnesia? And he became a second character in his own show?? Yup, no, call me when everything became normal again
I know it’s not technically canon yet but it reminds me a lot of when a character’s entire purpose is just to support their partner in a ship. Also people can ship what they want of course but in what way has anything between them been explicitly romantic in canon? They’ve just been working together on missions and barely talking about anything besides the matter at hand. I saw more desire for a relationship between Boba and Din than this. If they decide to suddenly say Bo and Din had feelings for each other the whole time in the two episodes we have left I’ll be so mad. Omera was Din’s obvious love interest if they were going to give him one, but no lets put him with the white terrorist lady who insulted his and others entire existence.
Also people forget that Din isn’t stupid. The fandom likes to make himbo jokes sure but Din is incredibly smart, he spent however many years working as a top rated bounty hunter, one of the most dangerous jobs in the galaxy, Din got beaten up all the time but he also had so many wins and badass moments, they balanced each other out so he wasn’t invincible but he wasn’t incompetent either. Most of Din this season is just him needing to be saved or aided by Bo-Katan so far, because apparently SHE is the Mandalorian everybody suddenly needs to use their brains or they’ll combust into flames or something I guess 🙄 and spoiler warning for the next episode under the cut.
So leaks say that Din gets captured by Moff Gideon at the end of the episode and Bo has to rally Mandalorians to go save him. Man how much more impactful would that be if Din was Manda’lor, Bo had the chance now to become it with him gone, but she actively chooses instead to help him after being bitter and aggressive towards him all season, thereby giving her growth that doesn’t actually mean turning her character back 180 out of nowhere. I like the idea of Din getting captured on its own and coming face to face with Gideon again but after he’s done literally nothing all season and has had no personality other than “help Bo”? That’s insulting af, Din just looks more and more helpless. Like again what if he was Manda’lor and trying to prove his worth both to Mandalorians and himself? We could have gotten a really cool scene where he questions his abilities as a father and as a leader, wondering if other types of Mandalorians would even come for him and ending the season with an episode about Din finally coming into his own with the darksaber while other Mandalorians rally behind him to defeat Moff Gideon once and for all.
But no. It’s probably gonna be a chance to display how Bo absolutely deserves another chance at ruling after proving nothing about how she is different from last time while Din is just there as bait and they’ll kiss or some shit afterwards. God this season has turned out so bad, I really am hoping they don’t go that route and make it somehow worse. I don’t blame people for hopping out now.
60 notes
·
View notes
Text
As a sort of companion to the earlier post; I did write this one before that one but they touch on slightly different things.
One of the reasons, to me, that any version (ancient or modern) that cuts out the gods for realisms sake just isn't at all as satisfying, is the interplay of divine and human action that keep the war going.
(Another is the plain fact of how there are things especially in the Iliad that cannot happen as they do if you don't include the gods.)
The quarrel at the divine wedding causes the Judgment causes the start of the war, yes. And, again, my preferred version for the ultimate background for all this is definitely that Zeus has at least partially some cosmic reason; the overpopulation and/or the ending of the heroic era. But I could even take the "the war, by being centered around and because of Helen, is the only way he can give her kleos and this is why he planned it". I don't think I've ever seen that in an adaptation, but I think it'd be a very interesting angle to take!
But after Paris and Helen comes to Troy, you also have Aulis. The second muster, specifically. Agamemnon commits hubris, and if he wants to go to war, his payment will be his daughter (whether or not Artemis rescues her). It's the choice not just of Agamemnon, but all the men present, prompted by mortal failing (Agamemnon's) to take the action that will allow them to actually go to war.
Make no mistake, of course especially Hera and Athena would do everything to make sure the war happens. They would do so regardless of whether Zeus has an ulterior motive known only to him (~the plan of Zeus~ as it were).
But human action and intent matters.
Achilles "saves" the Achaean war effort a couple years in, after having gotten to see Helen and then stopping a mutiny.
Achilles is, again, the cause the late stage of the war (the Iliad) turns out as it does. It's his request of his mother that sparks the events in all their deadliness.
Again, of course, if Zeus has an ulterior plan this fits in well, but would he have needed this, as it happens in the Iliad? It's Achilles and for Achilles and because of Achilles, that it happens.
Because of Achilles, the truce around Paris and Menelaos' duel, and the agreement predicated on its outcome, simply would never happen. Yes, it requires divine intervention to assure it's derailed, but it was human action that made sure the solution the truce might have offered becomes impossible.
Human action to murder sleeping men, more than once. Human action almost topples Troy 'before its time'; it requires divine intervention to keep at bay. And yes, that might be prolonging the war, but if men have a fated time of death apparently cities can too.
Divine intervention assures the cruelty of the trick with the Horse, certainly.
Human action assures the horror of the sack itself, of the murder of any male inhabitant who cannot get away, of the sexual assault of any women that, too, can't get away. The sack is of human make, and human design. That cruelty is mortal and human alone and frankly - what extra years of war is as horrifying as the sack itself is?
Would always be.
The gods, again and again, delays Troy's fall or makes sure the war continues, certainly. But they also grieve for favourites or sons killed, wanting to rescue them if they can (sometimes they can).
What compassion is there from the Achaeans for the Trojans, during or after the fall? Literally none. The gods, those not explicitly on the Achaean side, have more sympathy, even if they can't (or won't, especially for fate-related reasons) do anything at that point.
There's surely a balance to be struck, I feel, between "ohh helpless mortals stuck in a seemingly never-ending war of horror because of eldritch, uncaring gods have their own agendas" and the very human agency and action (and cruelty, so, so much cruelty) that also is present. Plus the genuine and honest caring and grief for at least some humans a number of the gods provably display in the story.
10 notes
·
View notes
Note
there are three constants: the sun, the moon, and alhaitham’s ability to grind kaveh's gears. an unfortunate reality in its own right, though the architect ought to be grateful for any semblance of stability and reliability in his life, considering how often things (and people) seem to slip through his fingers.
the past is complicated, and relationships even more so. a stranger turns into a best friend, and a best friend to…well. whatever this is now. in an odd way, it reminds kaveh of the thesis he once ripped up and pieced back together all those years ago — still comprehensible, though far removed from its original state.
but even in the face of never-ending arguments and bickering, there is an indisputable truth to contend with: alhaitham has done for him what others have not. and though kaveh is loathe to admit it, he finds that the most unshakeable part of his life is a friend that will never change — for better or for worst.
he waits for alhaitham to step out before sneaking into the other's bedroom. it’s there that kaveh places a bottle of wine on the nightstand, along with a book titled, “In Other Words — A Unique Collection of “Untranslatable,” Culturally-Bound Words Across Teyvat.”
A note is stuck to its cover:
“I skimmed through this and thought you'd find it interesting. ”
With a P.S at the bottom:
“In the spirit of the New Year, drink to whatever it is that makes you happy in your own time. Just make sure you wash your glass after. I've already done the dishes.”
Signed with a flourish,
- Kaveh
Oh.
I shouldn't be so surprised, considering how sentimental the man is, but finding that Kaveh has obtained gifts for me still takes me off-balance a bit. Perhaps I have only my history with him to blame for my lack of expectation, in which case he has succeeded at springing this gift on me. And how thoughtful it is, as befitting the man: a copy of In Other Words, which despite the resources at my disposable I had had yet to get my hands on the most recent version; and a rather delectable-looking vintage that based on its appearance will do well for welcoming the beginning of the new year. Despite the words on the note, he must've spent some time finding and procuring these items, and for a moment I wonder how much he spent on them. If he hadn't saved up beforehand... well, it makes me curious, and hopeful that he was able to get a good commission preceding their acquisition. And that, of course, he didn't spend all of said commission on these gifts.
I like to think that after so long I have become well-versed in the particular language that is Kaveh, and for all that we (more often than not) rile each other up after our fall-out, we still have at least a shadow of the friendship we once shared. This present wishing me a cordial New Year's is evidence of that on his end. After everything, he still cares in some way, shape, or form. It's... kind of nice, these little moments in which I realize all over again that our brotherhood, though tattered and torn to shreds, was not irreparably burned to ashes.
And now I don't feel as nervous or silly about the new foreign toolset I snuck in his nightstand. If he hadn't gifted me anything, he would've most likely felt embarrassment at having nothing with which to reciprocate as well as believed he'd incurred a debt and attempted to pay it back and, well, that's one headache I definitely don't need. Apparently our timing lined up well in the end, and how funny is that? (I don't think I'll be able to keep a straight face however if that Fontainian curve ruler makes its way into his hair with the rest of his architectural accountrements. No doubt it works well for him, and it still gets me every time that it does so well. It's very Kaveh, now that I think about it.)
I chuckle as I take both presents and hunt down a clean goblet before pouring myself a glass and sitting down to crack open the book. Now I want to see his reaction to the toolset if only for the look on his face.
"Mm, happy New Year indeed."
#🌿 altruistic architect (kaveh).#aesthetecomplex#//SORRY THIS IS SO LATE TAT was not expecting a kaveh in my inbox :plead:#//idr if it's canon or hc that kaveh's hairpieces and earrings double as tools but if you agree. new hairpieces for kaveh lol XD
5 notes
·
View notes
Text
second date
Summary: Apollo is feeling a little under the weather. He's not quite up to that lunch date after all. It's a shame, really...
Read it below, or here on AO3!
“Herr Forehead,” Klavier says, sing-song, when he picks up the phone. “What an unexpected but pleasant surprise, to hear from you so early. How can I help you?”
“Um, hey,” Apollo says. He tries to modulate his voice to normalcy, but he must miss the mark, because Klavier immediately makes a soft sound of concern. “Morning. About—about lunch.”
“…Ja?”
“I,” Apollo says, haltingly, “I, uh—sorry, but can I take a raincheck?”
“Ja, of course, if you need one. There will be other lunches. Is everything alright?”
Apollo doesn’t have to tell him. He could just lie. He could make anything up. But it’s only, like, their second date, and Apollo was terrified to ask if they could postpone because everything still seems so new and fragile, and he’s so relieved that Klavier was just cool about it that he blurts without thinking, “I have cramps so bad I can’t stay standing, and I’m out of painkillers.”
He flinches as soon as it leaves his mouth. Yeah, Klavier knows he’s trans, but knowing that and talking about it are completely different beasts. And Apollo didn’t mean to call him to whine or make excuses. Does he even—
“Oh, Schatz,” Klavier croons. “You poor thing. I’ll run to the store for you. Can I bring you anything else at the same time? Some food to reheat for lunch, later?”
“I—I would appreciate that, but you don’t have to—“
“Nonsense. What painkillers do you need?”
“I get naproxen sodium. Um. It’s just the generic version of Aleve.” Apollo sighs, then winces again when the movement of his chest tugs at the ache in his abdomen. “Ow. You really don’t have to buy me food.”
“And yet.”
“Honestly, Klavier, I don’t have an appetite anyway—“
“Ja, maybe not now, but what about later when the painkillers kick in and you’ve already missed breakfast?”
“Well—“
“I’ll be there soon, Schatzi.”
Klavier hangs up.
Apollo stares at the ceiling from his blanket-nest on the bed. After a minute, he remembers to let the phone fall from his hand. Onto the pillow—he doesn’t really have the energy to roll over to return it to the bedside. And Three is curled up next to his hip in a little kitty-donut, so he would get squished if Apollo moved, and besides, moving hurts like a motherfucker right now. Might as well try to keep his body still and stretched, with his ragged hot-pack balanced carefully on his groin.
Goddammit. He was looking forward to that date.
There will be other lunches.
…At least Klavier wasn’t mad.
He fuzzes out a little bit. Drifts off, as much as he can with gritted teeth and throbbing pain between his hips. The hot-pack is doing its best, and Three’s anxious purring is a little comforting, but neither are any replacement for modern chemistry. Fuck, Apollo wishes he’d gotten around to errands at the drugstore. But there’s too many things in the cupboard he needs to stock up on, and the price tag of the visit’s become daunting. Maybe, if Klavier’s picking up some painkillers for him, he can push it off until another case provides some income…
Apparently he fades out so thoroughly that he sleeps through Klavier coming into his apartment. He wakes to Three hissing, tail bristling despite his refusal to leave Apollo’s side. Through bleary eyes, he can see Klavier peeking in the bedroom door. Apollo fumbles to stroke a hand down his cat’s spine, and Three quiets to discontented grumbles.
“S’just Klavier,” he mumbles. Klavier crosses the room and perches on the edge of the mattress. Three growls some more, which Klavier ignores; instead he gives Apollo a fond, sympathetic smile.
“So it is. Hi there, baby.”
“Hi.” Apollo lets out a shuddering sigh when Klavier dips to kiss his brow. It still hurts to take a breath that deep. A feather-light touch graces Apollo’s far shoulder, but Klavier doesn’t try to turn him; he just rubs his thumb affectionately at the fabric of Apollo’s pajama shirt. “How’d you get in?”
“Very easily. You need to hide your spare key better.”
“Mngh.”
“Although I’m not sure there’s anything worth stealing in here, come to think of it,” Klavier says, sunnily. Asshole. He should save the rude commentary for times when Apollo has the fortitude to snap back. But he’ll forgive Klavier this once, because he can hear the rattle of a pill bottle in the bag over Klavier’s elbow. “I brought your drugs.”
“Yay.”
“Shall I get you a glass of water to take them with?”
“Please.”
Klavier kisses his forehead again, then rises, leaving the bag on the bed. Apollo briefly considers trying to take the pills dry, because at this point he’s fucking desperate, but honestly, he feels close enough to throwing up already. It’s not worth accidentally making himself retch to get the meds down thirty seconds faster.
And Klavier is quick about it. He’s back soon, with a glass and one of Apollo’s water bottles from the kitchen both filled. He puts the bottle on the nightstand and offers Apollo the glass.
“Do you need help sitting up?”
“No,” Apollo grumbles. Klavier’s babying him enough already. He hauls himself up, and of course his abdomen pangs sharply. Klavier coos with concern over his full-body wince. “Augh. I’m—I’m fine.”
“You really are a poor dear.” Klavier shuffles through the bag to produce the pill bottle. “Let’s get these down quickly, ja?”
No need to tell Apollo twice. He swallows the pill down as soon as Klavier hands it to him. Half the glass of water for that, then the other half just to hydrate himself.
He manages a sound of confused annoyance when the back of Klavier’s hand finds its way to his forehead.
“Just checking,” Klavier says. He flips his hand back over and strokes Apollo’s hair back. Apollo’s eyes slide closed involuntarily. “Just the cramps?”
“Huh?”
“No other symptoms, just cramps? Did you do the rebound test?”
“What? No. I know what cramps feel like, Klavier, my appendix didn’t explode.”
“Hm.”
Two fingers dig into Apollo’s gut. He yelps, scaring Three into scrambling around to his other side before Apollo can fumble to swat Klavier’s hand away. The extra pain recedes with the pressure. “Ow! Okay, there’s your fucking rebound test, it’s still not my appendix.”
Klavier murmurs some half-hearted apology. He brings his feet up on the bed to curl closer to Apollo, petting at his hair again. “I’ve never seen you taken out of commission so thoroughly before. Just a little worried.”
“…Doesn’t happen too often these days.” It’s impossible to stay mad at him. Apollo lets his face tip into Klavier’s touch. Klavier wordlessly coaxes Apollo’s head down to his shoulder. “S’okay. Really. Meds’ll kick in and I’ll be fine.”
“Mm. If you say so.”
“Thanks for bringing them,” Apollo mumbles. Klavier smells nice, and his hair is soft. Kinda makes up for how terrible being upright is right now. “M’probably not very good company right now, though.”
“That’s alright. I didn’t come over expecting to be entertained.” Klavier makes the undignified kissy sounds of a person soliciting a cat’s attention. “If I get too bored, perhaps I’ll ask Herr Drei to play host. What do you say, Kätzchen?”
Three meows unenthusiastically. Apollo is just impressed he’s starting to answer to Klavier’s dumb nicknames.
“Seriously. You don’t have to stick around.”
“Am I being kicked out?”
“You want to stay?”
“Yes. Is that so surprising?” Klavier’s hands wrap around his shoulder and his hip, and Apollo finds himself lowered carefully back down to the mattress. “I like spending time with you.”
“I’m crabby and barely awake.”
“Not too different from the aftermath of any given case, then.”
Apollo rallies the strength to crack an eye open to glare, and twist a hand up to pinch Klavier’s arm. Klavier catches his fingers and kisses his knuckles.
“I’ll go, if you want to mope in peace. But if it’s the same to you either way, I’d rather make myself useful to you for the morning.”
Apollo doesn’t really know what to say to that. He would have thought—thought Klavier had better things to do. More fun. Big rockstar with all of his rockstar friends and hobbies. What’s he doing spending a morning in Apollo’s dump of an apartment when Apollo’s not even functional enough to hang out for real? Not that Apollo wants him gone, but…
“I’ll have to go home after lunch to walk Vongole, that’s all,” Klavier says. He cards his fingers through Apollo’s messy hair. Apollo can’t help but lean into the touch even more. “But I did bring food for both of us, so nobody has to cook or go anywhere.”
“…What’d you get?”
“Instant meals from the freezer section. Some burrito bowls.”
Well, at least he didn’t shell out for takeout to go lukewarm on Apollo’s counter for the next few hours. Apollo mumbles, “Thanks.”
Klavier hums. He lowers himself to lie alongside Apollo. “I can stay?”
“‘F you’re sure.”
“It’s hardly a life sentence, mein Lieb. You don’t need to worry so much.” Klavier’s lips press softly to his cheek and linger. Against Apollo’s skin, he murmurs, “I’ve been bored for worse reasons.”
“What’s your reason now?”
“I like you.” Completely matter-of-fact, no hesitation. Klavier laughs when heat climbs to Apollo’s cheeks. “I was looking forward to our date, you know. This isn’t quite the same as a nice bistro, but good plans have to be flexible, ja?”
“Not much of a date now…” Klavier kisses his other cheek. Apollo’s stubborn sullenness crumbles immediately. “…I was looking forward to it too. S’too bad.”
“Fortunately, I was already planning to ask you out again, so we’ll be able to rectify it.” Klavier’s next laugh is more incredulous, as Apollo turns redder. “I told you. There will be other lunches.”
“R-right.”
“Were you not expecting that?”
“I don’t know!”
“What did you think I’ve been doing with you?”
“You think I’m thinking this morning? My body is trying to kill me,” Apollo snaps. “I made sure I wasn’t gonna stand you up, and then I turned my brain off.”
“Ach, I do appreciate that.” Klavier’s hand skates down his body, making Apollo shiver with instinctive anticipation and open his mouth to object, but all Klavier touches is the ragged hot-pack. He presses his palm to it. “This is a little lukewarm. Does it need recharging? If you direct me to the cables, I could—”
Apollo rolls his eyes. “It’s not electric.”
“Oh?”
“S’just rice. It doesn’t charge, it gets microwaved.”
“Well, then. Shall I refresh it for you?”
Apollo swallows the urge to whine that he wants Klavier to stay put. He will feel better if the hot-pack is reheated. Klavier will apparently come back to cuddle after that. No loss. Just tough it out for a minute. “…One minute on max. The cover comes off.”
“Does the Kätzchen need anything, as long as I’m up? Is he fed?”
…Is he? The first twenty minutes or so of the morning were kind of a pained blur. Is the memory of opening a can and putting it in the bowl real, or just dredged from another day out of habit?
“Um. I think I fed him before I called you.” Apollo lolls his head around to squint down at Three. The cat is busy glowering at Klavier again, across Apollo’s body now. That probably answers that, actually. Apollo’s not sure it’s physically possible for him to be pathetic enough that Three wouldn’t be screaming in his and Klavier’s faces right now if he hadn’t been fed. He has a routine, Apollo’s horrible body be damned. “Could check for the empty can by the sink if you wanna be sure.”
Klavier kisses his cheek with an agreeable murmur, takes the pack, and rises from the bed. Apollo grits his teeth against the surge of pain. Even the lukewarm pack is better than no pack, even if that’s just some kind of placebo effect. He rolls over and curls around Three’s warm little body. Three, satisfied with Klavier’s temporary departure, nuzzles closer and snuggles up against his stomach. Over the rumble of his purring, Apollo can hear the creak of floorboards under Klavier’s feet. The metallic clatter of the microwave door, open and closed. The faint hum of its operation.
I like spending time with you. I like you. I was looking forward to our date.
Apollo doesn’t have that much experience with relationships. Non-zero, but not an impressive history. He likes Klavier—he likes Klavier a lot, an embarrassing amount, especially for someone who’s so fucking insufferable when he chooses to be. And he knew Klavier must like him at least enough to put up with a stupidly long courting process to get it through Apollo’s head that he wanted to date. Even so. Apollo hadn’t expected that Klavier would want to keep him company on a bad day like this, and frankly, he wouldn’t have expected how much he wants Klavier to keep him company on a bad day like this. He’s not always good with… vulnerability. He might not be great at keeping his emotions in check in public, but he prefers to lick his wounds in private when possible. It drives Clay up the wall, to hunt him down and lecture him for the thousandth time on letting people help.
But Klavier showed up and Apollo wanted him to stay. He hurts and he’s tired and his skin is crawling with dysphoria, he doesn’t have a binder or even a sports bra on, but fuck if he doesn’t want Klavier here anyway.
What did you think I’ve been doing with you?
Apollo’s not entirely sure what he thinks they’re doing. He feels like maybe they’re both in a little farther over their heads than is appropriate for having been on one real date.
“Ich bin wieder da,” Klavier says, as he crosses back over the bedroom’s threshold on soft feet. He nudges Apollo into uncurling so he can lay the hot pack flat over his gut again. Apollo shudders with the sweet relief of real heat. His hand wraps around Klavier’s retreating wrist without much forethought. Klavier pauses, then turns his palm to press against Apollo’s. “I found the can by the sink. The cat was fed. Looked like he has plenty of water, as well.”
“Good,” Apollo mumbles. He tugs at Klavier’s hand. “Get down here.”
“As you wish.”
Apollo could make fun of him for the mushy reference, but his heart’s not in it. Not when Klavier is crawling back onto his shitty old mattress to stretch out alongside Apollo, his front pressed to Apollo’s side, and he’s warm and solid and smells nice. Apollo squirms his arm out from between them to wrap around Klavier’s shoulders, and Klavier settles into place with a contented hum. Three grumbles a little. He seems less irritable with Apollo as a physical barrier between him and Klavier, though. It’s certainly comfortable enough for Apollo to lie between them.
“Hope you brought your phone to keep busy, because I might go back to sleep,” he mutters. Klavier huffs a quiet laugh.
“Could just use yours, it’s right here.”
“No. Clay sends me weirdo texts sometimes, you aren’t using my phone.”
“Probably not any worse than what I get from the band.”
“Did you really not bring your phone?” Apollo bites back a sigh. “Uh, I’ve got books on the shelf, I dunno if any of them—“
“Shh. I’m just teasing, baby. My phone’s right here.” Klavier kisses his jaw. “Not expecting to be entertained, remember? Don’t worry about me. You just lie back and rest.”
Apollo tips his face enough to trade a fumbling kiss back to Klavier’s brow. Klavier shifts up to receive the next one with his lips, catching Apollo’s jaw to cradle it gently. Warmth buzzes through Apollo’s body from his cheeks down to his toes. He squeezes Klavier with the arm around his shoulders.
“…Thank you. For coming over.”
“Of course,” Klavier murmurs. He rests his forehead against Apollo’s.
“‘M really sorry about the date.”
“Don’t be. You hardly flipped a self-destruct switch in your body on purpose. Or did you hate my choice for the café that much, hm?”
“N—“
“So drastic. Just say so next time.”
Apollo laughs despite himself, and it aches, but at least it aches less. Painkillers must be kicking in.
“You’re so handsome when you smile,” Klavier says, tracing the corner of Apollo’s lips with the pad of his thumb. Heat floods Apollo’s face in earnest this time. Klavier cups his cheek again, palm pressed to all that warmth. “My lovely beau.”
“Sweet-talker.”
“I mean every word.”
“Didn’t say you didn’t,” Apollo mumbles. His eyes drift closed. “Wake me up in an hour?”
“What for?”
“I’unno. We can watch a movie on my tablet or something. I should feel more like a human by then.”
Klavier strokes his cheek with a thumb. “An hour and a half, maybe. Two.”
“Klavier.”
“You’re so out of it that you slept through me breaking into your apartment.”
Apollo scrunches his nose. That’s… true. “Quietly.”
“I knocked and called for you at the door, first.”
Oh. Oops.
“An hour and a half, at least,” Klavier repeats. He pets Apollo’s hair back from his temple. “A solid ninety minutes. I hope you’ll feel better when you wake, but if you don’t, we’ll figure something out. Take it easy, Liebling.”
“Okay,” Apollo sighs. Hour and a half. Fine. That should be plenty of time for the painkillers to kick in, and maybe still have enough time before lunch to do something slightly more interesting with Klavier. That works. He lets himself slump back against the pillows and blankets and savor the feeling of Klavier snuggling in after him. His thoughts start to fizzle out again. Just an hour and a half. Then he can…
…Wake up three hours later, with Klavier snoring into his shoulder. Three has climbed on top of Apollo’s body and lies sprawled across him, his face shoved into Klavier’s armpit as he purrs. They’re both dead weight on top of him. Apollo’s arm is asleep.
He blinks groggily at the ceiling and wonders why he’s smiling so hard it hurts.
46 notes
·
View notes
Note
for the writing ask game: 13, 17, 18. hi :)
hegg (hi egg :])
(ask game)
13. What is a subject matter that is incredibly difficult for you write about? What is easy?
Oddly specific but characters having their growth moment, like the moment words become action in a way that doesn't feel like I'm having the characters say they'll do something and then just doing it immediately after. the subject matter of Doing Things Naturally
I've been told I write good action/tension scenes!! They're fun to write, kinda easy? Hard to tell now that I think about it but I enjoy it lots
17. Talk to me about the minutiae of your current WIP. Tell me about the lore, the history, the detail, the things that won’t make it in the text.
THE THING THAT WON'T MAKE IT INTO TEXT: It's from third person limited Ferryman POV so none of Gabriel's internal struggle is making it through to the reader intact. Everything is viewed through the Ferryman's biased lens so I can only drop clues about what Gabriel truly feels and hope it's not too obvious or OOC. He almost pities them, he's exhausted physically and mentally, yet is forced to balance what he shares and does not with this intensely devoted individual who built their worldview and self-worth on following a divine fate that is no longer present. He wants to share the revelations he's had, to share what he views as a beautiful realization of free will because he feels they deserve to know, and yet he doesn't want to break them.
I've sat on this WIP for a while because I really need to THINK about how they'd interact, how Gabriel tiptoes around things, and how the Ferryman takes everything he says and does. they're neat
Another thing I don't think is fully stated is just how much the Ferryman loves and respects the ferry!! She's their companion at sea! Friend and equal! Some of their care shines through but they care for the ferry a lot more than they seem (at the point I'm at with this right now, anywho)
18. Choose a passage from your writing. Tell me about the backstory of this moment. How you came up with it, how it changed from start to end.
(x)
The thought of V2 taking revenge on V1 possessed me and I HAD to do something with it. Needed V1 to feel afraid, to suddenly no longer be the top dog in Hell, for its actions to have consequences. I listened to Daisy Bell on loop a normal amount while drawing the Daisy Bell comic but I find that I prefer writing over drawings when it comes to certain things, and I can write faster than I draw, so I wrote out the ideas I didn't have the motivation to draw.
I love writing action scenes so the whole showdown between V1 and V2 was really fun and something I don't think I could've drawn. It made me think more about how V2 felt about getting dismembered by its predecessor (Hint: not happy about that!!) ! It's the culmination of its fury, and the beginnings of V1's fear of being injured and unmade so wholly. I'm not sure I thought in-depth about V1's relationship with terror before this scene and it definitely became a more apparent concept from that point on. But ooohh I do want to write more of this AU and further explore that terror!
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Cross was surprised to find out that Zero had set up a domain as a place for voidsent to flee from the archfiends, or any other cruel masters they’d been forced to serve. Marking them as “hers” was a bit...well, Cross wasn’t sure about it, but she was glad that at least Zero and the others weren't going to attack them.
Zero was curious enough to follow Cross around as she made the rounds, talking with the voidsent in an attempt to gain information. Her authority in this domain certainly helped.
(Cross kept glancing at the statue in the middle of the courtyard as they moved around. There was something about it...a figure standing, shield raised, against a foe. Zero claimed she didn’t know where it had come from, but...it made Cross wonder. Maybe it was a memory long-buried? Zero was only part voidsent, by her own admission.)
And then the wind fiend had shown up, dragging her domain with her. She admitted to having eaten of a dragon’s aether, identified Vrtra, and decided she wanted to feast on more of it.
Well, Cross didn't give her the chance, and neither did Zero. While Cross wasn’t able to trigger an Echo vision (apparently she needed more practice getting that to work), Zero did collapse, which gave them cause to move -- not only out of Barbariccia’s domain, but out of the Thirteenth entirely.
Zero recovered her strength, and while she did have a brief scare with Nidhana, thinking her a fiend, she was soon up and about and having a look at Radz-at-Han with Cross and Vrtra.
(”We do have other kinds of meals you could eat,” Cross said as they left the eatery behind. “Fruit and vegetables don’t come from living creatures, just local flora. If you’re interested in something more hearty, we keep livestock. And that doesn’t even cover the sweets we can make!”
“Hm.” Zero didn’t seem to know what to think of that.)
Learning that they didn’t think much of tomestones made Cross look sheepish.
(”There’s old stories and information on them,” Cross explained as they left the markets. “Some people find value in that, and exchange them for things adventurers like me would want or need. Like better weapons, or armor.” She nodded back to her black mage staff, back on her back. She hadn’t been able to use it against Barbariccia, on account of how fast-paced the battle was, but she liked the look of the Manderville weapon. Besides, the staff was more comfortable against her back than a bow.
“Voidsent have no use for such things,” Zero said dully. “You mortals are...strange.”
“To you, I don’t doubt it. Everyone’s a little strange to somebody.”)
After the tour, apparently Zero decided that she needed to balance things out by giving them something in return -- a history lesson of the Thirteenth, and why everything had gone so wrong there...and what her power to turn voidsent into crystals was. It was something the heroes of eld had been able to do, her mother included...before the Flood of Darkness.
Calling the primals “eidolons” was interesting, though. There was another word to throw around.
And then, when Zero said she’d given up on saving her world, Y’shtola had to go and throw the half-voidsent’s worldview on its head, by filling her in on everything that had happened to make the worlds as they were, and caused her world to fall.
(Something about her “can’t save a lost world” attitude dredged up memories of Ardbert. It made Cross wonder, but she kept such thoughts to herself. Zero was her own person, after all, and Cross wasn’t looking to become whole soul that Azem was. That wasn’t her goal in life.)
The look of shock on Zero’s face as they filled her in had Cross grinning, and she made sure to bring up the two on the First who were also looking for a way to restore their home, if they could.
(Cross made sure that Zero knew she planned to linger in Radz-at-Han for a time before she left, after that conversation. “It’s like I told you -- I’m picking up those tomestones for gear, and currently, the best gear I can find is right here in the city bazaar. If you ever want to come find me, I’ll likely be somewhere around there, if I’m not out scouring the world.”
Zero gave Cross a long look, then nodded. “I will keep that in mind. Thank you.”
“Freely given,” Cross added. At Zero’s startled confusion, Cross explained, “You’re a stranger here, and if you need advice or help or anything, I’m willing to give that to you freely. I don’t need to hold any debts over you. But if it helps, you can consider it a continued deposit towards what we’re planning to do on your world.”
Zero stared, wide-eyed.
“Think on it? Please?”)
Cross hoped Zero would think about it. Living people didn’t function the same way voidsent did, after all. Not entirely, at least.
#cross' rambling#cross sylvan#miqo'te warrior of light#miqo'te oc#miqo'te wol oc#warrior of light oc#wol oc#endwalker 6.2 spoilers
1 note
·
View note
Note
💕 for wider Boueibuverse? If possible? If too much, pick one series you want to cover!
Thanks :D
Ohhh, boy, we are opening a can of worms!
Boueibu
KinAtsu - This is the major one for me. I love this ship. They are just so sweet together, and they are just such a fun ship to work with because you can do so much with them. Whether I want to do fluffy domestic stuff or have all kinds of angst and drama, these guys can provide. Good ship, 10/10.
IoRyuu - This is good, but it is the vanilla of Boueibu ships. It's inoffensive, it goes with pretty much everything, it's even enjoyable on its own, but it's not the most exciting thing we have on offer. Fine, but not my go-to choice.
AkoIo - Now we're getting into the more exciting stuff. There's just something fascinating to me about Akoya's crush on Io. There are just so many angles to the dynamic - Akoya's pride versus his vulnerability, Io's avarice versus his kinder side, the way the two of them being together would mess with the dynamic they have with Ryuu… just endless possibility for fun there.
AkoRyuu - The same kind of fun approached from a different direction. This time we've got their ongoing rivaly lending an edge to what could be a budding attraction. I really want to observe Ryuu realizing how vulnerable Akoya is to flattery and just using it shamelessly to reduce Akoya to a helpless puddle any time he feels like it, and poor Akoya just can't stop himself from coming back for more. Solid choice.
IbuKin - Sweet but with interesting nuances. This is one of those things you could do and make it very wholesome, or then again, you could turn it a few degrees to the left and suddenly you've got some whacked out power dynamics going on. Fun to play with!
Ako/Io/Ryuu - Honestly I think they work best as a threesome. They balance each other so nicely. No matter who needs what, there's always someone in the set who can either provide stimulation or reassurance to the other as needed. I really have a hard time envisioning them other way.
IbuKinAtsu - Because Kinshiro is so emotionally damaged, he might as well have two boyfriends propping up his poor sensitive emotions.
Gora/Beppus - I am just fascinated by how bonkers this whole relationship is. Like, on the one hand, you've got these kids. They apparently have no mother, an absent father, no close friends, but this one time there was this guy who risked his life to save them and was so gentle and kind to them that they could never forget him: the one person to ever show them real unconditional love. And he's a superhero! He's on TV! He's famous! And he paid attention to them! And then this little squirrel comes along and uses that against them - teaches them that love is conditional and the only way they can ever attain the affection of the person they're obsessed with is to hold themselves to an impossible standard of perfection, but if they're good and do all the difficult and degrading things demanded of them, they can have that love as a reward. And then, at the moment they get knocked off their pedestals - the moment they see as their greatest failure - they meet this guy they've been dreaming about, and he tells them that it's okay. They don't have to be perfect. All he ever asked of them was for them to grow up safe and healthy, and they did that. Nothing more is required. He's loved them all along, and they just didn't know it. No wonder they burst into tears.
And then on the other hand you've got this guy who has lived his life in the service of other people. He's been single-handedly raising his brother, looking after the Kurotama, and saving the world all at the same time. What's it going to be like when these two who are so famous and accomplished and popular become part of his life, and he realizes that these celebrities whom other people would do anything to get close to, just want to be close to him? Heady stuff, I'll bet.
Anyway, I don't think they're likely to start dating or anything any time soon, because I think it will be quite some time before the twins can manage to do much more around their idol but stand around gazing in awe, but I'd be interested to see where things are ten years later.
Happy Kiss
Kyotaro/Ata - I mean, that's the obvious one. They wanted for so long to be friends again and just couldn't figure out how to get there. I hope now that they've managed to open up the lines of communication they will be happier.
Kyotaro/Ryouma - I know this seems like it ought to be unbalanced but I don't think it's as bad as all that. Yes, Ryouma seems to spend a lot of time looking after Kyo, but I feel like he is a very anxious person and Kyotaro is his source of security. He's a grounding influence. Just look how sweet and gentle he is with him over that whole cake-eating business in the dice episode.
Ata/Ryouma - Whyyyy didn't these two interact more in canon?
Nanao/Ryouma - Anything to do with Nanao is fun, really. He's a very shippable character.
Nanao/Ichiro - This one is even funner. Ichiro doesn't just bring out Nanao's sadistic side, he seems to positively enjoy it.
Taiju/Nanao - Probably the only "healthy" relationship option for Nanao. Pretty sure Taiju can take whatever he dishes out and throw it right back to him. Which, in a way, takes some of the fun out of things, but it still works.
Ichiro/Taishi - The Ryuu/Io of HK but not as well developed. At least it's fun watching them argue constantly about everything.
Maasa/Taishi - Not just for the line about how Maasa thinks the nerdy ones are cute, but because both of them understand what it is to feel like they have to turn themselves into other people to satisfy some form of social pressure. They should hang out more.
Furanui/Maasa - Not sure how to explain the fascination with this one. Maybe because they're both very repressed characters in their way. They would probably find ways of appealing to each other's baser natures in entertaining ways. (Anyway it seems like magic could solve a lot of Maasa's problems.)
Kyotaro/Karls - I feel like Kyotaro is the only person who really takes Kyo seriously, in terms of recognizing that he is in fact a very capable individual when he has a mind to be, and finding ways to make him use that. They have a good vibe together.
Bonus Content:
Robby/Hatchi - Because they're part of the Boueibuverse too, kinda! Anyway, I don't care what anyone says, they're canon and no one is going to convinve me otherwise. I've gotta finish writing that sequel to "Until He Gets Back" someday.
1 note
·
View note
Text
‘I’m a realist and an optimist, but I swear to you —‘
I’m in love with Derek DiScanio, obviously. This particular collection of scattered of words is so old that I hardly see the need to reintroduce my brand, despite the lengthy hiatuses its writer takes. If you’re still reading this, you know the deal and any explanation of why I am swooning over a pop punk frontman would be redundant, and silly.
As with all of my other other crushes, this one refreshes itself with the release of new music. Over the last month, the vibrant tempos, poetic lyrics, and (obviously) heart-palpitating vocals of State Champ’s latest album have been kindling to my fantasies of former lovers, current fashion choices, and possible road trips. It’s far bolder than I’ve been in years.
I’ve filled half a diary in 2 weeks after not writing for 2 years. I’ve driven miles out of my way just to play through the tracks again. I have had so much energy that when I close my eyes at night, I see sentences instead of sheep. The sheep are wearing flannels and backwards baseball caps and diving off stage left.
I’ve attempted meditation and yoga to calm the manics, but ‘crack a smile, say thanks a lot’ plays on repeat in my brain. Nicky C thinks this album is having the same gloriously torturing effect that Nothing Personal had on me—the ridiculous decisions I’ve been making under its influence certainly match up. Impulsive and impetuous, I will most likely ruin my entire life for the fun of it before ‘that Monday smile’ ever comes. The truth is, this album and its genre turn me inside out and give me no choice but to look at a part of me that I’ve been more comfortable pretending didn’t exist anymore.
‘I’ll be there in the space where I’ve been all along’
How do we assemble the pieces of our soul? If one piece wakes up in Bayside, and another runs barefoot through upstate fields in summer, how do I hold space for both? How can I listen to “Outta My Head” but also finish the housework and lesson plans that need to be done by Wednesday? I have never successfully blended groups of friends, let alone soul fragments. But it has become glaring apparent that if I can’t figure out how to bring them together in the same time and place, I will have to leave one behind permanently. And I can’t. I won’t.
‘You keep saving me, you never batted an eye’
State Champs have declared it a New Age, so maybe I should too. Maybe there never was a void. Maybe I was on a carousel—up and down, around and around, ‘time after time after time after time’—just unsure of how to keep my balance as it spun me about in the best ways. How do we hold onto the rawness of true love and take steps forward? For now, I’ll stick to singing Ben Barlow’s parts and pretend the mention of Hudson doesn’t trigger me. I still have dreams. And this pop punk electricity propels me, however spastically, forward.
Terica.
0 notes
Text
books I’ve read in 2020 (so far) + their ratings
non-fiction
crossing the line: australia’s secret history in the timor sea by kim mcgrath: important research into australia’s theft of oil in timor leste. didn’t rate
hood feminism: notes from the women that a movement forgot by mikki kendall: essay collection dissecting modern feminism, pointing out the exclusionary practices of mainstream feminism and offering new frameworks through which feminism should operate. really recommend. didn’t rate
the uninhabitable earth: life after warming by david wallace-wells: good introduction to environmentalism and the climate disaster. a little too introductory for me but good for those new to the topic. ★★★
homo deus: a brief history of tomorrow by yuval noah harari: it is simply not Sapiens nor as good as Sapiens. Looks at potentials for our future but, thought it was a little poorly researched. Some parts were still interesting though. ★★★
SPQR: a history of ancient rome by mary beard: a little dense at times, but super interesting and detailed look at ancient rome. enjoyed it a lot. ★★★★
sister outsider by audre lorde: collection of audre lorde’s essays and speeches, about feminism, lesbianism, the queer community, being Black and a lesbian ect ect. outstanding, important collection anyone interested in intersectional feminism must read. ★★★★★
all boys aren’t blue by george m. johnson: memoir about johnson’s experiences growing up as a Black gay boy in a poor neighbourhood. Very poignant memoir, written in such accessible language which I liked. guarenteed to get you emotional, another one everyone should read. didn’t rate because it’s so highly personal that felt wrong but highly recommend.
under a biliari tree i born by alice biari smith: memoir by an Aboriginal Australian detailing her life growing up learning traditional Aboriginal ways and how the lives of Indigenous Australian’s have been impacted through the years, specifically in Western Australia. Probably more aimed at school age people but still a 101 I think many Australian’s (and non Australian’s) can benefit from. didn’t rate
classics
maurice by e.m forster: gay man coming of age story in college + themes around class and sexuality. forster’s end note saying he thought it imperative to write a happy ending because we need that in fiction, i love him. ★★★★★
emma by jane austen: read before seeing the movie. loved emma as a character but thought this was okay compared to other Austen I’ve read. ★★★½
perfume by patrick suskind: a man with an incredible sense of smell starts murdering young women to try and bottle their scent for a perfume. weirdest shit I ever read still don’t know how to feel about it. ★★★
the color purple by alice walker: follows the life of Celie, an Black woman living in rural Georgia. deals with her relationship with her sister Nettie, her lover Shug Avery, and with God. this tore my heart to shreds absolutely everyone must read it, like even just for the beautiful writing ALONE. ★★★★
a study in scarlet by arthur conan doyle: its sherlock holmes #1 no further explanation required. not my fave sherlock story, was the weird morman subplot needed? ★★½
dracula by bram stoker: yeah vampires!! this was way easier to read and also way funnier than I expected. we STAN gothic aesthetics and Miss Mina Harker here. ★★★★
fantasy
the diviners by libba bray: teens with magical powers/abilities solving mysteries in 1920′s new york. reread. ★★★★★
lair of dreams by libba bray: the diviners #2. reread. ★★★★½
before the devil breaks you by libba bray: the diviners #3. reread. best one in the series hands down. ★★★★★
the king of crows by libba bray: waited so long for this series ender and it let me down lol. ★★★
clockwork princess by cassandra clare: the infernal devices #3. dont @ me this is my comfort reread series and I was travelling. ★★★★★
we unleash the merciless storm by tehlor kay mejia: we set the dark on fire #2. latinx inspired fantasy about overthrowing a corrupt government with an f/f romance. didn’t like as much as book one but still good, BEST girlfriends ever. ★★★½
wolfsong by t.j klune: basically feral gay werewolves and witches living in a town together. feels like a teen wolf episode but way more gayer. despite that hated the writing style and I don’t like age gap romances so yay the concept no the execution. ★★
the fate of the tearling by erika johansan: the tearling #3. finally finished this series, dunno why everyone loathes the ending so much I thought it was cool. underrated fantasy because it’s very unique. ★★★★
girl, serpent, thorn by melissa bashardoust: persian inspired fantasy about a girl who is cursed by a div to kill anyone she touches. has an f/f romance. bashardoust writes the most aesthetically rich settings I love her. ★★★★
crier’s war by nina varela: reread. f/f enemies to lovers where the main character poses as a handmaiden in order to try and murder the princess whose father killed her family. PEAK gay content literally a modern classic. ★★★★★
we hunt the flame by hafsah faizal: I was so disinterested in this book I barely can describe the plot but basically it’s a prince and a hunter who are enemies but are forced to go looking for this magical artifact together anyway it was boring. ★
ghosts of the shadow market by cassandra clare + others: short story collection set in the shadowhunter world. probably the strongest of her collections but they just don’t hit the same as her full length books. didn’t rate.
a storm of swords: part two by george r.r martin: a song of ice and fire #3. I WILL finish reading these books eventually i swear !! probably the best one yet though. ★★★★
amarah by l.l mcneil: world of linaria #3. high fantasy with politics, dragons, warring races. tolkein/asoiaf vibes if they had more women with agency. didn’t rate because I haven’t decided my feelings on the end yet.
science fiction
This is How You Lose the Time War by Amal El-Mohtar and Max Gladstone: f/f enemies to lovers between spies on rival sides of a time war. good book but writing style wasn’t for me (others love this so eh take my opinion with a grain os salt: ★★★
not your sidekick by c.b lee: main character is from a superhero family but has no powers herself, so she takes an internship working with a superhero corp. has an f/f romance with a villain character. so much fun and super cute
speculative fiction:
the deep by rivers solomon: speculative fiction wherein pregnant African women thrown overboard by slave ships gave birth to babies that became mermaids. main character holds all the memories of her people’s past but runs away after being unable to deal with the burden. about self discovery, intergenerational trauma and the burden of remembering. a little short imo but still all round excellent book ★★★★
how long ‘til black future month? by n.k jemisin: short story collection, many with an afro-futurism focus. hard to explain because there is such a wide variety of stories but this is an AMAZING collection. didn’t rate because I don’t like rating short story collections but wish more people would read it.
mystery
the family upstairs by lisa jewell: woman inherits an english house and starts to unravel the secrets of a mass cult suicide that happened there years ago. loved it because it was wild. ★★★★★
the hand on the wall by maureen johnson: truly devious #3. boarding school mystery where the main character has to solve a murder that happened in the 1920s at her school while another mystery is happening in present time. my least favourite of the series but satisfying conclusion nonetheless. ★★★½
contemporary fiction
maybe in another life by taylor jenkins reid: dual timeline book showing the two outcomes of a decision the main character makes. cool concept but ultimately boring book because I didn’t care about the main character at all. didn’t rate because I didn’t finish it.
girl, woman, other by bernadine evaristo: vignette stories of various women whose lives are vaguely interconnected. incredibly well written with such vivid characters. deserves the hype. ★★★★
tin heart by shivan plozza: australian YA, the recipient of a heart transplant wishes to connect with the family of her donor, after she discovers the identity of her donor. good story but didn’t like the writing style. ★★★
a little life by hanya yanigahara: follows the life of a group of friends living in life, especially that of jude, a closed off and damaged man with a troubling past. a little too torture-porny/Tragic Gays but I cannot deny the author has a beautiful writing style and I went through all the emotions. didn’t rate
a girl like that by tanaz bhathena: explores the events leading up to the main character dying in a car crash. set in Jeddah, saudi arabia and explores expectations on women, feminism and expressions of sexuality and relationships between women during teenage years. kinda no good characters but I loved it for it’s messy depiction of teen girls (whilst not condemning them for this). underrated. ★★★★
little fires everywhere by celeste ng: drama in white american suburbs when a new family moves in and the neighbours start investigating their past. eh, I heard a lot about this and thought it was just okay. ★★★
stay gold by tobly mcsmith: trans boy decides to go stealth at his new school and falls for a cheerleader, georgia. about navigating being trans and definitely felt like it was written to educate cis people. it was okay but ultimately not my thing and not really the story I was looking for, even though I respect it being written by a trans author and still would recommend to certain people. ★★½
everything leads to you by nina lacour: main character and her best friend have to unravel a hollywood mystery, all while the main character is trying to get over her ex-girlfriend and find work as a set designer. f/f romance and loved the focus on movie making and the power of stories. ★★★½
the falling in love montage by ciara smyth: a girl meets another girl at a party, but she’s not looking to date due to the amount of family issues she has going on. so her and the girl decide to spend the summer having fun, renacting scenes from rom-coms, but never dating. awesome family dynamics and the relationship between the two girls was sweet also set in ireland which is fun.
normal people by sally rooney: explores the relationship between connell and marianne, who meet in school, date secretly, and then are inexplicably drawn to each other for the rest of their lives. explores power dynamics, relationships, love and trust, and what we owe to eachother. great book, great mini-series, love it to bits. ★★★★★
the glass hotel by emily st john mandel: impossible to explain this book, but there’s a mystery about grafitti, a ponzi scheme and a character falling to their death on a boat under suspicious circumstances. honestly idk what happened in this book but I liked it. ★★★½
historical fiction
half of a yellow sun by chimamanda ngozi adichie: historical fiction about the biafran war loosely based on adichie’s family experiences. incredibly well written with an ending that punches you in the gut. ★★★★
hamnet by maggie o’farrell: explores the shakespeare family after the death of their child, Hamnet, from the plague, and how this leads to Shakespeare writing Hamlet. cool as fuck concept and boring as fuck book with such tropey female characters. ★★
all the light we cannot see by anthony doerr: WW2 fiction, dual perspective between a blind girl living in france and a german boy forced into nazi youth. I cannot believe this book is award winning it’s so boring and predictable and i reget the time i wasted on it. ★
poetry:
on earth we’re briefly gorgeous by ocean vuong: poetry memoir. vuong writes a letter to his illiterate mother, knowing she’ll never read it, exploring their relationship, his experiences growing up as second generation Vietnamese-American, and hers during the Vietnam War. My favorite book I’ve read so far this year, just too good to explain, genuinely just feel like everyone is better off for having read this. ★★★★★
currrently reading:
girls of storm and shadow by natasha ngan
meet me at the intersection: edited by rebecca lim & ambelin kwaymullina
stamped from the beginning: the definitive history of racist ideas in america by ibram x. kendi
get a life, chloe brown by talia hibbert
#books#reading#booklr#book#book recommendation#mine#reading update#did anyone ask for this#no#did i do it anyway yes#its my continuing agenda to get book tumblr to read books that aren't soc and aftg aaldkskska#ok bye#after making this its become apparent to me I need to balance out how much fantasy I let myself read akdksks#i lov fantasy but im TRYING to read more uhh non fiction and lit fic
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
Try it, I Dare You
*** Greetings! So this little fic is part of Familial Attachments which I wrote ages ago. I randomly got inspired by Big Bro! Lucifer and decided to branch off of it. Quick reminder that this MC is not a Teen! MC and therefore not underage. Thanks, everyone for the love and support! This fic is a long one. -B ***
Summary: As Lucifer forms a more familial bond with MC, the other brothers find themselves falling for the human romantically. Lucifer notes the changes in his brother's intentions and is not pleased.
Gaining you as an honorary little sibling was one of the best things to ever happen to Lucifer.
It gave him someone he could open up to, someone to fawn over, someone he could be soft with.
This change in dynamic between you and Lucifer had caused a number of things to change in the House of Lamentation in general.
You and Lucifer had become practically attached to the hip. Where you went, it seemed he wasn't far behind. The other brothers had joked that he had degraded himself to be your guard dog (a comment that had them all scrubbing the entirety of the hall's floors with their own toothbrushes), and in all honesty, he sort of had. Lucifer spent more time outside of his office, and would instead do his work in the lounge, where he could personally keep an eye on you.
It was this extra time around you that had caused Lucifer to begin to notice things.
It began, as most problems within the house do, with Mammon.
You had been talking with Mammon on the couch as Lucifer quietly did paperwork in the background.
He hadn't been listening in on the conversation (as frankly, it was none of his concern and you did deserve your own privacy), but your bright laugh had momentarily caught his attention.
When he glanced over, he saw you double over, nearly in tears from something Mammon had apparently said. It was nice.
What wasn't so nice, was the openly soft, adoring look that he was giving you under the knowledge that you weren't looking. His cheeks were dusted visibly flushed as his eyes glistened with affection.
Lucifer's eyes narrowed as the expression quickly disappeared once you turned to face Mammon once more and continue your conversation.
Paying closer attention now, he noted how Mammon's hand was draped over the back of the couch, his fingertips ghosting over the tops of your shoulders. A fond smirk remained glued on his face as he watched you talk passionately, and didn't even make an attempt to interrupt you as he would with most people.
Most damning, however, was the fact that the blush never quite left his face.
Lucifer pressed his lips into a thin line.
Mammon quite clearly had romantic interests in you, and that just wouldn't do.
It wasn't that Lucifer didn't trust you to know what's best for yourself. No. He knew that you were exceedingly clever and did, in fact, trust you to make your own choices. It was precisely why he hadn't done anything about Asmodeus's hollow flirtations, or Satan's teasing, or Belphegor's sleepovers. He knew that if you were truly bothered by it, you were more than capable of getting them to leave you alone.
He didn't, however, trust his brothers with you.
With the new pathway of thinking that Mammon's actions had opened that day, Lucifer had noticed that Mammon was not alone in his not-so-innocent intentions with you.
In fact, it appeared that you had captured the hearts of each of his brothers.
It was all too obvious to him now.
Satan's hands lingering on yours as he passed you books. Asmodeus's comments being less shallow and materialistic and more personal and sentimental. Levi's awe-filled eyes, being fixed on you rather than the games the two of you played. Belphegor, cracking open an eye to peer up at you when you weren't looking as he "slept" on your lap. Beel's fidgeting and blush as he asked you to help him work out. Mammon practically melting whenever you ruffled his hair; even as he protested and swatted at your hands.
Lucifer cursed his past self for being so oblivious.
Perhaps the worst part of all of this is that you, the innocent pure soul that you were, were completely oblivious to all of their advances. You would simply giggle or brush it off entirely as just one of the many weird things that his brothers did.
It was unacceptable.
Lucifer, although he seldom admitted it, loved his brothers. He truly did. But he also knew how reckless, moronic, and just overall dangerous they could all be. You deserved better than that. It was for this reason that Lucifer had made it his personal mission to put an end to these revolting advances.
-
Asmodeus smiled as he practically skipped over to where you were reading in the living room, "Hey MC," he draped his arms over your shoulder from behind and nestled his chin on top of your head. "What are you doing today?"
You chuckled and moved your head to gaze up at the bubbly demon. "Good morning, Asmo. I'm not doing much. Just relaxing, I guess. Why?"
Asmo could feel his smile widen at the information. He had been trying to get you all to himself all week, but there was always someone else around or something else that you had to do. Now was his chance!
He hummed as he snaked around the chair to face you. "Then that means you're free to spend the day shopping with your truly!" He shot off a cheeky wink to end it all off.
Asmo felt his heart flutter as your eyes glittered in excitement at his words. "I'd love to Asmo! Just let me gather a few things and we'll-"
"Ah! MC. Are you heading out for the day?"
All the light and warmth that Asmodeus had been feeling instantly plummeted as Lucifer entered the room. His brother was obviously trying to play it off as though he hadn't orchestrated this, not even looking at the two of them as he thumbed through a few papers in his hands, but Asmodeus knew better.
You, however, were none the wiser.
You practically lit up as Lucifer walked into the room. "Yeah! Asmodeus invited me to go shopping with him. We're probably going to be gone for the better part of the day," Asmodeus's bad mood caused by his brother's presence softened as you looked back at him.
Asmo plastered on a smile and wrapped an arm around your shoulder while glared sharply at Lucifer. He hoped that maybe this time he'd actually take the hint and leave everything alone. "Was there something you needed, big brother? Or are you just here to grace us with your presence?"
Asmodeus regretted his words, as the moment he saw them, Lucifer smiled sharply, like a cat who'd just captured its prey. "Well, since you asked, Asmodeus, I was hoping the two of you could pick up a few things for me," Lucifer began to list off rare item after rare item. Asmo could nothing but watch as the dread in his stomach grew heavier and heavier.
You chuckled nervously as Lucifer reached what had to be the twentieth item. "That's quite a bit, Lucifer. I don't think I'd be able to remember it all, and even if I did, I don't know where to begin looking for half of the things you listed," your face scrunched up adorably in thought before you snapped and looked up at the two demons. "I know! Why doesn't Lucifer come with us! That way he'll be able to get his things, and we all can spend time together. Sounds nice, right?"
And there it was.
Asmodeus did everything he could to keep the disappointment off his face, as Lucifer patted your shoulder. "That sounds like an excellent idea, MC," Asmo bit back a growl as Lucifer pulled you out of his arms and lead you towards your room. He glanced back at Asmo with a smug, prideful, look on his face. "We'll go get ready. Thank you for arranging this day out, Asmodeus."
Asmodeus could do nothing but pout as Lucifer walked away with you.
-
Satan had never felt so... tender-hearted before.
He watched you affectionately as you rambled on about your day while effortlessly helping him make supper.
There was something so wholesome and domestic about the entire situation that reminded him of the few romance novels he had read. Initially, when he read those books, he thought the poetic descriptions of the person's heart skipping and the tingling warmth filling their body was a gross exaggeration, but now he knew, and he never wanted that feeling to go away.
He moved by your side and stirred one of the pots on the stove while you diced tomatoes. As he listened to you speak about an enchantment you were trying to get the hang of with Solomon, he suddenly remembered one of the more cliche moments from the books he read.
Glancing at the sauce, Satan carefully scooped up a little bit into a spoon and gently blew on it to cool it down. He turned to you and held the spoon out towards you. "I'm not sure if I got the spices balanced outright. Would you mind-"
Before he could speak any more, a head. that most certainly did not belong to you, swooped down and ate the sauce off the spoon. You and Satan blinked as Lucifer, who had somehow appeared behind you, pulled away from the spoon with a thoughtful expression. "The sauce is good. I'd say it's probably done now," Lucifer stated calmly as his thumb wiped at the corners of his mouth. Satan's grip tightened on the spoon's handle as he snarled at his brother.
You looked awkwardly between the two as Lucifer draped his arm onto your shoulder. "Lucifer? What are you doing here?"
Lucifer's expression softened as he looked down at you, "I just wanted to check in on you," Satan's eye twitched at the excuse. Lucifer tilted his head before he continued. "Also, I saw Mammon sneaking into your room, muttering something about your jewellery box and wanted to give you a heads up."
Your eyes widened as your head snapped in the direction of your room. "What?! Why didn't you start with that?!" Lucifer's smile widened as you made your way towards the kitchen exit. You glanced back at Satan with sympathetic eyes, "Sorry, Satan. I'll promise I'll help you make dinner next time!" Before Satan even had the chance to respond, you had taken off down the hall, yelling his older brother's name.
With you gone, Satan turned to Lucifer with full, unrestrained fury. "What the fuck was that for?" he spat as he stepped into Lucifer's space.
The elder brother merely rolled his eyes and stepped around Satan as though he was nothing more than a hissing kitten. "I could be asking you the same thing. You were getting awfully close there."
Satan's face grew red, though it was hard to distinguish whether the colour was from anger or embarrassment. "That's none of your business!"
Apparently, Lucifer didn't deem a response necessary, as he simply dismissed his brother with a cocky wave of his hand and strutted out of the room in the same direction that you had left.
-
Beelzebub was taking a chance and stepping outside of his comfort zone.
Ever since discovering a small, weak flower in the shadows of the Hall of Lamentation and nursing it back to health, Beel had taken up gardening as a hobby.
None of his brothers knew about it, to his knowledge, and that was okay. If anything, the soft-spoken demon preferred it that way.
But when he noticed that it was particularly nice outside and that you were roaming around with little to do, he decided to let you in on his little secret.
Beel stole a glimpse over his shoulder at you. You were hunched over, humming to yourself as you worked away, your hands knuckle deep in the rich soil with smudges of dirt smeared across your forehead. The gentle dim light of the Devildom sky bounced off your skin and blanketed you in its glow, only adding the beauty you projected.
The sight alone stole his breath and momentarily made him forget about his hunger.
He opened his mouth to speak to you, but was cut off by the sound of heavy footfalls thundering towards you and a loud dangerous growl.
Beel's eyes widened as he notice Cerberus turn the corner, heading straight towards the two of you in a dead sprint.
Without thinking, Beel quickly tackled you to the side, just as the three-headed hell hound rushed past you, demolishing the garden in his wake.
You did a double-take between Beel, Cerberus and the garden as you scrambled to your feet. "Cerberus? How in Diavolo's name did he get loose?" you anxiously ran a hand through your hair began to head in the direction he took off in. "Lucifer taught me a few tricks for catching him. I'm going to go get him! I'm so so sorry about all of this Beel! I'll make it up to you, I promise!"
Without another word you took off after the beast, shouting it's name.
Beel frowned and looked at what remained of his garden. He felt his heart sink a little at seeing all of his hard work destroyed. With a heavy sigh, he slowly made his way towards Cerberus's den to see just how bad the damage was.
Only, when he arrived, the pen's door didn't even have a scratch on it; almost as though someone had let the dog out.
-
Leviathan paced around his room as he muttering to himself as tightly clenched to tickets.
"Alright, Levi. It's not a big deal," he whispered reassuringly. "You just have to go out there, hand them the tickets, and ask them to come with. You already checked their calendar when you were in their room last time, and there are no mentions of any upcoming events on their Devilgram, so they won't be busy. O-Of course, they could always reject you for being a stupid shut-in and a gross o-otaku, b-b-but they're your Henry! Right? They have to agree! Okay!" Levi took a deep breath of courage and quickly flung open his door.
He charged to the living room where he knew you would be lounging with Lucifer.
Upon seeing him, your expression lit up and you graced Leviathan with one of your dazzling smiles. The otaku swore that he could hear his heart go "doki-doki". He stumbled to a stop as his face blushed, and quickly hid the tickets behind his back. "H-Hi MC."
"Hey, Levi-chan!" Oh Diavolo, he loved it when you called him that. "What's up? You look like a man on a mission."
Levi briefly noted Lucifer side-eyeing the two of you as he began to stutter out an answer. "W-Well you see, uh... I-I just um...There's this th-thing that..." He let out a small noise of frustration at his own incompetence.
But you never laughed, or sighed, or groaned, like any of his brothers would have. No. You merely sat there and waited patiently for him to find his words with a gentle smile on your face.
Another deep breath and Levi composed himself. "Did you want to go to an idol concert with me this weekend?" Levi couldn't even bring himself to look you in the eyes as he asked the question. "O-Obviously you don't have to, b-b-but you seemed to like their music when I played it the other day, a-a-and you aren't busy so I thought-"
"Actually," Levi's mouth snapped shut as Lucifer spoke up, "MC and I have plans with Diavolo this weekend."
Levi's head whipped over to look at you and noted the slightly confused expression on your face. "I thought that was next weekend?"
Amber eyes narrowed at the words, as Levi slowly turned to glare at Lucifer. It was all to clear to the Otaku what was happening here.
Lucifer shrugged, not even phased by the venomous stare of his brother, and pulled out his D.D.D. "Barbatos messaged me saying that Diavolo had an important meeting pop up next week and asked if we could move our little get-together to this weekend instead."
You huffed and crossed your arms. "I know he's the prince and can't help it, but making last-minute changes like that is just rude."
Lucifer chuckled at your annoyance and ruffled your hair. "I know, but it's nothing either of us can help. I'll just confirm that we're good with the change and-"
"No." Lucifer and Levi both looked at you in shock. Levi dared to let his heart flutter with hope at the determined look on your face. "I can make plans with Diavolo any time. This concert is a once-in-a-lifetime experience and it clearly means a lot to Levi. Tell him that I'll have to take a rain check. I'm going to be spending the weekend with Levi-chan."
Levi instantly let out a cheer of victory as he stepped forward spun you in the air. "Thank you, MC!!! Oh we're going to have so much fun! I swear you won't regret this!"
You giggled as you were set back down onto your feet. "Thank you for inviting me! This is going to be amazing!"
You and Levi began rambling about all the things you wanted to do at the concert and what you'd need to prepare in advance for the ultimate experience.
Levi couldn't believe it! He was going to spend an entire weekend getting to show you the things that he loved! It'd be just the two of you and it'd be perfect.
"I have an idea," Levi felt himself tense as Lucifer spoke up once more. "Why don't we all go together? That way you can spend time with Diavolo, while also getting to attend the concert?"
Levi's heart sunk as you squealed at the idea, jumping excitedly around a smiling Lucifer.
So much for his perfect, romantic, weekend.
-
Mammon took a deep breath as he stared at your bedroom door.
This was it. He was finally going to tell you how he felt.
He had it all planned out. He was going to go in there, and gift you the necklace he had noticed you looking at the last time the two of you went downtown. Then, he'd explain how through the past months of living with you and being your protector, that he found himself becoming enraptured by every single little thing that you do. He'd explain how he knows that he's clingy and greedy when it comes to spending time with you, but that's because there's nothing he treasures more than being by your side. And then, he'd say that he loves you, and hope that you say the same in return.
Fucking romantic right? Mammon had this in the bag.
He confidently lifted his chin as he knocked on your door before walking in. "Hey MC! I know it's late, but do ya gotta-" he trailed off at the sight before him.
Both you and Lucifer were in fluffy, white robes on your bed. Lucifer had a headband in his hair, brushing his bangs away from his clay mask-covered face. You were beside him, also sporting a mask, your tongue peeking out of the corner of your mouth as you carefully painted his nails.
Lucifer raised an eyebrow at his brother, obviously annoyed at being disturbed, while you smiled over at Mammon. "Hey, Mams! Just a sec," you smoothly finished applying a coat of red polish to Lucifer's pinky finger before recapping the bottle and turning to the white-haired demon. "What's up?"
Mammon felt his face heat up, as he quickly hid the small box in his hands behind his back. "I- Uh- Nothin'! Just wanted to talk with ya. Can ya come with me for a few minutes?"
Lucifer sighed as he examined his freshly painted nails. "Might I remind you that you're the one disturbing us, Mammon? If you've got something to say," Mammon gulped as knowing, irked, obsidian eyes bore into his, "spit it out."
You smacked Lucifer's arm. "Hey! Be nice," you offered Mammon a sympathetic smile as you turned back to him. "Sorry, Mammon. You were saying?"
Mammon swallowed down the lump in his throat as humiliation flooded his veins. He awkwardly looked away and waved off your concern. "Nah. It was nothin' important," he subtly slid the necklace box into his back pocket, "I-I'll talk with ya tomorrow or somethin'. It's nothin' ya need to worry about."
You blinked owlishly at Mammon. He could practically see the gears churning inside your head; you obviously thought something was wrong. "Are you sure? If it matters to you, Mammon, that means it's important. I can spare a few minutes if it's really bothering you."
You began to stand up, but as you did, Lucifer caught your wrist."MC, he already said you didn't need to worry about it. If it was that important, he would've just told us. I'm sure everything is fine," Mammon tensed as Lucifer shifted his cold gaze onto him, "right?"
Mammon quickly nodded as he stumbled back towards the door. "Yeah! Yes! Everything is perfectly fine! I-I'll just get goin' and leave to continue whatever this is. Bye!" He scurried out of the room, slamming the door behind him, before slumping against it.
He could faintly hear the sounds of you scolding Lucifer, and felt himself slump in defeat.
He'd just have to try again another day.
-
Belphegor fluffed the blankets and pillows that he had set up in the backyard.
It was perfect. He had actually put in work to make sure it was.
A sea of blankets would protect the two of you from the chilly, Devildom, night air, while his finest pillows would make sure you were comfortable. He had brought out a thermos filled with tea and some snacks to make the evening extra cozy.
It was everything the two of you would need to take in the meteor shower tonight.
A click sounded behind him. Belphie perked and quickly turned to greet with you a smile.
Only, instead of you, a rather smug-looking Lucifer stood in the doorway.
Belphie growled and went back to arranging pillows. "What do you want?"
Lucifer shrugged and began to set up a telescope. Belphie gritted his teeth at the sight of it. "I'm just here to take in the meteor shower like you are. That's all. It is quite a beautiful sight after all, and it also happens to be very enlightening."
Belphegor sneered at his older brother as he turned away from him. "Well do it somewhere else! I'm watching the shower here with MC, not you. So go away!"
Lucifer tilted his head in mock confusion as he held up his phone. "Oh dear, but I've already invited the others to join us out here."
Belphie's head snapped up at Lucifer's words. "You what?!"
As though summoned, the rest of his brothers toppled into the backyard.
"I was unaware there was a meteor shower tonight," Satan claimed as he laid down his own blanket near Belphie's perfectly structured nest. "To think I almost missed out on it."
"Eh, I don't care about any stupid stars or anythin'," Belphie groaned in annoyance as Mammon plopped himself down beside him. "But if anythin' falls near us, then those meteor pieces have gotta be worth a fortune!"
Levi scoffed and rolled his eyes as he leaned against the house, game counsel still in hand. "Nothing's actually falling, dumb ass. They're just space rocks passing by."
Asmodeus giggled while he snuggled himself up on Belphie's other side. Belphie wrinkled up his nose and tried to lean away from the physical affection. "Then why are you out here, Levi, if they're just space rocks? Can't you admit that they're beautiful, like me, and you wanted to experience something real for once?"
Levi let out a squawk of embarrassment. "There isn't anything that 'reality can offer me that anime can't! I've seen meteor showers at least ten times all with amazing shots and angles that you could never get in real life!"
Asmodeus merely shook his head in response. "Whatever you say, Levi," he reached over to the picnic basket that Belphie for you and him had packed and held it over his head. "Beel! Snacks!"
Belphegor gaped at his twin as the ginger giant grabbed the basket and sat down behind them. "Beel?! You too?"
Beel looked down guiltily and looked through the food. "I'm sorry, Belphie. But Lucifer said there'd be snacks and that everyone else was going to be there, and I thought it'd be nice to have a family event."
Belphie groaned and held his head in his hands. "You knew I was planning this for just me and MC though."
Beel frowned and held out a cookie to his twin. "Sorry."
Before Belphie could argue anymore or even get the chance to kick everyone out, the door opened once more.
"Oh," everyone looked over to see you standing there in your pyjamas. Belphie's heart clenched as your confused eyes found his. "I didn't know this was a group gathering! I would've brought down some pillows for everyone or some snacks if I had known!" you smiled brightly at the group as you walked towards them.
"No need. Belphie went ahead and provided enough for everyone already," Lucifer claimed and patted the ground next him. "You can sit with me, MC. There's plenty of space over here."
Belphie cursed under his breath as you accepted Lucifer's offer and huffed as the meteor shower began.
Lucifer smirked as he took in his brother's defeat with glee, and you babbled away none-the-wiser by his side.
His brothers could try to woo you and corrupt you all they wanted, but Lucifer wasn't going anywhere. For every attempt they'd make, he'd be there to stop it.
You had deemed Lucifer your big brother, after all, and as such, he'd make sure that you were always safe from his brothers' infernal influences.
***The ending is meh, but whatever! I hope you guys enjoyed this fic! It was both fun and hassle to write, but I love it nonetheless! Thanks for your amazing support and love! Sorry for the lack of fics lately. Love you all!***
Taglist
@all-oxidized-to-green @candymeowz, @thegrimgrinningghost @henry-and-the-seven-lords @satans-beloved-riv @cosmixbun @sufzku @lovelythoma @mothervictoire @obey-mes-treasure @kissed-by-a-dementor @yukihaie @justtiarra @mammoneybb @obeys-world @poly-bi-mf @armycandy10 @burrixino @arkarul @pumpkins-mainside-blog
#obey me shall we date#obey me#obey me fan fic#obey me fic#obey me fanfic#obey me lucifer#obey me mammon#obey me leviathan#obey me satan#obey me asmodeus#obey me beelzebub#obey me belphegor#obey me demon brothers#soft lucifer#big bro lucifer#gn mc#gender neutral main character#fan fic#my writing
653 notes
·
View notes
Text
42 Hours
Content: an enemies to lovers au in which Harry and Y/N are forced into a cross country road trip to make it to their best friends’ wedding on time
Warnings: language, mentions of nsfw content
Pairing: Harry Styles x reader
Word Count: 20k
A/N: I actually cannot believe that this is finally being posted over almost a month of working on it!! originally, I was going to make this one long stand alone fic, but once I hit 35k with no end in sight, I decided to split it into two parts so that it would be easier to read for you guys. I’m hoping to have part 2 posted within a week, so keep an eye out for it!! this fic was partially inspired by this post by @avhrodite (thank you miss bailey!!) and can I just say that I had so much fun writing it!! I love road trips!! it makes me so sad that I had to split this fic because there are so many fun music scenes in the next part but those will all come in due time!! I would also like to give a big thank you to miss andrea @adashofniallandasprinkleoflunacy and miss alex @darthstyles for putting up with me bouncing ideas off of them and for proof reading for me!! and miss andrea again for editing this stunning header pic!! also everyone I tagged is a wonderful writer and if you’re looking for more to read after reading this then I HIGHLY suggest taking a look through their masterlists. and as always, if you like this fic, please like and reblog it!! and shoot me a message!! feedback is always appreciated, not just by me, but by all content creators <3
{masterlist}
also!! if you want to set the mood for a road trip with Harry, here is a link to the playlist that is mentioned and referenced in this fic!!
When she was a little girl, Y/N’s grandmother had told her about Murphy’s Law. Grandma Sarah’s favourite activity was staring at her granddaughter over the kitchen counter, a knife in one hand and half an onion that she’d been cutting in the other, spouting various wisdoms at the young girl, who would often be sitting and peeling vegetables for her. The old lady had hoped that, after being lectured enough times on life’s difficulties, Y/N might be able to avoid making the same mistakes that she had made in her own time. She always had a list of advice that she’d cycle through, as if she were a record on a loop.
“Always look both ways before crossing the street. Your great uncle Albert didn’t, and he never regained full function of his left hand.”
“Beauty fades, but there’s no shelf life on your mind.”
“The grass is always greener on the other side, so stop staring at it, and focus on taking care of your own lawn.”
All of the advice was, by any accounts, useful for anyone to know, especially a young girl. Of course, sometimes the advice would get a little scrambled after Grandma Sarah had had a few glasses of wine, but even her tipsy thoughts were useful to Y/N in her later years. To this day, Y/N still sets a glass of water on her nightstand before going out to a bar, and her hungover self is always grateful the next morning. And Y/N had yet to find anything that smelled as sweet as a vanilla dabbed behind her ears and on her wrists when she runs out of perfume. However, perhaps the most important piece of advice Grandma Sarah ever gave her came one afternoon when Y/N was eleven years old, and her older cousin Grace was due to get married the next week.
Grandma Sarah had cracked egg after egg into her mixing bowl, always without getting any unwanted pieces of shell in the egg whites, and gave her granddaughter a long look across the kitchen counter.
“When you get married, Y/N,” She had said, voice firm. “Remember Murphy’s Law. Anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment. When Murphy’s Law comes into play, there’s nothing you can do except roll with the punches.”
Eleven year old Y/N had nodded her head seriously, as she always did when her grandmother told her seemingly important things. The advice, despite its usefulness, however, didn’t stick around in her head, and Murphy’s Law didn’t cross Y/N’s mind for fourteen years.
It takes fourteen years for Y/N, who is standing in front of a flight check-in at LAX, two large suitcases next to her, one of which contains two gold wedding bands, passport in hand, and a distressed look on her face, to remember the law her grandmother had once told her about.
“When you get married, Y/N…anything that can go wrong, will go wrong, and at the worst possible moment.”
Taking a deep breath to calm herself, Y/N pushes the echoing words of her grandmother out of her head. “I’m sorry, just—” She gives a pained smile to the lady working the check in. “Can you explain that to me again, please?”
The lady also takes a deep breath, the smile on her ruby tinted lips just as pained as Y/N’s. “There’s a storm system moving through Utah and Colorado. These systems have the potential to become tornadoes, and because of that, the conditions for flying are too dangerous right now, so all flights through that area are grounded until further notice.”
“So my flight is cancelled?” Y/N holds up the ticket in her hand that’s stamped with LAX – JFK. “This flight, this flight to New York, which is nowhere near Utah—that’s cancelled?”
The check-in lady, whose name tag reads Brynn, gives another tight smile. “Yes, ma’am. It’s cancelled.”
“Okay, no, I’m sorry, Brynn, but that doesn’t work for me.” Y/N shakes her head fiercely as the manic rush of emotions through her begins to set in. The denial, she finds, keeps the oncoming panic at bay, and so she decides to focus on that to ground herself. “My best friend is getting married in the Catskills in one week.” Y/N holds up one finger, as if her words are hard for Brynn to understand. “That’s one week from today. I’m the maid of honour. I have to be there to help organize, keep her calm, and make sure she actually makes it down the aisle, because—between you and me—she’s got some commitment issues—” The more Y/N speaks, the more her panic begins to spill out in her words, like a dam with a leak that’s about to burst. “And she forgot the goddamn wedding rings, so I have those too, and I just—I really need to get to New York, like, now. Right now.”
Y/N finally pauses to take a sharp breath, and Brynn, who had been waiting for her to finish, speaks again, her voice flatter than before.
“I’m very sorry to hear that, ma’am, but as I said, all flights are grounded right now.”
Pinching the bridge of her nose between her fingers, Y/N takes another deep breath. Roll with the punches, her grandmother had told her. What else is there to do? “Okay.” Y/N is careful to keep her voice in check when she speaks again. “Alright. Do you know when they’ll be ungrounded?”
“As I’ve said,” Brynn’s smile is more of a grimace now, and Y/N knows that she’s treading on thin ice. “All flights are grounded until further notice. We’re not sure when we’ll be able to open them again. It could be a day, or it could be five. If you’d like, I can put you down on a list to be called when flights are available again, but I’m afraid that’s the best I can do.”
“Let’s do that, then.” Y/N relents in a tired voice, already making plans to pick up a coffee on her way back to her apartment. In the back of her mind, she begins to wonder if she has any Baileys Irish cream liqueur left in her kitchen cabinet—and if 8:30 A.M. is too early to be drinking Baileys with her coffee.
…
It takes Y/N two cups of coffee with Baileys (it had been 10 A.M. by the time she arrived home, thanks to L.A. traffic, and she had decided that 10 A.M. was a fine time to drink when one’s flight gets cancelled indefinitely) to work up the courage to call Jo and tell her that she isn’t sure if she’ll be able to make it to the wedding.
Josephine Waters, or Jo to anyone who doesn’t want to get punched in the arm, has been Y/N’s best friend since the girls were five years old. They became fast friends on the first day of kindergarten, as Jo liked how Y/N could already colour inside the lines, and Y/N liked how Jo tackled a boy who tugged on Y/N’s pigtails. From the very beginning, the two were a perfect match for each other; where Y/N was reserved, Jo was wild. Where Jo was disorganized, Y/N was focused. Each girl balanced the other in the most natural way, and it’s this fact that Y/N and Jo credit for the two of them staying friends for twenty years. As they grew up together, they grew together, taking the very best traits from the other and using it to help themselves develop. Y/N had been the first person that Jo came out to, confessing to her best friend during an eighth grade sleepover in a quiet and nervous voice. To Jo’s pleasure, Y/N had been completely supportive, and returned the favour from the first day of kindergarten by punching a boy in the nose for calling Jo a homophobic slur. Jo helped Y/N through her parent’s divorce. Y/N helped Jo manage her ADHD. Jo talked Y/N through discovering her bisexuality in university. Y/N answered every 3 A.M. phone call to comfort Jo after a panic attack. In every sense of the word, the two girls had been there for each other.
And now Y/N is going to miss Jo’s wedding.
The harsh realization digs a pit in her stomach as she opens her phone and clicks on Jo’s name. It’s noon in L.A., which means it’s 3 P.M. in New York time, and Y/N knows Jo will answer. She always does.
Sure enough, after three short rings, Jo’s voice chirps through the phone. “Hey, Y/N! Has your flight landed already?”
“No, there’s—there’s been an issue.” Y/N downs another gulp of her coffee, wishing she had added more Baileys when she had the chance, and clears her throat before continuing. “There’s, um, a storm in Utah, and apparently it’s bad, and so all flights from L.A. to New York are grounded until further notice.”
Jo makes a scoffing noise, and Y/N can practically picture the indignant look on her face that she’s seen so many times before. “That’s ridiculous. Did you tell them that New York is nowhere near Utah?”
“Uh huh.”
“What about that my wedding is in one week?”
“I told them that, too. Brynn didn’t seem to care.”
“Bitch.” Jo mutters under her breath. “Okay, just wait a second, Laure just walked through the door, so I’m putting you on speakerphone—”
Y/N hears rustling on the speaker, as well as muttering in the background as Jo speaks to her fiancée, and then Jo’s voice is back, sounding slightly more distant.
“Okay, so I told Laure what happened—”
“That’s awful, Y/N.” Laure’s voice is laced with stress, and Y/N can only imagine how much anxiety this information is adding to her already full plate. “They won’t tell you when flights will be leaving again?”
“Nope.” Y/N pulls her knees to her chest and wraps her free arm around them, leaning her head against the back of her couch.
“Okay, well, planes aren’t the only way to get here.” Laure says, always the more rational out of the two. “Maybe a car—?”
“Y/N doesn’t have one.” Jo chimes in, a hint of teasing in her voice, despite the serious problem that’s in discussion. “She’s scared of driving—”
Y/N sits up, an indignant look on her face. “I’m not scared of driving!” She says hotly, setting her empty coffee mug on the table with a thud. “I just hate L.A. traffic, and honestly, there’s no point! I can walk to work, and Uber anywhere else I need to go! A car would be completely useless to me!”
“Except now, when you’re about to miss your best friend’s wedding.” Jo points out. “What about renting one?”
Y/N sighs, her moment of indignation already fizzled out. “I tried that already. There’s nothing available for a cross country trip.”
“And the drive is so long.” Laure murmurs, and Y/N knows it’s more for Jo’s benefit than hers. “It’s over forty hours. She can’t do that by herself; it’s not safe.”
“But—”
“Look, Jo, don’t worry about this, alright?” Y/N cuts across her best friend’s anxious voice, assuming her usual role of protector. “I’ll figure this out. I promise you; I will make it to your wedding on time, looking pretty in my dress, and with your wedding bands. I promise.”
“We’ll keep thinking about it and see what we can come up with.” Laure promises through the phone, her voice sounding further and further away. “This is just—it’s a bump in the road, but it’s fine. We can work around this. We’ll find a way.”
…
The way that Laure finds for Y/N pounds on her door at 7:30 A.M. the next morning.
Y/N, like any exhausted and stressed out adult who has already begun her ten days of vacation time that she booked off for the wedding, is fast asleep in her bed when she hears the knocking. The loud noise pulls her out from her dreams abruptly, and she cracks one eye open, squinting through the sunlight that’s lighting up her room. When the knock echoes through her apartment again, she pulls herself from her sheets with a groan, grabbing her robe from the back of her door and tying it around herself as she makes her way to the front hallway to yell at whoever has the audacity to wake her up.
When she opens the door, Harry Styles is peering down at her with an irritated look on his face.
“Took you long enough, Y/N.” He rolls his eyes as he speaks, finally stepping back from the door that he had been pounding on a moment ago. “Are you ready to go?”
Y/N rubs her eyes, suppressing a yawn as she does so. “Styles, I have no idea what you’re talking about. What are you doing here?” She demands. She doesn’t have the energy to deal with him right now, she thinks, let alone the mental capacity to listen to anything he has to say.
Harry crosses his arms across his chest, and it’s then that Y/N notices the duffel bag strewn over his shoulder. “It’s a forty-two hour drive from L.A. to the Catskills.” Harry’s eyes scan over Y/N’s appearance, the very corner of his strawberry pink lips twitching, and Y/N tightens her robe around herself with a glare.
“A drive?” Y/N asks, uncertainty growing in her voice as she crosses her arm over her chest. “What are you talking about?”
“Your flight was cancelled, right?” Harry’s voice grows more impatient as Y/N’s half asleep brain struggles to piece together what’s happening. “So was mine, so I decided to drive to the wedding, and then Laure called me last night, begging me to take you with me.” He shrugs a bit, fixing his sunglasses on top of his head as his jade eyes scan over her appearance one more time. “Not my first choice of road trip partner, but I don’t think the best man can say no to bringing the maid of honour. And splitting the cost of gas will be nice.”
“Okay, wait, I…” Y/N’s finally coming out of her fog of exhaustion, and the newfound clarity of her mind is causing a newfound pit to develop in her stomach. “Laure and Jo didn’t tell me any of this.”
“Well, I expect they’re a bit busy, given that they’re getting married in a week.” Harry adjusts the strap of his duffel bag on his shoulder with a sharp sigh. “Look, are you ready to go or not? It’s over a five day drive, so we need to leave as soon as possible.”
“I—yeah—” Y/N nods before taking a hesitant step back from the doorway, positioning herself to the side so that Harry can get by her. “I just have to get dressed and grab a couple last minute things, so…come in, I guess.”
Harry flashes an insincere smile to Y/N as he steps into her apartment, his eyes darting around at the furniture and home decor. Y/N watches as his gaze lingers on her library of books, her yellow bicycle leaning against the wall, and every other little touch of herself that she likes her home to have, and she can see the judgement that’s clearly apparent in his eyes.
“You can sit, if you want.” She mutters, turning on her heel to go back to her bedroom. “I’ll only be a few minutes.”
The first thing Y/N does when she shuts her bedroom door behind herself is assess the situation in the analytical way that usually calms her. Alright. So a road trip across the country isn’t exactly ideal, and a road trip across the country with Harry Styles is even less ideal. But, at the present moment, being stuck in a car with Harry seems to be the only sure way that she’ll be able to make it to Jo’s wedding on time. And for Jo, Y/N would put up with anything. Even Harry.
As she rummages through her drawers for some leggings and a tank top, Y/N wonders what she could have possibly done to bring this much bad karma into her life. While she gets dressed, her mind flickers back to Murphy’s Law, how everything that can go wrong will go wrong, in the worst possible way, and then she thinks about being in a confined space with Harry for five days, and—yeah. That seems to be the worst possible thing she can think of.
Y/N remembers the first moment she’d met Harry seven years ago, and the unfortunate circumstances under which that meeting had happened. Jo and Laure had just barely met back then, and Jo had begged Y/N to come out on a double date with her and “this really hot girl from my women studies class who I’m, like, 83% sure swings my way.”
Y/N had groaned at that comment, flopping back on her bed in the tiny dorm that she and Jo shared. “No! I have an essay due in three days that I haven’t even started!”
Jo rolled her eyes as she flopped down on Y/N’s bed as well, ignoring her own half-made bunk that was across the small room, favouring her best friend’s bed like she always did. “We both know you’re not starting that essay until the day before it’s due, and that it’s just an excuse because you don’t want to go!”
“I don’t want to go.” Y/N had agreed with a sharp and fervent nod. She shut her laptop and pushed it to the side of her bed, knowing from experience that she wasn’t going to be able to focus and argue at the same time. “Why would I want to hang out with a complete stranger while you make googly eyes at a girl from your class?”
“Okay, first, I don’t make googly eyes.” Jo made a face at that comment, nudging Y/N’s calf with her own foot. “And second, he’s her best friend from high school, and he’s coming to visit all the way from London!”
“So? He’s still a stranger!” Y/N pointed out, her eyes drifting to the sticky note covered novel beside her. She picks it up and begins to flip through the marked pages as she speaks. “Knowing where he’s from doesn’t change that!”
“It should, because he’s only going to be here for a week, and Laure almost cancelled the date because she doesn’t want to miss spending time with him—” Jo grabbed one of Y/N’s pillows and tossed it at her arm, knocking the book from her hands. “Focus! So I said that he could come, but she said that she didn’t want him to be left out, so I said that I happen to have an incredibly beautiful and witty best friend who would be able to entertain Harry while we all hang out together.”
Y/N inhaled deeply as she gave Jo a withering look. “Did you already tell her I’m going?”
Jo, in return, gave Y/N her most dazzling smile. “Yes. We’re meeting them for dinner at 7.”
Y/N shakes herself from her memories as she runs to her bathroom to toss her toiletries back into the bag she’d taken them out of the day before, working as quickly as she can. It does her no good to think of Harry in the past, she thinks, because the present Harry is currently sitting in her living room, probably snooping through her stuff, and the longer she takes to get ready to go, the more he’ll go through. Not that there’s anything incriminating in her apartment, really—or at least, nothing incriminating in her living room. When Y/N makes it back to her bedroom, however, to quickly zip up her suitcase, she does make sure she grabs her favourite vibrator from the box under her bed, tucking it between her half-folded underwear. If she’s going to be gone for a week, she’ll need something to help her relax.
Within a few more minutes, Y/N is repacked and ready to go. Her hunter green bridesmaid dress is carefully arranged on the very top of her clothes in her suitcase, all of her makeup and toiletries are packed inside, and Jo and Laure’s wedding rings are secured in little velvet boxes stashed between her socks. As far as physical preparedness goes, Y/N is ready to go on a coast to coast road trip. As far as mental preparedness goes, however…that’s the thing that Y/N’s not quite sure about.
…
“What are you doing?”
Y/N glances at Harry from the corner of her eye, her hand still half stretched out to the radio dials in his car. Although Harry’s green eyes are hidden behind his sunglasses, and his face is turned towards the long road in front of them, he still somehow manages to catch her motions, and it irritates her to no end.
“I’m changing the radio station?” Y/N answers after a moment, giving him a puzzled look. “I don’t know why you listen to this weird oldies station, but—”
“First of all—” Harry’s hands turn the steering wheel slightly to guide his car over the curve of the road, his jaw twitching as a smirk works its way onto his pink lips. “This isn’t a radio station, it’s my Spotify playlist. I put a Bluetooth connection in Stevie a year ago. Secondly—”
“Stevie?” Y/N repeats incredulously, twisting her whole body as best she can to look at Harry straight on. “You named your car? You’re one of those guys?”
Harry finally gives Y/N a flicker of a glance, the glare obvious in his eyes even behind his dark sunglasses. He turns his attention back to the road before replying. “Secondly—” He continues from before, ignoring her comment as his right hand readjusts the gear shift. “Driver picks the music.”
Y/N makes a face, the corners of her lips pulling down into a grimace as she settles back into the passenger seat with her arms crossed. “So we’re just going to listen to ‘Tiny Dancer’ for the entire drive, are we?”
“Not the entire drive, no.” Harry flicks on his turn signal with a ringed hand before shoulder checking to change lanes. Y/N glances at him, her eyes training on the strained muscles in his neck as Harry continues. “We’ll listen to ‘Don’t Go Breaking My Heart,’ too.”
“Great.” Y/N exhales slowly and presses her head back into the seat’s headrest, closing her eyes as Elton John’s voice continues to float through the speakers. “Really looking forward to it.”
“You know, maybe you should try to sleep.” Harry says, his voice prickled with irritation as Elton John bleeds into The Zombies. “I think you’ll be in a better mood after you take a nap.”
Y/N readjusts her crossed arms as she mutters a short reply. “Don’t tell me what to do.” Still, she shuts her eyes again, twisting her body towards the window in an attempt to get comfortable enough to sleep. Being in the car with Harry is already giving her a throbbing migraine, and they’ve only been on the road for less than two hours. Sleeping through most of the trip will probably be the only way she’ll be able to survive it.
Despite that realization, however, her phone vibrates in her lap three minutes later, pulling her away from her thoughts. Y/N glances down at the now lit screen, catching her bottom lip between her teeth when she registers the name on the message. Opening her phone quickly, she reads over the reply as a guilty feeling begins to build in her stomach.
BRANT: Hey, what are you doing tonight? Want to grab some dinner?
“What’s wrong?”
“Hm?” Y/N’s head snaps back up, her eyes jerking in Harry’s direction. Like before, he’s watching her from the corner of his eye, catching every one of her movements, and the constant surveillance is annoying to no end.
Harry, it seems, is either oblivious to her annoyance, or is choosing to ignore it. “I asked what’s wrong. You have a weird look on your face.” Harry’s blunt words are accompanied by the sound of him tapping his ring covered fingers against the gear shift. “Everything alright? Is it Laure and Jo?”
“No, it’s just—” Y/N glances down at her phone again, fingers poised over her keyboard as she crafts a reply in her head. “It’s no one.”
Harry snorts once, a short and harsh sound that grates against Y/N’s nerves like nails on a chalkboard. “I don’t buy that for a second.”
“It’s no one to you.” Y/N updates her retort, turning her full attention back to her phone. “My personal life is none of your business.”
Y/N: I’m sorry, I can’t!! Caught a last minute ride to New York with somebody. Maybe once I’m back?
“Personal life, huh?” Harry clicks his tongue once, and the childish noise is even more irritating than his snort. “What, you can’t talk to me about whoever you’re shagging?”
The blunt remark hits Y/N like a shot to the chest, and she sputters for a moment as she struggles to form a response. “I—we’re not—” Taking a moment to gather herself and clear her throat quickly, Y/N avoids Harry’s gaze as her cheeks begin to burn. “We’re not like that. We’ve just…had a few dates, that’s all. There’s nothing…official.”
“You don’t need to be official to have a shag, now, do you?” Harry lifts his hand from the gear shift to fix his sunglasses, settling it back down on his jean covered thigh once he’s done. “If you don’t want to date the bloke—”
“I didn’t say that.” Y/N cuts over him, pulling herself from her embarrassment enough to give him a cold glare. “He’s very nice—”
“Boring, you mean—”
“And I—this is none of your business!” Feeling the flush of embarrassment rise back to her cheeks, Y/N once again turns her attention to her passenger seat window, avoiding Harry’s pressing gaze. “I’m done talking about this.”
Harry gives an indifferent shrug. “Whatever.” He says casually, tapping his finger against his thigh as his shoulders once again lift slightly beneath his fitted black t-shirt. “I just feel bad for the guy, that’s all.”
The comment is bait. And the thing is, Y/N knows it’s bait. She knows that the only reason Harry is saying it is to get under her skin and keep her talking about Brant, further embarrassing herself in the process. She’s been around Harry enough to know how he works, and she knows that the only reason he would say that is to bait her. She knows she shouldn’t take it. And yet—
“There’s no reason to feel bad for him.” Y/N scoffs as she fidgets with the position of her seatbelt, trying to stop the strap from cutting into her chest. “We’ve been talking for a month, and there’s nothing official happening. Just because you can’t go that long without trying to stick your dick in someone—”
“You have no idea what I can do, Y/N. Don’t pretend that you do.” Harry’s tone of voice is just as scoffing as hers, his eyes still set on the road in front of them intently as he gives his sharp response. Y/N watches as he shifts the gears of the car and speeds up, just enough to make the engine roar, but not enough to lose control of the car. Part of Y/N wistfully wishes that he would just slip up and crash the car, just so she wouldn’t have to continue this conversation.
“All I meant,” Harry continues, unaware of the dark daydreams running through Y/N’s head. “Is that I feel bad that you’re clearly not interested in him, which is proven by the fact that you haven’t wanted him in your bed.”
Irritation flares through Y/N’s body again, stronger than the embarrassment of discussing her sex life (or lack thereof) with Harry, and she half considers just grabbing the steering wheel and yanking it into a passing cliff so she can finish them off herself. “For Christ’s sake, Harry, sex isn’t the only way to—”
“I don’t mean actually having it, that’s not a given.” Harry rolls his eyes from behind his sunglasses as he slows down for a curve in the road, his practiced hands once again changing gears with ease. “You don’t have to fuck him. But you should want to, especially if you’ve had a month of dates, and you clearly don’t want to.”
Y/N doesn’t hide the incredulous stare of disbelief on her face as she turns to look at him. Harry’s face, though turned towards the road still, has a look of amusement mixed with contemplation on it, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control not to smack the expression off of him. Although there’s the ghost of a smirk on his strawberry coloured lips, his brow is furrowed behind his sunglasses, as if he’s thinking hard about the conversation between them. Normally, Y/N would be amazed that Harry is thinking hard about anything. However, given that their conversation is apparently turning into whether or not she wants to have sex with someone, Y/N’s not too thrilled about his sudden investment and serious contemplation of the topic.
Shaking her head decidedly, Y/N finally spits out a finishing phrase. “You don’t know what I want.” She says decidedly, reaching into the backseat to grab the sweater she stashed back there. She clumsily pulls it over her body without taking off her seatbelt. Harry keeps the AC cranked as high as he can, and she knows that he’ll kill her if she tries to change it. “You don’t know anything about me.”
“I know more than you think.” Harry counters, the tip of his tongue running along his bottom lip. “And I’m pretty good at reading body language. You don’t really want him. He—what’s his name?”
Despite her better judgement, Y/N answers in a flat voice. “Brant.”
The corners of Harry’s cherry lip twitches. “Brant. Yeah. It’s clear you don’t really want him, and you’re wasting your time. You’re wasting his time, too. Poor Brant.”
“Poor—you’re such an ass, you know that?” Y/N’s irritation bubbles over as she gives Harry a nasty look, her hand squeezing her thigh hard in an attempt to ground herself in their conversation. “You can try to pretend otherwise, but you don’t know anything about me, or him, so—”
“You think I’ve been friends with Laure and Jo this long and haven’t learned anything about you?” Harry cocks an eyebrow, risking a glance at her as he presses a heavier foot onto the gas. “I told you, I know more than you think, and that includes your type.”
An incredulous scoff leaves Y/N’s mouth, and she shakes her head in obvious disbelief before responding. “My type. Right. What is my type, then? What’s Brant like, exactly, since you seem to know everything?”
Harry goes quiet then, his brow furrowing again as he returns his full attention to the road. With his incessant chatter gone, the only sounds in the car being “Maps” playing quietly in the background and Harry’s ringed index and forefinger tap on the steering wheel. Y/N breathes out a long sigh of satisfaction as she relaxes back in her seat, her attention turned back to the blurred landscapes speeding by her window. Finally, she’s managed to get Harry to stop with his ridiculous assumptions—
“You like someone that’s stable and secure, so he probably works in some corporation, or an office job. Majored in business, I’d think, but has a minor in something like mathematics.” The side profile of Harry’s nose wrinkles in disgust at the thought. “He wants to work his way up in the company, but never wants to actually start anything on his own. He likes the stability of a blueprint. You’re obsessed with punctuality, so he’s probably always on time to pick you up for dates—and he has to pick you up, because you don’t drive—and your dates are never really dates. Dinners, or movies, or something like that, but they never really have that spark.” Harry’s shoulder lift slightly as he continues to make his conclusions. “Which, honestly, is probably a big reason in why you don’t want to fuck him, because as much as you like stability and safety, you also like the idea of a grand gesture, or something like that. And you probably split the bill a lot at dinner, right? Because it just seems fair, but really it’s because you know it’s not a real date. But it passes the time, and he’s nice, so it’s fine. But it’s only fine.” Harry licks his lips once more as he collects his next thoughts, his teeth catching his bottom lip just barely as his tongue retreats back into his mouth. “And he’s probably already talking about you coming to meet his family for some holiday. Not in a romantic way, but just because he likes to plan everything in advance to every minute detail. Just like you.”
Halfway through Harry’s speech, a flush had begun to creep up Y/N’s neck, continuing to warm her jaw and ears before settling on the apples of her cheeks. She keeps her eyes trained on her window and her mouth pressed into a tight line, refusing to look at Harry and give him any hint of just how shocked she is that he’s guessed so much.
Harry, however, doesn’t plan on letting her get away from his inquisition. “Well?” He impatiently prompts after a moment, and even though she’s not looking at him, she can feel him looking at her, his emerald irises burning into the back of her head. “Am I right?”
“I—” Y/N clears her throat quickly, but her voice is still strained and tight when she replies. “No.”
Harry hums low in his throat, and his voice is laced with curiosity with he replies. “Really?” The irritating tap of his fingers on the steering wheel to the beat of the music continues. “What did I get wrong?”
“He—” Y/N hates the way her skin is burning from his interrogation, how her voice shrinks smaller and smaller the more she speaks. If Harry knows her so well, then he knows how much she loves being in control, and in this situation, with Harry managing to pull every one of her most secret inner thoughts and feelings out of her without trouble, she feels anything but in control. “He has a minor in accounting, not mathematics.”
The laugh that leaves Harry’s mouth is loud and bombastic, and his whole body curves over the steering wheel as the sound rolls out of him, his eyes just barely managing to stay on the road while his sunglasses slide down his nose. “Right.” Harry says between belly laughs, his voice stretched out in amusement. “But everything else was spot on?”
Y/N keeps her stiff body turned towards the window, refusing to engage in the conversation any further. That doesn’t stop Harry, however, who fixes his sunglasses as chuckles continue to roll out of him.
“I take it back. Maybe he’s the one wasting your time.” His hand runs through his hair lazily, fixing the curled strands that had fallen into his eyes as he laughed. “I don’t blame you for not wanting to sleep with your bore of a boyfriend—”
“He’s stable!” Y/N breaks her silence to protest Harry’s words, her voice heated. “And he’s not my boyfriend. We’ve been seeing each other, but we’re not—it’s not exclusive, or—nothing serious—”
“You don’t have to explain yourself to me. It’s fine.” Harry waves off her arguments with a flick of his tattooed hand. “Besides, like you said, it’s none of my business, right?”
Y/N can practically picture what Harry looks like in this moment. His chestnut curls are probably a mess from fidgeting with them, and his cheeks are most likely rosy beneath his stubble from the peels of laughter that left his equally red lips a moment ago. Most infuriatingly of all, his dimples are probably present, making little indentations in his cheeks to show how entertaining he’s found embarrassing her. Bastard, she thinks, clenching her fists so hard that her nails dig into her palms, pressing them into her sides beneath her makeshift blanket.
She refuses to let herself confirm if her suspicions about Harry’s appearance are correct, and instead keeps her gaze on the blurred trees whipping by outside her window. “Right.” She mutters, leaning her head against the headrest as she closes her eyes. “It’s none of your business.”
…
As soon as the paint-peeled door to the motel room swings open, Y/N knows that she’s not going to be sleeping soundly tonight.
She’s not sure what her first hint should have been. Perhaps it was the half-flickering blue and red light of the Motel 6 sign that should have tipped her off, or the front-desk attendant who looked as though he was hiding a few secrets himself. When Y/N and Harry had first approached the front desk of the tiny, vaguely mildew-smelling lobby, their clothes rumpled from the drive and their attitudes just as bothered, the employee in the Motel 6 uniform had barely raised an eye at them, not bothering to look up from his computer until Y/N and Harry were directly in front of him.
“Hi.” Harry had said, his voice taking on a cautious but polite tone that, Y/N remembers thinking, she would have appreciated hearing throughout their eight hour drive that day. “We’d like two rooms, please—”
“Here.” The attendant’s gum snapped in his mouth as he reached behind himself and grabbed an old key with a flimsy blue plastic tag from a wall of empty pegs. “Queen sized bed, the first door on the left. It’ll do you two nicely.”
“Um, no.” Harry cleared his throat loudly as he gave a slight shake of his head. “We need two rooms.”
Finally, the attendant looked towards them, his eyes scanning Harry before Y/N. The latter had self consciously pulled her sweater around her, as there was something in the attendant’s eyes that had bothered her. “Don’t have two rooms. I got one room left. Everything else is booked.”
Harry had glanced at Y/N then, and she knew that his thoughts mirrored hers: there was no way that they’d share a queen bed together. No way in hell. They’d barely survived eight hours in the same cramped car without one of them driving them off a cliff. If Y/N had to share a bed with Harry, even for just one night, she’d probably end up smothering him in his sleep before the first snore left his obnoxious mouth.
“That’s really not an option.” Y/N had stepped forward then, crossing her arms around herself as the attendant’s eyes canvassed her again. “Isn’t there something—”
“Look, lady, I’m telling you what’s available.” The attendant’s eyes continued to flicker between her face and her chest, making Y/N’s skin crawl more and more with every word that fell from his gum-filled mouth. “The room might have a pull out chair—some do, but I couldn’t tell you which. Now do you want to share the room with him or not? If you don’t want to share, then I could try to find something else for just you—”
Before Y/N had the opportunity to respond to the lewd suggestion, Harry was already stepping forward, his body angling protectively in front of her own. She watched from behind as his broad shoulders squared beneath his black t-shirt, his shoulder blades flexing as he straightened up to his full height. When Harry answered, his voice was just as firm as it was dark, lacking its previous polite tone.
“We’ll take the room.” He had said coldly, reaching into his back pocket to pull out his wallet before tossing a few bills on the front desk. “Thanks for the help.”
Yes, Y/N thinks, all of that should have been a sign for the state of the motel room that they now find themselves standing inside.
The same mildew smell from the lobby surrounds them, permeating through every inch of air that Y/N breathes in. Dust seems to coat every surface as well, with thick layers of it covering the decades old TV and stand, the small coffee table, and the ledge of the window to her right. To her relief, there is a small arm chair in the corner, which must be the pull out that the attendant had mentioned. However, her relief is short lived when she sees the ratty beige comforter on the bed, and wonders if maybe sleeping in Harry’s car, which she had sworn to him that she didn’t want to do, might have been the better choice.
Harry shuts the door behind them with a firm thud, turning the deadbolt lock before attaching the chain from the door to the door frame. “Let’s keep that locked, yeah?” He mutters, walking to the window and making sure the beige curtains—everything in the room is a sea of beige, like some sort of khaki coloured nightmare—are pulled closed tightly. “I don’t trust that front-desk prick not to sneak in here.”
Y/N nods, fixing the strap of her duffel bag with her overnight clothes on her shoulder. She’s not quite sure where to set it down, as everything around them seems to have been sitting stagnant and uncleaned for a while. “Yeah. Thanks, by the way. For that.”
Harry acknowledges her thanks with a small grunt, barely lifting his head to look at her. “You don’t need to thank me.”
Despite her gratitude for his actions, Y/N can’t stop herself from rolling her eyes at his gruff response. “Jesus, can you not just say you’re welcome?”
Harry chooses to ignore her comment, and instead sets his bag down on the arm chair, unzipping it roughly. “You can take the bed.” He says simply, tossing his sunglasses into his bag before pulling out a small bag filled with what Y/N assumes are toiletries. “I’ll take the pullout.”
“Fine.” Y/N reluctantly sets her own bag down on the creaking bed, pulling back the covers to check for anything unsightly. To her relief, the interior of the bed looks cleaner than the exterior, and she returns the covers to their previous position before grabbing her phone charger from her duffel.
Harry glances at her as she gingerly sits on the bed and plugs her phone into the wall. “I’m going to shower.” He says slowly, as if gauging her reaction to the simple phrase. “Do you, um, need in there, or—?”
“Nope.” Y/N shakes her head, her cheeks flushing slightly as she checks her messages. “You’re good.” She keeps her eyes glued to her phone until she hears the click of the bathroom door behind Harry, signalling that she’s alone.
Taking advantage of what she knows will be a rare moment of solitude over the next week, Y/N changes from her tank top and leggings into her pajamas, wishing that her past self had realized how likely it would be that she’d be sharing a room with Harry. She’d brought exactly two pairs of pajamas with her on the trip, and neither pairs were something she wanted Harry to see her in. The first pair, a baby pink silk set she’d bought on a whim from her favourite lingerie shop, is eliminated before Y/N even considers them, leaving her with just her usual casual pajamas. Unfortunately, Y/N’s usual casual pajamas consist of an old sports bra that she’d had since moving to L.A., and a pair of men’s boxers that she stole from an ex in college. Still, despite her hesitancy, she knows that plaid boxers and a faded grey sports bra are better than pink silk and lace, and she changes into them quickly before sitting cross-legged on the bed and dialing Jo’s number.
Jo, like she usually does, answers on the third ring, her voice extra chipper to compensate for the verbal lecture that she knows is coming. “Hey, Y/N! How was driving today?”
“It would have been better if I’d known Harry was driving.” Y/N sighs, rubbing her palm over the cold skin of her exposed thigh. “Shouldn’t I have been informed of that decision?”
“It completely slipped my mind, actually.” Jo says casually, and Y/N can just picture her leaning her chin into her palm. “How was the first day? Are you calling to ask me to help bury his body in the desert? Because, like, you know I would in a heart beat, but I think it may put a damper on mine and Laure’s nuptials if my best friend murders her best friend.”
“No one’s been murdered. Yet.” Y/N glances at the bathroom door, the sound of the shower echoing through the vents and into the bedroom. “Although a ‘help me hide the body’ phone call may be coming soon.”
“Uh oh.” Y/N hears something crackling against the speaker, and pictures Jo shifting the phone from one ear to the other. “Is it that bad?”
Y/N pinches the bridge of her nose as she contemplates the easiest way to answer Jo’s question. “He’s such an irritating ass. He really is.” She lowers her voice, but only slightly. If Harry’s eavesdropping, she thinks, then let him hear. It would serve him right. “He wanted to pick a fight over every little thing, and he’s so particular about his car—did you know he named it? He named it, Jo. He talks about it like it’s a person!”
A loud sigh echoes through the speaker. “That’s really not that weird, you know.” Jo replies in her best peace keeping voice. “And, by the way, did you know that you’re really the only person who finds Harry irritating? Laure adores him, and I really like him, and everyone who meets him thinks he’s very thoughtful!”
“Then they haven’t been trapped in a car with him and his playlists for eight hours.” Y/N begins to tap her fingers against her knee in a quick staccato pattern. “He practically interrogated me about Brant today, as if he has any clue about the people I date.”
“Did he?” There’s a trace of curiosity in Jo’s voice now, and Y/N can imagine her leaning forward in interest. “What did he say?”
“He said he thinks he’s boring.” Twisting a lock of her hair behind her ear as she speaks, Y/N leaves her hand resting against her cheek. “He was rude about it, too. I didn’t ask for his opinion.”
“Well, honestly, Y/N…” Jo’s curiosity twists into hesitation. “Brant isn’t exactly the most thrilling person. You know that.”
Y/N tugs her bottom lip between her teeth, her cheeks flushing for what seems to be the millionth time that day. “I’m aware of that. But he didn’t need to be so smug about it!”
“Okay, well, what’s done is done.” Jo says as she takes on her mediator persona once again. “So there’s nothing else to do now except go to sleep, get back in the car tomorrow, and continue driving.”
The sound of the shower stream cuts off, leaving just the pitter patter of rain beginning to hit the roof of the motel as ambiant noise. “I guess.” Y/N mumbles, fidgeting with the waistband of her bra. “I’ll talk to you later. Love you.”
“Love you, too.”
After the line clicks dead, Y/N flops back on the squeaking mattress and begins to scroll through her phone, opening her work email to check if everything is running okay back home while she’s gone. On top of all this, the last thing she needs is for her work to completely blow up in her absence. Within minutes, Y/N becomes so engrossed in her phone that she doesn’t even notice the bathroom door creaking open and Harry walking out with just a towel around his waist.
Until she looks up, and then her mind goes completely blank.
Immediately, Y/N feels overstimulated. There’s just…so much going on that she doesn’t even know where to look first, let alone have the ability to remind herself that she shouldn’t even be looking at Harry like this in the first place.
Harry’s curls are soaking wet, curling down around his flushed cheeks in a way that, if it were anyone else, she’d immediately describe as attractive. Droplets of water are clinging to every inch of his skin, his toned and tanned and tattooed skin, that seems to continue forever as her eyes travel down his bare chest, noticing every curve of his muscle. His jade cross, which is almost the exact shade of his eyes, sits between his pronounced pectoral muscles, moving ever so slightly with each step he takes. Y/N notices tattoos she’s never seen before, like the giant butterfly across his toned stomach, and—her mind goes blank for just a moment—two vines that are tattooed over his prominent pelvic muscles, which just barely dip beneath the white towel that’s wrapped loosely around his hips.
As Y/N’s eyes glue themselves to the way Harry’s towel is moving as he walks, arousal begins to pool in her stomach, travelling all the way down to her core and back again. For a split second, she thinks that maybe Harry is right. Maybe she doesn’t want to fuck Brant, because she knows for certain that she’s never thought about him the way she’s thinking about Harry in this moment.
But it’s Harry, she reminds herself, as she tries to force herself to snap her gaping mouth closed. Underneath all those muscles and tattoos—and there are a lot of muscles and tattoos—it’s Harry, who annoys her to no end, who is one of the most self-absorbed individuals she’s ever met, and who has had it out for her since the day they met.
“Sorry.” Harry’s low accent snaps Y/N from her thoughts and pulls her wandering eyes back to his face. “Forgot my clothes out here.”
“It’s—” Y/N’s voice cracks in the middle of the word, still hyper-focused on just how it’s possible for one person to be as attractive as they are irritating, and she clears her throat before trying to speak again. “It’s fine.”
If Harry notices the slip in Y/N’s voice, he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he just walks to his open bag, locking one hand firmly over his towel as the other searches through his clothes. He pulls out a t-shirt and a pair of shorts, examining them for just a moment before nodding in satisfaction and heading back to the bathroom. Y/N almost swears that she sees him glance at her one last time before he shuts the door, but then she gets lost in the taut muscles of his back, and forgets what she’s thinking entirely.
She’s only just begun to contemplate that maybe she should pull herself together when the door opens again, and Harry exits the bathroom in a way that’s a little more presentable. His hair is still damp, but his body is dry, proven by the faded Rolling Stones t-shirt that’s now clinging to his arms and the boxers that are hanging low on his hips. His tattooed hips. His incredibly sexy tattooed hips that could probably—
“What are you wearing?” Harry asks, raising an eyebrow at her as he moves his bag from the chair to the ground. He begins to unfold the bed from the armchair cushions to reveal a creaking twin bed, carefully stretching it out as he waits for an answer.
“I—pajamas.” Y/N glances down at herself self consciously, fixing the strap of her sports bra as she does so. “I just—I didn’t think we’d be sharing a room, so…”
Harry nods tersely as he finishes setting up the bed, his expression unreadable while he walks to the closet and grabs a set of sheets and a blanket. “Cute boxers.” He says casually. “Are they Brant’s?”
Within a flash, the intense rush of attraction and desire Y/N had been feeling is gone, and is instead replaced by the familiar irritation as she watches a smirk grow in the very corner of Harry’s mouth. “No.” She says flatly, turning her attention back to her phone.
“Interesting.” Harry says slowly, laying the sheets and blanket on the bed in a haphazard manner. “Whose are they, then?”
Y/N gets up from the bed and grabs her toiletry bag from her duffel before answering. “An ex.” She says shortly, tucking the patterned bag under her arm. “And why does it matter to you?”
The sound of the rain against the roof and windows gets louder and louder as they speak, and Harry raises his voice to be heard over the precipitation. “It doesn’t.” He shrugs as he maneuvers his lanky body under the blanket without causing the bed to fold in on itself. “Just curious, that’s all.”
“Well, you don’t need to be curious.” Y/N opens the bathroom door, sparing one last withering glance at Harry over her shoulder. He’s sitting up on the bed with one leg hanging out from beneath the covers as one hand plays with his hair, the other fiddles with a ring on his finger, and the way he looks at her from the corner of his eye lights a fire in Y/N’s chest. Except she can’t tell if it’s a fire of anger or arousal.
When she slams the door behind her, it’s her own confusion over that distinction that frustrates her more than anything else.
…
“Took you long enough.” Harry scoffs while leaning against the side of his car, his white t-shirt a contrast to the dust covered body of the black Chevy Impala. His dark sunglasses are perched on top of his head, keeping his unruly curls out of his eyes, while his arms are crossed over his chest impatiently as he waits for an answer. “I dropped off the keys ten minutes ago.”
By way of explanation, Y/N holds up the cardboard drink tray in her hands, a brown bag balancing in between the two coffee cups. “I was getting us breakfast, Styles. Calm down.” She walks to the passenger side of the car, opening the door and climbing in one handed. “I figured you’d be even crabbier hungry.”
“You mean you’d be crabbier without caffeine.” Harry retorts, climbing into the driver’s side in one smooth motion. “Here—” He takes the tray from her so she can buckle her seatbelt, carefully removing the two coffees and setting them in the cup holders between them. “Just be careful not to spill anything.”
Y/N rolls her eyes as she picks up the coffee closest to her (she’d gotten them both black). “Why? Worried about me ruining Stevie?”
Harry reaches into his pocket, pulling out his keys as he gives her an irritated look. “Yes, actually. I’ve put a lot of work into her.” The car roars to life as Harry turns the key in the ignition, buckling his own seat as the motor warms up. “Adding on two thousand miles to her in five days is already worrisome enough, and that’s not even counting the other two thousand she’ll get on the way back.”
Y/N doesn’t respond to the comment, and instead lets the sound of Harry’s playlist fill the silence of the car as Harry peels out of the Motel 6 parking lot. She’ll be glad to leave that place behind, she thinks, and focus on finding something better—and more private—for tonight, wherever they end up.
Harry, however, doesn’t seem content with letting silence fall between them. “How did you sleep last night?” He asks after a few moments, one hand on the steering wheel as he takes a sip of his coffee.
Glancing at him from the corner of her eye suspiciously, Y/N reaches into the paper bag and grabs her Danish, taking a small bite before answering. “Not great.”
“Was the bed bad?” Harry asks curiously, his brow furrowing while his eyes stay glued to the road, moving only to glance at the occasion sign directing him back to the highway. “The pull out wasn’t great, but I’ve slept on worse. I would’ve thought the bed would be better than that.”
“No, it—I mean, the bed wasn’t amazing, but it—” Y/N clears her throat and swallows the bite of pastry in her mouth. “I, uh, I don’t sleep well when it’s raining.”
At this new information, Harry’s eyebrow quirks up, and he risks a look in her direction to attempt to read her face. Y/N’s own eyes are focused on the Danish in her hands, refusing to meet his gaze as she lifts the pastry to her mouth to take another bite.
“You don’t?” Harry asks after a moment, the confusion in his voice almost visible within the space between them. “But it’s like white noise, isn’t it? Supposed to be relaxing, and all that.”
Y/N gives a half shrug of her shoulders. “It’s—well, it’s not the rain, exactly, just—what it’s usually paired with.” Y/N hopes that her clear hesitancy to answer will be enough of a signal to Harry for him to drop the subject. Harry, however, doesn’t seem to pick up on the reluctance in Y/N’s voice; or, at least, he doesn’t care enough to acknowledge it.
“What do you mean, what it’s paired with?” Harry takes a small sip of his own coffee, careful of the temperature of the liquid. “Like…wind, or—?”
Y/N debates back and forth with herself internally, but she knows that Harry won’t drop the subject without getting a satisfying answer. “Thunder.” She answers finally, setting her coffee down in her cup holder before turning her gaze towards her window. “I don’t like thunderstorms, ever since I was a little kid, and when it’s raining, it always feels like thunder is around the corner. Puts me on edge, like I’m waiting for it. And I can’t sleep.”
“So you never sleep when it rains?” Harry asks slowly, and the tone of incredulous disbelief in Harry’s voice is enough for Y/N to be able to imagine the expression on his face. His forest green eyes wide, strawberry pink lips agape, brow furrowed in confusion, his jaw slack as he contemplates a response to a grown woman admitting that she’s afraid of thunder. The image in her head is enough to make the back of her neck flush.
There’s a tightness in the back of her throat, and Y/N attempts to clear it again before answering. “Never.”
“Huh.” Harry taps his fingers against the gear shift in succession three times. “You’d hate London, then.”
The casual comment catches Y/N by surprise, but she doesn’t allow herself to lower her guard. “That’s why I don’t live in London.” She mumbles the words as her fingers pick at the napkin wrapped around her Danish. “I picked L.A. for a reason. It has lots of heat, barely any rain, and I’m reasonably close to Disneyland whenever I feel like I need something magical.” The last part slips out without Y/N thinking, and the flush creeps further up her neck as a surprised laugh leaves Harry’s mouth.
“Something magical?” Harry repeats, new crinkles appearing next to his eyes as he laughs, as if the dimples that crease his cheeks aren’t proof of his amusement enough. “Do you frequently feel like you need something magical?”
It’s Y/N’s turn to give an incredulous look now, her body half twisting towards Harry to observe his confusing reactions. “How did I just admit that I’m afraid of thunder, and the thing you’re focusing on is that I like Disney?”
Harry shrugs at her words, flicking on his turn signal to exit towards the highway. “I don’t know.” He says as he peers over his shoulder to check for oncoming cars. “I mean, everyone has fears. Not liking thunder isn’t exactly uncommon, you know. However, hearing that Ms. Serious Type A Perfectionist likes magic—” His grin grows bigger by the second. “Now that’s surprising.”
“Oh, shut up.” Y/N mutters, finishing her Danish in a few more bites. She waits until she’s entirely finished chewing before continuing the conversation over the voice of Billy Joel coming through the speakers. “Since I’ve admitted something I’m afraid of…” She starts, glancing at Harry from the corner of her eye. “I think it’s only fair that you admit something, too.”
Harry snorts in response, his hand freezing its movement with his coffee cup still half lifted to his lips. “Is that so?”
“Mhmm.” Y/N hums as she slips off her shoes in order to pull her legs beneath her to fold into a cross-legged position on the car seat. “Not so much fun when it’s your turn, huh? C’mon, what’s the Brit scared of? Not enough biscuits for afternoon tea?”
A short and harsh breath of air leaves Harry’s nose, half a snort as he sets his coffee down in his cupholder. “No, actually, diminishing biscuit levels are a low level fear for me.”
“Then what’s a higher one?” Y/N prods, watching as Harry’s neck muscles tense as he shoulder checks to change lanes. There’s something about the movement that catches her eye, but she can’t quite figure out why—or rather, she can, but she’d rather pretend that she’s unaware.
“Uh…” Harry’s fingers nimbly switch on his turn signal before he transitions to the left lane, his right hand moving the gear shift to its desired place. “Crowds. I’m not a fan of big crowds, really. Like when everyone’s pressed together, so tight that you can’t breathe, and you can’t hear yourself think because it’s so loud…yeah. I don’t like that.”
The simple answer surprises Y/N as much as she imagines her answer surprised Harry. “Crowds?” She repeats back to him, a forgotten memory of long gone conversations coming to the forefront of her mind. “But what about, like, concerts and stuff? Laure always told me when she’d go to shows with you…”
“That’s different.” Harry shrugs as one of his ringed hands comes to his lips, rubbing over them slowly as he contemplates his next words. “I…When I’m at concerts, I always go with someone, and if we’re in the general seating area, where there’s a lot of people, I always stick with them. Like, sometimes, if it’s getting crowded, or people are pushing, Laure will hold my hand, so…” Redness begins to creep up Harry’s pale neck, staining the tops of his ears a deep berry colour as he trails off.
Not for the first time since their conversation began, Y/N is surprised at how candid they’re being with each other. As she watches Harry’s blush grow, she feels her own diminish, a physical representation of her trading her embarrassment for something more empathetic.
“I get it.” Y/N says after a moment, once it’s clear that Harry isn’t going to continue. “When there’s thunderstorms, um, I feel better when I’m with someone, or talking to someone. It makes me feel less…”
“Alone?” Harry finishes for her, his eyes flickering from the road to her profile. His green irises capture hers for longer than they should, his focus completely gone from the stretch of highway for at least five seconds before Harry’s attention turns back to driving. “Yeah.” He says slowly, pulling his sunglasses down from his hair to hide his eyes. “Yeah, less alone. It helps.”
Y/N nods slowly, unable to look away from Harry’s side profile. It’s apparent that he’s on edge after their conversation, and she knows her body language is the same. Tight in the shoulders, hands clenched, back rigidly straight. And yet, seeing her own body language reflected in front of her bothers her. Part of her wants to reach out and take Harry’s hand, soothe him like Laure does in the crowd of a concert, but she knows that’s ridiculous. It’s ridiculous, and it’s Harry, and Harry, of all people, does not need her comfort. Not in the slightest.
She watches as Harry clenches his fist on top of his thigh.
…
“Is this really necessary?” Y/N asks, slamming her car door shut as Harry does the same on the other side of the vehicle. She leans over the roof of the car, crossing her arms on the cool metal as she tilts her head to the side in an inquisitive manner. The clouds in the sky are getting darker by the minute, signalling the beginning of the storm that canceled her flight, and the angry black colour above their heads is making Y/N anxious.
Harry, however, seems unbothered by the gathering storm, and nods tersely as he pushes his sunglasses up onto his head before opening the door to the backseat and grabbing his army green jacket. “Of course it’s necessary.” He says, slipping the jacket over his broad shoulders before slamming the door shut and locking the car. “I’ve never been to Utah before. I want a souvenir.”
“Okay, but—” Y/N follows Harry as he walks towards the dilapidated building in front of them. “Here? Really? Does this seem like the best place?”
Harry glances at her over his shoulder at her, pausing his long strides to look up at the building he spotted from the highway. If the chipped grey paint that was once pastel blue and dust-coated windows are any sign, the structure is probably older than Harry and Y/N combined, with a splintered front porch wrapping around its small perimeter. The building has one faded sign above the door that reads “SOUVENIRS/SNACKS” in hand-painted capital letters, and seems to be hanging onto the outside façade by three small bolts and sheer willpower. Y/N’s almost certain that she’s seen this exact building in a horror movie before someone gets murdered, and while getting back into the car with Harry isn’t at the top of her list of wants, it’s certainly preferable to getting stabbed to death by a serial killer.
“It’s fine, Y/N.” Harry waves off her concern without a second thought about the appearance of the shop. “If you’re really bothered, you can wait in the car.”
Y/N considers it for a moment, but decides against it. She needs to stretch her legs, and honestly, Harry seems too trusting. He probably wouldn’t be able to tell if someone was sketchy until their knife was in his back. And, seeing as how he has the keys to the only getaway car available, Y/N kind of needs him around without a stab wound carved into his flesh.
“Let’s just get this over with.” She sighs, pulling her own jacket around her tighter as she steps over the worn wooden steps to the door. “We’re on a schedule.”
When Harry pushes open the door, the smell of stale air hits Y/N before anything else. Despite one open window and a fan in the corner of the shop that’s being used in a weak attempt to circulate the air, it feels like nothing fresh has been in the shop for a while. Y/N shoots a glance at Harry, caution and warning written all over her face.
While Harry sees her glance, he waves off her concern, turning his attention to the few shelves and wire racks around the small shop that are lined with inventory. Within a few moments, he’s entertaining himself in the post card section, comparing different photos of the Utah landscape to each other with great care and concern. Y/N observes him for a few moments before wandering off on her own towards the snack section of the shop. Although there are a few items that she thinks about picking up, the thick layer of dust over the packaging puts her off from purchasing them. She grimaces as she continues walking, stopping in front of a tower of silver key chains in the back corner of the shop. Most of them, she finds, are crosses and bible verses, and all of them give her an ominous feeling in her stomach. Y/N runs her finger over a miniature silver version of the Ten Commandments, worrying her bottom lip between her teeth as she does so.
“I think we should go, Harry.” She calls to him without turning around, setting the key chain back down on the rack carefully. “Just pick your post card and—Harry?”
When Y/N turns around, Harry’s broad figure is nowhere to be seen. She walks back over to the post card section slowly, her brow furrowed with confusion as a knot tightens in her stomach. Where could he be? She wonders, running her hand along the dusty wire rack in front of her. It’s not like there’s anywhere for him to go in the small shop, and she would have heard if he left, or if he drove away.
“Harry?” She calls again, her steps slower now as worry fills her voice. “Where did you—fuck—!” Y/N screams as something grabs her from behind, its fingers digging into her sides harshly. She whips around to find Harry standing over her, loud outbursts of laughter spilling from his strawberry pink mouth at the look on her face.
An indignant flush rushes over Y/N’s face. “You’re such an ass!” She hisses, gripping his shoulders and shoving his laughing frame away from her. “I swear, you’re like a five year old—”
“Did I worry you?” Harry snickers between his words, a wicked look of mischief alight in his dark green eyes. “Were you afraid something happened to me?”
Y/N’s cheeks burn with anger as she turns away from him, crossing her arms defiantly. “No. I wish something had happened to you. Then I wouldn’t have to deal with your immature antics.”
Harry’s lips stay quirked up in a smirk as he follows her, his voice falling into a singsong tone. “You were worried.” He insists, chuckles still rolling out of him every few moments. “I could tell.”
“Oh, fuck off.” Y/N snaps at him in an irritated voice. “Just pay for your stupid post card and let’s go.”
“I already did. There’s a sign on the desk saying the clerk is out for lunch, so I left some money.” Harry nods to the small desk in the corner with a few dollars left tucked under the dusty service bell. “I think that’ll cover it, yeah?”
“Whatever.” Y/N can’t resist shoving Harry one last time before walking towards the shop door. “That’s enough. Let’s go. I want to make it to the motel before the storm hits.”
…
The nice thing about Grand Junction, Colorado, Y/N realizes, is that their motels have multiple single rooms available on short notice. While she didn’t realize the importance of this fact before this trip started, having an evening of solitude and her own stable space away from Harry for the first time in two days is nothing short of a blessing.
When she gets inside her private motel room, which, while still shabby, is leagues above their previous motel, Y/N locks the door before breathing a sigh of relief. Just the silence in the room is wonderful, and even though she knows Harry is right next door, having a wall between them is a luxury that she doesn’t take for granted. When she showers, she doesn’t have to worry about being quick, or toweling off as fast as she can so she can get dressed inside the bathroom without Harry seeing. There’s no need to worry about anyone hearing Y/N sing quietly to herself under the (albeit weak) stream of the shower, nor is there an uncomfortable stick of her sports bra to her back caused by water droplets that she couldn’t reach in her hurry to dry off. And after her shower, with some of the knots from her back finally worked out, Y/N is able to stretch out on the double bed in the center of the room, her phone in her hand as she reaches for the takeout menus stacked on the bedside table. She peruses the menus available before settling on Chinese takeout, and within five minutes, her order of a two entrée plate and fried rice is on its way.
Y/N sighs gently as she leans back on the pillows, wishing that she and Harry had stopped at a liquor store before coming to the motel. She knows she could probably walk to one, but now that she’s showered and comfortable, the last thing she wants to do is wander around Grand Junction until she finds a bottle of Moscato. Instead, Y/N flicks on the TV with a click of the ancient remote, and begins scrolling through the channels until she finds a rerun of Dirty Dancing that’s just starting.
An amused yet wry smile appears on Y/N’s lips. It’s this movie’s fault that she and Harry are on an impromptu road trip, really. Jo and Laure both loved it, and were insistent that they had to get married at a resort in the Catskills similar to one from the film. As her two friends cross her mind, Y/N settles into the sheets as Baby begins her narration, contemplating whether or not she should call Jo to check in. Just as the thought pops into her head, however, the phone rings.
Y/N answers within a moment, not bothering to check the caller ID. She and Jo had a strange habit of calling each other the moment the other thought of it, and when she raises her phone to her ear, she expects to hear her best friend’s familiar voice reply. “Hello?”
What voice she actually hears, however, surprises her. “Hey, Y/N. I’m glad I got through.” Brant says easily, his voice crackling slightly through the speaker. “How are you?”
“Brant!” Y/N jerks up in bed in surprise, the remote falling from its perch on her stomach onto the sheets. “I—I’m fine. How are you?”
“Oh, alright. Just busy with work, but that’s the usual.” Y/N can practically picture the neutral expression on his face, and how he’d shrug his shoulders as he speaks. “How’s the road trip? I can’t imagine driving for as long as you have to drive.”
“It’s…it’s alright, yeah.” Y/N speaks slowly as she puts her phone on speaker, balancing it on her knee while her hands begin to fidget with her rings. “Long, but not too bad.”
“Well, that’s good.” Brant clears his throat thickly, as if what he’s about to say makes him uncomfortable. “I miss you, though. And our weekly dinners.”
A feeling of guilt washes over Y/N. Truthfully, besides Harry’s inquisition on the first day of driving, Brant has barely crossed her mind. Granted, he isn’t usually at the forefront of her mind while she’s in L.A., either, but for the last few days, her thoughts have been constantly consumed by the stress of making it to the wedding and her annoyance and frustration with Harry.
“Y/N?” Brant’s voice crackles through her speaker again. “Are you there?
“I—yeah.” She says quickly, pulling herself from her thoughts. “Sorry, just—long day. I’m tired.”
“I can imagine.” Brant says sympathetically, but there’s something in his tone that almost sounds patronizing. “Who are you driving with? Have you been taking turns?”
Y/N pauses the fidgeting of her rings before snatching her phone from its balanced place on her knee. She quickly opens her messages and scrolls to her thread with Brant, searching through the text bubbles for a reminder of what she’d said to him. Had she not told him that she was traveling with Harry?
Within a moment, Y/N confirms that she hadn’t. All she had said was that she was getting a ride with someone. Why had she done that, she wonders? She’s sure she’s mentioned Harry in passing to Brant at least once. When she talked about the wedding, probably. As she thinks about it more, however…what had she told Brant about the wedding? About Jo? How much does he actually know about her personal life? Most of their dinner conversations revolve around work, or some book both of them have read. Had the topic ever come up in detail?
“I’m, um, I’m driving with one of Laure’s friends.” Y/N brings the phone closer to her mouth as her other hand works its way to her mouth. She begins to chew on a hangnail absentmindedly between her words, something she always does when her nerves begin to get to her. She can’t count the number of times Jo has grasped her wrist and pulled her hand from her mouth to chastise her about the habit. “We’re…we’re in Colorado now.”
“Oh, Colorado. That’s nice.” Brant says over the rustling of papers. “Listen, Y/N, I’ve got some work to get back to, but I’m glad we had this talk. I’ll call you again soon.”
“Uh, yeah. Sure. I’ll talk to you later.” Y/N nods, and then the line goes dead. Out of curiosity, Y/N checks the length of the call. The time 3:09 blinks back at her.
Tossing her phone back down on the covers, Y/N resumes her relaxed position in bed, despite being anything but relaxed after that phone call. She should feel guilty, she thinks, for not telling Brant about Harry. But then again, what’s there to tell? She said she was getting a ride with one of Laure’s friends, and that’s true. She hadn’t lied. And even if Brant did know that the friend is Harry, why would he care? It’s just Harry. There’s no reason for Brant to be alarmed, because there’s nothing going on. And she and Brant…Y/N glances down at the call time again. Things are different between them. There’s…they’re comfortable as they are, she thinks. They’re not dating, and they’re comfortable like that. So there’s no reason to tell him about Harry, because there’s nothing to tell. Nothing at all.
Y/N refocuses on the TV screen, where Patrick Swayze is dancing in a tight black tank top. Right. Nothing to tell.
…
When Y/N leaves her motel room the next morning with her bag over her shoulder, Harry is already waiting by his car, leaning against the dusty black body with two coffee cups in his hands. He’s dressed in another black t-shirt (Y/N wonders just how many identical copies of the same shirt Harry has) with usual jeans covering his long legs. His curls are tied out of his face with a dark green bandana, and Y/N knows that if his eyes weren’t covered with his black sunglasses, the bandana would make them even brighter than they usually are.
“Hey.” Harry calls to her, extending a ringed hand that holds a coffee cup towards her as she walks over. “I got the coffee this morning. You drink it black, right?”
Y/N nods as she takes the cup from him, careful not to brush over his fingers with her own. “Yeah. Thanks.”
“No problem.” Harry crosses around to the back of the car, opening the trunk with a turn of his key. “Here.” Harry holds out his free hand for Y/N’s bag, taking it from her and setting it down on top of the suitcases in the back. “I got it.”
Y/N regards Harry with a bemused look as she wraps both hands around her coffee cup. “Thanks?” She says again, more questioning this time as she looks at him strangely. “I can do that myself, you know.”
“I know. I’m just trying to be polite.” Harry’s voice takes on its usual bite like he’s flipping a switch. “Is that alright with you, princess?”
Within a second, the familiar irritation with Harry returns to Y/N, and it’s almost comforting to snap back at him in a testy voice. “Don’t call me that.”
Harry snickers under his breath, and although the sound makes Y/N’s annoyance grow, she detects a different tone in it than a few days before. Before she can place a finger on why it sounds different, however, Harry is climbing into the driver’s side of the car and starting the engine.
The two of them are silent as Harry finds his way back to the highway, and they stay in that silence for the first few hours of that day’s leg of the trip. As the third hour begins to pass, Y/N is content listening to the throaty and captivating voice of Stevie Nicks fill the cab of the car. By the second chorus of the song, Y/N is humming along quietly, her foot tapping to the same beat that Harry’s fingers are spelling out against the steering wheel. It’s comfortable, she thinks after a moment. The silence between them. It feels different than it did on their first day, when Y/N was questioning her choice to get into a car with Harry and commit to a 42 hour drive. The silence seems to be fueled more by comfort than tension. It’s…refreshing.
A memory from the first day ignites in the back of her mind, a spark so bright and obvious that she can’t believe it took her so long to see it. “Stevie.” Y/N says suddenly, turning to Harry as a smile spreads over her face. “You named your car Stevie, as in Stevie Nicks?”
Harry laughs, his shoulders moving up and down beneath his black t-shirt from the motion. One hand lifts from the steering wheel and points a finger gun at her. “Took you long enough. I was wondering how many days you’d have to listen to my music to get it.”
Y/N gives his hand a light shove. “I was too distracted by the fact that you named your car.” She rolls her eyes, bringing her bottle of water to her lips for a short sip. “I still think it’s weird.”
“It gives her character.” Harry defends himself as he rubs a hand over the steering wheel absentmindedly. Y/N can see the mirth swirling around in his light irises. “A bit of personality. Just because you don’t value personalities doesn’t mean anyone else doesn’t.”
“I don’t value personalities?” Turning in her seat to stare at Harry head on, Y/N raises an eyebrow in question. “What’s that supposed to mean?”
“Just your taste in men, that’s all.” Harry says it casually, like it really can just be a “that’s all” type of sentence.
Within a heart beat, the comfortable atmosphere in the car turns to ice as Y/N straightens in her seat, her spine tense, tightening every nerve in her body along with it. “What the fuck does that mean?”
When Harry glances at her again, his eyes darken, his guard going up as he senses the shift in Y/N’s tone. “Nothing, just…motel rooms have thin walls.” Harry mumbles, having the decency to keep his eyes on the road as his ears redden slightly. “And from what I overheard, Brant doesn’t exactly seem…stimulating.”
Y/N sputters indignantly for a moment, unable to form a coherent response as anger rises in her chest. “You—” She sucks in a quick breath that hits the back of her throat harshly. “You eavesdropped on me?”
Harry licks his lips once, clearing his throat once before answering. The tapping of his fingers against the steering wheel has resumed, his nervousness apparent in his movements as well as his facial expressions. “Not on purpose. I told you, the walls were thin.”
“So put in head phones!” Y/N exclaims, gripping her water bottle so tight that her fingers begin to strain in protest against the metal exterior. She has half a mind to throw the bottle at Harry in her anger, barely able to talk herself down from the ledge of the idea.
Harry’s posture shifts in his seat as his shoulders square, and Y/N can practically see his defensive side emerge from within his chest. “It’s not like you two were having phone sex.” He rolls his eyes at the idea. “It was the most boring conversation in the world, and lasted, what, three minutes? Makes you wonder how long he lasts in other ways, doesn’t it?”
“Stop the car.” Y/N’s voice is low and void of emotion as she replies, her body turned back forward in her seat.
“Am I wrong? It’s not like you know for sure—”
Anger bubbles over in Y/N’s chest, cancelling out any rational thought she has inside her and leaving pure, unadulterated fury. “Stop the car, Harry! Now!”
Harry half jumps in his seat when Y/N yells, and he quickly jerks the car to the side of the highway without so much as a turn signal. Pulling her seatbelt off as he pulls over, Y/N is out the door before Harry can so much as put the car into neutral. While her more rational mind would tell her that she has nowhere to walk to along a highway in Colorado as the sky darkens to an angry black above them, the only thing she’s thinking of is getting away from Harry. Stupid, self-absorbed, ignorant, and rude Harry.
“Y/N—” The sound of Harry scrambling out of the car and slamming the door behind him pushes her to walk faster. “Y/N, come back—”
Y/N turns around on her heel fast and hard, heart pounding so fast that she thinks it might break through her ribs. “What is your problem?” She hisses, pointing an accusatory finger at him. “Why do you insist on being so—so nasty about him? You don’t even know him!”
Harry freezes where he is as the wind whips his hair around his face, his bandana barely keeping the messy curls in place. “I don’t—” His speech falters, and he sucks in a sharp breath before continuing. “I don’t think I’m being…nasty.”
“Well, you are!” Y/N takes a deep breath in, placing her hands over her stomach as it expands with air. It’s a trick that Jo taught her back in high school, as a way to ground herself to her body. Feeling the movement of air in and out of her lungs helps calm her, even if by just a fraction. “Brant is just—he’s someone I’m talking to. We’ve gone on dates, but we’re not dating, and even though we’re not dating, that doesn’t mean that you can insinuate things about him, or eavesdrop on our private conversations!”
Harry’s jaw tenses as he listens to Y/N speak, waiting until she’s finished her speech to respond in a harsh and clipped tone. “I already told you, I didn’t mean to eavesdrop. And I’m teasing you. It’s supposed to be a joke. Isn’t that what friends do?”
“But we’re not friends, Harry.” Y/N’s voice is flat, the fury in her tone replaced with a hollow emptiness. “We’re not friends. I don’t need you teasing me about a boy like we’re buddies, or whatever, because we’re not.”
Although Harry opens his mouth to respond, no words cross over the edges of his pink lips. His jaw tightens even more as he closes his mouth again, and Y/N can see a million things flitting through his green irises, which are getting darker by the moment. Y/N’s not certain if the darkness is from her words, or the black sky rolling above them that’s sapping the light of day from the atmosphere, and she’s not sure if she can take the answer either way. Part of her knows that maybe—just maybe—she’s blown this whole thing out of proportion, and maybe she should examine why Harry making fun of Brant bothers her like it does. It’s not like she’s unaware of his shortcomings, she thinks, but then she wonders why she’s now seeing them as shortcomings, when a week ago, she saw them as positives. Y/N never has to worry about Brant being too much for her, or forgetful, or scatterbrained—he’s organized, and secure, and stable, and that’s what she likes. It’s always been what she likes.
Harry’s delayed response tears Y/N from her thoughts. “Not friends. Got it.” He mutters, rubbing his hand over his stubbled and taut cheeks. “Just get back in the car, then. Let’s go.”
…
“Hello! My name is Gracie, I’ll be your server today.” The waitress in the tiny diner smiles at Harry and Y/N, a notepad in one hand and a half filled coffee pot in the other. “Can I get you guys anything to start?”
“Coffee.” Harry and Y/N speak at the same time, each person’s eyes flickering to the other before looking away. Y/N keeps her eyes focused on her off-white ceramic coffee cup as Gracie fills it, refusing to make eye contact with Harry again.
The last hour has been almost unbearable. After they got back in the car, Harry had turned off his playlist, and for the first time since the road trip had begun, true silence had fallen between them. Y/N had thought she would like it, but truthfully, it had been the worst thing she’d ever heard. Every few minutes, she’d hear Harry shift, or sigh, or tap a tense finger against the gear shift, and she wished that she could say something, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. She’d been grateful when he wordlessly exited the highway and parked in front of a diner, as the conversations of stopped truck drivers and the clatter of a kitchen was a good distraction from their argument.
A movement in the corner of her eye catches her attention, and Y/N glances up just enough to watch Harry slip a pat of butter into his coffee, stirring the contents of the cup with his spoon until it’s melted together. She wrinkles her nose in disgust, and almost opens her mouth to make a comment (“Really, Harry? Just add milk like a regular person, instead of drinking a cup of grease.”), but bites it back before it can fall off her tongue. They’re not exactly in the position to make quips to each other, she thinks, especially after she told him that they weren’t friends.
Which they’re not. They’ve never been friends; that fact isn’t exactly news. Not getting along has been Harry and Y/N’s signature since the day they first met. So why is there a pit in Y/N’s stomach that gets deeper every time Harry looks away from her?
The click of heels alerts Y/N of Gracie’s returned presence before her voice does. “Have you two decided what you’d like to eat?”
“I’ll have a turkey club, please, on whole wheat bread.” Harry folds up his plastic menu carefully. “And a glass of water on the side.”
Gracie nods, taking the menu from him before turning her eyes to Y/N. “And for yourself?”
“Um—” Y/N had barely glanced at the menu, too lost in her thoughts to think about it. “I’ll just have a burger, please. And a water, as well.”
Gracie nods as she writes down the order, taking Y/N’s menu and giving the pair one last smile before disappearing to the kitchen. A fresh wave of silence falls between Harry and Y/N as each of them sips their coffee, both of them doing their best not to look at the person sitting across from them.
Y/N’s best, however, is not up to her usual standard, as she can’t stop herself from stealing a few quick glances while Harry looks out the window. He hasn’t shaved in a couple days, she notices, as the stubble on his cheeks and chin is even darker than it was the day before. There’s a permanent crease between his eyebrows, his face as tense as she’s ever seen it, and a darkness over his whole expression overall. It’s like there’s a new wall up between the two of them, and Y/N’s never felt more detached from him. Which, honestly, is saying something.
She’s looking back down at her own half empty coffee when Harry finally speaks a few minutes later, his voice just as tense as his expression.
“Shit.” He says in a low voice, and then the next sound Y/N hears is that of someone ruffling through pockets.
She looks up to see Harry doing just that, his hands digging through the outer pockets of his army green jacket. “What?” She asks, her curiosity outweighing her need to continue the silent treatment. “What is it?”
“I had the vows in my—my pocket, but they’re—” Harry jams his hands inside a pocket sewn into the lining of his jacket, and Y/N watches as his face visibly relaxes. “Oh, thank God. I thought they fell out.”
Harry removes his hand from his pocket, two folded up notes clutched within his hand. Each one is labeled carefully, one with Jo written in Laure’s neat penmanship, and the other with Laure scribbled in Jo’s quick writing.
Y/N recognizes the papers immediately. It’s easy, really, considering the amount of time she spent helping Jo rewrite draft after draft of the same sentiments. “You have Jo and Laure’s vows?” She questions, her eyebrows raising in surprise. “Why?”
“The same reason you have their wedding bands.” Harry shrugs as he turns the papers over in his careful fingers, making sure not to crease them. “They forgot them.”
A small smile plays on the edge of Y/N’s lips at the memory of her forgetful friends. “Right. Of course.”
Harry’s eyes flicker to Y/N’s mouth at the sign of movement, and he tugs his bottom lip between his teeth before responding. “Want to take a look?”
“At their vows?” Y/N looks around, as if someone could be watching and monitoring them. “I—that doesn’t seem right.”
“Fine. Then don’t look at them.” Harry says easily, setting the note labeled Laure on the table between them. His nimble fingers unfold the paper labeled with Jo’s name as his green irises begin to scan across the sheet. “I’ll read them.”
It only takes a few seconds of watching Harry read over the words for Y/N to crack. “Wait.” She brings her thumb to her mouth, chewing anxiously on her cuticle as Harry quirks an eyebrow at her. “Will you read them to me?”
When she asks, Harry spends so long staring at her that Y/N thinks he’ll refuse. His jade eyes meet hers with an intensity that almost makes her flinch, but Y/N holds his stare, refusing to be the first to back down. Finally, after what seems like an eternity, Harry gives a sharp nod, looking down at the note before he starts to read from the beginning.
“‘My darling Jo’,” He begins, his voice soft and low, his accent thick. “‘It seems so strange that this day is finally here. I feel like we’ve been building up to it ever since the day we first met, and yet it’s always seemed so far away. When I was a little girl, I always’…” Harry trails off as his eyes continue to move across the words, and he clears his throat before attempting to continue to read aloud. “‘I always thought that there was something wrong with me. I thought that the things that I felt, and the way that I loved, was dirty. I thought it was wrong. I thought that—that I was going against God, and against nature, and that I was going to be punished for it. And then I met you’.”
Harry pauses to take a sip of his coffee, and Y/N does the same. There’s a shine beginning to appear in his eyes, and Y/N recognizes it as the beginning of tears because she feels the same thing brimming in her own eyes. She feels a bit guilty for reading the vows, but reasons that it’s for the best. If she were to hear them for the first time at the wedding, she doesn’t think she’d be able to keep it together.
“‘The moment I met you, I knew that the way I loved could never be wrong, or be dirty, because I was loving you’.” Harry’s accent grows thicker the more he reads, and although Y/N hasn’t seem Harry in many different emotional states, she can tell that this is a sign of how the vows are affecting him. “‘Being with you could never be wrong, and God could never get mad at me for it, because only God could create someone as perfect as you. I promise to love you when you wake me up at 3 A.M. because you’ve stolen all the blankets, and I promise to love you at 6 P.M. when you almost burn down our apartment while trying to cook for me. I promise to support you through everything, listen to your stories, and watch in wonder as you make a difference in this world. I promise to never let my anger get the best of me, and to always give you the benefit of the doubt. I promise to love every version of yourself that you grow into, just as I’ve loved all the versions you once were. I promise to love you in every way humanly possible, and even in ways that aren’t humanly possible. I promise to love, period. I’—” Harry’s voice cracks, and he glances up at Y/N as he clears his throat to continue. “‘I love you’.”
Y/N doesn’t realize just how emotional listening to Harry read Laure’s vows has made her until the first tear wells over the corner of her eye. She turns her head towards the window to wipe it away as quickly and inconspicuously as possible, but from the way Harry is looking at her when she turns back around, she knows that he caught what she was doing.
“That, um—” Now it’s Y/N’s turn to attempt to clear the emotion from her throat. “Wow.”
Harry carefully folds Laure’s vows back up, taking extra care to re-crease the paper exactly how it had been folded. “I didn’t know she…felt like that.” Harry says after a moment, his voice quiet. “Like she was…wrong.”
Y/N, unsure of what to say, just nods while reaching for Jo’s vows in front of her. Like Harry, she takes great care when unfolding the paper, smoothing it gently between her hands. “I’ll read Jo’s, then?”
Harry nods as he takes a sip of his water. “Sure.”
Y/N licks her lips once, wetting them with what little saliva she has in her mouth before beginning. “‘Laure’,” She starts, emotion already rising up to form a lump in her throat. “‘I don’t even know where to begin. I’ve tried to write down all the ways I love you a million different times, but I can never seem to find the right words. The problem is, I don’t think that there is a big enough word to describe what I feel for you. ‘Love’ is only four letters, and four letters is just not enough to contain everything I feel. ‘Adoration’ is nine letters, but even that doesn’t come close. I think the best way I can describe it is ‘permanent’.” Y/N pauses her reading to take a long gulp of water, the coolness soothing the dry and parched feeling in her mouth and throat. “‘Anyone who knows me knows that I have trouble committing. The idea of having something forever, of being in one place, normally terrifies me. But the idea of having you forever, and being in one place with you forever…that’s all I want. I want us to be permanent to each other. Even when we struggle, and we will struggle, I know that we won’t fall apart. Committing to you isn’t any trouble. It’s as easy as breathing. I’m sure of you, and I’m sure of us. I love you, permanently. I’ll love you when you’re sick and gross, and I’ll love you when you’re old with a bad hip.” A small laugh falls out of Y/N’s mouth before she continues. “I’ll love you when you haggle at flea markets for the best prices, and I’ll love you when you do something so stupid that it makes me want to tear my hair out. I love you permanently, and I want all of our family and friends to witness me saying that. I’ll never back out, or bail, or run away from you. You’re the one thing in my life that’s never felt hard. You’re my home base, and my north star, and you bring me back down to Earth whenever I need it. I love you permanently, Laure. I’ll never stop’.”
As she finishes reading, Y/N folds the paper back up, wiping her eyes on the back of her hand before grabbing the other note sitting on the table. She pushes them towards Harry, her misty eyes unable to meet his. “Here. Put these away again, somewhere safe.”
Harry takes the vows from her, slipping them back inside his inner jacket pocket for safekeeping. “It’s probably—” He clears his throat once more, and Y/N knows that the vows have caught him in his chest just as they’ve caught her. “It’s probably good that we read them now, so that we’re…prepared for the ceremony.”
“Yeah.” Y/N wraps her hands around her coffee mug, the warm ceramic surface heating her cold fingers. “You’re right. They really…love each other.”
Harry taps his fingers against the table top, a concentrative and thoughtful expression on his face. His eyebrows are knit together above his stormy green eyes, and his pink tongue swipes over his pinker lips once before he speaks. “You know, Laure is my closest friend. I don’t want her to get hurt.”
Immediately registering the tone of Harry’s voice, Y/N’s head snaps up, her own eyes becoming stormy as they meet his own. “Jo would never hurt Laure.” Y/N says defensively, the hairs on the back of her neck pricking up at even the suggestion of her friend hurting someone. “Didn’t you hear her vows? I’ve never heard her sound so sure of something in her entire life.”
Harry’s jaw flexes at the cadence of Y/N’s voice, and his is just as agitated when he responds. “I’m just saying, if anything ever happened—”
“And I’m just saying, it won’t.” The tension between them doubles as Y/N shoots Harry an icy glare. “Do you just look for the worst in people? Is that all you do?”
“You think I look for the worst in people? Really?” Harry barks out a harsh laugh, pressing one hand flat against the table as the other fixes his bandana. “Christ, if that’s what you think of me—”
“Why would I think anything else?” Y/N asks incredulously, tilting her head to the side as she regards him. “All you’ve shown me is—”
“Alright, I have the turkey club on whole wheat, and the burger here.” Gracie appears suddenly to Y/N’s right, her tray loaded with food. “Here you guys are…” She sets the plates down in front of Harry and Y/N, her gaze darting between them nervously as she reads the tension in the booth. “Is…there anything else I can get you two?”
“No.” Harry’s voice is hard. “We don’t need anything else.”
…
By the time Harry pulls the car into a motel just off the highway in Lexington, Nebraska, all Y/N wants is a moment alone. The strained atmosphere during that day’s drive had been unbearable, and between the anxiety from her confrontation with Harry and the sound of thunder beginning in the distance, Y/N just needs some space to herself to relax and calm down.
Of course, just because that’s what she needs, doesn’t mean that she’s going to get it. When Harry returns back to the car with a single key in his hand and a sour look on his face, Y/N knows for sure that the universe is against her.
This room, at least, she’s pleased to find, has two actual beds, which are pushed up against the wall perpendicular to the door with a small night table between them. However, that’s where her pleasure stops, as the click of Harry turning the lock behind her just reminds her that she’s trapped in here, with no chance to get away from Harry, the oncoming storm, or any one of her problems that have developed over the last four days. The reality of the situation hits her all at once, and it takes all of Y/N’s self control to toss her bag on the bed and walk brusquely to the bathroom, slamming the door and locking it behind her before she allows herself to show a sign of her emotions.
The rest of the evening passes in silence. She showers before changing into her sports bra and boxers, but the amount of exposed skin sends a vulnerable shiver down her spine. Y/N opts for pulling a sweatshirt over her body, and then sets herself the task of braiding her hair to distract herself. After that’s done, she busies herself with her skincare routine, taking up as much time as she can in the bathroom before she absolutely has to leave its private interior.
Harry, however, seems to want to see as little of Y/N as she wants to see of him, and pushes past her to enter the bathroom the moment that she steps out of it. His routine, it seems, is designed to take up just as much time as hers was, because by the time Harry exits the bathroom, the scent of his shampoo trailing behind him, Y/N is already tucked under the covers of her bed, although she’s far from asleep.
In the time it took for her to shower and get ready for bed, the storm had picked up, and the only thing audible in the room was the sound of rain pelting against the roof and window, the wind howling through the trees, and Y/N’s shallow, uneven breaths. She wraps the sheets tightly around herself, pulling them taut to her chin with clenched fists that tighten every time a clap of thunder echoes through the room. Although she’s turned to face the wall, away from Harry, she can hear his footsteps pause as he gets a glimpse of her shivering form beneath the blankets, and she does her best to will herself to appear asleep. Breathing in as deeply as her tight chest will allow her, Y/N attempts to even her breathing, forcing her shoulders rise and fall in a way that appears natural and normal. But all it takes is one clap of thunder for the controlled motion to go out the window.
“Y/N…” Harry’s voice is low, but despite its raspy cadence, it lacks the rough edge that it had earlier. The bed behind her squeaks, signalling that Harry’s taken a seat on the edge of it. “Are you—?”
“I-I’m fine.” Y/N says quickly, pulling the sheets tighter to her chin as another shiver rolls through her body. “Go to sleep.”
There’s another creak of Harry’s bed, and Y/N imagines him climbing under the starched linen covers, his damp curls flopping into his eyes as he lays back on the lumpy motel pillow. The image is almost enough to distract her until there’s another clap of thunder. The sound seems to shake the motel room, and Y/N can’t stop the small whimper that leaves her lips as her body jumps in response.
“When I was a little kid, my mum took my sister and I to the fair every year.”
Harry’s deep voice cuts over the rain, and Y/N shifts in her bed, turning over to face him. She keeps the covers pulled up to her chin, but readjusts herself so that she can keep her head on her pillow while looking Harry in the eye. “What?” She asks, confusion audible in her quiet tone.
Harry shifts himself as she does, continuing to move down until he’s completely horizontal, with one hand tucked under his pillow as he speaks. “My mum took my sister and I to the fair. It came to Holmes Chapel every spring, and there were always rides, and games to play, and so many things to see. It drew crowds from nearby villages every year, really big crowds, and my mum always held my hand tightly so I wouldn’t get lost.”
“I don’t understand, what—” Another clap of thunder shakes the room, making Y/N flinch halfway through her sentence.
“You’re okay.” Harry says immediately, his calm jade eyes focused on her as the reassurance slips from his mouth. He waits a moment, gauging Y/N’s body language and waiting for his examination to be positive before resuming his story. “So…my mum always told me not to wander off, but when I was six, I did. I saw some older kids playing games that I wanted to play, and Gemma was busy playing some sort of game with a ball—I can’t really remember what—and when my mum turned her back, I ran off.”
Y/N’s about to open her mouth to ask why he’s telling her the story when the answer clicks into place in her head. She thinks back to the conversation in the car the day before, how she told Harry that it helps when someone talks to her to distract her from the thunder. That’s what he’s doing, she realizes, as she forces herself to focus on his quiet and level voice. He’s trying to keep her calm, even after everything she said and did today.
“I don’t look like it now,” A small smile flits across Harry’s blushed lips. “But I was pretty scrawny back then. And all the people around me were so tall, my eyes were barely level with their hips. Everyone was rushing around, going in all directions, and I kept calling for my mum, but she couldn’t hear me. No one stopped to help me. I felt like I was…trapped. Like it was a huge forest of legs, running all around me, circling me, and I couldn’t get out. I was probably only gone for five minutes, but to a six year old, it felt like an eternity. And just something about it…I don’t know. It changed me. I still don’t like crowds because of that day.”
Y/N’s shoulders unclench the slightest bit as another gust of wind blows against the window. “That must have been scary.”
Harry’s own shoulders lift in a slight shrug as he shifts the sheet to cover him more. “It was. But I can’t change it. I just have to deal with the repercussions of it. That’s all a fear is, really. A side effect. We just have to deal with them as best we can.”
More thunder booms loudly outside, but Y/N manages to keep her flinch to a minimum, despite her hands curling into fists again under the covers. “Harry…” She whispers his name into the darkness between them, his outline barely visible save for his green eyes. “I’m—I’m sorry about today.”
Harry shakes his head, his damp hair rubbing against his pillow. “You don’t have to apologize.” He whispers back, his tone as gentle as she’s ever heard it. “I was an arse. I shouldn’t have pushed the topic.”
“I shouldn’t have been so uptight about it.” Rubbing her eyes with one fist, Y/N lets out a low sigh. “I felt so shitty all day because of our fight. I’ve never…none of our fights have ever made me feel like that.”
“Maybe it’s because…” Harry’s tentative voice trails off, his eyes flickering to the ground for a brief moment before staring back at Y/N nervously. “I don’t know. I thought we were getting along better. For a moment, at least.”
“We were.” Y/N’s teeth tug on her bottom lip, and she feels a sudden shyness overcome her at the admission. “I’m sorry I said that we…weren’t friends. I think…I don’t know. I’ve been stubborn for so long, but I can see now that you’re different than I thought you were.”
“Yeah. Me too. I was wrong, too.” Harry runs a hand through his damp curls, a soft laugh leaving his mouth. “How did we even end up like this? I barely remember what made us hate each other so much in the beginning.”
“Seriously?” Y/N raises an eyebrow, barely peaking out from beneath the sheets as another clap of thunder sounds. “You don’t remember?”
Harry mimics her expression. “Do you?”
“Yes! It was the very first night we met. We had that double date with Laure and Jo.” Shifting beneath her covers, Y/N moves herself into a better position on her side, so she can be more comfortable while still maintaining eye contact with Harry. “And you were rude, and made inappropriate jokes, and you left in the middle of the date to go chat up a sorority girl!”
“Wait a minute, no!” Harry protests the memory, half sitting up in his bed as he speaks. “That’s not what happened!”
“Yes, it is!” A small laugh falls off Y/N’s lips at his indignant reaction. “I remember it perfectly!”
“No, you remember it wrong!” Although a flush creeps up Harry’s neck, there’s an amused smile playing on his lips, a tiny hint of a dimple just barely appearing in his visible cheek. “I was making jokes to try and break the ice, which didn’t work on the Ice Queen, it seems—” Harry motions to Y/N teasingly. “And you’re the one who started talking to some bloke before I started talking to that girl!”
Another clap of thunder echoes through the room, but Y/N hardly notices as she thinks back to the night they met, and who Harry could possibly be referring to. “A bloke—? He was a classmate of mine! I had to talk to him!”
“Yeah, well, you didn’t have to enjoy it so much.” Harry grumbles, crossing his muscled arms over his sheets. “I had been so excited when Laure said she had an American girl for me, and then—”
“You were excited?” Y/N asks, her voice laced with surprise. “Really?”
The flush on Harry’s neck works its way to the apples of his cheeks. “Well, yeah.” He mumbles the words as his eyes drop from Y/N’s, slipping both hands beneath his head. “She said that you were funny, intelligent, witty, beautiful—”
“And then you met me, and realized that it was all a lie?” Y/N finishes for him, rolling her eyes in the darkness.
“No.” Harry gives a small shake of his head as his body shifts, the motel bed creaking under his weight. “No, she wasn’t wrong. You were all of those things. But I wasn’t, and it seemed like…I don’t know. Like you didn’t think I was good enough for you. I couldn’t keep your attention.”
The teasing smile slips from Y/N’s face as she registers Harry’s words. “You thought that I thought you weren’t…good enough?”
The nervousness is clear in Harry’s voice now, even over the pounding of rain against the window. “That’s what it seemed like, yeah.”
“I never—I didn’t think that.” Y/N says slowly, managing to relax her body beneath the sheets as she keeps her focus on the memory of meeting Harry. “I wasn’t exactly thrilled to be there, but that’s because Jo set the date up without telling me. I thought you were handsome, and I liked your accent, but then you started to act weird, and you started flirting with that girl, so I thought you were an ass.”
“You still think I’m an arse, princess, be honest.” The teasing tone replaces the nerves, and for once, Harry’s joke has the intended affect on Y/N. When she rolls her eyes again, it’s more playful, and the same tone is in her voice when she responds.
“I told you, don’t call me princess.” She replies, running her teeth over her lip gently. “So…I guess we both kind of fucked up that day.”
“Yeah.” Harry nods, a sheepish smile playing over his red lips. “I guess so.”
“Can we just restart?” Y/N’s voice is small when she asks the question, barely audible over the sounds of the storm raging outside. “Like, all the way from the beginning. No more grudges, no more yelling. Even if it’s just for this trip, for Jo and Laure—”
“It doesn’t have to be just for this trip.” Harry cuts in, his eyes catching Y/N’s again. “We’re going to have to be around each other for a long time. It’ll be a lot easer if we get along.”
Y/N nods in agreement, tugging down her covers to extend one arm towards Harry. She makes a fist, holding out just her pinkie finger to him with half a grin on her face. “Truce?”
The space between their beds is small, and Harry’s long arm easily makes it across the no man’s land to meet Y/N’s pinkie with his own. He loops it together with a smile that matches hers, tired and content and just at the edge of a humble new beginning. Harry’s response is almost inaudible as thunder booms loudly outside the room, but Y/N can still pick out the cadence of his accent under the noise.
“Truce.”
(pt II)
#feedback is appreciated!!#harry styles x reader#harry styles x you#harry styles x y/n#harry styles fanfiction#harry styles fic#harry styles imagine#harry styles blurb#harry styles preference#one direction fanfiction#one direction fic#one direction imagine#harry styles smut#harry styles fluff#harry styles angst#enemies to lovers#road trip au#fine line#fine line album#dreamwithharry#42 hours#writing
7K notes
·
View notes
Note
1 - Soulmate AU - Soulamtes share dreams to learn more about each other and to teach each other their local traditions if necessary. Obi-Wan learns the hardship his mate faces in slavery, their secret language, and how to help free slaves. Anakin gets taught about the Jedi, reading, writing, and how amazing his mate is.
ahhhh ok i really don't want to share this under this prompt because i wrote the ask down wrong in my notes so the prompt i wrote follows my poor notes that just say - 'soulmate sharing/learn about them before they meet' but this is amazing prompt wise and it would clear up a ton of misconceptions in the prequels obviously if they both got dreams of the other's early lives but this is.... not that but i hope you enjoy anyway <3 <3
1. Soulmates (and daemons) (2.0 k)
Obi-Wan doesn’t have a soulmate for sixteen years.
It’s just him and the animal representation of his own soul that had traveled to the Temple with him as a babe, a Vulptex kit. She’s named herself now and grown larger and stronger through the years, her coat growing out to perfect crystalline ends. From a distance, they look like razor-sharp spikes of ice. Or so other people have said.
Obi-Wan knows that’s not true. He knows that his soul isn’t cold or untouchable or unreachable. But he’s had no luck telling anyone else that, not when Avarie snaps at everyone who tries to touch her in a manner that’s quite un-Jedi like. She’s prickly and quick to bristle. He’s emotional and angry, even before he’s ten years old.
Look, it’s not easy living around people who all know they have soulmates, either because they’ve met them or because they’ve woken up to find that their own animal has disappeared only to be replaced with their mate’s soul representation.
Most of the time, that sort of switch happens when a person’s still a youngling. A very young youngling. Sometimes babies are taken to the Temple with their soulmate’s animal tucked between tiny arms. Those, in Obi-Wan’s opinion, are the luckiest ones. They never have to wonder if they even have a soulmate at all.
They just grow up knowing that they’ll be loved one day.
Obi-Wan grows up thinking maybe it’s just going to be him and his vulptex until the day he dies. It makes him angry at the injustice of it all.
He knows his own emotions probably keep him from a Padawanship, but he can’t help but think that Avarie’s own appearance and attitude certainly don’t help. They’re at odds with one another for two years, bound together but each ignoring the other. Obi-Wan’s never heard of this before, of fighting with your own soul’s animal.
But, he thinks, most people don’t spend as long with theirs as he has with Avarie.
Perhaps she is everything unlikable about himself, made apparent to everyone else. No one, master or soulmate, would ever want him. Not when everything about his soul screams keep your distance.
Master Jinn taking him as his Padawan is a surprise then, one that soothes over some of Obi-Wan’s soul-deep aches. The night he gets his padawan braid is the first night in years that Avarie curls up against him to sleep.
When he is sixteen and a few standard months old, he wakes up alone in his bed, Avarie nowhere in sight.
Well. Not alone, actually.
A ball of fur that he had originally thought to be a wrinkle in his bedspread whines pitifully and moves to follow him when he sits up.
He stares dumbly down at the strange little muzzle and unopen eyes. Half of its face is a pure white, and the other half a solid black, as if someone has taken it and held it against a fire until its fur was stained with smoke.
“Uh,” he says to his soulmate’s animal. The creature, some sort of canid, perks up at his voice and snuffles closer to him eagerly. “Yes, hello,” Obi-Wan grins, petting its tiny head with the tip of his thumb. It tries to prolong the touch by lifting its muzzle up and whining.
It’s so small.
His soulmate must be...must be just as young.
Obi-Wan is sixteen and a few months and his soulmate has just been born, most likely. But.
But he has a soulmate.
-----
Odyna grows fast, much faster than Obi-Wan had thought possible. It feels like he blinks once on the morning he wakes to see her, and then suddenly she’s at his knees. Her paws and ears are huge still, and Obi-Wan knows she’ll grow much, much bigger.
His master in particular is very interested in trying to figure out what species his soulmate’s animal is.
“She feels incredibly strong in the Force,” Qui-Gon says on more than one occasion. “And her markings--”
Odyna growls from where she’s laying splayed out in Obi-Wan’s lap as he brushes over her furry back. She instantly preens when he taps her gently on the nose.
Some days he thinks she’s the exact opposite of Avarie in every way possible, and has to wonder how his soulmate--who would be six now--is faring with Avarie. He hopes she’s at least letting them pet her.
Odyna relishes Obi-Wan’s attention always, though she scorns anyone else’s hands or affections in a way that reminds him of his own Vulptex.
The Jedi Council was unimpressed with Avarie’s aversion to touch and seems even more skeptical at Odyna’s. “A dangerous, possessive attachment, it will be,” Yoda has told Qui-Gon and Obi-Wan more than once.
Soulmate relationships in the Order are common and practically encouraged, seen as the will of the Force. But even then, possessive attachment is heavily forbidden. The Force animals of the Jedi will often allow other Jedi to touch them and greet them. It’s unbecoming of a Jedi’s soul, to close itself off from the touch of others.
And yet a part of Obi-Wan can’t stop himself from feeling smug about how overt Odyna’s claim over him is. She’s clingy, incredibly needy, and overprotective at turns.
A Jedi’s mission to Lothal brings back a trade deal and a name for Obi-Wan’s soulmate’s Force animal. “It looks just like a Loth-wolf,” she tells him. “But the ones on Lothal I saw were huge. Taller than a Wookie.”
Obi-Wan groans at this. His master is already so much taller than him. Now Odyna too? If his soulmate grows to tower over him as well, he’s going to have some choice words for the Force upon his death.
“You wouldn’t do that to me, would you?” He asks Odyna that night as she flops down onto his bed in her customary position of splayed everywhere. “My room is only so big.”
She grins at him and licks his face.
“Force, that’s so uncivilized,” Obi-Wan grouses, getting up out of bed again to go wash his face.
----
Surprisingly, Tatooine’s heat is not the first thing Obi-Wan notices about the planet. No, what he notices first and foremost is the way that Odyna, until this point relatively satisfied to lay curled around his chair (at nine, she’s big enough to come up to his shoulders when standing), seems to lose her damned mind as soon as the door is open and the hot air permeates the ship.
He was just going to look at the damage, but his soulmate’s Force animal seems to have other plans. Odyna bounds out onto the sand and nudges Obi-Wan forward, hard enough that he loses his balance.
She nudges him again, even as he tries to bat her away. “Odyna, stop it,” he demands, scrambling to his feet.
“Are they...alright?” One of Queen Amidala’s handmaidens asks.
Qui-Gon at least tries to hide his amusement, but Obi-Wan shoots him a dirty look anyway because he can hear the smile in his master’s voice when he says, “Oh yes. This is quite normal.”
It is not normal, thanks.
Odyna howls in agreement.
When Qui-Gon tells them that they’ll have to go into the nearest town to barter or buy the parts needed to fix the ship, Obi-Wan volunteers first. Maybe if he can let Odyna stretch her legs, she’ll calm down.
Instead, the closer they get to Mos Espa proper, the more antsy she becomes until, quite suddenly, she bolts through the streets. Obi-Wan has little choice but to take off after her. It’s almost impossible, of course, to lose a Loth-wolf when they’re that huge, but there’s a sort of strange tight pressure in his chest at having her out of his sight.
He leaves his master and the handmaiden behind without a second thought, but at least he doesn’t have to run far.
Outside a shop that looks as rundown as the other ones, Odyna has stopped and sat down, her tail wagging furiously behind her.
Obi-Wan has a fair few things in mind to yell at her, but all of that gets knocked out of his head when he sees the crystalline figure of a very familiar vulptex standing in the shadow of the loth-wolf.
His breath catches in his throat and he almost loses his balance again when Avarie turns to look at him with those intelligent black eyes, head cocked.
If she’s--if she’s here, then that means--that means--
He stumbles forward until he can kneel in front of his Force animal, hand outstretched.
Suddenly there’s commotion inside the shop and a little boy tears outside holding some sort of rusted pipe over his shoulder threateningly. “Don’t touch her!” the boy yells, brandishing the pipe. “She doesn’t like it, get gone or I’ll make you get gone!”
Obi-Wan blinks. His very first interaction with his soulmate after waiting twenty-five years, and the boy is threatening him.
“You’re mine,” he says dumbly, brain trying to process these impossible events.
It is, of course, the wrong thing to say. If anything, the boy puffs himself up even more. “I’m no one’s!” He yells indignantly. “I’m a person. My name is Anakin Skywalker!”
Obi-Wan holds up his hands in apology. “Ah, I’m sorry, I didn’t mean--I meant that she’s mine. Avarie. She’s my soul.”
Anakin lowers his pipe with narrowed eyes. “How’d you know her name?” he asks suspiciously.
Obi-Wan fights the urge to roll his eyes. He’d never considered that he’d have to win over the trust of his soulmate. “She’s my soul,” he says again slowly, before gesturing to the black and white loth-wolf behind them, who has laid down in the dust, tongue hanging out in response to the heat. “As she is yours.”
“You’re my...soulmate?” Anakin drops the pipe as he looks over Obi-Wan in frank disbelief. “But you’re so….”
Obi-Wan raises a wry eyebrow and grins. He braces himself to hear old, or maybe even male.
But instead his soulmate shocks him again by saying, “....pretty! Are you sure you’re not an angel instead?”
Which, of course, corresponds to his master’s arrival. The maiden with him at least has the decency to cover her smile with her hand. Meanwhile, his master’s smirk is probably going to be burned into his memory forever.
“Yes, Anakin,” Obi-Wan responds. “I promise, I’m your soulmate.”
“Mine,” Anakin says in a wondrous tone. And then, a grin steals across his face and he grabs Obi-Wan's hand. “My soulmate.”
Obi-Wan hopes this isn’t the beginning of that dangerous possessiveness Yoda has spent years lecturing him about.
-----
“I’m going with him,” Anakin argues, stomping his foot in the Council chambers. Obi-Wan hides his face in his hand. “He’s my master.”
“Anakin, we’ve been over this. You’re much too young for this mission,” Obi-Wan explains gently, as if they don’t have a dozen interested eyes on them.
“I’m twelve!” Anakin will not be deterred. “That’s plenty old!”
“It’s too dangerous,” he tries instead.
“Then you shouldn’t go!”
Obi-Wan wonders if he should try arguing that he’s a twenty-eight year old Jedi Knight, who may go where he pleases. He doesn’t think that’ll go over well with his padawan.
Anakin, he says through their training bond. Do not do this in front of the Council.
Anakin turns to stare mulishly up at him. I want you to be safe.
I will have Odyna with me, Obi-Wan points out, tilting his head in reference to the loth-wolf spread out on the Council Chamber’s floor. And you will have Avarie with you. You will know I am safe. And I will know she is making you sleep and eat and bathe.
Anakin seems to consider this and then crosses his arms, but eventually nods. I don’t like it when she bites me until I go to bed, he grumbles, kicking his feet and glaring over at Avarie, who is dozing between Odyna’s paws.
Obi-Wan fights the urge to chuckle out loud. In truth, he’s a bit jealous that Avarie has figured out a way to get obedience from their soulmate. Half the time, Obi-Wan is still floundering to get simple acknowledgement of a command.
-----
Many years later, of course, when Anakin is a knight and Obi-Wan a master, he figures out the thing that never fails to get Anakin soft and pliant and relaxed.
It’s kisses.
More specifically, kisses from his soulmate while they’re lying in bed together, sheets tangled around their feet and both of their Force animals in the other room, keeping watch at the door.
#asks#prompt fill#soulmates#obikin#this entire fic took hold because i couldn't stop thinking of a physical representation of anakin's soul just#draped behind obi-wan's chair during council meetings#so hell yeah after he gets a seat on the council#odyna sits behind him and growls loudly when she feels his displeasure#its very intimidating actually mission successes are going through the roof#meanwhile anakin has avarie in his lap shes either dozing off#or she's grooming her paws#which always makes anakin laugh#because 'look master she's as picky about her appearance as you are'#soulmate au
172 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
nee-ja
deep fried dumbass
specters0rd
Theo's Chihuahua
allthatsilove
welcome, take a sit
viazkia
Paula Loves it All
mangatrnet
Manga Oku