#except go 2 and white music i cannot appreciate them
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Okay well as you may know from looking at my blog for five seconds, I saw the matinee for Starkid Innit. During the interval and after the show I wrote down some notes. I tried to get them in chronological order but my memory is dogshit and I definitely missed some stuff, I hope you appreciate it though.
Outside:
. EVERYONE SUNG GRANGER DANGER
. IT WAS SO GOOD (except for the high note lmao)
. EVERYONE SUNG DAYS OF SUMMER
. EVERYONE A SMALL GROUP OF PEOPLE SUNG GOIN' BACK TO HOGWARTS
Act 1:
. The Nightmare Time sting punched me in the face
. The shout-out to the confused parents
. BRIAN + MEREDITH IN TGWDLM IS EVERYTHING TO ME
. High School Is Killing Me, Literal Monster and Nerdy Prudes Must Die all got mashed together!
. Corey!Richie is my Roman Empire
. Jaime in NPMD….
. Jaime had a different line to PJ’s original in Literal Monster. I couldn't hear half of it but it was different
. JEFF!MAX
. THE AUDIENCE SINGING RICHIE'S PART!!!!!! I'M NOT A LOSERRRRRRR
. TOGETHER!!!!!
. OUR DOORS ARE OPEN
. Jaime singing Sami/Harry ABOUT HER DOG (Nori)
. The audience whipping out the phone cameras
. CLARK SINGING I WAS GAVE ME SUCH INTENSE CHILLS
. Joey finally giving the white, male side characters attention
. Joey changing “I know I'm not a star” to “I know I'm not Clark”
. He pointed the mic at the audience for the “DEFINITELY NOT!”
. Joey mistimed his jump 😔😔
. Genuinely his best performance of Sidekick yet
. Joey making fun of Brian for not getting a big solo
. Brian kept pretending to beat him up, it was brilliant
. Not Over Yet is definitely Brian's song, shut up
. Brian accidentally singing the same verse twice (How does he always mess this song up?!?!?)
. My mum took a photo during the “EVIL PLAAAAANSSSS” bit and it was right when Brian was choking Joey
. “So look alive and don't forget”
“FORGET WHAT?”
. FEAST OR FAMINE
. Rogues Are We still goes so hard
. Rogues Medley without Kick It Up A Notch is weird, but Kick It Up A Notch without Dylan would definitely be weirder
Intermission:
. Ice cream :D
Act 2:
. Starting with We Got Work To Do is so iconic
. THERE'S BEEN A CHANGE IN THE CLIMATE, SOMETHING'S IN THE AIR, WE FEEL THE HEAT, NO NEED TO DEFINE IT, WE DON'T REALLY CARE
. MEREDITH REQUESTED BACK ON TOP!!!!!!!! AND IT WAS SO GOOOOD!!!!!!!
. Joey shouted “Draco, get on the floor!” at Lauren
. ALL THE UNDERRATED SONGS
. I love how it was hyped up like it was going to be Boy Toy, and then just straight up wasn't lmaooo
. Brian finally got the slow, sexy Hideous Creatures (Take that, Nick Lang!)
. Okay I'm trying to remember the order of the underrated songs they did
. Hideous Creatures (Lauren)
. Pays To Be an Animal (Corey) (He didn't sit in the spotlight and someone yelled “TO THE LEFT, COREY”)
. Get In My Mouth (Jeff) (He fully sprawled out on the stage it was hilarious)
. Land of the Dicks (Jaime)
. Hermione Can't Draw (Meredith) (She sung it so well I briefly didn't recognise the song)
. THEY MANAGED TO WORK IN LUPIN / BRIAN CAN'T SING YESSSS
. I genuinely cannot remember what Brian sung
. Gotta Find His Dick (Joey, and eventually everyone)
. The entire “Oh you wanna know where I got my shirt?” bit
. Brian, Jaime and Joey got it from Primark, Meredith got it from “Primed-mrak”, Lauren’s was a family heirloom, Corey got it from Gucci and Jeff got it from America, from Pri-mart (He made the guy on the drums do a baddum tsh)
. COREY SINGING SHOW STOPPIN' NUMBER. OH MY GOD. (The entire crowd joined in, also, Jeff and Jaime as Steve and Stu)
. Everyone cheering so loud when Joey and Lauren came on stage, and them claiming we had no idea what they were going to sing, and it was actually a completely new song (it was Granger Danger obviously)
. And them continuing to claim it was new throughout the song
. As I expected, I almost cried during Not Alone. Also apparently Darren thought it was going to be a big hit??? And just begrudgingly let them use it for A Very Potter Musical
. Super Friends!
. So sad Jeff’s mic was so quiet for “I WANNA BE A MODERN DANCER”
. THEY SUNG WANNABE BY THE SPICE GIRLS
. The fakeout of everyone leaving stage, then the band coming back on and playing the start of Goin' Back To Hogwarts
. “Darren's not here”
“I'LL DO IT”
. THE AUDIENCE DID THE FIRST PART OF GOIN' BACK TO HOGWARTS ALL BY OURSELVES
. JEFF DID DYLAN'S PART (but he didn't do “All of you to [city name] :( )
. Jeff pointed at various parts of the audience for “Welcome hotties, nerds and tools!” and then whispered “I'm so sorry” immediately after
. Singing (/ shouting) Goin' Back To Hogwarts along with hundreds of other Starkid fans was so exhilarating, I loved it and I almost cried (also I'm gonna be so hoarse tomorrow)
#starkid#starkid innit#it's starkid innit?#team starkid#starkid productions#joey richter#lauren lopez#jaime lyn beatty#brian holden#clark baxtresser#corey dorris#meredith stepien#jeff blim
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del 💓 you said “rhett wants to jump straight to putting up the christmas tree and related decor, and bobby has to fight for his life to keep it at bay” and it got me wondering if this is how things go in the floytt household? 😂 do robby and reader kind of bend to rhett’s will and desires a lot of the time? does he pout for things and butter them up with kisses and hugs and soft-drawled pleas, or has he just taken to independent freedom and happiness so hard that he just starts doing things and neither reader nor robby have the heart to stop him—except where winter holiday decorations are concerned?
omg and not to encourage rhett 😂 but what does the floytt family christmas tree look like?
first of all, real or fake? i have a feeling that someone is allergic and thankfully knows it so decorating and subsequent celebrating goes off without a hitch...
is it rhett-sized or much shorter? the thought of any of them being taller than their tree is a little hilarious to me...
is it pine green or white / vintage colorful? can christmas-loving rhett appreciate wacking aesthetics from the 60s or is he a red and green traditionalist?
colorful lights or white lights? random collection of ornaments or matching cohesive store bought? i know what i think, but i wanna hear what you think 😌
are they tinsel garland people? or popcorn string people?
do they make it a whole affair, putting it up and decorating? are they playing music while they eat seasonal snacks and sweets from the grocery store? omg do they bake cookies? i think christmas is the only time of year that rhett will eat non-fruit sweets and desserts, but robby says it hardly counts because everything still has a tendency to be fruity or vanilla, not to mention most of it is candy cane flavored!
rhett ends up eating all those (i don’t know if you know what i’m talking about because they might be regional or generational [omg] but i hope you do) vanilla snowmen stick-less ice cream bars on him in retaliation *cue tackling in 3, 2, 1*
and please don’t stress too hard about the void au 🥺☁️💕💐
aaaa! omg hello 💐💕
It...it is...
A majority of the time, Robby is just fighting for his life in this household. He has his set dates for when every holiday celebration should begin, how early is too early, and what the best day is to take down the decor...and Rhett is simply fueled by the sheer power of vibes. It drives Bob mad. There's no order! If Rhett could have his way, Halloween decor would be out in August, Christmas would be up November 1st, and it would stay up past Valentine's Day.
But his excitement is so damn contagious. How is anyone supposed to say no when Rhett's got a Santa hat held between his teeth as he digs through a box in search of their matching candy cane keychains? Bob tries for all of half a second, but then Rhett's looking up at him with those big, confused puppy eyes, and the effort flies out the window.
Usually, it ends in a compromise of baking Christmas cookies the day after Halloween and getting out the small things. But the tree stays put away until the day after Thanksgiving. It is not coming out any earlier than that. But there was that one year when he was away on deployment, and Rhett convinced the Reader to get it out in early November.
Bob's still (jokingly) annoyed about that, by the way.
I could have sworn that somewhere around here, I mentioned Bob having a pine allergy...but I cannot find it to save my life. A part of me likes to think that Rhett grew up having a real tree every year, and now he's just perpetually confused about the whole fake tree thing. Why does it feel like that?
dfkjgh the concept of using Rhett as a unit of measurement is so funny to me 😭 there are two trees. The first one came about the first year in the house. With the chaos of getting settled in and work getting in the way, Christmas took a weird place on the back burner, where it was high on the list of things to do but kept getting pushed off. Rhett's knee was hurting him, Bob and Reader went off and got sick twice, and all of a sudden, it was December 3rd and they had no damn tree. So Bob, mid-sickness, bought one online.
You can imagine his and Reader's surprise when they came home to find Rhett in the living room, staring down at the frailest tree they'd ever seen. Fully set up, fluffed, and leaning over because the tree topper was too damn big. It didn't even have lights!
The joys of no-return policies and not reading the fine print.
Twas a true Charlie Brown Christmas. That poor tree had to sit in the corner because it would just...fall over. Reader looked at it funny one afternoon, and the damn thing dropped dead.
But the second tree is a completely different story. The high ceilings in the living room allow them to get away with virtually any sized tree, and one way or another, they wound up with a ten-foot-tall tree (Which is the only thing stopping Rhett from getting it out by himself). They had their choice between a regular green and a flocked tree; the Reader was the deciding factor on which they got. It's got the fancy color-changing mode because nobody could decide on colorful or light.
Bob usually sets it on white, and then Rhett passes by and sets it to the blinking rainbow setting. It's a quiet war every year.
The ornaments start out cohesive, but the next year, the Reader finds their decor that went missing during the move, and things slowly start to randomize. Some fall and break. The trio finds adorable new sets of ornaments that weren't out the year prior, and the aesthetic falls into adorable disarray.
The only consistent decor is the topper. An adorable animated biplane that Nat gifted them. Always happily spinning at the top of the tree and will only ever be replaced if they inexplicably discover a version with an F/A-18...
I don't know if this counts as a Christmas tree, but there's a two-foot-tall rainbow tree in the kitchen that Rhett inexplicably came home with one day. A gift from a well-meaning boss who doesn't quite get the whole "just because I'm married to two people doesn't mean I'll only accept Pride-themed gifts" thing. It serves as home to all the weird ornaments that get collected over the year.
A chicken wing ornament simply does not belong on the main tree...
With three people, the tree gets busy a little...fast...so the tinsel garland makes an adorable appearance on the staircase banister. Usually matching the wreath on the front door.
It's an entire weekend venture! Saturdays are reserved for the tree-related fussings (getting a ten-foot tree out of the attic is a hell of a venture), and Sundays are for the general decor. Wreaths, knick-knacks, stockings over the fireplace, various figurines, and the stuff in the front yard. The three deer are the first to go out there, because, one way or another, each member of the household is represented by one of the deer. One might or might not have an old pair of glasses hot-glued to its face...
Festive music is a must! Rhett's still got some CDs that he used to play in his truck, and once those have been played out, it switches to whatever playlist someone has made. Sometimes, they'll take a break and head to the grocery store for some seasonal snacks out of the bakery section, but a lot of the time, someone has already brought some home. There's an adorable bakery on the route home, and it's so hard to not stop at.
Baking cookies, omg. Bobby's momma gifted them a 12 Days of Christmas Cookies recipe book, and every year they go through it. They try to bake one set every few days, but every once in a while, something happens, and like four types get baked in a day. Rhett's partial to Kołaczki (Polish filled cookies), and Cowboy Cookies. Who could have guessed. Bob is a simple man who would commit a crime for Danish Butter Cookies. Please don't ask how many blue tins he owns. He's lost count.
But nothing can come between these two and their mints. Buttermints, candy canes, those soft peppermint puffs that are sold by more brands than I can count but always seem to taste the same. They're insufferably minty until they run out of mints after the New Year. If it's mint, they're eating it.
I swear I have seen these vanilla snowman bars somewhere! I know I've never had them, but they looked so damn familiar when I looked them up. They absolutely get rationed out because otherwise, Rhett will eat them all in the span of two days.
But then there was also that year when Bob brought home a couple boxes of them, and Rhett moved them out to the garage freezer because they kept falling every time he opened the door. Except, he didn't tell Bob, so that coming Friday, Bob came home with more.
Rinse and repeat until he cracks and asks how Rhett and Reader have eaten so damn many so fast, and Rhett realizes what happened. That may have been the longest wrestling match they've ever had.
In better news, they had enough snowmen to last till Spring.
#rhett abbott#robert bob floyd#bob floyd#bob floyd x reader x rhett abbott#💐#delgato's asks#milesmillergf#tw food#hawthorn au
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what are ur top 5 xtc albums :)
Hii thanks so much for the ask!! Here we go…
1. Black Sea (it’s just so good start to finish and reminds me of someone I really loved)
2. The Big Express (inexplicably attracted to its dark swindonian appeal)
3. English Settlement (the album that made me fall in love with XTC. great colin songs what can i say)
4. Nonsuch (just so beautiful)
5. Skylarking (IT IS SO GOOD omg sorry but I have such emotional attachment to the others that it has to be #5)
#had to add explanations because i care too much lol#anyway it's so hard to exclude the masterpieces that are the other albums.#except go 2 and white music i cannot appreciate them#xtc#asks
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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
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summer rain: chapter 3
Your days in the Training Corp aren’t too out of the ordinary. You make friends, you train hard, and you eat dinner every day.
Oh, and you’re also hellbent on getting revenge against Humanity’s Strongest Soldier.
Chapter 2, Chapter 4
You don’t keep your promise to yourself. Very unwillingly, you let Lieutenant Levi catch out after hours again, a few months later, in very different circumstances.
The day goes pretty well before the incident, actually. Nothing extraordinary or painful happens, and you even get Grumman to tell you in that gruff voice of his that you have good form. A good day deserves a good night, a nice farewell. It’s the end of the week, and since tomorrow is everyone’s day off anyways, you decide you want to have a little fun.
The usual suspects want no part in it. Millie doesn’t support sneaking out of the base, Ricky is too busy studying, and Stephen cannot stay awake past dinnertime and is always out like a light. Traitors, the lot of them. There’s absolutely no fun in sneaking out alone, so you start asking around. Surely there must be someone who feels as cooped up as you do.
And that’s how you find yourself in a bar with Traute and Nifa.
It’s an odd combination, you know that much. Nifa is bubbly, bright, and speaks very loudly when she gets drunk. Traute, on the other hand, has a glare that turns out to be helpful to ward off any amorous intruders, but when directed at you, it can be scary. She doesn’t drink at all, giving you a hard stare when you ask her if she wants anything. You only have a single glass yourself before getting up to do what you really came here for - dance.
You start off slow, the alcohol leaving your brain just a bit fuzzy after not drinking for such a long time. The musicians playing on the stage at the side sweeten everyone’s ears with a gradual but energetic melody. You grab a random man’s arm, swinging into step with him. He complies with a hearty chuckle, and now you have a dance partner. In turn, he grabs his friend, who grabs theirs.
Claps and cheers fill the air. You feel the heavy steps under you as your arms flail and you spin, right in the center of it all and enjoying every last second of it. Your hair bounces around you, falling into your face. Someone grabs your hand and tugs you into a waltz. Eventually, dancing turns to jumping, but you don’t care, you live for every second of this. The dancing, the music, the crowd, the sinful act of sneaking out and getting so handsy with everyone. The music is only egging you on.
Your hands are in the air, twirling for all you’re worth. The crowd is cheering you on, the melody is reaching its peak, the room is spinning, and you raise a leg up to finish with a grand pirouette and a wide grin.
The song finishes and you stop to a resounding wave of applause, your arms still thrown in the air.
Right in front of you is Lieutenant Levi, and he does not share the crowd’s enthusiasm.
You stay exactly in the position you are, hands frozen as though he’s caught you. Maybe it’s the wine, or maybe it’s the absurdity of the situation, or maybe it’s that he somehow went to the same seedy bar you did and caught you dancing and is now listening to your admirers enthusiastically shouting for an encore as the next song starts playing. Whatever the reason is, you start laughing.
He looks funny, with his bored, fed up expression. Why does he always look like that?
Sighing at your disorderly conduct, he beckons you forward with one finger. Feeling particularly pleasant, you follow him out of the crowd, pausing only to bow with a flourish to anyone who looks at you. Apparently, Lieutenant Levi does not appreciate your desire to please the crowd, because he grabs your arm and shoves you out of the bar. You giggle, hands flying up to cover your mouth.
“Who did you come here with?” he asks, and you waggle a finger.
“I’m not telling.”
“It’s your little quartet, isn’t it?”
“I’m not telling,” you repeat, taking a few steps back from him. You have no desire to get enthralled in him once again. The last time replays in your mind enough times as it is.
The lieutenant gives you a hard look. You try your best to match it, but you end up breaking out into giggles again, the giddy feeling too good to leave you so soon. He sighs.
“You’re drunk.”
“Ooh, so clever.” You smirk, completely unbothered. He doesn’t look too mad, and you’re not worried about Traute or Nifa either. They’ll find their way back. And now you have an escort! It’s truly a special night. “I’m not, actually. I’m no lightweight. I just feel good.”
“That won’t last long,” he promises, “you just ruined my plans. Instead of having a drink, I get to babysit you. So rest assured I’m going to make your life hell, (L/N).”
Your voice unwittingly comes out in a whine. “But you already do that.”
He sighs that sigh again, placing a hand on the top of your head to spin you around and push you in the direction of the base. You laugh loudly, finding his exasperation hilarious until he gives your temple a painful flick.
“Ow!”
“Fucking brat.”
“Ooh, you’re infuriating.” The good feeling is still there, but it’s a little more bitter. He just has that natural effect on your emotions. “You make me so mad.”
“Likewise,” he responds dryly.
The lack of engagement in his voice only serves to make you more sour. For a few minutes, you remain quiet, the two of you walking side by side. More than once, his knuckles brush against yours, but you pay no attention to the contact. You’re simmering in quiet annoyance, months of being thrown around, embarrassed and disrespected all coming to a head now. The liquid courage you consumed earlier doesn’t help either.
“Was it ugly?” aren’t exactly the words you wanted to say, but they’re the ones that come out.
“Hm?”
You look at him, an uncharacteristically vulnerable look displayed on your features. “My smile. Was it so ugly that you just couldn’t stand it?”
“What are you talking about?” He’s raising a brow at you, the breeze playing with his collar a bit. You realize this is the first time you’ve seen him out of uniform, in only a simple white buttoned shirt. He looks nice.
“The day we met. The first day of training. That day.” You wave a hand to make him understand. “You didn’t like my smile, so you...did what you did. And then you did it again later. That was mean.” There’s a pout on your face now, as you remember all his past transgressions. “It must have been an ugly smile if it made you act like this.”
“What are you trying to say?” Levi looks irritated. “Spit it out, (L/N).”
So you do.
“Why do you hate me so much?”
He looks at you, really looks at you, and yet he doesn’t halt. He merely scans your questioning face, your downtrodden expression and the downward direction of your lips. You’re not trying to be difficult this time, you’re really not. You just think that you have a right to know just what you did to make him constantly come after you. Maybe once you hear it, your ridiculous attraction to him will stop.
“What makes you think I hate you?” he replies, genuinely, honestly, and your heart clenches. Before you can reply, he goes on, “I wouldn’t be training you if I hated you. Wouldn’t put up with your annoying ass presence all the time.”
Not sure what to do with such a backhanded compliment, you press on. “So what, you like me? I’d hate to see how you treat your enemies.”
“You would hate to see it,” Levi hums in agreement, and leaves it at that. There’s no confirmation as to whether or not he likes you, which you take to mean he merely tolerates you enough. That does nothing for your feelings. Oh Maria, you can’t actually believe you’re entertaining the idea of having feelings for him in the first place. There’s an attraction there, sure, in a if-he-asked-you-to-sleep-with-him-you-would-probably-say-yes kind of way. You can appreciate his features, you can admit that he’s ridiculously attractive (for a midget). But it doesn’t go deeper than that, and you know now that it doesn’t go deeper for him either. You’re a thorn in his side, who he begrudgingly agrees to train out of some sense of duty. That’s fine. Except…
Except your fascination with his eyes doesn’t just stem from you good you think they’d look above you. It’s been the same thing since day one - there’s just something about him you crave. His closeness, his attention. He’s interested you since the beginning, and you just don’t know why. It looks like you won’t ever find out.
“Hey.” Levi flicks your forehead again, ignoring the glare you throw his way. “You’re thinking too loudly. Cut it out.”
You cut it out.
Not even a whole minute later, he asks, “What were you thinking about?”
He just can’t make up his mind, can he? What an adorable little sadist.
For maybe the first time since you arrived here, you think carefully about your words before speaking. “I was thinking about something that happened once back home.” When he doesn’t say anything, only raises a brow, you continue, “Millie and I went out this one time, with this guy I liked but was too shy to tell. It was pretty late, and I was really tired, so we got separated somehow. I ended up in front of this large mansion. Large, large. Like, I grew up there as one of the richest girls on the block and I still thought it was huge -”
“Get to the point,” Levi grumbles, and you smirk at his impatience. You really do think he should hear this one.
“I knocked on the door, and these two women opened it. I told them what happened, and they agreed to let me stay the night. So I ate dinner with them and then -”
The lieutenant just isn’t content with letting you tell your story without interrupting. “You actually went in? That’s so fucking stupid. Not to mention dangerous. Why didn’t you just try to go home?”
“I’m scared of walking alone at night.” You wave your hand dismissively and hurry on before he can chide you further about how unsafe it is to trust strangers. “So anyway, I went to sleep in one of their spare rooms, but in the middle of the night...I heard something. A scratching sound. It freaked me out.”
He scoffs. “I would guess you got murdered after that, but since you’re here, I guess we weren’t so lucky.”
You look at him crossly. “Ha-ha. No, I made it through the night. I asked them about it the next morning -”
“And then they killed you.”
“No. They told me they’d love to tell me, but they couldn’t, because I wasn’t part of their secret society that they had built the mansion for. So I left, but a month later, I ended up getting lost there again.”
“You’re fucking useless.”
“Shut up.” You’re not sure where you get the gall to tell him that. “I stayed the night again, I heard the scratching again, and I asked again. But they said the same thing. So I said, screw it, I really want to know, I’ll join the secret society. They tell me that first I need to tell them how many houses there are in Stohess. It doesn’t have to be exact, but it has to be close.”
Levi’s brows are furrowed in concentration. He shakes his head with a frown, clearly running it over in his head. “I can’t see how you could figure something like that out. It would take you ages to walk through every single street and count all of them. Why would they need to know that anyways?”
You shrug. “Haven’t the faintest clue. But remember I said there was that guy I liked? His father is actually a mathematician, and the man’s a chip off the old block. So I go to him, and he helps me out. Approximates the shit out of it. I thank him with a kiss and then go to the mansion, and give them my final answer.” You lick your lower lip, basking in how intently Levi was listening to your story. “They said I was close enough and that they could finally tell me where the sound was coming from. They lead me to a gold door, and give me a gold key. Actual gold, Lieutenant.”
“Fascinating,” he mutters sarcastically.
“It is,” you agree, humming, “I open the door, but then there’s another door. This time it’s silver.”
There’s deep confusion in those grey eyes. Something is very thrilling about having him hang on to your every word.
“They hand me a silver key, and I open the silver door, and then there’s a bronze door. At this point I’m really irritated, but they give me a bronze key and promise that this is the last door. So I put it in, unlock it, and open the door. And then I finally see it.”
You’ve arrived at the base. Snapping your heels together, you press your fist to your chest and salute. “Thanks for walking me back, Lieutenant. See you tomorrow.”
“What?” His eyes narrow. “Finish the story, (L/N). What was making the sound?”
You gasp in mock surprise, scandalized. “I can’t tell you, you’re not part of the secret society.”
If only you could capture his face in this very moment. It’s as though he goes through all the stages of grief - denial, anger, bargaining, depression and acceptance all in one second. His mouth falls open in surprise, and you burst out laughing, pointing at him gleefully.
“Ooh, I got you so good!”
Levi gives you the dirtiest look you’ve ever seen, which only serves to make you guffaw even louder. You grin broadly - it feels so amazing to one-up him, even if it’s in this brief, stupid exchange. He can take this as your revenge for flustering you in the hallway a few months ago. Just who did this man think he was playing with? You are the product of the bitches and bastards of the fakest place in the world, so yeah, you can tell a story, and you can act your heart out. In fact, what were you doing here in the military? You should’ve joined a traveling theatre group, now that would have put your many talents to good use.
“Your sense of humor is shitty,” the lieutenant informs you flatly. Oh, you beg to disagree. “Laughing at your own jokes doesn’t make them good. So it was all fake, then?”
You do your best to control your giggles. “Y-yeah. I don’t just sleep over at random mansions. And I’m not scared of being alone in the dark.”
“All of it was fake?” he asks again, and this time it’s your turn to be confused.
“Yes?”
He tsks, whether at you or himself you’re not sure, then lets out a tired sigh. Sparing no further pleasantries, he orders you to bed, warns you not to be late tomorrow, and adds that he’s looking forward to the fresh hell he plans to inflict on you. You salute again, just to be extra, then start walking to the female barracks, still laughing to yourself. Hopefully this won’t seem like a hazy dream tomorrow. You got him, you really got him.
Just before you change into your nightgown, a fleeting thought pops into your mind.
Was the reason the lieutenant double-checked that the story was fake because you mentioned that there had been a guy you liked? No, that was ridiculous. He probably just wanted to check that his subordinate that he was investing so much time in wasn’t a complete idiot. But the thought is stuck in your head now, and you fight back a smile, burying your face in your pillow. Maybe you are a little drunk, but you could go back to hating him in the morning.
____________________
It’s astonishing to you, but you’ve actually improved. Gone are the days of your legs aching after running a few measly laps. When Rashad attempts to pin you down, you can flip him over and hold him there. The ODM gear starts to feel more natural, and zipping through the air is slowly becoming muscle memory. Even the swords feel just right in your hands, although it’s weird that you could run out of them and then have nothing to defend yourself with. Oh well, you don’t plan to be in that kind of situation anyways.
You hate to admit it, but Lieutenant Levi’s training is paying off. It’s not something you realize until you learn, with a start, that you are in the top ten. Number six, to be specific. Ricky mocks you endlessly for being one of those people who say they don’t care when they in fact care very much, as though he’s not two ranks below you.
Without telling Millie, you send a letter to your mother, telling her about your achievements.
Mama,
Sorry for taking so long to write. I wasn’t so sure you wanted me to. I still don’t know. But l wanted to tell you that I’m doing well here. I’m number six in the ranks. Isn’t that cool?
Millie’s doing well too, although I’m sure Mrs. Shackel keeps you updated. We have these two boys who follow us around like annoying flies. One’s from a village in Rose, and the other’s actually from an outer city of Wall Maria. Don’t worry, I don’t plan to marry a poor boy. I’ll find someone rich to settle down with eventually.
I hope you’re taking care, and I hope Grandma is too. Her condition hasn’t gotten any worse, has it? If you need me to send something from here, I’ll do my best to see if I can find it.
I wish I was the kind of daughter who could write you a longer letter. Sorry, Mama, but I’m not sure what else to say. Who knows if I’ll see you again?
Lots of love,
(F/N)
____________________
“I” - huff - “need it.”
“No.”
“I” - huff - “will” - huff - “kill you.”
“Tch. You’d try.”
“Just give me the water, please.”
“You still have a lap left.”
“I’ll do it, it’s important to stay hydrated!”
“Do the lap, then you get the water.”
“If you don’t give it to me now, I’ll faint.”
“Then I’ll leave you out here.”
“You wouldn’t - well, you would, but you shouldn’t.”
“Don’t want to. So get to it.”
“God, fine!”
“...”
“Now can I” - huff - “please have it?”
“I don’t know, can you?”
“You are such a -”
“You talk too much.”
“Oh my” - cough - “God. Are you trying to choke me?”
“You wanted the water.”
“To drink, not for you to shove down my throat and waterboard me with!”
“Ungrateful wretch.”
“What are you, a charming prince from a novel?”
“Yes. Now drink up, my bratty duchess, we’ve got more work to do.”
____________________
There’s dirt on your face, your sleeves, and your shoes, and yet you stay still, with a small grin on your face. You’re lying down, facing up, hands pressed up against the ground. To anyone flying above, you’d blend in with the dirt perfectly. Or at least, that’s what you’re counting on.
Somewhere out there, Ricky is on the hunt looking for you.
Your gear lies hidden a few feet away, since you didn’t want anything chunky to ruin your brilliant camouflage. Obviously a good long wash will do wonders for you later, but for now you stay quiet, ignoring the filth on your otherwise pristine self. The forest is quiet, with the light chirps of birds that you’re sure are very cute but would take a shit on you if you stay here too long. You breathe in and out quietly, stomach tense as you wait to see if your plan will work.
The wait isn’t long. You hear him before you see him, faint clicking sounds that his ODM gear is nice enough to alert you with. Pressing down into the ground, you hold your breath and close your eyes halfway, convincing yourself that you’re part of the nature that surrounds you. If you believe it hard enough, maybe this will actually work and Ricky won’t spot you.
After a second that feels like an hour, you hear him fly away and you breathe easy, running a hand through your hair.
Only then you feel something brush up against your finger, something hairy that’s crawling up your hand -
You let out an ungodly shriek, jumping to your feet. The poor bug that crawled onto your hand is flung off as you thrash your arms this way and that, smacking your skin just to get it off, get it off, get it off!
For all your efforts, Ricky hears you scream and immediately zooms back, chortling. He lands down in front of you, placing his finger on your nose as soon as you calm down.
“Found you.”
You sigh. This extreme version of hide-and-seek may have been a bad idea.
____________________
Millie has her head in your lap, a map in her hands as she shakes her head. Apparently there’s something marvelous about the document, since she can’t keep her eyes off it.
“I don’t think I ever realized how large the space is between the walls,” she mutters, “there’s so much distance between Maria and Rose. It didn’t feel that way when we came here.”
“Yeah,” you hum, absentmindedly tracing designs on her cheek, “makes you wonder how different people get the more inward they go.”
Millie’s nose wrinkles in concentration. “Stephen has a slight accent. Have you noticed?”
“Mmhm. He does good work hiding it, though. It’s hard to pick up on it unless he has to roll his r’s.” You try snatching the map from her hands but she holds on tightly, scolding you over trying to give her a papercut. Well that’s hilarious, considering the two of your are covered in scratches and bruises all over, but that’s Millie for you, always striving for the closest thing to perfection she can get.
You lean your head back against the bark of the tree, leaving her to her observations. It’s been a while since the two of you have gotten to hang out together, away from everyone else. It’s really no one’s fault, you’re both busy and it’s not like you haven’t already spent most of your lives together. Millie has her studies to religiously focus on, her rivals to crush, and apparently her maps to drool over. Meanwhile, you have friends to playfully compete with, horrible doodles to draw next to your scribbled notes, and your mind is strangely preoccupied with…
“Look, it’s your best friend,” Millie said noncommittally, nodding her head to the right.
Deja vu hits you like a merchant’s cart. You’re sitting under the same tree, he’s walking in the same direction. When he catches your gaze, you decide to complete the scene and give him a bright smile and a friendly wave.
Levi stares at you for two seconds, and then rolls his eyes and keeps walking. You bite your lip, just slightly amused.
It’s an improvement.
____________________
"(L/N), you’ve got a letter too!” are the words that shake you out of your sleep haze in the morning. You jump up, pushing past the others trying to get their hands on their mail. Reginald, the man who's nice enough to put up with this crap once a week, thrusts an extremely fancy envelope in your hand. Your name is written on the back in your mother’s expert penmanship. You eagerly walk back to your seat, ignoring the glares and eyerolls from some people who obviously weren’t getting their letters in pretty envelopes.
You sit back down at the table, opening the letter with extra care. It’s from your mother, and that makes it precious, so you want to savor it the best you can. Across from you in her normal seat, Millie raises a brow.
“Your mom wrote to you?”
“I wrote to her a few weeks ago. Just wanted to catch up,” you say quietly, not meeting her eyes, “I’m surprised she wrote back.”
Next to Millie, Stephen’s brows furrow. “Why wouldn’t your mother write back to you?”
“No reason,” you answer quickly, “she’s just a busy woman.”
With your friends’ watching your reaction carefully, you unfold the piece of paper, beginning to read.
To my darling daughter,
You say you don’t write much, and yet it gave me a headache just to read that much. You know that I like to be organized, so I’ll answer your unwanted letter point by point.
It’s certainly wonderful that you’re sixth in the ranks. Perhaps that means you’re the sixth least likely to die? Maybe the next time I hear from you, it’ll actually be from your commanding officer telling me how special you were, but how that didn’t stop you from meeting your terrible end. Hopefully there’ll at least be a small pension that comes with it.
Mrs. Shackel and I met for tea last week. She told me you were being personally trained by the best soldier in the Scouts. I have an idea - marry him, someone with such a valuable skill set surely isn’t poor, and is much better suited to your tastes. That way not only will you leave me without a daughter, but you’ll also leave the poor man a widow as well. Would that satisfy your cruelty, dear?
I am taking care. Grandma is taking care. We are doing fine without you. We don’t need anything from you. I don’t think we ever have. Had I known I was raising such a manipulative, heartless girl, I would have prayed to that ridiculous church that you die during childbirth. Unfortunately, Sina did not give me the good instincts to run a knife through you the second you were born.
Please do not write again.
Lots of love,
Your doting mother
“(F/N),” Millie starts immediately, taking in your stricken expression. She must have a good idea of what the letter says. “Forget about it, she’s a -”
You clear your throat loudly, standing up. Stephen looks worried, but he also seems unsure as to what to do. You don’t want him to do anything, hell, you don’t even want Millie to do anything. You want to get out of here. The room is suddenly suffocating. Your eyes are stinging but you are damned if you’re going to break down in here, so you only shake your head, unable to form words. You wave a hand at Millie, hoping she gets the hint not to follow you.
Without looking at anyone, you rush out of the mess hall. Despite your determination to wait until you’re definitely in a secluded area, tears start flowing down your face the second you step out. With an ugly, pained sob escaping you, you break out into a run.
Now that it’s getting a bit chillier, the cold bites into your eyes, making them water even more. You stop running after a few minutes, in the middle of the grounds. With everyone still having breakfast, there’s no one here yet, and you take that as an invitation to drop to your knees and start crying in earnest.
Why did she have to be so cruel?
You’re not a crier, you’re really not. An avid complainer, sure. A whiner at times. Definitely a sore loser. But you don’t particularly get any catharsis out of crying like so many other people do. When it comes to your mother, though...she’s just always known exactly where to strike her punches to turn you into a helpless little girl again. She can make you start blubbering so easily, and you hate that she can control your emotions even from so far away.
So you read the letter over and over again, until you’re mouthing the words on your lips that taste salty from the waterworks coating them. You’re trying to be quiet, but it’s beyond your control. You’re sobbing and wailing, and showing no sign of stopping.
There’s a quiet rustling beside you as someone walks up, and you shut your eyes tightly for a second. “M-Mil, I’m fine, I swear.”
“Are you?” Levi inquires, and you choke on a surprised sob, swallowing the embarrassing sound at the last second. Furiously wiping your eyes, you make to stand, but he crouches down instead.
He’s been in close proximity to you before, but never like this. Right now he’s near enough for you to reach out and touch his cheek if you so desired, but far enough that he’s not overwhelming you, and yet you can see the pores on his cheeks, the individual lashes lining those gorgeous grey eyes. You wipe your cheeks angrily. Great, just great, this incident will set you back several months on your plan. As though he was someone who needed to see you in such a vulnerable state.
The lieutenant outstretches his hand expectantly, and you’re not sure why you give him the letter so easily. You watch as his eyes scan the cruel words.
“I know,” you say before he can speak, “I know it’s not a big deal. But she’s my mother, I just - I just wanted her to - I thought she could at least be a little proud - “
You don’t realize another tear has rolled down your cheek until he brushes his thumb across your face, wiping it off easily. God, he must think you so weak. You wouldn’t be surprised if he decided to stop your private lessons right here and now.
But when you look at him, there’s no condescension on his face. There’s not even pity. You can’t place it. To an outsider he might look angry, but after knowing him for almost a year, you know that’s not it. It’s something strangely...protective. Fierce. You never expected him to look at you like that. You don’t know what to make of it.
“Stop crying,” he orders, not unkindly. It could be taken as a request. “Do you want to keep this letter?”
“I - I don’t know.”
It seems your body is more obedient than you are, because you stop tearing up, and when you wipe your face again, it remains dry.
“That’s it,” Levi murmurs, as his hands hold yours, warming them up. “Personally, I’d rip it to shreds. But that’s up to you.”
What’s going on? He’s being...well, he’s being nice. He’s never nice. He’s not always unpleasant, and he indulges in your silly banter, but he’s never been so...soft, especially not with you. And just why are you so easily warming up to him, going as far as to curl your fingers around his? Is it because his hands are warm against your cold ones, or is it...is it because…
“I want to keep it,” you blurt out, partly to keep yourself from the unwelcome thoughts inside your head.
He nods. and then gently grasps your arms, bringing both you and him to your feet. He places the letter in your hand, and then proceeds to brush the sides of your uniform off. It’s rough, but you’re emotional and this feels like the nicest thing anyone’s ever done for you.
“Thanks,” you breathe. It’s hard to say, but you spit it out anyways. “I - I don’t know what to - thank you.”
Finally, Levi looks like himself again, because he rolls his eyes and mutters, “I just picked your lazy ass up, (L/N), don’t look so fucking grateful about it.”
You smile softly, but he looks away, obviously feeling awkward. He truly goes through moods like he’s trying on different outfits, the weirdo. You decide that just this once you can spare him - besides, you need to save face too. You turn around, intending to walk away.
The lieutenant grabs your hand at the last second. He grips it tightly, keeping your arm outstretched. If only your heart could stop lurching like this, it’s not as if he’s going to pull you in for a kiss - he’s not the type.
“(L/N).”
“Yes?”
“From now on, if you’re going to cry, you’re only going to cry because of me. Understood?”
You swallow the lump in your throat. “Yes, sir.”
He nods, satisfied, and lets you go.
____________________
You can’t believe you’re doing this.
In the past year, you’ve been to Lieutenant Levi’s office once, maybe twice or thrice. Either you had something to tell him (like how you couldn’t train due to severe emotional trauma, which was usually denied), or he led you there himself, to quickly grab something. How come he gets an office anyway? You’re pretty sure one has to be a captain or section commander to get their own space, and Levi is neither. You suppose being humanity’s strongest comes with its own benefits, even if it is an unofficial title. He gets to enjoy the finer things in life. Lucky him.
Anyways, you hadn’t planned on showing up here after hours, and certainly not with a steaming cup of tea in your hands.
Swallowing every bit of your pride, you knock on the door. “Lieutenant?”
No answer. You knock again.
And again.
It’s right as your knocks get just a touch louder that you hear him groan, “I’m coming, just hold on a second.”
When Levi opens the door, you take the quickest second to note that he looks how he did the day he walked you home, dressed in casual clothing. Realistically you know that no one stays in their uniform all day, but it’s still jarring to see him out of it. Someone might mistake him as approachable, although that ridiculous notion would quickly evaporate when they got a good look at his face.
He gives you a quick annoyed lookover, clearly waiting to hear your reason for disturbing him at this time.
“Chamomile,” you say with a grin, thrusting it forward, “Helps you sleep.”
He gives you a long, deadpan look.
“Who asked you to make this?”
“No one asked me.” You let out a puff of air to blow the loose strands of hair that have fallen out from your bun into your eyes. “I’m being nice. As thanks for...you know. Just take it.”
Levi doesn’t take it, but he does turn and go back into his office without closing the door, so you take the invitation and slip in, shutting it behind you. He slips into the chair behind his desk and you make yourself comfortable in the one in the front. There’s important looking documents all over, but there’s an order to them - a method to his madness. There’s not a single pen out of place. Of course, this is your obsessive compulsive midget who organized it, so you can’t expect anything else.
You slide the cup across the desk, where there’s another cup of tea already half empty. Oops, you’ve accidentally fueled his caffeine addiction. “That doesn’t look like chamomile.”
“It’s not. Just regular black tea.”
“Won’t that keep you up even more?”
“That’s the idea,” he says calmly, relaxed and leaning back.
“Wow, you’re a proud insomniac.” You shake your head in a disappointed manner. “If it were me, I’d at least try to sleep.”
Levi gives you a little glare, then pushes aside the paper he was working on to pick up your gift. He peers at it, looking a bit tired all of a sudden. It’s as though the day or the month or the entire year is catching up with him, and his eyes flicker to your eager face before he lets out a long sigh, raises the cup and brings it to his mouth.
Almost immediately he gags, slamming it down as his face scrunches up in disgust. “What the fuck, (L/N)? This is shit!”
Well, excuse you. You’re not a professional tea sommelier, and this isn’t some dainty cafe.
Still, you wince, crossing your arms and curling back into the chair. “Sorry. I’ve never actually made tea before. I’m not a fan.”
“Let me guess,” Levi says in a scathing tone as though you just admitted to cold-blooded murder, “you drink coffee.”
What an ignorant thing to assume.
“I drink milk, I’ll have you know.” You snap this at him, only realizing a second later that it’s not really something to boast about so proudly.
Something he clearly realizes as well, because he’s fighting back a smile and failing pretty miserably. “You drink milk.”
Well, there’s no taking it back now. “Yes.”
“Milk.”
“It makes your bones grow strong, okay?”
He laughs at you, leaning back in his seat. “Of course it does.”
“Don’t make fun of me, it does!”
You bite down the comment that comes to mind, which is that he must not have drank much milk otherwise he’d probably be taller. You’re here to be nice, you remind yourself, even if he’s being his usual infuriating self. There’s lots of nice things you can do, like...like…
Oh my gosh, are you the mean one in this relationship? No, that’s impossible.
“Looks like you have a lot of work,” you say, gesturing to the piles of paper on his desk. “Want some help?”
Levi raises a brow at you, as though to ask you how much help you possibly think you could be. That’s fucking rude. “No, I wouldn't want to waste your strong bones on some boring paperwork.”
It’s your turn to glare. Maybe focusing on his totally wrong opinions about your choice in beverage will help you ignore the fact that the two of you are sitting, dare you say, cozily, in his office. He’s not kicking you out, he’s indulging you in conversation, and he’s even taking another sip from the supposedly terrible cup of tea you made for him. Sure, he grimaces after drinking it, but he’s not throwing it out. That’s...something.
Your relationship with the lieutenant is quickly becoming something dangerous. You’re enjoying his company a little too much lately. You’re thrilling in his laughter too often, you’re drowning in his eyes an unhealthy amount. It could be chalked up to the fact that you’ve just grown accustomed to him, since you see him so often, but you know that’s not it. The more likely explanation is that you just have such low expectations for him that the second he shows basic human decency, you mistake your surprise for some newfound affection for the man. You want that to be the explanation, at least. The alternative is too awful to think about.
“So,” he begins, and you think you’re about to be kicked out until he says, “shitty mom. What’s that about?”
You sigh. That’s about the only conversation topic you don’t want to breach, but you suppose it can’t be avoided. “Typical rich girl problems. She wants to use me for her own purposes, so she’s not happy I got up and abandoned her. Plus, Dad died outside the walls, and she’s not really a fan of me following in his footsteps.” You feel comfortable telling him this much.
Levi looks thoughtful. “Do you plan to die out there?” He’s not fazed by your blunt attitude at all, which is kind of refreshing, actually.
But the question is still...well, how do you answer that? How do you answer it without disappointing him? And why does it matter if you disappoint him? You don’t have the answer to any of these questions, so you only shrug and avert your eyes, letting them drop down the floor. Your goals are your own, and he doesn’t need to know them. He doesn’t pressure you, only hums in understanding.
“I’ve really never had a cup of tea this bad.”
You smile, grateful for the change of topic. “No one’s forcing you to drink it. Lieutenant.”
“Insolent brat, you go a whole conversation and then add the title like you’re doing me some kind of fucking favor.” He’s good at avoiding the topic too. Your eyes light up, and you lean forward.
“Pardon me, sir. Lieutenant Levi. Your grace. My prince charming. The duke of destruction. My deepest apologies.”
“Not forgiven.” He smirks, thoroughly entertained. “Try harder.”
“Make me.” The response slips naturally through your lips, inviting and seductive.
Oh for the love of Rose, you think to yourself, please shut the fuck up. It’s like the second you resolve to keep things neutral with him, he sets something up so well that you have to say something borderline flirtatious. It’s just too easy with him. You lose all semblance of self control, and always end up saying something stupid.
“Should I?” Levi muses, a gleam in his eyes now. “Your mother did suggest that you marry me. Maybe I should take her up on that.” He leans forward with a cruel smile, as if the idea is perfectly enticing to him. “Would you finally be a good girl and listen to me then, (L/N)?”
You freeze, mouth falling open. You had really, truly forgotten that your witch of a mother had included that in her oh-so loving letter, and that he’d read it. Holy hells, the universe wouldn’t be satisfied until the man in front of you had humiliated you in every way, shape and form. And this right here, this is exactly the fucking problem. He never stops you when you unintentionally flirt with him - most of the time he ignores it, and other times he encourages you and you daresay he flirts back. To mess with you, of course, none of this is genuine, but it makes the butterflies in your stomach freak out either way.
“Probably not, sir,” you force out when you find your voice, “I’m actually not looking to get married at all, so if someone did make a wife out of me, I’d fight them tooth and nail.”
He snorts. “Of course you would. Have to make use of those strong bones somehow, don’t you?” This fucking midget, he somehow musters up the audacity to leave you flustered and then moves on and pretends like nothing happened. What an asshole.
“Oh my God,” you groan, “leave me and my milk alone, caffeine addict. Seriously, I know it’s bad out there, but it can’t possibly be bad enough for you to act like such a hardass all the time.”
Levi pauses, the sharp retort that he was surely about to fire dying on his lips. There’s a brief flash of sadness in his eyes, and you bite your lip. Fuck, maybe you’re the one who crossed the line this time. You have a quick apology ready to go. but he speaks before you get the chance.
“For your information,” he says coolly, “I’ve always been like this.”
Well, that’s interesting. He’s not wartorn, just a grump? No one is just negative all the time for no reason, they have to have been screwed over by life somehow. You can’t take his claim at face value, you just have to do some more digging.
“And why is that? Rough childhood?” You snap your fingers, invested in this new guessing game. “Orphaned as a baby. Cast aside by a sibling.” Your eyes sparkle mischievously as you grin. “Abandoned at the altar by your long time lover. She left you for your cousin!”
“It’s past your bedtime,” Levi says, standing up, “lovely of you to drop by, but you better get going.”
The cup that you gave him is now empty.
“Injury. Business deal went wrong.” He pulls you up by your arms, ignoring your scientific hypotheses. “Your favorite pet died. Ooh, I know, the company your father left you in charge of went bankrupt! Wait wait wait, Levi!” He’s pushed you out of the room and has a hand on the door, but before he can close it, you place your palm against his chest, looking at him very seriously.
“Is it the altar one?”
“Why do you need to know?” he asks, seizing your wrist to take it off.
See, this is what you mean by setting you up perfectly. It’s his fault, all his fault. “If my betrothed has a scandalous past, I think I have a right to that information.”
Levi shoves you out and slams the door shut, leaving you beaming as you begin to jog to your dorms. That’s another point for you, and now that you’ve paid him back for comforting you earlier the two of you are even, and you can return to planning for the battle that he has no idea he’s participating in. The stars shine brightly that night, and you sleep easy.
____________________
“Look, they’re back!”
Everyone ignores Grumman’s instructions to stay right where they are, an action they’ll probably pay for in blood, sweat and tears later. The Scouts are returning from their latest expedition, finally. Everyone around the base is always tense when they leave, and now people can rest easy knowing that the next one won’t be for a few months. There’s apprehension in the air - as of right now, no one knows who made it back and who wasn’t so fortunate. You feel a twinge of guilt at the relief that you know the only person is the Survey Corp that you care for know is the most likely to have survived.
Sure enough, there he is next to Captain Erwin, looking weary as he gets off his horse. You’ve pushed forward to the front of the crowd of cadets, all scanning the crowd. You find yourself sandwiched between Ricky, whose long legs make it easy for him to keep up with you, and Petra, who is sighing with a dreamy smile on her face. You follow her gaze, confused.
“What, one of them bring back some food?” You crane your neck to figure out what she’s looking so lovingly at.
“No.” Petra points discreetly, and you follow her finger. “It’s just, he’s rather handsome, isn’t he?”
“Who, Erwin Smith? I mean, I guess, but he’s not really my -”
“No, (F/N).” She shakes her head fondly. “Lieutenant Levi. Don’t you think he’s extremely good-looking?”
Next to you, Ricky barks out a laugh, and you elbow him as you utter with the grace of someone who hasn’t been fantasizing about Levi’s eyes since the moment you met him, “No, not really. You can do better, Petra, trust me.”
A soldier rides in late, his face panicked and sweat trickling down his face.
“Oh, come on, I know the two of you have your differences, but even you have to admit that -”
One second, you’re chattering with Petra and wrestling Ricky with one arm as he grinds your foot against his.
The next second, your ears are ringing with the words that the soldier screams as loud as he can.
“The titans have broken the outer wall! They’ve gotten into Shiganshina!”
In a single moment, everything you know and hold dear changes.
All at once people are shouting, screaming at the poor soldier who delivered the news to explain. The titans have gotten into Shiganshina? How could they have? Is he out of his mind? Who sent him? How many drinks has he had? What does he mean, they’ve broken the outer wall? It’s a wall, it can’t just be broken, so what does he mean? What is he talking about?
It takes you a minute to notice Ricky has completely frozen next to you. His hands are trembling, and he’s mumbling to himself and shaking his head, as though this is a nightmare and he just needs a good pinch to wake up.
“My - my mom and dad, and my sisters,” he’s saying. “They’re not...they can’t fight titans, they’re not soldiers. They need...need help…”
With a terrifying realization, you remember that he’s from Shiganshina. You’re grabbing his arm to steady him, words of reassurance getting stuck in your throat. You don’t know what to say - you can barely control the consuming fear growing inside you, let alone soothe his.
In the next few seconds, Commander Shadis has learned everything he’s going to learn from the messenger, and he lets out a scream you will remember for the rest of your life. The order that’s delivered to you on humanity’s darkest day is simple.
“All Survey Corps members will refill their gas and restock their blades immediately! I want you all back on horseback in five minutes, you hear me? We are riding back to Shiganshina right now! All cadets and other personnel at this base are to gather the rest of the horses and get behind Wall Rose to assist the soldiers there with the refugees! Is that understood?”
He’s met with the chilling cries of at least a hundred people shouting, “Yes, sir!”
Your voice was not among the people who answered. As people run past you to prepare, you run forward, because suddenly you’re scared. Suddenly you’re not so sure that he’ll come back. And you can battle with yourself all you want later, all that’s important to you right now is getting to him. Even as you see tearstained faces pass by, you keep running, because you have to catch him before he goes, you have to -
You catch up to him right before he disappears. Steely grey eyes meet yours as people rush past you, no one sparing even a second glance to the two of you.
For a second, he’s surprised. Then he turns cold, and hard, and you know that many people are about to die. And he’s going to have to witness every. Last. One.
“Is there someone in Shiganshina you need me to look out for?” Levi murmurs, with all the softness of someone who might be riding out to his death.
No, you want to scream. Ricky’s family, maybe, but you don’t even know what they look like, and he’s going to have to worry about saving enough people without you placing an extra burden on his shoulders. No, it’s nothing like that, you just want him to...you need him to...
“Be careful,” you manage to get out in a foolish, rushed request, “please be careful.”
Shock makes its way to his features, as though he thinks it’s out of this world for someone to ask him to stay alive for his own sake. Your heart clenches, but you’re not leaving until he promises you he’s going to come back.
“Levi!” Captain Erwin calls. You don’t have any time left.
Even before he speaks, you know that he’s not going to make you the stupid promise you were hoping for. He’s not flowery, and certainly not one to feed you bullshit. No, he’s real, the realest person you’ve ever known, and his answer is going to be as authentic as he is.
“I’ll do my best.” Levi pulls away from you. “You be careful too, (L/N).”
With that, he breaks away from you and is lost in the crowd.
You don’t even realize you had been holding onto him until your hand is left feeling bare, reaching for him in an endless sea of soldiers storming to their doom.
ohhhhhh, i’ve been waiting for this for a long time. surprise, things are happening!
mommy dearest is rather harsh, isn’t she? reader’s no sweetheart herself, but damn.
yes, there’s a slap on titan reference in there.
poor carla is getting eaten right about now, and reader is here having a moment. sigh.
comment and let me know what you think!
#aot#attack on titan#aot x reader#levi x reader#levi ackerman x reader#levi ackerman#valkyrie stories
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Hello beautiful people of Tumblr! Wyn here with day one of White Rose Week 2021 to break my silence! I hope everyone enjoys, and I'll see you tomorrow with day 2!
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Love Bites
Summer Rose vanished, and Ruby suffered.
All her life, all Ruby has ever wanted was to belong. She tries so hard to fit in, first with her older sister's friends. But, they all told her to go away. That she's a baby compared to them. "Why would I want to bring you too?" Yang would always declare. "You're still just a baby!" Her friends would laugh with her, call her names as well, and leave her behind just like Yang did.
Her sister's words hurt her, and destroyed any chance of them having a sisterly relationship.
She tried so hard to be a good daughter. But, her father spent more of his time worrying about his troops, his responsibilities, his duties to Goddess and Country. "One day you will understand, Ruby." He would always tell her. "One day, you'll have to make the same sacrifices for a family of your own." His words never changed, nor his actions. He would be gone constantly, leaving her and Yang alone for weeks or even months at a time, meaning she had to grow up far too quickly.
Her father's priorities hurt her and robbed her of her childhood.
She tried so hard to be a good student. But, subjects like english, history, anything really to do with reading simply didn't make sense to her. She could stare at the page of a book for hours and all she could see is a jumble of letters. Everyone called her simple, stupid, a waste of time. "Oh look, it's little Stupid Ruby!" Cardin Winchester would declare every day at school. He and his cronies would torment and belittle her, and once even cut her long hair off. She suffered in silence, her arms the only evidence of her inner pain. Arms she always kept covered even in the worst heat of summer.
Her peers hurt her with their words, with their actions, and made her withdraw further into herself.
She finally stopped being a good sibling. She shut her sister out of her life first, Yang never noticing that Ruby stayed closeted in her room constantly. She was the bright shiny sun of everyone else's lives, with her outgoing and boisterous personality. Everyone's but Ruby's. If Yang is the bright sun, then Ruby has become the darkest moon of the family, and she likes it that way now.
She finally stopped being a good daughter. She did her chores without complaint and without needing to be told, save late at night when her father would already be in bed or Yang too preoccupied with her latest significant other. He never noticed that his younger daughter dresses in nothing but blacks and reds, or that she never let her hair grow back longer than above her shoulders. The career he chose to continue to support his family had a long ago casualty, and Ruby keeps it that way.
She finally stopped being a good student. She kept going to school, despite all but failing in everything. She went through the motions, ignored everyone when they called her things like Queen of Darkness or Salem's heir, or even worse. She ignored the shoves, the bullying, everything done to her until they all finally grew bored of it and her. She was finally left alone to sit in the deepest corner of all her classes, doodling to pass the time until she could return to her room and her solitude.
But then Ms. Peach, the choir director, invited the secretly shy and lonely girl to her class one day and encouraged her to sing. From the moment she heard the piano play, her soul became exultant, and her voice rose in response. Even Principle Ozpin, who was walking by at that moment stopped and listened as the shy, moody, rather dark girl who kept to herself was in possession of a voice that could bring even him to tears. Peach was enthusiastic in teaching her how to read music, how to project her voice, how to truly appreciate her hidden talent for music.
But, Taiyang finally noticed when he was forced to retire. He noticed the true state of his family, and decided to take firm control. He destroyed her growing dreams when he declared she and Yang both were to join Beacon Military Academy to finish school. That they needed discipline and not freedom to thrive like he once did. That neither of his children will follow in his long disappeared wife's footsteps, and lack the discipline needed to succeed where she obviously failed.
He was furious when Glynda Goodwitch admitted her as Ruby, allowing her to keep that one small bit of freedom.
She suffered like never before at Beacon. She was admitted two years early as a favor to her father, and she hated it. Her hate translated itself into her becoming a powerful fighter with her chosen weapon, a red and black fifty caliber sniper scythe she named Crescent Rose, and soon where she was once either dereided or ignored, she was now feared. Even her own sister fears her now, and that makes her happy.
She is the Darkest Reaper of Vale, and she hates them all.
But one person did not fear her. One person saw past her pain, her grief for her denied life. Weiss was from Atlas, a mysterious, inclusive land far to the north, where they say even the Grimm do not tread. A land of dark magic, of creatures even fouler than the enemy of the world. A land even the demiurge Salem has forsaken. Weiss did not fear the Darkest Reaper, and took an odd delight in hearing the whispers about her, about them both.
She has her own secrets, secrets Ruby will know all too soon.
She cannot help but to feel an attraction to the white haired girl from the north. Her porcelain skin is always smooth and cool to the touch. Her brilliant blue eyes are like the clear blue skies she would once sit under with her long departed mother while they laugh and imagine whimsical beasts and imaginary places. Her long white hair moves like the finest of silk curtains as she walks from class to class, her nose turned up to their peers as if they are all beneath her. All except for her. She treats the Reaper with respect, with courtesy, and after a time, holds out a hand of friendship to her, one she takes willingly.
She finally has a friend, a real friend. Someone who cares for her, Ruby Rose.
But certain things stand out to her as well. The way she barely eats anything but meat, and even then almost bloody and nearly raw. The way she approaches every mock battle with the cunning of a predator on the hunt. The skill with which she wields her rapier, a dust revolver styled weapon she has named Myrtenaster, with near lethal intent even during the simplest of spars against anyone willing to challenge her. She is the only one who can stand against her, her own formidable rage and loathing a match for the heiress's feral cunning and ferocity.
But one late night, during a restless night they both secretly shared, a truth is told, and their lives are changed forever.
She herself couldn't sleep. It was the one thing she could always count on being able to do. It was her refuge from the reality of her world, and she retreated to it every chance she could. But tonight, she tosses and turns, she begs and pleads with the treacherous brain that won't stop thinking, and finally surrenders and gets dressed. Taking up her scythe, she easily steals away into the Emerald Forest, the guards ignoring her out of fear. She runs deeply into the darkened woods, no fear for the Grimm that hide in the shadows as well as whatever other creatures may dwell within.
She never realizes that a pair of blue eyes follow her, belonging to the single person who doesn't fear her. The only person who is beginning to secretly adore her.
She finally stops near the old temple to the Brother of Light, which has been long abandoned when he left Remnant to it's fate. Sitting down, she begins to cry deep tears of pain and sorrow. She hates her life now, she hates being taught to kill, to end the lives of others. She despises the fact that she is good at it. She never wanted this. All she ever wanted was to be a good sibling, a good daughter, a good student. All she ever wanted was to belong, to love a certain white haired girl and be loved in return.
She almost screams in terror when the great white furred head lays in her lap, with sad blue eyes that reflect her pain.
She stares at the great beast, marveling at the fact that a wolf has appeared here. One of the few things she has managed to remember from her poor studies is that the Grimm killed all the wolves when they first came to Vale. None were spared, and somehow she knows this one knows that. To her surprise, she begins to pet the wild creature, smiling softly at the way it's tail begins to wag as it whines. And then she begins to talk to it. She talks about her mother, her father, her sister, her life. She is soon sobbing in grief at the sadness of her life thus far, and is surprised to see tears in the white wolf's eyes as well.
But she forgot that sorrow is a feast for the Grimm, and they soon gather around her and the white wolf both.
She makes her decision. She throws her scythe to the ground and gives in completely to her sorrow. She is so tired. She is so tired of being turned into someone she wants nothing to do with. She's so tired of hoping people will finally love her instead of hate her or fear her. She is so tired of dreaming of a pair of blue eyes that will never look lovingly at her. She is ready, and the Grimm will feed well on her. But she doesn't expect the snarling, the sudden sounds of battle. Opening her silver eyes, they widen as she sees the once four legged wolf has vanished, a naked Weiss snarling in her rage as she wields Myrtenaster against the foul creatures.
"YOU KILLED THEM ALL!"
She stares at the rage filled young woman. She's never seen her fight with this much savagery, this much hate. Even in battles in which she is outclassed or outnumbered, she is still controlled. She uses superior tactics, the icy calm she is infamous for, and her obviously hidden rage to still rip victory from the jaws of defeat.
"ALL THE PACKS OF VALE ARE DEAD!"
She picks Crescent Rose back up. The white haired girl is beginning to frighten her, and she does not frighten easily. She watches in growing terror as an Alpha Beowolf appears, howling in challenge, Weiss's answering howl frightening her to her very soul. She watches as the white haired woman tosses her sword to the side and begins to growl as she grows. She listens to the popping of bone and sinew as fur begins to spring from her bare skin. She stares on in horror as the one friend she has ever made turns into…
A werewolf. A creature from Remnant's darkest stories has come to life before her, and is defending her while taking vengeance for the long dead wolves of Vale.
"You will not hurt my Ruby…"
She screams as Weiss leaps towards the Alpha, her fangs bared and her still hand shaped front paws slashing at the creature of darkness. The Alpha charges her as well, it's own jaws wide open to bite and tear at the white werewolf, it's own claws slashing at her unarmored and exposed flanks. She hears her friend's scream of pain as the Alpha strikes harder than she can, and causes more damage than she can possibly manage in return, and she finally leaps into action. Weiss is the first person to be her friend. She is the first person to treat her like a person. She is the first person she's allowed herself to start having feelings for in her short life.
She may be ready to die, but she will not let Weiss die for her own selfish desires.
Crescent Rose strikes the Beowolf quickly, breaking the Alpha and the werewolf apart as the Grimm leaps back to avoid the deathblow Ruby aims at it. But Ruby is enraged now. She sees the bright red blood upon the moonlit ground, and it adds to her fury. She hears the whimpers of the injured wolf, and it increases her rage. She roars in her righteous anger as her scythe becomes a blur, the Alpha soon howling in pain before Ruby's final blow comes in her scythe hooking around its neck before she pulls the trigger, decapitating the beast with one final roar of triumph. It takes her a moment to calm herself, a long moment in which she has forgotten her anger, her sorrow, her self loathing. And then she finally remembers Weiss. In a panic, she begins to look for her friend, desperate to ensure that she is safe.
It doesn't take her long to find her, and her scream of anguish can be heard back at Beacon.
Weiss has managed to get back to a small cave, her clothes as well as some supplies stacked neatly in the back. She herself is panting heavily as blood flows steadily from her injuries. But her tail thumps on the ground weakly as Ruby slides to the ground in front of her. She doesn't hesitate, but begins to treat the slashing wounds, bandaging them carefully while doing her best to ignore the pain filled shrieks from the badly injured werewolf.
"Oh Goddesses, I'm so sorry, Weiss. I'm so so sorry!" Is her litany as she keeps at her work, until the blood finally stops. Until the white wolf goes silent save for her panting.
The sun rises, then sets once more, but Ruby has yet to leave the white werewolf's side. Weiss has slept the entire time, but she has stayed awake. She is too scared to close her eyes, terrified that if she relaxes her vigil for even a moment, she will lose the most important person in her life. But her body's needs will not be denied, and she finally falls asleep, the large canine head still in her lap and her grip firm on Crescent Rose's handle.
She dreams of white fur and sky blue eyes. Of days spent watching the skies and laughing. Of feeling loved once more, and being confident in being able to return that love.
She moans as she feels the urgency of the lips on her own. Of the feeling of cold skin upon her own now bare skin. Of cold hands exploring her body and her own hands wandering across smooth, uninjured skin in return. She moans in longing as lips caress her skin with feather light kisses. As her own fingers discover places on the other willing body that bring moans of pleasure from a voice she has come to adore since beginning at Beacon.
But she moans loudly as teeth sink into her collarbone, a tender, almost loving bite from the woman she knows she loves deeply.
"Ruby…" Her voice is husky as she releases the love bite, full of longing and need. She can feel a certain heat against her leg that is foreign to the cold that the rest of her skin belies. She herself feels so hot, so needed. She has never felt like this before, and she wants more. She needs more. But her eyes widen as she catches her lover's hands as they grab at the hem of her panties, her face full of fear once more.
"Weiss… I…"
"I know, Ruby." Weiss smiles softly at the Reaper. "I know what you are. But I have wanted you for months now. Since I saw your strength for myself. Since I got to know the real you, and not your mask of anger and self loathing that you hide behind."
"Weiss…"
"Ruby, I am the last of my pack." The werewolf informs her sadly. "I came to Vale seeking the packs that once roamed here, hoping to join them and be safe." She sighs sadly, her blue eyes dimming. "I am beginning to fear I am the last of my kind."
She sits up and pulls the werewolf into her arms. She knows all the signs of sorrow, being well acquainted with them herself. "I… Weiss I'm damaged. Why would you want someone like me?"
Their eyes meet, quicksilver staring into sky blue. "Because I have been alone since I was a child. But you make me feel like I am home now." She cuddles deeper into the Reaper's arms. "I feel safe with you, and I know I can trust you with my secret."
Ruby takes a moment to think, to gather her thoughts while considering everything she has been told. But her thoughts always return to a pair of sky blue eyes she loves to look into. Coming to a decision, she lifts the werewolf's face by her chin with a single finger and kisses her deeply, while her free hand pulls her even closer.
This may be a mistake, but it is going to be the best one she ever makes.
The cavern is soon filled with their moans, their cries of pleasure, their whispered words of love, their need for one another. Their lovemaking is tender at times, frenzied at others, and intense throughout. Morning found them once again asleep, this time in each other's arms and in a tangle of limbs, a part of Ruby still inside the white werewolf, who smiles as she sleeps deeply. They wake upon that glorious morning and decide that Beacon has nothing left for them, and decide to seek their fortunes elsewhere. Someplace where no one knows either of them.
Someplace where their future children can grow up safely…
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Weiss declares her love for her, and for the werewolf, she will throw everything away for a future with her...
Ruby opens one silver eye, smiling at the blue eyed pup staring back at her eagerly as she whines. Sitting up, she yawns as she stretches, her mouth opening wide as her fangs gleam in the light of the morning sunlight. Bowing her head down low, she nuzzles the white haired silver eyed pup tenderly before the two of them leave the comforts of the small, modest home she and Weiss have built together. It has been a decade since she and the white werewolf left Vale far behind and traveled to Mistral. To their surprise, as they explored the deepest parts of the wilds of Anima, they encountered a village full of others like Weiss, led by a lioness named Pyrrha Nikos and her own mate, a human woman named Nora.
She had heard of Pyrrha, who had been reported killed in a massive battle at Haven Academy. A report fabricated by the woman herself so she too could escape with her own mate and their hard won freedom...
They had met so many others, who had fled the destruction of their own packs and prides, their own groups and hutches. They met Velvet, who was a kind and gentle soul of a wererabbit and her mate Coco, who was the heiress of Mistral's largest corporation and their secret benefactor. They met Blake, a panther who loves to read, and her chameleon mate Ilia. There had even been a tearful reunion between Weiss and her older sister Winter, who had also barely survived the destruction of their pack and had also fled. They even met a pair of birds who squabbled constantly, an overly violent Raven and her dusty, drunken Qrow of a brother.
But the biggest shock comes when they reach one small cabin in particular, where a lonely woman lives. A lonely woman long thought vanished by the young woman, but who in truth had been forced to leave by the man she thought loved her.
Ruby sobs as she rushes into her mother's arms, Summer Rose holding her tightly as she too weeps in joy. A mother and her daughter are reunited to their eternal joy, and Weiss cheers in her happiness for them both.
They talked late into the night, the white werewolf asleep in her mate's lap as mother and daughter catch themselves up on years of their lives. Summer is livid at how Ruby has been treated, how she has suffered for so long because of her absence. Ruby had been furious to discover that her mother had been driven off due to a twist of fate, as she had been bitten by another werewolf during a mission. She had been bitten to save her life, and had been punished for it.
Ruby made her own decision that same night, and smiled as her beloved sank her fangs into her skin in a love bite that would change her forever. She turned willingly, determined that Weiss, her sister, and her own mother will not be the last of their kind.
She quietly cheered her mother onward as she found the courage to move on with Raven, who adored her and treated her with kindness, respect, and love. She had happily held her baby sister when she was born two years later, Weiss still at her side and a smile on her own face to match the look of peace in her eyes. She and Weiss had themselves celebrated the birth of their twin pups a year later, naming them after both their mothers.
But the biggest surprise is still to come.
She still checks her scroll from time to time, she and Pyrrha both agreeing that they cannot remain ignorant of the outside world. There is still danger out there, both from the humans and faunus as well as the Grimm, and all while quietly offering safe haven to others like them, as well as their families. They as well as Raven and Nora are the defenders and leaders of their small community, and they take their responsibilities seriously. But Ruby had been surprised to find an email waiting for her one day, when she had travelled far to the south before turning it on, a feat she can accomplish with ease thanks to her semblance and now enhanced senses and superior stamina.
She never expected to hear from her sister ever again.
Downloading it, she returns to the village and her mate, asking her to read it for her. Weiss of course does so, having been the one who finally helped the Reaper figure out that she was not stupid like everyone in her life claimed, but struggled with severe dyslexia. She and Summer have been helping her learn to finally read and write, but it is a slow process, one she still finds herself getting frustrated with as well as embarrassed. Opening it, she soon stops to summon Summer, the two of them sobbing at the state of the brawler's life since they fled. Tai has placed his blame on his eldest for her disappearance, and she has suffered greatly for it. Her life is a disaster now, and she has already been in a failed marriage. She begs Ruby to at least reassure her that she is alive, that she is at least doing well, that her suffering is worth it if it means that the sister she long ignored is finally happy.
That they have traded places, and that her sister is finally whole in spirit and at peace.
Pyrrha does not hesitate to give her permission to bring Yang back. To allow them to reunite, so that she can see for herself that her wishes are indeed true, and that Ruby is happy and thriving. She goes and meets Yang at Mistral's airship port, where the two of them meet in a long overdue hug between sisters, and not the strangers they have been all their lives. They return together, where Yang is also overjoyed to be reunited with her own mother, Raven. Ruby herself nods in satisfaction that her sister is on her way to a peace of mind she now enjoys, and is grateful that she too settles into life in their village, calling it home as well.
Only she and Weiss bear witness to Winter sinking her fangs into Yang's flesh, the two of them falling in love in this place they too call home.
Summer and Luna play happily with the other children, who include their cousins and their aunt. They are gentle with their younger brother, and fiercely protective of their newborn sister. Ruby and Weiss have slowly become the leaders of their still growing safe haven, and lead both by excellent example as well as with hard learned wisdom and knowledge. They share a deep, beautiful commitment to one another that many envy, one forged in mutual understanding and undying love.
Weiss Schnee came into Ruby's life, and she has prospered...
#White Rose Week 2021#white rose#ruby rose#weiss schnee#Day One#werewolf Weiss#Trans Ruby#here we go!
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Live Watch: S.C.I. Mystery Episode One
I enjoy camp because I've always enjoyed analysis and examination. I enjoy looking at something from all sides, testing it with my fingertips. When I was a child I would sit for hours just looking at something until I had it all held in my mind and I felt like I understood it. Camp necessitates that understanding the way that imitation and - good - parody requires it. To quote Susan Sontag - who articulated what camp is so well - Camp is "a sensibility that revels in artifice, stylisation, theatricalisation, irony, playfulness, and exaggeration rather than content." Because of this camp takes on head to head gender, sexuality, expectations, any sort of defined norm and sequins it up then shakes it down until understanding comes out. When understanding something there are three major ways to work your investigation - what it is, what it's imitation is - the close but not quite, and what it isn't. Camp handles all three, to quote again: "Camp sees everything in quotation marks. It's not a lamp, but a 'lamp; not a woman, but a 'woman.'"
Why are we talking about camp? Because SCI Mystery is some of the best kind of camp outside of drag or screaming about wire hangers. It deals a lot with mental illness in a way that would destroy a serious show, but in this one "mental illness" is a metaphor for being marginalised and a way to talk about the mouse and cat in the room. This show is about being queer. About being gay loudly and quietly, about resisting specific labels and needing them, about the threat of a cure and the blessing of acceptance. All the messy realities of queer life as varied as queer people. Like Lil Nas X's Montero, you can appreciate the effort without being comfortable with it. While the show's allegory of mental illness when many queer people are still told they are ill is done well and there is reason to the choices and tone, things are said which can be hard to hear. Knowing they're there because they're hard to hear and have been heard doesn't help everyone.
With all that said, it's also a fun, silly bl drama. Don't let the analysis scare you off. While the information about camp can be something to be aware of, all this show requires to be enjoyed is a willingness to be amused and spooked in turns.
You know the drill, spoilers below!
* I have memorised the youku sound, I have a triggered response with it. Not all triggers are bad, this one reminds me of Guardian
* Welcome to episode one where we just leap in! But don't worry, one of them has a cute earring and they are colour coordinated.
* Watching from youtube the episode is 38 minutes long while most of the others are 45. Attach whatever emotion you want to that fact.
* The exposition is handily delivered by asking a question which tells us some things, thank you show, I appreciate it
* First episode and he's already giving his partner an in case I don't come back letter to be opened if he dies
* Wait for me!~ Go!~~
* Slow walk with dramatic music: 1 (don't make this a drinking game You Will Expire) this time with bonus almost looking back
* I've seen a similar shot on Hawaii Five O
* Don't explain what's happening, just knock everything over with a jump kick in some absolutely spotless white tennies
* Running with dramatic music with bonus looking back: Does it count? We have yet to hear back from the judges
* They leap into the water with an explosion behind them, we are less than 2 minutes in and I love that for them
* At first I thought the boats were making a big heart before I remembered that I am very silly and they are not doing that
* This one is going to be long
* I can see his pockets through his trousers, why are his trousers so thin?
* It's not kissing to dramatic music in the surf if it's CPR
* Each story line has its own intro and that's very sexy of them
* Slow walk/dramatic music: 2-6
* These people are totally goofy and and yet the Seriousness
* Two Weeks Ago!
* The police school bus has arrived to shoo away the crows circling around Dr. Zhan staring (dramatically) at the body
* Sport scar policeman dresses even more unprofessionally than Zhao Yunlan who at least looks like a detective who was jumped by so many criminals he just gave up wearing a suit and went for jeans. Chief Bai's clothes are so thin, I'm under constant anxiety someone is going to tear them off.
* Also several of the cast pictures on MyDramaList look like the pictures your auntie insists taking to send to your other aunties and I love that for them
* Triple axil spin from the victim, the judges are loving it - this is the camp I'm here for
* The dramatic slo mo and music budget for this show was so big, just as it should be
* He's mad because he's angy
* Master Psychiatrist can tell all about the killer from crouching by the body, it's a trope and this is one of the few places I like it because it serves the show instead of the show serving it
* When you're almost boyfriend is going away for reasons and it's not your decision but you can't go with him because of your job so you're just low key bitter about it
* "You can't control me"
* The pettiness between these two
* Professional women who worked hard to get where they are still are constantly obsessed with boys according to most cdramas
*The male posturing in those three second has accidentally circled back around to being gay in the way those bro shows accidentally do and I love that
* I live for this 80s-90s police chief perm
* The Pettiness
* I always tend to like doctor characters, I don't know why. Even when they aren't my favourites I like them.
* She's kind of adorable, I like her (I've seen a lot of this show and every time I say I like someone it ends badly ;-; )
* "the victems"
* If you love Creative English, this is the show for you!
* Chief Bai's crew is trying so hard to get them back together
* Dr. Zhan is so good at psychology he can tell what someone looks like from some tire tracks - this trope is used all the time in crime shows, but they push it a little farther in SCI and it really helps the viewer know what the rules for the show are
* The scene in the psychiatrist's office hearkens back to queer coded villains and the way they're treated in old black and white horror cinema - but done so artfully it's almost invisible. It's incredibly well done, and the awareness of tropes and types all throughout the series is tremendously successful as much as it's campy fun.
* There's also the trope of someone who manipulates someone into feeling like they've been "purified" and then weaponises them against the "filthy". And of course the fact that the killer's blade is a mirror - that he's killing in others what he sees in himself. This trope hasn't just been queer-coded but has been applied to any sort of physical or mental disorder. Thesis have been written about this trope and the anxiety attached to it. I can't write them better and this is long enough, it's just a small part of the excellent handling of the themes showing up in this genre and I wanted to point it out because it deserves appreciation for the skill and knowledge in the writing.
* The whole you need evidence vs you're saying psychoanalysis isn't trustworthy feels very much like a coded angry exes discussion
* I love the establishing shots, so good
* He kind of deserved that door to the face, what was he even doing
* Police violence in crime shows is supposed to be a release for the viewer, but many countries have issues with police violence so it hits wrong. Here it's far more performative in a way that at least has some awareness
* The weirdest phone call, you call someone to tell them something important and they say two things to you and hang up
* The tongue thing, why always the tongue thing?
* When a serial killer tries to compliment you by calling you a carnivore and you shut down the whole alpha male supposition by calling yourself a vegetarian
* At this point I've written almost fifteen hundred words and taken almost two hours to watch 23 minutes
* This is my life, these are my choices
* Dutch Angles
* You could make this conversation about being gay, I have had this conversation about homosexuality before
* Unfortunately while I had it I was on the bus trapped in a window seat
* The conversation didn't end with me saying something cool and everyone clapping
* They just got off the bus to go to work
* The banality of evil, yo
* Her shorts are Incredibly Short, good for her
* "arrest the perp behind my back" that's his job, broheim
* He doesn't ask why she checked behind their ears
* DUN dun dun!
* Slo mo file drop, and of course the file is blood stained and aged
* Chalk Art of Doom
* Chinese word play!
* Caught almost putting his coat over his crush, embarrassing XD
* Backstory!
* I love all the little character details, I could quote lines I think are funny all day but that would start getting silly
* Bai Yu Tong is marked as clean and having OCD but we don't see what's apparently a huge character trait at all other than the all white, do love that he's good at cooking
* Dr. Zhan: Brilliant! Genius! Cannot feed himself.
* Dr. Gong has indifference level 100% which is true and also I love that for him
* I love that Wang Shao part of the team because he's good at making friends, I love that for him
* Poor Zhao Fu: scared of ghosts and dumb and sweet? At least he has an 8 pack
* Jiang Lin is very tropey except the mention of her nearsightedness
* Ma Han's height 1.7m and legs 1.8m is hilarious and I love it
* I stopped recording the slo mo walks, but if you were drinking along with them you might be dead so I really appreciate you taking time out of your afterlife to continue reading. We appreciate all our ghost readers
* And that's the first episode! Thanks for making it to the end!
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Movies I watched in June
Now I think I’m comfortably in a rhythm to get these posts out. For one, I’m writing up short reviews either straight after watching a movie or sometimes it might take a few days. But June was a fairly good month in terms of the amount of films I watched. I got to go to the cinema quite a bit which is always fun.
Anyway, let’s get on with it! If you’re looking for something good to watch (or maybe even something bad), I hope this list can help in some way to introduce you to new and different movies that maybe you’ve never heard of, or were thinking of checking out. Here is every film I watched from the 1st to the 30th of June 2021.
Bo Burnham: Inside (2021) - 10/10
Everyone was going off about how great this film is. An hour and a half of Bo Burnham in lockdown, singing songs and being upset is definitely a powerful hook and I have to agree with the general consensus because Inside blew me away. More thoughts on this in my podcast: The Sunday Movie Marathon episode 34.
Bo Burnham: Make Happy (2016) - 7/10
After watching Inside, I figured I’d rewatch some of Burnham’s older stand-up shows on Netflix. Make Happy is a lot of fun, injected with a lot of introspection from Burnham that really makes the special stand out, despite a lot of gags that just didn’t land for me.
Bo Burnham: What. (2013) - 6/10
It’s plain to see just how much Bo Burnham has grown over the years and how he has honed his comedy and music. ‘What.’ is a good stepping stone in the comedian’s career, showcasing loads of promise in him from a young age. There are some jokes that haven’t aged as well and some that straight up dragged, but overall the show is still enjoyable.
The Conjuring: The Devil Made Me Do It (2021) - 3/10
Packed theatre for this one, obviously. People love a Conjuring movie, and I’d also say people love a good scare… but this movie isn’t scary, or good for that matter. More thoughts on episode 35 of the podcast.
The Conjuring (2013) - 6/10
After the horrendously disappointing debacle that was the third Conjuring movie, I decided to watch James Wan’s original movie and man, if this wasn’t better in literally every way. I don’t tend to love James Wan movies but I can’t deny he’s got so much talent in how he makes movies and it makes The Conjuring a lot more fun to see competent filmmaking in the horror genre in a way that actually creates an eerie atmosphere with creative uses of camera-work and editing.
A Nightmare on Elm Street (1984) - 8/10
Normally I’m not big into the old slasher movies. I appreciate that for the time, perhaps they hit differently, but now I just don’t tend to connect with them. Wes Craven’s ‘A Nightmare on Elm Street’ is a bit of an exception. Don’t get me wrong, it’s not particularly scary, though it does employ a lot of interesting techniques and designs. Undeniably, the design for Fred Krueger is a staple in cinema, with the striped jumper, hat, scarred face and knives for fingers not leaving the mind of the general public any time soon. Elm Street doesn’t have too many kills but when it does, it is so effective and fun to watch. Craven was one of the greats, truly.
One Cut of the Dead (2017) - 8/10
This has to be one of the most engaging zombie movies I’ve seen in a long time. There’s a lot to spoil with One Cut of The Dead but I won’t go into that here. It is clever and funny, subverting expectations in ways I really didn’t expect. I really cannot recommend it enough.
Dave Chappelle: Sticks & Stones (2019) - 8/10
Since we’re watching Chappelle's Show for episode 45 of the podcast, I wanted to get an idea for what I was in for, so I watched Dave Chappelle’s stand-up show from a couple of years ago. Yeah, really funny, which I suppose is what you want from a stand-up special, but what makes it better is Chappelle’s commentary on the world at large and how he’s able to combine humour with intelligent criticism.
Fear(s) of the Dark (2008) - 4/10
A few years ago I think I watched this animated black and white anthology film on a New Year's Day when I had foolishly decided to pull an all-nighter and then go out with mates for ice cream. Never again. But I’d forgotten what I thought of this movie and decided to get the DVD for cheap on eBay. Perhaps I am doomed to watch Fear(s) of the Dark only when I am tired because I popped this on when it was nearing midnight. I was lucid enough to understand what I was watching though… and it was quite boring. These short films emulate the filmmakers’ nightmares - an interesting premise in theory, but pretty weak on execution.
The Bourne Identity (2002) - 3/10
We marathoned the first three Bourne movies for The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast, episode 36 so check that out for my expanded thoughts on this, the best Bourne of the three.
The Bourne Supremacy (2004) - 2/10
Immediately after, we did the deep dive into Supremacy, the second Bourne and the worst of the three (albeit by a very slim margin). Check out episode 36 for more.
The Bourne Ultimatum (2007) - 2/10
I really couldn’t care less about these terrible movies. It was a horrible chore to sit through them. Ultimatum was also rubbish. More gripes and discussion in episode 36 of the podcast.
The Father (2021) - 10/10
Another trip to the cinema for this masterpiece. I tried very hard not to sob loudly in the theatre where aside from myself, the audience totalled three people. More discussion of The Father in episode 36 the podcast.
Drag Me To Hell (2009) - 2/10
I’m pretty shocked that Sam Raimi directed this. Usually when I watch one of his films, I can see his staple of fun gore, practical effects, crazy camera movements… but there was none of that here. It just felt like a really bad horror, indistinguishable from the regular affair, with no personality or passion. Drag Me To Hell might even have been one of those movies I’d avoided in the past when I was younger because it seemed too scary but no, it was just boring and bad and I feel like there’s something I’m not getting out of this that other people seem to be.
Moonrise Kingdom (2012) - 8/10
At this point, I feel I have to admit Wes Anderson as perhaps my second favourite director. His movies are just so nice and beautiful to watch. Moonrise Kingdom is a quirky love story between two kids and honestly, with any other director, could have been handled poorly because the story is quite simple. But Anderson injects so much of his signature style and personality into the film. A powerhouse of actors with the likes of Frances McDormand, Bill Murray, Bruce Willis and Tilda Swinton, among a few of Anderson’s regulars, make Moonrise Kingdom a breeze. Good for a dark day to lift the spirits.
Nobody (2021) - 8/10
I needed something to fill an otherwise uneventful day, so I hopped on a bus and booked a ticket for Ilya Naishuller’s new action movie, Nobody. The film started and to my annoyance, the lights in the theatre were still on. When I go to the cinema I don’t really want to see the other people sitting around me, so I got up from my seat, abandoning the first two minutes of the film to find a member of staff to turn the lights off. After showing them that the lights were in fact still on, I took to my seat and watched the movie for what felt like a little while before the lights went off. Nobody is a really fun action movie. Perhaps similar in a lot of ways to John Wick, but with more personality to the main character. More thoughts on episode 37 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast.
The Darjeeling Limited (2007) - 8/10
After procuring the Criterion blu-ray from my local hmv, I delved into all the supplements it had to offer, including a making-of documentary, chats with the director, and a gallery of polaroid pictures from when they were shooting the film in India. The Darjeeling Limited is perhaps not peak Wes Anderson, but I do kind of love it. It makes me want to go on a journey to another country with my brother and sister, perhaps in ten to fifteen years. Here, the main characters are three brothers who travel to India seeking some kind of spiritual experience. Things don’t seem to work out that way, however, because I’m not sure how spiritual an experience you can have when you plan out an itinerary to schedule it. Fantastic performances all round and of course, beautiful direction and cinematography.
Face/Off (1997) - 3/10
Was I supposed to laugh? Maybe I was just too tired but I really couldn’t stand Face/Off. It didn’t feel particularly special and despite a couple of fun ideas, it was mostly quite boring.
Luca (2021) - 5/10
The new Pixar movie leaves a lot to be desired. The animation is really second to none and I can’t fault how beautiful the movie looks, more so when it’s set in this little Italian town than under the sea. The story is so uninspired though, with the basic premise being that the protagonists want a Vespa so they enter a competition to win the money to buy one. Also they’re fish that turn into people on dry land. Maybe that’s enough for some people, but I couldn’t shake the familiarity of Luca. It never went in any interesting directions and basically did exactly what I figured it would do. I don’t believe it’s out here to subvert expectations but I would like some creativity when it comes to the writing. Perhaps if I watched it again, I might like it less. It was pretty dull.
Punch-Drunk Love (2002) - 10/10
I’m a little disappointed with the Criterion blu-ray for Punch-Drunk love. It’s supplements host a couple of low-quality deleted scenes that were clearly deleted for a reason, and some weird artsy music videos that incorporated footage from the movie. I was quite shocked at how low-effort it all seemed. The movie itself is fantastic though and I do believe it to be Adam Sandler’s best performance (and I really liked Uncut Gems). He portrays a man who is constantly put down by his family, clearly has some kind of social disability, and on top of it all he’s getting scammed by a sex line. Amongst all this, he’s trying to navigate a new relationship and it’s so sweet to watch all the interactions between Sandler and Emily Watson. It’s a perfect melding of romance, comedy and anxiety, beautifully directed by Paul Thomas Anderson.
Fargo (1996) - 9/10
Another movie you wouldn’t expect to be so funny, especially since it’s based on this horrific true story about murder, deceit and money. But the Coen brothers know how to handle it. Excellent performances, beautiful colour palette, and a story that just gets more and more insane as it goes.
House (1977) - 7/10
House (or, Hausu) was a recommendation for episode 37 of The Sunday Movie Marathon podcast so check that out for more discussion. Generally speaking, this Japanese horror/comedy was bonkers. Insanely creative and abstract (which at points can detriment the film) with an almost Balamory-esque presentation. I was happy to find that the comedy was not lost on me at all; this is a hilarious film, albeit maybe not all the time.
The Princess Bride (1987) - 10/10
I reviewed this in my May wrap-up but this time around, I had recommended The Princess Bride for the podcast, the discussion for which you can listen to in episode 37. It all clicked this time around. It is such a fun, warm movie with a lot of laughs and superb production.
This Is Spinal Tap (1984) - 8/10
Another Rob Reiner joint, a few years before The Princess Bride. This Is Spinal Tap is lauded as a masterpiece in comedic cinema and I might agree; this movie is hilarious. Shot in mockumentary fashion, it follows a band playing shows and trying to get gigs, coupled with the inevitable screw-ups of live performance and creative disagreements. It lost me every now and again but it’s still a must-watch.
The Hunchback of Notre Dame (1996) - 6/10
A decent Disney flick but certainly not their best. One highlight includes the villain singing a lament about wanting to have sex with Esmerelda and calling her a witch for giving him a boner.
Ponyo (2008) - 4/10
Not sure if I’ve ever disliked a Miyazaki movie before but I did not vibe with Ponyo. It came across as very baby and as such, there really wasn’t much to read into. The animation is fantastic as always but so much of it felt specifically tailored to a younger crowd.
Roman Holiday (1953) - 9/10
Classic romance at its best. I had heard on a podcast that this was the sexiest movie the guest had ever seen and while maybe not in the traditional sense of the word, I do get where they’re coming from. I was tearing up with just how lovely it all was, following a princess who runs away and spends the day with a man she meets in Rome (where it was shot on location), doing all the things she’s wanted to do but never could because of royal responsibilities. Fantastic performances from Audrey Hepburn and Gregory Peck who sell the chemistry of the characters so well.
F9 (2021) - 2/10
I’ve never seen any of the Fast & Furious movies and after watching the ninth in the series, I don’t want to. This is basically the Vin Diesel show; we watch him drive cars fast and punch people a lot. Wow! I don’t really understand what it (and forgive the pun) driving people to see these movies if they’re all in this same vein. As far as I can tell, F9 is the goofiest of the series so far and I’ll admit I had a chuckle or two at some of the truly implausible moments, such as a part where one of the team gets shot by about ten men with machine guns, yet manages to kill them all without being affected by the bullets… but overall, in this two-and-a-half-hour experience, I was largely bored.
Shaolin Soccer (2001) - 7/10
I love this movie! Shaolin Soccer is so much fun; it is goofy and out there and completely crazy, all by design. Steven Chow knew what he was making when he set out to craft this insane story of a group of guys using Kung-Fu to play football. The basic story itself is nothing new but it’s elevated by the infectious comedy and implausibility of what’s happening. Balls are kicked into space and across fields so fast the very ground is torn asunder. A man eats an egg off a dirty shoe. This is cinema.
Casino Royale (2006) - 7/10
I had seen a trailer at the cinema for the new Bond movie and I have to say, I’ve never really given 007 the time of day, aside from a few of the very first movies I’d tried watching a while ago. But the new trailer kind of got me hyped, so I wanted to watch all of the Craig era Bond movies, starting with Casino Royale. I had a great time! Even though there’s not loads of fighting or weapons or fast cars, the meat of the movie actually comes from this poker game Bond is playing against the villain, played brilliantly by Mads Mikkelsen. I was surprised to witness a bit of cock-and-ball torture in this 12-rated movie but I would be lying if I said it didn’t stick with me.
Quantum of Solace (2008) - 5/10
Immediately after Casino Royale, I jumped into the second of Daniel Craig’s Bond movies, Quantum of Solace. Sadly it’s quite weak, with not much going on aside from the general Bond fare. Mathieu Amalric’s villain lacked a lot of menace or motivation and generally, I’m not super worried about a brilliant story in a Bond movie, but even the action felt weak in this. Quantum of Solace didn’t exactly upset me but it failed to wow me in any way either. The saving grace of the movie is certainly Daniel Craig as the hero, capturing Bond and what he’s supposed to be.
Skyfall (2012) - 6/10
A marked improvement from its predecessor, Sam Mendes helms Skyfall, Craig’s third outing as Bond. Skyfall delves into Bond’s past as he seems to be slipping a bit, not as much the expert operative he once was. It would have been nice to see more of his fall from grace, as they don’t really show us how he’s become less efficient as much as they give other characters expository dialogue telling us how he drinks and does drugs and is haunted by childhood trauma. For me, that’s where the meat of the story lies and I would have preferred more of a character piece if indeed they were delving into that side of the character anyway. That being said, the fights are still better choreographed than the last instalment and the colour grading and scenery is often very visually interesting. Everything in Skyfall is better than its predecessor and it’s surely thanks to Sam Mendes who does a great job at directing.
Howl's Moving Castle (2004) - 8/10
Another go round for Howl's Moving Castle, as this was a recommendation for my podcast, The Sunday Movie Marathon. My opinion, I feel, is unchanged. It's a fantastic film, and you can listen to more of what I have to say in episode 37.
The Twilight Saga: Breaking Dawn - Part 2 - 3/10
A pretty poor end to a poor series of movies. I'm surprised I've watched the Twilight movies as many times as I have but I also know I'll watch them again. Part 2 I watched with the YMS commentary track on YouTube which, again made the experience a lot better. But otherwise the series seemed to get better as it went along… until the last movie. Ultimately my biggest problem with it is that nothing actually happens and the plot feels like a late addition rather than a natural progression of the story. It’s basically a whole movie of set-up to a payoff that doesn’t even canonically happen. A big thing with YA adaptations in this era was making a final book into two movies, regardless as to whether it needed that much time or not. Breaking Dawn does not need to be two movies at two hours each. About ten new characters are introduced here and the film is afraid of killing even one of them off. It's the last movie! We're not going to see these characters again! Kill some of them! There's just no emotional weight to any of it and I hate to say I was disappointed with the ending because I have such low expectations for these films but man, this was so unsatisfying.
Frances Ha (2012) - 8/10
Life is hard. And I hate this movie because it shows me so much of what terrifies me about being alive. And I love this movie because it shows me so much of what I’m alive for. Noah Baumbach’s brutally honest depiction of growing up and fending for yourself struck me in a way I wasn’t expecting and I think it’s because I’m at a point in my life where I’m worrying a lot about how it’s all going to turn out. The titular character is burdened with the stress of working low-paid jobs and paying rent while juggling school and making time for her passion of dancing as she tries to connect with people she’s lost, as temporary friends and housemates come and go. She feels like a lonely character despite often being around a lot of people. Frances Ha is fantastic and heartbreaking and uplifting… but it made me feel bad so I hate it.
#june#movies#wrap-up#film#follow for more#Twitter: @MShukster#bo burnham: inside#bo burnham: make happy#bo burnham: what.#the conjuring#the devil made me do it#a nightmare on elm street#one cut of the dead#dave chappelle: sticks and stones#fear(s) of the dark#bourne#the father#drag me to hell#moonrise kingdom#nobody#the darjeeling limited#face/off#luca#punch-drunk love#fargo#house#the princess bride#the hunchback of notre dame#ponyo#roman holiday
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Unpredictable (Overhaul x Reader) pt.24
a/n: last of the fluff before we head back to the main arc :*
warnings: this cannot be read solo
Links: part 1, part 2, part 3, part 4, part 5, part 6, part 7, part 8, part 9, part 10, part 11, part 12, part 13, part 14, part 15, part 16, part 17, part 18, part 19, part 20, part 21, part 22, part 22, part 23, part 23.5, part 25
Masterlist to my other fics: here :)
Overhaul’s waiting list: @jjk-biased @infinite-universe-love @dirtypride @blackymomo03 @azzie @purple-rabanito @meximorrita @awesomeee19 @celestial-kanzakii @laure-lo @team-wang-puppy @aydience-world @choros-main-hoe @colorseeingchick @o-dragon05 @but-kairis-not-that-smart (i cant seem to tag again :( hope this lands in your timelines!)
“I’ll be back in about 30 minutes.” Chisaki said as he stood up from your bed. Pressing his palm against your forehead, he felt your fever had only worsened. The vomiting had stopped, which he was more than thankful for, but it was now replaced with fever and chills. Though Gei had stated this was normal and that you should be fine within a day or two, he was still advised to stay till the end of the week.
“You don’t have to, Chisaki.”
“It’s fine.” He waved off. “I have something to do as well.”
Which was true. Hearing that you were craving for onigiri that only that store sold, he took that opportunity instead of having to sneak out. With Kurono now on his way, the quicker they settle things the better. Grabbing his surgical mask, he put it on before stepping into the hallways.
Being extra cautious, he exited your building as if it were something he did often. The security guard merely tilted his hat as a bow before opening the doors. Checking the surroundings, he took out his phone and made his way toward the shop.
It only took about 10 minutes to reach Onigiri Atsamu. When he entered the small establishment, he was greeted by the cook and saw the white hoodie of his right hand man. Before taking a seat he ordered what you had been craving for and took a seat.
“The bullets are ready for testing.” Kurono said with his voice low. Reaching into his pocket, he placed a prototype between them. “Mimic also reported that the heroes are wondering why activity has been low lately. Overheard them saying they might send in more heroes to keep watch.”
“Good. Things should be back to the way they were next week.”
“How is she, by the way?” Kurono took a calculated risk. Strike up a conversation to make things look normal. Though, he was genuinely curious for the turn of events. Especially for that minute second where Kai’s eyes widened. “A pain in the ass?”
“On the contrary, things have been moving quite well.” He shrugged and stared at the man making his order. His black cap hung low enough to cover his face. “Recovery is fast and her friend would be more than pleased at the results.”
“Hmm…” Kurono nodded and quickly eyed his boss. “Aight. Well, that’s it for me. I shall take my leave.”
“Sit.” Overhaul spoke up.
Not expecting that sudden outburst, he sat back down and stared at the man across him. Was there a request he forgot to fulfill? Or was he not truly satisfied with the report he had just given? Every single fault he could have missed ran through his mind till a steaming plate of onigiri was served on their table.
“Order up ya two. Hope ya like it. Added a bit more ingredients since I’m already closin’ up shop.” The cook said as he fixed his hat. His droopy eyes complimented his dark hair.
“Eat up.”
“Eh?” Kurono’s eyes went from the rice ball to Chisaki and back to the rice ball. “I’d rather not. You have more than earned my respect but I do not like to be tested.”
“What are you on about?” Chisaki commented. His face morphing into disgust. “You like onigiris, right? Or have your taste buds changed these past few years?”
“You’ve gotten soft.” He had to comment before grabbing one and savoring the goodness. “Shit these are good.”
“Take your time. I’ll be taking my leave now.” Grabbing the to go bag, he adjusted his mask and left a rather confused but contented arrow-haired man. Recalling that rather shocking moment from last night, he cringed at the memory and exited the shop.
True to his word, he came back within his stated time frame. Expecting to find you still in bed, it was a confusing surprise to find the kitchen filled with sounds of chopping and the speaker softly playing music. Taking a look at the entryway, he saw your back busy with whatever it was you were doing. Putting the bag down on the dining table, he proceeded into the kitchen.
“You’re back~” You finished rolling the last of the sushi. “And right on time too.”
“You’re supposed to be resting.” He leaned on the counter and took his mask off. Tossing it to the counter, he looked at you once more. “What’s with the sushi? We already had dinner.”
“I, uhh, I made these for you.” You lowered your head in an attempt to cover your reddening cheeks. “As a thank you, for taking care of me. I know you were forced to do it but… I appreciate it. I could’ve done it myself and do just as fine b-”
“You’re rambling, problem child.” Tucking in your hair, his touch was as soft as the word could get. Seeing how you jumped a bit at the sudden contact made his chest tingle. It was weird, the sensation, yet your reactions were always worth it. “Don’t bother hiding your flustered face.”
“You can’t just command people to show courage.” You huffed and took a piece of sushi. It was rolled just right and the stuffing placed perfectly. Offering it to him, your heart picked up pace when he leaned down and ate it from your hand.
“One of the best. Not bad, problem child.” He smirked before heading out to take out the onigiris.
Blinking yourself back to life, you cupped your heated cheeks and shut your eyes. You didn’t take any medicine but these past few days, yet you’ve been bolder when it came to your advances.
Recalling the conversation you had with Gei (Of course you called Gei when he left to get those onigiris), your best friend had ushered you to make the most out of your time. If it meant making the move, then you should make your move because it’s the modern times. Nothing but his usual speech when it comes to luring men.
Except this person wasn’t just any man. He was Overhaul.
Then again, the way he casually takes his mask off or comes out of the guest room wearing a shirt and sweats will forever be sketched in your mind.
Arranging the sushi on a plate, you walked to the dining table and caught sight of the onigiris. Putting the plate down and sitting across him, you said thanks and immediately grabbed one. The taste of Atsamu’s Onigiri was always the best. The consistency of the rice was perfect, the filling just right, and the nori thick enough to sustain the weight of savory goodness.
“By the way, I’m feeling much better now. I guess it’s fine if you take your leave tomorrow. I’ll handle Gei. Don’t worry.” You spoke up after the last grain of rice had been devoured.
“Alright.” Chisaki replied as he observed your fingers fiddling with each other.
For a moment, the air between you two grew rigid. Not a single eye contact made. When you told him that you would take care of the dishes, he found himself walking to the bathroom to brush his teeth.
As he was brushing, he couldn’t help but think. It had only been a few days but he had adjusted rather well to your company. Sure, he still managed the Shie Hassaikai but it was with your knowledge and you respected it.
Finished with everything, he headed back to your room and stopped when he saw your figure waiting by the sofa. The faint tint of red on your cheeks made him question your motives. But mostly due to the hideous pink hairband you held in your hands. Taking slow and careful steps forward, he furrowed his brows and crossed his arms.
“What in quirks name are you planning to d--” He was cut off when you hopped a bit and slid the hairband onto him so easily. His breath did a mini hitch when you pulled him down to your height and adjusted the band to pull back his hair.
“Keep your mouth shut, Chisaki.” You were beaming.
“And why should I?”
“Because I’m about to give you the best ‘thank you’ gift you’ll ever receive~” Before he could protest, you took a hold of his hand and dragged him to your bedroom. Pulling him in front of you, though he almost lost balance, you held on to his shoulders and pushed him till he found himself sitting on the floor by your bed.
Not sure what was bound to happen, he observed as you jogged towards your bathroom and came out holding a rather large sachet of something.
Sitting with a bit of distance, you opened the sachet and asked for him to turn around.
“What exactly are you planning, (y/n)?” He let out a sigh but followed instructions. With his back facing you, he did a small jump when he felt his body being pulled down. Realizing that his head was now resting on your lap, he couldn’t help but smirk at the circumstances. “Well, aren’t you unpredictable?”
“What can I say? Gotta keep you on your toes right?” Putting the mask on, you had to admire how long his eyelashes were. Not even Gei was blessed with that kind of length. With his eyes closed, you smiled to yourself. He looked so peaceful and much younger like this. “Give me your hand.”
“Not scared of me overhauling you?” He peaked and lifted his hand. Savoring the heat of your palms as you began to massage. He could get used to this, he kept to himself.
“Why should I be? You’ve fed me, saw my vomit, damaged and fixed my unit, and a whole lot of other shit. I trust you enough.” You replied effortlessly as your fingers kneaded his palms. “Besides, you saved my life. It’s the least I can do.”
Silence hugged the both of you for a few good minutes. By the time you finished massaging his other hand, you asked him to sit down and turn to face you.
“You can overhaul the face mask if you want, I’m gonna be throwing it anyway.” You told him and he did. This would have to be the third or fourth time you’ve seen his quirk in action but it still mesmerized you. “May I?”
“What will you do now?” He squinted his eyes but his actions showed something different. It had not occurred to him that he had scooted closer. When your hands cupped his cheeks and began to gently rub the remaining oils into his skin, he let out a long sigh.
“Stressed?”
“Nothing I can’t handle.” Once again, the foreign sensation hit his chest. The way you were massaging his face, the soft and careful movements you made, clouded his judgement. Seeing how your eyes widened when he held onto your hands was electrifying. Taking a deep breath in, he saw how your eyes landed on his lips… Not knowing that he mirrored your action as well. “Why?”
“Why, what?”
“You know nothing good will ever come between…” The want to say the word ‘us’ had never been stronger, “This.”
“You’re right.” You looked away. “But that doesn’t mean we can’t indulge from time to time, right?”
Knowing this would lead nowhere, you slid your hands away from his and stood up. If there was one thing you needed, it was space and a good splash of cold water to your face. He was right. Nothing good would come whatever the hell was going on between you two.
“Heh.” You chuckled to yourself as you wiped your face. Rubbing your face as you stepped out of the bathroom, you opened your eyes to Overhaul sitting cozily on your bed. Fingers typing away in his laptop. The pink hairband still showing his pretty face. Glancing at the bedside table, he had also prepared your remaining medicine.
“I have made my decision.” He closed the laptop and put it away.
“Which is?” You adjusted your position and faced him. He was still seated but not too long before he too lay down.
“I’ll take my leave tomorrow.”
“Alright.” You gave him an earnest smile before turning around.
“Do you want me to stay?”
“It all depends on you.”
“Just say it.” He moved closer to your body. The mattress dipping behind you.
Facing him once more, you were met with blazing gold eyes that seemed to shimmer in the dimness of your room. Closing your eyes, you welcomed the brushing of his finger against your cheek. When you opened your eyes, blood came rushing to your cheeks at the closeness of his face.
“I want you to stay. But, my intuition tells me I have visitors tomorrow.”
“I can always come back when they leave.”
“I can’t risk them cornering you.” Taking his hand, you intertwined your fingers with his. Surprisingly enough he didn’t protest. “I think video calls will do the job.”
Pulling you closer, the small yelp that filled the room was music to his ears. Having your chests pressed against each other, he was sure you could feel the rapid beating of his heart. The fact alone that his heart was reacting this way only solidified his need. But you were right. The plans have been postponed, any more delays and things could go to waste.
“Okay. I’ll video call you.” Smirking at your widened eyes and red cheeks, he pulled your head to rest on the crook of his neck. “Good night, (y/n).”
- - - - -
-we have reached the final fluff chapter so be we will now be going to the Shie Hassaikai Arc :')
-this story is now reaching 50% completion!
-i hope you guys liked the drawing <3 lmao
-thank you all so much <3 me and my fam are doing much better! we're scheduled for a swab test later in the day and our results will arrive 3 days from now! :')
#overhaul x reader#chisaki kai x reader#chisaki kai#overhaul#bnha overhaul#mha overhaul#bnha chisaki kai#mha chisaki kai#shie hassaikai
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Queen of the Ashes, a frozen fanfic | Epilogue
Frozen | Alternate Universe | Hans x Elsa | Romance, Drama | T+
They meet as children, each with a secret. Plagued by tragedy, their paths cross again many years later, and their secrets are unraveled.
Follow updates: #QueenoftheAshesFrozen
Read below, or find links to AO3/FF.Net/Wattpad on my Tumblr.
NEW: Extended author’s notes here. Read after finishing the Epilogue.
Author’s Note: As you can imagine, this story was quite difficult to end in a competent and thoughtful way. I hope I have done it justice, in any case. Thanks again to all of you for your kind support and comments throughout the last few months. Full reflections and notes on this story to follow in the next 1-2 weeks on Tumblr; follow the #QueenoftheAshesFrozen tag for updates.
»»————- ❈ ————-««
Epilogue
“Your Majesty! Many hearty congratulations to you!”
The king bites the inside of his cheek to keep from frowning at the interruption; the offending duke is never one for subtlety at public events, and this one is no exception.
He smiles as he turns from his conversation with the Portuguese ambassador, who looks less than thrilled at the intrusion. “Welcome, Sir Alan. It’s a pleasure to see you again.”
The duke’s chest puffs out at the acknowledgment. “Indeed. I remember attending many glorious Christmas dinners in the Isles under your father’s reign, God rest his and your brothers’ souls. I hope Arendellian hospitality might improve to match it, under yours.”
The king’s lips twitch as he gestures to the Great Hall, full of laughing guests, music, and light. “I’m sure you can see that it already has.” He nods towards his wife, standing by the throne, for emphasis. “Our queen would want nothing less.”
The duke smiles, though there is the hint of a shadow tugging at his lips—the same shadow that the prince has seen all evening, dancing around the outlines of people’s bows and curtsies and obsequious tittering in his presence.
“And for that we are glad,” the ambassador cuts in, eager to redirect the conversation back to his party. The duke, sensing his imminent snubbing, slinks off in the background with a grumble. “She looks astonishingly beautiful tonight, by the way, Your Majesty. Compliments to her dressmaker.” A keen, sharp light slides across the man’s gaze. “You must feel very lucky.”
The king’s smile widens. “She does, doesn’t she? And yes,” he adds, “I can hardly believe my luck, that she would agree to marry such a poor old wretch as I.”
The ambassador and his party laugh at the king’s self-deprecation, if with a note of discomfort.
“Now, what were you saying about Carnival?” the king says, slipping back into the rhythm of the conversation without missing a beat.
The ambassador’s back straightens. “Ah, yes, well—if you’re both free and able to, we’d love to have you come and visit that time of year…”
The king nods along, appearing attentive even as his actual thoughts lie with the queen.
She stands by the throne as if nailed in place, staring ahead with an unreadable expression, speaking only when approached.
At such times, she is all smiles and grace and beauty, and those that come to her do not see – or do not care to see – anything amiss with her, distracted by the din of the ball.
Her husband, knowing better, notices it. However, drawn to the task of entertaining their guests, all he can do is glance at her in between mindless chatter, echoing their admiration of her long white-blue dress.
It shimmers like stalactites seeing the sun after forming during a long winter’s night, and is made of material so fine and unusual that she cannot explain its construction to anyone, except him. The fractal patterns on the dress, resembling snowflakes, reflect on her bare arms and hands, seeming to turn them into extensions of the glowing fabric.
Her crown of white gold with sapphire insets, newly crafted for the occasion, complements the outfit.
His own is a more standard fare, with fleur-de-lis patterns and pure gold in place of any precious stones. It is the crown her father once wore, and with every dip or nod of his head to the guests, he carries its weight with the appearance of ease and comfort, as if he were always meant to wear it.
The dignitaries and courtiers do not miss the opportunity to mention as much, complimenting his “suitability” to his new position, and flattering him with praise for his “storied” naval career.
He hears the words unspoken by each of them, and the suspicion laying just behind their eyes: that he has bewitched the young queen after escaping his homeland under dubious circumstances, with none left to challenge his claims or rights.
The king knows that his slate will never be fully cleared, regardless of his new title. Even so, it is enough for him to see and relish this sycophancy where there was only contempt before, false as the former might be.
To the conqueror of the elusive and mysterious Queen of Arendelle, after all, go the spoils—though the conquering itself was no easy thing, and he had hardly expected it to be, even from the first moment he stepped foot back in Arendelle, one year ago.
»» —— ««
His embrace with the queen at the docks against a lightning-streaked sky was witnessed by nearly everyone of importance, and soon after, news of it spread like wildfire throughout the kingdom and its neighboring countries. He even received a missive from his mad uncle in the Southern Isles, long and rambling, demanding to know what his deceased brother’s youngest son was doing in Arendelle.
He tore the letter up and burnt the scraps in his hand before he had even finished reading it, knowing that no others would follow.
It was thanks in no small part to the queen’s dogged defense of him in the following weeks that he was able to take up permanent residence in Arendelle, and begin his public courtship of her.
The latter became so controversial that the queen was forced to threaten her council that she would remain unmarried for the duration of her reign, like Elizabeth I, unless they accepted him as a suitor. Although this quickly silenced her opposition, the efforts of protecting him drained her, testing the boundaries of her already limited control over her secret powers.
He made sure to always be on hand to reassure her in such moments, caressing her hair, whispering sweet nothings in her ear, and melting away any overly conspicuous damage with fiery hands until she was calm again.
The princess, on the other hand, was thrilled: she wept with joy when the queen and prince finally disembarked the gangplank, their hands interlocked and clothes soaked through from the rain. Rushing towards them, she enfolded them in a loving, teary embrace, singing her sister’s praises through sobs.
In return, he continued to play the role of the charming, supportive older brother she had never had, keeping the princess as a close ally in his courtship of her sister. She often surprised him with her cunning in plotting ways for the two to be together, alone, out of sight of castle staff; appreciative of her stratagems, he snuck her chocolate as rewards from the kitchen in thanks, befriending the cooks so that they might slip him the choicest selections.
It was with the princess’s help that he became acquainted with the townspeople outside the castle, and, later, with the other provinces of the country. Although the two young women had been isolated from the outside world for most of their lives, the princess’s rambunctious and sociable personality, once fully unleashed, turned out to be a force of nature all its own.
She was keen on exploring everything that had once been forbidden to her, making the acquaintance of anyone she met along the way, commoner and noble alike. He accompanied her on many such trips, making a show of his friendship with the princess to the common people at markets, ports, and fetes.
To this end, whenever she extolled his virtues to them, he looked appropriately demure or humble, shying away from the excessive acclaim.
These events were as much a demonstration of his serious intentions towards the queen as they were his representing her to her people, as she was still often absent. Living in isolation had had the opposite effect on her from the princess, and the queen was slow to adjust, carefully declining most, but not all, of the invitations to meet citizens outside of weekly petitions at court.
His understanding of her reluctance, and protection of her time, helped him to keep the peace between the two sisters. More to the point, it earned him the confidence of the queen, who came to rely on him in an unofficial advisory capacity on various state matters.
Her trust allowed him to finally utilize the skills and information he had absorbed over his twenty-six years in a manner appropriate to his royal title, even if it rankled her council to know that a foreign prince was so closely involved in their affairs.
She refused to acknowledge her dependence on his guidance when concerns were raised, and if his unsavory reputation was ever questioned in association with it, she equally disavowed such claims as unproven and, therefore, slander against her legitimate (and only) suitor.
The citizens, like the council, were slow in warming to him. Knowing the tales and rumors just as well as those at court – though lacking the tact to not mention them to his face – they regarded his courtship with suspicion and skepticism, and showed him politeness only out of respect for their princess or queen when they were in his company.
It was not until the winter after the coronation that he was, at long last, given the chance to prove himself worthy of their affections.
For reasons unknown to anyone (although the prince had his suspicions), an extraordinarily harsh and bitter winter came to pass—worse than any other in recent memory. With the fjord frozen solid and all overland passages blocked by impenetrable walls of snow, foreign and domestic trade came to a standstill, and the inability to export lumber, fur, and fish crippled the economy.
The queen, thinking herself to be the cause of it, shuttered herself inside of the castle; the prince, meanwhile, seizing the opportunity to make a good name for himself, took to the cobblestoned streets with the princess and the servants.
With blankets and bowls of soup in hand, they distributed supplies to the commoners, making sure to mention with every handshake or nod that it was by the queen’s beneficence that the people were provided for in such hard times. The commoners, seeing him acting on her behalf, came to associate her undeniable goodness with him, thanking him and the princess profusely, often through tears, for their kind gestures.
Eventually, he was even able to coax the queen out of her solitude, and escorted her on several rounds of such do-gooding. Seeing the townspeople so grateful for her rare presence lifted the dark pall which had cast itself over the queen since the start of the season, and with its diminishing, so too did the winter ease.
Taking advantage of her higher spirits, he also convinced the queen that it was the perfect time to start working on controlling her powers. After all, he reasoned, the objections of the council had been quieted, and with the tide of public opinion turning in his favor, there was little left to stop them from exploring the extent of her magic.
At first, they conjured small objects together in the privacy of closed meeting rooms, just as she had done in her childhood: figurines of ballerinas, bears, and unicorns, and everyday items around her room. He matched her ice with his fire to encourage her, and after years spent hiding his own powers, he found that he enjoyed the exercises as much as she did.
Later, when the worst of the winter snows and storms had passed, he told the queen that they should venture outside the castle walls to experiment further with larger, more challenging structures.
She initially refused, afraid that creating anything too large might attract unwanted attention, and doubted their ability to travel to the mountains alone without raising suspicions of improper conduct. He persuaded her by reassuring her that the trips would be disguised as mountain retreats with her sister, and that they would only practice together when the latter was out of sight.
Though still unconvinced, she agreed to the arrangement, making sure that all correct precautions were taken and notices sent to her servants and advisers of where and when and for how long they would be gone.
The princess, ever the eager adventurer, tried to lead the first expedition into the mountains, refusing help; when the party became lost after the first hour of hiking, the prince took over, navigating with maps that the queen had insisted they bring with them for backup.
Eventually they reached a small cabin which doubled as a winter goods store, and made it their encampment. They were met there by an ice harvester and his reindeer companion, sent on the recommendation of the castle’s stable master, and in short order, the gruff, awkward young man was enlisted as their guide for the trip. Being unused to any kind of polite conversation in his profession, much less with royalty, his brusque and blunt manners often led him to locking horns with the princess, as he objected to her naïve worldview.
The prince took advantage of one such confrontation to sneak off with the queen into the woods, urging her to make something grand and beautiful. To his shock, she constructed a cottage made of ice, with detailed snowflake patterns on the trimmings inside, a rocking chair, and a fireplace with a sculpture of a flame in the center.
He lost himself in these details, from the book of Aesop’s fables resting on the table by the chair, to the false wooden beams glinting blue under the sun. It was all the more remarkable for not melting by even one drop for the entire time they spent inside of it, though he was afraid to test the limits of the construction by touching anything directly.
It was only when the queen heard the princess call her name that the cottage’s facade began to crack, her fear causing jagged lines to ripple through the ceiling and floor.
Just as he had when they were in the castle, however, the feeling passed as soon as the prince placed his hand on hers, disappearing her anxiety – and her creation – in a single, slow exhale.
Other trips into the mountains followed the first, and the princess, ever eager to find ways to give the prince and her sister more alone time together, began to bait the iceman into quarrels so that he might be distracted from the other two wandering off.
(The tactic worked for the most part, though the prince noticed that the iceman increasingly shot him suspicious looks after the parties were reunited, and seemed to be catching on to the fact that the princess was provoking him for sport.)
With every second they had alone, another opportunity was born for the queen’s imagination to spark and fly, creating objects of ever-growing complexity and beauty. Her heart was light in such moments, and her smile as bright as the sun, bringing an unseasonable warmth to the mountains and valley below.
His only task at such times was to remind her not to get too ambitious with her magic, and risk it being seen.
Her displeasure with these checks was evident, if brief—for while she was getting more accustomed to her power and more enthralled with what she could build, one look at the princess ensured that she never forgot what she could also destroy.
»» —— ««
The king’s eyes drag over his wife’s elegant, iridescent figure across the room as she speaks to the princess, a rare smile flitting across her lips.
They are painted pink for the evening, just as her cheeks are decorated with a light dusting of blush, and he cannot help but marvel at her loveliness.
»» —— ««
The prince had dared not make any overt advances towards the queen from the previous summer through mid-winter, other than securing her trust and loyalty. In spite of her remarkable gesture of affection on the day of his scheduled departure following her coronation – and the declaration of his courtship shortly after – he had been careful in how he approached the physical part of their growing intimacy.
The caution had also been purposeful insofar as wanting to keep her waiting, and breathlessly anticipating the moment in which they might finally consummate their growing feelings.
He ensured that it progressed naturally, as if they were young lovers who had met by chance at a ball: first, by holding hands when they were alone together; then, kissing her cold fingers; and, finally, her pink lips.
»» —— ««
A spark of heat shoots through the king’s stomach at the recollection of that first kiss, which now seems like a lifetime ago.
»» —— ««
It was in the library, where they had shared so many other of their private moments, just as the snow began to melt at the end of winter.
She was telling him about a palace of ice that she wanted to scale up from a miniature she had constructed in her childhood, to a full-scale building – and the uninhibited excitement shining in her eyes enchanted him so utterly that he took her hands in his, and kissed her without warning.
The connection was so immediate, and so electric, that he momentarily lost control of his powers, scalding her hands. His profuse apologies were waved off by the queen, who merely chilled her own skin, and then continued their kiss as before, pressing her cool hands to his hot neck.
They shared many more moments like this in the weeks that followed, growing closer and closer until they were fully embracing, allowing their hands to roam over each other’s clothed bodies whenever they were alone.
With each step forward, the prince noted a correlating dip in the queen’s abilities. It was as if their bond represented a third kind of power between them: one that inhibited her magic, and made her more pliable to his affections and influence.
He was not sure, at first, as to the extent to which she was aware of this effect their intimacy had on her. Over time, however, she became quieter, and less inclined towards sharing her innermost thoughts and feelings with him, as she once had.
Sometimes, he would catch her glancing at him with doubt, or even with fear, when she thought he was not looking. Thinking he knew what was in her mind, he would look down at his hands, and promise that he would never hurt her, as he had before; the queen would deny each time that this was the cause of her discomfort or odd looks, claiming that she had been lost in thought about the state of the country, or about some meeting on her agenda.
Eventually, she grew adept at deflecting such questions with a reassuring smile of her own, which, even though he could see through it better than anyone else, tended to have the effect of temporarily disarming him anyway.
By the beginning of spring, his concerns had been allayed enough to take the next – and final – step in making their partnership complete, and proposed to the queen. Knowing her aversion to public displays of any kind, he performed the act in the semi-private area of the rose garden where they had first walked together, many months before, bending on one knee in the proper form.
He presented her with a show of his affections in the form of a rose, shaped from flames, suspending it in the air. In accepting his proposal, the queen froze it over until it was made of ice, symbolizing their union, and kissed him.
In the kiss, he felt the traces of an uneasy tremor on her lips.
She insisted on starting the preparations for their wedding soon afterwards, and though he was pleased with the speed of the arrangement, he could not help but wonder at her urgency.
The same fear he had seen before began to return, little by little, and though he tried to pry further and discover the reason for it, the queen became annoyed or even angry with him on each new attempt. She would only bear the concerns of her sister, and even then, she was not always able to hide her growing disquiet.
The princess assured him that it was just premarital “jitters,” and that her sister would return to her “normal” self once the preparations and ceremony were over and done with. She reminded him of how anxious the queen had been in the lead up to her own coronation, and that a royal wedding – being an event of equal, if not higher importance – was bound to upset the young woman’s already fragile constitution.
It became an exhausting endeavor to placate the queen as the date drew nearer, and she took to her old, bad habits in her nervous spells, pacing her room for hours, icing over the walls, and casting snowdrifts over her bed. In trying to explain her behavior to him, she relied on the princess’s excuse of the council putting so much pressure on her over the wedding preparations, disregarding any other theories he might pose.
To his surprise, however, her erratic mood swings and accompanying loss of control came to an abrupt end the week before their wedding. She began to accept everything that was happening, and would happen, without protest, and the blue in her irises grew duller with each passing day.
Whether he asked her what was wrong, or what she would prefer for this or that aspect of the ceremony, or what type of music she would like to be played at the reception, she gave only cursory, short replies to him with a hazy, distracted expression. Likewise, she returned the prince’s physical gestures, whether in the form of embraces or kisses on her cheek or forehead, with the same, empty smile��or no smile at all.
The wedding followed in a similar fashion, with the queen compliant in all regards, save for the dress, which she had insisted from the beginning be of her own making. Though she looked resplendent in it, and was the envy of every young woman in attendance, she approached the altar with a countenance devoid of any feeling approximate to joy, and spoke her vows in a voice so hollow that it caused him to shudder.
When they kissed to seal their union, her lips did not tremble, nor make any movement at all.
She turned to the crowd with a smile convincing enough to make her sister weep, though it did not fool the iceman sitting next to her, who stared quizzically at the newly-married couple.
He was thus crowned king, and, taking his wife’s cold, limp hand in his own, they descended from the altar, the crowd’s cheers little more than faraway echoes.
»» —— ««
The queen trades a few words with the princess and her iceman before the latter have disappeared into the crowd again, the pair no doubt rebuffed in their invitations to join the dance that is about to start.
Her look is as hard as steel, the same as before, though the king can just make out the hint of something more behind it.
He breaks away from his guests to return to her side when the song begins, offering his hand. “My queen,” he says, bowing, “may I have this dance?”
“No, thank you,” she replies. “I’m quite tired.”
He nods. “Of course. I’ll stay here, with you.”
She does not reply as he stands next to her, and places his hand lightly on the small of her back. When he feels no physical response from the gesture, he turns his eyes back to the dance floor, finding the princess.
The younger woman is dragging the iceman onto the floor, ignoring his protests, and her partner is predictably hopeless in following the rhythm. The onlookers, including the king, chuckle at the scene, causing the commoner to blush from his neck up to his blonde hair, and finally to tear himself away from the princess and console himself by the chocolate fondue fountain.
When he glances at the queen, he is pleasantly surprised to see the faint outline of a smile on her face, though this vanishes as soon as she notices him looking at her.
“Are you enjoying the evening?” he asks anyway, smiling. “It seems like Anna is, even if at Master Bjorgman’s expense.”
His wife finally looks at him fully, unblinking, her eyes traveling from the crown atop his head, down to his hands.
“You’re wearing gloves,” she observes, ignoring his question.
He stifles a swallow. “It’s the least I could do, on such an auspicious day,” he replies, struggling to keep his smile in place. “It would look odd to have bare hands for our wedding, after all.”
Suspicion flashes across her gaze at the answer, but she says nothing, looking back at the dance floor. She watches her sister with something between longing and regret, though the emotions are so fleeting that the king cannot be sure if he saw them at all.
Unnerved, he suddenly takes her hand in his, and kisses the top of it. “You look wonderful, dearest,” he tells her, “and you have made me the happiest man in the world, today.”
He presses her hand, repeating his final vow from the ceremony. “I will always be your devoted servant, and love you until my dying day. You know that, don’t you?”
The queen’s lips part, and she pauses.
“I do. But love… isn’t always good.”
He frowns. “What are you talking about, Elsa?”
She turns back on him with a cold and inscrutable stare, withdrawing her hand from his. “You don’t remember?”
At his puzzled expression, she sighs and closes her eyes, reciting her next line with grim irony.
“And so the boy escaped, and went north, and became a King of another land. He never hurt anyone ever again.”
When her eyes reopen, they are tight, and her nose wrinkles. “It seems like the boy got everything he ever wanted,” she says with a pained smile, “but I don’t think that last part is really true.”
The king pales, and he is as silent as the grave.
“Elsa…”
Her smile becomes vacant as she places her hands in front of her, and turns her attention back to the crowd. Without hesitation, she descends the stairs to join her guests on the main floor, and matches the beat of a new song with her fingers, tapping them along the sides of her dress.
With each tap, the air grows a little colder in the room.
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Austin’s spoiler free ND Rankings from best to worst (with reasons why)
PLS NOTE: There is only one game I actually HATE. Every other game there is something I like about it except my last spot. Keep that in mind.
1) Ghost of Thornton Hall. This game is an absolute masterpiece. It is the best game HeR has made since CUR. It is also the best game I think HeR has put out in recent years. These are characters that you actually FEEL for. Not one of them are unlikeable. The closest you get is Clara, who you wind up feeling for in the end. An absolute work of art (it is also the first game I pre-ordered because from the very beginning I was invested.)
2) Labyrinth Of Lies- Hear me out. I absolutely adore this game. It has Greece, Theatre, and Xenia Doukas. Three things I cannot live without. While I absolutely agree that the whole idea of a rotating set system underground is impossible, this game was a dream come true for theatre kids everywhere. I will never not play this game without listening to Mamma Mia. It’s probably my biggest unpopular opinion of this fandom.
3) Last Train To Blue Moon Canyon- This game breaks my literal heart. Camille and Jake Hurly has always been up there in my eyes with Frances and Dirk from SHA. I have always loved the environment of this game. (This is probably due to the fact that Murder On The Orient Express is one of my favorite books) and this is one game that I always go to when I’m feeling nostalgic. It is also the first time you see the Hardy Boys so that’s a sign.
4) Sea Of Darkness- This is the game that I think has the best graphics HeR has offered. We have a lesbian character which was highly requested as well as a cute dog. The aurora borealis is never not STUNNING to look at and it one of the best games that actually feels like Nancy is “there”. The mystery is also one that I think can be misleading. I always assumed it was Ghost Ship TM but boy was I wrong. Elisabet also has my whole heart.
5) The Final Scene- OH MY GOD THIS IS AN ABSOLUTE SASS FILLED GAME AND I HAVE ALWAYS BEEN HERE FOR IT. I constantly say “I propose you back off!” at every opportune moment. It is the best dialogue Nancy has ever had. Again, it is a Stan for theatre kids everywhere. I have also always thought magic was the coolest thing even though I can't perform it. Solid dialogue and very easy puzzles, which is always a relief.
6) Curse Of Blackmoor Manor- This is not in my top 3 as it is going to be for almost everyone else due to the fact that I think it is a very difficult game. I first played it when I was 12, and it was the only game I could not beat up until that shit show SAW which we will discuss later. Now that I've grown older and wiser, I have really grown to appreciate it more and it is a CLASSIC when looking into this game series. I appreciate the nostalgia value it has and the soundtrack and the characters. Ethel Bossiny FTW. This game also has the best soundtrack of the series.
7) Treasure In The Royal Tower- Another one that will be in everyone else’s top 3 but is not for me, but is still solid. I ADORE this game’s setting and character development- but for me, I never really felt pulled in to the mystery. My time was spent fan grilling over Hotchkiss that the person who broke into the library was on my back burner. HOWEVER, it is still very nostalgic and iconic it is in my top 10.
8) The Phantom Of Venice- Simply put, this game is why I want to go to Italy. I was ALMOST THERE but corona. I absolutely adore the way this game transports you. They included everything they could, even real photos of Venice, which I appreciated as someone who wants to go.
9) Alibi in Ashes- You have to understand how important it is that we finally got a game in River Heights. It was always on the TOP of my list in terms of places I wanted Nancy to go. It did not disappoint. The fact that everyone turned on Nancy so quickly always sends chills down my spine.
10) Legend Of The Crystal Skull- ALRIGHT so another unpopular opinion. This was the FIRST game I every played AND BEAT and so it will always be in my top 10. This is the game that truly got me invested in the series. If it wasn't this, it would not be this high, but it is my number 10 for that reason. Other things I like: Henry, Renee, the setting and music.
11) Warnings At Waverly Academy- WAC’s setting is so amazing. I don’t really know how to explain it, but I have always been intrigued about boarding school mysteries (@ house of Anubis )and this is a solid one. It contains probably one of the best plot twists of the series that blew my mind the first time I played it, and Mel Corbalis is god’s gift to humanity.
12) The Silent Spy- A real tearjerker if there ever was one. This games takes a storyline that has been changed many times (Nancy’s mom) and turns it into something so extremely badass you really wish she wasn't actually dead. Zoe Wolfe is the absolute reason I exist. You also play a cookies mini game which is just about as addicting as crack.
13) Secret Of The Old Clock- Okay, so I feel like this game gets a lot of hate because everyone talks about how weird the time travel is, but this has always been a game I liked. I think personally, that it is the easiest game in the series (if you exclude the dress, which I have never had a problem with) and it is based on the absolute most classic ND story of all. I also highly enjoy this period of time, even though the characters in this game aren't great. Emily Crandall is probably the best one, and even she yells at Nancy.
14) Secret Of Shadow Ranch- Okay. So I’m going to get anon h8 for this. But SHA is... not the best in my opinion. I have talked about this before, but SHA is very tedious in terms of chores and I just do not like that. I wouldn't necessarily mind the chores if they weren't repetitive, but it is the same chores over and over again. With that said, I LOVE the music, the Humber storyline, and the setting, so it is #14
15) Message In A Haunted Mansion- This is probably the only game I have ever pissed my pants over. CUR and GTH didn’t even do that. I think it is bc MHM is one of the first games I played. The hauntings in this game are so AMAZING and when you find out their explanation it totally changes things.
16) The Deadly Device- I love when ND does a Murder Mystery right. This is the time it was done right. The culprit came out of absolutely no where and I loved it. It is ranked this low for me b/c I think some of the puzzles are tedious and hard. Ryan Kilpatrick is an amazing human being and so is Ellie thx.
17) Tomb Of The Lost Queen- Another game which I think gets a lot of undeserved hate. Mummies are badass, especially when the mummy sighting is real and unexplained. Dylan Carter is probably the biggest example of stud you will ever see, and Jamila El-Dine is a bad b****. I am ranking it this high for Jamila alone.
18) Danger On Deception Island- I absolutely adore this game’s music. But I hate Holt Scotto with all the fire within me. He is why this game is not in my top 10. I love everything about this game except Holt F****** Scotto. I want to put it in my top 10. I do. But Holt Scotto sucks.
19) The Haunted Carousel- This was a game which I vividly remember being bullied in daycare over. I took it to daycare one day and we kept getting our eyeballs poked out by the lathe. Daycare memories suck. Also it is the first game by which we get a literal sexual strut by the culprit at the end, which I have never liked. Pluses of the game? An amusement park. Miles.
20) Ransom Of The Seven Ships- SAY IT OUT LOUD. RAN. IS. NOT. THE. WORST. GAME. The puzzles, although always thrown at your face, are actually sort of fun. I would rank it higher but there is way too few characters in a way that makes the culprit very obvious, but it also isn't at the same time.
21) The Captive Curse- This is a game by which I thought had so much potential but I think the monster looks very dumb? It’s like? The inbred cousin of Frankenstien’s monster? However, I LOVE THE SONG “girls”from this game and have a huge love for Lukas, so it isn't bottom 10
22) Stay Tuned For Danger- This game is one that would be so much higher up for me, If you didn’t have to look at EVERYTHING to complete it. If you miss ONE LETTER in a magazine, you cannot beat this game. I get stuck on it every time I play it, but the mystery is amazing and who doesn’t love a good old NYC game.
23) The White Wolf Of Icicle Creek- To begin my bottom 10, ICE. I LOVE ICE as a concept. But, Fox and Geese holds me back from a replay. I absolutely love the idea of a lodge that people are in danger at. The snow atmosphere is amazing and so is Isis. But, Fox and Geese is an abomination.
24) Ghost Dogs Of Moon Lake- I really, really want to like this game because I am a dog lover. However, the insect challenge is such a CHORE to do. I cannot stand to do it. It is so difficult to do in my humble opinion, it requires such a retrace of step that makes it insufferable. Pros? cute doges.
25) The Haunting Of Castle Malloy- YOU ARE LITERALLY THIS LOW BC OF THE END PUZZLE AND YOU KNOW IT. However, not the worst for me because I love Ireland and this game has some of the best music in the series. It is on my top 5 for soundtracks. I love everything about this game except THE END. Fiona is so misunderstood.
26) Secret of The Scarlet Hand- I really like this game, I do, but I am very not interested in the constant phone calls you do in this game. You are on the phone for about 75% of this game and I really didn’t like that about it. LOVE the history behind it though.
27) SCK/SCK2- I really do not like SCK as a concept. School murders are a topic which really turns me off. Not to mention, there is barely a difference between these games but a single character and a puzzle.
28) Danger By Design- Paris? Yes. Fashion? Heck yeah. But I never have really enjoyed DAN because the mystery can literally be solved by pulling a Phantom of The Opera and dropkicking the mask off. I also HATE the cookie puzzle. The edges never curl upwards for me.
29) Creature Of Kapu Cave- Ugh. Shells and fishing make this game untouchable for me. I LOVE HAWAII CONCEPT and supernatural volcanoes and phenomena. But I cannot stand the big island buck system or the man himself. Sorry, big island homies. Also be proud of me because it took me this long to bring up STUPID FRASS
30) Midnight In Salem- I was so excited for this game. We all were. I really enjoy MID’s mystery and as a concept. But, the new format is not good and neither is the constant talking and only being able to complete the game in one order. I was so excited for nothing (which is my own fault)
31) Shadow At The Waters Edge- GOD. The massive nonogram and sudoko have NO place in this game. I refuse to play it because of these 2 puzzles. However, I do love the scares in it. They are top notch scares. I have beat this game in it’s entirety maybe once?
32) Trail Of The Twister- Internship simulator forever. Chores galore, what a bore. Uncompelling mystery and hateful characters. The only thing I liked was the country music, a sentence you don’t hear often.
33) The Shattered Medallion- I literally played the beta of this game and it was ions better than the actual released product. That’s reason enough.
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Rings: Part 2
Warnings: swearing, a little something-something at the end
Word count: 2280
The walls thumped with the beat, almost too loud for my sensitive ears. Had I not had nearly four vodka sodas and three tequila shots in me, I would probably have a raging headache.
As such, I was feeling pretty good. The Abattoir was busy for a weeknight, humans mingling amongst the vampires, unaware of what was to befall them in… two minutes and twenty-three seconds.
Hands were on my hips, sliding up my ribs and then down to the tops of my thighs. I smiled, leaning back into whoever was behind me.
“I heard we have a mutual friend,” he said lowly behind me.
I spun to face him, his hands still on me. “Do I know you?”
He was tall, dark and handsome, brilliant white teeth gleaming at me.
It took me a moment. “Marcellus?” I gasped. “My God, what a man you’ve become.”
He smiled down at me before leaning back into my ear. “You’re far more beautiful than I remembered from my childhood as well.” He glanced around us at the writhing bodies. “Please don’t tell me I’m about to have a thirsty Original Hybrid ruining my night.”
I shook my head. “They’re at their hotel.” Elijah had told me that much at least; don’t tell Marcel anything.
He smiled. “Lucky me, I get you all to myself.”
He leaned down, pressing his lips to my neck, hips connecting.
“Have you chosen who you’re having tonight?”
I shook my head again, humming. “Not yet.”
“Well, you don’t have long.”
He spun me around, pulling me back into his chest. “I seem to recall you have a penchant for tall, lean men. Preferably dressed in a suit and spouting promises he won’t keep.”
Pulling away, I said, “If that’s what you want, Marcel, then leave now. I have no hold over Elijah.”
He smiled patronizingly down at me. “Oh, somehow I don’t think that’s possible.”
BONG.
The music seemed to amp up, the beat pounding harder against the stone walls of the club.
BONG.
Murmurs of ‘don’t scream’ mixed with the beat, the humans standing still and pliant as fangs tore into soft flesh. Reaching behind him, Marcel pulled forward a girl, barely into her twenties. He offered her to me, neck first.
I stepped forward, watching him as I bit in. After a moment, he followed suit, biting her other side. Her blood was young and thick, the alcohol in it giving a warm aftertaste. After a moment, I pulled back, biting into my wrist and offering it to the dozy girl.
Marcel grinned at me, mouth ringed with blood. “Not a bad setup, hey?”
The music returned to its normal beat, and everyone resumed, some people swaying a little more than they had been. Marcel grabbed my wrist, pulling me through the crowd and over to a small alcove guarded by two vampires. They let him through without question but watched me suspiciously as I passed.
“Where are we going?” I asked, still following him.
He smiled back at me but didn’t answer. We made our way up the stairs, winding up and around. The door at the top opened out into the night air. We walked out onto the roof, the club still thumping below us.
“This is what I wanted to show you,” Marcel said, gesturing to the city lights glimmering around us.
“Yes, yes, it’s pretty. I’ve seen better and I’ve seen worse.”
Marcel shook his head. “No. That’s no it. Listen to it.”
I turned my ears outwards. Usual city sounds, a faint siren wailing in the distance, the sound of breaking glass and, of course, the sounds of parties raging across the Quarter.
“It’s usual noise, Marcel. What is your point?”
“Life! People are out there, living their lives, drinking too much, hooking up with people they shouldn’t. And amongst them? The supernatural remain undetected. Witches and vampires living side by side. The city is peaceful and safe for all.”
I rolled my eyes. “Don’t pretend that you did this gently and with full cooperation. Those witches don’t practice magic because you threatened them, not because you presented them with a unicorn and rainbows.”
Marcel smiled. “And is that how you think Klaus and Elijah would’ve run the city? With unicorns and rainbows?”
The fresh air was washing away the buzz from the alcohol and feed, and my patience was disappearing with it. “Again, I ask what do you want?”
“I want the Mikaelson’s gone. I want them out of my city and far, far away from here.”
“You know Klaus and Elijah won’t leave, not now that they’re home.”
Marcel gestured to the area around us. “I’ve got to try.”
“Well,” I said, moving towards the edge of the roof I knew dropped down into an alley. “I’m leaving, so that’s one less Original you have to deal with.”
Marcel frowned. “What- trouble in paradise?”
I shrugged. “Something like that.”
Marcel gave me that warm smile again. “Does it have something to do with the fact that you no longer have a daylight ring?”
I glanced down at my hand, having forgotten about my missing ring. Frowning, I studied my bare hand, as if it was some alien that’d attached to me without my knowledge. I hadn’t taken that ring off in a thousand years, except to have it spelled with a charm so it wouldn’t break.
“Yes, I… lost it recently.”
Marcel reached into his pocket, drawing out a ring. The lapis lazuli glinted in the lights of the club below. “There’s a witch about 8 miles out of town, she can do your ring for you. If you leave now, you can make it before dawn.”
“Thank you.”
Marcel smiled at me, then I stepped backward, falling through the air and landing on my feet in the alley below.
I took off into the night without looking, heading straight to my car and taking off into the night.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Elijah joined Marcel on the roof, Y/N’s ring burning a hole in his pocket. He watched as she strode from the alley, head high.
“You really fucked her over, didn’t you?”
Elijah didn’t answer.
“She’s changed, Elijah.”
“Is there a point for my presence, Marcellus? I grow tired of your games.”
Marcel turned to Elijah, trying not to remember how much he had once loved and looked up to the man. “You heard my offer. I want you all gone from New Orleans. Go take over another city or start a new one. I don’t care, just not here.”
Elijah had to try very hard not to roll his eyes. “You know Niklaus won’t leave, and I certainly cannot let my brother run rampant through the city.”
Marcel gestured to where Y/N had disappeared to. “Not even for her?”
Elijah didn’t answer, and when Marcel turned around, he was alone on the roof.
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
The Audi came out of nowhere.
I slammed on the brakes, the car skidding across the bitumen. Elijah stepped out of the Audi, watching as I halted barely an inch from his back bumper. The steering wheel had cracked under the pressure of my grip.
“The car is a rental!” I growled.
He waved a hand dismissively. “We can easily afford to replace it.”
“What do you want, Elijah?”
He stepped forward, reaching for me. “You must return to home with me. The witches are planning something, and we need as much strength as we can-”
My hand shot up so fast that Elijah didn’t have time to duck. His head snapped to the side, the skin splitting over his cheek before rehealing, only a small line of blood remaining. Eyes turning, snarled at me.
“Don’t you fucking come near me,” I scowled back. “You come out here, asking me to return less than an hour after I found out you hadn’t told your latest plaything you were married. Tell me, did any of the others know? Or am I your dirty little secret?”
He reached for me, face stony.
“No. Don’t touch me.” I pulled out of his reach, and his hand dropped.
“I kept you hidden for your protection. From Mikael, whom I hope you remember, was intent on killing us all.”
I rolled my eyes. “So instead you banished me, leaving me to fend for myself? Thank you, Elijah, I appreciate that.”
I turned back to the car, but his hand wrapped securely around my wrist. “Do not take that tone with me, Y/N.”
I snarled up at him, turning around to face him and stepping into his face. “Take your hand off me.”
“You came when Niklaus called, despite everything that transpired between us. After 500 years, why now?”
I bit my lip, unable to maintain eye contact with him anymore. “I saw you. I was in Mystic Falls when Mikael was there. I saw Klaus break the werewolf curse and I saw you. And seeing you there after all this time, it reminded me of all we had.”
His eyes softened slightly, his grip loosening. “I never knew you were there.”
“I know. I didn’t want you to. I wanted you to call me, to ask me to come back.” I saw a flicker of something behind his eyes… shame, maybe?
Elijah watched me for a moment, then released my arm. Reaching into his pocket, he withdrew my ring. He offered it to me, palm up. I shook my head, pushing the offering away.
“Keep it,” I said. “Give it to Hayley. Or whoever you’d like. I don’t need it. There’s a witch who can make me a new one.”
“It’s your wedding ring, Y/N. I can’t give it to someone else- if there was anyone else.” He gave me a soft smile, but I couldn’t return it.
A hole had opened up in my chest, and the knowledge that he was lying straight to my face was only making it bigger. I stepped back, pulling away. “It’s ok, Elijah. You don’t have to pretend. I’ve kept up over the years. I know about Celeste and Katrina.”
His face fell. “I give you my word, they meant nothing to me.”
“Don’t do that, Elijah. I’ve known you since we were children. You can’t lie to me.” I turned my back on him, moving towards my car. “I’m going to find somewhere far away from you, Elijah. You can live here, raise the baby with Hayley, have a second chance at fatherhood. I don’t care. I just can’t be near you anymore.”
I got as far as opening the door before a hand grasped my shoulder, spinning me around. “I made a mistake when I sent you away. I’m trying to fix it. Please.”
He looked so sincere, so lost. So… human. I reached up, a thumb stroking across his cheek. It was a familiar feeling, yet it felt so new after nearly 5 centuries.
“Our son had your cheekbone,” I said quietly.
The corners of Elijah’s lips curled. “And your eyes.”
“What happened, Elijah? We used to love each other so much, and now we can barely spend a night under the same roof.”
One of his hands came up to rest on my neck, thumb on my jaw. “We lived.”
I closed my eyes for a moment, just enjoying his touch. “Yes, well, maybe we’re not meant to be. Your father always said I wasn’t good enough. Maybe he was right.”
“He wasn’t,” Elijah replied immediately. “You are meant to be mine. Sending you away was a mistake, and I will spend the rest of my life attempting to earn your forgiveness.”
I shook my head. “It wasn’t just that; that I understand. It was the women as well. I kept tabs on you; I knew every time you found something new to play with. And I knew each time they died just how much you hurt.”
He stayed silent, thumb still tracing my jaw.
“I need to know,” I said slowly. “If they meant something more to you, or if they were just distractions from living?”
Elijah leaned forward, pressing a kiss to my forehead. “They were nothing to compared to you. I didn’t love them, not as I love you.”
I sucked in a breath, closing my eyes. “If you don’t mean, please don’t say it.”
Elijah pressed his thumb into my jaw, tilting my head up to look at him. Ever so slowly, he leaned forward, pressing his lips to mine. I stretched up, pressing my lips more firmly to his. One of us made a noise, and Elijah scooped me up, hands secure beneath my thighs. The car was cold against my back, but I didn’t care. Elijah was back in my arms, and there was nothing tearing me from him now.
He carefully leaned back, pinning me against the car with his hips. I groaned and he grinned down at me.
“ ‘Lijah,” I complained.
He held his closed fist between us, opening his fingers slowly. My ring was in his palm, again, an offering. I looked at it for a moment, before lifting my left hand. Elijah’s lips curled and he carefully slid the ring onto my finger, the familiar weight settling above my knuckle. He pressed a kiss to it, then to my lips.
“We should go back,” he murmured against my lips. “Before my brother burns down the whole of the city.”
I nodded, smiling. “Ok,” I whispered back. “Together?”
Elijah smiled down at me. “Together. Always and forever.”
.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.
Tags: @daphnen21 @poemfreak306
#elijah mikaelson smut#Elijah Mikaelson fanfiction#elijah mikaelson#the vampire diaries#the originals#the originals fanficition
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Momma’s Boy
Part Three to this:
It only took six months after Gemma was born for Went and Maggie to move closer. They’d only lived an hour away before, but even that was too far. So now, they lived as close as Richie would let them, which was about fifteen minutes. Eddie was now thankful for this as well, as the ages of their children, seven, four, and now a year, didn’t really work out with long distances.
It’s Labor Day and they’re late. Eddie hates being late. Even if it’s just to his In-Laws. “Gemma, baby, let’s GO!” He shouts up the stairs. He’d been in charge of the packing and food. So he had diaper bags, the games and toys, and the cooler packed and in the car, and no one was anywhere to be found. He’d then allowed himself time to dawdle, eat a popsicle as he wandered around the house grabbing himself a book to bring and Richie the tanning oil. But after that, there were still no kids.
Eddie checks his email on his phone before storming upstairs. It’s not that big of a deal, but the closer to dinner time it got, the less time there was for photos, and today was Ian’s official birthday, it was important to get them done before the friend party tomorrow. Richie always joked with Eddie and asked if there was ever one birthday that wasn’t important. “No, they’re all important Richard! This is how we make memories!” He says, scrunching his nose. Richie had laughed at how seriously his husband was taking it, “Okay babycakes.”
So every year they outdid it for everyone’s birthday. It made for a long year, but Eddie loved it, Richie did too, deep down, he just worried for his husband’s wellbeing. Ian is in the pack n play in the toy room, babbling away, which means it’s his older two, Gemma and Liam holding them up. There’s music, still the Frozen 2 soundtrack of course, coming from the bathroom. Eddie doesn’t know where to start with his bitching.
Liam is half dressed, standing on the toilet lid singing into a hair brush. Richie is dancing and Gemma only has one french braid done, but at least she’s dressed, though not in her matching outfit. Richie freezes when he sees Eddie, and Gemma bounces over to him,
“Papa! Sing with me!”
Eddie hoists her up,
“Baby, we can’t sing, we have to go see Grammy and Grampa.”
Gemma wriggles her way down and Eddie nudges her towards the sink so he can finish braiding her hair. He watches Richie in the mirror as he sheepishly grabs Liam and brings him to his bedroom to get him dressed.
It’s been hard since Eddie went back to work. Their routine was disrupted and Richie was back to watching the kids full time. He knew they’d been struggling to listen to the rules as much, Gemma had been pitting them against each other, and Richie had been feeling disheartened. The last thing Eddie wanted to do was make Richie feel bad, and he feared he’d done just that.
Eddie ties purple bows on the bottom of the braid, and makes sure to grab a third piece of ribbon for Liam. He’s been very into hair accessories lately. Gemma refuses to change, so she’s wearing an orange dress while the rest of them are wearing purple and gray and Eddie wants to have a meltdown, because they need pictures for their September page in their annual Calendar Christmas Present. He’s sure the food’s been sitting in the car too long, and Went will have given up and started cooking already, and damn he cannot wait to crack open a Mike’s Hard Lemonade and sit in the pool. He’s got pit stains on his shirt and Richie forgot to brush his teeth, and Ian’s now screaming because he’d fallen asleep in the pack n play and didn’t want to be in the carseat and Liam’s untied his hair bow for the third time and is sniffling, and Eddie’s hungry and tired and-
Maggie greets them at the car. She’s wearing a huge white sunhat and oversized sunglasses and she’s wearing a leopard print swimsuit coverup. She tries to open the door before Richie can even unlock the doors, “Jesus Christ,” he mutters. Eddie laughs, unlocking the doors and Maggie’s poking her head in the door,
“Hi my angels! Oh Ian, happy birthday my sweet boy! Gem, my princess! Liam, what’s wrong honey?”
Richie shoots Eddie a look and Eddie laughs. He laughs because he knows his husband hates it. He’s grown up with his mother his whole life, but Eddie never had that. Never had someone who loved him in the right way. He’d had the micromanaging part of having a mother, but not the nourishing part. Maggie and Went made him feel loved, and cared for, and yes it was too much, especially Maggie, but it was nice at the same time. They were family.
Eddie grabs the bags and leaves the heavy cooler for Richie. He heads through the gate to the backyard. The Tozier’s backyard is huge with a swing set, an underground pool, a hot tub and a fire pit. Eddie had never dreamed of it. Sure, with his own kids he saw all of the hazards, and sometimes it led to panic attacks, the thought of something happening to them. But then Richie reminds him to be grateful they’re not sick, and that he can take care of them but they don’t need him to if nothing is wrong. It’s all very confusing and scary but Richie is there and his therapist, Meredith is there and Walt and Maggie are there. Which doesn’t explain why his children are naked in the pool!
“We brought swimsuits!” He starts running toward them.
“No running by the pool son!” Walt shouts.
Eddie lets out a squeak, Maggie’s already undressing Ian,
“I have swim diapers!” He jogs on the grass around the pool, to her.
His son is safely in a swim diaper, when Richie finally strolls in, setting down the cooler. Eddie jumps up,
“Richie,” he whines, “they don’t have their suits on!”
Richie looks at the kids and laughs, before seeing Eddie’s distress. He gives him a hug. He’s so warm from the sun. Eddie relaxes and Richie kisses his head,
“Just relax. Mom’s got them, baby.”
Eddie always starts out up tight, mainly because he’s at work when Richie sets up the playdates, and brings them to the birthday parties, so he’s not used to other people watching his kids. But they’re safe, there’s a separator in the pool that divides the shallow from the deep and Liam has his life jacket on, and Gemma has water wings. Richie yanks his shirt over his head and leans into the cooler to grab out a hard lemonade. He pulls his keys out of his pocket and opens it with his bottle opener before handing in to Eddie. Eddie stares at the freckles and hair on his back as he bends over to grab himself a beer. He cracks his open before walking over to his mom, where she’s sitting on the stairs of the pool, playing with Ian. He gives her a side hug and a kiss on the head, before he goes to greet his pops. Eddie hears them greeting each other in accents.
Eddie all but downs the drink in his hand, and by the time Richie is walking over, he’s holding another one out to be opened. Richie sits next to him, body pressing against his. He’s sweaty. It’s gross.
“How are you doing my love?”
Eddie nods, and takes a sip of his drink,
“Everyone’s having fun.”
Richie nods, maneuvering Eddie so he can lay down on the sun chair, even though if Eddie stays in this position, he’ll be blocking Richie’s sun but he doesn’t complain.
“Except you, Eds. Relax. We’re supposed to be celebrating,” he says softly.
Eddie’s chest tightens. It’s times like this especially that he wishes he could calm down. It’s embarrassing. Eddie wouldn’t let Richie tell his parents what Eddie’s mom did to him, for fear of judgement, so it always feels kind of awkward. To Eddie at least. Why he preens a little too hard for Maggie’s approval. Which is why he appreciated keeping himself cooped up with his kids and no one else around. No one to perform for. Because Richie knows he’s a good dad.
Eddie gets a little tipsy, assuming by relax, Richie meant, with him, so imagine his shock when his husband slips out from underneath him on the sunchair and cannonballs into the pool. Walt is lighting a fire in the pit and Maggie goes into the house to fix the food he assumes. He should go help her. But then Gemma squeals and Richie dunks her underwater. It’s entertaining.
Eddie met Richie at one of his shows, the jokes were a bit more crass than he’d been willing to let the group of coworkers he’d gone out with, know he thought was funny. But when he saw the comedian at the bar,. Alone, he’d gone up to see him. Richie’s everything made up for the fact he was a terrible boyfriend. Forgetting anniversaries and dates, crude pick up lines. He traveled so much that Eddie started to feel like a constant one night stand. Richie’d be around for the sex but suddenly gone in the morning. He loved Richie, but it sucked. Eventually he’d given Richie an ultimatum. Although he was two years older than Richie, he was 29, and that was old enough that he needed to get his shit together. He knew Richie loved what he did and he made good money, and Eddie wasn’t worth all that. But Richie thought he was. That was the night Eddie told Richie about his mom. That was the night Richie proposed.
They get married in an elaborate ceremony in Paris, with their closest friends and Richie’s parents. They’d paid for everything. Eddie asks, one night after calling Richie ‘daddy’ for the first time, if he’d ever want to have kids. They go to a surrogacy clinic the following week. Raising Gemma was one of the hardest things they’d ever had to do, but after she made it out of her terrible twos, they were contacting Sierra, their surrogate again.
Eddie really loved Richie. He’d gotten so lucky. He’d never thought that someone who publicly talked about getting his asshole waxed would be a stay at home dad. But Richie had something that Eddie could never explain. Most times, if he raised his eyebrows, their kids would stop the undesirable behavior. He never got tired of kid music or waking up with the baby or having to relearn basic math with Gemma. He was the most beautiful person he knew. And that's saying a lot from someone who still made fart noises. (And not just when the kids were around.)
Eventually Eddie realizes he’s a bit too tipsy and sits up, tugging his shirt on. He pads up to the porch and lets himself in the screen door. The gust of air hits him in the face and he shivers. Maggie is singing to herself and setting up the food on the table. Eddie’s head is spinning.
“How can I help?” he asks, hoping he’s not slurring.
She turns around and laughs,
“Sweetie, you look sloshed. Sit, sit, I’ll get you some food.” She pulls out the barstool and he sits down. She makes him two ham and cheese sliders and puts them on a paper plate, passing it to him. “Soak up the alcohol.”
She busies around, and he can see she’s making the kid’s plates.
“Eddie, what’s wrong? It’s Ian’s birthday honey, you’re surrounded by family. You’re not having a good time?”
Eddie wolfs down the food and takes the opportunity to walk around the table and make himself a real plate. Richie’ll kill him, he usually lets him eat first, but Eddie deserves it. He scoops himself some potato salad,
“I never had any gatherings as a child. It was just my mom and I, so I think I get social anxiety or something.”
Maggie clucks her tongue,
“Well I don’t want you to ever feel that way around us. Where’s your mother now?”
“We don’t talk.”
Maggie hums.
“When I was younger she, she made me think I was sick.”
Maggie nods. Eddie shoves a bite of food in his mouth.
“I’m sorry that happened honey, I can’t imagine. But I’m so glad God blessed me with another son. You are a son to me Eddie. Went too. And you’re welcome anytime, even just you if you want to talk or anything.”
“Thanks Maggie, I appreciate it.”
“Of course honey. I’ll send Richie in. I can feed the kids.”
“You don’t have to.”
“Let me take care of my grandbabies! You relax.”
There’s that word again, relax.
Richie comes in and gives him a concerned look,
“You’re looking about 10% less hot than usual, so what’s wrong?”
“Can I have a kiss?”
Richie leans over immediately and pecks Eddie,
“Talk.”
“I told your mom about my mom.”
Richie lets out a low whistle,
“Damn babe. You wanna talk about it?”
Eddie shakes his head and smiles,
“No. I think I’m going to be more comfortable here from now on.”
Richie walks around the bar with his full plate,
“Want to go outside with the kids?”
Eddie shakes his head,
“No. Sit by me, I think they’ve got it.”
Richie grins,
“Sweet.”
Eddie’s right, he does get more comfortable with Maggie, and it’s not but a couple months later, when they’re supposed to go to the Tozier’s for dinner and Eddie finally decides to give in and call Maggie.
“Hey Maggie, yeah, we’re not going to be able to come.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Oh yes, Liam’s just not feeling good and Gemma’s in a time out and I haven’t even started the sides yet, so,”
“Oh that’s okay. How about we just come over? The ham is done and the mac and cheese, and I made that coconut cake for you. We don’t mind the kids when things come up. We still wanna see you guys. Eddie, come on, it’s your birthday hun.”
Eddie nods,
“Yeah, okay. That’s fine.”
“We’ll see you soon.”
It’s silent for a second,
“Thanks Mom.”
He can hear the smile over the phone,
“Of course honey, I love you.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
Part One Part Two
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Ayesha Liveblogs Tiger King
“I think it would be fair to say that Carole is the Mother Teresa of cats” now there’s a sentence I never thought I’d hear
“I’d never been a person who had friends” statements like this always perplex me because surely there had to be ONE other person in however long you quantify childhood that you identified with. Like not one whole ass person? You’re not the only person who loves cats Carole
The juxtaposition between Carole Baskin’s “Animal Print for Animal Rights” and Joe Exotic’s “Tiger King underwear is our bestseller” is poetic cinema
Okay this isn’t a reflection of my opinions on this man but I Saw a Tiger is a good country ballad there I said it
“When I first met Joe, I was like a month out of high school” well that’s not good
[Joe Exotic voice] Some people have tigers to cope
Doc Antle has only been on screen for 30 seconds and already he has made himself memorable by directing the film crew
Is Bhagavan Antle Indian in some way or did he just have a really intense Eat Pray Love journey with his guru
Also is he really a doctor orrrrrrrrr
“I am out there in the forefront so known of being this guy that is in love with big cats and has them love him back” please don’t tell me this guy does anything weird to his animals
“People only care about saving what affects them”
“You can’t put a price on holding a baby tiger” but you did and apparently it’s $625
The fact that multiple tigers have had albinism is probably a sign of major inbreeding practices at these zoos
You know, even if I ate meat*, there is no way I would be able to handle any kind of early prep stage of it bc seeing these cow carcasses is A Lot
*If u r reading this I don’t care if u eat meat leave me alone
“Animals just wasn’t enough, okay? So then I started adding magic” well that took an unexpected turn
I don’t know if it’s for real fair to criticize every person who has brought a big cat out in a public venue/talk show because I know at least like Dave Sal/moni is always going “THESE ANIMALS MAKE TERRIBLE PETS”
As a sidenote from what I understand this Saff person keeps being deadnamed/misgendered throughout this documentary and I do not appreciate it
“I grew up a professional cowboy in a family of professional cowboys” every sentence on this show is a journey
WHO is letting their ONE-YEAR-OLD lay on top of a tiger cub I know you’re at a zoo but BRUH
“It’s going to be a small Waco” to say this ON THE NEWS
This 2 minute stretch of episode is all the PSA anyone ever needs to never own a gun
Well I think we can all agree that PETA is a fucking mess
God this is like battle of the people who are terrible at doing anything good for animals
“What do you carry that gun for?” “People” AHHHHHHHHHHH?!?!!!!?!?
“I sleep with an AK-47 under my mattress, loaded, ready to roll” WILL SOMEONE HELP THE U.S. OF A
I was warned about this show and yet I was still not prepared for the level of UNHINGED it would be
How in the FUCK does a place like this not have an on-site medic
“Why don’t you come back on another day” he said, after telling the public an employee had his arm taken off
“I am never gonna financially recover from this” SURE JOE THIS IS ABOUT YOU
To go back to work a WEEK after getting your arm amputated... BRUH
“Any law that you think’s unfair or unjustice, it is your obligation, it is your responsibility to stand up against that bullshit law” well Thomas Jefferson was a slaveowner so clearly the injustice thing was relative for him
Traditionally don’t drug addictions fuel people choosing extreme paths with their life rather than the other way around?
JKHGKJHGKJH this whole exchange:
Interviewer: What kind of doctor is he?
Maria: Mystical science.
Interviewer: Mystical science?
Maria, nodding: Yeah.
“How many wives does Doc Antle have?” I didn’t expect this but somehow it tracks
I’m gonna bet none of these people with subcontinental names have a single bit of South Asian heritage like okay “Moksha” and “Rajnee” did Bhagavan name you
On a more serious note: It’s really fucked up that these men keep meeting literal teenagers, making them their employees, and then also get into relationships with them. I cannot emphasize this strongly enough THIS IS NOT GOOD OR HEALTHY
It’s pretty weird that Doc Antle keeps emphasizing so frequently that one of his partners is Italian
“I’m gonna go be a yoga animal trainer” ah, white people bullshit
“Goodbye. Don’t fall in love with your boss.” Good advice, Dad
I was not expecting all this subcontinental imagery to get under my skin this badly but what’s your problem dude can’t u be normal for like a second
“You’re this garbage person, but if you listen to me, I’ll make you great” again this tracks but gross
Again, on a more serious note: if a partner ever talks to you this way please call a domestic abuse hotline
Not that India is at all in a good place right now but I personally ban Doc Antle from ever entering India. Banned. Forever. I will not be accepting constructive criticism at this time
“I didn’t really know any better” is a really good way of summarizing what all of these younger partners have been through
Wow Carole is really explaining this abuse issue succinctly
Antle’s indignation at being implied to be a cult leader despite the fact he is most definitely a cult leader
Joe’s story in his documentary is constantly “is this going to be a humanizing moment PSYCH it’s still terrible”
HOW IS THIS LEGAL PAY YOUR WORKERS A LIVING WAGE
Why is this husband-killing thing JUST A FOOTNOTE AT THE END OF THIS EPISODE OH MY GOD
We have deviated so far from the tiger thing oh my god
Why is the only man in this documentary who is faithful to his spouse the man that smuggled drugs inside of snakes
Every time I learn a new thing about a person in this documentary I have to reorient myself
This whole episode has been about this murder and I’m concerned that its title, “The Secret,” hasn’t even been revealed yet
GOD I take back what I said about I Saw Tiger, the concept of this song/music video for Here Kitty Kitty is so disturbing that this man deserves no credit whatsoever as a musician
CAROLE WHY ARE YOU GIGGLING ABOUT THE MEAT GRINDER IT’S NOT FUNNY
Well I don’t have much to say about this episode other than yikes
I guess if you’re really out to spite someone stealing their brand and posting exactly the opposite of everything they stand for is an effective if weird and petty way to do it
Do you think the whole throne footage moment was a “Frankenstein realizing what he has wrought” kind of thing for Kirkham
This is really like watching a sports game of two teams you can’t stand except the sport is murder and other miscellaneous crime
If we’re all being real with ourselves the documentary filmmakers themselves MUST have had some issues going on to be able to walk into this situation and not do anything about it
This series really seems to present a compelling case for why every major figure in this documentary has potentially committed at least one terrible crime
Ah there’s the judgment from the woman in Florida I guess it’s two crimes with one stone
God these poor animals they do not deserve anything happening to them
While obviously people are enticed by the prospect of someone they’re into having an animal JUST GET AN ALREADY DOMESTICATED ANIMAL LIKE DOMESTICATED CATS AND DOGS EXIST OH MY GOD DO NOT USE EXOTIC PETS AS DATE BAIT
It has been so long since we heard about Travis ngl I already forgot about him
Why is every single person in this show SO OFF THE WALLS I mean I know why but also WHY
This documentary is also a treatise in the flaws of the U.S. prison system and how it sets up people up to fail or re-offend upon release
Take a shot every time a middle-aged man in this show mentions that he casually bought himself a big cat as a teen
“Joe was the entertainment director.... by title” I don’t think this was meant to be a burn but what a burn
I am almost certain I WATCHED that Last Week Tonight episode during that election and if u told me that 4-5 years later I would be rewatching that clip in a documentary about this man’s journey to being convicted for murder then I cannot say I wouldn’t be surprised but I would probably believe it
Also I have to wonder what John Oliver thinks about being part of this
[“Beyonce?” voice] Shaun Majumder?
Sidenote: Until this exact moment I thought of Shaun Majumder as Ben Mulroney even though Brian Mulroney is white as hell I guess I have faceblindness but only for Canadian talkshow personalities
I have been aware of this before now but the fact you can buy a GUN at a Walmart what in the FUCK is U.S.A. doing
Man does this campaign manager really want to take ownership of anything Joe Exotic has ever done
Ngl I was wondering why someone who had at one point clearly had a lot of money seemed to have such poor dental care access but meth certainly does explain it
I mean people can be attracted to both men and women (hello) but since Joe was fuelling their drug addictions since they were teenagers attraction is at best a null factor and at worst an added layer of terrible to this whole mess
It’s hard to even respond to this in a meaningful way because this is so fucked up. Don’t own guns.
“That was a big fucking mistake,” he said, right after someone explained that he was driving large groups of people in an enclosed space in a busy city with wild animals that could maim or kill them
Padlock penls piercing really does not seem like a first date bombshell
“We went to dinner and he never went home” well if that doesn’t set you with a sense of foreboding
TWO MONTHS AFTER WHAT IN THE HELL OH MY GOD also I hope Dillon is okay
“It wasn’t about the animals anymore” you THINK
“It was sort of funny when they started but it’s gotten really dark” how meta
Of all the reasons Joe could’ve abandoned his zoo, I really didn’t think embezzlement would be what pushed him
“He won’t tell anyone where he’s at, not even me,” said Dial, with no acknowledgement of the fact that Joe is also theoretically still married and would maybe tell his husband???
Oh Dillon spotted??? Yikes get out dude
Take a shot every time a white person who really doesn’t understand where the word “karma” comes from starts talking about karma as if it is the Law of Revenge
The fact this man brings a film crew out with him while he’s on the run evading a federal investigation..... incomprehensible
“Joe just wanted to put it in somebody’s name and continue to be the tiger queen, I mean king,” really REALLY of all the reasons to object to Joe you’re going to choose homophobia wow
Is this about an attempt to have someone murdered or does something happen to Baskin it is very unclear
This documentary has an interesting format of switching focus from crime to crime to crime
“I’ve never been as proud of being married to anyone as I am being married to you” It’s weird to compliment your husband by comparing him to all your other husbands
How is the lesson for Jeff Lowe in this “let’s build another zoo” surely at that point it’s better to just cut your losses
[Garretson voice]: You should pay me for being a bro, dude
“I’m a libertarian, so technically, fuck the Feds,” I’ve never heard an intonation that better suits a conservative millennial
I mean I don’t think it was advisable but honestly why are people surprised Joe took the stand isn’t delusions of grandeur kind of his thing
Sometimes it’s just that they’ve added in other moments to break up the awful immoral crimes with just run of the mill douchebaggery like the nanny/gym thing huh
I guess the silver lining in this is that potentially these big cat zoos will shut down but like where do these animals who have been raised in captivity go??? I don’t trust anyone in this documentary to not exploit them in some way ugh
“Not a single animal benefited from this war,” correct, Saff
“I was wrapped up in having a zoo,” not really an excuse but ok
#tw: literally everything#ayesha says things#ayesha liveblogs tiger king#long post#u ever quarantine so hard u watch an entire docuseries in a night#no but seriously it would be hard to warn for everything but proceed with caution#liveblogging
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Bladebreakers: College Edition
anyone who’s already read my fics knows exactly what i’m about, so lets get straight to business about the college headcanons im about to slap yall with
also all under the cut bc this went way too long lmfao Hilary and Kenny should follow shortly bc it got really long and im just. oops
Kai is the first to go which is like. logical considering he’s the oldest and most driven out of all of them
not to mention he had the entirety of Hiwatari Corp. about to be put into his name as soon as he reached 18 and he’s just like aw man here we go
to be honest? he’s not keen on taking over the company, never has been (excluding the time where he felt obligated to under his grandfather’s influence) and the thought of actually having too just kinda. embitters him
so he gets himself sucked into the whole Business classes to get himself the necessary qualifications – and despite being bitter, he doesn’t half-ass shit so he studies on the regular
it isn't until Max wrangles him into finally giving his own interests a go and he changes his path to a History Major with a Minor in Business
he is so much happier
History, specifically Ancient History, had always been an avid interest in Kai’s books so he basically dives into his new studies with his own brand of stoic enthusiasm
its also the sole reason why he’s been amassing so many books in his personal collection at home, Hilary had implored him to buy bigger shelves after Max nearly broke his neck tripping over a loose pile
Kai likes to study alone, preferably in his private study (Tyson keeps making fun of him for having a private study at the age of 18, what are you, a grandpa? damn rich kid lmao) with soft instrumental music playing – he’s especially fond of rainy ambience music
of course, Kai is often seated at the back of the classes, but is indisputably one of the best students with very insightful and well-researched essays, naturally, most of his professors adore him
except a select few traditional-minded professors – they’re still bitter that Kai stood his ground when they had overlooked Cleopatra’s history and reduced her to the Ancient Sex Symbol and Kai was ready to cut a bitch at the blatant disrespect towards an Ancient Political Mastermind
the majority in his class has a fat crush on him but thats nothing new
Max, for a long time, had a bit of a dilemma as his parents urge him to start choosing his preferred path; was it going to be Engineering like his Mother or Mechanics like his Father, and honestly? the poor boy was so torn
in the end, he confessed he wanted to do neither – he loved Beyblade but it wasn’t something he wanted to dedicate his life to forever
instead, his heart had always belonged to the ocean and he dreams of being a Marine Biologist
his father was very supportive, while Judy had her doubts so it took a little convincing – in the end, her son’s joy was more important to her and she too gave her blessing for him to pursue his dream
Max goes on to major Zoology, directed towards marine animals, and takes up a minor in Engineering because hey, it pretty much runs in his family and it stayed an avid interest of his
his university wasn’t too far of from Kai’s own, so sometimes when he stays over at Kai’s he gets a free ride to class
he returns the gesture by always providing the best butter croissants for breakfast (they’re still warm too!)
Max usually studies in the campus library, noise-cancelling headphones on, bopping silently to whatever music he’s listening to as he reviews his notes for the next exam
he researches a lot for his topics and has collected so much trivia about the ocean and its inhabitants in general
Max: did you know jellyfishes have no brain?
Kai: Max don’t bully Tyson
Tyson: excuse me?
the professors love Max tbh, he’s always fully engaged within class so they usually let him get away with things mainly bc he’s just their Favourite
pretty sure half of the university knows of Max in some way or another, being a social butterfly and all and maybe having flooded the campus once by accident
Ray also had a hard time deciding what to do and what to study; being from a rural village with traditions certainly made him question wether he should pursue a modern career or stay within his community
the White Tigers were quick to kick his ass over it however, booting him straight to Kai’s doorstep and telling him to do what he feels was right for him
now, he’s managed to get himself applied to one of the prestigious university for culinary arts – he’s not too sure yet which path he wants to take in terms of culinary skill
he loves cooking and working in a kitchen, however after many work experiences he has found that working at the command of someone else wasn't exactly to his tastes, not to mention, he’d like to dabble in more traditional culinary arts
as of now, Ray particularly enjoys the sweeter side of cooking, preferring to create intricate pastries and confectionaries, often stemming from his chinese roots but also applying his skill within the japanese side of things
his homemade mooncakes are honestly to die for
next to his obvious passion for cooking, he’s also taken up classes in horticulture, mainly bc he’d love to grow his own ingredients and create his own sets of spices and various artisan products
since his career path is very labour focused, he often practices at home and takes inspiration from various chefs all around the world. his bookshelves are full of recipe books and general insightful cookbooks
Max had suggested to him to make videos of his dishes, mainly for self-improvement, but also being able to put them online to start a crowd interest for his work
its going pretty well actually, his videos have become quite popular since they are aesthetically pleasing, the food looks tasty as hell and also a wide crowd of older people have voiced their joy in seeing more traditional confectionary being made
his friends secretly love their birthdays nowadays bc without fail, Ray always gifts them homemade foods, from neat boxes of handcrafted chocolates to cute jars of sweet jams
he knows, he always takes time to create flavours he knows they will appreciate
Tyson, surprisingly, knew exactly what he wanted to do, and it wasn’t anything to do with Beyblade
Hilary: WHAT ARE YOU SICK
Tyson: i- no? i just–
Ray: hold on maybe he’s running a fever
Tyson: would yOU GUYS JUST LISTEN–
look, he loves Beyblade, it’s something he’ll treasure all his life, something he’ll still pursue in the future, but
it won’t be what he wants to do full time
instead, he majors in Anthropology in order to pave his way into Archeology and everyone is so proud they start crying
next to his Major, he also minors in Business, mainly due to his longstanding position within the BBA, with whom he stays as a particular poster boy and star
next to his work with the BBA, he occasionally helps out in the Dojo and everyone kinda realises? that this guy is literally holding down two (2) whole jobs while also studying and if that isn't hardcore my dudes i don’t know
then again, he’s grown a lot and his interest in his father’s career had always accompanied him since he was a kid – however, his studying habits are still all kinds of atrocious and the only reason why he can even halfway ace his exams is bc he refuses to go down quietly, actually is really critical and analytical is he puts his head into it, and the fact that he employs Hilary to stand vigil with a rolled up magazine to smack him back into focus should he slack off
otherwise, he’s friends with most people in his class and regularly exchanges notes with them and even has become a favourite with a select few of his professors
most just find him exhausting but can’t refute his elaborate essays, which are both thoughtful as eyebrow raising
he attends the same university as Kai (much to his chagrin) and they stick together just as much as they bicker (one-sidedly) just like old times – however, they are both ancient history buffs and its one of the very few topics that they can be heard talking about in actual peace without Tyson going apeshit when Kai loses interest in the conversation
Tyson and Kai are also those college students who pull ridiculous all nighters to study
Max once got so nervous for an exam he made a terrifying concoction of Red Bull and Instant Coffee to stay up and study
he aced the exam but he cannot for the life of him remember what he did in those 24hours bc as soon as he went home he crashed for nearly 32hours straight
Tyson and Ray who were present at the time refuse to speak about it and when asked about it, they kinda just. disassociate for a minute at the sheer horror they had witnessed
Kai rarely ever communicates with classmates yet somehow gets always invited to all the frat parties
who are those people? he doesn’t know
#beyblade#bakuten shoot beyblade#beyblade headcanon#engineering some headcanons#bladebreakers#i low-key love those college aus only bc the amount of shenanigans they could get into#actually i should make a more extensive list about their shenanigans#bc this was literally halfway a meta about my own deductions of the characters#HM.
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Hikaru Tsumugu ~ Live Report
Notes: Got a 2-hour train ride ahead of me so I thought I’d use the opportunity to write up a little report. Please note that I was very exhausted during the live so I wasn’t able to pay as much attention as I usually would. Also, I didn’t know 7 out of the 17 performed songs so I had a hard time appreciating them properly. I didn’t cry which kinda surprised me. Maybe I was too tired. Hikaru did get a little teary eyed during the Kalafina section but aside from that, she was mostly happy and excited. Overall I think this live was much more powerful and cheerful in comparison to Hikaru’s birthday event from last year. Maybe that’s why it wasn’t as tearful. Then again, I know quite a lot of people who were sobbing like crazy. Anyways, let’s get this thing started:
Goods: I didn’t buy much tbh. The pamphlet, the tapioca set, the pen and the badges. The other stuff looked a little cheap if I am being honest. A little disappointed with the quality of the pamphlet. Quite expensive but very thin and it’s made up of some sort of rough paper material. Some pages have ugly printing marks (;_;)
Stage production: Pretty simple I’d say. The musicians were lined up on either side of a small staircase. There were some walls in the back and curtains/fabrics on top. They played the PVs of Hikaru’s songs during each H-el-ical// performance, it was nice to have the lyrics on screen to sing along. and for the other songs they mostly used elaborate lighting.
Hikaru’s look: As you can see from the pictures, she had her hair down for most of the live. It was styled very nicely with big curls. She wore a bold red lipstick. The live started with her wearing the white gown/coat. Pretending to take a drink, she went to her little table and all of a sudden she started stripping XD (it was like the Blue Day “signal” performance). She quickly dropped the coat during her MC before “Fili” and revealed a sexy red dress which was very reminiscent of the old Kalafina days (laces, corset style). After the instrumental she returned with a long blue dress that kinda reminded me of Kalafina’s 9+ONE denim style outfits due to the colour scheme. For her anisong section she surprised us once again by dropping the dress and revealing the sexiest outfit ever!!! Black high waisted leather pants and a black leather bralette. *nosebleed* During the encore she wore a black denim skirt and a long sleeved H-el-ical// shirt. Her hair was up. I wish they would have sold that shirt too since it looked much nicer than the normal t-shirts she was selling. As for shoes, she wore shiny black pumps with white laces. Speaking of laces, laces were definitely the main theme of her outfits that night. The coat, the dresses, her leather outfit and even her pumps had laces everywhere. Guess it all boils down to Tsumugu = Spinning. In her pamphlet you can see all the threads spinning around so I guess she was trying to go for the same vibe regarding her fashion. So glad Hikaru was kind enough to provide pictures of everything!!
Musicians: Everyone was in such a good mood!!! Gussy (Hikaru’s composer and one of the guitarists) was particularly hyped, he seemed to be really into it. Was a lot of fun to watch them perform.
Overall sound: I think for the most part, the live sounded great. Hikaru was in good shape and sang her songs well. If you don’t like the studio version though you won’t like the live version either. Hikaru pretty much used the same singing style which she used for the recording. The backing vocals were playing in the background to create a little more harmony. I think Hikaru was far more concerned about having fun rather than delivering a technically perfect performance! Hence, she ended up sounding a little off key or frail at times. Nothing that took away from the performance though. With someone as engaging as Hikaru I really don’t mind if the singing is less than flawless. Just seeing her having a blast was making up for any missed notes XD Wasn’t a particularly big fan of her anisong section because I didn’t know the songs and she got quite shouty there but I guess that was on purpose. Apart from some slightly screechy shouts she also did some very powerful shouts!
Random observations: The live was completely sold out! BANZAI!! The goods were also sold out (including the H-el-ical// CD). So happy for Hikaru’s “major debut“. I hope many people will watch the anime so she can have a lot of success as H-el-ical//. As has already been established, Keiko and LiSA were there to support Hikaru. They sat in the first row of the second floor (at the very left). Akihiro Tomita was also there. I think he might have taken up the role of producer. Masayuki Ohashi was also there. He was the one taking the picture of Keiko and LiSA. Then we have Takeshi Kato of course. I am expecting a SPICE live report very soon. When Hikaru did her infamous goods corner she also introduced her CD. Once again she mixed up Kalafina and H-el-ical// when she said that there were eight tracks by Kalafina included (during the SPICE broadcast she also mixed up the two if you can remember). It was super cute. Old habits die hard.
Amanhecer: Great start for the live, I LOVE this song. She sat on top of the stairs and sang it beautifully. It almost seemed like she was sparkling in her white coat. Like an angel.
Splendore: The pace really picked up here. Hikaru was running around on stage, jumping up and down. It was amazing to see her so happy. You can tell she was born to be a solo performer (something that cannot be said about Wakana XD).
粉雪 (Cover: Remioromen): Didn’t know the song but it was quite beautiful. Hikaru did a great job. Definitely one of the more memorable performances of the night.
WINTER SONG (Cover: Dreams Come True): Another song I didn’t know, unfortunately I didn’t particularly like it. Can’t really remember any details.
Fili:The first unreleased song from the CD. I loved it. Hikaru said it made her think of the earth. Too bad I can’t listen to my CD while I am in Japan.
Avaricia: Probably my second favourite H-el-ical// song. Awesome performance. Her dress was perfect for the more mature and jazz-y vibe of the verses. But of course my favourite part of the song is the chorus!
yolcu: Hands down the best H-el-ical// performance of the night (and my favourite song so far). This is such a good song!! Can’t believe how much I loved it! The way she was pushing her arm in the air, I literally felt power surging through me. Also, damn, Hikaru was so sexy moving to the exotic rhythm in her red dress.
Instrumental: That was kinda all over the place, didn’t really like it. It started with some sort of extension of “yolcu” and then it became very slow with just Hirotaka Sakurada and the violinist. Then the pace suddenly picked up again and everyone was playing. No idea if it was a special song or them just playing random stuff. I didn’t recognise it.
ARIA & blaze & sprinter: The Kalafina section was super special as expected. Hikaru said that she consulted Yuki Kajiura on the matter, about whether or not it would be a good idea to sing Kalafina songs. Everyone agreed that she should sing them if she wanted to, after all, they made these songs together (as long as the songs aren’t released on DVD/BD I am guessing Hikaru is free to sinf as many Kalafina songs as she wants). Only fitting that she should sing them. Also, her live is called “Tsumugu” which means spinning. It’s about the future of H-el-ical// which she is spinning right now but also about everything that has been spun so far and of course that includes Kalafina. It was just Hikaru, Saku-chan and the violinist. They used the acoustic arrangements from past performances. “ARIA” sounded different from her Birthday Event performance though. It was even slower and more dramatic. I LOVED it. Every time I hear a new version of “ARIA” I fall a little more in love with the song and Hikaru. If you have seen that short snippet of “blaze” in the 10th Anniversary Film then you get an idea of what it sounded like. “sprinter” was super emotional. Not as tear-inducing as during the Arena Live or during Hi’s B-Day Event but still, incredibly powerful. I definitely teared up and so did Hikaru!! “ARIA and sprinter” were shortened considerably since Hikaru didn’t sing any Kajiura-go parts. For the most part she also didn’t sing the Wa/Kei lines. I think she sang“blaze” in its entirety though (except for the bridge).
History Maker & Paradise Lost & 青空のナミダ: I have a hard time saying anything about these songs. I knew “History Maker” from the Birthday Event but the other two songs were completely new to me. No idea how the originals sound like but Hikaru certainly knew how to make the songs her own. I just wish she would have chosen songs better suited for her voice. Occasionally her singing sounded quite off. Or maybe I am wrong and the original songs simply sound like that. Most popular anisongs sound quite noisy to my ears. Whenever I am in Akihabara I have to cringe due to the loud not very pleasant sounding music playing in the background (I feel like it’s always something by Ao Eir or LiSA...no idea)...Hikaru was sexy as hell with her leather outfit so I mostly focused on that. Thank God I brought my binoculars. She was really bad-ass during the anime secret so it was a joy to watch.
Existence: I don’t remember anything about this song tbh, except that it had a very rock-ish vibe. I actually thought it was another anisong at first but then I kinda recognised Gussy’s trademark style and concluded that it must be the other unreleased H-el-ical// song. I probably won‘t be relistening to this a lot.
pulsation: Nice powerful ending! Nothing else to say about it.
EN
This is me: I had heard that song before but I couldn’t really place it. Either way, it was a very engaging performance! There are a lot of ooohhh parts in the song, Hikaru would sing one part and the audience would sing the other part. Everyone had a blast!! This was probably the most active song of the night in terms of audience interaction. Otherwise the audience was pretty tame I would say. Everyone remained seated during the entire live.
TSUMUGU: Not as emotional as I had expected, however, the lalala at the end killed me. We didn’t really sing along properly (neither were we asked to) but it was nice to have everyone waving. More teary eyes but no proper tears.
#hikaru#long text post#no read more because I have no idea howto add it#kalafina#report#hikaru solo live tsumugu#I am writing this while half dead#sorry for the weird formatting
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