#there might be a few lines between the first two pics i forgot
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#few3h#i need a tag for my few3h ramblings#spoilers#there might be a few lines between the first two pics i forgot#i only screenshot what interests me#for once i wholly agree with Shez affbsn#is her goal admirable? yeah. is her way of achieving it good?#nope#dimitri also wants to make it so birth doesnt influence what you're able to do in life#and you dont see him invading the rest of the country to bend them to his will#i know she's also got beef with the church but ehh
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thank you so much for the tag in that post!!! i immediately forgot every fact about myself unfortunately BUT i have two follow up qs for y'all.........
MERLIN! i am also obsessed with merlin and btw if you have a merlin account you are OBLIGATED BY LAW to tell me. constitutional amendment from the obama era. i think the merlin <--> supernatural pathway is all about duty by the way. and also gay sex.
also charlotte consider this ask your one drink please 🍷 and DO TELL!
haha, that's so fair! we love follow-up qs!
lizzy:
uh-oh! by law you say?? i'm sweatin'...i also love merlin! so much! i cannot shut up about it, and i have written/continue to write for merlin under a different account...but i fear i might have to break the law on this one. and it's strictly for the reason that i have Very Normal friends not familiar with fandom that follow my writing/keep up with my other ao3 and if they find out i shake the boys from spn between my teeth like a dog, i would have some massive explaining to do. obama's gonna come break my door down 😔 i am kissing you passionately in apology! but i think folks like my merlin work pretty okay! my biggest merlin fic is around 100k hits, which blows my mind with violence each day lol
you get it!!! you get it so hard!!!!!! what drives me crazy about merlin and spn is the inevitability of it all. they are soulmates, and they are fated to be joined, but at what cost? literally what cost? they are opposed forces, hunter and hunted, but a bond of love and forgiveness and belonging that keep them tethered beyond separation. it's the continuous loss and torture and fear and not leaving! they don't want to leave! their lives would be easier if they didn't love each other, but they can't stop. and they HAVE SEX! one of the things that sticks in my brain so hard about merlin specifically is the lengths that merlin goes to protect/save uther for arthur's sake. like that level of devotion, even at the betrayal of self, is BARK INDUCING!!! i could write forever and ever amen about merlin, so if i don't stop now, this entire post will just be me yapping and yapping.
charlotte:
oh my god WELL a few moments stand out from that day. first, lizzy and I were THE ONLY ONES TO DRESS UP after lizzy explained that people dressed up at cons (this was my first con ever—baby’s first!). Also me when I lie lol there were a couple sexy castiels but I digress. (lizzy note: there was also a billie and death cosplayer that blew my fucking mind my beloved <3)
second, literally everyone at our con had already met the boys. like. a girl pulled out a BINDER with like 4 m&g photos per page and just kept flipping through it. so while we were nervous wrecks all day, everyone was mysteriously so…chill?? like we picked up food on the way there and barely ate any of it since we were making ourselves ill.
waiting in line?? girl embarrassing you wouldn’t have wanted to see us because we were HYPERVENTILATING. as soon as we cleared the doorway and saw jared, he made eye contact with us and kept glancing over the line to check when we were coming up (because of our slay niche fits) and as soon as we did, he said the episode BY NAME and told us we did a great job. (lizzy note: he was very excited and also his hand is as big is my waist i blacked out the whole thing if i didn’t have a pic i wouldn’t think it happened)
that man’s chest and arms. gigantic. bigger than my head. he was as solid as a piece of marble. we were like what the fuck. took our picture and NO JOKE we had to sit down on the floor in the hallway. we called lizzy’s mom. we bragged to the barista in the convention center, who was also very excited. we vomited and threw up because misha was next but in character and costume and let me just say
that man’s hands were FRIGID.
I’ll say it!! (looking at you lizzy who doesn’t remember it smh.) his m&g was slay ish because he was just smoldering and barely said anything (LMAO our man was tired and they were running 2 hrs behind). but! hilarious. I have both of the pictures hanging in identical frames next to each other in my first grown up apartment and it looks like the same photo at a first glance. it is the second most expensive thing on my wall (my diploma taking first 🤧).
and that…that was a glorious day. we’re trying to go again since jensen was sold out so we can complete the trifecta 🫶
-charlotte (& lizzy! hello! 2-for-1!)
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Okay, so I need to talk about last weekend again and more specifically Arnas this time (you guys can skip this if you don't wanna hear me go on about the con again lol)
This whole thing is just, as @neonhairspray would say a turn of events😂
Meeting Arnas was hands down the best comic con experience I've ever had (and I've had a few good ones). I mean Mark had already set the bar so high by being the most chatty and down to earth actor I've ever met, I didn't think anyone could top that. But Arnas just took me completely by surprise. Going into his solo photo op I could see how sweet he was with everyone, sweet and so energetic, this man loves to pose and touch people and give everyone what they want. When it was my turn I just walked up to him to say Hi and put my arm around him for the photo but instead he hugged me, a real genuine tight hug. We were then interrupted by the photographer because the girl before me had to take her photo again, so I had to step back and he actually apologized for that (not his fault!).
This only meant I got to say hi to him again and get another hug so win win for me lol
Then he looked at me like "okay what are we gonna do?" and I just asked if we could hug again for the picture and he pulled me even closer asking "Like this?".
I met this guy for two minutes and we already hugged three times.
I saw him again later for the group photo shoot (with him, Mark and Alexander) This was the most chaotic thing ever, the girl from staff said no poses but Mark had already told us earlier he loved doing poses and obviously Arnas did as well so we weren't sure what to do then. We had two photos with them and the first one happened so fast I don't even know who was where lol (apparently I was in between Mark and Alexander) For the second photo my husband explained his idea for a pose and Mark and Arnas were so overly enthusiastic they forgot to inform Alex of the plan. It was seriously like a couple of overly excited puppies jumping about while me and Alexander were like "wtf is happening?" lol
Eventually we got it right and the pic turned out so fucking perfect, they were all so sweet and really dedicated to give us what we wanted. It's not always like that, these guys really gave their all.
Because Arnas was so nice, me and the husband decided on a last minute idea to also get an autograph, for @neonhairspray because she was the one who introduced me to him in a way. The original plan was actually to let him do a little video but the girl from staff at his table didn't allow that so I came up with the idea to just let him write something in Lithuanian for my Lithuanian friend as I felt that might feel a bit more personal as well.
I've never really done an autograph before except for Sebastian Stan and that was, well literally just him signing something without even looking up at you, there was no interaction. This was very different, standing in line and having done the selfie with Mark earlier I knew you actually got a chance to talk to the actors here. Now I'm not a talker, I'm Ewan in this scenario, introvert to the bone especially with people I don't know and my husband knows this. He asked "shall I explain it to him?" as he so often does, taking the heat off me because he's a sweetheart, but I was quick to decline this time.
I had talked to Mark earlier and he was very chatty and sweet but I still felt so nervous but this time my nerves felt under control.
I don't know if it's because Arnas had been so open and warm during the photo ops and I had already met hem but I just felt very comfortable talking to him. He has such a calming presence, despite his very active chaotic energy lol, but as an introvert it's those kind of people who bring you out of your shell and he really did that for me. He took his time to listen to my request, asked questions and then after he wrote the message he also translated it for us so we knew what it said. We talked some more about how he lived in The Netherlands for a while and he actually speaks a bit of Dutch. (Hearing him swear "godverdomme" is ingraved in my memory now lol) He was so open just chatting with us, I don't even remember everything we talked about.
He thanked us in Dutch afterwards and before we left he got up from his table to hug me again, and then even hugged my husband. This man is a hugger, I mean he didn't have to do that, he could have just stayed in his seat like most of them do and it still would have been an amazing experience but he, again, went the extra mile.
By then he had won over my husband completely as well btw. After we hugged my husband thanked him for being who he is and being so wonderful with all the fans and said it really meant a lot to all of us and you could just tell Arnas was genuinely touched by that. We both walked away on such a high because that felt like the best, most sincere interaction we've ever had with an actor.
In other words, Arnas is my favorite now and Ewan better step up (I'm kidding!) But yeah, it's been 3 days now and that serotonin boost is still lingering.
Btw @neonhairspray when we told him we actually wanted a video for you but weren't allowed he said "oh send me on Insta and I might look into it"
So, just so you know, the message is sent and it's up to him now ;)
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So I’m rereading the entire manga start to finish as I buy each volume basically. I’ve bought the first two and some in betweens like 14 and 29 but I’ve been meaning to support Horikoshi’s amazing work!! Also I wanted to better see the characters in his story by rereading something I haven’t read in at least 4 years lol so that’s what I’m doing!
Now let me tell you over these next few weeks about some of the things we forgot from volume one—bkdk edition!
One of their most interesting moments is obviously the “my body moved on my own” scene for Deku and Katsuki’s development and establishing relationship. Not only did Deku jump out at the time because “…there could be any number of reasons but…at that moment you looked like you needed saving!!” But we’re also able to see that both Katsuki and the sludge villan make commentary on Deku’s actions.
I thought on first read it was the sludge villan saying “you’re dead.” But its actually Katsuki? The text difference is pretty small but still you can tell it’s him who says the line…why?? It’s so strange and I’m not sure why it strikes me but I believe it’s because of how similarly it’s delivered as “don’t come…Deku..!” There’s really no look on Katsuki’s face that screams “you’re dead!” Like he’s said before. Then he says “stop…it..!”. Why would he want Deku to stop?? I mean Katsuki is pretty practical when it comes to staying alive and if Deku is the guy to help him breath then I don’t believe he would want Deku to stop unless he was thinking about Deku’s safety.
I mean rightly so but Katsuki looks terrified similar to how he looks during the war arc and training camp when Deku is about to die. Just interesting to note that he really might have tried even this early in the manga to protect Deku from getting himself killed. Idk maybe I’m crazy lol
Non bkdk related tho Izuku just…he’s such a damn good protagonist. I love him more than I did a few hours ago. Also pics of Hori slandering Deku because you know I love it ❤️💕
Extra cute pic:
Only into about mid first volume so I’ll add to the tag as I go! Love you all!
(This won’t just be bkdk content fyi! I mean…it’ll be mostly bkdk content but I love basically every character in mha — especially Izuku!)
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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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Fishing for a Star
type;; One-shot (6.4K words)
pairing(s);; fratboy!JK x older!Reader/OC
genre;; Slice of Life, Smut, College AU
warnings;; Drinking, oral (male receiving), shy!Koo, sub!Koo, slightly dom!Reader/OC, Yoongi being a dumbass voyeur, both parties pining for each other like idiots
a/n;; I feel like it’s been a motherfuckin’ year since I’ve written and posted anything. I honestly started this thing probably a year ago. I just really love the chill college parties trope. Might add more to this, but unlikely. Enjoy my pain as I cry over JK in leather.
edit;; Totally forgot to put a read more tag on here, sorry y’all. I even told myself to fucking do it right as I started the post. Also the pic isn’t mine, got it off Google.
------
“Please tell me that’s not what you’re wearing.”
You step out of the way for your housemate, the hoodie you’d picked out momentarily blinding you while you pulled it over your head.
“If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be putting it on.” You say, finally getting it over your head and shaking the hair out of your face. You blink at her half-way-to-getting-ready state, noting in the back of your head how good she looks even now. Her hair is done, wavy and a little disheveled. The shine of the dark strands makes you want to run your fingers through them, knowing they will be soft. Her makeup is half done and she’s dressed only in her underwear, but she’s beautiful all the same. You can tell she’s planning to doll herself up tonight and why shouldn’t she? It’s one of the biggest frat parties of the year and with it being her last year, she’s aiming to have a good time.
“This is a party, (Y/N). At least try and look a little slutty.”
You snort and grin a little, watching her pop her hip out while she eyes you.
“Why is that, baby?” You reply, reaching up to pull a couple of strands of her hair back into place fondly.
“I plan to get laid tonight. I expect you to too, babe.” She snaps, swatting your hand away.
“Sorry, sexy. I’m fishing for something special tonight and it doesn’t require the slutty look.”
“Oh god, not again.”
“What?” You question, turning back to the full length mirror and carding your fingers through your own hair to fix it.
“You’ve been after this boy for three years, (Y/N). He’s got you wrapped around his finger.” She states, walking away from you and back into the bathroom. You’re still smiling when you check one final time to make sure the jeans you’re wearing make your ass look great before leaning against the door frame.
“That was my plan from the beginning. Now I just need to wrap him around mine.”
She snorts, leaning over the sink and closer to the mirror.
“I said three years, didn’t I? If you haven’t bagged him yet, you won’t.”
You pout at her, but are undeterred. You know what kind of person he is and you’re well aware of how much work he had and will continue to take. You could tell he was not a one and done from the first moment you saw him. He would take time, a lot of it and you were willing to put it all in.
“You know how stubborn I can be.” You chuckle at her. She rolls her eyes, but smirks none the less. She knows she can’t say a word to change your mind.
“Whatever. If I catch you two together, I’m telling him to fuck you already.”
You laugh as you walk away, working on gathering what you’ll want to take to the party.
“You sure I’ll even be allowed at this thing?!”
“Are you kidding?! Everyone is invited to this party. The doors are left open so anyone can just fucking walk in off the street!”
You chuckle, grabbing your bag and stuffing your wallet in it. You’d graduated a couple years ago and while most of the seniors would know you, you sometimes felt weird hanging out at a party in the college you’d already graduated from. A girl has to do what she has to do when a baby boy is on the line, though.
And a baby boy he was.
-
“Jae!”
You smile as you and your friend enter the large, old house. The lighting is dim, the music is thumping and all you can smell is alcohol, sex and sweat. There’s noise all around you, but you and your friend weave through the crowd easily. Nearly everyone greets you as you two pass, guys high-fiving you and girls giggling and touching your arms. You bounce to the music as you follow her, the two of you making your way past the front stairs and down the hall. You make a pit stop in the kitchen- Jae grabbing the classic Solo cup and you pulling a bottle of beer from a cooler full of ice- before heading out onto the back deck.
The backyard is just as crowded as the house, people in the pool, people in the gazebo and people littering about the yard and deck. There’s a large bonfire near the back of the yard and a couple other smaller fire pits in random spots. One of them is up on the deck in a small metal pit, the warm flames surrounded by the very reason you and Jae came tonight.
“There’s our girls!” Namjoon shouts, lifting his can and drawing the attention of the seven other guys around him to you two. Taehyung, Hoseok and Jin all shout in unison as they spot you, Tae standing and pressing a sloppy kiss to your friend’s cheek. Yoongi and Namjoon lift their hands as you get closer and you reach out to slap each one. Jimin stands to press little pecks to first your cheek and then Jae’s. You all greet each other quietly before Jae slides herself into her target’s lap. She’s been after Jin all year and you haven’t been the only person sitting back to watch their game of cat and mouse. Jin is practically an expert at flirting just enough to keep her hooked without giving her what she really wants.
To be young and in lust.
Your eyes finally find the last member of the group, his silence keeping him out of spotlight unless he’s being searched for. He’s already looking at you when you spot him and his eyes dart down to his shoes while he shuffles behind Yoongi and Jimin. He can only keep his eyes off you for a moment before they find yours and he’s trapped. You smile softly at him, taking delight in how his eyes widen a fraction and his pupils grow. He’s holding a Solo cup, the rings on his fingers glinting in the firelight as he deftly squeezes them a bit tighter. He looks good tonight, his dark hair pushed back away from his forehead to show his strong brow. He’s dressed in all black, black t-shirt tucked into black jeans, black boots and to top it all off a leather jacket. He definitely pulled all the stops on you tonight and you have to make a conscious effort not to drool when you stare at him. He looks like a badass and you know every other girl in this joint sees him the same way, but you know the truth.
“Uh-oh,” Jae mumbles into Jin’s ear.
“She’s spotted her target and is locked on.”
You don’t bother listening to her, instead creeping closer to the object of your desire.
“Hey, Jungkookie,” You murmur quietly to him, leaning in a bit closer, but not too close. You had to be very meticulous with him.
“Hey, noona,” he responds shyly and the whole circle of friends is a sniggering mess for a moment. Pink begin’s to dust his cheeks, but you spare him a little and turn to flick Jimin in the back of the head.
“You lot are pretty curious tonight. Weren’t you all having a conversation before we came up?”
They all snigger some more, but quickly go back to bullshitting around the fire, leaving you and Jungkook in peace. You take another step closer to him, half expecting him to maintain the distance between you, but he remains still and lets you get closer. Threes years it’s taken you to get even this close to him, his overtly shy and sweet demeanor keeping him just out of reach of your darker, more corrupted hands.
“You look good tonight,” you comment and his blush darkens in the firelight. He thanks you almost too quietly, quickly bringing the cup of beer he’s holding to his lips to distract himself somehow and it has you chuckling lowly at him. He looks away from you, avoiding your eyes and you can’t stop the fiendish grin on your lips. You finally give him some respite, turning away from him to join in on the random conversation that the group is sharing around the small fire pit.
Finally…
He get’s his chance and takes it without a second thought. He spent years hesitating in such small matters and found himself either missing out or always caught if he didn’t take the chance when it was presented to him. So he learned. Now when you have those few precious moments where your focus is not on him- where you are off guard for just a beat- he gets to watch you instead. Watch the way your eyes glow in the firelight, or the way your hair just barely shifts as a warm breeze lazes by. He takes in your simple outfit, jeans and a sweatshirt. Nothing like the rest of the girls at every party he’s ever been to. Your smile moves your whole face, your cheeks rising, you lips splitting and even your eyes squinting shut as you tease Taehyung. His lips quirk a little on their own when he notices that your ears shift a little when you smile as well.
Your lashes are long even without makeup, so much so that the first time he’d ever met you he could have sworn they were fake. But then he caught you tugging on them one afternoon while you told old stories with Namjoon. You did it regularly and had told him you could feel the dead ones coming out, you wanted to get them before they fell into your eyes. A quirk he’d logged away to keep safe for the rest of eternity. The beer in your one hand shifts to the other, the rings on your fingers clinking just loud enough for him to hear over Hoseok’s shouting. A hobby of sorts you shared with Jimin. You two wore the same ring size and often went shopping for new ones together, even swapping every now and again. The free hand moves about in the air as you speak and Jungkook thinks it almost weird now to see someone talk without gesturing with their hands so much. How did one truly immerse another in their words if they didn’t show them how it felt as well? When you were angry- fuming for either your own hardships or for those of a friend- you pointed a lot, your head shaking and your hands slicing through the air to signal how done you were. When you told stories of your adventures with the oldest members of his brothers your hands where always in the air; swiping, rolling, falling and twisting. You painted such a picture with only the movement of your hands when you spoke. They weren’t really dainty, your palms wide and your fingers not very long, but they fit perfectly with his hands. A fact that amazes him, but that he’s grown rather fond of. When you laugh, it’s loud. Not soft, not like the twinkling of bells, but like a song. Loud, but still beautiful and it can range from joyous mirth to deep and rich fondness, the type of feeling that fills your chest with warmth and adoration. That’s the laugh he enjoys the most, that deep chuckle. The one you give to him quietly so just the two of you can hear it.
He wants you. He was confused at first, for a long time. Scared of your mature age compared to him and your strength. He always sees you as strong, even if you don’t think so yourself. You always make him nervous, unsure if he is really worthy of the sweet attention you give him. The quiet whispers just between the two of you, the soft touches, the adoring look in your eyes. He fears all your attention, but he can’t deny now that he wants it- needs it. He can’t go a day without it.
-
The party winds down and you are delighted at the sight of mattresses being brought down and strewn haphazardly across the floor in their living room. When Jungkook finally picks his spot you waste no time in shuffling closer to his mattress. Normally you would keep your distance, allowing him his comfort of solitude to sleep, but you’ve already allowed him plenty of his liberties tonight. You will get something out of this evening if not a simple kiss in the dark. He shocks you by saying nothing as you lay down, your eyes just catching a glimpse of Jae and Jin heading upstairs. Probably to his room to finally earn what she’s worked so hard for. She quickly casts you a thumbs up, a large grin on her face as she tries to keep it unnoticed by anyone else in the room. You return the gesture and chuckle, groaning a bit when you body finally hits the not so comfortable springs. You take a moment to sigh before opening your eyes again and focusing them on the object of your desires.
He’s staring right back at you and your breath catches in your throat, lost in the sea of stars in his eyes. They’re wide and shining, staring so intently at you that you almost don’t take notice to the shine of his lips. Like he’s just licked them a few times. Even in the dim light of the moon that filters in through the windows and the very few lights in the house on you can see them glisten, and your eyes are torn between them and his shining eyes. He looks like a lost puppy staring at you, but there’s more in his eyes. He looks in awe, almost afraid and- dare you say it- a little eager. Like he wants something to happen, but it scares him and that thought alone drives straight to your core. A fire alights inside you and suddenly you’re staring back at him with equally wide eyes, your bottom lip trapped between your teeth. The action immediately draws his large eyes to your mouth and fuck if you don’t almost groan when his tongue pokes out to lick nervously over his lips again.
His mouth parts ever so slightly and you swear you can hear him panting a little over the din of people ambling to where they plan to sleep. Someone plops down directly behind you, their back hitting yours as they shift to get comfortable. You’re right on the edge of the mattress, so this person has to be hanging off the one they’re laying on to be this close to you. And by the feel of how broad their shoulders are it’s definitely a man. Your eyes narrow and you almost growl when Jungkook stiffens in front of you and the man knocks against you again. Your head turns just enough to spot the thin, white shirt he’s wearing stretch over one shoulder before you’re shoving back with your elbow. He grunts when you dig into his back, but says nothing else, only leaning away from the discomfort. He’s clearly wasted. Still, he’s too close to you and taking the great opportunity presented before you, you scoot closer to the apple of your eye. He doesn’t shy away and it takes all your effort not to reach out to him when you finally focus back on him.
“Sorry,” you whisper, scooting just a tiny bit closer than you really need to. He shakes his head quietly, mumbling out an ‘it’s okay’ while his body leans closer to yours. God you want to ravage this sweet boy. It’s practically making your heart explode with how cute he’s being right now. He’d looked away in his response, but when he looks back to you he’s dragging his lip through his teeth and you really can’t take it. Again you two are lost in your own little world as you stare at each other.
“Jungkookie… you’re not being very nice to me right now.”
His eyes widen even further- if that’s even possible- and he looks almost stricken at the comment.
“What?” He manages to almost whimper out and you just can’t stop yourself from scooting even closer to him.
“You’re looking at me so sweetly, baby. How am I supposed to play nice with you tonight if you keep staring at me like that?”
You don’t know where all this confidence is coming from. Granted you’ve always been a bit more confident than the young man in front of you, but even still, you never thought you’d get to a degree where you were saying such flirtatious things in such a dominant tone to him.
“Play… nice?”
The glint changes in your eyes and Jungkook visibly shutters at the sight. Your eyes had been so deep and full of adoration just a moment ago, now all he sees is greed and lust. It makes his already hard cock twitch in his pants. Gods he’s been hard from the moment you called him that nickname- Jungkookie. He generally doesn’t like anyone, but the guys saying it. But every time you say it…
He’s almost scared to feel how excited he’s getting every time you scoot a little bit closer. He doesn’t want you to stop. Not until your body is finally pressed to his and he can hold you so tight, and never let go. He’d hoped something would have happened between you two before tonight, but he was always so scared and you were always so cautious with him. He just wants you to ravage him already. He’s dreamed about it practically every night, it might as well happen already.
“Stop,” you suddenly say and he can feel your fingers on his chin, pulling his lip from between his teeth.
“If you lick or bite your lips one more time,” you have to take a moment to calm yourself before continuing, “… I don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself.”
He throbs in his jeans and when he locks eyes with you he’s lost. He doesn’t want you to stop, he realizes that now after feeling your fingers touch his skin. Fire ignites where they trace from his chin and along his jaw. He trembles beneath your touch and you can feel it. Oh you can feel it. You do the opposite of what you just told him, biting your lip to draw his eyes to them again as you two gravitate ever closer.
“Unless you don’t want me to.”
He doesn’t speak, he feels like he doesn’t know how to in that moment. He doesn’t trust himself to anyway, so he does the next best thing. He licks his lips again and is rewarded. Your fingers that had been running along his jaw suddenly snake into the hair at the nape of his neck and you pull him close. He is just as needy as you are, his hands which had been fiddling with his shirt the whole time are suddenly flying up to tug your bodies even closer. Your lips crash against his and he whimpers into your mouth when you both open them simultaneously, your tongue dragging along his. It takes all your conscious effort not to moan, your body melding itself against his. His arms wrap around you and squeeze you to him, his whimpers turning into a little moan when you gain dominance in the kiss.
You pull away, one of your hands coming back to his jaw to to place a thumb over his open lips. You turn to look back at the bodies laying around the room, most of the members of the fraternity still down here, all of them passed entirely the fuck out. The guy just behind you is snoring up a storm and you can’t help smirking a little when you turn back to face Jungkook. He looks so fucked out already, his eyes glazed and his pupils blown wide as he pants lightly against your thumb. Your smile is both devious and full of fondness as you stare at him.
“You look so good baby, but you have to be quiet for me,” you whisper to him and he does nothing more than open his mouth wider. His tongue snakes out and licks against your thumb, pulling it in and sealing his lips around the appendage. He suckles on it hungrily and gods be damned if your panties aren’t soaked at this point.
“Fuck,” you sigh, squeezing your thighs together. You want him so bad it almost hurts. He pulls away far enough that your thumb pops from his lips and he whimpers once again, pulling you as close as he can.
“Noona, please,” he says, his breath shuddering.
“Please what, baby?”
He grabs one your hands and pulls it down between your bodies, pressing your palm to the bulge in his jeans. Your breathing deepens when you palm the hardness through the thick fabric, wondering how you didn’t notice it before.
“Oh baby,” you coo quietly and rub your hand heavily over his bulge. He bites his lip to hold back the moan threatening to break free and you feel his hips start to rock into your hand. He’s so fucking hot, how have you been able to resist him for so long?
“How long have to been this hard?”
He takes a moment to respond, trying to take deep breaths. Your hand stalls to help him regain some semblance of sanity, but he seems against the idea. His hand returns to gripping yours, pressing your palm back against his hard-on.
“Long time,” he finally gets out in a clipped tone, probably unable to speak properly at this point.
“Poor thing.”
You pull closer to him, pressing your forehead to his and lowering your voice so that you’re barely audible.
“Take your cock out for me, baby. Please.”
He keeps you close and groans into your neck, only taking a moment to collect himself before he’s pushing away, and his hands are flying to undo his pants. He struggles with the button for a moment, but you don’t help him, only leaning back to watch with excitement. When he finally gets them undone he’s tugging them down just enough so he can freely pull is cock out and gods is it beautiful. Your mouth waters as soon as he has it out, its pink color and red head making you want to feel the weight of it on your tongue. It’s not particularly long, but it’s thicker than you thought it would be and the precum that glistens on his tip calls out to you. You let out a heavy breath when his hands hover just shy of his shaft, trembling and aching to give the poor weeping thing some relief. Still he hesitates to touch himself.
Such a good boy.
“You’re so gorgeous,” you practically wheeze out, finding it hard to breathe when your twitching hand finally reaches out for him. He’s whimpering before you even touch him and you have to remind him to be quiet when the tip of your finger goes to touch the head.
“Remember, baby, keep it down.”
He nods a little shakily and just as you press into the precum on his tip with your finger, his hands are flying up to cover his mouth. He’s so sensitive and you love it.
“Well, you’re certainly aching there aren’t you? Does it feel good to have me touch you?”
Again he nods and you pout, swirling your finger in the sticky fluid at his tip. His eyes clench shut at the sensation and he deftly thrusts his hips up to meet more of your hand.
“Use your words or I’ll have to stop.”
“Yes,” he whispers out harshly, his hands clenching into fists at his stomach, “… yes, yes, yes, yes!”
You smirk, the high you’re getting from all of this driving you to carry on.
“Good boy.”
You continue to swirl your finger over his tip a few more times, widening your circle until you’re sliding your finger down the top of his length, all the way to the base. He pants a little too heavily, his eyes glued to your hand and what you’re doing to him. You circle around his base to the bottom of his cock before dragging your finger back up and rubbing it deftly over the slit a few times.
“Fuck noona-“
“Language, Jungkookie.” You say with a smirk, your hand finally flattening over the underside of his length so you can palm him a few times. His hips rock against his will and meet you half way every time you press down on him. He looks so pretty like this, his eyes nearly black and so focused on how your palm drags over his length. He’s sweating a little, panting a lot and his gorgeous cock is ready to explode at any second. And you’ve barely even done anything to him yet.
“What made you so hard and needy like this?”
He stays silent for a long moment, only answering when the pressure of your hand lightens and you begin to pull away.
“You… you made me like this. You always… make me like this.”
Always?
“Fuck, Kookie, if you had told me sooner we might’ve actually got it in tonight.”
His eyes are glistening at this point as they shoot up to glance at you before scrunching shut when your fingers finally wrap around his shaft. You pump him slowly, but his hips make up for that and keep the sliding of his cock in and out of your hand at a steady pace.
“I wanted to. Fuck I wanted to, but…”
“But?”
He pants a few times, focused more on chasing his high. Your grip on his cock tightens to the point that he’s forced to stop thrusting, only allowing him to continue when he answers.
“I-I was scared. And you were being so cautious with me-“
“Of course I was! I didn’t want to scare you away. I worked too hard for you, I wasn’t going to mess that up by being too greedy.”
His hips stutter and then pause, his eyes opening to look at you. His face is flush, you can tell even in the dark, and his hair is starting to stick to his face. Still he looks like the sexiest, most beautiful thing you’ve ever seen.
“Why?”
“What?” You ask, not prepared to be questioned back like this.
“Why did you put so much effort into me. You could’ve easily slept with one of the other guys. Yoongi’s always had the hots for you. So has Tae. Why me?”
You take a long moment to mull over your answer, your other hand coming up to push some of his sweaty hair out of his face. When you get some clear, you lean in to kiss him a little more gently this time. Though it isn’t any less heated, it’s more of a deep sensual kiss than one of hunger and lust. When you pull away, you look him in the eyes when you answer.
“The same reason anyone chooses anyone else. You’re the one I wanted, Kookie. I would’ve put in a hundred years of work if I had to.”
His eyes are wide with adoration and awe, but the moment can’t last forever. His cock twitching in your hand reminds you of what is happening and you squeeze it gently before going back to pumping him. He gasps quietly at the sensation, his eyes falling closed and his body slowly starting to roll backwards. You move with him, pressing your body into his side when he’s finally laying flat on his back. His hands are clenching and unclenching against his stomach, desperate for some kind of anchor. A thought pings into your mind while you watch him grasp sporadically at his shirt, releasing his cock and pushing both his hands and the shirt up his abdomen. He whines at the loss of contact, lifting his head to see why you’d stopped stroking him only for his eyes to go wide. He looks a bit panicked, his gaze darting around to the half dead bodies around you two. You could so easily be caught, but most of the occupants of the house were completely wasted and would likely never remember this even if they did see it.
You slide down his body quietly, stealthily, like a cat taunting its prey into the shadows. Your eyes catch his and they hold him, their mischief so palpable that it makes Jungkook’s mouth go dry and his cock pulsate so fiercely it taps against his stomach. Your one hand trails down his side lightly, nails tickling his hip and thigh so that he’s shuddering beneath you. He reaches for you, one hand cupping your cheek- wants to tell you to stop, but his throat is so dry he can’t even whisper. Or perhaps he’s lying to himself and doesn’t want you to stop at all. When you quirk an eyebrow in question and you feel the object of your desire tap against your throat with another needy pulse, you know the answer is no, he doesn’t want you to stop.
A trembling whisper of your name leaves his lips and you can only smirk, tilting your head down to kiss just above his navel and then to one side of it. Down, down, further you trail, your kisses getting sloppier as you descend closer to your target. Your tongue and teeth leave wet, rosy patches as you go and you can feel his muscles quivering every time you touch him until finally the desperately red tip of his cock is right in front of you. He whimpers beneath you and you shush him gently, unable to tear your eyes away from the way it pulses and twitches up towards you.
“Please,” he finally lets out, sounding much like he’s on the verge of tears. You smirk again and glance up at him through your lashes.
“Please what, baby?”
He huffs cutely, his other hand cupping the other side of your face and his thumbs smoothing along your cheekbones like he’s so desperate to just pull you into his cock, but doesn’t want to be too demanding. You smile a bit more when his look gets more and more frantic, one of your arms reaching up to rub his chest under his shirt soothingly.
“Relax, my sweet star. Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you.”
“P-please…”
“Go on, baby. I know you want it, just tell me.”
“Please, I want your mouth,” he finally shutters out, but you can’t help yourself and push just a bit more.
“What do you want from my mouth?”
He huffs again and looks away, searching the room to make sure everyone there is truly oblivious.
“I-I want…”
“Want?”
“Please, noona, ravage me with your mouth.”
He looks you directly in the eyes as he finishes and the glee that soars through you practically makes you light headed. You grin broadly at him and bite your lip.
“I’ll give you anything you want, bunny. You just have to ask.”
Before he can really bask in your words you focus back on his cock, the hand that had been trying to soothe him shooting down to wrap gently round his base and lead his head to your waiting tongue. His breath shudders out and his mouth opens to let out a rush of air. The precum leaking from his tip covers your tongue in salt, but you don’t mind, all too desperate to feel the full weight of him at the back of your throat. Still you take your time, only licking at his slit to tease him, another droplet of precum oozing out every time to you do.
He’s panting while he watches you, his hands trembling on your face until one shakily weaves into your hair at the crown of your head. He doesn’t grip or pull, doesn’t try to shove more of his cock into your mouth which is what you’re used to. No, he’s too gentle and sweet to force anything. He only wants and lets you lead the way. When you finally wrap you lips around his tip he can’t hold back the noise, his head falling back, his teeth digging into his bottom lip and what he hopes is a quiet moan leaving him. And you can only smirk at the sound, the subtle shudder in his voice making you even more wet and your stomach clench with desire.
You take the time to generously wet the head of his cock, delighting in its twitches while you swirl your tongue around him. When you pop him from your lips the poor thing looks pathetic, practically weeping in your fingers and you feel all too obliged to take him back in. Only this time you take him all in, or at least as much as you can. You suck him all the way to the back of your throat, moaning quietly around his shaft so he can feel the vibrations. And oh does it make him make the most wonderful of sounds. A surprised cry and the slapping of a hand over his mouth (the one that was lightly stroking his fingers along your cheek) has you trying to smile around him.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck-…”
He lets the mantra trail off quietly, his body arched so you can’t see his face anymore. And as much as you adore the sight of him losing control, you’d much rather see the pleasure on said face. You suck harshly and pull off him, letting him once again pop from your lips. You take care to pump him slowly while you speak, you spit slicking his cock enough that there’s little friction.
“Look at me baby.”
It takes him a few moments, but you wait patiently until he realizes you gave him an order and he follows through. He looks a little lost when he finally locks eyes with you, his gaze a little wild like he can’t really see you at first.
“Noona?”
“Are you with me, sweetheart?”
He looks confused, but nods all the same, probably ready to agree to anything at this point.
“Listen carefully, baby. I want you to look at me the whole time. Don’t you dare look away or I’ll stop, okay? Eyes on me.”
He nods deftly, afraid he won’t be able to fulfill your request, but eagerly wanting to please you.
“Good boy.”
You don’t give him any time to prepare himself and suck him back in as far as he’ll go. He wheezes and squeezes his eyes shut for just a moment, quickly remembering your order and opening them back up to focus on you again. You smirk around his cock to let him know you approve and focus back on your task. When you can’t push him any further down your throat you opt to bob your head, one hand stroking what you can’t swallow and the other massaging his balls. You look up every few seconds to make sure he’s still watching and only have to stop once to make him look at your again. The sloppier his cock and your mouth gets the more he shakes and shudders beneath you, the hand in your hair trembling like a leaf in the wind. He keeps his other hand up by his face, ready to cover his mouth every time he can’t hold back a whimper or moan.
It doesn’t take long, only a few minutes and he’s desperately pleading to you, “I’m cumming, I’m cumming, I-“
You push him in as far as you can take and swallow around him just once before he’s shooting his load down your throat. Tears form in his eyes when he squeezes them shut and you can’t fault him when his head falls back onto the mattress. He did such a good job of watching you, you’ll let him have this one. When the last of his cum is swallowed down, you take care to gently clean what you can off his cock with your tongue. He shakes and gasps beneath you as you do, his head shaking back and forth as if to say he can’t take anymore. You pop off him one last time and kiss his tip softly, grinning when he finally cracks his eyes open to look at you.
He looks madly in love while he stares at you and it makes you somewhat nervous to see such intense emotion in his eyes. You lift yourself and crawl back up his body, pausing to help him pull his pants back up and his shirt back down. You hush him when he tries to button and zip everything back up, pushing his weak and tired hands away.
“No one will notice, just rest baby.”
“Well that was hot.”
You freeze over him, Jungkook’s body going rigid and his eyes widening with fear. You both look over your shoulder and spot Yoongi a small ways away from the foot of your mattress, laying on his side with his head propped up in one hand. He’s smirking at the two of you and while Jungkook looks mortified, you only feel proud. Now someone has witness that Jungkook is yours and no one else can have him.
“Hyung,” he whispers harshly, both his hands coming up to cover his face. You smile fondly at your boy before looking back to Yoongi.
“Well if you’re good and keep this to yourself, maybe next time you can join us.”
Yoongi quirks an eyebrow and grins excitedly, Jungkook letting out a panicked noise when you settle in beside him. He whispers to you quietly as if he doesn’t want Yoongi to hear and you only shush him gently to calm him.
“Lay down and rest, bunny. Don’t worry about him, he’ll keep quiet.”
“But-“
“Shh, sleep.”
You run your fingers through his hair until he finally settles down, turning so that he can wrap himself around you and tuck his head under your chin. You chuckle lovingly and continue to pet him, using your free hand to flip Yoongi off when he makes lewd gestures at you in the dark.
#bts#bangtan sonyeondan#bts smut#bangtan sonyeondan smut#jungkook smut#jungkook#jeon jungkook#bts jungkook#jeon jungkook smut#bts jungkook smut#jungkook oneshot#bts oneshot#bangtan sonyeondan oneshot#bts scenario#bangtan sonyeondan scenario#jungkook scenario#bts jungkook scenario#bts jungkook oneshot#sub!jungkook#jungkook x y/n#jungkook x reader#jungkook x you
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A Prom in S4 Theory & Music Coding Predictions
Some leaked set pics indicate that there MAY BE a junior/senior prom at Hawkins High, which they are calling the "Lover's Ball". It's unclear if this prom will be included on screen, or if it will just be mentioned as an event coming up at Hawkins High because this flyer could just extra set decor. Regardless if the prom happens on screen or not, there will probably be some tension about 'who's asking who' to the prom that we will see in s4. Given that this picture was just leaked a few weeks ago, it probably falls closer to the end of the season sequentially.
Having a big school dance in s4 is suspiciously close to how they had the Snowball scene in s2. This would certainly follow the even/odd season patterns, (and actually add to the list of the patterns), which kind of makes me think we will see this prom on screen, or at the very least it will be mentioned in the course of the season.
The Duffer Brothers love Steven King and reference his work and especially 'IT' a lot in the show, but they haven't done anything with Carrie yet so maybe we will get a Carrie moment this season at the prom...
Carrie was on the video store fridays movie inspiration board for ST4.
At the "Lover's Ball", there will be definitely be some music coding relating to Byler. Since music coding is kind of a key thing in the show, I've been rifling through 80's songs to try and find some that may fit with s4's themes/character storylines (and I may do a seperate post about that later), but for this post I'm just gonna focus on what they might use at the prom for relating to Byler.
Since the season is most likely going to take place in 1986, I only selected songs that had a compatible release year so it would be historically accurate. (these songs would also be great for a byler playlist!)
Some strong contenders for the songs that might play at the prom to reference Mike and Will's relationship could be:
"True Colors" by Cyndi Lauper (1986)
This song is honestly too good of an option for them not to use. I'm reallllyyy crossing my fingers for this one.
It's hard to take courage
In a world full of people
You can lose sight of it all
And the darkness inside you
Can make you feel so small
"And I see your true colors
Shining through
I see your true colors
And that's why I love you
So don't be afraid (don't be afraid)
To let them show your true colors
True colors are beautiful (you're beautiful, oh)
Like a rainbow
Oh oh oh oh oh like a rainbow"
If this world makes you crazy
And you've taken all you can bear
You call me up
Because you know I'll be there
"Heaven" by Bryan Adams (1984)
This first verse is literally just the story of Byler... 😭 The rest of the song applies but that verse verse is just sooooo accurate. (I'm crossing my fingers for this one too)
"Oh thinkin' about all our younger years
There was only you and me
We were young and wild and free
Now nothing can take you away from me
We've been down that road before
But that's over now
You keep me comin' back for more
Baby you're all that I want
When you're lyin' here in my arms
I'm findin' it hard to believe
We're in heaven
And love is all that I need
And I found it there in your heart
Isn't too hard to see
We're in heaven
Oh once in your life you find someone
Who will turn your world around
Bring you up when you're feelin' down
Yeah nothin' can change what you mean to me
Oh there's lots that I could say
But just hold me now
'Cause our love will light the way"
"Take My Breath Away" by Berlin (1986)
This song is on Will's Spotify playlist, and I thought it could also be used at the prom since it's a romantic song. I see it as an 'entrance to the prom' moment song, almost like a 'first look' - like the Mike and El moment at the snowball when she first walks in, but with Mike and Will this time. I think the lyrics clearly hint to this kind of 'first look' moment as well.
"Watchin' every motion in my foolish lover's game
On this endless ocean, finally lovers know no shame
Turning and returning to some secret place inside
Watchin' in slow motion as you turn around and say...take my breath away"
Watchin' every motion in this foolish lover's game
Haunted by the notion, somewhere there's a love in flames
Turning and returning to some secret place inside
Watchin' in slow motion as you turn my way and say...take my breath away"
"In The Air Tonight" by Phil Collins (1981)
This song was originally meant to be included in the snowball scene from s2, but it ultimately was not used and "Every Breath You Take" was used for this scene instead. Since it was intended to be a part of the s2 dance, that's why I think it may be used at the prom this season. (you can read the scripts on 8flix)
——— I forgot to include this explanation originally BUT, I think this song might be used to show some anger/resentment between the two, and to show a decent amount of tension, depending on their development this season. Like maybe Mike is kind of leading Will on in private by continuing to initiate intimate scenes between them, but in public Mike is still trying to put on his “straight boy act” and kind of being a jackass about it, and this song could be used to show the tension between them that has caused.
"And I've been waiting for this moment, for all my life, (Oh lord)
Well, I was there and I saw what you did
I saw it with my own two eyes
So you can wipe off that grin, I know where you've been
It's all been a pack of lies.
Well I remember, I remember don't worry
How could I ever forget
It's the first time, the last time we ever met
But I know the reason why you keep this silence up
No you don't fool me
The hurt doesn't show, but the pain still grows
It's no stranger to you and me"
"In Your Eyes" by Peter Gabriel (1986)
Some of the lyrics in this song just SCREAMS byler, just look at the 1st, 2nd and 4th paragraphs. I would be suprised if they didn't use this song in either s4/s5.
Love, I get so lost sometimes
Days pass and this emptiness fills my heart
When I want to run away I drive off in my car
But whichever way I go
I come back to the place you are
All my instincts, they return
The grand facade, so soon will burn
Without a noise, without my pride
I reach out from the inside
In your eyes
The light, the heat (in your eyes)
I am complete (in your eyes)
I see the doorway (in your eyes)
To a thousand churches (in your eyes)
The resolution (in your eyes)
Of all the fruitless searches (in your eyes)
Love, I don't like to see so much pain
So much wasted and this moment keeps slipping away
I get so tired working so hard for our survival
I look to the time with you to keep me awake and alive
"Heroes" by David Bowie (1975)
David Bowie was bisexual. A cover of his song “Heroes” is used in the show twice already, sung by Peter Gabriel. The song plays when they pull Will's fake body out of the water in season one and Mike cries in his Mom's arms, with some very queer-coded lyrics in the background, and after Hopper's letter in s3 (which is very Byler-centric)
"I will be king. And you, you will be queen
'Cause we're lovers, and that is a fact. Yes, we're lovers, and that is that. Though nothing will keep us together. We could steal time just for one day We can be heroes forever and ever. What d'you say?
I, I wish I could swim, like dolphins, like dolphins could swim
I, I can remember (I remember) Standing by the wall (By the wall) And the guns shot above our heads (Over our heads) And we kissed as though nothing could fall (Nothing could fall) And the shame was on the other side. Oh, we can beat them forever and ever. Then we could be heroes just for one day
We're nothing, and nothing will help us Maybe we're lying, then you better not stay But we could be safer just for one day"
I just thought the above songs might be some highly likely possibilities given that they fit the year of the s4 and also make references to not only love, but the idea of hiding, pain, shame, longing, etc., and can make some (partially stretching here) references to other things in the show such as:
RAINBOWS and TRUE COLORS, SHINING THROUGH (rainbows imagery is always associated with Mike & Will in the show and a is symbol of lgbtq+ pride, True Colors shining through = who you really are on the inside finally coming out)
IF THIS WORLD MAKES YOU CRAZY ("crazy together", "only love makes you that crazy" and references the "world" motif in the show)
YOUNGER YEARS, ONLY YOU AND ME, YOUNG, WILD AND FREE (references "not wanting things to change" and wanting "to make things go how they were" part in Hopper's letter, and the "But we're not kids anymore" comment during the Byler fight)
ENDLESS OCEAN and SWIM, LIKE DOLPHINS (references water's significance in the show)
FLAMES (Will in front of the burning car in s4 teaser?)
LIES and LYING (Mike lying to El about how he feels)
INSTINCTS RETURNING, FACADES BURNING, WITHOUT MY PRIDE, I REACH OUT FROM THE INSIDE (Mike's feelings for Will are his instincts, the facade is the act he put on in s3 to seem straight, burning could reference Will & fire, and I think the last 2 lines of that 2nd verse reference vulnerability- perhaps in an apology/confession)
I GET SO LOST (confusion about his sexuality, feeling lost without the other) and SO MUCH WASTED TIME (known each other since kindergarten but were unaware the other felt the same way/was dealing with same things, they could have been even closer)
KINGS and QUEENS (the d&d game mike wrote where he has king Tristan give him a medal in s1)
STEALING TIME (references "turning back the clock, to make things go how they were" part in Hopper's letter and the time theme in s4 and time is central to the s4 plot)
AND WE KISS - AND THE SHAME (references the shame they both feel about being gay since it was so stigmatized in the 80's)
Byler @ Prom Possibilities:
If Mike and Will did dance together at the prom, they will probably get bullied because they live in a small conservative town. They will probably either run out, upset, or Eleven will step in to protect them which could lead to the Carrie moment.
Or Mike and Will will not dance together in the actual dance room, but instead sneak off to somewhere else in the school and have a private Byler dance moment where they can't be teased and it's just them together.
OR Mike and Will are still acting weird at this point in the season because neither of them is communicating what needs to be said out of fear, or one of them has confessed or done something to indicate how they feel, but the other hasn’t so everything is weird between them. There would be lots of tension from this and we would get lots of longing looks and adoring moments between the two of them from the sidelines. (I think this one is the most likely)
#byler#byeler#st4 bts pics#st4 spoilers#st4 leak#byler rights#byler is real#byler obsessed#byler is canon#byler theory#byler proof#byler is endgame#will byers#mike wheeler#will byers is gay#mike wheeler is gay#mike x will#will x mike#eleven#stranger things#stranger things 4#stranger things four#stranger things season 4#stranger things season four#st4#st4 theory#byler headcanon#byler playlist#st s4 prom theory#st4 speculation
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Them asking for consent (Hyung Line)
Hello again! I recently had the ‘talk’ with my little sister. Just the usual, safety, consent, etc. I realised a few my readers may be younger too, around 15 or 16, which is why I beleive it is essential to learn about, understand and talk about important topics such as consent. I will be later on linking a guide to these important yet taboo topics such as contraceptives, consent, pleasure, relationships, etc. so please stay tuned and stay educated. That’s all from me, please enjoy!
Word count: 2.4k
Genre : Angst + Fluff
Hongjoong:
You and Hongjoong had been in a relationship for not too long, maybe 4-5 months at max. Your favourite part of your relationship was how considerate he was. He would always ask before doing initiating anything and was very gentle with you. Despite this, at times you felt that your relationship might have been moving a little too slow. You knew your feelings for him were genuine and you wanted to become more intimate.
You tried to convey what you felt in a subtle way, by kissing him for longer at times and not pulling away, by adding tongue into your kisses, which he reciprocated, but then pulled away shyly after a few seconds. You came over to his house early in the morning just to make him breakfast in bed and to see is adorable morning messy hair. You back-hugged him in the morning, circling your hands around his waist running them along his sides, only for him to giggle and turn around, pecking your nose, and then return to what he was doing originally. You gave his head massages scraping your nails against his scalp and putting pressure on certain points, and although you thought it wasn’t working, he once sensually groaned, and you thought you were getting somewhere, only for him to apologise and leave.
Despite all the various attempts on numerous occasions to initiate more intimate contact, he would usually shy away or wouldn’t reciprocate it, so you felt guilty for making him feel uncomfortable. After a week or so of trying, you gave up and resumed your normal lifestyle. To your surprise, Hongjoong actually enjoyed the past week more than he would like to admit and once you stopped doing all those little things, he felt empty, and realised he wanted this too.
There was this once when the both of you were at your house and you were at a kitchen counter making some popcorn to eat for a movie. Just as you were done, you felt two big arms, engulfing you, wrapping around your waist. You looked to the side and it was Hongjoong. He pressed a kiss to your head and although on the outside you were calm, on the inside you almost lost it. You turned around in his embrace and pecked his soft lips shortly.
“What is all this?” You said giggling
“Y/n, I think I’m ready to move on to the next stage of our relationship” He said, and your eyes lit up. A big smile erupted on your face and he reciprocated it too.
“Are you sure?” You asked him and he nodded, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. He then held both of your hands with his bigger, warmer ones and led you to the bedroom. He sat down, and made you sit in his lap. You were straddling him and could feel him completely.
“Y/n, I know I want this, but do you? I never really asked you. Are you okay with this?” He asked all of a sudden. You nodded and pecked his forehead.
“If you feel uncomfortable at any point of time, you can tell me okay? Just tap on my shoulder 3 times and I’ll stop immediately okay?” He said, hands holding your face. You just smiled in return, locking lips with him, mumbling an okay in between.
Finally, it was time...
“Y/n, can I touch you?” He asked softly, and you almost exploded from the gentleness in his voice.
“Yes hun, thank you for being so gentle” You smiled back at him. He slowly glided his hands under your shirt, not making contact yet, looking up at your eyes one last time. You nodded, and he finally grazed his fingers along your stomach, chills went down your spine anticipating what the rest of the night was going to be like.
Seonghwa:
You and Seonghwa had been dating for over 4 years, but he still never forgot to ask for your approval. You were a little shy, which gave him all the more reason to constantly check if the pace of your relationship was alright.
You had gone to Paris on vacation as a getaway, to take time away from both of your stressful lifestyles. This was much needed for the both of you and you had quite a lot on your agendas. Your final destination was the Eiffel tower, how romantic. It was night time, and quite late. At this time, not a lot of people were actually on the Eiffel tower and were instead viewing from below (this usually does not happen, but just imagine that you got lucky). You thought it was the perfect time to go, as you’d both get the privacy you wanted and would be able to enjoy the beautiful Parisian night view from above. You made your way to the top with the tour guide, and he left you both alone at the top. It was quite cold and you began to shiver, so he offered his jacket, to which you declined and just rubbed your hands. The cold air was after all, a part of the experience. He just laughed at your cuteness and got out his phone.
He snapped a pic secretly while you were looking out at the view, and reviewed it, blushing at the way your hair blew back and your face was illuminated by the lights from below showing off your cute, astonished smile. While you were looking out, you slowly, noticed him snaking his arms around your waist and you just laughed, used to these little moments. You inhaled his scent and leaned into him.
“I’m so happy to be here with you” He whispered into your hair
“Me too” You said back and the both of you stayed in that position for a little longer, swaying from side to side slightly. After a while, you started shivering again, and he realised it was probably best to go back. Although this memory was quite short, it would be quite memorable. Before leaving though, he did have one thing on his bucket list, that he couldn’t leave without doing.
He swiftly turned you around in his embrace to face him, and held both of your hands, staring into your eyes.
“Y/n, I love you so much, and I’m so glad to be here with you right now, you don’t understand how happy you make me, and I’m so lucky to wake up to you every morning...” He said pausing to take a breath in. Meanwhile, this was all too much for you. This romantic setting, being in the arms of your lover and his loving words that hit you like a truck, and soon enough you started crying.
“Noooo, why are you cryingg?” He whined, wiping your tears. You just laughed and shook your head. He gasped and then realised.
“Wait, you don’t think I’m proposing to you, do you? I’m not just yet don’t worry?” You just hit his shoulder and mumbled an “I know” through your tears
“I don’t think words will ever be able to describe how much I love you” He said rubbing his nose against yours and you almost died inside from the cheesiness. He grabbed your face with both hands and made you face him.
“Can I kiss you?” He asked softly. You just laughed at the way he still asked for permission even after 4 years of dating. You nodded your head, and he inched closer until you both locked lips. Despite dating for over 4 years, sparks flew every time you kissed. He grazed his tongue gently against your bottom lip asking for entry and you allowed him, deepening the kiss. He explored your mouth and even made contact with your tongue. You lips locked together perfectly as if they were made for each other and you couldn’t have wished for a better experience than this, romantically locking lips with your lover atop the Eiffel tower.
Yunho:
You and Yunho had been dating for around 2 years or so and had started getting quite comfortable in your relationship. Being merely strangers after meeting on a dating app, the idea of sex never really came up over the past few month. Now however, you were definitely not strangers and Yunho was starting to feel emotions and feelings he couldn’t describe. You on the other hand, were quite happy with the pace of your relationship and didn’t notice anything wrong.
All of a sudden, after being gone for an entire week, for filming a camping series with ateez, he realised how much he missed you. He came back and when he was greeted by you wearing nothing but his top and some underwear, with your gray bra visible, he started to understand these feelings. It was lust, desire and need. You noticed how he would get a little closer than usual and kissed you for longer. You loved the attention, but knew something was off.
After he had kissed you against the kitchen counter for what felt like the 20th time, you confronted him.
“Yunho-yah, did you really miss me this much” You said, with an innocent smile plastered on your face. Yunho smiled even bigger than you and rubbed you cheek with his palm.
“I want to tell you something, follow me” He held your hand and dragged you to the couch, sitting you down facing him.
“What is it? Is everything alright?” You said a a little worried.
“Yes, well, I don’t know... Y/n... I hope you won’t judge me when I say this, but I know we’ve been dating for a while and I just wanted to know if you’re ready” He said cautiously
“Ready for what?” You asked nonchalantly, fixing a strand of his hair
“Ready to have sex with me” He whispered, a little unsure
“oh” was the only thing you managed to get out.
“It’s totally alright if you don’t want to just yet, I just want to know how you feel.” He said grabbing ahold of your hands, but you flinched away and he immediately felt guilty for bringing up the topic.
“No, no I want to, I want to be intimate with you, it’s just can we give it some time? This is a little much to process, and I would love to have my first time with you, but I just- I just don’t think I’m ready yet, I’m sorry” You said, looking down feeling guilty for turning him down life that.
“No, no please don’t apologise hun, take your time, I’m sorry I brought it up” He said. He gave you your own time and space to process it, but opened his arms wide for a hug and you gladly accepted, snuggling into his embrace, he kissed your head and you fell asleep.
The fact that you didn’t rush it only made your first time more special. It was on a holiday after a few more months of dating and approval of the relationship from both your parents too. The setting was perfect too, he had booked a private villa near the beach and you were so grateful. He took his time and consistently asked if you were okay. You agreed and were thankful to have waited a little longer, because now you were a 100% sure and were able to show all your love.
Yeosang:
You and Yeosang had met recently through a mutual friend and were on your 5th or 6th date. By this point, you were comfortable enough to have invited him over to your house to watch a movie together, nothing too extreme. It was a movie that you found out he was actually waiting for, so when he arrived and saw the choice of movie, he immediately got excited.
Throughout the first hour, you both were slightly awkward, as he kept watching the movie, not concentrating on you, while you couldn’t get your eyes off of him. You stared at his perfect jawline, and his dimly lit face, that cast harsh shadows of his nose and lips, outlining their perfect shape. You unintentionally sighed, from the lack of attention, and he immediately looked at you. He panicked wondering what was wrong. He saw how you had your arms folded and mouth in a pout and realised you were upset. When you looked back at him and he was still looking at you, you immediately blushed and he realised what you wanted. He opened his arms, ushering you to scoot closer and snuggle into him, to which you smiled at the offer. You gladly accepted, snuggling into his embrace taking in his scent. After a while, you started to get sleepy though, and couldn't help yourself but fall asleep in his comfortable embrace. Meanwhile, he kept watching the movie and when realised you had fallen asleep, a look of pure adoration was evident on his face. He took his phone and snapped a few pics of you secretly, while you were snuggled into him.
He observed the way your eyes were fluttered shut, long eyelashes frayed on your cheeks and your messy hair, snuggled into his embrace. He set the picture as his wallpaper and fell asleep onto you too. About an hour later, the both of you woke up, only to see the movie was over, and you both were snuggled into each other, face merely inches apart. You moved closer to his lips, looking back up into his eyes and he nodded. You pressed a long kiss to his soft lips and he smiled into the kiss.
He got up and you saw a notification pop up on his screen, only to be greeted by your sleeping figure as his wallpaper. He panicked and tried to defend himself.
“I’m sorry, I took a photo of you secretly, I should have asked before, I probably seem like such a creep I’m sorry, I can remove it if you’d like” He rambled.
“No, no, I actually find it quite cute that you have a picture of me as your wallpaper. Thank you for clarifying with me though, I appreciate that you asked me if was alright to have my photo, especially since, I kind of need to prepare beforehand, I look weird in candid photos” you laughed and he held your hands.
“Y/n, I think you look good all the time so please don’t think otherwise, but don’t worry, I won’t take photos if you don’t want me to” He said. You just shook your hand dismissing him and snuggled back into his embrace.
“It’s alright Yeo, I actually like it, so don’t worry” You whispered into his neck and he got chills immediately.
You just chuckled at his cuteness and appreciated the fact that he asked if you were okay with him taking the photos.
#ateez x reader#ateez ff#ateezff#hongjoong#seonghwa#yunho#yeosang#ateez angst#ateez fluff#ateez fanfic
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Hi Gina :) this isn't really anything having to do with all the pics going on recently, I just wanted to pop in and ask if (besides the obvious one being your tumblr header) you have any favorite quotes that come to mind from any of the larry fics you've read? I've started making a list of some that I find beautiful whenever I read a new one and wondered if you might have some too! You're an incredible writer so I thought you might have an eye for them :)
You know, there used to be a blog dedicated to that, but I can’t remember the url anymore and I think they’re gone anyway, but yeah... I do have some that I love. I used to be much better about saving them... so these are old, but it’s still some gorgeous writing IMO.
“You look like flowers,” Louis whispers softly. “A meadow. Somewhere warm and colorful and all my own, where I go to be all by myself. And you look like my favorite book with the tea-stained pages, all the highlighted parts that speak to me in ways other books just don’t. You look like a bonfire, the brightest thing around, so bright I can’t look at anything else. And you look like silk, and softness, and happiness. That’s what you look like.” - Hiding Place by alivingfire
“Except I wouldn’t want to keep you, would I?” Louis’ smile instantly dips a little, finger withdrawing, but Harry clasps his wrist, holding it to his chest. “I wouldn’t want to keep you, because I’d make you want to stay.” - A Red-Dusted Planet by onewasturning
Louis slips their fingers together, slotting between the gaps and curling around his like a possum’s tail around a branch. - A Red-Dusted Planet
Louis is looking up at him, and his eyes are as bright as the moon and the projector light flickering through the window, and it’s like Harry has caught starlight in his hands, something like a wish, a hope, shot straight through the night and burning into the fate lines of his palms. - A Red-Dusted Planet
He smiles down at him, all rosy-appled cheeks, and he’s so beautiful, Harry thinks he must have been magicked from the sky itself. Thinks he can still see remnants of the storm spinning in his eyes. - These Roads We Stumble Down by onewasturning
It makes all the sense in the bloody world and the realization cracks over Louis’ head like an egg, dripping down his neck and trailing down to his toes. - The Actor by mizzwilde
"If you were nobody, and had nothing, and were going nowhere at all, I'd go nowhere with you and make it somewhere. And yeah, I'd still want you. Fuck," he laughs, rough into Louis’ mouth. "'Course I'd still want you. You're like, you're like everything. You make me feel everything." - Little Technicolor Things by scarycrow
Instead, he wonders if it’s possible at all to miss something he’s never had. If the tall boy with his long fingers brushing against the turn of Louis’ ankle was supposed to have been in Louis’ life ages ago but the author forgot to write him in when he had meant to, if maybe that’s why Louis is falling into him so quickly, because he’s trying to make up for lost time, trying to catch up. If maybe that’s why Louis’ life has been so off lately. - Little Technicolor Things
He imagines a world where it’s possible to drag someone back in time, one where time is a two-way street and he can grab Harry’s hand and pull him along until they’re stumbling breathless into the past, into the empty days Louis spent alone and filling those days with Harry—with morning breakfasts and paintings and summer-sun smiles, with cheeks dimpled in laughter. - Little Technicolor Things
“Nothing, just,” Harry starts. He laughs a little, and Louis looks up at him solely because he doesn’t want to miss the way his eyes crinkle when he does. He looks like he’s about to say something else, but then he just shakes his head again and dips to plant a light kiss on Louis’ cheek. “Nothing,” he repeats, and Louis wonders what nothing really means. - Little Technicolor Things
He learns quite a few things about Harry, really, but the one that stands out to him the most is this: Harry is soft. He isn’t soft in a bad way, in the way people these days throw the word around and use it to mean weak and frail and scared. He’s soft like spider webs are soft, like cashmere is soft and the music you fall asleep to is soft. He’s soft when he reaches out slowly across the carpet and touches two fingers to Louis’ wrist without looking at him, soft when he hums along to the songs on the playlist Louis made, soft when he licks his finger and waggles his eyebrows and turns the page of a book, carefully, carefully carefully. Softly, softly, softly. And because he’s soft, he’s brave. Or at least that’s what Louis sees when he looks at him, when he hears him talk about how scared he was moving to London, how angry he was when his dad left, how terrifying the idea of living on his own instead of in a dorm with other university students was. - Little Technicolor Things
Harry does, but not before grinning wide and easy, his arms moving to bracket Louis’ body against the dresser, and Louis melts into him like the winter melts into the spring. His mouth is warm and velvet-y, tongue heavy in Louis’ mouth. The kiss doesn’t feel forgettable right now, but Louis kind of hopes that it is. He hopes that their future is filled with so many kisses that this one is nothing more than one out of a thousand, each one better than the last, that Louis kisses Harry and Harry kisses Louis so many times that the only time he’ll ever remember this kiss is in the middle of some winter night, when he dreams about it and wakes up in the dark, before curling into the curly-haired boy lying next to him and dreaming about the next kiss. - Little Technicolor Things
He thinks that’s kissing Harry is like turning a dial: where everything is cold, now there’s only warmth; where everything was dark, now there’s only light; where everything was bleak, now there’s life, blooming like the blossoms on Cherry trees, blushing pink and white with awaking. With waking up. Harry wakes Louis up. - Little Technicolor Things
There is so much music in you: bare feet against the floor, the sandpaper glide of your palm on the stair rail, of your skin against mine, of your ceaseless fingers tapping at the table. He's music, Louis thinks. I'm in love with a song. Little Technicolor Things
(clearly, I adore this fic)
And that’s what Harry hates, Louis knows, because black has always had a connotation with death, and despair, and disease. It’s never been associated with good things, happy things.
But there’s more, too. Because Harry isn’t a demon who was twisted into darkness when he was still human; he chose darkness, a self-sacrifice. His soul is black but in the same way the night sky is black: deep and endless, sprinkled with bits of light. Sparkle. Vast and overwhelming, containing the possibilities for anything.
It’s black like panther fur is black, shifting blues and purples when the light hits a splay of powerful muscle. It’s black like an eclipsed moon. Black like tattoo ink. The blackness has meaning; the blackness is meaning: it hides speckles of brilliance in its depths, adds contrast to the bronze braids of hope and faith in Harry’s soul, the harp strings of kindness buried inside him that the sin could never touch. - Say Hallelujah, Say Goodnight by alivingfire
I’m sure I have others... but these are the ones I came across first. Thank you for the great ask. It’s refreshing! LOL. And thank you for the wonderful compliment. It means a lot. 💜
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Trip to the store with Tom and Harry
*This is actually part of a chapter of something I've been writing for myself, just for fun. Basically, the reader is staying with them for the weekend, things are still pretty recent with Tom, she's famous too, whatever, whatever... there are 15 chapters tho (48k + words)! This blurp doesn't contain smut, but the others do, so let me know if you like this, and I might post the full series.
Minor warning: people taking unsolicited pictures, panic attack foreshadowing. Also, this is in a world pre-pandemic (the series happens in June 2019) that's why no maks. But you live in 2021, so please wear yours!
Overall, just pure fluffiness and brother's bickering. Enjoy and please, please give me your feedback!
This is 2k+ words, btw
*edit! I did it you guys, here's chapter 1 of the whole series
“Just leave it, baby” Tom calls out when I get up from the breakfast table taking the dishes to the sink to wash them.
“It’s fine, just a couple plates” I say already washing them. “You wanna go to the store now or later?”
“Let’s go now” Tom says.
“I call shotgun!” Harry announces.
“Absolutely not! I’m driving and(y/n)'s my-” I keep my ear open for the end of that sentence, which apparently won’t be coming out because Harry starts to laugh and I can tell Tom wants to kill him for that. I just shake my head and keep washing the plates, pretending I didn’t hear anything.
We go back to his room to brush our teeth before heading out and I consider changing my clothes, but decide this is fine (out of laziness). Tom changes into a pair of joggers and shirt, he looks like he’s going to work out, but handsome as always. I wonder if he’s going to wear the cap and sunglasses that he keeps on his car for quick disguise. He grabs his wallet and the car keys and we’re heading out when I remember my wallet.
“Hold on, forgot my wallet” I say going back the hallway.
“What you need your wallet for?” He asks when I get back, he was waiting for me at the end of the corridor. We go down the stairs, Harry is already there waiting, flipping through his phone.
“You see, a wallet is where you keep your money and these plastic card thingies, which are like money, but virtual. Money is something you need to give the people at the store-”
“Alright smart ass, I get it. You won’t need to buy anything, it’s what I’m saying”
“Please don’t get him started” Harry pleads with me when we get outside the door.
“What?” I laugh. Tom unlocks the car and I go straight to the backseat, trying to avoid another awkward sitting discussion.
“Tom insists he pays for everything around the house. Part of the reason why we go grocery shopping without him” Harry says from the front seat. “He’s pretty good at making money, got admit. But terrible at managing it, the lads don’t even pay rent!”
“Would you like to pay rent?” Tom asks, reversing the car and taking a glance at me, winking.
“I’m your brother! Dealing with you IS my rent” I laugh the whole way to the store at their banter about money, the radio, the car temperature. I catch glances at Tom through the rear mirror, smiling every time he sees me watching him.
“Why are we here? I though it was only food” Harry asks with an annoyed voice when Tom turned to get in a parking lot.
“We’re getting other stuff too” Tom explains, parking and getting out of the car, taking my hand. He didn’t get his cap and sunglasses. We left the car at a parking lot and walked to a discreet door that read ‘collect by car’, was this some kind of celebrity special entrance? We take an elevator and when it opens it’s like a mall, or a department store. A fancy Target, I’d say. ‘Marks & Spencer’. Uh…very British. Harry takes a cart and Tom gets another. I follow Tom but notice that Harry goes solo on his shopping trip. Tom’s still holding my hand and I look around to see if anyone’s watching but apparently not. “Let’s look at the blown dryers first, huh?” He says and I nod, following his lead.
When we get to the beauty tools section (is that what they call it?) Tom reaches for the fancy, expensive blow dryer models and I reach for the travel-sized ones. I look at him smiling. “You were thinking about getting a blown dryer for the house, weren’t you?”
“Weren’t you?”
“Tom, you’re seriously buying a blown dryer just because I asked to borrow one?” I laugh at him.
“I could use one too, you know? It’s not just for when you come around” He says in a tone that gives away he was thinking exactly the opposite.
“Okay then. Not that brand, though. This one” I put back the travel size and step closer to him to look at the models, reading the boxes and considering the options. When we settle for one he puts it on the cart and we keep walking through the store, reaching the products section. “Shampoo” I indicate, walking towards the shelf with all the options.
“Hi, can I help you guys?” A store attendant asks approaching us.
“Hi” I say smiling at her. “Just looking for some shampoo and conditioner”
“Something specific?”
“Not rubbish” Tom jokes. And she looks confused.
“He uses Head & Shoulders and is offended I called it rubbish” I explain to her laughing.
“Oh…that’s not good” She grimaces and Tom shakes his head.
“I know! Thank you! It doesn’t have to be anything fancy…I don’t know any of these brands though…” Me and the attendant start talking about shampoo and Tom zones out, looking around. When I finally pick one, along with conditioner, hair mask and styling gel I put it all in the cart and thank her. Tom was looking at a shelf with bath products, bath salts and bombs.
“Hi” I step to his side.
“Bath bomb? Doesn’t sound very relaxing” I laugh at that. Boys. When I was going to explain it to him two girls approach us.
“Hi, Tom!” One of them says, blushing furiously.
“Uh…hi!” He answers, slightly startled. “How’s it going?” He recovers his composure.
“Fine…Uh, is it ok if we ask you for a selfie?”
“Sure, no problem” He smiles. They look in between him and I.
“Could you take one, (y/n)?” Does she mean with me, or she want’s me to take the picture?
“Sure, give me your phone” I say reaching for her phone. And they laugh nervously.
“We meant with us”
“Oh, yeah” I laugh. “Course” Tom is watching and laughing at me. “But do you want me to take one of you guys with him too? So you don’t have only selfies”
“Oh would you? Thank you!” They say giving me their phones and posing along him. He keeps staring at you the whole time. I snap multiple pics with both phones and give them back to them.
“See what you think” I gave their phones back.
“Oh it’s great! Thank you”
“You didn’t even look at it. What if she’s a shitty photographer?” Tom laughs.
“Excuse me? I’m a great photographer” I answered him. “I bet the one’s you take won’t look so great” I said posing with the girls, who were just staring at the two of us in awe. I smiled while Tom snapped the pics and then he gave their phones back.
“Thank you!” One of them smiled.
“Yeah thank you!” They were walking away when one of them looked back and shouted. “You guys are really cute together!” And they sprinted away laughing.
“Teenagers” Tom says shaking his head and laughing.
“Don’t know, we ARE really cute together” You tease him, poking his side.
“I know, wasn’t disagreeing” He says defensively. “You can’t make every fan encounter this long though, or else you’re never gonna get anything done”
“Okay grandpa” You laugh. “Common, it didn’t even take that long”
“Not this time. Probably made their day, though” He says. “Just don’t get frustrated if every fan isn’t this nice”
“I don’t expect them to be. It’s just, they liked whatever we do and it’s part of their lives. Doesn’t cost anything to be nice, and besides, it’s a positive reinforcement. Next time they need courage to do something, it’ll be easier for them. People make too much fuss about celebrities, but like, asking a date out is way scarier and more common” Tom just smiled and shakes his head. “What?”
“I really love your mind, you know?”
“What did I said?”
“The positive reinforcement thing. I though you were going to say we’re leaving a good impression” You scoff.
“Bath bombs” I say trying to change the subject. “It’s like aspirin, for your bath. They’re really nice, wanna pick some?” He nods picking one up and trying to smell them. You guys joke around and pick some bath bombs as well as some bubbles and shower gel. “We got so much stuff” I say looking at the cart.
“Only essentials” He says and kiss me on the cheek. “I like this, get used to it”
“What?”
“Spoiling you. I’m like a sugar daddy”
“Oh my god, you didn’t just say that” I laugh. “That makes me a toiletries sugar baby” He laughs and pushes the cart along the corridor. We find Harry on the beverages section, picking up some beer boxes.
“So much for groceries” Tom says looking at his cart. Chips, candy, beer and milk. We get a few more items like some fruits and vegetables, yogurt, eggs and of course a bunch of ready meals, which seem to be a must for them.
“You guys don’t cook much, do you?” I joke.
“Only when Sam’s around. Which then he cook’s for us, of course” Harry answers and I laugh.
“Is he at school?” I ask.
“Cooking school. In Paris” Harry tells me, putting the groceries on the cashier belt.
“That’s so cool” I look at Tom. “That’s really cool”
“I know. Wait, are you really more impressed by my younger-chef-brother than my acting career?” He laughs.
“I mean…” I shrug and Harry laughs at us. We see a flash and turn our heads at the same time to the woman on the line behind us, who had her phone pointed to us. I look down and Tom puts his arm around me. “She’s taking pics” I whisper to him getting out of his embrace.
“So?” He says and puts his hand on my back, standing with his back to her in front of me. Harry hurries up and finishes putting the groceries on the belt, bagging everything up. I go to help him while Tom pays for our shopping. We put the stuff back on a cart and get out of the store. When we get out of the elevator and in the parking lot again, I hear Tom saying to Harry ‘Ride on the back now, yeah?’. We put everything on the trunk and Harry gets on the backseat, so I get on the passenger seat. Tom starts to drive and takes my hand laying on my thigh, he rubs his thumb over the back of my hand and I’m glad he’s being mindful because these encounters with paparazzi and random people taking pics really stress me out.
“I don’t really mind taking photos” I say out of the blue. “When they introduce themselves and ask for it”
“It’s so disrespectful, pisses me off” Harry agrees. “Like, you want a photo? Fine, just ask for it. You don’t simply snap photos of random people on the street, what makes you think you have the right to do it if you saw the person on a movie before?”
“We only saw that because the flash was on too. Makes me think of all the times I never see it. Like you’re always being watched. It’s…” Scary? Stressful? An invasion of privacy? All of the above?
“I’m sorry” Tom says, tightening his grip on my hand.
“It’s not your fault” I say.
“I’m still sorry” I give him a half smile. Nothing we can do about it, is there?
“Nice record Tom, where did you get it?” Harry asked lifting the Lime Cordiale record I bought Tom at Camden.
“That’s (y/n)'s” He says.
“I bought it for you” I smile.
“What? Did you?” I bit my lip smiling and nod. “I’m an idiot, sorry”
“That you are. An ungrateful idiot apparently” Harry says.
“It’s ok” I give Harry a glare. “It’s ok, really” I repeat looking over at Tom. “As long as you listen to them now”
“I will, promise” He smiles and lifts my hand to kiss it. Harry makes a gaging sound and I just laugh.
#tom holland#Tom Holland fanfic#tom holland one shot#tom holland imagine#tom holland blurp#Harry Holland#tom holland fanfiction#tom holland x fem#tom holland x you
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the most magical place in hell
Grouping: (For Science) Reader x JK
Word Count: ~3.1k
Warnings/Themes: implied sex, 5 is a crowd annoying friends since that’s the vibe these days, d*sn*y please don’t sue
Prompt: “For Science, I miss this couple sm. Any scenario would be fantastic! For inspo, did JK and OC get to go on a vacation, (jk expressed he wanted to in his journal) if so how did that go? Any fun new experiments?”
A/N: This commissioned fic is part of the Changes with Luv project, hosted by FicsWithLuv. Here you can find more information about the project, cause, places to donate, and ways to commission a piece or offer your services if you are a content creator. Thank you!
On the third day of the cruise, Jungkook rolls over in his sleep. His hand reaches for you. His palm meets the bare skin of your shoulder already moving despite how pale the morning light is under his lashes.
“What’s happening,” he mumbles before grabbing more greedily at you. There’s not too much resistance as you let yourself be dragged a few inches across the sheets.
“We have to get up. Breakfast starts in 10 minutes, remember?”
You lean down to press a peck just above his brow bone and he groans. As you pull away, there’s a sweet waft that hits him and lets him know you’ve already showered and gotten ready. Now it’s his turn.
He gives himself just until you gather your things and shut the door to the room. Then he’s pulling himself out of bed with every ounce of energy he has left. He brushes his teeth with his eyes closed, does a perfunctory shower with the lights off like it’ll give him some more sleep. But he’s still dead tired as he throws on an outfit and heads out the door.
The walk to the dining area was exciting 3 days ago. The decadent decor, the view from the high balcony separating his floor from the others, the grand 20’s style atrium with Mickey Mouse memorabilia incorporated throughout. Everything used to be exciting 3 days ago. Sadly, the first day passed and things quickly lost their charm.
As he scoops a smiley-face omelette onto his plate in the buffet line, he searches for your face in the crowd of families scarfing down their first meals of the day so they can take their kids to the waterfall pool on deck 6. By the time he reaches the end of the line, there’s still no sight of you among the tables. So he ventures outdoors where there’s less seating but considerably more sun. He thinks back to his quick routine in the room. Did he remember to put on sunscreen?
When he finds you, you’re stretched out on a beach chair and taking in some of the sun. His mood is partially lifted when he sees just how content you look getting warmed like a lizard on a rock in your tiny bikini. He stands over you deliberately just to see you pout and pull down your sunglasses with a huff.
“Oh, it’s just you.”
“Who’d you think it was?”
“I thought it was Hoseok about to ask me to take his profile pic again.”
Jungkook chuckles a little before sitting in the open seat next to you. “Couldn’t have been him. Too early.”
“That’s true.” You sit up then, peering at his plate. “What’d you get us?”
“Us?” His smile is warm. “I thought you’d have eaten by now with the way you left the room.”
“I was looking for an empty spot for us. It was your job to find the actual food.”
“No one else would willingly wake up this early,” he cuts a fraction of the omelette before holding the bite up to you. “But I guess it’s only fair.”
You open your mouth happily.
“Permission to board the S.S. girlfriend?”
“Are you serious?”
“I’m wasting fuel in the port,” he continues to hover the fork just outside your reach, even when you jump forward with a nip.
“Permission to board,” you grumble.
He laughs like you told a great joke and gently feeds you the bite. With soft eyes, he watches you point to different things on the plate and dutifully feeds you your fill. This might be the first time he’s been able to spend a few moments alone with you since the five of you got on the cruise. He finishes up the bit of toast you couldn’t finish and the few blueberries that didn’t interest you. He must be staring because you turn to him in your reclined position and return the favor.
“You’re looking a little red. Did you put on sunscreen?”
“I think I forgot. I was trying to get ready fast so you wouldn’t have to sit around alone.”
“I wasn’t alone,” you reach into the bag you brought for sunscreen. “Yoori was with me. She left for the gym maybe 2 minutes before you came out here.”
“Oh,” is all he says.
Jungkook scowls a bit as you rub the lotion onto his face. That Yoori and Hoseok, and probably even Taehyung, might be spending more time with you on this trip than him is starting to be the horrible icing on this shitty vacation cake.
“Why don’t we take some time to—” He begins but a large shadow looming over the two of you makes him stop in his tracks.
“Hey,” a man with thick blond hair and even thicker muscles nods down at you. “You were at the adult lounge last night, right?”
Jungkook’s mouth drops open. Thor—or the actor who plays him during the Marvel day activities—has come up to your spot. He’s got the Ragnorok breastplate on with board shorts adorning his chiseled lower half. From the top up, he looks just like the real thing.
“Wow. Yeah I was, I’m surprised you remember,” you hold a hand over your eyes so you can look up at “Thor”.
“How could I forget. You and your beautiful friend were quite the sight yesterday.”
“Oh, uh. Thanks.”
In all his excitement, he overlooks the flirting. Jungkook stands up from his seat then and sticks out his hand. “Thor” shakes it hesitantly.
“Hey. I know you’re not the real thing, but it’s great to see you. I wasn’t at the adult lounge last night, so we didn’t get to meet.”
Jungkook makes sure to puff out his chest so “Thor” will notice the print of his button down shirt. Tiny little hammers.
“Do you like the shirt?” He beams.
“Thor” squints down at the animated hammers.
“I can’t say I really know what’s on it, but sure.”
“They’re...they’re Mjölnirs.”
“Mole-whats?”
You gasp, clapping your hands over your mouth.
Jungkook drops “Thor”’s hand at the same moment, disappointment turning down the corners of his mouth.
“Nothing. They’re just drawings. Have a good day, man.”
“Thor” chuckles before looking back down at you. “Cute kid,” he says before sending you a wink and making some comment about getting to rehearsal.
Yoori returns from the gym that moment, nearly running into “Thor”. He gives her an appreciative once over which she returns smugly. Her expression changes as she approaches you and Jungkook looking like you had both seen a car crash.
“What’s up?”
“Nothing,” you respond quickly with a subtle look at the back of Jungkook’s head to tell her ‘not now’.
“Well,” she plops down on the end of Jungkook’s beach chair, “How was breakfast?”
“It was fine,” Jungkook sighs and scoots back so she’ll have some room. “We finished a little while ago. Now we’re just making plans for the rest of the morning.”
“Couple stuff...I’ll go get myself a plate, then.”
You wait until Yoori’s disappeared into the dining area to turn to Jungkook. He doesn’t look angry per se. Just resigned.
“What were you saying before?”
“Hmm,” his eyes are far away, “I was just saying we could take some time to ourselves.”
He wants to say he feels like he’s barely seen you since he stepped on the ship, but he doesn’t want to make you feel bad. The funny thing is that you weren’t even looking forward to the trip before the first day. The tickets for this Marvel cruise were a last minute gamble. You had dropped many not-so-subtle hints about wanting to go somewhere a little less kid-friendly, but he’d waited until the last minute.
At first it seemed like the best possible last choice a person could have. You were all fans of the comics and movies with the exception of Taehyung and Yoori. Taehyung was more of a DC fan and Yoori just sort of let the movies wash over her. You’d been worried that the week would be torture for you with all the screaming kids around. But you were actually having the time of your life. Meanwhile Jungkook was having a less than ideal time.
“Sure. Like what?”
“Maybe we could relax? I’ve had research video meetings the last two nights, so I haven’t really been up for the late night stuff. And I’m just barely up for the morning stuff.”
“Hmm. What about the spa? I haven’t been there yet and it’s on my list.”
“The spa?” Yoori comes out with a mountain of waffles and rumpled-looking Taehyung and Hoseok behind her. “Yeah, let’s go to the spa!”
“Actually, I think Kook just wanted to—”
“I heard it’s actually pretty decent on this boat. They have a hot rock massage where all of the rocks look like the Tinman’s suit.”
“The Tinman,” Jungkook practically chokes.
“I think she means Iron Man,” Hoseok grins sleepily. “Anyway, I’m down for the spa thing too. Never too early to have a tiny lady go in on my thighs.”
“You’re literally so nasty,” Yoori glares back at him.
As your other friends bicker, you flash Jungkook an apologetic look. He shrugs because that’s easier than fighting it. He relishes the second plate of food you get for him and lets you feed him the bites in between kisses and mini-reapplications of sunscreen. It’s all the rest he gets that day. The spa is probably the least relaxing moment of his life.
He doesn’t even get to sit near you. Instead, he gets roped into the men’s section where Hoseok’s tiny lady goes too hard on his thighs and the resulting yelps make Jungkook’s ear drums pound. Taehyung falls asleep two minutes into the Iron Man hot rock massage and snores in a way that’s nearly identical to the 60 year old guests napping nearby.
You emerge from the women’s section with Yoori looking like you’d smell and feel like a rose petal. But Jungkook doesn’t ever find out if you do, because he’s being thrown right back into more “fun”. Somewhere in the back of his mind—between Black Widow meet and greet and the Ant-Man lunch show—he thinks that he would probably be having actual fun if he had some time to breathe. Although, he figures it’s enough to just breathe you in. He feels slightly less drained looking at your smiling face and wide eyes as a wild Hulk appears behind you at the pool after lunch, spraying you lighty with comically huge muscles and a comically tiny water gun.
“You’re not coming?”
Jungkook groans, partly out of guilt and partly out of exhaustion. It’s nearing 10:30 at night and you’re getting ready to go to the adult lounge again. This time it’s for all-things-Spiderman trivia and drinks. He wants to want to go. But he can’t find the strength. He figures too much sun and too much socialization is the answer.
“You’re not staying,” he counters as he does his best to sit up in bed. There’s a nice soft glow bleeding in from the giant picture window of the suite that looks onto the water and there’s some Loki pajamas calling his name. Your tight little dress is calling to him too. I’d look better on the floor, it says.
“I figured this would be a lot more lowkey than everything else we’ve done today. There’s no water and no noisy families. Or screaming Hoseoks.”
“You heard that earlier?”
“I did,” you grimace. “He must have really pissed off that masseuse.”
“I’m pretty sure he just talked with her like he talks normally.”
“Can’t fault her for that, then.”
There’s a beat of silence as you test the security of some strappy heels. Naturally your eyes wander from the shoes to your boyfriend. He’s tapping away at some emails on the ship’s slow wifi no doubt. If you couldn’t tell how tired he was from the slope of his shoulders and the bruise-like shadows under his eyes, the giant yawn he barely stifles is a giveaway.
“Maybe I could just—”
The door to your suite swings open, revealing Taehyung looking frightened in a silky peach button down as Yoori pinches Hoseok’s ear.
“You’re coming, right? Please tell me you’re coming.”
“She’s coming,” Jungkook pipes up from the bed. His eyes never leave the screen of the computer as he types away, but he blinks slow and long. Your heart aches a little.
Taehyung breathes out a sigh of relief and links arms with you. You get one last look at your exhausted boyfriend before you’re pulled out of the room entirely.
“Do you think they’ll even bother asking about the Garfield version?” Taehyung’s question shakes you out of your worry.
“Pfft, no.”
On the fourth day of the cruise, Jungkook is awakened earlier than he wants yet again. A large clap of thunder and the bolt of lightning flash from the other side of the window. He crawls quietly around your sleeping form and throws on his glasses. There’s heavy rain too—a sure sign that the pools and sundecks will be closed. Out of habit, he checks his email and sees a message from the ship coordinator.
Esteemed Guests,
As some of you may know, two performers at last night’s dinner show in House of Mouse theatre (Deck 5, room 6B) showed signs of a stomach bug during the performances. For the safety of the rest of the cast, staff, and guests, we will be postponing today’s shows to sanitize the performance rooms and allow the actors time to recover. Room service will still be available.
We know this is a large inconvenience, and to thank you for understanding, please check your trip accounts for a refund for today’s fares. Additionally...
Jungkook can’t help the fist pump and small hoot he lets out. The email gives him the same feeling he gets on those days when he wakes up hours before his alarm only to discover his professor had cancelled class for the day. With a skip in his step, he returns to bed.
When he wakes up hours later, it’s natural. You’re still spooned to him, still soft and warm and pliant in sleep. He runs the tip of his nose along your neck while the fog of sleep lifts. The smell of your soap and skin is warmed with sleep. The sniffing must tickle you, because you stir before arching against him in a morning stretch. He moves so he doesn’t get in the way of your swinging limbs and smiles to himself. It feels like it’s been forever since he last got to hold you like this without the threat of someone whisking you away.
“Morning,” your voice is gravelly from disuse. “What’s going on. What’s the plan?”
“There’s no plan.”
You’re still half asleep, but you have the social awareness to let your voice go high with incredulity. “No plan?”
“No plan. They sent an email.”
“Read it to me?”
He reads the formal apology while you turn in the covers so you can embrace him while you wake up. By the time he’s done reading, you’ve sat yourself up to look at his phone screen as well.
“Sounds good,” you chirp.
“Really? I would have thought you’d be disappointed about not having a packed day. You’ve been zooming around since we got on board.”
“Yeah, but this was supposed to be our time together. It’s only natural that your friends would tag along.”
“So they’re my friends now?” He raises an eyebrow.
“Only when they’re annoying.”
As if on cue, the front door sounds with knocking. Taehyung is the one who calls out about breakfast plans, but you know all three of them are out there. It’s almost a menacing thought.
“Your friends are here,” he groans. His head falls back onto his pillow defeatedly. They’re likely to burst in any second.
“Don’t worry.”
The sound dies down momentarily when Yoori mentions the extra keycard you gave her for emergencies. Hoseok and Taehyung continue to jiggle the door for sport while chatting idly. Meanwhile, you crawl underneath the sheets and re-emerge on Jungkook’s side of the bed. You look him over, as if searching for something. He’s about to ask what you’re looking for when you reach out and pinch both his cheeks suddenly. While he’s mid-yelp, you swoop in and nip at his lips. It’s quick but it was just harsh enough that his face looks blotchy and his mouth starts to swell.
He whines. “Is this because I called them your friends?”
“Just trust me,” you hiss before your hands disappear further down the sheets to tug off your own underwear and throw it towards the door.
A moment later, the door swings open to reveal Yoori, Hoseok, and Taehyung. Their smiles are bright until they take in the scene. Jungkook’s hair is a mess, his cheeks are flushed, and his mouth looks like it’s been lightly ravaged. Though you’re mostly covered with the sheets, the underwear that is very clearly not on your body and the way the sheets drape over your head as you lay between his knees tell a very convincing lie.
“I think I just caught that stomach bug.” Yoori says lightly, still smiling. Hoseok peers behind her, looking mildly interested.
“I hate it when I remember they have sex with eachother,” Taehyung buries his face in his friend’s shoulder looking mortified as Yoori slowly closes the door.
“Yeah, it’s kind of like walking in on your aunt and uncle doing it. But, like, 12 times worse.”
Jungkook basks in the new silence for a few moments before it’s replaced with the rustle of sheets.
“What are you doing” he trails off to a whisper as you tug the waistband of his underwear down. Your hands still.
“You don’t want to have boat sex?”
“No, no, I do. I wanna have boat sex.”
He nods intensely and you laugh at how earnest he still is. Jungkook’s cheeks flare up, now doubly red from quiet excitement.
“Guess I should have just proposed this, huh?”
“Yeah,” you hum thoughtfully while moving on your knees to straddle his hips. “I can't see how this would have ruined anyone’s fun.”
“I can think of a couple people’s fun we just ruined.”
“I really meant my fun. Speaking of which,” you settle onto his lap and begin to grind.
He shudders, head falling forward with a sigh. This, he thinks, is the real happiest place on earth.
#changeswithluv#networkbangtan#btswriters#bangtan bookclub#bts scenarios#bts imagines#bts fanfic#jungkook scenarios#jungkook imagine#jungkook fanfic#honestly not sure where this title came from but who cares i guess
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King I would love that essay about Changing Channels
Fjdjshjdhdjd thanks for reading my tags Jesse you're the real VIP here.
Okay SO "Changing Channels" is the 8th episode of the 5th season of Supernatural. I give this information bc it's important in looking at the context of the episode - now I've complained a LOT about how SPN is terrible at giving us canonical timeframes within the episodes (y'all i was SHOCKED to discover the first season is supposed to cover a little over a year's worth of time, I thought it was like... 4 or 5 months) so I can't say for sure how long before and after the other episodes happen in-universe around "Changing Channels" BUT
The episode before is "The Curious Case of Dean Winchester" where Dean and Bobby bet years of their lives in a game of poker with a witch. The episode after is "The Real Ghostbusters" where Sam and Dean end up at a fan convention for the in-universe Supernatural novels.
Why am I pointing this out? Because it's important, please, no audience participation, this is like a Brian David Gilbert panel.
[under a cut bc this got...... STUPID long. Who knew I still had this many opinions about SPN in 2020?]
Okay first of all I wanna talk about the cinnamon topography of this episode - I love the way the first 5 seasons are shot because you really feel the americana gothic horror aesthetic they were going for (I have a whole ‘nother rant about the first 5 seasons vs the last 10 but thats for another time). Everything is a little washed out and grey-toned, the camera angles generally serve to make Sam and Dean appear even taller than they actually are (larger than life - again, another post for another time), and there’s honestly a LOT of shots from the ‘monster’s’ perspective, which is really neat! I’ve said it before (on another blog - YES i have a dedicated spn rant blog, don’t @ me hdjfhfjfh) but the episode that really got me hooked on spn back in the day was the second one, about the w*ndigo. Yes, it’s a racist, culturally appropriating shitstorm, but the way its SHOT is fantastic. I’m honestly not a horror fan, but that episode could have easily relied on jumpscares and they DIDN’T and it was scary as all fucking hell and just - fuck okay getting off topic.
In “Changing Channels” we get that distinctive grey-washed tone in the beginning and the very end of the episode, but the middle? When they’re in TV Land? Everything is bright. Almost comically so, I mean - okay look at these two shots of Sam (apologies about the crappy phone pics, netflix won't let me screenshot)
This one is from the start of the episode, in the "real" police station
And this is from a little later in the "TV" hospital
Ignoring that my phone is washing him out a lot in both pics, you can still see the warmer tones in the hospital shot as compared to the cold greyness in the police station one
Okay, now look at this picture
Dean inside the Impala, and those warm tones are back. Why? Because even though Sam and Dean believe that they’re back in the “real” world, they aren’t - so instead of the grey-washed shots that we’re used to, its the bright and warm shots that we see in “TV Land”! So the viewers pick up, even if its just subconsciously, that the boys aren’t out of the woods yet - everything is still too bright to be the in-universe reality we’ve come to expect from SPN by season 5
Which is also why i love this shift so much
These shots are literally SECONDS apart. The first is in "TV Land" and the second is in the "real" world. I have some red strip lights behind my bed, which are reflecting off my laptop screen - notice how much brighter they seem in the second picture? That’s because literally all of the warm colors have been drained out of the shot. As soon as Gabriel snaps them all back into “reality,” things get so much colder.
Okay, so the second thing I want to talk about is some of the very pointed dialogue choices within the “shows” the Winchesters take part in. Not between Sam and Dan and Gabriel, but from the, for lack of a better term, NPCs within the shows.
In the hospital, Dr. Piccolo tells Sam that he is “the finest cerebrovascular neurosurgeon I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So that girl died on your table; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Sometimes people just die.” Standard cheesy soap opera dialogue - but lemme just swap some words here and -
“You are the finest hunter I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So that girl died on your hunt; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault. Sometimes people just die.”
Or even -
“You are the finest hunter I have ever met - and I have met plenty! So Jessica and Mary died above you; it wasn’t your fault. It wasn’t anybody’s fault [but Azazel’s]. Sometimes people just die.”
Keeping in mind that the NPCs are basically Gabriel’s mouthpieces, its easy to see why so many people ship Sabriel. I’d actually love to see a fic that explores them talking about this moment in particular later on and the kind of gentle forgiveness that Gabriel can give Sam... getting off topic again.
In an abrupt about-face, the herpes commercial (much meme’d within the fandom) is straight up Gabriel shaming Sam. Because if you replace “genital herpes” with “demon blood” it’s.... dark. And very intentional.
So that’s what I did! (I combined all spoken lines to make the message easier to read, rather than splitting them up across 3 speakers as in the episode)
“I’ve drank demon blood. I tried to be responsible... did I try. But now, after being forcibly detoxed, I fight my addiction every day to reduce the chances of passing back into that toxic mindset. Ask your loved ones about a demon blood intervention today. [...] I am doing all I can to slightly lessen the chance of drinking demon blood again. And that’s a good thing.”
Like... the subtext throughout this episode sure is. Something.
Okay this is getting ridiculously long so I wanna wrap up by talking about The Best Scene In The Whole Goddamn Show
I’m talking, of course, about Gabriel’s Confession
“Max,” you might be saying, “there are so many better scenes out there, even within the first five seasons!” and to that i say, again, no audience participation, please. Also, you’re WRONG and here’s why!
Gabriel’s confession hits every goddamn emotional chord that the fandom begged for on this show - fear, rage, grief, pain, guilt, and even, yes, absolution.
Okay, here’s the scene again for those of you who don’t think about it at least once a week like me
youtube
Now this video is missing some of the conversation, but most of it is there, enough for you to see what I’m talking about. Gabriel up to this point has been, essentially, a nameless antagonist - this is the third episode he appeared in, and before this, we didn’t even know he was going by Loki. He was just referred to as ‘The Trickster’. But here, not only do we get a name (a real name at that), but we also get a glimpse of his backstory and a hell of a lot of character development in less than 5 minutes. I mean, Sam didn’t get this much character development throughout the entirety of season 1! There’s a good reason Gabriel has been a fan-favorite for a very long time, and I think a big part of it is this particular scene.
Because here, we get to see Gabriel being vulnerable. And we even see Dean show a little vulnerability, as he can empathize being the third party to explosive arguments between the two people who mean everything to him.
I mean... okay, it will never see the light of day, but I wrote a little bit of a Reverse ‘Verse fic (because I’m a sucker for Reverse ‘Verse) and this was the scene I started with. Not s1e1, not even the resurrection in s4e1, but this scene. Because this scene, more than any other, is critical to the way not only Gabriel’s (first) arc plays out, but also to how Sam and Dean conduct themselves for the rest of the season (and maybe a bit beyond, it’s been a hot minute since I watched s6 and later). Dean is angry but determined, he has a point to make, he is going to save Sammy and if he can’t do that, then he’s going to damn well die trying. But Sam... it’s after this episode that we start really seeing how bone-achingly tired Sam is. It’s after this conversation - where one of the other archangels, one of the few beings who can truly understand how powerful Michael and Lucifer are - says that there’s no other way around this that Sam seems to start inching towards giving in. Saying yes.
Sure, in the actual episode, he seems outraged by the idea, practically scoffs at it - “you want us to say yes to those sons of bitches?” - but it’s after this where Sam really seems run down.
I mean, look at the episodes before and after (HAH you thought I forgot about that first point I made at the very beginning of this post! I did, briefly, but I’ve circled back to it, thanks for being understanding). In “The Curious Case of Dean Winchester,” Sam behaves much as he did since the start of s4, which is to say, ‘annoying little know-it-all brother tossed into the middle of the apocalypse and just trying his best’ and it works well for the mad scramble for any scrap of information that’s happening in s4/early s5.
But in “The Real Ghostbusters” it’s different. This is another funny meta episode - except, while Sam and Dean are technically aware of the joke, they aren’t as amused by it as the audience is. And it’s not because of the ghosts. It’s because they’re just... done. Especially Sam. Dean has that nice little moment with the cosplayers at the end of the episode, but Sam... threatens to shoot Chuck. Sam ‘goes darkside’ more often than pretty much any other character in the show, but that moment is different. It’s a flat promise, not a threat. He’s not being an asshole, like he is after losing his soul. He’s just... done. And it’s obvious to see.
Gabriel’s confession is the turning point for Sam in s5, and it informs a lot of his behavior through the rest of s5, and possibly beyond! Like I said, I haven’t watched past s5 in a very long time, so I don’t feel confident enough to analyze that specific sort of character line, but I feel confident in saying that hearing one of the most powerful beings in the universe basically say “it doesn’t matter what you do - your destiny is unavoidable” and then he’s proven right (Sam says yes to Lucifer, and Dean eventually does say yes to Michael down the line!)... like, that’s really gotta fuck up your world view that was built on free will and throwing off the shackles of fate. Sam managed to avoid his ‘destiny’ in s2... but then it turns out that that wasn’t ever his destiny. Lucifer was his destiny.
Talk about an obscured view of the inner self.
#thebisexualmandalorian#jesse#max answers#spn#naturally super#changing channels#im having some THOUGHTS yall
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Weekly Recap | March 9-22
Didn’t even realize but I completely forgot the recap for the week of March 9th to March 15th because I was too busy trying to find a flight home from Scotland (fuck coronavirus and bojo!!!) So now you get two weeks worth of fics!
Complete
good on my own (needed me) by mcwho (Modern AU, Teacher Bucky | 12K | Explicit): There are some mistakes that could be made by anybody. Anybody. Bucky taught high school pretty much his whole life, and that was fine, those were kids, and he knew all of them anyway, which meant there was very little chance of him accidentally fucking any of his students during an impulsive post-marital-breakdown Grindr hook-up. Which is exactly what he had done with Steve.
💙 The Conservation of a 17th Century Painting by birdjay/ @bird-jay (Modern AU, Artist Steve | 13K | Explicit): Well. He does live alone, and it’s not like anyone would find out. He could safely stick his hand down his pants right now and not have to worry about it. He’s jerked off loads of times in his own apartment. It’s...healthy to let stress out this way...right? And the fact that it’s to a doctor of art history isn’t weird. Or at least, not super weird. People have masturbated to weirder things. Steve knows that for sure. And it’s not like Dr. Barnes is rough on the eyes or anything, either. He’s quite possibly the most handsome man Steve’s looked at in months. And, well, there’s the whole art side to things, as well. (Part 1 of The Met: Art Conservation Studies)
Re-framing the Canvas by birdjay/ @bird-jay (Modern AU | 4K | Explicit): Steve and Dr. Barnes's first date. (Part 2 of The Met: Art Conservation Studies)
Perfectly Mad by ClaraxBarton/ @claraxbarton (PWP, Shrunkyclunks | 2,2K | Explicit): Whoever had decided to seat Steve beside Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes - eldest son of President Winifred Barnes, war hero, recently returned from a three month stay as a hostage of an offshoot of the same terrorist group that had once held Tony Stark - was clearly an idiot. Actually, in Steve’s opinion, whoever had thought Barnes attending the dinner at all was an idiot. Whoever had thought inviting Steve to the dinner was an idiot.
own me, i'll let you play the role (i'll be your animal) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Werewolf Steve, PWP | 6,7K | Explicit): He wanders into a clearing, the same one where he stood, almost three months ago, watching the Quinjet while waiting for Steve to come running to him. It was the start of something…educational. It’s one thing to take Steve as he is, another to love it the way Bucky did. He has no regrets. He’s been worse things than a monster-fucker. - Bucky’s not wearing red, but he’s got a big, bad wolf on his tail. (Part 3 of 💙in this story, you have claws)
i look like all you need by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP, Daddy Bucky | 4,9K | Explicit): “Steve,” James starts, voice so low and so deep, a shiver running down Steve’s spine, “Baby, you can either come here and stand in front of me…or I’ll drag you by your fucking hair and put you there. Choose.” (Part 1 of Daddy James Bucky Barnes/Twink Steve)
i'm seein' the pain, seein' the pleasure by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP, Daddy Bucky | 1,8K | Explicit): Steve had barely been able to keep up, gasping and trying to ask what James was doing, his thigh pulled up and hiked around a thick waist, a filthy roll of James’ hips. James had whispered low in his ear, “Wouldn’t be a good Daddy if I didn’t make sure my sweet boy got to bed…” (Part 2 of Daddy James Bucky Barnes/Twink Steve)
💙 No One Else by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (Sugar Daddy Steve | 12K | Explicit): And now here he is, walking up the steps to Steve’s brownstone at 12:03 in the morning on a Thursday night. He’s standing there like a fucking idiot with his tail between his legs, his hand coming up to ring the doorbell and falling back to his side maybe 8 times, and he lets out a shaky sigh. What if Steve wasn’t awake? Was this out of line? Showing up to his house in the middle of the fucking night? Fuck. (Part 1 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)
Never Before by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 5,6K | Explicit): Before Steve, Bucky enjoyed sex, engaging in it frequently with various partners, enjoying himself and the pleasure he could bring others. But when Steve came along his world was flipped upside-fucking-down. Bucky had never felt so desperate, so needy, so pathetic for someone. He had never once been brought to tears during sex or because of sex but Steve brought them out of him almost every time, whether it be from the sex itself or for begging for it. He had no idea what his body and what his mind were capable of during sex until he came along. It was like Bucky had never had sex before Steve entered his life. (Part 2 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)
Slumber by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP, Daddy Steve | 4,1K | Explicit): “Bucky, honey. Can’t get enough even when you’re sleepin’, huh?” (Part 3 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)
Mad With It by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 3,9K | Explicit): “Bucky, come here.” Fuck that. He doesn’t move. He doesn’t move and he finds himself gritting out, “Make me.” He knows he’s being a brat, knows he has been all damn day. He knows Steve is being as sweet as can be, trying to be supportive, but he can only take so much. (Part 5 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)
Cyclone by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 4,9K | Explicit): “Listen to those manners, baby, so good. You can have all of Daddy’s cock you want but you better fucking work for it.” (Part 6 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)
Delirious by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 2,8K | Explicit): “Fuck, honey you look so good takin’ it for me. That little cock has come twice already and look how hard it is for Daddy. Said you couldn’t come and look at you about to come all over my cock.” (Part 7 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)
I Just Wanna Tell You Somethin' by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 1,4K | Explicit): Bucky had been so preoccupied at the library studying with Natasha that he hadn’t even realized his phone had been ringing. Or that he had missed quite a handful of text messages. Luckily it was only one missed call, but his stomach clenched nervously when he saw that there was a voicemail. A long voicemail. (Part 8 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)
Lately You've Been on my Mind by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 1,8K | Explicit): As soon as Steve’s office door is closed behind him, he lets out an incredibly deep sigh, his tense shoulders slumping, his eyes falling shut. Meeting after meeting after meeting had consumed his day and most of them had unfortunately been arduous with difficult clients and a test of patience. Steve needed to go home for the weekend and it felt like he needed it more than he needed to breathe. He slips his phone from his pocket and immediately curses. He missed a call from Bucky. (Part 9 of Modern Daddy Steve Rogers/Young Bucky Barnes)
💙 Gym Day by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 19K | Explicit): He sits up and rolls his neck, hands planted on either side of his hips on the wooden bench beneath him, focusing on his posture, and looks over at the man sitting with him. Oh shit. (Part 1 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)
Easy Like Sunday Mornin' by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 3,2K | Explicit): Today is a Sunday and the universally-accepted laziness of the day may be why Steve finds himself wanting it slow and sweaty and deep. Bucky didn’t ask questions. (Part 2 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)
💙 Right in my Space by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 9K | Explicit): Fuck. Steve’s head falls against the door with a gentle thump that he knows Bucky has to hear from the other side. Bucky was the absolute best and the absolute worst thing he could have seen on the other side of his door, especially with his slightly muddled red-wine-filled brain. He has worked so hard to avoid this moment, has hurt himself over and over again, and here he is feeling vulnerable standing at his door at midnight while the guy he definitely doesn’t want to date and definitely might not be in love with stands on the other side. (Part 3 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)
life is but a dream by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (PWP | 2,3K | Explicit): “Beg for it.” The phrase bounces around in Bucky’s brain like a pinball, off different sides, rolling around the curvature of his skull. His eyes are open, but his vision is a little hazy, can make out Steve’s slim backside as it hovers over Bucky’s angry erection, his amused but hot facial expression. Steve lets go of Bucky’s dick, smacks his hand down hard on his stomach instead, “Gone on me already, honey?” (Part 4 of Non-Serum Steve Rogers/Winter Solider Bucky Barnes| Shrinkyclinks)
Edging Closer by leveragehunters (Monkeygreen)/ @leveragehunters (Modern AU | 1,4K | Teen): Bucky had an apartment of his very own (okay, technically he co-owned it with the bank) and a neighbour of his very own: Steve Rogers, tall, blond, built and ridiculously kind. Sure, Bucky had accused said neighbour of being a butt-pic snapping pervert, but amazingly enough he'd been forgiven. In fact, he'd been more than forgiven, but even after dating Steve for not-quite-a-year, Bucky's eyebrows shot up when Steve dropped down next to him on the couch and casually asked, "Do you want to try edging this weekend?" (Part 2 of Two Men and a Single Entendre)
WIP
💙 Like it's the Only Thing I'll Ever Do by howdoyousleep/ @howdoyousleep3 (ABO AU | 3/4 | 22K | Explicit): When Steve opens the door, Bucky feels like he’s been living in clouds for the past few days, maybe even his entire life. Steve is life, Steve is happiness, Steve is the sun. He has such a visceral reaction to seeing the Alpha that he feels his knees go weak, feels his body draw tight towards the other man, pulled in. Or big Alpha Steve moves into sweet little Omega Bucky's apartment building and a roller-coaster build of a romance ensues.
💙 the reverie was not of me, you never saw nothing (so good for you and good for me) by voxofthevoid/ @voxofthevoid (Canon divergent | 2/? | 15K | Explicit): S.H.I.E.L.D and the Red Room throw Captain America and the Winter Soldier together for yet another mission. Serendipity is a tricky thing. (Part 2 of lay your heart into my perfect machine)
The Mnemosyne Project by onymousann (Post-WS | 2/? | 4,5K | Explicit): Someone's trying to talk to the Winter Soldier. Steve intends to find out who. (Part 2 of ocean eyes)
Paradise Lost (& Found) by JJK/ @trenchcoatsandtimetravel (Modern AU | 28/? | 62K | Mature): Meeting at a tropical resort AU where Steve is there on a 2-week honeymoon package after his fiancee left him at the altar, and Bucky is there for his sister’s destination wedding but doesn’t have a room because there was a mix up with the reservations in the system.
💙 Whip Crack by Quarra/ @quarra (Tentacles AU | 109K | 13/? | Explicit): Tentacle Monster Steve is captured by Hydra. They send in the Winter Soldier with a bull whip to break him, but as far as Steve's concerned the most beautiful creature he's ever seen walked in to his cell and started waving a sexy black tentacle at him. It's love at first sight.
Re-read
wild at heart by spacebuck/ @spacebuck (Shrunkyclunks, Soulmates AU | 11K | Explicit): Steve's volunteering when he meets his soulmate, and the cheetahs Bucky's responsible for make pretty good matchmakers, too.
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Summary: College AU/Famous!Blaine and Fanboy!Kurt - Kurt POV
Kurt really doesn’t have time to figure out the dating world between being a freshman at prestigious theatre school, LAADA, and his active but secret blogging life in the Sing!Fandom. So what if Sing! ended last year? There are still fics to read and actors to follow. Especially the uber talented heartthrob lead, Blaine Anderson. He can act. He can sing. He can even dance. He’s gay. He’s out. And he’s only 24. Kurt is willing to twiddle his thumbs and click refresh until Blaine Anderson’s next project.
He just didn’t expect the next project to be on his roommate Rachel’s new TV show.
Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9
Even Better than the Real Thing (10/13)
Kurt drops the phone as his heart starts to race and panic takes over. He feels like he’s going to throw up. No. He doesn’t have time to throw up. He immediately signs on to tumblr and deletes his blog. Gone. But it’s too late anyways. He calls Mercedes on autopilot.
“It’s over, Mercedes,” Kurt shakes as he says it. “He knows.”
“What? Who knows what?” But he can practically see the information dawn on her as she says it. “He knows you were a fan? Shit.”
“Yes, specifically, he knows that I was LimaBlaineFan - and I say was because I just deleted.”
“Oh my god, Kurt. How did this happen? Are you okay?”
“No, I’m not okay. And I don’t know. Or I can guess. He surprise visited me and I forgot to close my laptop screen and I must have left him in my room while I was dealing with Rachel and her oat milk,” Kurt puts the pieces together. “Fucking oat milk.”
“So he ended it on the spot?”
“No. God. He didn’t even say anything. He must have seen something but not much, gone home and read the blog, and then texted me 24 hours later with a terse goodbye.”
“So what did he say?” Kurt sends her the text. “It’s not great,” She agrees. “But that’s not exactly closure.”
“I don’t think I get closure after what I did. Just memories of our night together and of what an idiot I am.” Kurt goes over the whole story with Mercedes - how he obviously wanted to be chill when he met Blaine, didn’t want to seem like a desperate fanboy but just a friend of Rachel’s - which he is! That wasn’t a lie. And he always made sure to give Blaine an out, not to talk too much, but Blaine kept wanting to talk and flirt and - well, as soon as he really started to believe that they were more than friendly acquaintances with a mutual friend, he stopped blogging. But it was too late by that point to say ‘Oh by the way, I was such a big fan of Sing! that I have a blog about it and your name may feature.’ But he knows it’s all an excuse. Blaine told him the first time they met that a fan is not a friend. And he didn’t heed the warning. Or tell the truth.
Mercedes listens to the story she already knows, and affirms and agrees, but unfortunately, can’t really fix a situation that can’t be fixed. Kurt spends the night staring at his ceiling and the next day moping around the house, tired and cranky. He binges Gossip Girl and eats popcorn and texts Mercedes sad face emojis.
Even Rachel notices that something’s wrong when she comes in that evening.
“You’re still in pajamas?” She looks at him quizzically. “And you look like hell.”
“Thanks?”
“And I only point that out because it’s very unlike you.”
“I guess that is actually a compliment.”
“What’s wrong?” Before he thinks of what he’s going to say, Rachel interrupts again. “Wait. Blaine was a wreck today - bags under his eyes, forgot all his lines. Just said he had a rough night. Okay, Kurt. What is going on with you two?”
“Nothing now.”
“Now?”
“It’s not working out, okay?” Rachel starts to say something again but thinks better of it.
“Okay,” She seems to clue in to the fact that he does not want to talk about it. “I’ll go out later to get you a piece of cheesecake from Henry’s.” His favourite cheesecake place.
“Thank you,” He says sincerely. “Best therapy.”
...
After his cheesecake, which did take his mind off the mess of his life for at least 15 minutes, he moves back to his bedroom for night two of ceiling gazing, when his phone buzzes.
Blaine: So you didn’t respond.
He stares at the message, willing the right response to come to him.
Kurt: I honestly just don’t know what to say. Other than I’m sorry. I guess that’s what I should have said.
Blaine: So you are LimaBlaineFan, right?
Kurt: Guilty. Very guilty.
Blaine: Shit.
Kurt: I know we’re done - it’s my fault. You don’t need to say anything.
Kurt can’t actually bear the idea of Blaine lecturing him on honesty amidst crushing his heart.
Blaine: It is your fault. But we should talk.
Kurt: We should?
Blaine: Meet me at the Coffee Bean tomorrow at 3, okay?
Kurt: Let me check my calendar.
Blaine: Cheeky.
Kurt knows he made him smile despite himself.
Kurt: I’ll be there.
...
Kurt gets to the Coffee Bean half an hour early so he can be sure to be there first. He buys Blaine his favourite medium drip and adds a vanilla almond biscotti.
“These for me?” Blaine says as he sits down across from Kurt.
“The least I could do.” Blaine rolls his eyes and shakes his head, but he accepts the coffee and cookie. “I’m really sorry. I should have told you.”
“Yeah, you should’ve,” Blaine says and pauses, sipping his coffee.
“Can I ask you a question?” Kurt starts.
Blaine shrugs. “Go for it.”
“Why did you ask me to meet you for coffee? I mean, after finding out the guy you just -” Kurt gets red despite himself.
“Got naked with,” Blaine fills in.
“Yes - was actually a fan following your career-”
“And my body parts,” Blaine adds and Kurt gets much redder.
“I mean, I think that gives you license to fully ghost me without another word.”
“True,” Blaine nods his head. “But for one, you are my co-star’s roommate-”
“At least that’s true,” Kurt sighs at himself.
“Also, I’m not an asshole.”
“But I probably gave you reason to think that I am one.”
“No - which is the real reason I wanted to talk. The timeline.” Kurt looks at him confused. “Your blog on tumblr. It seems like once we met, you only blogged a few times. And by the time I was interested in you, you stopped posting.”
Kurt nods, giving himself an internal high five for at least one decent choice. “I did. Right after we-”
“Made out all night?” Blaine has got to stop putting these images back into his head in the midst of a break up conversation.
“No. It was before that. After you - you know we talked in my room-”
Blaine remembers, smiling. “When I got you to tell me you had never been kissed so I could tell you that you should be.”
“You’re so calculating,” Kurt shakes his head.
Blaine raises his hands in defense. “My intentions were pure, I promise. Besides, I could say the same about you.”
“I wasn’t calculating! I wasn’t even trying to be your friend, let alone your, you know. I am definitely not sophisticated enough to try to deceive you to get you into bed, god. I was just trying to seem reasonably normal and cool around my roommate’s new co-star who by complete coincidence was my celebrity crush of the last four years. It was way too uncool to reveal my alter ego to you.”
Blaine smiles, probably despite himself. “Can I tell you some of my favourites?”
“Oh god.”
It seems Blaine spent the better part of his evening delving deeply into the fandom mind of LimaBlaineFan, because he had screencapped some of Kurt’s oldest, and cringiest posts.
-Why isn’t he shirtless in that scene? The other guys are shirtless. Roy is hot. And no, I don’t think he’s embarrassed.
“Well, you are right about that. I’m not camera shy.”
-Thank God Blaine Anderson has a better fashion sense than Roy. Roy and his loose jeans and sweatpants - how would I even catch a glimpse? But did you see Blaine on that red carpet? Maroon suit, pants so tight. His ass is perfection.
-Blaine’s interview for Pride was perfection. He says we might even catch him out on the dance floors, dancing with some hotties. Maybe then he’ll be shirtless.
And of course, Blaine appreciated Kurt’s hard work on one of his most recent posts - The privileges and pitfalls of playing straight for an out gay actor: Quotes from Blaine Anderson’s interviews.
Kurt lets Blaine read each one, sitting silent in embarrassment and biting his lip through it all. It’s the least he deserves. Just as Blaine finishes his list and Kurt is about to go into profuse apology once again, they’re interrupted.
A young woman who looks about seventeen scurries quickly up to their table. “Hi. I’m sorry. I know you’re busy. I’m just such a huge fan of Sing! And now That’s So Rachel-” - If that was a fan test, she passed. She knows both shows. That’s a minimum. “Can I get a pic with you?”
“Of course. Thank you so much for watching.” Blaine takes her phone like a pro and angles it so he and the girl are both in it, Kurt trying to avoid being the photobomb in the background. Blaine turns back to him as the girl leaves.
“I guess that would’ve been me a few months ago.”
“For you, I might have even given a hug. Or the coveted kiss on the cheek. I always try to connect with the gay guy fans.”
“You succeeded?” Kurt tries and Blaine laughs. At least the energy between them is better. Much better. Like he won’t have to hide in a corner if he’s ever at an event with Blaine again or anything like that.
“I guess I did.”
“The first time I met you, you told me that a fan is not a friend.”
“I did.”
“Would you have asked me out if you had known from the beginning?”
“Probably not. Against the rules.”
“That’s what I thought.” There’s an awkward pause - Kurt’s not sure there’s anything else to say and apparently Blaine agrees because he switches the topic to the latest script and his excitement about working with Patti Lupone - who apparently, even gets to slap him. By the time they leave the café, Kurt feels relieved. He’s survived his first break up. Not that they were really together. He doesn’t have the energy to grieve the loss of kissing, and touching, and ironically still not having seen Blaine shirtless (pantless, yes). He’s sure it will hit him like a ton of bricks after he finally gets a real night of sleep, and then he will have Rachel prepare the cheesecake. Again.
He crawls into bed early that night, grateful the shock and awful adrenaline of the last two days has finally left his body. His phone buzzes as he closes his light and he plans to text Mercedes back to tell her he’ll update her tomorrow. But it’s not Mercedes.
Blaine: Some rules are made to be broken.
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Austere Academy:Chaper One
Jack Moore gulped as the car entered the grounds of Austere Academy, the twenty-seven-year-old had heard about Austere’s reputation for discipline, even the toughest of lads feared being sent to Austere, but Jack reasoned it had to be better than serving time.
When the car had arrived to pick him up, he’d had a uniform thrust at him by the driver, he introduced himself as AJ King, this guy could have only been twenty-two, twenty-three tops, he had thick, vibrant ginger hair that he’d slicked back, he was clean-shaven with a chiselled, angular jawline, it was apparent the guy worked out, Jack could see his biceps through his shirt, he was wearing a white shirt with a black tie, tucked into tight black cotton trousers, which showcased his nice muscular arse, AJ told him to be ready in five minutes, Jack took the uniform from him & disappeared upstairs.
Once there, he stripped off, snapping a naked selfie for Twitter in his full-length mirror, he added a filter that made his dark brown eyes pop & posted it, Jack inspected the uniform, a plain white button-up shirt, tight thin cotton trousers & a black tie, it was like being back at fucking school, he pulled the tight-fitting trousers over his hairy thighs, & up over his small peach fuzz covered arse, the seam settled in between his cheeks, framing them flawlessly, as he slipped the shirt on, it clung to his arms, he was toned but not overly so, this shirt was fucking tight, he buttoned his shirt, tucked it in & put on his tie, he looked absurd, twenty-seven, dressed as a naughty schoolboy.
Jack wasn’t overly vain, but he took pride in his appearance, his dark brown hair was spiked on top, he might have to wear this ridiculous uniform, but he was styling his hair the way he wanted, no matter what anyone said, at least the thin cotton of the trousers made his arse look good, it was small but peachy, he loved showing off his arse, that’s why he loved his wrestling singlet, crap, he didn’t put it in his bag, mind you, if they had wrestling team, they’d have singlets, he’d heard Austere had a few competitive sports teams, hopefully, a wrestling team was one of them, Jack preened himself for a few more minutes, snapped another pic for Twitter, then went downstairs, AJ was waiting for him, checking his watch, a pissed off look on his face.
“Five minutes you were told, now we’re late, get in the car”
Jack was flabbergasted, this guy was scolding him like he was a fucking teenager, he opened his mouth to say something but decided it probably wasn’t wise, he’d easily be able to kick the crap out of him, even if Jack was older, Jack locked the door as AJ placed his bags in the boot, AJ opened the car door, Jack thanked him & went to sit down, out of nowhere, Jack felt something hard connect with his arse, & a sting began to burn its way across the centre of his cheeks.
“You need to learn to be ready on time”
Jack couldn’t believe it, AJ’s meaty hand had just slapped his arse, & the sting was spreading, the fuck was this guy playing at, shocked he got in the car, AJ closed the door behind him, & sat in the driver’s seat, Jack shifted, it had only been one slap, but it stung, what the fuck have I gotten myself into, I should have been more careful, he thought, recalling how his latest drug binge had earned him his sentence at Austere, the sting in his arse wasn’t going away soon, it was a familiar sting, that caused Jack to cast his mind back to the last time he’d been spanked, over eight years ago.
His dad, John, had found an empty coke bag in his coat, Jack tried to bullshit his way out of it, but John saw straight through his lies, & dragged him upstairs by his ear, bollocking him as they arrived at Jack’s room, John then thrust Jack into the corner of his room & told him not to move, he returned a few minutes later, with an old oak hairbrush, that belonged to Jack’s grandad, it was only a small hairbrush, but, with John behind it, it had ignited a fire in Jack’s arse more times than Jack cared to remember, John grabbed Jack from out of the corner, sat on the bed & pulled Jack across his knee, every time John spanked Jack, he always started with a hand spanking, his hand fell hard & fast, Jack was wriggling within thirty seconds, even through his grey sweatpants, it stung, John soon lowered Jack’s sweatpants, & continued spanking him on his boxers.
Jack always hated it when John pulled his pants down, he started aiming for Jack’s thighs, after John had reddened Jack’s thighs, he pulled down Jacks boxers, once Jack’s arse was bared, John really got into the swing of spanking, Jack was kicking his legs within five slaps, promising he’d never do it again, but John just carried on spanking, five minutes later, when Jack had kicked his pants & boxers to the other side of the room, John rested the hairbrush on the centre of Jack’s arse, Jack’s crying had died down a bit, but he knew the tears would be flowing again soon, John lifted the hairbrush & brought it down with almighty force on Jack’s sit spot, Jack screamed, he always forgot how much that first swipe with the hairbrush stung, John spanked Jack with that hairbrush, nonstop, for twenty minutes, after which Jack had gone limp over his knee, crying continually, his arse was a mass of stinging redness, John stood Jack against the wall & told him to stay there for ten minutes then go to bed, that was the worst spanking Jack ever got of his dad, he couldn’t sit down for a few days afterwards, the car went over a bump, & Jack’s reminiscing ended & he was back to reality.
Forty-five minutes later, the sting in Jack’s arse had faded into a warm glow & they were somewhere in the countryside, Jack lowered the car mirror to check his appearance, best smarten up, fuck knows what these bastards are gonna expect, he toyed with his hair, his eye caught by a sign, Austere Academy, they were entering the grounds, he was distracted from his thoughts by AJ’s low voice.
“You should read the brochure before we get there”
Jack picked up the brochure & flicked through, Austere Academy, a modern day reform school, for men aged eighteen to forty five, Jack skimmed, looking for any mention of a wrestling team, he spotted a list of the sports teams, football, rugby, wrestling, yes, at least now he’d have something to keep him occupied, he read on, his eye was drawn to an chubby guy in a grey suit, he wasn’t overly fat, he had a belly, but he was well built & his shoulders were broad, his head was covered in fine fuzz, which blended perfectly into his stubble, Head of Austere Academy, Gaz Green, twenty seven, how the fuck was this guy the head of a reform school & the same age as him, Jack skipped ahead, a good looking guy with fluffy brown hair, & dark brown eyes, caught his attention, senior, Callum Kelly, thirty-two, he didn’t look thirty-two, he had a cocky smirk on his face, framed by dark stubble, his biceps bulged in his white shirt & his perfectly round arse, was encased in tight shorts, showing his thick furry thighs, grey knee high socks & black shoes completed his outfit.
The next page Jack came upon contained the rules, uniform to be worn at all times, except on weekends, be on time for your lessons, no drugs of any kind, smoking is allowed, in designated areas only, alcohol may be consumed, but only when permitted by Mr Green, anyone caught breaking the rules will be punished, & here at Austere, we believe the best punishment is a good, old fashioned, spanking, Jack had to re-read it a couple of time to make sure his eyes weren’t playing tricks on him, anybody caught breaking the rules will have his bottom bared & thoroughly spanked, this couldn’t be real, we are a reform school, we believe in firm discipline, hence, a spanking during the day means a spanking before bed.
“Is this for real, bare arse spankings, a spanking during the day means a spanking before bed?”
Jack’s voice cracked as he questioned AJ, AJ laughed, remembering how he’d asked the same questions when he’d first arrived at Austere.
“It is, every word, bare bum spanking, a spanking during the day means a spanking before bed, punishment parade”
“Punishment parade, what’s that���
Jack had been so distracted by the bare arse spanking, he hadn’t finished reading, he read the rest out loud.
“If you are spanked more than four times in one week, you will be put on punishment parade, on the nearest Friday, you will be taken on stage in assembly, in front of the entire academy, where your bottom will be bared, caned & slippered, & finally Mr Green will put you over his knee, & spank you, by hand”
AJ, noticing that Jack was flustered, offered him some advice.
“And take it from someone who’s been there more than once, Green doesn’t mess about, he doesn’t stop spanking you until you’re in tears, you’d be wise to stay on his good side”
Jack sat back, still in disbelief at what he had just read.
“What the fuck”
AJ knew, from bitter experience how swearing was dealt with.
“Watch your language as well, or you’ll end up getting your mouth washed out, & I promise you it isn’t nice”
Jack began to panic, his arse was quite literally on the line.
“We’re here”
Jack sat up, as the car drew to a stop, AJ got out & opened the boot, grabbing Jack’s bags, he quickly took them inside, he reappeared a few minutes later, some guy had him gripped by the ear, it was Mr Green, he didn’t look happy, he kept spanking AJ as they walked, AJ letting out an ow, every time a slap landed, Green stood AJ next to the car & told him to stay there with his hands on his head, then made his way over to Jack’s door & opened it.
“Hello Jack, I’m Gaz Green, nice to meet you”
Jack stepped out of the car & closed the door, he breathed in the impressive old building, confident that no amount of drugs & partying could be worth this.
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Capratone, The Asteroids & The Metronoids (for Beginners)
Tracks & Traces #13: I’ve been planning to write about the music of Capratone, The Asteroids and The Metronoids for sometime and have finally gotten around to it (somehow its been almost 3 years since the last T&T). The link between these bands is Andrew Lyster (now living in Brussels) and as I will explain, he kindly answered some of my questions for this hybrid Tracks & Traces. Since originally publishing this piece Richie Kelly of Capratone has also similarly added valuable information I would never have been able to share otherwise. Usually I just depend on my memory, the records, press cuttings and any surviving notes I took from the times but as I got deeper into the story there were too many question marks about line-ups (pre-Capratone), the issue of a possible ‘lost’ Capratone album and don’t even get me started about The Metronoids! At time of writing most of this music is hard if not impossible to find streaming online and I couldn’t even locate any band photos or videos either. Which is all the more reason to write a piece to mark their existence and hopefully spark a revival of interest. When I was putting the finishing touches to the article I did discover there is now at least some music from The Asteroids on YouTube. Not long after I originally shared this piece, Joss Moorkens of Capratone sent me two band photos, the first line-up (L-R: Fiachra, Joss, Andrew) and as a four piece with Richie Kelly (below).
I first saw Andrew Lyster play (vocals/guitar) when I caught The World of Pugh in a venue I only went to once, Dillinger’s. Like many things from those days it’s long gone but it was a bar with a small stage (up some stairs?) somewhere off Dublin’s Capel St. (18/3/94). As I totally forgot who was in the rest of the band I’ll let Andrew take up the story.
“The World of Pugh was the first group where I wrote songs. I think it started around 1993. Originally it was Keith Swan on drums and a fellow called Brian McEleney on bass. Then in 1994 I brought some songs in and Brian took off to be replaced by Niall Brown (who was also the singer and guitar player for The Moustaches). Niall played bass for World of Pugh in the form where we had songs and did gigs.”
I’m sure someone like Joss Moorkens (then drumming with Tucker Suite) had told me about TWOP and the name had struck me (there was a very cool hand drawn flyer for the gig). They played bottom of the bill with Tucker Suite, Budge and Schroeder’s Cat, all part of a very exciting little scene at the time. Less than two weeks later I happened to see TWOP again on a bill with The Moustaches at a house party on Middle Abbey Street. The Moustaches, who sadly never released anything, were also part of this same scene (in my mind anyway). As I recall, this latter show was on the second or third floor of a semi derelict space in which a friend of both bands was living as a caretaker. Andrew has now told me that he and Keith Swan actually lived there and it was where TWOP rehearsed. I remember sitting on an old mattress and really enjoying the atmosphere (a cymbal was tied to a rafter). I do remember that TWOP had a real sense of humour on stage with some crowd involvement going on. They never had any releases but might well have recorded something (I’ve also heard tell of an unreleased album by The Moustaches!). This would be the last time I saw them play, perhaps it was even their last show? It would be another year before I would see Andrew onstage again.
While researching this piece I did find an Irish band family tree which shows that Andrew, Joss, Fiachra Lennon and Brian Gough were in a band called Mudshark (1991-92), which was not actually their first band. Again, Andrew gave me some more information which I thought was worth sharing and clarifying about these early days.
“Brian Gough (later in Mexican Pets) had been in an even earlier band than Mudshark with me called The Foots. This band only played one gig in a pub in Dun Laoghaire in 1991. Our friends had to listen to the music from the street because they were too young to get in. After The Foots broke up I think Brian went on to another group called Harvey, and then Tucker Suite with Greg Barrett (later in Joan of Arse) on bass initially. Greg then did Schnorbitz with Joss, and had a cool band called Giraffe Running.”
Andrew’s next band would be Capratone (vocals/guitar) along with Joss on Drums and Fiachra on bass. Regarding song-writing Andrew told me, “For the most part I would write the songs and we would try to make them better by all writing our own parts through rehearsals. One or two were group written from stuff that happened in rehearsal.” I first saw them in another venue off Capel St. supporting Schroeder’s Cat at Behan’s Bar (previously The Fox & Pheasant) (3/4/95) and again just ten days later at The Plough with (surprise surprise) The Moustaches and Schroeder’s Cat. I would get to see this line-up play quite often on local bills until Sept ‘97 (more on this later). I recall they also played a short tour around Ireland with US band The Make-Up (April ‘97).
In early ‘96 they tried to record an album with producer Marc Carolan. Andrew told me it was to be called, “Le Plus Roll, because we felt our music was more Roll than Rock. I can’t pin down the exact date of the recording, but my guess is that it was in 1996. We had 2 days in a studio somewhere in Rathgar. It was a 24 track ADAT studio. I think it had a Soundcraft desk. The highlight equipment-wise was an incredible Ampeg bass stack that belonged to some professional band. Its sound was so authoritative and great that by the end of the long first day’s recording, when I had crawled into bed, I was woken up a couple of times by LOUD auditory hallucinations of Fiachra’s P Bass blasting through that thing. Marc, and the three of us all worked really hard for the two days, we did manage to record and mix all the songs we came in with, but I think the short time-frame worked against us capturing the right aesthetic. The means of production were expensive to rent and we couldn’t afford to record even in a project studio like that for more than a day or two.”
Luckily, one of the songs, ‘Homeward’, ended up on the Irish band compilation album, Zip Up Your Boots For The Showbands (1996). I always loved this intricate and explosive song and a whole album like this would have been quite something. The only place online you can hear it now is on a radio show I made for Dublin Digital Radio about bands that played in Dublin’s Attic venue. I must point out the musicianship of Capratone, it may not have been so obvious in the more noisy Tucker Suite but Joss was such an amazing and distinct drummer and both Fiachra and he so easily locked together. They created a lot of space for Andrew’s vocals and guitar for these catchy and very inventive songs to really flow.
At some point in late 1996 Richie Kelly joined (on right in pic) on guitar and they played as a four piece. At some other point Andrew left but as the band continued things must have been going really well musically. According to my notes the last two times I saw Capratone play was at the start of September ‘97, supporting The Sewing Room and Luggage at Dublin’s Mean Fiddler and then a headline show in The Funnel venue at the end of the same month. This doesn’t mean they stopped playing of course but for whatever reasons I didn’t see them again. Things don’t stay static, I did get really into electronic dance music and clubbing the following year but continued to see guitar bands as well but gigs would clash, allegiances, circumstances and tastes change, choices have to be made.
At some point this second line-up hooked up with Dublin label Folkrum Records (run by Dan Watson) and they recorded a mini album, The Art of Go, which was released in early 2000 (CD only) and produced by Simon Kenny aka Si Schroeder. At that stage Joss and Fiachra were still in the line-up with Richie and Eric Sexton (on guitar). I wasn’t sure if any of Andrew’s songs survived after his time with the band (on the Capratone page of the old Folkrum website he only gets thanked for the name) so I needed to ask him about it, “I didn’t write anything on the LP called The Art of Go. There was a strange overlapping series of line-ups in Capratone but when I left I think Richie Kelly (who was a recently arrived guitar player joining the original 3 piece) took on the song-writing job. As far as I know those Art Of Go tunes were all of his making. Richie went on to make a few attempts at recording subsequent line-ups of Capratone.” According to Joss’ short biog of the band on Last.fm, by the end of Capratone the line-up had changed completely from the original one.
Since I published this piece Richie Kelly has been in touch and has kindly provided more detail about joining the band and how his role and the line-up evolved. “I saw Capratone in 1996 and was blown away. Even before the show ended, I wanted to join but that seemed unlikely. It turned out that Andrew’s song-writing was taking a new direction and he had decided to add a second guitarist. We were connected through an extended friend group and apparently word had gotten to him that I was as enamoured with The Beach Boys as he was. We bumped into each other and started talking music and I must have auditioned and joined the band shortly thereafter. At some point I brought a song to the band and we added it to our set (with my vocals). I started contributing more so when Andrew decided to stop playing, we just continued. We added Eric Sexton, a friend and former bandmate. The Art of Go was recorded by Simon Kenny with basic tracking done over a weekend at a large room in Joss’ father’s business. Simon and I continued vocals and overdubs at his flat in Donnybrook.”
Surprisingly none of this music has made it onto YouTube or anywhere else online that I could find. It can be bought on Discogs, which is how I got my hands on it about two years ago. In my opinion it works really well as an EP, with a few really engaging tracks but with some filler too. The best for me would be ‘Clozer’ which sounds like a lost classic and musically is a more full bodied version of the band heard on ‘Homeward’. ‘Free Jazz’ is pleasingly upbeat and cruises along on Beach Boy vibes. They do sound quite American (Pavement and bands of that ilk) at times (as did Capratone mark 1) but this was very much the sound and influence of the times, everything still comes down to the quality of the song-writing. The band broke up a good while later, sometime in 2003 without anymore releases. At some stage Richie Kelly moved to Brooklyn, New York and started a similar sounding band there but with more brass, Sport of Kings. He even re-recorded ‘Free Jazz’ and made a video for it. The influence of Brian Wilson is clear on this song in particular, they cleverly re-use The Beach Boy’s ‘Cool, cool water” line in the song (also present in the original version). Apart from some positive reviews of their only EP, Logic House (2011), there is little sign of the band online either but at least you can check out their excellent video for ‘Free Jazz’ (see below). I did find just one image of Capratone at this time on the Folkrum website, which I have enlarged below. Richie is the golf club carrying member.
In my original piece I wasn’t sure what happened to Capratone next so Richie can take up the story, “The Art of Go attracted the interest of Shifty Disco, who released all of the Elephant 6 stuff in the UK. We set about making a full length for them which we were calling Aviation High. Simon Kenny was initially set to record but was so busy with other projects, I asked Andrew to do it and he agreed. Drum and bass tracking took place in a studio in Dublin. Andrew and I indulged our love of tinkering at his family home while recording my parts and mixing. The result is a pretty high fidelity Capratone record. Shifty Disco preferred the super compressed Capratone of the previous record and passed. We trudged along with some line-up changes after that. The most stable line-up though was myself, Cian Synnot on drums, Fiachra McCarthy on guitar and Michael Stevens (of Groom and many other excellent bands) on bass. As Joss said, no original members were left by the end of Capratone. I believe we kept the name simply because we couldn’t come up with a new one, apparently I have a problem naming things. When I ended up opening music studios and practice spaces in Brooklyn after moving there, I asked Joss if I could use the name of his label Scientific Laboratories because I loved it so much and couldn't think of an alternative.”
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I think it’s well worth including here what happened with Richie’s next band Sport of Kings. “My love of fidelity only increased as the years continued except my focus switched from The Beach Boys to Steely Dan. I because obsessed with doing an indie rock version of their music and Sport of Kings took that direction. The initial line-up was drums, bass guitars and Fender Rhodes and then we added a horn section and a drummer from NYU’s Jazz Program who were incredible and took things to a whole different level.”
“After our Logic House EP, we made a full record (15 songs to be called Queer Theorem) with Michael Leonhart of Steely Dan as producer and occasional synth/horns/vocals contributor. This was essentially a dream come true for me. Initial tracking was done by me at a studio in Brooklyn and painstaking overdubbing, vocals and mixing was done by myself and Michael at his mixing room in the city. Ironically, we recorded yet another version of ‘Free Jazz’ with Michael. I’m not sure why I keep rerecording it but it might have something to do with Andrew and I finding out Brian Wilson used to record ‘Proud Mary’ every time he went into a new studio to check the sonics. I think I now have 4 completed versions!”
“I put an enormous amount of effort into Queer Theorem but it took so long that by the time it was ready, many band members were so in demand by big artists that they had little time to give. Keeping a 7-piece band of amazing musicians afloat proved too difficult and I disbanded the group rather than trying to recruit new musicians. I had also taken that level of fidelity to its conclusion and I returned to looser music after moving to Portland, OR.”
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The next ‘band’ Andrew founded was solo project The Asteroids. I don’t think he ever presented it live but there was just one release, an exquisite three track 10″/CD, Moonlight Music For Beginners, which was released on Joss Moorkens’ Scientific Laboratories label in 2000 (the same year as The Art of Go). You can listen to what has to be my favourite song, ‘Nine Lives’ at link below (the other two songs can helpfully be found on the same channel and I’ve linked them here). According to the sleeve notes it took two years to record, with I assume Andrew playing all the instruments and doing the programming etc. I was sure to pick this up on vinyl at the time and have cherished it since. The amazing paintings on front and back were by the artist Niamh McGrath.
‘Nine Lives’ is so laid back, rich in instrumentation but for me it’s all about Andrew’s vocals (Alan Kelly of The Last Post also provides additional backing vocals). The lyrics prove to be the real earworm for me, “Who is the man, who has done this to you?” with an unexpected lyrical twist at the end. The song has somehow burrowed its way into my consciousness and over the past 20 years has been liable to play in my head at any time. ‘Return Of The Moonlightman’ is more sparse and based again around the vocal arrangement, a second deeper voice (John Parkinson) enters the fray about halfway and it goes to another level with a lovely gradual close. ‘The Great Escape’ is dominated by a really warm organ sound that pulls you along. This one in particular reminds me of Brian Wilson, one of Andrew’s touchstone influences. It’s one of those releases which has dated really well in my opinion and is pretty much unknown I think (I don’t know how many were pressed or sold). There was so much promised with this release and frankly it’s something of a shame it was not followed up at the time. If Andrew had been signed or whatever then things might have happened differently but like all of the bands I’ve written about in this series, we’re lucky to have what we have and the music will last forever. You can still find it for sale on Discogs and it can be played and purchased on iTunes and Tidal. There was one other song from this period, ‘Lunar Doo Wop’, released on a compilation CD included free with the first Foggy Notions magazine. I vaguely remember it but can no longer find my copy (the title tells us all we need to know!).
Sometime in 2005 or later I bumped into Andrew and he gave me a CD from his latest group The Metronoids. It was a two track disc in a plastic wallet (no cover artwork or personnel details) called Petroleum. Today this doesn’t even exist on Discogs never mind anywhere else! Until I asked Andrew about it I wasn’t sure if this had simply been a promo but he told me there was artwork etc. The reason I probably never saw it for sale is that I left Dublin in 2005. For a bit more information I had to dig into the data on the CD itself and found that the track names are simply ‘Petroleum 1 & 2′ and for what it’s worth the genre on iTunes comes up as Blues (not sure how this gets assigned). It’s a pleasant listen (the more spirited second track is my favourite) but it surprised me very much to find it was all drums/percussion and obviously nothing like what he’d done before. This would be the only release under the name, which I imagine is pretty rare to come across.
I obviously had to get Andrew to explain The Metronoids to me, “This was a project I really enjoyed. Done in 2004/5 with Joss and Marc Hayes (drummer from The Moustaches, Boxes). It was always a real pleasure to be in a room with those two guys. I think we did a handful of rehearsals and one recording session. The idea was drum improv within premeditated structures. All three of us played drums. I think I got the notion to do a project that required a different kind of listening from my love of the CD called Guitar Solo by Annette Krebs.”
I wasn’t aware of this at the time but Andrew, Joss and Fiachra briefly reunited as The Lamps in 2005 but as far as I know while there were some live gigs there were no releases. Since then Andrew has told me he is currently working on two new music projects, “One with Fiachra Lennon is called Fig/Astro, it started in 2018, we should be finished an LP this year. He wrote a bunch of instrumental tracks and sent them to me. At his request I turned the instrumentals into songs, and the productions are evolving from there with both of us working on it via WeTransfer. He is a real natural musician so the songs have a very solid foundation. It was refreshing to write songs this way from track to song, rather than from song to track as I had always done previously. My own LP has been in the pipeline since 2009 when I wrote a load of songs and set out to record them in-the-box. Some of the songs went through over 20 productions. Working on a finite group of productions over a long period, under the microscope of Digital Audio Workstation has really allowed me to discover how to do my own thing. The work on this solo album takes a lot of focus.”
After Capratone Joss would go on to play with Joan of Arse and The Dudley Corporation and guest on many other releases, most of these can be found on his impressive Discogs entry. When I was doing my research for this piece I was excited to find an old Souncloud page for The Asteroids I never knew existed, it has two unreleased tracks which date from about 2014 but Andrew said the music since then has been become more abstract. Fiachra meanwhile has a bulging Soundcloud page full of his own demos that is very worth exploring too. Both of them are also on Twitter, The Asteroids and Fiachra. It will have been a long time coming but I’m looking forward to the next new releases from both these artists.
Sometimes the best things take time.
Stephen Rennicks
#capratone#the asteroids#the metronoids#andrew lyster#fiachra lennon#joss moorkens#richie kelly#folkrum records#the art of go#moonlight music for beginners#sport of kings#the world of pugh#dublin#music#1990s#2000s
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