#I also almost choked

[monicaalexandraaa]

Oh I loved this so much!!!! I love your brainnnnn🩷🩷

HOV

~8k words

From me: a one-shot

Warnings: enemies to lovers (because WHY NOT), panicked Harry, car accident, hospital visit, etc.

Summary: Two environmentally friendly people carpool to work and almost kill each other every day. Harry brakes too much. She lets people go when it's not their turn. She gets crumbs all over her car. Harry listens to really boring podcasts. Harry thinks she's beautiful even if she's annoying. She thinks Harry is unbelievably sexy even if his opinion of her music is rude.

It’s for the environment. It’s for the environment. It’s for the environment.

Every day he waited for her to get to his car he had to chant it to himself that it was worth it. “We’re not going to fight today,” he mumbled to himself as she left the apartment building. It was exactly one building next to his and so it made sense.

She looked really pretty. She always did. It was brutal on his psyche because he wanted to like her. He was desperate to like her, but she was just so... annoying. But her hair was half up in a clip, pieces spilled from it almost artfully. That was the only way he could describe her: art. Harry wasn’t sure if she wore makeup, he suspected she did but if he found out she was naturally that stunning he wouldn’t have been surprised either.

Her dress pants looked perfect on her legs, not quite painted on but close. Her bright blue button down was tucked in and complimented her complexion so well. She wore a pair of heels to complete her look which he knew she didn’t like doing so he was bracing for her complaints—she was much more of a flats person; but she felt she had to wear them to be taken seriously. She looked professional, beautiful, but approachable.

Harry took a deep breath trying to quell the frustration, anxiety, and adoration he had for her before she got in the car. We’re not going to fight today.

“Hi,” she greeted quietly.

“Hi,” he answered as she got settled. She put her coffee mug in the cup holder, her lunch bag and work bag went to the floor by her feet. Harry much preferred her weekend look, and he was sure she did too; sweatpants, a hoodie or T-shirt, sneakers or slippers was much more her style and she wore that just as beautifully as she did her professional outfit.

Jesus Christ it was going to be a long week. How was it only Monday?

“Do y’have a presentation today?” He asked as she finally settled herself into the passenger seat.

“Yeah, why?” Harry noted she was immediately distrustful and did his best to ignore it because he was trying, with everything in him, to be polite and kind. More than he usual.

“Y’look nice,” he shrugged.

“As in I don’t usually look nice?” She asked defensively. “Are you playing a trick on me? Is this a joke?”

That was short-lived. He sighed and looked at the ceiling for help like the answer to this complicated woman was going to be there, finally. “No, s’not a joke. Y’always look nice, love. But y’look extra nice today.”

“Oh,” she pouted, the pucker between her eyebrows making itself known. He was used to seeing it and he found it cute since she looked so serious and her face was just so sweet it almost didn't make sense for her to look so grumpy. But Harry knew better. “Thank you,” she murmured, surprise laced in her voice. “Sorry... I’m nervous,” she explained.

He frowned. “M’sure you’ll be fine.”

“Mm.”

They didn’t speak for several moments. Silence was a lot better for them. Less of a chance to argue with one another. “How was your weekend?” She asked. Small talk was typically safe. As long as there wasn’t a lot of details.

“Good, finished m’book,” but he didn’t offer what he read because he knew they didn’t share the same taste in book genres and she would probably wrinkle her cute little nose in distaste. “How was yours?”

“Fine, visited my friend,” but she didn’t say which one because he would just tell her how she was being used for her money and networking to get into nice restaurants. The silence continued for another few minutes. She scrolled on her phone then pulled her laptop out of her bag. There was about forty minutes until they reached their office so maybe she would go over her presentation.

Harry would have offered to listen to it, but from experience, she would argue every point of constructive criticism he had to offer—only because he had done the very same. In actuality, her presentation was probably perfect. There was no need for her to be nervous. But as she had explained many times over, she was a woman in a corporate office with a bunch of men who didn’t trust her. She had to work twice as hard to get things done her way.

The silence was interrupted by her stomach growling loud enough for Harry to hear it. He sighed and rolled his eyes like it was a major inconvenience for him. “What, Harry? What?” She grumbled.

“Why don’t y’jus’ eat before y’leave?”

“I told you, I’m nervous about my presentation today.”

“What’s your excuse for the other days?”

“Happy Monday,” she grumbled and put her head on the window. But of course, at that moment Harry stomped on the brake as he was wont to do. Meaning her head all but smacked off the glass. “Ow! For God’s sake, Harry! You don’t have to slam on the brakes!”

“I’m not,” she pulled the visor down to look in the mirror to inspect her forehead as if it was going to create a bruise instantly. “My God, you’re dramatic,” he muttered under his breath.

“You drive like a grandma,” she retorted.

“What, safely?!” He hissed through his teeth. He wanted to actually slam on the brakes. Her stomach growled again only further fueling his annoyance with her. Pinching the bridge of his nose, he pulled off the closest exit and headed for a nearby coffee shop so she could get a pastry or something for her.

“We don’t need to stop.”

“You need t’eat something. Sounds like y’trapped an animal in there.”

Her cheeks felt warm with his comparison. “That’s so fucking rude Harry.”

“I don’t care, y’need t’eat!”

“I’m not hungry. I’m nervous about my presentation.”

“S’gonna be a shitty presentation if y’stomach keeps growling over the sound of your voice.”

She inhaled deeply, closed her eyes and turned to look at the window. “I’m too nervous to eat; thank you for caring in your overbearing, aggressive way, but I won’t eat anything. I’ll eat a granola bar from my desk when we get to the office,” she explained.

Harry rolled his eyes and shook his head but returned to the highway after their tiny detour. “You’re sure?”

“Yup. Can’t eat in the car anyway and I don’t want to be any later than we already are.”

“Late,” his eyes were going to get stuck trying to look at the back of his brain. “You’re ridiculous.”

The spat simmered tensely in the silent air between them. They went a whole four minutes without arguing. That had to be a record, even for them.

*

The drive home was much less tense almost always. Usually, they were both too drained to speak to one another, so it made it a lot easier to tolerate the other person’s existence.

So, it was Harry’s fault that they argued again on the way home.

“How was your presentation?” He asked politely.

“Fine,” she shrugged.

“Jus’ fine?” He frowned. “Y’were all worked up ‘bout it this morning.”

“Yeah, because no one takes me seriously,” she snorted, but her laugh didn’t have a trace of real humor in it.

“Right, so it was just fine?”

“What are you looking for here Harry?” Her irritation was evident in her voice.

“I don’t know, a better adjective? Y’got through t’them? They hated it? Fine makes y’sound like a teen coming home from school.”

She rolled her eyes. “They’re going to table my idea for another day,” she sounded exhausted, and Harry was tired too, so in hindsight, he was willing to take the entire blame for the argument and subsequent tense ride home.

“How do y’feel ‘bout that?”

“What do you even care for, Harry? What’s with the interrogation?”

“Forget it,” he sighed. “I was jus’ making conversation. Y’didn’t even ask how my day was.”

“How was your day?” She snapped.

“Fine.”

Her hands clenched into fists in her lap, and she inhaled deeply. “Don’t talk to me,” she grumbled.

“Fine by me.”

*

She drove every other day; it was their routine. It saved wear and tear on their cars and since her car was a hybrid, they really saved on gas and were doing their part to save the environment. If either of them had a car appointment or stayed home sick, then the other one would of course drive and they would pick up the following day, right where they left off.

When she drove, however, Harry was even grumpier, somehow. Though, it seemed impossible someone could be grumpier. But she made him leave an hour earlier than necessary. Harry was already awake and ready but he very much enjoyed a gradual wake up. He liked the time in the morning to do the daily NYT crossword puzzle and to meditate or workout before going to the office.

He did not like arguing an hour earlier than normal.

“It’s for the environment,” she mumbled to herself as Harry approached. He was otherworldly handsome. He looked like he should have been a model, not a financial wizard. His hair was perfectly messy, his eyes sparkled, and his entire frame was just meant to tempt her. In a suit (which he wore every weekday), he looked fan-fucking-tastic. Everything ironed crisply, his tie perfectly straight. He was sincerely hot—there was no other way to describe him.

But his weekend look? When she saw him out and about lounging in joggers and T-shirts that clung to every muscle in his torso? That was her favorite version of him. They usually ran into each other on nice weather days when they both wanted sunshine and air. Harry jogged a lot. She would read on the bench in front of her building. Sometimes they saw one another at the grocery store. But given they spent two hours every day in an enclosed area and argued for nearly the entire time, they were not spending any more of their weekend doing the same thing, so not much more than a polite hello was said between them.

“Good morning,” he murmured as he got in and settled his bag at his feet. Harry didn’t have a presentation to prep so he was planning on sleeping and meditating this morning with his head propped against the window.

“Morning,” she answered softly.

“Sleep okay?” He asked. “The rain and wind woke me a lot.”

“Same,” she agreed. “You’re going to try and sleep then?”

“Mmm,” he hummed. “S’that okay?”

“Yeah, of course.”

It felt less tense today. We’re not going to argue, she thought to herself.

While Harry slept, she remained focused on the road. Her mind making a mental to do list for when she arrived at the office. She knew Harry hated getting there early, but her brain focused so much better without people constantly bothering her.

For a company that clearly had it out for a woman in finance, they sure did need her a whole lot.

She had music on low that she sang quietly along with while Harry slept. If it bothered him, he didn’t say anything today.

Even with Harry sleeping most of the way, it had to be a record that they didn’t argue all the way until they were a mere five minutes from their building. Naturally, their getting along came to an abrupt end. A truck roared in front of her, cutting her off and merging with very little space between them so it could get to the next lane and off at the next turn. It made her gasp and slam on her brakes at the same time. Instinctively, she tossed her arm out to save Harry from whiplash, her arm pressed to the front of his body. “What the fuck!?” He shouted and jolted awake.

“Sorry! Sorry! I was—” She dropped her arm quickly and her hand went back to the steering wheel quickly, hiding the shake she felt in it.

“Were y’letting someone randomly go again?”

She had a penchant for being too polite on the road—it was Harry’s least favorite thing about her driving habits. “N-no—” her palms were sweating against the wheel, her heart pounding as she gripped at it tighter. She parked and felt a wave of frustration and worry fall over her. Even some embarrassment as Harry yelled at her.

She hated being cut off by another driver. It made her so nervous. She wasn’t a car person, but hers was her baby. She didn’t want anything to happen to it and if being a little extra nice and cautious on the road would keep it safe, then she would do it.

“S’more dangerous t’be polite,” he grumbled. “Jesus Christ.”

“I’m sorr—”

“Jus’ another reason we should get here so fucking early,” he snapped. “Forget it,” he shook his head and got out of the car and headed into the building without looking at her again. Still shaking, she pouted, took a few calming breaths and composed herself before she followed Harry’s path to their office building.

*

On the ride home she stopped for coffee and kindly purchased Harry one as well without asking—but when he heard her order it at the drive-through, he felt the argument from the morning disappearing slowly from his mind. “Thanks,” he mumbled from beside her.

“You’re welcome,” she figured less would be more in talking to him—especially after their morning.

But it didn’t help that she let two people merge in front of her as they got on the highway—almost like she was still nervous from this morning. Harry sighed heavily, like he was personally inconvenienced by her kindness to other drivers. She ignored it and continued home. Harry watched as she bit into a powdered donut she got. He rolled his eyes.

“What?” She asked through a mouthful, the sugar floated all over herself and her gearshift. He shook his head.

“S’a messy donut.”

“It’s my car,” she pouted. It was hard to take her seriously when she had powdered sugar all over her mouth. She was pretty adorable with sugar all over her cheeks, though, Harry would give her that.

“If y’want t’trade y’car in, they like it to be clean.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m not getting rid of her ever.”

He just shook his head again. Some mornings she ate a breakfast sandwich and Harry watched the crumbs of her croissant rain on her outfit like confetti while she drove with one hand on the wheel. His car was pristine while hers was not. There were half empty water bottles in the back and random pieces of her “emergency” kit strewn about in the boot of her car in a way that Harry doubted would ever help if there was truly an emergency. There were blankets and reusable grocery bags all across the backseat—there was just no order. Which was so weird because she was one of the most organized people he knew.

“Y’know y’shouldn’t use plastic water bottles,” he rebuked as he caught sight of another one on the floor behind him.

She sighed. “I recycle them, Harry. Do you honestly think I don’t care about the environment when we carpool every day? Do you think that arguing with you for an hour and a half every day is because I hate the environment?”

“Forget it,” he sighed not wanting to argue. “How was your day?” He asked trying to recreate the tension free car ride that was present first thing this morning before they fought in the parking lot.

“It was okay,” she shrugged but immediately, Harry knew it was a lie. He quirked one eyebrow at her in disbelief and her unsure tone. With a bigger sigh, she relented. “I got yelled at for something that wasn’t my fault and then I didn't even get an apology when they realized it wasn’t.”

Harry frowned. “Did y’say something?”

“Did I try to hurt the male ego?" She shook her head with another eye roll. "Harry, I would never.”

He smirked and looked out the window. She was funny. Even if she was annoying. “Y’have no problem hurting my ego.”

“I hurt your ego?” She asked in surprise. He shrugged and nodded with a smirk still on his lips. That cute little wrinkle between her eyebrows pinched together and made itself known again. Harry once more was overcome by how adorable she was. He didn’t understand her question. Or why she cared. But he wished he had paid closer attention to her reaction because she suddenly looked so upset. “I didn’t know that,” her voice was soft. “I’m... I’m sorry, Harry,” and it really sounded like she was.

He blinked. “S’fine,” he shrugged one shoulder. “I know y’don’t mean it.”

“I don’t, truly.” It felt really important that Harry knew that. Maybe it was her crummy day. Coworkers continued to not trust her nor believe she was capable of doing well, which made her feel worse. God why did she continue working where she wasn’t wanted? Where she wasn’t appreciated? She was still a little shaken from her almost accident and her uncanny ability to piss Harry off. She was suddenly very forlorn over the idea that she had hurt Harry in any way. “How...how was your day?” She asked tentatively her voice catching.

“It was good,” he nodded, but he was looking at her suspiciously and the sound of anxiety coating her words. “Ordinary... Nothing t’really report... Who yelled at you, by the way?”

“No one, it’s nothing,” she shook her head quickly.

Harry rolled his eyes. “Then jus’ tell me, love. S’not a big deal.”

She sighed, irritated, dejected, and tired of arguing. “Do you know Jason?”

Harry scoffed. “He’s a prick and can’t add two plus two. Don’t let him get t’you. Sorry he yelled at you.”

It was one of the nicest things Harry had ever said on her behalf. “S’not your fault,” she mumbled.

“Yeah, but he shouldn’t. M’sure y’do everything perfectly. He’s probably jealous and stupid and everything else.”

“Thank you,” her voice was still soft. Her eyes felt misty at his kindness. Harry being nice on top of her shitty day was so overwhelming—too overwhelming.

Harry noticed right away. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, m’fine,” she nodded, wiping at her cheek.

“Y’don’t look fine, love... Why don’t y’pull over? I don’t want you t’drive if you’re emotional. S’not safe.”

She sniffed. “It’s fine. I’m just being overly sensitive. Not a lot of sleep and... It just... it wasn’t a very good day,” she swiped her hand beneath her nose and wiped her below her eye again while her words got caught in her throat a few times as she spoke.

“Hey,” his voice was gentle. More gentle than it ever had been toward her. “Please, love... jus’ pull over,” he encouraged quietly, he placed a hand on her shoulder. “Love, please,” he pleaded. “S’okay t’be emotional.”

“No, it’s not,” she whimpered but pulled to the shoulder of the road at the same time as she heaved on a shaky breath. Cars whizzed past them and Harry watched her closely. “I work in a sea of testosterone, and I’m never appreciated, never respected, and I can’t be emotional,” she fanned her hand in front of her eyes trying to will the tears away. “Especially in front of you.”

“Me?” He pouted, anger took the forefront of his mind, but he had never seen her like this. He felt bad because she was so upset. So, he refrained from snapping back at her.

“You’ll just use it against me or save it for a rainy day to embarrass me.”

“Is that what you really think?” He tutted, his voice devoid of emotion.

She sniffled again. “Yeah... you yelled at me this morning... I didn’t mean to jostle you like that but someone cut me off and—”

She was still upset about that? That seemed like a lifetime ago. Yeah, Harry was irritated, but he felt bad she was holding onto something so small all day. It wasn’t that big of a deal. Her day must have been really shitty if she let one of their arguments take hold of her emotions all day long.

“Hey... hey don’t cry. M’sorry—I shouldn’t have—it doesn’t matter... But y’have t’know, I would never do that, love. M’sorry if I’ve made y’feel that way,” he soothingly rubbed her arm up and down. “S’okay,” he reassured her. “M’gonna drive the rest of the way home. Jus’ slide over for me, love, yeah?” He asked and before she could protest, he was getting out of the car and going to the driver’s side. Not that she really wanted to protest.

But she would have if they were in a parking lot or on a non-highway road. She tried the door handle but Harry shook his head as he approached the driver’s door and jutted his chin to the passenger seat again. Again, she might have argued, but she didn’t want Harry subjected to the busy traffic for any longer, so she awkwardly slid over the console as Harry stayed pressed to the side of the car.

One small piece of her brain realized the most handsome man she knew wasn't letting her get out on the traffic-side. It was a protective, chivalrous moment that made her stomach do a somersault.

Once in the passenger seat, she brushed the powdered sugar that was on the driver's side just before he sat and got powder all over her pants. “Why don’t y’nap or something?” He suggested quietly and pulled into traffic again without any other fanfare.

“Alright,” she sniffed. “Thanks, sorry again.”

“No problem, love,” he mumbled and drove the rest of the way home in silence. He hoped she felt a little better by the time he parked and gently shook her awake. He didn’t say much other than he would see her tomorrow and returned her keys to her. “Have a good night, love,” he murmured as he gathered his belongings and left before they could return to their natural instinct of arguing with one another.

*

After her mini meltdown she was really hopeful that they had turned a corner in their arguing. She couldn’t remember who started the first argument so long ago. When they realized they lived near one another and worked at the same place, it only made sense to carpool. But she didn’t know they would find fault in every little thing.

Harry was constantly late. (But he wasn’t. Not really. He was on time. Which may as well have been late in her book.) It made her insane. He braked too hard—just like the other day. His choice in podcasts was too real and scary at times (she couldn’t get on the true crime train). His favorite book genre was history, which was fine, but he often made fun of the lighter romance novels she liked. There was the no eating in the car rule. And of course, there was his constant backseat driving—it was never-ending.

It's for the environment. She reminded herself.

It was another long day. Her meetings didn’t go well. Her coworkers undervalued her worth and if wasn’t for the fact that her main supervisor gave her stunning reviews and the money was so good, she would have quit ages ago.

Harry was irritated, and she wasn’t sure why. She had cleaned her car over the weekend. She even had it detailed so it was as pretty as Harry’s car. All her blankets were neatly folded, water bottles recycled, and she organized the trunk. There was a new air freshener and everything.

And yet, Harry was still annoyed. He turned the fan off. Twice. She adjusted the settings, they hadn’t even left the parking garage, and he still turned it off. “S’hot.”

“It’s not hot,” she grumbled.

“It feels like m’sweating. Gonna have a heat stroke.”

“Well, I’m cold.”

“Of course you are.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

It seemed Harry’s day wasn’t too good either as he was just as willing to argue and just as willing to stand his ground. While they argued they continued turning the temperature knob from one extreme to the other.

“You’re gonna break it!” She whined.

“You’re such a brat.”

Her neck snapped to face him. Her cheeks felt hot with embarrassment. “A brat!?” Her voice was three octaves higher than normal. It felt like the car was shaking.

“Yes, a brat who throws a fit when y’don’t get your way. All the time. Y’want t’leave an hour earlier. Y’want t’eat in the car. Roll the windows down, no now up. Y’want t’listen t’your dumb radio station that is ninety-percent ads. You’re. A. Brat.”

She did slam on her brakes at his explanation. She pulled toward the sidewalk right outside their office building. “Get. Out.”

Harry stared in disbelief. “You’re joking,” he cackled.

“I’m tired of arguing. You’re such a dick to me all the time,” she smacked her hand on the steering wheel. “I had a bad day, and you clearly had a bad day and you can’t leave well enough alone! So yeah. The environment can spare two less people carpooling. Get out of my fucking car, Harry Styles before I run us both into a telephone pole.”

“You’re so judgmental and so ridiculous—”

“Get out!” She practically shrieked.

Harry glared, yanking his stuff from where it sat at his feet. He got out of the car, slamming her door hard. He wouldn’t be surprised if it got stuck shut or if the whole frame shook as he did so. She peeled off the curb leaving Harry to fume. They never fought like that. Almost all their arguments always ended in a quiet “good night” or “have a good day.” Never did she shove him out of the car.

He was simmering with anger. He paced a few steps on the sidewalk trying to calm himself to figure out what to do. Maybe he could call her back. An Uber was going to cost a small fortune to get back home. Worth it, he supposed. God, she drained the life out of him.

He was breathing heavily. Good riddance. It was a dumb idea trying to carpool with someone that made him infuriated. Incensed with the feeling of being right, he scrolled on his app for a new ride.

Before he could submit his request for the most expensive Uber in the history of the world, all anger left his body—floated away as if it wasn’t even there in the first place.

There was a screech of tires and a sickening crunch of metal. Harry looked up just in time to see her car do a full 360 before landing upside down in the middle of the intersection. Her car teetered back and forth as it balanced on the roof. His jaw went slack as he watched the car of the pretty girl he was just arguing with crunch in the middle of the roadway. He was practically ready to strangle her himself but he never wanted—

“Oh my God,” he whispered to himself. Before he fully grasped his own movements he was sprinting into the middle of the roadway.

Without knowing what else to do, he knelt to the ground in a spray of plastic, metal, and glass, his face was almost pressed to the ground as he tried to peer into the only available space. “Baby? You with me?” He asked looking at the terrified, shaking girl. There was blood pouring from her hairline, her hands gripped the steering wheel around the deployed airbag like she was still driving.

“H-Harry?” She whispered. A switch flipped inside him. He wanted to rip the upside-down door off and yank her out. He wanted to hold her. All those annoying things she did, they didn’t bother him anymore. She was so pretty, so sweet, and so funny. The mere thought of her injured, terrified him and broke his heart. He didn't know he felt that way and he was mortified that it took this to realize it.

“M’here, love. M’here, you’re okay, just focus on me,” he was shaking as he dialed on his phone for the emergency line. “There’s been a car crash in the intersection outside of Prosperis Financial,” he said. “There’s at least one injured party.”

“Harry,” she whimpered.

“I know. I know, my love. I know,” he cooed.

God how could he be so stupid? How could he get out of the car? How could he take so long to get out of the car? If they just didn’t fight, they would have been through the intersection and—

“Harry, my head hurts,” she interrupted his spiraling.

“I know, kitten, I know,” he repeated.

“A-and my leg hurts really bad,” she whispered a small break in her voice. She was shocked and in near tears.

“Don’t move your neck, baby,” he ordered.

“I’m scared,” she cried.

“I know, love, I know, m’scared too. But m’not going t'leave you for one second, baby, okay? You’re going t’be fine, everything’s going t’be fine,” he sounded pretty reassuring considering he was freaking out too.

“I didn’t—I didn't see it,” she sniffled.

“S’not your fault, kitten. S’okay. You’re okay, love. Just breathe, and keep talking, yeah?”

“I didn’t mean to yell at you...” she croaked, the anxiety in her voice broke his heart. He hated she felt she had to say it. “I don’t mean to, ever. I-I don’t know why—”

“Shh… we’re not talking ‘bout that. S’okay, my love. We’re okay,” he promised. She could argue whatever she wanted. Harry was in complete agreement. She was right. Every time. He did brake too hard. She wasn’t too nice to others on the road. She could eat in the car or have the heat on in the middle of the summer. Whatever she wanted.

“Okay... I'm sorry,” her voice sounded quiet.

“Help is coming, baby. M’not gonna leave your side, yeah? Jus’ hang on a little bit longer. I know—”

“I’m sorry I eat in your car sometimes,” she whispered her voice cracking more as she apologized for things that no longer mattered. “I’m sorry I’m a brat—”

“No, no, my love. You’re not a brat... shh...” he couldn’t tear his eyes away from her figure, clutching the wheel like she was scared to let go. His heart was aching to do something more, beating too loud in his ears. He wanted to keep her talking. Wanted to rip her out of the car and make sure she was alright. She could do whatever she wanted in his car for the rest of her life. As far as he was concerned, he would be driving her every day for the rest of time. She was never getting behind the wheel again. “S’okay, baby. Whatever makes y’happy.”

She sniffled. “Harry, I don’t feel very good,” she mumbled. “My head hurts.”

“I know it does, kitten,” his voice cracked hearing the exhaustion in her voice. “I’d trade with y’in a heartbeat,” he mumbled.

She sniveled. “I wanna get out.”

“I know, my love. M’trying. They’ll be here soon.”

“I’m scared,” her voice was soft again.

“Baby, I know,” he groaned. Where the fuck was the ambulance?!

She closed her eyes and took a deep breath. “I’m glad you weren’t in the car,” she whispered. His heart shattered.

“M’not, kitten. M’not glad at all,” he shook his head.

“I think I’m going to pass out,” she warned and then her neck went limp.

“Baby?” Her hands slid from the steering wheel and her head lolled to the side. “Shit!” Harry reached through the broken glass, but the angle was too awkward, and he couldn’t see and reach at the same time. “Kitten, love,” his voice pitched an octave higher with hysteria quickly flooding him. “Baby? Open your eyes! Please,” he begged. “Kitten? Come on,” he muttered reaching blindly for her again. “Fuck,” he croaked.

“Excuse us, sir,” an EMT was finally at his side pushing Harry out of the way. He covered his mouth, sitting back on his heels as they pulled the car to its wheels once more. There was a flurry of movement as they pried through the metal and glass to get her. He choked on his breath as they removed her and he swallowed hard, his heart felt broken as they put a brace around her neck and lifted her onto a stretcher—still unconscious much to his horror. “Are you the boyfriend? Coming on the ambulance?” the paramedic asked.

“Yes,” he answered immediately and filed in behind them.

*

Harry called her mom and sister. They were on their way. He paced the waiting room with the biggest teddy bear the shop had to purchase while he waited for her surgery and tests to end. It felt endless. Harry thought he had aged ten years during the time he was there waiting.

He also got her a balloon—a heart shaped one that said get well soon. He got flowers. And chocolate too. Once he saw her pretty eyes open again and her family was present, he was going to get her a coffee and breakfast sandwich too.

His clothes were dirty from lying in the street, the knees of his slacks had the tiniest holes and rips. His cheek had a few cuts and scratches from pressing it to the ground while he spoke to her upside-down body.

“Are you the boyfriend?”

He shook the thoughts of seeing her bleeding, terrified body away from his mind at the sound of someone speaking to him.

It was hard to believe only yesterday he would have shuddered at the thought. “Yes,” he answered instantly, not caring in the slightest that he was lying for the second time in several hours about their relationship status. “Is she alright?”

“She’s fine,” the doctor stated. Harry sighed with relief, dragged a hand through his hair and swallowed around the relieved tears that filled his eyes and cut off the voice in his throat. He coughed awkwardly.

“Can I see her?” He asked. “Please?”

“Yes, she’s just coming out of the anesthesia,” he explained and tilted his head toward the hallway. Harry grabbed all his presents for her and followed. “She’s a little out of it still,” he warned.

“But she’s okay?” He repeated like he didn't believe the doctor.

“Yes, she’s fine,” he knocked and opened the door.

“Oh, your boyfriend is here, miss,” an older nurse smiled at her as she fiddled with her pillows and the IV stand.

The sweet girl looked high as a kite, her eyes wide, the cut on her forehead stitched. “I don’t have a boyfriend,” she frowned. That cute wrinkle between her brows appeared and Harry wanted nothing more than to smooth it away and ease the tension she felt.

“You might want to rethink that,” a woman smiled at Harry with a wink. “He’s very cute and he brought you gifts.”

“Hi, kitten, baby,” he cooed and crouched beside her bed.

“You’re my boyfriend?” She mumbled in surprise. Her eyes were so wide with the loopy medicine, and he smirked, tears filling his eyes again.

“Yes, my love,” he didn’t even feel like he was lying. To her nor to himself about their relationship. It made sense and he truly adored her so easily. He was grateful for the switch in his mind, he just wished a car accident wasn't the cause.

She smiled, self-satisfied. “I knew you liked me,” she mumbled.

He chuckled and leaned forward to press his lips against her forehead. “Y’okay, baby?” He asked.

“They gave me medicine,” she explained holding up her arm that had three or four needles sticking in it.

“Easy, kitten,” he grabbed her outstretched arm and cupped her hand in both of his with a chuckle. He brought her fingers to his mouth and kissed her knuckles as the nurse pulled a chair up beside her for Harry to sit in.

“Harry," she said suddenly. Like he wasn't listening to her or paying attention to every little movement. "I broke my leg,” she pouted.

“M’sorry, kitten,” he was livid she was injured but with pain meds she was so cute and adorable that he almost chuckled at the way she sighed and frowned about her situation.

She glanced at their interconnected hands. “Have we been dating long? I didn’t know I had a boyfriend. Do I have amnesia?”

He snickered, kissed her fingers again. “No,” he shook his head. “S’quite new.”

“Oh,” she blinked and a smile grew on her face. “I like that you’re my boyfriend,” she sighed dreamily. “Isn’t he hot?” She asked the nurse who was checking her vitals again. Harry rolled his eyes, smirking and looking away from her and the nurse at her appraisal. It was good to know she felt affected by his presence as well. He liked her loopy thoughts and he hoped they would remain true when the medicine wore off. “Did you call my mom?” She asked curiously.

He nodded, cleared his throat as he focused on more important facts and not worrying about their fake relationship status. “Yes, she’s on her way with your sister. I need t’call them, actually,” he pulled his phone out.

“How did you get their number?”

“I looked them up on social media,” he mumbled keeping hold of one hand as he pressed the phone to his ear.

“Harry?” Her sister’s voice asked alertly.

“Hi Thea, she’s okay. M'sitting with her now. She’s loopy from the anesthesia but she’s awake.”

“Tell her to get me coffee,” she whispered loudly. Loud enough for her sister to hear through the phone. Harry smiled.

Thea sighed with relief and snickered. “Sounds like her,” she mumbled. “Thank you, Harry. We’re about twenty minutes out.”

“Of course,” he assured her. “You’ll tell your mum?” He asked.

“Yes, I got it.”

“See you soon.”

Harry placed his phone back in his pocket and watched her loopy mind work through something on her extremely expressive face. “Are you going to kiss me?” She giggled.

Harry laughed. “Later, baby.”

“When’s later?”

“When you’re a little coherent, m’love.”

She blew a breath through her lips making them sputter. “S’not fair.”

“I know,” the smile remained on his face knowing she was okay, and she wanted him to kiss her. It was a bit wild that the switch flipped so rapidly. This was someone he argued with for over two years every day and now he wanted to kiss her, hold her, and never let her go.

“Can I take a nap?” She yawned. “I’m sleepy.”

Harry turned to the nurse. “Can she? Does she have a concussion?”

“Shockingly, no concussion,” the nurse said reading the chart. “You can nap for a bit.”

She closed her eyes instantly. “Night Harry,” she sighed. “I love you.”

He felt his cheeks warm. Ignored her sweet words regardless of how much he would like them to be true. “Night, baby,” he chuckled and pressed another kiss to her forehead as she drifted to sleep without letting go of his hand.

*

When she woke up the next time she was staring at Harry in awe.  “Thea, I’m fine,” she rolled her eyes. The anesthesia had worn off a bit and she didn’t seem to remember she said I love you nor that Harry claimed to be her boyfriend. While she was hesitant to believe that Harry was really there for her, she was glad he was. She was foggy on the details but there was no mistaking that she felt a pull toward him. Maybe it was the kindness he showed her.

“You live in a fourth-floor apartment. You’re not fine. And your car is trash.”

Harry sat quietly to the side of the room while her mom and sister doted on her. Her mom was on the phone with the insurance company taking notes and questioning a lot. “Well, what am I supposed to do? I don't have a choice, I have to figure it out,” she shrugged.

“Figure what out? You’re going to just stay in your apartment for the next six weeks? You’ll go insane. And what if there’s a fire?”

“The chances of me getting in a car wreck and have my apartment catch on fire is probably astronomically small.”

Harry chuckled from his spot, but the sisters ignored him. “You hate your job. Why don’t you just quit and move back home for a bit?

Back home? Harry thought. Not next door? That wouldn't work for Harry's already obsessed heart. “I have a spare bedroom,” Harry said in offering. “First floor apartment in m'building next t'hers,” he was speaking to Thea and not her.

She and Thea both turned to look at him. “I cannot—” She started.

“Really?” Thea interrupted. “You won’t mind? She’s going to need... a lot of help.”

“I can handle it,” he assured her. Thea knew they drove together. She was also well aware that her sister and Harry argued every day. There was no way Harry was going to survive taking care of her if they couldn’t spend more than five minutes in a car without arguing with one another. She watched Harry, bewildered by his kindness toward her. His willingness to take care of her and let her be a burden when he couldn’t stand her most days. “Are y’alright with that, love?”

It might have only been minutes between arguing and her accident, but the change of heart in herself over Harry was something to be admired. Harry was there almost before her airbag finished deploying. He kept her as calm as he could while they waited for the ambulance and promised her it would be okay. He reassured her that all their arguing didn’t mean anything and she softened. She felt herself melting for him. All the little things he did no longer bothered her. He really didn’t slam on the brakes. It was rude of her to want to eat in his car and make a mess. Perhaps it was too hot in her car and she was a little too mean about his favorite book genre.

Am I in love with Harry? She thought to herself. “If...if you’re sure... That’s an awful lot of time to spend with me,” she reminded him wondering if it was only her that was warmed by the near-death experience and she was imagining the knight-and-shining-armor-complex.

“Happy to,” he nodded and remained in his seat.

Harry was holding her hand when her sister and mom arrived, he gave her a gentle shake and called her kitten. Kitten your mum s’here. His voice was so warm and soothing. He didn’t remove his hand until she opened her eyes and his kind smile was a sweet greeting. He cupped her face and brushed his thumb against her jaw. M’gonna sit by the window while they visit, yeah?

“Do you ladies need anything?” He asked standing. “Coffee? Tea? Food?”

“All set, thank you Harry,” her mom smiled around the phone.

“I’m good too,” Thea nodded.

“Baby, all good?”

She nearly choked on her own spit hearing the pet name directed at her, in front of her family.  “Yes,” she murmured then shook her head. “Um... maybe just water?”

“Sure, love. Be right back.”

“I thought he hated you,” Thea was smiling excitedly.

“I thought he did too,” she shrugged a shoulder.

“You’re just going to live with him?”

She smirked. “Keep your friends close and your enemies closer, right?”

*

Harry carried all her stuff into his apartment and settled it in the spare room. He made sure she was safe in his apartment while he went with her sister to her place to get a suitcase of her clothes from next door. Harry was going to take her to get a new car as soon as the insurance check came through. He helped her to the couch and made sure she felt comfortable. Her foot was propped on a pillow as she stretched out on his furniture. For six weeks they were going to live together.

“Are y'in any pain? Do y’need anything?” He asked making sure she had the remote, a book, water, and blanket all within reach.

“M’fine,” she nodded.

“You sure y’don’t need anything?” He frowned.

“Harry,” she reached for his hand and held it. “Could you sit with me?”

His frown deepened. He crouched beside her, sitting on the coffee table close to her. He squeezed her hand. “What’s wrong?”

“Thank you for being there for me,” she whispered. “I was very scared.”

“Course, baby.”

Her heart skipped a beat with the sweet name again. “Do you like me?” She whispered.

“Was I unclear?” He asked, reaching for her face. His hand fit her cheek perfectly and he rubbed his thumb on her lower lip. The way his eyes softened as he looked at her was the stuff of her romance novels. His eyelids lowered and the smile on his mouth was equal parts sexy as it was innocent. “S’a little selfish of me inviting you here while you recover, don't y'think? S'a reason for it, love."

She cleared her throat, trying not to melt under his touch, his gaze. It seemed impossible. “But... we—we,” she took a deep breath trying to get the sentence in her head to form in her mouth. “Argue so much.”

“S’maybe we could try not arguing.”

“I feel like we’re incapable—”

He interrupted and normally she would have been mad, but his words made her feel hot, burning, like she wasn’t going to get relief unless he kissed her. “Jus’ gotta find a different way t’keep our mouths entertained, kitten,” he leaned forward and stopped when their lips were all but a millimeter apart. “May I?” He asked politely.

“Uh-huh, yes,” she nodded, her brain short circuiting just a hair. Her lips brushed his as she nodded, creating a spark of electricity unlike anything she had felt before. He moaned quietly at the contact. The sound was short-lived, and he tilted her chin and slid his lips over hers.

She gripped at his shirt by his shoulders, pulling him toward her. She felt herself opening to him: her mouth, her brain, her legs. She wanted him all over her and he couldn’t get close enough. It felt insane that less than twenty-four hours ago she would have strangled him for breathing too loudly beside her in the enclosed space of his car and now she wanted him breathing too loudly because of her kisses and more.

He caressed her jaw and the back of her head, tugging her hair ever so softly so she tilted her head back further. “S’nice, baby,” he sighed softly and trailed a path of kisses down her throat. “Knew we could not argue.”

She laughed and nodded. “Guess that’s what’s been missing.”

He chuckled. “Mmm,” he hummed in agreement. “Worth it,” he shrugged one shoulder and dove back in for another heated kiss, making her moan quietly into his mouth. His lips were warm, soft, firm, and perfect. It was a quick path to addiction, and she was happy to have him as her drug.

“Y’said y’loved me when y’came out of anesthesia,” he practically giggled as he pulled away.

She gasped. “I did not.”

“You did.”

“NO.” She slapped a hand over her warm, embarrassed face. “No I didn’t. You're lying.”

“You did, kitten. So sweet of you,” he winked.

She groaned and turned away from him. “I should have just gone into a coma.”

He laughed stroking her cheeks with his thumbs. “It was cute. You were all loopy.”

“I am not cute. I’m an adult woman and I’m not cute.”

“You’re adorable, actually. S’probably why m’obsessed with you.”

“You only knew you were obsessed with me twenty-four hours ago.”

He shrugged. “And I can’t get enough,” he assured her with a wink. “Now, m’thinking I’ll kiss you for another long while and then I’ll make you dinner?”

Her heart fluttered. “I like you a lot better when we don’t argue," she agreed.

He chuckled. “Me too, kitten. Me too,” he mumbled but followed through on his promise to kiss her again and not argue.

--

general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

@tenaciousperfectionunknown @classychalamet @love-letters-to-uranus @emmaawbr @crossyourpeter

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@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

@fangirl7060 @triski73 @vikiii07 @prettygurl-2009 @mads3502

@angeldavis777 @tchlamqtsgf @lizsogolden @me-undiscovered @you-sunshine

@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl @emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10 @tulips4harry @spinninc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269 @jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry @dutchtheatrelore @copiastricycle @mypolicemanharryyy @harry2121 @inharryshelter

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[outer-andromeda]

Just saw your doodle of spamton in just boxers. I can't tell I'm getting gender envy from him and need to start transing my gender more or if I want to gay sex with him. Dare I say peak

THIS ASK IS A WHOLE FUCKEN' ROLLERCOASTER RIDE AND I LOVE IT. YOU HAVE NO IDEA HOW MUCH I LOVE IT.

You know what? Here's some more trans Spam doodles. Just for you, Anon. As a treat.

[crystallizsch]

yuusha's version of this 👀

[dollopole]

They both knew.

[cicada-candy]

The crowd bit at the end of Goliath was a Religious Experience.

[cutter-kirby]

some beebo text posts

[ry0ubakura]

[galaxy-fleur]

Going strictly off of CV here, but I sooo love how vastly different Wesker is in his treatment of Chris vs everyone else. He's so detached and methodical in his violence towards Claire, treating her as nothing but a nuisance that isn't worth half his effort. In a way, that makes his cruelty towards her even scarier, knowing he literally just does not care enough to give her the time of day or treat her as a person worth making much direct conversation to. And, of course, the only moments he does show some personal interest with her is when he's pondering the possibility of hurting Chris through causing harm to her. He does not care about Claire or her pain, not one bit. He's only keeping her under his boot so she doesn't cause trouble. The only thing he does care about is Chris' potential response to what he's doing.

Compare this to his beat downs with Chris. He's fully engaged with him, practically bursting with emotion, be it glee, malice or pride. With Claire, he is methodical, calculated. With Chris, you can argue he is almost purposefully showing off to him on some level. He needs to see that shocked look in his eyes, and he'll make sure he gets exactly that. It does make you wonder which version of Wesker is scarier to deal with. The cold, detached one that will get rid of you in the quickest, most efficient way possible without batting an eye? Or the pompous, sadistic one that will gladly take his sweet time tormenting you, if only to have you squirming at his feet for his own entertainment?

I love this duality in him, genuinely. You could argue he makes himself vulnerable with Chris by getting so lost in the chase, so to speak. Which is another interesting point to think about. Either way, Wesker is one cruel guy to have to deal with.

[kiyomitakada]

This is for research, Light reasons. Curiosity. He’s been on plenty of Kira fanwebsites; it makes sense to conduct an impromptu survey on how he’s seen in a rather different audience.

Research.

He holds his breath and clicks.

Title: got so close (but then you lost it) Rating: E Category: F/F Fandom: Kira Investigation RPF, how the fuck is that a canon tag Ship: L/Kira Tags: Crack, Crack Treated Seriously, Object and Concept Anthropomorphism, i think kira should take the L for once, if you know what i mean - Freeform

Notes: hahahahahaa hiiiii yall bet you thought you’d seen the last of me. its been a couple of rough months but im back! if my therapist sees this uh. sorry? this counts as processing my feelings right

Maybe Light should stop. Surely a work written by someone who doesn't even use apostrophes or punctuation consistently can't be good quality. Besides, what is a work about a serial killer doing in the E rating? Doesn't that mean E for Everyone?

…Then again, it's not like he's reading this for its literary value, he reasons. It's just. Research. Curiosity. If it's really bad, maybe he can make fun of it with Ryuk.

Kira throws the doors of the final room open. Her voice rings out loud and clear: "Where are you, L? Hiding like a coward?" She receives no answer. Kira exhales, brushing her free hand against her T-shirt. There's no need to hurry. She has all the time in the world; the alarms are disabled and she's killed all the guards, after all. Tracking down L's hidden compound had been the difficult part. It was easier than pie to break in. At last, she thinks, this will be her perfect victory.

Oh god. Oh god, someone put effort into this. Light doesn't know whether to be flattered or horrified.

(Why can he hear this in his voice?)

The control room is silent but for the humming of thousands of monitors mounted on the walls, all displaying static now thanks to Kira's interference. "I know you're there, L," Kira says, taking one step forward. Then another. "You can't hide from me forever." "You're right," says a new voice. "I wasn't hiding in the first place." Kira turns towards it, gripping her scythe in one hand—

"My what," Light says aloud.

—and nearly gasps when she identifies the source: the large L painted on the back wall. Her mind whirls. Another recording, just like the one a million people had heard from the TV that day. L's hiding behind an image again. "Very funny," Kira says. She's blocked all the escape routes; the real L must be in this room somewhere. "Show yourself." "As you wish." And then the painted L peels off the wall. Kira jumps back despite herself. The scythe clatters to the ground. The L is just a few centimeters taller than her, a fact that Kira instinctively resents, and it's the same font as what Kira had seen on television: the smooth vertical curve, the jagged angle, the protrusions from the spine. Her heartbeat quickens. Kira, despite being a magical girl—

"I'm a what?!"

—is ultimately still human. This… thing is decidedly not.

"Why am I the human one," Light mutters. She — he hasn't quite gotten the hang of this 'archive' yet, but he's searching for ones where he has wings later.

"What are you?" Kira asks, trying to flatten the tremble in her voice. "I am L," says L. "And I'm a girl, just like you." "You're a letter," Kira says. "An alive letter." "I wasn't always this way," L says. Its — her? — voice is matter-of-fact. "But it was… easier." "Easier to what?" "Tell me, Kira," L says. "Do you ever feel… uncomfortable in your own skin? Do you ever feel like you were born to be something else, something greater, something beyond your original form? Do you ever feel like you died a very long time ago?" Kira swallows, and stays silent. "Well, it doesn't matter," L dismisses. "It's far too late for you to change." "It's too late for anyone to change," Kira corrects. "You've seen recidivism rates. Criminals are rotten all the way to the core."

"That's not right," Light mumbles. Kira isn't just trying to get rid of all evil people in society; Kira is trying to scare everyone into being better. Of course behavior can be changed, corrected. What's the point of a new world if people can't improve on themselves?

…Then again. Light can't help but agree, just a little. Some people are beyond help.

(They have to be. Otherwise, why would the Death Note have dropped into her life?)

(She's doing the world a favor, honestly.)

"And what about me?" "Huh?" "Am I," and L leans in further, the serif tail at the top of the letter almost brushing Kira's cheek, "rotten to the core?" "I…" In an attempt to tear her gaze away from L, Kira finds herself tracing the lines of the letter with her eyes: the mathematically perfect arcs of her back interrupted by those sharp spikes of decoration. She feels herself oddly compelled to touch them.

Light pointedly does not think about the real L's hair.

What is she doing? Kira shakes her head, snapping out of her reverie, and dives for the scythe. Her fingers wrap around it just as she crashes into L's two-dimensional feet and L folds like a blanket, covering her in unexpected warmth before Kira scrambles back to her feet. "Monster," she shouts, pointing the scythe decisively, "I see you thus and I name you L!"

Well. That explains the magical girl thing. In retrospect, it does make more aesthetic sense than the notebook.

The scythe sparks; a beam of light bursts from its tip and — Stops. Kira watches in horror as it fizzes into nothing. A low chuckle fills the room. Something hot surges in Kira's chest: fury. "A bit difficult to conduct your magic when I have no face, isn't it," L says. She's shifted to lounge languidly on the floor, rather than sprawled awkwardly across it. "That's not — fair! Just looking at you should be enough!" "The world isn't fair, my dear Kira," L says. "As I'm sure you know best." Kira's free hand clenches into a fist. There's nothing for it. She's going to have to strangle this letter-girl. She's going to have to stop her breath at its root. "Well, Kira? What are you going to—" Kira drops the scythe and pounces. L twists away too late; Kira is already on her, one foot hooked over the bottom stroke of the letter to prevent her from running, her hands straining towards the juncture between L’s serif and vertical curve. L is so very warm, almost searing under Kira’s fingers as they close around her throat. L groans. The heat in Kira’s chest abruptly changes directions to pool in her stomach. It occurs to her distantly that if L can’t be counted as having a face, it’s entirely possible that she doesn’t need to breathe, either. Kira can’t bring herself to care. Here L is, her worst enemy, completely under Kira’s thumb — the exhilaration leaves Kira’s throat dry. "What do you think of that, L?" She tightens her grip. L makes a choked sound; the two lines of the letter’s throat shudder beneath Kira’s fingers. "You like that?" "Please," L gasps, "I need—" "Use your words," Kira hisses. Curiosity drives her to slide a finger into the crack between the two lines that make up L’s vertical stroke, and to her vicious delight L whimpers. "Come on, L, what do you want?" "Keep doing that," L says. The cool voice from the public broadcast, rendered into shreds. Kira desperately wants her to shut up forever. She unconsciously shifts her weight against L’s bottom stroke, hungry for friction. "Oh god, Kira, I…" "Yeah?" Kira wedges a second finger in, and has to bite her lip to stifle a moan when L bucks against her. "I dreamed about this," L manages, low like a confession. "Dreamed about y

"Light, Sayu! Time for dinner!"

Light slams her laptop shut so quickly she thinks she sprains a finger.

"Coming!" She yells downstairs, wincing at how out of breath she sounds.

Jesus fucking Christ. What was that? Why did she keep reading?

And. And wait. She? No, he. Light’s a he, no matter what weird people on the internet think, the same way L isn’t actually a letter. Right. She must have just gotten confused.

…He must have just gotten confused. Obviously.

(Something in Light’s ribcage pangs.)

He wills the blood away from his cheeks. He shouldn’t be surprised, frankly. Light is perfectly aware there’s porn of everything on the internet, even if it is marked E for Everyone.

…Wait.

Light opens his laptop again, scrolls as fast as he can to the top, then hovers over the E.

Oh. Ohhhh. Well. How was he supposed to know, he sulks. There should be a huge banner proclaiming THERE’S SEX IN THIS FAN FICTION for ease of access to first-time users. The world is truly rotting.

"Light?"

"On my way!"

Light shuts his laptop again, more gently this time, and opens the door.

Do you ever feel like you died a long time ago?

It is far too easy to imagine L’s mouth moving around the words.

Light closes her eyes against it. What a ridiculous question.

She can hear Ryuk’s laughter the whole way down.

[ @deathnotetober day 9: crack ship ]

[plusultraetc]

petition to rename today's episode Recovery Girl bc of the way it healed me

[editorofeverything]

Hear me out: Candace and Jeremy from Phineas and Ferb were everything the mlb team wanted Marinette and Adrian to be

[akkivee]

they ate some of the hypmic curry on the stream today and the moment iwasaki-san heard it was spicy, he backed up and tried to get out of eating it and that’s the correct response to bat’s curry tbh LOL

[snzluv3r]

my allergies are fucking with my sinuses and every time i drink anything cold i start sneezing what the fuck. i get set off by cold and temperature changes but never like this before it better be temporary because i love ice water

[honeycreammilkshake]

i wonder if, in another world where sukuna had said yes and yuuji did take blobkuna back with him, they would watch movies together.

sukuna criticizes all of them and seems to be into only the mindless slasher or horror ones (the gorier the better) but one day yuuji puts on something more serious. sukuna complains the whole time as he sits in yuuji's cupped hands, but then the brat stops arguing with him suddenly and goes quiet during the sad part of the film.

it's not the film that moves sukuna. he didn't even bother to pay attention enough to really know what's going on. but for some reason, when yuuji starts crying, hot tears that drip right down on sukuna, the former king of curses can't look away and he doesn't realize until much later that his own eye is wet as well.

he denies it. he makes fun of yuuji for crying. maybe he even licks yuuji's tears off his wrist just to be gross and rile him up. but he can't stop thinking about how close he felt to yuuji in that one moment, almost like they were sharing bodies again, and maybe he would like to go back to living inside of yuuji. if only to make him cry instead of the movie doing it. or maybe he just likes feeling yuuji's emotions. maybe being inside of yuuji is the closest he can come to feeling those emotions for himself. because maybe it's not such a weakness after all.

[cringearenachamp]

thinking about steve’s relationship with the road crew again... like his first tour being more with the crew, not officially the band; getting to know a lot of them that way maybe (he knew jackie already thru drug shit if herbie is to be believed… :skull:), getting a feel for the labor hierarchies at play, who the power players were, etc. all that meaning he had a far more hands-on experience with various things than maybe others in the band did (?), and further, that he had a more hands-on experience with being a “lower rung” of worker. (he also had that experience before of being a second-fiddle engineer in a studio and very much disliking being second-fiddle and being paid like crap for it-- both of which probably played a role in various future decisions he made for himself and others)

watching the ‘83 roadcrew documentary and steve still comes across as someone who very much cares about the crew’s welfare/working conditions in the few moments he's interviewed about the subject: he’s aware of and grateful for all their work, but also very sympathetic towards them and not happy with how underappreciated it seemed to be. despite all that, he believed some unfortunate right-wing crap about unions, and in the documentary, it's also clear that a lot of the crew draw a sense of purpose and even a re-affirmation of their masculinity from how difficult (in a way that wasn't necessary) their work is. if union power hadn't already been fucked with a lot by reagan, having a good union would have very much helped solve a lot of the crew welfare issues steve mentioned and was concerned about (ex: workload management, consistent and reasonable hours, adequate sick/injury pay). alas!

placing moral value on "hard work" above all else is a neat little trick from the ruling class of the Puritan/Calvinist days of the (pre-)united states that exists to this day-- and always ends up meaning the worker is exploited for that work (and is made to work more and more, for less and less) while the boss gets to sit pretty and count their dough. hmmm...!

the other band members seemed to be very close with their own personal techs, but i’m not sure how far outwards that went (steve of course didn’t need his own tech). the way the crew rallied around steve and comforted him during the encore of his final show with the band also makes it seem that there was at the very least a faction within the crew that liked steve as much as he liked them. (also various personal relationships he had… his maybe-more-dubious one with jackie, but also friendships with benny collins and a few others)

(benny was also a cute bear but that's neither here nor there *ahem*)

also thinking about how herbie came up through the crew hierarchy the “traditional” way and how he felt ownership over the crew as well (via pat, who was someone he very much trusted and was a close friend to him).

steve also, of course, eventually considered herbie his main nemesis within the band structure (and according to herbie, also saw pat as a secondary nemesis of sorts– he didn't give any reasoning for this, but steve did fuck with pat's company in the '85 coup, and pat was racist as fuck in this '83 documentary, so... there could be some reasons). so his motivations around the crew would be both personal and political; self-serving AND sincere. ex: promoting benny collins from Smitty's drum tech to road manager, if that was partially his doing (happened after the escape tour and would fit past patterns of steve trying to promote underdogs to more lucrative positions), was both helping a friend, sticking a middle finger to pat and herbie, crafting an image for himself as a more trustworthy leadership figure for marginalized workers within the organization, and trying to make the leadership structure more diverse.

[coconut530]

BITTERSWEET REUNIONS