#huh actually let me check if you can suggest bands to them too they could do with a bit more in that direction and a bit less

[arsonist-chicken]

Knock knock, don't mind me, just asking how the festival went! Did you have fun? Did you end up watching that scary band after all? Did you make it home safely? The audience (me) wants to know everything!

Definitely not asking this because I miss you, shush, what are you even talking about?

It took a few weeks, but here's the Nova Rock report for you! ✨🦝🌈 it's only 4400 words, have fun.

Huh, I didn’t go 🥺🥺😭💖💗 over "I missed you" and the withdrawal symptoms you mentioned on discord, haha no, what?

The most important things first: I did have so much fun; I did watch the not-actually-scary band, and we did make it home safely and even without any delays (well except the one who had to travel to NRW with the DB but well) with only a weird little sunburn on my back from my shirt with cut-outs at the back.

We took the night train, so I went to the train station, thought "why are there always such weird people here at midnight", then remembered I was sitting there in my pyjamas with my hair still smelling of the fresh hair dye. I read your new chapter, had to stop myself from screaming, asked my sister + friend (NOT the random lady there) what they thought about the blind cat, we found a little ladybug in our compartment who then continued being in our tent, at the camp side, on the train home, and in my room back at home again. He’s actually flying around my lamp right now (well he was when I started writing this, he’s since left for the outsides).

We went with a whole bunch of people (like.. 20? My friend’s brother and his friends and friends of friends, you know), met two VERY annoying drunk Bregenzerwälder with their Hölzler shoes (who the FUCK wears those shoes to a festival??) and luckily lost them again, but everyone who was with us was really cool and chill to hang out with.

They had to cancel the first few bands because of the deep mud the rain had turned the stage areas into, but nothing I wanted to see luckily (although, go listen to Gloryhammer’s “Fly Away”, very fun), so I just sat there at the camping ground with my phone trying to listen to my zoom class (because of course the one lesson the whole semester I really wanted to be at was that week, but well, at least online); and after we went to a band I didn’t know before but someone said they were good, and they were (Coffeshop Company)! Which is something I really like about festivals, you can just go hang out by the stages for a bit to listen to new bands and see them on stage and if you don’t like them, you can just move along to another stage or sit with others by your tents. AND AND AND!! Oh yeah, we saw Evanescence for a bit, they’re okay. BUT MOST IMPORTANTLY. I had been trying to see Rise Against live since I was 14, so 10. Years. now, and now I finally did see them!! And they were everything I expected! They were so energetic and they joked around a bit and the singer pointed out a few signs, and their energy and everything was so good! And their songs are fucking amazing live, they’re SO GOOD. Everyone and their grandmother always insisted on telling me how bad their sound was live, and now I got to judge for myself finally, and they were so GOOD!

BRING ME THE HORIZON BRING ME THE HORIZON BRING ME THE HORIZON! Friday was BMTH day! It was still muddy as hell, like my sister went to the toilets and came back with her whole boots covered up above the ankle in mud, but the organisers really came through and covered the entire stage area with what I learned is called Holzschnitzel (wood chips), so no problems there anymore. We went to see Battle Beast, which – wow, the singer’s voice is unbelievable! She has such power in her voice! We also had some food, my sister dropped a perfectly fine mozzarella stick into the mud (highly relevant info), and my friend and me went to see Maneskin. I wasn’t that excited for them anymore because I don’t like their new music very much, but I thought I’d go see them for a bit, and well – they have amazing stage presence! They just come out and start off right off the bat with such power and energy, I can really see how they pull new audiences in at festivals! The ... guitarist? Bassist? I’m not sure which one the woman plays and I can’t tell the difference anyway, but she had some, uuuh, trouble with her outfit, in that she had a bit of tape on her chest and otherwise a net shirt that kept riding down to her stomach and some tech guy or the singer had to keep pulling back up for her. She also had HIGH heels which I don’t understand how she didn’t fall even once, running around in that, good for her. The singer once almost hit someone with a bottle or something and said, “Sorry if I hit you, my brother, my sister, whatever you are”, which 🌈🌈🌈 They’re, well... I could do with less sexual stuff but it’s their show. It was funny though how within 20 minutes, three of them were wearing almost nothing on top, except the guitarist (?) with his full long-sleeved cowboy outfit and cowboy hat.

We left a bit early and still watched the rest of Skillet 😊 had a snack on the floor while Korn was playing (they’re not bad actually), and then went into the first... like the areas in front of the stage are divided right? We went into the front section for Heilung. Because BMTH was playing right after them and we really wanted to be towards the front for them because well. Bring Me The Horizon 💖 which meant I had to stand there and suffer through 75 minutes of a god-awful boring weird band. They’re… you know, I already talked about them in the blind cat post, I’ll keep it short here: I thought they’d be creepy from seeing their music videos, especially with the red-blinking windmills in the background, but turns out, you can’t scare or creep me out if you just bore the hell out of me first. Their music is so slow it makes me want to scratch my skin off to feel something, they don’t interact with the audience at all, and you can’t understand their lyrics because they sing in I don’t know how many languages, half of them dead. On top of being boring as fuck, they’re also weird as hell, using instruments made of [redacted] and having very unpleasant to watch parts in their show that I don’t think they should be allowed to just act out like that at a festival that allows 8-year-olds in. Yes, the parents are responsible, but like I said – at a festival, you also just randomly walk around the stage area and see what happens even if you’re just passing by to a different area. Actually even forgetting about minors, I’m 24 and I didn’t like seeing that. Anyway, they’re boring, they’re weird and pretentious, don’t listen to them, @ Nova don’t book them again jesus christ.

ANYWAY. FRIDAY WAS BRING ME THE HORIZON DAY. Aka the absolute highlight. They came on stage, you could see how HAPPY they were to be there, they started out with “Can You Feel My Heart”, they’re happy, I’m happy, I feel nothing but joy FINALLY hearing them again after having been rescheduled three or so times. Remember how I said they’d cancelled bands because of the mud, and I said to a friend if I missed BMTH for any reason, I’d cry? Because I’d been waiting to see them since, well. Whenever in 2020 the concert would have been idk man. WELL. Turns out, the security at that festival is abysmal every year (we got checked twice in four days, but god forbid you take a plastic bottle or Tetrapak with you to the stages), and they didn’t close the front area when there were as many people there as allowed. I’m not gonna drag this out with details but long story short, it was okay during the first song but got too bad to stay when the second song + circle pits started (I have… opinions on them, should I elaborate?), we tried to leave but it was very cramped, we got separated, and next thing I know some guy (thank you <3) pulls me up from the floor and helps a security guy get me over the fence, who then drags me away to the paramedics, whom I tell I’m fine, just a bit dizzy, I just want to sit down on the side and watch from there, I can hear “Teardrops” fading into “Dear Diary” aka the song I’d been fucking annoying about being excited to hear, so naturally, they drag me away to the Red Cross tent. Where I just sit for a few minutes getting more and more upset over missing one of the few bands I really, really wanted to see. Anyway, we met two others from our group there too, a guy had twisted his ankle or something and his girlfriend, who – she is SO SWEET, she always asked how everyone was, she’s funny, she gave me Traubenzucker (seriously I still don’t know the English word) and hugged me and said we should just all go out and sit down on the side to watch the rest of BMTH, which we did, and actually suddenly a bunch of our group were there somehow? Anyway, I cried a little more watching them until I calmed down again, and the rest of the show was SO GOOD FUCK. They have such energyand excitement to be there and they go hard on stage, they really do, and the singer’s voice is so nice again now that he’s recovered, there is so much power behind and in his voice when he sings; anyone who says BMTH have become soft or worse or whatever since they have less screaming can fight me (the Florians?). I’m already looking forward to seeing them again in February (covid don’t even LOOK at February you fucking bitch) so much! They still played “Kingslayer” which is always great, “Drown” which is *chef’s kiss*, a few more songs (my concert memory is so bad, the most I can usually say is yeah it was great), and ended with “Throne”, which you know, *all the chef kisses in the world*. Seriously, if you like BMTH and ever get the chance to see them live – GO! They’re SO GOOD live, they’re so happy to be there, their energy takes over the audience immediately, you can scream along or just be there and vibe… They’re just such a great band, in general and to see live (ignoring my situation here, not the band’s fault but the security’s + drunk large guys who don’t look out for others), it’s so fun to be at their shows – oh, everyone who likes BMTH should get the chance to see them live! They’re so GOOD my god I’m excited for the new single tomorrow.

Have you listened to the 30 second thingy they put out already? I can’t get over the way he sings “forever”, someone who actually knows something about music explain to me what it is about that particular way he sings that makes it so 🥺✨💖🍀 Something about the way his voice… vibrates? So to say, and the slight rasp maybe? Not even mentioning the lyrics themselves! This week sure is a busy week for me with a new BMTH song tomorrow plus the BC album on Thursday and then everything else going on as well plus weaselling my way into the playlist with whatever BC song I’ll like the most by then at the drag party so I’ll see what you’ll come up with to bribe me.

Saturday was Electric Callboy day! It was finally warm and sunny and one guy convinced all of us to go to a band no one knew but said were fun to see live, and they were (Liedfett)! I wouldn’t listen to them otherwise but live there, they were fun, and somehow our group turned their band name into a Marco Polo thing. Also, since pretty much almost all of us were there, we asked a guy to take a picture of us and I’m 95% sure the guy was high of some sorts, but the photos turned out well. Also, another guy took a picture of all of us at the camping side once and I don’t know if he was a photographer or something, but he moved around, changed angles and took about 40 pictures, “so you’ll have a really good one!” My sister, friend, and me went to a Ferris wheel they had put up and from the top, you could see across the whole area, which was both huge but also looked smaller than I had expected. A few of us got some food and watched a bit of Jinjer, they’re okay but a bit boring maybe. But but but! After them, Electric Callboy played! Awww Ruby, I wish I had a picture of their faces pretty much anytime they showed them on the screens up-close, they looked so HAPPY, it was beautiful to see! They were so GOOD and so excited to be there and play their show and they always smiled and laughed so beautifully*, it was wonderful to see 🥺 And it was so fun too, they talked quite a bit, once before “Spaceman”, the smaller singer Nico, as Fine taught me, took Kevin to the front of the stage to teach the audience the lalala-ish sound, but the way he did that was to take Kevin by the hand and walk with him to the front of the stage hand in hand while saying something like “Komm mal mit mein Lieber, also der Typ, der kann Sachen machen mit seiner Zunge, ich schau ihm jeden Tag beim Üben zu, haltet eure Freundinnen und Freunde fest, da könnt ihr noch was lernen”.. oder so. Ngl for a second I was wondering if surely he wouldn’t just go ahead and kiss the guy, right? Oh, a few others of our group who didn’t or not really know them came too and they all loved them, some even said they were their highlight of the festival! Which is not at all surprising, I mean you’ve seen them too, right, you know how just… Their energy and fucking around and their easy-to-vibe-with music make it really easy I think for anyone to really, really enjoy their concerts, even if you don’t really know them. I know I already loved them in April when I forgot to listen to more of their songs than I knew at the time before their EC/BC Munich concert, and it was still so much fun. Their stage presence and happy-go-lucky attitude and how obviously happy they are to play their music just makes it really easy to have fun. *I asked Fine, Laura, and Lou if it would be very weird to send them a message or email or something telling them how nice it was to see how happy they were on stage and how beautiful their smiles and laughs were, and got an “you are so cute” in return, but I’m telling you – they were the cute ones with how utterly HAPPY they were 🥺 I feel like I haven’t said a lot besides “it was so nice to see how happy they were” in various shades and slightly to the left but it just cannot be said enough. It was beautiful to see. Maybe I’ll still write them a message or a letter or something. Oh I also saw parts of The Offspring, Bad Religion, Seiler und Speer, Dame, and Deichkind later that day but none really convinced me, so in the end I had an early night (like... midnight “early”).

Sunday was Billy Talent day! Also a few other bands before that, Kissin’ Dynamite are fun to watch and their singer seems like a little shit (I could see him and Joonas fucking around on stage together), a bit of Eluveitie (boring) and In Flames (better than I remembered). We went around a bit before Billy Talent for food and then one booth had just run out of all meats, mozzarella sticks, whatever else, idk they only had fries left so we went to get a pizza, had a discussion in line with some guys about what the pizza names mean, and found out some sinners put eggplant on pizza. My friend works at a zoo and told us they can only feed eggplants to one breed of their stags because not even the pigs eat those. Oooh, Billy Talent were also so fun to watch! I’m not sure why there were so many more people than the day before, maybe because they were the second-to-last band to play? Anyway, very fun! Almost all of our group were there again, I knew about half of the songs they played and it’s just so easy to sing along and see everyone else also sing and jump along and just enjoy being there! Except the couple right in front of us who just spent the whole show making out. Why. Move. The singer made fun of the shape of the stage, talked a bit about other stuff and joked around, they also just have a presence that makes you enjoy their concert regardless of how well you know them, they make it easy to have fun.

Ah, the last band was Five Finger Death Punch, which I didn’t really know before, maybe a song or two in passing, but they were really entertaining to watch. To me – apparently quite a few people thought the singer talked to much or sang weirdly or was drunk? I don’t know, I didn’t hear it, I just had fun with his jokes and I thought his voice was quite powerful too. I don’t really know them but I think they were a good final act to put on.

There’s not much to be said about the trip home, we got up at 5 or so to avoid the “everyone leaving” waves, had some more floor breakfast at the Vienna train station, chatted some more, and on the train everyone fell asleep one after the other, but not before witnessing me almost losing my jacket with no idea how it ended up there and despite looking at it several times before another traveller asked his friend whose jacket that was, and throwing my phone on the floor five seconds later. I had to get off earlier than the others at my uni town, which meant I got a hug goodbye from the only guy still motivated to stand up (feel you), almost forgot my chair, and then almost fell down the train stairs. I was tired okay. Also at like... 8pm or so, a few hours after I’d already showered and thrown everything into the dishwasher washing machine, we finally got the text from the one who had to take the DB to NRW that she’d arrived home, about two hours late, unsurprisingly. I know I complain about the ÖBB a lot and rightfully so I think, but how do you all just live like that regularly?

Remember how you said on discord you’d gotten withdrawal symptoms and I said it was five days and you said, "5 days in which anything could have happened you know"? Well. Nothing happened for me (where is my festival romance huh? BC concert first date idea? Huh, did someone say something?), however. I sit at the camping side with a bunch of others on Saturday noon, enjoying the sun finally being here, when I hear my sister + friend say my name, so I go over to see what they’re gossiping about me, only for my sister to tell me a guy from our group randomly (“randomly”, you should have been there, it was so fucking obvious there was something there, and that’s from me who never notices shit until it’s pointed out to me) asked her if she’s single the day before, she later asked him to do something after the festival and he said he would have asked her if she hadn’t asked first. They’ve had a few dates since then, I think it’s going well.

I haven’t talked about the sunsets yet! Oooh, so that festival is in the Pannonia fields, which basically means in the middle of nowhere on some farmers’ fields which are packed with windmills which at night blink red rhythmically and that looks so cool at night! Just a few dozen windmills in the background blinking red in sync. And the sunsets were beautiful! Just being by the stage, listening to or waiting for a great band to play, and left and right of the stage seeing the sunset over the fields 🥰 (don’t go there to see mountains, the area’s highest one is 302m)

Oooh!! Do you know how I hate phones at concerts a little? Like I get taking a few pictures or short videos, but I’m really annoyed by people recording whole songs or the whole concert wth is wrong with people because the people behind you can’t see goddamn it. I don’t want to be mean to or about teenage audiences, I don’t. It has to be said though, the difference in phone usage at concerts with a primarily teenage audience vs a primarily adult audience is staggering. This year, I’ve been to a Louis Tomlinson, 5SOS, and EC/BC concert and now the festival, and the difference in the audience is huge. At LT + 5SOS, there were so many people there who were constantly recording and watching so much of the concerts through their phones (you miss everything?!), whereas at EC/BC and the festival, people also took photos or recorded but like… very, very few people constantly did so, most took a picture or video of their favorite songs and then put their phones away again. And I have to say, the difference in the energy of the audience is very noticeable. People are just much more into it, just being there enjoying the show, singing and jumping along etc. etc., you know what I’m talking about. I once saw a video of a Halsey show where phones were banned, and I haven’t been able to stop thinking about that since then every time I see people constantly on their phones at concerts.

It was also so goddamn nice to be – well technically you’re reachable, most people have their phones with them, but in reality, I can just turn on flight mode and only take it off that when I need to find my friends (well and that one class) and ignore everything else for four days. Ideal existence tbh. No uni, no work, no being contacted if you don’t want to, no other adult responsibilities, just hanging out with fun people, sharing snacks, and enjoying good music together, half of the days even in the sunshine. Speaking of sun, why did no one tell me my hat looked stupid, I wore that for the whole weekend 😤 oh, also, I got a BMTH shirt! It’s so pretty and it’s white but somehow still too warm for a 30-degree day. Then again everything is, probably. But I had a clean shirt to wear for the journey home with my dust-covered skirt, that was nice.

I met a woman with really pretty multi-coloured hair at the showers. Once there was suddenly a bridal party at the camping spot asking for a beer for their flunky ball bridal party game and invited us to join and offered glitter tattoos. Oh, the guy who hurt his ankle, some of our group borrowed a… those small things you can put boxes or other stuff on you need to transport and wheel it around? One of those to have the guy stand on and wheel him back to our camping area. We found a really nice spot a bit farther away from one of the stages for when we wanted to see a band but just relax and vibe, maybe have some food there and sit down a bit, that was a good spot, I swear we weren’t just on our feet 12h every day in front of the stages. Just peppering in all the random things here that I’m remembering that didn’t fit elsewhere. We built the ladybug a little home in one of the glass holder nets in my camping chair. You said you missed me. Oh, we camped in the Green Area which is just like, less trash and noise, and by day two, there was a hole in the fence which was quite practical because it made the way to the stage area shorter. By day four, a whole fence thingy had been moved. Also, that area was supposed to be quieter but they had a party area or something that played music with heavy bass until 4am or so, which apparently bothered quite a few people about sleeping, but I found quite soothing actually. Oh, the fiancé/husband of the bride with her bridal party was also somewhere with his friends, I kept seeing them in their pink safety vests vs. the women in the orange ones.

So yeah, the security, paramedics, and non-alcoholic drink situation where not it (they had… Red Bull and water stations, but 95% of the drinks sold were alcoholic – please remember the minimum age is 8, also some people (hi) don’t like to drink, especially not at festivals), but the people I was there with, the bands, how obviously happy they all were to be there, the eating food on the floor with each other, the shared snacks at the camping area, the just hanging out and chatting at the camping area talking about the bands and whatever else really, the “guess what I just saw on my way to the toilets” stories shared, the random people around us, the “travelling together and having food and listening to music together” human experience – yeah, that was very much it 🥰🥰🥰💖✨🌈🦝🍀 Writing all that down took about 2 pages of my happy memories book, 100/10 would recommend grabbing your favorite snacks and a few friends, putting your phones into flight mode, and wandering off to a festival for a few days 🥰🥰🥰

[marvelfanfn2187a113]

Band-aids and Biker Gangs

Sam and Dean Winchester & little sister!reader

Requested by anonymous

Synopsis: the brothers’ baby (toddler) sister gets (minimally) hurt, and they come to the rescue

“De, I want more pie!”

“You already had two pieces.” Dean argued with his three-year old little sister as they left the diner with Sam and their side.

“I’m pretty sure you have only yourself to blame for this,” Sam chuckled. “Your addiction got her addicted.

“I’m not—“ Dean took his eyes off you to argue with Sam, and you took the opportunity to run ahead, going for the Impala. You’d almost reached it when a group of motorcyclists swerved into the parking lot. They cut around you, but one came so close that he had you stumbling backwards, a scream of terror leaving you as the roaring engine passed about a foot away from you. In your attempts to get away, your foot hit the curb and you went down hard.

All of this happened in mere seconds, and Sam and Dean could do nothing but watch. That is, until the motorcyclists had passed and you were lying on the street, crying.

Dean reached you first, his instincts kicking in just a second before Sam’s. As soon as he reached you, he was checking for injuries—your hands were cut up badly because of the small rocks covering the pavement, but other than that you seemed unhurt.

Dean’s heart twisted when he noticed you sobbing and trying to pick pebbles out of your palms.

“Hey, hey.” Dean grabbed your hands. “It’s ok sweetheart, let me do that.”

He heard you whimpering, and looked up to see your staring past him, your little body shaking. Dean turned around to see the biker gang watching the both of them.

“Take her,” Dean said to Sam without even looking at him as he stood and went straight for the biker that had almost run you over.

Sam lifted you into his arms, letting you wrap your arms around his neck as he rubbed your back.

“Shh, it’s gonna be ok,” he whisper-spoke to you, rocking you gently but making sure to keep you faced away from the men. He watched Dean carefully, prepared to step in only if he had to—he didn’t want to let you go for a second, not when you were shaking and crying in his arms.

Thankfully, Dean had it handled.

…

“Hey!” There was no question as to why Dean was approaching the biker—he was pissed, and everyone knew it.

“You got a problem with me?” The biker demanded.

“Yes, actually, I do. That’s a toddler over there, that you coulda killed!”

The man was unbothered.

“I had it handled.”

“Well, do you wanna know what I think?” Dean was nose to nose with the man, all but shaking with anger. “I think you’re gonna get on that oversized tricycle, and you’re gonna clear out.”

A few of the other bikers stepped forwards, but the man held them back with an “I’ve got him.”

“Or what?” The man spat. Dean scoffed, a smirk twitching on his lips a split second before he knocked the man flat on his back. Before the man’s buddies could even react, Dean had his gun out and aimed at the man on the ground.

“What about now?” Dean growled. The man got up slowly, brushing himself off and staring warily at Dean’s weapon.

“We were just leaving anyway,” he huffed, and within a minute him and his friends were gone, making sure to give you and Sam a wide berth.

“Hey.” Dean’s rage was gone in a moment, replaced by soft eyes and gentle touches as he pulled you into his arms. Sam released you without protest. “How are we doing, huh baby?” Dean asked gently.

“‘M ok,” you sniffled, resting your head against Dean’s shoulder and all but burying your face against his neck. He’d never felt you hold him as tightly as you were now, and he felt compelled to tighten his arms around you too, making sure you felt secure.

“Let’s get you back to the motel and we can take a look at those hands, ok?” He suggested.

“It hurts,” you whimpered, each word coming out between shuddering breaths as you tried to speak through your tears. But you made no other protest as Dean carried you to the Impala. However, when he tried to bundle you into your car seat, you started to cry harder, refusing to release your clad-iron grip around his neck.

“Hey, it’s ok,” Sam soothed as he reached out and pried you from Dean’s arms. “I’ve got you, you can sit with me.”

Dean went over to his side as Sam sat in the passenger seat, securing you in his lap. They wouldn’t normally do this, as it wasn’t the safest way to travel, but the motel was only minutes away, and neither brother was able to resist you when you were upset.

You calmed down during the drive to the motel, the gentle purr of baby lulling you as the pain in your hands faded to a dull ache.

Sam carried you into the motel room, and when the brothers entered Dean went straight for the first aid kit. When he turned to you and Sam, he grinned when he saw Sam already distracting you, making silly faces while you giggled and kicked your feet. You were so happy that you hardly noticed Dean gently grabbing onto your wrist. That is, until he rubbed disinfectant on your palm. You were mid-giggle when it turned into a whine, and you struggled to pull your hand from Dean’s.

“Stop it!” You started to cry again when Dean wouldn’t let go of your hand.

“Hey, hey…” Sam brushed a few of your tears away. “De’s just fixing up your hand, you’re ok.”

“It hurts!” You yelled at him. He wasn’t fazed by your anger, knowing you were just hurting, and he spent the next few minutes calmly comforting you as Dean finished up with your hands.

“Ok.” Dean finished off each bandage with a gentle kiss to your hands. “You’re all done.”

You held your arms up and let Dean pick you up, wrapping your arms around his neck and burrowing against his shoulder.

“Thanks, De,” you mumbled. He could still hear you sniffling.

“You bet,” he said softly. “You were really good, you know.”

“Yeah,” Sam chimed in. “Good enough, I think you deserve some ice cream.”

“Ice cream!” Your head popped up, and both boys chuckled.

“C’mon, baby,” Dean grinned. “My treat.”

Taglist:

@nyotamalfoy @mrvlxgrl @chocorade @aestheticdaisies @inlovewhithafairytale @that-wannabe-vangoghgurl

[sink-me-in-your-ocean]

𝔊𝔥𝔬𝔲𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔥 ℌ𝔢𝔞𝔡𝔠𝔞𝔫𝔬𝔫𝔰

How would the Ghouls (AND Copia) react to seeing you surprise them with lingerie?

Prompt by the miraculous @endhisbloodlineinmyesophagus

NSFW/Suggestive below the cut.

Copia:

Blushes profusely

This man is so flustered he can barely form a word, let alone speak a sentence

That doesn’t stop him from acting, though

He puts his greedy gloved hands on your body the second his mind can catch up to what’s happening

He’s torn between a state of disbelief and a state of unholy fuck I need to put my hands on this woman right now or I’ll die

“You are ravishing, cara mia.”

“Grazie mille, Papa.”

“But those straps, are they digging into your skin? I’d be happy to take you out of them.” 

“It’s actually surprisingly comfortable.”

“Good, I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t dying to have you while you wear that.”

-

Swiss:

Grins at you like a madman when you reveal yourself to him

He tries to hide it but he’s so into it

The fact that you put in all this effort to fasten straps, tie ribbons, and put yourself on such a perfect display has him weak

He has an intense urge to fall to the floor and worship at your feet, as he feels unworthy of such a goddess

“All of this effort, for me? I mean, I can’t say I’m surprised you’d do something like this.”

“Well, it’s not just for me.”

“Hm?”

You produce a long silk ribbon that matches your lingerie, “This is for you. You can unwrap me and then I get to tie you up.”

He groans, “You’re fucking perfect.”

-

Phantom:

Can’t. Think. Heart. Having. Palpitations.

His dark eyes go so wide as he sees you all dressed up

His jaw is on the floor too

He runs a slightly trembling hand through his thick locks and unashamedly checks you out (not trembling out of nervousness, from sheer excitement)

“Oh, fuck me.”

“That’s the idea.”

“Get over here you little minx, you’re mine, you hear me?” 

“Are you going to undress me?”

“You know I don’t have the patience; I’m fucking you in that now.”

-

Dewdrop/Sodo:

His first thought is to mark you; he is overcome with the need to bite you and suck on your exposed skin immediately

Practically tears out of his own clothes at the sight of you presenting yourself for him

He needs you carnally

He’s fucking feral for you

“You wanted my attention, huh?”

“Yes.”

“Well I’ll give you points for all of this. But I’ll have to punish you too.”

“For what?”

“For walking around wearing this, anyone could have seen you. No, no, I’m not going to be finished with you until you can’t walk, siren.”

-

Rain:

Has to bite the inside of his cheek to keep from blurting out the first obscene thing that pops in his brain

You got him, you got him good

He doesn’t care for surprises but this one is a winner

His eyes can’t drink you in fast enough, flicking his gaze over your breasts, your thighs, and your ass as you turn for him

“Wow.”

“That’s it?”

“I can’t say the other things I’m thinking, I’m pretty sure I’d get arrested.”

“I’ll take ‘wow’ then.”

“Oh you’ll be taking a lot more than that.”

-

Mountain:

Literally astonished when you show him what you’re wearing 

Utterly hypnotized by the curves of your body done up by lace

Hands start twitching like a crazed addict

He needs to touch you

“Get. Over. Here.”

“Right now?”

“Right fucking now. Either that or I come over there and pin you against that wall.”

“Hmmm…”

“The wall it is.”

-

Cirrus:

Goes from zero to one hundred in a snap

Can’t decide where she wants to look, placing you in front of a floor length mirror for her own pleasure

She is happy to stand back and watch you pose for her

Eventually she gets antsy, fingers tingling with need to touch you

“Need attention, do we?”

“I have some for you too, love.”

“You do?”

“Just for you.” You hand her a black tissue-wrapped package.

“Matching sets? What are we, in a band?”

-

Cumulus:

Purses her lips in satisfaction

Tries to keep herself from smiling, she’s trained you well

Extra points for you sitting on the floor so submissively

Something inside her calls to put her mouth on you, mark you all over with her dark lipstick

“Stand and me a twirl.”

You oblige her.

“What a good girl. Shall I give you a treat?”

“Yes, please.”

She opens the top drawer of the dresser and starts laying out the treats she plans on using on you. You’ve been good indeed.

-

Aurora/Sunshine:

Squeals in delight upon seeing you

You’d think it was her birthday the way she reacted to you

That doesn’t stop a mischievous grin from spreading on her face though

She wants to see you put on other things she’s had tucked away for special occasions 

“This one is next!”

“Haven't you found your favorite yet?”

“Nope.”

“No?”

“My favorite is you wearing nothing at all, gorgeous, I just wanted to see how many different pairs I could get you to put on before you beg me to take them off you.”

-

[sunflowervolvimp3]

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)

[heliotropehotch]

Silver - a.h. x fem!reader

Request by @moonstuffsteve :If you’re taking requests, I’d love Hotch smut with a wedding ring kink where the cold metal gets you more worked up (maybe ft choking bc of the ring??) pls and thanks so much!!!!!!!!

a/n: AHHHH its my first smut for Aaron! (and first smut i've actually finished in years!) Al, i love you. Thank you for this. If you have any suggestions on how I can improve my writing please let me know! I haven't written smut in a long time so I know this might be rocky. <3

CW: smut, under 18 DNI, 18+, jealously, unwanted ass grabbing, wanted ass grabbing, choking, wedding ring kink?????, p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), rough sex, marriage kink??, dom/sub themes, possessiveness, fingering

Masterlist

author: abby<3

word count: 1919

have fun!

She hated cops. Entitled, jealous, and, for the most part, disgusting men, who thought well enough should be left alone. Meaning that, while help had been offered and given, it wasn’t wanted. What was wanted, however, seemed to deviate way too far off the course of the case, of the literal murders that were happening.

“Officer Walker,” Y/N’s teeth gritted out as sweetly as she could, as the man placed an unwelcome palm on the small of her back. “Is there something I can help you with?”

“Well, sugar,” he chuckled deeply. “I was hoping you wanted to get out of here.”

“Out of here?” She pretended not to notice Agent Hotchner watching the interaction, slowing walking up behind him. “What do you mean, Officer?”

“I mean,” his hand swooped down, resting gently on her ass. Y/N’s eyes shot wide, mouth opening slightly with appall. “We should get out of here so we can have a little fun.”

“Excuse me-”

“Officer Walker,” Aaron Hotchner’s voice cut through the air of the precinct. “I suggest you take your hand off of my agent, and my wife.”

Walker’s hand shot off her body, smacking into his own side. “Your wife? Sir, I didn’t kn-”

“We have a case, Officer. There are people out there getting murdered. Get back to work. Agent, you’re needed in the conference room, please.”

“Yes sir,” Y/N said with a straight face, but she knew her husband could read the smugness on her face.

“In the future, Officer Walker,” she called out before following Aaron. “At least check a woman’s hand before you make unwanted passes at them.”

Y/N sauntered almost cheerfully behind her husband stalking into the closed conference room. She could hear the gears turning forcefully in his head, and could clearly see his hand clenching and relaxing at his side. Entering the conference room, tension seeping into the air, confining itself in the room as Aaron forcefully shut the door behind them.

“Aaron-”

“I know, I know,” he sighed, fingers smoothing out his eyebrows. “I was fine until his moved his fucking hand-”

She reached out to grab his arms, trailing down to intertwine their fingers together. “Honey,” she smiled sweetly. “I know, okay. I appreciate it, okay. But I had it handled too.”

“I should have him fired-”

“But you won’t,” she laughed softly. “If you fired every man who made a pass at me, we wouldn’t ever work with cops again.”

He grumbled indignantly, scrunching his eyes together in irritation. Y/N slipped her hands up his chest, sliding into their natural place at his jaw. Her lips pressed to his, seeping tension seeping out of him with every passing second. “Aaron,” she hummed against his lips, before pulling away. She smiled as his chased after. “I married you, remember? You don’t ever have to worry about anyone else. Like ever?”

He chuckled, slipping his hands into the pockets of her pants. “I just don’t like sharing what’s mine.”

“I’m only yours.” She smiled at him, taking a step back. “Now can we get back to work? I wanna go home with you as soon as possible.”

--

The case was nowhere near close to being solved, but tensions between all members of the BAU were running high. Derek, the ever hot head he was, had almost gotten into a physical fight with the Captain of the precinct, while Spencer had remained silent after a particularly loud conversation with one of the fellow officers.

“These cops just won’t let us do our jobs, Hotch,” Emily had groaned in the hotel elevator with Y/N and Aaron. “I’m two derogatory comments away from breaking Walker’s nose.”

Y/N snorted, eying her husband’s now tense back in front of her. “He’s a real piece of work huh?”

“I’ll be too glad when we get out of here. Why can’t we work with female cops for a change?”

It was Hotch’s turn to snort. “You would end up being the one that they complained about. You’re just as bad as Morgan.”

Emily gave an artificial gasp. “Am not.”

The elevator doors opened, and Y/N followed her husband out and down the hall to the left. “Night Em!”

Out of sight of the rest of their team, she jogged forward to grab his hand, giving a small kiss to his knuckles. A comfortable silence had settled between the heavy setted footsteps of the married couple. Y/N rocked on her heels as her husband fumbled with the key card to their shared room. She rolled her neck, letting the tension fizzle out in separated pops of her bones. She barely registered the click of the door, or the wrap of fingers around her wrist. She did however, notice the cool, fake wood of the hotel door being pressed against her back. “Aaron?”

“You’re mine,” he murmured, pressing his lips in the angle of her neck. She chuckled, winding her fingers in his hair.

“I thought we already clarified that, baby.”

He hummed a chuckle, his tongue lapping up whatever remnants of perfume traced his neck. “And I intend to make that painfully obvious to everyone in that precinct.”

His lips wrapped around the muscles at the junction of her neck, drawing out a moan out of her with passing second that the air left his mouth. Y/N hummed a laugh, lifting her hips to grind against his. “Seriously, a hickey?”

His hand snaked up her waist to rest under her chin, squeezing slightly. She could feel the metal of his wedding band warm to the temperature of her skin. “I’ve got a point to prove, sweetheart.”

His fingers left her throat and reached down to pull the backs of her thighs to wrap around his waist, grunting slightly at the movement. She worked on unbuttoning her shirt, the best she could. “Aar-” their bodies fell to the bed, his legs slotted between hers. Y/N squeezed his left hand that had found its way into hers. “You’ve got me wrapped around your finger, remember?”

“Oh I remember, darling,” his mouth moved to her breasts, taking a nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before letting it free. “I think you’re the one who needs a reminder.”

Aaron’s hands pushed up her skirt, adjusting it to pool at her hips. His calloused hands traced the edge of her underwear, sliding softly under the band. His mouth, trailing back up to her neck smirked as Y/N’s hips squirmed under his delicate touch. “Be patient, love.”

His attached his mouth to hers as his fingers slowly, finally began circling her clit. The metal of his ring brushing deliciously against the skin above. His teeth tugged her bottom lips, a small whine escaping her. He watched her blissed out expression morph into one of need, eyes scrunched with tension. His fingers dipped lower, circling her entrance before dipping two fingers in slowly.

“Aaron,” she gasped out, clenching around the fingers inside of her. “Aaron, please.”

“Shh, sweetheart,” he smiled into her neck, pressing his lips to her skin. “I’m gonna take good care of my wife, don’t you worry.”

His thumb, that had been rolling lazy circles against her clit, becomes more firm, with more intention. Y/N could feel the cold of her husband’s silver band pressing into her pussy as he pressed a third finger into her. The stretch of his hand, the way he stroked her walls with his fingers, and the words dripping from his lips were enough to put her body on edge.

“Oh you’re so tight, baby,” he chuckled darkly, breath blowing sweetly against her inner thighs. “Fuck, you’re wet. Is this all for me?”

Her fingers wrapped lazily between his black locks, tugging the strands. “Only you.”

“Of course, honey,” he cooed. “Look at you dripping all over my ring, I bet you’re gonna come soon, yeah?”

“Please,” Y/N whined loudly. “Please, Aaron, I can’t hold it anymore.”

“Come for me, baby, get nice and ready for my cock.” She let out a yelp, her back arching from the mattress as her husband continued to lazily stroke her cunt.

“That’s my girl,” he hummed, bringing his fingers up to his mouth for a taste, before pausing and redirecting his fingers to her mouth. Her eyes stayed on him and she hummed around his fingers, tongue lapping at her own juices around his wedding ring.

“Fuck, sweetheart,” he groaned, tugging off his own shirt, and ridding his pants and underwear. Y/N’s panties now rested at her knees, twisting over on itself, until she lazily ridded the rest of her garments.

Aaron now positioned her on her knees, head resting on her forearms as her ass ground into his pelvis. “Please, baby, wanna feel you,” her muffled voice called out.

He sucked his teeth with mock annoyance, lightly smacking one of her cheeks with his left hand. “And what did I say about being patient?” he chided, before lining his dick up and thrusting in.

Her toes curled at the sudden, but welcome intrusion. A groan left her throat as he began pounding into her pussy at a rough pace. Thrust for thrust, the room echoes with grunts and moans from both Y/N and her husband. She could almost feel his smug grin with every whine that fell through her lips.

“Fuck, Y/N look at you taking my cock so well. I bet you just love how I fill you up.” Her only responses were loud moans that flowed through his own voice as she clenched around him.

The metal of his wedding ring now almost burned against her sweating skin as he wrapped his hand around her throat once more, pulling her body to be flush against him as he continued to thrust into her at a bruising pace.

“Who’s making you feel this good, huh?” She stayed wordless, only echoing in whines and moans. He squeezed her neck a little tighter, the imprint of the ring creating a delicious friction. “Answer me.”

“You!” her voice bursted out. “You, Aaron, only you.”

“That’s right, sweetheart, your husband. I married you, I put that ring on your finger-” he groaned, attaching his lips to the juncture of her neck before speaking again. “Fuck, are you gonna come for me soon?”

“Yes!” she cried, “Please, please.”

“Go ahead, and come for me like a good girl,” he panted, using his other hand to rub against her clit, squeezing his fingers again on her throat before speaking right into her ear. “Come on your husband’s cock.”

She yelled with her release, back arching to meet Aaron’s chest. He let out a few more strong thrusts before he found his own release and coated her walls with a groan. His forehead landed on her shoulder, her fingers lazily combing through his hair.

Eventually, he pulled himself out to clean themselves up and crawl into bed. She had rested on his side, but yelped when he pulled her to lay on his chest. She smiled softly, fingers tracing imaginary shapes along his pecs, then started chuckling softly.

He cracked a smile reserved only for her. “What are you up to?”

Her giggles quieted and she stopped her movements. “Oh, I was just thinking. I should make you jealous more often.”

He groaned, tugging her close to him, covering her ringed hand with his own. “Don’t you dare.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead as she chuckled sweetly. “You’re mine.”

[butterflyyeo]

jealous

pairing — han jisung x reader

genre — angst (?)

tw — slightly suggestive (?)

wc — 3035

a/n — yall idk wtf this is im trying my best to get better at writing angsty (???) stuff so im really sorry if this is absolute trash T^T. feedback is appreciated !!

———————————

you hadn't seen your brother, chan, for a long time, six months to be exact and of course you missed him dearly. when he called to tell you that he was coming home for a while you nearly cried of joy, however, the happiness faded when he mentioned that he'd be bringing his band mates, that meant changbin... and han jisung.

it wasn't exactly a secret that you didn't get along with jisung, and you never knew why. he always just irked you a bit, and on purpose too. it was constant bickering between the two of you, fortunately, chan and changbin had learnt to tolerate it. speaking of changbin, you actually quite liked him and he was rather fond of you too. chan knew this, in fact, chan saw all the underlying tension between you and the rest of 3racha. he was thankful that he was your brother, but he didn't have to intervene, he was fully aware that you could handle these things on your own. unless of course you asked for help, and in that case, he would go to war for you.

a sturdy knock hit the door a few times and you ran to the door, unlocking it.

"channie!!" you leaped onto him and hugged him tightly. he dropped his bags down to the floor just so he could hug you back. "i've missed you so much!" you said as you hopped down and picked up both of his bags.

he grinned, "i've missed you too, y/n."

your smile dropped almost instantly as you saw jisung leaning against the doorway, a smirk across his face that just made you want to slap him. faking a smile, you greeted changbin, "hey changbin! good to see you." he gave you a sincere nod and smile before picking up his suitcase. "now chan, shall i put these in the guest room?" you asked, chan was already going through the fridge, looking for food.

"mm." he mumbled. you took it as a yes and heaved his bags to the guest room, dumping them beside the bed. as you turned around to help changbin with his luggage, someone blocked your way.

"you didn't say hello to me?" jisung questioned, though, it sounded more like a statement.

huffing, you responded, "why would i?"

"because you love me," he said as he leaned in close. "and you missed me."

"you must be confused." you shrugged and pushed past him. that was too close for comfort. you thought as you walked out and picked up changbin's last bag.

"hey y/n," chan began, "what's for dinner?"

you sighed, "i'm gonna have to go shopping chan, i don't have enough food for all of you." you went to put your shoes on and a jacket too, since it was getting late and more chilly outside. "who wants to chauffeur me to the grocery store?" you joked.

"anything for you, my love." jisung said teasingly as he held his hand out to you.

"uh, i'd rather not." you swatted his hand away. "c'mon changbin, let's go!" you said while dragging changbin up from the sofa. he groaned, but honestly he didn't mind so much. he was just being a big baby.

the car trip was short and quiet, mainly because changbin was tired from all the travelling they had done to get to your house. plus, their schedule has been so full lately, they were lucky to have this time off.

wandering through isles, you began picking up ingredients and placing them intro a trolley.

"you really missed us?" changbin began, "me and chan of course..." he trailed off but a playful smile tugged at his lips.

"of course i am! jisung on the other hand..." you rolled your eyes, pushing the trolley along.

he chucked, "you really still hate each other? after all these years?"

you huffed, a little too obnoxiously, "yes. i do still hate him. and i'm sure he despises me too. i don't even know what it is... it's just... the way he treats me. he acts like he deserves my friendship, which he doesn't. it's something you earn."

"remind me to never piss you off." changbin laughed as he put a bag of chips in the trolley.

once you had everything you needed you put it through the register, changbin insisted he paid, since you were letting the three of them live with you.

shortly after you arrived home, you began cooking. while he wasn't the best, changbin offered to help as best he could. you actually thought it was really sweet. he passed you utensils, condiments and he even set the table.

meanwhile, chan was fast asleep in the guest room and jisung was showering in the provided ensuite. you turned to changbin and high fived him, "we're all done! i should wake up chan. you can start eating if you want." proud of his efforts, changbin sat down and began to eat.

gently pressing the door open to the guest room, you whispered, "chan? dinner is ready." you walked over to him and was about to softly shake him when jisung walked out of the bathroom, only a towel around his waist. his tousled wet hair dripped little drops of water down his chest and it was rather overwhelming to see him so exposed.

contrary to your thoughts, he couldn't care less, he enjoyed watching the way you panicked and blushed heavily. if this is what it takes. he thought.

"oh! um, jisung. i'm so sorry, i was just coming to tell chan that dinner is ready, i should've knocked or-" you blurted out in a quiet voice, weary of chan waking up.

jisung let out a low chuckle, "it's fine, y/n. i'll wake him up once i've dressed."

"thanks," you said as you went to leave, "wait... no snarky comment?" you puzzled.

he said nothing, just winked at you as you closed the door.

you joined changbin at the dinner table, sitting across from him. "how's the food?" you asked as you took a bite for yourself.

"y/n it's amazing! you're seriously a great cook. man, i wish i was this good." he said as he took a small bite of the spaghetti you had prepared.

at that moment, chan dawdled out the door and jisung closely behind. they joined you at the table and also began eating.

"don't worry about it binnie, i can teach you to cook, years of living on my own without chan seems to have payed off a bit." you joked.

"binnie?" jisung questioned the nickname you had given to changbin, whilst changbin sat there furiously blushing. he tried to hide it by lowering his head but that honestly seemed it give it away more.

"sounds cute." you shrugged, not thinking much of it.

chan cleared his throat, "okay so here's the plan for tomorrow," he began, taking another bite of spaghetti, "changbin and i have to go talk to JYP about an upcoming show we are doing, so we could be gone all day with that. there's lots to plan."

"wait a second, why am i not going? i'm apart of 3racha too." jisung stated.

changbin replied, "did you get the email from him?"

jisung shook his head, "well, no but-"

"then you're not coming." changbin grinned cheekily, knowing this upset jisung.

when everyone had finished with their meal, changbin stood up and collected all the dirty dishes, only to begin washing them in the sink. you quickly tried to stop him, "oh, changbin! don't worry i can do that." you said as you tried to take over, but he refused.

"no. you won't. dinner was great! you've done enough for today, if we are gonna be living here for the next few weeks then i might as well be of some use." he smiled at you before nodding to the tv, signalling for you to relax.

tired as ever, chan come over and kissed your head goodnight before going back to sleep. by now it was nearly 10pm, you had a late dinner but that was because they arrived later than expected.

you sat down on the sofa and began browsing movies. you decided to watch your favourite, even though you've seen it a million times. once he was finished with the dishes, changbin joined you on the sofa to watch the movie, you quickly filled him in on all the little details of the plot.

jisung was still sitting at the dinner table, scrolling through his phone, he was contemplating coming to join the two of you in watching the movie, but decided against it when he saw changbin put his arm around you. rolling his eyes and scoffing a little too loud, jisung stood up and went to the guest room he was sharing with chan. he tried his best not to slam the door but somehow that didn't happen.

"huh, wonder what's up with him?" changbin asked, looking at the door wide eyed. "i'll go check, sorry, i'll be back in a sec." he followed jisung into the guest room, you heard changbin quietly ask if he was okay.

what started as a whispered discussion soon became a hushed argument, you were worried that soon they would start yelling at each other. luckily chan was a deep sleeper, he also slept with earphones in, so you were pretty sure he wouldn't hear any of it.

the minutes passed and their quarreling continued, you debated going in there to try and make some peace but you decided against it, this seemed to be something personal between the two of them. instead, you switched off the tv and the lights, and went got ready for bed. as you were about to close your eyes you heard the jingle of keys and the sound of the door opening and closing. whoever it was, you knew they could take care of themselves, they were both adults and probably just needed some space.

when you woke up, it was around 7am. you quickly threw a hoodie on over your shirt, feeling a bit cold and walked into the living space to see changbin, sleeping softly on the sofa. it only just occurred to you that there wasn't enough beds for all of you in your current living situation.

you gently peeked into chan's room to see him sprawled out, sleeping a deep sleep. you smiled to yourself, knowing that he got all the sleep he deserved. the empty bed in the room didn't go unnoticed however.

it was jisung who left last night. and he didn't seem to be back yet.

slightly worried, you decided to cook up some bacon and eggs for when the boys woke up.

"morning y/n." you turned around to see changbin leaning against the kitchen counter.

you smiled, "morning! sorry if i woke you up, i'm just making some breakfast, you've probably got time to shower if you want to before you eat."

"serious? man, what did we do to deserve you?" changbin said looking at you sincerely.

you laughed lightly, "nothing, now go! and please wake chan up when you get out."

he just chuckled as he walked away and closed the guest room door behind him. you wondered if you should make enough breakfast for jisung, would he be back soon? if he wasn't, he could just re-heat it, you thought.

the last few pieces of bacon finished cooking so you begin buttering the toast, you made a lot knowing that chan has a big appetite and there was a good chance they wouldn't have time to eat today. your train of thought was interrupted once again by changbin.

"anything i can do to help?" he asked, he was dressed quite smartly, but you understood as he was going to console with JYP himself.

"nope! i'm just about done, plus, you wouldn't want to dirty your clothes," you said as you began serving breakfast.

"ah okay, i woke chan up, he wanted to have a shower so he shouldn't be too much longer." he said, "can i?" he asked, pointing to one of the cups of steaming hot coffee you set on the counter.

"of course!" you said. a question burned in the back of your mind and you wondered if you should ask or not. "uh, changbin..." you began.

changbin knew exactly what you were about to say, "he's okay, y/n. he just wanted some space." his eyes stared at the wall blankly. there was more to this than needing space.

"so.. why was he upset then? you guys had a pretty heated argument.."

changbin's eyes met yours, "i'm sorry you had to hear that." he took a sip of coffee, "we just had a bit of a disagreement, it happens all the time... you see, the thing is-"

"good morning to my favourite people!" chan said as he waltzed out of the guest room, also looking rather sharp.

you and changbin smiled at his enthusiasm, "morning!" the two of you chimed back.

"breakfast made? hot coffee? you seriously are the best sister in the world! it's like we're staying at a five star hotel." chan said picking up a mug of coffee.

you laughed, "i'm your only sister."

he shrugged, "still the best," he took a sip and hummed, looking around the room, "hey, where's jisung?"

"i don't know. i heard him leave last night." you said, placing two plates of food at the dinner table.

chan sent a red hot glare at changbin, knowing exactly why jisung would've stormed out. changbin looked away sheepishly.

"okay, well, breakfast is ready! eat up, you guys have a busy day." you said sitting down in front of a plate.

chan and changbin began discussing things for later with JYP, while you just sat their mindlessly eating your breakfast. you still couldn't help but wonder where jisung had went, and why he wasn't back yet.

you had completely zoned out and was just picking at the scraps of your plate when chan spoke, "well that was seriously great y/n! what a good way to start the day."

you smiled at your brother, "ah, it's the least i can do, maybe you could ask JYP if you can dedicate a song to me in return."

the three of you laughed and you began to clear up the plates while the boys finished getting ready. shortly after, they said their goodbyes and closed the front door behind them. although the door muffled his voice, you heard chan say to changbin, "you seriously fought over that again?"

you sighed to yourself, what were you going to do all day? you decided to finish cleaning up and have a shower.

you let the water run until it was warm before stepping in, you had to remember to be mindful because you often got carried away and distracted in the shower and lost track of time.

which is, exactly what happened, before you knew it you had been half an hour. shit, you thought. as you wrapped a towel around your body, you remembered jisung and how you saw a little too much of him after he showered. you blushed furiously just remembering it. that's when you realised that your feelings for changbin were just a deflection of the feelings you have for jisung. you're ridiculous, you thought. he hates you, despises you, enjoys making fun of you. you quickly ruled out the possibility of him ever returning the feeling and finished dressing.

you spent the day multitasking some of your studies while watching movie after movie, trying to be somewhat productive. your stomach suddenly growled and you checked the time, "must be time for lun-" you said aloud, "oh, it's 5pm." you laughed at your silly sense of time and how you had got carried away all day. but you soon frowned, 5pm and jisung still wasn't back?

since the boys weren't home you made yourself a light meal and sat at the dinner table alone, listening to some background music. it was actually quite relaxing. the evening golden sun shone through the window as you finished eating. you quickly began washing up your plate, when you heard the door creak open.

"oh, chan you're home! i just finished eating, but i can make something for you and changbin just give me a min-" but when you turned around to greet them, it wasn't chan or changbin. it was jisung. "jisung."

"are you gonna admit that you missed me this time? or do i have to leave for longer?" he smirked but you just sighed in relief. you hated to confess that you worried you wouldn't hear his stupid comments for a long while.

you spoke quietly, "of course i missed you. i was worried sick."

"oh? worried now?" he toyed.

"yes, worried! i heard you arguing with changbin and then you left!" you exclaimed.

his face turned away at the mention of changbin's name, "well sometimes changbin and i argue, it's normal."

you scoffed, "that's what he said."

"he told you?" jisung asked.

"no, he didn't tell me what you fought about, but it would seem that it isn't the first time because i heard chan scolding him after they left this morning." you admitted.

"they're not back?"

you shook your head, "nope," jisung looked away, "look, i just had dinner but is there anything you want?"

"yeah." he began.

"what would you like?" you asked.

"you." jisung said bluntly, catching you off guard. "and changbin wants you too."

it all made sense now. "oh, i, i see.." you said, quite taken aback. "jisung, it could ruin everything, we'd be playing with fire."

"i don't care, y/n." he said taking a few steps closer.

"but, chan is my brother." you said.

"he's my best friend." jisung countered, coming closer again.

"what about changbin?" you asked.

"he's also my best friend." at this point, jisung was standing face to face with you.

"hang on a second," you took a step back, hitting the counter, "i don't owe you anything." you whispered, pressing a finger to his lips.

he smirked, "but i owe you everything."

[jaeminlore]

Landslide | Mark Lee

summary: time makes you bolder. even children get older, and i’m getting older too.

words: 7.1k+

category: teacher!mark, single parent!reader, fem!presenting!reader, graham is the sweetest kid, mark is that teacher that lets kids pick earthworms during recess, friends to lovers, mark’s apartment is flooded so now he has to live in domestic bliss with his secret crush oh nooooo

warnings: talk of absent fathers

author note: it’s my birthday tomorrow so i wanted to give u all a present for supporting me for so long!! here’s to you <3 (cross-posted on /honklore)

Mark helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Mark advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Mark grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Mark.

Mark ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Lee forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Mark giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Mark to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Mark actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Mark did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Mark puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Mark checks his text messages.

There’s one from Taeyong: “I’ve already got Haechan on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Mark forgot that Haechan lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Mark’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Mark didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Mark has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Mark right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Mark doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Mark gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Mark is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Mark’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Mark gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Mark pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Mark! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Mark is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Lee! It’s rude to call him Mark!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Mark reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Mark.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Mark and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Mark studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Mark acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Mark clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Mark. I’ll text you.”

Mark spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

-

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Mark is his teacher.

Mark’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Mark is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Mark glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Mark.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Mark to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Lee?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Mark gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Mark.

“How have you been?”

Mark sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Mark pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Mark. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Mark bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

-

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Lee is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Lee? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Mark decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Lee’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are heard before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, and you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Mark’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Mark is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Mark’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Mark teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Mark mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Mark gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Mark himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Mark has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Lee cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Mark around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Mark giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Mark blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Mark knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

-

Mark thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Mark gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Mark quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Mark tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Lee! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Mark’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Mark gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Mark feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be. Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Mark reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Mark has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Lee?”

Mark grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Mark’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Mark feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Mark grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Mark, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Mark leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Mark thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Mark takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Mark asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Mark watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Mark, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Mark reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Mark wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

-

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Lee let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Mark trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Mark scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Mark places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Mark’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Mark says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Mark Lee would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Mark grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

-

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Mark up by jumping on his chest.

Mark sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Mark, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Mark rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Mark and Graham enter.

Mark likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Mark, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Mark rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Mark insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

-

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Mark giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Mark reminds you.

“But Mikey is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Mark’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Mark scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Mark is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Mark laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Mark blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Mark is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Mark,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Mark opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

-

Haechan comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Mark, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still high despite its blunt sarcasm. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Haechan, Mark’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Lee’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Haechan looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Haechan to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Taeyong’s, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Mikey, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re rambling and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Johnny about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Mark tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Mark didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Haechan scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Mark’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Haechan grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Mark, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Haechan in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Haechan’s voice cracks

You shoot Haechan a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Johnny’s.” Mark says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Haechan says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Mark laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Mark is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in the shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

-

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Mark is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Haechan’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Mark didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Mark was alone in a dorm with Taeyong, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Mark even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Lee?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Mark jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Mark realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Mark holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Mark says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Mark’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

-

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Mark and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Mark’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Mark scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Mark smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, copper brown under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Mark’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

-

“Mark Lee!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Mark has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Mark’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Mark laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Mark.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Mark.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Haechan told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Mark pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Mark stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

-

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Mark. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Mark again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Mark in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say.

Mark confesses, “I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Mark is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Mark bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Mark’s voice is a low rumble. Copper eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Mark.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in onyx black disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[honklore]

landslide | karl jacobs

(kindergarten teacher!karl, single mom!reader, oh no karl’s apartment gets flooded so he has to stay at his best friend from high school’s house who also happens to be the mother of his favorite student, karl just being soft and sweet and a great friend, um talk about the baby daddy being a loser essentially, the beast team is there playing the role of karl’s friends from school, graham is the sweetest child, slight angst, fluff, friends to lovers, SOFT KARL, warmth, comfort, romance coded but very light)

listen to: landslide by fleetwood mac, never grow up by taylor swift, growing up by river run north, rainbow by kacey musgraves

Karl helps one of his kids press their palms onto the wall. When they release their palm, pink paint remains, making a sort of leaf to the tree branches painted onto the wall.

“Now write your name,” Karl advises another kid, whose orange paint had already dried.

“G-R-A-H-A-M,” the boy writes out with a large permanent marker. “Can I take a picture? For my mom?”

All the rest of the children begin to shout their agreements, also wanting to bring home a picture for their parents. Karl grabs his yellow Polaroid camera and takes a picture of each handprint.

He keeps all of the pictures in the chest pocket of his denim jacket. “Okay, guys— to the sink! Whoever has the cleanest hands gets to help me pass out snacks!”

“Why are we having snack time so early?” It’s Graham that asks, the little one always eager to be around Karl.

Karl ignores the boy’s paint covered hands poking at his clean jacket, and answers him as politely as he can. “Mr. Jacobs forgot his lesson plans today, so we’re going to watch a movie instead.”

“A movie?” Graham’s eyes widen.

“Yep,” Karl giggles. He crouches down to Graham’s level and whispers, “You wanna pick it?”

“Nature Nut!” Graham cheers almost immediately, causing Karl to wince.

Ah, yes, the wonderful little DVDs of a lonesome man teaching the watcher about bugs and weird types of slugs. Karl actually has the entire collection, and Graham happens to adore them just as much as Karl did when he was a kid.

“Alright, go wash your hands and I’ll get it started.”

It’s a little girl named Hana who cleans her hands the best, so she passes out organic fruit gummies to everyone while Karl puts in the DVD.

While they watch the video, Karl checks his text messages.

There’s one from Chris: “I’ve already got Chandler on the couch. Sorry, man. You can have the floor, but it’s not gonna be comfy :(“

Right. Karl forgot that Chandler lives in the same complex as him. His apartment is probably just as flooded as Karl’s is. Now if the landlord would just answer his calls and help him... maybe this situation wouldn’t be so stressful.

Karl didn’t forget his lesson plans; they’re just submerged in his bedroom with everything else Karl has left lying on his carpet. And maybe it’s his fault for not buying more storage bins, but a studio apartment can only hold so much stuff.

Serves Karl right for doing his lesson plans at home instead of at the school like most of his fellow kindergarten teachers.

He lets out a quiet sigh, careful not to disturb the children. He only has a short list of friends left to ask, and while he doesn’t think they’ll mind him asking, he really hates to put anyone in that position.

Besides, most of his friends have roommates or significant others and Karl doesn’t want to ruin their routine. He’d hate to intrude. And he could always sleep in his car for a few days, but the amount of stuff he had to pack because of the flooding has barred any chance of a good night’s sleep.

The video ends, and Karl gets the kids seated with coloring pages until their parents arrive.

One by one, he I.Ds the parents and tells the kids goodbye, helping them put on their coats and take home whatever library book they picked out earlier.

Finally, there’s only one kid left, and Karl is a bit embarrassed of his hyper-awareness to Graham. It’s not even his fault, really. Graham just has a beautiful mom, who happens to be Karl’s beautiful friend, and sometimes Karl gets eager to see you during pickup time.

Whatever. It’s no big deal.

The kindergartener already has his coat on. His curly brown hair is almost unruly as he continues to work on his coloring sheet.

Karl pulls at the hem of his sage sweater sleeves and wonders if his hair looks okay. Maybe he should invest in a little desk mirror; or maybe that’s vain.

“Hey, Karl! Sorry I’m late!” You rush in, holding on to your leather messenger bag. You fix your glasses before they fall off the bridge of your nose, and Karl is so focused on the movement that he almost forgets about your child.

Until said child is scolding his mother. “Mom! You have to call him Mr. Jacobs! It’s rude to call him Karl!”

“Your mom is an adult,” Karl reminds Graham (as soon as he finds his voice.) “Since she isn’t a student, it’s okay for her to call me Karl.”

Graham pinches his lips together, and then shrugs. “Fine. Mom, we watched Nature Nut today.” He runs up to you and wraps his arm around your middle. “Can we go to the park and look for slugs?”

“Sure,” you giggle. “But we need to get home soon, okay, Bud? I have to make dinner and then we have to clean up the mess we made last night.”

Graham turns to Karl and smiles naughtily, like the trickster he often is. “Mom said I could tear up her papers last night. She said it’s There-pee.”

“Ther-a-py,” you emphasize for the five-year-old.

Karl studies your face, and he can tell that you seem a little more stressed than usual. “Therapy, huh?”

You smile sheepishly. “Well, when your son catches you tearing up old love notes, you have to let him in on the fun, right?”

“You are a team,” Karl acknowledges. He wants to ask more; wants to dig into your heart and extract whatever is hurting you, but your son is standing between the two of you, waiting for him to say goodbye. Karl clears his throat and picks at his sweater again. “Anyways, uh, text me tonight? Let me know you two got home safe. And, I’ll see you both tomorrow.”

“Yeah,” you breathe. You smile at him and then take Graham’s hand. “Thanks, Karl. I’ll text you.”

Karl spends the night at a motel down the road. He texts a few of his friends and hopes for good news in the morning, or at least a confirmation from his landlord.

When you text him, a little selfie of you and Graham, holding up what looks like microwaved s’mores, his heart grows fond, and he forgets about his own problems for a moment.

Life has never been very easy for you. From the get-go, you have always been destined to fail, growing up with an absent father and an overworked mother. With a dead-end dream like yours (writing, of all things), it’s no wonder you clung to what little breaths of freedom you had.

He was handsome and bold, with a carefree smile and brown eyes that mirrored the sun. The lead singer of a band, with a voice like chimes. And you fell just as hard as one of your many protagonists. Perhaps the mistake always lay in the fact that you put too much fantasy into reality. You have always romanticized the littlest things, and that comes back to bite you more often than not.

You never expected one: to get pregnant your senior year of high school, and two: have to go through it alone.

Of course, most people you come to love leave eventually. It’s something you have always remembered; something that sticks in the back of your brain like gum to the bottom of your child’s Spider-man skechers.

Graham is the only constant in your life. Though you’ve been blessed with a decent job editing for a webazine company, and you can work from home more often than not, Graham is the real thing that keeps you alive.

He’s the most precious boy, with brown curls and big brown eyes. He favors his father, and though that should deter you, it reminds you of innocent days, and it gives a new meaning to brown eyes. Graham is not his father, and he never was.

Graham certainly got his love of learning from you. Though he likes science more than writing, you adore how eager he is to always get to school. It helps that Karl is his teacher.

Karl’s been your friend since freshman year of highschool, when the two of you both took the same creative writing class the local university offered. Though the two of you had differing end goals, you often studied together and encouraged each other. He was there when you found out you were pregnant, and he was there when you found out you’d be raising your child alone.

Now life comes full circle, and you see him twice a day. You could go out on a limb and say he brightens up most mornings, but you would still give that slot to your son.

Karl is standing at the doorway now, greeting all of his students and helping them take off their book bags and coats. He’s wearing monochrome today: red pants, a red sweater, and red shoes.

Graham lights up almost immediately, and you are thankful today that you decided to dress Graham in his red t-shirt. “Mom! We match!”

“I know,” you grin, squeezing his hand.

Karl glances at Graham, and then you. His cheeks showcase that same pink hue they always do, and while it should clash with his red garments, it doesn’t. “Hey, Karl.”

“Hey,” he grins, cheeks full at the sight of you two.

Graham spreads his arms and waits for Karl to help him take off his jacket. “Do you see that we match, Mr. Jacobs?”

“Yo, that’s awesome, Little Man!” Karl gives Graham a fist bump that seems to appease him, and you wait for Graham to run to his friends before addressing Karl.

“How have you been?”

Karl sighs. He brushes his hair away from his eyes. “Okay. My- uh- my studio apartment flooded so I’m staying at a motel until my landlord can get me estimates on when I can come back home.”

“That sucks,” you frown. “You know, if you need a place to stay, I have a pullout couch in my office. And obviously, Graham wouldn’t mind.”

Karl pales. “Are you serious? I didn’t mean to suggest anything, Like I know you work from home and you need your office.”

“And you’ll be at school until three,” you say. “I’ll work then. C’mon, Karl. I don’t like knowing one of my friends has no place to stay.”

Karl bites his bottom lip and scratches the back of his neck. “Yeah. Okay. I’ll drive over after I check out of the motel.”

“Great!” You smile. “I’ll order pizza.”

"Graham, clean your room," you say, struggling to push your desk against your office wall. "We're going to have a guest for a few weeks."

"Mom," Graham whines, "They aren't going to look in my room."

You begin to take the cushions out of the spare couch to start setting up the pull-out bed. "Mr. Jacobs is coming over, Graham.  Don't you want to show him your collections?"

Graham's brown eyes grow wide. "Mr. Jacobs? You didn't tell me he was coming!"

"He's going to be staying with us for a little bit, okay? So I need you to be on your best behavior."

“Can I show him my worms?” Graham asks, alluding to the compost bin in the small backyard of your townhouse.

“Yes,” you say, thankful that he isn’t putting up much of a fight toward cleaning. You’re also thankful he isn’t asking any questions, as Graham always seems to have a few at the top of his tongue.

Graham cleans up his room quickly. You know for a fact that he’s just shoved all of his toys under his bed, but it’s enough until the weekend, when you’ll have more time to help him organize.

The little guy hoards rocks like no one’s business. You curse the day Karl decided to teach the kids about geodes.

“Wanna help me make up Mr. Jacobs’s room?” You half-yell, while grabbing spare bedding out of your linen closet.

Graham’s little footsteps are head before he answers, and soon he’s at your hip with a quick, “He can have my Frozen pillowcase!”

You hesitate to tell Graham that his Frozen pillowcase is currently on one of your pillows, but just you can’t give your guest a dirty pillowcase. “That one is in the wash, Buddy. Why don’t we give him your Spider-Man one?”

“So he matches my pajamas!” Graham is easily pleased, and he even takes one of his stuffed bears to add to Karl’s made-up bed. (“So he doesn’t get scared at night.”)

By the time the pizza arrives, Karl is just behind, so you keep Graham busy with a slice of cheese and a glass of diet pepsi (only half of a can, and only because it’s a special occasion) while the two of you bring in Karl’s stuff.

He surprisingly didn’t bring much, and when you ask about it, he grimaces. “My studio is pretty small so a lot of my stuff was on the ground and got mildewed. Other stuff was in bins so I just left it there. I only need clothes and my lesson plans, anyway.”

“Well, here’s the desk and bed. It’s not much, but there’s a lock on the door in case Graham ever gets too inquisitive — bless him — and curtains so the stupidly bright sun won’t wake you too early.”

“Those both sound like personal experiences, Y/n,” Karl teases. He takes off his jacket and throws it on the bed. “Yo! Spider-Man?”

“Graham picked it out,” you say. “He also relinquished one of his bears to keep you safe in the middle of the night. His words, not mine.”

“He’s so cute,” Karl mentions offhandedly. The fondness in his tone takes you back a bit. Not because the phrase isn’t true, it’s just that most people find your son annoying before they find him endearing. The change of tone is nice.

“He is,” you say. “And he’s dying to show you his room after we eat dinner.”

Karl gives you that same lopsided smile he often had in high school. Part of your brain shifts to his personal life, and you wonder why Karl himself isn’t in a romantic relationship. Not that he has to be, but the both of you are getting older, and Karl has always been one to express a fondness for having his own family one day. Maybe he just hasn’t found the right person.

It isn’t until Graham is peacefully in bed — after a very chaotic reading of Goodnight Moon by yours truly, and an argument that Mr. Jacobs cannot, in fact, sleep in the same room as him — that you actually have a chance to show Karl around the house.

“Here’s the guest bathroom. Graham almost always uses the bathroom in my room because he likes looking at the big tub. He will beg you to play with him, but if you’re busy don’t feel guilty telling him no. He knows what no means and he’s good about playing by himself.”

Karl giggles. “Okay. I don’t mind playing with him, though.“

You show him around the kitchen, where you left little spaces for him in the pantry. You show him the garbage bags and the T.V. settings and the list of compostable ingredients. “And also, please come and go as you please. Like, I completely understand that you’re here temporarily and you aren’t a babysitter or anything like that. I don’t expect you to be in charge of Graham any time outside of school.”

Karl blinks. “But if you ever need time away, you can ask me. I don’t mind babysitting.”

“I know,” you smile. “But Graham is my kid. I don’t need time away from him.”

You’re lying. Karl knows it. You’ve been in this single parenting thing for five years and you aren’t about to reach out for help now.

“Anyways, if you have any questions just ring me or ask me,” you say. “I’ve got to get to bed. Goodnight.”

“Thanks, Y/n.”

Karl thinks it’s sweet the way Graham insists on making his own breakfast.

You’re already up when Karl gets out of his (temporary) bedroom with his clothes tucked under his arm. You’re busy arguing with Graham. “You can’t fry your own omelette for the last time.”

Karl quirks an eyebrow at your exasperated face. You look stressed beyond belief, even though the day has just begun.

Karl tosses his clothes back in his room and walks into the kitchen. “Hey, Graham! Do you want to show me your rock collection?”

Graham spins on his sock-clad heels, eyes bright at the thought of seeing his teacher. “Mr. Jacobs! Yes! Let’s go!”

He grabs Karl’s hand with ease, leaving you room to finish making breakfast.

Graham’s room is fairly simple. The small wooden bed is covered in a green quilt, and beneath that, frozen-printed sheets that certainly don’t match. He has a tub of stuffed animals shoved against a small dresser.

Karl gets distracted by the framed picture on top of the dresser. It’s a picture of you and Graham’s father, a few months before you got pregnant. He’s smiling, and you’re holding up a peace sign. It makes Karl feel a bit sad, knowing that Graham’s dad never stayed around to see how wonderful he turned out to be.

Then again, a lot of people in your life left as soon as they found out. In high school, no one wants to be friends with a teenage mother.

Karl reckons that if he had a family like this, he’d never take them for granted.

Graham pulls out a gemstone. It’s a murky green one that Karl has let him take home from class. “Do you remember this, Mr. Jacobs?”

Karl grins. “Yeah, bud. Thanks for keeping it so safe for me.”

Graham beams. He grabs Karl’s hand and pulls him towards his dresser. “Can we match? I want to look like you.”

Karl feels his heart swell. He wants to smother the young boy in affection, but he doesn’t want to cross a line. He’s your friend, sure, but he’s also Graham’s teacher. He can’t coddle Graham more than the other children. He already has a godchild to coddle. “I’m wearing yellow today. Do you have any yellow clothes?”

“Let’s look!” Graham yanks open one of the drawers and begins pulling out the articles of clothing one by one. “No, no, no... Here!” He finds a pair of yellow overalls, folded amongst the mess he made. “I’ll wear these!”

“Let’s clean up first, okay?” Karl grabs the overalls. “So it’s clean when you come home from school.”

Graham, looking like the last thing he’d ever want to do is disappoint Karl, begins to pick up each shirt with obvious intent. He tries to fold them, and does a somewhat decent job, so much so that Karl leaves it, thinking you’ll find it endearing rather than annoying.

He really loves that about you. He likes your patience with Graham. You’re so young, and in reality, he squashed so many early dreams of yours. No matter your lot in life, you never blamed your child. Karl thinks that’s why Graham is so open, so adaptable, so endearing.

He helps Graham get dressed and leaves him in his room so that he, himself, can get ready.

When he emerges from his shower, hair wet and clothed in yellow, he smells something amazing.

He doesn’t want to intrude on your morning with Graham. He already feels too indebted to you already.

“Have an omelet,” you say. Wisps of hair cover your face. You place a plate down in front of him.

Graham is already eating his omelet, slowly, while flipping through a picture book. He sounds out words he recognizes, but stays silent the rest of the time.

Karl takes out his phone and scrolls through his instagram feed just as your own phone begins to ring.

“Shit,” you curse, and then immediately apologize to Graham. You press the red button and tap anxiously on the tabletop.

“Everything okay?” Karl asks.

You run your hands over your hair and let them rest on the back of your neck. “Yeah is just—“

The phone rings again, and this time you pick it up. “What do you want? ... Why would you tell me that? ... Why should I care? ... Please stop contacting me, okay? Goodbye.”

You slam the phone down and leave the room. Karl watches you disappear down the hallway, sniffling.

“Mommy is upset,” Graham says. He looks at Karl, lip quivering. “At me?”

“No, Buddy! Of course not!” Karl reaches over the table to ruffle Graham’s curls. “Never at you.”

“When we tore up paper, she was crying.” Graham fiddles with his book page.

Karl wonders why your ex’s actions are being brought up five years later. Last he heard, you had fully healed from the breakup long before Graham’s first birthday. But now he’s about to be six, and you're suddenly upset?

He’ll have to ask you about it soon.

“Are you ready to go to school, Buddy?”

“Yeah!”

You cradle your face in your hands and try to ease the tears back in. You’ll never get this article proofread and sent if you can’t see the keys.

The door opens, and Graham runs in just in time for you to finish wiping your eyes. “Hey, kiddo! How was school?”

“Mr. Jacobs let us finger paint!” Graham holds up his palm, covered in dried paint, and grins brightly. “Can I have gogurt?”

“Yeah bud. Why don’t you put something on the T.V.? You can have your snack in the living room today.”

“Yes!” Graham takes blueberry gogurt out of the fridge and — after getting you to tear it open — runs into the living room. Sneakers and backpack still on.

Karl trails behind, clutching a messenger bag to his chest. “What’s going on?”

You sigh and close the laptop. The manuscript will have to wait. “Ben called. About a week ago. His girlfriend is pregnant. Called me to tell me he wasn’t going to leave her— like that would heal what he did to me. Then he called this morning to tell me they’re engaged.” You burst into tears then, and you feel so pathetic for doing this in front of your old schoolmate, that you hide your face behind your palms and allow your shoulders to shake. “Why weren’t we enough? Why wasn’t I enough?”

Karl scoots one of the chairs in front of you and sits, leaning his elbows on his knees. “Hey. Look at me.” With gentle hands, he grabs your wrists and pulls them away from your face. “It is not your fault he left.”

“But it has to be me in some way,” you retort. “He must not have loved me. Something, because now he’s going to raise her child after he left mine. Graham deserves a dad.”

Karl places his forehead against yours. The two of you used to do it all the time in school, mostly with immature giggles in the spaces between, but now it’s heavy with intention. “Graham has not felt even a little bit unloved in your care. You are all he needs, okay? You’re amazing.”

You nod, head still pressed to Karl’s. “Yeah. Okay. Sorry for getting too emotional, there.”

“Be as emotional as you want,” Karl says. “I’ll be here to balance you out.”

Your heart stutters at the words, like maybe they mean something more than he’s letting on. Of course it’s stupid to think Karl Jacobs would ever even consider you, but just the knowledge that he cares makes your soul feel a little lighter.

“I’m a mess,” you stutter, bringing your fist up to wipe at your nose.

“Nah,” Karl grins. He runs the pad of his thumb across your cheek and grins. “You’re alright.”

“It’s snowing!” Graham wakes Karl up by jumping on his chest.

Karl sucks in a breath, winded at the sudden weight, and grabs the boy, lifting him off of his chest and onto the mattress. “Hey, Buddy. Let’s not jump on sleeping people, okay?”

“Okay,” Graham says. He’s already lost interest in Karl, now crawling off of the bed to open the blinds. “Come look at the snow!”

“I see!” Karl rubs his tired eyes and checks his watch. “We might have a snow day, Graham.”

“Yes!” Graham pumps his fist into the air. “Let’s go tell mom!”

You’re sitting on your bed, chewing on a red licorice rope and flipping through a fashion magazine. You look up when Karl and Graham enter.

Karl likes seeing you like this: the domesticity of seeing you in the morning, lazy and true. His chest sparks when he thinks this may be one of the only moments he can capture you like this, so he intends to commit the sight to memory.

“Did I hear snow day?” You grin at Karl, childlike wit in your own eyes — the same as your son’s.

“Looks like it.” Karl rolls up the sleeves of the sweater he slept in. “You want pancakes? I make some mean chocolate chip pancakes.”

You shift your gaze away from his arms and clear your throat. “Uh, yeah. Just let me get dressed and I’ll help—“

“No need,” Karl insists. “Enjoy your quiet time. Graham and I will make the most delicious pancakes you’ve ever tasted.”

“With lots of chocolate chips!” Graham shouts.

You give him a pointed look. “But not too many.”

Graham huffs. “But not too many,” he repeats.

Momentary splashes sound from your bathroom, followed by Graham screaming “It’s a dragon! Run for cover!”

Karl giggles from his place on the couch. He’s got mushroom-patterned socks on, and he’s tucked up into the cushions, nursing a can of Monster. “How does he still have so much energy?”

You sigh and pull your beanie down over your forehead. “You’d think a snow day would tire him out. Thanks for constantly carrying him up the hill, by the way. I know you’re a teacher, but sometimes I forget how good you are with kids.”

“I do have a godson,” Karl reminds you.

“But Tucker is a baby,” you say. You only know the baby’s name because of Karl’s constant snap stories about him.

“Most babies and kids want the same thing. Affection and attention.” Karl scoots over to the edge of the couch and pats the cushion.

You sit next to him. “I guess that’s true. You’re really good with Graham. He’s not this open to other adults.”

Karl is clearly blushing now; you can see his pink cheeks even in the light of the television. “He’s great in class, always helping the other kids.”

“He wants to impress you,” you say. You pop open a can of orange soda and take a sip. “He thinks you’re just the coolest guy.”

Karl laughs and shakes his head. “Didn’t you hear, Y/n? I’m handsome and cool.”

“Oh, of course,” you nudge his shin with our own sock-clad foot. “How could I forget? Mr. Ladies Man in high school.”

This makes Karl blush even harder, because he most certainly was not a ladies man in high school. In fact, he was a nerd in all senses of the word, part of the debate club with a few other boys. He had a few dates here and there, but nothing ever stuck.

“Shut up,” he mumbles. “My time is gonna come.”

“Hasn’t it already?” you ask before you can really process your own words. But of course he knows that he’s grown into his face, right?

Karl is positively handsome, eyes bright and lashes long. He’s so warm and comforting to you. He must be just as comforting to everyone else.

“What do you mean?”

“You’re handsome, Karl,” you say plainly.

“You mean that?”

“Of course I do,” you say. “Why would I lie?”

Karl opens his mouth, perhaps to call you out. To tell you you’ve been too honest, but he’s interrupted by your son.

“Mom! I’m ready to get out now!”

“I should go,” you say, still looking at his eyes.

“Yeah,” he says. His sweater has small spots on the shoulders where snow has fallen and since melted. He shivers.

“You should take a shower. You’ll catch a cold.”

“Okay,” he whispers. “Yeah, I’ll do that.”

Chandler comes over the following Saturday night to hang out with Karl, and you’re surprised at how much he truly hasn’t changed since high school.

He’s still got infamously perfect eyebrows, and his voice is still monotonous despite its humor. “Nice place.” He raises his brows as he looks around.

“Who are you?” Graham is sitting at the kitchen table, watching Minecraft playthroughs (kid-friendly ones you’ve watched through yourself) on your phone to entertain himself while you clean.

“I’m Chandler, Karl’s friend.”

“This is Mr. Jacob’s friend from school,” you say, detailing your words so they’re easier for your son to digest.

Graham stares at him for a moment, not quite judging but not quite accepting either. “Okay. Do you want to see my rock collection?”

Chandler looks genuinely excited, and accepts before you can come up with an excuse for him. Graham tells Chandler to stay in the kitchen while he grabs all of his rocks.

“How have you been?” you ask the taller man. “Like, with the flooding and everything?”

“Well, I’m on a couch at Chris’, which is good since he doesn’t charge rent. But that means I’m near Tucker, and that baby has some lungs.”

You laugh. “I remember when Graham was a baby. I was so young, and my mom told me it was my responsibility to wake up and take care of him whenever he cried in the middle of the night. I was so pissed at her for making me do that, but those were some of the best nights to bond with him.” You realize you’re ranting and shake your head. “Whatever. Baby screams are loud as hell.”

“You can say that again. I’ve been talking to my friend Jimmy about taking his spare room and paying rent. I dunno how many more sleepless nights I can take.”

“Why would you need to pay rent if you’re just crashing?” You wipe down the kitchen table to keep yourself busy.

“Didn’t Karl tell you? Our landlord is in heaps of trouble because the pipes weren’t up to code and that’s why they busted. The damage is basically too expensive to fix, so we’ve got to find new places.”

You stop cleaning. “Karl didn’t tell me that.”

“Oh.” Chandler scratches his brow. “He probably didn’t want to worry you. He feels really bad that he’s stayed with you this long.”

“It’s only been a month or so,” you counter. “Besides, Karl’s a great housemate. He cleans and keeps Graham occupied. Plus, now I have someone to watch corny game shows with.”

Chandler grins. “Oh. Okay, I get it.”

“Get what?” Karl, finally out of the shower, steps into the kitchen and immediately tackles Chandler in an energized hug.

“Nothing!” Chandler’s voice cracks

You shoot Chandler a weird look, and change the subject. “Where are you guys going?”

“To play video games at Jimmy’s.” Karl says, and the thrill in his voice makes you think of high school. Of the debate team bus rounding the corner. Of you standing there, waiting to congratulate him with a big hug and a frosty from Wendy’s.

You miss it. “Have fun, okay? I’m probably going to tuck in as soon as Graham does, so just let yourself in.”

“You’re leaving?” Graham comes in, and his arms are filled with smooth and rough stones and gems he’s both found by himself and bought at random general stores while traveling.

“Not before I see your rocks!” Chandler says with so much enthusiasm, you think he’s telling the truth.

Graham giggles and drops the rocks onto the ground. Of course, he wants your guest to sit on the floor and count rocks. You’re almost embarrassed.

“ ‘ Okay, Y/n?” Karl laughs at your expression. Then he places his arm on your shoulder, thumbs the skin of your upper arm.

And once again, it’s high school. It’s senior year graduation and Karl is the only one who congratulates you. It’s his comforting touch, him coming over in the middle of the night after you texted him a picture of your first sonogram. It’s that same comforting touch. That little “I’m here,” and it melts you on the inside, leaves you in a shell of an eighteen girl again. Scared, and worried, and a little less alone.

“Yeah,” you manage. “I’m okay.”

The television plays Cartoon Network reruns on a low hum. Karl is curled up in a blanket, nursing a bottle of water and thinking over Chandler’s words.

You’ve liked her since high school, dude.

Which is a complete lie. Seriously, Karl didn’t have a crush on you in high school. He would know if he had a crush on his best friend. You’ve been his friend since freshman year, and that’s all you’ve ever been.

Now in college, it was different. In college, Karl was alone in a dorm with Chris, and you were one of the only people from high school he stayed in contact with. In college, he would bring you your favorite snacks and drinks, and other things you would forget to buy because you were a part-time student and a full-time mom. In college, you would pull all-nighters with him, working on your exams while Graham was asleep, then using energy drinks to get through the next day.

Karl even remembers the time your mom caught the three of you fast asleep on your rug, with unopened monster cans and an empty milk bottle beside you.

Throughout your entire pregnancy he was warned not to stay friends with the pregnant girl — it’d be too much for him, he wouldn’t want to become the new father, and all kinds of other stuff people would mumble to him when you weren’t around.

But you never expected him to be anything other than your friend. You never asked him for the help he gave — though you thanked him always — and you never once assumed he’d take the role of Graham’s dad.

And now… now he finds himself wishing you would.

“Mr. Jacobs?” Graham creeps up without him even realizing.

Karl jumps, sets his water — and thoughts — aside. “Hey, Bud. It’s really late. What are you doing up?”

Graham sniffs, and Karl realizes that the boy is crying. “I had a nightmare.”

Karl holds out his arms before he can think, and lets the five-year-old crawl into his lap. He wraps them both in his blanket and turns the television up just a little more. “Was it scary?”

“You left.” Graham says, voice less watery, like he doesn’t know the weight of his words. He’s focused on the rerun of Adventure Time that’s playing. He’s not even remotely interested in his nightmare now, with his tears dried up, and his eyes drooping back towards slumber.

“I’m going to leave one day,” Karl says, because he thinks it’s important that Graham knows.

“You should stay with me and Mom,” Graham says. He yawns. “We like you so much!”

Karl’s heart stutters. He tries not to think about it.

When Graham’s bed is empty the next morning, you freak out. He’s always in his room in the morning. Even if he wakes up before you, he stays in and plays with his toys.

You’ve already got your phone out, and your mother’s number called, when you walk into the living room.

Relief floods your system. Karl and Graham are asleep on the couch, snuggled up serenely like they didn’t just cause you to have a premature heart attack.

You hang up before the call to your mom can go through and stand there, watching the two boys sleep. Graham has both his arms wrapped around Karl’s forearm. It’s such a sweet picture that you take out your phone and snap one.

The flash is on.

Karl scrunches his nose and winces. “What the–”

“Sorry!” You whisper. “You both looked so cute, I couldn’t help it.”

Karl smiles, still sleepy, and finally opens his eyes. He peers at you, stormy green under fluttering lashes and you’re almost intimidated into looking away. “He had a nightmare.”

“Oh?”

“About me leaving.”

“Oh.” You frown. “I’m really sorry about that. I keep telling him that you’re moving out soon, but I don’t think he fully understands.”

Graham stirs. You reach down and pick him up. Your knuckles brush across Karl’s warm, sweater-clad chest and you suddenly wish you could cuddle with him, too. You shake the thoughts away and focus on your drowsy son. “You’re staying at Grandma's for a few days, remember?”

Graham rubs his eyes and perks up. “And I’ll see her cat?”

“Yes,” you confirm. “But we’ve got to get you dressed because she’s coming in a few minutes.”

“Karl Jacobs!” Your mom’s voice embarrassingly rings through the apartment, and you realize Karl has taken it upon himself to open the door. “Y/n told me she had a temporary roommate but I never thought she would finally ask you!”

“Oh my gosh…” you mumble, buckling Graham’s overalls and hauling him up into your arms. “Mom! His apartment flooded so he’s staying here. Don’t be weird about it.”

“But he’s so handsome,” your mom coos. You’re concerned she might reach forward and pinch Karl’s already ruddy cheeks.

“Thanks,” Karl laughs. “But she’s right, I’m just squatting until I can find a new place.”

Your mom harrumphs. “Well, I don’t see why you can’t stay here forever. Y/n doesn’t even use that office room. And even if she did, the two of you could just share a room.”

“Mom!” You plunk Graham into her hands and grab his overnight bag. “You have to leave.”

“Did I say something wrong?” She sounds worried, but there’s an undisclosed mirth in her eyes that makes you think of your freshman year, when you did have a crush on Karl.

“You said everything wrong,” you say, kindly pushing her out. “Have a good time, Graham. I love you! As always, Mom, call if you need me to come get him.”

“Yeah, right!” She yells over her shoulder. Graham is already giggling, so you close the door with confidence.

You turn back to your roommate. “I’m sorry about that, Karl.”

“It’s fine.” He smiles, but it’s reserved. “But speaking of me finding a place… I know Chandler told you that I can’t go back to my own apartment. I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner.”

“It’s okay,” you say. You want to say “You can stay here as long as you want, and long as you’ll let me keep you,” but that would reveal too much, and you don’t want to lose the one good friend you have.

“And I was thinking I should move out soon anyway.” Karl pulls his sweater sleeves until they cover his hands. He’s hiding. He’s shielding himself the same way he did in junior year, when he got turned down by his crush to go to the prom. “I don’t think it’s good for Graham to get this attached to me if I’m just going to leave.”

“Oh,” Your sleeves are too short, but you want to shield yourself too. “Yeah, that’s… that’s probably a good idea.”

Karl stands there for a beat, like he’s waiting for you to say something more. Like he hasn’t just taken your heart and pushed it aside. Like this hurts a lot less than it actually does.

But any word out of your mouth would be tearful. It would be honest. It would ruin everything. “I’m going to go on a run.”

There’s a cricket outside that won’t stop chirping against your window. You blame it for your insomnia, choosing to ignore the anxiety of eventually losing Karl. It feels so horribly childish, since you’ll see him when you drop Graham off at school. And you’ll see him whenever the two of you go out for coffee on weekends.

But you won’t see him in the kitchen, reaching for the pancake mix so his shirt rises up and you can see the dimples in his back. You won’t see him humming along to the radio while he works on his lesson plans. You won’t feel his warmth when the two of you stay awake, nursing spiked lemonade and giggling at the commentary videos you find on YouTube.

He’ll just be Karl again. He won’t be home anymore.

Startled by the realization, you get out of your covers and rush to your door.

It opens before you can even reach for the doorknob, and there’s Karl in his pajamas, biting his lip and avoiding your eyes.

“I don’t want you to leave,” you say, just as Karl confesses,

“I love you.”

You open your arms and he dives in, face pressed into the space where your neck meets your shoulder. Warmth envelopes you and the scent of pine fills your nose.

Karl is timeless. Youthful glory and childish pride. He’s a pinch on the side and a push on the swings. Like a rock that actually skips on the first try. Like shoes that you can slip on when they’re still tied. And he’s here, in your arms, squeezing you like you’re something valuable enough to lose. He’s confessing love like you aren’t the worst possible candidate for his heart.

“I can’t offer you much,” you start, but Karl bumps his forehead against yours, boyish and playful — football fields and bright red lockers and secret notes on bathroom walls.

“I’ve known you for years, Y/n,” Karl’s voice is a low rumble. Green grass eyes blinking at you like you’re something to second glance at. “I know what I’m getting into. I want you. I want Graham. I want everything this is, and everything we’ve been for the past month. I don’t want this to end.”

You close your eyes, because his are too honest. He’s open and vulnerable and gentle — a child on the first day of school, ready to make friends. You take a deep breath, try to remember what you were like on your first day. Rosy cheeks and shy glances. Knobby knees and a trusting heart. You reach out for whoever you once were — the Y/n with a heart open and willing to be loved. “I don’t want this to end either. I’m in love with you, Karl.”

His grin lights up your world in its entirety. Gold flecks in emerald green disappear as he smiles, too thrilled to keep his eyes open. And when he kisses you, warm lips against cold ones, you feel like a puzzle has just slotted into place.

It would only make sense that you would grow to love the boy you grew up with.

[itsallyscorner]

Just saw your little mix!reader au (LOVED IT) and I was thinking, what if y/n is kinda like Perrie aka the queen of leaking things and she's dating Tom and everyone makes fun of them bc they are THE couple that keeps spoiling/leaking stuff

Hello lovey!! Thank you for requesting and reading my other work, it’s very much appreciated!🥰 I love this request sm, omg. Happy reading, I hope you like it!💖

💌.

The King and Queen of Leaking

I had WAY too much fun with this request...enjoy!🥰

It had been a regular day in your household. You were in the kitchen starting up on breakfast while Tom was in his makeshift gym doing his morning workout. You were just finishing up on the eggs when your phone pinged. Glancing at your phone you saw that it was a text from Jade.

Jade💜: Babes! Check you email ASAP!!!

The texts in the band’s group chat began to flood in making you curious. Have you all done something to get in trouble with management? Maybe it was an awards nomination? Turning off the stove, you place the last pile of scrambled eggs onto Tom’s plate. After you set the plates on the table, you pull out one of the dining chairs and sit on it, pulling out your phone to see more texts from the girls.

Perrie🦋: Oh.My.God. I CANT BELIEVE IT!!!

Leigh-Anne😻: AHHHHHH THIS IS BIG!!! FIRST NUMBER ONE OF THE YEAR!!!

Jesy💖: I’m so so so SO proud of us!!! And our fans omg, they’re amazing!! I LOVE YOU ALL SO MUCH!!

Jesy💖: Where the hell is (y/n)???

Jade💜: Probs busy with Tom👀🍆💦

Perrie🦋: Has she not seen the news yet??

Leigh-Anne😻: Based on her lack of response, I’m guessing she’s busy😉

Jesy💖: (Y/N) I SWEAR HOP OFF TOM’S BLOODY DICK, SWEET MELODY IS NUMBER 1 ON THE CHARTS!!!!!

You gasp once you read Jesy’s last message. Your fingers move rapidly across your screen, exiting the messaging app to open up your email. The anticipation builds up in your body as you refreshed your inbox. Your leg bouncing as the little circle that went around and around popped up on your screen. For the last couple of days and weeks, your fans have been streaming Sweet Melody to top the charts and get it to Number 1. It has only been 10 weeks since “Confetti” has been released and the album has been getting an amazing response. Seeing your fans’ determination to get the song up the charts made your adore them even more and you just wanted to hug and thank every single one of them. You guys had the most amazing fans in the world, though many celebrities claimed that theirs were the best, Mixers were the crème de la crème in your eyes.

Your inbox refreshes and the first email you see is from the Official Charts Company, a company that celebrated singles that reached number one on the charts. You click on the email and carefully skim through the paragraph. When you read that Sweet Melody had officially charted at number one you let out an excited squeal. Tessa, who has been sitting beside your seat, jumped up to her feet the same time you did. Your crouched down as she happily bounced around you.

“Number one Tess! We made it to number one!” You squealed as you gently squished her face. She let out a bark before licking your face.

“Let’s go tell daddy the news, huh? Let’s go!” You couldn’t contain your excitement, the feeling rushing through your veins. You felt like your heart could burst from all the happiness you were currently feeling.

You practically ran to where Tom was, your feet moving as quick as your heartbeat. Tessa’s nails clicked against the wooden floors echoing in the hallway.

Tom, who had just finished his workout, heard the commotion outside. Your excited squeals and the sounds of both your and Tessa’s feet getting closer to him. The stomps came to a halt once you stopped at the doorway of his “gym”. He looks up from his phone and looks at you expectantly. You were beaming, like the sun that brought light into the room. His expression mirrors yours, but his smile was a bit more confused.

“Hi darling, what’s up?” He asks, removing his AirPods and placing them back into their case. You squeal excitedly once again as you run across the room and stand in front of him. Though, it was as if your feet had springs in them because you couldn’t stop jumping. Tom looks at you amused but was still confused.

“(Y/n), what did you do, love?” He asks. Maybe you were up to something?

You stop jumping for a bit and unlock your phone, shoving it into his face. He moves his face back so his eyes can focus but ends up taking the phone from you because you were moving too much. As you dance around the room, Tessa joining in on your little fiesta, Tom reads the email to himself. Once he reads the news his jaw drops looking up at you with wide eyes.

“NUMBER ONE BABY!” You scream before running into his arms. A look of shock is on his face before he screams “YES!” at the top of his lungs. Your legs wrap around his torso as his arms support your back and your bum. He starts shaking his hips and jumping around just like you were as you both celebrated your band’s huge success.

Your cheeks began to hurt from smiling too much, but you just couldn’t keep it off your face. You were too happy to keep a neutral face so you continued to smile. Tom looks up at you with the most proudest expression. He knew how hard you and the girls worked on every song on your albums, so to see that hard work being rewarded made him feel immense amounts of joy for you all.

You began to giggle as you hid your face behind you hands, Tom still carrying you. “I can’t believe this actually happened, oh my god.” Your voice came out muffled but Tom could still understand you. He chuckled while he placed your feet back to the ground. You leaned your head against his chest while his hands rubbed circles onto your back.

“Of course it happened love, you guys deserve it.” He places a kiss on your temple while he swayed you guys back and forth. His cheek resting against you hair as he held you. Your excitement boiling down to disbelief at the news.

He moved his head and gently removed your hands from your face. “Look at me.” Turns out you were silently crying, your tear stained cheeks making his heart drop, but then he noticed they were tears of joy.

You sniffled, smiling when Tom wiped some of your tears away. His hands cupped your cheeks while his eyes gazed at you lovingly, “You have no idea how proud I am of you— and the girls. You guys have worked day and night for this album to exist. I’ve seen you guys write each song and saw how much thought goes into each one, you guys are fucking incredible. Look at how much success it’s getting, you guys did that.”

You laughed as more tears ran down your cheeks. You groaned throwing your head back and wiping them away, “Well, I couldn’t have done it without you. You’ve been so understanding with everything and you managed to be one of my biggest inspirations for writing. Thank you. I love you so much.” You beamed at him before crashing your lips against his soft ones. You felt his lips curve up to a smile as his hands held your face. You suddenly pulled away, Tom chasing your lips, still stuck in your little moment.

“Oh my God! We need to tell the fans! They’ve been streaming for weeks!” You pecked his lips once more before rushing out the room. The excitement entering your body once again. Tom looks down at your phone in his hands smirking. He turned to Tessa, “Give her a few seconds.”

“MY PHONE!” He heard you exclaim in the hallway. Your head popped from behind the entrance. You skipped into the room and took the phone from Tom.

“I love you!” You sang, kissing his lips again, then skipping out to the hallway.

Before you can post anything of the band’s new achievement, you opened the group chat.

(Y/n)🌻: First off, I was far from Tom’s dick, I was actually cooking😌

(Y/n)🌻: Second, I love you all so much!!!!!! I can’t believe we did it, the amount of pride I feel to be part of this band is astronomical right now! Nine years together and we’re still making it, I love you guys!❤️❤️❤️

After you messaged the girls, you opened up Instagram. Meanwhile, Tom had joined you, dressed in new clothes and fresh out the shower. He hummed at the food on the table and pressed a kiss to your forehead, his way of silently thanking you. He sat in the chair beside yours and began to dig into his breakfast.

“Do you mind if I film a video real quick?” You ask him, looking into the camera as you fixed your hair. Tom wipes his mouth and swallows his food.

“Go ahead, tell the world you’re number one.” He teased you. You rolled your eyes though your lips were curved into a smile. You prepared yourself before pressing down on the circle.

Video:

“Hi guys! So I’ve just found out some amazing news and I thought you guys might want to hear it too—“ Tom began to drum on the table, making you look at him in amusement.

“Oh, that’s a good idea.” You nod, approving of his actions. When he stops drumming and points at you, you look back to the camera with a giant smile.

“Guys...WE MADE IT TO NUMBER ONE! SWEET MELODY IS AT NUMBER ONE ON THE CHARTS!” You announced, voice bouncing off the walls of your house. Behind you was Tom, also cheering equally as loud while he pumped his fists into the air.

“Thank you guys so much! The girls and I love each and every single one of you, you guys are the best fans in the world and we are forever grateful for you. Thank you!” You blew a kiss into the camera before ending the video.

You watched the video over then tagged the girls and the group’s Instagram. You quietly hummed Sweet Melody to yourself as you clicked around and added some stickers to your video. When you were content, you clicked on share and turned your phone off.

“Alright, celebratory breakfast.” You sang as you grabbed your fork and stabbed it into a strawberry.

Tom chuckled beside you and nudged your shoulder, “Then celebratory sex after?” You hummed at his suggestion, eyes teasingly squinting at him.

“Give me time to digest first. Then celebratory sex.” When Tom agreed you laughed and dug into your food. Everything was going great at the moment. Your song is number one on the charts, your career is flourishing, you had four amazing sisters, and you had the world’s best boyfriend. It was as if nothing could go wrong.

~half an hour later~

Tom had you pinned to the bed, light kisses scattering along your skin while his hands rubbed your thighs. With clothes still on, he was snuggled in between your legs, finding comfort in the tight space. He managed to get your top off leaving you in that red lacy bra he adored on you. His lips ghosted between the valley of your breast and down to your belly button. His lips stopping right above your sweatpants. He tilted his head back a bit to drink in your appearance. Hooded dark eyes, laid out before him, that red bra making your breasts look irresistible, you were perfect.

“Look at my pretty girl. Aren’t you stunning?” His voice was deeper than his usual chipper tone. The tone brought butterflies in your belly, the vibrations of his voice going straight to your core.

“I’m all yours, Tommy.” Your hand finds its way to the brown curls that rested on his head. You gently guide his head back up and pull his lips towards you. Your lips connect, first gently and almost innocent, but full of passion. The passion burns more when he presses his hard on against you, roughening up the passionate kiss, your teeths clashing and tongues wrestling. You were lost in his trance until your phone tinged.

Tom curses under his breath as you both jump from the sudden sound. You quietly apologize and mute your phone, not bothering to look at the notification. When you lay back on the bed, Tom’s palms press against you cheeks as he crashes you lips together. His hands move below you, tugging off your sweatpants. He was about to remove the last layer of clothing separating you two when your phone continuously began to vibrate. On the other night stand, Tom’s phone began to vibrate as well.

Your boyfriend groans plopping his head against your stomach. You sigh apologetically, hands now stroking his bare back.

“We should get that, seems important.” He kisses your stomach, hesitantly dragging himself off you. You roll over to your stomach and grab your phone.

Notifications

Jesy💖: We love you too my darling!! We miss you so much here in London:(

Perrie🦋: I would say let’s have a sleepover as soon as you come back from Atlanta, but the pandemic:( I miss you tons!!!🥺

Jade💜: I love youuuuuuuu❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

Leigh-Anne😻: You absolute gem, I love you❤️

Jesy💖: (Y/n) what did you tag me in?

Jade💜: Wait, I’m tagged too.

Perrie🦋: I didn’t get tagged :(

Oh wait, I see it :D

Leigh-Anne😻: Why do I have a bad feeling about what she tagged us in?

Jesy💖: (y/n)?

(Y/N)!?

WHY IS SHE NOT REPLYING WHEN I NEED HER TO REPLY!

Perrie🦋: OIIII!!! AT LEAST IT WASNT ME THIS TIME🤪

Jade💜: Jesus, she’s turning into Tom, smh.

Leigh-Anne😻: She’s always been like this lmao

Tom’s only made her worse🙄

Jesy💖: (Y/N) DELETE YOUR FUCKING STORY ON INSTAGRAM THEY ARENT SUPPOSED TO KNOW THAT SM IS NUMBER ONE YET!!!!!!!!!!

Jade💜: I bet you NOW she’s busy with Tom

hehehe🍆💦👀

Leigh-Anne😻: Babes!!! Now’s not the time to be doing the deed with Tom!!

Jesy💖: Hold on let me text Tom too.

Your eyes widen as you read the messages from the girls. A string of “shits” with a mix of “fucks” fall continuously out your mouth. You struggle to turn around, getting tangled in the sheets. When you finally sit up properly you go to your Instagram and rush to your stories.

“Uh, (y/n)—“

“Yeah, I know, I know.” You frustratedly mumble as your thumbs fumble on the screen. You go to your story and don’t even hesitate to delete the video you posted just half an hour ago. Tom’s phone rings and you swear you hear him gulp. He answers it, putting it on speaker mode and holds it away from his ears.

“Tom Holland I blame you!” You hear Jesy’s voice through the phone. You double check if you deleted the story before turning your phone off and shoving your face into your pillow.

“I didn’t even do anything!” Tom defended himself, almost laughing. Honestly, as bad as the situation was, it was ironic how it was his girlfriend that leaked the news. You guys are really meant to be.

“The hell you weren’t! Literally drumming on the table, you div! I can’t with you two!” Jesy exclaimed. You knew she was joking by the tone of her voice. “Where is your girlfriend anyway?”

Tom giggle shoving the phone next to your ear, “My lovely girlfriend is right beside me.”

You hear Jesy gag, “Babe, did you even read the email properly?”

You lift your head from the pillow and take Tom’s phone. “No, I got too excited about getting number one.” You admitted pouting. Tom chuckles at you, moving to lay beside you. His arms wrapping around your almost bare figure and shoving his head in between your breasts. Nothing sexual but because they felt like soft pillows against his cheeks.

“They said they’re announcing it on Monday.” She informed you chuckling. You whined and facepalmed yourself. “It’s okay, hun. You were just in the moment, I know how you can get. Although, the fans absolutely love it.” She mentioned.

“Do they?” You asked stifling a laugh.

“Having an absolute field day, they’ve deemed you the Queen of Leaks. Apparently Tom’s been crowned as your king.” She teases. You feel Tom laugh against your chest, his shoulders shaking.

“Alright, I’ll go now, let you two get back to what you were doing. I suggest lurking through Twitter and Instagram, the fans’ reactions are hilarious.” You bid your goodbyes and hang up. Tom’s head pops up from your chest, “Can we please go through the reactions?”

“I was thinking the same thing.” You tell him already opening up Instagram. You go through your tags to see a bunch of memes. Tom shifts to sit beside you, throwing his arm around your shoulder.

Some fan reactions:

🖤 1,944 likes

Tom watching (y/n) make her video and being the supportive boyfriend he is🥺 They’re made for each other I swear

🖤 1,393 likes

The girls watching (y/n)’s story and finding out she just leaked the news. We stan our Queen of Leaks😌🙌🏼👑

🖤 1,838 likes

Tom realizing that (y/n)’s really the one because they both can’t keep secrets without spoiling them. This is why they don’t have good things smh.

🖤 1,878 likes

Jesy calling the police, not for Tom, but for her because she’s ready to shred that boy’s ass for turning (y/n) into him💀

You and Tom spend the rest of the day stuck in bed going through the different reactions from your fans. They were entertaining, making you and your boyfriend laugh at your fans’ humor.

While you sat in between his legs, your back against his chest, Tom leans down to nuzzle his face into your neck. He breaths in the scent of you mixed with your shampoo, something he would never get tired of. You feel that goofy grin press onto your skin making you look up at him.

“Why’s that look on your face?” You ask hun teasingly.

“Because the fans have a point.”

“That we both can’t keep shit to ourselves?” You laugh. Tom makes a sound of agreement pulling you closer.

“Well yeah—but when they say that we’re meant for each other, they have a point. You really are my soulmate.” The goofy grin on his face was permanently stuck to his lips. You giggled shifting to peck his lips. When he sees you struggle he meets you halfway, finally touching those soft luscious lips of yours.

“I guess I am.” You hummed contently, mirroring that lovestruck look on his face. There was no other person in the world that you’d be willing to spend this moment with. The more you stared into those honey brown eyes of his the more you believed your fans; he truly was your soulmate.

[caramelcal]

Songwriting and Fake Dating

Request:  Luke Patterson fic? Reader is hopelessly in love with her best friend’s (Carrie) step-brother Luke but isn’t suppose to be because they are “rivals” since she is apart of Dirty Candy & he is in JATP. BUT at a party reader ends up in a sticky situation that Luke saves her from by pretending to be her boyfriend. Which eventually turns into a deal they make? “I’ll help you with your writers block (Luke/Bc shes a mad lyric genius) & I’ll help keep the lacrosse team off your back”

Word Count: 1.25k

a/n: i love the idea of luke being carrie’s step-brother sm!! or him just being a brother in general, i have a feeling he’d be such a good brother...also pls keep sending in fic ideas hehe i have a great time writing em! 

Masterlist Part 2 (don’t worry, this part can be read as a stand alone but if you want to read part 2 you can)

You walked through Carrie’s house, trying to find your best friend after she invited you over for choreography practice for Dirty Candy. Your bag was over your shoulder, holding a change of clothes and a water bottle just in case you needed it. Wandering into the living room, you failed to notice the teenager sitting on the sofa, his guitar waiting idly in his hands as his gaze caught onto you.

He knew exactly who you were, you had been best friends with Carrie before his mother remarried to Carrie’s dad. You had been there all the way through and you were practically like an accessory to Carrie; he has hardly seen his step-sister without you by her side. He strummed his guitar, successfully grabbing your attention as he planned to, making you jump around to face him with your eyes wide.

“y/n,” Luke greeted, giving you a small nod as you looked at him uneasily, shifting from foot to foot. His gaze returned down to his guitar as he strummed it lightly; making your gaze make its way down to the strings on the instrument also, “Carrie’s down at the gym already, you’re late I’m pretty sure. Any of the other Dirty Candy members would have their necks cut off for being this late.”

“It’s only fifteen minutes, Luke,” You snapped as Luke looked back up at you, his eyes meeting yours.

You felt bad for snapping at Luke, obviously. You knew he probably didn’t mean anything bad about what he said but it was made clear to everyone in Dirty Candy that members of Julie and the Phantoms were the rivals and even though Carrie didn’t have the conversation with you, it didn’t mean you were an exception. She didn’t have anything against her step-brother, they actually did get along but at the same time, he was in a rival band.

So that’s why you had to act like this. Especially when you were the closest to Carrie. Imagine the other Dirty Candy members seeing Carrie’s best friend being nice to the rivals? Despite it being a known fact that you were the nicest member of Dirty Candy, you still had to stick by the band.

“It’s Carrie though,” Luke snorted, shaking his head as he put his guitar down by his side as he looked back up at you, “you should know how she is.”

“She’s clearly nothing like you think she is,” You quipped back as you crossed your arms over your chest. You felt bad for having to be mean to Luke, and you hoped that he knew that but you could never actually say that, “if you spent any time with your step-sister you’d know that.”

Luke simply put his hands up in mock defeat as he gave you a small smirk, “Alright then y/n. No need to be feisty. I won’t keep you any longer, better join the rest of your band.”

Simply nodding your head, that’s what you did.

. . .

It was later on that night you found yourself at a club. It was a little after your performance with the rest of Dirty Candy and currently, Julie and the Phantoms were on. They were good, something you would never be able to deny but they would never be able to deny that Dirty Candy was good either. Everyone knew that if the two bands somehow managed to put their differences aside and worked together, they would be unstoppable. But that never happened.

“Hey, y/n!” Someone said, putting an arm over your shoulder and a whiff of cologne hit you in the face. You looked up at them, eyes catching onto the styled hair of a member of the lacrosse team. Jack, you think.

Jack dragged you over to the rest of his teammates, who gave Jack knowing smirks. You fidgeted, feeling highly uncomfortable as some of the lacrosse team checked you out without any hesitation or embarrassment, your Dirty Candy outfit still on without the wig.

“Hey I need to get going-” You excused, trying to get away from the cocky lacrosse players as you looked over at the exit of the club, desperately wanting to be there right now. However, you were cut off by the ‘aww’s of the lacrosse team as they tried to usher you even closer to them.

“C’mon y/n, sit with us, just for a little.”

A few of the other lacrosse members backed up what the lacrosse player said, trying to persuade you to stay but only made you feel more uncomfortable, “Please guys, I really have to get going-”

These boys really were not taking no for an answer as they continued to persuade you, leaving for an arm to sneak over your shoulder and a body to slide next to yours, leaving the lacrosse guys to go quiet, “Hey babe, ready to go?”

Luke. Your eyes widened slightly as you looked at him, but only Luke seemed to notice, sending you a look to go along with it leaving you to nod your head. The lacrosse teams shared glances between them but your eyes were trained on Luke, slightly sweaty from his performance, breathing heavily but still as hot as ever.

He looked over at the main body of lacrosse players, smiling at them, “Thanks for keeping my girlfriend entertained whilst she waited. Having a good night, boys.”

With that, he steered you away from the lacrosse players but you could still hear the outbursts of confusion from behind you, “Patterson and y/l/n are dating!” “No freaking way dude! I thought they hated each other!” “Me too, man! Guess they don’t.”

Luke didn’t stop until you were both outside of the club and away from sight until he let go of you, spinning you around so you looked at him. Eyes wide, you stared up at him in awe, “Luke, I don’t- Thank you.”

“Don’t sweat it, but I guess us dating will be going around school for a while, huh?” Luke said, giving you a tight-lipped smile as he rocked on his heels.

You looked down at your shoes as you mumbled back, “Yeah probably.”

“We can’t call it off now, I guess but I have a proposition.” Luke suggested, making you look up from your feet to meet his eyes again, showing to him that you were listening, “Now before you object, I already know you’re crazy freakin’ talented at writing songs. So you help me write songs, and I’ll keep the lacrosse team off your back.”

“Luke...”

“Hey, I know we’re supposed to be ‘rivals’ or whatever but it doesn’t have to be like that,” Luke said quietly, looking at you with his big, hazel eyes, “we both benefit this way. I saw how uncomfortable you were in there, so I deal with that and you help me write songs. I’ve seen some of your songs, y/n, throwing them in the music room trashcan is not a way to hide it.”

“You went fishing in the trash for my songs?”

“Not important,” Luke replied to your question, rolling his eyes at your expression; arched eyebrows, and a slight smirk on your face before he continued, “What do you say, y/n? Deal?”

“...Deal.”

Luke gave you a wide smile, walking back towards the main street, and beckoned you to follow him, shouting out to you behind him, “Just don’t fall in love with me, y/l/n.”

You laughed lightly, him joining in as well as you ran lightly to catch up with him, “In your dreams, Patterson.”

[wannabe-fic-writer]

Natasha Romanoff x Reader : Excuses

Summary: Getting your attention requires a little creativity.

Genre: Fluff

Warning: Mild language

Word Count: 1,327

* * * * * *

Picking the clipboard up off the counter, your eyes scanning over the notes that’d been taken. Doctor Cho had asked you to come check on her most recent patient as something else came up.

A disbelievingly amused chuckle leaves your lips at the name you read across the patient signature and with a shake of your head you head toward the patient room. 

“Trying a hand at cooking again huh?” You ask in approaching.

Natasha smiles abashedly, eyes glancing down at her currently bloody hand, the source of the mess presented as the cut on her finger.“ I was just slicing vegetables and Clint fell from the goddamn ceiling.” She explains herself, still not meeting your gaze.

“May I?” You ask with a small smile as you nod to her injured hand.

She nods, her nervousness not missed by you, but you say nothing of it. This was, maybe the fourth time Natasha has been in here this month alone with a small injury. 

Doctor Cho had teasingly mentioned that your presence had an affect on the ex-assassin. Her main evidence being that Natasha rarely turned up in the med bay, for a number of reasons: one she didn’t like people seeing her “weak,” and two, her injuries were usually self manageable. 

Yet recently she’d been here almost as much as Peter, and with the way that kid messed around and trained that was saying something. Doctor Cho suggested she has a crush on you but you laughed it off. 

There’s no way the gorgeous, badass, Natasha Romanoff liked your dorky self. 

Natasha nearly melts at the gentle way you tend to her. Fingers barely brushing her skin but leaving a hot trail behind them. If you weren’t so focused on patching her up you’d surely have seen the blush on her cheeks. 

“Doc, can I ask you a question?” Her low voice hits your ears after a prolonged silence and you resist the urge to jump at it’s unexpectedness. 

Catching her eye, you chuckle,“ I’m just a nurse Miss Romanoff, but yes you can.” You then grabbing the roll of gauze. Her cut wasn’t too bad but no band aid would cover the whole thing and it needed to be cover for at least two days.

“Well for one, I’m just Natasha,” she gets the privileges of seeing your flushed cheeks and it makes her smile brighten,“ what made you accept the job here?”

You bite your lip,“ apart from Sharon’s glowing recommendation? I don’t know.” you shrug,“ I just thought, if you guys are out there saving everyone else I could be here to save you.”

Goddammit! If she wasn’t already crazy about you that sure as shit did it. That single statement sounded more heroic than the honor speeches she’d heard Steve give and that man is heroic. 

“Was that not the answer you were looking for?” You ask at her silence.

Her head shakes frantically and her lips tug up at the corners,“ it was perfect actually. I wasn’t expecting it but you’re very kind.” 

You jokingly swipe across your forehead,“ thank god. I’d been practicing it for ages.”

When Natasha laughs your stomach turns. God how you wished you could hear the sweet sound a million times over. And the smile that came with it makes your heart flutter.

“All done. Don’t leave it uncovered for too long but make sure that you do let it breathe. And as usual no scratching.” You advise.

The urge to pout at having to leave you is fought off. But of course she doesn’t let that be the last time. 

Over the next two weeks Natasha comes in and out of the mad bay. For a range of things: a headache, shoulder pains, a minor burn on her hand from experimenting again. 

Each visit she asked questions about you and your passion for the medical field. She laughed with you and smiled when she got you flustered. And each visit you saw more and more of that crush Doctor Cho was talking about. 

You’d contemplated whether or not to do something about it as you clearly like her as well. But it isn’t until today that you decide to. 

Natasha comes in again, this time with cold like symptoms, that are fake, but you don’t call her out on it. In fact it’s a little adorable how she keeps pretend sniffling and burrowing into the blanket you gave her. 

“Sadly there’s no cure to the common cold, just some symptom relief remedies. Over the counter medicine, rest, and lots of fluids. Preferably hot beverages.” A moment of hesitation passes but her soft green gaze on you pushes that away with ease.“ Maybe I could help out with that, take you to get a cup of coffee, or tea if you prefer?”

She freezes at your question. Her eyes widening before she looks down at the tiled floor. Out of all the things she expected you to say, this was the worst.

Not for her by a long shot, she’d love nothing more than to go out with you, to be with you and hold your hand and go on dates. No this was the worst decision for you. You’ve saved lives, herself included, and she’d done the exact opposite.

While you were a source of hope to some she was the bringer of death. The Black Widow. What were they known for again? Killing their spouses after so long together. Natasha knows she’d never intentionally hurt you but spending so much time with you would surely taint the pureness that you are. And Natasha couldn’t handle being the reason your light had gone dark. 

“That’s not a good idea.” She mumbles. 

The confusion that surges through your head nearly gives you a headache. She doesn’t want to go out with you? Had you read everything wrong? Are you delusional? Was her flirting and excuses to come see you all in your head?

Frowning, you step away from the redhead,“ o-okay. I’m sorry I just- I thought with all the flirting that maybe you- I’m sorry for reading into things.”

“No you didn’t read anything wrong,” with how sad and confused you look she has to assure you that you most certainly are not the problem.“ Y/n I do like you. I think you’re incredible and that’s exactly why you shouldn’t date me. I’m not the kind of person you should be with.”

Your frown deepens, if that’s possible,“ Natasha what? What kind of person do you think you are? Because I think you’re a hero. I’ve literally spent full nights watching over you and tending to your wounds because you hurt yourself trying to save people. Hell you’ve definitely saved more lives than me.”

The sigh she gives tells you that she isn’t convinced. And while you know it’s going to take more than just this single moment to truly change her opinion of herself, you had no reason to not try right now. 

“Natasha,” you step closer and take her cold soft hands in yours,“ you’re just as incredible as you claim me to be, if not more and I’d love to learn everything that makes you that way.” She looks up at your small smile.“ If not all you’re visits would’ve been a waste right.”

Her eyes widen for an entirely different reason this time. She had no idea you knew she’d been finding excuses to come see you. She was so sure that you were buying it. 

“I guess I’m losing my subtle touch huh?” 

“Just a little.” You tease back, squeezing her hand in yours.

With a deep breath in and a slow exhale, Natasha nods,“ I’d love to get coffee with you some time, as long as you let me treat.”

You narrow your eyes at her,“ deal, but, you have to promise not to keep hurting yourself. You no longer need an excuse to see me.”

“Alright, deal.”

[sunflowerryvol6]

Sweet Summer

No warnings, just pure fluff.

WC: 3.6k

Long time no see! I hope you like this! I'll try and link the songs on this page, but no promises. Leave any suggestions for stories you'd like to see! Also, do comment, and tell me what you like about these two! As always, feedback is always welcome.

Check out my masterlist

You could listen to the songs here. I listened to this while writing this.

'I know how the summer goes' softly played in the background; she was sticky with sweat. She was sprawled on the floor of their bedroom. He sat on the bed above her. She was working on an essay on summer love for her column, the deadline was fast approaching. She looked to her left, and their room overlooked the ocean. The window opened to the bedroom patio, where they would often sit and work during the summer. Today he was oiling her hair while she worked hard on her piece. He'd just wrapped up, so he offered to help ease out some stress. She laid her head on the side on his knee and looked out to the sun shining down on the beach.

Ellie could almost touch the memory of when she first realised she was in love with Harry.

4 years earlier...

They'd been dating for a few weeks now. Harry planned the first date, so she arranged the second one. She'd quickly realised that Harry loved his walks. Working as a software developer left him with little to no time to move around. So he takes any opportunity to exercise or move his body. Ellie was a freelance journalist who's spent the better part of the last two years working from home. The idea of walking around or being on her feet was too taxing because of her chronic pain. But she liked harry, didn't she. So that's what she kept telling herself. When her hips hurt a little too much, or when she pulled her back from walking around too long. It'd all be worth it in the end. It had to be.

On this particular evening, they'd decided to meet up for a gig. Harry had found this artist that was playing in a bar downtown, so they'd meet there. She walked up to him and kissed him on the lips. "Hello to you too" He smiled.

"Hey, I'm sorry, I just missed you." She smiled wide. "I missed you too." He linked their arms and walked into the bar. He asked her to go ahead, and he'd join her with drinks. She walked on and waited for the band to start playing. He found his way back to her soon enough, with their favourite beverages.

Once the gig was over, they walked out of the bar and discussed where they should go to get dinner. "So, there's this brilliant taco place just down the road. We can walk there. What'd you say?" He smiled at her.

"Oh sure, let's." Ellie knew this wasn't the best decision. She'd be in a whole lot of pain by the end of the evening. She had work tomorrow, a deadline she couldn't miss. But It had to be worth it, right?

"What'd do you want to listen to today?" She suggested. She dug into her bag to find the earphone connector and offered it to him. They'd do this a lot, listen to music together, a new genre every date, sometimes their favourite albums. The last time they were listening to Harry's 70's indie playlist. You can tell a lot about a person by the music they heard. This was quite the ice breaker during their first few dates, so they decided to make it a thing. Now they would sometimes pick certain words or phrases and listen to what came up.

"Guilty pleasures?" He asked. "I can tell you, but I'm afraid it won't make for a great romantic walk down a dark road" She smiled. "I can take it." He laughed.

So she did. They blasted an old rock playlist, with mostly Cream. "You really love Cream, huh?" He said after a bit. "More than Neutral Milk Hotel," She told straightfaced. He blinked at her for a sec and burst out laughing. "That was a terrible one. Worse than my puns, God!" He laughed.

"These tacos better be mind fucking blowing, Styles," She says. Her hips were starting to ache a little. "Yes, Ma'am. I wouldn't dare disappoint you." He smiled. Their conversation went on about things here and there. Soon they reached the taco truck, right by the side of the road. The place was packed with people. Patrons had resorted to sitting on the pavement because of the wait.

"Okay, their birria tacos are the best, but we can get something else if you'd like?" Harry asked her. "Oh, that actually sounds absolutely perfect. Do you mind if I go get us a spot while you go get the food?" Ellie asked. "Sure, you do that." He said and leaned to kiss her cheek and made his way to the truck.

Ellie walked towards the pavement and slowly sat down. The moment her bum hit the pavement softly, she knew she was in a world of pain. Only more was waiting for her the longer this night went. She quickly dug into her purse to get out her cigarettes and lit one. It set in some ease, but it wasn't enough. She needed to get home, but what'd she tell Harry? Her experience telling people about her chronic pain has always ended up in them pitying her or not entirely believing her. Now, don't be fooled. She's in pain, but she didn't want no one's pity. She just wanted someone to recognise the pain and help her find a goddamn solution to it. In contemplating her exit strategy, she didn't realise she started tearing up. She quickly stubbed her cigarette and switched on some music to distract her. She waited patiently till Harry arrived with the food.

Harry walked over to Ellie with their food in his hand. Only to find her doubled over with her head on her knees. He rushed to her, placed their food on the pavement, and nudged her shoulder. "Ellie, are you okay?" He asked her gently. Ellie looked up, and she looked like she was in a lot of pain. "Hey! What's wrong? Why are you crying?" He seemed very concerned now. "I'm in a lot of pain right now, and it flares up when I'm on my feet for too long. I'd been out all day before we met, and I wasn't expecting us to walk around so much." She all but cried. "Oh, you poor thing. I'll call a cab right now, and I'll take you home, okay?" Harry said, his hand gently rubbed her arm. She sniffled in response.

The cab arrived soon enough. Harry helped her into the car and got in after her. "Would you like to try and sleep till we get there? I can keep an eye on the map." He offered. "Thank you." She said before leaning her head against the window and closed her eyes.

"Ellie, darling. We're here." His voice broke her out of the soft slumber she'd fallen into. She opened her eyes and looked out, and sure enough, they were outside her apartment building. She got out of the cab and started walking towards her door, expecting him to follow her. Still, she turns around to check, and he's about to call out to her. "Are you not going to come upstairs?" She questioned. "I need to make one more stop. I'll be up in 10." He shrugged. "Okay, don't be too long." She says and continues walking.

Harry takes the cab to the nearest store and buys a pack of Epsom salt. His sister would always soak her feet in Epsom salt and hot water after ballet lessons. So he knew this would bring Ellie some relief.

Whenever they'd had a sleepover, they always end up at Harry's place, so he'd never really been here to her home. Her door was a dark pink, kind of Fuschia. He turned the knob, and it was open, so he walked in. The place was filled with little trinkets and plants and other knick-knacks all over the place. The centre of attention had to be her bright yellow couch. All her furniture was pointed at this showcase filled with other ceramic figurines. It was very colourful. If you look at Ellie, you wouldn't expect her to live here. Her style is muted and minimalistic, apart from her hair. That was always a bright colour. This time it was bright pink, very close to the colour of her door. He wondered if she changed the colour of her door as often as she changed her hair. But otherwise, she wore blacks mainly with an occasional cream and some other muted colours. So why the eccentricity in her décor, he wondered. He didn't ask her, though.

"So I think a hot bath would really help you, I got some Epsom salt, and you know, we could try it?" He asked her hesitantly. "A long bath can help ease your pain," he said. "Yeah, I'd like that," she said. "You wait here; I'll set it up." He ventured into her flat. She took off her jacket, walked into her kitchen and took out a joint. Holding the joint in between her fingers, she looked for the lighter and slowly lit it. Walked back to the couch, took off her pants and sweater she was wearing and laid back on the sofa and took a long drag. She knew now she could relax, and the pain would slowly ease up.

Meanwhile, in her bathroom, Harry was running a bath for her. He sat on the edge of the tub with his hand underwater to check the water temperature. Once it was hot enough, Harry walked back to the living room. He walked in on her, smoking the joint, for the first time that evening, he saw her so relaxed and quiet. He didn't want to disturb her. But she opened her eyes, "Hey you" she smiled. He reached for her. "The bath is ready. Come on," He said. She took his hand and got up. She stood on her tippy toes and kissed him, and he kissed her back, slowly supporting his palm on her lower back. He deepened the kiss, she put her arms around his neck. He smiled into the kiss and pulled away.

"I really like you, you know?" He held her in place with his arm around him and looked at her. His gaze bore into her. "I'm here for you, so you have to tell me how I can help you," He said. That's when Ellie looked away. She started walking towards the bathroom and looked over her shoulder. "Come sit with me?" She asked. "Of course." He said. "Can you bring me the ice pack from the freezer, please?" She called out. He turned around and walked into the kitchen and opened the fridge to get the ice pack. He checked the time on his phone and walked back into her bathroom.

Ellie was already in the bathtub, and there was music playing softly while she smoked. He sat on the toilet and passed her the ice pack. "Here you go," He said. In return, she handed him the joint. He gave her a small smile and took it from her. He took a long drag and leaned back on the seat to stretch his legs a bit. She had these tiny pots of creepers wound up on different pipes all over her bathroom. She held the icepack to her face and felt so much relief.

"Elle, are you feeling any better?" He asked her. She nodded. Did the day go just like you wanted? played softly as she hummed along to it. "I know you want me to tell you what's going on, but I'm afraid you'll think I'm crazy," She said, not looking at him. "Darling, try me. I'm here to listen," He offered. He was still nursing the joint, looking like some kind of greek god. Just casually sitting on her toilet and observing her so carefully, she felt safe. Ellie's pain had calmed down a bit. The hot bath was helping quite a bit.

"Okay, so here goes, I took a fall about three years ago, and it kind of fucked my knee up. So I couldn't exercise much, and I wasn't moving around much. After a few months, I tried to do a simple workout, just to get back into the routine, but I was in an excruciating amount of pain." She looked up at him and saw that he'd moved to sit on the floor closer to her. When she looked up, he reached for her hand with a smile and held it. His rings felt cold on her hands as he slowly pressed the points on her fingers. It felt perfect. So she focused on that and continued. "After that, I went to a doctor to figure why it happened, but they couldn't understand because there weren't markers on the tests they did. Over the years, I went to all kinds of practitioners to help me find a solution to this pain, if not an answer to what it is. But they just kept saying it's in my head and not really give me an answer. I went to a psychiatrist, and they tried medication for depression. It only made me very drowsy and inefficient at work. But other than that, I don't really know what it is. I'm just hurting all the time." She sighed.

"Ellie, that is not okay. You shouldn't be in this amount of pain. I'm so glad you told me about it." He said. Harry reached for a stray strand on her face and pushed it back, and ran his thumb along her cheek. "Over time, I have stopped talking to people about this, 'cause it's not going change anything, and they just end up pitying me. So I did the next best thing, I bought this flat and made my home chronic pain friendly. I work from home, so I don't exert myself and have done that for over 2 years now. It's awfully lonely, though."

"I can't imagine how that must feel. For the record, I don't pity you. I just wish you'd told me before, then I wouldn't make our dates so hard on you. But wait. Did I cause you a lot of pain when we had sex?" He worried his lip and looked at her. "Oh no! You didn't at all. I just didn't want you to think I'm somehow weak and can't take care of myself. Today was a lot, and I'd been out for a couple of meetings for some upcoming projects, and it just all ended up weighing me down." She was tearing up now. "Darling, please don't cry. I don't think you can't take care of yourself. I think it was incredibly responsible of you to tell me when you reached your limit. I'm happy to accommodate whatever you need." He said to her. She could tell he was earnest. "Thank you, Harry. It feels good to be able to tell someone and have them believe me." She said to him.

They had been listening to Sea Change by Beck while they smoked together. He sat on the floor of her bathroom, with his legs stretched out and his hand in the water, holding one of her ankles. Just as a reassurance that he wasn't leaving. They talked mindlessly. He asked her about her ceramic figurines, and she told him that her grandma used to collect them, then her mom, and now she does. She brought them with her when she moved to this city. Her favourite one was the teal coloured soapstone hippo. She used to have heart-shaped soapstone, but she gave it to an ex who threw it away after they broke up. Just like that, he told her about the first time he fell in love. How he likes to keep in touch with his exes because they all ended mutually and were lovely people. She told him about her first break-up. They exchanged sibling horror stories. He told her about his niece Willow, whom he lovingly calls Willy. She hadn't realised until then, as they listened to the saddest break-up albums of all time, that Harry was in it for the long haul. "Think you're ready to move to the bed?" He asked as he rubbed his eyes. She slowly got up, and he stood up to help her out of the bath. Pulled up a towel for her and handed it to her. She walked over to her drawer and pulled out a pair of pyjamas for herself. He undressed into his boxers and placed his clothes on the wing chair next to her windowsill. She got into bed and opened the covers up for him. Her room was decorated the same, but fewer breakable items were in there. She had a few pictures of her family upon her wall, and a dog that he assumed was her childhood pet. He climbed in. "Small spoon?" He asked her; she answered by wrapping his around her and laid her head on his chest. He slowly ran his fingers through her hair, and she sighed in contentment. "You know, when I first realised that they weren't gonna be able to find what's wrong with me, I'd listen to 'If you're feeling sinister a lot. It was kind of a constant at the time." she said.

"When Stuart Murdoch wrote the album, he was diagnosed with chronic fatigue syndrome, so he was on bed rest for a long time. He used to look out of his window and see all these people living their lives, and he'd feel so left out? So he poured all that yearning into it. One of the songs even has an overlay of children playing in the background. That album got me through some dark times." Harry was running a finger along her arm, raising goosebumps on her warm skin. Harry places a kiss on her hair, "You know when, Willow, was a little girl. I'd play this game with her during bedtime. It would really tire her out and change her mind from being upset for having to go to bed. Do you want to try it?" He says. "Sure, why not?" She smiles and places a kiss on his tattooed chest.

"Close your eyes. No peeking, okay?" He looks over to check a pokes a finger in her side to make sure, and she bursts out in giggles. "Okay! I promise." She laughs out. He holds her closer and takes a deep breath, her hair smells of berries and residual smoke, and he decides then that's his favourite smell. "We're on a hill. It's cold out. Both of us huddled under a blanket, looking at the sky. It's just us there, so it's very quiet. You can hear the birds around and the slight wind. When it touches you, you dig yourself closer to me, and I hold you a little tighter, just like I am right now." She listens carefully, picturing precisely what it would look like. She wonders if they have any pets with them, "Can we have a dog?" She asks, "Of course, whatever you'd like, pet." He says. "Okay, so we have a dog, a dalmatian puppy. What do you think her name should be?" She asks him. "You want a girl, huh?" He smirked at her. "Uh yeah, they're best, of course." She said as a matter of factly. "Um, what do you think of birdie?" "I love it." she smiles. "Birdie is running circles around our blanket. She's completely enchanted by butterflies and jumping up and down to get to them. She smells like lavender shampoo and puppy smell. She has a small spot on her nose that's shaped like a heart. That's what made you pick her at the pound. She's wearing a baby pink collar with a gold medallion which has her name engraved on it. She just saw us watching her, so now rushing to cuddle. She comes running to us and lands herself right in between, and we take her inside the blanket and settle in for a good ol' nap." Listening to him describe in such detail a life that he envisions for the two of them makes her feel so full of love.

"I feel so full and happy. A little hazy with that feeling, so much so that I can't remember what I was upset about." She smiles into his chest. "I told you, it'll help. It's tried and tested, ma'am." He says, ruffling her hair a bit. "Thank you so much, Harry. Thank you for staying and taking care of me and making sure I was okay. Thank you for listening to me and not judging me and just being here." She tears up a little.

"Hey, no tears." He says, wiping a stray tear that escaped. "And, you don't have to thank me at all. I just want you to be honest with me, so I can be there for you. You don't need to carry this all on your own. If you allow me, I'd like to ease the burden a little bit." He says as he runs his thumb along her cheek.

Now...

The loud barking from the other room jolts her out of her daydream. She looks up to see the reason behind the sound. Birdie comes running towards their bed with her toy, all prepared to jump up, but Harry stops her. "Birdie, no! Don't jump on Mummy!" "It's okay, Harry." Ellie reaches for Birdie. "You spoil her so much, she'd never going to learn." "Oh come on, sweets, it's our vacation. You have to let her get away with some things."

He sits up, and Birdie immediately places herself on his lap and whines for him to scratch her. He happily obliges. "Now, my darling wife, come here and give me a kiss before I take our baby out for a wee." You smile and lean up for a kiss. He kisses your nose once before getting out of bed and walking over to wear a pair of shorts. He turns around to Ellie, and says "Are you feeling up to a picnic?"

She smiles and hits save on the document she was typing. "Yes, I'll get the snacks ready. Give me five minutes." She places the laptop on the bed and walks over to him. She reaches on her tippy toes and grabs him by the neck, and gives him one big kiss.

[bts-hyperfixation]

Noona - kinktober - day 17

Jungkook Noona kink + overstimulation

The minute Jungkook walks into the room you go quiet. You and Joon had been sat on barstools at the kitchen island talking about the disappointing sex you’d had on your date the night before. If any of the other boys had walked into the room you probably would have continued the conversation. Probably would have dragged them into it with you. Not Jungkook though, never Jungkook. In your head, he was your innocent little bunny, despite only having a small age gap. It didn’t matter, part of you still saw him as the maknae from 2013.

Nothing annoyed Jungkook more.

What had started as a small crush, had slowly manifested into a slow obsession within Jungkook. It wasn’t so bad that he was stalking you or anything awful. He just made a point of sitting next to you at every opportunity, laying on you when drunk, holding your hand when walking somewhere. You just found it endearing, he was your little puppy. It was cute. You never really thought that much about it, so the thought had never crossed your mind. The band had certainly noticed. Which is why, as you quieted, Joon thought it’d be funnier to amp up the volume

“So he was really shit in bed huh?” he questioned, just loud enough to prick JK’s ears. You hit him playfully, warning him to shut up. “It sounds like you just need someone to get you well and truly off Y/N” he shoots a meaningful look at his friend prompting you to hit him again.

“Don’t talk like that with Kookie in the room” you scold as you pull the younger man close to you, covering his ears.

“Noona” he whines “I’m not a child” you giggle as his pout suggests otherwise. He removes your hands from his ears and places them in your lap before hugging you from behind making sure your arms were secure so you couldn’t handicap him again.

“Yeah Y/N he is all grown up now, look at him, the boy is a tank these days” Namjoon jokes. It's true, puberty has been kind to the boy, filling him out well. It’s just not something you’d paid attention to. You feel JK flex around you as if to make a point and you giggle.

“Namjoon-ah!” A shout comes from somewhere else in the dorm “Jimin stole my dumplings!” Jin’s voice echo’s through the halls

“Did not!” Jimin shouts in reply. Namjoon shakes his head but gets up to check on them anyway. He pats your leg and winks at Jungkook before leaving the kitchen. Jungkook takes the opportunity and moves into the newly vacated seat at the breakfast bar.

“You can talk to me about that sort of stuff too you know?” he places his hand meaningfully on your leg before his eyes lock with yours. Namjoon’s right, he really has grown into himself in the last few years. You blink a few times to clear your head and push his hand away.

“Oh Kookie you know that I can’t” you try to laugh it off but his serious expression doesn’t change.

“Why not?” the question drips with sincerity. Yeah, why not? It’s not something you ever thought to analyse, it has just always been that way to you. While you are thinking of the best way to answer his hand sneaks back onto your leg, this time venturing up your thigh. The fact that he is refusing to break eye contact has doubt creeping into your mind.

“I...I don’t know, you’re just my baby Kookie that’s all I’ve ever thought about it” your answer is disappointing but he takes comfort in the fact that this time you haven’t moved his hand away.

“Well, maybe it’s time you did think about it Noona” he stands and positions himself between your legs, his spare hand finding its way to your cheek forcing you to return his gaze. His stare is intense, and you lose your train of thought. You’d never noticed how deep his eyes were. Before you can really make sense of what’s happening his lips are on yours. Soft but desperate.

“Jungkook… we shouldn’t” the kiss has left you a little breathless, but you try to keep your head straight. This was your bunny, your innocent Kookie. So why all of a sudden was the idea of his lips all over you sounding like such a good idea?

“Please… let me prove myself. Let me show you I’m all grown up now” he nuzzles into your neck, pressing small kisses into the sensitive flesh. You half-heartedly push at him, trying to regain your composure. He stands his ground, moving to nibble at your earlobe.

“I could make you feel amazing Y/N, I could have you cumming for days. I’ll make your legs shake if you just let me” the low growl that leaves his mouth shocks you enough for you to pull away. You stare at him in disbelief. He had never spoken like that in front of you. The other boys had been telling you for months that he was the filthiest of all of them, but you wouldn’t believe them. Every time they went into grotesque detail about one of their latest conquests, you’d scold them and tell them to be more like Jungkook, take the 'kiss and not tell' approach. Of course, they’d laugh and try to convince you otherwise.

“Come on Y/N what have you got to lose? Let me do this for you… let me feel your release drip down my fingers, let me taste every inch of you, let me drive you crazy.” You could feel your panties sticking to your core at this point, the boy was relentless you’d give him that. You stand and walk away from him. His face falls. He is about to admit defeat before he sees where you're actually headed… his bedroom.

“Maybe it’s time I see you for the man you’ve become,” you say, slipping into his room. He is on you so fast you’ve barely had time to take in his room. It’s a lot cleaner than you thought it’d be. The odd comic or item of clothing is strewn on the floor, but the bed is made. Well, it was made until he had thrown you onto it moments ago. Jungkook was straddled over you, pining you as he kissed you with more passion than you thought possible. He must’ve thrown his shirt off as he walked through the door as you find your hands running along his naked skin. He shivers under your touch. He manages to find enough restraint to drag himself away from your lips long enough to help you take your shirt off. He takes the opportunity to lick a stripe from your belly button to your bra before removing that too. He returns to kissing you like you are his only source of oxygen, one hand on the back of your neck, the other playing with the sensitive skin of your right nipple.

“Can… I… move down?” He asks in between small pecks along your chin. You nod and he wastes no time undoing your shorts, pulling them and your panties down in one fluid movement. You close your legs, suddenly very aware of who is between your legs. He chuckles at your suddenly shy demeanour and pries your thighs apart, filling the new gap with his head. He tentatively licks up your slit. His eyes go wide as if has only just realised what he is doing. You are about to ask him he wants to stop when he starts lapping at your folds like a man starved.

The knot in your stomach builds much quicker than you anticipated as the eager boy sucks on your clit. He slips a finger into your dripping pussy and curls it with such precision that he hits your sweet spot instantly. Your moans only spur him on as they get needier. The minute he adds a second finger it's over. Your walls clench and he drags his fingers out, only to replace them with his tongue trying to catch every drop. You expect him to stop here, move onto his own pleasure or stop entirely, he proved his point. It was one of the best orgasms you’d had in a while. As soon as you come down, his movements resume. This time his fingers are rubbing at your clit furiously while his tongue fucks into you.

“Kookiiie” you whine feeling a little too sensitive. You’re not really sure what your whining for... for him to stop? Or for him to go faster? He takes the latter option moving his fingers to join his tongue leaving his thumb to take care of your bundle of nerves. You wriggle as the feeling teeters between pleasure and pain. The hand he’d been using to hold up your thigh moves to keep your stomach pressed down, forcing you to endure this sweet torture.

“Noona” his voice sends vibrations through your core, only adding to the sensation “can you come for me again?” the dark tone in his voice has you so close to unravelling, just waiting to dive off the cliff. “Come on Noona, show me what you’ve got left” this orgasm hits just as hard as the last. Your legs shake, body completely unprepared for the newest wave of arousal that JK once again licks at happily. His head comes back up so it's level with yours, but his hand keeps playing with your clit. Your whines are breathy and small from the overstimulation. He watches you, loving the way he makes your face contort just using his hand.

“Ah... Kook...” the sound of his name tumbling for your lips makes his already painfully hard dick twitch in his pants. You're desperate to reach out and help him but his spare hand pushes you away whenever you try. His ministrations on the small bundle of nerves had your orgasm building again sooner than you would’ve liked. Your body hadn’t recovered from the other two. This one would leave you just a quivering puddle. You start to protest as the knot tightens but he covers your mouth with his, letting you taste yourself on him. Preventing you from stopping the overstimulation. You lose yourself in his embrace and let yourself come undone again. After this one, he finally gives you some relief bringing his hand away and licking the remaining juices off. He unbuttons his pants and kicks them away. He moves so he is hovering over you, lined up at the right angle to enter you. His long hair falls in his eyes as he looks at you for approval to continue. You nod in approval and he pushes himself all the way in before giving you a couple of seconds to adjust.

His thrusts are as brutal as his fingers had been. You feel so full that you think he could split you at any minute. You don’t stop him though. The stretch felt amazing. It doesn’t last too long before he pulls out, finishing on your stomach. He finds a towel somewhere in the room and wipes his sperm away. You’re still shaking when he sits back on the bed. He chuckles and pulls you into his lap holding you close.

“Are you okay Noona?” he asks a little worried he might’ve gone too far. You nod sleepily and curl further into him.

“Never been better” he can’t help smiling with pride at your words.

Kinktober

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[argumentl]

The Freedom of Expression Ep 58 - [NSFW] The truth behind the DIR EN GERY misprint, and a mysterious voice...

K: Hi, this is Dir en grey's Kaoru, with this week's episode of the Freedom of Expression. Joe, Tasai, welcome...Um..

T: Ah!

J: What is it?

T: No way!

K: Its 'Young Jump'

J: Ah, Young Jump.

K: I think you already know about this, but we put an ad on it like this *shows back page*.

J: Oh, looks great!

T: Yeah, it does. Very impactful.

K: Its good, isn't it?

T: Yeah, great impact.

K: There's something a bit odd about it.

J: Haha

T: Huh? Where?

J: Eh? Something odd?

K: Yeah, its a bit strange. There's a bit of a mistake.

J: Is the kanji for Oboro correct?

K: Yeh, and this is right, about the release on the 28th of April.

J: And Wenesday is correct, right?

K: Yeah, and the explosion screening schedule is ok.

T: Yeah, it is.

K: The ticket price info is also all fine.

J: Yep.

K: After that there's only this bottom section.

J:Yeah.

T: DIR EN...

T, J: GERY, haha.

J: Has a new band formed?

K: We screwed up.

J, T: Hahaha

K: Its hard to believe, right?

J: Incredible. I did not expect this..Dir en gery.

T: I thought it was like a trick or something.

J: Oh, to make it go viral or..?

T: Yeah, going with Dir en gery.

J: Kaoru, what was it?

T: We'll find out about it here.

K: It was a total mistake.

J, T: Hahaha

J: Seriously? Eh? Really?

K: Yeah.

T: Does that mean it was done on a hurry, if its a seroius mistake?

K: Yeah, I guess so.

J: Well, Tasai, you work for a newspaper, and I also work for Rolling Stone, so we understand this, but our work is handed in for checking, you know, proof-reading. And they do spot mistakes, but honestly, I have never seen mistake of this size before.

T: Yeh. This is at the level of 'accident'. However, there is a case for saying that we cannot attack this. What I mean by that is that we too make mistakes.

J: Yes, thats true. There is that. Well, this goes for magazines etc too, but if you do proof-reading within the organization, for example, if the writer writes an article, the editor will proof-read it, and they may intend to, but if everyone is really busy with loads of other work, they will run out of time. Then they will get it checked by an external proof-reader. Even then there are sometimes still typos left over.

T: Yeah, there are.

J: There are, right? Human error happens.

T: Yeah, like if I misspell a name or something, I can correct it on the digital version, but on paper it appears on every copy out there.

J: Yeah..

K: But like this?!

J: Yeah, we say this, but we've never seen a typo this bad. Like, I've mistaken small details in names and stuff before.

K: Yeah, like Young Jump becoming Young JumP, right?

J, T: Yeh, haha.

K: Not like this! *points to 'GERY'*

J: Haha, this is...

*Sound of strange voice occurs in background - On screen text: 'What was that voice?! One more time.. (Clip of strange voice re-plays) No-one during the filming heard this. Its a mystery voice'*

J: Tell us what happened?

T: Yeah, lets ask.

K: Um, we had the design made, and the designer made the regular logo and put it down here in this fixed spot, so it looked as if the logo was done, even though there was a mistake in it. At the time, I wasn't looking at the band name, I was looking at the overall design, and ths impact it had. Like this image of Kyo from RokumaykanGIG. My eyes were drawn to the best parts of the design. It wasn't really designed to emphasize the band name. Its designed to showcase this top part, so I, like, didn't see it. Die didn't even see it, and he normally checks these really carefully. Even if we miss something, he normally spots it straight away. 

J: Ah, even Die didn't notice it! ???*1

K: Yeah. We were too busy checking that there were no mistakes in the tour schedule.

J: Yeah.

K: But the information is all correct, so if its just the band name with a mistake, well, maybe its ok.

T: This could become a really rare item in time to come.

J: Yeah, cause there isn't gonna be a misspelling with Dir en grey again after this. That point will be strengthened.

K: Not for a while yeah. A long time ago, we had a single out called 'Filth', and there was a mistake in the title of the song on the cover jacket.

T: Eh? So this is the second time this has happened to you?

K: Well...yeh.

T: Hahaha

K: Well, we occasionally make small mistakes *2, but...

T: This is big.

J: Can I suggest something? Good things come in threes.

K: Ah, terrible.

J: So there will be a third time to come, imagine it, it could be both the title and the band name with a mistake.

T: Hahaha

K: Well, what can I do about it now? If you buy the single 'Filth' even now, its still like that. So filth is spelled f-i-l-h..huh? h-f...um, it's..

T: ..t-h

K: f-i-l-t-h, but the i became f, I mean h. So because there were two h's I realised the mistake. If there really is only one h, it could be that they just made the letters look in that style, but they look the same to me.

T: Ehh? I want to line Filth up next to this magazine.

J: Yeah

J, K: Hahaha

T: Don't you have it here? Filth?

K: We do.

T: Lets put them out together!

K: When I saw this (*Young Jump*) though, well, I thought it was quite rare*3, it could become a talking point. If you take a bad thing in a smooth way, someone will notice, so I thought we could just go with it.

J: Brilliant!

K: And then I posted on Twitter, like 'Ooops'. And that was a photo of the actual magazine, so it really was like 'ooops'.

T: As soon as I saw your Tweet, I was like 'Huh?!' and I went to the convenience store and bought it. haha

J: Well, in that sense it is a rare item

T: Can we decide on the correct reading for this? How would you say it?

K: Ge-ri?

J: Dir en gery (ge-ri).

K: jeri? geri?

J: geri? jeri?

T: gari?

J: Its geri, right? Well, jeri is like..

K: In the basic form its geri, right?

J: Yeah. jeri might have to be 'Gerry' with two r's.  Which is best Dir en jeri or Dir en geri?

T: Should we decide? Even though it doesn't really matter.

J: Yeah

J: Dir en geri sounds like a struggling country rock artist or something, haha. Dir en jeri has jellyfish vibes.

T: The official name: Dir en Gery (jeri). haha.

J: I want you guys to do a joke live show as Dir en gery. You could switch parts, like Kaoru, you could be on drums.

K: Ah, but we did kinda do that once, we changed parts on stage. I just made a load of noise.

J: Ahh, so you could do that as Dir en gery somewhere officially and play one song.

T: Ahh, thats a good idea.

J: Do a cover or something.

T: You could do ???*4

K: Er, no. haha.

J: Haha, this will getting bigger and bigger.

T: But I heard recently at the MeguroRokumaykanGIG screening, Kyo said  that Toshiya used to play guitar a long time ago.

K: He was playing guitar the first time we saw him playing in a band...well, I don't know if he was playing it, or just waving it around a lot.

T: Yeah, Kyo said the stage was going wild.

K: Yeah, he wasn't playing.

J: So, when you guys switched instruments on stage, what did you do Kaoru?

K: Drums.

J: Oh, drums?

K: Thats the one I wanna try out the most.

J: So if you guys played as Dir en gery, Kaoru, you would be..?

T: Drums?

K:...Nah....*imitates playing the castanets*

J: Tambourine? Oh, castanets? So, it doesn't necessarily have to be the same instruments you play at the moment?

K: Yeah. As long as we play as a proper band.

J: Yeah, so Kyo could play the recorder..

T: Someone could hit the ???*5

J: Yeah, yeah. Oh, that would be good.

*The single Filth gets passed over*

K: I'll just get it out.

*K shows cover jacket to J*

J: Oh, here, right?

K: Can you see, there are two h's.

J: Yes. I see.

*K shows it to T*

J: The first h is a typo?

K: Yeah.

T: Its a bit difficult to spot though.

K: We didn't even notice, we thought it was just the design.

J: Yeah. Put them together now.

*K puts magazine and CD together*

J, T: Hahaha

K: By the way, it was the same person who designed both of these.

J, T: Haha

K: When he saw it he was so pained.

T: Its ok, ???*6

J: Ahh, well, it can't be helped though.

*On screen note: Again? (weird voice appears)*

J: Even if there is a spelling mistake, its conveying the atmosphere that is the main thing.

K: Yeah, thats the emphasis.

J: But on the other hand, you could say that as soon as 'Dir' appears, people recognise it as Dir en grey, even with this kind of misspelling. The name is that well know.

T: Hmm, yeh

K: Hm, well, yeh, if you look at it up to here. But for us, its impossible.

J: Well, I guess yeah. It goes for Rolling Stones too. For example, if the last n in Rolling Stones became an m, you wouldn't immediately spot it. If it came up all of a sudden, you would just think 'Ah, the Stones'. It's that kind of name recognition. You could see it in that way. But I didn't know it was the same designer who did it both times.

K: Our boss was pretty mad about it.

J, T: Hahaha

J: Really? I see.

K: He couldn't believe it.

J: Well, yeah. Its also the most important part.

T: Well, yeah, and cause its already in circulation.

J: Yeah. Well, everyone can keep it as a treasure.

K: Where's Kami?

J: Yeah, isn't he here?

Kami: Oh, Im here, I was just listening the whole time. People make mistakes, right?

T: They do.

Kami: This is just a mistake. So its wrong to point blame.

T, J: Yes.

J: Kami, have you made a mistake recently or something?

Kami: Im always making mistakes, and always getting into trouble.

J, T: Haha

Kami: As soon as you've made a mistake, it hurts, right?

T: Yeah, I know that feeling.

Kami: Yeah.

J: Yeah, the person who made the mistake knows it, you don't have to tell them.

T: Yeah, that hurts the most.

Kami: I bet if you made a mistake like this though, you'd get into big trouble.

T, K: Haha

Kami: I think you really would.

T: Well, heh, yeah. But if even Die overlooked this..its like a demon interferred..

J: Yeah, unbelievable.

K: But, anyway, Im taking it in a good way. Well, I mean, it's not good to take just any old thing in a positive way, but....its a bit like those remarks by Mori that we discussed recently.

J: Oh yeah.

K: Like how to move on with it.

J: Yeah, we can learn from that.

K: Yeah.

*Sound cuts out. On screen note: Suddenly, we were unable to record to voices. Was it linked to that sound we heard earlier?*

K: Um, the sound..

J: It seems as if the sound went off.

T: I wonder whether its to do with what we just talked about?

K: What, like, 'Stop this conversation?'

J: Haha, like from ths designer's perspective...'Please stop it!'

T: Haha, yeah, 'Please!'

J: So, what about the Oboro single?

K: So, we're at the last stage, just the mastering, and a little more discussion, and we're about finished. And then the packaging. Well, there's just a little bit longer till the 28th, about another month.

J: Well, Im looking forward to it.

K: Ok, lets finish here for this week. Thank you.

*On screen note: The voice that no-one, including the staff, heard during recording was recorded into the mic data.*

*1,4,5,6 Couldn't catch

*2, 3 Not entirely sure

To top

[dream-a-little-bigger-x]

End Up Here | Owen Patrick Joyner

Requested:  Yes/No

hi!! could you please write a fic where the reader is an actor on jatp and the cast have a sleepover and some of them decide to play seven minutes in heaven, and the reader ends up in the closet with owen who they have a massive crush on and they end up making out in the closet? love your writing!!

A/N: Special thanks to @calamitykaty and @vrthngiwnt for letting me bounce some ideas off them and giving me some of their creativity. Love you both! 

Pairing: Owen Patrick Joyner x Reader

Song(s) used: Into The Unknown - Frozen II / Drag Me Down - One Direction 

Warnings: It’s just light and fluffy. 

Words: 6,411

How in the holy hell did she end up here? Here. In Savannah’s closet, kissing one of her best friends whom she’d had a crush on for weeks now. Kissing Owen Joyner. It was only this morning they were still bullying each other playfully during dance training. It was only a month ago the two had met. 

A month ago she got the call from her agent that she got the gig. She was going to be in a Kenny Ortega production. A freaking Kenny Ortega production. After being a fan of his work since she was literally a child, she finally got the honor to work with him on a project. Albeit as more of an extra, but still. 

A member of popular girl Carrie Wilson’s band. Dirty Candy singer #3. Member of Dirty Candy. No matter how she put it, it still all seemed so surreal. 

The first day of bootcamp, y/n was extremely nervous. This was her first ever project and she wanted to do it right. This was something so close to her heart as she, herself, had lost her mom and lost the love to dance and sing for a while too until she found the strength again through friends and family. 

Besides, getting to play a mean girl did seem a lot of fun. 

“Oh, hey,” a girl greeted. She had long blonde hair that cascaded into curls down her neck and shoulders, and big brown bambi eyes twinkling at her. “I’m Savannah. You’re a Dirty Candy member?” she introduced herself and asked you, in one go. 

“Uh, yeah! I’m member number three,” she chuckled awkwardly before reaching out her hand towards her. “I’m y/n,” she said with a smile that reached her ears. Savannah looked at her hand and then grabbed it, and pulled her in for a hug. 

A surprised shriek arose from member number three before she wrapped her arms around the 5 foot something specimen that clung to her for a while. 

“I can’t wait to get started!” Savannah clapped her hands excitedly when she had pulled away from the hug. 

As time went by, a lot more people filed into the room. Some of them y/n recognized, like Jeremy Shada, but also some of the fellow dancers seemed very familiar. Probably from dance classes back in High School or College, she thought. 

“Okay, let’s get this started!” A man of medium-build with a baseball cap on his head and a smile on his face clapped his hands, and rubbed them together as if planning some sort of scheme. “I’m Paul Becker, I’m the choreographer and along with Tori and Louise, my assistants, I’ll be getting you prepped for all dance rehearsals.” He pointed at the two girls on the first row. One of which y/n knew from college, Tori. A petite brown girl who was so sweet and kind, and a masterpiece of motion. Y/N remembered how she always outshone everyone in class. 

Kenny Ortega stood next to Paul, smiling at the group of talent he’d accumulated, and said, “We’re just gonna start with some icebreaker games today to get to know each other better and then really get to work.” Y/N glanced around the room to check if she was the only one that seemed nervous. Halfway through the room, she made eye contact with a tall blonde boy with what she thought was the most adorable smile ever. She shot him a smile back before focusing on Kenny again. “I’m assuming not everyone knows each other’s names yet, so I suggest we start with the name game?” he looked at Paul, who gave a nod of assent. 

“Let’s all sit down in a big circle,” Paul said, rotating his finger to indicate the circle. Savannah, standing closest to Y/N, grabbed the girl’s hand and brought her closer to the rest of the group before they both sat down, along with the others. 

“The premise is to remember everyone else’s name,” Kenny began, “So, for example. I’ll start and say Kenny, then Paul, who’s sitting next to me goes ‘Kenny, Paul’, then Tori has to go ‘Kenny, Paul, Tori,’ and so on and so forth. Got it?” All participants nodded their heads. 

A groan is heard from the other side of the circle, “I’m gonna have to remember so many names!” The blonde guy with the cute smile from earlier whined. The group burst out laughing at his annoyance. 

“Well, let’s hope you remember the names better than the lyrics to your audition song, huh, Owen?” Kenny retorted teasingly, sending the rest of the group into another fit of laughter as the blonde boy glared at the director. 

Y/N made a mental note to remember his name. Owen. When she looked at him at that moment, she recognized him from somewhere, but couldn’t put her finger on where or how. 

“Okay, so, I’ll start,” Kenny said and repeated his name. 

“Kenny, Paul,” Paul said, then looked at the girl next to him. 

“Kenny, Paul, Tori.” Everyone then averted their eyes to the blonde girl sitting next to Tori. 

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise.” Everyone’s eyes then went to the girl sitting on y/n’s right, who she’d met before. 

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah.” 

Her heart beated faster as everyone’s eyes were focused on her as she repeated the names, “Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah, y/n.” 

She looked around the circle with a smile as the girl next to her continued. Her eyes stopped at Owen, who was looking at her too with a tender smile on his face. Instead of simply shooting a smile back, she mimed “Pay attention”. His shoulders jolted from the soft chuckle that came through before he focused on the next person. 

The game went on for a while until it reached Owen. Y/N could tell from the look in his eyes that he was struggling to remember them all. There were a lot of names to remember, that’s true, but y/n thought it was pretty simple to remember. 

“Kenny, Paul, Tori, Louise, Savannah, y/n,” he halted his gaze on her for a split second before continuing, “Sacha, Jadah, uhm…” His eyes flicked back to y/n, begging for help. She started mouthing the names along, and even though he couldn’t really lipread, the help was welcome. “Kyra, Halle, Jeremy, Madison, Owen.” 

Of course, he knew the last two people before him, but Kyra and Halle seemed difficult names for him to remember.

“That wasn’t so hard, now, was it?” the boy next to him slapped him on the shoulder as the group burst out into laughter. Owen, however, couldn’t help but smile as he looked at y/n. 

“Yeah, it wasn’t that bad,” he mumbled and shot her a thankful wink. 

Charlie then ended the circle, and though Kenny wanted to go around the circle once more, the contradictory moans and complaints made him finish the game and tell everyone to get up off the floor. Paul grabbed a rope from the ground near the wall-covering mirror and handed one end to Kenny. The latter looked around the room for a second before calling out y/n’s name, beckoning her to come over. Confused and a little embarrassed, she walked over to the director. 

“You’re about the average height of everyone here, so we need your waist,” he told her, chuckling. The soft caress of his hand on her shoulder made her calm down a little as he guided her to the middle of the room. Paul and Kenny then secured the rope at the height of her waist. One side on the barre, the other on a hook in the wall. “I’m gonna split you into two groups and make it a competition,” he then said and looked around the room to see who could make a great team. 

“Let’s do Dirty Candy against Julie and The Phantoms?” Paul suggested, “Jadah with the Phantoms team and Sacha with the Dirty Candy team? And Louise can join the Phantoms team too, to balance it out.” Kenny let his eyes wander over the two groups as they scattered towards each other. 

“Yep, I like that,” he then said and clapped his hands. “Premise of this game is to get across the rope together. There’s no going under it, it’s not a game limbo dancing. Okay? You gotta brainstorm and get across using teamwork.” 

“What does the winner get?” Owen asked, a smirk playing on his lips as he and his team huddled together on one side of the rope, closest to the mirror. 

“If Team Dirty Candy wins, they get to see your audition tape,” Kenny promised, immediately wiping off the smirk on Owen’s face as everyone on team Dirty Candy cheered and giggled. “If Team Phantoms wins…” 

A boost of confidence rushed through y/n as she exclaimed, “No need for that, Kenny. Team Dirty Candy is gonna win!” Sacha and Halle lifted their hands, so y/n hit hers against them in high fives. 

The director laughed at that while Owen kissed his teeth, an amused smirk playing at his lips. “We’ll see about that,” he said. “Kenny, what’s in it for us?” The director’s eyes darted from y/n to Owen and back, picking up on the connection that had formed between them with just non-verbal communication. 

“What would you say if I could get into possession of home videos from when y/n was younger.” Y/N’s eyes widened at this. She had almost forgotten her parents used to be buddies in college with Kenny, and he and her dad worked together on a couple of projects. 

“Yep, okay, you’re going down, Dirty Candy!” said Owen threateningly. “How is that fair, Kenny?!” y/n exclaimed, glaring at Owen as he cackled.

“About as fair as you seeing my audition tape!” he yelled, but still had that amused smile on his face that told her he wasn’t actually mad at her. 

She pressed her lips together into a tight line before turning to her team. “We have to win this thing, guys.” All four other Dirty Candy singers and Sacha nodded their heads determinedly, and threateningly turned back to their opposing team. 

“You’ve got half an hour to get everyone across. Every time a person touches the rope, everyone who’s already crossed over has to go back,” Paul explained in a stern tone. “Teams ready?” Both teams huddled up into a group, ready to brainstorm quickly. Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Owen straight away. He glared at her as she pointed two fingers at her own eyes, then pointing them to him. “3-2-1… GO!” Paul pressed the timer on his phone as the two teams began frantically discussing. 

“I used to be a gymnast,” Kyra started in a hushed tone. “If I can get onto someone’s shoulders, I can summersault my way off?” 

“Don’t you need a mat for that on the other side so as to not break your ankles?” Halle asked, her eyebrows knit together in confusion. The gymnast of the group shook her head, and so the discussion continued. 

On the other team, Owen was taking the lead in their discussion. He seemed to just have a game plan ready in his mind. There was no way the other team would ever be allowed to see his audition tape. It was way too embarrassing. 

“We’re gonna start with Charlie and me on our knees in front of the rope. Louise or Jeremy, one of you is gonna stand on both our knees and hop over. Then, whoever went over is gonna mirror us on the other side, so the next person has to step onto your thigh as they step over. We’re just gonna continue like that until I’m the last one here. I’m able to just jump across.” His teammates looked at him as if he’d just spoken Chinese. Blinking eyes and mouths ajar. 

They had five minutes left and on both teams, the second to last person had just gone over. Now, only Owen and Y/N were left standing on their side. Glaring at each other when they noticed this was match point, both of them stepped back for the run-up, and leapt over the rope at exactly the same time. 

Their teammates cheered as both teams huddled into a group hug. Kenny and Paul stood on the sidelines, applauding both team’s efforts. 

“I think we have a tie,” Kenny announced once the cheering had died down. 

“So, what does that mean?” Owen asked, glancing over at y/n anxiously. It would be fairest to have both their prices or no prices at all. 

“I think our two team captains can decide that,” Kenny said, pointing at both Owen and y/n, who had started this little war in the first place. “Do you wanna see each other’s videos, or is no one ever gonna see anything at all?”

Y/N and Owen glanced at each other, trying to communicate what each of them were feeling in that very moment. Owen’s eyes searched her face as she bit down on her lip. It wouldn’t be fair for me to see her old family videos. Those are kind of private, he thought. 

“I think we’re good,” Owen replied and offered the girl a smile as she nodded her head agreeingly. “This was a fun game, I don’t think it needs a price.” 

“Agreed.” 

Kenny and Paul told them to take a break before they got to the real dance training. Before y/n could join Savannah to their bags, Owen stopped her with a wide smile plastered on his face. 

“Nice job, y/n,” he said, opening his palms and holding them out to her. Y/N hit her hands on his in a double low five as a giggle escaped her lips. 

“You too,” she said. 

The rest of the day was spent dancing, or at least for Y/N. The first two hours, they had dance training together, but then they were split up into groups again. Y/N had more dance rehearsals with the girls from Dirty Candy while Madison and the boys went to try out some songs they were going to sing on the show. 

From that first day on, y/n knew that this wasn’t just going to be a work relationship she was building up with these people. She felt in her stomach that these people were going to become her best friends, her family. And she wouldn’t want to change it for the world. 

At the end of bootcamp, y/n was proven absolutely right. They had become the best of friends, and almost like a family. And they had yet to start filming. The next few months were going to be even more fun, especially that final night of bootcamp since Savannah had invited everyone to a sleepover at her place. 

Though y/n was half certain Savannah only did it to get her and Owen together, she was still excited about it. The blondie knew y/n had a thing for the tall blonde man ever since the first day, but she hadn’t done anything about it as she wanted to keep it professional. 

But of course Savannah didn’t quite agree to that.

The night of the sleepover, Savannah invited a few of the closest people over to her place. She literally went all out on this night. There were bowls of different varieties of chips scattered around tables, stacks of red cups on her kitchen counter, candles and fairy lights everywhere. Though, y/n was kind of apprehensive about the candles being a danger, she didn’t really say anything about it. It wasn’t going to be that kind of night, she thought. 

She even got them matching PJ’s. On the backside of six of the white T-shirts was TEAM DIRTY CANDY printed in a bright pink while the other five -- since Louise couldn’t make it -- read TEAM PHANTOMS in purple. She bought pink shorts for the girls on her team, purple ones for the girls on the other. For the boys, she brought grey joggers. 

Y/N appreciated the effort Savannah put into tonight. It was something she would do, too. She was a sucker for an over-the-top party and went all out herself on every occasion. 

“I made a non-alcoholic Sangria punch for everyone,” she said as she pointed to the large glass bowl on the kitchen counter near the stack of cups. “Who would like some?” 

Team Dirty Candy was complete while Team Phantoms missed two people. Two people who were often late for everything. Charlie and Owen. Of course they hadn’t arrived yet. It didn’t surprise y/n very much. Half an hour late. They were half an hour late. 

“We’re so sorry,” Charlie apologized to Savannah, “But this one over here was taking so long to get ready.” The brunette boy rolled his eyes as he thought of the dallying of the blonde one next to him. 

“You were barely ready when I was,” Owen countered and gladly took the punch-filled cup Savannah handed over before making a beeline towards the others who were gathered on the couches in the living room. 

His eyes immediately landed on y/n and his smile grew wider. “Well, look who finally showed his face, Dorian Gray.” His eyebrows knitting together made y/n realize he hadn’t the slightest clue about English Literature. “The Picture of Dorian Gray? No? Never read it?” Owen slowly shook his head as he slid down on the couch next to her. “OK…”

Y/N turned to Jadah, who was sitting next to her, completely ignoring Owen’s confused eyes. “Who the fuck is Dorian Gray?!” he yelled at Charlie, his eyes wide as he grew more and more annoyed. 

“Read a book!” Halle and y/n yelled in unison, and Halle even threw a pillow at him, reminiscent of that scene in The Heat where Melissa McCarthy threw a book at Michael McDonald’s face. The two girls fell into a fit of laughter, along with pretty much everyone else but Owen. He was too busy wiping the Sangria punch that had spilled with the impact of the pillow, off his jeans. 

“How about we get into our PJ’s and get this party started!” Savannah suggested, followed by an excited whoop. The girls all got up quickly, following behind Savannah while the boys stuck around the living room. They decided they needed to give the girls some privacy and would change after. 

“So…” Madison started when they were in Savannah’s bedroom, changing from their cute outfits into even cuter pj’s. “You’re gonna tell Owen how you feel tonight?” she asked y/n, her eyebrows wiggling suggestively up and down. 

“Feel about what?” y/n asked as she tucked her Team Dirty Candy shirt into her pink shorts. 

“About him!” Jadah exclaimed with wild eyes. “It’s clear you have a massive crush on him, girl!” Y/N looked around the room at the other girls, who were all just nodded their heads in accordance. 

Y/N scoffed after a few seconds of silence. She was thinking about confiding in them and telling them the truth, but it was no use. There was no way she and Owen could ever become a thing. She was supposed to be strictly professional as it was her first job. 

“I don’t have a crush on Owen,” she stated, grabbed her stuff and left the girls in the bedroom. After neatly folding her jeans and the top she had been wearing that day, and putting it into the backpack she’d taken with her, she made her way into the kitchen for some more punch. All while her mind went crazy. 

Sure, she had a definite crush on the blonde actor, but there was no way she was ever going to act up on those feelings. Owen probably didn’t even feel the same way about her anyway. Besides, she promised herself she would focus on her career instead of dabbling into relationships that probably won’t even last. 

The girls re-entered the living room at the same moment y/n went back with her full cup of Sangria. “Alright, boys, the bedroom is yours. It’s just around the corner,” Savannah told them, pointing to the door she’d left open. 

The four boys got up and, after receiving the pj’s from Savannah, disappeared into the bedroom. The complete quiet returning in the room. It made y/n a little anxious that the girls weren’t even talking. Mostly because she knew what they were thinking. They had told her a bizillion times already. 

“You could at least ask him!”

“He might say yes!” 

“You should act on your feelings!”

“This is gonna make you crazy!” 

She’d responded to that last one with, “If it doesn’t, you ain’t doing it right.” It shut them right up for a while. Until now, it seemed. 

“Let’s put some music on and get this party really started!” Tori suggested, hitting her hand against the red cup she was holding, excited to get dancing. Savannah agreed and grabbed her phone from the coffee table, connecting them to the speakers. It didn’t take long after that for music to begin filling up the silence. 

Into The Unknown from Frozen II chimed through the room. All the girls gasped. All but one. She cursed at herself for feeling this way and basically being a buzzkill right now. She didn’t want to be this way, but the thoughts about Owen kept consuming her. 

“I can hear you but I won't Some look for trouble while others don't There's a thousand reasons I should go about my day And ignore your whispers which I wish would go away, oh Whoa”

Tori and Madi turned to y/n as they sang along with Idina Menzel, trying to convince her to get up and belt the song with them. 

“You're not a voice, you're just a ringing in my ear And if I heard you, which I don't, I'm spoken for I fear Everyone I've ever loved is here within these walls I'm sorry, secret siren, but I'm blocking out your calls I've had my adventure, I don't need something new I'm afraid of what I'm risking if I follow you”

The other four girls now sang to y/n as well, in an attempt to persuade her to party along with them. She wanted to, she really did. But y/n wouldn’t be y/n if she wasn’t a little stubborn at first. 

“Into the unknown Into the unknown”

Madison reached out her hand, but y/n slapped it away and got up on the sofa, belting out the last line of the chorus while the girls looked at her in awe. They knew she could dance and act, but they had no idea the girl had pipes. 

“Into the unknown”

As the girls belted out the rest of the song, the boys walked into the living room again in their Team Phantoms and Team Dirty Candy shirts, stumbling upon the scene of y/n on the sofa and the girls surrounding her as if they were her fans at a concert. All seven of them were singing the song at the top of their lungs. 

Owen couldn’t help the smile finding its way to his lips as he watched y/n in her absolute element. Though she be but small, the girl took up a large part of his heart. Ever since they met a month ago, her snarky remarks and her hunch for competition made him fall head over heels in love with her. And as the month went on and they became closer and closer, he kept avoiding asking the one question that was on the tip of his tongue. 

For now, being friends was enough for Owen if it meant watching her do stuff like this. 

“Are you out there? Do you know me? Can you feel me? Can you show me?”

Charlie’s voice made Owen snap out of his thoughts as he asked, “When are you going to ask her out, man? This whole ‘just friends’ thing is killing you.” Owen sighed at his best friend’s words. It wasn’t that he was wrong as much as he just didn’t like hearing the words out loud. 

“I’m fine, Charlie. There’s no way we could ever be together. Y/N is way too professional for that. And she might be right, you know? This is her first gig, if she wants to pursue this acting debacle, she has to be.” Owen didn’t even believe any of the words that rolled off his lips, but it’s what he’d settled on to ease his own mind. 

“Not with that attitude,” Jeremy mumbled. 

“I just don’t know what to do, okay?” he said and headed over to the concert y/n was giving the girls. The moment he came into her range of vision, she turned to him and sang the very last lines to him, and him alone, causing butterflies to well up in his belly.  

“Where are you going? Don't leave me alone How do I follow you Into the unknown?”

“Woah, y/n!” Halle exclaimed as she shook her head in disbelief. 

“Yeah! Woah indeed!” Savannah added, “Your voice! Girl!” Y/N chuckled, and grabbed the hem of her pink shorts as though she was wearing a dress and curtsied at the praise. 

“Thank you,” she said, and though she was playing it off coolly, her cheeks colored pink.

The next song started to play, which was Golden by Harry Styles, and the other three boys joined the rest of the group. Charlie, Sacha and Tori hopped onto the couch with y/n, belting out the song and sipping from their punch. 

This was what the sleepover mostly consisted of; singing along loudly to whatever song was playing, sipping from the punch and munching on the snacks Savannah had laid out for them. For at least an hour, they sang and danced until their feet started to ache. Up to the point where only y/n, Savannah and Madi were left standing. The boys and other girls had taken a seat on the couch, watching the performance they were giving them. 

Y/N had enough of their lame asses, so when her favorite One Direction song came on, she made her way over to the couch and took a hold of Owen’s hand first. “Come on, Golden Boy! Sing with me!” Little did she know everyone glanced at each other knowingly upon seeing this. 

“If I didn't have you, there would be nothing left The shell of a man that could never be his best If I didn't have you, I'd never see the sun You taught me how to be someone, yeah”

Owen finally caved in and sang along with the girl in front of him, eyes locked and filled with absolute admiration. 

“I’m… gonna…” Savannah muttered, but when she realized they didn’t even hear her, she ushered everyone out of the living room and into the kitchen, leaving the two alone in hopes they would confess their undeniable love for each other. 

The boy twirled her around a few times, making her giggle before they fell into song again, making up some moves as they went. Neither of them even noticed the rest of the group was gone and watching them from the kitchen. 

“Anyone wanna bet nothing’s gonna happen?” Sacha muttered and frustratedly sipped his drink. He’d seen the way y/n looked at Owen that first day and just knew something would blossom between them. Everyone could see it. The sparks were ignited that very first day, and now they were just waiting for them to fan the sparks into a flame. 

“If I didn't have you there would be nothing left” 

Y/N reached her half empty red cup towards Owen like a microphone as he echoed part of the line. His green eyes never left y/n’s face. It almost felt reminiscent of the way Madison and Charlie sang at bootcamp as Julie and Luke. 

“Nothing left”

“The shell of a man who could never be his best” 

“Be his best”

“If I didn't have you, I'd never see the sun”

“See the sun”

“You taught me how to be someone

Yeah”

“I’ll give you ten dollars if Owen doesn’t stop at the end of the song when y/n hits those high notes,” Charlie told Sacha. The latter nodded his head in confirmation of the deal. 

At the end of the song, during the very last chorus, Owen had to stop singing in awe of y/n’s voice as she hit the high notes Harry Styles reverberated in between the other boys’ voices. She had the most unique voice he had ever heard. It had a bit of a rasp to it, and it quickly became his favorite sound in the whole world. 

Charlie chuckled, shaking his head at the couple as he exclaimed, “Called it!” and held his hand out for Sacha to give him the ten dollars. The blonde guy gave the older one a puzzled look. “I said I’ll give you a tenner if he didn’t stop. But he did, so. Hand it over, buddy.” 

Sacha rolled his eyes but went to grab the last ten bucks from his wallet and handed it to Charlie who happily socked it away. 

Another song started playing, making y/n gasp as her eyes averted from Owen’s to the kitchen where the rest of her friends were seated, watching the entire scene. “Tori! Do you remember the choreo to this one?!” she shrieked out. Tori offered the rest an apologetic smile before joining y/n in the living room and getting into the steps with her while Owen staggered into the kitchen. 

Madison and Savannah exchanged glances, deciding to put their mischievous plan in motion with a simple nod of the head. “Alright! Let’s play truth or dare!” Savannah called out and beckoned everyone into the living room where y/n and Tori whined at the disruption of their dance. 

“Oh, shut up, you guys do that dance almost every day in rehearsal!” Kyra countered while she jumped over the back of the couch. With a chuckle, Tori and y/n joined the others on the couch. Tori took a seat next Jadah while y/n went to sit on the end of the U-shaped couch, next to Owen. 

“I’ll start!” Madi shouted, raising her hand. “Jadah! Truth or dare?” Savannah and Madison agreed to handle it subtly and not get to Owen and y/n straight away. 

“Dare,” Jadah replied courageously, a wide smile on her face to show off her pearly white teeth. 

“Call one of your contacts in your phone and tell them you had a pregnancy scare,” Madi said as a smirk tugged at one corner of her mouth. Jadah grabbed her phone and opened her contacts. “Just scroll through and we’ll say stop,” Madison added. 

“STOP!” Madi and y/n shouted in unison. 

Jadah looked up with her eyes wide, “It’s Sarah Jeffrey,” she giggled and pressed the name before putting the device at her ear to listen. A silence fell over the room as they all watched Jadah carry out the dare. 

A smile played on y/n’s lips as she watched the young girl talk, but couldn’t help but zone out. She was suddenly incredibly aware of how close she was to Owen. He had one leg tucked under the other as she rested her forearm on his knee, leaning into his body as his arm laid on the back rest behind her. She could feel his heart beating against her ribs and his fingers softly graze her arm every now and again. 

“Jadah, your turn,” Savannah said, making y/n realize she had missed that entire conversation. It didn’t seem like Sarah Jeffrey said something too incredulous since everyone seemed to act quite normal. For as far as normal goes in this group. 

“Sacha! Truth or dare?” 

“Dare!” 

“Uhm…” Jadah pursed her lips as she thought. “Try and seduce the person next to you.” Sacha looked to his left, at Jeremy, and then to his right, at Charlie. He thought about it for a moment but turned to Charlie in the end. 

“I have too much respect for Carolynn,” he told Jeremy, which made the engaged boy chuckle as he played around with his ring. He definitely missed Care. 

Sacha cleared his throat before placing his hand on Charlie’s cheek and forcing the boy to look him in the eyes. Charlie’s smile faltered just before Sacha spoke, “You… Are so beautiful, you made me forget my pickup line.” His voice was hushed, barely above a whisper. Charlie visibly swallowed at the pretty boy in front of him. Before he could register it, Sacha had kissed his own fingers and placed them on Charlie’s lips. The older boy coughed, blinking his eyes rapidly as he turned to the group again. 

“Woah-kay! Next!” 

The group burst out into laughter until Sacha called out Savannah’s name. 

“I’m gonna pick ‘truth’,” she said with a smile, which vanished almost straight away when she got booed. “What? Somebody's gotta pick truth!” 

“Who is the sexiest person here?” Sacha asked, wiggling his eyebrows. 

“Easy, all of you,” she uttered, shrugging her shoulders, “Y/N!” She pointed at the girl to her right. 

“Let’s go dare,” the unknowing girl answered with a smile as she shifted in Owen’s arms. 

“7 minutes in heaven with the person to your right.” The sentence flowed out of her mouth a little too easily. Y/N knew Savannah had done this on purpose, and now she wasn’t sure if she should hate her best friend or be thankful for the little push in the back. 

Y/N slowly turned her head to face Owen, only to find out he’s already getting up. Her arm fell from his knee and she tried to keep her balance from the sudden lack of support of her body. He held a hand out to her to help her up, but y/n wasn’t sure if she should do it. This could just about change everything in their dynamique. 

“A dare is a dare, y/n,” Madison added innocently, egging the girl on. 

The girl inhaled deeply before gently placing her hand in Owen’s and letting him pull her up. Savannah led them towards the closet where they kept their coats, and opened the door for the couple. 

All the way down there, y/n’s mind couldn’t stop racing. What was she going to do? Were they actually going to kiss? Or was this his way of telling her in private that he didn’t feel the same? Maybe she should just not give him the chance to say anything and break her heart. Maybe she should just kiss him to have at least experienced having his lips on hers so she could stop daydreaming about it. 

The closet door shut behind her, and she was left in the dimly lit cramped space with just a bunch of coats and Owen’s silhouette. Now’s her time to figure out what she should do. Now’s her time to decide. 

“We don’t have to if you don’t want to, I--” before Owen could finish his sentence, y/n attacked his lips with hers, pressing them together in a short, but sweet kiss. When she pulled away, she felt a heat rising to her cheeks. His lips taste better than she had ever dreamt of. How was she now supposed to forget about that? This was a terrible idea. 

Or at least she thought it was until he took this as permission to go forth with the whole seven minutes in heaven thing their friends wanted them to do. Hell, he wanted them to do it. 

He kissed her feverishly, his hands gripping at her waist as he tried to pull her closer and closer, even if that was almost impossible since her body was already pressed against his without any space left for imagination. 

She kissed him back as if her life depended on it, her fingers tangling up in his blonde hair. This was something she had fantasized about for a month. Every time they talked, she couldn’t help herself but glance at his lips and wonder what it would feel like to press hers to his. Since that very first day of bootcamp, she knew there was something about him that she couldn’t put her finger on. But now she did. It was an attraction. Pure attraction. The way metal attracts a magnet. 

“I’ve wanted to do that since you so confidently told Kenny you were gonna win that game,” he panted, pressing his forehead against hers. “I didn’t think you felt the same.” 

“I have had a crush on you since you smiled at me that first day,” y/n admitted, a smile forming on her face as she stared into those beautiful eyes of his. They reflected back in exactly the same way they did after those ice breaking games on day one. 

He lifted his head to get a better look at her, raising his eyebrows, “That’s all it took? OK…” Y/N let out an airy laugh as she hit him on the chest playfully. “So, what do you say to a date?” 

“Nothing, ‘cause a date can’t speak,” she wittily answered. Owen scoffed and rolled his eyes, but couldn’t withhold a smile reaching his cheeks. “All jokes aside, I think I would say yes to a date.” She reached up and stroked a strand of his hair from his forehead. 

“You think?” he asked. 

“Mmh, no, I’m pretty sure.” 

That just widened Owen’s smile before he dipped down to meet her lips again. A loud uproar was heard from the other side of the door at that moment. The couple in the closet giggled upon hearing this, knowing exactly that their friends had been eavesdropping. 

“Can’t believe they set this all up,” y/n said, shaking her head and placing her forehead against Owen’s chest. She inhaled his fresh scent of musk and sandalwood. A calming smell she had come to love. 

“Yeah... me neither,” he chuckled, “How did we end up here?”    

*

*

*

JATP taglist: @hannahhistorian92 @marinettepotterandplagg@thequirkybookaholic @bookdealer5 @tenaciousperfectionunknown @hemmingsness @iainttakingshitfromnobody @ifilwtmfc @angryknightstatesmantrash @kiss-themoongoodbye @rudysbay @thedarkqueenofavalon​ @caitsymichelle13​ @calamitykaty @wiselight @kcd15​ @vicesvsvirtuesfanfic @stars-soph @kinda-really-lost @notasofti 

[sapphosclown]

Kiss Him You Fool - Willex Oneshot

aka willie and flynn are best friends and she’s done with this mutual pining bullshit. (boys are alive bc i didn’t feel like thinking about ghost logistics today lmao)

so i didn’t get to participate in willex week nearly as much as i wanted to so this is my song fic/au fic (i guess? since the guys are alive? idk) for free day since i didn’t get the idea till last night at 1am. anyways i also didn’t sign up for the gift exchange but i still wanna dedicate this fic to @fairygclds for hosting this week bc she did an amazing job and i love her v much, ty mari <3

title is from Kiss Her You Fool by Kids That Fly, cute song highly recommend

rbs and comments appreciated :)

———

———

That was real right? He didn’t make that up in his head? That happened. Right?

Willie was abruptly knocked out of their thoughts as his board hit a crack in the sidewalk, sending him onto the pavement, scraping his knee. Although, the stinging did help them snap out of the daze he was in, making him realize that yes, this is real life, and yes, he and Alex Mercer almost kissed.

***

“Stop, you’re not allowed to be that good at everything.” Willie teased as Alex just barely completed a loop around him.

“I feel like we are experiencing different timelines here or something.” Alex let out a shaky laugh as he flailed his arms in an attempt to regain the balance he’d just lost. Luckily, Willie held out their arm for him to grab just in time.

“Come on, you’re doing great! Just need to have a little more faith in yourself.” Willie smiled gently, offering extra support with his free hand.

Alex scoffed. “I think I’m a roller skating kind of guy.”

“Well, I disagree but if that’s how you feel—”

Alex rolled his eyes, making Willies stomach flutter. He helped him off the skateboard and they sat down on the couch in the studio. Willie ignored the fact that despite having the entire couch to themselves, they sat right up against each other, and he especially ignored the way their knees touching made his heart beat faster than normal.

“Actually, I think solid ground is where it’s at.” Alex said, only half-joking.

“I guess, but the wheels add some spice that solid ground could never live up to.”

“Exactly. You know exactly what you’re getting with solid ground. Me and wheels have a complicated relationship.”

“Oh really? You guys have a falling out?” Willie teased.

“Ha, yeah. There was some falling.” Alex gave a sarcastic laugh.

“But that’s the fun part! You can get some pretty rad scars from skating.” Willie pointed out.

“‘Rad?’ What, are you from the 80’s?”

“Listen—” Willie shushed him, shoving his shoulder into him playfully.

They laughed for a moment before falling into a comfortable silence. Willie was really tempted to lay his head onto Alex’s shoulder, or hold his hand.

His hand was right there. It would be so easy... But instead he grabbed their own hand and started messing with their fingers.

“So, what are your plans for the rest of the day?” He asked lamely.

“We’re rehearsing for our gig tomorrow night. Luke and Julie are going over the set list one last time right now but we should be starting pretty soon.” Alex replied, checking the time on his phone before looking back at Willie. “Actually, if you wanna hangout while we rehearse, I don’t think they’d mind.”

“Oh, yeah! That sounds great!” Willie smiled.

“Cool.” Alex nodded, and maybe he was seeing things, but Willie could’ve sworn his cheeks were turning pink. That made him giggle.

“So, what’s the set list then?” They asked curiously. He shifted his body so that he could look at Alex, only mildly upset about the loss of contact, but being able to see the faded pink in Alex’s cheeks made up for it.

“Well, usually we start with Edge of Great, but Julie and Luke wrote this new song that is perfect to open with and I just know everyone’s gonna love it—”

Willie stared at Alex as he rambled on about the show and they couldn’t help the soft smile on their lips. Alex noticed almost immediately and stopped talking, almost embarrassed.

“What?” He asked.

“No, it’s nothing.” Willie said, waving his hand for them to move past it.

“No, I feel like you’re judging me!” Alex giggled.

“No! I’m not judging you!” Willie reassured. “You’re just really cute when you talk about music.” He said softly.

Alex went bright red. “Oh.” He replied in the same tone.

The air around them went quiet again, but this time filled with a different feeling. The feeling that there was nothing else in the world but the two of them. And suddenly their faces were a lot closer than Willie had realized. His eyes flicked down to Alex’s lips subconsciously and then back to his eyes, which he found were doing the same thing. There was nothing stopping him, all he had to do was lean in just a little bit more...

“WHO’S READY TO MAKE SOME MUSIC!” Reggie called excitedly as he entered the garage, making Willie and Alex jump apart. Reggie eyed them suspiciously. “Oh, hey Willie.” He said, eyebrows pulled together like he was piecing together what just happened.

“Hey.” Willie breathed uncomfortably. He felt like he couldn’t get enough air.

“Are you gonna hangout for rehearsal?” Reggie asked.

“Actually, uh, I gotta get going.” Willie sputtered before his brain could catch up to his mouth. They stood up and grabbed their things messily.

“I thought you said—”

“I just remembered I have to do something.” Willie cut Alex off. “I’ll see you tomorrow though?”

“Yeah. Yeah, okay.” Alex said quietly, failing at hiding his disappointment and making Willies chest ache.

“Cool.” Willie said. “See ya.” He threw an awkward peace sign at Reggie (who gave him one back) and skated out of the garage as fast as he possibly could.

***

“You are a disaster.” Flynn scolded, grabbing a dinosaur band-aid out of her desk drawer.

“I know!” Willie yelled into her pillow. She plopped down onto the bed in front of him.

“Why didn’t you just kiss him! You had the opportunity and he clearly wanted to kiss you too!” She yelled.

“I don’t know!” Willie whined, throwing the pillow back down into his lap. “I wanted to but I froze! And then Reggie showed up and I couldn’t stay after that! What if he didn’t want that to happen, what if he hates me now!”

“He doesn’t hate you! He’s very clearly in love with you, I don’t know what you’re not understanding about this.” She peeled the paper off the band-aid and carefully stuck it to Willies knee.

“You don’t know that.” He huffed.

“Who do you think you’re talking to? He likes you. When have I ever been wrong?”

They hated to admit it, but there have been very few times Flynn has been wrong.

“Fine. But what am I supposed to do?”

“Go back there? Ask him on a date or kiss him or just literally do anything.”

“I can’t go back! He’s rehearsing! I don’t wanna barge in while they’re rehearsing. And I left so fast it’d be so awkward—”

“Stop making excuses!” Flynn shook their shoulders, as they pouted. “Call him and say you forgot something.”

“I didn’t forget anything.” He said plainly. Flynn shot him a look.

“Duh! I know that, but if you tell him you’re coming back to get something then you can’t chicken out.” She explained, exasperated.

“Oh! Well what should I say I forgot?”

“Your phone, that's a reasonable thing you’d need to get back.”

“Okay. Okokok.” Willie mumbled to themself pulling out his phone and scrolling through his contacts before Flynn snatched it from them.

“What are you doing?”

“Calling him like you said!”

“Use my phone dummy! If you call him from your phone he’ll know you didn’t leave it there!” She opened her phone and before Willie realized what was happening, the phone was ringing on speaker.

“Hello?” Alex’s voice cracked through the phone.

Flynn looked at Willie and then back to the phone when he just sat there mouth agape.

“Um, hi. It’s Willie, not Flynn, I, um, left my phone in the studio and I’m on my way back to grab it.” They stuttered, hitting his head at his awkwardness.

“Oh alright. See you soon, then.”

“Yup. See ya.” Willie threw his head in his hands, their face turning bright red. Flynn ended the call and leaned against her wall with their arms crossed.

“You really are a disaster huh.” She teased.

Willie threw his pillow at them playfully and jumped off the bed. “I hate you.” He laughed.

“Love you too.” She grinned slyly. “Now, go tell your boyfriend he’s cool and you wanna kiss him!”

Willie groaned as he grabbed his things as Flynn shooed him out of her room.

***

“He’s coming back.” Alex said quickly. His friends shared the same look as they all “ooooooo”d at him.

“Guys stop! What do I do!” He cried.

“Man calm down, it’s alright.” Reggie consoled him.

“Why’re they coming back?” Julie asked turning her keyboard off so she can lean on the keys.

“Said they forgot their phone.” Alex replied.

“Mhm, right. Sure he did.” Luke teased. If he were closer Alex would’ve shoved him but he felt like he was glued to his seat.

“What do I do?” Alex asked again.

“I mean, we can keep rehearsing till he gets here if that’ll take your mind off of it?” Julie suggested.

God bless Julie. Alex nodded.

“I don’t know, it seems like he and Willie have some unfinished business.” Reggie winked.

“No! Nothing was happening! Nothing happened, it’s nothing. He just needs his phone back.” Alex tried to ignore his friends snickering but his mind flashed back to Willie on the couch in front of him. He really thought Willie had wanted to kiss him, but if how he left says anything, Alex must’ve misread the situation. They probably hated him.

“Dude, I can practically hear your thoughts and I promise you, he likes you.” Reggie assured him.

“You can’t know that for sure.” Alex mumbled, watching his drumstick twirl through his fingers.

“Maybe not but, we’ve all noticed how they look at you.” Luke cut in.

“It’s not exactly a secret.” Julie said sweetly.

“I just... I care about them a lot and what if you’re wrong and that’s just how he acts with his friends—”

“No, dude, we’re not letting you talk yourself out of this one.” Luke laughed.

“Seriously, Alex, you should go for it!” Reggie said encouragingly, walking around his drums to clap his shoulder.

Alex thought about it, he really did. He really thought for a second that he could do it, he could just lean forward and kiss him and they’d live happily ever after. But he over thought it, as usual.

“I don’t know. Maybe someday.” He shrugged.

“You can’t just wait for someday! You gotta go after what you want!” Luke exclaimed. Julie nodded.

Alex smiled at his friends. He appreciated their support but he couldn’t help but be afraid. Deep down, he knew they were right. He knew if Reggie had been just a minute later... But he still didn’t want to get his hopes up too high. Because there’s always that what if that won’t leave him alone.

There was a gentle knock on the garage doors as Willie stepped into view, he was hugging his arms and had a soft smile on his face. They carefully waved at everyone before he made eye contact with Alex, and suddenly it felt just like they were on the couch again. Just the two of them.

You know what. Maybe it’s time for someday.

Alex stood up from his drums and walked over to Willie, trying to act nonchalant. He heard Julie clear her throat to get the other two to stop staring at them and at least pretend to do something else.

“Hey.” Alex breathed.

“Hey.” Willie replied. “Can I actually see you, out here?” He asked shyly, nodding his head out side.

Alex nodded and followed Willie out of view of his band mates.

“Sorry, I probably should’ve looked for your phone before you got here but—” before Alex could finish his sentence Willie had cupped Alex’s face and pulled him into a kiss.

Alex felt like his heart had just exploded and he wasn’t completely sure if he was real anymore, but then he felt his hand rest on Willies cheek and he could confirm that yes, this was happening.

It didn’t last longer than a few seconds before Willie pulled away again. Their eyes searched Alex’s face for any sign of his emotion but Alex had completely stopped functioning and didn’t quite know what to do until he felt Willies grip on his face loosen.

“I’m sorry—” He tried to retract his hands but Alex held them in place, and he couldn’t help but laugh. He saw Willie’s worry fade and Alex pulled him back into a kiss. This one much softer, less rushed. No longer a question, but an answer.

They pulled apart and Alex noticed Willie shrinking down a bit and smiled to himself.

“Do you have to stand on your tiptoes to kiss me?” He asked cheekily.

Willie raised his eyebrows. “That’s the question you have right now?”

Alex nodded, his smile unmoving.

“I’m glad you have your priorities set.” Willie laughed.

“Definitely.” Alex whispered. “Priority number one, make you stand on your tiptoes to kiss me again.”

“You’re mean.” Willie pouted. Alex laughed and Willie gave him a playful shove before Alex pulled him back onto his tiptoes.

“It’s about time.” Reggie whispered as he Luke and Julie peeked around the door and watched their friend.

“Luke,” He stood up straight and held out his hand.

Luke groaned and fished for his wallet in his pockets, handing him a $20 bill.

“Thank you.” Reggie said smugly, pocketing the cash.

Julie laughed and shook her head at her friends and they all made their way back to their respective instruments. Julie pulled out her phone.

Flynn: did he do it??

Julie: yup. reggie’s $20 richer

Flynn: about time!! took those fools long enough, geez

Julie: really tho

Alex walked back into the studio a blushing smiley mess and sat at his drums again, not saying a word despite his friends staring at him expectantly.

He scanned their faces from his seat behind his drums.

“From the top?”

———

———

a/n: let it be known that reggie used that $20 to buy a fish and he named it Gil and he is the best fish dad ever