#i never thought they would be a hit let alone inspire a playlist

[wackus-bonkus-maximus]

psst hey anyone want a feligami playlist?

courtesy of @lesbitorte who has been the official dj for odnlb.

(drop by the odnlb playlist if you like what you hear!)

also mila you did not include 'red desert' by 5sos but that has been my feligami anthem this whole time. AND WHERE IS 'HUMAN ENOUGH' BY ONR?

[tkwrites]

It Doesn't Matter - Part III - Nico Hischier x ofc

Gif from offside-the-lines

Title: It Doesn’t Matter - Part III

Author: Tory / @tkwrites 

Relationship: Nico Hischier x Original female character 

Summary: Though they’ve finally confessed their feelings for one another, a 7 day road trip stands between Nico and Lena finally beginning their relationship. When Lena sends a photo of herself Nico never expected to receive, it springboards them into new territory. Upon arriving home, he and Lena are finally able to be together in ways they’ve only dreamed of. 

Warnings: Lots of fluff, followed by lots of smut (18+ only): oral (f and m receiving), unprotected p in v (wrap it up unless you’re in a consenting relationship!), talks of feeling singled out and a really dick ex-boyfriend.

Word count: 13,400

Comments: Phew! We made it. Just barely.

I gave myself a deadline for this series, liking the idea that I’d publish each installment on the last day of the the month, and I’m really proud that I was able to stick to that goal. 

This piece is LONG, so strap in. It was so much fun to write and string together, though. Writing Nico and Lena finally getting together has been such a joy for me. I really hope you enjoy it, too! If there's anything you'd like to see in their universe, please let me know!

If you do enjoy it, please consider letting me know by commenting, reblogging, or sending in an ask. Your encouragement and comments truly inspire me to keep writing. 

It Doesn’t Matter - Part III

Part I | Part II | Part III | Playlist

Two days into the road trip, Nico was feeling restless and unsure. He wanted to call Lena and tell her he missed her. He wanted to talk to her about everything and nothing. Hear about her day in class and tell her about practice. Now that they’d crossed that initial physical barrier, he wanted to have phone sex and listen to her getting herself off. He wanted… he wanted so many things, but he wasn’t really sure where they stood. Could he just call her up and initiate a conversation that spanned both their friendship and their newfound sexual connection? Even when they were just friends and roommates, he hardly ever called her to just say hi. That felt too much like something he would do if they were dating, and he couldn't take the disappointment that came with not having that part be true. 

Except maybe now it was true?

Staring at her contact photo, he wondered how people did this. 

For Lena’s part, she was pacing the apartment, wondering if she should go through with it. Earlier in the day, in a fit of missing Nico so much it ached, she put on the lingerie set she bought the first week she’d moved in, set up her phone and took some photos to send to him. There was one in particular she liked, and she even had it queued up in a message. Now that she had someone to wear it for, and it, amazingly, turned out to be the guy she’d always hoped it would be, she couldn’t get the idea of wearing it for him out of her mind. And why wait until he was home when she could send a picture now?

He was off this afternoon, which meant he was likely napping. She could send it during the game, but there was more of a chance someone else might see it if she did that. And this was for his eyes only. 

She thought about prefacing it with a Don’t open this until you’re alone, message, but wouldn’t that ruin the surprise?

Finally deciding it’d be better to send it now, while he was more likely to be alone than after the game, she hit the blue arrow. The whooshing sound let her know it was delivered, and her heart immediately jumped into her throat. 

It was too late to take back now, and trying to explain her reasoning over text seemed impossible. She’d just have to wait for him to respond. 

Walking to her easel, she decided she needed to distract herself until he did. If she didn’t, she knew she would obsess powerfully and end up sending him something written from pure anxiety, and those messages never turned out well. For all she knew, he could be asleep and wouldn’t see it for another few hours. 

The thing was that Lena had never done this before. She'd never sent a picture of herself that hadn't been requested first, and she’d never wanted to. 

Past boyfriends wanted to ‘see her when they were apart,’ but that really translated to ‘I want something to show off to my friends.’ She'd been shocked to find Milo showing one of his buddies a picture she’d sent him while they were at a party. Together. He wasn’t even trying to hide it. The picture showed Lena in nothing but her underwear, one arm wrapped around her chest for some semblance of modesty when she didn’t really want to send the picture in the first place. The fact that he had it pulled up and was showing it off so casually made her feel objectified and cheap. 

That night, she did the sneakiest thing she'd ever done in a relationship and used his sleeping face to unlock his phone so she could delete all the pictures she'd sent him before breaking up with him the next morning. She even told him what she did. He complained that she was an uptight bitch who didn’t understand he was showing her off, and shouldn’t she be flattered. 

Nico would never do something like that. She knew him too well. He would know and had told her that photos like that were for the recipient only and shouldn’t be shared with anyone else. He told her once that one of the guys on the Mooseheads tried to show him a picture of his girlfriend, and the rest of the boys teased him for turning away. 

“She’s not my girlfriend,” he complained to Lena later that day, “I don’t want to see that.” It was one of the first times she knew he was different, and her rule about not dating hockey players was going to be broken.

It was because of that. Because she knew he wouldn’t show anyone else, and because she had the suspicion he would never ask for something like this that she’d sent it. 

The whole time she’d known him, Nico had been the nicest cute boy on the team. Always easy going and quick with a smile, even when he didn't understand what anyone was saying. He never treated her like a piece of meat like some of the guys did, always seeing and celebrating her humanity before anything else. He was genuinely interested in her art, and not just as a means of getting into her pants. 

When she met him, and they began hanging out with mutual friends, she remembered thinking, I'm going to tell people I met the love of my life in my senior year. 

Setting her phone face down on the end table, she picked up her palette and brush and turned her focus to the mountain sunset she’d been working on all week. 

When Nico's phone buzzed with a text from Lena, he opened it right away, anxious to hear from her. He didn't think anything of the preview that told him it was a photo. She often sent memes or funny photos of Cookie around the apartment or progress on her latest painting. 

Had he thought this might be anything close to possibility, he would have opened it in the bathroom. 

An embarrassing noise, overflowing with longing, crawled up his throat. 

Jonas shot him a confused look, and Nico had to act like everything was normal. Like he wasn’t taken completely off guard. Like he didn’t have a hard on in their hotel room. Like Lena hadn’t just sent him a picture of herself in pink lingerie, winking cheekily at the camera.

He wanted to bury his head in a pillow and groan. He wanted to call her and tell her how beautiful she was. He wanted to detail each and every way he was going to make her come when he got home. 

“I’m —” Nico coughed, “I’m gonna go on a walk,” he told Jonas, bolting out of bed and into the hallway. Maybe this was worse. Now, he had a boner in public. He needed a place where he could talk to her alone. 

There was a conference room the coaches were using this morning, wasn’t there? He ran down the hall and found the room empty and blissfully unlocked. 

The whole wall facing the hallway was glass, but it’s not like he was going to do anything indecent. 

The call went to voicemail. 

Frowning, Nico pulled the phone away from his ear. Certainly, in the time it took him to run down the hall, she hadn’t gone away from her phone. And she didn’t send that thinking he wouldn’t respond, right? That would be crazy. No woman would send a picture of herself like that if she didn’t want a response. 

The device buzzed in his hand, and he felt a sigh let go in his chest. “Hey,” he greeted, bringing it back to his ear. 

“I’m sorry,” she said, sounding a little breathless, “I didn’t want to drop my palette all over your living room.” 

“Thanks,” he said, laughter in his tone. He was amazed she could just go back to painting after sending a message like that. He’d be a nervous wreck.

The awkwardness that passed over the phone line between them made Lena’s heart race with indecision. How was she supposed to broach this subject? Did you get the photo I sent? Do you want to talk about it? Are you calling me because it had the desired affect? 

Finally, she decided to go into neutral territory, “so, how are you?” 

How was he supposed to answer that question? 

“I got your message,” he said, wincing at the accusing tone in his voice. He didn’t even answer her question.

“Did you…” she felt suddenly self-conscious, “I mean, did you like it?” 

Did she think he was blind? “Yeah, I wouldn’t have minded some warning, though,” he admitted. The sound that had come out of his mouth when he opened it rang in his head, and he felt himself flush out of embarrassment. 

“Sorry,” she said, voice sheepish. “I was debating about telling you to open it alone, but I just kind of freaked out and sent it.”

Laughter rumbled from his chest, “you don’t need to apologize. I really liked it.”

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah. I don’t know a man alive who wouldn’t like getting a picture like that from the woman he loves.” 

The casual way he said he loved her made her heart pitter-patter. 

“You’re the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen, Lena,” he said.

She liked that he used the word seen. Not the most beautiful woman he’d ever met, the most beautiful he’d ever seen. Heat raced into her cheeks, “really?”

“Yes.” It almost came out a groan. Just thinking about it got him worked up, but now that they were on the phone, he didn’t think it was the time to broach phone sex. Maybe that was her intention in sending it, but their conversation was too sweet and awkward to steer in that direction. He didn’t want to ruin it, or for her to think he only wanted her physically. He wanted every part of her.

His simple answer turned her insides to goo. 

She sniffed, and panic spiked in his chest. “Are you crying?” 

“A little.” 

“Why? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothings wrong,” her voice was wobbly, “I just…I can’t really believe this is my life, you know?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I mean that I spent six years pining after you, thinking you didn’t like me, and now you’re telling me I’m the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen. It almost doesn’t feel real.” 

“Yeah,” he swung his legs up onto the sofa under the windows and lay back. “The whole time we were kissing, I kept thinking I needed to pinch myself.” 

She giggled, knowing the feeling all too well. 

“I wish I told you sooner,” he said quietly.

“Tell me about it,” she groaned. 

He knew he would beat himself up about this, and his siblings would hold how they were right about Lena over his head for the rest of time. 

“I can’t believe you sent me a picture of yourself in lingerie,” he said, voice full of wonder and longing. “I don’t think I ever even let myself imagine that.” The reality of it was too much. It made their relationship more tangible somehow. 

“I missed you, and I just kept thinking about how I finally had someone to wear it for other than myself, and I don’t know, I just…I wanted you to see it.”

Her admission made his insides feel gooier than a raclette. “I miss you too,” he said, glad he hadn't steered the conversation to sex. That would come, he knew, but he was glad for this reassurance. 

They fell into a comfortable silence, and Nico pulled in a calming breath. 

“How was class on Friday?” 

“Good. Professor Brown really likes my sketches.” 

“Yeah?” 

“Yeah, she said I really turned a corner and understood what she was trying to get us to do.” 

“That’s great.” 

Posing for her would have never been in vain when it brought them together, but he was glad the art wasn’t going unnoticed by her teachers. 

“She wants to put them in the student showcase for this semester.” 

His mouth went dry. “What?” 

“She said they’re such a cohesive story and series, she’d like to put them in the showcase. It’s a huge honor. I told her I had to talk to you before I could say yes, though.”

Mind racing, Nico wondered what on earth he’d gotten himself into. 

“I…” he paused. “How —” his voice squeaked over the word, and he had to clear his throat, “how long would they be up?” 

“Basically through December. I think the show goes up that first weekend.” 

That was only a few weeks away. 

“And they take it down when we come back after the break, so mid-January, I think.”

“I just…” he gulped, “I — what if someone recognizes me?” It was highly unlikely people who attended art shows at the New York Institute of Art would know him on site, but the thought of a fan seeing the sketches and recognizing him posing nude still made his stomach turn. 

“Well, they won’t be up for sale, so no one will be taking them home but me,” she assured. 

That was a relief.

“I could try to take out your tattoo, make you a little less recognizable.” 

He didn’t respond. 

“You don’t have to decide now. You can take time to think about it.”

The hesitation in her voice made his mind up for him. He wouldn’t be the thing holding her back. He’d figure it out. 

“You should show them,” he found himself saying. 

He’d have to tell the teams PR about it in case someone posted them on social media. 

“Only if you’re sure.” 

“I’m sure. I’m…” Why hadn’t he led out with this? “I’m really proud of you.” 

Her insides turned to pudding again, “thank you, Nico.” 

He would figure it out. It would be fine. The most important thing was that she was getting the recognition she deserved. “We can go see it together?” he asked. 

“They have a gallery opening I’ll have to attend. I’ll have to make sure, but I think it’s on the 6th.” 

He pulled up the team calendar. They were, thankfully, in town and didn’t have a game that Friday. “I can come.” 

“I would love that.” 

“I want to be there to support you.” She supported him through so many things, he was glad he could return the favor. “I can invite some of the guys?” 

“Only if you want,” she said, feeling a little taken aback. “If you’re okay with them seeing the drawings.”

“It’s nothing they haven’t seen before,” he said with a laugh, “and I want them to know how talented my girlfriend is.” 

“Oh, am I your girlfriend now?” she asked, teasing.

If it were up to him, she’d be his wife before too long. “Yes. Finally.” 

She giggled, “I never thought I’d actually get to call you my boyfriend.” 

The excitement in her voice pulled a giddy feeling in his stomach. 

Someone knocked on the window above him, and Nico sat up, startled. Jack was on the other side of the glass, exaggeratedly asking him if he wanted to go into the city.

“Hey, I’m sorry, I have to go,” he said, nodding at Jack. 

“Okay, I’ll talk to you soon?” she said it like a question. 

“Yeah. I’ll call you tomorrow?” 

“That sounds great.” 

He could hear the smile in her voice, and it filled his chest with a warm, buoyant feeling. Turning away from the window, he said, “I love you.” 

“I love you too, Nico. Good luck tonight. I’ll be watching.”

Lena hung up the phone, shaking her head. She'd gone into that call expecting phone sex, and instead, she got emotional reassurance. How was he even real?

He hung up the phone, grinning.

“What’s got you all cheery? Who was on the phone?”

“Lena,” he said, slipping the device into his pocket. 

“Dude, you’ve got to make a move.” 

Nico smiled to himself. He’d tell Jack and the guys eventually, but for now, he was just reveling in the fact that he had, and it turned out better than he ever imagined. 

The photo haunted him for the rest of the road trip. It wasn't even the picture itself, which did live in his mind rent free, and he'd jerked off to at least three times. No, the thing that really haunted him was the fact that she sent it in the first place, that she felt comfortable enough to send it, that she wanted him thinking about and desperate for her. And he was desperate, in a way he'd never experienced before. 

He wanted her to feel the same way, but knew from experience that she didn't like dick pics. 

In a fit of indignation after receiving one on a dating app, she'd handed him her phone to unmatch the guy as she told him, “I don’t know why men think everyone wants to see their dick. I can promise you, no one wants to see your dick. Unless a woman tells you, ‘send me a picture of your penis,’ she doesn't want to see it. Even if she sent you a picture to get off to, she doesn’t want to watch you do it unless she asks for it.” 

He'd asked her what a woman did want. 

“Send her a picture of your hands or your forearm while you’re doing something. Men's forearms are sexy.”

So he'd done just that. A video, actually, strategically cropped to show the flex of his forearm and wrist as he got himself off in their next hotel while her name fell from his lips over and over again. He didn't even need to look at his phone anymore. The photo was burned into his brain and etched onto his eyelids. 

She responded within minutes of him sending it. That's the sexiest thing a man has ever sent me, Nico. I can't believe you remembered. 

The video popped into her mind all the time. She couldn't stop thinking about his big hands and the veins winding up his forearm, standing out under his skin. She couldn’t stop hearing the hushed, breathy way he moaned her name.

It even happened in school if she let her mind wander, which resulted in her creaming her underwear and having to clench her legs together until the feeling eased off.

Touché, Mr. Hishier. Touché.

Four days later, Nico walked into the apartment, surprised to find lights still on. It was Friday night, but still, Lena usually went to bed early. No matter the day, her biological clock kept a rigid schedule. 

Perhaps she left the lights on when she went to sleep, not wanting him to come home to a dark house. As he walked through the living room, however, he found her on the couch, asleep with Cookie tucked against her like a little spoon. 

“Lena?” he asked, squatting in front of her.  

She didn’t even stir. 

“Lena,” he repeated, gently brushing a lock of hair off her forehead.

He loved this simple version of her - the peaceful, soft lines of her face and the gentle curve of her mouth. Her nose ring was slightly off center with her on her side, but it still fit on her face like it was a permanent feature that had always been there. When she showed up in Bern, having had it done just a few weeks previous, it had taken him a full half hour to realize what was different. It fit her and her personality so well, it didn’t stand out as a major change in his mind. 

He hadn’t thought it was possible he could think about kissing her more than he already did. 

“Nico?” she asked in the most adorable sleepy voice he’d ever heard. The visions he had of waking up next to her were suddenly much more real and much sweeter than he originally imagined. 

“What are you doing out here, hase?”

Her eyes finally fluttered open, and her stomach clenched when they met his. His hair had flopped into his eyes, but she could still clearly see the soft care in them. He was in a gray Devils hoodie that looked supremely soft.

Cookie stretched, yawned, and slinked out from under her arm as she reached forward to trace her fingers through his hair, pushing it back. “You’re so handsome, Nico.”

The dimple in his left cheek deepened with his bashful smile. He wasn’t used to her complimenting him so openly. “Danke, hase. What are you doing out here?” 

“Waiting up for you,” she said with a chagrined smile, “or trying to at least.” 

“Lets get you to bed,” he said, standing before he worked an arm under her legs, the other under her shoulders, and lifted her off the couch.

Lena snuggled into him with a contented little noise. She hadn't been carried like this since she was a little kid. 

He lay her on her bed, then pulled the covers out from under her body before settling them over her. 

“Will you stay?” she asked, quietly.

Something behind his sternum fractured a little. “Natürlich,” he murmured, brushing a kiss over her hair. “Let me go get ready, ja?”

She nodded. 

Nico thought for sure she would be asleep when he got back after washing his face and changing into some pajama pants, but though she was still in the same position he left her in, her eyes were open and she gave him an adorably sleepy smile. 

In some sort of dream came true, he walked around the bed to slip in behind her. 

Except Cookie was laying there, pressed against her back, blinking at him slowly as if to ask why Nico was there and what he thought he was about to do. 

“Uh,” he began, not sure what to do. 

“Just move him over here.”

So Nico took the cat around the middle and lifted him over Lena. He squirmed and made a grumbling noise but didn’t swipe. Before he could jump off the bed in a fit of indignation, Lena gathered him against her chest and kissed his head. 

Cookie grumbled again. It was apparently all for show, though, because he settled in her arms almost at once and began purring and nuzzling her chin. 

Now that that was settled, he lifted the covers and slid under them.

Lena felt a contented little sigh escape her as he fitted his body against hers. The oxymoron that was Nico Hischier hit her again. He was big and strong, but he was so gentle and warm as he wrapped his arm around her waist over the blanket. She felt cocooned and protected. 

Cookie turned around and nuzzled his head under Nico’s hand. Chuckling, Nico scratched behind his ears and heard the purring start up again. 

“I’m glad you're home,” Lena said in that slow way people do while they’re falling asleep. 

“Me too,” he responded, tucking his nose into her hair and settling in for the night. 

Though he’d lived the past week, it still felt a little like he didn’t know how he ended up here, or like he should be dreaming. Yes, he dreamed of making love to Lena, but more often than that, he dreamed of these things: of not going to bed alone, of taking care of her, and being taken care of. Not only was he not going to bed alone, she asked him to stay. He felt comfortable holding her, and she felt comfortable enough to lean against him, letting him support her. More than anything else, it felt incredible to be genuine about his feelings and to have them lead to this moment. 

It was the best thing he could have asked for. 

The fatigue that always came with coming home from a road trip caught up with him abruptly, and before he could think about anything else, he was falling asleep. 

Lena woke before Nico did. Which wasn’t unusual. She almost always woke before anyone else in the house. No matter when she’d gone to bed, or what she’d done the day before, she was almost always up before 6:30. It’s why she’d been so shocked to find it was already 9 the morning after their portraiture session. 

Her watch told her it was twenty-two minutes past six. 

Sensing movement, Cookie stretched and put his face in hers, brushing his whiskers over her cheeks. 

She wrinkled her nose at the tickling sensation. “Okay,” she whispered as he put his wet nose to her brow and licked with the tip of his tongue, “okay.” 

Nico’s arm was still heavy around her waist, but he only stirred a little when she lifted it so she could slide out of bed. 

She fed the cat, drank a glass of water, and went back to the bedroom. 

Nico was still asleep, now sprawled on his back, legs and arms spread wide to take up as much room as possible.

The blankets only covered part of his naked torso. Allowing herself a moment, she admired him, the steady rise and fall of his chest, the relaxed set of his fingers, his slightly open mouth. He was a beautiful man. the fact he was in her bed, that he'd held her all night, made her feel as giddy as a school girl.

Sneaking back into bed was always harder than leaving it. 

She’d just managed to tuck herself into his side, resting her head on his chest, when his arm curled around her back. 

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you,” she said quietly. 

His lips smacked softly. “S’okay,” he mumbled. 

“Do you have practice this morning?” 

She felt him shake his head, chin tracing over the top of her hair at the movement. 

“No practice and no game?” she asked, tracing a finger up the valley between his pecs through the course hair that had been getting thicker through the years. “What are you going to do with yourself?” 

Tightening his arm around her, he nudged Lena on top. She went willingly, draping herself over him. 

“Can think of a few things.” His voice was low and sleepy, and when she looked into his face, she found his eyes were still closed.  

Wonder at how comfortable they were filled her. Of course they were — they’d known each other for more than half a decade. But all these milestones, like waking up in the same bed, were new. She’d never experienced this in a relationship before. There were no nerves eating at her stomach, and no worries about how she looked in the morning plaguing her. He’d seen her in much worse morning states before and never said a thing. It was just Nico, comfortable as always. 

Lying her head on the front of his shoulder, she listened to the steady beat of his heart and the strong rhythm of his breathing. 

That music was lulling her back to sleep when his hand slid up her back, under her sleep shirt. She didn’t know if that part was intentional or not. She supposed it didn’t matter. She still savored the feel of his calloused fingers. 

“Your skin is so soft,” he mumbled as his fingers splayed wide over her spine. 

“So is yours,” she said, adjusting a bit so she could tuck her nose into the base of his neck. He smelled the same as usual, soap and sweat, and that something cedar-y, plus a musky smell she somehow knew only came with sleep.

He chuckled and said something in German. 

“Come again?” she asked, lifting her head. 

One half of his mouth lifted in a smile, dimpling his cheek, but he didn’t offer any other explanation. 

Shaking her head, Lena rested her ear against his shoulder again, sighing when his fingers traced lazily up and down her spine.

Nico couldn’t believe this was his life. Waking up next to Lena was so good. Having her comfortable weight on top of him on a lazy morning? It was such a dream. Even the very fact that he got to touch her like this now felt like a miracle. 

Before he could think it over, his sleepy brain was running his mouth, “I can’t…” 

“You can’t?” she repeated. Her other hand came up to trace the straight line of his collar bone. 

“I can’t believe I get to touch you like this,” he said. 

She smiled and turned her face just enough to press her lips to his skin. It sent an explosion of fizzy, giddy bubbles racing through his stomach. 

“I should have told you sooner.” 

“Me too.” 

Each of them had said some variation of these same sentences each time they’d talked on the phone over the past five days.

“But we’re here now,” she said, fingers trailing over the round musculature of his shoulder and back. She felt a little amazed that she could touch him, too. She’d wanted to for so long, and now, she could. There was nothing holding her back. It felt a little like she’d dropped into a dream.

He took in a deep breath, and she loved feeling his muscles move and shift beneath her. 

“What do you have today?” he asked. 

“Nothing.” 

“Nothing?” he repeated. 

“Nothing but you,” she said, pushing herself up so she could look into his face. 

The smile he gave her was lazy and tired, but it still sent butterflies into flight in her stomach. 

Because she could, because that’s where they were now, she leaned down and kissed him. 

His other hand came up to cradle the back of her head.  

She was kissing him. In the morning. After sleeping next to her all night. Feeling his brain come to life while her sweet mouth was on his? There was nothing better. Nico wouldn't mind waking up like this every morning.

They spent a long while in a sweet, lazy exploration of each other. 

Lena worked one of her hands into his hair as she tipped to the left to deepen the kiss. 

When Nico caught her tongue, sucking gently, a soft moan fell from her mouth into his.  She'd never had someone do that before, and now couldn't imagine kissing without it. 

“I love that sound,” he mumbled, lips whispering over hers. 

She hmm’d and silenced him again with her mouth.

Though they still remained soft, their kisses grew more urgent, as did Nico’s growing erection, which pressed insistently against her thigh. 

The deep desire purring in her belly shifted into a higher gear. 

“Can I use my mouth on you?”

She'd been thinking about it for so long, imagining the pleasured noises she could pull out of him. She’d thought about it so many times while he was gone, she couldn’t wait to bring it to fruition.  The memory of the way he groaned her name when she was touching him had been the fuel for many lonely night sessions with her vibrator.

“Was?” he breathed, certain he hadn't heard her correctly. 

“Can I use my mouth on you?” She repeated, trailing kisses along his jaw for good measure.

Fuck. 

FUCK. 

Was this his real life? He pinched his side and flinched from the pain. He wasn't dreaming, then. Not that he’d really thought that. When he dreamed of her going down on him, it usually started with her lips wrapping around him, not with her asking permission. 

His eyes fluttered open to meet hers. “Has anyone ever said no?”

Her cheeks flushed. “I don't know. This is the first time I've asked. Every other guy I’ve been with requested before I could offer.”

“Did you think I would say no?”

“Maybe? Sometimes, I'm just not in the mood for stuff, you know? I don't want to just start in on something you're not ready for. That's not fair to you.”

He'd never had someone ask before, and the sweet thoughtfulness of it broke him open a little more to her. 

“Only if you want to,” he whispered, leaning up to brush his lips over hers, “and only if I can return the favor.”

Her breath hitched, and her wide eyes darted to his. 

“I’ve been thinking about how you taste since last week,” he confessed, voice gone gravely with the memory of cleaning her release off his fingers.

“Nico,” she whispered as heat pooled between her legs.

“When you sent that picture, I couldn’t stop thinking about what I wanted to do to you.”

“Oh yeah?” 

He nodded, hands sliding up her sides. Her shirt bunched atop his wrists. 

She leaned down so her lips were a breath away from his ear, “and what do you want to do to me?”

Though she had him practically panting, his voice somehow still came out a low tambour. “I want to lick you over that lace before I take it off and make you come on my tongue.”

“Oh my god,” she whispered, core throbbing at the mere thought of it. “I…” 

If someone told her, even just five days ago, that Nico Hischier had such a dirty mouth, Lena wouldn’t have believed them. He was usually so polite. She’d never even imagined him saying something like that.  

She liked this filthy-mouthed side of him she’d never seen before. Why had she waited so damn long to tell him?

Rolling them onto their sides, he pressed his lips to her neck, unable to keep his mouth off of her anymore.

“Do you want me —” her voice dropped into a moan as he pushed her onto her back, licking and sucking along the column of her throat. 

“Yes,” he growled into her skin, “so damn much.” 

“Do you want me to put it on?” she finally managed to ask, gasping the words out before he could steal her breath again.

Lifting his head, his brown eyes met hers. He had that same wide open, loving look in them. “Put what on?” 

Why would she put anything on? He was far more interested in shedding her clothes.

“The lingerie.” 

Oh. 

Well. 

That was a bit different. 

Lena watched his eyes go dark with lust. 

“You’d do that?” he whispered, touched and incredibly turned on.

Nodding, she bit her lip before deciding she could just blurt it out, “I want you to do what you wanted to, and I want to see your reaction.” 

Now that he’d brought up the idea of licking her over her underwear which, what the hell, sounded so hot she could hardly stand it, she needed to feel it. She wanted THAT to be her first experience with his mouth. 

Nico was such an excellent kisser, she knew he would be good at oral. Plus, the idea of wrapping her fingers in his hair as he went down on her? That fantasy had been in regular rotation for years. 

He paused, seemingly caught between saying yes and just continuing as they were. 

Maybe he needed a little more incentive. “What if I put it on to suck you off?” she asked, voice seductive and low in his ear. 

With a soft groan, he buried his face in her neck. He had to admit, fulfilling the initial fantasy that had flooded his mind when she sent that picture was incredibly tempting, and if it included her wearing it to go down on him? That was a fantasy in and of itself. He couldn't find his voice, but he nodded all the same. 

“Meet you in your room in five minutes?” she suggested. 

Five minutes felt like an eternity when she was under him now, but he knew they would be worth it. 

“Okay,”

A few minutes later, she knocked on his doorframe, and he spun. She had a soft looking robe on. Green with matching lace trim. 

He looked almost instantly disappointed. 

“I thought you might want to take it off,” she offered quietly, taking a few steps toward him.

He was still just in his pajama pants, the band of his boxers peeking above the waistband. God, why was that always so sexy? 

Though he appreciated the gesture, Nico shook his head. 

Stopping abruptly, Lena confirmed, “no?” 

Shaking his head again, Nico managed to clear his throat and tell her, “want you to.”

Fingers trembling with excitement, she pulled one end of the tie, slipping it from the bow. 

This was an exercise in a kind of vulnerability Lena had never experienced before. Yes, Nico was her best friend, and she trusted him with her life, but she’d never undressed in front of someone like this. This wasn’t just about seduction. This was about bearing herself to a man she loved and who she knew loved her. There was anticipation, but no nervousness, longing, but no worry. There was love and more love and more love under that. She’d never felt like that before.

This wasn’t some kind of strip tease meant to thrill. No, she was bearing a piece of her soul.

Nico found he was holding his breath and made himself pull air into his lungs. 

Lena grasped the two sides of the robe and pulled them apart until they slipped over her shoulders. The fabric puddled to the floor around her feet. 

 A noise he couldn’t control flew out of his mouth. God, if he thought she looked beautiful in the picture, it was nothing compared to this. To the reality of her standing in front of him. She was real — supple skin and hazel eyes and curves he wanted to spend his entire life traversing — right down to her hands, which were splayed over the flesh of her hips as if she didn’t know what else to do with them. 

She was…she was a goddess. He would worship her every day of the week. “You’re so beautiful, Lena,” he croaked.

“Thank you,” she said, a blush pinking her cheeks. 

“Can you —” he had to pause to clear his throat. 

She nodded encouragingly. 

“Can I see the back?” 

She let out a little giggle and turned for him, looking back over her shoulder.

The back of the bra was fairly standard - straps and a band that was secured by a row of hooks. The underwear were anything but. They cut high on her cheeks and perfectly accentuated the curvature of her hips. His jaw went slack. 

This was a better response than she could have asked for. When she’d bought this set, one of the selling points was how good the panties made her ass look. Having Nico appreciate it to the point of open mouthed silence, sent a delighted thrill through her. 

“Now you?” she said, turning back around and nodding at his pants.

Taking a deep breath, he worked his thumbs under the waistband of his pajamas. Pushing the elastic over his hips, the cotton fell down, and he stepped out of it. 

Lena let out a thick sigh, eyes roaming over him, from the bob of his Adam’s apple and flex of his stomach to the dark hair trailing from his belly button into the elastic band of his briefs and the lighter hair that crept up his thighs. She'd seen all these things before as an artist, but now, she was seeing them as a woman. She didn't have to stuff down her desire or try to channel it through her pencil. She got to admire him as a woman who wanted him. 

When their eyes met again, his were nervous, as if waiting for a verdict. Instead of saying anything, she took the few steps forward, slid her hand to the back of his neck, and nudged him down as she raised herself on tiptoe. 

Their lips met, and that feeling of rightness filled Lena again. As her tongue swept into his waiting mouth, she pressed herself against him. 

Taking the time to savor the feel of the lace beneath his palms, Nico caressed her hips slowly before sliding them around to cradle her rump. 

She broke the kiss, and his hands were suddenly sliding up her body as she lowered onto her knees in front of him. “Shit, Lena,” he breathed. 

A coy, sexy smile took over her face, and Lena leaned in to press her lips to his right thigh. The muscle jumped beneath his skin.

“Wait.” 

Pulling back to sit on her haunches, Lena looked up at him, surprised. No man had ever told her to stop when she was setting up to suck him off. 

Half of Nico’s brain was in his dick, but he needed to get this right. “I went first last time,” he said.

“It’s not like we have to take turns.” 

“I know, but I want to give first.” When she didn’t move, he added on a slightly desperate, “please.” 

She nodded, and he took her hands to pull her to her feet. They turned so her back was facing the bed, and he smiled indulgently at the way she had to do a little hop to sit on the mattress. 

“Lay back,” he said. 

She scooted up to the pillows and did as he instructed.

She was a fantasy in his dark sheets. 

Biting his lip, he paused to admire her for a moment before climbing onto the bed and covering her body with his. As their mouths met in a passionate, desperate kiss, he settled between her legs. He rutted his hips into her, and she moaned. The sound made him heady, and he did it again just to hear it. If they kept that up, he would be begging her to let him fuck her right then. But he knew from fingering her the week before that she would need to be relaxed and stretched a bit before she could take him comfortably. Plus, now that she was in his bed in this lingerie, he had to bring his desires to life. And he really fucking wanted his mouth on her. 

He broke from the kiss and trailed his lips over her chin and down her neck and chest. Too impatient to wait, his mouth found her pebbled nipple, teasing it through the fabric of her bra. 

Lena had never felt anything so hot in her life. Her hands wove into his hair, and she moaned. “Nico. Oh my god.”

He moved on too quickly, but before she could complain, his lips were skimming over her stomach, down to the band of her panties. The memory of his confession crashed into her mind. 

I want to lick you over that lace before I take it off and make you come on my tongue.

She writhed beneath him.

He nosed her mound gently, playfully, and glanced up to her face. “This is still okay?” 

“Yes!” she hissed, voice pulled tight. “Please, Nico.”

Who was he to deny what she wanted? 

Spreading her thighs with his hands, he leaned in and trailed his nose up the gusset of her underwear. His mouth started to water. Shit, she smelled so good. 

He couldn’t hold back any longer. His tongue met the lace, licking a slow stripe up the center. He could almost taste her through the fabric. The sweet, tangy flavor he'd been craving for a week was so close. 

Lena could almost feel him. There was pressure, and the heat from his breath was there, but the full stimulation of his tongue wasn't. Experiencing him like this was so hot, the anticipation of feeling him built and built until it felt like she may just explode. She let out a wanton moan of his name.

He teased her until her hips were grinding up, and her breathing was coming out in hot puffs. He teased her until he couldn’t take it anymore. 

She whined when he pulled back but cut the noise off when his fingers slipped into the band of her underwear and started pulling it down. Desperate to please, she lifted her hips, allowing him to peel them from her body more easily.

He took his time, running his hands down her legs, and when the fabric was free, he brought it to his nose just to work himself up a little more. His dick twitched.

“Fuck,” she whispered. Who knew her polite, cheerful Nico had this side to him? 

He almost wished he was still wearing pants so he could slip her panties into his pocket. Instead, he tossed them over the side of the bed. He’d pick them up later. 

Settling between her legs again, he looked up to meet her gaze over the expanse of her body. Propped up on her elbows, her chest rose and fell, testing the limits of her bra with every inhale. He could hardly stand it.

“You’re so fucking beautiful.”

She blushed. How did he know exactly what to say? Could he read her thoughts or something? 

“You’ll tell me if you don’t like something,” he verified, “or if you want something else?” 

Only after she nodded did he get to work, plunging his face between her thighs like he’d been dreaming of for years. 

A sense of deep satisfaction rumbled in his chest when she cried out.

She tasted the same, like he remembered, and better: sweet and tangy and fresh. It was just so Lena. He couldn't get enough. He licked and kissed and teased and tasted.

Falling back against his pillows, Lena moaned his name. 

Her left hand found its way into his hair again, weaving the long, soft strands through her fingers. The reality of this fantasy coming true made her shake as much as his clever tongue did. 

He moved to lap at her entrance, which was not where she wanted him at all.

“Nico, I –” her voice cut off with a moan as his nose nudged her clit. 

Fuck it. Tightening her fingers into a fist, she tugged on his hair, guiding his mouth where she needed it.

He grunted into her as his lips surrounded her throbbing pearl, so eager for his attention.

“There,” her voice was a breathy pant that made his heart race, “right there, Nico.” 

Hands tightening on her thighs, he feasted. 

Her hips shifted, and even though it made it near impossible for him to breathe, he kept on, intent on his mission. 

“Suck.” 

It took half a second for his brain to understand her word as a command. He obeyed, and the groan she let out made him light headed. Or maybe that was the lack of oxygen. It didn’t matter. There was no way he was stopping until she was falling apart beneath him. 

He thought briefly about using his fingers, but no. He wanted to make her come like this first. 

His lips and tongue continued working their magic on her. Pressure built and tingled in her pelvis until it spread, shooting down her legs and making her toes curl. 

“Nico,” she gasped. 

When he glanced up, he found her right hand cupping her breast, thumb and forefinger teasing the peak of her nipple through the lace of her bra. The sight of it — of her adding to her own pleasure — made his eyes roll back. 

The vibration of his groan lit her on fire. It was the final push she needed to tip over the edge. 

She crashed in an explosion of color and sound as his eager mouth kept working, sending wave after wave of ecstasy rushing through her body.

The pleasured noises she chanted were the most beautiful music he’d ever heard. She pulsed under his mouth, and he lapped at her release. He wanted to drink from her fountain for the rest of his life. 

Coming back to herself, Lena pushed him away from her core before the overstimulation could turn into pain. 

The sight of him — eyes hooded with desire, mouth and chin wet with her orgasm — made her moan again as he pushed himself up. 

Nico felt drunk. Drunk on her pleasure and the fact that he’d been the one to pull it out of her. 

He licked his lips, pulling more of her release into his mouth before wiping his face with the back of his hand.

He lay next to her and slid his hand over her stomach, letting it come to rest comfortably cupping her breast.

Lena was flat on her back, trying to get her breathing back to a normal rhythm. 

“Oh my god,” she finally managed to gasp. 

“It was good?” he asked. 

“Yes!” she smacked his chest when she said it. “I don’t… I mean…” 

He smiled as she tried to find the words. 

Turning her head, she met his gaze. “I never knew you were so nasty.” 

“I wasn’t mean,” he defended, hurt that she was accusing him. 

“No, like kinky.” 

He hated this part of speaking English. Why did so many words have so many different meanings that they already had words for?

“It’s kinky that I like the way you smell and taste?” 

“I’ve never — I mean no one has ever…”

“It was my first time with you,” he said, nuzzling his nose into her neck. “I’ve been thinking about it for a long time. I wanted to savor it.”

“Speaking of, I think it’s your turn,” she said coyly, pressing a hand to his shoulder. She shoved, and he flopped onto his back without protest. 

She climbed over him, straddling his torso. 

Finally feeling the weight of her on top of him was heaven. She was tethering him down to earth. 

Her hot wetness against his skin made him twitch. He couldn't wait to bury himself inside her. Just imagining how tight and wet she'd feel around him made him moan.  

“I haven't even touched you yet,” she smirked. 

“I want you so bad.” The words slipped out in German. He started to translate, but she cut him off. 

“I got the idea,” she said seductively as she leaned down to kiss him. She could taste herself on his lips and tongue as she did her best to work him up with her mouth alone.  

The way he moaned sent a bolt of desire through her. Unable to stop herself, she rutted her hips against the hard wall of his stomach. 

He choked out a curse, head tipping back into the pillows. 

Taking advantage, she connected her mouth to his throat, feeling his Adams apple move under her lips as he swallowed hard. 

“Lena.” 

She moved to the other side of his neck. 

His hands slipped to her hips, desperate to touch her. 

As she slid down his body, her core passed over his, causing gentle pressure on his cock through the confining material of his boxers. His hips thrust up, desperate for more. 

Bracing on his chest, Lena pushed herself up and ground her hips down on his. 

Lashes fluttering, his eyes rolled back, and he gripped her hips with more ferocity. 

She’d never had this kind of power over a man before. It made her heady with the want to tease him until he begged.

“Lena,” he groaned, almost as if in pain. 

“Hmm?”

“I’m —” he gasped as she reached around, unclasped her bra, and took it off. She threw it across the room.

“I’m gonna come if you keep doing that,” he warned as she rocked against him.

“Is that so bad?” she asked, her voice thrown into mock innocence. 

“I — fuck.” She was riling him up and he loved it. “Want to feel your mouth,” he finally managed to say. 

“What if I want to hear you beg?”

His eyes shot open, pupils blown wide. Her tone was playful, as were her eyes, and mirth dripped from her smile. He knew if he said he didn’t like it, she’d stop right away. Except, with her on top of him, he found he was ready to do whatever she wanted. 

“Lena.” 

“Hmm?” 

“Fuck, Lena. Please.” If she wanted him to beg, he’d beg. 

“Please what?” she asked innocently, lowering her mouth over his nipple. He twitched against her as her tongue circled the small peak before flicking over the top of it. 

His breath practically huffed out of his lungs. 

“I want your mouth,” he groaned. “Please.”

“You do have very good manners,” she complimented, pushing herself up again. 

They were going to go out the window if she didn't do something soon. “Please.”

If he didn’t know her sliding further down his body likely meant he would feel her mouth soon, he would have whined at the loss of stimulation. 

Once she found herself over his legs, Lena leaned down to kiss that trail of dark hair that wound its way down the center of his abs and dipped into the waistband of his boxer briefs. 

“Can I take these off?” she asked as her fingers tucked under the elastic. 

“Please,” bracing on his heels, he thrust his hips up so she could remove them, breathing a sigh of relief when his cock sprung free of the confining material. 

“How do you like it?” she asked, hands caressing up his thighs. 

He gulped. “I —” 

“Or do you just want me to start, and you can tell me if you don’t like something?” 

He nodded vigorously. The thing he wanted most was for her to just put her mouth on him. He’d dreamed of it so many times, and now, here she was, leaning over him. 

The guttural groan that tore from his chest as Lena wrapped her lips around the head of his cock surprised them both. Her eyes shot up to look at his face, making sure he wasn’t in pain. His eyes were glued to her, wide with adoration and lust. The sight of her with her lips around him — he could die a happy man. 

“You feel so good,” he groaned. 

She loved that when he got worked up, his accent thickened.

 One of her hands was braced on his thigh, while the other swept up to cradle his balls, stroking the sensitive skin with her thumb.

The only thing Nico could do was chant her name. Every time he tried to say something else, she did something new, hollowing her cheeks, or sensuously licking the tip, or moving her mouth to the underside of his cock so her open lips traced the vein there, the tip of her tongue whispering between them. 

When her lips wrapped around him again, he was gone. “Gonna –-”  he only managed to get that one word out before he was exploding into her hot, heavenly mouth.

She squeaked in surprise but relished sucking his release off and feeling it slide down her throat. 

She lay beside him, watching Nico gasping in breaths, contented to have brought out this side of him. 

“Holy shit,” he said. 

“It was good?” she asked, repeating his earlier question and trying not to giggle. 

Turning his head, he glanced at her, one eyebrow raised. 

Before either of them could respond, her stomach grumbled loudly. 

Her eyes widened, and her hand flew to cover it, “Sorry, I’ve usually eaten by this time.”

“You don't need to apologize,” he said, laughing. 

“Why aren’t you all grumbly?” she asked. 

“I…ate a protein bar while you were getting changed,” he admitted. 

“You – what? And you didn't even think to share?” she demanded, playfully shoving away from him. “Some boyfriend you are.”

He smiled at being called her boyfriend,  even through the insult. 

“Sharing your food is like boyfriend 101.”

“I did order breakfast,” he offered. 

“When?”  

“Last night. It should be here in,” he glanced at the clock on his nightstand, “fifteen minutes. I kind of forgot how early you wake up.”

“Nico Hischier,” she said, voice full of teasing admonition as she crawled over him, “did you plan to seduce me this morning?”

He grinned, and she laughed as he pulled her down. She bounced on his chest. “Maybe I did. Aren't you glad I at least planned ahead?”

Pulling back to look into his face, her smile was soft and full of love. “Yes,” she said, leaning down to kiss him. “Yes, I am.” 

While waiting for breakfast to arrive, they made out, slowly and passionately, hands tracing each others bodies with a reverent tenderness Lena had always dreamed of. 

He was already stiff against her thigh again. It seemed impossible he could be nearly ready to go so soon after coming. He really did have the body of a God. 

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, and he pulled away reluctantly. 

“That’s breakfast,” he said. 

“Guess we should go get it,” she said, though she didn’t make any moves to get off of him. 

“I’ll go,” he said, pressing a quick kiss to her pouty, over-kissed mouth, “you stay here.” 

She watched as he threw on a new pair of boxers, some joggers, and a t-shirt before strolling out of the apartment. 

“Have you seen my underwear?” she asked when he came back through the door, a bag from her favorite bagel shop in one hand, and two coffees in a carrier in the other. 

“Hu?” he asked, slipping the coffees onto the table. 

“My underwear,” she said. “I couldn’t find them in your room.” 

“Weird,” he said, hoping she wouldn’t pick up on the hot flush of his cheeks. 

“Do you have them?” she asked. When all he responded with was a non-committal grunt, she surmised, “they’re in your pocket, aren’t they?”

He couldn’t keep the little smile off of his face. 

She rolled her eyes and took the iced coffee. “It’s a good thing I love you.” 

His smile grew brighter, and he handed her her sandwich. 

“No one’s ever made me feel like you do, Nico.”

 He’d just been telling her he felt like he won the lottery, and she wanted to assure him she felt the same. 

“Like no ones made you come?” he asked, licking ketchup off his thumb.

“No. Well, I mean, yes. You’re better because you listen —”

A smug smile took over his face. 

“I mean that you accept me. Like all of me. That hadn’t really happened in my life before you.” 

His brows shot up.

“I don’t think my family really knew what to do with me,” she said, picking up the other half of her ham and egg sandwich. 

“What do you mean?” 

“They’re all sporty, you know, and I’m…not. I’ve always been this creative free spirit, and I think my parents were at a bit of a loss when I was so bad at skating and said I wanted to take drawing lessons instead.”

“They love your art, though.” Nico had met her parents, and both of them seemed extremely proud of her. 

“They’re better now, but when I was in primary school, and even up to the point that you came in, it always felt a bit like they resented that I had these talents.” 

“Resented?” he asked. 

“Yeah, like they wished I was more like the rest of the family.”

His brows drew together. 

“And don’t get me started on the boys on the team.” 

“Everyone really liked you. I think every guy on the team had a crush on you.” All the more reason to feel contented he had her now.

“Listen, you don’t get it.”

“Don’t I?” 

“No. You were always good at sport and popular, right?” 

He made a non-commital noise. Popularity in North America was very different from how he grew up. There was much more comparison than he ever experienced. 

“I was always the artsy girl in a place that worships sports.”

“But you came to sports?”

“Yeah,” one of her shoulders shrugged up, “I came to support my friends, but they hardly ever came to things to support me. I remember Robbie told me once, ‘I don’t have enough culture for that,’ when I invited him to an art show I had some pieces in.” 

Robbie had been their goalie, who had brought Lena into the friend group. He and Jessica were now married and had several children. 

Nico’s heart broke a little. 

“And then you came in and not only did you not treat me like the only thing I was good for was being looked at, you knew some things about art, and you actually talked to me about it.”

In fact, She still vividly remembered her first encounter with Nico. 

She’d been sitting on the refreshments counter at the rink, drawing in her ever-present sketchbook while Jessica puttered around the tiny kitchen. He’d walked up to her, asked if he could see, and said, “that’s very good,” when she showed him.

She’d blushed and thanked him, and he asked where she learned to draw. 

Jessica had interjected then, bragging about Lena’s painting skills, and telling him he should come see them at the school the next time he was there.

He’d then given Lena his trademark dimpled smile and said he would. 

She was used to this. Boys said this all the time, but then would never actually show. 

Lo and behold, three days later, she was shocked to find Nico outside the art classroom after school, studying one of her paintings Mr. Jacobsen had hung in the hallway. 

“Hey Nico.”

He startled a little, “hi, Lena. You did this, right?” 

She nodded. 

“It’s very good. I like the shape,” he said, then frowned, shaking his head slightly, “not the shape. The,” he gestured with his hands as if dividing the three sections of the painting, the sky, forrest and field. “What’s the word for this?” he asked, repeating the gesture. 

“The composition?” she guessed. 

“Yes, the composition,” he said, relieved that she understood what he was trying to say. “I like that the sky is bigger. It feels like that here.” 

“Thank you.” It was exactly what she’d been aiming for. 

“You’re very talented,” he said, turning to look at her. He met her eyes and smiled. 

“Thank you,” she said again, wishing she had some other way to respond to his compliments. She didn’t have much experience with the nice, cute boy in school talking to her about art and pulling out words like composition and knowing how to use them properly in a sentence. 

It had started their friendship. It was amazing how that simple interaction of him following through made her feel. Not only seen in so many ways, but also that it kicked the budding crush she had on him into hyperdrive. She’d never met another man like him. 

Pink splotches rose high on his cheeks, and he gave her a chagrined smile. 

“What?” she asked, laughing. 

“I didn’t know much about art,” he said. “I went home and looked it up so I could talk to you about it.”

His confession made her heart burst, “really?” 

He nodded, “you were passionate about it, and I wanted to know you, so I had to learn so we could talk.”

“Nico, I can’t believe you did that for me.” 

He blushed and smiled some more. 

“How are you even real?” she asked, reaching out to run her fingers through his hair. 

It called up memories of not that long ago when she had her fingers tangled in his hair for a different reason. “Real?” he asked. 

“You’re like a dream,” she said, hand slipping to cup his jaw. “Kind and thoughtful and dedicated, and handsome to boot. It’s like you’re too perfect to be real.” 

He laughed, loud and open. He couldn’t think of anyone further from perfect than himself. 

After their meal and brushing their teeth, Nico spent some more time between her legs, eating a second and third breakfast, using his beautiful hands to aid in bringing her to a crest twice more. 

“Fuck,” she breathed as he lay next to her, “how did you get so good at that?” 

He laughed, wiping his face with his hand. “I don’t know. I listen.” 

“You listen?” she repeated. 

“Yeah, you make this little ‘uh,’” he imitated a high pitched grunt, “noise when you feel good, so I do whatever I just did again when you make it.” 

Rolling onto her side, she looked at him, “I do?” 

He nodded. 

“When did you notice that?” 

“Last week. You told me what to do and then made that noise when I did it. So I tired it again,” he said with a shrug and a secret little smile.

She knew Nico was used to noticing things other people didn’t. It’s what made him a good hockey player. He noticed and noted things about players and teams and used them to put together his best game possible. He even noticed things about her - like the fact that she liked pistachio flavored things, and liked to paint on the right side of the living room and that she liked a margarita. She couldn't remember ever telling him these things, but he had pistachio creamer in his fridge, moved the living room furniture around, and brought her a margarita whenever they went out together. 

“You’re something else, Nico Hischier,” Lena said, bringing her hand up to the side of his face. 

He smiled, nuzzling his cheek into her palm. 

“What do you want?” he asked. He wanted her, but if she wanted more foreplay, he would give it to her. He just wanted her to be happy. 

Scooting closer, she slung a leg over his hip. She held eye contact as she said, “I want you to make love to me, Nico.” 

His hand slid onto her thigh, up to her hip, and over the curve of her waist in a reverent exploration. “How do you want it? Like, what position?” he asked. 

“Missionary,” she said, her fingers tracing over his collar bone and onto his chest. “I want to see you.” 

It struck him as a tender thing for her to request, and he was glad for it. He wanted to see her, too. They could try more intense positions later. For now, that was how it needed to be. 

“Where are you going?” she asked when he rolled away from her. 

He glanced back at her with a cheeky smile. “Eager,” he teased with a lingering scan of her body as he reached into the drawer of his bedside table. 

She snorted. 

“I’m getting a condom,” he said, holding up the foil wrapped package once he’d dug one out. 

“Oh,” she said. “I have an IUD if you don’t want to.” 

His next breath came shallow. 

“I mean, unless you’re not clean. I haven’t had unprotected sex since I was last tested.”

He didn’t like to think of her having any sex at all unless it was with him. “We get tested at the start of every season,” he said. “All clear. I haven’t had sex since then.” 

“Then,” she reached forward to pluck the condom from his fingers, relieved she hadn’t been the only celibate one for the last three months, “I don’t think we need to use one.” She tossed it behind him. It landed on the nightstand, skidded across the surface, and fell somewhere they could find later. “I don’t want anything between us.”

Her eyes were dark with desire, and he felt it through his whole body. 

“You’re incredible,” he said reverently, bringing his body next to hers again. 

She reached between them to stroke his erection and his eyes fluttered closed. Feeling her hand reminded him how quickly he’d come in her mouth. “I’m scared I won’t last,” he admitted. 

He’d dreamed of being inside her for so long, gotten himself off to the thought of it so many times, he might just explode the second it became real. Reality shortening his fuze to next to nothing.

“Nico.” 

He met her gaze. 

“I don’t care how long you last.” Lena was struck once again with how handsome he was. Those big, brown doe eyes and pouty mouth. How was this her life? 

He scoffed. 

“I’m serious,” she said, giving him a look that told the truth. “I just want to feel you.” 

He looked almost as if he might cry. 

“And I know if you do come too fast, you’ll make it up to me. You’ve already given me four orgasms and it’s not even ten in the morning.” 

He chuckled, glad for her reassurance and humor. 

“Is this helping?” she asked, continuing at the same, gentle pace, “or no?” 

He nodded. It probably was helping - getting him used to the feel of her.

“Do you want me to keep going?” 

He shook his head, finally getting up the strength to pull her hand away. They’d waited long enough. 

Lena rolled onto her back, and he followed, bracing himself on his forearms above her. 

As he reached down go guide himself, Nico pulled in a deep breath. Slow. They were going to take this slow, and everything was going to be fine.

Even nestling his tip against her entrance sent sparks pinging through his system. 

He tore his eyes from where their bodies would soon be joined and looked into her face, “this is okay?”

She nodded.

“You’ll tell me if —” 

She leaned up to cut him off with a kiss. “Make love to me, Nico,” she whispered as she settled back against the pillows. 

And so, he eased forward. 

Her hips tipped to his, a pleasured sigh escaping her lips. There was a stretch, but he’d prepped her so well, there was no pain. 

She met his gaze as his hips settled against hers. He was looking at her with all this love and adoration. No one had ever looked at her like that but him. Reaching up, she swept some of his hair out of his eyes, only to have it fall right back. 

A laugh chuffed out of him as if to agree that was a losing battle.  

“You can move,” she said after a few more moments of his trembling stillness. 

He swallowed and shifted his hips back. 

She took in a sharp breath. “Oh.”

“Feels good?” his voice was tight with restraint. 

The fullness of him was good, but feeling him move inside her was better. “Yes,” she moaned. 

A thousand little dreams came true.  

The sight of her beneath him was a replay of so many fantasies, his resolve was unraveling too fast. He knew she meant what she said about him coming too soon, but he wanted to be good for her, and, dammit, he wanted to feel her fall apart around him. He slammed his eyes closed. 

“How does it,” she gasped as he withdrew to the tip, “feel?” 

“You feel so good, Lena,” he panted. “You’re so tight.”

“Or you’re so thick,” she countered, back arching as he thrust back onto her, a little harder.

That’s when she heard it, that little grunt. It was something her body seemed to do naturally. She would never have noticed it if Nico hadn’t pointed it out. And he’d picked up on it almost immediately, filing the information in his beautiful brain to help bring her pleasure. What had she ever done to deserve this man?

Nico risked looking at her. She was beautiful every time he saw her, but this took the cake.

“What do you need? What will make you come?” 

Of course Nico was mature enough to communicate and know he needed her help to get her there.

“Keep going,” she panted as her hand slipped between them in search of her clit. Nico felt so good. So incredible inside her, but she'd never been able to get off by penetration alone. 

His jaw dropped as her walls fluttered around him. “Fuck can't do that,” he groaned. 

“Need it,” she whispered, pressing purposeful circles over the sensitive bundle. 

He moaned her name and buried his face in her neck. She felt so much better than he'd even fantasized. 

She made a noise that made his hair stand on end. God, how was he going to get through this without embarrassing himself when she sounded like that? Like more than all of his dreams combined?

“Nico,” she moaned his name the same way, and he felt his resolve crumble a little bit more. 

Pulling from every self discipline lesson he'd learned in hockey and beyond, he stilled, reminding his body his mind was more powerful. 

Once he had some semblance of control back, his competitive determination snapped into place, and his desire to please her took the drivers seat. He needed to see her come beneath him.

“Nico. Can you…” she trailed off before demanding, “harder.”

He braced lifted himself higher and drove his cock into her with more ferocity, grunting with each show of strength. 

Feeling his strong hips drive into her over and over again made her back bow. “Oh my god. Nico, yes!”

Sweat broke out along his hairline just as much from exertion as the restraint he was clinging to. 

“I’m almost there.”

“Let go,” he growled. 

Her mouth dropped open. She never expected to hear Nico order her around at all, but hearing the gruff command in SwissGerman sent her body into a frenzy. She had no idea what he said, but it was the hottest fucking thing she'd ever heard. 

Her hips rose to meet his, and he could still feel her fingers between them, working for her own high. 

He watched pleasure roll across her face and continued on.  “Lena,” his resolve was slipping, and he heard desperation creep into his voice. “Come.”  

That one word order — she knew it had to be — tipped her over the precipice, and her body seized.

Feeling her walls clench around him pulled a shout from his gut. Fuck, she felt so good. As he continued, the rapid pulsating began. 

“Lena,” it came out a desperate moan. “Lena.”

This was…she was… 

Careening over the edge with a shouted, “Fuck!” he flooded her in a haze of bliss. 

Afterglow turned his limbs to jelly, and he collapsed atop her. 

Walking to his locker the next morning, Nico tried his best to be as inconspicuous as possible. If he didn’t draw attention to the hickeys on his neck and chest, no one would notice. He’d just change with his chest facing the stall. 

“Ooh!” Dawson called out as soon as he’d stripped off his shirt, “Cap finally got laid!”

He went rigid. The memory of Lena’s nails raking over his back as she unraveled beneath him for the fourth - or maybe it was the fifth - time flew into his mind. 

He'd nearly howled like a wolf when she'd done it. The pain, together with the pleasure of her walls constricting around him – not to mention the very reality that he was the one making her come so hard – made him see stars. 

“Whose the lucky lady?” Jack asked, sauntering over, “was it that blonde from the bar? I bet it was the blonde.” 

He felt himself snort. “No,” he said, voice louder than he expected. Of course it wasn’t the blonde from the bar. Some girl he’d just met could never compare.

“Who was it then? We all know it wasn’t Lena.” 

Nico couldn’t help the smug little smile that spread over his lips. 

Jonas picked up on it right away. “it was Lena wasn’t it?” he asked, eyes going wide. 

Feeling himself blush, Nico tried and failed to keep the grin off his face.

“It was!” Jack exclaimed. “You finally got the balls!” he clapped a hand on Nicos shoulder and spun him around, taking in the marks on his chest and neck. “Looks like she enjoyed herself at least!” he said with a laugh.

“Aw man,” Dawson moaned, sinking onto the bench at his stall. “Why are all the hot girls taken?” 

“You didn’t seriously think you had a chance with Lena, did you?” Curtis chirped, one sarcastic eyebrow raised. 

Dawson shrugged, feeling his face and neck get hot. 

“Didn’t you see the way she and Nico have been eye fucking each other the past four months? Neeks was practically on his knees at Halloween.” 

“I was not,” Nico defended. 

“No,” Jack broke in, “you were. You were practically drooling, to be honest.” 

Coming home after practice, the apartment smelled heavenly. Like spicy sausage and something creamy. Lena was cooking. 

He followed his nose to the kitchen and found her at the stove in a pair of running shorts and a gray Devils t-shirt, stirring whatever she had in the sauce pot. 

As he watched, she brought the spoon to her mouth, tipped her head to the side as she tasted, then reached for the salt. She shook some in before stirring and repeating the process.

She must have deemed it done because she set the spoon down and flipped off the burner. She grabbed some hot pads and lifted the pot off the stove. 

A yelp escaped her mouth when Lena turned to find Nico in the doorway, looking at her. She nearly dropped the whole pot of sauce. 

 “Oh my God! Why do you do that?” she demanded, managing to set the pot back on the stove. 

An amused smile lifted his mouth, dimpling one cheek more than the other. “Do what?” 

“You keep just showing up in the kitchen without any warning!” she said, flapping a hot pad in his direction, “and it scares the hell out of me when I turn around.” 

“I just get too distracted to say hello,” he admitted. 

“Distracted?” she asked, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yeah, you’re…” he paused, gesturing to her as he tried to find the right words. “You’re so pretty it steals my thoughts sometimes.”

She blushed. 

“That time I came in when you had that pink underwear on, I thought I might faint.”

She rolled her eyes. 

“I’m serious, Lena,” he said, finally stepping in so he could put his hands on her waist. The fact that he could touch her like this now was still banging pots and pans around his brain each time he did it.

“You thought you might faint?” she repeated. “that seems a little dramatic, Nico.” 

He shrugged, “it was like this stolen moment.”

“What?” 

He paused, working his thumbs under the shirt hanging loose on her petite frame. He loved that she’d started wearing his shirts.

“I loved you for so long, and it was like this little, secret gift.” His thumbs drew circles on her skin as he thought through the words, “it was like I was seeing you like I might if we were together, and I just couldn’t…I couldn’t bear to say anything because it would break it.”

“I thought you were shocked at my thighs,” she blurted, effectively running the moment. What he was saying was so incredibly sweet, but him bringing up that moment brought her straight back. 

He laughed quietly. “I was shocked at your thighs. I don’t think I’d ever seen you in your underwear.” 

“I mean…I thought you didn’t like them,” she said quietly, hoping he didn’t think she was fishing for compliments. The way he’d tenderly kissed her there the night before told her she’d been wrong. 

His gaze grew soft, “you’re so beautiful, Lena. How could you think that?” 

One of her shoulders shrugged up. “I’ve never really liked them.”

His hand slid down over her hip to tenderly grip the flesh, “I love them,” he said, leaning in closer to nuzzle his nose against hers. “I especially like what’s between them.” 

“You’re insatiable,” she teased, even as her heart fluttered. It was a strange thing to have her insecurities turned inside out so easily. 

“Can you blame me?” he asked, lips whispering over hers, “when I’ve wanted you for so long, and now,” he slid his other hand to her other thigh, and tightened his fingers, nudging her to jump. She did, and he moved to cup her rear to hold her up as her ankles hooked around his waist. “Now I have you?” The truth in his statement, along with the feel of her body pressed against his, made him a little breathless.

The steps they’d taken to get here were clear, and she followed them again and again in her mind, but in moments like this, it still felt like a dream. Instead of answering, she kissed him.

They’d kissed a lot now, but it still felt so new that each time she initiated, each time she caught his mouth, and especially each time her tongue brushed against his, his knees went a little weak. 

Stumbling just slightly, he backed up and ran into the fridge. The bottles in the door clinked and rattled in protest. 

The sauce and baked potatoes were long forgotten as he carried her to the bedroom.

Part I | Part II | Part III | Playlist

To read all my fics, check out my Fanfiction Masterlist

[areyoudreaminof]

Worth The Wait: An Elucien Week Playlist

Happy Day One of @elucienweekofficial! Enjoy this playlist of songs about fate, love, and patience that I hope inspire you!

Tracklist and lyrics behind the cut!

Love Letter From the Sea to the Shore-Delaney Bailey

Cause you hold in my tide I would die a thousand times Just to see you in another life I think I loved you in a thousand ways 'Cause you remain stagnant on my trouble days No matter how far I drift away You'll be there when I come back one day

Silence-Before You Exit

Talking Why's everyone always talking? Noise in my head, but it’s nonsense I can't feel nothing Guarded Don't overthink how we started Knew from the second you walked in This could be something Everybody’s looking for a love to start a riot But every time I look in your eyes The world gets quiet

Comin' Around Again-Amber Marks

So let's see where the night goes Maybe love's comin' around again

Why Don't You-Cleo Sol

Why don't you just let go And quiet down your ego Don't complain about finance I know your daddy weren't a real man Go ahead and live your dreams To me you're stronger than a whole team

I wanna see you smile Even when you think I'm angry It's true it might take a while But it's between you and me

Homemade Holiday-babygirl

Homemade holiday Catching rays, wearing shades Inside, dead of the night Who needs pearly gates? You’re the same, hear your name I die, bye bye

Forever & Always-Zeph

Honey, now we're older, but we'll never age I don't think my love will ever start to fade My attachment to you isn't subject to change My heart's yours forever and always

The Day That I Met You-Matilda Mann

But then you called, only to say You'll never love somebody else this way And though I'm still battered and bruised I forgave the world the day that I met you

The people talk, it's background noise I don't wanna hear nobody else's voice There's somethin' sweet about your scent It's like lavender came and never left

Garden's Heart-Natasha Khan & Jon Hopkins

I hear a whisper in the trees Where I am you and you are me You need to find a way back here Remember what I said: The space that is in between You have to fight it

Love Sneakin’ Up on You-Bonnie Raitt

Fever turns To cold, cold sweat thinkin about things we ain't done yet Tell me now I gotta know, do you feel the same? Do you just light up at the mention of my name?

Till Forever Falls Apart-Ashe & FINNEAS

Out on our own Dreamin' in a world that we both know Is out of our control But if shit hits the fan, we're not alone

Jupiter-Flower Face

We can leave right now, never come back home You're all I need Forget everything that we used to be Take me to another place, fly me up to Jupiter We can run away But I'll always feel at home with you

Lucky For You- Novo Amor & Gia Margaret

Lucky for you I’m nothing without The thought of starting all my days With the mornings when I see you I’m bored of staring at my face Every morning when I need you

coffee-Miguel

Old souls we found a new religion Now I'm swimming in that sin, baptism Peach colored skies we feel the sunrise Two lost angels discover salvation Don't you wish we could run away now?

Sardine Song-Lav

If I had a home It would be our tin can Caught in your red hair Breathing in salt and making you swear Please Who do I have to be? I'll dip myself in honey Climb into the spaces in between your teeth

Ends of the Earth-Lord Huron

To the ends of the earth, would you follow me? There's a world that was meant for our eyes to see To the ends of the earth, would you follow me?

Unicron Loev-Raleigh Ritchie

There’s something about you That takes my blues away Life’s nothing without you I can’t get through the days I’ll never be cynical ‘Cause you wouldn’t have it I believe in miracles, I believe in magic

Morning Dove-Genevive Stokes

We don't talk much When I'm around you I'm a statue When you're running I can't catch you But it's not time There's a way to your defiance so I'll wait to break thе silence

I'm On Fire-Bruce Springsteen

Sometimes it's like someone took a knife, baby, edgy and dull And cut a six-inch valley through the middle of my skull At night, I wake up with the sheets soakin' wet And a freight train runnin' through the middle of my head Only you can cool my desire Oh, oh, oh, I'm on fire

Worth the Wait-Kali Uchis

Most people don't know how to love, that's why they're empty Nothing will ever be enough, that's why they envy Gotta be careful with my heart because I love deep

How Deep is Your Love?-PJ Morton

How deep is your love? I really need to learn 'Cause we're livin' in a world of fools Breaking us down, when they all should let us be We belong to you and me

Taglist: @born-to-riot @asnowfern @cauldronblssd @dawneternal @foundress0fnothing @goddess-aelin @goghwilde @kataravimes-of-the-shire @iftheshoef1tz @acourtofladydeath @chunkypossum @amandapearls @climbthemountain2020 @popjunkie42 @queercontrarian @rosanna-writer @tunaababee @temperedink @lainalit @xtaketwox @cursebrkr @octobers-veryown @separatist-apologist @separatist-apologist @the-lonelybarricade @jules-writes-stories @velidewrites @melting-houses-of-gold @panicatthenightcourt

[byechristopher]

WE'RE ALONE.

– Chris Sturniolo angst/fluff.

depressed-stoner!chris x f!reader

Author's note: there's a playlist I have on spotify (literally my childhood) that 100% inspired me to write this – hits too close to home, pft. So here, Chris smoking w33d. Do not copy/steal my work. :) didn't proof read.

Warnings: w33d obviously, mentions of alcohol and depression. Sad, messy love. Also, super long – don't know what else, tbh. This is JUST a fan-fiction.

Playlist:

Time was passing by and the voices from inside the living room wouldn't stop – I can hear them getting louder and louder. I bring my knees close to my chest, hugging myself and I turn the volume of my speakers up.

It's always like this; they get loud and then they pretend this never happened, like I never heard what they said to each other. Or how they talked about this family, this house. It was exhausting for me, to say the least.

A few hours later, with the loud music still filling the dark room, I decided it was maybe time to sleep. This would all end faster that way. But when I was about to do that, I saw.. something out the window? I know I did. There it is again... hold on – a shoe? I get up, a little scared, and look outside. I knew it. I open the window.

"Chris, what the fuck.." I yelled and I saw Chris picking up his shoe, jumping around for a few seconds before wearing it again.

Oh, Chris. We've been close friends for so long. As long as I can remember – my childhood is filled with memories of him. I've always been so thankful. He has always been the safe place that I desperately needed but never really knew I wanted. He would always be there whenever I needed him and if course, I did the same thing for him. He was worth it anyways.

"Come on!" he yells, not caring if my parents heard him.

"Really, Chris? Your shoe?" I place my elbows on the windowsill, laughing a little bit.

"I couldn't find any rocks. Now shut up, and jump!" he grins and I roll my eyes.

I turn the volume down, not all the way down, enough to not let my parents hear what is going on in here, but also without disturbing their sleep. I quickly wear a big, black hoodie, I put on my lace up boots and after grabbing my phone, wallet and cigarettes, I walk towards the windowsill – I've been sneaking out my room ever since I was little, I cannot believe I'm still doing it in my twenties. But who cares.

I place my foot on the windowsill, grabbing a branch of the tree that is right outside my room (thank God), and I climb up that tree till it's safe enough for me to jump – Chris catches me and we fall down, like every other time. We laugh.

"Hi." he says, it's simple, but it makes me smile.

"Hi. I didn't know you were here – I thought you were coming back next Tuesday." I say and I keep walking next to him; we know exactly where we're going.

"I was supposed to, yeah. But I didn't like it there, so I left. Plus, you are here." he has a little smile on his face and only now do I notice the paper bag in his hand, "beers." he says before I get to say anything. I nod, smiling.

We keep on walking and about ten minutes later, we finally reach our destination. There is an old, abandoned school that we found out about a few years ago. I still remember that day – I was so scared, especially when I saw these old stairs that were leading up to a big, rusty door. When Chris opened the door, though, we found out that there was a flat roof behind that door, old school chairs then and there. I smoked my first cigarette here. Also, my first blunt. Hah.

The chairs are still placed right in front of the parapet wall that's built along the edge of the flat roof. So we sit down – Chris is already rolling a blunt and I open two cans of beer, handing him his.

"Now. Tell me, what's wrong?" I break the silence abruptly. He doesn't look at me.

He doesn't need to tell me anything, I always know when he's not feeling well. And I know he wants to see me too, but that's not the exact reason he is here.

"Fought with my brothers." he murmurs and licks the wrap to seal the blunt while looking at me.

"Yeah, no shit. Why?" I watch him as I take a sip of my beer.

"Just bullshit. It doesn't matter. They know I'm here with you anyway." he mutters. His hair is a little messy and his hoodie is also too big for him, as usual, "what's wrong with you anyway?"

"The usual." I sigh and place my feet on the parapet wall, the can of beer in between my thighs, making my bare legs cold and making goosebumps rise on it – not the wisest choice to keep these shorts on.

We talk and talk and talk, for hours. We're both high, drinking beer and a mini bottle of vodka that was hidden in his big hoodie, we both had our legs hanging from that low wall and laughing like idiots.

He grabs the back of my head and brings me closer to him, his breath fanning over my lips, "missed this." he whispers and places his lips on mine. I groan in his mouth and start moving my lips against his, my tongue licking his bottom lip. He lets my tongue enter his mouth and I get up quickly to straddle his thighs, sitting on his lap so that I can be more comfortable, without breaking the kiss, of course.

His hands sneak under my hoodie and his cold fingers travel up my back, my hands are buried in his hair, tugging at it gently. The kiss is slow but hungry and I find myself getting lost in it. Then, it hits me. I part our lips and I place my forehead against his, my hands are placed against his chest, "I can't." I murmur.

I can still remember the last time this happened. And the previous time. And the time before that. Blah blah blah. But last time I said it was the last time, because I cried myself to sleep that night. Whenever we get high and we drink, we sometimes make out. Just sometimes. He's always the first one to make the move because I'm too scared. I told myself it wasn't that deep the first time it happened, but I was secretly craving the next time it would. When we didn't make out, I would go home disappointed. Crying, sometimes. I didn't know if I was subconsciously falling in love (or already in love) with Chris or just really deprived of affection, but I was more and more hurt each time it happened.

"What is it?" he whispers and grabs the nape of my neck with both hands, pulling me close to place a soft kiss on my forehead.

"Why.. do we do this, Chris?" I whisper, I'm sacred to even ask the question, but I have to. For my sanity.

"I thought you wanted it." he stiffens a bit, pulling away a little bit.

"I do. And so do you. But why do we want it?" I search for his eyes but he averts his gaze from me every time I try to.

"What kind of question is that.. we're high and we make out. It's not a big deal." he says and I know I will cry myself to sleep again tonight.

"It might not be. For you." I sigh and he tries to sit up, indirectly telling me to get off of him but I don't. He's uncomfortable. So am I. But we have to do this.

"You're fucking high and you're drunk. You don't know what you're saying." he shakes his head and looks away. He knows I know exactly what I'm saying and that's what pains me the most.

"I might be in love with you." I say and the silence gets louder than my goddamn parents earlier.

"I love you too, what does that have to do with anything.." he says, completely dodging what I just said to him.

"Chris. I'm fucking serious. I think I'm in love with you." I whisper and I cup his cheeks.

"Don't do this to me. I can't deal with this." he whispers back, closing his eyes for a moment.

"Do you love me like this, too?" I ask the question I dread the most.

"We can't do this. This just won't work. We're a fucking mess. How will we ever be good for each other? Can't you see it?" he says and my eyes fill with tears; I don't know what to say, because deep down I agree with him, "don't do this to me." he continues and I know he's talking about the tears in my eyes.

He wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me as close as possible, kissing my cheeks to catch the tears that escape my eyes, "I just.. you know I can't. Can't do this again."

"Chris.. seriously? We were kids!" I open my eyes just to look at him.

I know I hurt him when we were younger. But that was years ago, he can't keep blaming me for it.

"Yes, fucking seriously. I carried that around for a long time. You knew I was in love with you. You were the only one I wanted to be with." he glares at me and I sigh.

"I've apologised a million times, Chris."

He wasn't wrong. I remember how hurt he was back then – I knew he was in love with me when we were young and took advantage of the affection he was giving me, even though I didn't want him. I didn't feel the same way he did. Or at least, I didn't know I did. So I cut him off out of the blue and told him I would never want him this way. To make sure he knew I never would, I kissed his best friend. I don't know why – I think I wanted to prove that I really didn't like him. Now that I think about it, I wanted to prove myself more than him.

"You apologised and I forgave you. But you can't come here and tell me you think you are in love with me. What does "think" mean?"

"I don't know, Chris! It's.. overwhelming." I groan and I get off his lap, walking towards the door. I don't want to leave. But I don't know what to do, "you hurt me too, Chris. Ever since we kissed for the first time, I haven't been able to do it with anyone else. Hell, every time I tried to even talk to another guy, I could only think of you." I yell.

"Well. We can't be together. That's all I know." he clears his throat and grabs a cigarette.

"That's all you have to say?" I turn around to look at him as he smokes.

Silence.

"That's all I have to say." he mumbles. He gets up. He leaves. I stand there. I grab my stuff and I leave, too. That's what I get for wanting to be with an emotionally unavailable guy, who I know will probably hurt, as much as I will probably hurt him. We're both messed up. Broken childhood with broken hearts.

I walk towards my house crying but I don't want to go home. It's almost 5 in the morning, it's cold and it's dark. I should be in his fucking arms now, not walking around with nowhere to go.

At 05:20, my phone rings. Chris. He is crying and my heart shatters.

"I am afraid I will hurt you more than you already are." he says and I cry, "I'm afraid that one day, my problems will make me unavailable for you and I can't imagine not being able to be there for you. Ever." he sniffles.

"I'm scared too, Chris.. but.. I want to be selfish this time. I want to be with you. I don't wanna think about my parents, I don't wanna think about your friends, I don't wanna think about anyone other than you. I know I am in love with you." I sit down on the pavement and I try to make him hear me as much as I can through the tears.

"Fucking hell. I am in love with you. Where are you? I'm coming."

I tell him and in less than two minutes I see him running towards me. I can see his red eyes and his wet cheeks. He sees me and immediately gets on his knees to be on my level, cups my tear-stained cheeks and kisses me with so much love that I can feel my heart beating normally again.

"You came quickly."

"I always come for you. I go wherever you go." he whispers in between kisses and we fall backwards – I'm on my back and he's kissing me again and again.

"Then never leave me."

"Never."

[yns-world]

always & forever

part i of the euphoria au!outer banks series

part ii part iii part iv

title: always & forever

pairing: euphoria au!rafe cameron x reader

warnings: toxic relationship, mention of toxic family, murder, obsession, rafe cameron as his own warning, ooc rafe

a/n: this was inspired by this playlist. i highly recommend listening to it while reading <3

fem reader, race not mentioned, size not mentioned

italics = Rue narrating

normal text = scenes of their relationship

Ah, Rafe and Y/N. The token toxic couple at East Highland High School. Their relationship had a different dynamic than Nate’s and Maddy’s. Nate and Maddy don’t know how to leave each other alone, but Rafe and Y/N simply won’t let each other go. Rafe and Y/N would rather burn each other alive than to ever leave each other. 

These two started dating at the beginning of junior year, when Rafe first moved here. Some say it was love at first sight, others say it was because crazy recognized crazy. 

Rafe took a step into the main entrance, unconsciously chewing on his thumb out of nervousness. The noise, the stares, the people-- it was all too much. But just as he was about to ditch, he locked with a certain pair of eyes. They were so calm, so warm. They beckoned him, and he felt himself walking towards her. 

“You new here?” She asked, her voice light. But Rafe was still too nervous to speak, he could only nod. “You’re so cute when you bite your thumb.” The girl pinched Rafe’s cheeks and chuckled. 

Their relationship was a heavy one, with obsession on both ends. In just a few weeks, Rafe became notorious for his anger outbursts and nobody could stand to be around him-- nobody except Y/N. 

As part of their nightly routine, Rafe crawled through Y/N’s window and curled up in her lap. They stayed like that for hours. Some nights they’d talk, but on nights like these, they were silent, trying to recuperate from their own lives.

As Y/N stroked Rafe’s hair, she thought about just how similar he looked like a puppy. He was just one big, hurt puppy.

But not everything was sunshine and rainbows in Rafe and Y/N’s world, they both were deeply flawed. Rafe was extremely possessive and controlling, and given Y/N’s past with her controlling family, she couldn’t stand it. 

And then there was Y/N’s constant changing moods and her fleeting attention. She was always looking for something new-- that’s what attracted her to Rafe in the first place-- so you can only imagine how hard it must be for Rafe to keep her attention and love when she’s always looking elsewhere. 

These two were always taking “breaks” but were never on and off like how Nate and Maddy were; their possessiveness would never allow them to give them that much room. 

But I guess their jagged flaws are what allowed them to piece together so perfectly. 

In the week of Nate’s and Maddy’s break up, those two were doing everything in their power to ignore each other. Meanwhile, as Y/N walked past Nate in the hallway, Rafe was desperately jogging after her.

“Y/N! Y/N, please!” Rafe pushed through the crowd and latched onto her arm. With his tall build, he could easily overpower Y/N but a single stare from her was enough to check him.

Rafe ignored her stare and pulled her into the nearest bathroom, locking the door behind them.

“Y/N, I can’t do this. I can’t be away from you.” Her face was as cold as stone, her eyes unmoving. Rafe always preferred Y/N when she was angry-- she would hit his chest, scream until her throat was sore, but he could always reel her in and calm her down in his arms. 

When she was angry, it was because she cared. 

But he couldn’t stand her silence. There was nothing he could do when she had no reaction. 

Rafe broke down, grabbing onto her shoulders and sobbing. 

"I need you, I can't live without you. You're the only one who gets me. You're the only person who sees me."

Rafe cups Y/N’s face and leans down until his lips are centimeters from hers. 

“I could never let you go.”

He sealed his promise with a kiss that sucked all the air from her lungs. 

In some ways, Rafe was worse than Nate. Nate might’ve been crazy, but Rafe was crazier; Rafe had nothing to lose except Y/N. 

Nobody has proof that Rafe is a killer, but it was pretty coincidental that the same QB that Y/N was flirting with had died the next week. 

On the day that the beloved QB was pronounced dead over the school speakers, Y/N and Rafe were walking through the halls, hand-in-hand, as if nothing could ever bring them down. To pour salt in the wound, Rafe had publicly gifted her a bouquet of primroses, a unique and uncommon choice of flowers. But these were one of Y/N’s favorite flowers because of their meaning. Primroses meant devotion and everlasting love; they meant that one could not live without their other half. 

A warm smile lit up Y/N’s face.

“You’re so sweet, Rafey.” She gave him a peck on the lips. 

“That’s not all.” Rafe dug in his pocket and retrieved a black velvet case, revealing a sapphire teardrop pendant necklace. 

Her excitement meant the world to him, it was all he lived for. It was all he cared about. He could never let anyone come between him and Y/N; they had something eternal, something that no one else could possibly comprehend. 

Nate was capable of killing Maddy, but Y/N was capable of killing Rafe— for his heart was in her hands. He would let her kill him again and again, and he wouldn’t say a word. In fact, he enjoyed every time she went out of her way to ruin him. It was just another opportunity to prove his love, to prove his devotion. 

a/n: DON’T BE A GHOST READER!!!!! let me know your thoughts, opinions, ideas, etc in the comments!!! i love talking with y’all <333 

if you enjoyed reading, please consider reblogging and tipping, they help my account more than likes :)

i had fun writing this, lmk if y’all want to see more euphoria au!rafe or just more rafe in general :) 

if y’all have any ideas for euphoria au!rafe or any ideas in general, then please don’t hesitate to send them!!! i want to write more content for rafe immediately <3

[zer0inbox]

SMALLTOWN DEMON SLAYER,

from a shuffled playlist                   inspired by the southern gothic, the preacher’s daughter, and demon slaying. lyrics slightly tweaked for clarification.

i’ll hold my breath for three more years.

god loves you, but not enough to save you.

good luck taking care of yourself.

that's how my daddy raised me.

if they strike once, then you just hit 'em twice as hard.

if i bend under the weight that they gave me, then this heart would break and fall as twice as far.

the more it hurts, the less it shows.

i still feel like they all know. that's why I could never go back home.

god, i've tried.

if it's meant to be then it will be.

i forgive it all as it comes back to me.

i can't let go when something's broken.

it's all I know and it's all I want now.

you lost your chance.

with good luck, i'll find the dark.

it’s my primary instinct to protect the child.

i had a dream that it would end like this.

what's gone is gone and you can't bring it back around.

you can't illuminate what time has anchored down.

your divination should acquaint you with the plan.

all i want is to save you.

the space between us is as boundless as the dark.

you can't intimidate me back into your arms.

no one can hear me.

i can see that you want me going downhill, too.

you ripped me open, then you kissed me.

i adore the bludgeoned affection.

i swear, i’m the shell of a man.

my mom, now she’s a saint.

i killed them both, and they're buried under a sycamore.

you think I'm psycho, don't you?

i'm having crazy dreams again.

i woke up in his room, standing right there by his bed with my hands around his throat, wishing both of us were dead.

we will wade in the shine of the ever.

no one is born to hate, we learn it somewhere along the way.

hardly a maverick, lesser than average.

your vulnerability is stronger than it seems.

you know it's okay to have a bad day.

just get this one thing done.

i went to the bar to get a little closer to myself and learn things i never really wanted to know.

i want to be where all the stupid shit i say sounds so romantic and true.

i'd rot in hell with you.

live with me in this sin forever.

we take things a little far, but you couldn't name a place I wouldn't go with you. 

home is the last place that i'd stand to be with anyone but you.

beware the bottled thoughts of angry young men.

secret compartments hide all of the skeletons.

you know damn well where you'll go.

i want to be someone else or i’ll explode.

you want me? fuckin’ well come and find me.

you soon find you have few choices.

when i was a child, i heard voices ; some would sing, some would scream.

all you have is your fire.

don't you ever tame your demons, but always keep them on a leash.

i knew that something would always rule me.

i’ll make you a believer.

put me to the test.

you know i’m a forgiver.

i still hear you cry.

circumstance will decide.

you’re a ghost on the highway, and i’ll love you forever.

i want to eat out your bitter heart.

you gotta show me where it hurts.

there's a beast and a burden kicking, spitting on your bathroom floor.

good things die all the time.

god bless your heart, vengeance is mine.

kiss me like you mean goodbye.

so if I fight the good fight, will hairlines recede? will lines deepen in face to craft a look of defeat?

my little saturday night became a sunday remorse.

at last, my good friend, we are even.

don't you leave me in the ground alone.

but you and I will never find that peace.

it's too bad that all these things can only happen in my dreams.

if you want to scream, scream with me.

[xray-vex]

@nordarknessdimsthesky tagged me to share five songs with very little guidance other than “something that is simultaneously quintessential to your personality while also being something that others might be unfamiliar with.”

Alrighty, let's go digging through all of my playlists for some stuff I might not have shared before.

I went to my Liked Songs playlist and hit shuffle and clicked skip til I got ones that seemed right. I chose songs that I've loved for at least a decade.

I'm stoned, it's after midnight, I'm alone in my office with the lights dim and lingering over a cup of tea and the space heater's on and the cat is softly yelling at me to pay her some attention. I'm kind of in deep moody brooding mode tonight, which is reflected in the selections below.

(I tag @red-sky-in-mourning and anyone else who might wanna)

Dead Can Dance is literally part of my fucking soul at this point, so this was the first one I thought of to meet the criteria of something quintessential to my personality. I've probably talked about them on a million separate occasions to the point where I sound like a great-uncle so-and-so telling his kin the same story for the millionth time. I'll never shut up about them. I'm not religious but I definitely feel a mystical fascination with the universe and Dead Can Dance activates something in my fucking brain, opens up some fucking channels, that makes me feel connected to it all and to some profound, unnameable, untranslatable truths.

This song, Severance, speaks to the existential struggle when confronting change (personal? societal? etc? both? all?) :

(This song is so dear to me that I got a tattoo inspired by it. A memento mori.)

Peter Murphy - A Strange Kind of Love - I have a deep and abiding love for this track, but it came into my life right at the precipice of a core turning point in my life: shortly before a profound, devastating heartbreak that shattered me, that I thought would literally kill me.

Well, I lived, bitch. For whatever that's worth.

Pink Floyd - Lost For Words - underrated song, allover underrated album. I think few bands understand how to convey the human condition like Floyd does. This song has always really stuck with me.

Ulver - Lost in Moments -- It's like strolling through a Cyberpunk/Film Noir city on a rainy night full of artificial light and hazy shadows.

Deftones - Digital Bath -- Pure sex. That's what this song is, that's what his voice is. This song is so intimate it's almost voyeuristic. If I were to ever put this on a playlist for someone, it almost certainly would mean I want to fuck them.

[bethorz]

Foo Thoughts - let's talk about Shifty's (old) song An Atheists Prayer

Chris's first Dead Peasants album was on my playlist a lot last year while I was deep in my Taylor feels (I say "was" like I am not anymore, sad lol). It's kind of moodier than any of Chris's stuff since, three songs in particular got a lot of play "Not Going Down Alone" which I have been convinced for years is about the Foo Fighters, "Death March" which fully made me cry a few times because it's so sweet and this one, "An Atheist's Prayer" which seems to be about wanting to help someone who is struggling but not being able to. For obvious reasons, that one hit different, despite being written in 2009ish and clearly being about a different situation. However, one night I was listening to it and something occurred to me that I had never considered before. What if it is actually about Taylor? specifically the London incident in 2001.

First, these are the lyrics (they are wrong in a few very key places anywhere I've seen them online)

It takes a tragedy, to get through to you and me It takes a tragedy, to see what’s next to me You went searching every road, but what were you looking for? Always a locked door, you chose to fight your secret war It’s temporary, that is all Hold you tight when you were falling Feels like you’ll sink forever, but when you blink, you’re coming up for air It takes a tragedy, to get through to you and me It takes a tragedy, to see what’s next to me Well, how many times was the gun to our head? But we never came up dead So close your eyes and we’ll cry for peace An atheist’s prayer will track for me⫮ It takes a tragedy, to get through to you and me It takes a tragedy, to see what’s next to me I wish I knew you better, I wish I would have been there I wish I knew you better, I wish I would have been there

⫮ this is the only line i am not 100% sure on but the last part is definitely "for me" and not "for free" as it is written on lyric sites

I'll point out that these are sadly pretty universally applicable and still just as poignant even if I'm way off. And also lyrics aren't necessarily about just one thing. I also don't mean this post to imply that I think that OD was T's COD, I really don't think it was, and this reading is independent of that. That said, lets see why this song might actually be inspired by Taylor.

The reason I had never made the connection before, is the last few lines (I wish I knew you better...) make it sound like the subject died. Which I had never really thought had tracked with other parts that were kind of hopeful. Or the "to get through to you and me" part. Much lesser so, the fact that he thought he might have not known them that well but was still affected enough to write the song.

But "I wish I knew you better" could also be in general (he still does wish that) OR in hindsight "I wish I knew you better [like I do now]". And I actually think this read makes the song hang together better.

It's not as talked about as much, because he was fortunate to avoid any sort of public incident like Taylor and flew more under the radar in the band in general - but young Chris, by his own admission, by early band interviews after he joined, and if a lot of his more recent song lyrics are anything to go by, loved to party. He seems like he tried all the drugs. He and Taylor were the younger guys and seemed to not show as much restraint as, say, Dave and Nate. They were both fans of the sex, drugs and rock'n'roll era of music and that lifestyle in a way that the others weren't. They were also both the only ones sober in more recent years. Even if they weren't super close (and I don't think they were, though I do think Nate, Chris and Taylor were closer then they get credit for, just from working together a long time and IMO doing most of the heavy lifting live) that (being sober in Dave Grohl's band) has to foster some sort of kinship/understanding.

It also makes sense, as the whole song is pretty much addressed to "you" and "our", which makes more sense if "you" is still around. I have always seen Taylor's OD as a wake up call for the whole band as young men. Dave has even said as much (it made him reach out to Jordyn). Additionally, I think, apart from Taylor, Chris probably needed it the most. And it seems like it worked, because it's when they all started settling down. Chris in particular seems like he was married/had his first kid by the end of 2003 or 2004 at the latest (his oldest started college in September 2022) after being flagged as the hardest partier in several early interviews.

All that to say, even if they weren't super, super, close, that would have have still be a very important milestone in his life. "I wish I would have been there" also kind of has the vibe of an AA mantra.

Regardless of the actual circumstances of the song can we talk about this devastating in hindsight line:

"How many times was the gun to our head, but we never came up dead"

Oof :(

I am aware could be way off, but there is not enough Foo Fighters content in the Foo Fighters tag so have a Sunday afternoon essay (you're welcome)

[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)

[mrworldwideshoulders]

Absolute Zero || reader x JHS

Pairing: reader x JHS (kinda sorta not really? you’ll see); feat. Yoongi, Jin, JK, and Taehyung (very briefly) Word count: 5.5k Rating: rated M / R Genre: angst, smut (if you squint), breakup au Summary: Everyone thinks he’s crazy for still being hung up on you after this long, but he can’t stop thinking about the one who got away, spending his nights writing letters he’ll never send and words you’ll never read. Inspired by Talking to the Moon - Bruno Mars.  Warnings: very angsty; you might cry a lil bit, strong language probably, implied smut/sexual content, alcohol consumption.  A/N: hellooooo I am very excited to share my first fic with you! I love this one so much, like really, so much. It’s one of my favorites and idk if you can tell but I’m really proud of this one. I hope you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing, and let me tell you, I really enjoyed writing it. tell me your thoughts in the notes; I'd love to hear em! please be gentle though T_T shoutout to my bestest pal and actual sister @onmypillow-onmytable for this excellent banner and for beta-reading! Thx! ly - robyn P.S. I do not own BTS or their likenesses, nor do I own the music of Bruno Mars, lol, they simply inspire me. 

part of the Hooligans collection

inspo playlist here

absolute zero: the lowest temperature that is theoretically possible, at which the motion of particles that constitutes heat would be minimal.

Dear y/n,

I keep asking myself why you left, and nothing I can come up with makes any sense. All I ever did was love you, y/n. What about that was so wrong? I know it wasn’t part of the agreement we had, but I never planned it this way. I couldn’t help my feelings. You have to understand that, y/n. I never wanted to push you away. I wanted to keep you close, and I couldn’t even do that. 

I can’t stop myself from thinking about you every day. Wondering where you are. Where you went. What you’re doing. Your number doesn’t work. Your email’s been deactivated. It’s almost as if you’ve dropped off the face of the planet, y/n. Is that where you are? Outer space? You might as well be, as far as I know. I hope you’re doing all right, wherever you are. I don’t think I could live knowing something terrible happened to you. Maybe not knowing anything is better. Take care of yourself, y/n. Until we meet again. 

Love always,

Hoseok

Hoseok blinks awake, startled out of a fitful sleep by some unconscious sensation of falling in a dream, stopping suddenly before he can hit the ground. They say dreams where you’re falling always stop before you can hit the ground, something about how if you die in a dream you die in real life too. He wishes the dream wouldn’t have stopped, wondering what it feels like to slam into hard ground, to shatter into a million little pieces, not knowing if someone will come along to sweep him up into a dustpan and piece him back together. He’s not familiar with the sensation. He only knows falling, perpetually, waiting in suspended animation, never reaching the ground. He reaches out a hand, only to find the spot next to him desolate and empty, illuminated in cold, bluish moonlight. The memories come rushing back to him all at once: the same vacant space where you used to sleep, of waking up alone, the same harsh moonlight spotlighting his solitude, a pale white envelope on the pillow next to him. His name, written on the outside in your delicate hand.

Hoseok, you wrote,

I know about the ring, and I guess I can’t say I’m surprised. You never even had to say it. It’s written all over your face every time I look at you: you love me. And you want to marry me. The wedding, the kids, the happily ever after, you want it all. You want too much from me, Hoseok, and I can’t give it to you. Our arrangement was simple: no feelings, no strings, no expectations. It was never supposed to go this far. I let my guard down too much, and I've already let you have too much of me. It was cruel of me to do that. I should have turned you down from the moment you asked me to dance because I knew in my heart I was only ever going to break yours: your sweet, gentle, loving heart. That moment, when you smiled at me and told me your name - that was it. I couldn’t stop myself. I couldn’t hold myself back. 

I know it makes me a coward to do this while you’re asleep, but I can’t bear to see your face when I tell you I’m leaving, Hoseok. Consider this my first and last act of love. Please don’t come looking for me, because you won’t be able to find me. We won't meet again. You’re a good man, and you deserve someone who wants the same things as you, someone who can make you happy. That can never be me, and I’m sorry. I hope you find her one day. She'll be a lucky girl, whoever she is, to have landed a man like you. Treat her well. I know you will. I hope she does the same for you.

Do you know what the saddest part of this is? I think I really could love you someday.

Sweet dreams, Hobi. 

-Y/n

He drags himself to his feet and crosses the room to the dresser, where he pulls out a small black velvet box and flicks it open. The platinum-diamond setting, costing a little more than three months’ worth of his paycheck, glitters in the moonlight with an unearthly sort of beauty. He’d never even gotten the chance to give it to you, only ever showing it to his best friend after he’d bought it. “Do you think she’ll like it?” he’d asked. 

“Well, I mean, I’d say yes if you proposed to me with this,” Yoongi had said. “But…are you sure about this? Didn’t she tell you she didn’t want any hangups?” 

Hoseok closes the box with a snap and drops it back into the drawer. He hasn’t been able to bring himself to get rid of it, thinking somehow he might need it again when you finally return. He heads out onto the balcony, pen and paper in tow. The air is quiet, the world below still tucked under the dark covers of somewhere just after midnight, when the full moon is at its brightest. 

Dear y/n, 

It’s a full moon tonight. I never thought about them before I met you, they were all just something that happened in the background. You always reminded me when they were supposed to happen, and you told me they all meant something different depending on the month. I think it was the cold moon when you left. It’s May now, that’s the flower moon. It doesn't really matter anyway. Every full moon feels cold to me now. It’s stuff like that I can’t forget, you and the names of those moons. Can you see the moon from where you are? Is your moon the same as mine? Nights like these are when I miss you the most, y/n, when the full moon rises and you’re not here in my arms. It’s starting to get warmer now, but everything still feels cold without you. You said you thought you could love me one day, y/n. Why didn’t you stay and find out? I just can’t wrap my head around it. I have all of these questions and I don't know if I'll ever find answers. I wish you had stayed, at least long enough to explain it to me. 

Take care of yourself, y/n. Until we meet again. 

Love always,

Hoseok

He meets up with his best friend for lunch the next day, though he doesn’t do much except pick at his food. Yoongi watches him intently, eyebrows furrowed in concern. “Aish, just leave it if you’re not going to eat it,” he says, frowning.

Hoseok sets down his chopsticks and shifts his gaze to stare out the window. Food doesn’t hold much appeal for him anymore, not since you left. Nothing does, really. 

“What do you think about going on a blind date?” says Yoongi. “I was talking to one of the waitresses at that new club I was spinning at last week. She’s pretty, seems nice. Seems like you two have a lot in common. I think you might hit it off. I’ll give her your number if you want, next time I’m over there.” 

The idea of meeting someone new is almost too much to consider. How could he even think about going out with someone else when you might come back any day now? Hoseok shakes his head. “No,” he says. “Thanks, but…I can’t right now.” 

Yoongi sighs and goes silent for a moment. “It’s been six months since she left. You can’t go on like this forever. It’s delusional." 

He shrugs, smiling sadly. “Not yet.” 

His mother is there when he gets home, the only person other than you and his best friend who knows his apartment code. She comes by almost every other weekend to fill up his refrigerator with leftovers and side dishes, fearing he doesn’t know how to eat properly when she’s not there to cook for him. She doesn't like any of it: that he lives alone, that she can't always be there to look after him, that he took a job here after college instead of moving back home. “Hoseok, I was noticing…” she starts, after they’ve greeted each other. “These are the same dishes I brought you last time. You haven’t eaten them yet?” She gestures at the dishes on the top shelf of the fridge. 

“No,” he says. “Just haven’t gotten to them, that’s all.” He doesn’t like to worry her. How could he say that not even her cooking does anything for his lack of appetite? She wouldn’t understand. She never even knew you existed. All she knows is that she has a son who won’t eat her cooking. 

"But you’re so thin. Are you sure you're eating properly?" His mother reaches up to touch his face, pinching his cheek. "You look like you’re wasting away.” 

“Of course I have,” he deflects. “I’m fine.” 

She eyes him skeptically. “Really? You seem so depressed these days. And you won’t tell me what’s going on. I’m worried about you. You’re not overworking yourself, are you? You look exhausted.” His mother pauses, biting her lip. “Why don’t you come home for a bit and let me take care of you? I’m sure your father would like to see you too. It must be tiring, living in the city all by yourself. Some time in the country would be good for you.”

“Everything is fine,” he reassures her, though he’d like nothing more than to spend a week or two at home in Gwangju, where there’s nothing to remind him of you. “There’s a big project at work, and the client’s being difficult, so things are just…kind of rough right now. But I’ll get through it.” It’s surprising how easily the lie makes its way out of his mouth. “I’ll come home soon. I promise.” 

She still looks dubious, but she goes to depart regardless, making Hoseok swear he’ll have empty dishes ready for her to take back the next time she comes. He watches her leave, longing to fall into her arms and explain everything. There was a girl. I loved her. I only wanted to make her happy. But she left me, and I can’t understand why. It hurts. It hurts so much. Nothing feels right without her. Tell me it gets easier, Mom. Tell me one day it won’t hurt as much. Would she understand? No, she wouldn’t. No one could ever understand. 

Dear y/n, 

My mother came by today to bring me food. I’ve told her a thousand times I’m an adult and I can take care of myself, but I don’t think she’ll ever get over wanting to feed me all the time. She’s worried about me. I think she thinks I might be losing it. She wanted me to come home for a while, out in the country. That would be good, wouldn’t it, y/n? I always wanted to bring you there sometime, to show you where I grew up. Gwangju is nice. You would have liked it there. I would have taken you there someday, introduced you to my friends and family back home. I wish you would have let me introduce you to my parents. My sister, too. They would have liked you if they’d ever gotten a chance to meet you. We were always so secretive, y/n. They never even knew we were together. 

Yoongi says I’m just deluding myself, that you’re not coming back. Everyone else says the same thing too: Jin, Taehyung, Jungkook, all of them. But I can’t make myself accept that. What does someone like Jungkook know about love, anyway? He’s practically a baby. He’s probably never even been in love before. Y/n, sometimes I wonder if you can hear me as I’m writing these letters. Are you out there somewhere, listening to me? Are you out there talking to me too? Are we still connected somehow? I’d like to think we are. That’d be nice. Better than the alternative. 

Take care of yourself, y/n. Until we meet again. 

Love always,

Hoseok

Hoseok can't remember how long he's been here, or how long he's been drinking. He's lost count of which drink he's on. He's not even quite sure where he is, though he knows it’s a bar of some type. Sounds and voices swirl around him, fading in and out, muffled, rippling, as if he’s deep underwater. He squints at the barstool next to him, thinking, if he focuses hard enough, that he can see your figure next to him, leaning against the bar, in the dress you were wearing when he first saw you. He remembers that night, far more clearly than he should. Seeing you across the crowded dance floor. Only introducing himself because his friends had dared him to, saying how far out of his league you had to be. Your smile, something sad behind it, even then. Back up against the wall as he fumbled with the door to his apartment, struggling to keep your hands off each other, the two of you stumbling down the hall in the dark leaving a trail of clothes in your wake, shoes kicked off, that dress abandoned somewhere in the living room, his jacket slung haphazardly over a chair, until you finally made it to the bed, fully exposed, your bare skin practically iridescent in the light of the full moon, beckoning him closer. Losing himself in you, in your body. Passionate moans and breathy sighs. Your breath on his ear, whispering his name, your voice sending shivers down his spine. Waking up the next morning with you curled into his arms, head resting against his chest, as if you were always meant to be there. Your hair, your eyes, your smudged makeup from the night before, everything about you - perfect. He's gone back to that night a thousand times, relived those moments over and over in his mind, wishing with everything in him that he could go back in time to keep himself from ever seeing you, from ever daring to speak to you. To satisfy the part of him that wishes he had never met you, and to hell with the part of him that never regretted a single moment.

As soon as he reaches out to touch you, your image evaporates, dissipating like a reflection on smooth water. “Y/n,” he mumbles. “Where did you go?” He rests one cheek against the cool surface of the bar, lulled by the warm feeling of the alcohol and the swishing sound thumping in his ears. I don’t want to be alone, he thinks. Please don’t leave me alone. A warm, comforting black blanket sweeps over him, blocking out the sound and light from around him. 

He becomes aware of reality again when he notices the feeling of someone shaking his arm. “Hey,” sounds a voice in his ear. “Hey you, wake up.” He slowly comes to, sitting up and looking around. The bartender who’s been serving him all night is leaning on the counter, arms crossed. Her face is a mixture of resigned annoyance, as if she’s had to deal with this one too many times. “It’s last call,” she says. “We’re closing. You want to close your tab, or what?” 

“Go ahead,” he says, sitting up and dropping the side of his face into his palm. She walks off and returns moments later, sliding a receipt across the counter to him. 

“Are you going to be all right to get home?” she asks. “Do you want me to get you a cab? Or is there someone I can call for you?” 

Y/n, he thinks. “No,” says Hoseok. “Don't worry about it. I'll be fine.” He stands up and immediately stumbles.

“Okay, you’re not going anywhere,” says another voice, one that sounds familiar. Yoongi pulls Hoseok’s arm over his shoulders and steadies him. “Come on, I’ve got you.” 

“Yoongi?” he slurs. “What are you doing here?” 

“You drunk-dialed me, remember?” says Yoongi dryly. “Well, no, I don't guess you'd remember. That was a while ago. I thought you'd have gotten home by now.” 

He doesn’t say anything, allowing Yoongi to drag him along. 

“You really gotta stop doing this,” Yoongi grumbles. 

“What, drinking alone?” Hoseok chuckles goofily, reaching out his index finger to poke Yoongi in the cheek. 

“No,” Yoongi says, slapping his hand away. “Whatever this is. Beating yourself up over every little thing. Drinking until you pass out. I’m your best friend, Hob-ah. You know I’ll be there whenever I can, but I can’t always be there to drag your sorry ass back home. I have my own life too. The one time I don't pick up my phone you’re going to get so pissed drunk you’ll wander out into the middle of the street and get yourself hit by a bus or something, and you won’t even notice.”

“You worry too much,” mutters Hoseok. “You should get together with my mom.” 

Yoongi sighs and doesn’t say anything else until they’re home, releasing Hoseok to fall onto the couch. “Probably fucked up my shoulder even more just dragging you home,” he complains. “Fuck, I can’t deal with this anymore. I don’t know how you can either. She’s gone. Not coming back. It’s the truth. You need to accept that. The sooner you do the sooner we can all get on with our lives. You'll never be able to move on if you're just sitting here wallowing in the past and what might've been.” 

“I can’t,” he mumbles. “It hurts too much. If she'd given me a chance—”

“What? You could have changed her mind? Gotten her to stay?” Yoongi sits down on the ottoman across from him. “Hobi, I hate to break it to you, but you couldn’t have stopped her from leaving any more than I could have. She knew what she wanted. You knew, too, and you still let yourself fall for her. She was always going to leave because you were always going to let your heart get involved. That’s just the kind of person you are. It wasn't a matter of if, it was just a matter of when. You were never cut out for that kind of relationship, and I don’t know why you insisted on pretending like you were. You wouldn’t have been happy with that kind of arrangement in the long run, and if you think I’m wrong you’re just lying to yourself.”

He lets that sink in. Yoongi is wrong - he’s sure of it. He would have been happy. You could’ve been, too. Things could have changed - he could have made you happy. “Get out,” says Hoseok, rubbing his eyes. “Just…leave me alone. Please.”

Yoongi stands up. “Fine. Get some sleep. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” He lets himself out, allowing the door to slam behind him. 

The room suddenly feels unbearably small and stuffy, and deafeningly silent now that he's alone again. He stumbles his way over and out to the balcony, gasping slightly as the cool evening breeze lands on his flushed cheeks. The moon is in a different phase now, waning from the full in preparation for the new. Even so, the stars seem somehow brighter tonight. He stares up, transfixed by the sky, every star where it’s supposed to be. Every star except you, the one that’s supposed to be right next to him. He allows himself to get lost in the starfield, hoping to find some indicator that you're still out there, that you've simply fallen out of orbit and gotten lost somewhere out in space, just like he is now, drifting through, waiting for someone to reach out and grab your hand and pull you back toward them. 

That's the last thing he remembers when he comes to the next morning, early, as the sun is making its way into the sky again, sitting upright in one of the chairs he leaves on the balcony. His neck is stiff, his back is sore, his head is pounding angrily, and his search for you in deep space was once again unsuccessful. He hears the sound of birds, of the early morning buses, feels the sunlight on his face, smells the scent of a spring morning in Seoul. All of it only serves as a reminder that he's here, alone, without you. You're not lost in space. You're not here. You're not anywhere. You're somewhere far away, beyond his reach or anyone else's. You're not his anymore.  

Maybe you never were. 

Dear y/n,

You said you couldn’t be the one to make me happy. If that’s the truth, then why do I feel so empty without you? Why does the world feel so cold when you’re not here? I was happy with you, y/n. You didn’t even have to try to make me happy. As long as you were there, I was happy. That’s why I wanted to marry you. To have you by my side for the rest of my life was all I ever wanted. It would have been enough just to wake up next to you every morning, to hold you close, to look into your eyes and see you when you’re groggy and half-asleep. For you to be the one I came home to every night, to be the only one I’d ever be with. If I could have had that, I would have been happy for the rest of my life.

But maybe you were right. Maybe I was asking too much. Maybe I wanted too much. You weren’t ready. I know that now. But y/n, I would have waited forever if you asked me to. I could have been patient. We would have figured it out together. I know I could have made you happy too, if you’d only given me a chance. Since you cut me loose, I’m just drifting around, lost in space. I’ve tried to forget you. It's been six months. By all logic I should have already forgotten you and moved on by now. But I can’t. I tried to drink you away, but I couldn't. It only made your face clearer in my mind. I still see you everywhere I go. What am I supposed to do now, y/n? When my heart still aches for you, even though you’re the one who broke it? When all the alcohol in the world couldn't even make me forget you? What am I supposed to do now? I don’t just miss you, y/n, I need you. I hate you, but I still need you. What sense does that make? 

I'm sorry. My head is pounding. I'm going to bed now.

Hoseok

He’s preparing for another night in when there’s a sudden pounding at his door. Half expecting you, or god forbid, Yoongi, he opens it, finding Jin and Jungkook outside instead, and he can’t help but feel a tad disappointed, though admittedly his friends are a welcome sight. He can barely remember the last time he even saw Jin or Jungkook or any of them other than Yoongi, to be honest.

“See, I told you he was in there,” says Jin cheerfully, shooting Jungkook a sideways glance. “He barely goes anywhere these days. And he always opens the door when he knows it’s me. Isn’t that right, Hobi?” He pushes his way past him, clapping Hoseok good-naturedly on the shoulder. 

“What do you guys want?” he says, following them into the kitchen. Jungkook is perched on one of the barstools while Jin leans against the counter. 

“Yah! Who says we’re here because we want something?” demands Jin indignantly. “The restaurant gave me the night off for once so we’re going out. We wanted to stop by and say hello, that’s all. Can’t we say hello to our friend that we haven’t seen in a while?” 

“Hi,” says Hoseok. “So where are you headed?” 

“We’re meeting Taehyungie at that club downtown,” replies Jungkook. “That new one Yoongi-hyung keeps talking about. We thought we'd finally go check it out.”

“Oh.” He hasn’t been out to a club since before you left. “Have fun then, I guess.” 

“Well, if you’re not doing anything…” Jin says, looking at Hoseok pointedly.

“Yeah!” Jungkook’s face brightens noticeably. “Come out with us, hyung. Please?” With his big, earnest doe eyes, he looks so innocent that if it weren’t for his muscled arms no one would ever believe he was a professional MMA fighter. “We haven’t gone out together in ages.” 

“Yeah, Hobi, come with us,” pipes Jin. “We never see you. You don’t go out anymore. And you’ve been so down ever since…” He hesitates when he sees Hoseok’s face. “Well, all I’m saying is that you deserve to have some fun. Live a little. You know?” He sidles up next to him, nudging him gently with his elbow. “Come on, let’s do something together. You used to love going out. Things haven’t been the same without you. And you know Kookie will desert me the second he gets a better offer anyway, like he always does. You should come. Keep me and Tae company.” 

“I don’t do that every time!” protests Jungkook.

"Almost every time," retorts Jin. He turns back to him. “Please? We miss you, Hobi. Not just because you don’t go out anymore, but the way you used to be. You’re so mopey these days. I don’t think I’ve seen you smile in months. Yoongi says you’ve been drinking by yourself a lot lately, too. If you’re going to drink tonight, why don’t you do it with us instead of sitting here drinking by yourself? We’re a lot more fun than you are right now. I guarantee it.” 

It’s true, it has been a long time since he’s gone out, or even spent any time with his friends. He used to like going out on the weekends, drinking for fun, not to forget. He's not sure he remembers how to do that anymore. “I don't know," he says, looking down. “I probably won't be much fun. You'd be better off going without me.” 

"All the more reason you should come," Jin says. “You're just out of practice, that's all. You won't be any fun if you don't at least try." He drops a hand on his shoulder. "So what do you say?"

Hoseok ponders this for a moment. Is it too soon? Are his friends right? Does he deserve to have fun? Should he just do as Yoongi says and get on with his life? 

"Yeah," he says finally. "Why not? I'II come.”

The club is louder than he remembers: almost too loud. He finds himself wishing partly that he'd stayed home where it's quiet, the drinks are already paid for, and he can hear himself think. Although, the other part of him thinks that maybe it's a good thing he can't hear himself think, and he wonders why he didn't try this sooner. Maybe he would have forgotten you before now if he had. Taehyung has already paired himself off with a woman who looks like she belongs on a runway, and the ever-charming Jin is surrounded by a clump of girls – and guys – in another corner of the dancefloor. Jungkook has disappeared too, although to where he’s not sure. So much for doing something together. He sighs and keeps his spot by the bar. 

Someone approaches, a girl in a tight black dress and stiletto heels, her face framed in S-curls. “Hi there,” she says “You look lonely.” She smiles invitingly. “I can keep you company, if you like.” She’s pretty, like a member of one of those idol girl groups. She looks nothing like you - her eyes don’t have that same sadness that always seemed to be behind yours, and her smile seems genuine, whereas yours always seemed a little feigned. Her dress is far shorter than you ever would have dared to wear yours, just barely covering the tops of her thighs. 

He hesitates for a moment, before saying, “Sure.”

She takes the seat next to him. “My name’s Jihyo,” she says. “Yours?”

He downs the last of his drink. “Hoseok.” 

Jihyo leans in, and he can’t help but glance down at her chest, her arm pressing her breasts upwards. She’s hitting on him; that’s obvious enough. “You’re cute, oppa. But why do you look so sad?” 

The question catches him off-guard. “What?” 

“Let me guess,” she says. “You just got out of a relationship, didn’t you?” 

Was it ever really a relationship? Or was it just an arrangement? “Something like that,” he says finally. 

“Me too,” she says. “About a week ago.”

“I never would have guessed,” he says, and he wouldn’t have, not with the way she’s acting. 

“I’m a good actress.” Jihyo grins. “Besides, he was all wrong for me. I’m over it - mostly.” She looks him directly in the eye.  “What about you, oppa? Are you over her?” 

She’s bold. He’ll give her that. “No,” he says. “Not in the slightest.” 

“Do you want some help with that?” Jihyo smiles mysteriously. “People say I’m very… therapeutic.”

He knows exactly what she’s asking. “Your place or mine?” he says automatically, before he knows what he’s doing.  

“Yours is fine,” she says. “I have roommates. You live alone, right?” 

He doesn’t even want to know how she figured that out. 

Jihyo is gone by the time he wakes up the next morning, leaving not even a single trace of herself behind, other than a scrap of paper she’s left with an almost indecipherable scribbled phone number. He realizes, as the sunlight is creeping into his room, that this is the first morning he hasn’t automatically thought of you the moment he woke up. The first morning where the light of day isn’t as painful as it was the day before. He has to hold himself back from immediately entering her number into his phone to tell her good morning, to ask her if she got home all right, that he would have given her cab fare if she’d asked. In all likelihood he’ll probably never see Jihyo again. So none of that really matters now, does it? 

Jin: Yah! Where did you run off to last night without telling us? You’re as bad as Jungkookie now! Hoseok: Me? What about you? You deserted me first. Whatever. I had fun at least. Let’s do something again the next time you’re free. Jin: Yeah! Let’s do it!

He tries it again the next night, bringing home another girl, with another short dress and a different name. This one wants to hang around and talk in the morning, instead of vanishing silently while he’s asleep like Jihyo. He wishes she wouldn’t, that she’d quietly get her things and be on her way out. He’s relieved when she’s finally gone. She talks too much, which is good in bed but nowhere else.

It gets easier, eventually. Every morning, he notices, becomes a little less painful. He’s finally figured it out, he thinks. The answer to the question of what to do to forget you. A different woman for every night you’re gone, from here on out, until the day comes where it doesn’t hurt so much to face the truth, that you’re gone and never coming back. Where he doesn’t automatically wonder where you are or what you’re doing, or whether you still think about him. He stops writing you letters eventually too, tucking the sealed envelopes into a shoebox, along with the tiny velvet box he never found it in himself to get rid of, and all the other little things that remind him of you. The shoebox makes its way onto the top shelf of his closet, where it won’t be thought of again for a long time. The next time his mother comes into the city he sends her back home with empty dishes, having finished off every leftover. He finds himself smiling again, now that you’re not constantly on his mind anymore. He feels lighter. Like he could be happy again without you. 

It’s true, dwelling on the past will only hold you back. The only way out is forward. Yoongi was right about that, at least. But in the end, it was you who taught him the most valuable lessons: to keep things short and sweet, to stay detached, to keep your heart closely guarded. He knows this now. Everything that ever reminded him of you is gone, but the scars on his heart will always be there, a silent reminder of a mistake he’ll never make again. Falling for someone, allowing them to hold your heart in their hands, even for only a brief moment - only ever ends in heartbreak. Hearts are fragile, slippery things, and they’ll always end up sliding out of your hands, fracturing into a million little pieces, too small and too delicate to be put back together. 

©2022 by mrworldwideshoulders

[ticketstomydaydreams]

HOME

(All We Have: Part One)

Part Two

Colson x Female Reader

Summary: You and Colson are close friends and he invites you to move in to his house while you work on his record together

Word count: 1,580

Feels: Friendship Fluff for now

Warnings: Alcohol consumption, cursing, mentions of feeling depressed

Companion playlist:

Machine Gun Kelly - Home

Sia - Dressed in Black 

The Beatles - With a Little Help from My Friends

A/N: Throughout the series there will be changes to the timing of real life events like the pandemic, the release of certain songs etc. There's certain things I want to incorporate into the series, like particular events in MGKs life and lyrics from songs, so some stuff will get moved around to fit in to the story ✌️

______

It had been a long evening working in Colson’s home studio, The Boulevard, with him and the gang on the upcoming Tickets to my Downfall album. To say your schedule was busy was an understatement, but Colson had insisted you get involved with the new material after the success of your work together on Hotel Diablo.

Composing music was your main gig, you had an ear for melody and your passion for writing meant you always had lyrics swirling around your head. You had a penchant for dark and melancholy lyrics, finding music to be a source of therapy for you. It was something you and Colson had instantly bonded over. He'd bugged you to list some of the stuff you'd written that he'd know and you had gained his professional respect immediately.

He always kept a close eye on your work, ever the supportive friend and had laid claim to your piece ‘Glass House’ as soon as he'd heard it.

______

2019

You were sitting crossed legged on the sofa in your lounge, gently strumming your guitar and gazing off into space and mumbling to yourself, as you worked out some lyrics in your head. Colson was lying on the floor by your feet, scrolling through his phone with earphones in, a blunt in his hand that he occasionally passed up to you. This was a common set up, you found it easier to write in the peace and quiet and Colson has gradually started hanging out at your place more when he needed to focus on his own writing.

"All alone in the glass house, lie awake til the sun's out, pink sky when you come down…"

"Throw me in the damn flames, Bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames…"

You'd started singing out loud, occasionally stopping to scribble down lyrics and make adjustments, not noticing that Colson had removed his earbuds to listen to you

" Dude, that's hard, like, beautiful… " His comment made you jump slightly, you hadn't seen him propping himself up on his elbows, watching you intently "Sing that last bit again"

You blushed slightly, his opinion was always important to you, and started singing. He muttered to himself as you did, then pointed at you "Again!"

Letting out a little laugh and rolling your eyes, you sang again

"Throw me in the damn flames, bury me in gold chains, throw me in the damn flames"

Colson's voice met yours at the end of the line, rapping softly "I'm waiting on the rain to come and wash it all away"

You locked eyes, smiling and he sat upright. "Dude, Im'a need that hook! That spoke to me right there, I've think got something for it that I've been stuck on"

He looked so excited, your heart did a little flip. You'd seen that writing this album had taken it out of him, he'd been digging deep and really going through it emotionally. You could tell it was going to be raw and special from what you'd heard already.

He sat forward and moved the guitar from your lap so he could lean his arms on your knees and looked up at you shooting you puppy dog eyes with those baby blues "Pretty please Y/N"

You laughed and ruffled his hair, "Anything for you Col" Honestly, it'd be an honour to be part of such a personal project, you thought

He wrapped his arms round you and squeezed,

"You're a legend, kid. Get a sample recorded and send it to me!" He grabbed your guitar off the sofa and whipped back around, strumming a few chords as he carried on talking with his back to you, leaning against the sofa "This is gonna be fire, you always just hit the nail on the head, I swear it's like you're in my head sometimes"

You smiled, seeing the wave of motivation that had struck your friend. You felt so lucky to have a friend who was not only so inspiring, but one who 'got it', who understood that music was a form of release. Someone who recognised that it was important to feel these things, rather than encourage you to push dark thoughts away with toxic positivity.

He’d pushed to use your original samples on his record, but as much as you loved writing and singing, you were a behind the scenes kind of gal which had always suited you just fine. Naomi, a mutual friend of you both, came onboard to record them with him. A decision that turned out to be golden… 'Death in my Pocket' would be born not long after, with Naomi doing your lyrics such beautiful justice yet again, perfectly pairing with Colson's emotional rapping.

______

From then on Colson had kept you close to his recording. You'd been helping here and there with composition and notation, but your production skills were what was taking centre stage during the most recent sessions. You had a long list of projects you were working through, leaving you chained to your equipment most days and nights anyway so throwing more music into your workload didn't seem like much of a big deal. In all honesty, the chaos of Colson’s studio and the revolving door of personalities that were in and out constantly, made it one of the most fun places to be. You loved what you did for a living and it never really felt like work Even though the guys were a real handful at times, you kind of enjoyed being the studio 'Mami' as they often affectionately referred to you

Everything had wrapped up for the evening and the guys had migrated back into the house. You could hear from the raucous that the drinks must have started flowing freely. You were saving your work and packing up your stuff when Colson bursts back into the studio and throws himself in a chair, spinning it around with his arms in the air.

"You staying for drinks Y/N?" he grins at you, clearly hyper and in party mode

You let out a big sigh "Urgh, I'd love to but I have an early start tomorrow. I finally managed to get an apartment viewing. I swear I've looked at a hundred places now, they get snapped up so quickly.. I've only got a few weeks left on my lease as well"

“Ah, that sucks kid” Colson empathises, spinning his chair again before an idea strikes him “Wait! Why don’t you move in here for a bit until you find a place? The guest room is pretty much your room anyway, the amount you crash here”

You laugh “This is true, that mattress is so much better than mine! Aw Col, that would honestly be so helpful, the stress of finding a place when I’m this busy is killing me. I don't know… You sure the guys won’t mind?”

Colson scoffs “Why would they mind? You practically live here anyway” he teases “I’m sure they’ll be just as stoked as I am at the thought of you joining the madhouse for a while”

Before you have a chance to respond, he stands up and throws his arms around you, squashing you into him tightly “That’s it decided Roomie. Another song in the bag and a new housemate, plenty to celebrate tonight!”

Wriggling out of his tight grasp, you laugh and in a deep voice shout “let’s goooooo” mocking his signature catchphrase. He flips you his middle finger and says “Kitchen, now”

Once you’re in the kitchen, Colson heads to get you a drink and grabs one himself. Appearing back at your side, he passes you your beer and then shouts out to the rest of the group,

“YO, meet our latest housemate, Y/N is moving in. LET’S FUCKING GOOOOO”

Everyone in the kitchen lets out a big cheer, clearly pleased as he said they would be. Colson bends down and picks you up, swinging you around in a circle, spilling your drinks all over the both of you as you shout his name in mock annoyance, between giggles.

“I hope you know what you’re letting yourself in for” Rook laughs, clinking his drink against your now empty beer bottle once your feet are back on the floor

“It’ll be good to have another pair of hands around here, looking after you lot” Ashleigh chimes in, laughing and slapping Slim away as he pulls her hood up over her head, covering her eyes

It had been 5 years since you'd made the decision to move to LA, barely knowing a soul. You'd worked several jobs, jumped from place to place, worked your ass off to catch your break in the music business, sometimes feeling like the grind would never get you anywhere.

There had been times where you felt like you couldn't carry on, aching from trying to keep pace. The dream had felt like it was turning into a nightmare, as you tried to make ends meet, feeling so lonely in this enormous city.. but eventually you'd made these amazing friends who made you feel so safe and loved.

Now, there were times you had to pinch yourself just to make sure it was all real.

As you shake off some of the beer that's dripping from your hands, you look around the kitchen. Taking in the crazy, loveable bunch before you, your new housemates, you are filled with gratitude. You finally felt like you were exactly where you were supposed to be…

Home.

______

❌❌ Lace up!

[pure-kirarin]

Slow & Steady [P1] [Sabo x f!reader] (+18)

Hey bishes. I snapped and decided to publish first chapter of my current project. This was inspired by @glitterfreezed​​ playlist . Honestly I am so thrilled for this story. It’s different from everything I have written so far and I am excited for how it will turn out.  Genre : Romance - Smut - Bestfriends to lovers  General warnings : Alcohol consumption - Dark themes - Swearing - S m u t - possessiveness - Mention of ex-relationships - jealousy

Synopsis : Isn’t love a matter of timing after all ?  That’s what Sabo has always thought. It was about finding the right tempo, making the right moves and hitting the right spot. Patience is a virtue after all, and he had a lot of it. It all started when your ex cheated on you. You were heartbroken, you needed someone and he was there. Was he always that hot ? You didn’t know. But after that night you have never seen him in the same way.  Part II -

Part I : 

“(Y/N)…You should really stop drinking. Said Nami as she took the cup off your hands.

-Leave me alone ! I wanna drink some more…Come on…Let me drink“ you said as you reached weakly for the cup in her hand but ended up stumbling and almost falling.

You were quick to feel an arm encircle your waist. Your intoxicated senses could still pick up his scent, a mixture of mint and cologne. His gloved hand held you a little tighter against him so you don't fall.

« Sabo ! Glad to see you here. I didn't know what to do with her...She's been drinking non-stop.

His hand tightened possessively around your waist. He only knew too well what happened, yet he still asked Nami for confirmation :

« -Hey Nami, What's wrong ? (Y/N) isn't used to drink this much. -Oh...I don't know if I'm technically supposed to tell you but... » she bit her lower lip « let's say that she broke up with (ex). »

You started hysterically laughing as you heard you now ex's name while trying to escape from Sabo's firm grip.

« Eeeeeeeh ? Saboooo~ ? Whatcha doin' here huh ? Oh gosh are you following me ? Why do I always see ya everywhere ? Come're...Let's dance together~ Saboo.. » you screamed so he could hear you over the music.

The nightclub was extremely crowded but you needed all these faces, all these bodies almost crushing you on the dance floor. You needed to drown your pain in alcohol, the pain of being used and discarded, of being betrayed.

You didn't talk about this to Sabo, your bestfriend. You didn't want him to see you in this pathetic state. Seeing you like this made the blood pump into his veins. His fist clenched, but he tried to keep his calm. He slid a hand in his blond locks, sighing and rocking his head back.

He had to keep it in, if he lost his temper, it was going to be the end for your ex.

« I'm going to take her home » He says to Nami as he holds you by your arm.

« 'kay ! Here, she gives him your purse. Take good care of her okay ? I'm counting on you. » She seemed really worried.

-What are you guyyyz on about ? I don't wanna go home ! I wanna drink some more...Come on Sabo, you're no fun. It's good to loosen up from time to time. You're always so uptight...Come on...Lemme go...

-There is no way that I am going to let you in this state, (Y/N)

-That's none of your business ! Let me go....It has nothing to do with you.

Your words hurt but he was used to them, his role as your « best friend » meant that you were always blunt with each other, and usually it amused him, but not tonight.

« You're coming with me. 

-Namiiiiiiii, you traitor! »

Sabo ignored your loud whines taking you to his car, eyebrows tied together, his blood on fire. He felt guilty ; he didn't prevent you from this hearbreak, he didn't protect you, his dear princess. He was too fooled by how happy you seemed, by the way you spoke so eagerly about that bastard, making him wish that it was him instead. But that was going to change. 

You fell asleep while on the backseats of the car. Your dress was slightly up, showing your beautiful legs. It was extremely painful for Sabo to concentrate on the road, his head fuming because of anger and because of seeing you so vulnerable at his side. As you were sleeping and he didn't want to leave you alone, he decided to bring you to his own appartement that he shared with Ace.

He held you like a princess as if you were as light as a feather. Once inside, he put you on the couch. You slowly opened your eyes ;

-Sabooo...Ohh...We're at your place...Where's Ace ?

-Ace is spending the night with Thatch. You can stay here till tomorrow. I can't leave you alone...Well...Like this.

You rubbed your eyes together,  sitting on the sofa. He found your flushed face extremely cute. 

-Ohhh...’kayy...Gosh I'm nauseous..you put your hand over your lips. You looked at the glass of water on the table and got up to reach for it, but you stumbled and dropped the glass on the floor.

-Oh goddamnit...I'm sorry...you bent over to collect the shattered glass but Sabo's hand held yours ;

-It's fine, I'll take care of it. Are you hurt ?

You look at your hand some blood was dripping from the fresh cut. You instinctively put your finger in your mouth while looking into his eyes :

-Uh-uh it's fine...I'm really sorryyy for the glass.

-It's okay. I'll bring you another one, you just wait here, and don't touch anything. He says as he collects the pieces of glass to throw them away. Then he disappears into the kitchen only to come back with a glass of water.

You were sitting there, on the couch, in your underwear ; a simple set of black bra and cotton panties. Your dress was on the floor and you reached for the remote control to turn the T.V. on. Sabo blinked many times. He knew that you were bestfriends, and that you probably only thought of him as a brother, yet, you have never stripped in his presence. He almost dropped the glass of water but thankfully he managed to keep his cool. You were drunk. He didn't want to make you feel uncomfortable, especially not tonight. 

« Here, drink up. » He sits next to you and you put your legs on his ;

-Thank you~ Ahh, I took off my dress because it was wet. You said as you gestured to the said black dress. I didn't want to get your couch wet...Also it's kinda hot. You don't mind huh ? It's not like you've never seen me in a swimsuit before...Duuh. Wait ? Are you looking at my chest ??? Eh Sabo, stop right there you're looking at my chest ! I'm sure you're doing it haha.

You said playfully. You had a point, you were to the beach together before, but something about seeing you in underwear was different, and he hated himself for looking at you that way while you were so vulnerable.

-I'm not looking. As you said, it's not like I've never seen you in a swimsuit before. You're going to get a cold though. I'll get you a shirt.

He moves your legs out of the way and gets up.

-Okayyy~ But don't make me wait blondie.

-Blondie ? He stops and looks at you with a raised eyebrow, which makes you laugh super hard. - You know what ? Nevermind.

He proceded to ignore you and comes back with a shirt and some shorts. He took advantage of the situation to change into a white shirt and gray sweatpants. He takes place next to you on the couch as you were too focused watching cartoons and laughing at every not-so-funny joke. 

You managed to put the black shirt on which was too big for you, reaching your thighs. You just threw the shorts away because the shirt was long enough to cover your panties.

-Thankyou~ Wha, your clothes really smell good. Kinda smells like you. You smell good.

He knew that your words were innocent, and that you were much more open because of the alcohol, however, he couldn't help but find you extremely adorable wearing his shirt. The thought of what your ex did made him extremely angry. How could he hurt you this way, you, almost an angel ? 

If only you let him love you, he would never hurt you that way, he would cherish and protect you. You’ll never need anyone but him.

An hour passed, with you laughing extremely loud and him trying to keep his calm as you teased him -unconsciously-, putting your head on his shoulder or messing with him. Then, as you were starting to get a bit sleepy at one in the morning, you let your head fall on his lap and said ;

« Thank you for taking care of me Sabo. You're always here for me...Youuu always help me, you really are an amazing guy. 

You were getting emotional so you put your hands on your face, a bit uncomfortable while talking about your feelings this way. Even though you were bestfriends, you weren't the kind to open up about her feelings so much. You hated being perceived as weak. He ruffled your hair lovingly, taking your hands slowly away from your face. His eyes were extremely gentle, it almost melt your pained heart. You couldn't help but think of your ex, and what he did.

-It's normal (Y/N), I wish I could've prevented all of this. I am sorry for what happened.

-Why are you sorry Sabo ? It's not your fault...It's just me, it's like I'm a fuckboy magnet or something...You said with a bitter laugh, trying to dedramatize the situation.

You sat down again on your knees on the couch, he turned  a bit so he was facing you. He didn't know what to say to ease your pain. He didn't know what to say without betraying his emotions, without giving himself away.

-It's like...Everyone I meet plays me and breaks my heart. I'm so done...I really...What did I do wrong huh ? Why did he have to cheat on me ? Am I not enough ? Am I not pretty enough ? Am I not good enough for him ? What's wrong with me... ? Tell me Sabo what's wrong with me...

You did your best at holding your tears. Sabo gently placed his hand on the back of your head, this gesture was even better than words for you. You just snapped and started crying, your mascara staining the white shirt.

-You are more than enough (Y/N). He is just a bastard. You are extremely pretty..You are kind...Every man dreams to have you by his side. Shh..Don’t cry...he gently caressed your hair

You jolted back, looking him in the eyes and sniffing. He hated to think that in this moment, you were adorable, like a little puppy that was only asking to be protected :

-You're so kind Sabo...Why can't I attract guys like you huh ?

His eyes darkened, he never expected you to say anything like this. He knew it was the alcohol, he knew you didn't mean it, yet, it lit something new inside of him : a hint of hope. And if this wasn't better, you kept going on :

-I mean, you're handsome...You're kind, you're smart...And you make me laugh...you laughed a bit, hell you've seen me at my worst haha ! You really are amazing~I’m so lucky to be your best friend.

you moved yourself a bit because you were getting uncomfortable sitting on your knees on the couch like that. You just slipped onto his lap, and it wasn't the first time you did that. Actually, you had to sit on his lap many times when you were teenagers and you didn't have enough place in the car. But this time was different, you were both adults, and you were drunk and heartbroken.

-I'm sure that a lot of girls are into you...

You look down at his shirt, it's true that you have seen Sabo many times before, but you have never noticed that he was this attractive. You run your hand in his hair as if you were discovering his face for the first time, and you felt some kind of electricity between both of you. He was letting you go too far, almost to the point of no return, but you kept going on and on without leaving him the time to even process one thing.

-Why don't you tell me about anyone huh ? Don't you like girls ? What about that girl, Koala, I'm sure she's into you ! She's pretty cute and...Ahh...Don't tell me you're gay Sabo ???!

You put a hand on your lips simulating a shocked reaction. You knew him for so long and you would be offended if your bestfriend was gay and never told you about it. He held your hand and took it away from your lips. Looking at you with eyes you've never seen before. A serious look, you could've sworn that it was the look of yearning :

-I am not.

His voice firm, just like his grip on your wrist. You could've sworn that you saw something mirrored in his black eyes, something that disappeared as fast as it first appeared. And this thing, that little flame that you almost saw thrilled you. You wanted to understand this change in  atmosphere, and why he wasn't laughing along with you. You felt a bit intimidated.

Did you go too far?

Probably.

But you wanted to go too far.

You wanted to feel something, to forget the stinging pain, to do things that you would regret.

You wanted to sabotage yourself, as a form of punishment.

But for what? And what did he do to deserve this?

Those questions didn't even cross your mind, adrenaline rushing through your veins making your mind blank. You were defying him with your eyes.

« Oh » you said, a mischievous smile forming on your lips. He didn't like this at all. He didn't like how you took all of this as a game while he was serious. But he was that desperate to see your next move. 

The game has just started. It was the perfect timing.

«-Prove it.

-This is getting ridiculous. You should go to sleep as you are saying nonesense.

He knew that you were drunk, but pushing his buttons like this ? It was out of the question for him to take advantage of the situation. His feelings were sincere towards you. He didn't want to do something and betray your trust. He was better than your bastard ex. 

If something was meant to happen, he wanted more than a hookup, he didn't want to abuse of the girl that he has always knew and loved and that saw him as a brother, even if she was half naked on his lap.

It took every ounce of control he had. Every drop of patience in his system to not block you on the couch and kiss your glossy lips.

-You're such a coward...Really...You scared huh ? You're scared ! Say that you've never been with a girl~ Come on, admit it...Who would've known huh ? Sabo you're always so cool~ But in reality you're juuusttttt a virgiiin. I'm so gonna tell Ace ! It's over for you blondie~

You playfully said unaware of the effect of your words, and of how dangerous they were, awakening something almost feral inside of him, just for a few seconds he lost control, pinning you against the couch fist on the side of your face. His face was so close to yours, his hair caressing your cheek and almost making you giggle. 

You have never been this close to Sabo, physically speaking. You felt his leg between yours and you instinctively closed rubbed against it for friction. You just wanted to numb the feelings away. In that moment, you wanted to taunt him, you would've wanted anyone to fuck you. In fact, has he left you in that night club, you would've definitely ended in someone's bed.

But he took you here, so it was his fault, right ? So now it had to be him. He had to numb out the pain.

He was serious.

Sabo, your sweet blondie. Sabo the good friend. Sabo that was always here to pick you up everytime your heart was shattered in million pieces on the ground.

«-Don't try me. I think I'm really close to reaching my limit (Y/N) »

You felt thrilled to see him being serious. You wanted to push his buttons and make him mad. More mad. Because you were broken and you needed some intensity to forget. In that moment, you closed the gap between your lips and encircled his neck with your arms, leaning into a kiss: a desperate, sloppy, drunken kiss. Sabo's eyes opened wide as he felt your soft lips on his. He would have never expected this moment to happen. He never imagined his first kiss with you to be this way. You were so eager, so desperate, and the way you kissed him reflected your conflicted emotions. You kissed him like you needed him, not like you wanted him. 

And that made him full of tenderness. 

He sustained your back, bringing you a bit closer to his chest as you pulled down, eyelids heavy, eyes full of tears :

-Sabo...Kiss me back...Please...I need you. He wanted you, he wanted you so bad that it angered him, but the taste of alcohol on his lips reminded him of your state. His lack of reaction made you even more desperate ; -Sabo don't you want me ? Am I not pretty enough ?...Tell me Sabo...Am I not good enough ? You started nibbling on his ear, and he couldn't help but get hard, he was human after all, and he has loved you for so many years. You whispered into his ear ;

 « Saboo I want you to fuck me »

That was it. That was enough. He got up leaving you there on the couch. Trying so hard not to lose it. He wasn't that guy. If anything, he was mad at your ex, seeing you so hurt that you would initiate something with him, thinking that it was only because of the heart break and alcohol. He held you in his arms like a princess ;

«-Enough playing now, you're going to sleep.

-B-but ! This wasn't what I asked for....You're really a coward after all...You virgin... »

He carried you to his room, putting you on the bed and sitting next to you.

«-I'd love to prove you wrong. However, it would be better if you were in a state where you'd be able to recall how good I am. If you want me to fuck you this badly then maybe ask me when you're sober. »

- Please support me by leaving feedback <3 it motivates me to keep going ! I am tagging people who asked to be tagged or exepressed interest. If you wanna be tagged, ask me !�� Enjoy~

 @vemuabhi​​ @glitterfreezed​​ @mwls-garden​​ @soanywaysistartedsimping @tsunderedoctor​

[zinzinina]

Drift

Pairing: Tech x GN!Reader Length: 1.1k Rating: General Warnings: None

A/N: This is a little birthday gift for the lovely and talented Ellie @themaydecemberist​! Liz ( @ladyopress​ ) created this beautiful playlist for you, and she kindly let me use it as inspiration for this drabble. Thank you for being such a sweet friend and for sharing your incredible creations with us! I hope your day is filled with all the things that make your heart sing. x

He’s still tapping away at his datapad as you scramble to get your boots on.

“Tech? We need to go,” you try. The rest of the crew had left in such a hurry there hadn’t even been time to discuss the mission. Wrecker had started saying something about remembering a last-minute supply run, but Echo had whacked him hard in the arm, shoving him down the ramp before he could finish whatever it was he’d been saying.

They hadn’t even waited for you or Tech to follow. Maybe they didn’t want you to come, you think, hurriedly fastening the laces. But you don’t want to be left behind if there’s any chance of danger for the rest of the crew. This thought urges you on, making you fumble. You glance up, and realise Tech hasn’t moved from his position at the control dash.

You frown. This isn’t like him. He’s usually the one coordinating the punctuality of the others, with the familiar exasperation of a put-upon babysitter. Testily reminding Wrecker he doesn’t really need heavy artillery for a recon mission. Waiting for Hunter to issue directions so he can check schematics first and avoid catastrophe for the rest of the team. 

His concentration is absolute as he finally answers without looking up. “We won’t be accompanying them. I have an… unofficial assignment for us. I’m setting the coordinates now. It’s quite a short jump; within the sector. Hold on.”

You edge closer, leaning on the back of his seat as the viewport streaks into movement. “Really? Just the two of us?” You’re a little excited, if you’re being totally honest with yourself. This has never happened before; every mission so far requiring the entire team to be together. The closest thing to alone time you’ve had with him is sitting squashed knee-to-knee in his bunk, voices hushed under the snores from the surrounding sleepers. 

You’ve spent countless late nights listening to him recount the intricacies of whatever he’s currently working on, hanging on his every word. The rest of the crew visibly tune out when he starts talking, but you could listen to him for hours; his intentness infectious. More than once you’ve found yourself sketching schematics based on the ideas he’d talked about; the sound of his voice inspiring the movement of the stylus under your hand. 

He isn’t talking now. If anything, he seems slightly tense. Easing quietly around into the seat beside him, you sneak surreptitious glances at his face. He frowns behind the thick lenses of his glasses, tapping resolutely away at his datapad. It muffles your excitement a little; regardless of how much you’re relishing this chance to be alone with him, he had mentioned an assignment. It could be dangerous — more dangerous than anything he’s encountered before. And it would explain his stony sobriety. This thought occupies you for the rest of the journey, and you jiggle your leg nervously, daydreaming as minutes tick away.

When he finally leans up to decelerate the hyperdrive, it takes a few seconds for your eyes to adjust to the return to realspace. You aren’t sure what you’re seeing at first. And then it hits you.

Azure and emerald fill the viewport, glowing with the fluorescence of a bioluminescent explosion. The colours of the forming stars are so vivid you can almost feel them on your skin, bathing your face in light. The nebula is unlike anything you’ve ever seen. Its danger is contained by its distance, though its destructive power is unmistakable; both ancient and newborn. It’s the most beautiful thing you could have imagined, something you’ve dreamed about and never dared to hope you’d see in person. You have absolutely no idea why you’re here.

You turn to look at him, and he’s watching it too, the faintest smile turning the corners of his eyes upwards. “The Utegetu Nebula. Like your drawings.”

He’s right, and wrong. You’ve drawn these ionised clouds countless times, trying to capture the whirl of molecular disruption without losing the scale of the nebula. You’ve mastered the shape: the sketches pinned around your bunk are evidence enough of that. But you’ve always been frustrated with your inability to recreate the brightness of the real thing. Now, gazing out at it, you feel humbled. No human could have reproduced this much vibrance. 

He’s talking again. “I only regret that an opportunity to bring you here hadn’t presented itself sooner. But the timing seemed pertinent, and with our convenient proximity to Roxuli following the last run, it simply felt necessary to… Well, when I was able to redirect the rest of the crew, I thought… What I mean to say is… Happy birthday.” Warmth settles in your chest. There was no secret assignment. He remembered, and he was trying to surprise you. Which is why you’re so touched that he still looks so nervous, blinking hard at his datapad. Filled with affection, you lean across and kiss him lightly on his cheek.

“Thank you, Tech.”

His owlish, bright eyes look even larger than normal as warmth creeps under the copper of his skin and up his neck. You can’t help but grin at him. This brilliant, earnest man; so capable and precise… blushing. He returns your smile with a hint of self-consciousness, adjusting his goggles to sit further up his nose. 

“There is one more thing.” He taps twice more at the datapad, and sets it aside as the ship’s internal lights dim. Low music fills the space, washing over you as gently as the colours through the viewport. It’s Core-world music; the beat strident but the words gentle. Wordless, your lips part as you look across at him. I could never define all that you are to me. 

His eyebrows draw down slightly, as though he’s making a calculated risk with his next words. “This seemed to be the closest aural approximation I could find to the… way I feel about you.”

Clearing his throat, he stands and offers you one of his long-fingered hands to ease you to your feet beside him. With his touch light around your waist, his awkwardness falls away. It’s not dancing; not really. More of a gentle swaying; undulating with the swirl of the forming galaxy beyond the small ship. Floating deep in an ocean of stardust.

[honeyatsu]

Loner (Junpei x F!Reader)

Reader implied POC! but ofc anyone can read <3

warnings: none that I can think of

Summary: 

Junpei was suspicious of you. He always felt the world was filled with people who were naturally evil in some way, until you came into his life and challenged his theory.

masterlist

Spotify playlist - all the songs I listened to helping me write this story. lmao and songs that helped inspire some parts. Think of it as an unorganized soundtrack. 

AO3

a/n: Hiii. He deserved better. I was rewatching and got mad all over again. The first time I saw his character arch I almost threw the whole show away lmfao but I can’t wait to continue the manga during summer! There wasn’t enough content so I decided to make some. 

The familiar dark marble floors were all Junpei would keep his eyes on as he walked to his next class, the chatter of his fellow classmates bouncing around the walls acting as background noise he would attempt to mentally cancel out. Junpei didn’t bother to look anyone in the eye, it’s not as if he had anyone to look forward to seeing anyways truthfully. High school was supposed to be a place where the best memories were made, but Junpei couldn’t relate to those empty promises of those being his best years. Everyday feeling as if there was a target on his back for his unfriendly peers; he would do his best to hide within the shadows he felt comfortable in, doing his best to make himself as invisible as possible. His only goal was being to survive the day without being bothersome to others.

Just as before, staring at the ground and ignoring the chatter going on in the classroom he made his way to the conjoined desk in the back of the room. He sat on the desk and began pulling out the material, his first time raising his head during the day to scan the room, everyone but one other person having a sitting partner. It didn’t sting him that he was sitting alone, that’s how things usually went for him. He was either alone or ostracized, finding being alone the better option of the two.

As the teacher began to lecture about the importance of being prepared for the advanced chemistry class, Junpei began to scribble down in his notebook taking notes already. His eyes didn’t leave his notepad until he heard the large bang of the classroom door hitting the wall.

“I’m sorry for being late!” you screamed while bowing to the class, panting and catching your breath with your hands now holding on to your knees. It was easy to tell that you ran to class and still managed to be notably late.

The teachers rolled her eyes at you, unfazed by your obnoxious entrance in the classroom. “Just choose a seat.” She scowled before returning to the beginnings of her lecture.

Your eyes scanned the room before you noticed the empty spot in the combined desk in the back, you didn’t even look at the person who would be sitting beside you, you just knew you wanted the desk farthest away from the front to prevent being called on during class.

Junpei on the other hand cursed himself as he saw you rush to the seat next to him; he knew that the seat was your target as soon as he noticed your eyes land on it. He recognized who you were, he knew who your friends were. Why would you sit next to him? What was your plan, to mock him? His heart was beating rapidly the closer you got, his palms began sweating. He doesn’t know if he can manage being picked on in class, he has never had a personal interaction with you but what made you different from your friends?

You rushed your way to your seat and began to drag the items from your bag onto the desk. Your elbow accidentally bumped into the classmate next to you, the physical action causing a small yelp from the boy. You finally turn to see him, the first thing you noticed were his eyes, they were the kind of green that would kiss over the ground during the beginning of spring time, probably the prettiest green eyes you’ve ever seen. His hair was brown and reached his shoulders, with one bang large enough to cover the right side of his face. You were too enchanted by his appearance that it took you a while to see how uncomfortable he was. His body was slightly trembling as your elbow was still making physical contact with him, his eyes slightly widened, he wasn’t even trying to hide how uncomfortable he was with the accidental physical reaction along with you staring at him as if he had three heads.

“Sorry.” You whispered to him removing your elbow from his side and looking down at your stationary materials, organizing them on the desk. From the corner of your eyes you can see him looking down at his desk, his body was stiff, and you could tell he was still uncomfortable. “If me sitting here bothers you, I’ll move…. it’s just this is a hard class and I don’t want to be called on all the time and embarrass myself.” You turn to face him and see that he still isn’t looking at you. “But please put up with me. I promise I won’t distract you.”

His eyes perked up while hearing your last sentence, he didn’t expect you to have such a kind and sincere tone. He finally brought his head up, slighting turning his head to face you. He couldn’t point out where he’s seen eyes like yours before, and he saw the small smile formed on your lips. People have smiled at him before and he can usually tell how people are feeling by looking at their eyes. He was good at reading people, he had to be just to survive. But he couldn’t read you, he couldn’t tell how you were feeling towards him. He doesn’t remember the last time someone showed him any sort of sincerity.

“No…it’s fine. You can sit here.” He managed to whisper out while looking back down scribbling down some notes.

Fifteen minutes went by, the class slowly dragging out and it being harder to focus. Junpei’s head was starting to feel heavy, he didn’t regain complete focus until he noticed the ink getting lighter on his notebook. He scribbled fast and hard, trying to get ink out before realizing it was completely dry. He cursed himself in his head, his day just starting and already something had to go wrong. Hearing the sound of rough scribbling on the paper your eyes darted to his side, seeing the pen drag only putting scratches on the sheet.

His head turned towards you out of curiosity, hearing the aggressive rustling from you digging in your bag. Your eyes focused and face scrunched up in concentration, your tongue slightly sticking out. He wanted to think you were cute, but he knew who your friends were, and that group was anything but cute. While he was deep in thought about how unfortunate it was that he already knew the type of person you were by your crowd, he almost missed the sense of accomplishment displayed on your face as you pulled out a packet of glitter pens. Your smile grew as you turned to him, realizing he was already looking at you. You were satisfied with the first instance of eye contact with your desk mate. He felt the heat rise to his cheeks; he didn’t need a mirror to know the red hues were forming on his face embarrassed with getting caught staring at you.

“These are my favorite pens.” You whispered to him, still looking at him not caring that he looked away for a second. “I only share these with my friends.” His eyes grew wide, were you going to rub in his face that his pen went out on him? What kind of teasing was this, for you to make fun of something so small? He was appalled that he knew he was right, you sat next to him just to -

“So, lets be good friends, okay?” You cut off his train of thought as you placed a dark blue glitter pen on his desk. He slowly turned to you, seeing the same smile on your face from earlier, the same smile he couldn’t quite read.

He nodded back at you nervously, his hands shaking as he grabbed the pen you placed onto his side of the desk. You nodded to him as you returned to focusing on the lesson, knowing his nod was his way of saying ‘thank you’ without speaking.

Junpei had trouble focusing on the rest of the lesson, hands still shaking while using the pen you let him borrow.

                  ---------------------------------------------------------

Your body ached as you dragged yourself out of the school grounds. Cheer club just ended, and you were exhausted from learning the basics of it considering this would be your first time being in the cheer club. The sun was out still, slowly going down making the sky a mix of yellow, orange and red. The only thing you could think about was going home and hoping that your mom had left over food from the dinner the other day.

While walking to the direction of your house you noticed a boy with a slender build a few feet away from you, and once you saw the long bang you grew excited, recognizing him as the boy you sat next to in class. All the energy you lost regained quickly as you ran up to your new friend. “Hey!” You screamed as you ran into his back, tripping on the cracked ground while making your way towards him. You held on to his sides to prevent you from falling, his body tensed up at the sudden contact and you screaming at him.

His heart dropped, he thought he was able to go an entire day without being picked on. He was confused, he didn’t think you’d bother him too. He made sure to not get in anyways way today, he just wanted a day where he could be in the background and be left alone, but at the last moment of him being on his way home you appeared out of nowhere and ran into him. Were you trying to push him down? Did you get angry he never gave the pen back? Were you being kind to trick him before you finally got to pick on him like the rest of your friends?

“I’m sorry!” You squealed out. You removed your hands from his back and walked towards him, giving him a tired smile.

You apologized for hitting him, why did you apologize?

“Didn’t mean to run into you! I just left my club and saw you walking, I wanted to say hi. I’m sorry for making you uncomfortable, again.” You laughed out awkwardly. Junpei gave you a confused look. He was suspicious of you, what did you want from him for you to constantly acknowledge him unprovoked? Sure, he’ll let go of the class interaction. You guys were desk mates, you were probably being cordial. You lend him your pen because you noticed his ran out, unlike your friends you at least had common decency. But why would you come up to him outside of class? What could you possibly gain from talking to him outside of having to?

The pen. Once he remembered he never gave it back, he retrieved it from his pocket and brought it out, extending his hand out to give it to you. “I-I never said thank you. Here, you can have it back.”

Once you saw what he was trying to do you laughed at his actions, “I gave it to you silly. It’s yours to keep! I mean we’re friends after all, right?”

His breathe got caught in his throat, he felt unable to respond. He tried to find any signs of malice in your face but couldn’t find anything.

“Oh, right. I sound funny declaring friendship when I don’t even think I’ve given you my name! I’m y/n.” You said with a smile.

For the first time, he returned it back to you softly. “Junpei.”

You opened your mouth to say something back, but your next sentence was disrupted with a loud growl from your stomach. Your eyes widened in embarrassment as your squealed and brought your arms to your side, squeezing your stomach.

“Sorry!” you said quickly, “I just left my club. It was a lot of work today, my body is exhausted and I’m starved.”

Junpei laughed at your reaction, you smiled realizing you got another first from him today.

“Hey Junpei, are you busy?”

“Uhm, I was just going to walk home now…” he replied back to you softly.

“How about we get some ramen! I know this great place not too far from school. I was gonna eat at home, but there probably isn’t food anyways. And you’re here so I don’t gotta go alone! You’ll love it I promise, it’s so good.” You continued to ramble on. You didn’t even give Junpei a chance to respond to you before you grabbed his wrist and dragged him along to the direction of the ramen restaurant. You were walking in front of him as he was being dragged behind you, you were holding onto his wrist the entire way there. He was glad you didn’t get a chance to see his flustered face the entire way there.

        ----------------------------------------------------------------------------

“You’re seriously not going to finish?” Your voice was muffled due to your cheeks being stuffed with the food in your mouth. It was hard not to stare at you while you were eating, he’s never seen a girl eat so aggressively or fast. You took a big swallow of the remaining food in your mouth, his eyes grew wide noticing your bowl, completely empty. “How embarrassing, I’m done already.” You whined out noticing his bowl looking as if its barley been touched.

“I don’t eat much.”

“I guess I should have asked if you had an appetite before I invited you. All I did was embarrass myself.” You sighed as you leaned back in your booth, rubbing your bloated stomach for comfort.

“I-it’s okay! Um, I’m…sorry?”

You couldn’t help but laugh at his flustered expression, “You’re real funny, you know?” You took out your phone and whined as you noticed how late it was getting. “It’s getting so late and I totally forgot I had chores! My moms gonna kill me!” You hurriedly got up and grabbed your school bag.

Before you walked away you turned to Junpei, “I hope we do something like this again one day.” And with that being the last thing you said, you ran out of the restaurant and headed your way home.

Junpei was in his head the entire way home. This by far had to be the most confusing school day he’s had. He tried not so hard to think about the classroom interaction, but then you basically forced him to hang out with you after school hours. Friends weren’t something Junpei had a lot of, he grew up being bullied and it followed him even at the age of seventeen. Outside of his few club members, he didn’t really talk to anyone let alone see them after school.

He’s seen you around before, you were pretty popular. You were always surrounded by friends; he can’t say he was fond of any of them. You declared him as your friend, but didn’t you know what your friends did to him? He couldn’t tell if you were genuine, and he wasn’t ready to let his guard down yet. This was too suspicious for him.

All he had on you so far was:

You were very peculiar, your aura screamed kindness but it could be too good to be true. He had just met you after all.

You had a problem with being on time.

Him being in his head made his walk home seem quicker than it usually was, time flew by as he was mentally theorizing who you were as a person and what was your plan with him. He didn’t even hear his mother greet him as he walked in, asking if he was hungry and ready to eat.

“Junpei? Are you not going to eat?”

“Hm?” He finally looked up from the ground facing his mom. “Oh, no. Sorry. I didn’t tell you I went out to eat after school. With a….friend.”

next

[joheunsaram]

In Plain Sight (knj)

Summary- After weeks of preparation and stress, you believed you were ready for the opening night of your restaurant. However, nothing could have prepared you for the sight of your ex waiting for you.

word count- 2k

pairing- idol!Namjoon x chef!Reader (feat. bff!Seokjin, brother!Jungkook)

rating- PG

genre- angst, exes to (maybe) lovers

warnings- none to note, Namjoon eats mincho

a.n- Happy birthday to my bae, Beezy @hobeemin​! I hope you had the best day and that this isn’t too late haha. I know you requested this for my March drabbles but I got carried away. Here’s some angst to heal your soul!

A huge shout out to @casuallyimagining​ and @missgarnet​ for beta reading! 💕

As always feedback appreciated, a reblog and a like goes a far way. Send me an ask! 💌

-

You sighed in relief as the first customers of the night started pouring in. This was it. This was what you had been working towards for the past ten years. After years of culinary school, slaving away as a sous chef and begging investors, tonight was the night that you unveiled your new restaurant.

You ran your clammy hands over your pants as you greeted your guests, the most radiant smile on your face, before checking in with the kitchen. Even before the grand opening, the fact that one of your investors was the beloved chef Baek Jong-won, had people excited about your restaurant. It had put a lot of pressure on you, but watching your head chef prepare the kitchen for the dinner rush calmed your nerves. It was comforting being in the back, the clatter of pans and shouts of commands made you feel at home.

“Checking up on me already, boss?” Seokjin asked, chuckling as he draped a towel over his shoulder. In addition to being your head chef, Seokjin was also your best friend, supporting you over the years to make your dream come true.

“Can never be too sure, what with your habit of getting distracted by your reflection,” you joked, earning a scowl and a whack from Seokjin’s towel. Pushing him back, you laughed as he yelled at you for almost killing him, his dramatics at an all time high, probably the same nerves churning through him as you.

Where the kitchen was chaotic, the front of the house was almost serene, a low rumble of conversation offset by a soft jazz playlist you had spent hours curating. Your nerves dissipated as the first orders arrived, the customers smiling and nodding at the first taste. 

Moving behind the bar, you checked on Jungkook, your younger brother and bartender. No one would have ever thought the two of you would end up working together, given the fights you had all through your childhood, the scar of one of them permanently etched on his cheekbone. 

“Did you invite him?” He asked as he shook a drink, the ice rattling obnoxiously in the metal container. 

“Who?” You asked, your nose scrunching at the aggressive way he made the drink. You swore if he broke another glass you were going to take it out of his paycheck, shared gene pool or not. 

“Namjoon,” he whispered theatrically, using his eyes to point towards the corner of the room. The sound of his name set you on edge, your heart in your throat. 

You hadn’t thought of your ex for over two years, since the night he walked out on you and you vowed to never let anyone take control of your happiness and leave you broken on a whim. However, that didn’t stop you from following your brother’s eyeline to the more secluded tables of your restaurant. 

He looked different. So different that it cracked the carefully constructed armour around you, a frown etching onto your features as you took him in. Dressed head to toe in black, you wouldn’t have noticed him if it weren’t for Jungkook.

He looked out of place, anxious, as he drummed his fingers on the menu, staring at it intently. The hood of his oversized jacket was atop his head concealing his dyed blonde hair, and his black mask was pulled low on his chin, leaving his bare face on display as if his new album wasn’t currently at number one. 

He was biting his lip, his brows scrunched together and it sent you back to two years ago, the memories flooding your brain as the ache you’d worked endlessly to ignore reared its ugly head once again. 

“We should break up,” Namjoon said, his lower lip between his teeth, as he stood in the doorway. He was still dressed in his outfit from the shoot he had returned from; a shiny silver bomber jacket adorned atop a plain black outfit, his makeup still on perfectly. It gave him an ethereal look, all flaws hidden from view as he looked at you in your striped blue pyjamas, hair up in a messy bun, face puffy from sleep. 

His words felt like you had been hit with ice water, like you were skating on a frozen river and it gave way from under you plunging you into a panicked cold that felt akin to a burn. You didn’t know how long he watched you, your face neutral after you demanded an explanation. 

“It’s not fair to you, Berry,” he said, voice soft and broken as he finally made his way to the bed. He sat as far away from you as he could and the distance seemed to stretch on for miles. You were confused by his sudden change. Just yesterday he had arrived home with smiles and cuddled into you immediately, just as he had done for the past three years, but today you were hard pressed to find that warmth, his gaze never meeting yours. 

“You don’t get to decide what’s fair to me,” you stated. “We are not breaking up.” Decision made, you slipped the cover over yourself as you reclined back into your supine position. 

“I can’t do this anymore,” he muttered, almost silently but the quiet of the room gave him away, his distraught weaving itself in your skull. 

“Juniper, let’s talk about this,” you pleaded, a hand reaching to grab onto his that he shrugged off. 

“No. If we talk about this you will convince me to stay and I just can’t do this anymore.”

“What did I do?” Your voice was soft, as if you spoke any louder it would startle the seemingly broken man in front of you. 

“It’s not you, it’s me,” he spoke the cliche, his dimples making an appearance in the sad smile he gave in your direction. You didn’t understand what was happening. Namjoon was a man of many words, slinging together poetry out of thin air in seconds, inspired by the mundane. He continued, talking over your thoughts, as he explained the reasons he was hurting you, the reasons he was a bad partner. All reasons that you have never even conceived - a product of his overthinking, anxious mind. Every time you would argue, he would counter with his own failings, like how he couldn’t make it to your culinary school graduation and how his fame made him unavailable to go to whenever you needed him. 

Namjoon cried, inconsolable even when you tried to assure him that his failings were in his imagination, that you were happy, content. But he had a notoriously one-track mind, and the only conclusion he could come to was that he couldn’t bear to be with you any more. 

“Seeing you always waiting for me breaks my heart,” he whispered as he held you, your face in his hands as he smiled for your benefit. You didn’t know how to convince him otherwise, but the way he kissed you, tasting of salt and regret, you knew it would be the last time he would do so. 

When he left that night, you finally cried, mourning a relationship that he snatched away from you, before the tears turned to rage, heartbreak manifested into indignation. 

“Are you going to talk to him?” Jungkook broke you out of your reverie just before you could further relive the sorrow. 

“No. Absolutely not. He can enjoy his solo dinner,” you replied, turning on your heels to go into your office, your excitement for the night overshadowed by Namjoon’s sudden reappearance. It wasn’t bad enough that you had to see him in your restaurant but as you turned on a random playlist fate decided that you would hear him too as he talked about your break up on his new single. His sultry vocals rapped about his self loathing and need to please only to realize that he left the only person who loved him for himself. You were bitter that he had this epiphany, bitter that he was monetizing on something that was as much your heartbreak as his. 

But what Namjoon wants, Namjoon gets, and as the dinner rush ended and the crowd dwindled with last call, he was still sitting in the corner table, sequestered away from eyes as he played with his dessert. He must have known that the chocolate bon bons were inspired by him, dubbed Juniper like you had called him all those years, and extra mint added just to spite him. The same way he had named his new song Back to Berry, an homage to no one else but you. 

When he refused to leave even after Jungkook asked, you had no choice but to act civil and make your way towards him. He gasped as you unceremoniously settled in the chair in front of him, eyes widened as if he had seen a ghost. As if he had not been waiting three hours for this exact moment

“What are you doing, Namjoon?” You asked, arms folded across your chest as you glared at the face you once thought you couldn’t live without. 

“I’m eating dessert,” he answered, averting your hardened gaze to poke his fork at the food. 

“We’re closing,” you said, your hand waving to your wait staff that had started clearing tables and sweeping the floors. “And you hate mint chocolate,” you added as he took a bite. 

“It was calling my name,” he chuckled humourlessly, before he sighed pushing the plate away. He finally met your eyes then, a soft smile on his face, his dimples poking their way from his cheeks into your heart. “Congratulations. You did it.”

“Yeah. Alone.” You were bitter. He had left you, practically ghosted you for two years and now he thought it was okay to waltz back in?

“I’m sorry,” he said, dropping all pretenses as his hand reached towards you. “I’m so sorry, Berry.”

The use of his old nickname for you broke your heart and your facade as you looked at his hand placed directly in front of you on the table, a finger slowly caressing your forearm, almost out of reach. You couldn’t help the way your eyes glistened at his touch, tender and apprehensive. How could he think it was okay to come here? How could you think you wouldn’t forgive him if he asked?

In that moment all you wanted was to run back into his arms, kiss him, delve back into that chaotically beautiful brain of his, but your pride was stronger than all the apologies in the world. 

“It’s too late,” you said as you stood up, his head dropping as he retracted his hand back into his lap. “We’re closed. Goodbye, Juniper.” You gestured to the door, waiting for him to collect his bag, watching as he dropped much more money than his bill on the table before he made his way to the door. 

Turning around he looked at you, catching you staring at him with tear streaked cheeks. “I’m not going to give up, Berry”

“You never do, do you?”

“Never when it comes to you,” he said, covering his face with his mask and adjusting the hood atop his head before disappearing into the quiet street. 

That night you felt your defences weaken a little when you got a message from an unknown number. 

I forgot to tell you. I still miss you. Even after 708 days.

-

taglist: @cheesecakes-randomshitz​, @aroseforyoongi​, @awhnamjoon​, @agustdjoon​, @codeinebelle​ 

I hope you enjoyed the angst! For more fics of mine check out my masterlist

[wavyhairedbabyy]

Idiots - Part 2

Karl Jacobs x gn!reader

tldr: They’ve both got a crush. Sucks, since they’re the only ones oblivious to it. (Slow Burn!)

CW: none, fluffy :))

a/n: Picnic portion was inspired by Sunflower by Rex Orange County :) Sorry it took so long! Major writers block on this but now I’m back :)))

edited yet?: yes - let me know if I missed anything!

Part 1 - Part 2

“So we agree, I’m Eve and you’re Wall-E?” y/n asked as the credits began to roll.

“I want to sit here and disagree with you just to spite you, but I can’t,” Karl responded, “I could 100% see you blasting someone for just walking funny on a bad day.”

“I’d blast you just for the hell of it,” Y/n jumped onto their feet raising their arms up in a big stretch after sitting for the movie.

“Bad choice,” Karl reached his arms to the side of their body, immediately tickling them. Y/n immediately screamed out his name, trying to move themselves out of his grasp. As soon as Karl noticed this, he grabbed their arm to pull them back on to the sofa.

“You’re... going... to... regret... this!” Y/n huffed out, thrashing against him. Karl’s giggles and their screams echoed around the house. It wasn’t until y/n mustered up all of their strength to push him of the couch for them to escape his clutches.

Y/n ran to the bathroom, quickly locking the door behind them. Karl quickly ran behind them only to have the door slammed in his face, “Aw, c’mon y/n, let me in.”

“After that stunt you pulled? In your dreams, Jacobs,” Y/n turned toward the sink, ignoring Karl’s attempts to unlock the door. The only thing on their mind was their night routine and then hitting the hay.

As y/n started the warm water, the door swung opened making them jump. At the door frame stood Karl with a quarter in his hand, “Next time you should check to see what kind of lock I have.”

“Whatever, smart ass,” y/n rolled their eyes playfully, reaching for their tooth brush. They brushed their teeth as Karl scrolled through his phone. After the flight, unpacking, and a night with Karl, y/n just wanted to head to bed. They couldn’t even imagine how Karl felt with all the Mr. Beast stuff. After rinsing their mouth they asked, “You goin’ to bed too?”

Karl shook his head, “Nah, I’m going to stream for an hour or two. Nick and Alex want to practice for this Minecraft Championship thing so I’m gonna root them all while also roasting the crap out of them.”

Y/n should’ve known, especially with the mountains of energy drinks in his fridge. The man probably never sleeps, “Well you enjoy that. I’m knocking out for the night.”

Karl nodded. “I figured. You and you grandma schedule,” he giggled, resulting in a pout from them.

“You say that as if dealing with sleep deprived me isn’t one of the worst things in the world.”

“I mean, you got me there,” he shrugged. He walked over to them, wrapping his arms around them tightly, “Goodnight. Knock on my door if you need anything at anytime, okay?”

Y/n nodded, hugging back just as tightly. They wished this could last together. His smell was comforting, reminding her of happiness and serenity. His hold made them feel safe, like nothing could hurt them as long as he was there. The feeling ended too quickly as he pulled away, giving them one last smile before heading off to his stream room.

Y/n looked at themselves in the mirror, huffing to themselves. Going from not seeing Karl for over a year to all Karl all the time felt like sensory overload. The butterflies, the emotions, their head racing with thoughts that they shouldn’t have for someone who is just their best friend - it was a lot.

This was going to be a long week.

***

Y/n woke up to the sun’s rays gleaming through the blinds. Looking at their phone, they saw that it was 9AM. Juggling between the staying in bed and getting up, y/n decided that getting up was the better option. The last thing they wanted to do was go back to bed and mess up their “grandma schedule,” as Karl would call it.

Moving out of the bed, they reached their limbs as far as they could stretch them. After picking their outfit, they journeyed to the bathroom to get their morning started. On the way over, they peeked into Karl’s room and saw him still asleep. They had no idea when he had gone to bed so they shut the door quietly, making their way to the bathroom once again.

As they were brushing their teeth, y/n realized it was the day they were going to the warehouse for a Mr. Beast video. They knew they weren’t going to be filmed, but the nerves were still there. They had met Chris, which was helpful, but not Jimmy yet. What if they messed up a shot? Or messed up any equipment? Not touching anything while they were there seemed like a fool proof idea.

Y/n finished up their morning routine as they kept thinking of ways to not fuck anything up. Making their way to the kitchen, they knew the one thing that could - somewhat - calm their nerves: coffee.

Y/n happily found a jar of instant coffee. Not the best, but it’ll do. Upon unscrewing the jar, they noticed it a plastic film seal up which confirmed that it was brand new. Did Karl get this just because he knew they were coming? They couldn’t recall him ever drinking caffeine that wasn’t from an energy drink. Y/n didn’t know, but the idea of it made their heart melt.

***

Once Karl woke up, he and y/n made a quick breakfast together made their way over to the warehouse.

“I don’t know why, but I’m really nervous. I don’t even know what I’m nervous about. I know it’s going to be fine, but.... I don’t know,” y/n expressed on the drive there. It was a brand new experience and they didn’t know what to expect. They’ve never been on a set of any kind let alone one for someone as well known as Mr. Beast.

“Hey, you’ll be okay. I know it can feel overwhelming, especially for your first time. I’ll be there if you need anything,” Karl comforted them through their nerves. He held their hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, “If you ever need a minute, don’t wait to ask. Just take it.”

Y/n smiled at him. He was always great at making sure they were comfortable wherever they went. While the nerves were still there, they felt a lot better knowing Karl was available, even among the chaos that may ensue.

***

The day at the warehouse went really well. Y/n’s nerves went away about an hour in, but that didn’t stop Karl from checking every now and then. Y/n was grateful that they respected them not wanting to be filmed, especially when they started filming a Fear Factor like video with snakes, cockroaches, and tarantulas. With all the creatures around, it didn’t take long for them to grab one of the smaller boa constrictors and start chasing Karl around with it.

“Y/N! STOP! WHAT DID I EVER DO TO YOU?” Karl screeched, running away from them.

“REMEMBER THAT TICKLE ATTACK FROM LAST NIGHT? TOLD YOU YOU WOULD REGRET IT!” Y/n yelled back. They were laughing the entire time while Karl continued his screaming. Their fun chasing Karl was cut short when snake man had to start packing away his animals.

At some point during the day, y/n had taken a step outside for a social break. Chris took this time to continue the conversation he and Karl had in the car. Walking over to his friend, he asked, “So have you told them yet?”

Karl looked around to ensure you hadn’t come back or were around before responding, “No, I’m going to wait until right before they leave. I’m scared that I’ll tell them and it’ll ruin the week.”

Chris looked at Karl, absolutely dumbfounded, “Dude, I can’t believe the two of you. And you two acted the way you did today in college too?”

“I mean, yeah. We’re best friends. What’s wrong with how we’re acting?” Karl gave him a confused look.

“Nothing but it’s so painfully obvious y’all are into each other. I didn’t pick it up yesterday, but y/n is totally into you too, man,” Chris explained, “Even Chandler was able to pick it up. He thought I was kidding when I said you two weren’t a low-key thing. Please do both of yourselves a favor and just tell them.”

This conversation ran through Karl’s head the rest of the day. Did y/n really like him back? The thought of that made his stomach do flips. He became hyper aware of all y/n’s actions and they suddenly meant more to him. When they high-fived, he felt his hand on fire when they weaved their fingers with his. He was more aware of their body on his when they hugged, butterflies flying through his stomach when they gave him a squeeze.

The drive home was spent by y/n non-stop talking about how much of a great day they had right after a heated debate on where they would be picking up dinner. They were too tired to even thinking about cheffing up a meal. What y/n didn’t know was the nerves hidden underneath Karl’s semi-cool exterior on how he planned on confessing his feelings. Luckily, “semi-cool” was his middle name.

The two had stopped at the Asian fusion place they decided to pick up food from. As they got into the car, Karl’s eyes lit up as he came up with an idea for dinner and turned to y/n.

Y/n, noticing this, furrowed their brows and said, “You either have a really good idea or a really dumb idea, and I think you’re going to tell me whether I want to hear it or not.”

“You are absolutely right!” Karl giggled, “Anyways, to keep it short and simple, picnic in the park? I have a blanket and we can pick up some ice cream or something.”

“That... actually is a great idea! I’m starting a playlist now and I’ll share it with you. How does ‘stupidly great vibes’ sound?”

“Sounds perfect.”

***

The two sat on a hill in a nearby park, digging into their dinner with the last minute playlist y/n had come up with playing in the background. The bottom of the sun was barely touching the horizon, getting ready to set and give the sky to the moon for the night.

The comfortable silence they had was one of their favorite things about their relationship. Neither of them ever felt pressure to fill the emptiness. Just being in each other’s company was entertaining and pleasing for both of them. They just watched their surroundings, while enjoying their food and each other’s presence.

After they clean up, the silence continued. They sat shoulder to shoulder, enjoying the moment they were in. They both would steal side glances at each other without the other noticing. Moving to lean their head on Karl’s shoulder, Y/n was looking at the sunset but their thoughts were swarmed with him and the last day and a half. They loved how he always made sure they were comfortable and welcomed in any setting. They loved they way his voices would crack during a fit of giggles. Just one day with him had their mind swirling in a pool of just him. His touch, his smell, his voice. They felt like they were in a trance with him.

Being with them, Karl realized how much happier he was with them there. He realized how much giddier he was waking up, how his mood had been uplifted with just their presence. He loved how headstrong they were, but never so much to the point that it hurt other people. He loved the way they could up his self esteem in the matter of a few minutes. The more and more he thought about it, the more he realized he loved them. He loved them more than just a best friend. He’s had for a handful of years. He wanted more than just the title “best friend.”

The two sat there, both individually coming to the realization that they have been falling in love with the other over the last few years. Neither caught onto each other’s hints while every outsider saw the love for one another other bloom.

Karl turned his head, spotting a small white daisy in the grass next to their blanket. He leaned over to grab it which forced y/n to lift their head from where it was, their eyes watching for what he was reach for. Plucking it from the grass, he leaned back and gave it to y/n.

“For you,” he practically whispered with the goofiest grin on his face. Y/n took the flower from his hand, returning his smile.

“Aw, thanks Karl.”

They locked eyes immediately after. Any plans Karl had in his mind on confessing to y/n immediately got thrown out the window, the hours of thinking gone to waste. In that moment, he blurted out the only words he could make sense of in that instant, “y/n... I think I’m in love with you.”

Y/n froze, trying to wrap the words he said around their head. They for sure thought they were awake but after his confession, they couldn’t be sure if they were in a dream or not. Their mind was reeling, making the task of forming a sentence that made sense a difficult one.

At the same time, Karl was giving himself a mental face palm. He wanted to confess his feelings, but not to that level. His nerves were on high alert, already assuming the worst was yet to come. He had to save the friendship at the very least.

“I-I’m sorry. It wasn’t supposed to come out like that,” he rambled, “But - uh- I’ve had a crush on you for a while now and I never wanted to ruin the friendship but if you’re uncomfortable with that, that totally makes sense-”

As he kept talking, y/n began to collect their thoughts. They thought he looked so cute when he nervously rambled but they had to cut him off eventually, knowing his anxiety levels were through the roof.

“Karl,” As soon as he heard their voice, his rambling stopped and kept all eyes on them. He looked at them waiting for a response but receiving none. Instead y/n wrapped their arms around him, enveloping him in a warm hug, “I think I’m in love with you too.”

Karl felt his heart explode. Chris was right. He hugged them back just as, if not more, tight. Any nerves he had running threw his body were replaced with pure happiness. He didn’t need to hold anything back from them anymore.

Y/n pulled away from the hug, leaning their foreheads together, “Can I kiss you?”

Karl smiled, “Honestly, it’s all I’ve want since I made that shot into your coffee.”

Y/n gave Karl a bewildered look, “What? That long?” They exclaimed

“Yeah, but we have the rest of the week to talk about it.” Karl leaned in, pressing his lips gently against theirs, wrapping his hands around them to bring them closer. The kiss was gentle and sweet, as if they would be woken up from a dream if they were anything but that.

They pulled away from kiss, but remained in each other’s arms. They stayed silent and enjoyed each other’s presence and touch, each meaning much more than they had just a few moments earlier. All that was left in the park was the semicircle of the sun on the horizon, a bag of food scraps, and two idiots, dumbfounded at the love they had for each other.

***

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