#thank you Jo for discovering these pics

[artemispt]

[nichoswag]

Hi :) Can I Request Jo (as Boyfriend) x Reader (Female) when she’s short? They checked on “Weekly Idol” and apparently Jo is 188cm😮😮 So I was inspired by that Hahaha!!! Thank you !!!

beanstalk . asakura jo

pairing: bf!jo x female reader

warnings: cheesy reader-can't-reach-the-top-shelf type scenario, teasing, jo bullies reader (he loves you i swear), reader gets revenge (joking), kissing, cutesy shit, crack & heavy fluff

synopsis: in which your boyfriend makes fun of you for being short and then you discover he thinks it's cute.

song rec: 20cm - tomorrow x together

a/n: sorry this took so long, i had a lot of requests coming in at the time i saw this :) also sorry for the terrible moodboard, i did not know what pics to use... anyway, here it is! enjoy ♡

you huff, frustrated at not being able to reach the shoebox on the shelf in your closet. you just know your boyfriend put it there on purpose. but what's his motive this time? does he want a kiss? a hug? or just for you to point out how tall he is in order to boost his ego.

you and jo have to leave in about twenty minutes for a party, and you want to wear the new shoes you'd gotten on your most recent shopping trip. however, now they're sitting on the top shelf in your closet, while you remember putting them on the floor near your bed.

"this guy is so lucky i'm in love with him or i would've probably murdered him by now," you mutter.

"what's that?"

you nearly jump out of your skin.

long arms wrap around your waist as your boyfriend leans down to place his chin on top of your head.

"what'd you say about me?" he asks in a playful tone. you glance at him through the full-length mirror next to you, sighing. "something about you being in love with me-"

"and wanting to kill you, don't forget about that part," you grin, turning around in his arms to face him.

his grip on you grows tighter as he glances up at the box you were just reaching for. "need help with something?"

"nope, i've got it," you huff stubbornly.

it's now been five minutes. you definitely don't got it.

jo, who was lying down on your bed, sits up. "still don't need any help?"

you sigh, running a hand through your hair. then, you muster up the cutest, most sweetly manipulative face you can manage, and turn back towards your boyfriend. "joooo~ could you pleeeeease grab my shoebox for me?" you ask in your cutest voice.

you can see your boyfriend's expression soften from a teasing one to a sweet one, and you giggle.

"fine," he huffs. he walks closer to you as you take steps backwards, until he's caging you against the closet wall. he puts his arm up to reach the box but makes no effort to grab it. "where's my payment?" he asks.

you tilt your head to the side like a puppy. "what- what do you mean?"

"you know exactly what i mean," he says, his tone deeper as his eyes darken.

he leans in and presses his lips against yours as he presses you further into the closet wall. your arms wrap around his neck as he grips your waist, pulling you as close to him as possible. his lips move in sync with yours, the pace making you pull away to gasp for air.

"oh my god," you breathe, in shock at the fact that you just made out with your boyfriend so randomly. "you need to stop doing that. i'm gonna have a heart attack."

he chuckles. you lean up to kiss him again, but he grabs the box and shoves it into your arms, running out of the room.

"we're gonna be late!" he yells from the other room.

"i'm almost ready, you beanstalk!"

©nichoswag | do not copy my work or repost onto any other platform.

[rimunagenius]

Best Show Ever

დ Pairing: Josette Maskin x rockstar!reader

დ Warning: RPF!! some suggestive talk?, definite blurred platonic/romantic lines, and literal gay panic fluff

დ Word Count: 2.5k (whoops got carried away)

დ a/n: okay so this is my very first sapphic fic that i’ve ever written. It’s also very self indulgent and i’m pretty i requested it on someone acc and it had almost the same plot line, it’s most likely me (i forgot if i requested anonymously or not) but anyways!! I HOPE YOU LIKE THIS. i also used both preferred pronouns of jo’s so i’m sorry if it’s a little confusing. this pic is the vibe i was going for with reader x josette! ;)

დ

As a friend of Munagenuis, you were commonly spotted in the VIP sections of their concerts singing and dancing along to almost every song on their set lists. You were a superfan even though you had just as big of a following and sold-out arenas like this.

Most of the time you were on the side stage while they performed and made surprise appearances now and then when they happened to sing one of your featured songs. You met them through being one of your other fellow openers for Taylor Swift. 

You guys had met as you were a solo artist and wanted to not be alone in a pretty nerve-wracking situation such as opening for a huge sold-out stadium. You had all been backstage and that's when Pheobe had walked up to you completely starstruck because she had been a fan of yours for so long and meeting you backstage at a Taylor Swift concert was peak experience. In her words.

You couldn't believe it because you had discovered Lucy Dacus and went through a wormhole of her music where you discovered boygenius and eventually went down an even bigger wormhole for Pheobe. You loved their group and solo music. This was an unreal experience. You had listened to MUNA for a while, ever since you started your career. You just couldn’t wrap your head around this experience.

That's when she introduced you to MUNA and you couldn't even listen to anything she said because this beautiful person was just standing right in front of you, arm stretched out, waiting to shake your hand as Pheobe kept talking. "Hi, I'm Josette. This is Naomi and Katie." She shook your hand as they pointed to their best friends. 

You waved at them awestruck that you finally meeting one of the many big inspirations for your music career. This was so surreal. Especially since your celebrity crush had shaken your hand not even three seconds ago. 

You had known of MUNA and boygenius for quite some time and it was crazy to think that they knew who you were and liked listening to your music. You guys had talked that whole night and cheered each other on while you guys opened the concert. Since that night, you had all been even bigger fans of each other and hung out almost all the time. 

Over time, you had grown super close to Jo. You thanked your lucky stars that this could have happened to you and selfishly speaking, absolutely no one else, because you could not fathom ever being in a room and having the best friendship you could have nurtured with Jo. 

Over a span of a year of knowing MUNA, Josette especially, it had speculated, your fandom and MUNA's, that you and Josette were seeing each other. You guys had always seemed to laugh it off and go on about your day. You had known that there was something there. Whether it was just simple attraction or sexual tension mixed with mutual attraction. Definitely the latter.

It only started to become clearer because at one show you had been on the stage with them, after the eras tour opening you guys got busy and made music together, so you had been on stage singing your verse in the song. It was a little sexually suggestive, as the whole theme of the song, and while you were singing, Josette had lead guitar on it. 

They were all in their element as they had sauntered up to you and suddenly dropped to their knees and abandoned looking at the guitar strings and just looked up at you with this look in their eyes. Someone had gotten footage, made an edit of it, and tagged you in an Instagram story. 

You had reposted it and captioned it in the corner at the bottom, "if she keeps looking at me like that, I'm gonna fall in love 😍🧘🏻‍♀️ @ jojolovedog" You had reposted to your story and in a matter of minutes your Twitter feed was blowing up and it was just of you and Jo. 

Josette saw your story within the hour and reposted and captioned hers "i alr did…😍😍" That alone broke the internet and your mind for the better part of the week. Ever since then the rumors of your infatuation and "secret relationship" had just grown like some mold in a dirty basement. 

So as it was uncommon now for you to make an appearance with them on stage, you got used to the attention that boygenius and MUNA attracted to themselves on stage. And your little gay heart ate it up every time. 

You loved how they had all been openly themselves, kissing each other, and just loving on each other throughout the show. So when MUNA sang their featured song with you and the boys, things got crazy. 

While Katie had started the song off, you and the boys were dancing around and having fun. Pheobe had been running around hugging Katie while she sang. Julien tried to pluck the right strings while Lucy kissed her in every possible open area of skin. You had been laughing and moving your hips slowly and seductively while watching Jo play her guitar. Watching you dance and move the way you were, was driving Josette mad. She almost almost forgot what she was supposed to be playing. Almost. You took that as her not paying attention but you hoped it was because of what you wanted it to be. 

Naomi was singing some background vocals when you walked up to her, Pheobe following right next to you, and you both kissed either one of their cheeks. She laughed and then kissed you both on the lips. A short peck each. After she had initiated the lip kissing, Pheobe followed, kissing you on your lips while she held your face. 

The crowd immediately got louder and more hyped when you two started to dance around and go chase Lucy. You both grabbed Lucy, her settling for lying down on the ground, singing partially what sounded like background vocals. Pheobe had sat under her head, Lucy's head resting perfectly in her lap while the platinum blonde leaned down and kissed Lucy passionately. 

You straddled Lucy, her hands finding your thighs as you grabbed her face and kissed her with what you hoped was as much passion as your best friend Pheobe. 

Jo had walked around the stage, playing next to Julien, kissing her on the lips which you would've imagined sent some fans into cardiac arrest. And while you had finished kissing Lucy, Jo had seen the position you had been in and she wouldn't lie and say that that didn't make her want to take you right there. Make you sit on her like that.

She was pretty sure you had felt it too. There's no way you'd flirt with her with your lips insanely close to theirs, the lingering touches, and the sleepovers where you somehow always ended up cuddling each other, and didn't feel a single thing. 

The way your hands would brush through their hair while her hand was on your thigh. The longing gazes you two shared were not platonic. Jo was determined tonight to make it clear that she needed you in more ways than just one, being your best friend. She wanted to flaunt you and kiss you any waking moment. She has had a crush on you since you came into the spotlight after all.

She couldn't do that if you guys continued to fake flirt with each other platonically. 

But as your verse in the song was coming up, you got up and adjusted the sheer black leggings, opting to leave your form-fitting black mini skirt hiked up on your thighs. You wouldn't lie and say that you didn't wear this because you knew how Jo looked at you. Your legs. 

Whether it was just friendly or romantically, romantically for sure, she'd make any comment she could about the way your legs looked and it was always made with her eyes trailing up and down them, then pulling you to sit on her lap. 

The band had to know you guys were never going to be just friends. Your behavior was more than just friends and the tension would have to be released at some point, so they just would sit and wait til either one of you acted on it. I mean they could only make so many "just fuck already!" comments before it got old. 

So leaving the skirt to reveal almost all of your legs was definitely the right move. And it was. Walking closer to Jo, and raising the mic to your lips, her eyes trailed from your ankle doc marten shoes all the way up to the apex of your thighs. Oh how she wished she had you alone so she could see what was under. 

As you started to sing, the other instruments faded to allow just Josette's guitar to be heard and she played it so well. You watched her fingers as you sung. She took notice and sunk to her knees and played, abandoning looking at the strings. The same song you guys played when you noticed your feelings for her weren't just platonic anymore. You continued to sing the verse, this time with Katie and Naomi, and some of the boys. Your eyes focused on the pretty brown ones in front of you. 

You reached down and cupped their chin, their chest rising and falling rapidly as they continued to move their fingers at an insanely fast pace. You then sunk to your knees right in front of Jo, your faces inches apart as you sang the last of what you needed to. 

It was now or never. 

You had promised yourself that today you were gonna tell her or show her how you felt, what was the harm in that? You play it off as the normal concert shenanigans if it went south...that'd work right? Oh well. If it did work out, a little hard launch never hurt no one. 

Moving the microphone from your lips, your eyes watching the brunette in front of you waiting for her to look back up at you. When she did, you finally leaned in. 

Your lips connecting, in what felt the best kiss you had in your entire fucken life. You felt like it was only you two in the world and her lips felt like the only lifeline available. God did her lips feel like heaven on earth. 

You knew you made the right decision when Josette completely kissed you back. She was thanking every lucky star and sapphic god in the universe that you felt the same way she did. She would've thought otherwise if you didnt slip your tongue in her mouth and kissed her for two more seconds before pulling away. 

When the two of you pulled apart, the crowd was losing their fucking minds. You turned and looked, as the song ended, Julien running up to your side and kissing your cheek, you saw that the crowd, at least 95% of them, had their phones out. 

You knew that this was definitely gonna be everywhere in the next 10 minutes and you honestly couldn't be happier. 

After the show, you were in your dressing room, door ajar to let anyone know that they could walk in if needed. 

No one had walked in so when you heard the door shut you were scared as you had been scrolling through your Instagram, airpods in, your back facing the door while you sat at your vanity. You turned and saw Jo standing there, bouquet of pink, red, and orange tulips with a hint of babies breath. Tulips and babys breath were your favorite flowers and you had told Jo the meaning of them which made you love them even more so seeing these after one of the longest tours you guys had been on together was heartwarming and tear inducing. 

"Hey, jojo." You beamed at the most beautiful human being in front of you. 

"Hey, pretty lady." She handed you the flowers and you turned and set them down on the vanity, turning back to face them. "You're so beautiful, you know that?" A slight blush creeped up on her perfect cheekbones but an even more noticeable smirk took solace on he rlips. 

"Oh my god, Jo. You're so beautiful, you know that?" You giggles adjusting a fallen curl on her forehead while repeating her compliment back to her. Your hand ended up on her cheek, your other following suit. Somewhere along then and now their arms wrapped around your waist, their fingertips ghosting under the black cropped longsleeve you were still wearing from the show. 

"Can I kiss you, gorgeous?" They whispered, their face insanely close to yours. Your knees were weak, your skin was on fire at the mere thought that Josette Maskin, your lifelong, queer celebrity crush, wanted you, and thought you were the most beautiful thing in this world. You could barely even breathe properly. 

"Yes." You faintly whispered. She almost missed it. Almost. Soon her lips found yours, in what started as small tender kiss soon became a heated makeout. Josette picked you up off the ground, her hands finding place in where she's only ever dreamed of putting them. Her hand picking you up from your thighs, might they say dangerously close to the part of your body that's begged and cried for her for the last year. 

She scooted the flowers over, and placed you down on the vanity, her hands gripping your hips for dear life. Almost as if they didn't, you'd disappear forever. Your hands immediately ran through the short curls on the top of their head. As the kiss progressed, your tongues now dancing together, your arms dropped and just hung off her shoulders. Your body weak but all the strength and love imaginable to ever be possessed by a human being, in your body, being poured into the passionate, long overdue makeout session. 

Once Jo's hands found the sides of your legs, a small moan escaping your lips, a satisfied groan leaving their lips, none other than Naomi knocked on the door. "Yeah uh we gotta go! So wrap up whatever moaning and groaning is going on in there, and let's get a move on. We're all hungry." Not breaking the kiss the whole time. 

You kissed down Jo's jawline and down the column of their neck before they panted, "C'mon baby. We gotta go. As much as I love this and don't want to stop...we have to." You looked up at her, pupils blown, and smile on your face, you sighed. 

"Baby, huh?" You smirked at her. A small giggle escaping your lips. God, you were so whipped. 

They leaned down and gave you one last very passionate kiss, and laughed. "Yes. You're my pretty girl, arent you?" Her eyebrow grew slanted, making a questioning look. You kissed the crease in between her eyebrows, grabbed your flowers from behind you and hopped off the vanity. 

"Of course. Wouldn't want it any other way, baby. You and me," you pointed between the two of you as you reached for her hand as you walked backwards. "are forever, baby." You pulled her along behind you until her feet caught up with yours, as you walked out the dressing room. 

Her arm now reaching behind you, pinching your ass for second before wrapping around your waist. "Never forget it, gorgeous." 

This turned out to be best show of your entire lives.

[undercoverpena]

welcome to jo’s march madness master list part uno

thank you to @the-blind-assassin-12 for this idea. i broke the original masterlist i did (the one i posted a few weeks ago), so welcome to the re-do... and it's pink!.

it has been lovely to read some new pieces, and discover some new writers. i've tried to break them down into characters, but I've not highlighted content warnings, so please check warnings/ratings.

some links ⥄ all my fic recs ⥄ are you after some less than 3k fics? check out @goodwithcheese's quick pic fic here

part two of the list here

FRANKIE MORALES

delta landscaping 14 + 15 by @rhoorl [triple frontier multi characters]

love language by @trulybetty

adrift with you chp. 8 + 9 by @morallyinept [frankie x ofc!jude]

always there for you by @pedroscurls

home by @dancingtotuyo

life is but a by @wordywarriorwrites

hold fast (series) by @jeewrites

imbued by @morallyinept

the melting point series (up to chp. 11 currently) by @penvisions

against the apples by @kteague

the study by @superhoeva

acts of service by @swiftispunk

he with the dark curls, you with the by @hellishjoel

tonight you belong to me chp. 3 by @intheorangebedroom

it's about the way you... by @penvisions

paper airplanes by @littlemisspascal

give me a minute by @katsheadinclouds

what comes after by @mrsmando

sweat by @sawymredfox

by your side by @alwaysbethewest

JAVI PEÑA

call me javi by wildemaven

safe place by @gnpwdrnwhiskey

every inch by @javierpena-inatacvest

señorita chapter by @lavendertales

take the weight off his shoulders chp. 8 by @thetriumphantpanda

pump by @morallyinept

part two of the list here

[femininexrage]

this is an independent roleplay blog for a fandomless oc named Lily Morgan ( 25 ), Bisexual. She’s a housekeeper at a motel in her small, midwestern hometown. She lives with her aunt who raised her, taking care of her while she’s sick.

CARRD

MEMES

PLAYLIST

PINTEREST

Written & loved by Ashlynn ( 29, she / her ). This blog is multi ship and multi verse. minors and personals DNI. Please respect me and my fellow rp partners. Thank you for taking the time to check out my blog. HAPPY ROLEPLAYING

a study in growing up, girlhood, feminine rage, discovering & loving yourself

Muse Info & Rules under cut

Lily was born in a small town. Shortly after her birth her mother took off leaving her with her aunt, Jolene. She raised her like she was her own. She was really all Lily knew. Just her and Aunt Jo. Her life wasn’t lavish. The two lived in a nice trailer park on the edge of town. Lily never complained though. She was happy. She spent her fries time writing and going to ballet classes after school.

Growing up she wanted to be a journalist. The girl was always going around investigating things that happened around the small town. She planned to go to college to be an investigative journalist but the summer before college, her aunt got sick and couldn’t work. Lily made the choice to wait on collage and stay home to take care of Jolene since she had raised her from the time she was born. She felt she owed her that.

Lily got a job at the local motel as a housekeeper and front desk assistant. She liked her job and she enjoyed meeting new people. She works full time, while taking a few night classes at the community college. Sometime things get hard for Lily but she tries to stay positive.

RULES

MEET THE MUN

Hey there, I’m Ashlynn, please call me Ash. I’m 29 years old. I work as a CNA at a center for developmentally disable. I work the am shift, full time ( 6 am - 2:30 pm )

I love writing, it’s been something that I love to do since I was young. My muses & blogs mean so much to me as well as all of my rp partners.

I do have a discord so ask for it if you’d like it.

No God-moding (pretty much a given)

Formatting : I typically try to match what my rp partner is doing, if they’re iconless i can do that. I can also use gif icons as well as gifs. I currently don’t have just rp icons but I will work on that.

I DO NOT accept any hate towards me or my fellow rpers.

I’m always open for plotting and planing out threads so just drop me an ask if you want to rp

This blog will most likely have NSFW pics, gifsets and threads. they will be tagged

if i post something that triggers you please, feel free to ask me tag

i have trouble replying to messages and what not, because I’m easily distracted. I’m not ignoring you I promise

i am multi verse & multi ship please respect that

following ; I follow who I can see myself and muses interacting with. I’m not 100% mutuals only but I can be selective with who I follow. If you follow me and then unfollow and follow again you’ll earn a soft block and if you continue to do it I will hard block. That gives me anxiety please respect my choice not to follow back thank you

i can at times be selective but it doesn’t mean i’m ignoring our threads I just write what I have the most muse for

[chibikanilia]

I posted 16,609 times in 2022

That's 6,819 more posts than 2021!

12 posts created (0%)

16,597 posts reblogged (100%)

Blogs I reblogged the most:

@trupowieszcz

@space-grass

@dingdongyouarewrong

@mcrbois

@neveragainfools

I tagged 534 of my posts in 2022

#kanilia rambles - 11 posts

#flashing / - 10 posts

#oh no - 7 posts

#yes - 7 posts

#fucking hell - 6 posts

#sure - 5 posts

#no. - 5 posts

#:( - 5 posts

#good lord - 4 posts

#fuck - 4 posts

Longest Tag: 116 characters

#nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo

My Top Posts in 2022:

#5

Guess who cleaned their whole apartment and is kicking depression's ass?

Me. And I feel good enough about it to post this.

0 notes - Posted January 28, 2022

#4

Today I discovered that the only way I will get out of bed in a timely manner is if MCR releases a new single out of nowhere. Soo... Get on it?

4 notes - Posted May 13, 2022

#3

First things first: these photos will be the death of me. Second:

Who is the fuck Mikey Shore and when did Frank and Ray switch names? It's so funny that they get Mikey's name wrong when his sibling is in the same band and his whole thing is wearing a shirt that says his name. It couldn't be easier but alas, bassists don't get rights.

18 notes - Posted September 14, 2022

#2

Thanks to the person at MCRSTOCKHOLM who got the setlist and let me take a pic! The show was fucking awesome and I'm soooo happy I got to see MCR live!

And special thanks to Jo who went to the show with me, you da best

60 notes - Posted June 15, 2022

My #1 post of 2022

I just can't get over the fact absolutely no one got all the lyrics to foundations of decay correct. The jersey accent got us all. Annnd the fact that we got the correct lyrics from fucking rockband dlc. Truly the band of all time.

148 notes - Posted August 26, 2022

Get your Tumblr 2022 Year in Review →

[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)

[the1918]

2020 for the1918

Am I the last person to make this list? Maybe. Do I regret that? Yes. Am I making it anyways because my cognitive behavioral therapy is teaching me fix my avoidance issues? Also Yes.

Let’s do this: @The Trees In Front of Cevans’s House and @Bucky’s Arm... you da real MVPs.

But other than them...

Thank You to Everyone that Truly Made My 2020:

@cantabile-l  Jo (Daddy Dumpster™ Co-Founder) — I have to list you first. How could I not? Every friendship I’ve made in this fandom comes back to you. We literally bonded over porn lookalikes and started this craziness called the Stucky Porn Lookalikes Archive ( @stucky-lookalikes-archive ) to preserve the porn, and it now has now has 85k hits and 500 bookmarks (!!!?!!). But it’s more than that, even more than starting the Daddy Dumpster™ and bonding over culihos. Bespoke got finished because you got me excited enough to want it, just like half a dozen other fics. You were also the basis for many, many other friendships that I list below. Your nesting head canons were the inspiration for so, so many A/B/O moments in my fics. We’re so on the same length on an intellectual and spiritual level (I feel like you and me and @ixalit are three parts of one whole ❤) and I am in love with you for it. Culihos forever.

@hanitrash​ Hani (O.G. Dumpster™ Citizen) —I’m so, so damn glad you’re in my life. We share that sick sense of humor and refusal to adopt a filter. You add flavor to our Dumpster™ with your wit, and I feel so warm when you share pics and updates about the family with us. You were the first person I ran to when I “discovered” HTP and you held my hand 😂 And Jesus—your talent. I could go on and on and on about Through The Darkness I Heard Your Voice and Private Showing, but also one of my New Year’s resolutions is to start reading your work as Loralynne Summers. Thank you for making me smile every day of last year since April.

@trekchik Jini (O.G. Dumpster™ Citizen) — I can’t speak to the number of laugh-out-loud, belly-grabbing, cackling moments I have had in a year that could easily have been shit otherwise, all because of you. I feel like you’ve truly become a member of my family; like, I see you posting in the Dumpster™ when I wake up in the morning and I think to myself, “Oh, what’s the fam up to today?”. I know I’ve gone on and on about your talent (absolute queen of dialogue and pacing) before, but I don’t thank you enough for keeping the Porn Archive alive when the rest of us are slacking. Your Stucky Tumblr Drabbles (especially the meet cutes) puts a smile on half the fandom’s face regulary, and I’m excited to re-read the wonderful Anagnorsis & Peripeteia soon. Here’s to another year of weird dildo pictures.

@thegodswife Amanda (Dumpster™ Citizen) — I feel like we were literally destined to become friends. The love I feel for you and your little family is real and immense, and I feel like your victories (in life and in writing) are my victories. You have made a slow but steady convert of me to Shrinkyclinks with fics like peaches and because it's christmas, and I am in awe of your talent for writing charged dynamics with jaw-dropping moments. This fandom is lucky to have such a gem as you. 2021 is going to be the Year of Amanda (*clinks Lindeman’s Framboise glasses 🥂*)

@ixalit Max (Dumpster™ Citizen) — My relationship with you has and continues to be lifechanging for more reasons than I can even go into on tumblr. You make me laugh. You make me cry (usually in good ways). You make me horny by supplying the #porn-and-fun as the dutiful resident horny teenage boy of Dumpster™. I remember so clearly when we first messaged talking about your Evanstan thoughts and fics, and I knew your writing was special then (omg, Hiraeth?? How dare). You deserve all the success you earned in 2020 and every bit more success that you will continue to have this year. There is no one else I would rather have with me as we make this ~journey through Song of the Rolling Earth together. 

@becassine Bex (Dumpster™ Citizen) — What can I say about my lucky charm? 🍀 I found our friendship later in the year and I feel it was truly central to the way I finished out my year with a bang (lol). Your encouragement to finish Bespoke supercharged me, and I’m still riding that high in writing SoRE. But for every bit we talk about you being the Queen of Hype (Becassine, First of Her Name), I am also stunned by your own gorgeous writing. The Way I Feel For You is a gift to this fandom and it’s gonna keep rocking our world, along with any other creative endeavor you choose to embark on. Thank you for the treasure of your continued friendship.

@darter-blue​ Bec (Dumpster™ Citizen) — My gorgeous, gorgeous cunt of a friend. What ever am I going to do with you? I feel like you and I have clicked so perfectly and so instantly, and I feel such a strong connection to you. I have been enamored with your skill and your style since I first stumbled across your Sergeant Barnes and Colonel Rogers: A Love Story series and then rapidly gobbled up your other writing. Getting to collab with you on No Vacancies was a dream come true. You make me feel so connected to the outside world and humanity even in this bizarre time and even though you’re on the other side of the world.

@kalee60 Kel (Dumpster™ Citizen) — You flawless sass-master. You brilliant human. You tricky little bastard. What a perfect addition to the Dumpster™ you have been! And your talent, Jesus... just being around you makes me want to write. I have truly never seen someone with as much talent write so prolifically, and I am in very real awe of it. If I had to pick “Fic of the Year” for me, I would not hesitate to pick Push The Button—it turned my world upside down—but for as much as we talk about that epic, your AU Extravaganza is really miracle to behold. And I am so, so pumped for you during this exciting time coming up in your life. Here’s to magnificent year for you in 2021!

@andysmountains​ Andy Gator Lord 🐊 — You’ve changed my life. I’m sitting here and I honestly don’t know how else to put it. You’re hilarious and you’re a ball of sunshine and you have kept this breeder feeling rooted to reality (in a great way) and remembering how to smile during some of the shittiest times I can remember. Newts. You’ve helped me explore my identity, and I’m not sure what greater gift you could have given me. Also, I’ve never heard true love whispered more sincerely than when I see 🔪—and I would give you nine hundred and ninety-seven 🔪 now if not for the fact that you have literally beat me to it.  

@ceratonia-siliqua Cera — We’ve shared so much. I feel so privileged that you’ve picked me to be a person that you want to talk to during hard times because you’re such a special guy, and because you’ve got talent that the world needs to see forever and ever and ever (I continue to blown away by what you did in Sunshine, and none of us are ready for Quilt Fic™) and I hope you never stop writing your whole damn heart out. I truly love you. I do. Thank you for reminding me that there is endless humanity and prose in this world.

@howdoyousleep3​ K — I feel like 2021 couldn’t be starting off better now that you’re in my life again. Last year was largely defined for me by the time I spent with you, and I’ve truly been changed by you and your writing. You are an endless amount of inspiration for me and this whole community; I would bet real money that the number of Daddy Kink converts that owe their new *interest* to finding your Daddy Steve Rogers/Baby Bucky Barnes series numbers in the hundreds (not to mention your other AUs). But fics aside, I had so many smiles and laughter throughout 2020 because of you, and I owe such a big part of my happy heart to you and your presence in my life. You have a huge, caring heart. Cheers to Cevans continuing to be a giant, bro-ish man slut and us never stopping giving him shit for it — and here’s to Trucker Bucky and his bug.

@lullabybeauty Bee — I’m not sure I would still be writing if it weren’t for you. The interest you took in my fics and endless support you’ve provided have turned me into a real-life 🥺🥺🥺 face so many times I can’t count them. But more than the hype you provide, you are an amazing person, and I hope you never stop putting (and ceaselessly keeping) the word out in our community through your blog that Black Lives Matter and black women matter now and forever; it’s far too easy for those of us who are white to let that truth fade from our minds when there’s not something terrible happening in the news, and I’m so thankful for your posts filling up my dash with reminders I need to be a good ally and giving me information to share with others. Thank you for the gift of yourself.

@ywecanthavenicethingsanymore Caroline—You sort of swooped out of nowhere for me and boosted my confidence through the roof. Your comments and your hype and your hilarious tags remind me every day that writers are only half of the fanfiction equation; all we do without supportive friends like you is sit in the corner dreaming of stories we don’t have the confidence or feel-good to put to words. Thank you for your constant support and for being so. damn. cool.

@littlesurfergrl Heather—Oh, Heather. Queen of the A+ tags. Sender of inbox updates about what time you get off of work and why you’re vibrating to read a fic. All-around beautiful person. Your love and support is magic in my veins.

@hoeforthegays Baby J—I am so damn excited for this creative project you’ve taken on; you are so talented. I look forward to our thirst talks all the time. You make me laugh with your screaming and even your advice. Such a source of sunshine in my life.

@capbvckyrogers / @tae-withsuga Cam — You were the first person who ever reblogged a farmer daddy post. You were the first person who ever sent me a prompt. Honestly, you were the first person who ever bonded with me over a character. There zero (0) chance I would have enjoyed fandom (or certainly any kind of creative success) the way that I did in 2020 if not for you. Thank you, endlessly. 

@justice-for-plums​ Kenz — Another “late in the year” friendship find that I am so grateful for. I love our talks! I am so thankful you felt comfortable to reach out and talk about writing. Our workshopping has helped remind me of what works and what doesn’t for me, and I love the creative collaboration on head canons! Excited for more in 2021.

Shrunkyclunks Bitches®, or those not mentioned already above: @dreadlockholiday (co-founder of the Bitches® with @justice-for-plums​ and #1 reason I blushed last year), @oh-i-swear-writes​ @wayward-lives​ @allegedlyann and others I either am missing on tumblr or forgetting (but not because I don’t love you) — Here’s to Cap Steve and modern Bucky and 1,000,000+ words written during our writing sprints in 2021. [Bitches® server membership is open by the way! If you love Shrunkyclunks, contact Dready @dreadlockholiday​].

And to the endless list of others who made me smile, laugh, sometimes cry, feel proud, but always feel that incredible Stucky love — a list that includes but is certainly not limited to @fishcustardandclintbarton,​ @hawkeyeandthewintersoldier, @willbakewithstucky, @hannah-stagram​, @thewaythatwerust​, @bigbraiiin, @musette22, @luninosity​, @fandomfluffandfuck​, @maddiewritesstucky​, @hbalbat, @doctorenterprise​, @epicstuckyficrecs, @k347 and the massive important people I know I am forgetting (...like some BIG ones)

To everyone above and anyone else who has scrolled this far:

Thank you.

Let’s all have a fantastic 2021 🥂

[hotarutranslations]

Homa Pic!

Evening

Its Ishida Ayumi

Today was a recording for Morning Jogakuin!

Everyone's in black, huh... lol

Its been a while since I've been on Mo-Jo but,

talking is fun after all!

During the first week of December, I have that class duty

During the second week of December, Kaga Kaede-chan has class duty

Every Monday,

Its Here

those that missed listening to it live, We're doing a "class meeting" that can only be heard here,

I definitely want you to class meeting

It became like, the 3 of us have, this, in common!!! discovering this by chance here, it was an exciting discussion!

By all means

The airing dates are different depending on the area so, thank you everyone for checking,

Look forward to it airing the first and second week of December

By the way,

What I have in my hands in the photo,

Shining as number 1 in the "DJ I Like" ranking, Sato Masaki was on the cover of the magazine

Amazing, right

a woman who works hard

thats how it feels,

it became like, fufufu ←

We always receive a lot of mail for radio,

but we can only read a limited amount, I also have feelings of being sorry about it,

We take a look through them to check them so,

In particular the mail's theme, "how did you come to like us",

I'm usually happy, when I'm reading a fan letters

Especially if its how you came upon us

Everyone!

From now on I'll be waiting for your mail!

thank you for your cooperation!

mm but, for radio in 2020, its already the last for me perhaps~

It feels lonely as its decreased,

Therefore, when getting to talk I'll do my best to cherish it~

If you have questions

please include them,

when I will be making my next appearance

Homare

Good Idol

(the background is disappointing ←)

see you ayumin <3

https://ameblo.jp/morningmusume-10ki/entry-12640629571.html

[verobatto]

You did something stupid, again

Destiel Meta. Supernatural Meta. 15x13. Spoiler. Visual Narrative Meta

Hello my friends! Did you watch the episode?

Okay, I must say i feel a little disappointed bc AUDean didn't flirt with our Cas and we didn't get a jealous Dean, but ... We will always have fanfictionland, I know many of you will fix it by writing what should happen there... 😏

Okay I want to say thank you to @agusvedder for her wonderful gifs in this meta!

Now, my quarantined friends, let's start this short meta...

Call back to Ruby/Sam, one of the first Destiel mirrors from season 5

It was hilarious when Cas pointed at Ruby as the demon Sam had been sexually intimate.

Why Cas is recalling this? Is important because while Sam was sexually intimating with Ruby, Dean was sexually tensioning with Cas 🤣🤣🤣 omg, is quarantine, sorry...

But it works, right? They were both mirrors, so...

Then we had Castiel talking face to face to Ruby, and Ruby remembered Sam, she said she liked him! Was him one of her regrets?

Just like the Empty scanned Castiel's head when he was there, discovering his feelings, Ruby confessed that to him.

Old Married Couple

And I'm guessing because this was a BL episode, we had a lot of Wincest, but we also had old married couple sit com with Destiel.

The exchange of bad jokes coming from Dean and Castiel being all grumpy, is our jam.

But we also had a recall to doing stupid things, only this time, it wasn't stupid.

Castiel almost dying to get into the Empty, is a parallel to Dean almost dying to get into the veil. And idk why it was so easy... But, could work as a foreshadow too.

Why a foreshadow? Because they showed us how, through Jack, Cas, or anyone else?, Could break into the Empty, and maybe... Because Ruby called Cas, he could represent the connection, the first one in waking up the Empty, and being released from it. So maybe, this could be the way to refill Heaven with angels sleeping in the void.

But is also a clue for my spec of Dean rescuing Cas from the Empty too.

The way Dean nonchalantly asked for Cas' grace under his scolding eyes, is a sign that maybe he was still a little mad at him for doing the almost dead plan. Because they are married. And they're two dummies in love. That's why.

Far to be Happy

We talked extensively about what meant for Castiel to be happy. He always will put the excuse AUMICHAEL IS STILL OUT THERE, or now, CHUCK IS STILL OUT THERE. But... What is the show telling us about his truly happiness?

In this episode we had people dressed in colors that can give us clues about that.

I told you that everytime we see pink colors means happiness. Now... Look at Jack T-shirt...

Is white (light blue and white means purity and divinity) so divinity with pink and blue. He was wearing Castiel's happiness. Jack is pivotal for Castiel to reach happiness. And the white color representing divinity, is maybe talking about his destiny, to become the new God, as I pointed so many times in my meta specs.

Now, let's jump to Jo.

Jo was wearing a pink coat with a red bluse and black T-shirt with lines in blue and red.

Okay... Pink is happiness... So... Red is our toxic, and angry Dean, black is the Empty and lines in blue and red are Cas and Dean again. This has so much sense, because Dean is Castiel's happiness too, but the Empty is there separating them. And I suppose Dean is in angry when he discovers the deal with the Empty, or when he will see is really too late.

Now, let's come back to Jack's wardrobe at the end... Light brown coat (so Cas, isn't?) And orange t-shirt. Orange is the mix of Red (Dean) and Yellow (Sam) so each time I see orange I recall the brothers... And is so cute he is wearing this colors, because is his family. They are his three dads.

Miscellaneous:

There were a lot of point that caught my attention, but because this is the Destiel Meta, I will put just two here. And a third we were discussing bwith my friend @weirddorkylittlediana

Dadstiel talking with Jack about the way Dean manage anger, and mourning, because he knows. He knows Dean very well. So he can talk about that with his son. And we, Destiel shippers, can scream like the fangirls we are.

Why no one were helping Sam to block that door?? And Dean and Castiel spotted side by side? Okay, I could scream again my spec here about Dean and Castiel in the Empty, and Sam helping them to open the rift and keep it open through a spell and Jack, but... It is also a clue to think about Destiel endgame as vessel sharing. Just saying.

Diana told me: look the church scene looks like a wedding, I noticed the colors (bisexual flag) but I didn't noticed they were spotted as if they were getting married, I will use her pics to show her idea...

Okay... Hilarious, thank you Diana!

To Conclude

I didn't like the Wincest subtext in this episode, but we'll, I think you can't give to all the sections of this fandom happiness at the same time, right?

There was a lot of old married couple but like sit com.

The reference to the Empty and how Cas can get in and get out and maybe, bring some dead demons and angels, it could be a foreshadow to what the Heaven Restoration will be.

I hope you like this meta, see you in the next one!

Tagging @metafest @gneisscastiel @emblue-sparks @magnificent-winged-beast @agusvedder @weirddorkylittlediana @michyribeiro @whyjm @legendary-destiel @a-bit-of-influence @thatwitchydestielfan @misha-moose-dean-burger-lover @lykanyouko @evvvissticante @savannadarkbaby @dea-stiel @mybonsai1976 @anarchiana @angelwithashotgunandtrenchcoat @trashblackrainbow @destielshipper221b @mishtho @dancingtuesdaymorning @feathered-castiel @bre95611 @zoerayne2426 @justmeand-myinsight @that-one-fandom-chick @proccastinate @studio-hatter @pepevons @liwos-rabithole @poorreputation @mrsaquaman187 @dizzypinwheel @jawnlockwinchester @breathing-oxymoron @a-bit-of-influence @dwstiel @thislunarkiss @ladygon @shippsblog @la-random-fangirl @lets-try-this-again-please @mychemicalobsession514 @destiel-shipper-11

If you want to added or removed from this list just let me know.

Buenos Aires March 23th 2020 5:58 PM

[tellywoodtrash]

immj2 11.10.20 lb

riddhima still listening to her wash basin. y'know, like normal ppl tend to do.

also @jalebi-weds-bluetooth astutely pointed out in the replies to yest's lb, ki pipe ke theek neeche sejal hai, toh where does that water go????? SO LIKE, IF RIDDHIMA WASHED HER HANDS RN (remember to keep scrubbing while you sing the theme song of this show two times over!!!!!!!) all that ganda pani would just fall on sejal's head?!?!?!?!?!?! i know mumbai's plumbing system is kinda suspect, but itnaaaaaaaa maine expect nahi kiya tha, ki pipes just randomly flow into some sub-basement space.

mosquitoes. this is how you get an infestation of dengue and malaria spreading mosquitoes (which i discovered is something the BMC slaps cases on ppl for!)

siya is resident plumbing expert. unfortunately, she hasn’t informed anyone ki pipes shouldn’t just open into a random room under the house. maybe she charges extra for that. i know i would.

yehhhhhhh do paplu-taplu. honestly, you do realise the whole point of chunwaofying someone in a wall is to deprive them of oxygen????? what exactly is the outcome you’re hoping for with this exercise?????

“jhoot bol rahi hai yeh!” jhoot ho ya sach, tuney bolne kahaan diya hai? aadha time toh tu khud bolta raha, uske baad se iske mooh mein rumaal thoos rakha hai.

ofc this house of horrors has one of these bookshelves.

saade ek second mein pooore waal pe choona bhi laga diya aryan aur chachi ne. bhai waaaaaaaaah, khud ki construction company khol le naa? kyun vansh ka jo bhi shady business hai, usko hadappne mein lage ho tum log?

INN MUMMY KO SACHMEIN KOIIIIIIIIIIII AUR KAAM NAHI HAI. KAASH MAIN LIFE MEIN ITNI LUKHI HOTI.

SEJAL IS DUMB AF FOR MULTIPLE REASONS. she can just spit the gag out. she can just undo this loose af knot. she can just kick the wet wall down. but no, she's still just lolling about there like a fucking idiot. but i guess it’s to be expected, hai toh riddhima ki hi best friend. sangat ka asar hoga.

at this point i’m bored with this dumbassery and admiring this outfit of riddhima's. quite nice. bringing out her curves veryyyy nicely. 

kabir gonna be hella mad when he discovers mom didn't cover riddhima well enough YET AGAIN.

finally smarty-salwar (desi version of smartypants, you see) has discovered ki deewaar geeli hai.

abbbbbbbbbbe yaaaaaaaar, yeh toh priyadarshan ki pictureon ke climax se bhi zyaada convoluted hota jaa raha hai.

shukar, dadi ne riddhima ko bulaakar sabki jaan bacha li.

ofc, mandatory havan pooja blah blah of the week. also, vansh is returning tomorrow it seems.

sis already smiley wiley over it like a goddamn fool.

which siya clicked and sent to bhai. my god, you alllllllll really need to get a goddamn life, than just sitting around constantly obsessing over these two's relationship. seriously, itne bade ghar mein rehte ho. thoda aur paisa kharch karo, cable lagwaalo, ipl dekho, kuch toh aur entertainment ho tum logon ki life mein.

pfffffffffffffffffffffffffft. yeh insaan kitni baar kitne disguises mein iss ek hi ghar mein ghusega???? in the first few eps i watched, they were like THIS WHOLE AREA HAS CELL PHONE JAMMERS AND BLAH BLAH ITNI SECURITY, AND YEH DEKHO, KOI BHI MULTIPLE TIMES AA JAA RAHA HAI. this mansion is never destined to have a competent security staff, no matter which show.

OH BHAIII, HAR BAAR DRAMATICALLY MASK NIKAALNE KI ZAROORAT NAHI HAI. SAMAJH GAYE KI TUM HI HO. LITERALLY NO ONE ELSE WANTS TO ENTER THIS DAMN HOUSE THIS MUCH.

also wow, he just casually murdered the real badri. #RIPBadri

riddhima has the memory of a goldfish. baar baar bhool jaati hai ki sejal is somewhere in captivity in this house and just goes back to doing whatever rando ghar ke kaam.

i don't recall this place looking so damn fugly in ib. inn serial waalo ka set decoration ka kamaal hoga.

kabir ko bhi riddhima waala syndrome hai kya? instead of looking for sejal, sach mein pooja waale kaamon mein jutt gaya.

iss se zyaada kya ready hona hai siya ko???? anyway, whatever.

real subtle.

yeh lo. inka abhi tk khatam nahi hua.

also lmao did they break down the wall they built so painstakingly to get her out? sach mein what fucking duffersssssssssss these two are.

arre waah, such khaatirdaari.

“itne bhi bure nahi hain hum ke kisi ki jaan le lein.” huh, sure coulda fooled me.

itniiiiiiiiiii concentration lagti hai isko paani glaas mein daalne ke liye ki he didn't notice sejal hid her wholeass watch inside the plate of food. literally a single brain cell waala organism.

i hate him and i need to see either vansh or kabir fucking beat the shit outta this fool. bohutttttttt hi irritating hai.

lol give us more of vishal yaar, he's the most entertaining actor here, with the accents and disguises and all.

worst kidnapper of the year award goes to this chachi, who is absolutely fucking useless. auntyji, you've been yelling the same thing at sejal since yesterday, ek bhi baar khayaal nahi aaya, ki chalo koi aur tactic use karein???

SHE JUST LITERALLY LEFT A WHOLE SHATTERED PLATE OF FOOD IN THE MIDDLE OF THE HALL AND WALKED AWAY. WTF IS WRONGGGGGGGGGGGGGGG WITH THIS WHOLE FAMILY? THEY ALLLLLLLL ACT LIKE ALIENS WHO ARE PRETENDING TO BE HUMAN. EK BHI HARKAT NORMAL NAHI HAI INKI.

hein?????????? bhaag gayi sejal??

oh nope. aryan shifted to chachi's room. kudos to his upper body strength ki he picked up a whole semi-conscious woman INSIDE a bulkyasssss cardboard box and brought her up here from the basement without even breaking a sweat!

LMAOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO VANSH RAISINGHANIA - GRUFFFFFF GANGSTA MAN - FORWARDS PICS TO WIFEY AND CALLS THEM “CUTE” WITH EMOJIIIIIIIIIS. bhai kuch toh rep maintain kar le.

aaye haaaye, red velvet cake lag raha hai. (lmaooooo i think uss anon ki nazar lag gayi, who said ki thank god they style vansh only in neutrals and navys.)

ALSO MY GOD I HATE THIS FUCKING SCARF IN HIS LAPEL THING HE HAS GOING IT LOOKS REALLY BAD. PLS STOP WITH IT.

husband man is getting very flirrrrrrrrrty.

wife bhi koi kam nahi. good jobbbbbbb. now fuck.

(omg how fucking long will i have to wait for that????????/ will this show even let them fuck, or will they just keep playing murder and revenge games endlessly without anyyyyyyyyy payoff for me??!?!!?)

watch maarofying lashkaaras like anything.

“yeh sejal ki ghadi hai!!!!!!!!!! matlab yeh mera brahm nahi tha!”

yeah sis, this is exaaactly what you said yesterday also, when you heard her voice. when the fuck you ever gonna remember to FOLLOW UP on this brand new discovery you keep making every 12 hours??????????

[anotherhystericalqueen]

As Easy As Breathing

Modern AU!Brian May x OC

Word Count: 3.7k

Warnings: None

Moodboard and Summary

A/N: Hey guys! I have been working on starting this new story for a while and I am so excited to finally be posting it. Please let me know what you guys think and I hope you all like it!

What do you think of this one Darlings?” Freddie spun in the store mirror, admiring his reflection as he modeled an old off-white leather jacket. 

“Fred, it’s falling apart at the seams,” Roger stared at his roommate in disbelief. “There’s no way we can sell that as it is and there’s no way you can wear that onstage without it literally falling off. Where did you even find that thing?” 

Freddie Bulsara huffed and turned around to face the two other owners of the Rag Trade, Roger Taylor and Josie Crowley, still modeling the falling apart jacket that he dubbed as ‘vintage’. “I have my ways Rog.” 

Josie perched herself up on the counter, letting her legs hang over the side. ‘Let me guess, Kash?”

Freddie shrugged off the jacket and handed it to the redhead. “It doesn’t matter how it was discovered, it just needs a little bit of Josie Crowley magic. I’ve seen you bring garments in worse shape than this one back to life, maybe we have another miracle on our hands.” 

Josie sighed and took a closer look at the jacket, running her fingers over the cream colored fake leather to assess the damage. There were some holes on the front and the arms and the zipper was falling off at the bottom, but those could be taken care of with some patchwork and embroidery. The seams were also close to falling apart in some places, but there wasn’t anything that could deem the jacket completely unsalvageable. In fact, it was the right amount of beat up that she could use it for another design she had already been planning out for Freddie.

“I don’t think we need a miracle here,” She shrugged, hopping off the counter and digging out her sketchbook from her bag. “Gimme a few days and I can give you a brand new jacket. I already have some ideas in mind.” 

Before Freddie or Roger could give either of their input on the jacket, Roger’s phone went off over the stall’s speaker and cut off the music that was playing from Roger’s YouTube app. The blonde leapt up from his place on the couch and disappeared into Josie’s workshop in the back of the stall. The other two shop owners shrugged it off and went back to comparing the design Josie had been sketching, to the jacket’s current worn out state. They started going over details that Freddie wanted when Roger popped out from the back. 

“Fred, can you come back here? It’s about the band.” He called back. Freddie got up from his place on the couch next to Josie and disappeared into the tiny backroom where Roger was. 

Josie manned the register while her roommates hid in the back to take what she guessed to be a very important phone call. It was a slow day all around in Kensington Market, so the Rag Trade didn’t get as much foot traffic as it usually did.  Josie managed to keep herself busy by getting to work with when she heard a wooden clacking noise coming from the stall’s entrance. She pulled her attention away from her work to find that she had a new customer, but instead of browsing around the racks of new and old clothes he looked like he was looking for something specific.

Josie Crowley wasn’t a girl to get easily flustered by a boy, but this guy was about to make an exception. He was tall, really tall for starters. His bright blue NASA jacket was too short for his arms, leaving his wrists exposed to the cold. Loose deep brown framed his long face and brought out the different shades of hazel in his eyes. She studied the details of his face, from how his lips were slightly parted to how the tip of his nose was a rush of pink from the cool fall air, to how his hair fell in front of his eyes. 

“Hey,” She regained her composure to greet her potential client. “How can I help you?” 

“Yea.” The stranger pulled out a light denim jacket, running his thumb on the worn out seams. “I think you may be just the girl I’m looking for.” 

Josie studied the jacket in his hands. It wasn’t in as bad shape as Freddie’s but it looked like it could use some love and care. “Ye-yeah sure, I think?” She reached out for the jacket, which the stranger handed to her. She analyzed the denim and found that it was in better condition than she first thought. “Nice jacket, a little worn but overall in good condition. What do you need done with it?” 

“Well I found it in my parent’s attic and my dad said I could take it.” As he explained how he found the jacket, Josie noticed that his cheeks were turning from a light pink to a flushed red. “It fits for the most part but the sleeves are too short. One of my friends suggested that I come to you to get them lengthened.”

Josie examined the sleeves, “Yea I can totally do that. I would have to get some measurements really quick to make sure they don’t end up too long or too short. Do you mind?” Josie gestured towards the stranger before fishing around in her bag to find her measuring tape. 

The stranger nodded and put down his bag. Josie placed the measuring tape at the top of his shoulders and took his measurements for both arms, making notes on a blank sheet in her notebook for later. 

They tried to make some small talk as she finished up the measurements. “So is there anything else you want done to the jacket besides getting the sleeves lengthened? Maybe even put some of your own customization into it instead of just being a repair?”

“Yea that would be nice.” He laughed. “What do you do for that?” 

“Mostly embroidery and patches for denim jackets, but I can do whatever you would like.” She replied, her mind already spinning with ideas. 

“Embroidery and patches sound really interesting.” The stranger smiled at her. 

“Yea! I can put on anything you want on it.” She continued making notes. 

“If you’d like, I can give you my number so if there’s anything else you want done you can just let me know?” She suggested before quickly backtracking. “Unless you think that’s too forward.”

Space boy laughed and pulled his phone out of his pocket. “No of course we should swap numbers. I’d love to stay in touch.” He handed his phone over for her to add her number to his contacts. 

“I’ll text you later when I get home.” He offered. “It was really nice to meet you today….”

“Josie.” She reached out her hand. “Josie Crowley.” 

The stranger reached out and took her hand. “Brian May. It was very nice to meet you Josie.” 

“It was nice to meet you too, Brian” Josie felt heat was over her face as she watched Brian walk out of the stall, She kept running her thumbs up and down the worn seams of Brian’s 

Unknown Number: Hey, thanks for your help today! I hope this will be an easier way to keep in touch. -Bri

Josie grinned at her screen but was suddenly interrupted by both Roger and Freddie bursting out of the back room, their faces lit up with excitement. 

“Jo! You’ll never guess what just happened!” Roger called out, making the redhead jolt up and juggle her phone in her hands.

“Fucking hell Roger,” She gasped, clutching her phone to her chest. “What? You scared the daylights out of me.” 

“Oh don’t be so dramatic darling.” Freddie rolled his eyes. “We have incredible news.” 

Josie put her phone down on the counter, “What’s up?”

“We got a gig!” Roger exclaimed before Freddie could even open his mouth. 

There was a long pause between the three of them. Freddie and Roger’s band, Queen, had been doing gigs around the London pub scene for the past couple months so it wasn’t huge news anymore whenever they got a gig somewhere. So Josie stood staring at her roommates with a confused look on her face. 

“What kind of gig?” She broke the silence. “You usually don’t get this excited over one Rog.”

Freddie laughed. “Jo this isn’t any old pub show. This is a legitimate performance! We just heard that we are going to be part of a rising musicians showcase at Royal Albert Hall next month. I sent them our demo last week and they want us to perform!” Josie could tell that Freddie was really excited about this, so she had no choice but to join in on the excitement. 

“That’s awesome!” She knew how hard they have been working to take their band to a more serious level, even if she hadn’t been able to make it to one of their shows yet or have even met the other members of the band. “Have you told the other’s yet? Or did they get a call too?” 

Roger shook his head. “Not yet, we want to ask you something before we tell them.”

Josie cocked her head to the side out of confusion, she wasn’t part of the band so what would they have to ask her before talking to their bandmates? 

“We want you as our band stylist.” Freddie asked. Josie felt her eyes widen and her heart started to pound. She knew that they wouldn’t be able to pay her much or at all since they were barely making it by at Rag Trade as it is, but she knew this would be a huge next step for both them and herself if the band took off. 

“I know you hang out with us enough so if you don’t want to we get it.” Roger chirped in, pulling Josie out of her thought process, “But you’re really talented with clothes and we need to look our best for this show so-”

“I’ll do it.” Josie cut him off. “I’m in. I don’t care about money or anything like that. If you want me and the others are cool with it, I’m in.”

Both Freddie and Roger immediately lit up in excitement.

“But I do have one question though,” She added on. “How do you guys exactly expect me to style two guys I haven’t met yet? I can’t style someone that I don’t know, let alone have ever even seen.”

Freddie waived her off. “Don’t worry about that darling. I already alerted them of you joining our team as it was a given that you would say yes. They’ll be meeting with you in a few days since both of them have such busy lives.”

“You can use clothes from Rag Trade!” Roger piped up. “We got some clothes in the back we haven’t put out on the floor yet. We can set aside whatever you pick out to keep for the band.”

Josie blushed from Roger’s offer. “That is very thoughtful of you Rog. I swear that you guys get total input into whatever you wear. The last thing I want is for you to go onstage in something you aren’t comfortable wearing.” 

“You don’t have to worry about that Jo,” Roger reassured her. “We know whatever you do is going to be amazing.” 

Josie smiled at Roger’s comment. “Thanks guys, I promise I won’t let you down.” 

~~~~~~~~~~~~

After the Rag Trade closed down for the night, Josie and the guys made their way back to the small flat the three of them shared a few blocks over. They were immediately greeted by Freddie’s two cats, Miko and Delilah and Josie’s cat, Chip. Freddie and Roger hung out in the flat’s common area while Josie retreated to her room for the night. She changed out of her street clothes into a comfortable oversized t-shirt and shorts before scrubbing off her makeup for the day and climbing into her bed. 

Josie pulled out her laptop and started scrolling through Pinterest for ideas not only for Freddie and Brian’s tasks for her, but to also get some tips and inspiration for Queen’s new stagewear, primarily focusing on what she would pick for Freddie and Roger. She was meeting the other members of the band tomorrow to get their measurements and start planning their stagewear for some upcoming shows.

 She was soon distracted by Freddie’s newest kitten, Miko, jumping on top of her sketch and demanding attention. He paced around her legs and meowing insistently at the designer until she gave in and replaced the jacket in her lap with the tortoise-shell colored kitten, scratching right behind his ears. 

“You’re just like your Daddy, aren’t you?” She laughed. “You know just how to get my attention.” 

The kitten purred in content, kneading on her blanket covered legs. Watching Miko knead her lap, Josie reached for her phone and sent a photo to her roommates in the next room. 

TO: Oh My God They Were Roommates👀👀

Josie: I have been graced with Miko’s presence, If you need me I will be in my room the rest of the night with him 

Freddie: Give back my son

Josie: Never. He’s mine now

Freddie: Traitors, both of you. If you’re taking Miko then I’m taking Chip in return

Josie: Leave Chip out of this, he’s innocent!

Roggie: You two are weird

Freddie: Says the one who’s obsessed with his car

Before Josie could respond to her roommates, she saw a notification from her newest client- Brian. 

“Hey it’s Brian. Thank you so much for helping me out today on such a short notice!”

She grinned and immediately switched over to his messages, ignoring the budding argument between her roommates that was going on over text. 

Josie: Hey! You’re totally welcome. I should have your jacket all fixed up in the next week or so, feel free to swing by next week and it should be done!

Brian: Thanks! Please let me know whenever you finish it, but there’s no rush! My band just got called about a huge gig so I’ve been a bit preoccupied. 

Josie: Oooooooh you’re in a band? What do you play?

Brian: Yea, I play guitar. What about you, do you play any instruments?

Josie: That’s so cool! Unfortunately my talents are more in the design world than the musical world. I do want to learn how to play the guitar someday though

Brian: Well maybe I can teach you sometime

Josie: I would like that. Are you busy this week?

Brian: Not too busy, my band does have a gig next week so I have been held up with rehearsals whenever I’m not busy with my work. It’s nothing big, just a pub by Imperial College. What about you?

Josie: I just got a new long term project to work on so I’m still in the early stages of working on that. And I’m looking at your jacket too for what to do for embroidery or customization besides lengthening the sleeves. Do you have any interests or hobbies that could help?

Brian: Well outside of playing the guitar, I’ve actually been interested in space and astrophysics. I have been actually working part time on getting my PhD in Astrophysics. 

Josie mentally exited out of the conversation for a moment and turned back to her . She immediately went to her profile and made a new board that she named “Ideas for Brian”, noting that he really likes space and to look for space themed embroidery prints. She had a few ideas in mind now that she knew for sure that he had a strong interest in space. Josie also made a mental note to see if there was any way that she could combine both space and music into one design to make it special just for him. 

“Note: see if Bri has photos of guitar he would like used.” She muttered under her breath as she typed out the note before jumping back into the conversation with Brian. 

Josie: Oh wow that’s so cool! I had a feeling that you were into space from your jacket you wore today. And that has to be rough working and finishing a PhD AND being in a band

Brian: Yea I guess it was kinda obvious. Luckily we are on a short holiday right now so I can catch my breath and focus on my music. 

Josie: I know how that feels, my last year at uni I thought I was going to break down from burnout by the end. 

Brian: What did you study?

Josie: I double majored in apparel design and finance. 

Brian: That’s cool, how did you get into two completely different subjects like that?

Josie: It’s a long story, remind me and I’ll tell you about it sometime. I have an early shift at Rag Trade tomorrow and need to get to bed soon. 

Brian: Yea, I’m about to head to bed too. Goodnight Josie

Josie: Goodnight Brian, talk tomorrow?

Brian: I look forward to it :)

Josie shifted on her bed in a way that disturbed Miko from his nap in her lap. The kitten meowed at Josie before leaping off her bed and made his way out of her room. She noticed that the light in the common room was now out, so she guessed that Freddie and Roger were both asleep, or at least in their own rooms. She placed her phone on the nightstand right next and plugged it in to charge for the night. As she drifted off to sleep, her mind kept drifting towards the curly haired guitarist she had only met a few hours before. 

~~~~~~~~~

Josie spent the next couple days working on Brian’s jacket and focusing on what she was going to do with Freddie and Roger’s band as their new stylist. Unfortunately, she had been so busy with her roommates and her own work that she hadn’t been able to meet the rest of the band. Today, she was finally able to meet the remaining members of Queen. 

John, their bassist, was the first of the two to arrive. They were holed up in Josie’s back corner of the store that she used as her spot to meet up with clients. In the first few minutes of their meeting, Josie dubbed John as her favorite member. He was a lot more calm and subdued than Freddie and Roger, which was a relieving change. She learned he was still a student, which is why they haven’t met yet since John was busy with his classes whenever he wasn’t rehearsing or performing with Queen. Josie could barely juggle working here with being in school before she graduated, so she gave him props for going after both the band and an honors electrical engineering degree. 

She had her tape measure slung over her shoulder as she leafed through a rack of clothes she picked out for the bassist.  “What do you think of this?” She asked, holding up a black silky button down shirt. The chest was covered in small white pearl-like stars to add detail. “Freddie picked this one out, though it would look good for one of your upcoming shows.” 

John shrugged, holding the material in his hands. “I don’t know. Are you sure it isn’t too flashy for the band?”

The designer laughed. “You’re in a band with Freddie. He would go onstage in red and white booty shorts and suspenders and nothing else if he could so I wouldn’t worry about you looking too flashy.”

Her comment warranted a small laugh from John. “Yea, I don’t really put that past him. But I really do like that shirt.”

Josie smiled and put it on the rack closest to her that she had labeled “Queen Wardrobe.” She was happy that John was warming up to her and her abilities as a stylist. She had heard from Freddie that the kid would go up on stage in plain jeans and a t-shirt if the frontman would let him. Unfortunately a band that had both Freddie Bulsara and Roger Taylor would never allow such a thing so they always had the bassist borrow clothes from one of the two.  She made it her goal to find anything that would help John come out of his shell and stop having to borrow appropriate stagewear from his bandmates, but she still wanted him to be comfortable and have a say in what he wore. 

Josie and John ended up deciding on three shirts, a pair of black flare jeans, and a pair of white skinny jeans that were also suggested by Freddie. Josie’s favorite thing that they found was a pair of tan platform boots that John was immediately drawn towards when she first pulled them out. She wrapped the clothes hangers together with a rubber band and tagged them “Deaky” to keep with the nickname Freddie had given him and so she would know they were picked for John. She already did the same for Freddie and Roger and was planning to do the same for their guitarist. 

As Josie was setting up for her next client, she heard a familiar clacking enter the shop. She turned to see who it was as Freddie greeted them and she immediately froze in place. 

It was Brian.

“Brian! I am so glad you were able to make it darling.” The singer exclaimed, abandoning his post at the counter. Brian still hadn’t noticed Josie yet, even though the Rag Trade wasn’t that big of a shop she was still in the back semi-hidden behind the varying racks of clothes. 

“You told me to meet you here for the band.” He answered. “Something about us bri new stage clothes?” 

Josie watched as Freddie led him back to her station, she saw the gears turning in Brian’s head as they made their way to the back of the shop. When Brian’s eyes finally laid eyes on the new stylist, he froze in place and his eyes went wide in surprise. 

“Brian, I would like to introduce you to Queen’s official stylist, the one and only Josephine Crowley.” 

[ghostcat3000]

fanfic end of the year asks: 12, 15, 24 and 27

from this meme

12. favorite character to write about this year

I very much enjoyed writing from Oliver’s POV this year for both Andante and the latest chapter of Finale. As developed in this fic series, the character was probably more romantic than I’d initially planned him to be. Definitely as thoughtful but perhaps more deliberately blind as well. I enjoyed imagining how he saw Elio, how beautiful he thinks he is without actually saying those words.

His long, aristocratic nose. Lips, full at the bottom and curling with expressiveness on top; two stories happening at once. Eyes, mostly-green (this was something you used to say to him: other colors, yes—but mostly green) with a slim ring of brown flaring around the pupil, bits of gray on the edges. How they always look a little sad no matter how hard you make him laugh. Jaw, sharp. Freckles. Everywhere. Scars. Birthmarks. Long fingers. Long toes. Long legs. Long torso. Slim, hairless thighs. The skin there cool and smooth. The way his mouth always hung open a little, and you had to stop yourself from putting yourself in there, in every possible way.

15. something you learned this year

That I am very lucky to have so many wonderful writer friends who have provided an incredible amount of support. It was a difficult year from, had some medical stuff go down that threw me for a loop and people were so kind to me while I wrote my way through it, if that makes any sense.

Huge shout-out to @cheshirecatstrut who had to read so much garbage not in her fandom and helped me more than words can say.

24. favorite fic you read this year

I read so many great fics this year, I could never have just one. @bartbarthelme recommended a Teen Wolf fic called No Homo that made me laugh for an entire day. Definitely a fave now.

He just about closes the browser window, but ends up clicking on the personals section for shits and gigs.

It’s something he does occasionally. Usually, it’s thirsty gay dudes looking for a dick to hop on, and sometimes he gets a laugh from the wording, and sometimes it’s weird fetishy shit, and a lot of dick pics. It’s entertainment enough when he’s gotten bored of trawling through reddit.

Tonight is the usual, someone looking for a blowie, someone looking for a “spicy latina to macarena”, whatever that means, he’s no expert but that sounds a little racist. But he’s sitting there and he gets a really fucking weird idea that might be the most brilliant thing he’s ever thought of.

What if he put up an ad for a friend? A test friend. And he’s pretty sure he knows the ultimate friendship test.

He does it before he can worry about it, puts it up and sits back to admire his genius.

str8 dude - m4m - strictly platonic

str8 dude looking for another str8 dude to JO with. i can host. no pics. i don’t give a fuck what u look like and u shouldn’t care what i look like either. STR8 PLS. do not want gay hookup. no weird touching. just 2 dudes jerking it. thx

It’s brilliant, is what it is.

The author orphaned the work rather than deleting and for that, we owe them an enormous thank you. Thank you, anon writer, for not deleting your work unlike some monsters I won’t mention. :cough: bart :cough:

27. favorite fanfic author of the year

I have way more than one. Because I just finished shaming her for breaking my heart into a thousand pieces by deleting her work over and over again, I’ll say it was a pleasure discovering the work of @bartbarthelme. Economical, funny, sexy--Bartie packs a lot of feeling into short blasts of writing, particularly when it settles into her sweet spot: the unusual, near-exotic joys of day-to-day domesticity.

thank you for the asks, @robazizo!

[shonbellenoire]

Online Dating - Quarantine Edition 2020

Not a fan of online dating,  People are always way more interesting and bold online rather in person.  Online makes it too easy.  I prefer the boldness of the approach.  Even still, I found myself 3 years ago falling in love with a man I met online.  I’m not against it but I am saying I prefer the old fashion way.

People always portray themselves differently online.  Using pictures from 10 years ago, not much thought in what is written in the bio and most just want you to follow them on other social media accounts.  Needless to say.....during quarantine I was poppin online. My profile was 3 sentences but it was witty and highlighted my personality.  The niggas ate it the fuck up!! In box on triple full.  Though not optpmistic about the process and not even expecting to do it for a long time, I put up only 2 pics.  One with minimal makeup, the other full on glam.

The Trucker bka Bubba

The first guy to inbox me that I matched with. A northerner, 29 new to the area looking for a thrill.  So damn cute with a full time job.  Ambitious rapper in the making with a lil dental dysfunction but he cute.  We met at a restaurant practicing social distancing,went to the airport and watched plans take off while smoking blunts and listening to his mixtape. Lets just say we met and he friend zoned me. lol 

The 29 yr old too old to know better to young to still be a dumb nigga.

Flashy ass navy vet...well he was a cook on a submarine.  It was all good when we met until he got upset when we talked music. He started playing music from a British rapper whose lyrics were worst than a mumble rapper on a mediocre beat.  I wasn’t impressed and honestly when exposed to dummy shit for too long my head hurts and I get the urge to want to pick up a book.  I was like “Enough is enough please change to an artist who reads books.”, that set him off.  We went from falling in love to instant hate in the matter of minutes.  He screamed and yelled and got into a verbal shouting match about rappers.  I exited immediately.  “I’m out! I’m gonna go read, I’ll leave you with the writer who raps about seasoning a girl like shes chicken.”  The nigga must of thought that line was so cold cuz he said it twice.

The Porn Star

An army vet and personal trainer at the local L.A Fitness.  Recently divorced with 2 daughters old enough to jump me and film it and edit it to upload on Instagram.  I remained on my best behavior to keep from becoming the next Katt Williams even though I was ready to devour him like the chocolate drop he is. 

This barbie plays with G.I Joe

We sent pictures back and forth via text.  He cute and could dress.  Then pictures morphed to videos and to my surprise...they were explicit....or was I surprised.  Snippets of him half naked morphed to butt ass naked. Well ok than fat dick daddy, show me all the goods!  So i asked questions and got a link to a few videos and really got to see what Fat Dick G.I Joe was working with.  Thank you.  So he asked me out but when we met I noticed his body was better in person.  Total body babe.  But....he looked better from a distance or with a hat on.  We went to the drive in, it was his first time.  We attempted to make out, which lead to attempting to ride his face but the damn console was in the damn way of his BMW coupe.  

The Help Desk Customer Service Rep...who thinks hes the smartest in the room and loves to play devils advocate.

My issue is how every conversation got sexual, but he never sent no dick pic or print. Don’t talk about it be about it.  On our first date we went to the park. We discovered a park neither of us have been too.  New to the city from Miami, the chocolate dread head with a rapper name was comfortable around me. Not afraid to reach for my hand nor place his hand around my waist.  However, the good comes with the bad and at times he got too comfortable.  Standing behind me with his dick pressed up on my ass like we posing for a mall photo graph with matching air brush tees.  We don’t go together, fuck is you doin?  Back the fuck up.  Talking to him at times would be just too much.  Asking him about his job got so technical. He gave me the run around but using my context clues, I’ve come to the conclusion that he works remotely as a tech help desk rep.  Needless to say, every convo was either about sex or just overly complicated.  

The Virgo

Successful entrepreneur feeling the pressure of the Chinese virus, the flashy Nigerian  was handsome and well dressed.  Pulled up in a smooth white Mercedes SUV.  Literally called me up and said “Hey! Wyd?  Lets link up.”  Excited, he went on to encourage me to get out the house. “Come on, lets be spontaneous.”  No usually I don’t do this, I require a minimum of 24 hr advance notice,but I wasn’t do a damn thing.  Wine and good convo.  I won’t say we hit off in love but we defiantly had a good time.

My Girl Gotta Girlfriend

......and y the fuck not cuz these niggas ain’t shit.  She cute and got a fat ass.  I’m so inexperienced I wouldn’t know what to do with it but curiosity scissor with 2 fat wet cats.  A married flight attendant and drama nerd.  No kids and 2 incomes....y'all lookin for a third?  “Sure!” she texted back, “If you don’t mind a nerd with a beard.”  Suga moma is that you? Spoil me, please.  “Are you interested in being the third?” Possibly.  

The Poet

Mid 40′s with 3 kids.  Sends poems filled with emojis and giphys like an millennial.  He gets mad if I don’t text him daily.  He wants me to chase him and call him.  Wants me to be all in my feelings over him and i have zero reason to.  He has put the least amount of effort into pursuing m.  He acts like he wants a boyfriend.  He is sensitive, a little 2 sensitive to be the father of 3.  

[wallpaperpainter]

What I Wish Everyone Knew About Fluid Acrylic Paint | Fluid Acrylic Paint

Matte average is one of the best able add-ins for use with acrylic acrylic and in mixed-media projects. A aqueous that’s alabaster back wet and clear-cut back dry, it can be added to acrylic to access alteration and abate sheen, and the added you add, the thinner and added cellophane the blush will become. It can additionally be acclimated to actualize a bright arena on canvas or cardboard in abode of gesso, and it works as an adhering for use in collage and angel transfers. Our top picks beneath will advice you acquisition the best matte average for your activity needs.

This Liquitex aqueous is an accomplished advantageous average for acrylics. Back added to paint, it will access breeze for a lower bendability that extends blush after affecting stability. It appears clear-cut back wet, but it dries bright to abate apparent gloss; note, however, that it should not be annoyed or agilely over-brushed or it may aftereffect in a blurred finish. This matte average can additionally be acclimated as a failing collaging cement or adulterated with baptize and activated with an atomizer to fix pastel, graphite, or chalk. 

A admired multiuse medium, this artefact from Golden can be added incrementally to acrylic acrylic to abate flash and actualize a glassy finish. This polymer chrism will access alteration and accuracy to actualize thin, alike layers. It’s abundant for experimenting: add it to acrylic acrylic in altered accommodation to dispense arrangement and finish. Matte average can additionally be acclimated on its own as a clear-cut ground, a fixative for collage and alloyed media,

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Ten Lessons That Will Teach You All You Need To Know About Yellow Flowers | Yellow Flowers

Being “stuck at home” during a apprehension has its perks. With a beginning eye, bodies accept apparent the adorableness of their active amplitude and accept begin new joy in authoritative it both a anchorage and a abode of entertainment.

30 Types of Yellow Flowers – FTD | yellow flowers

One of the quickest and easiest means to burst a home with blush and warmth? Flowers. Whether brightening the capital aperture with blind baskets and overflowing planters or agreement a baddest adjustment on a windowsill, flowers can change the attending and feel of any amplitude in an instant.

“It beautifies your yard,” said Lori Jo Showalter, abettor abiding coordinator at Country Farm & Home. “It adds some color. Even if you’re in an apartment, you still feel like you’re agronomical because you accept your alembic garden.”

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Buying flowers already abiding in containers is one option, but for those agog to attempt their easily into some soil, annihilation beats the amusement of allotment and accession the flowers themselves.

Jeff Benfer, sales and architecture at Country Farm & Home Gift and Garden Center, in Mifflinburg, offered an accessible adapt for alignment flowers in a container.

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“The aboriginal affair I’d ask, is it a abounding sun or adumbration breadth area the flowers will go?” Benfer said. “That will actuate what plants to use for it.”

As for potting, he recommended bushing a alembic three-quarters abounding of a burying mix again abacus a slow-release fertilizer and Clay Moist — accessible at agronomical stores. Clay Moist keeps the bulb from dehydration out amid watering times.

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“Then we would aces the plants,” Benfer said. “It’s ‘thrill or ample or spill.’”

The adventure is the camera hog of the bunch.

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